#then everything went downhill and I actually had to go back and look at an old YT account because at some point

[redwinterroses]

who was the first life series pov you watched?

Grian's -- and I had no idea what I was getting into. XD I just clicked into it like, "Ah. New episode -- some one-off thing that'll probably be fun for a bit." Didn't know it was gonna rewrite my braincells, lolololol

[thriftedtchotchkes]

come clean

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel comes home after a messy day on patrol, but you're already in the shower

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, language, getting together, slow buildup, jackson era, smut, handjob, f!masturbation, fingering, unprotected piv, rough sex, shower sex, size kink

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this one goes out to emotional support daydreams! as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated. hope y'all enjoy 💕

Joel’s having a rough day. It’s late, and he’s bone-tired and covered in…well, he’s not really sure what he’s covered in. Mud and bits of dead grass, definitely, but there's splotches of red on his jeans, too. He couldn’t tell you whether it’s his blood or something else’s—the adrenaline still hasn’t completely worn off, so it’s entirely possible he’s not feeling the full extent of his injuries yet.

His day hadn’t started that badly, but it wasn’t a typical morning, either. Maria had stopped him and Tommy at the gate to ask if they'd mind checking out a situation at the dam instead of patrolling their usual route.

Apparently, some of the machinery was acting up and the only person she trusted to oversee the repairs was Tommy. She honestly hadn't given much thought to Joel's part in all of it—their relationship is still pretty tense, even after his return to Jackson, so he was just along for the ride.

Things went downhill fast after they arrived at their destination. No one's really sure how the infected got into the facility, but it was a lucky thing Joel was there after all. With the help of a few guards, they were able to dispatch everything in and around the building without any bites or serious injuries but, boy, did they make a serious mess. Of the facility and the machinery they were supposed to help fix, and of Joel.

So now here he is, exhausted and dirty, getting shit from his kid when all he wants to do is get clean and take a fucking nap.

“Ew, gross,” Ellie groans, clearly not giving two shits about how badly Joel’s day is going or how little she’s helping right now. She had the day off and is somehow still watching movies in the same spot he left her in this morning. “Stop touching things! You’re getting shit everywhere.”

He ignores her and shrugs off his coat, walking into the living room to toss it over the back of his recliner, but she throws him a dirty look that stops him in his tracks.

"Whatever, m'gettin’ in the shower," he grunts, dropping it on the doormat instead. He'll probably have to burn that coat anyway if the stains and…odor are anything to go by.

"Uhhhh, no, actually you're not," she says matter-of-factly, and he raises his eyebrows, eyeing her expectantly when she doesn't elaborate.

"Why the fuck not?"

"Did your hearing get worse or something? Shower's already on,” she nods toward the stairs. He’s not sure how he didn’t notice the sound of running water filtering down from the second floor earlier, but now he’s annoyed that he can’t shower and that she might actually be right about his hearing.

"Well then, I'm waitin' here," he sasses back, taking a seat on the recliner with zero regard to the upholstery.

"Dude!" She’s starting to look as exasperated as he feels. And her reaction isn’t unwarranted. If he touches literally anything in this living room, they’ll probably have to burn it, too.

"Fine, fine, m'not touchin' anythin'," he stands back up, holding his hands up in surrender. "How long's she been in there?"

"Like, five minutes. Probably gonna be a while, knowing her,” she replies with an amused grin. Oh, so she thinks this is funny.

"The fuck do ya expect me to do then, stand here ‘til she's out?" He asks as if it’s not exactly what he’s been doing the entire time they’ve been having this conversation.

"As long as you don't sit on any of the furniture, I don't really give a shit what you do," she shrugs.

He rolls his eyes at her, running a hand down his face in frustration. He’s just about to give up and hose himself down in the yard when she finally offers a solution.

"You could just knock and see if she'll swap out with you. She basically just got in, anyway."

“Y’know what, I think I will,” he grumbles, heading upstairs to the bathroom and leaving Ellie to her shitty 90s sci-fi thriller. She shakes her head, laughing as she slips on her headphones.

“Don’t be too loud up there!”

But with his bad ears, he doesn’t hear her.

God, you needed this shower so badly. It's been a rough day, to say the least, and it’s finally time to get the relaxation you deserve. You got saddled with an extra patrol shift because two of the usual guys had a last-minute change of assignment, and it turned a typical day into an unbelievably exhausting one.

But tonight you got lucky. There was no one around to use up all of the hot water besides Ellie, who’s been glued to the TV all day, and you miraculously got home before Joel. So tonight, you get to enjoy the expensive bottle of shampoo you found at some fancy store in some fancy mall last month, and let yourself forget for a while that there’s fucking fungus monsters out there eating people.

That is—until someone knocks on the door and ends your perfect evening before it begins. Now you’ve got soap in your eyes, and you’re slightly worried because Ellie either needs something from the bathroom or the house is on fire. There’s never an in-between with her.

“Ellie? Everything okay?” you call out, really hoping it’s not the latter.

The voice that responds is muffled and decidedly much deeper than Ellie’s, and you’re momentarily taken off guard before you realize it’s not a burglar. It’s Joel—of course, it’s Joel. He probably got off his shift late and wants to clean up, and now you feel bad for making him wait and using up all the hot water.

You can’t really hear what he’s saying over the shower, so you slide the curtain open to poke your head out. “What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

He tries to answer you again, or at least you think he does, but you still can’t make him out, so you tell him to come inside. The door only opens a crack, but it's so quick that there's no time to duck behind the curtain before Joel's face appears and you're both staring at each other blankly.

“…Hi,” you breathe out, praying it’s just your head and not the rest of your body peeking out. “So, um, what were you saying?”

He looks a little embarrassed and it’s adorable, but the thought only crosses your mind for a split second before you notice the rest of him. He’s—there’s really no nice way to say this, but he looks revolting.

There’s dirt everywhere. Matted in his hair, under his fingernails, all over his clothes. It looks like he’s been rolling around on the ground all day, and honestly, maybe he has. He’s also got…gross, is that a chunk of…? Nope. It looks like someone exploded in his face, and he needs a shower. Badly.

The only problem is you’re covered head-to-toe in soap, and you’re pretty sure you’ve only got about 15 minutes of hot water left.

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry to barge in on ya,” he mumbles, looking pointedly away from you. “I came up here to see if you wouldn’t mind pausin’ your shower for a bit, but I, uh…can see that’s gonna be a little difficult.”

You look down at yourself and, yeah, he’s right. You’re dripping water and soap all over the floor. Getting out now would be a pain in the ass, but he also really needs to get in.

“No, no. It’s totally fine! It makes way more sense for me to sit around soapy than for you to, um, stand around like that,” you reason. It’s his turn to look down at himself, and he grimaces. “Just turn around for a sec and we can swap.”

He nods, still looking sheepish, but grateful.

You duck back into the shower to shut the water off and gather up your toiletries to make room for his. You’ve already shoved half of your stuff to one side before you realize it was probably just a waste of time because there was already plenty of space—and that's when it dawns on you.

This stall is pretty big—as far as showers go, anyway. There's no reason you can't both fit in here at the same time. It's also not like he's never seen you naked before. You joined up with Joel and Ellie long before running water was in the picture, so you've had your fair share of awkward bathing encounters. Really, it's just a matter of whether or not he'll go for it.

You pop your head back out, taking a second to admire those strong, broad shoulders of his before getting his attention. Damn, he's a real catch. Hot and respectful. But seriously, he's so disgusting right now and it would be a shame to allow that to continue.

"Hey, Joel," you start, and he glances back carefully over his shoulder. You hesitate for a beat before continuing, “So, hear me out—what if we just…if we both showered…at the same time…”

He looks confused, and you realize how badly you botched that entire sentence. Okay, so talking around it didn't work. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before trying again.

"Just—just get in with me," you say softly. "We can shower together."

His brow furrows, eyes unreadable. He looks like he might be thinking it over, but his silence isn't exactly the most encouraging reaction in the world. Subconsciously, you hold your breath while you wait for an answer.

There’s no way he’s going to go for this, is there? It’s Joel. He can barely look at you in a tank top without blushing, let alone wet and naked. You’re not even sure why you bothered asking. It was clearly a dumb—

“Yeah, guess that makes sense,” he nods, turning back to you fully, and you swear he’s looking at you differently. That's…not what you were expecting. Not that you're complaining in the slightest. He's not even trying to hide his eagerness, and you're starting to think maybe he was waiting for you to ask all along.

"Well, come on in, cowboy."

Joel undresses slowly, eyeing what little of you he can see greedily, and it makes your cheeks burn. It’s like he can’t look away—from your eyes and lips, your collarbone. Even the tiny droplets of water that fall from your hair. It feels more intimate than any moment you’ve ever shared with Joel, and he hasn’t even touched you. Yet, hopefully.

You’re getting impatient. He's making a show of stripping down and it's taking everything you have not to get out of the shower and rip all of his clothes off yourself. His fingers are so thick, and more and more of his tanned, weather-worn skin is exposed to you as they work to unbutton his shirt.

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling at this point, imagining those fingers sinking deep inside you before you can stop yourself. Fuck, you're pent up. And should probably have a lot more shame, but now he's unzipping his jeans, and you feel like you're about to combust.

You let out a pained noise without meaning to and he chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up the pace. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," he teases, dropping his pants to the floor. "Why don't you get the water goin' for me?"

Now you're the one having trouble looking away. Damn, who even is this guy? He’s nothing like the Joel you’ve known for years, and definitely not the Joel who stepped into this bathroom ten minutes ago. If you'd known it would go like this, you would’ve invited him to shower with you a long time ago.

He’s down to just his boxers now, and maybe it's wishful thinking, but he looks like he’s already hard. Swallowing is suddenly extremely difficult, so you shoot him one last appreciative look before doing what he asked.

You turn the water back on and it’s still pleasurably warm as it rains down onto your tense shoulders. The steady pressure soothes some of the nerves while you wait for him to join you, but you’re so caught up in the moment that you don't notice the curtain opening.

"Scoot over," he murmurs behind you, his breath fanning out over the back of your neck. He’s close, so much closer than you expected him to be. You assumed you’d be dancing around each other for at least a little while longer, but it seems like Joel knows exactly what he wants, and it’s not just the shower.

He reaches around you to grab that expensive bottle of shampoo you’ve been looking forward to, his fingers grazing your bare skin, and you shiver despite the heat of the water.

“Or you could stay right here,” he says, even closer now, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “We could help each other out—with washin’ up, I mean.”

You inhale shakily, your reply getting caught in your throat. “Y-yes—yeah, yes…we should definitely do that,” you breathe out.

He chuckles and the sound is surprisingly affectionate. It gives you hope that this won’t just be a one-time thing. That after all this time, he wants you as much as you want him.

You’re the first to initiate physical contact, reaching back to bury your fingers in his hair which, in retrospect, turns out to be a terrible idea. He’s still filthy, and your fingers get caught in tangles and dirt and…probably a lot of other nasty shit you don’t want to think about.

You snort out a laugh, turning around to face him. “I think you’re up first, handsome.”

The corners of his mouth tip up as he nods, and you can’t resist the urge to reach up and trace his bottom lip with your thumb. He kisses the pad of your finger, and you wish so badly that it was your lips.

For the second time tonight, you’re feeling incredibly impatient. You want to feel more of him, let him press you up against the wall and kiss you, touch you the way you both want him to, but it’ll have to wait.

You pluck the bottle from his hands and squeeze a huge dollop into your palm, telling him to turn around with a small smile. His eyes drop to the quirk of your lips for a moment too long before he obliges, and you’re starting to realize he’s getting impatient, too.

You reach up to thread your fingers into his graying hair and, somehow, the strands still feel soft despite everything tangled up in them. It’s going to take a decent amount of scrubbing before it’s back to its normal, fluffy state of disarray, but you’ll make it feel good for him. A little taste of what's to come.

He tips his head back as you massage in the shampoo, letting out the softest groan when your fingernails scratch along his scalp, and you have to press your thighs together to relieve the growing ache in your core. You’re not going to make it through this shower if he keeps making noises like that. But, of course, he does, and they're getting louder.

You can feel his body starting to respond to yours, too. It’s a little cruel how you’re purposely working him up, sliding a washcloth over his shoulders and across his back, letting your fingers skim teasingly over his skin as you stretch your arms around him to reach his front.

His stomach flexes under your palm, and he inhales sharply as your hardened nipples graze across his back. You continue your path down, running your fingers through the coarse hair at the base of his cock, and his hips jerk forward, seeking the friction you so desperately want to provide. He's panting, and you're both having a difficult time holding yourselves back.

Brown and red swirl in the water around your feet and down the drain, and it's enough to tell you that he's finally clean. And that you can finally touch him the way you want to.

Pressing yourself firmly against his back, you reach down to wrap your fingers around his cock and he feels huge in your hand, rock hard and pulsing with his racing heartbeat. You pump him a few times, giving him a firm squeeze at the base, and he keens, already leaking all over himself.

He braces a hand on your hip to steady himself as you trail open-mouthed kisses down his spine, digging his fingers in roughly when you slowly start to jerk him off in earnest.

"T-that's it, pretty girl—,” he pants heavily, eyes dropping down to watch you work him, and you twist your wrist up on the next stroke, thumbing over his head. "Keep goin', just like that."

You whimper damply against his skin at the pet name, feeling a pleasurable whoosh in your belly as your cunt drips pathetically down your thighs. The throbbing between your legs is almost unbearable, but you don't want to let him go, not when his hips are meeting your fist so fucking desperately. You wedge a hand between your bodies, slipping it lower and lower until your fingers rub against your slick folds, gathering some of the wetness to rub soothing circles into your clit.

“I got you, I got you,” you moan at the sudden relief. Your caresses start to match his thrusts, and soon he's trembling in your arms, whimpering like he'll cum any second if you let him. You rub your cheek tenderly against his back, murmuring soft, encouraging words into his heated skin.

"You're doing so, so well," you tell him, and he seizes up at the praise, chest heaving as you focus your attention closer to the tip. "You wanna cum or are you gonna wait for me? Want you to fill me up…can you do that for me?"

For a second, you think your words might've thrown him over the edge, his hips stuttering against your palm even as you slow your movements. But he's still clearly fighting the urge to cum, and that has to mean he wants to fuck you badly.

His hand shakes as it lifts to wrap around yours, guiding you down to squeeze the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm, but you're not making it easy for him. You barely notice your other hand still working your pussy, too turned on to realize you've started pumping two fingers in and out of yourself.

Joel notices, though. Something that sounds almost animalistic tears its way out of his chest as he turns on you, snatching your hand out of your cunt and slamming it against the shower wall. Your fingers are shiny and glistening with your wetness and he leans forward to suck each of them into his mouth, groaning at your taste on his tongue.

The look on his face makes it seem like you're the best meal he's ever had, and you feel a strong, sudden urge to have his tongue in your mouth so you can taste yourself. He pulls off your middle finger with an audible pop, and then you're crashing your lips into his, immediately licking into him.

God, why do you taste so good in his mouth? It's salty and heady, and really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but you can't bring yourself to care as his tongue tangles with yours. You feel two—shit, no, it’s three—of his fingers slip into you, and, holy fuck, they're so much bigger than yours. You're already so full and they feel even thicker at the base, nudging a spot that makes you see stars.

There's no way his cock is going to fit inside you…right? But the thought of him trying anyway almost makes you cum on the spot. Another wave of heat crashes through you and your walls convulse around him, pussy gushing down his fingers, and he abruptly breaks away from your lips, groaning lowly, desperately.

"Fuck, I-I need—shit, I need to fuck you, pretty girl," he twitches against you, leaking a glob of precum as he ruts into your belly. “M'gonna fill ya up real good, just like you wanted—," and you gasp, clamping down on his fingers one more time before he's pulling them out and hauling you into his arms, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he shoves you higher up the wall.

His hands roam your skin hungrily before eventually settling under the soft swell of your ass, holding you up as he slicks up his cock between your folds. Every time the tip catches your clit, your hips buck clean off the wall and he presses into you harder to keep you in place. You bury your face in his neck, thighs squeezing into his sides.

"S'not gonna fit," you slur, a little drunk off how good he feels between your legs. The next time his hips buck forward, the blunt head of his cock catches your entrance. "J-Joel—ngh…Joel, s'too big, you have to make it fit, please."

And that's when his patience runs out.

He sheathes himself to the hilt in one harsh thrust, growling roughly into your hair, and the stretch is mind-numbing. He stays deep, letting you adjust to the feeling of being split open, and his head drops to your shoulder. His eyes are locked on where you're joined, your pussy stretched around him almost obscenely.

"Would'ja look at that," he mumbles to himself, rocking in and out slowly as he turns his head to suck a bruise into your collarbone. You reach a hand down curiously, wanting to feel yourself around him, and your jaw drops when your fingers brush where his thickness is forcing your cunt to yield to him. "Knew you could take me…pussy feels s-so fuckin' good, like you were made for me."

You whine pathetically as the ache starts to subside and the need for him to fuck you becomes overwhelming. Pleasure blooms where he's already grazing that heavenly spot again, and you tug his head back by his hair, bringing his attention back up to you.

Everything pauses, just for a moment. You kiss his lips delicately, so much more delicate than he's about to be with your body but, right now, you need him to know that it's more than this for you. More than the sex and the physical intimacy. And the way he kisses you back reassures you beyond a doubt that it's more than this for him, too.

Then, your patience runs out.

"Joel, move."

And suddenly, he's spearing up into that spot deep inside you with reckless abandon, bouncing you on his cock, and you're not entirely sure, but you might actually be screaming.

Your head lolls back, thudding dully against the wall, and he ducks down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue circling the nub as he continues you work you up and down his shaft. The sound your pussy's making around him should be humiliating, but it only spurs him on, the wet squelching echoing loudly over the running water.

"Hear that? That's all you, baby. So fuckin' wet, look at that," and he's watching himself again in awe as he fucks in and out of you. You follow his gaze and, holy shit, he's not kidding. You're absolutely soaking him. "You look so good like this, so goddamn pretty stretched around my cock."

You still haven't completely acclimated to how thick he is, not sure you ever actually will, and the syrupy-sweet pain of him has you clawing at his back. You use the wall as leverage, arching just enough so you can actively meet his thrusts, and the new angle sends you reeling.

"Feels so…full, so full," you gasp, your back inching higher up the wall with the force of his thrusts. "K-keep going…there, Joel, there."

It's not just that one spot he's hitting anymore—fuck, it feels like he's everywhere. The ridge of his cock is rubbing your walls just right and every other thrust fucks deep enough to graze your cervix. You sob at the onslaught of overpowering pleasure, burying your hands in his hair to tether yourself as your brain begins to fizzle.

Just a little more, you only need a little bit more. You can feel the lower half of your body locking down and, as if he can sense exactly what you need, he grinds his cock in as deep as it'll go.

"That's it, baby. C'mon, give it to me," he grits against your throat. "Squeezin' me so fuckin' tight, you're almost there."

The coarse hairs at the base of his cock scrape roughly and a little painfully against your swollen clit as you rock against him, but the slide is still so slick and raw that your thighs begin to quake around his waist, and it's—fuck, it's so…so…

"M'gonna fucking cum—gonna…oh fuck, fuck, Joel," your lips part around what you pray is a silent scream and your body goes rigid, cunt spasming violently around him.

He chokes out a moan as you clamp down impossibly tighter on his cock. "Fuckin' hell, there we go," he rasps out shakily as he fucks you into the wall blindingly hard, letting you ride him through your orgasm.

"So, s-so good. Feels so fuckin' good," he's starting to mumble to himself deliriously, squeezing your ass hard enough to bruise. You whimper helplessly as his thrusts get sloppier and more desperate, "Gonna fill you up 'til it's leakin' out…c-can I, pretty girl? Please…bet you'd look so fuckin' good with my cum spillin' out of you—"

Before you can even answer, you feel him throb and then his entire body stills, his cock visibly pulsing as he empties into you. He moans his way through it, his head dropping to your shoulder again to watch himself pump you full of cum just like he said he would.

If you thought you felt full before, it's nothing compared to how you feel right now. He's still so deep, twitching pathetically inside you as he lifts his head to nose at the underside of your jaw. He presses a soft kiss there and you sigh, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter.

"Christ, Joel, where did that come from?" you rasp out. He chuckles, and his whole body shakes with it, jostling his hips into your sensitive clit. Your pussy flutters around him and his breath hitches, fingers digging into the softness of your thighs. He still hasn't pulled out and you have a feeling he doesn't want to.

"Been waitin' a long time for that," he murmurs, meeting your eyes. You smile softly, and your lips command his attention. "Waited a long time for you."

So full of surprises tonight. You’ve traveled with him for years, settled down with your kid, but you never expected this. For him to finally feel the same way you do, to fuck you like that. You’re suddenly extremely thankful he came home in dire need of a shower.

You run your hands up his chest, settling one on his shoulder and burying the other in his hair. The dirt, the grime—it's all gone now, replaced by your release and the sweat of your exertion. He smells so good, just like your fancy shampoo. Just like home.

You lean in to kiss him deeply and he melts into you, his lips soft and warm against yours. When you part, you're met with that look again. The one he gave you after you asked him to shower with you, and that he hasn't stopped giving you since. Like he's observing you, contemplating you.

You recognize it now—it's hope.

"I've been waiting a long time for you too, Joel."

He kisses you again, holding you close as the water goes ice cold.

thanks so much for reading! 🥰

[mrsbarnesblog]

Mattheo Riddle headcanons

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: what is it like dating Mattheo

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: fluff, no mention of y/n, you can be in any house, spicy content under the warning

Author’s note: For all my Bucky fanfic readers, I'm sorry that I haven’t posted in almost a month. This December is just too overwhelming, and every time I tried to finish my fic, it felt like I was wasting my time. I literally just miss the ending, and I hope to finish it as soon as possible.

For my possible new followers and/or HP stans, Mattheo is my current obsession, and I’m literally head over heels for him. And you know what they say: if you can’t find a fanfic that you like, write it yourself. So yeah, I'm trying something new, and I have a few ideas that are poisoning my head every single minute lmao.

sorry if there are any mistakes. hope you’ll like it💘🎀

Mattheo was never that much of a playboy because he didn’t like to share his space and, well, communicate with people in general

Due to his family, he was really reserved and refused to be weak

You weren’t that popular in school, so he had never really noticed you but one day, you suddenly started hanging out with Pansy and he could not get you out of his head anymore

He hated it

He hated that you occupied all of his thoughts for at least a few weeks 

Tried to ignore his feelings for you as long as possible, but from the moment you two had to work together on the project, everything went downhill 

He was scared to ask you out, not ready to be rejected by the only person he genuinely liked and thinking that maybe you secretly hated him like everyone else

At the beginning of the relationship, Mattheo told you that sometimes he might get cold and distant, but it wasn’t your fault and that you should just give him some time 

Mattheo is romantic and for his favorite girl, he always arranged the best dates

He was nervous to kiss you after the first date when he walked you to your dorm

Little did he know, but that sexy smirk and the way he looked at you all night drove you insane

So you just pulled him by the tie, connecting your lips

Since then, Mattheo has been addicted to you

Hands are always on you, holding your hand, your waist or your thighs

Looks at you as if you hung the moon and the stars

He kisses you in front of everyone to make sure that they know that you are his, and he is yours

Likes to pull into into his lap while he’s talking with his friends in the common room

Holding you close, slowly strokes your arms or your back, unable to keep his hands away from you

Whispers sweet nothings

Loves your smell and always buries his nose into your hair

He wears rings and allows you to steal them

His hoodies and t-shirts too

Secretly likes to be little spoon or lay on your chest while your hands are playing with his curls

Buys you everything you might possibly like, even though you always tell him to stop spending his money on you

Likes to study with you because you can actually get ready for the lessons while he has another opportunity to stare at you 

So overprotective and always snaps back at people who, even in the slightest way, disrespect you

He never lets you go to the parties alone in case some creepy guys decide to hit on you

Possesive

When you’re wearing revealing clothes, one part of him is proud and wants to brag that his girlfriend is the sexiest woman on the planet, but the other part wants to cover you with big blanket and keep you to himself

Always sarcastic and sassy

Fights a lot 

He had never gone to the medical wing because he wasn’t used to asking for help, but since you started dating, he let you heal his wound 

Loves when you scold him for those fights, just because you look so cute when you’re angry and he has an excuse to kiss and spoil you 

He has anger issues, but he has never raised his voice at you

Actually, you are like a sedative to him because only you can calm him down in a matter of seconds 

Will never make you feel uncomfortable or insecure

You don’t like something or someone? Mattheo will make sure to get you out of the room and won’t let that person come near you ever again

The way you call him “Matty” turns him into a literal puddle

Can’t sleep without you in his arms

spicy

During your first time, he was super attentive and always checked whether you were okay or not

Praises. A lot of fucking praises

“You’re taking me so good, my love”, “you look so pretty when you cum around me.” 

