#i’d like to think i was a better person than that at 17 but like. i probably was not. for several reasons.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (chapter 16 + 17) tw: violence, injuries, and misogynistic language

first chapter >> last chapter

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Sinking into fear is the body’s natural response. You let it envelope you without putting up a struggle. It wouldn’t be one that you’d win anyway. Resistance already leaks out of you like tar, pooling around your quivering legs.  

It makes you feel lighter than air, almost buoyant; and conversely, heavier than lead. 

You can’t feel the cold metal of the gun through the layers of fabric separating it from the skin of your back, but you can feel its weight. And you can imagine it burning into you, burning a ring into the flesh, the muzzle leaving faint depressions behind, circular indents.

“Don’t feel so clever now, huh?”

Fear chokes as well as it binds. When the man you remember as Graves (appropriately named, you think, the gravity of the situation sinking into you as well) drawls the words into your ear, any moisture in your mouth dries. 

“Well?” he prompts, shoving the gun harder into your back, almost sending you toppling into the shelf still in front of you obscuring you from sight. “Got anythin’ to say?”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out.

“You a mute, girl? I know you ain’t deaf since you heard I’d been sniffin’ around lookin’ for ya. ‘Least I’m guessin’ you did, since you managed to give me the slip for the whole time I was in town.” He sniffs. “Took me a while to find out you were shacked up with the sheriff. Hiding in plain sight. Couldn’t believe I missed ya when Sheriff Price was damn near the first person I met in this two-bit town.”

You finally muster up the nerve to speak. “Y-you’re making a mistake.” 

The furled upper lip is audible in his voice. “I’d try not to piss me off too much, sugar. Lyin’ just rubs me the wrong way is all.”

“No, you—you really don’t—” 

He shoves the gun harder into your back, making you wince. “Now, I know you’re a slippery little bitch, so I’ll level with you, alright?” Graves murmurs, pitching his voice low to ensure that only you hear. “You make so much as a peep—so much as a fuckin’ whisper—and I’ll shoot. Wink and I’ll shoot. I am dyin’ for you to give me a reason to go with the better half of the dead or alive question.”

There’s no point in lying. It might’ve worked had it been anyone but the man holding you hostage; not a man as stubborn and mulish as him. You nod when he asks if you understand.

“Now get to steppin’.”

He doesn’t tarry long, leading you out of the shop with a hand on your shoulder and . You stare at Miles with mounting horror, wordlessly begging him to look up from the ledger open in front of him on the counter. Your prayers go unanswered though; he doesn’t so much as glance towards the door before it’s swinging shut behind you.

“Remember,” Graves says in a low voice as the two of you step out onto the porch, “not a word. I will shoot anyone that tries to interfere.” 

That kills the impulse to shout for help. 

The thought of letting Graves take you away without voicing so much as a single plea fills you with horror, but you can’t see any other way out. He walks you through the streets like an old friend, the pistol still wedged into your back obscured by his coat. No one seems to notice the wild look in your eyes or the strained edge of your smile. 

Your behavior infuriates you. Demural and soft and wretched. You’ve only allowed one man to put you under their thumb; only one has ever earned the right. 

The thought of your husband is an ache in your chest that doesn’t abate. It thumps with the terrified flutter of your heart. You half wonder if he’ll suddenly appear from around a bend and wrench you into his arms, gun already drawn and aimed at the man attempting to take you away from him. 

“My husband—” you start, tripping over your words. Almost tripping over a rock as well since your spine is too stiff to let you look down at the ground while you walk. “—He can—he can pay you.”

He laughs, a nasty, mocking sound. “I’m sure he’d like to, sugar. Jus' ain’t sure he’s got the cash to pay your price.”

“At least let me ask—”

At that, he jams the gun violently into the small of your back, making you wince agaun. Petrified. Sweat sluices off your brow and drips down your face. “What part of shut the fuck up don’t you get?”

That silences you. Hard to muster up the nerve to retaliate with a gun lodged against the base of your spine. Still there’s so much that bears asking. Why did he come back? Why here—why now? 

The town takes on a dull, listless quality as he steers you away from the more crowded areas. It’s almost like looking through muslin; a veil between you and the world. 

Your eyes dart from person to person as they pass by in the opposite direction, but even those that bother to meet your gaze only smile politely, a couple passing gentlemen chirping, “Morning, Mrs. Price” before sweeping by in a hurry. 

None question the wild, frantic glint in your eye, the look of a horse about to bolt. If they paid you more than a moment’s notice, they might, but even the lady who frowns curiously at Graves, his hand still resting gently on your arm as if he were an old, dear friend, abandons her momentary curiosity when her companion says something of interest, pulling her back into their conversation. The flicker of hope in your belly dies a soundless death. 

There’s something almost phantasmagorical about the entire ordeal. Almost like it isn’t quite happening, like you can’t quite make yourself believe that this is, in fact, real. Like you’re watching from outside of yourself. Though you can see the wooden facades of the nearby buildings and smell the scent of hay and manure from the livery stable, it doesn’t resonate within you as real. 

He meanders through town with you stationed in front of him. A meat shield. Collateral damage. Simply by the way he maneuvers you through the crowd, he reduces you to a body, stripping you of any semblance of personhood. You’re less than meat to him, less than human even—no more than a meal ticket. 

When you muster up the courage to open your mouth the next time someone passes you by, Graves’ hand slides up to your shoulder and he digs his fingers into the bone. A warning. 

“If you think I was kiddin’ before, just try me,” he sneers into your ear, thumb pressing into your shoulder blade until you wince. 

Again, his voice dispels any thought of getting someone’s attention. 

He doesn’t lead you towards the train station like you expect. Instead, he heads to an awning beneath the saloon on the periphery of town where a couple horses are leashed to a post, waiting for their riders to come untie them. The roof of the awning is strung with a dense cluster of overlapping cobwebs. A spider scuttles across the web and into the dark inner recesses of the canopy. 

This far from the center of town, there’s hardly anyone. When you give your surroundings a quick glance, you can’t find a single other soul within earshot, only a single man pushing open the batwing doors on his way into the saloon. Then you’re alone again. 

A tawny gelding chuffs when Graves approaches.  When he suddenly unhands you, it doesn’t click until he’s several paces away from you, running his hand down his horse’s neck and rifling through the saddlebags, emptying the contents of his coat pockets into them. You have to glance down at your shoulder just to be sure. He sheathes his gun as well, tucking it into the holster fixed to his belt. 

“Bought the horse off a drunk three towns back,” Graves explains while loading up the horse.

You don’t respond, still unsettled. It’s the first time since he led you out of the general store that his gun hasn’t been aimed at you. It wouldn’t be practical for him to dress and load the horse one handed. The sun beats down on you, burning the top of your head. This could be your moment—a moment to scream or run away.

But you don’t. You don’t scream and you don’t run because you are, above all else, a coward. Through and through. You’ve been running from your problems for months now, leaving someone else to take care of the mess you left behind. 

Fear paralyzes you; it makes you think too much or not at all. Even now, with Graves giving you the perfect opportunity to turn and run, you can’t stop thinking about the potential consequences. What if he were to shoot you? What if he were to haul you back into town and expose your sins to everyone who gathered around? What if the people in town that have come to see you as one of their own were to gather around your crumpled form and stare at you with vitriol and disgust? 

“How did you—” you start, then pause to breathe, the nausea building again. “I thought you’d left town.”

“You’d’ve liked that, huh?” 

You don’t answer that. You know better than to antagonize a man with a gun. 

He sighs when you don’t rise to the bait, almost pettish. “Wedding announcement. I saw it in the paper—by then, I’d moved on to Lexington, so it took me awhile to backtrack, but I just knew somethin’ about that bit in the paper about the sheriff’s wife hailing from the east coast didn’t sound right. Too big of a coincidence. Had to at least be sure—retrace my footsteps. Lotta money on the line, you know.”

You stare straight ahead at that. You ought to have known. 

(“In the paper. The county sheriff got hitched—of course it’d be a story.”)

“To be honest, that kinda cracked me up. Murderess marrying the county sheriff.” He snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Sorta thing you’d read about in a dime novel.”

A new emotion wells up within you. It simmers in your belly, hot and cold at once. Righteous fury. All this time, you’ve been betraying yourself with your silence, allowing men to read your fear as guilt. Complicit in your own ruin. 

“I’m not a murderer.”

The look he gives you is withering. “Sugar, I hate to break it to you, but you did kill a man.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing ever does, it seems.  But the more you hold it in, the uglier the thought seems, until it erupts from your chest like Vesuvius, lava and tephra shooting out. 

“He deserved it,” you finally spit out, the words coming from deep in your chest. 

Graves doesn’t even pause in his ministrations, back to tightening the saddle straps. 

“He deserved it,” you repeat, spittle flying out of your mouth and landing in the dirt between the two of you. 

“That’s not somethin’ I usually concern myself with,” he finally says, looking distinctly unimpressed when he meets your stare. Bored blue eyes. 

You’re struck by the sense that your life means so little to him that the circumstances surrounding your bounty hardly merit more than a passing thought. If he could spare less, he would. 

It’s the vilest thing in the world to be regarded with such bored contempt. 

“He would’ve—he would’ve raped me otherwise. I didn’t have a choice.” 

At that, Graves pauses. When he looks towards you, his eyes are curiously blank. 

“Better that than what’ll happen now,” he says, the words so perfunctory that it takes a moment for them to sink in.  When they do, you have to swallow back bile.

His glibness shatters whatever hope you’d had left. 

In that moment, you finally acknowledge that appealing to his sense of decency won’t lead you anywhere because it simply doesn’t exist within him. You’ve known men like him before—those more concerned with lining their own pockets than taking care of the vulnerable people around them. The archetype is not uncommon. You should’ve expected it even, especially from a bounty hunter. 

There won’t be any bribing him or talking your way out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. Whatever facinorous end awaits you back east, he’s happy to shepherd you there so long as it earns him his thirty coins. 

How many times do you have to ask yourself if you’re brave enough to do something before you answer? 

When Graves turns to face you again and takes a step towards you, likely to urge you up onto the saddle, you recoil, stumbling away from him. His eyes sharpen at your movement, fulvous wolf eyes narrowing on you. 

“And here I thought you’d stopped pissin’ me off,” he says lightly, a hard edge underlying his words. His hand lifts to rest against the handle of the revolver tucked back in its sheath, thumb flexing over it. 

“What’s the point?” you retort, nostrils flaring. “You either kill me here or I die there.”

You sound braver than you feel, fear making you shake so hard that your knees almost knock together. 

Graves’ smile is all lip, no crinkling around the eyes. “Oh, I won’t kill you, sugar. I’m a better shot than that.”

Your heart pounds against your ribcage, stomach turning over at the thought of him putting a bullet through your shoulder or leg. 

“I’m surprised you won’t just come quietly. You think the sheriff wouldn’t hand you over to me himself if he found out what kinda woman he married?”

That’s been your fear from the very beginning. The one thing that’s kept you awake at night, the nightmare shaking you out of a dead sleep. You’d convinced yourself that him calling the authorities or even escorting you back east himself was an inevitability. That John Price, paragon of virtue, wouldn’t bend the rules for anyone, much less you. 

But the more you think about it, the less sense it seems to make. Every tender word and touch rises to the forefront of your memory. If John has shown you anything, it’s love. He’s proven his devotion a thousand times over, shown you time and again that were you to leave, he’d come running. 

Suddenly, the thought that your husband would let someone take you away from him seems preposterous. It doesn’t align at all with the man you know. He’d go to hell and back for you, would rip out a man’s tongue for speaking to you the way Graves speaks to you now. Hindsight makes that clear. 

You meet his eyes, intention set. “I’d rather just ask him.”

Blue eyes turn to flint, flat. Droll candor shed for ruthlessness. Silence before a storm. 

He’s on you before you even have a chance to whirl around and make a run for it, arm cutting into your windpipe when he wraps it around your neck. He drags you back into the shadows of the awning, out of sight from anyone on the street; your heels score lines in the dirt. You choke, wheezing on your next breath, but his arm tightens, trapping the scream in your throat. 

“Shoulda done this before,” Graves grunts, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the pair of cuffs he had tucked away. 

When he unhooks his arm from around your neck, you gasp for breath, sucking in deep lungfuls of air. Panic swirls and rises in your chest. 

“Get your hands off—” you hiss, beating his arm with your fist to no avail. He yanks your arms in front of you until your wrists are pressed close together. Your blood curdles at the feeling of cold iron against your skin and the gut-wrenching sound of handcuffs being fixed around your wrists, tightened to the point of pain. You can hardly flex your hands with how tight they’re bound. “Let me go, let ME GO—”

He pulls you in close again. “Don’t think I won’t tape your fuckin’ mouth shut too,” Graves snarls in your ear. Nausea swells in your belly. 

“Please— please don’t do this—” you beg, a sob breaking from your chest now. 

He sighs, long suffering. “Lord knows I tried to warn you.”

Despite the threat, Graves doesn’t tape your mouth shut. Instead, he fastens a rough piece of rope around your head, fitting it between your teeth like a bit. You don’t have it in you to be thankful for small mercies this time. The hemp cord scratches the corners of your mouth when you try to move your lips around it. 

“There,” he says, giving you a rough shake, satisfied. “That’s better. Can finally hear myself think.”

The tears leak out of the corners of your eyes in big, fat droplets, clouding your vision. When he wipes your cheeks with a calloused hand, the nail of his thumb catches on the delicate skin under your eye, leaving a thin cut. The pain makes you flinch, staring daggers at the man in front of you, but he doesn’t apologize for his rough handling. 

Graves heaves himself up onto the saddle first, swinging a leg over with practiced ease. You yelp when he hauls you up after, setting you on the saddle in front of him. Heat crawls up your neck when your skirt billows around your waist, horrified. 

“Save your tears, sugar,” he tells you, gathering the reins in one hand. “You’ll need ‘em for later.”

The horse whinnies when Graves pulls upward and guides him towards the road leading out of town, hooves clopping against the dirt. Your heart shoots up into your throat. 

Galloping out of town, you chance a glance back, head spinning as the world blurs around you. A man stands under the awning you just left, his head cocked as if stupefied. He’s too far away for you to get a proper look at his face though, no way to tell if he’s someone that might recognize you and alert John. You try to scream or wave your hands—anything to get his attention, to let the stranger know that something is wrong. 

You watch until the figure melds into the surrounding town. 

You keep waiting for someone to appear from behind you. A tall figure to darken the horizon, blot it like the moon passing over the sun. 

The last bastion of your hope collapses into rubble the farther away you ride, no man nor horse following you in pursuit. And then a hand grabs a fistful of your hair and wrenches your head back around, cutting off your view.

The plan is to leave the horse in the next town you reach and take a train back east. Graves would’ve done that back in the town you just left, he tells you, but he wanted to put as much distance between you and the sheriff. 

“You never know with men who’ve gotten a taste of married life,” he says when he finally deigns to stop miles from town, sitting on a rock and having a drink while he leaves you tied to the horse by your wrists. You shift from foot to foot, a cramp winding up your legs. “They get themselves a little pussy and lose all sense of dignity or morality. Can’t be trusted to do the right thing.” 

Steam practically billows out of your ears. You have the good sense to keep your mouth shut though, cognizant of the fact that you’re alone out in the middle of nowhere with a man who’d be happy to bring you back dead or alive. Though he hasn’t been quite so explicit, it’s apparent in the way he doesn’t offer to untie you or let you rest as well. The skin under the cuffs on your wrists are rubbed raw from your attempts to free yourself, and from the journey itself, with all the jostling and the persistent cramp in your right shoulder. 

The animal awareness dawns on you during that first rest. He’d taken the rope out when you were far enough outside of town that it didn’t matter if you screamed or not. That’s what stays your tongue now—the creeping notion that you are far from anyone that would be remotely sympathetic to your plight. 

“How much was the bounty?” you ask, more out of morbid curiosity than anything. You balance on one foot to shake the cramp out of the other. 

“Now, I hate to be rude, sugar, but what does it matter to you? It ain’t you collecting the reward.”

Your lips flatten into a taut line, already regretting prying. It’s not like knowing would change anything. 

The break ends sooner than you’d hoped, Graves urging you back onto the horse before taking a seat behind you. It troubles you because you’re not far enough away from town that you couldn’t still be rescued. There’d be more of a chance of John or someone else—one of his deputies, perhaps—coming across you out here. But you don’t have much of a choice. 

Out here, the land stretches on without end. Only the faint blue of a mountain ridge paralleling your route breaks the horizon. The land is flat, sparse apart from the dense shrubbery and trees twisted and bent by the wind. Cottonwood and boxelder. Chokecherry. Dogwood and hawthorn. Lush blooming saltbrush. 

The clear blue sky overhead is almost mocking, the rain from earlier long since abated. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky now. It’d be scenic if you could abstract it from the circumstances. A perfect day for gardening or a brisk walk after being kept indoors because of the rain. You’re still damp from riding through the rain earlier. 

A few bison congregate in a small dip in the terrain, grazing on the wild grass. You stare at them wide-eyed as you gallop along the upper ridge, startled by the sight of so many in one place. 

Despite the sublime beauty of the land, you remain on edge, unable to take anything in or truly enjoy it. Panic and revulsion leave you as gnarled and knotted as the krummholz trees out in the middle of the open plains. Riding with Graves feels nothing like the few times you and John shared a horse. It’s impersonal; transactional. Entirely against your will. 

The sun has only just begun to descend under the horizon when you and Graves approach a ramshackle house situated by itself in the middle of the open plains. Barely more than a barn, and long since abandoned by the looks of it. Age has done the place no favors; wooden slats sag and separate from the exterior of the house, the gaps in between the boards letting in all manner of insects and rot. 

Graves dismounts his horse about a stone’s throw from the hovel. His brow furrows with dissatisfaction as he surveys the abandoned property. 

“Shit,” he remarks, sucking his teeth. “A local back in town swore a family still lived here. Don’t look like anyone’s lived here since Abraham.”

Part of you wishes the former tenants still resided here, on the off possibility that one might take pity on you, but a much larger part of you is grateful for the dwelling’s vacancy. You’ve heard stories before, of families living out in the middle of nowhere. Rumors. Not all bad, of course; it’s common enough for families migrating west sometimes to stop along the way for a generation or two, building more permanent dwellings than the caravans they began their journey in. Many such families were also known for putting up travelers passing through in exchange for goods or help with chores. 

But you’ve also heard other stories. Like the Riley family out near Cherryvale and their homestead just off the Great Osage Trail. They lived out there for more than two decades before the number of lone travelers vanishing off the trail within walking distance of their property pointed the finger of suspicion at them. When the authorities finally got around to procuring a warrant for their property, they found the house deserted apart from the furniture that couldn’t be loaded into the wagon and an infant boy, dehydrated and petrified. 

