#replayed chapter 3 yesterday

[raweggs9-5]

Your Turn to 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴: Death Game by Brainrot

[mononijikayu]

bed chem — nanami kento.

“Are you free next week?” Your breath hitched, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the tables on you. It was exactly what you had been thinking, the question that had echoed in your head. He had beaten you to it, but his tone told you this was no ordinary invitation. There was more behind that simple question—an invitation to something deeper, something physical. You raised an eyebrow, smiling to yourself, already knowing your answer. “I think I could be.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au;

WARNING/S: romance, love at first sight, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, fingering, p to v sex, orgasm, humor, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, nanami kento is that MAN, reader really wants to have bed chem with nanami <3;

WORD COUNT: 4.8k words.

NOTE: i keep thinking about how much i wrote and how it could be a treat for the entire october in terms of kinktober but i think i realize i'll be too busy starting the 11th, so i won't be showing up to anything, so i'll just be doing all this stuff i can now and posting some in between so i can at least have something for yall, you know? also im realizing my actor sukuna series and this is a minor part of it. its such a good story!!! if you wanna read it the latest chapter is here chapter four; anyway, i hope you can feel my love through out. i'll be seeing you soon enough, though. wish me luck on my upcoming exams <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

kayu's playlist — side 1500;

YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO FORGET THIS NIGHT. And you were happy about that thought. You remember the day you met him vividly, as if it happened just yesterday. You were dressed in a sheer, ethereal gown, moving gracefully through the grand corridors of a buzzing fashion venue.

Models, designers, and staff rushed around in a whirlwind of fabric and creativity, preparing for the show. You were part of that beautiful chaos, your mind focused on the evening ahead. But then you saw him.

Nanami Kento, the famous actor.

He stood out, calm amidst the frenzy, wearing a sharp white jacket that contrasted with the hectic energy around you. His sandy-blonde hair fell neatly into place, and his tall, sturdy frame exuded a sense of quiet confidence.

You exchanged brief pleasantries—just a moment's conversation—but the connection felt palpable. His presence lingered in your thoughts long after. You can’t help it. He was just that enigmatic. He was just that awe-strikingly beautiful.

Later that evening, a friend of his reached out, suggesting the two of you connect. You think that maybe they think you guys are going to be good for each other. Or maybe you could just be friends.

Who knows? You hadn’t expected it, but before you knew it, there was a message on your phone from Nanami Kento himself. And just like that, you found yourself scrolling through his texts, your pulse quickening with every new notification.

Who's the cute guy with the white jacket and the thick accent? The thought danced in your mind, replaying your brief interaction. You wondered if you were imagining it, but something told you this connection was real.

He wasn’t just like any other guy you’ve dated. A lot about him was already an improvement, but you were sure, one hundred percent — he would be everything. Everything that you could ever want in a man. 

Maybe it was all in your head, just a fleeting crush, but you couldn't shake the feeling. You have never felt like this before.  You began to picture more than just idle conversation. You bet the two of you would have incredible chemistry—on all levels.

Your thoughts spiraled into fantasies, growing more vivid with every passing moment. You imagined him picking you up with ease, spinning you around like you were weightless, his strong hands firm but gentle. It just made sense, didn’t it? The way he looked at you, the way his words were always so calm and collected, but with an underlying intensity that pulled you in.

There was chemistry—bed chem, as you started to call it in your mind.

You saw it all clearly: the way he’d pull you close, lower you down, his voice teasing but sweet. And his hands—how they might trail over your skin with a deliberate touch, a mix of sweet and sinful. You were obsessed with the idea. He didn’t even need to say anything when you saw him, the look in his eyes was enough to spark that connection.

You imagined asking him, casually, Are you free next week? You were certain that if you met again, everything would fall into place. You’d fit together seamlessly, like two puzzle pieces made for each other. Your fantasies painted the perfect picture: soft sheets, the thermostat set just right—maybe at 69—and the two of you in sync, moving as if you’d done this a thousand times before.

You saw him later that night at the after-party, his blue eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. Your heart skipped a beat. Nanami wasn’t just an actor anymore, not just a face from the big screen or a billboard. He was real, standing right there, closing the distance between you.

As he approached, you couldn’t help but think, I bet we’d have really good bed chem.

The thought made you smile to yourself, a secret desire that hung in the air, just waiting to be fulfilled.

He moved closer, his stride confident but unhurried. The noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, the music and chatter dissolving as your attention zeroed in on him. You could feel the air between you thicken, an unspoken pull drawing you together. Nanami’s eyes never left yours, his intense gaze making it clear he hadn’t forgotten your brief encounter earlier in the day.

He stopped just a few steps away, close enough that you could see the faintest hints of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. You exchanged a polite smile, but beneath the surface, the tension was palpable. It was as if every look, every subtle movement, was laden with meaning. Your heart raced, but you kept your composure.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” he said, his voice smooth, with that same deep cadence you had replayed in your mind over and over again.

You offered a light laugh, something casual, but even the smallest exchange felt charged. “Fashion world is small, I guess.”

The conversation was polite, yet every word held weight. You both knew there was something more bubbling beneath the surface. And that’s when it happened—he leaned in, just a fraction, and his voice lowered, the faintest hint of something playful lacing his words.

“Are you free next week?”

Your breath hitched, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the tables on you. It was exactly what you had been thinking, the question that had echoed in your head. He had beaten you to it, but his tone told you this was no ordinary invitation. There was more behind that simple question—an invitation to something deeper, something physical.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling to yourself, already knowing your answer. “I think I could be.”

Nanami Kento chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming. It was a small moment, but it felt like a confirmation—like a prophecy about to be fulfilled. You both lingered in the silence for a beat longer than necessary, the electric tension between you undeniable.

As the night went on, the party flowed around you, but your attention never strayed far from him. Each glance, each word exchanged, only built on the anticipation. By the time you said your goodbyes, you were already planning out the next week in your head.

When you finally parted ways, your phone buzzed almost immediately. A message from him.

Next week, then.

You smiled, already thinking about how things would unfold. In your mind, you could see it—how he’d pick you up like it was nothing, his strength and control so effortless. You pictured the way he’d pull you close, then spin you around, always so deliberate but never rushed. The chemistry was undeniable, it was practically written in the stars. Bed chem, the kind that left no room for hesitation.

And when that moment finally came, you knew everything would fall into place, just like you imagined. The perfect rhythm, the thermostat set just right, every movement in sync.

It was only a matter of time.

The days that followed felt like a slow burn, each one stretching out as you found yourself replaying that moment over and over. The anticipation built, winding tighter with every passing thought of him. Every time your phone buzzed, your pulse quickened, hoping it was another message from Nanami, and more often than not, it was.

His texts were short, simple—never too much, but just enough to keep the flame alive. He didn’t need to say much for you to read between the lines. Each message held a certain calm confidence, like he knew exactly what he was doing, just like when you saw him at the party.

Each message was a spark, feeding the fire of your fantasies. Your mind wandered constantly, imagining every possible way the encounter could unfold. You knew it wouldn’t be rushed—it was never rushed with someone like Nanami. Everything about him was measured, thoughtful, intentional.

How’s your week?

Thinking about that conversation.

Looking forward to next week.

By the time the day finally arrived, you could feel your nerves dancing in your chest, excitement pulsing beneath your skin. You chose your outfit carefully, something that balanced elegance with subtle suggestion. You wanted to look as effortlessly composed as you imagined he would be.

When you arrived at the restaurant where he had suggested you meet, the atmosphere was warm, dimly lit, and intimate. Nanami was already there, sitting at a table near the window. He looked up as soon as you walked in, his eyes locking onto yours immediately, that same intensity you remembered from the party.

As you approached, he stood to greet you, his hand resting lightly on your back as he leaned in for a polite kiss on the cheek. His touch was brief but electric, and you felt the heat rise in your chest.

“You look stunning, darling.” he said, his voice deep and smooth, just as you remembered.

You smiled, brushing off the compliment with a modest shrug, but the way his eyes lingered told you he wasn’t just being polite. The dinner itself was a dance, every word exchanged adding to the tension that simmered between you. You talked about the show, your careers, little moments from your lives—but beneath it all, there was the unspoken promise of what was to come.

It wasn’t long before the two of you found yourselves alone, walking down the quiet city streets. The cool night air did little to cool the heat that was growing between you. His hand brushed yours as you walked, a casual but deliberate touch that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, as if on cue, he stopped, turning to face you. His eyes held yours for a long moment, the city lights casting shadows over his sharp features.

“Should we continue this somewhere more private?” His voice was calm, but there was a subtle edge to it, the tension in his question making your breath catch.

You nodded, your heart racing as he reached for your hand, his grip firm but gentle as he led you toward his place. The walk was quiet, the air thick with anticipation. When you finally arrived, it felt like the world had slowed down, the moment you had been waiting for was finally here.

YOU WERE ASTOUNDED HOW SUAVE HIS EXISTENCE IS. The sight of his apartment took you by surprise, sleek and minimal yet warm, much like him. Everything was perfectly arranged, clean lines and subtle comfort that mirrored his understated charm. You couldn’t help but admire him, drawn in by everything he was. The more you were around him, the more you wanted—his presence, his touch, his everything.

He glanced at you, his gaze never wavering as he slipped off his jacket, hanging it neatly over the back of a chair. In an instant, he was standing before you, hands on your waist, drawing you close with a quiet, commanding energy. The world outside faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in the dimly lit room.

His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm as he whispered, "I’ve been thinking about this all week." 

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips found yours. The kiss was slow at first, deliberate, as if savoring the moment. You could feel the excitement become even more palpable in you.

Each movement of his mouth felt carefully measured, like he had been imagining this for far longer than you realized. His hands moved with an easy confidence, sliding across your body, each touch making you feel as though he had memorized every inch of you.

When he lifted you, it felt seamless, effortless, as though you weighed nothing at all in his arms. He carried you to the bedroom, his strong grip both protective and possessive.

There was an undeniable chemistry between you—every brush of his skin against yours, every touch electric and charged with desire. His movements were slow, savoring the build-up, as if he had waited too long for this moment to rush through it.

Your breaths came out shallow and uneven as his lips moved from yours, down the length of your neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake. Each press of his mouth against your skin felt deliberate, purposeful, sending sparks of heat coursing through you. 

His scent filled the space between you, rich and heady, mixing with the warmth of his body as he pressed closer. Every inch of you was aware of him—the solid strength of his frame, the way his breath hitched slightly as his hands roamed over you.

Kento’s fingers grazed the curve of your waist before tightening on your hips, pulling you against him with a quiet but undeniable hunger. The sensation of his body molded so tightly to yours made your heart race, your skin tingling with anticipation. 

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it was impossible under the weight of his touch, his presence. His knee nudged between your thighs, parting them with a gentle yet insistent pressure, the friction sending a fresh wave of desire flooding through you.

"You feel so good, sweetie." he whispered, his voice low and rough, filled with want.

A soft moan slipped from your lips as his hands roamed lower, teasing the edge of your clothes before slipping beneath the fabric. His fingers dug in, just enough to make you gasp, his touch hot against your skin. The sensation of him—his rough palms gliding over your bare skin, the tension coiling between you—was intoxicating, leaving you breathless.

You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your neck, clearly pleased with the effect he was having on you. "I love hearing you like that, sweetie." he murmured, his breath warm and teasing as his mouth hovered near your ear. "Don’t hold back."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your body arching toward him as his fingers dipped lower, exploring you with an eagerness that made you ache. You gasped, unable to stop the sound that escaped your throat as his fingers slipped inside you, moving with a skill that left you trembling.

"Oh—Kento. Oh, baby….." you whimpered, the intensity of the moment overwhelming you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as your body pressed closer to his, desperate for more of his touch. He groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating through you.

His fingers moved inside you with purpose, every stroke calculated, every flick of his wrist sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. His thumb found the sensitive bundle of nerves that made you cry out, your hips bucking instinctively against him.

"God, you’re so responsive. I like that." he growled, his voice rough with desire. His free hand gripped your waist, holding you steady as his fingers moved faster, building a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge of control.

"I want you to come for me, sweetheart." he breathed against your ear, his voice low and commanding.

You couldn’t help it. The way he touched you, the way he knew exactly what you needed—it was too much. Your body responded without hesitation, muscles tightening as pleasure coiled deep inside you, ready to snap. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, broken and breathless, as you reached that sweet crescendo, your body trembling in his arms.

Kento didn’t want to stop, didn’t slow, as you rode the wave of pleasure. His fingers stayed inside you, coaxing every last bit of sensation from you, until you were left breathless, trembling, and utterly undone in his arms.

Kento’s fingers slowly withdrew, leaving you sensitive and aching, but he wasn’t done. His sharp gaze darkened as he looked down at you, his breath hot against your skin. He shifted, positioning himself between your thighs, and you felt a fresh rush of heat flood through you as his hands gently spread your legs wider, exposing your most sensitive, intimate places to him.

"You look incredible, slick like this." he murmured, his voice husky with desire. His eyes roamed over your body, lingering on every curve and soft line before settling on the glistening heat between your legs. The way he looked at you, so intent, so focused, made your heart race even faster.

Without a word, he lowered his head, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh with soft, teasing kisses. You shuddered beneath him, anticipation buzzing through your veins as his mouth inched closer to where you needed him most.

When his tongue finally flicked against your sensitive folds, you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through you. His touch was gentle at first, soft and exploratory, as if he was savoring the moment. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he took his time, each lick and kiss slow and deliberate.

"Kento—" you moaned, your voice breathless and needy. His hands slid up your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you steady, his mouth working against you with a precision that drove you wild.

"Mm, s’ good." he hummed against you, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh wave of sensation through your core. His tongue swirled over your clit, slow and deliberate, before he sucked gently, and the world around you seemed to blur as pleasure bloomed deep in your belly.

"You taste so sweet. So so sweet." he growled at you, his voice low and full of hunger. He didn’t give you a moment to recover, his mouth returning to its work, tongue stroking over you in long, languid movements that left you trembling beneath him.

Your hands gripped the sheets, your body writhing against his mouth as he worked you closer to the edge. Every flick of his tongue, every soft press of his lips had you teetering on the brink, the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you.

"Please, please." you whimpered, your hips bucking against his face. "Don’t stop, Kento—"

He growled softly in response, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you still as he intensified his pace. His tongue moved faster, more insistently, flicking and stroking your clit with a pressure that made you cry out. You could feel yourself unraveling, your body trembling uncontrollably as he pushed you closer and closer to release.

The heat inside you built with every stroke of his tongue, every soft moan he let out against you, until you couldn’t hold back any longer. Your body tensed, your muscles tightening as the pleasure overwhelmed you, and with a final, desperate cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you in waves.

Kento could only find himself addicted in your taste, his mouth continuing to work against you, drawing out every last bit of your orgasm until you were trembling, breathless, and utterly spent beneath him. Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal, and he looked up at you with a satisfied, almost possessive smile.

"You’re incredible, sweetie." he whispered, his voice rough and low as he moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again in a slow, heated kiss. You could taste yourself on him, and it only made you want him more.

"Kento..." you breathed, your voice barely audible but full of want. The way you said his name made him pause, his eyes darkening with desire as they met yours.

He leaned in again, his lips hovering near your ear, his voice deep and rough. “Gonna keep making you feel good, sweetie.” 

His thumb brushed against your lower lip before claiming your mouth again in a kiss that was no longer soft or patient but filled with raw, undeniable hunger. His need for you was palpable now, every kiss, every touch pushing you both closer to the edge.

The night unraveled slowly, deliberately, as if time itself bowed to the intensity of the moment. His movements, once restrained and careful, had given way to a raw passion that filled the air with a palpable heat. The soft glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains cast fleeting shadows on his face, highlighting the quiet hunger in his eyes as he gazed down at you.

His lips, warm and persistent, traced a slow, deliberate path over the curve of your neck, sending shivers cascading down your spine. Your breath hitched as his mouth moved lower, each kiss searing your skin with a promise of what was to come. 

His fingers followed, brushing against your skin with the lightest of touches, drawing a soft gasp from you. Every time he whispered your name, his voice low and filled with desire, it felt like the room itself pulsed in response, his words sinking into your very core.

“God, you’re so beautiful, sweetie.” he murmured, his breath hot against your collarbone, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your heart race.

Your body arched beneath him, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation building with every gentle caress. He paused for a moment, hovering above you, his gaze locked with yours, the weight of his control making your pulse quicken. It was as if he could sense every thought, every want, every need—knowing exactly how to unravel you. And you, caught in the tide of his desire, could do nothing but surrender.

“Please...” you breathed, the word slipping from your lips before you could even stop yourself. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes remained focused, intent.

His hands moved lower, his touch no longer teasing but commanding, each movement calculated to drive you closer to the edge. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, the anticipation almost unbearable as his lips brushed against your ear, sending another wave of heat through your body.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” he whispered, his voice a dark promise that sent a jolt of desire straight through you. And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity of delicious torment, he positioned himself above you, his body pressing against yours in a way that made you ache with need. “Doin’ so good for me already, aren’t you?”

When he entered you, it felt like the culmination of everything—the tension, the desire, the quiet longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long. A soft moan escaped your lips as he filled you completely, his movements slow and deliberate, each thrust deep and steady, leaving you breathless.

Your hands found his back, your nails digging in as you clung to him, the intensity of it all building between you like a storm ready to break. His breath was ragged now, mingling with yours in the heated air, every thrust a silent declaration of the connection that bound you together.

“Don’t stop, Kento…. Don’t…Oh—” you whispered, your voice breaking as he moved faster, his control unraveling just enough for you to feel the full force of his desire. His lips found yours again, his kiss rough and hungry, matching the rhythm of his body as you moved together, lost in the heat and the need for more.

Each movement, each breath, felt like an unspoken promise, his body telling you everything he couldn’t say aloud. In that moment, there was no space for hesitation, no room for anything but the overwhelming intensity of him, of you, of the way you fit together so perfectly.

When you finally came, it was everything you hadn’t known you needed. Kento’s name fell from your lips over and over, a soft chant as waves of pleasure washed over you, your body tightening around his. The intensity of it left you breathless, your fingers clutching him as if afraid to let go. Moments later, he followed you, his body tensing as he found his own release, his low groan sending shivers through you all over again.

For a long time, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the quiet, shared breaths of two people completely undone by the moment. He pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively, his warmth enveloping you as you lay tangled together, the weight of what had just passed between you still lingering in the air.

Finally, he broke the silence, his voice soft but filled with satisfaction. “Well, I think you got your answer.” 

“Oh? About what?”

“We have bed chem.” He grins at you, kissing your shoulder. 

You blinked and then laughed.

You could feel your heart still racing, and looked up at him, knowing that this moment was just the beginning.

epilogue 

The sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets that barely covered your body. You stretched lazily, feeling the soft, comforting weight of the blankets and the familiar presence of Nanami beside you.

His arm was draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling steadily as he slept. The peaceful moment was too perfect to pass up, so you quietly reached for your phone, snapping a quick picture of the two of you in the soft morning light.

The sheets barely covered your bodies, your bare skin visible beneath the white fabric. The scene was intimate, cozy, and full of the quiet warmth of a morning spent wrapped in each other’s arms. You couldn’t resist adding a cheeky caption before posting it online:

“Come right on me, I mean camaraderie.”

The double entendre made you giggle quietly as you hit "post" knowing it was bound to get some playful reactions. You leaned back into the pillows, snuggling against Kento, who stirred slightly at your movement, his hand tightening around your waist.

“What are you up to?” he mumbled sleepily, his voice rough from sleep. His eyes opened just enough to catch your mischievous grin.

“Nothing… Just posting a little morning memory, darling.” you teased, unable to contain the laughter bubbling up inside you. Kento’s brow furrowed, clearly suspicious but too tired to press further.

It didn’t take long for the comments to start rolling in. Within minutes, his phone buzzed repeatedly on the nightstand. Kento could only feel himself groaning, reaching for it, and as soon as he saw the notifications lighting up the screen, his eyes widened in realization.

“You didn’t…?” His voice trailed off as he stared at the picture you had posted, the cheeky caption front and center.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, watching as Nanami’s expression shifted from confusion to mild horror, a faint blush creeping across his cheeks. He scrolled through the comments, and you could see the flood of teasing messages from his castmates already coming in.

@/GojoSatoru: Nanami, my man! Didn’t know you had this side to you! 😂

@/Geto Suguru: Yo, Kento…….You really kinky IRL, huh?

@/HaibaraYu: Is that what we call ‘teamwork’ now? Guess I’ve been doing it all wrong… 😏

@/IeiriShoko: Honestly? Kinda iconic. But also, never gonna let you live this down.

Kento could feel his blush deepened as he kept scrolling, his lips pressed into a thin line, clearly flustered. His hand ran through his hair in frustration, and he glanced at you with an exasperated but fond look.

“I can’t believe you posted that, sweetie.” he muttered, shaking his head as more notifications flooded in. “They’re never going to stop teasing me about this.”

You couldn’t stop giggling, leaning over to kiss his cheek, which was now bright red. “Come on, it’s cute. They’ll forget about it soon enough… maybe.”

Kento groaned again, but there was a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer. “You’re impossible, hm.” he said, though the warmth in his voice made it clear he wasn’t actually upset. He kissed your forehead softly, the tension in his body relaxing as he resigned himself to the teasing. “Too impossible.”

“I don’t mind being impossible if it makes you blush like this.” you teased, running your fingers through his hair, enjoying the rare sight of Kento looking flustered.

“Don’t push your luck, sweetie.” he replied, though the way his arms wrapped around you betrayed the affection behind his words. He sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I guess I’ll have to get used to being the subject of their jokes for a while.”

You grinned, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’ll make it up to you, promise.”

Nanami chuckled softly, the sound low and comforting. “You already have, sweetheart.” he murmured, his hand brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the teasing forgotten as the moment between you became tender again.

“I don’t care what they say, though.” he added quietly. “All that matters is this. Us.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the teasing moment giving way to a warmth that spread through your chest. You snuggled closer into his embrace, feeling the steady beat of his heart against yours, and smiled.

“Good. So do I.” you whispered, kissing him again, the teasing fading into the background as the two of you enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the morning.

Nanami Kento could feel his phone buzzing again, but this time, neither of you bothered to check it. Let them tease—it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, finding comfort in the simple joy of being together.

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana. 

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds. 

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen. 

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks. 

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him. 

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds. 

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright. 

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too. 

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.  

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there. 

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age. 

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs. 

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk. 

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

 Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?” 

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?” 

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion. 

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday. 

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table. 

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle. 

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?” 

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better. 

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!” 

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle. 

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn’t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water. 

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher. 

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass. 

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed. 

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself. 

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days. 

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you. 

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track. 

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons: 

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you. 

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace. 

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words. 

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back. 

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt. 

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern. 

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. 

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them. 

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room. 

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie. 

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same. 

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side. 

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore. 

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had. 

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot.  “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss. 

