#i hope these actually tag you on the post for some reason the beta post editor is really fucky with mentions

[lily-fics-11]

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 8 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here

Tag list: @avocifera @academiareid @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12 @whoopsiedaisy460 @kittenchae

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The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 8

Synopsis: After resolving some miscommunication, things heat up with Hazel. Also between Jeff and Mrs. Callahan, and of course the bomb that gets planted under Jeff’s car.

Word count: 4k

CW: Profanities, mentions of cheating, heated making out, mentioning being turned on, one use of the word binge but not in reference to ed, a bomb and explosion

*Not beta read

@reiisstuff asked about seeing things from Hazel’s POV so I tried it out a little bit in this chapter, not sure if it went well or not (writing like this without a name is really hard lol) so let me know what you think :)

Hazel walks you to your front door and gives you a hug. With her arms still wrapped around your waist she pulls the upper part of her body away from yours to take a good look at your face. Her eyes wander over you dreamily until they stop on your lips. As she leans in you close your eyes, only for her to press her soft lips to your cheek. 

You open your eyes, feeling disappointed that Hazel hadn’t just kissed you right on the lips. She sees that on your face and looks terrified. She lets go of you and stumbles backwards.

“I gotta go,” she stammers and she takes off before you can explain yourself. 

Fuck. Fuck! FUCK! You really ruined things, didn’t you.

Pulse racing, you take some deep breaths and run a hand through your hair. Wanting to go after her is being weighed against not wanting to push her to talk before she is ready. You will reach out in an hour or so to see if she is up for it. 

Tears threaten to well up in your eyes. Hazel is hurt, and it’s your fault. Hazel ran away, and she may never come back. You push through the front door to avoid talking to your mom.

You go up to your room and flop down on your bed. You wipe the tears from your eyes and FaceTime Brittany, you know from the snap map that her and Isabelle are together. 

“Heyyyyyy bitch!” Brittany says when she picks up the phone. After she gets a good look at you her face drops. “Oh my god are you like, okay?”

“I thought you had your date with Hazel?” Isabelle asks in a more soothing tone. 

“I did. And it actually was a date. And it went so well. And then she kissed me…” the two of them audibly gasp. “But on the cheek, and she saw that I was disappointed and got upset. But I was only disappointed because I wanted her to actually kiss me.”

Brittany is the first to grill you for more details. “Did you tell her that?”

“No she ran off, I didn’t get the chance to.” 

“Oh noooo,” Brittany groans.

“You gotta talk to her!” Isabelle demands with urgency.

“I don't want to push her to talk if she's not ready.”

“Just, just, just… send her a text!” Brittany stutters before pulling herself together and suggesting that you say you want to talk, whenever it works for her.

You open up your messages with Hazel to type out a text. Before sending it you read it outloud so it can be approved by the council: I wanted to let you know that I had a great time tonight, I would love to talk about it whenever you get the chance.

“That sounds good,” Isabelle promises you.

You press send then throw the phone to the side and your friends question why they can’t see you anymore.

“Sorry guys, I'm just nervous.” You sigh without actually picking up your phone.

“It’s just Hazel,” Brittany tries to reason with you, “you guys have had like, way bigger drama than this before. And figured it out. Everything is going to be ok.”

You aimlessly play with your hair. “I hope you’re right.”

“Hazel isn’t like your ex,” Isabelle’s voice is soft and tender. She is the best at comforting people with her loving demeanor and understanding of emotions. “She’s not going to gaslight and blame you for everything.”

All you can do is echo her words. “Hazel isn’t like that.”

“Let’s keep you distracted while we wait for her to answer,” Brittany suggests. You and your best friends start to debrief about the latest episode of a show that you all watch. In the middle of the conversation your phone buzzes and you scream.

“Oh my god are you ok?” Brittany shouts.

“My phone buzzed,” you answer shyly, a little embarrassed by what may have been a slight overreaction. 

“Is it her?” Isabelle asks without acknowledging that you screamed like you were being stabbed.

You look at the notification and scream again. 

“I’m guessing it was her?” Isabelle chuckles, though she tries to muffle it.

You roll your eyes and get as close to a smile as you can under these circumstances. “How’d you know?” That elicits some giggles. “What do I do?”

“I would probs read it,” Brittany suggests teasingly, “but that’s just me.”

“That’s def better than screaming,” Isabelle nods in agreement.

You read the message out loud: having a bit of a rough night, stuff with my mom. If you still want to drive to the car wash together tomorrow we could talk then?

“TOMORROW? I HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL TOMORROW?”

Brittany promises that her and Isabelle will be over to pick you up as soon as possible. They spend the night keeping you sane.

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You wake up an hour before your alarm after falling in and out of sleep all night. 

You are out on your front porch about a half hour early. Hazel comes outside just a few minutes after. Approaching tentatively, she takes a seat next to you, not too close, but also not too far. 

Hazel is the one to break the ice. “I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” you promise her.

Her palm meets her forehead and she mumbles “you didn’t want to be kissed.”

“That’s not it.”

“Then what was it?”

“I just wanted…” you bite your lip for a moment, in disbelief that you are really saying this to her, “more.”

“More? What does ‘more’ mean?” Hazel questions with her head tilted to the side like a curious puppy.

You nervously play with your hair. “I wanted you to actually kiss me, on the lips. I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did, I should have been more respectful of your boundaries.”

Hazel slides closer to you. “Believe me, I wanted to kiss you. I’ve been dying to, barely even able to stop myself any time we make eye contact. But I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

You giggle as you grab the girl you love by her shirt and pull her close. When her lips finally meet yours, after years of waiting, the kiss exceeds your expectations by miles. You expected sparks, but this is fireworks. Beautiful, brightly colored, and explosive. 

One of Hazel’s hands holds your face, her other arm wrapping around your waist. You keep her close to you, still by her shirt, but also the back of her neck. The two of you get lost in eachother, savoring the taste, binging like it’s your last meal. 

Hazel pulls you onto her lap, your legs straddling her waist. Your lips move together, you breathe at the same pace, your tongues explore each other's mouth. The world has stopped around you until you hear someone call “Hazel?”

The two of you disconnect to see Mrs. Callahan is laughing.

“Finally!” She yells. You and Hazel look at eachother with bulging eyes and red faces from the heat of the moment, along with the embarrassment.

“We were actually just leaving,” Hazel tells her mom, voice strained. She grabs your hand and pulls you to the car, practically running, to avoid having to talk to her mom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hazel’s POV

My… not girlfriend and I arrive at the school parking lot early. We make our predictions about what we think everyone will be doing at the car wash. Isabelle already told everyone that she is going to be selling used panties to any weird old men that show up, she knows as a cheerleader that they love having their cars washed by teenage girls. Then there is PJ, who will be bitching about something while Josie tries to reason with her. Stella will put on her car convention smile.

I am absolutely exhausted, so when everyone trickles in and gets to work I sit down in the middle of the parking lot. My adorably supportive neighbor sits with me. PJ and Josie stand close by, unsurprisingly chatting instead of helping.

The ears of the cute girl sitting next to me perk up when Josie mentions that she is hanging out with Isabelle tonight. Isabelle and Josie in the same sentence is unusual, but I don’t have it in me to pay any attention.

I am so worn out that I groan in frustration. PJ’s head snaps around to look at me. “Hazel, what is wrong? Are you constipated or something?” She is clearly not asking because she is concerned, but because she is annoyed. 

“I’m fucking tired, my mom was up all night fucking the meathead.”

“What meathead?” PJ looks a little intrigued. I think it should be obvious that I’m talking about that one specific dude. He is THE meathead, leader of all the other meat heads. Josie notices PJ paying attention so she does too.

“You know, like, the guy.” No reaction. “He’s like the crybaby,” I look around at the three girls and they are still not getting it. “With balls,” I offer up but get nothing but blank stares in return. “He catches them and he… he throws them.” I’m trying to explain the sport that he and all those other guys with matching outfits and shoulder pads play, but it didn't help. “He’s like…” I pause for a moment to find the right words, “the main guy.” I can see the moment they catch on in their facial expressions.

“J-Jeff?” Josie stutters. “Is your mom hooking up with Jeff?”

“I just thought Jeff might be a safe word,” I admit sheepishly, I never made the connection. 

“Jeff is his name, you idiot!” PJ barks at me. My girlfriend, I mean best friend, almost jumps up at PJ but I put out my arm to stop her. I know she is glaring right now without even looking over, but I don’t like confrontation.

“I just get all the hot people confused, Jesus” I mumble. They all wear the same clothes, how am I supposed to tell them apart? 

We hear a yelp and all four of us look over in its direction to see what happened. Stella is on the ground, but she pops right back up and calls out “I’m good!”

“Looking good Stella!” PJ assures her before looking back and forth between my neighbor and Josie. “Are you gonna tell her?”

“Well she should probably hear it in person,” the beautiful girl next to me murmurs gloomily.

Josie sighs and bites her lip. “I’m going to see her tonight, I can tell her. It might be easier to hear it from someone less involved.”

Everyone nods their heads in defeated agreement. Josie and PJ go back to talking to each other. I lean over, not just because I want to get as close to this girl as I can get, but to say “I swear I was going to tell you about Jeff as soon as I got the chance. I was just distracted this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it Haze,” I’m assured with a sweet smile, “I was distracted too. Even though this will hurt Isabelle she's been through this before, and she might actually leave Jeff this time. And she is so much better off without him. I’m worried about you too. You’re mom fucking around with Jeff… I can’t even imagine how that makes you feel. And the fact that they did it all night and you had to hear it? Fucking disgusting. You are staying with me until everything gets sorted out.”

I look away from her when I tell her that I don't want to be a burden.

She puts her arm around me, and turns my face towards her with her soft hand. That earns a side eye from Josie and PJ. “Hazel, you could never be a burden to me.” I momentarily get lost in her honest eyes before I wrap my arms around her to give her a hug. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I admit with tears in my eyes. “I don’t know how I did it all these years.”

“I’m always going to be here. You don’t ever have to be alone again.”

After the car wash we drive home and I quietly go into my house to grab the essentials. Toothbrush, charger, school bag to get work done, that sort of thing. Just enough clothing that I can wear what I need of my own, and steal the rest like the love of my life is actually my girlfriend. 

After arriving next door we had lunch with her mom. With a push from the beautiful girl I finally got to kiss today, I explained everything going on at home. Having always been like a second mom to me it was so nice to have a maternal figure there to listen and reassure me. That really takes my feelings into consideration. 

When we are done eating and debriefing, me and my not girlfriend go upstairs to her room. 

I want her to be my girlfriend, of course. More than anything else, if I'm being honest. But I guess right now she is just my girl. At least I think so.

My girl gets comfortable in bed and I lay down with my head in her lap. She twirls her fingers through my hair and I get lost in her eyes the way I always do, entranced by her smile, basking in her presence. 

When she leans down and kisses me her lips absorb every thought out of my head aside from her. At first she is gentle, but soon enough I’m tasting her tongue. I breathe in her familiar scent and it’s intoxicating. She has flooded all of my senses and it’s a high that undoubtedly, no drug could ever match. 

She pulls away dazed, lips puffy, cheeks adorably pink. I sit up and climb over her to straddle her waist. I lean her back against the pillows and she licks her lips, watching me with starry eyes. 

I take a moment to admire her beauty, like I’m assessing a priceless work of art. 

“What?” She questions with a giggle that is basically a siren song to me..

I lean in and whisper “I just can’t get enough of you,” and she shudders from the feeling of my warm breath on her neck. I shift to hover over her face and she grabs me by the back of my neck to roughly kiss me. Her other hand tangles into my hair. 

We move in sync like our lips were made to be connected. She bites my bottom lip and I moan into her mouth. We start so eager, overcome with desire. It only continues to grow until we are both winded from having been breathing in one another instead of air. 

“I don’t want to move too fast,” I admit, trying not to pant. 

“Me neither, I want to savor every moment.”

I kiss my girl’s forehead and roll over next to her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her as close to me as possible.

We start binge watching a show together and I couldn’t ask for anything more in this moment. 

After dinner with her mom, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen takes me outside to make s'mores, like we always used to. She knows it’s my favorite so she came up with the idea while trying to figure out ways to cheer me up. More kissing would have worked, but her thinking that much about it melts my heart. 

While we are snuggled up by the fire, the stars light up the sky, and the Crickets are chirping. 

That is until a phone pings, I thought it was mine at first but it wasn’t. Isabelle has texted the council saying “Jeff cheated again. Come to my place tomorrow at noon.”

The replies she receives are full of heart emojis, I loves you’s, and reminders that she is a baddie. 

When the phone gets locked I see a teary eyed reflection on the dark screen. I look over at the prettiest crying I have ever seen. “I just hate seeing her go through this again. She deserves so much better.”

I wipe some of the tears off her face and try to look on the bright side. “Maybe she will be done with him now.”

“I hope so,” she sighs.

As it starts to get late we get ready for bed and watch a sappy rom com. I get comfortable and she lays in my arms, holding me back just as tightly. She nuzzles her head into the crook of my neck. 

My beautiful girl falls asleep halfway through the movie so I kiss her forehead and close my eyes. I don’t fall asleep right away, I just live in this moment that I have been dreaming of for years.

We wake up tangled together and share soft sweet kisses before we realize just how hungry we are. We make pancakes for breakfast and make a huge mess in the kitchen. After cleaning up we part ways, her for Isabelle’s house and me for home. Hesitantly, I open the front door and am very relieved to not hear any suspicious noises.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your POV

You and Britany spend your Sunday curating the perfect revenge outfit for Isabelle, formulating a battle plan, and hyping her up. 

Isabelle is heated all of Monday morning as she preps herself to confront Jeff. She wants to do it at lunch, so everyone can see. Embarrass him the way he embarrasses her whenever he cheats. 

We have one last check in before Isabelle storms into the cafeteria towards the football table. Anyone or anything in her way gets pushed aside, capturing everyone’s attention. Her high heels clicking on the floor is the only sound to be heard, everyone has gone silent. The whole school watches her on her warpath, in awe. 

You and Brittany stay behind, but Hazel follows along as the eye witness. You can’t really hear what is being said until Jeff points at Hazel and yells “shut up nerd! I fucked your mom!”

Moments later Isabelle pivots back around and struts towards you and the rest of the girls in fight club. “I’m getting revenge,” she announces. “I’m gonna fuck up some football players and I’m buying a gun.”

A few girls throw out more ideas as you all follow Isabelle out of the cafeteria. Hazel, who is trailing behind, suggests “or what about, like… a bomb?”

Everyone stops dead in their tracks, too shocked to speak. Hazel continues oblivious to everyone’s shock. “Like a, like a super small bomb. I mean, they are really easy to make, and I can just… put it under his car, and it can be a distraction.” You're suddenly reminded of a suspiciously bomb-like device you had seen in Hazel’s room.

PJ is the only one able to put enough together words to reply. “Yeah Hazel, let’s do terrorism.” Hazel gives her a small nod of approval. 

The members of the fight club begin to disperse. Hazel puts her arm around your shoulders and asks “would you want to work on a project with me tonight, before the whole revenge thing?”

You start to panic because you have no idea what project she is talking about. “Wait for which class? When is it due? I don’t even remember being assigned a project!” Everything going on with Hazel must really be messing with your brain.

“Oh no, not a school project. Something more…” She pauses to scratch the back of her head and find the right word. “... recreational.”

“Haze, what does that even mean?”

“The bomb…” she says nonchalantly, looking particularly mischievous.

Your wide eyes stare into hers. “You aren’t actually going to make a bomb, are you?”

Hazel flashes an enchanting smile that you can’t resist. “Does Jeff not deserve it?”

“Fuck it, let's make a bomb.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After school you and Hazel build a fucking bomb. Just in her room, like it's completely normal. You never expected to be in this situation but watching her wielding this power kind of turns you on.

The bomb is rather simple to make, and Hazel already has all the supplies. Questioning that isn't even worth it at this point. You help out by holding wires and passing over tools. She is so hyper fixated, and you are slightly afraid of an explosion, so you don’t talk any more than necessary during the process. 

After sundown the fight club meets up at Annie’s house, she has a van that could (technically) fit everyone. She drives, Brittany calls shotgun, and everyone else crams into the back. You are the last one to get in so you aren’t even sure you will fit. The entire volume is practically occupied.

“Uh…” Josie says looking around for a solution. Her eyes land on your neighbor and she smirks, “you can just sit on Hazel’s lap, right?”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s fine.” You hear a few giggles and whispers, none of which are coming from PJ, who is giving you a death glare out of the corner of her eye. Hazel wraps her arms around your waist to keep you from falling over and rests her chin on her shoulder. All while looking over at PJ, to tell her to fuck off without actually saying it. You can’t tell whether it is you or Hazel that PJ is jealous of. 

The fight club spills out of the van and disperses to start their assigned tasks. You will be assisting Hazel with putting the bomb under Jeff’s car. She slides under like a mechanic and gets to work while you hold a box of tools. You become increasingly more anxious as time passes. Hazel had made it seem like it wouldn’t take too long when explaining the plan, and you can hear her cursing under her breath. You can’t help but imagine getting blown to pieces in front of Jeff’s house, but your undying love for Hazel keeps you by her side. 

“Like fifteen minutes…” Hazel says to herself before you hear a ticking that sounds dangerously like a countdown to an explosion like you hear on tv. Is this thing about to blow? Right now?

You fears are confirmed when Hazel starts yelling “FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!” as she scrambles out from under the car. She grabs your hand and drags you to start running with her. You hear a large boom behind you. You are flooded with the warmth of the heat being radiated  by the blazing fire. Looking back to see the burning car makes you feel like an actress in an action movie. A romantic comedy had always been desired with Hazel, but a little action doesn’t hurt. Anyone but Jeff’s car, that is.

Everyone piles into the van; you end up on Hazel’s lap again (even though you didn’t have to). Everyone cheers as Josie slams on the gas pedal, driving dangerously over the speed limit.

[popfizzles]

Here are the Ko-Fis I got done today, thank you everyone for hanging out with me!

@artnerd1123 @duuvly @p-o-3 @valentinesdayy

[gyuswhore]

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom. 

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin. 

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice. 

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly. 

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands. 

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers. 

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter. 

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands. 

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her. 

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?” 

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.” 

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future. 

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt. 

“Sure, yeah. What is it?” 

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all” 

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway. 

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring. 

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-” 

“I have class tomorrow.” 

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.” 

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now” 

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night” 

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building. 

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically. 

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down. 

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process. 

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding, 

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed. 

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself. 

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids. 

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” 

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.” 

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.” 

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted. 

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done. 

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation. 

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand. 

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way. 

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express. 

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display. 

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you. 

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night. 

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew. 

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head. 

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.” 

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe. 

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines. 

You deserved to wallow in this pit. 

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath. 

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds. 

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock. 

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name. 

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond. 

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.” 

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears. 

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut. 

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call. 

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response. 

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.” 

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over. 

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows. 

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?” 

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further. 

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands. 

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.” 

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.” 

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh. 

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot. 

The doorbell rings. 

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling. 

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!” 

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door. 

Mingyu’s brought a girl. 

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later. 

“This is my sister” 

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky. 

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit. 

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge. 

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her. 

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.” 

There it is. 

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence. 

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance. 

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over. 

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you. 

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister. 

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from. 

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun. 

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”. 

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder. 

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression. 

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already. 

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?” 

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!” 

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going. 

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect,  “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away. 

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.” 

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you. 

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity. 

“Okay, I know you’re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you. 

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.” 

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice. 

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.” 

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination 

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice. 

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion. 

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?” 

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter. 

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances. 

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles. 

“What? Is it bad?” 

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?” 

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?” 

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face. 

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside. 

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later. 

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her. 

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight. 

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside. 

There’s no Nayeon in sight. 

But there is Mingyu. 

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both. 

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears. 

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him. 

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?” 

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?” 

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?” 

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.” 

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny. 

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest. 

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck. 

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up. 

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.” 

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream. 

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.” 

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral. 

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see. 

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure. 

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting. 

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality. 

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school. 

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner. 

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner. 

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose. 

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand. 

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself. 

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?” 

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!” 

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland. 

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit. 

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does. 

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.” 

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form. 

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart. 

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear. 

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed. 

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite. 

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.” 

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again. 

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet. 

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door. 

“Where’ve you been?” 

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.” 

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.” 

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus. 

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…” 

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.” 

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation. 

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses. 

“Especially when it’s none of my business.” 

“Charming.” 

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major. 

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.” 

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.” 

“Are we getting paid?” 

“You get to say you modeled for me.” 

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans. 

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you. 

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh. 

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?” 

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices. 

“I am,” You confirm. 

“For what?” He sputters. 

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?” 

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question. 

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?” 

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks. 

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.” 

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.” 

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.” 

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-” 

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika. 

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk. 

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.” 

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that. 

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table. 

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch. 

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.” 

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.” 

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers. 

“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause. 

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in. 

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face. 

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”  

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face. 

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it. 

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort. 

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points. 

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!” 

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor. 

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat. 

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over. 

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite. 

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?” 

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes. 

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.” 

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.” 

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar. 

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance. 

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last. 

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time. 

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all. 

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers. 

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity. 

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence. 

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week. 

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information. 

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone. 

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins. 

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.” 

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name. 

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you. 

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t. 

—Kim, Mingyu. 

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes. 

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was. 

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him. 

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here! 

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off. 

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true. 

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up. 

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him. 

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand. 

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus. 

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously. 

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.” 

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually. 

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything. 

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin. 

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you. 

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?” 

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back. 

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?” 

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour. 

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?” 

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly. 

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.” 

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.” 

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?” 

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.” 

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.” 

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.” 

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod. 

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared. 

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.” 

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing. 

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling. 

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is. 

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry. 

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat. 

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake. 

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human. 

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on. 

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash. 

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness. 

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch. 

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice. 

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard. 

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to. 

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else. 

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh. 

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help. 

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention. 

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor. 

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her. 

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house. 

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more. 

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.  

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked. 

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down. 

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention. 

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel. 

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car. 

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further. 

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns. 

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.” 

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard. 

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended. 

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister. 

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.” 

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat. 

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride. 

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.” 

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought. 

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip. 

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results. 

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.” 

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair. 

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done. 

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you. 

“What?” 

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation. 

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?” 

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.” 

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes. 

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.” 

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years. 

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night. 

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there. 

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing. 

He’s probably fine. 

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu. 

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos. 

“Oh, hey,” he says normally. 

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room. 

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.” 

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.” 

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway. 

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.” 

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you. 

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round. 

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour. 

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.” 

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself. 

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?” 

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it. 

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff. 

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.” 

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.” 

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch. 

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night. 

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car. 

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest. 

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip. 

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!” 

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks. 

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants. 

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak. 

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.” 

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.” 

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise. 

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried. 

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them. 

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room. 

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked. 

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you. 

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping. 

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it. 

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room. 

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry. 

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls. 

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots. 

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn. 

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces. 

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break. 

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time. 

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts. 

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.” 

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?” 

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.” 

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out. 

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.” 

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights). 

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away. 

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.” 

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood. 

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare. 

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine. 

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.  

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today. 

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera. 

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it. 

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound. 

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket. 

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see. 

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?” 

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.” 

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least. 

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off. 

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route. 

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing. 

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.” 

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?” 

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.” 

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting. 

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends. 

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day. 

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home. 

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little. 

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!” 

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here. 

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in. 

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.” 

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm. 

“Ah, I see.” 

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?” 

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.” 

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.” 

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.” 

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.” 

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection. 

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”  

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.” 

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation. 

“When does your shift end?” 

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that. 

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously. 

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.” 

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.” 

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.” 

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.” 

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.” 

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement. 

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible. 

Truly. 

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention. 

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?” 

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial. 

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.” 

“Seok!” 

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!” 

Beep. 

The bastard hung up. 

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu. 

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle. 

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy. 

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night. 

“Babe?” 

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?” 

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long. 

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word. 

“Fifteen.” 

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected. 

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it. 

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.  

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?” 

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.” 

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.” 

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.” 

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.” 

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms. 

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her. 

“What now?” she groans. 

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!” 

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours. 

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally. 

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy. 

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up. 

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.” 

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.” 

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past. 

It doesn’t. 

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.”  Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully. 

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice. 

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated. 

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!” 

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place. 

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!” 

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it. 

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!” 

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.” 

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done. 

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it. 

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project. 

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful. 

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card. 

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece. 

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

Happy June everyone! Whether you’re celebrating Pride or finishing up school or looking forward to the start of summer, I hope you have something to look forward to this month. June gloom is in full swing where I live but I’m holding out hope that the warm days are ahead and the seasonal depression will be on its way out. 🤞🏻At the very least, I only have two more weeks of work until I’m off for the summer. Good times ahead!

In other news, I think I’m going to start posting my time travel AU, Back and Back and Back this week. I’ve got 3 chapters written, one with the betas and another half way written. I’m hoping that’s enough padding to keep a fairly consistent posting schedule. Wish me luck!

I decided to share the prologue today, since it’s only six ten sentences anyway. I originally had this in the middle of the first chapter mostly just for vibes to get me excited to write the next bit. I thought I’d need to kill it, but then @cutestkilla and @emeryhall thought it’d work well as a prologue, so you can thank them for keeping this alive:

BAZ

The thing about being in love with someone from the future is…well, it’s crap, isn’t it?

It makes living in the present nearly unbearable. The majority of the time, I’m stuck here, alone, pining for someone who’s about as far away from me as they can get. And how does one visit their boyfriend from the future anyway? The answer is, they don’t, not unless said time travelling boyfriend visits them. And Merlin knows, if there were some rhyme or reason to when or why he visits me when he does, I would have cracked that formula long ago.

I don’t know why I insist on calling him my boyfriend. How can you date someone who doesn’t even live in the same magic forsaken time as you? You can’t. You can merely yearn for them, hope and wish and dream to see them, and wait for your luck to actually pan out.

Tags/thanks/hello

@cutestkilla @emeryhall @whatevertheweather @artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @thewholelemon @bookish-bogwitch @mooncello @roomwithanopenfire @blackberrysummerblog @forabeatofadrum @monbons @raenestee @aristocratic-otter @iamamythologicalcreature @larkral @rimeswithpurple @alexalexinii @letraspal @moodandmist @ileadacharmedlife @fiend-for-culture @drowninginships @shrekgogurt @that-disabled-princess @prettygoododds @run-for-chamo-miles

[cha0ticspacebi]

Like 91% of the population, you were now and would always be a beta. Except when your roommate moves out suddenly and fate connects you with Alpha Eddie Munson. After that, things start to change.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (Coming Soon)

Pairing: Alpha Eddie Munson x Female Omega Reader

Word Count: 10.4 k

Tags: Omegaverse and everything that goes with it (knotting, nesting, scenting, heats, ruts, breeding kink, biting, you get the idea), college student reader, mechanic Eddie, panty sniffing but not from who you probably think, reader is a little freak but it's just her new instincts, a few instances were reader expresses body insecurities, talks of infertility, minor Steve Harrington x Chrissy Cunningham, and they were roommates! ⚠️ 21+ MDNI ⚠️

divider by firefly-graphics

All through public school sex education classes, you were told that if you didn’t experience signs of presenting during a certain time period, you never would. Most people don’t. That was certainly the case for you. Puberty came and went without the slightest hint of a secondary gender.

Even as society around you exists in the midst of a massive fertility crisis, more than 91% of the population is classified as beta. Experts in the field predicted that with the rapidly declining birth rates that we might see a rise in alpha and omega pairings but so far that has not been the case. No viable differences were seen until last year when the number of known alphas increased by a meager .2%.

Still, many beta couples continue to seek assistance with conceiving a child, which is part of the reason why you decided that would be your field of study. Currently a third year med student at a university, whose promising research in the field is making headlines all over the world, you hoped one day to become a fertility consultant. Helping all those who wish to start a family achieve their dream. 

Ever since you could remember you’ve wanted to help people. In grade school you helped the new student find their way around. You helped the teacher with everyday classroom tasks. Everywhere you went, if you saw someone in need of a helping hand, you provided. Reaching a box of cereal from the top shelf at the grocery store and placing it with a smile in the elderly man’s basket. Helping a lost little girl in the park, you saw on your morning jog, find her mother. Offering to spend your first weekend off in a month helping your roommate move into her new place. Even though that meant you were now a one income dwelling, who wouldn’t be sustained for long on your meager university coffee house earnings.

After helping her, you arrived back to your suddenly empty two bedroom apartment. The immediate urgency for you to find a replacement roommate became very real, very fast. 

The next day you posted fliers all over campus, including the coffee shop, the library, even at the athletic center! You asked your friend Robin to stick some up on the bulletin board at her job as well.

“I actually might know someone,” her eyes flashed quickly from the flier to you, “Someone who could, in theory, move in before next weekend if that's cool with you.”

You practically leaped at her offer, “Absolutely! What’s her name?”

“His name is Eddie and he’s a—“

“Oh,” you’d never had a male roommate before. You considered this new development until glancing at the clock on the wall. You were going to be late for class! While voicing your thoughts about her proposal, you were already headed towards the door, “I guess as long as he’s not a total slob and pays his part of the rent on time that’s all that matters. Give him my number and tell him to call me, I gotta go!”

“Wait! There’s one more thing,” Robin tries to scream after you but you're already running out the front door of the Family Video. 

