#dipping back into au stuff while on summer break

[gems-of-jungle-moon]

What Nexus, fulcrum and gem mimic mean in your AU?

[harringtown]

steve harrington must die - pt 1

did it take me an eternity to finish part 1? yes. but we did it pals!!! welcome to the john tucker must die au!!! right now I've got this plotted at four parts & it'll kinda follow along the s3 timeline!!! 

requested by @la-fille-en-aiguilles​

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: three of Steve Harrington’s exes set up their former boyfriend to fall in love with the reader, so they can break his heart (aka introductions, general set up, and a laser tag date) 

word count: 4.6k

-

During June in Indiana, there are only a handful of places to escape from the sweltering heat and near-constant dampness that comes along with it. If you’re committed enough and make it to the pool before the crowds descend, a lawn chair in the shade and a dip in the water. If you’re quiet enough, the library’s AC spends its summers rattling and cranking out cool-but-not-cold air.

The best, though, is Starcourt Mall. With its shiny new fixings and fancy appliances, walking into the mall always feels like stepping onto another planet. One where the sun doesn’t declare war on its people during the summers.

Three days into June, and the heat is already unbearable. As such, you spent most of May in the food court or browsing the stores or simply lying on the benches with your friends to avoid going back outside. June, July, and August are looking the same.

Having a mall is already an oddity. The girls you occupy your time with while you’re at the mall is even more odd.

You’d always heard things changed after graduation. You didn’t believe it until now, sitting around bright white food court tables with three girls you wouldn't have been caught dead with in high school, and vice versa. Social circles ran tight at Hawkins High, and it wasn’t until you were all released that you saw them for what they truly were. Or, more technically, until you got stuck in the Starcourt Mall elevator for two hours with them on your first day of summer vacation and came out fast friends.

“Alright, what are our options today, ladies?” Rebecca asks. In high school, she was class president and head of pretty much every club. Today, she stares intently at the food court signs like they’ll change out of her sheer will.

“Exactly the same as yesterday,” says Theresa-call-me-Thea, kicking her shin-high slouched leather boots up onto the plastic table. To her right, Beth swipes her smoothie out of the way just in time to keep it from going flying and shoots Thea a glare.

“We’ve got hot dogs, pretzels, burger king, and the great cookie. Not a single healthy option,” Beth says. Once a star athlete at Hawkins High, her few months of graduation hadn’t yet shaken its hold. Beth is always dressed like she’s heading to a workout or just came from one.

“Don’t even talk to me about the great cookie,” Thea groans. “If I eat another, I will combust.”

“We could just get ice cream,” you say. In over a month’s worth of rotations, Scoops Ahoy hasn’t been factored in once. The girls practically act like it doesn’t exist and have for so long you forgot to question it. “We never do, and that sundae always looks ridiculously good.”

All three girls protest at once.

“Absolutely not,” Rebecca says.

“Not a goddamn chance,” Thea says.

“No way,” says Beth.

You frown, sneaking a glance at the Scoops Ahoy counter. Apart from a manager you’ve only seen once or twice, the only consistent employees are a girl from the year beneath you, and Steve Harrington, once the alleged King of Hawkins High, who now spends his days scooping cones for tweens. Unless there was some rumor about rats in the kitchen, you don’t see any reason for boycotting what is clearly a popular spot.

“What do you people have against ice cream?” you ask.

One side of Beth’s mouth curls up, but the others aren’t impressed.

“Ice cream? Love the stuff. Can’t get enough of it,” Thea says.

“Steve Harrington, on the other hand?” says Rebecca. She shakes her head.

Thea scoffs and folds her arms over her chest. Her bracelets jangle and clack. “That’s one prom photo I will never get back.”

“Homecoming,” Beth says.

“Spring Fling,” Rebecca says with a snort.

“Wait, all three of you—” You start.

“Three months in ‘82,” Thea says, jabbing a finger at Rebecca. “Four at the beginning of ‘83.” She points to Beth. “And a whopping four and a half after that.” She gestures to herself.

“And still breaking hearts from the looks of it,” Beth says.

At the Scoops Ahoy counter, Steve has an exaggerated grin as he talks to two girls as he rings them up. You may not be able to hear the flirting, but you don’t need to.

“Friggin’ Casanova.” Thea huffs. “I mean, I get it, we all get a little too caught up in a boy with cute hair at some point, but Jesus. You’d think he’d run out of girls to work his act on by now.”

“He’ll get his,” Rebecca says. “Just you wait. One day, a girl is going to come along and rip his heart into pieces, just like he did to us. And he won’t even see it coming.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Thea says.

“Ditto,” says Beth.

A silent second passes, and then, three pairs of eyes slide to you.

A wide, mischievous grin pulls on Thea’s dark-red stained lips. “Is anyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

Beth frowns. “Oh, I don’t know about that—”

“Absolutely I am,” Rebecca says.

“Oh, come on, Beth,” Thea says, reaching over to tap on Beth’s wrist. “You can’t tell me you haven’t secretly wished to see that boy get knocked off his high horse for years.”

Beth frowns. “I mean, yes, but—”

“Yeah, so I’m not thinking what you’re thinking,” you say, “and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me it's not possible,” Thea says, leaning over the table to stare at Beth. Beth, with visible irritation, rolls her eyes and turns to Rebecca.

“Do not encourage this,” Beth says.

“Encourage what?” you ask. “Seriously, if someone doesn’t start talking, I’m going up to the Scoops Ahoy counter and telling Steve Harrington you all want a sundae delivered right to the table by him, personally.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Thea says.

Beth leans her forearms into the table, nudging Thea’s boots aside.

“They’re talking about getting even,” Beth says. “Breaking Steve Harrington’s heart and using you to do it.”

“Using is such a negative word,” Thea says.

“We could do it, though,” Rebecca says. “The three of us combined, we know him better than anyone. What he likes, what he doesn’t. We could make the perfect girl. Or, perfect for Steve Harrington.”

“That’s insane,” you say.  “If it were someone else—If I were someone else—maybe, but...”

“You’re pretty much the only one who can do it,” Rebecca says. “You’re our very own trojan horse.”

“Weren’t you the one who was complaining about being bored out of their mind?” Thea asked. “Having nothing to do?” The excitement in her voice is persuasive in itself. It’s one of the things you like best about Thea. To her, anything is an adventure to embark on or a mystery to solve. “Think about it. You’d go down in Hawkins history.”

“She’s exaggerating,” Beth says. She purses her lips. “But she’s not wrong.”

“Aha!” Thea claps once. “And we’ve swayed the jury, ladies and germs.”

“It’s not up to me,” Beth says. “It’s up to you.” Beth nods at you.

“So?” Thea asks. She props her elbows on the table and leans her chin into her hands, waggling her dark brows. “Are you in? Tell me you’re in.”

You look between them.

Without a mission, albeit stupid, ridiculous, and destined to fail, the rest of the summer will be just like it has been. Every day as boring and uneventful as the last.

And maybe breaking Steve Harrington’s heart won’t put you in the history books. But it is something, and clearly, it’s important to the girls.

“I’m in,” you say.

-

And so, after three days of surprisingly intense preparation by Thea, Beth, and Rebecca, you don’t head to the usual spot to meet up with the girls. Instead, you make your way through the crowded food court—the lunch rush is in full swing, and you swear half the town is in line for shriveled corn dogs or oily pizza.

Steve Harrington stands at the ice cream counter, just like he does every day.

Back in school, your familiarity with him was more of a know-of-him type. The first two and a half years, his name carried through the halls daily. Then Billy Hargrove moved to town. One day the boys came to school with bright bruises and fresh cuts, and in an instant Billy’s name climbed above Steve’s.

After that, you didn’t hear much about Steve Harrington.

Only a few customers are waiting at the ice cream counter, and within two minutes, it’s your turn at the front.

“Be with you in a sec!” Steve calls, momentarily busy wiping up the melted sample someone spilled on the ice cream case.

He is immediately not what you expected, though the uniform doesn’t help. The bright blue sailors uniform and clunky white hat aren’t exactly doing him any favors in upholding his reputation. He looks more like the boy next door than the king of Hawkins High.

He doesn’t look as perfect as he once did, either. His nose has clearly been broken, probably more than once, and a handful of little scars catch in the fluorescent lights.

“Sorry about that,” Steve says, tossing the blue-stained napkins into the trash and turning to face you. “I swear, some of these kids were raised by actual wolves—” He stops as his eyes catch yours, mouth open mid-sentence like someone reached in and plucked the words out. He clears his throat, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he might be blushing. “What can I get ya?”

Your heart races, and not for the first time, you wonder if you’re even capable of this. If you’re the right choice for this little mission. But you’re at the counter, so there’s no turning back now.

“Can I get a scoop of the U.S.S. Butterscotch?” you ask, willing your voice not to waver. “Apparently it’s the best ice cream in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s out of this world,” Steve says.

Steve isn’t the only one surprised when you laugh—you’re surprised, too. Surprised that he made such a dorky joke, and surprised that it’s actually kind of funny.

“Don’t hype it up too much,” you say. “Your tip depends on it.”

Steve snorts a laugh. A line forms between his brows. He tugs an ice cream scooper out of his pocket and flips it over his wrist—a mindless action that, weirdly, grabs your attention and holds it. Holds it tight enough you don’t hear what he says next, and ask, “What?” far too loud.

A lopsided grin forms on his lips. “I know you,” he repeats.

You frown. Shit. It figures. Three minutes into the con, and your cover is already broken.

“Miss Harrison’s class. Senior year.”

Relief pushes a breath out of you, and you force a nervous smile—the nerves don’t need to be faked.

“I can’t believe you remember me,” you say.

He shifts back a bit, still smiling, like he’s shocked you’re even asking.

“Of course, I remember you. You sat right in front of me. I spent a year staring at the back of your head.”

“So, if I’d have walked up backwards, you’d have recognized me immediately?”

“Oh, no doubt,” Steve says.

You laugh, and though you know you’re supposed to, you don’t have to fake it. Steve laughs, too, and when the laughter fades, the pair of you just smile at each other for a little too long.

“Hey! Harrington! We have ice cream needs back here!” A young girl with her friends sidles up beside you, apparently familiar with Steve or just confident, or both.

Steve takes a breath and gives you an expression that makes it seem like you’re both in on some inside joke. It’s almost impressive how quickly he managed to turn you from strangers into allies.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, Sinclair. You’ll get your ice cream. Hold your damn horses,” Steve calls. He gives you an apologetic smile. “That’ll be $1.25.”

You nod, digging a bill and a quarter out of your pocket and handing it over. Steve’s fingers brush yours as he takes the money, and it feels like a moment right out of those cheesy films Rebecca is obsessed with, but your heart skips a beat anyway.

Steve tucks the money into the register and holds out a receipt.

Before you lose your nerve, you ask, “Do you have a pen?”

Steve frowns but digs a pen out of his pocket and passes it to you. He says nothing, but as you scrawl the digits onto the paper, his eyes go wide.

“What is—” He starts.

“My number,” you say, shoving the receipt back across the counter. You flash a smile. “You should use it.”

His frown deepens, and then, in an instant, transforms into a smile that even manages to convince you, at least for a moment, of its genuineness. Before you do something stupid, like fall for it, you turn and walk away, heart still pounding against your ribs.

-

“Well, well, well, Popeye,” Robin announces as she shoves open the flimsy divider between the front and back of the shop. She slaps her whiteboard on the counter, uncapping her pen. “I think you just earned yourself the first tally for this side of the board.”

Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing the receipt—your receipt—from the counter and tucking it gently in his pocket.

“Thank you, captain obvious,” he says, and hopes Robin can’t tell he’s blushing.

To his infinite relief, Robin only teases him about it for a few minutes, and the lunch rush saves him. He spends the rest of his shift thinking about the two minutes you stood at the counter.

It feels different. It feels like, maybe, finally, it might be real.  

-

“Steve Harrington has officially taken the bait, ” Thea says, throwing herself onto Beth’s bed. Beth, sitting against the headboard, draws her legs out of the way just in time to prevent Thea slamming into them. She purses her lips but doesn’t chide Thea.

Rebecca slides across the floor on the rolling desk chair, leaning her arms over the back of it. “Where’s he taking you?”

You take the open spot at the end of Beth’s bed, pulling your legs up under you. “No clue. He said it was a surprise.” You cock a brow. “What are the chances he’s taking me somewhere to murder me?”

Thea snorts. “He may be a lady-killer, but he’s not an actual killer.”

“Never say lady-killer again,” Rebecca says.

“Lady-killer.” Thea grins. “Lady—”

Beth reaches down to swat at Thea’s shoulder. Thea laughs, craning away.

“Focus,” Beth says. “Y/N is going into the lion’s den tonight.”

You frown. So far, Steve Harrington isn’t the playboy he’s been made out to be. To be fair, you’ve only had two interactions with the boy since high school. And the girls actually knew him.

“He’s just a guy,” you say.

“A guy who probably doesn’t know how to do his own laundry,” Rebecca says.

Thea lets out a dramatic sigh. “Those are always the most dangerous ones.”

-

Steve doesn’t take you into the lion’s den. He still won't tell you exactly where you’re going, but when he pulls into the parking lot of a decent restaurant, some of your fear dissipates.

“Italian food?” you ask, as he puts the car in park.

He flashes you a grin, and says, “Someone’s impatient.”

“More like, making sure you’re not kidnapping me.”

He snorts. “I don’t think it’s kidnapping if you’re 18.” He arches a brow at you. “And do you really think I’m organized enough to pull something like that off?” He shakes his head. “Besides, my trunk is way too small.”

“I mean, no, I don’t think you are—“

Steve feigns offense, a hand flying to his chest, and he gasps.

“But I’d be stupid to put it past you.”

To your surprise, Steve just smiles.

“For the record,” he says, popping open the driver’s side door, “we’re not getting Italian food. And I’m not kidnapping you.” He slides out of the car and shuts his door, but before you’ve even undone your seatbelt, Steve is opening the passenger side door for you.

You know it’s all part of the act, but there’s nothing in his eyes that justifies that. All you can see is a bouncy, nervous boy opening the door for his date.

He’s more dangerous than you realized, because he doesn’t appear to be.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you climb out of the car, Steve nudging the door shut after you.

“So, if we’re not getting Italian food, what exactly are we doing here?” you ask.

A mischievous grin pulls on his lips.

“We,” he says, “are playing laser tag.”

And against your better judgment, against everything you told yourself before going into this, you smile back.

-

The laser tag place, appropriately named Laser Tron, is busier than one might expect on a random Thursday night, and apart from you and Steve, no one is older than fourteen.

And though the teams are split evenly before heading into the room, the second you pass through the door, it becomes two on everyone else, with the younger kids splitting off to one side of the dark, neon-splashed room, and you and Steve heading for the other side.

The room has two stories, with dozens of walls and objects to hide behind, and green, pink, and blue paint scattered across the walls and floors. You’re sporting a bulky, worn vest, and a massive plastic gun, and once again, despite all your preparations, you’re surprised to find you’re already having fun. Steve helps you into your vest, and his fingers linger at the top of the zipper, thumbs grazing the hollow of your throat, and you try and convince yourself it’s adrenaline, not him, that makes your pulse leap.

With one minute until the game begins, you and Steve find a spot in the far corner, back to back.

“You ready for this?” Steve asks, his shoulders bumping yours. You can hear the smile in his voice.

“I think I’d prefer Italian food,” you say.

Steve snorts a laugh, and says, “Too late for that now.”

“You do realize we’re, like, the oldest people here, right?”

“Which means we’ve got the advantage,” Steve says.

“Us against fifteen pre-teens? I don’t know about that.” You raise your laser gun in preparation. “I think we’re screwed.”

Steve laughs again, and it’s an infectious sound. His energy, the shifting weight and fast breaths, is infectious, and again, you forget the whole reason you’re here.

“We’ll see about that,” he says.

Then the buzzer starts, a dozen children scream with delight, and the game begins.

-

“Go, go, go!” Steve yells, his gun in one hand, your fingers held tight in the other. You race up the stairs with him, twisting to fire a laser shot toward the trio of twelve year old’s pursuing you.

An OUT buzzer rings, and one of the kids curses just as you and Steve reach the top of the stairs. He pulls you sideways, down the neon walkway, firing as he goes.

“Behind you!” You say, ducking under Steve’s raised arm to fire at the teen coming down the hall. His buzzer rings, and he groans, his gun smacking his side.

Steve drags you behind a wall, and you skid, falling into him, pinning him against the wood. The only thing between you is the thick fabric of the vests, but you can feel his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Time slows. His eyes find yours, and his irises are blown, and the crown of his hair shines with sweat, and his gaze darts down to your lips, and for a moment, you’re sure he’s going to kiss you. For a moment, you want him to.

Then his eyes dart over your shoulder, and in one swift motion, he slips an arm around your waist, spins you around, presses you against the wall, and raises his gun to fire at someone around the corner. A buzzer rings, and Steve catches your gaze again, grinning lopsidedly.

You let out a harsh breath, and push out of his arms, pretending you’re adjusting your vest.

“How many are left?” you ask.

Steve leans to each side, scanning the aisles and the floor below, his brows furrowed.

“I wanna say… six? Maybe seven?”

“God, it’s like they’re multiplying,” you say.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up,” he says.

“Not a chance.”

“Good,” Steve says. “Because we’ve got three pre-teen girls headed our way, and they look pretty pissed.”

“Guess we should do something about that,” you say.

Steve grins, and takes your hand, and you let him. And for a little while, you forget why you’re not supposed to.

-

The game lasts another twenty minutes, and to your utter shock, you and Steve’s duo comes out on top. And you know you should probably feel bad about kicking a bunch of thirteen year old’s asses, but as you and Steve head out into the warm night, all you feel is giddy. Like you’re drunk, but you haven’t had a touch of alcohol.

Steve has an arm around your shoulder, and he smells like sandalwood and aftershave, and in the moonlight, he doesn’t look like everything you’ve been told he is. The last hour, and he’s been nothing like you’ve been told he is.

He only lets you go to open the passenger door for you, and though you tell yourself this is only part of the game, you still blush as he shuts it after you. Blush until he comes around the front and climbs into the driver’s seat.

You don’t realize you’re staring at him until he frowns, and asks, “What?”

You shake your head. “How the hell are you so good at that?”

An almost sheepish smile flashes across his lips.

“I mean, they were a bunch of kids. We got lucky.”

“Oh, no, we absolutely did not,” you say. “That was… incredible. Like, you have no right to be as good at laser tag as you are.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” he says. And when you roll your eyes, he continues, “Seriously. You kicked ass in there.”

“You did most of the work. What, were you a soldier in some past life?”

An indecipherable emotion flickers across his face, and you can’t begin to read it, but it makes your insides ache, opens some unknown door in your chest. It feels like seeing behind some big curtain, but before you can identify what you see, Steve is smiling again, and turning on the engine.

It’s a clear and unofficial end of conversation, but you don’t mind. With each foot the car pulls away from the plaza, your friends' voices pop back into your head. The stories they told of the weeks or months it took to get over him.

Shame coils in your gut, hot and sharp.

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe you’re the wrong person to do this. Maybe you have no goddamn clue what you’re doing, and you’re just going to get hurt.

But as Steve pulls out of the parking lot and back onto the road, tossing a soft smile your way, you realize that maybe none of that matters. Because maybe it’s too late.

-

Steve makes conversation as he drives you home, asking questions about your summer and your family and your pets and your future plans, and he seems to actually want to know the answers.

And you surprise yourself by asking questions back. About how he ended up working at Scoops (his dad is an asshole, and Steve didn’t get into college) and about the girl, Robin, he’s always with (from the way he talks about her, you don’t think there’s anything romantic there, but you’re not sure) and about what he wants to do with his life (he has no clue, which is an odd relief, because you have no clue, either).

It’s all painfully and beautifully normal until Steve turns into your neighborhood, and the car slides past the Holland house. It’s been two years since Barbara Holland disappeared from Steve’s backyard. Two years since the cops started looking, and a year since they stopped.

The car slows down just enough for you to notice, and when you look over, Steve has the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. His gaze is locked on the house.

Your brain rifles through everything it has regarding Barbara Holland in relation to Steve Harrington. Barbara and Nancy Wheeler were attached at the hip for most of high school, and when Nancy and Steve started dating, that didn’t change.

“You were friends with her, right?” you ask, knowing you’re poking the bear, and unable to stop yourself.

“What?” His response comes a little too fast, and his voice is a little too high.

“With Barb. Before she…” You clear your throat.

“No,” Steve says. “I wasn’t.” And his tone is harsh, a clear ending to the conversation before it even starts.

“But I thought—”

“I said no,” Steve snaps. “Just… drop it.” He rakes a hand through his hair, and his entropy changes. He is rigid and cold. He’s not the boy from the laser tag place, the one who opened your door for you.

The spell that’s been broken doesn’t rise again, and the last two minutes of the drive to your house are silent and awkward. By the time Steve pulls into your driveway, the tension in the car is so thick, you could slice through it.

Steve kills the engine and is out of the car and opening your door before you have your seatbelt undone, once again. But he doesn’t meet your eyes, and his jaw is clenched, and he doesn’t put his arm around you again. He walks to your door, and when you turn to face him, his smile is so plastic, you think it would crinkle if he moved.

“That was fun,” you say, because you’re not sure what to do with the silence, because you’re desperate to fill the seconds until you can get inside the door.

“Yeah, it was,” Steve says. You don’t have to know him that well to see he’s distracted. He glances over his shoulder as if he expects to find something running up behind him. He catches your eye again, clearing his throat. “Have a good night, y/n.”

And then he’s turning, heading back down the drive, climbing into his car. He’s gone so fast, you can do nothing but stand on the porch and watch as his car grows smaller and smaller, until it turns down the street and disappears.

Your stomach churns and lurches as you unlock your front door and slip into the dark house. To your eternal relief, your family is already in bed, and you don’t have to suffer the third degree. You’re already guaranteed it from the girls at the mall tomorrow.

You had fun with Steve tonight. A lot of fun. More fun than you’ll ever admit to Beth, Thea, and Rebecca.

But the Steve that dropped you off is different from the one you spent the night with, and he is the whole reason you’re here in the first place. The cruel, cold tone. The refusal to meet your eyes, like he’s too good to do so. The flippancy with which he left, like he hadn’t just taken you on the best date of your life.

You’re here to break Steve Harrington’s heart.

No, not to break it. You’re here to shatter it. Pulverize it. Break it beyond repair, the way he’s done to so many girls.

Game on, Harrington.

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[bbygirldahyun]

cheer au nayeon finding out dahyun cant swim so she teaches her 🥺

dahyun went to one, singular swimming lesson as a child.

she’d been eager to go, around four years old and still with a bright curiosity for the world in her own, cautious way.

despite it being loud, and there being several other kids she didn’t know, and her being left alone with the swimming instructor while her parents went somewhere else for an hour, she tried to keep her excitement.

and it was fine, really, until the instructor started their first lesson — sticking the mouth and nose under the water to blow bubbles.

the sensation of her face under the water was awful, dahyun too young to have the words to communicate what exactly about it was upsetting her, instead just flat out refusing to do it and breaking down in tears.

so she’d sat at the side of the pool for the rest of the lesson, sniffling and hiccuping watching all the other kids blow bubbles in the water, and she never went back to swimming lessons after that.

into her adolescence, she knew it was odd to say the least that she still didn’t know how to swim, but that memory of her first swimming lesson lingered in her mind, not to mention her already ever present insecurities over her body.

so she never learned, never going to the community pool during the summers as many other students at their school did, not that she’d really want to anyways.

swimming never really came up, that is until she started dating nayeon, who’s family has a pool in the backyard.

nayeon has invited dahyun to swim several times, whether it be a warm day she, sana, and mina are already in the pool and she’d text dahyun to ask if she wanted to join or at one of their sleepovers offering they can go swim if dahyun wants.

dahyun always declines, and nayeon doesn’t push, forever assuming it’s an insecurity thing. she knows dahyun struggles with her self image and she doesn’t want to put any pressure on her to do something like wearing a bathing suit when it could make her feel bad about herself.

but dahyun wants to swim, for the first time in her life wishing she’d stuck it out at swim lessons so she wouldn’t have to embarrassingly admit she doesn’t know how, even now.

“maybe we could go down to the pool and um...you can swim and i’ll just sit at the edge,” dahyun suggests one day. “dip my feet in.”

nayeon gives her a slightly questioning look. “you don’t wanna get in with me?”

dahyun shifts nervously, the admission on the tip of her tongue, eyes on her own lap when she mumbles, “i-i...i can’t swim.”

understanding washes over nayeon’s face. “that’s okay, baby. i can teach you,” she says instantly.

“really? you’d do that?” dahyun asks in awe, and nayeon smiles.

“of course! swimming is really fun, and it’s not hard to learn,” she grins brightly. “you’re so smart i’m sure you’ll get it easy.”

so she leads down to their deck, gently helping dahyun down the steps into the pool, holding her hand. for awhile they stay in the shallow water where they can still touch, just getting accustomed to it.

“did you not grow up swimming?” nayeon asks to make conversation.

“i went to one lesson and hated it,” dahyun sighs. “i cried until i went home, so my parents never bothered to take me back. said i embarassed them.”

nayeon nods, understanding, hating that nobody was patient enough with dahyun to help her learn in her own way, at her own pace.

“well it’s never too late to learn,” nayeon tells her confidently. “you’ve helped me so much with school stuff, it’s the least i can do.”

dahyun comes to find she enjoys swimming, when it’s nayeon guiding her, showing her how to tread and to doggy paddle and telling her she never had to go under the water if she doesn’t want to, or she could try ear plugs and a pinching her nose to keep the water from bugging her.

she feels so proud of herself when she swims from one end of the pool to the other without stopping all on her own, a gleeful grin on her face as nayeon cheers for her, telling her she’s doing great.

“practically ready for the olympics!” she calls, making dahyun giggle.

[unchartedthelostlegacy]

summer camp misadventure AU

Chloe Frazer, age 17, would kill to win the national teen photography competition. Not that killing would help her win.

But she would.

The national arts council gives out full ride scholarships to colleges around the nation every year to winners in different disciplines in the visual and performing arts, and yes, Chloe would absolutely snap someone’s neck to take gold in what is basically the Olympics of creating stuff.

