#slicing up eyeballs

[ridenwithbiden]

On this day in 1989, De La Soul released their debut album “3 Feet High and Rising” featuring “Plug Tunin'" “Potholes in My Lawn" “Eye Know" “Me Myself and I" “Say No Go" & “Buddy"

It is consistently placed on ‘greatest albums of all time’ lists by noted critics & publications.

Slicing Up Eyeballs

[rudyscuriocabinet]

‘Do You Remember’ 5-part podcast series to trace origins, legacy of Hüsker Dü

From the venerable Slicing Up Eyeballs: “Minnesota Public Radio’s The Current has just  launched a five-part documentary podcast series called “Do You Remember?” that promises to trace the formative years and legacy of Hüsker Dü through interviews with those who were there as well as the three band members themselves — including Grant Hart, who was interviewed in August, weeks before his…

[deva-arts]

Testing out CSP Assets hehehe

The city can be pretty beautiful with enough distance and a nice view.

Oh. I forgot what kind of story this was.

She ends up short circuiting the main terminals and letting it crash into a processing facility. Then she takes a stress nap and worsens her insomnia.

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑖𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡��: 5.7k | chapter 3 of 4

Then

“I want to climb trees, this is so boring,” Touya complained, face down on the sofa.

You flung a piece of plastic pizza at him, laughing when it bounced off his back. Touya turned to give you the evil eye, daggers in his gaze.

“Keigo and Rumi will be here soon, can you just wait?” you asked.

On your other side, Shouto made an unhappy grunt, leaning out from behind you to give Touya a narrow-eyed little gaze. “Y/N is busy. Do not interrupt,” he said primly.

Touya grunted. “Y/N isn’t yours, you little shit. Y/N is my friend.”

Shouto puffed up next to you, little hand gripping your shirt. “Y/N is mine, Touya.” His mismatched gaze was intense where it fixed on his older brother, like he was trying to set him on fire with his eyeballs.

You shifted in between them with years of long practice, blocking their line of sight. Brothers.

“I really want to play house, if only someone would stop arguing and play with me,” you said, making sure to sound extra pathetic. That always got Shouto.

As expected, he immediately abandoned Touya, patting you as if to reassure you. “Of course I will play with you, Y/N,” he pronounced solemnly, like he was declaring some oath of office.

You snorted, turning back to Shouto’s kitchen playset with him. It had been Touya’s first, several years ago when you first visited the Todoroki house. Back then he still deigned to play with it, bossing you around like the alpha of the house, though you didn’t quite think he was going to grow up as one. Then you’d gotten too old for it, preferring video games or board games or ranging around the neighborhood, up to little good.

Today was a rare day that Keigo was permitted to come out and run around the neighborhood with you, but you had to wait for him to get here first with Rumi. And so you’d allowed Shouto to drag you over to the kitchen set while you waited, he its final owner.

“What shall I make you, Mr. Todoroki?” you asked Shouto, shifting the little plastic frying pan around on the wooden stove top. “I make a mean sliced banana. Or a sandwich, or chicken.”

Shouto moved to sit next to you, peering at his options. “I want to make it with you.”

You smiled. “You don’t want me to cook it for you?”

Shouto shook that mop of scarlet and white hair. “I want to do it together.”

You laughed. “Alright, then how about you cut up the veggies for our sides and our sandwich, and I’ll cook the chicken.”

Shouto laid out a myriad of plastic vegetables on the counter, levering his plastic knife through the velcro in their center with great concentration. You tried not to reach out and pinch his cheek for how cute he was. You didn’t understand how Touya got so annoyed with all his younger siblings when they were this sweet.

You got to work frying your plastic pile of chicken, laying it out on fake plates across the carpet when you were done. Shouto carefully placed the sliced vegetables next to it, and then the two of you bent over the pieces of a sandwich, layering in the plastic onion, tomato, lettuce, and bread.

“Shall we make you up a plate, Touya?” you asked. Touya just flashed you a rude gesture from the couch.

“This is only for you,” Shouto insisted, pushing your plate at you. You grinned down at him, passing over the fake cutlery.

“Well thank you, chef Shouto. I am honored to be worthy enough of your cooking,” you said.

Shouto’s little cheeks flushed, as if embarrassed. He pretended to take a bite out of his sandwich, and then a swig out of his fake bottle of milk.

“So, how was work?” he asked, out of nowhere.

You blinked at him, then startled into another laugh. Oh, so he wanted to play real house, like you were married. So funny.

You pretended to take a thoughtful bite of your own meal. “Very busy and tiring,” you said. “I couldn’t wait to come home.”

Shouto scooted a little bit closer to you, pushing some of his fake veggies at you, their velcro innards rolling. “You need to eat a lot to keep your energy,” he pronounced. “Until I can make enough money that you do not have to work so hard.”

You grinned. So he thought he was going to be the breadwinner, huh? Not super traditional for an omega, but times were changing. You couldn’t imagine an alpha who wouldn’t want to provide for sweet little Shouto, though, so that was something he and his life mate were going to have to negotiate.

“We’re already rich, idiot,” Touya said from the couch. “Mom said we all have an inheritance.”

Shouto’s eyebrow twitched, like he was annoyed Touya was intruding on this private domestic discussion.

“Then you can have my inheritance,” he insisted to you, though you knew he had absolutely no idea what that meant.

You pretended to think on this.

“What if I use some of it to open my bookstore, and then pay you back the profits?” you asked.

Touya thought your dream of a bookstore was stupid, so you anticipated his annoyed grunt from the couch. But you still liked the idea of it. Ever since you were little, you’d wanted to own one of the brick-faced shops right along the waterfront, somewhere you could walk to from your house. You’d pile it high with thousands of books and plants and string-lights and have all your friends come over after hours to hang out.

You didn’t want to leave your hometown like so many people did. You wanted to make a home right here on the coast, where you could watch over your mom and hang out with Shouto and Touya and Keigo and Rumi.

Though these days you’d become aware that starting a business required upfront money first. Hopefully you would figure out how to get some by the time you graduated highschool. But the Todoroki inheritance would work nicely for your fantasy bookstore.

“You do not have to pay me back the profits,” Shouto insisted. “If we are married.”

You laughed. “Right, right. Then they’re our profits.”

“This is sickening,” Touya said, his voice muffled into a pillow.

You wiggled your eyebrows at Shouto, considering saying something that would bait Touya, but then the doorbell rang. Touya shot up off the couch, rushing over to let in his saviors.

“Looks like Keigo and Rumi are here,” you told Shouto. “Thank you for a delicious dinner.”

Some tiny flicker crossed Shouto’s serious little face, something like annoyance, which you so rarely saw on him. “I want to make it together again.”

You nodded, patting his fluff of multicolored hair. “Yeah, we’ll do it again. Next time we’ll even do dessert, okay?”

Shouto looked momentarily appeased. “And you’ll eat it all. So you have energy.”

You laughed, yanking on one of the strands of his hair fondly. “Absolutely. You take such good care of me, Shouto.”

A pleased little smile turned the corner of his mouth. He placed a hand on your knee as you heard Keigo and Rumi spill into the house, the rustle of Rumi and Touya immediately tussling.

“I will take good care of you always,” Shouto said seriously. “You have my word.”

“I trust it,” you said. And you knew he meant it.

Todoroki Shouto was such a sweet boy, and he was going to make someone a very good not-pretend husband one day. You waved to him as Rumi looped a nut-brown arm over your neck, pulling you outside.

These days, you’d been aware that life was not going to be as stable as you’d always assumed it would be as you grew up. But you hoped you’d still be around to see Shouto grow up too, married and happy like that with his own real life partner some day.

You wondered where you would be when that finally happened.

Now

The next few days proved a test of your resolution to be normal about Shouto.

Everywhere you went, it seemed like Shouto was there—or maybe you were the problem, finding yourself drawn to wherever he was.

You took meals at the Todoroki house a couple more times, eating them out of house and home like you had as a teen—Shouto always stopping by too to eat something on his way on or off a shift. Twice your morning runs had taken you by the fire station, only to see a pair of mismatched eyes tracking you curiously from the engine bay, burning hot on your back as you quickly scurried away, feeling insane.

Shouto joined Touya when he met you and Rumi and Keigo for drinks one evening, Touya looking just as chagrined to have his baby brother tagging along as he had when you were kids.

“Shouto-duty,” he’d growled, the same as when you were little and he was charged with Shouto’s care. Shouto’s face had gone carefully blank, the paragon of innocence, and you’d laughed as he angled himself into the booth across from you.

Of course you’d quickly shut up when he’d pressed his calf up against yours, his long legs unfurling under the table. You’d quickly jerked your leg aside to make space for him, but he stretched out further, an ankle pressing to yours. He didn’t seem to mind, although it made your face warm for some reason.

Shouto had been good company, and had patiently endured Rumi’s hair ruffling and Keigo’s incessant teasing. He’d even walked you home at the end of the evening, like a protective alpha, even though you were not an omega and could damn well take care of yourself. And he’d lingered as you’d unlocked the door, smiling his tiny, careful little smile, and looking almost like he was waiting for something.

You’d bitten out a strangled good night and quickly barricaded yourself inside the house, lest you do something stupid.

That had the unfortunate effect of making you feel even more like a girl returning home from a date, however, and your mother had been almost beside herself with glee when she’d caught a hint of Shouto’s scent as you’d jerked the door closed behind you.

“An alpha?” she’d prompted again, abandoning her soap opera to lean over the couch arm eagerly.

“It’s just Shouto,” you’d explained hastily, waving your arms, a little loose with the drinks you’d had. “It’s not anything.”

Your mother’s eyebrows had gone up. “I thought he was your child bride.”

You hissed, shushing her, casting a stricken glance at the open window. You hoped Shouto had turned around immediately and gotten out of hearing range or you were going to have to kill your own mother.

“He is like my orderly, helping me off the shuttle back into the retirement home,” you said, turning and emphatically shedding your jacket and shoes, effectively ending the conversation.

But that hadn’t been the end of it. You’d seen Shouto a million times more since then, culminating in a final sighting the night before the run.

You’d ducked out to the grocery, intent on gathering up a day’s worth of supplies for the run. For most people it was over within a few hours—omegas had a thirty minute head start but usually went no further than a mile out, the ritual no longer the strict test of a mate it might have been back before things like showers and wifi and nine-to-fives were invented. But you always went to the coast, a hike of at least an hour or two, and you needed to stay up your tree for at least a few more while the more daring omegas who’d come out around you were summarily hunted down and properly bedded.

With the hike back accounted for, it usually took up most of the day, and you’d long learned your time was best spent with a book, a few bottles of water, and several snacks on hand.

You recognized Shouto’s distinctive mop of hair and broad shoulders as soon as you turned onto the produce aisle. He’d seemed somehow to sense you already—though betas were notoriously harder to scent than omegas—mismatched eyes already pinned to you as you rounded the corner.

You startled, your basket jerking in your grip.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, sidling up to him.

Shouto watched you approach, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Y/N,” he intoned, peering curiously into your basket. A long-fingered, elegant hand reached out to touch the snacks you’d gathered there, everything but the apple you’d been targeting when you’d turned into this aisle.

“For the run?” Shouto guessed, eyes darting back up to catch yours.

You could feel your face flushing in acknowledgement of the ridiculousness of your participation. “Yes,” you said, dredging up a grin. You were happy to see him. “With any luck, and a heaping dollop of guilt, hopefully my last ever. I’m going all out.”

Something flickered behind Shouto’s eyes, a sort of glint you’d never seen before. For some reason the hair on the back of your neck raised. Maybe an alpha thing.

“With any luck,” he repeated, his voice rich, strangely deep.

You wiggled your basket of snacks at him. “What about you? Making preparations for the big day?”

Shouto’s eyes followed the basket as you dropped it back down to your side. “Yes. I was hoping to make something, for after.”

Your eyebrows shot up, a wave of helpless affection for him rising in you. “For your life mate? To take them home to?”

Shouto nodded, his scarlet and white strands falling into his eyes. He was so, so good.

You couldn’t help but reach out and pinch him, right on his rib cage. “You are too pure to be related to your family.”

Shouto blinked, eyelashes fluttering. His gaze was a little darker where it caught yours again. “I would not be so sure.”

You took a step back, slightly startled by this assertion. Another flush heated your cheeks, and you pinched him again for good measure. “Respect your elders’ opinions, brat.”

Shouto’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, catching your fingers in his before you could do too much damage. Your heart hammered to a stop in your chest, your hand suddenly burning beneath his.

“Let me make you something,” he said, his tone dipping low again.

A surprised breath escaped you. “Like lunch? For tomorrow?”

Shouto watched you for a long moment before answering. “That, as well.”

“Oh, then you meant like, for dinner tonight?” You frowned, wracking your brain for his meaning, and coming up short.

That wry little smile played about Shouto’s mouth again. “Yes, dinner tonight, too.”

You squinted at him, unclear what he was trying to do here. “Touya says you’re a shit cook and that’s why you come eat all Rei’s cooking.”

Shouto’s face went pointedly blank. “I am passable.”

“I’ve heard conflicting reports.”

“Then perhaps you can help me.” Shouto’s fingers curled around yours more tightly. “I will purchase, and you direct the operation.”

Your mind suddenly flickered back, catching the wisp of an afternoon years ago, bent over Shouto’s fake plastic cookware, a tiny, round-faced Shouto insisting he’d provide for you. Cooking together, you directing Shouto to cut the plastic veggies along their velcro strips while you diligently fried your plastic chicken. Your heart swelled.

“In the interest of you not food poisoning your life mate your first night together, I’m willing to show you a thing or two,” you said, peering up at him, feeling slightly giddy.

Shouto’s mouth quirked. “I will watch carefully.”

You grinned. “Alright. What are we thinking for meals then?”

It turned out Shouto already had a plan in mind—fried chicken karaage, with marinated vegetable sides, and for lunch some jam-packed wanpaku sandwiches to keep your energy up out in the preserve tomorrow. He made a second pass through the snack aisle, seeming to pull in doubles or triples of everything you’d collected in your basket so far. Then he even snuck in two pieces of chocolate cake in the bakery section, crowned with little dollops of fresh whipped cream.

Shouto dumped your entire basket into his as well, holding you off with a strong arm when you made a grab for it, and ignored your protests all the way through checkout.

“Shouto, that’s my lunch, I should pay,” you insisted, getting a little hot in the face again when he was easily able to fend you off with one arm despite your genuine efforts. God, that was—you needed to not think about that.

“I once promised to take good care of you,” Shouto said, leading the way out of the store. You followed, realizing you had no idea where he lived now.

“You were a baby. You also promised me your entire inheritance,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Plus starting tomorrow you are going to have a life mate to provide for.”

Shouto turned to look down at you, eyes dragging down your face. “I will.”

“Okay then we’re agreed,” you said, digging around in your bag for his change. Shouto’s stride lengthened, however, like he was trying to dodge you. You hurried after him, swearing like Touya, and found yourself all but chasing him towards the waterfront, suddenly freezing when Shouto turned onto one of the shop-lined streets, stopping just before a familiar little brick building.

“Shouto—you live above this?” you asked, creeping forward to look in through the window.

The shop stood empty, as it had the day you’d graduated high school, but you could see it was well-maintained, new flooring installed in a warm light wood and windows shined to crystal clarity. “I used to be obsessed with this place, this is where I thought my bookshop was going to be!” you said, unsure if you were talking to Shouto or yourself.

The soft clink of Shouto’s key paused in the door. “I know,” he said. “I remember you telling me.”

You turned back to him, smiling. “That was a million years ago and you were like, barely out of the womb.”

Shouto’s eyes pinned you with an alarming intensity, grey and blue points burning through you. “I remember everything you have ever told me.”

Your breath wooshed out of you, leaving you startlingly vulnerable. You desperately scrambled for verbal cover. “I—you are so full of it. You weren’t even speaking words yet when I met you.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked again, and he gestured you inside. You followed behind him, trying not to admire the way his broad shoulders filled up the breadth of the stairwell, the way his thighs bunched in his jeans as he took the stairs.

No. That way lay danger.

Shouto’s apartment had the same lovely blonde wood across the floors as the shop downstairs, and a huge bay window overlooking the coast where you imagined you could see the sun come up over the water in the mornings. The rest of the apartment was modern in style, though strangely minimalist, as though Shouto hadn’t filled it with very many of his own things.

“My life mate will need room,” he explained, unloading the groceries on the counter.

Your heart twisted at that, and you purposefully set about drinking in your fill of Shouto’s space before someone else filled it in for him. You admired the large, cushiony couch, chosen as if Shouto had imagined a thousand nights cuddled up on it with someone else, what appeared to be a super old but working fireplace, and the neatly arranged rows of hanging copper pots, which you could tell almost never got used.

It smelled like him, his alpha scent everywhere, like sweet campfire smoke on a cold breeze. It made you want to curl up in here and never leave.

“It’s amazing, Shouto. Your mate is going to just die over this,” you said, totally charmed.

You tried hard to ignore the little tinge of jealousy souring your gut.

Shouto’s gaze flashed up to yours, his long fingers arranging the groceries neatly on his countertops. “I would prefer if no one died,” he said solemnly.

You laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“I had hoped you would like it,” Shouto said, something pleased in his deep tone.

“I love it. You’ll have to invite me back over next time I’m in town,” you said.

Shouto’s fingers hesitated over a tomato, and a small, shy sort of smile pulled at his mouth as he peered down at it. “Perhaps even sooner.”

You blinked, mystified. You weren’t going to have time before you left for the city again, not with the run tomorrow, and definitely not if Shouto spent the traditional several days curled up here with his life mate afterwards.

“Yeah sometime,” you said vaguely, trying not to think too hard on it.

You had sort of enjoyed being Shouto’s favorite when you were kids, your time and attention prioritized even above Touya’s. But Shouto was all grown up now and it was time for him to have a new favorite—you probably hadn’t been his since you’d graduated and disappeared into the city to generate parental support money. It had been years.

“Anyway let’s get this stuff prepped, sous-chef Shouto,” you said, coming around the counter to his side. “I’m thinking the old plan of attack—you slice the veggies, I’ll fry the chicken?”

Shouto’s mouth pulled in a wider smile than you’d seen in a long time, a heart-stoppingly handsome flash of white. You gripped the counter carefully.

“I’d like that,” he said.

He set himself up with a knife and a cutting board, and set you up with a few small bowls for breading, flour, and egg. You noticed he sliced his vegetables a little more dexterously than the velcro veggies of years past—though certainly not expertly. The two of you worked in easy tandem as you whisked the egg, then laid all your chicken pieces out as you waited for the pot on the stove to warm.

The peace was only broken when Shouto suddenly leaned over you, bringing with him a puff of that delicious campfire scent. Your breath reflexively seized in your lungs as you froze, hyperaware of him as his hand went to the side of your hip. He gently pulled you out of range of one of his drawers, moving you like you were an expected piece of his kitchen—like his life mate he was long-used to dancing around, pressing close enough that you could feel the heat of him.

Something like electricity spiked across all of your nerve endings. You tried not to shiver with the feeling of Shouto’s soft exhale over your shoulder, the heavy weight of his hand on your hip as he slid open one of his drawers.

It took you a few moments to recover enough that you realized he’d been pulling out plastic wrap. He hadn’t been curled over your back just for the intimacy of it—god, you were such a fucking creep.

You peeled yourself out of Shouto’s hands and beat a hasty retreat to his fridge, scrounging around for the ingredients you’d need to make the vegetable seasonings. The warm kabocha and fried chicken were going to make perfect leftovers for Shouto and his mate to scarf down after a windy run along the coast tomorrow.

Maybe you’d try to make something similar when you made it back to your mom’s tomorrow. Although, come to think of it, you didn’t really want to be reminded of Shouto stuffed up back here with someone else.

A frown pulled at your mouth, and you pinched your thigh, gathering yourself back together. What Shouto did with his own life mate was none of your business. You needed to remember that.

When Shouto finished cutting up the vegetables you helped him arrange everything into two enormous sandwiches, then covered in plastic wrap and stowed in his fridge to set. He watched you carefully as you fried the chicken, hovering closely behind you like a tall, handsome shadow. You fought against some strange impulse to lean back against his chest, watching the chicken burble in the oil with an intense focus. Shouto didn’t seem to mind the sudden quiet, smiling a small half-smile when you turned back to him.

When it seemed ready, you fished the chicken out, setting it on paper towels to absorb the excess. Shouto followed you, taking hold of your face as you turned back to him.

You froze for the second time, pulse racing, as his fingers came up to brush along your cheek, just under your eye. The touch was gentle but firm, and his gaze swept over you assessingly. He seemed to linger for a long moment—until he came away with flour across his thumb.

A weird sense of disappointment twisted your gut as Shouto looked it over. How embarrassing.

“Oh, thanks,” you managed to say, swiping at your face yourself.

Shouto’s mouth quirked softly. “As I said, I did once promise to take care of you.”

