#one time she was being a bitch and was trying to reprimand me for not being in my section when i was putting stuff that had been droppedin

[gyuswhore]

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom. 

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin. 

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice. 

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly. 

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands. 

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers. 

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter. 

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands. 

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her. 

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?” 

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.” 

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future. 

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt. 

“Sure, yeah. What is it?” 

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all” 

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway. 

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring. 

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-” 

“I have class tomorrow.” 

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.” 

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now” 

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night” 

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building. 

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically. 

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down. 

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process. 

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding, 

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed. 

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself. 

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids. 

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” 

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.” 

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.” 

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted. 

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done. 

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation. 

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand. 

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way. 

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express. 

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display. 

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you. 

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night. 

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew. 

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head. 

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.” 

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe. 

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines. 

You deserved to wallow in this pit. 

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath. 

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds. 

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock. 

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name. 

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond. 

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.” 

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears. 

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut. 

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call. 

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response. 

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.” 

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over. 

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows. 

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?” 

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further. 

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands. 

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.” 

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.” 

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh. 

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot. 

The doorbell rings. 

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling. 

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!” 

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door. 

Mingyu’s brought a girl. 

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later. 

“This is my sister” 

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky. 

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit. 

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge. 

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her. 

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.” 

There it is. 

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence. 

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance. 

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over. 

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you. 

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister. 

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from. 

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun. 

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”. 

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder. 

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression. 

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already. 

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?” 

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!” 

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going. 

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect,  “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away. 

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.” 

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you. 

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity. 

“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you. 

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.” 

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice. 

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.” 

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination 

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice. 

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion. 

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?” 

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter. 

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances. 

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles. 

“What? Is it bad?” 

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?” 

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?” 

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face. 

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside. 

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later. 

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her. 

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight. 

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside. 

There’s no Nayeon in sight. 

But there is Mingyu. 

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both. 

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears. 

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him. 

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?” 

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?” 

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?” 

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.” 

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny. 

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest. 

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck. 

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up. 

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.” 

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream. 

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.” 

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral. 

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see. 

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure. 

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting. 

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality. 

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school. 

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner. 

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner. 

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose. 

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand. 

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself. 

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?” 

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!” 

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland. 

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit. 

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does. 

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.” 

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form. 

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart. 

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear. 

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed. 

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite. 

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.” 

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again. 

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet. 

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door. 

“Where’ve you been?” 

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.” 

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.” 

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus. 

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…” 

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.” 

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation. 

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses. 

“Especially when it’s none of my business.” 

“Charming.” 

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major. 

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.” 

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.” 

“Are we getting paid?” 

“You get to say you modeled for me.” 

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans. 

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you. 

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh. 

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?” 

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices. 

“I am,” You confirm. 

“For what?” He sputters. 

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?” 

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question. 

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?” 

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks. 

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.” 

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.” 

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.” 

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-” 

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika. 

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk. 

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.” 

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that. 

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table. 

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch. 

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.” 

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.” 

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers. 

“I mean���” Nayeon starts after a long pause. 

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in. 

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face. 

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”  

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face. 

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it. 

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort. 

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points. 

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!” 

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor. 

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat. 

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over. 

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite. 

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?” 

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes. 

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.” 

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.” 

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar. 

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance. 

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last. 

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time. 

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all. 

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers. 

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity. 

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence. 

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week. 

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information. 

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone. 

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins. 

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.” 

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name. 

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you. 

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t. 

—Kim, Mingyu. 

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes. 

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was. 

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him. 

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here! 

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off. 

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true. 

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up. 

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him. 

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand. 

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus. 

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously. 

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.” 

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually. 

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything. 

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin. 

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you. 

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?” 

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back. 

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?” 

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour. 

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?” 

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly. 

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.” 

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.” 

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?” 

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.” 

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.” 

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.” 

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod. 

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared. 

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.” 

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing. 

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling. 

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is. 

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry. 

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat. 

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake. 

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human. 

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on. 

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash. 

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness. 

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch. 

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice. 

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard. 

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to. 

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else. 

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh. 

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help. 

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention. 

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor. 

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her. 

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house. 

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more. 

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.  

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked. 

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down. 

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention. 

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel. 

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car. 

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further. 

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns. 

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.” 

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard. 

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended. 

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister. 

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.” 

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat. 

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride. 

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.” 

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought. 

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip. 

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results. 

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.” 

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair. 

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done. 

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you. 

“What?” 

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation. 

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?” 

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.” 

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes. 

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.” 

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years. 

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night. 

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there. 

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing. 

He’s probably fine. 

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu. 

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos. 

“Oh, hey,” he says normally. 

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room. 

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.” 

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.” 

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway. 

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.” 

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you. 

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round. 

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour. 

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.” 

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself. 

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?” 

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it. 

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff. 

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.” 

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.” 

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch. 

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night. 

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car. 

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest. 

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip. 

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!” 

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks. 

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants. 

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak. 

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.” 

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.” 

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise. 

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried. 

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them. 

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room. 

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked. 

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you. 

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping. 

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it. 

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room. 

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry. 

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls. 

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots. 

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn. 

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces. 

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break. 

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time. 

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts. 

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.” 

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?” 

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.” 

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out. 

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.” 

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights). 

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away. 

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.” 

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood. 

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare. 

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine. 

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.  

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today. 

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera. 

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it. 

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound. 

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket. 

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see. 

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?” 

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.” 

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least. 

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off. 

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route. 

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing. 

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.” 

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?” 

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.” 

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting. 

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends. 

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day. 

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home. 

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little. 

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!” 

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here. 

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in. 

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.” 

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm. 

“Ah, I see.” 

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?” 

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.” 

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.” 

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.” 

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.” 

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection. 

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”  

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.” 

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation. 

“When does your shift end?” 

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that. 

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously. 

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.” 

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.” 

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.” 

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.” 

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.” 

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement. 

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible. 

Truly. 

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention. 

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?” 

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial. 

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.” 

“Seok!” 

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!” 

Beep. 

The bastard hung up. 

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu. 

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle. 

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy. 

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night. 

“Babe?” 

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?” 

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long. 

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word. 

“Fifteen.” 

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected. 

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it. 

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.  

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?” 

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.” 

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.” 

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.” 

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.” 

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms. 

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her. 

“What now?” she groans. 

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!” 

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours. 

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally. 

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy. 

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up. 

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.” 

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.” 

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past. 

It doesn’t. 

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.”  Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully. 

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice. 

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated. 

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!” 

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place. 

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!” 

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it. 

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!” 

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.” 

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done. 

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it. 

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project. 

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful. 

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card. 

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece. 

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

[azsazz]

Shots & Spins

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Req from @kristijenner19: I saw you were thinking about hockey!AZ because same. How about a fic where she's a figure skater and they're trying to teach each other their respective sports. Imagine poor Az trying to do a spin/jump/twizzle and a reader who can barely ever make a shot into a goal

Bonus points if they switch their skates and have to re-learn how to skate with the new blade

Warnings: Mild panic attack, mentions of readers injury (torn ACL), trauma from coaches (verbal) mentioned.

Word Count: 3088

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown

HOCKEY SZN SOON MY LOVES 💙💙

Notes: I swear I meant to make this cuter but of course, I had to give it some angst 😅

_________________________________________

“What is this?” You question. You’re probably being rude, with your nose scrunched in disgust. With the way you’re holding the pair of skates as far away from your body as possible, you’re pretty sure you look like the biggest bitch on all of campus. But for the life of you, you can’t figure out why Azriel has handed you hockey skates.

“They’re skates,” Azriel answers. You rip your glare from the offending skates at his obvious response. Your heart stumbles in your chest at the sight of his pink lips twitching, begging to reveal that grin he spends most of his time expertly hiding.

You don’t even realize you’re leaning closer in anticipation, so eager to see that smile until the hitch of his breath snaps you back to consciousness.

You rock back on your heels so quickly you nearly tumble over. Would tumble over if it weren’t for Azriel’s quick reflexes, his large hands enveloping your waist and steadying you back on your feet.

“Thanks,” you reply flatly, dipping your chin to the ground to hide your flaming cheeks. There’s not an ounce of amusement in your body.

“You’re welcome.” You don’t like the smugness in his tone or the way he’s playing with you. Tilting your face back up, you muster all the annoyance lancing through your veins at his retort, shooting him the nastiest glare.

“That’s not what I meant, Az, and you know it. Why am I holding a pair of hockey skates?”

Azriel sits on the bench beside the empty arena, and you want to pout. Why would you want to spend any more time at the rink than you already do? You’re bone-fucking-tired and your knee is feeling stiff. You overdid it in practice this week, trying to get back into the shape you were in before the time you’d been forced to take off, and it’s hitting you hard. All you really want to do is crawl home, roll out your muscles, and dive into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

When you don’t join Azriel, he says, with a humor you don’t feel, “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little bet. Or how you so gracefully lost it.”

Of course you hadn’t forgotten. Who could forget losing at something as simple as a race across the arena? Afterwards, you tried to blame it on the differences in the ice, how it was colder and harder than you were used to, as it was prepared for the hockey team’s game later that weekend.

A rookie mistake, honestly. One that you’ve been kicking yourself over up until this very moment. Well, if you could kick with your injured leg, that is, you’d be doing just that.

You grind your teeth as a memory rises to the forefront of your mind. Your coach’s voice rings in your head, shrill and reprimanding. Why would you take such foolish chances? You need to get your head in your sport or you’re never going to make it on the Olympic team, let alone the University team.

Shame presses down on you, and your eyes prick at the criticism you should be used to by now. Your private coach from your time before Velaris University, Amarantha, had been very creative with her insults, always coming up with comments worse and harsher to cut down any semblance of confidence you had in your sport.

You bet she’s thrilled that you won’t be back in her presence until you’re healed enough. If you heal enough to relearn the very trick that took you out of the running for the Olympic team in the first place.

It must be a thing, coaches insulting their prodigies. You glance at Azriel from the corner of your eye and wonder if his coach is the same way. If Rhys is brutal with his teammates.

And you hate losing. It was Azriel who you wished forgotten about the bet you’d so stupidly agreed to, but here he is, wearing the same look that got you into this position in the first place.

You take your time studying him as you mull over how to get out of this. Azriel’s broad shoulders take up the space of two people, and his deep, dark hair falls over his brow, growing out into the perfect flow all the players seem to be sporting right now. You wonder if it’s superstition or they actually like the look. His thick lashes sweep as he bats them, and your cheeks take on a pink hue as he pretends to preen under your attention.

“Look,” he all but sighs, giving up his act. He leans back, reaching over to grab something out of sight. When Azriel rightens himself, he holds a pair of figure skates, a sheepish smile on his face. The apples of his cheeks mottle with pink. “I got myself figure skates, so we can both look like fools out there. Together.”

Fuck. The sentiment makes your throat tighten. He doesn’t have to be so damn thoughtful, you’re hardly even friends for Mother’s sake.

“Fine,” you manage when you can speak again. You plop onto the bench beside him. Your knee throbs dully in protest, but it’s nothing you haven’t been able to smother before. You’ve worked through worse conditions than hockey prepped ice, have skated in casts and aches so deep you weren’t sure you’d be able to compete at all if it weren’t for your raw love for the sport and your brutal stubbornness, holding yourself to the highest of standards.

And it’s not like you’re going to be doing your usual tricks. No, that’s all Azriel. All you have to manage is a few forward spirals, twizzles, and perhaps an axel just to show off a little, because there’s no way he’ll be able to recreate all of that in one go.

You just hope your knee stays steady for a few more hours.

The both of you lace your shoes in silence. The hockey skates are so different from your figure skates, you note. The blade is much thicker than you’re used to, more curved too. The boots are shorter, and you grimace at the lack of ankle support.

Not to mention you’re not entirely sure how well you’ll be able to stop without your toe pick.

Azriel leads you to the ice. You step on tentatively, giving the new skates a test. They have a lot more give than you’re used to. They’re not as snug, but easy enough to navigate. Muscle memory kicks in and after a few sluggish runs up and down the ice, you think you’ve gotten the hang of it.

The rest of this bet should be a breeze, especially compared to how Azriel is faring.

His face is contorted with a concentrated frown. He looks stiff as a fucking board, which make you giggle and him complain about. “How the hell do you wear these things? I can barely even move my ankles!”

“Practice makes perfect, young Padawon,” you tease, testing how best to shift your weight on the new blades. The pressure on your knee isn’t terrible, thanks to the looseness of the hockey skates.

“Yeah, yeah,” Azriel waves you off. He trails behind you at a slower rate, focused on getting used to the stiffness of the figure skates on his feet. “Just wait until we scrimmage.”

Ugh, no thanks. This is just perfect for you, the both of you out on the open ice, all alone. You don’t want to ruin this peaceful bliss by bringing your competitive personalities into it.

“I knew if we raced under different conditions I’d have won!” You exclaim, zipping past Azriel again, showing off. He glares playfully, but you’re much too busy admiring your skates to notice the way he’s tucked his lip between his teeth, hiding a satisfied grin.

His toe pick digs into the ice, grinding down as he gets a feeling for the foreign piece, but his eyes stay glued on you.

“Ready for a stick and gloves already, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know,” you throw a smirk back in his direction, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking a brow. “You ready for twizzling?”

“Twizzlers?”

You roll your eyes at his lame joke, but your heart still skips at his wry smile. It’s more than cute. You push off your blade, moving closer to him.

Which is fine, until you try to use your toe pick to stop, only for the realization to hit that there isn’t one on these skates.

You go barreling into Azriel, who catches you in his arms. Your motion throws him off balance and before you even have the chance to squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself, you’re both falling to the ice.

Azriel hits with a grunt that reverberates through your bones. You’d think that Azriel breaking your landing would be less painful than it is, but with the way the muscle is packed on his body, he’s just as hard as the ice that’s no longer beneath your feet.

“Sorry,” you cringe. It comes out breathless and embarrassment flushes your cheeks, but you’re frozen to your spot and all too aware of how his large, warm hands are wrapped firmly around your waist.

“No worries.” Your lashes flutter as his breathy whisper caresses your face. He’s probably just winded, that’s why he sounds like that. Yes, that’s exactly what it is. “Didn’t think to remind you how to stop.”

“I know how to stop,” you argue, but there’s none of your usual fire tainting the words. You can’t even muster one of your famous glares that you reserve for the normally broody hockey player. You break eye contact as the humiliation begins creeping in. You scratch your nail distractedly down the waffled fabric of his olive colored henley. “I just…forgot, I guess.”

The hitching of his breath in his chest shifts your body and you jolt, the situation slamming into you like a truck.

You scramble off Azriel, grimacing at the sound of your blades clinking against his. His grip loosens, hands falling away as you slip to the ice beside him.

You shoot to your knees, then not-so-carefully climb to your feet. Azriel holds his hands out from where he’s still lying on the ground, like he’s more than ready to catch you again should you fall.

You’re positive the heat of your cheeks could melt the entire arena’s ice right now. You need to get the fuck out of here before you embarrass yourself further. You need to never show your face around here again. You’ve already transferred schools once, what’s one more time?

Azriel calls your name, but you hardly hear him over your racing thoughts. If the sheer embarrassment wasn’t enough, Coach Weaver’s voice now fills the rest of your head, screeching about your recklessness and how you could’ve injured yourself—

He’s quicker than you thought, or you’ve been trapped in your mortified headspace for too long because Azriel’s on his feet, towering over you and pulling you into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” your voice trembles and his hands tighten around you. He lets you bury your face into his chest and pretends not to notice the tears dampening the fabric of his shirt. You’re fucking trembling, and his heart is pounding just as hard.

This is all his fault.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breathe,” he tries to console. He looks around frantically, like one of the sports therapist students or coaches might be walking past the rinks this late at night. There’s no soul in the building besides the both of you, everyone resting for their busy weekends of competitions and away hockey games. “Please.”

You focus on his words, how he guides you, three seconds in, three seconds out. You focus on the soothing patterns he’s drawing down your back, focus on the beating of his heart and latch onto his scent: night-chilled mist and cedar.

“Sorry,” you croak when you finally manage to calm yourself and slide a step back. Your gaze sits pointedly on the ice. You don’t want him to see you like this, a woman who’s about to fucking crumble.

“Don’t be,” Azriel says softly. His hand finds your face, and as much as you don’t want him to, he lifts your chin. You don’t fight it, emotionally exhausted. You should have asked for a raincheck, but you can admit to the fact that Azriel’s gentle touch is a comfort that you can’t help but lean into.

Sad, hazel eyes meet yours. They’re more golden brown than green, a forest of hues backlit by a burst of gold. Your breath hitches as he drags a thumb softly across your lips. They part, even though you don’t mean them to, and the whisper of breath that leaves you passes over his hand, crawls up his arm, and sends shivers down his spine.

“You okay there, sweetheart?”

You’re not sure you can hold yourself together enough to answer his question without completely melting into a puddle at his feet.

Your silence must be answer enough. Azriel takes both of your hands in his own and guides you back toward the bench where you left your shoes. His grip is reassuring, and you’re so tired that you don’t even have it in yourself to sling a witty remark his way.

For what might be the first time in your life, you allow yourself to be taken care of.

You can’t even muster a chuckle at the way he stumbles over the toe pick on his way off the ice, or the way you’re waddling in these skates. You feel anything but graceful and strong right now, but with Azriel’s hand in yours, it’s not as off-putting as you feared it might be.

“Sit,” he says, keeping his fingers clasped around yours as you heed his command. It brings you eye-level to his hands, puckered and pink and scarred to hell. They’re beautiful in every way. He embraces his story, and it’s an incredible strength, one you’re much too terrified of attempting to recreate.

“Azriel, no,” you protest, jolting forward when he lowers himself to his knees before you. You plant your hands on his shoulders, ready to force him away because you’re more than capable of taking your own skates off.

He catches your wrists, and you didn’t think his eyes could soften any more, but they do, and you melt. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let me take care of this for you.”

You try to swallow past the knot in your throat to thank him but are unable to. Instead, you nod and reluctantly sit back.

Azriel’s gentle with his movements, like you’re a wild doe that he’s helping free from a snare. He unties the tight knots, and your heart pinches when he struggles for a moment. You wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching so intently, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Like he knows you need to see this.

You carefully keep your mind from wandering into how good he looks like this before you.

He slips the first skate off, and you stretch your toes. It’s a reflex. Azriel smiles, peeking up at you just in time to catch your blush. His gaze ducks away before you become embarrassed, setting your foot down and holding your other ankle, lifting to get to work.

You hiss softly at the ache in your knee.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Concern laces his voice, and you’re quick to reassure him.

“No, no,” you cringe a little at the lingering sting. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetheart.” Azriel says sternly. Seriously. “That reaction wasn’t nothing. What’s wrong?”

You sigh, defeated in more ways than one. You don’t want to admit that the injury that threw your entire career off-kilter is acting up again. You’d rather not have anyone know.

Perhaps Azriel is different. Or, maybe he’s forcing you, because the gold in his eyes is intense, pinning you to your spot. His mouth is set in a straight, firm line. He looks like he means fucking business.

You avert your gaze. You’ve never admitted defeat like this, but if Azriel can wear his scars so proudly, maybe you can too.

“I tore my ACL a few months ago.” You admit, sniffling. You can feel the shock in Azriel’s gaze, but you refuse to look him in the eye. He’s the first person at this school outside of your coach who’s hearing it. You’ve never been so vulnerable, especially with someone you hardly know. You press on nonetheless. “It’s been fine up until now.” A white lie. “But it’s been a little sore since I started practicing my jumps again.”

“How many months is ‘a few’?” He questions, and he’s not going to like the answer, so you opt for brushing over it.

“I’ll go back to seeing my therapist,” you offer instead, but even you’re not too sure how much truth your words hold.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Azriel says, and you don’t want his sympathy, but you’re too exhausted for your usual anger to stir to life. “You need to take care of yourself, before it gets any worse.”

His sentiment has your nose stinging, eyes prickling once again. What the fuck is wrong with you these days? Get it together, girl. You can cry in your own room, not in front of the hot boy who’s helping you with your godsdamned shoes.

You drag your gaze back to his. “I will.” You think.

He studies you for a moment before nodding, accepting your answer whether he believes it or not. You don’t have it in yourself to care right now. No, you just want to be back in the safety of your dorm.

Azriel is even more careful removing this skate and helping you slip into your shoes. He makes quick work of his own, and while his head is down, you admire his stature. Broad shoulders and chest that tapers into a tight waist, an ass for days.

You’re not done drooling over him when he stands, offering you a hand.

You slip your palm into his, ignoring the electricity that zips down your arm. You’re hyperaware of him by your side, and it’s only when he’s absolutely sure that you’re steady on your feet that he drops your hand.

You try not to feel too disappointed at the loss.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Azriel offers, and you trail him from the arena, your heart feeling a bit fuller with the nickname.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[shotmrmiller]

PAUSE! OH MY GOD. writing a soap smut got me thinking. 

As a medic in base, you see the 141 guys all the time. Whether in passing or because they get injured, you’re always interacting with them. Your particular lack of response at Ghost’s irritated glare after reprimanding him for being unable to keep his stitches intact during training is what solidified your friendship with Johnny— what Soap tells you to call him.

Every time Johnny goes out, he likes to drag you along and this is where you notice peculiar interactions between him and Ghost.

The way Ghost gives Soap Johnny his full attention when he’s speaking, turning his entire body to face him, even if it’s something completely trivial. Or how Johnny stresses over Ghost who’s injured on your med table and Ghost will comfort him. When going on a mission, if one goes, so does the other.

You wonder if there's something else going on.

—

You get your answer.

One day you’re knocking on Johnny’s door because it wouldn’t be the first time he’s tried to weasel out of a physical. You’d think getting shot would hurt more than a vaccine but here you are— about to twist his scottish ear off. The door finally opens, and you barge in because you aren’t about to cause a scene in the middle of the hallway when you freeze. 

Ghost is in Johnny's room, lying on the bed. If looks could kill, Ghost’s would’ve leveled the base. And he’s naked under the sheets— if that tree trunk-sized bulge is what you think it is. It doesn't even look hard. Bloody hell. 

You shift your gaze towards Soap, and your eyes drop— he's clad in nothing but a towel that hangs dangerously low on his hips. 

Massive. These men just walkin’ round with weapons in their pants.

Shaking off those thoughts, you shift your attention to his face.

“Meet me at the clinic in 10 or so help me god, Johnny.” and walk out the door.

You hear a muffled "Yes ma'am" , and a hiss escapes your lips.

That cocky smile Johnny had means he definitely saw you ogling them. 

—

A week passes and it’s a friday. You can’t wait to lock yourself in your barracks room and watch movies the entire weekend— you plan to start as soon as you're off the clock.

And then other medics twist your arm into going out for drinks.

Now you find yourself seated at a table in a lively bar, indulging in shots of tequila. As you glance around, your eyes catch sight of Soap and Ghost standing near the bartender. It appeared that some woman is talking to Johnny and he has a polite, detached smile on his face. Always too kind to strangers.

Then she starts caressing his thigh.

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. Right in front of Ghost’s salad? You lock eyes with Ghost and he looks murderous. Jesus.

You usually don't stick your nose in others' business, but if you don’t intervene, Ghost might actually kill her in her sleep. Besides, tequila has always made you bold.

With a confident stride, you make your way towards Johnny and remove that woman’s hand before settling yourself snugly on his lap— and you wrap his arms around your waist.

“And who is this?” you ask Soap, but the girl questions back.

“No. Who are you?” 

Bitch. 

Curling your upper lip, you answer, “I’m the one he comes in every night hoping it takes. Now leave before I make you,” completely ignoring the massive bulge pressing up into your arse.

She looks at you with a bewildered expression, but doesn't move so you finish off with, "Try it. Just a warning though, it'll be hard to fight when the fight ain't fair."

You cock your head to the side with a taunting expression and the woman scoffs before walking away. Noticing she left her almost full drink behind, you give it to the bartender to toss in the trash. She's just gonna have to get another one.

Your act comes to an end, so you shift to stand up— and realize that the arms encircling your waist tighten, keeping you on his lap. His clothed cock.

“Ye didnae think we’d let ye go after yer little show, did ye?” 

Unless Johnny’s speaking french, he just said we. You'd be nervous but you aren't about to decline what could be the best sex of your life. The want you feel in Soap's pants has you riding a certain high— it makes you feel confident.

Grabbing onto the edge of the bartop, you swivel the stool you're on to face Ghost. 

“And this okay with you? I wouldn’t be stepping on any toes, or nothin’?”

Ghost swiftly lifts you from Johnny's lap and places you onto his own.

“Does this answer your question?” and draws you closer before grinding his erection against you.

And it sure as hell does. Slapping the counter, you ask for some water. If this night is going to end with you sandwiched between these two, you want to remember all of it.

reader's a boss ass bitch. GET IT CHILE.

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 11

[chap ten] | [all chapters here] | [chap twelve]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | Y'all this chapter got away from me! The plot just kept going and going and going, and I kept thinking up more ideas, so hopefully this doesn't feel too longwinded! Can't wait to see what everyone thinks of this one~

WC | 10.9k

Chapter Eleven

Sitting in the passenger seat of the van, you impatiently fussed with your fingernails, checking out the window every 30 seconds for a sign of Eddie, who had disappeared through the back door of a shady liquor store some five minutes ago. It was the night of homecoming - the night of the party - and Eddie insisted he pick up some booze on the way to Rick’s place. According to him, booze or food or drugs of some kind was your ticket into the party - from what you’d heard of this Rick guy, he sounded like a bit of a mooch, but maybe you were just assuming too much.

Leading up to this weekend, you’d been grounded thanks to the argument with your mom and your subsequent disappearance after that. Apparently, your mom had called your uncle Tom in hysterics, panicking about where you could have run off to. Trying to imagine your mother crying or even raising your voice seemed a little far-fetched, so you figured they’d lied about that in order to make you feel guilty for the whole thing. Hell, once you returned home that Thursday afternoon, you were lectured by both your father and uncle Tom about what you did, each of them reprimanding you for the thoughtlessness of what you did.

Honestly, being grounded for a week wasn’t even that bad. In fact, it was almost disappointing that it hadn’t been more satisfying. You were so looking forward to getting in enough trouble to lose TV privileges or maybe even car privileges, but really the punishment felt virtually non-existent. After only one day of your mom driving you to school (something that Eddie, of course, laughed at), she gave up on that and returned your keys, although she was adamant that you were only to drive to and from school or the ice rink.

You probably sounded crazy, but you wished that the punishment had been more severe, more substantial. Your first time being grounded was far from impressive, so you figured you’d have to up the ante at some point. Maybe even this weekend, although getting in trouble again wasn’t your top priority for tonight.

Eddie finally exited the liquor store, so you sat back up in your seat and straightened out your clothes as he approached the van. Admittedly, you’d been growing a little nervous waiting here in the back alley all by yourself, not that you’d tell Eddie that. No, as he climbed into the van with an eager look and a case of beer, you made sure to look bored and unaffected, as if you hadn’t nearly jumped out of your skin thanks to the crazy shouting of a homeless man just a couple minutes ago.

You looked between Eddie and the case of beer, watching as he deposited it on the floor behind his seat. A small knot formed between your brow as you asked with mild disappointment, “Only beer?”

In response, Eddie gave you a coy look before reaching inside his jacket, pulling out a wine cooler that he presented as if it were a sacred scepter. Your face immediately brightened as you accepted it, readjusting in your seat again as Eddie started up the van.

“As if I’d forget.” He teased, turning up the radio before backing out of the alley and onto the road. You popped the bottle cap of your drink, trying not to cringe at the taste as you took a quick sip - after all, a cheap wine cooler was still better than a beer any day of the week.

“Who’s gonna be there?” You asked between sips, your eyes studying Eddie’s face and the drum of his hand on the steering wheel.

You’d spent the last week at the lunch table with Eddie’s nerdy friends, and although they still seemed hesitant around you (except for Dustin, who didn’t seem to hesitate around anyone), they weren’t nearly as awkward and standoffish as before. Yeah, they were all still weird and you still felt like an outside observer of their little world, but they were growing on you, and you hoped that you were growing on them, to.

Eddie glanced at you for a moment with a false look of apology, “Unfortunately, only the freshmen.”

You glowered at his teasing, giving his shoulder a shove as he gleefully laughed, “Shut up.”

You nonetheless smiled as you shook your head, taking another long sip of your drink. Eddie's teasing had only gotten worse over the course of the past week, taking every opportunity he could to poke at you. Evidently, your make-up-turned-sleepover had done wonders, undeniably causing a change to the relationship between you two. It was becoming easier to relax around Eddie, easier to simply exist in each other’s space, easier to become friends. And although you were never the type to be too sincere, Eddie knew you had come to enjoy his company, even if there were days he taunted you too much.

“Beer?” Eddie requested simply, knowing that the case had shifted around while driving so he wouldn’t be able to blindly find it with his hand. You pretended to consider it for a moment, waiting for Eddie to shoot you a look before you acquiesced.

You shuffled in your seat, getting your knees under you while spinning around to reach into the back of the van. The case of beer had slid out of your immediate reach, so you had to stretch for it, half your body leaning into the back so you could get Eddie a drink. As your fingers grazed one of the bottles, you had to pull at your skirt with the opposite hand, feeling the cold breeze from the open window tickling at your exposed thighs. A small huff of annoyance escaped you as you tried to keep your balance, briefly relinquishing the grip on your skirt so you could steady yourself on Eddie’s seat. As you finally grabbed a bottle, you were too preoccupied to notice Eddie’s eyes flick over to your legs or his cheeks reddened as he ripped his gaze away.

You settled back into your seat, opening the bottle for Eddie before handing it to him. As you picked up your own drink again, you returned to your earlier thought, “Will Gareth be there at least?”

Eddie took a large swig of his drink before giving you a cheeky look, “Thinking about cheating on me?”

You had to refrain from hitting his shoulder again, instead opting to roll your eyes with a grin, “I’ll even let you watch, if you like.”

“And they say romance is dead.” You and Eddie grinned humorously at each other before he returned his attention to driving, and you returned your attention to the rhythmic drumming of his fingers.

Following the past week, you’d decided that Gareth was your favorite of the bunch, at least thus far - his expressive face was particularly amusing amidst the chaos of the lunch table, and although he was awkward, he was still nonetheless the easiest to talk to. It’s not that you exactly cared all that much about spending time with the nerds tonight, but rather Gareth could be someone to keep you company should Eddie disappear at any point in the evening.

As you two continued driving through Hawkins, you eventually entered the neighborhood your school was in, causing you to sneer as you saw the sign in the distance. Given the time, you knew that the dance was already in full swing, and for whatever reason that made you even more annoyed, “I almost hope we win, even if it is a joke - just to piss them all off.”

Eddie laughed a little, stealing a glance at your sour expression, “That’d be the first time I won anything. Think we should swing by to say hi?”

Despite your spiteful look, you still couldn’t the way Eddie’s silly suggestion made you smirk, “If by ‘say hi’ you mean ‘slash Duncan’s tires,’ then I’d love to. Asshole still hasn’t gotten what he deserves for his shit.”

As you turned back towards Eddie, you realized he looked… thoughtful? It caused your small grin to slacken - why did he look like he was considering what you said a little too seriously? Your brow rose questioningly as Eddie’s wicked eyes met yours, a dark smile on his lips. God, he was thinking about it.

“Then I guess we’re saying hi.” He said in an almost sing-song voice, pulling into the drive of the school before he missed it.

“Eddie.” Your tone was warning, and you nearly felt like a scolding mother by using his first name. You’d nearly forgotten this past month that Eddie was, in fact, a delinquent, someone who dealt drugs, who apparently “knew a guy” at the liquor store, who had had more than one run in with your uncle. But if you were in need of a reminder that you and Eddie were from very different worlds, well, this was it.

Entering the parking lot full of cars, he leveled you with an honest and serious look, “Tell me you don’t wanna slash his tires, and we’ll go. Promise.”

A little paranoid, you looked around, fearful that someone might spot Eddie’s van here. The sun had already set about half an hour ago, so the dark of night was at least a mild comfort to you, and it didn’t appear as if anyone else was nearby. Though, from experience, you knew that there may be a few straggles that could arrive late or frisky couples leaving early to fuck in the back of their cars. As you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, you met Eddie’s eyes with an unsure look - one of both worry and intrigue - and so he raised his brows, patiently waiting for your decision.

Shit, you really didn’t hate the idea. In fact, the selfish side of you loved it. Duncan, of all people, could more than afford to replace a set of tires, and you’d been desperately trying to think of ways to get back at him since that stupid pep assembly. And sure, you’d driven after a couple of drinks or trespassed onto properties in the middle of the night, so you weren’t exactly a stranger to bad behavior, you were far from a goody two-shoes. But damaging someone’s vehicle was a different story entirely, a different level of rebelliousness, and the thought caused your heart to jump with anxiety, as much as it also amused you.

Taking your lack of response as an answer, Eddie nodded simply, turning his eyes back to the road, “We’ll go.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached over and grabbed his forearm, “Wait.” So, Eddie looked at you again, a slight mischievous glint in his eyes, something daring about his expression. You took a deep breath, mustering up your courage as you held his stare; despite the bubble of fear in your chest, you attempted to grin, “Let’s say hi.”

