#quarter life crisis is uh...not fun!

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Put On The Red Light | Part 2

18+ Eddie Munson x Steve Harrington

Summary: When Eddie's long-lost cousin, Roxy, shows up on his doorstep, he must accept that his whole life is changing once again.

Warnings: pov changes 3 times between eddie, roxy and steve | angst, parental death, cancer, narcissistic parents, anxiety, jealous Eddie, sexuality crisis, insecure Eddie, parental issues, implied/referenced parental abuse/neglect, background Wayne/Mr. Clarke, adoption, coming out, implied/referenced sexual abuse (more detailed next chapter)

word count: 10.6k

masterlist

Eddie wakes up around 8am… really, thats just when he stops tossing and turning and forces himself out of the bed. He gets ready as quietly as possible and sneaks out the front door without waking Wayne in the process. He pulls out of the trailer park at just a quarter after 8, heading right to the Wheeler's place for a nice chat with the smartest person he knows. 

Karen Wheeler opens the door with her hair still in rollers and her bright pink robe on, “Eddie… you’re here early?” 

“I know, I’m sorry, Mrs. Wheeler,” Eddie apologizes. “Would Nancy happen to be awake yet? I need her help with something.” 

Karen nods, “She just finished her breakfast, hold on,” she turns away from him and yells into the house, “Nancy!” 

“Yeah?” She peaks around the corner and sees Eddie at the door. “Hey, what’s wrong?” She asks because she knows him pretty well by now, he wouldn’t be at her door, dressed and aware of his surroundings at this time of day if something wasn’t wrong. 

“I uh, I need help with something at the library… at least, I think it’s at the library, I really don’t know what I’m doing… I just need your help, please?” he hates to admit it out loud. 

“Yeah, come in and I’ll just get changed and then we can go?” Nancy offers and Karen ushers him inside. 

“Thanks, really, it’s kind of hard to explain…” 

“I’ll be down in a sec, save it for the ride over,” she doesn’t want him to worry about her parents overhearing them and then she takes off, up the stairs. 

“Did you eat? I can make you something?” Karen immediately offers, not letting a single moment of silence pass. 

He shakes his head, “I’m good, thanks, Mrs. Wheeler.” 

“Oh, really it’s no problem on my end, I keep making the normal amount of food for breakfast but Mike isn’t ever here now that the Byers are back in town, so I always have extra,” she explains, making Eddie follow her into the kitchen. 

“In that case… Wayne has always called me a human garbage can, I always eat all the leftovers.” 

“See, you’re helping me out, not putting me out,” Karen can’t help but laugh. 

She takes a plate down from the cupboard and dumps the remaining scrambled eggs from the frying pan on it. She gives him the last 3 pieces of bacon and sets the plate down in front of him. “Do you want toast? Orange juice?” 

“This is more than enough, thank you,” he doesn’t want to impose anymore, he just takes the fork she gave him and digs in. 

He doesn’t mean to scarf it all down so fast, he just had no idea when Nancy would be back down and he’d hate to make her wait when this is his idea in the first place. He’s been thinking over the plan all night, he’s figured out how to let Wayne know how much he loves him and needs him and Nancy’s the only person he can ask for advice about legal documents. 

Nancy comes running back down the stairs just as he’s putting his fork down on the placemat, “hey, you ready?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good,” he covers his mouth to talk and finishes his last bite and then he stands. “Thank you so much, again, Mrs. Wheeler, really.” 

“You’re welcome, you guys have fun, let me know if you won’t be back for dinner,” she turns to Nancy at the end, “I love you.” 

“Love you, too,” Nancy gives her a smile and a wave, “see ya!” 

She doesn’t ask what’s up until they’re both in the van, “Please don’t tell me something bad is happening in the town again… I can’t do two in the same calendar year.” 

Eddie sighs, “No, no… it’s not a thing like that. Um, you know Matilda, the Roald Dahl book? She gets adopted by Miss Honey at the end and it doesn’t matter if it was a real adoption or not because Miss Honey loved her more than any blood relative could’ve? Like, Miss Honey was her family. Period. End of discussion?” 

Nancy nods along, “yeah?” 

“She still wanted to make it real. She still wanted Miss Honey to be her mom on paper even though she was her mom in her heart… and she got the adoption papers from the library… where would I get them?” 

“I think you get them at the courthouse?” Nancy offered, not pushing him with questions or trying to change his mind. She simply smiled and put on her seatbelt. 

“To the courthouse we go…” 

—

Wayne knocks on her door just a little after 11 am, she didn’t expect him to come all the way up to her apartment but he did. She opens the door with a big smile, “Hey, Dad, I was just about to come down and wait for you…” 

“I wanted to check the place out,” he says, peaking over her shoulder to get a good look… just like she did yesterday with Eddie. 

“Come in,” she extends her arm out and moves out of the way. “It’s not much but it’ll work for a while… uh, it was partially furnished, so I have a bed and a couch and some pots and pans and things… and I went to the grocery store yesterday morning before I went to the trailer,” She follows him around while she talks, watching him take a look at everything. 

“It’s a lot nicer than it used to be,” Wayne compliments, his lips pursed together as he nods. 

“You’ve been in here before?” 

“Yeah… Eddie’s mom rented this unit for a while, it was only a short walk to the hospital—

“Oh my god, it all makes sense now…”

“What does?” 

“He got snarky when you told him where I lived and then he didn’t drive me home last night. Steve did,” she explains. “And then when he dropped me off, Steve said if I ever needed a ride anywhere and you’re not available, I should call him and not Eddie… I thought maybe it was just him being a flirt like you said, but then it felt a lot more like Eddie was avoiding this place… and like Steve was protecting him.”

Wayne gives her a simple nod, “Yeah… his mom basically died in here.” 

“In here?” She points to the floor and her eyes widen in fear. 

“She technically took her last breath in the hospital but, yeah,” he doesn’t know how to really say it. “She faded away to nothing here, he was only 8 when she got sick, 12 when she died. It’s been hard on him.” 

She feels terrible, “I can’t imagine losing my mom when I was 12, it’s hard enough now…” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s just hard being away from her,” she shrugs it off. She doesn’t want to get into it all right now. She really can’t get into it now or she’ll ruin the whole day for herself with her tears. She still has some questions to ask and opinions to learn… She can’t lose him once he knows, too. 

“You’re growing up, it’s hard,” he at least tries to sympathize. “But you seem good here, you call me if anything breaks or they give you a hard time, okay?” 

“Okay, Dad,” she gives him the sweetest smile, she loves that she gets to call him that. That it’s real. He is her dad. “Uh, while I’ve got you here, I made something for you…” 

“Oh, why?” He’s a bit taken aback, he didn’t expect this. 

He follows her into the little kitchen and thats where he sees it. On the counter, she has a present waiting to be opened by him. She knew she wanted to give it to him today or tomorrow and this was the perfect chance. She gets him to sit at the table with her and she places the neatly wrapped gift in front of him. 

“Even though Father's Day is technically tomorrow, I wanted to give you this… and I needed to do it here and not in front of Eddie 'cause he’s having a hard time with all this.” 

“Is he?” Wayne instantly worries. 

“Yeah… I mean, now that I know his mom died I can see why. All he has left is you,” she finds it incredibly easy to sympathize. “It’s only natural to panic about sharing your only parent, just most people go through it when they’re toddlers.” 

“He wasn’t home this morning but I wanted to make sure he has dinner with us tonight, for this reason. I can’t have him thinking I like you more than him and vice versa. I love you equally,” he assures her. Staring her down with those Munson eyes she’s only seen in the mirror for 19 years. “You’re both my kids.”

Her eyes well with tears, “I love you, too… open it up.” 

“Okay,” he has to look away or he’ll cry too. He peels the brown wrapping paper gently, uncovering a scrapbook. “Oh, wow.” 

“When I was getting ready to leave, I went through all my photos and realized mom had two of everything… I really wanted you to see what I was like as a kid,” she explains, watching him flip from page to page, completely silent. 

He runs his finger over some of the pictures, taking in her features and watching her change over 18 years in just a few pages. He looks sad, realizing he missed out on so much of her life… and so much of it looks lonesome. She’s alone in most of her photos, her eyes have dark rings around them and she hasn’t smiled much past 8 years old. 

“What happened?” 

“What do you mean?” She leans over to see what photo he’s on, “Nothing happened there?” 

“I know this look, this is the look of a kid going through hell… Eddie looked the same when I took him in,” he taps the page and stares her down, “Did they hurt you?” 

She shakes her head, “Oh no, god, no! I just got bullied at school, I didn’t have good friends, it was normal at home… for the most part. They barely talked to me, they didn’t have the time to hurt me.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Wayne’s heart is clearly broken. “Not only did I miss out on your life, I couldn’t save you from the hard parts of it…” 

“No, but you saved Eddie and now Eddie is saving me,” Roxy shrugs, lips pressed together tightly, she didn’t know how much she wanted to tell him… it’s not really something a dad wants to hear.  

“How?” He doesn’t get it, he’s barely seen them interact. 

“I had this whole plan,” she says, taking a seat across from him at the table. “I’ve been saving my money for years thinking I’d look all through the entire state of Indiana for you… I was going to do everything to find my dad and then 3 months before I graduated, 3 months before I was going to run away to find you, my real last name is all over the news… if that didn’t happen to him, then I wouldn’t be here yet. I wouldn’t have you, yet,” Roxy explains, so sure of it. 

“That was the worst week of my life,” Wayne can't even begin to explain how awful it was. “I walked into my own home to find a dead girl I didn’t know and Eddie was no where to be found… and I couldn’t find him for a week. And when I did find him, he was in the hospital with stab wounds that looked more like something took a bite out of him. It was awful.” 

“I’m so sorry,” she reaches out for his hand across the table and takes it. “I can’t imagine what that’s like.” 

“If you’re the outcome, then it was well worth it… at least on my end, that pain paid off for me,” he gives her a small smile. “But I don’t expect Eddie to feel the same. ‘Cause nothings been the same since then. We lost most of his things in the earthquake, we’ve started fresh in the trailer and he’s barely ever home now that he knows Steve and Robin… and I get it, he went to hell and back with them, no wonder he finds it so easy to talk to them about it… I just wish he’d talk to me on his bad nights.” 

“Tell him that,” she can’t stress that enough. “I’m sure he knows but tell him anyway… Personally, I don’t think there’s any such thing as too much love.” 

“I love you,” he says directly to her for the first time, staring deep into her brown eyes… realizing how they’re a lot lighter than Eddie’s. Almost hazel. And then he gives her hand another squeeze. “I love you a lot.” 

“I love you, too,” she laughs as the tears stream down her cheeks, “Happy Father's Day.”  

He laughs then too, a single tear slips out and he wipes it off his face with his free hand, “Happy Father's Day to you too… say, you got a camera around here?” 

She nods, “I do, why, did you want to take a photo?” 

“We might as well put one in here together, and, if you want, maybe we can take one all together tonight?” He suggests, wanting to make sure Eddie felt included later too. 

“That sounds like a great idea.” 

—

When Eddie comes back home he stops dead in his tracks when he smells it… Wayne's famous brisket. 

“There he is!” Wayne cheers and walks over to him, “Whatcha got there?” He notices the yellow envelope in his hand just as he goes to hug him. 

“Oh, some job applications,” he lies, Wayne was on him about getting something to do during the days, so it’s believable for now. 

“Good, good,” he places his hands on Eddie's shoulders and brings him into a hug. “Please tell me you can stay for dinner?” 

Eddie nods, “Yeah, I can… I’m not going to see Steve tonight.” 

Wayne's brows furrow and he’s clearly shocked. “At all?”

He shakes his head, still holding Wayne tight. It’s been a while since they had a good hug. “Nah, I think I need a night with you… and Rox, too I guess?” 

Wayne pulls back first, “She’s here,” he points back to her and she gives him a smile and a wave, “She’s been helping me in the kitchen.” 

“He’s a great teacher,” Roxy adds. “I hear this Mac and cheese is your favourite?” 

“Oh, fuck yes!” He celebrates, this is the best thing to happen to him in a few days. “What’s the occasion?” 

“It’s my first Father's Day with both my kids,” Wayne announces, so, so proud of himself. 

Eddie loves to see the smile on his face, he can’t help but smile back, “So are we doing gifts tonight, or?” 

“I gave him mine already,” Roxy is honest, and from the look on her face she feels a little scared for his reaction. 

“So, I can give mine tonight like normal?” Eddie turns back to Wayne, “I’d really like to keep this as normal as possible.” 

“We want the same thing… I love you, kid,” Wayne reaches back out for him and rubs his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy these last few months, I don’t want you to think I’m replacing you.” 

“I know you’re not,” Eddie gives him a solemn smile. “But you know me, you know I’m weird with change. This was the cherry on top of the shit show that has been my life lately… I hate myself a little for reacting like a two-year-old with a new sister on the way, but I can’t help it. I’m not good with this shit.” 

“Not much is changing,” Wayne assures him.

“I want to continue this at dinner…” Eddie admits, “I had a whole speech planned out and a certain way I wanted to say all this, can I just go to my room for a bit?” 

“Sure, yeah,” Wayne gives in, knowing how Eddie reacts when things aren’t going according to his plan. He gets testy and anxious.

Eddie hurries off to his room and closes the door, taking the documents out of the manilla folder and grabbing his dnd book to use as a hard surface. He wanted to sign the papers before he presented them to Wayne… the adoption process is a lot simpler when it’s an adult being adopted, all they require is Eddie and Wayne’s signatures on the petition and then the court would finalize it, pending a short court appearance with lots of questions. They just wanted to make sure creeps weren’t adopting their girlfriends and greedy assholes didn’t steal money from vulnerable, yet rich, elderly people. 

Eddie and Wayne were definitely neither of those things. He knew it would be granted to him, he knew Wayne would be his dad in a matter of weeks… it was all going to be okay. 

Eddie got two copies of the adoption papers, too, because if this was his way of evening the playing field, Roxy deserved the chance to be Wayne’s kid on paper too. Thats only if she wasn’t already, he has a feeling that if she knew her dad’s name her whole life then it’s most likely on her birth certificate. It’s been real for her whole life. 

He has a moment to change and listen to a few songs so he can calm down, his mind is racing with the speech he wants to give and it keeps changing the more he thinks about it. He has so much he wants to say, so much he wants to thank Wayne for… he barely even knows where to start. 

He folds the pages up and puts them in his back pocket when he’s called out for dinner. Wayne’s famous brisket over Mac and cheese was his favourite meal in the world, he gets it maybe 3 times a year, and it was really special. And so, so delicious.  

Roxy talks up a storm about how cool Wayne's stories are, Eddie’s heard them all before but she’s right, they are cool. Wayne grew up in Florida, his mom comes from the large Jewish population there and his dad was from Louisiana meaning there were a lot of Cajun spices in this once-traditional Jewish brisket. 

Eddie takes his last bites and sets his fork down on the plate gently, he knows he has to start now, it’s just a little scary. “I um, I just wanted to say I’m sorry—

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Roxy cuts him off, thinking this is about her again. 

“No, I do… I got all pissy thinking you were stealing my dad from me when I’ve barely been home these last few months,” Eddie admits. “It’s been hard dealing with it all and— and you know what? Fuck it. I might as well be honest with both of you now that I know this is a permanent thing… basically, I got out of all that shit in March and all I wanted was to make Steve love me back, I never even thanked you for all the searching you did and the time you spent with me in the police station and in the hospital. I’ve never thanked you for anything, my whole life, actually.” 

“You don’t need to,” Wayne waves it off, he never did this for a thank you. He did it cause Eddie deserved a normal childhood. He did it because he's always loved him. 

“But I want to,” Eddie reaches into his back pocket and puts the pages down on the table. “You’ve been the best dad I could’ve ever asked for… but you’re not my dad and I think thats why I got so upset yesterday. You can call us both your kids, sure, but if you sign this then you can make it real, and Rox,” he hands her another copy of the papers, “there’s another copy here, I didn’t know if he’s on your birth certificate or not?” 

“He is,” Roxy says with a smile, she places her hand on her heart and swoons, “You really thought of me?” 

Eddie nods, “It’s only fair. That’s all I wanted. We’re both his kids, it should be official… if you want?” 

“I want. There’s nothing more that I want, son,” Wayne takes the pages and unfolds them, “You got a pen?” 

“Yeah, I do,” Eddie quickly reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a pen, he hands it to Wayne and watches him sign the few lines he was required to. “there… is that it?” 

“For now, we need to pick a day to bring it to the courthouse and have a judge sign off on it, apparently dudes try to adopt their girlfriends and shit so they have to do background checks,” Eddie still can’t believe the lady who gave him the papers said that. And that people really try and do that… it’s so weird.

“Ew,” Roxy vocalizes her disgust, “really?” 

He just nods, “Yeah… but I mean, our local judge is Lucas’s dad so, I think it’ll go through pretty easily and you’ll be my real dad in no time.” 

“And my brother,” Roxy gives him a glorious smile. “I always wanted a big brother.” 

“As your big brother I have some ground rules,” he says with confidence, even though on the inside he’s terrified. “I know you already said yes to that date with Steve, but he’s mine. I’ll share Wayne, I’ll share Friday night pizzas with my friends, I’ll share the fucking trailer if I have to… I just can’t share Steve.” 

“Oh, no you don’t have to worry at all…” She puts her hands up in surrender and she looks genuinely scared, she turns to Wayne and then back to Eddie and she realizes right then and there that this is it. This is the moment, she has to take it. “I’m… I’m a lesbian.” 

“Oh,” Eddie’s shoulders drop, his mouth hangs open while he stares at her. “oh…” 

“That’s wonderful,” Wayne reaches over for her hand and gives her a smile. “We’ll have to set you up with one of Eddie’s girlfriends, I think Robin—

“For sure, Robin,” Eddie can’t help but smile. “She had a feeling we were more alike than I thought.” 

“She’d be right,” Roxy laughs through her tears, overwhelmed with love and acceptance… this is how it should’ve gone with her mom. “Thank you, thank you,  really.” 

“Always, sweetheart,” Wayne looks at her with so much love in his heart. And then to Eddie, he reaches out his other hand to hold them both and he sits up a bit straighter for his own announcement. “I think it’s 'bout time you both know I’ve been seein’ someone, too… it’s serious, he’s coming over to meet you both around 8.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Roxy is overjoyed for him. “What’s his name?” 

“Scott Clarke,” Eddie answers with a knowing smile. 

“How’d you—

“Do you just like talking to Steve and Robin on Sundays before work…? Is that why you bring the tapes all the way up to the desk instead of the drop-off bin outside?” Eddie questions, smirking away, enjoying the shade of pink Wayne was turning. “They’re not dumb.” 

“Oh hush, you should be happy for me!” Wayne shoots back. 

“I am!” Eddie squeezes his hand a bit tighter, shaking it too. “How’d it happen?” 

“Yeah, tell us everything?” Roxy adds, the same big smile plastered to her own face. 

“He was takin’ names at the shelter after the quake, he knew I’d need a friend and he put his cot next to mine… we talked for 2 days before Dustin told me about Eddie, it was the worst week of my life but Scott made it a bit better,” Wayne shares, laying his whole heart on the line. “I know it must be weird for both of you, you know, I was with your mom and Eddie’s seen me date ladies over the years, but never a man… not that I didn’t see men, I just haven’t felt— I haven’t been brave enough to bring a man here, not until Eddie came out to me.” 

Roxy lays her other hand on top of his, holding him close, “There isn’t a time limit on coming out, you know? It’s actually really normal to not know as early as we do,” she references to herself and Eddie. “You get to be happy and yourself for the rest of your life now… I just hope he’s good to you.” 

“He’s wonderful,” Wayne swoons. “I can’t even begin to tell ya, you’ll just have to find out when you meet him.” 

“I can’t wait.” 

“Me either,” Eddie agrees, even though he knows Mr. Clarke. “You know he taught me that first year I lived here, in the trailer, right?” 

Wayne nods, “he said you were a little shit and I couldn’t agree more.” 

“Oh, I see,” Eddie playfully rolls his eyes. “But, no, really, he is a great guy, Rox. He’s one of the best teachers around, he actually asked me to keep an eye out for Dustin when he moved up to high school.” 

“He did?” Wayne didn’t know that. 

Eddie nods, “Yeah, last September, apparently Dustin and Mike were walking down to the middle school to have lunch with him every day and he so sent them my way instead.” 

“He has a huge heart,” Wayne can’t sing his praise any louder, even the look on his face screams love. He’s so gone for a science teacher of all people. It’s cute. Eddie’s really happy for him. 

“You guys serious?” Eddie can’t help but wonder cause Wayne looks like he’s in love.

Wayne nods, “I’m thinking I might start staying at his place on Saturday nights, so you’d have the trailer to yourself… with Steve.” 

“He has an empty house 7 days a week, if we wanted alone time we’d go there,” Eddie reminds him with a smirk. “I don’t think he swings this way, however.” 

“Ah…” Roxy grits her teeth and tilts her head, thinking differently. “I wouldn’t say that.” 

“You can like both, clearly,” Wayne references to himself, dropping both their hands and crossing his arms. “Seriously, how could he not like you?” 

“Thanks, dad… I’m really glad we can talk to each other like this,” he softens again. “It’s nice.” 

“I always want you to come talk to me, both of you,” he looks back and forth between them. “I love you.”

They both say it back to him at the same time, only Eddie says it a little bit faster, sticking his tongue out at Roxy right after. “I win.” 

“This time,” Roxy teases back. “You know, we should take that family photo you wanted,” Roxy reminds Wayne, standing from the table to find her purse. 

“Maybe we can get Scott to take it?” Wayne suggests, “It’ll look better that way.” 

—

They’re all laughing when there’s a knock at the door, making all their heads spin towards it. “He’s here,” Wayne gleams, standing up from the table to go and answer it. “Scotty.” 

“Hey,” Scott walks into the trailer and right into Wayne's arms, holding him tight with his face in Wayne's neck. He breathes him in quickly and then pulls back with a smile and then he notices the other two people in the room. “Oh, oh, hi…”

“Scotty, these are my kids… you know Eddie already but, this is Roxy.” 

“Hello,” Roxy comes right over and puts out her hand, “it’s so nice to meet you.” 

Scott shakes her hand gently, “You look so much like Wayne, it’s remarkable… he said you looked a lot like Eddie but I had no idea this much.” 

She smiles, turning back to Eddie, “We need to start telling people we’re twins.” 

“I’m 2 years older than you,” he snips back. 

“So, when you turn 21 we can use it to our advant—” 

“Okay, hush with that,” Wayne steps in, smiling the whole time, “you can be delinquents when he goes home.” 

“Sorry… hey, Mr. Clarke,” Eddie just gives him a little wave. 

“Scott is just fine, it’s been ages since I was your teacher,” Scott can’t help but laugh. 

“Hmm, I don’t know, you’re always gonna be Mr. Clarke the only good teacher I’ve ever had,” Eddie compliments him in his own way, “it’ll be nice to have you around more.” 

“And you’re both okay with this?” Scott looks so genuinely worried. He knows Wayne well enough already to know that his kids are his world, even if it’s only been a few days since he found out about Roxy. 

“Super okay with it,” Roxy assures, “I always wanted a dad and now I might get two…” 

“Wait, can we call you our stepdad, now?” 

“No.” Wayne shakes his head at the same time that Scott lights up with a very enthusiastic, “Yes!” 

“Really?” Wayne looks at him, full of shock and awe. 

He nods, “If you’re okay with it?” 

Wayne holds his hand a bit tighter. “Well, how would you like to take a photo of me and your stepkids?” 

They get him the camera, they gather on the couch, one kid on either side of Wayne and they all smile. It’s the same smile. Their eyes light up with little wrinkles around them, they have dimples on their left cheeks, and they’re 100% a family. No tests needed. 

—

“Is there like an ice cream place here at all?” Roxy asks, wanting to break away for a bit. “We should go hang out, just us.” 

“Uh, not really? But we can get something at the 7/11?” Eddie suggests, “Come on, I’ll drive… Wayne, you guys want anything from the store?” 

“I’m good, you good?” He asks Scott, arm around him while they sit on the couch. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” Scott just scoots in closer to Wayne and smiles, he’s overjoyed with being out and supported for the first time in his life. 

“We’ll be back,” Eddie announces, he holds the front door open and lets Roxy out first, following quickly behind her and towards his van. 

They hop in at the same time, slamming their doors in tandem. He shoves the key in the ignition and turns it, starting his noisy van with a rumble. They buckle up, he throws her in reverse and he whips them around with a smile, “Do you drive at all?” 

She shakes her head, “no, I didn’t really need to drive cause I had a bus system to get around in Chicago… I really liked the bus.” 

“We have 1 bus but it only takes people into Indianapolis and it’s 3 times a week,” Eddie shares, “did you have to go to Indy first before you got here?” 

“I did, it took a few hours and I could only bring 2 bags of my things, but, it’s what I had to do,” she explains with a sigh, looking out the window at her new town. 

“If you want to go back and get some stuff we can use my van,” he offers, “it’s only fair.”

“I can ask Steve to help, you don’t have to—

“Really?” He almost can't believe it. “Why?”

“It’s not like that, believe me, he just… he asked me to call him instead of you if it involves coming to my apartment and Wayne told me why,” she explains, knowing this is going to suck to talk about. “I’m sorry, Eddie.” 

“Oh,” he didn’t expect either of them to tell her. At least not so soon. “It’s okay, I should be over it by now…” 

“No, you don’t have to get over it! She was your mom,” Roxy pushes back. “I don't want you to come over if it’s going to bring everything back, we can hang out at the trailer or with your friends and Steve made it clear he will drive me home for you.” 

“Don’t lead him on,” Eddie blurts out. He can’t help but worry. 

“I don’t plan on it.” 

“It’s just… He thinks you’re pretty and he hasn’t gone on a date since everything happened in March, so that means he really liked you… I’m not saying call it off and ditch him, just… just don’t string him along and leave me with the tangled mess,” Eddie begs. “I love him too much to see him hurt.” 

“And he loves you the same,” Roxy points out. “He was adamant about keeping you from the apartment and I saw the eyes you gave each other at the party… and the way he looks at you like you hung the moon is admirable. I want something like that.” 

“You really think so?” 

“Absolutely,” Roxy gleams, making Eddie believe it too. “Wayne said you two are basically inseparable, he was genuinely surprised when you said you weren’t going to see him tonight.”

“I want to, believe me… it’s just-- I don’t want to talk to him about you right now, he’s really into you all cause you look like me,” Eddie explains, “you’re the safe option for him.” 

“Safe?” 

“Straight. Normal, appropriate,” he lists off some synonyms for her. “It’s everything I can’t give him.” 

It breaks her heart a little to hear but she understands it perfectly. She stares at him for a moment, wanting to do something to help but she doesn’t know what… “do you want me to talk to him about it?” 