Your face went warmer, and you deliberately did not think about how much you liked that. The only person taking care of you was you, and it was going to have to be that way for the foreseeable future. Flour was only flour.

“Again, you were a baby. You needed taking care of more than me,” you accused.

Shouto shifted closer, an intent look settling over his features. “I am not a child any longer.”

That much was upsettingly clear these days. But that was beside the point.

“Neither of us are,” you agreed. “And I assure you, other than the occasional flour mishap, I am excellent at taking care of myself now. You on the other hand, with all these unused pots…”

Shouto’s eyes lingered on your face. To your horror he absently brought his thumb to his mouth, tongue barely flicking out to lick the flour—and that ended the discussion immediately.

Your face immediately flamed, overcome with shit you absolutely should not be thinking, and you shooed him away to fetch plates. Shouto let himself be shooed, looking contemplative.

When he returned with plates, you busied yourself serving up two large portions of rice, followed by crispy golden fried chicken, cucumber salad, and soft, steaming kabocha. It all looked excellent, if you did say so yourself, practically Michelin-starred compared to the plastic meal you’d made together all those years ago.

Shouto led you over to the coffee table and you both took positions on the floor, your back against his couch.

“This reminds me so much of when we were little,” you said, grinning. “Except the couch is mercifully devoid of any complaining.”

The indent at the side of Shouto’s mouth deepened. “I prefer the lack of Touya as well.”

You laughed, biting into your chicken, pleased when it tasted as good as it looked. Hopefully Shouto’s life mate was going to love it. Shouto looked like he liked it too, his long eyelashes fluttering over the tops of his cheekbones as he chewed. Your stomach flipped.

“So how was work?” you asked Shouto, flipping the script on him from when he was younger.

An electric blue eye cut sideways towards you, like he remembered too.

“Very busy and tiring,” he repeated, almost an exact parroting of your words, if you remembered correctly. “I could not wait to come home.”

“You really do remember a lot,” you said, impressed.

Shouto took a mouthful of squash, chewing neatly. Was it normal to look that pretty when eating?

“As I said,” he said, something slightly smug in his voice.

You rolled your eyes—Todorokis—and took your own mouthful of food, chewing thoughtfully.

“You’re so similar and yet so different,” you informed him when you’d finished. “I’m sad I missed you graduating school, and the academy. You’ve really grown up into an amazing person, Sho.”

Shouto’s chopsticks wavered over his plate, and a pink flush stained his cheeks.

“I had always wanted you to think so, when we were younger,” he said slowly, eyes fixed on his plate.

You smiled. “You were so cute. I was always going to think so. Even when I thought you were going to grow up an omega and had no idea what career you might have wanted. You were just good, I think.”

The tip of Shouto’s ear went red, almost matching the left side of his hair.

You couldn’t help but continue, warmed by how much the praise clearly meant to him. “Touya was my best friend but I liked spending the time with you, even though you were that much younger. I am sorry I haven’t been able to stick around and spend more of it with you.”

Shouto took a deliberate bite of rice, like he was calming himself.

“Your job in the city,” he said, when he finished. “Do you like it?”

You shook your head, snorting. “It’s fine. If I had a say I’d be running that storefront just below us, but my job is at least guaranteed money for mom. I don’t mind, though I do regret not coming back here enough.”

Shouto seemed to take a moment to think on this. “But you would quit it, if you could,” he said.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think so. But like I said, it’s not so bad. And it’s pretty good money for a single income if I do say so myself.”

Shouto turned to watch you. “It would be easier if you had your life mate,” he said.

You paused, considering the weight of this statement. “Well yeah. But as you know, not everyone finds theirs. And as a beta I’m sort of stuck waiting for my life mate to find me—I’ve sometimes wondered if any of those alphas I hid up a tree from were actually it, all those years ago. But something tells me no. So I’m doing my own thing in the meantime.”

“Do you hope to find your life mate, this time?” Shouto asked, pinning you with an intense look. He’d abandoned his food it seemed, watching you with singular focus. It was slightly unnerving.

You wondered how best to answer without making him pity you.

“I’ve always hoped, but I’ve never counted on it,” you said. “But one thing is for certain—I wouldn’t accept just anyone. I’m not going to end up like my parents did.”

Shouto’s fingers shifted on the table top, and he seemed to be holding them out to you. You carefully placed your hand in his, gratified when his hand closed over yours, thumb smoothing your skin.

“You are not,” Shouto said, sounding sure. “You will have a life mate who has cared for you and will care for you his whole life.”

He sounded like he meant it. He was so sweet all these years later.

You flushed, embarrassed by his declaration. “Okay. I’ll—trust you on that.”

Shouto looked satisfied, letting your hand go so you could return to your food. You both scarfed down the rest of your meals, like the two of you were storing up enough energy for tomorrow, and then Shouto pressed a slice of chocolate cake on you, too, insistent.

He watched you eat it with the supervisory focus of a mother—or an alpha with his omega, a thought that you immediately put back out of mind.

You let him feed you too much, happy for the extra time in his company, laughing and chatting and reliving shared memories. You insisted on helping him with the dishes, too, washing everything as he packed up the leftovers, and then sorted out your prepared sandwich and the snacks he’d purchased for you. He didn’t let you out of his sight even as he did so, moving in front of you to block your access to your bag when you remembered you owed him money.

Shouto kept hold of it on the way to the door, too, so you couldn’t dig out cash and fling it before running out—he really did know too much about you after all these years.

Once he surrendered your bag to you, he leaned forward, fingers finding the side of your face again, cupping it and turning it up to his.

You went perfectly, embarrassingly still in his hold, breath coming short. His thumb smoothed across your cheek, and a private little smile pulled at his mouth.

“I will see you tomorrow,” he promised, his tone rich and dark, like the chocolate cake you’d just had.

You barely resisted a shiver, having to manually kickstart your lungs again, breathing in and out deliberately.

“Only if your life mate goes so far,” you said. “I hope for your sake they keep things easy.”

Shouto’s smile widened a bit. “They will not.”

You tried not to be too irritated at whoever it was. Only an idiot would make it so hard for an alpha like Todoroki Shouto.

“Well then, good luck,” you told him. “I’ll be on the lookout for you from my tree. And I’ll have snacks if you need them.” You rattled your bag.

Shouto’s eyes roved over your face, something warm in his gaze. “You will see me,” he said. “Though I do not plan to need any luck.”

Okay that was—he was not allowed to be that confident. That damn omega had no idea how lucky they were.

It took everything you had to wrench yourself away from him, only the knowledge that he was meant for someone else carrying you away. You made yourself salute him, smiling. Then you bid him good night, promising to text him when you got in, and scurried off to your mother’s house, trying to put yourself on the right track again.

You scolded yourself as you readied for bed, dropping a kiss on your mother’s head as you passed her asleep on the couch. You would not be a weenie about this. You were, at least, glad that Shouto was going to find his happiness tomorrow.

Even if you envied them even more tonight after seeing the life Shouto had built for them to share. Even if you wished, despite all odds, that you could find a life mate to share yours, too.

[gladiatorcunt]

summary: feyd rautha x emperor’s afab oldest child!reader

cw: feet stuff, piss kink, implied eventual knifeplay/blood play, cannabalism, arranged marriage, feyd being so weird but reader lowkey loves it, facesitting but the kind where feyd would beg you to break his neck, spanking/mild painplay, very likely ooc feyd since i haven’t seen part 2 yet, use of “princes” and “wife”, wedding hunt and black cum hcs taken from @valeskafics , reader doesn’t really know what’s going on but they’re vibing

wc: 1.4k

block & move on if uncomfortable !!

do not repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

Collapsing in relief has never been more appealing. You finally have a moment of respite after vigorous and exhausting wedding festivities, and you need to collect yourself. This marriage to the Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was only brought to your attention a week before it would take place.

Surprisingly, you didn’t really mind the man himself. It was just so sudden, is all. During any visits with his family, you had to be mindful of how you reacted to his cocky displays of ruthlessness and violence. Your father would have your head if he saw how tight you squeezed your thighs together or how much you panicked at the thought of leaving a puddle on your throne. Feyd always marked his departure with a cliche kiss to the back of your hand and a hissed promise that you couldn’t make out.

He would protect you at the very least if he didn’t love you. You’re not even sure that you love him, but this shameful crush could grow into something untamable if you lose your footing. Something… unbecoming of a member of the royal family. You wonder if it already has.

The wedding was as grand as could be, glittering decorations and finery followed by archaic rituals to please your in-laws. The Wedding Hunt in particular sent your heartbeat into overdrive, but the satisfaction on your betrothed’s face when he caught his “prize” was intoxicating. Feyd Rautha kisses like he kills, you were quick to discover, fiercely and uncaring of any blood that might be shed.

You’re brought out of your reminiscing by your now husband closing the door to your room behind him. You only have another day with your family before you’re to leave for Giedi Prime. There has hardly been time to get to know the man you will lie beside for the rest of your life, until now.

“Wife.” He bluntly greets you, awkwardly nodding his head in an effort to maintain his “tough” image. You won’t tease him about the barest hint of blush on his cheekbones, but you treasure it nonetheless.

You humor him, “Husband.” Your nod mirrors his and you take a seat at the long table in the middle of the room after Feyd pulls a chair out for you.

This was the next part of the ritual, where the newly married couple must eat a meal that one partner made for the other. It sounds simple enough that you don’t think anything of it.

Feyd makes a gesture and your food is placed before you by one of your family’s servants. They look a bit queasy and green in the face but they’re gone before you can ask if they’re alright.

“I hope you like it, princess.” Feyd says with a barely there smirk, pointing to the… pie in front of you. “I cut down many people for it.”

You raise an eyebrow at that but bring your knife to take a slice of the pie anyway. Upon lifting the piece onto your plate, you notice eyeballs, flesh, tongues, and some sort of black liquid running throughout the filling. You freeze in place, not even meeting your husband’s eyes. One blue eye seems to twitch and the black substance makes a sick sound as you move it around with your fork.

“The other men who your father considered, my concubines….. I actually can’t tell you which of them are in that slice, but they are all there.” He whispers in your ear, having gotten up from his position opposite you to feed you himself.

You respect the ritual despite your urge to throw up, so you swallow what he gives you. He grins, swiping a thumb down to your throat to feel the food travel. He squeezes your cheeks when you’re done, and you open your mouth to show him that you ate it all.

“That’s my princess.” He condescendingly croons, bending down to run his tongue all over your face before standing up and pushing you to lie flat on the cold table. “But I'm afraid that it’s time for me to have my meal.”

Your elaborate wedding gown is slashed to shreds, the cool tip of his blade moving down your flesh until it reaches your lace covered mound. He taps the hilt of his weapon on your hood and unceremoniously tosses it on the floor.

You didn’t expect the reveal of your wedding night attire to be under such unorthodox circumstances, but can you say you expected any of this?

“A worthy bride with a body to match, thank you for this gift, your highness”. He says in a half joking manner, grinning with too many teeth as he runs his hands along the delicate material. He toys with the idea of cutting this little number to pieces too, but your holes are left conveniently exposed. Maybe he’s fallen too in love with it, he’s been in love with you since you met years ago anyway.

The lingerie is a custom designed piece littered with straps and sheer fabric that leave nothing to the imagination. Your tits are accentuated by a seashell-like pattern bra and there’s even a little black bow above your pussy. The frilly strips of material wrapped around your thighs do nothing to keep your curves contained and the tiny tulle skirt frames your ass beautifully.

Your husband drinks in the sight of you before pulling your ankles to rest on his shoulders. You watch in arousal and shock as he broadly licks the sole of your right foot. He groans unabashedly, nuzzling at your heel and then dipping his tongue in the spaces between your toes. You wiggle at the ticklish feeling but you don’t kick him away.

He really gets into it when he starts sucking your toes, bobbing his head and making sure you’re watching as curls his tongue around each one. His eyes roll back in pleasure once he reaches the last toe on your other foot, and drool trickles down your leg when he’s done getting acquainted with the taste of it. He presses a kiss to the top of each toe but then the weird softness is ruined by the bite he adorns your ankle with.

Feyd’s mouth makes a slick popping sound as he pulls away from your feet. You’re at a loss for words when he proceeds to lie down on the table beside you. He gropes your breast quickly and leans over to give you a surprisingly chaste peck. The look on his face is a smug one but his eyes say something unknown to you, soft and obsessive all at once. It’s as if he knows something you don’t.

“Now sit on my face, claim your new throne, princess.”

You don’t know how long he keeps you hostage there, your cunt soaking him as he devours you to the bone. He doesn’t let you become too relaxed, nipping your clit as he sees fit and clawing the skin of your ass. Eventually your gut aches and though at first you think you’re about to cum already, the second heartbeat in your clit feels different. You come to a horrifying realization that you need to relieve yourself.

“H-husband, what the fuck- I… I need to pee.” You’d rather be dead than doing what you are and saying what you are, but nature calls.

“Yes, that’s it.” He growls and digs his nails into your ass, jigging the globes in his hands before sharply slapping them. “Piss all over my face, get me wet with it like a good wife.”

The shriek you let out when you do just that is abhorrent. Your legs shake as you spray hot pee on your husband’s skin, the gold mixing with the white of your simultaneous orgasm as it drips down his body. You try to move off of Feyd but he tightens his grip on your ass and yanks you back down. The sensation of a hungry mouth desperately sucking the fluids from you drives you wild.

“You have…… fuck- y-you have to stop, hah- i’m going to break.” You sob.

He chuckles into your piss covered pussy and then pulls away to speak, “Then break, a wife of House Harkonnen doesn’t need to be put together.”

You think you hear him say something about using his blade on your body later, but that might just be your own perverted idea.

[nnight-dances]

LOVE & OTHER CLICHÉS

PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (ft. kim mingyu)

GENRE: fluff, angst, suggestive content

TROPES: brother's best friend, slow burn question mark, skirting around communication because that's a good plot point, jealousy as requested, banter, teasing, arbitrary social norms about words like "cute" and "sweet" pls don't listen to a word i say ever, etc.

WORD COUNT: 12k (for some reason)

The first time you re-meet Jeon Wonwoo, your brother Joshua's best friend, you think a lot of things. He does, too. It's really interesting how neither of you say exactly what you think.

"Y/N! Is that really you?" 

If you hadn't been on the phone with Karina when you heard Wonwoo's voice, you think you might've genuinely passed away because his voice is something of nostalgic value to you, something distant and definitely not in the same living room as you. You look up and your eyes widen when you find the man gaping at you. "-Oh, hi–" you shoot up from your seat on the couch and then quickly remember your friend still on the line. You tell her, "Sorry, Rina, mind if I call you back later? Okay, thanks, love you. Night." 

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at you like you'd said something amusing and it's turn to take him in as you drop your phone onto the couch. "Wonwoo, god, you're alive?" you start with a small smile and continue, "Wow, um, you look… the same." What you mean to say is: How did you get even taller, you attractive bastard?

Wonwoo offers you one of his smug smiles at that and replies, "Thanks? I think. You look much more… grown up, you know." He really should've said: Holy shit, you're pretty. And then he opens his arms, "Bring it in, kid. Let's see if I can still get away with tackling you to the ground."

You scoff even as you step closer to him, ignoring the way his arms are a lot bigger than they once used to be when you tell him, "I think you're remembering it wrong, dude. I was the one tackling you."

 It's no use, though, because when he wraps his arms around you, you sigh contentedly because this right here? This is a hug. Wonwoo's so warm around you and you can only pretend that the way you feel his hard muscles tense around you doesn't send chills up your spine. Wonwoo's smiling wide, only barely controlling a comment about how good you smell and how you might've grown taller but somehow still manage to fit just the same in his arms.

All in all, it's a pretty sweet reunion. You haven't seen each other in over five years so the curiosity and surprise is barely uncalled for. You only wished you could've held onto the hug longer before Joshua entered the room with a disgusted grimace on his face.

"Gross. Can you guys not do that?" 

You're the first to pull away with a flustered sigh at Joshua's comment, rolling your eyes. Wonwoo tries to cover up the way he's slightly out of breath by countering, "Why? You can't handle us interacting like two normal humans? Want us to claw at each other's eyeballs like the good old times?"

–

"I don't get it, though," Wonwoo tells you, a slice of donkatsu hovering near his mouth, "Why didn't you just move in with Shua?"

"That's what I've been asking her! Haven't I been a good enough brother to you? What did I do wrong? Huh?" 

You'd already seen Joshua's reaction coming, sipping the beer from your glass to brace yourself. "And as I've politely reminded you many times, big brother, it's not personal. I just thinking that would be the equivalent of moving back in with my parents. Plus, I can afford to live alone now, remember? The promotion that came with the reallocation?"

Joshua flashes you the unconvinced glare he always does when you reason with him. But you train your eyes on Wonwoo instead, determined to get him on your side at least. "It would be waste to just live with him and not do the independent thing. Plus, I literally live across from you, man, so I might as well be moving in with you."

Wonwoo nods quietly as he washes his bite down with some beer, "Hmm. That's fair enough. I don't know why Shua's been whining about it then."

You break into a pleased laugh at that where your brothers gasps in offense. "Hey, Jeon Wonwoo, whose side are you supposed to be on here?"

Wonwoo shrugs, "I'm on the side of logic, my man, I'm sorry."

"God, don't let her fool you. She says all this reasonable stuff but–"

"Oh, so you agree that it's reasonable then?" you question him with a raised brow but he ignores you as he spews his nonsense. 

"-- But the real reason she wants to live alone is so she can get laid."

You hit Joshua real hard in the arm at that, "Ew, dude, don't be a pervert." 

Wonwoo looks postively entertained between the two of you as he provokes you, "What does he mean?"

"Fuck if I know. I don't know what gave this guy the idea that I like to sleep around, if anything, he's the player."

Joshua narrows his eyes at you, "Uh-huh, me, the guy who was in a long-term relationship of nearly five years?"

"Emphasis on was in a relationship. How many people have you slept with since then? I don't want to know. I'm just making a point."

Wonwoo chuckles, "She's right, man. You're not exactly on the higher ground here."

"Okay, okay, but I did overhear you telling your friend that, quote, living with my brother would be the greatest clockbock there is, end quote."

Your jaw falls open when you hear him recount your words to Karina only a few hours ago. "You're eavesdropping on my calls? Wow, see, this is why I don't want to live with you."

"You weren't exactly very quiet! And you were sitting in the living room, too!"

"Whatever," you roll your eyes and then catch the questioning look Wonwoo sends your brother and you take matters in your own hands. "Fine, I said that because I mean, yeah, it's not like the hottest thing to be living with your brother, okay? Like what if I meet a cute guy and lose him to the fact that Shua's the biggest prude to exist?"

"Man, you just made a player, and now I'm a prude? Choose a story, goddamn it!" 

You shrug with a grin, "People can be two things, bro."

– 

"So, you all moved in yet?" Wonwoo asks you and you try to ignore how silly he looks with the edges of his glasses fogged up against the heat of the coffee in his hands. Last week, he'd texted you asking if you'd like to get coffee and catch up. You'd replied with a goofy grin playing on your lips at 1 AM with a: sure :))) if u pay!

You hum as you stir your own latte, "I think so. But everytime I think it's all done, there's always something small I forgot. Like, this morning I realized I don't have wine glasses."

He chortles, "Ah, I know what you mean. Something small but inconvenient. Like a good night lamp."

"Ugh, I need one of those, too. I brought my old one with me but ended up leaving it in the study because I didn't have one there." You sigh as you slump in your seat, "God, I hate moving. I'll have age twenty years by the time I'm fully done."

Wonwoo watches you with a bemused smile. "I can help you with shopping, if you'd like."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like I moved in recently but I still remember some good places for this stuff. And it might be less tiresome if you have some company." 

Your replying smile is so genuine that it's got Wonwoo smiling and he thinks he's helping you out more for himself than Joshua. It's an unsettling thought for a moment but then your voice pipes back up with an anecdote from your work and he can't care for the thoughts. 

"...So, you have any luck finding cute guys to bring home?"

The question catches you off-guard and your grip on the wine glass you were inspecting loosens dangerously, but you hold onto it before it can break like your pretense of sanity. 

"God," you groan as you look at a chuckling Wonwoo who's standing next to you, arms crossed in that infuriatingly attractive way. "I was slightly drunk when I said that, so it would be nice if you forgot about it."

"Why? I mean, it's understandable you'd want to get into the dating pool here. It's one way to get to know a new city."

You turn all your attention to a different glass. "I guess. But I haven't had too much luck, no. Maybe waiting around to find love organically is my problem."

Wonwoo doesn't immediately respond to that, making you uneasy and sending heat to your ears. Whatever. You'd just have to scream into your pillow and cry yourself to sleep so you could forget this embarrassment. 

"Hmm, I don't know. It'll just take more time that way, I suppose. If you're willing to wait."

It's your turn to go mute except this time the silence is comfortable, only broken by a comment here and there about the glasses. 