She watched her ex win last year, after all, for his drone photo of the Grand Canyon. Unoriginal, much?

Chloe isn’t in the Grand Canyon. She’s at camp in Vermont, on a hiking trip, surrounded by artsy kids. Because it’s art camp. A boy is playing the guitar while they walk in a loose, conversation-buzzy line alongside a stream, brushing past trees on the muddy path. Three girls laugh together near the front, sharing inside jokes, and Chloe brings up what you could call the rear.

And there’s nothing worth taking a picture of as far as the eye can see.

Chloe’s fingers itch to click the shutter on her DSLR. The day is overcast, bad for mood but often key for photography. Balanced light source, no unpredictable shadows. But being surrounded by trees and wet dirt isn’t going to win her an award, and neither is her dorm back at camp, and she only signed up for climbing a mountain for the possibility of getting that one-in-a-million showstopper of a shot.

They take a break in a clearing, despite the wet ground, sipping from Nalgene water bottles and resting and chatting. Chloe squints, turning her head this way and that, wondering if with the right framing, a gaggle of teens beneath a gray sky could be viewed as poignant. Rule of thirds? She stuffs her camera back in its case.

She’s up against drone shots and Photoshop. It needs to be better.

The printmaking kids, poetry kids, theater kids, and painting kids all ooze some sort of creative impulse that makes Chloe even more competitive. Nadine Ross, for example. She hardly talks, but always has a tiny watercolor set in her cargoes, and now she’s on her stomach, daubing away, a portable water container beside her. Chloe is jealous; she doesn’t see anything close to an interesting subject here. She pads closer on her hands and knees, squinting, nearly knocking over someone’s water bottle.

It’s a grayish-blue wash across the pocket-size watercolor pad, and now Nadine is going in with a dark crayon. Silly, Chloe thinks. Wax resist, you need to do that before the water hits it, not when the paper is already wet, and it won’t dry in this humid weather anytime soon. But something happens when Nadine sketches in the spiky leaf silhouettes on the corners of the page, and then dips her brush and gives the page another smooth wash.

Yes, the wax does resist. Beautifully. It keeps the lighter color of the original wash while pushing the darker second layer away. It’s like rim-light in a photo, Chloe thinks--except no. It suggests more than that; sparks, or splashes.

Nadine is painting rain falling onto the leaves of the trees above them, without painting a single drop.

Chloe gulps. She considers slinking away, but oh no--the girl has noticed her, and turns her head.

“You’re really good!” Chloe says, her voice cracking a little. “I was just--watching. I can’t believe you found something to draw here.”

“Well,” Nadine pulls herself up. “Maybe put down the camera and pick up a real form of art, Frazer.”

“Excuse me?”

The girl tucks away her kit, efficiently, with a smile. God, a great smile. Chloe blinks and touches her lips.

“A real form of art?”

“You press a button, ja? I,” Nadine taps her head, “make art.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me. You think the Old Masters didn’t use a camera obscura to help them make the prettiest still life--”

And Chloe stops talking, because a lightbulb has just gone off over her head.

“You’re going to take that back to the dorms, right?” she asks Nadine. “Use it as a sketch?”

“A starting point,” Nadine says, cocking her head, as if she can tell Chloe’s onto something.

“Oh, well, that’s funny,” Chloe said. “You know, because plein air painting is well and good, but you could always use some help.”

“Help?”

“Right, what if you want to come back, look at the light again, the shadows, maybe see if you missed something? But it changes what, every few minutes?”

The girl folds her arms. “You really think I need that expensive dead weight around your neck to draw?”

“Oh of course not. But unless the clouds break properly, even the view from the summit’s not going to be worth much to me,” Chloe said. “But you, you can make a lot out of that, right?”

“The fog can give the view interesting layers. Make it look like an ocean with fins pointing out that are the trees.”

Gold.

Chloe snorted, holding out her hand. “Let’s make a deal, then. Let me know where you see something, and I’ll capture it for you. You can have peace of mind that way--my work won’t get smudged or warped like your sketches, after all.”

Nadine, to Chloe’s surprise, took and shook her hand, but muttered, “Maybe because it isn’t real art, Frazer.”

Smartass.

[moon-mirage]

uhhh I don't know how many prompts I get for your cresswell drabble thing, but it's exam season so how about an "I know we've literally never spoken but my roommate has their partner over and I have an exam tomorrow and i CAN'T focus when they're around so please can I hang out with you until then?" AU 👀

You can enter as many prompts as you like. :) It would be good to have just one word because then I can maybe manage to write a drabble only. But only maybe. 

But since you gave me more than a word, you’ll also get more words back ... 2,7k actually. :P I hope you have some time to spare. ;)

---

It was one thing to see her crush from far away, maybe even in a group of shared friends.

It was a whole different matter if he actually walked around her little apartment as if he owned the place even though he had never been here before.

"You like Vietnamese food, right?" He asked over his shoulder as he looked though the little kitchenette for some cutlery. Scarlet had organised the place well, so he easily found it. "You know Wolf, so there shouldn't be any cilantro in any of the dishes. Not sure what his deal with cilantro is since he usually eats everything that can be chewed. Weird if you ask me," he told her with a shrug.

"I do," Cress piped up. "Like Vietnamese food, I mean," she added lamely. After he said it was weird, she didn't want to reveal that she didn't like cilantro either.

Why oh why, couldn't have Scarlet warned her?

Although what could have prepared her for the sight of Carswell Thorne in her open door with two big bags of takeout, asking her if he could come in?

A devilish smile, a wink and Cress lost her ability to speak. Or behave like a normal human being.

She wanted to hide in her bedroom, change into something pretty and practice a conversation. She would like to be smart and witty and maybe a little bit sexy so he wouldn't know what hit him. He should be impressed by her, fall in love with her but instead she hardly could say a word.

He gave her his best smile. "Great." He hummed a few notes as he arranged the dishes on her counter, and she saw him glance at the pictures at the wall.

Oh stars!

It's not that she was particularly embarrassed by the fun pictures with her friends, when they had dressed up for a Disney-themed party (although with quite some booze which was hardly Disney-approved). But she certainly was now that her crush saw her in a full-blown Rapunzel costume, including the braided wig!

She cleared her throat, relieved when he turned his attention on her instead.

Well, that relief was short-lived now that he looked at her.

With those dreamy eyes that haunted her since her first college party.

Since then, Carswell Thorne had crossed her path more than once though she had to to speak with him more than ten words.

"What are you doing here?" She blurted out.

"Um." For the first time since he entered her apartment, Thorne looked sheepish. "Right. So, Scarlet is at our place."

Cress nodded. That wasn't anything new. Since Scarlet and Wolf got together, they had been almost inseparable. Wolf had come by their apartment a few times but tall as he was, he always looked caged in their small apartment, almost afraid to move and accidentally break something. Even sitting on their couch had been a sight. Cress and Scarlet fit snuggly into it but when Wolf sat on it, he used the whole space for himself. He had tried to make himself look smaller - an unsuccessful endeavour.

So, Scarlet was usually at his place that he shared with Thorne.

Which still didn't answer why Thorne was here.

In her apartment! With takeout!

Rubbing his neck, he seemed surprised that his reply hadn't answered her question. "So, Scarlet and Wolf are at our place ... together." When she didn't say anything, he gave an exasperated sigh. "I mean, together-together." He gave her a pointed look before folding a few napkins. "And I could hear everything. I mean, my bedroom is next to Wolf's so they know that I can hear them. They just didn't care."

Cress blushed furiously. Scarlet had been considerate enough not to bring Wolf to her place to be, as Thorne had put it, together-together but it had never occurred to Cress that they would go to Wolf's place instead since he also didn't live alone.

"But um, don't you also bring... girlfriends over?" The words were difficult to say with ease and she hoped he didn't notice. Thorne was many things - a charmer, very smart, good-looking and fun - but also, to her detriment, quite popular among the female students for all the reasons she just listed. She knew he went out with Shan from one of her classes for a while, Scarlet's friend Émilie had also talked about dating Thorne during their first semester and she had  seen him with Elia from Cress's dancing class as well. And those were just the ones she knew about.

Maybe if he flirted with her, if she at least got the chance for a date ... She never wanted to be another girl for Thorne, she wanted to be the girl for Thorne but he never extended his excessive flirting to her. More often than not, she had wondered if he even knew who she was despite sometimes hanging out together with Scarlet, Wolf, Cinder and Kai and Iko.

He gave a short laugh. "We usually have a kind of understanding ... or a schedule." A wink. "And I'm more discreet. I tell you, Scarlet brings out the wolf in Wolf," he said with a snicker. "Dinner is served!"

With flourish, he revealed the counter where he had strategically placed all the dishes, the rice, the sauces and even some candles she recognised as the ones they usually placed on the little shelf next to the door.

When she didn't say anything, he faltered for a second, his proud smile turning into a frown. "Oh wait." He looked through one of his pockets until he found a lighter and proceeded to lit the candles. "What do you say?"

Cress's heart was beating hard in her chest. "It's beautiful," the told him truthfully.

He preened at her compliment. "Well, the stuff you have is quite nice. The table pretty much set itself." Reaching for her, Cress felt his warm hands on her shoulder as he led her to the counter and helped her sit on one of the barstools.

This wasn't happening. Was she really eating dinner with Thorne?

When he looked expectantly at her, she reached for a summer roll, dipped in one of the sauces and hoped she wouldn't spill the whole content on her shirt as she bit into it. It was delicious and she hummed in pleasure.

"I take it tastes good?"

She opened her eyes, trying her best not to blush. "Amazing. Where is it from?"

"It's a few blocks from our place. Next time you come over, we can order from there again. Although there is also this great Indian restaurant you've got to try."

Cress munched on her roll, trying to figure out if he had indeed invited her to his apartment. Probably along with their other friends but still. She had only seen his place once not too long ago when he and Wolf had a little housewarming party.

A thought occurred to her. "Wait. If you, Scarlet and Wolf ordered it ... and you brought it here ... did you steal their food?"

He gave her an innocent look that could fool nobody. "I wouldn't say steal. I told you, they were otherwise occupied. Food is the last thing on their minds right now. And why let it go to waste?" He dug into one of the rice dishes, chewing thoughtfully.

They ate in silence but somehow, it wasn't awkward. At least, Cress didn't feel it was. But she was usually silent, so maybe it was awkward for Thorne?

Gathering all her courage, she asked him about his classes. An easy and safe topic for her and though he answered, he was more monosyllabic than she was used from him. He must have noticed himself because he gave her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Cress, it's just ... I'm doing okay but I'm no match for the golden child from campus. I doubt I could tell you anything you don't know already."

"That's not true." They shared a literature class together and he had eloquently interpreted a piece of fiction with ease. His view on the book had impressed her, despite having read on it and knowing the many ways to interpret the book. But he had made it his own and expressed his opinion, while Cress was usually too shy to raise her hand and join the discussion.

When she told him, he laughed warmly. "Ah, that pulp fiction story, I remember. Honestly, Cress, I was just bullshitting. I haven't even read the book."

"But then it's even more impressive."

There was a short silence during which she carefully evaded his gaze and focused on some fried vegetable. "That's sweet of you to say. But still, you're the genius who is acing pretty much every test without trying from what I've heard. I'm jealous," he said with a conspiratorial wink.

She blushed but didn't deny it. She wanted to let him know that it wasn't anything special, that learning was easy for her and that studying had been the only thing she had ever been good at - but no, it would come off as haughty or patronising. "I would like to be more like you," she confessed before she could stop herself.

"Sure you do. Who wouldn't?" He meant it as a joke but Cress didn't miss that there was a sombre tone to it.

She shrugged, trying to find the right words. "I'm good at tests, so I do well at college that's true but I'm not ... one day, we'll have our degree and then those grades won't matter much. I suck at personal interviews and my soft skills are really bad. I freeze up when I'm asked questions even though I know the answer. I'm not someone you remember among all those other college students aside from my grades."

"I remember you," he said without missing a beat. Cress blushed furiously at that and had no answer. Before the silence stretched on for too long, Thorne spoke again. "I'm actually relieved. I always saw you and heard the way people talked about you and thought, wow, there's someone who doesn't have to worry about life after college."

"I wish."

He nodded. "I actually excel at interviews. I can bullshit my way through them. Hey, I could teach you!" His eyes glinted with honest pride. "It's all about confidence."

"I don't have much of that," she murmured.

He waved her concerns away. "Just pretend you do then. Believe me, if you go into an interview, thinking you deserve the job and they have to convince you to take it, you'll automatically act all confident. It's easy, I'll show you how." He tipped at his temple, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "And in return you help me studying for my tests, deal?"

Thorne was all smiles and Cress couldn't help but grin back at him. He was so genuine and kind, in ways she was never able to discern from away. It just made her heart ache more. "Deal."

From that moment on, their conversation flowed more easily and Cress learned more about Thorne, his dreams and ambitions she had ever thought possible. Shy at first, she was nevertheless gaining some confidence as she talked to him and wasn't embarrassed when he pointed to the picture of her, Scarlet and Cinder in their Disney dresses.

"Please, let me borrow it. I need to make fun of Cinder, please, Cress? You can't deny me that one chance to one-up Cinder."

"She would so kill me."

"But Cress, she's wearing a dress. A poufy one, with glitter! And a tiara! An ugly one but still. Maybe I should take her shopping for a new one. See, I need that picture to help Cinder. That's me being a great friend."

"How selfless of you."

He nodded earnestly. "Selfless is my middle name. Right after suave and daring."

Cress giggled as she finished the last bit of her rice pudding dessert. With some sadness, she realised their nice evening together would be soon over. She didn't want it to be but takeout was what he came here for and now nothing was left.

Even Thorne was quiet, as he looked at all the empty boxes, cleaning a few specks on the counter with a napkin.

Cress wondered where he would go now. It was unlikely that Scarlet would return tonight or that she and Wolf would not take advantage of the empty apartment.

As if he read her mind, Thorne asked. "Would you mind if I crashed here for tonight?"

Cress stuttered. He wanted to stay the night? Here? At her place? Where she was?

"Or not!" He laughed. "Sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I just assumed Scarlet's room is empty and since it's already late... I'm sorry, Cress." Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it lightly. His usually mischievous grin was replaced by something more soft and sweet and she knew he would leave if she asked him to.

Cress had never invited a guy into her apartment. She wasn't prepared. The bathroom was a cluttered mess and she desperately tried to remember if she left her underwear somewhere he could see. Or the braces she wore during the night. Aces, he would see her in her spaceship pyjamas! Her cute flowery ones were in the laundry. She was just not prepared for Carswell Thorne staying the night.

And still... "I-it's fine. I'm sure Scarlet won't mind." From the stories she heard, they had already shared a tent when they went hiking with Cinder and Iko. Cinder had absolutely refused to share the tent with Thorne but Scarlet and Iko didn't have the same issues (though for different reasons, she remembered).

His smile was soft but there was a touch of nervousness that was so unlike the Thorne she knew that she felt flustered and busied herself with cleaning up the dishes. "Thank you, Cress. I promise to-"

She didn't let him finish. "Is that why you came here?" She had actually wondered about that. Thorne could have went anywhere after leaving his apartment. Iko and Cinder's apartment was much closer to his place than hers, and Kai's place was really fancy. It was the apartment they would hang out the most since it was the most spacious one and had lots of anemities. For a group of ever-poor students, it was a dream come true.

The silence went on a heartbeat too long. "Yes. Right. Scarlet's empty room. I mean it makes sense right?" His laugh was a touch too loud before he helped her cleaning up the counter. "I promise you won't even notice I'm here."

Somehow she doubted that.

---

"I can't believe you actually thought I randomly came by with dinner."

"How could I think you were not? You were at my door with takeout, I didn't think ..."

Thorne tugged playfully at one of her locks. "- I wouldn't come by under pretense just to spend a bit of time with the girl I had a crush on?" He finished for her. "Come on, Cress. You are supposed to be the smart one in this relationship."

"But you were so convincing!"

His finger tips ghosted over her cheek and she leaned into her touch. "Just as I told you then ... I pretended to be confident. And apparently, it worked."

The kiss that followed still made her heart race. She laced her hands behind his neck, drawing him closer, his taste now so familiar to her.

It stopped way too soon. She looked up him questioningly, her eyebrows furrowed when she saw his mischivious grin. "What?"

Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear. "You want to know another secret?" She knew he would feel her nod. "Scarlet and Wolf had left for the weekend to visit Scarlet's grandma. I didn't see - or hear - them for two whole days."

She gasped and he bit his lips playfully. "You planned this?"

"Yes." He drew her in for another kiss. "And I'm glad I did."

Her heart warmed at his confession. "Me too."

---

Don’t ask me why but I feel this oneshot pretty much wrote itself (during working hours but no one needs to know that). It’s actually my first AU oneshot and it was a fun challenge. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Thank you again for the prompt. :)

[harveywritings92]

Dante x reader soulmate AU

[ The first honest/sincere words your soulmate wants are tattooed to you body. ]

Yours: Hey fuckface! let see how funny it is when I shove my foot up yer ass!

Dante’s: Please help, they stole my bikini top.

-Hey fuckface! let see how funny it is when I shove my foot up yer ass!- You grimaced eyeing that tattoo it has been a double edge sword ever since it appeared on her fifteenth birthday, some people assumed your Soulmate was abusive while others assured you he was probably defending you... 

But none could prepare you for your uber religious mom catching wind of it, it was an accident you walked in from school and she saw something black peeking out under your sleeve.

"YFN what on God's green earth is that?!" she demanded yanking your arm towards her and pulled your sleeve up, let's just sat say if your mom was close to having a stroke that would've been the day! her eyes narrowed at you venomously as gripped your arm tightly.

"You go upstairs right now and wash this filth off your arm this instant!" you tried to tell her you can't but she would interrupt you. "How dare you go behind my back deface your skin with the devil's tongue! your skin is for your soulmark and nothing else, now go!" she barked pointing up the stairs. 

You just stared her for a good hard second before saying. "But mom, this is my soulmark." Oh how you wished you had a camera for the look on your mother's face; her lips pursed and her jaw muscles started twitching it almost looked like she'd just ate a lemon dipped in sour milk, your dad who knew about the vulgarity of your mark, awkwardly ushered you away while he tried to calm your mother down.

Life went on...

Most of your friends met their soulmates in high school or college, You didn't meet your soulmate until your [late 20s-mid 30s] you had moved from Redgrave to the neibouring city and after spending the first couple days lifting and unpacking things you decided to take a break and go to the beach while on the way you noted when you told your landlord where you were headed they'd give you a worried look and tell you to be careful.

You kept that in mind as you made to the beach noting there weren't a lot of people and the few there were in groups and just enjoying the last heat of summer before Fall came knocking at the door, You hummed watching the ocean, after setting up your towel and put on some sunscreen and listen to and audio book on your phone...

Half way through your book you felt something crawl on your back thinking it was bug you swatted at it, then it happed again... this time You looked away from your phone; just in time to see some guy crouched behind you with something in his hand! startled you jumped away in shock and off went your bikini top that thing in his hand was your top's string. 

you didn't scream instead you made a grab for your towel only for the man get his hands on that too and ran! You were pissed and about to follow but then you noticed he wasn't alone.. You could see what looked like three other men trying to hided behind the rocks as your bikini thief waved your stuff in the air mocking and laughing at you with a dark almost predatory look in his eyes...

Not knowing what to do, you looked around for help but most of the people you saw earlier were either gone or had move farther way, that was until you saw a scruffy well fit looking guy with white hair tied back in a ponytail in black swim trunks and a red sleeveless hoodie; walking along the shore eating a popsicle, You hesitated at first. but looking at your options, you decided his help was better then no help.

Springing  to your feet you ran over to the man in red with your marked arm covering your chest, and reach out giving his hoodie a tug the white haired man turned around looked at you. *oh fuck me, he's gorgeous!* your inner voice cried.

 the man eyed you with mild amusement before noticing shaken up you were. "You alright Doll?" he asked concerned you shook your head wanting to die right there feeling tears well in your eyes, as you pointed to where the man was still stupidly waving your top around, probably annoyed why you weren't coming after him.

"Please help, they stole my bikini top." The man looked at you funny his jaw went slack causing his popsicle to fall out of his mouth and onto sand before your tiny sobs snapped out of his trance; looking at where you were pointing his eyes darkened dangerously. 

"Put this on." He hissed giving you his hoodie, You saw the name Dante written on the tag inside before puling it on just in time to see "Dante" making his way towards the thief who was laughing before he got a good look at the figure headed towards him and realized it wasn't you.

"Hey fuckface! let see how funny it is when shove my foot up yer ass!" Dante snarled you stared the tattoo on your arm then at the white haired man in shock. Now understanding why he looked at you oddly, the thief dropped your stuff and tried to book it his friends were long gone, but Dante caught him and decided to give him a taste of his own medicine!

He yanked the guy trunks off and tore them to shreds, leaving the guy standing there in naked in public, you started laughing as you watched Dante towel whip the humiliated thief causing the creep to run down to beach causing people to take pictures or yell for the beach police.

When the creep was out of sight, the man you presumed to be your soulmate calmly walked up with your top and towel in hand, it was then you noticed the words on his right bicep, and felt embarrassed once more, but for Dante, here you thought your tattoo was cringy. "Here ya go babe." Dante held out your towel and top. "Thank you." you squeaked taking them him.

"Yer welcome Darling I'm Dante by the way."

"I know."

"Do you now, I guess my rep still precedes me, eh?"

"Actually... Your name is written in your hoodie."

"Oh...Right." He chuckled nervously you faintly saw blush appear on his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched his jaw, then regained his composure. "I'm Y/n and I have feeling we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other." Dante threw an arm over her shoulder "Damn straight we are." the white haired man agreed as the two soulmates started walking down the beach talking.

[bug13underscore]

Bookstore!au with trope exes and prompt “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.” For Alex/Wille

Not sure if you wanted them to get a happy ending, but that’s what I went with. 

Did I want to push my own bookstore-cafe-barista experience into this? Absolutely. Did I know how I wanted to go about that at first? Absolutely not, but I managed it. <3 I hope you enjoy this Anon!! <3 

“Hi! Welcome to Narne and Bobles, is there anything we can help you find today?” Willie’s voice drifted to the café from where he stood greeting people from his position in the front of the store, and Alex resisted everything in him that urged him to look across the floor, instead focusing on pressing the right buttons on the espresso machine. 

Forcing himself to focus on the three drinks to make in front of him, rather than relying on his muscle memory as usual, was harder today. It also didn’t help that he knew he was due for a break soon and would have to leave the sanctity of his café counter. He passed the three vanilla lattes over the counter to their recipients, just as his café counterpart came back from her break. 

“Hey, Jules.” He smiled as she pulled open the door to their kitchen. “Hair looks a little out of place, wanna pull it back again?” He teased, watching as she pulled her black apron over her head and yellow sweater. 

“Oh my god.” The girl groaned, quickly pulling her scrunchie out of her hair and adjusting it. “Remind me to kill Luke later, yeah?” 

“Tsk, tsk, Molina, kissing and murder on the job?” He gave a sharp laugh, beginning to make a drink for himself. 

“Shut up!” Julie bristled, picking up the nearest sharpie and tossing it at him. “Go on your break and leave me to complain.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” He huffed, dipping over to their bake case and grabbing a croissant, drink already in hand. “I’ll pay for this after my shift, promise.” 

“Sure, sure.” She gave him a wink as he finally pulled off his apron, giving her a final wave before making his way through the store to clock out before heading to their break room. 

After entering the code to get into the back, he gave his (favorite but don’t tell the others) manager, Ray, a slight wave before he went back to their cluster of fold-out tables. Alex usually spent his breaks zoned out, allowing himself to process his day up to that point and he was beginning to do just that, when he’s sadly interrupted by another person coming onto break. 

The last person he wanted to see, to be honest. 

“Hey, Alex.” The other boy offered him a nervous smile, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table. 

“Hey, Willie.” He replied with an awkward smile, quickly taking a bite of his croissant. 

They say in the silent room for a while, he thinks, though when Alex checks the time on his phone it’s barely been five minutes. He has to hold back a groan, knowing that the next twenty-so minutes would be worse. 

Alex uses the knowledge that Ray is within earshot to comfort him. He wouldn’t know why he’d need Ray if anything did happen, but just knowing he was there was a comfort. 

Until he hears the telltale sound of the door to their employees-only area slams shut and no one new comes back here. Meaning that Ray left and it truly was just Alex and Willie back here. 

Fuck. 

“Can I be honest?” Willie’s voice is quiet, which almost feels like a punch in Alex’s gut, as he’d only known the boy to be so loud, volume wise and by personality. 

“About what?” Alex’s voice came out just as quiet, it felt like they were sharing secrets or talking after lights-out at that weird summer camp he used to go to. 

“Everything,” He paused, only continuing when Alex gave a curt nod. “Sometimes, I just sit in bed and wonder, y’know, what would happen if things were different.” 

Alex sits for a moment, processing the words that Willie said. ‘What would happen if things were different.’

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought those same words, some nights not sleeping because his brain was too busy coming up with alternate outcomes. 

“Me too.” He swallows, lunch long forgotten. “But things aren’t different, so we have to deal with them how they are now.” 

“What if we made them different?” Willie offered, his stare earnest and solid, voice more confident than it had been since this conversation started. 

Alex felt like he’d been thrown into a completely different world, with the option to change things being placed in front of him. He blinked a couple times, mind reeling. The feeling of anxiety in his stomach wasn’t new, it had been living with him near constantly his whole life, but with it came a sense of warmth, of excitement. 

“Yeah.” He heard himself say, although his voice sounded foreign in his ears. “How do we start?” 

“You’re off tonight?” Willie’s grin is blinding, his question is empty though. Alex knows that he knows he’s off tonight, neither of them usually worked Thursday evenings, but he nods anyway. “I’ll meet you here after your shift then, yeah?” Alex gives another nod before checking his phone. 

“Well, I better clock back in. I’ll see you later?” Alex feels giddy all of a sudden as he collects his stuff and cleans up. 

“I’ll see you later.” Willie looks as giddy as he feels, which comforts him a bit. He gives a wave and goes to clock back in before rejoining Julie in the cafe. 

