#the language nerd in me just jumped out here

[st4rymoon]

✧𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: 𝐓𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 [sorry for the hold up I’ve been so busy this month 😭 it’s not even October anymore but just pretend like it is]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: switch Miguel, p in v, unprotected sex, manhandling, size kink, Miguel is a slut for thighs, slight argument with reader and her mom, subby Miguel, nerd Miguel, teasing, language, pet names, soft dom miguel, flirting, sexual tension

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really hate your mom right now. You told her about your struggle in chemistry and now here you were. Apparently to her, her best friends brother happens to be an expert in everything.

“You know he can be some sort of killer right? You just GAVE HIM MY ADDRESS?” You yelled into the phone. “Yeah yeah, I’ve met him hundreds of times! You remember him don’t you?” She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean you should give him my damn address mom. What the hell are you thinking” you seethed.

You remember him somewhat, well when you saw him last you were in your early teens. He was just a year older than you and annoyed the hell out of you. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’ll be there in 30” your mom ended the phone call leaving you in anger.

What in her right mind would lead her to giving him your address? Maybe if you leave now you can make an excuse, Right? No. You know your mom would tease you about this if you left.

You fixed yourself up and sat on the couch, watching your usual binge worthy show while waiting for Einstein to show up at your front door.

You tensed as you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, you could see the a broad chest with backpack straps on their back. God how tall is this guy?

You opened the door and see the once messy haired short teen you once knew now a complete behemoth of a man. His shirt hugging his thick arms and chest while some grey sweats hugged around his waist.

His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, dark messy wavy hair, chiseled jaw, god he looked like a Greek god.

Miguel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly as he saw you, he definitely didn’t remember you like this either. His eyes instinctively moved to your plump thighs as your shorts rode up high. Your thigh high socks definitely didn’t help.

He cleared his throat in hopes to snap himself out of it but you caught yourself before he could “Miguel right?” You smiled. “Ye- yeah, yeah” he nodded “Your mom gave me your address? I told her it might be a little weird if I just showed up but she wouldn’t take no for an answer” he chuckled awkwardly.

“That sounds like my mother, if your busy and all you don’t need to worry about it”

“I don’t have anything going on, but hey I’m already here right? Might as well?” He joked. The atmosphere was tense but you couldn’t help but invite him in “come in” you smiled and gave him space to walk in.

Miguel’s eyes scanned through your apartment, clean and tidy which he liked “So you’re struggling with Chem right?” He hummed as he turned back to look at you.

His breath hitched as he saw you bend down to get a few waters from the mini-fridge. Your ass was in perfect display as the flimsy white socks hugged the back of your thighs. His eyes flew down to his feet as you stood up and walked towards him.

You were unaware of his eyes lingering on you. You sat besides him, as you pulled out some of your work. “I’m struggling with these conversions” you sighed as you stared down at your insufferable homework.

When you looked up at Miguel you swear you could’ve jumped onto him and kissed him.

He was staring down at you, his eyes already on yours as he nodded. His body slumped slight towards you, close enough to feel how warm he was “What’s the thing that’s confusing?” He hummed.

You stuttered as you explained it to him. He nodded and started his teaching. You didn’t know how long you were studying, it flew by surprisingly fast and helped the tension disappear.

“I need a break” you whined as you slammed the book in annoyance “I think you deserved one” Miguel laughed as he placed the books back onto the table.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while” you smiled, sitting on your thighs now and body completely facing him. “I- I’ve been good. A lot of studying per usual”

“How about you? You definitely aren’t the same person I remember” Miguel joked “stressed as always and same here, I definitely didn’t expect this new you. I mean I remember the annoying freshman Miguel” you teased.

“New me?” He chuckled “I mean you grew like 10 ft and look like a damn super hero” you chuckled. Miguel felt himself heat up at your compliment. Surprisingly, he didn’t get many.

Maybe it was because he was a hermit most of the time but it took him by surprise “Thanks” he nervously chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned your body in a way that told you what he was thinking, you chuckled as he cleared his throat once he noticed you looking at him.

“So you live near here?” You hummed, Miguel nodded with his mouth slightly agar as you curled up your thighs onto your chest, slightly exposing your plump cunt through your shorts. “Ye- yeah I do, about 20 minutes” he nodded.

“It’s a surprise that we go to the same university yet I’ve never seen you” Miguel try’s his best to not make things awkward. “Different schedule’s, the campus is huge” you teased.

You could read Miguel like a book, it was cute. He was nervous despite being older than you and the obvious size difference. He was fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to not eye fuck you right now.

“You’re really trying hard not to check me out” you chuckled as you noticed him glare down at your tits “I- no I wasn’t I was-“ he stuttered. “Don’t worry, you're a nice piece of eye candy too” you cooed.

You could see his chest rising with every breath, every inch you scooted the heavier he breathed “why are you so nervous?” You cooed. “Im not” miguel replied, his eyes his glued onto yours ”sure”

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you pouted. Miguel really hated you right now. He was a gentleman and always contained himself. But seeing you tease him in your pretty pjs was getting to him. “What a shame” he whispered as his finger softly ghosted past your leg.

You perked up at the comment, what a shame? You watched as his fingers slowly rubbed up your skin. A whine escaped your lips as he pulled back, his eyes shooting up at the sound.

Miguel couldn’t help it, he leaned and kissed you. He had no idea why he did it, he isn’t the type to do these things but fuck did it feel good.

You jumped onto his lap, both of you messily kissing each other after a few hours of seeing each other. Miguel was panting, whining in your mouth as he felt your tits pressing against him.

His thumbs circled your hips as he softly runts his hips up into you “you feel so good” Miguel hummed as your lips latched onto his neck.

Miguel’s eyes were trained on your thighs, he watched them grind onto his sides as he bucked ups hips up. He watched them giggle as he fucked himself into you fully clothed.

Miguel was putty in your hands, he whined and squirmed as you pressed your body against his, hands tangled into his hair as he sat back in ecstasy. “Please” he whispered, your head shot up “yeah?” You cooed.

“Take ‘em off” he quietly spoke as he tugged at your shorts. You chuckled, obeying his wishes and kicked off your shorts. Miguel let out a pathetic whine as he saw you weren’t wearing any panties, your pussy on full view as you straddled back onto him.

“You gonna take these off? Or am I doing all the work?” You mocked as you ran your hands up his thighs. He nodded dumbly as he held you up to his chest with his arm as the other tugged his sweats off.

You were practically salivating at the sight of his cock spring out of his tightly fitted boxers. He was huge in every fucking way. “You won’t be doing the work”’he whispered into your ear as he hugged you onto his chest.

His lips latched onto your neck as he buried himself under your chin, sloppily licking and biting his way up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he pulled you in for a kiss with a fist full of your hair in hand.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of his cock rubbing between your folds, sticky slick coating him as he watched your body reacting to his.

You let out a yelp as he man handled you onto your back, his hands instinctively lifting your plump thighs onto your chest as he watched your pussy glistening in slick. He let out an animalistic moan as his eyes trailed up your thighs and to your face.

Your glossy eyes staring up at him as the flimsy material of your socks hugged the back of your thighs and pussy in full view would make anyone in their right mind lose their mind.

“God you’re so fucking pretty” he hummed as he fisted his cock and his tip dragged it through your folds with a smile on his face.

You were taken back by the way he looked above you, the guy who was under your spell a few minute’s ago now towering over you like he’s about to ruin you was driving you crazy.

“Please” you whined as he continued his teasing. He smiled, one of his thick hands rubbing up your thigh as he nodded “no more teasing” he cooed.

You let out a whine as he pushed himself inside you, his fat tip already bullying it’s way inside. “oh fu- oh my!” You moaned as he seethed, his eyes watching the way you hugged his cock, your needy pussy taking him greedily.

“Fuckkk…. Ah- fu-“ he hummed as he began to thrust his hips, one hand holding your legs onto your chest and the holding himself up for a better position.

You gripped onto his hand as he picked up the pace, his hand wrapping to hold yours as he let your legs fall to his sides and give you a sloppy kiss. The both of you moaned into each other as he slammed into your pussy.

You bounced roughly along with his hard long slams, you sunk into the cushions as his body weight had you caged under him “m- m- ah Miguel” you dumbly spoke.

Miguel chuckled in response, watching you already cock drunk by a few thrusts “I know baby, feels so good huh?” He cooed. You squeeze his hand harder as he hooked your legs around his waist, giving him more leeway to slam into you.

The couch was creaking loudly as he pounded you into oblivion, the noise complaints you’d be getting later this week were the least of your worries as both your moans filled the living room.

“F- feels so good mhm ah- fuck” Miguel panted as he felt you pulsing around him. You scratched at his thick arms that held you in place, your face turning into his bicep that was pressed besides you.

You moaned into him as your orgasm filled all of your senses, you shook uncontrollably under him as he angled his hips up, curving his cock perfectly inside you.

He felt himself dumbly smiling as he watched you squirm and gushing under him. He loved how fucking small you looked right now. Your pretty little face buried in his arm as he fucked your pussy like a madman. “So fucking pretty” he huffed as he felt himself twitch inside you, his moans filling your ears as he fucked his loads inside you.

You moaned at the feeling of everything, you were so overwhelmed by pleasure. His cock buried inside you, his pretty moans filling your ears, and his warm body pressed closely onto yours.

Miguel almost crushed you as he orgasmed but before he could, his arm quickly flipped you over. He sunk into the cushion as he placed you above him. Your head fell onto his chest as he grunted in bliss, cock still buried in you.

You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out softly, his hands running over your skin as if you were made of glass. He made sure to be gentle as he sat up, his sweaty body pressed onto yours as his hand ran down your hair “you ok?” He cooed.

You nodded with a smile on your face, his hand lifting your face and kissing you softly “so much for chemistry”

[squinch-depraved]

PLEASE PLEASE cnc lc!schlatt

nothing like going through lunch club vids and sobbing :3

this takes place during this video, reader ate a nerds rope after seeing ted have one and schlatt takes advantage

not sure if this was your vision but it was mine so

CW: cnc, dubcon, intox, degrading, breeding kink, afab!reader

the realization of how much weed you had just ingested hit you like a ton of bricks. you turned your head to look at ted, who was staring back at you, his wide eyes a mirror of yours. he would probably be somewhat okay, you decided. he was a big guy, 400 mg would be rough, sure, but he'd survive. but you, smaller than him by far, were supremely fucked. beyond fucked, actually. you had eaten a whole nerds rope on an empty stomach and were frantically looking around someone you could trust to help you stay grounded.

it's not that you didn't trust your friends; they were (mostly) good guys, you thought. but not all of them were the type of guy you wanted around to guard you in the state you were destined to be in. eventually your eyes settled on schlatt, leaning against a wall across the room and watching you with an intrigued look in his dark eyes.

you stood up after finishing your conversation with ted about how screwed the two of you were and walked over to schlatt. he didn't say anything, just kept his eyes on you, even when you got close enough to him that he was looking directly down at you.

"i need help," you asked quietly, voice trembling.

he snorted, and the hot air from his nose that hit your face made your legs weak. "i'll fuckin' say," he taunted.

"schlatt, please. can you just help me through this? i'm genuinely scared and it's already starting to kick in."

he inspected your expression carefully, and, finding that the fear was, in fact, authentic, softened his gaze. "you know i'm the worst person here to ask that of." he sounded bitter.

"i promise you, you aren't," you sighed wearily.

schlatt was quiet for a moment, contemplating the situation. finally, he let out a long breath, shaking his head and looking around before turning back to peer down at you. "only if you let me hit," he said quietly.

you were stunned. "wh... what?" you leaned in a bit, unsure of if you heard him correctly.

"you heard me. only if you let me fuck you," he bargained. "whenever i want, wherever i want, let me hit and i'll be your fuckin' guard dog for the night or whatever it is you want." he couldn't fathom why you would ask him to be responsible for your well-being, but he'd be damned if he didn't take advantage of the situation while he could. he'd been waiting so long to fuck you, and if this was how it had to be, then fine.

you agreed a lot quicker and more eagerly than he thought you would. "y-yeah!! sure, whenever, wherever, as many times as you want, whatever, schlatt," you replied nervously. "please can we just go sit down and watch a movie?"

as many times as i want? was the only thing running through his mind as you grabbed his hand and led him to a room with a tv, putting on some film you enjoyed before curling up on the couch. he stood behind you for a bit but soon you reached up and tugged at his sweater.

"c'mere, please," you asked sweetly. he rolled his eyes and stepped around to sit next to you. the way he sat was stiff, as if he was trying not to get too close to you. unfortunately, you didn't notice the way he jumped when you shifted so that you could lay your head on his lap. you also had grabbed his arm and brought it around to hold you. this is not guard dog duty, he thought to himself. he tried to ignore how much he enjoyed having you on him like this.

eventually, ted found his way to the couch with you guys, and the two of you interacted in your own little language, high out of your minds, until the third movie in a row had ended and you were both passed out. schlatt decided that you looked uncomfortable, and picked you up over his shoulder to carry you to his bedroom.

the rough grab and toss over his collarbone woke you up, but you were so far gone that you just let out an, "urnnngh," and stayed limp. he smirked slightly at the prospect of you being this helpless and threw you roughly onto the middle of the bed. this time, you were roused from your haze, and you began to complain before schlatt interrupted you.

"shh, shh, y/n, it's okay. it's me. it's schlatt, remember?" he climbed onto the bed, hovering over you. looking down at how pathetic you were, pupils blown out, face flushed, unable to hide how bad you wanted him... he almost felt bad for how he was about to treat you. "'whenever, wherever, as many times as i want,' wasn't that it?" he chuckled.

you swallowed hard, finding it a lot harder to breathe with him positioned over you like this. he wasn't even putting any pressure on your chest; he just made you that nervous. "i trust you," you whispered dreamily. the way you looked at him made him feel sick. pure adoration in your eyes and he was going to ruin you, he really should treat you to a nice dinner sometime. maybe afterward he could love you right, but tonight was about taking advantage where he could.

he started by unzipping your jacket, carefully peeling it off you as he spoke. "i think, that's the problem, though, isn't it? you really, really shouldn't." you just continued to stare at him, processing what was happening eons after things were occurring. "i've had my eye on you for months, and now, here you are, stupid enough to get so high you can't think straight, and you come to me to protect you? god, i don't know what i did to deserve this, but it musta been good."

you whimpered as he sat you up just enough to take off your top, quickly throwing your bra somewhere before immediately diving to take one of your breasts in his mouth. his eyes fell closed as he let out a small groan in pleasure, and you tangled your fingers in his hair while staring up at the ceiling through lidded eyes.

"fuck, of course your tits are perfect," he grumbled, moving to suck on the other one and kneading the one that was just in his mouth. "y'know, you'd be so hot pregnant? tits all fuckin' fat 'n full of milk, my kids in your belly... maybe i should cum in you tonight, huh?" he glanced at your face to watch as you worked through what he said and smirked when you realized. "yeah.. maybe i should breed you over and over until there's no chance of you not poppin' me out a babe in nine months. ya want that?"

you nodded as aggressively as you could in your stupor, earning a soft snort from him. "you are fuckin' pathetic, you know that?" he spat down onto your face, flecking your admiring expression with his saliva.

"only for you," you giggled. schlatt groaned and rubbed himself through his pants for a moment before peeling off your bottoms and spreading you open, smacking your pussy when you started to mewl complaints of "why am i naked and you still have all your clothes on?" you yelped and brought your hands up to cup your breasts, taking one nipple in between your fingers and playing with it. he tried not to watch you for too long, not wanting to be distracted from your pussy, which he finally had the opportunity to bury his face in, but the sight of you playing with yourself like that as you stared at him was something he couldn't tear his eyes from.

after a bit, he took a deep breath and blinked a few times, zoning back in before pressing kisses to the inside of your thighs. when he finally made his way to your core, he moaned louder than you did. the taste of you on his tongue, the way you pulled on his hair, and the feeling of your legs locking around his head were enough to have him cumming in his pants before he could even get you close. you felt his face heat up as he began eating you more passionately, most likely from embarrassment.

it took a bit, but he figured it out, and soon you were squirting all over his face, ruining the bedspread. he pulled away and looked at you like he had just solved a puzzle. you would guess later, thinking back on this moment whenever you were sober, that it was his first time giving oral. it was impressive, most guys don't get it that fast.

once he caught his breath, he wiped his mouth, shiny with your slick, on his sweater sleeve. "goddamn, you stupid fuckin' slut," he panted. "i'm supposed to sleep here tonight."

mumbling apologies, you reached out your hands and made grabbing motions, trying to signal that you needed affection from him. but he just laughed cruelly at your pitiful gesture.

"this isn't like that, doll. i'm doing my part, i'm keeping you safe from the other guys, but that doesn't mean i'm gonna kiss you or whatever the fuck it is you want," he said as he undid his pants. "you're safe from them, but not from me." his eyes tore right through you as he said it, and for the first time that night since hearing how much weed you ingested, you felt fear. he slid the dark jeans down his thighs, taking them off and dropping them onto the floor beside the bed. he was left in his sweater and his grey boxers, which you had just noticed a wet stain on the front of. the thought of him finishing just from eating you out elicited a moan from you, and he chuckled lowly as he pulled the shorts off.

you actually felt the air leave your lungs at the sight of his cock. the tip was messy, cum sticking to it and just begging to be licked off. it was big enough to scare you; you were unsure of if it would all fit without hurting too bad. schlatt watched you take in the full image of him with hungry eyes, letting you have a moment to freak out before moving to sit between your thighs.

he lined himself up with your hole easily, and positioned himself over you so he could look down at you as he slid in. he thought the expressions you made as you sucked in every last inch of him were incredibly hot, savoring the small noises before instructing, "if you're too loud, everyone's gonna hear you. and they're gonna know what i'm doing to you. so i need you to shut the fuck up, do you understand me?" he stared you down, waiting for your answer.

you hesitated a moment before nodding. schlatt just reached up and smacked you.

"use your fucking words," he growled through gritted teeth.

"yes! schlatt, yes, i'll be quiet for you," you whispered frantically.

"good." and with that, he started moving. his hips worked at a steady rhythm, and he bent your legs back after a bit. soon, he decided he wanted them over his shoulders, and once he did that, he hit a spot so deep inside you that you couldn't hold in your wails.

"fuck!!! schlatt, oh my god, please..." you babbled. you were cut off by his hand reaching and seizing your throat.

"i told you to shut the fuck up!" he said, choking you tightly.

your eyes began to flutter and roll back in your head, and he finally let go. when your vision focused again, you swore the sight of him leaning over you as he rolled his hips against yours was the most attractive thing you had ever seen.

you started to moan again, causing him to scoff and cover your mouth with his hand. apparently, the visual of that did something to him, because soon he was rutting his hips faster and faster, screwing his eyes shut and tilting his head back before slamming into you with an immense amount of force and moving to bite down on your shoulder as he spilled inside of you for the first time. he had you bent nearly in half like this, but it felt so damn good.

after a bit of him breathing heavily on top of you, he sat up and moved your legs so you wouldn't be in as much pain. you noticed he was careful not to pull out, though, keeping you plugged with his cock so his seed wouldn't leak out.

the two of you looked at each other, studying the other's face and trying to puzzle through what this was until he was hard again. and then, he was going at you once more.

this time he quickly spun you around and slammed back into you, perching you on your hands and knees for him. once you were positioned right, he was thrusting, grabbing a handful of your hair and smacking your ass every few seconds.

schlatt had given up trying to keep you quiet, and now was warming up to the idea of everyone in this area of the house hearing the abuse coming from his room. he made a game out of it, trying to see how loud he could get you to scream.

the answer was really loud. you were audible across the entire building, and it didn't help when you started repeating his name over and over. or maybe it did, because it spurred him to go even rougher, which ended up making you squirt again. he groaned animalistically at being soaked in your juices and brought his hand down onto your rear end even harder.

"'m gonna cum again," he said breathlessly, in disbelief that you were milking him like this. "three fuckin' orgasms, god, you don't know what you do to me," his raspy voice spoke.

"gimme, please, i need your load inside me," you begged, cheek flush against the mattress.

schatt groaned, a long, deep noise, and shot his hips forward one last time before cumming inside you again. he collapsed on top of you again, pinning you face down underneath him with his dick still in you.

when he got up, he immediately grabbed his phone to take a video of his cum spilling out of your hole before helping you.

he ended up taking care of you, he helped you shower and got you to sleep in his bed. it was just so that nobody would mess with you, that's what he told himself. not because he wanted you around. not because the thought of being apart from you now made him feel ill. nah, you just asked him to guard you, that's all it was. right?

[hannie-dul-set]

나비 / NABI — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, alcohol consumption, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries. WORD COUNT. 9k (out of 40k).

NOTE. hehe...it’s here. this first part is a little short and slow, but things are gonna start picking up from here! please let me know what you think so far 😭😭 half my soul was injected into writing the entirety of this i will never be the same again 💔 also, i recommend listening to beomgyu’s covers while reading this and the upcoming chapters HAHA anyhow, please enjoy!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims. 

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom of the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. He turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air because you’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still. It’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well. 

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer.

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?” 

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

#1: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. It’s eight in the morning. Monday. You’re standing in front of Choi Beomgyu’s door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s the start of your summer semester so you thought you ought to make something healthy just to kick things off on a good note, but as you were scavenging ingredients for fried rice, you realized you were out of salt so that’s why you’re here. You knock on his door again, three times, and you manage to finish watching five more Instagram reel clips before Beomgyu finally answers the door.

Creak.

“Took you long eno—”

You’re caught off guard by the mop of shaggy hair greeting you, clearly having just woken up. His eyebrows are knitted together while he lets out a yawn. He’s in a tank top. It rides up a little when he stretches his arm to reach for an itch on his back.

“What?” he rasps with a grunt, squinting at you after he’s finally settled himself into reality. “Why the hell are you up so early?”

You clear your throat. “Got any salt?”

Beomgyu blinks at you, processing your words. Then he steps back, points a thumb towards his kitchen, and nudges his head in the same direction. “Go crazy.”

With that, Beomgyu lets you monopolize his kitchen cupboards while he flops onto the sofa. You laugh seeing him practically melt into the cushions. He’s never been a morning person. You’re pretty sure he fell asleep like three hours ago.

“I’m gonna steal some of your chives too,” you inform. Beomgyu makes a muffled noise that you assume is a yes, so you go ahead and take the liberty. When you pop out of his kitchen area, you see him in a not very spine-healthy posture on the same sofa while scrolling through his phone. “I’ll drop off some bokkeumbap later.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flit up from his phone and he wiggles into a more normal position. “Do you have plans today?”

“Class,” you answer on your way back out.

“It’s summer?” he says. “Did your dumb ass get your calendars mixed up?”

You roll your eyes, stopping right before the door with your hand on the knob and turn your head to face him. “I thought I could use the early credits so I won’t have to take too many classes in my fourth year. So I could focus on my internship and all.”

There’s a pause. You can see the three dots slowly appearing in succession above Beomgyu’s bedhead. “Oh,” he says. There’s a drop in his voice. Only for a second. “Well, have fun, nerd.”

You stick your tongue out and leave his apartment with your borrowed goods, returning once more after you’ve finished cooking to give him a portion. Honestly, without the food your moms send over, you’re pretty sure he’d be living exclusively off of takeout.

Anyhow, you head to campus for your first summer lecture, and— for the first time god knows how long— your entire day is spent with a lingering, and almost unusual echo of quiet.

“That’s it for our syllabus. We’ll be starting our full swing of classes next week. See you.”

When you exit the lecture hall, the hallway is near empty. The courtyard too, with only a few students littered about underneath the midday sun. It’s so quiet, it’s weird. Around this time, you’d usually be having lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong, sometimes Beomgyu, sometimes Heeseung, but that brat’s not around right now either because he’s on vacation. 