“Atta girl.” The smile that spread across Eddie’s lips was wicked yet endearing, his eyes shining with an excitement that you hadn’t seen before. Your nerves grew even as you felt your neck get warm. Eddie reached over and began digging around in the glove compartment in front of you, brandishing a butterfly knife after a few moments, “Which car?”

The ease with which he revealed the knife and asked the question was almost surprising - again, you were reminded that Eddie wasn’t always just a sweet and funny nerd, he was still a guy with a bit of a record. You began to look across the darkened parking lot, furrowing your brow in search of the familiar, flashy silver of Duncan’s coupe; your heart drummed heavily in your chest even as you tried to shove down your anxieties.

As you searched, Eddie pulled the van into one of the furthest possible spots from the school, haphazardly over the lines so the vehicle was angled for a quick getaway. God, this was stupid - you were practically praying for this to go well, hoping you two weren’t caught.

“He’s parked right near the gym.” You groaned in annoyance. Of course Duncan’s car was there, he probably arrived early to help set up for the dance. You met Eddie’s eyes with trepidation, to which he gave you a reassuring smile.

“You can still chicken out, if you want.” His words were taunting, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes - he wouldn’t judge you for backing out.

Again, you ignored your nerves as you attempted to smirk back at Eddie; if you didn’t focus too hard on what you were about to do, it would be so much easier to just do it. God, you wished you two had had a little more to drink before deciding to do this, “I can’t back out, you’d never let me live it down.”

“Then let’s go get ‘em.” Eddie encouraged while shutting off the engine, climbing out of the van quickly and spinning back around to give you an insistent look. It was now or never, so before you could overthink it, you jumped out of the van and quickly made your way to Eddie’s side. He promptly began a brisk walk towards the gym, so you followed close behind, your adrenaline kicking in the closer you got to Duncan’s car.

Once there, you two crouched, forcing you to fuss with your skirt again - god, this really wasn’t the right outfit for this kind of shit. Eddie pulled the knife from his pocket and flicked it open with a well-practiced flourish, to which you grinned in amusement.

“Show off.” You whispered, although it almost seemed silly to keep your voice low, considering no one was around. Just to rub it in, Eddie began to flip the knife around, the blade moving quick enough that you couldn’t quite see how he was managing it.

“Don’t sound so jealous.” He teased before carefully grabbing the blade, holding the knife out towards you. You grabbed the handle, testing the weight while finding the best grip, “You know how to use that?”

You scoffed, looking around yourself again cautiously, “You know I don’t.”

Eddie smirked before pointing at the nearest tire, shuffling closer to you, “Come on, lemme show you.”

He set a hand on your shoulder, gently moving your body until you were at what must have been the best angle for slashing tires. Now, your back was to Eddie, and he came up close behind you just like he had back at the arcade; your cheeks flushed a little, as somehow this felt even more intimate than that. Because you were both haunched low to the ground, Eddie had to spread his knees to fit around you, practically engulfing you. You could feel his chest almost on your back, his breath brushing your ear, as he set his hand atop yours that was holding the blade. His fingers gripped yours comfortably as he began explaining in a low voice.

“It’ll take more force than you think.” He began to guide your hand, using the tip of the blade to point at different spots on the tire, “It’s not a balloon, okay. You wanna puncture near the rim, not the center - it’s thinner and impossible to fix. Don’t get too close, and be quick about it.”

As if reconsidering his own instructions, Eddie brought his hand down from your shoulder to rest on your hip, shuffling the both of you back a few extra inches. Your body jolted, hairs raising at the touch, which caused you to furrow your brow and pull yourself together - the hell was that about?

“You ready?” Eddie asked while quickly looking around one more time to make sure no one could see you two. You nodded, and so once he was repositioned, Eddie gripped your hand a little tighter and rapidly slashed the tire in one clean stroke. Although you were startled by the impact, the tire didn’t make nearly as much noise as you had anticipated - he was right, this was nothing like a balloon.

An eager, wicked smile graced your lips as you turned your head to look at Eddie, and this time - unlike the arcade - you did, in fact, bump foreheads. But both of you were far too excited to care, quickly laughing it off before Eddie pulled you towards the next tire. He removed his hands from you once he had you in position, clearly setting you free to do the damage yourself.

“Don’t slash all four - three means no insurance, he’ll have to pay outta pocket.”

You nervously look between Eddie and the tire, unsure if you could do this on your own. But, god, you were eager to do more damage, your excitement and adrenaline continuing to grow; there was something so incredibly therapeutic and freeing about exacting your revenge on Duncan this way.

So, you firmly set your jaw, which was challenging considering the desperate temptation to keep grinning like a Cheshire cat. Taking a couple of deep breaths, you aimed the blade in the same way that Eddie had, not allowing yourself too much time to think as you slashed quickly.

To your surprise, you managed to cut the tire quite effectively, hearing the air spew out in the same way that it had on the first go. You turned to smile eagerly at Eddie again, who looked far too proud of you. After a moment, he waved his hand to hurry you onto the final tire, which you promptly approached, repeating the same motion one final time.

You nearly laughed with how giddy you were, but before you could even begin to celebrate your victory, Eddie pulled you up to your feet, forcing you to run back to the van hand-in-hand. Neither of you said a word to each other until you were safely in your seats, Eddie quickly zipping out of the parking lot as you shared a near maniacal laugh. The sound of each other’s excitement was far too encouraging, causing the laughter to progressively get more and more wild until you finally had to take a breath and calm down.

“Jesus, how are you better at slashing tires than you are at a round of Donkey Kong?” You smiled from ear to ear as Eddie laughed again, enjoying just how exhilarated he sounded. So, he was thinking about the arcade, too?

You continued to laugh rather than give him a response, unable to contain your glee at the crazy thing that you’d just done. With your energy spiked, you quickly chugged down the remainder of your drink before caving in and grabbing a beer for yourself.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Once you were on the road winding around Lovers’ Lake, you couldn't help but laugh, shooting Eddie a suggestive grin, “What, trying to get frisky or something? What are we doing here?”

He shot you a look from the corner of his eye while finishing off his second beer, tossing the empty bottle thoughtlessly to the floor, “This is where Rick lives.”

“No shit?” You blew air between your lips, clearly not believing that a 20-something drug dealer could afford a house in this neighborhood.

“No, I’m just lying, we’re actually at Lovers’ Lake for a big old orgy.” Eddie teased with a scheming look, although a wide smile broke out across his lips a moment later. Refusing to be out done, you put on a faux look of consideration, finishing your own drink as well.

“Oh, now that’s much better than a school dance.” The two of you grinned conspiratorially as Eddie finally pulled into a driveway crowded with cars.

As you looked up to study the house through the windshield, Eddie grabbed the opened case of beer and stepped out of the van, coming around to your side and opening the door. You accepted his outstretched hand, allowing him to lead you through the cluster of cars and up to the front door. Before you were even on the front porch, the smell of weed hit you as if there was a joint in your own hand, the loud music vibrating the windows of the house.

Eddie let you both in without knocking, the haze of smoke even heavier than you anticipated as you were greeted by a chorus of “hellos.” You tried your best to hold in a cough as smoke got in your eyes, Eddie’s fingers gripping yours a touch tighter as he tugged you past unfamiliar faces and towards the kitchen. As you let yourself be pulled along, you spotted Eddie’s bandmates clustered together on one of the couches, talking animatedly about something as if the party wasn’t happening around them.

In the kitchen, Eddie set the case of beer alongside a variety of other alcohol, continuing to pull you behind him as he looked over all the options available. He picked one up and held it out to you, raising his brow as if to ask if it was something you’d drink. You accepted it with a faint grin, not at all concerned with what the beverage actually was.

“Trying to get me drunk, Munson?” You teased, your eyes drifting towards a group of people that just entered the kitchen. Unconsciously, you must have made a face, because Eddie pulled you a step closer to him with a reassuring laugh.

“Just making sure you have fun tonight.” He grabbed another beer for himself before ducking his head close to yours, “And I wanna see if you get violent like you did at the bar.”

“Hey, that was self defense!” You stole your hand back so you could crack open your can, leaning back against the counter as you took a swig, “Unless someone here starts acting up, I won’t be hitting anyone.”

Eddie smirked, “Well, with this bunch…”

You gave him a warning glare, “If anyone touches me, I swear to god--”

With a chuckle, Eddie set a soothing hand on your shoulder, “Calm down, princess, you’ve got nothing to worry about tonight.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You better be telling the truth.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” His deep brown eyes were serious, his stare practically burning into you. There was something about it that made you nervous the longer you stared back, so you took a quick drink to pull yourself together.

“Just to everyone else, right?” You smirked a little, hoping that you played off your nerves well enough. God, you didn’t know what was with you tonight. Eddie mirrored your expression, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes; he looked you up and down for a brief moment.

“Just everyone else.” He repeated before grabbing your hand again and dragging you back towards the crowded living room. It was almost instant the way his energy changed into something even more high energy once you two were surrounded by more people, and as you approached his friends, you looked around at everyone else, trying to get a better sense of the crowd here.

Aside from your group, all the other partygoers looked to be in their 20s, hell, maybe even 30s, and it felt odd to be amidst so many strangers rather than peers. After you met eyes with one guy, he looked at your legs in a lewd way that you didn’t appreciate, so you glowered back with a threatening glare, pressing closer to Eddie. Another couple people greeted Eddie with recognition, but he didn’t bother introducing them to you - he knew you well enough by now to recognize that you weren’t quite ready to socialize. Considering how weak your first two drinks were, you needed at least one or two more before you were even interested in meeting any new people.

Spotting you and Eddie, the boys attempted to make some room on the couch, but you waved it off dismissively, preferring to stand for the time being. Thoughtlessly, you tucked yourself into Eddie’s side a little, feeling him glance curiously at you in response.

With their fearless leader now present, the group began an excited discussion about Dungeons and Dragons, but the subject was lost on you within less than a minute. You resigned yourself to drinking and people watching, tuning out the conversation as your eyes traveled around the room. In one cluster of people a blunt was being passed around; off in the corner, a couple was haphazardly making out; back in the kitchen, the group of boys from earlier were snorting something that definitely wasn’t flour.

This was just like all the other parties you’d been to through the years, the only difference being that you weren’t familiar with this crowd in the slightest. No, you were used to parties where you knew most of the faces, parties in fancy mansions or summer homes, parties where you were still top of the food chain. Here, you meant nothing to most of these people, and they meant nothing to you, which provided its own odd sense of comfort. Although you were still tense thanks to this new environment, you allowed your shoulders to relax a little.

“What do you mean the Thing is a remake?” Eddie asked next to you, causing you to quickly whip around and join the conversation. You gave him a stunned look, crossing your arms judgmentally but carefully so as not to spill your drink.

“Everyone knows that.” You respond as if offended that he wasn’t aware, drawing the group’s attention to you in surprise.

“I didn’t.” Jeff admitted, to which you made a stunned face. The group had a few new additions to it since you last paid attention, and practically everyone appeared to be surprised by what you said. You rolled your eyes with a sigh.

“I mean, it may as well be an original considering how kitschy the old movie is.” You started, taking a large sip of your drink, “I bet none of you knew it was a book, either.”

As they all shook their heads, you made an exasperated motion with your hands, turning to Eddie for his reaction. But you were surprised to see the amusement on his face, which made you quickly realize that he brought up a horror movie on purpose. You smacked his chest while fighting back a grin, causing him to laugh.

“You set me up!”

“They didn’t believe you were a horror fan!” He defended himself, pointing at the group to shift the blame. They all looked perhaps a little nervous, as if you might turn your attitude on them, “Ask her about Michael Myers, she’s got lots of opinions about him.”

You tried to insist that they don’t get you going on the subject, as if your love of horror was some dirty little secret to be kept. But the intrigued looks on their faces gave you brief pause; once Gareth asked you a question about the rest of John Carpenter’s work, you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut.

So, the horror debate began, everyone chiming in on the quality of Season of the Witch or the scares in the Fog. The night went on much this way, everyone talking and drinking, arguing and laughing. Eventually, someone had brought the group a joint, and at that point you were already drunk, so you definitely smoked far more than you should have.

A little later in the evening, Rick announced that he had a bonfire going outside, and so you were dragged out by Eddie, who apparently couldn’t resist a good fire. Some of the partygoers took to jumping in the lake, with or without swimsuits, and Eddie couldn’t help but laugh at the disgusted look you gave some of the nude swimmers.

“I’m gonna puke.” You joked, although Eddie momentarily believed you, trying to pull you to your feet so he could help you to the bathroom or behind a bush. This sent you into a fit of laughter, teasing him about being such a good boyfriend; were you getting drunk enough that you were becoming unclear, or had Eddie become drunk enough that he couldn’t pick up on your sarcasm?

As the night wore on, partygoers began to slowly disperse, some heading out while others chose to return to the house. The water must have been feeling colder, because everyone had stopped going in after a while. Eddie had attentively gotten the both of you drink after drink, doing so at a steady enough pace that you didn’t realize how drunk you were until it was too late; and once you were drunk, you could never say no to getting even drunker.

At some point, Jeff let you both know he was taking the other guys home, which led to you grabbing Eddie’s wrist so you could check the time, realizing that somehow it was already well past midnight. When Eddie asked if you were ready to go, too, your quick and aggressive “no” amused him far more than it normally would have. Clearly, you were both drunk.

You couldn’t remember when you had dragged Eddie to his feet and insisted he walk with you, but evidently you had, because he laughed again when you accused him of it instead.

“We could probably use a walk, I need to sober up.” Eddie added after explaining that this late night trek was your idea, “Gotta get us home somehow.”

You two followed a path along the lake, stumbling and tripping into each other thanks to the dark and your drunken strides. You were tempted to grab Eddie to keep yourself steady, but you refrained from doing so.

“I don’t wanna go home.” You slurred with a childish tone, hearing a slight laugh from Eddie, “Not like they want me there, anyway.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Eddie turn to give you a look, “That can’t be true.”

Now, you shot him a look, although it was dark enough that you couldn’t quite make out his features. You shook your head, “You haven’t met my parents.”

“So?” You saw him shrug then stumble over a branch a moment later, “If they really didn’t want you there, you’d know. Speaking from experience.”

You gasped smally in realization - god, you were such a bitch, complaining about your parents when you didn’t even know Eddie’s own situation. Maybe he was lucky you were drunk right now, because the instant guilt you felt wasn’t common for you.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m sorry.” You reached out for his hand and gave it a small squeeze, “You must think I’m the worst.”

He hummed a little before tugging you into his side, comfortably resting his arm over your shoulder despite the fact that no one was around to see you together.

“I didn’t think you were capable of apologizing.” You could hear the grin in his voice, “You’re allowed to complain about your parents, I don’t mind. It's been so long since I’ve seen mine that they never cross my mind.”

You sighed deeply, still feeling guilty. Tentatively, you snaked your arm around Eddie’s middle so that it wouldn’t be awkwardly hanging between you two, “Still, I shouldn’t bitch about mine when yours aren’t around.”

You felt Eddie shrug, “I’ve got Wayne, I don’t need them.”

A small smile graced your lips, and so you looked back up at Eddie again, actually able to make out his features now that you were close enough. He, too, had an easy, drunken smile on his lips, and for whatever reason you couldn’t help but stare, enjoying how he looked in the moonlight. You took in the slight bounce of his curls, the way his lashes shined in the pale light, the way his smile flattered his lips. You had to force yourself to look away, and briefly two thoughts were competing in your mind: Eddie was good looking, in his own way, and there was no reason for you to find his looks appealing.

As your gaze trailed across the rippling lake, you thoughtlessly, drunkenly blurted out, “I think my dad’s having an affair.”

Eddie whipped his head to level you with a surprised look - was he taken aback by the statement itself or the all too casual way in which you said it? You glanced up at him again, briefly shrugging as if what you said was perfectly normal. When Eddie raised his brows - a silent request that you elaborate - you jutted your lower lip in brief consideration.

“Let’s turn around, I want another drink.” You dipped out from under Eddie’s arm, spinning around to head back in the direction of Rick’s house. Eddie followed suit.

“You trying to distract me or yourself?” He questioned, sticking his hands in his pockets. You shot him a slight glare, tripping over a rock in the process. Before you could go crashing down to the ground like an idiot, Eddie helped steady you, wrapping his arm around you again in hopes that it would keep you from falling on your face. Your cheeks were already warm thanks to the alcohol, but now they were burning with embarrassment as you glowered at the path in front of you.

The walk back to the house was silent, Eddie sitting you down by the slowly dying bonfire before he ran inside. Only a small group still lingered by the burning embers, so engrossed in whatever they were doing that they didn’t spare you a second glance. You stared into the flames thoughtlessly until Eddie returned, offering you a bottle that you happily accepted.

“So,” Eddie sat next to you on the small bench, bumping your knee with his, “You think your dad’s cheating?”

You rolled your eyes as you took a large swig; your smile was unamused as you met his gaze, shaking your head, “We’re not gonna talk about it, Eddie.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, mulling something over with those glossy, drunken eyes for a few moments, “I like that you’re using my name now.”

You made a bit of a face before realizing he was right - you had been using his first name nearly all night, weirdly enough, “Huh… I didn’t notice.”

He grinned, looking you up and down fondly, “Guess that means you like me, doesn’t it?”

You smiled humorously, “Well, yeah, we already talked about that, like, a week ago.”

Eddie studied your face for just a moment, “So… we’re friends?”

Your expression brightened as you leaned your shoulder against his, “Yeah, we also established that.”

You took another drink, absentmindedly fussing with a loose thread on Eddie’s frayed jeans while your eyes studied the fire again. On the other side of the circle, the group of strangers rose to their feet and returned to the house, still seeming entirely unaware of you or Eddie. You watched them go, hearing the brief sound of music drifting towards you as they opened the back door; your gaze drifted to Eddie’s hands, watching as he fidgeted with one of his rings. You realized that his foot was bouncing a little, and you paused the hand that had been toying with the fabric of his pants. You furrowed your brow - was he nervous about something?

Wordlessly, you put your drink in Eddie’s hand, prompting him to look at you again, “I have to drive us, remember?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Didn’t Rick say anyone who needed to stay the night can? I don’t wanna be drunker than you tonight.”

“Too late.” Eddie teased, but nonetheless took a quick sip, “You’re a lightweight, princess, you’ll always be drunker than me.”

You grinned, “Whatever, so long as you’re drunk, too, right?”

“If I drink, will you talk to me about your dad?” You groaned at his insistence, taking the bottle back from him.

“Why do you care so much about that?”

Eddie shrugged, “You don’t talk a lot about personal stuff; you threw that out there and then tried to act like it wasn’t anything. Call it curiosity.”

You leaned towards Eddie a little, “Talking about personal stuff leads to pity or guilt or… something. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me, most of all you.”

Eddie nodded in understanding, turning his face towards the flames. Again, you caught yourself studying him, the shine of his eyes, the shape of his nose; the way the firelight danced on his face was damn flattering.

“A question for a question, then, does that seem fair?” He looked back towards you, recalling your first ‘date’ with one another.

An eager grin crossed your face, “Answer the question or take a shot?”

Eddie, too, smiled at the suggestion, even as he shook his head at your insistence to keep drinking, “Fine, but I’m limiting your shots, otherwise you won’t answer a damn thing.”

He stood before also pulling you to your feet, guiding the both of you up to the back porch. Once you were seated, Eddie ran back inside again, and you watched through the window as he grabbed a new bottle of booze and maneuvered around other party guests in search of a shot glass. He returned a minute later, sitting close to you.

“You first.” Eddie offered while carefully trying to pour the first shot. Nonetheless, he still managed to spill a few small drops on your knee, which you brushed away with the side of your hand, too drunk to care about how sticky your skin felt.

You hummed in consideration, “Seeing as you’re so curious about my parents, where are yours?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes at you, “I’m only answering if you promise to actually explain yourself when I ask my question.”

“That’s not how this game works.”

“You’re avoidant, it wouldn’t be fair if I poured my heart out for nothing.” He taunted with a challenging look in his eyes.

“Fine.” You sighed, to which he grinned largely.

“Thank you, is that so hard?” You glared smally, but Eddie was unphased as he playfully nudged you, “I don’t want you to pity me, either, okay? I’ve worked through this shit already. Mom died when I was… I dunno, three? Four? It’s been long enough that I don’t remember her at all. Dad ran off a couple years after that and left me with Wayne.”

You stared at each other for a few long moments, your eyes soft as you tried to imagine little Eddie dealing with that shit at such a young age. His brows went up as if to remind you not to feel sorry for him, so you nodded; he assessed you for a second longer.

“So, why do you think your dad’s cheating?”

“‘Why’ as in what's his reason or ‘why’ as in what’s my proof?”

Eddie sighed deeply, trying his very best not to smile at you, “Both, you smart ass.”

You couldn’t help but grin cheekily at his reaction, taking a moment to consider your answer. As you did, you once again found your hand on Eddie’s leg, fussing with the rip at the knee.

“He’s never around. Always says he’s working late or meeting a business partner or spending the weekend with friends. Doesn’t even spend time with my mom anymore. Honestly, I don’t think they ever had a good relationship - I think he just liked mom ‘cause she was pretty… And the lipstick I saw on his collar was a shade my mom would never wear…”

Eddie nodded in acceptance of the response, grateful that you actually gave him an honest, straight answer. Despite the fact that the two of you were supposed to be taking shots, you still took a large drink from the bottle in your hand. You didn’t want to linger on your family, so you moved on quickly.

“You ever had a real girlfriend before?”

“Only fake ones.” His quick response made you roll your eyes as you nudged him with your elbow. You then comfortably rested your head on Eddie’s shoulder, keeping your face turned up to watch his, causing him to laugh nervously, “No, um… there was one - hell, two - chicks that were almost something, but no.”

“That’s surprising.” Eddie’s brow shot up curiously, so you shrugged simply, “I just figured weird girls would be into you.”

It was clear on his face that Eddie wasn’t sure whether or not to take that as a compliment, “Only weird girls?”

You gaped at him for a moment as you tried to find the proper explanation, as much as drunk you just wanted to blurt out whatever came to mind first, “I just mean… you’re nice, you’re attentive, you’re attractive. You seem like the kinda guy who would make any normal girl… happy.”

Eddie’s expression stayed twisted in confusion, trying to make sense of what you were - and weren’t - saying, his cheeks tinged with pink, “And what do you consider a normal girl? Not a… popular chick? Or a princess like you?”

His question was pointed, flustering you, so you quickly sat back up and shrugged with something of a defensive face; you did not want to get into a drunken debate with him right now, “I don’t know, Eddie. Just… a girl.”

Eddie stared at you a moment longer, but soon shook his head and attempted to move away from the subject, his eyes conveying something that you couldn’t make sense of right now, “Do you miss any of your exes?”

You immediately laughed, unable to contain your amusement at the question, all too happy to forget the brief moment of awkwardness between you two. Eddie couldn’t help but grin along with you, “Hell no. They never even lasted long enough for me to think I loved them, how could I miss them?”

“You never loved any of them?” Eddie seemed surprised, so you shook your head, “Were there any you… almost loved?”

“Hmm, you’ll have to wait, it’s my turn to ask the question.” You responded cheekily. You barely considered what you wanted to ask next before grinning, “So, no girlfriends, but you’ve had sex, right?”

Eddie’s expression faltered a little, much to your surprise. For a moment, you stared at each other, Eddie in consideration and you in anticipation. You couldn’t help your surprise when he opted to down the shot just a moment later - you hadn’t thought that there’d possibly be a question that Eddie wouldn’t answer, you saw him almost as an open book in many ways.

Did that mean he hadn’t had sex? Or is it just something he didn’t want to discuss with you? Maybe the story was embarrassing or painful? Suddenly, you were all too curious about why Eddie wouldn’t answer, but you had to refrain from pushing the subject, else you two might get into a spat.

And so, your game continued, the two of you answering questions and taking shots, getting into the occasional debate about a stupid inquiry or a thoughtless comment. You eventually abandoned the game aspect and simply returned to talking, absorbed in conversation and finally slowing down your drinking. You stopped keeping track of just how much you both had a while ago, your blurry vision and slurring voice more than enough to convince you that you were drunk off your ass.

It had gotten so late that you both realized at some point the music had stopped playing inside, that the lights had been mostly turned off, that drunken conversation was no longer occurring from anywhere around you. You tried looking at Eddie’s wrist watch again, but it was pretty much impossible for you to actually see the time - needless to say, that was your cue that you two needed to call it a night.

So, you stood, balancing yourself with your hands on Eddie’s shoulders as your head spun, which made you giggle a little. Eddie waited to rise to his feet until you looked steady, slowly standing and keeping his hands on you to ensure neither of you went toppling to the ground. You continued to laugh as you stared at each other for a few long moments until Eddie finally began to guide you into the house.

Once inside, you whispered that you needed to use the restroom, so Eddie led you there, trying to look around the house and find a place for you to sleep as he waited. When you exited the bathroom, he wasn’t there to help you stumble your way through the mostly dark house, so with a pout you looked around yourself, poking your head into the other doors around you to see if there were any free beds to crash in.

“Eddie,” You drunkenly whined, walking back down the hall in his direction. He held a finger to his lips, instructing you to be quiet and not wake the others. Once you reached him, you delicately grabbed his arm and leaned in to whisper, “All the beds are taken.”

Eddie sighed to himself while looking around at all the partygoers sleeping in various spots of the living room. He didn’t know how late (or early) it was, but he could tell you were growing exhausted, the booze and weed finally catching up to you. He was tired as all hell, too, but unfortunately you two were beaten to all the comfy places to rest, too caught up in conversation to realize that the party had ended a while ago.

Eddie met your tired eyes thoughtfully, taking you in. In his own drunken state, he was nearly distracted by your pretty features; he’d always known you were pretty, it was damn obvious, but usually he was able to keep it from distracting him. As you two stood close together, illuminated by only the kitchen light streaming into the room, his stomach flipped at the arch of your brow, the curve of your nose, the pout of your lips. Eddie had to shake away the distraction of you and focus.

He put his hand on top of yours - the one that still held his arm - as he whispered, “Come on, I can make room in the van.”

Eddie began to lead you from the house, scooping up an extra couple pillows and blankets that were scattered about the living room as you trekked through it. You let yourself be pulled along without question, helping Eddie with the pillows before you tip-toed out the door.

The air was brisk by the lake, causing you to inhale sharply at the unexpected temperature - god, the van was going to be freezing, wasn’t it?

As Eddie threw open the back doors and began shifting things around the bed of the van, you watched him absentmindedly, drunkenly humming some nonsensical tune to yourself. You couldn’t see the way Eddie grinned at the sound. Of course, he already knew you were a lightweight, but considering how well you paced yourself tonight, he hadn’t noticed just how drunk you’d gotten. All the niceties and relaxing of your shoulders should’ve been a dead giveaway, but he was too caught up in those moments to think about it.

Once he finally made the back of the van as cozy as he possibly could, Eddie spun around and presented it to you as if it were a god damn chariot. You giggled smally.

“All yours, princess.” He stepped aside to let you climb in, so you sat and began to remove your shoes.

An inquisitive look furrowed your brows, “You’re staying with me, right?” Eddie shrugged simply, and momentarily your tone grew a little stronger, “I am not sleeping in this van alone.”

“What, you scared?” You narrowed your eyes at Eddie before he looked past you and at the cramped bed of the vehicle, “You know it’s gonna be a tight fit.”

An abrupt laugh escaped your mouth, and as Eddie looked at you in surprise, you raised your brow suggestively before returning your attention to your shoes. Sure, he’d heard you make sexual jokes often enough before, so he shouldn’t be surprised; maybe it was how you laughed, or maybe he was just too drunk. Either way, he felt the back of his neck grow warm.

You set your shoes aside before looking back up at Eddie, pulling your stiff jacket off your shoulders. You looked as if you’d already forgotten the silly little exchange you just had.

“Come on, Eddie, I can see you’re tired.” You got up on your knees and shuffled across the back of the van, setting your belongings in the front seat. You spun back around to face Eddie, sitting cross-legged despite the fact that you were wearing a skirt; you figured it was much too dark for Eddie to see anything anyway.

With a sigh, Eddie tugged off his own vest and jacket, ignoring the way you sat before him - he was pretty wiped now that you mentioned it. So, you’d sleep next to each other? You two had already done that before. You were both drunk and cold and tired, after all, so what could possibly go wrong?

Eddie crawled into the van and shut the doors behind him, leaving the two of you in near darkness. He shuffled towards the front of the van as well, bumping into your shoulder in the process and making you giggle. He felt a quick surge of warmth at the sound, but quickly tried to shake off the feeling.

Eddied added his things to the front seat, his shoes and jacket joining yours before he began fussing with the blankets, attempting not to bump you again. As you both tried to settle in and get comfortable, it became clear the van was going to be a little cramped considering that you two were trying to fit between junk and old equipment that was pushed as far to the side as they’d go. You kept brushing elbows or knocking knees, which kept making you drunkenly giggle, until finally you were both settled into some semblance of a comfortable position.

“Eddie…” You whispered, rolling on your side to face him; he had his back to you as if to maintain some propriety, much like your sleepover last week. He sighed before shuffling around once again to face you, nearly taken aback but just how close you actually were. Was there actually that little space or were you closer than you needed to be?

“Yes?” He whispered back, although he realized there was no need for either of you to be so quiet. The corner of his mouth pulled up in amusement.

Your eyes had adjusted well enough to the lack of light in the van, and so you simply stared at Eddie for a few moments, taking in what features you could see. Light from the moon reflected on his hair and vaguely illuminated his eyes, shadows accentuating the planes of his face. You smiled fondly at him. Once again, your drunken mind was realizing Eddie’s good looks while also trying to resist them. He was far more good looking than people, including you, gave him credit for.

You giggled to yourself, feeling warmth in your cheeks, which caused Eddie to give you one of his rascally grins that you were just thinking about. If only he knew you were laughing because of his lovely face.

“Did you need something?” He urged, still waiting for you to actually speak.

“It’s quiet.” You answered simply, causing him to now laugh, shaking his head a little.

“Yeah, because we’re trying to sleep.”  He teased, rolling onto his back with a content sigh. You huff to yourself, pushing back the blankets you’d just settled into; Eddie rolled his eyes at how antsy you were all of a sudden Was this yet another drunken habit he’d have to keep track of?

“Can I turn on the radio?” You began to shuffle up towards the front, but Eddie reached out for you blindly, managing to grab your leg; lucky for both of you, it was dark enough that he couldn’t see up your skirt despite this angle.

“No, you’ll kill the battery.”

You huffed, turning your attention back to Eddie, “Cassette player?”

Eddie sighed, “Up front.”

He released your leg, and you crawled into the front of the van, found the player, and crawled back next to him. You set the cassette player on the floor between the front seats and hit play, not at all concerned about what was in the deck; so long as there was something playing, you’d be satisfied.

Eddie smiled as the music started - Dio, the Last in Line. One of his favorite albums, hence why it practically lived in this cassette player. He’d left it on the B-side from the last time he’d played it, and admittedly he was happy to see that you were content to listen to it.

You once again fussed with the blankets and pillows, settling in even closer beside Eddie, who hoped you’d finally relax. It took you a minute, but once you finally seemed to be mellowed out, Eddie closed his eyes, speaking softly, “Night.”

But instead of responding, you propped yourself up on your elbow again thanks to your sporadically firing thoughts, going back to studying his face. Eddie looked at you with a furrowed brow, wondering what the hell was going through your head and where all this energy came from. He had yet to see you act like this, so hyperactive and restless.

With your free hand, you reached towards Eddie impulsively, making him nervous as you ever so lightly brushed your fingertips through the ends of his hair. His eyes widened, nearly shrinking from your touch as you hummed to yourself as if in confirmation of something.

“Are you… okay?” He asked, grabbing your wrist delicately, which caused you to curl your fingers just a little.

“I wanted to know if your hair was soft.” You answer as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, continuing to fuss with the end of his curls, “I think the shampoo you’re using is too harsh.”

Eddie made a puzzled face, not prepared for that comment. Hell, he wasn’t prepared for any of what’s happened in the past couple minutes. You continued to play with his hair absentmindedly, rocking your head lightly to the music, and Eddie hated to admit that he enjoyed it. He knew that you weren’t aware of what you were doing, you’d proven yourself to be far too drunk for that, but he liked to think that you were enjoying this as well.

“What makes you say that?” Eddie asked gently, realizing he was leaning into your touch just a little. The faintest of laughs escaped you, and you tilted down a little closer to him.

“Your hair seems heavy.” You state simply - obviously that made sense to you, but Eddie still didn’t quite understand. Momentarily, he didn’t worry about you leaning closer because he was trying to understand what you meant by that.

“Heavy?”

“Yeah,” Your voice was bright as you leaned over him, assessing his hair with your hand, “Your product weighs it down.”

Eddie chuckled a little, loosening his grip on your wrist and lightly drawing his finger down your forearm. A content sigh escaped your lips, the feathery touch of his calloused hand sending a shiver up your spine. Your sound made Eddie realize what he was doing, and so he quickly stopped, feeling far too warm - why the hell did he do that? He suddenly grasped that his touch was far too intimate and personal, and although that didn’t seem to bother you right now, it certainly made him pause; he was not quite drunk enough to excuse that.

