#does this count as a preview for my upcoming fic?

[cursed-clock-shop]

The best thing about Failure is all the silly little implied facts, like Jenny June dying from being too eepy

[flwrstqr]

★ 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU — NRK

preview. there are two sisters: yu karina, a popular girl who's eager to date, and yu y/n, an antisocial girl who is totally uninterested in dating. their overprotective father finally agrees to let karina date, but only if y/n does too. to solve this problem, new student eunwoo, who has a crush on karina, teams up with daeho, a wealthy but narcissistic student. daeho pays the school's bad boy, nishimura riki, to take you out on a date. at first, you are a bit resistant, but soon you find yourself gradually falling in love with riki, who starts to genuinely care for you.

meet the cast. bad boy!riki x antisocial!fem reader (feat yeh shuhua from gidle, yu karina from aespa, choi soobin from txt, new ocs)

genre. high school au, strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, crack, ten things i hate about you based, one sided enemies, medium fic

word count. 7k+

warnings. cursing, kissing, profanity (no nsfw or smut), riki just dating yn just for money at first, smoking, parties, drinking, yn being drunk, yn just being very very independent and stubborn, fighting, punching

danielle's note 𖥔 yes i'm cooking something good again... sorry for writing long/medium fics recently ... i've been obsessing over rom coms again and it gives me a new idea each time. LIKE i dont mean to but it just happens ☹️ but anyways this is for my no.1 fav riki stan (LOVE U)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀all-american bitch by olivia rodrigo, boyfriend by ariana grande, kill bill by sza, the perfect pair by beabadoobee, sunny day by beabadoobee, hot to go by chappell roan

YOU'RE WALKING THROUGH THE BUSTLING HALLS OF YOUR HIGH SCHOOL, the familiar scent of old textbooks and cleaning supplies filling your senses. Your best friend Shuhua is by your side, chatting away about the latest gossip.

Shuhua glances at you, a smirk playing on her lips. “You’re on a mission again, aren’t you?”

You rip a particularly flyer advertising the upcoming dance off the wall. “Someone has to clean up this mess,” you reply, crumpling it in your hand.

Shuhua laughs. “You’re such a rebel. Why do you hate these so much anyway?”

You shrug, “They’re just clutter. Besides, half of these events are pointless.”

Shuhua sighs dramatically. “You’re impossible. What about the spring festival? It might be fun.”

You give her a sideways glance. “You know I’m not into those kinds of things.”

She grins, linking her arm with yours. “That’s why I’m here, to drag you out of your comfort zone.”

You can’t help but smile at her persistence. “Good luck with that.”

EUNWOO WALKED THROUGH THE BUSTLING SCHOOL HALLWAYS, his eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. His guide, Soobin, pointed out different rooms and introduced him to a few students along the way.

“Over there is the science lab,” Soobin said, gesturing to a door on their left. “And that’s the library. You’ll probably spend a lot of time there; it’s pretty nice.”

As they continued down the corridor, Eunwoo’s gaze wandered until it landed on a girl standing by her locker, surrounded by a group of friends. She had long, wavy hair that cascaded down her back and a smile that seemed to light up the whole hallway.

Eunwoo nudged Soobin and nodded toward the girl. “Who’s that?” he asked, his voice tinged with awe.

Soobin followed Eunwoo’s gaze and chuckled softly. “That’s Yu Karina,” he explained. “She’s pretty popular around here. Smart, talented, and everyone wants to be her friend.”

“She’s… wow,” Eunwoo said, unable to take his eyes off her. “She’s really something.”

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Soobin agreed. “But there’s one thing you should know. Her dad is super strict. He doesn’t let her date anyone. So, if you’re thinking of asking her out, you might want to reconsider.”

Eunwoo’s heart sank a little, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to Karina’s presence. “Thanks for the heads up,” he said, tearing his eyes away from her and back to Soobin.

“No problem,” Soobin replied with a reassuring smile. “Oh, and by the way, I heard she’s looking for a French tutor. She mentioned it to a friend earlier.”

Eunwoo’s eyes lit up. “That’s great!” he exclaimed.

Soobin looked at him, puzzled. “You know how to speak French?”

“No,” Eunwoo admitted with a grin. “But I’m gonna after this.”

YOU'RE CURLED UP ON THE COUCH, ENGROSSED IN YOUR BOOK. Upstairs, you hear your sister, Karina, moving around. The front door opens, and your dad walks in.

Karina descends the stairs with a hopeful look on her face. "Dad, can I go out tonight with Daeho?" she asks, her tone carefully respectful.

Your dad doesn't miss a beat. "No, you can't go. There are two rules in this house. One, you can't date until you graduate. Two, you can't date until you graduate."

Karina groans, rolling her eyes dramatically. "Come on, Dad, that's not fair!"

He folds his arms and gives her a stern look. "Rules are rules, Karina. And you know why we have them."

Karina sighs heavily, clearly frustrated. "This is so unfair," she mutters.

Your dad pauses, considering something. Then, unexpectedly, he says, "Fine, Karina. You can date... but only if your sister finds a date."

Karina's jaw drops. "What? That stupid girl? She can never find one! She's always in her little corner reading books and obsessing over her little bands!"

You roll your eyes, barely glancing up from your book.Without a word, you close your book and stand, walking out of the room, leaving Karina to her whining and your dad to his lecturing.

As you start climbing the stairs, you hear Karina shout in frustration, "Can you just find a stupid retard who can take you on a date so I can date?"

KARINA AND EUWNOO SAT AT A TABLE IN THE QUIET CORNER OF THE LIBRARY, French textbooks and notes spread out before them. Eunwoo was doing his best to tutor Karina, but her attention was clearly elsewhere. She tapped her pen against the table, her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window.

“So, uh, for our next class,” Eunwoo began hesitantly, trying to regain her focus, “how about we get some, uh, French food? On Saturday, at 6 pm?”

Karina snapped back to attention, with a huge grin her face. “Are you asking me out?”

Eunwoo scratched the nape of his neck, clearly flustered. “Listen, I know your dad doesn't let you date, but if it’s for French class…”

Karina cut him off, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute, my dad just came up with a rule that I can date if my sister does.”

Eunwoo's face lit up with a hopeful smile. “Oh, then that’s great—”

“No, it’s not great,” Karina interrupted again, exasperation in her voice. “She’s a total loser. Well, she used to be popular, but things changed.” She shrugged dismissively.

Eunwoo frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, uh, I can go find someone that would be willing to date her—”

Karina's eyes widened, and she leaned forward excitedly. “Wait, really? That would be great!”

“Yeah—” Eunwoo started to reply, but Karina was already on her feet.

“Oh my god, thank you! Gotta go, bye!” she exclaimed, grabbing her bag and dashing out of the library, leaving Eunwoo sitting there.

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN WANDERED AROUND THE CAMPUS, their mission clear but their progress slow. Finding the perfect guy to date you was proving to be more challenging than Eunwoo had anticipated. He approached student after student, but each one turned him down, unwilling to go out with someone they considered too independent or too stubborn.

Finally, they found themselves in the science lab, Eunwoo ready to give up. His shoulders slumped as he glanced around the nearly empty hallways.

Then, Eunwoo's eyes landed on someone unexpected. Nishimura Riki, the school's notorious bad boy, was leaning against a lab table, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke curling lazily into the air.

Soobin noticed Eunwoo's gaze and quickly shook his head. "The thing is, he's the bad boy of the school," Soobin explained, lowering his voice. "He smokes, he commits crimes, and someone even told me he sold his own liver for a speaker in the dark markets."

Eunwoo stared at Riki,"That's our guy," he declared with a determined nod.

Soobin looked at him incredulously. "Are you serious? He’s the worst possible choice!"

Eunwoo set his jaw. "Sometimes, the worst choice is the only choice we have. Besides, we don’t have any other options left."

AS THEY WALKED AWAY FROM RIKI, Eunwoo turned to Soobin, a worried expression on his face. “Do you think this is a good idea?”

Soobin shrugged. “Honestly? Probably not. But I’ve got another idea.” A smirk spread across his face. “I have someone in mind who might be willing to ask Riki.”

During lunch, Soobin led Eunwoo over to a table where Daeho, the narcissistic, rich, and popular boy, was holding court with his friends. Daeho looked up as they approached, his expression a mixture of curiosity and mild annoyance.

“Hey, Daeho,” Soobin began smoothly, “you like Karina, right?”

Daeho raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly. “Yeah, and?”

“Well, I’ve got a plan,” Soobin continued. “Karina can’t date until her sister dates. So, you need to hire a guy who’ll go out with her.”

Daeho leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “And who would that be?”

Soobin pointed across the cafeteria to where Riki was sitting, eating with his friend. “That guy.”

Daeho followed Soobin’s gaze and let out a disbelieving laugh. “Him? I heard he ate a whole live duck.”

Soobin nodded, unfazed. “Except for the feet and beak. Look, he’s a full investment.”

Daeho glanced at Riki again, skepticism written all over his face. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”

Soobin clapped Daeho on the shoulder. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

As they walked away, Eunwoo whispered to Soobin, “Are you sure this is going to work?”

Soobin grinned. “We’ve got the rich guy on board now. What could go wrong?”

Eunwoo sighed, still feeling uneasy about the plan but hopeful that somehow, it would all work out.

RIKI WAS OUT ON THE FIELD, smoking and lazily watching the soccer game. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grass. As he exhaled a plume of smoke, he noticed Daeho approaching him, looking uncharacteristically determined.

Riki raised an eyebrow as Daeho stood before him. "Do I know you?" he asked, clearly unimpressed.

Daeho sighed, trying to remain patient. "Listen, you see that girl?" He pointed across the field to you, where you were playing soccer with an intense focus, your hair tied up in a ponytail as you skillfully kicked the ball across the whole field.

"That's Yu Y/N," Daeho continued. "I want you to go out with her."

Riki let out a laugh, the idea seeming ridiculous. "Yeah, right."

Daeho clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. "Look, I can't take out her sister until Y/N starts dating."

Riki smirked, shaking his head. "That's a really good story," he said sarcastically. "But not my problem." He stood up, ready to walk away.

"What if I add some money to this?" Daeho offered, desperation creeping into his voice.

Riki paused, turning back around with a raised eyebrow. "How much?"

"$30?"

Riki scoffed. "Movies, that's like $15. Popcorn, that's $45, and then the ride back home, that's like $25. So we're looking at about $75."

Daeho frowned, realizing he was being haggled. "Take it or leave it."

Riki gave him a challenging look. "Fine, $50?"

Daeho hesitated for a moment but then nodded. "Deal."

Riki smirked, pocketing the money. "Alright then, you've got yourself a deal." He turned his gaze back to the field, watching you for a moment. "This should be interesting." As Riki walked away, Daeho couldn't help but feel a mixture of relief.

AS THE FINAL WHISTLE BLEW, signaling the end of the game, you wiped the sweat off your forehead and grabbed your water bottle. Just as you were about to head off the field, Riki approached with a confident stride.

"Hey, princess," he greeted with a teasing smile.

You rolled your eyes, pausing just long enough to respond. "Need anything?"

Riki didn't miss a beat. "I'll pick you up on Friday."

"Oh right, Friday," you replied sarcastically, the skepticism clear in your tone.

"Well, I'll take you anywhere you like," he offered, trying to sound accommodating.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again. "Yeah, super fun. Listen, you probably don't even know my name."

Riki's smirk didn't falter. "I know a lot more than you think."

"Oh, very doubtful," you retorted, walking away with a wave of your hand.

Riki stood there, scoffing in shock, watching you go. For the first time, he realized this might be more challenging than he imagined it to be.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you found yourself at a local record store, browsing through the vinyls and picking out your favorite albums. After paying, you stepped outside with a bag full of records, only to see Riki leaning casually against your car.

"Not a bad car," he remarked, smirking.

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, so now you're following me?"

He shook his head, pointing towards the nearby mart. "I was over there and saw your car, so I thought I'd stop by and say hi."

"Oh, well then, hi," you retorted, making your way to the driver's seat.

"Not a talker?" he asked, watching you with amusement.

You shrugged, your patience wearing thin. "Listen, I'm not interested."

"You're not afraid of me, are you?" Riki teased, trying to gauge your reaction.

"Why would I be?" you shot back, giving him a challenging look.

"Because you want me," he replied, leaning in closer with a mischievous grin.

You laughed, the sarcasm dripping from your voice. "Haha, I want you so bad, baby."

With that, you motioned for him to move. "Now, won't you move?"

Riki stepped aside, still taken aback by your bluntness. You got into the driver's seat and started the engine, leaving him standing there in stunned as you drove away. As he watched your car disappear down the road, he couldn't help but feel that it might a bit tough to get you.

THE NEXT DAY, Riki was leaning against a locker, a casual look on his face. Daeho approached him, glancing around to ensure they weren't being overheard.

"How's the plan?" Daeho asked, his voice low.

Riki smirked. "I just upped my price."

Daeho raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "By how much?"

"$100," Riki replied confidently.