Not having anything to do, you decide to stop by the campus cafe— Horangnabi. You don’t go here often, committed to the shop near your apartment because, well, it’s more convenient for your morning coffees, but you weren’t able to grab one earlier since you cooked breakfast. Might as well get a latte before you leave campus.

“Hi, welcome!”

You’re greeted by the barista, and like most of campus, it’s pretty empty inside as well. "A spanish latte, please. Iced.” While making your order, a sign on the counter catches your eye.

Part-timers, now hiring. You blink, letting it settle for a moment. Maybe for too long of a moment, because the whir of the milk frother snaps back your attention. 

“Are you interested?” 

The barista slides you your drink over the counter with a smile. You take it and press your lips together in a moment of thought. 

You only have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it’s too inconvenient, not to mention expensive to go home, back and forth from Seoul to Daegu and vice versa, on the days in between. Most of your friends are on vacation or went back to their hometowns over the break so you have no one to hang out with over the summer. And you could use the extra money.

“I don’t have any experience, though,” you tell her.

“That’s fine. You’ll get a few days of training,” she answers.

Tempting. You’re almost convinced. “What if I just want to work for the summer? Can I quit when the next semester starts?”

“A lot of students do that,” she hums. You see her take a square of tissue paper from the display, jotting down a series of numbers before sliding it over to you as well. “Julie. Call me if you wanna take the bait.”

You spare one more second to ponder. Then you take the number from under her fingers and carefully stuff it into your pocket. “Thanks.”

The heat has finally settled the moment you exit the cafe, a little bell jingle trailing you from behind, and you take a mental note to bring an umbrella with you from this day forward. Their coffee is good, you have to admit. If you work there for a good month or two, maybe you’d even end up saving cash by making your own drinks instead of having to buy them.

You decide to take the path through the parking lot to make your exit. There’s more trees around, meaning more shade because it’s really freaking hot. It’s very bare in the lot. You pass by a few cars, of which you assume belong to faculty and staff, until one of them honks at you, and you flinch to a halt.

Another honk. Your brows furrow. Looking around, you try to find the culprit, but you end up moving your head in just the right direction for the sun to beam its light directly into your eyes, blinding you temporarily, and you wince. God damn it. You hear another honk again, and you feel yourself start to get irritated. It’s coming from behind you. You spin your heels, vision still muddy from the direct sun attack, but nevertheless you start walking.

“Seriously, who the hell keeps fucking— oh!”

You bump into someone. You feel them balance you by your shoulders.

“You should’ve seen how dumb you looked.” You hear a snicker. Of fucking course, it’s Choi Beomgyu. Who else would it be? “But hey, you make a pretty good pigeon jerking your head around like that.”

“Fuck you,” you jab his arms off. “What are you even doing here?”

Beomgyu notices your coffee and takes a shameless sip from it before answering, “Get in the car. It’s so freaking hot out, jesus.” 

You don’t really have a choice because he practically shoves you into the passenger’s seat. So gentle. You nearly spill your drink all over when your ass lands on the leather cushion. 

“I was just about to sleep again after you dropped off the food earlier,” he explains while starting the car, and you watch him intently. Whenever your schedules matched, you’d sometimes go to and from uni together. But you can’t seem to get used to the image of your friend acting like a responsible adult. It’s fucking with you a bit. “But then I got a message from Prof Kim, asking if I could come by the office today.”

He pulls out of the parking lot, and the cool air finally settles into your skin. “For what?” Beomgyu lets out a groan. Must’ve been for a not great reason.

“The EMC department is hosting a conference of some sorts this year and he asked if I could be a volunteer facilitator, ask a few others from the department to help and join along too.”

“Oh? You gonna do it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” You pass through security out the main gate and start heading back to your apartment. “I wanted to come home over the break but the working days for this thing will apparently last throughout the summer. Prof Kim did say this will be minused from my volunteer hours, but I don’t know.” Beomgyu then gives you a side eye all of a sudden. “Speaking of. You undutiful daughter.”

“What?” you leer.

“Your mom hoped that you’d be home for the summer, too. Why didn’t you ask her first before enrolling for summer classes?”

“Why the hell do you two keep talking about me behind my back?” You’re shriveling up. Seriously, why does your mom contact him before you? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m doing all this so I can graduate early and find a job early, by the way. I don’t even have a full week of classes so I can still come home the first week of July.”

Apparently, you two argued for long enough to finally reach your building. 

“Tell me when you plan on going home,” he says, leaning against the wall beside your door watching as you key in your passcode to your unit. 

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, smiling. The door unlocks. You push it open. “You’re my free ride after all.” 

Now, your expected response from that is another retort from him, how you’ve been exploiting his kindness and whatnot and you’d have to snark back as well. But for some reason Beomgyu just stays quiet. He says nothing, an unreadable look on his face as he looks at yours. You raise a brow.

“What is it this time?”

Choi Beomgyu says nothing. He lifts up an arm, points his index finger near your face, and jabs his finger straight into your forehead.

“I’ll send you a review of your bokkeumbap later.” He laughs at your appalled expression.

“You’d be shocked to find out it’s better than my mom’s,” you say back, a hand tending to the spot he just attacked unprompted.

“You wish.”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I definitely will.” 

You send him a kick, which he dodges before fleeing into the safety of his apartment. Slippery bastard. Anyhow, you call it a day and settle into your own place. Few hours later, Beomgyu indeed sends you a review of your cooking with a photo of an empty dish attached. Three out of five, he says. Slippery bastard turned ungrateful bastard.

The next day, you’re at Horangnabi again. The night prior, you called Julie’s number and gave her the news that you’re in, and she told you to come an hour before opening so they can get you settled.

You come in with a greeting, and you see Julie look up from behind the counter to wave you in with a smile. “You’re here! Hanbin, come meet our new part-timer.”

At the mention of Hanbin’s name, you immediately double take, and emerging from the door to what you assume is the storage area is indeed the Hanbin you know from the coding club. 

“You!” you immediately shriek, almost feeling a hint of betrayal because this is the first time you’ve seen him in daylight, because their clubroom is always so fucking dark. And in something other than the god damned flannels everyone in their club is always so fond of wearing like it’s an unspoken uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so it is you!” Hanbin happily exclaims. “I thought it was just someone with the same name.”

Julie was delighted to find out you two already knew each other. You skip all the necessary introductions and jump in head first into getting acquainted with the equipment instead.

“We’ll go through all of the drinks first. I also have the recipes printed out over here in case you need reference.”

Having a familiar face in an unfamiliar workplace is indeed a pleasant surprise, but there’s also a familiar sense of dread to have one of Beomgyu’s coding club buddies in here. Granted, he doesn’t annoy or tease you as much as the others, but those guys have already given themselves a label in your head, and Sung Hanbin is no exception to your collective bad impression.

“And then you twist the handle— just like that.”

You’re in the middle of your first latte, the espresso machine up and running. After which, Hanbin teaches you how to use the milk steamer without any difficulty, and you pour the milk into the same cup as the espresso you made earlier. “Wow,” Hanbin remarks. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the caffeine I’ve ingested,” you say. “Skill buff. Or whatever you guys say.”

Hanbin laughs and compliments your latte once more. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for your discomfort to completely disappear because at this point in time, Beomgyu’s friends would already start asking you about him— where he is, why isn’t he with you, etcetera etcetera. But his name has not left Hanbin’s mouth even once, and it’s already the end of your first day.

“It’s always slow here, except on rare occasions, so you’ll be able to handle it with no problems,” Julie says before sending you off. “Anyway, Hanbin and I will be around during your shifts, so you can run to us in case a particularly grumpy student comes to order.”

Hanbin gives you a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And that’s how you established your new routine for the rest of the summer. It’s just like Julie said. Things are pretty slow. The only notable thing that happened on your second day at work is Beomgyu sending you a very unflattering, low-angle selfie under the blinding lights of the faculty office glaring behind his head with the text message that he said yes to volunteering for the conference. Sad face emoji included. 

On Thursday, Julie taught you how to make a damn good waffle. On Monday next week, you got your first shitty customer. Finally on Friday, you decided to open your skeleton closet to Hanbin, because not once since your a little over a week of working here has he asked you about the whereabouts of Choi Beomgyu.

“You and Beomgyu are friends right?”

There aren’t any customers except for the regulars from Bio that are almost always found in the corner of the cafe until closing. Hanbin is wiping the already squeaky clean counter because there is nothing to do. “Yes?” he answers, a smile on his face, but with a tone that’s evidently confused. “So are you?”

Christ. Now you’re the one bringing that bastard up. “Right. It’s just a little odd.” There, you bring up what you’ve observed so far since working here, and the fact that you and him have shared actual conversations not involving your old friend, and how it’s pretty surprising to you. “One time, I thought someone was going to confess to me. Turns out he just wanted me to convince Beomgyu to help him rank up in League.”

“Well, I don’t really need any help in that area.” Hanbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sounds like you and him have been friends for a long time.”

Neither of you have told anyone about your history. No reason in particular. Beomgyu just never found the need to tell his friends that you’ve known each other from birth, and neither have you. But Hanbin’s presence, when separated from the rest of his friends, just feels like a blanket of comfort, and you find yourself spilling your guts to him— including the previous three to four month cold war you caused and the reasons.

Hanbin is patient. He listens the entire time with an attentiveness you can only compare to a saint. “I guess being a social butterfly has its unintentional consequences. I’m just happy to hear you two made up.”

“I probably would never regularly step foot in your dungeon hole otherwise.”

He laughs. “The guys in the club also tease you a lot, don’t they? Doesn’t it bother you?”

You press your lips together. “Yeah, but at this point it’s just white noise to me now.”

Hanbin looks at you. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy it either.”

Well. He’s not wrong. 

Your conversation gets cut short with the cafe bell signaling the entrance of customers. You look at the door. It’s a whole stampede of people. It’s Choi Beomgyu and his friends and you can’t even go on a day of talking about them without them showing up.

“Whoa, I’ve never been here before.”

“Dude, you’re in your third year. Where the hell have you been?”

“Doesn’t Hanbin hyung work here—”

“Yeah, let’s ask him to give us free cookies.”

“Hyunjin, buy me a drink.”

“Buy your own drink, nerd.”

“Hi, I’ll have an iced americano, and a— o-oh, my god.”

You’re face to face with Yang Jeongin who nearly pisses himself upon the recognition that it’s you behind the corner. It dominoes to the rest of the group. You don’t know why they’re being so dramatic. You let out a huff and a sigh. “An iced americano and…?” 

Jeongin doesn’t get to answer. Beomgyu unwedges himself from the group and squeezes his way to the counter. “You work here now?” 

You cock a brow. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Since when?” he immediately follows up. You’re a little taken aback.

“Since last Tuesday,” you answer after recounting. Beomgyu makes a face that burrows a pit in your stomach.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Okay. Now you’re very taken aback. There’s a cough from the crowd. And then a very intuitive, not-so-hushed remark from one of the boys. “Holy shit. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”

It hits a nerve. Hanbin quickly dissuades anything before you could open your mouth. “So, what are you guys ordering?”

The amount of drinks to make and pastries to bring out gets you busy for a while, but you still keep an eye on Beomgyu, watching as he settles back to normal joking mode with his friends while you try to find an opening to talk to him. You and Hanbin finish making all their orders, so you ask him if you can be excused for a moment. He tells you to go ahead and you make your way to Beomgyu, who’s sitting on one of the ends of the three conjoined tables in the more spacious corner of the store.

He’s talking to Yeonjun. When Yeonjun notices you approaching, he immediately quiets down, so you take this as permission to interrupt. You tap on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turns around and looks up. “You good?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, about to say something— “Ahem,” — but then Yeonjun clears his throat, accidentally catching the attention of the rest of the boys, and they’re suddenly popping out their heads like meerkats in your direction. “Should I give you two some space?”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re having a moment.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you guys sell popcorn?”

You’re used to their teasing. You’re used to their bullshit, really. You’re fine if they pull on your hair strands inside their clubroom, but for fuck’s sake this is a public space. Heeseung isn’t even around, but it seems like all his clubmates caught his disease. Your bio regulars are sneaking a few glances at the commotion. There are other customers too. You’re visibly annoyed and embarrassed— which doesn’t go over Beomgyu’s head, because he notices. And he also looked like he’s getting irritated. 

“Hey, you two should just apologize and make up!”

Beomgyu gets up. You see his jaw clench. Oh no. You quickly grab his arm with a tug before he can do anything— only for Hanbin to show up with a tray, setting it down on their table in a less than gentle manner. They flinch. They shut up. Hanbin sets down a few plates with a chilling smile.

“We don’t have popcorn, but here are your fries,” he says. Wow. “Do you guys want to add anything else?”

There’s a single squeak from the group. “No, we’re good.”

Hanbin hums in acknowledgement and retrieves the tray from the table— not without sending you a thumbs up, to which you mouth a thank you in return. He smiles and nods before going back to the counter, and there you feel Beomgyu removing your hold on his arm from a while ago, and you quickly flit your attention back to him, fearing that you might’ve upset him. Again. Like last time.

“Wait—”

“Are you trying to slack off?” he jeers. You look at him, a little surprised. Beomgyu nudges his head to the counter and you see a few customers filtering in. He did remove your hand from his arm, but he’s still holding it. “I’m not upset because you didn’t tell me you started working here. Well. I was. A bit. But not anymore.”

You feel his thumb run through your knuckles, going over the bumps of each joint, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“It must’ve been heaven for you to get some peace and quiet for once. But then I had to bring these losers around,” he wrinkles his nose. You feel a load get off of your chest. Beomgyu lets go of your hand. “If you told me beforehand, I would’ve steered them away from here.”

“Well it’s fine as long as they don’t cause a scene.” You say the last part a little bit louder than conversational-volume. From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin cough on his fry. “Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“No shit. Go do what you’re paid for, slacker.”

He lands a smack on your back and you’re pushed off to do your job. Gosh. Hanbin welcomes you back to the station and the both of you are kept busy for the time being, up until late afternoon strikes, and Beomgyu says he can’t drive you home today since they’re still needed back at the faculty office.

“Your girlfriend can get home just fine! Prof Kim’s looking for us, hurry—”

And just like that, he gets lugged out of the cafe. Jeongin laments about returning to “printing hell,” whatever he means by that, and the walls of Horangnabi are once again returned to their original state— peace and quiet.

The bell jingles. You hear nothing but the metronomic melody from the speakers. “Your friends are so draining,” you tell Hanbin.

He just laughs. “They’re quite energetic.”

You should’ve appreciated the serenity and calmness of your first couple of days working here because for the next few weeks, the coding club has decided that the campus cafe is going to be their regular hangout spot from now on. Or until their summer volunteer work finally ends.

“You know, you’re so pretty.”

It’s the end of June now. You’re wiping off some spilled milk from the counter when Julie suddenly decides to dote on you. She’s on the other side of the counter, face between her palms, and your wiping stops, face flushed.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“You’re like the prettiest flower in a garden and I’d fend off all the other bees and butterflies just to have you for myself,” she doubles down. You release a laugh, mildly forced because holy shit, this is a new kind of attention. “No wonder you have all these guys buzzing around you all the time.”

Julie thumb-points at the corner the coding club guys usually occupy. You hear Hyunjin losing his shit over something—

“I think he’s the one they keep buzzing around, seonbae.”

—something Choi Beomgyu very likely said considering the grin he has on his face, and how Yeonjun is also collapsing on his shoulders. You watch as his grin disappears into a cup, taking a sip from the lime soda he ordered. Then he notices you staring. He settles down the drink and gets up. 

“Oh no, he’s coming over.”

“What?” he says after reaching the counter, taking the spot next to Julie. “Are you talking shit about me again?”

“Hey, not everything is about you, insect,” answers Julie. Those two have gotten pretty close too. “I was talking about how pretty our new barista is. She’s a breath of fresh air. A rose among the truckload of weeds sullying the pretty interiors of our dear cafe.”

Beomgyu snorts at the comparison. You give him the stink eye.

“I get what she means,” Hanbin slides into conversation. He hums and passes you the milkshake Jeongin ordered. It’s still missing the whipped cream on top. You fetch a container from the fridge and walk back to your station, only to be met by a sudden debate on what kind of flower you are now.

“No, no. She’s not a rose,” you hear Yeonjun interject. “Appearance wise, she’s like a daffodil. Personality wise, she’s a venus flytrap.” A few of them chortle and laugh. You roll your eyes and start shaking the container.

“You’re wrong, she’s a hydrangea!”

“Aren’t they poisonous?”

“Exactly.”

A few more give their pitches. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed by the amount of knowledge these gamer gremlin boys have. You finish Jeongin’s milkshake and give it back to Hanbin for delivery. Beomgyu is quiet throughout the whole debacle, until Hyunjin eggs him on to give his pitch. They need to hear the expert’s verdict, he says. Beomgyu just brushes them off until he notices you looking at him expectantly. He pauses. He’s actually thinking about it. You’re pleasantly surprised at his sudden thoughtfulness— that is, of course, until he actually opens his freaking mouth.

“You’re a milkweed.”

It’s like a ball gets punted into your head. It bounces off and lands on the ground. You hear a wheeze from the boys. You give Beomgyu the middle finger.

“A weed! Not even a flower!”

“Hey, they are flowers! Go look it up!”

Beomgyu can’t redeem himself anymore. You’re already looking at him with bitter disgust and Julie proceeds to call him a piece of shit.

“It really is a flower!” 

He still defends, pleading his case to you even after the topic has shifted. Julie has left to clean up some tables. Beomgyu remains in his spot on the other side of the counter until you decide to believe him and his alleged substantial botanical knowledge. 

“Sure, whatever,” you deride. Beomgyu is still pouty. “Anyway, your conference thingy is this weekend, right? We’re going home right after?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding a little bitter and you bite down a laugh. His eyes flutter down, noticing something on your chin, and offhandedly wipes off what you assume is some stray whipped cream from earlier with his thumb. “Do you wanna leave in the morning or afternoon?”

“Oooooh.”

Lee Heeseung suddenly rears his head near the counter to return their empty plates. He’s back from vacation and now he’s here to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one annoyance. “Get a room,” he says with a shit eating grin that you want to wipe the floor with.

“Why’d you even come back early?” you leer at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be island hopping until the end of July?”

He sticks his tongue out. Beomgyu just laughs. “I can’t miss Sungchan’s party. You’re going, right?”

Right. The alleged wildest, most epic summer rager Jung Sungchan mentioned before parting ways with you and Minjeong over vacation. He texted you about it again last night. You couldn’t leave him on read because he called you immediately after.

“Unfortunately,” you lament. “Sungchan’s gonna throw a tantrum if I don’t show up.”

“You know Sungchan?” Beomgyu suddenly asks. 

You give him a pointed look. “Duh, obviously. We’re in the same major.”

It’s like a lightbulb materializes on the top of his head. “Ah,” he says. “I forgot you had other friends.”

You quickly retaliate by attacking him with the nearest thing you can get your hands on: a dish towel. He lets out a very fake, very dramatic yelp of pain and tells on you to Julie noona for abusing your customers and that you should be fired. 

“You’re no customer, you termite.”

“Ack! Noona! She’s hitting me again!”

“Is this how the youngins flirt nowadays?”

Both of you freeze in frame— him trying to yank your weapon from your hands and you with an arm up ready to throw a punch— and turn your heads towards Heeseung, who has a very smug smile playing on his face. You shoot Beomgyu a glare before roughly tugging the dish towel from his grasp. “Shut your mouth, Hee. How’s it going with your compsci girlie, anyway. You’ve stopped bragging since last month.”

Heeseung’s smile stiffens. He breathes out a ‘haha,’ before starting to turn away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Serves him right. After a while you routinely bid them good riddance since they have to leave for volunteer work again. The weekend comes rolling, they finish the conference, and, with summer vacation coming to a close, you also bid your part-time job here at Horangnabi farewell as well after two-months of service. 

“It’s not like she’s never coming back here,” Beomgyu huffs. You two decided to stop by before leaving off to your hometown, Monday after their conference. Julie refuses to stop squeezing you. Beomgyu tugs on your shirt sleeve, but you don’t budge. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Coming from the guy who’s spending the entire week with her,” Julie spits back. “You better bring her back here in one piece, you bug.”

Choi Beomgyu succeeds in retrieving you this time. The container carrying two cups of coffee swings in your hand as an arm hooks around your neck, tipping you back, and the top of your skull hits Beomgyu’s chin.

“Hanbin, we’re heading out.”

“Drive safe!”

You’re only spending a little over a week in Daegu. You two still need to come back to Seoul in time for Jung Sungchan’s, cough, epic summer rager. He hasn’t missed a day in reminding you about it. You’re out for a joint-family dinner with Choi Beomgyu and his family and your phone buzzes only to see Sungchan’s text saying [three days. i better see you there 🫵🫵🫵]. 

“Your classes don’t even start until September.”

It’s the third week of August. Your mom decides to walk you to Beomgy’s car. “I still need to enroll and register for my classes,” you tell her. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” You pause. “And if you want to know what I’m up to, just ask me directly for god’s sake. Quit asking that guy.”

That guy wrinkles his nose at you. “Auntie, don’t listen to her. She’s just being jealous.”

“Wait until I tell your mom about how you nearly set fire to your kitchen.”

“Say a single word and I’m never letting you in my car anymore.”

Jung Sungchan’s party is at their vacation home in Eunpyeong District because his parents aren’t in the country. There’s a pool (gross). He promised you and Minjeong exclusive room access to escape to in case of emergencies (nice). It’s late afternoon. Beomgyu is already there because, well, he’s Choi Beomgyu and everyone’s obsessed with him. You’re still at Minjeong’s apartment, getting ready and borrowing some of her accessories.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you guys here?” he asks over the phone. You can barely hear him with the noise in the background. “Taxi fare’s expensive.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Minjeong makes a face from the foot of the bed while she irons her hair. “I’ve saved up a lot of pocket money thanks to you being my personal chauffeur anyway. And Minjeong doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a douchebag.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Bye.” You hang up. Minjeong still has a look on her face. “What?”

“I think he’s stringing you along,” she says bitingly.

You let out a huff. “How can he string me along when I don’t even like him?” Minjeong simply says that Choi Beomgyu gives her bad vibes, whatever the fuck she means because the only vibe Beomgyu exudes is the vibe of extreme annoyance. You hop off Minjeong’s bed and change into the outfit you brought, opting to put on this very big, droopy sunhat you once bought at a flea market as extra protection. It’s stupid hot out. You steal some of Minjeong’s sunscreen as well before finally heading out.

“Did Sungchan invite everyone at uni or something?”

A foot into his gate, it’s already so crowded. Like really fucking crowded. There’s music blasting somewhere. You can’t find Sungchan anywhere in the yard so you and Minjeong squeeze your way into the house, and there you find him with Heeseung. Minjeong yells for his attention, and he spins around with a big smile. “Hey, you made it!” Sungchan hurls himself at you with a bone crushing hug. “It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you.”

“Quit being so dramat— ack! Tap out, tap out! I give!”

He finally releases you, and you grunt. “Here you go.” He tosses the keys to the room he promised. 

“Have fun partying.” Minjeong snatches it into her hands immediately. You scan the area for a bit. You see Hyunjin and Jeongin in the corner of the living room.

“Boo, you’re so lame,” jeers Sungchan, to which Minjeong just ignores and tugs your arm.

“How about you?” she asks.

You shift your gaze back to her. “I’ll go look for Choi Beomgyu’s round head first then hermit up there with you.” Minjeong makes a gagging noise before going off for the staircase. You’re ready to take out your phone to shoot Beomgyu a text, but you feel a sudden weight on the top of your head, so you look up, brows knitted.

“Your boyfie’s out in the back, sunshine,” Sungchan says while attempting to snatch your hat. 