“Let’s worry about my hair tomorrow.” Eddie instructed while removing his hand from your arm; he needed to relax, he was getting far too worked up by your close proximity and your hooded eyes. He figured you didn’t mean to be so close and personal and touchy with him right now, you were simply drunk.

Despite Eddie’s words, you stayed put, continuing to fuss with his hair and study his face with drunken, unabashed fondness. You looked between his eyes, and only then did you realize just how close you were to him.

As the second track on the cassette started, you considered the look on Eddie’s face - there was something hesitant there, something taken aback. You were very much in his space, but that wasn’t a problem, right?

Well, no, but it was weird for you. Not that you were terribly concerned - you were far too crossfaded to think clearly right now. One second, the small, sober part of your brain wondered what the hell you were doing, but the next second your drunkenness won out and you didn’t give a damn. Right now, you didn’t have a care in the world, all your focus trained solely on Eddie.

You found yourself attempting to hum along to the song that you didn’t recognize - you’d have to ask Eddie what this was later, if you could actually remember it. And your humming caused him to give you that charming smile that you had slowly become fond of. It was different from the playful grins, the mocking smirks, or the laughing smiles you saw regularly - this smile was more intimate, more personal, reserved just for you.

You were so caught up in that sweet smile that you didn’t realize at first that you were leaning in closer. Eddie didn’t seem to notice it either, as if he were hypnotized by the intensity of your gaze, by the softness of your touch and the closeness of your body. The only hint that Eddie was aware of what you were doing was the ever so subtle sigh that left his parted lips, which finally drew your attention away from his eyes.

His lips looked so damn plush, so damn inviting. Have you ever noticed that before? At this moment, it seemed impossible to ignore, so how had you been so unaware of it?

Eddie looked so damn… kissable.

And with all sober thoughts pushed to the wayside, you decided you needed to find out if that theory was true.

You closed the small gap between you two, pressing your lips to Eddie’s with an experimental softness, a tentative longing. A low, surprised moan rumbled in Eddie’s chest as you felt his body go rigid beneath yours; for a brief moment, the kiss was nearly nonexistent, as if Eddie was hesitant to reciprocate. But within nearly the same breath, his fingers traced delicately along your arm again, causing you to shiver as you let out a sound of satisfaction.

Feeling Eddie relax against you, you curled your fingers tighter in his hair, kissing him more firmly and confidently. You lowered your body to rest comfortably in his side, your now free hand cupping the back of his neck as you hooked an ankle over his. Eddie’s lips were soft yet musky, firm yet unfledged; his light stubble tickled your upper lip, a subtle smoky smell clinging to his skin.

Realizing that you were practically holding your breath, you forced yourself to pull away from the kiss, breathing deeply against Eddie’s lips. There was barely any space between you two, breath mingling, chests heaving, lips brushing. You were nearly tempted to pull back further just so you could meet his deep brown eyes, but you didn’t dare move for fear that it would break whatever spell you were under.

You thoughtlessly licked your swollen lower lip, causing the tip of your tongue to graze along Eddie’s lips as well. A surprised groan leapt out of him, your body suddenly feeling taut and flushed in response; god, you wanted him to make that sound again.

You dug your fingers into the back of Eddie’s neck and pulled him back towards you, your lips feverish and fierce as they pressed against his. This time, he reciprocated with aching curiosity, his gentle hands desperate as one cradled the back of your head and the other gripped the small of your back; as you pressed yourself flush against Eddie and rolled your hips, it caused the both of you to moan into the kiss.

Your hands cupped Eddie’s jaw excitedly, holding him close as you moved to straddle his waist. Another needy, amorous sound rose in his throat as you rolled your hips again, settling comfortably on top of him as you began to eagerly explore from his neck to his chest to his waist. You twisted his shirt in your fists as if you were afraid he’d pull back, kissing with even more sloppy feverishness.

Your heart pounded frantically in your chest, your body jolting under Eddie’s more tentative touch. The feel of his fingertips was oh-so light as he traced your arms, your spine, your exposed thigh. In response, you hungrily prodded at his lips with your tongue, excited by the low sound in his throat as he opened his mouth to you. You kissed Eddie fiercely as your hands returned to firmly gripping his jaw, keeping him there as if he were the air you breathed.

Continuing to rut slowly against him, a satisfied smile dared to interrupt your kiss as you felt Eddie growing hard beneath your hot center. Teasingly, you pulled your lips away from Eddie’s, his own chasing after yours in a way that made you grin with lustful satisfaction. You pressed your forehead to his, breathing heavily as your nose brushed against his. You slowly, gently dragged your lips across Eddie’s, over his hot cheek and up to his ear; his whole body shuddered beneath you as your breath tickled his skin.

“You’re good at this.” You drunkenly teased, voice low and breathy; you were certain you felt Eddie jolt again as he tried to catch his own breath. You turned to study him, awaiting some smart remark that never came; the look on Eddie’s face suggested he was too far gone to have any quips for you. You smiled again, brushing your lips against his cheek; you were tempted to keep taunting him, but became all too engrossed in watching him to even try.

Eddie’s parted lips were swollen, his breathing heavy as he stared up at the ceiling with a nearly stunned expression, trying to collect himself. His eyes bounced around as if in search of something, his hand unconsciously tracing invisible lines on your arm. You dragged your gaze down his throat - his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously - then to his chest, watching it deeply rise and fall. The smile hadn’t left your face, you realized as you brought your lustful gaze back up to his gentle face.

Eddie’s cheeks were bright red as he finally met your eyes, looking so soft and unsure and questioning as he drank you in. Your grin widened fondly as you simply stared at one another, which encouraged Eddie to smile himself, albeit with some hesitation. Feeling the rapid beating of his heart against you, you slid a hand to rest on his chest, tearing your gaze away from his to watch your fingers brush delicate circles in his shirt.

Drunkenly, you were torn between wanting to relax against Eddie and wanting to go back in for another kiss; hell, you could probably make out with him all night if he’d let you. But even with intoxication clouding your head, you could see in his expression that he could only handle so much of you, that he might burst if you kept teasing him and feeling him and kissing him.

Again, the sober part of you briefly reared her head, desperately trying to make sense of the fact that you just kissed Eddie as if your life depended on it. Thinking about how wild that was, you couldn’t help but giggle, which drew his intense eyes back to yours. You raised a brow as you studied his features yet again, a happy look on your face.

“Our secret?” The words came out of your mouth without you being fully aware of them. Through your drunken haze, you could see the way his expression furrowed at the question, the way his eyes seemed to panic as if he were finally crashing back down to earth.

“‘Our secret?’” He repeated in a confused, gruff tone. You nodded simply, resting your head down beside his, feeling the tickle of his hair on your cheeks. You didn’t catch the way he had to collect himself, how he swallowed hard in disappointment before replying gently, “Yeah, okay…”

If you were sober, you would have seen the upset in his expression, heard the doubt in words. Of course, if you were sober this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. But because you were drunk - both from alcohol and from that kiss - you entirely missed the way Eddie’s energy deflated like a balloon.

Instead, you smiled wide like a drunken fool, sinking into the blankets and pillows beside Eddie with a sense of satisfaction. You kept one hand resting comfortably on his chest, your face nearly in the crook of his neck; you realized how exhausted you were now, the feeling having escaped you while you were absorbed in the sensation of Eddie’s lips against yours.

As a tired fog slowly began to encompass you, Eddie gently set his hand on top of yours, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. You closed your eyes with a comfortable sigh, letting Eddie’s steady breathing help lull you to sleep.

Just as you were on the brink of consciousness, you felt Eddie’s lips brush against your forehead, his voice low as he gently muttered something that you couldn’t quite make out.

.

.

addt. Author's Note | So uuuuuh surprise? 👀In case y'all missed it or were unsure, the song referenced in this chap is Mystery by Dio, which is one of my fav songs by the band and one I've associated with these two idiots for a while! Now, let's all scream and shout about this chapter together, because I'm SO eager to see what y'all think~

@3rd-conchord @a-queen-blr @adelalaaa @adversary713 @avalon-wolf

@cosmicdanielle @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie

@damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson @em0220 @frogtape

@fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @graciehams @kthomps914 @littlexdeaths

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @maskofmirrors @mewchiili

@miaajaade @miss-celestial-being @mmmunson @moonisu @munsonssweets

@no-bueno-writer @nxrdamp @rach5ive @rcailleachcola @sav12321

@sheneedsrocknroll92 @sokkasimp101 @steeldaisies @stormgrl19

[berberriescorner]

“Are You Listening?”

Interlude: “Drinks On Me, Yeah?”

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Issa Interlude, mama. Expect the unexpected.

Warnings: Profanity, angst, fluff, and drinking-little libation for the one, two.

Word Count: 1,700+.

A/N: My lovelies! My babies! Mama’s back and I got a little sum-sum for ya! Let’s start this weekend with a little Rio and the crew, yeah? Yeah. I want to give so many thanks to all of you sweet lovelies who have been rocking with me this entire time. Most of you know that the past year and a half has been quite the struggle. To everybody who took time out of your day to come and check in on me, please know that I’m appreciative and forever grateful to have connected with such amazing people🥹♥️. Thank you for all the sweet, hilarious comments and asks as well💓. I’m a little rusty, so be gentle with your girl. Enjoy my sweet babies.  Before anyone asks, yes, I’ve been working on Pt. 4😂😏😈.

"Are You Listening?" - The Playlist

Apple Music.

Spotify.

Part One Here.

Part Two Here.

Part Three Here.

Inspired By:

Your body pressed down into the plush mattress as you reveled in the comfort and security of being home. Your mind replayed the image of your mom snatching the door open, the two of you hugging tightly, rocking side to side. You had spent the past week trying to survive final exams and warding off the many questions of, “What’s wrong, baby girl?” The woman who gave you life knew you all too well. Sensing that her youngest baby was struggling, her attempts to get you to open up over the phone went unanswered. With the semester complete, being home didn’t leave much space to dodge the knowing gaze in her eyes. 

That master’s degree will probably be a waste of time.

The moment you pulled away from the hug, she cupped your chin, and your poker face cracked as the tears cascaded down your cheeks. Two hours later, you filled her in on everything from the stress of school, financial aid, working doubles, and the fresh crack in your heart that was taking its sweet-ass time to heal. All of which had only taken about forty minutes to stutter out. The talk and her comfort had left you wiped out, and just like any amazing mother would do, she sent you to your room for a nap and got to work on preparing comfort food.

You considered dozing off for a bit more rest, but your bedroom door flew open, bouncing off the corner of your vanity. Your eyes narrowed to mere slits as you started to curse your oldest brother out. His hand raising halted the verbal reprimand.

“Alena’s big-headed ass is here to see ya mean ass,” he snarked about the woman who would eventually become his wife.

These two bitches are so in love. It’s sickening. The attraction is so annoyingly obvious. Shit makes me sick to my stomach.

Before you could tell him you didn’t want company, she was already in the doorframe. “Uh-uh, bitch you are not about to dodge me for another two weeks.” With those words said, you had no choice but to give her a rundown of what had transpired. Not only had she forced you to divulge every last detail while the two of you hugged and cried together. She also took it upon herself to wiggle you into your best freakum dress and head out for a girl’s night.

Being the baby and the only girl in your family made for very over-the-top protective parents. The moment your father saw your attire, he wouldn’t let up. He was hell-bent on forcing your brothers to chaperone.

It wasn’t a horrible idea.  Only you didn’t like your independence challenged. Luckily, the older siblings were pretty chill, so long as no one was overly aggressive. They had taught you how to handle shit for yourself at a young age. You spent the first half hour in the club pouting and ready to go home to wallow in self-misery.

“Hoe! If you don’t fix your face, scaring off every good-looking man in this club!”

“They’ll be alright, so long as they keep their distance. In case you didn’t get the memo after our long talk. Men make my ass itch,” you growled, kissing your teeth.

“Whateva, you and that stank attitude can have a good time together,” she sassed, throwing up a hand and walking away from the bar.”

“Where are you going? Alena!”

“I’ll be back, damn! Let me go on and annoy them, fine-ass brothers of yours. Be nice, and don’t bite nobody head off, sourpuss.”

“Always thirsting after my blood, just triflin’.”

With the flick of a middle finger, she sauntered over to their section. You could see the irritation rolling off them as she seated herself in the middle. The arguing started seconds later. Your eye twitched at the sight. Swinging the barstool back toward the liquor, you were about to pass the time scrolling through social media. Instead, a set of bronzed-colored, muscular digits came into view. They gently pressed your phone to the bar as the matching digits slid another lemon drop into view. Your eyes danced along those muscular fingers, trailing upward until they landed on one of the sexiest faces you’d ever witnessed. If any other man would’ve done this, he would’ve been set straight expeditiously. In this instance, ole boy was just too damn fine, and it left you on mute. The corners of his mouth lifted into a handsome smirk.

The stranger turned his barstool to get closer. One hand rested on the bar while the other cradled the back of your seat. His eyes roamed over your body, lip tucking between his teeth, matching you stare for stare. He chuckled when he noticed your quirked eyebrow.

“I don’t mean to intrude on ya evening, but I figured you could use another drink.”

“Is that so?”

“Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your friend. I’m tryin’ to  figure out why these men got your fine ass itching out here.”

Shit, he heard that? Floor, open up and swallow me. That’s so damn embarrassing.

As if reading your thoughts, he continued, “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mama. There’s a lot of boys running around here pretending to be men. Who was crazy enough to fumble you? He gotta be the dumbest man on earth.”

As if on cue, said fumbler’s name popped up on your caller ID. With a swipe of a finger, the phone went silent. You turned back to your new admirer. He had signaled for another round of drinks.

“Either you’re a big spender, or the bartender is your connect,” you teased.

“Connect is one way of putting it. This my spot, darlin’.”

He chuckled as you damn near choked on your drink.

“I’m sorry. Tend to put my foot in my mouth.”

“You good. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind. Dealing with me, you go to say it with your chest.”

“Oh, so you plan to be around me beyond tonight?”

“Around, underneath, on top. We locked in, mama,” he insisted, licking his lips.

“I don’t even know your name, fool,” you cackled at his cockiness.

“Name’s Rio, but you can call me Christopher, mama. My future wife needs to know my government name. I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t be tellin’ my business, sweetheart.”

“Who says I’m checking for you, Rio?”

“You accepted my company and drinks. Deep down, you’re intrigued by me. Ain’t no need to hide it. When I see something I want, gotta go after it, mama.” he rasped, voice lowering to a panty-dropping level.

“You’re trouble. I just know it.”

Rio planted both hands on your thighs. The gasp that escaped you lit his brown orbs with passion.

“Can I have your undivided attention for the night? Want to get to know you better, mama.”

Grabbing his outstretched hand, he helped you down off the stool.

“Rio…”

Piercing light flickered in the darkness, pulling you from the memory that played itself in your dreams. Your hand snatched the vibrating phone from the table. Your orbs squinted to read the screen, teeth clenching in frustration.

Fucking Rio, I can’t even get away from him in my sleep. Stupid-handsome-asshole.

With a single tap, the phone rested on DND. You closed off from the world to find a peaceful slumber, only to wake from another dream. Throwing the covers back, you startled, feeling the bed dip. His cologne wafted through the air, and your eyes connected.

“Why all the tossing and turning, amor? Hmm,” he rasped, hand trailing up your arm. His warm palm cradled the side of your neck, rubbing away some of the tension.

“Sorry, did my restlessness wake you?”

“No, querida. I’ve been up taking care of some things.”

“Same old Miguel. Everything business. Still don’t sleep much, huh?”

His eyes crinkled with a small smile, but you could also see sadness. It’s the same unhappiness that’s always lingered, only now accompanied by sparks of anger and resentment. Your mind replayed his words in the elevator.

Where’s your wife, Miguel?

She had other plans tonight.

The slightest mention of her had nearly sent his mood spiraling. You weren’t privy to what was happening in his marriage but didn’t want to pry. He would only reverse card uno your ass. Miguel would insist that you vent about your own life and frustrations.

“Thank you for taking the couch,” you nibbled at your lip. 

There was a hint of frustration and guilt lingering in your chest. Not being able to sleep without dreaming of Rio left you feeling conflicted. Part of you wanted to say to hell with loyalty. Being in such a vulnerable state had you craving to be held and cuddled, but regardless of circumstance, the two of you were very much married. Concern swam in the pools of his eyes. Miguel sensed the ongoing dilemma in your head, and his fingers gently cupped your chin.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s all this,” he asked, tugging the lip between your teeth. “Tell me what you need.”

“I can’t,” you sighed.

“You can, and you will. Look at me,” he insisted as your eyes locked.

“Anything you ask me. It won’t leave this room. You need me to hold you until sleep takes over, amor?”

Unable to verbally say it, you gave him a slight head nod. Removing his tie, watch, and shoes, he made it over to the opposite side of the bed. Miguel got right to it, not giving you time to overthink it. He pulled you into his chest, arms engulfing you in a tight hug.

“Were you having nightmares, cariño?”

“No, just happy memories reminding me of the present painful ones,” you replied, voice filling with unshed tears.

“You want to talk about it?”

Silence filled the room as Miguel continued, “We don’t have to ta-.”

His sentence cut short as he felt the tremors and your head burrowed into his side. Miguel’s heart cracked at the sound of the sobs falling from your lips. His arms pulled you further into him until there was no space left, and the palm of his hand rubbed at your head.

“Shhh, you’re okay. I’m here,” he cooed, leaving soft kisses on the crown of your head.

Miguel continued to whisper calming words. You cried until your head pounded, and sleep took over.

Hope you all enjoyed that little peek into how Rio pulled up on your girl for the first time. He saw something he liked, and he had to have you🥰. We’ll just call this a vague moment of insight into upcoming events...if that makes sense 😆. If you enjoyed please be sure to hit the love button, comment, and reblog. Spread the love, my babies.

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Tags:

@darqchilddaydreamz @4everbrookemarie @astoldbychae @percosim @1andonlytashae @nightlywords7 @amorestevens @crimsonheart01 @rio-reid-whoreee @mrsmontanalol @igigix @keaboyd21 @blowmymbackout @uhlxis @abcdestinyyyy @hihellogoodbyebruh @sunshine-flower @lemmewritesomeish @catxo @naughtyslashers @realhotgurlshit @peaches007 @gardenof-venus @aizawash0e @minton131 @novaniskye @90sisthenew80s @cjricks98 @skyesthebomb @myownworstenemydw @lifeofthelovelyone @tashawar @gabbywontlose @kayla1blog @skelly-baby @adg1115 @blessedboo @fandomcitysstuff @drinaj @being-worthy @sxkxna @whore4-horror @elliesrealgf @pimpsdontcryy @batgurl42 @gotbeefbitch-blog @thedopestblackgirl @nunya7394 @midnightheat @pixieyosi @imjustheretoreads-blog 

@superhoeva @memeaaaa @djconde58

[wafflefries13]

Rose With(out) Thorns (Riddle x Reader)

Summary: Riddle needs help putting off his mother's plans to set him up for an engagement, so what better way than to fake date NRC's favorite magicless prefect? Things can only go well. (No, they can't.)

AN: Fake dating, yay! Had the idea for this a long while back, finally got around to writing it. And, like most of my fics I'm finding out, it kind of got away from me. I hope at some point, probably some time in book 7 here, we finally get a confrontation with Riddle's mom. I hate Riddle's mom, all the cool bitches I know hate Riddle's mom.

Warnings: Depictions of a toxic family environment, AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

When Riddle had pulled (Y/N) aside after classes, she didn’t expect to be sitting in one of Heartstabuyl’s tea rooms, a cooling cup of herbal tea placed in front of her. (Y/N) sipped the tea, observing Riddle. His mouth was pulled into a small frown, eyebrows furrowed in determined concentration. His hands were clasped behind him and he was pacing so much (Y/N) was worried about him wearing a hole in the rug. It had almost seemed like he had forgotten she was there. 

“Riddle?” She prompted gently. 

Riddle jumped, startled. (Y/N) really did think he had forgotten about her. His face turned pink, blushing up to his ears. He cleared his throat, promptly sitting down in the chair across from her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,” He said, swirling a spoonful of honey into his tea. She tried to not take it personally that he wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Something going on with Ace and Deuce?” She asked, jumping to the most logical conclusion. “I don’t mind meditating.” 

“No, thankfully, both of them have actually been rather pleasant as of late. This is of a more… personal nature.” 

“Oh? Are you doing okay?” She set her cup down, leaning forward. 

His blush went from gentle pink to strawberry red. “I - ahem, yes, no, I’m fine, it’s not that I don’t - what I mean to say is, ah, well…” Deciding there was no elegant way to put it, Riddle’s shoulders slumped as he stared dejectedly into his tea. “It’s my mother.” 

(Y/N) immediately tensed. “Oh.” 

The last time (Y/N) had thought about Riddle’s mother was when he was about to leave for winter break. She remembered how quiet he had been, not even bothering to reprimand the excited first years running around the mirror chamber like excited kids. (Y/N) had taken advantage of his momentary distraction to snatch his phone from his dazed hands and entered her number. 

“In case you need anything,” She had said. “Or, you know, you just miss me too much and want to say hi.” 

He really did blush way too easily. 

Of course, any plans for talking on the phone were quickly eliminated by the events at Scarabia. When (Y/N) finally did get her phone back, she found a couple of missed calls and overly formal texts from Riddle’s number, buried in between the frantic messages from Ace and Deuce responding to her SOS. 

Back in the tea room, (Y/N) set her cup down, leaning forward to meet Riddle’s eyes. “Hey,” She said gently. “You know if I can do anything for you I will.” 

“It’s not that easy,” He said. “My mother asked me to come home for the long weekend coming up. And I highly suspect she wants me there to… try and arrange a match.” 

“A match? Wait, like getting engaged? Aren’t you kind of young for that?” 

Riddle shrugged. “It would definitely be a long engagement, but it’s not uncommon to have a match set up years in advance, especially between prominent families like mine.” 

“How very Jane Austen.” 

“Sorry?” 

“An author from my world, she wrote romances. Anyway, sorry, keep going.” 

“Well, I agree that it seems soon. To be fair, Mother was trying to set something up before I came to Night Raven College as well. Being accepted to such a prestigious magic school only elevated my prospects, as she put it. She wants to establish a solid match with another high ranking family, setting my future in stone. Especially after everything that happened at the beginning of the year.” They were both quiet for a moment, fighting off memories of Riddle’s Overblot. “I…” Riddle continued. “I don’t think anyone back home knows.” 

“Oh. Well, it’s like personal medical information, right? Even if it’s magical or whatever it’s still your mental health. You don’t owe anyone that.” 

“I don’t think that’s why she hasn’t told anyone. I know it might be hard for you to believe after everything that’s happened this year, but Overblots are still considered rare. Not many survive the process. And those that do, well, they aren’t looked upon as kindly as you’ve looked upon us.” 

(Y/N) set her cup down hard. “That’s not fair! It’s not some moral failing. You and everyone else were - are - dealing with really tough emotions! It’s not right to just ignore trauma and your feelings, that’s what led to everything happening in the first place!” 

“I’m glad you see it that way. And, if I’m being honest, public perception of the emotional stress that can lead to an Overblot and those who make it through the process are gradually being seen with more sympathy. Like you said, it’s a mental health issue at the core. But older communities like the one I grew up in are slower to accept new social views.”  

(Y/N) sat back. “I’m sorry, Riddle. That sounds really hard.” 

“Thank you,” Riddle breathed. He cleared his throat. “Well, that sort of awkwardly leads to what I was wanting to ask you in the first place.” He cleared his throat again, nervously looking around the room. Finally, steadying himself, he forced himself to meet (Y/N) eyes. “I would like you to come with me and act as my partner.” 

(Y/N) felt her head go light and heart jump. “You want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” 

Riddle’s confidence cracked as he looked away again. “In so many words, yes.” 

“Wow. Forget Jane Austen, this is more Meg Ryan territory.” Riddle blinked. “Never mind, forget it. I mean, not what you’re talking about, just, it’s not what I was expecting you to say.” 

“It’s not the most conventional request, to be fair. But I’ve turned this over in my head for days and I can’t see any way out of it. My plan is to show I’m taken, dissuade the marriage market. It will be one less thing for Mother to hold over my head. I’ll probably have to deal with it eventually when I graduate but I don’t even want to consider getting engaged right now, for economic, political, or whatever other reason. I’ve never been overly fond of the prospects my mother has introduced anyway. Not that I want to pressure you or anything! I completely understand if you wouldn’t feel comfortable for any reason and I completely respect your decision-” 

“Well, hey, don’t answer for me, now.” (Y/N) reached forward and touched the back of Riddle’s hand, jolting him out of the spiral he was throwing himself in. He jumped at the contact. “It’s unorthodox, but since when has anything here been orthodox? Of course I’ll help, Riddle. I can’t guarantee I’ll be very good at it, but I’ll do my best.” 

Riddle blinked at her for a moment, registering her words, then the tension practically floated off his shoulders. “That’s - that’s great, thank you.” 

“Hey, what are friends for? Besides, this will make a great story to tell the guys later.” 

