#posting now instead of forgetting it in a draft per usual

[unstablemotions]

Hey, you! You who suspect you might have PTSD, DID or another trauma disorder, but you think you didn't experience trauma "bad enough" to have developed a mental disorder from it? Let me suggest looking at it differently:

"If there's smoke, there's fire"

Do you experience symptoms of PTSD, such as hypervigilance, trouble sleeping, flashbacks, memory problems, dissociation, ect? Then yes, it was "bad enough". Maybe you don't remember anything "really bad" happening or you don't "feel like" it affects you, but listen to your body. The body remembers and the body doesn't care if you think it is "stupid" or "weak" to have a panic attack when someone touches you or that you still have nightmares about that thing you saw when you were 4 years old

Trauma isn't what happened. Trauma is the reaction to what happened. So what I'm trying to say is that if the reason you think you can't have PTSD/DID/OSDD/ect is because you didn't go through anything horrific enough for that, then maybe forget about what happened to you for a moment and just look at the evidence your body and mind are showing. And then, most importantly, be compassionate with yourself. You're going through a lot and it's gonna be okay in the end. Take it easy, okay? <3

[sunaluv]

hey!!! big big fan! your writing is amazing!

what if you did a you should come get your man but instead make it ‘you should come get your reader’

i just want to see characters get jealous basically lol. hope you’re doing well !!

🗣️getting rid of my drafts, drop some more prompts in my inbox.

Pairings: kaiser, reo

———————

KAISER

as the game ended and the fans started to filter out of the stadium, you hung back waiting for your boyfriend. now that the seating area was almost empty, kaiser could finally talk to you.

he called out to you as he jogged over. “did you enjoy the game, my love?” you took his outstretched hand and climbed onto the field.

“of course I did,” you swung your interlocked hands. “you were amazing as per usual.”

the two of you chatted aimlessly, walking around the field as kaiser started to come down from his post-game high.

"alright, I'm gonna go freshen up and get my stuff," he kissed the back of your hand. "wait for me?"

you nodded, eyeing the man as he vanished down the hall.

"i can feel you staring!" he called without looking back, making you chuckle.

deciding to be useful, you gathered kaisers left belongings off the bench and started to make your way towards the stadium exit.

"you kaiser's girl?" a voice from behind you.

startled, you turned around to see a guy dressed in the ubers uniform. you don't recognise him and you've met all your boyfriend's teammates, so you deduced that this guy is probably a rookie in training.

"that's me," you smiled politely, "can i help you with anything?"

"you sure can help me with something," he smirked, rubbing his chin. "for starters, you can tell me how that egomaniac managed to bag a gorgeous girl like yourself,"

how he managed to both complement you and diss you (indirectly) you found quite fascinating, but you weren't having any of it.

"he was a real sweetheart." emphasis on the sweetheart. "I'm sure if you use a more friendly approach you can get whoever it is your looking for."

the guy clearly didn't seem to get the hint. "so you're into nice guys, huh. why are ya' with michael then. guy's an ass."

"'guy' also thinks you should show a little more respect to your superiors, rookie."

smirking, you turned around to find your knight in shining armour eyeing the rookie with a smirk.

"my fault boss," his attitude was nonchalant. "keep a tight leash on this one though, or else i might get tempted again."

he smirked, trying to barge shoulders with kaiser as he passed, grunting under his breath when he didn't move an inch.

"you should go fight him, defend my honour." you nudged his side once he was out of earshot.

he chortled loudly, "you're such an instigator, I'm not fighting him."

"you'll do it if you love me?" you questioned blinking up at him with innocent eyes. the things you would do you see michael throw hands with someone.

his big hand pushed your face away from him. "ill do you one better and make his training with the ubers unbearable, how does that sound, hmmmm?"

a pout formed on your lips as you sighed. "...ill take it i guess."

REO

the clock has just passed midnight, but the party your boyfriend had invited you to was at its peak. enjoying the buzz of the alcohol that was once in your empty glass, you headed over to the bar.

"hey," you flagged the bartender down, "could i get a refill on this please?

the neon blue lights of the bar made the sparkle in his eye more evident when he caught sight of you.

"whatever the pretty lady wants," he brushed his fingers against yours when taking your glass. "what can i do for you?"

the brief contact and the intense eye contact quickly fought off the oncoming buzz. "the pretty lady is taken, but she is willing to forget about this if she could get a pornstar?" you offered.

"oh you can get a pornstar alright," he winked. "give me a sec, sweetheart."

alarm bells rang in your head as his back was towards you, meaning your glass was out of sight.

there was no way in hell you were gonna drink whatever he put in front of you.

he returned a short while after, sliding your drink across the bar.

"you know, if you wanted, i could give you another pornstar you'll really enjoy." he pulled back your glass when you reached out for it.

"no thanks. boyfriend." your smile came tight and fake.

"come onnnn, princess," he smiled wider. "aren't you having so much fun at this party? spend the night with me and i can make sure you can get into all the exclusive parties you want."

"she'll pass." came mikage's voice from your side. he wrapped an arm around you, in an attempt to smooth your tense muscles as he dragged the glass back over with two fingers.

the bartender's face hardened, "the lady can speak for herself, thanks bro."

"m' not your bro." reo's brows furrowed. "you're making my girl uncomfortable, did you put anything in her drink?"

the guy shook his head wordlessly, prompting reo to sip the glass.

"wait, what if-"

"don't worry, sweetheart," his hand dropped to stroke your thigh comfortingly. "it's clean, but I'm sorry this happened to you. i should've noticed sooner."

you relaxed with his touch, "it's not your fault, reo. sometimes people can't handle rejection."

"i'm right here ya know?"

two pairs of eyes stared the guy down, one neutral, one daring.

rolling his eyes, mikage turned to face the guy. "between you and me, you might need to find another bribe to pull ladies with because i can tell you now this will be the last gig you'll ever do."

the guy gulped under reo's intense gaze.

"alright man, in understand the ladys' taken, you don't need to go threatening my job."

"you threatened your won job once you tried it with her,"

you placed a hand on his arm as a reminder to be rational.

"i'm sorry baby," he pecked your forehead. "you ready to go home?"

you nodded.

[callipraxia]

Things I Learned This Morning:

1) Using print instead of script, which would be faster but less tidy, I may hand-write not far under 1300 words per hour when things are going well. (The exact number was 1267 words)

2) My brain harbors an irrational hatred for the number 4 apparently? (I kept almost skipping it and having to go back and erase the little number above fourth words because I wrote 4 as 5, for instance, going straight from 223 to 225 before I caught myself.)

3) Taking a pencil and individually numbering every word you wrote takes a really long time.

4) Apparently my brain also cannot handle writing a series of numbers that consistently go above two digits. I transpose digits, forget the first digit, write 8 instead of 3, write 5 instead of 8, write 2 instead of 9….I made it through the first 1000 but counted the remainder in blocks of 1-100 in the interests of staying tolerably sane.

5) My print is indeed much more legible than my script, but also, oww, my elbow feels like it’s about to crack right now and my hand feels all twisted up inside, ow ow ow.

(Backstory: I’ve been stuck in a rut for a while, so I decided to say “what the heck” and try to force myself to write a rough draft of one of my fanfic ideas for NaNoWriMo. I’m printing because I am currently Resolved to write a complete rough draft and then revise it, all before posting anything. Then, in theory, I’ll post it by chapter on an actual *posting schedule*. However, since I have never managed to muster the kind of discipline needed to keep working on a project nobody has seen and praised some part of for that long in my entire life…we’ll see. Plus, it might be easy enough to make it to the word count minimum today, but I only just finished the setup phase of the first scene, getting Pacifica from “the alarm clock rang” and through “Pacifica reflects on what mornings in Northwest Manor were like compared to her new life” to the point of “Pacifica has gotten out of bed.” That kind of writing is super-easy for me, but the kinds where things actually happen can be…much slower going. Which means I’ll have to apply even *more* discipline to make quotas on some days. So basically I, a deeply scattered and undisciplined person, am basically attempting to overhaul my personality for at least a month, lol. Wish me luck, folks….

For my GF peeps, I hope that you’ll enjoy the results if this project does amount to anything, even though it is a bit of a departure from my ‘usual’ material. You see, I have a lifelong, deep-seated love for books set in schools/based around school years, and I have decided to combine that with my desire to write some post-canon material. We’re picking up very shortly after the finale, with the first day of school in Gravity Falls - the Pineses should have some involvement, here and there, but mostly via phone and Internet. I’m sufficiently addicted to the “greater scope” that I don’t think I‘ll end up with something that is purely YA or a “girls’ book,” but it will involve focusing on more girls and therefore “girl stuff” than canon/anything I have written previously - Pacifica, Wendy, and Candy are all projected to be narrators, with Grenda also at least being an important character and possibly a fourth narrator. Compare to FWJB, where the narrators consisted of ten dudes, Bill, and Mabel…and although I put him in his own category, Bill does seem to use he/him pronouns when interacting with English-speaking mortals, and so one could very reasonably argue that the narrators consisted of eleven dudes plus Mabel. Soos may well get some narrator time, but this one also seems on course to primarily focus on the kid characters. Gulp. We’ll see how it goes….)

[writingdotcoffee]

#172: The Winter Slump is Here

It's that time of the year again. The colours of autumn have faded away. It's cold and wet. Barely 3 p.m., and it's getting dark outside. I've been working a lot throughout the year, and I'm tired. I find it difficult to get any writing done these days.

It happens every year — my winter slump. Usually, it comes around late January or early Feb. But 2020 has been a hell of a year, and the slump came early.

I took this week off at work and spent it with my family. We didn't go anywhere because of the various levels of lockdown going on everywhere. Staying put turned out to be pretty nice.

Normally, I would be sitting at my desk, beating myself up for failing to keep my writing routine going. What's wrong? Why can't I make it work?

However, this year, I have my Writing Analytics stats, so I looked at those instead. I built the editor and started using it for all my writing in early August. Since then, I wrote and revised some 93,000 words.

Here's the full chart:

Hang on a minute 🤔. 93,000 words in just over four months?! That doesn't sound like a failure at all. That's right. Because it's pretty damn good. Considering how shit a year 2020 was, and how many other things I've got on my plate, I'm surprised that I wrote anything at all.

Here are some more stats if you're curious:

I wrote just about 1,400 words per hour when drafting and about 850 words when doing revisions. On average, I wrote 520 words, revised 180 words and spent 51 minutes writing every day. It took me 114 hours in total to write those 93,000 words.

Out of the 133 days since the last week of July, I wrote on 108 of them and skipped 25.

I'm the most productive on Mondays, Tuesdays and the weekend 🔥. The worst writing days are Fridays.

Writing slumps are deceptive. When you're in one, you tend to forget all the great work that you've done before. Everything seems to be crumbling down, but that just isn't the case at all.

That's why tracking your words is so important. It keeps you accountable day-to-day. And it puts things in perspective when your writing isn't going so well.

I did track my words in the past too, but it was all over various documents, notebooks and planners. If I had a spreadsheet, I kept forgetting to update it. It was a nightmare. In the end, all those numbers are lost and forgotten. I have no idea how many words I wrote two, three or four years ago.

That's one of the reasons why I built Writing Analytics — to give writers easy access to all their past writing metrics over time. The editor tracks all those things automatically — no need to think about it. You will find them when you need them the most.

Writing slumps are temporary. You wrote before, and you will write again.

For me, this year's winter slump is different. Although I'm in a rut, I'm honestly feeling pretty good right now. I know I should be writing, but if I don't get anything else done in 2020, it would have been a decent year regardless.

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Past Editions

#171: Shun the Nonbelievers, November 2020

#170: Comparisonitis, November 2020

#169: Free Writing Planner and Word Counter, November 2020

#168: Decisions, decisions, decisions, November 2020

#167: Social Media for Writers, November 2020

[side-shawty]

What the Tech?

Fandom: DC

Type: one-shot

Prompt/Summary: Damian Wayne with a quirky, tech-savvy girl.

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Reader

Requested? YES by Anon

This is an old old old request that I found in my drafts when I had a different fic account and I figured I’d share it with all of you. I was too shy to post things like this back then but now I’m more than happy to. (I couldn't find the og request so that's what it is lol)

-Duckie

Stupid Hackers.

Technically speaking it wasn’t exactly Damian’s fault that his katana had practically sliced Tim’s laptop in half. He should have never been working so close to the training area in the first place.

So now here he was, spending his free period in the library grumbling at his laptop as he attempted to break the codes that Tim had put on it as his way of revenge.

That was when you walked in. As per usual, you were spending your free period working on a new coding program in hopes of impressing the judges at the Wayne Tech contest next month. You always impressed the judges. However, it became harder and harder to work with Damian Wayne cursing under his breath and slamming on keys.

With a sigh you stood up, dark curls swishing in your face with the speed, and waltzed over to him.

You put a hand on the desk he was working at and leaned over the back of the computer, “What exactly did that laptop do to you?” You questioned looking curiously at your fellow senior.

“And what does it matter to you?” He asked without ever looking up at you.

“It matters because I can feel your frustration from the other side of the library, Damian Wayne.”

At the use of his full name the young heir finally looked up at you. This was your first time seeing him so close since the week-long project you did together freshman year. Since then it had been distance looks from the other side of the classroom and your stupid school girl crush came back ten-fold.

He was no longer the baby-faced 14-year-old and puberty had hit him like a truck. His face was all angles, blue eyes, and tan olive skin with a head of black hair that Y/N wanted to run her fingers through.

As Y/N cleared her throat and stood up straight again she failed to realize that Damian was having the same train of thought. He thought of how much she had filled out in all the right places and how she had gone from cute to dangerously sexy in the past few years—even in the school uniform. Her dark skin stood out against the pristine white of her button-down and her curls were a casually organized mess.

He cleared his throat, throwing a playboy smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Y/N Y/L/N, just the person I need. You’re good with computers right?”

You rolled your eyes, “Well I’d hope so considering I am the head of the computer club. What do you need?”

“One of my many idiot brothers has decided to put a series of codes and viruses on my computer and on it, I have a paper that’s due at midnight. Mind lending a hand,” he asked with a voice that could have made you rob a bank if he so desired. Walt, was he flirting with you?

“I’m sure if you just apologize and ask nicely he’d remove everything,” Y/N told moving around the table and leaning over slightly to have a better took at the screen.

“You don’t know my brother,” Damian scoffed, “he’d make me grovel and I refuse to ever have to stoop to that humiliating level,” he said, nose in the air and crossed arms.

You sighed, “Well move over and let me see what the damage is,” you motioned him to switch over to the next chair whilst you took his seat and got straight to work.

As time ticked by the awkwardness that had settled in the silence was driving Y/N crazy so she stared to ask Damian questions while she worked and soon enough he began to ask too. The awkwardness was long forgotten by the time the bell interrupted Damian’s next question about animals.

“Well if you have a last period class I can finish up here. I have computer graphics but I’m excused for today,” Y/N told him.

“It’s fine,” Damian replied, too quickly before he cleared his throat and regained his composure, “I have history but Mrs. James is so old she’ll forget to take attendance again.”

“Okay, well in that case maybe we should take a little break,” you stood and stretched all of your limbs exposing just a bit more leg that the young man couldn’t help but stare at as you went back into a standing position and held your hand out to him. He took it almost instantly and felt a warm electricity in his hand and spread all through him. you gave him a warm smile before walking to the vending machines just outside of the library.

“Pick anything you want, this one’s on me,” you said with a wink and never let go of his hand as you fished a debit card from your breast pocket.

Damian got an energy bar and you got a pack of skittles, your hands were intertwined until you sat down again and Damian felt an immediate loss of warmth.

You were about to start working again when you froze, “Good lord Damian is your brother so kind of brainiac level hacker? He put like fifteen more locks on it while I left,” You gave a heavy sigh and leaned far back in your chair, silently counting to ten before pulling eyedrops from your bag, using them, throwing your curls into a messy bun and cracking your knuckles.

He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, “Maybe I should just rewrite the paper.”

You laughed and patted his shoulder reassuringly, “Don’t worry I can help.”

And with that, you stood to get your abandoned laptop from its place at the next table over just as the bell ending the final class of the day sounded.

You and Damian looked to each other in question.

“Do you, uh, wanna finish this back at my place?” Damian asked bashfully with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No!” you answered too quickly, and it took everything for the Wayne heir not to flinch, “Um, I mean, we can just go to my house. I live closer and, uh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” it was your turn to look sheepish as Damian smiled softly.

Not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable Damian said, “Okay, I’ll drive.”

And that’s how it started. Every day you and Damian would meet up during free period and then after last class (if either of you went) he’d drive you home. His excuse was because he insisted that the beginnings of October were much too cold to walk home in a skirt and tights.

You couldn’t argue and you didn’t really want to.

During the daily meet-ups, Damian couldn’t help but notice the little things about you, like how you never wore the uniform tie and seemed to have a different color or patterned one every day. How you loved to change up the style of your curly hair as much as you could.

One day after school you asked Damian if he could drive you to the hair solan instead of home and when he asked why you saw a glint of sadness in his eyes. Why would you want to change anything about those beautiful curls?

But when you told him you were going to get box braids he seemed much happier. He even stayed with you for all the hours it took to finish them. This was when Damian knew he was in too deep, going as far as checking on your house during patrol and never telling the others why he’d stopped coming home immediately after school (or earlier).

Damian was happier and he knew the reason was you. He was happy with knowing that fact, and he told himself being your friend was more than enough. He was wrong.

Damian usually got to the library first but he got caught up talking to Colin and Maps on his way and when he got there your attention was occupied by one of the football players. He was obviously flirting with you and Damian hated the feeling that this gave him. But some of the tension fell when he realized how desperate you seemed to get out of that situation.

So Damian sprung into action and approached the two of you. You caught his eye over the jock’s shoulder. A look of utmost relief on your face and Damian cooly slid in and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Everything alright here, Y/N,” Damian asked as you placed a warm hand on his back in gratitude.

“Fine, Wayne, I was just asking Y/N here about her plans after the game on Friday,” the jock, Brandon, said smiling at you and doing his best to ignore Damian altogether.

Damian’s back muscles tensed beneath the white button-down at his words, “I’m afraid she’ll be otherwise occupied,” Damian replied and after being friends with him since the beginning of the school year you could read him much better now. But this was something different, like a mix of anger, and annoyance and…jealousy?

But that was crazy. Right? Why would Damian be jealous, it made no sense. Unless...

“Well, that's too bad. I guess we’ll catch up some other time, yeah?” He asked and you only nodded with a tight smile on your lips before Brandon turned and left. But Damian never let go of your shoulders.

You looked up at him but his eyes were glued to the spot that Brandon once stood, glaring.

“Damian,” you said looking to get his attention.

And when he turned to you, all of the tension instantly left him and he found himself lost in your Y/E/C orbs, kind face showing nothing but concern for him. He took in all of your features, from the polka dot hair tie to the electric blue tie tucked beneath her sweater vest. He realized he’d been staring for too long, but couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” You asked and he smiled softly at you. A smile only you ever got to see.

“No it’s perfect,” he almost whispered.

Though the blush wasn’t prominent the heat worked its way into your cheeks anyway.  

“Good. Now quick question.”

“Mmm?” he hummed.

“We’re you jealous?” You asked with raised eyebrows and his eyes widened in the slightest.

He sputtered just a bit and released his hold of your shoulders in favor of standing across from you.

Damian didn’t look at you as he asked, “Does it matter if I was?”

You stood shocked for a few seconds at his earnestness before replying in a teasing voice.

“Damian Wayne was jealous over little old me? Wow wait until the papers hear about this one,” you said and he finally turned to you at that.

“I might have a better story for them,” he told you, and his sudden mischievous aura sent a tingle down your back.

“And what would that be?” You asked.

“This,” he said before unexpectedly closing the distance between the two of you in a sweet kiss. He tasted like peppermint and you were quick to melt into him as he placed his hands on your waist.

When you finally pulled back he was smiling and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“Oh yeah, Vicky Vale would have a field day with that one.”

[aces-of-the-center-court]

Sibling Headcanons

hello dearies, we hope you’re still around! we’re so sorry for not updating for a long time now, as per previous update, our lives has taken a change and we’re really busy with our work but thank you for all those who are still here and thank you to the new followers who have joined us too! this post has been in our drafts for quite a while now so we’ve decided to finally complete it! we have more requests that we’ve completed that will be scheduled to come up in the next few days or weeks so please keep a look a look out. :) - mod sunny & raine.

Aone Takanobu:

When the both of you were younger, you two got along well being the non-problematic sibling he was

Non-confrontational, Aone always gave in to you whenever conflicts arose and even took the blame for you once, so you did the same for him from then on, then he returned the favour, and the cycle repeated

Now, much like how he is at school and club activities, he does not speak much at home unless necessary

You would always be looking out for him because you’re worried about him being taken advantage of his kindness since you know he’s such a softie on the inside (though his looks did manage to fend off crooks so far…)

He too, would quietly look out for you and show his concern in his own ways, mostly through actions rather than words – silently putting a glass of hot chocolate on your table to encourage you when you’re studying for the exams, or simply staying by your side when you’re feeling upset and offer his shoulder as comfort

Very, very observant so if he realizes that something’s up, he will try his best to help you in any way albeit awkwardly

He would hope that you rely on him a bit more even if you’re older and really likes it when you ask him for help or just depend on him since not many are able to do so outside of the volleyball club (as most are scared of him), so he finds comfort in it.

Oikawa Tooru:

Annoying brother

When he was younger, he would want to know what you are up to, what happened during the day or if there were any interesting gossips or things that happened

But he grew out of his annoying habit, so now he would simply ask ‘how was your day’

Very perceptive, so if he senses something is up, he will try to get it out of you in a casual and non-annoying manner while still retaining kindness in his intention (works 90% of the time)

Although a little clumsy, he would be quite the reliable brother so you would find it easy to confide in him, whether it be schoolwork or personal problems

Mistaken as his significant other by his fangirls is no uncommon occurrence, a hindrance

As his fangirls transcend even outside of school, if you two are spotted together by any of them, Oikawa would calmly introduce you as his sibling to protect you

Sometimes irritating, sometimes affectionate, to the point it sometimes grosses you out when he pours his excessive love while in good mood

He is also protective, though he never shows it so that he does not appear uncool or annoying, though on the inside, Oikawa would be extra protective of you

In the event anyone was to be mean to you or harass you, if the word gets to him, he will not hesitate to show them a side of his that he does not unleash often.

Yachi Hitoka:

Though you were mostly the one protecting Yachi when you both were younger, Yachi gradually grew up to become more and more dependable

Very supportive! Be it in club activities, studies or even relationships

Just know not to seek advice from her in terms of relationships as she has no experience in this area, so she would be more concerned about your potential partner and end up asking tons of questions instead

She overthinks and worries about you a lot – whether you’re mixing around with the wrong circle of people, if you’re getting bullied etc. – and constantly fears for the safety of your life when you’re not with her so much that you always have to assure her

Even though she knows she is lacking a lot, Yachi would be the type to want to improve herself to become a better sibling you can depend on

Gentle, takes good care of you, and never forgets your birthday, though she may sometimes give you presents of acquired tastes – usually handmade, such as strange looking charms (that is supposed to protect the person carrying it)

Occasionally, especially during the summer, you would witness Yachi being lethargic and lifeless  — a side that not many has seen

Will help with your studies often and be your personal tutor during examinations period

Despite her timidity, if you were to ever be in danger (not as likely as she would fear), Yachi would most definitely protect you with her life, even if it means sacrificing and beheading herself (she would imagine these scenarios — very often).

[justacomedy-archived]

So, I just wanted to make a post that can help better explain how my blog functions activity wise! Please take a moment to read!