She watches your car pull away and shakes her head as she forwards your contact info, “Oh well, she’ll figure it out on her own pretty quickly.”

Tuesday was always your longest day. First the opening shift with the morning rush of tired college kids desperate for their caffeine fix. Working what felt like nonstop until noon, followed by classes until after 8:00 at night. By the time you trudged your tired ass back to your apartment, all you wanted to do was sleep. Days like today were why you started leaving a pillow and blanket on the couch because sometimes taking those few extra steps to the bedroom were simply out of the question. 

Collapsing into the cushions, you felt your eyes get heavy and all your muscles finally relaxed. Sleep would come easy tonight.

Until the buzzing of your phone brought you back from the edge of sleepy bliss. You had a text from an unknown number.

Hey, this is Eddie. Robin’s friend. She said you needed a roommate! That’s such a coincidence because I’m a mate who needs a room. 

You couldn’t help the little bud of a smile that grew as you looked at the laughing emoji he added to the end of the text. Is it allowed to make first impressions from a single text? Oh well, your initial impression, he’s a goofball. Playful sort of boy next door, childhood friends in another life maybe. Meeting him in person couldn’t hurt right? Robin wouldn’t have suggested it to you if she didn’t think the two of you would get along.

Hi Eddie, I’m free tomorrow after 5 if you want to stop by and take a look. Try it before you buy it right?

You found yourself holding your phone waiting for his response. Eyes suddenly a little less heavy than before. He didn’t keep you waiting long.

It has four walls, a door, and comes with a sweetheart like you? Consider it sold!

Sweetheart? Sure Robin probably told him you're a nice person and all but that’s a little, buzz. Your thoughts were interrupted as he messaged again.

Sorry, I hope that didn't come across as pushy. I don’t want you to think I’m some stereotype. I try not to act like an entitled jerk all the time. It’s just, Robin showed me a picture of the two of you at the lake last summer and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think you were pretty.

The thought that he knew what you looked like and was still sending you cheeky messages made you happier than you’d like to admit. You remembered that trip and knew exactly what picture she must have shown him. It was one of the few where you actually felt good about yourself. With another yawn, you typed a response.

You could make it up to me by leveling the playing field? I should know who I’m expecting to meet tomorrow and possibly share a place with. 

Within just a few minutes an image appeared on the screen. He was straddling a vintage motorcycle with a helmet in his hands. Oh. 

You weren’t sure what caught your eye more, his soft looking curly hair, his dark chocolate eyes, or those dimples in his cheeks from the smile he was flashing the camera. He followed the picture up with another message.

Rob told me you were in class all day so I’ll leave you alone since you’re probably tired. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow around 5 roomie!

You should be annoyed. First he calls you sweetheart. Then he has the nerve to tell you to go to sleep, like you’re a child who was up past their bedtime. Then to top it all off, this man has the audacity to assume that just because you exchanged a few texts that he can move right in? Who does he think he is? You should be annoyed– but you’re not. Quite the opposite actually, you just got a little more excited for tomorrow. You fell asleep on the couch with that spout of a smile still growing slowly on your lips. 

Heading home after class the next day felt different. Instead of going home stressing about an exam or worrying about how you are going to pay next month's rent, you feel a touch of nervousness mingling with the excitement for a first meeting. You secretly hoped that Eddie was as cute in person as his picture.

Fate was smiling on you today because class had gotten out a little early giving you just enough time to straighten up the apartment before Eddie arrived. 

You hung a clean hand towel up in the bathroom, put fresh sheets on the bed that your old roommate left behind and smiled when you lit the pine scented candle that sat on the coffee table. Happy that you could get one more light out of it before it would need to be replaced. You fluffed the decorative throw pillows on the couch and finally closed the door to your own room before waiting to hear the knock on the door.

When that noise finally echoed through the quiet air you felt your body shiver with anticipation. You let out a reassuring breath, hoping it would calm your nerves and opened the door.

“Hey!” he smiled as brightly as the picture he’d sent you while he greeted you by name, “So? Am I as cute as my picture? Because you certainly are.”

Add big flirt to your first impressions. He was definitely laying on the charm but you were also falling for it hook line and sinker, “Hi Eddie, it’s nice to meet you. Come on in!”

You offered your arm in a welcoming gesture. He stepped inside and brushed past you ever so slightly. He must be wearing a strong cologne. Just that quick pass had your senses overwhelmed with the earthy, woodsy smell.

“So this is the common area,” you pointed out all the usual necessities, “Here’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen. Off to the side there is a little dining table but I’ll be honest I think I’ve used it once. I usually end up eating on the couch.” He commented on how it was a nice place and that it was so close to his work he could walk when the weather got nice again. 

“Where do you work?”

He closed the kitchen cabinet he’d been snooping in and turned to you, “I’m a mechanic over at Murray’s Auto Repair. Rob said you work at the coffee shop on campus, what’s your field of study, young scholar?” 

“Medical. I’m studying to be a fertility specialist,” you made small talk with him as you walked over to show him where his room is… would be! Where his room would be, if you think he’d be a good fit, “Here’s the other room. My old roommate said I could keep the bed and the dresser but if you already have those we can donate these since they’re in pretty good shape.”

He nodded, “Nah they look alright to me. I’m currently crashing on a friend's couch so this would be a huge upgrade.” He inspected the door handle, “Does this door not have a lock?”

“No, mine doesn’t lock either. I always figured it was because they are interior doors?” you shrugged and joined him as he inspected the boring metal doorknob, “They make portable locks you could always use.”

“Yeah, those things aren’t very strong though and when I’m in rut I can get pretty–” you cut him off.

“I’m sorry, when you're in what?”

The complete shock in your eyes and slack jaw had him pulling back a bit from you. A dejected huff through his nose, accompanied by a shake of the head told you he wasn’t too pleased with your question, “I thought Rob told you?”

“She didn’t tell me anything besides your name and the fact you were looking for a place,” you swallowed hard. You were in your third year of med school, you knew damn well what a rut was but the problem here was that only alphas experience them so if he… the wheels clicked in your head and you suddenly felt small standing beside him, “You’re an alpha?”

He crossed his arms, “Is that a problem? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable so you just say the word and I’m gone.”

His messages last night suddenly made a little more sense. He didn’t want to come across as a stereotypical hotheaded, asshole alpha. Truthfully though, he had been nothing but respectful so far. He had a steady job and already offered to pay your half of the rent for the first month! He even promised to do half the household chores. Honestly, he seemed like a great candidate for a roommate. Why should his status change any of that?

You shook your head, “No it’s alright.” You rocked on your heels with your hands held behind your back, trying to restore the conversation to its former comfort level, “So, when can you move in?”

His smile reappeared, but he didn’t answer your question. He instead turned and belly flopped onto the bed, you heard a deep sigh escape his mouth, “Shit, can I stay here tonight? I really don’t want to sleep on that couch again.” He turned on his hip and looked at you from the bed, “You know Rob’s friend Steve?” You shook your head, you’d only known Robin since the spring semester and hadn’t met any of her friends yet, “Well Harrington’s a great guy but he’s a family man now and can’t have a lonely alpha crashing on his couch anymore.”

You stood awkwardly in the doorway, unsure if you should intrude on the space he just claimed, “Is Steve also an alpha?”

“Yeah. He and I had been living together for years before he met that sweet Chrissy of his,” he collapsed on his back and stared at the ceiling, “They had a kid, cute little boy, a few months ago and I lost my room.”

“Is Chrissy an omega?” you were mentally taking notes. Before Eddie came waltzing through your door, you’d never gotten the chance to talk to someone with a secondary gender at length before. There were some alphas you knew of in your classes throughout the years, mostly because all of them were loud and obnoxious about it. But none that you ever felt compelled to converse with. If they were cool with it, maybe they could answer some questions for the paper your gender sciences professor just assigned. Having some first hand alpha/omega pairbond experience would be great for your research. 

“Nah,” well nevermind, considering the low omega presentation rates you’d have been shocked if that was the case. You could always talk to Eddie about what it’s like to be an unmated alpha. He continued, “Never actually had the pleasure of meeting one. I hear they are crazy sweet though.”

You asked Eddie if he needed to go get anything from Steve’s place tonight, to which he just insisted he’d go tomorrow while you were in class. You had been so anxious for his arrival that you forgot to eat so you offered to cook dinner for him. 

“You really don’t have to,” he tried to stop you but then his stomach growled loud enough that it was probably heard from the hallway by a passing neighbor. 

You both looked at each other and you tried not to laugh at his embarrassed expression, but it wasn’t working, “So is ramen ok? If you’re going to live with a starving college student you’re going to have to eat like one. Not that you aren’t welcome to bring in your own food or whatever. I can clear a shelf off for you.” With that you got distracted reorganizing the sparse contents of the fridge, “There. We can put shared items in the middle, I’ll put the things I buy on the bottom and you can have the top shelf.”

You opened the door wider with a smile as he admired your work. You decided after dinner you’d do the same thing with the cabinets and clear a space just for him, “Ok now I’ve definitely worked up an appetite,” reaching up into the cupboard you presented him with two options, “Do you want spicy or regular?”

He gave in. Already, barely an hour in the apartment, and he knew he was no match for you, “Spicy. Thanks, sweetheart.”

You turned on whatever movie was already in the machine while you cooked and then just a few minutes later you were placing a simple bowl of noodles in front of him. He inhaled them, “That was delicious. I’m doing the dishes!” you were about to protest, “No, don’t even try to argue with me. You've already done enough and I’ve only lived here about 2 hours! I can’t have you doing everything for me. I need to pull my weight.”

“Fine, but sit down and finish the movie first.”

He sat on the opposite end of the couch from you. You chose to ignore the little tug that wished he sat closer to you. 

“Is that candle what I’m smelling?” he asked abruptly.

“Probably,” you leaned towards the coffee table and read him the label, “Evergreen Forest?”

His brows furrow, “No, this is sweeter.” He laughed, “When I first stepped in here I thought you were baking cookies, it was so sweet. I still haven’t been able to figure out where it's coming from.”

“Maybe one of the neighbors is baking something?” You weren’t really sure how to respond because you also had no idea what he could be smelling. You weren’t one for perfume and none of your soaps, shampoos, or body wash smelled sweet. At least he didn’t say the apartment smelled bad.

“Sorry, I’m being weird,” he brought you out of your daydream, “Alpha nose,” he poked himself in the tip of his nose, “I’m really sensitive to scent.”

“It’s ok! I find secondary genders fascinating. It’s part of the reason I chose to study fertility.”

He laughed and twisted himself to face you more from his spot on the couch, “Ah, I see. That’s why you let me move in so fast. Using my body for science hm?”

You couldn’t tell if he was joking or not so you deflated a little, “No of course not. I just think the phenomenon is interesting. Growing up I always hoped one day I would present, especially after I was told I can’t have kids.”

His laughing faded. The familiar sad, almost pitying look appeared that everyone gives you when you tell them. You’re not shy about it and you don’t care who knows. Despite having been focused entirely on building your career since you turned 18 and got that news, you do get asked by outsiders quite often when you’re going to settle down and have kids. 

Here comes the inevitable follow up question. He asks you if you want kids, “I’d love to start a family someday.” You shrug and anxiously rub your knees, “I’m painfully single though, so, one step at a time I guess.”

His laughter was quickly becoming your favorite sound in the world, “Me too! Do you mind if I ask how old you are?”

“I’m 26,” you smiled, “What about you?”

“27. I presented when I was 17 and after I finally managed to graduate high school I went to a trade school to become a mechanic.” He laughed again to himself, “Not that I needed any of it. Already learned all there was to learn from my uncle.”

The title screen of the movie playing in the background and the thought of your 6 AM shift were shoved aside as you spent hours talking with him on the couch. You learned where he grew up, that he played in a band for fun with his friends, and that he was a giant nerd. Everything from Dungeons and Dragons, to Lord of the Rings, to Star Wars. He loved all of it. 

You told him about your hobbies outside of school as well. He asked you questions about what kind of music you like, what your favorite color is, and listened to you talk about the things that interested you. It was kind of alarming how comfortable you already felt with him. He was incredibly easy to talk to. Finally, your body knew you’d regret staying up any later than you already had. You yawned.

“Alright pretty girl I’ve bothered you long enough. Go get some sleep,” he raised an arm and rubbed the back of his neck, “Are you sure it’s ok if I stay here tonight? I know it’s short notice and I wouldn’t want you to feel like you had to let me stay. I can move in officially this weekend if that works better.” 

You surrendered. Standing right up and following his order, “It’s fine Eddie. I offered you the room didn’t I? Besides,” you yawned again, “Since you’re covering rent next month you might as well get your money's worth. Although I don’t have any extra blankets,” another yawn became the final nail in your coffin, “All I had was that sheet. I might have some pillows in the linen closet,” you went to check but he stopped you with his words.

“You’re too kind, fair maiden. I don’t need much when I sleep anyways,” he gestured to himself, “Alpha’s usually run pretty hot.” You snorted and shook your head. As different as he is, you can definitely tell he’s still an alpha. He rose from the couch with a deep bow, “I look forward to our adventures together as roommates,” he flicked his hair back up and flashed you a great view of those dimples, “Good night sweetheart.”

Eddie moved in his stuff little by little, the whole process took nearly a week. When you returned home each day you would notice a few new additions here and there. He stuck his shampoo in the bathroom, there was a six pack of beer on his shelf in the refrigerator, and you could typically hear music playing from his room at night. Finally the last item, a second guitar amp, landed in his now fully lived in room. 

It had officially been a week since he moved the last of his stuff in and the two of you fell into a routine. Eddie’s shifts at the shop were usually the same time you were in class. If he got home before you and made some food, he left you a container on your shelf in the fridge. The last few times he’d started leaving a note on the container labeled “Roomie!” a little heart with bat wings drawn with markers that he definitely swiped from your backpack.  Tonight you were getting home first and decided to surprise him for being the world's best roommate. 

Your mind thought back to yesterday as you got started. You had just gotten out of the shower when he mentioned that sweet smell again. You figured he might have a sweet tooth so you decided to make cookies for him.

You tied your hair back and put on the apron you’d found on clearance after Valentine’s Day. It was pink with little conversation hearts scattered everywhere. A picture of a ladybug and the caption Love Bug written across the chest. After completing the scene with some of your favorite music playing softly in the background, you started to work.

After grabbing the flour and sugar, your cheeks felt warm. You had to check the clock to confirm, you’d only been working for a few minutes and you already felt flushed. As though you had been working in the summer heat for hours. You opened the small window that was situated beside your dining table and the cold winter air wafted into the warm kitchen.  It helped a bit. 

Setting the heat in your cheeks aside, you forgot about it after a while. You didn’t even realize how focused on your task you’d become. You felt relaxed. Every care of the outside world was gone. After mixing the last ingredient, the chocolate chips, into the dough and scooping them onto the baking sheet, you put them in the oven. 

“Hm,” you mused to yourself while looking through the cabinet. Wondering if you had the ingredients to make an icing to write #1 roomie on one of the cookies. 

Your mission was successful and while the cookies baked you whipped up a small amount. Giving you just enough time to do the dishes before pulling the cookies out to cool. You checked the time again. It was just after 5:00 and you knew Eddie would be back soon. Scooping the icing into a small ziplock baggie, you tried your best to write on the uneven surface. He walked in just after you finished the last letter.

“Hi Eddie!” You smiled brightly, proud of your work. Then you held out a small plate to him with the cookie, “I made this for you!”

He froze. His body went rigid there in the door frame. For the first time since you met, there was an uncomfortable silence. He just stared at you for a moment. Then, without a word, walked over, grabbed the plate from your hand and went into his room. Leaving you standing there in the kitchen dazed, confused, and if you were honest with yourself, a little sad.

You didn’t see him again that night. He stayed in his room. Replaying that event in your mind you cleaned up, left the rest of the cookies in a tupperware container on the counter, and headed to bed. 

You tried to sleep but the more you pondered, your sadness turned to annoyance. You needed to complain about him so you called Robin. 

“Hey! What’s up?” she sounded cheerful, “Isn’t it way past your bedtime?”

You offered a curt pity laugh, “Haha, very funny. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, I’m assuming based on your tone there’s trouble in roommate heaven?” She nailed it and your frustrations poured out like a waterfall.

“I made him cookies and he acted like I committed a crime. He gave me this look, didn’t say anything, snatched the cookie I offered him, and has been hiding in his room ever since. Is he allergic to chocolate? He might as well be with how upset he looked,” you mocked his non existence words, “Oh, I can’t believe the nerve of this girl, making me cookies, letting me move in with her on such short notice! Alpha Jerk.”

Once your rant was over she hummed, “Eddie’s always had a sweet tooth, that doesn’t make any sense. I need more details. What were you wearing?” 

“Just my normal clothes I wore to class today. I did have an apron on to keep my shirt clean, but why should any of that matter?”

She laughed, “Sounds to me like you might’ve broken him. Let me guess you went full domestic goddess?”

“Well I wouldn’t describe it like that but—“

She interrupted you, “Eddie’s a simple alpha babe. An alpha who, by the way, has never been with an omega. You cooking things just for him? Classic omega behavior, you should know that Ms. Smarty-Science-Pants. On top of that, looking like absolute wife material probably had his brain sizzling like a piece of bacon.”

You listened to her but it didn’t matter, “I’m not an omega though.” Your words were more sad than you’d like to think about.

You could hear her exasperated sigh, “His brain doesn’t know that. I’m telling you that’s all it was. He’s probably hiding because he’s got a huge hard on!”

“Robin!” You yelled and immediately listened for any signs that he might’ve heard your yell. You tiptoed to the door and listened. Nothing. You waited until back in the safety of your bed before talking again, “I’ll admit, you might be right about the first part. But,” you heart sank a little, “I doubt he’s in there with a hard on. There’s no way he feels that way about me.”

“Why not?” Robin combated, “You’re fucking adorable! And If he doesn’t, he’s clearly not using those heightened alpha senses of his because anyone would be lucky to have you.”

You bloomed again, “Thanks Robin. I feel a little better. I’m gonna get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”

The next morning you went about your normal routine. If you hadn’t decided to grab some rations from the kitchen to stuff in your backpack in perpetration for a day full of learning, you’d have missed it. There on the counter where you left the container, now a lot more empty than before, sat a little note. Thanks sweetheart. He left his signature bat heart. You smiled to yourself and flashed your eyes to his door. As if it could’ve been anyone else who wrote the note for you. 

A few days after the cookie incident, you and Eddie had resumed your normal interactions. Although, you hadn’t really stopped thinking about what Robin said. You were on the couch watching some random show on TV when he came in from work.

“Hey,” he sounded tired.

“Hey,” you checked the time, “Thought you got off at 5? I was surprised when I beat you home.”

He went, as he always does, to the bathroom and washed his hands. But this time he made a pit stop to set a small sparkly red bag on the coffee table in front of you, “I was supposed to, had to stay and finish fixing this stupid truck. Damn thing is just going to need to be fixed again in three months anyways.” He stood in the bathroom doorway and looked between you and the bag, “That’s for you.”

You felt the color appear on your face, “Me? Why?”

He replaced the towel he’d been wiping his hands on and walked back to the living room, “Dunno, I felt bad I guess about the other day and when I stopped at the store on my way home I saw that little guy and thought of you.” He spoke in a rushed manner like he was trying to get the words out without making a big deal out of it.

You looked inside the bag and found a small brown teddy bear with a red bow tied around its neck. It was so sweet. You held him in your hands and felt the softness of his fur beneath your fingers. 

“I just wanted to say sorry. Not trying to you know, I don’t know. You can just throw it away when I’m not looking or whatever,” Eddie was rambling and it was absolutely adorable.

“No it’s fine. I like him,” you loved him. He was the same color as Eddie’s eyes.

He went to his room after that and must have gone right to sleep because you saw the light from under the door turn off and didn’t hear any music tonight. You sat there on the couch with your new friend for a bit longer and realized something. He only came in with this. If he just happened to see this while already at the store, what did he go to the store for in the first place?

It was one of your rare days off and you were catching up on some laundry. You knew he might view what you were about to ask similarly to the cookies but hey doing laundry in an apartment building is a pain in the ass. If you're going down you might as well bring some of his clothes too. 

You texted him. Hey, I'm doing some laundry. You need anything washed?

He was at work but usually responded pretty quickly if they weren’t busy. They must not be busy. 

Yeah uh sure. That’s cool. Thanks. There’s a little pile in the corner by my guitar.

You were usually really good about respecting the roommate code. You knocked if you needed to get his attention but hadn’t actually been in the second bedroom since he moved in. Only catching quick glimpses when he would enter or exit. 

As soon as you entered, you thought to yourself, My period must be coming. The wall of musky, woodsy scent hit you like a ton of bricks. It was spicy and warm and distinctively Eddie. You stood in the door frame almost trying to catch your breath, Damn it’s probably going to be a rough one, I'm not usually this sensitive.

Once you regained your balance, you learned that Eddie had not one but two guitars. There was a red and black electric one hanging on the wall and a black acoustic one sitting on a stand beside his dresser. He didn’t specify in his message which one you should look by and both of them had piles of wadded up clothing near them. 

Trying not to inhale too deeply for fear of passing out, you pulled the collar of your shirt up over your nose and grabbed the first pile under the electric guitar. A few shirts and what looked to be pants that he might wear under his coveralls at work.

With still a little room in your basket, you made your way to the second pile. Opting to just pick all of it up at once and drop it in with the other clothes. You instantly knew this probably wasn’t the one he wanted you to wash. Sitting on top of your now shared laundry were several pairs of crusty looking socks and balled up boxers that had been hiding under a shirt. 

You knew you should put them back. Recreate the scene and walk away like you never touched them in the first place. Maybe he wouldn’t notice you had disturbed them. That's what you should do. You knew that. But something stirred inside you. You acted almost on instinct and before you could think too hard about it, you were picking up a pair of his green plaid boxer shorts and bringing them up to your nose.

When you inhaled the scent quite literally knocked you down. You fell backwards onto your ass. A euphoric feeling consumed you, it was like nothing you’d ever felt before. Suddenly your cheeks were flushed, your heartbeat quickened, and you knew you needed more. You smelled them again.

The room smelled like Eddie of course, it was his room. All his belongings were in here. He spent a good portion of his time here. But this, this was more somehow. More Eddie. Like someone had taken his scent and bottled it into a cologne. Then accidentally spilled an entire bottle onto this single pair of underwear. 

Coming down from your high you knew you had to leave them here, he’d notice if the pile was completely missing. Thus knowing you touched his underwear like a weird pervert. But he might not notice one pair mysteriously going missing. 

With the green pair still clutched in your dirty fingers, you replaced each soiled item one by one and covered them back up with the shirt. Then stood back on your feet, picked up the laundry basket, and continued your task as though the last few minutes didn’t happen. 

He came home from work that night to a small pile of neatly folded shirts and pants placed carefully on his bed. There was also a small container of take out with his name on it waiting for him in the fridge. You didn’t have the courage to face him that night after what you had done. So you hid away in your room. Leaving him completely unaware of the thievery that had taken place or the hidden treasure that now sat tucked away in your nightstand. 

It was officially one month that you’d been living with Eddie. If he noticed something missing from his wardrobe, he never mentioned it. 

Tonight you were having your first movie night with friends that you hoped to make a weekly occurrence. Robin was already here and tonight you got to meet their mutual friend Steve for the first time when he came over with his partner Chrissy. 

“I poured the popcorn into a few different bowls since it didn’t fit in just one,” Robin said with a smile as she held up two mismatched things of popcorn.

You feigned despair, “Oh no! What’re we gonna do? We can’t let people know that we live like this!” You turned to Eddie and held your cheeks, “What will the neighbors think?”

He laughed, “Your reputation as a good neighbor was probably lost the moment I moved in sweetheart.” His nickname for you became common tongue. You knew it didn’t hold any meaning, just Eddie being, well Eddie.

Robin didn’t approve of your shenanigans, she set the bowls down on the coffee table, “I never should have introduced you two. You're both menaces.” 

“Au contraire!” Eddie defended, “It’s actually a crime that you didn’t introduce us sooner!”

Your heart swelled hearing that, “Aww, you really do care Eddie. Here I was thinking you just used me for my extra room. Is the big bad alpha going soft? 

He smirked, “Nothing soft about me sweetheart.”

“Oh my god can you not make dick jokes for like 5 minutes please?” Robin threw up her hands, “Are we really about to bring another thick headed alpha in here? Seriously, how did you and Steve not kill each other?” 

Your eyes tracked between them as they bickered. Eddie sat in his usual spot on the couch and Robin was about two seconds away from walking back into the kitchen. 

Eddie laughed, “Relax! Steve and I have more sense than that. Besides, he’s got a girlfriend which calmed him down a little.”

“Good, this apartment can only handle one hot alpha,” You blurted out without thinking and instantly regretted it.

Robin, who was no secret to your massive crush on your friend and roommate, covered her laugh and retreated back to the kitchen. Shooting you a look that says you are so on your own with this one.

Eddie just looked at you, for a brief second there was some unreadable emotion there but it quickly turned to a smug grin. His arm swinging over the back of the couch, opening his legs as he crossed one over the other. “Aww you really think I’m hot sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer him. You’d be forever grateful to whoever just knocked on the door. 

On the other side stood a man with fluffy, perfectly placed brown hair and a big smile. Even without the knowledge this man was an alpha, you’d know right away. From the protective arm around this girlfriend’s shoulders and the oozing confidence, this must be none other than Steve Harrington.

Which meant the cute redhead beside him must be Chrissy. She greeted you with a surprise, though not unwelcome, hug, “It’s so great to finally meet you. Eddie’s told us so much about you.”

“Really?” You looked back to Eddie who was uncharacteristically quiet. You decided to just file that in the back of your mind for now, “Come on in! We made popcorn and pizza should be here soon.” Robin had returned and gave Steve a hug. You couldn’t resist the urge to tease her once more, “I hope you don’t mind the mismatched bowls.”

The movie provided an anchor as you got better acquainted with these new friends. You learned that they met through work. Steve is a personal trainer and Chrissy teaches yoga at the community center. Steve was telling you the story of how his jaw literally dropped when Chrissy walked into his gym to inquire about offering classes there. 

Your body language had naturally leaned in while listening to his story. You sat up a little straighter. Your arms braced against your knees as you gave Steve your full attention. Or at least tried to. The frequent twitches you caught from the corner of your eye kept distracting you. Finally you looked over and saw Eddie clenching his fists against his thighs.

You waited until Steve had finished to say something, “Eddie? Are you ok?”  

His eyes were blown wide as he looked in your direction, “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” The white knuckles now braced against his chin and the point of his elbow digging into his leg said otherwise.

Steve spoke up before you could, “You sure man? You look like you’re ready to rip somebody’s head off.”

“I said I'm fine!” He snapped. 

In an instant, the once friendly atmosphere turned sour and tense. No one really knew what to do. Everyone looked concerned. Searching for the cause of what had upset him. You however were feeling something very different. All you could think about was touching him. No, not touching, your brain supplied. Scenting. 

You wanted nothing more right now than to nuzzle into his hair and neck. Somehow reassuring him that everything was ok.

Now your eyes were blown wide. Your brain all at once processed this intrusive thought. You knew it was nonsense. It must have come from your lessons during class today. Yeah that’s it. You were still just thinking about today's lecture during gender sciences because you shouldn’t be scenting. That’s something only done by alphas or—

“Who wants dessert?” You jumped up from the couch and headed into the kitchen. You heard footsteps behind you. Someone was following you. You didn’t need to turn and look thought. The sound of the footsteps, his smell, everything about him swirling around inside your very confused mind. 

You opened the freezer and didn’t realize how much you needed the relief of a cool breeze. Standing there with the door open for a moment after grabbing the tub of ice cream felt incredible.  

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice melted your insides. It sounded so soft and comforting, “Are you alright?”

You didn’t want to look at him for fear that just by making eye contact he would somehow know what you had wanted to do. Instead, you chuckled awkwardly and played it off, “Guess I’m just more tired than I thought.”

“No,” Eddie saw right through you, “I’ve seen you tired after a long day. That’s not what this is. Come here.”

Your mind and body were incapable of disobeying him. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, you turned on his command. Closing the freezer door and keeping your eyes locked with his feet. 

He touched your forehead. Eddie had never touched you before. All the nights you spent wondering what the tips of his fingers felt like finally answered. They were calloused from playing guitar, the palm of his hand rough, most likely from his job. But nothing had ever felt more natural. It was fleeting thought because he pulled back already. 

“Jesus Christ you’re burning up,” He went to the bathroom and returned the thermometer, “Holy shit 102?” He called for Robin. 

She came running and you vaguely heard him telling her to go get medicine from the bathroom. He lifted your chin, “You are taking medicine and going right to bed. Do you understand me? No work or class tomorrow for you either.”

“But–”

“I think you should listen to him,” Robin said as she returned followed by Chrissy and Steve to check on you. 

Standing became a labor. You braced yourself against the counter but Eddie caught you and lifted you into his arms. Robin opened the door for him as he carried you to your bed. Everything was starting to blur together. Somehow they made you take the medicine. You’re pretty sure Robin helped you change into some pajamas before you passed out on top of the comforter. That night you had your first dream of Eddie.

The next morning… afternoon? You weren’t sure until you blinked your eyes open. You felt awful. Your skin felt like it was on fire. If you were still running a fever that was not a sign. As soon as you summoned enough strength you ripped all your clothes off only to be horrified by what you felt on the bed beneath you. Your underwear, shorts and the top of the comforter were soaked. You brought your wet hand up to your face to inspect the source.

“Is that?” you spoke to the emptiness, “Slick?”