Riddle scowled, blushing again. “Don’t.” 

~~~

A few days later, (Y/N) and Riddle stood in the mirror chamber. They had come up with a cover to tell everyone while they were gone. Since (Y/N) technically didn’t exist in Twisted Wonderland, not having any government papers or even a birth certificate, Riddle suggested they visit Dinah, the capital city of the Queendom of Roses and his home city, to petition at an official government building for temporary citizenship.  It was really only a half truth. If they had time between the deception, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try. 

Grim was staying at Heartstabuyl with Ace and Deuce, although it would be more accurate to say with Trey, since he was clearly the one in charge while the House Warden was away. 

“And make sure to do that reading for History of Magic,” (Y/N) was saying, fiddling with Grim’s bow and magestone. “I marked the pages and put highlight tabs on the parts you need to take notes on. And don’t eat too many sweets, you’ll give yourself a stomach ache again. And don’t stay up too late or else you won’t have the energy to do anything during the day and you’ll throw off your whole sleep schedule. And-” 

“Mrow!” Grim cried, batting her hands away. “I get it, I get it! I’m not a little kid, you know!” 

(Y/N) smiled softly, scratching behind his ears. “Of course I know. You’re a big full grown dire beast who doesn't need anyone to take care of you. Why, I bet when I come back you won’t need me to cook for you anymore or make sure you wake up on time. You probably don’t even want a souvenir!” 

“No, no! I like your cooking! And you better bring me something back, henchhuman!” 

“Of course, Grim.” 

Like a parent sending their child to school for the first time, (Y/N) and Grim detangled themselves from each other. Grim floated back with Ace and Deuce, who also required promises of souvenirs, and gave a final wave. (Y/N) waved back before stepping through the mirror portal after Riddle, luggage in hand. 

There was always a strange feeling when going through the mirror, far spaces being squished together in a more convenient and transversable state. If (Y/N) hadn’t already been dragged underwater to swim through the depths unbothered, she would have compared it to being surrounded by water. Instead, she would more closely compare it the moments after a fall or jump, when totally suspended in the air with no tether. A slight jolt of the stomach at first, a feeling of weightlessness, a rush of cold along the spine, and then they were there. 

(Y/N) still wasn’t completely sure how the mirror portal worked, or how it chose where to deposit someone, considering there wasn’t always a mirror on the other end. She knew it had something to do with the magestones NRC students wore on their armband, and that it helped to leave and come back from the same place, but other than that it was just another magic mystery she didn’t want to think too hard about. 

(Y/N) shook her head as she stepped from the portal back on solid ground. Bright sunlight warmed her skin as she blinked and looked around. (Y/N)’s first impression of Dinah was a memory of a picturesque depiction of Victorian London. The street in front of them was wide, paved in even brick. There were store fronts painted in bright warm colors with big display windows, buildings stacked high with higher chimneys on top. Men and women strolled along the street, seemingly dressed to the nines for a perfectly ordinary outing, with top hats and long coats, bustled dresses in fanciful colors and feather hats. 

A pair of horses pulled a dark blue omnibus carriage down the street, hooves making a pleasant ‘clip-clop’ sound as they meandered. It made (Y/N) wonder about the technological advancements of Twisted Wonderland, not for the first time. She had remembered how surprised she had been to see that cars existed in Sunrise City, when previously the only methods of transportation she had seen had been brooms, ghostly carriages, boats, and mirror portals. She frowned at the memory of Leona teasing her about her surprise. 

“We have our own carriage,” Riddle told her, mistaking her expression as she watched the omnibus. “Mother sent it to collect us. It should be here - ah, there.” Riddle lifted his hand in greeting to the approaching carriage. 

A white horse pulled a ruby carriage with a stenciled rose against a six-pointed starburst emblazoned on the doors. There were two men in stately red velvet livery on the carriage, one at the front, flicking the reins and lazily holding a horse whip, and the other holding on the back above the wheels. As they pulled along the sidewalk, the driver nodded and the footman jumped down to formally bow. He lugged their luggage atop the carriage, a barely noticeable judgmental sneer pulling at his mouth as he handled (Y/N)’s. While Riddle’s bag was neat and new, as beautiful as it was practical, (Y/N) had foraged hers from somewhere deep in the depths of Ramshackle dorm, among the abandoned rooms and chests and closets with all manner of ragged treasures. The carriage rocked as they climbed in, sitting on soft overstuffed bench seats facing each other. Riddle knocked against the roof when they were settled and the carriage rumbled forward. 

(Y/N) stared out the window, marveling at everything they passed. “Hey, how far is Trey’s family bakery from here?” She asked. 

“Hmm? Oh, not far, but I’m not sure we’ll have time to go by. I’m not sure Mother would approve of it.” 

(Y/N) turned back to Riddle, noticing how he gazed out the window without really seeing anything. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knee jittering with nerves.  

She reached a hand forward and touched his jumping knee, causing him to startle. “Hey,” She said softly. “It’s going to be okay. You got me here with you, right? And-” She rummaged through the pocket on her NRC uniform, the most formal attire she had for making a good impression. She pulled out a small Moleskine notebook, proudly displaying it. “I’ve been taking notes! I have a bunch of the Queen of Heart’s rules here. I don’t have nearly as many memorized as you do but I figured a cheat sheet wouldn’t hurt.” 

Riddle looked at the notebook for a second before smiling in relief. “Thank you, (Y/N). I’m sorry, I haven’t been a very good host so far, have I? Especially considering what you’re doing for me.” 

(Y/N) switched sides, landing heavily next to Riddle as the carriage went over a bump. She lightly knocked his arm with the back of her fist. “I told you it’s fine. I’m happy to help out. I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you so uptight before, and that’s saying something.” 

Riddle frowned. “I’m not uptight.” 

“Sure you’re not, teapot tyrant.” Riddle huffed and turned away. “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Seriously, though, are you doing okay?” 

Riddle fiddled with his fingers, choosing his words carefully. “The last time I came home, over winter break, my mother and I… well, it wasn’t a fight, exactly. An argument. That just so happened to lead to raised voices. And some harsh words. And maybe some things that are hard to take back.” 

(Y/N) wasn’t really sure what to say to that. She sat back, focusing on the rumbling of the carriage beneath her. She noticed Riddle fiddling with his fingers again, picking at the skin around his nails.  She slid her hand into his, holding it tight between them. She stared straight ahead, ignoring Riddle’s look of shock, no matter how cute his rising blush made him look. She squeezed his hand once, looking out her window. Riddle watched her face in profile, feeling the warmth of her hand in his, their shoulders occasionally bumping each other with the rocking of the carriage. He turned back to his own window, squeezing back.  

A short while later, the carriage pulled in front of an elaborate townhouse. It had a beautiful red brick facade with white trimming around the windows and door. Ivy climbed elegantly up one side of the building There was a waist high black wrought iron fence around the perimeter, and the small yard in front was studded with blooming red rose bushes with butterflies elegantly flitting from flower to flower. And, while it was undoubtedly beautiful and picture perfect, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel a little put off by the whole image. It seemed too perfect, not a blade of grass out of place or a bruised petal. Even the butterflies felt like they were on a preapproved flight path. Despite the fresh air outside, it was stifling. 

As the footman on the carriage unloaded their bags, (Y/N) made a move to pick hers up, only for a valet to swoop in and effortlessly scoop up both bags. He turned and marched back through a door that seemed to shimmer out of nowhere, disappearing behind the ivy when he went through it. 

“A servant’s entrance,” Riddle told her. “There are several through the house. It helps keep everyone separated.” 

“I could have gotten my stuff,” She said. “It’s heavy.” 

“You’re a guest. It would be impolite to expect you to carry your own things.” 

A man in a crisp black suit with a gold pocket watch dangling from the front breast pocket opened the door, bowing low with a hand on his chest. “Welcome back, Master Riddle.” He said. The man looked up, sweeping a quick but appraising look over (Y/N). “And this is Miss (Y/N)?” 

“Yes, hello!” (Y/N) greeted, smiling brightly. She walked forward, taking hold of the man’s hand and with both of hers and shaking it. She missed the choking gasp Riddle let out behind her. “Just (Y/N) is fine. It’s so nice to meet you! This is a lovely home. I’ve never been to Dinah before, everything is so beautiful! I’ve only been to the Queendom of Roses once before, in this place called Clocktown for a festival, but it’s so much different here.” 

The butler nearly reared back at her greeting, going stiff as a board, but too polite to all together flinch and snatch his hand back. He merely retracted his hand, looked once at Riddle, then gazed straight ahead impassively. “Yes, well, welcome to the Rosehearts townhome. I hope you… enjoy your stay, Miss (Y/N).” 

(Y/N), determined to push through the awkwardness she could sense building, replied chipperly, “Thanks!” And strode inside without looking back. 

“Thank you, Edgar,” Riddle said as the butter closed the door behind them. “Do you know when Mother and Father will be home?” 

“Dr. Rosehearts was called in for a last minute surgery and I believe Mr. Rosehearts is at his club. They both planned to be home for dinner to meet you and your… guest.” 

The only way (Y/N) could think to describe the townhouse was grand. A grand sweeping staircase to the second floor, marble flooring of black and white checkered tile, two rooms on either side of the entrance hall stuffed with comfortable furniture with lace, one room farther to the back half-hidden behind the staircase, and decorative oil paintings. 

“Wow,” She said. “This is where you grew up?” 

“Partially, yes,” Riddle said. “We have a country estate as well, but the hospital is in town and Mother always wanted to be present for the social season.” 

“Ooh, a country estate and the social season. Look at you, sounding all fancy.” 

“Well, excuse me for being raised in polite society, unlike some people.” 

“Hey!” (Y/N) laughed, playfully shoving him as he grinned back. 

Riddle’s eyes cut back to Edgar the butler, watching the two of them with a critical eye and raised eyebrow. Riddle cleared his throat and schooled his face back to a serious expression. “I’ll show you your room, (Y/N). It’s upstairs.” 

“Was it too much?” (Y/N) asked as they ascended the staircase, out of ear shot from Edgar. “I was trying to make a good impression.” 

“People don’t tend to be as friendly with strangers here,” He said. “When you meet my parents it would be better to wait for them to act first.” 

“So no big hug?” She laughed at Riddle’s glare. “Don’t worry, I’ll be picture perfect polite tonight. I know it’s important to you.” 

“Thank you. To be honest I still feel awkward about all of this.” “I could say ‘what are friends for’ but I think we’re a little past that. It’s not like I’m getting nothing out of this. This place is like a fancy hotel!” She pushed open the door to her room, bright with the sunlight streaming in across a bed with a large fluffy white duvet across it. (Y/N) spun around, falling against the bed with a ‘poof’ of the down feather pillows. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft,” She sighed. Suddenly she sat straight up. “Oh, oh! Show me your room!” 

“What?” 

She jumped up, taking his hand and pulling him back down the hall. “Come on, let me see your room! I want to see what you’re like when you're not at school.” 

“Much the same, I promise.” 

His eyes cut to a door down the hall and (Y/N) grinned wickedly. Ignoring Riddle’s sound of protest, she threw open his door. 

She faltered a bit as she looked inside, stomach squeezing with that same unease she felt from outside. Spartan wouldn’t be the right way to describe Riddle’s childhood bedroom. Sure, there was plenty of stuff in it, a neatly made bed, an expensive looking desk with a glass hooded reading lamp, plenty of books filling shelves, and a polished wardrobe. But it felt so bare. It felt more like a catalog picture than someone’s own bedroom they had grown up in. (Y/N) looked back to Riddle, who was looking down as if ashamed, like his room was full of trash rather than uninspiringly neat. 

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face, closing the door. “Well, show me around. Back in my world, houses like these would have a bunch of secret passages, maybe a couple of ghosts. But I guess ghosts aren’t all that unusual here.” 

“I think your home has more ghosts than mine,” Riddle said. “As for secret passages…” 

(Y/N) clapped her hands together. “Yeah?” 

Riddle smiled slyly. “Sorry, none of those either. Unless you’re thinking of servant’s doors, but I don’t think they would appreciate us meddling.�� 

“Aw, boo.” 

“No pun intended, I’m sure.” 

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

“How about the garden? It’s out back. I’ll have someone bring us tea. It’ll give us a chance to strategize.” 

The garden was nestled in the backyard of the townhome, bordered by high fences separating it from the other townhomes. There were, unsurprisingly, rose bushes in raised wooden boxes. White gravel pathways cut through each of the boxes, strolling under a trellis wound with flowers. To the back of the garden was a small glass greenhouse, filled with different medical herbs and plants along with scientific equipment for study. There was a small table on the back porch underneath a pergola wrapped with ivy. After Riddle gave (Y/N) a tour of the gardens they sat down and a maid brought out a white China teapot, pouring tea into delicate blue and white tea cups. (Y/N) inhaled the steam, letting the warmth and sweet notes of the tea fill her lungs before taking a sip. 

“Thanks!” (Y/N) said to the maid who blinked before bobbing a nod and rushing off. (Y/N) made a note to herself that the servants here had a habit of avoiding eye contact. “Okay,” She said, taking a blueberry scone from a plate the maid brought with the tea. “What’s our game plan?” 

“Well, my mother is obviously the one to impress. I don’t believe Father will have much to say, he usually defers to her. That’s usually a good plan with anything, deferring to her, I mean. Safe topics of conversation include the weather, recent medical innovations, and the health and travel of neighbors. It’s best to avoid personal topics like parliament, gossip, or personal questions. It’s also best to avoid discussing novels, Mother says they fill one’s head with fanciful ideas and nonsense.” 

“Okay, so when would be the best time to brag about you?” 

Riddle’s teacup clattered against the saucer. “What?” 

“Well, you’re my fake boyfriend and I’m trying to look good in front of your mom, so it makes sense if I talk you up, right? Like how you’re a great dorm leader, that dressage stuff you’ve been doing in the equestrian club, how you’ve been helping other students study. Cater told me about how you set up a Magicam account just to help him study, that was super cute.” 

“I’m, ah, not actually supposed to have a Magicam account, educational or otherwise, so it’s probably best not to bring that up. Mother says social media rots your brain.” 

“I mean, sometimes, yeah, but it can be fun too. And I know you still post sometimes. I follow you.” 

“You do?” 

“Of course I do! Those study tips didn’t just help Cater. Plus I like to see what’s going on with you. Not that you post stuff very often or anything, but I did like that picture from the last Unbirthday Party with those cupcakes you made.” 

Riddle waved her praise off. “They weren’t anything special. Most of the frosting was smudged all together anyway.” 

“Oh, don’t sell yourself so short. You don’t have to be perfect at everything, especially the first time around. And I thought they were cute.” She fished her phone out of her pocket, quickly swiping to the picture they were talking about on Magicam. It was a close up of Riddle, smiling, face smeared with red frosting. Trey was caught mid-laugh, handing him a napkin. Ace’s hand was blurred with movement in the lower right edge, having snagged a cupcake from the tray Riddle was holding, covered with cartoon rose dotting liners. It was obvious that the red and white frosting on top was meant to replicate delicate rose petals, and while some of them looked presentable, most had been piped with a shaky hand, leaving too much or too little frosting for the petals. “See? Cute.” 

Riddle’s hand darted forward to push the phone down. “Yes, sure, fine, you made your point! I knew I should have taken that down.” 

“Don’t you dare.” 

Riddle sighed, accepting defeat. “Fine, yes, just don’t bring it up at dinner.” 

“If you don’t mind me saying, it doesn't seem like there’s a lot of wiggle room for conversation here. What do you usually talk about when you come home?” 

Riddle took another sip of tea. “My studies, mostly. Class rankings, the local social season, applying for medical colleges, that sort of thing.” 

“What about your friends at NRC? Or all the weird and exciting stuff that happens? Like when we all went to the ghost realm at Halloween, or Fluer City at Halloween? Wow, a lot of crazy stuff happens around Halloween, huh?” 

“That’s all superfluous. My grades and plans for the internship fourth year are more important.” 

“Riddle.” (Y/N) reached across the table, taking Riddle’s hand. “That stuff is still important, you know. We’ve gone through a lot of crazy stuff, a lot of it dangerous and scary. It’s okay to talk about that. There’s life outside of classrooms.” 

Riddle looked away but squeezed her hand. “I know. And I’m getting there, with priorities and understanding others. But this sort of thing is important to her. And I still want to impress her, to have her be proud of me. Despite everything.” 

(Y/N) pressed her lips together. She wanted to say something supportive, something wise, something to make everything better. But nothing seemed right, nothing to encapsulate the pity and support (Y/N) felt all at once. In the movies or on TV, there was always some sort of all encompassing resolution, a final speech to make everything better. But she couldn’t find the words, couldn’t seem to express exactly how she felt. That Riddle didn’t need to constantly try so hard, to always make himself a perfect image for others to view. That he was allowed to like the things he liked, no matter how trivial or silly they seemed. Make bad frosted cupcakes, learn dressage, play games, be a teenager like everyone else for once. That she had such strong feelings for him, faults included. But nothing seems right. So she just squeezed his hand back. 

“Master Riddle,” A voice said, startling them both. Edgar stood at the door, casting a permanently judging look at the two of them. “Doctor and Mr. Rosehearts have returned. They have requested your presence in the dining room.” 

Riddle jumped up, smoothing his outfit even though it was spotless. “Right, well, (Y/N), I suppose it’s time you meet my parents.” 

Now that the time was actually here, (Y/N) didn’t expect to feel so nervous. Well, maybe nervous wasn’t the right word. Sure, she was anxious, hoping to make a good impression and help Riddle with their plot, but there was something else mixed with it. A kind of dread at coming face to face with a woman she had only ever heard bad things about. This woman, whether intentional or not, set the ground for Riddle’s Overblot. She was not an insignificant part of his emotional distress, his stress, the walls he put up around himself. How were you supposed to feel about a person like that? Especially when the object of that stress still so strongly wanted her approval? 

Edgar escorted them to the dining room where the table was already set and a maid and footman were starting to set out the first course. (Y/N) felt her heart jump unpleasantly in her chest as she came face to face with Dr. Rosehearts. The older woman’s steely gray eyes locked on to (Y/N)’s directly as she stepped in the room. She felt like her skin had been peeled back and every dark and unpleasant thought she had ever had had been thrown on the table for everyone to inspect. Dr. Rosehearts’ otherwise perfect cupid’s bow mouth was pulled into a tight frown. Her red hair, matching perfectly to her son’s, was pulled back in a tight bun clasped at her neck, a deadly looking sharp hairpin keeping it together. She looked elegant and flawless, more like an expensive bone China doll than an actual living breathing person in front of her. (Y/N) almost jumped in surprise when she finally noticed Riddle’s father. He was reading a newspaper, sharp cheekbones and tired, watery eyes under wavy mousy brown hair. Other than a brief flit of his eyes as the two of them entered, it was almost like he didn’t notice them at all. 

“Riddle,” His mother said, standing and turning to her son. (Y/N) felt like a stone had been removed from her chest as Dr. Rosehearts’ eyes finally left hers. “Welcome home. Take a seat.” 

Riddle marched over to his seat opposite his father, sitting with a ramrod straight back, looking straight ahead. (Y/N) faltered for a moment, wondering if she should sit next to Riddle or Mr. Rosehearts. The second of hesitation was noticed by Dr. Rosehearts, whose mouth ticked in annoyance. Riddle subtly nodded his head to the chair across from him, next to his father. (Y/N) scuttled over, pulling the chair out with an undignified squeak against the floor. Mr. Rosehearts looked up at her as she sat down, blinking like she had materialized out of thin air. 

“Mother, Father,” Riddle said, voice stiff. “Allow me to introduce my partner, (Y/N) (L/N), Ramshackle Dorm Prefect at Night Raven College. (Y/N), this is my mother, Dr. Victoria Rosehearts, and my father, Mr. Albert Rosehearts.”  

“Please to meet you,” (Y/N) said, giving what she hoped was a bright and welcoming smile. “Thank you for having me.” 

“Yes, well,” Dr. Rosehearts said. “I must admit it was a surprise when Riddle told me he was bringing a guest home for  the holiday.” 

“Well, Riddle always talks so fondly about Dinah and I haven’t traveled too much, so I couldn’t help but impose. You have a lovely home, by the way.” 

“I do wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, ignoring (Y/N)’s attempted start at conversation. “How a young girl such as yourself comes to attend an all boys school?” 

“To be totally honest I’m not really sure myself,” (Y/N) said, laughing through the awkwardness of Dr. Rosehearts intense direct gaze. “We’ve been trying to figure that out since I first got here. It’s been kind of a struggle getting a hang of everything, considering I can’t even use magic, but I-” 

(Y/N) was interrupted by the clatter of Dr. Rosehearts’ spoon clattering against her soup bowl. Even Mr. Rosehearts looked up, suddenly intrigued. “Did you say you can’t use magic?” Mr. Rosehearts said. 

(Y/N) gulped, looking quickly at Riddle who was going pale. “Well, no, I can’t. I’m sorry, I thought you knew. I’m not even from this world. Dimension? Anyway, magic doesn't exist in my world. Somehow one of the black carriages swept me up and brought me here. No one can figure out how or why yet, not even our Magic Mirror. Our headmage has been trying to research it but I guess there’s not a lot of studies on interdimensional travel.” She tried to laugh off the heavy atmosphere. “But no, no magic. Can’t even ride a broom, which is a shame because that’s the one thing I would really love to do.” 

Dr. Rosehearts cleared her throat, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin. A maid hastily rushed in to clear her soup. “Well, I suppose Night Raven College’s admission requirements have become quite lacks as of late, having common folk mingling with upper crust society and nobles, not to mention allowing fae folk. I suppose anything is possible at this rate.” 

(Y/N) scowled, finding herself blurting out her next statement despite Riddle’s miniscule shake of the head. “Hey, everyone works really hard at NRC. Where they’re from or their family doesn't matter, they’re all great mages. Besies, it’s the Magic Mirror that chooses people. It’s able to see everyone’s potential. And with everything that’s been going on this year everyone’s only gotten better. It’s amazing some of the stuff I’ve seen them do.” 

“Oh?” Mr. Rosehearts said, folding his paper closed and leaning forward. “Has it been an interesting year?” 

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I don’t know what a typical year at a magic school is like, but to me it’s been insane! There was one time where one of our dorm heads got kidnapped by a ghost bride to marry him, and everyone got together to try to woo her away. She ended up slapping half of them and freezing them in place. Oh, Riddle was here, he had this amazing red velvet suit. Or one of our magestones got stolen by a fairy queen and we had to stage a whole heist to get it back. Our coach, Coach Vargas, had these camps to test people’s abilities and survival instinct when they couldn’t use magic. But then he dressed up as a monster and ‘kidnapped’ a bunch of students so everyone else had to come rescue them. The next camping trip he got one of our other professors in on it too. And every once and a while we’ll have this Culinary Crucible that they had to change the judging for because everyone kept cheating, but-” 

“My!” Dr. Rosehearts suddenly exclaimed. “I don’t believe I remember the last time we had so much chatter at a mealtime.” 

(Y/N) felt her face heat up, but she wasn’t sure if it was from embarrassment or anger. 

Mr. Rosehearts, who had been nodding along to (Y/N) recollection of events with rapt attention, cleared his throat with a cough, leaning back in his chair and taking up his newspaper again. “Yes, well, youth these days,” He said, noncommittal. 

Despite the fact that a maid had just brought out the next course, Dr. Rosehearts stood. “I find I’ve lost my appetite,” She announced. “I will be retiring early tonight. Riddle, we have an appointment at the Lorina Hotel tomorrow for high tea. Make sure you and your guest wear something presentable.” With that, she swept from the room without another word. The silence that followed was brittle, like ice on a lake right before someone plummets through it. 

“Well,” (Y/N) said, breaking the quiet. She stood, walking over to Dr. Rosehearts abandoned plate and picking it up, dumping the roasted chicken and vegetable onto her own plate. “More for me then.” 

~~~

Later that night, (Y/N) had apologized to Riddle no less than twelve times. She tried to defend herself, that she was taken by surprise that his parents didn’t know about her unique circumstances, that she was annoyed how dismissive Dr. Rosehearts had been, that she just started talking and couldn’t figure out how to stop. Not that any of it really excused her behavior, she knew. She felt like she had let Riddle down, ruining whatever chance, no matter how slim, of this being a peaceful visit home. And, while Riddle had repeated every time that it was fine, that she was okay, that he should have prepared her better, she still felt bad. 

(Y/N) had never been to a high tea before. She wasn’t 100% sure what to wear, especially with Dr. Rosehearts’ comment from the night before. And it wasn’t like she had an extensive wardrobe to choose from in the first place. Thankfully, their alchemy teacher with a penchant for fashion design had somehow grown fond of her during the school year, providing her with a few outfits to help her fit in better outside of school.  The next morning, she pulled a dusty blue sundress with little white buttons out of her luggage. She had a pair of sandals more suited to the beach than a hotel, but they fit the theme better than her school loafers. She slipped them on and hoped no one would look down. 

Tea was scheduled for 11 so (Y/N) decided to find Riddle and try to get a better lay of the land before they headed out. He didn’t answer her knock, which she thought was strange as Riddle wasn’t the type to sleep in, even if he was home on break. She felt strange wandering through the house. Every once and a while she would see a maid or footman dart out of one of the hidden servant’s doors, but before she could start a conversation or ask where her hosts were they would duck their heads and disappear. 

She eventually found Mr. Rosehearts in the breakfast room, which was the same as the dinning room but with a changed name for some reason. The thick curtains had been thrown open letting light pour in across the spread on the table. Despite the fact that there was enough food to feed at least ten people, Mr. Rosehearts was the only one present, absentmindedly nibbling on some jam slathered toast. 

(Y/N) forced a smile to her face. She might have ruined her first impression with Dr. Rosehearts last night, but Mr. Rosehearts had at least seemed intrigued by what she had to say. “Good morning!” 

Mr. Rosehearts jumped, dropping his toast jam side down on the spotless table cloth. “Oh! Good morning.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” The last thing she needed right now was to turn both of Riddle’s parents against her. 

Mr. Rosehearts waved her off, gingerly picking up the toast and plopping it on his plate. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just not used to company in the morning, is all. Not that I mind it. Please, sit.” 

“Is everyone else still asleep?” (Y/N) asked, scooping up some chive studded scrambled eggs on her plate. 

“Oh, no, Victoria doesn't believe in sleeping in. It disrupts the normal circadian rhythms, you know, especially for teenagers like you and Riddle. No, she and Riddle were speaking in her office.” 

“Oh.” (Y/N) suddenly didn’t feel very hungry anymore. “I think I need to apologize.” Mr. Rosehearts looked up, blinking owlishly. “I was rambling last night, at dinner. I shouldn’t have been so argumentative, especially since I’m a guest in your home. I’ll be putting a better foot forward from now on, promise.” 

“Oh. Oh! Oh, no, please, think nothing of it. Actually,” He leaned forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I was hoping you could expand on some of those stories you started last night. Just between you and me, I happen to have a penchant for gossip.” He patted the newspaper beside him. Now that (Y/N) got a closer look, she realized it was a society gossip column. She smiled, getting Bridgerton flashbacks. 

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of stories. Do you want to start with Fleur City almost burning down or Magicam Monsters taking over NRC?” 

Meanwhile, Riddle sat in an uncomfortable straight backed chair in his mother’s office. Various papers floated around the room, magically organizing themselves in various case files. A free-standing pen signed Dr. Rosehearts’ signature across multiple forms. Despite the warm morning light filling the room, Riddle felt chilled. 

“I wonder,” Dr. Rosehearts said, sitting behind her large mahogany desk, hands clasped in front of her. “About the company you have chosen to keep while away at school.” 

“(Y/N) is a respectable person,” Riddle said. “She was just thrown off last night. She’s still not used to many of our customs. She’s a fast learner, however, she’s acclimated remarkably quickly to life here. Given that she has no base of knowledge for many of the classes at Night Raven College she has good grades and-” 

Dr. Rosehearts held up a hand, stopping Riddle with the words of praise in his throat. “The way the ones you associate with act reflects on you, Riddle. It also reflects upon me and the whole Rosehearts household. You should know better by now.” 

Riddle felt his face flush, looking down. “Yes, Mother.” 

“Really, Riddle, I didn’t think you’d be the type to fall for any pretty face. And how much do you actually know about her background, anyway? You said yourself she’s not from here. Who knows what kind of manipulation she might be playing at, using our good name against us?” Riddle bit his tongue, your defense springing into his mouth. “I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

“Yes, Mother, I know.” 

“Wonderful.” Dr. Rosehearts stood, Riddle following. “We’ll continue to house Miss (Y/N) here during the break, it would be bad form to throw her out at this point, but as soon as you return to school I expect you to end this frivolous excursion.” 

Riddle felt his heart drop into his stomach. “But, Mother, I-” 

“No buts, Riddle,” She said sternly. Riddle immediately looked down, avoiding her cold iron gaze. “I know best for you. You’ll do as I say. We have a plan for you, remember? There’s no use upending your future over some fleeting fancy. And besides, there are many wonderful eligible ladies here in town. We’ll be meeting a few of my top choices for you at the hotel. And we’ll be attending a ball tomorrow night.  Your friend is not invited, by the way.” 

Riddle drew in a sharp breath, a million things he wanted to say racing through his mind. His mother had arranged a meeting with bachelorettes when he had told her he already had a girlfriend? He realized with a sinking sensation that no plan he and (Y/N) would have come up with would have been good enough for his mother. She had her plan and nothing would be able to change it. He suddenly had the sensation of floating, no, falling, with no anchor or safety net. His stomach flipped and a rush of cold descended over his body. 

“Yes, Mother,” He only said. 

Dr. Rosehearts nodded definitively. She swept from the office, Riddle following close behind with downcast eyes. They both paused on the stairway, startled by the sound of laughter floating out from the breakfast room. Riddle pushed past his mother into the room. (Y/N) and his father sat at the table across from each other. His father’s head was thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open in a raucous laugh. Riddle couldn’t remember the last time he heard his father laugh like that, or even laugh at all. (Y/N) was in the middle of a story, hands animated. 

“So of course the referee asked who he is, because their team didn’t have anyone signed up for an alternate, and Leona goes and uses my name! Like no one would recognize the second prince of the Sunset Savannah. And you know what, no one did!” 

Mr. Rosehearts put his hand against his chest, trying to regain his composure. “And then? Did you at least win?” 

“Oh, of course, yeah! And then we all had to run away in this jeep Leona was driving right when it started to rain. I’ve heard Checka still calls him ‘Unca (Y/N)’ sometimes.” 

Mr. Rosehearts looked up, noticing Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts standing in the doorway. “Oh, Victoria! (Y/N) was just telling me the most wonderful story. Did you know she’s friends with Prince Leona of the Sunset Savannah? And the Asim heir, they donated at the last charity gala you attended, didn’t they? It’s amazing the adventures children can get up to now a days-” 

“You’re very chatty this morning, Albert,” Dr. Rosehearts cut him off. “This much noise in the morning is quite unusual, don’t you agree?” 

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped and he squirmed in his chair. He picked up his newspaper, flipping it so a person couldn’t see what he was reading. 

(Y/N) frowned at the sudden change of mood, but gave Riddle a warm smile when she saw him. It was amazing how he almost immediately felt lighter. He really hoped he wasn’t blushing again. “Hi!” She chirped, standing. Riddle felt a rush of mixed emotions. Part fluff at (Y/N) smiling at him, beautiful in her sundress, part embarrassment knowing it was exactly the wrong thing to wear, and no doubt his mother had clocked that immediately. 

Riddle reached for a cheese danish. His mother’s hand snapped out, swatting his hand away. “You’ll have sweets at the hotel,” She said, sniffing. “You don’t need the extra sugar, especially this early in the morning.” 

‘Then why have it on the table?’ (Y/N) thought uncharitably. She went over to Riddle, linking her arm through his, pulling him away from Dr. Rosehearts. “You’re sweet enough already, Riddle. When do we head out?” 

Later, as they were waiting for the carriages to head to the hotel, Riddle pulled out and quickly ate the danish (Y/N) had slipped in his pocket. 

~~~

The Lorina Hotel stretched high above their heads. (Y/N) leaned back to take in the full scope of it. The facade was clean white bricks with dozens of windows glinting in the sunlight. Each story was capped by marble carvings of lions with wings, jumping fish, and flowers. 

“No time for gawking,” Dr. Rosehearts said, straightening her gloves. “We have people waiting for us.” 

“We do?” (Y/N) asked, purposefully ignoring Dr. Rosehearts thorny glare. “Are they your friends, Riddle?” 

“Not in so many words,” He replied. 

A finely dressed doorman opened the door to a lavish lobby. Before (Y/N) had a chance to ‘gawk’ again, Dr. Rosehearts swept them off to a side room. She gave their name to a waiter at a podium. The man skimmed the list of reservations in front of him, looking down his nose at (Y/N) and her uncovered shoulders. While (Y/N) was too enamored observing her surroundings, Riddle noticed. He quickly shrugged off his jacket and brought it around her shoulders. The man sniffed. He led them through the tea room to two tables situated against a large window. They sat by a large window opening onto a courtyard in the middle of the hotel. Guests strolled across the green lawn, admiring flowers. Dr. and Mr. Rosehearts sat at their own small table while Riddle and (Y/N) were directed to one that had three other residents already. 

“Riddle!” One of them called, smiling up at him. “How lovely to see you again.” 

(Y/N) felt Riddle stiffen beside her. “Hello, Lily, Rose, Violet. It’s nice to see you all as well.” 

(Y/N) slipped her hand into Riddle’s, who jumped in surprise, before inserting herself in the girls’ line of sight. “Hi! I’m (Y/N), Riddle’s girlfriend. It’s nice to meet some of his friends from home!” 

All three girls, in Victorian inspired puffed up dresses with more lace and tulle than (Y/N) had ever seen before and large elaborate sun hats to match, startled, blinking at her as if she had appeared out of thin air. 

Almost in sync, the three of them whipped out decorated fans. “Oh, hello,” Violet said. “We weren’t aware Riddle was bringing a guest.” 

“You’ll just have to put up with me then, I guess.” Riddle pulled out her chair and, with a surge of confidence and a sideways glance at the three girls, (Y/N) quickly kissed his cheek. (Y/N) smiled at the shocked gasp they let out as Riddle’s face turned red. She couldn’t help but reveal in Dr. Rosehearts’ glower as Mr. Rosehearts discreetly smiled into his tea. “So, how close is this to the unbirthday parties at school?” 

“An unbirthday party?” Lily said with a chuckle. “Isn’t that a bit juvenile?” 

“If by juvenile you mean really fun and a great excuse to dress up then yes, I suppose it is.” Under the table, Riddle squeezed (Y/N)’s hand, in warning or thankfulness she wasn’t sure. The three girls looked at eachother, flicking and fluttering their fans with precise motions. 

A waiter brought a pot of tea to the table which he dutifully poured in everyone’s delicate tea cups. Another waiter brought a high stacked tower with tiny cakes and sandwiches. (Y/N) tried to cut down on her abrasiveness for the rest of the tea, not wanting to make Riddle uncomfortable. Although, to her it seemed the three other girls were doing a great job of that on their own. When they weren’t speaking to each other about him without his input, they chatted about things that had been happening in Dinah during the social season, then acted surprised when neither (Y/N) or Riddle could contribute to the conversation. 

After a while, and two pots of tea, Riddle excused himself. A tense silence dropped over the table like a heavy curtain. The three girls continued casting knowing glances at each other, snapping and waving their fans. 

(Y/N) spread her hands on the table. “Look, I know just enough about fan language to know you’re talking about me, but not enough to know what you’re saying. So if you have something you want to say you might as well come out and say it.” 

“You’re rather blunt, aren’t you?” Rose said with a sniff. 

“Among many other things.” 

“We were just wondering,” Violet said smoothly. “About your pedigree. It’s unusual enough to have a girl attending an all boys school, so we surmised you must have a particular magical talent.” 

“We all attend Lady Dormouse’s Finishing School, you see,” Lily said with a saccharine smile. “It’s a far more… elegant education.” 

“Well, I don’t know about elegant,” (Y/N) said, pointedly ignoring Rose’s smirk when she said under her breath, “Clearly.” “But Night Raven College is a great place. Sure, it’s a minefield half the time and considering I can’t do any magic so half of the assignments are almost impossible, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’ve made amazing friends there, and, of course, I got to meet Riddle. That’s the best part.” (Y/N) smiled wistfully. 

The girls across from her all dropped their jaws at once. “You can’t use magic?” Violet gasped. 

“Surely you know a simple zephyr spell? Or can light a candle?” Lily asked. 

“Nope, not a thing. Don’t have one drop of magic in my whole body.” At this point it almost felt like a mark of pride. And she was beginning to relish the shocked expressions people made. 

Violet reached forward and gently touched the back of (Y/N)’s hand. “You poor thing,” She said, voice breaking. Rose had pushed herself as far back in her chair as she could, as if magiclessness was contagious. (Y/N) could practically see the gears turning in Lily’s head as she considered such a thing being possible. 

(Y/N) looked out the window to the courtyard, trying to avoid Violet’s overly sympathetic gaze. She perked up when she saw a few uniformed staff members setting up small white arches in the grass. A flock of pink flamingos waddled on tall, thin legs around the fountain. One of the staff members gently cradled a small wooden box where a hedgehog poked its nose out. 

“Hey, Riddle!” She called as Riddle walked back to their table. “Check it out, they’re setting up croquet! We should see if we can play.” 

Riddle’s face lit up. “Really?” He asked, craning his neck to look out the window as the first round of players took their marks. He quickly looked back at his mother and schooled his face to a more serious expression. “That is, I mean, I wouldn’t want to impose.” 

“Oh, I’d love a good game of croquet!” Rose said, clapping her hands. She stood, going over to Riddle and touching his shoulder in a way that made (Y/N) grit her teeth in annoyance. “I was the undisputed champion at Dormouse. You will play with us, won’t you, Riddle?” 

The group exited to the courtyard, Mr. Rosehearts quickly arranging for a game with the attendants. The girls had huddled around the green, watching the previous game. Riddle was looking down at his feet, fiddling with his fingers, pulling at the skin around his nails. 

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slinging her arm around Riddle’s shoulders. “I am here to make sure you have fun, fake relationship or not. So come on, let’s have fun! Plus, I have no idea how to play this game.” 

“Well,” Riddle said. “The first thing is to choose your flamingo mallet.” He effortlessly snatched a flamingo by the neck, turning it so he held the legs. The flamingo immediately went ramrod straight. 

“That doesn't bother them or anything, right?” (Y/N) asked, looking dubiously at the remaining flamingos. 

“Not at all. They’re specifically trained for this. Go on, try one.” 

“Okay…” (Y/N) tried to replicate the quick movements Riddle had made when grabbing his flamingo. The bird she was aiming for dodged her hand. She grabbed again. Another miss. She heard the girls tittering with laughter. (Y/N) huffed, trying to snatch at the flamingo with both hands this time. The large bird squealed, flapping its large wings as (Y/N) wrestled it. The flamingo squawked and (Y/N) squawked back in defiance. Riddle quickly came to her rescue, grabbing the flamingo and performing the same practiced motion. The flamingo immediately went rigged, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice the defiant glint in its eye. 

“Thanks,” (Y/N) mumbled, plucking stray feathers out of her hair. 

Riddle stifled a laugh behind his fist. “Not a problem. The rest of the game is pretty simple. You want to hit the hedgehog through the white pickets to the end of the lawn, then again on the way back. The fewest hits win.” 

“Right, sure. Sounds easy enough.” When Riddle went to take his first hit, (Y/N) whispered harshly to her flamingo mallet, “Don’t mess this up for me.” 

After the others had taken their turn, (Y/N) stepped up to the first hoop, her hedgehog rolled into a ball in front of her. She carefully angled her flamingo down, tapping the head against the small animal. ‘Just like mini-golf,’ She thought to herself and swung gently. She heard giggling from the spectators. She looked down, seeing her hedgehog in the exact same place. Only, no, it was about an inch to the left, away from where she had hit. She tapped her foot, swinging again, this time keeping her eye on the spiky ball. Yup, there, again, it rolled ever so slightly the other way. 

“My ball is cheating,” (Y/N) said, pointing at the innocent-looking hedgehog. 

“It’s a poor craftsman who blames their tools,” Dr. Rosehearts replied from the sidelines. 

“I don’t think that applies here, but sure,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

She squared her feet, tightening her grip on the flamingo’s legs. She tried a harder swing this time. It connected, sending the tiny hedgehog tumbling. Before (Y/N) could celebrate her victory, the animal swung out in a large arc away from the pickets, slowing to a stop right by Dr. Rosehearts’ feet. (Y/N) scowled, going over to stand by Riddle’s parents while the rest of the group took their turns for the second round. 

“You know,” Dr. Rosehearts said softly to (Y/N) when Mr. Rosehearts walked off to get some tea. “Lily’s father is a minister in parliament. She’s an especially accomplished pianist and frequently has requests from the royal theater company to play.” 

“MmHmm,” (Y/N) hummed. 

“Violet recently won first place in a national equestrian show jumping competition. Her father is a colleague of mine, an orthopedic surgeon, and her mother is a most accomplished florist.” 

“Neat.” 

“Rose is an absolute gem, of course. Extremely high marks with practical magic, and her embroidery has been displayed as far as the Sunshine Lands. She’s also wonderfully organized and an exemplary hostess. I can see her managing a fine house one day.” 

“Maybe, but Rose Rosehearts is kind of clunky, don’t you think? Or redundant? One of those.” 

Dr. Roshearts sniffed. “She also has a firm grasp on language and elegance.” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to say something she knew she would probably regret when the referee called for her turn. Dr. Rosehearts inclined her head and took a step back, giving (Y/N) room to swing. 

“Alright,” (Y/N) said softly to the ball and mallet. “The arch this time.” 

She aimed, taking in a deep breath as she swung. She looked around the green, not seeing her hedgehog rolling towards or away. It also wasn’t stuck in its place at her feet. Suddenly, the flamingo began to writhe in her hands, flapping its large wings to bat fiercely at her face. She coughed on feathers, trying to hold the distressed animal as far away as possible. Peaking out from one eye, she saw the hedgehog clinging to the flamingo’s neck, climbing up and down while the bird desperately tried to escape its tiny claws. (Y/N) shook the bird, reaching out to try and dislodge the hedgehog. That only seemed to make it worse as both animals began to panic. The flamingo kicked out causing (Y/N) to drop it. With an unholy squawk, it leapt out of her hands, flapping and dancing, colliding right into the gawking Dr. Rosehearts. The red-haired woman shrieked, several hotel attendants coming to her rescue, trying to grab the flamingo. (Y/N) couldn't help but notice Mr.  Rosehearts watching the whole spectacle with fascination from the tea cart. 

As the attendants apologized profusely to a fuming Dr. Rosehearts, (Y/N) made her way over to Riddle and the three gasping girls. “Well,” She said. “I don’t think I’m very good at this game.” 