“Not my fucking boyfriend.” You swat his hand away and readjust the hat on your head. “But thanks. Later.”

The thing about your longtime friend is that no matter how crowded the place, no matter how flooded an area is with people and people and people— he’s generally very easy to find. Just look for a crowd, look for bodies circling around each other and whoever is at the epicenter, at the eye of the storm, is more often than not Choi Beomgyu.

Your trick is proven to be effective this time around as well. When you leave the living room through the glass doors to the backyard, you spot him instantaneously sitting on the ledge of the other side of the pool, feet dipping into the water as he laughs along with the large group surrounding him. It’s bright out— the sun’s rays bouncing off from the water’s surface to glitter the underside of his face. Even the sun has his attention. It’s so comically ridiculous that you almost roll your eyes into a scoff. That is until you see him see you, and within a moment’s notice, he’s up on his feet and is departing from the crowd to walk up to you.

“You’re here.”

The first thing he does is swipe the sunhat from your head, adding it to his obnoxiously colored outfit: a bright pink buttoned top with neon orange flowers, the color matching the necklace he’s uncharacteristically wearing. He’s also got a pair of square framed sunglasses perched on his nose. “Is this your highlighter cosplay?” you ask, snickering. 

He shoots you a glare. “Fuck off. What took you so long, anyway? Thought you got lost or something.”

“I wish I did,” you grunt. There’s a holler and a splash from somewhere. You feel a few droplets hitting the skin of your feet. Beomgyu tugs you by the arm a little farther away from the pool. “This is way too noisy for my liking. And I thought I’ve been desensitized by you and your friends.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Beomgyu!”

A third voice suddenly barges in from behind you. Beomgyu’s eyes leave your face for a second when you feel someone brush past your shoulders. “Hey!” Beomgyu greets back, giving who you assume is one of his friends a high five before the guy runs off again, then his gaze flits back to you. “Anyway—”

“Hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!”

A more familiar face shows up and greets Beomgyu with a slap on the back, once more fishing away his attention. You’ve seen him at Horangnabi before, you think. “Hyung, I’ll get to you in a sec!” he says. When Beomgyu looks at you again, his smile quickly drops into a pursed huff. “Ugh.”

You laugh. “You were saying?”

Beomgyu smacks his tongue in distaste, tugging you even further into a corner in the backyard, right next to a bush-lined fence under the shade. “I was trying to say— it’s good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while, you know. Your mother would cry tears of joy to hear that her hermit of a daughter is at a party.”

“Why do you always bring up my mother when you want to make a point?”

“Extra leverage,” he grins. “There’s drinks in the cooler. Want me to get you one?”

“Nah,” you say. “I’m gonna hole up in Sungchan’s room in about—” you check the time on your phone. “Ten minutes. Minjeong’s already in our sanctuary.”

You receive a pinch on the nose from Beomgyu for that. You try to elbow him off, and just as he’s about to say something again, you two hear his name being yelled out from somewhere in the area. “Choi Beomgyu! Pool volleyball, stat!” Beomgyu pauses, arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slump in defeat. A single breath of wind, he’s gonna fall over.

“God fucking damn it.”

It’s very funny seeing him like this. “Off you go,” you push his limp body out of the shade, the sun hitting you both once more. Beomgyu makes a grunt of protest. “Go, butterfly, go. Your people are waiting for you.”

Beomgyu gives you a look of awful judgment, but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway in preparation to take a dive. “You’re not gonna swim?” he asks.

“In that water?” you grimace. “Want me to catch a disease or some shit? You’re on your own, pal.”

“Drama queen,” he huffs, fully removing his shirt now and you’re like whoa there— eyes away, eyes away. A screeching voice calls from his attention. He looks behind to yell back, “Shut the fuck up, I’ll there in a minute!”

“Hand me your phone,” you tell him, holding out your hand. Beomgyu turns around, looking at you with his atrociously bright shirt hanging on his forearm. You clear your throat. “And clothes. Ask Sungchan for directions to his room to find me later.”

“You sure?” he asks, digging into his short pockets.

“Yeah. Go have your fun, loser.”

Beomgyu hums and takes your offer, handing you his phone, tossing his shirt to your face, putting your sun hat back on top of your head and making sure to ruin your hair in the process. He’s so fucking annoying. “I’ll be back after I kick their asses.”

The shirt drops from your face and falls, only to hang on your arm. “Hey. I don’t really care,” you say. Beomgyu doesn’t find that response satisfactory. He makes a face before running off, slow at first before breaking into a sprint once he’s near enough the pool, before jumping straight into the water with a loud splash!

His head emerges from the water, largely grinning with his hair sticking to his skull. It doesn’t take long for him to be swallowed by a group of people. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I know you hate it when people assume you’re dating. But seeing all that, I really can’t blame them.”

“Holy shit— Minjeong,” you jump, meeting face-to-face with your friend the moment you spin your heels. She’s got her arms crossed, looking at you like she’s massively unimpressed. “When did you get here?”

“I thought you died or something,” she shrugs. There’s a splash from the pool, you two getting hit as collateral damages and Minjeong makes a gagging noise. “I can’t believe I left home early for this mess.”

You make a noise of agreement. It’s around four right now, the number of people isn’t getting any smaller, and the music is yet to get louder. Choi Beomgyu’s shirt and phone are still on your person. Said phone buzzing incessantly in your hold. “I’ve been out here for a good ten minutes,” you say. “I think that’s enough.”

“Good call. Let’s go upstairs.”

On the way to the room, you bump into Heeseung, who ropes you in to taking two jello shots before setting you free. You also greet a few people that you know for uni here and there, but you can barely hear them over, well, everything. It’s so chaotic, you’re beginning to wonder how the hell Jung Sungchan is going to clean up the aftermath of this. Or maybe that’s why he was so desperate to have you and Minjeong over. So that you’d help him clean up. 

Minjeong seems to agree with your theory. You two key in the door to the room he gave you while cussing him out. “That bastard. Of course, he’d have ulterior motives.” The door opens. Minjeong lets herself in and immediately throws herself face-first onto the bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“You dressed up all cutely just to sleep at a party,” you say, scanning around the room for a place to put away Beomgyu’s things. 

“Hey, my ten minutes of screentime needs to be worth it,” she replies, voice muffled by the mattress. “Night, night.”

With how pretty the interiors look, you’re pretty sure this isn’t a room Sungchan frequents. A guest bed, maybe. There’s a large window on the opposite wall revealing a vivid backyard view, sheer white curtains filtering the sun. It’s very bohemian. Tasseled rugs, rattan decor hung all around. You notice the round, wicker seat next to the bed with a patterned cushion. You toss Beomgyu’s belongings there and walk up to the window.

Peeling back the curtain, you look down to see a flood of people scattered all about the yard, muffled music and noises leaking into the cracks of the room. Choi Beomgyu is still splashing around the pool. You watch as he throws a beach ball overhead, eyes following it fly across the water, until it ultimately bounces off the pool ledge and hits someone from behind. He looks pretty happy with the stunt. You let out a huff, a tug on the corners of your mouth, and let yourself sink into the soft rug in between the bed and the windowsill, laying down.

You hear Minjeong squirming from above. Damn, she’s actually sleeping. You’d get up there and join her too, but the floor is already comfortable, and you’re already yawning, so you feel yourself starting to doze off, lulled by the distant sounds of people from the outside.

When you open your eyes again, it’s orange.

You open your phone. Almost six in the evening. The sunset leaks into the room through the sheer curtain, painting shadows on the floor as you blink and regain your consciousness.

Then you hear three sharp knocks from the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming.” It takes a while for you to reconnect the wires in your brain. You let out a yawn as you make your groggy steps towards the door, seeing Minjeong wedged into the upper corner of the bed in a way that’s definitely going to wrinkle her outfit. There’s a few more knocks on the door. You twist the knob open and lo and behold—

It’s Choi Beomgyu.

“Oh, thank god, I found the right room this time.”

Half-clothed. With a very evident, painful red mark on his left cheekbone.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

You’re wide awake now. Beomgyu answers with a sheepish grin. “Well. You see. A little accident occurred.” 

He flinches back and looks away guiltily with tightly pressed lips the moment you nudge your face closer. It’s swollen. You take a step back with a sigh. “Explain,” you say, grabbing him into the room. You tip the door close with your foot and bring him to the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Minjeong up in the process.

“Some of the guys got a little too tipsy,” he starts as you sit him down onto the mattress. You kneel onto the bed stool, sinking into the loose blanket draped on the cushion just next to his outstretched legs while he continues yapping. “There was a surfboard involved. Don’t ask. But with alcohol-induced lack of coordination, and then there’s me who was by the pool ledge at the wrong place at the wrong time— I think you can get an idea of what happened.

He leans back, sinking his hands into the cushion. You dip forward. “That’s nothing to brag about.” Yeah, he’s gonna need some ice. 

“I think I bumped my head a little too.”

You feel a breath escape. He’s smiling. How many beer cans has he downed already? “Beomgyu. Seriously. What the fuck?” His face is irritating you, so you grab it and yank it down to get a good look of his big, round head. “Where?”

“Ack! Gently! Do it gently!” he complains, and you feel his right hand coil around your left wrist. “It’s father in the back, I think—”

“Quit grabbing—”

“Ow!”

You do manage to find the bump, but you accidentally press on it a little too hard, causing Choi Beomgyu to yank your wrist in surprise, jerking you forward out of balance. Now, that’s fine and all, but at the same moment, you hear two unfamiliar voices speaking in hushes approaching the door. Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure this room is empty?”

“Yeah, it’s empty, just—”

Swing! 

You try to get up. But your knees slip on the blanket on the stool and you stumble forward upon hearing the door slam open.

It’s a domino effect. Your palms are pressing against the soft mattress. Choi Beomgyu’s bruised face is looking straight at you in alarm. From underneath. You’re on top of him. On the bed. You snap your head towards the door and it’s wide, wide open with two people, half inside, and a few more heads poking in and zeroing in on you as the realization that you forgot to fucking lock it dawns upon you and soaks into your bones.

This. This isn’t a favorable position.

God damn it all.

“Sorry!”

And the door is slammed shut once more. That doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. You feel your face starting to burn and your strength attempting to escape from your body.

“Uh.”

The voice from below you reels your attention back in. You blink. Shit. You’re practically pinning Choi Beomgyu against the bed right now and his face is just a few inches away from yours. The heat is rising to your head. You want to move, but your arms won’t budge— seemingly temporarily locked into place by the shock of the sight underneath you.

His eyes are wide open, reflecting the orange tinted light from the ceiling, flushing his skin with a light shade of auburn, the tint deeper on his cheeks and nose. You see his throat bob, muscles contracting. 

The thing is, you’ve known him for a good twenty years or so, give or take. But you’ve never seen his face this close before, and you have to admit—

“C—can you move?”

Choi Beomgyu is kind of pretty.

Even with an ugly bruise forming underneath his eye.

“Hey. I don’t think this is gonna help kill any of the rumors.”

You look up to see Minjeong further up on the bed, very, very awake. You forgot she’s here. You toss yourself to the side with a squeak, practically hurling yourself off from the bed. “It—it was an accident!” you start. Minjeong simply shakes her head with sigh.

“I know. I saw everything. I was already awake the moment you sat this fucker’s ass on the bed.”

Hot. Your face is very hot. But Minjeong is also very right because god— you’re not sure how far things are gonna escalate. How many people saw that? Five? Maybe Six? Gosh, you don’t fucking know. The only thing you’re sure about is the fact that Lee Heeseung is gonna have a field day once he hears about this. You are royally screwed.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

[fandomloreblog]

🗡️ Vergil Headcanons Post-DMC5 🫐

These headcanons are mainly for my DMC6 fanstory, but yall are more than welcome to claim them for whatever your silly hearts desire (if anyone does fanfics PLEASE TAG ME I am starved for content)!!!

Warnings: None! Pure fluff and giggles here!

Stuck in hell for roughly 3-5 months with Dante, so lots of impromptu bro bonding and family therapy. Hears about what The Order did and what happened with Nero and develops Overprotective Dad Syndrome™️ once he returns (Nero doesn’t know how to feel about it).

Ends up growing stubble and keeps it. Originally because he didn’t exactly have a decent razor (The Yamato can only do so much) but eventually grew used to it. His actual hair he keeps a bit longer, but tidy still and almost always naturally pushed back. Usually it’s only down once he wakes up or is too tired to fix it.

Actually uses the Yamato to cut a lot of stuff (hair, fabric, non-messy food, etc), his main issue is Dante using it. Nero grabbed it once to test the durability of a new Devil Bringer, and when Vergil attempted to get it back, Nero made a “Or what? You’re gonna take my other arm?” Joke that had him somewhat frozen for a solid 5 minutes.

V’s tattoo’s also ended up resurfacing, which he kept as a sort of “memento” of them. They glow when he’s annoyed or enraged, or just close to entering his Devil Trigger (think of djheretostay’s Demon Hunter Outfit Mod for Vergil in terms of look!)

Tries dressing somewhat more “humanly” and not “I am a demon in disguise wearing a hell boar skin coat and dragon scale armor”. Again, Demon Hunter fit is his go-to, along with still somewhat formal outfits, but still human-made and relevant to the fashion era. (He is somewhat embarrassed by his DMC3 fit looking back on it).

Starts cooking for the entire DMC after he returned. He discovered Dante’s poor eating habits when stuck in Hell and basically had to force-feed him scavenged food he whipped up to make sure he stayed healthy and didn’t starve. When they did get back, he took it upon himself to make sure Dante, Nero, and anyone else who was there get some damn veggies into their system. It’s basically his love language.

He made a whole vegan/veggie pizza once, and Dante didn’t notice the difference. Nero had to jump between the two when Dante found out, and now Vergil is required to notify what’s in whatever he cooks.

Ends up becoming cooking partners with Kyrie somehow? Kyrie wants to get into Vergil (technically her father-in-law)’s good graces, while Vergil wants to figure out something healthy that Nero and Dante will eat.

Speaking of cooking, Vergil actually has a wide knowledge on hell-based cooking and gardening. Due to his decades of experience living there (both as Nelo Angelo and Vergil), he actually knows more about Hell’s fauna and flora than Earth’s. As a result, he’s basically the go-to knowledge guy when it comes to dealing with anything that is more complex than “charging in and slashing up the demons”.

Ends up having a somewhat secret garden somewhere in his apartment where he grows the few fruits and veggies from hell that everyone likes. It’s sort of an open secret, but they don’t pressure him over it just in case he stops or gets embarrassed about it.

GOD this man becomes such a book nerd. Not even just for poetry, in general. While poetry is his favorite, he is curious about other books/genres, so he has a whole collection (again) at his apartment. Nico gave him a demon-based smut book to see what he’d do/react to it, but then he didn’t do anything? And no no one has the balls to question if he actually read the damn thing or hasn’t yet.

Speaking of The Apartment™️- it’s a small condo in a somewhat decent spot in Red Grave City. he actually owned it waaaay before DMC5. He got using some “totally legit funds” during his wanderings as a place to store info/supplies in his search for power. Basically he owns it outright and doesn’t have to worry about taxes, and it’s better to not ask questions.

Doesn’t really have much in terms of furniture. He has a bed, a dresser/closet, a bookshelf, the hell garden, and a few boxes, and that’s basically it. Very minimalist, but only because he doesn’t really exactly know what he likes in terms of decor (yet). Take him into an IKEA, and he’ll be sat in front of 4 near-identical lamps for 2 hours wondering what he likes best.

Still struggling with actually verbalizing that he cares. Very much an “actions speak louder than words” person, so he’s constantly doing small things/actions (like cooking) to show that. He’s trying hard to be a better person, and just hopes that everyone see’s it.

They do, Nero’s just too prideful to admit it, and Vergil takes everything Dante says with a grain of salt.

VERY SAPPY!!! He’s down bad missing (insert y’all’s Lady-In-Red name)/Addie. Has one ring she gave him because he expressed a modicum of interest in it, and that’s his most cherished possession. NEVER takes it off.

Dante tried grabbing it once, and Vergil actually hissed at him out of pure defensiveness.

[sacr1ficialang3l]

The Rain Song

WARNINGS: angst. canon-typical violence (and a little more because it is nyx). blood-drinking. fluff. getting together. dean learns to love the supernatural (or maybe just nyx). 3.6k

NOTES: third part of little miss scare-all. as always, english is not my first language. enjoy<3

“You are the sunlight in my growing So little warmth I've felt before”

A month has gone by since you knocked on Sam and Dean’s motel room door.

You hadn’t planned to stay for so long, but there was always something. You would have left, but they needed help with an ancient creature they were clueless about—and you knew it personally. You would pack your bags after that, but then the Winchesters were heading to New York City, and you loved New York City, so you jumped into the Impala after Sam’s first offer. You would’ve said your final goodbye once you got to the motel near Times Square, but you just… didn’t want to.

So this is how you end up here, lying in the back seat of the Impala, head bopping to the beat of Paranoid by Black Sabbath. You’ve been on the road for hours, and it’s been awkward.

Sam and Dean take turns driving and napping in the passenger seat, but you stay awake. The time alone with Sam is mostly filled with him nerding out, asking you all kinds of questions about the historical moments you’ve lived through, but it’s nice.

When it’s just you and Dean? It’s all charged glances and jokes that toe the line you’ve both been dancing around since you met.

But now both brothers are awake—Sam behind the wheel, and Dean playing air guitar next to him.

You hate how fucking adorable the hunter can be.

The music is loud and rumbling, Dean’s favorite cassette blasting through the speakers. You stare up at the roof of the car, silently taking a trip down memory lane.

“Ozzy was a weird motherfucker.” you think out loud.

Silence. Motionless and palpable.

Sam and Dean don’t move, don’t even breathe. A second goes by, and then—

“You met Ozzy Osbourne?”

Dean’s uncharacteristically high-pitched tone snaps you back to the moment. You sit up in the back seat, leaning against the backrest of the front seats.

“Yeah, we hung out,” you say casually, not noticing how Dean is absolutely losing his mind. “Met at a party. He invited me to a few of his shows.”

More silence. Dean turns to look at you, jaw dropped, while Sam stares at you through the rearview mirror with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry—what?”

You start laughing, trying to calm yourself down before speaking again. “Oh, gods. One time I found him in a green room, he was overdosing. I got him breathing again quickly, before anyone noticed.” Another giggle, like it’s nothing. “He called me his dark angel for a week. Sharon was not amused.”

“You—” Only then do you actually notice how close Dean is. With your arms draped over the backrest and his face turned to the side, you get a perfect view of every single freckle adorning the bridge of his nose and the olive flecks in his otherwise forest-green eyes.

Eyes full of life, full of mortality. Eyes that, in a few years—which for you will feel like minutes—will close forever.

You look away.

“You’re just now casually mentioning you met one of the biggest rockstars ever?” Dean sounds so offended you have to chuckle. So dramatic.

“I’ve met a million rockstars, darling.” You smirk, velvety and infuriating. “I went to every party, saw the rise of every new talent. Got a few songs written about me.” You shrug, and it makes Dean’s eye twitch.

You bite your lip. Oh, how you love teasing him.

That look he gets in his eyes—the way they hood and burn with fire, not ice. It’s addictive.

“Did you know I was there when Jimmy came up with the last solo at the end of Stairway to Heaven?”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”

⋆♱✮♱⋆

A couple more months pass. More hunts. More car rides. More tension.

Every day, you fight the feelings slowly hatching from your frozen heart. Every time your eyes linger on his golden-brown hair, or the blood still drying on his skin; every time you catch yourself scribbling lyrics about calloused hands and worn leather jackets; every time your gaze softens a little too much when he tilts his head, confused by some old, fancy word you use—you force yourself to snap out of it.

Dean is mortal, you remind yourself. Don’t be stupid.

But Dean Winchester is someone you can’t stop from growing on you. Him, with his cocky grins and overconfident strut. Him, with his inclination for self-sacrifice and self-deprecating jokes.

Dean Winchester—who finally lets you start patching him up after hunts, after refusing for weeks. When he’s convinced you won’t lose control at the sight of blood, and knowing that you know more about medicine (and everything, really) than Sam or him, he lets you stitch him up.

Dean Winchester—who hisses lowly at the pain but grits his teeth through the worst of it. Whose warm, rough skin melts under your careful touch. Who thanks you in a quiet voice, then stares into your eyes in the dim light of the motel bathroom, yellow bulb flickering above.

Dean Winchester—who takes you by surprise when he whispers to you about regret. About fear. Who opens up in the dark of the night.

Dean Winchester—who, slowly but steadily, builds himself a place so deep in your chest that the thought of leaving him now feels poisonous. Who ignites a fire in you that once only music could. Who becomes someone you could die for.

You just never thought he might be the one dying for you.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

It was supposed to be another normal hunt. Maybe a werewolf. Maybe a poltergeist. Something simple enough.

But now, you’re tied to a column, blindfolded and drowsy.

Someone injected you with dead man’s blood. Usually, what would knock a normal vamp flat might only give you a migraine. But whoever took you must’ve pumped you with liters.

You smell them before you hear them. Vampires.

Your blindfold is yanked away, and you have to blink a few times for your extra-sharp vision to adjust to the light.

When you finally focus on the girl in front of you, you groan.

“Why can’t you pesky nests leave me alone?”

After the New Orleans incident, rumors started spreading through the supernatural world. Stories of you killing fledglings with your bare hands. Murmurs about you targeting nests just for fun. Whispers about you siding with hunters.

Now, you’re public immortal enemy No. 1.

“Because we’re tired of you,” the girl—red-haired, crazed-eyed—spits. She smells like dog. An animal feeder, maybe. Ugh.

“You think you’re so much better than us. It’s time someone puts you in your place.”

I just wanted to play music, you think. But you have a feeling that wouldn’t help.

I am quite literally better than all of you. You keep that to yourself, too.

You roll your eyes, unfazed, already trying to plan your escape—how to break out of these silver chains and walk out of here.

“You think you’re so unpunishable.” Red grabs a dagger. You snort. Yeah, like that’s going to do anything to you.

“You’re so arrogant,” says another vamp, this time a guy. Crooked smirk, eyes like a psychopath.

Great. I got kidnapped by the immortal version of the Manson Family.

“See, we know we can’t really hurt you,” Red says, backing away. “But we found a part of you we can hurt. Your humanity.”

Your mind scrambles. 

What the hell does that mean?

Then you see it: a chair in front of you. Someone tied to it. Sack over their head. 

But even under the stench of decay and dust, you’d recognize that scent anywhere.

Oh no. No.

Red cackles and signals to her goons. They rip the sack away.

Dean.

There’s a gag in his mouth, and dirt is smudged on his cheeks, but he looks otherwise unharmed.

“You fucking bitch.” You snarl at the vamp.

She hisses at you—and you hiss back.

All the vampires in the room freeze at the sight.

Your fangs—just two, but a lot bigger, sharper, and more imposing than theirs—are an aspect highly exploited in the myths about you. The Dark Heiress, with fangs as sharp as knives. Two small punctures on the necks of her victims. Different. Better.

Red composes herself quickly, but there’s a flicker of doubt in her eyes now—a sharp twinkle of mistrust, like she’s not so sure about her little plan anymore.

“Stories are told about your lethality,” she sneers, slowly circling toward Dean. “And yet here you are, all infatuated with a hunter of all creatures.”

She stops behind him, fists a hand in his hair, and yanks his head back. Dean groans. Red glares at you over his shoulder, eyes wicked.

“Little miss scare-all got herself a boyfriend.”

You struggle against your restraints as the room erupts with laughter. Your eyes stay locked on Red—you’re not brave enough to meet Dean’s. Your chest heaves with fury, hands trembling when he groans in pain.

