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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days ago

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because it's yours

for @steddielovemonth using the quote prompt: "If there is love, smallpox scars are as pretty as dimples. I'd love your face no matter what it looks like. Because it's yours." - Stephen King

rated t | 1250 words | no cw | tags: post-vecna, eddie munson lives, pre-relationship, injury recovery, first kiss, getting together

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Eddie’s not allowed visitors in the hospital, at least according to Wayne and Hopper. It’s for his own safety, they say.

Steve knows that’s partially bullshit. He’s good at sensing bullshit. But he plays along anyway, convinces the kids to just visit Max and they’ll plan a welcome home party for Eddie when he’s released. It gets harder by the day, especially when all the news they hear is that Eddie is healing well and should be good to go home even sooner than they thought.

No one tells them when he’s released.

Steve only finds out because he walks by the room Eddie’s been in, and instead of the door being closed, it’s wide open. There’s unfamiliar voices coming from the room. It could be doctors or nurses, but something makes him pause and peek in the doorway.

It’s an older woman and what appears to be her adult children, all of them having a very serious conversation about how she needs to be more careful while gardening.

Steve leaves before he’s caught eavesdropping.

He considers stopping by Dustin’s, see if he’s heard the news. Maybe the kids found out first.

Who is Steve to Eddie really?

Just because they gave each other looks and flirted a little and Steve carried him out of the Upside Down and-

He swallows the hurt and decides to go straight to Wayne’s new trailer. It’s just outside of town, easy to get to even with the damage done by the cracks. He’s been there a few times to check on him, even helped him set up his cable.

When Wayne opens the door, Steve knows something is off.

He doesn’t invite him in. Instead, he steps onto the porch and closes the door behind him. He gives Steve an awkward smile instead of his usual warm, comforting one.

“Is he home?” Steve asks.

“He’s sleeping,” Wayne allows. “He’s still recovering.”

“Do the kids know he’s home?”

“Son, he-“

“Why is he hiding? Everyone’s worried and just wants to make sure he’s okay. No one would keep him from resting!” Steve hates that his voice pitches higher. His hands are shaking. He’s never spoken to an adult he respects like this. “We just wanna know he’s safe.”

“He is.” Wayne sighs. “I told that boy no one was gonna stay away for long. He insisted everyone would forget him. I said no. He didn’t listen.”

Steve’s eyes dart over to the window he knows goes to Eddie’s bedroom. He’d been the one to help set it up when Wayne moved in.

“Can I please see him? I’ll be quick. I won’t even tell the kids yet. I just need to see,” Steve begs. “Please, Wayne.”

Wayne wordlessly opens the door and gestures for Steve to come inside.

He leads him to Eddie’s room, reminding him with a look to be quiet and not wake him up. Steve gives an understanding nod and walks into the room.

There’s sunlight sneaking through the blackout curtains, just enough to light up the bed that Eddie’s already wide awake in. Steve can’t help the smile blooming on his face.

Eddie looks scared, though.

His eyes are wide, and he’s pulled himself to the farthest corner of the queen sized bed. His hair’s a mess, proof that he probably was asleep just before Steve got here.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve waves. He doesn’t come any closer to the bed. “I just wanted to get eyes on you. Feeling alright?”

Wayne’s standing in the doorway behind Steve, probably trying to determine if he needs to step in or ride this out. If Eddie asks, Steve will leave. He doesn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“What’re you doing here?” Eddie asks.

Steve watches the way his jaw moves around the words, how his mouth twists differently, like it’s taking more effort to talk. The scar going across his cheek, up into his temple, and down to his neck seems to be the cause of it. It’s still an angry red, stitches visible in some places where the bites must’ve been deeper.

He walks forward slowly. Eddie doesn’t stop him. Neither does Wayne.

The scar is big. It’ll always be big, though Steve has plenty of experience with scars and knows it’ll fade into a paler pink than it currently is. It’ll be a reminder, every day, of how he almost died. Eddie will have this memory every time he looks in the mirror, every time his own fingers brush against the ridged skin.

Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face that’s scarless.

Eddie gulps.

“Is this why you didn’t want anyone to visit?” He whispers.

Eddie doesn’t answer, but his eyes closing and head tilting down is answer enough.

“Eddie, look at me.”

Eddie opens his eyes.

“Do you really think a scar could scare any of us away? After how we found you, a scar is the least of our worries. You don’t have to hide from us.”

Steve’s not sure if Wayne’s still standing in the doorway, too focused on the way Eddie’s holding his gaze now. He’s lost weight and he’s still pale, but he’s alive. He’s still beautiful.

Maybe even more now.

“You’re alive. Everyone just wants you alive.”

“I’m gonna look even weirder now,” Eddie rasps out. Steve wonders if there’s damage to his throat, something his voice may never recover from entirely.

“I dunno. I think it’s pretty badass. Since when do you care about looking weird, anyway?” Steve smirks. “The Eddie Munson I know would find a new ridiculous story to tell every time he’s asked about something this cool.”

“I was leaning towards making people believe I got in a fight with a dragon,” Eddie shrugs one shoulder. His cheeks are red, warm underneath Steve’s touch.

“And won.”

