#maybe a good thing i didn't get into that graduate school because i probably would have faked my death and taken on a new identity

[yellowocaballero]

rip to you for the COVID hope you feel better soon! and I hope you have fun playing the Sims! ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ🌻🪻🌸💜

Thank you so much that's very sweet!! I was so pissed off about it. I went FOUR YEARS without getting COVID and I was finally hit by the dodgeball like TEN DAYS before my trip. But I'm up to date on my vaccines and I felt mostly fine. Vaccines lose their efficacy after 6 months, my recent vaccine saved my ass, please check to see when your latest vaccine was.

Unfortunately I continued to be dead (Sims, writing obsessively again, preparing for my trip) and I will continue to be dead (I am going to be in Hawai'i for a week). I need to tweak some things about the chapter so I'm going to wait until I have time to do so before I post it. I try not to be on my computer a lot during my vacations, so it might take a minute.

Since I graduated college, I pretty much have a habit of feeling an insane need to flee once every three or four months, and I call up a friend who lives Wherever and take a trip to hang out with them (internet friends, 80% of the time - love you guys!). But I guess my Big Move six months ago satisfied my need for novelty, because I've only travelled once since then to visit my mother on Thanksgiving. Objectively feels weird to only take one trip in six months, so I'm happy that I'm taking two this month. Hawai'i is going to be extremely good because I have not Seen A Tree In The Wild for six months (it's either city trees or...corn......there's no fulfillment in corn....) and it's probably doing weird things to my psyche.

What the fuck do you do during a ten hour plane flight? Hopefully the Sims? What happens? Insane.

[roosterforme]

Okay, but how about the first time Jake and Darling have a fight? How would that go?

I really like your stories bc while it is fiction, I feel like you show every aspect of a relationship, not only the good parts.

🩷

OMG, nonny. I'm swooning. I try to make my stories realistic (as much as they can be for fanfic). Nobody is happy and confident all the time. Everyone is stressed about something. Relationships are hard work, and dealing with someone else is sometimes weird and annoying. So thank you, I appreciate that so much.

Jake and Darlin' argue all the time about all the small things in life. They have different opinions on a lot of things, but it's never usually anything they remember by the next day. I think their first big fight would happen shortly after she moves in with him, just after she graduates from school and starts her new job. (angsty below).

"I had the longest day at work," you muttered, shoveling the last bite of the dinner Jake made into your mouth. You set your fork down and stretched as you stood. This whole week was dragging. You realized you were probably complaining more than usual, but you were just over it. "Let's go take a bath and just go to bed. I'll clean up tomorrow morning."

Jake looked at you, his lips pressed into a firm line. "Go ahead. I'll clean it up."

You reached for his hand, but he was already stacking the plates. "You cooked. I don't want you to clean up. I'll do it later," you reiterated.

"Just go get in the bath," he snapped, carrying everything back to the kitchen.

"I don't want to take a bath without you!"

Jake dumped everything into the sink and spun around. "You're not the only one who's working full-time, but you're certainly acting like it."

With narrowed eyes, you asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Jake took a deep, practiced breath and let it out slowly. "I know you're tired, but it would be nice for you to acknowledge that I work longer hours than you do. So just go relax in the bath by yourself while I clean up."

"Well, now I don't want to!" You were suddenly so angry, you couldn't see straight, and you also wanted to cry. "You're treating me like a child!"

"You're acting like one."

His words hurt you more than a slap across your cheek would have, and your jaw dropped open. But then his next sentence made it even worse.

"In my house no less."

"Wow," you gasped, turning and running toward the bedroom as you started crying. It wasn't like you weren't paying to be here. You knew it wasn't much, but you had been insistant about giving Jake five hundred dollars per month. And for what? So he could act like you were an unwanted guest?

You ran into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before you curled up on the tub mat on the floor and sobbed. Work wasn't like school. Trying to figure out how you fit in with your coworkers was exhausting, and you were still learning all the ropes. You drove back here every day mentally drained, and up until tonight, Jake was always the one who seemed willing to listen. You should have just cleaned up the kitchen, because now you felt like you didn't belong anywhere.

"Darlin'." Jake's voice was as sharp as his knock on the door. You tried to dry your tears, but it wasn't working, and maybe you really were a child compared to your boyfriend. "Darlin'!"

"It's not even locked!" you shouted, but it came out as weak as you felt. Jake opened the door, and in an instant, he was curled up on the floor with you, pulling you into his arms.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I acted like an asshole." You tried to wriggle away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "I think I'm more exhausted this week than I'd like to admit, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

In spite of the fact that you were on the floor crying, you mustered up the courage to whisper, "I'm not a child."

"You're an adult," he said firmly. "An adult who just started a very impressive job. You're holding it together better than I did when I was in flight school." He kissed your forehead. "And you're absolutely right. We should have just climbed in our bathtub and then gone right to our bed. The fucking dishes do not matter right now. They can sit in our kitchen sink until whenever the fuck we feel like cleaning up."

Jake rubbed slow, soothing circles against your lower back until you were all cried out. If you thought you were tired before, it was nothing compared to how wrung out you felt now. You wanted to put forth a peace offering and just get up and clean the kitchen, but his lips were on your damp cheek and his voice was in your ear. "I love you, Darlin'. It has been a long week for both of us. I would like nothing more than to climb in a hot bath with you, relax until the water gets cold, and then get in our bed and go to sleep."

You nodded and started the water while he got two towels ready, and then both of you undressed. Jake kissed your bare shoulder and held you while the tub filled. "You belong here," he whispered. "I don't want you anywhere other than our house."

[silvershiningtarot]

🔆PAC: What does Your Future Life look like? 💏🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🌹(Mood Board) 🕯

Paid Readings

Disclaimer: This is about what your future life looks like in the future. This is what kind of success you going to have in your life. I feel that this will motivate you guys to do so. Please reblog and comment on my successful reading. I got these pictures on Pinterest

🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾🧑🏾‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏾

Pile 1: I'm seeing your future life being successful. I see you buying your dream house. Should I say your dream home? Something you've been wanting your whole life since you were dreaming about since you were a young child. I am seeing crying because you've got your home life. In the future. I see that you are fucking feeling proud of yourself. You'll be treating yourself so beautifully. I see a lot of self-care and self-love. Wow 😮 I see you so motivated to get your dream life together. You are going to make the future your fairytale. If that makes sense. It is like Cinderella who found her prince charming but you've done it. I noticed that you'll be designing your house. Maybe, I am seeing a pink or gold-ish kind of house. I do see stairs if you guys like pink then that's what I'm seeing but white too. So I feel that you'll be going out a lot. Like outside of your house. I think that you'll own your house. I don't see you renting it. This is your house. I heard “college” maybe, some of you probably going back to school in the future. But if you look at the mood board this what you're future looks like to me.

🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽

Pile 2: I can see that your future looks like you are going to be focusing on your love life. Maybe, some of you might be into the medical field, or some type of career you wanna be doing for yourself. But I do see you being in a relationship as well😌. I see a lot of support for your future. I heard “lawyer.” maybe, some of you want to be a lawyer or something you've been yearning for. But I can see it happening for you. Amazing isn't it? I can see you being happy. But I noticed that you might be a bit little unsatisfied with certain things in your life. I don't know what it is but it is something. Maybe, you might go through some type of disappointment. I feel that you might be going through something you've been wanting but it didn't happen the way you wanted it to but you will get it. Maybe, it is some kind of doubt. That's why I'm feeling doubt. I feel like you'll meet your husband in your early 20s or late 20s. Your husband is gonna help you with something you thought never could happen but it did. I Would say that your husband is your good luck charm. But you'll be feeling motivated and you are going to be working up to speed. Oh yeah, Maybe, a few of you will go to college or are already in school and I feel that you'll pass something. Truly, feel that you'll pass as to where you are going to graduate! Woo 😯 it is going to be a big ass celebration. I'm proud of you guys 🕯💋🙌🏽. I'm feeling all the luck 🐎 here for this pile. Yes, a lot of good 🌟 news, and luck is going to keep coming your way.

🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺🌹🌺

Pile 3: Okay, your future looks like that you'll be fucking successful. I think that you are a come-up. What I mean by that is starting your career in music, modeling, acting, or being part of some kind of industry but you are going to be successful in it. I'm feeling it. I feel a big ass change is going to happen for you. But it is like that saying “If you want it, you gotta go get it.” that's what I'm feeling like that. You'll feel so happy that you've been manifesting the future dream you've been wanting for yourself. Wow! I keep hearing “Success, SUCCESS, SUCCESS!” so in the future 📡 some kind of success is coming your way. You are going to grab it. Whatever you set your mind to. You are going to take it. Yes, I feel that you will be feeling regret or thinking that you don't deserve it but you have to say FUCK IT! I feel that once you have that motivation in yourself and say “Fuck It.” you are going to take it. But I sense that you might settle down quickly. I mean quickly. You would want a family or at least a yearning for a family. Maybe, some of you right now have a list of what you dreamt about your family looking like. Few of you might be workaholics and some of you will be settling down. You might have a baby 👶 in your mid-career. But I have a sense that your partner will take care of it while you are working. I'm seeing you crying because you'll be missing home. Aww, I'm sorry. But I see that you are fighting for this position in this industry. I feel that you might work in some K-pop industry or at least meet them or should I say work with them. I heard “agent” Maybe, one of the crew members wants you to be their agent or be part of their crew. I think that your future looks like it will be pretty good as you make it to be. I feel that you’ll be fulfilled and satisfied.

[sagephilosophie]

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

┃ RINDOU H.

ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ! ʀɪɴᴅᴏᴜ ʜᴀɪᴛᴀɴɪ x ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

𖧧 Tags : SFW, high school theme.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

ϟ Crush!Rindou whom you took a liking on ever since he started going to your high school with his brother after their time in juvie, they earned immediate popularity then and gossips spread like wildfire how their rich father bribed the principal to enroll them.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that couldn't care less about the whispering in the classroom going over his gang life and recent fights, your friends were warning you not to go near him because of his sadistic nature, but observing him doodling something boredly in his copybook made you think,"He is pretty cute though..."

ϟ Crush!Rindou that joined the school's football team on the first try and kept skipping classes frequently, so you eventually began showing up at every practice and game to watch him play.

ϟ Crush!Rindou who was the indirect reason the entire football team teased you after every match for not missing a day, one of them being a classmate that started a rumour how you liked him instead, but you brushed all of them off saying you just like the sport.

ϟ Crush!Rindou who ignored you the whole time, all he did was take any water bottle or towel you handed to him, and didn't even answer your compliments or small talk about the game, unlike his brother who sits in the stands with you from time to time, and immediately catched on to the hearteyes you were giving his brother, although, with the no-change in Rindou's behaviour, the former likely didn't tell him.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that kept testing your patience with his indifference, after everyone you know has noticed you had a crush on him except Rindou himself, so you stopped showing up at the football pitch since it's useless at this point.

ϟ Crush!Rindou whom you managed to get your head off of for the rest of your highschool years, only until the final week before graduation, when it occurred to you that this is perfect time to visit the stands one more time.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that was the only one in the field by the time you got there, doing some tricks, and as expected didn't acknowledge your existence, until he heard clapping after his football juggling.

ϟ Crush!Rindou that spoke to you for the first time since his arrival and asked if you wanted to try, you said yes and joined him, but the ball couldn't balance and he was starting to mock you.

"One would think you learned something from the time you spent watching me."

"I wasn't watching you."

"Oh yeah ? Why do you only look for me when the whole team surrounds you then ?"

"...you noticed ?"

"It's hard not to, besides, Ran told me."

"Huh... Then you were giving me the cold-shoulder on purpose ?"

"Mhmm answer this, what are your plans after highschool ?"

"Go to college, pursue a career..."

"Well, i saved you time i could've wasted, all i plan to do is rule Roppongi streets with my brother, you could guess how i'll be a terrible partner."

"I didn't necessarily want you to be my partner... maybe you're taking this the wrong way, with your athletic skills and talent there's a better future than you think still hiding, i would know that, i've been observing you..."

"Yeah, stalker."

"I'm serious! There's at least one thing you want to do later on..."

"I think probably, own a night club."

"See ? You do have a goal, then what was that about distancing yourself again ?"

"You're still gonna regret getting close to me."

"We don't know that for sure."

"There's only one way to find out, what will you be doing after graduation day ?"

"Nothing, you ?"

"Also nothing, should we go do nothing together?"

"Good idea."

ϟ Crush!Rindou whom you managed to talk him into finishing his education and has finally became your ever loving boyfriend throughout college.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

@sagephilosophie

[httpsdana]

Gavi one where she’s feeling really insecure and comparing herself to others because she’s not the tiniest girl and he just showers her with love

Insecure~Pablo Gavi

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

A reminder that everyone reading this is absolutely beautiful and i love you all so much 💋💞

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers i write for

y/n wasn't the tiniest girl ever. She had some fats in her belly, and for her, her thighs where way too big. For her, her face was too round and her cheeks were too chubby. For her she was too much.

Feeling insecure since you were a child only makes it more traumatic when you grow up. You carry that guilt with you until it becomes unbearable. And when you finally start feeling good about yourself, or when you finally accept yourself as you are, something ruins it and takes you back to zero, where you're standing in front of the mirror, and pointing out every imperfection you can see in your appearance, and body.

That was the case with y/n. Growing up as a child she was always bullied for her body. She never felt good about herself. Reaching high school you would say the bullying stopped, but it didn't. It only became worse. That's why when she met Gavi after her graduation, she thought he was just there to make fun of her or something.

She pushed him away thinking that its better than getting attached. But his desire to make this broken girl his won, and there they are happiest as ever.

Well that was until Pablo decided go post a picture of them. They had always been the pribate couple. They only posted pictures where their faces don't appear, just pictures of their hands interwined, or one where their backs are to the camera with his arms around her.

But this picture was on another level. It was a picture of them at one of their friend's wedding. She had a slightly tight dress on, and her stomach was bloated and on display, her hair was out of place and her lipstick was ruined. Her shoulders looked too broad and her smile was awkward. Everything seemed wrong.

Although she knew it was a bad thing to do, she opened the comment to see what people thought about it, and it seemed like everyone had the same opinion as her.

nah look at that double chin 💀🤣

gurl should've gotten a bigger size 😬

is gavi actually dating her-

ain't no way literal models exist and he's with her 💀

i wonder if he's forced to date her or smth

Tear streamed down her face like a river. She didn't think these comments would affect her that much...but they did. She knew people will not like her, but she didn't think she would get more criticism than she did back in high school.

She locked her phone and covered her face with her hands, trying to calm herself down by taking a few breathes.

Maybe if i had blonde hair Pablo would like me more? or colored eyes? he probably thinks I'm too basic for him. or too fat. why is he even still with me? so he can leave me when he's bored? or when he finds a model that's suitable for him?

These thoughts ran through her head, only drowning her even more. She thought that maybe scrolling through tiktok would keep her mind off what she just saw.

Oh how wrong she was. The only videos she saw showed pictures of Pablo with pretty girls, or from his last meet and greet, girls all over him, some giving him their instagram and others their number.

What made it worse was seeing Pablo keep the papers with him. And the caption are all the same thing about Pablo deserving a prettier girl.

She threw her phone across the room and burst into tears. She didn't think it would hurt this much, but it did.