“You hurt him,” you whisper. Somehow, your voice echoes through the room like thunder. “And whatever myths you’ve heard about me? They’ll look like bedtime stories.”

“Oh, really?” Psycho-eyes says, eyebrows raised. “You’re trapped, bitch. And you’re gonna sit there and watch us bleed your boy-toy dry.”

Red steps in, pressing the blade to Dean’s cheek—flat at first, just the cold kiss of steel against his skin.

A wave of fear rises to meet the fury in your chest. You finally meet Dean’s eyes.

He’s already looking at you.

He looks annoyed by the situation—because of course he does. Only Dean Winchester would be irritated instead of afraid while tied to a chair.

But there’s something else in his eyes, too. Just a flicker. A whisper of something deeper.

Dean mumbles something under his gag. A joke, probably. Of course it’s a joke.

If you didn’t know better, you’d swear your heart just started beating again.

Oh, Winchester. What have you done to me?

That’s when Red makes the first cut.

She slashes across his cheek, warm crimson dripping down his face. Dean hisses, eyes squeezing shut in pain.

The scent of his blood hits you instantly—sweet, richer than anything you’ve ever smelled. It calls to you. Tempts you. But there are more important things than hunger.

The bloodlust fades the second Psycho-eyes yanks the gag from Dean’s mouth.

“I want you to hear him scream.”

“Like that’s gonna happen,” Dean spits, throwing his head back. “Do you get your inspiration from shitty horror blockbusters? Because your lines suck, man.”

“Give them a break, Dean.” You click your tongue, tone condescending. You shoot him a mischievous look. “Must be all the dog blood rotting their brains. They’re trying their best.”

Dean laughs—the kind of laugh you’ve learned to recognize as performance. Low. Gravelly. Hot. But fake.

His real laugh is nothing like that. It’s squeaky, messy, too-loud. Your favorite by far.

“So, you’re such failures you can’t even feed from humans, and you think you can take her down?”

He doesn’t say it with fear. Or disgust. He says it with pride.

Like he knows you’re better than the rest of them. Like he’s proud you are. Proud to have you on his side. Like you’re something worth bragging about.

Your stomach flutters.

Then the punch lands.

A fist cracks across his jaw, blood flying from his mouth. And this time, Dean actually looks like he’s in pain.

They start to cut away at him. Small gashes everywhere, bleeding steadily.

It erases any trace of amusement from your face. You keep trying to fight against the silver chains, panic rising in your throat.

But Dean keeps his promise. His mouth stays shut, not a sound coming out of him.

When the vamps notice that their method isn’t working, Red signals for Psycho-eyes to grab something else.

You feel sick with anticipation, dread building in your chest.

And then you see it: a machete.

It confuses you—why would they switch to a weapon that would do the same job?

The nauseating realization hits when Red slices into her own arm.

“Since the famous Dean Winchester feels like fraternizing with vamps lately,” she says, eyes locked on you, “why don’t we give him a taste of it?”

She doesn’t even glance at Dean.

And just like that—You see red.

Dean had been built as a killing machine, trained from childhood to be the perfect little soldier. What could be more devastating than being forced to become the thing he hates the most?

Being forced to become like you, and have him hate himself as much as he inherently hates you.

You couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear to see Dean go through the transformation—the pain, the burning thirst, the cold. To see him forced to attack the very people he’s spent his life trying to save. To hear him beg Sam to kill him. To watch him get himself killed by another hunter when Sam can’t.

The sheer of panic in Dean’s eyes is your last straw. 

You yank on your restraints so hard, the entire column shakes. Actually fucking shakes.

Concrete dust rains from the ceiling. The floor trembles. Everyone in the room looks up as the whole structure begins to hum.

You pull again. The column cracks.

You don’t feel the chains biting into your skin. You don’t feel the strain in your muscles. All you see is the blood running down Red’s arms— and the way it’s meant for Dean’s mouth.

“Stop!” Psycho-eyes yells as the cracks crawl up the ceiling. “W-we’ll let him go!”

“Like hell we will!” Red snarls, turning toward Dean, ready to feed him the blood.

That’s when you break free.

The silver chains rip clean through the column.

Your vision narrows, and all you can think about is that you want them dead. All of them, every single creature that has ever made Dean Winchester bleed, anyone who even dreamed of getting their claws around his neck. You would destroy them all.

Two vamps lunge at you. They’re quick, but you’re quicker.

You dodge their attack, then get a grip on their hair and smack their heads together. There’s a gruesome crunch of skull breaking skull, but you ignore it.

More vamps come at you, and you pull them apart piece by piece. Your head is underwater, the look in Dean’s eyes flashing in your mind as you sink your teeth into a vamp's jugular and yank.

You move like lightning, striking and deadly, covered in blood—their blood—and leaving a trail of dead bodies behind you.

The walls crack even more as you smash a young vamp’s head against them. Again, and again, and again. Until his brain spills out onto the peeling paint, and the ceiling feels like it’s about to fall on you.

Another three vamps are ripped into bloody piles on the floor, and then only Red and Psycho-Eyes are left.

You walk slowly toward them, a vamp’s jaw still hanging from the tip of your fingers. Blood drips behind you, your hair wild and floating around you like smoke, your eyes glowing with red, murderous rage.

Ten vamps killed, not a weapon in your hand. 

Your steps are heavy, pieces of the building falling down behind you. You look like you belong in a slasher—not as the final girl, but as the killer. 

Psycho-eyes stares at you with a panicked expression before turning and trying to run.

How cute.

You’re behind him in seconds, both hands wrapping around his neck.

“N-no! Please, it was all her plan!” His pleas fall on deaf ears, your mind not even processing the words. The venom running through your veins burned, your fangs ached, your hands trembled with the need to destroy. To protect. To save.

With unnatural speed, you drag Psycho-eyes until you reach the silver chains meant to restrain you. You wrap them around his neck like a noose and start to pull.

“Please,” the vamp begs again, turning to Red for help. But Red just stares, unmoving, not helping.

For a moment, you feel a fleeting pity for him. Oh, silly boy, trusting the wrong bloodsucker.

You soften your grip on the chains, a moment of hesitation, and then Dean screams.

Psycho-eyes’ head hits the floor with a loud thud, his body following soon after.

Red has her dagger pressed against Dean’s neck, the steel just grazing the skin. But there's an expanding stain of blood on Dean’s thigh—his scream, you assume, is from that.

“Get the fuck away from him.” Your voice is unrecognizable, deeper than usual, darker, almost ancient. There’s still a melodic edge to it, but now it sounds less like a song on the radio and more like the chant of a long-forgotten coven.

Red looks around, staring with wild eyes at the lifeless, scattered bodies of her nest, slaughtered like prey.

She seems to realize she won’t win this fight.

She'd sealed her obituary the moment her blade first nicked Dean’s skin.

You continue to walk towards her at the same slow pace, savoring the way her face falls, the hopelessness drowning the anger in her eyes.

But then her eyes harden again, and her hand twitches. You react before she moves, but you're still not fast enough.

Red’s dagger slices through the soft flesh of Dean’s neck, and she looks ready to cut his throat open from side to side.

You jump her before she gets the chance to.

Your bodies hit the floor, your knees scraping but healing just as fast. Your fist drives down into her face, and her cheekbone shatters under your knuckles. You've never been one for unnecessary violence. When you have to kill, you like to make it quick. You could have grabbed her dagger and decapitated her, you could have used your fangs to tear her throat open, you could have ripped her head off—messy, but efficient.

Instead, you keep punching her. Your fist collides with her face again and again and again, until her face is nothing but mush. And you don’t stop.

Because they had taken everything from you. Your music, your town, your freedom. They had stripped you of everything that had ever made you happy, and you shook it off and kept going.

But him? You won’t let them take him.

Not when he has woken up feelings inside you that you’ve been considered dead to. Not when he makes you burn, makes you feel alive, drives you insane with something you dare not name.

A gurgly, choking sound makes you snap out of it. 

Red is immobile under you, her head almost blended into the asphalt of the floor. 

So the sound doesn’t come from her.

You turn around frantically, searching for the only other living person in the room.

Dean is on the floor now, bleeding from the nick on his neck. His hands are wrapped around it, but blood slips through his fingers.

You’re next to him in the blink of an eye.

“Dean,” you whisper desperately, eyes burning with something wet—a sensation you haven’t felt since you were a little fledgling, and Father took away the maid you were feeding on.

Dean tries to say something, but his voice gets stuck in the back of his throat, and more blood gurgles out of the wound.

“Shhhhh. Don’t talk, Dean.” You try to calm him, but your voice is too shaky, your breathing too ragged. “Let me see, darling. Please.”

You have to peel his hands from his neck, but you finally get a clear view of the gash. It isn’t too deep, to your relief. You took Red away just in time.

But it’s still deadly, and Dean would be gone before you could get him to a hospital.

There’s no way to do a tourniquet, no way to temporarily bandage the wound, no way to save him by any human means.

But there is something you can do. Something so unnatural it will disgust Dean to his core, something he would never allow. Something he will hate you for.

But you can live with that. You can’t live without him.

“Dean! Look at me, darling.” You grasp his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes. He’s scared, and you would endure every single torture ever created if it meant never seeing him like that again. “I need to close this wound, okay? I’m gonna help you, but you need to trust me.”

His eyes flutter shut, and panic rises in your throat like bile, burning and sickening.

“No, no, no. Stay with me. Dean, please.”

Clear, salty drops fall from your eyes onto his bloody cheeks, and he slowly blinks his eyes open.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper before latching your mouth to the wound in his neck.

Dean makes a strangled sound, his hand coming up to grip your shoulder, trying to pull you away.

But you’re stronger, and you don’t budge.

Dean’s blood is even better than you could’ve ever imagined. You had forgotten what real warm blood tasted like. It’s thick, rich, sweet. It tastes like heaven and hell all at once. Like darkness and light. Like whiskey and pie. Like love.

Your fangs ache to sink into the tender skin, but you don’t. You just run your tongue over the small slit made by the dagger, letting your saliva coat the area.

As a creature designed to feed—and to rule—rather than just to kill, your anatomy is smart. You needed a way to drink from people and stop the bleeding before they died. Or else there would be rumors. Or else you’d run out of servants too fast.

So, your saliva can heal the punctures made by your fangs in seconds.

It takes longer when the wound’s origin is external, but it’s all you have.

Dean’s grasp relaxes when he doesn’t feel the sharp point of your teeth, and you place a hand over his heart, just to be sure.

Bump-bump, bump-bump, bump-bump.

With the steady reassurance of his heartbeat, you let yourself focus on the healing.

But it’s a bit hard, with the way Dean’s blood coats your tongue and fills your nose. It slides down your throat like bourbon, makes you feel high on ecstasy, makes you want to never stop.

But you do, eventually. A few minutes later, the metallic taste fades, leaving only the salty flavor of skin. Fighting all your instincts, you detach your mouth from Dean’s neck.

Now, only a tiny little scratch mars the skin.

Dean lets out a tiny sound, something between a groan and a whimper, that makes you turn to him.

His chest rises and falls rapidly, the stab on his leg is still open, and he is still bleeding from all the other places they cut him.

Oh, you could kill them all over again.

“You’re terrifyingly hot.” Is the first thing Dean whispers, and it takes you out for a second.

But then a piece of the ceiling falls right next to his head, almost turning him into a pancake.

That’s when you notice the building collapsing around you.

Cracks line the walls. The column you had cut in half has crumbled, now just blocks of concrete scattered across the room. The ceiling is slowly caving in.

“We need to get out of here.” You turn back to Dean, his blood still all over your mouth. You grab his arm and pull him up, ready to flee as more and more chunks of the building break apart around you.

To Dean’s credit, he lasts a whole three steps. His arm is around your shoulder, but even with you supporting half his weight, the wound in his leg makes it too painful to move with the necessary speed.

“Goddamn it, just come here.” You tug Dean’s arm, and in less than a second—without breaking a sweat—you pick him up bridal style.

“What the—?” Dean yelps, limbs flailing and eyes wide. He ends up wrapping his arms around your neck tightly, scared you’ll drop him. He’s taller and broader than you—there’s no way you won’t drop him.

You don’t.

“Stay still,” you grunt, adjusting your grip under his knees as you move expertly through the collapsing building, dodging falling chunks of roof and broken beams that rain down around you.

Dean is heavy in your arms, but not too heavy. His grip around your neck is tight, but not too tight. The bite of his nails in your skin hurts, but just enough to keep you alert. It’s as if he fits perfectly in your arms, like that’s where he belongs.

Good concept for a song.

You make it out of the front door just in time to cross paths with Sam, whose desperate expression melts into utter disbelief and confusion when he catches sight of you sprinting out of the crumbling building. You walk right past him, laser-focused on getting Dean to safety.

“What the actual—”

He doesn’t get to finish. The front door implodes right behind you.

Immediately, Sam spins around and follows.

Even with his impossibly long legs, Sam struggles to catch up with you.

You reach the Impala in seconds. Your muscles begin to relax, your mind clearing now that you’re sure—truly sure—that you’re safe. That he’s safe.

Something dark and possessive curls low in your chest, begging you not to let go. To keep him pressed against you forever. But you force your arms to release him.

Gently, carefully, you help Dean stand. You guide him to lean against the Impala. He groans when his weight settles on the wounded leg, but there’s more clarity in his eyes now.

“Can someone—” Sam finally reaches you, wheezing and wide-eyed. “Explain to me what the fuck is going on?”

Neither you nor Dean answer.

You’re too busy avoiding each other’s eyes. Dean shifts against the Impala, a fresh blush rising on his cheeks—probably from the sheer mortification of being carried like a bride.

You don’t let yourself think of any other reason.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

The ride back to the motel is uncomfortable. Sam is behind the wheel as Dean and you slowly fill him in on the ordeal you just had to live.

None of you mention the cut on his neck.

But Dean can’t stop thinking about it. About your tongue on his skin, about the way your hand had pressed down on his chest, about how you had tasted his blood, about how you had stopped.

Dean knows he should be terrified of you right now. He should be throwing you out of the car, he should be yelling to Sam about what a monster you are. Instead, he can’t get rid of the heat simmering in his stomach.

You had destroyed a building to save him. You had literally made a whole infrastructure fall apart with your bare hands for him.

He doesn’t know what to do with that.

The whole way to the motel, he just stares out of the window, muttering distantly when Sam asks something.

He’s used to having pretty women hanging on his every word. He knows how to work his way through sweet, mean, violent, sensitive. He knows how to dodge "I love you’s" and how to reach their beds. He knows how to not get attached, and he knows how to leave.

But what he doesn’t know is the pressure on his chest. He doesn’t know the skip of his heart, or the softness in his eyes, or the need to hold that chokes him whenever she’s near. He isn’t used to not having to protect; he isn’t used to being the one protected. And he definitely isn’t used to being picked up like a ragdoll.

He’s familiar with wanting, but not with having. He doesn’t let himself indulge in useless fantasies. But now, he isn’t so sure he can keep his distance anymore. He isn’t sure he wants to.

He isn’t used to loving, but he could grow to be.

With you.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

You’re sitting outside the motel room, smoking a cigarette while Sam treats Dean’s leg.

The thick smoke from your Marlboro Black Gold slowly makes its way down to your lungs. You keep it in until it burns, the sensation pulling you away from everything else. You blow the smoke out, lazily making rings with it.

“Nice party trick,” a deep voice says from behind you. You don’t get startled; you heard his steps approaching the door and the small squeak of it opening. “I could never quite get them right.”

“Well, I’ve got a few extra years of practice.”

The wood of the small stairs leading to the motel creaks when Dean sits beside you. There’s gauze wrapped around his thigh, small bandages scattered across his body, and your eyes quickly move to his neck. There’s only a thin, pale line now. It almost looks like he nicked himself while shaving, but you know better. Both of you do.

You offer Dean a cigarette, but he just shakes his head, eyes darting to the dark sky.

You take another drag and turn to face the night too. Your eyes find the moon, the only friend still with you after all this time, and they stay there.

The silence wraps around the two of you for a long moment, as asphyxiating as it is comforting. You continue to savor the dark taste of tobacco as your ears pick up the sound of cars driving down the interstate and the cicadas hiding in the greenery.

“You stopped.” It’s not often that you are taken aback, but Dean always manages to do it. You turn around, blowing the smoke away from his face before raising an eyebrow, confused. “You—your mouth was on my neck, on an open wound, but you stopped drinking.”

Oh. You two are talking about it, it seems.

You turn to look at the moon again, trying to find wisdom in her. She seems to glow brighter, almost as if encouraging you.

“I did,” you whisper, taking one last drag from the cigarette before tossing it to the ground and stepping on it with your chunky boots.

“You also saved my life.” You open your mouth to argue. “No. You did.” Dean takes in a deep breath, as if considering exactly what to say. “People around me, especially people I care about, usually end up dying.”

The sudden change in topic makes you face him again, noticing his lowered eyes and clenched jaw. He’s nervous.

“The life Sam and I lead, it isn’t easy, nor safe. Though you probably noticed that already.” He chuckles, head hanging low. You tilt your head, observing him, taking in all the little details. The way his skin wrinkles when he smiles, the way his hands shake slightly, the way his eyelashes flutter. All the signs of his humanity, of his aliveness. “I’ve lost many people, pushed away even more. I accepted that I would never be able to get close to someone, not without them dying. But—”

He pauses, finally turning to look at you.

“But maybe you can survive me.”

A shiver runs up your spine violently, and that prickling sensation in your eyes returns. You try to find your voice, but for the first time in your existence, it fails you.

“I’m not sure you can survive me.” you whisper, barely audible over the cicadas.

Dean chuckles again, but this time it's more genuine, his eyes sparkling, and your stomach flips so intensely at the sight that you think you might just vomit.

“Believe me, sweetheart, I’ve survived worse things.” That makes you chuckle, but there’s still hesitation in your eyes, still a tremble in your hands that ache to wrap back around him. “With the amount of times I’ve come back to life, I might be as immortal as you.”

The laugh that you choke out is bitter, scared. “You don’t care that I’m a monster?”

“No. I’ve met humans who could be considered more of a monster than you ever could.” He says it with such conviction that it washes down your spine, circles back into your chest, and wraps around your lungs, making it hard to breathe. “You don’t care that I’m mortal?”

So, he knew. Dean wasn’t half as bad at feelings as he pretended to be.

“I did.” You mutter, looking down at your hand as you fidget with one of your rings, the one that resembles the head of a dragon. “It still terrifies me, but after today—” your voice cracks, something that had never happened before. “After I almost saw you die, I realized that… it doesn’t matter if I act on my feelings or not. Losing you will be hell either way.” There’s a dense silence, even the cicadas stop singing and listen in. Dean’s hand wraps around yours, and it makes you look up. “I might as well do the most with what we have.”

Dean leans forward, and your lips meet in a perfect collision of desperation and yearning. You fit like you're made for each other. There had always been a hole in your chest, a gaping void that longed for something, someone. You had tried to fill it up with booze, drugs, sex, music. But it was never satisfied.

Now you know why. It’s because what you were missing is Dean.

You think back to that one Greek myth, the one you witnessed being written, about how humans once had four arms, four legs, and two faces before being split in half by a fearful Zeus. And you think he was right to be afraid, because with Dean’s hands on your waist and your hand cupping his cheek, you’ve never felt more fucking powerful.

What rhymes with Zeus

Your tongues meet, and you taste beer, tobacco, and just a hint of metal. It’s perfect. Your hands roam all over each other’s bodies in an almost choreographed manner, with the expertise only years of experience could bring.

Dean is a good kisser, an excellent kisser even, but just like in everything else, you are better.

With the agility of a cat, you slide into his lap smoothly. You bury your hand in his hair, pulling with enough force to send a tingle down his spine but not enough to actually hurt. You lick behind his teeth so sultrily it renders him useless for a second. You bite his lip just hard enough, your fang digging into the skin but not breaking it.

Dean’s groan is so deep and loud that it reminds you that you’re outside.

It wouldn’t be your first time doing something outdoors, but Greeks were more chill about that than modern Americans.

You pull back from the kiss, laughing when Dean chases your lips. You use the grip on his hair to keep him in place, making his breath hitch and his pupils explode.

“You better go pay for a new room.” Sam’s voice makes both of you turn around. He’s leaning in the doorway, trying to look annoyed but looking so fucking proud. “Because I’m not sharing with you two freaks.”

The door slams shut, and you hear at least three different locks clicking.

“My pajamas are in there,” Dean grumbles, his upper body still twisted as he glances at the closed door.

You lean forward, your mouth hovering over his ear.

“Oh, you won’t need them, darling.” You whisper, smiling wickedly when he turns to you. “Remember that I don’t sleep?”

“Goddamn it.” Dean shuts his eyes tightly, almost looking like he’s in pain. It makes your smirk grow.

“Why don’t I show you what unfaltering stamina looks like, hm?” With the same effortless motion you used to move into his lap, you slide away and stand up. You pull on his hand until he’s standing too, looking down at you with dark eyes and a twitch at the corner of his mouth, pure and repressed desire bleeding from his pores.

You try to walk away, but he uses the grasp on your hand to pull you against his chest. You let him, your arms circling his shoulders, and the giggle is swallowed by his mouth when he leans in for another kiss. His hands travel down, past your waist and over your hips. They find your ass, sliding under the tiny fabric of your black jean shorts.

He grunts, squeezing hard, and you almost wish you could bruise, just to have the imprint of his hand on your flesh, marking you, claiming you.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since—” Dean breaks the kiss, his lips shiny and his eyes hooded. “Since I first saw you on that stage, twirling around like a little demon.”

You laugh, velvety like the smoke of your cigarette and sharp like a knife. You lick your teeth, watching Dean follow the movement carefully.

“Me too, since I saw you sitting at that bar.” You hesitate for just a second, eyes shifting nervously. “I wrote a song about you that night we danced in the bar.”

You force yourself to watch Dean’s reaction, studying the way his eyebrows raise and his breath catches.

“You wrote a song about me?” You nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Have you—written more?”

He sounds hopeful, excited, like a little kid who just got told they're going to Disney. It makes you melt inside.

“Maybe I have a few verses I've written here and there,” you murmur, like it’s nothing. But Dean’s eyes brighten, and he almost bounces with contained happiness. Adorable. “I may or may not have even recorded a demo.”

“Now you gotta show me,” he demands, pulling you even closer.

“No way. Never,” you refuse, thinking about all the sappy and mushy stuff you’ve written in the past months that makes you cringe.

“Come on,” he says your name, and he says it with such affection that it makes your knees weak. “You can’t drop something like that and then not show me.”

“Let’s see if you live up to the expectations first.” He raises an eyebrow, but his chest puffs at the insinuation of a challenge. “There’s a lot of talk about how good Dean Winchester is in bed. How about we test that first, and then we can talk about that demo?”

Dean’s grin widens, sharpening into something almost dangerous.

“Oh, you got it, sweetheart.”

And he proves himself, alright, if the noise complaints from the other guests are anything to go by.

“I cursed the gloom that set upon us But I know that I love you so”

NOTES: If I have to be honest, this is my favorite part so far. Part 4 might just dethrone it, but I doubt it. nyx is such a badass I wish I was her. Anyway pls pls pls let me know what you guys think and I hope you liked it! part four coming out any time soon (spoiler alert: feeding happens).

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess @tinas111 @blossomingorchids @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @losers-clvb @pieandflannel<3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[emberphoenixisgoingtolive]

Nublar Six's study habits

in honour of me hitting the halfway mark through my exams, here's how i think the nublar six would study and the grades they get!!