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

--

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @dylanmunson @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday

[thefandomsfervent]

Viktor x Reader Personal Pigments (Part 9) -Lavender Tinted Gesso

Okay so I said this like 2 chapters ago, but this is the longest chapter now. Find my imagine that inspired it here. Previous and next chapter will be linked at the bottom. Thank you for reading <3

╔═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╗

Viktor is annoyed, a feeling he has grown quite familiar with these past few days. No one had done anything to cause it, that he could identify anyway. That did not stop him from being annoyed with Jayce for making him go rest. He knew that his partner meant well, he knew that it was needed. But it didn’t change the fact that they were finally making progress and putting that roll on hold, even for a few hours, felt like an impossibly wrong decision. 

When you mentioned wanting to feel connected to the process, your process, something clicked in him. Especially after that passage he had shown Jayce. They wanted to improve lives with Hextech, but they needed to know how to do it. With the more they learned about magic and runes, they were getting closer to solutions for all sorts of problems. Piltover was supposed to be the ‘city of progress’. They needed to find ways to connect people. If Hextech could be used for travel it would blast things wide open for medicine and education. His mind was running all over again with the potential for solutions. 

Still, he settles in his bed this time instead of the couch. The covers are soft on his skin. His head is heavy on the pillows. If he slept for more than the agreed upon 5 hours, he knows that no one would be upset. He does truly trust Jayce to find answers to the questions he’s posed. His eyelids are heavy already. Were his eyes always this dry?

“Viktor?” He ignores the sound of your voice in his head. He had a tendency to replay thoughts, sounds. “That he liked.” The frown that settles there is deep, it pulls at his cheeks. Viktor turns with a huff, landing on his good leg as he lays on his side. He’d been falling asleep to that sound since that night. He thought it would pass after that first time, and that the weird guilt would not be so heavy in his chest when he saw you. But you were there the next day, all soft smiles and patiently explaining your process to Jayce. Giving him knowing looks. He did not notice the way you poked at the drying sludge at your station. He did not notice your disappointment when it hadn’t been fully dried on the second day. 

“Bio-material always clogs up filters and holds moisture.” Jayce had said to you when you sighed over it. You told him you knew, but admitted patience was not your strong suit. Information he did not hold on to. 

“Ridiculous.” It slips out in a whisper, caught by the wall in front of his face. “This was ridiculous.” He lays flat on his back now, the ceiling staring back at him. It doesn’t match his scowl. And despite the way annoyance is pooling as tension in his jaw, he closes his eyes again. “Viktor?” It was like an ear worm he couldn’t get rid of. A beetle burrowed under his skin. It replays again, the moment when you woke up. Golden light and swirling dust and dried drool. There was nothing special about that moment, but it haunts him anyway. He falls asleep.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The wood had made it to the studio yesterday, and so did the sonophone from your room. You’d be damned if you had to work with nothing but the sounds of your struggling. Your record collection was small, mostly instrumentals of varying genres that you had grabbed over the years. It was hard to justify expanding when you had so much work to do, especially now that most of your work was done with other people around you. Today you could treat yourself to the background melodies. Because you were punishing your hands for your career choice.

You had managed to get the wood cut to size. That was honestly easier than you had thought. The frame took maybe 4 hours to put together, drying time of the wood glue included. You even got the support bars in place. But it did mean that you had to face the real trials ahead. Stretching the canvas.

Canvas stretching was an arduous process, lots of crawling around on your hands and knees. Pulling and pulling and pulling the fabric taut over the edge of the wood. Pulling that meant the joints in your hand were screaming two hours in. You had to move around all four sides, all four corners, and the spaces in between them to keep the surface even. Don’t get you started on the folding in the corners for hidden edges. Curses were muttered under your breath every few minutes. Occasionally yelled, echoed back at you by the walls. 

Pulling, letting go, pulling, letting go, crawling, hammering in, pulling, letting go, pulling, letting go, hammering in. Focus only for the task in front of you. You didn’t hear the knock on the door, or when it slowly opened and tentative steps made their way in. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It took some convincing (bribing) to get Viktor to come with him. Jayce had told him about your note the day before and he had seemed uninterested in visiting. 

“We have work to do.” Viktor is still looking through books when Jayce meets him in the lab. Seemingly settled in his chair.

“Getting our notes in order is hardly work. And something we can definitely do over there.” 

He gets a sigh. Viktor is gathering notes and papers into a folder. It’s not heavy but it is overfilled by the time Jayce adds his collection to it too. 

“You have the drinks, yes?” He smiles at that. Jayce nods and raises the carrier. Three drinks nestled together, all iced, as it was starting to warm up. Spring was fast approaching Piltover, some would argue that the season was already here. The walk to your studio is filled with a lot of sounds. And smells. Most of the doors are wide open, laughing and music in some. Mostly the smell of turpentine and various oils that waft towards them. Windows were flung open but it did little to quell the strength. 

“Less ventilation here than in our labs,” he notes aloud. Viktor simply nods in agreement, looking the walls up and down. The two of them were curious, there were more artists involved in this program than they thought. You had not really spoken much about the Institute or your peers. Jayce is holding the note, making sure to count the doors on the right side of the hall while Viktor peeks into whatever empty rooms they pass. Cane in one hand and a folder of notes in another. As they approach what should be your door, they can hear banging. A soft repetitive noise that gets louder as they close the distance. He looks at Viktor when they get to your door, it’s closed. There’s another bang, the sound sharp and dull at the same time. 

“Are you fucking kidding me??”

It’s muffled by the door, but it’s definitely your voice. Jayce looks to Viktor, brows raised and an almost laugh escapes him. Viktor looks back, a little less bewildered, he shrugs in response. He gestures with the folder for him to knock on the door, face contorting as if to say “this was YOUR idea”. It was, but now he’s doubting himself. You seemed busy. He knocks and it’s drowned out by a resumed banging. After a few seconds he tucks the note under his arm and slowly turns the knob. 

Once the door opens they can hear music. You don’t turn to face them. You’re… on the floor? Nails all around you, a hammer in your hand. There’s a huge wooden frame in front of you. Fabric, canvas? Canvas in your other. 

“Whatchya doin’?” Jayce speaks first. Sing-songy and sweet. You whirl around, a nail in your mouth hitting the floor as you lower the hammer. 

“What are you guys doing here?” Your smile is bright and surprise honeys your voice. There is a redness in your cheeks. From frustration or from working. He isn’t sure. Viktor looks away to the very empty walls of your studio. You stand up to greet them, grimacing at the numbness in your knees and calves. 

“You’ve had a studio this whole time? Then why work with us?” Yet another question that Viktor asks you, that he had not meant to ask. It comes out harsher than he intends. Your smile falters but doesn’t fall. 

“I thought you knew I had one?” Jayce nods, he knew of it from Heimerdinger and Mel. Viktor doesn’t answer, just continues to look around your very empty space. You answer his question anyway.

“I want to learn about both of you. Good art is infused with many things, but knowledge is one of them. I want to know you both past the invention, it brings the work to life.” This was the first time you’ve stood in who knows how many hours since you’ve started. Your joints felt stiff as you stretched, standing on the tips of your toes to get the feeling back in your body. Jayce also looks away as your top lifts when your arms are reaching for the ceiling. He’s less subtle with it though, and you notice the way his eyes dart wall to wall. Trying not to laugh, you speak. “To answer your earlier question Jayce, “ he jumps at his name, “I’m building a canvas for the painting.”

He and Viktor look at your project on the floor. The frame seemed sturdy. You were almost done, dozens of nails along the sides. You move your sonophone out of the chair closest to you. The music skips a little when you jostle it. Asecond chair opposite had cut wooden pieces and a saw. 

“You built this yourself?” Jayce puts the drinks down on a clean table and circles it. He steps around it slowly, careful of the nails on the floor . He can appreciate good craftsmanship as a blacksmith. The studs were evenly spaced, your canvas was loose in maybe four or five spots where you obviously needed to hammer in the last of your nails. “It looks really good! Didn’t realize it was going to be so big.” You hum noncommittally as you empty the other chair. Viktor approaches it too. Setting his folder down by the drinks, he leans against a wall after walking around. There were red spots around all the edges. Spots that were almost as evenly spaced as the nails, but the spaces were smaller. Set in groups of four. His brows furrow. 

“What are those?” It comes out quietly, and Jayce notices what he’s asking about. Viktor looks at you as you settle in an empty chair with your drink in hand. A hand with bloody knuckles. You don’t miss the way his eyes widen. 

“It’s fine, I promise.” Canvas is a rough material, you had meant to get handwraps on your trek to the market to avoid this but it had slipped your mind. Jayce is walking over to you now. He puts a hand out expectantly. A non-negotiable look on his face. “Guys, I’m fine.” You offer a hand anyway, trying not to wince when he turns it over so your palm faces the floor. 

“How long have you been at this?” There’s no judgment in the question, yet you still feel like you’re being scolded. 

“Long enough.” You pull your hand back. “I’ll bandage up in a second, I’m almost done.” The defensiveness in your tone annoys you, a tight feeling in your chest. Heat rises in your cheeks. “What are you guys doing here anyway?” 

Viktor nods to the drink in your hand. Right. Well now you felt even more like a child, pouting after a treat. It’s Jayce who gives you a verbal answer. “Well you gave us directions.” He taps the note. “Plus, Vik and I have some notes to present to Heimerdinger soon. Thought you’d want to hear us sort them out.” His voice is gentle, he stands by the chair in front of you. Viktor meets his gaze and grabs the folder to sit in front of you. He’s already opening it and pulling papers onto the table, not waiting for your response. You stand, putting your drink down. Jayce and Viktor share a look, like they’re worried you’ll say no. “Cute.”

“I’d like that.” You give both of them a soft smile when they visibly relax. “Just let me finish this, I don’t want you guys having to talk over the hammer. You can talk all you want while I gesso.” Viktor quirks a brow at the word. “You’ll see in a second.”

He watches wordlessly as you sit on the floor, picking up the hammer and getting back to work. You’re gritting your teeth as the exposed flesh of your knuckles brushes against the canvas. He smiles softly to himself. He respects the desire to work past your limitations, a familiar urge to him. And then frowns when he remembers that you’re bleeding. He glances at Jayce, who’s pretending to read a paper. Pretending, because he’s looking at Viktor. Wide-eyed like he realizes something. Caught. The hair on the back of his neck stands, a warmth spreading down his back. He quells the feeling. Willing the redness to stay below his collar. Jayce tilts his head at him in question. “What was that?”

He ignores him. The wrong decision. It seems to confirm something in Jayce. He tilts his head again, eyes going even wider. “What. Was. That?” Emphasizing the silent question with a shake of his paper. Viktor gives him a dead stare like he has know idea what he’s not talking about. He starts sorting out notes on the table. Ignoring another paper shake. You’re hammering away totally unaware of their battle of wills. By the time you’ve finished Jayce has given up. He’s rummaging in a corner of the room when you’re standing, wincing as you flex your hands. 

You should clean and wrap your hands, but you could also just start gessoing. You’re already opening up the tub to weigh your options when someone clears their throat. It’s Jayce holding a first aid kit. 

“All of the rooms are provided one. Academy policy.” He looks apologetic, like he knows what you were thinking about. He nods towards his empty chair in front of Viktor. No choice then. You take the seat when he asks you a question. “Why is it so empty in here? I thought you’d have this place decked out.” You stiffen at the question. Embarrassment flooding your veins. Called out. 

“If I’m going to start something, I want it to be something worthwhile.” You’re honest, and it feels good to say it out loud. A tension you didn’t know you were carrying leaving your shoulders. Jayce is handing the kit to Viktor. 

“You know, someone told me once that if you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission.” Viktor gives a quiet chuckle at that, opening the kit and pulling out alcohol swabs and bandages. He motions for you to get closer.

“I’m not changing the world, I’m painting.” You laugh too.

“About people changing the world?” Jayce nudges your shoulder as he walks past to look at your finished canvas. He spies the tub of gesso you opened up. “It’s purple?”

“Think of it as a pre-tone. Before I do the underpainting. It helps me get over the fear of starting on a blank surface.”

“But it'll still be empty” says Jayce.

“Trust me it's different.” You're hissing that last word out. Not out of anger but pain. Viktor had started applying the alcohol to cleanse your knuckles.

“Sorry broučku” He's muttering under his breath. You don't recognize the word but you don't have time to question him when he dabs another piece of alcohol soaked cotton on the next knuckle. You tell him it’s fine and try to ignore the sting behind your eyes everytime he touches you with the swab. You look at Jayce, “Instead of me starting on a perfectly white canvas, I can start with something else. I’m still starting the painting on a clean surface, but I’ve technically started the work that way.”

He hums and comes back to stand behind you, a warm hand on your shoulder. Viktor’s working on your other hand now. You wince again, “Almost done.” he whispers. 

“So,” Viktor looks up when you speak this time. You meet eyes. “Tell me about this presentation.”

╚═*✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧-✦-✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧*═╝

--------------.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ Part 8-.-Part 10.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .---------------

------------‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙· Master Fic List *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊--------------

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.3

Chapter Summary: Joel joins Tommy to meet the Fireflies and set up a trade agreement. They come back to Jackson with more than they expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, mentions of slavery

WC: 5.4K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: a reminder this story follows a slightly different timeline. Ellie was born pre-outbreak, but she was little when it happened.

Joel couldn't believe the past day and a half really happened. The rollercoaster of emotions you put him through left him stunned and shaken, wondering how he could read everything so fucking wrong. He found himself questioning everything now, replaying conversations, wondering if you had ever alluded to your feelings about marriage and a family that maybe he misread, misconstrued. Twisted and built up in his mind to fit into his stupid fantasy. One, he acknowledged, wasn't even in the forefront of his mind until his brother brought it back up to the surface. And suddenly, he wanted it, too. Like some resentful child who saw another playing with a toy he hadn't paid attention to in months, then demanded it for himself.

But he had thought about it, well before Tommy decided to man up first. He had the ring, but he never did anything with it. Why? Deep down, had he known you wouldn't want that? Was he subconsciously protecting himself by never acting on it? Or was he truly just waiting for the right time?

Even with Tommy's news, he still hadn't come up with a plan to actually ask you to marry him. He just allowed the fantasy to play out between your legs while he continued to make up excuses as to why he was holding off. Maybe it just turned him on to have a secret. Maybe he just wanted to have you, mark you, claim you. He knew he had a bad jealous streak, but would he have let his possessiveness lead him this far off track?

No. There were real reasons why he wanted you to be his wife. You made him want to be a better man. The way you made him feel was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. You brought out sides of him that others, including himself, never knew existed. Good things. You made him believe in happiness again, after his heart had been stomped on, making him treat everyone around him so poorly, even his own family. At a time when he felt so undeserving, you made him feel like the only person in the world. Even back then, he had a hard time believing you could actually care for him, but you saw through his bullshit to the man he was underneath, and you loved him for being him.

You had this way of looking at him like he was capable of anything. And with you by his side, he felt like he really was capable of anything. He did things he never thought possible to keep you both safe, as did you. You killed for each other. Not many people can say that. That meant something. The trauma and pain you both endured for one another had to mean something more. There was no doubt you both had proven what you were willing to do for the other, so it was only natural he wanted to commit himself to you. Say the words, vow to you in front of everyone you knew and loved that he would happily devote himself to you for the rest of his life.

So why didn't you want the same?

Ages ago, when the pair of you stumbled into the hellscape that was Kansas City, his ex, Amy, had mentioned offhandedly that you were only with him for protection. At the time, he shrugged it off, knowing full well it was bullshit just to get under his skin. But now, against his better judgement, he was rethinking those words. Rolling them around in his head, wondering if there was any truth to it.

"You been real quiet," Tommy said, pulling Joel out of his misery, surprised to suddenly find his brother next to him as they made their way on horseback down the mountains. Joel shrugged, averting his gaze ahead to the three other men leading the way.

"You mad at me for puttin' you on patrol yesterday? I'm sorry, Carl got sick and I didn't have anyone else," Tommy continued.

"Nah, it's not that," Joel replied, still staring straight ahead. "Didn't sleep well, is all."

"Ah," Tommy said, a playful smile pulling across his lips. "She send you off with somethin' to remember her by?"

Joel huffed and rolled his shoulders, his anger bubbling below the surface as he thought once again about the night before.

"Not exactly," Joel responded, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice.

Tommy hummed in response but remained quiet, trying to read his brother from the corner of his eye.

"Everythin' alright at home?" he asked, unknowingly hitting the nail on the head, causing Joel to clench the muscles in his stomach, like he was bracing for a punch to the gut.

"It's fine. What's the plan for when we get to this place?" Joel asked, quickly sidestepping the subject, something that was certainly not lost on his younger brother, but Tommy allowed for the change in conversation, anyway.

"We're gonna meet up with their leader, woman named Marlene. They're lookin' mostly for weapons, but they need other stuff, too. They got lots of medicine and first aid to swap. Bill's been runnin' real low on antibiotics, considerin' how fast the town is growin'," Tommy said with a sigh, readjusting in his saddle. "Girls sent me with a list of inventory, highlighted all the stuff we have a surplus of and all the stuff we could use more of. Remind me to thank her for helpin' when we get home," he said, keeping a close eye on Joel's reaction when he referred to you.

"Sure," was all Joel said in response, refusing to let him drudge up the topic. The wound was still too fresh, and he needed time. For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what was going through your head, and it scared the shit out of him.

Was it marriage and kids in general you didn't want, or was it marriage and kids with him?

He should have asked. He should have stayed instead of storming out that night. Instead, he let his emotions get the better of him and left you all alone, likely crying until you fell asleep if your swollen eyes the next morning was any indication. When he saw you, saw the distress etched in your perfect features, he wanted to pull you into his arms and never leave for this fucking trip. And he damn near did just that, until you confirmed it was a false alarm, and his heart was torn all over again. It was then he realized he had been hoping you were pregnant with his child, and there would be no choice but to face the next challenge together. Then he would be able to prove to you that it was a good thing, that you could, in fact, do it. And so could he.

Now, instead, he wasn't even sure where you two stood. You had said you still wanted him before he left, and that gave him hope. Hope that maybe not all was lost, that you could repair the damage that was done and come out stronger in the end for it. That maybe he could, in time, prove to you that he would be a good husband, a good father.

But then, Amy's words crept up in the back of his mind since he left. Somehow, years and years later, the woman still managed to torment him, making him believe he wasn't worthy or good enough to possibly have someone like you. The same way she manipulated him into thinking he deserved to be betrayed by her when they were engaged, that he didn't give enough of himself, that she warned him she needed more and he refused.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, we're losin' daylight, let's set up camp and get an early start tomorrow," Tommy announced, much to Joel's relief. He didn't want to admit that, just a mere few weeks away from his fortieth birthday, his back and knees were aching like he was a much older man. He slid down from his saddle with an audible groan, then tied his reins around a tree trunk before giving his mare a few loving pats along the crooked white blaze that split her face.

He unbuckled his sleeping bag from the saddle and shouldered his backpack, dropping his belongings unceremoniously to the ground before he and Jake headed out with a couple hatchets to collect some firewood.

He didn't mind Jake so much anymore. He was quiet, kept to himself and, fortunately, didn't seem to harbor any resentment towards him from the time Joel put him in the infirmary for kissing you. His bad temper mixed with his jealousy nearly killed the man.

Afterwards, he thought he lost you.

You left him, asking for time to process what happened, upset that he didn't take your word for it when you promised him the kiss was a misunderstanding, that you handled it. You viewed it as distrust, he viewed it as protection. It wasn't until later that he realized he was harboring his own trauma from failing to protect you from a past sexual assault.

As he carried an armful of firewood back, he reflected on everything you had been through together. The outbreak, your parents, the time you were stabbed, the assault, the breakup, the accident that nearly killed him. Not to mention all the infected and raiders that threatened you both at every turn. Was your relationship strong enough to endure one more massive hurdle?

They were deep in the woods, the terrain favorable. The trees hid the fire well, and the vast, empty land kept infected away. Still, each man took a quick turn overnight to keep watch. It hardly mattered when Eugene gently shook his shoulder, alerting him it was his turn to watch. He can never sleep well when he's away from you, anyway.

Joel was almost grateful when they reached the hospital late in the afternoon the next day. It was the first time in two days he was able to stop thinking about you, his mind swirling with images of your trembling lip and your tear stained cheeks. He frequently wondered what you were doing, if you told Maria or Carrie about your argument. Were you packing up your things? Would he come home to an empty house? He wasn't sure his heart could handle it again.

You said you still wanted him.

You said you loved him.

But he didn't say those things back, and he left.

Even if you were fighting, even if it was the most significant disagreement you've ever had, he still wanted you near. He could never silence that driving force inside him since the outbreak that screamed keep her safe.

When they approached the hospital, they were all searched, weapons confiscated, as expected, before being ushered inside to meet the leader of the strange group called the Fireflies.

Marlene was a taller woman, with a firm jaw and eyes that could look right through you. He could tell right away she was not to be trifled with, that she took her role seriously in this little revolution she was spearheading. Although the people they had met since arriving seemed very intense, he didn't feel threatened. And he usually had a good instinct for those things. Usually.

They were in the hospital cafeteria, the five men, Marlene, plus a few others seated around a large, circular table as Tommy and Marlene exchanged pleasantries, both parties trying to make the other more comfortable. Joel hadn't really been listening. He was scanning the room, watching the guards pace by the doors regularly, the sentries standing watch with their hands resting on their rifles as they watched the exchange from a distance.

A small group of women entered from the door behind him, heading towards the kitchen to begin food preparations. Joel's eyes glanced over the group of four, three middle aged looking women who kept their eyes pinned to the ground, and a young girl with brown hair, tied back away from her face. She didn't look to be a day over thirteen, and she was the only one who looked around the room, her eyes locking with Joel's. He stared at her, his brow slightly furrowed as he tried to assess the situation. She continued to hold his gaze as she followed the other women, and although her body language gave nothing away, Joel felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Something seemed off.

"Isn't that right, Joel?" Tommy was saying, snapping his attention away from the girl, who he saw in his peripheral disappear behind a door into the kitchen.

"I'm sorry?" he replied, leaning forward and lacing his fingers together on top of the table, trying to look focused.

"I was just sayin' how we know of a few police stations in some small towns that have barely been touched. Wouldn't be much effort for us to get a group together when we get home and go ransack 'em, take just a few days to hit 'em all," Tommy said, his eyes flicking from Joel to Marlene, then back again.

Another trip. More days away from you.

"Yeah," Joel replied, nodding his head and ignoring the pit in his stomach. "It's not enough for an army, but I reckon any little bit helps."

"In the meantime, lemme show you our inventory list. See if anything jumps out at you, and we can work on gettin' those guns," said Tommy as he pulled the list out of his coat pocket and smoothing it out on the table.

Marlene reviewed the list, her dark eyes flicking over the paper quickly with a few hums here and there as she took notes.

"Looks good, but we mostly need weapons," she said, leaning back in her chair. "I could probably do with some fresh vegetables, I think everyone's getting sick of the canned shit. And shampoo. But that hardly is a match for antibiotics." Her eyes shifted back and forth between Joel and Tommy, and the corner of her mouth turned up as an idea hit her.

"I do have another offer, though," she said, leaning forward. "It's not what we discussed, but if you're willing, I could send you home with half a box of penicillin now, and the other half after."