Eddie leans his head forward, resting his forehead against Steve’s. “Of course I won. A knight in shining armor saved me.”

“You saved everyone else first. Don’t forget that part of the story,” Steve reminds him.

“A hero’s brave sacrifice…” Eddie mumbles. Steve chuckles. “Maybe true love’s kiss?”

“Isn’t that supposed to break a curse?” Steve whispers, suddenly nervous about all the times they flirted before. Flirting is harmless until it’s not.

“You’re right. In this case, it’s the curse of never kissing a nice guy.”

“And you think I can break that curse?”

“Can’t hurt to try.”

It’s a little awkward at first, mostly because parts of Eddie’s jaw are still numb from nerve damage and moving in certain ways is difficult. But once Steve adjusts, and they both giggle against each others’ lips, it’s easy. They fit.

Eddie tries to deepen the kiss, but he is still healing, and he has to pull away when his stitches tug painfully.

“Your battle scars won’t matter to any of us. They damn sure don’t make you less beautiful to me. Everyone misses you,” Steve rubs his arm, the one with no visible bandages. “Can I at least bring Dustin over later? Let him see that you’re actually alive and the hospital and government haven’t been lying?”

“Is that what everyone thinks?”

“You have to remember we’ve been through this a lot. Hopper was dead until he wasn’t. Anything can be faked.”

“That’s reassuring,” Eddie groans. “Yeah. Bring everyone by tomorrow. I’ll even shower.”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “Do you need help?”

“With showering? I just might, big boy.”

The way Eddie smiles is different now, but Steve loves it all the same.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddielovemonth

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nightwingsgypsyrep · 2 days ago

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Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

#I’m low-key terrified to post this pls don’t hang draw and quarter me #batman #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #romani dick grayson

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 18 hours ago

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compos mentis 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: my head is fucked

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy brings you breakfast in bed. You can't help but feel the guilt rippling off him. All of this is penance on his part.

It's as close to vindication as you'll get. You're mother would never admit what she did, let alone apologise. That's when you see her again. You're not so sure you ever want to.

The world is distant. It doesn't feel quite real. It's like a dream. The edges aren't quite sharp enough and the colours are cloudy.

You look down at the plate and your stomach grumbles out of basic need. You don't have much appetite but your biology is at a constant battle with your mind. You shouldn't be able to breathe but you are, you should take your meds but you don't feel all that different.

A poached egg, whole wheat toast, turkey bacons, and thick greek yogurt with fruit. It's all very healthy but a bit more than you would eat, when you feel up to it. Your breakfasts are a hard-boiled egg or a small cup of hot oats and milk.

"I hope it's okay," he hovers at the foot of the bed. He's dressed already. You're less than put together. You're still groggy from a grief-laden sleep and the hangover of the bitter revelation. You wear his borrowed shirt and gym shorts, your messy hair untamed despite your efforts.

"I called in to the office. I don't think I could focus of I tried," he explains. "And there's too much to be done here."

"There is?" You nibble the toast.

You'd hoped for some time alone. Not to think, just to be. You're still lost in all of this. The anger, the hurt, the regret, the confusion, and shame...

"Sweetie, you don't have any clothes. I have a spare toothbrush for you but it's a travel one from a hotel. And you'll need everything else, right? Soaps and whatever."

"Oh, I... I don't... my mom has all my money..." you utter and deflate again. You put down the toast. Your stomach is roaring but you just want to puke again.

"I'll deal with that. Don't worry. She's not as clever as she thinks." He puts his hands on his hips. He does that when he's upset. He used to argue with your mom and stand like that. "Please, eat. Your clothes should be dry soon."

"My clothes?"

"I threw them in the wash for you--" his sentence is punctured by the doorbell. His jaw ticks. "I'll deal with that. Probably Mrs. Potter trying to give me more casserole."

He leaves and you put your focus on the plate. You shouldn't just eat because you're hungry, you should eat because he went to all this effort. You pick up a slice of toast and break through the soft yolk.

You eat deliberately. Chewing slowly, methodically. A shrill yowl tightens your throat around a swallow. You know that shriek.

You carefully slide the tray forward and balance it on the legs as you angle out from beneath. You go to the window and try to see past the eaves and awning. You can't. Only the police cruiser and a familiar car...

You listen. The noise wafts in from the bedroom door. You follow it and peer down at the front door. It's muffled but clearly coming from the porch.

You twist the handle nervously and open the door a crack. You can't see past Andy as he stands staunchly on the mat, arms crossed. You glance an officer's belt with the radio attached and your mother's snarl lashes you like a barb.

"He has my daughter. She's sick--"

"She's an adult," Andy insists. "I'm not holding her against her will."

"She can't-- I am her legal guardian. She can't be here on free will, genius."

"Ma'am," a stern female voice warns. "Sir, where is the daughter?"

"She's sleeping." He lies.

You let the door fall inward. You don't want to be in trouble. No one seems to notice. You stall and shiver on the threshold. It isn't cold, you're just scared.

You make yourself step out. There's not much room. As Andy stands like a wall. You peek around him.

"Hi," you murmur.

"My baby," your mother throws her hands up and comes forward. Andy moves to block her. "You can't keep me from my girl-- where is her oxygen? Officers, she needs air!"