“What?” He panics a bit.

“I don’t know, man, maybe I could relate to him? I know what this is like… it’s not easy growing up in a family that looks at you but doesn’t see you, they have this whole life imagined out for you and you never fulfil their dreams and then you have to accept that in order to be yourself and be happy you have to leave them. If he wants to be happy, if he wants you, he should be able to have that, even if never talking to your mom again hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.” 

He pulls into the 7/11 parking lot just then and parks, slowly he turns the van off and looks over at her with the gentlest eyes. She’s crying slightly, wishing she wasn’t but it hurts too much to pretend anymore. “I’m so sorry…” 

“It’s okay, I’m going to be okay here,” she wipes her tears and gives him a little smile. “But I can talk to him.” 

“Okay,” Eddie agrees, it’s a better idea than Will’s, and easier than Robin’s advice to just tell Steve himself. “I want to tell him I love him for the first time, myself, though, okay?” 

“Perfectly reasonable,” she swoons. “I’d do anything for you, Eddie… I think this new life is going to be good for me and I wouldn’t have it without you.” 

He takes his seatbelt off and reaches over for a hug, she does the same, meeting him halfway to squeeze him tightly. He digs his chin into her shoulder, closing his eyes and relaxing. 

Finally. 

—

She spends most of Sunday in bed, tired from the last few days. Moving was stressful, finding her dad was rewarding and sharing her feelings was way too vulnerable… she needed to recover. She wanted to spend the next 72 hours under her covers, alone, without any responsibilities… but that wasn’t possible. 

She had a date with Steve and his feelings tonight. 

Her plan was simple enough, they were going to have dinner and a chat and she was going to invite him back to share a bottle of vodka she stole from her grandma before she left… she was going to share her own feelings with him and in return, he’d tell her all of his own. 

And she wanted to ask about Robin… she’s so pretty and funny and kind… it wasn’t hard to daydream about a date with her instead. If things went right with Steve, he could put in a good word and maybe, just maybe, she’ll finally get to kiss another girl. She stared at Robin’s lips a little too much on Friday, she talked a mile-a-minute and her smile was beautiful, Roxy couldn’t help but stare. Couldn’t help but think about kissing her lips and holding her hands and telling her just how beautiful she is. She deserves to know someone’s falling for her, she deserves to be fawned over. She deserves the world. 

Instead of dwelling on what could be, she rolls herself out of bed and into the shower. It feels nice to take care of herself after such a rough week, she spends a little extra time in there just to relax before she has to do her hair and maybe some makeup… she doesn’t want to lead him on at all. She wanted to be his friend, badly. But nothing more. 

She gets ready quite quickly, cleans up her apartment in case he takes her up on her offer to come over and then she waits for him downstairs, in front of the building. 

“Hey!” Steve calls out, his windows all rolled down, he barely had the time to turn down his music. 

She hops into the passenger seat with a smile, “Hey, there.” 

“You look nice!” Steve compliments her, “You ready?” 

She nods, “Yeah, thanks. Let’s go, I’m starving.” 

Once she’s got her seatbelt on, Steve takes off down the road, music on low, he tosses a smile her way and then goes back to the road, “How are you?” 

“Good… tired, but good.” 

“Don’t tell me sleeping problems run in the Munson genes?” He teases. 

She laughs, “It does, but I slept okay. I’m just tired from moving and all the social stuff I’ve been doing.” 

“Yeah, I feel that, tomorrow is my last day off for the next week,” he shares.

“How late did you work last night?” She asks. 

“Closed at 10, was home around 10:45 after doing paperwork and dropping Robin off,” he explains. “I went over to the trailer but it looked like a full house, I didn’t want to intrude, so I just went home.” 

“Yeah, we did Father's Day dinner yesterday cause it was Wayne's only day off,” she pressed her lips together awkwardly, not saying that Eddie was avoiding him. 

“Oh shit, it's fathers day today…” 

“Forget to call your dad?” 

He shakes his head, “We don’t call each other unless we need to… like if I burned the house down or my mom was in the hospital.” 

“Oh,” she nods along. She was right. She could sense it in him, their lives were similar. 

Before she knows it, Steve is pulling up to a diner with a big blue and red neon sign illuminating the parking lot, making up for the lack of sunshine today. It was gloomy and gross out, something she was used to in Chicago and it followed her here. 

Steve opens her door for her, takes her hand to help her out and she smiles awkwardly as she thanks him. Wiping her hand off on her pant leg without meaning to, she keeps a bit of distance from him on the walk-in. He holds the door for her, lets her pick their booth and sits on the side facing the door so he can see everyone who walks in. He’s a protector type. No wonder Eddie was safe with him during whatever happened in March. 

They order pretty fast, both getting burgers and fries and a couple of cokes. The lady takes the order, she leaves them alone and they basically are. No one's in tonight, which is weird for Father's Day… but Steve says most families moved away after the earthquake, and those who stayed can’t really afford to eat out that often with repairs. 

They talk about the town, about his friends, the school he went to and she shares stories about living in the city. It’s nice. She can see why Eddie likes him so much. He’s easy to talk to, he’s kind, and even though she’s not into dudes, he is really pretty. 

She starts to pull apart at the piece of bun that fell off her burger and she eats it little by little as the conversation lulls to a halt. She feels awkward, he does too, so she says the first thing that comes to mind. 

Robin. 

“How long have you been friends with Robin?” 

“Oh, uh, I think a full year now,” he can’t believe it as he says it. “We started working together last summer at the mall… before it burned down.” 

“And you looked for another job together? That’s so cute,” she swoons. “Your friendship seems adorable.” 

“And you have nothing to worry about, she is strictly a friend. Platonic with a capital P as she would say,” he recalls with a fond smile. “She’s more of a sister to me than anything, I feel like we were separated at birth or something.” 

“No, that’s good, really good actually,” she makes a note of that. Hopefully, Robin didn’t have any romantic interest in him either. “My dad said you’re a huge flirt so I was wondering why you never flirted with her last night…” 

“I’m not a huge flirt?” He’s taken aback by that, “I’m just nice to the people I like…” 

“So you like my brother?” She teases him, she’s always picked up on the way Steve was with Eddie and vice versa. 

There was an obvious tension there. 

He stutters and turns a deep red, “what? no…” 

She leans in close and drops her voice so no one outside of their booth can hear her, “Is that why you asked me out? Cause I’m like a girl version of Eddie?” 

He buries his face in his hands and rests his elbows against the table with a groan, “how’d you figure me out so easily?” 

“Steve, this is perfect,” she reaches over and pats the top of his head as he looks up at her. She brushes his hair out of his face and smiles, keeping her voice low and just between them, she tells him the truth. “I was worried I wouldn’t find the queer scene in Hawkins, or if there even was one…? Do you know other gay people?” 

“I’m not…” he can’t even say the word, “but yeah, I do? Wait, are you saying you’re—” 

“Gay?” She confirms with a nod. “The gayest. I love women so much I almost passed out when I saw Robin for the first time.” 

“Oh, she’s going to love this,” he leans back against the booth and shakes his head with a building smile on his face and then he flicks his attention back to her. “Wait, so, you’re not mad I asked you out but don’t really have feelings for you?” 

She shakes her head, “you’re still paying, right?” She teases, not caring in the slightest. Having him as a friend was going to be nice.

“Of course,” it was a no-brainer to him. “Can I ask you something?” 

She nods, “anything?” 

“Robin always jokes about being the gay cousin in her family, so if you’re gay does that mean that Eddie won’t be?” He asks, legitimately believing the joke. 

“Steve, honey, that’s not a real statistic,” she wants to laugh at how absurd it was but he genuinely doesn’t know. “And why would it matter… you said you’re not gay?” 

He shrugs, “I’m not… I mean, I—I can’t talk about it here.” 

“That’s okay, but you should talk to someone about it… I’m done here if you want to go?” She offers, “I have a bottle of vodka at my apartment if you really want to get your feelings out?” 

“I would actually love that…” 

—

She sets the bottle and two shot glasses down on the table, “I only have Mountain Dew for a chaser… is that okay?” 

“Yeah,” Steve really didn’t care. “It’s been a bit since I’ve gotten drunk… we’ve had too much going on these last few months.” 

“I bet, I can’t believe how often your town was on the news lately,” she says from the kitchen. “Did you get hurt in the earthquake at all?” 

“I got hurt before… it’s a long story, I’m not even sure I can talk about it all. I can say it sucked, though,” he manages to give her a smile as she places the cans in front of him. “It was the worst week of my life. And I’ve been through some shit.” 

Steve pours them each a shot before she even sits down on the couch beside him. He can feel his heart beating 10 times as fast and his hands are clammy, but this is the best chance he has at getting all this shit out of him that’s haunted him for years. If he told Robin she’d give him a hug and she’d support him through it, obviously, and he’d love that but he doesn’t ever want her to look at him and know that she sees him differently… and Eddie. He can’t tell Eddie because if Eddie knew, he’d really kill someone and he’d really go away this time. 

Roxy is the best option. She’s safe, she’s kind, she’s gay… she has no idea who Steve Harrington is, he can’t ruin his reputation if it doesn’t exist here. 

He downs the shot and cracks open the mountain dew to chase it, coughing a bit, he makes a funny face, “God, that’s awful.” 

“I stole it before I left,” she admits, reaching for her own shot. “I doubt my grandma will even notice it’s missing too…” 

“Do they know you’re here?” 

She nods, “I think so… they don’t really care where I am as long as I’m not being a sinner under their roof.” 

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” Steve gets it right away. “Did you tell them or did they find out?” 

She downs her shot and coughs too, holding her chest with a grimace, “Ugh… I uh, I told them. I only wanted to tell them if I had something lined up after graduation, cause then it wouldn’t matter what they said… I could just leave. Eddie was my ticket out of there. I didn’t need a college to run to or a job to start, I saw him on the news and the reporter said he ran the dnd club and had a band and there were rumours he was queer and I knew if my mom didn’t support me that my dad might.” 

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, reaching out and laying his hand on her knee for a moment. He gives her a gentle pat and then reaches back to the bottle for another shot. 

She shrugs it off, pretending she’s fine. “It’s okay, I guess… I told Wayne last night and he was exactly as wonderful as I expected. So was Eddie…” 

“Obviously,” Steve says through the burn of the shot. “Even though Eddie’s never said the words out loud, to me, I know… and he knows I know. I assume he’s also told Wayne by now and even if he hasn’t, I remember Eddie told me one night that Wayne picked him up from a sleepover and he told him he was always going to love him no matter what… and that sleepover was the first time he thought about wanting to kiss another boy and it was like Wayne always knew… like maybe he saw himself in Eddie.”

“Yeah, I think that’s right… and you know about his boyfriend, right? It was Robins theory but—” 

“Oh, no, I know!” Steve lights right up at that, “It is Mr. Clarke isn’t it?

“He told me and Eddie last night at dinner, and we met him, he’s adorable with Wayne,” Roxy beams, “did Eddie tell you anything about last night?” 

Steve shakes his head, his face goes glum again, “No, it’s been radio silence since the party… he didn’t even come into the store these last 2 days.” 

“He was busy with Nancy yesterday, she helped him get two copies of adult adoption papers so that Wayne can be both of our dads, he didn’t know that my mom put Wayne on my birth certificate, so I didn’t need a copy, it was just nice that he thought of me,” Roxy looks genuinely happy. She found her place in the world and it’s working out for her. 

“So Wayne’s his dad now?” 

Roxy nods, “They both signed it so, I think so, yeah.” 

“Why didn’t he tell me?” 

“He thinks you’re not into him like that,” she’s brutally honest. “He also called dibs on you last night… I mean not in those words, but he did tell me I better not string you along and leave him with your tangled mess. It was kinda poetic…” 

Steve groans, “Oh god, he thinks I’m a mess?” 

“No, he just can’t deal with you pining over someone else when he loves you so much,” she lets it slip and her eyes go wide. She quickly covers her mouth then, “I wasn’t supposed to say that.” 

The alcohol must’ve hit them both at the same time, making her slip up… Steve feels it in his face and in his ears, everything is hot and his heartbeat is loud. It gets more intense as her words settle in. Eddie loves him. 

“He loves me?” Steve repeats. 

“Of course he does?” She leans right into it. “Wayne told me about Eddie’s history with this place, that’s why you offered to drive me home instead…” 

Steve nods, “he doesn’t need any added pain, he’s been through enough.” 

“How was he not supposed to fall in love with you?” Roxy can’t help but laugh, “you’d take a bullet for him, wouldn’t you?” 

“You have no idea… really… none at all.” 

“No, but he does,” she moves the focus right back to Eddie’s love for him. “From his little speech last night, I know his mom died and his dad abandoned him and for a long time it was only Wayne that he could depend on… he wants someone to make the conscious decision and pick him regardless of what’s going on. He wants someone who’s going to stay with him forever and that’s you, Stevie.” 

Steve doesn’t know what to say, he stares down at his hands and twiddles his thumbs, pulling at a hangnail real quick… he wants that too but it’s scary. Everything changes if he admits his feelings and they date. Every single aspect of his life changes. It’s so overwhelming he starts to cry, pinching the bridge of his nose, he turns away from her so she won’t see it. But she hears it. He lets out a choked sob, he covers his whole face in shame and loses it. 

“Steve,” she moves in closer and wraps her arm around him to rub his back, she shushes him in a soothing tone, “it’s okay, breathe, you’re okay.” 

“I want that…” he says through the tears. “I just… I can’t— I can’t love him quietly. You know?” 

She knows a bit too well. “I know.” 

“My dad’ll kill me,” he tries so hard not to sob, biting his lip so it won’t wobble. 

“Can I be honest?” 

He just nods, scared but he wants to hear it. 

“I met your parents on Friday night—

“No?” 

“Hopper and Joyce love you like family. Robin is your sister, Dustin loves you like a brother, those other kids look up to you and even your ex-girlfriend still loves having you in her life,” Roxy recounts, she saw the way everyone treated each other. She noticed how much of a family they are. 

Steve knows she’s right but it’s easier said than done. 

“I told them at my graduation dinner, right after the cake… they asked me when I was going to get a boyfriend and settle down if I wasn’t going to go to school and I said never, cause I’m a lesbian,” she stops to stare off at the wall, taking a few breaths with her tongue caught between her teeth. “They uh, they were quiet and then my mom lost it.” 

Steve doesn’t know what to say, he goes to say he’s sorry but she cuts him off. 

“It wasn’t ‘you’re going to hell’ or ‘you’re a sinner’ or anything I expected. She was mad because my grandma never let her boyfriends move in—not after what happened…”

“God, I’m sorry,” Steve can’t believe it.

“She said I can’t be gay cause I was always leading her boyfriends on and if I am then she wasted the last few years being single and not having dudes over just because of me… like it’s somehow my fault all the men she loved were fucking creeps?” Roxy can’t help but rant, it just falls out of her. “She was always a bitch, she never gave a single fuck about my feelings and it’s not like she was around that much so it shouldn’t hurt this bad but—

“No, I get it… my parents are nowhere near the best parents in Hawkins like they barely crack the top 1000, but the idea of them unloading all the shit I’ve heard them say about other gay people onto me is going to kill me, if he doesn’t,” Steve empathizes. “And I can’t get an apartment, I’ve only been working this last year and it’s not like I have a trust fund or life savings, if they find out I have to find a way to live on $6.50 an hour.” 

“You could move in here,” she offers, “we could split the rent?” 

“Then Eddie won’t come over,” he reminds her. “I’d be doing all this for him… none of the other dudes I’ve had crushes on were ever worth coming out for.” 

“You know, Wayne’s not going to let you go homeless either… everyone in your life will offer to take you in if your parents kick you out.” 

“The last thing I want is to feel like a burden on everyone,” he admits, reaching for the vodka again, he takes a swig right from the bottle this time. 

“Ew, gross,” she snatches the bottle back from him. “If you want to go crazy, I’ll get you a bigger glass.” 

She stands up and her eyes go wide as her balance gets thrown, “fuck, okay, I’m good.” 

“Do you get drunk often?” Steve asks, watching her walk back over to her tiny kitchen. 

“Uhhhh… I tend to drink alone,” she admits as she returns with two regular glass cups. She sets them down and pours at least 3 shots into Steve's glass, less in her own. “I’ve never been invited to a house party or had friends that wanted to come over…”

“In my experience, there’s never a guest list for house parties, you can just show up,” Steve knows from experience. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten an explicit invitation…” 

“So you’re a partier and a flirt…”

“Some would say I’m a slut,” he picks up his glass and gives her a cheers. “Robin, specifically, used to call me a slut, actually.” 

“Used to?” 

He just nods, pouring his Mountain Dew into the vodka so it’s easier to down quickly. “I’m going through a dry spell.” 

“It’s only a dry spell if you’re trying to get dates,” she calls him out, guessing that he’s been too hung up on Eddie to really make a move on someone else. 

And she’d be right. 

“At first it was just cause I was busy taking care of everyone and everything… me and Eddie were in the hospital for a few days and Dustin sprained his ankle, that took a while to heal and you should see how he gets when he’s even slightly sick or sore, he’s a total baby,” Steve complains but he clearly loves it. “And then we went back to work and Robin started seeing Vickie and having her sleepovers so I kept going to see Eddie and it just became so routine, I mean, I have a toothbrush in his bathroom and his clothes are in my drawers…”

“How long have you known?” 

“That I love him or?” 

“I’ve known that I like girls since I was 5 and I discovered the bra section in the Macy’s Christmas catalogue,” Roxy can’t help but smile, it’s just the tiniest bit embarrassing. “It made my heart race and a part of me felt a little shameful but, they’re just so pretty and they looked so soft… and I’ve never felt that way about a boy. Sure, you’re cute, and Argyle was handsome and I can see why Nancy likes Johnathan… but Robin, oh my god?” She sighs, tipping her head back, and staring up at the ceiling. “She’s so pretty.” 

Steve just laughs, “Yeah, I thought I was in love with her for about 3 days last year… It turns out I have a hard time differentiating between romantic love and platonic love at first.” 

“But you know how you love Eddie?” 

“Pretty terrifyingly positive,” Steve admits, sipping on his drink, he holds it close to his chest like a hug and stares off at her wall. “I thought I just wanted to kiss him, at first, something about watching him talk made my heart feel like a magnet and I kept getting closer and closer and I wanted him to devour me with those lips… he kissed me in his sleep once. He rolled over and wrapped his arm around me, he kissed the back of my neck and snuggled in and— and thats when it all hit me.” 

“And you’ve never told anyone that before?” Roxy can’t believe it, not even Robin has heard this before and she can tell from the look on his face. 

“It’s nice having someone to talk to who doesn’t know anything about me. And it’s even nicer that you feel so much like home,” he smiles at her, his shoulders drop and all the tension in his system disappears. “You have no idea who I am, what I’ve done… he knows everything.”

“You need to talk to him,” Roxy says with a sigh, she can’t say anything more. Eddie wanted to be the first one to tell Steve he really loved him, Roxy couldn’t take that from him. “Do you want to use my phone? You need to talk to him.” 

“No, no, no,” Steve shakes his head, waving one of his hands. “No, I’m not saying it on the phone, I have to go see him.” 

“You can’t drive?!” she reminds him, her voice getting a bit louder than she expected. “Seriously, Steve.” 

“So, I’ll walk,” he goes to stand but he’s a bit wobbly. He’s had a quarter of the bottle and all he ate today was dinner. 

“No,” she reaches out for his hand. “I’ll call him, he’ll come get you. He’s not afraid to come here, especially not if it’s for you.” 

“Fine,” Steve slams himself back down onto the couch, “but we’re waiting outside for him…” 

“Okay,” Roxy agrees, heading over to the phone on the wall. She hasn’t had to make a call yet, she really hoped it worked. 

Wayne’s number is on a piece of paper taped to the wall, she put it there for when she’d eventually need it and thank god… she was a little too tipsy to dig through all her shit looking for it now. She dials the number quickly, she holds the receiver to her ear and she waits… and waits… but nothing. 

“I don’t think he’s home?” 

“Ah, fuck,” Steve’s head slumps forward with a sigh, he waits just a second and then tugs himself back up to his feet. “555-2744, thats Robins, he goes to her when I’m busy.” 

He watches Roxy dial the new number and wait again, only this time she gets an answer. “Hey, Robin? It’s Roxy. Yeah, hi…” she gets all smiley, “I’m good, how are you?” 

“Hey,” Steve shoves her. “Ask about Eddie.” 

“Is Eddie with you?— He is? Can he come pick up Steve? We got drunk and he wants to go home,” Roxy explains, nodding along and then she hangs up. “They’re on their way.” 

—

They’re sitting outside on the bench when Eddie pulls up in his van, he throws 'er in park and jumps out just as quickly as Robin. “Is he okay?” She asks first, also reaching Steve first. 

“I’m fine,” he pushes Robin's hand off his arm, drunker now since he chugged the rest of his drink. “I wanna go home…” 

“I’ll take you home,” Eddie smiles softly, not expecting Steve to stand and throw himself at him. But he does. Eddie catches him with an “Oof, okay, big fella.” 

“Just you,” he whispers. “Only wanna go home with you.” 

Eddie just holds him, “okay… Robs, can you stay here with Roxy and make sure she doesn’t get drunker without anyone around?” 

Robin nods, turning to Roxy, “What got into you two? This was a date, was it not?” 

“Nooo!” Both Roxy and Steve turn to her to assure her, hands raised and both mildly disgusted. 

“Okay, damn,” she looks back at Steve, unable to read him when he’s drunk, “you be good for Eddie, don’t start running on him like you do with me.” 

“That was one time,” Steve points, squinting, he can barely hold himself up, luckily Eddie is there. “I’m fine… I just wanted my Eddie.” 

“Well, you got me,” Eddie can’t help but smile. “Come on, let’s get you in the van… goodnight ladies, call me in the morning?” 

“I will,” Robin smiles back. “Take care of him, he’s one of a kind.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” 

“Shh,” Steve covers his mouth, “don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” 

Eddie laughs, turning him towards the van and helping him into the passenger seat. He helps him with his seatbelt and takes a leap of faith… he kisses Steve on the forehead quickly, “Stay put, I’m just running around to the driver's side, okay?” 

Steve grabs his arm and holds him there, staring into his eyes, pouting slightly. “Don’t be long? I always miss you…” 

“I won’t,” Eddie assures him, pulling away and shutting the door. He turns back to the girls, who are watching intently. “See ya.” 

“Bye,” they wave in tandem. 

He rushes around to his side and hops in quickly, “see, I’m speedy.” 

“Mhm,” Steve closes his eyes and leans back against the headrest, slightly turning towards Eddie. 

He starts the van and pulls out into the street carefully, heading back towards Steve's place… it was always weird to think they lived so close, the trailer park and Kerley were only separated by a farmer's field. It would take 10 minutes to walk. They shared the same bus all through school for crying out loud. 

The drive is quiet, Eddie almost thinks Steve is asleep until he speaks. “You missed the turn?”

“I’m going to your house?” 

“No, I wanted to go home,” Steve whines. 

Eddie’s heart swells as he takes a deep breath, realizing that Steve means the trailer. 

His house isn’t his home. 

Eddie is. 

[emptykomets]

Hello.

So, I've thinking of creating a blog to recreate that old internet magic on (I was in the process of finding a fitting theme but Tumblr doesn't direct me to the 'change appearence' page for some reason). Perhaps I'm on a quarter-life crisis right now. I never had the courage to make a blog myself but maybe this could be a fun way to journal, relive my memories about my internet life, and try blogging. It's been ages since I've visited Tumblr and I only owned a private blog that mainly consisted of reblogged aesthetic pictures that I liked, haha. If this blog remains a secret only I know of, that would be completely fine. If someone else is reading this, then uh... I hope that your stay is somewhat interesting! (´ ∀ ` ) ♪ I'll post more when I have more time.

[gloomstudy]

april 20, 2022 - take care

the past few weeks haven’t been so great for me. i keep having setback after setback. what is the universe trying to tell me? i’m not sure, but i’m slowly trying my best to pull myself out of this and get better.

here’s something i drew the other day: a gentle reminder, for both you and me, to take beary good care of yourself! be safe and have a good day~ 🐻💕✨

studygram: gloomium

currently listening to: “car crash” - eaj

[provisionalsparkle]

The Boy Next Door

Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

[Genre] exes-to-lovers au, smut, angst.

[Word count] 6.7K

[Warnings] Smut. Angst. Unprotected sex, voyeurism, ample description of bodily fluids.

[Note] This is my contribution to @feliix ’s Summer 2 Lovers collab! Check it out!

Summer.

The season of fun and sun, careless joy, long days and warm nights…

For most people.

For you, this summer is about change. It’s about the little town you used to live in, the quaint house you grew up in, the smell of your mother’s cooking or the breeze from the yard, the sound of younger kids playing in the street. It’s about the big city you will go to live in, it’s purple and orange twilight skies, black silhouettes reaching toward the skies beginning to twinkle with golden lights, the noises of the traffic coming from evening bustle, the scent of the delis and restaurants that line the streets.

You were stuck between these two places, university having been a four year long limbo of boundless sex mislabeled as self-discovery, and now visit your home one last time, reminding yourself of the life you had there before moving on to another.

You think of the past with nostalgia, yet also with a restlessness that makes you want to run from everything. The stillness, the silence, the unchanging landscape in this little town is too unbearable, too unsettling. But it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. The life you’ll soon live promises excitement, autonomy, it’s the adulthood you’ve fantasized about. It terrifies you too, and you have these horrible dreams about missing the payment of the most insignificant bill and having the entire world collapse on you because of it. You still don’t know how to do your taxes.

College is over, a new life awaits you in a big city after landing a rather ideal job, but it felt like you were leaving things behind. Funny how, after so many years of fantasizing about this grown-up life you suddenly felt like a lost child, scared to forgo the familiar.

It’s these sort of almost-quarter-life-crisis thoughts that fill your mind on a particularly warm afternoon. You’re indecently splayed out on a couch with as little clothing as possible, the door to the backyard is wide open, letting an occasional breeze waft in to disrupt the stifling stillness of the heat. The lights are off, and you were too unbothered to turn them on as the sun set, preferring to stare at a darkening ceiling as the evening sky turned purple.

There’s a familiar jingle of keys from the front door.

“Honey? You home?”

“I’m here, Mom.” You lazily answer back. She wanders from the hall to the living room, you can feel the judgemental look she gives you.

“Have you been laying like this all day?”, indignation lines her voice. Was it so surprising to find you like this?

“Yeah…”

“You can’t just lay here all day. Go out! Get some sun! Go play with those kids you used to hang out with from school!”

“I can’t Ma, I’d rather just plank here.”

“Oh goodness, Y/n. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t go hang out with them!”

“I’ll give you two: either they grew up to be total bitches or they had kids and became a bore.”