Daeho hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Deal." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another $25, placing it into Riki's hand. "I expect some results."

Riki pocketed the money, "You'll get them."

With that, Daeho turned around and walked away, leaving Riki standing there, thinking of what to do next.

LATER THAT DAY, Riki was hanging out near the bleachers when Eunwoo and Soobin approached him. Riki glanced up, noting their determined expressions.

"Hey, Riki," Eunwoo started, "we heard about your little arrangement with Daeho."

Riki raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Soobin and I want to help," Eunwoo continued. "I like Karina and you know her sister, yn, needs to get a date first."

Riki leaned back, "What's in it for me?"

Soobin stepped forward. "Well you know, we can do some research about her. No money involved, just a mutual benefit."

Riki smirked, nodding. "Alright, deal."

Eunwoo grinned, sharing a knowing look with Soobin, "and we have a perfect opportunity for you to ask her out."

"What would that be?" Riki raises his eyebrow.

"The upcoming party hosted by Bogey Lowenstein."

"i'll think about." Riki smirked as he walked off

LATER THAT WEEK, Daeho spotted Karina by her locker. With a confident look, he approached her, his usual smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey, Karina," Daeho called out, leaning casually against the lockers.

Karina looked up, slightly taken aback by his presence. "Oh, hey, Daeho. What's up?"

"I was thinking," Daeho began, "you should come with me to Bogey Lowenstein's party this weekend."

Karina raised an eyebrow, "Really? And why's that?"

Daeho shrugged, flashing a cocky grin. "Well, it’s the biggest party of the year. Wouldn't you want to go with the guy everyone’s talking about?"

Karina closed her locker, "A party?"

Daeho chuckled, unfazed. "Come on, Karina. It'll be fun. Besides, you deserve to be seen with someone who can actually keep up with you."

Karina hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, Daeho. I'll go with you,"

KARINA WALKED ALONGSIDE EUNWOO VENTING HER FRUSTRATION. "Ugh, I can never go to that party... My dad is gonna kill me!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

Eunwoo thought for a moment. "Okay, well, I got a plan. I set your sister up with a boy, but things aren't going that great."

Karina sighed deeply, feeling defeated. "I'm never gonna get to go..."

Eunwoo glanced at her, determination shining in his eyes. "Okay then, tell me what your sister likes."

Karina rolled her eyes. "She said before she would die before dating someone who smokes. And her types are 'pretty boys,' which I don't even know what that means."

Eunwoo nodded, taking mental notes. "Anything else?"

"How am I supposed to know my crazy sister's little mind?" Karina replied, exasperated.

Eunwoo sighed, realizing the complexity of the situation. "Well, nothing has worked so far. We have to go behind enemy lines here."

LATER THAT DAY, Karina and Eunwoo found themselves sneaking into your room, carefully rummaging through your drawer.

"Aha! A date book, concert tickets, and a reading list," Karina exclaimed, shoving the items into Eunwoo's hands. "That should give you enough information, right?"

Eunwoo looked at the pile, nodding slowly. "Uh, right. This should help. Um, how about your room?"

Karina quickly shook her head. "Oh uhm I think we've got what we need! Let's get out of here,"

EUNWOO AND SOOBIN approached Riki at school, determination in their eyes.

"Okay, so we figured out some information about her," Eunwoo began. "She hates smokers, so you might have to drop that cigarette."

Riki raised an eyebrow but complied, dropping his cigarette and stepping on it. "Okay, so I have to say I'm a non-smoker?"

Soobin nodded. "Exactly. And she likes feminist prose and angry girl music."

Eunwoo handed Riki a list. "Here's a list of the CDs she had in her room."

Riki scanned the list, his expression skeptical. "So you're saying all I need to do is go to some stupid concert with her?"

Eunwoo nodded. "Well, her favorite band is playing tomorrow, and she'll be there since she got the tickets."

Riki groaned, clearly not thrilled by the idea. "No way I'm going there."

"It's fine," Soobin reassured him. "It's just for one night."

Riki sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. But you owe me for this."

Eunwoo and Soobin exchanged relieved glances, knowing they were one step closer to their goal.

RIKI TRUDGED TOWARDS THE CONCERT VENUE, hands shoved deep into his pockets. His footsteps were slow, almost reluctant, as he approached the main area where a sea of girls buzzed with excitement. From a distance, he scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on you and your best friend, Shuhua, dancing with abandon. A feeling churned in his stomach as he watched you, and he couldn’t quite place what it was. Sighing, he made his way to the bar.

As Riki sipped his drink, trying to make sense of the evening, you approached the bar for some water. Your eyes narrowed when you noticed him standing there.

"If you plan on asking me out again, you might as well just get it over with," you said, a hint of exasperation in your voice.

"Do you mind? You're kind of ruining the mood here," Riki retorted, his tone defensive.

"You're not with your usual smoke," you observed, glancing around.

"I know, I quit. Apparently, they're bad for you," he replied with a shrug.

"You think?" you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, you know, the Raincoats aren't that bad," he said, changing the subject.

You looked at him, a bit surprised. "You know the Raincoats?"

"Why don't you?" he countered, standing up as if to leave. You followed him, curious.

"I've just never seen you so pretty under this light," he said loudly, just as the room suddenly fell quiet. Laughter erupted from those around you, and you glanced at him, a genuine smile breaking across your face for the first time that evening. He smiled back.

"Come to Bogey's party with me?" he asked.

You laughed, shaking your head. "You really aren't giving up, are you?"

"Is that a yes?" he pressed.

"No," you said firmly, still smiling.

"Well, was that a no?" he called after you as you walked away, laughter in your wake.

"No!" you shouted back over your shoulder.

"I'll come at 9:30 then!" he declared, grinning as he watched you disappear into the crowd.

IT'S THE DAY OF THE PARTY, and Karina walks down the stairs, dressed and ready to leave. "Where do you think you're going?" your dad asks, his voice firm.

"To a party," Karina replies nonchalantly.

He sighs deeply, a hint of frustration in his tone. "We talked about this, Karina."

"Well, it's a small party! Everyone in the school is going," she insists.

"YN is not going, then you're not going," your dad states firmly.

Karina's eyes widen in disbelief before she turns to glare at you. "God, why can't you be normal for once, YN?"

You roll your eyes, unfazed by her outburst. Karina then softens, her desperation clear. "Please, YN, go to the dance. Please, please," she begs.

You hesitate, weighing your options. Finally, you relent. "Fine, I'll make an appearance," you agree with a sigh before you change into a more formal outfit.

As you open the front door, you see Riki standing there, leaning casually against the doorframe. "What are you doing here?" you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"9:30, right?" he replies with a smirk.

"Whatever, I'm driving," you mutter, brushing past him as you head to the car. Riki follows you, a satisfied grin on his face as he trails behind.

AT THE PARTY, you stand off to the side, observing the chaotic scene unfold around you. People are kissing, drinking, and dancing. Your eyes narrow as you spot Daeho smirking and making his way toward Karina, who lights up as he approaches.

Daeho and Karina begin flirting openly, their conversation punctuated by giggles and playful touches. You feel a pang of annoyance as Karina eagerly pushes you aside to make room for Daeho. You roll your eyes in frustration and grab a random drink from the counter, chugging it down in one go, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.

Riki approaches you, concern evident on his face. "I've been looking for you everywhere," he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

"I'm getting trashed at a party. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?" you snap, rolling your eyes again as you take another swig from your drink.

Meanwhile, across the room, Eunwoo walks over to Karina, who is still engrossed in her conversation with Daeho. "Oh, Eunwoo," she says, sounding surprised. Eunwoo glances at Daeho with a confused look and then back at Karina, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation.

"Come on, let's go," Daeho says, dragging Karina away. She gives Eunwoo a helpless little wave before turning her attention back to Daeho. Eunwoo pauses, watching her disappear into the crowd, a look of disappointment flashing across his face.

As Daeho and Karina walk around, he talks nonstop about himself, barely giving Karina a chance to speakFeeling annoyed, she turns around and leaves him, while Daeho quickly shifts his attention to flirting with other girls.

Later, Riki is still looking for you. When he finally finds you, you’re fully drunk, dancing on top of a table with the music blaring. Your movements are unsteady, and you accidentally hit your head on a light, nearly falling off the table. Riki catches you just in time, his grip firm yet gentle.

"Come on, you're gonna get a concussion," he says, helping you down from the table and guiding you to a clearer, quieter area away from the throngs of people.

Just then, Eunwoo pulls Riki aside, his frustration evident. "I might give up on her," Eunwoo admits, his voice heavy with resignation.

"No, you can't give up on her. It's either you go for her or go for her," Riki insists, his determination unwavering. He then returns to help you, leaving Eunwoo to ponder his words.

As Riki leads you to a more secluded spot, you try to catch your breath. "Why are you doing this?" you ask, your words slurring slightly.

"Because I told you that you might have a concussion," Riki replies, his tone patient.

"You don't care if I wake up," you retort, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.

"I do," he says, looking into your eyes with sincerity.

"Why?" you challenge him, your voice softer now.

"Because then I'd have to start taking out girls who actually like me," he responds with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood.

"Like you could find one," you say, a hint of teasing in your voice. "I just... need to sit down."

You sit down on a swing, trying to regain your balance. As you nearly fall off again, Riki catches you, his cologne mingling with the night air. The scent is comforting, and you lean into him slightly. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hits you, and you feel overwhelmingly faint. Riki panics, his grip tightening on you, but before he can react further, you open your eyes and throw up.

"Great, just great," Riki mutters, his voice a mix of frustration and concern He helps you sit back on the swing, his hands firm on your shoulders.

As you try to clear your head, Riki sits down beside you, keeping a close eye on you. "You need to take it easy," he says softly, his tone more gentle now. "This isn't the way to handle things."

"I know," you mumble, your head still spinning. "I just... I just needed to forget for a while."

AS THE NIGHT WINDS DOWN , Riki drives you home, the hum of the engine mingling with the music blasting through the speakers. You're still half drunk, feeling the aftereffects of the party, but a strange sense of clarity begins to settle over you.

"I should do this," you say, gesturing toward the car's interior as you lean back in your seat.

"Start a band?" Riki asks, glancing at you with a teasing smile.

You laugh, shaking your head. "No, install car stereos. My father would LOVE for me to start a band," you add with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Riki chuckles, pulling up in front of your house. "It must be ass having a dad like that," he comments, turning the engine off.

You shrug, the weight of your family's expectations pressing down on you. "I mean, it's not that bad. It's just..."

"Just what?" he prompts, his tone gentle, encouraging you to open up.

"He wants me to be like, you know, Karina," you admit, your voice tinged with frustration and a hint of sadness.

Riki pauses, considering his words carefully. "Well, no offense or anything... but I know everyone 'digs' your sister. But she's without."

"Without what?" you ask, genuinely curious.

"Without... substance, I guess. She's all surface," he explains, glancing at you with an earnest expression. "But you... you've got depth."

You look at him, surprised by his honesty. "You know, you're not as vile as I thought you were," you say softly, your eyes meeting his.

Riki's gaze lingers on your lips, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. Feeling a rush of emotions, you lean in for a kiss, but at the last second, he turns away.

"Maybe next time," he says hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raise your eyebrow, confused and a bit hurt, but you nod reluctantly. "Yeah, maybe next time," you murmur, opening the car door and stepping out.

RIKI MEETS UP WITH EUNWOO at their usual spot, a small café near the school. The sun is just beginning to rise, casting a soft glow over the sleepy town.

"So, are you giving up on her?" Riki asks, stirring his coffee absently.

"Nope," Eunwoo replies, a wide grin spreading across his face. "It wasn't until she kissed me last night."

Riki pauses, his own smile starting to grow. "Where?"

"In the car," Eunwoo says, still smiling. Riki's smile drops abruptly.

Eunwoo looks confused. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything. She would've been too drunk to remember," Riki says simply, his voice flat.

A FEW DAYS LATER, you’re walking with your best friend Shuhua, enjoying the crisp morning air as you head to school. The sun is shining, and the school grounds are buzzing with the usual pre-class chatter.

"Are you going to prom?" Shuhua asks, nudging you playfully.

You shrug, a nonchalant expression on your face. "Only if someone asks me out. Got no dresses anyway."

"Don’t you got a man?" Shuhua teases, winking at you.

You punch her arm lightly, rolling your eyes. "Oh, shush. I don't even remember anything from that day," you say, feeling a mix of frustration and curiosity about the night of the party.

As you both walk inside the classroom, you find your seats just as the bell rings. The teacher, Mrs. Kim, stands at the front of the room, waiting for everyone to settle down.

"Good morning, class," she begins, her voice calm and authoritative. "Today, we’re starting a new poetry project. Each of you will be tasked with creating a poems over the next two weeks. This project is an opportunity to express yourselves and explore your creativity. Perhaps some of you will even discover a hidden talent."

AS RIKI IS HEADING TO HIS LOCKER, Daeho approaches him with a confident stride. He pulls out a wad of cash and holds it out to Riki.