“Hey, Jules.” Alex smiles, pulling his apron over his head. 

“Someone seems happy.” She walks past him with a couple dirty plates, hip-bumping him as she heads to their dish-pit. 

“I am.” He laughs, occupying himself with checking their ice station. “We talked.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Her voice was higher and Alex knew without looking at her that her eyebrows were cinched together and full of her usual sisterly concern. 

“Yeah.” He grinned, angling his body towards her. “I think we’re gonna be okay.” 

“That's good.” Julie laughed, coming to draw him into a hug. “I won’t have to have my dad fire him now.” 

“Jules, we talked about this, you can’t have him fire people just because they upset one of us.” 

“Okay, but to be fair, Mikey totally deserved it.” 

“Amendment, you can’t have Ray fire people for upsetting me or Luke. If they upset Reggie, it’s fair game.” 

“I think I like this amendment, this amendment is good. Speaking of which, I think Rodney from receiving is giving him shit again.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, that guy again?” 

As they raddled into their usual work gossip for the next couple hours, Alex felt more at ease than he had in awhile. If he happens to grin across the store at Willie anytime they lock eyes and Julie notices, she doesn’t mention it. She certainly doesn’t mention it when Willie comes up and joins in their gossip for the first time in weeks and Alex can’t be more overjoyed at how the day had turned out.

[vagarius]

misukazu 21

(if you saw me fuck up the other one no you didnt)

EDIT I THINK THIS ONE GOT A LITTLE FUCKED UP TOO BUT IT’S... READABLE...

questions from this post, and answers originally written for this thread!!

If you had to change the pairing’s very first meeting, how would you change it?    their canon first meeting is already so good SHDGFLJASHG but if i had to choose a different one that's still within the context of mankai... meeting as kids and losing touch and coming back together completely different at mankai

What song fits your pairing the most?    uhhHHhhHHH i don't have a real answer but i do have a partial playlist for one of my misukazu aus and the only two songs in it are furaregai girl by sayuri and champagne's for celebrating by mayday parade and i feel like that says enough sldhgalsdhfalsh

What is your favorite AU/prompt idea/trope for your pairing?     ALL MISUKAZU AUS ARE GOOD but. i really love any au where their first meeting is in the future and both are still kind of lost but they're Older and it's hard to let themselves fall into the easy trust they find in canon. i just think that'd be neat.

Do you prefer canon ideas or do you have your own headcanons for them?     I'VE SAID THIS MANY TIMES BUT CANON MISUKAZU GIVES OFF MADE FOR EACH OTHER VIBES AND USUALLY I DON'T VIBE WITH THAT BUT THEY REALLY ARE WHAT THE OTHER NEEDS... AND I THINK EVEN IF THEY HAD TO PART THEY'D STILL BE ABLE TO BE BETTER PEOPLE BC THEY HAD MET

Favorite canon moment of them?     THERE ARE SO MANY but the one that immediately comes to mind is misumi carrying drunk kazu to bed (latest bday line) because drunk kazu is so soft and it implies that misumi wanted to wish happy birthday to kazu pretty late... what did he want to give him...

Least favorite canon moment of them?     hmm... there's not really one i can think of??? IM SORRY I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY I LOVE ALL THEIR CANON MOMENTS

Favorite headcanon trope/idea? (Your own or someone else’s)    this is somehow both vague and very specific but i think misukazu gives off this vibe: He's beautiful. I can't tell him. or "Kazu is always beautiful~" Don't call me that, Kazu thinks. I'm not. so... insecurities i guess ????? AJSHAJJD

Favorite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics?     THIS IS GOING TO SOUND SO CHEESY but i love how /real/ they allow themselves to be around each other. misukazu at their best is when one thinks "you're you. and i love that you" and the other knows this. i just. THEY VALIDATE THE OTHER SO MUCH CRIES

Least favorite aspect of them/their relationship dynamics? (Can be headcannon)     this isn't a "least fav" so much as "it makes me sad" but if either of them showed any sign of not being interested anymore the other is more likely to give up then push anything. sort of like "it was bound to happen, so i'll enjoy now until they drop me" or EVEN WORSE they think the other would be better off without them and pushes them away. so yeah the fact i can see one of these happening makes me sad.

If they aren’t a canon pairing, how would you get them together?     they give off "everyone knows we're dating but us" energy but at the same time i feel like they'd acknowledge there's something and just not define it bc a) they don't need to (misumi) or b) they're too nervous to (kazu). in other words i think one day they are holding hands and misumi says "kazu? is this dating?" and kazu holds his breath before asking "do you want it to be?"

If you had to take them and plunk them into another fandom, what fandom would that be? Why?     i think theyd be hilarious in any sports animanga (kazu is manager tho bc noodle arms but maybe they bond when misumi walks him through some of his usual training menu one night - ahem. anyway) BUT ALSO horimiya au...

How hard is it write/draw your pairing? Scale of 1-10.     AJDHAJDHSF I REALLY LOVE THEM SO IT COMES PRETTY EASILY... but sometimes you try to put them in tropes and realize they would Just Not Work Like That. idk where i'm going with this. but yeah. anyway 3 for sankaku.

Is there a pairing that you think rivals them?     in terms of what i ship, i tend to ship kazu and misumi individually with a lot of dif charas AJDHAKD. but in terms of like... in-universe "rival" pairings: kazu side: tsuzukazu (maybe, lbr it would take them 273924 yrs to actually get together), kazu x someone from winter (i... have my reasons but they'd take longer than what this answer entails) misumi side: ... surprisingly none that i can think of ahdjahd

Which character of the pairing do you like more? (Would you ever pair yourself with them?)     you know that tweet that's like "sometimes a ship is just your two favs"? yeah that's misukazu for me. but if i had to choose... misumi AJDHAJHDSF I HONESTLY WASNT THAT INTO YUME UNTIL THESE TWO CAME AROUND (NOT COUNTING 707)... but yeah if they wanted to hold me in their arms i wouldn't oppose

Which character of your pairing would be the one to break up with the other? Why?     OOOOOH BOY well. i think it could be either of them. i don't think they'd break up for lack of love but too much love and wanting the other to be happy and thinking that the only way to give them that is to let them go. so i guess the question is which of them would be more likely to be selfish and hold on. thinking this way, i think misumi would be more likely to break-up, bc kazu has lots of friends who are better than him!! and misumi is more ready to leave if he thinks he needs to than kazu is. now im sad.

Are they relatable as characters or as a pairing?     THE NUMBER OF TIMES I'VE BEEN CALLED KAZU KIN... in all seriousness kazu's struggles with speaking out and (shinobi spoilers) his uncertainty over his future hit real close to home... while i don't relate as much as misumi, his struggles always manage to tear my heart into pieces... ((oversharing alert) i guess what really separates me from misumi is his struggle with his desire to connect with family who has treated him poorly... whereas im more "lol fuck you") tldr i relate to kazu slightly more LOL

Did you once/ever dislike one/both of them?     i never disliked them but i was NOT expecting either of them to shoot up so quickly into my favs list ahdjahdjf. also i started shipping them Immediately After reading summer main story so there's that

On an estimate, how many posts have you made about them?    as of september 28th 2020 i make up 11/78 fics on ao3 in the romantic misukazu tag and 2/12 in the platonic one. i may have brainrot.

What made you decide to ship them?     TBH I FINISHED THE MAIN STORY AND WENT "OH MY GOD... THAT'S MY SHIP" but now that i'm here i continue to ship them because they have the potential to bring out both the best and the worst in each other and i'm all about that

Favorite genre for them? (Angst, fluff, etc.)     angst. i just. angst hurt/comfort all the way. im so sorry babies.

lol you thought there would just be 21 ANYWAY EXTRA 1: how do they spend breaks/vacation?    they'd travel a lot when they're older!! kazunari loves to travel and misumi would follow kazunari anywhere (also, new triangles!!) so they go somewhere new whenever they have the time. however i think eventually one or both of their future careers will take them anywhere and everywhere anyway, so their "ideal vacation" might turn into an evening in, cuddling and catching up (as if they didn't already send play-by-play updates over the phone of whatever they did during the day)

EXTRA 2: first date?     i don't they ever have an explicit first date, but if asked they'll cite the time they had a picnic in the park turned triangle hunt turned accidental dip in the duck pond. at least, kazunari will. misumi just tilts his head and wonders what you mean.

EXTRA 3: gifts?     IM FEELING REALLY CHEESY SO I'M MAKING THIS ABOUT ANNIVERSARY GIFTS they both end up getting each other jewelry (although kazu was really really nervous bc he wasn't sure if misumi would wear it). kazu gets misumi a bracelet (with triangles, of course although misumi only wears it sometimes because he doesn't want to lose it) and misumi gets kazu a pair of triangle earrings "so we can match!" and kazunari combusts at the implications

EXTRA 4: sharing clothes     THEY'RE ACTUALLY AROUND THE SAME SIZE (and tend to wear baggier stuff barring kazu's skinny jeans)... but they have completely different Styles so it's still really obvious when steal each other's stuff ahdjajdkaf. as cute as kazu would look in sumi's sweatshirt i think the much more likely scenario is kazu wrapping misumi in his jackets because this boy nEVER BRINGS HIS ANYWHERE anyway just. accidental shared wardrobe misukazu.

EXTRA 5: lake house au    consider: kazunari living in a house on the shore of a lake for a summer for Art Purposes (and a little bit for Dealing With Life purposes but he's not gonna admit that) and meets his lake neighbor misumi who kazu thinks might be a ghost or spirit for a while but he actually just lives further down the lake and misumi unknowingly helps kazu with his Life Issues and maybe they fall in love

[orangeoctopi7]

For Want of a Switch

... A Nintendo Switch, amirite?

No, JK I’ve actually started a new fic because plot bunny/fandom pet peeves wouldn’t let me work.

An AU where things go a little more smoothly at the UFO crash site, Dipper doesn’t make any life-changing decisions without sleeping on it first, and Ford clarifies some earlier statements made while under emotional duress.

Many metaphors have been made about how changing course by just a couple of degrees can lead to a very different destination. How flipping a simple switch can make a difference between a train ending up in Paris or Munich. In this case, the metaphorical switch was as simple as Ford and Dipper not pressing a real switch inside a derelict spaceship. Because of this, no security droids showed up when Dipper found the adhesive, and they were free to continue their conversation about apprenticeship uninterrupted.

“I-I dunno.” Dipper stammered when Ford insisted that Mabel would be fine on her own in California. “We’ve never really been apart before.”

“And isn’t that suffocating?” Ford asked.

“...What do you mean?” Dipper asked for clarification. He was pretty sure he knew where his great uncle was coming from, but he had to be sure. Because if not… well, the boy wouldn’t let anyone talk about his sister like that and not stand up for her, not even The Author.

“I mean always living with the expectations that you have to go everywhere together, to do everything together! I mean when people act as though you’ve done something wrong if you ever try to follow your own path, even your own twin!”

Dipper nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. The teacher over our Quiz Bowl team is always asking me when Mabel’s gonna join, no matter how many times I tell him she’s not into that sort of thing. And every time Mabel gets a part in the school play, everyone else pesters me so much for not auditioning that I end up joining the stage crew, even though rehearsals are the same time as Game Club. Mabel always says I don’t have to, but… I just get so tired of all the other teachers and students getting on my case.”

There were even more instances like this that Dipper could list. Heck, just earlier this summer, Mabel had been upset because he wouldn’t go trick-or-treating with her. But no, Mabel was more upset that Dipper had tried to ditch her without explaining that he wanted to go to the dance with Wendy, and Robbie had made him feel embarrassed about being too old for it. She wouldn’t have been so mad if he’d just talked to her in the first place. Right?

When he stopped to think about it, Dipper realized it was probably even worse for Ford and Stan when they were growing up. They may have been fraternal twins, but they definitely looked identical. And while Dipper had never met his great-grandfather, the few stories he’d heard about the guy didn’t make him sound like a very supportive parent. 

“Dipper, can you honestly tell me you never felt like you were meant for something more?” Ford asked. “More than what people expect of you? More than just being half of an assumed pair?”

“I-I guess… maybe? I dunno. Staying here in Gravity Falls, working with you… it sounds like a dream come true, but I’m not sure I have what it takes. Bill tricked me, and I was wrong about Stan and the portal.…”

“Bill tricked me too, remember?” Ford assured him. “And you were right about Stan and the portal. It was too dangerous, and he shouldn’t have opened it.”

“But then you never would have--”

“I know. Believe me, I know. And I’m so glad I got to come back to Gravity Falls and meet you and Mabel, but… but it’s selfish of me to feel that way, because the event that brought me home put the rest of the universe in danger. Once we find the alien adhesive and seal the rift, maybe I can-- I can finally live without- well, with a little less guilt.” He sighed and muttered under his breath. “Sixty-three years old, and I’m still cleaning up after his messes.” Ford shifted through a few more containers, still looking for the adhesive. “What I’m trying to say is: I think you do have what it takes.”

“If you say so…” Dipper shrugged. “I mean, I can’t even work this magnet gun right!” He held it up to demonstrate and ended up zapping a hexagonal container right to him. It leaked a strange pink goop when he tried to pry it off. 

“That’s it!” Ford cried. “You did it, my boy, you found the adhesive!”

“I did?” 

“Yes! What did I tell you? You do have what it takes, kid, you’re brilliant!” Ford hugged him, and then carefully packed up the alien adhesive. “We can continue this discussion on the way back home. For now, we’ve got bigger things to worry about. I’ve been working on a specialized glue-gun back in the lab. We should be able to fill it with the alien adhesive and seal up the rift.”

Dipper got a few more tries with the magnet gun on their way back out of the crashed alien ship, and by the time he reached the ladder again, he’d actually gotten the hang of it.

“Great Uncle Ford?”

“Yes, my boy?” 

“If… if I do become your apprentice, could we come back here some time?”

Ford grinned warmly. “Absolutely.”

As they ascended the ladder, Dipper paused to take a few more selfies before they left the UFO, and he even got Ford to pose with him in one, but it was clear the old researcher wanted to get back to the lab and seal off the rift as soon as possible. Their climb up was otherwise uneventful. But while Dipper was exiting the ship, his foot caught on the lip of the opening, and tripped over the rock that had been covering the access hatch before. Luckily, his backpack took the brunt of the fall. Unluckily, they heard the loud crunch of something breaking.

Dipper and Ford shared a moment of wide-eyed terror as the boy hurriedly opened up his bag and pulled out the rift. They shared a sigh of relief when they found the crack in the containment unit hadn't expanded more than a millimeter, and was still stable. Dipper rummaged around in his bag and found the offending culprit.

“Phew, it was just my walkie-talkie.” The boy sighed with relief. The speaker had popped out and the Talk button was stuck down. “Oh well, we weren’t getting a signal anyway.”

“I can fix it for you, once the rift is taken care of.” Ford assured him, “But we need to seal it fast, before that crack finally breaks.”

Dipper nodded and gingerly held out the containment unit to his uncle. “I think you’d better carry it from here on out.”

Ford solemnly took the rift and placed it in one of his many coat pockets. “That was close. We can’t afford to have any accidents with this.”

“I’m sorry…” Dipper murmured.

“You don’t need to be sorry, my boy. Just more careful.”

“See, this is what I’m talking about when I say I don’t think I have what it takes! I just almost ended the universe!”

“Almost being the operative word. You almost destabilized the rift, but you didn’t.” Ford reassured him. “Meanwhile, look at all the things you have done! Defeated a swarm of gnomes, faced off against a character from a fighting game brought to life, outsmarted a shapeshifter! How many other twelve-year-olds could do that? This town is a magnet for things that are special. For people who are special, like you and me!” Ford hugged him. “So what do you say, will you be my apprentice?”

“Well… I… it’s a really big decision.” Dipper said slowly. “I’m gonna need time to think about it.”

“You’re right. It is a big decision.” Ford agreed. “And you’ve got the rest of the week to consider it. Of course, I hope you say yes.”

* * *

The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon when they got back to the shack, the sunlight filtering in long slanting beams between the trees. The beautiful scenery added to Dipper's good mood as he ran up the stairs to the attic, eager to share the day's events with his sister.

"Mabel! I just had the greatest day of my life! Aliens are real, and I got to explore their ship with Grunkle Ford, and-" he halted in his rambling when he saw his sister curled up in a ball on her bed, her back to him. "Mabel, what's wrong?"

She slowly sat up and turned around, revealing her walkie-talkie, still receiving transmissions from Dipper's busted one.

"Tell me I heard wrong, Dipper!" She cried, "Tell me you're not going to stay here and be Ford's apprentice!"

"Well, I… I haven't really made a decision yet." Dipper replied. "I've still got all week to think about it."

"You just had the best day of your life? Well I just had the worst day of my life!" Mabel informed her brother with tears in her eyes. "I found out that everything I was looking forward to in the future, highschool, a birthday party with my friends, even saying goodbye to them at the bus stop before we leave, it's all going wrong! And now I find out you, the one constant in my life, might not be coming home with me!?"

"I-I don't know, I haven't decided yet…" Dipper stammered. "Just give me a couple of days to think about it, we'll figure this out!"

"Why can't you figure out right now that it's a terrible idea!?"

Dipper tried to remember how Ford had put it. He made it sound so clear and logical. "Come on, Mabel, we can't always do the same thing! We have to choose our own path!"

"What does that even mean!?" She threw her hands up. "I'm your sister and your friend, Dipper, whatever you do it's gonna affect me, especially if it's you leaving me!"

“Well, always staying with you is going to affect me and the opportunities I have!”

“I’m not saying you always have to stay with me!” Mabel retorted. “But moving away from home for good? Staying cooped up in a lab with Grunkle Ford all the time? Is that really what you want?”

“I don’t know what I really want!” Dipper steamed. “So far today nobody has given me time to stop and really think about this! You think I don’t have misgivings about moving away from Mom and Dad? But it’s not like I’d never come back, I’d come to visit for holidays and stuff. And I wouldn’t be cooped up in the lab with Grunkle Ford all the time. We’d go out exploring, and I’d hang out with Wendy when she’s done with school for the day, and Grunkle Stan would still be around to make me do chores… probably…”

Come to think of it, Dipper wasn’t quite sure what Stan was going to do once tourist season was over. It was clear Ford didn’t approve of the Mystery Shack, even less than Dipper had when the boy first arrived. Would Stan stay in Gravity Falls after the Shack was shut down? Did he have anywhere else to go?

“Fine!” Mabel huffed as she stormed out of the room. “Take you time thinking about how much fun you’re gonna have chasing fairies with Grunkle Ford, while I’m stuck in Piedmont doing math homework!”

Dipper waited quietly in their bedroom as he listened to Mabel thunder down the stairs. He figured it was probably best to give her some space to cool down for now. They’d talk more about it when she wasn’t so upset, when they could both think clearly. Once the front door slammed shut, he knew it was safe for him to go downstairs. He headed down to the basement to see if Ford needed any help sealing the rift.

* * *

It was early in the evening, but the gift shop was completely empty. Of course, the fact that it was the second-to-last Friday of August didn’t help. Tourist season was coming to a close. Normally the Mystery Shack would cut back to only being open on the weekends once September rolled around, going until Halloween, when Stan would throw together a haunted house and go out with a bang before closing down until the holiday season, when he’d open up for a couple of weeks before shutting down again until Spring Break of next year.

Not this year, though.

This year, Stan would be closing up the Mystery Shack for good.

“Alright, I ain’t payin’ ya to stand around when we’re not pulling in any cash.” Stan barked at Wendy. “Go home!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Wendy shrugged, pulling off her name tag and grabbing her jacket.

“You too, Soos!” Stan turned to the handyman, who was busy pulling boxes out of a closet.

“You sure, Mr. Pines?” Soos asked, “I thought you wanted me to clear out all our old inventory.”

“It can wait ‘til tomorrow. I get the feeling it’s gonna be another slow day.”

“Oh. Well, I could help you clean out the kitchen instead!”

“Soos.”

“You don’t gotta pay me. Oh, or I could vacuum the living room!”

“Go home, Soos! If you’re so set on doin’ chores, do ‘em for your Abuelita!”

“Oh. Ok…”

Stan hadn’t told Soos about Ford’s mandate to close down the Mystery Shack after the kids left, and he worried the handyman would figure it out if he stuck around. Stan also hadn’t told the guy he’d be kicked out after the kids left. Maybe Stan was just trying to spare the kid’s feelings. Or maybe he was hoping Soos’ inevitable water works when he found out would persuade Ford to change his mind. Not likely, but hey, it was worth a shot, right?

The old conman was tallying up the day’s profits in the cash register (there weren’t any) when his hearing aide picked up the bang of the attic bedroom door slamming open, followed by the tromp-thump-clomp-thunk of someone stomping down the stairs, punctuated by the creeeeeeak-slam of the front door being thrown open and then kicked shut. 

“Oh boy.” He sighed, locking the till. He’d had to cheer Mabel up just an hour ago, and he didn’t think it was a coincidence that someone had stormed out of the house just a few minutes after Dipper and Ford got back from their latest nerd escapade. What were those kids fighting about now?

Stan peeked out the window at the front porch, and sure enough, there was Mabel, sobbing on the couch, her head pulled into her sweater. Earlier she’d just been sad and unsure of the future, but now Stan could see her mood had shifted, and not for the better. These were tears of anger and frustration.

“Hey Pumpkin, you alright?” Stan asked as he peeked out the front door.

“No!” 

Right, stupid question. “Well, wassamatter? I gotta punch some jerk for you?”

“No…” Mabel said more quietly this time. Stan figured that was all the invitation he needed to sit down next to her.

“You feelin’ up to tellin’ me what happened, or am I gonna have to play Ducktective?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now…” Mabel mumbled, her voice a bit muffled by the sweater over her face. “Can you just… can you just sit here with me for a little while?”

“Eh, sure, I got nothin’ better to do.” Stan played it off like he was indifferent, but he wrapped a gentle arm around her back. He could tell she appreciated it by the way she leaned into his side.

They sat there like that for maybe five minutes before Mabel finally began to talk on her own.

“You remember earlier, when you said at least whatever happens, I’ll still have Dipper with me?”

Yep, they were definitely fighting again. “Yeah?”

“I’m starting to worry I won’t always have him with me.”

“Alright, what’d that bundle of sweat and nerves do now?”

“It’s not something he did… not exactly.” Mabel was quiet for a moment, as if she wasn’t sure she should share the next bit. “Grunkle Ford asked Dipper if he wanted to stay here in Gravity Falls and be his apprentice.” 

“...Did he now?” Stan asked icily. He didn’t want to make this about him and his brother’s issues. This was Mabel’s problem. But oh boy, he was going to have words with his brother as soon as he had the chance. “Sixty-three years old and I’m still cleanin’ up after his messes…” he muttered under his breath.

“I overheard them talking about it on the walkie-talkies.” Mabel nodded, apparently not hearing that last bit. “And when Dipper got back, he said he needed time to think about it! I guess I’m mad because if it were me, I wouldn’t have to think about it. If I had to choose between staying in Gravity Falls without Dipper, or going home with him, I’d choose to go home with him every time!”

Stan gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I know you would, sweetie. But you gotta remember, your brother’s one of those over-thinking types. He’s gotta over-think everything! That big head of his will figure out it’s a bad idea.”

“But what if he doesn’t?”

“Then we’ll have to talk some sense into him.”

Mabel shifted inside her sweater and gave a little moan. She still wasn’t reassured.

Stan heaved a deep sigh. “Look, I’m gonna tell you somethin’ I wish I’d known when I was a kid. I don’t think this’ll happen, but… if Dipper does decide he wants to stay with Ford, or if when you two get older, he decides to do something you really don’t think he should do, you should try and talk some sense into him. But if he still won’t listen, all you can do is support him. Cuz if he ever feels like you’re tryin’ to hold him back, that’ll only push him away faster.”

Mabel finally poked her head out of her sweater and looked up at Stan with wide eyes. “I’m not trying to hold Dipper back… I just don’t want to be alone!”

He hugged her. “I know, sweetie. Nobody does.”

“And you weren’t trying to hold Grunkle Ford back when you two were teenagers! The thing with his science fair project was just an accident!”

Oh great. Here he’d been trying to not make this about himself and his issues with his brother. “Believe me, I know. But it doesn’t matter what I know. He still thinks it was sabotage.” The old conman shook his head. “But look, kid, you don’t gotta worry about my issues, even if they do seem pretty similar. I know right now with summer ending and your last year of middle school starting, it seems you’re growin’ up too fast, but the truth is, you’re still young. You an’ your brother’ve still got years an’ years to mess up and make up.”

Mabel squirmed the rest of the way out of her sweater and wrapped her arms around Stan’s waist. “Thanks Grunkle Stan. I guess I feel a little better now. I’m still worried about what Dipper will do, though.”

“Well, if he does decide to stay here with Ford, maybe I’ll come home with you.”

Mabel giggled and looked up at him again, but her smile faltered when she saw he wasn’t joking. “W-what are you talking about? You can’t just leave the Mystery Shack, this is your home!”

Yikes. Stan probably shouldn’t have said that out loud. He was pretty sure the whole reason Ford was letting him stay until the kids left was because the old nerd didn’t want them to know about it and make a fuss. Stan had just wanted to make Mabel feel better, but she’d just be more upset if she found out he’d been kicked out.

Luckily, something else caught their attention before that conversation could start. They heard something rustling through the underbrush. It was hard to see in the dimming light as the sun continued to sink towards the horizon, but a humanoid figure seemed to be making its way towards the clearing that housed the Mystery Shack. Stan reached behind the couch for his anti-creep bat, which he used to chase off Manotaurs, IRS agents, or the stray beautiful men that had started hanging around a couple of months ago. But an uneasy feeling he couldn’t place made him reach further down until his hand closed around the handle of a pistol. His thumb rested carefully against the safety switch, unsure if he should flip if off yet.

Before the figure came into full view, they heard its voice, high pitched and annoying, but probably male. “M-M-M-Mabel? M-Mable? Ugh, where is she? She should’ve come this way by now!”

Stan switched the safety off. He was about to order Mabel back inside when the stranger finally stumbled into the clearing. He was a tall, pudgy man with a hairstyle that looked straight out of the 1920’s, wearing weird little goggles and a gray jumpsuit. Wait, not gray, forest camo. Wait, no, brick pattern. No, a seascape. No, definitely gray. Wow, were Stan’s eyes really that bad?

