#thank you for all this support as always! i am spoiled by my readers <3 im so so happy you enjoy these two weirdos

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟓 | 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐐𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"Two warriors with nowhere to let their adrenaline– two Alderans melting like beeswax and forgetting not to touch. Two of you, just the two of you, breathing."

slight cw drunken antics + slurred speech. shoestring patience. you are the only sober two left and carrying your friends to bed requires teamwork. remembering how to speak and pretending not to stare even though exhaustion makes Alderan eyes prettier. the first laughs– warm and uncontrollable. a quiet realization at the foot of the bed where your bodies keep curling closer 3.9k

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The Great Hall vibrates the entire castle tonight. The celebration is obscene. The king is home.

You do not eat in the Hall, you never do, but you stand guard– sit guard from the grand staircase outside just in case. Music rolls through the closed Hall doors up to the entryway's silver constellations. The observatory is finished. The king is home. He does not attend his own banquet tonight and so you do not worry for your company inside. How did he never occur to you? He who built the garden prison for his wife and made it so that there is nowhere to properly hide in Takoba. It’s probably because you’re Alderan that you don’t think much about kings.

If only just until you are found, you will sit on these frosty steps, obscured by their size, and watch the stars twinkle through the widow behind them. It is as tall as they are. This view must be older than this family is because someone built it with love. Because there is nothing behind this part of the castle except for glass and stars and sea.

You smile and long for your oak tree and then smile softer. The muscles in your back ache with overuse, your shoulders too. Sparring with the prince is like dancing.

“Y/n.”

Your head snaps up at the voice from where it had started to slouch with sleep and like a dream your prince is standing at the foot of the staircase. He’s in fine Alderan gold. Did he come through the Hall? How could you doze through the sound of that door opening? Bakugou cocks his head which shakes his ash hair right over his eyes and sends a long red earring to rest soft across his jaw. All you have is moonlight to see him glow.

He hesitates before speaking again, “Is this where you like to hide?”

“You’re one to talk about hiding,” you tease because you are sleepy and lacking basic judgment, and his flinch is hardly hidden, even in the absence of candlelight.

“I need your help.”

If you weren’t awake before you are now, judgment back squarely in place as you skip steps in your hurry to be beside him. Bakugou pulls the air with his temples to lead you to the Hall, boots clicking, hands stiff. Laughter and music vibrates from inside.

“Wait here,” he grumbles and pushes open the door enough to slip through, perfectly enough for the fat wave of alcohol to make you wince. The sound pushes you physically backward a step and your eyes can’t adjust fast enough to stop from squinting, but you can’t help watching even half blind and only mostly awake. It’s only been a few hours but people are standing together on tables in their beautiful frilly clothes, screaming the words to a song no one seems to know. A sea of crowds cheer them on from below, equally as drunk, and the scene stretches on from wall to wall. Line dancing between benches, liquor across the floors and a whole room of joy– Sero is linked arm in arm with two waitstaff at the back of the room, kicking their legs and laughing together at their lack of coordination.

You chuckle before you can think to be weary of so many people crammed together. Uraraka, ten feet off the ground, mimes riding a great stallion around the room with a glass of ale in her fist much to the joy of the soldiers sat below her doubled over with laughter. Shinsou’s not far off, surely to keep her from embarrassing the garrison, but his scowling hands are full of Kaminari who can’t quite stand right without the guard’s hand around his waist. You lean in a bit farther. Just a step. At the front of the room, the Todoroki siblings sit bunched at a clean table, quiet but still talking and drinking like the rest. They are delicate and beautiful and you would lament having a father like theirs if you hadn’t just caught sight of your prince at the table beside them.

He needs help– did something happen? He disappeared this afternoon after the mess in the soldiers’ quarters, is he injured? Is someone else?

Bakugou is grumpy on the best of days, tonight he is fuming. Mina is limp over his shoulder, squealing, and something’s dragging on the floor behind him. You can’t see anything beneath his hips in this crowd.

“What’re ya laughing at?” He hollers over the lively sea and catches you in a stare on his march back to the doors. Were you laughing?

Bakugou holds the stare like he’s got something to say all the way back to your side. A band somewhere under the chaos tunes their strings for another round.

“Alderans can’t hold their liquor,” he growls over the threshold, “like a fucking disease.” It’s Kirishima dragging on the floor behind him. The prince has his champion in a chokehold by the back of the collar. He leans over to drop Mina on the floor, “They’re gone. Can’t go a second without tryin to eat each other’s faces off.” Mina shrieks when she’s plopped to the floor.

He rolls his eyes when he gestures to the pile of drunkards at your feet, “I can’t carry them both upstairs.” Then runs one hand through his hair and flexes the other on his hip to assess the situation. Kirishima drools.

“Miss Mina,” you whisper and crouch in front of her, “can you hold onto me?”

She blinks one eye at a time and grins, “an’thing fr’ pretty lady.”

Kirishima is less lucky, slung across the prince’s shoulders like a training dummy. At least he’s docile. Mina giggles and reels backward every chance she gets from her spot on your back. She squeezes your waist with her thighs and the pressure keeps making you wheeze.

“Ticklish?” Bakugou grunts under the deadweight of his champion. Something catches in his throat and you struggle to keep your head on the hallway ahead instead of checking what kind of face he might be making. He is framed by stars in every window. He glows at the edges in the moonlight. You are ticklish, he knows that.

