#star wars free him from your basement

[bloodbroox]

the heart of a rebel

prints!!! 💛 | ko-fi 🌖

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: Merry Christmas, Goofball

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Summary: Joe gets an extra gift at his family Christmas!

(Tiny part two to - Part 1)

Warnings: Fluff

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

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December 27, 2023

(Joe’s pov)

The past two days had been boring, empty, quiet, and all the negative adjectives.

I made the drive down to Athens today for Christmas with my family.

We were having it two days after Christmas to accommodate my brother’s having to go to their in-laws.

It was just going to be the same as last year, watching the kids play, and adult couples sit at the table while drinking wine together.

I fit in with neither group. So I either sat on the couch to watch a football game, or I'd sneak off to my old bedroom and play video games.

Whatever the plan ended up being, I was going to try to get away from this scene.

After all the grandkids opened presents from my mom and dad, it was my time to drift away from the group.

I grabbed a trash bag and gathered all of the wrapping paper and empty gift bags.

When the trash bag was full, I snuck into the kitchen and laid It by the backdoor to be taken out.

Once I did a quick look around and knew no one was watching, I opened the basement door, but before I could reach a foot out for the first step, I felt a huge hand on my shoulder.

Immediately, my shoulders dropped. I'd been caught.

“Not this year.” - Jimmy

I turned around to see my dad and gave him a sheepish smile.

“Sorry…” - Joe

“Don't apologize, son. I know it’s awkward since y/n can’t be with you.” - Jimmy

“Yeah, it really is. I don't fit in with the kids obviously, but I don't want to be the only adult in there without a partner with them.” - Joe

“Your mom and I are sorry for making you feel left out, so we got you an extra gift.” - Jimmy

“Huh?” - Joe

“It's on the front porch.” - Jimmy

I gently pushed past my dad and walked through the sea of people, making a beeline for the front door.

Out of nowhere, everyone fell silent, like they were anticipating my reaction.

After giving everybody a confused glare, I opened the door.

My heart stopped when my eyes fell on my extra gift.

“Baby?!” - Joe lept forward and grabbed you

I held her as tight as possible and spun her around, still trying to understand how and why this was happening.

“Hi, Joey.” - you giggled

Her legs were wrapped around my waist as I held her up in my arms.

“What are you doing here?” - Joe

I sat her back down on the ground, my arms never leaving her waist.

“You think I'm not gonna visit my boyfriend when he's in Athens? You were like thirty minutes away instead of two hours, couldn't pass on seeing your smiling face.” - you

“Shit, I didn't even think of that. I was so busy moping around that I forgot I was actually in Athens, where you are.” - Joe

She playfully rolled her eyes before pressing a long kiss to my lips.

Suddenly, there was a voice coming from behind us.

“I see you found your gift. Hi y/n!” - Robin

I smiled at my mom before y/n hugged her, they pulled away, and y/n said something to her.

“Thank you for inviting me, Robin.” - you

“Oh of course sweetie! He’s been walking around depressed like Eeyore from Winnie-the-Pooh all day. I knew you were the only thing capable of making him smile.” - Robin

y/n laughed and I felt myself blushing, not just from embarrassment but also from that gorgeous laugh.

“He loves you so much.” - Robin whispered

I know my mom attempted to whisper, so only y/n could hear… but she failed miserably, and I heard anyway.

“I love him too… so much.” - you told Robin

“Good.” - Robin smile

A few seconds of silence went by before my mom spoke up again.

“Well, I won't bother you guys… feel free to sneak off to the basement like you do every year, Joe. Enjoy your time together!” - Robin smiled before walking away

When she walked away, y/n and I embraced once again before I took her hand and led her toward the basement.

“Am I gonna see the iconic Star Wars room, Joey?” - you

“How do you know about that?” - Joe grinned

“I watch your interviews.” - you shrug

“Stalker.” - Joe scoffed jokingly

“At least I didn't ask a nineteen-year-old out when I was twenty-six.” - you mumbled

I stopped so abruptly that she crashed into my back.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Think I shouldn't have?” - Joe

“What? No! I was just joking.” - your eyes went wide

“Don’t joke about that shit! It's not funny.” - Joe

Grimacing when I realized I raised my voice, I watched y/n’s body language change completely.

“Sorry…” - you looked down

“Wait… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have raised my voice. I didn't mean to, baby…” - Joe

“It’s okay. I won't joke about it again. I was playing around and didn't think you'd take it seriously, but I should've known.” - you

“Can we just drop it? I don't want to argue right now.” - Joe looked at you with sincere eyes

“I’d love that. Can we just chill downstairs and cuddle?” - you

“I thought you'd never ask.” - Joe grinned

——

After an hour of cuddling and watching a movie, y/n and I went back upstairs to find my family getting the gingerbread house kits out.

“Oh, hell no.” - you mumbled

“We can go back downstairs.” - Joe laughed

“Can we please? I have beef with gingerbread houses.” - you

I laughed realizing she copied my line about dry ingredients from a few days ago, and took her hand to go back down to my room.

“Uncle Joe!” - Joe’s nephew

Turning around to see my little nephew, I wondered what he wanted.

“Yup?” - Joe

“Look.” - Joe’s nephew

The five-year-old pointed to the doorframe above me and y/n, where a mistletoe hung.

I looked at y/n with a big smile, and we both shrugged at the same time before leaning in to kiss each other.

Because I wasn't a fan of PDA, we haven't ever kissed in front of someone. Other than y/n’s family watching through the windows when I dropped her off.

But right now, as everyone whistled and watched us kiss under the mistletoe, I'd never felt so happy.

We pulled away from each other after a solid minute, with huge grins on our faces from ear to ear.

“Merry Christmas, baby.” - Joe

“Merry Christmas, goofball.” - you laughed

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Authors note: I felt like the fic needed a second part…. CHRISTMAS FICS ARE OFFICIALLY DONE.

This came from my own head! 🫶

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

[aristrocrat]

Scary Movie With Steve

summary: it’s your first time being left alone with the boy Robin introduced you to only a few weeks prior

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tw: cursing, sexually suggestive language

a/n: my requests are open. please feel free to send me any stranger things ideas :)

“I just don’t understand why he’s so adamant about hanging out with that guy! I mean, you know Eddie! He’s the guy that supplied the weed at our parties back in high school. He’s not exactly the best influence on these kids!” Steve huffed as he paced around your basement.

“Oh, come on. He’s not that bad,” You shrugged as you watched Robin rewind the movie she rented for you before the end of tonight’s shift. “Eddie’s actually a really good guy. The guy has a heart of gold. Plus, he loves the same things the boys do. If anything, I think it’ll do them some good to hang out with someone who shares common interests.”

“Did you miss the part where I said he’s a drug dealer?” Steve deadpanned, you shake your head as Robing made her way back to the couch. He shifted uncomfortably as a thought dawned on him. “Besides, how do you know so much about him anyway?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged.

“She spoke to him when he came in to rent Star Wars earlier this week,” Robin smiled. Your eyes widened as you shook your head, silently begging her not to say more. “Apparently, he’s cute and charming.”

“Does shaking my head mean nothing to you?” You deadpanned.

“Charming?!” Steve choked.

“Can we just watch the movie?” You sighed.

“And cute! Don’t forget about cute. She made sure to emphasize just how cute she thought he was after he left,” Robin smiled, looking over at your unamused face. “It’s slipping my mind now. What was it you called cute? His face or butt? You talked so much about both that I feel like I’m getting the story mixed up.”

“Dude!” You laughed. “Come on. Cut me some slack! He’s got the whole eccentric, cool, I-don’t-give-a-fuck thing going for him. What’s a girl to do?”

“Oh, my god! Not you too!” Steve groaned as he plopped himself in front of the couch. “I don’t even wanna watch this stupid movie anymore. I’m that grossed out.”

“That’s interesting way of saying you’re jealous,” Robin snorted as she walked towards to couch you sat on, placing her head on your shoulder as the movie began.

“Jealous? Me? Please,” He blew off. “I’m not the jealous type.”

You both giggled at the statement.

“What?! What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. That’s just a bold statement to make considering you pout every time we hang out without you,” Robin chuckled.

“Wha- No! I-.. That’s not the point of this conversation!” He snapped around, shifting his weight so that he could place his arms on your knees as he spoke. “Just because you find him cute doesn’t mean he’s not a bad influence. What kind of babysitter would I be if I wasn’t a little worried?”

“Okay, fine, Steve. He’s a bad influence,” Robin shrugged, miserably trying to hold back a smirk. “A cute bad influence. One that hides behind his hair when he flirts with Y/N and touches her arm when she giggles at his jokes.”

“Oh, come on! That’s such a typical dude move!” Steve frowned as he looked up at you. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for that.”

“Robin?” Your mother called from the top of the stairs. You silently thanked her for the interruption. “Honey, your mom’s on the phone. She said something about a family dinner?”

“Shoot!” Robin gasped, looking over at her friends. “I’m supposed to be home early tonight! Rain check on movie night?”

“Wait, but-“ Both you and Steve sat up straight as she grabbed her backpack and ran towards the stairs.

“I’m sorry! Bye!” She interrupted before she disappeared behind your mother. An awkward silence fell upon the room. Though you and Steve were good friends, rare were the times you hung out by yourselves. Even if you did, Robin was typically in the next room. She was your mutual friend, the glue to your friendship. Without her, it was just..

“So,” He pursed his lips.

“So,” You shifted uncomfortably.

“Uh,” He cleared his throat before awkwardly taking his arms off of your legs. “Do you still wanna watch the movie or..?”

“I mean,” You shrugged. “Sure, why not? I’m curious to see what she picked out. She told me it was a rom com,” You paused as creepy music began to play.

“Rom com, huh?” He asked, plopping down in the seat beside you and looking over at you skeptically. “What’s this movie called again?”

“I don’t know. She said it won an Oscar for best romance movie in ‘78-“ Your voice trailed off as a haunted looking house appeared on the screen. “That lying bitch.”

Steve threw his head back in laughter as you raised your knees up to your chest and hugged them. “I get the feeling you’re not much of a horror fan.”

“Really? What gave it away?” You asked sarcastically, making him laugh again. “What?”

“Nothing.. It’s just- you’re like the most fearless person I know. It’s kinda funny that you draw the line at horror movies,” He shook his head. “But, if you really don’t wanna watch it, we can just call it a night instead-“

“It’s cool. We’ve seen worse, right? I’m sure I can handle a little- OH MY GOD! DID THAT THING JUST RIP OFF HER ARM?!” You hid your face behind your knees and clenched your eyes shut. Steve dropped his head into his hands as he cackled at your reaction. “Jesus! I was expecting some build up or something before it got to the gruesome parts..”

“Here, I’m a pro at keeping girls calm during horror movies,” He scooted towards you and wrapped an arm around you. “Works like a charm every time.”

“Please don’t tell me this the same move you pull on all those movie dates you tell us about,” You scrunched your nose. “It is, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think you want me to answer that honestly,” He chuckled, making your eyes roll. “Come on, Y/N! We’re both adults. There’s nothing weird about me wrapping an arm around you. It really does help make the movie less scary. I promise I’m not making a move on you. We’re just friends. This is purely platonic.”

Purely platonic. Ouch. Of course you knew he didn’t see you as anything more, but did he have to say it in such an assured manner?

“Right,” You nodded as you remained sitting stiffly.

“That means you can, like, relax, weirdo,” He teased. You rolled your eyes and got comfortable, leaning into his soft and lazy embrace.

“Right..” You muttered, hesitantly adjusting your body so that it was leaning into his own. You were almost taken aback by how warm he was.

“You said that already,” He smirked.

“Do you wanna watch the damn movie or not?” You groaned, pulling away.

“Come back,” He drew out the last word as he pulled you back into him. You’d normally get an explosion of butterflies at his touch, especially with something like that. But you were still reeling in your hurt feelings from the just friends comment. “Okay, I’m sorry. Yes, I wanna watch the movie. I’ll shut up now.”

You both settled into the couch and continued to watch the movie. Much to your dismay, the movie only got scarier from that point on. You had to give credit to the directors for perfectly executing a jump scare after an excruciatingly long build up, it even made Steve wrap his arms around you tighter when each one happened.

“Close your eyes,” He said, covering them for you. “I’ll tell you when this part is over.”

“Did they have to kill the dog?” You mumbled sadly, making him laugh harder.

“It’s just part of the Hollywood magic. I’m sure that dog is still alive,” He reassured you. “.. Most likely.”

“Most likely?!” You frowned, taking his hand off your eyes only to see the killer murder another one. “FUCK! No, I tap out. Go turn the movie off, Steve!”

“No way! We’re almost done anyways. This is the first step to getting over this scary movie phobia!” He protested.

“Is it really considered getting over my fear if I spend the whole movie buried in your chest with your hand over my eyes?” You frowned.

“Baby steps, Y/L/N. Baby steps,” Steve said simply. You turned back towards the movie before he placed his hand on your cheek and moved your face back in his direction. “Wait, you probably don’t wanna turn back around just yet. They’re still at it.”

You glanced over at the hand that caressed your cheek. His own eyes widened, and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush as he pulled away his hand.

“Sorry. Force of habit from the, uh..” He looked down momentarily before his warm, brown eyes were back on your own. He looked up just in time to see your eyes flicker down to his lips. It was a quick, subconscious movement, one he would’ve missed if he blinked at the wrong time. Something about the way you two looked at one another changed in that moment.

Most people who saw each other as just friends wouldn’t hold eye contact for as long as the two of you did. It was as if you both couldn’t look away; you were completely and utterly entranced by one another. A friend wouldn’t reach out to slowly tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, allowing his hand to linger. A friend wouldn’t caress your cheek so intimately, especially not with that look in his eyes. He licked his lips, desperately trying to distract them from the desire of kissing you. But god, you were making it so hard with that sweet little doe-eyed gaze you gave him. Despite your best efforts, you made it incredibly obvious that you yearned for him in the same way.

We’re just friends. The words kept repeating in your mind as a way to try to find the strength to pull away. Even if he didn’t make that clear earlier, Robin has been very explicit of her disapproval of anything more. We’re just friends. We’re just friends.

Oh, but if that were true, he wouldn’t be fixated on your lips, moving his hand from your cheek to lightly stroke them with his thumb. If that were true, you wouldn’t be tracing circles on his chest, feeling his heart all but pound it’s way out. He wouldn’t be leaning in as if you were a magnet and he were steal- a helpless moth drawn to a flame.

“Can I kiss you?” He whispered, so close you felt his breath dance across your upper lip.

You should’ve said no. You should’ve reminded him that Robin wouldn’t approve and that things would just get complicated if you crossed that line.

“Mm, that doesn’t seem very platonic,” You smiled, leaning in further to make sure your lips brushed against his as you spoke. He let out a breathy chuckle.

“Has anything we’ve done tonight seemed very platonic to you?” He closed his eyes as he teased your lips with his own before you finally caved in. Your hand wandered to the back of his head before pulling him in softly.

His lips responded instantly, almost eagerly, as they slowly moved in sync with yours. His other arm snaked around your waist and pulled you in as he deepened the kiss. Your fingers toyed with the bottom of his shirt, sending butterflies to your stomach as you touched his skin. His hair was softer than you imagined, as was his hip. You mindlessly and softly licked at his bottom lip, wanting more.

“Wait,” He said breathlessly. He readjusted your bodies so that you now laid on your back with him on top. He strategically placed a leg between your own as he left a trail of kisses from your collarbone to your ear. You threw your head back, moaning softly as he nibbled at your earlobe and you heard him let out another breathy chuckle. Your hands scratched gently up and down his clothed body, making his breath quiver as he pulled away.

He looked into your eyes for a moment with a soft smile, a look of passion that melted you to your core, before returning to your lips. This time with more hunger than before. He grinded the thigh he placed between your legs rhythmically as he continued to kiss you, only moving back down to your neck when you threw your head back again in ecstasy.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” You moaned.

“Say the word and I’ll stop,” He breathed between kisses.

“Fuck, I don’t think I want you to stop,” You admitted, rolling your hips against his leg.

“Then what do you want?” He asked, pulling away to look into your eyes.

“I want you,” You admitted, making him smile.

“Say it again,” He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“I want you, Steve. I-“

“Hey, you guys still watching the movie?” You heard Robin call as the door upstairs opened. You both quickly jumped away from one another, fixing your hair and looking back at the movie as if nothing happened. You both watched as she walked down the stairs, smiling. “I convinced my mom to excuse me from the dinner to stay night with you, Y/N. I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah! That’s fine,” You breathed. She frowned.

“Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah! I just- I hate scary movies,” You chuckled nervously. “I think we left the snacks upstairs. I’m gonna go grab them.”

“I’ll help you!” Steve stood up.

“No, it’s okay. I got it,” You shook your head.

“I insist,” He said, already walking past you.

Robin narrowed her eyes but dismissed the conversation as you both made your way upstairs. You rounded the corner to the kitchen and turned to talk at the same time.

“That was-“

“Maybe we should-“

You both paused and laughed awkwardly.

“You go first,” He smiled, crossing his arms.

“That was stupid of us. We just got carried away in the moment without thinking about Robin. I don’t think she’d be thrilled to learn that..”

“That you want me?” He smirked, making you blush.

“Steve, I swear to God if you hold that over my head, or worse- if you tell Robin about what just happened, I’ll-“ You frowned, poking as his chest.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I swear I won’t ever bring it up again,” He laughed. “To you or to Robin. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Thank you,” You smiled, sticking out your hand for him to shake. “So, friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” He placed his hand in yours and shook slowly. You both maintained eye contact before you realized you were falling back under the same spell. His eyes widened as he pulled his hand away. “Shit. Okay, if we don’t want that to happen again, maybe we shouldn’t.. touch.”

“Good idea,” You agreed, looking back at the snacks. He smiled softly at you. “Grab the Pepsi. I got the pizza. And stop looking at me like that.”

“How am I looking at you?” He laughed. You tilted your head with an unamused look.

“Like you wanna kiss me again.”

“But I do wanna kiss you again,” He sighed, grabbing the Pepsi as told. “Especially now that I know what you sound like when I kiss your neck. I can’t help but wonder what other noises I can make you-“

“Steve!” You blushed, feeling like someone kicked the air out of your lungs. “Cut it out! We literally just shook on being friends. Strictly platonic from here on out, got it?”

“Right,” He muttered with a smile as you walked past him towards the basements. “Because that worked out so well last time..”

Part two ->

[almost-a-class-act]

This is the only 'x reader' fic I have ever written, so you know I wrote it for a real one. Happy birthday, peepaw. Gremlin Town wouldn't be the same without you. @cody-helix02

Pairing: Bill x reader Fandom: Band of Brothers

--

The reunion goes off like gangbusters, predictably.

Bill is great at this kind of thing. Relentlessly cheerful, he nevertheless gives off the impression that if anyone skips the reunion, he will know why. It had taken the right amount of reassuring, cajoling, threatening, and enticing with some people, but the turnout has ended up being pretty impressive, and you can tell Bill is over the moon about it. He’s in his exact element, swinging from table to table on those crutches he is improbably gifted at using, spinning yarns and flirting with wives and buying beers.

And you, well – you’re the opposite side of that coin, maybe, better in small groups than big ones, and though you are having a good time, you take the first opportunity to sneak out for a smoke break.

The further you step away from the light spilling out of the doors, propped open to let the cool night air into the stuffy legion hall, the more the stars fade into view. You pause, the cigarette that you’ve just pulled free of the carton frozen halfway to your lips, and tip your head back to take it all in.

You don’t think you’ll ever see stars again the way you did in Bastogne, the atmosphere then almost transparent in the cold, far-flung constellations you might have recognized if you had spent more time paying attention in school and less time sketching in the margins of your textbooks. The stars seem warmer here, a little closer to the earth but a little further apart from one another, and it hardly seems like it could be the same sky that was so unforgiving all those months – well, actually, years ago, now.

Sometimes the passage of time stops you in your tracks. The specific memories crowd close in your mind, especially at night, but the war itself feels distant. You wonder if you’ll get to decide what pieces you forget over time, and which stay with you; you’re pretty sure you know the answer.

“Can I get one of those?”

Bill’s voice makes you start slightly, and you turn to look at him, immediately and always pleased to see him but faintly uncomprehending, until he nods pointedly at the carton that you’re still holding. You tuck the cigarette in your hand between your lips before offering the rest, and as you slip the box back into your pocket, Bill lights his own cigarette and then yours. You hold his hand steady with the tips of your fingers as he does it, and it feels like you are alone in all of the same small, secret bubbles that you’d carved out for yourselves during the war.

“Figured I’d find you out here,” he says. Just as you’re well aware of how much of a people person Bill is – and it might be one of your favourite things about him, that knack that he has – he knows that you disappearing occasionally just means you’re getting a break from the crowd.

“It’s going really well,” you tell him, glancing back toward the packed hall, and he grins.

“Yeah,” he says, pleased. “Couldn’t have asked for better.”

The music from inside, where the tables have been pushed aside to make room for dancing, is clearly audible through the open doors, and as the opening notes of Give Me Something to Dream About float out on the evening air, you are reminded strikingly of that gritty basement bar in Paris where you had spent many of your nights on leave. The air had smelled like cigarettes and too many people crowded into one place and the beer had been decidedly warm, but it had been a welcome oasis anyway. You glance at Bill, who expels a stream of smoke and nods without you even having to say anything.

“Paris,” he says.

“Paris,” you agree.

The band had never wanted to play too many slow numbers, apparently afraid it would bring down the mood, but sometimes they could be persuaded to do a love song or two. Give Me Something to Dream About had been a favourite of yours, and Bill, though self-proclaimed not really a slow song kinda guy, used to ask for it toward the end of the night.

You asked them to play this, you had accused, the first time.

So what? He had returned. Maybe I like this one.

He beckons to you now, leaning heavier on one crutch to do so, the glow of that cigarette another pinpoint of starlight in the dark. You step forward, smiling despite yourself, and loop your arms loosely around his neck, your own cigarette dangling from your fingertips. It’s funny, you think, that you would know the bright-warm feeling of his body against yours anywhere, even a lifetime from now – even if you’d gone your separate ways at war’s end.

“You know, I like that you still want to dance with me,” Bill says, as you sway gently. It’s as charming as anything else he has ever said to you, but you know what lives underneath. It’s another small piece of the future that Bill had had to gently let go of after he’d lost his leg, still a weighty undertaking even beneath that irrepressible good cheer.

“It’s better like this, anyhow,” you say, meaning it. “I never remember all the steps to the fast ones.”

Bill chuckles, obviously remembering the two of you very firmly making up dances as you went along, and the familiar sound of his laugh makes you grin, too.

You feel lucky that it ended up this way, you think, as you crowd in close, pressing your cheek against Bill’s for a moment, tipping your head down so you can briefly nose against the soft skin under his ear, where it smells the most like him. Your friends, finally safe, are all together again in a warm, bright, happy room behind you, and you’re here –  tucked away, safe too, under that staggering spray of stars, in the arms of your favourite dance partner.

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

No Business Like Show Business | Part Five

Series Summary: you work backstage at a theatre and become close with the star of the show (who you may also have a slight crush on)

Pairing: James McAvoy x reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none? a bit saucy maybe but nothing worthy of a warning... 

A/N: Feel free to substitute James for any actor of your choosing. Also, spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :)

Part Four | Masterlist

- - - - -

I can’t believe its been two weeks since James and I started our secret relationship. Yeah, its frustrating having to sneak around but its also kinda exhilarating. Still, I’m looking forward to being able to go out on a proper date with him. 

There’s only a couple of weeks left until the show opens and I’ve still got SO much left to do! Lets just say, its difficult to concentrate on props work with James around… 

— — — — 

James spends a lot of time hanging out with you in the props room. Any chance he gets between rehearsals, costume fittings, press interviews… he’s there. Sometimes he helps you out, finding things off shelves for you or assisting with actually making things. Sometimes you help him run through lines. But more often than not you get distracted and end up kissing like a couple of love sick teenagers. 

Other than Vera, who you trust enough to tell everything to, no one else knows about you and James. Thankfully most people seem to have forgotten about the coffee shop scene. Occasionally one of the many creeps with cameras, that are constantly hanging around outside the theatre hoping for a glimpse of James, will try to question you as you walk by. But mostly they ignored you now. You were old news. 

Anastasia however is still on the war path, convinced you’re trying to steal her man from her, despite the fact that James has made it very clear they are not and will not ever be together. You try to avoid her as much as possible, but when you do see her around the theatre she glares at you with such a look that you're glad looks can’t actually kill.

You even get to the theatre earlier now than you’re required to, knowing that you’ll be able to check in and get to your props room before Ana has even entered the building. It sounds silly, but you just can’t be bothered with the drama. 

You flash your ID badge to security and begin your journey through the theatre, bumping into Alan on the way. 

“Oh Y/N! You’re here early aren’t you?” 

“Just trying to get ahead on all the work thats left to be done” you laugh awkwardly as you continue walking past him. 

“Actually Y/N, I’ve been meaning to talk to you but I can never seem to find you around. I noticed you haven’t been to watch a rehearsal in a while?” 

“Like I said, lots to do-”

“Yes well, I think it would be really helpful for you if you came along to see how the props are being used.” He interrupts and you have to fight not to roll your eyes at him mansplaining your own job to you “We’re doing a full run through of both acts today, I expect to see you there.” 

He doesn’t wait for to you respond before walking away. You let out a deep breath, half annoyance and half dread of having to actually face Anastasia. 

— — — — 

The other bonus to getting in so early is that you actually have a chance to get some real work done. As much as you love the time James spends with you, you were starting to get slightly worried at how behind you’ve got. 