"you scared the hell out of me! why didn't you open the door when i knocked?!" Pablo barged in the room, making her flinch and the sound of the door

Only when he saw her puffy eyes and wet cheeks, his face softened but showed worry instead

"are you okay mi amor? why are you crying what happened?" he asked in a soft voice

He tried wrapping his arms around her but she only pushed him away and tried to stop her sobbing

"y/n.. what's wrong?" he asked, hurt evident in his voice and his eyes

"why are you with me Pablo? are you still here to make fun of me? why are you not with a model or something like literally every other football player? why are here with me? a normal basic fat girl with chubby cheeks and huge thighs and an ugly smile and a-" her sentence was interrupted by Pablo pressing his lips on hers

"y/n baby why are you saying that? you know i adore you. I'm literally so in love you that I can't even look at any other girl. I would die for you my love. Why would i want a model when i have you? a pretty, smart, super adorable, and an amazing chef as my girl. why would i want a girl who only cares about what she wears or how she looks or what she owns. I only want you sweetheart. I only love you and only what to have you in my arms every night. I don't know why you think i would leave you. you're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I don't know what made you feel this way, but please don't ever think that low of yourself. I'm so proud of you and i love you so so much" he said in a soft tone, his hands holding her face and wiping her tears with his thumbs. He kissed her tears away and brushed her hair away from her eyes.

She managed to give a small smile. Her stomach erupting with butterflies at the sweet words said by her boyfriend. She felt the genuine love they shared and the sincerity in his voice.

"I don't deserve you. you're amazing. i love you so much" she whispered, wrapping her arms round his torso and laying her head on his chest

"please don't say that. I'm the one who's lucky to have you in my life"

[rapz-rites]

Hearts

Damian Wayne x Reader

You and your soulmate can feel each other's heartbeat 

A/N: for @thesuperiorrobin btw I started writing this super late at night so it might not be the best but I hope you all like this

Word Count: 1.1k+

Warning(s): Barely proofread, loophole cursewords

You jolted up from your sleep. 4 times a week, 3 if you’re lucky. Like clockwork. Your soulmate's heart beats so fast, so hard, it wakes you up. You would think he was having a heart attack. 

You don’t know what your soulmate does that gets his heart beating so fast in the middle of the night. You found this whole heartbeat soulmate thing so stupid. Of all the things you and your soulmate had to share, a heartbeat, seriously?

On everyone’s 10th birthday, they start “sharing” their soulmate's heartbeat. It's not really sharing though, so you didn't understand why they explained it that way. Probably to romanticize it. 

You couldn’t go back to sleep until about 4am. But that didn’t matter because your alarm went off 2 hours later. You hated your life. Not only did you get no sleep because of your stupid soulmate but you had to get ready for school, a school filled with pompous a-holes. Luckily it was your last year and you only had a few more months left until you graduated.

~

You walk into class late, everyone looking up at you. Luckily for you, your teacher is nice enough to let it slide. 

“Hey” you said to the boy you usually sat by. His name was Damian, Damian Wayne. Yup. As in Billionaire “playboy” Bruce Wayne.

“What now L/N?” He asked. He looked up at you with an annoyed expression. Damn. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. 

“Do you think you could help me with number 5?” You looked at him with pleading eyes. “Pretty please.”

“Sure.” And he did. You didn’t really need help, you just wanted to bother and talk to Damian. 

The two of you were close acquaintances but not friends. He was you favorite pompous rich a-hole and you were one the most tolerable people at GA to Damian

After this class you were done. You were transferring books to and from your backpack when your best friend, Lienne, pulled up next to you. 

“What are you doing after school? Do you want to have a sleep-” If you didn’t stop her now it would turn into an investigation.

“I’m working at the clinic after school, but I can come over after and we can have a sleepover all you want,” you smiled at her.

“Ok. See you after work. Oh, and bring those chips I like please,” she says walking away. You chuckled at her.

You worked at a pet shop clinic. You loved it. You weren’t a people person, you were a pet person. I loved cats, dogs, and hamsters. Any domestic house pet you could get your hands on, you loved it. They were so much easier to deal with than people. 

You were peacefully playing with a hamster while it was quiet in the store. Suddenly 2 men rush in. You put the hamster back in its cage and turned to the 2 men. They both looked like they were freaking out.

“We need your help! Like it's an emergency,” the tall one said. He had jet black hair and a white streak at the front. Then the second one spoke up.

“It’s our brother's cat,” the other one said. He was shorter, maybe 5’10/11. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. He handed you an adorable little tuxedo cat. You couldn’t help but awe at it.

“Sure, what happened? Our vet is currently busy, but I can check him out and get him to see him as soon as possible.” you walked them into an exam room in the clinic. As you were assessing the cat, your boss walked in. 

“What's going on here?” He asked. You explained what happened and gave your assessment of the cat to your boss. He complimented you on your good work and took over. You were happy until you felt a strain on your heart. Something was wrong with your soulmate. It felt like he was having a panic attack or something. You went to the front of the store to sit down. You were trying to steady your heartbeat to cancel his out. But of course as you sat down, someone walked in. It was none other than Damian Wayne.

“Where’s Alfred? Where’s my cat?” he asked. You walked up to him to get his attention. You were holding onto his arm while he was looking around frantically.

“Your cat? Is he a tuxedo cat?” He immediately looked down at you. “You’ve seen Alfred? Where is he?”

“Your brothers brought him in,” you explained to him calmly. You were already trying to calm your soulmate’s heartbeat and now you have to calm a frantic billionaire son. He was spouting nonsense you didnt want to listen to while you ushered him to a chair.

“Listen Wayne,” you said, shutting him up. “Your brothers brought him in. I assessed him and the vet is now with him. He's going to be fine”

You could tell your words helped, but he was still anxious. It was kinda cute that he cared this much for a cat. One time you saw him roll his eyes at a school assembly about suicide. But he was still breathing heavily. At this point your heartbeat was calm but you could still feel your soulmate’s fast heart.

You took Damian’s hand and put it over your heart, and you did the same to him. That's when you felt it. People who already met their soulmates said once you know it's this indescribable, thrilling feeling. They were right. It was like time stopped and nothing else mattered. Your hearts synced and that's all you both felt. You both stared into each other’s eyes. You opened your mouth to speak but was interrupted. 

“Are we interrupting something?” The tall brother asked. You quickly moved back from Damian, putting your hands at your side.

“Yes”

“No”

You both spoke in unison. You looked at him, but he was glaring at his brothers.

“So what did Dr. Goldwin say?” you asked, smiling before it got awkward.

~

“OMG OMG OMG!” Lienne squealed, jumping around her room. “YOUR SOULMATE IS DAMIAN WAYNE.”

You weren’t surprised at her reaction when you told her. She always had a knack for the dramatics. As she was jumping around, spouting how beautiful your wedding was going to be, you got a text from your “future husband”.

Damian ☹️: Hello Y/N

                    Let’s go out on a date Saturday

                    Send me your address and I'll pick you up at 2pm

Y/N : I’d love to go out with you 😉

You’ll tell Lienne once she calms down. She's going to freak.

So… what do you think???

I’m working on request so plz don’t think I forgot abt those.

[idyllcy]

don't miss me

word count: 9.4k

warnings: smut, nsfw

summary: it's you. It's been you, and it'll be you.

"uWAHHHHH!!" You sob, slamming your head into your hands.

"You have got to stop confessing to people who don't like you." Dick grumbles, sliding you the box of tissues on the table. "He's made it pretty clear that he has no interest."

"I'm bound to get to him at some point." You sit up, blowing your nose. "Come on."

"He's the school's hotshot."

"And you're captain of the varsity football team," You cough. "If I can tutor you and become friends with you, then the captain of the baseball team should be no big deal."

It's a strange place to find himself in. Dick had gone to you for help in one of his classes in exchange for enough money to fund your four years of college, and in exchange, you had taught him everything he needed for his classes. He went from risking the chance to stay on the team to having the best grade out of all of his teammates. He's thankful for you, he supposes, and he's the school's most wanted boy. He has more than enough of a fan club behind him.

He wonders why he was put in a public school instead of the private ones his brothers were put into. It wasn't as if Bruce lacked the money to put him into one.

"ANYWAY!" You toss the tissue into the trash behind you, stand up, and throw your fists in the air. "I will continue to confess!"

"Why not just go out with me?"

You pout at him, batting your lashes. "And potentially end up on a good chunk of the school's hit list? No thank you, Richard."

"Dick. Come on, it's not that bad."

You shrug, going back to the papers in your binder. "I'm not into you."

"We spend so much time together. We're bound to end up together, you know?"

"If you pull a psychology term on me I will punt you."

"You don't have the strength for that."

"I'll kill myself to change the trajectory of your life forever."

"That'd be very flattering for you to do."

"Ew."

But in the small classroom walls that confine the two of you, there's not much for the two of you to argue over. It's just a tutor-tutee relationship. There's nothing more. You don't understand why you rant out all of your frustrations to him when he has nothing to do with them, but you suppose it's not that much. Maybe it was silly to think that he would care. He probably doesn't. Dick was never your friend by choice, after all. It would be foolish to believe that he could care about you at all.

"I like you!" You yell from the bleachers, blowing a kiss, the rest of the school screaming along. The baseball captain shoots down your confession with a flick of his hand, and you pout.

It's fun to waste your youth pining over someone who doesn't love you back. It's not as if it mattered either. You would all scramble once you finished high school. Graduation was just around the corner. It didn't matter if he didn't like you back. It was so much funnier when they didn't.

You hear a chorus of screaming behind you, causing you to glance, just for a moment, at the reason for the screams.

"Oh, look who showed up." You smile. "Miss me already? Our session isn't until Wednesday."

"Don't flatter yourself." Dick's hands guide you to sit back down, standing next to you. "I came to scout out my competition."

"I thought you were still in that friends with benefits thing with Kori." You raise a brow at him.

"Broke it a while back." He hums. "How do you find this interesting?"

"I don't." You hum. "I'm here because he's here." You point at the baseball captain. "Obviously."

Dick clicks his tongue disdainfully. "I come all the way for you and you tell me that you're here for him?"

"I was here first, Dick." You wave happily as the captain stares at you. "I've been here."

"Well, I've come now. Let's get you home."

"I want to watch him finish his game."

"Why him and not me?"

You tilt your head at him. "No reason. I just think the baseball captain's hotter."

"Hotter than me?"

"Yes. Hotter than you."

"Did he reject you?"

"He waved down my kiss."

"I wouldn't do that to you."

"Yeah, but I don't want you."

It's funny. Dick hears all about how you got rejected again in the most delusional way possible, from the way of "oh he breathes the same air as me so surely he's in love with me" to something more mellow like "yeah I got rejected again lol". But that was something he got used to, he supposes. The empty classroom that the two of you always sat in but never got yelled at for was a staple in his life, especially when more than half of the time he was showing up to class with bruises all over his body. Maybe fighting crime at night wasn't something he should promise to do so often. Bruce would let him focus on school if he asked. Maybe.

"You look like shit as always," You click your tongue, raising a brow at the sight of Robin coughing up blood on your balcony.

"Sorry, pretty girl," He chuckles. "Bumped into someone awful today, as you can see. Care to lend me a hand?"

"The joker? The riddler? I don't even know who you fight anymore." You haul him onto the couch, pulling the curtains behind you. "How deep is it?"

"A little wrapping will do the trick." He mumbles. "Sorry for the problem."

"You're here more than I can count on one finger." You sigh. "I'm used to it. Where's Batman?"

"He went back."

"And left you alone?"

"Yes." Robin hisses as you press the alcohol to his wound. "I'm sorry, again."

"It doesn't matter. I was up, anyway." You pause. "How long have you been fighting crime again?"

"I don't know."

"Mm." Silence. "You should rebrand soon. I heard there are two Robins now."

"I'm close." He chuckles, lifting his shirt so you can wrap the bandage around his waist. "What do you think about Nightwing?"

You grumble. "Superman said something about that the other day in his interview. I stayed up all night drawing what I think his suit would look like."

"Can I see it?"

"If you want."

"You're graduating, right? Where are you going after?"

"New York City." You mumble. "Haven't told anyone yet, but I got into my dream school. I'm set."

"Really?"

"Yeah." You mumble. "I'm moving over summer, so don't crash here anymore unless you want to give my parents a heart attack, alright?"

"I'll miss you."

"That's cute. I can't imagine the number of people who would die to hear that from Robin from Teen Titans himself."

"I will."

You stare up at him. Maybe it was strange. It had been three years since Robin would crash land onto your balcony in the city and beg you for first aid. It had been two years since Dick Grayson had asked you for help in math, and even shorter than the time you had started designing suits for him to look at. Maybe that's why you had grown used to the way he would rest his chin on your shoulder and stare through the lazy sketches you had of what you thought he should change his outfit into. He likes the way you picture Nightwing. He's like some disco guy in the first draft and much more chill in the second.

"Can I take the pages?" He mumbles. "Please? I want it."

"So you can steal my design?"

"No. I like the disco suit you drew."

"That was a first draft." You groan.

"I can start with it."

"It's too flashy! It doesn't fit the whole Batman aesthetic!"

"Doesn't matter." He grins. "It looks like my current Robin one but in blue."

You raise a brow at him incredulously.

"I'll buy these off of you."

"With your legal account?"

"I'll send you money each month anonymously like a patent. Wait. I can't see you anymore."

"Yeah." You exhale. "You can take it, though. I can't let anyone know I've been drawing Robin's clothes. I would get targeted by too many villains."

"That's true." Robin pauses. "Has anyone seen it?"

"No."

"Can I take all of them?"

"How are you going to get all of them to Batman?"

"I'll figure out a way." He grins. "I am Robin, after all."

"Well, then, Robin," You rustle the papers, dropping them in his open hands. "I hope you keep all of them."

"I'll pin them in my room's wall."

"That's just creepy."

"Maybe to you."

Dick never expected you to let him in three years ago, in his defense. He expected you to cower in fear like the rest of people or even just slide him a first aid kit. He was not expecting you to drag him into your room and start disinfecting his wound. He learned so much more about who you were through his interactions with you as Robin than he did as Dick. All he hears from you during the day is how you got rejected by the captain of the baseball team again. He wonders if he should just woo you as Robin instead. You seem to like his separate identity more.

"You forgot the number in front of the integral."

"No way." He grumbles.

"Yeah." You point. "Minor mistakes. It'll be fixed with some practice. I'm sure."

"When are we stopping this?"

"Eager to get me out of your hair already? After senior finals, of course."

"Are you going to keep confessing to captain until then?"

"Why?"

"I'm suggesting you give me a chance, of course." Dick stares at you.

"There you go again with that," You yawn. "Are you sure it's not because I'm your type? Scratch that. I don't even think I'm your type."

"And if you were?"

"That would be very interesting considering your dating history." You grimace.

Dick grumbles in response. He didn't have something for that one.

It's ironic to think that someone else in the school would die to date the man in front of you. You wonder why you don't like him sometimes. You're sure he's someone straight out of a movie, a guy who everyone would want to be with at least once in their life. He almost reminds you of the other football boys on his team. Maybe this was a movie. The jock ends up with his tutor. Some sort of cliché love story that you would never touch, ever again.

Robin crash lands on your balcony again before you can think more of it.

"Sorry!"

"What brings you here today? Ivy?"

"Yeah! How'd you know?" He sits up, a grin on his face.