Darius:

extremely studious

studies in Kenji’s/Brand’s room. cannot focus without being in the proximity of another person

works almost to the point of burnout before Brand/his mother/one of the N6 drag him to a theme park or aquarium to unwind

tutors Kenji on science subjects despite being two grades younger than him (Darius is three grades ahead science wise)

hosts virtual study sessions with the others

makes very detailed flashcards (digitally because his handwriting is terrible)

gets mostly A–A* but probably a B or C student in sports

best subjects are the sciences, particularly biology, and maths. he is so good at stem subjects. nerd [affectionate]

Brooklynn:

never actually learned how to study in all her years of homeschool

studies at her kitchen table (her bedroom is her sleep space)

the others teach her how (except Kenji cos he has no clue how to study either)

learns extremely quickly and gets mostly As with a few Bs and A*s

one of those annoying people who are good at everything (Yaz hates it)

her best subjects are the humanities–type stuff (geography, history, religious studies, economics, life skills etc) and english

Yaz:

pretty studious; probably has the most consistent studying habits out of everyone

very used to studying in unusual places because of fitting studying in between all her track events (she’s studied in locker rooms more than libraries)

has weirdly small writing

usually studies by doing practise questions

has one (1) google drive folder where she keeps all her revision material

can Not be listening to music while she studies

mostly As, A* in sports (obvs), and a few Bs

overall good at everything except english. it’s her worst enemy. analysing literature texts makes her want to flip her desk.

Sammy:

decent at studying but only because she does everything she can to make it more fun

her notes are the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen

ratio of actual notes:random doodles about 50:50

writes in gel pen with big, loopy handwriting

highlighter all over her notes

listens to music or lofi beats while she studies

carries around every book under the sun, “just in case i need it!!” even if it makes her backpack weigh about 20 kilos (45 pounds)

usually gets Bs and a few As

best subjects are english (she helps tutor Yaz ofc) and other languages. she’s fluent in Spanish, she might as well take it for the easy A

Kenji:

hates studying. would honestly jump down the stairs to get out of an exam. has done so once or twice

also has to have someone else near him or he won’t focus

very reluctantly has to ask one of the Bowmans to sit with him while he studies (they are all more than happy to oblige)

usually studies in the kitchen while mama Bowman is making dinner or doing her own work or smth

mama Bowman was a pretty good student and i hc she has a healthcare job of some description so she could help Kenji with the sciences

used to be a C/D student but since living with the Bowmans he becomes a B/C student

Ben:

hates studying. hates school. writes detailed rants on why the school system is fundamentally broken instead of actually studying.

doodles Bumpy in the middle of class in his notebook and thinks about running around the jungle

has to be forced into studying by the others. Darius has to bully him over video call

if he has to study it’s outside. being indoors suffocates him

gets As in biology, bare minimum grades needed to study paleontology and otherwise does Not Care

best subject is biology. everything else he hates with a passion.

[fuctacles]

Dude, That's My Ghost! - the smut

Ayo, the smut part of my gift for @hellfireloserclub is now up on Ao3! Tysm for the great prompts that made it happen :D <3 And thanks @steddieexchange for organizing! I love writing gift fics <3

First piece here, second below, or you can read it in full on Ao3

La Petite Mort

After a week of Eddie making him come before sleep, Steve finally asks:

"What do you get out of it?"

The hairs on his chest move gently with invisible fingers raking and tugging at it.

"...I like watching...well...that sounds bad..."

Steve laughs.

"Yeah, a bit."

"...it feels good...making you feel good...I always liked giving...and now it feels like..."

Steve waits, but when all he gets is quiet static, he frowns.

"Like what?"

".....like I have a body again...for a second...I can feel you against me..."

His eyes widen.

"Oh. I thought it was just my imagination."

"...what?..."

"When I come, it feels like you're here."

They ruminate in silence for quite a while, before the radio starts switching through stations, like Eddie's trying to grasp a thought. His thoughts must be going very far away, considering Steve stops recognizing the language of the stations he's catching.

"...la petite mort... "

Steve raises his eyebrows.

"The orgasm thing? Uh..." He knows Robin had mentioned it to him at some point. "The little death?"

"...oui..."

"Okay, come back to America, please," Steve snorts, and the stations start switching back. He hums in thought. "So it's like I die for a second? And our souls touch?"

"...that sounds... both sweet and disgusting somehow..."

"Yeah," Steve chuckles. "But do you think it's possible?"

"...dude...I summoned...a demon...everything is possible..."

"Fuck, you're right." He falls back against the pillows. "So when I die, will we fuck as souls?"

"...you proposing to me?..."

His next laugh is dry and humorless.

"I lost my soulmate, so might as well."

"...what happened?..." Eddie manages to ask softly despite the jarring sounds of the radio.

"I don't know," Steve shrugs, his mood plummeting. It's been half a year and it doesn't stop hurting, still doesn't make sense. "I met him and our marks just... disappeared."

"...wait!..."

"Dude!" Steve jumps, startled by the sudden peak in volume.

"...sorry, but... I saw your mark?...the little bird..."

"Ah," he smiles, genuinely this time. "It's Robin. I guess I was too greedy wanting two soulmates, right? She's my platonic one, but I was hoping the other would be The One, you know?" he sighs. "Still kind of cruel of the universe to dangle it in front of me and then just... yank it away."

"...what the fuck man..."

"I know."

"...I'd make a rebound joke... but that's just fucked up..."

They don't speak for a while, radio static being the only sound in the room.

"I mean, I still have Robin, and now I have you too," Steve thinks out loud, staring at the crooked ceiling. "I don't have a soulmate, you don't have a body, maybe it was meant to be."

"...you ARE proposing to me!..."

Steve laughs.

"Sure, why not? Wanna seal it with a kiss?"

It's fun, having Eddie around. Maybe the most fun he's had since high school. He doesn't tell Robin, afraid she'd try to psychoanalyze him, but she knows him too well and worries anyway.

"You never go anywhere."

"You stopped hitting on the babes."

"What about your bi awakening?"

So he goes out with her, meets new people and acts his best, thinking all the time how much better it would be in bed with Eddie, with the phantom touch of his hands and mouth. He can't get drunk with him, but maybe they could dance, somehow?

When he gets back, all the air is pushed out of his lungs as he's being pressed against the door.

"What the fuck, man?" he laughs.

"... I am...so bored..."

"Did you read through the books I brought?"

"...twice..."

An invisible mouth is assaulting his neck and he wishes it could leave marks.

"Jesus," Steve breathes out, "The library nerds will think I'm one of them—ah!"

He's suddenly pulled to the floor, his zipper flying open.

"You're that bored you need to suck cock?"

"...I always need... to suck cock...."

"Okay then, have at it."

It's only after he comes, ruining another pair of jeans, that he remembers his trail of thought from earlier.

"Do you want to dance?"

"...what...?"

"You can pick the song. I was at the club with Robin tonight, and I thought..." he trails off, shucking away his jeans and pulling up his boxers. It's quite an unorthodox dancing attire, but he doesn't know what his partner is wearing anyway.

The radio switches to something new. It's still heavy, the way Eddie likes it, but more suitable to embracing each other in a slow dance. A metal ballad. Something presses to Steve's front, grabbing his hips. He sighs.

"This is nice," he says, hands hovering before hopelessly falling at his sides. "I wish I could touch you."

His head is cradled towards an invisible shoulder. He can feel the pressure, but the comfort is barely there, and he wonders if this is all he's going to get until the day he dies.

They dance to a couple of songs before falling into bed, too exhausted for anything else. The presence of another person next to him lulls Steve to sleep.

Almost every day, he brings Eddie new books and newspapers, figuring it would do him good to be up to date with the outside world. Usually, he has nowhere to be, so he enjoys the scraps of companionship when he reads silently, while he pretends to be doing his coursework.

He's watching the pages of the local paper flip in the air, when suddenly, there's a slam on the desk they share.

"...HE...SHAVED...MY HAIR!..."

"Fuck!" Steve slams his knee against the wood. "What happened?!"

The newspaper slaps in front of him, on top of the books he's been half-reading through, and one of the photos dents under an invisible finger.

"...He!...Shaved!...My hair!..."

Corroded Coffin headlining at the Halloween Festival

"...He stole my body!...and my band!!!..."

"Eddie, please stop yelling," Steve winces at his ghost friend's volume. He snatches the paper to get a better look at the small, black-and-white photo.

"...Can't!..."

Eddie keeps trashing in his periphery, all the loose objects around them rattling like there's an earthquake. Steve swats him away, moving closer to the lamplight. He taps the face of one of the men in the photo.

"He kind of looks like that guy from the festival," he muses, turning both his head and the paper like it could make the photo clearer.

"...That's me!..."

"This," Steve points to the front-man with a shaved head and a guitar in his hand. "Is you?"

"...Yes...except...it's the demon!...and he cut my hair!..."

He stares at the photo.

"It was in May. I've talked to a demon. I shook hands with a demon." Then, a dreadful realization hits him. "Eddie," he chokes out. "What was your soul-mark?"

"...nail bat..."

"Oh my god..." He drops the paper and falls heavily back on his chair. "I saw it disappear." Involuntarily, he looks at the empty skin of his forearm.

"...What...was yours?..."

"A swarm of bats," Steve answers, tracing the space with his finger.

"...fucking love bats..."

He laughs.

"...why nail bat...?"

Steve hums. He doesn't like talking about it.

"I fought monsters with it," he gives the short version and Eddie, thankfully, doesn't pry.

"...that's badass..."

"Thanks," he smiles. "We're soulmates," he finally says out loud, then frowns. "Were soulmates?"

"...well...we both still have souls..."

"Right. But do you think he could have... fucked it up somehow? The bond?" Steve worries.

"...I still like you...and have no other marks...do you?..."

"Just Robin and you, apparently."

"...so..."

"So..."

"...soulmates?..."

"Soulmates." Steve smiles genuinely into the ether. 

Read more

[folkwhoreberry]

hopelessly devoted to you

lando norris x reader

or… the one where you and lando reunite after years of not seeing each other

word count : 2.2k

warnings : none really, one poor mention of sexual innuendo, lowkey enemies to lovers, english is not my first language!!!

on the radio : hopelessly devoted to you by olivia newton-john

🧡🏎️

you will never escape him.

here he is, your literal shadow, standing a few meters away from you at a gala event your brother’s invited to as a reporter and took you as his plus one.

god, will you ever leave me? you thought to yourself, internally rolling your eyes at the words playing in your head.

lando norris, the renowned racing driver, isn’t just anyone to you, no - he’s your mortal enemy, in simple words.

it all started at school, where you had to fight for just a bit of attention from the students to maybe, just maybe, have some friends. while he, the most popular kid, got it without asking. he always got everything he ever wanted, that son of a bitch. always flexing on everything he had, not caring about his grades, well not that he had to, he copied everything from all the pretty chicks bickering around him. while you studied your ass off, fighting for every grade and then acting like it’s easy peasy lemon squeazy.

the sigh of relief you let out when he left your school in favor of his racing career was huge, thinking you will finally get a moment of silence without having to hear his friends teasing you for being the grade’s nerd.

until - oh wait there he is, on the screen every time there’s a race, and of course your dad and brother just had to be formula 1 fans, more specific mclaren fans.

it all became even worse once your brother got a job in sky sports, when he started to go to races to report and interview the drivers before and after sessions, often dragging you with him to track because how could you say no to your sweet little darling of a brother?

how you ended up having a crush on him you don’t know, probably his charming personality, or his looks that get better every day, maybe his physique - you don’t know. but who’s gonna blame you? you aren’t the only one in that boat.

and now, with a bit of convincing, begging, and a promise to buy your dream bag, you’re here, at some charity event with your brother, trying to look as elegant as possible while drinking the overpriced champagne, desperately attempting to not choke on the bubbly drink in your hand when you heard a very familiar voice, now much deeper than before, whisper in your ear, “meet me near the bathroom in a bit,” before disappearing into thin air. you didn’t even get a look at him, just a quick wiff of his expensive cologne.

quickly wiping away the small bit of champagne that trickled down your lip, you walked away from the bar top you were standing at, smoothing out the long, silk black dress that you’re wearing as you walked though the tables and people, soon enough finding your way to the small hallway leading to the restrooms. with your heels clicking on the marble floor being the only sound apart from the muffled music and sound of people talking through the wall, your ears rung, your eyes searching for him, slowly making your way into the small, relatively quiet space with two door leading to the two bathrooms, jumping and whipping your head around once you felt a big, warm hand on your shoulder.

“didn’t think you’ll actually come here.” lando spoke, smirking at you as he looked at you with a mischievous look in his eyes, clearly hiding something under that pretty face of his. “what did you want, norris?” you said, trying to keep your composure as you looked at him, turning to face him so that now you got a look at his fancy suite, making sure to not let your eyes linger too long on his body before looking back in his eyes.

“what, can’t say hello to an old friend?” he said, still very proudly wearing his smirk, oh how annoying he was, will he ever get enough of teasing?

“we’re not friends, we never were and will never be.” you answered coldly, folding your arms over your chest and cocking your head to the side, almost as if your mocking his confident demeanor.

scoffing, his shoulders shook slightly, his eyes rolling at your words. “yeah, you’re right, I guess…” he said, his gaze lowering to the floor, staying quiet for a few moments before looking back at your face and speaking again. “so, what are you doing here?”

you shrugged your shoulders, unfolding your arms from your chest before moving to lean against the marble tile wall. “my brother begged me to come here with him, he’s a reporter for sky.” you replied, watching as he nodded his head at your answer. “and, uh… are you having fun?” he asked, cocking his eyebrows at you while you furrows your own. “why do you care?” you asked.

he sighed, taking one step closer to you and leaning against the wall as well, so that now your distance was under one meter. “I, well… umm…” he stuttered on his own words, making you try to not just laugh and roll your eyes at him. “didn’t see you in a while, how are you?” he asked, his voice gentle and full of softness you never knew.

“uhh, yeah, I’m alright. yourself?” you answered, internally weirded out by his sudden interest in you, though it did made you tummy swarm with butterflies of excitement. he nodded in response, muttering a small “yeah” under his breath.

this small talk didn’t continue further, leaving you both standing in front of each other in the deafening silence of the small hallway near the restrooms despite the soft music playing from a speaker in one of the corners.

this silence was broken by him after a few more moments of quietness. “so… what are you doing here?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious as to why your at this charity event, seeing at you probably have nothing to do with the organizers and anyone involved. “already told you, idiot. came here with my brother.” you answered, your eyes trying to read the expression on his face. he hummed and nodded at that, his cheeks turning a soft shade of red at the embarrassment of repeating his question twice, looking down at the floor for a moment, rubbing his palms together as he thought about his next words. “yeah, yeah, you’re right…”

once again the quiet set down around the two of you, you bounced your heel on the marble floor, the black shoe clicking on the tiles. “what did you want from me, anyway?” you asked, sounding almost defeated while trying to act like you want to go back to the main room, which you know you don’t.

“uhh, yeah, about that…” he started talking, his gaze moving to find yours again, looking into your eyes for a few moments before speaking up again, “just… didn’t see you in like, what, eight, nine years? wanted to see how you were doing, that’s it.”

“uhh, yeah, I’m fine, my job’s great, and I finally moved away to london.” you replied, trying to keep you voice calm and collected and not just straight up be excited that your crush of almost ten years actually pulled you aside and asked about your life. he nodded at your answer, starting to fiddle with his fingers as he continued. “have a boyfriend? or maybe… girlfriend? anyone?” he asked, making you question the odd direction that the conversation is going. “no, no one at the moment. broke up with my boyfriend, well now ex, around two months ago or so. why, you got anyone?”

he shook his head quickly at your follow up question, almost as if he was offended by it. “not really, though my team are trying to stick me in a pr relationship every other day, but I always tell them no.” he answered, the silence once again settling around the both of you, only broken by the quiet music and a quite messy looking couple stumbling out of the women’s bathroom hand in hand and walking back to the room where the event was happening.

“you don’t need to go back there?” you questioned, relaxing further against the wall you were leaning against, with your head now resting on the expensive looking tile, watching as he shook his head no at your words. “nah, I’m only here to look nice, don’t really need to say any speech or anything.” he said while shrugging his shoulders, taking one step closer to you.

“so… are we just going to stay here like this or what?” you asked, quickly realizing how the last part of your sentence can be taken in the wrong way. “uh, I mean, there is something I wanted to talk to you about…” his voice was soft and almost unconfident, the complete opposite of what you were used to after all those years going to school together, his tone usually being heard laced with arrogance and over-confidence. “spit it out then, I guess.” you said, waiting for him to finally speak and maybe you’ll find out why he asked you to come here in the middle of the event.

“umm, I don’t really know how to say it, but… I, like you, I guess? I don’t know, honestly, but I always had butterflies when I looked at you, ever since the start of middle school. I know it sounds stupid, I know, but… I just had to take it off my chest.” he spoke quickly, the words spilling out of his mouth like a waterfall. your eyes widened and jaw dropped slightly at his confession, you would’ve never thought that the boy who you thought despised you the most liked you. now, like a puzzle, many things clicked for you - all the looks he gave you in classes and hallways, you always thought they were dirty looks, was he just admiring you, just like you were about to do when you turned your head towards him all those years ago?

“god, I… I don’t even know what to say, Lando. I mean, I never thought that…” you said hesitantly, gulping down a lump of stress down your throat before continuing to speak, “that you like me back.” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the small hall. “you - wait, what? like you back? what do you mean, do you like me too?” he asked as soon as his brain processed your words, his eyebrows cocking in surprise and a small hint of a smirk lingering on his lips.

you nodded, looking down at the floor as your hand moved to fidget with the necklace around your neck - a habit you had while nervous since forever - biting your bottom lip as you thought how can you even respond to something like that. “yeah… yeah, I do. as dumb as it sounds, I like you, I can’t even believe I’m saying this to you.” you said with an airy chuckle, clearly one forced out of you to try and lift the nervousness around you two.

“wow, who would’ve thought… little miss (y/n) has a crush on me, I did my part in life, that’s it.” he chuckled himself, his eyes finding your own when you lifted your gaze from the floor. “so… what now? what do we do with that information?” you asked, desperately trying to hide the pink blush hue appearing on your cheeks, watching as he took two steps closer to you and shrugged, his lips sinking into his own lip to try and keep a father straight face and not smile widely.

“umm, dunno. wanna dance?” he asked, making you chuckle at his rather absurd offer. “dance? here?” you questioned, raising both of your eyebrow as you waited for his response. “yeah, I mean why not? it’s the bathrooms that are more farther away, we won’t get interrupted.” he said, his smirk now fully taking over his lips and stretching over his face. he leaned off the wall and held his hand out to you, waiting for you take his and yours. you chuckled and rolled your eyes and complied, leaning off the wall as well and placing you hand in his.

he intertwined his fingers with yours, his other hand finding the curve of your waist while yours was placed on his shoulder, the two of you swaying from side to side with the sound of “hopelessly devoted to you” by olivia newton-john starting to play from the corner speaker, your chests basically pressed against each other’s as you danced.

the sweet pair of you swayed from side to side while the song played, lando’s eyes fixated at you and a smile spread across his lips when you turned your head to look at him. he just stared into you eyes in silence, his gaze occasionally flickering down to your lips before looking back into your eyes and breaking the silence.

“can I… kiss you?” he whispered, the swaying coming to a stop as his eyes stared deep into yours, trying to find any answer in them for his question. you didn’t answer though, just simply stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his, the action taking him by surprise though he quickly came back to his senses and kissed you back, his hand leaving yours in favor of cupping your cheek in his palm gently.

you pulled away from each other after a few long moments that felt like hours, keeping your foreheads pressed against each other’s as each of your gazes burned into the other’s eyes.

you will never escape him. not that you’d ever want to.

————————————————————————————

© all rights reserved to folkwhoreberry. no stealing or copying will be tolerated.

a/n : ahhh!! first fic I’ve ever written, hope you like it!!💕

[shuenkio]

Pov: Tsundere 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ Enhypen ᯓᡣ𐭩

Genre: Fluffy

Pov: Tsundere enhypen

Paring: Enha X male!reader

Do not copy my works (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)⁠♥

Heeseung: In the third pov, he's the type of secret admirer, who's possessive, very jealous, and wants you to look at him only. whenever a guy or girl is near you, he's always at the crime scene, standing towering behind you, giving your friends a free dead stare, watching you closely while you are talking to your bff, And you don't even know about his presence in your shadow. He likes to walk you home even when you don't need him to and often gives you a strange signal every time. When you ask him, did he has a feeling toward you he just replies with a simple "Nope" However his actions speak in a different language as away the next day after you ask him. "No one can have you when I'm still breathing yeobo :) "

Jay: The principal's son is a walking fire in the school. He's cocky, flirty, hot temper and loves bully to those who are bad talk about him, only an appropriate is a pass. As soon as you transfer to this school, you draw his attention very quickly, because as the bully he is, he already got bored with the same victims and decided to give you some warm love instead. On the other hand, he's walking to his trap, he realizes that the moment you greet him with a short "hello" his heart almost gets shattered by your soothing voice. Your energy just brings him inside out, even though you're a guy but just by your existence alone, cast an unknown spell on him. Which makes him look awkward-cack-handed handed everytime he sees your face. "S-shut up! You failed the experiment who said I like some poor thing like you...or did i? "

Jake: The nerd guy who likes sports might be talkative to his friends but for you, it's different. Sometimes he likes to give you a hard time while sometimes he gives you a butterfly in your stomach. So confused yet so adorable. Over time, when it's a sports exam day, your p.e teacher assigns you to his team since you're bad at sports. Luckily you know how to play basketball too but not very good at it that much. It's the last match of the basketball game, sweaty, hot, and exhausted but you still keep your head on. This is the only chance to prove to Jake that you're useful too. The ball then passes to you, and you quickly run to the other team's goal, aiming for the net, with a piece of blessed luck you make it but during that time you're knocked by the other team member accidentally. You fall to the ground, slightly nosebleed, before blacking out on the spot. Jake saw you're blackout on the floor, immediately ran to you before lifting you in a bridal style, and sprinted to the nurse's office. later on, when you're awake with a band-aid on your face, you see Jake sitting beside you, watching you sleep. You're about to ask him what happened but he cuts you with "Do not try to impress me again like that, you're weak and y'know it. Just show your face every day is e-enough >:( "

Sunghoon: Laterally he enemies with you, all you do is breathe, still he got those headaches whenever you stand in his shadow. Try to act all cool and mysterious every day so you'd think he doesn't want to talk to you and avoid it at all costs. However deep down, he's watching your every move, secretly taking care of you, giving you the answers during the exam on purpose, nevertheless, you never knew he was doing it on purpose, he's more than happy that you never found out about his suspicious behavior. One day when walking back home, you got bullied by some bunch of bullies, boy didn't spare more time before jumping on them one by one, leaving them on the ground, blacked out. You were scared, bleeding and scratching your face. He then leans closer on his knee to check on you. You asked, your voice is shaking. "Wh-what are you doing here?" - "Shhh everything is okay now, let me take you home!" He ruffles your hair gently before giving you a piggyback to take you home.

Sunoo: This boy is so bad at acting all tough and mean, you know he's just doing it because you thought he wanted to look cool. However, he's still didn't treat you the same as his friend. He hates it when you're in a group project with him, talking to his friends, Don't fear him, and treat him as one of your friends when he does it opposite which somehow makes him feel slightly guilty. This action of his got the best of him when you're not in the class he'd put a snack under your desk almost every single day because he was scared to talk to you, too scared to say sorry and wanna be your friend or even more than a friend? During one fine evening, he asked you to meet him at the school's garden for some serious discussion about a project you both needed to do, it's sound not like a joke to you so you went right away. Once you arrived, you asked him what was wrong. He turns to face you with his tears streaming down his cheeks. He got on his knee and asked for your forgiveness out of a sudden. "Please M/n, I can't take it anymore, let's be friends again no-- I want MORE THAN A FRIEND THIS TIME, I LIKE YOU ALL ALONG-- why don't you know about it?"