"After... what?" Tommy asked a little hesitantly.

"I'm lacking manpower at the moment. My guys are stretched thin, we're planning a hit on the soldiers at the Boise QZ. I need you to take someone to the hospital base we have in Salt Lake City. It should only take two days to get there, and I just need you to make sure she gets there alive," Marlene said, pressing her pointer finger into the table on the last word for emphasis.

Tommy glanced at the other four men, clearly not expecting to run errands for these people in exchange for medicine. Joel could see the wheels turning in his brother's head before Tommy spoke.

"Show me the meds first," he said to Marlene, and she quickly lifted two fingers up from the table, blindly addressing someone behind her to exit and do as he asked.

"What's the catch?" Joel asked, his defenses going up.

"No catch. Just need to get her out of here and with my other group, and I don't have the time to do it myself," she said with a shrug, but Joel knew better. She was trying to act casual, but he saw her knee bouncing under the table.

He shouldn't have come on his trip.

Once Tommy laid eyes on the unopened vials of medicine, medicine Jackson could really use since Bill, the town doctor, had been rationing enough as it is, Joel knew his decision was made.

"Done," Tommy said with a nod, extending his arm to shake Marlene's hand, which she eagerly reached out to do.

"Tommy," Joel said quietly, annoyed his brother didn't run the decision by the group first.

"Give me a little bit. I'll go talk to her so you can hit the road right away. John, please give these gentleman half the box of penicillin," Marlene said as she pushed her chair back, the legs making an awful screech against the dirty, linoleum floor. "Dinner is about to be served, please help yourselves as my guests," she added over her shoulder, leaving the dining hall.

"Tommy," Joel tried again, finally pulling his brother's attention. "A word?"

He led Tommy a ways away from the table so their conversation couldn't be overheard.

"What're you thinkin'?" Joel asked him, hands on his hips. "We don't do things like this."

"I know, Joel, but we're already out here, what's the harm? It's just a few more days," he said.

"I can't do a few more days, I need to get home," Joel replied, raking his fingers through his hair anxiously.

"I'll send Jesse and Jake back to let the girls know we'll be a little longer-"

"Goddamnit, Tommy, no!" Joel said, louder than he anticipated, a few heads from the table turning to glance his way.

"Jackson needs this medicine, what the hell's gotten into you?" Tommy asked with a frown, shifting his weight as he tried to read his brother's face.

Before he could reply, Marlene reentered the room alone, motioning for the two brothers to join her back at the table.

"Ellie's working in the kitchen, once dinner is over I'll send her to change and gather her things," Marlene said.

"Not a problem," said Tommy as he sat back down.

"Is that true?" Marlene asked, her lips pressed in a thin line as she held Joel's gaze, waiting for him to answer. He took a deep breath through his nose and crossed his arms.

"Yeah, not a problem," Joel replied bitterly.

Joel ate his meal quickly, desperate to finish this ridiculous task so he could get home. The longer he was away from you, the stronger his paranoia became. With each passing hour, he could almost feel the chasm between you growing, and he was beginning to convince himself there was no repairing the damage that was done. On both sides. Communication had never been his strong suit, but he thought he was getting better at it the past few years. Why did he go on this trip?

His eyes flicked up from his empty plate to see Marlene heading their way with the young girl he saw earlier in tow. His anger flared deep in his belly again, and he elbowed Tommy in the ribs to mutter angrily "she didn't mention it was a fuckin' kid" before Marlene could overhear.

"Ellie, these are the men I told you about. They're going to take you to Salt Lake City like we discussed," Marlene said, her hand resting on the girl's back. Joel eyed her carefully, noticing how tense her shoulders looked as she regarded the five men in front of her. His eyes drifted back to Marlene, wondering why on earth she was willing to leave this young girl with five strange men without a second thought. He decided she either was very desperate, or didn't care much for the girl.

Ellie readjusted her backpack on her shoulders and yanked on the edges of her long sleeved shirt, squaring her jaw as she stared them all down. Marlene crouched down to the girl's level and rested her hands on her shoulders.

"Remember what I told you. Listen to them, and everything will be fine," Marlene said, narrowing her eyes at Ellie. Ellie nodded, nostrils flaring before Marlene stood up to address Tommy.

"You need a map?"

"Nah, we got maps," Tommy said with a shake of his head. "This group know when we get there to give us the rest of the payment?"

"I'll radio the leader over there once you leave, let her know the deal," Marlene replied, stretching her arm out again to shake Tommy's hand.

"Alright, then," said Tommy, looking back down at Ellie and shooting her a small smile, trying to make her feel more comfortable. "You ready?"

"Yeah," she said, taking a deep breath and following Tommy out of the cafeteria.

They collected their weapons at the entrance before heading out, Ellie joining Tommy on the back of his horse. They didn't make it very far before the sun began to dip behind the trees and a quiet place was found to make camp for the night.

After getting a fire going, Tommy sat down in the dirt next to Joel, who had been leaning against a small oak tree, sipping from his flask and staring into the flames. The other three men were quietly playing a game of poker across from them, the occasional laugh or taunt floating in the air, while Ellie busied herself with a worn, paperback book further away from the rest.

"You wanna tell me what's goin' on yet?" Tommy asked, taking out his own flask.

"Nothin's goin' on," Joel replied gruffly, eyes trained on the fire.

"What's makin' you feel like you need to get home so bad?" he pressed. Joel felt that anger swelling inside him again, up his stomach and through his chest, and for a moment he wondered if Tommy knew. That maybe you told Maria and she let something slip.

"I told you, it's nothin'," he snarled, taking another sip from his flask and letting his eyes drift over to the girl. "Just wish I knew you were signin' me up to be a goddamn babysitter before comin' on this fuckin' trip."

"I can hear you, you know," Ellie said, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book.

"Good," Joel said, jutting his chin towards her, finally finding something to take his anger out on. "What's your deal, anyway?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, sitting upright and letting her book fall to her lap, a flash of stubbornness not unlike his own reflecting in her eyes.

"Try me," Joel argued, his jaw clenching. Ellie glared at him, silence falling over the camp as everyone waited for her to speak. She opened her mouth, then thought better of it, clamping it shut and casting her eyes down. Joel scoffed, not ready to let the topic go just yet. Angry that this child was keeping him from home, from you. Angry that his brother agreed to it, like a fool.

"C'mon now, let's hear it. What makes you so fuckin' special?"

"Joel," Tommy said under his breath, a warning, reminding him to watch his language, that she was just a kid.

"Why should I bother? You're all the same, anyway! No one ever listens to me, 'cause I'm just some kid, right? No one-" she cut herself off, stopping herself before she said too much.

"Who's all the same?" Tommy asked gently, trying to coax the information out of her. She shrugged and huffed, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.

"The people Marlene hires. Dragging me all over the country like I'm... whatever," she said, stopping herself yet again.

"So this ain't the first time Marlene sent you off with a bunch of strange men?" Joel asked, the edge still in his tone but he could feel his resolve softening, somehow feeling bad for this little girl despite his own problems.

"No," was all she offered, glaring at Joel again.

"Are you in some sort of trouble, kid?" Eugene's voice asked from across the fire. The silence that followed was deafening, only the crackle from the fire filling the air. Ellie's eyes shot over to Eugene, looking him up and down, trying to keep up her steely resolve before giving up and turning her back on the group, announcing she was going to bed, and burying herself in the sleeping bag that was way too big for her.

Joel stared at the back of her head, trying to connect the dots with the context he had available to him, but he couldn't figure it out. Tommy shifted next to him, clearly lost in his own thoughts, as well. Wondering for the first time if he had gotten them all in over their heads.

The following morning, Tommy sent Jake and Jesse back home to let everyone know they were going to be a few days late. The three remaining men and Ellie packed up their supplies early, hitting the trail as soon as possible, ready to make a dent in the long road ahead. Eugene led the way, followed by Tommy, then Joel brought up the rear, his eyes burning holes in the back of Ellie's head as she clung to Tommy's denim jacket to keep her balance on the back of his horse.

Joel chewed the inside of his cheek, still feeling bitter, about everything. You, Tommy, Ellie. All of it. Since he couldn't get to you, and Tommy already got him in too deep, he chose to direct his energy towards Ellie when they took a break midday.

"Marlene send you with any food, or are you takin' that from us, too?" Joel asked, sitting down on a fallen tree trunk with a groan.

"I have food. And what else could I have possibly taken from you?" Ellie replied curtly, sitting further down the log as she opened her pack to fish out some granola bars.

"Time," Joel snapped. "And we don't even know why we're doin' it."

"Isn't Marlene paying you guys?" she replied with a huff. Tommy's eyes toggled back and forth between Joel and Ellie, becoming exasperated with the constant bickering.

"Can you just drop it, Joel?" Tommy asked. "Who cares? It's an easy gig, and we get meds out of it."

"Oh, she's giving you meds? Wow, she must be really desperate," Ellie chimed in.

"Alright, I've had enough," Joel said, standing up to tower over the girl. "Spit it out. What're we doin' here?"

"Fine, Joel," she said, stretching out each syllable before standing up, fists clenched at her sides. The way she said his name set his teeth on edge. "You wanna know how you're helping slavers move cargo? That the answer you're looking for?"

The three men froze, clearly not expecting that. Tommy stood up now, his head swiveling between Eugene and Joel as he processed the information just dropped on them.

"Wait-" Tommy said, stretching his arm out to Ellie, but she cut him off.

"Yeah, that's right. You still think this is a pain for you?" she snapped, glaring at Joel even though Tommy was the one who spoke.

"Stop!" Joel shouted, holding his hands up in the air as silence fell over the camp. He pointed his finger to Ellie.

"You. Explain. Now."

Joel pinched the bridge of his nose as he silently listened to Ellie tell her story. Her parents were dead. She was taken from her aunt and uncle's house at a young age, forced into slavery for the past few years: laundry, cooking, cleaning. Sometimes for twelve hours a day. Said she's been with the Fireflies a long time, that they keep moving her from base to base but she claimed she didn't know why. Joel had to wonder how much of what she was saying was the truth. There was no doubt something was happening at that hospital, but slaves? Something just didn't add up.

When she finished her story, she nervously glanced around at the men, waiting for one of them to say something. Tommy sighed and motioned to the woods.

"We need to talk about this. Privately," Tommy said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie. "You stay here."

"Fine. Not like I can make it on my own out there, anyway," she said with a snort. She picked up a stick from the ground and began drawing into the loose dirt at her feet.

"We're takin' her back, givin' back the meds, and goin' home," Joel said the moment they were out of earshot. Tommy shook his head.

"Joel-"

"This is enough, Tommy! This ain't our business. Any other option here puts the whole town at risk, puts Maria at risk, puts-" he stopped himself, biting his tongue before saying your name. He hadn't thought about you for the past half hour. A new record.

Tommy wasn't an idiot. He knew something was going on, but he couldn't focus on it, having a much bigger problem to sort out.

"She's a kid. We can't take her back, and we can't take her to Salt Lake City. It ain't right," said Tommy gently, hoping he would make his brother see through whatever was plaguing his mind and look at the bigger picture. Joel frowned and glared at the grass below his boots, clenching and unclenching his jaw as his mind struggled to wrap itself around the situation.

"Eugene?" Tommy said, turning to raise his eyebrows at the older, and suspiciously quiet, man. Eugene sighed, dropping his shoulders like he was carrying an enormous weight.

"I agree with Tommy," he said, and Joel spun on his heel, angrily pacing a few feet away to take some deep breaths.

"So, what? We take her to Jackson? We don't show people where we live for a fuckin' reason," Joel reminded them, his back still turned on the two men.

"We take her back, just a bit, til we can find where her aunt and uncle were livin', and we'll take her back home," Tommy said, the gears in his head turning as he formulated the plan on the spot. "In the meantime, we tell the Fireflies she ran off in the middle of the night. Maybe if we can get those guns to 'em, we can still keep the antibiotics."

Joel scoffed and shook his head, turning around to glare at his younger brother.

"This is stupid and risky. Lyin' to those people don't seem like a good move to me."

"Yeah, well, it's the only move we got, Joel. Otherwise, we're just as bad as them," said Tommy, his eyes drifting through the trees to make sure Ellie was still perched on the log where they left her. "I won't ask you to help take her back to her family."

"Damn right, you won't," Joel muttered, rolling his shoulders angrily. He stared off in the direction of Ellie, his jaw ticking off to the side with his hands on his hips, lost in thought.

He shouldn't have gone on this trip.

"Alright, is it settled, then? Can we hit the road, go back home?" Eugene asked, clearly tired of the bickering. Joel glared at the other two men before stomping back over to Ellie, who stood when she heard the men approaching, eyes flicking to each of their faces. Joel brushed past her to scoop up his bag from the ground and jumped back up on his horse with a grunt. At least he won't have to be away from you any longer. Not that he was sure what to even say, he just knew he needed to see you.

"C'mon, kid. We're takin' you to our town," Tommy said, motioning for her to grab her things and follow him to his horse.

"Really?" she asked excitedly, a small smile playing on her face for the first time.

"'Til we can get you back to your family, yeah," he replied, holding an arm out to help her scramble up the back of his horse.

Joel remained quiet the next day and a half, inwardly brooding about the potential blowback from taking this kid, which then morphed into nerves when he realized he was a few hours away from seeing you again.

When they arrived through the gates of Jackson, he didn't watch Ellie's eyes light up when she first saw the town, the people, the animals, kids her age playing. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on searching for your face in the small crowd that welcomed them back, then he would have seen how happy Ellie was. How, for maybe the first time in years, she felt a spark of hope. Maybe if he wasn't so focused on the ache in his chest when he didn't see you, it wouldn't have come as a surprise when Ellie snuck off the first chance she got, bobbing and weaving down the busy street, eager to see what the town had to offer.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo - lmk if I missed anyone or if you want to be removed

[puppym3]

heartstrings and lullabies chap 3

soft!seungmin x afab!reader

chap 4!

wc: 5.5k (whoops...)

warnings! : smut!, fingering (f receiving), readers implied first time, seungmin is experienced, seungmin is so sweet and soft, secret relationship trope, seungmin + reader hold back a lot, angst at the end, family arguing

a/n: i accidentally got too into it and wrote a lil extra... hope you enjoy! i appreciate all of the love, thank you so much!! I'll combine all of the chapters together when I'm done writing! <3

MINORS DNI!

this is only a work of fiction!

---

“We should take things slow,” Seungmin says, backing away for the fourth time since he’s gotten to my room.

“Yeah, I agree.” I mustered out, unsure if I was mentally back yet when I replied because of the amount of fog in my head from the kisses.

The lingering taste of his kiss still tingled on my lips as we sat there, our breaths still mingling in the quietness of the room.

“I need to calm down,” Seungmin said embarrassed, trying to dismiss himself from the room. I could guess what “calming down” meant and my breath got stuck in my throat again, coughing slightly. Remembering the moment he left the room for a while yesterday night when all of his blood went to other places.

And as much as I wanted to say something, and tell him to stay, I knew that these boundaries were important to him and we should try to take things slow. 

I watched him as he stood up, his movements a bit awkward as if he was fighting with himself to stay composed. His eyes flickered to the door and then back to me, a soft smile playing on his lips despite the clear tension in his shoulders.

"Right," I said, clearing my throat and trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Taking things slow is... good."

Seungmin nodded, his expression softening a bit at my words. "Yeah, it is. I just need to... take a moment."

I could see the faint blush on his cheeks, and it made my heart ache with a mix of affection and desire. He was trying so hard to keep things respectful, and I appreciated that more than I could express.

As he reached for the handle, he hesitated, glancing back at me one last time. "Um, Just… to let you know, I really like you. A lot."

My heart skipped a beat at his words, and I felt my face heat up. "I like you too, Seungmin. A lot."

A genuine smile broke across his face, and it was like the tension melted away just for a second. "I'll be back soon," he said softly before finally stepping out of the room.

As the door closed behind him, I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. The room felt strangely empty without him, and the lingering warmth of his presence seemed to fade away slowly.

I leaned back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Taking things slow was the right choice, but it was challenging. My mind replayed the moments we had shared, the way his lips had felt against mine, the way his touch had sent shivers down my spine.

For some reason, I felt tears welling up in my eyes, a sudden hit of overwhelming emotion. I was so lucky that he reciprocated the way I feel in some way, but he’s right about it being difficult. Maybe it was just the overwhelming feeling of happiness, nervousness, anticipation, and being unintentionally edged over and over again. 

I wiped the tears away quickly, not wanting to dwell too much on the emotions I was feeling. There was a lot to process, and Seungmin and I had decided to take things slow, which meant I'd have to get used to managing these feelings without rushing into anything.

I knew I needed to keep myself occupied. I decided to tidy up my room, hoping the mundane task would help me regain some semblance of control over my racing thoughts.

Just as I was straightening a stack of books on my desk, I heard a soft knock at the door. My heart leapt into my throat, and I took a deep breath before opening it.

Seungmin stood there, looking more composed than when he had left. His eyes softened as he saw me, his face a little flushed and he offered a tentative smile. "Hey," he said quietly.

"Hey," I replied, stepping aside to let him in.

He nodded, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. "Sorry that I keep on leaving."

"I understand," I said, smiling reassuringly. 

Seungmin took a seat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the floor for a moment before he looked up at me. "I meant what I said earlier," he began softly. "About liking you. And about wanting to figure this out, together."

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, and I nodded. "Me too. I want to find a way to make this work, no matter how complicated things might get."

He reached out, taking my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "We'll take it one step at a time."

I squeezed his hand back, feeling a surge of determination. "One step at a time," I echoed, a sense of hope blooming within me.

After sitting on the edge of my bed for a while, Seungmin hesitated for a while, as if he needed to say something more.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Seungmin begins, and for some reason my heart immediately drops all the way to my stomach. “But… I don’t think we should, uhm” He looks at me, debating how he should choose his words. “...have sex… yet” 

I felt a wave a relief, but also embarrassment hearing him say it out loud cause I thought it was already implied with “taking it slow”. “I really want to, like… do that, like, a lot, but now probably isn’t the best time.” he finishes off, nervously brushing his hair out of his eyes. His puppy eyes nervously scanned my face to see how I’d react.

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly, quietly accepting his words. “I’ll wait for you.” 

Seungmin's smiled, and he pulled me into a hug. I melted into his embrace, feeling the steadiness of his heartbeat against my cheek. It was a simple gesture, but it evoked such a warm feeling inside of me.

I let him hold me for a moment, listening to his soft breathing and quickening heartbeat.

I let Seungmin hold me for a while longer, savoring the closeness and the comfort of his embrace. When we finally pulled away, he gave me one last lingering look before leaving the room, promising to see me later.

When we had to gather for dinner, the atmosphere was charged with tension as our parents decided to have a family gathering in the dining area. Seungmin and I exchanged nervous glances as we entered the room, trying to act normal despite the many things we were hiding.

I was more upset than anything that baby Yun wasn’t here, I knew if he was here I would have something else to focus on. But he was gone visiting his grandparents for the weekend.

My mom was chatting animatedly with Seungmin's dad, their laughter filling the room. It was clear they were enjoying each other's company, which only made me more uncomfortable.

Seungmin and I sat on opposite ends of the table, pretending to be engrossed in our own thoughts. Every now and then, our eyes would meet, and a silent understanding passed between us.

"So, have you two been getting to know each other?" my mom asked, turning her attention to us.

I forced a smile, feeling the weight of her question. "Good," I replied, trying to sound casual. "We've been getting to know each other better."

Seungmin nodded in agreement. "Yeah."

His dad looked at us with a warm smile. "I was nervous! I thought they wouldn’t make an effort to get to know each other at all."

Seungmin and I exchanged a quick glance, I was suppressing the urge to laugh at the irony.

"Yeah, my daughter isn’t the social type" My mom said, almost teasing at me. 

As the conversation continued, I couldn't help but steal glances at Seungmin. The memory of our kisses lingered in my mind, making it hard to focus on anything else. I could tell he was struggling too, his fingers tapping restlessly on the side of his thigh.

Our parents didn't seem to notice the underlying tension between us, too caught up in their own conversation. It was both a relief and a challenge, trying to maintain our secret while being so close to each other.

At one point, Seungmin's dad suggested playing a board game, and our parents eagerly agreed. Seungmin and I found ourselves sitting next to each other, our shoulders brushing occasionally as we moved pieces on the board.

The game was a distraction, but it also brought us physically closer. Every touch, however accidental, sent a jolt of electricity through me. I could feel the heat of Seungmin's body next to mine, his presence both comforting and exhilarating.

As the game progressed, I noticed Seungmin's fingers brushing against mine under the table. It was a small, discreet gesture, but it sent my heart racing. I glanced at him, and he gave me a subtle, reassuring smile.

His fingers were interlocked with mine, then when it was my turn to go my hand quickly broke apart with his. His hand fell from mine and gently rested on my thigh, his fingers tracing the outline of my jeans.

I felt heat follow everywhere he touched, making me shiver. He finally stopped when his hand reached out to lay on my inner thigh but did not move an inch. It was getting more and more hard to compose myself as he watched my reactions with a careful eye. 

We continued the game, our parents oblivious to the silent communication happening between us.

At one point, Seungmin's dad excused himself to get more snacks from the kitchen, and my mom followed to help him. The moment they were out of earshot, Seungmin leaned in closer to me.

"How are you holding up?" he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

I shuddered. "I’m…” I let out a quick shaky breath, “Managing. You?"

"Same," he replied softly. "I didn’t realize how hard this would be."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I bit my lip to suppress a smile. "Me too."

It was a little thrilling to hide this one thing from everyone, but I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to hold it up.

And I remembered Seungmin’s words from earlier, how were we not going to get physical when this amount of contact was getting me worked up? I meant what I said to him, I was going to wait even if it killed me. 

Two weeks had already passed, and I had stayed true to my word. I kept my hands off of him and he did the same. We would occasionally share a peck or he would give me a back hug when nobody was around, and those intimate moments were enough to keep me satisfied for the moment.

Yun had also been keeping me busy since he had started crawling around everywhere. I had my eyes on him like a hawk to make sure he wouldn’t do stupid baby stuff. 

Seungmin had been beside me most of the time as well. But whenever I had to watch the baby, my attention would only be on the baby (for a good reason). As much as I was frustrated with my mom for going around and leaving us with the baby, I’m glad she gave me a good distraction.

I was cradling Yun for a while, and he had finally gone asleep in my arms. I placed him carefully in his crib when I felt arms snake around my waist and kisses on the back of my neck.

“Seungmin” I whispered out to him, enjoying the warmth and comfort of his embrace. His touch was gentle and I leaned back into him, savoring our one daily moment of intimacy.

“Wanna watch a movie tonight? We have the house alone tonight and we could finally hang out.” He whispered in my ear.

I smiled, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time alone with Seungmin. "Sure, that sounds great," I replied softly, turning around to face him and I couldn't help but lean in to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Let's pick a good movie," I suggested, already feeling the tension easing between us as we settled into the familiar rhythm of being together.

Seungmin nodded, his hand finding mine as we walked together to the living room. We scrolled through the movie options, our shoulders brushing as we debated over genres and actors. Eventually, we settled on a romantic drama, something light and entertaining.