"You smell like herbs all over you." You grimace.

"Woah, sharp nose." Robin mumbles. "Can you ramble about your high school to me?"

"Oh. You wanna hear about how I have a crush on the captain of the football team? The guy I tutor?"

"yOU WHAT? I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU LIKED THE BASEBALL GUY." Robin gasps, jaw dropped in shock.

"I changed my mind." You hum, fishing out the disinfectant from the first aid kit. "I won't admit it to his face, of course, but I think he's kind of fine. That man is infuratingly attractive. Who gave him his bone structure? He looks like a greek statue or something. I want him carnally."

"Are you going to ask him out?"

"And do long distance in this day and age?" You laugh. "No. I'm going to keep pretending that I like the baseball captain until the end of graduation. I'd like to be remembered as a fool. Besides, I don't think Dick actually likes me that way. I heard something about him and Kori in the halls and I don't want to be part of that. I heard he slept with a good chunk of the girls sports team captains too. I don't know. I'd prefer not to know. All I know is that I don't want to be part of that mess."

Robin peels his shirt up, pouting. "I thought you said confessing was the best form of closure."

"Not when dating your crush is going to get half of the school on your back. I've lived without being in the spotlight for long enough. I plan on doing that after school." You press the gauze to his wound, causing him to hiss. "You good?"

"Hurts."

"I'm sure it does." You deadpan.

"Why not tell him?"

"You seem very invested in my love life with this dude."

"I'm bored. I keep getting beat up these days, so I have to listen to something to get it off my mind." Robin pouts as you wrap the bandage around his waist.

"Did you gain more muscle?"

"Does it look that way?"

"A little." You raise a brow.

"I work out more in my free time."

"You know, maybe I like the stupid football guy because he reminds me of you too much."

"You like me?"

"I thought you were a good detective."

"I am."

"And you didn't know?"

"I didn't want to point it out." He mumbles. "Maybe you'd get uncomfortable."

"Alright." You yawn, closing the first aid kit. "This is one of the last times you're crashing. ever."

"Why?"

"I go on vacation in a couple weeks and I'm going to start packing for moving. You aren't going to be able to see me in a long time."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" He pouts.

"You're a nightmare, Robin," You help him stand up, pressing your lips to his cheek. "I hope I see you as Nightwing one day."

"I can promise you that."

You wonder some days if you should just tell Dick that you have a crush on him. You call him his government for shits and giggles, and you barely pay enough attention to what he does in tutoring these days. Maybe you were just destined to be stuck with someone like him. Yet, even as graduation approaches, you find there's no use sticking close to those ideas. You'll never see him again. It's pointless to admit your crush now.

"So? What's your answer?"

"I'm still in love with the baseball guy," You sigh blissfully, eyes far away. "He's so... dreamy."

"The only difference between the two of us is that I have better grades." Dick raises his brow.

"Richard." You yawn. "I could fix him."

"You absolutely could not."

"You're right. I could not." You laugh. "Isn't it fun being delusional? I think it's great."

"It is absolutely not."

"Maybe to you, Richard." You yawn. "I find it quite amusing to daydream about myself with a person who would never look at me twice."

"If you ask me." He clicks his tongue. "I'd say he thinks about you a lot more now."

"Oh, really?" You tilt your head. "I still don't find myself believing that fact."

"It's hard to think about it." He grimaces. "He asked me for your number the other day."

"Did you give it to him?"

"You said to ask first. I forgot to ask."

"Are you sure you forgot?"

"I didn't give it to him on purpose." He grins.

"Sly, sly, boy." You chuckle. "Oh, right. I forgot to give you the worksheets."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"Too bad." You rummage through your bag, handing him a stack of papers. "I'll see you after school."

"You expect me to do this during practice?"

"You're off-season. You barely train." You stand up, dusting off your hands. "Have fun."

Dick glances at the papers. "Wait-"

The door clicks behind you, and Dick sits there, staring at the stack of papers.

Dick lets his curiosity get the best of him, flipping through the pages, reading through your sketches and messy notes. It's neat, uncrumpled, to the point. The drawings are messy, but each part of his suit as Robin has been noted down. His weapons have been detailed, and he wonders if you had been doing more than just checking out his gadgets whenever he crashed your apartment. Maybe you were carefully calculating everything just as you had with his math homework. Perhaps he would get separated from you years later and never see you again.

He finds himself at your final period of the day, knocking on the door.

"Come in."

"Ah, Mrs. Baker," He smiles. "My tutor left this during lunch, so I came to hand it back to her."

You stare at Dick, getting out of your seat to take the papers from him with the actual packet in your other hand. "My apologies. I will see you after school."

A girl in the class faints while the others scream.

You sit back in your seat, staring at the note he left in your stack.

There was no point in caring for things that would inevitably pass.

So, neither of you mention anything ever again. The tutoring goes on as normal, the confessions do as well. There's something consistently hanging in the air between the two of you that neither addresses. The elephant in the room is neither seen nor discussed. The stories of your youth no longer matter to you, and you graduate top of the class, valedictorian, going to the school of your choice. It didn't matter that you had just stopped pining after the baseball captain one day. No one would know why. Maybe. Except Dick.

Dick learns to move on with life, slowly. You sit in the back of his mind when he's bored while on patrol, staring down at the city, wondering if you had ever considered him to even be an option. But he finds no space in thinking about you. He had his own job. The two of you had grown up, maybe you before him. The two of you were just. High school friends. Maybe not even friends. He thinks about your signature in his yearbook often. Maybe he would find you one day. It would come slower. Maybe.

But he leaves your mind as quickly as he had been there, left behind with Gotham when you had stepped foot into your dream school. You find your success in life as easily as you had executed whatever plan it had been in high school. You're quickly where you want to be in life, top of the city, sipping margaritas with your friends when you grow bored. It's something that someone has dreamed of, and it's something that you have considered. Maybe you would consider staying where you are longer had it not been for the obscenely high crime rate lately.

"I heard Jessica got mugged the other weekend." One of your friends sighs. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am." Jessica mumbles. "Oh, but there was this super hot hero who saved me! I tried asking for his name, but he never told me. Black suit, blue bird thing on his chest. He was so... dreamy!"

"Jessica, darling," Another woman chimes in. "I'm sure you've gone delusional. New York City does not have people saving them. Our crime rate is just a nightmare in itself."

"Was it Nightwing? You know, the... superhero?" You furrow your brows. "I think that's what he is."

"Is that his name?!" She gushes. "He's sooo romantic!"

"Jessica, aren't you engaged?"

"Awh, it's not as if I'd ever get a chance with him."

You chuckle. "Did he look good?"

"So good. God. His black hair? I thought I was going to lose my mind."

"Darling," A woman reaches their hand for yours. "How do you know about Nightwing?"

"I read Gotham Daily for fun." You smile. "It's good to keep up with what's been going on in my home city."

"Right! Then surely you know Nightwing?"

"Know is a little bit of an overstatement." You grimace. "I don't know him personally. I know about him."

"Oh, well." Jessica chuckles. "I'm sure you'll get to know him so much more soon."

"What."

"He asked if I knew anyone by your name, so I told him your add-"

"You gave my house address to a random man who saved you?!" You yell. "That's stupid!"

"He was asking for you!"

"Why?"

"I don't know." Jessica holds back a laugh. "I told him your studio address."

"At least it wasn't my house address," You mumble. "But I'm holed up in that hellhole when I get bored, so I suppose it's the equivalent of giving him my house address."

"He's got real defined muscles-"

"Okay, Jessica, I think that's enough for the night. I'll call your fiancé for you."

"Ugh. He's so fine."

"We get it, darling."

You help her into her fiancé's car, watching as the two of them drive away. The other ladies all head off, and you stand there in the night. It's not half as cold as you're expecting it to be, but you suppose being alone at night is a little lonely. You purse your lips, clicking on your phone to call an Uber to your studio. You didn't feel like staying home. Maybe sketching your frustrations out in the studio would do something better.

"Alone at night, sweetheart?"

You turn to face the voice.

"...Nightwing?"

He's in the second design.

"Miss me?"

"I don't know, actually." You mumble. "I was just feeling a little betrayed that Jessica just gave you my address like that."

"I checked it out. It's a nice little studio. Are you still up to big things?"

You shrug. "I bet you read the magazines about me."

"I do." He chuckles. "I have your sketches pinned on my walls still, even when I moved." He leans in, breath tickling your ear. "Shall I take you home?"

"To the studio, if you will."

"Hold on tight." He wraps an arm around your waist, launching the grappling hook. "I don't remember if you've ever flown with me."

"I have not." You cling onto him, grimacing. "Please do not drop me. You aren't Spiderman."

"Should I be offended that you're comparing me to a fictional superhero?"

"I'm going to die if you do."

"We're here." He lands on the rooftop.

"Why the sudden move?"

"Am I not allowed to follow my favorite designer to the ends of the earth?"

"Yeah. It's a little creepy, honestly." You scrunch your nose. "Did something go wrong with your suit?"

"No." He mumbles. "Maybe. I don't know."

You raise a brow at him.

"Nothing went wrong. I just missed you."

"Missed me or having a place to patch up that wasn't Batman?"

"Both." He mumbles. "Can I see your designs?"

"So you can steal them?"

"Not fair. You're the one who let me steal them." Nightwing pouts. "I still have them on my wall, if you want to visit my place."

"That's a little too early." You imitate his pout, leaning back, his arm still around your waist. "Don't you think?"

"For someone who's caught you naked when you were in high school, I don't think so." He hums, hand leaving your waist. "Will you show me around?"

"Since you asked so nicely."

It's strange to see him again after so many years. You were sure that Robin — Nightwing — would come to forget you at some point. You had heard more stories about how he had been such a great protector of the city at dark alongside Batman, so you suppose that inevitably he probably had found someone on the way. You heard he had a thing with Batgirl at some point. You wonder why he didn't stay with her. The newspapers were just as shocked as you were when they found out they broke up.

"I heard you had a thing for redheads." You hum, opening the door on the rooftop. "You know. With the whole dating thing on the magazines."

"I suppose I am weak to them." He follows you down the stairs, pausing when you fish out a key and open the door. "Jealou-"

You cut him off. "Welcome to my studio."

"Are those superhero suits?"

"I was trying to figure out what fabrics would work to avoid acid burns." You shrug. "Old habits. I was thinking of visiting Gotham a little later and I was worried I'd get caught up in another attack."

"You'll be fine. Robin is surprisingly competent."

"Are you guys like one big family or something?"

"No." You catch the way he pauses in inhaling. "Nope."

"Sure." You yawn. "I'm crashing. Please be gone by morning."

"Aw, you don't want to see me?"

"I can't tailor anything for you. Go to bed."

"Superheros don't sleep."

"You're human. Night." You close the door to the bed in the studio, and Nightwing looks around at the papers scattered on the floor. New York could survive a day without him.

You wake up the next morning to Nightwing still in your studio, staring at the sketches on the floor.

"Did you end up giving this one to Kid Flash?"

"There's no use. He's dead." You yawn, opening your laptop.

"Didn't need to remind me like that."

"Nightwing. Don't you have a home to go to?"

"I'm exhausted, true." He yawns. "You're contagious."

"Whatever helps you sleep." You grumble. "Stupid emails. Go home."

"And if I want to stay?"

"I'll peel your mask off." You sigh. "Now go."

"Can I crash some other time?"

"If you can find my apartment."

"Shall I bet on it, sweetheart?"

You tilt your head at him, raising a brow. "Be my guest."

Sometime between where you are now and where you had left Dick, he had caught up. Maybe it had been a chase he was doing unconsciously. Maybe he missed the way you would patch him up in your apartment at night no matter how late he found himself in your room. Maybe he missed the way you would take him out for dinner if he did well on a test. Maybe he just missed you. He finds himself staring at you in the grocery store, lips parted in mild surprise. He wasn't expecting to run into you here. He thought you'd stay holed up in your studio for the day.

"...Richard?"

"Dick." He corrects.

"It is you!" You mumble. "What are you doing in New York? I thought you were working for law enforcement at Gotham."

"Change of plans, change of place." It wasn't exactly a lie. He needed to leave that place. He doesn't know why he picked your city of all places, though. "You?"

"I've been here."

"I suppose." he hums. "Is it nice here?"

"Safer than Gotham." You laugh dryly. "I can't believe Nightwing left that place."

"Why?"

You turn to stare at him. "I figured he'd want to stay close to Batman."

"The first always wants to leave and explore." Dick smiles.

"A psychology fact or just something small?"

"An observation not proven by experiments." He hums. "Why are you here?"

"Low on oat milk." You mumble, reaching for the fridge door.

"You're really living that New York City life, huh?"

"Maybe."

"Do you miss Gotham?"

"Never." You pause. "I only miss it because someone used to crash my place."

"Someone?"

"Secret." You smile at him. "Have fun in New York."

"If you don't mind." He mumbles. "Can we exchange numbers again?"

"I never changed my old one."

It never struck Dick that maybe you would keep your old number. You had no reason to keep it, after all. Yet, as he clicks open a conversation that he hadn't touched in years but still kept, he wonders if the two of you had just stopped in time. Maybe he had just chosen you from the start. It wasn't as if his high school life was conventional. The popularity at school meant nothing to him in retrospect.

So, he finds himself staring at the ice cream aisle for a little too long, staring at your favorite flavor an uncomfortable amount of time. Maybe it would be his housewarming gift for you as someone crashing into your room. He should go home soon, he supposes. The sun was setting quickly, and he had to do nightly patrol.

He wonders if he'll just crash into your apartment out of instinct.

So, after a quick clean-up and call to the police, he finds himself landing on a random balcony. He could be wrong. He was sure this could just be some complete stranger's balcony, but it could also be right. He had a feeling that you were inside, as he always did. He finds a strange sense of deja vu, especially as Nightwing. He wanted to pay you a visit on the first day in your super-suit, but you had taped the notice that you were already gone.

"I'm surprised you actually found this place." You tilt your head at him as you open the door. "Come in."

"Weird sense of deja vu, no?"

"Almost." You yawn, noticing a bag in his hand. "What's that?"

"Housewarming."

"I don't recall telling you my favorite ice cream flavor, ever."

"Lucky guess."

"Sure, hero." You hum. "I'm too tired to be a good host, so do what you want."

"Could you wrap me up? That's all I want."

"You're hurt?"

"It's not easy out on these streets."

"Better be no cuts."

"Just a handful of bruises."

"I'll get the ice." You sigh. "Why do you always come at the most unconventional times of day."

"Maybe I just like you when you're half drunk on sleep depravity, pretty girl."

"I'm going to punch you." You grumble, activating the ice pack from your first aid kid, and throwing it at him. Nightwing fails to notice the way your ears burn from the nickname.

"Is it just one bedroom?"

"Did you think I lived in a penthouse?"

"Kind of."

"I live alone. There's no need." You blink. "Knock yourself out. I'll be in bed."

"Sweetheart."

"Yes?"

"Have you ever considered me to be a man?"

"As in jump me? No." You hum. "I have security cameras in all four corners of the room. If you did, I would have the evidence to prove you as some creepy guy in my house."

"Even if I'm Nightwing?"

"Even if you're Nightwing."