“No, I don’t,” you say, quiet but firm.

Your mother flinches but doesn’t relent, “he’s manipulated her. I can call the doctor right now and you’ll see. She hasn’t been without her tank in years. She could die--”

“That’s not true,” you murmur.

“Ma’am,” the female officer warns. “Let her speak.”

You look around with wide eyes, taking in the full scene. Andy stands just behind you, you can hear him exhale. A male officer is on the other side of your mother. You open your mouth then shut it.

“Sweetie,” your mother reaches for you and you shy away.

“Alright, Jackson, you stay here, I’m going to talk to her. Alone,” the female officer says. She reaches out and waves you to her delicately. “You wanna come with me? We can talk. Just you and me.”

You gulp and look at Andy. His blue eyes blaze as he meets your gaze. He dips his chin slightly. You turn back and nod. As you cross the porch, your mother tries to latch onto you. The other officer, Jackson, pulls her back.

You sidle past her and follow the woman. She takes you to the curb. You look down at your bare feet then at her.

“I’m Officer Patel. What’s your name?” She asks.

You answer and she shifts so you can’t see the house. “Me and my partner came because we got a call about a possible abduction. We’re just here to hear the full story. What’s going on here?”

You rub your neck and fidget. You can’t tell her the truth. Not the full truth. You can’t tell her your mom lied to you. Not even that she hit you. You don’t want to go back to court. You don’t want to tell everyone how stupid and pathetic you are.

“I’m here.... because I want to be,” you shrug.

“Your mother says there was an argument.”

You chew your lip, “she couldn’t find her pills. She left. I don't know... I don’t know why she came back.” Your chin trembles and you clasp your hands on your shirt hem. You sway back and forth. “She doesn’t love me.”

You hang your head. That’s it. What you always knew deep down. What’s so clear now that she’s ground you into dust. You’re nothing to her so she made you into nothing at all.

“She’s your mom, I’m sure you two will work this out. Me and my partner are just making sure you’re safe. We were told that man is keeping you here without consent.”

You flinch and shake your head furiously. You wave your hands, “no, no. Andy... Andy helped me and... I shouldn’t be here because... because... because I’m a loser and.... my mom... my mom...” you stutter. “She doesn’t want me.”

“She says you’re sick? You need oxygen?” She prompts.

You twiddle your fingers. “No, not really. Not... all the time. I can breathe, see?”

She watches you, “right. How old are you, miss?”

“Twenty-four.”

She nods. “You’re not a minor?”

“No,” you blurt out. Many assume as much, especially with you always hiding behind your mom. “No, I’m an... adult.”

“Do you want to press charges against anyone?”

“Charges? For what?” You wonder.

She sighs. “You’re free to go. You’re grown up and you can make your own choices without mom.” She tuts and turns to look across the lawn, “Jackson, come on.”

You peer over. Andy stands, arms crossed, staring at you. Your mother rears like a snake, muttering under her breath. You head back up the walk and Officer Patel speaks again.

“You have to leave, Ma’am.”

You stop and peek over your shoulder. Patel points to your mother, “we will escort you if need be.”

Jackson looks at her. She snarls and stomps her foot, “oh don’t you even think of touching me.” She huffs and storms past him. She comes down the steps and you think for an instant, she might push you. She stops beside you. “I took care of you, sweetie. Do you think he will for long? After he figures out what you are?”

She continues past you. You continue up the paved squares and past Officer Jackson as he follows. As you come up to the steps, you hear the engines turn over. You’re suddenly very tired.

“Andy,” you drag your feet over the mat. “I want to lay down.”

“Alright, honey. We’ll sort everything out later,” he turns and stretches his arm across the door frame as you enter.

He shuts the door as you stagger on, eyes hazy with tears. Your own mother despises you. She’s right about him too. He’ll hate you one day but you don’t know what to do to change any of this.

💙

Andy makes you finish breakfast before you lay down. He’s right. It’s good for you to eat and you haven’t been doing a lot of that.

You lay down for an hour before you sense him getting restless. You can hear him downstairs. You can’t be lazy. You don’t have any excuses anymore. You’re not sick, just weak.

You make yourself get up and venture downstairs. He’s in the kitchen, flicking through his phone as it rests on the counter. You clear your throat and wring your hands as you enter.

“I’m sorry. I was upset. It’s really stupid but sometimes I just... can’t do anything. Even if I try. I’m sorry, Andy. I’m... so sorry.”

He faces you and his face contorts in a spectrum of emotion, “oh, honey, you don’t need to be sorry. I put your clothes on the couch for you. Just waiting. Take your time.”

“Waiting for me,” you frown and look at the floor. “My mom lied. A lot. But I don’t think she was wrong about everything.”

“What do you mean?” He shifts closer.

You shrug, “me. I’m... I’m useless.”

“No,” his voice hardens. “No, take it back.”

“What?” You pout and bat your eyes as you peek up at him.

“You’re not going to talk about yourself like that. Not with me. So take it back.”

“Oh, I’m sorry--”

“Apologise to yourself,” he insists staunchly. “Honey, don’t let her control you. She’s gone.”

“But... but...”