You shake the story from your head. “…Are we spending the night here?” you ask tentatively. 

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, nostrils flared. “Don’t go gettin’ any ideas in that head of yours. Jus’ because a man’s gotta rest his eyes, don’t mean I gotta give you a peaceful night’s rest. No, I’m leavin’ those hands of yours tied.”

Your hopes deflate at that.��

He helps you dismount before hobbling his horse with a pair of leather straps around its front legs to keep it from darting off in the middle of the night. You wince sympathetically; you have more in common with a horse now than any man. 

The inside of the cabin is just as derelict as the exterior. At the very least, he feeds you. A couple scoops of pemmican straight from the tin. The fact that he insists on feeding you instead of letting you feed yourself puts you on edge. Your spine is stiff as a board through it all, your mouth barely opening up to receive the spoonful of pemmican, the metal clanking against your teeth. You wince, the sound itself tasting of rust. 

At all times, you are aware of the precarity of your situation. You can’t imagine there were any stipulations in the bounty to bring you back unscathed. Though he hasn’t tried anything untoward so far—not so much as made a licentious remark—you don’t know how long your luck will last. You flinch every time he so much as twitches in your direction, sure at any moment his mood will flip and he’ll drag you across the floor and haul himself over you. 

It’s enough to make your stomach hurt, turning over itself. He doesn’t try anything though, and for that you exhale shakily, the tension running off you in rivulets. 

One hour drags into the next. Night blackens the sky, seeping in through the crumbling walls of the cabin. 

“Well,” Graves says, wiping his hands together to dust off any lingering crumbs. “I’m gonna hit the hay.”

“Do…do I get to sleep as well?”

He cocks a brow. “Not much I can do to stop you.”

“It’s just that…” You lift your hands as you trail off, silently pointing out the handcuffs still secured around your wrists, the implicit assertion being that you won’t be able to sleep with the metal digging into the bones of your wrists. 

Graves scoffs. “You can’t think I’ll just uncuff you ‘cause we ain’t in town no more. I got a little more sense than that, sugar.”

“You could use rope instead?” you suggest. 

The seconds he spends considering it are long. You hold your breath as you watch him weigh the pros and cons. 

Finally, he shrugs. “Alright.”

The relief that washes over you is almost palpable. 

He pulls a blanket out of one of the saddlebags to function as a makeshift pillow, setting it up on the floor in the center of the room. True to his word, Graves uncuffs you and loops a double knotted rope around your wrists instead, fastening the rope tying your hands together around his own wrist. Your stomach sinks as he pulls the knot taut. 

He levels a heavy stare on you after giving the rope one last tug. “I don’t usually repeat myself, sugar, but I will this one time. Don’t go tryin’ anythin’ stupid. I’m gettin’ a good night’s rest and so help me if you wake me up—” his eyes flash, gray going steely “—you won’t like the consequences.”

You nod. Swallow back the phlegm clogging your throat. 

True night plunges the old house into darkness, cricket songs slipping in through the cracks in the walls. The temperature also plunges with the setting sun. It gets cold at night, even in the summer months; the draft makes you shiver, the rotting exterior letting in the elements. 

You keep to the wall with the least amount of rotting boards, as far as the rope tethering you to Graves will allow you to go. It would probably be in your best interest to try and get some sleep, but you’re far too restless to calm down. The atmosphere in the house is far too eerie to settle your nerves either; you can’t help but wonder about the family that must have left this place to rot and fade away into memory. 

It’s all you can do to blink back the tears that spring to your eyes when you think about the memory of you that John will have to carry into the future now that you’re gone. It isn’t fair. After everything you’ve had to endure in this lifetime, you thought maybe that this might have been your reward. That John was your reward. 

Your hands drop from your chin to your knees, hopelessness plaguing you again. The thin, sharp whistle of defeat. High and reedy as a death rattle. 

Then your eyes drop to your wrists.

The cord is fastened in a bowline knot around your wrists, difficult to undo without considerable effort, but the material is softer than the cuffs Graves had you in before, and it gives when you pull one hand down while pushing the other up. Your skin bunches around the cord, but it doesn’t cut into you the way the metal did. 

Graves is still fast asleep when you glance over at him. He doesn’t snore, but the rise and fall of his chest under the blanket is steady. Stable. 

The fatigue dissipates from your body the second you put it together. That there’s a sliver of a possibility of slipping your hands out of the rope tying you to Graves. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming. You have to sit with it a beat before acting, wary of letting your guard down too fast.

Time passes slowly as you fiddle with the knot, reaching your fingers as far as they’ll go and gritting your teeth through the ensuing cramp in your wrist. You nearly groan in frustration when your hand twitches and you accidentally retighten the knot. A near crushing blow. 

Please, you mouth more than whisper, frustrated tears clumped in your lashes. Teeth sinking into the flesh of your bottom lip, pinching off the wail rising up your throat. 

Your heart skips a beat when the rope loosens around one of your wrists, enough for you to wiggle a pinkie underneath and slowly shimmy it up the length of your hand. A cramp makes your pinkie spasm, almost causing you to lose your grip. Sweat pools in the cup of your palm. 

When your wrists are finally free, the rope clutched in trembling hands and the basal joint of your thumb scrapped raw from the fibrous rope, you can only sit there, heart beating wildly in your chest. You have to force yourself to remain calm, wary of waking Graves up after all that effort. His eyelids quiver only with his dreams though. 

You glance towards the door on the other side of the cabin. It seems either farther away now that you know it’s within reach. You know better than to just run straight for it though. Weeks of being on the run before finding John have taught you to pace yourself, to push down the fluttering evocation in your chest to make a mad dash for the closest way out. 

Instead, you take a deep breath out, closing your eyes until you’ve calmed down. Then you rise slowly to your feet. 

Your eyes, having long since adjusted to the darkness, scan the room for any loose floorboards. Aside from one obvious corner of the house which has begun to rot away and collapse, it’s hard for you to discern at a glance which boards will groan under the weight of your feet. You have no choice but to guess.

Each step has you on edge, heart in your throat. Your focus shifts quicksilver between the floor and Graves. Waiting for any sudden movement. 

Halfway to the door, you take another cautious step forward and the floorboard creaks under your foot. Your heart stops, eyes flitting instantly over to Graves’ sleeping form. He doesn’t so much as shift. It’s another beat before you’re able to move again, confidence shaken by the noise. You keep imagining him suddenly shooting up from the floor, pistol in hand, the hammer striking the primer, the hiss of gas escaping the barrel. 

The door gives a faint creak when you push it open, so you open it only enough for your body to slip through, wincing when you twitch and accidentally push it open another inch, dragging out the creak. Still, he doesn't wake. You slip past the door, shutting it quietly behind you.  

The moon glows cornsilk gold in the sky. A vast, uncharted land stretches out around you, untouched by human hands, or so changed over the years that any human presence has long since been buried beneath the loam. But when you stare out into the distance, you realize that you have no idea where you came from. Everything looks the same in each direction, no landmark familiar enough for you to orient yourself. You’re out in the middle of nowhere and nothing looks right. 

If you had less strength, you’d fall to your knees. The despair is so immense that you hardly have the strength to hold it all at once. 

The silence lulls you into a false sense of security. You linger for too long, stuck contemplating your options. Coyotes yip in distant packs, their barks carrying across the plains. You shiver at the sound. It reminds you again that you’re on your own now. No husband to come chasing after you if things get sticky. 

Your first few steps away from the cabin are tentative, gliding your legs through the grass and staring up at the cornsilk moon. A combination of indulgence and bewilderment. If you knew the right way home, you wouldn’t waver, but these days, you have no faith in your instincts. They’ve only ever led you off course. 

The gelding that Graves rode in on sits in the grass with its hind legs folded underneath it. With its legs still hobbled, you know removing the leather will take more time than you'd like, but you figure it'll be easier to make your way across the plains on horseback, with the added bonus of leaving Graves stranded. If God were just, he’d starve out here and leave his corpse for the coyotes to feast on. 

You approach the horse cautiously, conscious not to make any sudden movements. Its ears angle towards you as you draw near. Attentive to your presence. 

“Hey there, honey,” you whisper, reaching out a hand and trying to show that you aren’t a threat. Its nose twitches.

Another step forward. Easy does it. One leg in front of the other.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.” You try to mirror your memory of John in your voice, honeysuckle soft words. 

You aren’t John though. Not even close. You take another step towards it.

It brays when you get too close, skittish. The sound pierces through the night, louder than the coyotes in the distance. Louder even than the creaking door.  

The hair on the back of your neck raises, lips numb. Then the prickling awareness of movement in the house, like an itch on a phantom limb. 

Behind you, the door to the cabin bursts open with a bang, slamming off the wall and ricocheting back. You whip your head around to look only to find Graves’ towering form under the shadow of the doorway, his hair mused and clothes askew. And he looks enraged. 

“Hey!” Graves bellows from the doorway, breaking into a run towards you. “Get back here!”

There’s no time to sit with the regret, no time to bemoan the fact that you didn’t exercise enough caution, that for some reason without a gun leveled at your head, you allowed yourself to forget the very real danger this man posed to you. 

All you can do is run.

The grass whistles around you. You run so hard that your lungs burn, your arms pumping furiously beside you, dress swishing between your legs. You don’t have to look behind you to know that Graves is gaining on you. His body is built for pursuit. Still, you push yourself past your breaking point, not stopping even when you taste blood in your mouth. Mindless; directionless. No idea where you’re going—just away from him. You’d jump off a cliff if you came across one. 

He’s close enough for you to hear now, heavy breathing right behind you. But by then it’s too late. A heavy body rams into you, sending you careening towards the earth, the ground rushing up to meet you halfway. The dirt hardly cushions the blow. 

You hit the ground hard. Head knocked loose of thought, agony ripping across your face. The double blow of a body heavier than yours forcing you into the dirt, so solid that it crushes the breath from your lungs. 

Blood leaks from your lip, most likely split. When you breathe in to fill your lungs, you taste dirt and rust and earth. 

“Insufferable bitch,” Graves snarls, putrid breath wafting under your nose and making your eyes water. He grabs a handful of your hair and wrenches your head up before slamming it back down. Something crunches. Distantly, you wonder if your nose is broken. 

Your ears ring, the rest of his words drowned out by the blood rushing to your face. 

“Please—” you beg, blood dripping from your split lip. 

“Knew I shouldn’ta trusted you—conniving little cunt—c’mere now, get up—”

He rises to his feet over your body, big hand curling around your wrist. You hear your shoulder pop when he yanks your arm behind your back. A rush of cold. A sweat breaks on the nape of your neck. Shock sets in the moment after, adrenaline flooding your body. 

Then a sharp, focused surge of pain. It radiates from your shoulder outward, so intense that you can’t believe it at first. Your whole world reduces down to it. Feathering out down your back; irradiating waves of it. Thoughts scattering and then coming back together around the pain. If you scream, it comes out unbidden. 

“Ah, hell, I didn’t mean to do that,” he grumbles from behind you, likely staring at the unnatural jut of your shoulder. “Alright, sugar, one second—I’ll pop that back in.”

“Nononono—” you gasp, panic lancing through you, but he pays no attention to your words. 

The pain of popping your shoulder back in is excruciating. Relief follows shortly after, but the time between dislocating and relocating your shoulder is so short that it hardly comes as a balm to the pain.

“You…bastard…” you gasp. 

“Wouldn’ta had to do that if you hadn’t run,” he sighs, the sight of your pain subduing his rage. 

It doesn’t stop him from grabbing you roughly by the arm he just dislocated when he finally gets you on your feet though, steering you back towards the house. The pain that radiates up your arm is almost blinding. 

He drags you back to the cabin with a punishing grip. There’s no sympathy when you stumble. Moonlight illuminates the path back to the cabin and shows you the trenches in the wild grass made by your feet. Hardly more than a couple rods. 

The defeat that courses through you upon being dragged through the ramshackle front door is ten times that of earlier. When he lets go of your arm, you collapse in a heap on the floor, aching and sweating. A bag of bones and blood. You’d rattle if someone shook you. 

“I hate you,” you mumble from your spot on the floor, shaking through the pain. “Rot in hell.”

Graves doesn’t respond, but you can almost hear the way he grins.  

No rest for the wicked or the good this time. Graves wakes intermittently throughout the night to check up on you, wary now that you’ve tried to run. Your regret is palpable. You should’ve waited. Bided your time. There won't be another chance now, not after you played your hand so soon. 

The ache in your shoulder keeps you from finding sleep. Every time you get close to it, the pain radiates down your arm and it slips from your grasp, your hand closing around the empty space it leaves behind. Teeth grit, breathing through the pain. Loosening your jaw and panting because the pain overwhelms you when you so much as shift onto your side, the hard floor digging into your elbow. 

Right on the edge of sleep, just as you're about to latch on, a boot catches you in the ribs, jostling you back into the realm of pain. You wheeze, breaking into a coughing fit. 

“Get up,” a hoarse voice grunts above you, empty of sympathy. “We got places to be.”

He has the two of you back on the horse as soon as dawn breaks. Your escape attempt the night before must have spooked him, and you regret it now in the light of day because you know he won’t let you out of his sight again. The metal handcuffs digging into your wrists assures you of that. 

There’s no time for breakfast or time to wash up. Graves makes it a point to be back on the road as fast as possible, repacking his bedroll and stuffing it back in the saddlebag before dragging you up with him. 

The pain is a dull throb after sleeping most of the agony away. It comes back when you move too quickly though, which is hard to avoid on horseback when each gallop echoes through your sore bones and joints. 

The arching sun immixes with the heavens above, rising higher as the hours pass. You ache for a hat; something to keep the heat of the sun off your head. On the horizon, the mountain ridge sits like a spine bursting out from the earth. It’s all wastelands and portents. Evil omens. 

Your heart feels swollen and bruised, like something trampled under elk hooves. 

“Cheer up,” Graves says, tipping your chin up when the sun reaches its peak around midday, the gesture making you so uncomfortable that you almost shudder out of your skin. Your face still throbs with pain. “You should be glad I didn’t jus’ shoot you.”

Your lips pull back, baring your teeth to nothing. 

A shot rips through the air at that, his words commanding it into being. Your head instinctively ducks and even the horse under you staggers, spooked by the sound. Graves curses, tensing up behind you.

"What in the hell—"

You whip your head around to stare behind you, looking for the source of the gunfire. When you find it, your eyes widen.

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, don’t read them if you’re having a bad day, they’ll probably not help in the slightest.

[owletstarlet]

(tumblr: ‘persona 4 is simultaneously the gayest and most homophobic piece of media in existence’

Me, a few months ago, having only played p5: oh lmao noted

Me, now more than halfway through p4: wOW, okay,,,

[starry-bi-sky]

More clone^2 snippets

Snippet 12: hands

Lancer: dear god, Mr. Fenton, what happened to your hands!?

Danny, had a run in with Damian’s katana and both of his hands have stitches: um… cooking… accident. I can’t use them that much currently

Lancer, pale: right, yes, of course. You may have one of your friends right you notes until they are properly healed

————

Snippet 13: more hands (and dash is a dick)

Dash: I bet Fenturd’s just faking his hand injury to get out of doing class work. Getting out of classwork is my thing! I’ll show him.

Danny, minding his own business:

Dash, yanks on his fingers harshly: Freak! Did you think you could copy me and het away with it?

Danny, his stitches torn from the way Dash grabbed him: you’re the last person I’d want to copy Dash, let go.

Dash: we all know you’re faking the hand injury, there’s no way you’d— you’d—

(Danny’s hands are bleeding, and starting to smear on Dash’s hands.)

Danny, (fake) calmly: you were saying, Dash?

Dash: I - uh—

Danny: thanks for opening them up, jerk.

—————

Snippet 14: Danny is Bruce’s Clone and Bruce Wayne has been hottest man alive for many consecutive years

The A-Lister Girls are at a sleepover

Star: Never have I ever had a crush on Danny Fenton

All girls (including Star): puts a finger down

A-List Girl: Paulina put your finger down

Paulina, begrudgingly putting a finger down: he shouldn’t count - he’s a loser!

A-List Girl: he’s still the cutest boy in our grade. Put your damn finger down.

—————

Snippet 15: unstoppable force vs immovable object

(In the Clone Danny Au, since Danny is not a ghost Valerie doesn’t see Phantom as the guy who ruined her life, but a very exhausted vigilante trying his best. They’re allies with conflicting ideologies on how to handle ghosts.)

Red Huntress: are you kidding me, Phantom? You dragged a kid in with you to fight ghosts? I thought you were better than that

Wraith, offended: *opening his mouth*

Phantom, tiredly putting a hand over Damian’s mouth: *in ASL + one hand* you don’t think I tried to stop him?

Red Huntress: he’s a child, Phantom, how hard could it be?

Phantom: looks down at Wraith

Wraith: looks up at Phantom with the eyes of a hundred enraged bulls

Phantom, kneeling down to Wraith and pulling his mask up to show his mouth: *whispering inaudibly*

Wraith: *takes off in the opposite direction*

Phantom, standing up to Red: *ASL* well? go get him

————

Snippet 16: identity

(Danny and Damian are sitting on a rooftop, in the middle of a break from patrol. Damian sits between Danny’s legs and Danny is slumped over Damian’s back.)

Damian, playing with Danny’s fingers:

Danny: who are you?

Damian: Damian.

Danny: who are you not?

Damian: Damian Wayne.

Danny: do you have to be?

Damian: no.

Danny: who do you have to be?

Damian: I just have to be me.

Danny: who are you?

Damian: I’m Damian.

Danny: good.

Damian:

Danny:

Damian: who are you?

Danny, smiling: Danny

—————

Snippet 17: long hair

(In the Clone Danny Au, Danny’s hair goes to his shoulders. I was in a GNC mood at the time the au was made and it passed on to Danny.)

Tucker: are you going to cut your hair, Danny? It’s getting long.

Danny, laying against the bed frame with Sam doing his hair: probably to get the dead ends cut off. I like it long.

Sam: I like it long too.

Tucker: you like it long because he lets you do whatever you want to it

Sam: it’s also a stand against the oppressive stereotype that men can’t have long hair and must always have it short in order to appear masculine! Danny’s showing individuality and sticking it to the patriarchy at the same time!

Danny: and because I let you do whatever you want to it.

Sam, making a punk hairdo for danny: yea that too

——————

Snippet 18: Danny is Bruce Wayne’s clone and Bruce——

Danny, getting stuff from his locker: my parents have a new ‘Fenton anti-ghost sticky bomb’ they’re working on and—

Student with a photography camera: Hey, Fenton!

Danny, looking over: what?

Student: *snaps a photo* thanks!