Dick watches as you completely fall asleep in your bed, ignoring the way that he gets up to sit by you, staring at your sleeping form. You were always too vulnerable with the wrong people, maybe. You had handed him all of your designs in a heartbeat, spilling out everything that had ever plagued your mind in a breath. He rests his chin on the plush of your mattress, breathing matching yours, staring at you. He wonders if this was what he had moved to New York for. Crashing your room at the unholy hours of the night and catching up with you. It's a foolish dream of his. You could never love him back at himself, so he resorts to crashing your apartment and asking for patching up as Nightwing instead.

"Pretty girl." He mumbles, sitting up, pressing a kiss to a lock of your hair. "Missed you."

You wake up to Nightwing gone, the balcony door closed, thankfully, and a splitting headache. You wonder if your all-nighters have finally caught up with you. Maybe they have. You're caught between wondering if you should text a friend to bring food for you or just ordering off of some overpriced delivery app in the most overpriced city in the country. You decide against both, falling asleep in your bed covers as your fever rages on. How exhausting.

You wake up to the sound of your doorbell, tugging yourself out of bed, taking your gun with you.

"Who is it?"

"It's me."

You open the door to your apartment, squinting at the man.

"Come back another time. I feel like shit right now." You grumble, reaching to close the door on Dick.

"If you're sick, shouldn't you need someone to take care of you?"

"My secretary can."

"You have a secretary?"

You sniff. "Yeah."

"I heard she's on break from the twitter updates account. Let me in. I promise I won't burn your kitchen down." Dick mumbles.

You frown. "And you're not going to jump me?"

"No."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"Well, if you do." You mumble, showing him the gun in your other hand. "I have this bad boy."

"You have a gun?"

"You never know who's going to break in." You grumble, opening the door to let him in.

"Do you have groceries?"

"I was at the store yesterday. Make do with what I have. Or something." You blink, pulling the blanket further over yourself. "I feel like I've been struck in half by an axe."

"Go rest up." Dick places a hand on your forehead, resting his forehead on yours. "You're burning."

"I think I know that much." You shuffle back to your bed, laying flat on it.

"Do you have Advil?"

"Tylenol's in the cabinet. Might be expired. I've had it forever."

"It's not." He mumbles, getting a glass of water for you as well. "Come on."

You sit up, swallowing the pills with the water, head still spinning. "Thermometer's in the same cabinet."

Dick presses the infrared thermometer to your head, staring at your temperature. "You're awfully hot."

"Thanks." You grumble. "You haven't said that since high school."

"What do you usually do when sick?"

"I haven't been sick since I moved out." You blink slowly, lying back down. "Don't trash the place."

"I won't."

You pass out.

It's ironic. Dick was in your apartment less than twelve hours ago as Nightwing, and now he was in your apartment cooking you soup that he doesn't remember ever learning the recipe of. He missed this. He missed you. Maybe that was why all those women had looked at him at some point in their relationship and told him that he liked someone else. How pitiful of him. To love someone yet date someone else.

But you recover just as quick. Almost as if you were waiting for him to just enter your apartment and take care of you. It was as if your body just needed him once. You don't know. You wake up to Dick sprawled on your couch and your body all dehydrated. There's a bowl of soup next to you that's still warm, and you start eating it as you take your own temperature. It's day. You don't know if it's the same day or you slept through an entire day, but the sun is out, and you feel a little better.

"Do you want help?" Dick opens one of his eyes to stare at you, and you blink at him.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for staying overnight."

"Of course." He hums.

Nightwing crashes two nights later, tumbling down your fire escape. You clutch the gun in your hand and stare at the balcony.

"Just me, sweetheart."

"What a crash landing." You mumble, opening the window to let him in. "What is it this time? We really shouldn't have that many supervillains here."

"Less, that's true." Nightwing hums. "But I still got a good beating." He laughs.

"You're going to be permanently bruised at this rate." You haul him through the window, sighing. "What do you want this time? More bandages? Gauze? A trip to the ER? My soul?"

"Nope. Just checking to see how my favorite girl is doing."

"Now that's just creepy."

"That is not!"

"Oh, no it definitely is." You sigh.

"Are you feeling better?"

You tilt your head as Nightwing pulls his suit up to show you the bruise. "I had a splitting fever yesterday. I'm better now."

"That's good. You didn't answer when I knocked yesterday."

"So you guessed I was sick?"

"Greatest detective in Gotham, remember?"

"Yeah, but this is New York." You mumble, breaking another ice pack to press to his bruise. "I'm sure there's someone better than you."

"Really?"

"I'm sure of it."

Nightwing swings by your apartment every other night. You don't understand how he has the time for that, but you don't question it or anything else. Too many questions lead to too many thoughts. You try not to think of much when you're hanging out with him every other night.

"At this point, I'm going to become nocturnal." You grumble, hanging off the edge of the couch.

"Just for me?"

You raise a brow. "No."

"Are you still designing?"

"Here's a new sketch." You hand him a random paper from the ones all over the ground, and he stares at it.

"A new design for me?"

"No. Just an alternate outfit."

"Can't you get it sewn up for me?"

"I don't like you that much." You grumble.

Nightwing rests his chin on your shoulder huffing.

Somewhere between the crashing apartments and movie nights, you found yourself tangled in Nightwing's limbs, closer to him than you could have imagined in the past. You wonder if any traces of Robin are there, the bruises and scars littered all over his body. You wonder if he had ever liked you. In the empty nights that you had spent with Robin, you found yourself enamored by him. It was foolish for you to ever develop those feelings, so you wonder if Nightwing can read it off of you. He probably can.

"I can't make it in two days." Nightwing mumbles, adjusting the blanket draped over the two of you.

"Mm," You mumble. "Why not?"

Nightwing goes silent, staring at the screen. "Breach of privacy, don't you think, sweetheart?"

"So now I'm not allowed to hear about what you're doing in your free time?"

"Hero's secret." He rests his hand on your shin, tracing mindless circles on your skin. "You'll forgive me, right? Sweetheart?"

You grumble, looking to the side.

"I'm not going to be patroling that day, anyway."

"Oh, yeah." You mumble. "I'm not home that day either. I'm supposed to help Dick move into his new apartment."

"Cheating on me, pretty girl?"

"I was two timing you guys in high school, sure." You pause. "Speaking of Dick. I don't remember ever giving him my home address. How did he even find me?"

Nightwing taps your shin twice. "You sure you didn't text it to him?"

"I swear I didn't-" You pause when you see a conversation with Dick, sending him your full address. "Strange. I don't remember."

"Are you showing early signs of memory loss?"

"Don't be a dick," You pout. "Maybe I texted him while half delirious."

"I have to go, sweetheart," He mumbles, brushing your hair back and pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye. "The city calls."

"I was thinking about it," You tuck your legs back to your chest, staring at him as he clasps everything back onto his outfit. "We should really stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever it is we are doing." You mumble. "The whole... situationship thing."

"Do you not want me anymore?"

"I'd prefer to actually find someone." You adjust the blanket on yourself, clicking to lower the tv volume. "That's not right. I can't date a superhero. I think that's more normal. I don't even know who you are."

Nightwing opens his mouth, closing it when he remembers he can't argue with you on it.

"Does that mean I can't crash anymore?"

"No." You huff. "No more cuddling."

"And if I ask you out?"

"No point." You grumble. "I'd be dating a superhero and not a human."

"I thought you said I was human?"

You pause. "But I don't know who you are. You could be some creepy forty year old for all I know."

"'Kay, now that's just rude, sweetheart. I am not forty."

"Yeah, yeah," You grumble. "Ask me out in your civilian form if you really want me that bad."

"Is that a deal?"

"As long as it isn't out of nowhere."

Nightwing disappears into the city, and you glance at the movie still playing in the background.

Dick thanks you for the help with moving apartments. You wonder how he managed to end up as your neighbor, but as he kicks the remaining boxes into the complex, you don't really complain. You could be sitting in your room drawing something insane for Nightwing right now. Maybe it was a healthy break from the guy you've been falling in love with. You wonder why he didn't just stop seeing you once he found out you liked him.

"You look like you're thinking hard."

"That's definitely not something you know how to do?"

"Ey. I'm not stupid. Remember? I was salutatorian." Dick raises a brow, opening one of the boxes.

"I forgot." You pause. "Wasn't your brother suspended?"

"Yeah. He was quite a handful."

"He was funny," You hum, opening another box. "I found him really amusing."

"Makes you think hard about family dynamics."

"Really does." You hand him decorations to go around the apartment from the floor, and you pause when you see a binder. "What's this?"

"Oh, you weren't supposed to see that." He takes it from your hands, holding it behind himself. "You were not supposed to see that."

You glance at the paper flutter out of the binder, and you reach for it, pausing at the familiarity.

"Did you... where did you get this?"

"I found it at a thrift store." He smiles.

"Thrift stores don't sell old sketches by people drawn during high school for superheros." You deadpan.

"An antique store?"

"Spit it out, Richard." You furrow your brows, pulling your lip up. "Are you Nightwing or did you rob him? I doubt both of them, so your explanation better be convincing."

"I like you."

"what."

"Let's go out."

"Where is this coming from?" You shake your head in confusion.

"Um. Two nights ago?"

You pause. "I didn't see-"

You blink at Dick tuck the paper back into the binder, placing it on the kitchen counter.

"YOU'RE ACTUALLY FUCKING NI-"

"I'd prefer if you kept that revelation to yourself. These walls aren't soundproof."

You gawk at him. "I was wrapping you up every single fucking night at Gotham?"

"Yes?"

You sit there, hands lax, hanging from the box, questioning every single thing you had ever told him up to this point.

"YOU LISTENED TO ME TALK ABOUT HOW INFURIATINGLY HOT I FOUND YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL?!"

"...yes."

You slam your head into your hands, head spinning from the impact and realization. You told Nightwing you found him hot. You told Dick, who had crashed into your room almost every day at Gotham, all about how you thought he was attractive, but there was no point in telling him. You kissed him on the cheek in high school. The more you think about it, the more you question your presence in the room and the more you want to dig a hole and die in it. You were such an embarassment.

"I think I'm going to dig a hole and bury myself." You look up from your hands.

"Please don't do that." Dick mumbles, stepping next to you. "Do you hate me that much? You said you-"

"Yeah." You purse your lips. "Yes. But this is very out of the blue and I need a couple days to process all of this information."

"Your break ends in a couple of days."

"UGH!" You cry, dragging your hands down your face. "I would say yes but oh my god. This is embarassing. So embarassing."

"Yes."

You blink slowly.

"Is that a yes or a no?"

"It's a yes." You answer in a heartbeat. "Please give me a couple days to come to terms with it, though."

"Anything." He mumbles, kissing your forehead.

Dating Dick Grayson is an experience. He's quiet, slow, and he takes his time with you. You find yourself in his apartment more and more despite the ever-sinking knowledge that he's Nightwing. You forget sometimes — only for him to crash through his balcony and roll into your arms. It's worrying now that you're actually dating him. There's a fear that he'd go missing like his brother and maybe even die. The idea that he was returning to the police force wasn't any more comforting.

"Why here?" You mumble, peeling the suit off of his body. "We can go back to Gotham if you really want."

"Why would you move back to Gotham with me?"

"I've been working online for the past year." You sigh. "I never knew when you'd come crash landing into the house during night so I sold my studio. I'm always worried you'll go missing on me one day."

"You're willing to move back with me?"

You heave, picking the mask off of his face.

"Really?"

"Your family is there." You whisper, almost scared as though your voice would give out on you. "Mine is too."

"You'll go back with me?" He holds onto your forearms, eyes sparkling.

"Yeah."

You don't know what prompts you to tell him that at the dead of the night only a month into dating him, but it just felt right. It was strange to believe that you had been so willing to move so quickly despite dating him for such a short time. You weren't even sure if you would be able to last past the three-month mark. Maybe it was a mistake of some sort. To move with Dick so quickly. You don't know how you're supposed to decide so fast.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?" Dick grabs your wrist, causing you to stop with the wrapping. "You've wrapped four more layers than you usually do."

"Do you think we'll last past the three month mark?" You whisper, almost as if you were asking the wind and not him.

"Yeah." Dick hums, helping you rip the bandage. "It'll be fine."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "I haven't lied to you before, love."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm." He kisses you gently, body warmth grounding you. "I promise."

You tuck the rest of the bandages back into the first aid kit, and Dick pulls you into his lap, peppering kisses over your face and neck. It causes you to giggle, smile erupting on your face as butterflies had when you had fallen for him the first time. The worries melt away as Dick runs his hand up and down your back soothingly. You were lucky. The wait was worth it, you think. He was an angel.

"Let me know when to stop," He mumbles against your lips before going back to making out with you, kisses light on your skin.

You squirm in his lap, his hands holding your hips down, giving you just enough space so that you don't bruise. His tongue slips into your mouth at some point, your eyes going half-lidded, welcoming him with fervor. Dick's hands trace circles on your hip, hands snuck underneath your shirt to tug at your bra, unclasping it with his free hand, lips never leaving yours. Your hands reach down for his shirt, tugging at the fabric, fiddling with the fabric. Dick smiles against your lips, pulling away.

A strand of saliva breaks from your lips as he does. "Struggling, pretty girl?"

"Yeah." You huff, watching as Dick pulls it over his head.

"Pretty baby," He laughs. "Feel better?"

"Yeah," You mumble, leaning down to bite his clavicle. You suck on it gently as Dick traces a hand past your shorts down to your clit, drawing lazy circles on your clit, humming lowly, vibrations traveling straight to your core.

"Pretty girl..." He sighs as you let go of his collar with a pop, sliding a finger from your clit into your cunt, sighing slowly as he slides his finger in further, earning a whimper from your lips. "Feel good?"

"Mhm." You gasp. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, pretty girl." He whispers against your skin. "Want me to help you out?"

"Yes, please," You mumble. "Please, Dick."

"Anything for you, sweetheart." His hands speed up, thumb trying to brush circles on your clit as his index finger curls inside of you. You wonder if he's teasing or if he really doesn't remember where your g spot is — You choke on your own thought as he finds it. "There it is."

Your fingers reach for his chest, nails digging into his pecs as he continues curling his finger, adding another one inside of you. He hisses quietly as your nails dig deep enough to draw blood, a trail of red following the scratch as he continues with his fingers inside of you.

"Pretty girl, on the back please."

"Sorry," You move your hands to his back, yelping as he starts again. You clench on his fingers as he curls them once more, your orgasm ripping through your skin; the sweat wraps your body in a thin sheen of white, reflecting the dim lighting of the apartment. You curl into him, your whole body shaking from the orgasm, lips parted in a silent cry. You blink to try and catch your breath, coughing.

"Sweetheart?"

"I get why you've had so many exes now." You mumble.

"I like you the best." He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your eye.

"I bet you say that to all of them."

"Only to my favorites." He hums. "Just you."

You look at him doubtfully.

"I promise."

You close your eyes, head ringing. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

You move to get rid of your shorts as Dick slides his boxers off, straddling him and sinking down slowly. You stay there to adjust, and wait, mind wandering slowly as Dick starts bouncing you. You keep your voice to yourself, only small whimpers and light gasps slipping past your lips. Your eyes cloud over as your brain goes on autopilot. Dick notices quickly, stopping altogether when you don't seem to respond.

"Babe?"

You stare at him.

"What's wrong?"

"I'll be fine." You smile.