~~~

When they got back to the townhouse, (Y/N) had another round of apologizing to Riddle. 

“I really didn’t mean for that to happen,” She said. She didn’t say she felt somewhat satisfied to see Dr. Rosehearts in distress, plucking stray feathers out of her hair and clothes the whole ride home. “I don’t know what I was doing wrong. I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much.” 

“I know it’s not your fault,” Riddle said, pulling off his tie. (Y/N) was sitting on the bed in his room as he watched her in the mirror on his bureau. “The hotel should have vetted their animals better.” 

(Y/N) bit her lip. She gave a mirthless laugh. “Our plan isn't going very well, is it?” Riddle faltered, dropping his tie. He turned around to look at (Y/N). Her mouth was screwed up in a tight frown, her eyes misty, and she clutched the duvet tightly. “Sorry. I really wanted to make you look good. I wanted to try and seem like the perfect girlfriend, but I just kind of made everything worse. I wanted to show you that I-” She suddenly cut herself off, looking up and meeting Riddle’s eyes. Her face grew hot and she looked away. “Sorry, don’t listen to me, I’m rambling.” 

More than anything, Riddle wanted to ask her what she was going to say. More than anything, he wanted to say something back, something that had been stuck in his mind well before he asked for her help in their plot. Something that made his heart speed up with her every kind word and action, that made him feel pleasantly light-headed whenever they were close, that caused his chest to fill with pride as she worked tirelessly to defend him during the trip. But his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He could still feel the iron-hot glare from his mother on the carriage ride back from the hotel. And, beneath it all, a simmering fear that their ploy was really just a ploy, that (Y/N) was just an exceptionally good actor, that there was no way she could feel the same way about him that he was realizing he felt about her. 

He tapped his foot, coming over to sit next to (Y/N) on his bed. “There’s a ball tomorrow night,” He said, not looking at her. “Mother, Father, and I are invited. Mother… asked if you would be alright remaining at home.” 

“Oh,” She said, and Riddle tried not to flinch back at her tone of voice. “No, yeah, I get it. Hey, I don’t even have anything to wear. So, yeah, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not,” Riddle said, his harshness even startling himself. He cleared his throat, starting again. “It’s unfair to you. I shouldn’t have dragged you all the way out here. This whole thing was a bad idea to begin with.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) said again, another fractured syllable. She stood. “Well, yeah, fine. I guess the idea of us being together is a bad idea.” 

Riddle felt a jolt in his chest. “No, wait, (Y/N), that’s not what I-” 

“No, I get it. Why would someone like you want to be with someone like me in the first place? You’ve got a plan all figured out, right? NRC then internships then becoming a world famous doctor. And what do I have to offer you? I can’t do magic, I don’t have any family, I definitely don’t have any money, I have no idea what I’m even going to do over the summer break. And it’s not like I fit in with your world, anyway. Not just Twisted Wonderland, but the whole life you want for yourself. It’s fine, I get it.” She stood, pacing, hot and angry tears pricking her eyes. She took a deep, rattling breath to steady herself before turning to Riddle face to face. “I won’t get in your way anymore. But I do want to say that you deserve better than how you’ve been treated. You’re not your mother. You deserve someone who sees how amazing you are by yourself, not some mold other people try to put you in. You’ve worked so hard these past few months to be a better person and I- I just hope you find someone who recognizes that.” Without another word, (Y/N) rushed out of the room. She nearly collided with Dr. Rosehearts in the hall before muttering an “excuse me” before throwing herself in her room, locking the door. 

Dr. Rosehearts lifted her chin, walking the few steps forward to Riddle’s room. She didn’t bother knocking and just stepped inside. Riddle was sitting on the edge of his bed, face buried in his hands. 

“I’m glad you’ve come to see reason, Riddle,” She vaguely praised. Riddle looked up at her with red rimmed eyes, checks flushed. “We’ll leave for your suit fitting in the morning. Don’t be late.” 

“Yes, Mother,” Riddle mumbled. The sound of his door clicking shut ricocheted around his ears. 

~~~

“I messed up,” (Y/N) said. “I really messed this whole thing up.” 

It was the next day. She’d barely slept the night before, not bothering to go down to dinner last night or breakfast this morning. Eventually, she heard the front door open and close, watching Riddle and Dr. Rosehearts board a carriage to go out. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, and called Cater. 

“I mean,” He said. “It’s not the best, that’s for sure.” 

(Y/N) had called Cater after a moment of desperation, eager for someone to talk to and express her frustrations. She trusted Cater enough to know he wouldn’t immediately run off and tell everyone about the plan and would be patient enough to listen to her vent. He had also lent a sympathetic ear in the past when she had gotten overwhelmed by the strangeness of her new world and missing her old one. She could practically see him twist a lock of hair around his finger as he talked to her. “But it’s not all your fault. Riddle could have stepped in to help, you know.” 

“He’s just… under a lot of pressure here,” She said. “I guess I had this idea in my head of what it would be like. But, man, do I hate his mom.” 

“We all do, sweetheart.” 

“I feel like I kind of abandoned him, though. But he basically disinvited me from my last night here so how am I supposed to feel?” 

“Hmm. Do you know where the party is supposed to be tonight?” 

“At Rose’s place, bleh.” 

“Well, you could always crash it.” 

(Y/N) sat up. “Crash? I can’t do that, I’ve embarrassed him enough already.” 

Cater huffed in frustration. “Honestly, you’re both so blind I don’t know how you stand it.” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry, I thought you said the reason you went there in the first place was to help Riddle.” 

“I did - I am - but-” 

“And what? You’re just going to let one bad game of croquet take that from you?” 

“It wasn’t just that game, I-” 

“And we both know Riddle’s blind spots. Sure, he’s been better about all that rule stuff and chilling out here at school, but being back in the middle of all his trauma is different, you know?” 

“I - You know what? You’re right.” 

“Of course I’m right, I usually am.” 

“Riddle acts like he’s in charge all the time, I forget that we’re practically the same age. And everyone needs help, even when they’re too stubborn to admit it.” 

“Yes, exactly! Stubborn is practically Riddle’s middle name!” 

“Which means,” (Y/N) stood. “I’ve got to be stubborn back! If Riddle can’t ask for help then I need to be a good girlfriend and recognize he needs it and do my part!” 

(Y/N) could feel Cater’s smirk in his next words. “Ooh, his girlfriend, huh? I thought you were just pretending?” 

“Oh, you know what I mean. Thanks, Cater. I’ve got to go get ready. I have a party to crash!” 

“I’m going to need every detail when you get back!” 

(Y/N) quickly hung up, dialing another number. “Hi, Vil? It’s (Y/N). I have a really big favor to ask.” 

~~~

Riddle stared into his flute of sparkling wine, watching the few remaining bubbles rise and pop. It was flat by now and he hadn’t taken a single sip. The last rays of sunlight glowed gently against the surrounding townhouses that Riddle could see out the large bay windows of the ballroom. Couples twirled together along the floor to the elegant music from a string band. A long table was precisely set with way too much food, even given the substantial size of the party. His father mingled across the room with several other gentlemen from his club, doing his best to blend into the curtains. Riddle stood dutifully next to his mother who was speaking to Rose’s mother. Rose herself hovered next to him. He floated in and out of their conversation, only picking up about every fourth word. He wore a dark red velvet coat with a tight white starched collar that he kept tugging at to keep from strangling him. 

“And then,” Rose was saying. “Betty walks in with a yellow checkered parasol! Can you imagine? For an autumn leaf viewing picnic? Honestly, I’m surprised she had the nerve to stay around for as long as she did with that sort of faux pa.” 

“MmHm,” Riddle replied, swirling his glass causing a few errant bubbles to meander to the surface. 

“Really, the only thing that might have been more embarrassing is if she brought a chestnut tart! Oh, are you alright, Riddle?” 

Riddle coughed, clearing his throat as his face turned red. “Yes, fine, just remembering something unpleasant.” 

“Well, I’m not sure how you could think of anything unpleasant with me around,” She said, clutching his arm to pull him closer to her, batting her eyes. Her eyelashes were so long Riddle had a single terrifying impression of spider legs. 

Riddle cleared his throat again, more uncomfortable this time. “Yes, I can’t imagine.” 

Rose pouted and opened her mouth to say something else only to be interrupted by the round of gasps and murmurs that swelled from around the room. At the top of the grand staircase leading down to the ballroom, a footman was taking a dark traveling cloak from a newcomer. The cloak fell away to reveal the elaborate dress underneath it. The bodice was a rich crimson red with puffed sleeves at the shoulders, leading down to illusion sheer sleeves with tiny intricate beading twinkling down to the tight clasps at the wrists. The skirt bloomed out from the waist, layers upon layers of fabric resembling a large upside down rose. The red from the top continued down the skirt in an almost dripping effect, the rose petals turning white at the bottom as if they were being painted. The rose parted just at the knees to allow the wearer more freedom of movement, revealing sheer stockings with the same bead work. 

Riddle shoved his glass into Rose’s hands, ignoring her shocked look. He strode forward, cutting through the crowd. As the new figure descended the stairs, he met her, extending his hand to take hers. 

“Hi,” (Y/N) said, smiling gently at him. “I’m not too late, am I?” 

“No,” Riddle breathed. “You’re here just in time.” 

“Excuse me!” They both turned to see Rose and her mother coming over, frustration on Rose’s face and confusion on her mother’s. 

“I’m sorry,” Rose’s mother said, eyes darting to (Y/N)’s and Riddle’s held hand. “This is a closed party.” 

“She’s with me,” Riddle quickly said. He saw his mother furrow her brow and press her lips together. He continued, meeting her gaze. “This is (Y/N), my girlfriend. She’s my guest.” 

There was another small round of exclamations around the room. Rose crossed her arms while her mother blinked in confusion. “Oh, well, then please, by all means, welcome.” 

(Y/N) bobbed a curtsy, “Thank you.” 

“Would you like to dance?” Riddle asked. 

(Y/N) smiled and Riddle felt like his heart would explode. “I’d love to.” He led her to the dance floor. The band, which had paused at her entrance, started up again with a waltz.“I should warn you,” (Y/N) whispered to him as they took their place. “I have no idea how to do any of this.” 

“That’s alright. Just follow my lead.” 

“Riddle, I’d follow you through the Land of Ghosts and back if you asked me to.” Riddle tripped over his own feet, (Y/N) catching him in a spin and laughing. 

“I like your dress,” Riddle said, trying to regain his composure. “I didn’t see it before.” 

“Thanks, it’s a loner. I have friends in high places. Vil, I mean Vil.” 

Spectators watched the couple in a not at all elegant dance across the floor. “Oh, Victoria,” Another socialite's mother said, coming up to her. “You must be so proud. She seems like such a lovely girl. And Riddle looks so happy!” 

“Indeed,” Dr. Rosehearts replied with a steely stare at the couple. She noticed the flush on Riddle’s cheeks, his eyes closed as he laughed at something (Y/N) had said. (Y/N) took a wrong step back, bumping into another couple dancing behind them. She watched them apologize, (Y/N) saying something to the other couple that made them laugh and wave a pleasant goodbye. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth, nose screwing up in frustration. 

The song ended and Riddle and (Y/N) exited the dance floor. They’re faces were both flushed, glowing underneath the chandelier lights. (Y/N) felt her heart flutter pleasantly as she watched Riddle, a rare genuine smile across his face, eyes crinkling at the corners. She could always tell when it was a sincere smile whenever a tiny crease appeared between his eyebrows leaning to his left eye. She wondered what it meant that she had studied his face so intently to notice that. 

Dr. Rosehearts interrupted the conversations happening around her by walking away, striding with her head held high to Riddle and (Y/N). (Y/N) noticed her first, taking a side step closer to Riddle and meeting the older woman’s stare with unabashed defiance. Dr. Rosehearts ground her teeth again. 

“Riddle,” Dr. Rosehearts said. Riddle jumped, just now noticing his mother’s presence. His body immediately stiffened, shoulders going back to make a conscious effort to stand straighter. “Lewis and Carol were looking for you.” She waved her hand over to the other side of the ballroom. “I thought I might have a chat with (Y/N).” 

Riddle started to stutter a response before (Y/N) laid a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” She said. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you later.” Riddle looked between the two women, eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, before nodding hesitantly and going over to see his old middle school classmates. 

(Y/N) plucked a glass of cider from a passing waiter. She wondered briefly what the drinking laws were here. 

“Well,” Dr. Rosehearts said, clasping her hands in front of her. “You certainly know how to make an entrance to an event you weren’t invited to.” 

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” (Y/N) said, swirling her glass. “I’m Riddle’s plus one. He wanted me here.” 

“Yes, I suppose it is very kind of him to humor you.” 

“Well, someone in your family needs to have a sense of humor, right?” 

“Hmph. Riddle has a plan, you know. He can’t be distracted by frivolities.” 

“You have a plan, you mean. Riddle can do whatever he wants. He’s exceedingly capable, smart, and an amazing mage.” 

“Thanks to my careful tutelage.” 

“Despite your ‘careful tutelage’ I’d say.” 

Dr. Rosehearts eyes flared. “You know nothing about my relationship with my son. My son.” 

“Oh, I know plenty.” 

“And I know my son. Believe me, your relationship, or whatever you want to call this, is just some passing fancy. He’ll get over it soon and come back to me with his senses intact.” 

“At least my relationship with him didn’t lead to his Overblot.” 

There was a snapping sound, a shatter of glass, and a gasp from across the ballroom. Riddle whirled around. His mother stood over (Y/N), her hand raised. (Y/N) clutched her cheek, already turning red from Dr. Rosehearts’ slap. 

“How dare you?” She shouted, now drawing every eye around the room. “My Riddle was perfectly fine until the moment you showed up at that school. He was obedient until you started influencing him!” 

“And that’s all that matters, right? That he is obedient to you. That he does whatever you say. He’s not your doll for you to play with, he’s a living breathing amazing person you just refuse to recognize has his own thoughts and life outside of you!” 

“I won’t take criticism from some magicless interloper who cavorts with fae and meddles with every aspect of a world she doesn't understand!” 

“Well, that’s just the beginning of your issues, isn’t it? You’re so stuck in your own head you refuse to recognize when you’re in the wrong and actively hurting the people around you!” 

Dr. Rosehearts took in a sharp inhale, raising her hand again. 

“Mother!” Both women turned to see Riddle rushing over to them. 

(Y/N) immediately blanched. “Riddle, I’m sorry, I-” 

“Riddle!” Dr. Rosehearts cut her off, jabbing a finger at (Y/N). “Control this wretched girl!” 

“I will do no such thing,” Riddle said defiantly, putting himself between his mother and (Y/N). He turned to her, lowering his voice. “Are you alright?” 

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” 

He gave a decisive nod and turned back to Dr. Rosehearts. “Mother, you need to apologize.” 

Dr. Rosehearts gaped at him. “Me? Apologize to her?” 

“You’ve been nothing but hateful since (Y/N)’s arrived. She’s our guest and someone extremely important to me. You could at least have the common courtesy to be polite.” 

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was cherry red. “How dare you speak to me like this! I’m your mother!” 

“And nothing she said was untrue!” Dr. Rosehearts flinched back. “All my life, all I’ve wanted was to please you, to make you proud of me. I worked so, so hard. It crushed me, it destroyed me, that I couldn’t meet your impossible expectations! And I just thought that was how the world was, set in rigid rules, and anyone who couldn’t follow every last one was a bad person. I ruined friendships, I ruined myself, I almost ruined everything when I Overblot!” Another round of gasps rang from around the room. (Y/N) slipped her hand into his, squeezing in reassurance. He squeezed back, soldiering on. “I’m not a son to you, I’m a project! I’m some doll you parade around and pose however you want without any actual care for the damage you might do! (Y/N) has shown me I can be a better person, that I can be who I actually want to be! Except I have no idea who that person is because you’ve broken me into your specific mold for so long. She’s stayed by me, my friends have stayed by me, no matter what. For the first time in my life I feel content with myself, like I can actually breathe. And you act like that’s a bad thing.” Riddle was breathing hard, hot tears starting to spill from eyes. “Well, I’m done. I’m done trying to please you. I’ll never be good enough for you. And that’s fine. I don’t want to be. Now I just want to be good enough for myself. Let’s go, (Y/N).” Still holding hands, the two swept from the ballroom, the party goers parting for them like the Red Sea. 

Dr. Rosehearts’ face was red with rage, eyes darting around the room from each pitying, concerned, and judging face of the attendants to her son’s retreating back. She was breathing hard, head fuzzy, vision going blurry around the edges. Stepping forward, she slid her hairpin from her perfectly maintained bun, a magestone embedded at one end. She took a solid step forward, pointing it at Riddle. “Riddle-!” 

“Victoria!” She froze at the sudden exclamation. She turned, seeing Mr. Rosehearts staring steadfastly at her. “That’s enough.” 

She stopped, looking down at her hand, at her wand, at what she was about to do. She gasped, dropping the wand so it clattered against the marble flooring. The sound echoed in her ears. 

~~~

It was starting to rain outside. Riddle shrugged off his jacket, holding it above the two of them to huddle beneath it. 

“I don’t think we would be able to take the carriage back,” He said. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I want to go back to the townhouse anyway.” 

“No problem,” (Y/N) said, pulling her phone out of an invisible pocket. “Give me a second. Hi, Hornton? It’s (Y/N).” Minutes later, a private carriage from the Lorina Hotel was pulled alongside the cafe’s outside seating where Riddle and (Y/N) had taken up temporary shelter. “Friends in high places,” She said as they climbed inside. 

The two were quiet as the carriage rumbled on. They sat next to each other on the bench seats. Riddle leaned his head on (Y/N)’s shoulder as she rubbed circles in the back of his hand. They exited soon after at the hotel, a doorman holding an umbrella over their heads as they rushed inside. 

At the front desk, the concierge and manager were talking in animated whispers, jolting up to paste on bright smiles as the two approached the desk. “Hello!” The manager said, a little too enthusiastically. “Checking in under Draconia?” 

“Yup, that’s us,” (Y/N) said, holding Riddle close. “Two rooms, please.” 

“Ah, well, of course, you see,” The manager stuttered. (Y/N) suspected they didn’t often get calls from foreign royalty as it was throwing the poor man off this game. “Unfortunately, as I mentioned to his majesty on the phone, we only have one room left available.”

“Oh. Well, if it’s a double that will work fine, too.”

The manager cringed. “It’s a single bed, Miss.” 

“Ah.” (Y/N) said, head starting to spin. She tried to quickly problem solve in her head. Could she call Horton back and ask him to make reservations somewhere else? Or would that be rude? Just the thought of going back to the Rosehearts townhome made her skin crawl. 

“It’s fine,” Riddle said. “We’ll take it.” The manager looked relieved as he handed over the keys. “I’ll need to make a phone call as well, to have our things brought here in the morning. Do you have anything we could use for the night?” 

“Of course, sir! Please, take it with our compliments.” 

They handed over two sets of monogrammed gray pajamas. A bellhop led them to the elevator, pushing the button to their floor. 

“I guess you’re right,” Riddle said. “It does pay to have friends in high places.” 

For some reason, that comment, along with the building stress of the night, broke the tight bundle of nerves (Y/N) had lodged in her chest. She started giggling, not being able to stop or catch her breath. Riddle soon followed, both of them almost doubled over with impractical laughter. They continued to their room, a patron from next door sticking his head out at the noise. Their laughter died down when they came into the room, both setting eyes on the single bed at the center. 

“I’m going to take a shower,” (Y/N) said, pointing to the adjoining bathroom. Riddle just nodded, tearing is eyes from the bed and trying very hard to look anywhere else. 

In the bathroom, (Y/N) peeled off her dress, feeling kind of bad about haphazardly throwing it over the towel rack to hang. She turned the water on to almost scalding, letting it rush over her in an attempt to beat the chill that had settled in her bones, only partially from the rain. After her shower, she changed into the provided pajamas. They were warm and soft against her skin. She hesitated before exiting the bathroom. 

Riddle jumped when she came out, and she wondered if she should have knocked first. She saw he had pulled the duvet and one of the massive pillows off the bed, laying them out on the floor. “You can take the bed tonight,” He said. “I’ll sleep here.” Without waiting for her protest, Riddle went into the bathroom locking it behind him. She soon heard the sound of rushing water from the shower. 

‘Well, that’s not very fair,’ She thought. She drug off the remaining blanket from the bed and the other pillow, creating her own spot on the opposite side on the floor. Riddle was the one who just had his whole world tossed around. It was only fair if he got the bed for the night. A few minutes later, Riddle left the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He was rubbing his hair with a towel. He looked confused at (Y/N) on the floor on her side of the bed. 

“I’d say you can take the bed,” (Y/N) said. “But I know you’re too stubborn and chivalrous for that. So I’ll stay down here too. That way we’re even.” 

“You don’t need to do that for me,” Riddle said. 

“I want to.” 

Riddle stared at her. (Y/N) could almost see the thoughts turning in his head. He nodded once, going over to his side of the bed and laying down on the improv sleeping mat. (Y/N) reached up and switched off the light. A soft glow from the street lamps came in through the window, the rain softly padding against the glass. (Y/N) could see Riddle through the space under the bed. He was staring straight up, hands clasped tightly against his stomach. 

“Riddle-,” She started. 

“I’m glad I said it. I think I’ve been wanting to say all of that for a long time now. And I don’t think I would have been able to if you weren’t there, if I didn’t know I had your support. So thank you.” 

(Y/N) thought hard, turning his words over in her head. ‘Screw it,’ She thought. She got up, dragging her blanket and pillow with her. She went over to Riddle’s side of the floor/bed, dropping her stuff next to him and laying back down. She turned on her side to look at him, meeting his wide confused eyes. 

“Riddle, I think I’m in love with you.” Riddle sputtered, choking on air, but now that she had started, (Y/N) knew she had to power through. “I mean, I’ve never really been in love with someone before, but I’m pretty sure that’s what this is. My feelings for you, I mean. It started off with just really admiring you. I know the beginning of the year was really tough and I can’t imagine what it was like to go through all of that. But ever since you’ve been working so hard, and I can see that, everyone can see that. You’re smart and brave and stubborn as hell, which I got to admit I kind of like. I love how I can tell when you get genuinely excited about something or that smug grin you get when you’re right about something. You’re a great house warden and a good friend. Not to mention you’re really cute. So, yeah. I just needed to say that. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same, I understand. Or you don’t want to give me an answer right now. I don’t mind waiting, if it’s for you.” She laid on her back, staring at the ceiling, heart thundering in her chest. The silence of the room was only broken by the soft pitter patter of the rain.  

“(Y/N)?” Riddle said softly. (Y/N) turned on her side so the two of them were facing each other again.  “You know I’m not good with talking about my feelings. I still have a hard time deciphering them myself, to be honest. But one thing I’m absolutely certain about is how I feel about you. I love you. I have to admit, I had ulterior motives when I asked you to come with me for this. I thought maybe it would be some sort of test run for an actual relationship, which now, saying it out loud, I realize how awful that sounds, and I’m sorry. I love how I feel around you, like I can be the greatest person in the world. I love how kind you are, how ready to jump into action, how ready you are to help no matter what. I love how steadfast and brave you are in what must be a terrifying situation, not knowing anything about your surroundings or having the same tools as all of us to combat it. And you’ve basically taken on raising Grim by yourself which I know can’t be easy with having that extra responsibility all of a sudden on top of everything else. I know I might not be the easiest person to be around. I’m stubborn, like you said, and I can get angry easily. Obviously my family is a complete mess. But, I hope, despite everything, you can still accept me for who I am and for who I want to be.” 

“Riddle, I already said I love you. Of course I accept you. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” 

Despite how flustered it made him, Riddle wouldn’t want to be pried out of each other’s arms as they fell asleep for anything in the world. 

~~~

It was sunny the next morning, the rain from the night before lending a pleasant coolness to the air. Staff from the Rosehearts’ townhouse had dropped off Riddle and (Y/N)’s packed bags that morning and the newly formed couple was getting ready to head back to their starting point for the Magic Mirror to bring them back to school. (Y/N) tried to buy some fancy chocolates from the hotel for the boys back at NRC, but the manager and staff had shoved the boxes into her hands at no charge. 

“Compliments to friends of the Draconia family!” He had said. 

As they got ready to head out, they heard someone call from behind them, “Riddle!” 

They turned around, seeing the Rosehearts’ carriage come down the street, Mr. Rosehearts leaning out of the window, waving. He jumped out as the carriage rolled to a stop, jogging over. 

(Y/N) took a step in front of Riddle. “Do you want me to deal with it?” She asked. 

“No, it’s fine,” He said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Riddle left his bags with (Y/N), who watched Mr. Rosehearts’ approach with a critical eye, and walked over to meet his father. “Father. I’ll be heading back to school soon. I don’t want to be late.” 

“Right, of course, I won’t take up too much of your time.” He seemed nervous, not meeting his son’s eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologize, Riddle.” 

Riddle blinked. “Apologize?” 

“Yes, and it’s a long time coming. I’m afraid I haven’t been a good father to you. I saw the kind of stress your mother put you under, how controlling it could be. And I ignored it. I should have been better for you, stood up for you more. You’re my son, Riddle, and I love you. But I haven’t acted like it for a long time. I hope, one day, we can start again and you can forgive me.” 

“I-” Riddle was at a loss for words. “I can’t say it will be soon, but I appreciate you saying that. I hope you can understand.” 

Mr. Rosehearts smiled wide and nodded. “Yes, of course. We’ll go on your time.” 

Riddle looked back at the carriage. “Is Mother here?” 

Mr. Rosehearts’ face dropped, looking away and rubbing the back of his head. “No, she’s still at home. We’re actually going to… spend some time apart for the foreseeable future.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s for the best. I’ll be out at the country estate if you need anything.” He winked and whispered conspiratorially. “To be honest, I’ve always wanted to get into ornithology. I hear there’s a rare variant of the jubjub bird in the area I’ve been dying to get a look at.” 

The two separated, Mr. Rosehearts to his carriage and Riddle to (Y/N). “You okay?” She asked. 

“Fine. I think things might be looking up, actually.” 

She bumped him with her hip. “Well, you’ve got a super cool new girlfriend now, so I sure hope so.” 

Riddle chuckled, linking their arms together. They stepped back through the portal to school, confident that no matter what trials and tribulations would come next, they would face them together. 

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (1)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 800

WARNINGS: mentions of blood

PART 1 ✧˖°.

"Promise me.”

"Hope I,-"

"Promise Dream."

"I promise." 

The Dream Lord stiffened in his seat as he banished away his thoughts to the darkest chambers of his mind, afraid they would return otherwise. But they still did, every time. The colours swirling in the glass pane that framed his throne cast vibrant hues of light on his poised face, accentuating his features that were sharp enough to cut skin. Promise Dream, the words came back as a whisper, evoking a chill on his neck that travelled through his spine. He shut his eyes willing his mind to quiet, trying to-

"My lord." Lucienne's welcoming voice pulled him to the present. 

"You have a visitor," she announced. 

Morpheus raised an eyebrow imperceptibly at his failure to come up with someone who might visit his realm, especially when he was not expecting anyone. 

"Little brother,”

The voice was accompanied by a woman with black curls and a skin that glowed before the light from the glass pane even touched her. 

"Death," Morpheus stated, bewilderment tucked somewhere in his tone. After all, he hadn't expected to meet her again so soon. 

"How are you?" She asked.

"I am truly well sister, what brings you here?"

Death knew how much truth his ‘truly well’ held but let it pass for the moment. "Lucienne would you please excuse us for a minute?" 

"Ofcourse my lady.” She dipped her head and pursued the command, closing the colossal doors behind her. 

"Something...something has happened.” Death wasted no time in speaking.  

This time Dream did not try to hide the raise in his eyebrow. "Whatever do you mean?" His calm voice floated through the room. 

"Dream,”

Before she could follow the sentence, turmoil had already begun growing within him, Death was using his name only to soften the blow. 

"It's here."

“Bloody hell, that was one hell of a case!” Charles exclaimed as he shut the door behind you three. 

“Charles you know Edwin suffers from serious ptsd please stop using hell so much around him. It’s not like the British lack in creative curses,” you reprimanded him as you shrugged your jacket off, draping it over the couch. 

“Haha you’re hilarious,” Edwin stated monotonically while Charles started chanting ‘hell’ in the background just to spite the both of you. 

“Thanks hon,” you winked. “And Charles shut that hole up or if the ghost didn’t get you I surely will.”

“Hell hell hell hell hell- ow what was that for?” 

You grinned in delight as your boot contacted with his abdomen, “for being annoying.” 

Another “ow” escaped Charles as he sent glaring looks at you. “And that?” 

“For being you,” you beamed, devoid of both your boots now.

Your smile was quickly wiped off your face as Charles began his incantation right in your face. 

“Get away from me!” You groaned flailing your hands to push his bloodied face away. 

“Okay now I don’t know about you both but I for one am seriously tired after the events that have transpired during the day. So if you will excuse me and please take whatever this is,” Edwin gestured at the both of you with a foul expression, “somewhere else because I need to rest.” 

“Hell hell hell,” Charles resumed being annoying as if nothing had happened. 

“I swear if even a droplet of that ghost’s blood drops on my t-shirt I will fucking kill you. Again.” 

“Hell hell- you love me too much for that-hell hell-”

“Yeah? Go on and find out- NO!” You let out a scream that would have for sure woken up your neighbours if you had any, being a secretive ghost agency and what not. 

“You bitch! That was my favourite t-shirt!” You looked down at the once white fabric now bearing an impression of Charles' right profile in blood.

“I know.” He had the audacity to smirk at that. 

You went for his throat, fully determined to give truth to your previous threat when Edwin pulled you from him. 

"Enough! Both of you!” 

Charles and you stared at each other, your ears still hot with fury.

“Charles go wash up that face please! And Hazel you need sleep, unlike us, so go retire to your bedroom.” 

“Like you can just order us around,” you rolled your eyes. 

But Edwin’s one look in your way got you scrambling for your jacket. 

“Yes boss.” Charles made his way to the bathroom. 

“Goodnight Edwin, fuck you Charles.” And you departed with your wishes.

You sighed as you switched on the lights in your room, and plopped down on the single bed. Not even mustering up the courage to change into your night clothes, you let sleep engulf you and entered the world of dreaming. 

A/N: hello peeps this story is set post the events of the sandman show and i haven’t read the comics so you will have to bear with the inconsistencies and the like. if i mess up real bad pls do let me know<3

SERIES MASTERLIST ✧˖°.

[cowgurrrl]

You're My Only Hope for Heaven

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: oh bitch I'm having a fucking blast with this dynamic the slow burn is slow burning

Summary: An unlikely patron saunters into your bar [3.5k]

Warnings: one (1) creepy guy, one (1) fake marriage, lots of flirting that’s not flirting but it’s not not flirting, one (1) kiss

You try not to make it a habit of picking up bar shifts during the week. Not only is it almost always slow, and you barely make any money, but it's hard to go from teaching for eight hours directly to another job. You'd much rather be at home, grading or doing something for yourself for the first time in weeks. But you couldn't say no when Katie called you, almost in tears, begging you to take her shift so she could deal with a burst pipe in her house. You don't regret doing her a favor, but you do regret other things as you stand behind the mostly empty bar as whatever game is happening plays on the screen above your head. You think it's a UT game. Or maybe A&M. Or any of the other SEC Texas schools with an absurd football budget. 

You're basically yawning your way through your shift and working through your newest painting in your head, trying and failing to not think about school until absolutely necessary. Principal Martinez is cracking down on the stupid minutiae the school board demands of its teachers, and you spent most of your afternoon writing student objectives on the board. On top of that, your art club kids have been begging you to plan a field trip to the local art museum for weeks. You finally relented, but the paperwork is mind-numbing and requires much more work than you thought. Between working, making art, and trying to live your life, you barely have time. 

Another reason you hate working weekdays is the creepy regulars. Normally, you can ignore them on a busy Saturday night, but it's harder when it's as dead as it is. You have no idea how Katie deals with them on a regular basis. It started with a guy at the bar, you think his name is Steve, asking you progressively invasive questions. "How old are you?" "You gotta boyfriend?" "What time do you get off?" One right after each other, even after you made it clear you're not interested. Fake laughing and making excuses to run to the back or change a keg don't throw him off. 