"What about you?" you ask Wonwoo at checkout, watching the worker wrap up your chosen set of glasses in bubble wrap. "Are you… with someone?"

Wonwoo's lips twitch with a small smile at your question. "Not at the moment. I like the space of being single." You nod in understanding. 

"And I haven't really met anyone worth spending my time with," he says, eyes floating to you as he pushes his glasses up with a finger. 

You pause at his words, thanking the cashier for their help and making your way to the exit. "You make it sound like dating's a chore, Wonwoo."

He shrugs with a shoulder, "It can be. With the wrong person."

– 

"So… tell me all about your hot brother's hot best friend?" 

"Ew and ew, Karina, do you want me to block you for real this time?" 

"I'm just being honest but all right, do you want to talk about your years-old crush on your brother's best–"

"That's not any better. And I don't have crush on him. Also, it would really nice if we didn't say the word crush anymore. We're both adults with jobs."

"And adults with jobs aren't allowed to have a little fun?" Karina's voice is laced with laughter and you groan in frustration. Who has she been hanging out with to make her so much worse? Not you. 

"Anyway, since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you. My older brother is okay. And so is Wonwoo. There."

A few minutes of further pestering from Karina and you finally let slip that Wonwoo and you have been hanging out here and there, sometimes over coffee that led to shopping dates (Karina's words, not yours) and other times spent over at Joshua's, drinking or playing video games on his couch. It was pretty cozy and you couldn't really complain about this new life.

"Oh, so you don't miss me then, huh? Nice to know. But also it seems like you're hitting it off with Wonwoo and before you cut me off, you did like Wonwoo for like half your childhood, remember? Maybe this could become something. Who knows?"

Oh, you remember. It was you who spent long summer afternoons staring at Wonwoo as he came over to your home after class, spending all his time arguing with Joshua about a card game they'd been playing or about which villain was cooler in the new movie they'd watched. For a while, it had been a distant thing but over time, you'd warmed up to them and started talking more to Wonwoo, now a regular participant in their arguments. 

And as it turns out, it doesn't take a lot of arguments to fall for Jeon Wonwoo.

– 

One thing about you is that you're stubborn. You like to think it's a genetic thing because the only person who could rival your firmness was none other than your brother. And this meant that when Karina tried to convince you that you still had a soft spot for Wonwoo, you tried to tell her that's all it was: a soft spot. Like a platonic affinity for someone you'd spent a lot of time with growing up.

And you reasoned it out with yourself that night, thinking back to the time you'd spent with him recently. It was familiar in the best way possible. Where meeting new people at work was absolutely exhausting, coming back home to your brother and Wonwoo was like a hug to your soul.

Speaking of hugs, your mind rolled over to the one you'd shared with Wonwoo a few weeks ago, an event that you often found yourself thinking. As sane and rational as you thought yourself to be, the way you'd find yourself unable to control a giggle in the dark every time you remembered the way you all but melted into his arms, strong but fond in their embrace around your waist. 

And when you come to your senses, you realize it's ridiculous how stuck up on that hug you are. It's stupid your smile that breaks through anyway and the way your heart beats faster when you remember the plans you'd made with Wonwoo for tomorrow, a trip to a local bookstore because he had found your collection of books lacking the day he'd come over for a visit.

You roll over in bed then, groaning a little because you're starting to think the soft spot might be… growing. 

–

"You know I really didn't think I would spend this much on books today," you mumble as you tap your card at the register. It was almost funny how many conversations you and Wonwoo have had at check-out, almost inevitable because often the shopping experience itself meant a lot of focused silence as the two of you browsed around in tandem. 

It was a weirdly heartwarming way to spend time together. Or maybe that was just you and your weakness for quality time. 

"What do you mean? We literally mutually decided that you needed a better collection." Wonwoo leans against the counter with a cocked brow.

"Well, the mutual part is up for discussion. It's more like you shamed me for keeping a modest book collection. And I mean, I wasn't so sure if I'd find anything good here."

"Really?" he asks, picking up the heavy bag from the counter before you can reach for it, "Because I remember you agreeing pretty quickly and enthusiastically to my proposition to go book-shopping."

"That was only because you made it sound like fun." And it meant that I'd get to spend more time with you. "And it was fun. So that's one thing you're right about."

Wonwoo's smile turns smug as you exit the bookstore, each with a paper bag in hand. You'd settled for carrying Wonwoo's own purchase of two new books that he'd apparently been meaning to come out and buy. 

"Anyway, now what? You wanna go to my place and break into one of these bad boys?" You shake the bag in your hand with a gleeful grin. But Wonwoo's looking at the mall across from you with mouth slightly ajar in concentration. And then he smiles, pure excitement plastered across his face when looks back at you.

"I have a much better idea." That's all he says before his unoccupied hand finds yours and tugs you after him. Admittedly, you're a little dizzy at the sudden touch and let him pull you across the road with quick steps, struggling to keep up with him. At the back of your head, you store away how attractive it is that Wonwoo's holding a good dozen books in a hand and yours in the other, racing ahead like it was the most important thing in the world. And honestly? If it was with Wonwoo, you think you feel the urgency in your veins as if it were travelling across your intertwined palms.

It's a good day to be a romantic for you, as you later find out, standing in line with Wonwoo to purchase tickets to a newly released movie. The genre? Rom-com.

"Well, it's not so much a rom-com as the poster makes it seem. That's actually a deft marketing stunt. It's actually a pretty serious movie about love and I've heard it's not for the weak."

So many questions. You have so many questions. 

For one, "I didn't know you were into romantic movies," you comment, watching Wonwoo from the corner of your eye, too afraid to look him in the eye now that your hand was no longer in his.

"It's possible to avoid romance. Everything is about love these days, even if it isn't."

You also can't believe that you're about to watch a movie with Wonwoo. It's all strangely… different. You'd never been to the movies alone with him. It's a new territory for you. But you're not mad. If anything, the smile on your lips is playful. 

"And it's not just that you're too scared to admit that you like rom-coms?"

"I'm not. Into rom-coms, I mean. The humor is straight-up bad and the romance is tolerable at best. It's like if you're going to do a x to death, you might as well do it well."

"I can't believe this," you mutter more to yourself than him, "Jeon Wonwoo watching a rom-com? This must be a dream."

"You dream about me, hmm?" 

You narrowly avoid whiplash when you turn to look at Wonwoo, his teasing only another addition to the list of things you didn't think you'd hear your brother's best friend every say to you. But the more you know, huh?

The movie itself is insane. The plot is devastating enough on its own but the way Wonwoo's shoulder pressed into yours the whole time, despite there being more than enough space between the two seats, has you more vulnerable than usual. So find yourself tearing up halfway through the movie and sit through the credits with half-contained sobs. And where Wonwoo had laughed at your tears mid-way, when he noticed your sobs, his hand found your back, rubbing it comfortingly. 

"That was horrific," you mumble when you're less overcome with sadness and pout at Wonwoo. "I hate you for making me watch that. I will never find happiness. And worse, I will never find love."

Your words, punctuated with that small pout of yours, has Wonwoo a breath away from falling to his knees with his head in hands because fuck, you're adorable. And truth be told, he was tearing up at the end, too, but he wouldn't let you know that because the way you accuse him for your state is just incredibly precious to him. 

"It was terrific," he corrects you, "And I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd get so emotional."

You glare at Wonwoo at that, as if you hadn't just been dabbing at your eyes with his pocket tissues, "Okay, Mister Emotionless, don't think I didn't catch you wiping tears away in the closing scene."

Wonwoo shoots a guilty grin and pats your head, "You're cute." 

The statement leaves you speechless enough that Wonwoo gets away with it, starting to walk away with a gaping you in his wake. You're deeply confused and slightly jittery when you finally catch up to him with a small "I wasn't trying to be" of affront under your breath. 

– 

"That's bad, right, isn't it? It's so bad. It's horrible."

"Calm down, Y/N, he called you cute, just so we're clear? Not a bunch of bad words right? So why is it bad?" 

"Because!" you cry out, "Because cute is like the most platonic adjective. I thought we were having a moment, what with a movie date and all– but if he thinks I'm cute then I was wrong. So unbelievably wrong." 

"Okay, I know what you mean but that's not always how things work. I mean, you said he held your hand and stuff, right? That's more than platonic. And it's all about the tone. Cute can be a very romantic word if in the right context."

"The context," you tell Karina with a sigh, "is that he's my brother's best friend! He couldn't make it any clearer. Wow, and I was all up in my head over him, too."

"Can we just take a moment to acknowledge how I told you that you still had feelings for Wonwoo?"

"We will do no such thing. Because the feelings are gone now!" 

"Right. I believe you, Y/N," Karina deadpans over the phone, "You can call me when you're done being an idiot. Bye."

– 

It's Karina's sarcastic tone that your thoughts catch onto the next few days, the ones you spend half in agony because Wonwoo hasn't contacted you and after your personal dilemma, you think you'd let someone shoot you before you texted him first. 

So you try your best to distract yourself with work, showing up earlier than you'd built a reputation for, and staying a little later than most. It's a new routine for you, one that leaves you pretty tired in a way that your bones are not used to. 

Maybe that's why your legs don't seem to be working that morning when you bump into someone on your way to the coffee machine. You'd been rubbing your neck, trying to feel out the knot that you'd woken up with, and had effectively lost track of where you were going and collided with a solid figure, sending a few steps back.

You sigh as you regain your balance, ever so thankful that you didn't fall flat on your butt as you look up at the person in front you. He's tall enough that you should've seen him coming so you're first to apologize. "Shit, sorry! I wasn't looking where I was going. Sorry about that!"

"No, no, I should've been more careful. I'm lucky I wasn't carrying a coffee or that could've been really bad. I'm sorry." The man's voice is hoarse and he talks over himself, as if eager to get all his thoughts before he forgets what he's saying. 

You meet his eyes with a small smile, "I guess we're both at fault, huh?" 

He reciprocates your smile with crescent eyes. "Yup. Can I get you a coffee as reparation?" 

"I mean, it's not a big deal at all."

"I insist," the man levels his gaze at you and you wonder how he looks like he could throw you across the room without breaking a sweat, but still manages to be so soft. 

"I'm Mingyu, by the way," he tells you as he hands you a cup of warm coffee. "Thanks Mingyu. I'm Y/N."

"I've seen you around. You were a new hire, right?"

You take your time with a sip of your coffee before responding, "Yes, I was originally at another branch but my leader wanted me closer to headquarters before they opened up new branches in this city. I don't know, something exposure for me and experience for them."

"You must be good if they sent you here," Mingyu points out and you brush it off with a noncomittal shrug. You find yourself pleasantly enamoured by Mingyu for the next ten minutes or so and you wonder how you'd missed him at all in the first place. But when he tells you he better get going, you nod with a smile, "Of course. It was nice meeting you, Mingyu."

Mingyu becomes the perfect distraction, as one might predict he would. He has a unique charm, what with the contrast between his intimidating physique but surprisingly shy demeanour. He's the textbook golden retriever in people and though you're not a dog person, you find yourself grow fonder of him every time you run into him near the coffee machine or while leaving work in the elevator. 

"You have a work crush?"

You groan loudly, throwing a half-eaten cracker at Joshua. "Come on, what is it with all the people I know and having the most childish vocabulary?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I not erudite enough for you? You know it may not seem like it but I am four years older than you and I have that much more–"

"Yeah, yeah, something about experience and knowledge, I've heard it before. And by the way, it's technically three years and three months, not that I'm counting."

"You very clearly are," Joshua points out with a frustrated laugh, "Anyway, you gonna make a move on this guy?"

"No, because if you were actually listening to me, you'd have heard that I like him as a friend and that I need help buying a gift for his birthday."

"Right, right," your brother mumbles in thought, "And that's next week?"

You nod as you pick your phone up, scrolling through the chat with Mingyu to reach the text he'd sent you a day ago: by the way, i'm throwing for my birthday on the 6th. love it if you came ;)

Winky emoji and slightly short notice aside, you'd replied as enthusiastically as you could muster: your birthday??? when were you going to tell me!! and: ofc i'll be there but not before i make you suffer for hiding smth so imp from me :(((

Before you can squeeze any more vaguely helpful tips from Joshua, his bell rings and you sit up with a frown as he stands up to get it. "Ah, Wonwoo's here."

"Wonwoo?" is your shocked gasp to that information, body going stiff because you'd seen him only in passing since the day of the movie. You think you might pass out. Why does nobody think it's important to tell you anything these days? 

You hear their voices in the corridor as Joshua lets Wonwoo in and your mind races with your options. Hiding in the bathroom for the night would be feasible if your brother wasn't a monster who would drag you out within thirty minutes. Maybe you climb out a window? But you were on the eight floor and as much as you liked to joke about death, you'd prefer to escape alive. 

Your brother's voice breaks you out of your scheming, alerting you they're in the living room. "Oh yeah, Y/N, here's someone with not childish vocabulary if you want to replace me." 

You look over your shoulder with a scowl but immediately lose your spirit when you lock eyes with Wonwoo, a lopsided smile greeting you. He's wearing a cozy sweater that's a shade of blue so dark that it might as well be black and you want to start crying because his hands are concealed beneath the sleeves, fists turned sweater paws as he stands there, looking between you and your brother. 

"Why are you two fighting this time?" 

"Nothing." "She has a crush at work." 

Wonwoo lets out a sigh when you both answer simultaneously but seems intrigued by Joshua's statement, eyeing him. "What did you say?"

"She has a–" 

"I'm warning you, if you say the word crush one more time, I will do something so unimaginable to your face at night–"

"She likes a guy from work."

Wonwoo looks surprised as he looks back at you inquisitively and you frown. "Untrue. It's just a guy I made friends with recently. And I only mentioned him so I could get advice but clearly, nobody here supports me so I'm going to take this conversation elsewhere."

"I support you." Wonwoo's quick response has you freezing in your dramatic exit and you turn to look at him in doubt but when his expression is clear of any mischief, you sit back down. 

"Nice to know. But I'd love it if we talked about something else for now. Like dinner." 

The night takes on a more comfortable journey from thereon, with the three of you ordering take-out and fighting it out with a card game while it was on its way. You were actually proud of yourself for acting normal around Wonwoo, despite all your past internal conflict. And you would've gone to sleep somewhat peacefully if he hadn't approached you in the kitchen, while Joshua was taking out trash, having lost the game. 

You were placing the leftovers in the fridge when Wonwoo materialized behind you, the only warning of his presence the question he asks you, "You want any help?" 

You barely hold in a surprised squeak as you spin around to him. "Goddamn it, Wonwoo, make some noise next time you sneak up on me?"

"Then I wouldn't be sneaking up on you, would I?"

You roll your eyes, closing the fridge behind you as you declare, "Well, I'm done here. Thanks for washing the dishes, by the way."

"Sure, I know how much you Hongs hate touching water. I was surprised you installed a faucet in your kitchen at all."

You give Wonwoo a push in response, "That's a very funny way to conceal the fact that you lost at rock paper scissors." 

"I just think it was an unfair way to decide tasks. I'm really bad at that game."

"Right, and assuming one can be good or bad at a game of rock paper scissors, what else would you have preferred to play?"

Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with an idea and then, he puts up a hand and wiggles it around in your face. "Arm wrestling."

Your smile falls, "No. That's just–"

"See," he points at you, "That's how I feel about rock paper scissors." 

Despite how much you claim that the two games are not at all on the same par, you let Wonwoo drag you to the kitchen table, standing across from you and arm ready for the wrestling. Slowly, you lean closer to him, hand coming to rest against his.

"Don't be too cocky," you mumble when his hand squeezes yours, already triumphant before the game had begun. The result of the game itself is pretty obvious but when you start to wrestle and feel Wonwoo's forearm tense against you, it has you light-headed. Your eyes leave the match to look at him, only to find him watching you with a glint in his eye. He smiles when you make eye-contact with him, going strangely silent for all his gloating a minute ago. You raise a brow at him and the bastard has the audacity to send a wink your way before pressing your arm against the wood of the table.

"Whatever," you tell him before his already obnoxious grin can swell any more. He opens his mouth and you're already anticipating something insulting to meet your eyes. But instead, Wonwoo says, "Your hand's so small." You look up at him only for him to take your hand in his and carefully line it against his own palm. 

You feel your cheeks burn. It's all so cliché, especially if he's flirting with you. Arm-wrestling turns into a hand-measuring contest. So trite. And yet, you find yourself smiling.

"See?" your hand wriggles, imitiating Wonwoo from earlier, "This game was rigged. Maybe if you had a handicap or something."

"Okay, I think I better leave before you take a knife and cut my hand up or something…"

– 

wonwoo: hello you

you: hi?

wonwoo: heard there's live music at the pub today. wanna come with?

you: ok creep

wonwoo: excuse me??? just informed you of a one in lifetime opportunity. shua's treating

you: WAIT he is???????

you: the one time i can't come?

wonwoo: you can't?

you: yes… have to attend a coworker's birthday party tonight. sorry :(

wonwoo: u should be sorry

wonwoo: imagine how much damage we could've done to joshua's wallet

You throw yourself into your sheets with a disappointed sigh, stomach uneasy at the thought of missing a hang-out with your favorite duo. But then you roll over to your side and think it's better if you go out with people who you didn't grow up with, for once. It might be a new experience. Just to be clear, this was Karina's voice resounding in your head. She had her way of giving you advice without you calling her for it. 

Three hours later, you're tiring yourself out at Mingyu's birthday party. It's intense, the party, bustling with people but then again, you'd be a fool to think Mingyu wouldn't have a roster full of friends to invite to a party. You meet the man of the night an hour into the party and he throws his hands around when he recognizes you. 

"Y/N, I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Of course. Happy birthday, Mingyu!" 

He leans over the bar and yells something at the bartender who eyes Mingyu and upon recognizing him as the birthday boy, places two shots in front of you. 

"Have a shot with me?" Mingyu grins, a slight layer of sweat shining on his forehead. You chuckle in defeat, "Sure, why not?" 

A shot turns into two and you're working on swallowing the third one when your phone buzzes in the back-pocket of your denim shorts. You're about to take a look at the caller ID and decline almost immediately but when you realize it's Wonwoo calling you, you pause. You excuse yourself from Mingyu's side quickly, making your way to a slightly quieter cornern of the party and answer.

"Wonwoo?" 

"Oh," comes Wonwoo's voice, a little distant, and he seems shocked as if he hadn't expected you to pick up. "Hey, Y/N. How are you?"

"Um. I'm fine, Wonwoo, just at that party I told you about. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. You're not too drunk, are you?" he asks, ironically slurring the question. 

"I should be asking you that question. Wonwoo, where's Joshua? Do you need me to come pick you up?"

"No," his voice is laced with disbelief, "I'm fine. Just a little tipsy. Sorry, you should get back to the party."

"Yeah," you reply, feeling a little uneasy as the liquid in your stomach sloshes around with each movement you make.

"Stay safe, Y/N. Call me if you need anything? I'm gonna go find Shua now."

Before you can ask him what he means by finding Joshua, Wonwoo's hung up on you, almost as quickly as he called you. Okay, so that was weird. And cool, now you're nauseous. 

– 

When Wonwoo drunk-calls you, he thinks he's officially lost you. If you didn't find him weird before, you probably thought him a lot weird now. That's great, he thinks. But the regret of his decision doesn't outweigh the need to see you right now, something about the fact that you're at some guy's birthday party making him all worked up. It should be obvious why he's like this but Wonwoo can avoid a serious thought for days if it keeps him slightly more sane than usual. 

But then the Joshua's bell rings and he opens the door, finding you standing there just like he'd imagined a few minutes ago. You're in a slouchy shirt that unbuttoned all the way to your mid-torso to reveal a black bikini top. He clears his throat to contain the thought that threatens to escape him: fuck, you look hot. 

"Shit," you exclaim when you see Wonwoo, "This isn't my place. Ugh. I'm stupid."

Wonwoo steps closer to you, "Are you okay, Y/N? Did you just get back?"

You nod silently and then take a step back from him. "Sorry, I'm just gonna go to the right place. You can sleep… or whatever."

"Wait, no," he rushes to your side, taking your elbow in his hand, "I'll help you."

You roll your eyes, "It's okay, I'm not drunk, Wonwoo. And by the looks of it, neither are you." But you don't push off the hand on you and simply let him follow you to your door, "Is Shua already asleep?"

"Hmm, he passed out. I don't know why he claims to be heavyweight when he can barely handle alcohol. I had force him to leave the pub before he made himself sick."

You listen intently, unlocking the door with a hum, "He's an idiot." You throw the door open and Wonwoo lets himself in after you. He's clearly not too sober because when you bend down to take of your shoes and your ass juts out dangerously close to his crotch, he almost falls over in an attempt to jump away to give you space. But he remains close just in case you stumble, his own shaky state be damned.

But you're unnervingly stable as you stand back up, taking your hand off the wall when you're done taking your shoes off and brushing them against yourself with a suspicious look thrown at him– unnerving because Wonwoo just wants an excuse to get his hands on you somehow. You're effortlessly magnetic, moving across the hall to your kitchen to pour yourself some water, still unebelievably stable, and Wonwoo follows you in a trance-like manner.