You count with fingers in your mind, from one hand to the next, then back to the original hand, changing so that one counts the fives and the other counts the other single digits, and then the tens and the single digits. You don't know why you're counting them, but it seems like a lot or too little — too little yet too much. Your mind spins gently, slowly, almost as if the thoughts were like murky water, pulling you down slowly, waiting for a moment to drown you wholeheartedly.

"Babe." Dick tries again, calloused fingers brushing over your hip. "Talk to me."

"I thought you were the one who sucked at communication." You blink back slowly, not registering your words. "You know?"

"I usually do, but I learn."

"I suppose you do." You stare at him. "I'm scared."

"Of us?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "It's in the back of my mind constantly. What if you return dead one day like you did to Barbara so many years ago?"

"I wasn't dead-"

"You were shot in the head." You whimper. "You." You go quiet, resting your head in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes. "I've done nothing with you."

"Pretty girl-"

"Your life as Nightwing was in Barb's hands." You start. "The two of you have done so much together. The news went insane when they found out you were engaged to her and set to marry her. I was so ready to see the news of a marriage, and then it seemed that you had just broken the engagement out of nowhere — and then I find out that you moved out of Blüdhaven and disappeared from the very city you poured your whole heart into and find you out here on the streets of New york? What — what kind of madness did I read in the morning newspaper, you, you left the city you fell in love with for the streets of New York?? Do you know how — how preposterous you sounded when you said that? It was as if I had been told that Batman was actually Bruce Wayne or something, it was so—"

"Babe." Dick whispers. "Babe."

"... insane of you to just do something — yeah?" You mumble. "Sorry. We're having sex and I'm—"

"I find it endearing," He laughs, resuming the circles on your hip. "But I'm with you now. Not with Babs." He smiles. "You. I moved here to New York after becoming Blüdhaven's billionaire savior because of you. I didn't move anywhere for any of my exes, right?"

You avoid his gaze, swallowing out of guilt.

"Don't feel bad for doubting me." He smiles. "I understand why."

"I guess that makes two trust issues havers in this relationship." You frown playfully.

"Well," He hums, standing up, switching positions to place you underneath him. "If you don't mind."

"God. I think I should get fucked silly. I hate my brain."

"Then what'll happen to all of my outfits?"

"Just find someone else." You grumble, kicking your legs over him. "I'm sure you can handle it."

"Really?" He thrusts into you sharply, causing you to gasp. "Really."

"Dick Grayson, just get on with it." You grumble.

You wonder sometimes where he had all the energy to patrol, work, and fuck you, but you suppose stamina training might've been part of the curriculum with Batman. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he pounds into you, mess of slick and cum following Dick's cock as he slides in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. Dick pants into your ears, head spinning, drunk on the lust as he continues, fingers flying to your clit frantically, desperate to get you off. You're drunk off the same lust, hands moving to pull his lips to yours, mouth open and drool all over you two's chins.

It's messy.

You gasp and curl as you get closer, heels digging into the back of his thigh to try and have him deeper, his name slipping past your lips like a mantra, your mind melting into mush over him. Dick mumbles under his breath, marveling at how pretty you look with drool slipping down your chin and clouded eyes. You're gorgeous when you're reduced to a mess that can only gasp his name and pull at his hair. Crying lightly, you whimper about how you were close, spurring Dick to move impossibly faster. You cum with a clench of your walls and a cry caught in your throat, and Dick joins you, hips stuttering as he spills into you with a whimper.

Dick pulls out and collapses on top of you, a soft 'oof' slipping past your lips as he does.

"So... Gotham?"

"Give me two business days to recover from you."

"Yes babe."

The flight to the Wayne Manor is a little strange to you. You keep your apartment, and Dick ends his lease. You're told you get to fly back and forth whenever necessary, and you wonder if staying at the Wayne Manor and publicly getting involved with Dick was a great idea. Yet, you don't really care. You like sketching suit designs for the family in the Batcave. You also like going through the mess of Batman's closet and looking through every single design he has ever sported. Some of them were atrocious.

You turn to stare at the person enterring the Batcave.

"Pretty girl."

"Hey." You hum, leaning back to look at Dick.

"Drawing again?"

"I got bored and ended up here looking for inspiration."

"I figured." He sits next to you on the ground. "What are you drawing?"

"I was redrawing your original outfit as Nightwing," You smile. "The disco suit that you said reminded you of your parents."

"Does it look better now?"

"Slightly?" You raise a brow at the drawing. "There could be improvements."

"Like?"

"It's too flashy," You giggle. "I like my latter design better."

"What about the red one you hid in the back of the papers?"

"Oh, god, I'm embarassed about that one." You mumble. "But you did look good in it. Didn't it help you pull? I'm sure a good chunk of people were staring at your ass."

"You bet they were." He hums. "Didn't you like staring at me in it too?"

"Yeah. Your cape as Robin got in the way too often." You deadpan. "It had to be out there."

"It looked better out."

"Definitely."

"Do you want anything to eat or drink? Alfred's upstairs preparing dinner."

"Just call me when he's ready."

You sigh as Dick presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you."

"Love you too."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Idea I've had for highschool sweetheart to make könih further rot in guilt because it's silly and amusing that I simply had to share <3

In cliques of the nature of his bullies there are always the internal dynamics people outside don't see. Like how one person is never felt true compliments, only back handed ones if not just straight up insults. Fed lies about how no one else would ever be friends with them, the punching bag of within the clique to keep the glue of the group strong and firm. Naturally it would have been the shyest and most bookish person within the group. But you've known these people your entire life they didn't always act like this they used to be kind and good. (right? they, they were kind once right?) so day dreams become an escape because how could anyone be friends with you? How could anyone tolerate you? Especially after you were around the clique, how could you ever approach the quiet boy who you knew they picked on. He must hate you. You longed to be friends (don't delude yourself you didn't wish to be friends you wished to be lovers but start small right). How could you ever approach him. And then graduation comes and you're abandoned. You can heal and begin to find your personhood. You can pick the shattered pieces of your confidence up off the floor and glue your life back together. It takes years but eventually you gather up the courage to reach out to the boy after he misses the reunion. You want to apologize for your passivity at least. You must after all. (You were children and both victims in your own right but how could this ever be spoken of? You must play the role of the bystander because who would ever believe otherwise? You may have healed but there are still cracks of course.) and much later maybe he learns all this, maybe he reads it in a journal or a letter addressed to him, maybe you finally get the courage to tell him. And the guilt and rot grows like fungus over his heart, eating his anger alive and churning out something like grief in return. Not that you'd noticed the anger, you just saw the second chance, of course he would be wary of you, of course he would have changed over the decade, but a decade of growth was only done on the foundation of the boy you loved before. How could you not love the man he's become now?

tee hee I'm going insane I hope you enjoy my little ramble

Yes yes yes the delicious reveal of how it was for her, that she wasn’t having a happy time in the clique, that she, too, was suffering! ❤️‍🩹

In my opinion König would eventually come to his senses. If we’re treating this scenario with actual seriousness, he would eventually see that what he’s doing is useless and stupid and hurtful and unjust to both of them. I mean he’s clinically insane, he’s nasty and troubled and traumatized and works for a fucking PMC and tortures people but... he’s not rotten to the core. König is like a stray dog that bites if it feels like it’s about to get cornered and beaten again, and that’s his viewpoint with high school sweetheart actually. It may sound silly and misplaced but he’s just too triggered to see that he’s about to do a royal fuck-up with her.

And the unbearable shame when he realizes? When he faces the thing he has become? It’s simply too much to bear, he has worked so hard on himself & to put that shit behind him, he’s built confidence from scratch, he’s built actual, physical muscle just to feel better about himself, he probably joined the military because it was his middle finger to the world. Yes, he had aspirations and actual passions concerning the sniper dream but he’s also driven by this need to prove a shitload of people wrong.

And in walks this babe who reminds him of a time when he was nothing. Absolutely nothing. How do you love that? Because ultimately, it means you have to love yourself and who you were before you became the incredible Austrian Hulk. At the core of it is a 6 feet deep insecurity because König doesn’t feel he’s worthy of her at all.

I think the only thing that would cleanse his heart from pain is the revelation that she suffered too. As sad as it is, that’s what makes his heart crack open because then he gets to play the savior. But then comes the “Do you still love me even if I almost turned into the monster I always battled against” part… Because König would pay her authenticity "generously" by revealing the bully he almost became. And I think that’s when high school sweetheart really needs to ask herself if she’s up for this kind of shit, if she’s actually ready to love this man who isn’t as cool and tough as she thought he was, who is deeply flawed and resentful and childish and cruel.

Part of her probably knows that already and even loves his flaws, but loving König is like loving that stray dog. He’s gonna bring fleas and dried-up mud into your house eventually. Especially if you feed him and give him a scratch… Put a nice, cosy bed for him by the fire... Tell him he's cute when he whines next to your bed... Teach him it’s ok to prefer to sleep with you instead :/

[hylkun]

30 DAYS | L. HEESEUNG

DAY 1: THE CONFESSION

SYNOPSIS: in which y/n l/n gives lee heeseung 30 days before graduation to prove his feelings for her are genuine.

PAIRING: popular!heeseung x quiet!fem!reader

GENRE: high-school!au, angst and lots of it, fluff

masterlist >> next chapter

"Please, I'm begging you! Come to the party with me. You already know how Wooyoung gets when he's drunk, and I don't wanna deal with that alone. So please, come?"

Yunho begs you, interrupting your very-much-needed quiet time in the library. He pouted and was practically on his knees, begging you just to go to the party. You weren't a fan of parties, especially those hosted by Jang Wonyoung. Let's just say she's not one to be fond of.

"Why are you asking me, of all people? Go ask Hongjoong, doesn't he go to parties? I'm not a party kind of person." You reply, and Yunho's shoulders slump in defeat knowing that there was no changing your mind. Until, an idea clicks in his brain.

"Heeseung will be there!"

"Heeseung?" Your eyebrows furrowed at the mention of Lee Heeseung. What did he have to do with you going to a party? You'd never even spoken to the guy. "So?"

"So? What do you mean, 'So'? Literally everyone goes to the party just to get an eyeful of Lee Heeseung." Yunho says, slapping your shoulder playfully. "Plus, in Physics he's always staring at you like you're some angel."

"Um, Yunho, I don't really care. I've never even spoken to the guy. So I'd rather stay at home and binge watch Business Proposal. Again."

Yunho groans in disapproval. "Ugh- fine. But if I call you piss drunk, you better not complain." You hum in agreement and continue your studying that was interrupted. Suddenly, after minutes of silence, Yunho becomes quiet, surprisingly, and whispers in your ear;

"Speak of the devil, there's Heeseung right now!" He ducks down, as if it would make any difference due to his height, and watches Heeseung roam the library, as if he was in search for someone.

And it seems the someones were you and Yunho.

"Oh, hey, Yunho!" Heeseung greets the man who was once attempting to hide. Giving him a fist bump, he takes a good look at you before acknowledging your presence. "Hi, (Name)." He says, smiling sweetly and taking a seat in front of you.

Knowing Heeseung's reputation around campus, it was pretty odd to see him around a place such as the library. Yunho seemed to take that into account, too, because now he's grinning mischievously. "So, Heeseung, what brings you here of all places? Looking for someone?" He asks, the question making Heeseung's cheeks turn a red that you would only notice if you'd stared hard enough.

"Uhm, actually, I just wanted to know if you are going to Wonyoung's party tonight? Of course, not (Name), I know she's not the type to go to parties," He says, chuckling softly. How the hell did he know you didn't like parties? Maybe he just assumed, from your quiet personality.

"Yes, I am going, actually! At least I'll have someone to accompany me, since someone didn't wanna go," Yunho grumbles and gives you a nasty look. "I know Heeseung will be sad you're not going, since he likes you and stuff."

The silence in the room was thick as stone. The atmosphere felt heavy, almost palpable, and the only sound that could be heard was the sharp clicks of a keyboard as someone typed away in the library.

"Like me? What-"

"Yeah, I've said too much. Sorry Heeseung, you're on your own here."

Is all Yunho says before he speed walks out of the library, leaving you and Heeseung in front of each other.

"Well, this isn't how I wanted to confess, but I'll guess it'll do. I like you, (Name). I always have. Uh, I hope this doesn't make things, you know, awkward between us."

Lee Heeseung, the school's biggest playboy, has a crush on you? You were doubting that for sure. He's probably dated half of the females in the senior year, even your best friend, Leeseo.

"I'm sorry Heeseung, but if this is some kind of joke I'm not buying it. And I would really hate to believe that Yunho was in on this, too," you mumble, making Heeseung frown in disappointment.

"Look, I know hearing such a thing from me can be unbelievable, but I promise I really do like you. What can I do to prove it to you?" Heeseung pleads, clasping his hands together and pouting.

You were almost contemplating changing your mind.

But, knowing his background, it would take a while for him to gain your trust.

Plus, graduation is at the end of the month, so...

"I'll give you until graduation to convince me to say yes."

Heeseung cheers, although it wasn't a yes, but quickly quiets down once the librarian gives him a nasty look. He chants a mantra of 'thank you's and kisses your cheek before walking happily out the library.

Who knows, maybe the month won't be as bad as you had thought.

masterlist >> next chapter

taglist: @zerobaseone-zhanghao @jooniesbears-blog @heeswif3y @nshitae @llvrhee

[formosusiniquis]

have your cake

So way back in August 2023 the steddiemicrofic challenge was Cake and 311 words, my head empty brain came up with one thought and it was Steve Munson having a bakery called Mun's Buns and so many months later I finally got around to finishing my vision

Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Tommy Hagan/Carol Perkins; implied/past Tommy Hagan/Steve Harrington/Carol Perkins WC: 6408 | T | tags: Future Fic, the lightest of post homoerotic friendship breakup angst, fluff, Tommy POV AO3

The bakery has a stupid name, is the first thing Tommy thinks when Carol tells him where he's supposed to meet her on his lunch break. He’s still thinking that, when he sees the place for the first time through his rain speckled windshield. It's a modest storefront, small for what Carol says is a booming business, tucked in next to a used bookstore and a music shop. There's a baby yellow awning hanging from the front just underneath a sign lettered in soft blue that reads Mun's Buns.

He's late, is the second thing he thinks after pulling up. Caught up in some stupid bullshit for his dad he hadn't managed to slip away until 12:30. Even then it had only been because Tommy had told him he was going to be late for their cake tasting. He'd rolled his eyes when his father and Greg, a guy that Tommy only considers a co-worker in the sense that they are technically on the same payroll since Greg in every other aspect is incompetent and an idiot, had winced. Shooing him away like a kid who'd just admitted that he's already twenty minutes past curfew. But catching sight of the way Carol has her arms crossed, tapping her foot fast enough to kickstart a motor, while her hair hangs limp in a way that it hadn’t this morning a third thought crosses his mind: maybe he should have been a little more worried.

Waiting isn’t going to make things any better. So he steps out of the car, let’s the misty damp cling to him in a way that makes his dress pants and button down feel like a poorly tailored second skin, and takes his licks like a man. "Late, thirty minutes late. Christ, it's the only thing I've asked from you Tommy." Her right hook stings just as badly as it did sophomore year when she punched him for asking out Erin Murphy instead of her.

Shit like that is probably why no one expected them to make it this long or this far.