Jungwon: A really hot temper one, can't say if both of you are friends or not because sometimes he's sweet and sometimes he's harsh as hell. Randomly staring at you in class non-stop which makes you very uncomfortable. One time during lunch break, when you were going to buy the strawberry milk, it was out of stock the moment you were about to buy it. you've been craving for those the whole day but now it's out? Ruin your lunch mood for real. He saw you wanted that strawberry milk so bad, he decided to walk to you and give you by himself and leave the canteen unspoken any words. Give you a dumbfounded moment. Your friends started to tease you after this scene happened from this day. As the day went on, he started to act more nice and lovely to you, as if he never shouted at you back then. You were stressing out that it could burn your brain until you chose to ask him the moment you saw him somewhere. "Why did I act all nice to you? Are you dumb or an idiot? Do you think I put zero effort before I make you mine?"

Ni-ki: Can't describe this boy how much he hated you the moment you walked into the classroom and introduced yourself. What's worse is the teacher assigned you to sit next to him, he just wants to murder someone on the spot but he can't do anything about it. Time is walking, he hated you but now, after spending some time observing you, he realizes you're just a shy person, everything you do is so soft and gentle, making him wanna swallow you and hide you inside his pocket. It's a pepero day, the day everyone exchanges the chocolate-coated cookie sticks with their friends or loved ones. The whole school is full of students who exchange chocolate together, even the teachers do this. Ni-ki get this opportunity to tell you his true feelings today after he developed a crush on you for a long time, so he decided to give you one while you talking to your friend. "Aww the bad boy give me a pepero, what's makes you want to do this?" You asked while giggling in a good way ofc. He stays silent for a second before finally speaking his mind. "Be my boyfriend dumbass, I can't stand seeing everyone having a crush on you from now on"

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥

Please do not copy my works (⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)

[0cta9on]

Aye yoo bud✌️

0cta9on Fluffy mode activated, I'm curious how you would write cute/fluff thought on Bae Nmixx.

The way that I see her, I thought she's the most normal member in Nmixx but I'm totally wrong. Her short hair like OmG🤧, I have always like girls keeping their long hair but she's making me think otherwise. Turns out she's the jokester in the group. She maybe doesn't get the most line in their songs but her part always makes me listen thoroughly especially during her part.

I know this may look like I'm jumping biases, but I'm just starting to notice everyone's charm.

- Haewon's latest live stream especially her wolf cut hair style, is just perfect🐺. She can be cute apart from her funny side in which taking most of the spotlight.

-Lily is always such a a ball of sunshine with her aussie accent korean. With her cute struggle to keep up with the Korean language🇰🇷.

-Now I'm starting to look at Kyujin more of a Maknae than ever🐱, she's a bit peculiar compared with other group's maknae, maybe the shocking fact that she's considered the "mother" among the members despite being the youngest.

-Jiwoo? I already went ham on her on the previous ask, totally didn't consume my daily dose of that Bae and Jiwoo tik tok video🤧.

-Where is Sullyoon? I'm currently abstaining myself from her, just a mere second of her appearance is going to make me go overdrive.😵‍💫 I can't get my work done if I kept staring at her for hours.

Hello mikeylo! I decided to use this opportunity to write a short about her instead of just doing fluffy thoughts, hope you don't mind :]

This was a fun one to write, somehow managed to finish it in the span of two hours :> Enjoy!

You’ve come to terms with the fact that you’re a “nerd” ages ago. Studying isn’t something you necessarily enjoy, but it’s a necessary task you must complete in order to secure your spot in the real world, where meaningless titles like “nerd” or “jock” hold no substance on one’s success and only those who truly work hard will stand the test of time. With finals inching ever closer, it’s vital to you that you don’t waste a single second—

“What’s up, nerd?”

A light smack to the back of your head tears you out of the flow state you were in while brushing up on previous study guides from the past year. There’s only one person you know that’s dimwitted enough to still throw out outdated insults like that, almost as if she’s a caricature of a high school bully from those 2010’s movies she claims to hate.

“Bae,” you grumble, “Why are you even here? I thought you said you were ‘allergic to the library’?”

She shrugs, plopping down into the empty seat next to you. “I got bored.”

“Okay.” You turn your attention back to the worksheets in front of you, trying to remember where you left off. “Not my problem.”

“C’mon, man,” she groans. “Let’s do something fun.”

There aren’t many things that threaten the future of your success; most issues can be waved away with a quick favor or a helpful push in the right direction. In fact, you already have the rest of your life meticulously planned out in a journal, complete with potential contingencies and multiple backups in case any problems may arise.

Enter: Bae Jinsol. The physical embodiment of everything that could and will stand in your way. You tutored her once two semesters ago, and you’ve regretted it ever since. Not quite a leech—you’re not that cruel—but her unyielding persistence alone is enough to make it so that giving her what she wants is the only viable solution you have. More often than not, this means hours of time wasted that could be spent towards perfecting your mind to the best it can be.

“I’m really busy right now,” you say.

“What could you possibly need to study for, you’re, like, the smartest person I know.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Knowing you, that doesn’t mean much— Ow.”

Bae slaps your arm, pouting at you. “That’s mean.”

You can’t help but grin at her expression. “You’re right, that was mean. I apologize,” you say, making an effort to sound sincere. “Now, I have a lot of work to do, so unless you’re okay with sitting there and watching me study, I suggest that you go and hang out with your other friends.”

She rests her head against the table, turning to watch you with her endearingly round eyes. “I chose to come here. I’ll stick to my decision like a real man.”

“Whatever,” you chuckle before turning back to the study guide.

It’s a bit difficult trying to study with an audience, but not a scenario you’re unfamiliar with. On the rare occasion that Bae doesn’t consistently bug you with her antics, you find her presence quite comfortable. Sometimes she’ll even ask about what you’re working on and entertain your little rants about discoveries you’ve made or thoughts you’ve been having, asking questions if she doesn’t get something. Her motivation to study is nonexistent, but her desire to understand is glaringly present.

Although, with nothing to talk about today, she gives you a good five minutes before breaking the silence.

“I’m bored again,” she sighs. “Let’s get boba.”

“What happened to sticking to your decision ‘like a real man’?” you tease.

“I’m a woman, jackass.” She leans into you, obscuring your view of the study guide with her face. “And this woman wants boba.”

The world around you freezes as the scent of her perfume lingers past your nose, igniting memories of warmth and coziness. The first crack in a wall that you worked too hard to maintain. 

“Why don’t you ask Haewon to go with you instead?” you suggest, trying and failing to avert your gaze from those perfect irises, like swimming pools of deep obsidian.

“Because…” A light blush grows on her cheeks. “...I wanna get boba with you.”

The crack in the wall splinters and grows, exposing the weaknesses that you didn’t know were there. Or perhaps, you did know and chose to ignore them anyways, spackling over them with cheap excuses.

You scoff at her, a meager attempt to save face. “You just want me to pay for you. Again.”

“I told you I’ll pay you back!” she exclaims, earning a couple harsh shushes from nearby students. “I’m just a little strapped for cash at the moment.”

“Why don’t you try, I don’t know, actually looking for a job?” Your gaze moves back to your papers, desperately trying to escape this stalemate. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.”

Bae clings to the sleeves of her sweater, pouting at you. “Please~?”

Despite her persistence, you dare not move an inch, worried that one small movement could be the final crack that topples the wall. Your eyes reread the same line over and over again, hoping each pass will eventually take, but your mind is too cluttered to properly focus. With the gentle tug of her fingers and the notes of vanilla bean gliding past your nostrils, it’s a wonder how you haven’t succumbed to her demands already.

With a huff of her breath, Bae takes your hand in hers, using her final trump card.

“Baby~”

You want to think that, at that moment, the wall came crashing down in a ceremonious fashion, leaving behind a pile of rubble in its wake, a monument to all the effort you put into your future. But the truth is, she tore down that wall months ago—in fact, you can pinpoint the exact moment of its destruction. 

The second you came face to face with her confused expression in that pre-calc class is the moment that sealed your fate, completely changing your perception of what the future could be like for you. That journal you keep, detailing every single miniscule detail of your potential career? You barely got two pages in before turning it into a scrapbook, filling every inch of paper with words, pictures, and keepsakes that remind you of the girl that refuses to give you a moment of peace.

And maybe that’s a good thing. The world could end tomorrow, rendering all of your plans useless. Why spend your last moments with your nose in a study guide when you could be drinking boba with your girlfriend?

“...You’re the worst, you know that?” you utter, interlacing your fingers with hers. Bae flashes you that wide, toothy smile that you can’t get enough of.

“Wow, you’re actually so obsessed with me, that’s insane,” she teases. “Just a single word and you immediately folded like an omelet.”

You haphazardly throw your belongings into your bag, eager to get out of the library and spend time with her. “I’m not obsessed, stupid,” you say,” I’m in love with you.”

“God, you’re so corny.” Despite her deflection, the blush growing on her face betrays her true feelings. She nervously scans the rest of the room before planting a sneaky kiss on your cheek, warm yet fleeting. “I love you too, stupid.”

It’s a fool’s errand to try and predict the future. No matter how smart you are, how many books you read, how many plans you make, the only thing you can do is hope for the future that you desire. And right now, the only future you want is one just like the present, with you clinging onto Bae’s hand with no intention of letting go.

[shapard]

Thorned 🥀

Human!Lucifer x fem!reader

Zombie Apocalypse Au

Writing the first words of a story really is a pain in the ass sometimes.

mention of SA and gore (English is not my first Language so errors ahead!)

And here I am to feed y'all another Lucifer x reader!!

In the Closet

Chapter 1 > Chapter 2

It should’ve been a normal school day in your boring life. You are a silent nerd student in college just trying to survive with all the college bills. 

Your parents aren't very supportive nor did they care about you. So, you moved out of your parents house trying to make something out of yourself.

And let's just say your mother wasn't pleased with the news and declined all your calls.

Not even your father bothers to get in contact with you. When you do get lucky he just shrugs you off and says he is busy.

Clearly a complete lie.

Your head laid on the desk not caring what the Professor is saying right now. 

Your life is pretty boring. No romance, no drama and no friends. Not that you mind. You're here for a good education rather than a tragic love story.

Your mind was drifting somewhere else and thinking about the rent you must pay. It was a struggle you wished you don’t have to face. 

Beside college you worked in two other part time jobs which drained you completely out. No private time or going out.

High school was the only time where you went out partying and met your ex-boyfriend. He was toxic and very self-centered.

A loud scream caught your attention. Your eyes travelled down towards the tumult that started outside. 

The Pick me girl from the upper class was screaming and pressing her hand tight on her mouth. Your eyebrows raised in question, even though she is the pick me girl she never reacted this terrified? 

There was screaming, gasping and sound of metal meating flesh.

Interested you watched the scenery as the girl got jumped by a guy. Shocked you saw how that guy, or rather that thing, ate her face bit by bit. Your heart felt like sliding down to your stomach, you wanted to puke. 

Her new boyfriend swung a baseball bat onto the monster. The bloody tone that played when blood started to burst out was disgusting.

It made you sick to the stomach.

This is different than any movie or series you watched. This is real. No actor playing a role and no CGI.

Soon enough alarm sirens rang through the town and in the college. You tried to keep a cool outside but the panic inside you was immense. The whole classroom was screaming and some even had panic attacks. 

This type of reaction wasn’t helping at all.

In your whole life of existence, you’ve never imagined that this could be really happening. 

A Zombie Apocalypse. 

You’ve seen it in movies and Series but never have you imagined that it really would happen.

The Professor closed the door and told you all to wait till the police comes and handle the little situation. But help never came.

You pulled out your half-charged phone hoping that the news would report that the government can handle this. All you saw was that the Police departments were under attack, and almost no one survived. 

The whole city was on lockdown. And you were hiding in your classroom with your classmates. 

The professor never came back. He probably died in the chaos at the own hands from his students who are just trying to protect themselves. or by Zombies. 

Now the classroom seems like a save place but for days, weeks maybe even years (when you’re still alive) you knew that escaping the college is the safest idea. 

Searching in the classroom for any weapon that could help you found a dissecting knife. You took it fast into your position before anyone can take it from you.

The classroom was quiet, too quiet. Like the calm before the storm. 

You must find a better weapon than the small dissecting knife that’s used for surgeries or inspections on dead animals. 

Most likely you wouldn’t find a weapon here in the classroom. 

Your eyes shifted towards the door that has been locked, in hope none of those creatures would come here. It was a fake feeling of safety. 

Everyone knows what a zombie is. But these are different. The way they move, the way they ate and who knows how they are created? Maybe a bite isn’t the only thing that transforms someone into a zombie.

A loud crashing sound made you snap out of your thoughts, and you looked at one of your classmates attacking one of your ex-friends. 

Everyone watched in horror and didn’t knew what to do for themselves. The screams pierced your ear and the other didn't move an inch.

Without wasting time, you ran to the locked door and jumped with full force in the hard wood door. You have to escape and watching a slaughter isn’t the way how you’re going to die.

The pain from the harsh compact against the door didn’t stop you. You will not give up and most likely will not die in here. 

Your classmates were watching how you were trying to open an escape but didn’t try to help you.

They were afraid that if they move that the zombie attack. 

Your friend laid there in full display; half of the face is eaten away by the monstress being. 

Your bone cracked slightly, you hissed in pain but continued. The adrenaline was pushing you to things you never thought you'd do. The pain only fueled more Adrenaline into your system.

Your heart raced a mile per minute. Your body heated up and you swung your body every time harsher against the wood surface.

Your skin, flesh and bone begged for a break, but you pushed your body against your limits. The door whined in protest as you lunged your body another time against it. 

The door burst open, and the blood covered college hall came in your view.

You stumbled forward when your other classmates ran against you, the others almost walked all over you. 

Your hands covered your body hoping it'll protect you from getting stepped over.

Assholes. 

You looked up from the floor, your breath hitched as you looked at your dead Professor. In the middle of the floor there laid your professor in a pool of blood.

Karma hit the guy that rammed against you in full force. Your professor raised and lunged at the defenseless boy.

His screams were unbearable to hear. The anxiety in your body only grows every second.

You wanted it all to stop.

You sat in the middle of the chaos, your skirt you chose to wear today was soaked completely with blood. 

You watched helplessly how your class clown got eaten in the most disgusting way. 

The zombie lunged towards his body as if he searched something, something that he misses. But what could that be? 

The zombie clawed with his short nails into the skin ripping the e guys fully open. Your body trembled under the disgusting sight.

As the professor seemed to not find what he was looking for, his body shifted to your direction. 

His arms stretched out wanting to grab you, and a sound escaped him, a terrifying one. 

Your body didn’t move as panic started to settle in, you’re the next to die. Tears started to burn their way in your eyes.  

You are terrified.

His other arm was ripped off and he was still bleeding. But the zombie professor couldn't care less. A lifeless body who was searching for something desperate.

A bloody sight you wanted to look away from but couldn’t.

A hand clasped around yours and pulled you up on your feet. You were being dragged across the college, you stumbled a couple of times but never fell.

Your gaze never left your professor though as you ran through the red painted halls. As he wasn’t in your sight anymore you looked at your savior just to see your ex-boyfriend.

Striker.

“Are you okay sweetie?” His deep voice was irritating for you and brought flashbacks from your relationship.

He tried in these couple days to get back to you even though he cheated on you. 

You forgot something in his house and just wanted to get it back. It was a short visit so you didn't tell him that you're going to pay a visit.

That’s when you saw Striker pounding into one of your friends Nova.

The betrayal was hurtful, you trusted her with all your heart and that stung more than some guy. Your heart ached from the loss of your boyfriend and your friend.

Striker only said the usual line: This is not what it looks like. Seriously these men need to have better excuses than this.

You pulled your hands out of his. “Fucking asshole, keep your disgusting question to yourself.” Striker rolled his eyes and tried to take your hand again, but you dodged his attempt.

“You got quite rude stallion. Remember when you used to get all cuddled up with me and begged me to dick you down.” He winked at you, and you rolled your eyes. 

A cold shiver went down your spine at his pervert comment. “You’re disgusting.” Striker hummed at your respond and looked you up and down.

“Only for you baby.” He purred and stroked your cheek. You slapped his hand out of your face and walked towards the exit of the college.

He didn't change a bit.

You’d rather find a way to survive than staying any longer with your ex. Ignoring striker is the best option right now. 

As you walked outside of the gates from the college grounds that was covered in corpses just to be met with way more outside. The sun was burning down on you making you sweat in anxious and the sudden heat.

A shiny object met your eye, it was a small butterfly knife. You sprinted towards it and danced in victory.

fuck yes! “Why are you dancing?” You cursed under your breath, “I thought you were already dead.” Striker chuckled and laid his hand on your shoulder. “You’re so mean baby~” He whispered in your ear. You wanted to gag at the nickname.

Since when was he behind you anyways? 

“I know a place where we can stay.” Finally, something helpful from striker. “Yeah? Where?” Your positive voice brought a grin up to striker’s face. “Just follow me hottie.” His grin only raises a suspicion, but nonetheless it was safer with him than with these monsters.

As you followed behind striker the anxiety in you only grew and your suspicion was high. You two were now in the middle of nowhere in some kind of forest. 

A large one at that. 

Your pace started to slow down a bit and you regret your past decision to follow your ex-boyfriend in some lonely woods. 

It’s not uncommon that exes kill their ex-partners. And in a zombie apocalypse no one would disagree with being a cannibal if it means to survive.

Humans were always self-centered. Even if some are generous. In the matter of living or dying every human is on their own and always just see themselves. Even you would hesitate when it comes to sacrifice yourself for a stranger.

Striker stopped and you walked right into his back, and you snapped out of your deep thoughts. 

You Apologized and asked striker, why he stopped so sudden. “You play all brave and mighty but here you are quivering in fear.” You didn’t even realize that you started to shake in fear.

Striker spun around and pulled out a rather beautiful knife, “Now listen little bitch. Either you’re going to do what I say, or we can do it in the more fun way.” His tongue ran across the silver, and he laughed in pleasure. 

You knew this was a bad idea. “What do you want striker?” 

Stand tall, stand tall Y/n. 

“I want you stallion.” His hand went out to grab your hair throwing you onto the grass ground. Confused you looked around and saw the butterfly knife laying peacefully in the green. It must’ve fallen out of your hand as Striker forced you to the ground. 

“You really thought you could break up with ME?!” His hand collides with your shoulder, and he pressed down hard.

You bit on your tongue to stop the groan of pain. The damage of the door breaking was still fresh and introduced itself. 

“Oh, babe you messed with the wrong one.” His knife ran across your cheek drawing red. His tongue ran across the new wound. 

Your hand searched for the weapon but it was too far away from you.

“Let me go Striker” It was like you’re talking to a wall; he pushes himself down on you. His erected member was pressed onto your thigh, and it was disgusting.

You really hoped that his dick wouldn’t be anywhere near you.You wanted to puke into his face right now.

“You’re so hot stallion. So pretty and perfect for me.” You spat in strikers face. Striker growled in anger, but you don’t regret it even a bit. And it only angered Striker even more.

“Fucking cunt!” He shouted out loud and you just smirked bitter. But when Striker started to smile you frown. What has he planned? His hand travelled down onto his belt, and you heard it buckle.

Oh no.

He laughed at you terrified face. Now he hit your nerve. Striker was about to pull his trouser down but got interrupted.

“That’s not how you treat a Lady, y’know.” Striker stopped as he heard another voice that wasn’t yours and you sigh in relief. 

Striker closed his belt back and let you go. Your feet pushed you away to the next tree and your eyes travelled to Striker towards your savior. 

He had a large smirk onto his pearl white face, he had a weird sense of fashion. A white cylinder with a small snake on it was on his head. He was kind of short for a Man. 

His eyes were brownish but a scarlet red shine through them, it fits perfect on him. Beautiful Man, beautiful eyes. You could watch hours in those eyes, it was like they were telling their own story. How they flicker and shimmer when the sun hits the iris was so beautiful.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Striker hissed, a reminder that he was still very near you. “Lucifer, not so a pleasure to meet you.” His smirk widens as Striker tried to attack him. 

Yep, tried. 

Lucifer dodged him perfectly and kicked with his heel right in the back from Striker. Striker hissed in pain and rolled on the floor. “You better leave and never come back to her, or you’ll regret it.” Lucifer voice was filled with Venom as he looked down at Striker. 

His eyes shrunk in a snake like eye, scary but sexy at the same time. With a whimper Striker ran far away from Lucifer. 

Fucking pussy.

Lucifer sighs and turned around to you. His hand stretched out for you to take it and you gladly accept. “Thank you for saving me.” Your thanking warmed his heart, “No Problem, it was the least I could do.” 

You felt save around the new stranger. Maybe it was again the wrong decision to just trust a random handsome guy but how can you not.

“Lucifer, right?” Lucifer nodded with his head. “The one and only, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Lucifer bowed his hat firmly in his hands and you giggle at his antics. “And who are you darling?” He readjusted his hat and smiled as you Introduce yourself.

“I think we both could use some help and company in this mess.” Lucifers voice was almost like a warm sun breeze. Complete contrast than strikers. “It all happened out of nothing. First the zombies and then this.” You didn’t want to cry but at that moment you felt weak. 

Your body betrayed you and you just cried in front of your new friend you could say.

_____

After a while you two found a cabin in the middle of nowhere. It seems to be a lost place, and no one lives in it. You and Lucifer planned to stay in the cabin for a while. 

Life in the cabin was peaceful. Lucifer was the greatest room mate you could’ve Imagined. He was supportive and helped around the household. A man that women can only dream about. 

Today Lucifer was out looking for any food he could find meanwhile you built up a fence. 

When Lucifer came back you couldn’t help yourself better than to watch. 

His shirt was draped over his shoulder and his god given abs and waist were showing. You gulped hard as you watch how the sweat pearls pearled down from his chest. 

His body was more than just perfection, you almost felt jealous because of that waist of his. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” He winked at you, and you only rolled your eyes which earns you a chuckle. 

“You’re so mean kitty.” You huffed and gave him a side eye, “I’d stop if you wouldn’t be so annoying.” Your hand stretched out to get another nail. You hissed as the nail pierced through your fingertips. Lucifer laughed at your clumsiness. “This is already the fifth time kitty cat. Or should I say sleepy beauty.” You rolled your eyes at him. Your heart skipped a beat at his newfound nickname for you. 

“Let’s get you patched up.” 

A/n: FINALLY I CAN SHARE THIS. So, First thoughts?

💫

@i-have-no-life-charlie @sirenetheblogger @concentratedconcrete @ylovei

If you want to be added please comment on the post I linked below under Taglist.

Taglist

[i-creatied-au]

When in Community "Rook's Roost" talked about Rook as a companion, I thought it would be fun to have Rooks chatting with eachother as companions do in the game. So I did few dialogs myself :з I hope "parents" of Rooks will like it (and please, write me, if I got their(Rook's) characters wrong :< I'll be happy to fix my text)

@jb-nonsense - Ogden Thorn

Esha: I'm surprised how many languages you know! It's... Almost four, right?

Ogden: Almost everyone know more than language on our lands, if you think about it.

Esha: Fair enough...

Ogden: I'm sure you know at least three

Esha: Wow! Where did three come from?

Ogden: Trade, Tevene and Qunlat?

Esha: Oh, no, no, I... I know only Trade and Tevene. I was raised by human parents. Plus it's... Where I lived, it was hard to find someone to practice Qunlat with.

Ogden: Oh, right...

______________

@bubblecat-co - Aria de Riva

Esha: So uh, I think I accidentally try your coffee this morning

Aria: Oh? It's alright, but I think we should pick different cups, so we won't confuse them again

Esha: Good idea, but it wasn't my point. I wanted to say... How the hell are you drinking such a strong coffee?!