About half an hour before the rehearsal is due to start you hear the sound of someone tapping in the security code to your door, your signal that James is coming in. You weren’t technically supposed to have told him, but since its only ever him or Vera that make the journey down to the basement you figured it was safe. 

“Good morning beautiful” he says as he enters, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he drops his backpack to the floor. “How are you this fine morning?” 

“You’re extra cheerful today” You say with a laugh that doesn’t quite match the expression on your face. James notices. 

“You’re not.” He sits next to you, placing his hand on yours “What’s wrong?” 

“I’m just tired” you smile a small smile. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still getting here stupid early to avoid Ana?” He says and you just give him a guilty puppy look “Y/N! You're going to make yourself ill if you don’t get enough sleep. Come on, you can’t hide from her down here forever.”

“No you’re right, I can’t. Alan is forcing me to attend the run through rehearsal today so I’ve got no choice but to suffer her murderous stare all day.”

“Yeah she is good at the bitch face, I’ll give her that.” James laughs.

“Its not funny!” You say, despite laughing yourself “it’s actually quite scary being on the receiving end. I’m worried one day she’ll substitute the rubber prop knife for a real one and stab me with it.” 

“Now that would be good publicity…” 

“James!!” You laugh as you go to playfully push him. He grabs both your arms, pulling you onto his lap and holding you tightly. Your back against his chest as you both laugh. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’d never let her hurt you…” he keeps one arm wrapped  across your stomach as his other hand comes to your face. He turns your head gently so he can look you in the eye. “I’d never let anyone hurt you.”

He dips you to the side slightly to give himself room to lean down and kiss you. When he eventually leans away, he pulls you back up into him and keeps you snuggled against him a little longer. 

“What are you thinking?” You break the comfortable silence after a few minutes. 

“Just wishing I could take you on a proper date. Go outside of this basement.”

“Oh, is my basement not good enough for you eh?” You joke as you remove yourself from his arms and get up. He catches your hand and spins you back so you're now facing him, pulling you back down so your straddling his lap. 

“I’m fed up of hiding. I want to show you off to the world.” 

“Thats a scary thought” you admit, draping your arms around his shoulders and hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

“Is it?” He asks and you just nod “talk to me” 

“It’s just, you have so many fans. What if they don't like me? What if they think I’m not good enough for you, or pretty enough or-”

“Hey” he says, stopping you mid spiral as he gently puts his hands on the sides of your face and moves you so he can see your eyes “Stop that okay! Look at me.” He lifts your head slightly higher making you make eye contact with him. “I don't care what anyone else thinks or says, it doesn’t matter. You are more than enough. You are perfect.”

You give him a small, teary eyed smile before kissing him again. He pulls you in deeper, one hand on your back and the other on the back of your head, his fingers entangled in your hair…

— — — — 

The morning went by far too fast and now it was time to head to rehearsal. James tried to persuade you to go walking in there hand in hand with him, but you made him go ahead alone. As much as you would have loved to see the smug look wiped off Anastasia’s face, you couldn’t risk Alan turning around and threatening to remove you from the team again. 

You got to rehearsal about five minutes after James, and to your relief you found Vera was already there. You took a seat next to her and she eyed you suspiciously. 

“What?” You laughed awkwardly.

“Have you been to a new hair stylist? Maybe a certain hunky scottsman..?” She looks up at your hair which you instantly start smoothing down. 

“Is it that obvious?” Trying to sneakily comb your hair down with your fingers as you glance around the room. Thankfully no one was watching. 

“No, if I didn’t know any better I’d have thought you were just a bit windswept. Blame the weather dear.” She winks and turns her attention to her notebook. You glance over at James and catch him watching you. He playfully copies you, running his hand through his own hair and you raise an eyebrow at him, shaking your head with a smirk. 

“Here comes trouble” Vera’s voice pulls you away an directs your attention to the door. 

When Anastasia enters the room the atmosphere changes. Everyone seems more on edge when she’s around and she knows it. And you can tell she loves it, having that kind of power over people. Alan of course is the first to rush to her side, making sure she’s okay with everything. Her eyes trace the room as he talks, glancing at every single face until she lands on yours. Immediately she turns and walks over to James, draping her arms over his shoulders and pretending to be a part of the conversation he was already having with another cast member. He turns his face ever so slightly to look in your direction but is pulled straight back by Ana who fake laughs in his face at something he said. 

Its like watching a car crash happen in slow motion. You want to look away, but you just can’t help but watch. 

— — — — 

The first act of the rehearsal went well and annoyingly Alan was right. Watching did really help you understand what you needed to change so that some of the props would work better. You wouldn’t admit that to his face though. 

Thankfully once they started acting Ana seemed to completely forget you were in the room. Up until the end of the final scene of the act, when she made eye contact with you right before leaning in to kiss James’ character. Even after the director had called the end of the scene, she gripped onto James and you could tell he was trying to pull away. She laughed it off after, claiming she just ‘really got into the scene’ but you both knew why she really did it. You deserve an Oscar for how well you hid the disgust from your face and managed to fake laugh along with everyone else. 

During the break you headed into the kitchen to make a coffee. A moment later the door swung open and James poked his head in and checked his surroundings before coming inside and sneakily locking the door. He came up behind you, pressing himself into your back as his arms snaked around your waist. 

“You survived the first act” he jokes and you laugh “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine are you?! I thought she was going to suck your face clean off at the end there.” 

“Ugh don't put that image in my head.” He pretends to gag and you both laugh. You turn your self around in his arms so you're now leaning against the kitchen counter and facing him. “The only person I want to suck my face off is you.” 

“Ew, James!” You say a bit too loud and he gently puts a finger to your mouth, shushing you but laughing too. “You're gross” 

“Yeah, but you love me” he winks, moving his finger so he can instead press his lips to yours. 

The sound of someone walking past the door pulls you both back to reality and he pulls away slightly but brings his hands down to lean on the counter behind you, boxing you in. 

“Come to mine tonight?” He asks “If I can’t take you out on a proper date, then let me cook dinner for you at my place instead.” 

“Are you sure? What if someone sees?”

“They won’t, no one knows where I live.”

“But what about-” you start, but he cuts you off. Reaching behind you for a biscuit which he places in your mouth, making you laugh.

“Shut up and trust me.” he smiles playfully, taking another biscuit for himself before turning and unlocking the door. “I’ll text you my address. See you later beautiful.” 

He blows you a kiss and leaves before you have a chance to say anything else. Vera enters just after, immediately bursting out laughing when she sees you still with a biscuit hanging out your mouth. 

“You alright there love?” She asks as you remove the biscuit and place it on the counter next to your cup of coffee.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Better than fine…” you say, feeling butterflies flutter in your stomach. “I’ve got a date.” 

taglist: @halfofwhatisayismeaningless @internetgremlin-reads @blahblahblah0987654321 @mcavoy-girl @username21mk @hehehehecigcigcigcig 

[siremasterlawrence]

Business Acquisition: Hallmark Channel

My Favorite Gym Bro

Part 1 - 4

Luke Macfarlane is at the gym we installed in the basement level.

The lights start blink on and off as the door is locked.

He is totally free of anything on the daily life and work schedule.

The air vents turn on with this flow of pink air.

He stars to cough a bit fainting in the midst of the heat.

His mind clouds up as it swirls into nothing but pink puff.

“Uuuuggh! What the fuck?”

“I have a headache”

“You fainted”

“Thanks Andrew”

“When did you get here?”

“Just now”

“My body feels weird”

“I feel so light”

“Uh duhh”

“Dummy”

“Duh! Lol my body is hard”

“I have to be seen and be seen”

He is so pumped jumping up in excitement as his nipples bob.

His entire chest springs with excitement at the sight.

Some guy walks in as he slows down a bit in his state.

Everything is in slow motion now he can do anything.

“Who are you?”

“Are you ready to sign your contract?”

Part 5 - 8

Andrew knew his cue guiding him into the room.

The pen appears our nowhere into his might hands.

Luke does not think just sighing it as fades out of sight.

“Now for your first role”

“Whatever it is “

“Thank you!”

Luke Is on the set now after taking a shower he gets prepped.

The woman in the scene whose body is now the most repulsive thing he has seen.

Burst onto him spinning him around to pull off his clothes.

“Man among men”

“I am so hot”

“Feel these abs”

She kiss him as they tassel all over the room and he gets dressed.

He is standing in front of the mirror making sure he is decent.

He turns stern removing a bag from under the bed with a change clothes and weapons

“Time to wage a war my lady”

“A soldier through and through”

“If you say so”

The end

[munchmemes]

glass animals lyrics ( how to be a human being edition )

❛  daddy was dumb, he said that i’d be something special.  ❜ ❛  brought me up tough but i was a gentle human.  ❜ ❛  i can’t get a job so i live with my mom.  ❜ ❛  i sit in the car and i listen to static.  ❜ ❛  lean back now. lean back and breathe.  ❜ ❛  i woke up, lost in boxes outside Tesco.  ❜ ❛  i look like a bum, sipping codeine coca cola.  ❜ ❛  i make my own fun in grandmama’s basement.  ❜ ❛  they said i look mad, said i look wasted.  ❜ ❛  when i left you, you were young.  ❜ ❛  i was gone but not my love.  ❜ ❛  you were clearly meant for more than a life lost in the war.  ❜ ❛  all i want’s you to be happy.  ❜ ❛  don’t you know you got my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i know you can make it right.  ❜ ❛  now your life is back to fun but you’ll see that’s not for long ‘cause i know you’ll feel the ghost of the memory.  ❜ ❛  don’t you need me, oh, baby boy?  ❜ ❛  every time i take a step, we’re moving forwards faster. and lately, i can’t take it.  ❜ ❛  now my bod’s in tatters.  ❜ ❛  everything i tried to leave behind is still beside us.  ❜ ❛  leftover breakfast cereal for lunch.  ❜ ❛  my girl eats mayonnaise from a jar when she’s getting blazed.  ❜ ❛  lazy. lying on your belly with a super pump cola. looking at your phone in clothes you’ve worn for three days over.  ❜ ❛  it hurts to say it’s hopeless and we ain’t gonna make it.  ❜ ❛  i’m drunk on old cartoons.  ❜ ❛  sometimes it makes me laugh, sometimes it makes me sad.  ❜ ❛  you took my hand and you made me run.  ❜ ❛  why can’t we laugh now like we did then? how come i see you and ache instead?  ❜ ❛  how come you only look pleased in bed?  ❜ ❛  let’s climb the cliff edge and jump again.  ❜ ❛  pineapples are in my head.  ❜ ❛  i won’t forget how you looked at me then.  ❜ ❛  i know i’m no sweet prince of love.  ❜ ❛  why don’t i say it then? i want you all the time.  ❜ ❛  in the summer, i took my gun and made him go to neverland.  ❜ ❛  did you say something? what’d you say? was that your voice or was that me?  ❜ ❛  they’ll never ever let me be.  ❜ ❛  my heart strings broke and it was me.  ❜ ❛  in the summer silence, i was getting violent.  ❜ ❛  in the summer silence, i was doing nothing.  ❜ ❛  play with me, my love.  ❜ ❛  lay with me, my dear.  ❜ ❛  baby, don’t go.  ❜ ❛  burn through my love.  ❜ ❛  just like your drugs, i’ve had quite enough or lack thereof.  ❜ ❛  people stand in line to look at pre-made sandwiches.  ❜ ❛  people stand in line to buy whatever the McFuck they might want to shove down their foodpipes tonight.  ❜ ❛  new watch in black gold, new shirt that looks old. big dick and no soul.  ❜ ❛  people complain about standing in line, people stand in line and they don’t even know why.  ❜ ❛  when i was young and stupid, my love left to be a rock and roll star.  ❜ ❛  bye bye, baby blue.  ❜ ❛  i wish you could see the wicked truth.  ❜ ❛  you’re caught up in a rush and it’s killing you.  ❜ ❛  i settled for a ghost i never knew.  ❜ ❛  i miss them, don’t you blame me.  ❜ ❛  i know you don’t but i still try.  ❜ ❛  i think it’s over now. the bullet hit but maybe not.  ❜ ❛  i feel so fucking numb.  ❜ ❛  most people don’t do it the way i do it, very personal.  ❜ ❛  y’know like whatever, i just like sausage.  ❜ ❛  one is pretty but the other lies.  ❜ ❛  i’m the treasure, baby, i’m the prize.  ❜ ❛  gonna fuck my way through college.  ❜ ❛  wake me when the bell rings.  ❜ ❛  i’m gonna sleep ‘cause you live in my day dreams.  ❜ ❛  i’m filthy and i love it.  ❜ ❛  i saw Mrs. Moore sleep around with Mr. Keats.  ❜ ❛  i feel like a new man.  ❜ ❛  i am a true romantic, free falling love addict.  ❜ ❛  all your days are gone, sitting on the floor in your underwear, begging me for more.  ❜ ❛  i don’t love you anymore, they said and ceased to be.  ❜ ❛  just stop and think a minute.  ❜ ❛  why don’t you light that cigarette and calm down now?  ❜ ❛  stop and breathe a second, go back to the very beginning.  ❜ ❛  that nervous breath you try to hide between the motions.  ❜ ❛  i want to hold you like you’re mine.  ❜ ❛  you see the sad in everything, a genius of love and loneliness.  ❜ ❛  this time you overdid the liquor, this you pulled the fuckin’ trigger.  ❜ ❛  where went that cheeky friend of mine?  ❜ ❛  where went that billion dollar smile?  ❜ ❛  guess life is long when soaked in sadness on borrowed time from Mr. Madness.  ❜ ❛  you’re gone but you’re on my mind.  ❜

[haircoveredwriter]

Some thoughts after watching 11x06 "On the Inside". I'll put it beneath a break because there's more than I thought to my mindless rambling.

Okay so they're going with a straight horror movie intro but skipping the usual 'we're having such a good time out here in the woods...wait, something it out here too'

Both LR and KC do a really good terrified for their lives

Also have to say Virgil really seems to have stepped up since we met him because dude can actually take out walkers now. Good job, sir. Never stop learning.

More of Leah walking around amoungst a group of people and having no real reason to be there or contribute anything to the scene. 🙄

Damn, Hondo! Stop pulling at Frost's nails! I can't rip half mine off at work without feeling like Hershel when Rick chopped his leg. Fingers and toes always make thigs worse.

Chokeholds are illegal, Daryl. Someone needs to have him watch his own earlier seasons.

The conversation beneath the conversation between Daryl and Frost is spot on and super interesting.

Daryl's like 'look...I'm going to have to chop your finger off but it's for a good reason. Gonna save your life and who knows, maybe one of these weirdos has a Govenor closet somewhere and they'll let you take it home with you.'

Plus him taking off the vest was WAY more entralling than it needed to be, but I'm a woman with eyes so don't judge me. 👀😍(Enthralling? yup, that's what we'll go with)

It's a definite sign Daryl's not all team Reapers because he's basically taking off/hiding who he really is to fit in with his crazy ex-girlfriend's new posse.

Though my science schooling is giving how little blood there is from the amputation the side eye. Guess Frost just willed his blood some place else.

Am I crazy or is the music playing while Daryl torutres Frost the same that was playing in 10x07 while Carol tortured the Whisperer? Coincedence??🤔

Evil Monopoly man seems like he enjoys playing games with his people.

If Connie looking in the mirror is not me everyday I wake-up😏

GUYS! There were medical scissors in the medicine cabinet. You know what this means??? Queen Beth is gonna rise from the dead and save Vonnie all while less half a brain. LOL.

whoever belongs to that eye in the hole needs to get checked for jaundice.

Ofc the pencil breaks when Connie TRULY needs it. Fate really has it in for her, screwing her over with one of her most trusted friends.

These Reapers have no idea do they about how to sneak up on a building without being seen. Maybe they need it to be night before their powers activate. Funny Leah is in charge when she's the least believable one there.

Daryl pretending to be a cat hiding behind a plant with that mailbox...no one can see you my friend. You're good.

Carver and Leah remind me of the evil version of Caryl and Daryl.

They obviously have something going on and/or had a thing in Daryl's abscence. All those "Always" remarks sound an awful lot like The Princess Bride's "As you wish".

Yup, Carver is uber jealous of Daryl. Leaver is setting sail ya'll.🚢

Carol strolling in to find Kelly stuck in the mud with her casual "need some help" is perfection. I actually lol'd.

AT is also SUCH and underrated and underutilized actress on this show, I need more Kelly on my screen because she needs to be protected like the sweet cinnamon role she is.

WTH is with this episode, they really out here trying to start a bunch of new ships or something? I'm down for Vonnie.

He's so into you, Connie. Who else is gonna keep talking to you knowing you can't hear them but needing to vocalize how much more important they see you to themselves.

Oh, come on...he's said her name in this ep more times than anyone has in the last season. He's trying to rival Daryl for saying Carol's name in s10.

So in case you're keeping track...we now have Vonnie and Leaver riding the crazy shipping seas.📃

Great... more posturing about who cares about Leah more.🤮 Carver you aren't getting it; Daryl's been phoning it in since Day 1, he's not a threat just wait it out and he'll audios up out of here to go find his fire queen back home.

Leah's even telling Daryl "stop pissing of my secret boyfriend okay?"

Note to everyone: a dancing phone line is the sign to run to the basement and not a sign of an overeager squirrel running across the line for his acorns.

So the jaundice family watched The Ring too many times and think this is how all the cool kids act in horror flicks. All they keep saying is 'hungry'; Connie, Virgil, someone get them a Mars bar and it'll be done.

A+ fight put up by Virgil. He's been taking some classes during the lockdowns to better himself.

The Reapers are HORRIBLE military folk. How do ya'll not see Maggie & co leaving when you have people on the perimeter for the sole purpose of finding runners?! Do not hire them. 1 star on Yelp.

Yup I'm all over Vonnie. That "together" stuff was by far the shippiest thing we've seen all season.

And their reunion hug through the walll .... guuurl.

walker guts trick again: the express version

why do I feel like they could do a mini spin off of just a little war going on between the walkers and those jaundice mo-fos? Then one of the walkers falls for a crawler girl but her family thinks he's from the wrong side of the yellow house and don't like how he thinks he's better because he's taller than all of them.

Kelly found Connie! So happy this storyline ended with the 2 people the arc was truly about; the 2 sisters finding each otherafter years of the show hating siblings.

Now can we finish with Carol's self-hatred stuff and let her heal? We know Daryl is gonna be finished with his "gotta save 'em all" issues soon so it would be fantastic if they could finally be on the same baggage free playing field. Just a thought Kang.

Overall I thought it was a good episode. Only a few things I would nitpick ie. limited Carol, cheesy music during some of the haunted house bits, and the reapers need to go back to basic training and learn some stuff and thangs.

Ofc the spoilers beforehand were blown way out of proportion though I'm not surprised. I didn't go in expecting to see what was foretold and thankfully the spirit Gods prevailed again in defeating the overreaction we go through EVERY episode.

[sp00kworm]

Silence (Part 3- Bloodhound’s Ending)

Part 1 -  A Bar Brawl

Part 2 - A Totem to Remember (Revenant’s Ending)

---

Pairing: Bloodhound x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

---

The Star Goddess - Bloodhound’s Ending

---

Bloodhound had done well in the games recently. Keen eyes with even keener tactics had proven their worth countless times, in countless line-ups. They had a good number of wins under their belt and you assumed that meant lots of winnings. The customers had quickly become fans, and often you found them asking you about the mysterious champion and to put on the highlights for the latest match. You were always happy to put the highlights on for them when asked, and you enjoyed watching the expert tracking from Bloodhound on the screen. A few weeks of highlights made you wonder if Bloodhound would ever come back to your little bar in the outskirts of the city.

 A chirp from over your shoulder paused you in your humming. The washing robot chirped again as you looked at it and watched the screen as it flashed with a winking emoji and a smirk before red text scrolled along the bottom.

‘WASHING COMPLETED!’

You smiled and nodded, “Okay buddy.” You patted his front, “Did you manage to put them all away?” You asked.

The robot chirped with a nod, his green optics flashing before he held out a tub of the shot glasses for you to take.

“I’ll put them away, no problem. Thank you.” You took the box with a smile and moved back towards the cabinet to put all the freshly washed glasses back in their proper homes. You blew dust from the shelves and tutted before taking a duster and wiping the shelves down with quick strokes towards you, removing the thin layer of dust over the wood. It was much tidier with a dusting. After placing the duster away you started putting away the glasses in their correct places.

 You jumped when there was a knock at the front door. It was just before closing, but there wasn’t anyone in the bar, so you’d already gotten to cleaning up for the night. Another few knocks sounded against the metal and you placed the tub of glassware down before you headed over to the door and opened it a small amount.

A man stood in front of you, dressed in heavy pelts with a smile like a bears snarl. He gave a great laugh at you before pulling back his hood to reveal his bright white hair and beard, “It’s been long, krútt!” He raised his arms jovially before heaving his packs a little higher and pulling his hover-sledge a little.

“It has been a long, long time, Halldór.” You replied with a laugh as you let the traveller into the bar, “How has business been?” You asked as you helped him tuck his sledge in the corner by the door.

“Pah. What business?!” Halldór sneered as his icy eyes trained on the bar, “But you have had a makeover! Look you even have…what is name? Holovision!” He clapped his hands together before he tugged free his furs and hung them over the hooks by the door, “Did you get loan?”

 “Nothing like that…” You shrugged, “Some asshole came in here and started…well…” You grumbled, “A man died in here and I got a lot of hush money.” The confession was like poison and bitter in your mouth and you unhooked the bar door before closing it and facing Halldór.

“Hush money. Not good to get involved with those sorts…even after the war.” He tutted in disappointment, “But, I suppose the money went to good use.” He didn’t ask anymore questions, and you were glad, for both of your sakes. You knew that the Games would not be too happy with more people knowing about the murder. It was best left in the past, and that was where you would rather it stay forever. Just the thought of Revenant’s orange gaze made you grimace.

Halldór sat himself at the bar and smiled, “Come, come. Let me tell you about the Outlands! There are new faces and new stories to be heard.”

“How about we get to that after you show me what insane drinks you’ve brought.” You laughed as you reached for some glasses and placed them in front of the Outlander.

 Halldór scrubbed his hair back from his face and stood with a groan, hobbling tiredly, and dramatically, over to his sledge to take out items from the sacks laid across the metal structure. The sacks were large but Halldór reached into each of them in turn and pulled free a bottle of liquor from each, each of them wrapped tightly with brown paper and tied to stop them from breaking and spilling into the rest of his goods. He pulled all the brown paper free and revealed a brown bottle and two green taller bottles. They each had a hand made label and you looked at them before taking the brown one in hand and smiling at the label. Brennivín. You smiled at the label and turned it around for him to see.

“It has been a while since I’ve gotten hold of it.” Halldór chuckled as he squinted at the label, “That’s something strong right there.” He snorted, “I don’t think many customers would be after that.”

“Its more for a personal try.” You offered as you turned the bottle back to face him and hummed, “What kind of a price are you thinking of? I can give you a hundred for it.” You went in low, knowing you had room to bargain with the trader then.

 Halldór snorted at your offer, “I want at least two hundred for it. It has come a long way you see.” He smirked at your scowl.

“One bottle for two hundred. No way. One fifty.” You retorted.

“Not even one hundred and sixty?” Halldór teased you.

“Nice try. Not a penny more for you.” You chastised as Halldór laughed at you. You reached for your credit purse and pulled out the chips for Halldór to take from the top. He slid you the bottle and you took it from the bar top with a smile. The green label was stark with a writing you were sure you could not read in large lettering above the translation.

“I have something else you might like.” Halldór smirked as he went back to retrieve something else from one of his large sacks. He pulled free a large jar full of meat and sauce.

“That looks like death.” You commented at you watched the pickling liquid swill left and right.

“No, no. It is pickled meats. Goes well with Brennivín.” He said as you took the jar from his grasp to look at the long strips of game in the juice.

“I feel like you’re lying to me, but I’ll take it.” You hummed as you eyed the gamey looking meat.

“For you, eighty credits.” Halldór smiled and you handed him the credits without much complaint, wondering if you could find someone to eat it if you didn’t like it.

 Halldór tucked away all his goods before he sat down and slapped the bar with his palms, “Come then. Let us drink for a while, you can fill me in on what I have missed among the land of the living.”

You laughed at the merchant before you reached under the bar and plucked free a very suspicious looking rum, “Well you’ll be glad I got this then. I think it was made in some guys basement, but I know you like those sorts of drinks.”

Halldór laughed brightly, “You know me so well!” He threw his arms out with a guffaw and you laughed with him as you reached for the glasses and poured him a drink.

“To meeting old friend again!” Halldór cheered as he held his alcohol up. You clicked your glasses together and drank with each other late into the night, far past closing time.

    The memory of that hang over made your eyes spin in your skull, a reminder of how tired you had felt the next day as you opened the bar for the night, eyes half closed despite the insane amount of water you had chugged. It was another busy night, some days after your exhaustion, and you were rushed off your feet trying to get out the insane amount of drinks to customers without any help. Thankfully, your washing robot was happy to step in and help you out with serving, though he was no good at pulling pints. You’d let him start pouring and watched as his tummy for washing smacked the handles over and caused beer to spill over the sides, splashing everywhere as the robot fussed and chirped in upset. Now he was happily handing out bottles and cans of drinks as you took care of the pints and other more delicate drinks which the robot could not handle. It went a lot easier with some help and you felt less rushed off your feet as the customers eventually ebbed to drinking and speaking with the occasional refill for the larger groups.

 Closing time couldn’t come any sooner as you took in the last of the glasses and hooked your robot back up to the water to get on with the tidying. He chirped happily as the water started to churn in his systems and you laughed softly as he chirped a tune.