“You’re adjusting. I understand that. I’m not expecting you to be okay right now. Be patient with yourself. Be patient with me. We’re both... figuring this out.”

You nod and your lips twitch. You could cry.

“Thanks, er, I’ll... change then. Um, Andy... are we going somewhere?”

“Sure, sweetheart. I mentioned earlier, didn’t I? About clothes? I tried to get the officers to agree to an escort to go to your mom’s but you saw her. She’s not in her right mind,” he explains.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” you flutter your fingers nervously and he looks down at them. You clasp them over your chest to make them stop. “I’ll hurry up then.”

You turn and scurry out. You go into the front room and grab the neatly folded clothes. He keeps everything so tidy and in its place. You go to the bathroom and set it on the counter.

As you take your panties from between the jeans and tee shirt, you hesitate. It’s a bit embarrassing to think of him washing your underwear. You could’ve done it if he showed you where the machines are.

You shrug it off. You’re just happy he helped. It’s a nice feeling when people do things for you.

You change and bring out the borrowed clothes. Andy is still in the kitchen. You stand in the doorway.

“Where do I put these?” You ask.

He pops his head up and tucks away his phone, “oh, I can take care of them.”

“Thanks, Andy, but uh, could I see? I’d like to know where everything is so I can help.”

“Help?” He approaches and takes the clothes, his hands brushing over yours. “With what?”

“I don’t know, everything?” You say. “You helped me so much and I want to do the same. I want to be useful. I want to be... better.”

The tension leaves his shoulder and he smiles. “Alright, sure, that’s nice of you.” He goes to step past you then stops. “Sweetheart, you know, your mom is wrong. About everything. You’re an amazing girl. Really, you’re wonderful. And today, I want you to try as much as you can to forget. I want you to feel good about you, because you should. Because you deserve it.”

You swallow and bounce nervously on your feet, “Andy, you’re so nice.”

“I’m just being honest. Should’ve tried that a lot sooner,” he says.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #compos mentis #defending jacob

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gangstalkerbarbie · 2 days ago

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This being tumblr, for my own wellbeing I have to explicitly put forth that we disagree about the draft (I think a country that needs to draft should impose national service on all young adults without discrimination, I would have gone to war by now if my family had let me and I don't think that was my family's business).

Having said that: we probably agree that the thing is also that actually... they don't? Young women Don't intrinsically smell like that. No kind of human juvenile does. I was a teenage girl once and I raised my brothers and some of my cousins, I would know.

There is an oaty, warm, milky baby smell everyone has, especially concentrated around their hair whorl, but they grow out of it at puberty. If you've ever lived with an intact male or female animal and watched them go through puberty, you'll notice they lose the baby smell then too.

So at least we can rule out that he's a threat to literal children.

But like teenagers? Teenagers stink. There's not a special creamy buttery teenage smell for any sex of teenager, it's just that girls are pushed more to cover their hormonal teenager stink.

What do they cover it with? Perfume. Immoderate amounts of the stuff.

Due to the vagaries of culture (and how disgustingly normative just like outright pedophilia used to be in many places), a majority of little girl perfumes (so the ones you're supposed to grow out of around, say, 28) smell like buttery vanilla and suchlike. Edible sugary dainty fluffy smells, Shirley Temple kind of smells, aren't you just a sweet little thing, Daddy wants to eat you up.

These are the smells he's conditioned himself to find sexually irresistible. Again, adult women are often pressured not to wear them...

Not that he'll ever see this on a recycled post about him on a site he isn't remotely on, but I'm saying this for the benefit of the teens likely to find me from the Homestuck tag: they should prevent this guy from hanging out near high schools. He's both rapey and stupid, a combination routinely propagandised to girls as something you can and should want to have in your life, which you actually very much do not want remotely breathing near you.

Anybody talking about the smell of a woman in these sorts of terms is a fucking nutjob too. Everyone who is attracted to whatever sex enjoys that sex's pheromone stink, which is under no circumstances ever any kind of irresistible "fuck me" signal. Nobody consents to sex by existing. You always have control over your actions. "Not being able to resist" violating someone's bodily autonomy is always a choice and I unironically think that in a perfect world everybody who makes this choice should be chemically castrated.

This is why I don’t give a fuck when people say it’s mean for me to want all those with a Y chromosome to do forced military service and die in war. Because now they’re wasting all our resources to go on the internet and say pedophilic shit like this.

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cherrycheolkat · 2 days ago

Text

• hoodies and candy

feat. kim mingyu & choi seungcheol •

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹I ˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

pairing: kim mingyu x f!reader x choi seungcheol

word count: 4.6k

genre: fluff, angst, f2l, friendship, college au, study buddy au, soccer player!mingyu , clumsy!mingyu, cute!mingyu, soccer player!seungcheol, implied poly

summary: mingyu left his hoodie at y/n's after studying until he passed out - he doesn't know why y/n is wearing it and refusing to give it back, especially when he knows she just took pity on him and his horrible grades and is basically tutoring him through his econ class - maybe if he hadn't been a jerk the year before and blown up everything between them, but here they are, and he really just wants his hoodie back

warnings: explicit language, mentions of anxiety, sexually suggestive situations, drinking, implied poly relationship (throuple)

a/n: this changed as I wrote it, there should probably be a part 2 explaining seungcheol x reader…and maybe a part 3 were there’s some resolve..but this is what i have rn

♡ if you would like to be tagged in my upcoming posts, let me know

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

Mingyu sat up suddenly, his heart racing as he blinked sleep from his eyes because where was he, he wondered - he stared around the neat apartment trying to gather his bearings. His mouth was dry and tasted a bit gross - he knew he definitely wasn’t at home. He was on a couch though and there was a coffee table close by covered in textbooks. It clicked in his mind that he had been studying with y/n - fuck, he had been studying with y/n and had passed out - that was his best guess of the situation.