It’s the four of you trudging through the castle, getting your hair pulled at odd intervals and trying to breathe in the opposite direction of your inebriated company. Kirishima keeps stretching out of his fireman’s hold and with a crackling bark from your prince, ends up halfway down his back. He narrowly catches you when Mina tries to lean back on a staircase, your hands tight under her thighs and the front of your tunic tight in Bakugou’s fist. You would like to laugh. You’re not sure you don’t, but Bakugou doesn’t pause to revel in stupidity with you.

He stays frustrated and silent and you remember dusk bedtimes at camp. Time passed frowning on carriages. Trying as hard as he is now not to look at you. It is easy to hate him.

You might have lost your fury, but your job isn’t lost to you. You haven’t forgotten your responsibility to your kingdom. Protect her son and serve the queen and keep your place in the castle. Don’t kill the King of Takoba. Mina doesn’t weigh much and she keeps the cold away, one foot in front of the other. Bakugou’s golden hair rustles with each step beside you and his biceps, frustrated, flex around Kirishima’s legs. It’s easy, so easy, so much safer to hate him and you just can’t remember how. 

Your drowsiness vanished with adrenaline and when adrenaline vanished there wasn’t anything left in its place, it would be awfully easy for something to slip inside.

“She didn’t understand,” you murmur hardly loud enough to hear. Mina twirls your hair.

Even for all his stoicism tonight, the prince still rumbles an, “eh?” into the corridor. Maybe he rolls his eyes? Regardless, he doesn’t stop marching with his barely-conscious cargo.

You murmur again, “Shuzenji.” And he stumbles a bit. His champion is too heavy. “When I thanked her for the room.”

Something inside him shifts beside you– you can hear it, just there under his ribs– like the crumbling of a campfire. He’s looking at you now so you remind yourself not to turn and stare. You smile. It’s getting easier.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t bother.”

“For saving me.”

It’s the two of you walking side by side, failing impossibly. Trying hard not to watch one another.

“Repaying a debt.”

Blood bursts gently under the skin. And you can no longer speak without the smile, no matter how hard you try to tuck your chin into the bundle of Mina’s fingers at your collarbones.

Jeanist and your oak tree, Mitsuki at midnight, how many people can you say fill you with ease?

Bakugou is holding his breath but being here is still easy. Walking is easy. Mina is slipping a bit to the side. Standing close to him is warm, not arson. Sparring with him has made the air too thin and if you’re not careful you’ll touch him again. He’s buckling under the weight of something and you think maybe one of you needs to be tense for the other to know peace–

A clap explodes through the chill of the nighttime castle and your heart pops, a quiet overflow, at the immediate need to account for one thousand things, surroundings, threat, variables, full arms, Bakugou, a pantry staircase, the dark, and when you jolt to fix Mina back upright, she resists. Her hand is planted firmly on the meat of your prince’s ass, where she made good on a t-up to slap him as hard as you’ve ever heard anything hit. He’s frozen. You spit. There’s nothing for it.

As you sink to your knees, her palm leaves a grip in the crease of his trousers and you can barely keep her attached to you with one hand, the other muffling your laughter.

“Attaboy,” Mina groans across your shoulder.

It happens so much faster than you’d expect. But of course he must love them this much for a reason– Bakugou’s lips burst apart in a puff and one rich chuckle breaks the surface. He doesn’t hide it this time. It is flint and tinder. You turn up to him with startled eyes and his smile might be the sun; it’s hardly there and he can’t hide it, doesn’t– he can’t and he doesn’t even try. Yours hasn’t fallen and you don’t think you could force it down for anything.

“dn’t tell kiri.”

Mina’s last words come before either of you try to look away from the other, and modesty evaporates. Bakugou’s grin erupts across his face and you disintegrate fully in hysterics on the rug. He tips his head back and roars.

His laugh is a bonfire, you can hardly hope to hear it and ever calm down, you will laugh together like this until you die surely. He stumbles in his giddiness and backs against the walls to support Kirishima’s weight– Kirishima who wheezes between the chill of the marble and the body of his friend. Tears shine in four Alderan eyes. Mina growls at your jostling. Your hands are stuck firmly to the ground to keep you both from falling over but, surrendering, she lets her fingers slip limp from your neck and tips right over sideways, sprawled.

“– wait Mina, fuck, gods–”

All it takes it one fuck to have Bakugou sliding down the wall like a ragdoll, a hand trying to stitch his gut back together. He’s wheezing now too, exhausted. His ears are red. The veins in the back of his fist threaten to spill from how hard he clenches in laughter.

One second of eye contact and you’re both inconsolable again on the ground. He and Kirishima hunched against the wall, you trembling over your lost cargo, “Mina come back,” you urge through gasps and giggles. Every time you look over to Bakugou, another bout of something bubbles up from your heart. It comes out with the laughter you can’t keep down, but they aren’t the same. They can’t be. One is rich and warm, and the other burns like sugar. Like breathing fire.

A foot soldier is not thrilled to find the four of you enjoying yourselves all over her post and doesn’t appear overly excited at the prospect of corralling Alderans to bed. 

“Up,” someone grunts, so much softer than anyone you know. Prince Bakugou has steadied himself on his feet and Kirishima again on his back, and leans over where you’re trying to coax Mina’s arms over your shoulders. He tries to suppress it, but his canines poke sharp out of the corner of a grin. He looms close. Close enough to cast his shadow over you in the moonlight and waft caramel through your hair, “C’mon.”