“Thanks for today buddy, you were a big help.” You cooed as you patted his shoulders and brushed off some dirt from him before you took your cloths and set to cleaning down the bar top and the tables

His screen flashed with a thumbs up emoji and you laughed again as the robot hummed to himself and happily set about working cleaning and stacking pots.

“That’s it, buddy. Too right.” You jokingly said as you headed back towards the tables on the back wall of the bar with the trigger bottle of disinfectant in your hand. The tables were particularly covered in beer and pieces of nuts. You grumbled at the mess, wiping away the sticky mess before you cleaned away the crumbs and sprayed it with disinfectant. The holoscreen played softly in the background announcing the end results of this season in the Apex Games. It was a rough season, but Bloodhound had finished with many wins under their belt, closely followed by Revenant. Neither was the winner overall, but you turned to watch the replays of intense moments and laughed at the knife in Revenant’s side as Bloodhound severed his coolant pumps and drove it three times up through his sternum, severing the rest of Revenant’s vitals before they laid the Simulacrum back and placed the gun over his chest with a nod of their head. The Simulacrum got what he deserved for trying to bait the hunter into fighting him.

 The call of a Raven sounded from outside and your head shot up as you paused cleaning the tabletops to peer through the window as the Raven hopped along the window ledge and pecked at the glass harshly. Two hands appeared from behind the wall to grasp the bird by its body, tucking its wings close before the hunter appeared, clad in heavy fabric and goggles, their respirator fixed firmly in place. Bloodhound peered through the window, Artur tucked under their arm before they nodded their head in greeting and knocked on the door quietly with three solid raps of their knuckles. You turned towards the door and unlocked the mechanism before peering out with a smile.

“Hey stranger.” You smiled at Bloodhound.

Bloodhound let Artur go at the birds incessant nipping to their gloves and watched him hop up their shoulder before replying, “It has been some time.” They commented, “I hope you have faired well.”

“I’ve been fine! It’s been busy but with the season over its finally winding down a little bit.” You let Bloodhound in through the door, watching as Artur hopped across their shoulders before cawing loudly at your face, his beak snapping at your nose.

 “Artur. That is rude.” Bloodhound reprimanded as they entered the bar, peering around the empty inside before they limped over to the bar and settled awkwardly on the seat, their foot perched on the stepping part of another stool.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” You watched Bloodhound as you rounded the back of them and lifted the bar door before standing behind the top and watching them squirm in discomfort, however minimalistic the movements were.

“I am fine. A small injury in the ring.” Bloodhound brushed your concerns aside as they adjusted themself on the stool.

“Revenant got you in that tussle, didn’t he?” You asked as you reached into the back of the liquor cabinet for the new bottle of Brennivín. You turned back to Bloodhound with a smile as you offered the green bottle to them and placed it on top of the wood. Bloodhound gave a breathy chuckle as they took the bottle and looked at the handmade label.

“The Simulacrum got his recompense for daring to try.” Bloodhound observed softly as they ran their gloved fingers over the label and reached to undo the top, pulling the cork with a deft twist of their wrist before smelling the strong liquor, even through the respirator.

 “Its strong. That’s for sure. I remember you saying something about cold glasses?” You reached under the bar and tugged out two glasses from the cooler, laying them on the top for Bloodhound.

“

“Yes. Though snow is still the best way to cool this.” Bloodhound huffed a laugh again as they poured a generous amount into each glass.

You took one in your hand and raised it to the hunter, “To…” You floundered, “I don’t know. What do we toast to?”

Bloodhound held their glass up, “To new friendships and a long rest.” They tapped your glasses together before laying the drink back on the bar and waiting.

“Ah, sorry.” You turned around as they reached to undo the straps of their respirator, “You don’t have to take it off if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Bloodhound tapped the back of your elbow, “I do not mind.” Their voice was soft but gentle, like the sound of a strong wave against the beach, powerful but not hurtful. You turned around and smiled at their scarred face, the pale skin covered in thin veins of tough scars from an old injury. Their goggles stayed in place with their head wear and scarves, which prevented anything else from being revealed. Still, the gently slope of their lips made you wonder how someone with such a pretty, yet scarred mouth, could be a vicious hunter in a game of blood sport.  

 Bloodhound ignored your eyes looking over their scars and gave a small smile. It was a simple small twist of the corner of their lips before they took a large swallow of Brennivín and hissed at the burning in the back of their throat, “That is stronger than I have had.” They coughed a couple of time before chuckling and motioning to your own drink which you had not touched, “You have toasted but not drank.”

You swallowed heavily, “I don’t know if I want to after your reaction, and you’ve been drinking it all your life.”

“It is not that bad, so long as your stomach is strong.” Bloodhound insisted with another chuckle, “You will be fine. Give it a taste.”

“If you insist.” You joked as you took a sip of the liquor. It took a moment for the taste to pass and the burning sensation to clench your throat, “Oh my…” You gave a sharp cough and cringed at the burn before breathing deeply to try and ease it.

“It is good for the soul.” Bloodhound chuckled again before Artur squawked and tried to dip his beak into the glass, “No, my friend, it is far too strong for you.” They eased the bird from their shoulder and watched the Raven protest and hop along the bar, ruffling his feathers and pecking at the wood and bar taps.

 Suddenly you felt at a loss for what to say. You had wondered if Bloodhound would ever show up. They were under no obligation to, of course, they had merely been interested in keeping Revenant in line, but you had to wonder if they enjoyed your company.

“So, what’s kept you away? Has Revenant kept you busy?” You asked as you watched Bloodhound sip at the drink.

Bloodhound gave a grumble, “Unfortunately. The robot cannot control itself.” Their fingers twitched in the motion as though they were playing with something and you watched them reached to their thigh and pluck free a short throwing dagger before they proceeded to spin the blade back and forth and around their fingers in a dexterous display.

“I don’t doubt that.” You commented as you dragged yourself over a stool and sat in front of Bloodhound, “I know it first-hand, after all.” You tried to laugh a little to not remember the night of the slaughter across your bar floor, but the blood and guts were fresh in your mind. The alcohol’s sting was welcome as you avoided Bloodhound’s eyes behind the orange tinted goggles.

 A hand on your own shocked you, and you looked up just as they slid the knife across the bar, the tip of the blade tapping at your wrist.

“You do not have to fear him, krúttið mitt.” Bloodhound uttered before revealing bright, white teeth. Two fangs dipped out from under their top lip and you found yourself staring a little as their other hand cupped your palm and squeezed softly, comfortingly.

“I don’t fear him…” You tried to ease your hand out with a gentle tug, “I just don’t want him near me or my bar, ever again. I wouldn’t hesitate to…to…”

“I admire your bravery, but you would be dead before you could touch a wire. He is an animal now, do not forget that. He would have little regard for your life.” Bloodhound grumbled again, “I have seen him torture my fellows. I know what he is capable of. You are best to stay away.”

“And what, you’ll protect me?” You scoffed, “I’ve heard that before.”

“I will.” Bloodhound’s goggled eyes looked towards your own, the deep brown glinting through with the shine of the antique lighting, “I will make sure he bothers you no longer, this I promise.” They covered their heart and bowed their head, “And if I fail, then you will have the right to hate me.”

 You took your hands away with a frown before shaking it and giving a wet, upset laugh, “There’s no need for the dramatics. I believe you.” You watched Bloodhound drag their hands back after a moment before you held the bottle of Brennivín again, “Another?”

“I would rather not partake again but thank you.” Bloodhound reached for their respirator and fixed it back into place. Their respirator whooshed quietly as you put the bottle back in its appropriate place.

“Do you have matches coming up?” You asked as you worked quietly behind the bar, facing the cabinet.

Bloodhound shook their head, the beads and bones of their hat clicking together, “Not soon, but I promised Loba I would help her practice her hand to hand.” They stated softly, “Though I think it is her way of gauging our individual abilities.” They confessed with a peer up the bar at Artur who was contently admiring himself in a metal nut dish.

Loba seemed to hardly need such training, “I think you’re probably right about that.” You chuckled, “Watching the test match…Well she really doesn’t need the training, huh?”

Bloodhound hummed in agreement, “She is up to something.” They commented mildly.

 “Like what? I thought you were all there for the contest and the titles…or whatever it is you all like.” You asked as you leaned over to finish the last of the liquor in your glass with another cringe and a cough. You decided one glass was more than enough for you as well.

“Titles?” Bloodhound hummed, “I have three titles of Apex Predator, but that is not why I do this…The hunt is what I live for.” They confessed with another look at their knife, their glove testing the sharpness of the edge before they levelled their gaze on you, “None of us are kind people, but there are far more dangerous folk than I in these games. I am here to honour my Gods and my family. Others for fame. Others for death.”

“That’s…” You swallowed, “I didn’t mean to assume anything.”

“You have done no harm. Now you know my reasoning.” Bloodhound nodded their head, “I live for the hunt and to honour the All Father.” They confessed quietly as they slid the knife away.

 There was a moment of quiet between the two of you before Bloodhound looked back at the door and to Artur who hopped along the bar back to the hunter’s arm. The Raven pecked at Bloodhound’s sleeve before he climbed back up to their shoulder, perched, watching you with two beady black eyes.

“I can’t say I understand it, but I respect it. It’s better than a lot of people.” You smiled at Bloodhound before remembering the jar of pickled meats you had gotten, “Oh, wait a minute. I know you want to go but I have something for you.” You rushed into the kitchen and rooted through the cupboards. Your washing robot chirped in confusion, large question marks floating over his screen as you finally pulled free the pickled game that you had purchased. Thankfully, when you rushed back into the bar, Bloodhound was still perched on their seat, watching you with their head slightly tilted in curiosity.

You placed the jar on the bar top, “I got these from the same merchant as the Brennivín. He said that anyone who liked Brennivín would love this.” You tapped the metal lid of the jar before sliding it closer to Bloodhound, “Take it as a thank you for what you’ve done for me.”

 Bloodhound eyed the jar before carefully pulling it closer with a gloved hand, their respirator whooshing quietly with air before they reached to undo the lid. It came off with a pop and carefully they leaned to look into the pickling liquid.

“Pickled pheasant.” They whispered before looking back to you, maybe to assess your motive and reasoning, “I have no had this since I was a child.” They confessed as they screwed the lid back into place, “There was an old woman, we all called Amma, who made the best. Sour but meaty. Cooked just right. She passed some years into my teenage life. So, I thank you. This is a fine gift, krúttið mitt.”

“You’re welcome.” You smiled before looking back to the orange goggles, which hid dangerous eyes, “You keep calling me that…What does it mean?” You asked.

Bloodhound shook their head, the metal beads and nuts of their headwear clinking before they stood from the bar seat, “Perhaps that is something for another day. It is late and I have a long way back to my residence.” They reached for the jar and tucked it under their arm, “Thank you, for the drink, gift and for your time.”

“Its not a problem. You’re actually lovely company.” You complimented.

“Thank you?” The hunter seemed a little flustered, “I am oft’ told I am…too stoic and boring.” Bloodhound gave a small breathy laugh before tipping their hat, “I will see you again. Good night.”

“Good night, Bloodhound.” You followed them to the door and closed it behind them, watching through the window as Artur took off into the sky and Bloodhound melted into the shadows past the streetlamps.

 The break between the seasons was a little longer this time. Various legends had injuries which needed to heal and personal business to attend to before they could get back to what they did best. That meant that Bloodhound had more free time to come to the bar. Sometimes they had a drink, but others they did not. The legend was not much of a drinker and you figured that out when one night they had around four drinks and swayed in their seat, back and forth, grumbling about each and every legend. Mirage came up often. It was usually how annoying the man was for a playboy. Loba came up a few times in the same category. A flirt by nature she managed to ruffle Bloodhound’s feathers often and the hunter made it clear how much they despised the foolery of it all. Other times, Bloodhound showed up after closing and simply talked about their day, carefully retelling tales they thought you would enjoy. That’s how the stories started. When you were alone, each with a drink and a snack, Bloodhound would think of a tale from their childhood, about the Gods or folktales which were too whimsical to ever believe. You were entranced by their voice and storytelling capabilities, and a few times you watched Artur settled down to sleep with the gentle rhythm. You yourself could have also fallen asleep with the peace that settled over you both in those moments. They became precious memories to you as you greeted Bloodhound at the door with a smile and a drink or food.

 All you had to wonder was if they felt the same way.

 The night before the season start was cold. The wintertime was rolling in, even to the city, and you made sure to keep the bar doors firmly closed the whole night and the heaters on. Even your washing robot complained about his coolants being far too cold. You shuddered in a jumper as you placed the last of the glasses away and peered at the clock. It was very late. A knock made you grin, even as your teeth attempted to chatter, and you headed to the small back door and unlocked the electronic system, smiling up at Bloodhound as they ducked a little to enter. Artur squawked on top of their head and you laughed as Bloodhound shook their head to make the Raven move.

“Good evening.” Bloodhound uttered, “Forgive me for being sudden, I know you have no said anything yet, but I have something to ask of you?” They asked in a rush, their voice betraying a small amount of urgency.

“Hi to you too.” You teased before stepping back to let them inside, “Sure. Is anything wrong?”

Bloodhound shook their head, “Nothing of the sort.” They promised before they reached to remove their hat, revealing a wrap of dark cloth hiding their hair and features from you still. They ducked their head and placed their hand over their heart, “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me out?”

 It was very old fashioned, but you remembered that Bloodhound had grown up very isolated away from the normal city life and culture. A smile split your face before you could control yourself.

“You mean like on a date?” You asked curiously.

Bloodhound swallowed audibly, “If that is agreeable to you? If not, then you may forget that this ever occurred…”

“No!” You rushed to catch their gloved hand and smiled, “I would be honoured…But let me get a coat, okay? Its too cold to be outside without too many layers.”

“Of course. Take your time. We will have to travel by hover to get there.” Bloodhound nodded as they turned back to the door, “I will wait at the front.” They promised.

“Okay. I’ll not be long. I just have to get a coat and lock up.” You rushed into the back and up the stairs to your small flat over the top of the bar. After snatching a warm coat from its hook and you rushed back and helped your washing robot back into the charging point before locking all the doors. Eventually, you appeared out of the front door and looked at the hovering vehicle.

 Bloodhound hopped from the vehicle and you looked at the old engines with a fond smile. It was similar to an ancient snowmobile, but it hovered above the ground with old technology, humming much louder than any of the newer modern models.

“I haven’t seen a mobile like this in a long time.” You nodded appreciatively of it.

“It is old, but she will get us to where we need to go.” Bloodhound promised with a soft chuckle, “It is up in the mountain.” They pointed up past the city outskirts to the mountain beyond, “The snow has fallen so we will need her to move through the terrain unhindered.” They stood by the side of the vehicle next to the back which was packed with fur and blankets. You smiled excitedly before you took hold of the hunter’s gloved hand and let them help you into the small back compartment. You sat carefully and laughed as Bloodhound flicked the hover mobile into action and punching the gas. The two of you streamed down the old roadways towards the outskirts, quickly leaving behind the blue light pollution as the fields turned into old pine trees.

 The mountain was cold, and you laughed brightly again as Bloodhound engaged the snow skis and the hover vehicle sprayed snow either side of you both. It was exhilarating to be out of the pollution riddled, busy city, and be in the fresh air of the countryside. You held your head high in the fresh, cold air and watched Bloodhound navigate the mountain with ease, their shoulders relaxed as they handled the controls with small turns and touches. You looked at the ancient trees with awe.

“Do you come up here often?” You asked over the hum of the engine.

“Not often enough.” Bloodhound replied, their feet planted firmly as they made a sharp turn and revved the engine again, heading up towards a large rock platform jutting from the side of the mountain. You looked at the place and wondered if it was warm, as there was no snow covering the grey surface of the stone.

“Is that where we’re heading?” You shuffled in your seat to look over the side of the vehicle.

“Yes. We are almost there.” Bloodhound peered over their shoulder, orange goggles glinting in the small amount of light from the lamps they had on the front and back of the snowmobile, “Keep inside. Some rocks could catch you.” They scolded as you headed towards the platform with another grumble from the old engine.

 “Careful. The snow hides holes and rocks.” Bloodhound jumped from the snowmobile before they held out their hand to help you out of the small seat in the back.

“Thank you.” You took their hand and hopped out before watching your breath steam in the air and laughing excitedly, rushing over the rocks to go and look out across the city below, “This is amazing!” You cried as Bloodhound dragged the blankets and a basket from the back of the vehicle, “How did you find this?”

“I have time to waste occasionally.” Bloodhound chuckled before they reached for another pack and you rushed to help, taking the large bundle of blankets to help them a little, “Thank you, krúttið mitt.”

“You still haven’t told me what that means.” You joked as you carried the blankets to the edge and unwrapped the cord which held them in a large roll.

Bloodhound placed the basket down before hefting the furs from their shoulder. They gazed over the mountain’s edge before replying, “It means something…like sweetheart.” They confessed in a hushed voice.

 You looked at them and smiled, sensing their unease, “That’s adorable.”

“I am glad you like it.” Bloodhound returned in a rush before looking at the pile of blankets you had set out and dragging them out on top of one another, “I did…I thought it was perhaps stepping over a boundary?”

“You worry a lot, you know.” You joked as you sat over the blanket and accepted a heavy, outstretched fur, “I…I can’t hate it, because its from you, and you mean a lot to me Bloodhound.”

“I…” Bloodhound seemed stunned, “You mean more than you know to me.” They draped another fur over you before sitting close and peering down at you through their orange goggles. You took the initiative and tugged your own furs over Bloodhound’s lap before sitting closer. You were close enough to feel the heat from their covered skin, but you only smiled and took one of their hands, linking your fingers before you looked out at the city, far, far below, and listened to the peace around the two of you.

 “I have brought food…like those…how do you say it. Picnics!” Bloodhound exclaimed softly as they dragged the basket over and squeezed at your hand, enjoying the contact even through their thick clothing.

“A picnic? What have you brought?” You asked as you leaned over Bloodhound’s lap to peer at the contents of the wicker basket. It was covered with a deep blue cloth and they dragged it away before revealing a small selection of food you had never seen before.

“They are delicacies from my home world.” Bloodhound pulled free a small jar and you recognised the pickled meat you had given them, “I thought it would be…nice to share them with you as I tell you a story. I had to spend a long time remembering this one.” They confessed as they pulled free a dense looking load of bread and a tub of butter, “If that is what you want?”

You tugged the furs closer and nodded as they sliced the bread on a plate and buttered you a piece, “Of course, you know I love the stories!” You gushed as you took the bread and took a bite, humming as Bloodhound fished you free a piece of meat and then showed you the mushrooms they had also covered in a form of sauce. It looked spicy and you gladly dug in as they cautiously reached for their respirator.

 Their hands reached for the straps and you watched the elastics loosen as they pulled the clips free and the respirator fell away with a quiet whoosh of air, revealing their scarred lower face. They smiled at you, revealing a single point of one canine before they took a moment to get used to the mountain air.

“Does it not hurt?” You asked worriedly, “I know…”

Bloodhound held up their hand before they coughed a few times over their shoulder, “No. It takes some time to adjust. The fresh air is fine, but the city. The air there hurts.” Bloodhound’s fingers squeezed your hand again in comfort as they coughed a few more times before finally growing used to the unfiltered air.

“These mushrooms…I’m amazed!” You cooed to distract them, happy to see them smile again as you gobbled another, “I never thought you…”

“That pickled foods would taste good?” Bloodhound teased with a small wheeze, “I confess, I thought you would hate them. They are an acquired taste, krúttið mitt.” They took a small bite of bread before seeking a large piece of game and tearing it apart easily with pointed teeth, chewing quickly before the rest of the piece followed. You only continued to eat, waiting for them to start the tale you wanted to hear.

 “Before there was day. Night ruled the frozen wastes.” Bloodhound started as they laid back, tugging you into the blankets so you could both gaze up at the bright stars hanging above the two of you, “There was a goddess of light, controlled by her ruler the Night, banished to a cage in the sky, twinkling in the halls of the Night as she wept tears of silver light from between the bars.” They gestured to the sky above, “She reached between the bars and begged the Night to let her free, to let her roam and dance across the night sky. He denied her, selfish and greedy for her light to himself. So bright was her light, he wanted to keep her beauty of silver flesh and hair for himself.” Bloodhound watched a start twinkle, “One day, the goddess wept again but she whispered to the tears as they dripped from her eyes, of the universe and adventure, of life and protection. The tears dripped from her cage and painted the halls with bright silver spots, blinding and glorious. Night returned to find her cage empty, the only remnants of his light the bright tears rolling from the stone and falling into the sky below, dancing over the blackness one by one, brightening the world with a glorious silver light. She danced that night, between her own tears, on pointed toes, jumping from light to light, causing the sky to twinkle with joy, even in the darkest of nights.” Bloodhound pointed to the North Star, “She wore a crown of stars, blessed in her freedom from her own tears, making constellations with her dances to defy the Night.”

 You gazed in wonder at the sky, “What did they call this Goddess?”

Bloodhound chuckled, “Nothing. She was simply, the stars.” They gestured to the stars again, “I think there is beauty in that story. She was free with her own will to dance and defy all those that would work against her.” They sighed, “It was my favourite as a child.”

“I can see why. It is a beautiful tale.” You whispered, trying not to disturb the peace that had settled over the two of you, “Even if it started so sadly.”

“Not as wonderous as you.” Bloodhound whispered next to your ear as they turned their head, “I never thought the stories would pale in comparison, but the Gods seem an eon away when I gaze at you.” Carefully, they reached to remove their gloves before they shakily reached to touch at your cheek, brushing their fingertips gently over your cheekbone. Bloodhound’s mouth parted as they followed the trail with their eyes. Their calloused hands touched your cheek and gently traced a path over your nose and then down to your chin, leaving a streak of heat in their wake, “It is blasphemy but I…” They swallowed, “I believe I love you. We have spent so much time together and you consume my mind no matter the task I undertake.”

 Fire laced your veins as you pulled the tracker forwards to press your lips to theirs, kissing their soft, scarred lips with fervour enough to demonstrate your point. Bloodhound was frozen for a moment before they returned the kiss, their arms wrapping around your back tightly as their goggles dug into the bridge of your nose. You didn’t mind. You pushed against them with a hum before moving away. Bloodhound tried to chase your lips, breathing a little heavier, a wheeze emanating from their chest.

“I love you too.” You whispered, cupping their cheeks.

Bloodhound smiled crookedly again before they reached up and pushed their goggles away. Their cloth dipped a little to reveal their bright ginger hair, tamed in braids and clasps, but you didn’t touch it, you simply looked into their deep, dark brown eyes, amazed by the mix of red in the colour. Their eyes were almost maroon. You kissed Bloodhound again.

“You…” They eased back, “You do not care that I am…”

“You are Bloodhound, master of the hunt and the one I love.” You gushed as you held them tightly, burying your face in their clothing, “Nothing else matters. We can take our time with everything else.”

“I…Thank you, krúttið mitt. You mean so much to me.” They confessed with another soft peck to your lips.

“I love you, Bloodhound.” You confessed again, affirming it even to yourself, as though it was not real.

“I love you too, my darling.” Bloodhound whispered against your ear as you clutched each other under the furs, laid before the night sky.

 The Stars twinkled across the central belt as the Goddess danced for the happiness that she had witnessed that night.

[chaos-in-bright-pink-hair-dye]

Jet Star is desert born but his parents still worked as scientists for BL/ind and Battery city when he was young. Most of his childhood he lived in the outer zones where his parents did some kind of research he doesn't really remember. He was fully unaware of what was happening arond him, no city full of opresion and with cameras on every corner watching your steps, no teens running on gasoline scavenging the desert and no war, only him, hiss parents and their little house in zone six. He's only seen the city few times when his parents needed to fill in some reports or run some test that weren't possible in the lab they had at their house. Even those few weeks vere enough for him to know he never wanted to live there, he hated the cold white walls, tired people with fake smiles and the fact he could never see night sky, not even from the top floors since there was too much light polution.

When he was six his parents finally decided to leave BL/ind and run off to be free, they found new home in the fifth zone. Unknowingly to Jet his parents had been planning to run away for few years and had spent all their free time and resources on repairing an old house that luckily survived the war so that they would have a place to live. After few months his father found an old broken droid that he took home and repaired so that she would take care of Jet when his parents needed to leave. She was the first droid he has ever seen and also his only friend which is why he still has a soft spot for droids.

Sadly BL/ind doesn't like when their top scientists run away and it didn't take them long to find them. It was only luck that Dr Death, Cherri Cola and few other killjoys were around at the time and came to help when they heard buzzing of lazers flying through the air. It was Dr Death who heard Jet crying and found him in the basement where his mother had hidden him, he was covered in blood that had seeped in through the wooden floor and no matter how hard Dr D tried to protect him from seeing the dead bodies and blood and guts lying all around the view onto his parents laying on the ground in puddle of blood in each other's arm is still something that wakes Jet up at night. So then 8 years old Jet was left in the desert with a man he didn't know but who saved his life and with feeling that he may never wash off the blood that covered him that day.

He didn't stay in the station for too long, it was still his home and he showed up once in a while but otherwise he was just wherever his legs brought him. He couldn't stand the thought of loosing anyone again which is why he left and why he never found a crew untill he met Ghoul. He doesn't know what made him stay with Ghoul, why he didn't leave her like he left everyone else, at that time she was still a kid without an arm and about two years younger that Jet, in other words someone Jet would maybe give a spare protein bar but deffinitely not someone who he would want around.