Shit, he thought, he had been studying with y/n the night before and had been tired from weeks of insomnia and morning practices and of all the fucking places, he blinked slowly and was amazed that she hadn’t thrown water on him and kicked him out.

He attempted to quietly grab all of his books and notes and laptop - if he had managed to go unnoticed for this long, he wanted it to stay this way. The last thing he needed was for her to stop helping him study for econ and his random ass poly sci class.

She was literally the only reason he was making it through either of those classes. He blinked hard, trying to focus on which notes were his. He knew this was a cluster fuck, and god forbid she somehow didn’t know he was still there. He stopped and rubbed his face again before checking one more time that he had gotten his things and left everything else undisturbed.

He glanced around, hoping that she wasn’t like actually standing just out of view watching him make an ass of himself. The situation might be a bit better if he didn’t have the crush that he had - the one that he pretended he didn’t have because if he admitted it then all his teammates and friends would be right about what a fuck up he was - that he had fucked up everything with y/n almost immediately.

He shook his head, this was not the time to dwell on that thought, he needed to pull himself together and stop mentally rehashing the same things. It had been like more than a year anyway, and he was lucky that she was even willing to talk to him. But after the first econ exam grades posted, he had swallowed his worries and asked for her help.

It hadn’t been easy either - she was busy packing up, talking to her seatmate, who also seemed to know what was going on and before he could even say anything, she had glanced up.

She had looked him over for a split second, “Hey, Gyu,” she leaned on the table with her face resting in her hand like she just knew he was going to ask something.

He could only hope that he didn’t flush the brightest shade of red, “Hey, uh,” he hated being nervous and stamming or speaking too fast, “can I talk to you?” he asked quietly, not wanting to announce to everyone that he was absolutely sucking ass in this class.

She quirked an eyebrow at him but nodded, “Yeah, why not - I’m in a good mood,” he bit his lip wishing that that was some cryptic phrase, but he knew it wasn’t. The last time they had talked hadn’t been good and it had been late the previous fall when they met - and now he was talking to her after another fall semester had passed. Still, he nodded, he was fine with whatever she said.

He waited for her to grab her bag and wave to her friend who gave Mingyu a less than kind once over before glancing back at her with a skeptical look. Regardless, she turned back to him, “Come on then, I need to grab some coffee, assuming that works for you?” she asked, voice a bit sharp.

He nodded and tagged along as she crossed the lecture hall in easy, long strides. He wondered how it escaped him that she was also tall - not his height, but tall. And from behind he noticed the little wispy hairs that had escaped her ponytail and gently touched her neck. He chewed his lip lightly wondering how he had managed to tell her he wasn’t interested. But he had - he had looked at her and said he wasn’t into long term things, and they hadn’t talked after that.

He could see the scene all too well in his memory - the way her easy smile had dropped away, and her face had hardened instead - the way she had nodded, and said ‘oh’. He regretted it the moment he had said it, but he had seen her phone when she had gone to the bathroom. He hadn’t meant to, but he had seen all the texts from some other guy asking her where she was - that he missed her. Mingyu could only guess that he was some rebound fuck, at best. It had hurt because they had gone out a few times, and he had been excited for her to stay over because his roommate was out of town. He had loved being alone with her and the way they had made out - he had thought maybe it was serious.

He had just felt so dumb then, lying back on his bed, feeling her warmth slowly dissipating from the spot next to him - he felt dumb and upset, not really angry. She was out of his league to begin with. He knew that he was a bit of a dork, like naturally - dorky and clumsy. And she was beautiful and smart. He knew it was better if he just made up something and ended it before he really got carried away with his own happy thoughts of her.

Besides, when she inevitably got back together with this other guy, she would just drop him anyway. So he was really just doing them both a favor by ending things where there were. He was surprised by her though, the way she had stared at him for a moment - the way she had looked like she wanted to say a lot more than she did - but she had just shaken her head and muttered something to herself as she got dressed and walked out of his room.

He stayed in the rest of the weekend, feeling like absolute shit. Hoping that somehow it was her texting him every time his phone went off because maybe she would call his bluff and - he had stopped his thoughts there and decided he just needed to accept that he wasn’t for her - some guy named ‘Soonie’ was though.

He moped around during his holiday break too, and even for a few days when the spring semester started, but then soccer practice had started in earnest and took up all of his brain power. The games had started in the fall, but the intense games were set for spring. The weird thing was, he had been certain that he had seen her at some of the games. He knew there wasn’t a ‘Soonie’ on the team though, so he had never really figured that part out, and he tried not to dwell on it.