“I didn’t become a bore when I had you!” She exclaims, although it’s not too serious and some playfulness hides beneath the surface.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a cool mom. They don’t make those anymore.”

“Hmm… well, I think you should make a bit of an effort.”

“Mom… it’s my last vacation you know -”

“You know what?!” She suddenly exclaims, her voice brightening like a lightbulb just radiated in her thoughts. “Mrs. Carson’s son is here with her for the summer too! I bet you haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s gotten so handsome.”

“Mrs. Carson?” You didn’t have any clue who that was.

“Well… you might remember her as Mrs. Bang, but Jane changed her name when she married Norbert a few years ago. She still lives next door and Christopher’s in town spending the summer with his mother.”

Bang…

Christopher…

You hadn’t heard that name in years. It surprised you a bit actually, and a hint of a smile came to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom… I’ll think about it.”

You wouldn’t admit… something did grab your attention. A curiosity of sorts.

You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. He was a short boy with a kind smile, a bit awkward really, but you had a fondness for him. It wasn’t about looks at all, all boys at that age were hideous and nothing would change your opinion on that, but you’d swoon whenever you saw him. It was mutual, an icky teenage infatuation that had your friends poking fun at both of you whenever you’d become giddy at the sight of one another. Hot faces, nervous glances, trembling innocent touches.

He sat next to you in chemistry and you’d hold hands under the lab table while the teacher gave class. His left hand always felt soft in your right one. Cute. It’s a bit silly but you’re glad you had that sort of adorable and silly romance. While it lasted, that is.

Christopher wasn’t a bad guy. He was stupid, like all boys that age.

When you saw him kissing another girl, of course you cried, but you knew it had to do with him being stupid more than anything. This simple looking girl that you had been friends with in elementary school, you can’t even remember her name.

You know why he did it, beyond his stupidity. Your mom had let it slip long before - you knew it was coming.

“Honey, would you believe? Mr. and Mrs. Bang are divorcing!” Probably just some hot gossip from one of her PTA yoga groups, no ill intention on your behalf. She didn’t know you were seeing Christopher - over your dead body. You were fifteen and a horrible student, you didn’t need to give your mother yet another element to ground you with.

“Oh no…” You acted as normally as you could, your first thoughts went out to Christopher first though. “Do you know why?”

“Well… I’m obviously not going to ask, duh! But I do know that Mr. Bang is taking the kid with him abroad.” What?! What did she just say? Chis is WHAT?!

“I - uh, what?” Act normal, act normal, act normal.

“Aww… sweetie, was he your friend?” Goodness, parents can be so oblivious, but it’s beneficial in this case. She doesn’t pick up on the depression of your mood.

“I guess.” A sniffle is about to threaten your composure so, in your teenage arrogance, you leave before your mother can see your teary eyes.

The subsequent days were strange. You expected Christopher to tell you the news, you expected to comfort him, you expected to live out the rest of your young romance as best as you could. And then… you saw him.

And he said nothing. He was cold, pushed you away. He must be going through a lot of pain, you thought. More days went by and he still said nothing, and his demeanor grew worse, no affection, no smiles. He must be having a hard time, you reasoned.

Sometimes you thought he was on the verge of saying something to you, like he was about to say something and the words threatened to come out but he’d suddenly pull away and swallow them. You didn’t question it really, it was so confusing but you just went with it.

You never held his hand in chemistry again.

Time made you realize that Christopher didn’t want to be with you anymore. You weren’t sure if it was because he stopped liking you, and that hurt a little, but you knew what he was going through, and you stood by him in case he ever chose to open up and cry on your shoulder. You’d be there for him.

When he kissed that girl, it didn’t really surprise you. Damn it, what was her name? You cried, you thought it was because you were ugly and your boobs were still pretty small - stupid reasons.

It took a few months for you to understand the real reason.

He left without saying goodbye. You never spoke to him after he kissed what’s-her-name. Maybe he tried to do so a couple of times, but you ran away or didn’t let him. Or maybe you remembered it that way to comfort you, just so you’d live with the thought that he tried to apologize, tired to make things right.

But the fact of the matter is he didn’t speak to you and he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to say goodbye because it hurt.

He was trying to ruin your relationship so you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, so that he could kill the feelings you had for him to spare you from the pain of his departure.

Or maybe you were just imagining it like that to make it a cuter memory and think about it fondly.

Maybe in the end, Christopher was just a horny teenage boy that cheated on you. Maybe.

Regardless, you giggle as you think back on the silliness of it all, and how serious and life altering it all felt in your childishness. It seemed so long ago, so distant, and you were so changed that it felt like it had all happened to a different person. You wondered about the man next door, and the entirely different boy who had once been next door. What kind of person had Christopher become?

University did you well. It was four solid years of irresponsible drinking and uninhibited sexual exploration paired with relatively easy academics. You don’t know how it happened, but it had been like a transformation from one day to the next.

You, sort of, kind of, absolutely plain and normal girl that no one would notice lest you stepped in their line of sight. One day, there you were - normal.

Two weeks in - boom. Confident. Your roommate was an okayish girl, another plain one. Then you started noticing how comfortable you were undressing in front of her, to change clothes or whatever, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - which it was. Wearing shorts and skirts became less of a worry, just something that felt better. Sometimes you’d be thrown icky glances from some boys, which you hated, but others were acceptably flirty and you loved those. The best ones were the boys that would get shy and who would quickly whip their heads the other way once you caught them staring.

That definitely flipped the switch. It made you feel strong, it made you feel damn good. You, who at the most had dipped a finger into the world of heavy makeouts during high school, now became a seasoned seductress of all kinds of men. So long as you could wrap them around your finger with your demeanor, so long as you could prowl over them and take the lead.

Ah… the good old days.

What was going to happen now, though? Four years later, no slightly inexperienced men left to be wowed. Everyone you knew was turning into a bland and bitter office worker. Was this the end of it?

To think that you’d be ending this glorious chapter of your life in this tiny town, lounging on the same stuffy couch in the same hot living room every day, having your routine philosophical melodrama where you’d stare at the ceiling in the afternoons until your mother came in inquiring if you were alive. It was a terrible fate.

A few days after the revelation of Christopher’s presence, which you would never admit had been circling your mind nonstop, your mother returns with another piece of information.

“You know, Jane and Norbert are having a get together of sorts next Saturday - just the usuals from the block.”

“Is that so?” You said with disinterest.

“In fact, I borrowed a baking pan from her last week… why don’t you go over and give it back to her for me? She might need it, and you probably haven’t left this house in days.” You didn’t reply, but you could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to obey.

“Fine…”

The afternoon was enjoyably fresh, although your white t-shirt stuck to you like a second skin, the bikini top you wore underneath tracing its silhouette into the cotton. You lazily stomped your way to the house next door, admiring the tall window where you had snuck into Christopher’s room a couple of times during your short romance. A ladder was perched up against the exterior toward that window, they must have been fixing things up. The porch was full of cans of paint, tools, boxes. It was only when you rang on the doorbell, begrudgingly holding the large tray, that you realized that Jane might not be the one to open the door but instead it could be -

The door swings open and you gasp. Christopher.

Well… his face hadn’t changed much. But he was slightly taller than you remembered, far more masculine, oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, he was shirtless… jeans hanging low on his hips… shirtless… abs… fit waist… arms…

“Hi! Is Jane home?” Good… pretend you don’t remember him.

“I - Uh… no, my mom’s actually out right now.” He replied. His voice had grown deeper, and where did he get that accent? Wait - did he not remember you? Now, that just made you angry, but you wouldn’t let it show.

“Oh, well… my mother wanted me to return this.” You say handing him the tray, avoiding trailing your eyes downward.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll give it to her.” He says. He seems a little frozen, an expression between surprise and caution lingers on his face, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.

There’s a moment of silence where you just stare at each other.

“Y/n…” He finally says. There’s hesitation in the way he says your name. He’s scared, not of you, but he’s scared about the fact that you’re on his doorstep.

You don’t say anything, calmly, almost coyly, waiting for him to continue. You’d gotten rather good at pretending you were calm, and the slightest tint of a smile painted your lips so you wouldn’t seem cold or ingenuine.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. You can’t help but huff, a tiny laughter really.

“Of course. You know, you haven’t grown much taller.”

With those slightly playful words, you turn to walk back to your home, and with each step your impression of the encounter with your childhood love became more bitter and less sweet.

It was strange how you thought about him, about it. The situation, that is. Seeing him, talking to him, both of you now being older. A few days of thinking now.

You don’t know why you thought about it so much, but you thought about it. You thought about it without knowing how you felt about it or what you thought about it. This man you had only gotten a glimpse of, too overwhelmed to take in his features properly, now walks around your mind freely. He wasn’t the boy you knew. He wasn’t the boy next door whose hand you’d once hold in chemistry, who you’d kiss before turning the corner towards both of your homes. The boy who left all those years ago.

No, it wasn’t that boy. It was that man, who kept perturbing you. What did you feel? Interest? Yes, there was something quite intriguing about all of this which sparked your curiosity. Lust? Of course, absolutely, the man next door looked divine. Suppose you could abstract the person from his body, so that you wouldn’t be so bothered by who he was and what he meant to you, and you’d easily bend over in front of him and invite him in.

You supposed a conversation was in place, though, because after all, he was still the Christopher. You couldn’t just go around fucking people like that anymore - unfortunately. That was something you got away with in college. It’s a shame college boys grow up to be boring men, sex gets more boring, they think they have all the authority… Maybe you should go back to school.

You’re sitting on the windowsill of your second floor bedroom, one leg hanging out and stepping onto the roof. Opposite to your window, beyond a neat shrub, is the window of the guest room of Mrs. Carson, formerly Bang, which seems unchanged from when you last saw it. You remember watching her from your room, also unchanged, using the TV in there to do some aerobics she followed along from a VHS… was it a VHS? No, that’s the machine. What were the things you used to put in the VHS? A cassette? No… regardless, eventually she must have started using DVD’s.

Damn it, it all seemed like thousands of years ago.

Damn it, you were still so melodramatic throwing around words like poetry over some Richard Simmons tape. Aha! It’s a tape!

Your crotch is being dug into by the window frame, and you let your weight rest on it, the slight grind tempting you to have a round of masturbation. But you’ll finish the cigarette you stole from your mother first. It tasted awful, it was another adult thing you couldn’t understand. Why did everyone at university smoke so much? It was just another thing their eager teenage selves did to emulate the adults in grown-up world, to feel a little more grown-up. Who the hell likes this stuff?

But you liked watching it burn, occasionally inhaling its airy and bitter smoke. It wasn’t your preferred type of smore. You preferred watching papers and matches burn, their sweet and rich smell, the warmth of the fire that would sting the edges of your fingers. Shame your mother only used a lighter, you didn’t like the smell of that fire either.

You just surrendered to watching the bright tip of the cigarette and the white streams that came from it.

“You know those are bad for you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaimed, your heart nearly jumping out from your chest. A man had sprung out from the window in the guest room of the Carson house, formerly Bang, and that man was Christopher Bang himself.

“Sorry I didn’t -”

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack - what the hell?!”

“ - mean to startle you…”

“Damn it, Christopher!”

“Ah! So you do remember me?” He says with a bit of joy, but you just look at him, realizing that this is where the talk will come. His features grow a little more somber. He continues, “So… I guess I -”

“Where’d you get the accent?” You interrupt, genuinely curious. “You sound like the crocodile hunter.”

“Well… I was living in Australia with my dad.” He says it in a normal tone, but you make sure it doesn’t stay normal.

“Oh, so that’s where you went?” You both wince at what you just said. Yep, it’s finally time for that talk.

There’s a bit of silence, but you’ll let him be the one to fill it.

“I…” He sighs deeply. Uuhh… it’s quite a masculine sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to say.”

“I’m listening…” You say. It’s a flat tone, but it’s funny. You hope it’ll ease him.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Some silence again, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry for cheating on you -”

“Chris, we were like fifteen… you kissed a girl with braces, big deal.” You waved it off. Really, kissing that girl didn’t bother you so much, now almost ten years later.

“I left without saying anything.”

“Yeah, you did. Hard to not notice.”

“I was - I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through a lot and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you left without saying anything?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok… we haven’t spoken in years. I practically forgot about it.” No you didn’t.

“Did you?” He says. Was he hopeful when you insinuated he hadn’t hurt you as much as he thought he had?

“No, not really. I mean, yeah, you kissing another girl was pretty insignificant, we were just kids. It did hurt that you left without… I don’t know… There wasn’t any closure. There wasn’t a goodbye. I felt confused for a while, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry about that. But my parents were splitting up, I was going to have to leave everything behind. You were the first girl I loved and I was going to have to say goodbye and I couldn’t handle it. I was too hurt and embarrassed to even tell my friends. I wish I had done it differently.”

“Yeah, I wish you had too. I wanted to be there for you, you know? I wanted to hug you, hold your hand, tell you it was going to be ok.

“I really messed up there…”

“It’s okay Chris, you were just a kid. We were just kids.” You offer your sympathy but he doesn’t soften.

“Mhmm. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about it.”

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, “Did you do all that stuff… you know, treat me that way, for real or where you…?”

“I was hoping you’d break up with me, get over me. That way we wouldn’t have to say goodbye and we wouldn’t get hurt.”

“I got hurt.” You admit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You insist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re old and grown and fine. All of that’s in the past, I can’t blame you for acting like a kid. It’s okay.”

“Well I can agree with you there. We did grow up, not kids anymore.”

“You didn’t grow that much.” You laugh, he laughs too.

“You certainly did.” He’s being flirty. It could have been bad timing, but the mood felt right.

“Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to.” Goodness was he being direct. “You were really cute back in school, I had a crush on you for like, forever.”

“Really…Plain old me?”

“Really. And now here we are and I think I could have a crush on you all over again.”

“So you can go off and kiss another girl with braces and leave the continent?”

“No, I’m a one woman man.” He says while making himself comfortable on his own ledge. It’s getting comfortable overall, like you’re talking to someone you’ve known for the longest time, like a decade of separation didn’t do much harm.

“Well, well. And who is that lucky woman now?”

“There’s no one at the moment. I’m in the middle of some life changes.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m moving back. Well, not here, just in the country again. A big city, big job, kinda scary.”

“Seems we’re on the same boat. I just came back to say goodbye to this place forever and I’m ooout.”

“Did you finish school already?”

“Yeah… I wish I hadn’t though.” You think back on your experience with longing, lamenting it’s end.

“Wow, can’t relate. I couldn’t wait for it to end. What’d you miss about it?”

“Well, I didn’t have to work, grades were good and easy. And I guess, it was tons of fun.”

“How so?”

“Being on a campus full of horny and stupid guys - it was open game.” Chan hisses at your admission.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.” He chuckles, “You would stutter for like the first two months we went out.”

“We were just kids.”

“I guess we were…”

Another comfortable silence as you stare off at the sky, your cigarette burnt through with only the spongy bud left to pinch.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m single too, you know.”

It might have been a bad idea, you said it on impulse after all, something quite instinctive having taken over you. Maybe you were just horny and Christopher was just hot, regardless, the conversation was over. Before he could even process what you said, and the implications to it, you had already slipped back into your darkened room and out of his sight.

Chan felt like a teenager again. Not in a good way.

Chan remembered your first kiss, holding your hand. He remembered your breasts being the first he had ever really noticed, your legs being the first he ever caressed. He remembers how you’d press your bodies together while you kissed, not really understanding what both of you felt, only understanding the urgency of it.

Now he can name those feelings, the ones that once belonged to an inexperienced boy, merely dipping his toes into the surface of that world. But now that he dove, and had dived into its waters several times, he knew how to swim in them.

Yet, seeing you made him feel like he didn’t. It made him feel like he couldn’t swim, like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning.

The first moment he saw you on his doorstep he felt his stomach drop, a pang of guilt that had lingered on his mind during countless of sleepless nights hitting him with full force. He didn’t expect it. He thought he would never see you again.

And after taking another look, a longer look, it was like he was swimming in completely different waters. He felt submerged, and he didn’t know which way was up. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow it all up, let you drown him.

He hadn’t felt this raging feeling since he was a teenager. He certainly hadn’t had a specific woman make him feel like this until you.

It made him feel another kind of guilt. Shame even.

The following days he’d watch you, shamefully. His mother had him painting the house and when he stood on the rooftops he took his time to enjoy the view of you swimming in your pool, wearing tiny bikinis that stuck to your skin and showed the buds of your niples and the lines of your labia through the fabric. He would admit, shamefully, that he stopped watching from the roof because he needed to get closer to see these beautiful details.

He now watched you from over the fence in his backyard. Getting incredibly hard watching you swim, watching you oil your body down.

It was all horribly, horribly shameful.

But weren’t you the one that mentioned you were single? It had caught him off guard. He was being cheeky in that moment, but he didn’t know what waters he was testing then. Now he knew, and it was making him behave so, so shamefully.

Should he go over there, push you into a corner of the pool and pull your bottoms to the side? Should he kneel at your feet while your rubbing yourself with that golden oil, and beg you to let him fuck you?

It wasn’t just the thought of sex that drove him mad, it was you in general. How inferior he felt in front of you, like he had to prove himself. Every day he worked shirtless, hoping you’d get a glimpse of him, but you were just so unbothered by it all.

It was driving him fucking insane.

If only you knew.

Except - of course you did. Of course you did. This is what you craved, what you were best at. Driving boys, technically men but boys sounds tastier, to be absolute slaves to their desire for you. Christopher wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. Did he really think that you would suddenly spend every day swimming in the tiniest bikinis after having not left your couch for over a week? They really are such stupid, fuckable animals.

And Chris was particularly fuckable.

Day four of his perverted project, he was hammering away at some boards in the back porch of his house. Your mother wouldn’t be home for hours, his parents were away for a couple of days.

Everything was perfect.

“Chris?!” You call loudly over the fence from your chaise lounge, carelessly flipping through a book. The hammering stopped, he had heard you. “Chris, it’s hot today. Don’t you think you should come over for a swim to cool down?”

Why on earth were you acting so damn unbothered and confident, he thought. Why on earth were you asking him over?

It’s only a matter of time before he circles his own house and slides in through the gate on your end. He’s still wearing jeans and a utility belt, gloves too. No shirt.

“You can’t really swim in those, take them off.” You hardly peered at him from over your sunglasses. He was just standing there, frozen. That’s usually a sign that you’re working your magic well. Good. “Come on Christopher, take them off.”

“I - uh, I’m actually not wearing trunks right now. Uhm… I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go.” Insert unbothered page flip. “Why don’t you just undress and get in the pool so I can join you?”

“W-what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He genuinely thought he had imagined it, maybe all of his hornyness was driving him insane.

“Christopher!” You whine. “You’re ruining the fun!” You slam the book shut and throw it over to the side, taking your sunglasses and hat off. “Chris, I think it’s obvious. Do you think I haven’t noticed you being a peeping tom for the past half week? Look! You’ve already got a tent in your pants and everything!”

“Fuck.” Shit, you were right.

“This is like, hmm, like an open invitation to fuck me.” You say with an eye roll, but your eyes roll toward his abs because they are absolutely distracting you.

“Are… are you serious?”

“Well… You want to, I want to. You’re nice, look like you’ve become quite a decent man - and I’m not just referring to your physique Chris. Maybe, just maybe, it would be an excellent idea if we finally fucked this tension away.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You’re here for a few weeks, so am I. Why not enjoy each other while we can? After that we can just go our separate ways, just like before except we’ll end it on good terms.”

Too many points for him to argue with - you were right on all of them. He couldn’t disagree. In fact, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know you had this pitch rehearsed to perfection, to your benefit, because he seemed to be completely subdued by it.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. Fumbling with his belt, zipper, exposing the line of his abdomen down to his hardening cock. A fat, heavy cock that swung between his muscular thighs. He was fully nude now, standing in front of you, his tan skin glistening in the sunlight. You’re quick to urge him over with a finger.

He pounces, but once he’s crawling over you on that narrow chair, he becomes slow.

“Hi.” You manage to whimper out, now feeling a bit small beneath him, feeling nervous even.

“Hey.” He’s just as nervous but there’s an energy that goes beyond either of your wills pulling you toward one another.

He kisses you. It’s a kiss you melt into, and he sinks his body against yours, with you spreading your legs so he can slot between them. His cock rests against your lower abdomen, his body pressing further into you.

You can’t help but slide your hand between your two bodies in an attempt to finger yourself, prepare yourself, but he stops you and pulls back.

“No.” He growls.

“No?” Is he going to leave you like this?!

“Let me.”

And you do. Chan lowers himself, adjusting you so he can easily bend over the chair while kneeling on the ground, and his hands shake as he dips the tip of his fingers into the hem of your bottoms, just slightly tugging at the material, playing with it before he starts to play with you. You’ve got the perfect view of him basically drooling over you.

He slides the bottoms to the side, but you pull at the strings at your hips, so they come undone and he pulls them away completely. Your lips and the juices coming from between them are just as glossy than your oiled skin.

He can’t help but dig in. Fucking you with his mouth, jamming his fingers in you. It’s an animalistic frenzy and it’s hot and slippery and sticky. You cum and your fluids spill over the impermeable cushion below, pooling under your ass. He can see every sparkling droplet fall from you.

It’s just a haze, he nearly jumps on you, bending your legs nearly over your head, bouncing his pelvis on your cunt like a trampoline, smacking with every thrust. You’re completely glued to one another. If he’s not abusing your mouth with his tongue then he’s biting on your shoulder or grunting, growling, into your ear. It’s filthy. You’re absolutely sure you’ve never been fucked like this.

He cums, several times, as do you. He pulls out each time, jerks himself off on your body, although a couple of times you urged him into your mouth and face. He pulls the triangles on your top to the sides, so your breasts are exposed. He made sure to cum on those too. Semen, sweat, squirt, oil, spit, everywhere there are droplets of your fluids shining on your body like jewels.

It ends with him lying on top of you, nearly sleeping from exhaustion, and your lips feel deliciously sore and sensitive, almost ticklish as he softens inside of you.

It happens again. Several times in fact. Many, many times. When his parents are away, when your mom is away, you fuck all the time. Just a little call of his name over the fence or from your window and he’d be running to you. You were too comfortable with one another to bother with formalities, it was like you’d never been separated. You’d wait for him on all fours, wet cunt on display for him to dive in, but he’d always greet you with a gentle kiss.

Fucking each others faces, drinking eachothers fluids. You even let him fuck you in the ass, multiple times, and he was the first guy to make you cum that way. You were just as hooked and as desperate as he was.

Things started to change though.

The welcoming kisses became longer, you’d talk between the rounds…

You’d fall asleep in his arms, or he in yours.

You’d fuck slowly, deeply, staring into each other’s eyes.

You’d talk to him, tell each other stories of all these years, asi if you had been together the entire time.

You’d smile as you made love, gently. You’d let him cum inside of you.

He’d hold your hand again. They were as soft and warm as you remembered.

You were holding his hand on one particular pink evening, your head resting on his heaving chest, teaching circles into his pecs and nipples. On your bed, in your quiet childhood room. It was a painful silence now. It had been weeks, weeks closer to your respective departure dates.

“I wish I had never left.” He eventually says. You don’t know what to say. “I wish we could have stayed like this for longer.”

“Maybe we would have broken up eventually, or left for college.” You ponder.

“Maybe I would have taken you to prom, or we would have had sex together for the first time…” He returns.

“On this bed? Hmm? With my cute school uniform?” You tease. “Yeah, maybe.”

“But I guess this is what was meant to be.” He sighs, as do you.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.

“What for?”

“I don’t know, I just feel bad. I started this and now we have to go our separate ways again.” You feel something sting in your eye. You can’t cry now.

“Shh…” He coos as he hears you sniffle and feels you twitch. It makes his heart ache like it did all those years ago when he left.

“I - I…” You cry. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go.”

He pulls you into his arms, crushing you in an embrace. Your eyes are closed but you feel the tears fall from his face, he’s crying too.

“I know… but what else can we do?”

There was nothing left to do, other than fuck the days away, crying, holding each other until it hurt. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have fallen in love with Christopher Bang this final summer.

You didn’t go with him to the airport. You didn’t want to say goodbye, you didn’t want to see where he was going.

But he did slip into your room that final night. You made love quietly, he kissed you as you cried.

He said it was the second time he loved you, and the second time he had to leave you.

It hurt much more this time around. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have gone next door.

Being in your house was unbearable once Chris wasn’t next door.

A week later, you’ve arrived at your new place. It had been a whirlwind and you stayed at a hotel the first couple of nights while your new furniture got brought in, most of your personal belongings only fitting in a couple of bags.

It’s kept you busy. That way you think about him a little less. Crying into pillows that have that certain ‘brand new’ smell isn’t quite as comforting as you’d expect. Everything seems unfamiliar, strange, artificial. Nothing here reminded you of him - it was for the best and you hated it.

The place is nice, bright. It’s on the third floor of a small apartment building, a couple of other doors beside yours in the hall. You go downstairs to grab a few packages that have arrived, carefully treading up the stairs in a kind of balancing act once they’re piled in your arms. It’s a choreography you can dance to with expertise, always denying any help from your neighbors.

However, you do fumble with the lock and handle once you’re at your door, holding the boxes up by pressing them against the door with your body as your hands blindly fumble with the keys, nothing but cardboard in your sight.

Nothing you can’t handle, until they start to slip.

“Woah, let me help you with that!” someone says behind you, and in your complicated state it’s a bit difficult to process what happens but the boxes are soon out of the way, said someone pulling them from you and freeing you.

And then you see him.

Him.

Your him.

He says your name and you’re too stunned to react. He’s in awe too. He drops your packages, and you’re certain some of them contain some makeup palettes but you don’t give a damn at the moment.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask, frozen in place.

“I… live in 304.” He says.

“You live in 304?” He nods. “You? You’re serious?” He nods again, eyes still wide.

You both stand there, processing it all. This can’t be real.

“I live in 302.” you manage to say, after some time. Your voice is weak, all the air has left your lungs. You shake.

“You do?” He asks. Now you nod.

This can’t be.

But he cups your face, holds it like you’re precious and delicate, he kisses you. It is real. You kiss him back, harder. Eventually you’re both clinging to one another, gripping each other’s clothes desperately.

“You live here.” He says, little tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You nod, the same tears coming to you.

“I do. Mm-hmm.” The sniffles you let out seem so sweet to him, he swoons with how happy you are to see him. Knowing you feel the same joy he does - it makes him feel complete.

“I live here too!” He cries, laughing, smiling, beautifully.

One more kiss, just to make sure it’s real. You pull him in and kiss him one more time.

It’s real.

[babyunwin]

❛ you have every right to be scared. ❜

@macabreatlas  /  fun.