It was only few months since they met Ghoul when they decided to visit Dr D and Cherri just to find another two lost kids who have actually somehow built themselves quite a name, crashqueen with hair red like blood who still trembled at sight of the city wall and young motorbaby who was even younger than Ghoul and crept behing the older one like a shadow waiting to attack.

Jet also never wanted to take care of the Girl, not because he didn't like her but because he knew they were still kids themselves (as all four of them fully realized) and mainly because he didn't want her to go through the same thing he did. He didn't want to take her into their family just for her to see them bleed out on the ground, and as the faces of the rebelion and most wanted people on earth it was bound to happen.

[jeogiyall]

Growing Pains; Song Mingi

Word count; 21.5k

Genre; Mingi X Reader, Hongjoong X Reader, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, College AU, Angst, Fluff but Barely

Request: “ hey can I please request a college au with #11 and #17 with mingi from ateez! can it also be long and really angsty but with a comforting ending?? love your work by the way ❤ “

Additional; Featured Ateez, Rebound Hongjoong

Warnings; General Angst, Depicts Depression, Honestly Just Really Sad lol

A/N; this took me so freaking long to write, i’m really sorry to whoever requested it dhkdsfsdaf!! i hope you enjoy it! i haven’t been to college yet so this is all based off of books i’ve read or stories that i’ve been told. if anything is inaccurate i’m sorry, i’ll be learning about really soon lol. if you you like this fic please leave a like or some kind words! love you all, happy reading!

It was a summer day when the local neighborhood bullies pushed you off of your barbie themed bike for the umpteenth time. You remember scraping your knee, dropping your strawberry ice cream cone, then seeing the older boys approach you with malicious grins. But before they could fully reach you there was someone else, someone with limbs that were a bit too long and knees that were raw like yours. Any other day you would’ve found it unbelievably embarrassing that this bozo thinks he can handle this situation any better than you. As if you haven’t been handling this for years. 

But with him it was different. He somehow scared off the crude boys, then offered his hand to hoist you from the pavement while looking sadly at your discarded ice cream cone.

“I’m sorry about your ice cream.” You remember his voice being creaky, like it was always about to break (which it did, frequently,) “I’ll make you some whenever it snows! Th-that’s the only way that I know how to make it, but it’s really good I promise!” He was excited, almost like a puppy. Some part of you thought that it was cute, the bigger part knew he was probably just pitying you. Pitying you the same way that everyone does when you tell them of your constant bullying, only to forget about it in a week and leave you to the wolves. 

“Oh it’s okay, um…”

“Mingi.”

“Mingi!” You repeated the syllables, allowing their taste to form on your tongue. It’s sweet, like an orange soda and going to bed too late, “It’s okay Mingi, you don’t have to pretend like it matters.” Where you thought that his features would fade into relief they pull taught with sadness. He almost looked offended.

“You’re (Y/n,) right?” You nod shortly, eyes welling with tears for no apparent reason, “I-I’m not pretending. It matters.” Something about the way he gazes at you makes you think he’s been wanting to say that for a long time. 

“N-not really, they’re just mean sometimes. Besides, even if it did matter no one can stop it. No one’s ever stopped it.” It felt like you’d crossed a line. Cut the cake before you were supposed to, put out words you were meant to swallow down. Tears were really about to start falling, until Mingi took your skinned palms into his own larger ones. The clench of familiarity in your chest is enough to snuff out the stinging.

“I’ll stop it. I’ll do everything in my power to stop it.” He rubbed his thumb over the top of your hand, and it felt so nice. The gentle touch of someone who could be a friend. The notion that someone wanted you. It felt so nice and foreign and familiar all at once. So you nodded.

“Okay.” He squeezed your hand excitedly then surged forward, but stopped just before his arms could take home on your shoulders. You notice that he smells nice, like oranges and cinnamon.

“Can I hug you?” And just like that he’s made his way into the walls that you’ve already managed to build up.

“Okay.”

The boy holds true to his promise when two weeks later the boys approach you in the hallway, all cheery smiles and cold eyes. It’s a common exchange, they show up and tell you that you look nice today or some other fake compliment before demanding that you give them all of your lunch money. Which sounds stupid, until it’s two in the afternoon and you haven’t eaten all day and you won’t get to for another half hour.

But before anything can happen, Mingi is at your side and talking about his advanced math class. You watch as the boys slowly disperse at your friends silly rambling until it’s just the two of you. A deep breath floods your lungs as he softly punches your bicep in a way that’s starting to feel normal.

“Told you so. Do you want to come over for ice cream after school?” It’s silly how the words fill you with warmth, but you don’t even care. Because what you have here is so secure, and you know that it always will be.

And it always is. Mingi’s friendship is solid throughout your entire life, even when you started high school and nearly everything was shaky. Even when he grew out of the awkward limbs and squeaky voice, and all of the girls at your school wanted his attention. Day after day, Mingi would reject their proposals with a simple “I’m busy,” when the truth of the matter was that he would be sitting with you. Alone. In his basement, watching Star Wars on VHS tapes while eating strawberry ice cream and popcorn.

You remember turning to him one night, eyes drinking in the sight of his side profile illuminated by an exploding death star. He smiled widely, clapping his hands the way that he always does at that part. A deep sigh resounded through your chest, causing the boy to look at you with furrowed brows. For what must have been the millionth time, your eyes locked with his. Words weren’t even necessary for comfort.

“Why did you want to be friends with me? No one has ever cared about me too much, so why did you? I didn’t have anyone, why did you want to be my someone?” Your question sounds small, voice wavering gently.

“Maybe I needed someone too.” The response was so quick. Like he had pondered it before. As if he knew every doubt that you were having, and knew that you didn’t need to have them. 

From that night on, Mingi was more than your best friend. More than someone who you spent everyday with. No, he became your partner in almost everything. He took you to the school dance, stood beside you at every sports game, spent long nights trying to decipher math problems. No one was surprised when you two started applying to the same colleges, you weren’t even sure that you’d survive living without him. Judging by the pattering of his heart each time you entered a room, Mingi thought so too.

Over the years of close proximity and healthy doses of codependency, Mingi’s feelings towards you had progressed slightly past friendship. Not that he didn’t still think of you in that way, obviously. It’s just that whenever you fell asleep on his chest halfway through star wars marathons he’d have to will his heart to beat a tiny bit slower, or when his family brought you along to the beach he had to remind himself that it was rude to stare. The shift in his feelings started about three months into your sophomore year together, while stuffing your face with greasy fast food burgers after a wildly unimpressive football game. Neither of you ever cared about school sports too much, yet you were present every single week. When Mingi asked why, you claimed it was to get him out of the house. He’s pretty sure it was so that you’d have an excuse to get burgers afterwards, though. 

The boy distinctly remembers looking up over his boat of fries to see you with full cheeks, one strand of hair sticking to your slightly sweaty forehead. He remembers the bustling sounds of the diner going silent as his eyes drank in the sight of you for what felt like the first time ever. He remembers thinking that he wouldn’t know how to live life if it weren’t for you. Thinking that life wouldn’t be worth living if it weren’t for you.

“What?” You had questioned, nearly spitting out bits of cheeseburger onto your friends fries. If Mingi wasn’t so infatuated in that moment, he would have been disgusted. 

“You’re gross.” He laughed, one hand moving to nudge your shoulder. From that moment on, Mingi thought of you as just a little bit more than a friend. Just a little bit more than a movie marathon partner, just a little bit more than someone to spend late nights with. A little bit more than someone who helped move you into a college dorm, too. 

“Who on this forsaken earth thought that loft beds were a good idea?” You heave, flinging yourself onto the elevated mattress. It’s far from comfortable, and you’ve had to carry countless boxes up two flights of stairs due to the lack of an elevator, and the hallway smells distinctly of burnt microwave popcorn, but you have never in your life felt more free. High school was absolute torture, and while you did have Mingi to lean on you were still terribly lonely for those four years. Every other girl had a group to sit with, or someone to drag along to the bathroom with them in the middle of class. Having only one friend typically meant having absolutely no classes with them. 

But you’re here now, hundreds of miles away from the tattered building where you used to go to school. The only person on the entire campus that even knows your name at this point is Mingi, which in turn means he’s the only person that knows about your habit of loneliness. You intend to keep it that way, too. Every shy kid hears it from their parents, ‘College will be so good for you,’ ‘You’re really gonna come out of your shell in college,’ but those words meant more to you than an empty promise. In the last few months when you were so terribly lonely that all you had was Mingi and writing until your fingertips fell off, those words were your lifeline.

“Probably someone that didn’t get enough hugs as a kid.” Your friend responds while dropping the final box, which is filled with nothing but fuzzy sock, onto the pile that’s accumulating on the desk that’s squeezed under your cursed bed, “Looks like the last of it.” You nod, cheek brushing gently against the uncovered mattress. It creaks loudly when you shift, which is something you’re sure that you’ll never get used to.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help unpacking?” You barely look up while asking the question, nuzzling even closer into the awful bed. It takes a certain level of shamelessness to sleep on a fully uncovered mattress while a random stranger could walk in and drop all of their stuff on the floor, but you swear to the stars that you’re about there. Mingi appears to be the same way, taking to resting against your yet-to-arrive roommates desk.

“Yea I’m sure, my roommate’s this absolute giant, Yunho I think? He promised to help, so I’m all good.” A hollow laugh leaves your throat, aching with sleepiness. Mingi’s eyes soften ever so slightly before casting to your dirty tile floor.

 “Sounds nice.” There’s a nod, then a groan, then shuffling on everyone's part before Mingi is standing in your doorway and casting a soft gaze to your sleepy form.

“I’ll see you at dinner tonight.” A low humph resounds as your answer, but Mingi knows there’s no weight. You’re going to lay on that loft bed, sleeping like a rock until someone bothers to wake you up.

The someone just so happens to be Mingi, five hours later in a fresh hoodie that has your universities name embroidered across the chest. First you notice the perfectly made bed across the room, then the lack of another girl, then the scrent of oranges mixed with cinnamon, then finally Mingi nudging your shoulder from the ground while holding a Styrofoam bowl of hot food. 

“D-did I miss dinner?” Your eyes squint harshly, the way they always do when someone’s just woken you up. 

“Yea.”

“Sorry.” Mingis heart clenches tightly at your slurred speech, then again at your fluttering eyelids.

“S’okay, I brought you food.” His voice sounds warm, low. Like the Mingi that you’ve always known. You sit up and accept the to go bowl he’s passing up before patting the empty spot next to you. Within seconds the boy is next to you and offering utensils along with his arm around your shoulder, “It’s ramen.”

“Really?” The boy nods, fluffy brown hair falling onto his forehead as you excitedly rip the lid off. The smell of spicy ramen wafts through your otherwise empty dorm, and while it’s not the same as what Mingis mom would make from scratch on Winter days it still fills your belly with an immeasurable warmth, “Have I ever mentioned that you’re my favorite person?” Your shoulders relax thanks to a mouthful of slick curly noodles, Mingi can feel each individual muscle give way beneath his touch.

“Once or twice.” 

The two of you spend that night curled up on your bed sharing bites of the warm soup, and even once it’s done and the bowl is disposed of it still feels like old times. His arm is resting around you, the conversation is happening effortlessly, laughter is bouncing from every last tile. It doesn’t exactly fit in with your ‘new school, new me’  narrative, but that’s okay. You can always spend one night in comfort seeing as the following nights will be spent doing thousands of things out of your comfort zone.

When the time comes for him to walk back to his own dorm building, it’s well past dark outside, your clock ticking dangerously close to midnight from its perch on the (useless) nightstand. The boy hugs you in the doorway, making you pinky promise to not sleep through lunch tomorrow. 

“I won’t, I promise! Please don’t tell me that I left you sitting alone!” He exhales a short laugh at your furrowing eyebrows, his hand taking home on your shoulder in an attempt to squeeze out your tension.

“Not at all, Yunho has like a ton of friends. They’re funny, too.” 

“Really?” Mingi squeezes your shoulder one last before nodding. 

“Really.” 

He walks home in silence, the beginnings of an Autumn breeze kissing his cheeks. Upon arriving at the dorm Yunho spins around in his desk chair, smirking at the younger boy as if he knows something that Mingi doesn’t. 

“Where’d you go after dinner? We were gonna invite you to Wooyoung and Sans apartment.” Yunho leans back in the chair, it’s legs teetering precariously in a way that would debilitate elementary teachers.

“Oh, thanks! Maybe next time, I had to check on a friend.” Yunho quirks an eyebrow as Mingi begins to climb into his bed, kicking his shoes off at the base of the wobbly ladder.

“A girlfriend?” The question should be shocking, Yunho doesn’t even know that you exist for crying out loud, but he is so used to it. After being your best friend and caring for you as deeply as he does, he is so used to it.

“Nope, why do you ask.” The older boy simply shrugs, grounding his chair and picking up a stubby pencil. 

“Just an inkling. Lots of girls came up to you in line, you seemed less than interested.” Mingi ponders his response, because what do you even say to that? He doesn’t have a girlfriend, he’s not interested in anyone, he only has you to worry about. You, with your laugh that defines his childhood. You, with eyes that shoot wide anytime you’re worried about accidentally offending someone. You, who wants to make a new person in the coming year; and you, who Mingi wants to convince that you don’t have to change.

“Nope, she’s just a friend.” He decides, the words falling flat in the cramped room.

“Whatever you say.” 

Mingi lays sleeplessly in his bed for hours, his head pounding with the thought of how hard your connection with him is becoming. He loves you in more ways than one, but he doesn’t love the ache in his chest whenever he has to leave you. He doesn’t love that way that the weight of your touch haunts him for days, when for you it’s probably just something easy and meaningless. He doesn’t love being less to you than you are to him. 

But he does love you, in a way that’s impenetrable and everlasting. That alone is almost enough to make everything worthwhile. Almost.

*

It turns out the whole ‘new school new me’ thing is much harder than you previously anticipated. Naïve senior you thought that maybe you could meet new people through your roommate, but that didn’t exactly work out. It’s been two weeks and all you know about her is that she’s a junior, and that she really doesn’t want to be staying in a dorm. 

So, that’s obviously not going the way that you’d hoped. There is another person though, and he’s been a great help in meeting new people. He is a roommate, ironically enough. Just not your own.

Jeong Yunho, sophomore, fading blue hair, cheeks that look like freshly baked bread, brown eyes that sparkle a little bit when you ask about his major (biology, which is something that you know far too much about after a brief stop by Mingis dorm,) and a head that hits damn near every doorway it passes through. He has to duck to get into the cafeteria. But he’s sweet, like the guy who you could ask for help with homework. And he has so many friends, who are all terribly boisterous, that just eating lunch is like going out of your comfort zone.

Which is enough for you, but apparently not Mingi.

It’s a classic Friday night marathon, you already cuddled up on your bed with Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire pulled up on your laptop. The only thing left to accomplish is getting Mingi next to you and watching the movies, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan that your friend has. When he opens the door to your dorm you immediately notice the lack of Harry Potter pajama pants and popcorn. Instead he’s opted for movie night chic, with jeans that have something written on the left thigh and a white t-shirt that hangs off his lithe torso. His caramel brown hair is pushed back in a way that you’re not used to seeing, but it looks good. Attractive, even. There’s something about seeing him all dressed up and handsome while you’re in measly shorts and a platform 9 3/4 t-shirt that makes your cheeks go hot.

“I didn’t tell you before because I knew that you would say no, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa are having a party tonight and we’re going. Surprise!” Your mouth drops open at Mingi’s form of greeting. Before you can even process what’s been said he’s shaking the rail of your loft bed and chanting ‘Get up! Get up!’ 

“What about Harry Potter night?” You question dumbly while shimmying down your ladder. Obviously Harry Potter night has been discarded in favor of a house party, you don’t need Mingi to say anything to gather that much information, “Seonghwa is okay with a party in their apartment?” Mingi laughs gently, a soft shake of his shoulders and glittering eyes. It’s the only familiar thing about your interaction thus far. 

“The boys said that it’ll hardly be a party, probably too few people and too many wine coolers. Maybe some jazz, Seonghwa’s pretentious like that y’know?” He opens your closet door for you and starts to wrack through the few dresses in the very back. You’d never had much of a reason to buy any dresses. 

“Believe me, I know.” Seonghwa was one of the first of Yunho’s friends that you’d met, and while he wasn’t an ass about it he was definitely a little pretentious. It’s probably hard to be an art major for three years and not be pretentious, “Do I have to wear a dress?”

“You don’t have to, but-” 

Long story short, you find yourself sitting on a suede couch clad in a red plaid mini dress that you only bought for a neighborhood Christmas party in your sophomore year and your one pair of worn leather boots. It’s a tight fitting thing, meant to be worn over turtlenecks and with tights, but Mingi insisted that it would look good alone. He’s not wrong either, ever since you set foot into the surprisingly swanky off campus housing your lunch mates have been showering you in compliments. It started with Wooyoung wolf whistling and asking for your phone number, then Hongjoong asking if he could’ve complimented you in a way that was any weirder, then San giving you a stemless wine glass and announcing ‘A sparkling cider for the lady,’ in the most offensive British accent you’ve ever heard. It was for sure a strange form of flattery, but flattery nonetheless. 

“I’m sorry about Wooyoung, he apparently hasn’t been house trained yet.” Hongjoong jokes while settling you onto his plush, red hair briefly sweeping in front of his attentive brown eyes, “Though we can’t really blame him because of the whole sports medicine thing.” You hear a brief ‘I heard that!’ waft from the kitchen, where Yunho and Seonghwa have gathered the majority of the boys. It makes Hongjoong giggle a little bit, and the sound is so clear and gentle that you find yourself giggling too.

“I guess we can’t.” Your eyes move to take in the living room, which is filled with your lunchmates and some extra people who you don’t know in the slightest. First there’s San, your fellow literature major who just switched from middle school education. Then Yeosang, a quiet sophomore who majors in political science. He usually only talks at lunch to tell his table mates that they sound ridiculous, but every once in a while he'll indulge their antics. Lastly there’s Jongho, the only other freshman in the room with you that you know of. You’ve only just finished your second week but everyone’s already expecting him to be the star student of the music program for the next four years. 

Everything about this situation reads anxiety. Mingi is already in a different room, you’ve barely held a conversation with any of these guys before, someone in the corner is definitely getting a little too drunk into a ficus tree in the corner of the room. But you aren’t nervous. A little tense maybe but who wouldn’t be? You certainly aren’t nervous the way that high school you would’ve been nervous.

“He’s not wrong, you know.” Your eyebrows shoot up with a quiet ‘hm?’ behind your lips. It’s mostly because you think you’ve missed something that Hongjoong said.

“Not wrong about what?” He looks at you with his brown eyes and a lopsided grin, and when you look back it feels like he’s asking for permission to unravel you.

“That you look pretty.” 

It’s not his words that take you off guard, or how he pinches your cheeks afterwards, or even him getting off of the couch and bouncing into the kitchen like a kid coming down the stairs. Your heart barely announces a flutter, your cheeks barely give way to heat. He was probably tipsy. It’s just that no one has ever noticed you in that way. No one other than Mingi has ever really called you pretty.

So it leaves an impression, to say the least.

Quickly after Hongjoong leaves, San takes his place, Jongho sitting on the floor and nuzzling into the older boy's legs. The three of you talk for hours, Jongho sharing your disdain for grumpy roommates (he says that Yeosang throws pillows at him when he starts practicing) and San for Beowulf. He does mention that your creative writing class is fun, to which you agree. Fun, but ever so stifling for creativity. 

It’s a simple kind of conversation, the kind that doesn’t tell anything too personal but still gives insight into the people having it. San throws in a few anecdotes about him and Wooyoung in high school, Jongho shows you a bruise he got from fumbling up the ladder to his loft bed. You even include a few of the controversial star wars opinions that you and Mingi came up with at three in the morning so many years ago. It’s simple, weightless.

When Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night he pauses outside of the door, one hand brushing a stray strand of hair away from your eyes.

“Hongjoong asked me about you.” He says, a smile playing onto his lips. Something about the way that it doesn’t fully reach his brown eyes makes it seem sad.

“Really?” The memory of Hongjoongs hands on your face, his cute voice burning the words ‘you look pretty’ into the back of your mind, “W-What did he ask?”

“Just basic stuff. How long we’ve known each other, your major...” He wants to add ‘whether or not we’re dating,’ because that’s the question that struck him the most. Mingi doesn’t know Hongjoong too well, but he knows that the older boy is sweet and respectable. If Mingi explained all of this mess to him, Hongjoong probably wouldn’t think twice, just go about his day and be friendly as always. But Mingi didn’t explain it, he said that you guys are just friends and that it’s never been anything more than that. Hongjoong smiled in a way that made Mingi’s chest ache and thanked him before bouncing off to entertain Seonghwa. He remembers feeling taken aback, then like he should go talk to the pretty girl that’s been eyeing him in calculus, “I can’t do movie night next week. I-I have a date.”

And it’s something about those words that manages to crawl into your body and find a home in your heart, then pump throughout your entire bloodstream. You shouldn’t be upset. You have no reason to be upset. Mingi is your best friend, and you were stuttering about Hongjoong mere seconds ago, and you shouldn’t be upset right now.

“Oh, okay... Just don’t forget about me.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but Mingi looks at you like you’re the moon. With care glimmering in his irises and adoration adorning the glow of his cheeks. You think to yourself that there’s something special in the air, then that you shouldn’t be upset.

You have no reason to be upset.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

*

The next time that you see Mingi is at lunch on Monday, but he doesn’t take his normal seat next to you. He can’t when you’re already sandwiched between Jongho and San, who are talking in intense detail about their terrible morning classes. Sometimes you can join in, seeing as you and San share classes, but for the most part they just banter. Hongjoong is taking up the seat in front of you, his chin resting on his palm while he nods attentively to everything the younger boys are saying. He reminds Jongho that he needs to be getting sleep, and that life doesn’t happen in practice rooms. He tells San to eat his food whenever the boy gets a little bit too excited. He even asks about your day, to which you respond with something simple and lame. When you mention being tired he gives you the rest of his coffee.

Mingi comes to the table nearly twelve minutes after you do, and it’s not really a big deal that he can’t take his usual seat. There’s a chair between Wooyoung and Yunho at the end of the table, which is perfectly fine. The two of you know each other well enough that a simple look can be translated to ‘It’s okay, we’ll see each other later.’ Which is perfectly fine. You both have a lunch that is perfectly fine.

The week continues on like that, though. Missing each other by a hair's breadth. On Wednesday his intro to statistical methods test goes so late that he misses your scheduled coffee run, then when you tried to surprise him in his dorm later that night, Yunho had to inform you that he was holed up in the library with some of the people in his calculus class (Yunho let you come in and made hot chocolate in the Keurig, so overall the night wasn’t too bad.) Then on Thursday you skipped lunch, opting instead to finish the assigned Beowulf reading at the last possible minute. You hated every minute of it, but not as much as you would’ve hated failing your second ever quiz. San sent you a picture of himself and Hongjoong pouting around your empty chair and Mingi in the background laughing at something that Wooyoung had done to Seonghwa. 

Friday night feels more lonely than you had expected. Your bed is empty without the taller boy sitting in it beside you. The movie gets cut off halfway through when your roommate stumbles in and announces that she’s going to sleep, which is the most she’s ever said to you at one time. You turn off your laptop and fall into the uncomfortable bed that you’re slowly getting used to. This is okay. You remind yourself that you shouldn’t be upset and that this is okay. 

Right as sleep is about to wash over the room your phone lights up with a message from Mingi. It’s a picture of his hand cradling the chin of a golden retriever puppy, and beneath he’s written ‘we found these dogs in the courtyard. sleep well :)’ 

After reading the message three times over and staring at the image for ten minutes you start to believe your words. This is okay.

You shouldn’t be upset and this is okay.

*

Your high school had three classes per semester then one free period for a study hall. Mingi would always make this huge deal out of lining up your study halls, claiming that he needed help with his English classes. In reality you were the person that needed help with classes, namely math and science, but he’d always insist that it was because of whatever book he had for assigned reading in the upcoming class. 

There was this one semester, though, where you had four classes. Anatomy, geometry, personal finance, and then your absolute saving grace. Creative writing. 

It was a true blessing, honestly. Since every other class was absolute torture, and you didn’t really have any Mingi time to take the edge off of your day, that class was your favorite part of nearly every day. You would kind of use it as an escape, just sit in the isolated corner desk, tap the toe of your then fresh leather boots, and write about any and everything that came to mind. The teacher liked one of your stories so much that he framed it. 

Seeing as that was your only experience when you saw ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ on your schedule you were ecstatic. You thought that you’d just get to sit and write anything that you wanted. Needless to say, it is nothing at all like your high school class. The teacher speaks too quickly and assigns nearly a million readings. He waited four weeks to let the students do any actual writing, a fact that San was most grateful for. You, however, were dying.

You think the assignment is kind of stupid, too. Focus on a setting, no characters. Just the setting. It took a while for you to get it just right, but after about a week of staying up past midnight you wrote something that was actually good enough to read. It was nearly two pages about Florence Italy, going in depth about the winding roads. You commented that they were the kind of streets that lent way to deep discussion. The kind that begged for secrets to be shared.

All in all, you were quite proud of it. You even considered showing it to Mingi, until it came back with a bright red C sketched on the front. It was covered top to bottom in red ink markings, none of which were comments about your grammar. No, these notes were personal. This sentence is lifeless. Your tone shift is unnecessary. I’m not sure that this is actually in Italy. 

San asked about your grade on the way to your European literature class that day, right as you’re reading over the harshest note of them all. He says that he got an A minus, which makes perfect sense. San isn’t lifeless, he doesn’t do unnecessary things. 

“My grade is fine.” You choke out, eyes endlessly tracing over the red notation. 

‘This feels lonely.’ 