My activity here can and will be sporadic at times. I will never force myself to write if my muse isn’t in the right place as you all deserve quality replies. The weekends are usually my lowest activity days. Firstly:  I have real life responsibilities and other hobbies that require my time and attention. I am a wife and a mother: I’ve got my hands full. I also tend to fall ill very frequently and suffer with random bouts of severe depression that may affect my activity and speed. I often try to post an explanation for my lack of activity, but I don’t always do this because it happens so often and I don’t care to post negative things every other day. If I need to take a few days to myself, I will make a post about it. As stated in my rules: I do tend to favorite threads, so a select few of my partners may get replies faster and more often than others. It’s nothing personal at all, but good OOC communication plays a major factor in this and sometimes, I just have more muse for the events in one thread than another in that particular given time. (again, it’s nothing personal towards anyone or their writing.) Long term threads with me are more likely if we talk often and plot often. It’s hard to keep muse for threads if I have to question whether my partner is even enjoying or is excited for our thread. So a comment here and there about the thread in the tags is much appreciated if you’re not much of a fan of chatting through dms. When my drafts are backed up, I typically pick and choose through replies. So this means, I do not reply to drafts in the order I receive them. Sometimes, this process can be slow and I may not be able to get through all of my drafts in one day, so if you see that I’ve stopped posting replies and yours didn’t get posted, it will most likely be replied to the next time I get on to write. I save your reply into my drafts the moment I see the notification. There will be some times when I’m very active. These times, I will be quick to get replies out, my drafts are under control and if you’re lucky, you may even get two or more replies to our thread from me in one day. Though I tend to aim for one reply to thread per day as I have quite a few now! There will be times when I may only respond to my long threads. Other times, I my only reply to my short threads. This typically depends on how I’m feeling that day- if I feel like I can’t keep focus long enough to reply to longer threads, I’ll do a bunch of short threads instead. I may just do long threads and run out of time to write to my short ones. There may be days where I only reply to one or two threads and that’s it: This could be because I didn’t have a lot of time to write or my muse to write suddenly plummeted.  There will also be times where I just can’t write at all. I suffer from frequent fatigue and sometimes, I barely have the energy to get out of bed and doing regular daily activities are a chore enough and writing will not happen on these days. If I fall into a depressive mood, I tend to try to distract myself with house work and video games. Or sometimes I just simply don’t feel like writing and that’s okay.  I like to try to queue up a few things in between: aesthetic posts, memes, desire posts, wanted plots, etc. But this isn’t always guaranteed as I forget sometimes or I haven’t felt like hunting for things to queue. I think that sums it up. I just wanted to make a more detailed post about my activity as more people start to follow me. I’ll probably reblog this post a few times in the future as a simple reminder/for the new folks. Thank you so much for your patience!

[throwing-roses-into-the-abyss]

Since The People have Spoken, here's a post about some of my plants that are struggling, why I think they're struggling, what I'm trying to do about it, and some general advice.

This is very long so read more under the cut!

First, some pictures:

Top: rattlesnake calathea. Two: silver pothos. Three: anthurium & orchid in semi-hydroponics. Bottom: spiderplant.

As you can see, none of them look quite right.

Basically all plants need 3 things to thrive: sunlight, water, and nutrients. The tricky thing is getting the amounts per plant right. Different plants have different needs, depending on what kind of plant you got, where it got grown as a wee babe, what the conditions in the space its in are like, etc.

So here's the Big Issue. Most plant people will fall into one of two categories: underwaterers and overwaterers. Basically most people either forget to water/don't water enough, or water way too much. I'm in the second category. Overwatering, especially in pots without drainage, means the roots end up having 'wet feet'. There are some plants that can survive this, and even some that like it or need it to survive. Most plants however, will end up getting root rot, which is exactly as it says on the tin: the roots are starting to rot. This is the problem for most of the plants in my pictures, too. Root rot is notoriously hard to fix, and for some plants it will just be too late no matter what I try. Overwatering also causes all kinds of fungi issues (I once accidentally had little mushrooms growing in a plant container) and pest problems. 

In this post, I’ll especially focus on overwatering, since that’s my biggest problem and also the one I’m most familiar with. You can also have underwatering, sunlight, pests, or nutrient deficiency issues, though. Sunlight is generally easy to fix: just put the plant somewhere else. Nutrient deficiency is hard, and for that one you really need to look at specific symptoms and see what to do about it. Pests are also hard, and how to deal with them depends on what you have. 

(btw, mold on the surface soil is not really a problem, but if you want to get rid of it just put some cinnamon on it.)

SO, the best way to find out if you have waterlogging issues/ root rot is by 1) checking if the soil dries out at all in between waterings, and 2) by completely pulling the plant out and actually checking its roots. Healthy roots are firm and don't smell funky. Rotting roots tend to be an unhealthy colour (usually brown/black but it depends on the plant), they can be slimy, they squish when you press them, and sometimes have a rotting smell.

(If you *underwater*, plants tend to wilt and become pale, and when you do water, the water will often pool on the surface and take a while to sink through. Healthy soil immediately absorbs water.)

Now for the calathea: mine has root rot, and I had it on the windowsill for maybe 2 days (spoiler: it hated it). This one likes to have moisture in the air but not around the roots. It doesn't like full sunlight, drafts, or being moved. They're very fussy plants, and I wouldn't recommend them to a beginner. For this one, I recently changed out the old, waterlogged soil, and replaced it with fresh soil mixed with perlite, which helps drain soil. I also put gravel in the bottom of the main container, so I can put water in there instead and have that evaporate for some moisture, although I'm not doing that right now. I also moved it back to its old spot, away from my window. It is growing a new leaf, and all the other ones are still upright, so I hope it'll bounce back!

The silver pothos is a plant originally from the forests of Thailand, and it generally likes indirect light, enough water but not too much, good drainage, and some space. Mine, unsurprisingly, probably has root rot. I'll admit I've been super lazy with this one, since I basically just cut it up a bit, shoved some new soil on top of the old soil, put the cuttings in, and put it right back where it was. Pro tip: don't do that????????? I should at some point (soon) put it in a well draining container with completely fresh soil.

I frankly don't know what's up with the spiderplant. Could be root rot, the plant could be root bound (this happens when it outgrows the container and the soil is basically replaced by roots). I haven't really looked into this one yet, I've really just laughed at how stupid it looks like this.

Now the anthurium & orchid: I've always struggled with these species, they've never quite worked well for me. It happens, everyone has plant species they vibe with and ones they really don't vibe with. The anthurium was dying already (root rot! Is anyone even surprised anymore at this point lmao), and I had it in full hydroponics (aka just water) for a bit before moving on to this as an experiment in s/h, because I'd been watching youtube videos and wanted to try. It's uh. Not working. Although as long as some of the leaves are still standing upright I'm going to keep trying.

The orchid was really just a victim of my experiments. It was doing fine before this. Again, as long as the leaves look alright I'll keep trying, but I've been fully prepared for these two to die since the moment I started this experiment.

The lessons learned and that I want to impart on you young grasshoppers:

1) use inner containers and outer containers, and make sure the inner ones have lots of holes in the bottom, or just have an outer pot with a saucer. Remember to keep the size of the plant in mind: pots that are too big hold more water and will cause root rot more easily. Too small and the plant will basically suffocate.Throw out the water that's drained out of the bottom, since the soil's probably saturated and leaving it will just cause issues.

2) look up what kind of plant you have and what it generally likes in terms of water and sunlight. Some species will literally burn their leaves in full sunlight, some need lots of sunshine to thrive. Some like moist soil and lots of humidity (jungle plants), some need it dry (most succulents/cacti)

3) try to pay attention to whether you tend to underwater or overwater, and instead of trying to change yourself, change which kind of plants you focus on. I know I overwater, and I know monsteras and banana plants love lots of water and thus love me too. Get succulents / drought resistant plants if you underwater.

4) some plants will just die even if you do everything right. It happens to the best of us. Chuck it out and try again. I promise it's okay ❤

Hope this dispels the idea that I'm some sort of plant wizard, and that it helped someone out! Of course there can be other issues than watering, but this is by far the most common issue and definitely the first thing to check if there's a problem.

[saemi-the-writer]

Caretaker AU - AU writings and montages dump

Congratulations to @caretaker-au creators for finishing their story! (and they are more bonuses on the way, yeeeees~ )

I took the time to re-read it entirely and found some drafts about it (AU of an AU, same verse as this parody I did a while back) and more montages about with their comic in my folders. Oh dear! xD

 I am posting them all -in chronologically order of the events- undercut. It’s unfinished, but I MIGHT wrap it up if inspiration strikes again xD

Note: I WROTE THIS 4 YEARS AGO. I included some of my own headcanons in there, like Frisk’s full name, which is different from Caretaker AU’s canon.

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

Chara re-winded the video for the umpteenth time, zooming on another zone to study their adoptive child’s attitude closely. After slowing significantly the speed of the video playback, they launched it again.

 Frisk was drawing quietly, sitting on a chair at some distance from them -Asriel, Chara and the new scientist- when the incident happened, when that clumsy assistant unwillingly created a potential destructive weapon with that huge (and heavy!) cylinder. The thing had taken off like a rocket and bounced back on the lab floor, then went to a wall only to rebound against it and then on another area and so on, creating panic inside; the image jumped as it happened, it was a miracle the security camera had not been destroyed during the incident. Their child startled at the commotion, then looked at the rocket with wide and frightened eyes before taking cover under a table -as Asriel and themselves had shouted them to while dodging the dangerous thing and trying to find shelter too- and stayed there a moment, their gaze following the cylinder in fear. Their gaze scanned around a moment and suddenly, Frisk’s expression passed from scared to resolute. The child got on their feet and got out of their hiding spot.

 Chara paused, went back a bit and de-zoomed to determine the cause of this abrupt change.

 The “rocket” was heading towards them. Chara had not noticed it at the time, too busy shouting at the staff to either stop that damn thing or evacuate everyone, whereas Asriel seemed to have seen it, given his expression.

 Play.

 Frisk had rushed to grasp a tool on the table; luckily a big one, like a baseball bat and placed themselves on the path, steadying their position. They had called out for Asriel then, as the rocket drew near, the child’s grasp on their makeshift weapon tightened and they swung with all their might. The hit sent the cylinder flying away however the impact casted Frisk backwards too. Fortunately, Chara had been there to catch them. The two had rolled on the ground while Asriel used his magic: plants grew in an accelerated manner under the tiling and grabbed the damn thing, slowing its mad race and their husband stood as if he were about to catch a baseball ball thrown at him. The impact had him slipping quite a distance backwards, but he did not lose his balance.

 Pause. Zoom.

 The damage on the cylinder… Frisk really did that.

Granted, the tool had been solid (fortunately for them all) but still. It was impressive. And they were only eleven.

Frisk had always been a child who had a tremendous energy and a strong will, also full of stamina, way sportier than them and Asriel together… which had forced the two of them to train harder to keep up with their little one but now was not the time to dwell on that.

 Chara went back again, paused at a precise moment and zoomed.

That look of determination.

Could it be?

 Chara had lost their ability to control time and shape the world about three years ago, which had been a great loss for them, they had to be even more careful with any decision. Maybe Frisk was now the one to hold on this power…

 But Frisk was their child.

 This happened because they had been in danger.

 Frisk had accomplished this in order to protect them, surely, they would have done the same for Asriel.

 And they were strong, oh so much stronger than Chara had thought.

 So much potential.

 Chara leaned back on their chair; a smile made its way to their face.

 “Time to start your training, dearest.”

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

Convincing Asriel had been easier than they had anticipated, the human Prince did not even have to use their prepared speech.

“I understand. The sooner they will know how to defend themselves, the better.” Asriel had sighed when Chara announced him they intended to train Frisk to fight, taking them by surprise. “We don’t know what kind of human could fall next, and it could be sooner than we think… I don’t want Frisk to be unprepared in any case, I wish they will never have to use their skills into a fight but-“ he had then stared at his husband intensely. “Just like I said the day I gave you your knife: if it saves their life, it’s worth having it.”

Chara had felt their heart raced slightly at this declaration and planted a gentle kiss on their Prince’s cheek, both pleased and proud of how wise he had become.

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

 “Frisk, you do not have any class in the afternoon today, do you?”

 Frisk looked at their mother and shook their head as they were chewing on their toast.

 “Today is Wednesday, we never have any class in the afternoon on Wednesdays.” they precised after swallowing. “But I have a training with my team from two to three, why?” the child seized their bowl of hot cocoa and started drinking from it, their eyes on their parent.

 “Three? Then you should be home around half past three.” Chara mused with a short hum. “Good.” They put their cup down to stare at Frisk with a smile. “Following the recent events in the laboratory, your father and I have taken an important decision.”

 The youngest Dreemur blinked, glancing from one of their parents to the other. This seemed serious. Worry raised in the child when they noticed how tensed their father seemed to be, almost grave. Was it because they had acted recklessly in the lab?

 “Am I in trouble?” they asked in a small voice.

 It was their mother’s turn to blink, Asriel and them exchanged confused looks.

 “No, not at all.” the two replied together.

 “Unless you have something to hide.” Chara added with a raised an eyebrow.

 “No, no!” Frisk quickly shook their head. “I thought you were mad because I put myself in danger when I tried to stop that rocket.”

 “Well, you certainly did.” The adult human remarked, joining their hands under their chin. “But you also successfully helped saving us all from it. Which leads to our point.”

 There was a short silence.

 “Frisk, you know Mom is the Caretaker of the Ruins, our protector against any potential evil humans.” Asriel gently patted his child’s head. “Well, someday, you will have to help them in their duty. And for that, you need to be trained.”

 Asriel gazed at their spouse, Frisk did the same.

 “We are going to teach you how to fight.” Chara straightened their back. “And I wish to give you your first lesson today.”

 “Fight?” Frisk repeated in a whisper, tensing slightly.

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

“This is not a game, Fragana.”

Frisk tensed. When their parents called their real name instead of the usual nickname, it was always in serious talks.

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

(* insert timeskip*)

Frisk gasped at the clothes their parents were handing them.

“B-but, is that?...” they sputtered, their eyes going from Dad to Mom.

 “Take them and see for yourself.” Mom encouraged them with a nod of their head while Dad snorted.

Their hands shaking with expectation, the child took one of the garments and let it unfold.

It was a beautiful purplish-blue tunic on which the delta rune adorned the chest, with thin white stripes at the end of its short sleeves; it reached somewhere between their thigh and their knee. Frisk looked up from it and stared at the belt and legging Dad held proudly out to them.

“Surprise sweetie!” he beamed at them.

The child’s smile was still a bit shy as they took them, but they did not forget to kiss their father’s cheek with a thanks. Not sure what to say anymore, they turned to their mom.

 “You’ve proved you were ready during your training.” Chara smiled as they leaned in. “So from now on, you will come with me in the Ruins once per week and learn everything you need to know as their future caretaker.”

Frisk was now smiling widely and started bouncing excitedly. They had certainly not been expecting this! Not so soon! Mom and Dad had only started giving them fight lessons and the plans of the Ruins last year!

 “Really?” they cried out at last.

 “Yes, as long as you do not neglect your homework!” the two Regent Princes precised in a same voice, one holding out a finger in warning, the other with a laugh.

 “I promise I won’t! Thank you!!”

 Frisk rushed to their room to try their new outfit, so excited they did not notice that their grandparents had been recording the whole thing. They quickly put them on and admired their reflection in the mirror, both proud and moved.

 “Just like the two of them!” they chirped and twirled.

 A pair of boots Grandpa and Grandma had given them were matching just fine with this new ensemble; after putting them on Frisk smoothed their short hair and put small white elastic clasp on their longer hair strands -similar to their Mom’s- then the final touch: the pendant.

 Whereas Asriel and Chara’s pendants were silver, Frisk’s was gold and had a special shape: like a human soul outside with a smaller -and in a lighter gold- heart inside, like a monster’s. Two souls for one, human in appearance but a heart like a monster’s: full of love and hope. A “heart of gold”.

 After a last glance to their reflection, satisfied with it, Frisk pranced back to the living room where their family was waiting. Grandma immediately turned her camera on again at their arrival.

“Look at our little princess!” Grandpa exclaimed and held out his arms for them.

Frisk ran to him and laughed as the old King swung them up in his arms before going to their Dad who did the same but kept them against his chest, holding back tears.

“My baby angel is all grown up!” He whispered tearfully as he nuzzled their foreheads together. “You are so beautiful!”

Frisk kissed his cheek again before turning to their mother, who had their hands joined together in front of their mouth. They embraced them both before kissing the Princess’ forehead.

 “Oh Frisk, let me look at you.” They breathed.

 Asriel put the child down and watched with emotion Frisk standing at their full height and outstretching their arms so Chara could fully see how much the clothes fitted them. He could swear his spouse’s eyes were gleaming with repressed tears, which made him smile wider while Frisk spun happily, the hem of their tunic flowing as they did.

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

“Wait Frisk, there is one last thing I must give you.”

Frisk turned back to their dad, who held out a small metal stick to them.

“What is it?” they asked in curiosity, inspecting the object.

“Please be careful!” Asriel held his two hands out, looking concerned. “First, push this button.”

The young princess blinked and did as told, then jumped as the small stick suddenly expanded -becoming as big as their baseball bat- with a discreet clink.

“Asriel?” Chara called out in disbelief. “Did you make this?”

“No, I had it made by one of the new engineers.” The monster Prince scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Since Frisk is pretty good with a bat and at fighting with stick, I thought it would be best for them to have one when going to the Ruins. But a stick is not very discreet, so I had this idea and asked if it could be made…”

Frisk rotated their new weapon carefully and swung it like they had learnt to do it. It was well balanced and did not slip through their hands.

“It’s great! Thanks Dad!”

“Wait, it’s not all. Now, there is a smaller button underneath…” he gently seized his child’s hand, preventing them to push it at once. “But it’s only for emergencies, and by that, I mean for you to use it at very last resort! You shouldn’t have to use it since Mom will be going with you, but I asked for this addition, really just in case…”

The two humans exchanged a bewildered gaze, Asriel stepped asides and then Frisk cautiously pushed the odd button. The sound was not loud, but the shlink resonating teared the silence. Frisk’s eyes grew wide at the blade coming out from the opposite side of their weapon. They were now holding on a spear.

The child’s attention turned to their mother who had tried to muffle their gasp behind their hands, but while they did seem shock, it was nor fear or worry that glittered in their eyes. But Frisk could not tell what it was, too stunned.

“Oh Asriel!”

Frisk startled when their Mom pounced on their Dad to kiss him in a way they had never did in front of them. The child was now smiling sheepishly, quite astonished by their parents’ sudden public display of affection and binked in surprise when it was their turn to be embraced; and as Chara loudly kissed their cheek, they realized their mom was crying.

“You will do wonderfully, my dear. I am sure of it.” they beamed as their arms tightened around Frisk. “Freedom is near.”

[albatris]

T for the oc asks?

hey! thanks for the ask! I think I have two T characters that I can remember and I have another T in my inbox so…… as per usual I’m gonna start with the easier one hahaha

which would be Tris, much to the surprise of……… no one, probably?

also, obligatory apology for the lengthy rambles

I swear not all my responses will be like this ok

I just don’t know how to, like.......... shhh, ever

Full name: Tristan James Greer, n like. as mentioned in a previous ask he and his older brother Jacob share a middle name because of just. incredibly stupid reasons. both in terms of canon explanation and Me As A Writer explanations

Nicknames, if any: technically I guess “Tris” is the nickname, although it would be more accurate to say that “Tris” is his name and “Tristan” is a word he is entirely divorced from and will not respond to, unless you’re one of his two siblings, or his parents using A Certain Tone Of Voice, or sometimes Shara who forgets, or legal forms, or it's pertinent to a joke he'd like to make

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Ace, definitely at least a little bi, not that it ever really comes up in a major way in-story. Like, could definitely be argued he had a crush on Kai when they first became friends, but like. who knows whether that was legitimate romantic attraction or whether he was just so unbelievably caught off guard by someone being genuinely interested in and nice to him that it immediately crashed his entire emotional system and caused his brain to short-circuit. could go either way. also who of the atdao gang DOESN'T have at least a slight crush on Kai, probably

A song I associate with them: How about five instead!! Good Tris tunes include but are in no way limited to: “Boys Will Be Bugs” by Cavetown, “Sloom” by Of Monsters and Men, “If This Ship Sinks (I Give In)” by Birds of Tokyo (melodramatic edgy Tris vibes), “Monsters” by The Boy Least Likely To and “The Future’s Right In Front Of Me” by A Great Big World

3 important relationships:

Okay so first off would be Noa, his best friend of an amount of years that I always just fucking make up because I can never remember. More than 3 and less than 7. Anyway these two only started hanging round each other ‘cause it was mutually beneficial, ‘cause kids are mean and they eventually twigged that they were less likely to be targeted as a pair than on their own, but pretty soon they were like "oh wait hey you're actually a nice person and I genuinely enjoy ur company and we make a good team" and their friendship grew from there n now they're bros.

honestly I have like seven hyperspecific rambles in my drafts about Tris and Noa's friendship n how they relate to each other could honestly talk abt both of them for hours

in terms of Tris I will say that Noa is part of the extremely extremely small group of people that he's generally willing to trust completely with zero strings attached, which is like. sure something. n she's someone he generally considers a touchstone of reality and someone he can rely on when he can't necessarily trust his own perceptions. also she's someone who is a half-decent opponent at upside down Mario Kart which is a plus

and also, Jacob, arguably the most important person in Tris's life, someone he thinks the world of and considers his biggest role model. like. not in terms of Jacob's intelligence or success or how hard he's worked n all the reasons their parents think he's the ideal Tris should be striving for, just in terms of like. the sort of person he wants to be, someone kind and well-liked and fun, someone with a good heart, which is super corny now that I write it. Cool. Great. Cool. Tris did not have a lot of super great adult role models growing up 'cause his parents are a nightmare and most teachers found him frustrating beyond belief, nor did he have a lot of friends being a weird neurodivergent kid lmao, so his relationship with both his siblings but especially Jacob has been one of the only sources of stability and genuine warmth and connection through most of his life

so I mean basically he pretty much thinks of Jacob as Literally The Coolest Person In The Entire World which is funny because Jacob is just a complete dweeb

n then thirdly. I mean. parents, again much for the same reasons as I listed in Jacob's post. controlling, emotionally distant, impossible standards, more concerned with maintaining a perfect image than any of their kids' actual wellbeing, blah blah

Jacob is currently the only Greer sib who has any real grasp on exactly HOW unhealthy their relationship with their parents is? Tris has a whole thing going on in the story where he's kinda juuust starting to come to grips with things and work through some of his complicated feelings towards his parents and reconcile the ideas of "I love these people" and "these people kind of really truly genuinely fucked me up and none of what happened to me was normal or my fault and I'm going to be untangling the repercussions for a long time" and how both these things can be true for him at the same time

also Jacob's like thirteen years older than Tris I feel like I forgot to mention this here

I'm tired, yeah

2 fears:

1. everything

2. literally everything are you kidding me. weird birds. diseases. public transport. dying. sudden change. loud noises. crowds. hot weather. roadworks. natural disasters. people walking behind him. it'd be easier to list the things he's not afraid of. it's a miracle he leaves the house at all

ok those aren't good answers ummmm let's see

here's one: being somehow responsible for harm coming to the people he cares about, being the cause of something that directly hurts someone else, etc. etc. in broad general terms, but also in terms of intrusive thoughts and in terms of delusions/hallucinations that sometimes wander into the realm of threats, orders, "do this thing or your best friend will die horribly", kind of thing. so. the stress that he's going to disobey something or misinterpret something and his loved ones being punished for it....... all of that

1 element of their backstory:

his parents once tried to have him exorcised as a child and he’s only just now beginning to realise this was a "legitimately fucked-up experience” not “haha relatable childhood hijinks”

also on a lighter note he insists to Shara that this makes him immune to demons and she is fairly certain this is not how it works at all, but neither of them can technically prove it's NOT how it works without actively trying to get Tris murdered by demons, and while this DOES sound like a fun after-school activity, both their parents said no

anyway cool that's it from me! I'm not going back to edit this at all! I don't remember what I wrote even slightly! I'm going to bed! I should have probably picked a more fun backstory fact! The one I chose is horrible! Goodnight!

[gwentoryfics]

Hot for Teacher, Part 6.

Genre | College Student x College Professor Smut AU

Pairing | Reader x Hongseok x Hyunggu (Kino) x Wooseok

Words | 14k

Summary | You never realized how much one drunken night could color the rest of your college experience until you discover that the handsome stranger from your cousin’s wedding is also the new professor at your university.

Warnings | Mentions of abusive familial relationships. Explicit sexual content. Grinding. Penetrative sex. Swearing. And, as always, poor choices.

Parts | 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 5.5 • 6 • More Coming Soon

Note | Added Wooseok to the official Pairing list because, let’s be real. He’s earned it. Thank you all for your never-ending patience! I love each and every one of you, and I’ll never get over how much love and support you all give me.

The morning brings with it a throbbing headache and a brief moment of surprise when you realize you’ve woken up in an apartment that is not your own. You remember quickly, however, that you ran into Kino last night and ended up crashing at his place, so you’re not alarmed.

You’re sweaty under the blanket that’s draped over you, and your shirt- er, the one you borrowed from Kino- sticks to your back. Vague bits of a dream mix with faded memories of last night, and you have to take a moment to sort everything out.

You went to the club with the seniors from jazz band. The boys were so supportive, and their performance was stellar, and… and they fucking signed you up to play. Right.

And then you ran into Professor Yang, who sent you home. Your whole body had throbbed with want for him, as per usual. But instead…

Wooseok.