He likes every position, but prefers when he can see your face

There is literally not a single place in his dorm where you two haven’t had sex

Gets turned on literally by everything you do

He’s risky. As soon as he finds out that you actually liked it, he always teases you under the table, pulls you into the storage rooms, and talks dirty while there are a lot of people around

Got you two in detention a few times for getting caught kissing at night by Snape (you were lucky that he caught you before Mattheo’s hands slipped under your skirt)

His personal favorite is sex in the astronomy tower. The way you’re trying to hold back your moans drives him crazy

Also bathtub in the prefects’ bathroom, where you love to sit with him deep inside of you  

He usually dominates, but sometimes likes to let you be in charge and see how you ride him

He has a big appetite, and what is the best way to deal with it? Right, you.

Mattheo would’ve spent hours in between your legs if you allowed him

He never asks for anything in return, but still seeing you on your knees for him is a fucking miracle

Your hair are around his hand, while you’re taking as much of him in your mouth as you can

Eye contact

He’s willing to try in bed anything that you want, except things that might get you hurt

He likes to keep his hand on your neck while he’s thrusting into you but never actually squeezes

Can be rough and fast or really gentle and slow, depending on the mood

After someone pisses him off or if you had a small fight, he always fucks you into the bed with your hands pinned above you until you’re literally crying from pleasure

By the way, when you don’t have time to put a spell on the room, it gives him satisfaction to know that everyone hears the way you moan for him

He always makes sure that you came, and if you didn’t, he’s more than happy to go down on you

Love confessions 

Aftercare is a must

Hugs, kisses, food, baths—anything you might want

He always keeps you close until you fall asleep and then just stares at you, wondering how he could be so happy to have you  

[no-144444]

dangerous media- o.piastri

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pairing: oscar piastri x fem! Skyf1interviewer! reader

summary: things go downhill fast as you fall, and he has to catch you. what makes it worse is what he says after…

part one | part two | part three | part four

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You sat in the media pen, an exhausted look on your face. It had been an awful 36 hour day, you were tired, sick, and you just wanted to crash in your hotel room. But, you couldn’t do that, because you still had interviews left.

Jenson stood beside you, already practically asleep. You’d had 4 flights cancel, and then the next flight got delayed, and so on and so forth. You two were not in the mood for a self-deprecating Lando Norris, nor an arrogant Lance Stroll, or god forbid, an angry Kevin Magnussen.

“Can I take Oscar?” you asked, just wanting a calm and collected person to deal with.

Jenson sighed but nodded. “Then I get first dibs at quali,” he bargained. You agreed.

Oscar came walking out, calm as ever. He was P2 in FP2, not bad considering last year, finishing in 8th. You stood up, but too quickly. Immediately, you knew you’d made a grave mistake, Jenson tried to grab you,but it was much too late, and it all went black.

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You woke up in the med tent with a pounding headache and someone’s hand in yours. “Jen, I’m fine-” you started sitting up, but it was Oscar who pushed you back down, he was holding your hand.

“Don’t get up too fast,” he instructed, making you lie back down. “We don’t want you fainting again.”

“Oscar?” You questioned.

“Hey,” he smiled, happy that you were awake.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You fainted in the media pen, I brought you here about 30 minutes ago,” he explained. “You’re dehydrated.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m fine,” you scoffed, trying to get up again. Again, he pushed you back down.

“You’re not. You’ll stay here until you have a clean bill of health,” he said, stricter and more serious than you’d ever seen him. “I have to go do some media, but I’ll be back in a half an hour, and I’ll bring you back to your hotel, yeah?”

You nodded, accepting your fate. “Whatever you say, doc.”

He smiled. “Good. See you then.”

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Usually, you would’ve told him to go fuck himself (you weren’t one to be told what to do), but considering how weak you felt and how little you wanted to go out there and ask more questions, you stayed put.

You thought about him, though. Oscar. After looking it up online, you did find out that your fainting was filmed. You watched in embarrassment as you went to the ground, Jenson yelping. What came next shocked you. Oscar quite literally jumped over the barrier, almost knocking over an entire camera, and ran over to you, cradling your head as he got others to step back and instructed Jenson to go get a medic. Then he turned to the cameras, and actually shouted at them to ‘fuck off’. Oscar Piastri showing emotion in 4K.

What was he, superman? Was he trying to make the dating rumours worse?

Either way, you appreciated the fact that he saved you, and the fact that he turned the cameras away from you too. You were also subject to the online conversations surrounding you and Oscar’s relationship. You rolled your eyes as every second comment was some variation on “oh my god the way he looks at her!!!”

Couldn’t people be friends anymore? Couldn’t people be nice anymore?

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You watched Oscar’s interviews from your laptop, then after 10 minutes from when his interviews ended, he appeared in front of you.

“My knight in shining armour,” you teased.

“You watched the interviews?” He sighed.

“Oh yeah,” you chuckled. Half of the interviews were about what had happened earlier and how Oscar had reacted. Jenson had called him your ‘knight in shining armour’ and now it would be his new nickname. “But seriously, thank you for everything, I’m feeling much better now.”

He nodded. “Anyone would do it.”

You shook your head. “You jumped over a barrier, almost knocked over a camera, made Jenson run, and told about 60 people to fuck off and stop filming me. That’s no small feat. Thank you Oscar.”

He blushed slightly. “You’re welcome.”

“I’d better head to my hotel, thank you again Oscar-”

“Let me drive you,” he offered.

“Oscar, you’ve done enough for me today-” “Please let me-”

“I don’t think it comes into the job of being a knight in shining armour-” “Please let me-” “Oscar seriously, I’m alright-”

“Let me drive you!” He finally raised his voice, speaking over you. “It’s ok to rely on people! You don’t need to be so stubborn!”

You silenced, your ego slightly bruised. “Fine,” you murmured, grabbing your things and getting up.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean it like-”

“I know what you meant,” you gritted out. “I’m letting you drive me, come on.”

He followed behind you, upset about how he’d handled the situation. He just wanted to take care of you. He wanted you to notice how much he cared.

He sat in the driver's seat and looked over at you. You stared straight ahead. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“You don’t need to be sorry Oscar,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands.

“I do,” he shook his head. “I should be, I’m sorry. I love that you’re stubborn. You’re so smart, and independant and I understand that. I know you can take care of yourself, I just wanted to remind you that you don’t always have to.”

You sighed and took his hand, looking at him. “Thank you for today Oscar, but please just drive me to my hotel.”

He nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you, and off he went. He walked you up to your hotel room, helped you into bed and promised to pick you up in the morning, and you were much too pissed off and tired to disagree.

He had a lot more than just qualifying on his mind went he went to bed.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

part one | part two | part three | part four

[jaeyunverse]

the 24-hour dating challenge

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genres: fluff, crack, mutual pining, suggestive, best friends to lovers, influencer au

wc: 8145

warnings: profanity, hoon is a loser and down bad sawry, you can’t see the mutual pining but that’s a skill issue on my part bc i swear it’s there, fic is completely from sunghoon’s pov, this was supposed to be short and sweet but it got kinda spicy towards the end LMAOAO but nothing happens so dw!!

summary: being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.

moodboard: one ☆ two

note: omg i didn’t think i would struggle w this oneshot but i lowkey did w the last part ☹️ i think it’s bc it has been a while since i raw dogged a fic HAHDHS anyway i hope the end doesn’t seem super abrupt and y’all enjoy! i would love to hear your thoughts + feedback :’)

inspiration: evelyn and fred (♡)

masterlist

“Your followers want me to do what?” 

Sunghoon was positive he’d misheard you. However, part of him hoped you’d confirm the life-altering information you’d casually uttered without even bothering to look away from the TV screen.

“Hoon!” you exclaimed, your fingers aggressively moving about the gaming console. “Oh, my God, they’re coming after me! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK—” you screeched— “Nonononono I can’t take them by myself! You testicle-guzzling cocksucker, why did you die when I needed you the most?!” 

Sunghoon watched you struggle warily. Your leg was bouncing with anxiety and your eyes were bulging out of their sockets. He wasn’t entirely sure you were breathing. Beads of sweat were clinging to your forehead, and your face was scrunched up in a weird, constipated expression. 

There was a good chance you’d utter fouler insults if he disturbed you while playing, but he couldn’t stop himself from broaching the subject. “Are we just going to pretend you didn’t say the thing you just said?” 

“The thing about you being a testicle-guzzling cocksucker?” you gritted. “No.”

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “The thing about your followers wanting us to date for a video.” 

For a few moments, you didn’t deign to acknowledge him. Then, as if a switch inside you had flipped, you pulled the TV’s plug and turned to face him. “Would it be weird?” 

Wow. Okay, Sunghoon mused. I think it would be a fantastic idea and a dream come true, but I don’t trust myself around you. Even as a mere friend.  

However, instead of voicing his thoughts, the boy simply shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve been friends for several years now. I’m a regular on your YouTube channel and I think your fans are aware of the dynamics of our relationship. What do they mean when they say they want us to date? Physical intimacy aside, we already do everything couples do.” 

“I think they want us to be romantic,” you admitted. “Go on a date, hold hands, cross some lines.”

“Cross some lines?” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip curling in a smirk. “Is this you speaking or your subscribers?”

Groaning in exasperation, you shoved his shoulder. He fell back on the couch, laughing. “Shut up, dickface! You know I’ve been swamped this semester. My influencer gig has been seriously lacking. I need to step up—do what they want me to do. Besides, we only have to be girlfriend and boyfriend for 24 hours. It’s really not that big a deal. Are you in or not?”

Sunghoon took a few seconds to mull over your words. Sure, he would love to be your boyfriend for 24 hours. As long as his fantasies were brought to reality, he didn’t care if the whole relationship was fake and short-lived. 

For far too long, he’d pined after you. He thought he was doing an excellent job at hiding his feelings, but then you decided to make vlogs for fun. That’s when shit actually went downhill. 

Within a few years, you’d amassed a following of over 5 million on YouTube and 3 million on Instagram. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you’d become somewhat of a local celebrity.  

Being one of your closest friends, Sunghoon was often featured in your videos. Initially, he’d baulked at the idea of being filmed, but you’d worked your magic on him. The boy soon found himself being comfortable around cameras. 

Even though Sunghoon never started his own YouTube channel, his popularity grew along with yours. His Instagram had garnered over two million followers, and courtesy of his good looks and attractive physique, he’d been offered a bunch of brand deals too.

You’d scowled at how far Sunghoon’s pretty privilege had gotten him. While you busted your ass coming up with unique ideas and editing your videos to perfection, all he needed to do was show up. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that part of the reason he’d become a heartthrob among the youth was you. 

You might have been dumb and blind, but your followers certainly were not. They’d realised how Sunghoon looked at you—his eyes always twinkled and a fond smile automatically adorned his lips whenever he caught sight of you. 

To add to that, your fans had pointed out habits he didn’t even know he possessed. For example: idly braiding your strands; bringing you snacks whenever he swung by your apartment; saying hey, sunshine and giving you a side hug by way of greeting; disguising his compliments as insults. 

The list was embarrassingly long.

They’d noticed the elastic he kept around his wrist at all times too—it was one of the two you’d used to tie his hair into little ponytails because you were convinced you could transform him into Boo from Monsters, Inc.   

Sunghoon himself had forgotten the reason he wore the elastic around his wrist. All he knew was that it was yours and it felt right. But when he read the comments obsessing about it, he rushed to watch the video your fans were referring to. 

And damn, they were right. 

Sunghoon didn’t know if you’d seen the comments your fans regularly left on your various social media pages. You’d never mentioned anything about the community calling you “couple goals,” and he was too much of a coward to inquire if you were aware. 

It was infuriating to know how transparent he was. Sunghoon wished he’d never gotten used to the camera and let slip his true self. 

Perhaps this was the cost of gaining the boyfriend material label—his unrequited feelings exposed for the entire world to see. 

Sunghoon would never admit it, but he’d spent the better part of a day reporting everyone who’d shipped him with you. The entire incident had truly made him go off the rails. 

However, today’s revelation was unexpected. It was an opportunity. A chance to experience something he’d desired for many years. Suddenly, he found himself thanking those busybodies online instead of cussing them out for being ridiculously invested in his love life.

Sunghoon knew saying yes to your proposition would bite him in the ass later on. He knew he’d crave more of you once he got a taste of being your boyfriend, and giving this fake relationship a shot would definitely make it harder for him to get over you in the future. He knew he was a massive idiot for willingly indulging in impending heartbreak, but he could always cross that bridge when he came to it.  

“Okay,” he said, meeting your gaze. “I’m in.”

There was a small chance Sunghoon was getting ahead of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken it upon himself to organise the perfect date. 

Being bitchless his entire life wasn’t doing him any favours in performing the task. Originally, he’d figured he would do a quick Google search and plan a day according to the results shown.

Unfortunately, most activities on the list were things the two of you already did on a normal basis. He’d racked his brain to think of a unique idea after scrolling through the internet for hours on end and coming up empty-handed. 

Karaoke? Check. Restaurant hopping? Psh, you did that every weekend. Rock climbing? He was scared of heights. Bowling? Boring. Concert? None of your favourite artists were in town. Clubbing? He would rather spend quality time with you than get both of you wasted. Arcade? Basic and low-budget; he didn’t want to be cheap. Road-trip? Needed more than just 24 hours.

Sunghoon wondered if he was the problem. He’d shot down every option he’d come across so far by classifying it as not good enough. His stress levels were skyrocketing trying to make your 24-hour relationship perfect.

An entire day’s research had ended up being fruitless. You’d decided to go through with the challenge on Sunday, so he only had tomorrow to come up with something satisfactory. 

Sighing, Sunghoon rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. He eyed his phone on the bedside table for a few seconds, contemplating whether he should just call you and ask if you had anything in mind. 

Before he could rethink his choice, he picked up the device and dialled you. 

“Hey.” Your voice on the other end was deep and hoarse. A glance at the wall clock informed Sunghoon it was past midnight, and he’d likely woken you up. Guilt twisted his stomach. “Is something wrong?”

“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was late,” he mumbled. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I was watching a movie and passed out halfway through it. I needed to finish it anyway.” 

Lying back on his bed, Sunghoon inquired, “Ready or not?”

“Yeah.” You huffed a laugh. “I finally got around to seeing it. Your choice, as always, is impeccable.” 

Though you couldn’t see him, he raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say you dozed off in the middle of it?” 

“Well, yeah, but that’s because I’m not a stupid nocturnal with no care for their sleep cycle and health.” 

“Ouch.” Sunghoon clutched his chest. He could practically hear you roll your eyes. “No need to be so harsh.”

You hummed absent-mindedly, a yawn escaping your lips. “Was there a reason you hit me up, or can I get back to the movie?” 

“Oh, yeah.” Sunghoon cleared his throat. “Do you have any suggestions for the challenge? I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I haven’t come up with anything interesting.” 

“Not really. I tried researching a bit, and there isn’t much we don’t already do. I’m starting to wonder if the only difference between a platonic and romantic relationship is physical intimacy. I’m sure we can reach a consensus though,” you added.  

Sunghoon groaned. “This is proving to be more difficult than I—”

“WAIT!” you interrupted him with an exclaim. “How about a picnic date? We’ve been talking about going on one with the rest of our friends for ages, but it’s never worked out. Let’s go—just the two of us. We can choose outfits for each other too! I’ll order you something online, and you do the same for me. We can spend the rest of our day doing whatever you want.” 

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Right?” you giggled. “Maybe we can spread a blanket in the park under a tree and have a nice brunch. I’ll organise it!”

“I’ll take care of dinner and plan another activity for us to do between the two meals.” He grinned. “Looks like we might actually be able to pull this off, Y/N.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited to film a video,” you admitted.

Sunghoon’s heart fluttered, and his lips widened into a smile. “Me too.”

Everything was set. You’d received the dress Sunghoon had ordered for you, and he’d taken delivery of the one you’d bought for him.

Upon opening the package, Sunghoon was surprised to see you’d accidentally ended up matching outfits. While he’d chosen a white summer dress with blue flowers for you, you’d picked out a white graphic tee and low-rise, faded blue, baggy jeans for him. 

The fit was minimal—something that he would have purchased if he’d seen it in a mall. 

Grabbing a pair of sunglasses and running a hand through his messy hair, Sunghoon made a beeline for his car. He shot you a quick text regarding his ETA before backing the vehicle out of his driveway.

[hoon]: omw be there in 10

[y/n]: okie i’ll wait for u. call me when ur outside!!!!!!!!!

Averting his gaze to the road again, Sunghoon took a deep breath. He’d finally planned the perfect day out. It took a lot of effort and coordination on his part, but the several favours he had to call in were worth it. 

He’d probably gone over the top, especially considering the fact that this wasn’t even real, but he was determined not to half-ass anything. He had one chance, and he’d damn well make sure he didn’t waste it.

Turning the corner of your house, Sunghoon dialled your number. “I’m here.” 

“Coming,” you popped, the sound of your footsteps descending the stairs audible through the call. 

He grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the backseat, got rid of his sunglasses and exited the car. Your door opened a few seconds later, and Sunghoon’s world slipped from under his feet. 

God, you were beautiful. So beautiful and so fucking pretty in the dress he’d chosen for you. The material fit you perfectly—it accentuated your upper body and was flowy from your lower waist. The dress was almost ankle-length with a side slit that began at your upper thigh. Your shoulders and collar bones were exposed, a gold pendant filling the empty space the deep square neckline left in its wake. 

Your left shoulder was carrying a tote bag, and your right hand was holding a large picnic basket. Much to Sunghoon’s surprise, your free hand was wrapped around a bouquet too. 

Snapping himself out of his reverie, he took the basket from you and placed it inside the car. “You look amazing, sunshine,” he breathed. “Just—wow.”

Giggling, you did a little twirl for him. “Thanks! I love what you’ve done with your hair. It makes you more attractive.”

Sunghoon mock-saluted and bowed dramatically, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Took me ten minutes to style it.” Glancing at the flowers in your hand, he asked, “You got me flowers?” 

Maybe his eyesight was faulty, but Sunghoon felt your entire demeanour suddenly change. Tucking a stray strand behind your ear, you averted your gaze from his and shyly mumbled, “You took it upon yourself to plan the majority of the day. The least I could do was gift you some flowers.” 

Right when Sunghoon thought he couldn’t love you any more than he already did, you went ahead and did this. He’d never received flowers in his life before, and the gesture meant everything to him. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he took the bouquet from you. “Thank you,” he said, voice heavy with gratitude. “Don’t kill me, but I don’t know the name of these flowers.” 

Laughing, you pinched his cheek. “They’re asters.” 

“What do they mean?” 

“Why don’t you search it up when you go home?” you quipped. “Let me know once you find out.”  

Sunghoon shrugged and handed you the flowers he’d bought for you. “Sunflowers for my sunshine.” 

A wide grin broke across your lips. “They’re my favourite!” 

“I know, dummy,” he said, flicking your forehead and opening the passenger’s door for you. “That’s why I got them for you.” 

“Be nice!” you complained as he walked around the car. Taking a seat beside you, he started the engine and began driving. “I’m your girlfriend!” 

“I just opened the door for you,” Sunghoon pointed out, promptly ignoring the way his heart rate picked up. “I think I’m being gentlemanly enough.” 

“That’s not a word.”

“Is too.”

“Is not.”

“Is too.”

“This is why you get no bitches.”

“I got you.”

“Are you calling me a bitch?”

“I’m calling you mine.”

Snorting, you said, “Not your best save, Park.” 

Biting down the smile threatening to break across his lips, Sunghoon said, “I’ll survive, but you should really start recording.” 

“Right,” you gasped, your eyes widening. Fetching the DSLR from your tote bag and switching it on, you placed it on the dashboard carefully. After ensuring that the camera was rolling, you began, “I’m in the car with Sunghoon right now. He just picked me up, but I lowkey forgot to record it.”

“Y/N was too busy gawking at me,” Sunghoon teased and raised an eyebrow at the lens. “I’m too attractive for my own good.” 

“Nobody’s buying your bullshit.” You rolled your eyes. “But if you do think he looks cute, it’s because I chose his outfit.” 

“And if you think she looks beautiful, that’s because I chose her outfit.” 

You nodded. “He did. We thought kicking off the challenge this way would be cool. Clothes were ordered by both of us individually, which means neither of us had any idea what had been chosen by the other until we met ten minutes ago. Crazy how we still ended up matching.”

“We exchanged flowers too. Y/N got me asters, and I got her sunflowers.” 

“Hoon has no idea what asters signify,” you commented and nudged him with your elbow. “He didn’t even know the flowers I gifted him were asters.”

“Don’t shame me for not being a nerd!” Sunghoon defended himself. “Only you can be the kind of person who reads The Language of Flowers and indulges in floriography because they’re bored.” 

 “Aaaand the worst boyfriend award goes to this guy sitting right next to me,” you announced, shooting him a nasty glare. “He’s been annoying me from the moment he came to pick me up.”

“I opened the door for you!”

“How long are you going to milk the one gentlemanly thing you did?” 

Sunghoon scoffed in disbelief. “I thought gentlemanly wasn’t a word.”

“I lied,” you popped and grinned cheekily. 

“The problem with this relationship is you, woman, not me.”

Laughing, you turned to the camera again. “We’re going on multiple dates today. I’ve organised a picnic brunch, and Hoon has organised dinner.”

“It’s a surprise,” Sunghoon explained. “But I can assure you that it’s going to be the coolest thing ever.”

You hummed in agreement. “I believe him. He always gives the best surprises. Anyway, I’m going to stop recording now, and I’ll see you guys once we reach the park. I think we’re almost there.” 

“Five minutes,” Sunghoon provided. 

You grabbed the DSLR and brought it close to your face. Cupping your hand over the lens as if you were telling it a secret, you whispered, “T-minus five minutes to the best picnic date ever. Bye!”

Despite it being June and most kids being on vacation, the park wasn’t crowded. 

Even though it was almost 10:30 and the sun was merciless, there were plenty of people jogging on the track. Sunghoon spotted a laughter club in session a few hundred metres away from where you’d laid your blanket under the tree.

Thanks to the clear sky and blowing wind, more than a few people had taken out their own picnic baskets and decided to enjoy the weather. A bunch of middle-schoolers were playing basketball about fifty metres away from your tree, and though Sunghoon would have appreciated the peace, it was fun to watch them run around on the court. 

You’d set up the camera immediately upon arrival. Even though it was still rolling, neither of you were aware of it. It lay forgotten to the side, and as far as Sunghoon was concerned, it was just the two of you.

“It’s a beautiful day,” you mumbled, gathering your strands and tying them up in a messy bun. “Really fucking hot though.” 

“You have some relief, at least,” Sunghoon said, pointing at your exposed shoulders and flowing dress. “I’m fully covered and positively dying in here.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Oops. That’s my bad.” 

Laughing, Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair. “What did you get for us to eat in that basket of yours?” he asked. “It was pretty heavy.” 

“Nothing much,” you answered and dragged the basket closer to you. Opening the lid, you pulled out Tupperware containing watermelons, muskmelons and mango slices. You’d also prepared a heart-shaped pizza and baked half a dozen macarons. Finally, you fetched a bottle filled with peach-iced tea and a pair of champagne glasses. 