It should have been impossible. Everything you knew about biology was being thrown out the window and discarded to the wayside. Nothing made sense anymore. You had been and would always be a beta. And yet– your new and now ever present instincts told you otherwise. You were in heat. 

Grasping at the shred of rationality that you regained, you tried to remember everything you’ve ever learned about heats. You knew a few things for certain. One, it was only a matter of time because you were lost to your desires and unable to think about anything except mating. Two, you needed food so that you didn’t have to leave your room again until it subsided. Last? Only omegas experience heats which means that only an alpha would truly make you feel better. 

Tossing your wet clothing to the ground you wobbled naked like a newborn fawn towards your bedroom door. Dripping slick against your bare inner thighs as you tried to walk. You made it to the kitchen where, with fervent desperation, you dug through the cabinets for anything you could bring back with you. Then you went to Eddie’s room and without a second of hesitation opened the door. That was a horrible idea.

Where only the night before was just the scent of Eddie, now your brain was able to recognize it for what it was. Alpha.

Your knees buckled. It’s a miracle you didn’t fall over. Another rush of slick dripped from your aching hole. You didn’t have the luxury of considering whether he’d be upset that you were borrowing his clothes. You grabbed his leather jacket that he always wore outside of work from the bed and the few shirts that littered the floor. You could feel the fever returning. You needed to get back to your room. 

—

Eddie didn’t want to leave you that morning. He peeked inside your bedroom before heading to work and you were sound asleep.

Robin had taken care of your obligations for you. She called your work and emailed your professors saying you’d be out for a few days with a fever.

Eddie knew he should just go back home because he wasn’t much use here today anyways. He’d already made a ton of mistakes thanks to his distracted brain.

“Munson!” Murray called to him from the office, “Come here boy!”

“Shit,” he tossed the rag in his hand and readied himself for an ass chewing.

Murray looked up from the desk, “What’s wrong with you today? You handed me an order form for the wrong part. You charged someone triple for a simple oil change and now I just watched you checking the engine on a car that was brought in for headlight repair.”

“Sorry sir, my roommate’s pretty sick right now and I guess I’m just a little worried about her,” a little worried was an understatement. Eddie was panicking that you, the absolute divine love and light of his life, were going to die in his absence.

He sighed, “Just go. Before I change my mind.”

Eddie tore at the buttons on his coveralls and nearly tripped trying to walk and take them off at the same time, “Thanks Murray!”

“You owe me!” was the last thing Eddie heard before he ran out.

He kicked the stand up on his motorcycle and got quite a few stares from people on the street and he hauled ass back to the apartment. 

Normally he’d take the elevator up to your fourth floor apartment but in his mind his feet were faster and they’d carry him to you sooner. He was so focused on checking that you were still ok that he didn’t even feel winded after running up four flights of stairs. 

He fumbled with his keys as he walked down the hallway. Then it hit him. He dropped the keys. They clattered loudly to his feet. He was still several doors down from yours and he could already smell it. He scrambled to pick them up and ran down the hallway. 

His suspicions were confirmed as soon as he turned the key. That same sweetness that had greeted him everyday since the first time he opened that door to your smiling face, suffocated him. Though now it was a little different. It was sweeter. More you. Something he’d only ever dreamed of. An omega.

It got stronger with every step he took towards your room. He swallowed and failed to will away the hardness growing in his pants. All his hopes and dreams were answered when he pushed his way into your room. There on the bed in a very haphazardly constructed nest, naked, clinging to his jacket, surrounded by his clothes, and your brown stuffed bear, was you.

He inhaled deeply and could practically feel his pupils dilate with lust. You smelled so fucking good. He took another step and spoke quietly trying not to startle you, “Hey sweetheart.” 

—

It hurt so bad. The ache between your thighs only worsened as you curled into the small nest you’d surrounded yourself with. The underwear you’d stolen from Eddie lost its scent long ago but you still pulled it out and threw it in the pile. The few items you were able to grab from his room were a mere wooden board in the dam against the rushing river that threatened to drown you at any moment.

You didn’t hear the front door open.

Your senses became more clouded with each passing minute. You clung for dear life to Eddie’s leather jacket but it betrayed you as it started to cling back now that it was damp with your sweat.

The click of your bedroom door knob alerted you and brought you back. Maybe it wasn’t the door. Maybe it was the smell or the sound of his voice as he spoke to you. You lifted your head and couldn’t stop the tears when you saw Eddie standing there at the foot of your bed.

“A-alpha? It hurts,” 

Something awoke within Eddie. The deepest part of himself he’d never been able to fully satisfy. All those ruts spent uselessly humping into his hand or a pillow. “Again,” He growled, “Say it again little one!”

Your eyes pleaded with him as you whined, “A-alpha?” You pressed the jacked to your chest. How was he here? He was supposed to be working. Your fever must have taken over you and you were starting to hallucinate, “F-fuck, alpha, need you. Are you really here?”

The bed shifted, “I know, I know. I’m here now, sweet omega. I’m here.” He laid behind you and wrapped his long arms around you. “‘m so sorry I left sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere now.”

His presence eased the ache a bit. He rubbed your neck with his hand and whispered in your ear, “You smell so good, could smell you from the hallway.”

He felt you shudder with panic, “R-really?”

“Shh! No, don't worry. I locked the door and only other alphas or omegas would be able to smell it,” he leaned in closer, “Can I kiss you? It might help you feel better.”

You nodded but didn’t feel anything on your lips. He kissed your neck. Sparks of pure pleasure shot through your body. You whimpered helpless against the feeling, “Fuck more Eddie! More! Kiss me more, please!”

He couldn’t deny that his heart had wanted to hear those words since he first laid eyes on you but he knew it was just the heat talking. He also knew if he started he wouldn’t be able to stop, “I want to more than you know princess but, I don’t want you to hate me when you're more lucid.”

His kiss had breathed new life into you and gave you the energy to turn to face him, “I’d never hate you Eddie.” You reached into the piled up fabric that you had built up around you and pulled out the green plaid boxers, “D’you lose something?” you could feel your speech slurring.

“D-did you take my underwear?” his fingers curled and tickled against you lightly drawing out little giggles.

You grinned up at him with glassy eyes, “Sure did. Sniffed ‘em too.”

His palm came to rest on your hip and he ran his fingers up the curve of your waist. Then back down again. Savoring every dip, ridge, and shape your body created as it lay before him, “Did they help you feel better?”

“Nuh uh,” he was misunderstanding, “I took these a while ago. So see? Wouldn’t hate you. Want you.”

He kissed you again, on the lips this time, “I want you too. Shit, you taste so good. I wonder how you taste other places.”

He pressed his elbow up, giving him leverage to sit up and tear his shirt off. Next he was up hovering over you on his knees. You watched him, taking in every single one of his movements. He unzipped his pants and slid them down his hips. His thick length was barely contained by the fabric of his boxers. He was less than graceful as he shook them off. 

He straddled your legs and lowered himself towards your neck again, so close to your skin that his chest grazed your exposed nipples as he turned you to rest on your back beneath him. His mouth was in your ear whispering, “I can see it in your eyes sweetheart, the heat is getting worse. Can you tell me what you need before that smart ass brain of yours is just mush, begging for my knot?”

“F-fuck me Eddie,” you looked up at him and knew even in your current state that your words had affected him. “P-please.”

“That’s all I needed to hear sweetheart,” he kissed you again. First on the lips. Devouring your moans, wet noises growing as you felt yourself drooling into him because of how good he tasted. Your slick lips gliding against his. He moved lower onto your neck and kissed the crook just above your shoulder, “This might be a little sensitive here but I promise it’ll feel good.” He sucked on your skin and in that instant you were writhing.

“Ah! A-alpha,” somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind you knew that he was sucking on the spot that both of your latent instincts told you was where he should bite down and bond himself to you. Where if he gave into his desires and bit down just a little harder you’d forever be his and only his. Bearing his mating mark for the world to see. As he continued sucking with just his lips and licking with his tongue that was suddenly all you ever wanted, “Mate me alpha! All yours, please!” 

He puffed out his chest. His shoulders flexed. The muscles in his back tightened as he growled again into your neck. Straining to fight off every instinct that told him to give you what you wanted. His hand gripped the wooden frame of your bed so tightly you heard the wood begin to splinter and crack. “Maybe after your heat sweetheart. Such a good girl, my sweet little omega, all these big new feelings. Don’t you worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Throwing your head back you let the dam break, “N-need your knot alpha, Hurts. Make it stop.”

“You’re not quite ready for my knot yet baby. Gotta make sure I don’t hurt you.”

But you were an omega? That’s literally what your body was made for, why couldn’t you take him? First he wouldn’t mate you and now he won’t knot you? Were you a bad omega? He sensed your distress in the subtle change in your scent. He buried his face into your neck again, surrounding you with himself. 

“You’re not bad! No no,” you didn’t even realize you’d said that out loud. He continued to soothe you, “It's just…I’ve never knotted anyone before and I don’t want to hurt you.”

You brought your hands up to his chest and touched him everywhere your fingers could reach, “Won’t hurt me. I know. Too gentle.” 

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of you. The weight of his body pressing into nearly every surface of your skin was intoxicating. Grounding you with his scent and his very presence. You’d pulled him into the perfect position to nuzzle into his neck and hair, kissing the same spot that he has just assaulted on you with his tongue. A warm feeling bubbled in your gut. This was different from the warmth of the heat. Then a sound hit both of your ears.

A sound that gave both of you delighted pause. The little noise that escaped your throat was somewhere between a whimper and a moan but something so uniquely omega. Eddie had never heard a more beautiful sound. You were purring. 

He let you keep going but whispered into your ear, “You’re fucking perfect you know that?” you purred louder, “I’m going to make you come with my fingers and then I’ll give you my knot, ok?”

“Yes alpha! Thank you,” you whined as he pulled away but his hands never stopped touching you. He made his way down to the drenched area between your thighs.

“You look so beautiful for me sweetheart, you’re fucking soaked,” he moaned as his fingers began toying with your wetness and dipping in between the folds of your pussy. You encouraged him with all the moans and whines he could ever hope to hear. As soon as he deemed you thoroughly worked up, he finally slipped a finger in, quickly followed by another. They worked together pumping in and out fluidly, curling inside you, pressing all the right buttons. You wanted to thank him but all that would come out was broken bits and pieces of alpha and his name. 

His hair brushed lightly against your inner thighs, sending shivers through your core as he lowered his head down. He spoke with a low hum right into your entrance, “You’re close. I can feel it. Let go for me sweet omega. I’ll take good care of you.”

One more curl of his fingers hitting that delicious soft spongy spot inside you had you screaming and convulsing as slick rushed out into his hand and surely getting some on his face. His fingers pulled out and were replaced with something wet and soft. You could feel his nose nudging at your aching clit as he licked up all your wetness with his tongue. It slid up from the hole and flicked your clit over and over again causing the muscles in your calf to twitch.

“K-knot alpha! Knot please, ‘m ready. So empty, hurts!”

He sucked on your clit before pulling away and lifted to release his throbbing cock from his boxers. You looked up at it, marveling at how impressive his length looked. The tip swollen and aching for you just as you ached for him. The shaft veins pulsed as he pumped himself with his wet hand, covering it in your scent and juices. The base just barely began to flare out as his knot already started to swell. He lined up the tip with your begging cunt and teased you as much as his self control would allow before slowly and carefully pressing all the way inside.

You cried out for him, “So good! More, more, more! Move alpha please!”

He couldn’t hold back anymore. Feeling his cock sheathed inside his omega’s pussy was too much. He began fucking into you with reckless abandon, each thrust hitting deep within your body, catching ever so slightly as his knot continued to swell. He grunted loudly, “Fuck! “M’gonna fill you up so good little omega. Gonna breed this beautiful pussy,” his instincts were now fully in control. His mind became almost as clouded as yours with nothing but want and desire to fulfill the purpose of your heat, “You’ll look so good knocked up sweetheart. Tits all big and heavy. My omega, mine!” 

You echoed him, “Yours alpha! All yours! Breed me, wanna carry your baby! Please, please please,” you cries became so desperate and emotional as you begged and pleaded for him to give you something you’d wanted as long as you could remember. Tears fell from your tired eyes, “Make me a mommy alpha!”

“Yeah?” he looked down at you. Beads of sweat from his constant thrusting formed on his forehead. His bangs curled and swooshed out in every direction, “Beg for my knot again omega, tell me how much you want it!”

Your body was jostling up and down from his thick cock fucking into you harder and harder. Your senses became overwhelmed with the feeling of your alpha’s cock, his scent, his words, his love all around you. You could feel how much bigger his knot had gotten, your voice was wrecked, “Knot alpha, need it, knot me!”

Eddie came with a loud growl. You’d never felt so full. Your walls pulsated around him as you came again. He slammed his knot deep inside you, locking you together with him, forming a connection that as you floated down from your orgasm fully took shape in your mind.

“Eddie?” you looked into his warm brown eyes, “Th-thank–”

“Shh, we can talk later baby. Rest while you can,” he held a finger to your lips, “Once my knot goes down I’ll get you some water and something to eat. You’ll need it again soon so we both need to rest.”

Being locked together with him felt so right but it limited your movement. Twisting your torso you looked around the nest for the box of granola bars you’d grabbed earlier, “I,” words were still hard and your breath was labored, “box here somewhere.”

He looked around and spotted the corner of the box on the floor. He pictured what you must have done when you realized what was happening to you, knowing what you’d need, “You did such a good job. Now it’s my turn, we’ve got a long few days ahead of us. My first rut lasted three days.”

You chuckled, eyes closed, a blissful fucked out smile on your lips, “W-we might need more food.”

“I’m not leaving you again, I’ll have Rob drop some stuff off.”

You didn’t talk anymore after that. In fact you fell asleep with his knot still inside you. He kissed your forehead before pulling out when it finally went down, “Sleep my little omega.” He left the nest just long enough to text Robin and his boss, updating them and then curled up behind you, rubbing his face into your neck again. Picturing how good your throat would look with his mating mark on it before falling asleep beside you.

[moremaybank]

THIS LOVE — j.m

pairing actor!jj maybank x actress!reader

chapter summary jj faces the possibility of his scandal going public. then, he ends up reconnecting with you after five years. what happens when the two of you end up as costars for your upcoming romantic comedy?

warnings mentions of a sex tape, mentions of domestic abuse (jj and luke), language, violence, sexual content/eventual smut, anxiety. ex best friends to lovers, fake dating. this will be updated as the story develops. [2.2k]

author's note just a little post of the first chapter to build the hype! hope you enjoy and decide to continue reading ♡︎ also special s/o to @mvybanks and @jjsbank444 for beta reading and quelling my nerves <3

recommended listening second chances by kiana ledé ft. 6lack

this love — the complete playlist ;; the masterlist ;; the tag list

❝ CHAPTER ONE ❞

JJ

Threesomes are fun. Foursomes, however, are a blast. 

At least, JJ Maybank seems to think so. 

“You have three different women threatening to release your sex tape. It’s not a good look for you, JJ.”

Well, he does when they don’t include a secretly-filmed sex tape and three fame-thirsty girls trying to ruin his career for a quick cash grab. 

“It’s not like they’re three separate tapes. We were all together when it was made,” JJ smirks. 

Josh, his manager, lets out an exasperated sigh. “That doesn’t make things any better, and it does nothing to help our circumstances. You need to clean up your act and you need to start doing it now, Maybank, or you’re going to lose everything.”

JJ rolls his eyes for what feels like the millionth time in the fifteen minutes that this meeting has been going on. It’s bullshit, really. He’s one of the hottest actors in Hollywood right now. He’s youthful, dashingly handsome, and loaded. The world is his freakin’ oyster, and he deserves to have some fun.

“You’re supposed to keep up your whole approachable, goofy, boy-next-door image intact, and having a ménage à…quatre, is not the way to do it.” my publicist, Andrea, chimes in. “If you aren’t careful, you’re going to lose your entire fanbase. You’re one of the most universally-liked celebrities in the business, right now. If this gets out, you’re going to have to kiss your crystal clear reputation goodbye.”

“So, let’s just pay ‘em the hush money. What do I care?” JJ says, taking his cap off and running a hand through his unruly strands.

“And you’re fine with forking over ten million dollars? Just like that?” Andrea scowls. “What if they take the money and still decide to release the tape? Or demand more?”

“Then we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, Andrea. Now, are we done here? I’m supposed to meet my co-star for my new movie in an hour and I’d really like to get in another — how did you put it? Ah, yes. Ménage á quatre — before I go.”

Josh runs a hand over his face, “Do you care about anything anymore?” 

JJ ignores his statement, putting his hat back on and sitting up in his chair. “Can I leave?”

He can tell that Josh wants to scold him or make some witty remark in return, but he bites his tongue. 

“Go. And, please, for the love of all things holy, do not screw this up.” 

If JJ had a penny for every time he’s heard that, he’d be richer than Jeff fucking Bezos.

-

Y/N

“And last but not least, this is your dressing room. You’ll have your own trailer, but this is more for when we’re actually on set and in between takes.”

You grin as you look around the luxurious room. There’s a huge vanity in front of you, as well as some plush couches, and you don’t fail to notice the large mini-fridge in the corner of the room or the flat-screen TV plastered onto the wall. There’s a window as well, letting in the California sunshine you’ve come to love and appreciate beyond your beliefs.

“Wow, this is…amazing. I can’t thank you guys enough for this opportunity. I’m so grateful, I hope you know that.”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N. You’re the very reason we wanted to do this project in the first place. If anything, we’re the lucky ones,” Derek, the director states with a grin. “So, you ready to meet your co-star, or what?”

“Yeah! I mean, I’m nervous, but, beyond excited.”

Derek leads you back into the hallway, and you make your way to one of the offices. 

“I think you’ll love him. Word is, he comes from the Outer Banks just like you. Who knows, you’ve probably met him in passing.”

Wait…what? He’s from OBX? No. No way. He couldn’t possibly mean—

“Y/N Y/L/N, meet the esteemed JJ Maybank,” Derek states, his proud smile growing sizeably larger than you thought possible. 

It doesn’t matter how excited he is, though. All you can focus on is your heart beating out of your chest and the ringing in your ears. You see Derek’s lips moving but you can’t hear a thing. Your eyes are caught on the blonde in front of you, and all you can think about is how painful it is to look into those oceanic eyes after five years.

It’s equally as painful as it was the last time you saw him. If not, more.

“Uh— Y/N, I…it’s— it’s been a while,” JJ stutters out. 

It’s all too much. Seeing him here, in front of you. His eyes locked on yours, his hand reaching out to touch you but retracting once he notices the fear in your gaze. Your eyes flit over to Derek, whose face has a more than confused look painted over his features. 

“Excuse me, Derek, I— I need to get out of here.” 

You speed into the restroom, locking the door behind you and setting your hands on the counter. Your chest tightens, and your breathing speeds up. She shudders, trying to shake it out as the room starts to feel like it’s closing in on you.

“You’re okay. You’re okay. You can do this. Don’t let him get to you,” you say, staring at yourself in the mirror. “It’s just…it’s just JJ.”

You feel the tears start to well in your eyes and you watch as they overtake their boundaries and roll down your flushed cheeks. You’re quick to wipe them away, though, refusing to admit defeat. 

“Stop,” you tell yourself. “It’s been five years. You’re better than this.”

You aren’t sure if the words are true to your heart, because all you can think about is how the boy you loved from the ages seven to eighteen — the one who betrayed you and shattered you into a million pieces — is now your co-star for the romantic comedy you’ve just been cast in.

What could possibly go wrong?

A lot, you think. A lot could go wrong. 

JJ

JJ watches as you make your way back into Derek’s office, shooting him a convincing smile.

“My apologies, Derek. Girl troubles,” you say. 

JJ still knows you well enough to see that you’re hoping Derek will believe your bullshit excuse. 

“Oh, uh, no worries at all, Y/N. I completely understand. I’ve got three daughters at home,” he speaks, trying to assure you that everything is fine. He places this hand on JJ’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. “JJ, here, was just telling me how the two of you have known each other since you were in elementary school. It must be quite the hell of a reunion, huh?”

You plaster a fake grin onto your lips, “One hell of a reunion, indeed.”

JJ refuses to look at you, his ex-best friend, and vice-versa. Truthfully, he’s terrified to catch your eye again. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to form a coherent sentence if he does. 

“Well, I’ve got some stuff to take care of, so I’ll leave you two to catch up.”

Derek exits his office, and you and JJ are left in complete and utter silence.

God, JJ missed you so much. He’d seen you making headlines just as you always said you would, but he was always quick to click away, deciding not to dwell on everything he’d lost. But this, now, seeing you right in front of him as gorgeous as ever…it made the walls he’d worked so hard to put up begin to crack. 

Then again, you’d always had that effect on him. 

Even after all these years, he was still a complete wreck over you. You held his heart in the palm of your hand and he wasn’t even sure if you knew it.

Your scent was still etched into his mind, still buzzing deep within his senses and his memory. You smelled of the saltwater beaches of the Outer Banks. The notes of coconut from the shampoo he’d recognized still lingering in the tresses of your hair. The sweet hints of vanilla that clutched to your skin are prominent as ever. The combination sounds like a lot, and it was, but not in the overpowering way one would assume. They blended into one heavenly and unique fragrance. 

She smelled like her, he thought. She smelled like home. 

To be honest, JJ wasn’t sure whether or not this was a reminder he wanted to welcome with open arms, but either way, here it was. Here you were. After the way he’d hurt you and destroyed your relationship forever. 

After he lost himself. 

Funnily enough, you’d always had a way of popping up whenever he needed and longed for you. He never even had to speak a single word. You just always knew. And you might not have guessed it now, but he needed you more than he ever had before.

JJ scratches his brow with his index finger. “So, um…how have you been?” 

“Don’t. Just…don’t.”

“Y/N, please,” he pleads. He almost wants to get down on his knees and beg. You can’t even look at him, and that hurts more than he could ever put into words.

“No. I don’t wanna hear it. I’m fine with being professional while we film this movie, but I’m not getting into this with you. I’m not getting into any of it.”

JJ remains silent, choosing to nod because he’s not totally sure he can find his voice. 

As much as he hated to let the thought in, you were a walking reminder of every bad decision he’d made since he left the island and never looked back. He looked at you, and he saw two things. The first being the crinkling of your bright eyes when you smiled. The melodic laugh he could pull from your lips at a moment’s notice. Your hair blowing in the wind as you stuck your head out the window of John B’s Twinkie. And the second being the look of despise and pain on your face as you confronted him. The mascara-stained tears flowing down your heated cheeks. The way you walked away from him and deliberately chose not to look back and steal a second glance at him. 

How was he expected to act all suave and cool when you were right there in front of him, actively choosing not to even look in his direction?

Truth is, he doesn’t think he can. 

-

JJ glances at his phone once he leaves the production office still shaken by the day’s events. 

2 Missed FaceTime Calls from John B

JJ swipes to the right and watches as his phone rings, awaiting his best friend’s answer while he plops down on the steps in front of the building. The line rings for a few moments before he hears shuffling through the speaker, followed by John B’s face appearing on his screen.

“Hey, man. how was your meeting? Your new costar as hot as we imagined?”

JJ tears his eyes away from the camera, his lip sinking between his teeth. His complexion pales, and John B picks up on it. 

“Jeez. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Because I have,” JJ deadpans. He’s still reeling from your presence, and it shows.

“Huh?”

“It’s Y/N…my costar is Y/N.”

“Ooh, yikes,” John B responds. “Did she nut-punch you?”

“It’s not funny.” 

JJ tugs his cap off as he always does when he’s stressed, and his fingers card through his hair. He tugs lightly at the strands as he tries to alleviate the tension building up in his head. 

“She couldn’t even look at me, John B. Her eyes were on me for all of five seconds before she made an excuse to go to the bathroom. Then, when she came back, she looked at everything but me. She barely even let me speak to her.”

“Well, to be fair, you guys didn’t exactly leave things on the best of terms.”

“Yeah, JB. I know. Thanks for the reminder, as if I didn’t fucking know that already.”

“All right, look. Did you fuck up majorly? Yeah. But the love the two of you had…it ran deep. It doesn’t just disappear without a trace, especially if things are this heated after five years. I think you can get her to forgive you.” 

JJ scoffs, “Yeah? And how do you suppose I do that?”

John B gives him a knowing look through the screen. 

“You have to tell her the truth, JJ.”

“Funny.”

“J,” John B mildly scolds. “The reason she hates you right now is because you weren’t honest with her. The JJ she knew before that night never would’ve treated her the way you did. Buck up. Tell her.”

The call disconnects, and JJ is left staring at his screen with a tense jaw. He knew John B was right. He was always right. But how on earth was he expected to muster up the courage and tell you the truth about that night? He doubted — no. He knew it’d be impossible to convince you to hear him out. 

Then again, he also knew he had to try. Because he couldn’t stand to be around you nearly every single day for the next few months, knowing that you wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire.

jj tag list: @pankowperfection @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @maybank-archives @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @pankhoeforlife @cecesrings @wildflwrdarlin @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @topper-thornton @em0-b0ysworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah @peachpitlover @pinkpantheris @julesmendoza890 @emmalandry @blueicequeen19 @madelynie

[pinkdaisies9285]

Be My Baby

Jake Seresin x F!Reader (Callsign: Circe)

Warnings: Fluff, kinda Angst reader is making big girl decisions

Word Count: 1822

Author's Note: Yay new part! I decided to post this a little early. Reader really is going through it but don't worry the fluff will truly happen soon! Again, thank you to my lovely beta readers for reading through my rough draft and dealing with me! Enjoy!

You woke up with a jolt from the shrill noise of your alarm. Nonchalantly, you lean over and turn it off with a small sigh. 

It was Saturday, so you didn’t have to see Jake for at least two full days. Enough time to sort out your feelings and create a plan to either tell him how you feel or get over him. The more you think about it, the more you want to curl into a ball. Did you really want to forget about your feelings? Jake was everything to you and more. 

Yes, he was known not to have actual relationships but there was a part of you that hoped you could change that. Prove to him that one-night stands don’t have to be the standard for naval men. He could be with you and enjoy a great relationship. Maybe you were in over your head about this. Just thinking about it made you feel like you were going crazy, your chest making you feel like you were having a heart attack from the amount of emotions raging through you.

It made you think about how you were before you met Jake. You were known to be able to complete missions with ease; you never had any problems during training or the actual mission. It was magical some would say, which is how you got the callsign of Circe. Greek goddess of magic. When you heard that name for the first time it made you feel powerful. To be compared to a goddess was great for your confidence. Something that you didn't have a lot of when you weren’t in the sky.

It was that same callsign that was also one of the first reasons why you were doubtful about being with Jake. When Jake first met you, he asked for your callsign. You, being too enamored by his looks and slight southern drawl, missed the question completely. This resulted in Jake laughing at you and joking if you were actually a pilot. Feeling flustered, you quickly defended yourself about your skills and callsign. 

No one had made you feel unsettled like that since your elementary school show-and-tell where you got nervous and the entire class laughed at you. That day was still ingrained in your mind, the pit in your stomach that developed as more kids laughed at you, the clammy hands that you kept wiping on your bright pink pants, and the heat that graced your cheeks. All the emotions you felt as a kid were the ones you felt when Jake laughed about your lack of a response. 

After being embarrassed about your callsign, you spent the rest of the night at the Hard Deck sitting next to Bob and becoming friends with the quiet WSO. He let you know that Jake just liked to get under people’s skin. That wasn’t what made you flustered during the interaction, though, it was his green eyes staring into yours. They reminded you of the meadows you would explore as a kid. They were so full of emotion that didn’t match his cocky tone and facial expression. It made you curious about the egoistical pilot that Bob described as an asshole because must be more to him than getting on his coworkers’ nerves and taking home tag chasers from the bar. 

After the callsign mishap, you began to seek out Jake wanting to get to know him. The first time you did it, was at the mess hall three days after being transferred to San Diego and being added into the Dagger Squad. You had marched up to the table where Jake was sitting and asked if you could sit with him. “Sure why not? I would love to get to know more about the magical pilot that has been added to the squad.” He said this with that same cocky grin he had from the night at the Hard Deck. 

So you mustered up some courage and you sat down with your plate. You and Jake asked each other questions ranging from where you went for flight school to more personal things like your favorite novels and movies. You learned that Jake had an older sister and a niece that he spoils rotten. You also learned that he was closer to his mom than his dad. When he told you this it seemed like there was more to it but you didn't pry. 

In return, you told him about your dog, Electra, and how you were raised by your grandparents because your parents passed away when you were young. Your family life wasn't something that you told many people about but felt comfortable telling Jake. Before either of you noticed, it was time to get back to work. 

That conversation with Jake left you thinking about him every night. How he listened when you were talking. How he was very expressive when mentioning his sister and niece. Everything about him seemed more complex than what the naked eye could see, and this conversation shed light on that. It made you feel like admiring the man didn’t sound as bad as some had conjured it up to be. That feeling only continued growing when Jake decided to seek you out almost every day in the mess hall after your silly little game of 20 Questions. He sat with you and continued to learn more about you. It made you feel special and wanted, yet it always went down the drain when he went home with a new woman every Friday at the Hard Deck. It confused you that Jake would talk and what seemed like flirting with you during the week but then turn around and pick up some leggy girl that looks his direction at the bar. 

This same confusion was what you decided to sort out your feelings this weekend. Whether it was confessing your feelings or burying them six feet into the ground, you would be tearing your heart out for Jake. 

Finally getting up for the day, you padded over to your bathroom to take a shower. You turned on your speaker while the shower was heating up. Putting your hand under the stream, content with the temperature, you step in. Humming along with the music, you think about the pros and cons surrounding Jake. 

If you know how to be my lover.  

Pro: Jake seemed like he could be a great lover if he got the chance.