"You want something to drink?"

Your question hangs in complete silence and it's only when you look over at Wonwoo that he comprehends that you're asking him. He clears his throat again, "Um, I don't want to bother you if you want to go to bed." 

You raise a shoulder nonchalantly, "'M not sleepy. And you're here so we might as well hang." You disappear from his sight as you crouch down behind the counter, sliding open a shelf, "I have some shiraz I've been meaning to break open, if you're up for it?" 

"Oh, that sounds great actually," he replies and you reappear with two wine glasses in your hand. You beam at him and he feels a thrill down his spine, recognizing the set you'd bought with him. "Great. Go sit in the living room and I'll be right there." 

"No, I'll help you get the stuff."

You pause your movements toward the liquor shelf, "Come on, I thought it was clear I'm not drunk by now."

"I know," Wonwoo walks closer to you, picking up the glasses you'd set down earlier, "Just want to be here with you." 

You turn back around and Wonwoo doesn't know it's to hide the flush that colors your face at his confession. You spend a minute too long picking out the shiraz to recover and you're glad Wonwoo also doesn't know that you could pick the bottle of red out without actually looking. 

"Geez, I've got sand in my feet now," you complain as you take your first sip of the wine from your glass when you catch sight of the particles lodged in your toes. 

"Sand?" questions Wonwoo as he leans over to get a look. 

"Yeah, it was a beach-themed party," you tell him. He nods, thinking that your outfit makes a lot more sense now. "Mingyu's a silly guy for someone who's turning twenty-five."

"Mingyu, huh?" Wonwoo tries out the name, watching out for how you react. You don't give away much, simply taking another sip but your chest burns for reasons other than alcohol. 

"Hmm, yeah." 

"So do you like him? Joshua seems pretty convinced about it."

You hide your face against the couch, "Fuck Joshua. He's an idiot." 

"So you've said."

"No, but really. Mingyu's a sweet guy and all, but he's… not my type."

Now this is something Wonwoo can work with, relief flooding his veins at your honest reply. "What is your type?"

You meet Wonwoo's gaze for the first time in this conversation and groan again. In your head, you can't help but be burdened by how unbelievably cliché your situation is. Your brother's best friend sitting next to you swirling a glass of red wine, asking you about the guy you liked when it was clearly him you liked. In fact, you think your entire relationship with Wonwoo's always been full of clichés: falling for his charm as a youth and growing into the feelings long after, hanging out with him as grown-ups, going on dates that are left unlabelled, measuring hands with him for fuck's sake– It was a little too on the nose, you think. 

But you don't tell Wonwoo any of this, maybe because you're too scared to or maybe you'd liked to see the plot thicken a little. "I don't have a type." 

Wonwoo is surprisingly quick to leave the topic alone after that and you're thankful, but half-irked because you'd hoped for more. But you can't complain when he has you wrapped up in a completely different conversation, distracting enough that you can barely remember how you finished the wine in your glass. 

"Want a refill?" he asks you when the empty glasses have been sitting on the coffee table for long enough. 

"Mhm, I think I'll have some apple juice instead."

"As you wish." 

He doesn't even bother asking you where you keep your juice and takes off with the glasses to the kitchen. You watch him keenly, letting your heart lead your mind for a little as you take in how cozy the night is when you're in Wonwoo's company.

It's with that uncontrollable giddy smile on your face that Wonwoo catches you. 

"Happy about something?" he asks, placing a cup with golden liquid in front of you and keeping his glass of wine next to it. 

"Yeah. About everything. I'm happy."

Wonwoo smiles, arm reaching to your side and squeezing your hand in a way that leaves you thinking that you might actually like physical touch more than you've been led to think. "I like the sound of that."

Your smile only turns goofier. "What about you? Are you happy?" 

He huffs out a breathy laugh, "I'm not too bad myself. Things have been looking up recently."

Fucking fuck, even everything you say to each other sounds like it's been said before, somewhere else in an idealistic movie about two people slowly falling in love with each other. But you can't get yourself to hate the idea so you simply shift closer to him. 

Wonwoo notices, obviously, and smiles a little because he notices the light dusting of red on your cheeks. Your hair's come undone from what was presumably a low bun at the back of your head and he has an itch to brush the strands away from your face– a thought that if you were privy to would only be an addition the list titled reasons why wonwoo and you are a straight-up cliché.

But you find out soon anyway, because Wonwoo acts on the itch, hand coming to cup your face before a few fingers find the crown of your head, gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear. 

You hum in satisfaction and Wonwoo's heart hammers, thinking that is probably the best reaction he could've hoped for. He takes a sip of the wine in his hand and moves to rest his face on his fist. 

Except you intercept him mid-way, closing the space between you with a noise of surprise that Wonwoo lets out when he feels your warm lips against his. The shock causes the wine in his mouth to bleed into yours, just like you'd hoped, and before Wonwoo can act on your advance, you've already pulled back.

Your smile is warm with shyness when you notice the starstruck expression on Wonwoo's face. "Sorry, I wanted to taste the wine." 

Wonwoo's silent as he processes this, moving slower thanks to the wine in his sytsem and now– the feeling of your kiss on his mind. When he does break from the silence, he moves to take another sip of wine and this time it's him crossing over to you, big palm steadying your jaw so he can spill into you, literally and not. You let out a little noise this time, not expecting him to reciprocate your shameless move but delighted anyway as you move against his mouth. 

There's a third kiss. And you pull away with a dreamy sigh because really, this was straight out of your dreams. Wonwoo rests his head on his hand like he'd intended to about three kisses earlier and watches as you avert your gaze, suddenly bashful. You fix your gaze on the coffee table, proud that you'd finally chosen to place it opposite the couch instead of near the bookshelf. 

"I haven't dated anyone for a while, you know," Wonwoo suddenly blurts out, your hair once again in your face when you turn to face him. "I was in a pretty… fucked-up relationship after high school and that made me give up on love altogether."

You listen attentively, eyes on his as he tells about the person he was with, voice dropping to a soft octave. When he finishes you find his hands with a smile, "Thank you for telling me that. And I'm sorry. You deserve so much better than that. You're a pretty solid guy."

"Really?" Wonwoo's mood turns light again at your comment and you try to maintain your composure, reminding yourself that his smile might be casual but your words still hold weight. 

"Yeah, you're a rare find, Wonwoo. Quiet but not boring, witty yet funny, tall but nice to hug." 

You bite your lip at that last part, clearly giving yourself away. But Wonwoo's eyes light up anyway, "Nice to hug, huh? That's a new compliment. Glad to know." 

You can feel him lean closer to you without looking because his voice is closer to your ears. Flustered, you reach for your abandoned apple juice and take a sip, but overestimate your own sobriety because you manage to spill a third of it on yourself. "Fuck," you curse under your breath and throw your head back against the couch in frustration over yourself. 

"Fuck," Wonwoo echoes you, shifting beside you, "You okay? Wait here, I'll get you a towel." He's already standing up by the time you have it in you to find your footing. You stop him with a slightly damp hand on his arm.

"It's okay, I'll just go throw this in the laundry. Needed to change anyway." 

Wonwoo nods as he makes way so you can pad lightly to your room, ears adorably red. He lets out a heavy breath when you close the door behind you though, placing a hand against chest because the sight of your half-exposed chest slightly wet with juice– well, it was doing more things to him that he'd like. Your low expletive followed by your limp body hadn't helped his wild imagination either, instantly wondering what it might be like to run his hands through– 

"All right, that's it. I need some fresh air." Fresh air so he could feel less like a pervert and more like… normal. And it helps to step out onto your balcony, the scenery of the moonlit night a pleasant surprise to his senses. He hums happily, almost forgetting about his preoccupied thoughts entirely.

And then he hears your voice resound in the living room faintly. He calls out your name, telling you to come out to the balcony, and a minute later, you step out, now clad in a cozy night set, matching blue shirt with shorts. "Hey," you mumble as you join him near the railing, body visibly relaxing in the night air. "Woah, it's nice here."

"It is, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, this is actually my first time coming out here since I moved in. I always figured this place would be full of spider webs and like bird shit." 

Wonwoo chuckles, "I mean we're probably standing on something that's not supposed to be here but it's for us to worry about tomorrow." 

– 

When you wake up the next morning, it takes you a good amount of groaning and screaming to figure out if last night was real. Taking shots with Mingyu at his birthday bash? Understandable. Receiving a call from a self-proclaimed tipsy Wonwoo? Confusing but not impossible. Inviting Wonwoo over for wine and ending up making out with him? Insane. 

What's worse, you couldn't really remember how the night had ended, a consequence of your inebriated self combining with sleep deprivation. But that was a pretty important thing to remember, wasn't it? It could be difference between a regretful farewell and a promising one. You don't know which one would ease the storm in your stomach faster. 

You roll over to unlock your phone and sit up when you see you have two unread texts. And then, you see they're both from Mingyu. 

mingyu: thanks for coming last night :D

mingyu: sorry i couldn't see u out. hope you made it home safe! 

You sigh in barely contained disappointment as you throw your phone back into the sheets, looking up at the ceiling. You suppose you ought to do something about the Mingyu situation soon but right now, you find the idea of suffocating in your bedsheets for the next two hours much more comforting. 

– 

See now, this right here is your problem. As much as you complained about hating being a cliché, you kind of wish your situation with Wonwoo was more of a cliché because right now doesn't exactly feel like something out of a film.

It feels like hard cold reality. And it's not the first time either.

1: things will happen between you and Wonwoo: he holds your hand, he kisses your lips.

2: he doesn't text you about it and you're too much of a coward to force him out of his shell.

3: things end up all in the air. And now, you're miserable.

But later that evening, you find out there's more to this list of not-so-cliché things that happen between you and Wonwoo.

4: you run into Wonwoo at your brother's place.

He's so casual, too, dressed in a plaid shirt and lounging on Joshua's couch, gaming his time away. You almost immediately regretting making an impromptu trip to your brother's place but it's too late to back out because Joshua's already set the dinner table for three. How you despise your extroverted, loving brother. 

"Did you make that deadline you were complaining about yesterday?" Joshua asks you over a spoonful of his soup. You nod, "Yeah, turns out it was easier when I stopped whining about it."

Wonwoo lets out a laugh, earning him a look from you which you quickly retract, going back to your quiet self when the two engage in conversation. You're glad to ignore but they find it less than easy to, given how unusual your disengagement is. Wonwoo does have an idea for your mood but he doesn't feel like discussing it with your brother just yet. 

So when Joshua asks him, "Do you know what's up with her?" when you excuse yourself to the bathroom, Wonwoo stiffens. Why was he asking Wonwoo? … Had he been obvious?

"Dunno. Maybe work's busy or something."

"You think I should go pester her with some ice-cream later tonight?" 

 "Best if you don't do that. She might disown you."

"That's like legally impossible, Wonwoo. Right?" 

When you take an unexpectedly long time in the bathroom, Joshua goes on. "Did something happen between you two?"

Again, Wonwoo tenses up. "...No. Why do you ask?"

"I mean, she seemed fine yesterday when she came over. So I don't think I'm the problem here. Not that I'm accusing you of anything. Just… I know y'all have been bonding recently."

Wonwoo averts his gaze, deeply uncomfortable with this chat. "Um, yeah, I guess."

"Listen, man, I don't mean to take on the older brother tone in this conversation or anything but…" Joshua sighs as he plays with a leftover piece of bread, "You know I'm okay if something does happen with you and her, right? I trust you. And well, she was an adult long before me so I hardly have a say there."

Wonwoo stares at his half-empty glass of water, frowning. "Okay, cool." His answer is curt because he's still caught off-guard by this conversation. He'd wanted to bring up the developments between you himself, in his own way, but this left him a little panicked. Like, he was being rushed to make a move. And his brain ended up shutting down in the process.

…but it really wasn't the best time for his malfunction, given that you'd managed to overhear a good half of that conversation, specifically on the Joshua asking Wonwoo about you and him being indifferent about it. What was he thinking? What were you thinking?

5: you storm out of dinner without an explanation. you pretend you don't hear wonwoo call after you when you do. his texts that night go unanswered. 

How's that for a cliché, huh?

– 

These days, you're trying find the joy in small things. Like waking up to your very first alarm for the morning. Or brewing an especially aromatic coffee at home. 

Like making it to the end of a phone-call with Karina without talking about Wonwoo. 

"Oh, wait, before I forget to ask, how did it go with Wonwoo?"

Almost. 

You take a deep breath to steady yourself, "Not too well. I mean, we kissed. But then, he didn't text me for like three days after. Then I run into him at Joshua's and he acts all… cold. And judging by that one conversation I overheard, he thinks everything that happened between us was a mistake." 

"Okay, okay, hold your horses, friend, I feel like a lot happened there. You kissed? Why is this the first I'm hearing of it?!" Karina sounds genuinely upset and you let out a groan.

"Well, I was trying to stop bringing up Wonwoo every time we catch up. It's annoying and I want to hear more about your life than complain about mine."

"We can both complain about our lives, Y/N. I have all the time in the world. At least till six. Anyway, that's besides the point! You kissed but he ghosted you afterward? And did he actually say he thought it was all a mistake?"

You bite your lip in rumination and then admit, "He didn't actually say that but it was implied. You would agree if you'd heard the same conversation as I!"

As it turns out, Karina doesn't seem to approve of the conclusion you've come to all on your own. But then you point out that it's been over a week and it's been radio silence. So you have every right to feel as hurt as you do. 

"I suppose you do. But still, it wouldn't hurt to approach him first." 

"I would rather die."

"Okay, well, maybe find out how he's doing from Joshua?"

"Will not."

"You're being difficult right now, Y/N. What do you want to do then?"

"I want to move on and not think about Wonwoo. Maybe I should go on a blind date or something."

"We're not in a movie right now, man, plus, I'm pretty sure you were the one who swore your life to finding love organically and whatnot."

"...Gah, I was hoping you'd forgotten about that. Fine, I'll do… something." 

Your words are nothing if not misleading because by something, you don't mean to communicate with Wonwoo like a sane person might. Instead you check up on Mingyu, who you've still been succesfully making small talk at work with, and ask him if he wanted to get dinner. The enthusiasm with which he responds is comforting, a relieving contrast from the tension in your relationship with you-know-who. 

mingyu: omg i woud love to

mingyu: but im unfortuntely busy tonight :((((

mingyu: would you be down for tomorrow? i can make some killer spaghetti if given the opportunity

you: make???? i was thinking of buying the food… but i won't turn that offer down

mingyu: i'm a man of many talents ;) 

You work out the details of the date (neither of you call it that, but it's understood to be one) over the night and you feel a little uneasy as the afternoon of the day comes to a close. Either way, you find a comfortable dress that is flattering against your skin and welcome Mingyu into your place, letting his excitement work its contagious magic. 

If you're following the plot line of this story closely, you'd figure out that the next cliché is this: Wonwoo behind the door across from your home, just now learning about this date of yours with Mingyu. 

He's broken his pledge to himself and asked Joshua about you, after having missed seeing you there for the past week. Joshua had hesitated to respond but is honest anyway, muttering, "I think she has a date over."

"A date?" is Wonwoo instantaneous question, barely-concealed dread underlying in its tone. 

"Yeah, remember that guy from work whose birthday she attended?" Joshua pretends to have forgotten his name but his best friend is quick to chime in, "Mingyu?"

But you'd told him he was just a friend. You'd called him sweet for fuck's sake, and that was the most platonic adjective you could use for a potential love interest. Well, he's been proven wrong by your date tonight.

He looks down at his clasped palms, the same ones that were intertwined with your skin, first the skin of your hands, then your cheek when he'd leaned into kiss you. And if he hadn't spent the last four days regretting every minute he didn't call you up, he sure did want to punch a hole in the fabric of time right about now. 

"You okay there, buddy?" 

Joshua's concern brings Wonwoo back to his body and he looks up, lips pursed and your brother thinks how ridiculous it is that both of you won't just talk it out. But he keeps that judgement to himself, choosing to sit back and watch his best friend pace it out. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Fine. Really fine. I'm okay." He clears his throat, the first tell. "I'm just… um, a little hot. It's hot in here, huh." 

Joshua tames his bemused smile. "Is it? I just turned up the air-con though?"

"Oh, well, it's just me then. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yeah, um, I love this video game."

"Wonwoo, we were in the middle of choosing a card game to play."

"Fuck. Okay, sorry, just give me a minute, I need to go call… my mother."

"No worries, my guy, give Mrs. Jeon my greetings!" 

Across the hall, you're busy watching over Mingyu as he makes his way around your kitchen. You say watching over because really, the man is so clumsy in his own feet, you wonder how he's lived this long. You have to make sure he doesn't cut a limb off every two seconds.

But then your phone buzzes urgently in your pocket and you pull it out, the light smile playing on your face falling when Wonwoo's name pops up on your screen. Now he texts you?

wonwoo: hey! you think we could talk?

You lock your screen almost as soon as you read the message because honestly, you don't have time to dwell over this man in your phone when there's a whole another person cooking you dinner in front of you. That's what ends up leaving a heartbroken Wonwoo, slumped on Joshua's couch as he barely zones into the movie that was playing on the screen. 

Joshua's had it with sitting around when Wonwoo stays unmoving throughout the ending credits– the man hates the credits for crying out loud!-- and instead decides to play cupid. It wasn't ideal, having to set up his sister with his best friend but well, any commoner could see how clearly you were meant to be with each other and he'd rather not have to listen to both sides' misery. 

It's okay timing, you've finished eating dinner with Mingyu, showering his food with compliments the whole time and flustering with your genuine shock at his abilities the whole night. He's helping you clean up with a cheeky grin on his face whenever he leans in a little too close to place a utensil back in its place and you let a smile overtake your face. But you can barely let yourself enjoy the date because if Wonwoo ill-timed text wasn't enough, you're done for when both him and Joshua show up at your door.

"What the fuck?" you ask your brother because you're positive you told him you had a date tonight and then you spot a spaced out Wonwoo next to him, and suddenly put two and two together. 

Wonwoo's eyes never leave your figure, taking in how beautiful the blue dress you were wearing was and how you'd put your hair up in a half-bun, a few strands framing your face prettily. He feels sick, first in a good way and then Mingyu pops up behind you, and now Wonwoo's sick in a bad way. The tall man looks so comfortable next to you, arm brushing against yours as he raises his eyebrows in confusion at the two intruders.

"Sorry, Gyu, these are…" you start to introduce them as they are and then, find a particularly provoking way to put it, "...my brothers."

Wonwoo might actually throw up right here and right now. Gyu? Brothers???

Joshua butts in quickly, "Well, technically, I'm Y/N's older brother, and this is Wonwoo, my friend."

"Ohhh," Mingyu nods in understanding, bowing when he realizes Joshua's your sibling, "Nice to meet you. I'm Mingyu and I work with Y/N."

Before you know it, Joshua works his charms on Mingyu and suddenly, date night for two turns into family night for four. You watch in dismay as your date spends a full hour talking to your brother about one thing and another, actually considering setting them up for a minute. And then, Mingyu glances at his watch and sighs, telling you he needs to take off. 

Joshua, devil incarnate, offers to walk Mingyu out and before you can protest, Mingyu accepts (????) and you watch helplessly as your brother leaves you alone with Wonwoo, narrowly missing the pointed look Joshua sends his best friend on his way out. 

The room now silent with them gone, you stand up with a wary sigh, patting down your dress. Wonwoo's watching and you know because the first words he says that evening are, "You look beautiful tonight."

You hate how the heat creeps up your neck immediately at his beck and call. But you keep from telling him off because even that would mean you caving in. 

But then he follows you to the kitchen, steps in tandem as you pretend to busy yourself with the dishes. The space between you is small though and you end up bumping into the man trying to reach for the fridge. He takes the chance and holds your wrist in his hand. "Hey," he breathes, "You won't even look at me?" 

"No, I've seen enough."

"I'm assuming that includes the text I sent you tonight. And the ones before that?"

God, you hate how good Wonwoo is at frustrating you. You snap, "Don't act like this is on me, Wonwoo. You're the one who pretends like nothing's happened between us." 

"Really? Because a lot's happened between us, Y/N. A lot of things that haven't happened with you and that Mingyu." 

You scoff, brushing his hand off your wrist. "That is so typical of you. Coming around because you're jealous? But you can't stand to tell my brother something happened between us? What is this, a game to you?"

Wonwoo freezes when he considers what you've said. "Did Shua say something to you?"

You cross your arms, "No. I overheard you telling him. I can't believe it though. I really thought we had something good going for us."

You break away from the arm that Wonwoo raises to keep you close and throw yourself onto your couch with an exasperated sniffle. This couch sure has seen a lot, you think wistfully, silently listening as Wonwoo's footsteps came closer. He's sitting next to you then, hesitant arm around you.