Sunghoon gaped at the assortment of food you’d arranged. “Did you make everything by yourself?” 

“I wish,” you snorted. “Mom made the macarons and delivered them via FedEx. I don’t have the patience to bake.”

“Okay, but this is still crazy,” Sunghoon said, amazement evident in his tone. “The amount of effort you’ve put in is insane.” 

Blushing, you shoved his shoulder. “Stop! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m complimenting you!” he exclaimed, and served himself a piece of the pizza. “Bringing homemade food is the best thing you could’ve done. And God, this is delicious. I’m going to wife you right now.” 

You laughed incredulously. “Slow down, Romeo. We just started dating. How about you show me a good time first?” 

This. This was exactly the reason why Sunghoon didn’t entirely hate being stuck in the friend zone. Because no matter how much you told people you were just friends and there was nothing going on between the two of you, you were constantly flirting. 

The only reason he was afraid of confessing his feelings was that he didn’t know much of the flirting was real. It was the dynamic of your friendship—neither of you thought it was weird making suggestive comments. You were too comfortable with each other to let such things bother you. 

Sunghoon could no longer tell whether your relationship was still platonic. He was too hopelessly in love with you to keep knowing the difference between a joke and genuineness. His heart surged every time you said something only a romantic partner would, and his heart shattered every time he reminded himself that you didn’t actually mean it. 

You never meant it. 

But Sunghoon was a selfish person. He was going to take what he could get. He would rather be unintentionally strung along than give these moments up. The minuscule part of him that hated you for the pain you were causing him was nothing compared to the part of him that loved you unconditionally. 

Forcing himself out of his reverie, Sunghoon raised an eyebrow at you. “In front of everyone?”

“You’re so gross!” you snickered, your eyes shining with mischief. “I obviously mean when we get home!” 

I’m going to kill myself, Sunghoon thought. I’m going to kill myself before she kills me.   

The two of you had finished eating almost thirty minutes ago. Now, you were just lying on the blanket and staring at the sky, having conversations about the most random topics. 

You were talking shit about some know-it-all guy in your physics class, but Sunghoon wasn’t really paying any attention to what you were saying.

He was still stuck on what had happened an hour ago when you’d urged him to feed you because “that was what couples did.” 

Sunghoon didn’t give a shit what couples did. His biggest problem at the moment was his mind replaying the incident like a broken record. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He’d already known he was being an idiot by agreeing to come on this date, but he never thought he’d regret his decision this quickly.

“Are you okay?” 

Blinking, Sunghoon spared you a glance. “Peachy.” 

“Those kids over there are calling us,” you told him, pointing to the basketball court. “We should go see what they want.” 

Nodding, he pulled himself to his feet and gave you a hand. Leaving the DSLR under the tree wouldn’t have been safe, so you grabbed it and the two of you made your way to the children waiting for you. 

“Hey,” a perky boy greeted you enthusiastically. “I’m Hyun. We’ve been playing basketball for the past several hours. The team that wins 6 out of 11 matches has to treat the other team to ice cream. Unfortunately, 2 of our friends left, and now it’s just the 6 of us divided into 2 teams. We really don’t want to play half-court, but we can’t play full-court with a team of only 3 each. Do you guys want to play the last few matches with us? One match only lasts 15 minutes.” 

Sunghoon exchanged a look with you. Then, you glanced at your spot under the tree. Lastly, you checked out your outfit—the slit exposing most of your leg and the lack of coverage for your shoulders.

“I have a pair of shorts and a shirt in my car,” he informed you. 

You took a moment to weigh your options. Honestly, playing in the open when the sun was out to torture everyone didn’t sound appealing. There was also the issue of you needing to switch outfits, and you didn’t know if you wanted to take the effort of changing inside Sunghoon’s car. 

But kids had always been your weak spot and the little rascals were staring you down with their puppy eyes. 

You sighed. “Fine. We’re in.”

“I haven’t played in a while,” Sunghoon admitted. “I think it’s been over 6 months.” 

“I haven’t played since varsity girls either,” you said. The kids had left to take a break a few minutes ago and the court was empty save for the two of you.

You’d changed into his clothes, but the shirt was too long for you. So, you’d requested him to tie the extra into a knot at the back. Thankfully, the shorts could be tightened at the waist with lace. 

Sunghoon could get used to you wearing his wardrobe. 

He idly dribbled the ball the kids had given to him for safekeeping while you stretched your stiff muscles. “Then I guess we get to evaluate whose skills have become more rusty.”

“Free shots?” you asked, eyes alight with a competitive fire and a smirk tugging at your lips. “We can test our aim and get a feel of the baskets on this court. It would be a good warm-up exercise.”  

Sunghoon poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Bring your camera here. Record me from up close. I’m going to go for a layup.”

“Wow,” you scoffed but did as you were told nonetheless. Before stepping onto the court, you’d filmed Sunghoon and yourself, explaining that you were about to play basketball with a bunch of kids. Naturally, you’d decided not to record the match in order to respect the privacy of the children. “Don’t you think you’re getting ahead of yourself? I’m telling you right now that I won’t care if you miss the shot. I will use it to humiliate you in the video.” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. 

You switched on the DSLR and pointed the lens at him. “We’re doing free shots till the kids come back from their break,” you said. “Hoon’s convinced he can land a layup even though he hasn’t touched a ball for several months.” 

“Don’t condescend me,” Sunghoon grumbled as he walked to the 3-pointer line. “It’s not like I’ve completely forgotten how to play. I’m pretty sure I can nail a simple shot.”

“We’ll see.”

“You know what,” he called. “I’m going to dedicate this layup to you so that when I make it, you’ll know not to doubt my athletic prowess.”

All you did was raise an eyebrow. 

“This one’s for you, babe!” Sunghoon announced and began running. The ball was a number 6—smaller than the size 7 he was used to. The grip was worn due to excessive use, but he still had complete control over it. 

However, he misjudged the distance from the hoop. He realised a second too late that he’d taken the first step of the layup later than he was supposed to. 

The ball collided against the rim and rebounded.

“Air ball!” you hollered and zoomed into Sunghoon’s face. “Athletic prowess found to be missing! What a shame!” 

His cheeks, along with the tips of his ears, were red with embarrassment. He couldn’t even bring himself to look into the camera after making such a big fool out of himself.

“I am begging you, Y/N. Can we please edit that part out?” 

“I’m kicking your ass, Park.”

“I suggest you take the over-confidence down a notch.” 

You smirked, dribbling the basketball in place. Sunghoon was blocking the way to your side of the court, and each of the kids on your team had a man on them. Playing in the sun for so long must have tired them out because no one was making an effort to get rid of the shield standing in front of them.

The last match was a 1v1 at this point.  

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” you said, and dribbled the ball from between his legs. 

Sunghoon cursed under his breath and chased after you, but you were speeding away from him faster than he could keep up. The layup was clean and effortless. You barely broke a sweat. 

“SUCK IT!” you screamed. “Your team is going down!” 

Sunghoon rolled his eyes. He watched your team—Hyun, Chul and Dae—do the victory dance you’d taught them. It was hilarious because none of you had any coordination. The arm wave move made it seem as though all of you were having a seizure. 

“We still have fifteen seconds of the match left,” he pointed out, and pat Iseul’s back in reassurance. “Don’t go celebrating just yet.” 

 “You’re four points behind. Just admit defeat,” Dae said. “We’ve won!” 

“We’re not surrendering,” Hajoon said angrily. “Sunghoon will make sure we win.”

“Boys!” you interrupted loudly. “Let’s finish the championship sportingly. We’re playing for fun.” 

Chul muttered something under his breath that Sunghoon and you chose to ignore. 

“Seojoon,” Sunghoon called quietly. “Now that we have possession of the ball, I need you to pass it to me from below. Then I need Hajoon and Iseul to gang up on Y/N. Don’t push or shove; just keep her away. The worst thing we can do is commit a foul. The rest of the boys won’t be a problem, but I’ll need Seojoon to act as my shield in case they try to take the ball from me. Do not let anyone come near me under any circumstances. I’m going to go for a 5-pointer.”

The trio audibly gasped. 

Iseul nervously asked, “Are you sure you can score?” 

“Not without the three of you helping me out.” Sunghoon nodded. “Y/N is quick and slippery. Keep your eye on her. We’ll lose if she gets possession of the ball. I’ll take care of the rest.” 

The boys let out a sound of agreement and dispersed, taking their respective positions. 

Sunghoon searched for you, and when your gazes met, he made a gesture of slitting his throat. This time, you rolled your eyes and dismissed him without a word. 

“Let’s start,” you announced with a clap and got into position. He noticed you were standing away from the basket. The rest of your team was too. It dawned on Sunghoon that you’d positioned everyone in a way that would prevent them from committing a foul which would grant his team free throws. 

It was smart and reasonable of you to think that way. Sunghoon wasn’t known for landing 5-pointers. Heck, he never even attempted them. He usually went for layups and 3-pointers. 

Focusing on the game, he took a deep breath. Seojoon passed the ball at him as soon as you yelled Go!

Sunghoon dribbled to your side of the court immediately. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you hesitate, but your mouth parted in realisation the second you caught onto what he was doing. 

“Stay on her!” he yelled at Iseul and Hajoon. “Don’t let her go.”

Sunghoon dodged the rest of your teammates. Seojoon wasn’t doing a good job at keeping them away, but he didn’t have enough time to dwell on it. He could do this by himself as long as you were out of the picture. 

Sunghoon eyed the basket and bent at his knees, gathering enough momentum to jump. He’d been hitting the gym more often, and he hoped to God his hard work wouldn’t fail him at such a crucial time. 

Exhaling once, Sunghoon jumped and let the ball fly across the court. The moment the ball was out of his hands, you crashed into him, knocking him to the ground and falling on top of him. 

“Ow,” he muttered, his arm wrapping itself around your waist on instinct. “That’s foul play.” 

Before you could bite back, Sunghoon heard someone scream, “No way! Sunghoon did it!” 

Sunghoon grinned and craned his neck to look at his teammates. A laugh tumbled past his lips when he saw them doing the floss dance and playfully teasing the losing team.

The sound of your groan made him avert his attention to you. You’d raised your head to find out whether Sunghoon had made the basket, and upon realising that you’d lost the match, you let it fall on his chest again. “Man,” you grumbled in defeat.

“Aw,” Sunghoon teased. “It happens to the best of us.”

“Who asked?”

Snorting, Sunghoon loosened his grip around your waist. Rolling off him, you laid down on your back in the middle of the court next to him. “Am I supposed to buy you ice cream now?” 

He checked his watch before answering, “Nah. Let’s go home and freshen up. It’s almost time for my date.”

“The beach,” you marvelled. Both of you were standing on a cliff overlooking the expanse of sand and water. “I should have guessed.” 

Sunghoon agreed. It shouldn’t have been hard to pinpoint the venue of the date once he’d requested you to wear shorts and sandals. However, your obliviousness had worked in his favour. 

The entire thing was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to sweep you off your feet.

He averted his attention from the ocean to find that you were already staring at him. A soft smile was adorning your face, and with the breeze ruffling your unbound hair, you looked nothing short of a fairy tale. 

“Do you remember the last time we came here?” you inquired, and returned your gaze to the view again. Sunghoon didn’t bother to take his eyes off you—he couldn’t take his eyes off you. The reflection of the sunset in your irises was too intoxicating. “Jay, Jake, Yizhuo and Isa were with us. We spent the entire night talking around a bonfire. I couldn’t keep myself awake once the clock struck two. You tucked me close and let me rest my head on the space between your shoulder and neck. You kissed my forehead and promised me you’d wake me up in a few hours.” 

Sunghoon didn’t say anything. He only kept staring at the image of the sunset in your eyes—the way the ocean consumed the ball of fire the same way his love for you consumed his very being. 

Love shouldn’t hurt this much, he thought. It shouldn’t be this painful.  

“I remember the way you smelt,” you continued. “Like vanilla and sandalwood. I remember wanting to pull you closer because you also smelt like home. I hated moving to a new city for college. I missed our hometown. I missed life being simpler. I missed the old times. But those brief moments before I fell asleep reminded me that not everything had changed. The clumsy boy I’d met in kindergarten was still with me. Sure, he was a bigger pain in my ass than he had been when we were kids, but he hadn’t left my side even once. And I knew he wouldn’t for a long time.”

“You’ve been the only constant in my life, Sunghoon,” you mumbled and turned your body towards his. Snaking your arms around his waist, you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for being a good friend to me. I love you.”

And though Sunghoon knew you didn’t mean it the way he wished you did, he returned your embrace and confessed, “I love you too.” 

“What the fuck?” you whispered and let go of Sunghoon’s hand to jog ahead. “WHAT THE FUCK? IS THAT A CANDLELIGHT DINNER?” 

Laughing in amusement, he pocketed his hands and watched you freak out. The beach was usually crowded at this hour, but he’d asked Jake—the surfer of their group—if there was anywhere he could spend the evening undisturbed. 

“Your eyes do not deceive you,” he joked as he approached you. “I know it’s kind of corny, but this was the most romantic date setting I could think of.”

“Corny?” you exclaimed incredulously. “This is amazing!” Nudging him with your elbow, you teased, “I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“You would have known a lot more if you’d asked me out before,” Sunghoon smirked, a suggestive undertone to his comment. “But I suppose we can make do with what we have now.”

You snorted. “You’re insufferable.” Then added, “I don’t want to shoot us having dinner here. Maybe I’ll just film the date set-up and our outfits, but I think I want this evening to remain between us only.”

“Oh.” Sunghoon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, sure, that works for me. Do you want me to get your camera?” 

The next five minutes were spent recording the date he had organised. The food was prepared by Jay, whose chef father had taught him a thing or two before the boy moved to the city for college. Sunghoon had dragged Yizhuo and Isa with him to shop for decor. 

They’d bought a soft blanket which was now spread on the sand. He’d also purchased six couch pillows to make the setting cosier. Fairy lights covered the perimeter of the throw. 

The coffee table Sunghoon had stolen from himself and brought to the beach was filled with all kinds of your favourite food, a scented candle burning in the centre of it. 

Since he’d known he couldn’t escape you to set up everything that he’d planned, he’d begged his friends to do it for him. Obviously, they’d teased him about it on their group chat, but he’d ignored them the way he always did. 

“I have another surprise,” Sunghoon popped as the two of you settled down on opposite sides of the table. “I don’t know if you’re going to be up for it though.”

“Is it the wine?” you asked, eyeing the corked bottle partially hidden under one of the pillows. “Because I saw it long back, and I am all for getting drunk.” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “Nah, it’s not the wine, but yeah, we’re getting drunk. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. But,” he continued, “I’d been going through Pinterest to search for date ideas when I called you in the middle of your movie a few nights ago. After our talk, I remembered you’d made this board with Karina when you were a thirteen-year-old.”

You gasped and reached over the table to smack his arm. “You stalked my Pinterest?! That is so uncool! There’s tons of embarrassing shit on there! I should have privated those boards when I had the chance,” you muttered to yourself. 

“Then I wouldn’t have rented a projector for us to watch a movie after we finish dinner.” Sunghoon grinned cheekily. “We are not watching some sappy romcom though,” he warned. “Soap2Day came in clutch so we can watch Suzume or Guardians of the Galaxy Volume 3. Your choice.”

Your mouth parted in surprise. For a few moments, you didn’t say anything. With a raised eyebrow, Sunghoon watched you struggle to form the words. “Okay, I know it was creepy to stalk you on Pinterest—” 

“NO!” you blurted, your eyes widening. “It’s not creepy! I just—No one has ever done anything of this sort for me. I don’t know what to say except… thank you.”

Before he could reply, you buried your face in your hands, and muttered, “Gosh, I sound so ungrateful, but I really do appreciate it. More than I can express.” Raising your head, you looked straight into his eyes. “I have this extremely strong urge to kiss you right now. Would it be fine with you if I acted on it?”

Sunghoon stopped breathing. His smile dropped, and his heart skipped a beat. The entire world could have crumbled, and he would have remained frozen in place, trying to make sense of what you’d just said. 

“W—what?” he croaked. 

You broke off the eye contact and dropped your gaze to the ground. “Sorry. That was stupid of me—”

“Yes,” Sunghoon breathed. “Yes, it would be fine with me.” 

You exhaled, appearing visibly relieved, and that somehow made him feel better about the sharp turn the evening had taken. Of course, he was thrilled you wanted to kiss him, but part of him couldn’t help but wonder if you’d regretted voicing your thoughts. 

Licking your lips, you unfolded your legs and scooted away from the table. Instead of standing up, you got on your knees and made your way towards him.

Sunghoon also moved away from the table to make space for you, and once you reached him, you swung your legs on either side of him. Straddling his lap, you towered over him. 

Snaking your arms around his shoulder, you glanced at his mouth. 

Even though it was driving Sunghoon out of his mind to not close the distance between your lips, he let you take your time. You traced your thumb across his lower lip and then shifted your hand to the back of his neck. 

Weaving your fingers through his hair, you let your eyes flutter shut and lowered your mouth over his. 

Sunghoon’s entire universe exploded into shards of molten light. A tidal wave of emotions crashed into him, setting his nerves on fire and making fireworks explode inside his chest.

The boy couldn’t have kissed you back any faster. Tilting his head to the side, he pulled you closer by the nape. 

Settling in his lap, you tugged at his hair, the nails of your other hand digging into his shoulder. 

A groan slipped past Sunghoon’s lips. God, he’d coveted the taste of you for so long, and now that he was finally kissing you, he realised he’d never estimated the magnitude of his love for you accurately before. 

Because this… this was everything. Sunghoon felt on top of the world, and pure euphoria was coursing through his veins. He couldn’t get enough of you. A single kiss would never be enough to satiate him. The floodgates were thrown open, and the thought of this being a one-time, impulsive thing made his gut twist painfully. 

He knew he needed to tell you. Right here, right now, he needed to tell you the truth. 

“Y/N.” Sunghoon gasped, breaking the kiss. He was leaning back now, his weight resting on his left elbow. The desperation and urgency with which you’d come onto him had been more than he could handle. “I need to tell you something.” 

Your eyes remained glued to his lips and there was a tinge of disappointment on your face. As if you didn’t want to stop. As if you wanted to keep going. 

With a jolt, it dawned on him that you probably wanted him just as much as he wanted you.  

The epiphany alone was enough for Sunghoon to consider ditching his plan of confessing his feelings and instead close the distance between your mouths again. But, he steeled his nerves and pushed himself into a sitting position.

He didn’t bother asking you to get up from his lap nor did he bother removing his left hand from your waist. If this confession went sideways, he’d end up losing you anyway. 

“What is it?” you whispered, your disappointed expression giving way to concern and nervousness. “Did I go too far? I’m sorry—”

“Stop,” Sunghoon ground out. “Please stop. Let me speak.” 

You pursed your lips, but he could tell you were scared shitless. There was fear in your eyes, and he hated making you feel as though you’d done something wrong when you’d given him the one thing he’d wanted more than anything else.

“I…” Sunghoon started, forcing himself to find the courage to say the words. “Y/N, I love you.” 

There it was. He’d done it. The cat was out of the bag, and all he could do now was wait with bated breath. 

Your mouth parted open, but no sound came out of it. Your face was unreadable. It was void of any emotion. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Sunghoon tore his gaze from yours and let out a humourless laugh. “Right. That’s okay—”

But then he felt your hands grabbing his jaw, making him pin his attention on you again. 

There was pure, unadulterated joy on your countenance, a wide smile adorning your lips. “I love you too,” you breathed. “Oh, my God, Sunghoon, I love you too.” 

Sunghoon blinked. “What?” he mumbled, his mouth set in a pout due to your squishing his cheeks. 

You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his puckered lips. “I love you too,” you repeated. 

Gripping your hands, Sunghoon removed them from his face and stared up at you in bewilderment. “You’re serious?” 

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?”

“Hasn’t it been obvious to you?” he shot back. “I’ve loved you since high school.”

You snorted. “So have I.” 

“Sophomore year.”

“Same.”

“I knew right after the homecoming ball.”

“Sucker!” you exclaimed. “I knew right after the game!” 

Sunghoon frowned. “It’s not a competition, Y/N,” he said, and then added, “But if it were, I would win. The amount of effort I’ve put into hiding my feelings is insane.”

“Sure,” you drawled. “That’s why all my followers keep saying it’s clear you’re in love with me.”

The tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment. “You saw the comments?” 

“Of course I did,” you answered, your voice soft. “I just never believed them. The notion never seemed possible. Isn’t it crazy how it was real this entire time?” 

Sunghoon chuckled. “We’re idiots.”

“We are,” you said, smiling at him in affection. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have ever said anything about what I truly felt if you hadn’t found the courage to confess to me.” 

“I know, I know,” you defended and rolled your eyes when he gave you a pointed look. “I did ask if I could kiss you. Trust me, I was more surprised than you were. Heck, I was fully prepared to play it off by spouting some bullshit in case you said no. What you did for me, Sunghoon… I couldn’t keep the urge inside me anymore. I didn’t care about the consequences. I didn’t care that there would be no turning back—I knew I had to take the risk. And I’m glad that I did.”

Sunghoon’s heart swelled with joy. “Me too.”

“Wait,” you said quickly. “How’d you know you were in love with me?”

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, he answered, “While we were dancing at homecoming. You didn’t have a single move in you, but you didn’t wanna be the only one not dancing, so you started doing what you’d learnt in Zumba. It was hilarious—watching you be clueless but still killing it on the dance floor. It made me proud of you, but more than that, it made me realise what I felt for you.” 

“Aw,” you cooed. “That’s really sweet of you, but I definitely knew what I was doing.”

“Let’s not ruin the moment by lying to each other.”

“You’re such a dork!” 

“It’s your turn now!” Sunghoon grinned. “Tell me!”

“Okay, but you have to promise not to judge me,” you warned. “My story is embarrassing.” 

Locking his pinkie with yours, he promised, “I won’t.”

“Remember how you sat with Yeojin at the game?” you asked, to which Sunghoon nodded. “Well, I’d been saving seats for us. I fought a lot of people to keep the seat next to me vacant, but you didn’t even acknowledge me when I called your name. Yeojin caught hold of you, and you went to sit with her without bothering to check if I was around.” Shrugging, you mumbled, “That made me mad and jealous and upset. Not just at her, but at both of you. I’d never been possessive over my friends, and I’d never felt such ugly emotions before. There was only one reasonable explanation.”

Sunghoon’s eyebrows flew up. “Woah. I’m sorry for what I did.”

“Nah, it’s cool. It was loud at the game and I don’t think you heard me.” You laughed and waved him away. “I was being petty. And I know it’s not cute like your story, but that was what made me realise there was a chance I loved you.”

“Cute or not, that was the best story I’ve ever heard,” he said cheekily. “Also, don’t get me wrong—I would love nothing more than have you sit in my lap, but I think we should finish dinner first. Let’s finish what you started once we’re done eating.”

Your eyes widened, and you scrambled away from him. “Right.”

“Wait!” Sunghoon grabbed your wrist before you could get up and go back to the other side of the table. “The asters—what do they signify?” 

You smiled and leaned closer to his face, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. 

“Love.” 

[alwaysurvalentine]

Three Strikes and You're Out! - st fic

This is a follow up to: this - wc: 2.8k - cw: nothing to worry about I think!

enjoy! 💛

Eddie decides to talk to Robin first. He’s not sure what to expect when she swings her front door open and yells over her shoulder to Mrs. Buckley. 

“I’ll be back in a bit, go ahead and eat!” 

And then she’s stomping over to his van and looking at him expectantly from the passenger seat. He almost trips rushing to follow her, but is able to start his car in one piece.

“I was wondering when you were going to come by. Steve mentioned things didn’t go over well the other night.” She says it bluntly and Eddie flinches. He knows the other night could’ve gone better. Like a dog with a bone, he’s been dissecting the other night in great detail. Can’t stop thinking of how frustrated Steve seemed with himself, how the words ‘stupid’ and ‘bullshit’ dripped vitriol from his mouth, and how he let the other boy leave in such a hurry. He taps his hands against the steering wheel softly before answering.