But now he had successfully made it out of her apartment and back to his own to shower. He really hoped that she somehow hadn’t noticed him sleeping in her living room, but he knew that was ridiculously unlikely, which meant that she had just let him sleep there. He pressed his forehead against the cool tile remembering one terrible fact - he had woken up with a blanket. She knew, he thought, of course she knew, she had given him a blanket to sleep with - fuck - he was fucked, that was the only conclusion. And he had to show up to class too, he rolled his eyes at the thought.

He made it to class just in time - right as the professor was closing the door. He rushed to his seat and only after he was settled did he dare to glance over at her - she wasn’t paying attention. She was busy taking notes, but he noticed what she was wearing. He choked on air, coughing and making a few people stare for a moment, but he didn’t care, y/n was wearing his hoodie.

It took him a moment to regain his composure, or what was left of it because his mind was whirring - why was she wearing his hoodie, he wondered. He couldn’t pay attention during class. And when there was a break, he started after her, planning to ask for it back, he guessed - he didn’t know what his fucking plan was. But she had already left the room. He whined quietly, feeling foolish and exposed.

But when he turned around her seatmate was there, “Looking for something?” he asked, voice acidic.

Mingyu started to shake his head but the seatmate suddenly held up his phone and it was a picture of Mingyu asleep on her couch - he swallowed hard and reached for the phone, only for the guy to yank it away.

He smiled, “You’re lucky she still thinks you’re cute - I told her to kick you out, like any other trash,” he finished and turned to walk away.

Mingyu felt like he had been smacked - some random guy was calling him ‘trash’ and he had Mingyu’s photo - he was suddenly feeling all his nerves hit at once. He tried to breathe through the anxiety, even though he could feel his heart pounding. He jumped when he felt someone touch his arm - her.

He couldn’t even make eye contact. He could feel all the panic rising and washing over him like a wave. He didn’t exactly know what happened next, but he knew he was suddenly in the bathroom dry heaving.

He didn’t care about his grades anymore. He had only made it back to his room because Seungcheol had shown up with his inhaler. And he had gone into Mingyu’s class and collected his bag, saving Mingyu the immediate embarrassment of returning to class.

He found himself lying on his couch, the tv playing lightly in the background while Seungcheol played some game. Mingyu knew Seungcheol was there to keep him company and make sure he didn’t lose it again. He didn’t ask what was wrong or what happened. He just stayed close and ordered food for them.

It was the next morning before Mingyu even realized he didn’t have his phone. He heard his alarm and immediate grumbling from Seungcheol as he turned it off. Mingyu imagined going to grab his phone, but he had the annoying feeling that that would cost him something - probably an explanation. He decided he was okay without it.

He curled into himself and went back to sleep, only waking up again when Seungcheol woke him, “Seriously, please fucking answer her - she’s driving me insane,” he dropped Mingyu’s phone onto his stomach.

Mingyu groaned and rolled over, not sure who “her” was. He vaguely wondered if maybe it was his Mom or something.

He didn’t think about it again until that night, when he went to eat with Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua.

He had slept most of the day. And according to Joshua, he was required to shower and change clothes if he was going out with them - he couldn’t look “depressed and shit” because it was “killing the vibes.” He didn’t mind cleaning up, but he sometimes found Joshua’s bluntness annoying.

He showered and changed into loose fitting black pants and a black tee. He pulled on his high tops and a jean jacket as he walked outside to meet the other guys. He was quiet as they walked along, barely speaking until they were in the restaurant and he had to place his order for food and a drink.

He still felt like shit, so he started with beer. He had had several when he felt his phone buzzing. He had been ignoring it since Seungcheol gave it to him. But now it wasn’t a text, it was the call screen. He practically threw it off the table trying to silence it completely.

When he glanced up, he realized Seungcheol was watching him, “Did you ever answer?” He asked in that nonchalant way he had.

Mingyu knew him well enough to know he was interested, and he had probably told Jeonghan and Joshua since both were suddenly very quiet - they were all waiting.

He shrugged, “I’m not in the mood,” he imagined he sounded serious.

But that idea was quickly shattered as Joshua finally took over, “So what happened anyway?” He sipped his drink like it was the most normal question.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “I’m sure you already know,” he glanced at Seungcheol, knowing he was a traitor.

Jeonghan spoke up, “No, actually, none of us know why you had a panic attack in the middle of your class,” he spoke softly - for once he didn’t appear to be teasing.

Joshua coughed, “Well, that’s not exactly true,” and he unlocked his phone to show a group chat that included the picture Mingyu had seen the day before - him falling asleep at y/n’s. There he was slumped over, cheek pressed to his textbook, and a dark green blanket tossed over him.

He glanced quickly and noticed the sender was ‘Soonie’, with the message “did you actually say he’s cute.” Mingyu saw the message underneath from y/n saying “yes, he’s cute - what about it???” and asking if she should wake him. Apparently, no one thought she should, at least in the gc.

Again, Mingyu just shrugged, “She’s helping me with econ. I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he huffed.

Joshua sighed, “You have to know it’s not the falling asleep part,” he glanced at Mingyu in a judgmental way, “It’s what happened in your class, when you saw her and uhm absolutely lost your shit,” he smiled sweetly as he said the last part.