                                   every now and then, after they close up the shop they sit out front and have a drink together while the sun goes down. it’s a small town, there’s not too much going on and she enjoys spending some quiet time with him. it’s always a good way to end the day. she’s small enough to be curled up on the plastic chair, half-empty bottle of beer in her hand. not entirely sure how they got there but if they continue like this, it’s going to be another one of their emotional talks. a huff follows his words then, she takes one more sip.  ❛  i’m not scared.  ❜  it sounds much too defensive to be true.  ❛  i mean, there’s nothing to be scared of, right  ?   i’m almost 26 and i’ve done nothing with my life. i ran away to the other side of the planet. i haven’t talked to my family in almost ten years. i’ve never had a proper relationship. i barely finished high school. i didn’t go to college, i have no fucking idea what to do with my life. like, i love you to death, dean but  …  am i gonna fix cars with you until i die  ?  is that all  ?  am i throwing my life away  ?  should i be doing more  ?  should i have done something different  ?  ❜

[librarianandguardian]

Just a feeling- Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Pairing : Saul Silva x Female!Reader

Word Count : ~2300

Warnings : Fluff, brief mention of drug use and burns

Music : Un homme - Jérémy Frerot

Author’s note : Getting pretty stressed because of a huge project at school, so I wrote this to blow off some steam ! I also wanted to say that I do not agree with the way some characters are written and treated in this show. I hope I did not perpetuate these errors, and that I got Silva’s personality a bit right at least. Feedback is appreciated, may it be on the story telling or even the grammar. English isn’t my first language. Flahs-backs in italics. Enjoy ! :D

GIF ‘s not mine, and I can’t find the creator.

French First World songs resonate in the Great Hall, she is dancing. Wild and free. Her loosened hairs fly through the wind. She has traded her Specialist armour for a long flowing dress. Her feet are hammering the ground in rhythm. The crowd carries her all over the dancefloor; she twirls and claps her hands following the music.

From an ignored fairy bloodline, her parents considered her a Specialist Legacy. When her mind fairies powers woke up, everything went wrong ; she was always an overwhelmed child. No one could help her everytime she lost control. Nothing but medication: earrings to contain, and pills to attenuate. It wasn't bad. She lived like that her entire life.

Silva is sitting on a plastic chair, leaning on the table by his side, his gaze lingering. She is an exceptional fighter; dance must be a piece of cake and fun judging from her large smile. To be fair, he barely remembered her from their time at Alfea. Farah told him she was three years younger than him and seemed to have a few memories.

« (Y/N) travelled a lot to the First World prior to college. Her parents were emissaries and brought back souvenirs. Rumours said that her room resembled a cave of wonders.

-Ever went there ?»

His friend chuckled.

« Once. It was full of trinkets, books, movies, postal cards too. Ben caught interest in it, especially the giant botanic encyclopaedia throning on her bookshelf. We both agreed after a while that she might be the ray of sunshine of her Specialist promotion. But I guess she was discreet, if you've never heard of her.»

It took some memory searching, but he indeed remembered one thing. A conversation between a bunch of 1st years talking about a secret party displaying famous First World movies. A few hours later, on the training field, (Y/N) battled fiercely. It caught the attention of many students, who gathered around the platform. Curiosity taking the best of him, he had followed the crowd.

« What's that First World song that I love to describe you with ?

-By the light Clairo, is it really necessary ? »

Her opponent mocked her. She rolled her eyes, wielding her sword before choosing her fight stance.

« You son of... Maneater from Nelly Furtado. Now let's fight please.

-Alright doll, eat me up. »

(Y/N) huffed in annoyance. Clairo was a good fighter, but a little bit too flirty. He launched himself at her. The young woman stayed incredibly calm. Dodging to the right, she left him to stumble before hitting his back with the wooden weapon. He fell to the ground with a grunt. A shy smile spread on her features.

Now that he thinks about it, her earring had intrigued him : an ear chain hanging from the top of the cartilage of her ear to her lobe. Each end was composed of a lavendish round lilac crystal. When she lost control recently, those crystals lit up with a blinding light and burned her skin.

« I change the earring every five year. Every year If any several big crises occurred.

-What about your burns ? How did they clean them up ? »

Her left hand ghosted over her intact lobe, while Harvey healed the bruised flesh. Her eyes stared at the floor of the greenhouse. Saul was holding her other hand.

« They... I stuffed myself with pills. Sometimes enough to sleep through an entire day. Within the Solarian force, it was the only way for them to treat me. None of their mind fairies could calm me down. I don't think you realize how much this, she lifted her intertwined hand, helps.»

The soldier chuckles at the memory. His eyes examined his fingers, remembering how she locked hers, as she found an anchor in his mind.

« My best guess ? Your training forged your head to have a certain mindset in crisis.

-Loads of Solarian troupers could have given you that.

-Yeah. I can't really explain it, she laughed shyly, maybe because you're a teacher, that two of your long time friends are fairies or just because you're good with people.»

Their gazes crossed. The air thickened. Truth to be told, (Y/N) was so lost upon why he managed to calm her down. Farah tried to guide her, but even then, nothing positive came out. Her youth as a student at Alfea only consisted in shared side glances with him in hallways. She sure as hell found the man attractive, but she had other stuff to think about.

A loud giggle snaps him back to reality. (Y/N) falls on his laps while trying to take off her high heels. Her eyes are opened wide and a little glassy. She's definitely drunk.

« Oh by the light, I'm sorry Silva. Aimed at the table ! »

The atmosphere becomes lighter. He catches her when she nearly trips off by trying to get up, one of his arms snaking around to help. Steadying herself on his laps, she catches her breath slowly, though some giggles erupt as she looks around.

« How can you still dance, uh ?»

With a guilty smile, she leans slightly against the table.

« Alcohol ! It's the only thing keeping me up, baby !»

Instant regret shoots through her veins. Some red creeps up on her cheeks, as her hands cover her mouth. The soldier chuckles, enamoured by her adorableness. One thing that strucked him when they met was her lightness. Out of all the solarian troupers out there, or even all the specialists he ever crossed paths with, she was one of the few who stayed so bright and playful. Subconsciously, his fingers dig slightly in her hips.

« It's alright, (Y/L/N).»

She giggles a bit, but thanks him. Farah watches from a far, joined by Ben. (Y/N)(Y/L/N) has been teaching at Alfea for a year now. The entire school seemed to have transformed into a much more joyous place : students got along better, the shyest opened a tad and the roughest softened. Ben's daughter Terra found a supporter of her personal projects and a confidant. Ben himself benefited from her return. Mostly in books and knowledge but that meant already so much to him. Farah gained a daughter ; (Y/N)'s powers were a mess for her advanced age, helping felt natural. But what she loved the most was how confused Saul got with the new Specialist. Their bond strengthened with time, however the first few days rocked the Headmaster all over the place.

«(Y/L/N), what did you do to our office ? Did you... Are these books classified by alphabetic order and colour ?! »

His colleague shrugged, trying to see if he was mad or just surprised. It happened a few days after her arrival. Their shared office went under few renovations.

« (Y/L/N), why dancing classes ? »

She shot up, put her hands on his desk and took twenty minutes to explain how it would make their movements more flexible, strengthen teamwork and be a tool for future mission on the job. Astonished could not describe Silva's feeling.

An admirable change that proved beneficial to the students. These two grew very fond of each other. A lot more than they thought. Words in the hallways started to spread about their growing fondness.

« Okay, I got a question for you, soldier boy.»

Saul tilted his head to the side.

« Are you having fun ?

-Of course I am.»

(Y/N) looks disappointed. Turning around, she pours some water in her cup and chugs it down.

« Really ? 'Cause the only thing I've seen you do is sit in a corner all night. »

He lowers his head, searching for the right words. How does he say that he just loves watching her run around the dancefloor ? How she bounds with students but also keeps their respect ? The fact that she's so organised that she could plan a First World themed party and keep her teacher skills to their best ? The shortest way for that would be admitting his feelings. He zones out long enough for her to talk again.

« It's okay. »

His eyes lock with hers. How did she sober up so quickly ?

« I know you have a reputation as a serious and frowny teacher to keep. And this is a graduation party, so. »

Never mind, she did not. The woman gets up, only to kneel under the tablecloth. He panics briefly.

« (Y/N), what on Earth are you doing ?»

She mumbles before appearing back outside. Her hands are holding a package. Another bright smile shines on her face. Silva knows what's coming, and he has mixed feelings about it; between fear, excitement and confusion.

« Happy Birthday Saul. »

His heart nearly stops. Few people know about his birthday, she is now a part of them. He frankly does not mind, even wished for it for a while now. His hands gently take the package to open it. Before his eyes lies a hard covered sketchbook and a wooden box full of high-quality pencils. The cover has a crow flying in a pearly sky with a red sun. The box is made of ebony and his name carved in silver. She knows an another of his secret. He tears up. The woman worries when he starts to sniffle. Much to her surprise, the soldier puts the gifts on the table before hugging her with all his might. Thank God the students are dancing or already out of the hall to smoke. (Y/N) answers his embrace, reassured.

« Thank you so much dear. »

It's her turn to have glossy eyes. She buries her face in his shoulder. This man is constantly under pressure and she has always wondered what he does during his free time : Does he train more ? He probably reads, right ? The answer came on a regular afternoon.

Silva knocked on her quarters' door. He heard shuffling before (Y/N) opened. She was wearing a bathrobe and a towel around her hair.

« Hi Saul ! Sorry hum. I woke up late and did not expect you so soon so, hum. »

The woman looked around, making her towel fall. Picking it up, she invited him in. He indulged, though a bit surprised.

« I'll be back in a jiffy, you know, putting some clothes on and all. Okay.»

She disappeared in her bathroom, leaving him to explore her room. Many watercolour paintings covered the walls, some abstract and others from the Realms of the Otherworld. However, a few landscapes felt unknown to him. On her desk lied sketches with a horde of different pencils. He discovered portraits of Farah, Ben, Terra, Sky, Riven and finally him. The lines were thin, some shadows sharp for the warriors and smoother for the fairies. A hint of jealousy took over him, quickly brushed away by shyness. The fact that she took the time to draw him was flattering. His fingers grazed over the pencils, wondering if he had time to prepare a little surprise. He puts down the file he came to discuss. A few minutes later, (Y/N) came out, dressed but her hair still wet on the edges. Silva was leaning against her desk, file in hand, a small smile on his features. She mirrored it before asking about the important matter at hand. Twenty minutes later, he left. Her eye caught a change in her drawing material : the portrait of Farah and Ben switched positions. She shuffled them, making sure everything was here, only to find an unknown piece. A cute fox was smiling, a little bubble under him stating :

« Nice Work (Y/L/N). Nice pencils too. Wish I had your talent.»

That last sentence made her wonder if he indeed had an artistic side. Needless to say that his quarters gave her answer. Same reason as his when he came, she knocked on his door one night. Though he did not fully invite her in, her eyes caught glimpses of nice sketches lying on a table, some rudimental equipment next to it.

They stay like this for a few seconds. The headmistress and Professor Harvey look at each other. No words, no need. Terra is chatting with a second year in a corner, bur her eyes catch them. She smiles, looking away shyly, but happy Sky sees the scene too, thanks to Riven who taps on his shoulder. They can't help the smile growing on their faces. Sky's father figure finding support is definitely going to be one of the highlights of their first year. (Y/N) and Saul part. One of her hands pats his arm.

« Wanna dance ? »

He closes his eyes, sighing. There is no lack of desire but the fear of what the students will say.

« I wish but... I don't know.

-I get it. But one day, you will ! That's a promise. »

With one last smile, she strolls back to the dancefloor, leaving him sheepish. He takes the sketchbook and a pencil. He might not dance tonight, but he'll make up to it.

[vagrantblvrd]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Late-night and also half-assed AU idea times?

The one where Luke gets sent back in time (Because Reasons) to Clone Wars era shenanigans.

Also Because Reasons Obi-Wan is put in charge of keeping an eye on this kid, idk, Biggs Antilles because everyone is so hapless in the Star Wars universe when under pressure, like seriously.

Anyway.

Obi-Wan is suspicious like a suspicious person and so is Anakin and Luke is kind of losing his mind because he never knew (suspected, but never had proof) that old Ben was a goddamned menace and all his lectures to Luke about same are like, wow, dude, wow.

Oh, and also his dad.

And Ahsoka?

And all the clones and everyone else and he’s like, ;____________________; at what could have been, you know?

But also not sure if he’ll ever get back to his time - he really hopes so because there’s this Mandalorian with an adorable kid - and oh, God, he needs to check on Grogu in this time stat, but yes.

Shenanigans in which Luke desperately tries to hide his real identity because everyone’s iike “He feels like Anakin,how strange, and Luke in the corner like “Hahaha, yes, STRANGE. :DDDDDD

And then adventures in which he ends up having to save Obi-Wan more than he ever expected to when he woke up twenty-something years in the past, and oh dear God is that his mom? (Leia looks so much like her. Mostly the angry part right now, because Anakin and recklessly endangering his life and uh, oops, he didn’t mean to eavesdrop???

But like. Luke is kind of bleeding again (he,too, recklessly endangered his life alongside his father and Obi-Wan) and thought medbay was this way and -

Wait, why are you looking at him like that?

Anaking and Padme worried Luke’s going to at them out to, idk, the Jedi council or whatever about their ~forbidden love, and Luke is just.

“What.”

So then the thing about attachments and how they’re bad because emotions is explained to him and Luke looks at his father who clearly loves his mother so much. Thinks about the nonsense about attachment and how scared it would make someone like Anakin, and Obi-Wan -

Luke loves him, but the man’s made mistakes. (And, like. Luke gets it, he does. Some adventure with Obi-Wan and sharing of past loves because they weren’t sure they’d make it out alive and why not share this thing with someone kind of friend-shaped, and anyway,)

Luke is like, okay, wow.

Because one, the thing about attachments is bullshit - show him one Jedi master who isn’t attached to their padawan for starters - and anyway.

Not his business who they love, an then he scurries off to medbay before he bleeds out in hallway or wherever, which is where Obi-Wan finds him and is like  >:((((( at the bleeding thing and :| about the attachment thing but also *SIGH* because Luke reminds him of this padawan he had once, what was his name???

Anyway.

Yes

Also, though, also.

Them taking Luke to Coruscant to meet with the Jedi council because they have no idea where he came from - Luke floated the possibility of time travel being real to Obi-Wan once, but as a hypothetical and really, never mind him - and anyway.

Luke being like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ as they ~question (interrogate) him because he has read up on the Jedi Order and their rules and whatnot. And where he might have been in awe of getting to meet all these Jedi masters once, now he just feels. Pity. He feels pity for them.

It shows, a little, and they call it arrogance for someone so young to think they know better than the entirety of the Jedi council and yet?

Luke doesn’t care.

Which kind of makes him a threat in their eyes, this incredibly powerful Jedi who appeared out of nowhere and shows so little - if any, really - respect for their Order.

And, they realize, who both Obi-Wan and Anakin like.

Ahsoka too, but she’s a padawan, young and such, doesn’t know better.

But also, also, after all the fun-times had with the Jedi council Luke walks out to find Palpatine talking to his father and his mother while Obi-Wan stands by and chips in with a comment or observation every so often and he is like !!! because he never expected this???

Somehow after hearing stories from people, he just. Didn’t expect the fall of the old Jedi Order to take place in a tastefully appointed waiting area, potted plants and chairs and such Maybe one of those little fountains you see in an office sometime for the soothing sound of moving water and whatnot.

Anyway.

Maybe it’s his own personal experience with the man in the throne room on the second Death Star with the dramatic lighting and so on, but it’s a wee bit jarring.

He has one of those “episodes” as the others call them, and gets hustled out of there posthaste while Palpatine is all, “Oh, dear, I do hope he feels better,” and Luke does all the meditating exercises so as not to blurt out that hey, so, that sith lord everyone’s trying to find? RIGHT THERE.

Because lack of evidence and such.

And it’s like.

After seeing what things were like, he’s just. He’s stuck here, probably, right? So. Maybe he can fix things, even a little.

(Right the wrongs that Palpatine wrought and so on.)

And while he’s doing that it occurs to him that Din, okay, Din is alive in this time. And he told Luke about the attack that killed his parents, about being rescued by Mandalorians, and is like.

Can he change that too? Should he? Searches everything he can only to realize he’s too late to do anything about it. That the attack happened before Luke arrived in this time and he has this.

This little breakdown in a library or some such somewhere, because all that fretting and whatnot he did about whether or not he should intervene was for nothing, a moot point because he was too late, and it’s like.

Existential crisis time because if he changes things more than he has, will he even exists in the future? Will Leia?

Will any of their friends exist, and on his way back to the quarters he’s been given he runs into Padme - perhaps sneaking out from visiting Anakin - and she’s surprised to see him, maybe a little worried too.

(She knows his views on the whole attachment thing, yes, but her and Anakin have kept their relationship a secret for a long time now and old habits)

Still, she notices he’s obviously not doing well and they talk for a bit, Luke asking her a hypothetical, like if she could go back in time to  change something to save someone she loved from suffering, would she?

And of course she is like. No, because doing so negates their choices and how would it affect others and so on?

Luke is just, right, of course.

But then she goes on and says, as a person, not a politician, a leader, she absolutely would.

Luke is like, oh, because of course that makes sense, doesn’t it.

Good of the many and so on and anyway.

He goes to his quarters and thinks on it for a bit and realizes, yes okay, the thing with Din was mostly selfish - he wants to say he wouldn’t have done it, but he still doesn’t know  - but Palpatine, okay, Palpatine.

How many million, billions, maybe more, lives was he responsible for? (Luke has his own count for the dead, and monstrously high it may be, but Palpatine is at the heart of all of it.)

So.

He he starts laying the groundwork to expose Palpatine, or maybe just build up, idk, say a Rebel Alliance to oppose him - and discovers that oh, would you look at that.

Because Padme and Bail and their closet conspirators who know something is coming, that Palpatine is surely part of it, but they don’t know the full scope of things.

And honestly, even Luke doesn’t, but.

They think he’s a spy or whatever, and there are all these shenanigans in the meantime, and Luke doing what he can to prove that he’s really on their side, and anyway, anyway.

He plants seeds here and there, everything Leia taight him, everything he picked up, and goes to Obi-Wan for help because his former master and watchdog, and anyway.

Before Luke gets to see if anything he’s done in the past pays off he gets booted back to his time.

Or a version of it.

Ripped back to his time and this moment where he’s sure he’s dead - in the middle of a space battle or collapsing temple somewhere and glowy doohickey, something like that, or, okay, Palpatine trying to kill hi again for the first time - and anyway.

Super disorienting.

Especially when he opens his eyes and Obi-Wan is there along with his father and is that Ahsoka?

But, like.

Older.

Also, though, Din.

And Grogu and Luke is very confused?

But there’s no time for that, as Padme and Leia run in and tell them the Imperials found them, did you get him? Yes, oh, good, and now with the running???

In which they do the running to a familiar ship Luke knows well, and also a few others he likewise knows, and anyway.

They escape just in time because an Imperial fleet was looking for them, and anyway.

Luke is super confused, but that’s okay because exposition time in which he finds out all those seeds he planted worked.

Palpatine was exposed, but didn’t matter because he had contingency plans, you know?

Order 66 never went into effect because someone - Obi-wan was prompted to go back to Kamino and ask after the clones, any...special features that may have been added and anyway.

Palpatine never got his clone army, but he made up for it with battle droids and conscripts and the Empire didn’t win? But neither did the Alliance.

Not yet, anyway, and they’ve been fighting for years at that point. No Death Star - at least not a completed one - and anyway, yes.

Alderaan’s still there, Leia doesn’t have to pretend she can see it in the night sky, and anyway.

A lot has changed but so much is still the same, and everyone, okay, everyone thinks Luke an idiot.

(They’re also not surprised by that, because Skywalker, but yes.)

This whole thing of Luke’s original memories clashing with this new timeline - he keeps his old ones, but it makes for a confusing time, you know? Some point where Luke gets this faraway look and turns to someone - maybe they were dead in that original timeline - and tells them how different everything is.

If they’re feeling brave enough, and honestly most people in Luke’s life are that brave, they ask what he was thinking about to get that look on his face and he’ll tell them about terrible future that didn’t come to pass.

One he feels a little guilty for missing sometimes because those other versions of the people he knew, loved, are gone and he’s the only one who remembers them? But then he’ll see one of them, or someone who was dead in that other timeline and realizes it’s not as simple as that.

Looks at the life he knew before and the one he’s learning now and can’t decide if what he did was the right thing?

But then he’ll catch his parents on a balcony somewhere lost in on another’s eyes and these soft smiles and the love between them that’s grown over the years. Or see Obi-Wan walking about with Cody, and soft smiles and quiet laughter and hundred dozen little moments like that and thinks, selfishly, he doesn’t truly regret it if these people he’s come to love get something like that, you know?

And, then, of course, then Din finds him, or maybe Luke goes back to their quarters on whatever ship or base they’re at then, and he’ll be waiting for him.

They were on the cusp of something when Luke got thrown back in time, but things changed once he got back.

Slow, awkward, because different timelines and experiences, but something new and good, and anyway, anyway.

Din’s there and Luke is being a little (lot) selfish in wanting to keep whatever the two of them are building between them, and Din seems to want the same, and anyway.

Yes????

[jiminrings]

could you maybe do something where it’s yoongi in rich boy!jimin’s au and he meets his y/n or a peak into how their relationship would work ? i love you 🥺💚

contact: you

pairing: yoongi x y/n

glimpse: the water’s cold but yoongi makes it warmer; or that piece in which model!yoongi meets his y/n!!

wordcount: 4k

notes: i love you too!!! :D

also, this yoongi comes from insufferable, that rich boy!jimin au!! in this fic we’re all just gonna pretend that yoongi’s PA goes by another name and not y/n :)) yoongi’s y/n is not jimin’s y/n!! pls don’t be confused that’s all hehe // gif isn’t mine!!

there’s a fine line in between compliments and insults

hENCE backhanded compliments

but in a way it’s still a compliment, right???

would it still be a backhanded compliment if you give it to yourself though,,,,, that’s the question

tHREE YEARS IN FILM SCHOOL

you just can’t seem to know whether graduating a year early than intended from film school is a cOMPLIMENT OR AN INSULT

is it an achievement or is it a curse??

ok initially, you were proud from graduating a year early because that meant one less year dedicating yoursef to studies, right???

big wrong :D

that meant you choosing the most cramped schedule with more units than you think is humanely possible

you just cAN’T help wanting to go on with life faster and easier!!! you went with this track anyway so you could become closer to the diRECTOR you’ve always wanted to be

it’s a pretty simple analogy

and u don’t get why people who took the same course as you did, didn’t think as the same way as you do

because like for example

there’s two options to go to your destination

hmmm let’s say it’s to go to the park!!! a rEALLY famous and beautiful park and if you aren’t early enough, then there’d be no place for you to lay a blanket out and properly enjoy it

the first route is a nicely-paved, nicely-leveled and cemented road, but it’s gonna take about twenty minutes because there’s traffic

oR

the second route is a much shorter trip that would take only ten minutes, but the road may be a lil rocky and not all postlamps are lit and there mAY be a crossing chicken or not

of course you’d go for the second route :D

and now you know why much more people wanted to go with the first route aHA

no disrespect to your alma mater or something but that shit sUCKED

sURE they had decent dorms and it was your decision to take the more hectic schedule that meant much less time for you to do basically anything that’s outside of your film degree

it was having instant noodles atleast four out of the seven days in a week and sometimes even skipping that processed goodie because it always felt like you’d have to be hustling

hustling is a very icky word in ur humble opinion but you like saying that now ironically in your quarter-life crisis

it was the “why would i wait to cook this for ten minutes wHEN i could be doing something else more productive iNSTEAD of eating aka delecting food that helps give what i need to atleast enact my motor functions???” thinking

which is unhealthy ok

beyond unhealthy lmao that’s what you’re sure of

and then you graduated film school!!!

the opportunities you were promised of when you were still studying?? aha zero :D

the idea that once you graduate film school and you iMMEDIATELY have the job of whatever you majored such as directing or screenwriting and etc.,,,,, that is a whole load of bull-

:D

it’s a hierarchy

you’ve graduated with LATIN HONORS and u persevered for three years with your major in directing and u wore a really nice dress for your ceremony :))))

and now you’re fetching coffee and making twenty calls in a half hour and running around to set things up :)))))

an intern :)))))

the only ones who immediately become what they’ve studied for has sOME sort of tie and pull to the industry

you may have made a thesis film that’s ranked the highest in the history of all thesis films in your university :)) and you may have had submitted it to film competitions and got approved and got some plaques :)))

but no that doesn’t mean a sINGLE bit once you’re out in the real world

you’re just taking whatever you get

i mean you dID want to work your way up in the film industry

like as in the movie industry??? the one you went to film school for?????

but what you are doing now :)) is working as an intern for this huge company that handles tv commercials and adverts and shoots :))

aHA not exactly the film industry but atleast it’s still within the media industry, right??

right???

pls say right

anyways

the agenda for today is this watch shoot!!

there’s a tv commercial to be produced out of it and there would also be multiple shoots for the models who’d be here

you dressed up extra good today :D

it wouldn’t matter but atleast it’s the thought that counts somehow

your company’s official lanyard kinda sucks and you can’t change the lace for it nO matter what but it’s no pressure!! your outfit’s gonna make up for it

there’s not exactly a dress code for interns,, it just goes for the terms as long as:

a) it’s still work-appropriate

b) this is a simultaneously unspoken yet obvious rule bUt you just need some boundaries,,,, you can’t stroll up into the set looking like the executive producer or the director who looks a lil bit fancy

c) you shouldn’t attract attention so much because you’re an intern :)) even if that iS the sole purpose of the intern because otherwise how would you land a more secure and higher-ranking job???? are they thinking or-

it’s a black shirt!!!

groundbreaking

but it’s a nice black shirt with embroidery in the front!!!

it’s just n i c e embroidered in the front and uH right on the middle of your chest area that’s clothed obviously but that’s cool

simple, casual, effortless, tINY bit fun

you also aren’t an intern with black pants

but no this is a nICER pair of pants

they’re like slacks!! like fitted slacks but not too fitted and not too formal

you wanted to wear it in tan but that’s not exactly optimized for your job because you are literally always in the go

it’s always just ease of movement in your clothes

and if you could dash in them in getting coffee or whatever the fuck the production team wants or look for duct tape and print lacking scripts like a madman, then you’re good to go :D

you caved in buying those nurse shoes that are raved about because you’re on your feet almost 24/7 and slip-on vans would not always save ur life

ur always wearing ankle support socks too because you’d rather look like an athlete misplaced in a commercial shoot rather than crying at home with how sore your body and most eSPECIALLY your legs are

that can’t stop you either

so now,,, you’re wearing cute socks on top of the support

it’s barely noticeable but it’s the effort you put in ok

and to be extra presentable, you traded your digital watch for the day with your watch that looks a little bit more classy with the silver!!!

it’s an analog watch with a really nice and shiny silver watch strap and although normally ur mind takes tWO seconds to buffer and read it as opposed to instantly knowing the exact time with a digital one, it’s worth it :D

it better be

you can get atleast one glance from park jimin and your life would be forever fulfilled

you signed a non-disclosure agreement once it was presented because after all

wHO WOULDN’T GUSH WHEN THEY KNEW THE LINE-UP FOR THIS SHOOT????

park jimin!!!

kim taehyung!!!

jung hoseok!!!

that’s the only three you knew so far

because they said that you’d know the other ones who are participating for the shoot once it actually happens

and that could mean two things

either you don’t know them at all oR they’d be really really famous and this ensures that you wouldn’t breach the nda you signed

hmmmm jimin’s kinda cute you’re not gonna lie :))

you can’t laze around in the job though because your walkie-talkie’s already bearing your name again and you’re being summoned now

this may be a blessing in disguise tho

you’re one of the interns who get called and noticed frequently and although that means mORE WORK, that also means you’re more trusted and more likely to secure the job you’re aspiring for!!!