Student walks away

Danny:

Tucker:

Sam:

Danny: so… um…. Is that- is that another Wes? Should I be worried?

Sam: you should be angry! He just took your picture without your consent! That’s a violation of your bodily autonomy.

Danny: we can keep an eye on it, Sam, and if it becomes an issue then I’ll report it to a teacher.

Danny: and as I was saying, I can’t wait to have to make sure that that doesn’t hurt anyone.

Danny: i love having to stay up late sabotaging my parents’ inventions. Yay…

—————

Snippet 19: Danny is Bruce’s clone and—

Wes: ranting about how Phantom = Danny and how there’s proof and he has it and—

Random Student from his photography club: you wanna kiss him so bad it makes you look stupid.

Wes: I do nOT

Student: Its okay Wes, so does literally everyone else.

—————

Snippet 20: Lookalike

Danny: the only good thing about being Bruce Wayne’s clone is that my Brucie Wayne Impression is spot on

Damian: what??

Danny: my Brucie Wayne impression. It shouldn’t be as fun as it is doing it

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Beta-read by @dragonrider9905

Chapter 1:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Jealousy. Brief mention of blood. Canon violence.

--------------------------------------------------

You couldn't even look at her.

That thought alone made you sick to your stomach. The fact that you couldn't bear to look at a woman simply because she was interested in the same man that you were, made you want to cry.

Am I really that shallow? You thought bitterly as you slammed the hydrospanner into the damaged component of the landing gear you’d been trying to dislodge.

I can’t believe I was so stupid! You jammed the point of the tool violently into a crack, trying to pry it out. Of course he’d go for her. She was prettier than you - funnier too.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Hunter is his own man. He likes someone else. Not a big deal.

Except for some reason, judging by the heavy ache in your chest, it was a big deal, no matter how much you tried to fool yourself into thinking that everything was fine.

The landing gear piece was still stuck fast. You set down the hydrospanner and picked up the plasma cutter.

This better kriffing work or I’ll have Tech up my ass for a month about it. Not to mention having to tell Hunter that I broke the ship. Again.

You ran your fingers over the healing scar on your cheek and looked at the carbon scoring around the piece that stuck fast, fused in place by laser fire.

A smile made its way across your face as you remembered how it all happened. You were providing cover fire so they'd have time to escape - more exposed than you'd like to be, but it wasn't anything you couldn't handle - until a stray shot hit the ship at just the right angle.

Hunter had tackled you to the ground, shielding you from the blast with his own body.

Despite the chaos around you, being in his arms felt safe.

“Don’t ever do that again!” It was meant to be an order but it felt different than any of the others he’d given over the past year. The way he’d taken your face into his hands, carefully examining the small, insignificant wound on your cheek. His face was unreadable but as you’d looked closer, his eyes were a whirlwind of relief that you hadn’t been hurt worse. There was something else there too - something that fed the hope hidden away in your core that your feelings toward him were reciprocated. He’d kept his hand on your arm as you stood up. They were strong, steady hands that kept you warm and stayed on your arm seconds longer than the moment demanded.

But then you’d found him in a closet with Phee’s sister only hours later at Cid’s parlour.

I’m so stupid. How could I have read him so wrong? What made me think I’d ever have a chance with a man like Hunter? You shook your head, angry at yourself for letting your guard down. For the first time since the beginning of the Clone Wars, you’d felt alive in a way that didn’t involve throwing yourself into violently dangerous situations. You felt at home with this band of misfit clones. You had finally allowed yourself to feel and acknowledge the emotions that came with it. Now you remembered why you hadn’t done that before. It was stupid and you would make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.

Finishing with the plasma cutter, you brought a wrench down hard with a loud clang. The piece barely moved an inch and you threw the tool down with a frustrated groan.

“You okay over there?” Phee poked her head around the corner, eyebrow raised.

“I’m good!” You grinned, hoping the faux smile would keep her from asking anymore questions. “Just trying to get this stubborn kriffing piece out so Tech can replace it when he gets back.”

Phee chuckled as you glared at the offending part. She walked over to the side of the ship, looking up and down at the stripped landing gear.

“Damn… what’d you guys get into this time?”

It was your turn to chuckle, grateful for the distraction from your spiraling negativity.

“That is a very complicated story,” Tech answered for you as he rounded the corner, “However, I do not currently have the time to tell it. We have another mission from Cid and should be leaving as soon as we’ve made our repairs.”

Good, you thought. Another mission might be just what you needed to get out of your head and back into the groove of things. Back to normal.

Tech stopped next to Phee in front of the landing gear, surveying the mess of tools and ship components. He frowned. “Although, it seems as though that may take a bit longer than I originally thought.”

He grabbed the hydrospanner from the ground by your feet and began prying at the piece you’d been working on. “I will fix this. You pick up the tools and get that carbon scoring off of those panels.”

Phee grinned as she began helping you scrape. “I love it when you get all bossy like that, Brown-Eyes.”

Tech’s cheeks darkened, the only indicator that he’d heard her at all.

You smirked. Tech and Phee were so different from each other. Her carefree sense of adventure and aptitude for playing fast and loose with the rules seemed opposite to Tech’s academic personality and rigid structure. But despite their differences, they seemed to bond over an innate sense of curiosity and wonder. They belonged together.

Like Hunter and I should be, you thought bitterly.

The silence that fell on the group as you worked was deafening. Every so often you caught Phee pausing to watch as Tech worked his magic with the repairs.

Tech remained oblivious, but found himself sending subtle glances towards her as she worked. Every glance felt like daggers through your chest. A reminder of what could have been yours.

“How’s it looking, Tech?” Hunter walked around the corner, setting a crate of explosives down for Wrecker to load onto the ship.

The knife you’d been using to scrape the panel suddenly felt heavy and clumsy in your hand. It slipped through your fingers as you frantically tried to catch it but failed as it hit the ground with a dull thud.

You gasped as a thin line of blood blossomed across your pointer finger and the palm of your hand.

“Kriff!” you grumbled under your breath. Hunter stepped forward quickly only to be intercepted by Phee who grabbed your injured hand, inspecting it.

“Eh, you’re fine,” she pulled a bacta patch from her pocket, quickly wrapping the injury as though she’d done it more than her fair share of times. “Be more careful with that next time,” she chided. You looked up expecting to see Hunter but he was gone.

--------------------------------------------------

@zoeykallus @ttzamara @nahoney22 @merkitty49 @viva-la-whump @agenteliix @dumpsters-little-matchbook @nekotaetae @ladykatakuri @loverofclones @heyitsaloy @padawancat97 @jambolska-grozdova @flyingkangaroo @melymigo @rain-on-kamino @jiabae @my-own-oracle @dragonrider9905 @queenofspades010 @ordinarylokix @jupitersaturnapollo @queencousland101 @vampire-rogue @southernbaguette @staycalmandhugaclone @dalu-grantkylo @dangraccoon @aconstructofamind @sev-on-kamino @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @atomickidsoul @caitnotfound @temmiegailg @skellymom @freesia-writes @trixie2023

If you want to be on my taglist, feel free to send me a message! Also, asks are open! Reblogging is very much encouraged and it makes me do a happy dance every time any of my writing gets reblogged 😂❤️

[rendezvouz-fling]

Astro Observations #20

• Is it just me or do most saturnian moons (Aqua/Cap) tend to grow up with single mothers who only care about making money and having multiple boyfriends? Lmao.

• I feel bad for Gemini risings with Aries mercuries because they’re so genuine and they might be very chatty but it’s their biggest love language.🤎 I think this might also apply to just about every other Gemini rising too!

• I feel bad for Aries moons with Libra mercuries/risings because yes they can be a little hot headed but they won’t be flat out bold and they might beat around the bush a lot! On the other hand though when they’re really arguing with somebody they might switch to intellect and surprisingly demolish that person.✋🏽

• People with mercury at a Fire degree (1, 5, 9, 13, 17, 21, 23, 29) love to exaggerate things! Calling myself out too, chile!😩😂

• Virgo suns with Leo mars can be very sweet and caring but also very scorning, abrasive and wants themselves/their partner & kids to look/dress their best almost all the time! Pretty much the always picture-ready type moms.

• You better believe that even if a Sagittarius moon won’t say it they might feel hurt and start detaching until they’re completely gone out of your life and you’re left wondering what went wrong.

• Tbh idk why but Libra mercuries also be out here saying mean, out-of-pocket stuff just not normally in people’s faces so maybe that’s why their friends might not take them seriously.

• Whereas Aries mercuries probably have a reputation of arrogance and downright disrespectfulness but they can also be very nice especially if you’re close with them. You’ll notice they just like to cuss for fun lol.

• Scorpio mercuries need to stop being on interrogation mode!😭

• Gemini mercuries be telling some of the funniest stories and their facial expressions/hand gestures make it even more funnier than it has to be.😭🤣

• Dear Cancer mercuries, you guys are so thoughtful and caring Ilysm!

• Capricorn mercuries, you’re not boring and I love how also detail oriented you are!

• Can I just say Cap mercuries so be out here clowning too! 😂 I have a close friend who’s a Cap sun & mercury and she says funny things often, she just has a very articulate way of speaking but besides that she’s hilarious!🤣

• I recently noticed people with Air/Earth placements tend to have speech impediments and other stuff. E.g. my little sister is a Virgo sun/moon & Libra stellium and she can’t pronounce the letter ‘R’. I have a Gemini rising at 23 degree, Capricorn mars & other air placements and I used to have a speech impediment and developed selective muting. 💀

• Having Air/Fire placements can be such a challenge! 😭 My Aries mercury just be saying anything along with the super chatty Gemini rising but then later my Aquarius moon has a pep talk moment and makes me say “Why the fuck did I say that? Now they’re going to think I’m—” 😂😂😂

• People with harsh aspects between the sun and pluto might be known as open books but they might become self-conscious about it and have the urge to remain a mystery yet they can’t help but overshare!😭

• They might also think about it often! Like it might haunt them.💀

• Gemini venuses are soo fun!! I’d literally take these people with me if I was to go on a road trip because they’d keep me entertained and we could just goof around & talk about anything lol.

• You might also find yourself attracting/being attracted to people who’s venus sign is your rising sign!

• Pisces venus, for the sake of your own life please stop staying in toxic relationships because you fear being abandoned and think it isn’t worth it because you’ve been with this person so long—LEAVE. ✋🏽

• Cancer venus, you know I love you but sometimes you gotta stop trying to control people. 😭

• Scorpio venus, with you I feel like we’re always on the same page and see eye to eye in most things/interests.

• Capricorn venus you are literally one of the most giving venus signs! I literally love you!!<3

• Sagittarius mars men having a thing for smacking their girlfriend’s butt.🤣

• Leo mars want only the best of the best especially if there’s Taurus in the mix!

• While Libra risings might develop people pleasing tendencies, Gemini risings tend to develop social anxiety.

• I’ve seen so many Gemini suns always point out that they either have or think they have a mental illness. Especially ADHD.😨😰

• Yes Earth suns are normally very chill and grounded. But add some Air and especially Fire in the mix and they’ll be the most erratic, short tempered people you’ve seen!🙃

• Fire mercuries/mercuries at Fire degrees, how does it feel to get shouted at your whole life then gas-lighted and blamed when you turn out to be a sharp-tongue individual?

• Gemini moons and their many 1-3 Am shows in their rooms.😭 Same for Aqua and Libra moons but Gemini moons do it more often lol.

• If somebody is very generous, bold, funny, and gets pissed off/defensive very quickly then they’re an Aries dom.❤️‍🔥

• Taurus moon, why are you so stubborn?

• The best thing to hear is “Okay fine.” From an Aquarius/Taurus moon when you’ve finally got them to change their opinion that they stubbornly wouldn’t let go of lol.

• 9H moons tend to be very attached to their ideas/opinions/beliefs. I can testify😂

• I’ve noticed some 2H moons tend to stress eat?

• 7H moons looove music and fashion!💗

• 9H Aquarius moons are normally cultured people.

• Fire moons are the loyalest friends hands down. I said what I said.✋🏽❤️

• Scorpios suns with Sagittarius moons/mercuries somehow be coming up with the funniest life-stories??😭🤣

• I’ve noticed Sagittarius mercuries tend to be awesome yet underrated songwriters! E.g. Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe who wrote most of their songs😩🖤

• Say what you will but some Leo risings literally exude not only a very charming but bright aura! David Lee Roth is literally your typical Leo Rising!🦁🌞

[etherealsworldvision]

What is a step you can take toward your own well-being?

Before I begin the reading I’d like to take a moment to talk about: Marine Conservation Institute. They’re a non-profit organization working to defend our ocean by advocating for stronger protection and to save the ocean for all of us and future generations. If you’re interested do check them out and if you’d like to further support this organization click donate.

New song discovery for the reading: Elijah Waters - Perfectly Silent

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

🚨 P.S.A 🚨 : I do not give personal readings!

Added Description: all my readings are timeless and meant to reach those who resonate to the messages.

[ Collective Messages: 234 (or 2:34? I’m not religious but for some reason I got this?); Leaving the past behind; Elevating; Patience; Timing; Learning to walk again; Stumbling; Material abundance; Getting news about material/job offers; Your confirmation is Yes; Positive changes; Water wheel finally turning; Think before speaking; Rainbows and Sunshine. Mars Placements.]

Pile 1

“My head is like a washing machine. Tried to wash away these thoughts, still can’t get clean.”

Cards: 9 of Wands Reversed; Emperor; 10 of Cups Reversed; Empress Reversed; 2 of Hearts; Queen of Clubs; Six of Clubs

[ Messages: Stubborn; Self-Sabotage; Fear of Change; Overthinking; Stagnation; “Just Do It”; Red Sox; Baseball; Taking initiative; Ares; Aries placement; Coffee; Accepting your heart; Janine Teagues; “Things will go wrong whether you’re doing what you want or not. For me, regrets are always harder to live with than consequences. I don’t regret […] living my life to the fullest […] it’ll be alright, trust me.”– Mr. Johnson ( Abbott elementary S3EP14 timestamp 16:10 - 17:08). ]

The first thing standing out to me is your emotional and mental health. You may be experiencing a time where you’re unable to take care of yourself. This isn’t to shame you, I just want to acknowledge that you’re already doing enough. If no one said this to you today; I am so proud of you. Another thing I do want to say is: please reach out to your support system or check in with yourself. Honestly you don’t need to prove anything to be deserving of love and happiness. It’s okay to want and need something that emotionally fulfills you.

I feel like this pile is very independent and an over-thinker which can cause burnout, as well as aiding in self-sabotaging tendencies. For some reason I feel like you may “psych yourself out of it,” meaning you’re so excited about something only to get worried before having a chance. I know it’s a hard pill to swallow but it needs to be said. Self-sabotaging and overthinking is what’s holding you back. You may be experiencing Imposter Syndrome and Control issues as a result.

With the emperor, empress, and queen of clubs here — you are very much qualified to go after what you want. It does look like you're someone who knows what to do, is aware of the things you need, and what you want. I don’t know if it is a job or related to your social life, however, there’s this feeling of being overqualified for something or feeling deserving of more/better.

There is also a confirmation here that things will get better and you will get what you want. However, it is you who decides to go after it. I do recommend looking up books about self-sabotaging or YouTube videos about this topic. If you are in therapy, maybe this is a subject you’d like to bring up?

A good question to ask yourself is: What have I always accepted as true that turned out to be false?

So that’s all I’m getting. I know this reading is short and straightforward. I would like to say thank you for taking your time reading this and I hope this reading resonates with you.

Pile 2

[ Cards: King of Swords; The Devil Reversed; Page of Wands; Queen of Cups; King of Spades; 3 of Hearts; Jack of Diamonds; 5 of Hearts ]

Messages: Retreating; Refuting; Verbally Vindictive; 3H Mars; Leo or Cancer Mars; Fire and Water Placements; Trauma Dumping; Changes in Communication; Online Regina George Trope; Air Signs (Specifically Suns); Birthdays; Online Personality; Healing; Dictator - Rei Ami; YouTube commentary or essays about online ( trends )

I feel a bit overwhelmed when reading this pile. As if I have to be someone I’m not? I feel that social media is really coming in, especially TikTok/Twitter discourses. There’s this sense of having to upkeep and over consume to be considered a: ✨main character✨ otherwise “you’re just not cool and an utterly boring, basic loser, yuck 🤢 🤮, You’re not even a side character yikes.” /J (I am using sarcasm and joking).

For some of you I get the feeling that this could be stemming from social media addiction, others it may be, that you are embodying the online personality. Over all this just feels like a huge weight on your shoulders or a ball and chain on your leg. In an odd way; maybe your phone or whatever you use is home to you? It’s where you can express yourself via feelings, personality, opinions, etc. This is in no way to shame you at all. I also use social media and so does the next person, right?

There’s this need to give yourself a balance again. To double check with yourself on how you’re feeling after using social media. I feel most of you are ready to gain control of your media consumption or at least contemplate the effects it has on you. Taking a step back from social media — maybe trying out a hobby or just reconnecting to something that makes you feel like you may help.

Also if you want YouTube recommendations on over consuming let me know, I can send you the links. The number one takeaway is that it’s okay to be yourself. You being you is main character energy. No amount of products, social media influenced personality, or aesthetics can take that away from you. You are enough, I promise you that. It’s okay to want to change but if you’re feeling influenced by something that isn’t true to you then you might want to ponder on that and ask if that is really what you resonate with.

A good question to ask yourself is: What is one small step I can take today towards a goal that feels out of reach?

That’s all I’m getting for you pile 2! If you stuck around this far I’d like to say thank you so much. I greatly appreciate it and hope you resonate with this reading.

Pile 3

[ Cards: 4 of Cups, Ace of Pentacles Reversed; Five of Pentacles Reversed; Queen of Cups; 9 of Diamonds; 6 of Diamonds; Queen of Diamonds; Ace of Hearts ]

Messages; Open mind and heart; Chihiro by Billie Eilish; Money Growth; Finances; Earth and Water placements; Fear of Missing Out; Take out; Diners; Over consumption; Capitalism; Low Income; 111; Unemployment

( Tw: financial experience and control issues. Disclaimer: for some reason I feel called to talk about my financial experience and how I dealt with this. Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking for in my experience? )

So I had been unemployed for two years then found a job for 3 months then unemployed again for a year. When I tell you, I searched for a job everywhere, I mean everywhere! I applied everywhere and every time. I even tried to save what I could and budget with what I had (I live with my family and occasionally would get money. I understand/am aware of the privilege and support I have. I’m also very grateful and appreciate them)

I yelled at the universe, cried, and had sleepless nights. However, what helped me (besides living with my family) through this tough time is to focus on things I can control while applying for jobs. That’s what honestly made me stay afloat. So maybe this is what can help you during this trying time?