Aria: What?

Esha: You heard me! It's super strong! How?! I took one sip, thinking it was mine and almost saw the Maker!

Aria: (laughing) You are exaggerating

Esha: No, I'm not! Seriously, how???

___________

@madrabbit014 - Nels Mercar

Nels: Again, I'm so sorry

Esha: Oh, relax. Little punch never hurt anyone.

Nels: You layed on the floor few minutes after the punch...

Esha: (interrupts) I wanted to say, that you don't have to feel sorry for it. I shouldn't have jump on you like that.

Nels: I got scared...

Esha: I just was happy to see other Shadow Dragon. Wanted to say "hi" and maybe hug you... Sorry, I should have approached more calmly

Nels: Oh... It's alright. I love hugs. But yes, maybe warn me next time, so I won't punch you again.

_________

@akuma-misery - Creep

Creep: Esha, are you ok? You're shaking.

Esha: N-no, I-I am f-fine

Creep: ...is it because we are walking near the river?

Esha: (sighs) Y-yeah... I'm not a fan of the w-water

Creep: I can see that. But don't worry, even if you fall in the water, me and Rook will pull you out

Esha: oh... Thank-

Creep: And if you drown, little fishes and other organisms in the water can have a dinner

Esha: ... I'm starting to understand why your name is "Creep". But thanks, now I don't think about the water

Creep: Glad I could help.

___________

@a-mumbling-nerd - Heloise DeRiva

Esha: I wanted to say... You are good dancer

Heloise: How did you know I dance?

Esha: I just heard humming in the music room last night, looked in and saw your dance.

Heloise: Uh...

Esha: Sorry, I didn't mean to be nosy... But your dance was really beautiful, I'm serious

Heloise: Thanks. Do you like to dance?

Esha: Pf, not really. I mean, I know some classic dances, but I can't move as smoothly as you.

Heloise: Well that can't be true. Your moves in the battle smooth and elegant. Fighting with two swords and dancing are not so different, you know?

Esha: Hm... Perhaps you right. So, when can I dance with you? ;)

Heloise: (chuckles) We'll see

_____________

@linposter - Nameless Rook

Esha: Remus? Regulus? Riven?

Nameless: You still trying to figure out my name? It's pointless, you know

Esha: I'm quite stubborn person. Plus, I'm a little tired from calling you out with "HEY, YOU! YES, YOU!"

Nameless: How about you call me... "Amicus"?

Esha: ..."a friend"? C'mon, you can't be serious.

Nameless: So no? And here I thought you consider me a friend...

Esha: Of course, I-! (sighs) You know what? Fine, Amicus. Have it your way.

Amicus: Glad we talked it through, Orana

Esha: Orana? Wait- How do you know my middle name?!

_____________

@picathartidae - Valentine Mercar

Val: You have a lot of scars.

Esha: Hm? Oh, yeah. What, want to know how I got them?

Val: No, no, I wouldn't ask such sensetive topic.

Esha: Eh, I don't mind talking about them. They are showing how strong I am. All attemps to kill me and I'm still standing!

Val: Hah... That's... Good way to look at them, I suppose. I'm surprised you have such view on them-

Esha: And I can make up stories about them to impress girls ;) and some boys

Val: Ah, yes, I thought something is missing

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

You Hear That?

Week #4 Prompt: Camping | Word Count: 3850 | Rating: T | POV: Robin | Pairings: Platonic Stobin, Pre-Steddie | Characters: Robin, Steve, Eddie, Corroded Coffin, The Party, Nancy & Jonathan | CW: Language, Recreational Drug Use, Underage Drinking | Tags: S3, Reluctant Camping, Unexpected Crossing of Paths, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Boys, Pre-Steddie, Flirting

This is set during the S3 finale. Happening between Starcourt and the "three months later" time jump.

"Camping. Capital camp. Lowercase…ing," Steve says, trailing off at the end, his forehead wrinkling up in confusion as he clearly tries to think through the dumb thing he just said.

"Well, that kinda fell apart on you, didn't it, dingus?" Robin asks, arching her eyebrow in his direction.

"Shut up. You know what I mean. Camping! Fun!" Steve shouts, far too close to her face.

"Back off, Boogaloo. And I beg to differ. Camping is not fun. Camping is torture, and I'm not signing up to be tortured with you again. One and done, at least per summer, that's my official policy."

Steve gives her the eyes, but they aren't gonna work. She's immune to his wiles. The Harrington Charm doesn't do anything to her loins, unfortunately for him.

"No," she says, and that's that. End of discussion.

Three hours later, here she stands, right in the middle of Hunting & Camping, a store in town she never thought she'd ever have to step foot into.

"Steve, you know what lives in those woods. Do you have a death wish?"

"C'mon! There's been nothing, nada, since Starcourt. It's done. Over with. Gone. We can live our lives, go camping, anything we choose."

"Great. But we do not choose camping," Robin insists, "We aren't camping people, are we? There's no haircare in the woods, Steve. Think about that. Long and hard."

"Fine. You stay here. I'll go camping alone," Steve says, crossing his arms across his chest.

"You're not going camping alone!" she screeches, because he'll be killed for sure.

"You're right, I'm not. The kids are demanding to come along. So, it's me and Jonathan."

"Well, that sounds fun for the both of you. Who will come home with a black eye? History says-"

Steve interrupts, "Yeah, yeah. Exactly. So, you have to go. You and Nance. So the girls can come along. Joyce will allow El to go, but only if you ladies go, too."

"Chief Hopper will roll over in his grave if El goes camping with Mike Wheeler present. You and I both know that."

"Well, good thing he'll never know, I guess," Steve says, defiant. "C'mon, Buckley. Are you with me or not?" 

She's always with him, now. That's just how it's gonna be, maybe forever. Or at least until they get eaten in the woods they have no damn business traipsing into.

"Fine, I'm with you. But mark me down as a hostage." 

"Great, love to hear it," Steve says, a big smile on his face, and she reluctantly smiles back. It's contagious, even if she knows this is a terrible idea for many, many reasons.

The trek out to Skull Rock is pretty shitty, but she keeps up. Walking alongside the not so prissy Nancy Wheeler, Erica, El and Max. She should have worn better shoes. Steve should have told her to wear better shoes. Nancy is in hiking boots and Robin is not at all surprised that she's prepared for life in ways Robin will probably never be. 

Up ahead, the boys are arguing, causing a ruckus, and Steve is clearly regretting this decision. Good. He should. This was a terrible idea of, like, epic proportions. Maybe worse than working in a mall with a Russian secret lair underneath it.

"How did you even get to come?" Robin asks Erica. Because she didn't expect her to be standing there on the curb with Lucas, her My Little Pony sleeping bag under her arm.

"Tina is covering for me, duh, so I can hang out with you nerds. Don't know why I even want to though," she says, snippy, and Robin grins. She's funny.

"Maybe we should have invited Tina," Robin says.

"And risk her seeing I even know you nerds? Absolutely not," Erica says, like she's totally disgusted, and Robin laughs. 

"Okay, hot shot," she answers, watching as Nancy stops behind Steve and the boys, as they scout out a spot that might work.

"Here?" Jonathan asks, and Steve nods, agreeing.

Steve is finishing putting up the tents, all of them, because nobody is helping him, not even Nancy. He kind of had this coming, it was all his terrible idea.

"You hear that?" Steve asks, head turned towards the sky, like he's a damn dog. 

"Hear what?" Robin asks. She doesn't hear anything. "Is it a monster? A bear? It better not be a bear, I swear-"

"It's not a bear. It's a guitar," Steve says, driving the last of the tent poles into the ground.

"A guitar? In the woods?" Who the hell would be playing a guitar in the woods. Probably some sort of demented fairy, destined to murder them all, given the opportunity. 

"I hear what I hear, Buckley. I'm gonna investigate," Steve says.

"Well, it was good knowing you, Harrington," Robin answers, because everybody knows you don't go blundering into the woods, especially if it sounds like you're being lured there, for fuck's sake.

Steve would definitely be the first to die in a horror movie.

Except, she knows that's not true. He's more capable than she ever could have expected, especially for being such a big dingus.

Steve just waves her off, and starts stomping off into the underbrush. Heading towards the sound she definitely doesn't hear.

But after a little hesitation, she follows. He can't go alone. She knows what could happen if he does.

"I knew you'd come," he crows, pleased with himself.

"Shut up, dingus," she mutters, and the further they walk, the more she thinks Steve was right. There is the faint sound of a guitar.

And laughing. 

Steve pushes apart the branches of a bush, just enough for them to see through it, together. Spying. 

It feels familiar.

And there's the culprit, Eddie Munson from band, sitting around a fire with some other boys, playing his guitar. Jeff Williams, Jackie's older brother, is one of them, she's pretty sure. 

They have a case of beer, and she's pretty certain that's the faint stench of weed hanging in the air.

"It's just Eddie Munson," Steve whispers, like she isn't aware of that. 

"Yeah, I have eyes, I can see that it's Eddie and his cronies."

Steve lets the branches go, and she is sure they're gonna turn around and leave, but they aren't that lucky. Honestly, they'd have no luck at all if they didn't have bad luck.

"Hey! Who the fuck is there?" Eddie yells, the guitar playing ceasing.

Steve rolls his eyes, pushing forward, out into the open, "It's just me, Munson, cool your jets."

"What the fuck are you doing out here, Harrington?" Eddie asks, then clearly catches a glimpse of Robin, "Oh. I see."

"Ew, no, you see nothing," Robin says, feeling the urge to clear up that misunderstanding right away. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize band geek Robin Buckley was too good for King Steve Harrington."

"Way too good," she snarks, and Eddie laughs, really laughs, and Steve doesn't, but she can tell he's amused and not mad.

"If you're not out here to fuck, then what brings you two into our neck of the woods?" Eddie asks, slouching over towards them.

"Your neck of the woods? I'm the one that popularized this spot, I'll have you know," Steve snaps, bitchy, arms crossed.

Robin smiles.

"Is that so?" Eddie asks, tilting his head, offering Steve a big, predatory smile.

"Definitely sure that's so," Steve answers, not backing down.

"That's not how I've heard it," one of the other guys shouts from near the fire they've lit, and Robin isn't sure who he is. 

"And you are? The forest authority?" Robin asks, challenging him.

"Yep. That's me," he snaps back, but doesn't offer up his name.

"That's just Gareth," Eddie says, "don't mind him."

Oh, no way. Gareth Jones? The goofy kid she had to deal with at her job at The Hawk last summer that drove her insane? His mother dropped him off nearly every afternoon, money in hand, and he always made a fucking mess with his popcorn and Reese's Pieces. He might be the number one reason she took the job at Scoops this summer, instead of going back to theater. Looking at him now, he's sure changed. Growth spurts are a bitch, she supposes. 

"Nice hair," she snarks at him, looking at his poodle-looking head. He's clearly trying to grow it out, probably to be more like Eddie, but it just isn't there yet, and his curls definitely aren't making things easy on him.

"What are you doing out here, anyway? Dirty freak orgy?" Steve asks, and Robin doesn't know how she got so lucky to have such a bitchy boy as a best friend, but she loves her good fortune. 

Eddie laughs, and she sees Steve smile at him.

"Why? You wanna join?" Eddie asks, leering, taking a lazy, sauntering step closer to Steve, assuming he'll back down. Eddie's hands are framing his belt buckle, drawing the eye, even her eye, and it's so gross but she's also very intrigued to see how this pans out. 

Eddie's not gonna scare Steve with the fear of the queer, and she was right, Steve doesn't back down, like she knew he wouldn't.

"Maybe I do," Steve says, rubbing his lips together, tongue wetting them in a gross taunting way, and Robin wants to spray him with a garden hose, but doesn't have that option, so instead she just watches as Eddie's eyes flick down to Steve's slick, glossy lips. 

Gross. Fuck her whole life. She takes back all the stuff about loving her good fortune. This is bad fortune. Like, empty fortune cookie levels of bad luck. Russians under the ice cream shop you work in, rotten luck. Honestly.

But Steve wins this round, because Eddie is the one that retreats, but he's laughing as he does it, waving his hand for them to follow. They're not gonna do that, right?

Wrong. Steve follows, so she trails behind.

"Gareth, you've met," Eddie says, "Jeff. Goodie. We didn't know we were encroaching on King Steve's territory, but we're just hanging out, camping, if that's alright with you two."

"I guess," Steve says, teasing, fucking flirting if she's not mistaken. Can't he ever turn it off? Ugh. "We're camping down there. With the kids I babysit. I heard your guitar, wanted to make sure you weren't straight out of Deliverance, or, like, ax murderers."

"Well, I am that, or haven't you heard?" Eddie asks, dimple showing up in the firelight. And Robin doesn't know how she's here right now. She should have stayed with Nancy and Jonathan and just let Steve be eaten by bears or monsters. Or Eddie Munson. Whatever.

"Heard what?" Steve asks.

"Hellfire Club!" Eddie shouts, waving his arms in an animated way, and Robin doesn't know what that is, and clearly Steve doesn't either.

"Sorry, man. Is that your band?" Steve asks, looking as confused as she feels.

"No, that's Corroded Coffin!" Gareth snaps, popping off, all pissy from the log he's sitting on.

"Sorry, my bad," Steve says.

"We play at The Hideout on Tuesdays," Gareth says, eyes narrowed.

"You play in a bar. You?" Robin asks, not believing a word of this. Not possible.

Gareth starts to answer, but Eddie holds up his hand and cuts him off.

"I'm channeling Satan. And I'm offended you don't know that, Harrington," Eddie says, and Steve's face is pure confusion, and Eddie laughs, taking pity on him, "It's the D&D club I run," Eddie adds, and Robin sees the light bulb pop on over Steve's head, like he's in a goddamn cartoon.

"Oh! The kids play that," Steve says.

"Do they now?" Eddie asks, not believing him, clearly.

"Unfortunately."

"And how old are these kids?" Eddie asks.

"Freshman, in the fall-" Steve says.

"Fresh blood," one of the guys says, cackling under his breath, as Steve keeps talking.

"-but I think Will is moving," Steve finishes.

"Will Byers, the zombie boy?" Eddie asks.

"Ssshh!" Steve hisses, "Don't call him that, okay?"

Eddie holds up his hands, backing off.

"Okay, okay, Harrington, don't get so worked up. I was just kidding," Eddie says, and the other boys all laugh.

"Well, it's not funny," Steve says, softly, "just. Don't. Okay?"

"Okay," Eddie concedes. 

"Thank you, he's been through a lot," Steve says, looking back over his shoulder, like the kids might all be snooping right behind them. Which, fair enough. They would totally do that, given half a chance.

"Well, since you're here, you want a beer or…?"

And Steve's nodding, like an idiot. 

Robin snags his arm, "Nancy will kill you." 

And Eddie takes a step back, hands going up, "Well, we wouldn't want the girlfriend mad." 

"She's not my girlfriend," Steve says, looking at Robin, "and Nancy can handle the kids for a bit, yeah? She's got Jonathan."

Robin is sure this is a bad idea. Nancy will be pissed about being left, and probably be pissed at Steve for having a beer or a toke, or whatever he has planned, while he's supposed to be in charge of the kids. 

"You're camping with your ex-girlfriend, her new boyfriend and...Robin from band? Oh, how the mighty have fallen." 

Steve doesn't take the bait, just pushes forward and sits down on the fallen log, right next to Gareth, who squawks in protest. 

Eddie follows, and hands Steve a beer, and then offers one to Robin. She shakes her head no, one of them needs to keep their sanity, she thinks, and then she watches as Eddie lights up a joint. Great. 

They pass it around, and she's not sure what they're doing here. These guys don't like them, and they definitely don't like these guys. 

Every time Eddie came into Scoops, as soon as he was gone, Steve would say something about Eddie "The Freak" Munson. And now he's just hanging out with him, like that's a normal thing to do? 

It's not a normal thing to do. Not at all.

"So, you're babysitting tonight?" Eddie asks.

"Unfortunately," Steve answers.

"Shame, I'd like to get The King all fucked up," Eddie says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands cupping his face.

"Don't call me that. High school is over. Steve is fine," Steve says, and the other boys all laugh, and Eddie throws up another hand and they all stop.

Toadies. The toadiest of the toadies.

"Steve," Eddie says, and it's positively lewd. 

"Thank you," Steve says, taking a long drag, holding it in his lungs, showing off, slowly killing himself in the process, she's sure of it. Idiot.

Robin shakes her head.

Then she feels something brushing her shin, and jumps, expecting a snake, or something worse, but it's just the boy she doesn't know, toeing at her with his shoe, offering her a can of Coke, cold and dripping with ice water from the cooler at his side.

She takes it, "Thanks. I'm Robin."

"Goodie," he says, like he isn't at all interested.

"Goodie?" she asks, and makes eye contact with Jeff Williams.

"It's a nickname," Jeff explains, like she might have thought otherwise? 

But she just nods.

"I'm in your class," Goodie says dryly, and are they? She swore they were a year younger.

"Sorry, we must not have classes together very often, if ever," she says.

"Of course we don't, you were always in all those smart classes," Goodie snaps, and she laughs. Mrs. Click's history class with Steve Harrington was not the smart class, even if she was a year ahead of where she was supposed to be. 

"Eddie, though…"

"Hey!" Eddie snaps, having heard it, somehow, despite talking to Steve at the same time. 

Robin knows Eddie is headed into his third senior year, this time with her class. The rumor mill had been running wild at the end of last year, and it seems to be true, she guesses.

"Well, third time's the charm?" she asks, because what the fuck do you say to that? Sorry you flunked high school, again.

"Here's to hoping," Eddie answers, then turns his attention back to Steve.

Nancy really is gonna kill them if they don't head back, and soon. 

"Steve, Nancy…"

"I know," Steve answers, "let me finish this beer and we're gone."

She nods, because unless she wants to stomp back through the woods all by herself, she doesn't have much choice in the matter. 

Gareth hands her a stick with a marshmallow stuck in the end, and she takes it. She could have a s'more if she has to wait. It's the least they could do, she supposes, and she pokes it into the fire, starting to toast it up.

"Have you ever had one with a Reese's cup?" Gareth asks, holding up the package, an offer.

She hasn't, but now she wants to, for sure, and takes it from his hand, nodding in thanks. 

"You used to work at the theater, right?" he asks.

"Unfortunately," she says.

"I went there a lot," he says.

"Oh, I'm well aware," Robin says, snarky.

And Goodie and Jeff both laugh, and it really wasn't that funny, she doesn't think.

"Haha, she knew you had a crush on her!" Goodie says, poking at Gareth with his roasting stick, as Gareth tries to bat it away.

"How embarrassing for you," Jeff adds, smirking, catching Robin's eye.

He did what now?

"I did not!" Gareth screeches in a way that says he probably, definitely did. 

"I'm sure he didn't," she says, though, cutting him some slack, "If he did, he surely wouldn't have made such a gross mess for me to clean up everyday he was in there, right?"

"See? I was gross," Gareth clings to the accusation, like that's an improvement. Whatever helps him sleep at night.

"Okay, Pig-Pen," Jeff says, and Gareth is flushed. Probably from the embarrassment, but if he's not stupid, he'll play it off as the heat rolling off the sure to be illegal campfire.

Goodie laughs at the taunting, and she is so distracted that she almost burns her marshmallow, but she pulls it out and blows the flame out, just leaving a nice char. Sweet. Just how she likes them.

She puts the peanut butter cup on the graham cracker, and places the warm marshmallow on top, covers it with the other cookie, and is just squeezing it all together into a gooey mess when Steve leans over her shoulder and plucks it right out of her hand, taking a bite.

"Bad dingus, no!" she snaps, but just starts the process to toast another marshmallow. It'll be much easier to do that than fight for her original one from Steve's mouth. And she knows where that mouth has been, so no thank you.

"Thanks, Rob," Steve says, and she grumbles in response, but Gareth, Jeff and Goodie all laugh. Eddie is too busy plucking away at his guitar again, and he really doesn't sound half-bad.

She makes her second s'more, they say their thank yous and goodbyes, and start walking back towards their own campsite.

"So, what was that?" she asks, looking over at Steve, but it's really too dark now to see any of his features.

"What was what?" he asks, and it sounds like he honestly doesn't know.

"Whatever that was with Eddie?"

"What was? He's Eddie "The Freak" Munson, it was nothing," he says, and it doesn't sound like he's lying. Is he unaware he was flirting? Is that even possible?

She weighs her options. She's really gonna need more data. Maybe they'll cross paths again with Eddie Munson, and she'll be able to suss it out better.

"Nothing, I guess," she answers, and he just nods like he's not the least bit curious about what she meant.

Nancy and Jonathan are waiting at the edge of the campsite, and Nancy has a flashlight in hand. When she sees them approaching, she shines it right into their eyes.

"Jeez, Nance, put that thing down," Steve says, shielding his eyes from the onslaught of light, as Robin does the same over her own eyes.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Nancy asks, hands on her hips and she looks just like Steve, like that. It makes Robin smile.

"Bears. Checking for bears," Steve says.

"Well, either those bears threw shit at you in self-defense, or you have chocolate smeared all over your faces," Nancy declares, oh so dryly.

They both reach up to wipe at their faces, licking their lips.

"That's what I thought," Nancy accuses.

"Steve heard a guitar, it was Eddie Munson and his friends. They had s'mores," Robin caves, admitting to everything. Well, almost everything. 

"You ate s'mores? From Eddie Munson?" Jonathan asks, then mumbles under his breath, "Wonder what those were laced with?"

Robin stills, she doesn't want to be drugged again, no way, but then laughs. She'd opened the candy herself, and unless Eddie had the forethought to lace the marshmallows or graham crackers, it seems unlikely.

And she's pretty sure Eddie's reputation is more bark than bite, anyway.

The kids must hear them talking, because they cause a commotion coming over, Dustin getting right into Steve's face.

"Back off, Henderson," Steve says, holding him by both shoulders, pushing him away.

"I smell beer! Steve's been drinking beer while in charge of us!" Dustin screams, and the other kids just look at him like he's lost his mind.

"So?" Lucas asks.

"Can I have one?" Mike tries, and Nancy and Steve both snap no at the same time, and he turns sullen.

"I had one beer, to be nice. To be friendly. Just to make sure we won't be, you know, messed with, or any of that dumb shit," Steve argues, hands waving.

"Sure, sounds likely," Dustin says, like the sarcastic little shit that he is. 

"Well, that's what happened," Steve says, not rising to Dustin's bait, at least not yet.

"And just who did you have this beer with?" Dustin demands to know, hands on his hips. Have they all picked up this gesture from Steve? It's looking likely, at this point, and Robin worries for herself that she might be doing it without realizing. The horror.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says.

"Eddie Munson!" Dustin screeches, "He runs the Hellfire Club at the high school!"

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard," Steve says, resting his hand on the top of Dustin's head, ruffling his hair through his hat, "I put in a good word for you guys."

"No way, did you really?" Dustin asks, looking up at Steve, awed.

"I did, I told him to look for you in the fall. Now leave me be, you little dickhead, and don't make me take it back," Steve answers, and Dustin rushes back towards the other boys, suddenly excited about the prospect of maybe having an in to get into Hellfire Club.

Whatever floats his boat, she supposes.

Robin looks at the tents, and the small, very contained fire Nancy and Jonathan built while they were gone. 

Looking at it now, camping might actually be fun. 

At least for one night, anyway.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🏕️

[untitledfanfictionsideblog]

Welded Together and Bolted Shut: Part four (Commencing Countdown, Engines On)

Joel Miller x FTM!original character

masterlist

Warnings: mild cursing and language, ellie being a lovable nerd (Words: 1.3k)

(author’s note: I am NOT a mechanic, so any descriptions will be extremely vague, since I just haven’t bothered to do much research. I’m playing through TLOU1 right now, and so this is written with the game versions of the characters in mind, but it really doesn’t matter which version of the story you read it as. please do not repurpose, steal, or otherwise misuse my work in any way, including anything involving Al. This is a passion project, I am not getting paid to write this, and I am also a busy human being with a life outside of this.)