“Y/N. There’s some extra copies of the shoot schedule by one of the makeup tables. Bring it over to me in the brief room.”

“of course!!! :D”

that’s one of your favorite producers specifically calling for you in the radio

he also talks very formally

you’ve always been a little bit close to mr. hyun bin because you were a bit of the teacher’s pet back in uni!!! he served as a professor while also being a producer and HE’S the reason you got accepted immediately as an intern here anyway!!

they’re always in the blue folders and that’s what you’re looking for very eagerly right now

because uHHHH there seems to be about a hundred makeup tables right now and mr. hyun didn’t exactly specify where

ok now where could that be

okay no it’s not on the table

lmao you find them sitting by a chair in front of the makeup table and you need to get it before someone sITS and dents the folder because mr. hyun gets a bit cranky when the folder isn’t smooth

“But the folder’s job is to keep the documents inside it smooth. If the folder’s damaged, then that also means that the contents inside it, is also damaged to a degree.”

no he said that

he literally said that once

if you could read thoughts in the air then mr. hyun probably speaks in proper punctuation AND capitalization

you found the schedule

and you also found this guy dressed in a really nice suit who looks very breathtaking

.... and is frustrated?

NOW HE LOOKS VERY FAMILIAR!!! you just can’t remember the name right now

he must be a talent because no one else is wearing the same suit that he is and his visuals are just beyond gorgeous so that must be it

he’s hunched on his makeup chair alone???

and there’s something on his hand and he keeps dipping his finger to his cupped hand and keeps squinting to the mirror in front of him and

oh

OH

“do you need help, sir?”

yoongi almost jumps out from his chair because oh my god are you-

oh huh.,., you’re not his personal assistant

you see

contact lens would be the absolute BANE of yoongi’s whole existence

he just can’t put it in

he’s said that sO many times to people who find him frustrating over it and whenever they make a “that’s what she said” joke it just makes him want to poke his eyeballs

“no, no. uh it’s okay!! i just can’t aGH shit i just need to learn how to put these cursed contacts in.”

oh he’s cute

like real cute

“name?”

wait wHAT

he’s a bit perplexed because why are you asking for his name

and uh quick question wHY don’t you know his name

not to brag but yoongi,,,, he knows to himself that he’s a world-renowned model!!! he’s done countless shoots!!! he’s appeared in so many things!!!!! why don’t you-

ok he’s being a little bit boastful in his head now

“min yoongi.”

he just states his name and he doesn’t get how would that help with his problem right now

you’ve asked because you’re searching for his name by the schedule and you’re just absent-mindedly muttering his name as you search for it

“min yoongi min yoongi min yOU OH!!! oh!!!! min yoongi!!!!!”

lmao alright that’s it

you remember him immediately and it clicks with you that oh my god this is min yoongi!!!!

that’s the reaction he was initially looking for but it’s okay he’s just gonna be humble about it

“okay well first of all, it says here that you’re about to be called in nine minutes from now so hOW about i just give you a hand, hmm??”

that is not exactly a request

because even before yoongi could like half-heartedly agree (he wants to do it so badly but he can’t) and thank you, you’re already pulling his palm towards yours

“the solution’s drying out,,, how long have you been trying to get it in?”

he hears you ask him in a teasing voice and he kinda frowns at that because well NOW he’s too embarrassed to answer :((

you’re wordlessly grabbing the solution that’s on his desk before you squirt some on your curved palm and plucking out the lens that used to be on his palm

“you have to clean it first.”

“mhmm....,., yes.,.,.., i know that.”

a little bit

jUST a little bit

“you clean it first in these motions, see?? don’t rub it clockwise or anything like that”

ooh so that’s how it goes

he doesn’t want to be rude but he thinks that you’re not the director of this shoot

and there’s nothing bad about that!!!! he just wouldn’t know how to feel if the director were to see him frustrated over contact lens and they’d be the one to do it for him

“pick it up like a bowl!! make sure that the ends of it turn iNWARDS, okay?? inwards!!! if the ends poke out then it would literally hurt so much and maybe you’d be blind”

oh

YOONGI DIDN’T EVEN KNOW THAT UNTIL NOW

so that’s where he went wrong for like five times,,,,,

“never put it in dry, okay? otherwise it would hurt too.”

that’s it yoongi’s taking this girl’s words down

he doesn’t know wHO you are but he appreciates you

“now tilt your head down a little bit for me :))”

yoongi bows his head and it kinda makes you snort because he was serious with that one

“nO NO just a little bit, mr. min.”

you have your thumb on his chin just to get it to the right position

he will d-word right now oh my god is he a dummy

how could you pOSSIBLY put the contacts on him if his head was hung that low

in any angle though, he looks so nice

he has long eyelashes too and they’re pointing downwards so that may add on to his problem

“now look up”

whew oh god you need to avert your eyes a little bit because you’re just realizing now that this is mIN YOONGI you’re dealing with right now

“or at me!! yeah that would work too :))”

yoongi’s just killing it with his social cues huh :)))))))))

you’re placing delicately the lens by his sclera and yoongi kinda panics and is at the same excited because this is dEFINITELY HAPPENING

“ok calm dOWN and now move your eye until the contact clings and keep moving it still even if you’ve got it already for like eight seconds!!!”

he did it

well technically yOU DID IT

BUT STILL!!!!!

“oh my god that is the qUICKEST thing ever omg now the other eye!! do the other eye!!! :D”

he’s so giddy over you putting on his contact lens and he doesn’t even know you and you just feel so familiar to him!!

yoongi trusts you with his contact lens and that’s enough trust you’d ever need

“aaaaand we’re done!! :D”

“thank you!! what’s your n-“

alright that is mr. hyun asking for a follow-up in the walkie-talkie by asking where’s the schedules and that means you immediately have to dash to the briefing room :))

yoongi didn’t even catch your name :((

you didn’t even get to say goodbye to him :((

you didn’t get to see yoongi for the rest of the shoot because after you’ve delivered the papers, you were then summoned to take care of the catering company that’s gonna do it’s second rounds and to facilitate whatever they needed to do :((((

it’s a bummer though

you dIDN’T even get to see the actual shoot get done because you were too busy verifying the payments if those fish fingers are really priced like that in the receipt you were given :((

you’re probably never gonna see him again

there’s another shoot you’ve been called for again the next week and this time, it was for a luxury brand that’s releasing it’s summer line and the settings for it were a beach AND a swimming pool

they couldn’t have just become satisfied with a beach and had to add on a fancy pool filled with chlorine and then more chlorine for the sets

“Y/N, do you know how to swim?”

mr. hyun asks you so casually as your only task as of now is to stand beside him as he lists things and you check it off in your clipboard

“hmm. i do know how to swim, mr. hyun, but not professionally, y’know?? they don’t exactly teach dives in film school”

he laughs at that and you smile at that because good for you :))

“Good. Because we’re gonna need someone to keep these floaties still, and the lifeguard’s out, and here’s a rashguard.”

what

what in the actual fUCK

you see

although this is for a summer line and a summer shoot

yOU’RE SHOOTING IN JANUARY

and you came into work today not thinking that you’re gonna be in a frEEZING pool wearing a rashguard underneath your shirt to keep these floaties still!!!!

you love your job you love your job you love your job!!!!!

maybe if you say it enough, it’s gonna come true!!!!!

“oH ITS YOU AGAIN!!!”

hold up

that’s

“yoongi????”

“cONTACT GIRL!!!!!”

the both of you are genuinely surprised to see each other ok

at this point, you should automatically assume that yoongi would always be the undisclosed model in your shoots

you’re looking up at him and he’s looking down on you because CLEARLY he is not in the freezing pool as you are

“i’d let you put in my contacts right now, but it doesn’t exactly make a good addition to chlorine :]”

the water’s freezing but yoongi just makes it warmer :))

mr. hyun’s saying the directions to you as to where in the pool you should place yoongi and the floatie’s slippery and you dON’T want to risk getting the clothes wet because it’s not intended.,..,. even if this is a summer shoot

he has a tough crowd (you) and you’re just kinda deadpanning because you now feel you aRE a little bit embarrassed even if this is your job and u shouldn’t be

“i’m kidding!! jus kidding :D”

humor doesn’t exactly click when you’re about waist-deep and aBOUT to be shoulder-deep into freezing cold water

and now since you look a fool, you’re just gonna deal with the slippery floatie and yoongi notices so he’s the one who takes your hand instead as he nudges you to move

:] i was just joking pls don’t hate me :]

you stop the moment mr. hyun says sTOP that’s perfect and before you could awkwardly waddle yourself away from the camera’s view-

“is your face just good and the sunscreen you used is matte, or do you just not have any sunscreen on??”

yoongi asks with much concern as if it’s the most important thing in the world and he doesn’t have a shoot to do

“i don’t have-...”

“no? oh come on, contact girl!! come here for a second!!!”

you look to mr. hyun because Sir is it really and he’s just screaming back with his eyes going gO COME TO MIN YOONGI

you’re confused and before you know it, yoongi’s reaching for you and digging into his pocket and-

“sunscreen stick!! the sun’s always there even if it’s freezing, y’know?”

this time, it’s yoongi tilting your chin up and very delicately swipes the stick on your face and even taps it in

:))

“all done!! let’s start the shoot!!”

he claps up and everybody gets into position and you have to waddle back to your spot awkwardly with your cheeks heating up

you don’t know if it’s yoongi’s power move to swipe his own sunscreen sticks on people but it fEELS LIKE IT IS

he’s very well-aware of what he’s done and he now has every intention to ask you what’s your name after this

although tHAT doesn’t happen again because now mr. hyun’s telling you to come up and get all dried down because after this, he’s gonna need you to ask the front desk if you could access more of their amenities for the sudden changes in the shoot :(((

yoongi almost doesn’t want to leave the set because you’re out again :((( and he still hasn’t had the chance to ask you your name

uGH it’s just so unfair :(((

you feel the same way and you just wanna see him!!! even if he’s only gonna tease you for most of the time and you’re gonna be a blushing mess throughout!!!

you’re cranky ok

you’re more cranky than how mr. hyun gets with dented folders

you’ve had two back-to-back shoots this week and you’ve only had ONE hour of sleep for the whole time

seriously

not to mention that you thought you’d also see yoongi in atleast one of those projects :(( but it was a no-go either

your job is just sO demanding

it starts earlier and ends later than how the printed schedules say and is much more different than the talent’s

speaking of talents, these artists are just pure out LATE and not only are they setting a bad impression on the director!!!!

but they are also the reason for the bane of your existence!!!you call their drivers non-stop to ask for the whereabouts and to adjust the catering’s schedule and the amends that you need to make for people

they make your job harder and your hours longer and your fatigue greater

you actually feel like you’re gonna pASS OUT

mr. hyun’s the one who’s assigning you to these projects and as MUCH as you’re thankful because that means better pay and more exposure and more experience,,, he’s really not seeing the fatigue he’s putting you thru right now

you forgot your ankle support,,,, you have nOT eaten three meals today,,,, you haven’t drank water for hours,,,,, you fEEL like you’re gonna pass out

and someone’s just called you over again to deliver these hair pins to this specific trailer asap and oh god your ankles are just gonna fall off at this point

ok quick knock and you enter and-

“hmm?? oh, it’s okay!! we don’t need it anymore. someone else already brought in new ones :))”

fu-

“cONTACT GIRL!!!!!!”

if you took a moment to read the name that’s by the front of the trailer, you’d know that this is yoongi’s trailer and the makeup artists just went straight to his,, instead of him coming to them because he just can’t be damned to stand and walk over there :D

the makeup artist you were talking to moved out of the way so the both of you could see each other and sO yoongi could also stop stretching his neck out to the max

they’re finishing up anyway

his contact lens case was held by this makeup artist and she was about to put em in and yoongi snatched back the case :))

“here!!! put them on me!!!”

okay that’s a bit awkward for the other girl yikes.,.,. she’s just uh gonna exit the trailer with the other makeup artists now

“hi.”

you only greet back now as you get the case for him and yoongi frowns at that

why aren’t you cheery???? he’s used to you being more enthusiastic than him so wHY is he the one carrying the conversation (that hasn’t been even started) that’s already dwindling out

you’re getting really really sluggish and this sudden heavy wave of sleepiness is really hitting you

you dO look kinda hazy

“are you okay??”

yoongi’s holding you by the sides of your arms and your eyes are blinking so slowly as you try to nod but that just won’t cut it for him

“well i think yOU need to rest”

he’s standing up and is about to put you onto his sofa so you could like perhaps nap a minute or two since he knows fatigue when he sees it

but by the looks of it, he can’t even make you lie down because you’re already sitting down

sitting down

on his lap

oN HIS LAP

this is really.,.,...nice

yoongi’s a bit shocked and there aren’t any sentences forming in his head besides “what’s your name, contact girl???” as if that is the mOST pressing issue right now

“ᶦ’ᵐ ʸ/ⁿ” is what you could only practically mumble because this pillow is really soft and warm and heavenly and u want nothing more at the moment than to be buried in it

yoongi has never felt this soft

ever

there’s you accidentally falling asleep on him

literally ON him

and his hands are still hovering but he decides to relocate them on your back, rubbing small circles and even patting softly

your hair smells really good too

he must’ve been to engrossed in it as you burst awake some minutes later and you almost bump his jaw on your way up

“oh my gOD did i just pass out on your lap???”

well you’re still sat on his lap and you’re scrambling away while you’re still groggy and he has to reach for you before you could topple over

“no problem!! it’s cool i sWEAR!!!”

he quickly explains what’s happened and how he’s close with hyun bin and how he literally conversed for like two seconds and your producer immediately agreed

yoongi just said “hEY mr. hyun!!! y/n works for you, right?? i’m SO sorry if this isn’t in my position to ask but y’know she did just kinda pass out and i was wondering if she could just lay down in my trailer for awhile??”

within two minutes mr. hyun apparently went to the trailer and delivered your backpack and he keeps in mind to apologize to you later on and hmmmmm is there anything going on between you and yoongi???

“are there any pillows?”

underneath the cushion the both of you are sitting at, there is a shit tON of pillows he just keeps there

there’s memory foam!! cotton!! feather!! a hybird of those two!!!

yoongi decides to answer and he delivers it with the straightest answer possible

“... no.”

he quickly clears his throat as he looks to his lap and taps on it so you could lie down on him!!

you think you like yoongi :)))

yoongi is positive that he likes you :)))

you stand up for a moment and he panics because nO where are you going??? but it was just for you to retrieve your phone and grab your earphones!!

you kind of have an irrational fear of buying airpods and that shit just falling every two seconds and then you could nEVER find it

and so here you are :)) offering yoongi an earphone as you lay your head on his lap

there’s just something so familiar with the melody

the lyrics

the vOICE

so familiar to the point that yoongi’s heart practically drops because oh god

tHAT’S HIM

THAT’S HIM IN HIS OTHER JOB THAT ONLY HE KNOWS ABOUT

“this suga guy.,, i like him.”

“o-oH???”

yoongi doesn’t know whether he should feel jealous because you like this suga guy

but he doesn’t know shit because he IS that suga guy!!!

and so his mind’s fuzzy and all-conflicted as you babble on, about to be lulled to sleep again

“once i get to make a film, like an actual full-length film and jUST not a thesis film,,,, i’m hiring him,,,, i don’t care if he consumes like 80% of my budget for that film iM HIRING HIM!!!”

yoongi’s about to practically combust right now

he’s grinning from ear-to-ear, looking down on you who he’s grown fond of so much so fast and is lying down on his lap, his thumb pressing down on your cheek softly as he tilts his head

“do you wanna know a secret?”

[soaptunes]

Paramore - After Laughter - Album Review

The quarter-life crisis album for a generation who didn't know they needed it yet.

Yeah, I, uh, totally missed Paramore. As a recovering 2013 Tumblr girl, I don't know how that one happened, but it did, and now I'm paying for it and wondering why the hell I waited for so long. (Hint: it was probably the internalized misogyny.) I remember a surprising amount of negativity surrounding this record when it arrived, which I guess isn't surprising given how hostile to change Paramore's core demographic can be despite their lineup changes. At the same time, though, it is surprising - this is Paramore's happiest-sounding, most immediate album, and has some of their absolute best lyrics. Down to a trio, and with Zac Farro rejoining on drums, After Laughter finds the band shedding the baggage of their teenage years and realizing that, yeah, the rest of it is going to be like this.

The hooks on this album, my god. Opening with the one-two punch of lead singles "Hard Times" and "Rose-Colored Boy," the latter of which has instantly become my favorite of the few Paramore songs I know, the band proceeds through a salvo of killer pop songs. I did say pop and not pop-punk: while this is certainly pop-rock-ish, the lack of punk bite on these songs is part of the draw. Again, this is an album about maturation - the pettiness of "Misery Business" is gone. The radio-slickness of "Still Into You" is a bit closer, but After Laughter leans into the goofiness of the 80s, with call-and-response chants, simple synth lines on cheap keyboards, and jangly guitar tones cribbed from bands like the Cure and especially New Order at their sugariest. "Caught in the Middle" rides three chords like Blink but turns into a Blondie-ish reggae strut on the irresistible chorus, with one of Williams's best performances and the best guitar line on the album.

Other highlights include the lush "Pool," "Fake Happy," whose simple synth riff is the kind that gets stuck in your jaw like candy, the alternately moody (hello Robert Smith) and bouncy "Idle Worship," and the lovely acoustic-and-strings surprise "26," which has one of the most affecting melodies I've ever heard from a band with its roots in the snottier side of pop-punk. (That's a very affectionate use of the word "snottier," ftr.) One thing I love that connects all these songs is their embrace of the verse - there's a stupid and shitty trend in a lot of radio pop these days to just let the verses fill space to lull you into a sense of security before slapping you over the head with an overinflated chorus. Williams recognizes in her songwriting that verses are just as important to the structure and memorability of a pop song as the chorus, and there's hardly a wasted verse section across the whole record.

I delayed it this long, but it's impossible to talk about htis album without talking about Williams's lyrics, and, boy. For all the "I'm So Fucked Up And Sad" posturing that Paramore's Warped Tour stagemates paraded out for crowds of Fucked Up And Sad teenagers, rarely have I heard anything from that crowd that can articulate the realities of depression, ennui, and mental illness.

> Leave me here a little bit longer

> I think I wanna stay in the car

> I don't want anybody seeing me cry now

> You say "We gotta look on the bright side"

> I say "Well, maybe if you wanna go blind"

> You say my eyes are getting too dark now

> But boy, you ain't ever seen my mind

> Hey, if I smile with my teeth

> Bet you believe me

> If I smile with my teeth

> I think I believe me

> See, I'm gonna draw up my lipstick wider than my mouth

> And if the lights are low, they'll never see me frown

> Survival will not be the hardest part

> It's keeping all your hopes alive

> When all the rest of you has died

> So let it break your heart

And that's just the first five songs! The heart of this album is consumed with using music and performance to cover up darker thoughts, losing friends, and aging out of the circle that protected you when you were younger. It resonates if you let it, but the music on the surface doesn't bear many traces either. Being able to convey pain so harshly in songs this snappy is rare, and it suits the band really well. This is a silly comparison but I'm almost reminded of Silver Jews' *American Water* in the pithiness of its sadness.

If I have one criticism of After Laughter, it's that at this point the band Paramore has become a bit of a Hayley Williams solo project. That's fine, of course, and the album doesn't suffer for it, since she's brilliant, but it does mean that sometimes the instrumentals take a backseat to her vocals, like on the just-okay "Grudges," or the sleepy "Forgiveness." The guitar playing can run anonymous, which is kinda crazy coming from the guy who shredded his way through the Riot! years and delivered the slamming walls of guitar on "Ain't It Fun's" chorus. That's a pretty minor complaint overall, though, I was really impressed by this record and couldn't believe I slept on it for so long. Catch me sprinting through their back catalogue this week!

RATING: LIGHT 9/10

FAVORITE TRACKS: "Hard Times," "Rose-Colored Boy," "Told You So," "Fake Happy," "26," "Pool," "Caught in the Middle," "Idle Worship," "Tell Me How"

LEAST FAVORITE TRACK: "Forgiveness"

after laughter on spotify

[honsoolie]

don’t rush | 02

pairing: Yoongi/reader

genre: slight enemies to lovers, college au, fluff, eventual smut, classical pianist!yoongi, violinist!reader, they’re both actually really into each other but won’t admit it

warnings (for this chapter only): mentions of stage fright/performance anxiety, swearing, sexual references, slight angst, dad jokes :|  

words: 6k 

rating: +18

summary: You know, when Min Yoongi’s face isn’t screwed into an accusatory scowl, he looks exactly like the kind of guy you’d have no trouble falling in love with. Or, the conservatory au where Yoongi helps you get over your stage fright. In more ways than one.

a/n: didn’t plan to take this long for an update, life gets in the way, you know the drill. read 01 here and as always, this is crossposted to ao3 :) 

When you get inside, the warmth welcomes you in. You’re not quite sure if it’s from the heating in the hallway or how Yoongi’s eyes had shone in the moonlight. You lean against the inner door frame, a happy smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, legs a little weak in the knee. You feel light-headed, maybe from being up late, maybe from your exhausting day, maybe from the lingering remnants of Yoongi’s cologne. 

Did that really just happen? Did he really just ask for your number? Was this all a dream?

The euphoria is short-lasting, however. You still have some assignments waiting for you, and only a couple hours left until your morning classes. The tiredness never lets up, and your limbs heavy again as you make your way inside the lobby of your dorm.  

Unknown number (2:47am): hi this is yoongi 

Unknown number (2:47am): did you get inside ok? 

You (2:48am): yeah

You (2:48am): did u? 

  Yoongi (2:50am): im walking back now 

Yoongi (2:50am): you should sleep soon :// 

  You (2:51am): I still have hw :( 

You (2:51am): text me when ur back inside too 

  Yoongi (2:53am): lmaoo is it counterpoint hw 

Yoongi (2:54am): it’s so sweet that you care for my safety ;( 

  You (2:54am): yes sadly 

You (2:55am): ofc I care, we can’t have our amazing star pianist get hurt 

  Yoongi (2:55am): im home now

Yoongi (2:58am): you have a thing for praise, don’t you 

Even though you can’t see him, you splutter alone in your room, roommate fast asleep. There is no way that means what you think it means. 

You (3:00am): idk where u got that from 

You (3:03am): maybe i do, you’ll have to find out 

  Yoongi (3:04am): I would, but you have to finish your analysis worksheet :/ 

  You (3:15am): ugh, fuck it

You (3:15am): im going to sleep 

You (3:15am): ill just wake up early tomorrow to finish it before class 

  Yoongi (3:16am): what? No goodnight? >:( 

Yoongi (3:17am): some manners you have 

Yoongi (3:17am): what a rude girl 

  You (3:18am): aw have i been bad? 

You (3:18am): I’m sooooo sorry 

You (3:19am): gn 

The minutes tick by, and you grow more indignant than you should. Is he serious? 

Who doesn’t say goodnight back? Maybe you scared him off. Maybe all this “flirtatious” banter was just how Yoongi talked to his friends. How would you know? You don’t know anything about him. 

The same insidious doubt creeps back in. Maybe this is all a game to him. Maybe he just wanted to introduce himself to another music student in the department, you all were supposed to know each other anyway. Maybe, worst of all, he had really only meant to wake you up in the music building as a simple courtesy, no intent behind it. You groan as you sink into your bed, cradling your head in your hands. 

You (3:27am): some hypocrite you are 

  Yoongi (3:30am): I was in the showerrr relax 

Yoongi (3:31am): hm you have been bad 

Yoongi (3:33am): maybe I should punish you 

  You (3:29am): u wish 

You (3:30am): but goodnight for real, we have class in five hours :”( 

  Yoongi (3:31am): goodnight

Yoongi (3:31am): save me a spot next to you 

~

You were in the world’s smallest big crisis. 

Was Yoongi actually serious when he asked you to save a seat? Or were you just indulging in wishful thinking? Was he flirting with you last night? And if he was, what are you supposed to do now? 

Whatever he meant, you would have to face him now. 

The endless litany of maybes and what-ifs grows louder in your head, even louder than last night during your text correspondence with him.You elect to use your backpack to save the seat next to you as class time draws nearer, chiding yourself for overthinking something so casual, but it does nothing to soothe your existential anxiety. 

“Thanks for saving me a spot, I’m so glad you remembered.” A voice brings you out of your reverie. It takes a moment to register who it is at first. Your eyes meet the traditional college garb first, sweatpants and an overwashed fundraising t-shirt, then the half-tamed cowlick, that ever-present cup of coffee. Your breath catches in your throat, breathtaking despite the casual circumstances. It’s just another class lecture, you chastise yourself, but your gut twists nonetheless. 

Seeing Yoongi in such close quarters is still an adjustment for you, his presence (or even the thought of being close to him) a shock to your body. You had spent so much time languishing after him that even now, it still feels like waking up into a dream. 

You clear your throat, stalling, “Yeah, putting my backpack in the seat next to mine was sooo hard. You should compensate me for my labor.” 

You try to put on the flirty smile that you were wearing last night, but it feels like a grimace. God, you are way too nervous for this. 

You realize you’ll never get tired of the way he laughs at your shitty jokes, the way his shoulders shake and eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Yeah, I will, don’t you worry about that.” He sinks into the seat next to you and doesn’t spare you a second glance. 

Dr. Won walks in, the picture of put-togetherness, killing whatever flirty response you had formulated. 

You thought you had enjoyed having a crush before, but admiring someone and imagining a life together from afar was worlds away from talking and sitting next to said object of affection. This shouldn’t be that big of a deal. You shouldn’t be tripping all over yourself when Yoongi sits next to you in lecture. 