Mingyu rolled his eyes, “Yeah, well I wasn’t expecting to have someone shove that photo in my face and tell me how she should have kicked me out, okay?” He knew he was talking way too fast, “and I wasn’t expecting her to come to class wearing my hoodie either - I just wanted to ask for it back,” he went back to sipping his drink.

Seungcheol was still watching him, “She’s been texting since your class yesterday - I had to force you to take your phone because I couldn’t handle any more texts asking if you’re okay or not,” he swirled his drink, avoiding eye contact as he added fuel to the fire.

Mingyu was quick, “You could have just answered that I was fine,” he shot back.

Seungcheol snorted, “I’m not answering the texts you want to avoid, especially from y/n,” he finished.

“What does that mean? Especially from y/n,” he quipped back, feeling insulted for some reason.

He saw the collective eye rolling from the other three, but it was Joshua who responded, “Because we all know something happened between you two - you were all cute and disgustingly sweet and then, suddenly, out of nowhere, even mentioning you around her was like setting off a bomb,” he was staring at Mingyu as he spoke.

“I don’t think we were all that cute” —

Joshua and Jeonghan cut him off with groans, talking over one another to tell Mingyu just how cute and gross he and y/n had been the year before.

The thing that made it through clearly was the reminder that before anything, Mingyu had the habit of giving y/n back hugs at parties. He knew they were notorious for being beer pong partners, but even if they were just waiting to play, he had the habit of pulling her close against him.

He shook his head, “It wasn’t like that,” he didn’t care what history they were throwing at him.

Joshua laughed, “Dude, we all watched you - you were like attached,” he laughed again, “just admit you’re down that bad, it’s not the end of the world - I mean, she’s hot, either admit you’re still into her or say you’re over her so at least Seungcheol can take a shot,” he giggled softly.

Mingyu was quick to look at Seungcheol - he could feel the heat come into his cheeks.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, “Dude!” He was fast to call Joshua out, “I’ve literally never said I’m into her,” he had the look of pre-rage-Seungcheol - his eyes were wide and his normal cuteness was gone. He was glaring daggers at Joshua.

“You’ve never really had to say it though, have you?” Jeonghan asked in a whisper, giggling with Joshua.

Mingyu felt his mouth go all dry at once. It had never crossed his mind that anyone else was into her, well not any of his friends at least. But it suddenly made sense why she would have come to some of their soccer games. She was into Seungcheol.

Mingyu blinked slowly, and nodded, “Yeah, look I’m going to head home,” he knew he sounded weird. But it didn’t matter.

He was up and out the door before any of them could say anything. He was almost out of earshot when he heard Seungcheol’s sudden outburst of “why the fuck would you tell him that?” He had left money on the table. He didn’t care what happened.

He planned to go home, but there was a text that caught his eye. Caroline. They had a bunch of classes together. They talked at parties. She was hot. Seungcheol could have y/n all to himself, and Mingyu could move on.

[caro 21:07]

hey come save me from boring party talk plzzzzzzz

He nodded to himself. Yes, a distraction was what he needed. He silently thanked her as he typed a fast response.

[mingyu 21:08]

sure but where am I going??

She sent him the address. He asked the driver to change his destination.

He was glad he had showered and made a small effort to get dressed. The party was loud. But he found Caroline easily enough - she was hard to miss if he were honest. She was quick to hug him, pressing close to thank him for showing up. He just nodded, not in the mood to yell over music and other voices.

She wound quickly through various rooms before going upstairs. He almost pulled back, but then again, he wondered why he bothered - he wasn’t seeing anyone.

She pulled him along to a door, but it was odd when she knocked on the door. He watched the door crack open and heard the soft, “Caro, I’m not really in the mood,” from inside.

Caro leaned against the door to say something in a hushed tone. Mingyu thought about leaving, but he felt the tight grip on his arm. He was maybe a bit slow in realizing Caroline had no intention of letting him slip away without a good reason, looking at her hand, he could only assume the acceptable reason was maybe the house being on fire.

He found himself being pushed through the doorway, “Look, you two need to chat for like ten minutes at the very least and if that’s too much, then okay, fine - you’re maybe the most stubborn people to exist,” she had shoved Mingyu inside the room and closed the door by the time she finished her sentence.

He glanced to see he was in a bedroom, not one he knew. And there was y/n sitting on the floor. He was almost annoyed.

She was dressed for the party. She was always cute, but he liked her tendency towards jeans and slightly boyish tops that she managed to make very girlie - like the little collared sweater she was wearing and the fact that he could see through the thin knit to the lace bralette beneath.

She glanced at him for a moment and sighed, “I guess you didn’t die,” she rolled her eyes and looked anywhere but at him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, knowing he kind of deserved a bit of attitude. He sat down across from her and swallowed, waiting for her to at least look at him. He was glad he at least had a beer.

She glanced his way after a few moments of quiet. She watched him for a minute or two, and then she moved all at once to be in his lap. Her arms encircled his neck. He couldn’t help but breathe in the scent he had been missing. His heart immediately beat faster.

He felt her fingertip trace against his lower lip, “What did I do?” Her voice was so soft.

He stared for a moment, “I’m just a rebound,” he saw the immediate confusion on her face.