Pro: Every time he flirted with you at lunch, he used the smoothest lines that made you feel important. 

Maybe you can be my baby. 

That important feeling was something that gave you hope that he would respond to your confession in the way you wanted. 

Hold me close under the covers. 

Con: yet, when you think about every Friday at the Hard Deck, where Jake ignores you and goes for the first tag chaser that looks his way, and it crushes that hope that he would reciprocate your feelings. 

By the time you go through all the other pros and cons on your mental list, the water was starting to get cold. You quickly hopped out of the shower, before you started drying off to finish your routine before you made your way to the kitchen to pop a bagel into the toaster. While waiting for that, you quickly make a cup of iced coffee with the new coffee machine your grandma gave you for Christmas. 

Thinking about your grandmother, you wonder if she would like Jake. Would he use his Southern charm to convince her that he was worthy of you? Or would your grandma see right through him and know that he had a playboy reputation? 

The sound of the toaster popping up the bagel shook you out of your thoughts. Quickly preparing it the way you’ve done since you were ten, you sat down in the living room. You alternated between taking bites out of your bagel and sipping your coffee. Could you figure out what to do about your feelings for Jake? The more you thought about it, the more your anxiety spiked. 

Now finished with your brunch, you decided to walk around the block. You were going through every single habit you had that helped calm your nerves. Shrugging on a light jacket and locking the door, you began your small jaunt around the neighborhood. It was full of small houses that were occupied by military couples, families, and officers. You never had time to interact with your neighbors except when you did these walks to clear your mind. It was always small talk but it allowed you to have some interaction with people outside of your circle. While walking today you waved to the sweet couple that just recently had their first kid. Every time you saw them, you imagined yourself in their shoes with Jake. Happy with some kind of family with him, whether that was a kid or a pet. 

Moments like this made you feel like you should try to reach out to him and make him see what you could offer. See that you could make an actual relationship worth it.

By now, you were halfway around the neighborhood, but not wanting to finish your walk so soon, you decided to walk into an area you weren’t as familiar with. You began going back to the pros of why you should admit your feelings to Jake. 

Pro: you thought that you were a great catch in many ways: a great pilot, a solid cook, and most men you have dated in the past thought you pretty attractive. But what was it that made you not noticeable to Jake besides being coworkers? Were you really “one of the guys?” 

All these questions made your head spin.

“Circe?” the voice made you shoot up your head quickly. There stood Jake with a surprised look on his face. He was out of uniform, wearing a tight black t-shirt with jeans. You loved seeing him in regular clothes, it made you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. 

“Oh, hi, Jake,” you said nervously. “I didn’t know you lived here?”

“I just moved in recently. I got tired of the barracks,” he replied while putting his hands in his pockets.

“Ahh, that makes sense. The barracks aren’t the greatest,” you said nodding.

“Would you like to come in?” He asked while gesturing to the door.

“Sure,” you walked up to him and followed him inside. If you were nervous before, then this feeling was even worse. You were walking into a territory you've never been in before. Yet, it made you realize that this might be the best time to confess. 

If you did this now and it failed, you would have at least one day to mourn your feelings and begin moving on. 

If it goes well, then this would be a new turning point. 

It was now or never. 

Tag List: @nerdgirljen @just-in-case-iloveyou @tgmreader @jessicab1991 @gaysnowrose @mamaskillerqueen @waywardhunter95 @minejungwoo @djs8891 @mrsevans90

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Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Divider Credit: @cafekitsune

[firein-thesky]

Act II

|| kaeya alberich x afab!reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort/fluff || wc: 37k || ao3 || masterlist || Act III -> coming soon! ||

When you, a beloved artist and performer of Mondstadt, attract the attention of the Fatui, there is only one person you seek out for help; the infamous Cavalry Captain of the Ordo Favonius, Mondstadt's beloved bastard.

minors and ageless blogs dni, 18+ only

❀ give me a world masterlist ❀

❀ for you are the world (as i am in pieces) - @lorelune ❀

a/n: hello! i am two days late, but here is the second act!! instead of splitting into multiple parts/posts, i just linked the ao3 at the bottom to continue reading! 37k is actually insane of me. i struggled a great deal with this act and it was the source of a lot of frustration but...i am ultimately happy with how it turned out <33 big shout out to my buddies @lorelune who helped me a lot and beta-ed parts, as well as @suguwu who beta-ed and gave me some great feedback on this act, and finally, @acerathia for beta-ing and giving me feedback as well! i am very appreciative of all your help! also please go check out lore's lovely diluc fic linked above as part of this collab!! without further ado, here is act ii! i would love to hear your feedback!! your thoughts!! your predictions! anything! thank you all for reading and i hope you enjoy <3

tags: afab reader (she/her pronouns but is rather gender fluid/binds her chest sometimes and presents both femme and masc), alcohol use, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of stalking/full on stalking from the fatui to the reader, smut, oral (f!receiving), use of "good girl", friends with benefits, somewhat unclear and messy dynamics, mentions of heartbreak/abandonment issues, bodyguard au technically, fake dating au technically, angst, hurt/comfort

SCENE I

Somewhere dark and stone, dripping, and cave-like. Shadows press and shudder and shift. This is an unknown place and sharply different to Mondstadt’s gold and sky. Confined and cold. Each sound should echo softly or loudly, should repeat itself over and over again. 

Kaeya moves with his back to us, slipping among the darkness as if he might belong there. 

Kaeya has spent nearly an entire day attempting to tail one of the Fatui members he knows is keeping tabs on you. There’s three, he believes, and they rotate in shifts, much like he, Diluc, Jean, and Venti rotate being near you. 

For the first time in a long time, he hasn’t spent his entire day with you. Nor the previous. Venti stayed with you in your own home and now you’re with Jean. 

He hates to admit it, but he’s become rather accustomed to watching over you. 

But he needs answers for you, so he’s been running all over the city, searching for their reasoning. 

This is the closest he’s gotten to a new discovery; this ruin beneath the earth, ducking and weaving through an old, stone crypt of some sort. 

He realizes rather quickly it must be some secret meeting place for the Fatui in the city, especially those dealing with the Abyss Order.  

The narrow hall opens up into a larger space where an old desk, piled with papers and maps sits under lantern light. Shadows grow large and spindly on the floor. On the stone walls are photos and torn notebook paper, pinned and plastered together, a collage of secrets. 

Kaeya peers carefully from his hiding spot to get a better look. 

He wants to look at that desk, all the information atop it. He’s certain there must be something there of use, even a greater hint. But he needs this member to leave. 

Kaeya picks up a stone, smooth and cool to the touch. He has to play this carefully. 

There’s an adjacent hallway across this room. It leads to further darkness. And with the Fatui member’s back turned to him, facing the desk, if he can aim well enough, he’ll be able to–

Kaeya throws the stone and watches it sail through the air, finding it’s mark as it clatters into the bend of the wall down the hallway. He flattens himself to his own wall, waiting and listening. 

“Who's there?” The Fatui member calls and Kaeya holds his breath.

“Hello?” Again, before he hears their footsteps stride towards the hallway Kaeya had thrown the stone in and away from him. 

He waits as they retreat, deeper and deeper, echoing softly. 

He knows he won’t have much time now. 

As silently and quickly as possible, he rushes to the desk. His eye flies over all of the papers and maps and scribbling notes. 

Your name jumps out to him. He skims. 

Vision: Pyro 

Strength: Low

Intelligence: High

-Not a fighter

-Use discretion; known and beloved by Mondstadt and other nations. 

Kaeya searches harder, shuffling through the papers a little. 

There’s a ledger with all the places you’d gone, every single day. There are notes about where best to kidnap you and Kaeya’s stomach sours as he reads words like use force. And torture if necessary. 

But what is it they think you know? What would they need to torture out of you? 

He moves another piece of paper, only to catch sight of something that makes his heart stop. 

Your diary. 

There’s no mistaking it. He’d know it anywhere now. 

How do they have this? It should’ve been in his home or safe with you. 

Horror sweeps through him–they don’t–they couldn’t have taken you, could they? 

You’re with Jean, he tries to rationalize. Had you hidden your diary again? Had they found it? 

If you hid it, had you snuck away from Venti or Jean in the last day or so? His mind spins sharply. 

Footsteps echo. 

He’s out of time. 

He disappears down his own hallway, heart ricketing in his chest wildly. If they had you, would you be here? Should he search? Is he being unreasonable? 

He’ll go to Jean first. 

Use force. 

You’ll be with Jean. And if you’re not, Jean will organize a rescue party. He’s found their hideout. 

Torture if necessary. 

Kaeya breaks the surface of the world with a new urgency. The day is melting into evening and the light nearly blinds him a moment as he stumbles out. He doesn’t have time, he breaks into a sprint. His mind flashes hotly, imagines he wish he could never conjure. Images of you tied up, bloody, beaten–

He runs towards the city gates fast and hard. 

Strength: Low 

He shouldn’t have pawned you off on others–he should’ve stayed beside you. This whole time. He should’ve had Diluc look for the Fatui, he shouldn’t have bid you goodbye yesterday. He should’ve checked in with you. 

His ribs ache, his legs burn. He doesn’t stop. 

What was he thinking? You’re practically a sitting duck. He knows this. 

Not a fighter. 

You wouldn’t stand a chance against them. What if Jean is already searching for him because you’ve been taken? He imagines bursting into the city to find her or Venti or Diluc, with some pale look on their face. 

The knights on watch must know something is wrong as he runs beneath the gates–they call after him, but don’t stop him. 

“Where’s Jean?” He barks to the one trying to catch up to him. 

“Headquarters, I think!” 

Kaeya veers sharply for Headquarters. 

He prays he’ll burst through the door and find you there, with Jean. You’ll be pestering her as the sun sets, chirping and flitting around her office while she tries to get paperwork done. You’ll be there, he tries to tell himself, you will be. They must’ve just nicked your diary. 

He throws open the door to Headquarters, rounds the corner and bursts into Jean’s office. Jean is standing on the opposite side of her desk, back facing Kaeya and–

You’re nowhere to be found. 

His stomach drops. 

“Jean,” he says her name sharply, a note of desperation. “Where is she?” 

Jean turns, startled by his appearance, by his urgency, but–

“I left her with Venti. They said they were going to Angel’s Share to perform some songs.” Jean steps towards him, “why? What’s wrong?” 

“They have her diary.” Kaeya gets out, rushing out the door of her office. 

“Kaeya!” She barks after him, but he’s already pushing his way out of Headquarters. He won’t rest, not until he sees you, until you’re right in front of him. “What are you–where was her diary?” 

“I don’t know,” Kaeya snaps, taking stairs two at a time, “I thought it was at my apartment but she’s always hiding it and–” He breaks into another run, heading towards the tavern, “when did you leave her with Venti?” 

“I don’t know,” Jean gets out, keeping pace with him, “a few hours ago, maybe? I had a lot to do–” 

Kaeya curses under his breath. 

“I still don’t know what they want with her but–their notes were about using force. Or–” he can’t get the word out. “They think she knows something.” 

“About what?” 

“I don’t know.” Kaeya bites out. 

He rounds the corner to Angel’s Share sharply and Jean takes it with him. 

“I’m sure she’ll be here with Venti.” Jean gets out, attempting to be calm with him. She’s attempting to be a leader. 

Kaeya throws open the door, gaze flying across the room and–

He doesn’t see you. 

His blood runs cold. 

For once, he wishes it was Diluc at the bar, but it’s Charles. 

“Has Venti been here?” And then he asks for you, too, says your name with a shot voice. 

Charles shakes his head, “haven’t seen either of them at all today. They were supposed to play music tonight, I think–” 

Kaeya doesn’t let him finish. He rushes out. 

He has half a mind to start shouting like a lunatic for you, all over the city, wandering like a mad man with your name a cry on his lips. 

“Maybe they went to her house before–” Jean tries to rationalize, but he can tell she is beginning to fret, too. 

Kaeya is already ahead of her, rushing towards your home on the hill in the city. He can’t help his pace, the run he breaks into again. He tries to think of you throwing open the door, laughing at his worry. Where else would you be? He wants to hear you say. 

But when he pounds on the door, there is no answer. Not a peep. Your little space is quiet. 

“Do you have a key?” Jean asks, but Kaeya doesn’t have the time. 

He takes a step back only to kick in the door easily, letting it fly open on its hinges. 

(He promises he’ll get you a new door, a better one, one that isn’t so flimsy–that could be so easily broken into. He thinks of you asleep here, with a door like that, and his worry grows insurmountably.)

He shouts your name as he enters. 

No answer. 

He storms the place. Your bedroom, your bathroom, all familiar and all so empty. 

“Venti!” Jean calls, and then your own name, too, as she searches. 

Nothing. 

“You know how they are,” Jean tries to rationalize, “they’re always getting up to trouble. They could be anywhere.” 

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Kaeya growls, rushing past her and back out the door. He’s beginning to panic. He can feel the tendrils of it creep up his chest, wrapping like vines around his poor throat. His head is growing foggy, warped with his fear. All he can see is you being dragged away. 

Use force. 

His mind feels hot, too sharp. 

Torture if necessary. 

“Kaeya,” Jean barks his name, rushing to catch up to him. 

Her voice is a balm, he wants–she should–

“I’ll try to get ahold of Diluc and send word out to search the city for her.” Jean says and her voice is filled with authority now, level-headed and steady, “where else would she be?” 

“I’m going to my apartment.” Kaeya says, mind narrowing, “in case she’s–I don’t know–” 

“Go,” Jean agrees, a command, “and if she’s not there, keep searching–you know her hiding spots now.” 

Kaeya nods dazedly. 

Jean grabs him roughly, on the arm, jerking him to face her. One hand coming down on his shoulder. 

“We’ll find her.” She promises and she dips her head a little to force him to meet her eyes. They’re all stone and determination. The eyes of a leader. “Do you hear me, Captain?” 

Kaeya nods, more assuredly now, “yes,” he agrees, finding his voice, her eyes. 

She shoves him a little, a push to go, “I’ll reconvene with you shortly. Stay sharp.” 

Kaeya doesn’t need another moment; he picks his eyes up to catch the city skyline of Mondstadt, of his apartment in the distance. He breaks into a sprint. He tries to focus only on his breath, on the way his feet carry him swiftly, weaving in and around the city. 

He tries to force away what he’d seen. 

He bounds for his home, feels his heart and fear ratchet up inside of himself. He’s imagining his home empty. 

He’s imagining you gone. 

He’s imagining the door shut tight and locked, how he’d left it, and you’re nowhere to be found. A cold space. An empty space. 

He takes the stairs two at a time, he tries the door and it–it’s locked still. 

He doesn’t pray. He’s not a religious man. And that stupid Archon–

Is sitting perched on his kitchen counter, overlooking the living room.

“Ssh,” Venti hisses, finger to his lips, as he points to his couch. The one Kaeya has slept on nearly every night since this whole ordeal started. The one you are currently occupying, curled up beneath the blanket he usually uses, sleeping soundly.

Or, you were. 

You blink awake, slow, confused. 

Kaeya rushes to your side. 

He kneels. 

The door is left ajar. 

“You’re here,” he gets out, winded, rough. 

“Kaeya?” Your voice is so small and confused. 

Without thinking, he brushes a strand of hair from your face as gently as he can, hands shaking. He’s still panting, chest still heaving. But–

“I’m here.” He says then, astonished, relieved. 

He wants to pull you off the couch and into his arms. He wants to hold you. He wants to collapse on top of you. 

He falls back onto his bottom, breathing hard, all his fear leaking out of him swiftly. “Oh, you’re here.” He says again, voice breaking, as if to assure himself. 

You sit up, eyes pricking with concern, “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “where else would I be?” 

Kaeya can’t even speak yet, but he laughs, delirious, out of breath. 

“No where.” He says, “I thought–you were–” 

“She was trying to nap,” Venti finally speaks up and his eyes are far too keen. “Before our performance tonight.” 

Kaeya looks at him. Venti looks back. 

The door is open. 

He heaves out a rough breath. He hangs his head between his shoulders. He tries to calm himself. 

“I need to tell Jean to call off–” he laughs, “oh, Diluc is going to lose his mind.” 

“Call off what?” You ask.

“Your search party.” Kaeya finally can get out. Your face brightens to shock. 

“My search party? Kaeya–”

“Venti, why don’t you find Jean and tell her where you’ve been? Before the whole city turns upside down looking for her.” Kaeya then says. He won’t look at him but he can feel Venti’s eyes on him.

But then Venti laughs, and chirps, “aye, Captain!” 

And he flits out of Kaeya’s home. 

Venti shuts the door behind him and seals you away with him. Kaeya exhales roughly again, elbows resting on his knees. 

“Are you okay?” You ask for a second time, so sweetly. So sincerely. You lean towards him like you want to touch him. 

And he wants to say, I was scared. He wants to say, I was terrified of losing you. I could’ve torn the whole city apart looking for you. He wants to say, I’m so relieved to see you. Hold me. Let me hold you. 

Instead, all he says is, “they had your diary. And I thought–” 

The door is shut tightly. 

“Oh,” you breathe, “I left it at home, the last time we–” 

“They must’ve broken in.” He agrees softly. And then he looks rather sheepish. 

“What?” You ask, as if you know. 

“I broke in. I owe you a new door.” 

“Kaeya!” You scold, “why did you–why were you so–?!”

“Jean and I thought you were kidnapped!” Kaeya defends himself.

“Kaeya–” 

“We were searching for you. Since you weren’t in any of the places you were supposed to be.” He begins to scold. 

“Kaeya,” 

“Didn’t I leave you with Jean? You should’ve stayed with her.” 

You suddenly launch forward, arms wrapping around his neck, falling from the couch and onto his body. His breath is almost knocked out of his lungs for the millionth time today because of you and surprise colors his face. Raises his brows. 

You hug him tight, face pressing to the crook of his neck, a bundle in his lap. 

“I’m okay,” you murmur, “I’m right here.” 

His arms, which had come up in surprise, finally settle over you. They wrap all the way around your shoulders, your middle, pull you closer, and he’s sure his heart is such a mess in his chest. He’s sure it sounds like a disaster. 

But you press harder into him, fingers digging into his muscles. 

“I’m sorry I scared you,” you say, and then your voice tilts upwards playfully, “didn’t think you’d really send the cavalry just because–” 

He pinches your side. 

“I had reason to believe–!” 

You start to laugh, into his throat. You shift to pull away and he wants to keep you there, he wants to hold fast to you and not let go. He wants to cling to you. But he lets you move away to look at his face once more. 

You look at him in a way that just makes him feel naked. He wants to hide. He wants to say something clever. 

“Thank you,” you suddenly say. 

“For what?” Kaeya laughs, “causing a ruckus? Waking you from your nap?” 

“For coming for me.” You cut him off. “I feel safe with you and this just proves that–” 

Kaeya slackens a little, perhaps surprised or unsure or–you always leave him wobbly and uncertain. You always disarm him so swiftly, so viciously. 

“Of course I’d come for you.” Kaeya says and he does mean it. He softens it’s truth with, “it’s my duty.” 

But that night, you don’t ask him to sit beside you as you fall asleep–he does so anyway. You don’t say a word, except to ask him for another bedtime story playfully, except to hear him speak, as you always do when he stays with you. 

You didn’t ask but he needed to. 

It’s not his duty, but he wanted to.

He can’t imagine not watching you drift off to sleep tonight, of all nights, when he thought he’d lost you. 

He watches you sleep soundly in his bed, back rising and falling as you curl around one of his pillows, cheek endearingly squished against it. He doesn’t sleep. 

The door is locked tight. 

And even though it's not his duty, he watches over you, anyway.

***

SCENE II

On the docks of Cider Lake in the early afternoon sun. Venti is perched beside you, plucking lazily at a lyre. Your feet dangle off the dock, swinging like a child. The sky is endlessly blue. Clouds are like sleeping rabbits in the sky. The wind kisses you. 

“I feel their eyes most when I’m with you.” You say suddenly, glancing at your companion out of the corner of your eyes. 

A note strums from Venti’s fingers. He hums lightly. 

“Not sure what the Fatui would want with a measly bard.” Venti shrugs, “maybe they think I’m the weakest of your guards.” 

“Maybe,” you say, but you don’t believe that. You don’t believe it because–well, because you noticed them following him first. At first, you weren’t quite sure and you had mentioned it to Venti, but he’d shrugged you off. 

Breezy as ever. He’d pretend there was nothing to worry about. 

You turn towards him and look at him before you murmur, low enough that any ears listening would only catch the sound of the gently lapping water, “why were the Fatui following you?” 

“I believe I’m supposed to ask that of you,” Venti replies with a smile but you can tell, there’s a chipping like a porcelain teacup losing a piece of its lip. 

“I wasn’t sure at first,” you tell him softly, eyes glancing out over the calm lake, “but then I caught them intercepting letters and messages of yours. I caught them in the belltower and I knew.” 

The belltower in the cathedral was a place Venti had shown you early in your return to Mondstadt. He’d told you it’d been a place that he came to play music, to look out at the world below. A secret place for him, now for you; a gift, he’d said. Places are a gift to give the people you love and secrets are, too. 

Then you’d caught a Fatui member snooping through the hidden items Venti had left there; music sheets, maps the two of you had crudely drawn, and old clues to scavenger hunts long past. 

The two of you had always liked sending the other all over Mondstadt; it’s why you hide your diary. He hides new songs he wants you to learn. You’d leave clues, games to play, puzzles to solve for each other. 

Venti plucks out a few, odd notes on his lyre. Goosebumps erupt over your skin.

“You don’t think I have dealings with them, do you?” Venti asks queerly. There’s a funny sound to his voice. 

You shake your head quickly, “Archons, no.” And then you tilt your head, “but I did what I do best.” 

A wrong note. It rings discordant in the air. 

Venti looks at you. 

“You didn’t.” He almost begs, but he knows. 

“Of course I did.” You respond and Venti looks genuinely distraught. So you add, “nothing terrible–but I wrote you false letters. I led them on a goose chase a little, like I always do when the Fatui gets too close or comfortable in Mondstadt.” 

Venti shakes his head, “you shouldn’t have meddled here.”

“They’re looking for something of yours, aren’t they?” You ask slowly. 

Venti, for once, is quiet. The wind catches on your clothes in a burst. It’s confirmation enough. 

“So I sent them all over Mondstadt with puzzles and clues and fake letters.” You said, “and really, I thought it was harmless but–” 

“Did you tell this to Kaeya?” Venti asks.

“Not specifically this. I always toy with the Fatui when I can, though, he knows that.” 

Venti shakes his head slightly, fingers digging into the wood of his instrument, ��and with all the hiding places and riddles between us, I’m sure they–” Venti stands abruptly, “I need to speak to Kaeya.” 

You stand with him suddenly, “why? What for?”

Venti frowns at you and it’s an expression you hardly ever see him wear. 

So you press tenderly, “what are they looking for, Venti?” 

“You’re such trouble,” Venti replies and his voice catches with emotion; he doesn’t  mean it meanly, in fact it’s–well, it’s fond. Mournful, almost. The wind rushes past the two of you, stronger now. Water laps at the docks. 

“Give me a clue.” You try to charm him but it sounds more like a plea. “Like always. I’ll figure it out and you won’t ever have to say it outloud, if you’re that scared.” 

Your heart feels like a brewing storm in your chest. Venti has never hidden things so openly from you. It frightens you. 

But Venti shakes his head for once, small and soft. “Not this time, my friend.” 

“Venti–” 

He suddenly looks away, down towards the other side of the dock, where the cobblestone of the street meets the wood. Kaeya is standing there, waiting to relieve Venti and walk with you to Springvale for rehearsal. The gold of his coat glints in the afternoon sun. He looks like a knight. 

He waits for you. 

“You have rehearsal,” Venti says, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, “go.” 

“Please, will you tell me?” You ask again. You swallow hard around sudden tears; stupid and silly but–aching. You can’t name why you feel like crying, only that you can tell something far larger is on the horizon. 

It hangs like a storm. 

You can feel its pressure, now more than ever. 

Tell me, you want to beg him, you want to sing, you want to scream. Let me help you, let me in. 

Venti looks at you with love and affection and sadness. He looks at you with a heaviness you can’t name, but can taste. It’s ancient. It’s otherworldly. You want to hold him. You want to hide him from the world. 

“Not yet,” he replies. 

“Why not?” Your voice breaks as easily and fragile as a bird’s wing. 

Venti smiles sadly, “because if you knew, you’d put yourself in even more danger than you already have for me.” 

You open your mouth, but he continues;

“And this isn’t your battle.” He turns away, eyes glassy, but waves at Kaeya, as if nothing is wrong. He smiles at you, watery and fond. 

“Besides, you’ve never been much of a fighter in the first place.” 

***

SCENE III

In the living room of Kaeya’s apartment. Soft, evening blue light through the windows. Hazy, dark shadows. You’re curled up on the couch, legs tucked up underneath you, with a cup of tea held in your palms. You’re ready for bed. Kaeya enters from his office with a stack of letters and papers; what the audience can see of his face is that he’s somber for once. He casts the greater shadow.

“Will you tell me again why you thought it was a good idea to toy with the Fatui?” Kaeya asks and in his hand, he has only some of the letters and maps and sheet music that you’d been leaving for Venti. 

Or, the Fatui. Since you knew they were rifling through Venti’s things. 

“I always toy with them.” You reply simply, taking a slow, burning sip of tea. It’s chamomile and rose. A hint of cinnamon. Kaeya prepared it for you before disappearing to do some work in his office. You swallow. “And I never said it was a good idea.” 

“Then why do it?” 

“Why are they following Venti? What are they looking for?” 

Kaeya lets out a sharp breath, perhaps growing impatient. “I don’t know. Right now, I need to know why they think they need you to find it, though.” 

“Well, I made it seem like I had whatever they’re looking for.” 

You watch Kaeya freeze for a moment and if you weren’t so intuitive and just a little wittier, you’d make some sort of joke about cryo and freezing in place. 

“Why?” He demands suddenly. 

“I wanted to get them off Venti’s back.” You say, “this is what I do when the Fatui get too close to the people I know. This is what I do when the Fatui think they can stick their hands in Mondstadt. Someone has to teach them a lesson.” You take another little sip of your tea, and then add, “and I don’t have a sword–my weapon is my pen. My voice. My wit.” 

Kaeya shakes his head, “you don’t even know what you’ve gotten yourself into.” 

You gesture smoothly, “then enlighten me.”

“This is bigger than you, do you understand that?” Kaeya then says and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him quite so stern. 

His face is shadowed. It’s growing darker. 

“Sure,” you say easily, “that’s why I had to intervene.” 

“I don’t think you actually understand.” Kaeya says and his voice has grown more serious, imperative, a little lower. 

“I’m not an idiot,” you snip, “clearly! Since I’ve managed to fool the Fatui and send them running all over Mondstadt.” You can feel your hackles rise a little, heat swimming in your chest, up your neck. “And most importantly, away from Venti–since he’s got some huge secret that no one will tell me!” 

Kaeya moves suddenly to sit on the coffee table in front of the sofa you’re on. Your knees nearly brush. He splays out your letters and music sheets and maps. “Why didn’t you come to me before doing all of this? Before involving yourself?” 

“Because I always mess with the Fatui!” Your voice raises and you finally move to set the tea cup beside him on the coffee table. “I didn’t think it was any different than any of the other times!” 

“The Fatui aren’t just–” Kaeya gestures, papers crinkling beneath his grip that has grown tighter with his own frustration. “–some band of half-wit politicians or merchants for you to toy with! They’re dangerous.” 

This quiets you for a moment. And then, “so? A lot of things are dangerou–” 

“So?” Kaeya repeats, “so?! You’re not even–” he laughs, but the sound is scraping and hollow, off-kilter. It’s disbelief, almost a scoff, “you’re not even a fighter. You’re not a Knight or a warrior. You’re not even an adventurer of some kind.” 

Silence stretches between the two of you. 

“Can you ever trust my own judgment and intuition? I have made it this far–” 

“But you’re reckless.” Kaeya says, “specifically, you’re reckless with yourself. You know the Fatui are dangerous–it’s why you’re worried about Venti, right? It’s why you intervened.” Kaeya says and then his voice gentles, “so why don’t you have the same concern for yourself?” 

You feel your jaw lock. It ticks. 

You look away from him defiantly, out towards one of the windows, blue with the evergrowing night sky. 

It strikes a strange note inside of you. You have concern for yourself, you want to say, you came to him, didn’t you? Eventually. 

But it doesn’t negate what you did, which was reckless. He’s right; you could’ve turned to him immediately, you could’ve gone to Diluc or Jean or him. But instead, you tried to distract the Fatui; you tried to dance and sing and entice them onto the path you’re on, instead of the one Venti is on.

You gave them a performance. And now, with all their eyes set on you, like the hungry, vying eyes of an audience, a predator, you are in danger. 

“This isn’t a game anymore. This isn’t funny or—or breezy. You’ve gotten yourself into real danger, do you understand?” Kaeya then says and you can tell he’s trying to get you to look at him again. 

“I have you and Jean and Diluc to—“

“But your recklessness got us all here. You rush head first into—into everything, without regard for yourself.” Kaeya continues. “You’re an open book. You wear your heart on your sleeve—it’s like you have no self preservation whatsoever.” 

You sit in silence. You cross your arms over your chest and you feel a hard, little ache in the pit of your throat.

He’s chipping away at something inside of you, something already too tender to take the beating. 

“It’s not a bad thing to be open.” You say and your voice is tight, thicker than it should be. 

“No,” he agrees, “but you have no regard for yourself and all of it for everyone else.” 

Tears prick your eyes, much to your dismay. 