You would have complied without an argument, if anything failed to contain a chuckle or two, but he doesn’t give you time. Bakugou loops one arm around Mina’s back and your chest and lifts both of you up in an effortless hoist. You rush to grab onto her in the seconds he lets you dangle a few good inches off the ground before setting you down again. He rolls his eyes at the Takoban guard, “Dead on my fucking feet,” and reaches for you to follow. He’s blinking at you like he didn’t just toss three full-grown Alderans around and you’re focusing hard to blink back. Your ears itch with an awful heat.

“Captain,” he looks between the guard– antsy and relieved– and you, and smirks with confusion, “let’s go.”

You hop twice to situate Mina and nod as politely to the guard as you can manage before falling in line beside your prince. Your shoulders bump in the rush. Not-looking was easier before you knew what his smile sounded like.

Mina’s room is in the guest wing, where they house drunk ball guests and foreign diplomats. It’s entirely plain. You ignore a pang of satisfaction at your new bedroom in the highest tower and knock the door open with your hip, boys close behind.

Bakugou hardly waits a second before he dumps Kirishima over his shoulder hard onto a white sofa. They both wheeze, Kirishima more of a subdued misery compared to his prince’s relief and the next sound is a creak not a breath because Bakugou’s feet are heavy on the floorboards when he walks away.

Your friends aren’t lords, but you’re still a soldier. You’ll be gentle. In the dark, you sit at the edge of Mina’s bed and lower her backward into the blankets where she lays, snoring, before you roll her onto her side. It’s pitch black with the curtains drawn, but you know from the silence the prince is long gone.

With a few pillows lined up behind Mina, you rise and make your way to the poor champion in a lump on a sofa much too small for him. You’ll need light for this. The curtains take two hands to tie back; they’re thick for winter weather but when you do, moonlight drowns the room and everyone inside begins to glow. Why are beautiful things here so cold? Your stomach aches from the laughter and you try to be thankful instead of anything else that the prince has gone to bed. This is your job after all. You can’t smell the sea with the windows closed and so it’s almost like being home, dead alone like always.

“What’re you doing?”

Your forehead cracks against the glass in surprise and you turn with both hands pressed hard to your head like you weren’t just falling asleep against the windowpane.

Bakugou raises an eyebrow behind a tall candle and shuts the door behind him. “You know you’re not actually talkin when you stare like that, right?” His grin is more sarcastic than before but no less warm. You gather yourself as the prince sets his candle in a slot beside the door and surveys his company. “Go to bed,” he clucks after a moment of thought.

He crosses the room and inspects three more fat candles melted together on a table in front of the sofa. Kirishima groans. Bakugou pinches a wick. Pink and white burst from under his fingernails and purple crackles under the light his sparks make. Red is next. Pinching, pinching, popping in the dark, until each candle has been lit by the smell of caramel.

He crosses again and lowers himself onto a pile of blankets at the foot of the bed as you watch and remember to speak, “Go.”

“I can’t leave them.” 

“They’re fine.”

“I won’t.”

After weeks of defiance, why does he choose now to smile like that? “You’re a nightmare.” 

“I can’t. If they aspirate–”

“They’ll deserve it.”

“Highness–”

“You think I can’t keep two drunk babies from dying in their sleep?” Bakugou rolls his eyes and finally scoops his chin up to look at you.

Weeks, months– years, of vitriol– and in three nights you’ve forgotten how his lips curl when he stares at something that he hates. How could you think of anything but home when he watches you with all his attention and the warmth of earthenware eyes? How does your heart hold its seams closed?

He will watch over his friends without sleep, he will suffer their boredom in a matchbox carriage so that they can see this ocean he hates so much. He will fight Takobans and diplomats and royalty to keep his party safe, he’ll sit in the kitchens and pluck your splinters instead of attending a feast in his honor and he will throw himself into the sea.

“Y/n.”

“I won’t leave you.”

His flinch would be bright enough to see on a starless night– in the blacks of shadows. You kneel beside the soft spot he’s made for himself at the foot of Mina’s bed and try to remember how easy it was to laugh with him now that the closeness makes your skin prickle at the hair. He clears his throat instead of teasing.

Two warriors with nowhere to let their adrenaline– two Alderans melting like beeswax and forgetting not to touch. Two of you, just the two of you, breathing.

His voice comes and you turn to look because you are incorrigible. His lips are the first thing that catch the light of the stars in the window beyond you. They’re crooked with attitude. He wets them when he’s thinking and they purse to the left as he speaks.

“I,” The sound is gravel underfoot, “I want..”

You hum, confused– exhausted– and he blinks once slowly, something between frustration and thought and the lull of bed, before turning to meet you. This isn’t the closest you’ve ever been. That helps you see him better. A scar you’ve never noticed catches the moonlight and shines in his hairline and you can count the sleep starting to gather in his pretty eyes.

“Yesterday– earlier I,” a shake of his head kills the thought. It’s hard to hear so you’re much too close and when your pinky presses his from how near you are leaning he turns away and frames himself again in starlight like a ruffled hen. “Earlier,” growling now, “Why unarmed?”

“Unarmed what?”