"Here," Daeho says, his tone matter-of-fact. "I want you to go all out and ask YN to prom." He counts out $200, handing it to Riki.

Riki sighs, shaking his head. "Do you know what? I'm sick of this game."

Daeho sighs in exasperation, pulling out another $100 bill. "Fine, $300?" He waves the bill enticingly in front of Riki.

Riki stares at the money, feeling a mix of frustration and temptation. Hesitantly, he takes the cash, the weight of the bills heavy in his hand. "Deal," he mutters.

YOU FIND YOURSELF AT THE LOCAL GUITAR SHOP, testing out a sleek new guitar. The shop is quiet, with only the faint hum of an amp and the occasional strum of strings breaking the silence. You lose yourself in the music, fingers dancing over the frets.

As you play, Riki walks in. His eyes immediately fixate on you, captivated by the way you effortlessly make the guitar sing. He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching you.

Before you can turn around and realize he’s there, Riki quietly slips out of the store, leaving as silently as he came. The bell above the door rings softly, but you’re too immersed in your music to notice.

DURING DETENTION, the classroom is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the scratch of pencils on paper and the occasional rustling of pages. Riki sits at his desk, focused on his work, when he notices you walk in, looking particularly determined.

You spot him and make brief eye contact. Then, in a moment of clear but silent communication, you mouth the words "out the window" to him. Riki's eyes widen slightly, and he nods.

Without wasting a moment, you walk over to the principal’s desk, where Mr. Thompson is absorbed in grading papers. You start chatting, your voice intentionally loud.

"Mr. Thompson, did you know that the cafeteria is planning to add more vegetarian options next week?" you say, trying to sound enthusiastic. "And I heard they're thinking about changing the school colors to something more vibrant. Isn't that exciting?"

Mr. Thompson looks up from his papers, his attention momentarily diverted. "Really? I hadn't heard about that. Interesting..."

As you continue your rambling, your eyes dart over to Riki. He glances toward the window, then makes his move. He quickly and quietly slips out of his seat and makes his way to the window, sliding it open with practiced ease.

You keep up your distraction, now discussing something completely irrelevant about the new vending machine snacks. "And, oh! The snacks! They might be switching to gluten-free options. I mean, who cares about gluten, right? But it’s a big deal!"

Riki is now halfway out the window, his movements smooth and swift. You watch as he manages to sneak out of the building, disappearing from view.

Seeing him safely out, you wrap up your conversation "Yeah! So, um, thanks for listening, Mr. Thompson. Uhm, bye."

YOU AND RIKI ARE ON A BOAT DATE.

"Can't thank you enough for sneaking me out of detention," Riki says, glancing at you with a smirk.

You laugh, the sound mingling with the quiet of the lake. "I mean, detention is a pain in the ass anyways." Riki's gaze lingers on you as you look back at him, your smile widening.

"So, what's your excuse?" Riki asks after a pause, his eyes still fixed on yours.

"For?" you prompt, genuinely curious.

"For acting the way we do?" he clarifies, raising an eyebrow.

You think for a moment, then reply, "I don’t like to do what people expect. Why should I live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"

Riki nods, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Wise words, hmm?"

You roll your eyes playfully. Your gaze lingers on his for a moment before you turn your attention back to the conversation. "Well, I suppose we all need a little rebellion now and then."

"Speaking of which," riki add, trying to shift the conversation to something lighter, "up for some paintball games?"

you glance at riki, slightly puzzled. "Huh?"

THE PAINTBALL FIELD IS A WHIRLWIND OF CHAOS. Paint splatters everywhere, turning the once-green grass into a vibrant canvas of colors.

You and Riki are in the thick of it, your faces smeared with colorful splotches of paint. You're both laughing and ducking behind barriers, your competitive spirits shining through. After a particularly intense round, you both find yourselves crashing onto a large pile of hay bales, the soft, cushioned landing a welcome relief.

As you lie there, catching your breath, Riki’s gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. You notice the way his eyes linger on you, and without thinking, you lean in and close the distance between you.

Your lips meet his in a soft kiss. Riki’s hand instinctively cups your cheek. You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens.

After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, you pull back, breathless and smiling. Before Riki can fully recover from the kiss, you reach for a nearby paintball, holding it up playfully.

With a mischievous grin, you drop the paintball on him, splattering his shirt with a burst of color.

"You’re going to pay for that!" he shouts, his voice filled with laughter as he leaps up and starts chasing you.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU SETTLE IN, you’re laughing and talking when Riki suddenly leans in and kisses your neck.

“Come to prom with me, hm?” Riki asks, his voice gentle but hopeful.

You glance at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Is that a request or a command?”

“Come on, go with me,” he replies, his tone earnest.

You shake your head, still smiling but firm. “No.”

Riki’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to,” you say, your voice steady. “Because it’s a stupid tradition.”

Riki’s expression shifts to one of confusion and frustration. “Come on, people won’t expect you to go.”

You narrow your eyes, feeling a sense of unease. “Why are you pushing this so much?”

Riki is momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

“What’s in it for you?” you demand, your tone sharper now. “Why do you want me to go so badly?”

Riki hesitates, clearly taken aback by your question. “So now I need a motive to be with you?” he responds, a hint of defensiveness in his voice.

“You tell me,” you press, your curiosity piqued.

Riki’s expression shifts again, but there’s something off in his demeanor. “You need therapy. Has anyone told you that?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Answer me, Riki.”

He looks away, frustration evident in his posture. “Nothing. There’s nothing in it for me.”

Before you can respond, Riki pulls out a cigarette, lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. The sight catches you off guard.

Your eyes widen as you watch him take a drag.

“I—” you start, but your words trail off.

“I need some space,” you say, your voice trembling slightly as you turn and head inside the house.

────────────────────────────────

YOU STAND IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR, admiring your reflection. You're wearing a stunning, floor-length, royal blue gown with delicate silver embroidery along the bodice. The dress has a sweetheart neckline and a slight shimmer that catches the light with every movement. Your hair is styled in loose waves, and you're wearing simple yet elegant jewelry to complement your outfit.

"I'm going to prom, Dad," you call out, grabbing your clutch.

Your dad looks up from his newspaper, smiling warmly. "Oh, okay. Have fun, sweetie."

As you head towards the door, your younger sister Karina follows closely behind. Your dad stands up, puzzled. "Where are you going?"

"To prom?" Karina replies nonchalantly.

Just then, the doorbell rings. You open it to find Eunwoo standing there, looking dapper in his tuxedo. His jaw drops when he sees Karina.

Your dad, sensing something is up, looks between Karina and Eunwoo. "Turn and explain," he demands.

Karina sighs dramatically. "Fine. You know how you said I could date someone only if Y/N does? Well, turns out she found someone perfect for her. And Eunwoo asked me to prom, and I really want to go."

Your dad scrutinizes Eunwoo for a moment before nodding. "Fine, but be back before 9 PM."

Karina's eyes widen in surprise and delight. "Okay, okay! Bye!" She grabs Eunwoo's arm and drags him out of the house towards his car.

────────────────────────────────

YOU ARRIVE AT THE PROM VENUE, the decorations twinkling under the dim lights. The room is filled with laughter and music, but your eyes scan the crowd for someone specific. You spot Riki near the punch table, looking a bit nervous. Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him.

"Hey," you greet, and he turns around, his eyes widening in shock at how pretty you look.

"Hi," he responds, his voice almost a whisper.

"Look, I'm sorry about how I questioned your motives," you say, feeling a bit awkward but sincere.

Riki sighs, a smile forming on his lips. "You're forgiven."

You smile back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "Ready for prom, then?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Ready for sure."

────────────────────────────────

ON THE DANCE FLOOR, you and Riki are having a blast, laughing and twirling around. The music pulses through the room. Your eyes occasionally dart to Eunwoo and Karina, who are dancing together.

Suddenly, your favorite song starts playing. Your face lights up with excitement. As the chorus hits, you feel a surge of happiness. Impulsively, you lean in and kiss Riki on the lips. He seems surprised at first, but then he smiles into the kiss. His hands on your waist. When you pull back, both of you are laughing, foreheads against each other. What was the worse that could happen?

────────────────────────────────

KARINA IS IN THE BATHROOM, carefully applying her lipstick in the mirror. She takes a step back, admiring her reflection when the door opens, and her best friend walks in.

"What are you doing in here?" her friend asks with a smirk.

Karina glances over, "Oh, Daeho picked me up," she replies, a smug look on her face.

Karina's eyes narrow. "Oh, well, you can have him all."

Her friend shrugs, her smirk widening. "Oh, well, he only liked you for one reason anyway. Plus, he had a little bet going on with his friends."

Karina's smile falters. "What do you mean?" she asks, a sinking feeling in her chest.

"He's gonna nail you tonight," her best friend adds nonchalantly.

Realization dawns on Karina, and a wave of panic washes over her. She doesn't waste another second. Grabbing her clutch, she rushes out of the bathroom, her heart pounding. She needs to find you immediately.

────────────────────────────────

AS YOU'RE DNACING WITH RIKI, he spins you around, making you laugh with joy. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes as Daeho shows up and shoves Riki aside with force.

"Why is Karina with that stupid asshole?" Daeho sneers, his eyes blazing with anger.

Riki blinks in confusion, trying to steady himself. "What are you talking about?"

"I didn’t pay you to take out Y/N for some punk to take out Karina," Daeho snaps, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Nothing in it for you, huh?" you mumble. Without another word, you push past him.

As you weave through the crowd, you spot Eunwoo frantically looking around, searching for Karina. He spots Daeho and approaches him, but before he can say anything, Daeho punches him, sending him to the ground.

Karina, who had been rushing to find you, arrives just in time to witness the assault. Her eyes widen in horror and rage as she sees Eunwoo on the floor.

She swings her fist and lands a punch squarely on Daeho's face. "That's what you get for making me date you, bitch!"

Daeho reels from the impact, but Karina doesn't stop. She punches him again, harder this time, her knuckles connecting with a sickening thud. "And that's what you get for doing that to my sister!"

Daeho stumbles back, his face contorted in pain and shock. The crowd watches in stunned silence as Karina turns away from him, breathing heavily. She rushes to Eunwoo's side and helps him to his feet, her expression softening with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly.

Eunwoo nods, wincing as he touches his jaw. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks, Karina."

────────────────────────────────

YOU FIND YOURSELF OUTSIDE THE PROM VENUE, your heart heavy with a mix of anger and hurt. The cool night air does little to calm your racing thoughts. Just then, Riki finds you, his face etched with desperation.

"Let me explain!" he pleads, his voice strained.

"You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate? I knew this was a setup!" you snap, glaring at him as you turn to walk away.

Riki quickly grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. "Y/N! It wasn't like that," he insists, his grip firm but gentle.

You whip around, your eyes blazing. "Oh, what was it then? A down payment now and a bonus for sleeping with me?" you retort, your voice dripping with sarcasm and pain.

Riki's face crumples, his eyes searching yours. "No, I didn't care about the money. I cared…" His voice falters as he looks into your eyes. He takes a deep breath, his expression softening. "I care about you."

You narrow your eyes, the hurt and betrayal swirling inside you. "You are so not what I thought you were," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

He tries to reach for you again, desperation clear in his eyes. "Please, Y/N, just listen—"

But you push him away, tears stinging your eyes. "No, Riki. I can't," you say, your voice breaking. Without looking back, you rush away from him, your heart aching with every step.

────────────────────────────────

IT'S POETRY READING DAY IN CLASS, and Mrs. Kim stands at the front, looking over her students. "Who wants to start their poem first?" she asks.

Reluctantly, you raise your hand, feeling the weight of your emotions. Across the room, Riki watches you intently.

You stand up and begin, your voice steady but filled with emotion. "I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick; it even makes me rhyme."

You sigh, the words heavy on your heart. "I hate it… I hate the way you're always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry." You glance up, tears welling in your eyes as you look directly at Riki. "I hate it when you're not around and the fact that you didn't call. But mostly, I hate the way I don't hate you, not even close. Not even a little, not even at all."

As you finish, you walk back to your seat, tears streaming down your face. The room is silent, the weight of your words hanging in the air. Riki's eyes are glued to you, his expression a mix of regret and realization. He thinks for a moment, knowing he has something in mind.

────────────────────────────────

AFTER SCHOOL, you're walking to your car, and then you see it: a guitar, but not just any guitar—your favorite dream guitar. You freeze, admiring it in shock. You open the front door and grab the guitar in awe, your fingers tracing the strings.

"Nice, huh?" a voice says from behind. You turn to see Riki, smiling.

"A Fender Strat?" you whisper, your eyes widening as you glance at him. "Is it for me?"

He grins. "Yeah, I thought you could use it, you know, when you start your band. Besides, I had extra cash, you know."

You raise an eyebrow, curious. "Extra cash?"

Riki takes a breath, looking a bit sheepish. "Some asshole paid me to take out this really pretty girl."

You stare at him, a small smile forming on your face. "Is that right?"

He shrugs, stepping closer. "Yeah, but I screwed up. I fell for her."