When they went away to college; different schools, hours apart. His parents had been gleeful as they'd warned him that high school relationships didn't always last. That he should keep his options open, he didn't want to miss out on the love of his life just because of comfort. He didn't get offered the family ring when he decided to propose right after graduation. Carol has always been particular. Wanted the house to come back to before the wedding could happen, wanted a long honeymoon. That meant saving, a lot of it. Tommy knew and Carol did too, they'd overheard his mother and aunt gossiping in too loud voices after too much wine that they hoped the long engagement meant they were both trying to figure out a good way to break it off with one another. 

Still, over the course of their now five year engagement no one's asked once if they wanted to trade for it.

Carol thought it was horrendous anyway. She’d had her ring picked out since ‘85, styled her class ring so it would look like the oval cut diamond she wanted. Had him slide it on her finger the second it came in.

Cause in the politest of terms, Carol could be a raging bitch. She was Tommy's favorite person in the entire world.

There’s going to be a bruise on his shoulder tomorrow, even if she’s guiltily smoothing a hand down his arm now. Thrust toward the door first in offering, Carol is sorry she hit him but she’s not apologetic. “I’m serious, Tom, if we lose this appointment and have to go with Sweet Treats for our cake I'll- I'll-"

Whatever threat she was preparing is drowned out and then cut off by the echoing TONG of the door chime. A light in the back shifts color for a second, out of place enough that he wonders if he even really saw it. Head tilting toward Carol, his question catches in his throat when he notices her pinched off appraising. Better not to add to the ammunition she might already be building.

And if Carol is looking he better do it too. She'll want to debrief when they're having dinner tonight, just like they did with the florist, the caterer, the three wedding planners they'd met with, and each of the venues that they'd visited. And it wasnt because she was demanding, fuck you Greg. It wasn't because she was being nitpick-y, alright it was a little bit because she was but he liked being particular with her. He liked being involved in his wedding.

So he looked around.

The way they utilized their space -- a building that big and there's barely enough room to stand, we want someone who knows how to work with limited space for the venues we're looking at -- was the reason their first wedding planner hadn't gotten hired. Small, but not cramped. There are a handful of tables scattered in the open space in front of the counter. It’s the kind of small town cozy that Hawkins had tried for and he doesn’t see very often anymore now that they’ve moved out to Indianapolis.

It’s lunchtime, still too early for people to be seeking out the rows of deserts in their neat glass counter and too late for the breakfast crowd. But one of the tables is occupied by a teenager with long, black braids scribbling in a notebook while a slice of ice cream cake melts on a plate by her elbow. 

Everything was neat, organized, and compliant with health code regulations -- they hadn’t even made it in the door of the first caterer’s when she noticed a trail of ants and roaches marching into the open kitchen door.

Carol had always been quick when she was making up her mind about something. Like those Sherlock Holmes stories they’d had to read in school, in a couple of seconds she could spot everything she needed to make a decision. After a decade Tommy still couldn’t keep up; but he was always best at following someone else’s lead.

The smile she’s got frosted across her face is as sugary and fake as the roses on the cupcakes he can see behind the low topped counters as she approaches the only visible staff member. A girl, young in the way that nebulous way anyone younger than him was now, with thick squared glasses that magnified two distressingly blue eyes. The counters looked like they were designed to sit low enough that she could easily see over the top while in her wheelchair.

“Welcome to,” her customer service tone borders on bored. Two words into a clear script and she sighs, as if saying the name physically pains her, “Mun’s Buns. We’ve got a special series of summer flavors: Strawberry Lemonade, Lavender Mint, Chocolate Fudgsicle, and,” she sighs again, “for the grownups a boozy Blue Moon with orange zest.”

“How about a wedding cake.” He’s impressed. Carol made it through the speech without interrupting.

“Do you have an appointment?” the girl raises her voice, enough to make them both flinch back. Customer service isn’t a requirement for this part of the job necessarily, but Carol had bailed on two venues because the staff hadn’t been polite enough.

Her smile doesn’t crack though, “Yes.”

Even though he’s pretty sure this girl has to be basically blind with the inch thick frames, she levels Carol with a lethal stare. “Not you.”

From the open entryway behind her Tommy had been able to make out what sounded like the highlights of yesterday’s game. He assumed that space had to be the kitchen where these rows of deserts were made. He’s still surprised when a guy’s voice is shouting back, “I don't know, Max, do I? Why don't you check?”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Max shouts back, glowering at then in stand in for her mystery boss.

“With your finger, asshole. It's in braille. When I gave you this job you said you were actually gonna work.”

“Douchebag." Her eyes never leave them, while her hands rummage around in a space beneath the counter where the cash register sits. Max offers no explanation or apology for her shouting or for her boss. A large red appointment book gets slammed down on the nearest counter, making Carol jump but the neat two by twos of chocolate frosted cupcakes don't budge. He watches, a little fascinated by the way her finger scans the page before slowing. "Did you write this or did Dustin?"

Carol has always valued gossip over professionalism, he thinks that’s why she’s done so well as a hairdresser even though she was always awful at chemistry. It’s also why he’s held off from pointing out that they could solve this a lot faster if this guy would come out from the back. "Why?" 

“Cause one of you can't spell and one of you is trying to invent braille shorthand. So I'm not really sure what to do with TomGan Wed.”

“It might be Thomas and Wedding.” Carol leans over the appointment book as she says it, using a tone of voice he has never once heard her use in the entire time he’s known her. He thinks it’s supposed to be helpful.

“Wedding sampler.” The girl calls toward the back, “It's getting late.”

“I’ve got it,” the voice from the back shouts back.There’s an effortless assurance Tommy can hear from where he’s standing. It hits him with a wave of nostalgia so strong he grabs Carol’s arm on instinct.

“Really,” she says, cutting her gaze over to him. He’s not sure what she sees. “If we could hurry this along, it's just we've only got an hour.”

“You're late.” The glare she gets shuts Carol down faster than he’s ever seen.

“Right.”

“Okay I've got it.” The voice from the back is now the voice in the doorway. Hidden for a second by a serving tray loaded with samples of rich looking cake, it’s the first time since arriving that Tommy has actually wanted to be here. Not just because he can make out strong shoulders and a body of a man that’s still very fit but clearly enjoys his work too; the hint of love handles above strong thighs. Only then that tray dips, and for the first time since 1985 Tommy finds himself looking at the shocked hazel eyes of Steve Harrington. “Oh.”

Carol reacts for him, taking in a breath sharp enough she might puncture a lung. They’ll both wind up suffocated on the floor of this stupid bakery with an awful name, because Tommy can’t manage to breathe at all looking at Steve. Still unfairly handsome, faintly pink at the shock of seeing them too he imagined.

His hair is long, is the first real thought his half fried brain manages to put together. Soft looking even where it’s damp at the temples where sweat has pooled. He has it pulled back with a couple of the same butterfly clips that Carol likes to use.

His second, somehow more hysterical thought: this wasn’t how Steve Harrington was supposed to be included in his wedding.

Tommy was six years old and knew he wanted to marry Steve. When he’d told his mom -- to ask for her ring, Steve thought it was romantic like princes and princesses that they had a special ring that they got married with -- she’d grabbed by his arm so hard it’d left finger shaped bruises. So he’d held that certainty quiet in his heart until he was ten, and suddenly it was okay to want to play with girls on the playground -- he thinks it’s because Steve got tired of there never being an even number when they tried to play kickball, he had a way of making everyone want to do the thing he was. Carol wasn’t afraid to tell Tommy C. that he was dumb or to tell Mark L. that he hadn’t actually made it to the base, Steve liked her fast. Too fast, and Tommy had to tell her that one day he was going to be able to keep Steve all to himself. But he knew that it wasn’t right to say that now, even if he wasn’t all the way sure why it wasn’t. He was ten, but he would be eleven soon, and he took this part of him that he’d kept secret for so long and he whispered it to Carol under the slide while Steve tried to convince Brad P. that he could too pick two people for his kickball team first.

He was ten and Carol said they could share. Boys can’t marry boys, but girls can. So they could both marry her and live together forever.

It became a joke when they finally shared it with Steve, thirteen and boys going out with girls wasn’t funny the way it used to be. Sarah Jane asked Carol if she had a chance at going steady with Steve. She told Tommy about it later and they both told Steve that he was too good to date any of the girls in their grade. “Well I’ve got you guys,” his voice cracked when he said it, throwing an arm around both of them. Carol didn’t care as much, but even she’d noticed the way Steve was changing from boyish to handsome.

They were sixteen and disaster was just around the corner, not that he knew that. Steve dated around but he always came back to them. The head, the heart, the body. They don’t feel complete without each other -- at least Tommy doesn’t. Mr. Kripke, who was hungover more often than he wasn't, passed out ten minutes into study hall. Carol didn’t even wait to see if he’d wake back up before she left her assigned table for theirs. She smoothed out a lined piece of notebook paper for them, and Tommy scoffed like he was supposed to. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing MASH?”

“It’s dirty MASH, and I thought you’d think it was funny.”

“I think it’s funny,” Steve had said, “that you’re getting eiffel towered on your wedding night. Who else is joining in, Carrie?”

“We couldn’t agree on who got you for their side of the aisle. So we’re taking you to bed instead.”

He was sixteen and the way that the two of them looked when they shared a joke was the hottest thing in the world. The way their smiles mirror when they turned to him, sharp and ready to flay open the softest parts of him.

Tommy’s two days older when Steve lets him kiss the taste of Carol out of his mouth.

It was three days after he turned seventeen and he had to pretend he didn't want to die when he saw how Steve looked at Nancy Wheeler. Like he didn’t want to rip his hair out because Steve was fucking infatuated with this mousy little teacher’s pet and wouldn’t even look at him anymore.

He still doesn’t like to think about the breakup. He pokes it like a fresh bruise. Less often now, but when he does he digs his fingers in. Baits Carol into fights he doesn’t mean just so he can pretend like he hasn’t lost something that hurts like a limb.

Steve Harrington turns twenty-eight next week, and he’s standing in front of them both holding pieces of what might turn into their wedding cake.

“Wow I can’t believe you’re in Indy!” False excitement grates, but at least Carol has gotten herself together enough to speak. He thought he’d have at least another few months to prepare for the thought of seeing Steve, by their ten year reunion he was going to be married and happy and over it.

“Yeah, this is- Married, wow! I kinda can’t believe you haven’t already.” He says it to Carol, his platitudes had always been for Carol, but his eyes find Tommy. 

While Carol chatters at them and for them both, nervous, he knows she’s nervous. The situation is sudden and strange and fraught. But Tommy just looks at Steve, who looks at him. He’s getting married in three months, one week, and two days from now and for the first time in eleven years Steve is looking at him.

"Takes a while to save up for when you want the best of everything. Dad's still the skinflint he always was, I think he'd pay me less than minimum wage if he could get away with it."

And those soft brown eyes look so sad, looking at him. Sometimes he thinks no one will ever understand him the way that Steve did.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting the best, or having a long engagement." Carol defends. It's the same line she's been giving everyone. Defensive of him and herself and the choices they've been making. He can't believe Steve is someone she thinks they have to defend against.

“I really hope you're happy, man," he says, and the sincerity is a balm on the sting of this conversation. He pushes his hair back from his face, the way he always has when he's uncomfortable and trying not to make it obvious. And there's a fresh new hurt when Tommy catches sight of a plain gold band on Steve's finger, shining bright between the golden highlights of his hair.

“I’m happy about this,” he can say honestly. Carol is one of the only things he’s ever been sure about. She held him steady as she could when his other sure thing left him with a cracked foundation in a convenience store parking lot. “What about you? How long after meeting the future Mrs. Harrington did you wait to put a ring on her finger?”

“Tommy,” Carol chides as the teen in the corner snorts. To anyone else it would sound like a reprimand for being nosy, he, and he suspects Steve, knows she’s telling him to stop worrying a scab that has no hope of healing right.

Married and they didn’t know. Wouldn’t have found out until the reunion. It’s not like he expected an invitation, maybe an engagement announcement sent to their parents’ houses. They’d sent one to Loch Nora when the real ring had finally made it to Carrie’s finger. It was equal parts olive branch and offering. They’d gotten it back return to sender with no forwarding address.

The bell above the door tongs again, loud enough to make Carol jump. The platter of cakes doesn't shift at all in Steve’s hand. His arm shows no sign of fatigue. It’s almost distracting enough that he misses the obvious. The bell signals someone is coming into the store.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. I know I said I wasn't gonna be late but Mike…” There just inside the door is the Freak. Undeniable even with his head down as he digs through his shoulder bag. From the riot of poorly maintained tangles that still hang around his shoulders to the expanded mess of tacky ink on his arms. The only thing that’s changed is the age in his face and the band on his shirt.

“Munson?” Carol has the reflexes and the personal grace to address him first. Shock more than the disgust it might have been when they were still kids.

Tommy feels like a kid still. Looks to Steve in an instinct he’d thought he’d stamped out years ago, only to be met with wide eyes and teeth grit tight enough to draw out the square line of his jaw.

“Christ, I still get nightmares that start like this.” Munson says, eye darting between the three of them. “Max, am I naked?”

“Don't know, don't wanna know.”

“I thought you'd be able to tell by the energy in the room.” He wiggles his fingers, still bedecked in silver, like they can divine the vibrations or some witchy shit.

That’s enough to make Steve break just a little. A soft, exhaling scoff before he finally starts to move out from the counter. Tommy catches, and he doubts Carol misses it either, how Steve passes the closer tables to set his tray down between them and Munson.

“I can tell I don't want to be here for this.” Their redheaded audience member says, “I'm taking my 15.”

“Don't go harass Mike, he's finally working,” Munson says.

“Will and El are on shift on the other side,” Steve calls out, not looking at any of them as he moves cakes from his tray to the table. A deliberate selection he seems to be making.

“Whatever, I’m gonna call Lucas and break up with him so he can play better or whatever.”

“Don’t be too harsh,” Munson calls out, “I’ve only got him on a five point spread.”

If Carol’s nails break from how hard they’re digging into his arm, somehow it’ll be Tommy’s fault. Not the fact that they’ve advanced the worst part of their ten year reunion by months, and also Munson is here and knows shit about basketball.

“Sorry, think my hearing’s going, sounded like you said you want him to lose and he’s getting kicked from the next one shot. I’ll let him know.”

“She gets that from you,” Steve and Munson say in sync. Glaring playfully at one another the way Steve used to with Carol.

“I’ll tell Robin you were-”

“Do not sick Buckley on me, Max made the deaf joke not me.”

“Weird, that’s not what I heard.” Steve has always claimed his hair as his best feature. It isn’t -- Carrie liked his eyes, Tommy his hands -- but it’s hard to deny that it doesn’t look good, flipping over his shoulder. His smile is private, just for Munson, soft the way he got whenever he picked up a new girl. Carrie taps the back of his hand, two sharp smacks, their signal for years that he needed to pay attention and notice something she had. Wide, nervous eyes dart to Steve -- like he hadn’t already been looking at Steve -- so he does his best to assess the way Carol would.

Jealous, viciously, Steve had been theirs in every way that mattered since they were ten years old and Carol had never liked sharing her toys with anyone but them. She watched his face for any sign of unhappiness anytime a new girlfriend came along, and when she found one she passed it along to him. So he could pick and joke until Steve was all theirs again.

So he checked the face. Tried to ignore the way Steve was lit up from the inside out with a joy he could barely remember, and then he saw the hearing aid.

He tapped back, three times. O.M.G.