In a way, you suppose that it is. 

*

“So you did this every single Friday night?” Yunho questions while sandwiching his way onto Mingi’s bed. It would probably be normal to be upset that your movie is being infiltrated by your friends roommate and Hongjoong, but you’re just so grateful for the movie night to actually happen that it doesn’t matter.

“Sounds about right.” You’re about to comment that you’ve skipped the past two weeks, but the words twinge with resentment right as they’re about to come out. So you swallow them down while scooching into Mingi’s side. Hongjoong immediately fills the new space beside you, his hands occupied with fuzzy blankets that have various patterns. One has corgi’s and hearts printed from corner to corner.

“I don’t know if that’s lame or endearing.” The older boy comments while spreading the blanket you’d been eyeing across your lap. Yunho laughs while taking in a mouthful of microwave popcorn, and you think to yourself that this isn’t so bad. Having a movie night with more people than usual is better than having none at all. There’s more snacks and extra blankets now, so you don’t have to burrow into Mingi’s comforter halfway through and tangle your legs together. Because you’ve never wanted to do that before, it just happened out of habit and necessity. Definitely habit and necessity. Definitely. 

There’s also not much difference in the essence of movie night. Someone still interrupts serious scenes to crack a joke, you still tell Mingi that he’s breathing too loud, by the time the credits are rolling you still find grease stains on the underside of Mingis comforter. It’s from all of the years of him using the plush blanket in place of a napkin, and the years of you telling him that he’s going to stain it.

Mingi walks you back to your dorm that night. When he stops in front of the door and lets out a deep exhale it almost feels like you haven’t skipped the past two weeks. It almost feels normal.

“I’m glad that at least one of us has a cool roommate.” He comments idly, eyes raking over your growing smile.

“With cool friends.” There’s a gentle laugh, and you’re not exactly sure why. Nothing is funny, just familiar. Maybe a bit tense, though you suppose you don’t know the reason for that either.

“Yea. Cool friends.” Mingis feet shuffle, brown hair flopping onto the bridge of his nose as his gaze takes purchase on the floor. He smells like oranges and cinnamon. He always has. You think that he looks nice like this, with the flickering hall lights illuminating his face. This is probably what Mingi was always meant to look like. Real, and handsome, and grown, “I think we should switch movie nights to once a month.”

And if this whole thing was a little tense before, like an ornament hanging on by it’s hook around one green needle from a Christmas tree, it’s worse now. It’s broken shards of glass all over your living room floor, willing and ready to pierce your foot and stain the carpet. It’s the gaping hole in your Christmas tree. It’s your mom's favorite Santa no longer having a head.

“O-oh... Once a month?” Mingi nods gently. It almost looks like he doesn’t want to be nodding, but he is. He is, and it’s pulling your heartstrings like an orchestra. 

“Yea, I just figured that’d be easier since we’re so busy. Y’know, with classes and friends...” You wonder if he’s going to say something else. Like dates with girls from his calculus class. He never does, but you can feel it.

“I know, I-I’m like... Super busy with all of my f-friends.” A heartless laugh leaves you, and Mingi replies with a smile that doesn’t quite crinkle his eyes, “But yea. Once a month, once a month. Once a month totally works for me.” He takes a step towards you.

“Look, (y/n-)” You think that he’s about to comfort you, which of course would be welcome. Comfort from your very best friend is always welcome. It’s just that a small part of you is worried that he’s going to take it back. You’re worried that he’s going to tell you that it’s whatever and you can have movie night every week until you die and that he’s going to live life in college dragged down by your stupid, lonely self. You’re worried that he’s going to drop it, and that you’ll never live it down.

“It’s fine, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, yea?” Before the boy can even fully nod, which makes you sick to your stomach for no apparent reason, you’re scrambling desperately for the doorknob to your dorm. You think that you may hear him say goodbye, or wait, or something. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Everything matters. You just want to be inside. 

When you get inside your roommate is sitting on her bed with earbuds in, though they don’t appear to be playing anything. She looks at you with furrowed eyebrows, and you can’t really blame her. In the rush to get away from Mingi you probably ended up looking a bit frazzled. 

“Um... Are you okay?” She questions, her mouth making a perfect circle. You nod fervently while bringing your palms up to pull at your cheeks. They’re wet. You’re not sure when they turned wet. 

“I’m fine. It’s okay.” 

Sometimes you say something so many times that it doesn’t sound real anymore. I’m okay, this is okay. I’m okay, this is okay, This is okay, this is okay. Okay, okay, okay...

If your roommate hears you sniffling and shaking while alone in bed that night, she makes no comment. It’s the first thing she’s given you to be grateful about all year. 

*

One of your biggest concerns before starting college was walking to classes alone. All throughout high school Mingi would walk with you across the tiny campus, somehow managing to drown out the crowded hallways with laughter and tips for quizzes. When you were taking discrete mathematics he’d walk backwards down the hallway while showing you flashcards. 

Obviously you knew that wouldn’t be feasible in college. You might not have known many things before coming here, but you knew that vastly different majors would lead to vastly different classes. You knew that Mingi wasn’t going to wake up at eight am every Wednesday to walk you to your lectures. Knowing didn’t seem to make the actual act of it any easier in your brain.

But after just one week you started to look forward to the trek to your classes. At first it was because you could listen to the assigned readings in the amount of time it took you to get from your door to your desk, however that hasn’t been necessary since your social calendar became suddenly clear. You just do the readings at night in your loft bed, which hasn’t gotten any comfier, then use the walk as a time to relax. To think without impositions, even though they’d find their way to you most mornings. 

Today your imposition is dressed in jeans with painting above the knee and a sweater that’s too big, tufts of red hair sticking out from beneath his black beanie.

“What are you doing out so early?” Hongjoong asks while jogging to take up the spot next to you, pulling on the strap of your bookbag as he arrives. When you fully look at his face you can see a dusting of pink across his nose. You think it’s from the light fall wind.

“I could ask the same thing of you.” You think that he looks pretty like this, with inklings of the rising sun taking purchase on his face. You almost think that anyone would look pretty like this.

“I’m out for a walk. Also grabbing muffins from the campus cafe, we’re out of food and Seonghwa’s mgonna be hungry.” His voice sounds groggy with sleep, like maybe he hasn’t been awake long. The notion conjures an image in your head of Hongjoong detangling himself from bed and trekking out to campus all so that his friend would surely have something to eat. It makes this whole exchange just a little bit easier, “Your turn.”

“I have an eight am class.” The boys eyebrows knit together as he looks at his darkened phone screen.

“It’s seven fifteen.” 

“... I don’t like my roommate?” At that wimpy explanation he laughs, a gentle laugh that was made for morning, then hooks his arm through your own. The weight is something that you’ll have to grow used to.

“You kids are gonna drive me insane, I swear it.” His free hand pinches your cheek which is growing increasingly warmer. You hope that you two will continue walking like this, quiet and unbothered and maybe a little bit childish.

“Hongjoong?” You question as he begins to pull you down a brick paved road that you’ve yet to travel.

“Hm?” He answers like nothing about this is strange. 

“My class is the other way.” The boy giggles at your concern, wanting to reach out and run his thumb over the crease in between your eyebrows. Something about your demeanor, which isn’t far off from a stray kitten, clues him in that you wouldn’t respond well. 

“We’re taking a detour.” 

“If you don’t tell me where we’re going I’ll pull out my pepper spray.” This sentiment is the first thing all morning that’s made him stop in his tracks, casting a puzzled look to your bulky bookbag.

“Do you actually have pepper spray in there?” You can feel a smile edging on your lips as your eyes click with his, and while you know that he’s not giving you butterflies or sparks it does feel like something. Like the first gulp of soup on a cold day, or the sound of orange leaves crunching beneath your sneakers. 

“Tell me where we’re going and you won’t have to find out.” Obviously, you don’t have any. It’s been in your cart on Amazon for forever but you’re not one hundred percent sure about how to order things to a dorm, and you figure that your first package shouldn’t be a literal weapon. 

“We’re getting coffee, and you are terrifying.” The comment lights your cheeks with fire as you scurry to catch up with him once again.

“Well you’re the only person that thinks so.” The boy walks so quickly that your feet are nearly going in double time, face puffing with cold air while you speak.

“I doubt that.” You notice that his face is pink again, though you’re not too sure that it’s from the cold this time.

“You’re probably the only person who thinks anything of me.” Hongjoong stutters like he’s going to stop walking again but you tug on his arm once more and he’s back in full swing. 

“That’s so not true. Yunho thinks you’re sweet, San says you’re a wonderful writer, Mingi clearly thinks that you’re amazing.” That last statement finds a crawl in your chest and begins to fill your lungs with pink daisies. Amazing. Mingi clearly thinks you’re amazing. 

“Sure.” You answer with twiddly fingertips and a thumping heart. Luckily you’re standing in front of the campus cafe before you can think too hard on it.

Hongjoong orders two salted caramel hot chocolates, a black coffee, and three blueberry muffins. When you asked why he didn’t get you a coffee as promised he told you that the coffee here is ass and Seonghwa only drinks it because he’s starved for energy. You don’t have the heart to tell him that the frappuccino you order has so much cream and sugary syrups in it that you could barely even call it coffee, and it tastes pretty darn good. It’s not a big deal. Hot chocolate is good too.

“This is really good.” You offer later while walking through the campus quad. There’s not many people out this early, just a girl you’ve seen in your lecture once or twice and two boys playing checkers on the grass. Hongjoong keeps stepping on the crunchy orange leaves then smiling like a little kid. It makes you think that he’s growing on you, then that you thought that you’d be doing this kind of stuff with Mingi. 

You don’t really know why you can’t let yourself enjoy this. You’re in the quad with Hongjoong, waiting out the clock until your class starts, and this precious sweet boy is playing in the fall leaves. This should be a perfect morning, but you can’t help feeling sad. Feeling incomplete. 

“I know, right?” He answers, bouncing over to you wearing a bright expression, “Now get up pretty girl, we’re playing in the leaves.” 

“I have a lecture.” He takes your hot chocolate and places it on the empty seat next to you before slotting his hand into your own. His skin is soft, like blankets fresh out of the dryer.

“And before that you’re going to have some fun, let’s go!” He’s smiling at you expectantly, so what are you supposed to do other than drop your hot chocolate and join him?

Your first impression is that he plays with people in the way that a puppy would play with another puppy. He’s quite fond of kicking up piles of leaves just to see how tall they’ll go, then you kick them up further and he gets flustered. He then proceeds to throw leaves in your face, then picks them out of your hair before you can get mad enough to throw them back. You think that this is a lot of fun, then that your trusty boots make a nice sound when the leaves crunch under them.

There’s this one time when you try to kick up the leaves and your leg slips out from beneath you, which sends you flailing backwards into the leaf pile. Hongjoong rushes over immediately, his face half concerned but mostly lit with laughter. He asks if you’re okay, though it’s through indecipherable wheezing so you can’t really hear him. The boy is laughing so hard that he ends up laying next to you, red hair and sparkling eyes mingling with the orange leaves seamlessly. You think that he looks like a photograph. 

If you show up to your lecture ten minutes late and with crushed leaves sprinkled through your hair, no one mentions it. 

*

Movie night with Wooyoung and San is fun. The popcorn is a little bit burnt, courtesy of San, but their couch is far more comfortable and blankets far fuzzier. Sans burning a candle that smells like cookies, and you feel like nothing could be more accurate to him. 

“This is nice, I’ve been meaning to rewatch Harry Potter.” Wooyoung comments while sinking in between you and San on the couch. He’s cradling a bowl of slightly browned popcorn and shoving it into his mouth as if there’s nothing wrong. 

“Yea, definitely. I like spending nights in.” You’re about to tell them that you considered this a night out, but then you think that’s terribly sad and that you’d sound really lame. So you nod instead.

They’re pleasant movie guests, San makes funny comments every once in a while. Wooyoung starts to fidget about halfway through the first movie so he spends the first portion of the second one making a fresh batch of popcorn. It doesn’t burn this time. Him and San spend almost the entire movie tossing popcorn across the room and into each others mouths.  Overall it’s not such a bad night.

When all is said and done and you’re helping them pick up misfire popcorn kernels, the boys get to talking. They ask you what Mingi’s up to that he couldn’t make it to a Friday movie night. You’re going to tell them the truth, that Mingi’s out on a different date with a different girl from a different class. You’re going to tell them, but the words taste so terribly bitter on the way up.

“Um... I’m not sure. Probably homework.” Wooyoung tosses an unpopped kernel so that it hits you square in the forehead. You simply giggle before throwing it into your trash bag.

“We should’ve invited him! Him and Yunho, it could’ve been a whole thing!” San shouts from the kitchen. It makes your skin prick up with goosebumps. Because while you are definitely lonely, and you definitely miss Mingi, you’re not sure that you could handle his response. You’re not sure that you could handle asking Mingi to come to one of your most prized traditions and him saying no. Him saying no because he’s out with another girl and giving her his undivided attention, because that is how he is, and you couldn’t handle hearing him saying no to you. He never used to say no to you.

“I had fun with just you guys, though!” They tackle you in a bear hug, and it feels nice. It really does, it’s just that you still have that nagging feeling in your gut. Like your professor is right. Like you’re alone.

*

Your next ‘Introduction To Creative Writing’ assignment is about characters. The rubric clearly states that it should just be about the people and nothing else. Points will actually be deducted if you mention a setting.

So you wrote two characters, a boy and a girl. The boy finds the girl too bland so he asks if she’ll share a secret with him. She thinks for a long time while the boy studies her face, and he loves every corner of it. Finally, she leans in to whisper something. You don’t tell the audience what she’s said, but you do tell them that it makes the boy laugh. Then he kisses her cheek and they laugh some more, until time dies out and the stars no longer shine. You liked it from the moment that you started writing it, and by the end it was something that you were genuinely quite proud of.

Apparently pride wasn’t enough to get you a much higher grade. It’s passed back looking exactly like the last one, a bright red C and thousands of red notations. You flip to the rubric in the back to see that everything is marked straight down the middle. 

You didn’t mention a setting, but you didn’t make the setting irrelevant.

Your characters didn’t interact with the setting, but they barely interacted with each other.

You included characters, but they were not lively and enjoyable.

And you’re not quite sure why everything you write is so dead. You’re not a person who feels dead, you’re funny and full of life. You have things to say that are important so you write them into stories rather than speaking them out loud. You’re good at this, so why are you getting C’s? Why is an old man with a beard that touches his belly button saying that you aren’t good at this? 

When you get back to your dorm you rip the paper to shreds and cry alone in your loft bed. Mingi texts you to ask when you’ll be at dinner, you tell him that you’re too busy with homework. He asks if he should bring you something, but you lie that it’s all covered. You’re not entirely sure that you could handle seeing him right now. 

When your roommate comes in she seems a little drunk. She clambers over to her bed then finally looks up to you. It’s not your finest moment, cheeks streaked with mascara and shreds of paper all around you.

“You okay?” She slurs out. You think that it’s a dumb question, because obviously you aren’t, but at least she’s trying. Trying is good.

“I’m fine” Right as the words come out you know that they sound fake, but you don’t know what else to do. Normally when you feel like this Mingi is just a phone call away. Every time you’ve tried to call him in the past week it’s gone to voicemail. When a week has really torn you down like this one you’d always have a movie night to look forward to. Mingi made it clear that he wasn’t too keen on that anymore. You usually have your shoulder to cry on. Now you don’t even think you’ll be able to keep yourself together if you see him.

And it’s hard for a lot of reasons. Because you need Mingi but Mingi doesn’t need you. Because everything feels so wrong unless you’re desperately trying to salvage your longest friendship. Because maybe this friendship meant a little bit more than just that, but you’ve realized entirely too late.

*

You usually wake up at seven thirty in the morning. It’s not because you want to, or because your roommate is too loud climbing into her bed at night, or because the sun comes into your dorm weirdly. You just go to sleep late, because you can’t force your brain to stop, then wake up early. Because out of all of the things that are going wrong, why wouldn’t you also get less than four hours of sleep every night?

But it’s not all bad. Every other morning you meet Hongjoong in the quad. Sometimes it’s with a book, sometimes with your latest creative writing assignment. He’ll read them and make comments. He always says that it’s good, and it’s fun to believe him for a little while. 

This morning you come to him empty handed, just like he said to last time. There’s supposed to be a surprise. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that you don’t like surprises. 

“Good morning, pretty lady!” He’s always so chipper in the mornings, with his eyes crinkling happily around the edges and bright red hair bouncing. Today he’s wearing a puffy coat that’s nearly ready to swallow him whole paired with jeans that have a painting sprawling up the calf. You had recently found out that he and Seonghwa were responsible for the illustrations on everyone's clothes. Mingi gave them his favorite jeans after two lunches spent in the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” You were clearly finding it hard to be as excited.

“Did you read the student newsletter yesterday?” Cold air puffs from his lips along with the words, and his face lights up when you shake your head no. The collar of his coat is brushing his cheeks, “So it’s really a surprise then!”

He’s so precious and childlike in that moment that you decide there’s no harm in indulging him.

“What’s really a surprise?” He’s already started walking so you have to do a half jog to catch up, once you’re at his side he starts to skip so that you have to jog even further. This happens every once in a while whenever your friend is feeling extra punchy. You often find it hard to match that energy, but something about this early November morning has you more present than ever.

“Catch up to me and I’ll let you know.” He reaches into his pocket and appears to pull something out, then hang it over his head. You know there’s nothing in his hand. It’s empty and you know that, nevertheless you chase after him. The boy laughs loudly before sprinting away. Once you’ve caught him you start jumping for the mythical gift hanging over his head, which he finds unreasonably funny. The sound rings off the brick path beneath your feet, and it’s like the sun is finally rising. You think that’s the kind of person that Hongjoong is, the kind that would bring the sun up just to make someone else smile. 

When you open his clenched hand he slips it into yours, fingers curling ever so gently around your own. His skin feels soft, it makes you wonder what kind of lotion he’s using.

“I caught up.” Your voice sounds small. Hongjoong thinks it’s bright, “What’s my surprise?”

“There are puppies in the quad, I think they’re up for adoption. I figured you’d like to see them.” He’s perfect. On paper Hongjoong should be the perfect boyfriend. He takes you to see puppies, buys you hot chocolate, makes you play in leaf piles, you’re pretty sure he’s redone his entire sleep schedule just so that you two can keep up with these morning strolls. You so badly want Hongjoong to be perfect.

But there’s just something off. Maybe it’s because his one hand can’t fully engulf both of yours, or because he doesn’t tower over you with what feels like two extra feet. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t smell like orange zest and freshly ground cinnamon. 

Maybe it’s because he’s not Song Mingi.

“I would like to see them.” You respond, squeezing onto the boy's hands. Hongjoong is perfect, but he’s just not right, “I’d like that very much.”

*

You’re not quite sure how it happened, but San seemed to notice that your Fridays were becoming more and more lonely. After that one Harry Potter movie night you did with him and Wooyoung in their shared apartment you’ve not really done anything. Hongjoong invited you to another house party, and you were going to go, but when you reached for the handle to exit your dorm you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Something about going and knowing that Mingi would be there, probably with his date of the week, made your mouth taste sour. So you stayed home instead, sitting in your bed and struggling with a creative writing assignment. You’d occasionally snack on some granola bars that Mingi stashed in the bottom of your closet when he moved you in.

Those were your plans for tonight, but San grabbed you just before class ended. He told you that Wooyoung was planning dinner but the recipe serves four so he figured that they could invite you and save the rest as leftovers. You agreed, fully expecting that you’d chicken out at the last second and stay home, yet here you are. Standing in their kitchen while sipping on a shirley temple that San mixed up for you, Wooyoung is occasionally stirring the simmering pot on the stove. San invited Hongjoong at the very last second so those two are sitting at the kitchen table and trying to talk each other's ears off. You find your way into the empty seat beside Hongjoong and let his hand rest on your thigh. He rubs gentle circles on your jeans, and it nearly gives you butterflies.

“Dinner is almost done, would you guys mind grabbing some drinks from the garage.” The two boys nod before scurrying towards the front door and shared garage. Wooyoung takes the seat across from you, “Do you think you’re gonna date him?”

“Who?” You ask, probably in a less defensive way than he’d anticipated.

“Hongjoong.” Wooyoung doesn’t look as playful as usual, the childlike glint gone from his eyes. If anything the boy appears worried, probably for his friend Hongjoong. Part of you wants him to be worried for you. You’ve barely eaten anything except for granola bars in the past week because you don’t want to risk running into Mingi in the cafeteria. Your five hours of sleep every night has been slowly dwindling down to four. Mingi has moved movie night twice this month. You still can’t get a good grade on a creative writing assignment. 

“I don’t know.” You think that you probably are. You think that you mostly want to.

“But you aren’t going to date Mingi?” It feels like the air around you is made of cotton, your mouth has gone completely dry.

You don’t know why you’re upset. You shouldn’t be upset.

“No.” There are tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You hope that if you breathe deeply enough then you can will them to stop, “I suppose I won’t.”

The dinner turns out lovely, but you can barely take a bite. You can barely even say another word for the rest of the night. You just tell  them thank you, it was lovely, then go home to finish your creative writing assignment. The professor is probably going to write a note that it’s lonely. That’s okay, though. It is lonely, because that’s what you are. Terribly, and irrevocably lonely.

*

A week after the dinner party you and San are partnered together on a creative writing assignment. The main goal is to learn how to work collaboratively with another author, not that you even considered yourself that, and it’s coming along nicely. There are just a few things that need to be cleaned up before it’s due, which prodded San to invite you out to coffee. At least you thought that’s what it was about, but when he takes his seat at the table there’s no laptop tucked beneath his arm.

“A-are we not working on the project?” You question softly, hands hovering idly over your keyboard. 

“I wasn’t planning to, but you... You can if you want to, I guess.” He drops his bags and heavy coat in the vacant seat before flipping through his wallet, “You ordered yet?” You shake your head no, you didn’t want him to show up and have you already be halfway done with your drink and then deal with the awkward conversation of how you showed up thirty minutes early because other than meeting Hongjoong in the morning this is the only thing on your social calendar for a week. After that you have movie night, “I’ll get you something. Coffee or tea?” 

“Coffee.” When the boy returns to the table, it’s with two steaming mugs, perfect for the frost bitten weather outside. Yours smells like vanilla and nutmeg.

“It’s the shop special I think.” He smiles gently, dimples on parade for the entire campus to see. You think that San has a nice smile, the kind that takes over his face, along with yours before you can even stop it.

“It’s nice, thank you.” Things are quiet for a second while San is putting away his wallet, and for some reason you’re confused. If you’re not going to work on the project then why on earth did he make the time to get coffee? 

“(Y/n?)” He asks softly, raising your attention from the untouched mug of coffee to where his hand is on the lid of your laptop, “Are you okay?”

“Yea, I’m good.” The words sound dismissive before they’ve even left your mouth, “Why did you ask to get coffee?” Sans eyebrows raise and he feels a small tug on his heart. He doesn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to spend time with you.

“Because I have free time and I wanted to spend it with you.” You’re not sure why, but it’s hard to hear that. Maybe because you’ve been hiding from life for as long as you can remember, or because you’ve had nothing but free time for a month and you’ve wanted to spend all of it with the one person that will hardly return your texts, or maybe because sometimes those words are hard to hear. 

“Oh.” You take a sip of the coffee, it makes your stomach feel warm for the first time in a long time, “Thank you.” San cracks his knuckles while offering up a gentle smile.

“No need to thank me, we’re friends.” 

“I guess that’s why I’m thanking you. I don’t have a lot of friends, if you hadn’t noticed.” The boy is looking at you with attentive eyes, and it feels like there’s something lodged in the back of your throat. It tastes like vanilla and nutmeg and thousands of wasted opportunities, “I used to have Mingi, but he’s so busy with all of the classes and... Dates, that we don’t really talk much. I’m grateful that I have you.” When San smiles it’s sweet and genuine and you feel like you are finally doing the whole college thing. The thing where you make growth.

“I’m grateful to have you too, you’re a sweet kid.” If you weren’t so touched you would remind him that he’s only one year older, “I don’t think any of Mingi’s dates have much substance, honestly.” Something about the way he says it makes you think that he’s not talking about the girls themselves. It makes your heart flip.

“How come?” As soon as the words leave your mouth you pray that they don't sound eager. San lets out a heavy sigh and you think that maybe your prayer worked.

“He just isn’t really satisfied with anything. There have been girls eyeing him since his first time in the cafeteria, but he didn’t care much for it. Now he’s decided to take them up on their offers, and yet he still doesn’t seem to care for it. We’ve all asked him what’s up but he won’t say much. Just that it’s not what he’s looking for.” There’s a pointed gaze that says a million things. Mingi hasn’t found what he’s looking for. Mingi is just as lost as you are. Maybe Mingi couldn’t find what he was looking for because it’s always been there. Maybe Mingi needs you as much as you need him.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You leave the cafe that day with a smile on your face and hope fluttering around in your heart, and for the first time in a long time you think that maybe you can be happy.

*

You’ve been planning this night since the moment you stepped out of the campus cafe with San. It’s probably a little bit cheesy, with all of the contraband candles and what not, but Mingi always said that you went a little overboard on movie nights. Now you’re standing in the center of your empty dorm room, illuminated by tea light candles, wearing the dress that you wore when Mingi dragged you to your first ‘party,’ and your heart all the way in your throat. Because tonight is the night. Tonight you’re going to tell Mingi how you feel about him, and you’re not going to listen to the little voice in your head that says this is probably stupid, and that Mingi showing up over half an hour late is a bad sign. That voice is annoying and has made you wait too long for too many things.