“Yeah. It wasn’t good, Birdie. I really messed up.” Personally, he doesn’t think ‘messed up’ really covers it. He feels like he walked himself right off the edge of a pier into icy waters. Steve hasn’t answered the couple of times he’s called and the only reason why Eddie’s not searching town for him is knowing that Steve has at least been giving the brats rides to the arcade. Hearing his voice on the radio has been enough, but Eddie can’t take the closed off silence he’s getting now. 

“So I’ve heard. Wanna tell me how things went from your perspective?”

He tells her the story once they get to the diner. There’s a plate of fries between them but Eddie just picks at them instead of actually eating. Robin’s blue eyes feel like daggers so he’s been more focused on watching the parking lot than looking at her.

“Like I said, I know I messed up.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Robin speaks up again, words calm.

“Do you even know how you did?”

And Eddie realizes, he doesn’t really. He knows Steve is upset but to be this upset over a D&D game? There’s something more under the surface – that’s why he was drawn to Robin. If anyone is going to know what the root of the problem is, it’s Steve’s own nerdy band soulmate. She has to know why Steve pulled away halfway through the session. Eddie had thought things were going well; Dustin had helped Steve with his character, Jeff let him borrow some of his dice, and Steve had been asking questions. But they all asked questions when they started! Sometimes Gareth even had to double check an action versus the rules during his turns. 

The more Eddie thinks about it though, Steve had only asked a couple questions before Mike had made some comment under his breath. It wasn’t long after that that the ex-jock had said he’d be gone for a quick break but to continue without him. A quick break turned into him not coming back to the table at all and Eddie wrapping up the session early to everyone’s disappointment. After everyone went home is when things went downhill, but he still doesn’t know why it bothered Steve so much.

“Eddie.” Robin’s voice sounds pitying, like she’s sad he wasn’t able to make this connection on his own. “You said it yourself, you can’t be good at everything you try the first time. But this is Steve we’re talking about. He feels like he can’t mess up. If he ever slips up, you know what those kids of his do?”

Eddie does. He knows the kids, especially Mike and Dustin, tend to fixate on Steve’s slip ups. They’re just like siblings in that way, but Steve’s always been an only child. Eddie can imagine that the constant harping probably sits a little heavier on Steve’s shoulder than the kids realize. He pulls his gaze from the window and looks at Robin again. 

Something like regret is crawling up his spine – he helped make a space where Steve felt bad for messing up, and then yelled at him for not trying.

“Oh Birdie, I really messed up. How do I fix this? I just wanted to share this with him. And I know all the kids did too. He’s their glorified big brother, whether he realizes it or not – they just want to have more in common with him.” 

She’s nodding along to his words, plate now empty except for the last dredges of the ketchup she’d put there earlier. “Maybe it’s not so much that they need to share what they like with him, but that you guys need to share what he likes. I may not care about sports as much as he does, but I’ve played on bleachers long enough to follow a game. Sometimes that’s what our hang outs are: he puts on the latest game and I paint my nails or work on patches for my jacket. He’s got his own interests, you know? That’s what makes him who he is – he just goes along with what everyone else likes because no one really likes his stuff except for-”

“Lucas. Robin Buckley, you are a genius.”

~

That’s how Eddie finds himself at the Sinclair’s house a couple hours later. He’d radioed Lucas as soon as he dropped off Robin and was pleasantly surprised to find out he was free that afternoon. Things were rocky between them for a while, with Eddie replacing him with Erica while he played the championship game. Steve had been the one to get Eddie to apologize about it. Made Eddie see how important both games had been to Lucas, how unfair it was to force him to pick one over he other. Especially since one has a coach breathing down the players necks to make sure they’re at every game, unlike the Hellfire Club getting to pick their meeting days and times. Lucas forgave him as soon as he said sorry but Eddie vowed he’d do better in the future about re-scheduling to make sure there weren’t issues. He couldn’t imagine having a show and none of his friends showing up. 

“Hey Eddie! Lucas mentioned you were coming by.” Mrs. Sinclair welcomed him in, gesturing for him to follow her into the kitchen. It was nice to be accepted so easily into their home, he’d worried when meeting all of the party's parents that they would decide he was the hell raiser people claimed him to be without giving him a real chance. Looking back, he should’ve known better – there’s no way his sheep would have parents that weren’t at least a little open minded. 

He follows her to the kitchen and gets hit with a wave of warmth and the smell of brown sugar. Mrs. Sinclair slips on a faded blue oven mitt before pulling a tray of cookies from the oven.

“Are the cookies done yet?” Little Erica comes around the corner and raises an eyebrow at Eddie. “And when did you get here?” 

“Just got here. Your mom just pulled the cookies out, so you’ve got impeccable timing as always Lady Applejack.” He grins down at her when she brightens at the promise of warm cookies. It’s nice to see the kids getting to be kids after everything. 

“Lucas is in the backyard, will you bring him some of these before someone tries to eat them all.” Mrs. Sinclair smiles and nods her head towards Erica, who’s trying to save a cookie from the floor since it’s so warm it’s falling apart. 

Lucas tosses the ball as soon as Eddie steps outside and lets out an excited ‘whoop!’ when it goes into the basket. “Nice one?” Eddiesounds less confident when he says it but he’s also very aware he wouldn’t be able to do the same thing no matter how hard he tried. The smile he gets from Lucas rids him of his nervousness though and he holds out the plate of cookies. 

“I’ve been sent with snacks.” The plate’s taken from his hands quickly, cookie in Lucas’ mouth in seconds. 

“Thanks. So what’d you wanna talk about? Not that I don’t like seeing you, we just don’t usually hang out one on one.” 

Guilt fills Eddie’s stomach, especially since he’s here to ask a favor. But honestly, maybe this is good for him. To learn more about Lucas too. 

“Well. I’m gonna level with you. I need you to teach me about sports.”

~

Sports are much more complicated than Eddie ever gave them credit for. Lucas spent the afternoon going over the different rules for basketball. He’d tried to follow as best he could, and while some stuff stuck, like what exactly a three-pointer was and why dribbling was so important – Eddie knows he’s far from being a sports fan. When Lucas had mentioned that Steve’s favorite had been baseball, he’d hoped to learn some there too. But baseball wasn’t Lucas’ passion so he’d put off that research for later.

Even if he didn’t get all of it, it was nice to see Lucas so excited. He’s seen the kid during campaigns, planning out different attacks with the group, but now he’s kind of excited to see him in action on the court. Kid’s got a good heart and with how strongly he adores the group, Eddie knows the passion has to show when he plays. 

So he leaves with a smile on his face and his heart full. He really is lucky to have these people in his life. 

~

“Uncle Wayne! Just the man I wanted to see!” 

Just like he expected, Eddie walks in to the trailer to see Wayne watching a game on the couch. It’s his day off and usually that means Eddie lets him have the trailer to relax until dinner time and then they eat together. Eddie’s cut into a couple hours of what he likes to call ‘Wayne’s TV Time’ but he knows his uncle won’t mind. 

After toeing off his shoes and hanging his vest, Eddie plops down next to Wayne. The older man jostles with the movement but doesn’t say anything as he turns the TV down. All of a sudden, Eddie is nervous. He knows Wayne won’t judge him for asking, especially once he knows why he needs to know all about baseball. But he also hates admitting he hurt someone, unintentional or not.

“Out with it, Ed.” 

Eddie stops messing with his rings at his uncle’s voice. “I need your help with something.” 

“You know I always have your back, what’s going on?” 

And it all spills out. Trying to play D&D with Steve, the conversation after, his goal to understand Steve more before apologizing properly.

“Sounds like you’re already on track. Whatcha need me for?” 

“Well, I’m so glad you asked. IneedyoutoteachmeallaboutbaseballsothatIcantalktoSteveaboutit.”

“How about you try that while breathing?”

“I need you to teach me about baseball so that I can talk to Steve about it.”

~

Thankfully Wayne has the patience of a saint because Eddie asks him a question nearly every time he goes to explain something.

“How do you know it’s in the strike zone?”

“There’s different ways to throw the ball? And it’s all based off of one guy’s hand code on which one to do?”

“So what you’re saying is that every player has different ability scores that make them better players in different positions?” 

“You can steal bases?”

“How come a run isn’t a point?”

“A top and bottom inning? Kinky. Whose idea was that?” 

~

Wayne’s been asleep for a couple of hours when Eddie hears a soft knock at the trailer door. He’d heard a car pull up a few minutes before but just figured it was one of the neighbors finally getting home. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Steve on his doorstep. 

“Steve?” “Eddie-”

“Come in -” “I just want to say-”

Steve huffs a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners for a second before a small frown overtakes his face. The shadows of the porch make the expression deeper, somber almost.

“Come in for a minute?” He sounds pleading to his own ears, but it doesn’t stop Eddie from backing into the trailer – trusting Steve to follow him to his room. His room is a bit of a mess, clothes on the floor and a couple boxes still left unpacked from when they moved. There’s a a few notebooks laying open on his bed, notes he’d taken today and connections he’s tried to make. He wasn’t quite ready for this talk with Steve but he’s more prepared than he was the other day.

“So, Eddie...I just wanted to say I was sorry.” 

Eddie whips around to face Steve, notebooks now in a stack in his hands. 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

Steve’s brows furrow at Eddie’s words, confusion and indignation filling his eyes. 

“What?”

“Only you would apologize for something that’s not your fault. Unbelievable. Steve, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hut your feelings the other day. I was just so excited for you to be playing with us that I didn’t think about you being nervous about it.” 

The indignation in Steve’s eyes fades and all he’s left with is the eyes of a sad puppy dog. He almost looks lost, shoulders hunched in slightly to make him appear smaller. 

“What does that matter? I still ruined the fun.” Somehow, he makes himself even smaller. Eddie’s stomach turns at the sight. Steve shouldn’t be so practiced in making himself small and Eddie’s going to do everything he can to get him out of that habit.

“No you didn’t. Us being pig-headed ruined the fun. Stop looking at me like that, come here.” His mattress sinks when he sits and he pats the bedding next to him. 

“I mean it, come here. I wanna show you something. It’s what I’ve been working on these couple of days.”

Finally, Steve comes to sit next to him. Unlike so many times before he’s stiff next to Eddie, not letting himself relax. 

“So I’m gonna be honest here. I was really confused when you left the other night. Some of the stuff you said didn’t seem like it was really about me. But that doesn’t matter. You know, why?” 

A shake of his head is the only response Eddie gets.

“Because at the end of the day, we made you feel like you couldn’t ask questions. I made you feel bad too. So I might’ve reached out to a couple of people for help. If it’s one thing that Wayne’s taught me, it’s to apologize. I talked to Buckley first.”

Finally, a small smile from Steve that stays there. 

“She pointed out something I should’ve been able to figure out on my own. We all have our own interests and you always make space for it. But we don’t ever do the same for you.” 

“Ed-”

“Don’t fight me on this. You always let us talk about what we want, you always host for us; you always look out for us. It’s about time more than one of us takes the time to do it for you too. Anyway, so then I talked with the other sports nerds in my life: Lucas and Wayne. And I came up with this!”

Steve hasn’t stopped smiling which is giving Eddie more confidence by the minute. He grabs at the notebooks he moved earlier, flipping back a couple of pages before leaning into Steve’s space. At the top of the page he’s written ‘D&D vs Baseball’. To Steve, the notes probably look crazy. There’s a couple doodles of dice and baseballs around the page and his writing is messy from where he tried connecting the two while laying in his bed.

“What is this?” Gently, Steve takes the notebook from Eddie’s hands, fingers tracing the rough sketch of a baseball field. 

“If you want to give D&D another try, I think I found a better way of describing it.” Eddie’s full on grinning now, knows his dimples are exposed with his happiness. “But, if you never wanna play again I get that too.”

“Eddie.” Only five letters, but Steve still chokes on them slightly. His hazel eyes are filled with tears and the smile drops from Eddie’s face.

“Wait – no, I didn’t mean to make you cry! Was this a bad idea?” He goes to take the notebook back but Steve tightens his grip. Honey eyes lock with Eddie’s even as a tear falls. 

“No, this is so nice.” Steve looks at the notes again and brushes at the tears on his cheeks. “I don’t know what all these notes mean, but it looks like you might be on to something.” 

Steve smiles at Eddie and sets the notebook to the side. And then Eddie’s being hugged. Steve can’t be comfortable, twisted and leaning like he is – but Eddie hugs back anyway. Wraps his arms around Steve and rests a gentle hand on the back of Steve’s head where he’s tucked into Eddie’s neck. Steve squeezes around his middle once and then backs up, tears no longer falling but his smile remaining. 

“Think you can try and explain these notes to me?”

Wanted to tag: @adverbally , @ravenfrog , and @blossomingblueberries. Thanks for your support/interest in another part! I hope this did it justice! 💛

Now officially with a third part! pt. 3

[poppadom0912]

Excuses

Warnings: Mentions of fainting, diabetes, canon-typical injuries

Summary: You suffer the consequences just because your teacher thought you were making excuses.

A/N: First fic of 2024!!! I had plans that I was going to post weekly in the new year just like last year but things went downhill. This january and february has had its very good but also really bad moments and even writing this was a struggle. I've found myself in a weird place of wanting to write but struggling and all of a sudden not being able to balance my schoolwork and writing. So I took a lil step back to solely focus on my work but looking at everything now, my fic updates will be much less frequent but hopefully just as or if not, more fun to read.

I feel bad for not saying or posting anything since the new year but I'm here now and hopefully will be more alive. I've got lots planned for you beautiful people, several series and way too many fics in my drafts that I cannot wait for you all to read. This wasn't as long or as juicy as I intended but my brain completely failed me so I hope this is good enough. I initially wanted to post this at the beginning of March but I finished the final editing today so here you go!!

Final note before we start, I have general knowledge about diabetes but that's all from my grandma. I have no idea if it's the same for teenagers so I'm sorry for any mistakes. Happy reading!!

Your biology teacher had been on maternity for three weeks now and you were seriously contemplating life.

Because of the crappy rules surrounding maternity leave, when your teacher refused to return before her three months ended, your school had a supply teacher fill in for her till she came back.

Since day one, you knew you hated her.

It was mid lesson and you knew as soon as you started feeling sluggish that your sugar levels were dropping. Your thoughts were only confirmed when your Dexcom receiver let you know of your decreasing glucose.

This wasn't a usual occurrence. Will and Jay always made sure you had eaten enough and you had the means to maintain the needed glucose levels so that nothing happened.

Alas, you were up late revising and you were stressing about keeping up your good grades. Jay was rushing you out the door because he needed to go to a scene he'd just been called to and Will was out walking Kol and hadn't seen you leave.

In conclusion, it'd been a hot minute since you last ate something.

The school were well aware of your diabetes. It was one of the very important things your brothers stressed them about when you first started.

Most students knew about it actually, having seen your Dexcom and not understanding since a diabetic child apparently wasn't common according to them.

So, when you randomly pulled out a snack from your bag mid class, no one questioned it and instead would make sure you were okay. There'd never been a problem before in school and everyone wanted it to stay that way.

However, this new teacher, Mrs Byrne was apparently completely unaware of your medical condition.

"Y/N. You know the rules about eating in class." She said strictly, pulling away all the attention from the board onto you.

She stopped you in the middle of opening the packet of fruit gummies. You frowned, looking at her confused along with your classmates.

"I have diabetes." You said bluntly, continuing to open the packet. "I don't eat this and I'll pass out."

Mrs Byrne only rolled her eyes, smiling at you condescendingly. "I've heard that excuse hundreds of times, give those to me."

You scoffed at the audacity, refusing to hand over what was yours.

It was when she started walking towards your desk with a pep in her step that the entire class got involved. Their raised voices overlapped, some angrier than others over what was happening.

However, you too were Stubborn alike to your brothers so you kept as firm of a grip of the packet. You turned a blind eye to the anger fuelled cover teacher. You continued to smile as she spewed threats of all sorts.

Due to your frustration and annoyance over the teacher who wanted to take your gummies away, you didn't notice how everything started change; how hard it was to move your eyes and lips, your limbs getting heavier and you thoughts slowly getting muddled up.

Lost in a daze, you were no longer able to fight back when she pulled harder, successfully snatching the small packet out of your hands. It was now that the class got furious, your friends were already up and at your side but now they were verbally attacking the teacher.

Fed up with her petty behaviour, you were going to get up and go to the nurses office who would take care of you but getting out your seat was harder said than done.

With one of your friends help, you weren't too sure who was helping you from your hazy sight that cleared when you blinked too many times.

You were wobbly on your feet, taking slow and hesitant steps towards the front of the classroom but before you could leave, you felt your legs give out and everything went black.

*****

It turned out that supposed crime scene that he was imminently needed at was nothing but a prank by a bunch of college boys resulting in a grumpy Hank putting them in cuffs and having them fined for a very reasonable reason.

That's how the rest of the unit found themselves finishing up paperwork, catching up about life in general as they debated what they were getting for lunch.

Jay was smugly sitting back, eyes flickering between Kevin and Adam who were bickering over something trivial when his phone rung, catching everyone's attention.

They were all so bored and normally when one of their phones went off during work hours, it meant something came up and they were needed.

In interest, everyone turned their heads towards Jay and waited for him to tell them they got a crime scene.

Picking up his phone, Jay's brows furrowed at the number, confused as to why your school was calling him in the middle of the day. They'd only call him if two things happened: You'd gotten in trouble or you got hurt.

"Hello. Is this Y/N Halsteads brother Jay?" A voice he couldn't recognised asked, most likely some lady from the main office.

"Yeah, that's me." Jay confirmed, sitting up in preparation for whatever he was going to be told.

"So sorry to interrupt you sir but Y/N collapsed in class." The lady said with guilt laced in her words. "Your other brother didn't pick up the phone. We called to let you know we had to call the paramedics and they've taken her to Chicago Med."

"Uh yeah." Jay said, collecting his jacket and keys. "Yes, thank you."

Not waiting for a reply, Jay hung up and quickly knocked on Hank's office door frame.

"Sarge, I gotta get Y/N-"

"Go get her. We're done here."

*****

Wanting to pull his hair out, Will rubbed his eyes in frustration, glaring at his patients scans that only confused him further. He was tired and was coming to half way through his twenty four hour shift.

"Dr Halstead- Uh, Dr Rhodes in T4." Maggie stumbled, looking down at her brick and making sure she read it correctly.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, confused as to why Maggie changed her mind which she usually never did.

"It's Y/N."

Now fully awake, Will followed Connor towards the ambulance bay where you were being rolled in. You were groggily sitting up on the stretcher, you hair a mess and a few scratches around your face and hands from when you fell.

"Sylvie, what happened?" Will asked the blonde paramedic while looking you over. He desperately wanted to check you over himself but let Connor do his thing. He really did not need Ms Goodwin on his case today.

"Teachers didn't tell us much but her classmates said she collapsed after not being able to eat." Sylvie relayed the minimal information she knew, shrugging her shoulders when the two doctors looked at her weirdly. "No one would tell us anything more."

"Y/N, it's Connor. Can you hear me kid?" Connor said while pulling out his penlight. He was like another brother to you, his concern just as high. "Can you tell me what happened?"

You groaned, mumbling nonsense with your eyes screwed closed. Your words were mostly unintelligible but Will understood them mere seconds later.

Fixing the problem you complained about, Will turned down the lights and let Connor continue fussing over you.

It didn't take long to find out the cause of your collapse, Will sighing at the news when he read the numbers from your tests.

"I thought she was always on top of her sugar levels." Connor said, closing the room door so you could sleep in peace.

And what he said was completely true but they weren't aware of why you couldn't today specifically of all days.

"She is." Will said, rubbing a hand down his face in frustration. "Maybe her dexcom malfunctioned or something."

Connor hummed, agreeing with his friend.

"Hmm, maybe."

*****

Arriving at Med, Will gave Jay a detailed rundown of everything he new about your medical state but also the events pre your hospital arrival.

Getting a good look at you, holding your hand in his and kissing you on your forehead, Jay was more than happy to leave you in your oldest brothers safe hands while he got to the bottom of this entire ordeal.

He noticed Sylvie was still at Med, Foster mentioning they were running low on a few supplies so they needed some stocking up. Jay took this opportunity to interview the two paramedics and try to get further understanding on this situation that wasn't making much sense to him.

Arriving at your school, Jay had some thoughts in mind but they weren't very concrete and his confidence wasn't as strong as he'd like it to be.

Walking into the school, Jay immediately noticed an entire class sitting and standing around in the corridor waiting in front of the principals office.

One of the girls who had been sitting in a chair had caught sight of Jay, her eyes widening before she smiled, gently nudging the girl next to her and pointing in his direction. The girls reaction was the exact same.

This created a sort of domino effect as the boy next to her noticed Jay and everyone was telling the other of his sudden arrival. The once silent corridor was now beginning to fill with murmurs and whispers, all their eyes glued onto his figure that moved down the corridor, their shocked faces quickly changing into smiles and smirks.

It seems that Jay had a reputation of sorts.

"Why are you making so much noise? What did I just say about talking-"

The principal cut himself off from his scolding when he suddenly noticed Jay's presence, his face blanching as all the pieces clicked into place.

"Detective Halstead! What a surprise, we weren't expecting to see you so soon-"

This time Jay cut him off, not too bothered about his lack manners. "My brothers with Y/N at the hospital so I thought there was no other perfect time."

The principal remained silent.

"Now, why don't you explain to me why my sister fainted under your watch?"

The students behind Jay couldn't help but snicker knowingly.

[victorbutnotreally]

ACADEMIC VALIDATION - LEE MINHO X MALE READER

A/N: i'm back!! heavily inspired by myself. to all the people struggling with their studies, you got this! your grades only define a part of you, a part of you that can be molded however you want.

warnings: thunderstorms, mental breakdown, mentions of dying, unrealistic expectations from parents, min's parents are horrible in this.

"You have so much potential, Minho! Where's that little boy who's always eager to learn, huh?? You got an A in maths instead of your usual A*. I can't believe this!!"

"Mom, let me-"

"No!! You're in university, for god's sake! Pull yourself together! Stop hanging out with your friends and you better study, young man-"

"I-"

"Or do you not want to achieve anything? Do you want to be stuck somewhere with part time jobs, barely making a living??"

An A is still a good grade, Mom! he wanted to say, but he didn't dare to. He wanted to scream and shout and defend himself, but he wasn't allowed to. The words were just fading echoes in his ears till the sound of the call ending snapped him back to reality.

His parents see his mistakes, but only that. It wasn't an easy exam, and only one person got an A*. But of course, his parents wouldn't understand that, because he used to get full marks for everything without even studying as a child. And even now, he's mostly relying on his memory and math skills. He doesn't know how to study. Why would you know how to study when you're "gifted"? God, he hated that term. He would beam with pride when he got called that till middle school. Things started going downhill in high school, but he picked it up somehow. Mostly to compete with Mn. And now, in one of the most prestigious universities in the world, he was doing well. Very well, actually. But his parents won't understand. Why would they, when their son is "gifted"?

Sobs wracked his body as he threw his phone onto the bed and slid down against the wall. He wished the wall had arms to hold him, since his parents never did. He wished his wall would come to life, talk to him, kiss his hair and wipe his tears away. He sat with his legs to his chest and his arms on his knees, but that wasn't comforting enough. He curled up into a fetal position on the ground as he sobbed. He didn't have friends. He was always alone growing up, and he was fine, since life wasn't so cruel back then. His comfort was being alone, but he wants to be held right now.

He pulls himself up somehow, going to the bathroom to wash his face. He had an image to maintain. The thunder seemed to rattle the windows and the lightning struck. On any other day, he would've admired thunderstorms, but the sounds and the light overwhelmed him at the moment. He opened the door to his dorm room and walked down the hallway. Mn. The only one who got an A* in the maths test. He wanted Mn. Sure, they wouldn't exactly be termed as 'friends', but he's the closest thing Minho has to one.