“Wait, Blendin!?” Mabel exclaimed. She hopped up from the couch, but Stan immediately grabbed her shoulder and sat her back down. Every instinct in his body was telling him this was wrong.

This Blendin guy looked up with surprise when he heard her voice. “M-Mabel! I’ve been looking all over for you! I-I-I need your help!”

That just set off more alarm bells. Why would this creep be looking for Mabel in the woods instead of the home she’d been living in for the past two-and-a-half months?

“Mabel, who the heck is this weirdo?” Stan asked uneasily.

“That’s Blendin Blandin. He’s a time travel guy. Me and Dipper accidentally lost him his job, and then he challenged us to a time travelers’ gladitoral death match called Globnar, which we won, so we got him his job back, and now we’re cool!” She assured her uncle. “What’s wrong, Blendin?”

“S-something terrible is about to happen, and I-I-I need your help to stop it!”

Mabel tried to stand up again, but Stan kept a hand tightly clamped down on her shoulder.

“Whatever it is, you can tell her from where you’re at.” Stan growled.

“I-I-It’s top secret!” Blendin whined. “I-I-I could lose my job again i-if this gets out!”

“It’s OK Blendin! Grunkle Stan just wants to make sure I’m safe!” Mabel assured him. “But he’s really good at keeping secrets, you can trust him! Why don’t you just come up here and tell us what’s wrong?”

Blendin took a few steps forward, but stopped just a foot short of the porch. “Uuuuh… h-h-how about we meet h-half-way?” 

That was it. Stan whipped out the pistol he’d been hiding behind the couch. “How’s about you start talkin’ now?”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel gasped, scandalized.

“A-a-alright!” Blendin whimpered. “I-I-I need something from your brother’s lab! B-but you have to hurry!”

* * *

Ford noticed right away that Dipper’s mood had worsened in the ten minutes since they’d gotten home. His gaze was on the floor, and he shuffled his feet as he left the elevator.

“Let me guess, Mabel didn’t take it well?” 

Dipper just shook his head in reply. “I still need to talk to her about it when she’s not so upset, but… I’m starting to think I shouldn’t take your offer…”

The old researcher felt himself deflate at the boy’s words, but he hoped Dipper hadn’t noticed. Instead he changed the subject. “For now, we need to focus on sealing the rift. Everything else can wait.” He pulled the rift out of his pocket. The crack reached almost completely across the protective dome now. “Dipper, would you please get me the glue gun sitting on the console desk?”

The glue gun in question looked like a cross between one of Mabel’s crafting glue guns and a Nyarf Mega Soaker, complete with an empty tank built into the back end. It was big enough that Dipper needed both hands to lift it. The boy carried it over to Ford, who inserted the tip into the alien adhesive container and began to fill it like a syringe. 

“Alright, I need you to take that flathead screwdriver and very carefully unscrew the base of the containment unit.” Ford instructed.

Dipper did just that, holding his breath the whole time so his hands wouldn’t shake.

“OK, now turn it over, slow and steady, and detach one of the tubes from the dome.”

Dipper turned the dome in his hands, careful to keep the swirling blob of chaos energy inside from touching the glass, and then pulled one of the tiny tubes out. Ford knelt down beside him and inserted the tip of the glue gun into the little hole before the rift could leak out. He began to pump the alien adhesive into the rift, starting at the bottom and working his way up until what had once been a sparkling hole in space was now a glowing pink mass. He continued until the glue began to ooze out of the cracks in the dome.

“Alright, put it down. Careful not to get any of the adhesive on your hands. Step back.” Ford put himself between Dipper and the filled containment dome the moment the boy moved. The old researcher stared it down, as if daring it to do something, anything, to suggest it was destabilizing. He waited a minute. Two. Five. It just sat there, unmoving, unchanging.

Ford released a breath he hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding. Was that it? Was he… done?

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot went off from the vicinity of the porch above them.

Ford swore he jumped as high as the ceiling at the sound. Dipper screamed. The old researcher pressed himself and his nephew into the small space beneath the console desk, looking warilly up at the hole in the roof where Dipper had fallen through under the porch just a few weeks ago. If he concentrated, he could hear voices arguing up there. It sounded like Stan, and another voice he didn’t recognize, but it was hard to make out. He was going to have to go up there if he wanted to know what was happening.

“Stay down here where it’s safe. If Stan or your sister try to come in here without me, don’t trust them until you’ve checked their eyes. If anyone else tries to get in, barricade the door and hide.”

“W-what about the rift?”

Ford glanced down at the ball of glowing adhesive. It’d take at least another 24 hours for it to cure, but it seemed safe, for now. “Hide it, if you have to, but it should be fine.” With that, he darted to the elevator, checking his weapons as he waited for the lift to take him up.

He hoped everyone was ok. It would be the cruelest irony if after finally protecting the universe from the rift, he failed to protect his family.

* * *

“Grunkle Stan, don’t hurt him!” Mabel cried, trying to pull down his arm holding up the gun.

“Just a warning shot, sweetie.” Stan assured her through gritted teeth. “I don’t remember ever mentioning anything about havin’ a brother to you, much less anything about a lab.” He addressed the stranger standing in front of the porch.

“I-I-I’m from the future! I know these sorts of things!” Blendin insisted. Funny. He didn’t seem any more flustered than he had been before the gunshot.

“Sure.”

“Grunkle Stan, he’s telling the truth!”

“I don’t doubt that.” But Stan knew better than anyone that the best way to sell a big lie was with a bunch of technically true facts. And his instincts told him this joker was trying to pass a doozy of a lie. “Go wait inside, sweetie.” 

“No, you’ll shoot him!”

“Only if he gives me a good reason to.” 

“M-M-Mabel, wait!” Blendin implored pathetically.

“Go wait inside kid, or you’re grounded!”

“But Grunkle Stan--”

“Somethin’ about this is off, alright?” Stan muttered to her under his breath. “Pay attention to your instincts, you’ll feel it too. Just do me a favor and go inside where it’s safe, ok?”

After another moment of hesitation, Mabel finally listened to her Grunkle and went inside.

“So,” Stan turned his attention back to the stranger waiting just beyond the porch. “I got five more rounds. That gives you five more chances to tell me why you want something outta my brother’s lab.”

The guy’s posture shifted into something far more confident and inexplicably inhuman as he burst into a long, mocking fit of laughter. The creep’s voice had completely changed the next time he spoke. 

“OH, I SHOULDA KNOWN I COULDN’T PULL ONE OVER ON YOU, STANLEY PINES!” 

“What, am I supposed to be impressed you know my real name? We already established you’re from the future, and even if that wasn’t the case, I’m pretty sure Soos has spread that gossip through half the town by now.”

“WELL, WE BOTH KNOW YOU CAN’T KEEP ON GOING BY ‘STANFORD’ AFTER THE SUMMER ENDS. I’M JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU GET USED TO IT.”

“Yeah. Drop the small talk and cut to the chase, bucko. I really don’t wanna shoot you after my niece asked me not to.”

“OK, OK. IT’LL PROBABLY COME AS NO SURPRISE TO YOU THAT YOUR BROTHER’S IN OVER HIS HEAD WITH ONE OF HIS PROJECTS.” The creep pressed a button on his watch and a hologram of what Stan could only describe as massively over-designed snowglobe appeared. “IT’S A TEAR IN TIME AND SPACE. HE’S TRYING TO KEEP THE THING FROM GOING CRITICAL, BUT HE CAN’T DO IT ON HIS OWN. HE’S TRYING TO SEAL IT NOW, BUT IT’S GOING TO RUPTURE. HOWEVER, IF YOU CAN GET IT TO ME BEFORE HE SEALS IT…”

“Uh-huh. And what’re you gonna do with it?”

“TAKE IT TO THE FUTURE, WHERE WE HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY TO CONTAIN IT, OF COURSE!”

“So why don’t you just ask him for it yourself?”

“HAH! YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW HOW STUBBORN AND PARANOID HE IS! HE’D NEVER LET ANOTHER PERSON TOUCH IT, HE HAS TO BE THE HERO ALL ON HIS OWN!”

“Yeah, you got a good point there. But I meant why don’t you ask him for it yourself when he bursts out this door in about ten seconds.” 

* * * 

The elevator ascent took entirely too long. It had to be at least two minutes since he heard the gunshot go off, which, depending on whether or not anyone sustained an injury, and what kind of injury it was, was time he didn’t have to waste. 

As Ford rushed through the house to the front porch door, he was relieved to note that Mabel was perfectly safe, just peeking anxiously out the front window. But the observation did nothing to slow him down. Through the window he could see Stan on the porch, holding what appeared to be the offending firearm. The gun was pointed at an unfamiliar figure. What was familiar was the figure’s voice. Ford pushed past Mabel and threw the door open, one hand already on his own blaster.

“Bill!!” He cried as he lept dramatically onto the porch, drawing his blaster with a flourish. Stan was looking at him with a smug grin, obviously he’d heard his brother running through the house. Bill, for once, looked surprised. But he quickly regained his composure.

“WELL, SPEAK OF THE DEVIL! I THINK YOU KNOW WHAT I’M HERE FOR, SIXER!”

“You’re too late, Bill, I already sealed the rift!” 

Ford was satisfied to see that for the second time in under a minute, Bill looked shocked. “WHAT?!? WHAT--HOW DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING!? FIRST SHOOTING STAR DOESN’T SHOW IN THE WOODS WHEN SHE’S SUPPOSED TO, NOW THIS!? IS SOME LESSER TIME BEING MESSING WITH ME TODAY?” 

Bill removed his goggles, revealing the tell-tale glowing yellow eyes, which he rubbed with frustration before continuing, back in his usual mocking tone. “SO WHAT, DID YOU STEAL THE FATES’ SEWING KIT AND STITCH IT BACK TOGETHER YOURSELF? OR, OH DON’T TELL ME, YOU AND PINETREE WERE AT THE UFO EARLIER. YOU FILLED IT IN WITH SPACE GLUE, DIDN’T YOU? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW LONG IT TAKES THAT STUFF TO SET? OF COURSE YOU DON’T, YOU NEVER TOOK THE TIME TO TEST IT! TYPICAL SIXER.”

Stanford blanched. No, he hadn’t tested it first. There hadn’t been time! “I-I know it will work! And it doesn’t matter how long it takes to set, you can’t reach it if it’s within the protection spell!”

“I SURE CAN’T!” Bill agreed with a smirk. “BUT I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO WHO CAN!” He turned to Stan “WHADDAYA SAY, MAC? CARE TO HELP ME STICK IT TO YOUR UNGRATEFUL BROTHER?”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Stan growled. “And only I get to call him Sixer!”

Bill’s confident grin set into a forced grimace. 

“HA.” 

“WELL.”

“YOU PROBABLY THINK YOU’VE WON, DON’T YOU? WELL, GUESS AGAIN, LOSER! THIS ISN’T OVER! EVEN IF I CAN’T CROSS THAT BARRIER, I’VE STILL GOT PLENTY OF PAWNS IN THIS HICK TOWN! AND EVEN IF YOU SOMEHOW MANAGE TO KEEP THE RIFT LONG ENOUGH FOR THAT GLUE TO SET? I’VE BEEN WAITING BILLIONS OF YEARS FOR THIS! YOU THINK I CAN’T WAIT ANOTHER DECADE FOR SOME OTHER SCHMUCK TO COME ALONG AND BUILD A PORTAL!? YOU CAN’T STOP ME! AND I’LL MAKE SURE THE ENTIRE PINES FAMILY REGRETS EVER CROSSING BILL CIPHER!”

Bill pulled out a time tape and disappeared in a flash.

The elder Pines twins stood there in silence for a moment, staring at the empty space Bill had just left as if they could still see the anger and hatred radiating from it. 

Stan, of course, was the first one to speak again. “We gotta talk.”

Ford just nodded solemnly, and followed him inside. 

* * *

After Stan finally convinced Mabel to go inside, she’d waited silently, peeking out the nearest window. Stan had probably wanted her to go someplace where she couldn’t hear or see what was happening, but she just had to know everyone was going to be ok. She didn’t want her Grunkle or Blendin to get hurt, even if the time traveler was acting weirder than usual. 

The air froze in her lungs when she heard Bill’s voice come out of Blendin’s mouth. She wanted to run back out there and warn Stan, but he’d asked her to go inside for her own safety, and Stan hadn’t trusted the time traveler from the beginning, so he would probably be fine… right?

Luckily she didn’t have to wait by the window worrying for long. Less than a minute later, Ford came crashing and banging down the hall. His serious glare lightened to relief for the split second he spared his niece a glance, but then snapped right back to blazing fury as he kicked the door open. Mabel heaved a sigh of relief. If anyone could handle Bill showing up at their front door, it was Grunkle Ford.

She peeked back out the window and watched as her Grunkles exchanged words with Bill. They both approached the problem very differently. Ford was yelling with a bravado that faltered the minute Bill pointed out a flaw in his plan. Stan was treating Bill much like he had Gideon. Outwardly, he seemed calm and unworried, but the fact that he’d sent Mabel inside and fired a gun showed he took the threat seriously. 

Bill’s last threat before he time traveled away sent a chill down Mabel’s spine. She remembered the last time she’d crossed paths with the demon. The note he’d left for her in Grunkle Stan’s car. She couldn’t let Dipper down like that again, couldn’t let him get hurt like that again. They needed each other now more than ever.

Of course, it was some reassurance to know that the barrier spell Grunkle Ford had created was obviously working. That was probably the only reason Bill hadn’t marched right up the porch steps and taken her himself. Mabel was doubly glad she’d been able to get that unicorn hair now.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Stan and Ford came back inside. Ford stopped like he’d just remembered something when he saw Mabel still sitting there. 

“I left Dipper hiding down in the lab! I need to go let him know what happened.”

Stan folded his arms impatiently. “Alright, but make it quick, and if you’re not back up here in ten minutes, I’m coming down after you. I’m serious about that talk.”

Mabel decided to follow Ford down to the secret lab. She was suddenly very concerned about Dipper and his whereabouts. Ford didn’t seem to mind; he just gave her a tired smile when they both stopped at the vending machine to input the code. As the two of them got into the elevator, Mabel wondered if this was a good time to confront her Grunkle about the apprenticeship he’d offered Dipper. But no, Mabel was pretty sure she’d just get mad again, and she didn’t want to feel mad right now. She just wanted to be sure her family was safe. So the elevator ride passed in an uncomfortable silence.

When they arrived in the lab, it appeared empty. Only after Ford stepped out of the elevator and past an oozing pink orb on the floor did Dipper emerge from his hiding spot. It was a pretty good hiding spot, behind what looked like a periscope designed to look like part of the totem pole outside. 

“Mabel!” The boy rushed to hug her immediately. “What happened? Wh-where’s Grunkle Stan, is he alright?”

“Stan is fine, he’s just waiting upstairs.” Ford assured him. “Bill came possessing a time travel agent.”

“He was pretending to be Blendin!” Mabel elaborated. “He wanted me and Grunkle Stan to get something out of the lab for him to stop something terrible from happening in the future!”

“Luckily, Stan recognized him as a threat.” Ford continued. “That was the gunshot we heard earlier.”

Dipper paled and pulled at his hair. “Ohmigosh, did Grunkle Stan kill Blendin!?”

Ford actually chuckled as he got down on one knee and placed a comforting hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “It was just a warning shot. Don’t worry, nobody got hurt. But Bill was furious when I told him I’d sealed the rift. I’m afraid we’re not done protecting it yet.”

“What’s this rift you keep talking about?” Mabel asked. “And what’s that sparkly pink ball of glitter-glue in the middle of the floor?”

“I’ll explain once we get back upstairs. Stan has made it quite clear he wants to talk about what’s going on.” Ford assured her.

* * *

They found Stan waiting in the gift shop, leaning against the checkout counter and tapping his foot in an agitated rhythm. 

“Finally. Now you two kids go to your room, the grown-ups have to have a talk.”

“Stanley, they deserve an explanation just as much as you do! Besides, Dipper already knows.”

“Of course he already knows, you asked the kid to stay here without ever botherin’ to talk to anybody else about it!”

“Who even told you… what does this have to do with the rift?”

“Rift? Wha-- I don’t care what you an’ pudgy out there were yellin’ about, I wanna know how come you’re askin’ your 12-year-old nephew to move in!”

Ford rolled his eyes and groaned with frustration. And here he thought they were finally on the same page for once. “That hardly matters right now! Stopping Bill and protecting the rift should be our top priority! Now, I’m sorry I kept this from the two of you up until now, but I honestly thought it would be safer if you knew as little as possible.Obviously, just the opposite was true.” He omitted the fact that he’d been reluctant to let Mabel know about the rift after seeing her break an entire shelf-full of snow globe souvenirs in the gift shop. 

“Don’t try an’ change the subject, Sixer!” Stan pointed an accusing finger at his brother.

“Grunkle Stan, this is more important!” Dipper interjected exasperatedly.

Mabel tugged at the old conman’s sleeve. “They’re right.” Mabel agreed gently. “Besides, I want to know what’s going on and why Bill was here.”

“Fine.” Stan hissed through gritted teeth. “But we’re havin’ this conversation later, no gettin’ out of it!”

They all had a seat around the card table in the den, and Ford began his explanation. “Bill Cipher is an extradimensional being trying to break his way into our world. Dipper and Mabel have already encountered him--”

“I read all your Journals, genius, I know who Bill Cipher is.” Stan snapped. “But I thought he was some annoying triangle guy who showed up in your dreams, not some pushy time traveler.”

“If you read my Journals thoroughly” Ford said testily, “You’d know he’s capable of tricking people into allowing him to possess them.”

Stan grimaced, probably remembering a few particular passages from Journal 3. “Oh.”

“Not long after I first came to Gravity Falls, I was stupid enough to let Bill trick me. He convinced me that building a portal to another dimension would give me the answers I sought, but what he really wanted was to bring his dimension, the Nightmare Realm, into ours.”

“Yeah, but… then Grunkle Stan got you out of there and the portal was super broken, so we don’t have to worry about him anymore, right?” Mabel asked uncertainly, holding vainly onto hope.

“No.” Ford replied with an icy glare at his brother. “Stanley’s reckless operation of the portal created a rift: an unstable hole in space and time that Bill could use to enter our dimension and plunge the world into a bizarre doomsday I call ‘Weirdmaggedon’.”

Stan snorted. “Still got a flair for names, huh?”

“Stanley, would you take this seriously!?”

“What? I heard you say earlier you sealed the rift, and then that jerk exploded. He wouldn’t’ve gotten mad like that unless what you did really screwed with his plans. From what he was sayin’ I’d guess we’ve got another decade at least until we have to deal with that guy.”

“If the rift is sealed properly, then yes, we’ll have bought some time while Bill searches for another pawn to manipulate, but after what he said earlier, I’m afraid the alien adhesive I used to seal it won’t set as quickly as I had hoped, leaving the rift vulnerable.”

“Eh, he was just sayin’ that to psych you out.” Stan waved his hand dismissively.

“Wait, alien adhesive? Is that what that glass ball of glitter-glue was?” Mabel asked.

“That was the containment unit I was using to keep the rift stable. Once it started cracking, I began searching for something to close it up for good. Just earlier today, Dipper and I were able to retrieve the adhesive without any trouble. I sealed up the rift with glue, then filled the containment dome, just to be safe.”

Mabel slapped her forehead. “Grunkle Ford, haven’t you ever heard of ‘A Little Dab’ll Do Ya’?” 

“What?” Ford asked in confusion. 

“When you’re using glue, you only use just enough to get things to stick together!” Mabel explained. “If you use too much, it’ll take forever to dry! If I filled whole ball with Schmelmer’s glue like that, I don’t think it’d ever dry!”

“Can’t you just spray it with a setting agent?” Stan asked. Everyone stared at him in surprise. “What? I use a lot of crafting glue makin’ exhibits for the Shack!”

“I couldn’t use a two-part epoxy because the energy of the chemical reaction would destabilize the rift.” Ford shook his head. “It needs to crystalize naturally, or it will leave seams in time-space that Bill could use.”

“Well, how long will it take to crystalize naturally?” Dipper asked.

Ford hesitated. “I had hoped it would take a little over 24 hours, but…”

“Not if it’s trapped inside a ball like that.” Mabel shook her head. “Can you get it out?”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose frustratedly. “I’d have to chip away the dome. It’s not just glass, it’s a special substance as strong as steel. But, it has already started cracking, I suppose if I can expand those cracks enough…”

“So, are we still in danger of the rift destabilizing?” Dipper asked.

“Not spontaneously, no.” Ford assured him. “I wouldn’t recommend using it as a football or anything, but even when wet, the adhesive will act as a binding agent and keep the hole in time-space closed. It would take a large burst of energy, or deliberately trying to pierce through the rift in order to open it.”

“And that’s probably what Bill’s gonna try to do.” Dipper said gravely.

“Well we’re not gonna let him!” Mabel declared, slamming her fist down on the table. 

“That’s the spirit!” Ford allowed himself a small smile. He pulled out Journal 3 and turned to a blank page. “Bill said he still had pawns in Gravity Falls. We need to make a list of potential threats to be on the look-out for. Who would be most likely to work with Bill?”

“Gideon!” Mabel answered immediately. “Me and Soos saw him summon Bill earlier this summer!”

“Soos and I.” Ford corrected automatically. He’d only heard about this Gideon from a couple of entries Dipper had added to Journal 3. All he knew about the kid was that he’d apparently had romantic interests in Mabel, hired McGucket to build a giant mech-bot of himself, and was now in jail. It was also clear from the entries that Dipper did not have a high opinion of him. 

“That little troll’s in jail, what’s he gonna do? Use his one phone call to prank us?” Stan rolled his eyes.

“With Bill’s help, there’s no telling what he could do from behind bars.” Ford warned. “But, Stanley does have a point. Are there any other possible pawns who would have easier access to the outside world?”

They all sat there thinking for a moment before Dipper offered his own answer. “I remember seeing a tapestry with Bill on it in the Northwest’s mansion. I don’t know if they realized what it is though, I think they just buy up any local Native American artefacts on principle. It makes them look like they care about the people, when really they’re just trying to keep how horrible Nathaniel Northwest was from getting out and ruining their image.”

“The Northwests have a lot of power over this town. If Bill is working with one of them, protecting the rift will be all the more difficult..” Ford said somberly.

“Luckily, we have an insider with the Northwests!” Mabel grinned. “I’ll call Pacifica tomorrow and ask her to come over and hang out! We can ask her if she’s noticed anything weird about her family then!”

“Good.” Ford nodded. “Anyone else?”

“Eh… pretty sure Toby Determined would sell his soul for a date with Shandra Jimenez.” Stan grunted.

“Noted.” Ford jotted down all their suggestions before continuing. “These are all people we should keep an eye on, but they’re also the most obvious answers… aside from this Toby fellow. Bill will undoubtedly know we suspect them. He doesn’t just work with dangerously unhinged people. Think, is there anyone you wouldn’t normally suspect, who Bill could trick into helping him? Someone with access to this house?”

The three other Pines around the tabel all shared a glance and shrugged.

“Soos is pretty impressionable, but he was there with us when we drove Bill out of Stan’s mind. He knows that triangle guy is bad news.” Mabel answered. “What about Wendy?”

“No way!” Dipper replied vehemently. “Wendy’s way too smart to fall for Bill’s tricks!”

“Unfortunately, being smart has very little to do with it.” Ford reminded him.

“Y-yeah, but…” Dipper stammered. “She’s a different kind of smart! She’s really skeptical and good at reading people. She could tell I had a crush on her, even though I never said anything!” 

Mabel giggled. “That’s because you were really obvious, bro-bro.”

The boy blushed. “Well, what about your friends?”

“You mean Candy and Grenda?” Mabel asked. “I don’t think so. I told them about Bill when we went to get the unicorn hair.”

“Then you would have told Wendy about him too!”

“Oh yeah!” Mabel remembered. “I’m not sure she believed me though. She definitely didn’t believe in unicorns before we found one.”

“Well, that’s everyone who comes here on a regular basis.” Stan leaned back in his chair. “Besides, y’know, the dozens of tourists who come through the gift shop every day.”

Ford paled. “All he would have to do is convince one tourist… Stanley why on Earth did you think it was a good idea to build a gift shop in the same room as the lab entrance!?”

“The best hiding spots are always in plain sight, genius!” Stan retorted. “You don’t gotta worry, tourist season is wrappin’ up, traffic’s gone down a lot. Shouldn’t be too hard to keep an eye on things.”

“You’re out giving your so-called ‘tours’ half the time.”

“Then I’ll ask Soos to keep an eye on the entrance.”

“No, he’s far too easily distracted. I’ll stay in the gift shop and guard the entrance.” Ford insisted.

Stan rolled his eyes. “That’s just gonna draw attention to it, knucklehead! Look, I got security cameras. If you really gotta watch the vending machine every minute, you can watch the video feed from my office.”

“Fine.”

“Welp, would you look at that! We’ve discussed who the heck Bill Cipher is, what he wants, and what we’re gonna do about it!” Stan stood up from his chair abruptly. “Guess this conversation’s over. And would you look at the time! Time to get you kids up to bed!”

“But it’s still light out!” Dipper protested.

“The sun sets really late out here in the summer. You don’t know what time it is!” Stan began to push the kids out of the room.

“I have a watch! It’s only like 7:30!”

Stan quickly swiped the watch off his nephew’s wrist. “What watch? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about. It’s bedtime!”

The young twins, seeing that trying to reason with Stan at this point was an exercise in futility, reluctantly allowed themselves to be shepherded upstairs. 

In the short amount of time while they were gone, Stanford found his mind wandering back to one particular thing Bill had said.

“I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO WHO CAN! WHADDAYA SAY, MAC? CARE TO HELP ME STICK IT TO YOUR UNGRATEFUL BROTHER?”

Bill was a liar. Of course this was a lie too, right? Stan didn’t hate him, right? Stan had immediately turned Bill down, after all. That might just be because he knew Bill was dangerous though… because he just wanted to protect the kids….

“Alright, you’d better have one heck of an explanation.” Stan returned and Ford was reminded of just why he was so mad at his brother.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to invite someone to move into my own house!”