So when Mingi walks into your dorm with rosy cheeks and windblown hair, you let your heart stutter. When his jaw drops open, you let yourself laugh, and when he takes a step forward, you do too.

“What’s this about?” He questions with a familiar deep voice that leaves warmth blossoming in your chest. 

“I just...” Your eyes lock onto the freckle on his neck before flashing back up to eyes. They’re sparkling in the flickering candle light, “I’ve missed you. Really badly, Mingi. I miss you in the mornings when I walk to class, I miss you at lunch when I get my granola bars from the closet, I miss you when I’m with my friends, I-I... I miss you on Friday nights. I spend all of my time missing you, and I don’t want to anymore. I’m tired of hiding how I feel about things, like I think that my creative writing assignments are stupid, and I hate everyone in sports medicine except for Wooyoung, and I miss you. A-and I think that I might love you, so I wanted to-” Mingi takes two steps forward, coming dangerously close to closing your distance, and you think that he’s about to kiss you. You think that you’re ready for him to kiss you. You’re heart is beating faster, then faster, then faster-

“Why are you doing this?” And then it stops dead. You honestly think that you might be dead. This feels worse than being dead.

“Um, d-doing- Doing what? I’m not doing anything, I thought you were-” You’re rambling and it’s so awful, Mingi knows it’s awful. His hands are massaging his temples as if this is insanely stressful. It kind of is, but you can’t figure out why he would think so.

“Why are you telling me that you love me? After not seeing each other for almost a month, why are you telling me that?” Clearly, this is not the way that you expected tonight to go. Several of the candles by your desk has burnt out, you feel like you’re about to cry, “I haven’t been lonely, (Y/n,) because I have a-” You feel tears tugging on your eyelids so hard that it hurts. Before you can think about it, and before you can hear whatever he has to say, your index finger is in between his eyes and you’re staring at him like you want to throw something out a window.

“Don’t say that.” It’s probably the most assertive you’ve ever been with him, “I just don’t understand why you’re fighting me on this.” Mingi takes a deep breath before running his hands through his hair. You wonder when he picked up on that habit, which person got to see this before you did. He looks handsome. You hate it. 

“I don’t understand why you get to want this now. I don’t understand how I have waited and waited for you to love me back for years, and once I’m finally done with letting you break my heart you get to decide that you want this. I don’t understand how that’s fair.” There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes, but they’re different from the ones that you’ve seen before. They’re not like the ones he sheds over movies, these tears are angry and unwilling. 

“Mingi I-“ 

“Don’t say that you didn’t know. I know that you didn’t know, because you never wanted to know. You were too scared to know, but I was never scared. I’ve always known that we were right, and you were always scared.” It feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your throat in the worst way possible. Like it’s a spider that you swallowed. 

“Mingi that's not what-“ 

“But I can’t be with you (Y/n,) because I’m done with you being scared. I’ve been done with you being scared for years, and I'm finally okay with being done with you. Let me be okay, (Y/n.)'' There are now tears behind your eyes as well, but it’s not angry. It’s sad, because he’s right. You are really scared, it took months for you to work up the courage to admit to even yourself that you love Mingi.

“What are you saying?” The words are choked and staccato, tears spilling freely onto your cheeks. A brief look at his tear streaked face tells you that he’s known this answer for forever. 

“I’m saying that I can’t be with you right now. I just… Can’t.”

He leaves before he can see you sink to the tiled floor, or hide your face in your hands, or cry off all of the mascara you had put on just for tonight. Just so that you could bat your eyelashes at him and give him love until the sun came up. Just so that you could give him your love like flowers and a candle lit room.

But you don’t get to do that. You put on mascara for no reason. Mingi doesn’t want your love, he doesn’t want your candle lit room. He gave your flowers back, and they’re just going to sit on your nightstand until time takes her toll on them. Until they wilt and wither and all of the petals fall onto the floor. You don’t know if you’ll have the strength to sweep them up.

It’s not clear when you start crying, but it is clear that you never stop. You cry for hours and hours until you finally pull yourself off the floor and into your bed. The candles burn themselves into darkness. The room smells a bit like ash. Your blankets are warm. Your chest aches. Mingi is gone. You are scared and you’re alone. You probably always will be.

* 

You’re not sure when food lost its taste. When your room lost its color. When your legs became too heavy to move. When sleep became extinct. When it was easier to be in the library than it was to be in your own room. When every single one of your grades sky rocketed to an A while creative writing sat heavily at a C. You can’t watch Star Wars anymore without wanting to throw up. Strawberry ice cream tastes like poison.

You’d fallen asleep on a desk in the back of the library twice before Yunho found you. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do seeing as it was the middle of the day and no one had heard from you for a week and a half except for San, but he figured that leaving a hot coffee by your sleepy head seemed to suffice. If you were tired enough to fall asleep in the library it was probably much needed.

He thought that he’d just forget about that encounter, sweep it quietly under the rug and hope that you started getting more sleep. It was going well enough, until he arrived here. One week later, ten minutes before midnight, you in the same exact position as last time. There were tear tracks in your makeup and black smudged beneath your eyes. He could see the assignment peeking out from beneath your folded arms, ‘Study In Relationships,’ no doubt for creative writing. There are only two words that aren’t covered in black scribbles. You let a gentle snore, and he knows that it’s time to wake you up. To talk to you.

“(Y/n?)” He whispers while gently nudging your shoulder. You grumble ever so slightly before snatching the unfinished assignment back to rest beneath your head. Another small grunt leaves your lips before he calls out your name again, shaking you with a bit more force than the last time. Your eyes flutter open gently and take in the tan walls and fluorescent lighting before you fully register that Yunho is there. 

“Hey,” Your voice is gruff around the edges, and you know that if you say too much everything is going to fall apart, “good to see you.” His eyes take you in, sweatpants with countless stains, a hoodie that has a little hole forming in the armpit, your hair disheveled and greasy. He knew that something bad had happened when Mingi came back to the dorm about two weeks ago with tear filled eyes and an unwillingness to talk. You stopped showing up to any of the meals after that, even Hongjoong couldn’t get a hold of you. The blue haired boy would be lying if he said he didn’t worry for you in passing, but all of those concerns were brought to a forefront at the sight of you now. You look, and he means this in the nicest way possible, like a disaster. 

“Yea, i-it’s good to see you too.” His hands fiddle with the hem of his sweatshirt, busying themselves so that he doesn’t start to pack up for you, “The library is closing.” Your eyebrows furrow as you suddenly remember where you are. 

“Oh. I-I’ll get this cleaned up then.” You don’t know why, but asking him to help feels wrong. You’d like help, but something about his pitying eyes makes you feel small. The same way that you did when those boys pushed you off of your hot pink bike. Like he’s pitying you, except now there’s no lanky kid to save you.

Yunho ends up offering the smallest amount of help possible, just slipping your pencil into your bookbag, before helping you stand. The room swims for a minute before you can walk.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” You don’t know how to tell him that most nights you don’t go back to the dorms after the library kicks you out. Most nights you plop down on a bench in the quad and slave over your creative writing journal. Most nights you don’t crawl back into your room until four in the morning, when your roommate is dead asleep and can’t ask you if you’re okay, “Just don’t want you walking back alone in the dark.”

And really, what are you supposed to say?

“Yea, that’s fine.” The two of you walk in silence for a wall, nothing except for the rhythm of padding feet and rustling tree branches. Early winter air nips the tops of your ears while Yunho shivers beside you. You hear him miss a step and you feel yourself choke on a thousand words. 

“We’ve missed you.” You don’t respond with the question that you desperately want to ask. You don’t ask if everyone misses you. If a certain boy that smells of cinnamon and eyes that glimmer like childhood misses you. 

“Yea. I’ve missed you guys too.” The silhouette of your dorm building is slowly coming into view, you think that it looks different when the world is still awake. Some windows are still lit, people are drawing curtains shut. Normally when you come home everything is dark and unbelievably cold. This isn’t anything special, but it’s a whole lot better than that, “This is me.” You say tersely while slowing to a stop in front of the looming building.

“Yep.” You can tell that he wants to ask you something. Maybe it’s why you were asleep in the library, or why depression wears you like a necktie, or why he hasn’t seen you in the cafeteria for a month in a half. He wants to ask you something, but the way his lips close around the consonant tells you that he won’t.

You get halfway into the door before something tugs at your heart strings, “Yunho?” You call out, turning halfway over your shoulder to see his eyes trained on you. They look sad. You think that it makes sense why, “Thank you.” 

He nods curtly, and you know that he’s not sure why you’re thanking him. It’s okay though, because at least you know that he misses you. Before tonight, you thought no one missed you.

Sleep is as rare as ever that night, yet the thing that lulls you to sleep is the same as always. Floppy brown hair, clapping hands, a bad CGI explosion playing off of a crackly VHS tape. He smells like cinnamon and orange rinds, yet when you inhale it’s nothing but your dusty dorm room.

*

The end of the semester means wrapping up many loose ends. You pack up every coat and Christmas themed clothing item in your closet, notably avoiding the dress that you wore for Mingi. You meet Hongjoong for coffee and exchange presents, a pair of customized jeans for you and a twenty five dollar visa gift card for him. He smiled really wide when you told him that it was to make up for all of the coffees and meaningless conversation. You drop the level two creative writing class that was on your schedule. San makes a plan to meet up over the holiday and you agree wholeheartedly. Finals week isn’t all too bad seeing as you’re already getting less than four hours of sleep a night and funneling every bit of brain power into school. The only thing that’s left for you to do is turning in your creative writing assignment, which is both the easiest task and the one that you want to do least. 

The classroom is dead empty when you enter, not even your white bearded professor in sight. You scurry down the steps with the short story in hand, a meaningless piece about two strangers who share misty mornings. You hate it, just like you’ve grown to hate almost everything that you create, but it’s an assignment. It meets the bare minimum for what’s required on your rubric. You finished it.

“Miss (Y/n?)” Your body freezes in the middle of the final step before stuttering slowly back to normal. It probably looks stupid but you barely have the will to care, seeing as the thing that you were most dreading was happening. Your creative writing professor is standing at the top of the classroom with his long beard and judgmental eyes, and you are standing in front of his desk with shaky knees. 

“O-oh, hi! I was just turning in-”

“Why aren’t you enrolled in my class next semester?” You take in a breath, the air as thick as soup. You don’t know how to answer his question. You don’t want to answer his question. Answering his question feels like letting go of a piece of yourself.

“Oh, I-I dropped it. It’s just that I have other classes I need to take, a-and I’m not all that good so…” Your professor nods before furrowing his bushy eyebrows and starting slowly down the stairs. Each of his forward steps causes your heart to thump. 

“Who said that you aren’t good?” He questions, continuing down the steps. You clench the assignment in your hands and watch as the paper creases beneath your thumbs. When you look at the pages they’re clear, nothing but your words and margins, but when you think about what it’ll look like in a week you want to cry. It’ll be marked in red, with a fat red ‘C’ circled on the title page.

“I-I just, I never thought, Y-you said-” The professor is now standing in front of you with folded hands, his expression of confusion shifted into concern.

“I never said that you aren’t good.” You  breathe in again, the air thin enough to actually intake this time around. 

“You didn’t?” He shakes his head before pulling the crinkled assignment out of your hands.

“No, you show great promise as a writer! Your writing is… lacking, but it’s only in one area that can be easily improved upon. No great writers start out great, but all great authors show their flaws at one point.” Tears prickle the back of your eyelids, and it feels like there’s a little hand grappling onto whatever you thought you’d have to let go. 

“Miss (Y/n,) I’m trying to say that failure is okay. Getting less than a ‘B’ on your paper is okay, but you can’t stop trying.” He’s right, a part of you has known for a while that he’s right. Just because you got a bad grade in this class doesn’t mean that you’re bad at writing. Just because Mingi said no doesn’t mean that you’ll never feel deeply again. It just means that you need to keep trying.

“Oh, um… Thank you.” You’re not sure what else to say. There honestly isn’t much else to say, so you give him a short nod and head towards the stairs. You think that you’re going to head back to the dorm and cry on your bed, which is stripped of its duvet and most of the pillows. You think that you’re going to ask if you can have this class added back to your schedule. You think that you might speak with Hongjoong more often once your break is over. 

And sure enough, your spring semester begins with Hongjoong walking you across campus and to your second level creative writing class. The month away seems to have done good for the both of you, Hongjoong returning with dozens more customized clothing items and you with slowly disappearing eye bags. His hair is also faded into a lighter pink shade, which you think suits him quite well. 

Your walk to class is uneventful, riddled with small talk and basic catching up. Near the end he slips his arm beneath your book bag and around your waist, which feels nice enough. His arms are stronger than you expected. The half embrace is not unwelcome. When you two are standing outside of the quickly filling classroom he takes your hands into his own for a brief moment before asking if you’re free for coffee after class. You want to make up an excuse for why you can’t go, because you know that this isn’t just two friends going for coffee, but when you look at Hongjoong there are sparkles in his eyes. Pink hair tickles his cheekbone as he smiles warmly at you, and you find yourself thinking that his confidence right now is commendable. You also find yourself saying yes, you can definitely get coffee with. 

It’s a fun outing. He cracks a few jokes, you talk about class. He asks if you have any assignments and you say not yet. When he orders an iced coffee you ask if he’s trying to get frostbite, to which he laughs and pokes out his tongue. You think that he looks cute. You think that all of this is kind of cute. 

You also think that when you’re with Hongjoong, and he’s making you laugh and holding your waist, it’s very easy to forget about how badly you miss Mingi. 

*

When you agreed to re-enroll in your creative writing class you and your professor exchanged a number of emails. First about how you could improve your grade, then about how to improve your writing, then countless of other questions with ambiguous answers before the two of you finally settled on having weekly meetings. It would be sort of like he were your personal advisor, but only for writing. You would come into his office once a week to discuss your current project and he would read it over, ask if you had concerns, usually give some feedback. 

Within the first week it was clear what your most reoccurring critique would be. It was a mantra echoed many times, ‘To write life you have to live it.’ He said that your writing was good, pretty, but the characters lacked life. Then he asked if you could try to spend a little more time with people. It didn’t have to be much, but he was convinced that a bit more people time would improve your writing greatly. 

It’s been a month or so since that first meeting, and you weren’t sure if you agreed yet. You were spending almost everyday with Hongjoong, sometimes Seonghwa as well. You were definitely more tired each time you came home, but you also smiled more. Laughed more, too. They would often ask you for help with silly things, like the time that Hongjoong called you at midnight because he needed help touching up his hair, Seonghwa often asked you to mix his paints. It often felt like you were their third roommate, but it was okay. You had fun. 

Yet you didn’t see much improvement in your writing. There were still notes in red ink on your paper. You weren’t sure of the remedy you should apply, but more people time seemed like it wouldn’t hurt. So you set up daily lunches with Yeosang and Jongho, which was an interesting dynamic to say the least. Jongho would sit down most days and chug an entire reusable cup of green tea with soy milk before getting lunch, to which Yeosang would furrow his eyebrows and comment ‘I don’t know how he drinks that.’ Usually the younger boy would talk animatedly with you about classes then he’d ask if Yeosang had anything going on. Your dark haired friend would look up from his half inhaled plate of food with deep set eye bags and say that he had at least three papers to write. One time you asked if he was okay, but he just laughed and blamed it on his major. After that your writing seemed to improve greatly, at least according to your professor. He told you that it was starting to come alive much quicker. The only thing he had left to say was that your more gentle characters needed work. He said that they needed to be more than just gentle.

Running into Yunho in the library after that meeting was pure coincidence. You were headed to the back to start cracking down on some of your more challenging classes, namely entrance level biology, yet when you dropped your bag on your usual study table you noticed someone was already there. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll just-”

“(Y/n?)” He asked while turning to face you. It suddenly hit you that the last time Yunho had seen you was while you were at your absolute worst. Not sleeping, or eating, or talking to anyone but yourself. You don’t know if he’s going to let that version of you go. You only know how badly you want him to. 

“Yea, it’s me.” The words tug on your vocal chords so you cough lightly in an attempt to clear them, “How are you doing?” He twirls the blue gel pen in his hand for a moment before responding.

“I’m okay. The usual kind of busy, my room’s been messy lately. Just normal stuff.” Quiet settles over your conversation so that you’re left standing awkwardly in front of his neatly organized table. You’re not sure why you can’t bring yourself to speak, but you are sure that it has something to do with the fleeting thoughts of the boy that Yunho’s sharing that messy room with, “What’re you working on?” He asks, motioning with his gel pen to the stuffed folder in your hands.

“O-oh just some biology stuff, I have a quiz next week so…” Before you can say otherwise he’s clearing off a spot on the table and telling you to pull up a chair. He helps you with pretty much every half finished assignment. He even adds extra cheat codes onto your flash cards in crisp blue ink. As you’re leaving the library to get dinner with Hongjoong he tells you to meet him back here after your quiz.

“After all, I’d like to know how my best student is doing.” Weekly study sessions honestly come about naturally. He insists that he’s beyond happy to help, and you’re beyond happy to observe him. Listening to him talk is your favorite part. He’ll ramble on about a lab or being worried that someones going to steal his bike from in front of the dorms. He tells you that he thinks Hongjoong will ask you out, you tell him that you know. He says that your handwriting is pretty, you thank him. When he talks about things that make him angry his words are gentle and calculated, so as not to hurt people that aren’t even present. Needless to say, the red ink marks are few and far between after factoring this newfound knowledge into your pieces.

But you think that it’s a bit more than that too. For the first time in… Ever, you think, you’re happy. Not in a fleeting way that depends on strawberry ice cream eaten on Friday nights. You’re happy in a way that’s hard to tumble, and you’re happy in a way that’s without Mingi. You never thought that you would be happy without Mingi. All throughout high school you feared this very thing, having to live without him and be okay with it. Now that you’re doing it, it’s not all that scary.

You still see Mingi around campus from time to time, in curls of chestnut hair and broad shoulders. Sometimes when you’re walking to class with Hongjoong you can hear his laugh bouncing from the surrounding buildings. Part of you wonders if you’re just conjuring him up. Part of you wonders when it’ll stop. 

Hongjoong does ask you out, just like Wooyoung, and Yunho, and everyone predicted. You say yes. You laugh with your friends until your sides hurt. You share kisses with your boyfriend. You start to feel excited about life in a way that you never have, and a part of you honestly wonders if this whole thing with Mingi was just a growing pain. Something that needed to happen in order for you to change.

The aching of your chest at night says otherwise. But believing as much is easier to stomach.

*

You’re relaxing at Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s house when a nerve is struck. You'd been sitting at the table chatting with Seonghwa while Hongjoong made himself something for lunch. It was really an accident, you had just been telling Seonghwa about your study session with Yunho when he got onto the topic about an awkward study date he had been on recently. You laughed as he recounted it and assured him that a study date was a cute first date.

“I’m sure it’s not as cute as whatever you and Hongjoong did.” And that’s when it happens. The chord is played, the line is written, and Hongjoong was looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, “Y-you did have a good first date, right?” Your boyfriend said nothing, just bit his lower lip and returned his attention to the stove, “You’ve been dating for a month, you had to have had a first date. Right?”

“I’m sure that we will.” The tension that followed your meek statement was painstaking. First Hongjoong inhaled sharply through his nose, then Seonghwas mouth pressed into a thin line while his eyebrows raised. He muttered some nonsense about needing to get started on his painting for realism class. Apparently he was in such a rush to leave that he forgot that he wasn’t even taking a realism class, “Look, Joong we don’t have to-”

“Do you want a cutesy first date?” He asked, turning away from his food once again so that his eyes could bore into your own. You weren’t sure if his voice was stern in that moment or sincere, either way it was maddeningly effective.

“I mean… It would be nice.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded with his tongue in his cheek before returning to his food. Once it’s done and the fragrance is drifting from his workplace and towards the table, he takes the seat across from you. You’re about to say something but then he presses a swift kiss onto your lips.

“Then you, my darling, are getting just that.” 

A cutesy first date, with your sweet boyfriend who brings you tons of joy. It sounds great in theory, except for the fact that it’s been a week since your conversation and he still refuses to tell you when or where the date will be. Some may say that it’s romantic, but you say that it’s stressful. Pretty much every time that you leave your dorm room you end up seeing Hongjoong, so pretty much every time that you leave the dorm room you’re fully dressed and ready to go out. You’re starting to think that he’s finding joy in your suffering. It’s not too drastic of a belief, seeing as every time that you open your dorm room in a new outfit he giggles and whispers ‘cute.’ 

The miniature cat and mouse game finally comes to an end about a week and a half later, when he texts you Friday morning that you should wear something cute today and to be ready for pick up at five thirty. Though, the suffering doesn’t really end because in reality you spend the entire day raking through your closet for anything that could possibly make a cute outfit. There’s the cursed red plaid dress that you wore to that house party and awful confession oh so many months ago. You figured that was a no go, but honestly what else did you even have? There’s a uniform skirt that you bought while thrifting with Hongjoong, but you weren’t sure what shirt to wear with it. Your favorite jeans were in the wash so those obviously weren’t an option. It looked like it was going to have to be that dumb little dress.

But it’s not so bad, you manage to pair it with a black cardigan and the pair of leather boots that your mom got you for Christmas to replace the old ones. You also do more makeup than last time, so it really doesn’t look all that similar. When you look in the mirror before answering Hongjoongs knock you’re barely even thinking about the last night that you wore the dress. You’re thinking about tonight… Mostly about tonight.

You open the door to see your boyfriend wearing a black button up and blue hair that catches you off guard. His hands are shoved cutely into his pockets, you can see his thumbs twiddling from inside his jean pockets. The moment that his eyes take in your frame his face breaks out into a wide smile. It’s a familiar smile at this point, he wears it around you constantly.

“You look amazing.” He says beneath his breath. You watch with twinkling eyes as he examines every one of your features, your smiles growing with each passing moment.

“You’re not too bad yourself.” You're not sure what to do past this point. He’s said that you look nice, you’ve internally fawned over his new hair that looks so incredibly soft, you’ve looked each other once or twice and smiled. You don’t know if you’re supposed to kiss him now, or hold his hand, or what. This is all quite new, “Um, should we get going?” He looks back at your face with a jump, as though your question had pulled him out of something. You’re going to ask what, but you aren’t quite sure how to get the words out. 

“Yes, yea! I-I’ll lead the way.” After five minutes of walking around your familiar campus you arrive at the shuttle. You’ve only taken it once or twice in your time here, mainly to get to Hongjoong’s house at the edge of campus, but you do know that on weekends it will take you into the nearby city. There’s only one seat left by the time that you get on, so of course Hongjoong let’s you have it and opts to stand instead. 

“You can sit if you want to.” He immediately shuts down your offer with a quick peck to your lips and a sweet giggle that you’ve grown to adore. 

“It’s our first date, I can’t have you thinking that I’m anything less than a gentleman.” If he weren’t so endearing you’d point out that you’ve been together for over a month. But he is endearing, so you only laugh and take hold of his hand. 

The date ends up being pretty much perfect. He takes you to a small cat cafe that’s tucked away on the downtown streets of the city, something that you didn’t even know existed until this very night. The inside is fully decorated in light pink with white lighting that highlights your adorable boyfriends features. He’s so sweet the whole time, smiling and letting the cats curl up in lap. The two of you share a piece of cake, he smears a little bit of the stiff frosting onto your nose. It’s cute. Sweet. You return to the dorm room with hot cheeks and a bashful grin.

“I had a lot of fun.” You say to him while leaning up against the doorframe of your dorm room. He smiles, but it’s different from the smile that you usually see. He’s usually so confident and sure of himself, but in this fleeting moment you can see unsureness in his features. It’s almost like he didn’t think you’d like the date.

“Yea?” You nod as quickly as he can ask. It’s not clear why, but you feel the need to assure him that you enjoyed your time together, “I’m glad. We could do something like this every week, you know?” 

The response isn’t as quick this time, or as adamant. You want to say yes. You had fun tonight, you enjoy spending time with Hongjoong, you want to say yes. But there’s something holding you back. It’s gentle, tugging on your heartstrings like a haunting winter melody. It tastes of strawberry ice cream, and smells of Song Mingi’s basement. You still remember the first time that he proposed a weekly movie night, all those years ago. You still remember how wanted it made you feel. At times you wonder if anyone will make you feel as wanted as Mingi did.

You’re starting to wonder that now, even as Hongjoong catches his thumb beneath your chin so as to tilt your chin up. The thoughts don't waver until your eyes meet, and you think that you’re probably right. No one will make you feel as wanted as Mingi; but Hongjoong does make you feel wanted. It’s not as overwhelming as Mingi. It’s not as safe as Mingi. It’s not as fateful as Migni. But it is there.

“What do you think? About the weekly thing, I mean. Like how does that sound?” Mingi was everything to you. In many ways he is still, but he’s also gone. Hongjoong is most things, but at least he’s here.

“It sounds lovely.”

*

You’ve spent a lot of time thinking in the past few weeks, pretty much ever since Hongjoong started with the dates. It’s mostly when you come back to your dorm after them and lay belly up on your loft bed, eyes glazing over the ceiling tiles that you’re pretending to count. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong, the way that his smile overpowers his face. The way that he laughs whenever he flusters you. The way he takes time out of his week to plan these cute little dates with you. Sometimes you think about Hongjoong. But most of the time you don’t. 

Most of the time you find your thoughts wandering far out of reach, and most of the time they wander straight into Song Mingi. It starts with thinking that you miss his presence, the way that he jumps to help anyone with anything. The way that his eyes shine each time you call out his name. You miss the way that he gives hugs, all warm and inviting. Some nights if you focus hard enough you can even remember the way that he smells. Orange zest and cinnamon.