The sound of the wrench he gripped straining against a stubborn bolt felt like home in the empty workshop. It brought Beau back to his twenties, grease-stained, sweaty, with his hair haphazardly tied back with a bandanna to keep it from getting caught in the machinery.

The old engine had been dragged back from a recent patrol, who’d been out to scavenge whatever they could from a long-abandoned parking lot.

It landed in his clutches, and he was asked to figure out a practical use for it to aid Jackson. He figured that the basic mechanism could boost the town hall’s generator, keeping the outages to a minimum.

He stepped back from where he had been crouching for far too long, stretching his arms above his head, despite the nagging protests from his shoulders and lower back.

He reached for his mug, taking a sip of the now-cold coffee, swishing it around inside his mouth before downing it with a grimace. How anyone could enjoy the drink was completely and utterly lost on him.

He hummed to himself, a quiet melody from his musical days, as he worked, wiping oil on his jeans, completely absorbed in his work.

“Need a refill?” A voice sounded behind him, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

Heart pounding, he huffed, turning to see Maria behind him.

“…fuck. Don’t do that.” He grumbled towards the commune’s leader, “And I’m good, thanks.”

“You’ve been in here for a few hours straight. Some of the kids have started taking bets on whether you’re dead.”

“Not dead.” He said, “Just almost done. Check it out.”

She stepped forward, taking in his work. The engine itself had been repurposed, cased oh-so-gracefully in an old produce crate.

“Rough around the edges, as is everything else here.” She chuckled, nodding, “Good work.”

“Yes ma’am, thank you ma’am.” Beau grinned, “It’ll be installed by tomorrow, so hopefully the spring thunderstorms can’t knock anything out this year.”

Maria hummed in acknowledgment, before the sound of footsteps echoed from behind them. Beau swivelled in their direction, seeing the girl who had affectionately been dubbed Joel’s shadow since both of their arrival in Jackson.

“Morning, Ellie, what can I—“

“Can you teach me how to fix a car?” She blurted out, eyes wide with excitement.

Maria raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I, uh—“ He blinked, “I guess— can I ask why?”

Ellie stepped forward, fidgeting with her hands. “Joel and I drove one one a while back. It was fucking awesome.”

“He let you drive one?” Questioned the older woman.

“Y’know, I’d be concerned, but I would trust you behind the wheel more than most adults here.” Beau winked at her, leaning against his workbench, “Look, there’s a few broken down ones on the other side of town. If you give me a few minutes to wrap up I can meet you there.”

The girl lit up, mouth curling into a wide grin. “Yeah! Absolutely! I’ll see you then!”

With that, she ran off, ponytail bouncing behind her, avoiding any further questions, leaving the two adults a bit stunned in her wake.

“I guess you have plans for the day.” Maria commented, “I’ll let you get to it.”

“…I guess so.” Beau took it upon himself to start packing up his tools, wiping his hands on an old ripped-up t-shirt he kept as a rag before picking up his jacket from where it lay rumpled on a chair.

He gave a quiet nod of farewell to the woman, which was promptly returned, and made his way into the town square.

The plaza was packed, Jackson’s inhabitants seemed to have been taking every chance they could to enjoy the warmer March sunshine, a titanic contrast to the frigidity of only a few weeks prior.

Beau wove between vendors, slipping past an arguing couple that he wanted nothing to do with, eventually coming across the grouping of three long-dead automobiles, rusted and peeling in places, shattered and flat in others.

Between two cars was Ellie, bouncing on the heels of her feet and swinging her arms idly. She looked up at Beau, and rushed to where he set down his tools.

“Most of this is gonna be theoretical,” He warned, popping open the hood of an old Volkswagen, “These suckers wouldn’t start if we paid them to.”

“You think we could fix one so it would start? Y’know, hypothetically.” She added the last part offhandedly, bringing Beau to wonder exactly how hypothetical this whole endeavor was.

“Well, I’d need tools I don’t have, electricity we can’t spare, and parts that I doubt they make anymore.” He muttered, leaning on the open front cavity of the vehicle, “I think you’re asking me twenty years too late, kiddo.”

“Eh, no big deal.” She shrugged, “Now— teaching time. Tell me everything.”

The next twenty minutes or so passed smoothly, Beau pointing out which part was which and what it connected to, along with how it made the car go. Ellie soaked it all up, more like a sponge than a teenage girl at that moment.

“So, I gotta ask.” Beau mentioned, as Ellie examined the brake lines of the Beetle, “What started the car obsession?”

“Joel n’ I, we…” Ellie replied, muffled underneath the dashboard, “We sorta got a car from this guy, Bill. I’d never been in one, and I saw him and Joel just— pop a part out, put a new one in, like it was nothing, and not a giant metal death trap. And I’d never been in one before then, it was the closest thing to a spaceship I’ve ever seen.”

“You a big space fan?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Not a bad interest to have.” Beau grinned, “Hey, you see the big rod in the middle, if you sit up?”

Ellie shifted inside the car to take a peek at the lever in front of her.

“Uh huh?”

“That’s called a stick shift. Worst fuckin’ thing in the world for some drivers. You move it, and you’re manually changing the car’s gears.”

“Neat.” She reached for it, giving it a shove. It clicked into another position, and she turned back to Beau.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Hm? Shoot.”

She shuffled around, eventually untangling the pretzel position she’d gotten herself into in the cramped confines under the dashboard, and standing with her hands on her hips.

“What happened on that patrol?”

Beau would be lying if he said he hadn’t found her tone a bit accusatory, but he shrugged it off.

“We got caught in the rain, he shot a clicker trying to bite me, and we had a long conversation about some depressing shit.” Beau chuckled, “Happy?”

“Confused.” She corrected, “Joel hates most people. Well— kinda.”

She stepped forward, looking up into his eyes. “He doesn’t put up with people’s shit. But from what I’ve seen, he puts up with yours.”

“Maybe the commune life is wearing off on him.” Beau crouched down to reach her eye level. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Was all of this a plot to find some dirt on me?”

The two’s eyes stayed locked together for a moment, before both of them burst into snickers, and then full-on laughter.

After another hour of what the teen dubbed ‘basics in cars and engine shit’, Beau was walking her back to the house she and Joel had been assigned. The sun was just dipping below the skyline, painting the sky with gentle splashes of red and yellow.

Despite the long day, the kid was bouncing on her feet, rallying question after question off of him.

“Okay, okay!” Beau exclaimed, after a barrage of words went sailing right over his head, “Ask Joel some of these. He’s a… construction guy. He’ll probably know a few.”

“You got it, boss!” She nodded, offering finger guns that could only have been that royally fucked up by someone who has never been taught the proper usage finger guns in her life, as she hopped up the creaky wooden steps and disappeared behind the front door, leaving Beau outside and staring at the house in front of him.

[winchester-girl67]

Wild Hearts (Part 4) - Postcards From Dean

Summary: Postcards from Dean to Y/N; sent over the years they were apart. 

Masterlist

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader 

Square: Postcards @j3bingo

Word Count: 743 

Warnings: underage, age gap (reader is 16-22, Dean is 20-26), language, slow burn, long distance relationship of sorts, pining, maybe a little angst, time jumps, fluff 

A/N: This part was written for @j3bingo go as a collection of AU postcards from Dean to Y/N.

_____ 

A few of your favourite postcards from Dean - from the six years you were apart. 

___________________________________

Hey Y/N, 

What do you write on a postcard? 

Dean

P.S. I picked up a stack of these at a rest stop on the way to Sioux Falls and I thought you'd like some old school snail-mail. I'm aware that your parents and the mailman will probably read this too, so... I'm sorry I got your daughter into trouble and now she has- what, ten hours of community service left? But, she's kind of a badass and saved my life so don't go too hard on her. 

P.P.S. And to the mailman: Not cool, dude. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

Sam told me to start these with 'Dear' instead of 'Hey', I kind of like the way it sounds so I let him be right for once. Bobby and Jody are pretty cool, they won't even let me pay rent so we can save more money. We'll have a place of our own in no time now. 

xo Dean 

P.S. I hope the 'x' is okay, if not I blame Sam. If so, it was all my idea. You can't tell but I just winked at you. 

P.P.S. It's my birthday and Jody made me a cherry pie! It was so good, I had every intention of saving you a piece but now I'll just have to learn how to make one for you instead. Can't wait for your phone call tonight so I can tell you all about it. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

It took a little longer than I thought but we just moved into our own apartment! It's closer to Sam's college but we can still visit Bobby and Jody with a short car ride. 

xo Dean 

P.S. Think you'll come visit me on your gap year? 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

It snowed today! And I'm making pasta tonight. You can drool over it via video chat later. I wish we were in the same time zone so you could ring in the new year with me too. 

I’m missing you a lot lately,  xo Dean 

P.S. I'm sending you a big fat kiss. You can put it where you want it. X 

P.P.S. To the mailman: Get your mind out of the gutter. She's a lady! 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I'm seriously craving Donna's mocha ice cream right now. I think it would go great with Jody’s cherry pie recipe. Don't knock it till you try it! 

xo Dean

P.S. Sam hasn't stopped playing that playlist you made him for studying. I swear you have the worst taste in music. I'm going to make you a playlist tonight. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I think I like the mountains on this postcard best, we should take a roadtrip there together, maybe next Valentine’s day? 

x Dean 

P.S. I don't like airplanes. 

P.P.S. But I'm going to take you to all the places on these postcards some day. 

P.P.P.S. I hope you're still pinning these postcards to your wall so you can hold them over my head some day. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I'm sorry. 

xx Dean 

P.S. If I could have one superpower it would be the ability to control the weather. 

P.P.S. Getting snowed in would be a lot more fun WITH you. 

P.P.P.S. Maybe my superpower should’ve been teleportation! Damn it, is it too late to change my answer? 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

I just dropped Sam off for his first year of law school. I feel old. Luckily, he got another scholarship though, so I don't have to worry about paying his tuition. Kid's a major nerd. 

x Dean 

P.S. I'm actually in California! The salt air here makes me think of home, of you. You feel so far away right now. I'm not even looking at the same ocean. That sucks. 

P.P.S. We haven't talked in a while and I know that's mostly my fault, but I wanted to give you a heads up. I'm coming home... Soon. 

___________________________________

Dear Y/N, 

Did you notice there's no stamp? 

Always yours, 

xoxo Dean 

P.S. I was going to tell you to meet me where I first kissed you but that's a hell of a walk. So meet me under our streetlamp. The one where you put ice cream on my nose the first night we met. 

P.P.S. I hope you come, I can't wait to see you. But I understand and no hard feelings if you don't. 

_________________________

Part 5

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28 @backseat-of-deans-67chevy

SPN: @hobby27

Wild Hearts: @justrealizedimmascifygurl @evieluvsjamie @kimberkingrivers @vicmc624 @ladysparkles78

[teamtakagi]

Language of Flowers Ask #3

Wisteria: Write a scene where Rook dances with their partner.

Original prompt located here

Thank you for the ask, @elfmaid!

I absolutely went overboard with this one, so it got pretty long.

(Is this accurate to Nevarra culture? Probably not. But I fell into a deep rabbit hole of researching Regency dances and etiquette, so here we are. Just let me have a cute fluffy Pride and Prejudice-inspired scene. 

Also: Jerran now has a Swear Jar where it's a bit more limited. It's slipping out in real life and the mini-mes are delightful little parrots right now)

HUGE Thanks to @a-mumbling-nerd for entrusting me with Eleanor and previewing it to make sure that I did her and her family justice, as well as providing some dialogue. I am so honored to be allowed to work with such a wonderful character).

______

The crowded Nevarran ballroom’s air of stilted politeness, centuries of tradition, and social sparring weighed upon Jerran as heavily as Davrin’s ceremonial armor. Gold and other precious jewels dripped from the high chandeliers to the wall reliefs depicting the Cycle of Life and Death, to even the human attendees themselves. A few elves dressed in dark clothing stood around the edges of the room, only springing forward to assist when needed. 

Glancing around, Jerran subtly tried to slip a finger under his richly embroidered jacket’s collar as it dug into his neck.  He accidentally caught the eye of an older woman, who seemed offended at his very existence. She gasped when he winked at her before she turned to whisper with a companion.

A skeleton waiter offered a tray of glasses filled with a mysterious amber-filled liquid. He automatically took one and thinned his lips at the cloying stickiness coating his tongue. Maker’s Breath, I’d rather drink from the Joining Cup again.  At least that knocked him unconscious.

A small hand squeezed the crook of his elbow, and he turned to see Eleanor beaming up at him. “Isn’t this so exciting? I’ve always dreamed of attending these. I’ve never been to one, at least, one where I danced with someone. But I've read about them,” she giggled, waving her own crystal goblet.  

Jerran smiled back. Eleanor, of course, looked beautiful in a white gown with flouncy gold-trimmed sleeves and a black jacket where matching gold threads shimmered in the candles lining the room. He squeezed her hand, trying to hide the sour feeling at the pit of his stomach.

From where they stood next to disapproving matrons and nervous young people waiting for their turn, he observed couples gracefully bobbing and weaving in a lively dance. As the music ended and the next dance was called, they bowed and scattered, exchanging places with those next in line. 

A couple of young ladies paused to speak to Eleanor, who slightly jumped at their attention. “Cousin Eleanor! Oh, it’s such a delight to see you again,” one with hair coiled with golden beads gushed, sounding as overly sweet as the punch. “Such a shame Uncle Khoen and Aunt Yesult couldn’t make it this time.”

“But what an honor for their daughter to attend. You must come again with your… beau.” Her pale-haired friend glanced up at Jerran, amusement in her blue eyes. “He seems… interesting.”

Eleanor made introductions; Jerran instantly forgot their names. He mumbled, “Nice to meet you.” 

The young women acknowledged him with a slight head tilts, but they made no reply as they giggled about the fashions this year. Jerran tuned them out.

How the hell did I get here? He absently took another sip of the punch, not bothering to hide the grimace. 

Oh yeah. Three days ago, a panicking Eleanor had burst into his room waving a missive in his face. A relative, a great uncle five times removed or something – Jerran’s eyes glazed over while trying to remember all of Eleanor’s extended relations – was holding a very important yearly ball that Eleanor’s parents were absolutely required to attend, due to family obligations and honor. 

Or something.

The only problem? Apparently, Eleanor’s parents were neck deep in some sort of Spirit Research (again, Jerran’s eyes glazed over when she tried to explain) and just couldn’t possibly attend. 

Perhaps Eleanor and that Grey Warden beau of hers could go in their stead? Dance a few dances, smile at the relatives. It would be easy. Never mind that the gods were trying to enslave everyone with the Blight.

And for Maker and Andraste's sake, be sure to greet the Duchess Isla Ingellvar properly. As one of their patrons, it was of the absolute utmost importance. 

It seemed dumb. But what was important to Eleanor was important to Jerran. If that meant dressing in awful clothes and sip sickly-sweet punch for one evening, so be it. 

Only Emmrich had gasped when Jerran told him the news. “My dear lad, you would be eaten alive at such an affair. One must know the proper etiquette to avoid offence. And the dances! They are equal parts diplomacy as well as entertainment. Which… please don't take this the wrong way, is not your strongest suit.”

Before Jerran could protest, the Necromancer clapped his hands together as he turned to Manfred. “We must begin at once for you to learn ‘Death Becomes Us’ and at least the waltz. Ironically, ‘Death Becomes Us’ is a lively dance, meant to evoke the fleeting….” He continued muttering under his breath as he pulled out several dancing instruction books.

They'd recruited Bellara as a substitute partner; she’d happily agreed after being sworn to secrecy in exchange for allowing her to use the experience in her budding romance serial. Between investigating suspicious Venatori sightings and haunted candlehops, Emmrich instructed them in his room.

“Dancing is remarkably like combat. There’s a rhythm and pattern to it that once you recognize, you’ll be able to apply to anything. This will help you in battle as well,” Emmrich said as Jerran spun Bellara the wrong way. “Do it. Again.”

Thankfully, Eleanor hadn’t noticed Jerran’s absence. She’d been too busy practicing the proper bowing and worrying over the right words to say to the Duchess. She was representing her branch of the family after all.

Two nights later, Jerran was semi-confident that he might be able to conquer the livelier dances; they were remarkably similar to the folk dances he'd been forced to learn as a child. If drunken nobles could do it, Jerran could do it – Emmrich assured him, pulling out a chart listing Ingellvar relations and how to address them properly.

The social stuff? He was doomed. “Sorry, Doc,” Jerran muttered. 

“Hmm? What was that?” Eleanor’s slightly anxious voice brought him back to the present.

“Nothing.” He glanced down at her as she stood slightly on her tiptoes to peer over the other Ingellvars’ shoulders. “Relax, you’re going to give yourself a headache at this rate.” 

“I know.” She bit her lip as she curtseyed slightly to a passing older bearded gentleman and greeted him. “Mother and Father put a lot of emphasis on greeting the Duchess tonight. I just want to do it right.” 

“I’ll let you know if anyone seems Duchess-y.” He noticed that her cup was empty and took it from her as a stately older woman with sharp eyes and wearing enough jewelry to fill a Minrathous shop window stopped in front of them.

“How unusual to see Khoen and Yesult’s …. daughter here. I suppose they couldn’t make it?” she asked brightly, smiling.

Eleanor’s hesitation told him that she hadn’t recognized the stranger either. Jerran cleared his throat. “Yes, they had some sort of business in the Necropolis.”

The woman’s smile froze for an instant, and a slight look of disdain flashed in her eyes before her face smoothed over. “How … delightful. I suppose this is your suitor, the Grey Warden. Yesult was telling me all about him.” 

“Jerran Thorne. And you are….?” 

She winced as though he’d stomped all over her fine robes in muddy boots. “My dear, we have not been properly introduced. I would have expected even a foundling daughter of Khoen and Yesult to know her manners better.”

He bit back a choice retort; Eleanor had made him absolutely promise not to swear at this function. It was getting harder to keep his word. “Then I guess you’re not worth —”

Eleanor grabbed his arm, looking absolutely horrified. “Duchess Isa Ingellvar, may I present Junior Grey Warden Jerran Thorne? My suitor and the leader known as Rook,” she blurted out.

So, this was that Duchess. Jerran raised an eyebrow. “Charmed,” he said dryly.

“Mmm.” The duchess’s lips twisted. Then she dismissed him and took Eleanor’s hands. “Eleanor, please extend my courtesies to your parents. Tell them that they were sorely missed and we may need to discuss budget cuts the next time we meet.” The woman immediately turned away and began loudly talking to a matron sitting along the wall. 

Jerran glanced down at Eleanor, who looked like she was visibly wilting. “Ellie?”

“That was her. The one that Mother and Father wanted me to greet. I failed to recognize her and now….” She hesitated, blinking rapidly. “Jerran, just let me speak with people, all right? Please.”

Shit. “Ellie, I —-” 

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” She forced a smile, but he could still see a hint of tears in her eyes.

 Distantly, he heard a female calling out the next dance: Death Becomes Us. He knew that one. 

“Do you want to try to dance?” he asked, desperately trying to salvage anything left of the situation.

“I… I don’t think I feel like dancing now. I’m sorry.” She took a deep shuddering breath. “I think I might need more punch with some chocolate and strawberries.”

“Sure.” He gladly fetched a plate, noting that word must have gotten around. Although not overtly unfriendly, there was just the imperceptible hint of chill from the people surrounding him. Just the slightest avoidance of the shoulder from one lady so there was no chance of his arm brushing up against her as he passed. A bold stare and smirk from the man across the way. A girl seeing him, stopping, and moving in another direction.

His ears – honed from hundreds of hours on patrol hunting Darkspawn – caught snippets of whispers:

What do you expect from a Grey Warden? 

How disappointing. I thought he’d be more impressive. Khoen and Yesult spoke of him so highly. 

That jacket… Arnfried had one like it earlier. Did he steal it? It wouldn’t surprise me.

When Eleanor excused herself to “powder her nose” (Does that mean those rooms had vats of powder in them?), he waited alone, holding an empty cup as his mind raced through the evening so far. The only thing that could be worse is someone attacking us. 

He stared at the ornate gold-rimmed glass in his hand; a set of these could feed an entire family for months. He'd known that Eleanor’s family was well-off, some sort of nobility. But seeing it with his own eyes was different. 

I’m a Grey Warden. We improvise. Go with our gut. But this…. this was a whole different world with its own rules and invisible chains.

And now, thanks to him and his big mouth, Eleanor’s parents wouldn’t get the needed funding for their research.

The stupid coat suddenly felt too tight and hot. His lungs struggled to get enough air. 

He had to get out. Now.

Slamming the stemware on a passing skeleton’s tray, Jerran escaped to a nearby balcony and leaned on the railing. 

The infernal collar choked him; he unbuttoned it, wishing he could rip the jacket off entirely. It wasn’t even his, not really. He’d scammed it off of a drunk Nevarran noble in Minrathous during a game of Wicked Grace the night before. 

Now, the richly embroidered clothing trapped Jerran as surely as one of the gold-encrusted sarcophagi standing in the nearest corner. The glinting threads mocked him in the dim light. 

For an instant, he was nine years old, cowering in a Vyrantium alley as slumming nobles in embroidered robes surrounded him. They’d tossed him a gold coin covered in dung and laughed at the little liberati as he scrabbled for it.

Eleanor deserved better. 

He wasn’t sure how long time passed before Eleanor’s slightly worried voice came from behind. “Jerran? I went looking for you, but you disappeared. Are you all right?”

Jerran forced a smile. “I'm fine.” He nodded toward the ornate garden below where skeletal workers labored below. “Nothing like watching skeletons weeding and carting dirt.”

She ignored his attempt to deflect and joined him at the railing, her shoulder touching his. “No. You're not.” A strand of pale golden hair drifted across her face. She brushed it away, looking at him. 

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I screwed everything up and ruined your night. Now your parents’ research is in danger because of me and everyone’s upset. You didn’t even get to dance.”

Sighing, he scratched the back of his head, looking away. “I tried practicing some of the dances with Emmrich and Bellara to try to impress you. But this society thing, I just don’t get it. I guess I’m just a dumb liberati after all.”

The lightest touch rested on his arm, and he glanced up to see her beautiful forget-me-not eyes glistening. “What matters is that you’re here with me. You took the time to learn all this for me. That is far more special. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”

“But your parents’ research –”

“I’ll speak with them. They’re used to dealing with people like her.” She smiled. “The dances – will you show me? I’d love to see.”

Faintly in the background, he could hear the band starting the last song of the night, a waltz. Straightening, he bowed with an exaggerated flourish and extended a hand. “M’lady,” he intoned, mimicking Emmrich’s posh accent. “Would you care to have this dance?”

Giggling, she curtseyed. “Why, yes, my dear Warden. I shall.” 

Dancing is remarkably like combat.  Pulling her close, he instinctively fell into the pattern that Emmrich had practically beaten into him, guiding her around the balcony. She fit perfectly against him and the tenseness in his body seemed to evaporate. 

It wasn’t perfect – he barely managed to avoid her toes with a  little hop several times, and he was often out of sync with the music. 

But her eyes sparkled as he whirled her around, her dress swirling around them. For those few minutes, he forgot about the gods and the lurking crowd in the room behind them. 

All he saw was her smile.

As the music came to an end, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him softly, tasting like the strawberries that she'd eaten earlier that evening.  “That was absolutely wonderful,” she said once they came up for air. 

“Next time, I'll take you out to a tavern and we’ll do some folk dances,” he whispered in her ear.