“It’s not my permission you need! Have you even talked to their parents yet?”

“Well, no…” Ford admitted. “But it’d be a waste of time to ask them if it turns out Dipper isn’t interested. And besides, I’m sure they’d be thrilled at the opportunity to accelerate their son’s education.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You don’t know their mom, Poindexter. She expects a letter from her kids every week.”

“Well, I’m sure we could keep up that tradition.”

“And every time she calls lately, she’s been goin’ on and on about how excited she is to see her ‘little lamby’ again. She’s not gonna be thrilled her son isn’t coming home.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “You make it sound as if he’s going to die! We’ll make time to go visit the family between projects, and I know communications technology has made huge advancements in the last 30 years. I saw your handyman communicating via a two-way video stream just last night.”

“That’s not the same as him actually being there!” Stan shouted. “He’s still just a kid, Stanford! He still needs his parents!”

“Alright, alright, I’ll call their parents and talk to them about it!” Ford relented. “Is that all?”

“No that’s not all!” Stan fumed, “It’s bad enough you’re offering Dipper an apprenticeship without gettin’ an OK from their parents first, but where do you get off excluding Mabel?”

Ford was taken aback. “I’m not excluding her.”

“You gave Dipper an opportunity to stay here with you, but not her. That’s pretty much the definition of excluding! Earlier today she was almost in tears about having to leave Gravity Falls and bein’ scared of the future. I had to give her a big ol’ pep-talk about how growin’ old is mandatory, but growin’ up is optional, and that even if her future ain’t so bright, at least she’s got her brother. Then, not even an hour later, you two come back from your science shenanigans and she goes wailing out to the front porch! All ‘cuz you want Dipper but not her!”

“It’s not like that at all!” Ford bristled. “Mabel has vastly different interests than Dipper. I couldn’t provide her with the same kind of quality education I could give him! At best I could give her a few tips about detailed pen sketching and blueprint drafting. The most I know about knitting is that I feel comfortable in a soft sweater, and she’d have to be the one to teach me about social structure and modern culture.”

“Oh, so that makes it ok to take her brother away?”

“I’m not ‘taking him away’! Dipper would be free to visit his family in California whenever he’s not busy!” Ford flushed with anger.  “And since I’ll be his only teacher, he’ll be able to request time off and breaks very easily. His schedule will be much more flexible than at a traditional university or college.”

“He’s freakin’ twelve Stanford! He hasn’t even finished Junior High yet! Why are you so eager to start him on grown-up school already?”

“Why wait? Dipper is intelligent, resourceful, and a fast learner. He’d already started following in my footsteps before we even met, I’m just helping him continue on that path. And it’s not ‘grown-up school’. We’d be studying and researching the weirdness of Gravity Falls together.”

“He’s not an adult, Ford, he still needs time to be a kid! He can’t be your new research assistant! Now answer my question: why can’t you just wait until he’s older?”

“Because I don’t want to be alone anymore!” 

Ford’s last statement hung in the air, reverberating like a pin dropped in an empty theater. The old researcher couldn’t believe his emotions had gotten the better of him like that. Just like that, a statement he wasn’t even comfortable admitting to himself had slipped out. He couldn’t even begin to defend or explain what he’d just said. 

Stan’s eyes widened at the unexpected outburst, but his face quickly morphed back into the scowl Stanford was all too familiar with.

“Oh, you don’t wanna be alone, huh? Well, maybe you shoulda thought of that before you kicked me out of the house come the end of Summer!”

“Wait, what?” Ford asked, perplexed.

“Oh, don’t play dumb!” Stan accused. “That first night after I brought you home, you said I could stay here the rest of the summer to watch the kids, then I gotta hit the road.”

“That’s not what I said!”  Ford objected. “I said you could stay upstairs and take care of the kids and run your ‘Mystery Shack’ until the end of the summer, so you can continue bringing in enough money to take care of them. But once the summer is over, I want-- no, I need my home and my identity back. And I’m not going to allow you to continue running a glorified freak show that goes against everything I’ve worked for!”

“And why would I stay, if you’re gonna make me shut down my livelihood?” 

Ford’s breath hitched as the memory of Bill’s words echoed in his head once again. I KNOW SOMEONE WHO HATES YOU AS MUCH AS I DO.

“Well, for one, I’m going to need your help undoing your identity theft.” The old researcher continued after pushing the thought to the back of his head. “And… I know you haven’t got anywhere else to go. I’m not going to just throw you out. I’m not Dad, Stanley.”

Stan stared at his brother with a mixture of surprise and some more complex emotions Ford couldn’t name. 

“Y-yeah, well…” The old conman seemed, for once, to be at a loss for words.

Ford just wished he knew what his brother was thinking. The old researcher had never been good at reading people, but as a child, Stan, at least, was someone he always understood. But now, his brother was even more of an enigma than the average stranger. Ford found himself on the verge of asking… do you really hate me?

“Dang it, this isn’t about us!” Stan snapped, “Stop making this about us! It’s about the kids!”

“I’m making it about us? You’re the one who started complaining about something I didn’t even say!” Ford huffed a frustrated sigh. He was tired. Tired from a long day and tired of fighting. “Look, if this whole apprenticeship thing is bothering Mabel so much, I’ll talk to her about staying here too. I can’t give her the kind of education she needs, but perhaps I can find someone who can.”

Stan threw his hands up in disbelief. “Seriously!? Unbelievable! Have you even listened to a word I’ve said, this whole conversation!?”

“Obviously I have, otherwise I wouldn’t have agreed with your demands to call the kids’ parents and include Mabel in the apprenticeship offer. Nor would I have caught your erroneous assumption that you have the leave at the end of the summer.”

“The whole point I’ve been tryin’ to make to you this whole time is that ya can’t just take these kids away from their home!”.

“I’m not taking them away from their home. You said the two of them have been here for over two months.”

“Yeah, and then they’re goin’ back home next weekend. To their parents. To their real lives.”

“Life is just as real here.” Ford said with finality. “I told you, I’ll talk to their parents tomorrow. That should settle it.”

Stan’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, yeah I guess it will.”

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Snowballs in Summer

Summary:  Your day goes from bad to worse when Snowball escapes.  Luckily for you, retired war hero and newly minted firefighter, Bucky Barnes is on hand to rescue a damsel in distress.  

Words:  3.5k

Warnings:  Nothing much, just a little bit of sexual tension, a whole bunch of fluff and some vicious cat antics.

A/N:  Firefighter cliché - Snowball is a demon cat, Bucky is a babe.  Written for @marvelfulxbabes​ writing challenge, filling the prompt of Firefighter AU.  Thank you to @sassy-pelican​, @overlordintraining​ and @s-trawberryv-eins​ for reading this through for me to make sure I’m not ‘tarding hard

 “Come down from there, this instant!”  You commanded with a stern tone, more irritated than you had ever been with the white ball of fur that was currently the bane of your existence.  “Snowball?!”

The late morning sun filtered through the foliage of the sycamore tree, dappling the shaded grass with a myriad of dancing sunbeams.  On any other day you might admire them and take inspiration, but not today. Today it was easily 95 degrees out and you had a job interview at a coffee shop in the city which you were going to miss because of that stupid cat.

You paced the lawn in your heels, pencil skirt and white blouse, the latter had already begun to stick to the damp skin of your lower back on account of the heat; you felt uncomfortable and it added to your annoyance.  Curse that damn cat.

Snowball was your sister’s cat, and you were minding her while your sister was away on a month-long vacation.  Something about a sabbatical from work, seeing the world, once in a life-time opportunity, yadda yadda yadda. Of course you’d look after her cat.  The trouble was that your sister lived up state and you couldn’t be away from your studio, which was essentially your garage, so Snowball had moved in.

You were on day five of being a cat mamma and Snowball had already made you her bitch.  She slept on your bed and scratched any unprotected piece of skin if you so much as thought of infringing upon her space.  Whatever chair you were on she wanted to be on, when you ate she’d attack your plate, invade your privacy when you peed (yes she could open doors), there were ladders in all of your stockings, white hairs on all of your clothes, she’d even peed in your favourite sneakers.

So, there you were, stood under the tree at the end of your front yard, covered in scratches and fur, begging the vindictive demon of a cat to take pity on you so you could please please attend this job interview before you were so broke you couldn’t make your mortgage payment.

“She doesn’t look very sympathetic to your plight.”  A deep but soft voice startled you so much you squeaked.

“Holyfuckingshit!”  Your mouth ran as you panicked, hand splayed on your chest.

“Sorry.”  The tall brunette with electric blue eyes stepped forward to steady you with a hand on your elbow.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.” Breathless and sweaty from running, he looked at you with concern.

He was gorgeous, muscular, lean and fit.  Lightly tanned skin on display under a tight white wife beater and some grey jersey shorts.  The Polynesian tattoo sleeve that adorned his left arm practically had you panting. You laughed nervously and swayed on your feet, heels digging into the lawn; you’d been on your tiptoes so as not to get your stilettos snagged in the grass.  Who wore stilettos to an interview at a coffee shop anyway?

“Can I help at all?”  He offered, face softening from worry to the cutest smile you’d ever seen.

“If by some miracle you’re a cat whisperer then, yeah.”  You looked up at the demon in question, innocently looking down from high up in the branches.  “I don’t rate your chances though, she’s pure evil.”

The man laughed a soft chortle and extended his hand.  “Name’s James.” He took your hand but rather than shake it he dipped into a slight bow, pressing his lips to your knuckles softly.  “James the cat whisperer, at your service milady.”

You simpered despite your best efforts not to.  Sure, James was charming but he’d just walked up to you on the street and you didn’t know him from Adam.  What if he was a serial killer or something? He didn’t look like a serial killer though. But then again, they say that neither did Ted Bundy.

You sighed and told him your name, curtseying as well as you could in your tight skirt, keeping up the precedence he had set with his old-world chivalry.  “And this is Snowball, bane of my hall and hearth, wound maker, stealer of beds, destroyer of hosiery.”

“Oh no!”  James laughed so hard he held his stomach.  “I hope you keep your best stockings locked in an iron casket.  We can’t have such a beast destroying a good lady’s pretties.”

“Alas they are all gone, fallen prey to claw and callousness.”  You feign to swoon and instinctively James grabs your arm, blushing when he realised you weren’t really going to fall.  “Seriously though, if you can work some magic and get her down then I might still be able to make my interview,” you glance down at your watch, “scratch that, I’m already late.”  

“Give them a call, they might reschedule.”  He said as he emptied his pockets onto the grass and unstrapped his phone that was in a running holder on his bicep.  “I’ll get your cat down and hopefully you can make the next one.”

You grinned.  “You’re a life-saver.”

With a shrug and a smile that said don’t mention it, James looked up into the branches, squinting a little as the dappled light caught his eye.  Snowball was alert and deceptively passive as she looked down at her would-be rescuer. You knew different – she was plotting his demise.

The manager of Java Joes wasn’t as understanding as you’d hoped.  He said his recruitment team would get back in touch, but you didn’t hold out much hope.  You were put out but couldn’t be mad, it was your fault that Snowball had escaped after all.  You’d just have to keep looking for work until you could sell some of your artwork.

James was under the tree, eyeing up the lower branches when you returned.  He’d been trying to coax Snowball down when you’d been on the phone but that had been about as much use as a chocolate fireguard.

“Stand back.”  He said without waiting to find out the verdict from your phone call, and ushers you away from the trunk.  “If I fall and crush you then tyrant cats will be the least of your worries.” He licks his lips nervously and readies himself.

“If you fall?  What-”

His cheeky wink silenced you right before he bounded towards the tree like he was about to do the high jump.  He got two steps up the trunk and rebounded up towards the lowest branch some fifteen feet off the ground. One-handed he latched on swinging precariously but his grip was firm, tendons and muscles corded tight.  He took the opportunity to look down at you with a grin before he positioned his right hand and inched towards the thicker end of the branch to pull himself up.

“Very impressive.”  You flirted. “Not only are you a cat whisperer but part monkey as well.  Is there any end to your talents, sir?”

“Apparently I make crap coffee.”  He snorted, remaining focused on his footing as he manoeuvred to the next branch up.

James seemed a little too bulky for parkour, you thought, but he was more agile than any man his size you had seen before (including firefighter Steve, your neighbour on the right).  James was strong and pretty; definitely a panty dampener.  Your neighbour on the left (divorcee Denise) was already out pretending to trim her bushes, ogling James as he flexed and climbed; that woman had banged her way around the neighbourhood since her husband left her for his secretary.  You frowned, already possessive of what little interaction you’ve shared with this hot stranger.

“If you get her down, I’ll make you a cup of the good stuff.”  You promised. After all, your morning and afternoon were now devoid of plans.

“If?”  He scoffed, scandalised.  “I’m offended you doubt my cat rescuing skills.”  His sentence was punctuated with a grunt as he jumped for another branch which was precariously far away.  Rather than climb through a cluster of smaller, weaker branches, he’d elected to go around. It was more dangerous and with your heart in your throat you watched him leap the distance.

“Please don’t hurt yourself.”  You called, fear breaking your voice.  You weren’t ready to deal with broken bones, or worse, if he fell.

Up in the tree, Snowball began to back away as James neared just below.  She hissed and growled, spat and clawed at him as he reached for her. While her attention was focused on one hand, he snaked his other underneath and grabbed her from behind.

Carnage ensued and the white ball of fur became a dervish of twisting limbs and threatening screeches.  At first you thought James would let her go to spare himself from her claws, but he gripped her close, enduring scratches to his neck and chest.  When she calmed enough for him to secure her with one hand, he cautiously began the climb down. Your heart was hammering in your chest. How would he get down with one arm rendered useless?

He inched his way awkwardly through the snagging twigs and branches he’d avoided on the way up, which yielded more scratches, picking his way ever so carefully so as not to jostle his passenger.  She seemed content enough with the blood she’d drawn and lay still against his chest; the only evidence of her annoyance was the swish of her tail.

“I can’t believe you got her.”  You puffed out a relieved breath when James was finally sat on the lowest branch.  It was still fifteen feet off the ground, but he could drop the cat down to you and jump down safely.

“If there’s one thing I’m good for, it’s helping a damsel in distress.  Right, Snowball?” He petted her and she grumbled. “Though it is pretty cliché.”  He muttered almost too quietly for you to hear.

“Here,” you stepped underneath him, your eyes tracing the line of tanned muscle up under the hem of his shorts, his thigh looked smooth and strong, and you swallowed dryly.  “I’ll catch her.”

“It’s ok.”  He smiled softly.  “I got her.” He swung his leg over the branch, holding on with his left hand and letting his legs dangle.  Slowly he lowered himself in a reverse one-arm pull-up, until his arm was fully extended. He paused there as Snowball began to struggle once more, pushing and scratching at him to be set free.  He dropped, landing with a slight stumble on a tree root or maybe a patch of uneven grass, but he was safe and so was Snowball.

“You stupid moggy.  I’m definitely taking my bed back after this, you ungrateful little shit.”  You chastise the feline as James handed her over to you, his hands brushed parts of you that you could only dream of him touching otherwise.  He seemed to notice and offered an apologetic wince.

“She’s a stubborn little lady, isn’t she?”  He said with a wry smile.

“You could say that.”  You sighed and he chuckled, bright and warm.

“They say pets take on the personality traits of their owners.”  He teased with a cheeky smile. Suddenly the heat of the day was forgotten, the stifling sheen of sweat on your skin a thing of no consequence, damp clothes and discomfort a thought from the past.  Now all you felt was a warmth in your gut that tingled, and an effervescent thrill in your chest. The man was stunning, beautiful even. The urge to capture his essence on canvas was almost painful, the urge to touch him was harder still to resist.

You swallow dryly.  “If that’s the case then my sister is the right-hand-man of Beelzebub himself.”  You deadpanned.

James’s laugh burst forth, the first splutter developing into a slightly goofy chortle that was both genuine and contagious.  “Well that explains a lot.” He calmed himself with a sigh. “You didn’t strike me as the virgin sacrificing kind.”

“Can’t think of a better use for them.”  You were too distracted by the way his smile transforms his face that you just replied automatically, saying something you’d say to a close friend.  “They’re no good for sex, and if it means there’ll be no more pussy problem then I’m game.”

There was a moment where you weren’t sure what had him laughing so hard but the you snorted and let the contagious laughter take over.  Snowball’s struggles against your breast were forgotten in the giddy thrill of the moment. It was several minutes until you were both calm enough to talk.

The heat of the day, now unbearable, reasserted its presence.  James used the hem of his shirt to mop his brow, displaying toned planes of perfect musculature and smooth skin now adorned by multitudes of angry red scratches.

Guilt flooded in.  “I’m so sorry.” You felt terrible.  “What a mess.”

“It’s fine.  I’ve survived worse.”  His smile was meant to be reassuring but there was something sad about it and you felt it too, there was no reason for him to linger, except…

“I owe you a coffee at least, sir cat whisperer.”  You bowed your head slightly, resuming the dynamic you’d previously shared.  “Will you let me to patch you up? It’s the least I can do.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he seemed unsure, “what about your interview?”

You shook your head with a weary thin-lipped smile.  No words were needed, you knew you wouldn’t hear from them so it was back to the drawing board on the job front.

“Sorry about that.  I should have been quicker.”  He picked his things up from the grass, keys and wallet stuffed back into the pockets of his now slightly grubby shorts, and phone in hand.

“Pfft, the damage was already done thanks to this one.”  You gave Snowball’s head a rub and she yowled at you in disgust.  There would be tantrums later but she sure as hell wasn’t getting cooked chicken breast for her supper tonight, she was getting regular cat food after that little stunt.

“All right, lead the way.”

==========

The air in your home was so much cooler in contrast to outside that you broke out into goosebumps instantly.  James followed you, silently looking around like a tourist. If he was surprised by the eclectic mix of décor he didn’t show it.  Instead he wore a pleased smile as you lead him to the kitchen.

With Snowball deposited on the floor, you got your first aid kit out and set the espresso jug on the gas ring to brew later.  You didn’t often drink espresso but an americano made with good espresso was infinitely better than the crap that comes out of a jar or standard filter coffee.  James watched you as you worked, eyes following you intermittently as he wrote a quick text on his phone.

Hands washed and supplies at the ready; you regarded him, sat on one of your breakfast stools looking delicious if completely scratched up.

“Can I…?”  You gestured to his wounds, asking permission to touch him.

“Oh!  Sure.”  He hesitated for only a moment before stripping his top away, leaving your jaw hanging while you practically eye-fucked him.

This man… God damn!

You focused on cleaning and disinfecting the collection of slashes and gouges on his neck, chest and arms.  Stood between his spread knees, you delicately drew the antiseptic soaked cotton ball over each scratch, wiping away the dried blood.  You took your time, ensuring each one, even those he could see himself, were cleaned. What better excuse for you to have your hands all over this gorgeous man who you would probably never see again afterwards.

The tension in the air was reflected in the heavy blush on your cheeks as you swab a particularly deep scratch on his throat.  He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing under your touch and when your eyes lifted to meet his you found him staring and breathing hard.  You were both so close, inches apart but the divide of unfamiliarity too wide to cross.

The more you touched him the warmer you became until you couldn’t meet his gaze for fear of what he might see.   You were never very good at hiding your emotions, never able to lie and this would be no different, you wore your attraction to him like a badge.  A shamefully red badge all over your face.

His hands twitched on his knees; a stifled urge to touch you, perhaps, or to relieve you of your duty.  That moment of unsurety had him searching your downturned face in the silence that lay between you, which was bursting with electricity.

“Y/n?”  He said softly and your eyes snapped up to his face.  In that moment you saw something in him that spun your world around: adulation.

James laid one hand on your hip tentatively and drew you forward.  Forgotten were the scratches and the antiseptic swabs. Forgotten were the thoughts that you were strangers to each other.  Forgotten was your hesitancy as you leaned towards him, eyes flitting between his plush lips and his brilliant blue eyes. He reached up to thread his fingers into the hair at your nape-

A knock at the back door startled you both and you jumped back.  Your neighbour, Steve, was stood outside peering in through the glass with a goofy smirk on his face.

“I hope you don’t mind,” James said in a rush, “I texted Steve to let him know I was here.”

“You know my neighbour?”  You gestured for Steve to come in as James nodded.  How had you never seen this man before if he was a friend of Steve and Sharon?

“Hey, y/n.”  Steve was always chipper but today he seemed so much more so.  “Thanks for keeping this one occupied.” The tall blonde smirked at the state of his friend, topless and scratched up.  “What happened to you, huh?”

Was that a micro wink you saw just then?

“I did the cliché firefighter thing.”  James said, rolling his eyes at the suggestive nature of Steve’s comment.  “I was jogging ‘round the block waiting for you to show up and y/n needed some help with Snowball.”

“First week on the job and you’re rescuing cats.”  Steve laughed. He knew all about Snowball, having been there that first day and helped you bring all of her cat ‘furniture’ in from your car.  “You’re a brave man.”

“So, you two are good friends?”

“We’ve been inseparable since we were kids.  Bucky and me, we-”

“Wait!  This is Bucky?”  You’d heard all about Army hero Bucky Barnes.  Stories from Steve about his childhood, stories from Sharon about Steve’s bachelor party, and other events where the myth of Bucky Barnes was woven into the legend of the perfect friend.  Steve loved this man like his own brother, but he was only ever a fable until now. “You’re the guy who made Steve puke all over himself on a rollercoaster? The guy who fell from a moving train and broke his arm to save Steve’s life?  The guy who Sharon’s Grandma Maggie wouldn’t stop talking about-”

“Oh god!”  Bucky groaned and fixed Steve with a warning stare.  “We agreed never to talk about the Maggie thing.”

“I might have told y/n.”  Steve winced. “It’s not that bad.”

“Well, I gotta tell you,” you cocked a brow, “the Grandma Maggie story was…hot!”  Fanning yourself salaciously, you smirked at him.

Bucky groaned but it wasn’t long before he was laughing and all the tension between you had seeped away.  The way his whole face lit up when he smiled, the endearing but nervous swipe of his tongue across his lips when he tried to regain control, and the shining blue fire in his eyes.  All of it had you wishing you could see him like this every single day from now on.

The conversation flowed so naturally between you, Steve and his life-long friend, you were sad when you finally finished cleaning up all of James’s cuts and talk turned to their afternoon gym plans.  Steve finally excused himself and James trailed after him, dawdling behind to offer you an apologetic smile, but he was still leaving. You panicked.

“So, fireman Bucky?”  You called and he turned in the doorway, the sun illuminating his perfect form.  “Will I see you again?”

You could just make out his surprise before it was overtaken by his most brilliant smile.  “Well, you do owe me that coffee.”

“How about tomorrow?”  Your heart was hammering in your chest.  Be brave, you told yourself.  “I’d love to hear the story of how Sir James tamed vicious Grandma Maggie.”

“How about tonight instead?”  His smile tugged at your heart, curling the corners of his mouth coquettishly.  “I’d hate to deprive you of my most embarrassing tale.” He picked up the flirt so effortlessly, your selfless knight in topless glory.

“Come by around six?”

James grinned big and, with a chivalrous bow, disappeared in Steve’s wake.

You began to prepare Snowball an early supper; chicken breast.  She deserved a big reward after all.

[hq-cuties-pls]

Queen of Crows: Daichi x Reader

This is a commission I'm posting with the commissioner's go-ahead. Please enjoy this Mythology/Arranged Marriage AU

~Admin Emma

***

You’d always known you had a destined prince. Your parents told you all time time. As a girl, it had been a story. Something with which to play pretend, but it wasn’t real. You would take your pretend prince on adventures, saving him from monsters and solving puzzles and exploring the little patch of foggy woods near your apartment building. Your prince became something of an imaginary friend, but grounded child that you were, you knew it was make-believe. 

It was kid stuff… until you actually met him. 

On the day you turned 15, your apartment was paid a visit by Gods. They didn’t specifically say they were Gods, but you knew. Being in their presence was something akin to standing at the center of a storm. His father was a tall man, broad shouldered and strong. His features were hard and square, and his face was unnervingly, agelessly smooth despite the white shock through his dark hair. His mother, on the other hand, was the opposite. Soft where his father was hard, warm where he was cool, golden where he was pale. Her eyes shifted unnervingly between spring green, summer gold, earthen brown, and deep black… it was almost nauseating to watch. The aura surrounding them was unmistakable… you felt wrong for looking directly at them. Some ancient instinct wailed for you to drop to your knees, prostrate yourself before them… 

Then, you met Daichi. 

He looked about your age, with his father’s broad features and his mother’s warm coloring. He saw you and dipped into a formal bow, but he didn’t say anything. You didn’t know what to say, either. So you just bowed back… that seemed right. 

“My name is Daichi, future God of crows, carrion, and scavengers.” 

“Um… I’m ____. Please, take care of me.” 

“Lord Hades.” Your father’s sudden entrance broke the strange tension that passed between you. “Lady Persephone. So glad you could join us. Please, come in.” 

“Thank you for having us,” the man--Hades--said smoothly, escorting his wife by the arm. “I’m pleased we were able to arrange these things amicably. These negotiations used to be… quite barbaric.” 

You shivered… you didn’t know much about Greek mythology (reality… unless you were running the worst fever and this was the wildest fever dream) but the image of Andromeda chained to a rock certainly came to mind. It took so long to process what you were seeing that before you knew it, Hades and Persephone were seated across from your parents, tea was being served, and the only empty spot at the table was right next to Daichi. If you didn’t know, he’d look like any other boy from your class. Maybe one you wouldn’t even notice… he looked so normal. 

“Let us be frank,” Persephone said, folding her elegant brown hands in front of her. “We’ll spare you the unsavory details, but there is a prophecy. As we explained to your wife, ____-san, we firmly believe your daughter is key to circumventing said prophecy.” 

Despite the tumult of questions you suddenly had, there was an eerie--almost unnatural sense of calm. In short, your parents were negotiating your… your marriage. To Daichi. A future God. Figures you’d only read about in storybooks and class textbooks were having tea in your livingroom, negotiating the ins-and-outs of your eventual wedding. 

“We’ll wait until they’re 25, of course,” Persephone offered, petting her husband’s arm. “We’d like them to have a normal childhood, if at all possible.” 