His jaw catches candlelight when he looks to you again so quickly, exasperated but seemingly entertained, “Combat, you oaf.”

“In the soldiers’ quarters?”

Where did the hatred go? There are mosquitoes you haven’t forgiven– is that what this is? Forgiveness. Sitting on your knees like a proper soldier but letting sleep take all other reason away? Pressing closer than you need to hear him because it is autumn in hell and fire radiates from his chest– a longing Alderan fire you lost somewhere in the sea.

Bakugou rolls amused eyes but nods at the question. Forgiveness isn’t right but you can’t move away, you will never be free of him. You will never want to be.

“It’s,” you start, distracted by weariness and the rhythm of Mina’s breathing– footsteps in the castle and a blue tinge on the windows edge like frost– he bumps your shoulder with his. Warmth finally bleeds into you. He watches just as close as you do because you’re both whispering hardly-awake, but his attention is firmly yours. Red flicks from your neck to an ear, and back again. From your eyes to your lips and back again.

“It’s harder to hold back with a weapon.”

He jerks back instead of spitting on you because his laughter comes faster than he can keep it down, but Kirishima groans and candles flicker and you close your eyes to eat the sound of his joy. You’re slipping. You curl towards him and rest your head on the curve of the bed as he regains the parts of himself that will help him sit up. When he faces you again he’s lost his shield and spear. The iron that clenched his jaw and furrowed his brows and slit his eyes and lace his scowl with hatred, gone. All that’s left is lionheart laughter and a fascination with your smile.

Two Alderans melting. Your legs are sliding out from under that proper kneel and his hands are slipping from the fists he tried to knot them in. Bakugou mirrors you when he rests his head on the edge of the mattress because his bonfire is burning down. Mina snores once loudly and startles herself.

“What does aspiration sound like?” Prince Bakugou Katsuki is his mother’s son smiling with a pale moon cheek smushed into the bedding that supports him. Always looking at you. Close enough to hold.

“Like someone choking on vomit.”

He laughs with everything he has left and rolls his face flat into the duvet. Everything he has left isn’t much, maybe just a candle. It’s enough that you’re smiling again in the pool of wax.

He peeks one eye out from the blanket, “Think we’re in the clear?”

He will roar, he will kill for his people and speak to strangers like ants. He will scare children and end wars and infuriate his dressmaker. He will glare. He will let his mages tease him because it makes them happy and he will watch over them when they’re too drunk to stand. He might laugh. Gods please laugh again. He will close every window and throw you a peach and he will make magic because he knows that you love it.

Suddenly it’s easy, not forgiveness, something new. You, spear and shield of the king. Something like devotion.

It’s a horrible thing to sleep on the floor and Bakugou wakes up first, facing the sunrise with your weight on his arm. You, the fierce and deadly dragon. Your cheek is pressed to his shoulder and the pressure makes you pout. Your lips tremble with breath.

He’ll watch your chest rise. He’ll let your fingers curl around his like ivy when he dares to move and he’ll close his eyes for a moment instead of thinking too hard about hunger or the pink scar that pokes out from the neck of your tunic. You will wake up slightly later than dawn, drooling, alone, blankets wrapped warmly around you.

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @nonomesupposedto @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @lunrai @km7474 @cathwritestragediesnotsins @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @falling4fandoms @katanaski @romiinlove @cherripunch26 @acid-rain27 @bakugouswh0r3 @zukowantshishonourback @ultracrii @chandiewashere @screechingdreameater @when-you-are-just-done @levisbae2 @flyhighinthesky @1astr0id1 @thebluespacecow @mizzfizz @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @phoenix-draws77 @ltadoriyuujl @dreamingoftomorroww @optimisticprime3 @misscaller06 @the-omnipotent-phlowr @king-dynamight @sky-angel101 @rosiejacklyn

could not tag for some reason :(

[jo-com]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ➛ Spoiled

Carlos Sainz x fem!reader

Summary: He just loves to spoil his girl

Genre: Short SMAU

Tw: just some grammatical errors, not proofread and google translated spanish

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ✧˚𝜗𝜚 ─ ───────

Y/username just posted!

Liked by Carlossainz55, Charles_Leclerc, y/bffursername and 1,236,092 others

My very own sugar daddy ig🤷🏻‍♀️

View all comments

Landonorris- that should be me!

Y/username- U snooze, u lose norris😘

Landonorris- whatever hoe🙄

Y/bffursername- Def could treat u better fs😮‍💨

Carlossainz55- uhm i am right here?

Y/bffursername- And???

User 1- She living my dream fr😮‍💨

User 2- IDK WHO I SHOULD BE JEALOUS OF!! I WANT THEM BOTH TBH

User3- Ew

Francisca.cgomes- MINE💋

Y/ursername- YOURS😍

Carlossainz55- Mi vida💗

❤️ Liked by the author

User4- THE WAY SHE ONLY LIKED HIS COMMENT AND NOT REPLIED TO IT

User5- it’s giving bad gf vibes😬

User6- Man stfu!

…

Y/username posted a story

Carlossainz55- ravishing as always my love😍😍

Y/username- I LOVE YOU SO MUCH BABY, thanks for the trip!

Carlossainz55- Anything to make my girl happy💋💋

❤️ liked by y/ursername

…

Carlossainz55 just posted!