Mn heard the knock on his door and wondered who it was at this time of the night. It was 1:03. He went up to the door and and looked through the peephole. Minho? He opened the door, and before he could say anything, Minho threw himself into his arms.

"Min-"

The moment he felt those strong arms wrap around him, Minho lost control. He clung onto Mn like a lifeline, burying his face in the crook of his neck. His sobs echoed in the quiet room, his body shaking from the force of his emotions. And to Mn, the sound of his sobs seemed to pierce him deeper than the lightning. He buried his face into Mn's shirt, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He's never cried like this before, but something about seeing his calm, collected expression makes the floodgates open. The last time he broke down like this was…well, he didn't remember.

"I-I'm sorry," he chokes out between hiccups, voice muffled against Mn's chest. He's too embarrassed to meet those piercing eyes, but at the same time, he craves his warmth and stability. "Just needed someone…"

He takes a deep breath, trying to regain some composure. When he finally looks up, his dark eyes are puffy and red, and filled with vulnerability rare of him. "Please don't think less of me, Mn."

Mn's expression softened, his hand went up from Minho's back to his face, wiping away his tears.

"Of course not…not for this. Come inside," he says, pulling Minho inside the room once he realized they were still in the doorway. The door clicks shut behind them, loud thunder accompanying the sharp sound.

"What happened, Minho?"

The soft gaze, the gentle tone of someone who's supposed to be his rival, opened the floodgates once more. Years worth of bottled up emotions came out at once as he broke down in his rival's arms. Mn could do nothing but rub his back and hold him close. Minho didn't need anything else. He just wanted to be held. Minho's arms squeezed him tighter as his sobs grew louder. He buried his face in his chest so deep as if he wanted to be lodged in his ribcage, right next to his heart.

"They- they think I'm so smart…I'm not…I'm not smart or anything.."

More sobs.

"I can't do this anymore, Mn, I can't…I'll die at this rate. I just wanna disappear and stop worrying about all this."

"Oh, Minho.." Mn felt a strange protectiveness over the boy nestled so comfortably in his arms. His heart felt warm knowing that Minho came to him out of all people, but at the same time, he felt sad, knowing that Minho didn't really have anyone else.

"What if I don't get a job? What if adulting is harder than I thought? What if…what if I don't graduate?"

The last question was followed by hysterical sobs. If it weren't for the thunderstorm, Mn was sure he would've woken up the whole floor with his cries.

"I-I c-can't do this anymore, Mnie…I can't..p-please.."

"Okay..okay..we'll take a break for a while, yeah?"

"C-Can't…have to..study..I have to-"

"Minho."

Minho looked up from Mn's chest, eyes teary and red.

"How long has it been since you slept?"

"I- I don't know, Mn.." He said Mn's name with such softness, such…vulnerability.

Mn reached to wipe away Minho's tears and reached out to grab some tissues for him.

"Here."

Minho shakily took the tissues, mumbling a small 'thank you' as he wiped his face. He slowly got up, his feet somehow being able to carry his weight now as he went to the bathroom and washed his face. He came out of the bathroom to see Mn making tea.

"Y-You don't have to," Minho said, his voice sore and shaky from all the crying.

"Sit down, Min. Talk to me, okay?"

He obediently sat down, quite unusual for him. But right now, he just wants to hand everything to someone else. And he didn't think he'd be so open with Mn.

"I just..I got an A instead of an A*. I wasn't disappointed with it because it was a super tough exam, but my mom called and said a lot of things. Like I'm wasting my potential. I didn't hear the rest, I was so tired. Don't…pity me. Please."

"I won't. I don't. And you're not wasting your potential, okay?," Mn started, handing Minho a cup of tea. "You're one of the best students here. And one slight drop in your grade doesn't make you stupid. Besides, A is such a good grade."

Minho sips his tea, the warmth of the teacup a comfort to his cold hands. He listened intently to Mn's words, as if memorising them. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, a small smile finding its way to his lips.

"You're good enough. I'm proud of you."

"You're good enough." The words rang in Minho's head, louder than the thunderstorm outside. He felt safe. He felt like he could admire it again. He sets down the teacup and hugged him again, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

"Thank you."

taglist:

@forever-atiny

[xan-izme]

Double Life 7 (ATSV x reader x Batfam)

Summary: An unwilling partnership is formed between reader and Redhood. Damian wants to know more about his half-sister. And visits New York to seek answers there is only one problem, his father decides to come along.

part 6, part 8

You're in deep shit now. The whole time Jason was at the mansion, he had been eyeing you and giving you dirty looks every moment you spoke. You would glare back.

it was clear to others that you and Jason, were not fond of each other. But no one spoke up about it. Bruce would give Jason a stern look to stop and give you a gentle pat on the back.

And what's worse, Jason brought it onto himself to stay at the mansion to get to know the new member of the family a little better.

You were in your room. Thinking on this whole day and how everything just had to go downhill the moment you got back into action.

You were currently staring at the silver case you got earlier that was on your desk.

Alchemax . . .

You let out a deep sigh and sat on your bed. You felt a small headache come in as you thought about how you were going to get through this. You had to talk to Jason. And get things settled. Make a deal or something.

Suddenly you hear a knock at your door. You quickly hide the case. "Who is it?"

"It's me, you little thief." The voice on the other side of the door was clearly Jason. You frown and march over to the door and opened it. "Jason. . ."

Jason had a smug smirk on his face as you pushed through you to enter your room. "Where's the case." Jason stood by your bed and scanned your room. Taking in the art and pictures. The boombox and vinyl was pretty odd to see.

"Don't know what you're talking about." You let out a small sigh as you crossed your arms and leaned against your door frame. Jason glares at you and went over to your door and closed it shut.

"You know damn well what I mean." He got all up in your face as he had his finger pointed at your chest.

Your frown deepened as you glared back, glancing to his finger and back up to him. Making it clear, you don't like how close he is.

Jason calmed down a little and put distance between you two. "Look, we got off the wrong foot. . . I know your true identity, and you know mine." Jason spoke slowly, making hand movements and keeping eye contact. As if he was speaking to a toddler.

"Let's talk."

You were actually satisfied with this. But you have a feeling you should still be cautious with this one.

"Talk about what?" You leaned off the wall, still keeping your eyes on him.

Jason stayed silent and crossed his own arms. "A deal. You have something I want, I have something you want."

Your eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you have, I would want?"

Jason smirked "Your identity. You know, you're in a different city now, Spider-woman. There's a bigger vigilante out there, that would either put you down, or force you to join him. I have a feeling you don't want both."

You had to process for a second to understand who Jason was talking about, then you realized it. "Batman." You had completely forgotten about the famous batman. So focused on your own personal life. You had taken a risk to go out without thinking you'd run into Batman who has been in the game for years.

"Yup, so. How about we work together for now. Whatever is in the case, seems important. I don't want the old bats to find out about this either, so let's just play nice together and get this over with. I'll keep my mouth shut if you do the same, deal?" Jason extended his hand for a handshake.

You took a moment to think. And after what Jason had said, you realized, you possible have more to lose. You needed this deal more than him.

"Deal." You shook his hand to seal it all.

You let out a small yawn as you exit your room. About to leave for school. Your met with Damian waiting outside of your room, as usual. "Morning, cupcake." You spoke in a joking way. Damian frowns "Don't call me that- your shoes untied." He seemed bothered by your untied shoe.

"I know. It's a choice." You say with a shrug as he followed you down the stairs. Once you and Damian are downstairs, Alfred has already prepared breakfast.

"Morning Alfred smells and looks amazing, per usual." You had a nice smile on for the butler. You truly are grateful for Alfred. He just feels like a person you should respect. He does so much in this big mansion.

"Lady Y/n. Your usual f/f and Coffee-" Alfred paused as he noticed your coffee, he set down was no longer there. "Odd, your coffee." He mumbled a little confused.

Before you could say it was okay for now, Jason came out of nowhere.

"Oh, sorry was the coffee yours?"

Everyone looks over to see Jason, with your coffee mug.

Damian was quick to scold the older about taking your cup of coffee. You deadpan at the whole situation. Jason just smiled and gave you a half ass apology.

"Oops, my bad kiddo.'' Jason ruffled your head and set your empty mug in front of you.

"I'll make you another cup-" Before Alfred could even attempt to take the mug. You shook your head. "It's aight." You just ate your food and dragged Damian to the limo with you. Of course, you didn't leave without catching Jason giving you a mocking smirk.

You and Jason might be teamed up for the moment, but it doesn't mean you two are going to be the best of friends.

Damian has been doing more deep searching on you for a few days now. Trying to take everything in and find out what you're hiding. He hasn't found anything about this Miguel. In fact, no one in your life that he had searched on the Inernet mentions any Miguel.

What's gotten Damian a little more interested, and suspicious is your school records. Before your mother's death, you seemed to have been determined to go into a privet school in Brooklyn. Both you and your cousin seemed to be determined to enroll in the same privet school.

But why this specific school? there were other privet schools more fit for you and your cousin. Closer to New York. So why did you and your cousin pick Alchemax Academy?

"Y/n?" Damian spoke as he stared up at you, you and he were just sitting the bleachers during lunch.

"Hm?" You were still focusing what you had on your laptop, probably one of your assignments.

"That party you're going to for your uncle's promotion, can I come with you?"

You paused and looked over to Damian. Your surprised from this request, but you smiled down at him softly. "Of course, sweets." You pat his head and go back to working on your laptop.

He knows you won't tell him much, and you're not exactly an open book, nor are you easy to read. So, he should get some more info on you a little more on the deeper level if he visits your family.

You were excited to be back in New York again. And see Uncle Jeff and Miles. You missed them so much.

"Okay, let me go over the rules." You were about to explain the rules with Damian. So he makes a good impression on your uncle and aunt. Well, mainly Tia Rio. He's your half brother, and you want to make sure he won't fully mess up.

"Never call the adult by their first names, unless they insist. No talk back, like you usually do. If they offer you more food even when your full, don't refuse, you have no choice in the mater. And please, please don't go into the house with your shoes on. Okay?" You gave Damian a small smile of the basic rules.

"I see. . . may I ask who will be at this party?" He wants to know who his first target should be for conversation. Who he could pull more information from.

"Well, my cousin, aunts and uncles. A few family friends. Nothing too big." You had your back faced to Damian as you were fishing out some clothes that were nice and casual but still nice for the event.

Suddenly, a knock is heard at the door. "Can you get that for me Cupcake?"

Damian frowns as he gave you a glare, you were unbothered by it of course. "I told you to stop calling me that." He crossed his arms a he got off your bed and approached the door to open it up. He's met with the sight of Alfred and Bruce.

"Father." Damian raised a brow, showing his confusion as to why he was at your door. Bruce gave him the same look, wondering why he was even in your room.

"Damian, is Y/n here? What are you doing in her room?" Bruce asked as he attempted to peek into the room. But you heard his voice, and you walked up behind Damian with a greeting smile.

"He's getting ready with me. I'm bringing him along today."

"Oh?" Bruce was shocked to hear this, knowing Damian isn't the type to go to these kinds of things.

"Yup!" You ruffled Damian's hair. Bruce and Alfred couldn't help but soften at how the two of you have gotten along so well.

"Y/n, I was planning on coming along with you. If you don't mind."

You smiled at Bruces offer. "Of course, the more the merrier. Right Cupcake?" You smiled down at Damian, who did not like this idea at all.

[mc-lukanette]

Flip the Transcripts

Marinette sighed, pulling her hair tie free and shaking her head to let her bun go. It was a terrible, exhausting day, and she lingered around the main area of the building to take a breather while people filed out. There was still a faint scent of macarons in the air from all the ones she'd dropped on the floor and a (probably underpaid) worker was busy cleaning them up.

She'd gotten to sit next to Adrien during the movie, but she didn't actually feel accomplished about it. Her mind was still racing with thoughts of why she even bothered. It was high effort for little actual reward, and it felt embarrassing more than anything else.

Why did she do it anyway? There was always a weird correlation with everything going wrong for her on days when akuma happened, even if the akuma didn't directly cause it. Maybe she had a sixth sense for it and it made her stress out more?

So weird, she thought, idly running her fingers through her hair with one hand and dusting off her maid outfit with the other. In retrospect, that too was a weird choice; more "trying to catch the sight of a guy with certain interests" than "dressing for the occasion."

As she was mulling her own choices over to herself, a flash of white from the corner of her vision caught her attention. She looked over, seeing a large stack of papers near the entrance of the building as well as Thomas Astruc turning on the other side of the door to continue down the sidewalk. With a little urgency, she headed over to pick up the papers in both arms, noting that they appeared to be transcripts for something.

Her eyes zeroed in on the name Thomas Astruc and she hurried out, looking the way he'd gone as she called out to him.

Yet, he was nowhere to be found. Puzzled, Marinette looked back down, shuffling through the transcripts mindlessly.

Adrien probably knows him since he was in the movie, she thought. I can ask him to give them back—

She stopped before she'd finished the plan in her head, caught off-guard by how she'd wondered about Adrien so casually without having some crush-induced freak out in public. The day was just getting weirder by the second, and it became even more so when she took a better look at the transcripts in her hand.

It seemed obvious initially that it would've been the transcripts for the movie, or maybe a potential sequel, yet they were for a TV show called Miraculous Ladybug. She'd never heard of such a thing and found it even stranger that Thomas Astruc was listed as a writer, not a director.

Curiosity gnawed at her as she fidgeted with the pages. A little peek wouldn't hurt, right?

—————

Having dismissed Tikki after getting a scolding of looking into things she wasn't supposed to, Marinette dropped the transcripts onto her table and began to sort through them. It was perhaps petty to look into an unreleased series like this, but considering what happened with the movie and all the mutterings she heard from people who "didn't know Ladybug was afraid of cats," she would prefer to get ahead of whatever nonsense was going to be released in the future.

The transcripts were already in order of episode, so she started at the top, flipping the page to start reading.

It all went downhill from there.

It appeared innocent enough at the start, following akuma who already existed whose civilian selves may have given interviews on being akumatized, but the first double take of many began when Marinette saw her own name in the transcript. That may have been fine on its own, yet this Marinette lived where she lived, in a bakery with her parents Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng.

She swallowed, her hands crinkling the paper from their tight grip. Whoever wrote this knew that she had been Ladybug and somehow got down the events of the written days with precise accuracy. Was she being stalked somehow? How did they know all about her, and was this planned to be released to the public?

Despite her stomach churning at the implications, she continued reading.

—————

It was late into the night, Tikki already sound asleep up on Marinette's bed, when Marinette had decided to stop reading for the day. She pinched the bridge of her nose, exhausted yet wide awake at the same time.

Everything in the transcripts lined up with her memories and filled in gaps where she previously had nothing to work with. Written down when she'd transformed, what she'd done, who her friends were and what they did with her, and beyond that were things she'd either suspected or not known at all.

Adrien was Chat Noir, Gabriel was Hawk Moth, and it all made sense when put into a format like this.

It didn't appear like someone who knew too much had put pen to paper anymore. Rather, it felt like something written before it even happened: fate sitting behind a desk and planning out what was to be. There were even "episodes" of events that hadn't happened yet that Marinette felt could only be a matter of time.

She raked her fingers through her hair, clutching the strands tight as she tried to make sense of it all. Did it mean that she was just part of some show? Was she a character mindlessly following these scripts? How much was her and how far did her relationships with others go past what was written down for them to have?

Her mind spun, the chair underneath her feeling like it could collapse at any moment. Blood going cold, goosebumps formed along her arms as she looked around to see if she was being watched.

Everything added up and put into perspective things she'd never thought about before. All of the little inconsistencies that she hadn't given a single thought to were now staring at her right in the face, like the very fabric of the universe was broken and everyone went on like nothing was wrong.

And it was Chat Noir who caused Theo's akumatization, but he never told her and she was left in the dark. He'd planned in advance to ditch the search for Andre's ice cream to go set up the "date" with Ladybug that he passed off like it wasn't a big deal.

There was also Alya, who knew very well that she'd been willing to let Kagami be with Adrien when she'd agree to third wheel at the ice skating rink, only to then claim that she was jealous of Lila because of Adrien. Adding to that was Chloe, who Marinette herself was told to "be the bigger person for" and broke the identity rule for just to make her bully of multiple years Queen Bee again, which sounded reasonable at the time but crazy actually reading it.

Finally, there were her failures to get Adrien's attention and the inability to confess to him, whether to be rejected or otherwise, while Chat Noir skated by due to conveniently confessing his crush on Ladybug to Ladybug's civilian self. Why?

Because she was the punchline. She was constantly being set up to fail. The insane scenarios she was always roped into were the forces behind these transcripts twisting themselves into knots to ensure that she would be little more than a joke.

Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. Who could she even trust if everything involving them was made up in such convoluted fashion?

Furiously wiping at the tears, she decided on the only thing she could: she would test the transcripts and go from there. She could go off script, do things it didn't expect, and try to prevent what was predetermined. Clutching the papers to her chest, they were wrinkled with resolve rather than fear this time.

If it wasn't fate that put these in her hands, then maybe she could still do something. With these, she had power, she had control. More importantly, she could have an ally; someone she trusted, but often went ignored by the transcripts and thus was the least affected by them.

Setting the transcripts off to the side, she retrieved her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Most of her friends were dismissed almost immediately, having been around since the start of the series, and she couldn't trust Tikki either. After all, if there was any mouthpiece for the forces behind the transcripts - the "writers," she supposed - it was her.

Her thumb stopped skimming when she saw the black and blue hair: Juleka's brother, Luka, who she'd shared numbers with when she invited him out to the ice rink just in case plans changed. It was a reasonable concern at the time because of how often Adrien had to bail, but of course he was able to show up when it was written that she would make a fool out of herself in front of him, the one consistency throughout the entire series.

But Luka, he'd only been around starting in season 2 of the "show" and appeared prominently in a couple episodes at best. It made even more sense when she thought about that day at the ice rink, the akuma having conveniently started to attack while she was trying to sort out her feelings on him.

The show wanted him there, but didn't want her to think about him.

A burst of confidence snaked its way through her anxiety as she opened their messages to each other. Casting a glance at the transcripts, she thought, I don't have to play your game anymore.

Thus, she typed out a quick message to him.

Hey, are you free in a couple weeks for a meet up? Just the two of us? It's really important.

After hitting 'Send,' she brought the phone up to cover her mouth and attempted to take a steady breath through her nose. Two weeks was plenty of time to test the waters of what she'd seen, and anything else could be planned out after she met with him.

She could handle this. She wasn't the failure she was written as; she didn't have to be.

—————

Marinette had heard before about people so close that they could predict what the other would say. Others could be so in sync that they'd say things at the same time, even without trying.

It was an entirely different matter when she already knew what someone was going to say, not because she was close to them but because she'd read it before.

Three episodes - though it was strange to call them that - happened in the weeks leading up to seeing Luka: Bakerix, Backwarder, and Reflekdoll. The former came first and was the most unnerving of them all, being the one that put the transcripts set in the future to the test.

So long as Marinette followed the transcript, every line went exactly as intended. Her parents and grandmother spoke as if they had read it themselves, like actors in a play they weren't aware they were in. Even when Marinette didn't follow the script, she could feel the words trying to come up through her throat like an itching sensation before a cough.

Or, more accurately, bile building just before throwing up.

Almost unintentionally, she took a passive role by not going to see her grandfather, freshly disillusioned by the events and what they could mean for the people she knew and interacted with. He was, however, still akumatized, though without any action on her part. She didn't ask him why, already having the information she wanted most: that the world still tried to follow the transcript even if she fought it. It was proven further when her family saw the news, somehow recognizing the akuma as their relative, and rushed to see him when he was deakumatized.

They worked everything out from there, which on the surface sounded nice, yet Marinette was disturbed by the idea that it might've only happened because he was written into her future, likely for her own humiliation at some point.

At the very least, the world continued turning whenever she went off script as she'd planned. Her worst case scenario had been that everything would break apart or she would be unable to go against what was written.

She had little choice but to take action the day that Marianne was meant to be akumatized; Adrien was going away for a time and Master Fu had no one else to trust in delivering his letter to her.

According to the transcript, she would be humiliated in front of her friends after mixing up the letters, and Marianne would be akumatized when she too was given the wrong letter. With her thoughts dripping with sarcasm, Marinette supposed that was "her own fault" for expecting a magical yoyo to offer what she'd asked for when she reached inside. She could even imagine Thomas Astruc's face along other, faceless writers, hitting their desks laughing as they wrote down Adrien handing her constipation medicine.

Still, the solution was simple: she confirmed that it was Marianne's letter before handing it over. She could've given Adrien her own love letter as well, but had avoided him as much as possible since finding the transcripts. Her nature of spitting out word salad was there when they did see each other, yet became more manageable the more she refused to engage with him.

Him being Chat Noir made it all a bit easier. While she'd been sympathetic of his woes in being told nothing, the knowledge that he'd kept quiet about the grimoire while complaining to her about secrets and threatened to quit while Paris was underwater was, needless to say, quite the turn off.

Even when they weren't set to follow a plot, he was still as flirtatious as ever despite her rejection of his advances. It made sense as, though she may have hoped otherwise, she couldn't say she was a different person even after reading the transcripts; only one more aware of the world around her.

Juleka getting akumatized into Reflekdoll was something Marinette worked hard to prevent. Whether or not their friendship was "written to be," she still cared about people she felt close to and could relate to Juleka's anxiety.

Alya, of course, tried her hardest to fight back against her efforts to exclude Adrien, all with mixed results. Adrien still came along in the end, but Marinette managed to keep the photoshoot about Juleka, even if that meant ditching the group for a while to hide in the bathroom and talk her down from a potential panic attack.

Juleka taking the full spotlight was something she worked hard for, as not only would she not have wanted to ride off of Adrien's image to give her website any attention, but the idea that he would certainly have overshadowed Juleka in the eyes of the public disgusted her. She didn't need him, no matter how the forces "in charge" tried to convince her otherwise.

All in all, it was crisis successfully averted, and now she'd had multiple separate experiences to come to a few conclusions about the nature of her world.

The first was the obvious: that events were preventable, which was a relief given what she'd read about the season 3 finale. Sometimes things such as akumatization could still happen, but her actions as someone with knowledge of "the future" could reign in the worst of it.

Secondly, those around her could not stray from the transcript unless they were forced to by her or the changes she made, almost falling into loops of trying to make something occur unless they couldn't anymore. It was unnerving, seeing the double-edged sword of the power she held, but it was workable.

Thirdly, and perhaps even more important than the first, was that people could still be people. They acted similarly to what she might expect off script, but not always in a way that was bad. Juleka, for example, didn't blame her for anything that went wrong during the photoshoot as she had - rather nonsensically - in the transcript.

Marinette saw nothing less than her friend. She could still care about people without a nagging voice in her head telling her that it wasn't "real" or that she didn't actually mean anything to anyone. In the ideal scenario that came from everything she'd learned so far, there was a light to be found at the end of the tunnel: either the show's plot would end, or she would change it so drastically that no one could follow it any more.

Thinking back on it all, she let herself feel hope at the memory of Juleka's grateful smile, the light shining off the hair clip Luka had given her in just the right way.

It also gave her an idea.

—————

Marinette sat quietly on her chaise lounge as Luka pulled off his guitar case and settled it to the side of her room, so gently that she couldn't hear the sound of the case against the wall. She'd had two full weeks to process the transcripts and what they meant for her life, but it didn't mean that she wasn't still on edge when she thought about it.

It was one thing to have been given the knowledge herself. She was the one who picked up the transcripts, she chose to sit down and read them, and she continued looking into it even while knowing how stressful it would be.

It was an entirely different matter to inflict that on someone else. A few times, she'd debated with herself on excuses she could've made for their meeting in case she felt like backing out, but dismissed all of them in the end. She wondered how she could tell a person something so profoundly life-altering and how that would affect them emotionally, or if they'd even want to be told.

But how would one gauge that? Marinette could only use herself as a reference, knowing that she, at least, would want to know. The unknowns that revealed themselves to her throughout the experience - the things that were intentionally kept from her, Hawk Moth's identity, the future itself - had been nothing but beneficial to her, despite the horrors that came with them.