Whatever Dr. Won is saying is drowned out by Yoongi sitting next to you. It feels deeply unfair how he affects you, when he gets to sit next to you like nothing important is happening. It’s just another day in lecture, preparing for the midterms coming up. 

He’s not even doing anything, minding his own business. You shouldn’t be swooning when he is just sitting there, again bouncing his leg, taking diligent notes. From the furtive glances you steal, even his handwriting is attractive. Endearing, even if it was a little messy and looping over the printed lines.

~

True fact: the only reason why Yoongi fidgets so much is because of the effect you had on him. It drives him up the wall, the way you keep tucking your hair behind your ear. He envies your unfaltering concentration, the look in your eye when you see something on the Powerpoint slides that you have to jot down. 

Yoongi can’t stand to silently sit next to you without doing anything anymore. Taking his pen, he scrawls on the corner of your neat notes. He knows it’ll piss you off, but that’s the reaction that he wants. 

  do you have any idea what is going on 

  He watches carefully for your reaction. Satisfaction creeps into his neutral expression when you notice, confusion turning into what could only be a lovestruck smile, and then into an irritated grimace. Fuck, even the curve of your wrist was enough to drive him crazy. You pick up your pen, writing back. 

  No, stop writing on my stuff 

  Okay, new plan, Yoongi concedes. He settles for writing on the corner of his own notes, tearing off the corner. He slips the paper into your lap, fingertips skimming the top of your thigh. He doesn’t notice, but he leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake. 

  don’t you think dr. won dresses like an old hag 

  You write back on the scrap of paper: 

actually you could learn a thing or two from her 

  Yoongi smirks, in classic Yoongi fashion. 

You know I would rock a long skirt like her 

  Yoongi watches you read his message, smile, and then tuck the note into your notebook. 

~

After class, Dr. Won reminds everyone of the midterm coming up two weeks from now, and that’s when Yoongi senses an opportunity. The two of you walk out of class together, forced to walk side by side because of the student foot traffic.

“Do you like, want to study together sometime?” Yoongi blurts out, louder than he needs to be, even among the hum of the other students. 

 He clears his throat. “I mean, we’ve shared a lot of classes, so.” 

You can’t help but laugh in surprise, or maybe incredulousness. You resist the urge to let the satisfaction show on your face. “I didn’t know you ever noticed.” 

“Of course I did. You’re like, the biggest nerd on the planet.” Even when Yoongi is teasing you, he can’t help but sound bashful. 

You gasp in mock offense. “There’s nothing wrong with being a nerd.” You both stop, standing at the mouth of the lecture hall. 

“Of course not.” He’s awfully close to you, close enough that you can see the mole on the tip of his nose. “That’s why I’m asking you to be my study buddy.”

It’s not necessary to be standing this close. Sure, the hallway is busy, but not that busy. 

“Study buddy? That sounds lame.” You scoff, playing hard to get. Both you and Yoongi know you’re going to say yes anyway. 

“What else do you want me to call you? My homework homie?” 

“Uh, yeah . That sounds way better than study buddy. ” You’re more proud of your humor than anything else, even if it earns a deserved eye-roll from Yoongi. 

“And midterms are coming up. So you know, mutually beneficial.” Yoongi takes a sip from his coffee, peering at you from behind the rim.   

“Like… friends with benefits?” You can’t help yourself. It’s just too easy to flirt with him. 

Yoongi tongues his cheek, he grins. “Only if you want it to be.” He’s having way too much fun with this. 

You try to hide your reaction, but Yoongi notices anyway. (He notices a lot of things you don’t realize.) Your wide-eyed shock, the blush that’s flushing down your neck, the way you open your mouth as if to say something equally as flirtatious back, your laugh, like this is actually way more casual than it is. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” He says. You could get used to the playful lilt in his voice. 

“Only if you promise you won’t just copy my work.” You cross your arms in front of your chest, suddenly very aware of how tall he is. 

“I live and die by the honor code, y/n. Of course I won’t,” Yoongi says, leaning ever closer to you in the cramped hallway. 

You quirk an eyebrow. “Does a man of honor text me like you did last night?” 

“Oh come on. If you’re going to be friends with me you’re going to have to learn to laugh at dirty humor.” Friends? It’s a start, at least. 

“Who said that I didn’t like dirty humor?” 

“Hmm, I did.” There’s a glint in his eyes that wasn't there before. “You’d have to be a woman of your word and show me.” 

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You flash an innocent smile, like you don’t see the implication of what he’s saying. 

~

Tuesdays have always been the most bittersweet day of the week for you. It’s lesson day, but oh, it’s lesson day. It feels like the day of judgement, every single week. It’s a culmination of all the blood and tears that you’ve poured into your music in the past week, another chance at evaluation. You’ve known your violin teacher longer than you’ve been in college, and it still shouldn’t scare you this much.

The nervousness spins and dips in your chest as you make your way up the winding stairs that lead to the music building. You usually soothe the apprehension by reminding yourself of all the things you’ve done to prepare, just like you usually do before you go out on stage. This week you were supposed to get the rest of the Bach partita memorized and cleaned up, but it still resides in your memory as disjointed bits and pieces of what it’s actually supposed to sound like. You try to run through the parts that you were stuck on last night, but you draw a blank. You usually don’t take this long to commit pieces to memory, but when you open up your score, all you can think about is the unmoving stare of the audience. Seeing your life flash before your eyes every time you stare at your pencil markings isn’t exactly conducive to productive practice sessions. 

As you retrieve your violin from your locker and make your way to the practice room, you feel like you’re preparing yourself for your own undoing—every scale, every tick of the metronome—another step towards your demise. 

It shouldn’t be this serious, but the pitter-pattering of your heart says otherwise. You glance at the clock. It’s time. You pack up now, so you have a couple extra minutes to wait solemnly outside of her office, staring at the posters that advertise the professionals who come to perform concerts at your college. Next week, a pianist and violinist duo is coming. In the picture, they’re smiling proudly next to a Steinway piano. They look proud of themselves. They probably don’t feel like they’re allergic to the stage, probably live for the audience’s applause. That’s probably how they ended up there on the poster, after all. 

Your violin teacher isn’t scary. She’s a homey, lovely old woman whose wrinkles come from a lifetime of smiling. She’s the type to bring you sweet, homemade pastries that are almost as warm as her hugs during the toughest parts of the semester. Which makes the moments when she’s unhappy all the more painful. It’s not her fear that plagues you, but disappointment. 

The door clicks open, and you have no more time to ponder your failures as a musician. You gather your things and head inside. Nothing inside her office has changed since the previous week. The same teetering stack of well-loved method books sits on her chair, the same humidifier whirring steadily in the corner, the same Dr. Kim Hyung-Seo sitting on the piano bench. 

“Good afternoon, y/n! How’s the Bach coming along?” She asks, like you haven’t spent the past week treating this piece like your mortal enemy. She takes a sip of her warm chamomile tea, from the same snowman-shaped mug that she’s used every week, because she is that endearing. In another life, she would probably be your grandmother. 

“Good morning. Ah, you know…” You trail off and gesture into the air, trying to hide your grimace. How could you possibly describe the unease and unsureness around performing without crossing some kind of professional boundary? 

“Let’s hear it, it’s okay. Are you all warmed up?” You nod as you unpack your things again. As you move to put the Bach score on the music stand, she tuts. 

“Didn’t we agree that this would be memorized last week?” Dr. Kim flips through her lesson notes, inky blue scrawling over the pages. “Yeah, it should be memorized. Close the score, darling.” Usually, when Dr. Kim calls you darling, warmth unfurls in your chest and you beam. You’re not feeling particularly warm right now. 

“Ah, okay…” With slow reluctance, you close the score, the plain paper cover mocking you. You lift your bow to your violin, and shut your eyes. You don’t want to watch this. 

~

Yoongi (4:38pm): Hey 

Yoongi (4:38pm): wanna study tonight :] 

If there’s anything Yoongi is good at, it’s having perfect timing. You half-walk, half-run out of the music building, sucking frigid air into your lungs. The cold weather seems to force the tears back into your eyes. If there was ever a worst-case scenario for how a lesson could go, then that was what just played out in the music room. 

Shutting your eyes won’t stop the barrage of images, playing the world’s cruelest slideshow behind your eyelids. Your teacher’s pursed lips, the still fingers clasped over her mug, the pinched brow. 

“y/n, we don’t have much more time to clean it up…” Her words echo in your head. “We’ll try again next week…” The disappointment was the worst thing, the downward tone in her voice. “I expected better…” 

You (5:15pm): maybe 

You (5:15pm): what time? 

  Yoongi (5:20pm): like now 

Yoongi (5:23pm): are you busy? 

  You (5:25pm): no I just finished up a lesson 

You (5:26pm): i’m about to study in the library if you want to join me 

  Yoongi (5:30pm): I don’t want to go to the library :( 

  You (5:31pm): why not 

  Yoongi (5:32pm): if I feed you dinner will you come to my apartment 

Yoongi (5:33pm): I really don’t want to walk to the library it’s too damn cold 

  After all, the best way to a woman's heart is through her stomach.

  You (5:35pm): fine 

You (5:35pm): it better be a hell of a dinner 

  Yoongi (5:36pm): of course it will 

Yoongi sends you his location, and you’re walking as fast as you can through the campus to make it to his apartment before you can freeze your fingers off. 

~

Yoongi’s expression is nothing short of scandalized when you show up at his door. It’s a typical mouse hole apartment, his front door identical to all the other ones that you’d passed to get here. 

“You’re not wearing gloves? In this weather?” 

“I don’t have any…” You rasp out. You’re tired. Your throat hurts from trying to hold tears back during your entire lesson, and you have no spirit left to give Yoongi an innuendo-laced comeback. 

I expected better. 

“Oh my god, you’ve been playing violin for how many years and nobody ever told you to wear gloves when it’s cold?” He leads you inside, the warmth abating the cold that’s wormed its way underneath your clothes and into your bones. 

“For God’s sake, y/n, hasn’t anyone ever told you about the importance of blood circulation?” Yoongi clasps your hands between his, rubbing and blowing air on them to warm them up. He doesn’t notice your surprise amid his chastising, muttering something about common sense. You don’t try to keep your guard up this time, just trying to bite tears back at the mention of musicianship. The firm press of his hands grounds you. 

“There.” He smiles, proud of himself. “Warm now?” 

Oh yeah, you’re definitely warm. In every dimension of the word. But you don’t tell him that, so you settle for a weak nod. 

“You can put your stuff there. I’m hungry now, let’s eat first?” You hum in affirmation as you settle your heavy backpack on his cramped couch. 

It turns out that Min Yoongi’s idea of gourmet cooking is heating up two freezer-burnt Hot Pockets while you watch him putter around the tiny kitchenette. This is the first time you’ve ever seen him without his glasses, and this is when you finally internalize that Yoongi will always look good no matter what he does or wears or says. 

“You made it seem like you were cooking,” You say, just to fill the silence. 

“Uhhhh, I don’t know who told you I was capable of cooking, but they were wrong. I can show you a good time in other ways, no?” 

You snort. 

In hopes of saving time, he microwaves both of Hot Pockets at the same time. You silently bristle at the fact that even your dinner is getting more action than you are these days. 

You and Yoongi eat together in his tiny living room, sitting on mismatched stools.  

“How did your lesson go?” Yoongi says, more focused on eating than on you. 

“Oh…” You set your Hot Pocket down, sighing in defeat. The image of Dr. Kim sitting behind the piano bench, her dissatisfaction like a noxious cloud. “I… I…  got ripped apart. I’m a little behind with preparing for the Bach festival, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing I do or prepare will make me less stressed about it.” You slump onto the counter, recounting all the things you did wrong in your lesson today. I expected better. 

“What’s the stress about? We still have over a month, right?” You’re suddenly jealous of Yoongi. His nonchalance, his seemingly constant reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

“I’m not worried about that… just, no matter how much I practice, I’m gonna fuck it up on stage.” Your forehead pinches in frustration. 

“Are you that nervous?” 

“I’ve always been this nervous. For any performance. I haven’t performed alone in a while… and you know. It’s Bach, and everyone expects me to do some amazing job, and it’s like, I don’t know if I can deliver that and-” Yoongi eases his hand on your shoulder, calm, reassuring. He looks concerned. Like he cares. Like a friend. 

“When was the last time you played something just for the fun of it?”

“I don’t know, maybe my freshman year? I used to arrange themes from movies.” 

“We should work on something together, just for fun. We’re such a perfect instrument combo, there’s so much repertoire for violin and piano.” 

“What did you have in mind? Do you even have enough time for that?” (You know you don’t have enough time for that.) 

“It doesn’t even have to be a difficult piece. It could be something easy or hard, I don’t care.” Yoongi ponders his next words over a bite of his food. “I… I... just want to see you less stressed out. And music should always be fun, not just for a grade. What kind of music would you be making if you weren’t happy?” 

“I don’t know…” 

“I know this one Brahms piece that I think you’d like. Totally fits your vibe. We can just work on it slowly, you know? Or we could arrange the Anpanman theme song, I don’t care.” 

~

“I think I’m mostly good for the midterm, except for the composer dates,” Yoongi spins around in his office chair, dragging his feet on the ground. 

“Me too,” You say, as you drink in the sight of his room. For someone who claims to abhor studying and all things academic, Yoongi appears to be quite the organized student. Despite the constant claim that his education is merely a necessary evil, he keeps his notes organized in uniform binders on a well-cared for bookshelf. The bookshelf is adjacent to the extremely detailed wall calendar, marked full with due dates and deadlines in pens of various colors. 

He runs his fingers over the binders to locate the binder allocated to the species counterpoint class you’re taking together. 

“I already have flashcards for everything before the Romantic Era, but I’m so fucked for everything else.” 

“Why not just use Quizlet like everyone else?” You say. You eye his neatly made bed and the Kumamon stuffed animal shoved hastily underneath it. 

“Back in my day, we used flashcards like cavemen,” Yoongi reasons, despite the fact that your birthdays are months within each other. “And besides, they feel better in your hand.” Of course, they’re indexed by color and musical era. 

~

“Ugh, I hate sitting at my desk. My back is starting to hurt,” Yoongi says, despite having worked for about ten minutes. “Do you want to lay down?” He pats the fluffy comforter adjacent to him. Yoongi doesn’t wait for your response however, plopping down on the bed with an audible thump. 

“Okay, old man,” You jibe, but you’ve also been sitting for a majority of the day. Your back is aching too, but you’ll never admit it to him. 

Sometimes, at times like these, you wish you could just muster up the courage and stop playing this game of cat and mouse with him. When you lay on his sheets that smell like him, quizzing each other, you wonder what would happen if you confessed your feelings for him, right then and there. 

Or outlined exactly how exactly you would take his cock in your mouth, given the chance. Other times, you consider the fact that he might like to play with his food before diving in. Whatever it was, it scared you, the unease climbing up your spine and staying put. 

You wonder if he understands the implication of you so casually lounging on his bed, but then you realize that you likely don’t exist in the realm of romantic possibilities for him. He likely sees you as the nerdy, sexless violinist that spends all her time slaving away in the practice room or the library. That’s why you’re here, after all. To help study for the midterms coming up. “Being friends with him is better than nothing,” you tell yourself, but you can’t really bring yourself to believe it. 

You don’t remember, or at least don’t care to, when Yoongi started touching every aspect of your life. It’s really only been a couple of weeks since the two of you started studying together. You don’t dare to imagine how much of your thoughts he would occupy if you continue your friendship into the coming months. If your crush of massive proportions was bad before, it’s truly out of hand now. It certainly didn’t help that he actually knew you existed now. He spammed you gifs of baby animals while he was on the way to class, texted you links to performances of pieces that he was working on. He even began to send you teasing texts on the mornings that he made it to the practice rooms before you. 

Every experience you have is colored by thoughts of him. The coffee that you drink like ambrosia conjures up images of him sitting across from you in some far-off sunlit cafe, laughing at all your jokes. On the nights when sleep escapes  you, you lay awake rehashing over and over what you had said to him on the previous day. You even fall into reveries when he’s sitting there right next to you. 

 It’s inescapable, especially with the Bach Festival looming over your head. The more time you spend in the practice room, the more you go back to that one fateful night. You can still see the image of him now, sitting before the piano, playing Chopsticks. 

You both make your way through the fat deck of flashcards, Yoongi quizzing you first. 

“J.S. Bach?” You note to yourself even the upswing in his voice was cute. How did you ever let yourself get so whipped?

“1685 to…” You falter, still stuck on his voice. Even his voice drives you crazy. 

“Come on, you should know this.” He drives his point home by poking you in the side, and he likes the gasp that you make. 

“1750.” Of course you know Bach’s birth and death dates by heart. You see it every time you open up your score. Even the scant prod he gave you in the side, over your clothes, is enough to make your skin heat up. 

“And if you ever tickle me again, you won’t live long enough for midterms,” You threaten, but your harsh tone of voice doesn’t reach the light in your eyes. 

“Brahms?” 

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know. 1832 to?” 

“Wrong.” He sets the cards down next to him, looking at you in mock disappointment. In an instant, he attacks you with tickles, and your efforts to bat him away are fruitless. 

“This-this is what you get for not knowing when Brahms was born! Learn through punishment! 1833 to 1897, remember that next time!!” He collapses on top of you, burying his face in your neck, unrelenting. Yoongi sounds almost gleeful in your torture. 

You writhe under his touch, and for all the wrong reasons. 

For the first time in your life, you’re almost glad you’re ticklish. Your eyes roll back into your head, not of your own accord. It’s too much, the soft skin of his cheek pressed up against your neck, the warm weight of his body against yours, the way his legs cage you in. A moan slips in between your helpless giggles, and Yoongi doesn’t miss it. 

“Uhhh, what was that?” He doesn’t stop, merciless in his advance. “I didn’t know you liked tickling… like that.” He’s teasing you, now. He can’t hide his pleased grin. 

Between gasps, you manage to pant, “I… don’t…” 

“Then what? Tell me.” That’s when Yoongi relents, leaning back. He continues to straddle you, because he’s cruel like that. (And because he likes it too.)

“You’re just… ugh, I don’t know… so close.” In Yoongi’s eyes, you’re a study in debauchery. From your struggle, your hair is mussed, the hem of your shirt awry. Your cheeks are flushed, from embarrassment or from the tickling, you don’t know. Your chest frantically rises and falls, trying to regain your breath. 

You, on the other hand, feel fucking ridiculous. Contrary to popular belief, being on the recieving end of tickling is fucking physically exhausting. 

Yoongi is stuck on the hot and bothered look on your face, except for the hard look in your eye. You despise being tickled, even if it is Min Yoongi doing the tickling. He wonders what you’d look like if you were underneath him in… different circumstances. 

Would it compare? 

“I… I… I just…” You avert your gaze now, hiding your face behind your hands. You can’t stand to look at him right now. 

“Spill it, or I’ll go back to tickling you until you break.” He grabs your hands away from your face, pinning them next to your head. 

He really isn’t going to make this easy for you, is he. 

This is overwhelming. The eye contact is too much. The weight of his hands on your wrists, holding you down, is too much. The way his panting breath tickles the skin beneath your collar is too much. You’ve had a bad day, the voice in the back of your head whispers. He makes you forget how awful this semester has been. He makes you feel better. Make this day easier on yourself. Just give in. 

There’s no hiding it now, you concede. 

You shut your eyes, unable to face him. “It’s just… been a while.” 

“Uh-huh. Continue?” He places his hands back on your stomach, as if in warning. 

“Since uhhhh… I’ve done… anything… with anyone…” Your words hang heavy in the air. Your secret is out. 

He laughs. He really has the audacity to laugh. 

“Shut up! I’m just like, touch starved, okay?” You’re definitely just blushing out of embarrassment, at this point. 

Yoongi starts to ponder if he crossed too far of a line, but you continue anyway.  You huff, indignant and desperate to cover your ass. This is not how you ever imagined telling Yoongi you were ever interested in him, sexual or not. 

“Not everyone is like, the campus pussy magnet and gets to fuck whenever they want,” You say. 

He rolls his eyes. “Okay, I’m not the campus pussy magnet. We’re... not so different. I haven’t been with anyone, um, in a while.” Now Yoongi takes his turn to blush and stutter. He does that thing he always does when he’s nervous, runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on the nape of his neck.  

“I find that hard to believe. No need to lie out of pity. Like, come on. Look at you. You’re all…” You gesture down his body, “And you have that whole vibe going on, and you’re tall, and you have good taste in cologne, and-and-and you play the piano , and ugh. You should know that by now.” You babble on. You’re not that good at keeping secrets, anyway. Might as well let the cat out of the bag while you’re at it. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but you’re not fazed. By now, you’re used to the long silences that elapse when you’re with him. You wait for him to talk first, just so you can discreetly enjoy the feeling of him straddling you for a little longer. You try to pass off the silence as you quietly fuming at him for calling out your lackluster sex life, but you’re really just trying get yourself together. 

Then he starts laughing. Again.  

“What are you laughing for now?” Your brow furrows in frustration. 

“Nothing, nothing, don’t be mad. I just didn’t think that tickling would be a turn on for you.” 

“It’s not!” 

“To be completely honest with you, you look like one of those really innocent soft girls on the outside but you’re actually like, into choking and have a secret sex dungeon.” He doesn’t seem to care that you’ve all but revealed your massive, terminal crush on him. 

You sigh, but you’re just glad he gave you something to fire back with. 

“You and I both know that the university dorms are too small for a sex dungeon, Yoongi. I can’t even have candles in my room. What sex dungeon is complete without candles?” 

“Oh, a devil in the details. The ambiance is important, I see…” That devious smile of his makes a comeback. 

“Oh, shut up. Give me the flashcards, four-eyes.” He relinquishes the flashcards, but he still continues to straddle you. 

“Woah, there’s no need to insult my glasses.”

You ignore him, desperate to move on from your momentary lapse in judgement. “Haydn?”

“1732 to 1809. What about music? Music must be important if you care about the ambiance. Answer my question.” 

You laugh to cover up how worked up you are. “Maybe you can find out after we finish reviewing. Scarlatti?” 

“1660 to 1725. What kind of music do you listen to? R&B, something sexy?” He sits up now, spurred on by your refusal to answer his questions. 

“Or do you listen to classical music then, too? Does Chopin get your blood flowing?” He’s being insufferable now.

You groan into the pillow. “Yoongiii, let’s focus.” 

“If it’s something like Liszt, I’m sure I have a couple recommendations.” 

Yoongi sits up straighter, waggles his eyebrows in a way you definitely shouldn’t find endearing. “Or, I could record something for you…” 

You snap. “Just, I don’t know, sometimes I listen to music?” Your attempts to stop the blushing are in vain, heat blooming across your cheeks and down your neck. It’s even harder to stop when it’s your embarrassingly short sexual history on the line. 

“I prefer dirty talk anyways…” You murmur under your breath, wishing he could just get the fuck off your case. The more he keeps talking about things like this, in that tone of voice, the harder it’s going to get to keep your ever-growing crush a secret. 

Still, some small part (let’s be honest, the monkey brain part of you) of you, the part of you that aches for him, wants to spur him on. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing! Nothing.” 

“Hmm… something about dirty talk?” Fuck, does Yoongi have a good ear. He smiles. He knows he’s gotten you now. 

Okay, you should probably admit to yourself that he’s flirting with you now. The touches, the holding you down, the insistence on pushing this tiny matter, it all adds up. And the math says that Min Yoongi is flirting with you. 

“Mmm, nothing.” You snuggle a little deeper into his bedsheets, playing coy.

“You know, like during sex? Don’t make me tickle you again, because I will stoop that low.” 

“I don’t remember saying that…” You mock-pretend to ponder his question, catch your bottom lip between your teeth. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his gaze fall downward. You know you’ve gotten him now. 

“Can you refresh my memory?” 

“Like… you know.” He shrugs. 

“I’m an auditory learner. Do you have an example?” 

“Hmm, let me think… I’ll tease you until you’re begging for me to touch you properly? Does that ring a bell for you?” 

“No…” You bring your hands to your face to cover up your blush, and because you can’t stand to look at him. Not when he’s talking to you like that, with that look in his eye, his hands on your body. “It doesn’t…” You laugh, even beneath his weight. 

He laughs. “I’m just teasing. You’re so cute when I get a rise out of you.” 

Oh. 

[obxhoe]

Leather and Lace || Rudy Pankow {1}

Lovers forever face to face My city your mountains Stay with me stay I need you to love me I need you today Give to me your leather Take from me my lace

(eek i’m nervous about this. hope y’all enjoy. message me if you wanna be on my taglist!)

CHAPTER ONE

ZOE’S POV:

Sophie’s alarm clock is blaring yet again after the third time she had snoozed it this morning. I can hear it in my bedroom… across the freaking hallway. I pad into her room,

“Soph.” No response. “Soph!” I whisper-yell. “Sophie!!!” She jolts up, ripping her eye mask off.

“I’m up. I’m up.” 

“I’m leaving in 20 minutes for class, I won’t be home until at least 11 tonight, I told Liv I would have dinner and a wine night at her place.”

“I’m probably sleeping at Aaron’s tonight so…” I raise an eyebrow at her. Aaron is this new guy she met over Bumble and the two of them have been seeing each other every day since their first date 3 weeks ago.

“Alright well have fun and try not to do anything dumb”

“You know I always do” I laugh and shut her door, walking to my vanity to quickly put on some makeup and grab my stuff. 

I’m about a quarter way through my senior year at NYU, and about a quarter away from an existential crisis. I’m not sure what I want to do with my life yet. Basically every single one of my friends have boyfriends and they talk about marriage and babies and all that shit. And it’s cute. But I’m fine on my own. My last boyfriend Peter always had me feeling suffocated. The constant “Babe” and “Baby”. The obligation of having to FaceTime someone all the time. Having to be around someone every minute of every day. I was exhausted all the time. Currently, I’m an international business major with a minor in accounting. Taking a full course load, and working a part time job in an accounting firm on top of that. I don’t exactly have time for anything else. 

I check the time and see that I’m running 5 minutes late. I slip on mom jeans, a giant t-shirt I stole from my dad years ago and run out the door. The walk to school is always my favorite part of the day. The West Village was my dream neighborhood to live in and once I saved up enough money from working throughout school, I finally was able to rent a tiny two bedroom apartment. I mindlessly scroll through social media as I speed walk to “campus”, it’s really just a few buildings in the city, there’s no open space or anything. Unless you count Washington Square Park. I pass the West 4th street subway station and my phone fumbles out of my hand as a result of someone walking straight into me.

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I say grabbing my phone and seeing the screen cracked. This is not exactly what I need at this moment.

“I am so sorry” I hear a voice above me, “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling. Oh my god!” He sees my phone. “I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.”