📍monaco

Liked by y/username, Landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,478,230 others

She wanted it so i made it happen💋

Tagged: y/username

Y/username- you’re the best!, i love you💋

Carlossainz55- i love you more🎀🥰

Charles_Lecrec- way to flaunt your money ig?

Y/username- Haters gonna hate😝

Charles_Leclerc- THAT WASN’T HATE

User7- find a guy who treats y/n the way carlos does😫

User8- Damn i am single asf

User9- bestie same😢

Maxverstappen1- my eyes, it hurts

Charles_Leclerc- (2)

Oscarpiastri- (3)

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Pierregasly- (5)

Y/username- 😐

User10- HELP THEY’RE SO UNSERIOUS😭

…

Was just bored and decided to make this, hope you guys like it!! Alsoo thanks for all the support guy’s really appreciated it💋💋

[ja3yun]

Melting Point | P.SH | CH.5

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: fluff, angst, confrontation, minhee lovers i am so sorry, no smut this chapter, injury, anything else lmk ch.5 synopsis: life is good for you and sunghoon after you become official, yet, things take a drastic turn very quickly, and you're stuck between love and loyalty. wc: 12k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! so this is where the shit gets real icl. i loved writing this chapter honestly, it holds a place in my heart but tbh, the whole series does. not many warnings or whatever and i don't want to spoil anything here so...enjoy! likes, reblogs, feeback are all welcome as always <3 thank you so much for the support, ilyasm.

As you flip through the pages of your Successful Event Management book, your attention wavers, consumed by thoughts of your boyfriend. Despite your efforts, the words on the pages seem to blur together as your mind dances with images of him. Each time the realisation hits that he's officially yours, you find yourself involuntarily twirling a strand of your hair, unable to contain your giggles or the playful kicks of your feet. It's almost unsettling how deeply he occupies your thoughts, and now that you can call him your man, it's as if the intensity has multiplied tenfold.

Over the past week, Sunghoon has been immersed in training, preparing for Nationals, leaving little time for your usual moments together. But you understand, what with Nationals coming up, he has to be prepared for it. Your understanding doesn’t mean you don’t miss him any less though. This time apart has been the longest you’ve gone without seeing him in the past 4 months and it feels agonisingly long.

It’s just past October and you probably missed him most at Halloween, wishing you could have dressed up with him and gone to Rina’s party together, but he couldn’t cancel the trip to Japan he had. If it were any other schedule, he would have blown it off but everything had already been booked, he just couldn’t get out of it.

You loved your boyfriend's willingness to drop everything for you, even if it was often unnecessary. When you told him you nearly broke your ankle while walking down Rina's stairs in 6 inch heels and a bottle of Pinot in hand, Sunghoon instantly left his training and came to check on you. You told him about the incident so you could both laugh at how stupid you are but he didn’t find anything funny, not until he saw you were okay and giggling with Rina as if nothing had happened. 

That’s one thing that’s slightly changed since becoming official, Sunghoon is way more protective of you. Truth be told, he’s always been protective, he can just showcase it more now.

You adored him in every way a person can be adored. All his flaws, all his perfections, he was all yours.

A ping from your phone pauses your idle daydreaming.

My Hoonie ♡

9:10pm: look outside

It’s ominous but you can't resist the pull to glance out the window. Swirling out of your desk chair, you're met with the unexpected sight of Sunghoon, grinning from ear to ear and waving animatedly, as if beckoning you to join him outside.

Why the fuck is he here? He normally texts you to meet him at the corner of the street so he’s out of sight of your family.

Keeping Sunghoon a secret has been surprisingly easy these days, given how rarely you saw Minhee. You sent your brother a play-by-play of what occurred at the ceremony, along with a few pictures, but he hasn't spoken to you since his brief 'Nice' text response. You tried to initiate a few conversations with him about it, asking if anything was bothering him, but he just replied he was busy with training.

He no longer takes you to train with him, but you can't put all the blame on him; you've been telling him you're too tired for weeks to accompany him; he probably just assumed you'd keep saying the same excuse.

You missed him even though he was only across the hallway.

You quickly put on the jumper Sunghoon had given you, grab your phone, and slip on your shoes as you prepare to make a discreet getaway. With your family still inside the house, you turn the front door handle with full caution, making no sound as you sneak out to meet Sunghoon.

"What are you doing here?" you whisper urgently as you greet him.

Sunghoon brings you in for a kiss while his hand cradles the back of your head, answering your question with his actions rather than his words. He missed you, that’s all there was to it. 

"Are you free?" he murmurs against your lips, his kisses lingering, "I want to take you on a date."

You pull back slightly, taken aback, "A date? Why all of a sudden?"

"I realised I haven't properly treated you to a date," Sunghoon admits, a tinge of guilt evident in his tone. The ill-timing of officially becoming a couple and his intense training schedule for Nationals made it look like he was putting in no effort now that he had you. He never intended to spend less time with you, it’s just what happened. 

You lean back to look at him sceptically, “We’ve been on plenty of dates, Hoonie.”

"Shh, just let me take you out, please?" he playfully feigns annoyance, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Looking back at your home, you consider the options available. On one hand, there's a mountain of tasks awaiting your attention now that the new school year has kicked off. On the other hand, there's the tempting prospect of spending time with your beloved.

Was it even a question?