She wanted to share that; to know that she wasn't alone. She wanted—

"Marinette?"

She looked up, catching Luka's concern at what must've been a heavy expression on her face. She shook the thoughts away, offering him a gentle smile that she hoped conveyed, 'I'm glad you're here.'

"Juleka had so much fun at the photoshoot," she said, evading the topic of the current atmosphere. "It was sweet of you to put that hair clip on her. I bet it made her feel more confident."

His brows were still furrowed in worry, but he let it be for now and smiled back at her. "Thanks." He gestured at the spot next to her in a silent question and she accepted, shuffling to the side just enough to give him a comfortable amount of room to sit down. His weight sank into the cushion as he wondered aloud, "Did Jule tell you? She doesn't talk about me that much."

He stated it casually, clearly unbothered and of the opinion that Juleka wasn't obligated to talk about him in either a positive nor negative way. Marinette didn't say anything on it, but thought that of course Juleka didn't talk about him much, because how odd would it have been for someone's brother to just appear a whole season later and not be mentioned otherwise? Did he even exist before the day they met?

That was one thing she actively tried not to think about, having been too afraid to look up her grandfather's address before his mention in the transcripts. There was only so much she could take without imagining that Luka only came into existence a while ago.

Despite knowing that his question had, in all likelihood, been rhetorical, she answered it anyway, "...No. I didn't hear it from her."

She'd tried to be careful, giving him enough information to mull over but not anything that appeared outright supernatural. Technically, Juleka could've told Rose, who could've then told her at some point, which would've been far more normal compared to the truth.

But Luka, judging from the way he stared at her, eyes narrowed in contemplation, had caught onto the subtle implications in her tone.

Gripping her capris and taking a deep breath to steady her mind, Marinette pushed herself up to walk over to her computer chair. Nudging it aside with her leg, she turned to him and placed a hand atop the stack of transcripts, explaining, "I found these when I was at an event for the Ladybug movie everyone was talking about. There was a guy - Thomas Astruc - who directed it, but these call him a writer and I couldn't find out anything about it."

It all sounded irrelevant to what they were discussing, but Luka stood and came to stand alongside her, eyeing the stack and waiting for whatever she might say next.

In response, she held out three transcripts: Captain Hardrock, Frozer, and Reflekdoll. "You should read these first, but.... you might not like what you'll see."

It's all the warning she could give him without sounding like she was insane; his last way out before plunging under the depths with her. There would be no going back afterwards.

Luka, though puzzled, reached out for the papers, eyeing her face one last time before taking the transcripts in his hands to look at them properly. His eyes widened at what she imagined what the name of his mom's akuma, but he didn't comment on it as he went about reading.

Marinette stayed quiet the whole time, hands clasped tightly together to keep herself from making any movements. There would be time later for all of her discoveries and personal observations, but for now she let him piece it together himself.

Luka didn't say anything either, so she could only infer how he was feeling based on facial expressions and body language: the twitch of his eyebrows, the way his eyes flicked back up to reread something he found particularly unbelievable, and the sudden exhales he made that would ruffle the paper...

She could imagine that he was having a similar experience to her own, but what she couldn't was how it must've felt to realize the role he played.

Without question, he could've been invited to the photoshoot; he should've been invited and they could’ve easily made the time work out for him. After all, what better way to keep Juleka's anxiety at bay than to have the brother who knew it best along for the ride? She had men's clothes too and he could've easily modeled alongside his sister, the only reason Marinette hadn't invited him at the time being that she feared tampering with the plot with additional variables.

But she knew why it wasn't written into the original, at least. He was second place to someone else, so rarely thought about even with his role of being the "main character's" other crush. In the eyes of the plot, his feelings were written to be discarded, and it didn't matter how sweet he was or how compatible they might've been otherwise.

He would fail no matter what, tripping at the word 'go' without a chance of getting back up. She couldn't fathom why anyone would think to do that: to write a character who only served as a stone to be stepped on in order to get the person he liked with someone else.

She shuddered just thinking about it.

Luka's movements were unsteady - unlike himself - as he tore his gaze away from the transcripts in his hands to the ones on the table, his hip awkwardly bumping against the edge. He set the ones she'd given him aside to start reading from the others, leaning against the table with his back turned to it for support.

Marinette bit her bottom lip, sympathetic. The stack contained a majority of the transcripts she'd picked up and, while he may've intended try to pour through all of them, she did keep a choice few tucked away: specifically, the ones from the future that had him in them. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what she was written to do or wanted to keep him in the dark, but she'd wanted to mull things over herself first.

In more direct terms, her feelings for him. She would never deny that their first meeting had been "staged," written in such a way for them to start crushing on each other. She'd spent the full two weeks questioning her own emotions, sorting through them to see which felt real and which felt manufactured. It wasn't easy, and even now it was hard to gauge exactly what she felt that day.

So on some level, she looked forward to this: seeing Luka in front of her after reading something that treated him as someone to set aside. He still felt real, she'd still been aware of his body heat when they'd sat next to each other, and she couldn't help watching how he tilted his head just slightly when his bangs got in the way of reading a line or two.

She brought her clasped hands to her chest, feeling her own heartbeat. Regardless of the past, she knew the quickened thumping wasn't only from nerves, but what she couldn't know were his feelings.

Withholding those few transcripts for just a little longer played into that.

Marinette noticed the papers quiver in Luka's hands, looking down to see a tight grip that was all too familiar to her. Unable to stand aside any longer, she stepped towards him and unclasped her hands. Her fingers were stiff from gripping herself so tight, but she reached out anyway, delicately sliding her hand over his.

Luka's haunted gaze broke as he made eye contact with her, searching for something she couldn't quite place. Before she could say anything, he moved, both arms going around her and pulling her into a tight squeeze. The air left her lungs in a gasp, and her next breath took in his scent, so very close to her.

"Haaa—" He stopped for a moment, wavering, then tried again. "H-have you been dealing with this all by yourself?"

Her vision started to blur, tears coming to her eyes unbidden. He was the heavier of the two of them and she could feel it in his embrace, but the weight coming off her shoulders made it feel like nothing. She hadn't given a thought to what she may have liked to hear herself after what she'd been through, yet his words struck her in the heart in every right way.

It was an unspoken 'You're not alone anymore.' She hugged him back just as tightly, burying her face into his shoulder as she cherished the moment.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, having little else to say after keeping it a secret for what felt like so long. She might not have needed to apologize for it, but it clearly hurt him to know that she had been hurting.

And now he'd be with her through all of this; he'd shown her as much. Whether that involved helping her figure out what to do about Hawk Moth or how to break away fully from the plot, he'd be there.

That meant there was only one more thing to check.

Slowly, Marinette loosened her grip on the back of his jacket, giving him a sign that he could let go. His hands dropped back down to his sides, one hand still clutching the transcripts he'd been reading, but before he could step away from her, she reached up to take his face in her hands. His mouth dropped open without a sound, the hair in front of his ears tickling her fingers as she slid her palms against his cheeks.

His face was paler than usual from everything that'd been revealed to him, but colored at her featherlight touch. She tried to communicate everything with her eyes, giving him every opportunity to pull away from her.

The plots consistently tried to keep the events in place. Her grandfather still got akumatized, she'd put back and pulled out the wrong letter multiple times before giving up and keeping it between her teeth while she reached inside her yoyo, and Adrien still came along to the photoshoot no matter what she did. She could almost feel the world resisting her at every turn.

It wasn't safe to let her guard down when she knew one of the transcripts were taking place. It was already hard enough trying to make changes while the threat of the "destined" outcomes loomed over her, and there were other outcomes that were clearly avoided, such as her and Chat learning each other's identities.

When she first learned - read - that Adrien was Chat, there were a few days where she struggled to remember it. Maybe it was because of so much information being piled onto her at once, or something was fighting knowledge that she wasn't supposed to have.

And now, right there with her, was someone she wasn't supposed to have.

"Luka," she whispered, then closed her eyes and kissed him.

It was purposeful. It was delightful. It was terrifying. If there were only an external force causing his feelings for her, this is where it would all come undone. She kept her eyes shut tight, trying to feel out any sign that he didn't want this.

Instead, she heard the fluttering of papers, the transcripts falling at her feet as Luka held her again. He returned the kiss just as passionately, the stiffness and nerves from before fading away while he let himself drown in the comfort of the contact.

Faintly, she could recall her first kiss - the one demanded of her if she wanted to take out the akuma - but memories associated with anything written before she'd read the transcripts had slowly drifted to the back of her mind. They detached themselves from all else, as if she'd only experienced them in someone else's body.

Kissing Luka, meanwhile, felt vivid, her body shuddering in a mixture of joy and relief. Even when the kiss broke, he didn't step back from her, pressing their foreheads together. His eyes were half-lidded and appeared almost more blue than usual, a color she was quickly associating with hope.

Both at a loss for words, they accepted it and left talk of the future for the future. As for right then and there, they could write their own story just for themselves.

[shysublimecoffee]

I'd rather deal with Lila than Ladybug. At least Lila is upfront about her intentions. If she wants to hype herself up to impress her classmates, fine—go ahead. The moment you catch on to her game, it’s obvious what she’s about. She'd loose the veil and tell it how it is. She'd hate and destroy you if you continue to piss her off but hey at least she's truthful.

But Marinette? Oh, girl is something else. She’ll manipulate and use you like a tool and then discard you looking at you CN. And after what went down with Adrien in the London special? Who even needs enemies when you’ve got a friend like her, am I right? Lmao

The moment this girl entered his life, everything went downhill. She really had his friends and family lying to his face and keeping secrets under wraps. Sure, it was their decision—but seriously, Kagami? Girl, what happened to you? You used to be cool and honest, and now look at you.

It’s like every character who crosses paths with Ladybug gets sucked into this void where they lose all individuality and turn into her loyal yes-men. They stop feeling like actual characters. Its why I'm more pressed with her. They can't help it. Honestly, the only way to maintain your personality in Miraculous Ladybug is to be a villain or antagonist to Marinette. The second you join her "good side," it’s like an unspoken rule—you become just another follower in her shadow.

Imagine meeting a girl over a year ago, and in that short time, she’s managed to get Nathalie, Kagami (your former girlfriend), your cousin, Alya, Alix—basically everyone—to lie and keep secrets about what actually went down.

This girl caused so much damage, she might as well be the villain! Honestly, if isolating him and keeping him to herself was her intended plan, I’d almost respect the hustle. But no, we’re all just living in Marinette’s world, like she’s the center of the universe. Lmao.

The situation is so complex! Bitch no who said that?? lol. I feel like if it were anyone not Adrien in this situation she wouldn't really care now would she? Her rationale would be there and because the situation is distant she'd know the crimes have to be exposed. But her controlling nature really be there to anyone closest to her. Like she's toxic for real damn. I'd rather be her enemy then her friend because if this is how her intentions are then please keep her away from me.

Once the truth gets out, it’s not just Adrien she’ll have to face—it’s the entire world. Think about it: all the people whose pain was exploited and weaponized by Hawk Moth, their suffering turned into tools of destruction. And Ladybug? If her lies were exposed, and this show actually had the guts to go there, wouldn’t people start having conspiracy theories and questioning how far in is her involvement? She’s not just lying to the public about the true identity of Monarch; she’s actively hiding Tomoe and Nathalie—Gabriel’s partners-in-crime. That’s not just scandalous—it’s outright criminal. How does she justify covering for them? At what point does her so-called “protection” cross into outright betrayal?

She only has the audacity to pull this off because she’s hiding behind that mask. If her identity were ever revealed and the dominoes started falling, the trust people have in her would be obliterated in an instant. Imagine the fallout if everyone on the street—or even her own parents—found out the absolute shame. And spare me the whole “I lie to protect your feelings” excuse. This isn’t some harmless white lie, like pretending someone looks good in a dress when you secretly think otherwise. No, this is a catastrophic betrayal of trust, all to preserve her relationship with Adrien. And don’t come at me with the “she’s young” defense. Sure, she’s 14, but she made a very adult choice: to lie to the entire world—and especially Adrien—about his father being Hawk Moth. There’s no excusing that. You can't come back from that sometimes our words can have such a big impact and because to the world she is Ladybug her influence on the people is big people expect a superhero to be above that because she's supposed to be the protector of Paris.

I think many need to separate Marinette from Ladybug because this isn’t about civilian Marinette and her personal struggles because it doesn't matter. This is about Ladybug—the symbol of superheroism, the paragon of justice and integrity, at least what she’s perceived to be within her universe. Ladybug stands as an icon, someone the public looks up to and trusts implicitly. But when you peel back the layers, it’s clear she’s fallen. She didn’t just make a mistake; she failed to uphold the very code she’s meant to represent.

Superheroes are supposed to stand for truth, accountability, and the protection of others, even at great personal cost. Ladybug, however, has chosen to conceal life-altering truths and protect the guilty under the guise of “greater good.” In doing so, she’s betrayed not only Adrien but also the very principles that define a hero. And that failure strikes at the heart of her role as the so-called ideal of justice.

I really wonder how early Season 1 Marinette/Ladybug—or even the version of her before she was granted the Kwami of Creation—would feel if she saw her Season 5 counterpart. Would she even recognize herself? How would she process the distance between who she was and who she’s become?

Honestly, I’ve always had this sense, so I’m not exactly surprised. But after the special, it just confirmed something for me.

No matter how much the show tries to sell the idea that Adrien/CN and Ladybug are equals—no matter how many fluttering words or hugs they throw in—the truth is clear: Marinette will never see Adrien as her equal. And what does a lie with such vast and far-reaching consequences say about her character? It doesn’t matter how it was never meant to come off—because, truthfully, sometimes her actions speak louder than anything else. The way she behaves, the decisions she makes, they reveal far more about her character than any intentions or explanations ever could.

It tells you one thing for sure: You can be her Girlfriend her BestFriends or her closest working partner since the beginning of your debut. But if there is one thing you'd ever need to know best about her. You can never truly trust Marinette/Ladybug.

[delfiore]

—A SUMMER’S TALE.

pairing: vada cavell x reader

synopsis: the summer before college, vada joins mia's family on vacation in france and falls in love with the scenery, and a charismatic lifeguard.

word count: 9.6k

warnings: talk of the shooting

a/n: it's summer so you know my cmbyn flare ups are happening. i’ve been writing this for a few weeks now and i’m super pumped it’s done. pls let me now what you like, what you don’t like about this! i’d really appreciate some feedback!! and i’m sorry if i can’t reply to you if you comment on this as this acc is a secondary blog

The villa had one feature that stood out in particular—a hallway that ran through the base of the house, connecting the kitchen to the open grass area in the back. Even the tiniest gust of wind could collect into a large breeze to combat the sticky heat of the day.

Vada closed her eyes and lifted her arms by her side as she felt the breeze glide through her. She could smell an earthy, hay-like smell of flowers that had been bathing in sunlight wafting in from the garden behind the villa. It didn’t take much to notice; summer in southern France was in full swing.

I could live here, she thought. Four weeks of this? Away from the repetitive scenery of the American suburbs, away from expectations. Only a few minutes since she’s gotten off the car and seen the yellow walls and red bricks of the Mediterranean villa, and she’s been buzzing ever since. She’s never actually left the country before, and the long flight over was jarring, to say the least. But the beauty of what she saw as soon as she landed made up for it.

Mia had instructed her to come along upstairs to put her things away; Vada would be occupying the guest room next to hers. She swore her friendship with Mia Reed started because they both went through a traumatic thing together, but it was moments like these when she was grateful for the perks.

“I could use a nap,” Mia said, rubbing her face.

It was nearly nine in the morning when the girls finished unpacking. Mia’s parents had given them the morning to get settled and get used to the jet lag.

“I’m not too tired,” Vada said, “maybe I’ll go into town for the morning.”

“You sure you don’t need me to come with you?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun. It’s about time I put my four years of high school French to the test.”

The road into town winded downhill, and she was grateful she used one of the bikes the Reeds had available at their villa, as she would have dreaded the trek back up, had she gone on foot. She mapped out exactly the way into the town square and was determined to check everything out before returning for lunch. Thank god for Google Maps.

She had also bought a paper map of the town in a nearby kiosk and, after nearly two hours of exploring, mapped out a general layout of notable places in town. There was a fountain in the middle of the square in front of a church that Vada would use as a reference for everything; from the Fountain facing the church going left would be the town hall and that little kiosk, going right would be the local post office and the way back to the villa, opposite the church facing ahead lead down a slanted cobblestone alley full of restaurants and gift shops, as well as the way to the beach.

It must have been in the high 80s (30s Celsius) that day, so Vada decided to reward herself with some ice cream in the town square before she headed back. It was so hot that when sitting on a bench in the shades, she still had to try and keep the ice cream from melting all over her lap.

“Lillian’s ice cream is nice, but it melts quickly. You should try Karim’s down the street.”

Vada looked up at the voice in surprise, as it was English that was being spoken to her.

“Oh, totally!” She replied quickly. “How did you know I speak English?”

“I haven’t seen you around here.”

“But I could have also known French, right?”

“Touché, but I also recognize a compatriot when I see one.”

You wore an oversized white button-up that barely skirted past your black shorts, and your flip-flops indicated that you might have had a better idea of what the weather was going to be like as opposed to her in her high-neck basketball shoes. Peaking out from between the hem of your shirt was a necklace in the shape of a hummingbird, dangling and reflected in the sun.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Maybe a little." You grinned and shook your head from side to side. "Only tourists go to Lillian for ice cream.”

“So you’re not one, I assume.”

“I wouldn’t say so, no. My family has been coming here every summer ever since I was eight. These people are probably sick of me by now.” You chuckled.

This is your time, Vada, be smooth. “Lucky for you, you’ll have someone new to entertain.” She grinned and pointed at herself.

. . . Adequate.

The melodic laugh that escaped you gave her a new-found confidence, and she decided that it was to be her new favorite sound.

“Alright, since you seem to know the area so well,” Vada said. “What’s fun to do around here?”

Conversation flowed so easily between the two of you, she had almost forgotten that she only met you 15 minutes ago. Granted, you were also easy on the eye, and Vada would always remember the way the water from the fountain reflected in waves across your skin.

At one point she had started talking about the time her family got stranded in the middle of nowhere on a road trip to Phoenix. Vada felt like she was talking too much, but the way you laughed along with her story made her feel like it wasn’t for naught.

The bell tower of the church rang throughout the square. Vada widened her eyes and checked her phone, it was noon.

"Shit, I have to get back. My host family's gonna wonder where I am." She stood up quickly and collected her bike. The height of the seat and her haste caused her to stumble, and she would have fallen if not for you grabbing her by the arm and holding her up.

"Oh, okay. I’m sure there’s a story about a daytime Cinderella somewhere.”

She looked up and you were smirking. "Vada," she said. Maybe she shouldn’t have told you, Cinderella was fine, you didn’t know each other.

She could barely make out your attempt at her name on your lips before you nodded.

“Y/N.” You held your hand out for her to take. There was that touch that changed the course of her summer, the one touch that set into motion a journey toward a certain feeling that Vada had never felt before.

"Bye, Y/N!" She called behind her before rounding the corner, past the post office, and back to the Reed villa.

Mia had been waiting by the front door and breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Vada cycling uphill.

"Where the hell have you been? We thought you'd been kidnapped!"

"Wait, could you get kidnapped here?" Vada’s face dropped at the thought, even though she was positively out of breath.

"You could get kidnapped anywhere, V."

"Well, I got lost." She hopped off her bike and set it by the entrance. "My phone died so I couldn't use Maps."

Her friend rolled her eyes and led her inside where a hearty lunch awaited. It was mid-June and apricots were in season for dessert.

It wasn't until late afternoon the next day that Vada regained the energy to go outside again. The jet lag had finally caught on, and she spent the morning asleep until noon. Mia had suggested going to the beach, which was great because she could see how things were, and either get into the water or take another nap.

Mia—being Mia—wore her bathing suit and a thin cardigan as her attire, while Vada decided on wearing an oversized tee and shorts over her bathing suit.

"Don't freak out. I've invited some friends. Just kids from the area," said Mia, once they arrived at the beach.

Vada stayed back, as Mia was greeted by several people similar in age to her, speaking in French at a pace her high school education couldn’t help her understand.

“This is Vada, she’s a friend from home.”

A curly-headed boy stood up from his lounge chair and sauntered over to give Mia a kiss on each cheek, then looked over to Vada and did the same. “Corentin, but please call me Coco,” he said and took both their bags. Vada didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on Mia’s form a bit longer than normal.

“Come, Vada! Mia, where have you been hiding this one? I’m Marlène. This is Sasha.” The brunette pulled her by the hand and gestured to the boy sitting next to her. He was slender with blonde hair part in the middle. “We’re about to go into the water if you want to join.”

“Where’s Noémie?” asked Mia.

“Déjà à l’eau. No doubt to show off to the lifeguard.” Sasha snickered, nodding his head towards the water. He took another drag from his cigarette and rested his arm back against Marlène’s chair.

“Speaking of the lifeguard . . .” Vada followed Marlène’s gaze towards . . . you.

Her mouth hung open as she watched you, in red shorts and a white T-shirt, a whistle hanging from your neck. You pulled your sunglasses up to your head and gave Mia la bise.

Of course, she thought. She had hoped to see you again, but only when there was no one else around, and that you’d catch her by surprise when she was alone once more. She’d only met you, but she wished that she could have you all alone, not like a secret, but like a prized possession.

“And just how many people have died while you’re on watch?” Mia teased.

“Zero, but very soon,” you pointed at her, “one.”

When you turned to Vada, her breath hitched. “Hi,” you greeted with that warm smile again. Even in your work attire, she spotted that necklace next to your whistle.

“Y/N, this is—”

“Vada, the daytime Cinderella. We met yesterday in the square.” You replied. “Did I forget to mention I work here?”

Vada was grinning like an idiot, her cheeks tinted pink at the nickname. “Yup, you did.”

“Y/N!” Over jogged a gorgeous girl, even Vada had to admit. Her black bathing suit hugged her curves perfectly, and though her hair was completely wet, the water droplets clinging to her olive skin made her glow. “T'as prévu aller en boîte ce week-end, ou bien? J'ai chopé l'info qu'y a un nouveau DJ en ville, et il envoie du pâté!”

She was clinging onto your arm, and speaking way too fast for Vada to understand, but she picked up on some keywords: ce week-end, and nouveau DJ.

When she finally noticed Vada there, her excitement subsided, but she walked over anyway to greet her, like an afterthought. “Salut. I’m Noémie.”

“Hi. Vada.”

Just as quickly as you arrived, Noémie had led you away, talking your ear off about something that Vada didn’t have the heart to eavesdrop on. Her eyes followed your form, picking up on the way you kept your arms by your side even when Noémie was practically hanging off of you. In a sporadic moment, Vada thought she saw you looking back over her shoulder at the friend group, and maybe toward her.

“Your phone died, huh?” Mia poked her elbow into her side with a teasing grin.

“Shut up,” Vada murmured. “What’s the deal with them anyway?”

“They were together last summer,” Sasha replied, then turned to the others. “Plan cul, how do you say?”

“A fling, but Noémie seems more attached than Y/N ever did,” said Coco.

“No doubt Y/N has already found a new paramour for the summer,” Marlène commented.

“It’s summertime. Anything’s possible.”

As much as she hated it, you plagued her mind, much more than she cared to admit. She didn’t want to think about what your initial conversation meant to you (if it did at all), or what the lack of words in your second meeting meant. She didn’t want to think about Noémie either, how she seemed so confident to get your attention, and an up-and-down look from her made Vada want to crawl into a hole.

She remembered the handshake. The speed at which she rode away wasn’t entirely to get home in time before Mia’s parents called the police, but to get away from the butterflies that burst in her stomach that moment her hand firmly shook yours. She’d seen how you greeted your friends, but to her, she offered a handshake. Though the gesture itself was completely platonic and can be passed off as a farewell between two strangers, she felt a sense of exclusivity, that American camaraderie you shared with her in a foreign land. Common courtesy as a mode of intimacy. Revisiting it now, Vada recognized it as a sign of attraction and an apprehension to the speed at which it enveloped her.