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I'm really sorry. What you heard was… me being an idiot. I wasn't ready to talk about it with Shua so soon. I meant everything happened so fast. I hadn't exactly planned on falling for my best friend's sister, you know? Or kissing her in her apartment either. But it happened and I'm so glad it did. I was just slow at processing it. I'm sorry."

You groan. "It's not completely your fault, I guess. I just wish you would've talked to me about it. I felt so alone the whole time." 

Suddenly Wonwoo's moving up from next to you and dropping onto his knees so that you're now meeting his eyes. He looks concerned, mouth ajar as he takes your hands in his. "Are you with Mingyu?"

You let out a sound of disbelief, "No! I'm– I just called him over because I was mad at you! I thought you thought it was a mistake so I…"

"I don't. And I never did. I'm just scared. But I shouldn't have made that your problem. I love hanging out with you though and I especially love kissing you. It would be great if you'd let me take you out on a date instead, please?" 

And in that moment with Wonwoo on his knees in front of you, looking at you like you'd just told him he would live forever, you don't think you could do anything but say yes. 

– 

"You think we're a cliché?!" 

You flinch at Wonwoo's shocked question after you'd revealed to him the mental list of clichés that you embodied in your relationship with him. He's nearly seething when he finds out you're not joking. 

"Y/N, you know that's the meanest thing you could ever say to me? Am I really that bad a boyfriend?"

"Woo, my love, will you calm down?" you take one of his hands in yours, "I don't think clichés are as bad as you think they are. They're cliché for a reason! It's because they're meant to be done over and over again. They're tried and true."

"Tried and trite, more like."

"Come on, Woo, you can't act like you don't see it! From the very beginning!" 

He takes a lick at his gelato and you smile when you see him softening a little. You stop walking and stand in his way, barely concerned about the strangers littering the small ice-cream shop when you press a kiss to his lips. "I love you," you mumble against his ice-cold mouth. He shoots you a look that informs you that he knows what you're doing but he shoots back, " I love you, too."

"And love itself is cliché, don't you think?"

Wonwoo closes his eyes as if in physical pain while you uncontrollably laugh. "I knew I shouldn't have fallen for that! You're trying to make me cry in public, aren't you?"

"Aww, it's okay to cry, Woo, baby. Emotions are only natural–"

"I'm calling Shua and asking him to pick you up. I'm leaving."

"Okay, I went too far. Don't make me commute with my brother, I beg you."

– 

"Love, you ready to go?" you hear Wonwoo ask from the living room. You'd banished him to the couch after he'd made it his life mission to get in your way while you tried to get ready for your date. Well, double date actually. Karina was visiting you on break with her boyfriend, Taeyong, and she'd asked if you'd be down to get dinner with them. You had never agreed to dinner plans faster. 

"I am," you call back, just as you smear on lipstick, checking your teeth for any missed food particles for good measure. "Can I come in now?" 

You can see Wonwoo's silhouette at the door, gingerly watching you from the back for confirmation. You melt with a soft smile, beckoning him in, "Yes. Your exile's over."

Wonwoo celebrates with an exaggerated fist pump and you laugh at his antics when he skips over excitedly. "I'm a free man," he murmurs as his hands naturally slide down your arms to find your fingers. He twirls you around, admiring the black dress you broke out for the ocassion. "You look gorgeous," he says with a kiss to your cheeks.

"Are you quoting Taylor Swift at me?" you ask him with a giggle.

"Who's that?" he questions with a poorly feigned frown of confusion. You roll your eyes but open your arms invitingly, "Will you hug me?" 

Hugging had gradually become your favorite part of your skinship with Wonwoo, even more so than kissing, because the way he would shoot you a loving smile before wrapping his arms around and swallowing you into a world of cozy and comfort… yeah, you don't think anything could compare easily. Sometimes, he would hum happily, the vibrations would only soothing you into the embrace further and often your boyfriend had to peel you off him so you could actually get on with your day. 

Today, he lets you cling on longer than usual (he likes to say he's rationing his hugs. You tell him he's just a big tease), probably because he's busy relishing in being overwhelmed by your scent and the little kisses you sprinkle across his exposed neck. When he pulls away, you don't complain like normal, instead revealing the stars in your eyes to him. "You're warm. I love this sweater of yours." 

It was the same navy sweater that had you sweating over Wonwoo back when you were still going back and forth with your feelings for each other. He chuckles in amusement and then steps away without warning, earning a whine from you. But then he tugs the sweater off and your expressions turns playful. 

"Woo," you start warningly, "you know we're meeting them at the restaurant by nine–"

You're stopped mid-sentence when Wonwoo straightens out his garment and commands out, "Raise your arms for me, baby?"

But this is not his bedroom voice, no, no. This is his sappy voice and you already know what he's doing when he pulls the sweater over your head and down your torso. "It looks cute," Wonwoo comments by the time you have the sleeves pulled down properly. 

"You know I hate that word, Woo," you complain but he doesn't let you, pecking your forehead. You sigh in defeat and admire the sweater in the mirror, the fabric sitting surprisingly well against the skirt of your dress. You shrug, "I suppose I can work with this new outfit."

"If not, I can always just take it off for you–"

"Okay, we're leaving before you say another word!" 

Wonwoo laughs as he lets you pull him out after you, out the living room and into the hallway. He stands next to you, hands in his pocket while he waits for you to lock the door and glances at Joshua's door, wondering what his best friend was up to. You don't give a chance to do something about it though because your hands back on his arm in no time – and he swears you touch his arm for reasons beyond appropriate but you'd rather die than admit to it– and walk into the night. 

You meet Karina at a place called Love in the Air and Wonwoo's had listen to you go on, super smug, about how beautifully cliché the name and ambience of the restaurant is. Each dish has a romantic origin, like the shall I compare thee to a summer's day cocktail that Karina and Taeyong share, down to the lipstick-shaped bottles of wine served to your table. And as much as Wonwoo pretends to hate the cliché of love, he still orders the matching Valentine's soup as you just so you can watch his order come out in surprise. 

And as much as Wonwoo pretends he doesn't love the cliché of love, when you lean into his arm at the end of the night, already dozing off when he runs his fingers through your scalp, he can't help but let his heart soar with affection for you. And he thinks he would, after all, be in a cliché if it means to end up in your arms night after night. 

--

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

hiii oh my god why is this fic actually long!!! i wrote in like a day too so i'm just confused... it was 3k a minute and then 29 pages the other?? that's just wonwoo magic or smth i guess... this was requested and i hope the anon who asked for this enjoys it!!! writing it made a lil sick because of how sappy it is but ... it is what it is.

and consider this me admitting that i wouldn't mind having joshua be my brother... and that's just the flavor of parasocial relationship i'm dealing with these days lol

as always: lots of love to all friends and foes !!

[inkspiredwriting]

Culinary Catastrophe

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was not one to shy away from a challenge. He had faced apocalyptic threats, time travel mishaps, and family drama with a calm demeanor. But tonight, he was taking on a different kind of challenge: cooking a romantic dinner for his wife, Y/N.

Five had meticulously planned the evening. He had chosen a recipe for her favorite dish, set the table with candles and flowers, and even picked out a nice bottle of wine. He wanted everything to be perfect.

As Y/N was out running errands, Five started in the kitchen with an air of confidence. How hard could it be? He had faced the end of the world multiple times; surely, a simple dinner would be a piece of cake. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

Things began to unravel almost immediately. The first sign of trouble came when he couldn’t find the right ingredients. He had forgotten to buy fresh basil, and the grocery store only had dried herbs. “No problem,” he thought, “I’ll make do.”

Then, he realized he didn’t know how to properly dice an onion. What should have been a quick task turned into a tearful, uneven mess. By the time he had the onion somewhat chopped, his eyes were stinging so much he had to take a break.

Determined to press on, Five moved to the stove. He was supposed to sauté the onions until they were golden brown, but he got distracted looking for a misplaced spatula. The onions burned, filling the kitchen with smoke.

“Damn it,” Five muttered, opening the window to clear the air. He tossed the charred onions and started over, this time paying closer attention.

Next, he tried to make the sauce. The recipe called for a delicate balance of spices, cream, and tomatoes. Five, thinking he could eyeball the measurements, ended up with a concoction that was either too salty, too spicy, or just plain odd-tasting. Each attempt got progressively worse, and he was rapidly running out of ingredients.

Meanwhile, the pasta was supposed to be al dente, but Five misjudged the timing and ended up with a pot of mushy noodles. He groaned in frustration, his once pristine kitchen now a battlefield of dirty dishes, spilled ingredients, and a burned potholder.

Just as he was about to give up, the front door opened, and Y/N walked in. She sniffed the air, her brow furrowing. “What’s that smell?” she called out, heading towards the kitchen.

Five, who had flour on his shirt and sauce splattered on his face, turned to face her with a sheepish grin. “Uh, surprise?”

Y/N took in the scene: the chaotic kitchen, the failed attempts at dinner, and her frazzled husband. She couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Oh, Five, what happened?”

Five rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed. “I wanted to cook you a nice dinner, but it turns out saving the world is easier than making pasta.”

Y/N walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s the thought that counts. Thank you for trying. It means a lot.”

Five smiled, relieved that she wasn’t upset. “How about we order takeout and call it a night?”

Y/N nodded, still chuckling. “That sounds perfect. We can even eat it by candlelight.”

As they waited for the delivery, Five and Y/N cleaned up the kitchen together, turning the mishap into a fun, shared experience. They ended up sitting on the floor, eating pizza by candlelight and laughing about Five’s culinary catastrophe.

“I guess I should stick to what I’m good at,” Five said, taking a bite of his slice.

Y/N shook her head, smiling fondly at him. “You’re good at a lot of things, Five. But tonight, you’ve proven that you’re also good at making me feel loved. And that’s what really matters.”

Five pulled her close, grateful for her understanding. “I love you, Y/N. Even if I’m a terrible cook.”

Y/N kissed him softly. “I love you too, Five. And for the record, I think you’d make a great chef with a little practice.”

Five laughed, holding her tighter. “Maybe. But for now, I’m just happy to be with you.”

The night might not have gone as planned, but it ended up being perfect in its own way. Five and Y/N realized that sometimes, the best memories are made when things go hilariously wrong.

[astralnymphh]

do you prefer dom or sub ellie? I’m soooo conflicted >.<

like subtop!els or softdom!ellie are certified hood classics but i love being thrown for a loop lol

gahhhj ellie is definitely a switch at heart at mind and at coochie but it's so brain–conflicting cuz like.. AUGHH!!

subtop!els whos constantly throttled by your sole demeanor and just the way you prance about regarding the heres and theres of your teasing. a demure trace of skin, such as your wrists, how they flick and roll your hands everywhere but her soft and dampened folds– fuck you, she would think, for elusively guiding her to a place of eagerness. how she sheds away her typical 'domineering' slice by slice, orgasm by orgasm, cause you wouldn't stop unsheathing her silicone girth from your pussy, eyeballing your folds recoiling back together as you hoist from straddling her. "n–no.. put it back in, please– fuck, babe.." such a fucking loser, whining for you to bounce on her. being under your thrall, she dares not to draw her hands down and fuck you herself. no no no, poor baby would never. might elaborate on this in a separate ask if I get one regarding like reader riding ellie but tortures her with their lack of actual putting her cock inside. kinda like.. cockteasing?? ish?? ౨ৎ

but then..

dom!els who foregoes all sense of tenderness and teases you instead. shifting only the cap of her dick between your labia and constantly pulling it out only to plug you up again. tipfucking, i guess. will legit shank her fat cock deep inside you, pushing out an ooze of your slick as it draws upon the back wall of your pussy– skin slap included, only to yank it back out and begin fucking you with the tip only again. oh my god, and then let's say, at dinner– you sit across from her, poly–cotton table cloth downpours over your legs nicely enough to conceal what goes on below the oak~. footjob. i said it. reader thinks that they'll be able to feint a move, play around with her clit, be the boss, but unbeknowningst to them, one press of your sock–clad toes (raw dogs later) to her crotch dresses a discovery up in the form of a bulge, hard in her jeans. you palpate your feet around it, flatten to the heel, and mold her size in the curve of your foot. ellie would give the topmost haughty glare ever– glad she was one step ahead of you. furthermore that leads to the tipfucking tease mentioned earlier. "didn't expect this, hmm? oh~ mhm, yeah.. buck back into me all you want, m'not fuckin' that pussy yet." ugh just the thought of dom!ellie being chock full of surprises and leading you on the notion of being in charge, when in coldly served facts, you would not be. ౨ৎ

i got so off track thinking of scenarios damn. guess ill elaborate on either of these if i ever get asked abt it lol

[ssparksflyy]

don't save some other girl ᯓᡣ𐭩

pairing jason grace x daughter of minerva!reader summary i lost the request but this one's for you @hope92100 !! an bat shit crazy jason save me... save me bat shit crazy jason

OF course the one 'peaceful' day you get with jason gets ruined by monsters.

the rest of your crew was spending the day exploring the city, while you and jason agreed to stay behind and guard the ship (could you really call it a ship if it also flew?), hoping to get some peace while you were able to spend some time alone for the first time in weeks.

you were lying in bed with jason and watching a movie when you heard a loud crash come from the main deck. you were both quick to scramble up and dash out of his room, pulling out your swords as you reached the main deck.

you'd be lying if you said you didn't want to run away from the sight of the moster. a godzilla size glowing black squid with ten rapid arms and one big eyeball frantically looking in different directions was right in front of you.

"ill take it's left, you take right! try cutting at it's arms!!" jason yelled as he yelled to the left side of the monster.

you nodded your head frantically and ran to the other side of the deck, ducking and slicing anytime an arm came swinging at you. you weren't able to find a part of the ship where you could stop to think for just a second, maybe get a good view on as to where this monster's blind spot was. once you were able to attack that, this thing would turn to dust and leave you and jason be. looking around frantically, you realized that getting to higher ground was the solution.

continuing to duck and dodge at any squid arms that came swinging in your direction, you climbed the ladder that led to the higher end of the deck, running towards the railing.

"jason!" you called out.

"yea?!" you heard him yell from the other side of the deck.

"i need you to distract this thing, try to get it to focus on you!"

"why? what're you-"

"just do it please!!!"

he didnt reply, but you knew as the monster's arms stared swinging more in his direction, he had done what you asked him to. you squeezed your eyes shut and silently prayed to all the gods your plan would work before beginning to climb on top of the railing.

you held your arms out, trying to balance yourself and not fall with each step you took. you needed to get a hit as close as you could to the monster's back. from there, you could determine where this thing's weak spot was.

you were so focused on your feet and trying to stay on the railing, the only thing that snapped you out of your trance was the impact of the squid's tentacle that sent you flying off that very railing.

as you fell, it felt as if time stopped. as if these were your final moments to 'enjoy' life before falling to your death. the impact wouldn't be what would take you, but the quick currents of the water would be what swept you away, incapable of even processing what was happening. and then you'd die. nothing more, this was it.

you closed your eyes as you accepted your fate, as if you were allowing time to resume it's regular speed.

fortunately for you, somebody else hadn't accepted it.

jason must've swept in at lightning speed because one moment you were falling to your death, and then next you were back on the deck, sitting in a corner while jason rushed back to deal with the monster.

you watched in shock as jason flew around the monster at incredible speed, dodging and attacking every arm that came his way. he began sending down bolts of lighting as he flew, electrocuting the monster when it got too close. you'd never seen him like this, so determined to finish off a monster, such power radiating off of him. you had to admit it was actually quit frightening. you knew jason was powerful, and you hated when people ignored his talents, but seeing him in action like this and experiencing his power at such a high level almost made you scared of him. scared that maybe even you were underestimating his powers. scared if thing things he could possibly do. when you were able to finally see a glimpse of his face, the murderous look he had didn't exactly give you the comfort you were looking for.

in the matter of a minute, jason had the monster covered in the marks of his sword, moving slower than ever. with one final stab to the back, the monster had finally dispersed into dust and into the pits of tartarus.

he finally landed on his feet, taking only a second to catch his breathe before running over to you. he slid onto his knees as he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for the side of your face.

"are you okay? are you alright? gods (name) you scared the living shit out of me, i thought i lost you-"

"im okay, im okay jason. thank you. thank you so much, i..." the words seemed to have caught in your throat. tears began to form in your eyes as the realization that you almost died hit you.

jason realized this as well and pulled you in for one of the tightest hugs you were ever given. it was as if he too needed to realize that you were alright.

as much as you appreciated how much he cared, you couldnt shake off his manic state from just a minute ago. truth be told, you werent sure if you could ever handle to see him like that again. you knew you wouldn't be able to stay quiet for very long, so why try?

"jason?" you said, pulling away from him.

"yea?" he asked, you could hear desperation in his voice.

"i love you, and i know how powerful you are, and i would never want to hold you back but," you paused, "please never ever do that again."

a look of worry spread across his face, "no, no, of course not. im so sorry (name), i didnt know-"

"it's fine. at least i know you wont be saving some other girl anytime soon."

he smiled and pressed a soft kiss on your lips, "wouldnt dream of it"

[sreegs]

If you have a slow cooker, some butter, and a bag of sweet onions, and some patience, you can make the easiest and best caramelized onions in your life. The slow cooker method ensures you don't have to watch your onions to make sure they're not burning. I've posted this a couple times but I'm gonna write the recipe down here.

This is so damn easy. It's also nearly impossible to fuck up. It also scales well.

A few notes on ingredients first:

You should use sweet onions or vidalia onions. These have a higher sugar content than yellow or white. You can also mix sweet/vidalia with red onions as well. Spanish onions can substitute sweet/vidalia.

This recipe presumes you're using sweet onions that are on the larger side, bigger than your fist. If your onions are smaller I'd say say three smalls equal two large.

I usually eyeball the ingredients, but you will be using roughly a teaspoon (5g) of butter per large onion.

What you need:

Slow cooker

6 large sweet onions

2 tablespoons (30g) of butter, plus more for adjustments

Salt as needed

Instructions:

Remove the onion skins and slice your onions as you want. I prefer to french my onions but you can cut them into half moons. Precision doesn't matter, but don't cut them too finely.

Turn on your slow cooker to high and set it for 8 hours. Cook time will vary.

Toss the butter and sliced onions into the slow cooker. Once the butter melts, mix it around to distribute the butter. If there's still onions that don't get buttered up after melting and mixing, add a bit more butter.

Salt as desired. I do two heavy pinches (approx 1 teaspoon) for 6 onions.

Put the lid on the slow cooker and let it cook undisturbed for 8 hours.

After the 8 hour cook:

Ok decision time. You can either go big here or not, up to you:

Check your onions. They should be reduced and a bit more golden brown now. If you wanna go big, reset your slow cooker to low and set the timer to cook overnight, like 12 hours. At the end of this sometimes it looks like your onions got a little burned on top, but they did not. It's fine.

If you want your onions today, or after they've cooked for another 12 hours, the next steps are the same:

Remove the lid and stir the onions. Set the slow cooker on high again for 1 hour and leave the lid off.

Let cook for at least another half hour, then stir and check for doneness. The onions will brown rapidly during this time but they won't burn as long as there's still liquid in there.

Keep checking every 5-10 minutes. Cook longer if necessary. Once you're satisfied with the consistency, you're done.

The caramelized onions can be kept in an airtight container for about a week in the fridge. Freeze the rest.

Note: if you get to the end and the onions are swimming in too much butter but they seem done, you can always skim some off. Then you have browned onion butter to put on anything you want to taste delicious.

[tiannasfanfic]

Luck

Eddie Munson x Reader x Steve Harrington (Fluff)

| Masterlist | AO3 Link |

Summary: After a wild night out at The Hideout, Eddie Munson wakes up in bed with some unexpected company and no memory of what happened.

Rating: General Auidences

Author Note: Gender neutral reader, no pronouns used.

CW: Recreational alcohol and marijuana use; tobacco use; heavily implied sex (no details); could be seen as dubcon due to the use of mild altering substances, but I tried my best to address it in the story that this is something they all wouldn't done sober, too.

Word Count: 4,345

Eddie Tag List: @eddie-swhore

Waking up after a hard night of drinking was always strange and unpleasant. In all honesty, that was why Eddie Munson preferred weed. Sure, getting drunk could be fun with the right people, but the next day was always a little slice of hell on earth.

Today was no exception. Rather than gently lifting up into consciousness as he woke up naturally, he was instead woken up by a severe pounding in his head.

Eddie opened his eyes briefly and groaned in pain before closing them again. The open curtains allowed the late morning sun to illuminate the room. The bright light sent bolts of pain through each of his eyeballs, making the headache worse. It was a steady pounding feeling, as if someone were in his head playing a drum solo.

Rolling onto his back, Eddie brought his ring clad hands up to his face to rub his eyes for a bit before attempting to open them again. While it still hurt, at least he expected the room to be so bright this time. Still though, it made his stomach turn a bit and his head throb even more. He knew if he tried to get up right now that his stomach wouldn’t be feeling too good either. Eddie decided his normal hangover cure was in order.