As the movie played, we lounged on the couch, occasionally stealing glances and sharing soft laughs. The comfort of his presence filled me with a sense of contentment.

But once his hand found his way on my thigh again, my mind completely blanked again just like what happened at game night. I felt the tingling sensation and the sudden heat in my body. 

I could see his eyes glued to the TV, but I couldn’t focus at all on what was happening. It wasn’t fair that I seemed to be the only one struggling this entire time when he seems perfectly fine.

As Seungmin's fingers traced gentle circles on my thighs, I could feel my mind growing hazy with desire. Each stroke sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't suppress a soft sigh as his touch moved higher, igniting a tingling sensation that stirred something deep within me. His concern was evident in the way he looked at me, his puppy-dog eyes searching for any sign of discomfort.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice laced with both worry and curiosity.

Instead of answering, a surge of longing and impatience surged through me. Without a word, I moved, pushing him back onto the couch and straddling his lap. I could sense his surprise and uncertainty, his wide eyes locked onto mine as I leaned in, capturing his lips in a hungry, heated kiss. It was as if all the pent-up longing and unspoken desire had finally found release.

His hands, initially hesitant, found my hips and pulled me closer, deepening the kiss with a fervor that matched my own. Our bodies pressed tightly together, each touch electrifying as we explored the depths of our passion. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him against me.

Seungmin responded eagerly, his restraint giving way to the raw intensity between us. His hands roamed over my back, tracing the curves of my body with a growing urgency that mirrored my own. The kiss grew more fervent, more desperate, as if we were both trying to convey days of longing in that single moment.

My own need grew with every passing second, my hands exploring him with a hunger I hadn't realized I possessed. Fingers slipped under his shirt, tracing the contours of his slightly toned body, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine. When we finally broke the kiss, his surprise was palpable, his heavy breathing a testament to the intensity of our connection.

Seungmin's gaze met mine, his breath ragged against my skin. Without a word, he leaned in to trail kisses along the curve of my neck, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. Each touch of his lips was a revelation, a new sensation that stirred me to my core. I moaned softly, unable to contain the pleasure that shot through me with each caress.

His hands tightened on my hips, pulling me closer as he continued to explore my neck and collarbone. The touch was both gentle and possessive, sending my senses reeling. I arched into him, seeking more of his touch, more of the electrifying sensation that only he could evoke.

Unconsciously, I found myself moving against his thigh, seeking some relief from the building tension between us. I gasped as I felt his hardness pressing against me, a physical reminder of our mutual desire. His lips continued their assault on my neck, soft and warm, igniting a fire that burned hotter with every passing second.

Seungmin's hands moved up my body, tracing the curves of my waist and the swell of my breasts. I let out a soft moan as he cupped my breast, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me. The heat between us intensified, the tension growing as we both struggled to control our escalating desire.

Pulling back slightly, I looked into his eyes, seeing the raw passion and longing mirrored in his gaze. His grip on my hips tightened, fingers digging into my skin as he pulled me closer. His lips crashed down on mine again, the kiss rough and demanding. I felt a rush of excitement as he took control, his hands roaming over my body with a newfound urgency.

"Hurry... do something," I pleaded, the words escaping my lips in a desperate whisper.

He didn't need further encouragement. With a swift movement, he yanked my shirt over my head, the sudden exposure to the air-conditioned room making me acutely aware of our heated surroundings. Seungmin's eyes roamed over my bare skin, drinking in every inch of me with an intensity that left me breathless.

His hands moved to my back, deftly unhooking my bra and letting it fall to the floor. He claimed my lips again, the kiss deepening as his hands roamed over my body with purpose. I could feel his hardness pressing against me, a physical manifestation of our shared need.

Seungmin's fingers traced the curve of my waist, his touch sending shivers down my spine. His thumbs brushed against my nipples, eliciting a soft moan from deep within me. Each caress was like a wildfire, spreading heat and desire through every inch of my body.

Seungmin pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine for any sign of hesitation. "Is this okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. I nodded, my voice caught in my throat as I struggled to find the words to express the overwhelming desire that coursed through me.

His hands moved lower, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of my pants.  I helped him to discard my pants, only leaving me in my underwear, which kind've felt awkward being the only one naked. 

But it didn't matter when I saw his face as he scanned my body, looking at it as if it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever looked at.

Seungmin's gaze lingered on my body, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through me. "Can I touch you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded, "Yes, please...." my heart pounding in my chest as I surrendered myself to him. Seungmin's fingers moved lower, first teasing the fabric, rubbing fingers slowly over my wetness, then slipping beneath the fabric of my panties. I gasped, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me.

Seungmin's eyes never left mine as he continued to explore me, his fingers moving with a slow, deliberate pace that left me aching for more. I could feel the heat building between us, the tension growing with each passing second.

His fingers found my clit, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. I moaned softly, my hips bucking against his hand as he began to circle the sensitive nub. Each stroke sent a wave of pleasure through me, the heat building until I could barely breathe.

The way he was staring at my flushed face, watching my reactions, and making sure he was making me feel good was enough to drive me over the edge. 

One of his fingers finally dipped into me, the sensation building to a crescendo. I could feel my body trembling, my heart racing with anticipation.

"Can I make you cum?" Seungmin asked softly, his voice laced with a mix of desire and concern. His eyes locked onto mine, searching for any sign of hesitation.

I nodded, all I could do was choke out a moan. I couldn't speak, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside me. I held onto his arm as he prodded into me at a slow pace

Seungmin added another finger and quickened his pace, hitting the right spot and sending shivers down my spine. 

As the pleasure built, I felt myself getting closer and closer to the edge. I could feel the heat building inside me, my breath coming in short gasps as I struggled to hold on.

Seungmin's fingers continued to work their magic, his touch sending waves of pleasure through me. I could feel my body tensing, my muscles clenching as I fought to hold on.

"For me," Seungmin whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Let go and let me make you feel good."

His words were enough to push me over the edge. I cried out, my body convulsing as I came, my muscles clenching around his fingers. I had never came down as hard as this before, but his fingers were like magic.

He slowly removed his fingers, not trying to overstimulate me. He then hurried off to get things to clean me with and get a change of clothes.

As the pleasure began to ebb away, I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. My limbs felt heavy, my eyelids drooping as I struggled to stay awake.

Seungmin must have noticed my tiredness, because he gently tucked me into his side, his arm wrapped around me protectively. I snuggled into him, enjoying the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

I wanted to do something for him, to return the favor and make him feel as good as he had made me feel. 

I reached out, my hand finding his hardness through his pants. I could feel his sharp intake of breath as I began to stroke him, my movements slow and deliberate.

Seungmin let out a soft moan, his head falling back against the couch cushions. I could see the pleasure in his eyes, the way his body tensed and relaxed with each stroke. I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at being able to give him this pleasure.

But Seungmin's hand stopped mine, his eyes meeting mine with a soft smile. "No, not tonight baby," he said, his voice gentle. "Tonight was about you, about making you feel good."

The pet name “baby” felt so good to hear in my head and I wanted to argue, to protest that I wanted to give him just as much pleasure as he had given me, but the warmth of Seungmin's embrace and the gentle reassurance in his eyes silenced any protest. He held me close, his touch soothing as I nestled against him, feeling safe and cherished.

The room felt cocooned in intimacy, the air thick with the lingering echoes of our passion. I could still feel the aftershocks of my release, a pleasant tingling that ebbed into a deep sense of contentment. Seungmin's heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, a comforting rhythm that lulled me toward sleep.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on my back, his touch a gentle caress that whispered of tenderness and care. I sighed softly, my exhaustion finally catching up with me as I let myself relax completely in his arms.

"Sleep, beautiful," Seungmin murmured, his voice a soft whisper against my hair. "I'll be right here."

With his comforting words, I closed my eyes, allowing sleep to claim me. Wrapped in Seungmin's embrace, I drifted into dreams filled with the warmth of his love and the promise of tomorrow.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room as I woke up. Memories of last night flooded back to me, the warmth of Seungmin's touch still all over my body, and the way he guided me through everything brought heat back to my cheeks.

I felt so happy, but a little upset that I couldn’t do more for him.

The sound of my bedroom door opening abruptly pulled me out of my reverie. It was my mother, her expression a mixture of concern and disapproval.

"Good morning," I greeted tentatively, sensing the tension in the air.

My mother's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the room, her gaze landing on the disheveled bed and my tousled hair. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

I glanced at the clock and winced. "Um, sorry, I lost track of time."

She sighed heavily, folding her arms across her chest. "I understand, but you can't keep disappearing like this. Joon is trying to connect with you, and you're barely giving him a chance."

I felt a surge of irritation at her words. "I can't keep relationships? Maybe I learned that from you."

My mother's face hardened at the accusation, her lips pursed tightly. "This isn't about me, it's about your future. You need to start thinking about your responsibilities."

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. "I'm trying, okay? But it’s kind’ve hard to think of my future when we’re constantly moving around, how can I keep relationships, mom?”

My mother's expression hardened further at my retort, her brows furrowing in displeasure. "Moving around is no excuse. Plenty of people manage to maintain relationships despite changes."

I stood up from the bed, suddenly feeling defensive. "Maybe if you'd consider staying put for once, I wouldn't feel like every connection I make is temporary."

Her eyes flashed with hurt, but she quickly composed herself. "Life isn't that simple, and sometimes we have to make sacrifices for our future."

I crossed my arms, feeling the weight of frustration and resentment building inside me. "What about my future? What about what I want?"

"You're still young," she replied sharply. "You need stability, discipline. I’m trying to provide that for you."

"Yeah, by dragging us from city to city every few years!" I shot back, my voice rising. "I can't even have a stable friendship, let alone a relationship!"

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "You need to learn to adapt."

I shook my head, feeling tears of frustration welling up. "Adapt? How am I supposed to adapt when I don't even know where we'll be next year?"

"We're doing what's best for us," she insisted, her tone firm. "You need to think beyond your immediate desires."

I took a step closer to her, my voice trembling with emotion. "Maybe I wouldn't need to cling to every fleeting moment of happiness if I felt like I had some stability."

Her expression softened slightly, a flicker of regret passing through her eyes.

I turned away, blinking back tears. "I just want to feel like I belong somewhere."

She reached out tentatively, but I pulled away, needing space to breathe. The weight of our argument hung heavy in the air, words left unsaid but emotions raw and exposed.

After a moment of tense silence, she spoke again, her voice softer now. "I know you're upset, but I promise I’m trying to set roots."

I turned back to face her, my anger fading into resignation. "I know."

Her gaze softened, a trace of maternal concern in her eyes. "Give Joon a chance. He cares about you, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

I nodded, feeling drained by the emotional turmoil of our conversation. "I'll try."

She turned and slowly closed my door, leaving me to be alone as I wiped away the tears from my eyes.

There was only one place I wanted to be right now, back in Seungmin’s arms, where I felt understood and cared for, or back in the nursery, surrounded by Yun and Seungmin, where everything felt simpler and more comforting.

As I sat alone in my room, the weight of the morning's argument still heavy on my heart, I couldn't shake the feeling of being torn between two worlds. On one hand, there was Seungmin, whose presence brought me comfort and a sense of belonging I rarely felt elsewhere. On the other hand, there was Joon, my mother's choice for stability and a future she deemed secure.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to sort through the jumble of emotions. The memory of Seungmin's touch lingered, a warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool, calculated words of my mother. I wanted stability, yes, but not at the cost of sacrificing every connection that meant something to me.

I felt a strong urge to hear Seungmin’s voice, I needed to hear him, I missed him so much. I feel like he’s the only thing that would cheer me up at a time like this.

I picked up my phone, fingers trembling slightly as I scrolled through the contacts until I found Seungmin's name. With a deep breath, I pressed the call button, hoping beyond hope that he would answer.

The phone rang once, twice, and just as I feared he might not pick up, I heard his voice on the other end. "Hello?"

"Seungmin," I breathed out, relief flooding through me at the sound of his voice. "It's me."

There was a pause, then a soft, comforting reply. "Hey... Are you okay?"

Tears welled up again, my voice wavering as I struggled to keep it steady. "Not really. I just... I needed to hear your voice."

"I'm here," he reassured me gently. "Whatever you need, I'm here."

His words were like a lifeline, grounding me in the midst of turmoil. "I miss you," I admitted quietly, feeling a rush of vulnerability.

"I miss you too," Seungmin replied softly. "I’m not home but, do you want me to come?"

The thought of him being here, of his comforting presence, was exactly what I needed. "Yes, please."

"I'll be there soon," he promised, before hanging up the phone.

I clutched my phone tightly, the reassurance of Seungmin’s promise echoing in my mind. The weight of the morning’s argument felt a bit lighter now, replaced with the anticipation of seeing him again. I knew I needed to pull myself together before he arrived.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up and walked to the bathroom connected to my room. Splashing cold water on my face, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Red-rimmed eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, it was clear I had been crying. I took a few moments to compose myself, running my fingers through my hair and tidying up my appearance as best as I could.

The moment I stepped back into my room, I heard two soft knocks at my door.

Opening the door, I was met with his concerned gaze. He looked as if he had rushed over, slightly out of breath, but his eyes softened as they met mine.

"Hi," he said gently, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. "Are you alright?"

I nodded, but the tears threatened to spill again. "Better now that you're here."

He pulled me into a tight embrace, and I clung to him, feeling the tension melt away. "I'm here," he murmured into my hair. "I've got you."

For a few moments, we stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, finding solace in the shared silence. Finally, he pulled back slightly, looking into my eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed, nodding. "It's just... my mom and I argued. She doesn't understand how hard it is to lose your dad and then all of a sudden never have a place to call home again, and she thinks dating a bunch of guys will somehow fix our problems."

Seungmin's expression softened with understanding as he listened. He guided me over to the edge of the bed, where we sat down together, he scanned my face and wiped away the stray tears. 

“What if… she’s really in love with Joon?” I said, my voice shaky, “What does that mean for us..?” 

Fear was in my eyes as I scanned his face, as he was thinking of how to respond.

Seungmin held my gaze for a long moment, his brow furrowed in thought as he considered my question. He reached out, gently brushing his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the last remnants of tears.

"I don't know what it means for us," he began softly, his voice carrying a mix of concern and reassurance. "But I do know that whatever happens between your mom and my dad, it doesn't change how I feel about you. I like you a lot, and I want to be here for you, no matter what."

His words eased some of the fear tightening my chest. I leaned into his touch, seeking comfort in his presence. "I'm scared," I admitted quietly, feeling vulnerable.

"I understand," Seungmin replied, his voice tender. “But I’m not giving you up, that’s not an option I’d ever consider.”

I placed a soft kiss on his lips  He smiled, and I knew everything was going to be alright.

[harpersdragons]

Theft in the Family...By Jason Todd, CHapter 5!

Finally finals are over and my self imposed writing ban is lifted, so enjoy the longer than usual chapter!

I'm not even a little sorry about the cliff hanger

Jason knows they aren’t safe where they are, he should probably move safehouses every day.

But—

But Damian slept most of the next day, only waking up briefly to eat and let Jason check his head wound. It made sense he would be tired, yesterday was stressful and he’s injured. Jason doesn’t want to wake him up just to take another convoluted route to another safehouse.

Hell, he doesn’t even have that many safehouses to burn!

He can’t keep using Bruce’s, someone will catch on, and Jason doesn’t believe for a second he could actually outsmart Bruce’s system, or Barbara when Bruce inevitably gets her to check it.

There’s not a lot of food, since Bruce only keeps these safehouses stocked with emergency rations, there’s no perishables and barely any dishes.

He’ll probably need to make a grocery run soon, but he really doesn’t want to wake the kid. Besides, it’ll have hit the news by now that Bruce’s newest son is missing, and leaving will just draw attention to them. He can’t go out as Phoenix, Damian can’t go out as himself.

Seems like there’s only one solution.

_________________________________________________

Bruce nearly collapses onto the couch in the middle of Phoenix’s apartment, the photo of his son and Talia clutched in his hand.

The apartment had been vacated by the time they got there, with no clues as to where they had gone next.

Damian’s probably 3 or 4 in the picture, grinning wildly at his mother.

He can’t lose another son.

He’s only known Damian for a few weeks, but he can’t lose him.

“C’mon, B, we gotta get out of here.” Dick pulls him off the couch and leads him towards the door. “We’ll get Dames back, but that won’t happen if you just sit here.”

He lets Dick lead him out, TIm following shortly after.

When they all pile into one of Bruce’s cars, Tim speaks up. “So…I may have planted a few bugs.”

“Tim—”

“Hear me out. We didn’t take anything, we left something. Ergo, it’s not illegal. I connected them to Babs’ system.”

“That’s not how the law works.” Dick facepalms.

"We're literally vigilantes! We break the law all the time, is this really the hill you want to die on?"

Bruce lets the boys’ bickering fade into the background.

He doesn’t remember the drive home.

He does remember the pounding his chest.

He remembers the spike of panic in his chest

What if they don’t find Damian?

Or worse, what if they do, but he chooses to stay with Phoenix?

Dick had mentioned he asked to go with the crime lord.

He can’t lose another son

He can’t be too late

Alfred makes them all go up to bed as soon as they get home (they may have been out all night searching Gotham), despite their protests.

A few hours later, after his short nap, Bruce makes his way down to the cave.

He pulls Tim’s mask footage, replaying the interaction between him and Phoenix without audio. He can still tell what’s going on pretty easily. As soon as Tim lands on the scene, Phoenix shifts to put his body between Tim and Damian.

At some point, when Bruce can only assume Tim is demanding the crime lord hand Damian over, Phoenix protectively tucks Damian further into his cape.

His youngest son looks sluggish almost, barely moving through the whole interaction. Dick had mentioned that, but seeing it was another story. It’s entirely different from how he’s been acting, even when Damian was exhausted, he never showed it.

Bruce flips through the footage over and over again, frame by frame.

He analyzes Phoenix’s posture, the way he effortlessly cradles Damian.

Eventually, he turns on the audio and lets it play through at his normal speed.

All seemed normal, until—

Until he could just barely pick up Damian’s sleepy voice.

“Incoming, Akhi.” Damian’s words are slurred, and his head barely shifts, but his eyes are trained in one direction.

Bruce stills, replaying the moment in hopes he’ll hear something different.

It’s not different, he didn’t hear wrong.

Akhi.

Not only does Damian know his kidnapper, he apparently asked to be taken (according to Phoenix, anyway, Bruce isn’t entirely sure how much he trusts that), he’s close to his kidnapper.

Close enough to call him brother.

Bruce has already had his suspicions, but this just confirms it.

The league has his son.

Again.

And if Damian is close enough to Phoenix to call him brother, Bruce may not get him back.

He can’t lose another son.

_________________________________________________

Jason waits until it’s well after dark to enact his plan.

The Bats will surely be on patrol, scouring the city for Damian, but as long as he doesn’t wear his gear, they shouldn’t look twice at him.

He just needs to run into Crime Alley and grab his and Damian’s old League gear (don’t ask him why he has it, Talia shoved a bag into his hands and said not to ask questions).

It should be simple, but if he’s not in gear he can’t grapple across the city—even if he did, it would take hours—so, he needs a car.

And he knows just how to get one.

_________________________________________________

Dick is perfectly fine.

No really, he is.

He’s used to his brothers going missing.

He’s used to hostage situations, kidnappings, attempted murders.

All part of the job.

Hell, that’s part of life as a high profile celebrity.

So Dick is 100% fine. He can deal.

He’s definitely not driving himself insane looking for his baby brother, who is currently being held captive by a crime lord and possible league assassin.

They’ve been working in shifts to find him, starting after Alfred forced them to take a nap. Currently it’s Tim, Steph, and Cass’ turn to scour the city. He and Bruce took the late afternoon shift, right after they woke up and ate enough to satisfy Alfred.

Bruce is manning the comms, technically still “resting”, and Dick is definitely not pacing the cave.

He’s pacing the manor, instead.

A few backflips later, and Alfred banned him from the manor until he’s burned off his restless energy.

Although, he’s still banned from patrolling until the current vigilantes come back.

Bruce is sitting just where Dick left him, glaring at the Batcomputer.

Dick comes to a stop in the middle of the cave, staring at the wall.

“Do you think, maybe we should call the Justice League in for this?” He calls, not bothering to look at Bruce.

“Hn.” Bruce grunts in response, as articulate as ever.

“I mean, after what happened the last time one of us was taken by a crime lord…”

“Dick.”

“I’m just saying! We need to find him, B, and the Justice League, or at least Superman, would probably be helpful!”

“Barbara called the Birds of Prey. That’s enough people searching for him.”

Dick whirls around, stalking towards the computer. “Do you even care? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. I mean, I know he was only here for a couple of weeks, but c’mon Bruce! He’s your son! You’ve barely spent time with him, and now you don’t even seem to care that he was taken!”

“Of course I care, Dick, he’s my son. I’m doing everything I can to find him.”

“Not everything.” Dick scoffs—though he grabs a cookie from the tray on the desk— and spins on his heel again, heading towards the training area. He has some acrobatic equipment there, and flying should burn off this energy.

Bruce must have looked up to see where he was going, or maybe to continue their argument, because he calls out, “Safety net, Dick.”

“Fuck off.”

“Richard.”

Dick waves a hand over his shoulder, disappearing into the sectioned off training area.

He makes sure his safety net is set up properly (not because Bruce told him to, but he’s not an idiot) before climbing to the platform.

He leaps, grabbing the trapeze bar, then twisting and hooking his legs. He lets himself dangle upside down for several moments, the bar swinging back and forth, before he rights himself and builds momentum to jump to the next bar.

He loses track of time going through a simple routine.

He leaps and flips through the air, hangs upside down, does handstands on the bar.

And still, the buzzing, restless energy is there.

Usually trapeze settles him, the freefall and head rush from being upside calms something in him, in a way not much else can.

But this time it didn’t work.

He makes his way back over to the platform, landing in a salute on instinct. He cocks his head in thought, learning a new skill could focus him enough to burn off the extra energy.

He’s been wanting to learn aerial silks, and they have the supplies to do it.

Bruce had bought all kinds of equipment when Dick moved in, he wasn’t quite sure what Dick would want to practice on when he was younger.

He’s seen aerial silk performances, watched videos on how to do beginner moves. He’s fairly confident he can figure this out.

With a plan in mind, he sets about taking down the trapezes, unclipping them and letting them fall to the safety net below. Once that’s done, he unclips the net itself, as it’s not necessary for the silks. He can practice pretty low to the ground, besides, they have thick mats on the ground for a reason.

He checks the silks themselves and makes sure they’re still sturdy, then goes about securing them.

Finally ready to begin, he thinks through the motions he’d seen people do in the videos.

…and when he tries them he promptly falls on his face.

Again

And again

And again

Just as he thinks he’s finally starting to get the basic locks, the alarm rings through the cave.

Dick untangles himself from the silks (if he gets more tangled in the process, that’s between him and the empty room) and jogs out of the training area. He can just barely see Bruce disappearing up the stairs.

So not a bat emergency.

...Probably

He glances between the stairs and the computer, ultimately deciding to see whatever triggered the lock down procedure.

No use barging upstairs completely unprepared for whatever situation is there.