She almost laughed, “Rebound from who?”

He gently loosened her hands from his neck, “Soonie,” he felt like it was obvious.

“Soonyoung?” She sounded immediately baffled, “What are you talking about?”

“I saw his texts to you - ‘babe i miss you - you know i’m jealous - come home,” he mimicked.

She laughed, and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, “Holy shit, seriously - that’s why you went all ‘I don’t like long term’ on me?”

She was staring at him. He flushed, “It seems like a real reason to me,” he couldn’t understand why he felt dumb.

She glanced around for a moment like she was searching for the words she needed, “Gyu,” she paused, “Soonie is - Soonie and me?” She shook her head, “we would both rather die than, oh my god, that’s just how we talk!” She had grabbed his forearms, “it is not whatever you thought, okay - I swear,” she let go of him to cross herself for emphasis.

He flushed slightly, “Then who is he?”

“A close friend - like since childhood friend - he sits next to me in econ,” she waited for a moment, “trust me, it’s impossible for me to be his type,” she looked almost on the verge of tears.

Mingyu thought of the guy who seemed to hate him for no reason, “So a childhood friend who seems to absolutely hate me” —

She cut in, “Seriously, there’s nothing between us - we would literally kill each other,” she sounded intense now.

He shrugged, “Sounds like you’re just waiting to get together,” he wasn’t in the mood.

She stared at him for a long moment, “Trust me, there’s no waiting around for one another - we aren’t like that, like for one it would make things so weird since we’re step-siblings,” she made a terrible face, “not to mention it’s literally posted on our old school’s website where we got into a fight during a debate club meeting - they had to drag us off stage,” she was less imploring, but still close, watching him as he absorbed what she was saying.

Mingyu wasn’t sure what to think. He believed her. He would have probably believed her without the explanation, if he were honest. But it didn’t change the way he felt. It didn’t change the sinking feeling in his stomach that told him he had wasted time.

She stared at him, waiting. The quiet stretched out between them. She sighed, “Do you want me to call him? You can see pictures of our family?” She offered before sighing and crossing her arms. She looked defeated.

He was surprised when she suddenly stood up, “Okay, anyway, so I’ll see you around.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had carried the thought around for so long. He was going to come upstairs with someone else. He felt stuck.

He ran a hand through his hair, before glancing back, “Seungcheol likes you - he’s just been waiting around to figure out what’s wrong with me, I guess.”

He couldn’t see her face, “Ahah, uhm,” he could hear the pause, “thanks I guess,” he could hear the small tremble in her voice.

He closed his eyes, knowing what he wanted to do. But somehow he couldn’t make himself move. Instead, he silently wished for her to come back - he pleaded mentally for her to come back. He wanted to feel her arms around his neck again.

And then he heard himself, the deep, shaking sigh. He was sure she had slipped out the door and was already downstairs. He turned around to see her still standing, her back against the door.

She watched him, “Do you really want me to just leave?” She asked softly.

He shrugged.

She walked back to and gave him a small shove, “I’m here with you, and I’ve been waiting around, trying to to figure out what I did,” she whispered.

He shook his head, “You didn’t do anything, okay?” He was exhausted, “It’s my fault - I fucked everything up, and now I’m sitting here, knowing that I fucked everything up even more than I originally thought, okay? It’s even worse,” he pulled his knees close and hid his face.

He heard her scoff, “Do you think I would have even helped you if things were so impossible between us?”

He didn’t answer.

He felt her hand lightly on his head - she ran her fingers through his hair, “Look, come downstairs with me - be my beer pong partner and hug me close like you normally would, okay? Think of it as a re-do. We can re-do that night and the day after and leave out the misunderstanding - just pretend it’s not part of our timeline,” she whispered, pulling his hair gently.

He looked up at her. She reached down, smoothing his bangs, “Please,” she offered. He felt himself nodding. He wanted nothing more than to wipe away all the time he hadn’t been with her.

He woke up the next morning wrapped around her. He pressed close, nuzzling her neck, kissing the sensitive, exposed skin. She was sleeping in his tshirt and her underwear.

He imagined dipping his hand down, under the delicate fabric of her panties to tease her clit and her pussy. But he heard the soft snore, the one that wasn’t from her. It was the one from Seungcheol.

Mingyu was curled around y/n, and y/n was curled around Seungcheol.

Mingyu chewed his lip lightly, knowing it wasn’t worth it to upset the balance right now. Especially when he barely wanted to acknowledge there was a balance to maintain. He pressed closer to her, knowing now that she hadn’t needed him to tell her anything about how Seungcheol felt - she knew perfectly well. He sighed gently, wondering how he had set this all in motion.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹I ˚ .𖥔 ݁ ִ ࣪⚝₊ ⊹˚ .𖥔 ݁

a/n: i started writing this last year and just found it in my drafts - i think i originally imagined this as a sick fic but tbh it went off the rails in a not fun way, and it still maybe does go off the rails, but idk gyucheol x reader seems fun so why not

tell me if you want the seungcheol pov..better! should they be rivals??? or throuple sandwich..or throuple who doesn’t acknowledge it - y/n just yk makes plans with them equally - they’re adults - no one is jealous ;-;

♡ kat

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