“Ok chill for a sec dude” I stand up brushing my hair out of my eyes. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.”

“Oh you’re not mad. I thought most people who live here have a stick up their ass all the time” He says, and I finally look up at his face. Those eyes, those fucking eyes. My breath catches in my throat as I realize I’m staring at him. Something about him looks or feels familiar but I can’t place my finger on it.

“Uh yeah most people are like that.”

“So are you not from here?” He asks “Cause ya know, you’re nice and stuff.” 

“Oh no I live here. I go to NYU, I’m actually on my way there now.” I look at my phone to check the time but I can barely see due to the cracked screen. 

“Uh it’s 9:0-”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me” I groan loudly, class started at 9.

“Late for class…?” he asks cautiously, not sure if he’s going to make it worse or not.

“Yes. I have to go, like right now.” I say starting to turn to walk away.

“Wait. Let me buy you that coffee so we can discuss the phone thing. Today isn’t great for me, how does tomorrow sound?” I nod and he hands me his phone. “Put in your number.” I quickly type in my information and hand him back the phone. “Well Zoe,” He says looking down at my contact, “I hope to see you later.”

“You too, I didn’t catch your name though.”

“Rudy. Rudy Pankow.”

“Well Rudy,” I look at him, flashing a small smirk “I’ll be looking forward to your text.” I turn and walk away as fast as I can. Of all the things that make me anxious, being late to class is pretty high up on the list. But I think the idea of meeting Rudy for coffee is consuming my mind more than the fact that I’m late is. I slip into the back of the lecture hall about 15 minutes late, luckily not drawing any attention to myself. I take out my notebook and try to take notes, but my mind is elsewhere.

RUDY’S POV:

I don’t know where the hell I am right now. Chase was completely wrong when he said the New York subway system would be easy to figure out. I have to go film a few interviews for Buzzfeed about season two and I’m lost. Totally lost. 

“West 4th street-Washington Square” The crackle comes over the speaker. 

“Fuck it” I mumble and get off. I can just take an Uber, so much for trying to get the whole experience. I walk up the stairs trying to order an Uber, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. All of a sudden I slam into what I can only hope is another tourist, the last thing I need is someone yelling at me for looking at my phone. 

“Fuck. fuck fuck fuck.” I hear a voice from next to me mutter.

“I am so sorry” Fuck. She’s beautiful, and I’m just straight up dumb. “I’m not from here, which I guess you can tell. Uh, I’m a little lost. I think? I’m not sure where I’m going or what uptown and downtown mean on the subways. Sorry, I’m rambling.” For fucks sake Rudy shut the fuck up. I look to her hand and see that I shattered her entire phone and my stomach drops. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Shit. I can get you a new one.” Yes good job. Just offer up an entirely new phone, that’ll help. I mentally smack my forehead. 

“Ok chill for a sec dude” She stands up, locking her eyes with mine. My eyes can’t decide where to look. Her eyes? her lips? She’s stunning. “At least buy a girl coffee before you offer up a phone.” My face turns bright red. I’m a fucking idiot. She’s running late and I decide to just shoot my shot. I shove my phone at her offering up coffee. A smile breaks onto my face when she takes it and types in her contact info. Zoe. 

“Well Rudy, I’ll be looking forward to your text” She smirks at me. God dammit I have never seen anything like her before. She spins on her heel and rushes away. I slide into the nearest taxi, not getting the chance to order an Uber. What the hell just happened?

ZOE’S POV:

I can’t get him off my mind. This isn’t like me at all. Usually I turn random men on the street down, I mean who doesn’t? What if this guy is a serial killer. God Zoe what did you do. Ok but he seems nice enough right? Ugh. I stare at my glass of wine, mind wandering.

“Earth to Zoe” Liv waves her hand in front of my face. I blink and look up.

“Sorry I’m exhausted. Too many unhappy clients today.”

“Uh huh sure.” She rolls her eyes and my friend Katie laughs next to her.

“What?!” I say, a little too defensively.

“Who’s the guy? You only ever act like this, all out of it and daydreamy when there’s a guy”

“There’s no gu-” I get cut off.

“Oh don’t even try. Who is he.” Katie slides next to me and pours more wine in my glass.

“It’s really no one. I met him on the street, he sort of smashed my phone. Well I guess I did. When he ran into me. And then he offered to buy me a new phone just like that. I was like well at least buy me a coffee first, you know, jokingly. But then he actually made a date for tomorrow to get coffee. He said he’d text me, but it’s been hours so I doubt it’ll actually happen. Probably is just being nice.” I mumble the last sentence. 

“A guy on the street?” Liv raises her voice.

“Are you crazy?” Katie says, setting her wine glass down a little too hard.

“I know I know. But something about him just felt familiar. Like I had seen him before or something. He seems our age, he had these insane blue eyes. I couldn’t stop staring.” I look down at the table. “I probably won’t even go, it’s a dumb idea.” 

“Dude, you’ll find someone. I promise. It just takes time” I look over to Liv.

“That’s the thing though. I don’t even want someone, I’m fine on my own right now. If I started seeing a guy, I wouldn’t have time for him, the two of you, work and school. I would literally have a mental breakdown.” I laugh. Part of me knows I’m lying. I don’t want a boyfriend, that part is true. But if that boyfriend was Rudy, I would have to reconsider. That’s crazy right? I’m definitely going crazy. I don’t even know this guy.

“Ok well let’s get drunk and watch hot boys on TV. There’s a show Liv and I wanted to watch on Netflix called Outer Banks. Have you seen it yet?” Katie asks me as she goes to the couch.

“I don’t have the time for that.” I plop down next to her.

“So that’s a no” She grabs the remote.

“I’m so fucking excited. I keep seeing stuff about the show everywhere, season two is coming out next week.” Liv squeals. Katie starts the show and I start chugging my wine so I can get a new glass. I choke on my wine and spit it out all over the ivory rug.

“Zoe! What the Fuck?!” Liv yells, obviously pissed I just ruined her rug. But I can’t stop coughing. I look back to the TV to make sure I’m not seeing things. It’s him, I could never forget those eyes.

“That’s him” I choke out, “That’s the guy who I ran into today.”

“Rudy Pankow? The guy on the TV right now? Are you sure?” Katie looks at me.

“There’s no way.” Liv shakes her head.

“I’m dead serious. That’s the guy.” My phone vibrates from across the room and we all look at each other. I run over to look at it.

Meet me at Think Coffee in SoHo tomorrow at 3pm. Apple Store right next door ;) -Rudy

“No. Fucking. Way”

Taglist: @pink-meringues​ @x-lulu​ @perkeusjackson​

[teruthecreator]

THS IS A ROBBERY 🔫YOUR ROLESWAP LORE!!! HAND IT OVER 🤲if u want 2 :)

just took my melatonin bc i have to wake up at 4:30 AM to drive 16 hours to my mother’s so i’m sorry if this becomes derailed but uh. here’s the roleswap lore! or, at least, everything i’ve decided (along with matthew and corinne bc the three of us tagteamed on it) 

gonna chuck it all under a readmore bc this is going to get long

so first off, just gonna run out in front and say i have no idea how this fits into graduation plot. i haven’t gotten that in plot consideration, given their character differences in comparison to their canonical selves. so, for the most part, it’s a lot of background establishment and character traits. but i do have a few plot bits that i’ve figured out bc i thought it was cool. why such a long preamble? i don’t know. help me

fitzroy maplecourt: 

first off, he’s not called sir!!! because he doesn’t go to knight school! 

my idea for his backstory is that the way he decides to grapple with his identity crisis/imposter syndrome (which he definitely Still has) is that instead of becoming a grander, larger than life version of himself. he just. goes the opposite.

not necessarily becoming a degenerate (bc he just smokes pot and that’s not bad he’s just vibing)??? but more just like. leaning into the laid-back nature of life that one might pick up from a lifetime in rural country. 

he goes to a liberal arts school a ways away and just decides to bum around and take life not seriously. he develops a pretty large group of acquaintances being a hippie stoner; he doesn’t really pursue a degree either. i think if he picked up any major it was probably like. an art major or an english but he basically fails most of his classes bc he doesn’t care! 

unlike his canonical counterpart, fitzroy doesn’t mind being called nicknames!! ones i think he has the most are fitz or roy, but basically you could call him anything and he’ll respond. that is because, instead of clinging to the concept of his identity bc it’s the only thing he feels he has, his identity is nebulous!! he doesn’t understand it and it scares him too much to be concrete, so he just lets people decide shit about him for him. 

his personal philosophy is more about floating through life and letting people assume shit about him than having a solid personality and backstory that people understand and recognize. it is a more dissociative way of having an identity crisis! how fun! he also barely talks about his past, and what he does talk about are cherrypicked points of his past that fit his narrative of being a casual down-to-earth hippie

 the moment that this all changes is when order decides to pop in and grant him powers!!!! wahoo!!!! here’s how that happens: 

he’s baked out of his fucking gourd in his dorm room, in the spring semester of his junior year. he’s alone (which is rare) and he’s maybe a little sad, but he decides to just ignore it. he looks at his table and laughs. “hehe, what if this table just. blew up?” he says to himself. it isn’t that funny, but he laughs. then he lays his hand on the table. 

the table blows up.

after that, he has magic!!! 

i’m going to go into detail a little bit later about how fitzroy’s magic manifests in the roleswap universe, but i wanna get through the backstory first. basically, he gets really freaked out after his magic comes to him because it is So New and Wow What and What The Fuck.

he realizes that this new addition to his character Completely changes how people who know him would perceive him (as a bum stoner chill guy), and he can no longer have control of his narrative with this magic business. so he drops out!

well, he actually just transfers. to a school far, far away where people will never know who he was and he can rebuild his narrative with this magic incorporated into it. he chooses wiggenstaff’s because he figures the school would have more of a knowledge of magic than his libarts school, which would mean he could understand why the fuck weed gave him magic (sidenote: it wasn’t weed, obvs, but he thinks this so for a while he doesn’t smoke!) 

he is now the chill hippie of wiggenstaff’s!!! most people like him because his personality is fairly easy to digest; some people think he shouldn’t be there, but he is! he starts out as a sidekick and he would’ve honestly been fine with that forever, but then he’s suddenly thrust into the hero track!!! wow!!!! i will also explain this with the magic. 

but yeah!! that’s fitzroy, for the most part. now we’ll move onto the other boy

argonaut keene:

he actually prefers if people call him argonaut, but he’s less likely to correct people than canon fitzroy Or canon argo. he’s a tad bit shyer in this universe!

argo’s backstory pretty much follows the same idea of his canonical background, but with some key differences that shape him into the character he is in the present! 

basically he still grows up on shebrie’s ship, surrounded by crewmates and the salty sea air. but his fascination with the sea doesn’t manifest into this swashbuckling lifestyle that he has in canon. 

what fascinates him more is the ship itself. how it functions, how water wears down wood, how directional currents can affect navigation. basically, he becomes invested in the sciences part of sealife more than the pirateering. he has special interests in marine biology, but his heart remains in nautical engineering. figuring out ways to make the ship run better, faster, and more efficiently consumes his childhood thoughts!

shebrie encourages her son’s craving for knowledge with tomes and books from all over the world about anything related to engineering and nautical things. he’s homeschooled, basically, but he becomes rather intelligent within a few short years! 

and then, well....shebrie dies. yeah we aren’t escaping that finality, sorry folks. that part of canon Still Applies.

after shebrie’s death (coughMURDERcough), argo is. traumatized! and he makes the decision to almost entirely sever himself from his life on the sea. it’s all too painful to look back upon--the times he spent studying with his mother in the captain’s quarters, rattling off dolphin facts as they sailed onward, dreaming of turning gears as the ship gently rocked him to sleep--and so he just decides to throw the whole thing out!

he can’t ignore his lifetime of education, though, so he continues to pursue it. with the remainder of money his mother left behind, he enrolls himself in a boarding school of science and technology, with plans to continue study in Only engineering. no more nautical Anything on his roster.

eventually, when he is old enough and graduates high school, he roams around...trying to figure out what to do. he doesn’t have enough money for college, so he can’t continue his scholarly efforts yet. he works around, job-to-job, city-to-city, and just notices how...delayed everything feels. like society is suffering under this slow pace towards innovation. 

and that’s when he decides his next course of action. if he were to discover the root of some problem and engineer a solution, he would be famous! he would gain notoriety and praise and--and all the things his mother had as a captain. but he would have it on his own, separate from his mother, and separate from his past. 

he figures out his next course of action: attend a school that will give his prestigious enough marks to be accepted onto a research team, find a problem, solve it, help the world, maybe earn a little bit of that credit and respect that would make him feel like he was doing his mother proud. 

the thing i want to emphasize here is that argo’s take on helping the world comes from that morality that canon fitzroy has. canon fitzroy wanted to be a knight because he wanted to fairly and justly instill ideas of “good” and “bad” onto the world. roleswap argo has a similar moral sense, but instead of establishing rules he wants to fix the “bad” and make it “good” in a technological/scientific sense.

the only school argo can think of that can get him that kind of notoriety is wiggenstaff’s. getting onto the HOG board would mean he’d have access to countless resources and be respected by a large audience, which would give him the opportunity to make change happen. even if he’s only a sidekick On Paper, what matters is that the diploma would give him the ability to Apply to the HOG. so he drafts a carefully worded letter for a scholarship and achieves a full-ride!!! epic 

like fitzroy’s magic, i’m going to break down argo’s relation to the unbroken chain after i get through backstory stuff. but trust me, I’ve Thought Of It

argo sort of blends into the background at wiggenstaff’s. or, he would, if his roommates/friends weren’t so Fucking Out There. fitzroy is enough to make him always be visible, but even the firbolg’s massive frame means eyes are always on him. which makes him nervous!! he doesn’t like the attention (as opposed to his canonical self, who revels in it for the self-esteem fuel) his insecurities manifest more in what he’s Doing rather than what he Is, mostly because his identity is barricaded by a wall of trauma repression

he’s still plenty funny and witty, just quieter. also he’s a lot Meaner than canon argo, at least to me. because if you irritate him he Will just completely shut you down with words. motherfucker doesn’t bark but he will most DEFINITELY bite

that’s their backstories, for the most part! in terms of how they interact together:

as established, they meet prior to wiggenstaff’s on a tinder date (during the grace period of argo working odd jobs and fitzroy about to be granted immense fucking power) and end up casually dating during the course of their wiggenstaff education. argo is a nervous goober and fitzroy just likes making him blush. it’s very cute.

fitzroy is still less inclined for the romantic than argo, who remains a steadfast absolute romantic internally. fitzroy still holds a lot of the self-doubt and distrust that canon fitzroy has, only it manifests in him not taking anything seriously! which means when he catches Feelings feelings he basically freaks out 

argo still falls in love really quickly, only now he’s more conflicted about it because being in love means trusting and trust means communication and communication means Oops Years Of Trauma Are Being Unloaded Uh Oh! 

now i’m going to touch on the big points that i find really interesting: fitzroy’s magic and argo’s relation to the unbroken chain

fitzroy’s magic:

chaos is not the being that grants him magic. it’s order! 

my take on what this means for what deity is on what plane of reality is that chaos is more Needed so they are the one that is physically On Nua, while Order remains in dreamscapes because they are already a constant amongst the tangible world. yes i know this directly contradicts the reasoning for why theyre Supposed to be where in canon, leave me alone i’m having fun. 

my reasoning for this switch is because chaos stands to be a contradiction to everything canon fitzroy has going on. he has a very strict, nailed-down understanding of himself and the world. everything he thinks is in black and white, bold statements, no questions, he follows rules and obeys the law. untiiiiil chaos gives him magic and shocks him out of that complacency. they lean into his inner impulses and that rage he’s kept locked deep inside. they allow for magic to Explode out of him, rather in calculated bursts or with intent. 

which is why order is more fitting for roleswap fitzroy!! because fitzroy, in this world, has less of a concrete grasp of himself and the world. he purposely lets himself be nebulous and goes with the flow. thinking of the future in real terms is not something fitzroy Does, he has no plans and that’s Fine. order seeks to give fitzroy a backbone, to put it simply. 

his magic doesn’t go impulsively out of him. it is calculated--it comes with thoughts and intentions. the reason it surprises fitzroy when the table blows up is because he didn’t think his thoughts or wants would amount into that, but that’s what order is trying to show him. that his intentions matter. that he matters and he has to Think and Focus and Be Here.

i’m still not sure if his power would manifest as lightning??? because the imagery for the lightning works perfectly for canon fitzroy because of the random power of lightning strikes. but for roleswap fitzroy it’s more like...thunder. like Purpose. thunder happens because of a reaction--it comes with intent. if differing air temperatures collide, it creates thunder. that combination is purpose + intent equating in magic. 

i think that part needs word bc like. how would one quantify thunder?? i think fire might also work really well because the idea of a controlled fire. like things have to Happen in order for fire to start, it can’t just appear like lightning can. 

order’s manipulation relies more heavily on the concept of boosting him up as a savior/hero, rather than boosting his ego and desire for power. fitzroy Has no desires in roleswap world--he’s just there. but when he gets put on the hero track, now he’s suddenly been given purpose. and order uses that to be like “wow, look at all these people who rely on you! look how important you are! don’t you want to use this magic for good?? to do good?? start a war with a demon come on pussy :-)”

OH YEAH also he becomes a hero in this universe (like in terms of tracks) because of the fact that it directly contradicts how he views himself. for canon fitzroy, it was showing him how much more he is capable of without the restrictions of morals (i.e, king fitzroy). but roleswap fitzroy doesn’t Have an image he wants to bolster! he doesn’t think he needs it and, frankly, he doesn’t care for it. the hero tracks carries with it all these stereotypes and expectations that now directly contradict his personality--thus showing him he is capable of more.

okay now for argo’s business jesus christ this post is so long and im NOT EVEN DONE WITH ALL THE POINTS I WANTED TO MENTION

argo’s relation to the unbroken chain:

so since roleswap argo has less of an association with his past (and, by extension, the memory of his mother), he is less inclined to join the mysterious cult that his mother was a part of. 

moreover, he doesn’t necessarily believe the shit he’s told??? he’s way more skeptical of jackal than canon argo is--immediately questioning why and how jackal knew his mother, and constantly trying to poke holes through his narrative.

generally speaking, if you try to talk to roleswap argo about his mother or his past, he Shuts Down. like completely. and that usually results in him snapping at you or just clamming up completely. mostly he just gets really snippy and angry because Hey Shut Up Dickhead I Don’t Want To Talk About It

a part of me still isn’t sure whether or not argo would take the unbroken chain up on their offer. but i also know that, plot wise and character arc wise, it is a necessary part of argo’s story. so i think, at most, he agrees but is extremely hesitant and might even let fitzroy on immediately once he’s given the task of digging into fitzroy’s life

also, they’re boyfriends in this universe, so how could he Really keep it a secret for that long. come on jackal, you idiot, you know they’re kissing. 

i think he’d Eventually warm up to jackal as a sort of father figure, but only after many nights of conversation and dancing around the subject of shebrie.

OH YEAH. this argo doesn’t know the commodore murdered his mother! important to note! he just assumes what he was told was true, that she sailed into dangerous territory and was ambushed. 

during the tribunal bit If That Even Happens In This World, i think fitzroy actually is the one who figures it out Before argo. and once argo does, well............fuck!

OKAY last little bit, just gonna talk about some random extra parts of the world that i’ve thought of already: 

in this universe, grey takes on higglemas’s identity instead of hieronymous’s!!! this is for good reason actually

okay so basically my thought was that, instead of whatever happened in canon yadda yadda dog time, hieronymous and grey are fighting and it’s a pretty evenly matched battle. there’s a cooldown moment where hiero thinks he’s safe but grey uses sneaky backhanded tactics to try and get the drop on him. 

only higgs sees it in time and saves his brother, taking the hit himself. he collapses, extremely wounded, and hiero rushes to his aid. he’s cradling his brother’s body, trying to keep him alive, when grey approaches to deliver the final blow. 

hiero is completely crushed and defeated and basically will let grey do anything to him by this point. the only thing he begs of is to let him live long enough to save his brother.

now, grey isn’t nice. let me make that clear. grey fucking SUCKS and the reason he agrees is because he wants a Real War with hiero and he can’t get that if hiero is basically like “if you let higgs die then you might as well kill me”.

so, grey agrees, and hiero ends up saving higgs by turning him into a cat. was supposed to be a temporary solution until he could find a better spell, but he wasn’t the magic guy in the duo. eventually, grey gets tired of waiting and decides to do some other shit. like turning the school the brothers have been running into a backalley place for demons!!

he takes the form of higglemas and leaves hieronymous locked in his office as basically a mascot. he’s like the queen and grey is the parliament--grey makes all the rules, but everyone assumes it’s hiero. faux-higgs is more on the ground, changing things and making the school a place more fitting for an eventual war. he builds up the concept of heroes and villains being Real, in the hopes he can sway some mortals to his side when he’s able to open a portal to hell. 

hiero still tries to stop this from happening, but his pride and his self-image is wounded by what happened. he feels guilty and puts the blame entirely on him, instead of doing the whole cowardice route like higgs did in canon. he gets people to help him eventually, via mind control and all tht jazz. 

also in this universe, buckminster is the one who gets birdified instead of leon!! has to do with my leon/buckminster and higgs/hiero narrative parallels that i’ve thought of for far too long.

firbolg is exactly the same in this universe. it is hard to swap three people and i didn’t want to think about him. 

fitzroy doesn’t pick a grab. i think he’d rather a lizard, like a bearded dragon. he names him something stupid. like scaly. or kyle. 

uhhh yeah!!! i think that’s....everything i’ve thought of so far!! lemme know if you wanna hear my takes on any other elements in the roleswap world!!!!

[talesfromlissom]

- Teeth -

A/N: Hey everybody, Omens here. This series is part of my series for the (Y/N)’s. These works are here to establish the backgrounds, personalities, and such of each of my (Y/N)’s, as they’re all separate characters and not a blank slate. 

So far, I’m doing my three most popular requested ones which are; Hanzo, Mcree, and Genji. This is Mcree’s. I’m sure these works will have about 3-4 chapters each, with the first being the beginning of their life, to the last being present time. That being said, you don’t have to default to these (Y/N)’s either. If you have a request that’s specific like 

‘Mcree with an S/O who has a body like Genji?’. I will easily do that. These (Y/N)’s are just the default if you request something vague such as ‘Mcree goes on a date with (Y/N).’ and such. 

However, I do have placeholder names for each of these characters. If you would like a request with this specific (Y/N) you can use (Y/N)!Ambrose. Sorry if this was confusing but :)

                            |  Chapter 1 - Route Around |

Chapter Summary: (Y/N) Parkiston, like many children, lost his parents during the first omnic crisis. Travelling between foster families, (Y/N) is convinced that this one will be the last, but he ends up meeting a friendly face instead. 

!WARNING! This work contains, graphic dipictions of violence, foul language, and other sensitive topics. Reader discretion is advised. 

                                              ──•~❉+❉~•──

Rules

Overwatch Masterlist 

Ninjago Masterlist

The Arcana Masterlist

Ask Box (Requests are CLOSED!) 

                     “They broke my wings, but forgot I had claws.”

                                                               ~💮~

Life has never been easy for (Y/N) Parkiston. From losing his parents, to losing his found family, (Y/N) has grown tired of losing so many things. So he thinks back on these crucial moments of his life, just as one of the most important figures of his life stands on his doorway, practically begging for him to come back. To stay. And to not run, like the coward he was.

!WARNING! This chapter has mentions of foster care system, loss of parents, death, and violence. Please proceed with caution.

It was a common story. Omnics arose and waged war on humans. Human children lost their parents. The orphans were either kidnapped and never seen again, or taken to rough orphanages, as the foster care system could barely handle the amount of children anymore.

You were one of those orphans. You hadn’t been kidnapped yet. But you were sure you would be. The streets of Rome were a dangerous place for a scrawny 8 year old like yourself. Sure, you weren’t homeless like some other kids that managed to escape this god awful system. But you weren’t exactly in the best place either. 

Even as you were sent across seas in hopes of finding you a family, your view on the world was still bleak, and only became bleaker as you got older. 

You were now 14, a fresh new foster family that you knew would only tolerate you for two months, and a new school. The school was new, there were kids all over the place. All of them give you strange looks. You missed Greece.

As you walked down the halls with the various bandaids that littered your arms, and face. Your lower lip pouting, and your dark green eyes darting along the halls. Your hands harshly grip your backpack. The bell rings, and the hall is quick to empty, and you soon find yourself at the principal’s office. 

You sit down in the chair, your bag being slung onto the floor as you pull your phone out and pick up that new game you installed a while ago. 

“Is that angry birds?” 

You raise an eyebrow, and wonder how exactly you missed the kid sitting next to you. The kid with bright aqua hair for that matter. The kid grins, and you almost laugh because he’s missing one of his front teeth. 

You nod your head, going back to the game. 

“Cool. My favorite is the big red one.” He says. Your gaze falling onto him again, as you wondered why this kid was still trying to talk to you. 

“I’m Holland, what’s your name?” 

You don’t reply. Your voice seems caught in your throat. Instead, you grab your backpack, rip out a piece of paper and take a pencil, writing your name on it before shoving it into his chest. He reads it.

“(Y/N), huh?” Holland asks. “That’s a nice name.” 

The door opens, and Holland freezes.

“Uh...hey mom.” 

The woman, who you assume is Holland’s mother, groans. 

“Oh, you must be (Y/N). here, come in.” 

You stare at her blankly. Her smile is soft, her eyes don’t bore into you like most of the eyes that you’ve seen fall onto you. 

“I won’t bite. I promise.” She chuckles. 

You shove your phone into your pocket, and sling your bag over your shoulder as you walk into the room. She pulls the seat back for you, and you sit down, as she sits down behind her large desk. 

“So, your (Y/N) Parkiston. I’m Jill Clyde. But you can call me Miss Clyde if you’d like,” Jill says. “I’ve heard alot about you.”

You pause, fidgeting. 

You hear a creak, and it seems that Jill hears it as well, as you see Holland poking his head into the door. Jill gives him the look, and he quickly shuts the door and goes back to minding his own business (hopefully).

That doesn’t stop your heart from pounding inside your chest however. 

“I understand that you have difficulty...speaking...is that correct?” 

You don’t move for a minute, but soon, you slowly nod your head.

“Alright, I’m going to have you meet with Mrs. Holway for the time being. So you can at least be able to speak enough so you don’t have to nod your head all the time..or write your name down on paper.” 

You don’t reply. 

“You are also being exempt from any work for the first and second quarter. So you won’t have to worry about any make-up work.” Jill says. 

You hear a buzzing noise somewhere within the green room, before Jill reaches under her desk and hands you a paper. 