"Keep it up, and I'll cut you off." You finally threaten after he asks you why you're being a bitch. You roll your eyes when the bell above the door rings, probably admitting yet another asshole who's gonna make your night hell. When you turn toward the door, the words leave you before you can stop them. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

"Now, is that any way to greet your customers?" Joel chuckles, and you sigh as he sits down in front of you. Thankfully, his brother is not in tow, and you can save yourself a little embarrassment. "I didn't know you worked here."

"I don't," you say. "Whatcha drinkin'?" 

"Looks like you're workin' to me." He smirks and you shoot him a look.

"You wanna free drink or not?" 

"Shiner," he answers quickly. You hum in acknowledgment, not even bothering with the POS system and going right to the fridge to pull a bottle out for him. You pop the cap off and place a napkin under the beer before sliding it to him. "Are you bribin' me?"

"You've gotta be faster with your questions, Miller. You've already accepted it. Might as well enjoy." You say, and he laughs. 

"Well, alright, then," he says, raising his beer to you before taking a quick sip. "So, what's this, then? You moonlightin' as a bartender?" He asks, and you fight yourself on how to answer. What if word gets back to parents? Administration? They couldn't reprimand you for that, right? You know plenty of other teachers with second jobs, so it can't be that taboo. Still, you're hesitant to open up to Joel. Out of all the people who could've walked into your bar tonight, it had to be him.

"Something like that." You settle on, wiping a sticky spot on the bar to avoid his gaze. If he feels anything negative about you having a second job, his face doesn't show it. He has a soft smile on his lips and a slight sunburn across his nose, highlighting the freckles living there that previously went unnoticed. You want to tease him about not wearing sunscreen, but the joke dies in your throat when he rests his elbows on your bar, showing off those stupid biceps you can't not look at. He catches your eyes lingering near the short sleeve of his shirt and opens his mouth like he's going to say something, but a grating voice from the other side of the bar cuts him off.

"Excuse me, sweetheart! You've got other patrons over here!" Steve yells, and you feel your eye twitch at his attitude. Joel notices.

"What's wrong with him?" He asks quietly, leaning forward over the bar to get closer to you. Looking into his brown eyes and confused expression, an idea forms.

"Pretend you know me." You say, and his eyebrows knit together, every emotion visible on his face. 

"I do know you."

"No, I mean," you sigh. "That guy over there is a regular on Wednesdays, and the girl who usually works is married, so he doesn't try anything with her, but I won't give him my number, and he's making me fucking miserable. So, just... pretend to know me." Joel is bigger than Steve. Much bigger. Probably a whole head taller and much broader than the man on the other side of the bar. One word from Joel, and he might actually shut up or, better yet, leave altogether so you can finish your day without any more hiccups.

"Okay," Joel agrees, and you reflexively reach out to touch his thick forearm and squeeze. You don't even realize you did it until he smiles like he won a staring contest or something.

"Thank you," you say before turning and bracing yourself to deal with Steve. "What can I do for you, sir?" You ask, but before you can even finish your sentence, he holds up his empty beer bottle and waves it in front of your face like you're stupid. 

"Another beer." He says, and you bite your tongue. 

"You got it."

"Finally," he groans. "You'd think for such an easy fuckin' job, you'd be better at it." 

"What the fuck is your problem?" You ask, refusing to move from your spot to get him his beer, and he scoffs.

"My problem is that you're bein' a fuckin' bitch and ignorin' me when I didn't do nothin' wrong." He's slurring his words together at this point, and you wordlessly go to the POS system to close his tab and send him on his way. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you!" He yells after you.

"Hey, man, why don't you leave her alone? She's just tryna do her job." Joel speaks up from the other side of the bar, and Steve straightens up in his seat as he assesses Joel. 

"This isn't any of your fuckin' business. Stay out of it."

"It's my business now. That's no way to speak to a lady. I think you owe her a mighty big apology." 

"I don't owe her shit," he spits, and you look over to see Joel setting his jaw and squaring his shoulders. "Why's this even matter to you, big shot?"

"That's my fuckin' wife you're mouthin' off to," Joel says without hesitation, and you quickly school your expression. Wife? You asked him to play along, but you didn't think he'd say that. "So, if you wanna keep the rest of your teeth, I suggest you apologize to her, leave her a nice, big tip for dealin' with your sorry ass, and get yourself a ride home." 

Steve is silent as you take the empty bottle away from him— just in case things get really ugly— and slide him his card and bill. He eyes Joel carefully for a few tense seconds before picking up a pen, signing his check, and leaving without another word. The second he's out the door, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders and sigh at the relief. You scrub a hand down your face and look over at Joel.

"You okay?" He asks gently like you're a spooked horse, and you nod. You take a few minutes to get yourself together, putting in Steve's 30% tip and cleaning off the empty bar before returning to Joel. "What?" He asks when he catches you smirking.

"At least buy a girl dinner before you call me your wife." You say, and he laughs, shaking his head. 

"You said the other girl is married. I just took it and ran," he says. "And I already tried to take you to dinner, but somebody said no." 

"School regulation says it's unethical." 

"Well, we're not at school now, and you're certainly not a teacher right now." He says smoothly, vaguely gesturing to your all-black outfit, and you give him a look. "What time d'you get off?"

"You're gonna get me in trouble." You whisper, and he leans forward across the bar. 

"All I did was ask you a question." He whispers back, playfully mocking you. It could be the smile on his face, the relaxed humor behind his eyes, or the fact that he stood up for you because you asked him to, but you glance between him and the clock and take a deep breath. 

"I get off at 12. Unless it stays dead like this, then I'm closing early," you say, and his smile grows. "But this is not a date." 

"'Course not." He chuckles, and you raise your eyebrows at him. 

"I'm serious. I need you to say it's not a date, so I know you won't come after me if your kid fails my class." 

"Is my kid failing your class?"

"No, she's amazing. But for my own mental well-being, I need you to say that this is not a date." You say, and he grabs your wrist to stop your anxious wringing. 

"Let me buy you a drink. That's it. Nothin' more," he says, squeezing you. "This ain't a date." 

"Thank you." You sigh, and he nods. 

You spend an hour or two idling between conversations with Joel and trying to look busy for any manager who might care enough to check the cameras. You're pretty much done with all your closing duties by 10:00, and you wait until it's been a full hour since anyone else came in to flip the closed sign and do a few last-minute things. When the bar is completely clean, empty, and ready for the next shift, you slink back behind it to make yourself and Joel a drink before sitting beside him. 

"You feelin' proud of yourself for getting us here?" You ask as you clink your glass against his and take a sip. 

"Yeah, I've got the prettiest girl in the whole place sittin' by me," he says, and before you can even scold him, he throws his hands up. "Not a date." 

"Not a date." You repeat.

"Still true, though."

"Don't make me regret saying yes to you, Mr. Miller." You say, and he gives you a look. You like teasing him, especially since you can always see exactly how he's feeling. He's not particularly subtle, contrary to what you're sure others think about him. 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Joel?" 

"As many times as it takes, I guess," you shrug. "You also clearly have an aversion to being called Mr. Miller."

"My dad was Mr. Miller." He says, and you roll your eyes, groaning and half-folding in on yourself dramatically. 

"Oh, my God, do you know how many men have said that to me since I've become a teacher?"

"Well, it's true!" He says. "Are you sayin' other people are tryna tell my wife to call ‘em by their first names?" He asks, and you laugh. 

"Believe it or not, you're not the first single parent to ask me out." 

"Am I the first one you said yes to?" 

"So far." 

"So far?" He asks, raising his eyebrows, and you hum. "I'll take it." 

Unsurprisingly, Joel is really easy to talk to. He asks questions about your life outside of work, where you went to school, and what made you want to be a teacher. You ask him about his job and family and, somehow, end up talking about the latest cheesy action film he's seen. When both your drinks are empty, the glasses sit there, the ice slowly melting as you talk into the night. Every time a hint of anxiety creeps up your spine, he makes you laugh or tells you an interesting story from his past and distracts you from it. You lose hours sitting there, and you don't even realize it until your phone pings you with a reminder, and you suddenly see it's past midnight.

"Oh, shit," you mumble, showing Joel the time. "I gotta lock up."

"And you have school tomorrow." He says, and you groan as you stand and grab your glasses. 

"Don't remind me. I've got like five million things waiting to get done there." You say. He watches you step behind the bar, leave them in the sink for the opener to find, and no doubt send a catty message in the group chat asking who closed the night before. His eyes don't leave you even when you reach up and grab your bag, your sleeve falling down just enough to reveal a nasty bruise.

"Woah, that looks like it hurt," he says, gesturing to your arm. "How'd you get that?"

"Promise you won't laugh." Your response does nothing to clear up his confusion, but he raises his right hand and makes a cross over his heart.

"I promise." His tone is gentle and even, but you're still hesitant to actually admit it.

"I fell off a table." 

"I told you!"

"Hey!" You scold. "You promised you'd be cool about it!"

"I promised not to laugh." He says, and you roll your eyes. "They still haven't come to fix it for ya?"

"Would I be climbing on tables if they did?"

"Fair enough," he shrugs. You find the bar keys at the bottom of your purse and walk over to where he's still sitting, your hand resting on the back of your chair. He shifts forward until he can catch the edge of your sleeve and roll it up to see the bruise in all her glory. His fingers are warm, and his touch light as he traces the edge of it, not firm enough to make it ache but enough that you feel the pads of his fingers. You freeze like your stillness will be enough for the feather-light touches to continue, your eyes meeting for a split second. He clears his throat and rolls your sleeve back down for you, drawing his hand back. "Tell you what," he says. "I gotta buddy who gets me a good deal on some spare parts. Let me see if I can track down the part you need, and I'll come fix it myself. Free of charge."

"You don't have to do that." 

"And let my wife fall off tables?" He asks, a smirk pulling on his lips, and you shake your head. "It's the least I can do for the free drinks and, ya know, teachin' my kid." 

"Fine, but don't make it a thing. The maintenance people already don't like me. I can't imagine seeking outside help will make them like me." 

"I won't make it a thing," he promises, leaning back in his chair as his eyes travel up and down your body. He sighs heavily and sucks his teeth like you're suddenly too much, and you smile. "It's a damn shame this wasn't a date."

"What'd you do if it was?" The question borders on dangerous, but you can't take it back now that you've said it. It seems to have piqued Joel's interest, too, because he raises his eyebrows at you.

"You really wanna know?" He asks, and you nod.

"I really wanna know," you say. "How does Joel Miller end a successful date?" He gets a little bashful at the question, a blush creeping up his neck, and you knock his knee with yours to get his attention. "C'mon, don't get shy on me now."

"Alright, alright," he grumbles. "If this were a date, and we were gettin' ready to go out separate ways, I'd walk you out to your car, open the door for ya 'cause a lady should never open her own doors," his voice is slow and low, and he watches your face as he speaks. "And I'd kiss you. Nice and slow so I don't scare ya off or anythin'. I might put a hand on your waist or bite that pretty lip or somethin'. And right when I can feel you wantin' a little more, gettin' a little desperate, I'd stop, say goodnight, and walk back to my truck." His words have a devastating effect on you, and you can't look away from him. The heat rolling off him in waves makes you too warm and flustered. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips, his own tongue darting out to wet his plump bottom lip, and you have half a mind to think he's looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. You have half a mind to let him. 

"You're right," you finally breathe. "It's a shame this isn't a date." He nods and stands, his broad chest grazing yours as you look up at him. You're not a science teacher by any means. If you were, you might be able to explain the magnetism you feel toward Joel or what stupid chemical in your brain makes you wonder what tricks he keeps up his sleeve. But you're not. You're an art teacher. So, the only thing you can focus on is the deep brown of his irises and the heavy lashes and crow's feet that frame his eyes. And the swoop of his salt and pepper curls, the tint of his slightly pink forehead and strong nose. You want to capture his image in the dim lighting of the bar, but you settle for committing it to memory to scribble in the margins of your notebook for the rest of the week. Why couldn't you have been a science teacher?

Neither of you says anything as he finally steps away, giving you the space to turn off the last of the bar lights and push through the haze he created in your mind. He lingers by the door and opens it for you when you go to the front and step into the humid Austin night. You lock the doors and give him a small smile when you turn around to see him rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. 

Then, just as he said, he walks you to your car and opens the driver's side door for you. His truck, the only other car in the parking lot, is parked a few spaces away from yours. It would've been so much easier to just ignore you, get in his car, and drive away, but here he is, being the gentleman he's always been toward you. You step into the space created by the open door and throw your bag in the passenger seat, but don't get in the car. Not yet. He sighs heavily, like he's in physical pain, when you meet his eyes again, and his hand flexes around the edge of your car door. 

"Thanks for my not date." You mumble, and he nods. You're close (and weak) enough that brushing his lips would just take a strong breeze. It freaks you out how okay you are with the idea of "accidentally" kissing Joel Miller. You should be panicking. Alarm bells should be sounding in your head, but the only thing filling the cavernous space is the echo of his voice explaining what he'd do if this were a date. Idiot.

He leans on your door a little more, and your heart quickens, thinking he might actually be the one to make the move. His head ducks just a little, and you get a strong whiff of his cologne, your eyes fluttering shut at the scent. Your throat is suddenly dry, and you're all but pushing up on your toes when he swerves past your lips and presses a chaste, firm kiss to your cheek. His beard scratches your soft skin pleasantly, and you keep your eyes closed until he pulls away, looking like he just won a prize.

"Get home safe." He says as he steps back, still holding your door open. You sigh and fight a smile as you look at him— cocky, vindicated, and knowing exactly what he just did. 

"Goodnight, Joel." You manage to get out before sitting down and letting him gently shut the door for you. You wait until he gets in his truck to roll your window down and shout his name until he does the same. "I'm gonna get you back for that."

"Oh, I'm countin' on it, darlin'."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3

[hvnnibvni]

Together Again | JJK *part 2*

Pairings: Jungkook/Reader

Genre: Mature themes. Romance. Angst. Arranged marriage AU. Childhood best friends to lovers AU.

Warnings: cheating, reader is a rope bunny (ALLEGEDLY), hard!dom JK, switch!reader, reader likes to be slutted out, drunken sex, unplanned pregnancy(this is in the end dw😅), cunnilingus, oral (both receiving), fighting (talk shit get hit) daddy!kink, praise!kink, dirty talk, spanking, hair pulling. Just all around nasty y’all.

Summary: After reader finds her long-term boyfriend in bed with their mutual friend. She moves back into her family home, but under one condition. She has to marry her childhood friend that has been arranged since their childhood. For a wedding gift they go to a mountainous getaway with a group of friends, reader is told that ex and mutual friend get invited, so reader and jk decide to pretend not to know each other to avoid any confusion or miscommunication.

Authors note: Heyyy~ how are you? Welcome back. I’m going to try to release once a day idk yet still trying to figure this app out 😭 I sound old asf bruh but we gone get through it lol. Anyways ENJOY BB🤍

——————————————————————

‘ Oh these bitches got me all the way fucked up’

“well I guess we could go back home for a while. Right my lovelies?” You ask your two afghan hounds, Cleo and Benji. You two babies you’d be damned if you’d let that piece of shit keep them. He can’t even keep himself.

As you drive home you think about what you’re going to say to you parents. You know they’re gonna be upset you left in the first place for someone who had ‘unknown origins’ but you never saw it that way. You really did love him, but you weren’t going to cry over a man. That just wasn’t in you. What would your mother say? You’d rather not think about what you father would say

when you pull up to the security gate the guard is surprised to see you, but none the less let’s you in and quickly gets in the phone. Most likely to tell your parents you were coming up no doubt. “Nothings changed,” you say to yourself as you drive through the landscape up to the manor. As you pull up to the mansion you see you mother running out to great you. “My baby! You’re home! I’ve missed you so much.” Your mother exclaimed as she kisses you all over your face. “Hey mama,” you laugh. “Where’s Dad?” You ask following her into the house. “Oh he’s up int the drawing room right now, he has a guess at the moment. Maybe it’s someone you might remember.” She says smirking to herself. “ I know that look mummy, who’s here?” “An old friends is all I’m going to say,” your mother had a cheeky look on her face when she said that. “Oh you’re up to something weird,” you say to her but ultimately you let it go.

“So are you going to tell you why you’ve come here all of a sudden after no contact for 5 years?” Your mother presses. “I doubt you don’t already know, I know you and daddy have been keeping tags on me since I left.” You answer her as she gives you an innocent face. “I do but I’d like to hear the story from you.” Your mother has been keeping tabs on you since you left, so she definitely knows the whole story. So you tell her everything. What they did and everything they’ve said about you. “Well good thing you didn’t have to deal with trivial matters like that anymore,” she says rolling her eyes at the thought of you ex. “What does that mean momma?” You ask catching the double meaning in her words. “It means you will have a chance to make things right for you and the family reputation.you know what we had to go though and cover up once you left.” She tells you low key reprimanding you at the same time.

*sigh* ”okay momma I’ll do whatever it takes to go back to being the head of the family, and kill those pieces of shit classily.” You tell your mom smirking. Your mom laughs at you change of mood, and leads you to the drawing room where you father is. You hear voices on the other side of the doors besides your fathers. Your mother open the door excited to show your father that you’re back home. When she does you dad looks like he expected to see you on the other side, while he looks at you but you’re focused on the man sitting across from him. “Jungkook,” You breathe out. “Hey y/n long no see,” he says with a breath taking smile. “ welcome home y/n we were actually just talking about you. Before we can accept you back we have one condition.” Your father explains to you. “And what is that daddy?” You ask already having an idea as you continue ti stare at Jungkook. Amazed at how much more mature he’s gotten.

“You have to agree to our previous arrangement, and marry Jungkook.” You father says not wasting anytime. Well at least he welcomed you back. You’d expected him to not speak to acknowledge your existence while you were there. “Okay. I’ll do it.” You rempli to your father watching him stand and make his way over to you. You weren’t expecting him to hug you, but he does. It’s the most loving hug you’ve ever received from you father. ”I’ve missed you babydoll,” he whispers kissing your forehead. “I’ve missed you too daddy,” you say hugging him back trying not to cry.

After a while your mother steps in “I’d hate to break up this touching moment, but we need to get y/n ready for tonight.” You look at her confused “what’s tonight?” “Your engagement party of course!” She says excitedly “why did I think I’d at least have a week to get settled in. You guys already had this planned out didn’t you? I bet you guys called the Jeon family as soon as you found out I was coming right?” You interrogate. Your father chuckles next to you as you look at you parents incredulously. “It was your fathers idea. I said we should wait at least a day.” You mother adds. “ of course it was,” you say as your father looks the other direction with a cheeky smile.

you turn to look at Jungkook who’s been unusually quiet. Watching the scene in front of him. “Were you in on this too?” You ask him looking past your parents. “I actually just found out the moment before you came in,” he responds with a small smile. “But I can say it’s been some of the best news I’ve gotten all week. I really missed you y/n.” He says scratching the nape of his neck. You and Jungkook have been arranged since childhood. He’s always had a crush on you, it broke his heart when you refused to marry him for someone else. But now that he has you he’s not going to let you go again. “I missed you too JK, you’ve grown up so much I barely even recognized you,” you say chuckling. “Yeah I know right. It’s crazy how much people can change over a short amount of time.” He says looking at you with a look you just couldn’t decipher.

Before you could respond you mother cuts in again “Ma fille, we really need to get you ready for tonight. Ah please take her bags up to her room and get her into the proper attire.” You mother asks the head maid. “Oh and burn whatever she’s wearing.” She points at your outfit , covering her face with a look of disgust. “Cheri what is this atrocity you’re wearing. It hurts to look at.” You were wearing white beach shorts, a stripped tee and a green cardigan. It’s not what you were used to wearing when you were home. But it was comfortable and made you stand out less. “Momma it’s not that bad,” you defend. “No babydoll your mothers right. That’s not something anyone in our family would wear, maybe if the cardigan wasn’t the same shade of puke it would pass as inside clothes. No scratch that no one would ever wear that in their entire lives.” You father adds looking slightly disgusted. You look at you parents shocked at them reading you to filth. Behind them you see Jungkook holding his laughter while covering his face. Before you could defend yourself further you’re already being ushered out of the room.

[soubi122]

His Afterthought

Nothing hurts more than being his afterthought. Characters: Ran, Izana, Sanzu, Hanma, Taiju, South + your favorite assholes lol (does Dabi fit? i just started watching My Hero Academia)

Let me know who your favorites are that fit this scenario.♥️

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, they are jerks, 'friend with benefits', one sided love, no comfort.

Seeing him always made your heart flutter. The way he'd kiss you, touch you and fucked you into the mattress - it was heaven. He'd come to your door well into the night only to get what he wants. Whether he's drunk or not, he always finds a way to destroy you inside and out. Only after he's finished with you does it leave you feeling empty inside. The numbness creeped up on you by the time he shut the door behind him. 

Though he has no romantic feelings for you, he still knocked on your door, he still made you his, he made your heart ache and flutter at the same time. Outside of these 4 walls, you were merely friends and he was free to choose any other woman - but if things didn't work out, he always back tracked. 

With your face pressed against the mattress you could barely breathe as he thrusts his hips into you. A fist full of your hair was tangled between his fingers, he pressed your head harder into the sheets. He was angry and you could feel it. Those feral grunts rumbled in his chest and almost drowned out your own muffled moans. 

“Bitch couldn't even be honest with me.” He says between thrusts. Whatever little relationships he had didn't last, they broke things up when they met the rest of the gang. It was understandable, you were either going to accept him no matter what and become a target or leave it all behind - including him. The girls would opt to leave everything behind, not even giving him a chance to get comfortable. 

“She…fuck…said she didn't care as long as I… Mmh…” He trails off as he feels himself getting closer. The way you would always clench around his length when he was angry, it drove him mad. Despite having women bow at his feet, he hasn't found anyone else to replace this feeling. No one readily opened their door for him like you did, always ready for him - he didn't even need to prep you. Your body already knows what to do when it sees him. 

Your core was burning and reaching its limit. “Ngh…too much! Slow down! Please! Please!” You squeal and try to break free from his grasp. With one hard yank of your hair, he had you up on your knees and your back arching for him. His free hand grips your waist so hard that it was leaving marks, he wasn't letting you go. Tears were now running down your face as he sent you straight to your maker. Your legs were shaking and your moans were now screams of pure pleasure. “Fuck…fuck…” He moans as his pace gets sloppy and he reaches his limit. 

You're both left panting and barely able to catch your breath. Collapsing into the mattress, you take a moment to prepare yourself for what follows next - his leave. “You're such a good little slut.” He says with a smug smirk. His words hurt yet you feel satisfaction at him praising you. By the time you look over your shoulder, he was already getting dressed. “You can stay the night you know… It’s really late.” You say and sit up, using the bed sheet to cover yourself up, the sight in front of you always makes your heart break. You knew there was no point, the man is the danger that lurks in the night.

Without even acknowledging you he begins to walk out the door. “Bye!” You say with venom on your tongue and he waves you off. You throw yourself back into the mattress and clutch your chest, you were tired of this routine yet you always gave into him. You couldn't say no, he was like a drug, a neurotoxin that just numbs your body. It was getting harder to hide your feelings for him. There have been times when you've slipped and end up reprimanded or embarrassed because you didn't know your place. Maybe it was time for you to look for someone who will actually stay the night. 

Several days passed and he hadn't called, texted or even stopped by. Did he really get upset at you for asking for him to stay the night? You checked your phone every couple hours to see if he'd planned to stop by. It was just silent. 

A few days later, you're out on an errand when you run into him, however he's not alone. A woman is draped around his shoulder and a stinging sensation begins to grow in your heart. Remembering your place, you only glance at him - making brief eye contact and don't really acknowledge him. It's a moot point to even do so, the unfazed look on your face hid the cracks that were beginning to spread from your heart. Opting to turn around and avoid getting any closer, you turned on your heels and took another route home. You knew better. It’s always like this. Sleep together, satisfy his urge and he disappears.

The moment you came home, you put everything away and did the rest of the errands so that you could keep your mind busy. However, once the sun set and the light faded - you felt yourself slowly slipping. Pacing your apartment a few times until you settled on the couch, the moment you sat down you felt it. The pain in your chest was slowly getting stronger. It was always like this, the loneliness, the sadness, the ache in your heart that couldn’t be soothed away by anything or anyone. Hot tears were now streaming down your face, you hated it. You hated the pathetic feeling of jealousy and love. As much as you wanted to deny this feeling, you knew in your heart that you loved him. There have been times when you've doubted these feelings, trying to convince yourself that it's only physical, that he doesn’t see you as anything more than just a fuck buddy. A convenient pussy to use and abuse.

[salemofthe0pera]

you against yourself ; mark lee smau

[xvii] your nose looks better

“so what’s the lore on slut and cunt bitch?” hyuck asked from his seat on the couch beside y/n. the girl groaned loudly, tossing her head back onto the back of the couch with a roll of her eyes. 

movie night had started which turned into more snacks, bruschetta and chatting night. Everyone had their place scattered around the living room, save for jisung who sat at the kitchen bar counter with his nose buried in his laptop. His coding class needed a ten paged report due at midnight, his procrastination got the best of him, but he refused to be left out due to his raging fomo. 

“basically, we dated first semester sophomore year and he cheated on me, that’s kind of it.” y/n said, “he just decided to run his mouth about it ever since and it kind of tarnished my reputation amongst mutuals and whatnot. I kind of became a recluse after, was just tired of seeing and hearing my name everywhere.” 

hyuck nodded, gesturing his with hand and making a choking motion. “I will do this to him very painfully and then rip out his eyes.”

y/n nodded, lips pressed together in a flat smile. “appreciate it king” 

“that explains why you fell off the face of the earth though” mark piped up from his place on the other couch. he was sunken into the cushions, his ankle crossed over his knee as he scrolled on his phone. His red spiderman socks peeked out from his camo cargos. A yellow t-shirt draped over his figure clashing with the colors. The grey zip up he wore didn’t do him any justice either. 

“dog, we can see your fucking outfit from space.” chenle grumbled, throwing a pillow at mark. 

Mark frowned, catching the pillow mid air and chucking back at an unsuspecting chenle who made an ‘oof!’ as the pillow smacked his face.

“you just sounded like the old roblox death sound.” Both winter and jisung said at the exact same time. The pair froze, giving each other the side eye before jinxing again. “stop trying to be me bitch.”

winter gasped, picking up the pillow used on chenle and throwing it at the back of jisung’s head. The boy yelped, rubbing the back of his scalp with a pout. 

“can we stop throwing the good pillow? Home goods is expensive.” renjun reprimanded them, picking up the pillow as he graced the living room with his presence after slaving away in the kitchen. He set the tray of bruschetta and little cubes of cheese and fruit on the coffee table.

“oh my god slay, shark coochie board.” giselle sang, taking a cube of gouda and popping it into her mouth. 

“what movie do you guys want next?” jaemin inquired, scrolling through netflix. 

A chorus of hums rippled across the living room, some suggestions being thrown out and all chenle’s suggestions being rejected. 

“haters gonna hate, stay out my lane because I’m drifting in my lambo and stuntin’ on you hoes.” He said in retort, earning a slap across the head from jeno.

y/n stared into space, lost in thought. winter seeing ethan was a travesty of course but she couldn’t help but think about where she’d be if they didn’t split. Most definitely not living with her friends and most definitely not hanging out with her new ones.

She felt a dip in the couch, shaking her out of her train of thought and turning to face a smiling mark. He draped the blanket over them, settling back into the couch. y/n cuddled into the giant, fluffy blanket with a content hum. Her skin radiated a chill that mark could feel, he quirked an eyebrow at her temperature and tucked the blanket around her shoulder. 

“what?” y/n asked him softly. 

“you’re really cold, are you okay?” he asked, brown eyes scanning her face with concern. 

“yeah sorry, I usually run cold.” y/n lied, giving a small reassuring smile. 

Mark gave an unconvinced nod but left it alone, a comfortable silence encasing their bubble. The movie drowned out all other sounds, the title screen for ‘the sixth sense’ starting as everyone got comfortable for it. 

“thank you for the apology letter mark, it was very considerate of you.”

Mark stiffened, laughing awkwardly and nodding. He glanced at y/n who was already looking at him. His hands felt clammy as he answered her, embarrassment for the entire noise ordeal settling in. “I meant it, I’m really sorry dude. Especially after what your major is, you need sleep.”

“no, no. it’s all forgiven. Don’t even worry about it.” y/n shook her head, patting his knee under the blanket. y/n stifled a laugh at the look mark gave her. resembling a guilty puppy, his eyes screamed with remorse and genuine bashfulness.  

“and now you’re tutoring me on chemistry, dude this is so embarrassing.” He whispered, dragging his hands down his face with a laugh. 

“shut up shut up shut up.” y/n said with a roll of her eyes, shaking his shoulder until he laughed and stilled her hand. 

“okay, okay, okay.” He teased her, taking the hood of her sweatshirt and pulling it taut over her head. Her black strands of hair peeked out from the grey material, looking like ink strokes on paper. 

“I’m curious, why do you dye your hair?” mark whispered to her, attempting to keep their conversation in the corner quiet so the others could watch the movie. 

“I really like the grunge, gothic style.” y/n shrugged. “besides it makes me stand out and I like that.”

Mark nodded, letting the information sink in. he had always took notice of her clothing. y/n always dressed up for class, her eye makeup always sharp and smoky. everyday she paired her outfits with those beaten up doc martens and layered jewelry. He thought it was cool that she pretended not to notice the stares and comments about her darker appearance. she did things because she wanted to, it was admirable to him and he wished he could do the same. 

“what about my style?” mark winced with a teasing smile.

y/n covered her mouth, stifling her laughter and burying her face into the couch behind her.

Mark’s jaw dropped, a shocked look on his face. “dude come on, it cannot be that bad.”

“it is.” y/n giggled, taking a deep breath to compose herself. “it’s like a 4 year old dressed himself for school.”

“dude that’s so foul.” mark breathed. the smile on his lips revealing his set of white teeth. He pulled the strings of y/n hoodie, making the material scrunch around her face.

time went on and the movie kept playing, the credits soon rolling as the number of friends in the hangout dwindled to a handful as the members of 9304 retreated back to their hole. Hyuck was the one of the only ones left, completely asleep on the couch, head in giselle’s lap as he snored softly. The ginger wasn’t too far behind, claiming she ‘knew damn well everyone knew her bedtime was 8pm’ even jaem and renjun had headed to bed.

The clock on the wall read 2:23am, and y/n frowned. She felt that buzz in her limbs and head with an inward groan, she needed to consume some form of sustenance soon.

“oki guys, goodnight. i’m gonna let hyuck sleep here” Winter said sleepily. She placed a sweet kiss on y/ns’s head then moved to try maneuvering hyuck out of giselle’s lap. She freed giselle, giving mark a wave by then led the pair back to her room, holding her hand as they went. 

y/n smiled, she loved how close all her friends were. She missed giselle living with them, but she also knew giselle was taken care of very well with her boyfriend. This made y/n content enough with the arrangement. besides, he was a nice guy.

“I’m gonna make some cider,” y/n said quietly, “come with me.”

Mark smiled, nodding with a soft “sure thing.” on his lips.

y/n wrapped the blanket around her shivering form, shuffling to the kitchen with mark trailing behind her. she brushed a stray lock of hair from her face as she gathered the materials to make some warm cider. 

Mark watched y/n move about her kitchen, her shaking hands didn’t go unnoticed by him. He ignored it for now, he’d ask when the time was right. The atmosphere in the apartment was too soothing and warm to interrupt.

“do you like cinnamon?” y/n voice snapped him out of his thoughts, he nodded and watched her stir some into the small pot on the stove. Moments later she handed him a steaming mug of apple cider, he bowed his head in thanks and took a smell of the cider. 

“want to sit outside?” she asked him. 

“yeah.” Mark whispered. 

By the time the pair settled onto the wicker swing on the balcony, the fairy lights winter had put outside were turned on and the fake fireplace renjun bought was paired with it. The combo created a cozy ambience in the nighttime. the autumn months had officially settled in, the chill of the air evident as mark and y/n’s breath were visible in the night. y/n sipped her cider with a hum, the sweetness of the apple quelling her protesting glucose levels. 

“so smarty pants, why biochemical engineering?” mark inquired. 

“I wanted to research cell growth and mutations, specifically for people with glucose diseases like diabetes and stuff like that.” She said to him. 

“wow, that’s really cool man. You’ll change lives with something like that. now I feel so lame.” He laughed, an awkward blush on his cheeks. “I’m just a lowly music major.”

“alright then, your turn. music major.” y/n smiled, nudging his ribs with her elbow to ease his tension., “why’s that?”

Mark cleared his throat, shifting in the swing and swallowing a sip of cider. “I love music more than anything and I have something to prove.”

y/n raised an eyebrow, curiosity filling her eyes. “what are you proving?”

“eh its nothing really, it’s kind of embarrassing actually.” mark shook his head. “I needed to prove I was capable to some people.”

“parents?”

Her statement caught him slightly off guard, he froze before nodding in slight disbelief. “yeah actually for the most part, other people too of course. I’m sure you have some idea of people’s reactions when you say you want to be a songwriter, ‘oh you better have a backup plan!’ and ‘are you sure it’ll work out how you want it to?’ its just annoying to get constantly told no one believes I you in a nice way, haha. Sorry was that too much?”