You know the reason. You can feel it, somewhere in the back of your mouth, down where your throat is tight. 

You can’t lose Venti. 

Venti could lose you, you’ve decided. The world could lose you. But you are so terrified of loss and really–you must’ve been easy to leave if–

If it could be done so effortlessly. 

(You think of yourself as a child and your father setting you down for the last time. You think of yourself at an altar, forever waiting, the way you waited for your father your whole life.) 

Venti can lose you. 

But you can’t lose Venti. 

You hope that maybe if you give enough of yourself to the world, it will need you bad enough to never lose. You think one day, it’ll fill the empty, aching wound inside of you that has been just left to dry out. Crack and splinter. 

Sometimes, you think if you scare someone bad enough, they’ll look at you and say they can’t lose you. You think maybe if you scare yourself bad enough, you’ll finally look at yourself and say I can’t lose you. 

“Don’t cry,” Kaeya hushes softly and you wipe quickly at the tear that has freed itself to slip down the slope of your cheek. 

It makes you want to cry harder, for some reason, for him to be so tender now. 

He sets the papers down beside you on the couch finally. He reaches out and touches your knee, broad palm surprisingly warm, as he rubs a gentle pass with his thumb. 

“Why are you crying?” Kaeya then asks, coaxing, gentle.

You sniff hard. 

You dig a little, you search for the answer. Is it because you’re careless with yourself? Is it because you’re scared now? Is it because he pointed it out at all—that he noticed enough, saw through you enough, to finally say it? 

Is it because—

“I worry about you.” He says when you don’t answer him. 

—you’re worth fretting over?

You shake your head a little, perhaps in an attempt to disagree with him, perhaps in an attempt to reassure him. But nothing comes out except another few tears. 

You try to keep the sob back, the noise trapped with the reason in the back of your throat. You fear what will come out. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage to whisper and when you finally turn to face him, he’s right there, and for a moment, you think he might move further to hold you. You think you might just slide into his arms. 

You hold your breath. 

You think he holds his, too. 

“I don’t need an apology.” Kaeya finally murmurs and he doesn’t fold you into his arms, but he turns up his hand on your knee carefully. His palm, an offering. “I just need you to be more careful.” 

Slowly, you slide your hand into his. 

You’ve held his hand plenty now, know the rough scrape of his calluses against your own, but it has never quite felt like this.

Real. Weighted. 

He folds his fingers between yours gently. Your hands lock together, woven, knuckle over knuckle. Palm to palm. 

You’re both watching your hands, enamored, maybe terrified. 

You cling to him in a way you haven’t clung to someone in a long, long time. 

You think you’ve tried to hold onto everything like this; with too much force, gripped in your rebellious fist. You think everything you’ve ever held must’ve been crumpled and ruined from your grasp, you think everything must have the indents of your fingers permanently etched there. 

You want to squeeze, you want to bear down on his hands like a dog who finally caught a bird. 

“Can you promise me that?” Kaeya prompts gently when he doesn’t receive a response from you. 

You glance up at his searching face, the way he’s watching you carefully, scouring to see any flicker of emotion. 

You nod a little, jerky, unsure. 

“Will you say it for me?” He murmurs and dips his head a little to keep your straying gaze. 

You swallow hard around the lump in your throat, tight and hard. 

You feel your eyes fill with tears again. 

But still, you manage to croak, “I’ll try to be more careful.” 

You can tell the response displeases him somewhat; you can tell he wants more. But anything more right now, may feel like a lie. 

And you’re no good at that. 

“Okay,” Kaeya agrees, “thank you.” And then he adds with a gentle lilt, “I’m sorry for making you cry.” 

You laugh a little through your tears, “it’s okay–” you mumble, letting your eyes fall back to your intertwined hands. “I probably needed to hear it.” 

His thumb makes a slow, comforting pass over the back of your hand. 

For a moment, the space fills with silence. 

You watch the careful sweep of his thumb, you watch the flex of his  hand, the veins against his wrist. You can feel the room fill with something more, a growing of a feeling, stretching amongst your ribs. Perhaps amongst his. You think there is something blooming inside of him, something he’s terrified of, something you’ll always long for. 

(If you could feel his pulse in his wrist, it would be jumping, picking up in a fierce little tempo.) 

He’s tenser now, you realize. His breath is caught somewhere in his chest, like he might speak again. 

You wait for him. 

He opens his mouth. 

But then after a moment, he closes it. 

You pick your head up to examine his face, to try and discern what it is he wants to say now. 

And mostly, it’s a mask of causality. 

(His trembling heart is the only thing that gives him away now.)

Maybe, the depth of his eye, or maybe it’s only a trick of the light. 

You want to say, what is it? Or prompt him for more. You want him to speak what is so clearly on the very tip of his tongue. 

Tell me, you want to say, tell me what seems to scare you so badly. 

“I–” he starts. He stops. 

And then neither of you speak and the tension stretches and something inside you grows. You cling to him harder without realizing it, as if anticipating the way he’ll pull away. You don’t want him to go. You can feel it, your heart unfurling for him, you can feel the way he holds you, too. 

In the same way that you hold him. 

You hope he leaves indents in your skin. You hope he never lets go. 

“Yes?” You prompt gently. 

But then he clears his throat and glances away. 

The spell is broken and he forces his hands to loosen from his own hold on you. He forces himself to recede and to calm his heart. You watch as he mentally pulls away from you. You force yourself not to cling harder to him, to catch his hand and hold it close to yourself, to pull him closer to you. 

He says, “Mondstadt cares very deeply for you–and you for Mondstadt. I only wish–” he draws in a small breath, “that you’d afford yourself the same care.” 

You wonder what he was going to say instead. You know this is not his original thought, but the secondary, more distant one. You almost want to ask him, you want to needle and beg, but you know Kaeya well now. 

You know he doesn’t say anything he hasn’t carefully thought about or that he doesn’t want you to hear. 

Still, it manages to make you soften, to make tears press again behind your eyes. 

You turn to tuck your face into your shoulder, like it may stop him from seeing you cry. You squeeze his hand like a lifeline. 

“Oh, look what I’ve done now.” He says and his voice is light–he’s teasing you gently, holding you tighter again as you laugh now and sniffle, fingers still digging deep into his hand. 

“I’m sorry–” you mumble, “Am I hurting you?”

You loosen your grip on his hand. 

“I’ve been through far worse,” he soothes, running his thumb back over the dips and plains of your hand. 

You try to keep yourself from bursting into heavier, harder tears. You can’t even quite name why; your care for him, or his for you. The fact that he won’t name it, or because you’re scared he’ll leave if you do. 

You’re nearly trembling with it; you’re afraid he’ll say one more word, one more phrase and you’ll simply fall to pieces.

You don’t know what it is about care; but when someone is gentle with you, it makes you feel as if they’ve torn you to shreds. It turns you inside out. It turns you into a child again, desperately seeking it out. It feels foolish now sometimes, over dramatic.

But Kaeya holds your hand and you take deep, shuddering breaths until you don’t feel as if you’re going to bawl your eyes out anymore. 

You don’t want to stop clinging to his hand, though. 

“I should get to bed,” you finally say, if only for him, if only to give him an out because it’s easier than if he finds it himself. You’re too fragile for him to pull away first tonight.

So you slip from his grasp and stand. Your legs feel a little wobbly, unsure of yourself. He looks up at you, from beneath the fan of his dark lashes. You swallow hard, around the tears, around whatever it is he makes you feel. 

You can still feel the pressure in your hand, the way his fingers feel against yours. 

Again, he looks as if he wants to say something. 

You wait, expectant. 

And again, he lets it fall. 

Instead, he says, “yes–it's another early morning. I’ll let you sleep.” 

He stands now, too, collecting the papers, gathering them into his hands carefully. All of your wit and love and craft. All of your recklessness in the palm of his hand.

“I’m going to stay up a little longer,” he says then, “if you need anything.” 

Now it's your turn to look up at him. 

And there must be something too raw, too sincere in your eyes, because he can’t look for long. 

“Kaeya,” you want to draw his gaze back to yours, but he doesn't quite reach your eyes. Still, you need to say, “thank you.” 

“For scolding you?” He asks, light, too light. He tries to create distance. Coldness. 

“For caring about me.” 

He swallows. He doesn’t confirm or deny it. But he looks guilty, a man held back, everything carefully in place. Not a word misspoken, not a look out of place. Sometimes, you have the urge to destroy that veneer. Sometimes, you want to know what he looks like without all his thoughtfully placed appearances. 

You wonder if you will ever see him like that. You wonder if he will ever tell you more; if he will ever let you in. 

You think maybe you will stay like this forever, close to him, but not too close. 

With care, but without it spoken. Always in the blue dark and never in the dawn. 

He clears his throat, “it’s my job to look out for you.” 

Your heart falls a little, sharp, like a plummeting note, a tight draw of the strings of a discordant chord. You swallow around the lump in your throat. 

“Yes,” you agree distantly, nodding your head, “I suppose it is.” 

“I’ll be in the office.” He says because he must slip away from you now. You think when he gets too close, he grows scared of being burned. 

He closes the door behind him.

You watch it for a moment, steady. 

You wonder if it’ll stay like this forever; always on the other side of the door. 

When you go to sleep that night, you leave the bedroom door ajar, as if to prove something. 

But in the morning, you find it shut tight. 

At rehearsal, you’re somewhere else, off in your mind. Though you say your lines, you feel as if you miss them, like they’re coming out automatically, half-hearted. 

And the only ones that rings true, that resonates throughout the stage is one you’d previously thrown away;

“Hold on tight–don’t let go.” 

This time, your voice cracks with it, breaks over the don’t. 

That night, Kaeya presents you with a bouquet of flowers; a show in front of the world. 

And when he brushes his knuckles against yours, you eagerly slip your hand into his as you walk home. 

You don’t even care that it’s for the world and no longer for you.

You are, if nothing else, a good actor (or of foolish heart);

So you pretend it’s real, with the flowers he gave you nestled into the crook of your elbow, and his hand curled around yours. You pretend that you are walking home with your love, and the sun is setting, and you are filled to the brim. 

You laugh as if that’s the case. You lean into him as if that’s the case. 

You knock into him as you walk, desperate to be close, to feel his side against yours. You are desperate to have more of him; all his attention, all his affection. 

To not feel like a world away–or like there’s a door between you, one that you don’t know if he’ll ever open or not. 

***

PRELUDE TO SCENE IV

Springvale in the afternoon, the sun warm and bright; it makes everything sparkle, almost radiant. The grass seems lush and full, the lake is shimmering. 

Klee eats cut fruit happily beside you at a picnic table. You steal a piece or two from time to time. Kaeya sits across from you and Klee, his back to the audience.

“Are you and Kaeya boyfriend and girlfriend?” Klee suddenly asks around a burst of valberries. 

Despite everything, you feel your heart tick up in a strange, sharp tempo. 

Your eyes fly to Kaeya, who's already looking at you. 

You share a silent conversation with each other and a series of increasingly dramatic expressions;

What should we tell her? 

The truth? 

What? No! 

Then you tell her–

“Yes,” Kaeya finally says, “we are boyfriend and girlfriend.” 

Klee picks her head up, perhaps surprised at his answer. “You’re dating?!” She asks, louder now and you can’t help but laugh. 

“Yes,” Kaeya lies, perhaps for any eavesdroppers, “we’re dating, Klee.” 

She looks between the two of you. 

“Miss Jean said you’re in love with each other.” Klee says casually and that makes both of you freeze momentarily. 

You feel heat rush into the high points of your face. Your mind whirls, spins into overthinking. Why would Jean say this? To keep your covers? A kinder way to say it to a child? 

For a moment, you fear Jean knows a part of your heart that you fully haven’t gotten to know yet yourself. 

You fear there is some truth to it. 

(Perhaps love is too strong of a word but—)

You adore Kaeya. 

You have your whole life, you think, from when you were young and chasing after them with childlike, outstretched hands, to adulthood, where you have always held respect for him and now—

Something more, perhaps, after all your time with him. 

How could you not? What chance did you have against him, anyways? 

(You hope he doesn’t dare read your diary again. 

You suddenly worry that Jean has instead.) 

You’re almost fearful to catch Kaeya’s gaze, you swallow hard, but force yourself to. And when you do, you realize he’s–

Amused. Near laughing.

That absolute bas— 

You kick him underneath the table and he yelps a little. You hide your snicker behind a hand against your mouth. 

“We care about each other very much.” You tell Klee, sobering. 

“Are you gonna get married?” She asks then, just as casually, around another piece of fruit. 

Kaeya makes a noise of surprise, “married?” He asks Klee, “where are these questions coming from?” 

“I thought if you’re boyfriend and girlfriend, then you get married.” Klee responds. 

“Sometimes,” you agree, nudging the bowl of fruit closer to her little hands so that she can reach the last few pieces better. “But right now we’re just boyfriend and girlfriend.” 

Klee hums around her berry. 

And then she looks up at you, “do you guys kiss?” 

The word kiss is punctuated with disgust, almost sick curiosity; as if she might not be able to believe it. 

It makes you choke, then stutter into a laugh. Kaeya laughs as well, full and surprised. 

“People who are dating do tend to kiss, Klee, so yes.” He says, amused with her. He catches your eye across the table. You swallow hard with the way he gazes at you, infinitely pleased and laid back, deeply amused. By you or Klee, you’re not sure. Still, you can’t help the smile that touches your lips, perhaps just as entertained, perhaps a little rueful. 

“Gross,” she declares. And then she looks at Kaeya, “do you think she’s pretty?” 

You look at Kaeya expectantly, propping your chin in your hands, and sing, “yes, Kaeya, do you think I’m pretty?” 

He smirks, leaning back in his seat a little, and a fissure of heat rips through you. You bat your lashes for him. 

“I think you’re beautiful, darling.” Kaeya croons, sweet as ever, and enough to make you damn near melt. 

You can feel heat in your face, despite it all. You feel like a teenager. You feel like a girl with a crush, a boy with his love in front of him, and not a clue what to do. Bumbling and suddenly young, graceless. 

A pang hits you squarely in the chest; you wish this was real. You wish he was being honest. 

Klee squeals in embarrassment or surprise. “You’re going to get cooties!” She tells you. 

You use her as a distraction, leaning down a little to conspire with her, “Kaeya does have cooties.” You agree in a faux-whisper. “But I have the antidote.” 

“You do?” Klee asks, “what is it?”

“Its a secret recipe,” you begin, putting on a good show of trying to come up with the ingredients, “but it certainly starts with the essence of butterflies.” You glance over at the field behind you, which you know is teeming with butterflies.

You used to chase them here in your youth until the sun set and the fireflies sparked to life in the evening dark. And then you chased their soft, blinking lights until the other kids were called home. And it was just you and the rolling fields and endless night skies and bumbling bugs. You’d try to carry one home with you so you wouldn’t feel so lonely. 

Klee follows your gaze and watches as one of the butterflies flits and flutters. 

“Can I ask for your help, little Spark Knight? Will you carefully catch me a butterfly? Don’t hurt it, though, we need it alive for the antidote.” 

Immediately, she is perking up, jumping up from her seat. 

“You can count on me!” 

She bounds off into the field of swaying wildflowers. 

You turn back to Kaeya. 

His eye is soft, perhaps fond. 

Before you can loose your bravery, loose your courageous little heart, you stand and move to his side of the bench so that you can watch Klee. 

Your shoulder brushes with his. Your thigh touches his. You’re aware of it all, sharply, keenly. 

He looks at you and you gaze back up at him. For a moment, you get swept away in his star-blue eye. The bend of dark lashes. Like the butterflies in the field, your heart flutters, feeling as delicate as their wings. 

“Careful,” Kaeya says softly, so smoothly that his voice could be a melody, “or people really will think we’re in love.” 

Heat smarts your face again. But you tip your chin up because you’ve never shied away from a challenge before; “why do you say that?” 

Kaeya suddenly reaches out and carefully, as if you might fall to pieces at his touch (and really—you think you might), takes hold of your chin. His thumb barely brushes your bottom lip. Then he says, “the way you look at me.” 

“You were looking at me first,” you accuse but your voice is hushed. 

“And you shouldn’t melt when I touch you.” 

Your stomach swoops like a bird in the sky and then soars. Your lashes flutter. You’re close to him—almost nose to nose. And now you really do think of kissing him like he’s actually yours. As if he could be. 

His eye drops to your lips, thumb inching upwards. 

“Then you shouldn’t touch me so.” You murmur, earnest, and if your voice is soft with pleading—a pleading for what, you can’t tell—then whose to say? “Like—like you want to kiss me.” 

Your nose brushes against his. 

“Don’t—” his voice sticks, “don’t kiss me. No one’s even watching.” 

“Do you not want me to?” 

“Yes, I want—” he stops. 

Your heart sings. I want, I want, I want—

He swallows, “we shouldn’t, though.” 

“Why not?” You dare to ask, hands drifting to his chest, his collar bones. 

You can almost, almost feel his smile, slow and fond, “well, firstly, you’ll get cooties…” 

“Kaeya,” your own smile is a warm curve that you want to feel against his.

“Secondly,” He begins, drawing in a soft breath that you feel beneath the palm of your hand. 

“I have a butterfly!” Klee shouts, head suddenly poking up from the wildflowers in a burst of petals. 

You and Kaeya jolt away from each other, hands drawing back into your laps, facing away from each other as if teenagers caught by your parents. Heat zips through you in a rush. 

He almost—you almost—

Something in your chest bats its wings, excited, elated. It takes to flight. A smile overtakes your face, winning, determined. 

Oh, you think, glancing at him as you head to Klee, oh, you want me, too. 

She opens her little hands for you and the moment she does, the butterfly escapes into the sky—taking to flight. 

You laugh as she squeals. 

She races after it. 

And then you do, too. 

In an instant, Kaeya has joined you, too. 

And it dissolves, the sun slowly moving throughout the sky, into running and chasing and laughing. The joyful sound of your laugh, of Klee’s excitement, of Kaeya’s fondness. 

It melts like the sky, like your heart, like the way you do when Kaeya touches you. 

There’s a moment, quick, when you’re in the wildflowers with him. He’s on his back and you lean over him. 

He peers up at you. 

Beautiful man that he is with sparkling eyes. 

You think, people really will think we’re in love, if you look at me like that. 

And then you say, boldened by the day and the sun and the warmth and the tempo of his heart beneath your open palm;

“You’ll be mine yet, Captain.” 

He blinks, perhaps surprised, before a full, warm laugh falls from his lips. 

“Is that a challenge, princess?” He purrs, looking up at you with a halo of flowers beneath his head. 

You grin, beautiful and wicked and radiant. 

“It’s a promise.” 

And then you stand to run after Klee, down the sloping hill, and into the arms of the sky hanging above your heads. 

He watches you and you can feel his gaze on your back, your silhouette against the sky, your laugh caught on the wind, and tuck the vow into your heart. 

Hope it tucks into his, too, finds it’s home there where no one has before and claim it as yours, yours, yours. 

You open your palms and a butterfly, blue as the sea, as a bird’s wing, leaps from your hands and takes to flight. Takes to the sky all open just for you. 

***

SCENE IV

The belltower in the Cathedral, high above Mondstadt. Storm clouds cling to the horizon. The sky is mostly dark, but the sun escapes through a sliver of clouds and still shines for now, casting the world in a strange contradiction. More ominous. More stunning. Burnished buildings set against wicked, deep blue storm clouds. 

Your skirts swirl against gold and silver bells, as blue as the clouds. Kaeya turns and twists, so we only catch flashes of his face. 

Kaeya takes the steps near two at a time to keep up with your pace. You lift your skirts with one hand, racing up the curving, stone steps, and your other hand holds fast to his. You drag him up and up and up. 

The whole day, you’d dragged him all over Mondstadt, to all your favorite places; bakeries and music stores and the library. Eagerly, he’d followed, been at your side, at your heel like a loyal dog. 

(A lovesick pup—) 

Kaeya thinks he could spend countless days with you like this. 

The world is always more brilliant with you—he can’t deny it. 

And now, you’ve promised him another secret place of yours. 

“How much further?” He breathes hard, surprised to find himself winded. His legs almost burn; there have been far more stairs than he originally thought. Or was promised. but he was also promised the best view in all of Mondstadt, with one of your sweetest smiles.

And really, how could he have denied you then? How could he deny you at all today?  

“Not much!” You chirp back and then all it takes is a little more, until you come to a wooden door. 

It gives easily under your weight, your excited push, throwing it wide open. 

Light gleams, the world bursts before his eyes in a shimmer of gold, a rain of color and life. 

You sweep into the space, the arch beneath the stones and over the other side of one of the great bells. If he peers down, he can see the wooden scaffolding where someone stands to pull on the huge rope below. No doubt, it would take up this whole space, swing wildly so that the two of you would have to nimbly dodge and move, duck just to keep your heads. 

He hopes you’ve accounted for this, too. 

He follows you carefully around the bell, only to come to the other side of it and have the whole world open up before you. 

And it’s just you, in the breeze, and the storm clouds, above all of Mondstadt. 

You hang, perhaps a little too precariously, off one of the large stone pillars. 

Kaeya has half a mind to grab you, to pull you back towards him. But the wind favors you. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” You breathe and you’re so taken with it all, that he can hear your voice catch. 

“It is,” he agrees, but he’s not looking at the world the way you are. 

He’s looking at you. 

He watches you watch the streets below and the clouds above. He watches love and adoration paint across your face; joy and a strange sort of melancholy. 

Oh, you’ve always been so open.

Finally, you inhale. 

 Whilst still looking at the world below, the heavens above, you say, “I can’t explain what it does to me–the sky and the city and the wind when it touches me.” You look as if you could almost cry, and immediately his heart gives a lurch in his chest, “I don’t know how anyone can stand it.” 

Something in him twists and constricts. He wants to wipe your tears. He wants to coo, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

You laugh, “I’m sorry,” and shake your head like you’re silly, “I can’t help it–I’m just so happy. I adore the world so much.” 

You turn to face him, open and raw, “I know these haven’t been ideal circumstances,” you start and you shift, and like he’s drawn to the movement, like you’ve pulled him in, he moves, too. 

And then he’s standing in front of you. In front of an ancient bell from a nation that isn’t is, but could be. Above the whole world. Beneath the storm of it. 

“But I’ve been–” a tear escapes and again, as if he possessed, before he can even think, his hand has darted out to catch it. You laugh again, joyful and aching, “you make me so happy. And I—“

“Doesn’t seem so,” he murmurs, “seems I’ve made you cry.” 

You laugh again, sweet to his ears, like their own song. Your hands come up to his chest, palms open and flat against his racing heart. He’s sure you can feel it. Can you hear it? He hopes not. 

And no one is watching. He doesn’t need to stand this close to you or wipe your tears. 

You don’t need to put your hands on his chest and look up at him like that, in a way he doesn’t deserve. 

(You’ll be mine yet, Captain.) 

You look at him like he could’ve hung the moon. Or carved your beloved Mondstadt itself with his own hands from hill and valley. 

An ache spreads its wings like a bird in his chest. It isn’t fair, he thinks, to be looked at by you, with this expression on your face, when he knows he can’t have you. He knows you can’t be his, not truly. 

He wishes you wouldn’t look at him so. 

“They’re happy tears,” you tell him, pawing at his chest, creeping up towards his neck. You sway towards him. You finish what he tried to stop you from admitting, “—and I adore you.” 

Kaeya’s heart gives this twist, like it’s trying to rebel against him. He wants to run. He wants your arms around him. He wants—

“Careful,” Kaeya murmurs reflexively. Careful of what, though, he can’t say. 

Careful with yourself around him? Careful with him? 

You don’t heed his warning at all, and like you always have, you barrel towards all that you want. You press up to him. 

“You do make me happy,” you say again, sweeter now like honey on your lips, tip your chin up like you might offer him a taste. 

“Everything makes you happy,” Kaeya counters, shaking his head fractionally, looking down at you with lidded eyes. 

“Not true,” you almost pout up at him, shaking your head, fingers tightening in the collars of his shirt like you know he’s thinking about fleeing. 

He has half a mind to kiss you. You’re leaning up on your toes a little. He can smell your perfume; red berries and honeysuckle. Warm vanilla. He feels something tighten inside of him, hot and aching. He needs to put a stop to this—

He says your name, in warning. Perhaps fear. 

And you look up at him through the fan of your lashes and say his name like it’s a melody, “Kaeya.” 

He shakes his head now, fractionally, “don’t.” He murmurs, voice a low rumble. 

“Don’t what?” You ask innocently and then you do it again, as if you know perfectly well, “Kaeya–” 

His hand comes down to clutch your wrist, to keep it from moving around to the nape of his neck. He stills you. 

You look up at him, questioning, almost desperate. Perhaps unsure–you go to pull away, but he seizes your wrist, holds it tight to his chest and keeps you close. 

Thunder rumbles. 

“Don’t say my name like that.” He croons, voice a little rough, “don’t torture me.” 

He watches your face transform into understanding. Into—

Your fingers sink back into the fabric of his clothes, emboldened, “Kaeya,” you say like it bursts on your tongue, and then again, “Kaeya,” you hum, sing his name on a note that could be its own siren song. “Kaeya,” you purr as one of your arms winds around his neck. 

His poor heart—

He makes a noise; a soft groan of frustration, a little growl, back in his throat. 

“You’re such trouble,” but his other hand is squeezing at your hip now. “I swore to everyone I had nothing but pure intentions with you.” 

Your nose brushes his, a smile licking at the corner of your mouth, “I surely hope not.”

“I’m supposed to protect you.” He gets out.

“You do—you are.” Soft, sweet little assurance. 

He shakes his head again, barely, nose brushing yours. Fractionally closer. “You’re my responsibility.” 

“Are my desires, too?” You murmur and when you lean towards him to close the short distance between your lips, he suddenly seizes your jaw in his hand.

You gasp.

“And what of mine?” He asks, eye glinting like the too-hot part of a flame. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” 

His voice is a low rasp.

You look up at him with wide eyes, soft in the center, your eyebrows drawing in a little and you look—you look like you adore him. Like you’re desperate for him. 

“Sleeping in my bed every night, my clothes—“ Kaeya allows his thumb to drift over your bottom lip, slow, parting it from your top. He exhales roughly. “What am I supposed to do with you?” 

“Kiss me,” you plead.

Lightning cracks across the sky in a fissure of heat. 

“I shouldn’t.” He counters, even as you kiss at the pad of his thumb. Lips soft and warm, wet as your tongue darts out in a flash of heat. He inhales tightly, letting his thumb be drawn into the crux of your mouth. 

You look up at him through your lashes. He has to fight back another groan. There’s a flush on the nape of his neck, heat that swims beneath his skin. He’s certain you’ll melt him with your gaze alone.

What’s he supposed to do?

How’s he supposed to survive you? 

He scrambles for his wits. 

And firstly, he pulls his thumb from your lips.

“Kaeya—“ you coax again, “Kaeya.” 

“Stop it,” he hushes, “I can’t.” 

“I want you,” you murmur, almost whine.

“You’re a brat.” Kaeya groans finally, “stop tempting me.” 

“I’ll beg,” you sing sweetly. “Is that what you want to hear?” 

“No,” he says quickly because the thought of that makes his mind screech to a halt. “Never. I’d never—“

Make you beg.

He swallows around the words sharply. 

He lays his hands, long and broad, on your shoulders. 

He forces distance between the two of you. 

Thunder grumbles unhappily across the sky.

“I’m not going to kiss you.” 

“But you want to?” 

And the way you look at him, so earnestly and so desperately—

“That’s besides the point—“ You open your mouth to speak, only for him to continue, “my job is to protect you. This would be highly unprofessional of me.” 

“Since when have you—“

“You deserve better.” He finally says, words flying from his mouth before he can stop them, “I am, frankly, a rake and a cheat and—“

“That’s not—“

“The point is,” Kaeya continues over you, lest you do something even worse and try to fight or deny him, “it would be unwise of us.” 

“I, for one, have never claimed to be wise.” 

Kaeya laughs now, full and warm and fond. He shakes his head. You’re near glowing with just the sound of his joy. So he continues;

“It would be foolish. Perhaps, even, one of the worst things we could do.” 

His voice lilts, turns melodic. 

Your hands are back on his chest somehow. Flat over his heart, nearing his collar again. He’s losing. You’re sidling close and he wants to bring you closer still. He can feel all the curves of your body to his, fitting up against him like a missing puzzle piece. 

“Utterly disastrous, really.” He continues, voice growing fainter. He’s losing. 

“Wildly reckless?” You murmur, tipping your chin up, offering your lips to him like a sweet lamb to sacrifice. 

“Terribly…” he drifts, feeling the brush of your lips against his, “stupid, I’m afraid.” 

You hum lightly, barely, in acknowledgement before he’s suddenly closing the distance and kissing you soundly.

Oh, he’s lost. 

(It’s a promise.) 

The wind picks up sharply for a proper storm. Lightning flashes behind his eyelids. 

And that’s all it takes, Kaeya realizes, heart swinging wildly in his chest like a bell tolling. Knocking against his rib cage.

You throw your arms around his neck and deepen it. 

He groans in defeat, damning it all, and grabs at the skirts of your waist, squeezing at your hips desperately. 

Damn it all, he thinks again, knowing it’ll be something of a shipwreck; brutal and splendid and massive. Beautiful and heartbreaking enough that he just won’t be able to look away. 

More thunder, sky swirling and teeming and ready to just burst. He can feel it under his skin. 

You sink your hands into his hair. He nips sharply enough at your bottom lip that a gasp is wrenched from you. He swallows it. 

He wants so much more. 

The sky opens up and rain falls from the heavens in a golden and brutal downpour. 