"Really?" you ask, your heart pounding.

"I think so," he murmurs, as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. His lips meet yours gently at first, soft, as if testing the waters. His hand on your waist pulls you closer, the warmth of his touch spreading through you. The other hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You pull away slightly, teasing, "You know you can't buy me a guitar every time you screw up, right?"

He chuckles. "Well, there's always drums, bass, and maybe even a tambourine," he says, leaning in for another kiss.

[fountainpenguin]

Upcoming Fanfic Preview - WordGirl

Obligatory "Doesn't have links so it will show up in tags" post

So here's a funny story! Back in 2018, I started a multi-chapter WordGirl 'fic about Kid Math adjusting to life on Earth and bouncing between foster families because he keeps blowing his secret identity and/or picking fights. It's called "Factor It In!"

The 'fic was shelved because of school, pandemic, and job, but I always wanted to bring it back. If you liked my "WordGirl and Kid Math show up at villain karaoke night" one-shot, "AlgoRhythm," you might like this sequel fic too.

Full cover image + links on my blog June 16th!

Chapter 1 goes live on FFN + AO3 on June 16th (FountainPenguin), plus I'll do my usual announcement post for blog followers. Enjoy! :'D

Factor It In - First 1,800 words under the cut!

---

Minor content warning for this snippet - Canon-typical implied backstory trauma (Potatoes, bruises, neglect).

---

FACTOR IT IN

Order of Operations

.:: January 3rd - Saturday ::.

"One must be taught his place if orderly structure is ever to be maintained."

(Ancient Hexagon proverb)

➕ ➖ ✖️ ➗

Psst! Look for the words independent and uneasy

---

It's a chilly winter afternoon in the home of Milo and Miah Pirakell, who have just received a familiar visitor on their doorstep…

HELP!

The word hovers like a sugar cube on the end of his tongue. H-E-L-P exclamation point exclamation point… Milo stands there, as frozen as the snowboy, snowgirl, and snowmonkey in the yard across the street, quietly goggling the woman waiting for him on the front step. She isn't very tall, though the high heels help a ton with that. She smiles back at him. It's a pretty smile, her lips a sparkly glossy pink. Is she as nervous as he is? She's rocking back and forth on her toes, and he can't help but follow every movement.

Sandy blonde-brown hair. She kept it tied back in a bun. Does he know her? She looks sort of familiar, but this silent revelation doesn't stop the panicked heartbeat bouncing up and down inside his chest.

Help…

Maybe he's seen her face smeared across the newspapers or thrown across the TV screens. Is he about to be robbed blind in his own home? Does this woman have some sort of knock-out gas in that briefcase? He tightens his fingers on the door frame, saying nothing, until his wife's careful, loving hands grip onto his shoulder and pull him aside. Like a slug, he oozes at her command.

"Clarissa!" Miah - his beautiful, smiling Miah - pushes the door a little more open. "Please come in. Milo, you remember Mrs. Argent, our case manager with the foster system."

Milo peers at the sandy-haired woman again. Clarissa Argent, our case manager with the foster system. Yes. Yes, he does know her, though he's grateful for the set-up. He's struggled with memory problems all his life and Miah always grants him context like this when introducing someone he might not recall. Name. Job title. Location. Easy peasy.

Yes. He remembers. Her name's been on the calendar since yesterday, and he's been counting his heartbeats all this time. Clarissa Argent has eyes as silver as her surname, and she smiles up at Milo and switches her briefcase to her left hand. She extends the right for a shake. Milo blinks back at her, then uses two fingers to carefully adjust his glasses on his nose.

Clarissa. Case manager. Foster care.

"Would you like to come in?" he asks. His voice trembles when he says it, but neither Clarissa nor Miah mind at all. He grasps Clarissa's hand and gives it a shake. Sweat drips down his palm and smears across the creases of her fingers. He winces, but Clarissa's smile never wavers.

"Thank you so much for letting me visit. I wanted to get right down to it."

"Have a cookie," Miah offers, waving her into the living room. Milo stands blankly by the door, watching them go, until Miah glances back at him and gently motions for him to shut it so the snowflakes stay firmly outdoors. Right. He pushes it shut and locks it out of habit. He always locks the door when he's inside. Fair City is teeming with wild villains who could snap a lock like this in seconds, but it eases the anxiety very, very faintly anyway. Milo keeps his forehead to the door for three seconds, clicking through his memories and trying to remember why they're meeting with Clarissa.

Something's wrong… Help, help…

The girls are already chatting in the living room. Miah just redecorated in October, freshening up the place with a much more modern look. Clarissa hasn't visited since last April, so she's astonished by the changes and has to comment on every one of them. They even replaced the bulging, waterstained wood with nicer carpet.

Help…

Why is she here? This breaks the routine. Milo curls his fingers against the white door, blinking over and over as the world sways beneath his feet. Usually when there's a kid who needs a place to crash for the weekend, they get phone calls. Half the time, they aren't even "real" foster kids- just kids who temporarily lost track of their parents in some sort of villainous mishap like a cheesy tidal wave, a thunderstorm of bread slices, or a giant robot crushing the subway lines.

He's been there. Milo remembers all too painfully the chaos of his own youth, stranded and shocked in the road in the middle of a rainstorm while his house crumbled beneath the weight of potatoes before his very eyes. He'd been home alone after school. He was only eight. He's held a lot of shivering kids in his lap, rocking them back and forth while they watch something happier on the TV than the news. Even if he's fidgety, desperate to stay up to date with this crazy world they live in, and he can't resist flipping through the channels once he's safe inside his own bedroom.

Help…

Clarissa's personal visit does not take his anxiety down. But she's here, with Miah, and there are chocolate chip cookies waiting in the other room. And somewhere out there, one file folder away, is a kid who needs more help than he does. Milo inhales through his nostrils, counts to six, and exhales between his teeth. Though still uneasy, he peels himself from the door and trudges down the hall to join the two women in the living room.

Okay.

You have to take a step down from the hardwood floor to venture into the new living room. Milo does so, keeping his hand braced on the short handrail as he moves. He blinks at the bright lights, blinks at the snowflakes twirling on the other side of the open blinds, and blinks at Miah as she scoots closer to the pillows to make room for him beside her on the gray couch. Pleasantries are exchanged. Small talk. Milo, fidgeting, zones out for part of it, until he hears Clarissa shift the topic to the kid in question.

"He does need a close eye on him. Someone experienced with home security, who won't let him jump down from second-story windows. That's why I wanted to ask you in person. He's a very sharp-minded boy, Mr. and Mrs. M. Pirakell. Very kindhearted too."

Milo glances at Miah. She glances right back at him. "But…?" she prompts the case worker.

"Just… extremely independent." Clarissa drums her fingers against the top of her briefcase. "He's a loner. Very detached in conversation, struggling to pick up on social cues. He shows very little interest in anything beyond math, science, and music. Oh, and cross stitch. We're worried that the neighborhood kids he's currently around are bullying him in secret. He keeps slipping out through the windows and coming home an hour later covered in bruises. We were hoping to place him in a home where we can trust he'll be closely supervised, and the Pirakells are always the first to come to mind."

Of course they are. It's who they are. It's what they do. Milo stares at his toes, his heart plummeting towards the floor, even as the Narrator lets out a soft, breathy sigh above him. It's relief and amusement and gratitude all rolled into one, though nobody acknowledges it and the Narrator says nothing else. Miah glances uncertainly at Milo, then carefully speaks on behalf of them both.

"Clarissa… is this kid charmed? Is that why you're here to visit us in person?"

Charmed.

Silence.

"Well, yes."

Help…

"Didn't…" Milo fiddles for a moment with his wedding ring. "Um, didn't we put in our file that we might not be a good fit for charmed children right now?"

Clarissa rocks back and forth in subtle hesitation. Her long fingernails, painted turquoise, tighten in the ruffles of her black skirt. We did, Milo reflects, but says nothing as Clarissa drops her gaze to the file in her lap again.

"I saw you made that request, but… we're still facing a shortage of families, especially with the holidays. He's really struggling to get along at the group home. The staff suspects he and one of the other boys got in a fight just yesterday. If you reject the placement then I'll understand, but I at least wanted to meet with you in person so we could discuss any questions openly and face to face. His status is a little odd."

Help, help…

Miah slips her hand in Milo's then, tightening her fingers around his own. And he's grounded for a moment, firmly planted on the soft gray couch. No one's wailing for him. There are no invisible children on the floor.

There are lots of things he should probably ask. If the kid has siblings who have also been pulled into foster care. If any extended family members are known. If the kid will be transferring schools. If there are special food needs to keep in mind. If he has any appointments with doctors, dentists, sports teams, or music recitals just around the corner. If he likes to walk. Milo does a lot of walking, though Miah prefers long drives along the coast. What's the child's cultural background? Did he have a nice holiday? Are there parental visitations planned? If he and Miah say yes, will the child arrive tonight, and if so, has he had a chaotic morning? All these questions are things he can, and should, probably ask first.

But he doesn't.

Because his heart is pounding and his fingers look like dancing worms.

"Well…" Milo draws in a long, careful breath. He slowly releases it again, lowering his chin to his chest along with it. It does help him focus, but it doesn't calm the rapid kicking in his heart. "Okay, then. If he's charmed, what, uh, range of powers does he have? L-let's put that in the open first, before we talk about anything else."

There. He feels guilty just for saying it. He can feel the Narrator's wispy silence like the breath of a ghost above his head. It makes the hairs behind his neck stand on end. Milo bites his lip, squeezing Miah's hand, and she squeezes back in gentle reassurance. Maybe it's not an unfair question. Even though it nibbles at his skin.

But it's important. It might make a difference. He can't do invisibility again. He can't.

The lines around Clarissa's eyes crinkle with relief. She pulls her briefcase on her lap and clicks it open. Idly, Milo glances at the numbers on the combination when she tilts back the lid. Then he hates himself. Clarissa picks up a manila file folder and passes it over to Miah. "Yes, we've been looking into that… He's been staying in the group home over the holidays. So many families are out of town right now. I promise, I wouldn't come to you about this if I felt there was anything extreme in his file. He only has two powers that we know of. His skin will rapidly repair any open wound… and he can fly."

[ Factor It In - Full Chapter 1 available @ FFN / AO3 on June 16th (FountainPenguin) ]

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

Check out a sneak peek up an upcoming installment of my Step-Dad series Bonus (featuring a very special sneak peek at Sofia, who has me wrapped around her finger just as much as her grandfather's).

After four years of university, three years of law school, six months of studying, a 7-hour long exam, and fifteen more agonizing minutes, Alma was finding out her Bar results today. She’d flown back home from Ontario the day after her exam, sleeping for about a week straight before beginning her anxious wait for her results. 

Their kitchen had smelled incredible the past week given the behemoth amount of stress baking she was doing, and Stede and Ed had started pawning off her baked goods to the neighbors, coworkers, anyone who would take them. They were drowning in banana breads and strawberry jams and while they loved her baking, it was getting overwhelming. This was one of her healthiest coping mechanisms so they were more than encouraging, although Ed had had to talk her down from cutting her own bangs about three nights ago. 

Their kitchen had also become a concert hall for Taylor Swift, whose never ending discography Alma still listened to religiously, blasting it at a volume that Ed was convinced was to prevent her from hearing her own thoughts. 

Today their kitchen was in a flurry of chaos as Alma managed to cram seven different baking pans into their oven while scream-singing 1989, checking her phone every three minutes for the time. 

Stede wasn’t helping any by asking her every time she checked her phone whether she’d heard back yet. 

Doug was trying to set up Louis on a facetime call, a seemingly easy task made all the more complicated by the shoddy service the kid had up in the Yukon right now. 

And Mary was currently running late, having missed her ferry over from the island. That last tidbit certainly wasn’t helping soothe Alma’s frayed nerves right now. 

Ed was mostly trying to stay out of the way, counting down the remaining fifteen minutes til the results were posted as patiently as he could. He had been occupying himself by entertaining Sofia, who was more than happy to bounce between all three of her grandfathers to keep her out from under her mother’s foot. But about twenty minutes ago she’d demanded that Ed pick her up, before promptly falling asleep in his arms. 

The music suddenly cut out. 

“Uh-oh.” Doug had tried to mutter it under his breath, tried to keep it to himself, but Stede and Alma’s bat hearing prevented that. 

“Why uh-oh?” They demanded in unison. 

Doug clicked the laptop a few times, Louis’ face frozen on the screen, then checked his phone, grimacing. “Looks like there’s an issue with the wifi. I’m going to need to reset the router.” 

Alma’s head dropped into her hands on the counter, screaming into her palm. Stede moved to show Doug where their wifi router was, which was of course on the second floor, leaving Edward alone with Alma in the now silent kitchen. 

Alma exhaled deeply, dragging her hands down her face. “I’m just gonna go lay down in the street if you need me.” 

Ed shot her a disapproving look. “Orange.” 

She rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Oh come on, I’m not allowed one joke right now?” 

“It’s not the one joke I’m worried about.” 