On the computer, security footage is frozen on a single frame.

A man, dressed in cargo pants and an oversized hoodie (impressive, considering the man is close to Bruce’s size), with dark hair and a startlingly white streak falling over his forehead.

Part of his face is obscured by a domino mask, and clearly a good quality one at that.

He’s standing in front of the Murcielago, flipping off the camera, and a wild grin splits his face.

There’s a stack of tires in the corner behind him, tire iron gripped in the hand not flipping the camera off.

The weird thing is (even weirder that is), the footage is dated to 2 hours ago.

That shouldn’t be possible.

Bruce has an absurd amount of alarms and sensors all around the manor, it should have alerted the second it picked up on an unrecognized presence.

Dick rushes upstairs to the garage, and he finds Bruce standing in an empty parking spot. There’s keys scattered on the ground, the board that usually holds them has been tossed carelessly across the floor. Most of the cars are untouched, except for the missing one and the Murcielago. It’s missing its tires, but the thief didn’t actually take them. They’re stacked up on the wall behind the car, just like they appeared on the footage.

Bruce isn’t even looking at his car though, focused solely on the missing one.

Dick catalogs the cars present, running them against the ones he knew should be there.

Jason’s car.

The thief stole the car Bruce meant to give to Jason for his 16th birthday.

_________________________________________________

Just before Jason steps out the door to “his” (Bruce’s) safehouse, grapple hooked on his belt (you think he’s walking all the way to the manor? Fuck no. the safehouse is close, but not that close), the lights flicker, and a speaker crackles.

Jason freezes, eyes flicking over to Damian’s sleeping form.

The kid didn’t stir, and nothing else seems out of place.

His hand creeps over to the gun strapped to his thigh, before a voice filters through the speaker.

“Jason Peter Todd!” A familiar voice shouts.

Barbara. Of course.

He’d foolishly assumed she’d left Gotham, or was otherwise out of the vigilante game.

Nope.

She’d just moved to behind the scenes.

“...Are we gonna have a problem, Barbie?”

“Oh, we already have a problem. Multiple of them, actually.”

“Right. Could we discuss this later? I have shit to do.”

“Nope. Sit your ass down.” Her voice is still too loud, he can see Damian start to shift in his sleep.

“Only if you lower the voice. If you wake Damian up, we’re gonna have a whole separate problem.”

“Is that seriously your only concern?” Despite the disdain dripping from her voice, she does speak softer.

Jason sits on the couch, fiddling with the blanket covering Damian.

“The kid’s got a concussion, it’s much more pleasant for us all if he sleeps it off.”

“Fine.” She pauses, taking a breath before continuing, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were alive?”

“What, you mean when I came back? Or when I woke up.”

“Either, both. We would have helped you, Jason.”

“Well, Talia picked me up, and I didn’t really have a way to contact you. Nor did I want to. When I came back, I told Alfred when I dropped the kid off. No one else needed to know.”

“Jay…”

“I’m doing perfectly fine on my own, Barbie. I don’t need your pity.” He stands, heading for the door. “If that’s all, I have shit to do.”

“Sit back down, I’m not done.”

“Well hurry up, then.”

“Why did you take Damian?”

“Y’mean besides the fact he asked me to?” Jason shrugs, “I missed the kid, Bruce clearly isn’t paying enough attention to him. My kid, my rules.”

“He’s not your kid, though.”

“May as well be.”

Damian wakes up, then, “Akhi?” The word slurs sleepily, and something in Jason softens.

“Hey, Habibi.” He strides back over to the couch. “How’s your head feeling?”

Damian shrugs, reaching for him.

“Well that’s descriptive, Princeling.” Jason obliges him, scooping the kid up and settling him on his hip. “Y’hungry? You slept through dinner.” There’s not much here, but he found some cans of soup.

He distantly hears Barbara coo through the speaker, and flips off the room behind him. There’s a camera somewhere, she’ll get the message.

Damian shakes his head before resting it on Jason’s shoulder.

“Well ya gotta eat somethin’, kid.”

“Clearly you two are fine. Want some help with whatever plan you have concocted?” Babs speaks again.

Jason smirks, carrying Damian to the kitchen and setting him in a chair. “Wanna help me fuck with Bruce?”

“...That depends. What’s the plan?”

“I need an agreement you won’t rat me out to the old man. I don’t want him to know where I am, or that I’m alive.”

“I’ll agree, on the condition you tell him eventually. And that you return Damian or work out a custody agreement.”

“Barbie...you know he doesn't want me there. It's better for all involved if he doesn't know I'm alive."

"I have no clue where you got that stupid ass idea," He can hear her digh on the other line, "Problem for another day. If you want my help, I need you to agree to my terms."

"...Fine. Deal.” Jason is not pouting. He's above that.

“Ok then. What’s the plan?”

Jason talks her through the plan, and where she would come in while he ladles some soup into a bowl for Damian. He can’t completely overwrite the security system, or loop it like she can.

Once he has Babs’ agreement, and Damian is fed (and quickly falling back asleep), Jason gets ready to head out again.

“Ok, Dames, I have to go out for a bit. I should be back in about an hour and a half, two hours tops. Will you be ok on your own?”

Damian just nods his agreement, and Jason takes him back to the bedroom to sleep some more.

Once he’s thrown on a domino mask, dark oversized hoodie and cargo pants, Babs hacks his phone and puts her number in it, along with a message.

You can enter as normal, your access was never erased. I’ll cover your tracks, loop the cameras, and make sure you don’t trigger the sensors.

Jason smirks, and begins the journey towards Wayne Manor.

He’s lost some time due to Barbara’s delay, but hopefully he’ll still be able to get through his plan.

Once he finally arrives at the gate, he enters his code and watches as the buzzer turns green, the gates opening slowly.

Jason grins, and makes his way towards the manor.

His original goal was just to take a car, but now that he’s here…

May as well have more fun than that.

First stop: Bruce’s bedroom.

He needs to get his baby brother’s book back.

He still can’t believe Bruce took that from him, he never once took Jason’s books when he was younger, but the one time Damian is reading one of Jason’s books, there’s a problem.

No matter, Jason will just steal his book back.

Thankfully, the tree he always used to sneak in and out (usually unsuccessfully, but only due to the sensors in the yard. This time, he has Barbara covering for him) is still there, and he’s able to scale it and make his way into his old bedroom.

From there, it’s easy to make it down the hall without being seen.

He cracks the door quietly, resolutely not thinking about how familiar the action is, from all the times he’d sought comfort from Bruce at night.

He doesn’t get that anymore.

He never will, and he’s accepted that.

…hasn’t he?

Jason shakes the thoughts off as he crosses the threshold of the room.

The book is pretty easy to find, it’s just sitting on Bruce’s nightstand.

Jason grabs it, taking a second to read some of his old annotations.

Bruce’s bed is as comfortable as Jason remembers, and it’s a battle to stand up and walk out.

Maybe he could come home?

The Bruce he remembered would welcome him.

But—

I’m not your father. I don’t have time for your teenage rebellion

No.

Jason doesn’t need him.

He’s here for a reason, anyway.

Shaking his head to clear the thoughts, Jason forces himself to leave the room, to leave his fath-- Bruce behind.

It’s a bit more risky to get to the garage, he has to stay in the open a lot longer than the short path from his old room to Bruce’s. If he miscalculated, or just spent too long talking with Barbara, and the bats are already back from patrol, he could get caught.

He forces himself to walk slowly, paying attention to make sure there is no one around the corners.

All his caution is futile though, as he passes Bruce’s study, Alfred appears in his path. Both of them freeze, and Jason opens his mouth to stay something. His jaw snaps shut at a raised eyebrow from him, and Alfred extends a tray full of various snacks towards him.

Jason tentatively snags a cookie off the tray and starts walking past him. Alfred nods once, and continues into the study.

The rest of the way to the garage is clear, thankfully.

Jason tucks the book into a pocket in his cargo pants—thankfully this copy is a small paperback, not the larger hardback like the first edition in the library—and heads over to the wall of keys.

The choice is pretty easy, he wants to fuck with Bruce as much as possible.

He grabs the keys for the red Toyota Camry, specifically the car Bruce was set to give Jason for his 16th birthday. The car they picked out together.

He pockets the keys, and just before he’s about to turn and leave, an idea strikes him. A small smirk spreads across his face, as he grabs the edge of the boarding holding the keys, and tosses it across the ground. The keys scatter, like intended.

With that handled, there’s only one more thing he needs to do before heading back to Damian.

He finds a tire iron in a nearby tool cabinet, and spins it casually as he walks towards Bruce’s favorite car: the Lamborghini Murcielago.

Because of course the fucker had to go with a car that means bat in spanish.

Jackass.

For an expensive car, the tires are pretty easy to steal. Bruce should work on that, you’d think he learned after a little punk stole his tires the first time.

He gets the tires off quickly, and rolls them to the side.

He grins, turning to one of the cameras in the garage, and flips it off.

Dropping the tire iron to the ground, he heads back to the camry.

He has a kid to get back to.

By the time Jason is pulling up to the safehouse again, Babs has dealt with covering his tracks and sending the footage to Bruce.

The sky is starting to lighten, the sun not quite rising yet.

There’s a bag of food sitting on the front step, and he scoops that up on his way in. He sets it on the counter and peels his domino mask off, then pulls Pride and Prejudice out of his pocket.

He runs his fingers through his hair as he heads to the bedroom to check on Damian, exhaustion weighing on him.

Only, when he opens the door, Damian is nowhere to be found.

The sheets are rumpled, there’s an indent on the pillow where Damian was sleeping.

But the kid is nowhere in sight.

Jason’s heart drops, chest constricting as he tears through the rest of the house.

There’s not much ground to cover, but the conclusion is the same.

Damian is gone.

[thelonelyshore-if]

I’ve been replaying the demo, and every single time I just. I love Ravi. He’s so annoying and suspicious. Caring but distant. He invites you to stay at his house then immediately makes you feel like an unwanted guest–before you even get to his house. He’s a bag of contradictions and oddities. I just want to shake him. Wtf is wrong with drinking plain water, you absolute prune?? We’re roommates who are putting each other under a microscope like lab specimens. We’re annoying each other for fun. Why do you act like that? You’re so off-putting, you’re so endearing. We’re not besties, we’re not worsties, we’re some unnatural and disturbing hybrid. I almost want to stay with him on purpose to annoy him more.

That said, I will absolutely ditch him if you give me the option to stay with Beck or Perri in chapter 3. Call Beck up since they gave me their number like “Hey, turns out I’ll be sticking around for a while, but I had a disagreement with my current host. I sure could use a hero again, if you don’t mind. Plus, we get to hang out more :)” Or look up/ask for Perri’s number and call them up. “So, I’m actually going to be in town for a bit, but I no longer feel comfortable staying with my current host. If it’s not too much trouble, could I stay with you? Plus, it would give us the opportunity to talk more about that interview, since I’m stuck here Willingly Choosing To Stick Around :)” (Goodness, I think about these two too much. I've already got more Beck/Perri fog secrets thoughts to share, but it feels too similar to what I've already said.)

I want to print out this ask and put it on my wall. I've reread it like three times today and I'm just sitting here kicking my feet and twirling my hair.

Ravi is a walking pile of contradictions and I'm glad he comes across as such. I think about him every single day.

Also I'm dying you're not the first person to be baffled by his vendetta against plain water and you probably won't be the last. It's so funny to me. He's sooooo judgy for no reason I love him.

Staying with Ravi just to launch a campaign to annoy him is 100% a valid option ngl, but I'm excited to say that I will be adding stay with Perri and stay with Beck routes!!! Because I deserve a little bit of unnecessary branching, as a treat, and I think you all will enjoy them, too.

Plus it makes me laugh. Ditching the person you met two days ago to stay with one of the people you met yesterday.

No pressure to share your thoughts, but I would love to read them if you decided you wanted to!! Even if they were similar to previous ones. I love getting asks and reading people's thoughts about the characters and the story. It hypes me up to keep writing <3

[danvy121994]

promised pt 2

authors note: hello! sorry for being so inactive but I have lots of exams wright now and I managed to this chapter just yesterday. Hope you enjoy! <3

also I’m new to the world of fan fiction writhing so if anyone can tell me how to respond in the comments it would be amazing! also thanks everyone for the support!

anthony bridgerton x reader

synopsis: after the ceremony, you realise that you won’t be as sad as you thought you would be with the bridgerton

He couldn’t believe that in a week he would be wed to a woman he had never met, in fact he believed that if it wasn’t for that foolish pact that her mother had with her silly little friend, he would have wed sometime in his thirties, not out of love of course, he would have simply chosen the diamond of the season and marry her, it wouldn’t have been that hard since he’s a viscount, but of course his mother wasn’t really fond of his future projects even if over the course of the years his mother actually regretted the decision of marrying him of , or at least that’s what she said; but that now didn’t matter because he was in the only place in which he felt comfortable in past few weeks before the marriage, in his favorites mistress arms, on her bed, after a long night full of desire and longing, but even that couldn’t stop he’s thought on the matter, since he found out about the agreement he’s been asking around about the girl he was going to marry, her mother didn’t knew much she just told him that she was a very beautiful girl and that she was very polite and studious, but that was all she knew, and asking other gentlemen’s led him to nothing, for all he knew she lived on the country side, kind of isolated and has never interacted much with the ton, she appeared for the first time in London during her first season, in wich she got courted from a couple of gentlemen that were quickly sent away, but that was everything he knew, it wasn’t nothing of course, but still, he was marring a complete stranger.

“Come on brother! The worst that could happen its her looking like an ogre!”

needles to say that after sais comment, Colin Bridgerton got rightfully hit in the head by a flying fan, lady Danbury looked at the boy and with an offended tone replayed “ I’ve meet lady Y/S/N personally, and let me tall you, she’s a fantastic woman, she will integrate well with the family!”. Obviously out of all the people that he asked to he didn’t ask lady Danbury, of course! As soon has he got the courage of asking lady Dembury more about you, the priest informed him that the ceremony was starting and not long after the doors of the church opened, The Woman was walking arm in arm with who he supposed was her father, he was an interesting man, not handsome but not ugly, he also managed to have a look at her mother and for her age she wasn’t that displeasing, in fact she looked quite younger than his mother, maybe she was, considering that he didn’t know much about his spouse’s family either, he could only guess. As soon as she reached the altar both her and her father bowed, and since he is a gentleman he did the same, the Woman then stepped up the steps of the rostrum and positioned herself before him; she still had her veil covering her face but he could kind of see her face; and then she took it of. Anthony was pleased of the fact that at least he didn’t have to procreate and look at a hideous face for the rest of his life, in fact she was kind of pleasing to the eye, maybe even beautiful.

After the end of the ceremony he didn’t speak a single word to her, did he think she was ugly? If that was the case then maybe she was more free than she thought, she wouldn’t have to go through the whole horrible experience of having to bed with the Viscount and maybe he would only speak to her when necessary, maybe it was a good thing, she was thinking to herself whilst her mother and Lady Violet Bridgerton were speaking to one another, but that didn’t last long before she was whisked away from a pair of strong arm, when she turned, she saw a girl, a couple of years younger tha her and she was wearing the Bridgerton signature color, light blue, and beside her another girl, much shorter and with a bright yellow dress, that was quite inadequate to the occasion, after a litte bit of explaining you found out about their names, the girl in blu was named Eloise, the one in yellow Penelope Fethetington; the three of you started talking, and for once during the whole day you felt that you were in the wright place with the wright people, “ and I love her ok, but just because she was the diamond last season, now people have high expectations on me and I don’t wanna let them down” Eloise as been talking about this for about an hour, and you felt bad for her, you haven’t known her for long but could already tell how much her family didn’t understand her, from their eyes she was just a troubled girl who was looking for attention, and it couldn’t have been farther from the truth, as both you and Penelope were trying to help her speak of her emotions ,someone , who you recognised as one of the Bridgerton brothers since he was standing with the Viscount at the altar, came in the room in wich you girls were hiding, “ what are you girls doing?” Said the Bridgerton, “ our new Viscountess has to have a ball with Anthony to open the dances” he said looking at you “Of course, my apologies” you said and after bowing, you got whisked by said brother to dance in the arms of your husband.

(another) author note: Hi! I hope you are enjoying my story<3 I don’t know when I’m going to post the continue of this story, but as soon as I can i’ll start writhing again! also I was wondering if anyone would be interested in a mike schimit x reader fan fiction, maybe a one shot, let me know in the comments!

tag list: @khaylin27

[taylorsv3rsion13]

we never go out of style || c.f.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

tw: skinny dipping- being naked in an unsafe situation

words: 2.8k

synopsis : things were always rocky for conrad and you. after the whole break up, will everything be the same the year later? or will it all turn to shit.

Ever since that stupid kiss everything has been complicated.

I wore the puffy dress for Susannah. The gorgeous but heavy puffy white dress.

It wasn't super hot out, but it felt like it was with this thing weighing me down. I did try my hardest to sit still for Susannah though.

"Everything okay?" Susannah asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, just warm right now." I smiled.

"Just a little longer." Susannah said before looking back at the portrait and then sighing to look at me, "Don't you just love that dress."

I sighed, "Yep, I love it."

I didn't hate it, no, I just didn't love it either.

"You excited for the volleyball tournament?"

"Yeah, I can't wait! I had a lot of time during the school year with volleyball, so I think I'll do pretty good. My only worry is Belly and Steven."

"And which charity are you representing?" Susannah asked, smiling.

"Oh um, the same one you support." I said nodding, "The homeless women's shelter."

She chuckled softly, "That's sweet of you, Y/N/N. Thank you."

I nodded before messing with my dress again.

"Now sit still, I just need to add some more of those frills." Susannah said.

I began making my water, adding in electrolytes and everything.

My shirt had a "Team Y/N" name on the back and it had purple 3/4 length sleeves. I roughly put my hair in a ponytail.

"Hey, Y/N" Conrad said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Oh hey." I said, giving him a quick smile.

"What's that?" He asked.

I looked up to him. "Drugs." I said jokingly.

"Mm delicious." He responded, laughing a little. "Feeling good about the tournament?"

"Yeah, I'm ready." I said, nodding.

"You know, if you stay ready, you won't have to get ready later."

I laughed softly because of how dumb that had sounded from him. "That was, an interesting statement."

"Yeah." He said, laughing a little as well.

I continued with my water in front of me.

"Y/N" Conrad said, yet his voice dropped to seriousness.

"Mhm?" I hummed.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? Being cheesy?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I looked up at him.

He sighed, "For being a jerk the other day, and pretending like I didn't remember, when I remember everything. I've been just replaying it over and over again in my head for the last couple of days."

I shook my head, "Conrad, I just don't know what you want me to say"

"I know, Y/N. It's to late, I get it. Um..."

I looked down awkwardly, not really understanding where Conrad was trying to go with this.

"Can I take you to the ball?"

I looked up at him strangely, "What?"

"I mean, I already know all the dances. It's no problem."

The doorbell rang, "Uh, I'll-I'll think about it."

As I opened the door, Taylor stood there.

"Taylor?!" I asked in surprise.

"Y/N?!"

We both hugged each other as Belly came down.

"You guys have some catching up to do." I said as I smiled.

"Y/N, don't think I didn't hear everything!" Belly called out as I walked up the stairs.

"Wait up!" Taylor called as her and Belly followed after me into my room.

Taylor put on her shirt as she asked my multiple questions and Belly answered them how she saw it.

"He was begging." Belly said.

"He was not begging" I said.

"He should be begging." Taylor said. "And this makes things so much more exciting because you get to tell him no."

I didn't answer as I looked through my phone.

Belly turned to me. "You're going to tell him no?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't have a date for the ball-"

"Okay ask Jere. It's not like you guys didn't kiss yesterday.

"You guys kissed?!" Taylor asked.

"No! It's not like that."

"Yes, it's totally like that!" Belly laughed.

Taylor was on my team, and Cameron was on Belly's team. I was pretty happy. But Cameron and Belly were a good duo, it made me more nervous.

The games started and Taylor and I went through the process.

Also with a random hand shake we had somehow made up on the spot.

"Play sharp, play smart." We both stated as we stood in our spots.

The whistle blew and the ball was thrown. The first round we had won, luck?

The second round against this team began again as I dived to get the ball with one hand.

"Nice!" I shouted as Taylor hit it over the net neatly.

Taylor fell hard on the ground as she attempted to get the ball. I ran quickly over to her.

"Oh my god, are you okay?" I asked.

"No, it's just... ugh, my ankle."

"Here, let me help you." I said as I grabbed her arms.

"You okay, Taylor?" Jeremiah called out from the stands.

"Yeah, I just like twisted it."

Taylor turned over to Jeremiah, "Can you sub, please?" She asked, taking off her shirt and throwing it over to him.

And here, the games began again, as I stood playing next to Jeremiah.

I practiced the handshake with him and he immediately got it.

I wouldn't say he was the best at volleyball, but he wasn't the worst. Yet he was better the first couple of rounds that he did play. The more we played, the worst his game got.

I ran into his arms as he gave a good throw. "Yeah!" I shouted.

Because of that, we were able to make it to the second game.

The second game was harder. The girls took it much more seriously than the guys we played against before.

Jeremiah had missed the ball as it went under his arms.

One round, the ball didn't even go over the net and he was flung into it.

I grew a little more frustrated as each round happened. I had to win.

"Okay, don't look at me, watch the ball." I stated.

"You got it." He said as he looked at me and the ball passed right by his face.

"Jere focus!" I yelled.

The score was now 10 to 2. And I wish I could say that we were 10.

I sighed as I looked at the score board. Now 17 to 7. "Ref can we get a time out." I said as the whistle blew.

I looked over, seeing Conrad staring straight at me from the side lines.

"I'm so sorry, Jeremiah, but I have to win this, okay?"

"Yeah, I get it." he said.

"Conrad, can you sub in." I asked.

Jeremiah took off the shirt, tossing it over to Conrad.

"Where do you want me?" Conrad asked.

"The start up." I said.

"All right, let's do this." He patted a hand on my back.

I definitely made the right move. Conrad knew how important this was for me and he definitely helped. I should've picked him as my volleyball partner all along, I justt forgot how could he was.

I smiled and laughed with Conrad as the ball was just inches away from being out when he threw it over. He ran to me and hugged me, lifting me off the ground a little.

The semi finals were hard. We were going up against Cam and Belly. I did a quick handshake with Conrad before getting in the zone. It was a close match. Closer than all the rest that happened today, but Conrad and I still beat them.

It was now left to us versus Shayla and Steven.

The game went back and forth as our scores were always almost tied.

"That was it. You got it." Conrad said as we stood in the middle of the court, doing our small handshake.

I hit the ball and watched as Shayla and Steven were too far, not being able to run after it. It fell to the ground on their side.

"Oh!" Conrad exclaimed as we both started jumping up and down in excitement.

He hugged me and now fully lifted me off the floor as we celebrated our win.

Susannah had made it to the mic quicker than I anticipated as she shouted, "And the winners are Y/N L/N and Conrad Fisher!"

"Nice game." I said to Shayla and Steven as they congratulated us.

Susannah came running at us with the large trophy, giving me a hug.