“And we’ll make as many concessions to your...ah… faith?” Hades turned to his wife, as if to check his word choice. She nodded and he continued, “Yes, faith, as we can. However, in order for the union to be binding, it will have to be in the Underworld.” 

Surprisingly, Daichi was the one who interjected angrily, “You don’t have to talk about us like we aren’t in the room. I’m right here.” 

“Apologies, son,” Hades said, almost patronizing. He patted his son awkwardly on the head, and it looked like Daichi barely resisted the urge to swat at his father’s hand. Something about this amused you, drawing a small laugh out of your chest. 

“These negotiations are, unfortunately, necessary, my love.” Persephone smiled gently at you, even though she was talking to Daichi. “But you two can go spend some time together. Maybe get to know each other while we speak to ____’s parents?” 

“That might be wise,” your father said with his own easy smile. “____, maybe you should take Daichi-kun and make some more tea.” 

You shrugged, secretly grateful for an excuse to get out of the living room. Whether or not Daichi came with you, well… it’s not like you actively disliked him. You didn’t know him. Yet, it seemed that you didn’t have much of a choice, so you figured it wouldn’t exactly hurt to get to know him. 

Daichi followed you into the kitchen, where you busied yourself with making tea. He seemed interested in the various trappings of your small kitchen, but conversation was nonexistent. What did you even say to each other… 

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “About my parents, I mean. They’re… a lot.”

“I mean…” You laughed to yourself, thinking of Hades looking to his wife for help, Persephone’s gentle doting, and the loving way in which they held each other. Looked at one another… “They’re sweet. They’re nothing like I expected, given what I’ve… ah… what I’ve read.” 

Daichi chuckled to himself, looking less like a young God and more like a boy from your class. He was handsome when he smiled like that, and would probably be drowning in confessions if he went to your school; “Yeah, my aunt has it out for my dad. According to Dad, anyway. But… well. Can I tell you a secret?” 

You shrugged, measuring out tea leaves into your little kyusu teapot; “Sure. I mean, you’re going to be my husband someday, so I don’t see why not.” 

At that, Daichi’s eyes cast down to his socks...surprisingly normal for someone destined to be the God of Crows; “That’s… that’s just it, actually. I’ve… I’ve seen my mother and father for 15 years, and they’re… ridiculously in love. When Mom has to return to Olympus, Dad is… so sad, and he never smiles quite like when Mom comes back. I know that's like… gross, or whatever… but I’ve always admired it about them. It’s something I’ve always wanted. For someone to love me like Mom loves Dad.”

You opened and closed your mouth, utterly at a loss for words. Thankfully, he continued without further prompting on your part. 

“So that’s why… if you don’t want this, you don’t have to do it.”

You sputtered, nearly dropping your tea pot in shock; “B-but… the prophecy! And your parents--” 

“Hang the prophecy, and I’ll deal with my parents. Whatever they promised your family, I’ll deliver.” Daichi fixed you with a gaze filled with an honest intensity that made him look so much older than 15. “I want a partner who loves me. For me. Not one who stays out of obligation, or worse… worse if my parents purchased their affection. That’s… I can’t. It’s probably naive of me, but I can’t. So if you want out, just say the word, and I’ll get you out. I swear on the River Styx.” 

There was a distant rumble, and the sudden tense atmosphere told you that this wasn’t an idle promise. This had weight and meaning… 

“Well…” You shifted from foot to foot, unsure how to respond. “I’m… not sure. I don’t know you very well, and… can I… can I think about it? Maybe we could… I don’t know… go on a date, or something?” 

“A date?” 

Daichi tilted his head in askance, and it occured to you that he looked very cute like that. 

“Yeah. Like… I don’t know. A movie or a cafe or something. So we can talk. Then, we can decide.” 

Decide if we want to get married, went unsaid. You were teenagers, after all. How could you expect to decide on forever when you were barely in high school. Still, Daichi’s smile was surprisingly warm, and it was something you found yourself wanting to see. 

“I think I’d like that,” he said, extending his hand to you. “I’ll… arrange something fun. Well… my best friends can help me arrange something fun. I’m bad at this kind of stuff.” 