If you’re honest with yourself, you know that this isn’t fair to Hongjoong. You like him well enough, but he adores you. He calls you darling and kisses you as though the action is sacred. He always walks you home after every date even though his own house is so far away. In theory, he is perfect. You’ve been dating for close to two months, you should be fully head over heels by now. But you can’t give that to him, and you know it. You also know that you can’t be alone again.

“Darling?” Hongjoong questions, pulling you away from your thoughts and back into the present. The two of you are cuddled into a far corner of the couch, midday sun pouring through the tall windows and landing across your boyfriend's face. You were watching the light dance in his eyes and talking about your latest creative writing meeting, but then he started talking about having another dinner party at the house. He said that it’d be like the one that he and Seonghwa hosted at the beginning of the school year, where you came with Mingi. It’s kind of funny honestly, because he regards that as one of the nights where he first started to like you. You regard it as one of the nights where Mingi first started to hate you, “Is everything okay?”

You should tell him no, because that’s the truth. You’re not okay. You don’t know if you’ll ever get over Mingi. You don’t think that you’ll ever love Hongjoong the way that he so clearly loves you. You shouldn’t lie to him. You should tell him no.

You also shouldn’t be alone again, right?

“Yea! I’m just tired. That’s all.”

*

In retrospect, you should’ve asked Hongjoong to not invite Mingi to this house party. It would’ve sounded odd, sure. As far he knew you and Mingi were still friendly. Had you requested that Mingi wouldn’t be invited you probably would’ve ended up having to rehash the entirety of your history. It would probably leave your boyfriend questioning whether or not you still had feelings for Mingi, a question that you’d have to lie through your teeth to answer. It would’ve been a little bit awkward, sure. But at least you wouldn’t be where you are now.

You fall gracelessly onto Hongjoongs unmade double bed, hands flying up to cover your flustered face. Mingi arrived at the off campus house nearly two hours after all of the other guests. There was an small window where you thought that you were safe, in which you took time to talk with San and Wooyoung while grazing over the cheese board that Seonghwa had set out. You felt like a true adult in that narrow window, the kind that works a nine to five job and deals with their problems. Then Mingi arrived. Two hours late.

You watched carefully as his eyes bounced around the room. They landed first on Yunho, who engulfed the boy in a warm hug before returning to his previous conversation. Then they traveled to the sectional couch in the living room where Seonghwa sat with Yeosang. He offered them a short greeting while walking through the living room, face crinkling with laughter at something that Yeosang had said. You find it comforting that after so much time apart his laughter hasn’t changed. He filtered naturally out of the conversation before moving to stand beside the tv. You watched his eyes move deftly across the open floor plan and began to wonder what he’s looking for so eagerly. Maybe it’s the girl from his math class. Maybe it’s someone entirely different. His gaze wandered and wandered, covering every corner that it could reach before finally landing. Before finally landing on you.

His eyes were piercing yet kind, stripping away the facade that you had previously believed. You aren’t an adult. You’re a little girl that got pushed off of her barbie bike and had to have a lanky preteen come to her rescue. You’re the idiot who lit dozens of tea light candles in her dorm room just to be turned away. It feels like you’re being stripped of your skin, but it also feels like you’re being reminded of yourself.

“Are you okay?” Jongho asked. You were so occupied with Mingi that you didn’t even realize he had joined. His question was sobering though, pulling you back to the harsh reality that you are okay. And you’re okay without Mingi.

“Yea, I’m fine.” You tore your focus back to the group in front of you, who were all staring at you. They clearly didn’t buy your answer, and you didn’t blame them too much. Anyone who didn’t know you could see that you were distressed, so clearly three of your close friends could tell, “I-I just realized that I have a paper due tonight. I’m gonna go finish it in Hongjoong’s room.” 

You now find yourself praying that Hongjoong won’t try to come and find you. You don’t know how to lie about this to him. You don’t know how to look him in the eyes and make up a reason for why you freaked out and left the party. By some terrible coincidence the door handle starts to jiggle. You want to say that you think through all of the possibilities of what you’ll say to him, but in reality there’s only one option of what you’ll say. The truth. If Hongjoong were to come into his room right now and ask what’s wrong you would have to tell him the truth. That you love Mingi.

“Hey honey, I had a paper to finish and-” The person that comes through the narrow doorway is much taller than your boyfriend. His shoulders are broader. The slope of his nose goes down further. Even from here you can smell brown sugar and oranges, “Oh. It’s you.” He looks handsome as ever. His cheeks may be a bit slimmer, the bags beneath his eyes are a bit deeper, but he still looks like Mingi. His face is still your childhood.

“Yea. It’s me.” Silence falls over the room, squeezing tightly around the chords of your throat to the point where you think that they’re going to break, “I-I just saw you come in here and-”

“I have a paper.” He swallows harshly, hands shoving into his pockets as his eyes stay glued to the floor. You find that bit funny, seeing as when you were outside he wanted to look nowhere but you.

“Right. A paper. I’ll leave you to that, then.” He’s moving to leave, and in that moment you know nothing. You’re not entirely sure what your name is, or where left is in relation to right, but you do know one thing. You don’t want Mingi to leave. You don’t want him to leave. He’s barely been here for two minutes. You haven’t said a single thing that you wanted to say. He can’t leave.

“Wait!” The boy stops in his tracks before turning. His eyes finally meet yours again, they’re  questioning and so gentle that you almost think things could go back to normal, “I don’t have a paper due tonight. Well, I do but I did it two days ago. It’s just that when I saw you I-I… I panicked. Probably because we haven’t seen each other in months. Probably because I really, really, miss you.” Your eyes are slowly becoming tearful, but you really don’t want them to be. You’ve shed so many tears over this relationship. You should be able to do this. The fact that he’s not saying anything doesn’t make it any easier, but still. You should be able to do this, “You don’t have to say anything, I guess, but I-I’m glad that I said it. You were my best friend, I’ll always think of you in that way. I know that we’ve both said… Things, and I get that you might not be able to move past that, but I’m willing to. If it means that we can be friends again, I’m willing to.” Your eyes somehow became glued to your twiddling thumbs over the course of your speech. You don’t think that you’re going to move them, until you feel a pair of strong arms embracing you. He smells so good, like he always does. This one hug feels like all of the comfort that you’ve craved for the last six months. Like the comfort that only Mingi can bring you.

“I’ll move past it. I-I’ve missed you too.” His voice is low, crackling like a fresh log that’s been thrown into the fireplace. You spend the following two hours in Hongjoongs room. You’re curled up on the bed and he’s in front of the disheveled desk. It’s dodgy, you know that it is, but something about really being here with Mingi makes you forget about all of that mess. It’s much easier to forget about it. You eventually return to the party, floating in between conversations with all of your friends. It’s nice to not have to avoid Mingi. At one point Hongjoong joins your conversation with Mingi, San, and Wooyoung. He puts an arm around your waist, which you should enjoy. You would like to enjoy it, but your mind is slightly preoccupied. 

“Where’d you go earlier, darling?” He whispers into your ear halfway through a drawn out story that San is sharing. He’s always been awful at telling stories, but he gets so excited that everyone lets it slide. 

“Oh! I just had a paper that I needed to finish, so I went and did that in your room.” He wants to ask why you had to do that with Mingi, but then the other boy starts to laugh and he knows the answer. Based entirely off of the way that you look at him, Hongjoong knows. 

Once everyone has left and you’ve all shared your goodbyes, Hongjoong suggests that the two of you clean up the living room together. It was an hour or so of silence before he brought up the elephant in the room. 

“I’m not it for you. Am I?” You don’t know why you thought he’d be angry with you. Probably because he’d have every reason to be so. But this is Hongjoong. You could single handedly send the world into ruin and Hongjoong still wouldn’t get mad at you. 

“I really want you to be.” You’ve stopped cleaning now, hands lying limp over the small stain that you were previously scrubbing off of the couch. Getting dumped isn’t going at all how you always thought that it would. It doesn’t feel like your heart is being trampled. You don’t have the compulsive urge to cry. No, none of that. It just feels like you’re explaining away a weight that’s been on your chest for months, “Does that make sense?”

“I think that you wish you wanted me. I think that you wanted me more than you wanted to be alone.” He’s started to play with the strings of his hoodie in a hopeless attempt to calm his raging heart, “But you’re not alone anymore, are you?” You could pretend that you don’t know what he’s talking about. You could deny it, but in reality there’s no point to any of that. It would only prolong all of this, so you nod, “Yeah. Thought so.”

When you say goodbye to him he hugs you tighter than usual, you think for a minute that he’s going to tell you something else. He doesn’t. Just kisses your forehead and says to get home safely. You do, it’s a mere twenty minutes before you’re tiptoeing into your dorm room and up the ladder to your bed. It almost gets to the point where you pretend to count ceiling tiles, but then your phone buzzes from beneath your pillow. It’s a text from Mingi, a short and sweet message.

‘I’m glad to be your friend:)’ 

It’s probably stupid, seeing as the night ended on a terribly sour note, but those few words and that silly emoticon makes it feel like this entire year has been worth it. Because you have Mingi again, and there’s no way that you’ll lose him this time around.

*

After the breakup with Hongjoong, you were slightly worried that no one would want to be friends with you anymore. It would certainly be a fair decision on their part, seeing as you were beyond awful as a girlfriend. You thought that in Hongjoong’s healing, he would end up telling some of the worst things that you did to some of the people whose opinions matter the most. You’re not sure why you thought that, perhaps because it’s what you would’ve done if someone did this to you.

You’re more immature than he is, though. Hongjoong handles his feelings with grace. His words are unbelievably careful whenever he shares them, or at least that’s what Seonghwa says. He also says that he misses having you around to mix his paints and clean his brushes. You had told him that you were just glad that he still likes you, even if the wounds were only a month old.

There was also the ever present worry that Mingi would ask why you and Hongjoong split. You’ve thought of plenty of fake reasons, like saying that the two of you didn’t really click. Or you could keep it simple and say that it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. The options were endless, but there was the problem of Mingi being able to read you like an open book. He would surely know that you’re lying, possibly before you even opened your mouth. The main risk involved was whether or not he’d pester you for the truth. 

That constant fear was not helpful for a regrowing relationship, to say the least. You’ve hung out a number of times since reuniting, but he would always ask you about what you did in the months that you spent apart. Obviously, mentioning the end of first semester was strictly off limits. The rest of the time you spent with Hongjoong, so that left very little room for conversation. You would mostly end up talking about your creative writing meetings, which was fine. It was just sparse.

But this weekend would be different. The two of you had made plans nearly two weeks ago to carpool home together after spring midterms for the long weekend. Your immediate response was to panic, because what on earth would the two of you talk about for the hours that it took to drive home? How would you possibly avoid talking about any of your life for the past four months for that long? But as the days drew closer you realized that maybe it wasn’t such a big deal. The two of you used to go on fun drives constantly, and most of the time you’d barely talk at all. This would be fine. You could manage this.

He picks you up an hour after the exams are concluded, and much to your gratitude there’s music already blaring from each of the speakers. He motions through the window for you to put your bags in the backseat, which you do before sliding into the front seat of his car. 

“Hey.” He’s looking at you with a soft smile when he says this, the gentleness of his face juxtaposed against the disney channel music blaring from the speakers is enough to make you laugh. So you do, the sound falling from your lips in a way that reminds Mingi of how dearly he missed it.

“Hi.” You stare at him for a minute, and he stares back. You find yourself thinking that all of this is mighty odd. Just two months ago you didn’t think that you’d ever have the strength to talk about Mingi again, now the two of you are sitting in the same car, “We’re listening to High School Musical?” He laughs too, passing his phone into your lap while shaking his head of brown curls.

“For now yes, you can change it if you’d like.” If you didn’t know him then you would’ve missed the twinkle in his eyes which indicated that he was going to continue, “Only if it’s Hannah Montana, though.” 

The ride was full with playful banter and off key high notes. Each time Mingi would go to hit one he’d tilt his head back ever so slightly, the brake lights of the car in front of you catching on the delicate lines of his adams apple as he did so. You would laugh until you had to clench your stomach then chastise him for not keeping his eyes on the road. He never once tried to ask about what you’ve been up to, or ask about Hongjoong. In a way, you almost forgot about it for the long hours that it took to drive into your hometown. Mingi seemed to have that effect, like walking through a museum of all of the things that he made you feel for the beginning of your lifetime. Comforted. Carefree. Joyful.

The car slows down then turns, and even if you weren’t looking up you’d know exactly where this car was headed. It’s the place that you spent every late friday night, the place where burgers couldn’t be served without a milkshake on the side, the place where Mingi first knew that he would always love you no matter how hard he ran from it. The chrome on the outside of the diner looks exactly the same, and when you peer through the windows it’s even more familiar. Red cushioned seats, a jukebox in the corner, salt and pepper in mismatched porcelain dispensers on each table. It feels like you’re coming from a football game with sweaty hair and a quickly beating heart. It feels like you’re still a kid.

“Are you hungry?” You ask teasingly as Mingi turns off the car and undoes his seatbelt. He runs a hand through his hair, laughing lowly.

“More like thirsty, milkshakes on me?” You know how this is going to end. You know what paying for food and offering up rides indicates. You know that this could crash and burn and leave you utterly devastated for months. But you also know that you’ve changed. That you’re finally done living a loveless life in honor of your own comfort. You think that he’s changed too, less bitter now. You’re both finished with hurting each other, so maybe it could end up hurting exactly the way that it did last time. Maybe it’ll end up working out. The fact of the matter is that you’ll never know what falling feels like unless you jump.

“Milkshakes on you.” You respond with a purely happy smile. He smiles too, the kind that breaks across his entire face until it can’t possibly get any bigger. You’ve missed that smile so much, “Hongjoong and I broke up by the way. I’m sure that you already knew that, but I wanted to tell you myself.” He nods once, then purses his lips, then begins to play with his own fingertips. It’s too early for you to get a read on him, but you do think that he already knew. You also think that he’s trying to hide his happiness.

“Thank you for telling me.” He pinches his lips shut and swallows before continuing, “Are you okay?” He reaches out to hold your hand before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t seem to make you uncomfortable. You take his hand and squeeze it gently then slowly set it back down to lay on his thigh.

“I’m fine. I’ll be even better once I get a milkshake.” 

Conversation flows more naturally after that, the both of you talking about nothing and everything at the same time. He tells you about the time that Yunho made a hotdog explode in their microwave. You share one of your many anecdotes from lunch with Yeosang and Jongho. He asks about what you’ve been writing lately and so you tell him briefly about your work in progress and the meetings with your teacher. The entire time while you’re talking he beams at you with pride. You had always loved writing so much.

You finish your milkshakes and he tips the waitress extra. You drive the remainder of the way to your house, Hannah Montana still blaring from his speakers. It’s unbelievably stupid and childish, but at the same time it’s absolutely perfect. He pulls into your driveway and lets out a heavy sigh, hands smacking against the steering wheel.

“Well. You’re home!” He doesn’t really want you to go, despite having driven all this way specifically to watch you leave. Something about the look in your eyes, and the fact that it’s directed straight at him, makes him think that you don’t want to leave either. 

“I’m home.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car before Mingi can even think of another thing to say. He maneuvers a bit in his seat so that he can see you as your picking up your stuff and think of something to say, “Thanks for the ride, I’ll-”

“Do you want to start up movie nights again?” He wasn’t exactly planning on asking you that, but he was planning to ask if you could spend more time together. It’s been so long without you that he wants to spend as much time with you as possible, “In my room, on Saturdays. And I’ll never stand you up or reschedule at the last minute.” Your heart is hammering, you don’t even bother to pretend that you don’t know why. The boy in front of you is stammering and over explaining and turning red in the face, and you are terribly in love with him.  

“I’d like that very much.” With that simple agreement, it feels as though the entire world has been set back into place.

*

You didn’t realize how much junk a dorm room could accumulate in the span of a year until it was time to clean all of it out. There were schedules to peel off of the walls, clothes to dig out from the back of the closet, phone chargers that had fallen behind night stands. It’s weird to look at it now, with all of the homeliness and personality stripped away. Next year there will be two entirely different people sleeping in the loft beds, which you admittedly grew used to. Maybe they’ll be strangers. Maybe they’ll be best friends.

“That’s the last box.” Mingi enters the emptied room right as your eyes move to the empty bed that had been adjacent to yours for the entire year. Your roommate had left early this morning, her things had been packed for weeks already. The two of you never grew any closer to one another, but you didn’t mind. Coexisting with her felt like one of your many growth challenges throughout this year, “You missing your roommate?” Mingi asked with a cocked eyebrow, making you realize that you’re still staring at her stripped bed.

“No, not really.” Your voice comes out so matter of fact that it makes Migni giggle a little bit. He thinks that it’s nice to see you, who was once so meek and quiet, being adamant about not caring for someone, “I’m grateful for her though. I didn’t think that I’d be able to live with a stranger before this year. I didn’t think I’d be able to do lots of things before this year.” You finally move your eyes to the boy standing at your side to see that he’s staring at you with a proud smile. It makes your chest swell with warmth in a way that you don’t even fight against, “What?” You can’t help but break out into a smile as you gaze even longer at his.

“Nothing, I’m just really proud of us. Who we’ve become, especially you.” His pinky finger brushes up against your own, for a moment you can feel his hand aching to hold your own. You open up your palm and lace your fingers into his, moving with certainty and purpose, “I like who you are now, you’re a lot bolder. Happier.” Your body flushes with heat, heart pattering so erratically that you’re sure he can hear it. You hope that he does. 

“I-I like you now too.” Your voice wavers as his hand travels to your wrist, pulling you gently so that you’re facing each other. His face looks stern, like this moment is do or die, yet his eyes sparkle with the same childlike twinkle as always. You watch his eyes travel from your own to your lips in a mere second, breath hitching in the back of your throat. You’ve waited for this for such a long time, but as his nose brushes ever so gently against yours you find yourself thinking that it was worth it, “May I?” The question is whisper, your breath ghosting against Mingi’s plump lips. You place your hand on his chest so that his heart is thumping beneath your hand. 

“Yes.” You hook your free hand beneath his chin and bring his face closer to yours so that your lips are finally touching. It’s nothing but a gentle brush at first, both of you timid and overly careful, but as soon as you try to pull away his hands are on your waist and pulling you closer than you thought was possible. He kisses you with fever, hands gripping you as though he’s scared that you might melt away. You bury your fists into his shirt, trying desperately to let him know that he never has to worry about that again. 

He pulls away after sometime, hands moving to hold your face as he rests his forehead on yours. He says nothing, only brushes his thumb against your cheek and smiles. In the quiet moments, you can make out the blurred lines of a future, one that’s spent in a modest apartment that’s decorated with all of the junk that Mingi just hauled downstairs for you. You can see late nights spent writing at a desk that’s full of his trinkets. You can see weekly movie nights on the couch with blankets and twinkling fairy lights. You can see a life that’s lived with love and passion, a life where pains are forgotten and growth is left in their place.

When he smiles at you and goes in for a second kiss, your eyes flutter closed. Yet you still see it all so clearly. You can see a future, and you can see it with Mingi by your side.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being a Party Member

Stranger Kids x reader

warnings:

a/n: 💖💖 these ones were kind bad but i hope you like!

prompt: anonymous: “Hi! Can you make a headcannon for Stranger Things of just being in the party? Sorry if its too vague. Thank you so much for giving us so much free content!!”

you’ve known the boys for a long, long time

your mom was friends with joyce in high school, so you knew will your whole life

he introduced you to mike and soon lucas and dustin had joined the mix

let’s face it, you guys weren’t the most popular, but as long as you had each other it was fine

“at recess do you want to play castle?”

“yes! but we need to make up our characters”

will the wise was born that day, it just stuck

you guys were obsessed with star wars when it came out

“i’d totally be a jedi” -mike

“mike, you’d cry at the sight of any alien creature”

“not true!”

“i think lucas would be a kickass pilot, though”

“i’d get the princess, too” -lucas

dustin ended up playing lightsabers with you, though

you’ve accidentally knocked down tons of stuff in mike’s basement

“cut it out, you guys!”

“soooorryyyyy”

“you are not!”

AV club was just the 5 of you acting afool under adult supervision

mr. clark was still proud of your young minds, though

D&D campaigns, you were the rogue

you were also easily distracted during the game

“anyone want chips, im gonna get some chips”

“no! you can’t leave now!”

“watch me”

playing with mike’s toys while he’s not looking

battling them with lucas, dustin, and will

until mike started protesting

bike rides around town until sunset

SLEEPOVERS

“who the hell is snoring?”

“i think it’s dustin”

“PILLOW FIGHT!!!”

“kids, time to sleep!” -any parent

“let’s watch a scary movie”

“no! i mean—i’m tired” -mike

depending on which house you were staying in, you’d have a great time

will’s brother, jonathan, was always nice to you

nancy...not so much

“hi na—” *door slams* “oh...”

erica always intruded on your sleepovers at lucas’s

“i wanna play! can i play?”

“no, erica, go play somewhere else”

“you’re so mean, lucas”

“bye!”

dustin didn’t have any siblings, but he did have a cat who was pretty nice

“hi mews!”

the night will disappeared was a night you’ll never forget

you were so determined to find him, he had to be around somewhere

you ended up getting in deeper water than you’d originally thought when you met eleven, who apparently had superpowers

“mike!!! you’re mom is gonna kill you for bringing a random girl in the house”

“i know! shhhhh”

she was weird to say the least

and it was pretty scary sneaking around with her

“dude...she has the force”

“shut up!”

after a long week of fighting with your friends and encountering inter dimensional monsters and the government, you realized your life would never be the same

your mom was pretty protective over you for a while

the party had to come to your house instead for the next few months

“sorry guys, she’s just...really upset about the whole thing”

“it’s okay, y/n. we don’t mind”

being each other’s support system

especially when it came to will, he really worried you guys

“today is will’s doctor visit, hope it goes okay...”

spending HOURS in the arcade, struggling to beat other people’s high scores

“i’m gonna do it! i’m gonna get the top score!”

“in your dreams, y/n”

hAlLoWeEn

you knew you weren’t supposed to dress up at school but no one was paying attention to you when you told them

unfortunate.

there was a new girl who mike hated right off the bat

but lucas and dustin wouldn’t stop fighting over

“you two are the worst, you know that?”

trick or treating and dumping your candy later on to trade, the most effective way to get the best halloween

“nougat, disgusting. anybody want it? i’ll give it to you for free”

*dustin and you simultaneously* “ME!”

dustin’s “pet lizard” scaring the hell out of you

“dart makes me...uncomfortable”

max pulling you aside to ask why mike hates her

“uh...he’s a dick? i don’t know”

you and max ended up getting along pretty okay, though

she did complain about mike a LOT though

and when lucas filled her in on the demogorgon/upside-down/eleven situation, EVERYONE was pissed

you guys realized that the upside down stuff was not over and there was an epic teamup with all of you yaaaay

steve harrington adopted you it’s true

eleven came back

that was cool

you gave her a hug bc like duh??? you missed her

steve babysitting you guys and then getting beat up by max’s stepbrother, billy

“can i hit him? i wanna hit him”

“do it!”

doing dumbass shit in the tunnels that ended up working out anyways! yay!

“we’re all gonna die we’re all gonna die oh my god i’m too young to die”

“Y/N STOP”

in the end everything was (mostly) okay but like, that was scarring

summer rolled around and el and mike were dating, max and lucas were dating, and dusting came back from camp and claimed to be dating some girl from faaaar away

“liar”

“i’m not lying!”

steve sneaking you into movies

he also gave you (and only you) free ice cream but only bc he knew you wouldn’t tell anyone else

robin and you talking while you hid in the break room to eat your ice cream

“so...what do you do for fun”

“kill monsters”

“oh...okay”

kinda sick of the party’s shit for a while, so dustin and you were off scheming with the scoops employees

bad ideaaaa!! the russians!! you were almost killed!!

rescue mission for steve and robin

“they’re high as shit”

“nO YOu aRe”

“wonderful, we’re screwed”

losing them fhdhdhsh

“y/n?!”

“what? i’m not a babysitter!”

being chased by russians but also the rest of the party showing up and updating you but also adults finally making an appearance and you wanting to cry because like what the fuck is happening

being chased by the mind flayer

“GUYS IF WE DONT MAKE IT I WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW I LOVE YOU”

“Y/N. STOP SAYING THINGS THAT MAKE US THINK WE’RE GOING TO DIE”

eek that night sucked

you also almost fell down the hill that cerebro was placed on

and then uhhh hopper died so that was really bad and will ended up moving away with el and everyone was very sad

your mom cried when joyce left :(

you cried way too much

might i add going over to lucas’s to hang out with erica bc now you guys are friends lmaooo

“why are you here, y/n?”

“erica wanted me to come over”

“you two are impossible”

and to end this on a high note, the remaining party members in town were finally working through their differences as you all grew up and knew that it’d be impossible to separate for good

also pizza nights every week (sometimes accompanied by an older teen bc why not)

“if you guys eat all the damn pizza we’re gonna have a problem”

“we can’t help it! we’re growing!”

taglist: @locke-writes // @queenofthehairharrington // @praellee // @bonniesbabybunnie // @lotsoffandomrecs //

[haileygarciasunshine]

Winter Blues

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Written: January 27th, 2021

Posted: January 27th, 2021

Warning: Half angsty half fluff.

Word Count: 1,171

Summary: The reader struggles with seasonal depression. 

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Bounding down the stairs you couldn’t shake the feeling of not being yourself. Making your way towards the kitchen, you were greeted with a warmth that could only be provided by joy. The sounds of your mother and brother Dustin, laughing rang through the air. Pausing before the kitchen threshold, you let out a saddened sigh. 