You went to Wooseok’s place, and he fingered you on the kitchen counter.

What was that all about? How did you end up making out with him of all people? Not that he was a bad choice or anything, maybe just an unexpected one.

Desperately, you try to piece together what you feel about the whole situation. So you start with the things you know to be true about him:

Wooseok is tall and attractive, especially in a jean jacket.

Wooseok is an incredible kisser.

Wooseok knows how to use his fingers.

And then you think of things that you know to be true about you:

You’re feeling turned on again just by thinking about Wooseok.

You’re blessedly distracted by something that isn’t Professor Yang for once.

You don’t know what you feel towards Wooseok emotionally, but you maybe wouldn’t mind if something like last night happened again. Maybe.

You puff out your cheeks and let the air rush out in a deep sigh. Somehow, you had managed to make a messy semester even messier. Literally all you had to do was just get your shit together. Is that really such a difficult thing for you to accomplish?

Thoughts of Wooseok’s lips, tongue, and fingers swirl in your brain, and it’s weirdly relieving. It feels like there may be hope for you after all - your world doesn’t have to revolve around Professor Yang. You can move on. You can see other people and stop feeling so hung up on him. 

Maybe the rest of this semester won’t be so bad.

Grabbing your phone off of the coffee table, you check your notifications. Just a message from Nailah - oops, you forgot to let her know you weren’t coming home last night - and an email in your school account. You send off a quick reply to Nailah letting her know that you’re alive and that you’ll make it up to her, and then you check the email.

“_____,

Because you missed our meeting last week, I would like to reschedule. I have set aside time this Thursday afternoon to meet with you. Please let me know if this time does not work for you.

Thank you,

Professor Hongseok Yang”

The email is so formal, it makes you roll your eyes. You get it - your school email is probably monitored and he doesn’t want to at all hint at any kind of comfortability between the two of you, but it doesn’t have to sound like a fucking dissertation. 

You know what? Whatever. You’ll meet with him. It’s not a big deal, anyway, because you’re getting over him. 

Without the slightest hint of sass or sarcasm or whatever else, you genuinely write back: 

“Professor Yang,

Thursday afternoon works great for me. I’ll see you then.

Thank you!

_____”

Sending the message, you feel relieved. You’re turning over a new leaf. All that’s left for you to do is send a quick text to Wooseok letting him know that you won’t be able to tutor him this week, and once that is on its way to him you feel like you’re ready to start the day.

As you sit up on the couch, about to get up and go to the bathroom, you notice a Kino-sized lump on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. Had he slept there all night?

You reach down, lifting the end of the blanket that covers his head. “Psst.”

He inhales deeply and shifts, eyes opening and squinting at the sunlight pouring in from the windows. Passively, you note that he’s actually really cute when he’s so sleepy.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you coo. You ruffle his hair, and he swats your hand away, emitting a noise that sounds like a cross between a chuckle and a groan. 

“Five more minutes.”

“No. I’m up so you should be up, too.” 

“Oh, is that how this works?” He peeks up at you, one eye still squinted shut. 

“Think so. I am the guest of honor here, so you should probably do what I say.”

“Guest of honor, my ass.”

“I’m not the one sleeping on the floor, so I think that puts me a step above you.”

“Please. I’m only down here because of you.”

You laugh. “Why? Were you worried I might have nightmares out here by myself?”

“No, I thought you’d be fine.” He sits up, stretching his arms and back, which are surely stiff from sleeping on the carpet all night. “You’re the one that asked me to stay with you.”

Your cheeks suddenly warm and your eyes widen. “...I did?”

He nods. “Yeah, I was going to head in because I thought you were asleep, but the second I stood up you asked me to stay. So I stayed.”

“Shit, Kino, I was drunk. You didn’t have to do that for me.” You frown. “You’re probably stiff as hell because of it.”

Kino just shrugs. “Well, now you know what I’m willing to do for you.”

“Would you be willing to make me some eggs?”

With a broad smile, Kino stands. “Anything for you, dear.” And then he pushes you back onto the couch, giggling like a maniac as he runs for the kitchen.

“Shithead!”

***

You’re grateful to find Changgu at the reception desk on Monday. You never actually sent the apology text that you drafted, and at this point it’s probably better to just do it in person - no matter how embarrassing it might be.

“Hey, Changgu.” You approach the desk, greeting him quietly. Shyly.

He looks up from the computer, eyebrows lifting in surprise before a smile settles on his lips. “Quite the weekend, huh?”

Oh, he has no idea. “You’re telling me.”

“How can I help you?”

“I wanted to apologize for everything. You guys could have all had a perfectly good time without me. I shouldn’t have lied to you about my age.”

“Yeah, you probably shouldn’t do that too often. But I’m not going to lecture you.”

“Thanks.” You shift your weight awkwardly, not really sure what else to say. “Anyway, I really appreciate you inviting me to the jazz club, and getting me into the jazz band practice. I really enjoyed it. Both of those things.”

“It’s not a problem.” Changgu smiles warmly. What a gentle ray of sunshine he is. Then he grabs a stack of post-it notes and scribbles something down before handing it over. “I’m supposed to give you this.”

“Oh?” You look at the square of paper to find what looks to be a phone number.

“From Yanan. You don’t have to text him if you don’t want to. He can be a little forward sometimes, but he won’t be weird about it if he doesn’t hear from you. He just always has to try, you know?”

“Oh. Okay.” You slip it into your pocket, not exactly sure what you want to do with it. “Um, I should probably get going. Class and all. You know.”

As you turn to head out, he calls your name. “_____?”

“Yeah?” You look back at him.

If you’re not mistaken, Changgu’s cheeks are the most delicate rose color. “Don’t forget that you have my number, too.”

Is he flirting?

You smile reassuringly. If Bad Choices is becoming your middle name, you may as well embrace it. “I won’t forget.”

***

Thursday afternoon, you find yourself in Professor Yang's office, as he requested. You feel surprisingly level-headed, but you do notice just a hint of nervousness in the back of your mind. After all, you’re getting over him - so you’re not quite over him yet. He’s still beautiful and tempting and damn him for wearing such a delicious cologne all the time.  

Professor Yang sits across from you, behind his desk, as always. He’s looking through the two incorrectly-graded assignments you brought in, and he takes the time to correct them.

"I apologize. You were right about my miscalculations." He plugs the updated grades into his computer, and they hardly even affect your total grade. "I assure you that I'll take my time with your midterm and all other assignments from here on out."

"Thank you." You take back your labs and stuff them into your backpack. The midterm you took on Tuesday hadn't been terribly difficult and you're anticipating that you'll get a good grade anyway. But at least you know that he's aware of his mistakes so you won't have to confront him about it again (hopefully). 

You stand, ready to leave now that your meeting’s purpose is complete, but he beckons you. "I need to speak with you about something else."

You meet his caramel eyes, and he's just as impossible to read as always. Begrudgingly, you fall back into your chair. "What is it?"

Professor Yang's tongue swipes over his lower lip, but in such a way to indicate that he's thinking, considering where to start. Still, it catches your attention, and you probably look at his lips a hair longer than you should. Damn him.

"About what you said this weekend..." He searches your face. "I don't have a girlfriend."

Why the fuck did he have to say that, of all things?!

"Okay," you spit out, trying to act aloof even though you're fucking mortified that he would even bring that up. You're sure that your furiously warming cheeks give you away. "Good for you."

Professor Yang looks dissatisfied. "Can we perhaps have an adult conversation about this?"

"I don't have to have anything with you." You cross your arms over your chest, defaulting to your usual sass mode that always seems to emerge around him.

His eyes narrow and he scoffs. "See, this is exactly why I said you needed to leave Saturday night. Do you at all notice the childish fit that you're throwing right now?"

With a roll of your eyes (yes, you realize that's still childish), you uncross your arms and take a deep breath. "Fine. Let's talk. What do you want?"

"I want to know what's going on with you. Why did you tell me to say hi to my girlfriend?"

The thing is, you know that he knows exactly why you said it. He just wants you to admit it out loud. "I was heated." That's as much as you'll give him.

"Is that why you left our last appointment? Because you were heated?" Professor Yang recalls the way you stormed off after seeing that woman in his office last week.

"You seemed busy."

"I wasn't. She was leaving."

"Whatever. I didn't feel like talking."

"Did you think she was my girlfriend?"

"I don't care who she is."

"She's my sister."

Somehow, that genuinely catches you off guard. You shift in your seat, curious. "You have a sister?"

Professor Yang nods calmly. "Two. Both younger than me. The sister that you saw was in town for a conference, and she just stopped in to visit. I don't get to see her very often."

Shit. Well that certainly explains why she was so gorgeous, since they share the same gene pool. You try to remain neutral about it all. "I'm glad you got to see her, then."

"The way you've reacted to her is very concerning." His brow furrows. "I knew this would be an issue if we tried to do a class together."

"This has nothing to do with you and me, okay? This..." you gesture between him and yourself, "...is nothing. You can date whoever you want. I literally don't care."

"You want me to believe that after the way you acted?"

"You think I'm jealous or something?" You scoff, laughing, but it's awkward and forced. He notices, and gives you the look of oh-please. Defensively you say, "I'm not jealous!"

Pause. A lull in conversation. You’re both aware that you’re lying, and it’s obvious that you will never admit to it, no matter what he says. You hold each others' gaze, and you wonder which of you will be the first to look away. And then he speaks.

"I wanted to tell you something else. Something honest. But I need you to not read into it, okay? Just take it at face value. Promise me you can do that."

Faintly, you notice the way your heart skips. "Okay. I promise."

"You obviously shouldn't have been at the club over the weekend, but I just thought you should know that you're a really talented pianist. I was very impressed to hear you play like that."

It hadn't even occurred to you that he was in the audience while you were playing. But now that he's acknowledging it, you feel retroactively nervous about your performance. "Thank you... I appreciate that."

He nods once and then turns to his computer, closing out of the grading screen and generally avoiding your gaze.

"I want to say something honestly, too." You get up the nerve to speak, but you have to hold your hands together to keep them from trembling. How could he affect you so much?

His gaze is so intense, full of warning. "Please be careful with whatever it is you want to say."

He doesn't trust you. You can't blame him. You don't really trust him either. You're both tiptoeing around very dangerous territory even allowing yourselves to be in the same room. But this time you want to share with him something genuine, something that has absolutely nothing to do with whatever may have transpired between the two of you in the past.

"I'm truly enjoying your class. And it's not because you're the one teaching it, I swear. The material is really interesting to me and I'm really looking forward to building my dulcimer."

He smiles, and it's almost unguarded. Like he's relieved that you didn't say something else. "That means a lot to me. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I’m not kidding when I say I've been looking forward to this class since I heard about it last year. And I think you're a great teacher, everything else aside."

"Thank you."

"Can I actually ask you a question? About building instruments and stuff."

He sits back a little, as if he's finally able to relax around you, now that you're actually acting like a student speaking with their teacher. "Of course."

"When did you start building instruments? And did you build that guitar?" You gesture to the instrument resting in the corner of the room, with its beautifully stained wood and delicate detailing around the sound hole. 

“I did!” He lights up and stands, retrieving the guitar. “I built my first guitar when I was sixteen. Didn’t turn out that great because I was not very skilled. But after honing my craft for a few years, I saw more success in the instruments I built. This little lady came along just two years ago.”

“She’s beautiful,” you praise his handiwork. “Seriously. I’m impressed that it’s actually a handmade guitar.”

Professor Yang looks at you like you just sprouted a second head. “Of course it’s handmade. All of the best instruments are. You expect a machine to produce something that sounds like this?”

He strums the strings gently, an arpeggiated chord ringing sweetly through the room. The warm, buttery sound is enough to raise goosebumps on your arms.

“You’re right. No robot could ever make that.” 

“This guitar is my heart and soul.” He smooths his hand over its curves lovingly.

“Can you play that? ‘Heart and Soul’?”

“Why on Earth would I want to play that atrocity on my masterpiece of an instrument? Absolutely not.”

You laugh. “Fair enough. Play something else, then. I want to hear what she can do.”

With no further prompting needed, he dives into a beautiful melody, plucking the strings softly and tapping his nails against the strings to create a beat. The sound is gorgeous, and it’s incredibly special to see him get swept up in the music he’s creating. He’s entirely focused on the movement of his fingers, the swell of each phrase, the gentle groove he’s creating.

Your eyes close so you can hear the music more deeply. It seeps into you, and you can feel him in each note. He is part of the music, giving himself to the melody and turning it into something beyond notes on a page. He breathes life into it.

The song ends, and you wish it never had to. You could listen to him play forever. In the end, all you can manage is a soft wow.

“Nice, right?” Professor Yang grins widely, clearly proud of himself.

“Seriously incredible. And you’re so good at playing it, too.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

You sit up a little more, interested. “The way you were tapping the strings… it reminds me of those people who can, like, play the strings and drum on the guitar body at the same time. Can you do that?”

“I used to. Let’s see…”

He plays something a little more upbeat this time, tapping his fingers, knuckles, and the heel of his palm against the guitar’s body as he strums. It’s not perfect and eventually he stumbles, but it’s still incredibly impressive.

With a short laugh, he gives up. “Like I said, I used to. It has been a while.”

“That’s probably the coolest thing in the world,” you laugh along with him. “I don’t know how you have enough coordination to do that.”

“It’s a skill. Like anything else, you just have to take the time to practice and learn.” Professor Yang drums his fingers against the wood softly. “Clearly I’m a little out of practice.”

“I mean, if you don’t have the time to grade my labs properly, I can’t imagine you have time to sit around drumming on your guitar.”

He cocks his head and purses his lips. “You try teaching a class at a university and we’ll see how easy it is for you to keep up with everything.”

“Hey, I’m not doubting the incredible stress you must be under.” You tease. 

It hits you then how incredibly comfortable you feel with him, how easy it is to be with him unguarded. It’s really… nice.

There’s a knock at the door, then, and Professor Yang glances at the clock on his desk. “Ah. Come in!”

The door opens to reveal another student - a boy from your class. “Hi, Professor.” He notices you still sitting in the office. “Am I too early for our meeting?”

Professor Yang reassures him, “Right on time, actually.”

You nod. “I was just getting ready to leave.” Grabbing your bag, you stand and address Professor Yang. “Thank you for meeting with me today. Really.”

“Not a problem. Thank you for making the time to stop in. I’m glad we got everything sorted out.” He nods once to you. “Have a good weekend and I’ll see you in class.”

“You, too.” 

The two of you exchange a smile, and it feels delightfully innocent. It feels like it means something different, like an agreement to be okay with each other from now on. An agreement to not be at each others’ throats this semester. It gives you hope that you’ve finally broken through into a more peaceful part of your relationship as student and teacher.

This semester is going to be just fine.

***

“_____.”

Your eyes lift from the keyboard to find that the tallest human you know somehow snuck into the R&B Ensemble rehearsal without you noticing. You forgot that he was allowed to rejoin the group this week. “Oh. Hi.”

“...hi.” Wooseok tries to smile, but it’s small and awkward and he looks kind of concerned.

You haven’t spoken to him at all during the week or so that has passed since you made out with him. The only communication that happened was the text that you sent to let him know you had to cancel tutoring. He hadn’t responded, and now that you think about it, you probably should have reached out to him again at some point.

A smile pulls across your lips, although you’re sure it seems just as ingenuine as his. But if it’s ingenuine, it’s only because you’re actually wildly nervous about being in front of him again. From your seat on the piano bench, he towers over you, tall and handsome and… and he’s wearing that fucking jean jacket. It’s devastating.

The silence between the two of you stretches on for far too long, and he eventually gives up on having a conversation as he retreats to the drumset. 

Yikes. You didn’t mean for that to get so weird.

Rehearsal goes much more smoothly now that Wooseok is back, and he drums like he never missed a single practice. Every rhythm and fill is spot on. The whole ensemble falls into a groove that’s just a little bit deeper, a little bit smoother than before. And you can tell that your instructor, Typhanie, is jazzed about it.

After rehearsal, Kino darts over to the keyboard. “_____, your solo was killer tonight!”

“You know I’d say the same to you, but I compliment you every week and eventually you’re going to get a big head about it.”

He pouts. “Nonsense. Compliment me.”

You rise to your feet and pat his head twice. “Well done.”

Kino rolls his eyes, but his smile is bright. He nods his head in the direction of the door, tugging on your sleeve absentmindedly. “Come on, let’s go. I want to ask you something.”

You grab your things and follow him. “Alright. Go on.”

“So, um, two-fold question.” He pushes the door open, and ushers you out of the room. “First, are you free this weekend? Specifically Saturday night?”

“I think so. Are we gonna do something?”

“Yeah, I just wanted-”

“_____! Hold up!” Wooseok’s voice precedes him down the hall as he comes thundering after you. Both you and Kino pause as he approaches. “Sorry, can I talk to you? Please?”

You look over at Kino, who wears a slight frown. As much as you don’t want to do this to Kino, you know you really should talk with Wooseok. “Can I catch up with you later?” 

Kino cocks his head, like he’s surprised you would choose Wooseok over him. But you’re not choosing Wooseok over him, you just… you just have to do this. Kino throws on a half-hearted smile and says, “Sure. Later.”

Wooseok pulls you aside as Kino departs, heading down a different hallway to get you away from the other students leaving rehearsal. You don’t protest, but you tell yourself that you will if he tries anything funny.  

“What is it?” you ask, knowing full well what this conversation is going to be.

“I was kind of hoping you could tell me.” Wooseok expression is unsettled. “I’ve been dying to talk to you, but I thought you might need space, since you just kind of stormed off and then immediately canceled tutoring.”

Oh shit. You didn’t mean for it to come off that way. You canceled because of Professor Yang, not because things were weird between you and Wooseok. Nevertheless, you had run out of his apartment without any kind of explanation, and that is entirely your fault. “I’m sorry I left like that. And I swear, I didn’t cancel tutoring because of… everything. Something else came up. That’s all.”

The gentle giant takes a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. “I’m sorry, too. I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. We were both a little drunk and I shouldn’t have taken it so far. If you don’t ever want to be around me again, I understand. But I just wanted to talk to you about it and let you know that I’m sorry. Honestly.”

Your chest warms. It’s so sweet that he’s worried about you, but it’s also unnecessary. There’s nothing for him to be worried about. “It’s okay. Really. You have nothing to feel bad about. I… I wanted it. And I liked it.” You have to look away from him as you admit it.

It feels like a weight is lifted between you. “I did, too. You’re a good kisser.” He chuckles softly, his hands shyly slipping into his pockets.

“Not so bad yourself,” you chime, still avoiding his gaze. “Um, so even though I enjoyed it, I just felt kind of confused after? I’m…” Go on. You can say it. “I’m getting over someone. So I didn’t know what to feel about all of it. Other than fucking mortified because of your roommate.”

“Don’t worry about him. I promise he doesn’t care.”

Finally, you look up at him. He really is quite handsome, and you fully understand why your drunk self had enjoyed him so much. 

“But I totally understand. I didn’t assume that it meant anything, but thanks for letting me know. Oh, by the way…” Wooseok drops his backpack from his shoulder and unzips one of the small side pockets. “I brought something for you.”

You accept the square of tissue, confused about what he could possibly be giving you - until you unwrap it. He had nicely folded your abandoned underwear to return to you, which is simultaneously embarrassing and sweet.

“Oh my God,” you mumble as you recognize the underwear, a stupid little chuckle leaving you. “I… um, thank you.”

“I’ve gotta be honest, I thought about keeping them.”

“W-what?”

Wooseok shrugs nonchalantly, a goofy grin on his face. “I mean, it’s kind of hot to have a girl’s panties. And they’re cute.”

“You really have no filter.” You stuff the panties into your own backpack, flustered.

“Just wanted to see your reaction,” he laughs. “Worth it.” 

“Glad you thought so. Can we head out now?”

“Mm.” He nods once, and you both head for the stairs. “So, just to make sure we’re both on the same page, I still want to be your friend and I don’t expect anything else from you.”

“Agreed.” You smile, grateful that he’s so considerate about all of this. But against your better judgment, your words don’t stop there. “But if it happens again…”

Wooseok freezes a few stairs ahead of you, turning to face you exactly at eye level. He peers at you curiously. “If it happens again...?”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. You can’t turn back now, so you may as well embrace it. “Then it happens. But I’m not just a booty call, so don’t even think about treating me that way.”

“So…” He moves up a step towards you, regaining a few inches of height. His voice is low as he asks,  “...what exactly are you saying?”

“I’m saying… if it feels right and we’re in the moment, then it is what it is.” You know that you’re still being incredibly vague, but you just can’t bring yourself to say I’m down to fuck if you are. “But no catching feelings because I’m still trying to sort mine out.”

“Right, with the guy you’re getting over and everything.” Wooseok leans in a little, the smallest smirk on his lips. “So I shouldn’t call you up out of the blue. But if we’re both here, and we’re both in the moment…”

He leans in further, and you realize he’s going in for a kiss the second he grabs your hand. But you’re all too aware of the fact that you’re standing on the main staircase of the music building, and anyone could walk past you at any time.

You shake off his hand and put your hand on his chest, holding him back. “Not here, idiot. Someone might see!”

He grins mischievously and shrugs. “Worth a shot.”

After that, Wooseok walks you all the way to your dorm, and he’s a total gentleman. He stands with you in front of your building for a moment, his hands buried in his pockets. 

“Just so you know, you’re welcome to come over to my place whenever,” he offers. “Even if you just want to hang out. We could play games or something. We’re friends, after all.”

“That we are. Thanks.” You hold your fist out for him to bump. “See you at tutoring on Thursday, if not before then?”

“Yeah.” He bumps your fist with his own and smiles sweetly. “Catch you later.”

As he walks off, you’re actually really pleased with the way things turned out. Although you didn’t expect to actually bring up the whole maybe-we-could-do-this-again thing, it excites you that he’s at least open to the idea. Who says you can’t have a fling?

You head upstairs and open the door to your room, and you remember that Kino was in the middle of asking you something when he left - and he didn’t seem too pleased by the interruption. So… maybe you should call him to see what’s going on. You do feel kind of bad that he had to leave on his own.

You’re not sure why your impulse is to call and not text, but he answers the phone before you can really question it too much. “Hey, _____.” 

“Hey, Kino. Did you make it home?”

“Yeah.” 

“Go to your window and look up at my building.”

“...Okay…”

You flicker your bedroom light on and off to catch his attention. “Do you see my room? With the flashing light.”

A quiet chuckle comes across the line. “Yeah, I see it.”

“Now show me where you are.”

A short moment later, you notice one of the windows on the building across the street repeatedly light up and go dark. “Found you!”

“What’s this all about?”

You watch as his silhouette reappears in the window. “You didn’t get to ask me your question. I wanted to know what it was.”

“Oh.” He drags his hand through his hair. “So, I haven’t told you yet, but a piece that I choreographed is going to be performed at the Dance Department Showcase.”

“What? Kino, that’s amazing!” It’s not easy to get work presented at a department-wide showcase, so you know that it’s a huge accomplishment for him. “I’m so proud of you. Oh my gosh, that’s so cool.”

“Thank you! Thank you.” Kino laughs, pleased at your reaction. “So… the showcase is this Saturday night and I’m freaking out. I’m not performing, but I’m still incredibly nervous because it’s like… this project, this baby of mine… it’s being put on display and it’s going to be critically watched by all of my peers and professors. It’s just such a big deal.”

“Can I come?” The question eagerly bursts out of you. You would absolutely love to see what he’s capable of choreographing. If it’s anything like his dancing and singing, you know it’ll be awesome. But then you realize that he’s already freaking out about the people in the audience… maybe you shouldn’t add to that stress. “Actually, would that make it worse? I don’t want to stress you out more by being there.”

“No, no, not at all. That’s actually why I brought it up. I want you to come with me.”

You lean against your window, playing with the hem of your shirt. “I would be honored to go with you.”

He exhales deeply. “I think I’m going to feel much better with you there. Thank you.”

“Of course! What are friends for?”

“Exactly.” Kino’s hand comes to rest on the glass, like he’s reaching out to you. “I’ll see you Saturday, then. Well, and probably before then, too.”

You touch your window, too. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon.”

“Goodnight, _____.”

“Night, Kino.”

***

Your class with Professor Yang has officially moved over to the woodshop, now that your midterms are done. He had gone over standard dress code the week before (no loose, drapey clothing or open-toed shoes), but you hadn’t realized that he would be dressed differently as well.

Up until this point, you’ve only seen him in dress slacks and button-downs. But now that he’s teaching a woodworking class, he’s dressed way more casually than you expected. It makes sense that he would dress down, but it still surprises you to see him in jeans and a fitted t-shirt. His hair is swooped up and back, exposing his forehead and keeping his hair out of his eyes. 