“I… look forward to it.” 

~~~

One date at a Starbucks turned to two. Which turned to three and four and countless more. Daichi took you places you could only dream of, secret places between dimensions only accessible by the gods. You couldn’t take him to lagoons with pools made of moonlight, or caves with real stars dotting the obsidian walls… but he seemed equally taken aback by the cherry blossoms in Tsutsujigaoka park or the Izumi Botanical gardens. He seemed to like places like that... close to nature. 

As you got older, you spent more time together, and you got to know the delightfully silly boy at Daichi’s core. You learned of his love for dogs, born from being raised around Cerberus (ultimate dog, if Daichi was to be believed) and the many dog spirits that passed through the Underworld on their way to Elysium. You learned of his competitive spirit, of his friendships with Asahi--a son of Apollo and a nymph--and Suga--a mysterious son of Hermes. He told you of Olympus and the Underworld, and of his dreams to someday live his life in the sun. Among mortals. Not above them, and not beneath them. 

He, in turn, got to know you. Your hopes and dreams and passions. He learned of your wit and your biting sense of humor, your compassion, your enthusiasm and general verve… you were alive. Bursting with life and light, according to him. As you grew closer and closer, he started looking at you like the sun rose and set in your eyes--a look that made foreign (but not unwelcome) tingles run from your head to your toes. 

And at the end of every encounter, when your visit was coming to an end, he would ask the same thing. 

“Will I see you again?” 

The implication was clear… you knew all you had to do was tell him ‘no’ and you’d never see him again. He’d separate himself from your life, and that would be that. At first, when you were a teenager developing feelings for a boy for the first time, you’d kept him around out of curiosity and the desire to see things through. But as you got older, as you and Daichi became closer… he was more than your fiance. You were more than just a pair of kids caught in an old-fashioned arrangement… somewhere along the way, Daichi had become one of your best friends. Somehow, despite your forcefully entwined fates, you’d come to care a great deal about Daichi.

The idea of saying goodbye permanently became absolutely abhorrent. So you always answered, “of course.”

It was always like that. It was your pattern. You’d see each other, have a good time, and part on those words alone. It became a comfortable routine, even as the wedding drew nearer. And the longer you drew it out, the harder it became to leave him entirely. In the years since you met Daichi, he had become so precious to you… 

Beyond that, he’d grown up so handsome. Almost ridiculously so. All signs of softness and roundness had disappeared with the last of his baby fat, leaving behind a ridiculously chiseled face. Staunchy masculine and sharp in every way, and yet his eyes remained so beautiful and warm. The way he’d look at you, you’d see his mother’s springtime sun shining through that beautiful, chocolatey brown. When he touched you, your whole body drew up tight, greedily wanting more than a chaste touch at the small of your back, or a gentle grasp of your hand as he gallantly kissed your knuckles. 

Daichi had grown to be too much for you in almost every way… and you loved him for it.

Finally, the wedding drew near. You’d taken him on a day trip to see Akiu Waterfall on the outskirts of Sendai, and it was getting late. Your small apartment had been filled to the brim with flowers from Persephone’s garden, and Hades himself had delivered the finest jewels of his domain. A wedding dress made of dusky organza and lace so delicate it may as well have been smoke and feathers hung, flawless and perfectly fitted, in your closet.  

“So,” Daichi said softly, helping you navigate a particularly tricky bit of slick rock. “In a few days, we have to make our decision.” 

You ignored how the summer-warm heat of his hand against your back made you shiver, how it sent awareness through all of your limbs just to be near him. More than his celestial presence, something about this man had started to do terrible things to you. And he was so close… 

“I think…” you swallowed to dislodge the lump that stuck in your throat. “I think it’s a little late for that. At this point, it’d be a huge hassle to cancel. Can you even get your deposits back?” 

“You’re so funny,” Daichi said dryly, pausing to stroke the sleek feathers of a raven attempting to capture his attention. Over the years, the black birds had become drawn to him. You were sure that rambunctious Yuu and little Shouyo were your favorites. You idly wondered who this handsome devil was. “I mean it, ____. Just say the word, and I’ll leave. You can wait until the day of if you have to…”

For some reason, his insistence on your ‘freedom’ stung. You swallowed again, but your throat remained stubbornly thick; “Is that what you want? For me to leave? Call this off and never see me again?” 

There was a long pause. Long enough you turned to look at him, taken aback at the almost sad expression on his face; “If… if it makes you happy, then yes.” 

The word change was so slight… from ‘if that’s what you want’ to ‘if it makes you happy…’ 

“First, answer something for me.” You grabbed a seat on a relatively dry patch of rock, focusing on the breathtakingly beautiful waterfall and not the man just a few paces away from you. “We’ve known each other for 10 years… that should be enough for honesty, yes?” 

“I’ve always been honest with you, ____.” 

“Except you haven’t.” You balled your hands into tight fists, refusing to look at him. You had to say your piece, and if you looked into those perfect eyes… you’d be a goner. “You’ve always left this decision to me, Daichi, and we’re… we’re friends, at least. And I deserve better than that! So be honest with me… what do you want?” 

For a second, it looked like he was just going to repeat his desire for your happiness. Tell you that he didn’t care about himself or what his future. But he didn’t. He gave a long, thoughtful pause, idly stroking the raven perched on his arm. The only sounds were the guttural purrs of pleasure from the bird and the sibilant rush of the waterfall. 

“I want…” he bit his lip, his answer almost too quiet to hear. “I want to get married on Saturday.” 

You sat, frozen, unsure how to react. You always pictured this moment, and in your fantasies you were always a smooth and composed fairy tale princess, worthy of the wife of a God. The reality proved much more… embarrassing than that, given your surprised little squeak. 

“You… you do?” 

“I do.” His word choice was not lost on you, and judging by the soft, sweetly sad smile he gave you, it wasn’t lost on him either. “____, I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a long time… maybe even since the beginning. But… everything was so complicated, and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to. Maybe it’s selfish, but I wanted you to love me… just for me. Not because I’m a God or because it was your duty or you were paying a debt… I wanted you to see me. And know me. And you did… you saw me every day, ____, and… and I can’t thank you enough.

“Which is why… it’s why I have to let you make this decision, because if it were up to me, I would have been yours years ago. But you… you never said anything, so… so I had to assume…” 

“That I waited this long?” 

Daichi rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck; “Maybe it was wishful thinking on my part. Or denial. I’d hoped… that you were waiting so long because… because you wanted me. But I was never sure. So--” 

You cut him off with a gentle touch to his lips that made him start so violently, the raven perched on his arm flew away with an indignant squawk. The only thing you could register was the soft give of Daichi’s lips against your fingertips… they were surprisingly plush, soft and smooth… Eye contact was intense. It burned… 

“Daichi.” You took a deep breath, in and out slowly… “I feel the same.” 

It was a small declaration, more confident than you felt. But it seemed to snap whatever thread that held Daichi together. His warm eyes filled with happy tears, and his breath shuddered with the force of his joy. 

“Really?” He reached out a tentative hand, placing those gentle, warm fingers against your cheek.

“Really.” You leaned into his touch, letting your own hand migrate to cradle his jaw. “I really, really do…” 

Somewhere along the way, you had come to deeply love this man before you. And, by some miracle, he loved you back. He loved you and it showed. It was obvious in the gentle way he pulled you to him, his gaze and touch so tender it made you feel as delicate as the flowers in your apartment. It was so clear in the way he gently--so gently--angled your jaw so he could press his lips to your forehead. The corner of your eye. Your cheek. Your jaw… and finally… finally, he brought you in for a slow and achingly tender kiss. 

It was nothing like you imagined from him. There was a thread of uncertainty and inexperience. He was gentle and methodical and almost shy… but underneath, there was a sense of rightness. Like this was where you were meant to be. Like Daichi was made to hold you in his arms. You fit so perfectly, and it was so, so warm… 

Never in your life had you felt so loved than in that moment. Affection filled your chest until you felt fit to burst, like your mere mortal vessel wasn’t built to contain the feelings you felt for Daichi. And his strong arms were there to hold you together, keep you from flying apart at the seams. And all the while, he trembled with the force of his own emotions. But he was happy… you were happy. You could hear it in the breathless, giddy cadence of his nervous laughter. You were loved, and in return you would protect Daichi from whatever ordained fate you’d been chosen to save him from. 

Because you loved him so, so much… 

By the end of the week, under the false sun in Persephone’s garden in the underworld, you became the Queen of Crows.

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - TREDECIM

(gif not mine - credit to rightful owner)

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions, mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence, mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

II OF PENTACLES: balance, priorities, adapting to change

The summer days seem to sweep by slowly, much like the sand that blew softly in the desert in the afternoon. It didn’t take long for Donghyuck to read the book Cosimia have him for his birthday either. He took a quick interested in the subject of witchcraft, more than she had thought he would. Every time they moved, he would end up dragging her to the book stores to the town nearby and whenever he ran out of books, he’d borrow Sicheng’s laptop for further research.

To Cosimia it was quite thrilling to see her friend so passionate and interested in something... The curiousity and joy that came to light up his eyes in the form of a sparkle made her smile to herself and feel a bit of joy herself. It gave her a sense of hope as well let her see purity in the most unlikely places she wouldn’t imagine were possible. Lately, she was often too busy looking at the boy with her own sparkle in her eyes because of this.

“I think I’m gonna become a witch...” The boy has said to her from his place on the couch.

“Hmm?” She hummed as she was knocked out of her dream like state at the kitchen counter. “Oh... I think you’d make a good one. I thought you’d need, like, a coven for that though?”

“That’s only if you want to be Wiccan,” He informed her. “I just wanna do like magick stuff, you know?”

She nodded, understanding him before she took a sip of the coffee in her mug. As soon as the cup left her lips she let out a little chuckle as she put down the white mug on the counter.

“You’ve mature quick a bit, Haechan.” She smiled. “Mentally, that is.”

“Are you kidding?” He scoffed. “I’ve always been mentally mature!”

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that...” She rolled her eyes. “I meant with being more open minded about what the world has to offer and such. Also, I know you were the one who helped the seniors with their prank this year. Condom and togas? Really?”

“We were the Trojans! You have to admit it was pretty genius of me.”

“Genius isn’t the exact word I’d use to describe but yeah, sure.”

With every passing day, the closer it got to summer solstice. The solstices were always some of the most vital holidays of the years to witches. Though, the summer solstice seemed to be the most special... It was the one day of year you could brew love potions and they’d work as well as all witches having the ability to see the future.

He knew he had Cosimia. She saw the future every day, it was normal for her. There was always a part of him that wondered what it was like to see things the way she did. He wanted to see things the way she did sometimes...

Before he knew it, it was three in the afternoon on a very hot day. He sat on the floor of the trailer that felt like an oven as the carpet itches his legs from underneath him. Long pieces of dried grass remained scattered around him as he crafted away the best he could. It was oddly quiet. At least until Cosimia interrupted and found him there. She was quite shocked at the mess.

“You know, when you said you were going on a break I didn’t think it meant you were ditching.” She huffed as she looked intimidating in her all black outfit. “What are you even doing?”

“Making a besom.” He muttered, trying to tie pieces of the dry grass to the large, smooth, wooden stick. It wasn’t working for him and he got so fed up with it, he just threw it across the room which startled the girl. “This is so stupid!”

“No, it’s not stupid.” She sighed as she came to sit down to make him feel better.

“Then what is it? I’m just wasting my time and yours and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was wasting other people’s time too. Everyone thinks I’m weird or a devil worshipper! And then everyone is like ‘no, you’re a warlock or wizard, not a witch. you’re not a girl’ but they don’t understand it’s gender neutral and the others ones are insulting for some reason!”

“Okay, first off, I know you’re mad but you need to calm down. Not a lot of people know that, Haechan. Witchcraft isn’t really taught properly to the general public. Not to mention, people are scared of those types of things. You know that well, don’t you? I get it’s frustrating but you also know if no one else will understand and support you, I will. Isn’t that how we ended up here in the first place?”

He nodded, the familiar feeling of his breath being taken away from him as she held her cheeks since the passionate little speech for it. To be honest, it filled him with a different type of delight and serenity as it calmed him down after his small blow up. It was just so loving and safe...

“And hey,” She spoke softly and gently to him. “We can go into the forest tomorrow and get better materials got your besom. You can practice there too. I know you’re preparing for summer solstice... but right now, we need to go back to the tent. Hendery can only stall for so long.”

He laughed at the last comment and nodded after before following her back. There was a huge line waiting for them at the tent. In front of all those people stood Hendery and Kun. The young, black haired boy blabbered on about how Cosimia had gotten his broken arm prediction correctly and how amazing it was. It caused them to snicker a bit before the girl tapped him on the shoulder as signal that they could go back to being security. They went back to their job as well.

He stared at the girl with a sort of goofy smile as she help one of the people before he helped another. It took awhile to get rid of everyone and once they all left, he decided to do a reading for himself as he made a habit to pull a card out of the deck every day. When he was shuffling, a card came out of the deck which he gladly grabbed before flipping it over. It revealed the tower, in reverse. The image made the color from his face drain. He swipe it of the table as quick as he could, before she could see it.

There was a painful event coming, one he or even they avoided... He had no idea what it meant but it made him feel uneasy. The fear of suffering, something avoided as it could be seen. There was no clue as to what it was which made it that the more ominous to him. If it was able to be seen, wouldn’t he know? He decided not to worry about it right then as the girl was already saying it was time to go.

Much like his friend promised, they went into the forest the next day. The birds chirped and bugs hummed around them as they trudged through the thin, tall, green grass and trees. The twigs and leaves crunched under their feet as well. Cosimia pulled a old, red wagon that creeked behind her that bumped against the uneven ground every once and awhile. She would pick up things everyone in awhile and put them in the wagon.

They decided before making the besom, Donghyuck would practice a bit first. He was going to cast a circle, it would be his first time ever doing so and maybe he’d cast a few spells. They just needed a place...

There was a point they reached in the forest. There was a circle of trees that surrounded a clearing. When they went in they couldn’t see the sky clearly as ivy had grown over the top only allowing small holes to let sunlight in. It did seem almost quite magical to them as they decided to stop there because it was too perfect for them.

It was obvious Donghyuck had so much to practice. Casting a circle was something he needed to learn first and foremost as well considering it was one of the most important things to know. He cleaned the area with the clear quartz like the books he read told them too. Who would have known Cosimia’s crystal obsession would’ve really come to his use?

He stood alone in the middle the clearing as the girl sat to side on rock close to a tree. She smiled at him before he turned to face the East. He tried his best to recall the words he read multiple times to be used in this situation. He closed his eyes while he started to cast the circle with his right hand. He envisioned it in his mind as he turned clockwise. Though, half way through he dropped his hand and opened his eyes. He looked at the girl with a pout on his face, he looked like he was about to cry.

“I feel so stupid...” He mumbled while lookin down at his feet and twiddling his fingers.

“Haechan, it’s not stupid.” She sighed. “You know witchcraft is about believing before anything else. I know you may feel funny at first doing it and that’s normal. But you’re never gonna get anything out of it thinking it’s stupid.”

He began to pout again, knowing she was right and only trying to help him, “Can you join me, please?”

“...I’m not a witch, though. And I don’t want to be one either...”

“You don’t have to be! You don’t have to do anything other than encourage me. I just don’t want to be alone while doing this.”

She rolled her eyes, mostly to herself because of how quickly she gave into him. Nonetheless, she still came over to stand beside him. It left a smile on his face which soften her up as well as make her feel better about. It was only a few moments later that she noticed how long they had been staring at each other in that beautiful place.

“Hurry up!” She hissed, interrupting them moment. “We still need to make your besom and Johnny’s gonna pissed once he figures out we dipped today!”

He kind of felt hurt by her attitude but understood it at the same time. So he picked up where he left off. He closed his eyes and raised his right hand once again to continue where he left the circle unfinished. He unknowingly grabbed Cosimia’s hand with his left while he finished casting the circle around them. He was done before he knew it. He dropped his arm to his side. His eyes fluttered open as his friend pulled on his hand, gently. He looked at where the spot where it connected in the end.

“I think you casted a circle.” She whispered in his ear, a tad of sweetness in her voice. “You did it.”

“H-huh?” He stuttered at the exact same moment he realized he was still holding her hand.

She let go, though. It made his heart clench in the way he missed the warmth of human touch. He expected it oddly enough. She was still getting comfortable around him and he was lucky she even put up with considering he initiated it. 

“I can’t even get out now to go get the stuff for besom.” She chuckled in the thick air as she noticed the red wagon was left by the rock. “I guess you’ll have to dismantle it.”

“You know there’s a way to go and out, right?” He asked.

“No, but it doesn’t matter. Why don’t we just relax here for a bit, anyway?”

She sat on the ground within the circle before she leaned back at the bright green grass with her arms behind her head. Her dark purple hair spread out around her, some parts turn red in the sun let in. The white light leaked in through the ivy to make her eyes sparkle and her hair look shiny and smooth.

“What about Johnny?” He teased as he sat down next to her.

She shrugged, “He’s gonna be mad regardless of when we come back. Why don’t we get a nice day out of it before we get yelled at? We won’t be back here, at least not for some time.”

For awhile, they just laid their in the oddly warm grass. It wasn’t until later they actually did anything productive. She helped him get his besom ready, the air becoming slightly cooler as the afternoon seemed to pass by. They sat in the exact same spots in the middle of the clearing, across from each other.

“So, are you excited for summer solstice?” She asked in the mist of silence.

“Of course!” He answered. “It’s the one time of year where I can see the future for myself.”

“And according to the Romanian witches, it’s also the one time of year where you can make love potions that actually work.”

“Yes, I do actually. I’m surprised you know that actually.”

“I was just wondering... if you are gonna make any? You know for me?”

He froze in his spot as she asked the question to him so nonchalantly. His eyes even bugged out of his head as his the rest of his face remained relatively blank. At the same time, maybe she wasn’t stuble poking at him having a crush on her... Maybe she wanted one herself but for who? Lucas?

“What would you even need one for?” Donghyuck grumbled as he went back to work.

“I guess I didn’t phrase it right.” She rolled her eyes with a sigh. “I meant, are you gonna make any for me for yourself?”

It was no longer easy to avoid the question by playing dumb unfortunately. It was too apparent that he had a thing for her anyway. He was a fool for thinking she wouldn’t know or figure it out. To even deny it would do no good.

“No,” He stated. “If you’re going to fall in love with me, I want it to be natural, not artificial. I wouldn’t like knowing you don’t love me for the sake of loving me…”

“That’s very beautiful of you, Haechan.” She smiled.

He hummed with a nod as a response. The both of them went back to working on besom. He avoided looking up for the rest of the time they were there like that. It was silent between them too but the bugs flying around and such filled it. It was warm, he sun light that seeped through the ivy was comforting and seemed like it could coaxed anyone into a nap right then.

It was truly the most calm and peaceful it had been for quite some time for them. The days leading up to the solstice were also that way. Donghyuck remained excited throughout their work day which put a smile on the girl’s face. The night was the most important time for it all though.

A fire burned bright a away from the grounds. Their newly founded friends even came to support him, mostly because Cosimia said how much the whole thing meant to him. All they really had to do was hold a candle and a specific type of plant they picked themselves the other day. To be honest, seeing everyone there for him made him feel so happy especially after the last time of where he was just ignored.

Nothing really happened until the clock stroke midnight though. It was time, by what the books said, ‘to open the sky’ which was most exhilarating part of it all. It would give him the power to see into future. He got his besom and lit the end of little twigs on fire before he raised it toward the sky. He felt awkward about it, just like with casting a circle the other day and also a bit heavy but continued regardless.

He started to mumble a spell as his besom was pointed toward the moon. The others that stood around him could barely make out a thing he was saying, the crackles from the fire not helping. He hadn’t notice but the end pointed toward the sky was becoming brighter and hotter. The other sure did take notice though, most of them scared as they only stood there.

They waited, there had to be more right? He still hadn’t seen anything yet and let alone feel anything besides the heaviness in his chest thinking maybe it wasn’t real... Though, in a sudden move, he fell back and dropped the rest of his besom in the fire before he saw himself be engulf in darkness. The darkness suddenly turned white. He saw another verison of himself, burning away much like a picture would only to reveal Cosimia. She was covered in ivy. Her father, he’d only seen once appeared out of no where with a crazed look in his eye. All he saw was the color of gold before he back to where he was before.

He found himself on the ground, rocks digging into his back and a painful headache. Everyone surrounded him with a concerned look on his face. Mostly he only saw the girl as she was the one cradling his head.

“A-are you okay?” Xiaojun asked.

“Oh, how many fingers am I holding up?” Jeno butted in while putting up two fingers.

“Dude,” Jaehyun started. “He could literally have a concussion, not now.”

“Y’all ain’t gonna talk about how he wasn’t just vibrating?” Jaemin brought up. “That literally can’t be a concussion!”

“Vibrating?” He questioned as he wondered what exactly happened when he went into state.

“Will you all just shut up?” The girl snapped.

“Is it a bad time to say Kun called the paramedics?” Lucas informed quietly from behind the boys. “They’re gonna be here soon but does Haechan even need to go to the hospital since he looks okay now.”

“Nothing wrong with a check up after what happened.” She sighed as she played with his silver hair a little bit which took his mind off the pain.

“Okay... but did you see anything though?” Hendery laughed nervously.

“Hendery!” Sicheng hissed whole hitting him in the arm

“What? I’d like to know!”

“No, not really.... Just some colors but that was about it...”

“Well, that’s boring.”

“Hendery!”

[anagentinwriting]

Subscribe - Part 10

Summary: (Modern AU) Peter was your college sweetheart until a certain event led to your break up. Seven years later another event brings you two back together, but this time a little girl is in the picture. Will listening to your podcasts be the reason you two get back together or be another reason to keep you apart?

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Word Count: 4276

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Slight nakedness 

Subscribe Masterlist / Main Masterlist

AN: Podcast in Italics & Flashbacks are in italics and indented. 

You and Wanda arrived in New York City mid-morning on one of Stark Industries private jets. You couldn’t believe the amount of legroom and the amazing breakfast they offered. With an eventful morning laid out, you wondered how Peter and Mer’s morning was going after you dropped her off last night.

“If you have any questions, or problems don’t hesitate to call me,” you told Peter as you stood in the doorway.

“I know,” he smirked. “But I don’t think it will be too difficult.”

“You say that now,” you chuckled, making him crack his boyish smile. “See you on Sunday when I get back.”

“See you then. Be safe.” Peter came in for a hug, surprising you. You felt awkward and tense, but as soon as he tightened his hold, you melted into him. You closed your eyes, remembering how his hugs always made you feel better. And on the plus side, he smelt amazing.

You pulled away, glancing up at him. He was gazing down at you with his green eyes making your stomach flutter and heartbeat a little faster. You felt a blush rush to your cheeks as you glanced at a giggling Mer beside you. You waved goodbye them before you walked back to your car.

You and Wanda met up with the real estate agent at the airport and traveled to the four properties you were looking at. The agent answered all your questions, which helped you narrow the list down to two properties. One was located right outside the city while the other was a little further upstate.

The site right outside the city was a good space and area to start a business. The only downside was that there was no room to grow. If this business wasn’t already successful, you would say yes, but this company has been thriving for the past three years. This space would work for a couple of years, but if Potts of Honey continued to make a profit, we would need more room to expand. 

The property further upstate was near their sister company, Stark Industries. This choice made the most sense with it having more space than the one in the city, so there was always room to expand. Go big and then downsize if need be. You would always think the other way around, but with Potts of Honey already being a success, you thought it was worth the risk to go big.  You were positive Pepper would agree with you, but if not, you still took notes to share with her from the other site as well. 

When you and Wanda got back to the hotel, you were ready to get in touch with Pepper. It was going to be a long conversation, so you decided to check in on Peter and Mer first. It was early evening in Malibu but figured it was best to say goodnight early rather than later. You clicked on Peter’s contact and then clicked FaceTime.

"Mommy," she greeted with her face close to the camera before moving it away. “Hi, how is New York?”

"Hey, Mer. Haven’t seen much of it yet, but I hope I can see more of it tomorrow. I wanted to check in to see how things are before I get back to work. What are you doing?”

"Watching this documentary about Mars." She flipped the camera view so you could see. "It's a good one so far." She flipped the camera back, and you could see her eyes glued to the screen. 

“Sounds fun! Did you finish your homework?”

“Yes, Bucky and dad helped me with it.” She glanced at the phone before her eyes shifted back to the tv screen, making you smile. 

“Where's your dad at?"

"I'll get him. He’s in the shower." She jumped off the sofa as you heard commercials start playing on the television. 

"Mer,” you tried to get her attention, but she couldn't hear you. “Meredith,” you shouted a little louder, but you saw her turn the camera view to her walking down the hallway to a door. “Meredith, I don't need to see him right this second, I can wait till he is out of the shower."

Mer put her hand on the doorknob and turned it, opening the bathroom door. You see Peter stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, and he stared at Mer with huge eyes.

“MEREDITH! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE?”

“Mom FaceTimed us and wants to talk to you,” she replied in a small voice, holding out the phone to him, and he takes it.

"YOU CAN’T JUST BARGE--" he takes a deep breath to calm his voice "--you can't barge in here while I'm in the shower, okay? Please knock every time a door's closed in this house, and wait till I tell you to come in. I don't want to traumatize you…...do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Peter asked in a stern voice.

“Yes, I will knock every time a door is closed." She dipped her head. 

Peter continued to impress you. You didn't think he had it in him to discipline her like he did. You thought he would let her walk all over him, and get away with everything, but you were wrong. 

“Okay, good.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled in a small voice. You could see her in the frame staring at the floor as she rocked back and forth on her heels. She nodded to herself before she walked out of the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Peter reversed the camera and looked at you. His hair was damp laying in all directions like he toweled dried it. “Did I fuck up? Is she going to hate me now because I yelled at her?”

“No, Peter. It’s called being a parent and setting boundaries. You did good,” You praised him as he sighed, closing his eyes. “I thought you would let her walk all over you, but I’m impressed by what you did.”

“Really?” His eyes shot opened to look at you. “I sorta feel bad about it,” he admitted as his eyes drifted closed, letting out a big sigh.

“Welcome to parenthood. If you’re worried about it, talk with her and make sure she understands.”

“Okay. Yeah. I can do that.” He nodded. 

"How are things otherwise?"

"So far so good," he said, opening the bathroom door and taking a quick peek in the direction of the living room.  He bit his lip as he walked the other way towards his bedroom and shut the door behind him. 

“Do you have any questions? Otherwise, I was going to say goodnight to Mer before I get back to work.”

“I do have one since you asked.” He laid down on his bed, holding his arm straight out, looking at you in his phone while rubbing his eyes with his other hand. “Why is Mer’s math so hard? Me and Buck were struggling, but we think we figured it out.”

You chuckled at him, making him crack a smile. “She's in a higher grade level for math because last summer she worked on it every day wanting to get better. She says if she wants to work for NASA, she needs to start now. I forgot to tell you that,” you mentioned, watching him pinch the bridge of his nose and shake his head. 

“Mer sure is ambitious. At her age, I was doing everything but homework,” he smirked.

“Tell me about it. When I was her age, I was trying to decide what doll to play with.” You both laughed. 

Peter sat up, running his hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help but notice the size of his bicep. He must’ve started working out a lot these past few years because he definitely bulked up. It’s not that he didn’t look good before because you always found him attractive even before you started dating him. His looks always got him the girls, but it was his charming yet dirty-minded personality that could always make you laugh. 

He turned out to be one of your best friends after he slipped you that note during class. You were never afraid to knock him off his pedestal when he got overconfident, but it did bother you how he could go from one girl to the next without batting an eye. It shouldn’t have got to you like it did, and your boyfriend, Yon, at the time, had no problem pointing out his jealousy towards Peter. He hated Peter. He hated how much you talked about him and how you always brought him up in conversation. He soon grew tired of it and broke up with you. This made you realize how much you really did care about Peter, but you weren't sure if it was worth all the risk. A couple weeks after your breakup, Peter took you on your first not a date date, and you took a chance on him only to end up getting hurt. 

There was a soft knock on the door and Peter head shot in that direction. “Come in.” 

"Daddy, can I say goodnight to Mommy before she goes back to work?"

”Yes and thanks for knocking, Twig." He looked at the camera. "YN, I'll talk to you later. Here's your favorite daughter.”

“Bye, Peter.”

Peter handed his phone over to her, and Mer made her way out of his room. You could see Peter behind her on the camera, and your eyes couldn't help but drift down his muscular frame. You gulped, shaking your head as you tried to refocus once you heard your daughter talking. 

“Mommy, do you think Daddy is mad at me for not knocking before.”

“No. He was thinking as a concerned parent. He’s new to this, and he's scared you hated him too for yelling at you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he is still trying to figure out the ‘dad stuff.’ He wants you to knock because that’s the polite thing to do. Understand, Mer?” 

“Yes, I understand. I will make sure to tell him he is doing a good job before bedtime.”

“He will like that,” you smiled at her. “I am going to have to let you go through and get back to work.” 

“Okay, goodnight, Mommy. Love you.”

“Love you, too. Goodnight.”

You hung up the phone and didn’t know why you felt so worried about this whole situation. Peter had everything under control, and Mer was on her best behavior. 

As if on Q, Pepper was calling you for a video chat ready to discuss the properties. It ended up being a quick discussion because she agreed with you on your choice. She liked the idea of having the Stark Industries and Potts of Honey close to each other. It made sense to her, and the idea of expanding without having to move made this decision easy. Both of you discussed what the next play would be, and Pepper agreed to put an offer in tomorrow to see if they took it. If all went as planned, Pepper would make sure a contract was written up before your departure so you could sign the paperwork.

_________

“Hey listeners, I am happy to inform you that I’m back along with my amazing quiet co-host YN, who is sitting a few feet away from me, shaking her head. Where’s the whiteboard now?” Wanda let out an evil laugh. “For today's episode, we are on location a few hours outside New York City in the dining room of one of our dedicated listeners since the beginning, Mrs. Laura Barton. She is a mother of three talking about her daily routine, her husband's traveling job, and how she stays sane when her husband is away on business. We will also be talking sippy cups. Exciting stuff! Who knows maybe we will dabble into YN’s life again to tell us another life lesson or something about our favorite Star-lord. And that comment earned an eye roll from her. Q intro music.”

“Hi Laura, welcome to our podcast, and thanks for letting us take over your dining room for the day,” Wanda greeted her with a warm smile. 

It's always fun to watch Wanda in action. She’s such a cheery person and can make anyone feel comfortable in a matter of seconds after meeting them. She is super quick-witted and has so much energy for a mother of twins, but the coffee and tea must help. You hired Wanda for the same reason Pepper hired you; she wouldn’t let this job run her life, and her family would always come first.

“It’s no problem. Thanks for having me,” Laura said into her mic as you readjusted her volume. “I hope we can get this done before Nathaniel, my 1-year-old, wakes up from his nap. Wishful thinking.” She smiled, crossing her fingers. 

“Wishful thinking indeed, so let’s dive right into it then. How long have you been living on this cute farm?”

“Me and my husband, Clint, bought this farmyard about 10 years ago and…”

“I appreciate you letting us come here on such short notice, but this was such a fun talk. Your advice on sippy cups spoke the truth all parents wonder. Every child is different and every child likes different things. You don’t know what sippy cup your child will like until they try them. Easy as that folks!”

“Yup. At least that’s how I did it,” Laura chuckled. “If you think about it sippy cups are like coffee mugs because you will always choose your favorite if it’s clean while the others sit in the cabinet. At least that’s what my husband does all the time.”

“Perfect explanation.”

“I think we should move on and hear what YN’s going to share this week.”

“Wow. Smooth transition, Wanda. Letting the guest introduce me and get me to talk. Now, I would look like a bitch if I didn’t join in now.”

“The guests are never wrong. For all of you wondering YN has scooted over a chair to join us and is ready to tell all,” Wanda whispered into her mic, making you roll your eyes. “In case some of you are not active viewers of our Instagram. YN was in an accident recently that caused her to slip into a coma for eight days. I can tell you today that she is healthy and feeling better and I'm glad to have her back. How are you feeling since you've been back home and returned to work?”

“I’m not the type of person that likes sitting around and not doing anything. If I sit too long and do nothing, it can drive me crazy. Don’t get me wrong I like relaxing and sleeping in, but when your doctor tells you to do it, you don’t want to.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, do you remember anything about the accident?” Laura questioned.

“I don’t. The doctors told me my memories could come back, but there's a good chance they won’t because my brain blocked it out. It was traumatic, so I don’t know if I would want to remember it.”

“I know I wouldn’t want to relive that moment either,” Laura commented.

“Did anything interesting happen after the accident?” Wanda asked, making you narrow your eyes at her.  

“Yes. Actually, there was. My sister, Gamora, ended up helping a lot while I was asleep and…”

“Who else helped,” Wanda interrupted as you stared hard at her. 

“Star-lord,” you confessed, rolling your eyes.

“WHATTT!” Laura blurted out with her wide eyes staring at you. “You told him.”

“Sort of. It's complicated. All I will say is he knows and wants to be more involved.”

“Are you scared of falling for him again? Your previous stories make him out to be a great guy,” Laura chimed in.

You ignore her first question. “He is a great guy, but it didn't end in all rainbows and unicorns like I have touched upon in a previous episode.” 

“What did he think about having a child he knew nothing about?" Wanda inquired.

“Shocked but like a good shock. If it wasn't, I don't know why he would want to still be a part of her life now after finding out."

“I could see that. Meredith’s an awesome little lady. How is she with him?”

“Meredith’s excited to have him in her life. When I was in the hospital, I guess they hung out a lot since my sister couldn't watch her the whole time. Then, when I watched them interact, it was adorable. It's like they have always known each other. And she’s so forgiving, and he’s so honest with her.”

“Awwwwww. I love men who love their babies. When I see Vis interact with the twins, it warms my heart,” Wanda admitted with her hand over her heart.

“I have to say I agree with you both,” Laura grinned, nodding her head. “When Clint is home, he spends as much time as he can with the kids. He has been teaching Lila archery, Cooper about carpentry, and reads this huge stack of books to Nathaniel. He is an all-around good dad, but after bedtime, he is all mine.” She winked, forcing you and Wanda to laugh. 

“Isn’t that the best time though,” Wanda teased. “Anyways, that’s the end of this week’s episode. Thanks to Laura for joining us this week and to the listeners for listening to our podcast. If you like this podcast, please rate, comment, and subscribe to us wherever you get your podcasts. As always stay classy listeners. Wanda, signing off.”

You pushed stop on the microphones and the recorder. You glanced over your shoulder to see both women smiling at you.

“Are you and Star-Lord going to be shacking up and getting friendly again?” Laura joked, taking off her headset. 

“No, I don't think so. I promised myself I wouldn't date until Mer gave the okay.”

“Oh please, you and her daddy back together again. She’ll make sure it happens,” Wanda added.

“She's seven, not a love expert.”

“She’s seven and three quarters,” Wanda corrected. “I'll teach her some tricks.”

“No, you will not."

“Booo, fine!” Wanda sighed, forcing a soft chuckle out of Laura. 

“You’re going to see him again, Wanda, so I wouldn’t worry about showing her any tricks.” Her eyes perked up at you wanting to know more. “He’s going to be picking her up from school every day instead of her going to daycare. He’ll probably swing by and drop her off on evenings when I work late.”

“Wait…..Wanda has actually seen him. Did you at least snap a picture of him, Wanda?”

“Next time and I will send it to you.”

“Oh my god, are you two done?” You scoffed, making them laugh.  

Nathaniel started to cry over the baby monitors, and Laura stood up. “Duty calls. I’ll be back shortly.” She smiled, leaving the room and heading upstairs.  

“You know who I would love to have on the show,” Wanda smirked.

“Who?”

“Star-lord.”

“Hell no. That's never gonna happen.”

“Time will tell.”

After saying goodbye to Laura, you both headed back to your shared hotel suite. Wanda passed out on her bed as soon as she hit the pillow, but you decided to take a long relaxing bath in the huge tub. You turned on the faucet and filled it up, dropping in one of the hotel bath bombs. It fizzled and rotated, turning the water pink. As soon as the bath bomb disappeared, your phone started ringing. You glanced at the screen, surprised to see Peter calling, but also worried something might be wrong. It was only an hour before Mer would get let out of school.

“Hey Peter, is everything okay?”

“Yeah yeah, everything’s fine,” Peter confirmed. “I wanted to call and see how your work trip is going?”

“It’s good, so far. Busy. Lots of driving. Like today, we did a podcast episode a few hours out of the city, so now we're hanging out at the hotel. Did you need some adult communication?”

“Yes, I mean Bucky is technically an adult, but he acts like a child when Meredith's around.” You laughed, making him left out a soft chuckle. “She mentioned something about you finding a property for a new facility Potts of Honey is opening up in New York?”