She would see you around town in your work uniform after your shift, sometimes you’d be talking to people, sometimes you were the buyer yourself. No matter the person though—from the tourists asking for directions to the old owner of the bookstore by the fountain, they always loved you and talked to you like you were their best friend. She’d see you from afar, wanting to talk to you, but then get anxious the moment you spotted her a give her a friendly wave.

Then there were times when you would come by the Reed villa. Philip and Andre always received you like you were an esteemed guest, gifting you fruits from the trees in the backyard. She loved to see how you acted around different people, and to the Reeds who had known you for years, you were awful shy.

“Invite your parents over. We should all have dinner sometime!”

“Oh, my parents aren’t here this summer. My dad’s busy with a conference in Singapore, but they’ll drop by at the end of July.”

Even the times you were invited to stay for supper, it was clear you knew how to hold a conversation over the dinner table. She wondered if you were studying to be a politician because you seemed to charm everyone and had the best manners. Mia would not-so-subtly yield the spot next to you for Vada, and secretly, she was glad to be sitting next to you.

For the first time in her life, she felt a force holding her back, preventing her from reaching out. Maybe it was because she had only known you for a couple of weeks but felt like you’d always been there, like a puzzle finally piecing together.

And every time, right before you left, after you had said goodbye to the Reeds, you’d find her somehow. “Bye,” would be all you said with an adoring smile, but Vada would be thinking about it until the next day.

She and Mia met up with the group again one night, this time at a nearby open-air disco. When she arrived, she could spot Sasha and Marlène already twirling each other around on the dance floor, she was laughing as he spun her around, cigarette between his lips. She felt a pang of envy, imagining that it was your arms around her waist instead as you spun her around without a care in the world, in front of everyone. Let them see. Let them see that you’re mine and I’m yours. If she were being honest, she only agreed to come just so she could see you again. She found you sitting at a table with Coco and Noémie, chatting away.

“Hi.” Her attention was focused on you. She couldn’t be more sober, and she wished she had taken a few puffs before coming.

As if having read her mind, Coco pulled out a couple of joints, lighting one and taking a puff himself before passing it to Noémie.

“You partake?” You shouted over the loud music.

“Oh, she partakes.” Mia nodded enthusiastically. “The first time she did weed she smoked most of my joint. Then proceeded to blabber on nonstop for two hours.”

You let out a laugh. “I like this one!”

She hated, despised even, the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be near you, to impress you, to feel special in your eyes as you were in hers. It was human nature; everyone liked feeling special, but somehow getting validation from you would make her ten times happier. She sat two seats away from you—next to Mia and Noémie—and once in a while, she would try and dart her eyes over to look at you ever so subtly. On a couple of occasions, her heart would jump when she noticed you were already looking back.

A few minutes later, Vada started to feel the effect of the weed, and Mia must have too because she pulled her toward the dance floor. Looking back, she saw you talking to Noémie. You didn’t look too happy and neither did she, having her arms crossed in front of her chest. Then, she walked outside and you followed her impatiently. When you returned, a polite smile was on your face when you noticed her looking for you.

“Are you okay?” She shouted, the weed had made her feel bold.

“Yeah! Everything’s fine.” You shouted back.

It might have been the weed or it was something that’s already been there, but Vada couldn’t take her eyes off of you. She took you by the hand, and there was that same spark of electricity again. You let her guide you, your hands never leaving hers as you moved with her.

It was about a quarter to midnight when everyone decided to split because frankly, everyone was too tired to continue. Vada said goodbye to Sasha and Marlène, the latter of whom gave her a big hug and repeatedly expressed her delight that Vada had decided to join them. Coco, already sober, offered to drive Mia home, but his ride was a scooter.

“Sorry, les gars,” Coco smiled sheepishly and asked Mia if she was ready, to which the girl only nodded.

“I’ll walk you home.” You said quietly, surprisingly timid. “Promise me you won’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight?”

She huffed through her nose and gave you a shove, but she was grinning. It was just the two of you now. Her pride was on the line, and so was her heart.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Your voice cut through the stillness of the night. Before that, the only sounds were that of your shoes brushing against the ground and the soft sighs of the ocean.

“Is everything okay with Noémie?”

You averted your eyes, your hand coming up to play with the hummingbird on your neck.

Maybe she shouldn’t have. “Shit, did I overstep?”

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s just Noë being Noë, she was out of line.” Your walls were up. “We were always close, she was the first friend I made here. And last summer we slept together.”

“Oh.” Her steps faltered.

“I stopped it before it could progress into anything beyond that, though. I’m just not ready.”

Vada nodded slowly. Loud and clear. Maybe that was the signal she needed, the insecure part of her thought it was that, but when she was with you, all she wanted to do was listen to the other part.

“I slept with Mia once, sophomore year.”

You looked over at her, seemingly surprised. “Mia? Huh. Never would have thought.”

“It was just that, though.” She flashed you a smile.

Vada felt that surge of closeness between you, your arm swinging beside her as you walked. The obsession with finding anything to relate to you prompted her to say it, like Hey, I’m like you, I know how you feel. Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to tell you, she might have screwed up.

You mirrored her smile, but something about it told her that your heart wasn’t entirely in it. Tell me what you’re thinking, Y/N. She wanted to get inside your head and know everything you were thinking, to go all the way with that closeness. Even as friends, one has to start from somewhere.

It was radio silence from you for the next few days. Vada came up with all the excuses as to what it could have been, and when she grew tired and angry at herself for thinking so much about you, she tried to distract herself by doing other things. She helped Philip collect figs from the trees in the backyard; she looked up the fortress nearby you told her about the day you met and biked all the way over there, even though it was a half an hour's ride each way; she finally took out the book she packed with her and began reading it whilst sunbathing. It was starting to feel like a summer that she should be enjoying.

Her mom called and was happy to hear that her daughter was going outside and doing fun things. “The people are nice,” Vada would say, “I met some of Mia’s friends.” And in true Mom fashion, her mom would quickly squeeze in a “Don’t do drugs and use protection” to which she ended the call and almost threw her phone across the room.

She would also call Nick every other day. I met someone, she said one day after having finally gathered the courage to vocalize her crush. Girl, I know. Mia had told him. When? Literally the second day. She said you were so obvious.

It was as if the weather knew too. It started raining all day when she decided to go to the beach one day, souring her mood entirely. She would sit by the entrance in the backyard watching the rain, and sure enough, she was thinking about what you were doing on the opposite end of town.

“It’s unlike you to be so hung up on someone,” Mia told her when they were hanging out in Mia’s room.

“I’m not hung up on someone,” her words trailed at the end, mindlessly flipping through the magazine in front of her.

“So am I just crazy for thinking that you want to pounce on Y/N every three seconds?”

“Okay, but what about you and Coco? He follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy.”

“Coco’s just shy,” her friend blushed. “And stop changing the subject.”

“There’s nothing between us, at least not yet.”

“So you do want something to happen.”

“Shut up! Mia!” She hid her face behind her hands and writhed on Mia’s bed in embarrassment. “I’m not talking to you about this anymore.”

“Alright, alright,” Mia held her hands up as her laughter subsided.

“Look, I just want to—” Vada took a moment. “I want to test the waters, okay? Y/N is special, and I don’t want to ruin anything.”

Mia nodded, understanding. “I just don’t want you to be misled. I mean, you’ve seen how it was with Noémie.”

“I know.” Vada smiled softly. “I know what I’m getting into. Zero expectations.”

She wanted to believe what she told Mia too, but then when she saw texts from you the next day, there was no hiding that a connection was what she so tirelessly wanted, and needed.

hey it’s y/n Sent 3:23pm

mia gave me your number, i hope you don’t mind Sent 3:23pm

call me when you see this? Sent 3:24pm

Damn you, Mia, but also, thank you.

She didn’t work up enough courage to call you until later that night. Of course, it could have been something dire, but then you would have called her first, right? I am such a wimp.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” she rubbed her hands against her shorts. “it’s Vada. You wanted me to call you?”

“Yeah. I was gonna just text you, but I don’t know . . .” You hesitated for a moment. “Anyway, you ever been to Antibes?”

“No, why?”

“Well, I’m going there on Friday for my apprenticeship, and I was wondering if you wanted to come with? I’m just giving some manuscripts to my mentor, and then leaving them with him for a few hours to review, so we can make a fun day out of it. It’s a one-hour drive, so I don’t plan on staying overnight.”

“Friday you said?” Vada took a deep breath to still her racing heart. “I don’t think I got anything better to do that day.”

“Great!” You said. “I’ll pick you up at 9am?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Cool, see you then!”

There was something frightening about when things go exactly how you wanted them. It was inch-perfect, the puzzle pieces just slotted in place as if they were always fated to be. You were the first to reach out; she thought it would be easier that way, she’d just have to take your hand and come along. But there was a certain apprehension that Vada had as if she was walking straight into the lion’s den like a deer blinded by hunger. What if she loses her heart? She was aware of the dangers of heartbreak, of course—she was no fool—but the thought of giving her heart to you, then watching you walk away with it like an unwanted gift was too devastating.

Mia was practically bouncing off the walls when Vada told her about the phone call, saying that in all seven years of knowing you, she had never been special enough to receive a call. She didn’t exactly say the latter part, but she all but implied it.

On Friday morning, Vada woke up earlier than usual, made herself some breakfast, and was already waiting at the door with a backpack by 8:45. No later than 9:05, you arrived with a Volkswagen Golf, sunglasses on, and a bright smile.

“Music?” You offered, turning on Bluetooth. “Also, if you need a pee break, please tell me. Bladders can be untimely.”

“Noted,” Vada giggled.

The car ride was mostly silent, aside from the music you let her pick and the fun facts you enlightened her with about some of the landmarks you drive past.

“That one I believe was built in the later 1600s and owned by a minor Provence viscount. It was also in a strategic location for the military until it was abandoned after the French Revolution. Also, the viscount built the castle for his second wife, but she died shortly after giving birth to their child.”

“That’s a little sad,” said Vada.

“She was also 14 when she died and he was in his 50s.”

Vada grimaced. “Maybe death was a sweet relief.”

“Yeah. It was more common back in the day than you think.”

“How do you know all this?” She brought her legs up against her chest.

“I like history. I like to learn about the areas I’m in, and in the time that I’ve been here, I’ve had a lot of opportunities to learn.”

She watched your side profile for a moment. “You mentioned some manuscripts. What is it for?”

“Is this an interview now?” You laughed and glanced over at her, and she looked down with a blush. “It’s for my bachelor’s thesis. Technically I don’t start writing until next year, but I like to practice whenever I can. This one that I’m giving to my mentor is a collection of essays.”

“Can I read them?” You looked over for a moment, then reached behind you to grab a file of paper and handed it to her.

Vada settled back and opened the first pages, and read in silence. She could feel you spare short glances at her from time to time, nervously watching for her reaction, but she was so engrossed in your writing it almost didn’t matter that you were sitting next to her. This might have been what it feels like to peer into someone’s soul, to see the traces of fresh blood as they lay their heart onto paper.

It was a beautiful sunny day, the waters shone a deep turquoise, and the French Riviera looked glorious as ever. And yet, she could only get lost in your words.

“This is beautiful,” Vada breathed, setting the papers down on her lap. “You’re amazing.”

You looked ahead at the road, eyes covered by shades, but your large grin was unmissable.

You parked the car on the side of the street in front of several apartment buildings. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.” Vada only nodded and watched you cross the street with the manuscripts in your hand. She liked how it felt between you two, and she would gladly accompany you on every trip until you were sick of her.

Mere minutes later, you returned. “I hope you’re ready for the best adventure of your life.”

Only, she knew it would be.

You first led her to the market in the vieille ville, where you bought some fruits and snacks for the way. Vada also got to witness firsthand your bargaining skills, asking for a price and then pretending to walk away until the vendor becomes desperate enough to settle. “I used to be really bad at this, but then I watched my mom do it, and now I kind of just do. These vendors hike up their prices for tourists like crazy.” You walked away proudly with a bag of food.

As the both of you walked through the picturesque alleys and streets, you proceeded to tell her more about the city and its history. She listened carefully, hanging onto every word that left your lips. You told her about how Antibes was first named Antipolis and part of Ancient Greece before it was built by the Romans in the time of Julius Caesar; how in the Middle Ages the city fell under the fiefdom of the Grimaldi family, the main branch of which is now royalty of Monaco.

“Sorry, you gotta stop me before I go on a tangent,” you chuckled, scratching the back of your neck. “I’ve been talking for ages.”

“No, I like it.” She said quickly. “I like listening to you talk. It’s no surprise many artists were so taken with this place.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“Hemingway, Picasso, and Monet all had a fascination with this city.” She had to look that up, but you didn’t need to know that.

“That’s right,” you nodded. “In fact, I’ll show you the spot where Monet painted one of his paintings later.”

After lunch, you both walked along the city walls that looked out to the beach.

“I’m just saying, Ratatouille piqued a lot of interest in the dish, and it wasn’t a coincidence. I mean, I’ve never tried it but I’d love to, just because it looked so good in the movie.” Vada said.

“You’ve never had ratatouille?!” You exclaimed loudly making Vada laugh. “Man, it’s a staple here in southern France! I’ll have to make you some because that is just criminal.”

“Okay, Chef Remy. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Actually, I’ll make a whole batch for you and the Reeds too. They always give me fruits from their backyard,” you said. “How did you meet Mia anyway?”

At the question, Vada’s smile collapsed into a frown. “Um . . .” You watched her, a confused look on your face. “I’ve always known who she was. I mean, it’s Mia, you know? But one day we met officially in the bathroom at school.”

“Oh,” you voiced. You must be confused as to why that was so hard to squeeze out, but the latter part, the part she kept hidden, she had been trying to squeeze out for two years.

“We were in the bathroom while there was a shooting going on.”

You opened your mouth to say something, but you only ended up watching her. Then, a moment later, “I didn’t mean to . . .”

“No, it’s fine.” Vada shook her head. “You didn’t know.”

“I’m so sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to.” Your eyes softened and you looked like you had kicked a puppy.

“I know,” she said, taking a breath.

“I see it on the news all the time, but I can’t imagine what it’s like to be there,” you said quietly. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

Vada hated having to talk about it. If she could have it her way, she would bury it deep down so it never sees the light of day again. Still, she has to talk about it to her friends, her family, her therapist sometimes. She hated talking about it because she’d have to see the way people’s faces contort uncomfortably as they scramble to find consoling words to say. They don’t make her feel any better, and she never liked people seeing that broken side of her reflected back at them.

But when she looked at you right now, there wasn’t a trace of ego in the way that you look back at her. Deep down, she had always wanted to lay it on you, to give you a piece of her, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

Because she wanted you to see it.

Vada found your hand by your side, soft and comforting. She kept her eyes on them; her hand and your hand, intertwined together. You embraced it and rubbed the back of her hand with your thumb before kissing it. A kiss of friendship, a kiss of love, a kiss of two young people in a city far from home together who had only just met. A kiss that said I see you, I hear you, you’ve got me around your corner.

“You wanna go grab some dinner?” She asked.

Dinner turned into even more talk. Towards late afternoon, you said you wanted to catch the sunset before going to the spot you claimed Monet painted the city. It was a quick drive, but you pumped your fists in the air when you got out of the car and were happy with how the sun rolled over the city just right.

“Come on, you’re gonna miss it!” You jogged towards the edge of the water, beaming like a little kid. It had become natural between the two of you to share skin-ship.

Behind the trees, there it was. Across the blue water, Antibes basked in the last few rays of sunlight in stoic tranquility, just as Monet had seen it. Perhaps she was in one of Monet’s paintings, frozen in time, stuck with you.

She found your hand again, your left this time, and once again your gaze followed, but this time, you trailed your gaze to her eyes. God help me, she thought.

There were so many things Vada wanted to blurt out, and she was close to it. Holding back was never her strong suit, but once she got a good look at the depth of your eyes, she felt that they were better appreciated in silence. Words don’t do anything but snitch on you anyway.

She didn’t need to, because the moment she turned to look at you, she felt you grab her face gently and lay the softest kiss on her lips.

The sun continued to glare, yet Antibes stared on.

Did Monet ever paint lovers?

Liar.

Liar.

Vada felt like she’d make a mistake for giving in to it. She saw her younger self in the square that day, by the fountain, eating ice cream. She saw you talking to her, and she wanted to scream and tell herself to stop, to save herself the heartache. No one else was to blame, not even you, only her.

Antibes was a week ago, and she hasn’t really spoken to you ever since. She replayed the kiss over and over in her head, trying to pinpoint exactly the moment when you decided that keeping your distance would be the best course of action.

But then she remembered the way you acted alone with her was much different than how you were with the others around. She saw the way your eyes linger on her when you thought she was admiring the sea. She noticed the way you smiled bashfully when she brought up how good your essays were in front of your mentor. She remembered how you never let go of her hand when she grabbed it while you watched the sunset.

Marlène and Sasha had been a big help in getting her out of her slump. Mia was there to cuddle with her the first couple of nights after Vada told her everything, but rendezvous with Coco had kept her busy. But Marlène and Sasha were cool, and probably one of the healthiest couples she’s ever seen at the age of 20. She felt like their adoptive child hanging out with them, especially when Sasha would greet her by endearingly calling her Petit Vada.

“And have you talked to her?” Marlène asked, leaning over the lounge chair. She and Vada had been sunbathing and swimming at the Reed villa that afternoon.

“No.” Vada sighed. “It’s just—I just don’t get it! Why does she have to be so mysterious all the time? Like one moment we would be fine, and the next she’s somewhere else, someone else entirely.”

“That’s Y/N,” Marlène chuckled and took a sip from her margarita. “You know, when I and Sash first got together, he wasn’t as talkative as he is now. In fact, I was the one to ask him out. Sometimes you just have to suck it up and tell them.”

“That’s so easy to say,” Vada muttered, and put her face in her hands.

“That’s the kind of attitude you should save for when you go back to your other life, your American life. Are you going to university this fall? Summer’s halfway over, you know? Are you going to mull over it and let it pass by you?”

“Yes.” Vada’s voice was muffled through her hands.

“Carpe diem, mon chère.” Marlène shrugged. “It’s cheesy but it’s true.”

Andre being the ever BBQ dad that he was, decided to host a get-together with some friends that night, and encouraged Mia to invite hers. Everyone that Vada met at the beach showed up, including Noémie, except for you.

“She said she was busy,” Noémie waved it off. Vada pursed her lips. The fact that you talked to Noémie first stirred uneasy envy in the pit of her stomach.

She didn’t have the stomach to sit outside and spoil everyone’s fun with her sour face (most of all she didn’t want to give Noémie that satisfaction), so she made a plate for herself and ate in the living room.

“Hey, kiddo,” she looked up and saw Philip walk past her toward the kitchen. “Not feeling the party?”

Vada made a face to indicate a yes, but she didn’t want to explain further. “Just not really in the mood, sorry.”

“It’s okay. You can’t stop Andre from barbecuing when he has the urge or he’d literally combust.”

She nodded and smiled. “We don’t want that.”

“We’re serving fruits now. Want me to get you some?” He pointed at her empty plate.

“Yes, please. Thanks.” She hesitated for a beat. “Hey, Philip?”

The man turned around.

“How did you know that you wanted to marry Andre?”

Philip contemplated for a second, then walked over to the couch where she sat, leaning against it. “I didn’t wake up one day and choose to propose to him, Vada. It’s just one of those things when you start to notice that gnawing feeling in your chest. And you’d have to ask yourself, ‘Would I be fine going the rest of my life without them?’”

Vada nodded slowly and smiled as the man went back to the kitchen. She opened her phone and went to your messages. The last text from you was from a week ago. She began typing.

can we talk? Sent 8:47pm

A mere five minutes later, you responded.

of course Sent 8:47pm

meet me at the fountain at 10? Sent 8:48pm

see u there Sent 8:48pm

Vada found you walking back and forth by the Fountain, one hand in deep your pants pocket, the other holding a cigarette between your thumb and index, and puffing it as if it would give you a lifeline. She got off her bike and set it by the railing of the Fountain where you stood.

“You smoke?”

“Not usually,” you attempted to smile, shaking your arms as if to shake off an invisible burden. You were anxious, it was clear.

Vada didn’t know what to say next, so she leaned against the railing of the Fountain, rolling a pebble back and forth underneath her shoe.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you earlier. I was busy.”

She nodded half-heartedly, not looking up. She wished you’d come up with a better excuse than that.

“Are you angry with me?”

“Angry’s a strong word, Y/N.”

Another puff. “Are you discontent with me?”

She should have prepared herself for the nit-picky bullshit from a writer. “I don’t have a valid reason to be upset with you, not really. Unless I’ve been reading this wrong.”

“You haven’t.” You answered quickly and met her eyes. “I promise. It wasn’t very mature of me. In fact, I think I acted like a total idiot. I’m really sorry.”

“Do you regret kissing me?”

“No, not at all. And you have to believe me.” You sighed exasperatedly, and she almost felt bad because you looked so anxious.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Vada stepped towards you, facing you head-on. “You’re asking me whether I’m upset with you, but I don’t even know what you’re thinking most of the time. And then you disappear as though I did something wrong! How fair is that?”

You nodded and took another drag from your cigarette. Then, you dropped the butt on the floor and stomped on it. “I’m thinking that I really want to kiss you right now.”

Vada scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”

You stood up from your spot against the railing, your face now inches from hers. “It’s true.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

She felt the exact moment her body became as light as a feather as your lips pressed against hers. Her hands clenched by her side, and come up to hold onto your shoulders, because she was afraid her legs might give out under her. You angled your face and deepened the kiss, and Vada sighed into your mouth. This is what the poets all wrote about, the inevitability of giving in to what you’ve wanted for so long. She’s caged in you in between her body and the Fountain, kissing you and touching you as though her life depended on it.

You moved to lower your kisses to her neck, but she leaned back and saw a dark look in your eyes.

The sound of a street musician playing the saxophone in the distance somewhere echoed through the square. Wordlessly, Vada took your hand.

She followed you by bike towards your house, which was towards the end of the street closer to the beach. You returned to speaking only one or two words to her, telling her to put her bike by the door next to yours, to take her shoes off before coming in, and whether she wanted some water.

“Nice place.” It was another thing that she never thought to ask you about, nor did you tell her. But it wasn’t a surprise that your family was loaded too, considering the vacation home in an area like this.

“Thanks. It’s my parents’, though.”

“What do they do again?”

“Well, my mom does interior design and my dad is a football agent.”

“Football agent? Who does he represent?”

“Mostly American players in Europe; Christian Pulisic, Luca de la Torre, Gio Reyna. I remember my dad bringing me along to dinner with Sergio Agüero once because he considered a move to LAFC. That was pretty cool.” You stood against the wall in the hallway, next to the staircase, kicking your feet aimlessly. The small talk was to cover up for something else.

You fell into a deep silence. Vada took a step forward under the yellow light of the hallway and took your hand, stroking it gently.

“Can I kiss you?” She asked quietly.

You and she both knew you were way past just kissing. This was new territory, and there would be no going back after this.

You nodded, and she surged forwards to kiss you slowly. This time, it felt different. You kissed her without the chastity and fear of being looked in on but without the hunger of overcoming lust. It was a perfect blend of passion and appreciation, a marriage of everything felt within the past few weeks.

You lead her upstairs, towards your room. Once inside, your lips were still glued to hers as you let her walk backward, though your eagerness made her trip on your feet and fall onto the mattress.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. ‘M sorry.” The two of you burst into a fit of giggles as you tried to make it up to her with a shower of kisses.

As her giggles quickly turned into pleasant sighs, she decided to surrender herself to you, to her deepest desires ever since the day she arrived. You had charmed her from the moment she laid eyes on you. But now to feel your hands on her in all the right places took her to new heights of pleasure that she’s never experienced before. How beautiful it was to be herself, to be here in this moment, and to cherish and be cherished by you. But most of all, to hear you whisper her name and profanities in the most sinful and vulnerable ways, so unlike your polished and composed self in front of other people.