***

SCENE V 

Dawn Winery in the evening, plum dark and warm from fire in the hearth. You and Diluc are at the grand piano, seated side by side, in an intimate and cozy parlor room. 

Kaeya has just entered and we see the side profile of his face as he watches the two of you. 

“Oh, do you remember this one?” You ask and immediately, music fills the space as your hands dance over the keys in a sweet, jaunty little tune. 

“Like this?” Diluc asks, setting his hands to the lower side to immediately complete the melody you play. “It’s this one, right?” 

“Yes!” You exclaim, the two of you playing with ease, a smile on your face. “We used to play this one all the time for our parents.” 

It’s such an innocent remark. Kaeya is almost caught off guard by it, by the memory that floods back to him. 

Crepus in the lounge chair, your parents across from him on the settee. The glow of the fire warm and gentle. Faces of people that swim in his mind, that he hasn’t seen or has avoided for a long time now, their smiles and laughs. People who left. Who died. Ghosts that once listened to your music, just as he is now, on the outskirts. 

Diluc, surprisingly, is not put off by the memory. Instead, he smiles, “I used to always mess this part up.” 

And then with ease, his large hands cascade over the keys. Not a note out of place.

“And look at you now!” You encourage him. 

He laughs softly, low, like the fire in the hearth. 

With ease, the two of you close the song together, watching each other with crinkled, happy eyes for the timing. For the last notes. 

He can hardly stand how lovely you look. Or how you look at Diluc. 

Have you ever looked at him like that? 

He clears his throat. 

When you see him, your face lights up and the way you say his name, with such warmth and adoration makes him feel worse somehow, “Kaeya!” 

Immediately, Diluc’s face hardens. 

“Apologies,” Kaeya says with perhaps more chill than he anticipates, “I didn’t mean to interrupt the concert.” 

“Not at all,” you respond, “how did we sound?” 

“Your music is lovely as usual.” Kaeya responds flippantly and you eye him for a moment, scrutinizing. 

And then, slowly, you say, “then you wouldn’t mind if we play a few more? This piano does bring back fond memories for me.” 

There’s a glint in your eyes; it could be the fire that favors you or a trick of the light. 

And because Kaeya pretends he doesn’t care, he says, “please; don’t allow me to stop you.” 

He takes a seat on the settee as far from you and Diluc as he can manage. 

Diluc sets his hands back to the keys and opens with a few, small notes, “do you remember this one?” He asks you.

“How could I forget?” You laugh, “I sang this one at every party and soiree we ever had.” 

And Kaeya also instantly recognizes the first chord that Diluc eases out, the tune of it like his childhood. He remembers you standing so small and young, by the piano which seemed so much larger when he was a boy. Your glowing face and sweet, little voice. 

And when you open your mouth to sing this time, it’s mature and warm, lower but more distinguished. 

The lyrics must come to you like from a dream, he’s sure of it. 

As if it was yesterday, you sing the song of a different time, a different lifetime ago it feels like. Of late nights in this very parlor, with laughter and the clinking of glasses. A house full. A heart full. 

You sing of angels and the moon in the sky, the stars, and a love from forever ago. 

And really, it’s so horribly fitting for you; the song is as in love with the world as you are. How could anyone sleep, you sing, how could anyone close their eyes to the night sky? To love? 

Kaeya realizes sharply that he feels as if he’s been sleeping for a very long time. 

He’s turned his eyes away from the stars and love and the whole world. 

And you, wonder that you are, have been desperately trying to wake him. To show him again. 

The last concluding notes ring softly, hang in the air, before you are smiling and leaning onto Diluc’s shoulder, hugging his broad arm to you happily. 

Kaeya looks at the two of you, the light and dark of Mondstadt. The joy and pride of the city, so beautiful in the fire. 

How could he ever compare to the two of you? 

“Kaeya, did you remember that one?” You ask suddenly, turning to face him. 

He somehow manages to unstick his voice, and lies, “not really.” 

After a moment, a heartbeat where you seem to see right through him, you ask, “shall we go home?” 

Yes, he wants to say. Let me take you home. Let me take you away. 

Instead, he says, “I’m hardly in a rush.” 

You stand from the piano bench and saunter over to him. Diluc turns to watch as you come to stand between his legs, peering down at him. 

“I missed you today.” You say honestly, “were you busy?”

Kaeya won’t return the sentiment in front of Diluc. In fact, he’s surprised that you’ve come this close in front of him at all. He thought this was supposed to be between the two of you and no one else. 

Selfishly, he wants to keep it that way. He wants you all to himself. 

Kaeya glances at his brother, then back to you. Diluc’s eyes narrow fractionally in suspicion as Kaeya says, “very, unfortunately.” 

You tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. Your fingers drift then, hovering around his jaw like you might touch him more. You don’t. You say, “let’s go home, then.”

You offer him your hand and when he takes it to stand, you don’t drop it. You tuck up against his side. Kaeya feels something wobbly and fragile take a few, tentative steps inside of him, like a newborn fawn. 

How strange, he thinks, to imagine you as openly his. How strange, to have your genuine affection, your genuine adoration. 

“Thank you for playing with me, Diluc,” you say with a smile, “I hope I wasn’t too much of a bother today.” 

“You’re never a bother,” Diluc promises like the gentleman he is, “and I am always charmed to play the piano beside you.” 

Diluc glances down at your interlocked hands. You let him look. Kaeya fights the urge to pull away and create distance. You squeeze his hand. You say to Diluc, “perhaps we should throw a soiree, the way our parents used to. I miss being in the manor. And then we can play for everyone again.” 

Everyone except the ghosts, Kaeya thinks, their faces pale in his eyes. 

Diluc seems as wary as Kaeya is, for once, but it is so hard to deny you. Kaeya knows that well. 

As if to sweeten it, you let your head tip onto Kaeya’s shoulder, cuddling up to him even closer, “I think it’d be great fun. A reason to come together again.” 

Diluc meets Kaeya’s eyes briefly and he can already feel the scolding he will receive. He can already feel Diluc’s doubt and judgment. But instead of starting a quarrel, he says to you, “Perhaps we can arrange something.” 

And really, Kaeya thinks it's a testament to how charming and lovely you are. 

You bid Diluc goodnight, sweet as ever, and lead Kaeya out by the hand. 

He can feel Diluc’s gaze burning into the center of his back. 

And the moment you pull him around the corner and out of Diluc’s eyesight, you turn and suddenly pull him down into a deep, slow kiss. 

Kaeya’s eyes flutter in surprise and immediately, he attempts to pull away from you. It’s one thing for Diluc to see the way you held his hand, it’s another thing entirely for him to catch the two of you like this.

You hardly let him get a word out, before you’re pulling him back down into a dirtier, heavier, more desperate sort of kiss. 

He yields with a soft, surprised noise of wanting. He kisses you back, just as dirty, just as desperate—tongue licking into your mouth, heat stoking to life along the nape of his neck, the curve of his spine. 

When you pull away, he manages to get out, “well. Hello to you, too.”

You smile, wide and lovely. “I did miss you.” You say again, as if you know you have to convince him, and that he never believes you the first time. And still, he thinks you must be lying. You’d never miss him. 

But you lean up onto your toes to get him to kiss you again; which he does. Easily, happily. It’s gentler than the previous, a little more content, though no less heated. He draws you closer, as close as you can get. His tongue dips gently into your mouth, deep and hungry and exploring. He feels the fabric of your dress bunch up beneath greedy hands, pulling at them, pawing at you. 

A cleared throat. 

The two of you jump apart, whirling around to face Diluc in the entryway. 

He does not look pleased. 

Kaeya, for once, feels like a younger brother again, caught red handed. He opens his mouth for some strange excuse, but you beat him to it;

“We’re taking our role as a couple very seriously. Archon forbid the Fatui question our legitimacy.” 

Kaeya can’t help the laugh that barks out of him, before Diluc’s glare forces him to clear his throat and compose himself. 

“I can see that.” He says dryly. 

“It was my fault,” you then add, “Kaeya is, for once, blameless. I’m a bad influence.” 

“I highly doubt that.” Diluc drawls, “he’s never blameless.” 

Kaeya opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it again.

“We will truly be taking our leave now.” You then say, tugging at Kaeya’s hand, “goodnight, Diluc!” 

The door slams hard behind you. 

Kaeya looks at you, your back to the door, chest heaving a little. You look back at him. 

And then you burst into laughter. He shakes his head, but he can’t stop the smile that comes onto his face. The laugh of disbelief. 

“Diluc is going to kill me,” he finally says, “I can’t believe you.” 

“Oh,” you coo, striding past him, “should I protect you? Diluc is harmless.” 

Kaeya laughs again, though this time it’s dryer, not as funny, but more ironic. 

Well, he has an eyepatch to certainly prove otherwise. You must catch onto his shift in mood, because you take his hand again and assure him, “I’ll deal with Diluc, if you’d like.” 

“No,” Kaeya says, “no need to fight my battles.” 

“I did get you in trouble.” 

 “Well, that I can’t deny.” Kaeya agrees with a smile, slipping his hand around your waist and this time, he knows it is real. Realer than ever before. 

The stars are bright above your heads. The moon is full and shining like a coin and casting you in its soft light. Your eyes are crinkled in delight. 

“You’re also a liar,” you add and Kaeya pauses, looking at you.

It strikes a strange note in him. 

You continue, “I thought you said you weren’t the jealous type?” 

Kaeya’s brows prick upwards, “did you think I was jealous?”

“Kaeya,” you say his name warmly, with love, “I could feel you glaring a hole into the back of our heads while we were at the piano.” 

Kaeya laughs, but it’s rather hollow, “I’m not the jealous type, my dear. I’m sorry to disappoint. Did you have fantasies of being ravished by me in a jealous rage?” 

It’s a little barbed. 

If you notice (which you do), you don’t take his bait. 

“Well, now that you say it…” you tease, walking backwards and in front of him, a sly little smile on your lips. 

Kaeya shakes his head, “there’ll be no ravishing.” He promises, “I’m being a gentleman.” 

“Hm,” you hum lightly, “and how long do you plan to keep that facade up?” 

“It’s not a facade–” he starts to protest, but your hand is winding in the front of his shirt to pull him back into your orbit. 

You pull him into a hard kiss. 

This one is more desperate. Heavier. Hotter. 

He sees what game you’re playing. 

The walk home, in Mondstadt’s streets, for everyone and the moon to see, is a game of cat and mouse. Kissing hard and soft, slow and fast, against brick walls and wooden fences. Leaning into shadows and sharp, little gasps. Teasing kisses along the jaw, before slipping away, and back into the night. 

You manage to lead him right up to the threshold of his bedroom. 

He takes a stance here, roots himself down. He swallows hard—he has to steel himself, he knows. 

So he goes no further than the arch of the doorway, no matter how much you pull at him, or kiss him or tease him. And as hard as it is, he doesn’t even sway when you gaze up at him with that look in your eyes; dreamy and enamored. 

You look at him like he could be a great man. 

It’s absolutely horrifying. His heart jumps in his chest. He can feel as if he can hardly breathe.

“You really won’t sleep with me?” You ask, lips hovering just beneath his. His hands are latched tight to the doorframe of his bedroom as to stay them. To keep his resolve. 

Kaeya shakes his head, “I’m a gentleman.”

You let go of a tired sigh, “I don’t need you to be one.” 

He swallows hard. 

“I’m afraid I need to be one.” He answers. 

“I didn’t take you as chaste.” You murmur, kissing at the corner of his mouth, his cheek. All that warmth comes rushing back to him. 

“Hardly,” he scoffs reflexively, allowing you room at his throat, down the length of his neck. “But I am trying to preserve–” 

He stalls, when he feels your tongue at his pulse. 

You blink up at him innocently and supply, “you’re trying to preserve–?” 

He clears his throat, “some level of professionality. Dignity, maybe.” 

Protection, too, though he isn’t sure anymore if it’s for you or him. Perhaps both. 

The only way he sees this ending is poorly–he cannot foresee a current future where you don’t end up disappointed and hurt by him. He cannot see a future where you don’t leave for your own good. 

And besides, all things must end, he knows, all people must leave or be left behind. 

He was left once and he’s vowed to never be left again, standing in the rain, shivering and young. 

(He tries not to think of you—left at an altar.)

You pull away to look up at him, sweet-eyed and gentle, almost amused with him. “If you say so.” 

Reluctantly and with a great deal of his strength, he leans away to put distance between you. Coldness sweeps in. He tries to appreciate it. “You should sleep. You have rehearsal early tomorrow morning.” 

You step away as well. You offer him a little curtsy in jest, “as you wish, my most proper and chaste lord.” 

“I’m a lord?” He asks, astonished. 

“A prince?” you ask, “or do you prefer a knight? We can roleplay, if you’d like–” 

“Goodnight!” Kaeya announces then, reaching for the doorknob to begin swinging the door closed, to put distance between whatever it is growing between the two of you. 

You laugh, though, so warm and wonderful at his antics that he just can’t help it; he kisses you once more, soundly, goodnight. 

And this time, he says it gentler, lower and sweeter in a way he knows makes you shiver, “goodnight, princess.” 

He watches you fluster, the way you blink up at him. And now it’s his turn to laugh, low and soft and hot, before he quickly swings the door the rest of the way shut. Locking you on the other side of it. Far from his reach. 

Lest he do something horrible. 

Lest he want you too greatly. 

But when he lays down on the couch to sleep that night, he realizes he can hardly sleep at all–and, really, he thinks, who could sleep at all? With the night sky like diamonds, and the way you kiss him like you have everything to lose, and everything to gain. 

Like he could be desired to keep. 

How could he sleep at all? When there is a door between the two of you? And the world hums and glows and shifts, right from underneath his feet. 

How could he sleep? He hears you sing, around and around in his mind, at the piano of his childhood, and the one tonight, a lifetime later. 

***

Finish the rest on Ao3 ->

a/n: this act was too long to post on tumblr in full and i would've had to split it into three separate posts. i figured linking ao3 would be easiest to finish reading :)) thank you for reading!! let me know your thoughts!! <33

[danpuff-ao3]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @lizzy0305! 😘

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

118 altogether. Some old Marvel fics, some meta...107 of them are HP fics.

2. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently only Harry Potter, though I've got some old Marvel ones up.

3. Top five fics by kudos:

Oh hey! It's changed since I last checked...my Top 5 used to be all from the Yes, Daddy series, but a couple of others broke through! Now we have...

Daddy's Boy

Obscene

Daddy Knows Best

Breed Me, Daddy

Contempt

4. What’s your total ao3 word count?

749,120 as of now!

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do my best to! I've had a hard time keeping up with it lately, but my goal is to get to them all eventually...I want all of my commenters to know how very much I appreciate them!!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Haha...haha...huh. Idk. I write too much angst 😭 How am I supposed to pick? I think either A Matter of Time or In My Veins (In My Blood) are probably the worst 2, maybe?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

...do I write happy endings? Jk, jk...Oh yeah! The Curse of Anteros for sure has a happy ending. A well earned one at that!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes! Collateral Damage got some hate for a certain twist 👀 Most of my dead doves get weird comments, because I don't pull my punches. The odd weird or rude comment scattered elsewhere. I try to handle it with grace, but honestly I'm a big ole sensitive baby so...🥲

9. Do you write smut?

Oh hell yeah 😈

10. Craziest crossover?

No crossovers really, though I want to write a HP + PJO crossover one day...

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, and may it stay that way.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yep! And I'm super honored by it!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not yet! But I'd like to one day.

14. All time favourite ship?

Snarry 4 life.

15. What’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Probably old ones from my earlier days, but anything I've posted within the past few years I fully intend on finishing. Even if smile with sweet surprise only gets 1 update a year 🤣

16. What are your writing strengths?

idk 🥲 umm...I write emotions pretty well I think. I write angst pretty well especially. I really care about the characters and portraying them as honestly as I can, and as real as I can, accepting all of their humanity, good and bad.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Hmm. I don't think I could write fluff to save my life...I've made some attempts but 😂 I struggle a lot with my work for various reasons, none of them easy to put a name to. I do have a hard time balancing the idea of...wanting to leave a lot to implication, but trying not to be so subtle people don't actually have a hope of catching on at all. (Thank god for beta readers.)

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I like it, but I worry about Google Translate failing me 😭

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Harry Potter!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

For sure it's Contempt, and its counterpart Devotion. Truly the story of my soul. All of my feelings about Snarry poured into it. 20+ years of passion and devotion to this pairing! I'm not sure I could love anything more or be prouder of anything more. (Though I do think The Curse of Anteros is my best work, but Contempt/Devotion will always have my heart!)

Tagging: @perverse-idyll, @writcraft, @ac1d6urn, @loneamaryllis, @fleetingdesires, @greenmegsnoham, @lqtraintracks, @somnwritessometimes, @aeternumregina, @broomsticks, @thistlecatfics, @maesterchill, @wolfpants, @mintawasalreadytaken, @saintsenara, @the-paper-monkey, @ashesandhackles, and anyone else who wants to play!

[orphicpoieses]

Life Lately

Hey there! It’s been a while since the last time I posted something.

Life was a little bit of a rollercoaster in the last few months but more on that later. If you wonder what happened to my inbox and tags: I simply forgot.

No, seriously, I have no view over the activities on here since last year summer, I guess. So I will just drop all the asks and start new.

If you already know me: welcome back to my small blog. If you don’t know who I am:

Hi. My name is Mimi. I am an aspiring writer for (dark) fantasy series and pen and paper games. Normally, I didn’t do much besides talking about my writing, but since I shifted in my day to day life to a more and more challenging and exciting schedule, I will probably turn this blog into a life diaries or something similar.

To give you a short overview over the recent events in my life, I will briefly go over them:

I had quite a pause on Project Rosary, but started again a few weeks ago. There is not much to say about this project, besides that I somehow got to meet some of my future beta readers? I now have a list for all of those people (a total list of 5 - perhaps more). I haven’t even finished draft one… I don’t know if this is a good thing or not xD

I started programming my Discord bot again! Kupla will have even more features in the future, which are currently only accessible for my close friends (Guild ID is set to our main server), but maybe, it will be available for more people in the future.

University is going quite well. I have gained a lot of new friends over the past year. I would even go over to saying I know so many people right now that I am literally overwhelmed by it to a certain point. Nevertheless, I never want to miss any one of them. Especially that one friend I am happy to call my boyfriend 💕

To be honest with you, I started writing several life updates posts but I never posted any of them. Even though so much happened in the last year and even though I could tell you so many things about all these events (organizing a huge party, being part of an official conference, publishing my first self-designed and co-written thing, new relationships, being in an official political position at university and so on and so forth), I am not sure what to write.

I don’t know if anything of this is interesting for you, since I linger in the writeblr part of tumblr.

Nothing - at least the 95% of the long list of things - is not writing related and I haven’t got the time to actually write on my own projects, even though I set myself an unofficial deadline to be done with draft 1.

Most of my time at the moment is consumed by university work and my mental health.

The truth is: my mental health is struggling at the moment to a point where my boyfriend and I agreed on changing our both schedules around, trying to become healthier in our sleep cycle, activities and overall mindset. He is way more mentally stable than I am, which is good for someone who is constantly overthinking stuff but also sometimes very frustrating.

My goal to change my daily routine is one of the most important things at the moment and by far the most present topic in my life.

I understand that this is not the content you hoped for when you saw my blog in the first place. I mean, I am originally a writing blog and people subscribe for a reason: to see exactly the content they hope to see. But at the moment, this blog is more a personal diary, instead of a blog about my projects, doing fun stuff like tag games and shoutouts.

Yes, I still love writing. Yes, I am still going to drop content about writing in the future. But this is not the only content anymore for me.

I would go on and say “drop me in the comments if you are interested in following this new journey” but obviously I will find out over interaction and follower counts.

Perhaps, I will get active again, when I have more to tell than “yay, I worked on my project for two hours but unfortunately I cannot tell you what I exactly did because I cannot risk getting rejected by an agent because I told too much”. Because my writing project is exactly that: a secret so I have a chance to get published in Germany.

Anyway, I hope I didn’t bore you to death with my little life update or scared you away that my content will be changing if I am active again.

I hope to see you soon in either the comments, reblogs or in my inbox and I wish you a very nice day.

Group hug! 💕

Let me tag you for visibility (tell me if you don’t want that in the future!)

@thetruearchmagos @enchanted-lightning-aes @yourfriendlywriter @365runesofthesystem @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @mirrorthoughts @kaatiba

[lily-fics-11]

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 6 (Hazel Callahan, Bottoms)

Fic master post here

Tag list: @avocifera, @academiareid, @fictionalgap @dynsdiary @sndixz @athenalive @lamoobsessions @eloud12

(feel free to comment to be added to taglist)

The Girl Next Door

You hadn't been close with your neighbor Hazel for years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes

Chapter 6

Isabel and Brittany question you about Hazel. Your best friends can’t help but try and push you and Hazel together, and it seems to be getting to your head. It almost seems like Hazel is treating you like more than a friend?

Word count: 4.2k

CW: Profanities, not beta read

It’s Saturday night, at Brittany’s house, with her and Isabel. Brittany is painting your nails your favorite color when she notices the beaded bracelet on your wrist.

“H?” she questions. “Why the letter H?”

“Oh. The H. It’s for Hazel, actually,” you explain, avoiding eye contact and praying your face isn’t flushed.

“Are you guys like-” Isabel starts with clear excitement but you cut her off. “No, it's not like that. Like at all. Not even a little. We were always best friends, and now we are again.”

“Ok, fine, I guess. But we had no idea you two even knew each other until like a week ago. What happened between you guys because I’ve literally never seen you two interact with each other before now? Did you do something? Did she do something? Was it the both of you? Whatever happened had to have been bad, so why are things ok all of the sudden?” Isabel looks both confused and concerned. It makes sense why your best friend would be unsure of what to make of this confusing situation. You don’t even fully understand it yourself.

You take a deep breath before coming clean. “I’ve been in love with Hazel since middle school. But right when I realized I had feelings for her, she pushed me away, and I never knew why. I was in so much pain so I forced myself to move on. Make new friends, and eventually get into a relationship. But even though I had convinced myself otherwise, I’ve been in love with her the whole time. I found her bloody in the locker room after fight club one day and I couldn’t just leave her there like that. We ended up talking and reconnecting. I eventually confronted her, so she explained everything to me. I don’t want to share stories that aren’t mine to tell, but I will say that she just thought she was doing what was best for me. She apologized and I couldn’t help but forgive her. I know that Hazel never meant to hurt me, and I love her too much to pass up the opportunity to have her back in my life. All those years it felt like a piece of me was missing, and I finally had a chance to put things back together. I don’t have her the way that I want her, but it’s so much better than not having her at all.”

“Oh, wow.” Brittany takes a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea you had been through all of that. But are you sure that this is worth it? Hazel is a sweetheart, and she would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, but are you going to be hurting yourself?” 

You run a hand through your hair and take a moment to think about it. This is kind of insane. You could potentially do some major damage to yourself. But there is nothing you want more than Hazel. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Well if that’s the case I’m really happy for you. You guys would be so cute together.” Isabel claps enthusiastically.

You shake your head no at her. “Isabel, please, don’t get my hopes up like that. I have no reason to believe that she feels the same way about me. If anything I’ve got far more evidence for her not seeing me like that. I think she’s just happy to be friends again.”

“Hazel mentions you in the notes like all the time. Like way more than anyone else.” Brittany grins mischievously. You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” 

“The notes she takes every meeting and emails to everyone. Do you not get them?” 

You wrinkle your nose and furrow your eyebrows. “I get them. I never noticed it. I'm sure you guys are exaggerating and didn’t even think about it until now.”

Brittany laughs. “We have been suspicious since the first time we saw you guys together. Do you not know what you look like when you look at her? Haven’t you seen the way that she looks at you?”

Isabel is quick to add “you guys started driving to school together even though you love your alone time, and remember that night you hung out at her house? You didn’t answer your phone for hours and that is so unlike you.”

Before you even get a chance to defend yourself Brittany throws at you what she believes to be some hard hitting evidence. “I have seen you guys fight each other. The sexual tension is so obvious. I have never seen two people pin each other to the ground so much. Especially not with that hungry look in their eyes.”

You are at a loss for words, so you close your eyes and flop backwards to lay down. Isabel pokes your leg. You don’t open your eyes but that doesn’t stop her from asking “were you there the day we were talking about celebrity crushes?”

“Nope.” You hear her giggle. “Well I didn’t make the connection until now, but you know that actress that everyone says you look like? That’s Hazel’s celebrity crush.”

You open your eyes and sit up, feeling defeated. “I’m sure it is just a coincidence.”

“You can believe what you want, but I’m still going to be shipping you guys so hard!” Isabel squeals.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Isabel and Brittany were not kidding when they said they would be rooting for you and Hazel. You appreciate their enthusiasm, but you would be mortified if Hazel noticed them giggling and watching you stand next to each other at the next fight club meeting. Isabel and Brittany’s eyes light up when you and Hazel are paired up for a fight. Your friend's stares were burning holes into the back of your head when you were on the ground straddling Hazel’s waist. This is only going to feed into their delusions. It seems useless at this point to hope they keep their eagerness in check.

It didn't take long for them to try and set you and Hazel up with each other, they took the first chance they got. You were unaware of their scheming until they approached you and Hazel at the end of fight club to see if you guys would want to get ice cream all together. “A little sweet treat before we all have to study for that math test tomorrow,” Isabel offers with a smile.

Brittany makes an excuse to take you with her in her car. “You forgot your shirt at my house, I need to give it back to you.” There was no shirt. Brittany just wanted to prepare you for what definitely isn’t a date, even though she seems to think it is. 

Brittany glances over at you while she is driving. “Do you want to fix your hair?” She asks.

You squint your eyes at her. “Uhh.. why?”

She playfully rolls her eyes. “Don’t you want to look nice for your date with Hazel?”

That makes you laugh. “Brittany, it’s not a date if she doesn’t know that it’s a date.”

“You know what I mean. I have a hair brush in the glove box. There’s also some lipstick in there if you want to use it.”

“I’m not going to try and impress a girl who doesn’t want to be impressed”

“But isn’t it worth trying?” Without answering you pull the brush and lipstick out of the glove box and flip down the mirror. 

Upon arrival, you and Brittany meet up with Hazel and Isabel before going inside. You enter first and approach the counter to order. After scanning your options you tell your friends “I can’t decide between cookies and cream and chocolate chip cookie dough.”

“Hey same!” Hazel smiles at you. 

“If neither of you can decide between them, why don’t you just get both and share?” Isabel teases. God Isabel, right in front of Hazel?

“Oh… I, uh…” you begin but Hazel cuts you off. “Sounds like a good idea, right?” she asks expectantly. You just nod and force a smile. As much as you have protested it, you would love for this to be a date. But it's not, and you need to keep your expectations in check. Once the ice cream Hazel had ordered for the two of you is ready, you pull out your wallet only for her to step in front of you and pay for the whole thing without even asking. You blush and look away, accidentally making eye contact with Brittany who mouths “date” to you. Your palm meets your forehead. You really are grateful that your friends are trying to help you out, but you are going to have to explain to them that getting your hopes up will only make things worse in the end. 

You intentionally sit next to Hazel, it will feel less romantic than being across from her. Not being able to stare longingly into her eyes is for the best. However, that didn’t keep you from questioning Hazel’s every move. Yes you were sharing food, but why did she sit so close to you? Seats nearly touching, practically shoulder to shoulder, knees brushing up against each other if moving more than an inch. Even worse, why did she put her arm around the back of your chair everytime she sat back to talk? Hazel talks a lot. If you weren't paying attention she would do it without you realizing and her arm would end up slung around your shoulders. You would sit there, absolutely mortified, while Isabel and Brittany failed to contain their excitement, though Hazel was none the wiser. You did your best to avoid looking over at her, that award winning smile and warm gaze far too easy to get lost in. 

About halfway through the bowls of ice cream Hazel excuses herself to the bathroom. 

Once Hazel is out of earshot Isabel slams her hands on the table and leans forwards. “Sooooooo…”

“So what?” You sigh. 

“Come on, you know what she means,” Brittany crosses her arms and grins.

You put your hands up in the air like you have been cornered by the police. “I can’t say that I know what you guys are talking about.”

“This date!” The two yell in unison. 

“Oh my god guys, could you please keep it down? I hate to break it to you, but if Hazel and I are on a date, then you two are on a date with each other. Just two best friends, eating some ice cream, that's all.”

“You are sharing ice cream!” Isabel exclaims, gesturing to the bowl in front of you. 

You run your hands through your hair. “Because you suggested it.”

Brittany points to Hazel’s chair. “You guys are sitting so close together.”

“Well we're sharing the ice cream.”

“She keeps putting her arm around you!” Brittany sounds exasperated. 

“You can’t ignore the way she looks at you!” Isabel pleads.

You put your hands down on the table in an attempt to further assert yourself. “If you keep getting my hopes up it's going to hurt even worse when she finally gets a girlfriend or in some other way makes it clear that she doesn't feel the same way.”

Brittany looks so disappointed. “We wouldn’t be trying to set you guys up if we didn't think there was something there.”

“I want this so bad,” slips out of your mouth as wild fantasies dance through your head. 

“Maybe it's time that you give this a chance,” Isabel timidly suggests. 

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but only if she took the lead,” you admit, nervously twisting your bracelet and averting your eyes. 

Isabel and Brittany’s eyes wander behind you, so with panicked eyes you sharply run your hand past your throat, signaling that this conversation is officially being cut off. 

Even though there is no way she could have known what had been discussed while she was gone, you are paranoid that Hazel somehow heard everything. You worry that the feelings left behind are written all over your face. Fortunately,  nothing goes wrong as you all finish eating.