Shutting his eyes again, he rolled over towards the center of his bed, fully intending to go back to sleep. He threw his arm out to stretch across the empty space next to him.

Instead of stretching out like he intended though, his arm landed on something that cause it do bend at an awkward angle, as if draped over something. Eddie cracked his eyes open again and lifted his head slightly. It took him a moment to process it, but he eventually realized there was someone else laying under the blankets with him, still sleeping peacefully.

While bringing someone home with him from The Hideout wasn’t a completely uncommon occurrence, it didn’t happen very often. And, when it did, he was always sober enough to remember it once he woke up in the next day. Right now, though, Eddie couldn’t even remember how he got home from the bar last night, much less remember bringing someone home with him.

Though Eddie’s head was still pounding, the idea of sleep was forgotten. He started wracking his brain, trying to piece together the previous night.

Corroded Coffin had a Saturday night gig at The Hideout. That much he remembered. It ended up being a fantastic show. All of their friends came out for it, and they drew in a fairly large crowd since they were playing on the weekend. Granted, the bar was still under half capacity, but it was one of their largest crowds to date and that was something to celebrate. And, after the show, that’s exactly what everyone had done.

Eddie remembered Steve buying a round of drinks after the performance. He remembered you and him sneaking off to a stall in the men’s room to share a joint. He remembered Gareth ordering a round of shots when the two of you got back. Then Robin ordered a round of drinks after that. And then Jeff ordered another round of shots after that. At some point, he vaguely remembered tequila getting involved. But, after that, there was nothing until just a little bit ago when he woke up.

After thinking on it for a while, he gave up on trying to remember, figuring that would come back later. But Eddie was curious now. He reached over to gently pull the blanket down a bit to see who it was he ended up taking home with him.

Eddie froze, still holding the blanket.

You. You were lying next to him in bed.

Eddie’s mind whirled, his heart pounding as loudly as his head by this point.

You’d never been in bed with him before, even just to sleep. There were only a few times you’d ever stayed over, only on nights when you couldn’t drive home or the weather was bad, but he always slept on the couch those nights so you could have the bed to yourself. There had to be a logical explanation for this.

Out of curiosity, he lifted the edge of the blanket and looked down.

Eddie’s heart stopped.

You both were completely naked.

He stared down at your bodies as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

You were laying with your arms folded against your chest and half on your stomach, which blocked your private areas from his view. All he could really see the full length of your bare leg all the way up past the curve of your ass to your hip.

Your hip that currently had a hand on it, which was neither his nor yours.

Eddie sat up hurriedly. It was quite a shock realizing there was a third person in bed with you two, but that was nothing in comparison to the shock of seeing who exactly it was.

Curled up on your other side was none other than Steve Harrington.

Once again, it took a moment for Eddie to comprehend what he was seeing.

The section of blanket on Steve’s side had slid down some, revealing that he was shirtless. Though, another peek under the blankets revealed that he was just as naked as you and Eddie were.

Fully in shock now, Eddie slowly laid back down. He stared at the ceiling, wracking his brain again in a desperate attempt to remember the night before.

The fog of alcohol and the headache from the hangover blocked off his memory still, so he gave up again and debated on what he should do next.

He supposed he could just leave and come back later after the both of you had left, but that would only delay the inevitable. You two would still be waking up naked in his bed even if he wasn’t there to see it. Eventually, this would need to be addressed if you all wanted any sort of friendship after this. It was going to be awkward when the two of you woke up. That much he knew for sure.

Now in desperate need in of a smoke, Eddie carefully slipped out of bed, trying not to wake either of you. He found a pair of sweatpants among his laundry scattered about on the floor. As he pulled them on, he noticed your clothes and Steve’s flung haphazardly around the room, along with the clothes he had been wearing last night. He swallowed heavily, quietly heading from the bedroom.

As he made a pit stop in the bathroom, Eddie was still trying to figure out how you all ended up in bed together. He knew what it looked like. He was well aware of what it looked like. But it couldn’t possibly have been that. No way. He’d never been drunk or high enough to act on his attraction to either of you. The only thing he could think of was that all you all started feeling hot from the alcohol, stripped down to cool off and just fell asleep. That had to be it.

But then as he went to leave the bathroom, he glanced in the mirror and did a double take. Scattered along his upper chest, neck and shoulders were hickies and bite marks of various sizes and shades.

Stunned, he stared at himself for a moment. He turned slowly then turned to get a good look at the rest of his body. While there wasn’t any more hickies that he could see, streaked down his back were several dark pink welts that were clearly nail marks. In addition to that, just above his shoulder blades were a few crescent shaped bruises, like someone had dug their nails into his back while holding onto him.

Eddie’s jaw dropped. He met his own gaze in the mirror.

“What the fuck did you do?” he said softly to his reflection.

In the living room, Eddie found evidence that you three had hung out here for a while before migrating to his bed. A few empty beer bottles littered the coffee table and a half-smoked joint sat in the ashtray. Eddie slipped on his jacket and sneakers before grabbing the joint on the way to the front door.

This morning called for something stronger than a cigarette now.

Trying to stay quiet, he left the front door partially open and gently closed the screen door. The sun was even brighter now that he was outside, which immediately got in Eddie’s eyes and made him wince. His head was throbbing even more now that he was up, which, as predicted, was starting to make his stomach queasy. He lit the joint first, hoping to calm his nerves as well as the effects of the hangover. Once that was gone, he fished his cigarettes out of his pocket and began chain smoking.

Not too long after Eddie started on his first cigarette, a very groggy, and very hungover, Steve sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes and squinted as he looked around the room. Confusion sat in as he didn’t recognize where he was at first. But then after his gaze landed on a couple of guitars and one heavy metal poster after another, he slowly came to realize he was in Eddie’s bedroom.

This didn’t come as a surprise to Steve though. The plan the night before had always been to come back to Eddie’s place at the end of the night. Nancy had picked the three of you up from there since it was her turn to be the designated driver, so you all had left your vehicles there. While he didn’t remember coming to bed, he had vague memories of sharing a cab with you and Eddie once the bar had closed, well after Nancy and the others had left. He remembered you three wanted to continue partying and you two decided you were staying the night. Wayne was out of town that weekend for work training, so Eddie was all for having you two over for the night.

As Steve went to swing his legs out of bed, a sudden throbbing in his head made him double over slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs, eyes squeezed closed and slightly watering.

Getting drunk is always a good idea until the next day.

Halfway through his third cigarette, Eddie heard someone stirring in the trailer through the screen door. Whoever it was, be it you or Steve, was trying to be quiet, but the creaky floor wasn’t having it.

Eddie wasn’t any closer to figuring out what he was going to do. Leaving still seemed like the best idea, but it was too late for that now. The keys to his van were on the kitchen counter.

Fortunately, whoever was it was didn’t come outside, giving him some more time to compose himself. He listened to them shuffle across the living room, pick up the phone and dial a number.

Whoever they were trying to call didn’t answer because Eddie heard them hang up then try again.

“C’mon, pick up,” a voice muttered from inside.

Eddie couldn’t tell who it was until whoever the person they were trying to call finally answered.

“Robin! Finally!” they whisper yelled. “I’m freaking out over here!”

Eddie finally recognized the voice as Steve’s and some of his nerves eased hearing it was Steve, but he still wasn’t quite ready to face him just yet. Creeping closer to the door, he listened in on Steve’s side of the conversation.

“You’ve gotta help me out, I don’t know what to do!” Pause. “I can’t calm down! I just woke up next to Y/N in Eddie’s bed!” Pause. “Robin, we were both naked!” Pause. “No, I’m not joking!” Pause. “Seriously, Robin, now is not the time for jokes!” Pause. “I don’t know if I had fun, I don’t remember anything after leaving The Hideout!”

Knowing that he wasn’t the only one in the dark made Eddie feel a little better about the whole thing. But then a thought occurred to him, and all of his nerves came back.

In a way, he hoped you wouldn’t remember any it either. There was no telling what your reaction would be to all this. There wasn’t any use trying to deny what happened anymore. The three of you had a threesome last night. Or, at the very least, you and Eddie fucked. That much was obviously for certain judging from the way his own chest and back looked. But, then again, it wouldn’t make much sense why Harrington would be in the same state as you both unless he was also involved too. At least if none of you remembered what happened, that way you would all be a blank slate and could pretend it didn’t happen.

Granted, he didn’t know how that would be possible since you all would know it happened, regardless of whether or not any of you remembered it. But, if that’s what it took to still be friends after all this, he was willing to give it a shot. He didn’t want to lose either of you due to some stupid drunken escapade.

Eddie sighed and took the last drag off his cigarette as Steve was finishing his call.

Time to face the music.

He stepped back into the trailer as Steve was hanging up the phone. Steve didn’t hear him at first, giving Eddie the chance to get a look at him.

While Steve had pulled on his jeans, he was still shirtless, giving Eddie a good view of his torso. He could see some nail marks down his back, as well as a few hickies on his neck and shoulders.

There was one question answered, at least.

The sound of the screen door closing made Steve finally turn around, revealing more hickies across his chest. A sheepish look came over his face when he saw Eddie.

“Uh, hey,” Steve said, running his hand through his hair nervously. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Eddie said, fiddling with his rings nervously.

A brief silence fell over the two men.

“Y/N’s naked,” Steve suddenly blurted out, and then pointed towards Eddie’s bedroom. “In your bed. Back there.”

Eddie nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” Eddie said, swallowing heavily. “Yeah, I saw.”

“So was I,” Steve said, and once again run his hand through his hair. “Completely naked. Next to Y/N. In your bed.”

Eddie nodded again.

“Yeeeah,” he said slowly. “I, uh, was naked, too. With you two. In my bed.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he swallowed heavily. He looked in the direction of the bedroom then back to Eddie.

“Do you think we…you know?” Steve asked, gesturing between the two of them and the bedroom, then gave the air a little thrust of his hips, as if he didn’t want to say what he was thinking.

“Obviously,” Eddie said, and gestured between the two of them. “Look at us, man. We had a pretty wild night from the looks of it.”

At Eddie’s words, Steve looked down at his chest. His eyes were wide as he slowly looked back up at Eddie.

“What the hell should we do?” Steve whisper yelled, looking close to panicking.

“I have no idea!” Eddie whisper yelled back. “I can’t say I’ve ever woken up like this before, much less with either of you!”

The two men stared at each other for a moment before Steve sighed.

“Man, this is crazy,” Steve said, which Eddie nodded in agreement with. Then Steve sighed, his arms crossing over his chest. “Maybe…we should see how Y/N feels about it first?”

Eddie brightened.

“Good idea,” he said hurriedly, feeling somewhat relieved the overall outcome wouldn’t be on his shoulders. “If Y/N’s fine with it, then I’m fine with it.”

Steve nodded readily in agreement. He opened his mouth to say something else but cut himself off when the sound of the toilet flushing came from the bathroom down the hall.

Both men whipped their heads around at the sound. Neither of them had heard you get up. Soon, they heard the bathroom door open.

Now it really was time to face the music.

Since facing Steve had gone easier than expected, Eddie braced himself for your reaction. He was fully prepared for a meltdown. He expected you to be upset, and even braced himself for tears. He expected some yelling, possibly some screaming. There might even be some accusations, though the possibility of you thinking anything like that made Eddie’s stomach clench. He hoped you would know that he would never take advantage of you while you were drunk…but, then again, could he really say that since he didn’t even remember what happened? The very idea alone made his stomach clenched even tighter.

When you came out of the bathroom, you were dressed in your clothes from the night before. You were humming softly, which struck Eddie as strange considering the circumstances. You usually didn’t hum all that much, just when you were in an exceedingly good mood. This didn’t really strike Eddie as an occasion where you would be in a good mood though.

As you started to turn into the kitchen, you looked up and saw them in the living room.

“Morning fellas,” you said, smiling brightly at them both before ducking into the small kitchen.

They could hear you start to open cabinet doors. Eddie and Steve both looked at each other, deep confusion on their faces. It didn’t seem like you were bothered by the state of things at all. Maybe you hadn’t put two and two together yet? You woke up alone in bed, so it was possible.

You came back a moment later and stood in the doorway to the living room. A box of cereal was tucked under your arm, and you were eating it dry right out of the box with your free hand.

Aside from the crunch of cereal and the sounds drifting in from the outside, the room was silent. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence but wasn’t really an uncomfortable one either. It was just a silence.

Eddie started rubbing the back of his neck nervously, his gaze flicking repeatedly between you and Steve. Steve was in a similar state, one of his feet tapping anxiously and he kept crossing and uncrossing his arms, his eyes looking between you and Eddie. You seemed to be the only one relaxed, munching on your cereal and looking between the two men.

It seemed like everyone was waiting on someone else to start talking first.

After some time of this, you cleared your throat, which made them both look back over at you.

“Uh,“ you finally said, smiling shyly at them. “Hi.”

“Hi,” said both Eddie and Steve at the same time.

“I, uh,” you said, then stopped to clear your throat. “I had a lot of fun last night.” you said.

Before either of them could process what you just said, you started laughing nervously and shook your head.

“Sorry,” you said, your cheeks flushing a soft pink. “That was a really weird thing for me to say after everything. I mean, obviously, I had fun.”

Eddie exchanged another look with Steve, then back to you.

Now you were the one who looked nervous, taking their silent exchange of a look for something else.

“Did, did you two have fun, too?” you asked, shifting on your feet.

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Well, um, that’s the thing, Princess,” he said, then stopped, unsure of how to phrase things.

“We were, uh,” Steve continued after a moment. “Actually trying to figure all that out. What happened last night, I mean.”

Your eyes widened at their words, and you looked back and forth between the two again.

“You guys don’t remember?” you asked.

Both men shook their heads.

Your mouth dropped opened in shock.

“Exactly h-how drunk were you two last night?” you asked softly.

“I don’t remember leaving The Hideout,” Eddie confessed, with a shrug.

“I barely remember the cab ride here,” Steve said. “Nothing after that though.”

Your hand flew to your mouth, an expression of horror on your face.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you said, your voice remorseful and you looked on the verge of tears. “I had no idea you guys were that drunk, I swear!”

“No no no!” Eddie said, taking a few steps forward so he could rest a hand on your shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. This isn’t your fault.”

All of a sudden, a very sheepish look came to you face and your cheeks flushed a bright pink.

“Actually, um,” you said. “I kind of initiated the whole thing.”

There was a moment of silence.

“What whole thing?” Steve asked, voice quiet and tinged with awe.

There was another moment of silence.

“You know,” you finally said, then gestured between the three of you, as if you were hesitant to say it. “Us. Having sex. It was my idea.”

There was a lot longer than just a moment of silence after that one.

Steve nearly fell over where he was standing but managed to catch his balance.

Eddie’s hand dropped from your shoulder in shock to hang limply at his side.

Now that it was confirmed, Eddie tried once again to remember the night before. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. The fog of alcohol was still too thick to penetrate with his head in the state it was and straining to think didn’t do anything but make the headache worse.

“So, um,” Steve said, finally breaking the silence and making Eddie look up. “H-How did it happen?”

“Well,” you said slowly, swallowing a bite of cereal. “We’ve all been flirting pretty heavily with each other for a while now, and I’ve had a thing for both of you for a long time before that.” A bashful grin came to your face then. “So, I may have gotten a little buzzed and handsy at the bar, and you both were into it. After we came back here, we had a few more drinks and, well…” You cleared your throat and looked down shyly. “I decided to try my luck and asked if you two wanted to have sex with me.”

Both Eddie and Steve stared at you in shock.

“You’ve had a thing got us for a while?” Eddie said when he finally found his voice again.

You nodded.

There was a short pause in the conversation as they processed this.

“Well?” Steve said after abit. “What’d we say?”

Eddie looked over at him with a raised brow. As if their answer wasn’t obvious already.

“Truthfully, not much,” you said as you looked up. “It escalated pretty quickly after that. Though, you both did double check to make sure I fully understood what I was saying after the alcohol and weed.” A warm smile came to your face. “I thought that was really sweet.”

Now it was Eddie’s turn to look down shyly.

The room was got quiet again.

“But you said you had fun, right?” Steve suddenly asked. You nodded in confirmation. “Then that must mean we did good, right?”

Eddie looked over at Steve, gawking at him. While this was an entirely new situation for him, Eddie was pretty sure it was in poor taste to ask for a report card after having a threesome.

To his surprise, you didn’t seem to mind. Biting your bottom lip, you grinned and nodded.

Eddie couldn’t help but grin himself then, a boost of confidence suddenly coming back. It briefly made him forget about the oddness of this situation.

“Yeah?” he asked, then decided to be bold. “How good?”

Now you were blushing again.

“Well, I’m pretty sore today,” you said, your voice going a bit higher pitched, so you had to clear your throat before continuing. “You both were pretty enthusiastic all night.”

It wasn’t too long after that you had to leave since you were supposed to meet up with family later on. The three of you kept conversation light as you and Steve finished dressing, talking about your plans for the day.

Once you got ready to leave, you gave them each a soft kiss on the lips.

“Hopefully once the hangovers go away you guys will remember some of it,” you said with a smile as you headed for the door.

“I sure as hell hope so, Princess,” Eddie groaned before he could stop himself.

While he turned red at his own words, you giggled at him as you opened the door to leave. It was the first time Eddie had ever heard that sound from you and it made his heart speed up. It gave him even more of his confidence back.

“If we don’t remember, any chance there could be a redo?” Eddie asked before he could talk himself out of it.

You froze in mid-step halfway out the door and turned quickly to look at Eddie. The shock on your face was almost comical. A quick glance over at Steve showed him staring at Eddie in horror. Looking back at you, Eddie gave you his biggest grin and winked at you, which he was delighted to see made you blush.

“Um, I-I don’t know,” you said, and then a grin of your own slowly spread across your face. “Maybe. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

You sent a wink back at Eddie before leaving then. Steve wasn’t too far behind, heading out himself just a few minutes later.

Plopping down on the couch as he listened to Steve’s car driving away, Eddie sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Initially, he didn’t have plans for today, but now he knew what he was going to spend the rest of his day doing.

Trying to remember fucking his two very hot best friends.

[fuckingrecipes]

Easy Homemade noodle recipes

Egg Yolks: Start with 2, go up from there.

Egg Whites: Half of however many yolks you used

Water: As needed. Maybe 1 tsp per 2 eggs.

Salt: idk, a pinch. 1 Teaspoon?

Flour: Enough so it becomes a dough, and not mush. 1 cup per egg, with more or less added for texture.

Butter or Oil: idk like half teaspoon per egg? I just blop a little bit in there, eyeballing it.

Other shit: Add dried herbs or spices if you want. I like an italian herb mix in mine. Basil and Oregano and Black Pepper

--

Start with a pile of flour. Sort out your egg situation and dump those into the flour. Add a little water and oil, and mix it together for about 5 mins.

If it's crumbly and doesn't want to be a neat dough ball after 5 mins, add more egg yolk or water. If it's super sticky and making a huge mess, add more flour.

After 10 mins of kneading and adjusting ratios so it looks like a dough, divide it into smaller balls that are each about the size of a lime. Doesn't have to be precise.

Let those chunks of dough rest for another 10 mins. (yes, resting is important)

Use a rolling pin to roll out the dough as thin as you can, without putting holes in it. Anywhere from 1/4 inch to paper thin is fine.

Rub a little more flour on the dough if it wants to stick to the rolling pin or your counter surface.

Once it's as flat as you want, roll up the dough like it's a scroll, and slice it thinly.

You can toss them in BOILING water (or straight into broth/sauce), and cooking 'till done. Cook time depends on how thick your noodles are. After 5 minutes of boiling, take a noodle out and try a nibble. If it's not done, boil it some more. If it's done, take it off the heat. You can also fry the noodles in oil if you want.

Or you can save them for later by laying or hanging the noodles until dry. Could be on a counter with paper towels on either side of them... could be hung on a coat hanger... however you can get airflow to dry those suckers out for a couple hours. Then put in an airtight container in the fridge.

[writing-intheundercroft]

when you know, you know

Read on AO3

Word Count: 7,169

Rating: T (just some smooches)

Summary: You and Garreth Weasley aren't on speaking terms, not since you were caught stealing billywig stings for him and subsequently banned from Honeydukes.

But the dawn of your sixth year brings a potion brewing contest, and you might finally have a chance to put him in his place.

A/N: Happy first birthday, Hogwarts Legacy! The HL discord server I'm in came up with the theme of One Year Later, and this is my submission. Thankful for all the lovely people I've met through this fandom, who encourage me to write every day <3

“Welcome to your sixth year of potions,” Professor Sharp says gruffly, leaning against his desk. “I hope you’re all prepared to start exploring the theories of potion composition, and have read the first five chapters of your textbook over the summer holidays as instructed.”

Sebastian groans next to you, flipping open his book.  You snort, craning your neck around the room to assess your classmates. 