Finding a (free) third place meaning: the park, public library, or just a walk may help ease a bit of tension. Sometimes journaling or confiding with someone will help as well. Doing something that helps you remain in the present and eases the anxiousness could help. I know this may not be what you were looking for and I wish I can give you financial advice but that is not my forte.

There is only so much control we have when it comes to finances and it is certainly not a lesson from the universe or it’s not happening to you or happening for you. I don't care what they say, it is not a lesson! It is just an unfortunate situation to be in, it just is. Like yes you can learn from it but it is not something (pre)destined or “contract” written. It just happens and we live in late stage capitalism. That’s me being real with you.

So yeah, I’m sorry for the little tangent. What I am getting is to fill your emotional cup for the meantime. Yes, do what you need to do with your finances; finding a job or to save/budget money whatever you can do to the best of your abilities.

You just have to remember to do things that are within your control and to not neglect your emotional/mental health. If singing, drawing, talking, or simple things like cloud watching helps you stay present and makes you feel in control then by all means do that.

I’m not saying to use escapism but I am saying to do your best to emotionally check in with yourself from time to time. Also if you have a support system do talk with them or be around them. A good question to ask yourself is: “Who do I feel most myself around? Why?”

This is all that I’m getting for the reading. I hope this reading resonates. Again, I am so sorry if I made things worse or didn’t help! Please remember to check in with yourself — take care :)

[canthelpit0]

Skinny

Pairing: bf!Chris sturniolo x Reader

Wordcount: 700

Summary: you talk to your boyfriend about the internet (literally just the song skinny, by Billie Eilish)

Warnings: really short, angst(?), body image, the internet, hurt/comfort (?), direct quotes, idfk

(Litterally wrote this during a 1h car trip, so it’s rlly short. I was listening to the song while writing this. Hope you guys like it tho <3)

I recently met the triplets in LA. We quickly became friends, but I always felt drawn to Chris the most.

Sure they’re all considerably hot, but there was just something about Chris that made me feel something..

Turns out I wasn’t the only one that felt it, and soon enough Chris confessed to me. Wich meant a lot, considering he has commitment issues, but he was willing to commit… for me?

We dated for a while until I realized,

I fell in love for the first time.

I may only be 20, but those 20 years felt so eternally long. Chris was everything I’d been waiting for all my life, being the hopeless romantic.

I started to go to the gym more often, and eat healthier. Not for any other reason then, I was happy.

I also started to notice that Chris’ Pepsi habits got better, and he started to eat healthier as well.

We were talking one day, both of us sitting on opposite sides of Chris’ bed.

“People say I look happy, just because I got skinny.” I sigh.

The only reason why I look happier is because I have a working healthy relationship, because I’m in love. Not because my body changed.

Chris tilts his head to the side his eyes slightly furrowed as if asking me if I’m serious.

But the ‘old’ me was still me. Maybe even the real me, my actual personality when I’m on my own, And I think she is pretty.

I never really had body image issues. I never struggled with eating.

I got famous pretty young, like 17 or so. And back then I was a kid, of corse I liked to eat. I wasn’t even that big really. I was just a kid, I didn’t care about it too much.

I’m not magically happier than I was before. I still cry.

“People say I’m acting my age now.” I sigh. “Am I already on the way out, am I ‘falling off’?”

Chris tilts his head not saying anything just trying to process my words. As if my words are outlandish to him.

“I feel like a bird in a cage, you know. With all these expectations and rumors.” I sigh softly. All these things have been bugging me for a while.

“I’m sorry.” He looks at me with not pitty but understanding. “You were my secret,” when we started dating we hadn’t told the internet. “- and I didn’t get to keep it”

But like couples do we would go out on dates. With both of us being touchy people, PDA was big. But a random fan took a picture of us kissing and it spread like wildfire.

I sigh heavily at the memories. How betrayed I had felt by those so called fans looking into my business.

“The internet is hungry for the meanest kind of funny, and somebody’s gotta feed it.” I purse my lips closing my eyes briefly.

“I suppose that’s true” Chris breaths out his eyes locked on mine.

“People really think suddenly all my problems are gone and I’m all happy, not because I’m in a healthy and stable relationship but because i got skinny.” I huff working myself up, and getting angrier and angrier at something that seems like nothing.

“Do you still cry?” I ask rhetorically, my previous breathy and small voice now loud and clear. “I mean I do.” I reply to my own question.

I look at my boyfriend and the way he looks back at me with such understanding.

We look at each other in silence. “I love you. And I’ve loved you for so long. And that’s not going to change.”

Chris says firmly a small gentle smile forming on his lips. Chris opens his arms waiting for me to come to him.

I’m not upset per se, it’s just annoying seeing people comment on my body and happiness and whatnot. It’s none of their business.

I’m a content creator. I didn’t ask for them to criticize me.

I sit up shuffling over to Chris. I let myself fall into his embrace.

But in Chris’, the love of my life’s arms, like this, it doesn’t matter anyway.

Masterlist

A/N: hope you guys like this style of writing. If h goys want to be on the taglist comment. Asks & requests are open 💕

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog

[aboxofcereales]

Currently trying to collect all the information about our companies’ life before the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Mainly, about their family and age. Any suggestions/editing will be very much welcome.

Huge thanks to everyone who aiding the cause in comments and reblogs.

Last update - 10 April 2024.

Wyll Ravengard: is about 24, has left the city when he was 17, in origin introduction states that he’s been exiled for 7 years. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's in fact 24 & Neutral Good. Apparently his dad, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, raised him by himself, Wyll’s mother, Francesca, passed away in childbirth, when Wyll was born, as stated by Ulder’s longsword description, Wyll mentions her during a romance scene in Act 3, also calls himself “a single son to a single father”. According to Murder in Baldur's Gate: Ravenguard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters, moreover the said sword description calls Wyll's mother Ulder's love, not wife, which makes me think that Wyll was born out of wedlock. Supposed to have 3 uncles. I’ve seen a note about Wyll diving to see a mermaid as kid, written by his dad, in the high security vault. Florrick seen him grow up, had a crush on Stelmane as a kid, also during his childhood enjoined fishing with his dad, but sucked at it. Also, Ravengard's Scourger states that "Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.", that strange gravity might be Francesca's death in childbirth(?). Generally, I strongly advise to take him around the city in act 3, as he tells plenty stories of his boyhood.

Gale Dekarios: still not sure if there any information about how old he might be, but I estimated around mid-to-late 30s, though it doesn’t really sit well with him meeting Mystra as a kid (btw there’s an absolutely wonderful post on this topic by @lairofsentinel, check it out), still I’d like Gale to be on the older side, alternatively, he may be around 28-30 due Mystra's return year. Personal headcanon - he's 37. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 35 & True Neutral. He casted his first spell as a babe - a score of rabbits in the panty. Apparently lives separately from his parents in his tower, at least as kid had them both (mentioned when he first tells about his friend-tressym, Tara), thou in his origin (at least as much as heard and played myself but @vitanithepure confirmed it) only his mother gets mentions, the state of the other parent is unknown. Has a very tender relationship with her, but didn’t inform her about the orbe for her own safety, her name may be Morena (godsblessdataminers), Mrs Dekarios really wants him to find someone to settle down with. Also, Tara hates his beard.

Shadowheart (Jenevelle Hallowleaf): is about 50, comments that Viconia documented about 40 years worth of her life at the hands of Shar, in the same note she writes that Shadowheart was able to keep her heart true to her child self, and was hard learning Shar lessons. As I understood when she was kidnapped, she was about 10-13, kidnapping was directly by the Shar command.According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she' 48 & Lawful Neutral. Personal headcanon - she's 51. After her abduction made friends with tiefling named Nocturne (they might have be more than friends?), had a pet mouse for sometime called Nibbles. There’s a grafiti somewhere behind Jaheira house which she has drawn. Shares a questionable taste of romance literature with Wyll and his father. Her parents’ fate, Emmeline and Arnell Hallowleaf: is up to you decisions. Her mother mentions that they wanted Jen to have siblings.

Karlach Cliffgate: early 30s I think, the way she speaks about Gortash makes me thinks she was practically a teenager when she started working for him and spend 10 year serving Zariel. Personal headcanon - she's 29. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's 30 & Chaotic Good. Her parents, Pluck and Caerlack, she moved them from Outer City to a nicer place. Her mom died due to fewer when she was a teen, dad a couple years later due to road accident. Both died before she met Gortash. Her mom seems to be behind her love for Minsc, Jaheira etc. You can meet her friend near Baldur’s statue.

Lae’zel of K’liir: seems to be barely 20. Githianky reach adulthood in their late teen, and as Lae’zel was yet to present a mindlflaer’s head, I think she’s the youngest in the party. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's exactly 22 & Lawful Evil. Personal headcanon - she's in fact 20. She hates owls due to their necks, Karlach agrees.

Astarion Ancunin: according to translation of his grave he only lived for 40 years before becoming spawn, spend 200 year as such. Safe guess - there's definitely smt wrong with his grave stone or/and translation as it messes the current year - from 220 to 250. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, he's 263, which doesnt seem right, & Neutral Evil. According the artbook he was a corrupted magistrate, which seem to be true atleast to pre-release version.

Halsin is 350, his family is from the High Forest, thou they are all gone. Spend 3 years captured by drow, loves honey and curving ducks. Jahiera is about 150-160, as she was a child in 1347. Has atleat five foster children: half-elf Rion, half-orc druid Jord, three humans - Jhessem, Fig, and Tate. Minsc was a statue from 1409 to 1480s.

[poisoned-pearls]

I fully feel like Azul would spoil Jamil because he knows about the envy and want you get from being around wealth constantly. He doesn’t get it as much but he understands it, and while sure he wants Jamil to be able to understand he is worth a lot even without material goods he also thinks that he deserves them.

and I think that Jamil finally getting what he ‘deserves’ (or at least what he feels like he deserves) is precisely what would help him have a better relationship with Kalim. Kalim feels hurt by the betrayal in chapter four (because he felt like he could only just Jamil) but Jamil finally being able to feel equal to him would kill the resentment (though he would have to be free from his duty as a servant)

Just- Jamil ends up living a spoiled, lazy life because Azul loves him. I’d say househusband but Azul wouldn’t even want him cleaning because he had to do that growing up for Kalim. Azul enjoys work and business and Jamil is constantly exhausted as a 17 year old, so of course they fall into that dynamic

But just- Azul understands that he’s had to work his entire life. He’s been told he is worth less than Kalim, treated like dirt. Azul enjoys running a restaurant, enjoys wanting to run hotels. So he’ll work as hard as he has to to make sure that Jamil is no longer burnt out, worked to the bone, and so Jamil can be treated high class, like a rich person.

Because he loves him.

[originalaccountname]

In your Murase Lives ADA!Chuuya AU, Dazai still joins the ADA eventually right? After he loses both Ango and Oda (like how Chuuya left when he only had Dazai left, but Dazai seemed to be better with his new friends).

How do they react to that? Does Chuuya help Dazai join? Do they acknowledge that they knew each other before (well, I feel everyone could tell)? Is Chuuya happy he left? Or is he mixed about them working together again? Is Dazai feeling mixed up because Chuuya left him (but now after Odasaku he understands it better)?

I was trying to think of this had been mentioned in your comics on them but I didn’t think it’d been mentioned except in the intervening years Dazai had to deal with Mori’s complaining about Chuuya’s defection.

I talked about it a little bit in this post:

If Oda dies the same way… it’s a fun question. Dazai would leave, Dazai would still refuse to work for the government, so his options are limited. I can’t imagine Chuuya leaving at 16, join the ADA, and the mafia not knowing a thing about it? So what would Dazai do? Chuuya left and joined a group and now that group is his only option in Yokohama. If he wants to join them, he’ll still have to wait two years for his records to be erased and hidden. And he knows Chuuya is gonna be there, and he knows him!! How frustrating and stressful is that wait going to be? I’d like Chuuya to be gone when Dazai first joins, so Entrance Exam can still take place in a similar way. Maybe he accompanied Ranpo on his contract out of town? I do wonder if he’d confront Dazai publicly or in private… I’m still not sure how much he told the ADA about his own origins.

To expand on that, Entrance Exam the novel is quite different from the anime. Ranpo is on an investigation in Kyushu until the finale of Kunikida and Dazai's investigation to find and stop the Azure Messenger/Apostle. Ranpo shows up in person in time to deduce where the bomb was located (and Dazai tests his "ability" by pinching his hair at this moment). It's a key moment for Dazai because it's the moment he decides the ADA is the real deal and they just might be what he's looking for (this exam went both ways).

oh no this is gonna be long and turn into an improvised analysis of Entrance Exam

So, that's the thing: Dazai was very much testing the ADA for the entirety of his entrance exam. He was figuring out clues and coming to conclusions much faster than Kunikida was, but he wouldn't tell him outright: he was artfully slipping half-clues into his conversations with Kunikida to see if he would pick up on them. And he did! Which made him a good potential partner! Because Dazai didn't expect the ADA to be on his level, but wanted them to be able to work with him. And then there was Ranpo who very much was on his level and Dazai fanboy'd about it.

so. my AU.

It's funny, since Dazai joins at 20, and Chuuya left at 16 (almost 17), that they still get their 4-year gap. Except! this time the roles are reversed and Chuuya wasn't quite concerned about hiding (that's a whole other subject). I can't imagine Dazai watching Chuuya "betray" (leave) the PM on his own without consequences only to join some do-gooders not too long after and not get curious. Wanting to study him under a microscope and all.

So Dazai would have some knowledge from observing the ADA and Chuuya from a distance. Basic stuff like what they do and roughly who works there. I would expect canon Dazai to have had similar knowledge before his entrance exam, but who knows.

There was probably something reassuring in Chuuya seemingly having found a place in the light after everything he went through. But it would also a good excuse for comparison and self-depreciation. Fortunately, Dazai is motivated by Oda's words and a never-ending need to one-up Chuuya. Imagine the embarrassment if he gave up on his best chance of helping people because he was afraid of facing Chuuya.

Now, Let's say Chuuya was accompanying Ranpo on that investigation out of town. When they get back, it's to a crisis, and a Dazai who has been there for a while.

Ranpo was the one to figure out Chuuya's past in this AU, he knows about his (short) time in the mafia, but Dazai and his ability were a well-kept secret of the PM. Chuuya wouldn't spoil that: he didn't leave out of hatred for the mafia, he left out of grief and because he had that opportunity. It would probably take Ranpo 3 seconds to connect the missing dots once Dazai is revealed: singularity -> can't stop it -> has been used 3 times -> still alive -> something to stop him -> nullification -> Dazai.

Everything hinges on Ranpo and what he knows of this new recruit before meeting him: Fukuzawa and Kunikida are suspicious of Dazai being sent to infiltrate them, Fukuzawa is willing to kill Dazai over these suspicions, Chuuya would recognize Dazai instantly and also get suspicious and, depending on his reaction, seal his fate.

FORTUNATELY we know Fukuzawa talked to Ranpo beforehand and canonically Ranpo took one good look at Dazai and decided he was fine. So I say Ranpo kept Chuuya distracted for the rest of that day. Kunikida still fake-shot Dazai, they still got the airplane back up (hush about Chuuya who could have caught it), Dazai still made an excellent impression on Kunikida, and everything went as smoothly.

Which would bring their confrontation to afterwards. The big finale with Sasaki happens a few days later, but Dazai vanishes during that time, presumably to investigate and corner her. That does leave us with the perfect opportunity for Dazai and Chuuya to cross paths (Chuuya would have heard Dazai's name at some point) and confront each other. I did mention Chuuya had a bit of a dark justice/vigilantism phase during his time with Murase before the ADA, and Dazai's objective at that moment is to bring an end to Sasaki by his own means, as the justice system would never be able to reach her, so... 🤝

Another fun thing about Entrance Exam is that Kunikida is always just on the verge of figuring out what Dazai's deal is, but Dazai keeps being stupid and annoying exactly during those moments, so Kunikida throws his doubts out the window along with Dazai every time.

In short, Ranpo would know Dazai and Chuuya used to know each other, skk would have their confrontation in private and shake hands over doing what the system can't handle, and Fukuzawa and Yosano might be able to connect the dots themselves after a while of watching them, but keep it silent.

Our beloved Kunikida came in too late to know Chuuya's backstory and had a similar instant annoyance and teamwork chemistry with Dazai that Chuuya seems to be also experiencing, so to him this is just Dazai weirdness. Any subsequent addition to the ADA would have no reason to question them.

[weirdo09]

hobie brown

i’d just like to say, i hope y’all never meet a black boy nor man because y’all’s behavior over one black teenager is honestly disturbing.

like the racist headcanons, the not taking accountability for your disturbing fics about him because “HIS AGE ISNT MENTIONED!!” like don’t act dumb, you know them people said that he’s a slight older boy than miles which would be like 1-2 years, making him 16-17. it’s also just the “i want his dick inside of me” “i want to have his kids” and the sex hcs where it’s like “he’ll fuck you hard and not give you aftercare, just leaves you to take care of yourself.”

i’m not really bothered by the smut fics and hcs cause he is attractive and i will read them every once in awhile but y’all be taking it to the extremes, calling him toxic, making him out like some abusive boyfriend, he’s only sweet when he wants you to have sex with him, he only wants you for sex, he’s a full person but only cool because he’s in a band and has sex with you, he lets his band mates fuck you without your consent, he rapes you for whatever reason (y’all’s writings not mine), he doesn���t care about stopping to see if you’re okay or if you need a break.

basically what i’m seeing is that he’s only good for sex and some of the good fics about him only portray certain parts of him. like i’m all for writing about your favorite characters n what not but if you’re basically gonna treat his character like you’re personal boytoy and not see him as anything else, it’s really harmful. especially with y’all not tagging your fics correctly and the smut fics i previously mention get seen by a minor who would want to read smut of him but not that bullcrap.

y’all literally write him being abusive to his partner, not just physically but call it “teasing”. i’m sorry but if my partner said something about breaking up with me or that i’m not good enough, would i think that that’s just “teasing”? like honestly, if you treat all your ‘blorbos’ like this then i feel sorry for you because hobie’s an amazing character that isn’t just there for you to dream about fucking and getting pregnant by him.

he’s there to show you how corruption and fascism impacting your way of life can lead to you wanting to rebel and become an anarchist to that society. he’s there to teach you that you can make your rules, that you’re more than what one person tells you, you tell yourself what you wanna be. he’s a symbol for black people who don’t wanna follow the rules of a white supremacist, fascist society, for the people who’ve ever just been like “fuck the government, i’m my own person.”

i really feel like y’all take him for granted and he is a character for a children’s type of media so the “well minors shouldn’t be looking for his smut!!” doesn’t work here. honestly, do y’all ever care about characters that aren’t perceived as “fuckable” or “attractive” by your standards? it just really pisses me off because y’all act like that’s all he’s there for, your yearning for BBC has really dimmed your perception of this character. HES A IMPORTANT CHARACTER FOR YALL TO ROLE MODEL CAUSE ITS OBVIOUS YALL DONT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE MOVIE’S CHILD AUDIENCE BUT YOU GIVE A FUCK ABOUT HIM SO

if you care about hobie, please remember that there’s more to him than you wanting him to fuck you and he would hate the things that you’ve done to him because you have bigger issues in the world than “he would fuck you with his big cock.” LIKE WAKE THE FUCK UP WE COULD BE MAKING ANALYSIS OF HIS CHARACTER BUT INSTEAD YOU THINK THAT HES JUST THERE TO BE EYE CANDY LIKE OMGGGG

just please for the sack of everyone, learn more about his character and stop tryna be antiblack and sex crazed over him. if you love hobie, just stop being the way that you are because it’s honestly disgusting to have to see grown adults wanting a canon minor to fuck them. you ain’t slick, the fact that i even have to write this is disgusting. do better, fandom is more than saying that you would fuck a character, care more about the teenagers on this site that are in the fandom with you as well. stop being selfish and start caring about the other people in the fandom.