After cleaning up you are the only one to sit back down at the table. The other girls look at you, confused. You tilt your head back and groan. “I do not want to go home and study for this test. It's going to be miserable.”

“Well how much have you studied so far?” Hazel questions.

“Not enough,” you sigh. Hazel steps towards you and takes your hand. You can’t even imagine how unfortunate the look on your face is right now. She pulls you up to your feet. “Just think,” she tries to encourage you,”by this time tomorrow it will be over, right?”

“Yeah, I guess you are right.” You concede, expecting her to let go of your hand at that point, but she doesn't. Hazel holds your hand all the way to the car, and doesn’t let go until she has opened up the passenger side door and you have made yourself comfortable.

You can hardly believe it, but maybe Isabel and Brittany are onto something? Like this is absolutely mind boggling and insane. Is this even possible, or a mere delusion? Furthermore, are you actually starting to get your hopes up? You are playing a dangerous game, but you reap what you sow.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Last night you studied like your life depended on it, and it was exhausting. In the morning you hit the snooze button as many times as you can without the risk of being late, sacrificing a part of your morning routine each time you slammed on the button to make the blaring noise stop. In the end you walked out the door without a stitch of makeup in the sweatpants and sweatshirt you wore to bed.

You meet Hazel in your driveway. When you unlock the car’s doors she gets in right away. You open the door but stop to groan and pout. “I really don’t want to do this,” you whine to Hazel and she smiles and shakes her head. “Oh neither do I.”

“Then why don’t we just skip? We could stay home and binge watch something,” you suggest, half serious and half not. 

Hazel sighs. “I literally couldn’t want anything more.” Your breath hitches. “But, we both studied so much that it would be a waste to miss the test. Not to mention that your mom would kill the both of us if she found out that we skipped school.” Hazel leans over the center console and reaches her hand towards you. You take it and let her pull you into the car. You are very aware of how you keep finding your hand in hers. Are you unhappy about this test? Obviously. Are you slightly exaggerating because it means Hazel might hold your hand? That’s not even a question. 

You hesitate to start the car, so Hazel gently places her hand on your thigh. She tilts her head to the side, carefully observing you with a dreamy look in her eyes. Her hand placement was more than enough to snap you out of your mood. But the way she was looking at you? That just might make you risk it all. You fight off the urge to lean over and steal a kiss from the girl you love. 

When you turn the key in the ignition you are expecting Hazel to pull away, so you are pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t. Previously, you would have shied away from moments like these, but Isabel and Brittany have really gotten inside of your head. 

“If you want you can come hang out at my place after school. We can watch an old movie.” Hazel proposes. 

You look over and meet her gaze and a smile spreads across your face. “I would love that.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Hazel catches up with you on the way out of class after your test, putting her arm around your shoulders, causing a shock to your system. Though it’s a pleasant surprise, it isn’t easy to play it cool.

“So, how do you think you did?” Hazel smiles at you, looking at your… lips? You look down at your feet because you fear internal combustion, though still able to feel Hazel’s lingering gaze. 

You are so nervous that you stutter when you answer her question. “I-I um think I actually d-did well. How about you?”

“I’m going to be honest, I was a little distracted. I was thinking about, well, things. But I still think I managed to pull it off.” Despite her claims of having been distracted, she sounds rather excited and you can’t miss the opportunity to see that look on her face, so your eyes wander back up to meet hers. That cute goofy smile is more than enough to put all the stress from this test behind you. In all honesty, Hazel could erase just about anything from your mind. You know that your own expression must be mirroring hers. “Well I’m glad that you made it through okay.”

Hazel nods at you. “I’ve got to go but I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah of course.” 

Hazel pulls away from you, running her hand down your arm. The light graze of her fingertips momentarily lingers on your hand before finally drifting away and waving as she walks off. Hazel continues to look back at you until she stumbles into someone and has to turn her attention ahead of her.

------------------------------------------------------------------

When you get to Hazel’s house Mrs. Callahan is delighted to see you, and invites you to sit down with her. Hazel rolls her eyes and leans against the doorway with her arms crossed. You smirk as an image of what Hazel would look like doing THE lean crosses your mind. When you sit down next to Mrs. Callahan she slides a magazine over to you. 

“I want you to have this. You don’t have to look at it now, but there is a spread that starts on page 17, it’s from one of my favorite designers and every outfit would look absolutely amazing on you! Check it out when you get the chance and definitely keep this in mind the next time you want to do some shopping.” Mrs. Callahan is beaming at you. Hazel has always been a tomboy so she loved talking about fashion with you and would join you and your mom on shopping trips.

You thank her and then Hazel clears her throat, so you start to get up.

“Can I ask you a quick question?” Mrs. Callahan asks.

“Of course.”

She leans and whispers, just low enough for Hazel not to be able to hear, “you’ve put that ex girlfriend of yours behind you, correct?”

Your eyes widen, taken off guard by the personal question. “Oh yeah, she's no longer a part of my life,” you explain, doing your best to keep your voice down because it’s clear she wants this conversation to be private.

Mrs. Callahan looks satisfied and you can only assume that your mother had divulged the details of your tumultuous relationship. She continues with her hushed tone “you deserve much better than the way that girl treated you, honey. I don’t think you will have to look too far to find the right girl for you.” 

“We should head upstairs,” Hazel calls over impatiently. 

“I’m actually heading out now. I won’t be back until pretty late.” Mrs. Callahan informs you. Hazel grumbles a goodbye and you wave before she walks out the door.

“I’m going to put my stuff in my room, I’ll be right back,” she tells you before disappearing up the stairs.

After entering the living room a feeling of nostalgia washes over you. There are so many memories here of blanket forts, movie nights, and playing games. After leaving your things in the corner you sit down all the way to the side of the couch, right up against the arm rest. It’s not long before Hazel appears in front of you, “Do you know what you want to watch?” You suggest a movie and Hazel thinks it’s a great idea. 

She takes a seat in the center of the couch, as if to give you some space, while also testing the waters of trying to get close to you. You aren’t quite sure how you feel about this yet, but decide to live in the moment. While looking at the tv, out of the corner of your eye, you see that Hazel is watching you. She looks a little dazed, eyes soft, biting her lip. When you look over to her she quickly snaps her head towards the tv.

The movie is lighthearted but anytime you and Hazel look at each other the eye contact is intense. Whether you are laughing at a joke or reciting a quote in unison you kept getting caught up in the moment. The part of the movie you were reacting to would pass, but you would still be gazing into her beautiful eyes, and she would be staring right back. Then, the two of you would realize what you were doing and regain your composure. 

You start to feel cold so you get up to get the sweatshirt you have in your backpack. 

“Where are you going?” Hazel questions, and you peer over your shoulder at her. There is disappointment in her eyes, seeing you walk away.

“Just grabbing my sweatshirt,” you reassure her.

“Are you cold?” She asks, looking concerned, and you nod your head. 

“I’ve got a blanket right here, if you want to use that instead,” Hazel offers, gesturing to a blanket hanging over the back of the couch. 

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” You take your spot back on the couch and Hazel passes you the blanket. 

“I think I’m actually cold too, would you mind sharing?” She inquires, fixing her hair even though it looks fine. 

You blink rapidly, a little taken back. “No, not at all.”

“Is it ok if I, uh, sit a little closer? It would be easier to share,” Hazel asks, looking down and fidgeting with one of her rings. 

You nod your head at her once again, feeling nervously excited. Hazel slides over and when she said close she meant close, she left no space between the two of you. Shaky hands drape the blanket across your laps. You feel your heart pounding in every part of your body. Isabel and Brittany’s idealistic thinking has infected your brain. Should you make a move to see how she reacts or wait and see if she does? You decide to wait and see if she takes any initiative. You meant it when you said you wanted 

Hazel doesn’t leave you waiting for long. She rests her arm behind you, on the back of the couch, like she is inviting you into her. You obviously take the bait. There was no space to close between you but you lean your weight into her and rest your head on her shoulder. Hazel then wraps her arm around your waist, holding you against her. It all feels like a dream, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her body next to yours. You are buzzing from the way her hand is firmly planted on your waist. Her voice is like a melody and her laugh is like a warm hug. You savor every moment with her.

After the movie is over, and you are getting ready to go, Hazel puts her hand on your arm. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what did my mom whisper to you earlier?”

“Oh, she just asked about my ex.”

“She asked you about what?”

“My ex.”

“Sorry, I heard you the first time, I just can’t believe she would bring that up, I told her not to.” Hazel sighs.

“What do you mean that you told her not to? Have you been discussing my love life Hazel Callahan?” You laugh at her. You aren’t mad, just intrigued.

“Your mom had told my mom about your break up, so she came to me to try and get more information. She was really worried about whether or not you were ok. I told her that I wasn’t totally sure, because we hadn’t talked much about it. But she knows that I wanted us to be, uh, friends again, so she was very hopeful that you were in the right place for us to start a- I mean start over. My mom would bring you up from time to time over the years, hoping we would be friends again. When I explained to her that it was hard to tell whether or not you were also in, uh, the right place for that, she told me that we are meant to be, I guess friends, so the opportunity would present itself.”

You smile, feeling a flush across your face, knowing that Hazel has always intended to get you back in her life. 

“Well, I am doing ok. I know a lot has happened between us, but I have a feeling that things are going to work out the way they are supposed to.”

[tipsygnostalgy]

On Grandpa/Jake Harley

you know shits about to be long as fuck when i add the keep reading line like four lines in lol

anyway anon all this is 4 u!! feel free to talk ab this by just tagging instead of rb i dont want 2k words to be posted over n over again

Grandpa Harley being some kind of pseudo-omnipotent deity figure who somehow figures out/guesses (my money's on guesses) extremely intricate details about the game and does everything he can to make things go right is something that we don't talk about enough. It's one of the only plans in Homestuck made that are orchestrated entirely by one person then ends up going right. It's that pattern of hoping that the cards fall into place in the right way (unless we're taking the Grandpa is practically God perspective, which is interesting in its own right)—but notably, he makes a lot of preparations beforehand. He's so... active. It fascinates me. I'll have to talk about this on the Jake English as Jesus Christ trope post (it's coming, I swear, brainrot's a bitch) but the sheer amount of things he does is astounding. But, lo and behold, he wasn't always like this. Cue: the Skaianet Systems Incorporated texts.

Quick note about all that. A very large portion of the things Hussie wrote for SSI is 1) dubiously canon, and 2) a bunch of anti-semitic bullshit that he probably never should have fucking released to the public, at least not like that. Like, holy shit, keep that and your weird comments about sexual slavery in your Notes app dude, we don't need to hear it. For this reason I suggest reading the actual material with extreme caution. Cool? Cool. On with it. Here's a lil' review of Jake Harley before the session.

Funny enough, Jake had always been kind of pathetic in the Beta session as well.

So Skaianet was actually established by HIC as a front for laundering technology from Alternia and Sburbian ruins. The key of SN was not to actually develop tech, but make it look like it so that people will believe you when your company just re-defined gravity for the hundredth time. Jake has to play the "famous genius shtick," but he doesn't do so well. When he fully inherits SN at 21 he runs it hands-on, and "believes" his success is due to hard work and diligence. He also "believes SN is now a considerably more distinct entity from Crocker Corp, and his leadership of the company is a result of his hard work and competence. Neither is true." He's manipulated by his at-the-time boyfriend (Charlie Chaplin, somehow) into letting a rebel force into the Crocker manor, though the effort is ultimately thwarted by HIC.

He also has a disastrous love life. His relationship at sixteen with Chaplin consists of Chaplin finding him "obnoxious and thoughtless" though he "can't seem to quit him," and Jake ultimately "[toys] with his heart, and [abandons] him." This later (much later, think decades) manifests into something way worse when Chaplin appears in an outing Jake has with one of his families (he's had many, though not at once) and tries to kill Jake for not just his involvement with SN/HIC, but for breaking his heart as well. Notably, in this scene, upon having a gun aimed at him Jake reflexively hides behind his wife, who ends up being shot in his stead. He's out-strifed so badly that he'd have died in the jungle (oh yeah he takes his wife and 5yo son to a jungle btw) if Chaplin didn't have a divine intervention moment afterwards.

At 32 he also abandons his post at SN for fucking around Europe. "[H]e's out exploring and adventuring, completely oblivious to whatever's going on in Europe. He hops from site to site, looking for Sburbian ruins to plunder." One, the "whatever's going on" is WW2, again, somehow. Two, he has a daughter there that he "takes custody of, apprentices as an adventurer, and takes all over the place on his adventures." When he takes her to Hawaii she ditches him because she's sick of her "douchebag dad." And there's that Jude family too, obviously.

Oh, and all the Beta guardians are also meteor babies. It's how Jake ends up finding Dirk and Roxy to begin with—he sets them up with trust funds in Texas and New York so that they can be of use to SN later, though whether he knew their importance in the larger context of SBURB is unclear.

All caught up? Great.

The exact details of how every event goes down aren't as important as the lessons you can draw from it, namely: Jake Harley is an absolute fucking mess of a human being. He continuously creates families—notice how he keeps having children with his wive—then is bereaved of them. A few times he abandons them, a few times they abandon him, and sometimes they get killed by your ex-boyfriend. It's a neat little insight into just how neck-deep these commitment issues lie, but it's also fun to consider that he seeks it so desperately. This man has on record has had:

one wife be shot dead in front of him

a son who was technically kidnapped from him by the man who almost beat him to death (his ex-boyfriend)

a daughter ditch him in the middle of hawaii for being a shitty dad

a daughter (joey claire) be teleported by portal to alternia, who hated jake so much she took her dead mom's last name

said dead mom/wife whom upon her death leaves her children "Semi Orphans" because he just straight up ditches his kids to go work on hellmurder island

probably more

And he still considers himself a grandfather to Jade. TBF, I guess the easier way of explaining it is that it's simply the natural explanation—they are sort of related after all. But considering that he once sired an illegitimate daughter and not only took her into custody but tried to raise her as his liege, I still find it the fact that he tries over and over again to the point of rending the family meaningless interesting. I think it's viable that Jake wanted a family—not one where he and Jane were raised by HIC and poorly—but a real one. His attempt to raise that first daughter to mirror his habits reflects the way HIC raised Beta Jane to mirror her. Yet after relationship after relationship goes horribly wrong, this desire fades into a kind of apathetic unsureness to the point where this is what he says about his last "full" family, the Harley-Claires:

He's been making good headway on his quest for the mysterious island in the pacific. Once everything is taken care of here, he'll leave this family behind and set up shop on that island permanently. That's when the real work begins. The discoveries on that island will finally unite him with the destiny he's been in search of his whole life.

Two things of note. One, his first recorded instance of permanently setting up jackshit anywhere is at first with SkaiaNet then at Hellmurder island. Both locations share that theme of "destiny" in common—notice how he considers SN divorced from Crockercorp because of his efforts and tries to make the place overall less HIC-controlled, but ultimately fails. And sure, he later achieves this kind of destiny by having his Sburb plan go "right" but before this not a single "plan" he established went correctly. Jake in either timeline isn't a guy who regularly makes plans for multiple efforts—they zero in on one goal that appears as part of their calling and makes it happen, damn it. To him, that's a success. Whether he "actually does" is up for interpretation.

See, HIC actually wanted the Beta kids to play the game. She'd been using the Beta session as a "testing" timeline, knowing which events and people to avoid and keep in mind so that she can play everything out exactly the way she wants it to. Part of the reason why Crockertier Jane was so firmly for marrying Jake and having children was because that had been HIC's idea of what Beta Jake's purpose was once he landed on a Meteor (after B!Jane). So he saw the "big picture" in a bigger way than quite literally anyone else, but it still isn't enough, at least not in the way he thought it might be at first.

Prior to his discoveries on the island, Jake has no idea this will result in some kids using the software he's unearthing, which will destroy all life on Earth. Nor does he have any idea that those kids will be using this same software to reboot the universe with different starting conditions, thus ending this "trial run" timeline for HIC, and giving her a fresh start. Exactly as she planned.

This implies there is some moment that Grandpa Harley realized that everything he was doing would end up playing into the HIC's hands anyway. This also implies that he carried out those actions regardless, Hoping that Jade would someday win the game in the process. Are you seeing the parallel for my interpretation of Ult. Jake yet? Fuck.

What was the moment he realized? Did he power through anyway, hoping there was a bright light for Jade at the end of this all?

He's also a hoarder. He keeps items and objects instead of people. He hangs onto the past to the point where he's seemingly unable to let go of it—trophies, guns, artifacts—but throughout the entire Harley Manor there is not a single picture of his families. And that's where his dolls come in—dolls are just human enough but not too human, you can control them however you'd like yet delude yourself they are company. I'm not saying all doll-enjoyers are this way, but the specifics in which Grandpa (and Bro to an extent, for that matter) interacts with his dolls makes me believe he's turning them into pseudo-human entities because at the end of the day he again craves company. But, unlike Jake, Grandpa Harley's had a lifetime of experience reinforcing over and over again that this will never happen with a real person. And fuck, don't even get me started on the taxidermy—it's the very act of taking something, bereaving it of life and subjectivity, then keeping it for yourself. You can see how this has even affected Jade in the sense that she thinks about her taxidermied dead Grandpa (who she taxidermied himself, by the way) like a living, breathing person. And Jadebot? A robotic, perfect replica of his granddaughter, designed to monitor her at all times instead of him? And the parallels that has to Brobot. Ughghgh.

Also, quick digression. You know how Beta Dad & Mom were on the Battlefield? And how Grandpa landed just to recover Jade's dead dream body, then left Dad and Mom behind. Sorry, I'm just not normal about that at all. How did we collectively miss the sheer tragedy of that situation, God, I wonder what Roxy was thinking. Digression over.

All in all, what these files tell me is that the way Jake was written was no way accidental. Yeah he got fucked over in the Alpha session, yeah he's tragic, but he's tragic for a reason that I ultimately appreciate even as I clutch my heart and dramatically fall over from pain. He knows just enough about the meta-reality to cause feelings of absurdity but powers through it; he's supposed to be put in seemingly insurmountable situations and emerge, through one way or the other, victorious. He's supposed to have the strangest relationship known to man regarding other people and, as a result, try to find compromise between the two halves of "complete fuck-all isolation" and "the company of any developed adult human ever." He's goal-oriented only when it presents a clear-cut destiny to him, when he can see the significance of it, and otherwise floats around doing fuck-all in this world. This goal is, most of the time, people: Dirk for LE Jake, and Jade for Harley. It's also fun insight into where Jake could potentially end up going—as this post by Cooper already pointed out, Ult. Dirk's actions mirror Bro's need to micromanage and control everything in his life to the point where he, much alike Bro, secludes himself in an apartment while running his inner machinations unknown to most others. I wouldn't be surprised if Jake ends up in a similar way to Grandpa, giving his all to a dreary situation and maintaining Hope through it with the desire that it'll eventually succeed.

It would also be fun if his Hopes only came true after his death.

Alright, analysis over, everyone clock out. Good work, people. [Vaguely gestures to the reader.]

[drgrlfriend]

Fic Writer's Showcase Game

I was tagged by @there-must-be-a-lock - thanks!

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason. <3

First Fic: Full Circle

So, this is how I got into writing fanfic. Someone on a non-fandom message board I was on was a big fan of fanfiction, and I thought, "Wow, I haven't thought about fanfiction since my X-Files days! I wonder what it's like now?" I went to FFN (this was pre-AO3) and the top fandom was Pirates of the Caribbean, which I didn't know much about, and I think the second top was High School Musical, and the third was X-Men. So I read some X-Men stories, especially Wolverine/Rogue, and one of them was a very compelling story about pregnancy loss which ended with a very ambivalent ending -- basically, a phone ringing and you don't know if the character will pick up. My friends, I COULD NOT SLEEP. I had experienced a pregnancy loss in the prior year, and I *had* to write a happy ending to this story. In retrospect, it was the RUDEST thing but I was new to fandom and I didn't know anything. I wrote it in an email and then eventually sent it to the author like a cat dropping a dead mouse in her lap, and she was very kind and encouraged me to post it. And that was ::checks notes:: at least a decade ago. Yikes.

Last Fic:

Chrome-Plated Heart Technically a WIP but it's all completed and is just posting twice a week until it's done. A Winterhawk Marvel Pacific Rim AU.

One-Hit Fandom:

Hope

I am kind of a serial fandom monogamist and once I'm in a fandom I tend to linger for a few years, so I only have one one-off in the Cabin Pressure fandom and it's more of a ficlet. A little Douglas Richardson & Martin Crieff cutscene from St. Petersburg. I don't even know their portmanteau!

Favorite Fic in the Fandom with the Most Works:

Lucky in Love

Wow, I had to check but I'm actually now tied for fandoms -- Marvel and Teen Wolf both have 18 fics each. So, I'll go with Marvel, and Lucky in Love, my first Winterhawk fic. I think it's rare to write a fic and then not want to change much about it a few years down the road, but I still reread this one from time to time and I still really like it! Fic I Wish More People Read:

Quriosity

Hmmm. It seems greedy to say so because it got a great reception, both within the 00Q fandom and just objectively in terms of number of hits, etc., but I feel like there's not as much crossover between the Bond fandoms and others I'm in, so if there's one fic of mine I would encourage people to take a chance and try if they know me from Marvel or Teen Wolf fandoms it's this one. There's a lot of fics in my repertoire that have themes of touch starvation / touch aversion but this one is the mostest.

Fic I Agonized Over the Most:

Freedom's Reach

I'm tempted to say the current fic I'm writing (my selkie!Bucky MTH2022 fic) but I think that's just a tendency to think whatever you're writing now is putting up the hardest fight. Freedom's Reach is my Winterhawk historical AU (e.g. American Civil War era) with mail order bride, and I don't know what I was thinking to write 1.) Inherently uneven power dynamic, which is something I typically dislike 2.) In an era I know nothing about 3.) Requiring frequent misunderstandings which I typically dislike. My poor beta @kangofu-cb is a saint for all the whining and self-doubt she had to put up with as I wondered whether I was walking all those lines.

Fic that Sprang Fully Formed: For Everything There is a Season

So, Google tells me that the Four Seasons Total Landscaping debacle happened on November 7th, 2020, which means that within the week I had started posting this fic, and I'm pretty sure I wrote it in one evening. What can I say, I was inspired to think of ... Pierce ... and his ... Restore America's Glory supporters ... getting a pile of manure dumped on him. Go figure.

Proud of for Whatever Reason:

Pretty When You Cry

I am NOT good at writing short, capture-a-pivotal-moment-and-let-it-speak-for-itself fics. As the length of this post attests, I am a prototypical ADHD overexplainer. This fic managed to be short and sweet and intensely smutty but with all the feels somehow crammed in. And then, to overexplain, I had to do a second chapter from the other POV but I like how (to me at least) it doesn't feel repetitive or boring; it's the same events and dialogue but the internal narrative is so different it's still interesting. So, yeah, smutty little feels fic with Winterhawk failing a one-night-stand, check it out. I think between nox and lou most of the Winterhawk regulars already got tagged, so I'm tagging outside the fandom or people I haven't caught up with in awhile so, um ... @flamingo-queen-writes , @drunktuesdays , @pantstomatch, @shatteredhourglass, @1000-directions ... and anyone who wants to do this; I haven't been online for a bit so I'm sure I missed a bunch!

[hkblack]

So I've been seeing a lot of people talking about Good Omens Season 2 and the Final 15 and Angst. And I'm watching the conversation sort of become either you loved Season 2 fully because you like angst, or you have reservations/didn't like it/are upset because you don't like angst.

And that didn't sit with me right, because I actually am not anti-angst. I mean, let's be honest about some of the fics I've been beta-reading for (@aethelflaedladyofmercia's amazing Aziraphale's Children Series and @mirjam-writes Be Still My Soul Series to name a few--needless to say, if you read these mind the damn tags). So I've been digging into it, and I think I've realized what inspired my initial knee jerk towards E6, my early reliance on various Discord S2-Venting channels, and I'm hoping it'll resonate with other people and maybe help them put things into words.

So, you know, Spoilers, and Long Post below.

Again, I am not anti-angst. What I am is someone who doesn't consume in-progress media. I don't actually watch a lot of television, nor do I watch any of the big movie franchises like Marvel where you've got to watch 12 movies to understand how you get to the Thanos snap, and then you've got two more movies to resolve the Thanos snap, nor do I read book series that do not have a published end. I don't even read in-progress fanfic unless I am beta-reading it. The TV series I do watch tend to be Monster of The Week shows, Doctor Who, Criminal Minds, Bones, where you maybe will have a season/series arc, but the format is designed so that unless it's a season finale, the "main" story of the episode is tied up neatly in that episode (and maybe a special guest is around for a two part season finale, or mid season special, or whatever). And maybe something bad happens in the season finale (this building exploded, the Doctor started regenerating!) that's a "cliffhanger" of did he/didn't he die (set up for an actor to potentially take a season off, or gracefully exit the show, or deal with off season contract negotiations), but for the most part, there is still a resolution for that season and episode.

So as I'm looking at folks still processing their feelings, and moving through handling S2, what I'm realizing is that I don't actually think the problem here is the "angst" and I'm finding myself getting a bit frustrated as people have started drawing a line of "you like angst, you don't like angst" as what's causing the fandom to have feelings right now.

Good Omens the book is a completed form of media. As is the radio play. And the musical (ostensibly). And Season 1 was, also, a completed form of media. It did not need a second season to complete the story it was telling. Now, I'm sure as we do more digging once we do get the third season, we're going to see little seedlings that Neil planted in season 1 for us in the hopes of fulfilling a promise to his best friend. However, it was and remains a completed form of media.

While yes Neil did warn us that Season 2 was the connective tissue between 1 and 3, I think I was still expecting S2 to be a semi-completed form of media the way most television seasons are. Not everything is resolved, no, but we've arrived at the end of this book. But season 2 is not a stand alone book. It's a prologue to s3.

My reasons for not engaging with uncompleted media is not really something I've spent a lot of time poking at because it's not that serious and honestly completed or not, I have a hard time focusing on tv/movies/books anyway because the ADHBees that live in my brain. I had a professor in grad school ask me once if I ever allowed myself to do "nothing" and let my brain shut off. I went "Oh I go to the gym!" and she got snippy because that's not "nothing," and then I had to explain to her that that's fine for her brain, but for my brain, walking on a treadmill is the only time you'll actually get me to watch television and let my brain "turn off." So I started using the gym as a time to catch up on all the latest pop culture. Good Omens S1 was a rare treat for me in that I did put down my phone the first time I watched it, and I'm not sure my hyperfixation would've been as strong had I not watched it in 2020 when I couldn't go to the gym to watch tv. But from my initial reaction to S2 I think my problem with uncompleted media is a mix of ADHBees and a dash of anxiety. I don't mind a cliffe that I've created by stopping reading at X chapter in my book, or pausing the binge on X episode of this show, so that I can go to bed/work/the bathroom. And I don't even mind that end of the season "What happens to the Doctor next?" or "Did Derek survive that bomb blast?" Because I know that the current arc that I'm invested in is complete and the next season will be a new arc, that will answer those questions (that may depend on actor schedules).

As I sit with it more, though… Season 2 is great. I have some issues with the Not-Neil writing, I won't label it as Bad, but I will say there were moments where I went "That's not Neil or Terry" and I have feels about that, because for me, Good Omens is Neil and Terry. While Terry isn't with us and I expect it to be more Neil than Terry, I wasn't ready for moments that weren't either of them. I'll get over it as I watch it more (and have, already, started to love some of those moments). But my issue isn't the angst. It's that, this was a prologue, and I don't like engaging with uncompleted media.

I think a fandom that is 33 years old based of a completed book, you're going to have more people who also don't engage with uncompleted media--whether they've made that realization of themselves or not. I think the struggles folks are having has less to do with "I Love Angste" vs "I Loathe Angste" and more to do with "Is there any kind of resolution to this season's arc?"

It is my belief that we have been given an excellent set up for next season. Seriously! I'm very excited! But I don't think I was given a good resolution for Season 2. I can't even say Gabe/Bee is a good resolution because by the time we got to the fly, it had been a hot minute since I had really spent time with Jim/Gabe or Bee being the main character on screen. So I lost my investment in them. My investment was in Crowley & Aziraphale, Nina & Maggie, and Shax & the Archangels. Because that's what the writing told me to be invested in. Muriel is adorable, and I love her, but like Gabe and Bee, I could take or leave all of them and what we saw of them, tbh. Gabe and Bee's story was so rushed and felt so empty compared to the characters we did spend time with (I really feel like I have more connection to the Magic Shop and it's history than Gabe and Bee's history because of how we had that time in it spread out and given to us in a way that made us care, I sort of wish their relationship hadn't been a mystery to us, the audience, much the same way as Adam as the anti-christ wasn't a mystery to us, and that the mystery had remained "where is Gabriel's memory?" because then that twist of "Oh the Archangels wiped it--WAIT THEY DIDN'T?!" would've hit even harder) that even though you could point to this season and say that their arc is clearly what was resolved in this season--their arc didn't start until 15 minutes to the end. Maggie and Nina's arc was excellent, but also we only saw them telling Crowley about their end of the season resolution (the end of the story resolution will, obviously, be them getting together, as the angel Maggie knows, as Nina rolls her eyes), we didn't really get to see their resolution.

This season was a lot of filler, and that's okay! I know Neil told us there was connective tissue. I just wish there had been a stronger story to center myself on in that connective tissue so I wasn't left with such a strong feeling of: "...that's it?"

[vampyrsutton]

DabiHawks-A/B/O|Breeding

Summary:

Dabi hasn't had a rut since he first presented due to environment and suppressants. The League finds out and demands he take care of himself. The League is also sick of watching Hawks and Dabi pining like fools so when Hawks asks why he can't come to the base?