“Here’s the list of your classes. If there are any classes you want to change you can talk to me or Mrs Holway.” Jill says. “Class starts in ten minutes, and I believe you have your first period with Holland. I’ll tell him to give you a quick tour before you two head to class, alright?” 

She gets up from her chair, and opens the door for you. 

“And if you need anything just let me know.” 

You step out of the room, and come face to face with Holland himself. 

“Holland?” Jill asks, before Holland straightens up.

“Yeah?” 

“I’m assuming you heard everything, correct?” 

Holland heistates. “Uh...no.”

Jill gives him the look again.

“Yeah.”

“Good. Have fun you two.” 

Holland pauses.

“Aren’t you-”

“We’ll talk about why you’re waiting outside my office when we get home, young man. Just you wait.” 

Holland groans, as the door is shut behind you two.

“So, a tour huh?” Holland mutters. “Ugh.” 

“Here let’s go to the library first, I can probably print out a map of the school.” 

                                                             _

The years had flown by faster than you thought. You and Holland always got into some sort of trouble, good or bad. At this point you ever considered him a friend. Your foster parents didn’t seem to care about any of that. For a moment things seemed so perfect. You were happy, you felt as if you belonged. 

Hell it was funny that you two had even chose to go to colleges near eachother. Holland wanted to be a doctor, and you wanted to be a historian.  

So how exactly, you wondered, as you stared down at the body that twitched beneath your feet as you heard Holland gag in the background and mutter something under his breath. 

How exactly did you and Holland take out a man with razor sharp teeth who you had just seen suck a woman dry of her own blood? 

[thequeendesi]

Shit y'all need to acknowledge

Johnny isn't some small "uwu baby"

He's 16 years old

He can hold his own in a fight

He killed someone

He is a minor

He once got beaten by a board and didn't cry

Just bc he expressed remorse for murder, doesn't make him any less of a murderer

"But Des! He was just defending himself and Pony!" That is true, however, it doesn't change the fact that he is one, and you guys need to stop fucking acting like all he does is cry and is a "smol uwu baby". He isn't some stutter-y fool who can't speak up for himself. He stood up to DALLAS. He stood up to the SOCS. He saved CHILDREN. Johnny is so misinterpreted. He's SOFT SPOKEN, He is not DEFENCELESS.

Ponyboy is NOT a cry baby.

He is a 14 year old boy who lost his parents and then saw a DEAD body right in front of him

Ponyboy is a CHILD

Please read that one again

Ponyboy is a child who lost 4 people in less than a year

Who would most likely deal w ptsd.

Ponyboy can also hold his own in a fight.

The reason why pony thinks everyone hates him; HES A KID DUDE. Everyone gets that feeling.

"But Des! He cries a lot in the book :(". You tell me that you wouldn't cry after being an orphan raised by your eldest brother who is under so much stress that you think he hates you, lose your parents in a car crash, near 'bout fucking drown than like 30 minutes later see that person dead right next to you, lose your best friend right in front of your eyes, and then witness someone's suicide. The kid is going through the motions. He can't even remember to keep both of his shoes on, he has a nicotine addiction, and had to go to court to pretty much testify.

Dallas is literally a criminal at like 16ish years old

He fights

Steals

Harasses women

He terrorizes kids

All for the hell of it

He got locked up at 10

He isn't some good guy, he is a TERRIBLE person

"Uh, Des, He gave Johnny and Pony a place to stay when they went on the run, he obviously is a good person." Ok, no. Literally. No. He gave them a temporary place to go while they were on the run for murder. He gave a child a gun. He literally kept trying to get into Cherry's pants after she told him no. That is nOT ok. You guys need to stop glorifying Dallas as this hero who saved the day. Dallas is CANNONLY terrible person; he bullies kids, harasses women, breaks peoples bones for fun, steals and tried to rob a man at gun point. How bad of a kid could you be to get locked up at 10??

Soda is a high school drop out.

And he isnt better than Sandy

He flirted with other chicks

He made inappropriate comments to women

Soda's pretty much only talents are being "pretty" and "good at cars"

He isn't that smart. It's literally canon. And he's also a child at 16.

"But Sandy cheated Des!" In the book, i dont remember where it said Sandy cheated. I know she ran away to Florida. But the whole cheating part i dont really remember that. It's pretty much speculation people made to peg Sandy, a woman only mentioned like ONE or TWO TIMES, a villan. Soda isn't that much better if she even did cheat anyway. Soda regularily called women names, cat call, whistle, flirted. Pretty much was unloyal in different ways. Soda isn't that innocent either.

Steve doesnt fucking hate Ponyboy.

Steve isn't mentioned more than a handful of times anyway

Steve is pretty much described as Soda's best friend, who's gf's name is Evie, and "hates Pony"

He doesn't hate pony.

Coming from the eldest sibling with 5 younger, anyone would get annoyed if their friend's younger sibling would try to tag along everywhere.

He isnt a drop out, and is 16

Another child

Wow

"But Des. Pony literally says Steve hates him." And what i gotta say is; there are 2 sides to every story. Everything you guys say about Steve are pretty much speculation bc you want to villanize someone so bady. Steve is a child/teenager who wants to hang w his best friend and his gf, and his best friends gf without a kid tagging along. And i totally relate. It. Gets. Irritating. Stop villanizing Steve. Hes pretty much the best character.

Two Bit is a 18 year old alcoholic

Who pulls up girl's skirts at movie theaters

Does he even have a gf bc if he did he's definitely a cheater

Twobit is 18 and a jr in hs (wow just like my pos exgf)

He cares about ponyboy and shows it

He blames himself for pony getting sick (even tho that little asshole took a shitton of meds which isnt good)

"But Des! He-" nope. Shut up. TwoBit is a little shit too, he pulled a girls skirt up in public, does that mean him doing a bunch of good shit eliminate him humiliating that girl? Fuck no, he should pay the consequences of his actions. He isn't pure and innocent either, but he isnt a huge fucking dickwad either. He's just insensitive to women's feelings.

DARRY IS 20.

HE IS UNDER A LOT OF STRESS

HE'S BARELY PAYING BILLS

He's worried all the time, Ponyboy sleeping until the middle of the damn night in a fucking lot doesn't make it better.

Should he have slapped him? No. Do i understand on why he did? Yea

I have slapped the shit out of someone for saying something out of line. Ponyboy is a child, he doesnt understand the stress of being an adult, said something, and Dar lost it for a second.

"Darry abused Ponyboy!" No. He didn't. He did not abuse his brother, he provides the necessities, he smacked him ONE TIME. That is not abuse, maybe a small assault, but not abuse. And please refer to the fact, there is pretty much a cake in the fridge everyday that he makes. He works a job roofing houses, he takes care of a brother who dropped out of school and a brother whos going through a quarter life crisis. The man is stressed and tired. But he, of all people, doesn't deserve to be villanized the way y'all are doing. Quit.

"Cherry Valance/Sandy/Sylvia are a bunch of whores who cheated!" Yo, shut the fuck up. Cherry didnt even cheat. She talked to pony and then stopped. She had a reputation to uphold, shes a cheerleader, she has the ideal life. I completely understand on why she stopped, bc in all honesty i would have stopped too if my whole reputation was at stake. I did talk stop talking to a bunch of people bc my reputation and friendships were at stake. Shes also a kid.

Sandy is a teenager who made a mistake/choice if she did cheat. But running away from her problems is something a lot of people do. Ok. I know a lot of people who run away from their problems. Its pretty fucking common.

I DO NOT BLAME SYLVIA FOR CHEATING ON DALLAS. The man is in jail pretty much all of the time, he is bad with communicating his feelings, he's a fucking asshole. He probably cheated on her too, and treated her like shit. Don't villanize Sylvia and treat Dal like some victim of "bad gf syndrome" when they both made mistakes in the relationship.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @shysterek!

Read on AO3

*****

found you when i wasn't looking

Snow is falling in merry little drifts onto the soft twinkling lights of Beacon Hills. A charming town, filled with well-wishers and warmth for the holidays.

Derek scowls, watching the picture-perfect postcard outside his childhood bedroom window. He was originally going to be on a beach in Hawaii, except Boyd had just proposed to Erica and then suddenly a fun vacation with his friends seemed like the perfect recipe to be third-wheeling for two weeks, and Derek didn’t want anything to do with that.

So here he is, back in Beacon Hills with his dad insisting he fold his socks instead of downing drinks with colorful umbrellas. It’s only the first week of winter break, but the house is already filled with Hales. Too many of them.  Laura’s twins are in their terrible twos, Uncle Peter and Aunt Danielle keep sneaking off like teenagers, when in fact they have three of them, most of whom keep looming in the family room. There are cousins and their partners or dates and extra children and of course, Mom is reveling in all of it, with the tree and the decorations and the cookie baking and the filming and the asking and the hounding him about if he’s happy.

Derek is tired. He loves them. But he’s tired.

He throws the haphazard tied-together sheet out the window. Movies always made this look so easy, but the clumsy-looking rope doesn’t even make it halfway down the side of the house, dangling precariously. It doesn’t look all that stable either, and he eyes how it’s tied to his squeaky twin bedframe. Maybe he should tie it to the cot, too. Honestly. Expecting him to share a room with twelve-year-old Nicky is the worst.

Derek is thirty-three and runs his own successful business. He doesn’t need to be babied, certainly not from Mom, or to hear about her friend’s children in town or to be set up with anyone.

He’s had enough of these blind dates. It’s just too much. He’s just going to sneak out of his house and go get some coffee or something.

“Really?”

Derek spins around. Laura eyes him from the doorway, her eyebrows cocked high.

“You know she actually had a resume and headshot for the last one?” Derek asks, shaking his head. “I gotta get out of here. Please. I can’t take anymore of what’s next. Help me sneak out.”

“I mean, you could use the front door.”

“Mom’s entertaining the mayor and his wife and three kids.”

“Back door?”

“Peter and Danielle are hanging the mistletoe, and are, ahem, getting really into it. I’d really rather not.”

Laura makes a gagging noise. Derek agrees. “Well, I guess you should leave now rather than later; there’s going to be even more people arriving. You know how Mom is.”

Talia Hale only recently “retired” from being the mayor of Beacon Hills, but it doesn’t stop her from continuing her longstanding relationships with all the pillars of the community and backseat driving the new mayor.

“You think this will hold?”

Laura smirks. “I’m not going to tell you that because I want to see you try. Don’t worry, I’ll give you a good eulogy at your funeral.”

Derek rolls his eyes at her and grasps the sheet-rope, gripping it tight. He clambers out the window, holding it taut, and gingerly makes his way down the side of the house, mostly using the trellis and its leafy vines for footing and holding onto the rope for support. At about ten feet left to go he just makes a jump for it, flopping ungracefully onto the ground.

Laura is barely visible from the window as she’s buckled over in laughter. Derek gives her the finger.

A slow clap begins.

“Wow. Eleven out of ten.”

Derek whirls around.

There’s a cute guy standing in his backyard, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His soft-looking hair is windswept and dusted with snow,  and he’s wearing a knitted sweater emblazoned with “MAKE THE YULETIDE GAY.”

Suddenly Derek is hyperaware that he’s wearing an old sweater with coffee stains and ripped jeans. He stands up and attempts to dust himself off, but there’s no going back from having an attractive person witness you do something incredibly stupid.

“You didn’t see me,” Derek says.

The guy throws his hands up, grinning broadly. “Great. Excellent. Yes. No one saw anything.”

“Seriously, I just need to get out of here. My mom’s having folks come over all day, and it’s going to be like the baker’s wife’s niece’s cousin’s former roommate or something next.”

“Sheriff and his son, actually.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “You’re Stiles?”

Stiles clutches his hand to his chest. “Guilty as charged.”

Derek has heard stories about Stiles for years, but has never met him in person. He hears about him all the time, courtesy of being in a small town; the Sheriff’s boy got stuck in a tree, oh did you hear young Stiles got into Berkeley? He’s one of Cora’s classmates, and for that matter Derek always somehow always thought of him, like Cora, as a baby, even though she’s only four years younger than he is. Stiles has just existed on the periphery of Derek’s life, even though he interned for Laura’s law office for one whole summer and somehow managed to impress her, and Mom adores him because he once debated her for a whole hour about economics at her last holiday party.

Derek didn’t exactly have a picture of him in his head, but he was in no way prepared for hot.

“Right,” Derek says, stepping back.

Stiles finger-guns points at him. “Nice Space Balls reference, by the way.”

“Thanks. Happy to supply you with out-of-date movie references at any time.”

“Is that a promise?” And then Stiles fucking winks.

Derek stares at him for a long moment, as he tries to process. Was that a flirtation?

“Sorry, I just spaced out. I think I’m having a…” Derek makes a general wavey gesture that could probably mean quarter life crisis.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says. “I mean, I’m the one who tried to escape community politics and cocktails by trying to hop your fence. I failed, by the way.”

“Oh. There’s a stepladder in the shed.”

“Excellent. I’m right behind you.”

Suddenly Derek’s escape plan has a co-pilot. Stiles follows close behind as Derek yanks for the shed door and turns on the light. He feels around, but he can’t find the ladder anywhere.

“Need a hand?”

“Yeah, can you—”

Suddenly Stiles is pressed up right behind him in the tight space, and Derek is aware of the warmth emanating from his body. He tries to turn around, but only ends up face to face with him, their noses an inch apart.

“Hi,” Stiles breathes.

“Hi.” Derek doesn’t want to say anything else to break the spell. He spots the ladder right behind Stiles but doesn’t move.

Up close, Stiles’ eyes are warm hazel, flecked with gold.

Stiles coughs. “So, I know why I was escaping, but where were you going?”

“Oh. Um. I just wasn’t in the mood for a blind date. I have no idea who my mom is going to set me up with next.”

“Oof, yeah, I feel you.” Stiles blushes. “I mean, I actually am feeling— sorry, I can back up—”

“It’s fine,” Derek says, feeling his face heat up. “Here, the ladder is right behind you, I can grab it—”

Stiles shifts, letting Derek pass behind him, but there’s a tight squeeze and he trips over a rake, tumbling forward, falling right into Stiles—

They collapse into a heap on the floor, sending up dust, and Derek is right on top of Stiles. He scrambles for purchase on the floor to get up, but only manages to slip and mash his face right into Stiles’ firm chest.

Stiles bursts out laughing. “Sorry, your face— you’re so concerned! I don’t mind. You can lay on top of me all you like.”

“At least let me take you out for coffee,” Derek blurts out.

“Done and done,” Stiles says merrily.

There’s a long moment where they’re just looking at each other, and Derek can’t help smiling.

The shed door opens.

“Derek! Whatever are you doing in the shed, come meet the Sheriff’s son— oh.”  Talia Hale grins at them from the doorway.

“Oh. Hi, Mom. Uh— this isn’t—”

Stiles just waves from where he is on the floor.

Behind his mom, he can see the Sheriff, Laura, and a whole slew of cousins laughing their asses off. Derek just wants to disappear.

“I’ll let you get better acquainted then,” she says with a proud grin, closing the door.

Outside, Derek can hear everyone laughing. He’s never going to live this down.

“So. How about that coffee?”  

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch7

And Effect

Warnings for gore and emergency situations.

Word count - 2,463

~~~~Previous Chapter~~~~

___________

---Reader---

By the end of the hour-long group session, Kelly managed to make a clumsy outline of an airliner. A small victory, considering the fuss she made.

Who doesn’t like birds? Honestly…

But it wasn’t your place to judge, only to treat. The biases and preconceptions you carried could never be allowed to influence your work, not if you were going to be an effective behavioral psychologist. That was the plan. As long as you didn’t fuck everything up, it might still work out.

You smiled at Kevin as he led V away, the last patient to depart. His canvas featured a gravity-defying youth, panic-stricken and frantic as feathers drifted away from his disintegrating wings. A shadowy figure floated nearby, but the artist didn’t have enough time to add much detail to poor Daedalus. Probably for the best.

A sharp trill pulsed from your pocket. You fished out your cell and glared at the screen; only one person ever called this early.

“Hi, dad.”

Tinny rock music played in the background, laughter and conversation a clear indicator of where he was. Of course.

Here we go again.

“Hi, sweetie! It’s been a long time, how are you?”

Despite the fact no one remained to overhear, you still tensed and scanned the room. “Uh, I’m okay. At work.”

A raucous roar of delight; it must be trivia night. He never missed it. “Can’t you spare a few minutes for your old man?”

You pursed your lips and tilted your head, taking a seat as you surrendered. Once he got a few drinks in, there wasn’t much point saying no. He’d just call back until you answered.

“I guess. I don’t have long, though.”

“You still at the nuthou- oh! Silence of the Lambs!”

Another cheer. He must be doing well today. Where the hell was Peter? “You really shouldn’t call it that. It’s a psychiatric hospital.”

“Right, right, sorry. Any interesting kooks lately?”

You rolled your eyes. No matter how many times he asked, the answer never changed. Not that he’d remember it tomorrow, but it was the principle of the thing! “You know I can’t tell you. It’s illegal.”

The timbre of the music shifted, a new song blaring through the ancient speakers of his favorite haunt. You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. Not much longer, he always got distracted after a few minutes. All you needed to do was stay calm and not react when he inevitably said something rude or just plain stupid.

“Awww, you’re no fun! Can’t you find a loophole? You were always so good at that.”

There it is. I can always count on you, dad…

“There’s not really anything to tell, anyway. Even if I could talk about it, it’s pretty boring.”

Deflect, deflect, deflect. Wait him out and let him guide the conversation without letting him steamroll you. Never instigate or react emotionally, that only made him do the same. You could deal with your own feelings later, for now you needed to keep them hidden.

“C’mon, you work with crazy people! How boring can it be?”

You forced a dry chuckle from your throat. “You’d be surpri-“

A harsh chime screamed its fury before you finished speaking. You winced and almost dropped the phone; did you forget about a drill or something?

“Dad, I gotta go! Something’s up!”

You didn’t even try to hear his response. Emergency protocols already flooded your mind, the klaxon instantly sending you into crisis mode. There was no time to lose.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

The sleeves of your lab coat snapped through the air as you snatched the checklist and jogged to the door. Whatever was happening, the first step was always the same; taking a headcount.

The security gate stood ajar, unmanned as all personnel had far more important tasks than to push a button. Stepping through without so much as a pause threw the situation into sharp focus; this was no drill.

This is really happening.

Beads of adrenaline-fueled sweat broke across your forehead, eyes dilated and darting. The soles of your shoes slapped against the floor, faster and faster with every heartbeat. You took the stairs three at a time yet still it felt too slow. Never had the third floor seemed farther away.

Calm down, Y/N! You can’t afford to let panic control you right now!

By the time you reached the high secure wing, Aaron had most of the orderlies racing into position. Several patients already wore cuffs, obediently staying in a staff member’s line of sight. There was Jacob, under Rob’s watchful eye. Over there, Veronica and a pair of men in staff uniforms stared wide-eyed at the growing crowd. Someone was screaming, almost as loud as the alarm.

It was ordered chaos.

Where’s V?

The artist was nowhere to be seen. Kevin was conspicuously absent as well, maybe he was having trouble wrangling the sly bastard? What if the chaos triggered another episode? How would you get him out?

“Dr. Waras! What the hell happened?”

Kotomi. At least she was where she was supposed to be. Her dark eyes flew from one patient to the next, every limb frozen in sheer terror. At the alarm or the patients, you weren’t sure. Probably both.

“I don’t know yet! Is anyone missing?”

“I- I don’t know! I just got here!” she cried. Useless.

She squeaked as Oliver dashed past her, Ben barely a step behind. All around you, staff danced into position as if performing an intricate ballet. While fear featured heavily among the familiar faces, none but your best friend stood paralyzed by it.

God damnit, Kotomi!

“Get a hold of yourself, Dr. Ishida!” you snapped, glaring at her even as you marked off names on your list. “This isn’t the time to fall apart!”

She was shaking like a leaf, fluid gathering in her eyes at your harsh words. The blaring alarm drowned out the sound of her choked breathing, but the jolting motion of her chest laid it out for all to see. Another figure shoved their way by her and she flinched.

Fucking useless. I’m going to have to do her job, too.

“Fine, just stay out of the way!”

If she responded, you didn’t hear it as you left her behind. You had a job- no, two jobs to do. You didn’t have time to babysit her, she’d have to get through it by herself.

“Aaron! Talk to me!”

The hulking man gave one last command to whomever he was talking to and joined you. Not a hint of fear marked his face and you thanked your lucky stars Malphas had the foresight to hire a veteran for the position. He’d probably seen far worse than this, more than once.

“Right, we’ve got three missing! Kevin, Ken Sinclair and V, Mark and his team are on it! Everyone else accounted for and ready for evac!”

Shit, Ken too? No doubt he’s going to fight tooth and nail, probably thinks the cat made its move.

A full minute, already wasted. Not fast enough. “Keep me posted, I-“

The atrocious screech of the alarm vanished as red emergency lights flicked on. Your heart sank even as your ears rang. Red meant fire.

Where the fuck is V?!

Aaron’s intense grey gaze locked with yours, haunted with the knowledge of what might go wrong in the next few minutes. “We gotta go, now!”

“Right, start evacuating. I’ll try and reach the others.”

He nodded and started barking orders, waving his hands until the horde obeyed his commands. With each face that walked past, another check marked their names on your list. Only two patients remained blank.

Not good.

Malphas was going to eviscerate you.

---V---

He nearly laughed when the insistent wail began. That was faster than he’d imagined, how perfect.

“Shit, we gotta move!” Kevin said.

V rolled his eyes and kept pissing. Nature waited for no man. Besides, how much danger could he possibly be in? Ken couldn’t have done that much damage…

Remember, no detail is insignificant.

“Indeed,” the artist replied, answering both Kevin and Vergil as one.

With a final shake, he finished up just as Kevin’s thick hands gripped his biceps. The artist smirked but allowed the blundering fool to guide him from the bathroom, headed to the stairs and likely back to his quarters. Truly, Ken must’ve barely managed to trigger the alarm.

From the corner of his eye, he spotted motion. He turned to face it and took note; all the security gates stood open. Perhaps this was his chance? He could easily overpower Kevin and run, who knew if he’d get a better chance?

No, better to wait. I cannot afford to fail and I lack the knowledge to ensure success.

Kevin waved him through first, his watery eyes wide and watchful. No, he needed more information before making his move. For now, he’d cooperate and observe. As Vergil said, no detail he saw today was insignificant.

“Go down, we’re evacuating,” Kevin said.

A promising start. Where would they evacuate to, though? The courtyard? The parking lot?

The wail of the siren cut out and the fluorescent lights shifted, crimson security bulbs coming to life every few feet. He smirked; his favorite color.

Well, close enough.

“Shit,” Kevin muttered.

“What? What’s happening?” V asked. Any information the buffoon shared could only serve to aid his future plots.

“I don’t know, but those lights only turn on if there’s actually a fire.”

Oh, well done, Ken! I underestimated you!

He hummed and waited at the door to the first floor. A series of short clicks broke out from a speaker overhead and Kevin frowned. The artist raised an eyebrow and stared at him, a silent question locked in his gaze.

“That means the high secure patients are about to enter the stairwell.”

“And what of the other patients?”

Thick shoulders heaved in a mystified shrug. Unfortunate, it may have been fruitful to meet more of the potential tools…

The security door leading to the intake area stood open, not a soul to be seen as the two men progressed to the front door. It surprised V; where was everyone?

He found his answer mere seconds later as he felt sunlight touch his skin for the first time in weeks. A churning mass of people stood in groups amongst the trees, all color of scrubs mixed together as patients and staff found their proper spots. Voices called out names and he heard sobbing, a few peals of inappropriate laughter mixed in.

“Right, come on,” Kevin ordered, gesturing to the side.

They kept to the edges of the horde, never more than an arm’s length from the bland building. V noted that the first floor windows lacked bars, a weakness he may yet be able to exploit. Already, Ken’s gift bore fruit.

Kevin led him to the barren east parking lot and paused. “This is it.”

The artist hummed and panned his gaze. He hadn’t seen much on his way in, not from the back of the prison transport. Time to gather information. When he ultimately made his escape, he’d need a solid plan to leave the premises.

This had to be the guest parking lot; most of the spaces remained vacant. Towering oaks and firs stood watch on the fringes, a gravel path meandering through their ancient trunks. Through the heavy foliage he caught glimpses of stonework; a wall must wrap around the facility. Somewhere in the distance, the familiar whoosh of a busy roadway announced its presence.

“Here they come,” Kevin commented.

Indeed, a troupe of somewhat recognizable faces approached from the great crowd. There was Kelly, morose as ever. He didn’t see Ken or you, but there was that horrible woman he’d seen you leave with. What a treat it would be to peel her face from her skull and show it to her.

Soon enough.

Yet one face was achingly absent – where were you?

---Reader---

“Ken! Ken, where are you?”

You were running out of time. Unless you were willing to break protocol, you needed to evacuate in the next three minutes and join the others.

Yet you still couldn’t find Ken. Or Kevin.

Or V…

You pursed your lips and shoved the next door open, the last of the mid secure quarters. Nothing.

“Shit.”

Panic tugged at your mind as you turned toward the next door. It didn’t make any sense, none of them had any reason to be in the mid secure gymnasium, but you still needed to check. You were responsible for the entire third floor, every room needed to be cleared before you left.

I wouldn’t have to do this crap if they’d all been where they were supposed to be!

And damn Kotomi, she should’ve taken half the floor herself. Over thirty rooms, and you had a total of eight minutes to check them all. Absurd.

You froze as the gymnasium door creaked open under your palm.

“Ken… what did you do?”

His crumpled form lied on the stretching mats, facing the far wall. A metal bin beside him crackled, flames reaching over the lip. Another body lied near the weight benches, a barbell drenched in blood and brain matter beside it. The head was so crushed you didn’t know who it was, but the blue scrubs gave him away as an orderly. You sagged in relief, even though you still had no idea where V was.

Bile flooded your mouth as you forced yourself closer, avoiding the spattered gristle to take the fire extinguisher. The stench of death hung heavy in the air, feces and urine and that special scent only found in cadavers. You hadn’t smelled it in years, but it was impossible to forget. It was even worse than you remembered when mixed with burning flesh and smoke.

You didn’t spare a glance at Ken as you readied the nozzle and sprayed, white foam shooting out to stifle the fire. An acrid chemical tang tickled your irritated nostrils but you ignored it, keeping your focus where it mattered.

The moment the flames went out, you went to Ken. The orderly was obviously beyond help, but you tried not to think about that. One life might still hang in the balance.

Burns were far from your specialty, but even a child would know his arms were in bad shape. Black and red patches dappled his flesh, bubbles of pus and ichor already forming. Several fingers looked beyond repair, nails melted away and white bone glistening in what remained.

“Oh, no…”

You reached down and searched for a pulse, only daring to breathe once you found the rapid rhythm. He was alive.

For now… but where the hell is V?

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~