It would be great if you could go a day without drooling over him. Seriously.

Professor Yang goes over the basics of the woodshop with everyone, explaining some of the general tools you’ll all use regardless of instrument. You’ve never used any sort of woodworking tools before, and it makes you a little nervous to think that you’ll be responsible for keeping your fingers intact while sawing away at the body of your dulcimer, but you know he’s there to help if you’re struggling (or injured).  

If nothing else, you and Shinhye can struggle together.

Beside you, Shinhye observes the slab of wood that is to be the neck of her cigar-box banjo. Her calculations are all finished and she knows exactly how far apart to mark each fret along the neck, but she hesitates. “I don’t know man, I’m going to fuck this up for sure.”

“Look, all you have to do is mark it with pencil, and then Professor Yang will come to check your work. Just don’t make any cuts into the wood without his approval and you’ll be fine.” You start marking up the wood that you’ve been given, confident in your math.

As you measure and make your marks, your ears tune in to the music Professor Yang plays throughout the workshop. He’s playing an old rock station, to be expected, and you perk up when a certain Aerosmith song comes on.

A smile grows on your face as Steven Tyler starts singing, and you remember when you sang “Dream On” in Professor Yang’s office.

You glance up to the front of the room to find Professor Yang looking right at you with a stupid grin on his dumb little face.

Oh, he remembers, too.

You struggle to hide your laughter as he breaks into a huge smile. What a loon you are.

“What are you giggling about?” Shinhye questions, still concentrated way too hard on her little pencil marks.

You’re about to respond with a simple nothing, but then she tucks her short hair behind her ear, revealing a purplish mark just under her jaw. “Oh my God, Shinhye, is that a hickey?”

She looks up at you like a deer in headlights, quickly ruffling her hair out with her fingers. “You didn’t see that.”

“What the hell do you mean? Of course I fucking saw that.” With a shit-eating grin, you lean in close. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hooking up with someone? I need to know these things!”

“It’s not important! I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Dude. Fine. I’ll give you a pass since we’re in class right now but you need to dish later.” Shinhye looks disgruntled at your demand, and you try to make her feel better about the whole situation. “Look, I’m proud of you. I never thought this day would come and I just want to know what happened! This is kind of a big deal.”

“It’s really not.” She rolls her eyes.

A third voice joins the conversation. “How are we doing over here?” Professor Yang stands next to Shinhye, looking over her work.

“Oh, perfect timing. I think I’m just about done. Can you check my marks?” Shinhye hands over her wood, seemingly grateful for the change of topic.

He takes a moment to check her math, but not her measurements. “Your math is good, so as long as you measured according to your numbers you’ll be good to go.”

You don’t even have to ask - he immediately picks up your scrap paper to check your math, too. It astounds you that he doesn’t feel the need to pick up a calculator, as if he could do all of the calculations in his head.

“Your math looks good, too.” He sets your paper down. “Go ahead and put your frets in.”

You cock your head, still surprised that he could be so good at math. “You can do all that math without a calculator?”

“I do have a Bachelor’s and a Master’s degree in Mathematics, so believe it or not, I don’t really need a calculator.” His voice is touched with sass, as if to say I’m your teacher and I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you.

But you can’t help the question. This man has not one but two math degrees, and he still fucked up your grades? The probability of that being an accident is practically zero - as you’re sure Mr. Math Wiz would agree.

So it must have been intentional. No matter how much he denies it.

It doesn’t seem like he was doing it to punish you, though. It doesn’t seem to have any purpose besides getting your attention.

Getting you into his office.

Getting you one-on-one.

And he succeeded - you sat in his office with him for a solid half hour as he re-graded your papers and chatted. He hadn’t tried to make a move or anything, so why did he want that alone time with you?

Could it be as innocent as just wanting to spend time together?

It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself. I’m getting over him. He doesn’t want anything from me, and I don’t want anything from him. The past is the past and I’m moving on.

You avoid his gaze for the rest of class.

***

Wooseok sits next to you in the practice room, working diligently on the exercises you’ve given him regarding figured bass. Overall, not at all an important concept for him as a drummer, but it’s definitely going to be on his final and he needs to know it for the sake of his grade.

You don’t know if it’s just because the nature of your relationship has changed, but you’ve felt so distracted through the whole session by how cute he looks. His hair is ruffled and he’s not wearing anything different than what he usually wears, but he just looks so damn attractive.

You know you shouldn’t say anything. You should let him work like the good little tutee he is. But since when do you pay attention to what you should and should not do?

“I think tutoring you is going to become increasingly more difficult.”

He pauses, his pencil still in his hand as he meets your gaze. “Why’s that? Because of the material? I feel like I’m actually doing pretty well.”

“No, idiot. Because, well…” Jesus, you never really know what to say in these situations. “Things are different between us now, you know?”

“It’s not that different.”

You can tell by the face he’s making that he’s teasing you. “It is! Don’t make me feel stupid.”

“You’re the one calling me an idiot!”

“It’s a term of endearment.”

“How sweet.” Wooseok shifts in his seat, turning towards you and placing his arm across the back of your chair. “So you’re flirting with me?”

“That may or may not be true.”

His fingers brush gently over your shoulder as he silently watches you, letting the air between you thicken with the thought that it would be so easy to close the gap.

Really, there’s nothing stopping you anyway.

“Wooseok… Have you done something like this before?” You ask before you convince yourself to cross the threshold. “Being friends with benefits and all of that?”

“No, actually.” Wooseok’s fingers reach your collar bone, delicately tracing the peaks and valleys. “I don’t have much experience with girls. I had a girlfriend in high school, but that’s it.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Dating’s not my priority.”

“Is this something you want, though?”

“Well yeah. I probably said it when I was drunk, but you’re really cool and you’re hot, so of course I’m down. This is totally different from dating.” He tilts his head minutely. “Have you done this before?”

Almost instantly, an image of Professor Yang flashes in your mind. “Not technically a friends with benefits situation, but I have hooked up before.”

“How’d it go? Were you okay with keeping it casual?”

Big fat fucking no, you were not okay with keeping it casual. Well, maybe you would have been if he hadn’t turned out to be your teacher. Things might have been so different. But the fact of the matter is that you’ve been an absolute wreck for the last two months because of your failure to keep it casual.

You’re fully aware of the fact that you should be honest about your hookup history. You should tell Wooseok that you most definitely caught feelings the last time you hooked up. It’s your duty to stop this trainwreck before it happens.

But… that means that you wouldn’t be able to hookup with Wooseok. And you really want to hookup with Wooseok right now.

“Yeah, it was totally fine,” you lie through your teeth. “No problems at all.”

“Cool.” He reaches out to cup your face. “Let’s stop talking about it then.”

As if they have always belonged together, your lips meet his. The kiss is sweet and gentle, and his hand is warm on your cheek. It feels so, so good to give in to your urges, to do what you want instead of overthinking. A friends-with-benefits situation is exactly what you need.

You don’t stay in your chair much longer as you continue to kiss. His lap is a much more appealing seat. Without pulling away from his lips, you get up and straddle him, your hands sliding behind his neck. 

Wooseok’s teeth bite down on your lip and his large hands are quick to venture into less innocent territory. His fingers slip down your sides and into the back pockets of your jeans, cupping your ass and giving a gentle squeeze. You roll your hips to show him that you’re pleased, and he lets out the quietest groan.

“Be careful moving your hips like that,” he warns against your lips, “or you’re signing yourself up for a whole lot of trouble.”

You smirk and roll your hips again as you say, “Maybe I want trouble.”

He responds by claiming your lips, his tongue diving deep into the cavern of your mouth as his fingers dig hard into your ass cheeks. 

You feel so alive. And so blissful - especially as you feel him start to harden through his jeans. The extra friction provided by rubbing against his thickness is absolutely delicious, and you shamelessly grind against him.

It’s clear that Wooseok is enjoying himself, too. He kisses you deeply as you grind, and his hand sneaks under your shirt, pushing your bra out of the way so that he can pinch and rub your nipple. 

You moan for him, careful to stay quiet - the sound proofing in the practice rooms isn’t perfect, after all. But you sigh and groan to let him know that you feel amazing and you love everything he’s doing to you. You would be totally content to just stay like this for the rest of your session, and it doesn’t seem like Wooseok would mind.

Unfortunately, though, you know this can’t last forever - you have to leave soon for your piano lesson. But he’s just such a good kisser…

You’re not sure what causes it, but suddenly the mood changes. His hurried kisses and touches melt into something much softer. Wooseok’s hand migrates to the small of your back, pulling you in close and embracing you as he kisses you. 

It’s mind-numbingly sweet, and you hold him tight, too.

With one last kiss, you part, but you rest your forehead on his as you catch your breath and try to process how he could be such a phenomenal kisser.

“What are you doing after this?” Wooseok asks, his voice low - and you know exactly why he’s asking.

“Piano lesson,” you huff quietly.

“Skip it.” Kiss. “Come back to my place.”

“Ugh, I wish. But I can’t. My lessons are important.” Your fingers glide through his soft hair, your gaze connecting with his sweet eyes. “What about tonight?”

Wooseok shakes his head as his fingers drum a rhythm against your spine. “Minho’s having some guys over. Tomorrow?”

“Girl’s night with my roommate.” You sigh. Who knew it would be so difficult to find time to hook up?

“I’m pretty sure Minho said he was going out of town this weekend, so we’d definitely have the place to ourselves.”

That sounds like a blessedly perfect scenario. “I have a thing with Kino on Saturday, but I could come over later that night?”

“Stellar. I’ll make sure Minho is out of the apartment.” Wooseok presses another kiss to your lips before helping you stand up. “You should probably get going though, since you have your lesson. Right?”

You glance at the clock on the wall and realize you have exactly thirty seconds to get downstairs. “Shit. Yeah, I have to run.”

Wooseok helps you gather your things. “I’ll see you Saturday night then?”

You hoist your backpack onto your shoulder and run a finger down Wooseok’s torso. “You bet.”

***

“Remind me why we’re doing this,” you grumble as you follow Nailah and Shinhye through the gym locker room on Saturday morning. Being physically active has never been your favorite thing, yet Nailah has managed to drag you along.

“Cute boy. You love cute boys, don’t you?” Nailah turns, tucking you under her arm and leading you over to the row of lockers. “This is all for you, baby.”

“But whyyyyy…”

“_____, exercising is good for you.” Shinhye tries to boost your morale as you each claim a locker, tossing your gym bags but keeping your water bottles in hand. “I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.”

“Since when have you become such a gym rat? Little Miss I-Live-On-The-Couch.” You tease her. She never seems to be interested in working out, but she looks like a total natural in her mid-calf leggings and moisture-wicking tank top.

She shrugs, touching the outer rim of her glasses to push them further up her nose. “I don’t know, I just go when Nailah invites me. And I think it’s actually pretty fun.”

“Yeah, Shinhye’s a great gym partner. She doesn’t complain.”

You roll your eyes, ignoring Nailah. “So have you seen this cute guy, then? Is it worth the effort?”

Shinhye shakes her head. “We’ve never seen him when I come along.”

“Okay, hold on.” You close your locker, realizing that this mystery cutie hasn’t been spotted in quite some time. “Are you telling me that it has probably been, like, a month and a half since you last saw him? Does he even go to this gym anymore?”

Nailah sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t know, _____. But we’re here now, so we may as well sweat a little.” She lifts her shirt up over her head, so she’s just in her spandex shorts and a sports bra. The shirt gets tossed into her locker and she holds out her hand to you. “Give me your shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it. We’re gonna go out there looking hot so you can seduce cute guy.”

“He’s probably not even out there!”

“Come on. It’s not even a big deal.” She gestures for you to hand her your shirt, and you begrudgingly do as she asks. 

“What about you, Shinhye?” You ask as your shirt disappears into Nailah’s locker.

Her face reddens. “Isn’t it weird to just wear a bra?”

“Not at all,” Nailah reassures her, closing her locker and patting Shinhye on the head as she walks away. “But don’t worry, my little Shinhye doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”

You notice Shinhye’s eyes grow wide and her blush deepen, and look at her quizzically. What the hell is that reaction all about? She just avoids your gaze and tails after Nailah.

As you follow them into the equipment room, you try not to feel embarrassed about your lack of shirt. It’s not that unusual for a girl to work out in just her bra and shorts, but you don’t feel particularly confident since you are bound to make a fool out of yourself on the machines, anyway.

The three of you head for the stationary bikes on the opposite side of the room, scoping out all of the other gym-goers along the way. When you reach the bikes, Nailah turns on her heel and pulls you and Shinhye in close.

“Don’t make it obvious, but he’s here. He’s at the bench press.”

What are the odds that he would actually be here today? You take a swig from your water bottle before setting it next to one of the bikes and casually turning around to try to spot him.

Shinhye finds him first. “Oh my God. Him?” She bursts into laughter. “Nailah, you don’t know who that is, do you?”

“Should I?”

“He teaches at our school! _____ and I are both in his class!”

“What?!” You and Nailah respond simultaneously, both for different reasons. Is it really him?

Your eyes scan over the weight machines, and just as you spot the row of bench presses, he sits up and wipes the sweat from his brow with a hand towel.

Fucking Professor Yang is sitting halfway across the room, biceps bulging, a delicious V of sweat forming on the chest of his muscle shirt. 

God, you wish you could just melt into a puddle and disappear from this world.

“No way.” Nailah chuckles. “He’s a Professor? Oh, this is gold.”

Shinhye starts giggling, too. “Yeah, and _____ totally has a crush on him. You should have seen them in class this week.”

“Well just look at her now.”

You finally snap out of your trance. “I do not!”

“No shame, girl.” Nailah smirks as she settles onto a bike. “We’ve all had an innocent crush on a teacher before.”

Oh, if only she knew how not innocent this was.

“Yeah, no shame.” Shinhye chimes, climbing onto the bike next to Nailah.

“Whatever. Shouldn’t we stretch first?” You quickly change the subject. You’re going to spend the rest of this hour pretending like the world’s most handsome professor isn’t over there keeping up his gorgeous physique with which you are unfortunately quite familiar. 

“It’s bad to stretch cold, so we do an easy five-minute ride just to get things warmed up a bit.” Nailah states.

“Alright, then.” 

So you bike, stretch, and tackle a few machines - and you’re incredibly aware of the fact that Nailah’s routine is strategically getting you closer and closer to wherever Professor Yang is stationed. 

You trail along behind her from machine to machine, and next thing you know you’re headed straight for him.

As the three of you approach, you hope and pray that he doesn’t notice you. And when you look over, you’re blessed. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and lifts it to wipe his face, but you’re too distracted by his abs to be grateful for his blocked view of you.

Professor Yang is absolutely chiseled under his muscle shirt, and you shouldn’t even be surprised. You’ve seen him shirtless before, you’ve felt the ripples of his muscles, but you’re still taken off guard by the body that hides beneath his clothes.

The glimpse of his abs is so distracting that you actually forget how you’re supposed to act around him. He drops his shirt and looks up just as you’re passing him, and you unintentionally flash him a coy smile. When his eyes widen as he recognizes you, you realize that you do not want to try to look cute right now. 

Well, you want to, but you shouldn’t.

Somehow that doesn’t stop you.

Professor Yang’s eyes travel down your body, taking in your shirtless state. But you don’t feel shy or nervous - you feel weirdly confident, and you walk with a little extra sass in the swing of your hips. You hope with all of your might that he’s as flustered by the sight of you as you always are by him. 

If your appearance gets to him at all, he certainly doesn’t make it known. Without any hint of what he might be feeling, he gets up and moves to a different machine farther down the row, and he doesn’t look back at you again.

Thankfully, it seems that Nailah and Shinhye did not notice anything that just happened, but you feel suddenly embarrassed about strutting past him the way you did. You need to step out for a second and collect yourself.

“I’m going to grab some more water.” You hold up your mostly empty water bottle for the two girls to see and tear off before either one of them can offer to come along.

That was so dumb. Why did you react that way when he saw you? You know better. You should be avoiding him at all costs, because you’re getting over him. You’ve got Wooseok to keep you entertained now, so you can finally let go of Professor Yang.

He just looked so good… and you want the confidence boost of knowing he thinks you look good, too.

But the thing is, though, you know that he thinks you look good. He’s made it kind of obvious throughout the semester that he’s still attracted to you, so you’re positive that he must have felt something when he saw you in your tight leggings and sports bra. He’s just really good at masking it.

You fill up your bottle and take a sip from it as you turn around, and you accidentally bump into a warm, solid body that immediately fills you with dread.

“_____.”

You’re surprised by the face you see when you look up - this is not the human you were expecting. “Yuto?”

He has a black bandana rolled up and tied across his forehead, and honestly it’s a look. Yuto hardly gives you so much as a smile before his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, gently pushing you aside so he can access the water fountain.

“I didn’t know you worked out here.”

He stands upright after taking a leisurely drink, looking you up and down. “I didn’t know you worked out. Wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“Don’t be rude, asshole.” You huff, stalking off towards the weight room. You don’t need to deal with him if he’s going to be a jerk.

“Hey, wait.” Yuto catches up to you, matching your stride. “I just meant that I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Yeah. Roommate dragged me along.”

“Nailah, right?” He points off to the left, and your eyes follow to that part of the room. Nailah’s hands rest on Shinhye’s hips, guiding your friend into the correct form for squats. You frown, worried about what that could mean.

If she’s starting to crush on Shinhye, she really needs to cut it out before she gets herself hurt. Shinhye’s straight - she’s not going to reciprocate any of Nailah’s feelings. And really, Nailah needs to make sure she’s not making Shinhye uncomfortable by being too forward with her flirting.

“That’s her.” You can’t help your frown as you beeline for them. 

“Wait, wait.” Yuto grabs your arm. “I need to talk to you.”

Surprised, you pause. “What about?”

“Wooseok.”

Your frown deepens. Does he know about your agreement? “What about Wooseok?”

“Be careful with him. He’s a kid.”

“We’re the same age...? What are you getting at?”

“He’s naive, okay?” Yuto looks frustrated that you don’t understand what he’s trying to say. “Just try not to hurt him. He’s a lot more delicate than he seems. He told me about you two, and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s none of your business what we decide to do.” You scoff. “But yeah, okay, I’m the Big Bad Meanie here so I’ll be ‘gentle’ or whatever.”

Yuto’s voice noticeably softens when he realizes you’re upset. “_____…”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you.” You brush off his hand. “Have a good workout.”

You stomp back over to your friends, and they both watch you quizzically as you approach. 

“What was that all about?” Nailah asks.

“It’s nothing.” Your first instinct is to just dismiss all of it, but these are two of your best friends. They deserve to know at least a little bit of the boy drama in your life - but you don’t want to spill the tea in the middle of the gym. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Shinhye chimes in, “Professor Yang left while you were gone. We thought you might run into him out there.”

“No, I didn’t see him. Just Yuto.”

“Who’s Yuto?” She asks. “The guy you were just talking to?”

Nailah responds for you, nodding. “He’s our neighbor, right across the hall.”

“Oh.” Shinhye chews timidly on the inside of her cheek. “He’s kind of cute, too.”

“Shinhye! I didn’t know you liked dark, brooding boys.” Nailah reaches out to smooth Shinhye’s hair, and Shinhye blushes.

“Apparently you really don’t know her type, Nailah.” There’s a slight edge to your voice as you say it. It’s just so weird to see Nailah being so forward with Shinhye, and you feel the need to stop it. Shinhye isn’t particularly vocal, so she probably won’t say anything if she’s feeling uncomfortable.

Seems like you’ll have to have a chat with Nailah later.

***

Kino meets you in your dorm’s lobby at exactly 6:15pm. Doors open for the dance department showcase in fifteen minutes, and you can sense the energy bubbling out of him when he arrives.

“Hi.” He bounces slightly, standing still for a moment before pulling you into a hug.

“Hi,” you echo, a small smile spreading across your lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Nervous. Oh my God, I’m nervous. But let’s not talk about that because I’ll literally die before the show.”

“My CPR skills aren’t exactly stellar, so I guess we should probably do what we can to keep you alive before that becomes necessary.”

“Good call.” He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and into the brisk night air. “You look really nice, by the way.”

“Thank you!” You look down at yourself, taking a second to button up your jacket over the burgundy dress and black tights you’ve chosen for the evening. Your heels click along the sidewalk as you walk, and then you realize how Kino is dressed; his burgundy pants didn’t immediately draw your attention, but you have to laugh at the coincidence now that you’ve noticed. “Oh my God, are we actually matching?”

Kino nods, laughing. “Yeah, we are.”

So this is what it feels like to wear a couple’s outfit... Obviously you’re not a couple, but it’s still kind of cute that you’ve got similar tastes in clothes.

Kino is oddly quiet as you make your way towards the theater, and you know it’s just because of his nerves. You speak up to try to distract him. “Is your family coming tonight?”

He shakes his head. “I didn’t invite them.”

“Oh.” That surprises you. “Why not? This is a big deal. I’m sure they’d love to be here.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that right now.” Kino frowns slightly, clearly bothered by the topic.

Has something happened? He never really talks about his family, so you don’t know what his relationship with them is like. 

Wait - he has talked about them before. You remember the first night you talked to him after R&B Ensemble practice, when you both bonded over your unsupportive parents. How could you be careless enough to forget something like that? Are you really that distracted by your own life?

“I’m sorry, Kino. I shouldn’t have brought that up.” You link your arm with his. “I’m here to support you no matter what.”

“Thanks, _____.” He smiles slightly. “And no worries. It’s fine.”

To keep the mood light, you chat with him about your excursion to the gym this morning, leaving out the parts about Professor Yang, of course. Mostly, you just complain about how you have to use the baby weights because everything else is too heavy.

Thankfully you can keep him chuckling until you’re seated in the theater and the lights go down, signaling the start of the show. That’s when the terror sets in - Kino takes a deep, nervous breath, and his leg bounces wildly as the first performers step on stage. His piece isn’t until a little later on in the show, but you know he’s going to feel anxious until then.

Normally it doesn’t bother you when someone else bounces their leg, but his movement shakes your chair and you don’t want to sit through the whole show like that. Without even thinking about it, you place your hand on his thigh, squeezing gently to grab his attention. His movement stalls and he stares at you wide-eyed.

You lean in so he can hear you whisper over the music. “It’s gonna be great, okay? Everyone’s going to love your piece.”

Kino’s gaze flits between your eyes, and it occurs to you just how close your faces are. Then his hand covers yours, and he smiles. “I was right to bring you along.”

His attention returns to the stage and he seems much calmer now, but you struggle to focus on the dancers. Your whole consciousness is alert to the fact that his hand is so warm and secure around yours, and for some reason that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster.

All rational thought goes out the window. When the first performance ends, you don’t want to let his hand go. Kino notices the way you cling to his hand when he tries to let go to clap, and he gives you a funny look - not one of judgment, but one of curiosity.

You’re immediately embarrassed, so you let go and hurriedly clap before the applause ends. 

It’s fine. You’re just friends. Friends can hold hands. It’s seriously not a big deal - worst case scenario, Kino’s just going to tease you a little bit after the showcase. You do your best to shake it off.

But then the applause ends, and Kino places his hand on your lap, palm up. It’s an invitation, and his smile makes it so that you cannot refuse. You interlace your fingers with his, your heart beating happily in your chest.

You don’t know what it means, or if it even means anything. But you’ll sort it out later.

That becomes your routine, your hands letting go only to clap between pieces and then quickly returning to each other. It feels foreign yet completely comfortable, exciting yet confusing. 

And then he squeezes your hand tightly and leans over, whispering in your ear, “This one is mine.”

For just a brief second you think he’s talking about your hand, but then you realize that he means his piece is next. Your cheeks flush because of the way you misunderstood him, but you pretend that didn’t just happen and whisper back, “I can’t wait.”

A delicate piano melody guides the two male dancers on stage, but it isn’t until the lyrics kick in that you realize just how mournful the performance is going to be.

“Don’t know where I am with you Forgetting time and space with you Oh I wish we had a common view You see my red as blue I don’t belong in your universe For better or for worse…”

The dancers move fluidly across the stage, embodying the story of two people - maybe lovers, maybe friends - who want to be together despite the invisible force that’s keeping them apart.

“I’m the same but I’m bolder You get home, but I’m on my way out now Not the same destinations I will stay when you get off the train…”

No, they don’t want to be together. It’s not mutual - you see that now, how one dancer is caught in the other dancer’s world and he is trying to break free. Is this an abusive relationship?

“You’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite Oh, oh, you’re safe as a mountain But know that I am dynamite…”

The pieces come together, and it suddenly makes sense. Maybe you’re making a huge assumption, but you can’t help but think that this is the story of Kino’s relationship with his family.