Everett, Sacharissa, Andrew, Nastai, Poppy, and Grace–all of them still have the post-summer slump, faces glum as they wished to be free of the potions dungeon. At the station next to you, Leander looks ready to fall asleep.  He was practically using his fingers to keep his eyeballs open during the double potions period.

Next to Leander, you can’t help noticing Garreth Weasley.  It's unusual to see him so engaged; Garreth is normally the class clown, always trying to figure out a way to disrupt the lesson.  Instead, he’s sitting stick straight, scribbling every word Sharp had to say.  His notes were neatly organized, ingredients for the day’s brew already portioned out and chopped.

“What’s gotten into Weasley?” you whisper to Sebastian.

Sebastian scoffs. “Oh, he’s probably trying to get on Sharp’s good side, with the potion making contest coming up.”

“What contest?” You ask, albeit a bit too loud.

“I was just getting to that point,” Sharp says your name; the entire class had turned their attention to the two of you. Even Garreth was staring, despite the iciness between the two of you.  It’s been months since you last spoke, exchanging choice words in a shouting match after he’d gotten you banned from Honeydukes.  After all, he was the one who’d assured you Mr. Flume wouldn’t be home, and that it wouldn’t be too difficult to steal the billywig stings.

Nevermind that, you think, turning your attention back to Sharp’s lecture.

“Every year, I challenge the sixth year class to create a new potion,” Sharp drawls. “Many of the students who’ve won in the past have gone on to become some of the Hogwarts’s most successful potioneers.  The winner of the contest will receive after hours access to the potions classroom, unlimited usage of the ingredient cupboard, and their name included on the plaque in the trophy room.” he explains.

Sharp continues droning on about the rules; you feel Sebastian’s breath tickle your ear “Garreth’s been assuming he’ll win since we were second years,” he whispers. “I’d love to see you put him in his place.”

You swat at the freckled brunette, who lets out another audible chuckle.  Scanning the room again, your eyes briefly make contact with Garreth’s.  He looks at you with something fierce in his eyes; it’s almost threatening, you think.  He also looks a tad bit deflated, but considering the two of you aren’t friends anymore, you don’t really care to know why.

“Sure, I’ll enter.” You say loudly enough for Garreth to hear. “I’m sure it’ll be a clean sweep.”

Garreth’s eyes turn to slits before he refocuses on his notes.  His face is turning red as he scribbles on the parchment, and you can’t help feeling a bit satisfied at his reaction.  Suits him right, you think, for being such a coward. You’re going to kick his ass and get back for the ten detentions he bought you last year.

Sharp’s NEWT level class is just as painful as you’d imagined it would be.  Sacharissa nearly slices her own finger off trying to cut open a sopophorous bean, and Everett faints from the blood.  Andrew sends his own bean flying across the room, thwacking Natty in the forehead; it incites a verbal altercation that has the two nearly come to blows before Sharp can separate them.  You and Sebastian can’t help but laugh watching them, falling dreadfully behind in your own quest to brew a draught of living death.

“Look at those prats,” Sebastian nudges you. 

You look over at the two redheads adjacent to you–they’re working diligently, ignoring the dramatics of the classroom.  Garreth is clearly guiding the process, Leander eagerly observing him as he chops and stirs. They’re the only two students in the classroom even remotely close to brewing the potion correctly, and it’s a little surprising to you that Garreth would be so tame. 

He tilts his head, copper colored hair falling in front of his eyes. His hair is longer, shaggier than last year. You also can’t ignore how much larger his forearms are, probably from detentions spent lifting the cauldrons to and from the storage room. They’re thick and freckled, a dusting of hair—

Garreth turns his head, glaring at you. You’ve been blatantly staring at him for a whole minute now.

“Oi, get it together, woman.” Sebastian chides, snapping his fingers in front of your eyes. “I don’t think your cauldron is supposed to be purple—“

“Dammit!” You curse, turning back to your own brew. .  Sebastian laughs as you thwack him on the shoulder, stirring your potion.  It’s no good–the brew has turned the wrong color, and now resembles a fudgy texture.

“So much for winning the competition,” Sebastian teases you.  Your face heats up with embarrassment as Sharp walks over to your cauldron, assessing your work. 

“Better luck next time, I suppose.” Sharp says gruffly, raising his eyebrows at the thick goop. 

As expected, Garreth and Leander win the day’s best brew.  It takes twice as long as usual for you to scrub your cauldron, cheeks red from both embarrassment and the extra elbow grease you have to put in.  Sebastian, despite his promises to stay as long as he can, has already abandoned you to get to lunch ahead of the rush.  At this rate, you’ll miss lunch entirely.

“You should really throw some ashwinder eggshells in there.”

Looking up, you see Garreth standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into his pockets.  In lieu of the traditional blazer, he’s gone a bit casual with a crimson and gold Gryffindor sweater.  It looks a tad tight on him, and well worn.  Likely a hand-me-down from one of his many older brothers, you think.

“Mixed with water, they’re quite abrasive.  It’ll help with the cleaning.” Garreth suggests, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder.

“So, we’re talking again.” your tone is flippant; you scrub even harder at the baked in potion caking your cauldron.

Garreth rolls his eyes, dropping his bag to the ground. “Let me help,” he says gruffly, elbowing you out of the way.  He takes a handful of ashwinder eggshells, sprinkling it into your cauldron.  You peer over the edge as he dribbles water inside.

“Now put on your dragonhide gloves,” Garreth advises. “Don’t want to get burned, do you?”

You do as instructed, slipping the gloves on.  Garreth hands you the wire brush again, and this time the sludge slides off the edges of the cauldron with ease.

“See? Not so bad.” 

You open your mouth to thank him, but Garreth has stepped away from your station.  Bag in hand, he gives you a wary look.

“Earlier, when you were staring,” Garreth trails off.

“I wasn’t staring.” you scoff.  In reality, you were , but that’s not the point.

“You were,” Garreth countered. “You weren’t trying any funny mind tricks, were you?  I’d heard a rumor that you and Sallow were trying to study legilimency–”

Eyebrow raised, you cross your gloved arms. “Why on earth would I need to read your mind, Weasley?”

“To steal my potion recipe.” Garreth blurted, eyes narrowed. “For the contest.  You’re trying to win, I overheard you and Sallow talking about entering.”

You scoff in his face. “Why would I need to steal a recipe from you ?”

Garreth straightened, pushing his copper hair out of his eyes. “Because everyone knows that I,” jerking his thumb towards himself, “am going to win.  I’ve been planning my submission since I was a first year, and I’m not about to lose to you.” 

Whatever warmth you thought Garreth Weasley was going to give you is long gone. You lean back over your pewter cauldron, scrubbing aggressively.

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d stoop so low, Garreth.” You seeth. “You know what? Just for that, I am going to enter Sharp’s contest now–and I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Like hell you are,” Garreth huffs, leering down at you. You hadn’t noticed just how tall he’d gotten over the summer–

Focus, you remind yourself, eyes flitting away from his form.

“What are you two still doing in my classroom?”

You and Garreth spin around, almost knocking your cauldron over in the process.  An exhausted looking Sharp stands in the doorway, his palm on his head.

“Not you two,” he mutters. “I had a feeling the two of you would be battling it out for best brew.” 

“We were just comparing notes, sir.” Garreth says easily, backing away from you. “She needed help cleaning her cauldron.”

“Not your best work today,” Sharp reminds you, peering into your now sparkling clean cauldron. “The two of you should be off to lunch, or else you’ll miss the meal.”

“Yes sir,” the two of you chirp in unison.  Garreth takes his leave while you’re stowing your cauldron away, and he’s nowhere to be seen once you get to the Great Hall for lunch.  You want to fight, defend yourself against his accusations, but it doesn’t look like he’ll give you the chance.

His loss , you think, meandering over to your house table.  

The first month of classes has been hell.  While you’d pictured your sixth year to be quite leisurely with the extra free periods, you’ve spent every study hall cooped up in the library, buried in your books.  Despite passing last term with flying colors, it feels like you’re going to spend your entire life catching up to your classmates. You might be the hero of Hogwarts, but you still feel stupid in History of Magic, stumbling over your words.

You’re cursing to yourself as you run through the streets of Hogsmeade, trying to make it to J Pippin’s before closing.  Sharp’s potions contest has fallen to the bottom of your priorities, but the events of lunch earlier in the day have pushed you to work on your submission. You’d been sitting at the table with Sebastian and Ominis, lamenting over your shared arithmancy assignment when Garreth and Leander walked into the Great Hall, loud cheers and whoops coming from the Gryffindor table.  They were sopping wet, hair windswept, having just tested Garreth’s potion submission.

“No one will be able to beat him,” Leander had declared loudly, rustling Garreth’s long red hair. Garreth was grinning broadly, a gaggle of fifth year girls surrounding him in awe.  That alone was irksome; as if they really knew Garreth Weasley.  

“Since when did Garreth Weasley become the hottest commodity?” Ominis asked, tilting his chin in his palm.

Sebastian took a sip of his pumpkin juice, snorting. “Probably because he grew five inches over the holidays,” he joked. “Lost the pudge too.”

“Sebastian,” you warned, flicking him in the head. “Don’t be so cruel.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, shrugging. “It’s true,” he argued. “Anyways, I can’t wait to watch you put him in his place during the potions competition.  Do you have your brew ready?”

“Of course I do,” You lied, turning back to your parchment. “Don’t be silly.”

In actuality, you didn’t have your brew ready whatsoever–you’d spent the last month tinkering with several recipes, but nothing seemed good enough for submission.  With potions due tomorrow, you’ll have to spend the rest of your day working on the brew.  The rest of your classes for the day go unattended, spending the afternoon cooped up in the Room of Requirement to draft a recipe.  Nothing seems to be working, and you’re out of focus potions.  You could brew them up yourself, but perhaps some fresh air and a walk will do you good–therein, a trip to J Pippin’s was necessary.

The bell rings as you push the door in, Parry Pippin smiling at you from the register.  You entertain his small talk, questions about your summer holidays, all while anxiously checking your pocket watch for the time.  You still had your arithmancy homework, as well as a four foot scroll due in Transfiguration next week to work on–

“You haven’t run into Mr. Weasley, have you?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you look up at Parry. “No, I haven’t.” you say sharply, taking the carefully wrapped package full of focus potions that he’s packed into your arms. “Why would I?”

Pippin clicks his tongue. “I’m fresh out of the stench of the dead, that’s all.  Mr. Weasley was trying to purchase some more for his potions project.  Nasty business, procurement.  It’s hard to find a supplier that’ll face up to the inferi in the first place.” The register opens, and he begins counting your change. “I recommended he reach out to you for assistance.”

You blink at the shopkeeper. “Me?” 

“Well of course,” Pippin snorts. “You’re rather fearless, aren’t you?  Not that it matters, of course, he was quite put off by the suggestion.  Asked me where he could find them, and I pointed out an old abandoned treasure cave a few miles north, up in the valley.  Can always find them lurking around there.”

“I’m sorry , you directed a student to an inferi den?” You gape.

Pippin looks at you, eyebrows raised. “Don’t they teach you how to fight them and what not?  Isn’t that what Defense Against the Dark Arts is for?  Anywho, Mr. Weasley seemed rather confident in his abilities.  Think he was a bit embarrassed that I recommended he ask a girl for help.”

You block out whatever Pippin is saying, tucking the package under your arm as you leave the shop.  While it’s not your responsibility to look after Garreth (considering recent events and his rather frosty attitude towards you) you can’t help feeling a bit worried.  Most students don’t have much experience with the undead; you only have a basic grasp on battling them due to Sebastian’s shenanigans the year prior. Inferi are tough, even for most grown adults to deal with; any wound inflicted by one can render even the strongest wizard ill.  

The sun is beginning to set, and while you know you should head straight back to the Room of Requirement to work on your contest brew, you turn towards the path north.  You’re certain you’ve visited the treasure den Pippin is talking about before, and it won’t hurt to check.  If the clearing is empty, you’ve just gotten extra exercise for the day.  If not–well, you don’t want to think about that quite yet.

You’ve forgotten how long the trek to the Hogsmeade Valley is, feet aching as you stumble over the rocky terrain. You bet that even if Garreth has gone to hunt the inferi, he’s likely given up by now, gone back to the castle already.  You doubt Garreth wants to battle the inferi–he’s always had a distaste for dueling, preferring to watch everyone battle it out during Crossed Wands rather than participate.  

You swallow thickly, trying to push the image of Garreth fighting the undead out of your mind. Despite your anger towards him, you really don’t want him to go up against something he’s not ready for just to win a stupid class contest.

The sky is dark by the time you round out the hill.  From a distance, you can see the wooden arch to the old treasure den, and to your relief, nothing is disturbed. You’re about to turn on your heel to go back to the floo Upper Hogsfield when you sniff the familiar putrid stench of inferi.  Your blood runs cold when you hear a familiar groan, and then anxious yelps.

“ Diffindo !  Ah, shit!” 

You drop your parcel in the long grass, disappearing into a blue wisp as you close the distance between yourself and the voice.  Of course, it’s Garreth, looking panicked and battered as he tries to slice through the inferi.  They’re not fast, but his leg is bleeding, and he doesn’t know that severing charm will do no damage to the undead.

“Garreth!” you yell, sliding through the rocks towards him.

Garreth’s eyes widen, crying out your name.  Despite his injury, he’s holding his arm out as if to shield you.  That bloody Gryffindor bravery, you think, swatting his arm away.

“Get back,” Garreth yells. “Get to Upper Hogsfield, I can hold them off–”

“Get out of the way, you idiot,” you shriek, waving your wand towards him. Depulso might be a bit extreme, but all you can think about is getting the wounded boy out of the way. As soon as you hear Garreth yelp, landing on the soft grass, you turn your attention back to the inferi, who are closing in.  

“Confringo!” you pant, unleashing fiery flames from the tip of your wand towards them. The heat of the fire has them shrieking and turning away. Several of them disintegrate, leaving behind the precious bounty Garreth had sought them out for in the first place.

It’s quiet, except for your heavy breathing and the screeches of inferi, all turning into piles of ash as you defeat them.  Once you’re sure the last one has been slaughtered, you turn back to Garreth, a few feet away in the grass.  He’s staring at you, dumbfounded, as he clutches the gash on his leg.  He’s looking rather pale, the blood seeping from his cut a strange dark color.  

“Garreth,” you breathe, falling to your knees next to him. 

“It must be infected,” he says slowly. “From the inferi.”

There’s no time to waste.  You dig through your hip pouch, pulling out one of your spare wiggenwelds.  Garreth will surely need a blood renewing potion and some more itensive healing potions when you get back to Hogwarts, but this will do for now. Pulling out the stopper, you push the vial into his hands.

“I can’t believe Pippin would direct you to an inferi den,” you snarl, tearing a piece of your cloak to make a makeshift bandage. Garreth is quietly sipping on the wiggenweld, trying not to look at the damage. “I have half a mind to report him to your aunt–”

“Don’t,” Garreth begs. “Please, don’t.  It’s embarrassing enough.”

“Garreth, you could’ve been killed.” You argue.

“It’s my own fault.” he says miserably. “Fire is what destroys inferi.  I can’t believe I fucking forgot.”

You give him a wry look. “Well, potions is your better subject.” you joke.

Garreth ignores your quip, downing the rest of the healing potion. “You came up to find me.” he points out, pushing the empty vial back into your hands. “Why?”

You shrug. “Pippin told me you didn’t want my help, and I assumed you’d go off trying to get the ingredients for yourself.  You shouldn’t go up against them alone, Garreth.”

“You fought them alone,” Garreth points out. “You could handle them.”

“Well, either I fought them, or else you’d be turning into an inferi yourself right now.” 

“Probably best to not waste my good looks on being a zombie.” Garreth jokes.  Taking note of your stern face and unwillingness to laugh, he winces. “Should we get back to school now?  Perhaps we can make it to Upper Hogsfield; take the floo from there.  But make sure to get some of that stench of the dead before we leave.”

Garreth carefully supervises you as you scoop up the murky essence into your vials; he eyes you as you tuck them in your bag.  Garreth tries to get up on his own, groaning as he balances on his good leg, swatting away your helping hand.

“Let me help you, you twat.” you urge him, slinging his arm around your shoulder.  It doesn’t do much–he really has grown, and you need to stand on your tiptoes to even support him.

The two of you stumble through the grass and you pass your sad little package on the way down.  Oh well, you think. Your potion is the least of your worries, considering Garreth is still dripping blood next to you. Despite his protestations that he’s doing fine, you know from the way he’s clutching your shoulder that he’s not.

“You’re not going to take me to the hospital wing, are you?” Garreth groans as you support him to the flickering green flame outside of Upper Hogsfield. “If you take me there, Blainey will tell Aunt Tilly, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that lecture yet.”

“I have somewhere else you can go.” you offer, biting down on your lower lip.  You’ve never invited anyone into the Room of Requirement before–Professor Weasley strictly forbade you from sharing the room, and you’ve kept it a secret from Sebastian, Ominis, and Natty for almost a year now.  But you’re sure you can’t get into too much trouble, especially if you’re healing another student.

“Do you trust me?” You ask Garreth, slipping your arm around his.

The redhead looks down at you, perhaps a bit skeptical.  “I trust you.”

“Good. Not like you have a choice anyways,” You remind him, turning back towards the flame.

“Okay, now this is truly unfair,” Garreth complains, splayed across your settee. “Aunt Tilly is officially my least favorite family member.”

You snort as you sprinkle mallowsweet into your bubbling cauldron. “Because she didn’t show you the Room of Requirement?”

“Yes,” Garreth barks. “You’re telling me I’ve been sneaking into Sharp’s office after hours just to trial potions, meanwhile there’s a perfectly good potions lab in the astronomy tower? Rubbish,” he mutters.  He picks at the piece of your cloak that you’ve tied around his thigh; it’s still bloody, and he looks peakish.

“The blood renewing potion is nearly done,” You assure him, walking away from the cauldron to assess his wound again. “Why do you need the stench of the dead so badly?” you ask, wrinkling your nose as you take off the bloody fabric. “Is it for your potion contest submission?”

Garreth swallows thickly. “Yes,” his voice is careful, trying not to give anything away.  He inhales sharply once the fabric has come off; his wound, despite the wiggenweld, still looks worse for wear. 

“Oh, come off it,” you roll your eyes, waving your wand to summon a fresh roll of linen. “Just tell me what it is. I guarantee you’re going to win anyways.”

Garreth gives you a funny look before bowling his shoulders over, letting out a loud sigh. “I’ve created a bottled tornado,” he admits, wincing as you bandage him up. “Bit of a play on the thunderbrew; you take the potion before entering battle, and you have full control of a windstorm against your enemies.”

“Is that why your hair was so fucked at lunch?” you muse. 

Garreth rolls his eyes. “It looked good, okay?”

The two of you glare into each other’s eyes for the first time in quite a while; after a terse twenty seconds, both of you burst into laughter.  

“Was it that bad?” Garreth wheezes.

You laugh, visibly shuddering. “Not that bad, actually. Those fifth years rather enjoyed it.”

Garreth rolls his eyes. “The most attention I’ve received from any of those girls, ever. Leander has been trying to talk me up to them, find us a double date.”

You’re quiet for a moment, stomach twisting with unfamiliar anxiety at the idea of Garreth and Leander sharing butter beers with those girls. Not that you care, really, but you miss hanging out around the Three Broomsticks every Saturday with Garreth.  He’d been one of your closest friends until the incident at Honeydukes, and then nothing . 

“Is that why you want to win the contest so badly?” You blurt. “For notoriety? Or just attention from the girls?” You joke.

Garreth shakes his head, shaking out his ginger mane like a lion.  Sometimes, you think it’s too fitting that he’s a Gryffindor. “Nah, not for that.”

“What for, then?”

Garreth chews on his lower lip. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

“Uh, no. Just that there’s a lot of them.” You admit, resting your palms on your knees.

“I’m one of seven siblings.” Garreth says, head falling back against a pillow. “There’s Arthur, Benedict, Cornelia, Deirdre, Edwin, Frederick, and myself.” he counts out his siblings on his thick fingers.

“Alphabetical order?” you asked, slightly amused.

Garreth rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes.” Your eyes flit down to his torso; the hem of his shirt has risen, exposing a freckled stomach. You think back to what Sebastian had said–how Garreth had lost his baby fat over the summer, his once soft stomach turning muscled and strong.  You try not to linger on the thatch of red hair trailing down to his waist. 

“Artie, Deirdre, and Freddie played Quidditch for the house team. Cornelia and Edwin were both prefects, and Benedict was head boy.” Garreth explains.

“A successful bunch,” you offer.

“Successful besides me.” Garreth grumbled. “Mum wouldn’t let me hear the end of it when I didn’t get prefect our fifth year.  I’ve always been middling at Quidditch too, so no hopes for the house team.” he says moodily. “Just plain, untalented Garreth. The only thing I'm even remotely good at is brewing a potion, so I've been hoping to win ever since I was a first year.  All my siblings tried, but none have won.  Thought I might get my own name out there, instead of just being the youngest Weasley.” His eyes are glued to the ceiling, but you can tell from the furrow in his brow and hardened jaw that he's frustrated.