“The 1985 Homecoming court here to reveal that this has all been a long con, Stevie?”

“Yeah I faked the name change paperwork and picked up a fake ID, sorry I took my business somewhere else.” Steve says it with the sincerity he’s always made those kind of jokes with, his strange sense of humor never coming across when he always sounded so serious. 

Munson gets it though, snorts loud and ugly, before a smile pulls wide across half his face the otherside taught with a gnarly scar. “Now I know why my fake ID business went belly up when we got to the city, not like I only sold three in high school.”  He gestures to the three of them in a wide arc.

Sophomores, they had decided it was time to throw their first real party now that Steve’s parents had moved out of Hawkins in all but name. Steve was a latchkey kid of new proportions and took to self sufficiency in a way that had seemed adult to him then; and in hindsight looked more like a child fighting for his life. Steve bragged how he’d been saving up the weekly checks they’d sent to ‘sustain him’ while they worked in the city during the week. His contribution to Tommy and Carol’s vague plan to throw a kegger by the pool. When they’d floundered, immediately, with the hows, Steve had been the one to suggest going to Munson.

“Love this preview of the reunion,” Carol cuts in, there’s no bite but Munson bristles anyway like she’s being rude for reminding them that there are customers present. “Steve?”

It’s funny, Tommy thinks, the way Steve still straightens his back at Carol’s tone. All this time and he can’t fight the old ingrained instincts either.

“Dustin made the appointment,” Steve apologizes, even as he’s posture perfect and preparing his pastries. The unsaid, ‘I definitely wouldn’t have’ doesn’t go unheard and it doesn’t sting any less even this far from their last interaction.

“Munson could join us,” Tommy offers, a new olive branch since their last one was never seen. Even if it does raise three sets of brows and makes Carrie’s nervous smile tighten even more in the corner of her mouth.

“Well at least one of us has to,” Munson, Eddie, says. Just says, tone like it was meant to be something said under his breath.

He's grown up a lot since high school, they both have. Still, he's only got twenty minutes left on his lunch break and it's been a long day. "God, is that why it's called that?" Growth, he doesn't say that Steve Munson sounds a lot dumber than Steve Harrington.

"It's charming," Carol and Steve both say. Though Carrie is definitely lying and Steve barely gets it out from between his gritted teeth, a sore spot. He's always been good at finding Steve's bruises.

"It's charming," Tommy agrees, like he always did when he was out voted.

Eddie has a smirk spread across his face and a ‘too proud of himself’ look in his eyes. Mouth open to make some quip that Tommy is going to pretend is funny, for Steve’s sake. Now that they’re here, he’s going to do something to show that they could talk to one another again. Steve clicks his tongue, taps his index and middle finger down to his thumb two quick times before he can.

He turns to the girl in the corner, "Erica, scram, go help Robin and the kids with the new donation that just came in."

The teen continues to scribble in the notebook in front of her, bulky headphones over her ears, she makes no sign that Tommy can see that she's heard Steve speak. "Erica, go, or I'll tell your mother you moved out of the dorms. You're 20, it's not child labor, and you've got a timecard."

She sighs and wordlessly packs up her things, she gives Steve a scathing look that takes Tommy back to high school. The withering eyebrow and rolled eyes would have been just at home on Steve’s own face in 1985, but she marches behind the counter, the sound of her dish rattling in the sink before she disappears out the same door that the redhead had gone out.

Now that the room has been cleared, an awkward silence has found the space to squeeze in. Munson, the original, still standing in the doorway and Steve standing between his unlawfully wedded husband and the two people who had lost their chance at him years ago.

The wedding and the reunion both on the horizon had dredged up a nostalgia that Tommy and Carol had been dealing with in their own ways. Dredging up old yearbooks, Carol had found a shoebox of old notes that she’d kept. Conversations written in three different inks by three different hands, nonsensical after all this time. Tommy woke up from dreams that he hadn’t had in years. Always of Steve and Carol, a study in opposites, but similar where it mattered.

“Well,” Steve says, taking charge of the situation like he always would when the other two faltered, “you’re here for a reason. We might as well get started on it.”

Steve’s fingerprints are still on them, just like he’d noticed theirs on him, molded as they were together. They’ve always bowed to his expectations, and his whims. When he ushers them to the table with a spread hand, Tommy and Carol go where they’re beckoned.

And so does Munson.

They keep an empty chair between them, an artificial divide for Tommy’s sanity, but with the sprawl of Munson’s legs their knees still occasionally brush together. Carol had taken the spot closest to Steve, who has stayed standing. He is their gracious host, marking the head of the round table.

“I pulled out the full sampler before I realized it was you,” Steve says. Even with as off balance as the interaction has felt, Tommy doesn’t feel his hackles raising. While it’s possible he’s gotten more subtle with his digs, Steve’s vicious tongue was usually unmistakable. “I can tell you about as many of them as you want though if you want to pretend like we don’t already know what I’ll be making you. I’m sure neither of you have eaten lunch yet.”

“You are going to take us on?” Carol asks. Shock always gives her tone an extra edge, defensive and catty, even if she’s really just waiting to see if another shoe will drop.

“Obviously,” Steve says, placing a faintly orange square of cake in front of her. He slaps Eddie’s hand away from another piece without looking away from either of them. “That’s as far as I’ll be going in participation though.”

He doesn’t miss the way Steve’s mouth twitches up with the joke, a filthy smirk that leaves Tommy flushing hot. Too warm to not be a bright and obvious red at the acknowledgment of that old private in-joke.

It doesn’t get better when Carol moans, “Oh my god, Steve!” Even if it is about the cake.

He laughs, and Tommy suspects the two are actually trying to kill him. He chances a glance over at Munson who looks like he doesn’t care at all that his husband has made Tommy’s fiance moan. He is watching Tommy though, an inquisitive look like the one Carol gets when she happens to catch a nature documentary.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees with Carol, “I’ll do something small with that citrus cake for you and Tom so you’ve got something you’ll actually eat on your wedding, maybe a pineapple buttercream on top like that nasty Juicy Fruit gum you like so much.”

“I mean it’s really crazy how you’re so good at this when you’ve never had any taste,” Carol compliments, she never did learn how to be nice.

He could probably count Steve’s teeth in the answering smile. Tommy can feel it like an ache in his chest how much he missed this. He snatches another cube of cake off the tray just so has something else to focus on.

“That’s the fancy one for the people who hate their guests,” Munson says as the cake has settled on the flat of Tommy’s tongue.

“It’s lavender,” Steve corrects, and the floral flavor is lodged in the back of his throat at least gives him a reason now to feel so choked up. “And it is for a particular sort of bride.”

“Are you saying I’m not fancy and particular, Munson?” Carol asks. 

She’s obviously talking to Eddie Munson, who lifts his hands up in answer. But it’s Steve who says, “If you tried to feed that to Gail she would leave the reception bitching the whole time.”

“Well go on,” Tommy finds himself goading now that he’s swallowed, “finish calling your shot, Stevie. You said you knew what we were walking out of here with.”

Carol reaches across the table, locking eyes with Eddie as she snags the piece closest to him. The one his fingers had been inching toward like he thought Steve wouldn’t notice him trying to take it.

“I’ll make a small citrus cake for you, Carrie, we’ll hide it in the back of the larger cake so you can get the pictures of you cutting it and smashing into each other's faces-”

“We will not be doing that,” she interrupts, the warning for him and also unnecessary. He already knows how she feels about being embarrassed in public.

“Then the big cake for your guests will be a chocolate cake, I can cover it in a buttercream or a fondant icing also chocolate, because it’s the only kind of cake the Hagan family will eat. Even though I’m sure John hasn’t given you a dime for the wedding, he’ll complain until Hannah gets married if he doesn’t like the cake.”

“Really,” Steve continues, “the only thing up in the air is how many people you were able to get away with not inviting, Care.”

The two of them start talking actual wedding logistics, and as Tommy grabs another bite of cake -- this one looks like it might be a normal flavor -- he figures the real show of good faith would be talking to the only other person at the table while he eats what Steve correctly dubbed his lunch.

“Y’know he never actually answered me,” he says in an undertone.

Munson seems surprised at being spoken to, only widens his eyes in response to Tommy’s unasked question.

“I asked Steve how soon after the first date he proposed, he never actually answered.”

Eddie softens at the edges before he can even say anything. Steve had a way of doing that, bringing out the romantic in a person. He loved with a passion that demanded it be matched. “Technically I proposed to him, but he says it doesn’t count because we weren’t together and I was high on morphine after a major surgery and thought he was Apollo, come to whisk me away.” The smile on Munson’s face looks dopey and drugged up now, like the very memory of whatever hospital stay is so ingrained in his mind he can feel the high now.

“But,” he goes on, “he told me we were getting married whether it was legal or not about three months after he got legally married to another woman.”

“Stop,” Steve has always been able to sense when he’s about to be the butt of the joke. He has a finger pointed at Eddie like a teacher delivering a lecture. “You can’t tell people that. It was for tax reasons, I’m not cheating on my wife.”

“You say tomato, I say whichever one of us is your least favorite has to be the extramarital affair.”

“I say, you’re the most obnoxious person I’ve ever met.” Tommy can hear the warm affection behind the insult, the way their picking is a safer way to express their passion for one another.

He thought he would be jealous of whoever finally managed to reel in Steve Harrington for good, and he is. The emotion is there, present in the snarling tangle of emotions that this encounter has left in him. One that he and Carol will have to slowly tease and pick out tonight when they’re home in bed. Trying to make sense of what each thread is and what it means for them. But the one bright pulsing thread he can make sense of is happiness. He’s happy for Steve, happy that he gets to see an old friend so at ease and obviously cared for.

And he’s sad that his time is up, his lunch hour so close to an end he’ll be late getting back to the office. Something he can already hear his Dad and fucking Greg giving him shit for. Which means they have to end their time here.

Steve walks them to the door, flips the sign to mark them closed for lunch.

“Congratulations again, you two,” he says, “I really am happy I can get to be a part of this with you all. Even if it’s a little different than we used to imagine.”

Carol reaches out for the both of them, puts her hand on his arm. Tommy finds that he’s the one who actually says, “We’re glad you found someone who makes you this happy, dude. You deserve it.”

“Yeah, he’s alright most of the time.” It's said with such fondness it becomes a declaration. It’s hard to imagine how they thought they could ever be the something that could make Steve this happy. But maybe in a different life, under different circumstances it could have been.

There’s a minute where they all stand in the doorway. He wonders if they’re all afraid that this might be the last time they see each other, speak to one another, until Steve is delivering the cake on the day of the wedding. Maybe it’s just him, he was the one who pushed back the hardest after things ended.

Someone finally gives in and pushes the door open. It’s TONG a death toll for their current conversation. But it also sends a jolt through Steve, he straightens to his full height like a shock has gone through him. “Here,” he says, “here, um.” He digs around in his apron until he finds a pen and a receipt pad. Jots down something before tearing it off and putting it in Tommy’s hands, “It's our home number, in case you have any cake emergencies or something.”

They really can’t stay any longer.

Carol takes the note, better at keeping track of these things than Tommy is. It’s hard to know if they’ll actually use it, maybe after they talk about it, but if they do she’ll be the one to do it. She’s always been braver than him.

There’s no way of guaranteeing anything but the fact that they’ll have a cake on the table on their wedding day. But he hopes that Steve might stay for the ceremony once he brings it, he can even bring Eddie if that’s what gets him there. 

Alone in his car, Tommy lets himself take a minute to think about Steve Harrington one last time. He isn’t going to get what he wanted as a kid. Doubts that he’ll ever be as close to Steve as he’d been in childhood, too much time has passed and too much has changed.

But there’s an opportunity to get to know Steve Munson, and he isn't going to pass it up. Even if he doesn’t know how to name a bakery.

[thebearer]

I kinda like the idea that lips reader and him were strictly platonic for a good year or two they were friends. I think lips reader being a education major wouldn’t be going out to frat parties that much because if she gets caught she is fucked. As a education major, it is like well known that you are basically on a blacklist if you are caught drinking at tailgates or holding a drink even, so she wouldn’t be in Lips eyes if you know what I mean? She a beautiful girl and kind girl, but that is not really what Lip is looking for in his hoe college era. But after a few years of friendship, probably when she asked him to help her decorate her first classroom, and they just randomly start noticing the chemistry in a lot of ways but only have sex and don’t talk about the feelings.

i love this concept.

i love the concept that they meet in college, undergrad, and for whatever reason they really hit it off. maybe she covers for lip at the beginning or helps him in some way, and he's like "yes this is a friend".

i also love that concept that she's more reserved. they balance each other out very well. she's serious about her education, and he's... not as much because he's pissing it away. i feel like she'd check him a lot of times, keep him from some of the stupid shit he did. also the idea that she's saving his ass- picking him up from parties, making sure he comes to class, he practically lives at her dorm and campus apartment but it's all platonic.

they really are just friends until shit goes down. amanda, helene, youens, all that and shit hits the fan and he has no one. everyone leaves but her. she gives him a place to stay, helps convince him to go to rehab.

once he gets sober, she's still there. she's always there for him, and lip is confused more than anything. it really is what friends do, but he feels different. feels like he doesn't deserve it, but also like... he's catching feelings.

he's working at the diner and the internship, she's student teaching. as much as he wants to be bitter and angry, like he normally would, he's not because... she deserves it. she didn't party with him all the time, was careful, serious, and she's so good at it. really, she is. he tells her that too.

i feel like she gets a job offer for when she graduates, the school she student taught at wants to keep her on in the next year since she did so well, and that's when things start getting interesting between the two of them. it's like they're joined at the hip, together all the time, and now... something's changed. they start having sex, but it's a "mistake" every time. feelings develop, lip goes off the rails, there's tension bc he won't allow himself to have feelings like that and doesn't want to lose his best friend.

he tries to deny himself, to distance himself bc he can't do this and ruin this, but then he's like... i literally can not live without you and i don't want to (ian heavily influenced this realization bc lip was acting insane and ian had to check him lol). it's slow and a little jagged, but it blossoms into a true relationship. lip finally understands what all those fuckers are talking about when they say "i get to love my best friend" bc that really is her.

maybe i should make this a series lmao. maybe just like little blurbs that are insights to their relationship and life? would you guys be interested in that? making it like a au type sitch?

[margridarnauds]

what's grade inflation? why does it exist?

For more information on grade inflation, I highly recommend typing in "inflation" on AO3 and...

Sorry, have had no rest and very likely won't get much rest today, because no rest for the wicked...or grad students, so I had to get the cheap humor out of the way.

Grade inflation is, essentially, a system in place at many universities where the graders are heavily pressured into giving higher grades to their students. This is particularly prominent at elite universities, where Mommy and Daddy do not want Schnuggiekins to have anything as undignified as a B on their transcript when they are set to be a senator, but it is also common across the board, including in high schools and, joy of all joys, it is only getting more prevalent, as schools are essentially in a nuclear arms race to deliver higher grades, since it means they can say "Look! 98% of our students graduated with a 4.0!" It looks bad when students don't pass, so students *generally* pass no matter what. Doesn't that make you feel optimistic about the future?