"You guys were amazing." She said, "Oh, you two make such a great team. Did you ask her yet?"

"Ask me what?" I asked.

"To be your escort." Susannah said, smiling. "I told him he had to ask you, since, you know, you haven't decided yet."

"Congratulations!" Laurel said as she hugged Conrad and I.

I avoided making eye contact with Conrad. He was forced into asking me to be my escort. He didn't want to.

"Nice ankle." I said laughing as I pushed Taylor lightly into Belly.

"Hey, Y/N." I heard Nicole say from behind me.

"Oh, hi Nicole." I said.

"Um, so my dad's boat just came up from Anguilla and I was wondering if you'd like to come and have some pizza and a rosé in a few hours? It's just something fun to end the day. And you all are welcome to come." Nicole said as she motioned to Belly and Taylor besides me.

"Will Kayla be there?" Taylor asked.

"You mean Shayla, and no, she has plans with Liam and everyone." Nicole said.

"Oh yeah, we'll be there." Taylor said, giving her a smile.

"See you later, Nicole!" I said as Belly dragged me with her and Taylor.

We walked n the dock. Taylor wearing a blue cropped tank top with jean shorts and two fishtail braids, Belly wearing her hair curled, with a bright pink top and blue jean shorts, and I was wearing a black and white tube top with a pair of low waisted jean shorts.

The girls were talking about boy drama and school stuff as I walked besides them. On a large boat stood 4 girls and one in a red crew neck.

"Girls."

"What?" They both asked before their eyes lay on the large boat.

"Y/N!" Nicole yelled as she waved from on top of the boat.

"Fuck me." Taylor said as Belly said, "Oh my god."

We did many things before the sunset, but once it got dark, we started saying truths and putting a finger down each time we had done something.

Belly had most of her fingers still up, and I had most of mine as well, not budging for most of them.

"Put a finger down if you've ever made out with Jeremiah Fisher." Taylor said, smirking at me.

I rolled my eyes as I put down one of my fingers.

The girls gasped as Gigi acted as if her heart was just shot.

"Wow, I'm sorry Gigi." I laughed.

"No it's fine, take my man." She said as she laughed as well.

"It wasn't anything. I didn't even mean for it to happen, nor did I really want it."

"I always thought there was something going on with you and Conrad, I guess I had the wrong brother though." Nicole said.

I hummed a 'mhm' to her, not really knowing what to say.

"Put a finger down if you've ever gone skinny-dipping at Hopper's Cove." Nicole said.

"Is that a dare?" Taylor asked.

"Oh absolutely." Nicole responded.

Taylor, Belly, and I were the first to hop in as we all splashed each other with the cold water. Yeah, it was kind of awkward just being naked, but it also felt freeing.

"Hey! Watch out for Jellyfish, I don't want to have to pee on any of you guys." Gigi exclaimed as she ran down the dock.

"The other two girls are missing out." Taylor said as she laughed.

Nicole agreed, "Yeah I was expecting them to come as well.

"Nicole." Gigi called out.

"Yeah?" Nicole asked.

"Conrad's texting you."

"Okay, coming." Nicole said as she swam over.

"I actually like them." Taylor said from beside us, which made us laugh.

The lights of the cars shown brightly before us.

"I knew they were bitches." Taylor spat.

"What's happening." Belly asked.

"Fuck." I mumbled as I swam closer to the dock.

Taylor got to the dock before I could.

"They took everything." She said. "Except for Y/N's phone, which has a really incriminating text from Connie..."

"Wait what? What does it say?" I asked as I swam right beside Taylor.

"My mom did ask me to ask you to the ball, but that's not why I did it. I did it because I wanted to." Taylor read out.

"Oh my god." Belly and I both said in unison.

Belly and Taylor both began questioning what to do, trying to make the best out of the situation which only made me laugh.

"We can not walk home naked." Belly said.

"What about that?" I asked, pointing to a boat cover.

I could see Taylor tense up from beside me.

"No." She whined.

We began our walk home, draped in a boat covering. It was cold, and we smelled like a boat, which didn't make anything any better.

"I don't know what I'm going to do." I said. Taylor seemed to understand.

"Pick Jeremiah duh." She said from beside me.

"But, Susannah told me to give people second chances. We didn't know anything when we first dated. It's different now." I said.

"Y/N, I'll support you, I just don't want you to get hurt." Belly said from beside me.

"I still think about when Conrad and I were still dating. How safe he made me feel." I said.

"But Jeremiah is head over heels for you." Taylor said from beside me.

"Okay? What If I don't know if I like him." I stated, puffing out a sigh.

I don't know when, or how, but we had somehow gave up on walking home as we just prayed and sat on the curb.

Two bright car lights came and all of us sighed.

"God, they're going to lecture us." I mumbled.

"Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?" Jeremiah asked.

"What are you doing here." Taylor said, venom lacing her voice as she looked at Conrad.

"Nicole... she had told me um..." He motioned to the covering on us.

"I hope you told her to watch her back." Taylor said.

Conrad nodded as we took the plastic bag of our clothes.

We walked to the lights of the cars as we told them to hold the covering up as we began to redress ourselves.

"Are you going with Jeremiah or Conrad?" Belly asked me.

"I don't know. I guess, Conrad." Was all I could say.

"Crazy night." Conrad said as I hopped into the passenger seat of his car.

"Yeah, it didn't have to be though." I said, staring at him, "Quit playing these stupid games with me. I don't know if you want me or not, but I want a clear answer."

He didn't say anything has he drove.

"I'm sorry, but I've made my decision, and I'm asking Jeremiah to be my escort." I said.

Conrad's emotion didn't change much, but I could see the way his hand grew tenser on the wheel and how his other hand was stiff around the gear shift.

I didn't want the drama. And if I brought Conrad as my escort, there would be more drama than I needed.

That night, I slept in Belly's room, having a sleepover with Taylor and her.

I scrolled endlessly on my phone, not being able to fall asleep.

And of course, Conrad just had to text me.

"U up?" was all he asked.

I sighed as I got up quietly from the bed, walking out of the room without waking any of the girls up.

I walked out onto the dock, seeing Conrad's figure.

"Hey." was all he said, his voice deep and raspy.

"What the hell do you want from me? You're so fucking confusing Conrad! I can't figure out what you want or what you don't want. I don't want to deal with your stupid goddamn texts either. Everything bad happens when you text me." I yelled at him.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I really am. I feel like I keep doing the wrong things when it's about you." He stumbled over a few of his words before digging into his pocket.

"This is yours. Uh, you don't have to keep it or anything. I just..."

I took out the moon necklace. Which wasn't even mine. It fit him. It was him. I was the sun, he was the moon. I was a hot headed girl and he knew how to calm me down.

"What?" I asked.

"I just..." He moved closer to me. "I just don't want to lose you."

Conrad's hand was touching my arm, and we were inches apart again.

"I've given you chances. I just don't know what to do anymore, Connie." I said.

He nodded.

I didn't have much to say anymore. I left him on the dock. I didn't want to deal with him.

I was the sun, and Conrad was the moon. We were two very different people.

[coeluvr]

I replayed your game yesterday because of the short stories and I can't take this question out of my head, in chapter 2 if MC decides to stay with Helios in the festival what did Vincent think of that? since he was the only one who knew that the random kid who joined them was MC in disguise

God, this is from September of last year so yeah it took me a while lol. Anon, if you're still here thank you for still being here LOL.

I don't think he was overly upset or anything like that because I think at that point Vincent doesn't really see MC as the enemy anymore. 🤔 At that point in time, Vincent is already quite similar to the Vincent in chapter 3 and forward rather than the kid MC met when they first arrived.

I'd say he most likely kept an eye on Helios just to make sure nothing happened, it was probably odd to him that MC approached Helios when before that scene they're quite distant with each other and almost never interact... which probably makes him think MC likely has an ulterior motive which makes him more wary... 😓 weird cycle with this guy.

But yeah short story: he thought it was odd.

[hbyrde36]

No Vacancy

Chapter 7: Extended Stay

WC: 4991 | R: Explicit | CH: 7/12 | AO3 | Now Complete!

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch4 Ch 5 Ch 6

*EDDIE*

For a long time after Steve fell asleep in his arms Eddie lay awake, gazing down at the other man’s face, not quite able to believe what had just happened. 

It felt like a dream, though he knew with absolute certainty that it wasn’t. Even his own admittedly wild imagination couldn’t possibly have come up with such tantalizing images on its own. He had been in awe, transfixed from the moment Steve told him to take his clothes off and traced the pattern of his tattoos, first with eyes and then the soft press of fingertips, with a reverence usually reserved for works of art.

Eddie had slept with his fair share of partners, knew what it was like to be wanted—desired, but no one before now had made him feel like that—like something precious and beautiful.  

It was all so overwhelming. He’d been completely unprepared for how life changing it would be to actually feel Steve writhing under him, to hear the debauched sounds that fell from his lips, to sink inside the deepest part of his baby for the first very time.

Not his baby though, not yet. 

That was part of why he couldn't sleep. Not only because he couldn’t stop replaying the night’s events in his mind, like the way Steve so desperately tried to fuck himself harder and faster on Eddie’s fingers, though that was definitely a contributing factor, but because he knew that come morning he would have to talk—and say all the right things.

He could not fuck this up.

Because Eddie was ruined now. He would never be the same after this, and all it had taken was one night.  

When it felt like sleep might finally come for him Eddie settled his head down, closed his eyes, and thought again how it would be far too easy to fall in love with Steve Harrington. But as the exhaustion of the day finally pulled him under, he couldn't shake the sinking feeling that he already had. 

Eddie woke in the same position he’d fallen asleep in, flat on his back, arms wrapped around Steve who was resting on his chest. There was a stiffness in the body he held, a signal warning him that Steve was already awake, confirmed when he looked down and found a pair of soft hazel eyes staring back at him nervously from under a thick curtain of lashes. 

“Hi,” Eddie said softly. His voice thick with sleep and all the other things that were rising back up to the surface now that he was fully conscious. 

“Hi,” Steve repeated, carefully neutral.

The air between them was already tense and strained. Eddie hated it, recognizing it was all his fault and praying he’d be able to fix it. He smoothed the hair back from Steve's face and kissed his forehead, trying and failing to think of where to begin. Somehow It was all a bit scarier in the light of day.

“Steve, I’m— “ was as far as he got before the words got stuck on his tongue. Eddie cleared his throat and tried again. 

“I-I’m gonna take a quick shower.” 

Which was definitely not at all what he’d intended to say, but he needed a minute. 

Just a minute. Just to gather his thoughts and shit, that was all. He slid gently out from under Steve, squeezing his arm in a way that he hoped was comforting before fleeing to the privacy of their shared bathroom. 

He actually did feel a little gross to be fair, having run around all day yesterday in clothes from the night before, and then working up a sweat the way he did…

Fuck.

Eddie washed himself quickly, standing under the hot spray for a long time after, feeling lost for words. For someone who hardly ever shut the fuck up, he wasn’t kidding when he told Steve he didn’t know how to talk. He could bullshit with the best of them all day, but conversations about feelings weren’t exactly something he had a lot of experience with growing up—or since.

The creak of the bathroom door opening pulled him from his thoughts. He knew he’d been in there too long. Steve probably thought he was hiding, or stalling, and Eddie waited for the other man to say something—to ask if he was okay or to yell and scream—but it never came. Instead Steve quietly peeled back the curtain just enough to step into the shower and join him. 

Neither spoke as Steve crowded up behind and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s waist.

Like the night before they let their bodies do all the talking. Hot lips to wet skin, Steve dropped a series of open mouthed kisses from Eddie’s shoulder to his neck, pressing into him from behind, making Eddie shiver and lean back into the touch as Steve’s cock began to fill out against his ass. 

Eddie’s heart pounded as his fantasy came to life, Steve’s broad hand sliding down to grip his cock, stroking in time his own heavy breaths. The filthy wet sound of it along with Eddie’s own moans echoed loudly in the small space. 

Somehow it was even hotter than he’d imagined, and It would've been easy to come like this, but suddenly he was desperate to see Steve’s face, to taste his mouth again, and he turned drawing Steve into a deep lingering kiss. 

Steve melted into it at first, grabbing onto Eddie’s shoulders and biting at his bottom lip, before his mouth slowly began to travel lower, kissing a trail down his body, licking the water from his skin as he sank down to the floor—and the sight of Steve there on his knees in the shower with Eddie’s cock down his throat was far better than any daydream. 

He wouldn’t last, Steve’s mouth felt far too good for that, but Eddie didn’t mind. He was too eager to return the favor to wait that long anyway.

It was… better—ish between them after the shower, a little easier to breathe. 

Nothing like a little more sex to break the ice, Eddie thought hysterically.

Even so, the pressure was rising for him to explain himself and he had no idea what the hell he was doing. Still dripping from the shower and wrapped only in their towels, Steve sat down on the edge of his bed, while Eddie paced the floor around him. 

It all had to start with an apology, that much was obvious, but every time he looked at Steve and tried to form the words Eddie was gripped this all consuming urge to just rip the towel from his body and see how long he could hold his breath as he choked himself on— 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and took a few deep steadying breaths. 

“Sorry, this was a mistake. Can you maybe-”

A small wounded noise came from Steve’s side of the room, and Eddie immediately cursed himself and his poor choice of words. 

“Shit–fuck. No, sweetheart. I’m sorry! Oh my god I’m so bad at this,” Eddie rambled, holding his hands up in front of him. “I mean, I can’t think straight with you sitting there in only a towel. Can we just–” 

He trailed off with a sigh, finally cracking an eye open to find Steve looking both relieved and a little amused.

“You want me to put some clothes on?” Steve asked, fighting off a smirk

“Please.”

When they were both dressed and Eddie could think with his actual brain, he sat down next to Steve, held one of his hands, and hoped for the best.

“I’m sorry for the way that I acted—have been acting. It wasn’t fair to you. Not when I took off, or when I walked away from you down by the beach, and definitely not when I brought other guys home to try and distract myself from the fact that you were consuming my every fucking thought. You deserved better.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, letting Eddie's words sink in as he chewed on his thumbnail. 

“Why did you do all that, and what—what changed?”

“Apart from thinking you were straight?”

Steve nodded. 

Eddie blew out a long breath, looking down at their tangled fingers. “Fear, mostly. I don’t do this, Steve. I don’t date—if that’s even what you’re looking for out of all this.” 

Steve nodded again, squeezing Eddie’s hand encouragingly. 

“I don't trust anyone. I don’t… let people in, Wayne and Chrissy being the exceptions I guess, and I've never wanted to change that before. But now—I think—with you, I…” Eddie paused, shaking his head.

Don’t be wishy-washy about it, Munson. 

“No, I know that I want to try. I was so wrong about you before. If anyone is an asshole here, it’s me. I’ve liked getting to know the real you, and I want to keep doing that and maybe show you more of me too. That’s why I came back, to give it a chance. To see if you would give me a chance even though I don’t deserve it, and I have no idea what I’m doing, and I’m sure I’ll fuck it all up somehow, but I-”

Steve cut him off with a kiss, murmuring a single word against his lips. 

“Yes.”

Eddie pulled back, looking from one of Steve’s eyes to the other. “Yes?”

“Yes, I'm saying yes to giving you a chance.”

“Well thank fuck for that,” Eddie exhaled, his mouth spreading into a wide grin before leaning back in for another kiss.

“Are you sure you have to work tonight?” Steve asked, watching from the bed as Eddie stood in front of the dresser, tying his hair up into a haphazard bun and slipping his rings on. 

It was one of the many things they hadn’t addressed yet, the fact that they were still on opposite schedules and how that would play into things now that they were together. Eddie certainly wasn’t going to bring it up, he was following Steve’s lead on everything since he had experience with relationships. 

Boyfriends.

It seemed like such a childish word to describe this intense thing blooming between them, but maybe that was just because Eddie’d never had one before. 

He glanced back at Steve through the mirror and admired his own handiwork, spotting the bruises that had taken form on either side of the other man’s throat. They were probably a little too old to walk around sporting visible hickeys like that, but something about lounging around making out all afternoon had made them both feel a bit like teenagers again—and judging by the sounds Steve had been making as Eddie sucked the delicate skin of his neck, he didn’t mind.

“Why, you gonna miss me or something?” Eddie teased, sauntering back over to the bed.

“Yeah,” Steve said, and it sounded like the truth. He said it like it cost him nothing to admit, and Eddie wondered if he could ever be brave like that. 

“As much as I might want to, I can’t call out again. I already bailed on a shift yesterday. Now that I'm staying I don't really want to lose this job.”

In the few moments between bouts of trying to devour each other that they did talk, Eddie had done his best to open up. Confessing what he suspected was the real reason why he moved around so much since leaving their hometown behind. Namely that anytime a place got too familiar or someone got too close, he would cut and run.

“Were you really going to leave?” Steve asked.

Eddie’s gaze dropped to the floor. He’d come damn close. “I felt like I had to. I was losing my mind, ready to drive eight hours straight to get to my Uncle’s place and lay low for a while.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.” Eddie agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to Steve's mouth. He was becoming obsessed with the taste of him, and only for the sake of getting to work on time did he pull back, keeping it from turning into more “Any plans tonight?”

“Oh!” Steve’s eyes lit up as he practically shouted. “I can’t believe I haven't told you! You know how Robin and Chrissy are not-so-secretly in love with each other?”

“Yes, obviously.”

“I think I finally convinced Robin to ask her out on a real date. I’m supposed to watch the front desk for a few hours while they go out to dinner tonight.”

Eddie grinned, his eyes going wide. “Holy shit!” 

It was about damn time.

He couldn’t believe it was finally happening, although, the happy news made him feel even worse about the way he’d been avoiding his best friend for much of his stay so far. He’d make it up to her somehow, and if anyone could understand what he’d been going through, it was her. If they were both about to embark on new relationships they would need each other now more than ever. 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Eddie said, narrowing his eyes playfully. “You wanted me to stick around so you don’t get bored down there by yourself.”

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged, “but I still meant what I said about missing you.”

“It's nice of you to cover for them.”

“I don’t mind. They deserve a little time off, date or no date.”

“You really are a sweetheart, you know that?”

“Shut up.” 

Steve rolled his eyes but his deep blush betrayed the way Eddie’s words affected him. It was adorable that after everything they’d done in the past twenty four hours a simple compliment could cause heat to rise in his cheeks. 

 “Actually, I need to get down there soon so she can show me what I have to do. Do you think…” Steve trailed off absently, picking at a loose thread on the comforter below him. “Nevermind.”

“No.” Eddie didn’t like that one bit, didn’t want Steve to be afraid to speak his mind. “Please, what were you going to say?”

“Can I tell them about us—Robin, and Chrissy?”

Eddie fought not to squirm, It felt like the first big test. A part of him wanted to keep things just between the two of them, at least for a while, until he trusted himself more not to mess up, but he also desperately wanted Chrissy to know and he was sure Steve would die if he couldn’t tell Robin.  

And given Eddie’s recent discoveries, he was pretty sure he knew why Robin had been so pissed all the time. Maybe now she’d stop giving him the evil eye. 

“Yeah. Of course you can tell them.”

*ROBIN*

Robin was trying to stay busy, puttering around the motel lobby straightening things up and definitely not freaking out about the night ahead, or worrying about how she was going to tell Steve that she hadn’t exactly gone through with their plan. 

Her and Chrissy were still going out to dinner and all, but Robin may have, possibly, on purpose, neglected to actually call it a date. 

She was also still fuming about Eddie and whatever he’d done to make her best friend look so sad and dejected last night. The whole thing was getting ridiculous honestly. If that little son of a bitch hadn’t run away because he was jealous that Steve had a date with someone else—she’d eat something gross. 

The fucking nerve he had to pull this shit after Steve had been so clearly pining after him, after he’d endured several of Eddie’s own hookups without complaint—and just when Steve was trying to get over him.

 She wasn’t sure what kind of game Eddie was playing here but she didn’t think she could let it go this time, no matter what Steve or Chrissy said. 

God—this had all been such a colossally bad idea. Lying to both of them, forcing them to room together. Robin felt terrible for her part in it, and the pain it'd caused her best friend. If only she’d just told Steve the truth when it all started going south, or better yet not gone through with this stupid scheme from the beginning, it would have saved him so much hurt feelings. 

The bell above the door dinged, interrupting Robin from her spiraling thoughts and she looked up to see Steve entering the lobby. 

He grinned when he saw her and it went all the way up to his eyes. It was a complete one-eighty from last night—he radiated happiness in a way she hadn’t seen in literal years. He was practically fucking glowing.

What could have possibly happened to change things so much in the few hours since she saw him last? 

Then she spotted it, a hickey—several hickies just barely peeking out from the neck of his favorite baby blue polo shirt.

Robin crossed the room in a rush, eyes narrowing as she yanked his collar down for a closer look. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

He yanked himself out of her grip, readjusting his shirt. “It’s exactly what you think it is.”

If possible his smile got even wider with the admission.

“Gross,” she groaned.

Steve scoffed. “Just cause you don’t like men.”

Robin rolled her eyes. She was pretty sure she already knew the answer, even if she had no idea how this new development had come to pass, but she had to ask anyway. 

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve replied, with the nerve to sound all wistful like a fisherman’s wife waiting for her husband to return from sea. 

“Do I even want to know?”

As much as she wanted to know how he and Eddie had gotten from point A to point B, she could happily live the rest of her life without the more sordid details—assuming there were sordid details. 

Steve took a deep breath as if preparing to launch into a long explanation, then appeared to decide better of it. “No, probably not.”

Right.

She hated to be the one to rain on his parade when he looked so bright, but it was unfortunately part of her job according to the best friend code. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Steve looked away, smile slipping for the first time. 

“I can’t be sure about anything, Robs, but I have to give this a shot.” He sighed, shaking his head before meeting her eyes again. “I mean, c’mon. You said it yourself, how long have I been into the guy?”

Robin snorted. She couldn’t help herself. “So we’re just freely admitting that now?”

Steve glared, dragging his feet over to one of the cushioned wicker benches that sat along the sides of the lobby and plopped down.

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Listen, I like Eddie—most of the time—and if you’re happy, then I'm happy for you. He’s fun to be around, and it’s sweet the way he’s always been there for Chrissy. I know deep down he’s a good guy–”

“Why do I feel like there’s a but coming?”

Robin sank into the seat next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I hate the way he’s treated you.”

“Not exactly a fan of it myself,” Steve grumbled, “but he–he owned up to it, and apologized.”

“I’m just worried. Clearly he’s got some… issues, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Steve leaned in, bumping their shoulders together. “I don’t really want to see me get hurt either, but I'm willing to take that risk. I think he might be worth it.”

Oh no. Steve had that twinkle in his eyes—she knew that tone. 

“Shit, you are in so deep already aren't you?”

If the way he would no longer meet her eye was any indication, she was dead on.

Steve cleared his throat loudly, ignoring the question. “Don’t you have a date to get to?”

Robin bared her teeth in a grimace. “About that—“

“You didn’t ask her?”

“No, I did! Sort of. We’re still going out, but only as friends.”

“Wait, did she say she didn’t want it to be a date? Or did you chicken out at the last minute and not call it a date.”