It moves you to tears, and you struggle to keep your composure. It feels like you’re watching a little piece of Kino’s soul through these dancers, and it’s devastating to think that someone as sweet and gentle as Kino would ever be caught in such a terrible situation. He deserves so much better than that. He deserves a family that loves him.

When the performance ends the whole audience applauds, but you can only look at Kino as he wipes away his tears, a melancholy smile on his lips. 

***

Kino walks you back to your dorm, and you stop just outside the front door. You haven’t said much since the performance because he was immediately bombarded by other students and professors coming up to congratulate him. But now, you finally have his undivided attention.

“Your piece was absolutely beautiful,” you gently praise him. “I think you’re incredibly talented to draw that much emotion out of the audience. Seriously, it was incredible.”

“Thank you.” He looks down, his soft voice accompanied by a shy smile. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you came with me tonight. Thank you so much for being there to support me.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Kino.” You pull him in for a hug, feeling proud of him and also feeling much closer to him than you were before. 

When you pull away, he asks, “Do you want to maybe come over for a little bit? Just to hang out?”

That would be nice, but you remember your plans with Wooseok. For some reason, though, it doesn’t feel right to tell Kino about that. “Ah, I can’t. I told Nailah I’d spend time with her tonight.”

You immediately feel guilty about the lie, but Kino isn’t bothered by your excuse. “Have fun with her, then.”

He reaches out, his hand gliding down your forearm until his fingers interlace with yours. You look down at your intertwined hands, your pulse quickening just as it did in the theater. You’re not sure why you react that way. And then you feel the soft press of lips on your forehead.

Did…? Did Kino just…?

You look up at him, shocked. He had just kissed you. What was that all about?

His eyes scan your face, the sweetest, gentlest smile on his lips. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You nod, still kind of confused and surprised by what just happened. But he walks off before you can really process it, and you just stand there like an idiot for a minute or two.

Reading into it is probably the worst thing you could do. Kino is a touchy guy, so it shouldn’t seem unusual for him to kiss you on the forehead. It’s just a sweet, friendly gesture, right? He probably doesn’t mean anything by it, so you shouldn’t assume he does.

The last thing you want is to make things weird. He’s a great friend, and you don’t want to lose him. So you’re not going to make a big deal out of this.

Desperate for a distraction, you pull your phone out as you head inside. A few texts from Wooseok are waiting for you, just as you had expected.

Wooseok (8:13pm): Still want to come over?

Wooseok (8:13pm): Minho just left and won’t be back until tomorrow

You respond.

You (9:02pm): Of course. Just got back. Give me 10 to freshen up and I’ll be over.

Wooseok (9:02pm): I’ll give you 5

You (9:03pm): 7?

Wooseok (9:03pm): 6.5 starting now. 

Wooseok (9:04pm): see u soon, short stuff 😘

***

You make it to his place in exactly seven minutes because you’re a glutton for punishment, but you think you’ve devised a plan to help you earn back his favor.

“You’re late.” He greets you at the door to his apartment.

“But I brought a gift.” You try your best to look cute as you hide the small ‘present’ behind your back. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

He looks suspicious, but he smiles slightly as he does what you ask. Into his large palms, you place the panties you’ve been wearing all day. If Minseo has taught you anything, it’s that men go crazy for a girl in a dress with nothing on underneath.

“You said you wanted to keep them, so these are for you.”

Wooseok’s eyes shoot open as he realizes it’s silky, lacy fabric puddled in his hands. He looks at them with a sly smile. “Are you wearing any right now?”

You just smile coyly and shake your head. Success.

“Christ, woman, get in here.” He grabs your wrist and pulls you inside, letting the door slam shut behind you. You don’t even have time to kick off your shoes before he picks you up, your legs naturally wrapping around his hips to hold yourself up.

Wooseok’s lips crash into yours like he can’t stand the thought of waiting one more second. He’s way too eager, but you could never complain. You love feeling so wanted.

He presses you against the wall and you lace your fingers into his hair, tugging gently as you bite his lower lip. A deep growl vibrates in his throat, and it immediately shoots pleasure straight to your core.

You let yourself moan as you feverishly return every kiss he offers. You just can’t get enough of him, and it’s making you crazy. 

For just a second you pull away, but only because you need more. “Bedroom?” you pant.

Wooseok nods and carries you deeper into the apartment, throwing open the door to the bedroom and dropping you onto the bed.

“Hey! I’m not a doll!” You lecture him, but you can’t help the giggle that escapes you. “Don’t toss me around like that.”

Wooseok just ignores you. “You’re wearing too many clothes.” His long fingers immediately find the buttons of your jacket, fiddling with one after the other until he pulls it off of you.

“It’s freezing outside! What did you expect? That I’d run across the street without a jacket on just so it would be easier for you to strip me? It’s bad enough that I came over without my tights on.”

“I mean… You probably would have gotten here when I asked you to if you hadn’t stopped to put a jacket on.” Wooseok runs his fingers over your bare thighs. “But next time, keep the tights on. They’re hot.”

“You’d like that?”

“Yeah, but you’re hot like this, too.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “You’d be hotter with your shirt off, if it counts for anything.”

“Sassy,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck. Still hovering over you, he grabs the back of his collar and easily pulls the t-shirt over his head.

You’re right - you definitely like him better without the shirt. His torso and arms are nicely toned, and he just looks so good. Even his face is somehow more attractive than it’s ever been, and you know you’ve made the right choice in coming over here tonight.

You touch his cheek, and you can sense the depth behind his irises as his eyes scan your face. He’s fully present, and you just want to live in this moment with him.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Like… I don’t know, you’re just fucking cute.” Wooseok dives in, laying you back onto the bed as his lips connect with yours. His hand starts at your neck and runs down over your arm before transferring to your hip, his kiss overwhelming your senses. Everything about him feels so good, so nice.

As you wrap your limbs around him, you remember what Yuto said to you at the gym this morning.

Be gentle with him.

Try not to hurt him.

Even though it’s none of Yuto’s business, you can’t help but keep his warnings in mind. The last thing you want to do is hurt Wooseok. This is all supposed to be harmless fun, after all.

You press a hand to his chest, silently asking him to stop kissing you.

“You good?” Wooseok asks, concerned.

“Yeah! I just wanted to make sure… You’re totally cool with this, right? Like, with us just being friends and doing this for fun? This isn’t going to make anything weird, right?”

Wooseok shrugs calmly. “Yeah, it’s cool with me. I don’t mind it at all and I promise I won’t get weird around you. You cool?”

You nod. “I’m cool with it. I just needed to know we were still on the same page. I, um, ran into Yuto today…”

“Shit, did he say something?”

“He told me to be careful with you. Like he thought I was going to break your heart or something.” You search his eyes. “Also, not cool that you told him about us. I thought this was going to be a private thing.”

Wooseok closes his eyes, sighing quietly. “I’m sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut. He’s my best friend and I tell him everything. I didn’t even think about it.”

“It’s okay. Just don’t go telling the rest of the school, okay?” You chuckle quietly, not quite realizing how much you sound like a certain Professor asking someone to keep things a secret.

“I won’t breathe a word of it to anybody else. I promise.” He smiles. “And don’t worry, I’m not gonna catch feelings.”

“Okay, I’m going to trust you on that. But if either one of us starts to feel something, we have to be honest and stop. Deal?”

“Deal. But, not gonna happen. You can’t lock me down, woman.”

You roll your eyes. “You can lock me down, tie me up, whatever you’re into…”

Wooseok lowers himself onto you again with a devilish grin. “You’re bad.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Probably just get you naked and plow you into tomorrow.”

Laughter bursts from you and you can’t control yourself. “Did you really just say that?”

He laughs too, never one to take himself too seriously. “Yeah, I think I did. That was pretty awful.”

You slide your fingers into his hair and pull him down to you, crashing your lips together now that your concerns are alleviated. Your body is already aching for release and you’ve hardly even started.

Wooseok’s large hands roam your body, gliding over your curves and massaging your chest. Your fingers trail down his back and the groan he emits is absolutely precious. It feels like it has been ages since you’ve gotten laid and suddenly you’re starving for it.

Every kiss fuels the fire burning deep within you, your core throbbing with want. Your legs are wrapped around his waist and you wiggle your hips in search of some sort of friction. 

Wooseok gets the message loud and clear. His hand glides under the skirt of your dress in search of your folds, which are already delightfully wet by the time he reaches them. Even though you’re more than ready, he teases you, taking his time to caress your most sensitive spot. 

A quiet moan escapes you, and you reach down between your bodies in search of his length. You just have to know what it feels like, what kind of fun you should expect for the rest of the night.

Your fingers brush over the front of his jeans until you find an unmistakable bulge, and he sighs deeply as you pass over it. The sound is actually really hot, and you know instantly that you need to get him naked. 

“Take off your pants,” you murmur against his lips, your fingers already working to unfasten his jeans. You get the button and zipper of his pants undone, and he steps out of his pants and boxers all at once.

Seeing Wooseok naked is both weird and thrilling, and you realize how incredibly sober you are. The last time you were here in his apartment, you were both a little drunk. But this time you’re not inebriated in the least bit.

You definitely don’t need any alcohol to be convinced that you should have sex with this man right the fuck now.

“Condom?” You seriously hope that he has some, because you definitely didn’t think to bring one over.

“Yeah, hold up.” He opens the top drawer of his dresser and pulls out a rubber from his stash.

You pull him back down onto the bed as soon as he’s within reach, and he chuckles at your eagerness. You climb on top of him, kissing him passionately and wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“I don’t want to wait,” you whine as you stroke him. He’s already incredibly hard, and he’s just the perfect size for you. Usually you would insist that foreplay is a good idea, but you are way too impatient at the moment. “I want you inside of me.”

“Then stop waiting.”

Wooseok tears open the condom packet and rolls it on, and you lift yourself up, lining him up with your entrance. 

You let out a slightly strained breath as you slide down onto him, your walls stretching around his girth as you finally fill yourself with his cock. You unfortunately have to take it easy since you completely skipped the foreplay bit, but you slowly rock your hips, indulging in every bit of pleasure even the smallest movements bring you.

Eventually you’re able to increase your speed, and you lean back, helping his cock hit just the right spot inside of you, the spot that you know will leave you blinded with ecstasy. 

You don’t even realize that you’re still in your dress until Wooseok’s hand pushes your skirt back, bunching it at your hip as you ride him. “Lemme see.”

He fixates on the place where your bodies connect, his gaze full of lust. The sight of him beneath you only serves to turn you on more, and it only gets more perfect when his thumb grazes over your clit.

“Oh my God, yes,” you murmur, placing a hand behind you to hold yourself up as you lean back more. Between Wooseok’s touch and the angle of his cock, you felt yourself very quickly becoming unraveled.

Wooseok’s fingers dig into your hip, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of you. Your walls contract tightly around him as you work yourself up, entirely obsessed with the beautiful pleasure pulsing through you. 

“I’m… so close…” You moan for him. “Please, keep going. Don’t change a thing.”

He groans softly. “Already, baby?”

“It feels good,” your voice is absolutely blissful. “Count down from five. Slowly.”

It’s something you like to do when you masturbate - you’ve practiced orgasming on demand because there’s something you absolutely love about forcing yourself to hold off right when you’re ready to explode.

Wooseok doesn’t question. He just keeps rubbing circles into your clit, and he counts. “Five.”

Your chest is already growing warm, your abdomen tight. 

“Four.”

You force yourself to take deep breaths, but they’re littered with moans.

“Three.”

Your pussy swells with pleasure, hot and electric.

“Two.”

“Fuck!” You can barely keep yourself together. “Please please please…”

“One, baby-”

“Oh!” 

You don’t just explode - you burst like a fucking broken dam. Ecstasy overwhelms you as you unintentionally squirt all over Wooseok’s stomach. You’re an absolute gushing mess for him, but you’re too caught up in your pleasure to care. Your whole body feels bathed in sunshine and you’re convinced there is no better feeling than this.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You’re brought back to reality when Wooseok finally speaks up. He looks absolutely shocked by what just happened, and you realize that you didn’t give him any sort of warning that you might soak him.

Panicked, you apologize. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up, you’re so fucking hot.”

Wooseok sits up and pulls you to him, kissing you more roughly than ever. You eagerly return each kiss, grateful that he’s not upset like you originally thought. 

“Wooseok,” you smile against his lips at what you’re about to say. “I think now’s the time to get me naked and plow me into tomorrow.”

He laughs loudly, and his smile is adorable. “Hell yeah.”

In no time, your dress is on the floor and Wooseok has you pinned under him. Per his request you’re lying on your stomach, and he straddles your legs. He nestles his cock between your thighs, pressing into your slit with a pleased groan. 

“Shit, you feel good.” He holds himself up on his forearms, and his lips find your shoulder as he thrusts into you. He starts slow but very quickly picks up the pace until you’re both panting.

You lift your hips as much as you can to meet him, your fingers deftly working your clit. A second orgasm is definitely feasible at this rate, but you’re not going to try to force it.

Wooseok leaves a trail of bites and sucks from your shoulder up your neck until he reaches your ear. He sucks your earlobe into his mouth, biting and toying with your earring as he pounds into you. The sensation drives you wild, and very suddenly you crash into another orgasm.

A weird half-squeak, half-moan comes out of you as you dissolve beneath him, and you hear a strange series of noises come from Wooseok, too. He starts to laugh, but it’s strained and broken up by strangled, awkward moans as he finishes - then he collapses on top of you, shaking with laughter.

You know he’s definitely laughing at the sound you made, and you’re definitely laughing at the way he just laughed through his orgasm. It’s just such a drastic change of mood, and it’s absolutely endearing the way he clutches onto you as he laughs.

Wooseok is everything you thought he might be in bed, and it doesn’t even phase you that your hookup ended in a less-than-hot circumstance. How could you be bothered when you’re laughing this hard?

Something about the laughter makes his embrace feel exceptionally warm. And you kind of adore that.

You feel lighter than you have in a while, even though you’re sort of being crushed by him.

“Can’t breathe!” You squeal.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, rolling off of you and onto his back. “Hey, whatever the fuck that noise was, it was super cute.”

“I could say the same about your laughing orgasm,” you retort, scooting closer to him to indulge in his warmth.

Wooseok pushes your hair back, his dark chocolate eyes locking with yours. “It’s your fault I laughed through it. I don’t know how the hell your voice even got that high.” 

Just for fun, you try to recreate the noise, reaching as high as you can through your vocal range to pull out the most ridiculous note you’re capable of. You both laugh at your attempt, and then Wooseok gives it a try - and somehow far surpasses whatever pitch you had managed.

His eyes get so wide you think they might just fall out of his head, and you laugh more hysterically than you ever have in your life. It has to be physically impossible for him to screech as high as he just did, but he succeeded!

“Wooseok, what the fuck?” It’s impossible to catch your breath, but you manage to get some words out.

“I don’t even know.” He shakes his head and shrugs, laughing right along with you.

Eventually you’re both able to calm down. Your arm is draped across his chest, and his hand glides up and down your spine in a way that soothes you. The friends-with-benefits line is a little blurred because you’re not sure if cuddling is part of that package, but as per usual you tell yourself that you’ll figure it out later. You’d rather just enjoy yourself.

“_____?” Wooseok gently breathes your name into your hair, and you prop yourself up on your elbow so you can look at him. He’s gorgeous and you don’t know how you didn’t see it before. “I’m glad you came over.”

You don’t think - you just act on instinct. Your fingers glide up to his cheek and you lean down to kiss him. Wooseok’s lips are warm and soft, and the kiss is sensual and provocative and...

And it melts deep into your heart, lighting you up from head to toe.

It stirs up every romantic thought that you know you shouldn’t have about him.

Fuck.

Post Script | Thank you for reading! Please stay tuned for Part 7.

All Rights Reserved © gwentoryfics. No translations, reposting, and/or modifying of the material is allowed without my direct permission.

[apocalyvse]

11/11/11

I was tagged by @water-writings <3

1. Do you write fanfictions or original stories and did you ever write fanfiction?

I write (and always have written) both; I actually started writing fanfiction when I was like 10 years old, before I even knew what fanfiction was, and then later discovered that it was a whole thing. For quite a few years now fanfic has been my main thing, but I’ve got a few original things that I’m knuckling down on this year and really enjoying, so we’ll see.

2. Did you ever write your stories in the middle of class instead of paying attention?

Not in the middle of class really, but I did write like half a harry potter au fic sort of thing based off of some rp characters at the end of my year 11/12 exams. The exams were like 3 hours long each, and like, I’m not smart but I am pretty quick at theory stuff so I’d have 1.5-2 hours per exam to fill, and I would never use the note paper for notes. So I’d fold my note paper into 8ths and write reeeeeally really small and fill it all up during my extra exam time. (I still have the sheets of paper if anyone wants to see xD)

3. How many notebooks do you have filled with your writing?

Since somewhere in 2015, I have filled 25 notebooks; not including anything I wrote straight out on a computer, on my phone, on random pieces of paper, or in other notebooks that aren’t included in my numbering system, which I have lmao.

4. What’s your favorite way to write? Notebook, Word Doc, Google Docs?

By hand in notebooks. I used to write in a word doc, and I still use word to type up into and edit it, but I find writing by hand really pushes my word counts up, and forces me to do an initial edit when I type it up, especially with fanfic because I don’t draft fanfic.

5. Do you write by yourself or do you need people writing with you?

I’ve always written alone - most of my friends don’t even know that I write, or don’t write anymore themselves, so it’s just me and myself over here. I was in a writing club at school for a while, and we tried to do a couple projects together, but the group got off course way too easily and nothing really got done, so I prefer to be alone with something I’m really passionate about finishing.

6. Have you ever cowritten with someone?

When I was liiiiiike 12, my friend and I co-wrote a lot of Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfic lmao, which to this day is one of my favourite writing memories. And I co-wrote an entire 50k ‘novel’ with my friend during middle school, which was actually pretty good fun - we traded off chapters and worked together on plot and worldbuilding and actually finished the whole thing. It was horrible (I can’t look at it anymore it’s so cringey), but a good experience to have. I’ve co-written with a few friends online too, with mixed results - nothing that’s ever really gone anywhere though.

7. Who do you bounce ideas off of?

No one lmao. I just throw them into the story and see if they work.

8. Have you ever taken an experience from your life and written it into a story?

Definitely! The most obvious example would probably be the series of short stories I’ve written and posted on this horse racing game I play, Flying For Home, which are sometimes drawn directly from stuff that happens around my workplace in real life, seeing as I work with racehorses in a big stable (the premise of the short stories lmao). 

Another example I can think of is, funnily enough, my other horse-related project; a novel called Vertigo, for which I have drawn on a lot of my own personal history and people that I’ve met in my life and thrown it into the mixing pot. It’s a bit of a personal daydream tbh xD Other than those, there’s a little bit of myself in everything I write, I think, though it’s hard to pick out sometimes.

9. Favorite type of music to listen to while you write.

I usually don’t let myself listen to music when I write, but if I do, it’ll be the playlist I inevitably have for the story, turned down very quiet so that it fades into the background - usually just pop and alternative/indie sort of stuff.

10. Have you ever had anyone give you “advice” that hurt you and prevented you from writing for a while?

I don’t think I’ve ever had anything that stopped me from writing, and I’ve certainly never had criticism from outsiders/strangers or whatever (generally people just ignore me). But I do keep my mum at a distance from my writing, as she tends to just push and push me to ‘publish something already’ and gives off the mentality of ‘it’s not worth wasting your time on if it won’t make you money’. She uh...doesn’t know that I have published over 100k of fanfic this year. Lol. She’s only trying to be supportive, in her own way, and I appreciate it, but I just don’t mention it to her very often, because she’s never really ready to listen to my point of view on it.

11. Have you ever had fans of your writing pester to write a certain way?

I don’t have fans xD

And from @starsandstormyseas because you asked good questions and I Want To...

1. Have you ever had an idea that sounded really great in your head, but when you started writing it, came out terrible for whatever reason?

Yesssss, Flicker has gone through 9 versions in 2 years because every time I start it, it just goes very quickly in directions that I don’t want it to and it never feels right. This version I’m working on now is the first time I’ve really liked all the ways I could go with it so hopefully we’re past book 2 blues and back on track.

2. What’s your favorite part in writing a story? The relationships (or shipping), the plot, the worldbuilding, something else?

The like, ‘main’ scenes, the big hitters. The culmination of all the middle bits into that one main plot point. And relationships too, though not romantic persay - I just really enjoy the scenes where two characters will bounce off of each other for like 7 pages of dialogue, whether its enemies, or friends, or romantic.

3. And weird habits you do when writing, or to keep yourself writing?

I write by hand mostly, and I have my own system to mark as I’m going sentences I don’t like, or words that don’t really fit but I couldn’t think of the right one, or facts I’ve made up on the fly that need to be googled. If I just mark down stuff that I want to change later as I go, I find that I set myself free in a way, and I can just move on without getting stuck on a google spiral (also I don’t forget to fix my plot holes later).

4. Do you keep the internet on or off when you write?

On, though it’s very distracting when I’m trying to write straight on my laptop lmao

5. What books, authors, fics, or any media, have heavily influenced your writing style?

I spent a lot of my childhood reading Enid Blyton and authors like her; older books, mostly my mum’s books from when she was a child, and things from my hometown’s very, very outdated library. So they had a huge impact on the way I learnt to write (they also had an impact on the way I talk too, but that’s another story). More recently, the whole tone and way that fanfic in general is written has really influenced me, and I’d like to think I’ve adopted it and made it my own in a good way.

6. What time is the best time to write? Day, night? Morning, evening?

Evening/night; some days, I cannot focus until like 8pm when I go to bed. And then I lose sleep because I’m writing but y’know. For editing/typing up, that’s a late afternoon kind of job.

7. Is there anyone IRL that you let read your work? 

I have a group of friends that I’ve known for 8 years now that are allowed to read my work. We used to rp together and all used to write and so we all know how bad we were back in the day xD. One girl from that group has been my friend since kindergarten, so she has always had me shoving handfuls of words in her face. There’s been a few other friends that have read some of my stuff, but not all of it, and the older I get, the less I share.

8. How do you handle negative or unhelpful reviews or critique? Does it impact the way you write?

I’ve never had any negative response, so I don’t know. The silence when you’re 4 chapters deep and no one has reviewed is deafening though.

9. Do you respond to every comment/reply you get? If not, which ones get your attention and why?

I only respond to the long/sincere ones, because I feel like they deserve some encouragement in return for taking the time to really let me know what they thought.

10. Ever gotten weird, unsolicited messages asking to join an RP group or some such because this person apparently read your writing (but probably didn’t)?

Hah. Once or twice.

11. What is your favorite platform to post your writing, talk about writing, or anything like that? 

My favourite place to post and to read by far is AO3 - but I find the best platform to get feedback on is FF.net. My favourite place to talk about writing is over here on tumblr.

MY QUESTIONS

How do you get yourself to focus on writing?

What’s your favourite thing you’ve ever written?

Tell me about your current WIP.

Do you write for yourself or for an audience?

Do you share your writing with anyone you know in real life?

What’s the nicest comment/review you’ve ever gotten?

What platform do you prefer to post your work on?

Do you plot or pants?

What have you learnt while writing your stories?

Do you remember the first story you ever wrote?

Can you give a spoiler for your WIP?

Tagging (from writer peeps) @converginglives, @pen-in-hand (if you want another one I think mel got you xD), @aethryos, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @siriusguided, @insertpenname-here, @indecentpause, @writing-at-dusk @sillyliterature @anoddconstellationofthoughts @writingtomorrow

[scriptureofashes]

(Not) Guilty (Part 1/2)

So by popular demand, here it is, folks. The direct sequel to (Not) Sorry. This will be a two part piece (which will then be later posted in whole in my ao3) and as I tell you in the ao3 version, a winteriron fic.

Enjoy Part 1! (Enjoy about 5000 words written through blood and sweat lmao I need sleep)

Rhodey found him in the shop. Obviously.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

Tony muttered something in return, made unintelligible by the screwdriver in his mouth. He wasn’t in the mood for basic socialization. He never was, frankly.

“Tones.”

Tony kept working.

“Tony.”

“Are the legs acting up again? I’ve been working on something that can recalibrate—”

Rhodey sighed. “Tony, come on—”

“Come on what.”

The sound of the screwdriver slamming on the table echoed, loud and uncomfortable. Tony winced. He didn’t mean to be so dramatic. Well, he didn’t mean to be more dramatic than usual.

“Sorry. I—sorry.”

“What are you even apologizing for?”

Ruining your life? Ruining other people’s lives? Ruining the world as we know it?

“I ate your pancake share. I’d feel guilty, but Bruce’s cooking kind of counteracts any sort of negative emotion. I suspect Strange did something.”