"Do I need to change?" you ask, casting a critical eye over your attire: his hoodie, some well-worn leggings, and slightly battered shoes—hardly your typical date ensemble. Sunghoon inspects you, pinching your leggings to rub the fabric thoughtfully, “What are you doing?” you ask quizically, raising an eyebrow.

"Just checking the thickness," he replies, turning you around and lifting the hoodie slightly to inspect the material covering your butt. "They'll do," he declares, giving your ass a playful slap to signify the end of his examination. "I have a pair of your other leggings in my car. We could layer," he suggests with a grin.

You don’t have a clue what he’s planning but it can’t be good. 

Sunghoon interlocks his fingers with yours and walks you to his car up the end of the street. The air is growing cooler now that it's early November, so all you can do is sigh with happiness as you take your seat in his warm car. 

With the early November air turning crisp, you sink into the warmth of his car seat, unable to suppress a contented sigh. Over the past few weeks, Sunghoon has allowed you to personalize the interior of his car to your heart's content. 

It started with a simple addition—a plush teddy bear seatbelt cover to cushion the strap that always seemed to bite into you. But it quickly escalated, evolving into a display of your quirks and interests: stickers adorning the glove compartment, a bobblehead of Cinnamoroll dangling from the dashboard with a matching Tuxedosam counterpart on his side, and even a change in the air freshener scent from ocean breeze to peony and cherry blossoms. Each addition is a testament to your bond and the little ways you've woven your lives together.

His life was covered in you, and he has never been happier.

Since the award ceremony, Sunghoon's skating demeanour has noticeably lightened, shedding the weight of perfectionism now that he has your unwavering support echoing in his ears and he knows you mean it because when he glances over to you in the stands, he sees the pride in your eyes. Coach Lee has commented on it a couple of times, saying how his Nationals performance might be his best yet and to keep up the good work. With you by his side, Sunghoon finds joy in skating again, rediscovering the passion that initially drew him to the sport.

"So, where are we headed?" you inquire, fastening your seatbelt and tuning into the radio.

Sunghoon starts the car and pulls away, his hand resting reassuringly on your thigh, "You'll find out soon enough," he replies cryptically. Normally, surprises catch you off guard, leaving you feeling unprepared—an impromptu birthday party is one thing, but this unexpected adventure is an entirely different story.

He chuckles at your attempt to decipher his plans, giving your leg a playful squeeze, "Sweets, I promise I'm not leading you into a cornfield and abandoning you there. You'll enjoy it, I swear."

“A cornfield is so specific, now I don’t trust you at all”  you tease, your tone laced with mock suspicion, though there's a hint of genuine curiosity beneath it all.

As the drive progresses, a sense of familiarity settles in, and when the car pulls up at Belmore, you twist in your seat to face him. "Belmore?" you query, eyebrows raised in surprise. His only response is a knowing nod, a roguish smirk playing on his lips.

"Baby, no offence, but watching you train isn't exactly my idea of a romantic date. And if it ever did count, I think we've been on far too many dates for only being together a month," you point out with a playful yet pointed look.

Sunghoon parks the car and switches off the engine, turning to you with a grin, "So, you don't consider our friends-with-benefits phase as being together?" he counters, raising an eyebrow. "Because technically, we've been together for like four months."

"No, our 'fuck buddy era' definitely doesn't count," you retort, stepping out of the car.

"That's a shame," Sunghoon muses, a playful glint in his eyes. "I had grand plans to whisk you away for our six-month anniversary in January. I guess I'll just have to enjoy Jeju on my own," he shrugs nonchalantly, locking the car before striding towards the main building, gym bag slung over his shoulder.

You quickly fall into step with him, looping your arm in his, a gleam of merriment in your eyes. "Well, I suppose we could round it up to four months," you offer, hoping he was just joking about going himself.

You're not about to let the opportunity for a trip with your man slip through your fingers, even if he's just teasing. You've been dropping hints about wanting to hike Hallasan Mountain and go tangerine picking on Jeju Island so often that he's actually started a 'Jeju Jar' where you contribute money whenever you mention it.

Sunghoon graciously holds the door open for you, and Miss Barbara's cheerful wave as she recognises you only adds to the excitement bubbling within you.

Miss Barbara has been in on your little secret love affair since you made it official, her only bribery she requested to keep it a secret was a bag of Revels on top of her usual Toffee gift. 

"Hi, Miss Barbara," you greet her warmly as you approach the reception desk.

"Hello, Y/N, Sunghoon. How are my favorite forbidden lovers?" she exclaims with a twinkle in her eye, settling back in her chair.

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. "It's not quite as dramatic as you make it out to be, Miss Barbara," he replies with a good-natured smile, though the receptionist waves off his comment. She's fond of weaving your relationship into a romantic narrative, a tale of two star-crossed lovers defying societal norms to be together. It's a bit over the top, but it gives her something to gush over.

"We're doing well. Is anyone in there?" you inquire, grateful for Miss Barbara's discreet support. With her on your side, it's easier to gauge just how obvious your affection for each other can be. While you don't hide your love in everyday life, at the rink, you're more cautious. The last thing you need is for any of the coaches or, heaven forbid, your families to catch you in a moment of intimacy. That could set you both back to square one.

Keeping it a secret until after Nationals wasn’t just for the benefit of Minhee, but also for your own sanity. If one of your mothers found out, that would be it, you would never hear the end of it. 