“not at all.” y/n giggled. “I didn’t expect you to be so passionate about it, I mean I’ve never heard you sing or play anything before.”

Mark shrugged; his face felt warm against the cold air. He looked down into his mug, suddenly interested in how many dots of cinnamon he could count.

“not to get emo and sappy but,” he said quietly, not daring to look her in the face and staring straight ahead. “sometimes I doubt myself, like a lot. And now that I’ve come this far, I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell them the truth about myself. You know?”

“I know.”  She said. “more than anyone I think.”

Mark hummed, finishing off his cider. “thank you by the way.”

“yeah of course, anytime.” 

Silence enveloped them, the sounds of the city in the distance. y/n tucked herself further into the blankets, the lull of the swing a relaxing pendulum. 

“I think you can change lives too you know.” y/n whispered several minutes later, turning to look at mark.

He made eye contact with her, taken slightly aback by the sincerity in her facial features. Like she truly believed he would make a difference in the world writing songs and notes on an instrument. 

“really?” his voice was quiet, laced with an almost childlike gentleness. 

She nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. Mark glanced at her lips, covered in a layer of glossy carmex and hints of cinnamon form the cider. His breath caught in his throat, the creative cogs in his mind turning for the first time in weeks as he watched the way the balcony’s fairy lights seemed to cast her lips in an amber glaze. Her lips looked soft, he was sure they felt soft too, pretty in the auburn light drizzling over her facial features. 

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then another time, clearing his throat as he realized he’d been staring at her lips. He silently prayed to God she didn’t notice, her gaze transfixed on the lights of the city before them. 

“I’m glad your nose is better.” 

Mark burst into soft laughter, shaking his head and face palming. He leaned his head back against the swing. “dude, I will literally never live this down from anyone. Its gonna be on my gravestone, ‘ here lies mark who broke his nose freshman year of college’”

“what?! It was a huge deal bro,” she teased him, matching his posture and leaning her head back against the wicker.  “you even made it on barstool!”

“oh my god dude, you know about that?”

“everyone does mark.”

“great, that makes me feel so much better about the entire thing thanks man,” mark said sarcastically, turning his head against the grain to look at her. “to my defense, it was an accident.” 

“oh really? hmm, I thought you ran into the door on purpose.” 

Mark gave her a flat stare. y/n knew he was attempting to hide a laugh, the teasing glint in his eyes gave him away. 

“I saw you out of the corner of my eye, and I couldn’t remember where I’d seen you before. I was racking my brain for an answer and then bam it hit me, college algebra freshman year.” 

“yeah, bam it hit you.” 

“alright.”

y/n burst into giggles, her eyes crinkling as she laughed until tears pricked her vision. Her smile was just as nice as her lips mark thought. 

[9.26]

2.3k words.

[<prev] ; [next>]

[katsukikitten]

Bakugou Katsuki wasn't supposed to fall in love.

He long ago claimed it wasn't for him and he sure as hell wasn't supposed to fall in love with his neighbor in a shitty apartment complex after a suspension, more like a fucking exile, to the United States.

The argument and reprimanding fresh in his mind even after the grueling fourteen hour red eye. He was the only man awake on the plane, leg shaking as he hates anything that puts him in a position to trust someone else.

"I told you, he was in my fucking blind spot!" Bakugou shouts for the fourth time and the head of the hero commission shakes her head.

"So you didn't see him. What if he was a civilian? You nearly killed him. The public demands consequences."

"Since when do you give a fuck about my public image?" Bakugou snarls, staring her down. One eye a clouded garnet and the other a burning ember, "Ya sure had a good time trying to show off my disability. Cause the hero commission is so fuckin inclusive."

"Kaachan."

"Shut the fuck Deku!" Bakugou snarls, facing the mop of green curls, fisting the man's shirt. He hadn't lost his cool like this in nearly a decade but everything was grating to the nearly thirty year old. Especially today.

The pair, despite being the top heroes of Japan, were in over their heads when the syndicate they were breaking up had an unexpected ace up their sleeve. Temporary quirk silencers and strong ones at that. The hit Izuku who normally flanks Bakugou's now 'weaker' flank. And when someone much smaller than Izuku stepped into his blind spot his quirk acted out on its own. Igniting from the scar tissue on his arm and hitting the random Yakuza point blank in the face.

"Enough! I would be thanking Izuku if I were you. He's the reason you haven't been formally asked to step down. He's the one who found a happy middle ground. You're to train with a Hero in the states, if she sees improvement within two years you'll come back to Japan to continue your career. If not then you'll have to hang up your grenade belt for good."

"Yea cause sending me where the crime rate is practically tripled sounds like a great fuckin idea."

"Shitty fucking Deku." He hisses to himself as he grips harshly at his luggage, the plastic starting to melt from his grip.

He looks up at the apartment complex he's meant to stay in. It's worse for ware and every window on the first to the third floor has iron bars aside from the ones lucky enough to be snug against a rusted out fire escape.

He can feel it already. The eyes, all the fucking eyes that greedily drink in his cloudy eye and deep fissures that snake from his finger tips around his wrist and thick forearm. Dancing along the curve of his elbow and the veins of his shoulders. Even into his hairline, damaging it so deep that his sideburn never did grow back, his ear still gaged but the cartilage at the top split and jagged.

But eyes always lingered on how it branched up his throat, splashing onto his cheek stopping just before his nose but reaching the edge of his eyebrow.

He was considered a handsome man, once.

Eyes that burn him like a brand and he follows the weight of the gaze to a kid, a little boy. Patience far too thin he bares his teeth before growling out in perfect English.

"Fuck ya lookin?" The kid rounds the corner again, choking a sob before Bakugou lugs his one suitcase into the rotting complex. Taking the stairs, since there were only stairs, letting his big hero combat boots sink into the damp carpet. Each step brings a fresh waft of mildew to his nostrils, further souring his mood with each floor he rises.

"No tenant's laws in this bitch?" He growls in his mother tongue, agitated.

Getting to the sixth floor of the old brick building sandwiched between two identical dying residences. Finding his door 6C by the ware of the wood alone, the letter and number had long since fallen out of the stripped holes in the door.

He fishes in his pocket for the key, trying to shove it in. He flips it around once, twice, back to the original position and the goddamn thing won't fit. His palm pressed to the thin wooden door, the wood smoking from his touch and he has half a mind to blow the goddamn door off it's cheap hingest. It wouldn't take much.

Hell he was sure he could just open it with one rough shove of his shoulder and the door would fall flat into the foyer, if there even was one.

"Oh. Door trouble?" You've snuck up on him, on his right side in his goddamn blind spot and he turns just as his quirk hisses and pops to life. Caramel scents the air and his black skull shirt sleeve is fried.

"Ah M sorry." You smile sheepishly, "I don't mean to sneak up on you. Bad habit. I'm your neighbor, 6D."

You give him your name and he forgets it before you even finish shoving out the syllables. Snarling at you with disgust but his animosity either doesn't bother you or it went over your head.

"Do you mind?" You don't give him time to answer as you slip the key from his right hand with ease, ignoring the hot to touch metal of it before you wiggle the key in. Shimming it just right, listening with your perked ear and jiggling the handle, lifting before hitting the door with your shoulder.

A soft oof leaves your pretty lips and Bakugou's chest tightens. He's about to berate you out of habit until you turn around, opening the door wider for him without stepping over the threshold.

"Welcome home.♡" You say it so sweetly that it costs his tongue, dripping down the back of his throat where it forms into an unexpected lump.

He can't remember the last time he'd been welcome home by anything other than an angry reporter or a screaming cellphone demanding answers for his actions. His correct actions.

Because the fuck did those dumb ass pencil pushers know when it came to being out in the field?

Jack fuckin shit that's what they knew.

That's why he was standing in the USA, in the middle of winter, in one of the coldest fucking states and biggest fucking cities.

Why he was standing in this apartment that reeked of cheap cigarettes.

Why he was standing in this hallway, facing a woman he'd nearly blown up by accident, daydreaming about you opening that door every day for the rest of his hellish 730 days.

Swallowing thickly, unable to alleviate the tightness of his throat forcing him to grunt out "Thanks."

Shoulder checking you as he shoves into his apartment. But you were in a city full of rude assholes, so your neighbor being one would be no surprise.

"See ya around, hot head."

Bakugou slams the door on your words and it rattles the whole floor from the force. Dark eyes boring holes into the dingy, nicotine stained walls.

Kitchen, small and open to the living area, a sagging couch and groaning refrigerator. Katsuki was sure the oven being simply plugged in was a fire hazard on its own. Hardwood floors were thin, showing scuffed nail heads indicating it had been sanding three times too many in a poor attempt to save money and a portion stained a suspicious ruddy brown in a massive organic shape.

The bedroom and bathroom were no better, cleaned in a rush if at all and on the window sill there is a fresh coat of white paint forever trapping dead flies in the latex.

"What the fuck…" He swore he'd find a convenience store, getting cleaning supplies among other things but first he needed to lie down. Exhaustion hits him as he thinks of how difficult it was going to be to find another apartment and to break this lease. This place being the only complex with a last minute opening and for an astronomical price just for it to be another shit hole in his life.

He doesn't even bother with the stained mattress, picking it up and shoving it into the hallway to lean against the other, knowing full well all of this furniture was found the same god damn way. Shoved in and dressed up for shoddy pictures with half the view of the room blocked my wrinkled white finger tips.

He throws his two towels on the floor of the bedroom, using his bag for a pillow getting the worst sleep of his fucking life.

Even worse than when he and Deku had to share a single sleeping bag on an undercover mission in the middle of a snow storm.

But not before he orders absolutely everything that he can to make this place semi liveable, even if he didn't think he'd be here more than a month.

Morning comes with the loud slam of a door and a heated argument, making him sit straight up, both palms burning bright orange. Remnants of his dreams that always lead him astray.

Of eighteen years ago, his puncture scars ache from the memory before the one along his face and arm grows numb. Tingling numb and yet it feels as if fire ants let their pinchers sink into his tender flesh and root around in his eye socket.

Before the one on his sternum heats, expanding as he takes a deep calming breath making the cartilage crack from the inhale. It does little to qualm it and he just cracks his neck, forever used to waking up with adrenaline in his veins, threatening to explode his fragile heart.

The thought makes his stomach churn, normally a cold shower would do him good but the idea of standing under the stagnant shower head made it far worse. Skin crawling as he rises to grab supplies for his apartment before his evening would be eaten up by whoever the hell he was meeting.

His phone chiming with a reminder of unread messages, several in the group chat of well wishes and hoping you made it before he replies.

Fuck all of you.

He locks his phone after putting it on do not disturb before killing his entire morning, getting almost lost in a city very much like his home.

He's thankful he was studious growing up. That he can read and speak English well. His face covered in a mask and his spiky blonde hair shoved under a dark beanie makes navigating the city after one missed stop easy.

People left him well enough alone and he found his way back to his apartment on the first try. Most would call it luck but Bakugou would call it skill. Obsessive observation more like it.

Scrubbing at the hardwood and apartment felt as if he was scrubbing away the grime that stuck to the edges of his mind. Some parts of the floor he could get so shiny they reflected his own smug scarred smirk and others, like that blotchy stain, blood stain, just wouldn't come out no matter how hard he tried.

No matter what solution or tool he used.

Nothing worked, leaving him frustrated, covered in flaking wood stain and smelling like rust.

He checks his phone to see his shipments will be late and growls, asking himself what's the point of scheduling a time before he showers and heads out again.

The rundown warehouse he finds himself in front of gives him a dreadful sense of deja vu. As if he's transported back to yesterday, standing outside the apartment complex. He can feel eyes on him again, to the right of him.

But he knows no one is around, nothing but a stray cat that runs away from the old building to chase the flock of seagulls.

He double checks the address in the email sent from the hero commission and rolls his eyes. Shoving his hands with his phone in his pockets as he figured they let some lacky type out the address instead of concerning themselves with the hot head anymore.

He's about to turn on his heel and leave when the metal door swings open.

Curiosity was a deadly thing.

Slinking in, quiet as a cat, despite his brash and bold quirk. Having learned the hard way that sometimes subtlety is the only way. His eye adjusts quickly to the dark, sunlight bleeding in through the rotted roof and the windows that weren't boarded up. His ears perk as he listens, willing his heart to quiet and slow before that odd sensation settles in his bones. Hairs standing on end as if something were breathing on his neck.

But the puff of air never comes.

They say your body always knows when someone lays eyes on you, even when you're asleep.

It only took Bakugou losing one of his eyes to believe it.

Someone was standing in his blind spot.

Instinctively he turns, over and over in a circle and nothing ever comes into sight. He cannot hear what is there and he cannot see it but he knows something stands right outside his field of vision.

Like trying to meet face to face with the shadows that only grow in the corner of one's eye and when you look directly at it is when it disappears.

Sure as he's fucking breathing someone loomed and stalked just within reach although fully out of sight.

Each turn clenches his jaw tighter and tighter. More and more pent up anger as his hand glows on its own.

Once known as the best in the game for quirk control was now actively, and often, experiencing quirk failure.

He hears a pillar crack and then another and another until he's standing in the middle of the room with groaning concrete slabs compromised long before he came in.

"Fuck." He hisses, watching the trap reveal itself in real time before the building caved in from its own weight.

Subconsciously Bakugou knew there was symbolism in here somewhere. It felt a lot like he did, holding up a crumbling career for what he didn't know.

He only had his mother and father as family. His friends were successful and no longer needed his help in anything aside from maybe dating advice. Which was stupid, Bakugou was always the one getting broken up with but in his defense he didn't even know they were dating. He always assumed they knew he needed nothing more than to get his dick wet.

As the building collapses he sends out small bursts to keep himself from getting crushed and from sending debris flying out within a ten mile radius.

It's only when the dust settles does he feel someone in his blind spot again, except this time they step out of it before he can react.

"Let fear and anger be a source of power without consuming you." A woman shorter than him and only five or so years older, stood before him. Long graying hair placed up in a neat, smooth bun, contrasting against her dark jumpsuit. More notably are her milky eyes that hold onto his gaze without seeing anything at all.

Her demeanor and voice make his scars burn. Makes him think back of his first therapist he had to see twice a week until he was 22 to keep his gnawing anger in check.

The very one that laid at his feet in the form of bent rebar and heavy concrete.

"Fuck was that?" He dusts off his shoulders, "If I wanted vague advice I could have read it in a fuck all subreddit."

She says nothing, just listens to him shuffle as he moves around, knowing exactly where he is from the sound and the feel of her bare feet on the solid concrete floor.

"And how much is this fuckin building gonna cost me?" He growls to himself, only the third he's EVER unintentionally damaged. His first day as a hero in America already wasn't looking so great.

"Nothing."

"Haaah, ya get brick and mortar blasted into your ears? Buildings don't cost nothing."

"Normally yes, it would cost something. Even one as dilapidated as this. But the city had plans to tear it down, I just saved them money on the explosives." She smiles, knowing that now Katsuki would catch on. She read his file, the braille didn't lie, he was quick to catch on but faster to temper.

"So you knew I'd blow this shit hole to hell?" He snarls, hates being so predictable, it was as good as being fuckin stupid when it came to a fight.

"I did. Your file said you react when people stand in your blind spot. Why is that?"

"Isn't that fucking obvi-" His complaint dies in his throat when his gaze meets hers.

"You've had more than a decade to adjust, in fact it was as if you hadn't even lost vision in your right eye when you got out of the hospital. Only those close to you could see it bothered you."

"Yea like fucking who?"

"Like Izuku and Kirishima. Although it was subtle then it seems to be a bigger issue now. More than it was when the injury was fresh." A tremor of rage runs through his thick frame, his mind bringing him back to putting the stinging eye drops into his dying eye, hoping he could keep some semblance of vision but soon those blurry blobs faded into nothing but inky black.

He can practically feel the stinging now, and the gauze pulling at his fresh skin, of the fish scales they tried to use to help with the decay.

How the doctors murmured they might have to amputate his crushed and twisted arm, sedating him after his violent outburst. Unwilling to give up half his quirk so young.

Although some could argue a misfiring arm was far more dangerous than a little chrome.

He scoffs, looking down at his right palm from what was at one point his non dominant eye.

"So fuckin what. I'm Dynamight. I always bounce back." He lets the I have to lodge in his throat.

"Hmm so they say." She hums, tapping her foot twice before she speaks again, "You're a good size you know with a great range. Not to mention your sixth sense is phenomenal for someone who shoves things down."

"I don't shove shit down."

"Then why do you explode? Why does it seem that your fresh nitroglycerin is at half life? So volatile so quickly." She presses on when he doesn't speak, "You know I wasn't always blind either. My quirk grew in strength at the price of my sight, however it seems your body is more adaptable than mine. Your hearing is excellent despite the deafening explosions you create but you never know when that could be lost. So your homework is-"

"Homework?" He interrupts, turning to face her before he feels something in his blind spot again, turning quickly to be greeted with a hissing cat from his sudden movement. Back arched and swiping before it runs off.

"Yes, homework."

"M here to do hero work." He stalks closer to her, standing well within her personal space.

"No, you're here to heal." She doesn't even flinch, just tilts her head up towards him out of habit to keep eye contact.

"Cut this sappy bullshit. This ain't a Hallmark movie where I come to a new country. Get yet another fucking mentor that talks to me in riddles that I somehow get and then fall in love with my next door neighbor." He growls, "Wake up this is fuckin reality. I'm here to do hero shit, you're here to send me back in three months."

She laughs at that, "Three months is impossible even for you, overachiever."

He glares down at her, holding his breath to count down from ten and then up when his temper still burns in his veins.

"Your homework will be to listen. Not with your ears but-" She taps her finger over his old scar that sits over his heart, "Here."

Bakugou thought it was a bunch of bullshit. Listen to his body? His fucking heart? Didn't she hear of him before? The media was sure to remind Bakugou that he was nothing but a heartless, selfish asshole. So what the fuck was listening to his heart going to do?

But what other choice does Bakugou have?

[lovelytayforce]

Why Oogway from Kung fu panda is the most supportive grandpa and not a huge bitch! And your fave villain is actually a huge bitch! <3

Now, I know what you’re thinking? Why the inflammatory and very obviously vague post? Because it’s being spread everywhere like wildfire and I’m tired of it. We get it, you all love your men like Tai Lung and Kai but they're not the UwU babies you HC them as, and blaming Oogway isn’t making them look cool or cuter. So, without further ado, I, Oogway’s lawyer will step up to this fandom’s unjustified hate for him just cause they got hit with the consequences of their actions. Now, let’s start with the first movie because you people can’t seem to grasp the simple lesson in the film that “Your actions have consequences.” Okay, remember that? It’s very important. And I need you to remember it okay? I’m counting on you! Alright, let’s start with the literal first scene with MR. PING AND PO: Yes, this is important, just stick with me okay? Po asks his father right at the beginning if he ever wanted anything else in his life outside noodles.

He even calls his own dream stupid, and you can see he slightly regrets it in the scene if you watch closely enough. This was the first mistake Ping made, he was repeating a cycle of denying the younger generation of their own dreams and needs without even realizing it. Now, we can actually get to our favorite turtle. Two things we have to talk about before we move on is the fact, this second scene is dedicated to foreshadowing mostly Shifu’s character, every little reaction to Oogway is a means to tell us why Shifu needs to calm down and think before he acts. Remember? “Your actions have consequences.” Now, you're probably looking at the scene like, this was just a funny joke scene but no. Shifu is distressed expecting nothing but the worst news while Oogway is calmly accessing the situation at hand, he doesn’t reprimand Shifu because he knows the pain his friend is going through, he was there for it and stopped it before it could kill him. Shifu here displays everything about the quote below, had he not rushed Oogway and merely listened to the very end he would have understood what to do. 

This is one of the rawest quotes that follow Shifu and his son throughout the first film, they are both avoiding the inevitable, trying to stop what must come. Life doesn’t bend to your will and that’s what Oogway is telling Shifu right here in the present. But what does this dummy do? Try to ruin what Oogway was doing from the get-go. 

Had Shifu not panicked and quickly told Zeng to leave then Tai Lung would have never escaped. IT'S IRONY AND say it with me, the consequences of his actions. Oogway even tells him this in the scene where he reveals it is time to pick the Dragon warrior, and Shifu makes so many assumptions that Oogway never speaks of the legend itself. Shifu makes the Dragon warrior seem bigger than life itself but Oogway never says that. If you haven’t realized: Shifu assumed things. 

He’s not actually seeing the true picture Oogway is laying out for him, he’s just waiting for that big moment, uncaring of how it affects others. (Aka the five cough his own daughter cough and even his own son cough) He’s clouded the water for everyone and only Oogway is the one who sees it for what it is. Oogway does nothing but tries to guide Shifu away from this mentality that not only destroyed his own son but himself in the process, remember the Ping scene I showed you at the beginning This is the same thing. Shifu has done nothing but projects himself onto others and that’s not only an aspect in the films, it was in the short “Secrets of the scroll” too. 

“You must let her grow into what she must be.” - Oogway. This isn’t the first time he's said this to Shifu and surely will not be the last. Shifu is by all means a stubborn character who leans very heavily toward how traditional Kung fu is taught along with its ideals. He focuses on strength, speed, and endurance above all else which is also shown in the film's training course. He does not divert from tradition, just like Ping. Oogway doesn’t hold the same ideals but respects Shifu unconditionally despite their differences. Because he respects and cares for Shifu along with his children. He does the very same with Po, never outright disagreeing because that’s not helpful to them, that won’t allow them to grow as people. Into who they are meant to be. Po goes on and on about how he sucks and Oogway is understanding, he doesn’t say “Oh you’re great just the way you are.” He allows Po to vent the way he wants to and gives him actual support when he needs it most.

Po shouldn’t be concerned with how he sucked today, because he can try again tomorrow and get better as time goes on! And that’s the truth when you start something, especially something as difficult as Kung fu with a teacher who's comfortable bullying someone 40+ years younger than them is HARD. But what Po needs to focus on is the PRESENT. He tells that to EVERYONE. To focus on the now instead of the past or the future, that’s why it’s a gift. Because you can choose who you want to be at that moment. The past is already gone, decided, and written, and the future is uncertain and leaves you with nothing but anxiety at what could be. But right here, right now. You have a choice. And now we get to the main man himself, Tai Lung aka the loser stuck in the past: Now again, you’re probably pausing like “Really man? Calling Tai a loser from the get-go, do you have no shame?” And I reply with a “No, I do not.” Because he is a loser and the film shows that. Very clearly. I know we all love the awesomeness of the escape scene but think about the context of it real quick: This FORTY-YEAR-OLD MAN, let me say this again FORTY YEAR-OLD MAN, was hard-pressed to release himself for one thing and one thing only, The scroll saddled with his revenge for something he was never promised after endangering innocents in the past and then endangering more guards for a scroll. Take that in for a moment. Doesn’t that sound like loser behavior? Don’t you think maybe he could have taken that time to, I don’t know, think about why he wasn’t chosen or if he wanted literally anything else in his life. He had no one to talk to, so he should have been using that noggin’ for something useful but he didn’t. 

Oh, lookie here! It’s “THE CONSEQUENCES OF SHIFU’S ACTIONS NEGATIVELY AFFECTING THE PEOPLE AROUND HIM!” 

Also, this man is out of his goddamn mind. Like we have to move forward here so we can realize the full delusion in this single frame. But I’m getting off-topic, we have to talk about when he was rightfully denied the scroll. Now we have to note two very important lines here because Tai Lung fans have very selective memories, so we need these screencaps

Okay, that is the first line, the second is Po’s line before this, it’s very clear even to the common folk in the Valley, Tai Lung was an ambitious, selfish, and one-track-minded fella. With the line: “He turned bad and went to jail.” Now, let’s think back for a minute about Oogway’s morals. He supports people who are kind and uplift others even though sometimes they do questionable things, Shifu bullying Po-but that’s for another conversation. But he obviously would not pick someone who is solely focused on such a selfish goal. We all know the scroll is blank, and you have to love and accept yourself for who you are in the present. Tai Lung would not be able to understand much less accept that because he wanted the scroll to change him into something Shifu told him about, not Oogway. Oogway had every right to refuse Tai Lung, that’s his school, his house, his scroll and without him, he and Shifu would be without a roof. Now, remember what I said about Shifu’s beliefs in traditionalism right? You're supposed to listen to your master as they guide you, Shifu albeit a stubborn student and Master, listened to Oogway, and Tai Lung should have followed suit, he grew up there. But no he CHOSE to ruin everyone else's day, and let me show those innocents by the way. 

HE'S LITERALLY ASKING FOR SHIFU TO COMMIT FRAUD! Tai Lung showed what his ambition truly was and Shifu didn’t see until it broke right through him literally, Tai lung doesn’t even hesitate to swat his father aside before going for the scroll before Oogway stops him and spares his life for his old friend, Shifu. Because he cares. Oogway cared about Tai Lung and let him choose who he wanted to be. Remember? Actions have consequences. Tai lung has had two instances of his life where he could have chosen to do better and what did he do? He fucked it up. Just decided to be a bitch ass sore loser instead of bettering himself which is what Kung fu is about, it’s what Po did. But you know, that’s life.  Speaking of, Shifu is mostly at fault for this. I think everyone knows that? Oogway as I said above with the short, tries his best to guide Shifu on his horrid parenting journey but such is life. I’m sure we all know someone who shouldn’t be a parent and if we could we would ban them from being around children in general. Back on topic, Shifu has a problem of not listening to Oogway as we’ve established: - Didn’t listen til he got sick to let Tigress be herself - Bullied Po and didn’t listen until Oogway died - Filled his son and daughter’s heads with untrue folklore of the Dragon warrior missing key elements such as Kindness in the memo… - Also, he tried to “Well, ACK-TUALLY” him in an argument about control. Shifu is not a very bright man. And neither is his son. Po and Ping are a direct mirror to this though in the fact that, unlike Shifu, Mr. Ping stops and realizes his son is in distress about the whole situation and does something special. He tells him the secret ingredient which is nothing but believing something is special because he believes Po is special. Shifu stopped believing in his son, which is why Oogway asked him to promise to believe and even took his meek reply of “I’ll try.” When Shifu and Tai Lung met again they couldn’t mend what Tai Lung destroyed, not even an apology could heal what his son broke inside Shifu. And Oogway knew this. Because you can’t force a peach tree to grow into anything else but what it was meant to be. No one in the Jade Palace was meant to be the dragon warrior, they should have been training for themselves but they followed Shifu. Nothing was ever promised to anyone. And again, that’s the beauty of life, you can change. Every day you change, every time you look into that blank scroll you see every little change you worked for and some you got along the way figuring it out. Tai lung does not have that though, all he has is Kung fu and that’s Shifu’s fault. Not Oogway’s, you cannot blame someone who never promised you a thing and simply told you no. You have to move on.  Tai Lung even naively states, he only thought of Shifu’s opinion, never the Master who bestows the scroll itself. He was not in the present, all he wanted was the future he was never promised and blamed everyone else for it and hurt his own father, in the process. Not once, but twice. Shifu only admitted Tai lung was not meant to be the Dragon warrior and that it was never his decision to make and even goes so far as to ask Shifu to falsify the results of who the Dragon warrior is. Shifu was too late in allowing his son to dream. Oogway had nothing to do with any of their dramas. They decided to push themselves so far instead of cherishing the present. And that’s why Oogway is the best grandpa because he doesn’t force his ideals down your throat because he listens to your troubles without downplaying how bad you feel because he believes in the power of change that we all have but accepts we don’t always take the right path. That is the true gift. The gift of change. As for Kai um idc, he was stealing people’s chi, aka killing them, and being a horrible person to people who helped Oogway in his darkest hour, so fuck him. I still love his theme but again, Kai’s actions caught up with him and he caught them tortoise's hands for being an asshole.  Bye~! Also, Shen's a bitch too.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

28

Fine Line ��� Kesha for this Ask Game

I've been hiding my anger, but bitch look at me now

I'm at the top of the mountain, with a gun to my head

Am I bigger than Jesus, or better off dead?

There's a fine line between genius and crazy

There's a fine line between broken and breaking

Spent my whole life tryna to change what they're saying about me

Sick of walking that fine line

Ficlet:

Just like the water balloon Will had overfilled last summer, El feels like she’s ready to pop. It’s like, she’s a balloon. She’s always been a balloon. In the lab, it’d been easy. Papa told her what to fill herself with, told her when to persevere, and when to pop.

Now? Everyone tells her everything all the time. In California, Jonathan had been disappointed when she’d smacked that bully in the face. But when Hopper had found out, he’d clapped her on the back and laughed, liked he was proud.

Who is right?

She hopes it’ll be easier, back in Hawkins. And it is. Max whacks ankles with her cane if anyone so much as scoffs at her, and she has Mike, and all her other friends. But math still turns to mush in her brain, and she still spends long days trying to sit still in quiet classrooms that remind her far too much of locked playrooms.

Now that the Upside-Down is gone, it’s like something in her has atrophied. Will’s flourishing without the Mind Flayer tethering him down. Like, every gate closing has awoken something in him where the shadows used to be – something talkative and confident and happy. El is happy, too. For him.

But where does that leave her? The unwilling weapon. The one to save their lives when all the chips are down. What’s the point of sitting quietly in a droll classroom compared to saving her own little corner of the world?

Hopper tells her that it will settle down within her. He rubs her shorn head roughly and tells her that thing inside her that’s always waiting to fight will grow dormant. El doesn’t believe him.

Everyone is surprised when all the windows shatter, seemingly without provocation, one day in Mrs. Click’s class while El is being reprimanded for her poor performance on a test. El’s not surprised. She’s an overfilled balloon, of course she’d burst.

Dustin gives her a look, wide eyed and panicked as everyone else begins shrieking. She pointedly doesn’t meet his gaze. There’s nothing really to say.

But word travels fast around the party. It’s not Joyce who picks her up after school – it’s Steve.

She hasn’t spent much time with Steve, but she’s heard stories. Dustin especially admires the boy, but even Mike has a little bit of admiration tucked away for him. It’s Max’s opinion that makes her get in the car, though.

Max, who’s sullen and euphoric in waves now that she’s at half-sight and half-mobility. Friends and parents have dropped out of her life in the strain, but Steve’s name falls out of Max’s mouth every other sentence. Steve, who lets her stay at his house sometimes. Steve, who goes grocery shopping with her, who helped her clean her house. Who roughhouses with Max the way no one else will anymore.

El gets in the car.

There’s upbeat music playing quietly from the speakers. He bops his head to it as he pulls away from the school.

“What’s up, Supergirl?” he asks, hands on the wheel, eyeing her from his sideways vantage point.

No one calls her Supergirl anymore. There’s nothing left to save.

“You picked me up,” El says, sullen and euphoric in waves.

Steve laughs, barking and ugly. It makes El smile down at her shoes. “Dustin called me, you know,” he says. El’s smile curls down as something pit-like sinks into her stomach.

She watches the fractals of evening light bounce around on her legs, waiting to be reprimanded. It doesn’t come. The song changes, something more droning and somber as El looks up from her feet.

Steve’s staring out the windshield, still smiling. “I still sleep with my bat under my bed, you know.” She nods, doesn’t know what to say. “And I drive around sometimes, making sure all you kids are safe.”

El feels her brow furrow as she looks at Steve. She doesn’t know him well enough to read his expression. “The Upside-Down is gone,” she says, echoing Hoper and Joyce, and Mike, and almost all her friends.

Steve laughs again, but El doesn’t think he actually finds it funny. “I know!” Steve says, still smiling. “Robin’s been saying that same thing to me, but you know what?”

Lucas had taught her about rhetorical questions, so she waits a while before realizing she should answer. “No, I don’t know what.”

He glances over at her. “I don’t feel like it’s over,” he says quietly, like it’s a secret between the two of them, before bursting out a drawn-out sigh. “Everyone’s acting like it’s all over so we should move on, but how do I do that?”

El analyzes his profile. His eyebrows are pinched but he’s still smiling. She thinks he looks sad. “I miss it,” El whispers.

Steve pulls over and turns the key in the ignition. He turns his whole body to look over at her. “The Upside-Down?” he asks.

She shakes her head. “Being Supergirl.”

His lip quirks back up, small and just on one side as he looks up at her growing-out hair before looking back down to meet her gaze. “You’ll always be Supergirl,” he says, talking through her scoff. “But it’s gotta be tough going from saving the world to flunking algebra.”

El scoffs. “I am not flunking!” she says, indignant. “I have a C!”

“Hell yeah, Supergirl!” he says, beaming as he reaches over the console to slap his hand against hers.

“Max has helped.”

Steve hums, sits, and waits to see if she has anything else to say, but she’s a water balloon, recently emptied, so she stays quiet.

He starts the car and drives.

It isn’t until he’s pulling up to her house, Hopper standing on the porch with crossed arms and a glare on his face that she speaks. “It is hard,” she says.

Steve nods, staring out into the dark woods like he’s expecting something to come barreling out of it. “I know,” he says. “Walkie me if you want me to kidnap you to go beat the shit out of the trees with me or something.”

El smiles, feels the way it stretches her cheeks almost painfully with the force of it. “Thank you, Steve,” she says, hopping out of his car with a wave.

She walks up to her house, ready now, to meet her destiny; even if her destiny is being yelled at by an overprotective Father and grounded for three weeks.

It’s still hard, but it’s a little easier when it’s shared with a friend.

[themultifandomgal]

Hi so I read your peaky blinder imagines on Wattpad so i was wondering if I could request it on here?