And because it is common across the board at these places, that essentially forces conformity, because if you do NOT give them at least a B+...or sometimes an A-, you will get undergrads complaining about why you were mean to them, because the OTHER TAs would do the same, and student evaluations are VITAL to your career stability down the line. So, besides GENUINELY wanting to be seen as easygoing and relaxed (because, remember, if you're a woman in academia, you ALSO have to beat back the allegations of being a Bitch...and there have been numerous surveys done to indicate that student evals can be biased), it is also unfortunately...not MANDATORY, but something that I do feel heavily pressured by. People forget that the power dynamics between TAs and their students aren't always clear cut -- I'm in a position of authority, and I recognize that and am ALWAYS operating under that awareness, but they can also severely impact my career with student evals...and inconvenience my life if they decide to dispute a grade, such as when I had people emailing me on Christmas about why I gave them an A-. (The answer: Because they had earned, in my opinion, an A-.)

The result is that, functionally, I am grading, roughly, on a scale of B- to A, which means that my grades can't really reflect the nuances that can exist in these things. I have to put things that are "borderline grad student level work" alongside "well. you didn't do anything WRONG". (There have been occasions where they have gotten the Email Of Shame from me where I flat-out refuse to grade it.)

At my undergrad, in my community college (which people always like to act was some kind of...inferior education), if I handed in a paper with numerous typos, it would have been an A- at best. Potentially a B+ if my arguments were not up to the highest standard. I turn in an argument with no citations and not much of an argument...honestly probably a C? Maybe? I KNOW some of my professors would have refused to grade them. But I would feel pressured to give the same paper a B with a reminder to please cite their sources next time.

And, again: I do, genuinely, care for my students. I believe that, for the most part, they ARE trying their best. I don't enjoy being harsh on them, and I don't expect them to be writing at a grad level. I remember being an undergrad -- it isn't like it was that long ago, it's only been six years. I made a lot of mistakes. Including some very stupid ones. And I was lucky to have very patient professors who ALSO weren't afraid to call me out if I didn't do a good job. But, because of systemic issues beyond my control, I can neither give them a real wake up call so that they can improve OR truly reward them for outstanding work.

[piromina]

WAIT A MINUTE

We all know Felix is a theatre kid....but have we ever thought of WHY he's a theatre kid?

What if–and hear me out on this one–what if Felix became a theatre kid because he had to? As in, there was a life-or-death situation, and the only way Felix could get out of it was by taking theatre?

Alright, so as we know, Felix is a sentimonster created by his dad.

And, as we know, Felix's dad was a bit....abusive.

And, as we know, Felix knows this too. With the amount of times Felix has had to obey his father, no matter how much he didn't want to, he knew something had to be up. After Colt kept calling him a "monster", over and over again, he realized he was a sentimonster. He just didn't know where the amok was. But after Colt cracked the ring, Felix figured everything out.

And Colt knew that Felix knew.

And Colt knew that Felix was probably going to tell someone about it. Someone like, possibly, the police. CPS. Both of those are options. And Colt didn't want to get into all of....that.

So he got his ring, and gave Felix an order.

"Don't tell anyone."

And, after that, Felix couldn't. He couldn't tell anyone that he was a sentimonster.

...But that was just it.

Colt Fathom has made a mistake. Because of his jealousy of Adrien, he wanted Felix to be even better. In everything. He had Felix go to school, and Felix graduated at, like, 13. Graduated.

But, Colt, if Felix graduated, that means that he is smart. Smart enough to find a way out of this predicament, out of this little ordeal you put him into. Maybe he can't call CPS on you, and maybe he can't tell anybody that he's a sentimonster.

....At least, not directly.

After this incident with the ring, and with all of the new knowledge Felix now has, he starts looking for loopholes in the commands. He starts finding ways to disobey.

If he can't tell anyone that he's a sentimonster, can he at least heavily imply it?

And so, Felix took theatre. He learned how to sing and dance.. He learned about sets and backdrops, and costumes, and he learned how to act like other people.

And all of his acting paid off in the episode Representation. Felix puts on a play, a good one, too. And it conveys everything it's supposed to. He can't tell Marinette he was created by the peacock miraculous. But he can show it.

He can't tell Marinette that he had an abusive father. But he can show it.

He can't tell Marinette that his amok is in the signet ring. But he can show it.

And, if you're wondering, "But...Felix has his amok now. Right? If he's wearing his ring, why doesn't he just give himself back the ability to tell someone?"

Well, that's because, by that time, he couldn't call CPS on his dad, if he's dead.

He couldn't tell Marinette anything directly, because she hates him. He knows that if he just goes up to her and tells her all of this, she might not believe him.

"But that still doesn't explain why Felix wouldn't just give himself free will to talk about it then. And how would Kagami have found out about it?"

Well, I have answers to both of those questions. Felix might not have known about the amok order. Maybe, Colt gives the order to him, but Felix doesn't know that it was an order. Maybe Felix did attempt calling the police, but he found that he couldn't say anything about his problem. Like there was some invisible force holding him back. And he didn't know what it was.

Maybe the amok orders stayed in place, even though Felix put on the ring. He had the power to take those magical barriers away, but he didn't really know they were there. And how could he take something away if he doesn't know that it exists?

And how did Kagami find out about the whole thing? Well, Felix must have given her the peacock brooch. He had her put it on, and sense the amoks that they were wearing. He had her see that both of them were sentimonsters.

"But why didn't Felix give the miraculous to Marinette, then?" Marinette is Ladybug. If Felix just handed over the brooch, she would take it and run, not even bothering to put it on.

So he had to put on the play to tell her.

It's a loophole.

[wormdebut]

25 for the Spotify thing? 👀❤️

HYPE HYPE HYPE. Good Morning Lovely. #25 on my spotify wrapped is If You Can't Hang by Sleeping With Sirens. Enjoy Steve being a confused L-7 Weenie.

----

Met a girl at seventeen, thought she meant the world to me. So, I gave her everything. She turned out to be a cheat…

----

Steve doesn't really do relationships. He'd tried that. Once. In high school.

Nancy Wheeler.

But apparently Steve was bullshit, bullshit, bullshit and replaceable.

So? No relationships.

He had been fine on his own. He went to school, crawled his way to graduating and then he worked. He worked and worked and he met a girl. Thought maybe he could--maybe they could--but, Robin was gay and Steve was Steve.

It had been a few years since Robin had graduated, the year after Steve had and now Steve wasn't alone.

He had Robin. Robin, who loved him even though he was shitty in high school. Robin, who didn't judge him for being scared of--no. He wasn't scared of love. He just didn't believe in it. He had Robin and that was all the love that he needed.

They moved to Chicago. Just Steve and Robin and their shitty two bedroom apartment. Things were good for a while.

But now Robin had Chrissy. Cause Robin was normal, and Robin believed in love.

Steve was happy for them. Really he was.

But Robin had Chrissy and Chrissy had a best friend too. Chrissy had Eddie.

Steve did not like Eddie.

Eddie was loud and brash and impulsive and--

And and and.

----

"Stevie!" Eddie calls from the other side of the apartment door. Steve sighs. Robin was out with Chrissy and somehow Eddie had found his way to the apartment, again.

He pulls the door open, one hand perched on his hip. "Eddie." He deadpans, and Eddie smiles. Toothy and wide. His smile was too big for his stupid pretty face--not, no. Not pretty, because Steve did not like Eddie. It's not the Steve liking guys thing, that's the issue. Steve had figured that shit out about himself a long time ago. He just didn't like Eddie.

Eddie keeps on smiling. Even though Steve treats him like absolute trash, anytime he comes over. Eddie just won't quit. It's like he needs them to be friends. So their best friends are girlfriends? It doesn't mean that Steve and Eddie have to like each other.

"The girls are out, and Chrissy and I's house is boring when it's just me. I thought we could have a beer or smoke or--something?" Eddie asks, pulling his stupid pretty hair in front of his stupid pretty face.

"So--our friends are out on a date and you decided to crash my apartment because your bored?" Steve scoffs. "Don't you have any other friends?"

Something crosses Eddie's face. He looks sad, but only for a moment, before he shakes his head, smirking at Steve. "Don't you?"

Steve would like to say that he slammed the door in Eddie Munson stupid, pretty, face. But he didn't and now they were a few beers and a joint in and Eddie was staring.

"Ed, what? Why are you looking at me like that?" Steve smacks his shoulder and Eddie just takes a drag from his joint, breathing the smoke out right in Steve's face, before cocking his head.

"Looking at you like what, Stevie?"

Steve swings his hand through the air, trying to get the smoke to disperse. Asshole. He huffs, "Looking at me like, you fucking know me."

Eddie smirks, handing the joint over, and Steve takes it, breathes in the smoke. He's closes his eyes, everything is fine. Fine and chill and cool and fine.

When he opens them again, Eddie's eyes are staring right into him. This is why Steve can't fucking stand Eddie Munson.

Eddie is still smirking, big brown eyes sparkling with mirth, when he says, "Don't I?"

Steve tears his own eyes away, stubbing out the joint. "No. You don't. And even if you did, I--I'm not--I'm bullshit." He whispers, and his voice may have cracked and this isn't right. This isn't supposed to happen.

Eddie is soft when he reaches out, running his fingers over the back of Steve's hand. "I don't think so."

Steve should probably pull his hand away. He should, but he doesn't want to.

He sighs, staring at Eddie's hand over his own. "It's you might not, but--it's a long story." He flicks his eyes up. Eddie is still fucking look at him. Into his stupid soul.

"Why don't you tell me about it?" Eddie asks, eyes sparkling. God Steve hates…He doesn't hate Eddie Munson, does he?

"Tell you about what?"

"Everything. Tell me about your life, Steve Harrington. I've got time."

Turns out Steve does do relationships. Well, he does relationship. Turns out, he truly doesn't like Eddie Munson. He loves him.

----

Met a boy at twenty-three, knew he meant the world to me. So, I gave him everything and he did the same for me. Imagine that.

[doubleddenden]

Man fuck Nijisanji and Anycolor.

It really says a lot when

A. 3 vtubers (as of current knowledge) graduated from their agency in just the last couple of months

B. Former alumni that joined another agency, like Vshojo, were genuinely shocked that 1. The managers did their jobs and did them on time, 2. The company cared about their goals and works with them to help reach it while trying to make things as easy as possible for them, and 3. Helped clear up MAJOR tax issues left from (highly implied) Niji.

C. They don't let their talent keep their youtube awards

D. Said company allowed management to bully and harass Selen to the point that she attempted SUICIDE (thankfully she's alive and well now, according to her on her past life twitter account, which she plans to use going forward).

The short of the final straw was that Selen spent $15k on a music video using a song she wanted to cover, and she got permission directly from the original singer (LilyPichu) because she knew it'd probably be a month or more before management approved. Apparently this wasn't good enough, so they privated the video and quietly suspended her for a month after she asked her followers to re-upload the video other channels because a lot of time, money, and effort went into it. After a long while of silence, Niji terminated her for saying things they didn't like about them (mainly the harassment) but framed it as defamation of their reputation, and seems to purposely be pouring gasoline on the fire by implying that she was also being harassed by other Livers of the company (something Doki/Selen did not mention in her tweets), seemingly to start a scapegoat witch hunt to distract from their own failings.

E. Many more issues, including poor financial compensation among others

When you as a company are more concerned with the reputation and revenue of your business and CEO than the ACTUAL LIVES of your employees, you deserve to crash and burn, and your CEO deserves every penny stripped from them and to be tossed to sea without a lifejacket.

I'm not even a Niji fan tbh, and I seem to have the strange habit of coming to watch them right before they announce graduation, POST Niji, or through Hololive collabs- still, as someone in love with the vtubing sphere from the art, talent, rigging, music, and much much more, and as someone who has ALSO dealt with unfair bullying and ALSO almost committed suicide a few times in my life, I am furious- not as a fan, but as a human.

In my opinion, if you're looking to become a vtuber and are maybe considering auditioning for Niji, I would strongly reconsider. Getting your foot in the door is one thing, but they reportedly don't even help their talents that much getting started either. Go indie or try another agency.

As with any business, the health and well-being of an employee is a big indicator of how they will treat you or their other employees. I pity anyone still staying with this company and I hope more talent jumps ship to either pursue other vocations, an indie vtubing career, or join a better agency, because there is something seriously wrong going on here when a vtubing agency has a higher graduation rate than most schools.

Edit: a correction by omission was made after I was made aware of an error by a reblogger. I had said previously that someone claimed NijiJP's statement did not mention the fellow Liver harassment- this was apparently misinformation made by a Niji defender. Line was corrected. If I've made any more errors, please tell me and I will correct it

[elliespuns]

I wanted to ask you this since you definitely understand the tlou characters down to a T 👌🏻How do you think sarah was conceived LMAO. Like, do you think joel and sarah’s mom were already in a relationship for a while, or were they a pretty new couple n all of a sudden she got pregnant. I’m assuming it was an accident and they were using protection, I don’t think joel would be dumb enough to not use protection.

Since joel’s birthday is in September and sarah’s mom got pregnant when he was 18, he must’ve gotten her pregnant after graduating. School in the US ends around May/June, so he would’ve been 17 during graduation. I wonder if he was supposed to go to college but had to leave bc sarah’s mom got pregnant.

I have the feeling he wasn’t planning on going anyways, otherwise he would told ellie at the university that he was supposed to go to college but didn’t bc of sarah. Not to mention, by the time his birthday came when he turned 18, if he was planning on going to college he would’ve already committed to a school since decisions would’ve come out when he was 17 and still a senior in hs. anyways that was more math than i was planning on doing lol but what are you thoughts?

First of all, I love all of this. Such a perfect, thought-through analysis (what do you even need me for, hun?).

I think everything you say makes perfect sense. The only thing I see differently is the "protection" part. I do, on the other hand, think Joel was dumb enough not to use the protection. I don't know why, but something has always told me he's one of the fathers who get their first girlfriend pregnant accidentally as a result of carefree sex and then end up dedicating their whole life to the baby, be it together with her or alone, because this baby is someone now, someone he's created, and what kind of person he would've been if he didn't want it.

Protection or not, both work, I guess. Both meant he got her pregnant by accident. People had limited options and choices back then when it came to unwanted pregnancies, so I think his initial thought was anything but "We need to keep it." despite the panic he felt.

He probably didn't even want a baby, but then he slept on it and realized there was no way back, so he manned up and married his girlfriend in the hope of raising this child together. Which didn't happen because his wife probably couldn't bear all this pressure of being a young mother and left him and Sarah on their own. That's when I think he manned up to the highest of levels because there was literally no one else who would take care of his baby.

What I think is that his wife just left him in the cold. Simple as that. Some people think she died, but that wouldn't make sense with what Joe told Ellie at the university. If his wife died, he'd probably just tell her, like in a good memory of her or something. He was already sharing his feelings about Sarah with Ellie, so he would do the same with his wife. Instead, he seemed like he didn't want to talk about his wife. I've always felt like it had nothing to do with being hard for him, but rather because this topic was not something he wanted to share with a kid.

Which makes me think his wife either left him and Sarah without saying a thing or they had a fight (she could be problematic, maybe not handling motherhood that well), and he told her to leave, knowing that he'd be a better dad to Sarah alone. 

I think Joel's wife was his girlfriend back when he got her pregnant. Maybe even his first serious girlfriend. That's probably why they decided to get married. Maybe they were even forced into marriage by their parents, because you know what it was like back then. You had to be married to have a kid, because if you had a kid without a marriage, you'd be looked down on.

I will forever wonder what Joel's wife's name was, though. I just hope it wasn't Sarah.