“Nope, all free. Coach Kim just left and not another soul in sight.” Miss Barbara confirms.

"Thanks, Miss Barbara. This was a spur-of-the-moment thing, so we'll make sure to bring you double sweet treats tomorrow," Sunghoon promises, knowing full well she's eagerly anticipating her goodies.

"Triple and I'll let you in on a little secret," she counters, arms crossed expectantly. Sunghoon nods in agreement, intrigued, "The coaches are planning to bring you and Minhee in tomorrow for peer review and a Nationals run-through, to ensure you're both in top form for the competition in two weeks. It's a new method they want to try to strengthen your connection, especially since you're both going to be on the same Olympic team," she reveals, her tone filled with anticipation.

Your eyes widen in shock as Miss Barbara's words sink in. "Wait, Minhee and the Olympics?" you repeat, the idea sounding both fitting and surreal at the same time.

"Oh yeah, he's been putting in a ton of hours here, especially in the last three weeks. Coach Kim believes he's more than ready," she confirms with a knowing smile, leaning in conspiratorially. "But shh, it's a surprise. The coaches plan to break the news to him when he places in the top three at Nationals."

The news hits you like a wave of emotions. It's beyond perfect - your brother finally achieving his lifelong dream after years of hard work and dedication. A sense of pride and happiness swells within you, threatening to overwhelm your senses.

Suddenly, you get a strange feeling because the more you think about how excited you are for him, you realise Miss Barbara has just said he's here a lot, but you didn't know that. Although you may not have seen him recently, you should be aware that he is spending his time here. You used to know his entire schedule.

“Was my mum here with him?” you inquire, a hint of concern in your voice.

"No, he's usually by himself or with Coach Kim. Didn't he mention it to you? I was wondering why you haven't been with him like usual," Miss Barbara explains, her tone sympathetic.

Sunghoon notices the discontent written across your face, assuming it's because of the impending peer review with Minhee tomorrow morning. Wrapping his arm around your waist, he gently guides you towards the rink. "Thanks for the heads up," he acknowledges gratefully.

As he leads you into the arena, you can feel the excitement draining from your shoulders, leaving you feeling deflated. Sunghoon hates seeing you like this. He wishes he could simply pluck the negative thoughts from your mind and replace them with happiness, but all he can do is offer distraction.

"Sweets, wait here for a minute," he murmurs, planting a kiss atop your head before darting off to the back rooms to fetch some necessary tools for your impromptu date, leaving you to wonder what surprises he has in store.

A few minutes later, Sunghoon returns, his excitement palpable as he practically skips towards you, hands hidden behind his back. The mischievous glint in his eyes sends a shiver of apprehension down your spine, "Sunghoon, what's going on?" you inquire warily.

He stops in front of you, a wide grin spreading across his face. "You aren't going to watch me train," he announces, revealing a pair of pristine white ice skates and a deep blue helmet from behind his back, which he then presents to you, "I'm teaching you how to skate."

The look on your face is one of absolute shock. You have already told him how your mum had tried to get you on the ice when you were little and it wasn’t pretty, you can barely walk in the skates never mind glide on the ice. Did he forget this was the one thing you explicitly said you couldn’t and wouldn’t do?

Noticing your lack of enthusiasm, Sunghoon's arms drop to his sides, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features. "Come on, it'll be fun! I'm a great teacher," he insists, trying to persuade you. Taking the skates from his hand, you inspect them apprehensively, feeling a surge of fear at the sight of the gleaming blades.

"Look, baby," Sunghoon begins, his voice softening as he places a hand on your shoulder. "You've mentioned how you never took to the ice well, but it occurred to me today that maybe that's because your mum had all these dreams about the Kang siblings dominating the figure skating world. That's a lot of pressure for a seven-year-old. But this... this is just for fun. A simple, free lesson from South Korea's greatest skater who promises to never shout or get impatient with you," he reassures, placing a hand over his heart in a solemn pledge.

It’s true you suppose, there would be no need to feel a weight on your shoulders to be as good as Minhee or have your mum telling you how easy it was and that you just weren’t trying hard enough. 

The sparkle in Sunghoon's eyes only adds to your resolve to give this a shot. He wants to share his love for the sport with you, and you can't help but feel touched by his enthusiasm. If he's willing to keep both feet firmly on the ice, then maybe, just maybe, you can brave this adventure.

"Fine, but I'm not jumping under any circumstances," you bargain with a playful glint in your eye. The last thing you want is to end up flat on your back on the ice. If Sunghoon can promise to keep you grounded, then you'll give it a try.

Sunghoon’s face radiates with glee once you accept his date idea, which is good for him because he doesn’t have a backup. He sits you down on the bench and helps you put on the skates, fastening them tightly. He goes over the warnings every skater gets about new skates, and how they need to be broken in so they might nip at the skin. He’s already tried to stretch them out for you by making Wonyoung wear them for a little while when she warmed up. 

Once both of your skates are securely laced up, Sunghoon swiftly puts on his own, his familiarity with them evident in his speed. He's had these skates for a year now, and they've never failed him.

"Put your helmet on, babe," he instructs, handing it to you. You look at it with disdain, but he catches your expression and intervenes, "I get that it's not glamorous, but the last thing I need is for you to smash your head open," he reasons, gently placing the helmet on your head and fastening it securely.

"I don't want to fall in the first place!" you protest.