[peachesofteal]

Reading “Dead Disco” again, and Lord does it bring back such familiar feelings.

I was Darling in my early twenties. I have bipolar disorder, and was horrible about taking my meds, causing my brain to be in shambles half the time. I had horrible anxiety, one boyfriend couldn’t stick around because he needed someone “normal,” it hurt. And it sucks to not fully understand yourself or why you act/think the way you do.

But then, when I turned 25, I met a man. And oooohhhh did he change my life. He saw me - I mean REALLY saw me. He didn’t let me push him away, he never let the nasty thoughts in my head win. If I fell into a dark space, he sat there with me until I felt strong enough to climb back out. He was there every step of the way. I didn’t think it would last, because, hello… it’s me. Surely I’ll ruin it, right? For once, I’m happy I was wrong.

On Wednesday, we’re going to our favorite restaurant to celebrate our five year anniversary, and after dessert, I’m going to give him the (well cleaned) positive pregnancy test I took two weeks ago.

My point, Darlings, is that it does get better. You will not be in the dark forever. You will find true happiness, whether it be through friends, a lover, a pet, a hobby, or (saving the best for last) yourself. Never stop fighting for your happiness. Ever. You are so much stronger and braver than you think.

I promise, we’re all going to be okay in the end. ❤️ sorry for the rant - your writing puts me in my damn feelings and I love you for it.

I wanted to keep this in my inbox forever, selfishly, but then I wouldn’t be able to share it with others who I know might be feeling or experiencing the same things.

Tw mental health (and some personal lore which feels a little uncomfy if I’m being honest but this felt important to me so)

I know your story. I suspect others know it too. I know how it feels to think something is broken in your brain, how it feels to be afraid that you’ll never “be normal”, what it’s like to think the best parts of your personality are actually just symptoms of some “mental disorder” (I call it ✨ spicy brain ✨ because I refuse to call anything disordered)

You’re right, the darkness does end. Things do get better. They did for me, they did for you, and they will for all the darlings who haven’t gotten there yet. With or without spicy brains.

The key is to not give up. Keep going. Keep fighting. Don’t quit. The world didn’t end when I was 17, or 23, or 25. It didn’t end through the highest highs and the lowest lows. I kept going and so did you, and I’m so happy for you. I’m proud of you. Of us. And to top it all off, you found your person. So did I. A triumph in itself, for someone like darling. And sure, do I still struggle? Yeah, as I’m sure you might as well. But we know the darkness doesn’t last forever, and I’d love to try to give that hope, that knowledge to someone who’s in the bottom of the well right now.

I’m unbelievably thrilled for you and your happiness. I hope your anniversary was lovely, and I’m sending you all my love for your big news.

Thank you so much for sending this to me. 🩵 this was really special.

[yaut-jaknowit]

Before A Throne

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3225

Summary: We'ar-ow takes you to a new spot on the ship. New for you. Her throne room. As the Monarch of this clan, she must delegate tasks and ensure her clan thrives. It's a perfect time to show you off. As her pet, you are sat upon the steps of her throne and forced to stay. Like a good pet.

Author Note: Uh-oh… that anger is rising!

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

A black, leather-style collar was hanging from We’ar-ow’s pointer finger. An offer, but more of a demand. It was for you. A collar. For you. To wear. Your body shook with rage that somehow didn’t pelt her in the face with swinging fists or venom-filled words. This was beyond anything you could handle.

“Why?” you grounded out through clenched teeth. The last two days have been calm. She lets you stay in your room the entire time as you wasted away from boredness. But it was better than facing the damn dragon that has you as her pet. Oh, that really grinded your gears truly right now. How dare she?! You’re a person! With thoughts, with feelings, with emotions. She thinks it normal to chain you up with a collar. You’re not a dog or some Houdini child. You’ve been good around her, for the most part.

Her piercing gaze was kept on you as she peered over her mandibles to look down at you. God, she was massive. At least two feet taller. Probably closer to three feet taller. You don’t even reach her midriff while standing in front of her.

The two bottom mandibles flutter mindlessly. “Pets wear collars.” She was completely pushing your buttons. Your nails bit harshly into the pads of flesh that made up your hands. “Pets wear their collars proudly,” she continued.

Your teeth grinded against each other as you gazed up at her. Anger had to be rolling off of you in waves. Deadly, fatal waves that if it was any other Yautja, you would be dead in a heart beat.

A deep breath cycled through your lungs. “I’m not a pet,” you argued, finally putting your foot down. You were done playing this game.

Wow, it took four days to break you.

We’ar-ow leaned down, invading your personal space, and wrapped a hand around your neck. Instantly, you freaked and kicked out your legs to fight for life. Her hold wasn’t vicious or hurting. Just something to keep you there, before her. “But, you are. Your skin is marred with my symbol as Monarch. And your previous failed to protect you, his pet. Why resist? I can give you life worry-free and relaxing on furs I’ve hunted myself,” she explained and slowly blinked at you.

At her words, your eyes narrowed. Dwainet had hunted furs for you, as a mate. From experience, that was a mate thing to gather survival items for the other. But, you did only had one life experience. So maybe she was just doing what an owner does with a pet.

“You forcefully put that mark on my skin! And as a pet. I won’t lower myself to that standard just because it’s an easy life. I’d rather live a hard life than be humiliated as a pet,” you spat out the last words as if it was vile. Truly it was. “I wasn’t a pet to Dwainet. He was my mate.” You finally let the cat out of the bag.

And she didn’t react in a negative way. Just ‘hmpf’ed and slightly grinned. Her face was still close, breath baring down on you. “You think I didn’t know that. You reeked of his mating scent. What I don’t understand is why? You would let a low ranking, barely blooded male to mate with you?” she questioned as if it was the more absurd thing to ever do.

Now she was questioning your love life! God, save your soul. “Because humans don’t care about that! I fell in love with him.” Her hand tightened for a second, your body freezing when you remembered how easily it would be snap your neck.

Then, she took a step forward, forcing you backwards. All the way until your back met the cool wall of your new room. It felt like she grew an extra foot or two as she completely towered over your trembling form. You had made a fatal error, you felt it in your bones as she studied you. “Young and dumb. The two of you are. How was this lesson learned? Well? I hope.”

You wanted to shy away from her intense stare down, but the Yautja refused to let up for a moment. As if she wanted to get it through your thick skull. “What do you think would’ve happened if I had not found you? Unclaimed physically by another Yautja. You were just a plaything to anyone who came along your path. You are ooman. You would not survive out there,” she stated. Her hot, thick body pressed against yours, trapped between her and the wall. Not an inch of relief to escape.

That boiling rage just came back in full force. Fire flickering mightily in your eyes. “You think I’m just some weak human that needed saving? You think you are doing me favor?!” you scoffed and wiggled a little. It just further increased your worries. She wasn’t letting you go or move.

Plainly, frankly, she stated: “yes.” Her thumb stroked along the ridge of your cheek bone. If it wasn’t for the sharp talon at the end so close to your eye, you would’ve been possibly distracted. It was soothing, almost. “So, either make a choice now. Make this easier on yourself and I or I will show you why I was made Monarch.”

The translator even carried over the dreadful threat in her voice and words. You didn’t have much of choice besides pain and suffering. You let your head loll back and thunk against the wall. “It’s a lose-lose situation, anyhow.” You paused and stared blankly up at the grey ceiling. “Just get it over with.” You were not winning this argument. You would never win one with her. You were done.

Her hand slipped away, leaving behind goosebumps. You heard the clinking of metal before the warm leather embraced from the back of your neck and locked together on your throat. You swallowed and felt the way it effected the bobbing of your throat.

“Ruach finished your clothing as well. Pick what you want. I’m taking you out.” Your body froze at her words. You knew she wasn’t about to kill you. She was hauling you back into the public of her kind. Somewhere you didn’t want to be. The last place you wanted to be. It’s only been two days… can’t you get like two years to recuperate after that traumatic episode.

Like you learned earlier… there was no winning an argument with her. It’s best to just shut up and sit along for the ride. Until an exit becomes clear. That was your new goal. Going home.

We’ar-ow turned around then and walked out of the room. At least she’ll give you some privacy to change. The least she could give after humiliating you lately. You knew nakedness was fine when it came to their species. It was the norm. To you, however, was the complete opposite.

How will you ever survive in this new world.

Up against the wall was a newly placed box. You stomped over to it and ripped open the lid. Just like how We’ar-ow had stated, Ruach had finished your clothing. Your jaw dropped at the first one on top. It wasn’t anything revealing or anything but it was strictly formal. Well, shit. Formal meant parties or gatherings of the sort. Such things you will most likely be forced to join.

A grumbled groan passed through your nose. You dug through the box to find something that could be considered for your kind. Please have a T-shirt and short or pants. Something close to it, please!

Maybe god had mercy on your poor soul. A semi-normal looking T-shirt with off-setting pants sat in the box. You pulled those out with a smile and pumped your fists above your head in victory. “Yes!” you cheered, ready to strip when chittering laughter met your ears. You froze then whipped your head over in the noise’s direction.

Of course, it couldn’t be anyone else. You shied away from her amused gaze and stood normally. There goes your privacy.

“I did not know it takes clothes to please my pet,” she purred. There she goes, ruining the moment. Your shoulders slumped, teeth grinding against one another.

It was worth a shot. “Gonna give me privacy to change?” you questioned and did your best to hold back the anger in your voice. An emotion she chittered her amusement once more.

“No.”

If only you could throttle her. You sighed in defeat before swiftly stripping down to your underwear and pulling on the new clothing. They fit… perfectly, as much as you hated to admit it. They weren’t snug in any place. The fabric didn’t rub. In all honesty, the fabric felt like heaven against your skin. Not too soft that it felt like nothing was there, but was smooth to your skin. If the situation was different, you would be thanking Ruach for the clothing. Instead, you just cursed at him less in your mind.

The Yautja strutted over to you and lightly grasped your chin to bring it up. There was a softness you’ve only seen in the privacy of her space. “They are to liking?” she asked, voice softened close to a whisper.

Your throat bobbed, head unable to nod. “Y-yeah,” you stuttered, feeling how your heart pounded in your chest. So hard, it felt like it was about to jump out into her hands.

She hummed, other hand coming up and stroking the like-leather collar around your throat. “You may not like it now. Once your emotions clear, you will see how being a Monarch’s pet will be a great life.” The moment was crushed. You turned your head out of her hold and took two massive steps away from her. She continued to stand before you, hand falling back to her side.

“We head out now,” she demanded then spun on her heel and marched out of the door. In the whirlwind of emotions flying in your head, you timidly follow after her, like a shadow. Your new clothing swaying with each step as the two of you left her room and into the elevator.

Yautja filled the halls, conversing or going their own ways. Just like before, all of them spilt, leaving a wide, respectful berth to their Monarch. You just went along with everything, feeling the way the new collar burned against your skin. A reminder in the back of your mind, a sight that everyone could see. You seethed quietly.

After a couple of minutes, you realized you didn’t know where she was taking you. These halls weren’t familiar, even after half a year being on the ship. Dwainet never took you out of his room often. Something you didn’t mind too much. Away from danger, away from prying eyes.

A simple door slid back to reveal a massive room with a towering ceiling. Your jaw dropped. You’ve never been here before, let alone heard about it. Your steps slowed to a stop as you took in the room. We’ar-ow took notice and looked over her shoulder. “Come,” she stated and gestured with her head to keep up. Which, you did to the best of your ability as you admired the place.

This was no simple room compared to the door, something you realized. It was highly decorated, like a throne room for a king or queen.

That’s when it hit you. It was a throne room for We’ar-ow. She’s the Monarch. The highest standing power within her clan. Why has she brought you here?

Mentioned Yautja gracefully took the steps up a throne designed for her size. She sat down then crossed a leg over the other and leaned on an elbow. With her other hand, she motioned with a finger to come towards. Like a lost dog, you did so, eyes flickering around the place. You still couldn’t believe the size of this place and the way it was filled. It was definitely different compared to anywhere else on the ship.

The steps were taller than back on earth but you still climbed and stood before the Monarch on her throne. With no one in here, she let a small smirk grace her lips. We’ar-ow pointed to a spot next to her throne, still on the steps. “Sit, I have a few issues to resolve,” she said and let her arm rest in her lap.

Whatever magic gripped you was broken at her words. Sitting at her feet like a peasant! You wanted to scream at her. Instead, you hesitantly plopped harshly on the steps next to her throne and crossed your arms. To be honest, that hurt you more than you expected. You glared at the floor.

A hand petted the top of your head. “Calm, pet. This will be over shortly.” Yeah, when I find a way to escape from this hell hole and go back home.

It wasn’t until now that you realized how homesick you were. Away from your friends, you family. God, you left them without much of a notice. Gone, just like that. They probably think you’re dead or something like that. You shake your head to get her hand off. She pulled away without complaint.

Then, the real fun began.

Just sitting there while she talked with other Yautjas. For hours. For literal hours. Your butt on the metal covered in what felt like carpet wasn’t nice. It ruined your back, made your buttock muscles beyond sore. Worse of all, you felt yourself going crazy! What did she expect you to do for hours and blankly staring at the ground?! You needed something to toy with, something to fidget with. This couldn’t be a daily thing.

Thankfully, you had the translator, so you had one thing to entertain yourself with. Listening to the talk of everyday life of a Yautja and the clan. An idea came to mind as you observed. Maybe you could find out a way to escape by listening. Learn their patterns, learn the place from the inside out. A sly smile graced your face but was quickly wiped off. You couldn’t have anyone getting any hints of your thoughts.

This is how the day went on. You, a pet, sitting at their master’s feet as she discussed with her people about issues among the clan. During the entire time, you kept a passive look on your face as you rested your chin on your hand. How long will this go on?

Yet, this time gave you a chance to think so more. That’s all you could do whole you waited, impatiently, mind you.

To We’ar-ow’s room has a keypad that she inputted a code to entire. A code you didn’t know was strictly for her room or her own code to have access to the entire ship. You’ll have to pay closer attention to when she puts it in to learn what it is. Hopefully, it was the latter to help you get out of here. If she had a keycode to access the place, you’ll have unlimited access everywhere.

Perfect. At least, you have an idea on where to start.

“Pet.” As much as you hated to admit it, you turned your head in We’ar-ow’s call. Immediately, you scowled and rolled your eyes. How stupid of you.

We’ar-ow had stood up sometime during your inner monologue. You also stood up as well, considerably short than her hulking form. Her eyes met yours for a short second before she began to walk down the steps. You stayed for an extra moment and admired the throne room one more time. It was different to any other place you’ve seen on the ship. It was nice to see something fresh here.

Not another words was spoke to you. It was back to her room once more. You didn’t mind it one bit. Away from prying eyes and able to find something to fidget with, at least.

After passing the threshold of her quarters, a hand landed on your chest and pushed you flush with wall next to the door. You couldn’t help the gasp that pierced the quiet air. Your hand coming up to wrap around her thick wrist, as if you could pull it off. “We’ar-ow?” you questioned, the first time you’ve uttered her name.

You saw the sharp rise of her chest the second after the name left your lips. The hand added a hair of weight, enough to be noticed. We’ar-ow leaned in, further crowding you to the wall. Her limb slid up to wrap around your neck, thumb forcefully tilting your head up more. She bent at the waist, knees bending to help her get to your shorter height.

With trembling rapture, you watched as she brought her massive head to your neck. You felt her hot breath fan over the fragile skin there. You whimpered in terror and clenched your eyes closed.

Then, she rubbed her head against your throat. The entirety of your body tensed painfully, ready for a killing blow to happen. But nothing besides the confusion on what she was doing. She changed sides of your neck, continuously rubbing against you like a cat. Your voice was lodged in your esophagus, stuck behind a lump of fright.

The terror that controlled your body had you froze like a deer in headlights. You didn’t know what to do or act in this situation. Dwainet has never done something like before.

Finally, you were able to swallow. “W-what are, are you doing?” you asked, voice trembling. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling as she kept rubbing herself on your neck.

“Scent marking you,” she explained, free hand pinning your hip to the wall as well. You were completely stuck, no room to escape from her clutches. You gritted your teeth painfully, chest taking shaky breaths.

So, she was doing what cats do, or dogs as well. Rubbing her scent on you, further claiming you as her pet. You slowly untensed your muscles to relax against the wall and let her do her thing. The day had been long and drawn out. The quicker she gets this done, the quicker you get to be in the safety of your room.

It was just the neck she went for. The hand on your hip slid up, underneath your shirt and palmed at your stomach. “Hey!” you snapped, without meaning to. That was too far though, more than something you were willing to let go.

We’ar-ow’s scent marking stilled, releasing a short trill in question; a sound you haven’t heard before from her. You reached for the limb on your stomach and tugged on it. “That’s too far.” But, the hand didn’t budge. “Don’t, don’t touch me.”

“I must scent mark you. You still have that male’s scent lingering on you.” Her hand, thankfully, slid back down to rest on your hip.

“Just stay to my neck, okay?” Your voice continued to tremble the entire time. And, We’ar-ow took you seriously. She pulled away from your neck and stared down at you. Not a word was said as she walked off like nothing happened. On the other hand, you stayed glued to the wall, life partially flashing before my eyes.

The Yautja left you there, to your own devices.

Part 1 |Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Dreamers

Lee Seokmin (DK) x fem!reader

Genre: mostly fluff, with a hint of anxiety

Word Count: 10.9k

Wanings: food mentions. adult language. a few parts may come off as suggestive, but not really. y/n is an environmentalist but not vegan.