"Dabi isn't feeling well."

Cue Hawks showing up to be a good hopeful mate and bringing his assumed sick alpha chicken soup- oh you're in rut?

Ao3 Tags:

Breeding, Omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, Kinktober, Kinktober 2022, Alpha Dabi | Todoroki Touya, Omega Takami Keigo | Hawks, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Knotting, Dabi | Todoroki Touya Has a Big Dick, Dabi | Todoroki Touya Has Genital Piercings, post-sex cuddles, Dabi | Todoroki Touya Has Issues, Banter, Quirk Shenanigans (My Hero Academia), Quirk Misuse (My Hero Academia), Cum Inflation, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Aftercare, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor Being An Asshole, Todoroki Enji | Endeavor's Bad Parenting, Idiots in Love, Drug Abuse

"I told you not to fucking come here," Dabi growls down at Hawks who he has pinned to the wall. 

He and the entire League had told Hawks not to come in this week. Dabi had told them to give the birdbrain a reason, but either they didn't or he was just an idiot. Either way, Dabi was on the cusp of a rut and the last thing he needed right now was a potential mate showing up in his den like he owned the place. 

Hawks looks like he has been drugged with how fast his pupils pin and his eyes haze over at the overpowering scent of rutting alpha, but, for once, Dabi is thankful for that Commission training that lets Hawks snap out of it fairly fast. 

"Sooo, not a chicken soup kind of not feeling well?" Hawks clarifies, eyes at least clear now even if his ears are pink.

"No, it's fucking not." Dabi snaps, forcing himself to step back enough for Hawks to flee. "Now get out…and leave the soup." 

Hawks raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his tone but reminds himself that the alpha is currently going through it. "The others really need to make better excuses. And why couldn't you just tell me?" 

Dabi huffs, stomping over to his bed so he doesn't have to be so close to the omega's scent. "Shiggy dusted my phone and I haven't exactly had a chance to steal a new one." 

"What?" Hawks asks in confusion. "Why the hell would he do that?" 

Dabi mumbles something petulantly, but unfortunately for him, hawks have great hearing and the hero is no exception. 

"For future reference, I can still hear you. Bird hearing and all that. Also, I would've said yes." Hawks sighs, running a gloved hand over his face. "Dabi, what have we said about talking about shit?" 

Dabi just growls at him, barring long claiming fangs that make Hawks' omega purr. He stops this fairly quickly with a wince, however, looking at the other apologetically. He'd die before he actually apologized, but he hated doing anything Endeavor would have done to them.

"...You said 'would've'. That still apply to now?" He eventually huffs, still refusing to look in Hawks' direction but mostly not wanting to breathe that way.

Hawks' face flushes and he's glad the alpha is looking away so he won't be teased. "I mean, Rumi and a few other pros owe me some days? How long is your rut normally?" 

"No clue. Haven't properly had one since I presented. The old man didn't want anyone challenging him so put me on suppressant and I was too fucked for a while after I 'died' so my body just didn't. The last time one tried to start, I got some suppressants illegally. League found out though and won't let Giran bring more until my shit balances out." Dabi shrugs, eyebrows furrowing in thought. "Going off the first one, like four days? Who knows now though."

Hawks is staring at him in horror and once again having to remind himself that he can't castrate his formal idol…yet. "You did what ?! Dabi, you're 24 fucking years old?! You haven't had a rut in 7 or 8 years?! Let me call Rumi, you’re not getting rid of me now!” 

Dabi just rolls his eyes. “Every last one of you making a big deal out of nothing.”

Hawks just glares at him over his phone as it rings. “Let’s see if you’re saying that in an hour or- Hey! Rumi! So you remember how I covered those three shifts for you when you’re omega had a sudden heat? Mind if I cash in?”

{Finally taking a goddamn break, birdbrain, or did you let another heat sneak up on your dumbass?} Rumi laughs from the other end of the line as the wind crackles through the speaker.

Hawks rolls his eyes. “That’s not until February…or was it January?”

{Hawks, I swear to gods! Yes, I’ll cover your shifts. How many days you need?”

Hawks turns to the window as Dabi glares at him, mouthing ‘hypocrite’. “A week? Maybe more?”

{You taking a whole week off? Everything okay?}

Hawks huffs, looking back over his shoulder to mouth. ‘You’re lucky you’re hot.’ 

“Yeah, everything’s fine just…” Hawks trails off, looking to Dabi for what to say.

“Tell her. I don’t give a shit. Maybe she’ll know more about this.” Dabi signs, thankful that was a thing the Commission made Hawks learn. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth. Being grateful to the Commission twice in one day was not something he wanted to make a habit of.

“Okay, yeah I can tell you. I’m helping myyyy- an Alpha that I know.” Hawks groans at the teasing this gets him through the phone. “Yeah, yeah, it’s great. Anyway. Dumbass has been on suppressants for 7 or 8 years and hasn’t had a rut since he presented. Any advice I guess?”

{HE WHAT ?} Rumi yells through the phone. {Fuck a week, Hawks! I know a few others owe you favors, call them, too. You’ll probably need the whole next week to recover if you even survive! Your chances are probably better trying to get dick from a wild bear, the fuck is wrong with you two?!}

Hawk blinks, flushing a dark red. “I-It can’t be that ba-Da-Babe? You okay?” 

{Who owes you shifts? I’ll call them for you.}

Hawks takes in Dabi’s appearance as the rut finally starts setting in. He’s helped suppressed omegas before, that being far more common, but this is so much different. He can’t even remember if he learned anything on this in training before as he watches his fangs get somehow bigger, claws rip the sheets, his chest heaving in heavy breathes, and there was almost none of that beautiful turquoise left behind the black of his pupils. The worst? best? hardest part was how fast the scent of charred smores, snowstorms, and something unmistakable wild and dangerous but unbelievably alluring all at once fills the room. It conjured visions of being stuck in the house on a snow day, the weather too bad to even enjoy it. It’s scary, deadly even, but in front of a fireplace with the smores you burned on it, you feel safe and protected. It’s the only fiery scent Hawks has ever smelled that causes that feeling and is probably all that truly remains of the big brother Touya, but makes him understand just why the League loves him so much. Then there’s that extra note. It’s almost like a different fire scent, but not? Hawks has yet to put a name to it, but right now it’s taking over his senses, and not even the Commission’s training is going to save him from this as he whines.

{Fuck! Hawks! Names!} Rumi yells, knowing what that sound means.

“Huh? Um, Edgeshot Number 1, Backdraft, Mt. Lady, Kamui. That should be enough right?” Hawks drawls, pupils back to pinpricks and just wanting to go to his alpha.

{Number 1? Why wouldn’t you-Oh my gods, you’re fucking the villain!} 

“Trying to. Thanks, Rumi.” Hawks chuckles.

There are a few curse words on the other side of the line then a sigh. {I’ll come up with something that won’t attract media attention. Stay safe.}

“We will~ Wait!” Hawks pulls himself out of it a little when he smells a sour note to Dabi’s scent. “Tips on the rut thing?” 

{Send some feathers to my house, and I’ll get you guys some stuff. An uncle tried doing that shit to one of my cousins and I heard her first rut after was ugly. You two are the only reason I’m helping him.}

“Thank you, Rumi. Seriously.” He grins, moving the phone away to hang up. “See ya later.”

{Bye-}

“Thanks, bun- tsk. Thanks, Mirko.” Dabi suddenly growls out, feeling genuinely thankful enough to actually say it.

There’s silence on the other end for a moment before Rumi laughs. {One of Japan’s most wanted thanking me. Yeah, no problem. Just know that if you hurt him beyond normal rut shit, Tartarus will be the least of your worries!}

Dabi manages a low laugh of his own, a feral grin on his face. “Don’t worry, hops. I’ll take good care of the baby bird.” He growls, dragging another whine from Hawks.

{Mmm. Gross. Hawks send the feathers while you can still think. Bye!}

With that, she hangs up and red feathers fly out the window as Hawks flies across the room to collide with Dabi and bury his face in the damaged scent gland at his neck. “Dabiii~” He moans, licking futilely at the scent.

Dabi growls, flipping their positions so he’s on top, barring his fangs in Hawks’ face. “No caging me in. Especially right now. Wings should be fine.”

Hawks whimpers, mumbling an apology. “Your scent.”

“Yeah, the working ones are practically dripping.” Dabi snickers, leaning in close. “If you behave, I’ll let you lick it up.”

Hawks makes some chittering sound that’s usually good. “Gods, please~ You smell so good. Fuck so fucking good. It was so hard to finish that call.”

“I haven’t been able to see your pupils since my claws grew.” Dabi chuckles, trailing one down Hawks’ flight suit. “How many have we gone through this month?” 

“Don’t know, and definitely do not care. If you don’t do it, I will.” Hawks growls, pulling at Dabi’s shirt already. “Why were you even wearing this if you were about to be jerking it for the next week?”

“Scent messed you up fast, huh?” Dabi hums, sitting up to remove his shirt and help Hawks out of his. “Same reason we asked you to hide Toga at yours. It’s 7 years of pent-up rut. For all we know, it’s going to be painful and they were going to help if my pride eventually snapped and I couldn’t take it anymore. They’ll still be in and out to scent mark stuff whenever it’s quiet though.”

Hawks blinks, tilting his head. “Aren’t Shigaraki, Spinner, and some college kid mated? That leaves only Compress.”

“Yup and they're secure enough in their relationship to let me borrow Shiggy if it got too bad,” Dabi explains before letting out when a strange mix between a growl and groan rips itself from his throat. “Fuck, Hawks~ Seriously the last chance to back out. I don’t even know what my alpha has planned, he’s just going wild.” 

Hawks lets out his own little growl, pulling Dabi in for a messy kiss and running his tongue along the claiming fangs now protruding from scarred lips. “I have my safe words. Make me need that second week. Fucking ruin me, Alpha.”

Dabi’s pupils somehow manage to expand more as he growls, diving in for another rough kiss before he’s flipping Hawks over so he can get at him without crushing his wings. “You needed that second week anyway, birdbrain, but I’ll guarantee it.” He promises in Hawks ear where he’s leaned himself between the giant red wings to start trailing his tongue and teeth down the omega’s back, making sure to pay plenty of attention to the baby feathers at the base and watching how fast the hero melts. “I don’t know what this will do with my quirk though, so you might want to send most of these out of the room.”

Hawks whines, sending all but the baby feathers and a few at the base out. They were still a major sensitive spot so he obviously had to keep a few and cried out when Dabi wrapped one around his tongue. “Alpha!”

If there was one thing that could get an alpha to bend to their omega’s will, it was calling them alpha, and it seemed Dabi was no different as he growls and continue down until he’s met with Hawks’ already slick-soaked hole. “So wet already, baby bird. I’ve barely even done anything.”

“Believe me I know so how about we fix that!” Hawks snips, yelping when this earns him a bite to his ass cheek. Thank gods claiming only worked on mating glands. 

“Quiet.” Dabi snarls, sounding even less in control than before.

There’s another scent spike and Hawks feel drunk on it as he whines. If the alpha’s scent grows any stronger, Hawks is probably going to be thrown into heat himself. “Please~”

A rumble starts somewhere in Dabi’s chest and Hawks feels him startle at the sound before a quiet curse and long fingers find their way to his hole, claws thankfully retracted. 

"Fuck, you're fucking soaked." Dabi groans as he's easily able to slide two fingers into the base and draw a chirping whine out of Hawks. "I've barely even touched you, baby bird."

"Scent." Hawks moans, wiggling his hips to try and help Dabi find his spot faster. "Cool, safe, strong. Fuck such a strong alpha." There's another gush of slick around long fingers that causes a squelching noise. "Fuck, seriously, reel it back or neither of us will be able to think straight." 

Dabi raises an eyebrow before smirking wickedly. "What's wrong, baby bird? Gonna fall into heat?" 

He slips another finger in and Hawks whines. "If you keep smelling like that and that strongly, probably." 

Dabi snickers, leaning in close. "Well, you know something that sucks about being on suppressants so long?" He bites the other ass cheek. "That's not something I ever learned to do so at least you'll be able to keep up." 

Hawks' eyes widen, briefly wondering just how much the alpha's scent patches would even cost if not stolen. "You've gotta be kidding mE-Fuck!" 

Hawks' complaints are cut off by a pierced tongue being added to the two fingers already working him open. He hears the alpha chuckle behind him before he's whining when the villain sucks at his rim to draw out more slick. 

Dabi drinks in his birdie's taste and slick and can smell the smaller man's scent increasing with his own. It isn't long before he's honestly growling against the hero's now sloppy hole, trying to get every drop of slick can get. Fuck, it was almost intoxicating, the flavor of pine and something wild that makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise as though being stalked by a predator with just a hint of a somewhat salty-sweet flavor. It expands on Dabi's already cozy but dangerous scent to add salted caramel candy and zooms out on the house to reveal a cabin in the woods with wild animals scavenging through the blizzard. Dabi almost wonders if he could get drunk on it.

Hawks, meanwhile, has officially lost all reason as he feels his heat start creeping up on him. Between the alpha's ministrations and overpowering scent telling his omega 'Shhh, it's okay. You're safe. I'll hurt you so good', he honestly stood no chance and he let out a stream of moans, whimpers, and various bird noises that he knew only spurred Dabi on further. 

"Fuck, baby bird." Dabi slurs when he eventually comes up for air. "You are sitting on my face at some point during this shit, but right now, I'm going to fuck you through this shitty mattress." 

Hawks moans at the promise, lifting his ass a bit to better present and he looks over his shoulder with gold eyes all but devoid of pupils at this point. "Please, alpha. Dabi, please. Fuck me, please!" He whines, talons already ripping at the sheets just from the villain's tongue. 

Dabi snarls, slick shining on his chin and across his staples as he wrestles his pants off. 

There's a ripping noise and some distant part of Hawks sighs at the knowledge he'll have to go shopping again, but right now, neither really cares as Dabi groans at the release of pressure on his aching cock before a shocked gasp is heard. 

"Um, pretty bird?" Dabi prods, sounding slightly more lucid and definitely unsure. "It's bigger."

Hawks furrows his brow, having to force his brain to even attempt to catch up to what the alpha might be saying. "What?" 

Hawks forces himself up on shaky arms to see what has Dabi concerned enough to not be fucking him only to release a surprised chirp. "What the fuck?"

"I don't know?! Build up or some shit? My alpha being angry? Fuck if I know!" Dabi growls, frustrated and freaked out. 

Hawks just blinks, staring at the already normally big cock that has somehow grown bigger, and, honestly, it might just be the size of the alpha's knot normally. He hesitates for only a second before he lets his head fall forward in a moan and is back in a presenting position. "Please, Alpha."

Dabi's eyes widen, but his panic had honestly already subsided, his alpha far too eager to get ahold of the willing mate. "You'll definitely need stretched more." He growls out, rut-brain definitely winning right now.

"Noooo~, I can take it dammIT! Ahh~!" Hawks whines as the villain's tongue once again finds his entrance, this time accompanied by three fingers that Hawks is sure will be the death of him. 

Dabi groans into the hole clenching around his tongue, working diligently to get the hero as wet as possible, and enjoying the pleasant fuzz that seems to cloud his brain at the taste. Fuck, he really was gone for the bird, wasn't he?

It's not until he hears something that's a mix between a moan and a caw and a heavy gush of slick coats his tongue that he realizes he made Hawks cum, and a new rumble starts deep in his chest. 

'Mate came. Mate happy. Made mate cum.' He alpha practically purrs.

Dabi chuffs a little, blinking in surprise at the sound, but ultimately shrugging it off to check on his birdie. "You good, baby bird?" 

"Alpha, please~" Hawks begs, normally covered neck barred in submission. Dabi could claim him for all he cares right now, he just wants filled. 

The rumble grows in volume as Dabi leans over Hawks to lick at his scent gland and moan at the taste while he lines himself up. "Fuck, pretty bird. Okay, yeah, you're ready, just fuck you smell so good.”

Hawks chirps happily, his omega pleased with the compliment before letting out a long moan as Dabi sinks inside. Each piercing catches on his rim until Dabi finally manages to seat himself fully to the hilt with a low growl and Hawks talons tear at the sheets as he whimpers about how full he is. If he could figure out how to actually get his hand to his stomach, he was sure he’d be able to feel the alpha at this point and the thought only made him gush more slick. 

“Alpha, please~ Please, I’m ready just please, please fuck me already, please~” Hawks whines, squirming for any kind of friction. 

Dabi snarls, alpha in full control now that his cock is smothered in the omega’s somehow still tight heat, and gives only a few quick test thrusts before he’s gripping the hero’s hips and rutting into him with abandon. Already he could feel himself practically drooling pre and was pretty sure he could knock the hero up on that alone with how much there was. 

Gods, there was an idea. 

Did either have any desire to have pups?

Well, they hadn’t really discussed it. They weren’t really in a position to even consider dreaming of such things, let alone considering actually doing it. Dabi didn’t expect to live past killing his father so had never considered it period, but the thought of filling the hero heavy with his pups?

It was appealing, to say the least, and makes a low growl build in his throat as he went harder. 

“Look at you, omega. Taking my cock so well. Fuck, you’re gonna milk me dry, aren’t you? Gonna stuff you so full of cum. Fuck you full of my pups, baby bird. Gonna look so pretty having to waddle around carrying my pups. Gods, baby bird, you’d look so perfect.” Dabi growls, the sounds of skin against skin filling the room as he bottoms out on every thrust.

Hawks’ eyes widen slightly, but he’s on birth control and his omega is making him cock dumb so he can’t help but coo happily. “Alpha, yes! Please! Harder, deeper! Want your pups, Dabi, please~!” 

Something about Hawks still mixing his name in there, ensuring him that this isn’t just a hormone-induced fuck, makes him strangely happy in a way that he plans to never unpack as the rumble in his chest increases in volume once more. 

Maybe it’s the fact that he hasn’t had a rut in an unhealthy amount of time, maybe it’s just how pretty Hawks looks with his back arched and crying on his cock, maybe it’s the mental image of stuffing Hawks so full of cum that it escapes around his knot and marks Hawks as his in a way that won’t make them liabilities to each other if this all goes to shit. Hawks claims to have fully switched sides now, but Dabi’s been literally and figuratively burned before. Whatever the reason, Dabi can feel his knot swelling already and so can Hawks if the broken cries are anything to go by.

“Dabi, fuck, alpha~ Your knot! Please~! Want your knot! Want you to stuff me a plug me. Fill me with your pups! Please, want your pups! Want you, fuck, Dabi, want you so bad! Please~!’ Hawks babbles in a stream of barely coherent cries that has Dabi entirely short-circuiting and fighting for possibly his literal life to find a brain cell.

“You’re killing me, pretty bird.” He groans, fangs dangerously close to Hawks’ mating gland and body physically shaking with the force to hold himself back. His eyes when Hawks just bares his neck, gold eyes clear long enough to look at him meaningfully.

“You keep saying you want me to have a backup to tell people if everything goes to shit and I have to pretend I never defected.” Hawks pants, barely dragging his own brain cell out of hiding for this. “Not that I’d ever want to go back anyway.” 

Dabi lets out another groan, giving the gland a hard suck just to get a taste as he continues to pound into his perfect little omega. “Look at you, so brilliant, doing so good, taking my knot so well,” He growls, rhythm starting to stutter as his knot starts catching. Yeah, that’s definitely bigger than normal. “Nothing’s going to be able to escape around this thing, there’s no way you won’t be knocked up. Gonna look so good carrying our pups. Even if they’d be little gremlins.” He half laughs before groaning when Hawks clenches around him. “Fuck. You like that idea, don’t you, baby bird? Want me to fill you up until you’re swollen with cum? Gods, I wanna mark you so bad. Make sure the whole of fucking Japan knows just who you belong to inside and out. How does that sound, pretty bird? Want me to mark up that pretty little neck of yours with a nice big claiming bite to show off to all your pompous hero friends? Hm?”

Hawks cries out when his alpha sucks at his gland, his omega hoping he likes the taste before all further logic once again leaves the den when he feels the what has to be baseball-sized knot start catching his rim and grinding against his prostate. “Yes, please~ Fuck, Dabi, please~!” He cries, trying to fucking himself back on the knot threatening to break him in half. 

Another growl echoes through the room before Dabi is burying himself to the hilt as his knot pops and he starts filling Hawks with what is definitely an ungodly amount of cum while his fangs burry right themselves into the omega’s mating gland with a feral snarl.

Hawks’ vision whites out as all of the combined sensations make him cum hard on the sheets beneath him. He can distantly feel pain on his hips and hear his omega purring and cheering about the strong alpha marking him, but otherwise just kind of floats for a bit. When he finally starts to come back around, he realizes the purring might have actually been his own and coos happily when his purr is met with an equally happy rumble from Dabi.

“You back, baby bird?” Dabi hums in his ear as he runs a rough hand over Hawks’ already swollen stomach. When had Dabi turned them on their side?

“Mhmm.” Hawks nods sleepily, moaning a little when he realizes Dabi is in fact still cumming. “I’m going to be gushing cum when you finally pull out, aren’t I?”

“Alpha is convinced I have seven years of mating to make up for so probably.” Dabi shrugs against his back as he goes back to licking at the fresh mating mark. “You sure about this, baby bird? I know a guy who can remove it if not?”

Hawks coos at the attention to his slightly sore gland before letting out a little growl of his own and gripping the arm slung over his stomach. “Mine. I’m biting you next round.” He tries to glare over his shoulder before his eyes widen and he looks away. “Unless you don’t?”

A much more threatening growl than the omega’s fills the room and Hawks bares his neck making Dabi wince. “Shit, sorry, pretty bird. Don’t do that. I don’t want you subservient unless you want to be. I wanted to mark, and you’re more than welcome to mark me if you can find the damn thing under all the scar tissue.”

Hawks’ purr grows louder at this as he glares at the scars like a challenge. “I will,” he swears before his eyes widen when something angry and red catches his eyes. “Uh, Dabi?”

“Pretty sure I saw a pharmacy bag in the stuff that flew through the window if you want to fly those over so I can tend to it while we’re still locked together,” Dabi answers instead, hand gesturing lazily at the window and subsequent pile of bags in question. 

Hawks chirps happily, both he and his omega pleased with how quickly his alpha has taken to taking care of him even though Dabi always has anyway. Probably mating hormones or something. Whatever it is, Hawks pushes it aside in favor of flying the bags from Rumi over and shuffling them until they find the pharmacy one. 

“Guess she knew your quirk might go a bit nuts.” Hawks chuckles, handing the bag back to the alpha who immediately fishes out the burn treatment stuff to start tending to the angry handprints now on Hawks’ hips.

“According to Spinner, that’s pretty normal. Shigaraki can barely poke his head out the door before being pulled back inside when Spinner’s in rut so I’m guessing Rumi just assumed.” Dabi shrugs, carefully tending to the tender flesh.

Hawks hums in consideration before his eyes widen as he realizes Dabi can never find out who Rumi’s mate is. “Yeah, uh, sounds reasonable.”

Dabi looks at him funny for the weirdness in his reply but doesn’t question him on it as he struggles to turn and pull him so Dabi is leaning against the wall with Hawks’ back against his chest so he can get the other hip. “Fly the soup over here. I should be able to get my quirk to behave enough to warm it up so we can eat before it starts back up. The others will probably check in after a few more rounds.”

Hawks nods, sending feathers over to bring the abandoned soup to them. “Hopefully they won’t be too annoyed I misunderstood.”

Dabi shrugs, heating up the soup once he’s done with Hawks’ other hip and taking a spoon offered by a feather. “They should’ve gone with something else.” He hums, checking the temp before offering some to Hawks. “Eat.”

Hawks blinks, glancing down at his swollen stomach. “Um, I’m pretty sure you lost a lot more fluids than me, hot stuff.”

“Probably, but instincts are screaming at me to baby you so eat.” Dabi deadpans, inching the spoon closer.

Hawks can’t help but smile, rolling his eyes as he does as requested before taking the other spoon from another feather. “Fine, you turn then.”

They continue like this for a while until the soup is gone, pausing only so Dabi can finally pull out, before going through the bags from Rumi. They find some other high-energy and calorie food and drink that they get into a bit before suddenly Hawks gasps and makes a happy little chirp. 

“She sent nesting stuff!” He chirps, dragging it onto the feather-stripped bed to start arranging it. 

“She probably figured I was going to send you into heat.” Dabi pants, feeling another wave starting back up. “Want help or should I just try to control myself from jumping you in the corner?”

Hawks smiles, pulling Dabi over for a kiss. “You’re cute like this you know?” 

Dabi scowls, huffing and going to flop himself in his desk chair. “Nevermind. Fuck you.”

“Let me finish the nest first.” Hawks giggles in response and catches the plushie thrown at him. “Thanks, that will be perfect here.”

“I want a divorce.”

“Finish mating me first.” 

“Gladly.” Dabi grins, stalking back over to throw Hawks into the half-made nest and earning a yelp. 

It would get finished eventually.

~~~Meanwhile, Outside With The League~~~

“Finally!” Shigaraki groans, flopping himself back in Spinner’s lap dramatically. “Now they can stop eyefucking each other across the living room and we won’t have to deal with their pining bullshit.” A purr starts up as Spinner starts lightly scratching his scalp with his claws.

“Now just them possibly actually fucking in the living room and being idiots in love.” Compress chuckles from the bar where he’s playing with some cards. “Neither seems like they would know what to do in an actual relationship.”

Shigaraki groans, turning on his side to whine into Spinner’s stomach. “Dammit! New plan, I dust them.”

Spinner and Compress look at each other in amusement before Spinner speaks up now. 

“You have at least ten plushies and five blankets ready for Hawks to make a nest here including a weighted one and would be way too bored without Dabi to challenge. You would die before anything hurt anyone in your pack and I’m sorry boss, but you’ve marked them pack.” Spinner hums, chuckling when this just earns him a pout. “At least I don’t have to share you with Dabi.”

Shigaraki shivers, face twisting in dread. “Between you two, I wouldn’t be able to walk for a month. Thank gods, Hawks took the bait.”

Little did they know, just how hard he took it, and wouldn’t know for an hour more until they came in to find the half-made nest and prominent bites displayed on both of their necks and all over their passed-out forms.

“Huh.” Shigaraki blinks. “Well, that went even better than planned.”

[erythromanc3r]

Annual writing self-evaluation

I was tagged by @pipergirl17 (and I'm so glad she did - thank you, friend!)

1. List of works published this year (in no particular order):

Better Living Through Chemistry

Among the Willows

It ain't fiction, just a natural fact

kiss me where you bruise me

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

I'm proud of all my children but I'm most proud of myself for writing Among the Willows because it really did start as just vibes and it ended up being a lovely little vignette of a moment in time that I put a lot of research and love into. Honorable mention to Better Living Through Chemistry because it was my first PWP and I personally thought it was a unique and fun take on sex pollen.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

[buzzer noise] I am proud of ALL my children!!!!

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

I loved this exchange at the tail-end of kiss me where you bruise me because it was a good exercise in writing some post-coital awkwardness between two people who don't know each other all that well while still acknowledging that there's the potential for something more there. And I needed Eddie to take any opportunity to be a little softer and sillier bc he desperately wants Chrissy to not see him as mean and scary!

“I’m…good,” he says, throwing his palms up and flattening his lips into a tight, awkward smile. He’s looking for his right sock — she knows it’s on the other side of the mattress. Chrissy doesn’t know if it’s rude or not to grab it, worried Eddie might think she’s pushing him out when she’s not quite sure where she’d prefer he be. The red light of the alarm clock on the bedside table burns a bright 1:37 into the dark when she asks another question, maybe just to cut through the awkward silence. “Are you okay to drive home? It’s late.” (Where is home for Eddie Munson, anyway?) He smiles to himself a little before he answers her. “Nah. I’m a bit of a nocturnal creature, actually.” He throws two hands up, fingers curled out like he’s doing a vampire pose during a game of charades. “Still got a couple hours left in me.”

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

I'm a big fan of the incoherent flailing but I also really love when people engage with the details of the fic and tell me something they really loved about a particular line or description! I just love and appreciate getting comments in general!

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

November. Something about that month just zapped the energy out of me. This seemed to be a hard time for a lot of us for one reason or another…I propose we move NaNoWriMo to like…March or June or something because November is NOT it.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I gained a lot of confidence. I stopped obsessing over every line being perfect because I would rather have a finished product that others can enjoy instead of a gorgeous, perfect wip that no one else can read. And now that I’m not chasing validation (both internal and external) the process is way less stressful!

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I want to be more consistent! I want to explore more outlining methods, write more productively…and I want to be a beacon for other writers who are new to the process because the community aspect is so important.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@staceymcgillicuddy is a rockstar of a writer whose work ethic amazes me. @pipergirl17 my angel in the comments your work is gorgeous and you’re so kind. Extra special shoutout to everyone who writes fearlessly and freakishly because we’re all better for it. And everyone who encourages writers to keep going!

11. Anything in your real life show up in your writing this year:

Wouldn’t you like to know? Ummm honestly though nothing super personal but it ain’t fiction came to me over nights of sitting on my couch watching old metal videos on MTV classic and wishing those two kids made it out of Indiana and got a shot at their dreams.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

The time will pass! Writing is vulnerable and embarrassing but I am more embarrassed by the years I spent not pursuing this hobby and letting all those ideas never leave my brain than by ANYTHING I’ve published.

13. Any new projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I want to prioritize finishing all my multichapter wips…but I also want to explore more historical AUs.

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read:

(But only if you want to 👉👈)

@justhere4thevibez, @toodivineforhumanmind, @0nemorestranger