“Yeah, well we checked out a few properties the other day. It wasn’t too exciting, but Pepper feels like it is time to expand and I agree with her. Tomorrow, I have to sign the contract for the property because they reached a deal today, so things are moving along fast.”

“That's good though. Maybe you'll get a promotion after this."

“I don’t know about that.”

“Didn't you help her build Potts of Honey from nothing?”

“Yeah, sort of.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “Did I ever tell you the story of how I got the job?

“No, but I’d love to hear it,” he yawned.

It was the day of your interview for a new position at Potts of Honey, the sister company of Stark Industries. With Meredith not feeling well you decided not to take her to daycare instead had Gamora watch her until you finished the interview. It was a scheduled interview, so you knew you would get in and out fast.  

Walking into the waiting room, you expected to see a few people, but instead, there was at least ten still waiting to get interviewed. They wore freshly pressed suits and had smooth resumes in their hands, unlike your resume that had two creases from folding it and putting it in your purse. Also, you were positive your suit jacket had spit up on it at one point because there was a light stain on your left shoulder. How did you miss that?

You went up to the lady working at the desk telling her your name. She smiled and told you to take a seat and wait for your name to get called. You sat down and watched person after person go in for their interview. Peeking at your watch, you noticed it was almost two hours after your scheduled time, and you were beginning to worry about Meredith and Gamora. Your phone started vibrating in your pocket, and you glanced at the screen, answering it.

“Gamora is everything okay?”

“I know you're still waiting to get interviewed, but her temperature went up, and she won’t stop crying. I don’t know what to do?”

“Um, okay, I’ll...”

“Ms. YN LN,” a woman called in front of her office, recognizing her as Virginia Potts-Stark.

“Gamora, I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” You walked up to Virginia and shook her hand. “Hi, I’m YN LN.”

“Lovely to meet you. I’m Virginia Stark, but you can call me Pepper. If you’ll follow…”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

“Excuse me?” She asked, furrowing her brows together.

“My daughter is sick at home, and right now, she’s more important to me than this job interview. Again, I’m sorry to have wasted your time. 

“Oh. Of course, go home and take care of your daughter,” she smirked, giving you a slight nod.

“And I walked away from the most important job interview in your life,” you admitted to Peter.

“How did you get the job if you never interviewed?”

“Funny thing…”

You were in your room at your sister’s house, rubbing your daughters back after taking her to the doctor. The doctor gave you some medicine to help treat the infection and her earache. After a long day, she was fast asleep. This day was a mess, and your interview was a disaster. It wasn’t even an interview, but it was one fucked up mess. You stared up at the ceiling, when you heard your phone vibrating on your night stand. You didn’t recognize the number but decided to answer anyway.

“Hello.”

“Is this Ms. YN LN?”

“Yes, may I ask who this is?”

“Pepper. I’m calling you tonight to inform you that you got the job.”

“Excuse me, but you must have the wrong number. I didn’t even interview. “

“You didn’t have to. When you told me your daughter was sick and needed to leave right away, you didn’t even hesitate for a second. You mentioned your daughter was more important than your interview, and I realized something. Most people who work in big corporations put their jobs first and their families second. Knowing you care about your family, you’ll never let this job take over your life, and you will always put family first. I want this for my company. I want a family-first mentality, and you’re the person I need to help me do it.” 

“Are you sure? You don't even know anything about me."

“Trust me, I did my research. You’re a single mother trying to make ends meet. You have some business experience and a communication and media studies degree. You're more than qualified, and I know you’d be perfect for the job if you want it.”

“I’ll take it.”

“You're Incredible--” Peter cleared his throat “--I mean that's incredible,” he mumbled.

“Thanks, Peter, but you sound exhausted. You might need a nap before you pick Mer up from school. Trust me she can wear out anyone who watches her.”

“I'm discovering that.” He let out a breathy chuckle. “And tomorrow is going to be super crazy.”

“Weekends are the craziest,” you smiled. “Thanks for the call. Think I needed some adult time, too."

He chuckled. “Glad I could help. I’ll see you, YN.”

“See you Sunday, Pete.”

______

AN: We got to learn a little bit more about the reader’s life in college with Peter and found out she was dating someone before him. Shocking! And it seems like their relationship is slowly improving, but will it last? And it seems like Peter is finally figuring out his ‘dad stuff,’ even if there were a few mishaps along the way! What do you all think about Wanda? I wanted to make her more charismatic and sarcastic, which she isn't in the movies, but I feel if she was happy and with Vis and her friends she would be. Thanks for reading! 

[thepencilnerd]

- 𝐈 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝 -

➳ Pairing: Jinyoung x Reader

➳ Summary: AU! After a one-night stand with Park Jinyoung, the infamous campus fuckboy, life goes on. You were only looking for a good time, so you didn’t need to worry about catching any feelings, but Jinyoung had other plans

➳ Genre: Fuckboy x Fuckgirl AU, light angst, implied smut

➳ Word Count: 4.1k

➳ Warnings: Mature situations, swearing, alcohol

♪ Single- The Neighbourhood

a/n: jinyoung feels hit me hard and im trash so i rushed this, forgive me

The night was still young as you entered the club with your group of friends. The clock read 11:53 p.m. as you all swarmed the bar like flies, immediately trying to kiss-up to the bartender for free drinks. Having mastered the art of flattery to the last detail, it was as easy as taking candy from a baby. Downing a shot of vodka and chasing it with strawberry soda, you exhaled as you felt the soothing burn of alcohol coat your throat. 

It was a few days since the semester had ended and you had already planned out your summer break down to the hour. The majority of it consisted of hibernating in your room for days on end until the time came to visit your parents back home, but before that, you had a week to waste drinking, partying, staying out all night, and maybe chatting up a few guys here and there—with no intentions of actually taking them home, of course. Being a tease was so much more fun than giving people what they wanted. 

“So what happened with you and Jinyoung?” one of your friends shouted through the loud music that blared through the speakers. 

“Oh yeah,” another squealed. “Was he as good as everyone says he is?” 

You scoffed. “As if. He was so distracted by these—” you gestured to your chest. “He couldn’t even get his own pants off.” 

“Bullshit!” they all whined. “Be honest—was he good?” 

Taking another sip from your glass and swishing the liquor in your mouth, you shrugged. “I don’t kiss and tell.” As you winked, your friends all groaned in frustration at your routine habit of never talking about your hookups. It wasn’t your place to say something a bit too honest (as per your other habit of being brutally truthful) and then have your loudmouth buddies spread a rumor like a wildfire. You were never fond of rumors or sugarcoating things, so you decided that it would be best to keep your personal life personal, especially from your gossip-mongering friends.  

“Enough talk about boys,” you silenced, standing up and smoothing out the edges of your thigh-length dress. “Feel free to actually have fun instead of blabbing away like high-schoolers.”

Making your way to the center of the floor, the rest of them followed your tail, waving goodbye to the bartender and signaling him to leave his number under their drinks. When the song changed to one that you all knew, the four of you couldn’t help but sing along and sway your hips to the upbeat tempo. 

About five or six songs in and seven or eight boys getting trying to cop a feel before getting ‘accidentally’ getting kneed in the crotch, you felt sweat begin to bead at your hairline, indicating that it was time for you to take a trip to the bathroom and dry off. Holding your hand up to your drunk energetic friends, they ushered you off and continued flopping around like robotic fish. Stepping between the crowds of people and making sure that you didn’t trip over your own heels, you finally reached the bathroom. Considering the location of the place and time of day, you were surprised at its immaculately spotless state. 

Patting your forehead dry with a few paper towels and gargling with some water, you pat the edges of your lips with the back of your hand, thankful that you opted for lip stain rather than lipstick tonight. Making sure not to smudge your light eye makeup, you double-checked to make sure that the rest of your makeup was intact. Waterproof mascara could only endure so much before it started to crumble. 

Examining your face, you pulled out your small makeup pouch and applied another layer of the deep red stain, patting it in with your ring finger and being cautious not to draw outside of your lip line. After puckering your lips and marveling at the finished product, your mind began to wander as your finger trailed your chin and dipped down to your jaw. 

“Do you like it when I kiss you here?” he asked, whispering to the point of near silence as he pressed a kiss just beneath your jawline. 

“Stop teasing,” you sighed, grasping him by the roots of his hair and tightening your grip gently, causing him to hiss in pleasure. 

“Again,” he pleaded as he moaned. Each time you tugged at his hair, you were rewarded with his plush lips that began trailing down to the top of your breast.

You purposefully gripped his hair tighter this time, using your dominant position to your advantage to guide his head up so that he was now eye to eye with you. Lowering his head so that you could whisper his ear, you were centimeters from each other as you were able to see the goosebumps that formed across his skin when you spoke. 

“Stop. Fucking. Teasing,” you snarled while licking your lips. 

“Y/N?” your friend called from the door. Snapping you out of your daze, you hurriedly gathered your stuff and answered. 

“Yeah? What’s up?” 

“You were taking forever,” she mumbled. “Uh—it’s him...”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion at her uncomfortable state, wondering if she had been confronted by someone who she wasn’t interested in. “Is someone bothering you?” 

She quickly held her hands up in defense and shook her head rapidly. “No, no, it’s just—Jinyoung. Jinyoung’s here and he wants to see you.” When she finally spit the words out, you let out a noise of disdain. 

For the past three weeks since your hookup with the campus fuckboy, Jinyoung hadn’t stopped texting you and asking to hang out. Hourly text messages that turned into weekly rejected phonecalls had blurred into him being so desperate to the point of sending his own friends to go beg you to meet up with him. What the hell did he want this time?

“He’ll find someone else to bother soon enough, just ignore him,” you assured, brushing it off as just another one of his desperate attempts to hook up with you. 

“But he said he really wants to see you. Like—he has to see you,” she repeated, looking down at the floor in guilt. 

“Is he going to die if I don’t see him?” you irked. She was starting to get on your nerves now. “Give me one good reason why I have to go to him at his beck and call?” 

“Because he brought the rest of his friends and we’re leaving with them for the night?” she forced out an awkward chuckle. 

“You’re joking, right?” you gaped. Your friends had just flaked on you to hang spend the night with the school’s preppy princes. No big deal. “You fucking traitors...”

“Come on, Y/N,” she pleaded. “Just do what you always do and tease him until he gets frustrated and runs off. You’re good at that. Please?”

“Fuck off,” you sighed, pressing your finger to your temple and rubbing the pulsating vein. “Just this once, you unbelievable brat.” 

Her face beamed with joy as she gave you a bone-crushing hug before skipping off to join the others. You hunched over the mirror and breathed calmly as you tried to compose yourself. 

So I’m good at teasing, am I? you thought to yourself. I’ll show him a fucking tease if he’s ever seen one. 

Your hands drifted to unbutton his blouse while he began stroking your bare thighs. Teeth clashing against teeth and lips demanding for more contact with pure desire, you peeled back his blouse and traced your fingers over his defined but svelte muscles and made him shudder.

“If I get you off like this with just my fingertips, imagine what my hands could do to you?” you coyed innocently. 

He let out a scoff before guiding his fingers under his chin and silencing you with another kiss, lightly tugging against your lower lip with his teeth and smirking. “I could imagine a few things that pretty mouth of yours would be able to do too...” 

Shaking the past out of your head, you lightly slapped your cheeks a few times and told yourself to pull it together. Stomping out of the restroom, you leaned onto the arched doorway and looked over to the table your friends were previously stationed at, only to be greeted by a single all-too-recognizable figure. With his arms spread out over the sofa, Park Jinyoung sat comfortably alone on the circular cushion which normally would’ve hosted six people. 

Known as the school’s academic and aesthetic extraordinaire, this boy had built a reputation for himself as the brains and the looks of the popular group. He and six of his closest friends walked around campus like business moguls as girls and guys alike dropped like flies at their feet. 

Even though he also had a reputation for being well-liked and favored, fuckboy Jinyoung was all the buzz. Girls who had sworn they wouldn’t fall for his flirty pick-up lines and false compliments were left drowning in their own tears the morning after. However, unlike the previous girls who had hooked up with him, you knew what you were getting into when you went to his party that night. 

“So you’re Y/N?” an attractive man greeted as he came up to you.

Lowering your solo cup and studying his facial features, the corner of your lips turned upright into a smug grin. “Who’s asking?” 

“Jinyoung,” he answered with a tone of arrogance in his voice. “Park Jinyoung.”

Shaking his extended hand, you were taken aback when he brought his lips to the top of your hand and pressed a light kiss to it, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. 

You held back a chuckle. “So are you just going to stand there or are you going to make a move, junior?” At this comment, you could see his pupils dilate even in the dim lighting. Almost as soon as you caught the change in his expression, it quickly disappeared and was replaced by a cocky smirk and a flash of a perfectly white smile. 

“Meet me upstairs in ten minutes,” you murmured in his ear. It was your turn to be in control tonight. 

Turning away, Jinyoung immediately grasped you by your wrist and pulled you into his chest, inclining back slightly so that you were angled against his body and could feel his excitement pressed on your thigh. “Make that two.”

This party might have actually been worth coming to. 

Your mind drifted off as you were captivated by his features. Whether it was his angular yet soft jawline, his acute eyes, or just the way he pulled off a loosely buttoned dress shirt, you bit down on your lip in anticipation. 

The moment his eyes met yours, the music skipped and changed to another favorite of yours. His mouth dropped open slightly as he contemplated how to approach you. Deciding to take the lead once again, you beckoned him to follow you to the dance floor where you would do what you do best; be in control. 

Jinyoung was quick on your tail as you began moving your body with the music. All those years of dance lessons had finally paid off. A pair of familiar hands came from behind you and found their way to your waist; one wrapped around your body and the other trailed up to your throat. Moving your hair out of the way, you felt his warm breath tickle the crook of your neck as he began to blow a trail of warm air down to your collarbone. 

Two could play at this game, you baited. Pressing yourself into him harder along with the music, you felt a grunt come from his chest as he wrapped his arm around you even tighter. When he began placing open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder, you felt heat spread across your cheeks. 

Shifting your position to face him, you looped your arms around his neck and leaned into him so that your mouth was millimeters away from his. Feeling him exhale into your lips, you bit your bottom lip gently before weaving your hands into his hair ever so slightly, giving you the ability to make him do as you pleased. You knew he was the type who had a hair kink the second you laid eyes on him. 

He made his iconic smirking face before gently taking your hands into his and pulling them away from his head. Resting your left hand on his shoulder, he brought your right hand to his lips and stuck out his tongue, running it along the pad of your ring finger that you had used applied your lip stain earlier. 

“You still use that pomegranate flavored lip balm?” he asked, the question coming out more in the form of a statement rather than an actual question. 

“It’s a stain—a lip stain,” you stuttered. 

What the fuck was that? your conscience screamed. Pull it together. 

“So it’s safe to assume that,” he paused, running his thumb over your bottom lip, which was probably bleeding from how much you had gnawed on it earlier. “—this won’t come off no matter how hard I kiss you?” 

“You want to test that out?” you grinned and raised your eyebrow, provoking him to do his worst. 

“Y/N,” he sighed, your name rolling off of his tongue so effortlessly as if it were second nature. “Why have you been avoiding me?” 

“Why have you been trying so hard to see me?” you replied dryly. 

He laughed at your response. “Is it such a crime for me to be so intrigued by someone?”

A chuckle escaped your lips as you continued to move to the mellow rhythm of the bass. “Was I that mind-blowingly amazing in bed that you wanted to come back for more?”

Jinyoung brought his head to my level and pressed a quick kiss to my pulse point before answering. “I needed to come back for more, princess.”

A shiver ran through your spine at the unfamiliar title he had given you at your first encounter. You weren’t really one for pet or nicknames, but for some reason, hearing it come from his lips was like liquid ambrosia; you could get drunk off of it. 

“And how do you know I want more?” you pouted, wanting to push him to his limits and see how far he’d be willing to go before exploding. 

“Look at me in the eyes and tell me you don’t think about that night,” he said firmly. With a gaze that pierced through yours and arms encasing you in a death grip, you felt shy for the first time in years. 

“I don’t-” you started but were interrupted by Jinyoung’s hands cupping your backside that fit like a perfectly snapped puzzle piece. 

“Tell me you don’t think about how well I marked you here,” he reminded. Licking a stripe down your neck before clamping down on it lightly with his teeth, you closed your eyes and savored the sensation. He repeated the process a few more times until you halted him by winding your hands in his hair.

“I don’t,” you answered, faking confidence and knowing damn well that he could see through your facade from a mile away. He knew what game you were playing and the ball was now in his court. 

Jinyoung clutched you securely into his chest, not knowing if it was even remotely possible or not, as the two of you were virtually joined at the waist. You could feel his heart pump rapidly under the material of his thin blouse as his hands then resumed tracing the back of your dress where the zipper was; likewise, the material of your outfit choice was also on the thinner side. The realization dawned upon you when you felt his fingertips fondle with the zipper line and barely skim the edges where the metal met your skin. 

“What about when I unzipped this last time?” he recalled, stare boring into yours with the same hunger as the last time you saw him. “You got frustrated and threatened to leave so I practically ripped it right off of you...” 

Hands guiding your hips to move in unison with his to the beat, you felt his growing urgency show as he was pushed over the edge and cupped your face, pulling you into a scorching kiss. His lips were just as soft—if not softer—than you had remembered, and you felt him kiss harder when you part your lips in a gasp. 

Your hands wandered and knotted your fists into his shirt for leverage to tug him closer to you, the distance between the two of you now nonexistent. Your heart was pounding in your chest so loud, you felt your pulse ring in your ears. All the nerves in your brain began rapid firing to your senses; the taste of his lips against yours, the scent of that mouth-watering cologne he used, the feel of his body giving in and simultaneously fighting for control, and the raw sight of him crumbling beneath your fingertips. 

“You sure you’ll be able to handle me, princess?” he inquired with a vain expression while he started unbuttoning his shirt. 

“I should be asking you that,” you retorted. Pulling down your hair, his mouth watered as he gulped, admiring the volume of your tresses. Wagging your finger back and forth, you tsked. “I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already drooling.” 

Without another word, he pinned you underneath him and devoured you in a greedy kiss.

Pulling away for air, Jinyoung looked up at you and chuckled deeply, breathless from the kiss that had nearly consumed the two of you. “Let’s go back to my place,” he managed to say. 

With a crooked smile, your body commanded him to follow you as you walked back to the bar. Waving to the bartender for another glass of whiskey, Jinyoung quickly followed your tail and found a seat next to you. 

“Why are you so intent on pushing me away?” he asked gravely, wearing a frown as his brows knit together into an expression of genuine confusion and hurt. 

You coughed as the drink seared your throat, accidentally taking in a larger gulp than you normally would have because of his outlandish question. “Is it really not that obvious?” 

His expression answered your question for you. 

“Jinyoung,” you started calmly. “The point of one-night stands is that they’re a one-time thing. You’re used to those, aren’t you? I wanted a good time and you offered one. We used each other once and now we’re done. What part don’t you get?” Your words were laced with venom as you tried to prevent him from getting involved any further. 

Jinyoung’s jaw tensed as he jutted out his chin slightly and nibbled on the inside of his cheek. “What if I don’t want it to be a one-time thing?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows at his absurd request, you let out a nasal scoff. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean I want to have one-night stands with you all the time. Only you.” Whether it was because of the alcohol of because he was telling the truth, his eyes never drifted away from your for even a split second. 

“Are you asking me out or for me to be your fuckbuddy?” you gawked, appalled at his bizarre and unusual attitude.  

He ran his hand down the back of his neck awkwardly as he tried to preserve his ‘cool guy’ image. “The former. I mean if you don’t that’s fine. We can just hook up again.” 

You were full-on giggling now. Wiping the tears from the edges of your eyes and gripping your aching stomach, you calmed yourself and tried to form words. “What makes you think that I even want to hook up again, let alone date you?” 

“Because I saw the way you stared at me during passing periods before we even hooked up. Before we even knew each other-” he pointed out bluntly. Outlining your lips which were damp from your drink, he smoothed his finger over the corner of your mouth. “I always caught you staring at me and biting your lip or tracing that perfectly shaped cupid’s bow of yours.” 

Sipping on your chaser nervously, he caught your chin with his fingertips and brought you into a light kiss, making your heart jump again. 

“You’re nice but still have a smart mouth, intelligent but still know how to have fun, pretty goddamn attractive,” he explained in detail then brought his lips close to yours again, but only to feel his breath fan against yours. “-and you taste so fucking good...” 

“I never took you as the dating type,” you muttered under your breath as you swirled your drink. 

“I never took you as the one-night stand type of girl either. Crazy how first impressions can be so misleading, right?” he remarked half-sarcastically while resting his cheek on his propped elbow. 

You shook your head again. “So why do you want to date me?” 

His eyebrow quirked up, not understanding the question he thought he had just answered. “Because I like you?” he replied begrudgingly, hating how he had to be the submissive one whenever he was with you. 

“But you don’t exactly seem like the committed’ type, per se,” you shrugged. 

“You don’t either, so it looks like we’re a perfect match.” Taking your drink from you and handing it to the bartender, he shot him a glare when you tried to ask for another drink, causing him to hold his hands up in defense and help the other customers. 

“What the fuck?” you scoffed in disbelief, surprised and annoyed at his strange attitude tonight. 

“I don’t want you around other guys. The thought of anyone else other than me touching you or even looking at you makes my blood boil. I want to be there for you when you’re sad and be the one who makes you happy. I want to wake up and send you those stupid cheesy good morning texts and fall asleep while video calling you until 3 a.m.,” he rambled with no signs of stopping any time soon. 

“I—” you tried to speak but couldn’t form words. In his case which he felt too much all at once, you didn’t know what to feel at all. Sure you had sparked an interest in him the first day of school two years ago, but that was before you were warned left and right about his playboy games. It took you a good six months before you got over your already-blooming crush on him, but you hadn’t realized that the feelings still lingered. 

“I want to be the shoulder you cry on, not some random guy who doesn’t know jackshit about you. It scares the shit out of me because I’ve never felt anything like this before, especially after a one-night stand. For anyone. Ever,” he broke his sentences shakily.

“How am I supposed to believe that you’ve changed?” you asked thoughtfully, skimming over the prospect of being in a real relationship after a few years. This was a side of him you weren’t sure anyone had ever seen before. 

He looked up from his hands and spoke quietly. “Because I want to believe you have too. And if you tell me to fuck off and leave you alone and that you really don’t want this, I’ll go.”  

“We don’t know each other that well, if at all,” you defended as you tried to support your earlier statement. You found him attractive both physically and personality-wise, but you had trained yourself to be immune to the feeling of companionship and were at a stalemate. Jinyoung was the first boy to actually confess—practically beg you—to stay with them after a fling. 

“I’d like to get to know you better as a person, Y/N. Maybe on a less intimate but more personal level,” he grinned mischievously at his own comment before smiling genuinely, eyes glinting and teeth beaming even in the ambient lighting. 

“We’re going to argue. Especially knowing how stubborn the two of us like to be,” you rebutted once more, trying to push him away as best you could. 

He nodded. “I know. I don’t mind.” 

“And we’ll disagree on things,” you added, making him nod his head in agreeance again. 

“I’m fine with that,” he grinned. 

“You really think you can handle me?” you gawked as your jaw nearly unhinged at his tenacity. 

“I should be asking you that,” the smart ass replied smugly, using your own words against you.

“I’ll piss you off like a bitch.”

“And I’ll deal with it,” he answered matter-of-factly. 

“You’ll get mad.” 

“And so will you.” 

No wonder he liked your smart mouth; he had the perfect attitude to match. Scoffing at his boldness, you couldn’t help but grin. “What if I break your heart?” 

"It would be an honor to have my first heartbreak with you,” he answered warmly without an ounce of hesitation. 

“You really want to do this?” you asked, still questioning if he was truly being 100% honest or whether it was just another one of his mind games. 

“Yes.” His serious expression and unchanged gaze indicated that he was indeed telling you the truth, and you couldn’t tell what scared you more; the way he spoke without a single lie laced in his words or the way his gaze captivated you longingly. 

“Okay,” the word slipping out of your mouth absentmindedly, revealing your deepest subconscious desires. You never thought a single word would intimidate you so much. 

“But first,” he chuckled as he leaned into you. “I’d rather do this—” 

Capturing your liquor-laced lips, your mind floated off into pure bliss. Your hands pressed onto his chest to anchor you and prevent you from tearing each other’s clothes off in the middle of a bar. Warmth spread across your chest as you felt him smile heartily into the kiss. 

“Are you going to be mine, princess?” his beamed, arms still wound securely around your body. 

“If you’ll let me be yours...” you replied in a whisper, shuddering at your new favorite pet name as your hands tangled into his hair and brushed it affectionately. 

Where would we go from here? 

[irazor]

hhhhh OR 78

(like a jealous even or smth… idk whatever is inspo to the magic)

Babe! 

Here’s part 3 of the childhood friends au for you. This turned out… even longer, haha, hence the ‘read more’. I hope you’ll like it! ❤️

(part 1 | part 2)

78. “I’m just looking out for you.”

The evening sky is a dark blue, and the late August air chilly as Isak opens the window above his desk.

“What are you doing?”

He turns his head to see Even watching him, standing on the floor with an amused grin on his face.

“Just wait. You’ll like it.”

In fact, he’s not too sure that Even will like this.

But he’s got enough hope that it’ll impress him. So, he reaches for his shirt pocket and, with a smile, he produces the joint he snuck in there when Even said goodbye to his parents in the hallway.

Even raises his eyebrows. “That’s what they taught you at scout camp?”

“Yeah.” He leans back against the window frame. “Among other things.”

Even gives him a lop-sided smile, before he climbs the desk and leans back against the other side of the window.

The dark shades under his eyes are even more pronounced now in the dusk, as are the hollows beneath his cheek bones.

Earlier on, when it’s been more than a month between their family dinners, it’s always been because of Isak’s mum. 

This time, however, it’s been over two months since the last one, and she’s been more stable than in a long time.

It could, of course, be due to the summer holidays. To the fact that he was to scout camp for ten days, and that Even was on some exchange program thing in England for three weeks.

But he can’t shake the feeling that, this time, the hiatus has something to do with Even.

Not that he hasn’t heard from him – they’ve been texting on and off, but they haven’t talked. And sometimes there’s been a delay of several hours, even a day, before Even has replied.

Usually, the month-long breaks between dinners have at least included a few nights of hanging out, just the two of them.

But this time he didn’t see Even at all. Two long, dry months, and he hasn’t even been able to decide if it’s been for the better, or worse.

At first sight of him in the hallway earlier, though, he knew. He’s missed him so much, so fucking much – he’s just been really good at imagining that he hasn’t.

And maybe he imagines the shade flashing across Even’s face as he holds out the joint towards him, or he doesn’t.

“Don’t you want some?” He raises an eyebrow at Even. “It’s good stuff.”

“Is it?” Even eyes the joint, then him. “Where did you get it, by the way?”

He shrugs. “Jonas has this new guy in his German class who fixes us up.”

“Did you try it?” Even bites his lip, a serious look on his face.

Isak rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve been smoking before, it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just looking out for you.” Even gives him an undecipherable look. And then, at last, he reaches out for the joint and lifts it to his mouth.

God. The way Even looks when he smokes.

His full lips closing around the white paper, his blue eyes almost grey in the evening light. The red glow from the tip when he takes a drag a stark contrast to his pale face.

The tips of Isak’s fingers already tingle as he accepts the joint back. “It’s good shit, right?”

“Yeah.” Even looks out the window, gaze fastened somewhere in the distance. “Hope they don’t come to check on us. Your parents, I mean.”

“They’ve never done that before.” Isak takes another drag, the weed crackling in the silence. “Why now?”

Even shrugs. “Nah. You’re probably right.”

He looks at Even again, and wonders if he’s noticed how casually Isak knocks the ashes off the stub, or that he hasn’t coughed even once. If he’s seen that Isak has grown a whole five centimeters during the course of this summer.

They pass the joint back and forth in silence, until it’s finished, Isak’s limbs glued to the desk, his head swimming.

“Holy shit,” Even says as he unfolds his long legs from the desk and slides down onto the floor. “This is intense.”

Isak can barely will his mouth to cooperate enough to answer, and the room spins as he leans forward to close the window, one hand on the frame to steady himself. “Uhh. Yeah.”

For a moment, he thinks he’ll slip, but then he manages to catch the window and close it. When he turns around, he sees Even sitting on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, eyes closed.

His legs are wobbly as he climbs down from the desk and sits down beside him. “Hey. You – you okay?”

Even nods, but keeps his eyes closed. “Yeah. Whoa. I’m just – can we just sit here?”

“Yeah.”

It’s not like he’ll tell Even, but he hasn’t smoked that many times before – and never this much, this fast.

So much for trying to impress him.

He closes his eyes as well, but everything around him spins faster and faster as he does, so he pries them open again, trying to focus on something outside of himself to keep from feeling sick.

And first thing he sees is, of course, Even.

His arms are thin, and the skin on them is pale, despite the long, warm summer. A few stray hairs stand in the wrong direction, a path of brown freckles lining the sleeve of his t-shirt. His collarbone is visible through the thin fabric, and a thought flashes by – there’s something he should ask Even, something he’s been wondering –

It flits away just as fast, and he’s back to watching Even. His full lips, slightly parted, his eyelashes resting on the top of his cheeks, the soft strands of hair falling over his forehead.

He’s never wanted anything more than he wants to kiss him right now.

His fingers are itching, and the skin on his whole body tingles, like there’s something alive underneath the surface. But his limbs feel like they’re made of lead, heavy against the floor, unable to move.

Suddenly, Even blinks, opens his eyes, and looks straight at him. And time stops.

It’s probably due to the weed, but in this moment, it feels like the only things to exist are him, Even, and the sound of their breaths in the silent room.

Neither of them say anything, or move. His whole body still molten into the floor, his head glued to the side of the mattress. His hand on the floor between them, still and unmoving.

The blue of Even’s eyes is pale, his pupils dark and wide, and Isak both sees and hears the apple of his throat move as he swallows.

He has no idea for how long they sit there, suspended in time, breathing, staring at each other, the air between them thick and non-existent all at once.

Until a sharp knock on the door tears the moment apart.

“Isak?” His mother’s voice sounds distorted, like it’s filtered through water instead of a thin wooden door. “Even?”

He clears his throat. The movement feels disconnected from himself, like it’s someone else’s body doing it, before he hears his own voice, hoarse and thick. “We’re – we’re sleeping.”

“Almost,” Even adds, his voice gravelly.

There’s a moment’s silence on the other side of the door, before his mother says “Alright. Goodnight then, boys.”

“Goodnight.” He lifts his hands and turns them over, to see if they still feel like his own.

The high is already starting to wear off, and in a not too pleasant way, the tingling on his skin more and more uncomfortable. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

Even nods, slowly. “Yeah.”

They brush their teeth in silence, Isak sitting on the toilet seat, Even leaning over the sink, one hand on the cabinet beside him.

The prickling feeling in his limbs hasn’t subsided as he lies in bed a few minutes later.

It’s like he doesn’t fit into his skin, like he’s too big and too small for it all at once. Like he should get out, go somewhere else, but has no idea where.

He tries to lie still and not wake Even by scraping his feet against the bedsheets, but it’s more and more difficult with each passing second.

Just as he’s about to turn and get out of bed, Even’s voice comes up from the mattress on the floor, and it sounds smaller than he’s ever heard it.

“Can I sleep in your bed? I don’t – I don’t feel so well.”

To be honest, he’s not sure how do handle the thought of Even in his bed right now.

But, on the other hand, lying here alone is an even worse option.

“Okay.” He scoots a little closer to the wall to make room for Even, and bites the inside of his cheek.

As the mattress dips behind him, he tries not to tense up, but he’s not sure how well he manages.

His whole body feels like a live wire, alight with anxiety from the weed, and from the knowledge that Even lies only inches behind him.

And then Even’s chest is against his back, Even’s arm is around his waist, his hand on his shoulder, and he wants to cry with relief.

It’s like his touch draws all the discomfort out of him, makes it seep out and dissolve, leaving only warmth and contentedness behind.

His throat constricts, and the inside of eyes prickle. If this isn’t supposed to be his, why does it feel so fucking right?

He tries to breathe steady, tries to keep control over his body and not lean too much into the touch, and then Even exhales, his breath warm on his neck.

“I – I felt really weird there for a while.” His voice is low, cracked, still small.

He swallows. “Me too.”

“Thanks for… for letting me sleep up here,” Even says next. “I – it feels a lot better now when I’m with you.”

It takes all of his efforts to not turn around in that moment.

If he would, he’d never be able to hold back from kissing Even, to let every inch of their body touch.

And what if Even would reciprocate, hold him and kiss him back, and then regret it when he’s sober?

Having Even like that and then lose him would be worse than never having him at all.

So he lies still, stares into the wall, and settles for the weight of Even’s arm across his chest.

It’s not until Even’s breaths have evened out and become heavier, that he dares to stroke his thumb over his wrist, the pulse beneath the thin skin slow but steady.

–––––

It’s still dark when he wakes up.

At first, he doesn’t realize that he’s awake. Only feels this encompassing, intense feeling of contentment, of fullness and belonging, and he recognizes it from somewhere – a dream? a memory?

Until he suddenly becomes aware of where he is.

Lying with his face in the crook of Even’s neck, his nose and lips touching the thin skin over his pulse point, with his arm slung around Even’s back, Even’s arm around him, their legs intertwined.

Just like the last time.

Horrified, he snaps his head up, and opens his eyes.

Only to find that Even – unlike the last time – is wide awake, and is looking straight at him.

His eyes are pale in the dark, his breathing steady, and he blinks, once, twice, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Isak. Just watches him with a sincere, serious look on his face.

“Why – why aren’t you sleeping?” His own voice sounds hoarse, cracked.

Even bites his lip, then releases it. “I… don’t know.”

His stare is unwavering, and Isak doesn’t know how to look away. “How… how long have you been awake for?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?” Even’s voice is low, almost a whisper.

And then he lifts his hand from Isak’s back and puts a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

The look in his eyes is so fond as he does it that Isak is sure his heart will stop.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Doesn’t know where to put his hands, doesn’t know how to breathe.

Even’s arms are warm and heavy around him, and maybe he should move away. But he can’t. He can’t move a limb, not a single finger.

Only watch Even as he watches him, his thumb brushing over Isak’s cheek, his face suddenly closer, mere inches from his own.

Isak holds his breath. Waits. Holds it.

And then, just like that, he doesn’t have it in him to wait anymore.

He grabs hold of Even’s t-shirt at the back of his neck, draws a breath, and kisses him.

It’s just a touch of lips at first, before he pulls back, breath short, throat tight with what he’s done. Even’s are lips parted, and his eyes wide and full of wonder.

And before he has time to turn around and bury his face in the pillow, Even slides his hand around his neck, and kisses him back.

How many times has he imagined this, awake or in his dreams?

He has no idea.

All he knows is that he never thought it would feel like this.

As Even presses their lips together, opens his mouth and tilts his head to the side, he can feel goosebumps rise all over his skin. His mouth is so warm, and it sends tingles all the way down his spine as their tongues touch – only a brush, but it feels so much. 

And nothing could prepare him for the smallest, most important details: how Even’s breath warms his upper lip when his nose is aligned with Isak’s own. How his eyelashes tickle against his cheek. Or how his breath stutters as Isak dares move his hand down to his upper back, and press him closer.

They kiss and kiss and kiss until he loses track of time, without any idea how long they’ve been lying here. His chest feels tight and endlessly full at the same time – if he could, he’d crawl inside Even, let himself be surrounded by him and stay there.

To be honest, he’s a bit afraid of what will happen when they stop. What Even will say. What will become of them.

Right now, he’s not sure he wants to know. 

So, he keeps kissing him, again and again, ignoring the way his lips tingle and that his mouth starts to feel dry.

At last, Even draws back and lays his head down on the pillow. His eyes are wide, and he licks his lips, swollen and red. It’s silent for a beat as they watch each other, and Isak holds his breath, waiting.

Until finally, Even lifts his hand to Isak’s face, cards his fingers through the hair at his temple, and speaks.

“Do you – do you remember that day when I waited for you? At school?”

He feels weightless, short of breath. “Yeah.”

“Do you remember what I said? On the sidewalk?” Even’s palm is warm and big against his cheek, unmoving.

“You – you said that you didn’t know if you were into guys. Instead of girls.”

“No, I didn’t.” Even moves even closer, their foreheads touching.

“Yes. You did.”

“No.” Even smiles, and traces his eyebrow with his thumb. “I said a guy.”

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, then. But I – I didn’t know what you meant, if you meant like, someone specific, like someone in your class, or guys in general –”

“God, Isak.” Even’s eyes almost disappear as he smiles even bigger, and shakes his head. “You’re so fucking thick sometimes.”

But the way he says it makes Isak’s insides fill with warmth.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much this summer.” He lets his own hand come to rest around the back of Even’s head.

Suddenly, Even’s face is serious again, his eyes blank. “Me too.”

“Where were you?” He moves his hand down to Even’s neck, fingers carding through the hair behind his ear.

“I – can we talk about it later? I really wanna tell you… everything.” Even bites his lip, before he looks down at Isak’s mouth, and then into his eyes again. “But – right now, can we just… kiss again? Please?

Even’s pulse beats quickly underneath his palm, alive, steady.

They do need to talk, of course. About a lot of things. What this means. Their parents, the future. Everything.

Right now, though, there’s only them, here in his bed, under the duvet.

So he nods, and holds on to Even’s neck, before he leans in, and kisses him again.