[Series: Serenity Street 17] Sleepwalking is a nasty issue. You find yourself in the correct building but wrong apartment, sharing a room with a ridiculously cute boy who seems to find it amusing.

Note: This one goes out to all of my ambitious girlies! Keep working towards your dreams!

The moment you stepped onto the evening bus you regretted the decision. 

With a bright smile, Sunny greeted you, rushing to move her bags into her lap so you could take the seat next to her, all while never once taking her eyes off you. Her brows rose in a questioning manner. You cursed under your breath as your neighbour’s usual warm smile morphed into a look of disbelief when you sank into the seat next to her.

With a sigh, you raised a hand to silence her. “I know.”

But she didn’t take the hint. “When was the last time you slept? Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Why do you keep asking questions you already know the answer to?” you whined and hugged your bag close to your chest. “I’m sure you heard me showering at 3 am.”

“The bags under your eyes aren’t supposed to make it look like you have a black eye,” she told you as if she hadn’t heard you at all, still eyeing you in worry. “How much did you sleep? You look worse than Jeonghan when he thought I was mad at him.”

“Does it matter?” You huffed. “At least I’m getting some rest.” 

“I think it only counts as rest if you actually get 8 hours of sleep every once in a while,” she countered with a snicker, “which, by the looks of it,” she gave you a once-over, followed by a disappointed a sigh, “you haven’t had in years.”

“I sleep just fine. I’m healthy, I am productive,” you defended and tightened your hold on your bag. “Sleep is for the weak anyway.”

Sunny rolled her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how you’re friends with me but not Jihoon. Your mentality is almost identical.”

“Listen, somebody has to do the work. And unlike some, I’d actually like my work to amount to something bigger than an average paycheck that barely covers my bills. I have ambitions. I want to make the world a better place.”

“Honey, at this rate you’re not gonna live long enough to see your ambitions come to life,” she grumbled under her breath and linked your arms. “It’s okay to rest every once in a while. Take a week off from work and actually just do something fun for a change.”

You grimaced. “I’d rather not. Messes with my groove.”

Sunny had no words left to say. She stared at you with a wide mouth for a moment before sputtering, “How– How are we friends?”

“Fate brought us together so you could nag me at all possible hours,” you joked, looking out the window now to avoid missing your stop. “But seriously, I don’t need to rest. I love my job and my colleagues and I’m making a change.”

“You should at least go to sleep early tonight.”

“Can’t. I have a big report due next week and I don’t want to miss my deadlines.”

Her gaze hardened immediately as she cursed, “Why, you little–”

“Hey!”

“I’m just worried about you,” she mumbled through a pout just as your bus arrived at your shared destination. With a begrudging sigh, she unlinked your arms and gave you an encouraging pat on the shoulder as the two of you stood up and walked over to the door “Well, I guess it’s your life. But I swear–” she pointed at your face, eyes squinted in a glare; she interrupted herself mid-sentence, “no, I vow that if you collapse under the stress, I’ll personally go and hand in a letter of resignation in your name.”

You scoffed at her empty promises, smiled, and stepped off the bus. You had no doubt you would be just fine and she was overreacting over nothing. She couldn’t wrap her mind around your work ethic and goals – she was built of an entirely different wood.

Then again, you couldn’t deny you often felt a little jealous of her. The nagging feeling hit once again when you looked up to find Jeonghan standing at the gate of your building, his smile widening the closer Sunny and you got to him. You envied that she had found – through trials and tribulations, you’d admit – a perfect man to brighten her days while you had no time to even contemplate romance.

“How was your day, my beautiful lady?” Jeonghan greeted your neighbour with a sweet kiss on her forehead before taking her bag and leading her inside with a hand on her back. He didn’t forget to offer you a welcoming smile and a friendly “good evening” as well, both of which you returned.

“Are you going to the 5th floor tonight?” you asked them as the three of you trudged up the stairs and they made no effort to walk to her apartment. 

Sunny nodded. “It’s movie night and he has the bigger TV.”

Jeonghan let out a loud ‘ha!’ and grinned at her victoriously. “So you admit it. My TV’s better than yours!”

“That’s–” She sighed deeply. “That is not the point right now–”

“How is it not?”

Unable to continue watching their lovers’ quarrel, you hummed and waved them goodbye before promptly unlocking your apartment, walking in, and quickly locking it again as if their bickering or cheesy nicknames could otherwise follow after you. 

You had far more important things to do, after all. 

With a tired sigh, you warmed up some of last night’s leftovers and opened your laptop. The familiar Times New Roman font on your screen prompted a soft groan, but still you squared your shoulders and got to work. 

If you were quick, you’d get this done way before the deadline. Maybe you could even go to work in the morning with a nearly finished report! You smiled at the thought. 

But life doesn’t always go as expected. 

You thought you were old enough to know this fact already. After all, when had life ever followed your expectations? It seemed to enjoy throwing curve balls right at your head.

You woke up with a splitting headache at 7 am, an hour before your usual alarm. It was strange – you concluded so as you stared at the time on your phone through a squint. With a soft huff, you let the phone drop back onto the mattress and your head onto the pillows.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” you then heard a voice.

Your eyes snapped open. There was someone in your room. 

The voice sounded apologetic as it continued in a whisper, “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make any noise. Sorry. Let me just get my shirt and–”

You sat up abruptly to stare at the intruder – a handsome familiar-looking man shuffled around the walk-in closet. Worst of all – he was shirtless. You dreaded to think of what had happened the night before.

“Who– Who are you?” you stuttered out, instinctively lifting the blanket higher against your torso despite the fact that you were fully clothed. “Why are you in my apart–” 

Then it hit you. The worst of the worst realities. 

“Holy shit, this isn’t my apartment!” you screamed and jumped out of bed to apologise profusely. “I’m so so sorry! I had no idea! I don’t how–”

“Hey, hey!” The man – now wearing a crispy white button-up shirt – walked out of the closet hurriedly, a worried smile on his face as he rushed to comfort you with a gentle hand on your back, leading you to sit back on the bed. “It’s okay.” He let out a laugh. “I was going to let you sleep for a while more. It’s okay.”

You had no clue how he could be so calm about this. What the hell happened last night?!

You stuttered. You sputtered. You gasped for air like a fish out of the water. You were on the verge of a panic attack at 7 am in the morning and he was smiling, all while patting and rubbing your back like it was the most natural thing. 

“Why am I here?” you eventually managed to breathe out. You hated to admit that his calm and friendly nature was helping you adjust to the situation.

He raised a brow, his soothing movements stopping. “I was hoping you could answer that.” 

When you made no move to do so and only offered him a puzzled look, he shrugged. “I woke up to someone trying to unlock my door at 2 am. Almost cried, actually, but then I heard a knock and Mingyu telling me to open the door, so I did and you…” He gestured widely to his room. “Well, you came in and went straight to bed as if it was your own home. I didn’t know what to do but Mingyu and I figured you needed to rest.”

You stared at him with a dropped jaw. “You didn’t think to call the police?”

“Well,” he grimaced, “I was going to but you really looked like you needed to sleep.” He gave you a worried look, inspecting your face. “You still do, actually. Do you sleep at all, like, outside of my bed?”

“I sleep plenty,” you scoffed and got out of the bed, wiping your face with your sleeves as if to rid it of any evidence that might suggest otherwise. With an awkward look, you bowed and began heading out. “Well, thank you for… your hospitality. I’ll get going. I’m sorry for bothering you. This won’t happen again.”

Before he could say another word, you slammed the door shut behind you and began heading… where were you heading?

You looked around the hallway. It was still your building. You could recognise these hallways even in your sleep. A quick glance informed you that you had just stepped out of apartment 1D – the apartment directly below yours.

You groaned as the realisation sank in that you could never visit the first floor without feeling awkward again. With a sigh, you headed up the stairs to your own apartment.

“Isn’t that Seokmin’s apartment?” Sunny pointed out when you told her of your horrible adventure on the bus home from work later that day. She frowned a little as she tried to recall exactly who lived there. 

“Whoever it was, at least it wasn’t Jihoon.” You shuttered to even think about it.

Sunny grimaced. “Yeah, I’d be bailing you both out of jail right about now.” She then shrugged. “Yeah, I think that’s Seokmin’s apartment. He really just let you stay the night there?”

“Apparently?” You wanted to laugh at the insanity of the situation. “I have no recollection of what happened or how I ended up there. The last thing I remember is working on my report in my kitchen and then waking up in a shirtless man’s apartment.”

“Shirt–” She almost broke her neck at the speed she turned her head to look at you with wide eyes. “He was shirtless when you woke up?!”

“He was getting dressed for work–”

“Well, is he hot?!”

You had never wanted to throw someone out of a moving vehicle so much before. “Is this what you’re focusing on right now? I’m going through a crisis here!”

“Yeah but–”

“You literally have a boyfriend!”

“Yeah, but–” She paused mid-excuse and nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Right. You have a point there.”

“How did I possibly end up in his apartment at night without remembering it?” you contemplated, leaning your head back against the seat. “I can’t think of a single explanation.”

“It is weird,” Sunny hummed in agreement as the bus rolled to your stop. The two of you got off. 

“Where’s Jeonghan?” you wondered in surprise upon not seeing him all the way up to the second floor.

Sunny shrugged, still deep in thought about your predicament. “I don’t know. Probably causing trouble with Junhui again. Possibly getting on Joshua’s or Hyesoo’s nerves. Maybe he stole someone’s mail or took the hinges off someone’s door. Not my problem.”

You could only stare at her in absolute wonder. “He’s your boyfriend.”

“He’s his own person.” She then clapped her hands together in revelation, stopping in her steps in the middle of the hallway. “Didn’t you say you used to sleep-walk as a kid? I swear you mentioned it over coffee once.”

You nodded. “Yeah, but it hasn’t happened in a literal decade.”

“Who’s to say it didn’t happen again last night?” she suggested with a shrug. “By the way, do you wanna come over for coffee and cake? Jeonghan bought one on sale because the expiration date is today, but it’s sort of giant.”

After contemplating for a moment (more of a debate really, won by the grumbling of your stomach), you agreed and followed her into her apartment. 

As the two of you walked into the kitchen, she continued, “All I’m saying is that there’s a lot going on in your life right now and maybe it all worked together – the stress, the lack of sleep, you get the gist – and now you’re sleepwalking again.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“You should see a doctor about that,” Jeonghan suggested. You jumped in your spot before finding him sitting at the dining table, fully focused on assembling a lego set. He continued without a care in the world, “Sleepwalking can be a serious issue.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Why are you here?”

He finally glanced up to offer you an amused look and a chuckle. “I’m her boyfriend. Where else would I be?”

“I invited her over for coffee and cake,” Sunny informed him with a kiss on his cheek. “Play nice.”

“Yes, princess,” he spoke in reply before turning back to you. “But I would really go to the doctor if I was you. If it’s bad enough that you wake up in someone else’s apartment, it’s bad enough to warrant a doctor’s visit.”

You felt yourself pale, your blood running both ice cold and lava hot. “How– Why do you know that?”

“It’s the talk of the town,” he joked before waving his joke off. “Just kidding. I met Seokmin on my way to the store earlier and he told me. He seemed worried about you.”

“So it is Seokmin!” Sunny cheered victoriously. “I knew it! I told you!”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Good job.”

“Thanks.”

You sat down at the table and slumped in the chair. “But if I’m sleepwalking, why did I go to his apartment?”

“Isn’t it right below yours?” Jeonghan pointed out like it was obvious. “Asleep you probably thought you were going to your own apartment. You just mixed up the floors.”

“So,” you sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose before meeting his eyes and maintaining eye contact, “what you’re suggesting is that I fell asleep–”

“Yes.”

“–in my apartment–”

“Mhm.”

“–then left my apartment for some reason–”

“That much seems obvious.”

“–and then went to Seokmin’s apartment–”

“For some reason, yes.”

“–one level below my own?”

Eyes widening, he hummed at the slight error in the logic. “You do have a point. Why would you leave your own apartment to go to your apartment?”

“My head hurts just listening to this,” Sunny informed the two of you while serving the cake. As a slice fell over on a plate she quickly assigned to Jeonghan, she suddenly suggested, “What if you thought you were going on a walk and then returned home?”

Jeonghan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest as he began recounting, “So, what you think happened is that she fell asleep–”

“I’m going to kick the both of you out if you start again,” his girlfriend declared all of a sudden, pointing a knife in his direction. “I’m serious.”

“It is a reasonable guess though,” you decided as Sunny placed a plate of cake in front of you. “I do love going on walks when I’m stressed.”

“Then–”

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. You watched in mild amusement as Sunny and Jeonghan silently argued over who should open the door and if they should open the door at all. Eventually, to your surprise, Jeonghan relented and got up with a slight groan. The moment he was out of the kitchen, Sunny stole his seat across from you.

“I think the worst part is that I don’t know how to face him again, like ever,” you started the conversation again while taking a bite of the cake. “It was so awkward.”

“Speaking of awkward,” Jeonghan announced and led the newest guest into the apartment. The now familiar feeling of both ice and lava in your veins made a new appearance as you recognised the visitor. Your spoon dropped back on the table.

Seokmin offered you a friendly smile and a wave. “Ah, so that’s where you are. I tried your door but no one answered so I wondered if I had the wrong place.”

“You–” That was the only syllable you managed to voice. Your brain was scattered, filled with pictures of the awkward morning as well as a single fluttering butterfly carrying an obnoxious sign that said ‘he cares’. You gulped. 

Thankfully, Sunny stepped in. She smiled brightly and ushered Seokmin to take a seat while she found an extra plate. 

“I wasn’t going to come and bother anyone–” he tried to reject the offer of cake, but failed to. He was too friendly for his own good – just like the rumours around the building often said. He sat in the seat Sunny had preoccupied just seconds ago, right across from you, and smiled at her. “Well, if you insist.”

“What can I do?” Jeonghan sighed and theatrically looked away as he started his monologue. “Everyone loves my girlfriend so much. How can I possibly keep her–”

“Stop being melodramatic and come eat, idiot,” Sunny laughed and took the seat next to you. “So, Seokmin, what brings you to my friend over here?”

Seokmin opened his mouth to reply before turning to you and softly asking, “Is it okay to talk about it here?”

Sunny chuckled. “About her waking up in your apartment? Go ahead. I think everyone in the building knows already.”

“Oh.” He offered you an awkward-looking smile. “Well, sorry about that. I only mentioned it to Mingyu and Jeonghan but I guess– Nevermind. I just wanted to tell you to not worry about it.” His smile brightened, genuine and full of warmth all of a sudden. “We all have rough days – and rough nights – and I’m just glad you got some rest.”

“I have one question,” Jeonghan raised his arm before asking, “where did you sleep?”

“Me?” Seokmin shrugged. “The sofa. There was a woman in my bed.”

You somehow felt both worse and better than before. At least you knew he didn’t hold a grudge – after all, he seeked you out just to tell you it had been fine – but at the same time: you made this poor man sleep on the sofa instead of his objectively comfortable bed.

“I’m so sorry–”

“I said it’s fine,” he laughed and reached out to pat your hand. “I really don’t mind. You looked like you were sleeping very well. But–” he tilted his head in thought, a slight frown appearing, “–is it possible you were sleepwalking? You didn’t react at all last night, to anything. You just… brushed past us like we weren’t even there. I don’t know if you even had your eyes open.”

Sunny all but slammed her spoon on the table to give you a haughty look. “Yep. Told you. You were sleepwalking.”

You frowned. “I guess it’s possible.”

“Should I…” Seokmin scrunched up his nose in thought. “Should I maybe keep a look out in case this happens again?”

Immediately you shook your head. “No. No need. It was a one-time thing. A fluke. It was nothing. Won’t happen again.” In your attempts to not look at him, you happened to eye the clock. Your jaw dropped. “Oh. I should go home. I have–”

“–a report due in a week and deadlines to meet,” Sunny finished for you with a laugh. “I know, I know. Go.”

Jeonghan spoke up as well, “Take the plate and another slice of cake before you go. I want to know you eat at least a little between your work.”

You did as you were told and made your escape without another word, not even a goodbye to Seokmin. 

You had no time to feel guilty or consider that your heart fluttered a little at the thought of him coming to find you. Once again, you buried your feelings into lines of Times New Roman in your report.

“Oh, you come here too?” you heard his voice just two days later at the grocery store. 

It was a little surprising to find him there: the store was a good mile further from the one closest to your building. Like a startled owl, you stared and blinked at him in the cereal aisle. 

As you opened your mouth to respond, he chuckled and looked away at the cereals. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to talk to me. I just needed to get some Fruit Loops and figured I might as well say hi.” He placed the cereal in question into his basket and offered you one more friendly smile and a playful wave. “So, hi!”

“Hi,” you managed to drag out as you lifted your hand in a wave. 

With a chuckle, he turned and headed away to the next aisle. You thought you were free from him for the day. 

But alas: you found him again when you went to get eggs. He seemed to be contemplating between two brands. You tried your best to go unnoticed as you searched for your favourite local free range brand. To you dismay, he stood right in front of the eggs you seeked. 

“Excuse me,” you started and tapped his shoulder when he didn’t seem to notice.

He smiled upon recognising you. “Yeah?”

“Could you move? I want those eggs.”

“The expensive ones?” He raised an eyebrow and handed you a carton. “They’re almost triple the price of the store brand.”

“But they’re free range and locally sourced. You should try them,” you explained with the slightest bit of enthusiasm before placing eggs into your cart and walking away in the direction you thought him least likely to follow. 

You truly thought you were free of him when you went to the checkout, but once again, as if tasked by god himself to be wherever you went, Seokmin was in front of you in queue, meticulously placing his items on the counter. As he turned to put away his basket, his eyes found yours and a bright smile appeared on his face. “Oh, it’s you again!”

“It’s me again,” you replied with an awkward laugh. 

“Are you leaving too?” he wondered while fishing his bag for his wallet. When you nodded, his eyes lit up. “Do you need a ride home?”

Your eyes widened. “A ride?” 

Why was he offering you a ride home? Why was he so friendly with you at all? You had broken into his apartment – in the eyes of the legal system anyway – and he was smiling at you like you were a beloved friend. 

“Of course. We should stick together, no? We’re neighbours, after all– Hold on,” he interrupted himself to respond to the cashier, “Yes, by card please.Thank you.”

“You might have to wait a moment then,” you finally relented when he turned to you once again, eyes resembling a puppy. His smile widened at your words and he nodded. 

The ride home was short and awkward. You greatly feared he would try to retaliate for the emotional damage you might’ve caused by sleeping in his apartment. To your relief, he did not such thing and only continued cheerfully chattering.

“–but I feel like a dog would be too much work, you know? I love dogs but I don’t have that kind of time.” He offered you a glance. “Do you have any pets?”