If I can,can u do one where the reader is the Shelby sister. So she has anger issues and one day she gets home from hanging out with her boyfriend, Isaiah. She has been dating him in secret. One of the peaky blinders found out and told her brothers, when she comes home, John, Arthur and tommy start shouting at her. She doesn’t like it so she starts to shout at them.

She ends up at the garrison drinking heavily and then the three brothers show up and find her drunk. For then she spill a secret she should have, she’s pregnant…

Shelby Sister- Anger

YN Shelby is much like her brothers, but she's probably the worst at handling her emotions. Her boyfriend Isaiah helps keep her emotions at bay. Breathing techniques help as well.

Today YN gets home after hanging out with Isaiah, she had just told him that she was pregnant, of course he was concerned about how they will deal with this since her brothers are so over protective of her. But Isaiah loved YN and knew that whatever happens he will do what he can to be by her side. YN knew she needed to tell her brothers that she had been seeing Isaiah in secret, but she knew telling them that she was pregnant wasn't a good idea. Slay one dragon at a time. YN walks through the door when shouting immediately starts

"What are you thinking YN?" Arthur yells

"Your sneaking around with Isaiah?"

"What? How did you..." YN starts to ask

"One of the peaky boys has spotted you two down by the cut"

"What..."

"Don't play dumb YN!" John yells, the one brother rarely shouts at her. At this point YN starts to get angry, while her brothers continue to yell and reprimand her she finally blows

"Shut up! All of you shut the fuck up!"

"YN Shelby! Don't you tell us to fuck up!" Tommy points at his sister

"Stop it! Stop yelling at me. Tommy you fucked Grace and married her because she was pregnant. You fucked some girl and got her pregnant before you went to war. John you fucked Martha at 16 and got her pregnant and Arthur you got married to a bitch who loved god more that you! So all of you just fucking shut up!" her brothers stand in front of her shocked that she would yell at them like this. YN storms out of the house and finds her self walking to the Garrison.

John was the first one to get worried when YN didn't come home after an hour. Normal when YN gets angry she leaves to cool off but always comes back home within half an hour. The three brothers decide to go looking for their sister asking any of the peaky boys who are roaming the streets if they have seen YN. Finally one of them let's them know that she's at the Garrison, but to be warned she's had a lot to drink. Immediately the three brothers are off to the pub where they find YN drunk, stumbling around chatting to anyone

"Oi YN" John shouts

"Look who it is! My dear brothers. My brothers who try to control my life!" YN yells. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose sighing

"YN let's go home"

"No I'm having fun"

"Your drunk"

"I'm not" YN frowns before taking another sip from her drink. Tommy, annoyed, walks over to his sister and snatches the glass off her "hey!"

"YN home now!" Arthur shouts. Groaning YN finally leaves with her brothers in silence.

Once their home YN stumbles to her room throwing herself on her bed with tears running down her face. Her bedroom door opens and in walks her brothers

"YN what's going on?" John asks sitting on the end of her bed

"I just don't know what's wrong with me and Isaiah being together, especially now that I'm pregnant I thought you would..."

"You what?" Tommy yells

"Shit I wasn't..."

"Fuck YN" Arthur rubs his hands over his face

"We're all emotional, YNs drunk so why don't we go to bed. YN sleeps it off and we can talk about this tomorrow?" John suggests

"Johns right. Go to sleep and we will talk in the morning"

The following morning YN wakes up with a killer headache but her nausea isn't from the alcohol last night or from the baby inside her. No it's the worry of what her brothers will say to her. Begrudgingly she gets out of her bed and walks slowly downstairs to see her brothers in the living room. Tommy nods at the chair in front of them where there's a glass of water on the table. YN picks up the water drinking it to quench her thirst

"Ok let's talk about this. So you and Isaiah are having a child. Does he know?" John asks

"Yeah. I wasn't meant to tell you yet. Knew it would upset you"

"So when did you plan on telling us?" Tommy asks with a cigarette in his mouth. YN shrugs not actually having an answer

"How long?" again YN shrugs in response this time to Arthur

"Well guess we're planning a wedding then"

"What?"

"Tommys right. Your pregnant. At least Isaiah is a decent bloke" John sighs

"I'm not happy this is how we found out. And I'm not happy my sister has been sneaking behind us, but if your keeping this baby, then we should get you and Isaiah married"

"You love him right?" John asks

"Yeah of course I do"

"Then you'll have no issues marrying him then?"

"No, but I'm just confused. You were shouting at me yesterday"

"We shouting because you lied" Arthur says

"So your ok with me and Isaiah"

"Not really, but not much we can do about that now" Tommy gruffly says "now you better go tell Isaiah the good news" YN stands up quickly and hugs Tommy. Yes they shouted, but they just wanted the best for their littlest sister.

[nonuggetshere]

I shared my (and my friend's ocs) that are related to PK SO-

This is A LOT and I'm kinda embarrassed but I'll fucking "cringe culture is dead" through life or so help me GOD

I like imagining backstories for characters and making cool little nonsensical and completely self-indulgent AUs

(Also for the few people subscribed to my patreon there's more stuff after what I've posted there, just scroll a bit down 👍)

F9r the record I also mangled mine and @demonicintegrity 's thoughts and ideas into one post so it's somewhat comprehensible but jsyk they contributed a lot

An AU where Adamas has her last clutch in her small form

As a refresher Amanita is White Lady's name and Ebur is Pale King's name. Adamas is Pale King's mother, though wyrms use dame and sire for their parents so that's what he calls her. I am yet to properly share Quercus but he's WL's father. Flower is my name for the Pure Vessel in this AU, Hallow is their birth name. Amaryllis is an oc, they're Flower's twin. Any other names that appear here are PK's siblings.

Also using they/it for Ebur and the rest of the family bc as wyrms they don't really have genders

Ebur and Amanita meeting while Ebur's family is travelling and Amanita still lives at the edge of her father's territory and her root system is connected with his but she's getting ready to leave hopefully in just one or two years when she's gathered enough strength and the spring's kind and abundant

Adamas' little group settles near her groove since it's brimming with life and there's not many people to get in the way or compete over resources with aside from the occasional traveller or two, and Amanita tolerates their presence for now, they give her something to do since her father is quite busy with his new seedlings now that she's grown and she doesn't have much company or things to do other than to listen to the occasional mortal passing by and watch the nature, so this small group of wyrms that's mostly composed of ones not much younger than her with all the hubris and boldness of young wyrms is the most interesting thing that's happened to her in a while

Some of them would probably push too far before Adamas had to smack them upside the head and reprimand them for ever thinking about taking over this territory, after all they're really on the larger territory of an ancient God, and even though Roots aren't known to be the most attentive of parents she still doesn't want to tempt fate and check if this one is the same by attacking his daughter

Either way, Amanita notices the younger wyrm isn't quite like the others and seems very intrigued by him

Although their first in face meeting wasn't the best, with her attacking him and managing to stab him in the ribs (you bet your ass Adamas chewed out his ass when he returned to their densite all bloody and holding his side), he kept returning to study her

Seems they both found each other intriguing

And eventually they get to talking, Ebur seemed excited to meet the first rootfolk in his life and actually to get to talk to her, he asks so many questions and she's amused with his curiosity, and eventually actually grows curious about the wyrms (and especially him) herself and asks him things in turn

They grow into unlikely friends though there's definitely more to it but neither is willing to acknowledge it yet

He often sneaks away from his family just to talk to her, and eventually they start sneaking into the more private parts of her groove with the excuse that they wouldn't want Ebur's family finding out they're friends, both of them just ignoring their glaringly obvious attraction to each other

One time Ebur brought her a kill he made and she hoped to GOD her blush wasn't noticeable (it was, not that he'd know because he was also avoiding eye contact to try and hide his own)

Ebur and the bad bitch he pulled by being autistic 💜

The group spends enough time around there for the two idiots to stop dancing around the subject and not only admit to their mutual attraction but to start to fall in love

Enough so that Ebur decides to stay when Adamas decides it's time to move on

At first she was about to talk sense into him about staying permanently in this place but he quickly corrected her

"No, no, it's not like that! I don't want to stay here permanently! I just..." He quieted down and looked away

"...You want to leave?"

"...mh..."

"Are you sure about this? Life as a lone wyrm isn't easy out there in the Wastelands, perhaps it'd be better if you stuck around until we find a suitable territory for you to stay at-"

"No, dame, I- I want to leave now. I think it's time. I love you all and I'll miss you, but...I just...I want to see what's out there for myself. Every year, every day, feels the same now; find some place, stay for a bit and hunt, move on. I- I can't live like this, it feels...suffocating."

"...You were always the curious kind, weren't you? I should have known this routine would bore you eventually," She sighed heavily and approached him, "I always knew this day would come, I just never expected it to be my youngest and smallest wyrmling that leaves the nest first..." She pulled him into a tight hug, "...Stay one last night with us, and if you're still sure about this after tomorrow's hunt I'll leave some supplies for you when we move on."

He smiled and hugged her back, "...Thank you..."

"Just promise me you'll be safe, okay?"

"You taught me well. I'll be alright, I promise."

He spends lots of time with his siblings and mother the next day, maybe Melpomene proposed she could come with since they were always the closest but he reassured her he wanted to be alone

The goodbye is very tearful, even Adamas cries and she's not the type to do that often

Ebur feels a little broken seeing them go, it feels weird being completely alone, strangely quiet too - he usually likes the quiet, but not this time. He goes to hunt to keep his mind off it then that evening he gathers his things and moves them to a densite way closer to his root's (his root, saying that makes him so giddy) and goes to share his kill with her

And that night, for the first time in their lives, he goes to sleep curled up around her amongst her roots. It does help him feel much better about having to say goodbye to his family

He spends the rest of the year in her groove with her - from summer to winter - before she's finally ready to move on next spring and he happily follows her to look for a new home for the both of them

Despite the new normal being hard to get used to at first he was still so unbelievably happy with her

And Quercus was considerably easier to hide their relationship from than his own family, considering they're on the outskirts of his territory and Ebur never saw him in person. As far as Quercus is concerned, Amanita just has a mild wyrm problem that she's handling well on her own

A few different  things could happen from then on

Could either go canon compliant or pull out one of my fav moves, a cute domestic AU where they don't found Hallownest or do it later down the line after already having children and just live for a while as a happy family

And also the Drama Flavour where Ebur ends up pregnant despite them not trying to, they say fuck it and have them but he gets very sick and she brings him to her father for help, cue him being appalled that she's partners with a wyrm and her telling him to suck a dick and she'll take care of him herself, then they have the worst luck ever after finding a brand new territory and stumble onto Ebur's family, and Adamas has some very strong opinions about him being mates with a root (she doesn't even realise he's expecting otherwise it would have been. Worse). Fucking Romeo and Juliet up in here

For the last idea, I like the idea of Adamas questioning if that root can even provide for him or any possible clutches he might have in the future and he gets so pissed off he bristles, tells her to drop it and he's done with her attitude and to get the fuck off his territory. She bristles and calls him out on being so cocky as to tell her to get out

"If you're so confident then come on, defend your territory! Kick me out yourself!"

"Stop it-"

"Come on, boy! Show me you can actually protect yourself and yours! If you want me out them force me out!"

"I'm not going to fight you, mother!"

"...Tsk, you even talk like her."

"...Just...Just leave...please."

She circles him, "You should know words won't be enough to protect your territory from intruders, and that young root definitely doesn't have it in her to do it. You promised me you'll stay safe, so show me you can actually take care of yourself!"

Instead she gets violently thrown back by a white root after Amanita returns to check up on her hubby <3

Puts herself between them, ready to snap their necks with her roots if she has to

"He told you to leave, so leave. Or should I make you, you old bag?"

"Amanita-"

Of course, it was 25% him not being willing to fight his own mother and 75% him being sick and not willing to risk the pregnancy, but he's not gonna tell her that when she reacted so negatively about him being mates with a root (and his siblings def teased him before the situation got serious)

He's gonna be SO fucking depressed about this later though

But I also just like the idea of them finding the place that would later become Hallownest and founding the kingdom together

Ebur: Babe do you want me to beat up this old slug for you?

Amanita: Oh how romantic~

Unn:(live slug reaction)

Unn: Just take the damn territory and leave me alone, you brats

I also made an entire AU with Integrity where PK moves on with his family with a promise that he'll be back next spring for her, only to realise he's expecting. And I am obsessed with this version, it's cute and domestic (in a wyrm kind of way) and I am sucker for these things.

Ebur leaves with his family, promising to return to her next spring so they can leave together, but what he DIDN'T account for was him getting pregnant

So now he has to think up an idea to sneak away and keep his pregnancy hidden until he's back with her. Very hard to do with his mother around, an old wyrm with decades worth of clutches she's reared into adulthood by herself, she sussed him out embarrassingly quickly

Ebur, trying to sneak out: 💦💦💦

Adamas, like she’s scolding a teen: where are you going at this hour?

Ebur: …. A walk to clear my head?

Adamas: do you think that excuse worked with your siblings back then?

Ebur: … no

Adamas: do you think it’s gonna work now?

Ebur: ……… no

Ebur, quickly thinking of something else: ......hunting...

Adamas: Hunting?

Ebur: Hunting.

Adamas: At midnight? With your white, glowing ass? After we just ate?

Ebur: .........I'm hungry.

Adamas: Uh-huh

Ebur, bristling: Well! I'm a grown wyrm, I can do what I want!

Adamas: Oh can you now?

Ebur: 💦💦💦

Adamas: You're an adult but I'm still this group's leader, including yours

Ebur: Yes, dame. I'm sorry, dame

He does his best to mask his scent and keep his hormones and instincts under control, tries to sleep a little further from the group, is very careful on hunts and starts eating away from them when food aggression starts kicking his ass

One time Adamas finally approached him at meal time, throwing him her portion

"Here, eat up."

He looks at her, confused, "...I...what?"

"Just eat, kid."

He hesitantly takes it and leaves it near as he continues with his portion, "Don't you need to eat also?"

"Eh, I've eaten enough. Besides, I'm not the one who's eating for more than one right now."

"HRK-"

He looks at her, horrified, and she can't help but laugh

"What? You think I haven't noticed? Come on, you could fool your siblings with your excuses but I've had plenty of clutches of my own," She pats him on the shoulder, "Come on, eat up, kid. You need to put some meat on these bones."

He sighs heavily and goes back to eating, red in the face and a little awkward, unable to look her in the eyes as she's just observing him

"...If you copulated around the time of your first heat last spring-"

"HRNK?!"

"Oh, don't be like that, you're not a child anymore. Anyway, your due date should be in winter...not the ideal time to have a clutch, but we could make this work. You'll need to eat a lot if this kid is to have any chance of survival, though," She looked back st him, "...If you want to keep it, that is."

He goes quiet, his tail curling in close, "...I...y-yeah, I do..."

"...Alright, if that's what you want."

"You seem nervous."

"...How- how could I not be? I mean, all of this, it's...it's my first brood, and if they're due in winter..."

She scoots closer to him and wraps her tail around him, "Hey...you're not alone in this, okay? You have your siblings and I, we'll take care of you and your young. It's going to be alright." And she nuzzles him gently

Obviously they figure out the children are part root, but only some time after they're born

At least now Ebur has an excuse to return to her, saying she'd have valuable input on caring for them

That doesn't stop his siblings from teasing him about possibly wanting to see her again and being in love (they're right, but he's not about to admit it)

Also the moment he accidentally let's her name slip he's not gonna hear the end of it

Adama: So you want to return to the groove?

Ebur: Yes. I mean, she taught me a lot about rootfolk, but-

Io: Uh-huh, I bet she did. Close and perso-

Ebur, slapping him with his tail: ...Anyway. She told me a lot, but still, Amanita would kno-

Adustus: YOU KNOW HER NAME?!

Ossum: OHHH, LITTLE LOVERBOY IS ON FIRST NAME BASIS WITH THE ROOT~?

Ebur: You're killing me

God can you imagine what kind of pains in the ass these cunts were when Adamas and Ebur broke the news to them

Constant teasing and asking who it was

Ebur gets no rest

Adamas takes her little shits on a training hunt again

"Why do we need to train anyway? You've taught us how to hunt seasons ago."

"I did, but not with two members down. You need to practice now before your sibling stops being able to join us on hunts."

"...two...?"

"Yes, two. It'll be safer if somebody stays behind with Ebur when he's further along and carrying for his young, so I need to know we'll be able to provide for this family with two hunters down and more mouths to feed."

"...Can't I join your hunts anyway? You hunted by yourself while pregnant, didn't you?"

"I did, but I was also alone, I had no choice. You shouldn't have to choose between your children's safety and finding food. We live as a family for a reason, what would we be but animals if we don't take care of each other? I'm not letting you or your young live like lone nomads when you have us."

They also hunt more since Ebur needs more food, especially later down the line, and if anybody complains she's gonna cut that shit down SO fast

"I don't want to hear it! Ebur and the brood they're carrying are your kin, so start acting like it and have some damn respect. Do you think Ebur would be here complaining if the roles were reversed? Do you think they wouldn't care for you when you need it? We're a family, we take care of each other, in sickness and in health. Your sibling and his children need you. If that's a problem for you, you're free to leave and live as a nomad, but as long as you follow me and are a part of this family I don't want to hear any complaining, got it?"

"...yes, dame. I'm sorry."

"Instead of apologising to me make yourself useful. And treat your siblings kinder, one day you might be the one who needs their help so you better hope your words don't come back to bite you then."

Adamas is a strict parent but very much loves her family and it's so important to her that they take care of each other <3

She's a good mum, if a little bit hard on them at times

Melponeme, loafing in front of Ebur: ….

Ebur: …. What. Go away

Melp: im not touching you

Ebur: what do you want

Melp, loafing, staring: ……….

Ebur: ………………

Melp: you’re gettin fat

Ebur: no shit it’s almost like a have a litter growing inside me

Melp, reaching over to poke his stomach:

Ebur, batting: stop that!!!

Melp: how many do you think they’re gonna be?

Ebur: I dunno

Melp: probably like. A lot of you keep growing at this rate

(And then it's just two. Absolute menace <3 won't give him a break)

Ebur, growling:

Adamas: Dear, if you keep poking at a predator like that it's gonna strike

Melp: Nahhh, they're harmle-

Ebur, pouncing on her:

Melp: !!!

"Don't be too rough with your sibling, they're expecting."

"Oh come on! They started it! They can't keep holding the pregnancy thing over our head constantly!"

Ebur sitting there like >:3

“Well they’ve got a few more months and then it’s fair game”

"Oh, so you'd beat up a new parent and leave my children orphaned? How cruel"

"I'm not gonna kill you, you maniac?!"

Also once he's much further along he digs himself a separate den and slowly moves in there, it worries his siblings but Adamas assures them it's normal, wyrms prefer to be alone in the first few days before and after giving birth

"Are you sure they're okay? Can't they stay with us?"

"Pff, would you prefer to get growled at and possibly mauled every time you come into your den? They'll be fine, don't worry."

His siblings go out hunting and gathering more often after that and finally give him lots and lots of warm and soft bedding for his new den

"Since you'll sleep alone we thought you and the baby could use some warmer bedding."

And he can't help but smile and wag his tail

Wondering if wyrms would have a word for aunt/uncle and what would it be?? Obviously not auncle, since aunt and uncle aren't wyrm temrs

Currently they don't have any, anybody beyond your parents, siblings and young are just "kin"

Maybe they'd use cousin? (As in. Also use cousin, not a replacement for aunt/uncle. I realised I worded this weird)

Half of this is Ebur's siblings fretting over him and Adamas having to keep them straight and from freaking out KDBDJRB

“GET OUT OF MY DEEENNNN”

“Oh but we worry about our poor lil sibling!!”

“FUCK OOOFFF”

Gonna get hissy and pissy and Adamas will just shake her head and say she warned them

“Can we see the babies now— UAGH”

“-HISSSSS-“

Glaring at them from the entrance of his den before the babies even arrive

"You're so lucky I'm round and slow right now"

“Hehe spherical”

“Shut the fuck up”

Also been thinking about the delivery. This sounds weird,,

TW for childbirth, pregnancy, etc, and mention of near infant death

Anyway, his siblings would notice he stopped eating, only stays in his den, and would bring it up to Adamas

Her ear just twitches and she looks over at his den, "...Seems the little one will arrive any moment, then."

"Huh?"

"How can you tell?"

"I also stopped eating like two to three days before I had you or any of my previous litters. It's normal. Just give them some space, they're going to be especially irritable now."

Then one night one of them wakes up and immediately wakes the others, as Adamas isn't in the den. They peek out to look for her and find her just sitting nearby and staring at Ebur's den

"...Dame? Why aren't you in the nest?"

"Quiet down. Do you smell that?"

They pause to scent the air

"...blood?"

"...It's been a while," She gets up and dusts herself off, "I'll go check up on your sibling, you keep watch for me. Don't come too near, he's probably stressed as is."

She approaches his den and they see her quietly talking before she disappears inside. They keep watch as promised, though all of them are fidgety and uneasy, pacing and shifting around, trying to chat to pass the timd

After what feels like forever though one of them tells them to shut up for a moment and when they do they can hear very faint cries coming from the den

They wait with held breaths and eventually Adamas stalks out of the den holding bloodied bedding (to a group of nervous wyrms looking at her like 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁 👁👁, almost makes her laugh)

"...so?"

"So what?"

"Dame, please-"

She snickers, "There's two."

They all seem excited, which makes her smile

"How are they?"

"Ebur is fine. One of the wyrmlings is strong, and the furstborn..." She trails off, swishing her tail, "They'll make it, if they survive this night."

The five visibly deflate at the news

"...Are they gonna...?"

"Only time will tell. Like I said, if they survive this night they should be okay. Don't repeat this to Ebur, though, they've had enough of hardships for one night," She turned to leave, "I'll go burry these sheets. You five, go hunt for your sibling and their young, they're going to need the strength. I'll look after them."

They hurry off, a hunt seems like a good opportunity to blow off some steam

When they return, Adamas shows them how to thinly mince the meat for the the newborns before she delivers the food to Ebur and his kids

That's pretty much the norm for the next few days, Adamas is the only one who he allows into the den so she updates the siblings on the situation and stays with him while they go hunting

The day after, after they made their hunt for the day and Adamas once again disappears into their sibling's den with the food, was probably the most stressful. The five waited for her for what seemed like eternity and immediately pounce on her for info like young wyrmlings the second she's out

"Won't you five calm your tails?! Your sibling and their young are fine."

"And the firstborn?"

"They're doing much better and seem strong. You can stop panicking."

Though they're less intense about this afterwards, everytime Adamas leaves the den she's met with five wyrms staring at her and eagerly awaiting any updates

"Do they have names yet?"

"Ebur said they did pick already, you'll learn them once you meet the younglings"

"UUUUGHHH"

"MAAAAN"

"Stop being dramatic, it's only a few more days"

The five also get an idea to make the twins little clothes so they can stay warm and cosy

They get to gift them to Ebur once they finally meet the little ones

One day, after nearly a week, Adamas leaves the den to see the five wyrms once again waiting on her and she sighs heavily before smiling

"Alright, who wants to meet the babies?"

And they all get SO excited, before she has to remind them to keep calm to not spook their sibling or his kids

They go into the den one by one, which is thankfully big enough for all of them, where Ebur is laying in the corner, curled up around two little sleepy boundless and purring to them

His siblings are just awe struck at the babies and coo to them, showering them and Ebur with so many compliments

"They look a little odd for wyrmlings though, don't they?"

Io proceeds to get very roughly jabbed in the side by Fossor

"Ow, what the hell?!"

"Don't be an ass. Obviously they're not full wyrms, idiot, they're going to look different."

Though none of them is yet to clock that they're half-root

They get the babies thick clothes so they can crawl outside the den (under incredibly strick supervision by all 7 of their family members) once they're big enough

"Ebur, quit grooming them! They won't combust into flames if they have a speck of dirt or snow on them!"

"Mrrrr"

Melpomene: So, how did you name them?

Ebur: The firstborn is Hallow and the second born is Amaryllis

Io: Hm, weird names for wyrms

Ebur: 💦💦💦

Fossor, readying to hit him again:

Hallow, crawling towards Io with intent to Bite:

Io: Ohhhh little lad on a mission, what will they do? Beware the big bad wyrm

Hallow: Grrrr

Io:*casually just rolls away*

Hallow, flopping down and looking at him offended before SCREAMING angrily to voice their displeasure at inability to bite and maim uncle: EEEAAAAAAAAA

Gonna crawl towards him with even more determination

Adustus: Snrk- Stop giving the poor kid a workout and let them bite you

Io: If they wanna bite me they should prove it by getting me the legitimate way

Adamas: that one has a strong set of lungs

Ebur: mhm

Ebur: ...Was I this loud at their age?

Adamas: Absolutely. The loudest

Ebur: .......oh

Adamas: yeah. oh. Little snot

Ebur: hey!

(Mean to him <3)

Just wait till they figure out the connection between Amaryllis and Amanita

Of course loverboy would name the baby after a flower LMAO

".....snrk"

"shut up. shut up. shut the fuck up. I dont wanna hear it. Shut your bitchass up."

Start teasing him that he is SO smitten and in love

None know just how right they are

He's gonna die or commit murder at this rate

Ebur being all "it's not like that, it's not like that" and then when he sees Amanita again they're all lovey dovey and cute

I think Adamas' group was in the groove for like 2 years so they did have time to develop a meaningful relationship, though it's still nothing compared to how they're gonna be in a few years KFBDJFH

Io: not like that my ass—

Ebur: Shut the fuck—

Amanita: :? Not like what my darling?

Adustus: he’s been swearing up and down it isn’t love and he hasn’t totally been courting you

Amanita, amused: aaaww my dear Ebur, so now you’re shy with your affections~?

Ebur, sputtering: Ami, please not in front of my family...

Ossum: AMI

Ebur: I BITE

Ossum: Yeah, I bet ~your Ami~ knows a thing or two about that, huh~?

Ebur: GRRRRR

Amanita, laughing a little: I haven’t heard you growl that loud since we first met my wyrm~!

Ossum: good gods y’all are nauseating

Adamas: Her wyrm, huh?

Ebur: NOT you too

Amanita, not helping as she nuzzles him: My wyrm~

She's having so much fun <3 He can't help but smile though

Ebur: You're...impossible, my darling

Amanita: 🥰

Adamas: So, how long have you been together?

Amanita: Officially? Only one year, but we've been courting for much longer than that~

Adamas: Oh, you're official hm? Ebur, you never told me you've found yourself a mate. Look at you growing up on me, my youngest wyrmling has a mate and children already

Ebur: My dame, please

Amanita: ....children?

Adamas: ... you didn't know?

Ebur: Hey i was suppose to surprise her with that dame!

Ebur: Plus, I only found out after I left, not like I could tell her I was-

Amanita, grabbing him: Darling, what's that about children?

Ebur: .... We have two my darling.

Amanita: We have children!?

Ebur: yes. Our...... time together has resulted in me becoming gravid. We have two healthy children

Amanita, shaking him: Show me!!

Ebur, laughing: Well, stop trying to give me whiplash and I will!

(They're so adorable it makes me sick <- Ebur's siblings probably)

Presents her with the two little guys with a big smile. Tells her their names and she kneels down to hold them both and nuzzle and give kisses and be so so emotionally happy about it

The rest of the family give them some privacy so they can have a proper reunion and Amanita can meet her children

She's so SO happy

Scoops all three of them up and nuzzles him, looks at them as if they're her whole world

"Oh, my darling, they're so beautiful, so perfect...I love them..." She whispers, her breath caught in her throat for a moment, "...I love you."

His heart skips a beat and he nuzzles in close and kisses her cheek, "I love you too..."

And the babies are gonna ruin the moment and squeaking in protest about being held <3

"ooohhh my little sprouts, I need to plant you in my den and watch you grow big and strong youre so precious~"

"wait like. Actually bury them??"

"A little yeah. They should be able to root I think"

"...hm!"

"...Unless they're more wyrm in that regard?"

"Well, they seemed to do just fine on meat, but there's no harm in trying other things. Maybe a combination will be best for them?"

"Oh dear..."

"Don't worry, my love, we'll figure it out together"

Theyre rowdy and like to run around and play

but for sleepy time they get to be buried in the dirt. Makes em giggle and keeps them warm

OH the convo between Adamas and his siblings in the meanwhile

Adustus: ...He's gonna leave, isn't he?

Adamas: Hm?

Adustus: I mean, with our group we can't stay anywhere for too long, especially in a small groove like this, we'd run out of prey. And a root wouldn't be able to keep up for long, they're stationary. And...I doubt he'd leave her, just look at them.

Adamas: ...He seems happy. It'd be good for the little ones to have both parents too.

Amanita, planting the babies for the first time:

Quercus, waking her up at ass o'clock after he sensed two new seedlings near her: 👀 👀 👀

Amanita: huh wh

Quercus: KIDS?? KIDS?? DO I HAVE GRANDKIDS PRINCESS???

Amanita: pfft. yes.

Amanita:

Amanita, internally: wait shit fuck

Quercus: oh hey that wyrm problem came back. Lemme drop by and see how my daughter is doing since im not busy

What a fucking reunion that would be huh

Adamas: I've heard you want to leave? Maybe you should come with us, then, it'd be easier for you

Amanita: Ah, but would you like to leave now? Because it's already almost the end of spring, I don't think it'd be a good idea for me to leave now, I might not survive winter if I'm not rooted down somewhere by autumn. We were planning to leave early next spring, if you'd like to live in my groove until then you're fully welcome to

Adamas: But what of your parent? Wouldn't they notice?

Amanita: It's alright, he didn't came by last time you were here for over two years, I'm sure it's fine now, he won't even notice 😊 (narrator voice he did notice)

"Hey sweetheart how are you.... doing...."

Amanita, with the family of wyrms just hanging out in her den: .......... Daaaadddddddd what a suuurrrppprriiissseee💦

Her just trying to cover up this fairly large family of wyrms

Adamas getting defensive when Quercus is questioning Amanita

Starts growling and pushes to the front of them

Quercus: Stay out of this, wyrm

Adamas: Like hell I am! I'm not letting you step all over my family or my daughter

Amanita: It's really not nece- daughter??? 🥺

Quercus: Daughter?!

Adamas: Yes, daughter, she's my child's partner so as much of a family to me as my own children!

Amanita's just trying so fucking hard not to get emotional and cry over this now

too bad Quercus is bristling at that

Amanita and Quercus are emotional over this but in completely opposite directions

Amanita has to get herself together to step between them before it ends in a fight

GOD. I AM SO EMOTIONAL OVER THIS. AMANITA BEING ACCEPTED INTO HIS WYRM FANILY AFTER THEY SEE HOW MUCH SHE AND EBUR LOVE EACH OTHER 🥺 SO CUTE

She gets to root in and do some wyrm watching with her tubers

Amanita, to the kids: look how silly your father can be. Look, watch

Amanita, wiggling a root:

Ebur: 👁️👁️

His siblings watching him paw at the root

Adustus: ...Dude...

Fossor: Good fates he's domesticated

Adamas: …… oh how the mighty fall

She always knows how to embarrass him in front of his family 🥰

Zooming through her roots to play while Adamas wonders how he inherited such weird quirks

Adamas: I should have judged my mates better, what is this...

Ossum: hey they're the only one Like That

Melp: yeah we’re normal about things

Ebur: Snrk- Yeah, just wait till you find your own mates

Io: I think you're just weird, actually

Ebur: At least I have a mate and children, you lonely ass

Amanita delights in how silly the tubers are. Truly the most delightful thing

Ebur's family think it's funny how the twins have been dubbed the tubers since they came here

But hey, it fits

I bet Amanita sometimes just casually steals her wyrm away

Just picks him up with her roots like "I'll be taking that~"

They're so lovely dovey it's nauseating

Even Adamas teases him about her swooping him off his feet

And he can't keep the smile off his face when he talks about her or hide the blush when they tease him so he really can't hide it

Ebur and the tubers also sleep in her den, keep in her tangle of roots.

The others can set up a den as they please

He at first set up a den near her instead of with her but it was literally abandoned on night one

It's his den in spirit

The second his siblings realise its been abandoned and how fast he's getting teased AGAIN

“Shouldve just saved the time and effort and not done that altogether.”

“I didn’t ask you”

Adamas: No, I bet they tried really hard to use that den but really couldn't help themself be apart from her, didn't you?

Ebur: ...grrrr

Adamas: Snrk, seems I got it right

Amanita: you made a separate den from me???

Adamas: case n point

Ebur: Ooooh, God forbid I want to sleep with my partner! You insufferable twats

Adamas: You’re such a fucking sap

Amanita: Oh but they're my sap~ And I think it's so cute~

Gets a collective "Bleh" out of them

The two looking over their tubers playing with Ebur's siblings

Amanita: Oh, these kids are great, I love them so much

Ebur: Mhm

Amanita: We should have more~

Ebur, sputtering: Amanita!

Io: HEY WE HEARD THAT YOU FUCKING WEIRDOS

Amanita: what? You didn’t think I was going to want just one clutch did you love?

Ebur: w-what—

Amanita, curling around him: I have an urge for my seeds to spread my wyrm~

Io, gagging:

Fossor: What the hell, you two

Ebur: Not- not in front of my family, my love...

Io: literally traumatizing. What is wrong with them both

The rest is pretty much just VERY half assed future stuff and this is long enough as is 😐 So like. Yeah.