Rhodey’s unimpressed eyebrow was enough to tell his bullshit had been called.

“First, you took my share right out of my hands and ran off with the most maniacal laugh I’ve ever heard from you. Second, you’re not working on anything even remotely related to what you just said, considering the Captain America shield is on full display.”

Tony blinked. Well, I never thought I’d see the day I’d bring this much stupid into my own workshop.

“Tony, what are you doing?”

He sighed. “Nothing. Fri, if you please.”

“Yes, boss.” The hologram immediately changed into Mark XLVII.

“Nothing? That didn’t look like nothing. You’re not giving them upgrades, are you?”

Tony’s silence was answer enough.

“I’m going to beat your ass.”

“That’s not nice.”

“God, Tony,” Rhodey sighed, again. He rounded the table and took the wrench right out of his hold. “Did you simply forget what happened? What Rogers said? What Barton said?”

“Of course I didn’t forget, but whether I like it or not the ‘gang’,” he did the air quotes and everything, “Is back at it again, and it’s my job to provide with what I can.”

“No, it’s not. You’re doing this out of the goodness in your heart, is what you’re doing. Don’t deny it, damn it,” he warned as Tony prepared to argue. “You’ve settled things so that they could return, for duty. For our home. For our world. You’ve signed the pardon, for duty. You’ve put on the suit once more, for duty. But this?”

Rhodey waved the wrench in his face.

“This isn’t an obligation. This is another attempt of yours at an apology, at reconciliation, with you being the one to put aside your pride and dignity, like always.”

“Did you maybe consider I wanted to see whether mine or Shuri’s tech would work best?”

“Right, because you haven’t already had 5-hour long Skype conversations with her and incorporated her methods into yours.”

Guilty.

It was Rhodey’s turn to slam his hand on the table.

“You’re already playing host. You’re already giving up your time, money and space to house them, when the government could’ve perfectly done that themselves without you having yet another mental breakdown over these assholes.”

“To be fair, the government would have given them atrocious installations and—”

“And it would have been well deserved.”

In his experience, Tony knew arguing with Rhodey when he was that riled up would be fruitless, so he said nothing. He hadn’t been about to disagree, per se. It would be a long-overdue lesson in humility. But he just… knew. He knew they would think he was behind the whole ordeal, that he would be the one to demand them placed in heinous lodging out of spite, sneering at him for it behind his back.

As if they don’t do that already.

Still. He wasn’t about to risk getting shot in the knee during the upcoming battle by what they all would claim was an alien, turning a blind eye to Barton’s suddenly emptier quiver.

“Look, Tones.” For a minute, Rhodey didn’t say anything. He had his ‘My best friend is an idiot and I don’t know how to deal with it’ brow on. “I’m not saying they shouldn’t be here. They’re the only ones that can help. But I’ve noticed something. Something that’s been happening since the very beginning of this whole Avengers business.”

“In my defense, I haven’t had much time to go to the dresser and cover them up—”

“It’s not your grey hairs. Though it might be related,” he said. He looked thoughtful, instead of defiant. “You compromise. A lot. You compromise with everyone in all senses of the word, even where the smallest of things is concerned.”

He paused.

“You compromise where you shouldn’t. Maybe it’s time you stopped that.”

“Fri?”

“It’s 3:42 in the am, boss. No one is in the kitchen.”

Tony would have fired a comeback about late night cravings for some leftover chinese, which was a real thing that afflicted everyone, but the relief at finally being able to wander around his own house without imminent risk swallowed it back. Granted, he was popping out because Bruce had apparently stress-baked blueberry muffins and those went divine with coffee, but it counted as leaving the shop.

After 36 hours. He could swear Pepper found a way to project herself into his mind to chide him at the proper occasion. His brain couldn’t sound so properly vexed at himself.

Friday turned on and dimmed the lights for him, despite the clear moonlight seeping through the slim panes of the windows. Tony could hear the clock ticking somewhere as he picked one of the two muffins left, cutting through the silence of the night like a reminder—a reminder of how little time they most likely had.

Thankfully, there was some remaining coffee in the mug, so he went without the usual ruckus of coffee machines (maybe he should give it another tweak). Bruce had probably known he would venture out and went to bed only after leaving him fresh coffee. He’d tried making Tony sleep in the past. He gave up the lost cause.

He knew about the nightmares, now.

“Fri, give me Princess Shuri’s drafts on the shield.”

His own voice made all of his hairs stand on end, even if whispered. He knew it was dangerous to display this in the middle of the kitchen, connected to the common area as it was, but there were details on the wakandan princess’s plans for a new shield that Tony was having a hard time figuring out, and damn him if he wasn’t going to spare every break on them.

Her ideas were complex and far more advanced than anything he’d ever come up with. Shuri worked in ways Tony only ever briefly considered and then dismissed, never quite knowing how to get there. He honestly never thought he’d see the day when someone smarter than him would make it possible, or that they’d be a sixteen-year-old girl. Bright, young minds indeed.

It made his blood rush with excitement. A challenge. Finally.

“Zoom in on—yes, exactly.” He took a bite out of the muffin—delicious, as expected—and gulped down some coffee. “Now, see, I don’t quite understand how she wants to…”

“Boss?”

“Brilliant, maybe too brilliant for me. I can’t—oh. Oh!”

Tony almost spilled coffee everywhere. He was going to mail this kid three dozen boxes of American candy and all the Coachella tickets she wanted.

“Ha, you clever kid, you!”

“Boss.”

Of course! Of freaking course, how did he not—

“Jesus Christ.”

The Winter Soldier blinked.

“No. Just me.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

Though the physical differences are slim to none.

Tony quickly swiped left before Barnes could see anything and backtracked to the sink, hackles raised. He suppressed the impulse to press his hand on his chest out of habit, or to call for a suit and blast himself far, far away from the compound. He remembered seeing a knife among the dishes in the sink, but he wasn’t stupid enough to glance at it.

The soldier remained on the couch, unperturbed. Too far away from the kitchen lights, he was almost a shadow, cloaked in light and dark both. The usual unkempt bird’s nest of a hair was tied up in a bun to keep it from his face, only to accentuate the sharpness of his jawline. He looked every bit a heartless assassin.

Tony scrutinized the area for a tactical retreat without having to turn his back to him. “Lover’s spat?”

Barnes looked like he’d almost frowned.

“What?”

“You and Rogers.” He slowly moved around the island. “Did he kick you out of the bed already?”

“I’m not going to put a knife to your throat, Stark.”

Tony really should have known better. One armed or not, it was the Winter Soldier. The Winter Soldier. Brief flashes of roadways and car crashes played behind his eyes, but Tony locked those images away in less than a split second.

“I distinctly remember the Accords stating you weren’t allowed near anything sharp without supervision until they deemed you able,” Tony stated simply. “So I suspect not.”

There didn’t seem to be a hint of resentment at those words. In fact, Barnes looked almost relieved.

“I don’t blame them.” He paused. Tony thought that was that, then, “Steve and I… we ain’t together.”

“Like I care.”

Even in the dark, Tony saw grey eyes peering at him.

“We aren’t together,” Barnes repeated, as if to make a point Tony was missing. “We never were and we never will be.”

A point Tony was now deliberately missing.

“Spare me your pathetic pining, Kristoff. If you’re looking for a pity party, you’d better look elsewhere.”

A crash—his father’s blood—his mother’s whimpers—a murderer’s cold eyes—

“I remember all of them.”

Tony retreated to the shop before Barnes could say anything.

The liquor stash he’d kept down at the workshop of the Avengers tower had never gained a twin for the new one once the team moved to the compound, thanks to Pepper and Rhodey, but as Tony sat on its couch and watched his former companions patter idly about the common area through his surveillance cameras, he felt that old thirst make its return in full force.

This is what my life has come to. Wary and confined to parts of his own home, reliant on Friday showing him if the coast was clear, lest he came face to face with yet another unpleasant, uncivil confrontation with the people poisoning his life. The people that accepted him with open arms and too wide smiles, only to break him into a thousand pieces.

You’d think he’d have learned his lesson by now.

They tried getting into the workshop. Of course they did. They came, high on entitlement and set on more degrading words with the arrogant and ungrateful Tony Stark. They came, and outside they stayed, in clear anger at being denied access by the smooth voice of a fuming AI.

Rogers was the one hardest to watch. He wouldn’t even come angry—determined, maybe, but never angry. Desperate suited him better, as well as… contrite. He wouldn’t demand, he would beg—in his own Captain America fashion—and he would stare straight at the eye of the beholder, very obviously aware of Tony watching, or at least in hopes of so. He would speak to Friday like he was speaking to Tony, always saying the same thing.

“I just want to talk.”

His face remained ever composed, but there was real pain in those blue eyes every time he was denied access, and Tony really, really didn’t know what to make of that.

They were trying to watch a movie of sorts now, it seemed. Tony once made the mistake of leaving the sound on when checking up on them. He’d pretended not to feel the stabs at his chest upon hearing the things they’d said about him.

“I can’t believe he’s bitter about that, what a selfish—”

“Still arrogant as ever, it seems—”

“He gets pissed when I give him a piece of his medicine, but I’m not allowed to get revenge for my family? He knows nothing of the pain I—”

No sound. Just video. It was safer that way.

“My ears tell me of you forging yet another offering of weapons for the very people who betrayed your trust.”

“Alright, you know what.” Tony took half a moment to bank back the heart attack, wiped down his greasy hands and reached for the drawer on his desk. “Here you go, Rudolph. A shiny bell to match your shiny nose.”

Loki caught the green collar with one hand and one eyebrow raised.

“I do not have a shiny nose.”

Tony quickly disabled Friday’s live display, but Loki wouldn’t be known as the Trickster if he weren’t smart enough to know what he’d been watching. His eyes narrowed.

“You fear them.”

“I don’t fear them.” Not exactly.

Loki contemplated him. It was still odd to see him in Earth clothing, but an all black suit was an unsurprisingly good fit on him. Completely out of place in a mechanic’s haven, but Tony wasn’t one to talk about donning expensive suits just because he could around the house, now was he?

“You do.”

“Was there a point to you coming here?”

“Ah, yes. We’re having one of those ‘movie-marathons’ tonight as you call them, per young Peter’s insistence. Banner even brought some of those dough and cheese based pies.”

Tony blinked. It’s Thursday already?

“There was no pizza in Asgard? No wonder it got blown up by Ghost Rider's evil grandfather.”

Tony went to check on his drafts, disconcerted by the sudden pass of time, but was halted by Loki’s hand on his shoulder. His expression was unreadable. It always was.

“Stop trying to appease them, Stark.”

Then he left without another word.

These damn Asgardians, I swear.

Due to circumstances, his team—minus Romanoff—took their business to the wing set opposite the one now occupied by Cap’s team, where another, slightly smaller common area was built. There was no kitchen or even a dining room, seeing as Tony’s plan had been to spare it for visitors, so it was more of a living room than anything. He certainly didn’t plan on using it, and he certainly didn’t plan on, you know, using it to avoid certain people. In his own property.

Yet if he so much as issued a part of the compound that wasn’t his workshop restricted, he’d be labelled the asshole again and the slowly steadying dynamic would tip again. So, he let things be.

Decorators had settled on a teal theme, turned dark green by the late afternoon sun. Thor was already sprawled out on a couch, his brother comfortable on the armchair beside him. Bruce and Rhodey engaged in casual conversation. Peter, to Tony’s amusement, sat on the Asgardian king’s belly and gobbled down a slice of pizza that looked legitimately bigger than his head.

“Slow it down, pygmy shrew. Leave some for me.”

“Mr. Stark!”

“Man of Iron!”

Thor actually sprung from the couch and to his side, all joy and smiles and paying no mind whatsoever to the kid he’d just sent spiraling over.

“We were beginning to think you would not join us in the merriment!”

“For God’s sake, just say fun, Thor.”

It was… weird, for lack of a better word, to see him short-haired and one-eyed. Sure, Tony had more time to adjust than some, seeing as Thor had gone to him upon hearing about the disbanded Avengers—he somehow remembered how Tony had predicted what was on its way—but he was like a literal reflection on how things had changed.

A literal reflection who hugged his lungs out.

“Okay, okay, let go, let go, let go.” Thor put him down with a godsworn pout. “Happy to see you too, big guy. But I don’t hug, that’s general knowledge.”

From his spot on the floor, Peter saluted. “General Knowledge.”

“You’re grounded.”

The kid had the nerve to cackle. Youths these days, so disrespectful.

“What have you been working on that’s got you so holed up in that lab?” Bruce asked, even if his voice tone implied he knew. And disapproved.

“Nothing too important.”

Bruce looked about ready to rebuffel, but Rhodey cut in. “He’s right, it’s not important. It’s not going for clearance. At all.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of what I do with my inventions.”

“You’re not a weapons manufacturer anymore, Tones. Legally, I could impeach your ass and confiscate whatever war tech you build.”

Tony gaped. “Now see here—”

“Of course I’m not gonna do it. Just know that I can, and I will if I must.”

“If you must? What exactly am I supposed to do here, then?”

Building and fixing things was what he did. If he wasn’t allowed to do that, then there was no purpose to him on the team whatsoever. And if—if—

“You’re supposed to be minding your own damn business, is exactly what. We are not having this argument, Tones,” he perfuncted. “Now sit back and watch Return of the Jedi.”

“Ugh, again?”

Tony woke up on the floor with a horrible back ache, a mouthful of Peter’s hair and a blanket of Avengers. And cold sweat on his temples. He weaseled out of the cocoon and back to work, popped tires and fiery, starry darkness a ghost in his mind.

“Jesus!”

“No, still me.”

Tony watched Barnes eat his cereal in complete disbelief. He had his hair down this time, and was still in dire need of a shave. Seriously, was it in now, for super soldiers to loathe razors?

“How are you doing that? Friday, what gives?”

“I’m sorry boss. He just seems to appear out of nowhere.”

“Out of—” Tony ran a hand down his face. Ex-assassins.

Barnes raised his brow at him, looking entirely unimpressed, as if being incognito had been his intention all along. Tony was reminded of the silent and efficient kill method of the Winter Soldier, the few reports he bothered to read of dead Hydra targets without a clue as to whom or what killed them.

Cold adrenaline burned then. Once is an anomaly, twice is a coincidence…

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Barnes blurted, immediately scrapping every conclusion Tony had drawn in that one half-moment.

Everything about this guy was… disorienting. Barnes stared at his bowl of Lucky Charms almost like he was afraid of looking Tony in the eye, which was ridiculous, really. If anything, Tony should be the one shrinking in on himself—or not, given what he just heard.

“How do you know that?” Tony asked and immediately winced. Shuri had made sure to send a mentally apt Barnes for the new Avengers cause, so there was no trigger-word concern anymore. In theory.

Barnes looked up, and the simple act seemed to bring him pain, clear and sharp in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Tony didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

I assaulted you. I almost killed you. I blasted your damn arm off. And you don’t want to hurt me.

He got his coffee and made to go back to the—

“I’m sorry.”

Tony froze mid-step and didn’t turn around.

“It’s worth nothin’. It won’t bring ‘em back and it doesn’t make up for it, not by a long shot,” and at this Barnes made a sound, that self-deprecating, pathetic laugh Tony was all too familiar with himself, “But know that I’m so, so sorry.”

There was a pause. Tony still didn’t dare glance at him, unwilling to see what expression matched the utter sincerity and regret in that rasp of a voice.

“And I understand why you don’t trust me. So I’ll say it again: I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tony wanted to scream. He wanted to hurl his coffee at the wall, he wanted to shake Barnes until sense came to him, he wanted to cry his stomach sick. A part of him wanted to assure the ex-assassin he couldn’t hurt him even if he tried. The other begged to let him, in hopes he’d succeed.

Tony did neither. He crept back to the shop, ignoring how violently his hands shook.

“You know, when I said ‘don’t make weapons for the Avengers’ and told you to focus on something else, this isn’t what I meant.”

“I’m sure that’s close to what Raza thought when he told me to build the Jericho and I blew up his base instead, but what’re we gonna do?”

Rhodey sighed, then a flashdrive and a huge stack of papers were deposited on the table. A nail rolled across them and onto the floor, but Tony’s attention was drawn to the Russian words peeking at the corner of an age-old folder. Bruce, previously focused on his own side of their current project, looked up in confusion.

“What’s all this?”

“Everything you need to know about Sergeant Barnes and more. From where USSR first took him to and when, to his stay on Wakanda.” Rhodey turned to Tony. “I thought you already went through the reports?”

“That’s right, you thought.”

Tony had been indeed given these same papers, post his disagreement with Cap and said man’s exile, right when he’d wanted absolutely nothing to do with Bucky Barnes. They were sent back in less than a day, spared nothing more at than a disturbed glance.

Now, though… Tony did a mental pause. Now what?

“Should I be concerned? I mean, last time you pulled something unexpected you became Iron Man,” Rhodey said. “And you taking a sudden interest in the man who murdered your parents is unexpected.”

Bruce took the liberty to flicker through the papers, already frowning.

“When said man is a guest in the compound, I’m going to take such an interest.”

Friday displayed the contents of the flashdrive. A myriad of information settled itself on screen, then the face of 1940’s James Buchanan Barnes was staring back at him. The contrast between this roguish man and the broken one Tony had actually met almost made him reel backwards. The eyes were the same, even through outdated, poor quality photos, yet the ghosts that now haunted them were nowhere to be seen.

“He fell off the train in 1945 and was found by the Russians. Not by Hydra, like most people think…”

Bruce kept reading aloud, words Tony’s brain didn’t process as he was too busy assimilating the absolute horror he was shown. He’d suspected some of what he read, but this—

Torture—brainwashing—violent punishment—

“Fuck.”

“Tones?”

Memory wipes—isolation as punishment—starvation as punishment—mind control—

His mind brought him back to Afghanistan before he could even process it, to cold heat of caves and metal and stale water, to—

“Ton—”

There were photos. Visuals to accompany the reports on progress, proof that proper discipline methods were being exercised—so it read. Depictions of red, yellow, black, blue. Bruises. Blood matted skin and hair. Countless lacerations. Protruding bones. Swellings from head traumas.

Utter gore.

“Oh my God.”

There were videos. The one playing was of not many, caught in very, very poor quality, but you could clearly see Barnes and the chair he was strapped to. And the electric flares on his head.

And you could hear the screaming. The screaming.

“Jesus fuck…”

Tony didn’t even admonish Bruce’s swearing. He was too busy throwing up his coffee.

Bruce’s tea was hot on his palms and burned going down his throat. All heads-up displays were disabled, all music muted. His shop was silent but for his bots’ whirrs and the disturbing sound of four human beings breathing.

“I’m sorry.”

Bruce frowned. Tony gestured to the coffee mug Dummy was currently replacing.

“Wasted your coffee.”

He was then on the receiving end of three varying expressions of disbelief. No, two—Rhodey actually looked exasperated instead.

“Tony. You had a completely acceptable reaction to what you just saw.”

“It was damn good coffee, though. I’m—”

“Stop apologizing.”

Tony stared at Strange. The wizard stared back. Didn’t so much as blink, eyes hard to read. Tony opened his mouth—

“Stop apologizing. And drink that.”

Strange then gestured open a portal back to the Sanctum and left with a twirl of that infuriating red cloak.

Tony shot his tea a haughty look. I knew it.

The lockdown mode lasted for five days. Well, the extra lockdown settings did. About five people in the compound had access codes to his shop. For five days, they didn’t.

For five days, Tony was AWOL. For five days, Tony processed what he’d learned. Sat shrouded in nothing but darkness and the cyan blue light of his monitors, Tony watched Bucky Barnes. He watched him do his work out routine. He watched him eat breakfast. He watched him eat lunch. He watched him eat dinner. He watched him skip movie night and go to bed.

For five days, Tony watched him. And he noticed. He noticed that Barnes’ work out routine ended when somebody else joined him. He noticed that Barnes always ate alone. He noticed that Barnes skipped his team’s bonding hour to sit in the gym and stare at nothing. Or the compound garden, or the compound roof, or anywhere that got him alone.

Or anywhere that got him away from his team.

Tony already knew what kind of shitstorm awaited him once he authorized the codes again. Rhodey was probably pissed. Bruce was probably concerned. Peter was probably hurt. Thor was probably sad, and Loki… well, Loki wasn’t probable, but Tony guessed he wasn’t pleased.

He wasn’t referring to the Avengers, no, currently enjoying their own movie night in their own common area, either oblivious or impervious to Tony’s lockdown mode. He could have fucked off to someplace, and they’d still sit and talk and laugh among each other as they watched Pulp Fiction. He could have up and left the planet, and they’d still plot behind his back.

Like they were now.

“Hey, not for nothin’ or nothin’,” Barton said, from his spot sprawled on Romanoff’s legs, “But have you talked to Rhodes yet?”

The question was apparently directed at Rogers, who sighed. Tony was quick to note Barnes next to him, looking for all he cared like he didn’t care to be there at all. He maintained enough proximity to his best friend for no risk of questions asked, yet he was too stiff and too focused on the screen while in fact not paying any attention to the movie. Tony was surprised, trained ex-assassins and ex-militaries as most of them were, at how nobody noticed this.

(Or maybe they did. And chose to ignore it.)

“He says it’s not in his place to give us the access codes. And neither is, uh, acting messenger boy.” Sam let out a cynical laugh. “He says if we want to talk to him, we’ll have to go to him ourselves.”

Barton raised his arms in the air. “He won’t let us talk to him! The stick in his ass got even deeper after what happened in Leipzig.”

“Clint—”

“Look, his fragile little ego got Hulk smashed, and Hulk wasn’t even there. We gotta handle this before shit hits the fan again, Cap.”

“Thor said—”

“I know what Thor said about this Thanos guy. That’s not the shit I was referring to.”

Rogers, for no change whatsoever, looked confused.

“We wounded his pride,” Romanoff clarified. “We wounded his pride, and we don’t know where he is or what he’s up to. He took Ross out of the Accords to be monitored by the Colonel instead, as we know, who won’t tell us if Tony’s even in the premises.”

She pushed Barton off her to sit up and stare straight at the Captain.

“Tony is dangerous and reckless when his pride is on the line, so we have to take control of the situation before it becomes one.”

Almost imperceptibly, Barnes shifted on the couch. Rogers didn’t see.

“What do you mean?”

“She means, maybe he’s finding a way to bench us before the big game,” Barton answered, looking at the ceiling. “Maybe this whole ‘welcome home’ thing is a ruse to keep us in the dark. Maybe we should get back on the run before he gets those arrest warrants ready. Maybe we should be gearing up for another Ultron situation. He’s too arrogant to trust us.”

Barton opened his mouth to continue, but what Tony and the others heard came in a voice that definitely wasn’t his.

“Maybe you’re all too arrogant to be trusted.”

Barnes didn’t even look away from the movie as he said it. Everybody stood stock still. It was like the tide receded at his words, the dead giveaway to an incoming tsunami.

Rogers was the sounding alarm. “What?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Barton asked, too taken aback to look insulted. Romanoff wore the exact same face he did. It was almost comical.

Barnes took his time replying. He was still ‘fixated’ on the movie.

“There ain’t no ‘welcome home’ ruse. Hell, there wasn’t even a ‘welcome home’, for starters, so I don’t know what you’re even on about,” he said, with an honest to God laugh. “And I really don’t know why you expected one.”

“We signed the Accords,” Rogers stated, a perceived cold fact. “We agreed to his terms—”

“No, he agreed to yours, punk.”

“Am I actually listening to this?” Lang asked, effectively voicing Tony’s thoughts.

“Buck, you of all people should know that we can’t trust the—”

“You ain’t above the law, Steve.” Barnes finally tore his eyes from the screen to stare at his best friend’s. His voice was ice. “You ain’t above 192 countries. If you can’t accept limitations, you’re no better than the bad guys.”

Tony’s sharp gasp synched with Team Cap’s.

“You’re defending Stark?” Barton asked, sounding as skeptical as Tony felt. “You, of all people?”

That’s it, no more tea from Strange. He was absolutely not witnessing this.

“Buck.”

“Steve,” Barnes mocked.

Rogers blinked, before his face contorted into something like anger. Tony wasn’t sure.

“Bucky, he tried to kill you!”

“I killed his parents!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Barton jumped off the couch. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, what?”

The rest of the team, including Maximoff but not Romanoff, reacted like this was big news.

“That wasn’t—!”

“Yes, it was. No, shut the fuck up, Steven Grant Rogers,” Barnes growled, and Tony couldn’t for the life of him believe his eyes and ears. “I killed his parents. I fuckin’ killed his parents, that was me, brainwashed or not. Their death is on my hands and I take full blame and responsibility for what I did.”