You tilt your head, giving him a disapproving look. “I think you’re talented, Garreth.”

“I think you’re talented too,” Garreth points out. “Which is why you’re probably going to win the potion making contest.  Sharp hates me, after all.”

“I think you have a fair shot,” you argue. “You’ve spent all summer working on your potions.”

“Yes, but you’re you.” Garreth fights back. “You’ve had magic for what, a year?  And you’re the most powerful witch I know.” 

“It’s not that easy,” you mumbled under your breath, smoothing down the front of your trousers as you stand.  You step back over to the station; the blood renewing potion has finished, a thick purple sludge that leaves a metallic smell in its wake.  You pull out a clean vial, trying to ladle the necessary amount.

“Everything seems to come easy to you.” Garreth pointed out. “You defeated a troll, took town the goblin rebellion–”

“At what cost, Garreth?” you shout, closing your hand into a tight fist.  “Ow!”

Garreth shoots up, propping up on his hands to peer over at you.  You open your hand, shaking it out–you’ve shattered the vial.  Cursing under your breath, you walk over the wash basin, muttering a quick charm to get the tiny shards of glass out of your hand.

“Let me help,” Garreth pleads, hobbling over towards you.

“Get back on the couch, Gar.” You seethe, pointing across the room.  

Garreth puts his hands up, still shuffling your way.  You wag your hand; it’s still stinging, but it’s just a surface wound. A wiggenweld and a bandage will do just fine.  

“Let me,” Garreth says quietly, his tone soft towards you for the first time in ages. “It’s my fault, after all.”

“It’s not your fault,” You sigh. “It’s me, being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. You’re the furthest thing from stupid.” Garreth assures you. “I meant to say that it was my fault you got caught last year.”

You pause.  Is he really apologizing now?

Garreth takes the roll of linen, wrapping it around your palm. “You were looking for the billywig stings for me,” he says, tearing the linen with his teeth.  He sets down the roll, tying a knot around the bandage in your palm. “I’m the reason you got caught, and you covered for me. Flume could’ve called the aurors for burglary, and I let you take the fall.”

All you’ve wanted for the past six months is for Garreth to own up to his part in you getting all those detentions and losing fifty house points. You feel a little satisfied, but at the same time sad–you could’ve been friends all this time, instead of strangers.  Losing him made the other Gryffindors go icy against you, and it drove you further into Sebastian’s arms.  While you love your other freckled friend to death, you can’t help but wonder what trouble you could’ve avoided had you not felt so isolated. 

The thought overwhelms you, and you burst into a loud sob.  

“What’s wrong?” Garreth panics.

You wipe a tear from your eyes. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing at all.” you blubber.

“It’s clearly not,” Garreth says gently.

“It’s just we’ve been avoiding each other for months,” you take in a shaky breath. “And I’ve missed being your friend.”

Garreth lets out a loud sigh, his hand trailing down to touch your forearm.  It’s hard not to melt into his warm touch.

“I’m sorry,” he admits. “I was being stubborn.  I should’ve apologized ages ago, I’ve missed you too. I was just so intimidated by you, I forgot how to be your friend.”

“Intimidated, by me?” You gape.

Garreth gives you a look, raising his thick eyebrows. “You’re the Hero of Hogwarts,” he waves his free hand. “You only just discovered magic a year ago, and yet you’re at the top of the class.  You’re the best duelist I know; you bloody saved my life tonight.”

“I’m not a hero,” your voice falters. You’re not.  Garreth would be horrified to know what you’ve done–dabbled in dark magic, taken life (even if not by choice). 

“You’re a hero to me,” Garreth murmurs.  

You look into his deep green eyes.  They’re warm and honest; the Garreth you’ve gotten used to has a cold stare, eyes flitting away from yours as fast as possible.  This Garreth makes your stomach flip, but not in an uncomfortable way.  He’d always elicited that reaction from you, from the day you’d met.  Garreth had always been cheerful and cuddly, an arm always tossed around your shoulder as you sat together or fiddling with the hem of your robe.  It had gotten to the point where you might actually believe the rumors that he'd had a crush on you, considering the way his hugs lingered or the way his eyes caught you across the classroom.

For a second, you wonder if he ever actually did have a crush on you.  You also wonder if he still might.

“You should take the potion,” you change the subject, shaking off his grasp.

Garreth obediently sits back down on the settee while you scoop the thick potion into a clean vial.  He looks up at you with a smile as you settle down next to him, as if his leg still isn’t shaking and bloody.  

“Bottoms up,” you press the vial into his hand.

Garreth takes the blood renewing potion, shuddering as the thick sludge passes through his throat.  He shakes out his hair, setting the empty vessel down on the side table.

“How do you feel?” 

“Feeling better already,” Garreth assures you, and you know he’s telling the truth.  His cheeks are reddening, the color flooding back into his face.  You look down at the gauze wrapped around his leg; thanks to the potion, the other healing potions you’d forced him to take are now kicking in. 

“You’re brilliant, you know?” Garreth murmurs. “You’re beautiful, brilliant, and so damn brave. That’s why you’ll win Sharp’s contest.”

“Will you stop saying that?” You snip at him.

Garreth gives you an incredulous look. “It’s a compliment.”

“You don’t realize how much work it is,” you say, fidgeting with your hands in your lap. “To catch up to all of you.  Having this magic, not being able to control it–it doesn’t make any of the day to day any easier.  It seems like there’s always something I have to learn, things I should know by now that I don’t.  I feel like a fraud most of the time.” you admit, tears welling in your eyes.

“Hey, none of that,” Garreth tuts, wiping at your face. “You’re no fraud.  You, my dear, are the real deal.  I’m the one bumbling around, getting scratched up by inferi–”

You shut your eyes, clutching at the hand he’s resting on your face. “I won’t let you talk about yourself like that,” you argue. The thought of Garreth, one of the most clever wizards you know, feeling inferior to his siblings is still fresh in your mind. “You’re marvelous, Garreth.  You’re one of the best potioneers here at school, and you’re going to win.”

“But what about your submission?” His eyebrows are knitted together in confusion.

You shrug. “You need it more than I do–I already have my own space here, and you deserve the recognition.”

Garreth purses his lips together. “I can’t finish mine, unfortunately. Not without the ingredients–”

“Trust me, we have plenty now.” You assure him. “I probably have the rest of what you need here,” you say, scrambling to your feet. You rush back over to the potions stand, conjuring a clean cauldron. “I’m assuming you’re using the same base as a thunderbrew–”

Garreth is over to the potions station in three quick strides, closing the distance between you.  He grabs your wrist, but his touch is soft.

“You’ll really help me?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “Even if I’ve been an absolute prat towards you for the last six months–”

“I think if last year proves anything, I’d do anything for you, Garreth.” You want to look into his eyes, but the moment feels too charged. "You were one of my first friends here, and I care about you."

Garreth’s eyes flit down to your lips. “As a friend?” The question hangs heavy between the two of you.

You shake your head. “Yes...but also, no. Not just as a friend.” you say slowly, hoping he'll understand.

Garreth doesn’t release his grip; his fingers move down, tangling with yours.  He takes a step closer and you can feel his hot breath on your cheek.  You look up at him, opening your mouth to say anything , but you don’t get the chance.  Garreth’s lips crash against yours in a tender kiss, the pad of his thumb running over the back of your hand.  You tilt your head up a bit too eagerly, your teeth clacking against his.

Garreth pulls away, and you’re momentarily mortified until he descends back upon you, this time wrapping his arms around your waist tugging you close.  Your hands are in his hair, grasping at the copper locks you’ve spent the last six months eyeing.  It’s just as soft as you thought it would be.  Sighing into his touch, you can tell the freckled boy is smiling against your mouth from the curve of his chin.  His tongue glides against your bottom lip and you grant him access, warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach as the kiss deepens.  You want more, even if you're being greedy.  You don’t want any distance between the two of you whatsoever anymore.  

Garreth pulls away and you whine at the loss of him.  He presses his forehead against yours, looking quite bashful.  The look in his eyes says everything you need to know for now.

I’m sorry.

I’ve missed you.

I have feelings for you.

“Should we get to brewing?” you ask breathlessly, gesturing down to the empty cauldron.

“Let’s. I want to get it out of the way–I think the two of us have some more catching up to do.” Garreth teases, his hands hovering over your waist.

You grin, turning your attention down to the cauldron. Garreth’s warm body encases yours from behind, listing off all the ingredients and their exact ratios.  His chin lands against your shoulder, breath tickling your ear as he whispers the instructions. It's only after he presses his lips against the nape of your neck that you slam the chopping knife down, hands shaking.

“If you keep this up, we’ll never finish.” You warn him.

Garreth’s chuckle sends a shiver up your spine. “Fine, fine.” he sighs, pressing a kiss against your cheek as he steps away. “I’ll observe some personal space for now, but the moment we’re done…” his voice trails off. “I’d like to kiss you again.”

You swat at him, rolling your eyes as he starts chopping mandrake leaves. The air in the Room of Requirement feels thick, charged with the tension between the two of you as you take turns stirring the altered thunderbrew. Before long, the cauldron is emitting sparks of lightning and gusts of wind, indicating your success.

“Back to catching up?” Garreth asks, chewing on his bottom lip as he bottles the brew.  As soon as the potion is stowed away safely, you nod, and the redhead wastes no time taking you back to the settee.

You never did manage to have the time to come up with your own potion.  Garreth had insisted on working through the night to help you come up with your own submission, just so he could win fair and square, but you'd shrugged him off.  You'd only entertained the idea of entering to compete with him in the first place.  Besides, you would rather save the precious time in the Room of Requirement for other activities.

Professor Sharp had just announced the winner of the potion brewing contest before the bell rang.  In a tired, yet unsurprised tone, Sharp announces that Garreth has won by a landslide.  The class is roaring and chanting for him; Sharp is perturbed that he’ll have to grant the budding potioneer access to his classroom and store cabinet after hours.  Nevertheless, Garreth’s name is quickly etched into a little silver tag that will be added to the plaque in the trophy room, and class is dismissed.

“I can’t believe you bungled up your potion.” Sebastian shakes his head, slipping the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

You shrug, clutching your books against your chest. “Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“I was really hoping you’d put Weasley in his place,” Sebastian mumbles.  

You turn your head over your shoulder, eyes immediately locking with Garreth’s.  He’s standing over his cauldron, sprinkling ashwinder egg shells into the vessel as he smiles at you.  His cheeks are a bit flushed–you’re not sure if it's from the heat of the cauldron, or from the memory of the kisses you’d shared in the Room of Requirement after finishing his contest submission.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Seb.” You assure him. “I think I’ll be putting him in his place much more often now.”

Sebastian doesn’t catch on to your innuendo, shrugging as you pass through the door.  “Fancy meeting Ominis for lunch?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “I”ll catch you both later.  I think I left my quill behind.”

Once Sebastian is past the corner and out of view, you turn back around, slipping into the potions classroom.  You were hoping for a moment alone with Garreth, but Leander’s whinging cuts the silence.  

“The two of you couldn’t stop staring at each other all period,” Leander shakes his head. “What’s going on?”

Casting a quick disillusionment charm, you slip into the store room, leaving the wooden door slightly ajar to watch the boys interact.

“Don’t worry about it, Lee.” Garreth assures him, waving his wand to rinse out his cauldron.

“Are the two of you friends again?” Leander asks. “Sallow must be pissed.”

You shuffle forward, trying to get a better look at the two of them.

“He’ll get over it,” Garreth laughs, picking up his cauldron to stack it against the rest. His shirt is rolled up above his elbows, and you bite down on your lower lip as you watch the muscles in his forearms flex.

“I knew you’d win,” Leander snorts. “You’re the best in class, everyone knows it.  You deserved it.  But honestly, I’m surprised she didn’t even enter.”

“I know,” Garreth shrugs. “But she’s smart too.  Quick as a whip, hell of a duelist.  I don’t think we ever thank her enough for what she’s done.” 

Leander scoffs. “Why are you kissing her arse? Oh no, don’t tell me you have a crush on her again.” he complains, rolling his eyes.

Garreth chuckles, walking back over to the station to pick up his book bag.  “Crush on her?  Mate, I’m going to marry that girl someday.”

Your heart stops for a moment, cheeks aflame.  Garreth had confessed his feelings to you in the Room of Requirement, after the two of you had to drag yourselves apart at the risk of taking things too far. Now that you were back in his life, he assured you that there was little chance of him ever letting you get too far away again.  You’d agreed wholeheartedly then, but your mind hadn’t even gotten to the idea of life post-school. 

Marriage .  Marriage to Garreth Weasley.  The thought of it is comfortable, like a worn in sweater or a cup of tea.  You can imagine waking up every morning to his lips pressed against your neck, encased in his warm embrace. 

Yes, you might like that.  

Even though you have a disillusionment charm on, you swear Garreth is looking straight at you through the crack in the doorway.  He has a dreamy, faraway look on his face, one that makes you want to barrel out the door and tackle him to the ground right now.

“Now you really sound like you’ve been confunded,” Leander laughs. “You’re sixteen, Gar.”

“It’s more than that.” Garreth says fondly. “I know it is.”

“Whatever you say,” Leander snorts, heading towards the door. “Coming to lunch?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Garreth echoes.  

You hear Leander grumbling to himself, his footsteps becoming quieter as he gets further away from the classroom.  Finally, you hear nothing at all except the familiar hum of the boisterous Gryffindor boy you’ve been itching to spend time with all day.

The door flies open and Garreth reaches out, tapping your shoulder.  It disarms your disillusionment charm, and you blink up at him in shock.  He’s still beaming, a toothy grin accompanied by freckled rosy cheeks.  Before you know it, the door is shutting behind you, and he’s backed you into the shelf.  The taller boy has you pinned against it, muttering a quick locking charm before he slips his wand into his back pocket.

“I hope you heard me,” Garreth murmurs, brushing hair out of your face.

“I did,” you stammer. “You’re mad, Garreth Weasley.”

Garreth grins broadly, his hair falling against your forehead as he presses his body into yours.

“Maybe,” he sings. “But you heard me.  When you know, you know.”

You have no complaints. With Garreth wrapped around you, sixth year might not be so daunting. 

[writingfromasgard]

I absolutely love dustball!!!! The perfect amount of unhinged imo. I like to think that no one (except Price) knows when her birthday is, so they all kinda just pick a day for her and leave birthday gifts/offerings in vents. I'm thinking a headlamp, batteries, and a ball of yarn along with a printed copy of Theseus and the Minotaur (the last one being tongue-in-cheek)

What gifts does Dustball accept or deny? If she lives in the vents, she must have to choose carefully.

Ehehehe. You're right. Price is the only one who knows her true birthday. Laswell, too. They're both too mischievous with each other to ruin her fun.

The confusion comes from her popping into a room after Roach. There's a cake that's clearly not a birthday cake that Roach gives her and she goes, "Fuck yeah, just in time for my birthday."

She says it every time she gets handed cake (a slice, a whole cake, a snack cake). It's resulted in people starting a 'Dustball's Birthday' calendar. People mark down the day they heard her say it. By the end of the year, they're confused. Every month has at least ten marks. A few weeks have been entirely crossed out but they are in different months that are far apart.

As far as "presents", that's on par. Especially batteries. Laptop batteries, rechargeable batteries, a power bank. She leaves dead ones in exchanged for fully changed ones. She keeps some of the more unusual things people leave in her assigned quarters - a weird sculpture, a sketch of a vent with eyeballs, a photocopy of a random rookie's ass.

For the 'choose carefully' ask.. yes, she has to be mindful of what she takes. Perishables are almost always out of the question. She has to eat 'smelly' (according to higher ups) food outside of vents since the smell of what she's cooking or eating tends to spread. That one time she wanted kimchi stew...

[theoutcastrogue]

I need to share this. (@st-just : hearty gruel alert!)

Red lentils. Boil them in a pot all by themselves, with salt, until soft. Skim the Bad Foam (or first wash them many times, until the water's clear). Set them aside.

Take a big skillet, and sauté in medium heat garlic with cumin, coriander seeds, mustard seeds, and ginger. Grate a tomato in there (or however you add tomato in sauces), add fresh parsley or coriander, and stir.

Drop in the red lentils with water, tumeric, lemon juice, AND TAHINI. Mix them together, let them cook for a few minutes more, stir until done. Adjust texture to taste basically, it's up to you if you'll eat with a fork or with a spoon.

Now serve. In the middle of the gruel, plop a spoonful of strained yoghurt, and slice some raw red onion around it. Drizzle some olive oil/lemon on top. Ready? CHARGE.

hot lentils (sans parsley, I was out) served in gruel form, a hearty meal for 1

Numbers (approximate), for 2 people

pot:

200 gr red lentils

7 minutes boiling

salt to taste

skillet:

2 cloves of garlic

1 teaspoon cumin

1/2 teaspoon coriander seeds

1/2 teaspoon mustard seeds

1/2 teaspoon ground ginger [I don't actually KNOW numbers for the spices, I'm eyeballing this; do what you will]

1 big tomato

salt and pepper to taste

+2 minutes stirring

skillet with the lentils:

~1/2 cup water (IF you've strained the lentils; I empty most but not all of the water from the pot, and then unceremoniously plop the whole thing in there)

1 teaspoon tumeric

4 tablespoons tahini

1/2 lemon

8 minutes cooking total

per serving:

1 hefty tablespoon yoghurt

1/2 small red onion

olive oil and lemon to taste

Feel free to play around with spices and seasoning. The only essential ingredients are the lentils, oil+tomato+cumin, and tahini+lemon.

It's completely feasible with brown lentils, except they take longer to boil. Basically this recipe combines the standard "brown lentils + tahini" with "red lentils + a bunch of spices".

If you have iron deficiency, the dairy will inhibit the iron absorption from the lentils, so either skip the yoghurt, or decide you're eating this because it's delicious, and not because it's good for your blood.

cold lentils ~8 hours later, now in spread-ish form, kinda like hummus. reheating not necessary, fantastic mezze for 2. lasts in the fridge for 3-4 days (just let it out to acquire room temperature first, and serve with yoghurt and onions again).

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Bread Debut: Miitopia

Hey, everyone, look! It's Bread! Did you know? Bread is the best thing since sliced bread. Some of you might argue that Bread is sliced bread but consider: Bread is an enemy in a Video's Game. Can sliced bread say that? I didn't think so.

Bread is one of the very first enemies encountered in Peculia, and from this first encounter, the theme of the world becomes immediately apparent: Funny! Yes the game has been funny up to this point, but this is the Funny world, so they need to show you some especially funny enemies to make that clear. Enter Bread! And also Running Nose, who is also delightful and might get its own post someday.

But not today, Buster! Today is Bread's time to shine! Despite how wacky it is, Bread is a pretty standard enemy. All it can do is float up to you and tackle you. Nary a Special Attack to be seen! But that's okay, I think. Even without any condiments, Bread adds flavor to the game! Unless the eyeballs count as a condiment? Maybe if you're Shrek.

For some reason, the Miitopia Wiki has these descriptions for every enemy that don't exist anywhere in-game and are completely made up. Personally I think we shouldn't be insulting the Darker Lord for using their imagination. I think it was an inspired choice of them to make Bread into an enemy. Some of us would benefit from taking each others' eyes and putting them on random everyday objects to create new and exciting monsters. You know, for perspective. Maybe one of us can even become the living forks in Miitopia 2!

Now, as you're probably aware, Miitopia is an RPG, and every good RPG's bread and butter is introducing Stronger Color Variations. But alas, Miitopia does not have Buttered Bread, nor does it have Wheat Bread, Burnt Bread, or Very Lightly Toasted Bread...

...Because it goes above and beyond!

Meet Ham Sandwich! More than a mere Stronger Color Variation, Ham Sandwich not only gets two slices of grilled bread, but also Ham and Cheese! And lettuce. There's also lettuce.

Unlike Bread, Ham Sandwich does in fact get a Special Attack, called Wide Attack, which as the name implies, is a Wide Attack that can hit three Miis at once.

...Okay, it's not really that special, but is getting attacked by Ham Sandwich not special enough for you already? You gotta savor the occasion.

But remember to make room for dessert! Today's dessert? A Bread Sandwich! This is "Traveler" Bread, which takes the Dugtrio approach of giving us three slices of Bread at once! The more, the merrier, I say! And if that wasn't enough for you, "Traveler" Bread is a BOSS FIGHT!

Traveler Bread takes a page out of Ham Sandwich's book, once again getting the Wide Attack, but unlike Ham Sandwich, it gets TWO turns, meaning it can hit three Miis at twice! And that's it really. A small change to the Bread formula, sure, but it's okay. It's hard to improve upon perfection.

And that's it for the post. BEGONE!