As you stood there silently, you couldn’t help but feel a ping of guilt. Normally, you wouldn’t hide how you were feeling from either of them, but all rationality was clouded by your winter blues. Squeezing your eyes shut, you inhaled a deep breath. Opening your eyes, you passed the threshold.

“Well, good morning sleeping beauty.” Dustin beamed, smiling at you from the kitchen table.

Sending him a false grin, you let a fake giggle slip past your lips. “I couldn’t let you two have all the fun, now could I?” You questioned, sliding into a seat directly across from him.

Dustin let out a laugh, turning his attention back towards your mom resuming the conversation.

 Placing down steaming breakfast places in front of both you and Dustin, your mom sat at the head of the table.

“So mom,” Dustin spoke as he shoveled food into his mouth.

Moving your food around your plate, you glanced up at him.

“Can Steve come over today?” He questioned.

“Oh!” Your mom exclaimed placing her coffee mug down. “Steve? He’s a wonderful boy. Of course!” 

Halting your moments, you seemed to be frozen in place as ice coursed through your veins. That was a name you hadn’t heard since you graduated from Hawkins High. King Steve wasn’t exactly someone you wanted to be around then, nor was he someone you wanted to be around now.

“I’m going to be out of town for the next few days, why don’t I ask him to babysit you?”

“Yes!” Dustin exclaimed, showing his ‘Pearly whites.’

Coughing awkwardly, it seemed as if both of them had forgotten you were there. “Why do you want to pay someone to babysit, when I can do it for free?” You proposed, lifting your eyebrow at your mom.

“Ah, Come on. Y/N.” Dustin whined. “I haven’t seen Steve in forever!”

Scoffing you rolled your eyes. “You just saw him.” You spoke moving your hands about. “Two days ago.” 

“Yeah, but that’s like...Forever for us kids!” He spoke sticking out his bottom lip while crossing his arms along his chest.

Scoffing, you mirrored his body language, as you sat back in your cheat.

“Let Dusty have his fun, Y/N.” Your mom spoke, sending you her best puppy eyes.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, you knew whatever argument you had wouldn’t get through to either one of them. Standing up from the table, you muttered a silent, ‘Whatever,’ as you made your way towards the kitchen threshold.

“Aren’t you going to finish your breakfast?” Your mom questioned with furrowed eyebrows.

“I'm not hungry anymore.” You spat, bolting back up to your room, making sure t slam the door shut in the process.

---

After your mom left, it was you and the boys. Dustin had invited the party over. Instantly, they busied themselves with playing Dungeons and Dragons claiming the basement as their space.

As things began to quieten down, you ventured out of your room situating yourself on the living room couch. Once you put a movie in, you were quick to make yourself comfortable, wrapping yourself in a blanket burrito.

Star Wars played on the television, as you felt yourself on the brink of slumber. The sound of someone bounding up the basement steps echoed in your mind. 

“There you are.” A familiar voice spoke softly. “I was wondering when you were going to come out.” They spoke teasingly. Rounding the corner of the couch, Steve moved to sit on the floor in front of the couch, making sure not to intrude on your space.

You hummed in response, as your gaze flickered back to the movie.

Silence fell between you along with something else, that you couldn’t quite place a finger on. 

“Why do you hate me?” Steve’s voice dripped with pain. His eyes glistened with dejection.

Your jaw falling slack at his question. Furrowing your eyebrows together in confusion, you sat up. “I...I don’t hate you.” You frowned. “Why would you think that?”

Steve let out a sigh, moving to rest an elbow on the couch allowing him to better face you. Shrugging he pondered your question. “You just...Never want to be around me.” His voice wavering slightly.

“To be fair, you weren’t exactly a joy to be around in school.” You spoke raising your hands slightly in surrender.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “You got me there.”

“I guess...You’re not that bad.” You spoke tilting your head slightly, gazing at him observantly. “You’re always around the party and you always take good care of my brother.”

“See,” Steve spoke moving his hands about.

Another silence fell between you, however this time it was comfortable and relaxing.

Letting out a sigh, Steve rubbed along his face. Standing up, he fidgeted with his shirt. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude on your alone time. I just....”

“Needed a break?” You grinned at Steve upwardly. “I get it. Sometimes they can be a handful.”

Steve let out a relaxed sigh, as he nodded in agreement.

Walking towards the basement door, his pace was slow. Almost as if he didn’t want to go.

“You know. You could stay up here...With me.” The words fell fast from your lips before you could stop them.

“I-” Turning on his heel, his eyes gleamed with hope. “You really wouldn’t mind?”

Lifting a side of your mouth, you shook your head. 

---

As the night went on, you felt yourself becoming more and more comfortable with Steve. He was much more different from the Steve you had known about in high school.

At some point in the night, Steve had gone out of his way and made you both popcorn. 

Laying on the couch, Steve laid behind you, making sure to respect your boundaries and not touch you. As you were watching the Breakfast Club, you let out a sigh. Ever so slightly, you scooted back allowing your back to come in contact with Steve’s chest. 

Doing so, you could feel Steve’s break hitch in his throat as he cautiously placed his hand on your waist. Giggling, you tugged his arm tighter around you causing you both to lay snug underneath the blankets. Gently placing his hand on your stomach, he began lightly tracing patterns attempting to soothe you.

“It’s okay to be sad, you know.” He spoke in a hushed tone, whispering in your ear as the warmth of his breath danced around the shell of your ear. 

“How did-”

“Do you think I wouldn’t notice if the girl I liked was sad?”

“I-”

“Sometimes.” He whispered, placing a gentle kiss behind your ear. “We have to allow ourselves to feel it. That’s what makes us human.”

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[skitter-kitter]

Fic Masterlist

Most of my fics are listed here for the sake of organization! (Last updated 7/3/21)

MCYT 

New Beginnings

Technoblade (the streamer) is sent into the Dream SMP, and must rely on Dream to survive in this new world. (Set during Tommy’s Exile!) Lots of angst and codependency! There are currently four parts out of this series.

MimicVerse Knockoffs

A series of stories inspired by Subl1m1nals own series Mimic Verse, wherein an evil version of Technoblade takes his counterparts place. Tommy is the only one who notices Techno’s change in personality, and tries to prove to the rest of their friends that this is not their Technoblade. (Set outside of the Dream SMP!) Lots of angst and hurt/comfort from Subl1m1nal, and a ton of angst and pain from my series.

i will be changing soon

An SCP AU based on the Sleepy Bois Inc. Family Dynamic! Centered on Techno! A fair amount of angst and violence.

certain things will never go back to how they used to be

A fic based around Sam, Quackity, and Dream’s mentality during the first day of Quackity torturing Dream. Angst, with some blood and violence. 

phantom home

A character study based around Sam and his relationship with Las Nevadas and Pandora’s Vault. Lots of angst, and some pseudo-fluff.

bodies in the basement

A Sam-centric character study based around his torture of Ponk, Tommy’s death, and his relationship with Quackity. Angst, blood and violence! Read the tags!

refuge

A Quackity-centric fic about 3 times Sam helped Quackity and one time Quackity helped Sam. Lots of angst and violence, but with a happy ending!

indulging in you

A soulmate AU based around Schlatt and Quackity, and the impact that their soulmarks have had on one another. Angst and a character study! 

One Day (One Hour)

A Schlatt-centric fic about Schlatt being stuck in a time loop after his death. Lots of angst and manipulation from Schlatt!

the greatest sacrifice

A character study of Skeppy during his day trapped in the Egg, and what caused him to turn so apathetic toward everything he used to love. Angst, hurt no comfort!

A Single Orange Rose

A Fundy-centric fic based around Fundy and Dream’s marriage. Angst with a healthy dose of unhealthy relationships!

our home in hell

A fun fic based around Technoblade and Quackity both being raised in an illegal hybrid fighting ring. Lots of fluff, (because I lost motivation to write the chapter where the angst starts up) but a lot of violence and children getting hurt.

convalescence

A Tommy-centric fic based around five times Tommy got hurt, and the one time someone helped him. A lot of angst with some comfort at the end!

our patchwork family

A fic based on egare’s ( @elpalaccio ) chaos, she politely knocked, based on the mystery of where Tommy was staying while Quackity was dealing with Technoblade. This is a mix of a Tommy and Sam character study, with some angst and humor thrown in!

pawn to e8

A fic based on egare’s ( @elpalaccio ) chaos, she politely knocked, wherein Quackity is a shapeshifter and after the failed execution he is forcibly recruited by Dream. The original has a lot of angst and found family, and my fic carries the angst train by giving Quackity’s POV of his breakdown in chapter 11.

Best Friend

A Glatt-centric fic based around the idea that he’s forgotten his life before death, but unlike Ghostbur he is not remembered for the “good” he did in life. Lots of heavy angst!

evolution of the smartest

A Pokemon AU that centers around Technoblade and his journey to becoming champion! 

in my heart, in my hand

A Sapnap-centric fic wherein Quackity has been dead since Technoblade’s execution. Lots of angst and grief and major character death!

open arms

A fun cracky fic based around “what if Quackity proposed to all his enemies (and friends) and they had family reunions every few months”. Tons of fluff and fun! Oh also some Fundy angst lol

you could be happy

A Hogwarts AU that centers around Technoblade, a mis-sorted Hufflepuff, and Dream, a Slytherin, and their quest to find a spell to control others. Angst, with a character getting caught in a blizzard!

three of a kind

A fic inspired by dappledleave’s healing: achieved underground, a Quackity-centric fic based around his time in Pogtopia! Since it’s all Quackity’s POV I decided to do a character study for Schlatt, George, and Fundy from healing. Just some general angst!

your worst fears come true

A Sam-centric fic based around Wilbur’s revival, and Sam’s hesitation to kill the intruder at the time. An exploration of what would happen if Tommy died a second time in Pandora’s Vault. Lots of angst and completely canon divergent.

Love and Loss

A fic based around the theory that Sir Billiam III and Sheriff Sherman Thompson are brothers, and that John John is the Butler! Some fluff and some angst, plus some canonical major character death!

Badlands!Techno

A Techno-centric AU series where Technoblade joined the Badlands after the Red Festival! Mild angst!

heart and soul

A study of Techno’s relationship with the staff of Hypixel. Fluff and found family!

Star Wars

Domir

A fun peek into a “Maul trains Ezra” AU! Lots of angst and canon divergence!

Family Reunion

An AU wherein the Bridger’s take refuge with the Rebellion, after they believe their son has died. After fifteen years, they reunite with their son, who has become Maul’s apprentice in their absence. Lots of angst and feels!

a better version

A canon divergence of the “Visions and Voices” episode wherein Ezra manages to convince Maul to help him save Kanan and Sabine. Lots of angst and canon divergence!

our final night alive

A character study about Maul and Savage and brotherhood. Lots of angst, as is typical with these two.

nobody to love

An AU where during "Visions and Voices” Maul sees Savage’s ghost among the Nightsisters. Fairly short, but lots of angst.

fantasies of a better future

A fic inspired by @doorsclosingslowly​ ‘s fic Your death is a number but I cannot count that high which is a Savage Lived AU on angst steroids. My fic is an imagining of the reunion between Savage and Maul, before said scene was written! Lots of angst, as per usual.

acidic words

A fic about Dathomirian’s tattoos and how their meanings change in a world filled with soulmate-identifying marks. Some angst!

keep breathing

An AU wherein Ezra is found by the Inquisitors at a young age. Some fluff and angst, and a surprising amount of found family content!

legacy of kings

A fic based around the Haunted Dark Saber Theory (anyone who uses the Dark Saber can see/is possessed by the past users) wherein Maul becomes the Mand’alor, fights his former master, and loses his brother, all in a matter of hours. Mild angst.

standing on forgotten memories

An outsider POV of a Maul getting de-aged fic. Some angst and some vague mentions of Maul’s childhood.

the most honorable thing

A fic about Maul finding his way to the World Between Worlds, and saving his brother. Some angst with a happy ending!

Cardooine Chills

A sickfic with Savage taking care of Maul. Some angst and hurt/comfort.

Marble Hornets

heresy of heresies

Tim timetravels back to his childhood. Angst.

squeeze you empty

An Alex Lives AU wherein Liu Woods finds him in Rosswood Park. Blood, injury, and angst.

handfuls of dust

A sequel to squeeze you empty wherein Masky reunites with Alex. Angst.

who controls the past controls the future

Alex is stuck in a time loop based around the day Tim kills him. Angst and violence.

hold me close

A platonic soulmates AU. Lots of angst.

a smile, a hug

A fic about Masky being the Dad of Slender Manor.

flowers blooming, lungs aflame

Hanahaki Disease is a symptom of Slender Sickness. Angst.

a flare in the night

A fire starts in Slender Manor. Some mild angst.

Creepypasta

time heals no wounds

A fic about Sally and playing with the “a traitor in Slendermansion” trope. Lots of angst.

Harry Potter

just send me home

An AU wherein Harry is a seer working for Voldemort. Lots of angst and violence. Read the tags.

Warriors

Buteo Jamaicensis

A Hawkfrost character study. Heavy angst and hurt no comfort.

hand in unlovable hand

An AU of Into The Wild wherein Firepaw loses to Brokenstar, and is held captive by the Shadowclan leader. The fic is set many, many moons later and deals with the consequences of Firepaw being missing during that time. Lots of angst and major character death.

Déjà Vu

A fun Ashfur character study based around his time in Starclan and how he feels about Hollyleaf and Hawkfrost. Some angst and blood.

Pistanthrophobia

A fic about Hawkfrost being chosen for the New Prophecy quest instead of Brambleclaw. Lots of angst with a sprinkling of Riverclan loving Hawkfrost.

omitted from history

A fic about Feathertail meeting the original founders of the Clans. Some angst and fluff.

Tangled: The Series

Factory Reset

A fic about Varian getting his memory wiped during “Rapunzel’s Return”. Lots of angst.

Weeping Angels

A fic wherein Varian gets trapped in the amber instead of Quirin, and Quirin goes on a quest to the Dark Kingdom to free his son. Angst and emotional hurt no comfort.

love languages

A fic co-authored by my friend i_am_not_a_bird about the soulmarks of Rapunzel, Cassandra, Varian, Eugene, and all of the Brotherhood! Lots of angst, as per usual!

Axiom of Maria

A fic wherein I finally got Moonstone!Cassandra and Varian to team up against Rapunzel after four months of planning. Some angst, but mainly it’s a character study.

Gravity Falls

It’s Called: Freefall

A fic based around a Bill Wins AU, and a Dipper from that universe timetraveling back. Hopefully, to fix things. Lots of angst and violence, some character death.

burn you right up

A fic inspired by Child_OTKW’s Broken and Lost, a fic about Reverse Falls and how Weirdmageddon went in their universe. My fic was my own imagining of their childhood before the fic happened. Lots of angst and unhealthy relationships.

Heathers

Missing: Heather Chandler

A fic inspired by cipherdoodle’s The Ballad of Heather Chandler, my fic is set directly after Heather and JD go on the run and their resulting conversations. Lots of angst.

36 Questions

fondness is just another word for regret

A character study about Jase’s thought process during the two-year time skip. Mild angst.

Pokémon Mystery Dungeon

i’ll be by your side (even in death)

A character study about the relationship between the Player and Partner Pokémon after the Player’s “death”. Some angst and hurt/comfort and complicated relationships.

[cruciology]

Familiar Need

Requested by anon: Could you do a Sandor x reader she's one of Baelish's girls and Sandy is a regular and he takes her with him after the Blackwater battle? Idk if that made sense?

You sunk the pitcher beneath the surface of the steaming water, filling it to the brim before pouring it over the Hound’s head. Setting the pitcher on the wooden table next to the tub, you grabbed the bar of soap. The Hound let you run your fingers through his hair as you straddled him, both of your naked bodies hidden under the water. His hands held your hips, absently feeling the curves of your body as you scrubbed dirt and sweat and, most likely, blood from his hair. 

You had many odd requests from customers in your time; bathing together was a perfectly normal one compared to others. But you had heard many things about the Hound. You had been afraid when he paid for your services that he would be one of the more difficult clients, someone who took pleasure in hurting you, seeing you bruised or beaten. So you had been surprised when he had asked you to bathe with him. It seemed so innocent. What followed after was nothing but, but every time was the same. Every time, he wanted the same thing. Every time, he asked for you by name. 

He took the soap from you, taking his turn to wash you with his large hands. His thumb traced your nipple, making you suck in a short breath. In your line of work, you didn’t meet a lot of people that could make you do that. That was something else that surprised you when the Hound had first come to you. You assumed he would be like any other client, tossing some coins at you and finishing as soon as they could get their cock into you. But the Hound liked to take his time. He liked to hear you moan his name, to feel you come undone around him. 

You toyed with the thick, dark hair that covered his chest as he ran his hands across your back. You leaned in, placing a kiss on his scarred cheek first, then his lips. 

“Almost didn’t think you were going to come see me tonight,” you said. You knew how you sounded. Needy. But you had come to look forward to the Hound’s visits. The first time he had chosen you, you had been frightened, but that was over a year ago. You knew him much better than that now. “You haven’t been here in days.”

“Been busy,” He said shortly. He tucked away a strand of your hair that had fallen loose from where you had tied it up. It was hard to believe that the hands that had taken the lives of so many men could be so gentle with you. The other women in the brothel were terrified of him. They didn’t understand how you could let him touch you, let alone how you could look forward to it. It wasn’t a secret that he was a killer and that he took pleasure in it, but that wasn’t the side he showed to you. You often found yourself aching for his touch. Like right then, when you sat on top of his thick cock, hard and waiting. You could easily adjust yourself and have him fill you, but you only had to wait a bit longer. 

“Been busy a lot since dear King Joffrey took the throne,” you said with no attempt to hide your disdain. 

“Keeping that little shit alive is a lot of work,” the Hound grumbled. He would never speak ill of his charge with anyone but you. He wasn’t stupid. 

“Is it true what they’re saying?” You asked. “About King Robert’s brother coming with an army?” 

“Do you really want to talk of battles and war?” The Hound asked, dropping the bar of soap into the empty pitcher on the table. 

“I don’t care much for war, no, but I do like to be informed,” You said. “It’s not a secret that Lord Stannis has no love for women in my profession.” 

“You do sound informed.” 

“If we manage to survive the attacks, I fear I don’t know what he’ll do with us afterwards, the godless whores.” It was a bit of a hot topic in the last few days. You had to assure the other girls that you were positive things would be alright despite having little optimism yourself. 

The Hound kissed your collar bone, then your throat, moving to your jaw, and finally kissing your lips. His hand caressed your cheek, his finger tips burying in your hair. He pulled your hair down, the ends of it grazing the water just slightly as it fell down around your shoulders. You traced your thumb along the burned side of his face as you kissed him back. He used to hate being touched there, thinking that it must disgust you like it did everyone else. Now, he enjoyed the feel of your soft hands against the ruined flesh. 

“Nothing will happen to you,” The Hound promised, his lips still on yours. 

“You can be so sure?” You asked. 

He stood up, holding you tightly against him with just one arm. Sometimes you thought he just liked to show off how strong he really was, but you didn’t really mind. You liked how easy it was for him to hold you. He stepped out of the brass tub, still dripping water. Taking you to the other side of the large room, he pressed you onto the fur blanket on the bed. In one quick thrust, he was fully inside of you. You never could quite get used to his size, it always made you gasp. Normally, he liked to take his time, exploring all of your body before entering you, but he seemed to know how badly you needed to feel him, all of him. 

“I’m sure,” He said, kissing you roughly. He took both your hands in his, drawing them up above your head and pinning them. His free hand slid down your body, following your curves to the point where your bodies met. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, making you arch into him, your eyes squeezing shut. 

“Sandor,” You gasped out. His grip on your hands tightened and his speed quickened. Each thrust of his hips slammed into you, making you feel closer to the breaking point. He knew exactly how to make you come undone. The stars of light burst behind your eyelids, your chest heaving as you came. The Hound released his grip on your hands, holding himself up on his elbows as he pushed into you almost violently. 

You pushed him back, rolling him over onto his back and catching him by surprise. He held your hips to guide your rhythm. It was his favorite way to fuck you. He was so much larger than you, he worried you’d be crushed under his weight. With you on top of him, he could focus on how good your pussy felt. You liked being able to watch his face as you fucked him. You liked seeing his eyes squeeze shut as he felt you slide up and down his hard cock. You liked the feel of him digging his fingers into your ass. You steadied yourself with your hands on his chest, rolling your hips against him. 

“Fuck,” The Hound growled as you rode him. He squeezed tighter to you and you knew that meant he was close. He would pull out of you just in time to finish on your thigh with a grunt, but very suddenly, you didn’t want that. You moved your hands over his where they still held you. 

“Finish in me,” You said. You heard him curse again before you felt him shudder, filling you with his hot seed. 

His chest heaved as you got off of him. You rested your head on his shoulder, finally feeling the cool night air on your still slightly damp skin. You lay in silence for a long time, just listening to his breathing. 

“You’re that afraid that you’re going to die?” He asked finally. 

“I wanted to feel all of you,” You said. You could still feel him inside of you, not just the dull but pleasant ache he always left, but also the stickiness creeping down your thighs. “Don’t leave tonight.” 

“I can’t-,” 

“Sandor,” You said, lifting yourself onto your elbow. He studied your face as you looked down on him. “Please, stay.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed you by the waist, pulling you back on top of him. You laid your head on his chest, letting him pull the blanket over both of you. 

Stupid. You were bloody stupid. You should be down in the basement with the rest of the girls, but instead, you were up in the brothel alone. Even Littlefinger was nowhere to be found. If he could be counted on for anything, it would be saving his own skin. 

You were only out of hiding out of sickening curiosity. You heard rumors of wildfire. You figured you would be safe enough, with the battle being mostly on the shores. If you had just stayed inside, watching from the safety of your room, you would have been fine. It was when you decided to step outside of the brothel. 

You weren’t even ten steps away from the door when you were pulled so hard you feared your arm would pop out of its socket. You immediately shoved back, but when the dagger pressed to your throat, all attempts to fight back were quieted. 

You couldn’t tell where the man had come from, what side he was on. It didn’t really matter. Both had bad men and any man threatening you with a blade was bad in your book. You were sure you knew exactly what he wanted from you. A man coming to a whorehouse wanted one thing. 

“Let’s step inside,” He said, smiling with a rotten mouth, reeking of ale. His weapon was still pressed to your skin. If you so much as breathed too heavily, you would bleed. 

“Please,” You said. “Just lower your dagger.” 

“How do I know you won’t run?” The man asked, keeping his dagger exactly where it was.

“Where is there to run in all of this?” You asked him. As if to make your point, a flash of green fire burst to the chorus of screams. 

Looking satisfied with that answer, the man pulled his dagger away from you, his hand still tightly on your arm. But with a flash of silver, his grip went slack and he was suddenly relieved of his head. It was your turn to scream. 

But your terror only lasted a moment when you realized who the sword belonged to. 

“Sandor!” You cried in relief, throwing you arms around the Hound’s neck. He hugged you back, lifting you off the ground, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. “Are you alright? Why are you here? You should be-,” 

“I know where I should be,” The Hound said, setting you back on your feet. “And it’s not in that fucking castle.” 

“Won’t you be in trouble for abandoning the king?” 

“I’ll be in more trouble for telling him to go fuck himself,” The Hound said. You let out a surprised laugh. “I’m leaving. Tonight. Right now.” 

“What?” You felt as if you had been slapped. “Where?”

“Don’t fucking know, but I’m going,” He said. He grabbed one of your hands with his, dwarfing it. You always felt so small next to him. Small, but safe. Always safe. “Come with me.”

You studied his face. He knew what he was asking. This wasn’t a fleeting feeling. You belonged to Littlefinger just as much as the Hound belonged to the King. You would be stealing yourself away, but it would be in good company. 

You squeezed his hand and nodded. 

[starwarsfishie]

My friends and I came up with a silly Star Wars AU based on another post here... Its a library vs book store AU, details under the cut

Jedi are librarians, you can use books but you should never get too attached to them. Also, books are organized by dewey decimal system and are orderly so people can find what they need right away.

Sith are book store owners- you must pay for anything that you have an interest in reading and it will consume all the room in your home. Books are organized by how new they are / how well they sell. Its rambling rooms draw you in and make you look through all the options until your purse is light and your arms are heavy.

Anakin was not the apprentice librarian he should be, and always got attached to the good stories, getting sentimental about volumes he'd read with Padme and would continually pay the fines to keep them checked out.

Obi Wan knew he had books he wasn't returning, but turned a blind eye bc he always paid the fees on time.

Anakin starts running out of money, the library is volunteer-based work and he needs more for the fees, as his bookshelf at home is getting expensive to maintain.

Palpatine shows him all the well-loved books he could get for Padme, any book any time (for the right price) and he is intrigued. If he co-owned with Palpatine he would get 25% profits from the shop. He decides to tell Obi-Wan that he is quitting by standing up in the middle of the kids story time and yelling that the library system is evil and drains good people of their pocket money. Obi Wan drops a bookshelf on him and lights it on fire, then walks away thinking that is that. Padme leaves him bc he broke all those kids hearts and he breaths funny now. He gets no visitation rights for same reasons.

Palpatine and Anakin get so much money from selling shitty things that the New York Times bestseller list suggested to people that they were able to lobby to take public funding away from libraries and they had to go into hiding, swapping and bartering for books in basements and in cafes until Luke (an activist who believes in libraries, and may have blown up a massive bookstore) convinces Anakin that bookstores are not the best actually, and 25% profit with no benefits or healthcare is kinda bad.

Anyway, if you are still reading I hope you got a chuckle, or at least a small smile. Please feel free to add anything you can think of