“Might as well call me Henrietta—I think you already know the answer to that question.”

“Robin, you have to tell her!”

Any chance of defending herself was lost as the door chimed again and Chrissy came walking through it, looking absolutely gorgeous in a bright yellow sundress, white strappy sandals, and her hair tied up in a high bouncy ponytail. 

And fuck was Robin was a sucker for a bouncy ponytail.

Chrissy always looked stunning, whether she was dressed up with a full face of makeup, or flushed and sweaty, fresh from the gym, but sometimes, like right now, her beauty stole all the air from Robin’s lungs.

She stood there gawking for a moment before Steve elbowed her, then quickly snapped her mouth shut and tried to remember how to be a functioning member of the human race. Everything was fine, she was cool, totally not about to spontaneously combust at all.

“Hey guys!” Chrissy greeted them both, but her piercing blue eyes were trained on Robin. “Are you ready to go or do we still need to give Steve the lay of the land?”

“We were… just getting to that. Do you want to take him to your office and show him the books and the phone?” 

Chrissy nodded, pulling Steve up by his wrist and pulling him along behind her around the back of the counter, and threw Robin a wink over her shoulder when he wasn’t looking.

This was another one of the many things Robin had been stressing about for tonight. Even if it were to somehow miraculously work out between Steve and Eddie, she really didn’t want him to find out she’d set him up. It was Chrissy’s idea to fill the books with fake names to help cover for the fact that the motel was barely half full tonight. She didn’t know how closely Steve might look at things, and they could get away with having a few rooms open, most guests wouldn’t have been staying the whole summer like the boys were anyway, but too many obvious vacancies and the whole ruse would fall apart.

Chrissy assured her it would be fine, seemingly overjoyed at the chance to get out for a night. Steve wouldn’t even need to be in there that long, they only kept the office open till about nine or ten at the latest, anyway, leaving a sign on the door after closing with their own room’s phone number in case of emergencies. 

After only a few minutes Chrissy and Steve reappeared—and the asshole proceeded to walk them to the door like an overprotective father. Robin glared, daring him to say something embarrassing. He didn’t, thankfully, but he did catch her eye through the window as she followed Chrissy down the street and mouthed the words, “Be brave.” 

It was sweet. 

She smiled and flipped him off.

“So, where are we headed, Tide’s?” Chrissy linked their arms together as they headed towards the middle of town.

Robin's skin broke out in goosebumps at the touch. “That was the plan. Not sure if it’s a good idea anymore, considering.”

Chrissy squealed, feet dancing along the pavement excitedly. “I know, isn’t it great! Steve told me when I was showing him how to use the phone. I can’t believe we pulled it off.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Robin agreed halfheartedly. 

What else could she say?

“He said Eddie was working tonight too! Can we go there, Robin? Please? I’m dying to see his face.” 

Chrissy made a big show out of batting her eyes, a little trick she’d picked up from Eddie that seemed destined to send Robin into cardiac arrest—as if Robin wasn’t already powerless to deny her anything. 

It was just as well. At least now she could get her shovel talk out of the way nice and early. 

“Sure, whatever you want.”

As soon as they walked in the door Robin eyes landed on Eddie, standing behind the bar. He grinned when he spotted Chrissy, giving her a little wave, but looked quickly away when he saw Robin, busying himself with wiping down the already spotless surface in front of him. 

Without thinking she began to move in his direction, chomping at the bit to say her piece, but was stopped by a gentle grip at her elbow and Chrissy’s soft voice in her ear. 

“I know you probably want to march over there and threaten him with bodily harm if he hurts Steve again in any way, but do you think you could hold off for a little while so we can enjoy our night out together?”

Robin's stomach flipped and suddenly her legs felt like jello. 

“Yeah—um, yes. That’s… of course, sorry.”

Smooth.

The night was going great. 

They were two drinks in when Robin finally started to relax. She wasn’t thinking about Steve, or the motel, or anything besides enjoying the company of the girl sitting across from her. They hadn’t had fun like this in months. She really had to hand it to Steve, he was absolutely right. As much time as they spent together at work and at home, it was different like this, being out together with the sole purpose of enjoying themselves, people watching at the bar like they used to do all the time back in college. 

With a healthy buzz going they ordered some food and Robin excused herself to the bathroom, touching up her lipstick and maybe giving herself an embarrassing pep talk in the mirror before stepping out. She paused on her way back to their table to duck behind a half-wall, realizing that Eddie had taken up a seat next to Chrissy in her absence.

They were sitting close, heads bent together, talking quietly as Chrissy held his hand. Robin nearly looked away, feeling like she was intruding on a very private moment—even if they were in the middle of a busy bar on a Saturday night. It’s just… she’d never seen Eddie like that before, his face devoid of its usual cocky overconfident mask. He looked so… vulnerable, scared even. 

It was almost enough to make her feel bad about all the ways in which she’d imagined maiming him. 

Robin continued to watch as Chrissy soothed him with words, and hugs, and a kiss on the cheek, and saw the moment Eddie’s shoulders relaxed. Soon they were laughing and giddy and Eddie was clearly gushing about something—Steve she hoped—so it seemed like it was safe to resume her walk back to the table.

Eddie noticed her first before Chrissy did, and quickly rose from his chair, eyes widening a smidge like she made him nervous. 

As he should be.

But, Robin was determined to be good and not ruin the evening, so she smiled and nodded and he did the same before retreating back behind the safety of the bar. 

“What was that all about?” Robin asked casually, as though she hadn’t been creeping on them for the last five minutes, and wondered if Chrissy had gotten more details out of Eddie about the boys’—coming together, so to speak.

Chrissy stared down at the cocktail in her hand, something unreadable crossing her face as she stirred the ice around. 

“Oh, y’know,” She said eventually, huffing a laugh before proceeding to upend her glass abruptly and down the entire drink in one go.

Which was hotter than it had any right to be, honestly, but Robin felt compelled to ask, “Is everything alright?” 

After a long beat of silence in which a hundred different worst case scenarios ran through Robin's head, Chrissy finally looked up again, studying her face with pursed lips. 

“I'm going to ask you something and I need you to be completely honest with me.”

That didn’t sound good.

“...Okay?” 

“Was this supposed to be a date?”

Oh god. 

Robin’s heart pounded loudly in her ears completely drowning out the sound of the crowd around them. She blinked, fighting hard just to keep breathing.

“W-w-what makes you ask that?”

Chrissy shrugged.

Bullshit. 

Eddie had to have said something to her, it was the only explanation. Steve must have told him about the plan.

Robin swallowed hard. There was no use trying to deny it. The cat was out of the bag now and Chrissy was still sitting there, so…

“And, if it was?” Robin asked, softly.

Chrissy slid out of her chair and for a second Robin thought it was all over, that she’d ruined everything, but then Chrissy was coming around the table, sitting down next to her and taking her hand under the table, lacing their fingers together.

“Then I would say, that I've had a crush on you since we moved into our first dorm together and ask why the hell you haven't kissed me yet.”

The rush of relief that came over Robin was second only to the joy she felt as she let Chrissy’s words sink in, and her mouth spread into a smile so wide it made her face hurt. “Well, there's still time. It’s not the end of the date yet right?” 

Ten minutes later, with takeout bags in hand after flagging the server down to ask for their order to go, they were headed for the door, ready to continue their date in a more private setting when Eddie caught Robin’s eye, tossing her a wink and a smirk from across the room.  

She rolled her eyes, smiling fondly despite herself. She might even thank him for this someday. One thing she knew for sure—that was the last time she was thinking about either of those damn boys for the rest of the night. 

She had something much more pleasurable in mind to focus on instead. 

Chapter 8

Thanks forever to @penny00dreadful for being the best friend, cheerleader, and beta in the whole fucking world 💜

Taglist: @manda-panda-monium @hellion-child @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @epiclazershark @estrellami-1 @lokfae @raisedbylibrarians @impala314 @meganwinchester @kacatshi @warlordess @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @garden-of-gay @meela86 @gregre369 @finntheehumaneater

[cozmicwonder]

He Loves me, She Loves me not

Chapter 3

As you walk down the hallway you stare at the paused video. A video that could…ruin..her reputation…You ponder on the thought and sigh. I’ll just sleep on it you thought. “That should work” you you mumbled on your way to your dorm. The thought of someone like her cheating on a boy who does every and anything for her. You almost feel bad for him. The incident replayed in your head like a broken record.

You couldn’t get your mind off it even while you lie flat against your bed. It was approximately 12:42 am. You couldn’t sleep so your mind wandered. Your thoughts drifted to you revealing Rika’s secret but no one would believe little old you, especially with no one to back you up. Plus you have no popularity. So you drifted to other ideas. Blackmail? No, if I got caught I could go to jail. You thought. Get her expelled? “Too hard to execute” you spoke quietly. You groaned, you had no more ideas.

That was until a thought popped into your head. What if you went to Maki’s sister, Mai. Mai despises Rika. Rumor has it that they both were in a competition for popularity the last year of high school and Rika made sure every ounce of her dignity was gone. We’re talking, spreading rumors she was selling nudes for money because her family disowned her. Stealing most of her friends by brainwashing them and feeding them lies.

She even went as far as to ruin her boyfriend's reputation and bullied him to the point he left the school and just disappeared from Mai’s life. Ever since her reign ended she’s despised Rika with everything she was made of. It was perfect you could get her secret out and Mai even though you didn’t like her either could get her old life back.

You would ask Maki for her number tomorrow but first, you had to get at least four hours of sleep…You got no sleep that night, you looked like the Walking Dead. Too much overthinking prevented a peace slumber for you and your drained mind. Your brain came up with millions of different possibilities of what could go wrong or right, how it could go down, who would interject, and if anyone would believe you.

You sigh heavily and rub your eyes until you’re satisfied with the feeling. Your posture is honorably horrible, looks as if you would place number one for worst hunch back. Last night you made the executive decision to text maki for Mai’s phone number and she finally texted back at six in the morning. After terrorizing you with questions you finally got it. She was unsure if it was still her number because she rarely talks to her outside of family matters.

You added Mai’s number to your contacts and sent her a text. The text read. “Hey Mai im one of Maki’s friends and I have something on Rika that im sure you’d love to get back at her please meet me at dorm number 62 in the east wing if you want to talk”. You thought that sounded pretty mysterious. You didn’t have any classes today so you decided to wait in your dorm all day because you realized you didn’t give her time. When you realized you went to check the message to confirm, it said it was read.

You could’ve jumped with glee and pride but you held yourself together and waited. And waited and waited until you heard a knock at your door. You jumped up and rushed to the door. You took a deep breath in and out before cautiously opening the door and low and behold it was Mai. “Hi,” you spoke quietly looking up at Mai. She was about two inches taller than you. “Hey,” she said rather blankly. You moved back and opened the door wider for her to enter “Welcome” you said as she entered your dorm. “So let’s cut straight to the chase. What’s this you have on Rika” Mai turned to you staring at you intimidatingly. You swallowed the lump in your throat why were you so nervous now?

You stared directly into her eyes. “So yesterday I caught Rika..” the words wouldn’t come out. “Come on spit it out already I don’t have all day,” Mai said getting slightly irritated. “ICAUGHTRIKACHEATINGONHERBOYFRIENDWITHYUJI’STWINBROTHER” you stammered out in one long breath. You stared at Mai’s shocked face before she erupted in a fit of laughter. She was laughing so hard she hunched over. Your face showed that of confusion.

Mai’s laughter continued for a few more seconds before standing up straight and fixing herself. “Wow,’ She said as she sighed. “She spent countless months ruing my reputation by spreading lies I was a whore when she’s the real whore.” she chuckled one more. She looked back at you and noticed your confused face. “Listen here, I’ll help you get little Miss Perfect’s secret as long as you help me get my rep back. Deal?”. She stretched out a hand for you to grab. “Deal,” you said shaking her hand. It was like you just made a deal with the devil.

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

A/n- Hey, Hey. Sorry, it took me sooooooooo long to post Chapter 3. I was busy with school making sure my grades were good and I passed my exams and I did just that! I hope you enjoyed this chapter I'll post another by the end of this month. Tah Tah!

[amidst-wonderland]

final fantasy 15 thoughts (replay)

just as a psa, spoilers of course but also this is not in chronological order, not by a long shot as these are thoughts / feelings i’ve been holding onto for almost ten years. (also, i’ll add to this once i’ve finished dawn of the future.)

this is easily the most tense, creepy and downright freighting final fantasy game. say what you will about chapter thirteen but they really know how to build momentum in such an eery way in gralea (you can literally find the clothes of npc’s you’ve encountered like dino’s, in other words they’ve been taken and turned into daemons by the niffs). also, arguably the most bittersweet ending. as, pretty much everyone dies. everyone in kingsglaive, apart from libertus dies.

i used to think ray chase went a bit over the top in the early game in-terms of acting but upon revisit, he absolutely smashes it. that section as the boys look over insomnia is heart-wrenching. final fantasy to me has always been a bit wishy-washy in-terms of voice acting. characters were passable but the voice direction is a little messy at best and sometimes downright flat (which some of the terrible sound mixing doesn’t help) but when it comes to modern final fantasy games? they’re incredible and i couldn’t go back. ray, cody and ben were perfect in their roles (i low-key think cody got snubbed at TGA’s this year but maybe it’s just one actor per game).

on this scene though, i remember there being discourse about iris phoning noctis first, over gladio but it makes total sense to me. gladiolus’ role as the shield is to take a bullet for the king, if noctis is dead according to the press then how do you think that happened? we quite literally see it played out with their fathers.

fifteen’s soundtrack will always be my favourite overall, seven is up there too with ‘seven seconds till the end’, ‘one last date’, ‘tifa’s theme’ and ‘on our way’ but taking the entire soundtrack into account i’d have to say fifteen is just perfect, it’s one of the few things at launch that simply couldn’t be critiqued. also, considering it’s yoko shimomura ‘scala ad caelum’ from kh3 sounds like it could be ripped right from endgame ffxv. its sounds like a more darker version of ‘somnus ultima’. like ‘true love’ is basically luna’s theme + ‘somnus’ as one. ‘home sweet home’, ‘lightless journey’ and ‘dewdrops at dawn’ are perfect in every way (can you tell i like a good piano and violin number? also, if you like ffxv, go listen to professor layton’s, ‘london streets 3’)

speaking of kh3, i have zero interest in anything but the versus thirteen stuff and whilst i don’t know if i’ll play it. i am seated for kh4 to see where nomura’s magnum opus goes, if anything i just want more of yoko’s ‘not, not ffxv’ music.

i truly wish there was more of the kings as they are without a doubt my favourite aspect in the lore with them obviously being this game’s version of ‘knights of the round’ and they way they wove this into an arthurian-inspired story. like, they basically beat you over the head that the ‘sword of the father’ is excalibur. yeah, we don’t have the physical summon but that’s not to say we can’t summon them, which we technically do as noctis is summoning their weapons and the way they’re depicted impaling noct and killing ardyn is basically how their actual summon is.

i’ve been writing this whilst waiting for my game to fully upload, so i only had a the option to play a new game with no royal additions yesterday and now that’s it’s downloaded, my almost two-hundered hour save file is gone, so looks like i really will be replaying this because i don’t have playstation plus. like cheers sony telling me i’ve got 187 hours in a game to only show me three saves that were created less than a day ago.

apparently there were cut lines of the npc’s mentioning what happened with the glaive. which is so disappointing because the kingsglaive themselves are such a big deal but i always felt this weird disconnect between the film and the game outside of regis and luna, like there’s not even a moment of iris and gladio talking about how their father was killed, like do they even learn how regis died?! if i’m right in thinking, the only reference to kingsglaive is when ignis mentions nyx putting on the ring, but we don’t ever learn of them hearing about it. pretty sure noctis would have some choice words, he doesn’t even mention ravus doing the same. also, luna was supposed to join the party with a bahamut summon?! which is kinda weird, because to me bahamut is as much the bad guy in the story as ardyn, somnus and nifflheim. if we wanna compare, it’s basically sephiroth, jenova and hojo.

i don’t hate kingsglaive i was just disappointed. the main thing the game got right was my main grievance with kingsglaive. these are comrades, friends brought together to fight for a city not technically their own and we never get to see how their relationships fall apart. we never see luche grappling with that fact he murdered crowe, especially when he comes across pretty ambivalent to the treaty, a close friend of hers and comes back to save nyx! you don’t properly understand why crowe was specifically chosen unless you get ‘big-brain’ about it. they also could’ve done much better with the foreshadowing and as much as i like nyx and his hero-complex is basically the only arc that works, i don’t think he should’ve won. luna has the ring, insomnia was destined to fall (as much as the kings pretend it won’t) and instead of ravus, considering what ardyn is putting them through emotionally in chapter thirteen, glauca should’ve been fought by the party or better yet, have glauca be fought just before facing ardyn in the throne room.

also, i saw a theory nyx was turned into the daemon that you eventually fight to get his weapons but his body literally turns to dust so…

again, with the glaive (sorry, i will get to the game itself!) the lack of foreshadowing and contradiction with luche bothers me so much, he wrote the damn treason letter. the glaive don’t need to know his intensions but the audience should! we don’t get to see their relationships outside of nyx. the only way i can justify luche coming back to save nyx, other than the recapture of luna is maybe a part of him still wanted to get his friend on board with the cause, but the way he goes about shooting him completely lacks any familiarity. drautos had crowe killed because he thought she was the one person that would turn nyx against regis. it worked on libertus and luche was enough of a suck-up to do it himself.

the cut content thing it’s just so ‘ugh’ like the main things i wanted was an explorable insomnia (as noctis) and gralea (cause it was inspired by the uk, which is certainly loaded) and noctis’ jpn va confirmed that the boys were present during insomnia’s fall and that would’ve been so fucking cool (and the perfect opportunity to give us one actual noctis and luna scene, like a fleeting moment of them promising to reunite that wasn’t as children). knowing that, i don’t even think that’s what kingsglaive was intentionally about because nyx came into the picture when they couldn’t use noctis, so chances are the film was supposed to be about the boys sneaking out of the invasion, which makes a hell of a lot more sense as the set-up of a game which ‘opens’ on them finally out of the capital. also, as great at the scene is, regis knows exactly who the “imperial chancellor” is.

i will never forgive square for having ignis be stuck with that jedward quiff, like give me yummy hair-down ignis!

cor’s apologising for not being there to save regis, just reminded me that he’s weirdly absent from the film and of all characters in the game, he should’ve had relevance

i beat one of the niff bases severely under levelled. i was a level thirty-two, the recommended is fourty-seven with two level fifty-two bosses, after two previous waves. got my ass handed to me the first time but, think think smarter not harder and the second time wiped the floor with them because thank go for the turret as a i really wanted to boost my level early.

wally west you cannot escape my ears, not even as a niff.

call me a purist, but i don’t think you should be able to access verse two in chapter thirteen until you’ve beaten the game. you miss out on an insanely key moment playing as gladio, like the whole damn reason for this journey, luna, nyx and regis’ death’s and insomnia’s fall were collateral for noctis to put on the ring and i know people complained there was no reason, but there was. players and noctis were too comfortable with the party and their weapon load-out. ardyn forces noctis and the players to put on that ring and prove himself that he and he alone is the true king. also, noctis taking on his own legacy but also his father’s which reads to me that even throughout all of this, regis will always be there when his son needs him most. you get none of that as gladio.

comrades “ending” actively contradicts the ending of the game, like noct leaves the rock alone but in comrades a group of glaives go to retrieve him.

work with me here but i think crowe should’ve been an insomnia native. like, to say, look what the king would do to his own people.

i remember the qte being a lot shorter my first time, so i’m assuming you get as many of the royal arms as you have collected pre-ardyn. which i think i got ten? including the five you get during the story. (i’m still bitter about my save disappearance because i worked damn hard to collect all the royal arms, cause fuck costlemark tower).

i know it’s the in-game lighting but noctis’ final cgi scene shouldn’t be as bright as it is before he brings back the light.

originally (baring in mind, i played base-base ffxv, like no updates whatsoever) considered ardyn being related to noct to be really lazy purely because they didn’t properly explain it until after you get sucked into the crystal and even then i wasn’t fully convinced until we got the gentiana update and episode ardyn.

i need to know the track that plays when noctis gets oracle’s trident, like after the cosmology one.

i’ve mentioned this before but if you know seven and get ‘big brained’ about fifteen’s plot then you can potentially have the caelum’s legacy spoiled by the time gang head to cape caem. you get the blade of the mystic whilst fighting the archaean and again, like i said, if you haven’t properly looked at that thing and know seven then ya probably should. to the game’s credit, you don’t get a proper look at the sword until episode ardyn and by that point you vaguely know what somnus did, or you’re about to find out.

i find it hilarious that the guy who voices wyv, also voices bahamut.

the way the game treats iris is rancid, she is fifteen-years-old square! i don’t care if she’s got a crush on noct, but don’t force me as him to play along it’s gross. also, luna being four years older that noctis is kinda janky too, especially when so much of their romance is shown as children. he’s like nine and she’s thirteen if i’m right in thinking.

not noct having more chemistry with sarah.

visually, endgame cgi noctis and kingsglaive luna? damn that is one hot couple. they look too anime-fied in their final scene but i would’ve killed to see her kingsglaive rendition and older!noctis in its cgi glory.

aranea alludes to the fact that the emperor couldn’t go near the crystal and that ardyn was the only one who could (and that’s why ardyn insisted on being brought to insomnia because it wouldn’t have shifted without him) when you’re in tenebrae which should’ve set off alarms bells.

i don’t personally think luna was fated to die, at least not as soon as she did and had there been no imperial involvement her and noct’s journey likely wouldn’t have begun as early as it did (both she and noctis were clearly unprepared, noct more-so). to me, ardyn’s fate and personal vendetta merged in the killing of luna. to toy with noctis, push him over the edge but also taking his anger with aera (and somnus) out on luna and above all ending the remaining liability in the one cause he has control over. noct is the one true king who can end him, but that still means the caelum line could live on, even without noct. so what do? ensure the caelum line dies with luna. let’s face it, had ardyn not stepped in luna would’ve been free to join the gang and who’s to say she doesn’t end up with a caelum sprog? taking out the caelum line is ardyn’s one solstice.

i was gonna do the regalia side missions but then i remembered the glitched out sewer that gave me motion sickness.

noctis and luna are like really distant relatives, right?

on the previous comment of seven, like noctis and luna is just a shittier re-telling of cloud and aerith, even down to specifics.

noctis dies a fucking virgin, oh my god take this game off me.

the english localisation changing the “i love you” to the ‘#nohomo’ version still pisses me off. yes square, this man loves these men who are basically his brothers.

ardyn’s hatred of noctis probably isn’t helped by the fact he’s the spitting image of somnus and bahamut (which is obviously intentional because bahamut has a severe case of main character syndrome).

not being able to preview regalia colours before purchase is annoying as fuck.

the arena can suck my big, fat, hairy baws.

there’s a lot of great lines in this game but the delivery of prompto’s “son of a bitch!” will never not amuse me. though, in strong runners up are “off my chair jester, the king sits there.” or ardyn’s “is he dead?”