“Dad, seriously, it’s fine. I’m fine.” She licked the batter off of her spatula to demonstrate how fine she was, gesturing to her growing baking clutter. 

“What time does Eleanor’s flight get it?” He asked, tactfully changing the subject as he gently shifted Sophia on his hip, doing his best not to stir her from her napping. She snuggled her head deeper into the crook of his neck, letting out the smallest of sighs in her sleep as she did. 

“6 pm,” she answered, checking her phone again. Seven minutes. Her fiance was presenting at a conference in the States this weekend and wouldn’t be able to make it before the results came in. “She’s probably somewhere over Nebraska right now,” she groaned.

[bruhlsbees]

paradox burning - preview || ernst schmidt x fem!reader

summary: schmidt and reader share a tender moment during a checkup and reader processes the thoughts that plague her mind

pairing: ernst schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: soft moment shared between schmidt and reader, medical check up

word count: 1,176

a/n: i hope you all enjoy this upcoming fic!! i think schmidt is up there with favorite characters daniel has played so i'm excited to be writing this! :) similar to my other fic, garden of eden, this preview serves to establish the relationship before the first chapter - this does take place before the movie begins with them onboard the cloverfield station

“Your vitals seem to be stable, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary here.”

Closing your folder, you looked up once more at the screen in front of you, scanning over the lab results that came back for Schmidt before turning to him as he sat on the exam table. He seemed to be relieved to hear that - though he had no doubts about it. Tensions were already high on board the Cloverfield Station, the last thing anyone wanted to be told was that they were developing some sort of disease or had a broken bone.

Moving the stethoscope from around your neck, you placed the earpieces in your ears and picked up the resonator to place against his chest. Listening carefully at his heartbeat, you picked up no extra beats or unusual notes, nodding as you pulled the earpieces out and putting the stethoscope back around your neck.

“Everything seems to be in check with your cрце. I’ll be sure to let Commander Kiel know of your results. You’re free to go now.” You had expected him to leave just then, but he stayed, his head tilted to the side, a small smirk on his face.

“My what?” He asked, not knowing what you had said in Serbian. You realized it then and smiled, laughing lightly before motioning towards his heart, “Your heart.”

Catching your hand, Schmidt pulled it flat against his chest, above where his heart was. There was a smirk still on his face, waiting for your reaction. “Срце…” He repeated, his grip slipping down before his large hand wrapped around your delicate wrist. Schmidt enjoyed teasing you, watching you get red in the face as he tried to figure out what you were saying in your native tongue or just mess with the medical equipment that was laying out.

You hated to admit it, but you liked it when he teased you.

“For a German, your Serbian isn’t too bad.” You noted, your voice hushed as you felt your fingers curl around the fabric of his shirt that sat under his suit. Your eyes flickered up from your hand that was on his chest before up at him.

“I speak more than German.” You couldn’t help but let out a weak laugh, clearing your throat, “I never said that you didn’t. I was just stating the obvious.”

You watched as he moved your hand up to the side of his face, leaning into your touch. You bit down on your tongue, hard, to not make a squeak as the tension between the two of you began to fill the room.

“And what is this?” He questioned, his voice falling soft, his honey eyes staring up into your own.

“Лице…”

“Лице.” He moved your hand again, this time letting your fingers graze over his lips. You felt him just barely kiss them, his warm breath coaxing your skin.

“And this?” You noticed behind his glasses his pupils were blown, and his chest was beginning to heave slightly, as if this whole experience was getting him hot and bothered...little did you know though, it was.

“Усне.”

Before he could repeat you this time, you felt him move your hand away from his lips, pulling you closer to him, going to close the space between you. His eyes began to close, his lips parting when all of a sudden-

“Hey! How are the check-ups coming alo-”

In just milliseconds, you stumbled back, doing your best to not have obviously been mid-kiss before someone walked in on them. You cleared your throat and ignored as Schmidt tugged on the pants of his suit, adjusting his position on the exam table.

“Everything is going good, Acosta! Just finished up with Schmidt.”

Acosta didn’t seem to notice anything between the two of you, and if he did he chose to ignore it. He all but smiled, nodding at you before looking over at Schmidt, nodding once at him to acknowledge his presence in the room.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Good to see you Schmidt.”

With a weak smile, Schmidt nodded before standing up off the exam table, “If I’m good to go the-”

“Yes!” You interrupted, holding the folder tight in your hands, “Yes, I’ll give Commander Kiel your results and if anything changes I’ll be sure to let you know.”

You watched as Schmidt nodded, excusing himself from the room as both you and Acosta watched him leave. When Schmidt was gone and the door behind him ‘whooshed’ shut, Acosta turned and looked your way, a smirk on his face.

“And what was that about?” He asked, although it seemed he already knew the answer.

Feeling your neck grow hot, you shook your head, turning to place the file with the other completed check-ups, “Nothing,” You said casually, gathering up the files before glancing behind you at Acosta who was looking at you, a smirk on his face. Feeling your face grow hot now, you shook your head, “It was nothing!” You exclaimed, voice going high as you so desperately tried to deny what really had happened.

Acosta laughed, shaking his head before taking the files from you, “Okay...okay, I’ll take your word on it.” You dipped your head down, looking at your scuffed shoes, stumbling a bit to the side when you felt him suddenly nudge you.

“Come on, let’s go get dinner. I think you’ve deserved it after today.” Smiling, you nodded and walked beside him out of the medical room, out and into the common room where you’d join the others to eat.

Despite tensions being so high, it was nice to have moments like this where you could pretend that it was at least relatively normal. Forget that your jobs left you in a state that could either make or break the existence of Earth. Forget that you were getting nowhere with the project. Forget that you were down to enough fuel to make four more tests, before you indefinitely failed the sake of all humanity.

Was it good to pretend everything was okay around you? No, but if you didn’t, you’d be just like the others - constantly under stress and at each other’s throats. Some days it felt like you were the Cloverfield Station therapist, with all that you had to listen to. But you didn’t mind, it was nice to know that they trusted you to keep their worries and secrets locked up. However, it seemed that nobody ever seemed to return the favor to you, or ask if you were doing okay.

It would be nice, if someone asked you how you were holding up - then maybe they’d understand the battle that was going on in your head. How your head spun with violent thoughts and you went to bed crying and woke up already in tears.

You were dealing with too many wars - the one that plagued Earth, on the station, and in your mind. The thought that seemed to spiral in your head was when. When?

When would all this pain go away?

[jinnie-forthe-winnie]

Introducing Camp Bighit

This an announcement and preview to the upcoming series of Camp Councillor Taehyung. It will take place at a daycamp, and it a buisness week long! So it will be a 5 part series!!

Down below are the chapter names and a preview to each one:

oh and here are the trouble makers

Group 3 boys (7-8)

Beomgyu Choi

Hoseok Jung (goes by Hobi)

Jackson Wang

Jimin Park

Jungkook Jeon

Kai Kamal Huening (goes by Huening Kai)

Namjoon Kim

Seokjin Kim (goes by Jin)

Soobin Choi

Sun-woo Kim (goes by Sunoo)

Monday Funday

As the councillors were sitting eating their own snacks Sunoo came up to the table with a package of goldfish. He shyly walks up to Lily and hands her the pack.

"Oh my goodness is this for me?" she gasps.

"Nooooo!" Sunoo cries out, "it's mine!" he says pointing at his chest with his finger.

"But you gave it to me, it must be mine!" she says happily, making Sunoo laugh.

"I gave it to you for opening it," he says in a cute voice.

"So I don't get goldfish," she says pouting to him, again making the little boy laugh.

"I can give you one," he says, holding a singular finger up to her.

"That's okay I'll open it for you, and then you get them all '' she tells him, making him nod excitedly. She opens the package up easily and hands it into Sunoo's chubby little hand.

"Thank you Wily" he says, making Lily scrunch her face.

"He is too cute!" She gushes to Taehyung.

"I know, him and Jimin are so cute and have chubby cheeks and hands," he says gushing back to her.

"Gah I want one!" she says when she sees Jimin drinking his juicebox in peace.

"Me too!" he tells her, a big smile on his face as he looks at the adorable kids.

Trouble Tuesday

"They are just unbelievable," Taehyung says sighing as he watches Jin and Jungkook play fighting in the field.

"I don't know how they have so much energy at nine in the morning," she sighs.

"Should we break them up or just watch them?" He asks laughing as they watch Jungkook pin Jin down to the ground, the older one yelling about how it was unfair.

"Meh, I'm just gonna watch" she says shrugging.

"Okay, I'm going to go play with Soobin, Beomgyu, and Huening Kai," Taehyung says standing up from the stairs.

"Well then I guess I get to go play with the cuties," she says refering to Sunoo and Jimin. Taehyung holds a hand out for her and lets use it to stand up, her hand lingering for a moment before she walks away. Taehyung watches as she walks away, a small smile coming to his lips as he sees her starting to play with the young boys, an instant smile coming to all their faces.

(sorry this one was rushed but don't worry the chapter will be much better)

Wedding Wednesday

"Hey kids do you know the kissing tree song?" Maddy asks smugly making both Taehyung and Lily groan. A chorus of yeahs make her laugh and she begins to encourage them all to sing it.

"Lily and Taehyung sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes love, second come marriage, then comes a baby in a baby carriage." Maddy yells out happily along with the boys help. Lily keeps her head down and avoids looking at a smirking Maddy, and Taehyung and whatever facial expression he has on his face.

"Wait are they getting married?" Soobin calls out confused.

This makes Maddy burst out in laughter, "not yet, but soon buddy!"

After a while Maddy finally gets bored and leaves to go back to her group. Now that the boys chanting has stopped Lily finally feels safe to raise her head up to look a Taehyung.

The moment she does she regrets it, his eyes are already trained on her, a smile content smile on his lips. Her face reddens as she avoids eye contact shifting it to the boys who were stuffing their faces full of food.

Thursday Blues

"Nine! Whose missing!" Lily mutters to herself, her hands shaking in anxiousness. Hoping she missed counted she recounts twenty times before realizations hits her hard that one of the boys is missing.

"Boys were doing a role call okay," she doesn't even wait for thier responses before she starts going down the list. "Jin?"

"Yeah I'm here" he says goofily not understanding the heaviness of the situation.

"Jungkook?"

"Yahoo" he yells.

"Sunoo, oh please tell me Sunoo is here" she says the first part loudly but the rest is mumbles. She doesn't here him call making her believe it's him, but then she feels a hand tap her thigh. She looks down to see Sunoo looking up at her with a worried look. "Oh thank goodness, Jimin?"

A few seconds go by, no voice, no tap, no Jimin. Her throat feels like it constricts, breathing almost impossible. A sinking feeling fills her as she sees Taehyung walking up to the group with no Jimin.

Thank God It's Friday

Lily leads the group into the auditorium, rows of kids already sitting down waiting for the movie. She takes them to an empty row and tells them to find a spot and sit down. Once she counts to make sure they're all there she turns to see Taehyung waiting for her.

"Want to sit together?" he asks her.

"Yeah sure," she says following him as he takes a seat in the back row towards the corner. He lets her into the row, he takes the aisle seat for himself.

Not even two minutes later Beauty and The Beast starts playing on the big screen, the lights are flicked off. If everything goes according to his plan by the end of the movie there should be something there.