Vada, Vada, Vada . . .

She awoke in the morning, the sun piercing through the horizontal slits of the shut windows. There was sweat sticking to her skin, but she didn’t want to get up and shower, not when you were still soundly asleep, arm loosely wrapped around her torso. It was then that she realized that you both were still very naked, but she reveled in the skin-to-skin contact like it was giving her strength and vitality. The golden hummingbird sat on your chest, rising and falling with each of your breaths.

Vada caught the moment your eyes fluttered open and focused on her. Then a smile.

“What time is it?” You asked.

Vada leaned over to check the clock on the wall. “7:41.”

You grumbled. “My shift starts at 8:30.”

“You better chop-chop then.”

“I don’t wanna go.”

“Then don’t.” Vada placed her chin on your upper chest. “Stay here with me, and we can recreate last night.”

You chuckled and kissed her once. “That sounds really tempting.”

And yet, you moved to get up, but she held you back. “Five more minutes.”

“Only five?” You smirked.

“You don’t think I can do it in five?”

You grinned like a Cheshire cat and settled back.

Vada had to let you go eventually, you let her stay at yours and do as she pleased. She suddenly remembered that she never texted Mia back about staying out overnight, and sure enough, flipped her phone over to a few missed calls and text messages. After texting her back and reassuring her that she was okay, she got up and went to take a shower.

You came back around four and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it felt like forever until you walked through the doors again. And the moment you did, she pounced on you like a lion.

“I’m so sweaty,” you laughed but soon became lost in the sensation of her lips against yours.

You made love again that afternoon. Vada could almost picture the routine that she and you so easily fell into, how the puzzle pieces fit together so seamlessly. It almost felt like she had cheated somehow to feel this way, that it truly felt as magical and wonderful as it was laying in your arms, both of you stark naked. You had showered and smelled much like lavender. Your eyes were closed but you weren’t asleep, as she watched your chest rise and fall steadily. Sometimes you would murmur something and she would talk to you quietly, knowing you were tired from a day’s work at the beach.

“I knew I liked you from the first day, at the Fountain,” you said.

“Then why didn’t you say anything?!” Vada looked up and hit your chest playfully.

“I didn’t want to come on too strong and scare you away!”

“Jesus Christ,” she sat up and put her face in her palms. “Y/N, I wanted you so badly. Like, I could not go a day without thinking about you. It was actually becoming unhealthy how much I did.”

“Oh? I’m flattered.” You smirked and rubbed her knee. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because . . . After Antibes, I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way.”

Your face dropped slightly. “I was scared to get close to someone. I think I caught myself then after we kissed. It was scary how much I wanted your company.”

Vada could understand. You’ve only known each other for three weeks. What were you to each other? Maybe it didn’t matter, there was something comforting about just existing as two souls being present with each other. She realized that the fear she’d harbored about losing her heart was all in vain; you never took it for yourself, you’d only pressed your hand against her chest and encouraged it to keep beating—to keep being hers—while you’d hoped that she would do the same to you.

“If you could go back to that day at the Fountain, and do it differently, would you?” Vada asked.

You thought for a second, then shook your head. “No. I always want to remember you this way.”

Vada swallowed thickly and avoided your eyes. “We’re leaving next week.”

A silence hung in the air, unspoken words stuck in her throat. Tell me to stay. Tell me you’ll come back with me. Tell me you’ll never love anyone else. Tell me you’d forget about me so as to soothe the pain.

“Then let’s make it count,” you brushed a hair from her eyes. “We’re not the first, and we won’t be the last to love each other.”

She dreaded the flight back home, having to pretend leaving you wouldn’t be as hard in front of Mia and her parents, and about 300 strangers. She’d miss biking everywhere and the beach and Lillian’s ice cream (she had grown to like it over Karim’s). She’d remember Antibes and Monet’s spot. She’d remember your face and how you seemed to appear in every memory of this trip.

Vada felt you brushing your finger under her eye and realized that it was wet. Then you brought her into your arms and held her tight as she hid from the world in your neck. You cooed and somehow it made Vada feel worse and started crying harder, clinging to your skin desperately.

She’d find space for the grief she was going to feel in her heart somewhere because she knew she’d rather live with the pain than be without you again.

The last week started on a Wednesday. Vada did the usual things she did the last few weeks—go to the beach, bike to town, hang out with the group; she wanted to soak into that last semblance of her summer routine before she had to leave, and everything would be different. She hadn’t given college much thought either. Deciding to move halfway across the country for it was the least stressful part of the whole process, as she was going in undecided. Mia was happy though, because they would only be a few hours apart by train.

Until then, Vada was too afraid to ask you about what would happen after the summer ended. If she asked, it would mean that it was close and it was real. You’d go back to school in Paris and start on your thesis, and everything would go back to the way it was.

Everything would go back to the way it was. As if nothing happened.

She had lived four weeks with you, how was she ever going to go the rest of her life without you?

She met up with you after dinner one night at the beach. The tides had come in much closer and were pulling on her heartstrings mercilessly. In and out, in and out . . . You were as quiet as the night, your eyes gazed towards the distance somewhere, looking pensive.

Still, she was afraid to ask.

“I lied,” you finally spoke. “I wished I had told you sooner how much I liked you.”

Vada remained silent and nodded. “We’ll call.”

“It won’t be the same.”

She knew too that it would never be the same the moment she leaves France. She realized that though she was afraid to ask, time was not on her side, and she didn’t have the luxury to be afraid anymore.

“Will you stay over tonight?” Vada asked, and you looked so happy that she did.

Once you stumbled through the door, you leaned in to kiss her instantly. Between wanting to kiss you back and suppressing moans, she told you to be quiet as you followed her upstairs, hand in hand. You failed, however, actually, both of you did, as your giggles trailed up the stairs and through the hallway. Vada would be lucky if only Mia heard you.

The day she left for the airport, you came over to say goodbye. You greeted the Reeds first, giving Philip and Andre big hugs, then turned to Mia to hug as well and kiss her on the forehead.

Vada waited in the backyard. She felt almost pathetic and needy for wanting you to come out here quicker. It won’t be the same.

“Andre gave me this to keep for my parents.”You held up a bottle of wine by the neck. “1983, nice.”

Your smile died down when you noticed her silence. “You got everything?”

She nodded. Wordlessly, she stepped forwards to wrap her arms around your frame. She thought she’d cry, but it was as if her brain was already actively shutting down trying to block out this memory to save her the future heartbreak.

You pressed her tightly against your chest and swayed her back and forth. Upon releasing her, you set down the bottle of wine next to your feet and took off your necklace.

“I want you to have this.” You opened her palm and neatly placed the jewelry inside. “That way, you won’t forget.”

How could you ever think that I would forget when I’m afraid I’ll never be able to let go of this summer?

“I wish we had more time,” Vada said.

“Bye, Cinderella.” Your eyes were glossy now.

The car door was wide open, waiting to take her away from you. For a split second, she considered dropping everything to stay.

She leaned in to kiss you once, deep and hard, “Bye, Y/N.” Then she walked away, the hummingbird clenched in her fist.

You followed her and watched her get in the car. You watched her close it with force and you watched her refuse to make eye contact with you, but you saw the way her lips trembled. You watched the car take her away from you and grazed the spot on your chest where the hummingbird was missing.

It was mid-July, the hottest day of the year, and yet, the ocean waves—blue as it gets—continued to crash against the shore, on and on and on.

[otakubimbo]

Hey! Can I request for an angst romance with the very first sentence prompt with Satoru? They break up but Satoru refuses to believe that it actually happened and that it was only a joke. Like, he is in denial about it.

Hi anon! You're my first official request so thank you! I hope I did this prompt justice for you. My heart hurts.

angsty romance prompt. "tell me it was a lie, tell me you're playing with me right now "

Warnings: None really, just angst and no happy ending, which yes is so unlike me but we ball! I didn't proof read cause it made me sad writing it.

“Tell me it was a lie. Tell me you’re playing with me right now!” Satoru’s voice was at a higher level than it should being at this café. The people around pretending not to be easy dropping on the conversation that you and the man across form you were having.

“Lower your voice, people are staring.” The hushed tone of your voice, attempting to not betray the facade you were putting on.  This wasn’t easy for you, breaking up with Satoru Gojo, if anything you were breaking your own heart.

“How do you expect me to react when my girlfriend brought me out to lunch to break up with me?!” His tone is harsh, in a way you have never heard before. You flinch at his abrasiveness, making him shrink back into his chair.

Satoru’s anger and disbelief confuse you. It was as if everyone saw the signs of this impending breakup but him. The relationship had been going downhill for some time now, how could he not see that? How could he not see what he was doing? How couldn’t he see what it was doing to you?

After a year and a half of dating, you told him, you told him you loved him and you meant it with every fiber of your soul. It had been six more months since then and he never said it back. You were understanding at first when he didn’t say it back, albeit hurt a little but you knew at least a little of his past and what he has gone through. You could understand that it may be hard for him to tell you he loved you, you knew he loved you because of the way he cared for you and that was enough.

Well, you thought it was enough. After your confession, Satoru didn’t immediately become distant, but it started with small things. He stopped texting you good morning and would only say good night. The small touches, the holding hands, and the comforting hugs became few and far between. Any time you brought it up, he would play it off like nothing was wrong, everything was fine. Then it became as if the two of you were barely even friends, it seemed he was always busy as if he never had time for you anymore. And it hurt, it hurt like hell and even then you kept pushing it off just hoping he would tell you what was going on behind those piercing blue eyes of his but he never did.

That’s what lead to today, the day of your 2 year anniversary. Truthfully, you hadn’t even planned on breaking up with him today but when you sat across from him in the same café that you had your first date at, his eyes never met yours. He didn’t hold your hand across the table, he didn’t kiss your forehead on his arrival, he wasn’t your Satoru.

You could feel the tears threatening to spill as you looked up at him, “Do you know what today is? Or why I asked you here”

His jaw tightened, “It’s Tuesday and I don’t know maybe because I’m your boyfriend and we go to this café a lot.”

Is this all a joke to you? Was he just a joke to you? He knows he hasn’t been the best boyfriend lately and that he’s been a bit distant but that wouldn’t make you break up with him. Would it? You were too kind, too patient, too pure for that, right?

“This is the café that we went to on our first date, two years ago.” You aren’t even facing him anymore when you say that, just reminiscing on a time when it felt as if you were just two kids in love. Satoru froze, not even realizing that he had forgotten. He had been trying so hard to keep you at an arm’s length after your confession that he had seemed to just push you away.  He didn’t even say anything as you turned to him, tears threatening to spill down your beautiful face at any single moment. What had he done?

“Do you even love me, Satoru?”

The question hung in the air, making his mouth go dry. He did, he loved you more than he should and that was the problem. His love for you scared him, you scared him. You didn’t know the power that you held over him; you made him weak. You were his weakness. But he was the strongest, he couldn’t afford a weakness, but he wasn’t strong enough to let you go either. Now here he was, unable to speak the words that have been written into his heart from the moment he saw you.

With a sad smile, you take his silence as your answer gathering your things and leaving you there. His heart shattered as he watched you leave out of the door, fading from his vision. Satoru’s worst fear came true, the strongest was defeated, the strongest was broken by you and it was all his own fault.

[bumblinv]

--- 𝙙𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 !

daily life as a part of the phantom thieves

contents akira, ann, yusuke, makoto, futaba x gn!reader

forgetting to bring an umbrella in a rainy day means arriving home soaked, cause you and ryuji both ran through the rain. his blazer he used to shield you both barely keeping any of you dry

imagine teaching makoto how to gossip cause missgirl doesn't understand the fun of it

thinking of bonding with futaba by beating minecraft together. you two got the ender dragon down after just 10 hours of gameplay, with full on enchanted diamond armors and swords. she had done this countless time you dont have to worry about a damn thing

yusuke takes modern art seriously, like he would shot ryuji an offended look if he laugh or talk about how ridiculous any of it looks

at some point of time, after they got back from the nastiest, stinkiest, most shitty smelling part of mementos, akira would bathe morgana despite his protests. he doesn't want any of that on his bed

yusuke lets his brushes marinate in a jar of water for months

window shopping with ann... imagine going through the entire mall for hours without actually buying anything and ending the day at her favourite crepe place

ryuji loosing banks cause everyone keeps beating his ass at mario kart 😭😭

try encouraging makoto to open up more. despite her being the best listener, she never really got anyone to share her thoughts and stories to

i know futaba is that one person ordering nuggets and fries when the rest are having boiled seafood

despite people viewing him badly cause he got a criminal record, akira still attracts many chicks at school and he knows

ryuji was the famous class clown, but everything went downhill for him after the track team incident

i can see makoto being the mother of the group, making sure everyone is well fed and will heal everyone's injuries when infiltrating palaces. her scolding would rip through the air everytime someone does something reckless

[stormyelliotwritez]

Could you write a hobie x male spider man reader who got kicked out, and since Hobie and them were friends before, Hobie offered to let Y/N stay at his flat, which is how Y/N is able to steal all of Hobie’s clothes, and really anything that fits him..

If u could pls and tyy!!

YES I CAN AND I DID (i'm not quite sure if it's exactly what you wanted so feel free to send in another request to get more of what you wanted)

FICLET UNDER CUT

It had been a normal day, and everything was going good. Then it all went downhill. Y/N’s parents kicked him out. All he was able to grab was his suit and a backpack before they threw him out with nowhere to go, well he had one place to go.

So that’s why he’s now on Hobie’s front doorstep with his suit in one hand, backpack in the other and his watch flat.

Hobie opened the door and stared at him. He raised his eyebrow and opened the door wider. Y/N walked inside and dropped his bag and suit on the floor.

“What happened, luv?” Hobie asked quietly as he closed the door.

He ushered Y/N into the dining room and sat him down on a chair and then sat on the table. He took the other boy’s hands in his and smiled softly.

“Luv, you gotta tell me what happened.”

Y/N glanced down at the ground and then back up at Hobie. He smiled awkwardly.

“My parents,” he looked back down at the floor, “they kicked me out.”

Hobie’s eyes softened, and he traced circles on Y/N’s wrists. “So, you’ve got nowhere else to go?”

Y/N nodded as he looked back up at Hobie. “I used up my watch’s energy to get here.”

Hobie nodded before speaking again. “The backpack and suits all you got?”

Y/N nodded. Hobie stood up and wandered over to his bright blue couch and grabbed a hoodie. He turned around and threw it at his friend.

“You can stay here but London’s cold, you muppet,” he said affectionately.

Y/N caught it and smiled. “Thanks, punk.”

A few days later, Hobie was looking around his apartment for his leather jacket. He looked in his wardrobe where it should have been and then he dug through the dirty washing. He threw blankets off the couch and pillows all over the apartment. He searched through the whole apartment before hearing the front door open. He slid to the front and his jaw dropped.

Y/N was wearing his jacket.

He burst out laughing and leaned against the wall. He slid down it and couldn’t even talk. Y/N walked up to him and leaned over as he placed the grocery bag on the floor. He stared at Hobie for a moment before cracking a smile.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked curiously.

Hobie sat up straighter and tried to stop laughing. It didn’t work.

“You’re wearing my jacket,” he sputtered through laughter.

Y/N looked down at the jacket and raised an eyebrow. “You’re weird, Hobie,” he chuckled.

Hobie smiled. “So are you, muppet.”

Hobie stood up and helped Y/N take the bags into the kitchen. He pulled out ingredients for dinner and got started. They had dinner and shared meaningful glances and joked about Y/N stealing all his clothes.

A few weeks later, Hobie was rushing around to get ready for a gig. He ran around the house just like a few weeks before and looked in all the usual places. He checked the wardrobe for his vest and didn’t find it. He checked the pile on the chair for his jeans, but they weren’t there. He checked the laundry basket for one of his many shirts and most of them were there but then he remembered why they were. Ew.

He thought to try and find his boots when he heard stomping. He sighed and slid to Y/N’s bedroom or well the spare room he had that had turned into Y/N’s bedroom. He opened the door and was bombarded with loud rock music and the bright colourful lights he’d stolen for Y/N.

“Muppet?” he chuckled as he leaned in the doorway and crossed his arms.

Y/N turned around, and they were in his full gig get up. He smiled awkwardly at Hobie.

“Hi. Do you have a gig?” He asked nervously.

“Yeah, get changed. You said you’d come actually,” Hobie laughed.

Y/N’s eyes widened, and he slammed the door shut. He got undressed in record time and opened the door. He shoved Hobie’s clothes into his arms. He then closed it again and got dressed into his own clothes. He then opened the door again and found Hobie at the front door.

“Let’s go,” he smiled.

Hobie smiled back and picked up his guitar case.

“Yeah, let’s go, muppet.”

[iamvegorott]

Change of Life

So I decided to hop on the Vampire Jackie trend real quick This is an angsty one~

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Change of Life

Jackie felt…cold? Was he cold? He was shivering, body trembling against his will. Was he actually cold? Something about his everything was wrong. 

He was also so hungry. He was starving, but it didn’t matter how much food he ate it was never enough. Eating to the point of illness and still feeling so empty and weak. He was getting angry cause of the hunger, lashing out at those he cared for, and it hurt to see himself like that. 

Jackie needed answers, needed to figure himself out and get away before he went too far. 

He curled up into a tighter ball. The dark alley that hid his body only had the sounds of passing by cars. Jackie failed at trying to find answers almost immediately. The sun had been too bright, making it almost impossible to see, and he’d been cowering in the alley for hours, too scared to leave his spot. 

The others had to be looking for him by now, and that made his heart ache even more at the thought of them worrying about him. He was the hero. He took care of the others. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. 

How did he even get here? Ever since that weird guy attacked him, it’s been downhill from there. Jackie was just trying to get wood for some project Marvin was working on. He never questioned what that man was creating, he was just excited to be helpful and went looking for some sticks that matched the little list of requirements he had been given. A little side quest, he thought of it as. It gave him an excuse to go out and check out the little forest near their home. Admittedly, it was much later into the night than it should have been for him to be exploring since they had heard howls before, but Jackie was brave and strong. Even if something came after him, he’d be fine.

But something did come after him.

And it wasn’t a coyote.

It was a man. 

 A really weird man. A man who tried to grab his neck and instead bit down on Jackie’s arm when he broke free. The man didn’t seem to expect Jackie to fight back the way he did since he simply stood there as he ran back home.

Jackie rolled up the sleeve of his hoodie, looking at the two puncture wounds on his arm. He tried to figure out how the bite left the mark that it did. They were red and sore to the touch. Jackie knew he should have told the others about it and gotten them looked at, but that would have caused so much worry, and Jackie would never be allowed to go out alone again. However, he might be losing the privilege regardless, given his current choices. 

“Shit.” Jackie cursed when he pressed too hard on the mark, and it sent a jolt of pain through his arm, almost like a quick zap of electricity. “Man…I think I messed up.” He hugged his knees to his chest, telling himself he should get up and go, but he couldn’t. He needed something and had no idea what that need was for. “Oh, not now.” Jackie groaned when he heard voices coming down the alley. He really didn’t want to deal with people. A rarity for him, so that meant he really didn’t want people around him. 

“Leave me alone!” One of the voices stood out, filled with fear. “Help! Someone help!” Jackie quickly scrambled to his feet, unable to stop himself from running over. “Help!” He saw a young man being held by two others, a third digging through a backpack, tearing out books and papers from it. 

“Would you shut up!?” One of the men snapped, yanking on the smaller man’s arm and getting him to yelp in pain. 

“Hey! Stop!” Jackie felt a voice in the back of his head yelling at him that this was a bad idea. Standing alone took so much effort from his body. He was weak and hungry. Nothing was right, and a fight should be the last thing on his mind. 

“Buzz of kid, don’t try being a hero.” The man with the bag scoffed. 

“I’m not trying. I am a hero.” Jackie puffed his chest out, trying to appear tough despite the hollow feeling behind his eyes. 

“This is annoying.” The man stood up, pulling a pocket knife out. “You don’t want to get involved in this, alright? It’s none of your business. Just go home and let us do our work.” 

“Yeah, no.” Jackie took a step forward and watched as the man reacted.

The world felt slower.

The knife went toward him, and he simply swiped it aside, like knocking away a cobweb. He took another step and threw a punch, fist connecting with the man’s nose. He could hear and feel the cracking of it. 

“Holy shit!” One of the other men yelled. Jackie’s eyes widened as the man he punched held his face, blood gushing from his shattered nose, seeping between his fingers. He didn’t mean to hit him that hard. It was just supposed to be a quick jab. 

“I…” Jackie looked at his hand, blood on his fist. 

Red… dripping…blood.

Jackie thickly swallowed. The scent was so…oh it was so good. Tempting. Alluring. 

A new ache was beginning to form in his mouth, and he didn’t care. Jackie brought his hand to his mouth and dragged his tongue along it. That rich iron taste of blood felt like a blessing, just barely scratching at satisfying his need. 

“Dude! The hell!?” Jackie heard the shout. Heard the disgust in their voice, but he didn’t hear them. He didn’t hear anything anymore. Didn’t hear the screams, didn’t hear the cries of fear and comments on his body. All he could focus on was the blood. That sweet, delicious, precious blood that was going to waste as it fell to the ground. 

Jackie’s body started moving on its own, sights only on the man bleeding. Newfound instincts took over as he caught the man, tearing at the collar of his shirt to expose more of his neck. He could see the pulsing of the vein, knowing that more blood was hiding from him and that all he had to do was-

Jackie bit down, sinking fangs into the flesh, popping through and opening the thick vein, and allowing mouthful after mouthful of blood to be sucked out. Each swallow filled Jackie with a comforting warmth, holding him, embracing him, finally getting that need to calm down, to give him back his strength. 

The man could only cry, helplessly punching at Jackie, begging, pleading to be let go. But he was trapped, hits getting weaker and weaker, and Jackie drank and drank and drank. 

Until there was nothing left. 

Nothing more came out. 

He was dry. 

Jackie dropped the body and gasped for air he didn’t need anymore. 

He swallowed the lingering taste on his tongue, and as he calmed, reality sank in. 

“S-Sir?” Jackie squeaked out. “Sir…are you…sir?” He saw the emptiness in the man’s eyes…in the corpse’s eyes. “I…did I…” 

His hands were caked in blood. He could feel it rolling down his chin and neck, soaking the collar of his hoodie. Jackie took a step back, believing that something was squeezing his throat with how tight his chest was. 

“N-No…No, I-I didn’t…I…” Jackie fumbled and fell back, eyes never leaving the body. “Sir?” He tried despite knowing the truth. “Sir, please. Sir, get up.” 

If the man moved, then it didn’t happen, right?

He didn’t-

He didn’t kill him…

Right?

“Jackie! Jackie!” Chase’s voice called from further away, searching for his friend. “Jackie!” 

“I-I was…I was just hungry.” Jackie whispered to himself. “I…please…please.” He didn’t know who he was begging to. He just wanted someone, anyone, to listen. To help him. 

“Jackie!” Chase’s voice was louder, getting closer as he finally found him. “Jackie are-oh, fuck!” He shouted at seeing the body. 

“Ch-Chase?” Jackie looked up, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I didn’t...I didn’t mean to.” 

“Fucking hell, Jackie.” Chase breathed out, not knowing what else to say yet. “Fucking hell.” He repeated and crouched down. “Are you hurt?” He asked, noticing the blood on him. “You…dude.” Chase’s thoughts shifted when he saw the red in Jackie’s eyes and the fangs stabbing into his lower lip. 

“Help.” Jackie’s voice cracked, and he wrapped his arms around Chase, hugging him and trying to hide from what he’d done. From the life he took. “I couldn’t-I couldn’t stop.” His explanation was muffled, body shaking like before but from his own sobs this time. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t. I-I swear. I swear I didn’t.” 

“It’s okay, man, it’s okay.” Chase hugged Jackie back, glancing over at the body before quickly looking away. “We’ll get this figured out. We’ll call the others.” 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Jackie continued his cries. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”