[irrevocableloves]

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter five: blood type

previous chapter ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ chapter six

summary: edward gives in, no matter the efforts it took to keep himself away from her.

warnings: swearing, fluff, blood, gore

words: 4.9k (unedited)

Throughout the entire night, Edward’s words replayed in my mind. It's better if we're not friends. What did that even mean? That he wanted to? That he felt this pull just as I did, but was too afraid to embrace it? Or was it just me? My stomach twisted. He must’ve noticed how engrossed I was by him and didn’t want to lead me on. Perhaps he was a mind reader. Oh god. The pathetic thoughts I’ve had towards him… I was considering it.

Normally, it was so easy for me to read people. For all my life, I was able to take in someone's thoughts from just their expressions whether it was genuine or forced. I knew someone was so annoyingly obsessed with me or completely hated my guts. Lauren wasn’t even a good example, anyone could see right through her act even though she tried to hide it with fake smiles and interactions. She didn’t like me and even the entire school could catch onto that. My dad always wondered if I could hear his thoughts because of how in tune I was with his emotions. He was closed off, which was part of the reason him and my mother ended things, but for me? I could always see right through him and know exactly what to say to him. But, Edward on the other hand? He drove me absolutely insane.

My thoughts were thankfully interrupted by a buzz on my cell.

jess &lt;3: Mike said YES!!!!

And then an immediate call afterwards.

Jess had me on the phone for almost an hour talking about Mike, the dance, Angela and Ben, and then of course, the so-called ‘tension’ she felt with Edward and I. But, I quickly changed the subject to shopping for dresses which kept her occupied for another hour.

Finally, she hung up and I went onto doing homework and answering emails from my mom before eventually passing out.

Turning into the school lot, I made sure to park even farther than usual from his Volvo for my own sanity. Getting out of my car, I realized I’d left my keys and yanked it out a bit too swiftly, the keys flying into a puddle just outside my car. As I bent down to get it, a white hand swooped in and grabbed it, causing my jerk upright. I looked up, seeing Edward Cullen casually leaning on my car, my keys just dangling in his hands for me to take.

“How the hell do you do that?” I ask with an exasperated huff.

“Do what?” He held out my keys for me and I snatched them. He gave a light-hearted chuckle.

“Appear out of thin air.” I spat out.

“Y/N, it’s not my fault that you’re exceptionally unobservant.” 

I didn’t want to have this conversation again. I was tired of it. Instead, I walked past him. This time not even bothering to serve him a glance towards his way, no matter how much I wanted to.

To my surprise, he jogged towards me.

“So, why the traffic jam yesterday?” I huffed. “Thought you were supposed to be pretending I don’t exist, not deliberately annoying me.”

He gave a light chuckle. “That was for Tyler’s sake, not mine. Seems like he wanted a chance with you.”

That’s when I finally faced him, finding the urge not to hit his perfect face or perfect anything for that matter. “You’re fucking kidding.” He only seemed amused by my response.

“And I’m not pretending you don’t exist.”

“Oh, really? So you’re trying to annoy me to death? What? Since Tyler’s van didn’t do the job?” This anger was new to me. Usually, things didn’t bother me this much. But, Edward was different.

I expected anger from him as usual, but he only looked down at his feet, before muttering, “Y/N, that’s not–”

“I don’t care. Can you just leave me alone? Please? I just can’t keep up. One minute you're angry and the other you're consoling me. Your mood swings are giving me whiplash.” I interrupted him, not daring to look him back in the eye.

Silence followed, which was my que to head off to English.

I hadn’t realized class started by the time I walked in, Mr. Mason gave a huff with a “Thank you for joining us, Miss Y/L/N.” I headed to my seat in a rush. 

The entire class, I spent the majority of the time zoning out, thinking about what Edward had said. It wasn’t until class ended that I realized the seat next to me wasn’t occupied by the usual Mike, who would whisper my ear off for a straight hour. The silence was quite nice, but it worried me a bit. Once we all walked out of class, Mike’s spirits seemed to have lifted somehow as Eric mentioned the beach trip. Even with your sixteen years living here, it amazed you how Jess and the boys enjoyed surfing in this weather. No matter how much you favored Forks, California sure had Forks beaten with beaches. Most of the beach trips at Forks consisted of Angela and I waddled up in blankets at the back of Tyler’s van and watching movies off of one of my old DVD players.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Now, it was lunch. With my shaking nerves, I attempted to keep all my focus on Jessica’s babbling instead of searching for those golden eyes. I could hardly keep up with her pace as she rambled on about the dance plans, even convincing Angela to ask out Ben. I couldn’t help but wander my eyes towards his table. He wasn’t there. His four siblings sat in their usual spots, the only one with eyes on me was the one with a pixie-cut, Alice, with a slight smile curving on her lips.

“Edward is staring at you again,” Jessica said. I broke eye contact with Alice, bringing my attention towards Jessica. “I wonder why he’s sitting alone today.”

I followed her gaze from across the classroom. There he was. Edward. His crooked smile widening once he’d caught my attention. Suddenly, I’d lost my appetite. He waved his fingers towards me, motioning for me to join him, then a wink. Fuck.

“Does he mean you?” Jessica’s voice staggered. I’d forgotten we weren’t the only people in the room for a moment. “Told you he was into you.” she whispered, fighting through her giggles. I swore he heard that asI saw him fight a chuckle.

I shoved Jessica with my shoulder, hesitantly walking towards Edward with Jessica’s giggles in my rear view. When I reached the table, I didn’t sit, instead I stood behind the chair waiting for him to speak.

“Why don’t you sit with me today?” he asked, smiling. I eyed the chair, pulling it opening and sitting on the edge of it. His smile felt unreal, as if it was another ploy to reel me in again and push me away just as hard.

“Thought you didn’t wanna be friends?” I questioned.

“I said it would be better if we weren’t friends, not that I didn’t want to be.”

“What does that even mean?” I couldn’t read him. Why put so much effort into someone he hardly even knew? Why was I doing that?

“It means if you were smart, you’d stay away from me.” I tried.

“Haven’t I tried that already? You’re the one who wanted me here.”

“Well, I’ve decided to hell with it. As long as I’m going, I might as well get to know you better.”

“Hell? Now you’ve just expanded my theories.” I had none. No logical ones at least. I couldn’t even think them, let alone say them out loud, it was too bizarre.

“Oh, really? Won’t you tell me then?” he asked, tilting his head to the side with a tempting smile.

“Nope.” I shook my head, giving him a malicious smile.

“That’s really frustrating, you know?” So was he.

“Well that’s too bad.” I snickered. I decided not to make a scene, I could’ve bursted to him about the many ways he’s frustrated me. For starters, him being absolutely disgusted by me, ignoring me, then suddenly being enamored by me, then saving me, then ignoring me again, then suddenly he wants to get to know me? But, I wasn’t about to let the entire cafeteria know my frustrations with him.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled, then moved his gaze towards my original table. “I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you.”

I looked towards them. Angela and Jessica wore the same attitude: smiles and a fit of giggles. Lauren was angry as always, forcing herself closer to Tyler as he watched Edward and I with careful eyes. Eric pretended he wasn’t looking at all. Mike on the other hand, thankfully Jess hadn’t noticed, was burning holes at the back of Edward's head.

“They’ll survive.”

“Your boyfriend seems to think I’m being unpleasant to you – he’s debating whether or not to come and steal you away from me.” My face fell.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” I mumbled.

“He sure acts like he is.”

“Yeah, well that’s not my problem.”

Our table fell silent for a moment, until he spoke, “Aren’t you hungry?” No. I was full of nerves.

“No,” I said plainly. “You?” I knew what the answer was. It was embarrassing how attentively I watched him. He had food and he nibbled at it, but he never once ate. Same with his family. Emmett always carried a large amount of boiled eggs for whatever reason.

“Can you do me a favor?” I breathed out, hesitant to even say anything at all.

“Depends on what you’re asking for.”

“Not much…” He waited for my response. “What is this? What are we doing? Are we friends? Cause I don’t wanna waste my time if you’re just gonna ignore me again.”

“I told you – I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So… I’m giving up.” His smile was almost contagious, but I can see the pained look in his eyes.

“Giving up?”

“Yes, giving up. I’m not good for you, I know that. But, for some reason, I can’t seem to stay away from you.” He said softly. My breath hitched. I can’t seem to stay away from you. So, I wasn’t the only one.

“So…” I breathed in. I could hardly even bring myself to speak. “Friends?”

“Only if you tell me one of your theories.”

“Maybe later. Too many people around.”

He’d gotten up, I assumed that he’d wanted to leave. Instead, he moved his arm in front of himself, gesturing for me to go in front of him. “Lead the way.”

“You can’t be serious.” I laughed. The entire cafeteria’s eyes were on us, even his siblings and the stare they wore seemed unwelcoming, besides Alice, who tried her hardest to not break out into a smile.

All he did was give me another famous smirk. I practically jumped out of my seat, feeling all eyes on me as Edward and I left the cafeteria. We walked until no one was in sight, leading me to the back of the school on a hillside.

“Now, just one theory – I won’t laugh,” he said, plopping himself down in the grass.

“Yes, you will.”

“Please?” he breathed, leaning towards me.

I froze. My mind had gone completely blank. It took me a minute to recuperate before responding, “It’s dumb. I–I don’t know? Bitten by a radioactive spider?” It didn’t even sound better in my head at all.

“Well that’s not creative at all,” he scoffed.

“Well that’s all I’ve got. You haven’t given me much,” I laughed.

“You’re not even close,” he teased.

“No spiders?”

“Nope.”

“And no radioactivity?”

“None.”

“Dammit,” I sighed.

“Kryptonite doesn’t bother me, either.” He chuckled.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to laugh, remember?”

He struggled to compose his laughter.

After a few moments of silence, I started up again, “I just feel like… this doesn’t feel real. I’m here guessing which superpower you have and it sounds ridiculous, it really does…” I was caught up in thought, not even realizing the words I was saying aloud. “But I know what I saw. I just need a little help feeling a little less crazy here.”

“I wish you wouldn’t try.” His tone was serious again.

“Because…?”

“You say superpower, as in superheroes, but what if I’m not a hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” He tried to hide his remorse with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“No.” He seemed surprised by my remark. “I don’t believe that you’re a bad person. Dangerous, maybe? I don’t know. But not bad.”

“You’re wrong.”

Before I could even respond, the bell had rang, not even allowing me to process my thoughts.

I got up, offering my hand to his. “We’re gonna be late.”

He ignored my offer, gracefully standing up on his own.

“I’m not going to class today.”

“Why not?” I said, trying to hide my disappointment.

“It’s healthy to ditch class now and then.” He smiled, but still had a look of uneasiness.

“Not me. I’m gonna go,” I said. I couldn’t miss any more school than I already did, plus, I was a coward.

“I’ll see you later, then.” I wanted to stay with him. I considered it about fifty times in my head, but once I heard the first bell, my feet moved to its own accord.

As I fast-walked to class, I couldn’t help that my mind wandered to Edward. How none of my questions were answered, how I wasn’t afraid of him, how he thought of himself as a bad person. Only one question had been answered: I wasn’t the only one who felt a mental and physical pull towards him.

Lucky for me, Mr. Banner wasn’t in the class yet, so I hurried to my seat, hearing Jessica and Angela plead to come to their table for ‘deets’. Mike on the other hand looked resentful as he stared at me with his dejected eyes. I hushed them before Mr. Banner finally came into the room, juggling a few cardboard boxes in his arms, ordering Mike to pass them around.

“Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box,” he said, pulling a pair of disposable rubber gloves from his desk onto his hands. “The first should be an indicator card,” he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it. “The second is a four-pronged applicator –” he held up what looked to be a nearly toothless hair pick “– and the third is a sterile micro-lancet.” He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped.

It happened when I was 12. I always saw my dad watching sports, but no matter how hard I tried, I was never engaged. One thing I did love: tossing around a foam football in our backyard. It was something that I could be a part of, rather than being lost in all the rules and regulations, tossing around a ball with my dad was almost effortless, with either no rules at all or ones that I maliciously made up on the spot. One day, my dad’s hand was far too strong, throwing it far into the woods. Normally, there was never an issue. Either one of us would run over and pick it up because what was the harm? It was only our backyard after all. So, I ran to get it. I found myself wandering a bit too far off than usual, hearing my dad’s shuffling and yells to head back. When I turned to head back, on my left there was a foot in the distance. I ran to it, calling out to my dad over and over to help the poor person who laid motionless in the middle of the woods. But when I reached them, they were far from gone. There was blood, a lot of it. I could hardly stand the gory horror movies with the blood even knowing it was fake. But this was something entirely different. Blood was absolutely everywhere, pooling from the neck. I was mortified. I ran back screaming, fully broken out into sobs as I tried to explain to my dad what I’d seen. That was the first animal attack in years. Ever since then, I’ve had what the doctor’s called ‘hemophobia’. It had gotten better over the years, the only exception being television or movies where I mostly closed my eyes, but physically? Needles and blood draws were a different story entirely.

“I’ll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don’t start until I get to you.” I felt like all my senses had heightened. At Mike’s table again, he started by carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. “Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet…” He grabbed Mike’s hand and plunged the spike into the tip of Mike’s middle finger. Fuck. I felt sweat accumulate on my body, my hands leaving marks on the black countertop.

“Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs.” He demonstrated, squeezing Mike’s finger till the blood flowed. That was it. The entire room spun around me and I couldn’t move a single inch. The words of Mr. Banner turned into a mumble as the ringing in my ears rang at an uncomfortable volume. I squeezed my eyes shut, attempting to tune out the entire world. A flash of red floods through my vision, not blood, but hair. A fiery red shade that complimented her pale skin and dark lips. She ran through a forest, impossibly fast, never breaking a sweat. Next to her, a man, just as pale as her, blonde with his hair tucked away in a ponytail. Then a third, one with much darker skin, but they all shared the same quality: red, bloodthirsty eyes. Then there’s water. A dock. A boat. Then, blood. Lots of it.

“Y/N, are you alright?” a voice said. I opened my eyes and I was back in the classroom, Mr. Banner hovering over me. What the fuck.

“I– uh– I already know my blood type,” I said in a weak voice, wiping the sweat from my hands on my pants.

“Are you feeling faint?” I nodded in response. “Can someone take Y/N to the nurse, please?” I didn’t even have to look around to know that it was Mike who volunteered to take me.

I attempted to stand, but Mike had practically ran to my side, putting his arm around my waist and my arm to his shoulder, forcing me to lean on him on the way out of the classroom. While he lugged me across campus, my mind was moving faster than my body, which had almost completely shut down from the shock.

“Can we stop for a minute, please? I– I just need to sit.” I yelped out. He brought me to a bench on the side of the building before I begged, “And p-please, keep your hand in your pocket.” I didn’t know what would happen if I saw blood again. I shivered at the thought.

“Bella?” his voice called from the distance. No, please, no.

“What’s wrong – is she hurt?” His voice was much closer, a voice filled with worry?

I didn’t even bother opening my eyes, instead I rocked my body back and forth, knocking my head on the wall, hoping that by some miracle, I was dreaming.

“I think she fainted. She didn’t even stick her finger, I don’t know what happened.” I could hear the stress in Mike’s voice, also the anger. He wanted more than anything for Edward to go away and so did I.

“Y/N.” Edward was inches away from my face. “Can you hear me?”

“No,” I groaned. “Go away.” A chuckle left his lips.

“I was taking her to the nurse,” Mike explained defensively, “but she wanted to stop.”

“I’ll take her,” Edward said. Please, no. “You can go back to class.”

“No,” Mike protested. Oh god, here we go again. “I’m supposed to do it.” Even with my eyes closed, I could picture Mike attempting to stand his ground against Edward, who was probably three inches taller than him. If I wasn’t so mentally and physically drained, I would’ve giggled at just the mental picture.

Suddenly I didn’t feel the bench anymore. My eyes shot upon. Edward had effortlessly scooped me up in his arms as if I weighed nothing at all.

“Put me down!” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I could hear Mike yelling in the back, but Edward had already strode quick enough to the point where he was only a mumble.

“You look awful,” he said, grinning.

“Edward. Please put me down.” The rocking felt worse. He wasn’t listening, so I settled my arms around his neck to steady my movements. I couldn’t help but notice how much his body had gone rigid. 

“So you faint at the sight of blood?” he asked. Yes... and apparently have freaky visions too… I didn’t answer. “And not even your own blood,” he continued, obviously amusing himself.

“Oh my,” I heard a female voice gasp.

“She fainted in Biology,” Edward explained.

Opening my eyes, I found myself in the office with Edward already making his way to the nurse’s door, to which a lady opened for him. Edward gently placed me on the cot, moving only just inches away from me.

“She’s just a little faint,” he said to the nurse. “They’re blood typing in Biology.”

“Just lie down for a minute, hon. It’ll pass.” I nodded in response. “Does this happen a lot?”

“Hasn’t happened in a while.” I couldn’t help, but notice Edward from the side of me, barely being able to contain a laugh.

The nurse faced Edward. “You can go back to class now,” she told him.

“I’m supposed to stay with her.” The nurse didn’t seem to argue with him. How did Edward have such a way with people?

The nurse had left the room to get ice, to which I laid down on the cot, groaning, “You were right.”

“I usually am – but about what in particular this time?” I didn’t have the energy to argue.

“Ditching is healthy.”

“You scared me back there.” His tone surprised me. The way his breath hitched, as if he was confessing his deepest darkest secrets; that he was worried about me. “I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods.”

I stifled a chuckle. I tried to imagine poor Mike Newton, anxiety and all, trying to cover up my murder.

“How’d you see me? Thought you were ditching?” I sat up, facing him. Finally, the dizzy spell had passed.

“I was in my car, listening to a CD.” For some reason, it surprised me. So, he was normal-ish?

The door opened, revealing the nurse with an ice pack in hand, laying it across my forehead. “You’re looking better,” she chirped.

“Yeah, I think–” I was interrupted by the door opening, the receptionist had her head peeking through, claiming there was a boy waiting at the door for me.

The door fully opened to reveal Mike, awkwardly walking through the door, glancing from me to Edward, a look of loathe stretched across his face.

“You look better.” I nodded in response. He continued, “So, you ready to go back to class?”

The nurse interrupted before I could reply, “I think it would be best if she stayed. What’s your next class, dear?”

“Gym.”

“Oh my, Ms. Cope here will get a note right out to your class, dear, don’t you worry about that!”

Mike left awkwardly, mumbling, “Feel better. See you at the beach.” before heading back to Biology. I didn’t even realize Edward had left too. I took the time alone to lie back down, placing the ice pack back on my forehead, hoping the ice would numb my mind too.

I felt the cot from beneath me disappear and was once again surprised to see Edward scooping me up in his arms. I yelped, “What are you doing?!”

“Taking you home.” As it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Once we were through the doors, I could feel all eyes on me, both the nurse and Ms. Cope looked at me in admiration. I could feel my cheeks burning red from the embarrassment.

“I can walk, you know?”

“Yep.” I didn’t miss the smirk on his lips, especially when we’d passed Mike, who’d become even more red from the sight of us. Edward simply laughed it off.

As soon as we got to the parking lot, he set me on my feet, leaving us both to walk side by side until we reached our cars.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?”

“A little, yeah.” That damn smile. 

When I went to walk over to my own car, something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his eyebrows completely raised.

“Home?”

“I promised I’d safely take you home. You think I’m going to let you drive in your condition?”

He was right, as much as I hated to admit it. Not even twenty minutes ago I was recovering from a dizzy spell, accompanied by whatever the hell I saw when I closed my eyes. I only asked, “What about my car?”

“I’ll have Alice drop it off for you after school.” He loosened his grip on my jacket, placing his hand on my back to guide me to his car, to which he opened and closed for me once I’d gotten in.

He got into his car and settled his keys in, cranking up the heat. I didn’t even realize how freezing I was until he cranked up the heat, which eventually settled down my shivers. Before we set off, I told him my address. Then, a familiar tune flooded my ears.

“Clair de Lune?” I asked, surprised. When he said he was listening to a CD, I didn’t know what I’d expect to blare from his speakers, but it definitely wasn’t the elegance of Claude Debussy.

“You know Debussy?” He sounded just as surprised as I was.

“From my mom.” I nodded. “She plays a lot of classical music – I only know a couple of my favorites.”

“It’s one of my favorites, too.”

I leaned back into the gray leather seat, watching the rain, and letting the music soothe my nerves. The view outside had blurred completely into green and gray streaks, showing just how fast we were going, but the ride had felt as smooth as ever.

“If you don’t mind me asking… Why are you sensitive to blood?”

“Um…” I paused. For some reason, I felt alright with telling him. No one else had known besides my dad, the doctors, and the occasional therapist. “When I was 12, I saw an animal attack. It was in the woods by my house. There was a lot of blood… and since then, I don’t know… I just freak out.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely.

I let silence invade the space, before mumbling, “Your turn.”

“What?” He looked terrified. As if I’d just asked him to reveal one of his deepest and darkest secrets.

“Tell me something about yourself. It doesn’t have to be as deep and traumatic as mine… What about your family?” I deserved to know even a portion about his life at least.

“What do you want to know?”

“The Cullens adopted you?” I confirmed.

“Yes.”

“Can I ask what happened to your parents?” I didn’t expect an answer. Even after all that I’ve told him, it seemed too overbearing.

“They died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember them much. Carlisle and Esme are all I’ve ever known really. I couldn’t imagine two better people.”

“I’m glad.” I continued on, “And your brother and sister?”

“My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter… they are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain to wait for me.” He chuckled.

“Oh, shit.” I hadn’t even realized we stopped, let alone in front of my house already. “Sorry, yeah, I’ll um– see you later?” 

I didn’t get out of the car yet. I wanted to ask him something, even if I ended up regretting it later.

“Did you wanna come with us to the beach?” I breathed out.

A smile littered across his face. “Which beach?” Was he considering it?

“La Push.”

His smile lessened. So I asked, “Something wrong?”

“No, sorry.” His eyebrows furrowed intensely. “I just remembered Emmett and I had plans. Hiking in the Goat Rock Wilderness.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, have fun.” I tried to hide my disappointment, but I don’t think I fooled him too much. A smile was still spread across his face, almost amused by how I reacted.

Just as I was about to open the door, he said, “Maybe another time. Just the two of us. Somewhere more quiet.” I felt shivers down my spine.

“Y-yeah.” I stuttered. “Thanks for the ride.”

Slamming the door shut, I turned to face him, his smile still radiating even after he drove off.

next chapter

a/n: this one is a lot longer than the others and i had to rely on the book a lot for some of the dialogue, but just some little changes here and there! i hope you all like it!

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila

[evertidings]

HELLO!!!!!! i played this story like. a year ago and absolutely fell in love. due to switching computers my save files got deleted, so i finally got off my ass and replayed to catch up and god you've made me fall in love for a second time. A is actually the love of my life. i cannot stop thinking about him and the others, how dare you make such loveable characters?? i cannot wait for the next chapter, and just wanna thank you for sharing this with us. you're insanely talented.

:(((( thank you. had a bit of a bad night yesterday and i was doubting myself in every area possible, so i’m going to take this as reassurance that my imposter syndrome is wrong. muah <3