“Hold up a sec—” Wilson started, but Barnes wasn’t done.

“But you, Steve, didn’t take no fucking blame or responsibility. You knew it had been me, and you didn’t tell him. You knew it hadn’t been an accident from the start, and you didn’t tell him. Didn’t you say you were friends?”

“Yes, but—”

“Then what the hell, Steve—”

“How was I supposed to tell him?” Rogers finally snapped. “How could I say it? How do you say that to someone? Buck, you’re my friend—”

“So was he, damn it!”

Tony could feel his eyes growing progressively wider.

“You’re my friend, I was protecting you!” There was actual betrayal in Rogers’ face. “If I told him, he would have gone after you!”

“Would he?” Barnes gestured around vaguely. “I’m standin’ right here, in his house, per his invite, and not once has he tried to pick up where we left off.”

“Not yet,” Lang corrected. “He doesn’t because he’s smart enough not to mess with you, seeing as that would mean messing with us.”

And then Barnes’ face, ever so calculatingly blank, stretched in the most scornful smirk Tony had ever seen.

“Oh, he’s smart alright. But that ain’t why. Lord knows he could kick your asses on his own if he needed to. He certainly kicked mine and Steve’s.”

“Okay, what?” Wilson—it had been Wilson—repeated.

“When did this happen?” Maximoff asked, right back to Stark-Hate mode.

Both Rogers and Barnes fell into silence, one out of guilt and one out of sheer anger.

“You didn’t tell them about Siberia.” It wasn’t a question.

“Siberia?”

“Siberia?”

“What happened in Siberia?”

Tony could never be sure watching through video feed as he was, despite the fine quality of his installed surveillance, but the expression Barnes now had struck too close to the one he’d associated with the Winter Soldier.

Rogers did make an effort to explain, surprisingly. “Tony came to us after Leipzig. As a friend. He… he found out the truth. Lashed out, attacked Bucky. I stepped in and it… it just went downhill from there.”

“What do you mean, ‘downhill’?” It was Romanoff who asked, at a loss to make a difference.

Rogers took too long to come up with his response. Barnes beat him to it.

“He tried to kill him.” Perceived cold fact. “He crushed his arc reactor, then left him to die in the cold.”

He was met with silence, underlaid with the movie in the background. Barnes got up.

“I already watched Pulp Fiction last week,” he informed, then promptly left.

In his lab, Tony watched him go. The moment Barnes was out of frame, he turned off all monitors. Left himself in complete darkness.

What. The actual. Fuck.

[oathkeeper-of-tarth]

From Down This Low

The fateful first meeting of Bismuth and Rose Quartz, or: Bismuth can’t help but care far too much. From Working Title: eeEEeeeeEE BISMUTH, same source as Quite Contrary and other snippets.

(Back when I wrote the first draft of this, ages ago, it was pretty straightforward. Now it’s suddenly got a dozen implications per anything Rose says, a ton of bittersweetness, and altogether is just sad where I never originally intended it to be, but here we are and that’s just how it is in this post-ASPR world.)

~2400 words. Briefly featuring a ruby (who isn’t our Ruby) and a pearl (who isn’t our Pearl), and a warning for Homeworld is Horrible brand content and minor character death.

---

From Down This Low

For centuries to come, Bismuth would remember with perfect clarity the well-respected Benitoite architect coming to inspect a relatively fresh arena building site on the promising new colony, her ruby guard escort and pearl by her side. It was hard to forget, too, all the warnings and instructions the overseers had made sure every single bismuth on-site was well aware of, had drummed into them under pain of a variety of terrible fates.

Then, almost as soon as the inspection started, the slip-up and the bit of earth that was supposed to have been flattened long ago, the shouts of one of the ruby guards and the bismuth next to her desperately trying, and failing, to regain control of a long girder.

And it would be downright impossible for her to forget the growing horror of the pearl staggering and slipping backwards into the mouth of one of the recently dug foundation pits, trying desperately to keep herself together, her form glitching and increasingly out of her control, hands clutching at the cracked gem on her throat like it could possibly help stop the webbing, flaking damage.

For a moment Bismuth felt something like hope - the Benitoite actually looked upset, even concerned. But that got snuffed out quickly enough, as soon as she spoke, in that drawl that made Bismuth shiver and feel like the refraction of her entire form was slightly off.

“Oh dear, no... I'll never get a replacement in time for the hosting next cycle…”  

The callous disregard was, perhaps, the worst part of it all. It was just a pearl, yes, but Bismuth wanted to scream, it’s your pearl. Surely you owe her something, some small speck of feeling? She has to be more than an inconvenience to you, in the end.

Benitoite then proceeded to make a big fuss about destruction of property and compensation. The bismuth ended up harvested and the inattentive ruby guard shattered on the spot with the most sickening of sounds. The pearl…

Well, the pearl was left at the bottom of the pit, right where she'd fallen, twitching and glitching out and grasping at her throat as the crack in her gem deepened, and as it became clear that nobody cared about her save as an argument anymore.

Once the visitors finally left, and work was done for that rotation, Bismuth sneaked back on site and made her way down into the pit, and quietly held the pearl’s more and more immaterial hand. She did her best to try avoid looking too long at the tiny leftover ruby-red shards scattered about them, but they glistened, and they played in front of her when she closed her eyes, and they deserved better.

She stayed with the pearl as long as she could, took her with herself when the pearl couldn't hold on anymore and retreated into her crumbling gem, then hid her away in a nook in a half-built wall, next to a tidy pile of red shards - as many as she’d managed to find. The pearl never came back out.

(Rose could have helped her, was a thought that would resonate, centuries later. But Rose had burst onto this particular stage just a little too late, and her healing tears even later.

It built and built and built into the realisation that she couldn't sit around and wait for Rose to save everyone.)

-

Bismuth had no patience for meddling guards, not after the day she’d had. So when a rose quartz with the curliest cloud of bright pink hair Bismuth had ever seen trotted over to the edge of the construction site and very conspicuously tried to catch her eye, she kept her back turned.

“There are no delays. The arena will be ready for you all exactly as ordered,” she grumbled, barely managing to bite back just in time for you to wreck it and reduce good, hard, costly work to piles of rubble. Typical. “Did you need something else?”

“I just wanted… to ask you a few things.”

Bismuth turned, despite herself. The rose quartz looked sheepish and awkward, toying with the pink diamond emblazoned on the front of her uniform, with an air of having just sprung out of the ground about her. Everything about the situation seemed to slot into a familiar place, and Bismuth sighed.

“Okay, listen, I know I’ve helped some of you out in the past, but I can’t go around secretly fixing every barracks wall before your regiment gets in trouble with the agate, not with the schedule they have us on here.” Bismuth rolled her eyes, “Pink Diamond needs her giant statues, yesterday! And besides, I remember telling your pals to keep it on the down low when I last gave you a hand. Who told you to come get me?”

The quartz hastily waved her concerns away. “Oh, no, you misunderstood. I really do just want to talk. Nobody sent me here.”

“Talk.”

“Yes! Talk. Maybe…” the quartz shot a vaguely nervous look around them, pointedly catching on the few stragglers still on-site, “in private.”

Bismuth narrowed her eyes. “You’re a strange one. But fine. I know a place we can go.”

It took her a few more minutes to finish up the chiseling on her current block, then she shapeshifted her hands back, dusted them off, and motioned for the quartz to follow.

She took them to a small stretch of beach at a nearby lake that was due to be drained soon - probably as soon as the terraforming unit could spare a lapis for an hour or two. But for now, it was a pleasantly quiet place to sit and think - or brood, which she’d been doing quite a bit of lately.

Bismuth sat down on a beached log, and the quartz followed suit. She was almost comically entranced with the play of sunlight on the lake’s surface, it seemed a shame to interrupt. But Bismuth doubted either of them could afford to hang around indefinitely.

“So,” she prompted, toying with a bit of driftwood she found at her feet. “Can’t say I’ve really talked to a rose quartz before. Don’t you lot usually get nicer assignments? We just get amethysts who’ve gotten on their commander’s bad side keeping us in line here, officially.”

The quartz ignored her words completely, choosing instead to lean over. “What’s that you’re drawing?”

“Hm? Oh,” Bismuth noticed she’d started doodling in the dirt. “A habit. Nothing much. Sometimes when I come here I just like to… get some ideas out, visualise. That sort of thing. Does no harm, and gets washed away eventually.”

The quartz was staring at her so wide-eyed and so fascinated, Bismuth couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “Okay, look, you saw the scaffolding back there, right? For the pillars?” A nod. “Well, I was just thinking, and honestly when I draw it out it really seems to hold up - instead of the stuff Benitoite has us doing with them, we should do something like this.”

She’d already sketched out the supports, and added some detail to indicate where she’d have the load distributed and the arches go, just to make it clearer for the uninitiated - or, well, her entire audience.

The look the rose quartz gave her turned oddly pointed. “So you don’t think the pillars should be handled the way they are? Surely… surely Her Diamond’s Architect Benitoite is right?”

Bismuth huffed. “No, of course not. They’ll be gone in a couple thousand rotations, worn down to tiny floating bits. Besides, they’re ugly. Now this,” she pointed out the swirling lines in her hasty mud sketch, “this would be much better, much more durable, and it would look spectacular. And even Pink Diamond might be pleased with something, finally, instead of having us do everything over and over again. Benitoite is as clueless as a chunk of shale.” Then she thought back to the architect’s haughty drawl, and her pearl, and the nook in the wall, and she found her mood rapidly darkening. “But hey, like anyone cares what I think. Might as well be the dirt under their feet. And that’s exactly where I’ll end up anyway.”

The quartz looked sadly at where Bismuth had thrown down her stick and smudged away most of the drawing in one frustrated swipe of her foot.

“You don’t seem to have much love for your superiors, or... Pink Diamond,” she began, slightly hesitantly.

“Love?” Bismuth snorted. “Love your Diamond is something meant for other Gems. All I’m supposed to do is get my work done as quickly as possible and get out of the way even quicker, so it can be properly enjoyed by those it’s actually meant for.” She turned to the quartz. “Listen, er-”

“Rose,” she happily supplied. No facet or cut or any sort of designation. Bismuth raised an eyebrow, but decided to shrug and roll with it.

“Right. Rose. You look like a fresh face, so here’s a friendly hint: the arenas are for you to wreck, but best keep out of the fancy places, yeah? They don’t want you there any more then they want me. If some upper crust tries to make you believe that she does, stay away from her. It’s not worth getting entangled in any of that, and it can get real dangerous for you real fast.”

Rose frowned, but nodded. Bismuth wasn’t sure she was coming across properly, but she’d done her best with the warning. She seemed to have gotten her to think, at least - Rose certainly looked like she was mulling over something serious.

“I actually… I wanted to ask you something,” she spoke up after a stretch of slightly strained silence.

“Yeah? Your big secret that we needed to talk in private for?” Bismuth had no idea what it could possibly be, but she also couldn’t see any harm in it. And hey, if she could help a newbie quartz with something that was bothering her, why would she not?

Rose didn’t respond immediately, but spent a while looking out at the lake again. A breeze started up, and made her rich, pink curls dance around her shoulders - she was certainly a sight to behold, as impressive as quartzes generally went. Then she turned back to look Bismuth in the eye, gaze heavy with something unrecognisable. “What would you want to build?”

“What?” Bismuth laughed, far too loud. “Listen, princess, I just hammer away, I don’t make the calls-”

“But if you could!” Rose sounded breathless, and had drawn closer, wide-eyed and expectant and oddly excited, then took one of Bismuth’s hands between her own. “Imagine if there was a place- if you could get the chance to figure it out for yourself. If you could pick anything at all to build, what would it be?”

Anything at all.

It felt like a thousand ideas and wild thoughts were flitting through Bismuth’s mind, yet not a single one wanted to stay and become solid. But rubies and pearls featured prominently, and supports and safety nets and sanctuaries and things she couldn’t even begin to put into words, and she knew yesterday was still messing her up but it was just so hard to put any of it out of her mind for long-

Bismuth pulled away and forced out another nervous laugh. “What do you want with me, you weird hunk of quartz? What’s gotten into you?”

Rose became far more serious - solemn, even, and her dark eyes seemed to bore into Bismuth’s very core. “I saw you yesterday. With the pearl.”

Bismuth tried to hide her flinch behind a grin she knew had to be terribly unconvincing, and found herself scrambling to come up with a believable excuse. “Well, you know how it is… no way am I ever getting one for myself, so why not make use of a chance to play a little pretend...”

Rose shook her head, the endless curls following the movement almost entrancingly. “You don’t have to put up that front with me.”

“Front? Hah, what? Come on-”

“I saw you,” Rose repeated simply, “and I saw that you cared.”

Bismuth didn’t have an answer to that, so Rose continued.

“You were so gentle. You sat there and let her cling to your hand right until the end, when there was nothing but risk in it for you. Not many Gems I know would do something like that.”

Her companion didn’t seem quite so innocuous anymore, and that air of newness and innocence and curiosity seemed to have an altogether different feel to it now, and an odd undercurrent. “You’re right,” Bismuth admitted, with an anger that somehow felt very old. “That’s how they have such a tight hold on all of us. We help them keep us down and use us, because we do it to each other.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “They? Sounds like dangerous talk.”

Bismuth shrugged. “Maybe it is. Maybe it should be, because we could be dangerous. Maybe I’m tired of so many Gems like me being… underestimated. Or worse.”

Bismuths were easy enough to make, she knew. They were built to be sturdy and durable, capable of withstanding heavy loads and gruelling work and punishing conditions of colonies-to-be. The investment just made sense, but once they wore down or fell victim to some inevitable workplace accident, that was that. It was a loss, yes, but an entirely bearable and replaceable one, and what were a few bismuths compared to a glorious newly erected spire, or a magnificent temple to honour the Diamonds? What was a handful of rubies if the fight was won, in the end, or a string of pearls gone out of style?

The way Rose was looking at her, though. The things she was asking. That was new. “Who are you?” Bismuth finally asked.

Rose lowered her voice conspiratorially, even though a quick glance around confirmed they were still alone. “I’m someone who’s had some dangerous thoughts, too. And I’m looking for Gems who want to help.”

Want.

“Well,” Bismuth said, feeling the beginnings of something oddly like promise, or that bit of hope she’d felt - or feared - snuffed out yesterday, “what did you have in mind?”

The smile on Rose’s face would have been terrifying, had it been aimed at her. As it was, she felt almost compelled to match it.

“Sabotage.”

[anogete]

Hi! First things first, love your stories. Not just for the smut, but how beautifully you craft the storyline and write the characters to be so realistic. To be on that level of storytelling is a privilege to read and gives me inspiration to write and be that good one day. Sorry for the fan girling but I do have a serious question...how do you plan out your fics? Chapter by chapter or just dot points or write and see what the hell you come up with?

Thank you, @famousluminarypeanut ! 

So, how do I plan out fics?  Hmmm...  Well, most of my projects start out the same way: I have an idea of the overarching plot of the fic (very general) or maybe I just have this scene in my head that I have to get out.  With Seventy-One, I had that scene when they first meet in the lounge in my head--very early morning, dark outside, quiet building, Bucky slips in and they have coffee together in silence.  With Out of the Woods I had the idea that I wanted to have Bucky capture Darcy right after the events of WS and go on some grand theft auto escape from HYDRA and the authorities.  Either way, I usually start writing without a plan other than the initial idea.  I open up a blank document and get to typing.  I tend to break my chapters every 10-20 pages because that is what I like as a reader.  I find I write to cater to myself as far as length and content goes, so hopefully, that works for my readers as well.  Anyway, I start writing and just break up the chapters by the page numbers as natural breaks happen in the text.

I’m pretty driven by scenes that I see in my head.  As I’m writing, I’m thinking ahead to what would/could happen next.  I think about it throughout the day, so I’ll jot it down in a notes app on my phone or (if I can’t type because I’m in the car) I’ll dictate ideas for scenes or even strings of dialogue on a voice memo app so I don’t forget these little nuggets when I sit down to write.  Sometimes those notes make it into my writing and other times they don’t or they get heavily modified.

It always seems to happen that around chapter 7 or 8, the bigger story starts to gel in my head.  This is probably because my writing tends to focus on building a relationship.  I like to start out without a prior meaningful relationship.  By this, I mean that I like the characters I’m focusing on to meet at the beginning of the fic or to not know each other very well until the beginning of the fic.  I like to build the beginnings of the relationship myself instead of assuming an established friendship.  Again, this is another personal preference of mine as a reader that carries over to my writing since I write to please myself.  Anyway, it takes a few chapters to establish the relationship and build it up to the point where I have more freedom to throw in the drama.  That’s probably the biggest reason why it takes time for the larger storyline to gel in my head.  So, between chapters 6-9, I’ll start plotting out the rest because things are coming together and I know where I want to go (even if I usually don’t know the final scene or exactly how it will end).  I keep a little bullet list at the bottom of the file I’m working in.  I’ll do a very basic outline--maybe three or four bullet points (usually one or two sentences per point) per chapter of what I want to accomplish.  That doesn’t always work out and bullet points get push up or pushed back to other chapters.  Sometimes they even get rearranged. I let it happen and don’t try to force anything.

It’s around this time that I start getting more comfortable with the fic and am able to post to followers about when to expect the fic to be posted.  I don’t post any of my fics until the first draft is completed, but by the time I’m halfway in, I have a pretty good idea of how much longer I need to get the story told and how many days that will take me with my schedule.  I’ll use those bullet points to write the final chapters of the fic (I normally don’t exceed 20 chapters).  I try to send the first half to my betas while I’m working on the second half.  Getting their feedback at that point allows me to redirect things if something isn’t working.  It also prevents them from having a long-ass fic to beta in like two days.

I’ll write even if I only have twenty minutes.  I’ll write at home at my coffee table or in my book nook.  I’ll write in the middle of a busy Starbucks.  I’ll write in the library on my lunch break.  I’ll write anywhere I can.  I even write on my cell phone at night while I’m in bed.  Google Docs is my friend.  To block out interruptions, I’ll put on music that has the same tone I want to portray in the fic/chapter or I’ll put on ASMR videos on YouTube.  These are just videos of people making repetitive noises (crinkling paper, scratching a table, tapping on a candle, etc), and I find them soothing and great ambient background noise that won’t distract me from writing.  When I start a writing session, I’ll go back 1 to 3 pages and read what I wrote before I stopped.  Then I’ll pick up from that point and go until I feel like I need to stop or until I run out of time.  I have a 9 to 5 job, so I spend most of my weekends writing (I can write two chapters a day or about 10,000 words if I’m inspired and free of responsibilities).  My company is generous with vacation days, so sometimes I take days off work just to write.

I usually read my first draft chapters once or twice before sending them to my betas.  When I get the chapters back, I’ll fix the small things my betas noted immediately.  Then I’ll read the chapters again as I fix the larger things they noted.  At this point, all the chapters are written and most of them are beta’d and I’m ready to start posting them on AO3.  I’ll read each chapter the day before I intend to post it and then I’ll read it one final time right before I the post button.

This is way more info than you asked for.  Sorry about that.  Either way, I hoped this helps.  I think every writer is different.  It took me years to figure out my rhythm and what works best for me.  It might not work for you, but hopefully it gives you some ideas on things to try.  Getting better at writing takes practice and practice and practice.  I’m still learning.  I’m still trying to be better and try new things.  Regardless of all that, though, I think writing fanfic is about having fun and doing what you want to do.  So, that’s my advice.  Have fun.  Write what you love.

And now I’ll shut the eff up.

[coyoteweird]

How Hopper Adopts Mike Wheeler: Part 5

Wow I was going through my drafts and realized I forgot to post this. Well here it is.

Hey guys! This is part 5/? of The “How Hopper Adopts Mike Wheeler” Series written with my son @lgbtchee

Warnings: mentions/implied eating disorder, that’s it bc it’s all fluff 

Hope you enjoy!

Hopper didn’t cook. It was just a fact. He lived off of greasy takeout and microwave meals. He never thought that he’d be in Joyce Byers’ kitchen making a birthday cake and planning a birthday party.

It was Mike’s sixteenth birthday and that night they were having a party. Hopper wanted to make it good. He knew that Mike was feeling the absence of his parents worse than ever. Nancy had taken Mike out to celebrate together, and to distract him. The entire party was planning a surprise party for Mike. The girls were out getting decorations for the party. The boys were out getting tapes from the local video rental store for the sleepover that night. Steve was getting food for the party. Jonathan was picking up a few last minute items they needed. All Joyce and Hopper had to do was make a birthday cake.

If only Hopper knew how to make a birthday cake. At this point, Hopper had no idea what he was doing. It was taking way too long to make a simple cake and Hopper was worried they wouldn’t have it done in time.

“How much longer do we have to get it done?” Hopper asked, looking at the clock while joyce put the cake in the oven.

“We have enough time, Hop. Don’t worry” Joyce said.

“But I want this to be just right for him, after all the shit that’s happened. He deserves this at least.” Hopper said. “He’s practically my kid now, I want to do this right.” Hopper pauses.

“What if it’s not good enough for him?” Hopper said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Hop, please, anything you do for that boy will be amazing to him. He’ll love it either way. He looks up to you.” Joyce said. “Plus, even if the cake doesn’t come out right I doubt he’ll mind very much, kind of worrying though...” Joyce said.

“What do you mean?” Hopper asked “Is something going on?’

“Well… I did notice that he doesn’t really eat a lot, sometimes not at all.”

“What?” Hopper asks, clearly out of the loop.

“Oh well, I could be wrong. I just noticed when he eats dinner at the house, he doesn’t really eat much or makes an excuse not to.” Joyce answers.

“El and Mike usually eat dinner before I get home from work. She hasn’t said anything to me…” Hopper says, brows furrowed.

“Again, I could be wrong, it’s just some things I’ve noticed. It could just be my cooking.” Joyce attempts to lighten the mood.

Hopper just sighs, dragging his hand down his face.

“I worry so much about that kid that I feel like I’m going to explode.” Hopper says, mixing the batter.

“I get it, when I’m away from Will, all I do is worry about him.” Joyce says.

“I don’t know what I’m doing with him. I feel like every step I take is a wrong one. He’s so different from El in every way. They have completely different issues and lives and personalities. I’m still figuring El out, now trying to figure him out is like trying to speak french and german with no teacher.” Hopper says with a huff.

“Hop, you’re doing your best. You’re doing way better than Ted and Karen have.  He has a lot of issues, it’s gonna take more than a day to heal. Give him time.” Joyce says, grabbing his upper arm.

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the kitchen shifted. The air was thicker, almost electrified. Neither Hopper nor Joyce realized the way they were slowly leaning into each other. Like magnets, the two were drawn together. Both were mesmerized by the other. Just before the two became one-

“Mom, we’re back! We got a bunch of Mike’s favorite movies!” Will says, slamming the door. Hopper and Joyce jump apart.

“Okay hun! Go set everything up in your room, we’re almost done in here” Joyce says, her cheeks a light pink.

“Alright?” Will asks, a little confused but he walks back to his room, Lucas and Dustin following.

There was a slight tension in the room after that.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do that when we’re expecting the kids back soon.” Hopper said, laughing a little.

Joyce joined in. “Well you do have a point on that one. Now let’s get the cake done before Nancy gets back here with Mike.”

Soon after, they had everything set up. The entire house was decorated, the cake was done and everyone was in place. Now they just had to wait for Nancy and Mike to get there.

They heard the two of them walking towards the door right then.

“Are you sure anyone’s here? All the lights are out...” Mike asked Nancy. All he honestly wanted to do was go to sleep and forget the day entirely.

“Yes I’m sure Mike, don’t worry about it.” She said, smiling and opening the door.

“I just dont-” Mike was cut off by walking in the house and the lights flickering on.

Everyone shouts, “Surprise!”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t almost cry because, holy shit, he was so happy that they’d done all this for him. He looked around, seeing his friends and people he cares about, there to celebrate him. It made his heart swell.

“Oh, wow! Just, wow!” Mike says, completely speechless.

“Happy birthday, Mike!” The party yells, rushing over to Mike.

Lucas wraps an arm around Mike’s shoulder. Dustin wrapped his arms around his waist, his face pressed against Mike’s stomach.

“Dude, happy sixteenth!” Max exclaims.

“Happy Sweet Sixteen! We didn’t forget, like the movie!” El yells, the biggest smile on her face.

“Happy birthday, little dude!” Steve says, ruffling Mike’s hair.

“C’mon, guys, the pizza will get cold!” Joyce says, laughter in his voice.

Mike was still stuck as everyone went to the kitchen, just looking around at all the decorations.

Will came over to him and grabbed his hand. “C’mon, Mikey,” He said, smiling. “Let’s go eat okay?”