You scrunched up your face in thought as the car rolled to a stop in the parking lot of the building. “I have a cactus.”

“... Does it have a name?”

Eager to not disappoint, you blurted out the first name that came to mind: “Bertha.” You shut your eyes in shame.

But as the two of you got out of his small red car, he laughed. “Bertha? Sounds lovely. Is she high-maintenance?”

“Very.”

“Yeah?”

You decided you liked his laughter and the bright smile that came with. “Easier than a dog though.”

He laughed louder at that and handed you your grocery bags. “I bet. Maybe I should get a cactus too.”

“I highly recommend,” you chuckled, finding his laughter contagious. “It’s very fulfilling to watch it do absolutely nothing all-year-round.”

When the two of you got into the hallway, he paused in front of the staircase. As you were about to ask him about it, he asked, “Do you need help with your bags?”

“No, I’m–”

“They look heavy.” He frowned before holding up a single finger, jogging over to his door, dropping his singular bag in front of it, and running back to you. Before you could formally protest, he grabbed the bags from your hands and began the journey up the stairs. When you froze in your spot, he turned to ask, “Well, aren’t you coming? Or were you going to sleep at mine again?”

Your face burned at the teasing comment. You decided following after him was the lesser evil. 

“There we go,” he cheered when the two of you reached your door. He rubbed his hands against his thighs a few times, awkwardly like a schoolboy, before smiling and waving goodbye. “I guess this is goodbye for the day. It was nice talking to you.”

You didn’t manage to even thank him before he was already halfway down the stairs. Maybe you made him as nervous as you made him. As you went to sleep that night, you replayed the interaction over and over again in your head, failing to hide a smile at the memory.

The valley of the mattress had a hold over you. You had never been so comfortable waking up – well, with the exception of maybe once or twice. 

The pillows were the perfect temperature, the blanket hugged you just right, the big teddy bear you hugged to your chest smelled fresh out of the washing machine– 

“Since when do I have a teddy bear?” you grumbled in confusion and pried your eyes open. You felt all blood rush away from your face as you looked at the bear – light brown with a baby blue bow, its eyes shining up at you. 

You had never even seen this bear before.

Cursing under your breath, you glanced around the room. You were back in your very own personal hell full of flowing beige curtains, white unfamiliar sheets, and teddy bears: the hell known as Seokmin’s apartment.

The realisation brought tears of frustration to your eyes, but you were too stubborn to let them loose. It was barely 8 am but you were already on the verge of crying – what a joke.

Wiping your eyes, you all but slammed the bear down on the bed (you’ll never admit you did feel a little bad about it seconds later and gave it a little pat on the head) and stood up. You stumbled out of the bedroom and towards the front door. 

As you reached for the doorknob – the final obstacle on your journey out of hell –, you heard his voice, sweet as honey like always, “Oh, you’re not going to stay for breakfast?”

You froze.

“I made extra waffles and all,” he added, sounding a little dejected. You didn’t have the heart to tell him no, so you sighed softly and turned around to give him a tight-lipped not-quite-genuine smile. His own grin brightened at the sight. “Is that a yes? You’ll stay?”

“Only for the waffles,” you lied and took a seat at his table. 

He laughed and placed a plate of fresh food in front of you before taking the seat across from you. “Not because you don’t want me to feel bad?”

“No,” you grabbed a fork and began filling it with food, “I just don’t like food waste.”

“Oh, right! Minghao said you work for an environmental company. That sounds cool.”

“Yeah?” You swallowed your food. “What about you? What do you do for work?”

He cleared his throat as though the question had caught him by surprise and he was too shy to say. After a moment of silence, he bashfully admitted, “I’m a music teacher at primary school.”

You blinked in surprise. “A music teacher?”

“Well, I wanted to be a singer– a musical actor, actually,” he explained, his voice fluctuating in volume and his ears bright red, “but I’m a little too shy to audition. So I just stuck with teaching others to sing.”

“That’s so cool though,” you told him with a smile. “Are you good at singing?”

His ears seemed to turn an even deeper red. “My friends think so but I don’t know. I think there’s still a lot of room for improvement.”

“Then why not audition? You only live once.”

He seemed thoughtful all of a sudden, watching your increasingly awkward self. You were just about ready to apologise for your possibly intrusive question when he softly asked, “Why not rest and live a little? You only live once, right?” 

The question felt awfully pointed and you didn’t fail to let him know with a glare. 

“I’m serious,” he declared, his lips pouting a little as if he was actually upset at your lack of self-care. “Whenever I see you, you’re always rushing somewhere. The only person you seem to be friends with is Sunny, and maybe Jeonghan by association.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself. “I’m also friends with Minghao–”

“He barely even leaves his apartment. He doesn’t count.”

“He counts!”

“Do I count?”

“Of course you–” Your eyes widened as did his smile. 

“We’re friends now!” he declared while pointing an accusatory finger at you, his voice raising in excitement. You began to protest but he was having none of it. “No take-backs! We’re friends – you just said so!”

“I didn’t actually–”

“Nope. No. We’re friends.” He narrowed his eyes at you, his smile never fading. “Or do you just sleep in random guys’ beds?”

You wanted to protest, you really did, but there’s only so much you can say to defend yourself against such accusations. Besides, his bright smile at your defeated nod could’ve won awards.

Accidentally waking in his apartment didn’t end. No. In fact, it somehow got worse.

Once every week quickly turned into once every few days. You were tempted to start keeping track of how often you woke up in your own bed but one could assume the numbers wouldn’t be too impressive. 

You grew accustomed to the smell of his detergent and the smell of breakfast in the mornings. Was this what it might’ve been like to be in a relationship? 

“How come you’ve never dated anyone?” he wondered once over breakfast.

You shrugged. “I don’t have the time.”

“Too busy saving the world?” he teased like he often did. Over time you stopped finding it annoying (perhaps because he sounded almost genuinely proud of you every time he said it). 

“I assume you don’t get a lot of dates either,” you bit right back between bites of pancakes.

He seemed to be taken aback by your observation. “What makes you think that?”

“You sleep with a teddy bear, Seokmin,” you deadpanned. 

He pouted. “Fluffy is a premium sleep companion.”

You laughed. “Is he?”

“You steal him every other night!” he accused with a chuckle. “I’m sure you know how great he is by now.”

“He’s truly a– What did you say? A premium sleep companion?”

“That’s what the label said when I got him.”

“Maybe I should invest in a bear too,” you wondered thoughtfully between bites. 

Seokmin raised an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you?”

“No ti–”

“If you make the ‘no time’ excuse again, I will scream,” he said with in utmost seriousness. You promptly shut up: Seokmin’s lung capacity was well-known by everyone in the building.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat. “You know, if it’s physical contact that you need to sleep– Nevermind. How are the pancakes?”

Whether it was to save your or his dignity, you chose to ignore his first comment and answered only the last question, “Their colour is nicer than usual. I like the golden colour.”

“I guess the free range eggs really do make a difference,” Seokmin mused with a chuckle. When you offered him a surprised look, he hummed in confusion. “What?”

“You bought free range eggs? Didn’t you say they were too expensive last time?”

He shrugged. “I figured I might as well try to make some more ethical choices while shopping. Besides, you recommended them–”

Your eyes welled up a little. “You bought more expensive eggs because I recommended them?”

“And because I care for animals,” he added in a little too fast. 

You laughed and nodded. “For the animals, right. Me too.”

“Do you ever rest from your work?” he wondered after a moment. “What do you do outside of it?”

“I… don’t know. I read. I like to clean.”

“But what about going to festivals? Swimming? Cycling? Dancing?” He grew more and more desperate as you rejected every hobby he offered. “No wonder you’re so tired all of the time! You’re a workaholic.”

You snorted. “Sunny did say I’m similar to Jihoon.”

“I didn’t think it was this bad.”

“I think he’s worse though.”

“Oh, definitely, but he doesn’t go to sleep in his neighbours’ beds,” Seokmin pointed out with a look of worry. As he watched you for an exactly uncomfortable amount of time, his eyes eventually lit up again. “I have an idea. What are you doing tomorrow evening?”

“Working–”

“I swear if I hear that word one more time, I will scream.”

You, once again, promptly shut up. 

“Great,” he beamed and clapped his hands together, “I’ll text you to details later.”

“You’re not even going to tell me what we’re doing?”

You sighed in disappointment as he smiled brightly and shook his head ‘no’. 

A knock on your door notified you of his arrival. Despite being sure it wasn’t meant to be a date and knowing that Seokmin had seen you in far worse condition, you still took a deep breath and gave yourself a quick once-over at the mirror.

When you opened the door, he smiled at you brightly. “I see you’ve dressed up too.”

“I would hardly call this dressed up,” you told him rather sheepishly, suddenly even more aware of you appearance. “You look very dapper as well.”

“Yep, and do you want to know why?” 

“Why?”

His smile widened so much you worried for his cheeks. “Because you and I are going to the theatre.”

“The theatre?” You paled at the mention and looked down at your outfit. “I feel like I’m underdressed then.”

“You look fine,” he laughed and grabbed your hand. “Let’s go or we’ll be late. And trust me,” he widened his eyes for dramatic effect, “you don’t want to be late.”

You gave in begrudgingly and locked the door as fast as you could while he practically bounced at your side in excitement. 

“What are we going to watch then?” you finally remembered to ask when you entered the theatre less than 15 minutes later. “I swear, if you dragged me here to watch an opera–”

“It’s a musical, actually,” he admitted bashfully. “I love musicals and I don’t know much about other theatre performances so I thought– But if you don’t like musicals, that’s–”

“I don’t mind musicals,” you told him with a little laugh and pat on his shoulder. “But I have to admit, it has been ages since my last time at the theatre, and I haven’t seen a musical in a few years at least.”

“That’s fine. I’ll guide you through it.” And as if the last shy bone had left his body, he grabbed your hand and led you to your seats, all the while widely smiling at you and giving your hand periodical squeezes of encouragement. 

His hand never left yours for the duration of the musical, not even for intermission, not even when he ordered cake from the theatre café to hold you over until after the show. His hand remained warm in yours, fingers squeezing a little tighter every once in a while, his thumb running over the back of your hand. 

It was so warm, so comforting. Just his presence alone was enough to make you dizzy with the feeling of safety and happiness. His touch? You were floating on cloud 9 with zero regard for what was going on below – or on the stage, for that matter.

Frankly, you could barely remember to watch the musical because you were so busy marvelling at the feel of his hand in yours. 

“That was so good,” he excitedly told you as the two of you returned to your apartment. “The music was phenomenal.”

“The actors were very good.” And that was the only contribution you could make to the conversation because you definitely hadn’t paid any attention to the plot and your knowledge of music was simply not there.

But thankfully, that seemed to be far more than enough. His eyes gleamed as he sat onto your sofa and gestured widely while speaking, “Right? The leading woman was just– Incredible, fantastic. Her range! I’m a little jealous, actually.”

You took the seat next to him. To your surprise, his hand found yours once again, wasting no time in interlocking your fingers. And just like that, paying attention to anything else became difficult. 

Were you really developing a crush on him? Just like that? You refused. You were too busy to be pining after a man. 

But when slid closer to your side and looked at you like you were the most wonderful person to ever exist, you suddenly didn’t care about the lack of time. Screw it. You’d make time if it meant you got to see his star-filled eyes again. 

“... Sorry, what?” you coughed out when he paused and looked at you expectantly.

He laughed. “You’re so cute. I asked if you wanted to go see another musical with me someday.”

“I’d love to,” you blurted out without thinking. 

Yeah. Screw deadlines. 

“Okay, perfect!” His smile brightened up the entire room as he rested his head on your shoulder. “Because I heard they’re doing Excalibur next season and I desperately need a friend to go watch it with me. I saw the premise and heard a preview of one of the songs and they’re holding auditions next month and I am already obsessed–”

Your brain was barely functioning at all, and yet you could recall one single memory from the depths of it. A dream he had shared. “Then why don’t you audition?”

He sat up abruptly, looking at you as if you were insane. “I couldn’t possibly–”

“Why not?” you asked. “I heard you singing the other day. You’re really good. I think you could get any part pretty easily.”

His ears turned more red with every word you said. “You flatter me…”

“I’m serious, Seokmin!”

“I’m not that good. And I have zero acting experience, aside from a few courses I did in college. Why would they ever pick me?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” you countered and he scoffed.

“I can think of a few–”

“You never know if you don’t try,” you told him and raised your hand to brush a stray hair off his forehead. “I’m rooting for you.”

As your words faded into the night and your eyes met, you wondered if he could feel the sparks flying and bursting all around you as well. Did he also feel that overwhelming adoration for you? 

He sighed after a while, a bashful smile on his face. “You must be tired. It’s been a long night. Go to sleep.”

“I really should,” you yawned as if on cue. You shared a laugh at the timing.

He squeezed your hand one last time. “Well, good night then. I expect I’ll find you at my apartment in the morning–”

“Or you could stay here and we don’t have to worry about that,” you blurted without thinking. Your face flashed hot right after. 

Had there been any alcohol in that cake he bought for you? Why were you feeling so bold all of a sudden? 

“I–” He seemed speechless.

“I don’t know why I said that,” you rushed out and avoided his eyes. “I think I’m just really tired and work has been stressful and maybe my brain is just broke–”

He placed his hand behind your neck and led your head to rest against his chest as he rubbed comforting circles on your back. You could hear his body rumble with laughter as he held you. “I’d love to stay over. Besides,” he pushed you away just enough to look you in the eyes again, “I think it’s only fair that I get to sleep over this once, because you sleep over at my place a lot.”

You frowned and pouted. “It’s not like I mean to–”

“A lot,” he repeated with wide eyes and a teasing smile before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “But it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

When you recounted the half-embarrassing and yet half-lovestruck happenings of the previous night to Sunny on the way back from work, she stared at you in bafflement.

“You actually asked him to sleep over?” she gasped, hand over her heart as if she was a peasant woman of the 16th century hearing the most scandalous gossip. “You little vixen!”

“Nothing happened,” you insistently told her as the two of you stepped off the bus.

She huffed. “That’s honestly so boring. I mean, have you seen that man? What I wouldn’t give to–”

“I am once again reminding you that you already have a boyfriend.”

“You don’t know what we’re into in the bedroom,” she countered with a smirk.

You only now realised how much Jeonghan was rubbing off on her. She was becoming a second him, slowly but surely. Couple of the year.

“I’m taking away your friend privileges, Sunny,” you told her at that and rushed ahead to avoid hearing any more weirdly Jeonghan-like jokes from her. 

She laughed at that before running after you. “Okay, okay, no more dirty jokes.”

“Thank god,” you sighed towards the sky.

“So, did any sleepwalking occur?” she then asked before humming in thought. “Well, I imagine if it had, I would’ve heard about it by now. It would’ve been quite a sight to see Seokmin running after an asleep you towards his apartment at 2 am.���

“I didn’t sleepwalk.” 

And frankly, if you had, Seokmin must have done a very good job of getting you back to your own bed because you woke up exactly how and where you fell asleep – wrapped in his arms, head resting in the crook of his neck. 

Sunny suddenly stopped in spot. Her eyes wide, her lips parted. She pointed an accusatory finger at you, “Wait, does that mean you two are dating now?”

You weren’t sure you had the answer. And you wouldn’t have time to find the answer for a while.

“Good morning!” you heard Seokmin’s voice before you even opened your eyes.

Unlike the previous few times, disappointment filled you as realisation hit. You groaned and turned over to bury your face in his numerous pillows, hoping you could suffocate yourself out of a mildly infuriating nightmare.

Seokmin clicked his tongue. “Not quite the greeting I was expecting, especially considering I was greeted with a hug the last time we shared a bed.”

“Shut it.”

“Oh, you’re mean today.”

“Did I fall asleep mid-work again?” you sighed and slowly sat up to glare at nothing in particular. Seokmin went to great lengths to avoid whatever direction to directed your deadly look to. “God, I bet I didn’t even make it to the second graph– I’m not gonna have time to go to the office for work today.”

He stared at you curiously. “So, work from home? I mean, if you have the possibility.”

“Yeah, but then I’ll get distracted and then I still won’t end up doing anything,” you whined before falling back into the pillows. You wanted to cry just at the thought of that stupid report waiting on your idle laptop. 

“Why are you so stressed about this report anyway? I don’t think you were ever this upset over any other reports.”

“If this project report goes through, and we pull off this project – which I still have to plan, oh my god, I am so far behind–”

Seokmin laughed at your frantic movements and moved over to place his hands on your shoulders and keep you still. “Hey, hey, don’t get distracted. If the project goes through…?”

You took a deep breath. “If the project goes well, I will get a promotion. Less hours, better pay.” You sighed. “Then maybe I’ll be able to get a dog like I’ve always wanted.”

“That sounds wonderful! We should celebrate with breakfast,” he suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

But as tempting as it sounded, you simply didn’t have any time to chat. You had work to do. And so, you stood up, fixed your hair, gave Seokmin an affectionate yet half-hearted pat on the back and headed for the door. 

You couldn’t wait to spend your day in complete lonely misery. At work you at least had friends to talk between sections. All you had in your apartment was Bertha and instant coffee.

And it was as if Seokmin knew it just from the way you spoke to him that morning. 

When the clock struck twelve, you heard a timid knock on your door. Confused at the noise and a little disoriented from the five pages of words you had written, you stood up and went to the door. 

Your heart grew three sizes when you saw him standing there, looking so awfully huggable in his large white hoodie and grey sweatpants, glasses on his nose accompanied by a kind smile. You were so surprised to find him there that you failed to consider why he came. 

He had to nudge you with the plastic bag he was holding for you to even notice it.

“Sorry,” you stammered and stepped aside to let him in, “I’m just a little-”

“Stress? Overworked? Confused because you’ve been staring at a 15-inch screen for the past three hours?” he suggested and brought the bag to the kitchen. “That’s okay. Don’t even mind me.” He smiled as he nodded towards your laptop. “Go on. Work waits. The sooner you get to it, the sooner it’ll be done.”

Disoriented as you were, you didn’t dare argue and slowly walked back to your previous seat at the coffee table, all the while watching him cautiously. 

As your fingers landed on the keyboard, he began lifting things out of the bag. You watched in awe as he stacked snacks and vegetables onto the counter. 

Feeling your eyes on him, he lifted his head to glare at you. “Work.”

“Work,” you repeated on instinct and turned back to your laptop. He laughed a little at your robotic tone. 

Some 20 minutes later, you felt a presence next to you. When you turned to face it, Seokmin was holding an fruit slice up at your lips. 

“Eat,” he told you softly. You did as told.

“What are you doing?” you asked between confused laughter and chewing. Your eyes landed on the bowl of fruits he had placed in front of you. 