These won't be exactly as they are shown here, it is just a sneak peak :)

btw I didn't edit it so the grammar and spelling isn't what it should be... anyway hope you're excited

Taglist: @jiminie-and-his-pinky-finger @softbobamilktae @chai-fics

[deadlyanddelicate]

i was tagged by @deerlovelylily to do this like... 84 years ago aaa i’m sorry molly ilu!! thanks for the tag 💕

author name: starsandgutters (on ao3)

fandoms you write for: there’s been a few, but the only one i’m currently really active in is the raven cycle (and now the dreamer trilogy will be added to that, i suppose!); however, the fandom i have written the most (or longest) fics for remains supernatural

where you post: all my fic lives either on my ao3 or on the writing tag on my tumblr. i try to keep them both equally caught up, but sometimes with longer fic i will only post a preview on tumblr and the full text on ao3, or with short drabbles i may just keep them on my tumblr and not bother uploading them to ao3. consistency, eh? i also have a wordpress for poetry, but it doesn’t see much use.

most popular oneshot: mmm i basically only write oneshots, and i’m not sure what constitues “most popular”... if we base this on tumblr notes, my most popular fic is “ink riddles” [tumblr/ao3]; if we base it on ao3 kudos, it’s “the stars exploding (we’ll be fireproof)” [tumblr/ao3] for trc fandom, while my supernatural fic “five times castiel spoke to dean in a foreign language, and one time dean returned the favour” [tumblr/ao3] is my most kudos’d one overall. 

most popular multi-chapter story: the only multi/chapter story i’ve completed was my dean/castiel big bang, “to mend the cracks with gold” [tumblr/ao3]. i’m still quite fond of it as it’s the only novel-length thing i’ve written :’)

favourite story you wrote: mmh it IS probably going to be the abovementioned “the stars exploding (we’ll be fireproof)”, just because it includes some of my favourite things, aka: toga parties! comparing your loved ones to gods and mythological creatures! tad carruthers’ unrequited crush on adam! ronan loving horrifying baby animals! flirting on a balcony while yearning! me coming up with pre-trk theories and being clowned when maggie josses them!

story you were nervous to post: oh, definitely my latest one, “with quiet words i’ll lead you in” [tumblr/ao3]. i mean i’m always kinda nervous when i post something but with this one i knew it mattered, because it was one discussing ronan’s sexual assault and i wanted to handle it sensitively and respectfully, while still keeping it realistic for the characters’ personalities. i wrote it for myself first and foremost, but i hoped it would be helpful, rather than upsetting, for people who have gone through assault. 

how do you pick your titles: i’m going to be real honest -- unless i start from a specific titular concept (e.g. my supernatural big bang was always going to go with kintsugi/kintsukuroi), or sudden inspiration stirkes, it IS going to be a song lyric. i’m just a lyric hoe like that (and i’m bad at coming up with titles).

do you outline: i usually write myself notes in the doc itself, such as [then this happens] or [fill this part in with character X freaking out], so i can go back to them as inspiration comes and goes, but as i mostly write oneshots i don’t usually need elaborate outlines.

how many of your stories are complete: as i mostly write oneshots... basically all of them except for 3 attempts at multi/chapter fic (as i said before... my only completed multichapter was the deancas big bang, so i should probably stick to shorter pieces. :’) there’s one in glee fandom, “running the banner down”, which i can confidently say will never be finished for several reasons; one in supernatural fandom, “red sun rising”, which... i still love the concept for, but it was based on demon!dean and that lasted about 3 episodes on supernatural, so no point finishing that unless i go full canon divergence; and a trc au called “sound the alarm”, which... i actually may finish someday. all of these can be found on my ao3, but obviously, they’re extremely incomplete.

in-progress: i suppose the only one that counts as “in progress” is “sound the alarm”, but it’s more in arrested development than actual progress (heh). i have 2 or 3 ideas for oneshots that i want to write, but i haven’t started writing them yet, so again, they’re not really in progress.

coming soon: as i mentioned before, there are a few things i want to write -- the missing scene from the first time ronan visited adam in college, a flashback fic of persephone teaching adam, and a fic exploring blue/adam going from dating to friendship. i also have some very nebulous cdth-related ideas (which i won’t mention because, well, spoilers). plus, i still owe @deerlovelylily dreamspace date fic! SOMEDAY molly, i swear D:

do you accept prompts: i do!! as long as there is the understanding that sending a prompt does not guarantee me writing the fic (because time, energy, mindspace, inspiration...)

upcoming story you’re most excited about: all of them are in way too early stages for me to significantly get excited, but... probably the missing scene fic and the cdth-related ideas? i’m just in a very dreamer trilogy adjacent mood lately, for obvious reasons, lol.

tag five fanfic authors to answer these questions: ahhh i suspect most of my writer friends have already done this but... just in case @harvardparrish @ravenqueen89 @silkspectred @mishcollin @bleachersmp3 ?? if you’ve already done it (or even if you haven’t) there is no obligation! conversely, @ anyone who would like to do this, pls feel free, and tag me so i can read!! 💖

[fucking-zawa-sensei]

Don’t Kid Yourself: Chapter 4 - I Take It All Back

Pairing: Erasermic – Shouta Aizawa|Eraserhead/Hizashi Yamada|Present Mic

Categories:  pining, unrequited love, slow burn, angst, very very slow burn

Word Count: 5,000+

Summary: The repercussions from their conversation in the car follows Aizawa and Yamada throughout the rest of their week. Something makes Yamada distant and Aizawa tries to ask questions without breaking boundaries. 

Notes: Chapter 5, the one after this, will be the last angst heavy chapter of this fic (there will be some sprinkled in here and there, but nothing like the past few). It will focus on Yamada’s POV for the days and events covered in the below chapter. This is why he is intentionally vague here. Everything will be answered in chapter 5. I am trying to get the ball rolling so I can stop torturing you in a couple chapters. I wanted this fic to feel genuine and true to life, so there is quite the slow build, but it will have erasermic eventually. Thanks for reading! 

The previous chapter took place on Wednesday. I noticed my timeline might be a little confusing, so here’s the rundown: Monday - Ice cream date Tuesday - Yamada doesn’t talk to Aizawa Wednesday - Yamada doesn’t talk to Aizawa until after class in the car (I’m counting the “day time” portion of Wednesday as one of the two days Yamada gives him the silent treatment). This chapter starts Wednesday night. Aizawa POV.

Read it on AO3 here

Other Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Chapter 4: I Take It All Back

Wednesday Night.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

Aizawa’s phone shuffles a bit across the wooden top of his bedside table. He’s laid out on his stomach atop his bed covers, pillow comfortably stuffed under his upper chest, reading a book.

Bzzt. Bzzt.

He reaches over to pick up the phone and check who’s messaging him, but the display just shows an unknown number. He unlocks the screen and looks at the anonymous messages.

“Hey did something happen to Hizashi? He seems down.”

“This is Haru, btw. Sorry, he gave me your number a while back just in case!”

“In case of what?” Aizawa mumbles, closing his eyes and rubbing the bridge of his nose.

With a groan, he types back, “We just had a talk, it’s fine.”

Imai’s response time is either impeccable, or he already had a pretty good idea of what was going on, because his reply comes only seconds later.

“About me?”

“No.”

“You, then? You and him?”

Aizawa shuts his book and places it on the nightstand. How much does Imai know about what happened between Hizashi and me? Aizawa thinks, trying to figure out how best to respond.

“Yeah,” is the simple message he shoots back, rolling over to face the ceiling and wait for what he knows will be just another incredibly awkward conversation. At this point, Aizawa’s beginning to feel like that’s all the talking he’s capable of doing anymore. That and exasperatedly begging teenagers to not get themselves killed for just one week.

His phone vibrates again where he has it resting between his hand and his chest. He lifts it up to see what Imai has to say.

“Why is he so sad?” Aizawa’s eyebrows raise a bit in surprise. I thought for sure he’d go straight to digging about our relationship.

“Beats me,” Aizawa replies.

“Come on, that can’t be true. I’m worried about him.”

Aizawa hesitates to respond, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. He didn’t particularly want to rehash their whole conversation to Imai.

“Why don’t you just ask him?” he asks. Surely, the dream team was capable of communicating.

“I tried, he doesn’t want to talk.”

Aizawa frowns. Interesting.

“Then wait until he does, it’s not my place to say if he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Aizawa waits for a response, but it seems Imai has accepted his reasoning, falling silent. Aizawa closes down his messaging app and taps his gallery open, then his downloads folder, before opening up the orange kitten in the lion’s mane costume Yamada had sent him a few days ago to cheer him up. Aizawa smiles at the picture, honestly, it was cute.

He rolls back over to his stomach, grabbing his book again, but stops before flipping back to the page he’d been on. Picking up his phone, he copies the little kitten picture into a new message to Yamada and sends it off.

Aizawa doesn’t get another message until he’s 3 and a quarter more chapters into the book and his eyes are getting a little drier than normal. He’s considering just calling it a night, but he kind of wants to finish this chapter. He’s rubbing at his right eye when his phone vibrates and lights up on the pillow next to him.

He looks at the screen and sees this time it says “Hizashi” on the preview with a little unread envelope and 2 new messages next to it.

“Thanks! :D”

I thought you were supposed to be sad.

The other message is another picture. This time of a fluffy yellow duckling cuddled up with a sleeping black cat. Aizawa saves the attachment.

“Cute.” is all he texts back, a small smile starting on his face. He shakes it off. This feels too weird. He’s just pretending it’s okay again.

Yamada sends another picture of someone poking the tiny toe beans of a tabby cat.

“I want a cat! :(“ comes Yamada’s follow up text. Aizawa starts typing out a message about how he can just come play with his cat, Mai, but thinks better of it and deletes the whole thing. If Yamada’s really feeling better, he should be talking to Imai, not him.

“Get one then, you’re an adult.”

“Come with me to a shelter sometime?”

Aizawa would love to go to a shelter and help Yamada find a cat. He can’t think of something better than being surrounded by adorable adoptable cats and watching Yamada grin and melt as he plays with all of them, but adopting a cat seems an awful lot like something people should do with their partners. Especially when they live with them.  

“Shouldn’t you pick one out with Imai?”

Aizawa has to wait several minutes before Yamada finally answers.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“He texted me, you know.” Aizawa isn’t really sure he should be calling Imai out, but it’s not like they talked about anything secret.

“What?! Really?!” comes Yamada’s first message, quickly followed by another.

“Shouta, I’m so sorry, and after I said I’d tone it down…”

“I told you that you don’t need to do that,” Aizawa rolls his eyes. He did not want to rehash their fight on a platform he’d actively have to delete it from. It was hard enough trying to get it out of his mind. Aizawa looks back down to his book, still not finished with the chapter. I should have just said he could come play with Mai and left it alone.

“I know. Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Aizawa sends.

“What did he want?”

“He wanted to know what was wrong with you.”

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s it? Aizawa thinks. Guess that answers my question. He didn’t talk to him. Then why is he acting better?

Aizawa glances at the clock, which reads 11:17 PM. He doesn’t usually go to bed this early, but he also doesn’t usually have this much free time to go to bed this early. He might as well take it. He’d been the one to help Yamada for most of his life, but now he had someone else, so Aizawa decides gently pushing him into talking to his partner is probably for the best.

“I’m going to bed, see you tomorrow.” He types out and sends to Yamada. It’s met with a picture of a cat wearing a nightcap and tucked into a tiny bed.

“Sleep well, Shouta.” A little red heart and a microphone emoji is sent with the final message. Love, Mic. Yamada had been ending any conversations that led into either of them going to bed like that for many years. It had been a few months since Aizawa had bowed out of a conversation for rest, though. He almost considers opening up his own emojis to see if there’s an eraser, but decides to let it go. He sets his phone on the nightstand, along with his sadly unfinished book, and turns off the light.

---

Thursday.

Aizawa doesn’t see Yamada at work the next day. He knows the voice hero is in the school, though, because the kids are all still going to English class and leaving without any gossip or questions floating around the halls. There’s even a stack of graded pop quizzes on his desk in the staff room when he stops there to eat lunch. They’re English quizzes, which honestly could be the work of a substitute, but the grades all have accompanying smiling, frowning, or halfway between faces doodled beside them. There’s even one that looks like it’s puking. They might as well be signed, “Graded by Mic.”

Aizawa glances around the staff room. Midnight and Cementoss are the only other two in the room. Kayama glances up from her lunch.

“What’s bugging you?” she asks.

“Where’s Mic?”

She shrugs, looking back down at her food. “He was here earlier.”

“Where is he now?”

She looks up at him, raising one eyebrow. “Why are you so worried about where he is?”

Aizawa gives her the best bored expression he can manage. “It’s unusual that he’s not here.”

“Maybe he’s at lunch with Haru,” she says, but it’s not malicious. She’s frowning, eyes downcast. Kayama had been half the reason Aizawa had enough guts to finally confess to Yamada. Aizawa knew she’d felt a great deal of guilt when he’d gone to her apartment that night he’d confessed, shaking with anger and hurt. He’s not resentful and had expressed that a number of times. In the end, it had been his decision, but Kayama had always been rather outspoken about her feelings. The whole event had put a strain on her as well.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Aizawa pulls out his chair and moves the stack of quizzes over to the side. They all eat in silence.

Aizawa doesn’t run into Yamada at all the rest of the day.

---

The next day is Friday, and it starts much the same as the previous. No signs of Yamada.

Again, he knows he’s here somewhere. He’d casually asked the students if they were prepared for all of their upcoming assignments or if they needed a study period, fishing for information, and was readily obliged by Iida. The boy gave an emphatic run down of their upcoming tests and projects, including a presentation in Yamada’s class today, which some of the students were more than a little panicked about if the way they nervously played with their pencils and looked down at their desks was any indication.

He’d decided to have mercy on them and allow them to use the homeroom period to practice their presentations on each other. He was a little surprised to find most of the class wasn’t actually too bad at English. Yaoyorozu was perhaps a little over prepared, but Jirou’s English could rival Yamada’s, sounding conversational and flowing well. Aizawa wondered if it had to do with the music they both listened to. He’d seen her in the dorms wearing t-shirts of American bands that he knew Yamada also owned merch for.

After the free period, he walked out to give the classroom over to Midnight, but rather than stroll in with her confident walk as usual, she grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side.

“He’s in the computer lab right now,” she whispered in his ear, then pushed him gently in the direction of that room. Before he could say anything, she was giving the class a cheery “Good morning!” and closing the door.

Now, Aizawa finds himself walking to the computer lab. He wasn’t sure why he really needed to see Yamada. They had nothing to talk about. Space was probably a good thing after the discussion they had in the car, but he kept thinking back to how Imai had seemed so worried, and the way Yamada had cried not once, but twice during their conversation. Aizawa knew why he was suffering, and knew the whole situation wasn’t easy on Yamada either, but he didn’t think Yamada would be this affected by it.