Mike seemed to snap out of it then, nodding. The biggest smile on his face that he’s had in forever. “Yeah, okay” he said, following Will into the kitchen.

They were all sitting around the kitchen eating pizza and talking. God Mike had never felt so fucking grateful in his life. Mike sat up on one of the counters, will right up there beside him as he ate his slice of pizza, without Will even having to convince him to try.

“Thank you guys for all of this, so so much.” Mike said, after everyone had finished eating.

“Don’t worry about it, you deserve it Mike.” Jonathan said. “After everything that’s happened recently, you do.”

Mike just smiled, and Will was just glad that he was happy in the moment. He’d missed Mike’s smile so much.

“C’mon now, time for cake.” Hopper said, lighting the candles.

Mike was practically beaming as everyone sang happy birthday, and when he blew out the candles, he wished for everything to stay just like this. For nothing to ever go wrong or change.

“What’d you wish for?” El asks, Max throws her arm around her shoulders.

“He can’t tell you or it won’t come true! That’s why you don’t say you’re wish out loud when you make it!”

El smiles, a small blush on her cheeks. Max has a large grin on her own face. Mike smiles at the interaction.

“I hope the cake’s okay. I asked El and Will what you’d like, and they said that this was your favorite.” Hopper says, cutting into the buttercream frosting.

Mike’s smile only widens. Will and El had gotten it right. Hopper cut a large piece of pink strawberry cake with buttercream frosting.

“Thanks! It’s my favorite!” Mike says, taking a huge bite. “It’s amazing! Thanks so much!” Mike says, mouth full of frosting.

Will stared at Mike warmly, a large smile on his face. Mike shoveled cake into his mouth, enjoying the cake. Mike catches Will staring and pauses, fork hovering above his mouth.

“What is it? Is there something on my face?” Mike asks, confused.

Will doesn’t answer, instead leaning over and wiping a glob of frosting off of Mike’s face. The pad of Will’s thumb dragging across Mike’s lower lip. Mike blushes a deep pink.

“There.” Will smiled softly, leaning forward pecking his lips gently, making Mike’s cheeks just go pinker.

The party watched the scene play out, Dustin and Lucas always knew that the two of them would end up a thing, they were always so obvious. Everyone else had moved into the living room.

“Hey, do you wanna go watch a movie with everyone before the sleepover tonight?” Will asked suddenly, Mike nodded.

“We’re having a sleepover too?” Mike asked.

“Well of course we are. Now c’mon, you get to choose” Will said, grabbing his hand, pulling him into the living room.

Dustin, Lucas, El and Max followed behind them, El and Max holding hands, sitting right next to each other on the floor in front of the tv.

If Will was being honest, he was trying to keep mike distracted. The longer he was distracted, the less time he had to think about things that Will knew would just make him upset.

They all sat around the tv, watching one of Mike’s absolute favorite movies, The Shining.

Mike always got so into horror movies when watching them. He loved to theorize who the killer was or who was next to die, even analyze the meaning behind the stories. Most people would find his excited chatter throughout the movies annoying, but Will thought it was endearing. Mike had a sort of obsession with stories. He loved planning their D&D campaigns, taking time to perfect the details and plot lines. Will also knew that Mike wrote his own stories, but he was much more hesitant to share those. Will had yet to read one.

“What’s this one about again?” El asks, still confused.

“Okay, it’s about this family, right? They go up to this hotel in the mountains. The dad’s a writer so they move there so he can focus on it more and still make enough money to take care of the family. And the hotel’s like, haunted somehow. Well, the little boy, Danny can like, see things? Not ghosts per say but he has visions. He’s a ‘shiner’, That’s what they call it in the book, and while they’re there Danny starts seeing worse and worse stuff. Jack like, investigates the hotel and finds out how messed up it is and he goes nuts and tries to kill his family.” Mike says, not taking a full breath the whole time.

“Jesus, this is based off that Stephen King book, right?” Steve asked.

“Yeah! There’s a lot more details in the book though. I don’t think they mention the shiners in the movie though.” Mike responds.

By the time the movie was over it was starting to get late. Dustin was passed out on Lucas’ shoulder, Lucas leaning his own head on Dustin’s. El and Max wear also asleep, El with her head in Max’s lap. Jonathan and Nancy had gone to bed halfway through, Steve going home soon after. Hopper had gone home just before the movie started. Will and Mike were the only ones awake.

Will and Mike had been sitting with their backs against the couch. As the movie progressed, Mike and Will were drawn closer together, ending with Will’s arms thrown over Mike’s shoulders, Mike’s arms wrapped around Will’s waist, face pressed to his chest. Neither boy was asleep, both too happy to sleep just yet.

“Mike, can I give you my gift?” Will whispers.

“You didn’t have to get me anything. This was more than enough.” Mike responds, looking at Will in the eyes.

“Come?” Will asks, and Mike nods.

Will stands and holds his hand out to Mike. They walk down to Will’s bedroom hand in hand. Will shuts the door behind Mike, not moving further into the room. Mike pauses, leaning against the shut door. Will is silent, staring at Mike with a warm gaze.

“What is it?” Mike asks.

“This isn’t your gift, but can I kiss you?” Will asks, making Mike blush and nod.

Will cups Mike’s cheek, thumb brushing across Mike’s cheekbone, before sliding down to Mike’s neck, cupping the back of his head. Will leans in, lips connecting with Mike’s. The kiss is slow, but passionate. Mike’s arms were wrapped around Will’s back. Mike thinks he can feel all of Will’s love in that one kiss. After a few minutes, Will pulls away from the kiss with a smile. In the back of Mike’s mind, he notes that’s the longest kiss the pair has shared.

“Now for your real gift.” Will says, pulling away after kissing Mike’s cheek.

Mike was still a little breathless from the kiss, his cheeks still flushed light pink. “Really, Will. You didn’t need to get me anything.” He said.

“I wanted to, after everything that’s happened you deserve it.” Will said, holding Mike’s hands, giving him a soft kiss yet again before going over to his closet.

Mike thought that he could live on just that for his whole life.

Will pulled out a small, wrapped box from his closet, bringing it over to where Mike stood. He handed him the box. “Here, open it.” Will said softly, giving mike the box.

“Will you really didn’t need to” mike said.

“Mike, hush and open it, please?” Will responded.

“Okay, okay fine.” Mike said, sitting down on the floor, will sitting right in front of him. Will watched as Mike unwrapped the box, lifting the flaps that kept the contents hidden.

Inside the box was a small stuffed bear, a walkman, and a tape that had ‘For a Rainy Day’ written on it. Mike was quiet. For a second, Will thought that he didn’t like it.

“If you don’t like it, I can return it and you can get something different.” Will says, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Suddenly, Mike surges forward and wraps his arms around Will’s neck. Will was stunned for a moment, but quickly returns the hug, wrapping his arms around Mike’s waist.

“It’s perfect, Will. I love it!” Mike says, pecking Will.

Will smiles brightly, tightening his arms around Mike’s waist.

“I’m really glad you like it. I was nervous you wouldn’t.” Will says, pulling back a bit to look at Mike’s face.

“Will, it’s amazing. My parents have my old one so this is absolutely perfect! It’s actually too much, you didn’t have to spend all this on me. The bear would have been more than enough. I really love it.” Mike says, thumb caressing the back of Will’s neck.

Will shakes his head. “No, it’s more than okay,” He says, smiling. “Like I said, you deserve it. Okay?” He said, kissing Mike’s nose.

Mike started to argue, but stopped himself. He was sure that Will wouldn’t let him win this one

“Okay, okay, fine.” Mike says “I’ll agree with you on this.” He added, leaning his forehead against wills

“Wanna watch another movie and go to sleep?” Will asked, standing up and pulling Mike with him.

Mike nodded “Can we watch Halloween?” he asked softly, following will back into the living room, carrying the small stuffed bear with him.

Will nodded. “How about that, then 16 Candles?” He asked.

“You only want to watch 16 candles because I’m finally 16 now.” Mike pouted.

“Oh, come one. It’s one of my favorites! It’s romantic.” Will teases, making Mike blush.

“You’re such a sap, Will.” Mike teases back.

“Oh, so you’re telling me I have to reenact the birthday cake scene all by myself?” Will smirks.

“You’re too cheesy to handle.” Mike swats at Will’s arm, but melts against his chest when Will throws his arm over his shoulders.

After the third movie, the pair was asleep, loosely entangled in each other’s arms.

The next morning Mike woke up to everyone talking.

“Guys, shh! You’ll wake them up!”

“They’re probably already are awake!”

“I am! Be quiet so you don’t wake Mike up!”

Mike groaned softly, burying his face in Wills shoulder “What time is it?” He mumbled.

“Nine in the morning.” Lucas laughed. 

“Why the hell are any of you awake” Mike complained, sitting up.

“Because, we have more planned for today! We’re going to have an all weekend thing for you, Mike. So get up!” Max said, smiling.

“You guys didn’t have to! Yesterday was more than enough!” Mike exclaimed, but a bright smile on his face.

“This is ‘The Weekend of Wheeler’, okay? One day just isn’t enough.” Dustin says, pinching Mike’s cheeks.

“Up and at, ‘em, Nerd. We got things to do and places to be. So start getting ready!” Max exclaims.

“Where are we going?” Mike asks, grabbing his bag.

“It’s a surprise! Get ready and you’ll see.” El says, clasping her hands together in excitement.

Mike rushes to get ready, showering and getting changed in record time. He wore an oversized sweater with a muted pattern that El bought him that Max said would “suit his coloring”, whatever that meant. When he finished getting ready and entered the living room, everyone else was ready and eating the breakfast Joyce and Hopper were making, scrambled eggs, toast, and some bacon. Mike smiled.

Mike took the seat next to Will. “Why can’t you guys just tell me where we’re going?” He whined, taking a few bites of the eggs.

“Because it’s a surprise.” Will said. “You have you wait until we get there” Will whined back.

Mike pouted, pulling his sleeves up a little so they don’t get messy. “That’s not fair though.” He says as he finished what was on his plate. Will squeezed his hand slightly.

“Well you have to deal with it.” El says, smiling “If you wait it’ll be a better surprise.”

“Fine,” Mike pouted. “Can we go now?” He asked once everyone had finished eating.

Just then, a horn sounded from outside, causing Mike to furrow his brows but the others to jump up.

“Fine, fine! Let’s roll out!” Dustin yells, grabbing his bag.

“Who is that?” Mike asked, but he was just pulled by the hand by Will.

“We already told you, it’s a surprise!” Will says.

Outside, Steve leans against the police cruiser. Hopper follows the kids outside, a scowl on his face.

“Be careful with her, okay.” Hopper barks, Joyce pats his shoulder.

“Be careful with the kids, okay. You know to call of anything happens, alright. And have fun!” Joyce says, bringing her hands to her mouth in anxiousness.

“We’re taking the cruiser?” Mike asks Hopper.

“Yeah, you got a long drive ahead of you and I don’t want you all crammed and on each other’s laps. That way you all fit.” Hopper says, ruffling Mike’s hair.

“A long drive? Where are we going?” Mike asks again.

“It’s a surprisee!” Will says again, drawing out the E and dragging Mike to sit next to him in the car.  

“Why can’t you guys just tell me.” Mike pouts. “You could be dragging me to my death.” He says, leaning his head on wills shoulder.

“We aren’t dragging you to your death, oh my gosh.” Will says, laughing a little.

“Don’t worry too much, Mike.” Nancy said from the passenger seat. “We wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know, I just wanna know.” Mike said, yawning a little.

“Well you gotta wait a few hours, we’re going all the way to Indianapolis.” Steve laughed.

“That’s so far.” Mike says, “What’s in Indianapolis?”

“Nope! Surprise.” El says. “Now, shhh.”

Mike ended up sleeping a majority of the car ride, still tired from staying up later the night before with Will. The others were happy about that, knowing the surprise would be even greater when he woke up. The ride was a little over two hours, Mike spent the entire time curled up by Will’s side, drooling slightly into the collar of Will’s flannel. The others were already thinking of all the ways they could tease Mike, but Will simply smiled and leaned his head on top of Mike’s. Mike stayed asleep until Steve finally parked.

“Mike,” Nancy dragged out. “Mike, we’re here.” Nancy leaned closer to Mike.

“Hm?” Mike brought a balled fist up to his eye to try and rub the sleep out. “Already?” He yawned.

“Yeah, only took like three hours. Enough time for you to create a small ocean of drool on Will’s shirt, doofus.” Max’s chin rested in El’s shoulder, shaking for trying to hold in her laughter.

Mike’s cheeks turned bright pink. “I don’t drool.” Mike swiped at the corners of his mouth to try and hide any dried spit before the others spotted. “Where are we? A parking lot?” Mike’s brows furrowed.

Lucas snorts. “Yeah! We drove all the way to Indianapolis to hang out in this parking lot. Happy birthday!” He smirked, leaning against the seat in front of him on his bent elbow.

Nancy smiles at the interaction. “You’ve been asking to come here since you were like, eight. So, I thought now was as good a time as ever.” Mike’s eyes lit up and he sat up straight immediately.

“No freaking way! You guys didn’t!” Mike couldn’t keep the ear to ear grin off his face.

“We freaking did!” Dustin’s hands shot out, narrowly missing Steve’s face.

“Then, what are we doing waiting in the car? Let’s go!” Mike couldn’t wait for the others to get out, so he started crawling across Will’s lap and opening the door. “Guys, come on!” Mike tumbled out of the car and onto the asphalt, an excited laugh leaving his mouth.

“Sometimes, he baffles me with how much of a nerd he is, I swear.” Max says, holding out her hand to help El out of the car. El just gave her a half-smile in return.

“It’s cute how excited he is though” Will said, getting out of the car.

“Guys hurry up!”

“Mike, we literally have all day calm down.” Steve said, laughing a little.

“Oh hush, he’s excited, leave him alone.” Nancy said. “Let’s just go before he runs off and gets lost.”

Will managed to catch up to mike, who had already gotten to the entrance and was pretty much bouncing in his spot. ”Excited?” Will asked him, smiling.

“Definitely! I’ve always wanted to come here, I love all the animals so much!” Mike said, grinning.

“What’s your favorite?” Will asked, turning to face him.

“Ooo uh, either the koalas or the lions or the penguins, I can’t choose.” Mike says

“I think mine are the elephants. They’re so big but so sweet and smart. And obviously cute.” Will grabs Mike’s hand, lacing their fingers. “But, yours are all great ones.”

“There are so many animals here! I can’t wait to see them! We need to find out everyone’s favorites so no one gets pissed!” Mike was practically vibrating.

“I want to see the snakes.” El leans her arm on Will’s shoulder.

“The snakes? I want to see the tigers.” Max says.

“I just don’t want to lose any of you shitheads. I’d like to avoid Hopper killing me for at least another day.” Steve interjects, biting his lip.

“Drama queen.” Nancy lightly shoves Steve. He barks out a laugh. “I’m being serious! He might actually kill me if any of you disappear”

“We won’t get lost.” Will said “Now, lets’ go before Mike falls over.” he said laughing.

The group walked in, Mike immediately dragging Will over to the first animal he saw, being the meerkats “Guys! Guys, look.”

“What are they?” El asks, face practically pressed against the glass.

“Meerkats! Aren’t they cute?” Mike’s face was pressed up against the glass.

“Says here that their groups are called gangs. That’s adorable.” Steve says, the others roll their eyes.

They watched the meerkats play for a few minutes, before moving on to the next animal. Mike leading the group, pulling Will by his hand.

“Come on! We gotta try and see as many animals as we can!” Mike is practically skipping.

They stayed most of the day. The zoo didn’t close until 10pm, and Mike had begged to stay until it closed, even though he was dead tired by the end of the day. They got back to the car finally and started heading home.

The party was quiet in the car. El and Max were asleep with their heads resting on top of one another. Lucas was sleeping with his head resting against the window; Dustin had his head leaning all the way back, snores escaping his lips. Mike’s head was against Will’s shoulder. Mike hadn’t fallen asleep yet, but he could feel his tired eyelids getting heavier. Mike thought that Will was asleep until he quietly broke the silence.

“Did you have fun?” Will’s chest vibrates softly as he speaks.

“Yeah, I did. It was great. I’m really glad we all went.” Mike tilts his head to look at Will. A sleepy smile painting his face.

“I’m glad we went together, too. We really wanted your birthday to be special,” Will’s rests his right hand in his lap, almost brushing Mike’s own hand. “You always go above and beyond for our birthdays.”

Mike figures out that Will is quietly asking if he can hold his hand, and interlaces their fingers. “That’s because you guys deserve it. You guys are the most important people in the world to me.” Mike’s thumb brushes across the back of Will’s hand slowly. “It’s nothing.” He finishes.

“It is too a big deal. It means a lot to all of us,” Will squeezes Mike’s hand, leaning more into Mike. “And, you know, you mean the world to us. To me.” Will blushes at his own words.

Mike’s cheeks turn a bright pink, but he has a wide smile and his eyes shine. “Thanks Will. You mean the world to me too.” Mike tilts his head up and kisses Will’s cheek.

“I love you” Will said softly, Mike froze for a second, biting his lip. He didn’t know what to say for a moment, it made his heart stop. He had to admit that it still made him anxious, even if it was Will.

“I love you too.” Mike said after a moment, a small smile on his face.

“You don’t have to say it back, you know.” Will stares out the window, pink dusting his cheeks. “I just want you to know.” He adds, his left hand scratching the back of is neck.

“I’m saying it because it’s true. I do. Love you. I love you.” Mike says, his own face just a pink as Will’s.

“Good” Will said softly, leaning down to press his lips to Mike’s. The kiss was soft and sweet, just like every other kiss they’ve shared. And to mike, every kiss was better than the last.

When they pulled away, the kiss lasting just a couple minutes, will leaned his forehead against Mike’s, smiling softly. “You should sleep, Mikey” he said, bringing their hands up to softly kiss the back of Mike’s hand.

“I’ll wake you up when we get home, alright?” Will said.

Mike nodded “Okay.” He said softly, nuzzling his head into Will’s shoulder “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mikey.”

Mike hadn’t expected there to be more when he passed out in his bed in the cabin later that night. He hadn’t even expected any of this, but he really hadn’t expected to be woken up the next day by Will, instead of Hopper yelling breakfast while the smell of coffee filled the entire cabin.

Mike had been in his bed, sleeping soundly. Well, as soundly as Mike could. He was sprawled across the entire bed, lanky limbs going every which way. His hair was incredibly messy and curlier than he would like. He had a small pool of drool wetting his pillow next to his open mouth. A stranger looking in would probably wrinkle their nose, but Will thought Mike looked beautiful.

“Mikey?” Will sits on the bed gingerly, pushing hair away from Mike’s forehead. “Wake up.”

Mike groaned quietly, still not opening his eyes. “Five more minutes.” He mumbled, flipping over and burying his face into the side of Will’s leg.

Will smiled, his heart seizing at the sight. “Mikey, it’s already twelve in the afternoon. You can’t sleep forever.” Will chuckles.

“Watch me.” Mike retorts, but opens his eyes anyway and balls his fist to rub the sleep out of them.

“Will?” Mike said, blinking and sitting up. “When... When did you get here?” He said, blushing, maybe a little embarrassed.

“Just about an hour ago.” Will said, squeezing Mike’s hand. “Don’t worry, alright?” He said, just sensing the other boy was embarrassed. “You’re cute when you’re asleep.”

Mike just blushed again “Wait, why are you here? I thought you went home last night?” Mike said

“Well, I did, but I came back this morning, Today’s just gonna be you and me alright?”

“What do you mean?” Mike furrows his brow, head tilting to the left.

Will smiles gently. “I mean, the last two days have been with everyone, but I wanted to celebrate, just me and you.” Will places his hand on Mike’s knee.

“These past few days have been amazing, but I did miss spending time with just you. Sometimes being with everyone is exhausting.”

Will took in Mike’s appearance. His smile was tired and his skin was pale. The circles under his eyes were a deep purples and filled with bags. But his eyes were bright and Will knew he was happy. That was all he needed.

“Well, I don’t have any excursions planned.” Will pats Mike’s knee and then leans against the iron headboard behind him. “We can just lay here for awhile. Hopper’s at work and El is at the arcade with Dustin and Lucas and Max.” Will finishes.

Mike blushes a deep red, his gaze shifting. He didn’t think Will was interested in doing anything like that, and Mike didn’t think he was ready just yet. Will was confused at Mike’s expression. The others weren’t there so they didn’t have to be too careful on being too affectionate before they became officially together to everyone. Mid-thought, the implication of his wording caught up to him and he became as red as Mike.

Will’s eyes widened. “Oh my god! That’s not what I meant! I’m so sorry! I meant that we don't have to police ourselves! Because they don’t know everything. Not that, definitely not yet. We are so not ready for that!” Will scrambles to apologize; praying to whoever is out there that Mike isn’t uncomfortable.

“No! No! It’s okay” Mike said, leaning his head against Will’s shoulder. “i just thought, you were saying no one was here and everyone was busy so I figured..” He trailed off, blushing bright red.

“No, no, not until we’re both ready, alright?” Will said, running his fingers through Mike’s hair. They fell into a silence then, Mike’s cheeks still red.

“Do you want to get up and get something to eat?” Will asked slowly. Mike shook his head. “Ate too much this weekend...” He mumbled to himself, probably hoping Will hadn’t heard him.

Will debated on saying anything, he knew he probably should, but he didn’t want to risk upsetting him. He wanted Mike to be happy. He really didn’t want to ruin the mood of the weekend by arguing with him over food.

“Alright, what do you want to do?”

“Can we just lay down for awhile. I’m still really tired.” Mike’s shoulders starting to sag.

“Of course.” Will smiles and lies down fully in bed. “Nothing I’d enjoy more.” Will goes in to press a kiss to Mike’s lips but Mike pulls away.

“Let me brush my teeth before you kiss me. Morning breath.” Mike smiles and leaves the room for a few minutes. When he finishes, he climbs back into bed with Will cuddling up into his chest.

“I like this. I like that we don’t always have to be doing something.” Will starts to play with Mike hair, resting his chin on the crown of his head.

Mike throws his arm around Will’s waist. “It’s relaxing.”

Will presses a kiss to Mike’s forehead. When he pulls back, Mike tilts his chin up and looks him in the eyes quietly for a moment. Before Will could think of what to do next, Mike leans in and kisses Will. It started off how they usually do, untll the air seemed to change and something shifted.

Unlike their normal kisses, this one lasted longer. They usually were content with short and soft and sweet kisses. But this one seemed to go on for longer. It was lazy and still soft, but there was more behind it. There still was no expectation of going anywhere beyond this, but it was a nice change. They had only kissed like this once before, the night of Mike’s birthday party. It was nice.

“Wow,” Mike said softly when they finally pulled away. “That’s better every time.” He says softly, his forehead against Will’s.

“It does.” Will says softly, smiling.

Mike moved so his head was back on Will’s chest. “It’s nice to just be...us,” Mike said softly. “It’s quiet, I like quiet.” He mumbled.

“It is.” Will says, twirling one of Mike’s curls around his finger, tugging slightly. “Quiet is nice, after being so loud the past two days.”

Mike nodded. “This weekend has been so much fun.” Mike says, “I’m not ready for it to end, to have to go back to school tomorrow”

Will pulled Mike a little bit tighter. They could all see how much the shit at school was getting to Mike. He tried so hard to hide it and push it deep down inside, but they knew him too well to not see it. This weekend they were completely detached from all that. No one had batted an eye when Will and Mike held hands or were close. No one said anything remotely negative to Mike. School was not so kind.

“I wish we could just stay like this.” Will continues to run his fingers through Mike’s hair. Mike stroked Will’s back softly. “Stay in here, keep it all locked out there and just stay here.”

Mike’s head falls forward and rests on Will’s chest. “That’d be nice.” Mike mumbles.

“But it’s just not like that,” Mike continued. “We have to deal with all the shit, with people being assholes about everything.” He said quietly.

Will nodded, his hand on the back of Mike’s head “Yeah, we do.” He said softly. “I wish we didn’t have to though.”

They went silent after that, Mike closing his eyes, listening to Will’s steady heart beat. “I love you” Will said softly, resting his chin on top of Mike’s head.

“I love you too.”

“I like saying that. I love you, it’s nice.” Will whispers, twirling one of Mike’s curls with his finger.  

“I like saying it too. It feels nice, feels right.” Mike mumbles, eyes closed.

Will hums in response, too tired to even respond properly. Mike thinks he could spend the rest of his life, right here, half asleep curled up next to Will. He doesn’t think anything could be better.

Well, there you go! We hope you enjoyed this part! We know that the last few parts were pretty heavy so we wanted to have so fluff too. 

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