He shrugged. “Taking care of you. You seemed so upset this morning… I thought it would be nice to spend my free day helping you.”

Your eyes widened. “It’s your free day? And you’re here? You should be resting!”

“Watching you is all the rest I need,” he winked playfully before lifting another fruit to your lips. “Now, eat up. This is lunch. I’ll make something better for dinner.”

“You don’t have to–” 

He took this chance to shove a piece of apple into your mouth, effectively interrupting your speech. “I will, and I don’t care what you say.”

He glanced around the apartment as you began to eat the fruits on your own. “When was the last time you opened a window?”

You watched curiously as he stood up (with a groan because his bones simply weren’t as nimble as they used to be) and headed over to the windows, opening a few to air out the room. As he did so, he told you, “They say that good airflow and fresh air help the thought process. We air out the classrooms between every lesson so the next students won’t get too tired.”

“I don’t think I’ve opened any windows in here since I first moved in,” you confessed before turning back to your laptop. Before you could your train of thought again, a soft fabric was placed on your shoulders. You looked up to find him smiling at you brightly. “So you won’t get cold.”

“What about you then?”

He shrugged and winked. “I’ll just consider this my daily walk in the park.” He then looked around the apartment again, as if looking for something to do. You couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“Maybe… you could… make me a cup of tea?” you suggested.

He lit up at the idea. “Coming right up!”

Before heading to the kitchen, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. It seemed almost like a reflex – like he didn’t even need to think about doing it. 

Relishing in the leftover warmth of his lips and the feel of his hoodie on your skin, your work took a backseat for a while. Instead of thinking about your project of a lifetime, your brain was drowning in one singular question. You glanced towards the kitchen to watch him, a smile appearing on your face as you did. 

“Seokmin?” you called out softly after a moment. 

He hummed in response immediately, eyes lifting from the cup he was preparing so he could offer you an encouraging smile. 

You took a deep breath. “What are we?”

He paused. “What do you mean?”

“You and I. What are we to each other?” you wondered, unable to look away from him. There was something you badly wanted to hear him say and yet feared at the same time. “What are you to me?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “I… I’ll be whatever you’d like me to be.”

“Whatever? A friend?”

“If that’s what you wish,” he breathed out, a little shakier than before.

“What about a lover?”

He smiled. “If you so wish.”

“Then… what do you want me to be?” you asked him quietly, a part of you praying your words would go missing in the incoming wind before they reached him. 

“I just…” He bit his lip in contemplation, ears turning red, and avoided your eyes.

“What do you want me to be to you, Seokmin?” you repeated your question, a little bolder this time, hope sparking in your heart.

He looked up again, into your eyes. “Mine.” You let out a breath – of relief or fear, you weren’t sure – but he didn’t hesitate when he repeated, “I want you to be mine.”

You felt guilty for the words you’d utter next. “But we don’t have the time for that…”

“That’s okay,” he assured you with a kind smile. “We’ll take it slow.”

“Slow? How slow do we take it?”

“As slow as you need. I’m not leaving.”

“I signed up for the auditions,” he told you over breakfast a few days later. “Jihoon’s helping me prepare.”

You were still neck-deep in your project, struggling to meet the deadlines and coordinate your team. This seemed to lead the asleep you to Seokmin’s apartment more often than not. It was almost like you woke up in his bed every morning now. 

But even in your despair, you couldn’t help but be excited for Seokmin.

Your eyes lit up and a squeal came out as you grabbed his hand over the table. “Really? You did?!”

He used his free hand to rub the back of his neck bashfully. “Well, you said I should give it a try, right? Who knows,” he shrugged, trying his best to seem nonchalant or even fake a little bit of confidence, “maybe they’ll give me a part.”

“I’m sure they will,” you insisted, squeezing his hand. “Your voice is amazing and you’re so handsome – the ladies are going to swoon when they see you on the stage.”

He laughed. “Will you be one of those ladies?”

“I’ll be in the front row,” you solemnly promised. “At every show. You’ll get sick of seeing me.”

“I could never,” he assured you.

Seokmin’s audition would take place two weeks later. You made sure the mark the day with a big red circle on your calendar – on all three of them, in fact. And now it was time.

Between your seemingly endless stream of project complications and Seokmin’s daytime job and audition preparations, you barely saw him. If it weren’t for your persistent sleepwalking problem, you wouldn’t have seen him at all. And so, the curse had became a blessing. 

“You’ll do great,” you assured him minutes after waking up in his bed. You made sure to give him the warmest hug before letting him leave the room. “I believe in you. And so does Jihoon, apparently.”

Seokmin pouted. “Did he say that or are you lying to make me feel better?”

“We talked yesterday,” you told him, appalled that he’d even accuse you of such atrocities. “He said he has complete faith that you’ll do well.”

“I don’t believe you but–”

“Do you want to fight me? Already?” You raised a brow and he shook his head immediately. “Exactly. Just accept the compliment. And don’t forget to call me when you finish, okay?”

“Of course,” he promised.

He kept that promise. Just as he stepped out of the theatre, his shaky hands picked up the phone and chose your number. 

You answered the call with prep in your voice. It had been a good day so far and you were expecting to hear his no-doubt joyous retellings of the audition.

What you weren’t expecting was: “Can you come get me? I think I might cry.”

“Why, why?” Despite your words, you didn’t hesitate to slam your laptop closed and grab your jacket. “Are you okay? Were they mean?”

“They weren’t mean,” he mumbled on the other side of the line, “but I don’t think I did well.”

“I’m sure you did wonderful,” you spoke while rushing down the street. Thankfully, the theatre was barely a five-minute walk from your office – half that at your current pace. “You’re just putting yourself down over nothing.”

Seokmin whined. “You’re seriously overestimating me.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“No, I’m serious. You overestimate me.”

As you crossed the street, you noticed a familiar figure dragging his feet along the pavement, head low and shoulders slumped. “Now why would I do that?”

“Because you like me a little more than you should,” he suggested while kicking a pebble. You could already hear his voice even without the phone. “I’m sure the directors think I’m a joke or something. God, I am so–”

“Don’t you dare say another bad word about yourself,” you scolded him with a gentle slap against the back of his head. 

He stared at you in bewilderment – both from the fact that you might as well have appeared from thin air and the fact that you just did that. 

But you were unrelenting in your affection for him. “Lee Seokmin, listen to me: you did absolutely great. You did your best. And even if you don’t get a part this time, they’ll value the fact that you now have experience with auditions. Take it in stride.”

Tears gathered in his eyes. Before long, he pulled you into his embrace, holding you impossibly tight. “You’re just saying that… Thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for, silly,” you laughed and hugged him back just as tightly. “I think we should celebrate this occasion.”

“Even if I screwed up and don’t get the part?”

You scoffed. “Absolutely! A little cake can make everything better, no?”

He sighed. “I don’t think I can eat right now. I might throw up from the nerves.”

“Drink then?”

He contemplated and then straightened up. “I could go for some bubble tea…”

“There we go!” you cheered and gently pinched his cheeks, prompting a small giggle. “My treat because you did so well today and I’m so proud of you.”

This time it was you who grabbed his hand without any hesitation, more than happy to reassuringly squeeze it as you walked and talked. 

“When will you get the answer?” you wondered.

He sucked in a breath. “In about a week, they said. Or maybe never–”

“Seokmin,” you scolded.

“In a week,” he corrected himself with some enthusiasm. “I’ll get answers in a week. And then I might actually cry.”

“And I’ll be there when you cry tears of joy, darling.”

“Tears of joy?” He raised a brow and smiled in disbelief. “You seriously put too much faith in me.”

You nudged his side. “As if you haven’t been equally supportive about my promotion.”

“Oh, right,” Seokmin gasped, “won’t your promotion interview be in a week too?”

You would’ve preferred he didn’t remind you. Then again, you guessed it was only fair. 

“Will you come over to hold me when I cry too?”

“Tears of joy?” he teased and leaned over to kiss your temple. “I’ll be just a call away.”

The week somehow passed at both the pace of a snail and the pace of Junhui on a sugar rush. 

After finding you in his bed every single morning, Seokmin resorted to just sleeping over at your place, tightly cuddling you to keep you in place. He now had a whole drawer dedicated to his things in your bedroom. 

The day started okay. You were awoken not by a loud alarm like you had expected, but by Seokmin gently singing you awake. 

For a moment, you thought you had died and gone straight to heaven – maybe working so hard to save the environment had paid off after all, you thought. But no, it was just your reality. 

What a beautiful reality. You couldn’t help but smile as you cuddled into his chest.

“If you keep clinging onto me like that, I won’t be able to make my famous waffles for a lucky breakfast,” he whispered but made no attempt to push you away. 

The delicious breakfast was followed by an encouraging hug on the way out of the building, him to the school and you to the office. You wore a smile the entire time.

Up until you made it to your desk. Then the reality began sinking in. 

This was the day that could make or break your career. The day you had worked so hard for that you neglected your private life for so many years.

As the clock on the wall slowly ticked forward, your hands began to shake. Your throat was dry. Your head was fuzzy, full of nothing but anxiety. If someone had asked you about anything, you would’ve only been able to stare at them with a mouth wide open.

20 minutes until your scheduled interview. You were starting to feel sick. 

When another colleague came to give you a supportive pat on the back, you excused yourself and grabbed your phone to rush outside to the balcony. You sat on a chair and willed yourself to take deep breaths as you tapped on his number.

You wanted to slap yourself when you realised that you hadn’t even bothered to check if he was on break yet.

But he answered on the first ring. “Hey, what’s up? Did you have the interview alread–”

“Seokmin, I can’t do this,” you whimpered into the microphone. “I can’t do this. They’re gonna realise I’m an idiot and they’ll fire me and–”

“Woah, woah, what happened to your positive can-do attitude?” he wondered. “You’ll be fine.”

“No–”

“(Y/n),” he said your voice so firmly that your breath got caught in your throat. “(Y/n), you will be fine. You’ve worked there for so many years, you’ve achieved so many things. If they wanted to fire you, they would’ve done that by now.”

You took a shaky breath. “What if it’s an elaborate prank?”

“Why would– Baby, listen to me. You’ve worked hard. You put everything you had into that project – I was there, I saw it. You and your ideas are invaluable to your company. They’re going to ask you a few questions as a formality and they’re going to give that promotion and then you and I are going to go to a celebratory dinner and it’ll all be over.”

“And I can get a dog?” you whispered, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“You can get two dogs if you want, baby,” he laughed. “You deserve it. Don’t underestimate yourself. I believe in you and I’m sure your co-workers do as well.”

“How do you always know the right words to say?”

He laughed once again. “Baby, I’m a teacher. I’m literally trained to comfort people. I’m just glad I’m able to comfort you as well.”

“Thank you.”

“No need,” he responded, “just go and ace that interview. Okay?”

“And then you’ll come and wipe my happy tears?”

“You already know the answer to that question. But I expect the same treatment when I get my audition results.”

“Will do.”

“Go and get them, tiger.”

You weren’t sure what it was, but something about the conversation seemed to have lifted the weight off your shoulders. When you walked back to the office, the upcoming interview no longer felt as taunting. 

As the clock hit 2 pm, you squared your shoulders, took a deep breath and headed to your manager’s office.

When the day ended, you found Seokmin standing in front of the office building, a blinding smile on his face. 

“Well?” he asked expectantly, though the look in his eyes said that he had every faith that you would only give him good news. You were glad to prove him right. 

Your coy smile was replaced with joyous laughter as you ran to hug him and called out, “I got the job!”

“You got it? You got it!” he cheered with you, jumping up and down with you in his arms, not far from spinning you around in the air. “I knew you would! What did I tell you? Silly you,” he let you out of his hold to place his hands on your cheeks and pull your face closer to his own, “you thought you wouldn’t get the promotion. Look at you now. I’m so proud of you.”

You breathed out in relief. The smile seemed to never stop tugging on your cheeks. “I’m so relieved I could cry.”

“Then who will dry my happy tears?” he teased with a bright smile.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Wait–”

“I got the part,” he whispered, his smile only growing wider, eyes sparkling. “I’m going to become a musical actor, officially.”

“Oh my god!” you practically squealed and now it was your turn to hug him and jump. He was glad to join you, laughing in glee. “I knew you could do it! I knew it!”

As joy got the best of you – and who could blame you: this was the happiest day of your life so far –, you grabbed his face and pulled him closer to you to press your lips against his own. He melted into the gesture, arms wrapping around you tighter as if to will the moment to last forever. 

When you pulled back, just enough so that your noses touched, he laughed in disbelief. “I thought we were supposed to take it slow?”

“Screw taking it slow,” you whispered and kissed him again. “Might as well make it a triple celebration.”

“I like the sound of that.”

BONUS !

While practically leaning out of their open window to watch you and Seokmin kiss under the streetlights on your way home, Jeonghan and Sunny argued.

“I told you they would get together,” Sunny declared, her eyebrows raised as if to dare her boyfriend to prove her wrong. 

Jeonghan scoffed. “Please. They’re just kissing. It could be casual.”

“Just say you don’t want to owe me 20 bucks.”

“I don’t owe you 20 bucks! We have no confirmation!”

“Jeonghan, listen here–”

“No, no, you listen–”

“Both of you listen here!” Chan bellowed from the window above them. “If you don’t stop arguing right now, I will report you both to Jihoon’s parents! Some of us are trying to sleep!” Silence followed. “And pay her the 20 bucks, Jeonghan. They’re clearly together.”

Jeonghan grumbled and glared upwards before fishing a 20 out of his pocket and handing it to his smiling girlfriend.

[familyvideostevie]

october second

day two: remus lupin you and remus make soup on a fall day | fluff, a bit suggestive | 1.1k

Sometimes the best days of your life are the most simple ones. Today is one of those days.

It’s barely fall but you’re in the mood. You’ve swapped out your flowered dish towels for ones with bright leaves on them, put out the tiny ghost figurines you bought last year, and you’ve packed away your sundresses in bins under your bed. The windows are open to let in the cool air and you’re standing in front of your fridge in a sweater that’s almost certainly too ragged to wear for another season.

The front door to your place opens and you hear your boyfriend’s keys rattle. “Anyone home?” Remus calls.

“Kitchen!” you call back. You think he laughs but you’re not sure. You’re too focused on how you have…nothing resembling a meal in your fridge.

“You look troubled, darling.” Remus leans on the door frame, arms crossed as he smiles softly at you. “Did the milk do something to offend you?”

You sigh. “I can’t figure out what to cook for dinner,” you say. “I don’t know if I’ve got the right things for what I planned to feed you.” Remus often cooks but you’ve been trying to improve your skill and had claimed tonight as one of your nights.

He shoves off the jamb and makes his way to you. You tilt your cheek up and he brushes his lips against it. Before standing behind you, hand on your hip. “Hm,” he says. “Do you want me to go to the shop? I can. I would’ve if you’d told me before.”

“Well, I didn’t know I’d run into this problem, before,” you retort. He chuckles and you lean back into his chest. Remus is one of the most sure things in your life — yes, that’s his personality, but also he makes an effort to be so for you. And you for him. He is good at soothing your anxieties about things going wrong, about problems and your own fears of all the unpredictable things about life. You, in turn, remind him to slow down, to take moments for himself, to ask for what he wants even if it puts you out. (It never puts you out.)

So, sure, a thwarted dinner is something you can handle together.

“Hang on,” Remus says. He shuts the fridge door and moves away from you, one large palm dragging across your shoulder so he can keep touching you as he looks in one of your cabinets. “Just as I thought,” he says.

“What?”

He grins your favorite grin, the one that makes him look boyish and unburdened. “You’ve got everything we need to make Potter soup.”

“Excuse me?” you sputter. Remus laughs and starts to pull things from the cabinet.

“James’s mum has a really great dish thats basically potato curry but better,” he says. “And I’m good at it because she likes me best and taught me how.”

“I’ll be he loves that,” you say. He grins at you again.

“You should have seen his face when she asked me to help make it over the school holidays when we were 17.”

Remus regales you with stories of boyhood shenanigans as he instructs you on how to help him cook. You chop vegetables, simmer water, gather spices. He’s patient when you’re quite slow at peeling the potatoes and plants a kiss on your temple every time he moves around you. You turn on the radio and try to no avail to get him to dance with you, though he laughs.

“You’re a marvel,” he says once the soup is simmering. The kitchen is warmer than it was, the stove and your efforts heating it up despite the now-evening chill coming in through the open window. You hop up onto the kitchen island and he steps between your legs.

“I slowed you down,” you say. He shakes his head.

“No one has ever had a sous-chef as gorgeous as you,” he says. His palms stroke up and down the soft material of your pants. You brush some hair from his forehead and trace your favorite of his scars down through his brow and across his cheek.

“You know,” you say, dragging out the words. “You didn’t kiss me proper when you came in.”

Remus raises his eyebrows at you. Really? his eyes say. “You were a bit busy being cross at the refrigerator, darling.”

“Excuses, Lupin,” you say primly.

“Lupin?” he scoffs. “Wow, I see how it is.” His hands wander up to your hips and he tugs a little, pulling you forward on the counter. You swallow a yelp.

“And how is that?” you say softly. Remus trails his fingers up your sides, making you squirm, before curling them around either side of your jaw.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Your boyfriend is often considered the calm one compared to his friends. He keeps them in check, he’s levelheaded, he’s mature. But he’s also a flirty shit when he wants to be. Like right now, it seems.

“Don’t tease,” you whisper. Remus relents, leaning in to kiss you soundly. It’s the kind of hello kiss you’d expected when he came home, the kind he gives you in public. A firm press of his lips, thumbs stroking the soft skin of your cheeks. And then it turns into something else. You hook your ankles around him and pull him even closer as he licks into your mouth with a moan that could have come from either of you.

He kisses you deeper, pulling away only to get a different angle, to press a finger to your pulse point to feel your heart go wild. It’s so cliche, making out in the kitchen after you’ve cooked together, but you love it. You love him.

You don’t know how long passes but when the timer goes off you have to push him away. His lips are swollen and slick, hair a riot, eyes bright despite their blown pupils. “Well,” he says. “You look a bit disheveled.”

You smack his shoulder. “Speak for yourself.” He backs up and you hop down from the counter to check the soup. “Does this look right?

Remus follows you, hands petting down his hair, and nods. “We made a bit much, didn’t we?”

You hum. “We could call everyone to come over,” you suggest.

He laughs. “We just snogged in the kitchen for who knows how long and now you want to invite all of our friends over for dinner? Are you sure you don’t want…something else?” His hand drags up and down your spine.

You shiver and then your stomach rumbles. “I’m hungry,” you say. “You can be filthy later.”

His expression says who, me?

“Plus I want to see James’s face when he realizes someone else can make this better than he can.”

Remus laughs and heads for the phone.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23