He slides the door to the lab open and finds it empty. He’s not really surprised. There are computers in the staff room, and the students are all in class now, so unless there is an in-class project calling for computers, they’re usually empty before the kids start filing in after class is over to type up papers and work on assignments. Aizawa turns around to leave, but spots a little tuft of blonde hair poking around the side of a desktop monitor a few rows back.

He approaches quietly, slowly. A few more steps down the aisle and he can see Yamada’s got his head resting on his arms atop the table, keyboard shoved to the side.

Is he sleeping? Here? Aizawa thinks. He’s usually the only one doing that.

He reaches out to tap Yamada’s shoulder pad and the blonde immediately raises his head. Not sleeping, then.

Yamada turns around to see who tapped him and his eyebrows shoot up a little when he sees Aizawa.

“Ah! Hey!” he says, straightening up in his chair. The leather on his arms makes a peeling noise as he moves. He’s been lying here a while, Aizawa thinks.

“What are you doing here?” Aizawa asks, looking at the blank computer screen. The little power light isn’t even blinking, which means it’s not asleep, rather, it was never turned on.

Yamada also looks at the screen, then back at Aizawa, scratching his chin a little.

“Uh? Contemplating the universe and life as we know it?”

“Ambitious.”

“You know me! A real go-getter! That’s what my mom always said!” Yamada jokes, pointing at himself with his thumbs.

Aizawa smiles a bit, then pulls out the chair next to Yamada to sit down. Yamada’s hands drop.

“What’s wrong?” Aizawa asks. Yamada sighs.

“That obvious?”

“You’ve been purposely avoiding me for almost two days and now you’re ‘contemplating life’ in the computer lab.”

Yamada smooths out his mustache and then readjusts his headphones a bit.

“Haru and I had a fight that night I was texting you.”

After? It seemed too late for them to fight after he’d said goodnight. Before, then...but he seemed happier than when we were talking in the car, not worse.

“And?” Aizawa asks.

“And I didn’t think it would be appropriate for me to talk to you about it,” Yamada shrugs, “so I ran, I guess.”

“You didn’t get very far…” Aizawa says, “Hizashi, I told you-”

“Not to pretend he doesn’t exist. Not to hide my feelings, yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.” Yamada waves him off.

Aizawa frowns. Short fuse today.

“You’re giving me a lot of mixed rules here, Shouta. You don’t want to hear about cute stuff we do together, but you want to hear about the bad stuff?”

It doesn’t feel like a particularly fair way to word it, but he’s not wrong. Aizawa feels kind of guilty.

“I don’t know…” he answers, trailing off.

Yamada bites his bottom lip.

“I don’t want to talk about it either way,” Yamada says.

“Okay.”

 “I know you said no about the shelter, but do you want to go to the cat cafe today instead?” Yamada asks. His voice is quiet, hesitant. Aizawa’s not sure why he’s asking that on a Friday, though. Yamada has his radio show and Aizawa is going on patrol. This happens every Friday, without exception.

“Hizashi, do you know what day it is?”

“Of course! It’s-” Yamada’s face very quickly goes from indignant to embarrassed, “it’s Friday…:

Aizawa nods.

“Saturday, then?” Yamada asks, hopeful.

Aizawa kind of feels like they could use some space after everything that’s happened this week, but Yamada seems determined to make plans together.

“Sure, Saturday. Not too early, though.”

“No, of course not. Like, 3?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Great, I’m looking forward to it,” Yamada says, pushing away from the table to stand up.

Aizawa grabs the sleeve of his jacket.

“Hizashi...I know what I said in the car...but things got pretty heated. I don’t want you to think you have to hold everything in just to spare my feelings. You’re right, I didn’t really want to hear about dates you went on with Imai or things he did that you thought were cute, but if not hearing those things means I don’t hear from you...I’d much rather put up with it.” Aizawa looks up at Yamada, whose mouth is open just a tiny bit, eyebrows pulled together. “If you’re upset, you can talk to me about it. I’ll try to be unbiased.”

Yamada nods slowly, smiles.

“Thanks, Sho,” he says, patting the back of Aizawa’s hand with the hand that’s not being restrained by his grip. Aizawa lets go.

“I…” Yamada hesitates, “I’m not really sure I want to talk about it right now.”

Aizawa nods, getting out of his chair to follow Yamada out. Just as the blonde is about to step into the hall, Aizawa pulls on the back of his leather jacket’s high collar. Yamada jerks to a stop.

“Hey! What was that for?” he asks, turning around. Aizawa points up to Yamada’s tower of hair.

“You’ve got a piece falling down,” he says.

Yamada looks up as if he’s going to be able to see the mountain of hair atop his head.

“Where? Can you fix it?” he asks, turning like a dog looking for its tail.

“Yeah, hold still!” Aizawa says, grabbing his shoulder pads on one of the rotations. He reaches his hand up to smooth out the loose strands. They stick easily to the rest of their gelled up brethren. Yamada runs his hand over the spot Aizawa just touched, making sure it’s indeed intact.

“Thanks,” he says. “What would I do without you?”

“Mhm.” Aizawa hums, moving past him to leave the lab.

---

Saturday.

Aizawa’s alarm goes off at 12 PM and despite a full 8 hours, he still feels like he could sleep for 20 more. He hadn’t gotten back from patrol until 4:17 AM last night after some trouble with a gang of small villians who made friends with a troublesome girl who could control the wind. He still kind of felt like his ear drums were being buffeted with hurricane gusts. Aizawa slaps his hand down on the alarm to silence it and rolls over onto his back, rubbing at his eyes, then his temples, then just dragging his hands up and down his entire face.

Maybe I should just cancel plans with Hizashi.

As if summoned, his phone vibrates on the nightstand. Aizawa blearily reaches for it. The light blinds him for a couple seconds as his eyes adjust.

“Excited for the kitties? I am!”

Aizawa knows this is Yamada’s subtle reminder that he should get up. He rolls over to look for Mai, who he knows will be on the bed somewhere. He finds her curled up near his feet. He snaps a picture of her and sends it as his response.

“Perfect princess.” Yamada responds. A moment later, Aizawa gets another text.

“I’ll drive!”

Aizawa makes a face. He doesn’t have a car, which both Yamada and him know, but Yamada shares his with Imai, who typically uses it during the weekends to drive one town over for his production job. They’d been doing onsite shoots for some TV show for the past few months. While he worked in their town during the week, taking the train, Yamada always gave over his car for the long commute on the weekends.

“Is Imai done with that location shoot?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Yamada replies, a thumbs up emoji accompanying it.

Deciding it’s not worth his effort, Aizawa gets out of bed to go shower and get dressed. He chooses some simple dark wash jeans and a black sweater for the day and lays them out on his bed.

---

Aizawa is lounging on his couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, waiting for Yamada. He glances at his phone again. The display reads 3:16 PM. He considers asking Yamada why he’s late, but figures if he’s in traffic, he doesn’t want to distract him.

He gets up to go get the book he’d been reading from his bedroom, making it halfway down the hall when his phone rings. He slips it out of his pocket.

“Hizashi?” he questions, staring at a picture of Yamada with his hair in a half-bun and a surprised smile spread across his lips as he claps his hands together in happiness. Aizawa had taken the candid photo a few years ago when they’d gone to a new specialty coffee shop for the blonde’s birthday. Aizawa had requested the barista draw a microphone surrounded by hearts and the words “Happy Birthday” into his latte.

He slides the answer button across the screen and holds it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I’m so sorry!” Yamada’s words come out fast and loud.

“It’s fine, traffic is usually bad on Saturdays.”

“No, uh...I haven’t left yet.”

“Oh,” Aizawa responds, leaning against the wall. He hears Yamada sigh and some rustling on the other end. “Do you want me to just meet you there? I can take the train.”

“No. Shouta, I’m sorry,” Yamada says. Aizawa wants to tell him he’s getting really sick of apologies.

“You can’t come?”

“No…”

“Why?”

“Something came up-”

“No, Hizashi. Why?” Aizawa cuts him off.

There’s a long pause. Aizawa can hear Yamada breathing, then a thud that sounds distinctly like something hitting a wall.

“Haru.”

“What’s wrong with Imai?”

“Shit, Shouta.” Yamada hisses. Aizawa frowns. Yamada’s voice sounds desperate. “I...no. Let’s go to the cafe. I’m sorry, let’s go.”

“Hizashi.”

“Please,” Yamada begs. Aizawa’s chest feels tight. How could he say no to that?

“Fine, but let’s just meet there.” Aizawa suggests, not really interested in the forced privacy that comes with being in a car.

“Okay, I’m headed out now. I should be able to make the train at 3:30.”

“See you there,” Aizawa says, hanging up.

He stares down at his phone for a while. Aizawa drops his head back against the wall. It makes an alarmingly similar sound to the one he’d heard coming from Yamada’s side of the conversation. Aizawa feels like he’s back fighting the wind villain again. Yamada’s emotional state seemed to be changing by the second for the entire week. Aizawa couldn’t keep up.

Still, he’d try.

----

Yamada took a different train line than he did, so they didn’t bump into each other at the station. As Aizawa turns around the corner, he seems him leaning against the side of the cafe’s building, one leg propped up. He’s got his hair completely down, not even in a bun or braid. He’s wearing his clear glasses, some boots and tight, ripped black pants, and a simple maroon pullover with some band logo on it. His hands are stuffed in the front pocket and he’s staring at the ground. All and all, for Yamada, he’s unusually dressed down.

Aizawa crosses the street. He thinks about making his approach purposely loud to break Yamada’s attention away from the sidewalk and give the man enough time to put his fake smile on. It proves unnecessary. Yamada pulls his gaze away from the ground and does a quick look around his surroundings on his own.

“Hey!” Yamada calls, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket to wave at Aizawa. Aizawa nods at him.

“Hi.”

“Let’s go,” Yamada says, pushing the door to the cafe open before Aizawa gets within even four feet of Yamada. The blonde has to awkwardly hold the door until Aizawa reaches it, unwilling to pick up his pace.

Aizawa hands his punch card over to the hostess and waits for Yamada to fish his out of his overstuffed wallet. Aizawa notices the way his hands shake a bit as he hands it over to the woman.

A little calico cat rubs up against his leg and he bends down to pet its head. The cafe is mostly empty, just a few groups of people here and there, waving wand toys, or reading a book with a cat in their lap. The cafe is busier during the lunch hours than this weird half-afternoon, half-evening time they’ve chosen to come.

Yamada comes up beside him and coos at the calico, giving it a long stroke down its back and over its tail. They both straighten up and Yamada points toward a little alcove with colorful pastel pillows piled for sitting. It’s pretty far away from the few other people. Aizawa nods and follows Yamada’s lead, the little calico trailing behind them.

When they reach the alcove, Yamada flops onto the plush pile. Aizawa sits down more slowly beside him. He sits with his legs crossed and the calico steps in, circling twice, then curling up in his lap. He runs his hand down its back and scratches behind its ears. Aizawa looks over to see Yamada is stretched back on the pillows, arms lazily lying across his stomach, head tilted back. His long hair is everywhere and his eyes are closed.

They sit like that for a long while, the only sound the small purring coming from Aizawa’s lap. Aizawa thinks Yamada might just fall asleep here, but abruptly, he breaks the silence.

“We broke up,” Yamada says.

Aizawa’s hand pauses. The cat lets out a small unhappy meow. Question after question start immediately pouring into Aizawa’s head. There are too many to pick just one. He can’t figure out how to make his mouth move. How do words work, again?

“Uh,” is somehow all he manages to get out.

“Uh?” Yamada questions.

“What?” Aizawa asks, looking at Yamada. His eyes are still closed and his face is still pointed up towards the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” the blonde runs his hand roughly through his hair, making more of a mess of it.

Yamada laughs. Aizawa lifts his hand off the cat, afraid he’s just going to end up crushing it with the way his body is starting to lock up.

“I kind of thought you’d be happy...or something,” Yamada whispers.

Anger is starting to feel like a constant in Aizawa’s life.

“Happy?” he says, his voice rough and accusatory. “I’m not a dick, Hizashi. You just ended a two year long relationship. That’s a lot to deal with.”

“Yeah…” Yamada responds, finally opening his eyes. His head tilts slightly in Aizawa’s direction. He looks like he’s squinting, with how little effort he’s put into actually lifting his eyelids. His mouth is just a straight line. Aizawa stares at his unmoving lips.

“I’m not that desperate,” close though, Aizawa thinks, then continues, “I’m not going to just start trying to woo you.” Who says that would even ever work…

“Yeah, no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thought that. I didn’t really...I...yeah…” Yamada rambles quietly, pulling a strand of hair through his hand over and over again.

Aizawa hesitates to ask it, but he really wants to know.

“Can I ask...why?”

“Why?”

“Why did you break up?” Aizawa rubs the back of his neck, feeling a bit uneasy, and like he’s pushing too far. Best friend or not, people had their boundaries. “You seemed perfectly happy before we got ice cream.”

“Oh...yeah. I don’t really know that I’m ready to talk about all the details...I just have a lot of things I have to sort through right now.” Yamada releases a big sigh. He slinks down further into the surrounding pillows. His green eyes shift away from Aizawa to look at the cat in his lap instead. “Haru...Haru was wonderful. I loved him, really, I did, but...something has been bugging me for a while now, even before we got ice cream. I think our fight in the car just...I don’t know...triggered something. Sometimes things felt perfect and sometimes...they just weren’t. Haru and I had a talk that night, and the next one, and the next one, and today…we’ve been talking for a while now. Before this week. Before this month...we’ve been talking and fixing and trying and...” Yamada trails off. Aizawa lets him take a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I’m just done talking, Shouta. I’ve got a big mouth, you know?” Yamada chuckles at his self-deprecating joke. Nothing Yamada just said settles well in Aizawa’s stomach.

“When you’re ready to talk, I’m here. I won’t tell you to shut up or anything. You can talk my ear off,” Aizawa offers.

“Of course I can…” Yamada says. Aizawa can’t ignore the way his lips almost look like they’re on the brink of a scowl.

“What?”

Yamada moves suddenly, rolling over, giving Aizawa his back to stare at. Aizawa watches one of his hands come up and over his side, tightly gripping his sweatshirt. Aizawa realizes he’s hugging himself.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Hizashi…” Aizawa starts, “Did you break up because of our conversation in the car?”

“Not...really. It was more than that. Like I said, this has been going on for a while.”

“But you seemed happy. Everything you said implied you meant to spend more time together...you said you wanted me to like him, you wanted to talk about him, you-”

“Shouta.” Yamada stops him, tone grave. “I never said I was the one who did the breaking up.”

Oh...

Oh...

Oh.

Aizawa looks down at the cat, now sleeping happily in his lap.

He hears Yamada shift next to him.

“So...Sho,” he says. When Aizawa looks back, Yamada has turned around and is propped up on his elbows. The voice hero has an uncharacteristic pink hue spreading across his cheeks and nose. “I...uh. I lived with Haru.”

“Yeah…” Aizawa responds, not quite getting the point of bringing it up.

Yamada pulls at a loose string sticking out of one of the pillows.

“I gave up my apartment last year.”

“Yeah?”

Yamada pouts.

“So I don’t have anywhere to go.” he grits out, turning fully to face Aizawa now. He crosses his arms.

Oh.

“You want to stay with me?” It’s not an offer and he sees in the way Yamada glances away that he knows too. Living together would be weird. It’s too soon. There’s too much happening right now. Sure, they’d spent nights and weeks and even months at each other’s places before, just to hang out, to work on a case together, because one or the other was closer to a villain they were tracking, or their apartment needed repairs.

That was all before Imai.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Aizawa says.

Yamada nods slowly, a small, sad smile on his face as his eyes fall shut. Yamada flops back down onto the pillow pile, turning a little bit to lean into them. He spends a long time breathing into the pillows. Aizawa pets the cat again, giving him time.

“Where will you go?” Aizawa asks.

Yamada shakes his head.

Too soon.

Aizawa pets the cat some more and waits.

“Do you think Nemuri would let me stay with her?” Yamada asks after some time, voice quiet.

“Why not?”

“You know why not.”

“Hey,” Aizawa says, giving Yamada a hard stare, but the blonde is still focused only on the pillows. “Look at me. Hizashi. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Yamada raises his head and looks at him.

“It is not your fault you loved someone else.” Aizawa says, then, “No, listen to me. No,” as Yamada’s mouth pops open, prepared for a rebuttal. “I can’t help that I love you and you can’t help that you love Imai. We don’t get to decide that. Nemuri is not holding that against you. You’re being irrational right now because you’re feeling vulnerable and upset…” Aizawa thinks about the way he was convinced Yamada was never going to speak to him again after he’d been rejected. Pain makes people crazy.

“You know she’s still your friend, you know that,” Aizawa insists. “She came up to you this week to tell you about some book she thought you’d like. You think enemies recommend best sellers to each other?”

Yamada shakes his head, laughing a bit. “No, I guess not.”

The blonde scoots over, closer to Aizawa, and reaches into his lap to scratch the calico behind its ears. It starts purring again. Yamada pulls himself in further, resting his cheek against Aizawa’s knee.

Aizawa tries to ignore the way his heart just went from calm to crazy in .02 seconds. Shit.

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

He might have acted all high and mighty, saying he wasn’t going to woo Yamada now that his relationship was over, but he was kidding himself if he thought his feelings for him weren’t going to get worse now that Yamada was technically available.

He’s upset, you idiot. He needs time. Besides, he never said he was interested.

Aizawa shakes his head a bit. Yamada looks up at him briefly, then back to the cat. Aizawa promises himself he’s not going to think about Yamada like that. He promises himself he will be a supportive friend, helping Yamada through this. He will wait. He will be understanding. He will listen to Yamada if he’s upset. He will let him take as much time has he needs to feel stable again.

He will. 

Then, when that’s over...maybe…

Maybe…

Aizawa’s knee feels cold and a little damp. He looks down and sees Yamada’s eyes are closed, but he’s crying. Silent, constant tears sliding down over his cheeks and down his neck, marking his hoodie with little wet spots. The other side of his face is still pressed into Aizawa’s knee, all the tears soaking into the fabric before they really get much of anywhere.

Aizawa clenches his jaw. He hates himself for thinking about a future with Yamada right now, no matter how many months or years off his fantasy might have been from this moment.

He’s crying and heartbroken and I’m selfish.

Give him time, Shouta, give him time.

[bruhlsbees]

garden of eden - preview || alex kerner x fem!reader

summary: alex kerner loses a bet to reader and reader thinks on her relationship with alex

pairing: alex kerner x fem!reader

warnings: cute moments between alex and reader, feet - not sexual,

word count: 1,649

a/n: this is the preview for my upcoming alex kerner fic, garden of eden! i hope you enjoy it and the fic! :) i will have chapter one posted sometime on tuesday!!

if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic (or any fic) please send me a message with what account to tag and what fic you'd like to be tagged to!!

You had been gnawing away on the cherry stem for ten minutes now - twisting, tugging, and biting down to form a knot. Sucking on the stem, moving your tongue around in your mouth to guide the stem in between your teeth to loop, when you finally felt the loop be made, you shot up from the couch, letting out an excited screech before clapping, pulling your fingers to your mouth before pulling out the saliva coaxed cherry stem, shuffling in your spot with a cheesy happy dance, turning towards the couch that you had jumped up from.

“Cough it up, Kerner. I told you that I could do it!” You extended your hand out to your best friend, Alex Kerner, a proud smile on your face as you still held the cherry stem knot in between your fingers.

For the past half an hour, after watching an obscene clip on the television of some girl tying a cherry knot in her mouth, with just her mouth, you and Alex began to have a heated argument as to whether or not someone could tie a cherry stem into a knot, or if it was all a joke. When the two of you finally decided to try it, you rushed to your fridge and pulled out some cherries from the bag, pulling the stems before heading back to the couch. It took you ten painful minutes before you finally got the knot.

With a groan, Alex fell back into the couch, still chewing on his own cherry stem before shaking his head, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet and a crinkled five deutsche mark. When he begrudgingly began to hand the bill towards you, you went to snatch it, missing as he dropped his hand suddenly, causing you to stumble forward, a gasp escaping from your lips.

“No fair! Come on, Alex! I won that fair and square!” You launched forward, making another poor attempt to get your winnings before feeling him grab you by the waist, throwing you back on the couch beside him. With a laugh, Alex grinned cheekily, putting his sock-clad foot against your stomach to prevent you from trying to lunge at him again.

At first you were no match to his large foot, the weight pinning you just right into your couch that prevented you from moving. When you grabbed his ankle, trying to move his foot off of you, you only managed to slip it up, his foot connected the side of your face, “Oh, Alex! Get your foot off of me! God, it smells!”

Watching as you squirmed under his foot, Alex erupted in a string of laughs, holding his stomach as you swatted his foot away, “Well why did you put it there if you didn’t want it there?”

“I’m going to kill you! I’m seriously going to kill you.” Moving your face into his foot, you groaned before opening your mouth to bite the side of it, feeling him quickly rip his foot away from your mouth and off you, giving you the chance to make an attempt to get the money again. Pushing yourself up from the sinking cushions, you jumped forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and dragging him, literally, onto the floor with you, landing on him before pinning him down, snatching the bill from his hand.

Sinking back down onto his lap, you held the mark high before bringing it down, kissing it sweetly before waving it in his face teasing him, “Thanks for that! I’ll be sure to buy myself something nice with it.”

As you stuffed the bill in his pocket, you noticed him fake pouting, his head turned to the side, his dark brows bunched together. Rolling your eyes, you leaned forward, squeezing his face in your hands, putting on your best baby voice.

“Awe, is Alex upset he lost the bet? Is the poor baby pouting because he lost five marks? Does the baby need a hug? A kiss to make it better?”

You smirked when you saw him beginning to crack, feeling his mouth turn into a smile before you placed wet grandma-style kisses all over his face, hearing him groan as he pushed your face away from him, “Oh, get off!”

Falling back, your body now nestled in between his legs with your own on top of him, resting on either side of him, back pressed against the couch, you could only smile at the moment shared with him. Even after everything that happened with his mother falling into her coma, the end of the GDR, and him switching jobs - he still seemed to be the enthusiastic Alex you met when you were a teenager.

You must have been staring at him for some time now, deep in though, because you felt a flick to your nose that pulled you out of it, “Ow! What was that for?”

Falling back, propped on his elbow, Alex laughed and shook his head, “I asked you a question...although you seemed to be pretty spaced out with something else. Wanna share with the class?” He teased, shaking your foot in his hand obnoxiously before your rolled your eyes, pulling your foot from his grasp, moving it to drape over his stomach to the other side with your other foot - although you seemed to drop your leg more heavily on his stomach than you imagined, hearing a grunt come from him.

“Nothing important,” You explained casually before shrugging, “What’s up?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you smiled at him back as he flashed his signature crooked toothy grin your way, “I asked if you were hungry. And if so, do you got anything here or do you wanna go out?”

Rolling your eyes, you moved off of him before standing up, making your way to your kitchen, “You always ask me if I’m hungry, which means you’re hungry and you don’t want to be the only one eating.” You stated, opening the fridge to look for what you had. It wasn’t that full, but you had enough to make something work.

Hearing him get up, you listened as he made his way into the kitchen as well, standing behind you as he reached over your, pulling open the freezer. “How old is that pizza?” When you opened the box, Alex shrugged and took it, nudging the freezer shut with the pizza box before turning to go back to the couch.

To anyone outside of your friend/family group, it looked as though you were both living in a perfect domestic relationship- but that was just it, you weren’t. Alex and you were painfully close, dancing in an unknown realm that left you sometimes confused. There were times that he treated you like a guy would treat a girlfriend and then there were other times he treated you like his older sister, Ariane. You weren’t as delicate as the other girls were - you punched back and knew how to wrestle him to the ground to get what you wanted. But it felt as though sometimes Alex took that as you being ‘one of the boys’ as you’ve heard many guys say at your job down at the club. Though, just because you were less delicate than most girls, did that mean you couldn’t be seen as a girl?

Your love for Alex was something you didn’t like to think about. When the two of you first met as teenagers, love was something simple. You told him over and over again that you loved him and hung onto him like he was your rock - because he was, but the older you got, the more you began to wonder if that love was really all that simple?

Shaking your head, as if trying to shake the thoughts from your mind, you reached to grab the bag of cherries, shutting the fridge door behind you as you went to sit back on the couch beside Alex, sinking in before popping a couple cherries in your mouth, chewing at them. You took the cup used for ashes when Alex came over to spit the seeds into, holding onto the cup with one hand while the other grabbed at the cherries.

You didn’t know how, but you got stuck watching some movie that was being played on one of the channels. It was quite boring, but must have held Alex’s attention as he didn’t seem bothered to change the channel. You, however, grew incredibly tired, your eyes heavy as your head lulled to the side. It didn’t take long before you fell against Alex, snoring slightly, the cup of cherry seeds still in one hand with the bag of cherries in your lap.

Glancing over to his right, Alex smiled at your sleeping form. Setting the empty pizza box on the ground, he moved the bag of cherries off your lap and on top of the box, taking the cup carefully from your hand to set back on the table beside you. Doing his best, he scooped you up in his arms, standing up to carry you into your room.

It didn’t take him long to get you into bed, not bothering with putting pajamas on you as you already had comfier clothes on. Pulling the blankets over you, Alex tucked the blankets tight around you to keep you secure, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder, “Sleep well.”

Pushing off the bed, Alex turned to leave, careful to not trip over anything you had laying around on the ground. He shut your door quietly, carefully making his way back to the couch before turning the television off, grabbing the blanket and pillow from the chair to ready the couch to sleep on. When he unfolded the blanket, curling up the best he could on the couch, it didn’t take long for him too to be taken by sleep.