"I will always catch you, I promise," Sunghoon reassures you, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of your helmet, as if it were your head. He offers a gentle smile, "Plus, the rink just got Zambonied, and they'll be peeved if you dirty up the nice ice with your blood."

"Sunghoon!" you exclaim, a mix of exasperation and affection in your tone.

______

Seventy minutes into the lesson, and you've only stumbled twice. The first time was when you initially stepped onto the ice, resembling one of those cartoon skits where the character can't find their footing and begins flailing everywhere. The second stumble occurred when you attempted to march in place, a simple task that somehow became a challenge on ice. Despite Sunghoon's assurances that you couldn't fall, you seem determined to prove him wrong, even in moments like these.

Nonetheless, you have made progress. Sunghoon has painstakingly taught you how to forward glide and perform a snowplough stop, which seemed impossible given your previous difficulties on the ice. Granted, he's been hovering only centimetres behind you the entire time, waiting to catch you if you fall, but progress is progress.

Now, he's introducing you to forward swizzles, a manoeuvre with a deceptively cute name that you're convinced spells disaster for you. With Sunghoon's reassuring grip on your arm, he explains the technique. "You're just going to do a forward glide and then kind of push your feet outward and then bring them back in a circular motion. Like this," he demonstrates, making it look effortless.

Of course, he makes it look like it’s the easiest thing in the whole world, like using a knife and fork, but he's dealing with a girl who can't even distinguish her left from her right or drive a go-kart without crashing it. This venture into forward swizzles feels like a daunting challenge, but with Sunghoon by your side, you're determined to give it your best shot.

Sunghoon skates to face you, taking both of your hands as you attempt to master the forward swizzles. For the most part, you're actually not too bad at it. But as confidence starts to swell within you, you let go of his hands, only to teeter dangerously on the edge of a fall once more.

True to his word, Sunghoon is there to catch you, his grip firm and reassuring.

Determined to get it right, you take a deep breath, calming your racing heart, and try again. Sunghoon can't help but admire you in this moment. Most people would have thrown in the towel by now, but he knows you're doing this not just for yourself, but for him too. It's a realisation that fills him with a profound sense of affection as he watches you concentrate intently, your tongue sticking out in concentration as you execute a few more forward swizzles with his assistance.

"That's it! My girl is so good at this," he praises, but you shoot him a pointed look. It's not angry; it's more of a silent plea for him to refrain from speaking and distracting you while you're focused. Understanding the cue, Sunghoon promptly stops talking, allowing you to concentrate.

As you cheer and sway joyfully, a surge of euphoria washes over you, you're briefly swept up in the exhilaration of your performance. But the laws of physics are unwavering, and the slippery ice beneath your skates is unforgiving. Without warning you lose your footing and collapse hard onto the ice, your head creating an unnerving thud as it hits the icy surface. Maybe the helmet was a good idea.

"Shit, Y/N!" Sunghoon's voice rings out in panic as he rushes over to you, his expression etched with concern. He kneels beside you, quickly assessing your condition and helping you sit up. Despite the impact, all you can do is laugh. What was once a terrifying prospect - falling on the ice - is now a source of amusement.

"I'm okay," you assure him between fits of laughter, patting the helmet atop your head. "Thank god for this piece of shit helmet, that's all I'm saying." But Sunghoon's expression remains tense, his worry evident, "It's okay, baby, I promise I'm fine. Let's take five, hmm?" you suggest, reaching out to stroke his cheek in a comforting gesture.

Sunghoon nods silently, sitting beside you on the cold ice, both of you ignoring the chill seeping through your clothes. He removes his gloves and places them on your hands, a small but tender gesture that sends a flutter of warmth through your stomach, despite the icy surroundings.

"You're actually pretty good at this, Sweets," Sunghoon compliments, taking your helmet off.

But you brush aside his comment, a question that's been nagging at you for a while now finally bubbling to the surface. "I have a question," you begin, ignoring his compliment. "Why do you call me Sweets? Like, you've called me that since you started skating here."

Sunghoon's face flushes with a deep red blush as he gazes up at the rafters, gathering his thoughts. "I've been calling you that for a lot longer than that," he confesses quietly.

"What do you mean?" you press further, turning your body to face him, curiosity piqued. For all the time you've spent together, you've never questioned the origin of the endearing nickname.

He exhales softly, a nostalgic grin spreading across his face as he begins to reminisce. "Do you remember when you were 14, and you confessed to me with a packet of sweets and a makeshift card?" The memory floods back to you, each detail vivid and clear. "You came up to me at one of the Youth competitions and gave them to me - a packet of Love Hearts, I think.” You want to protest but the more he speaks about it, the more the memory comes back to you.

Back then, you had mustered up all your courage to ask him out after years of secretly admiring him. You knew it was a long shot, considering Sunghoon was the most sought-after skater in the Junior division, but you took the chance anyway. You had even dressed up in your best outfit and attempted makeup—a slick of lip gloss from a teen magazine and a touch of mascara you'd pilfered from your mom's makeup bag.

"You knocked me back!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of offense, "I poured my heart and soul into that card, and you didn't even spare it a glance. I remember now!"

Sunghoon shakes his head defensively, "I did look at it! And I ate the sweets too," he tries to argue back, but the realization only seems to deepen your offense, "Wait, no! I know I said no, but... I had my reasons, okay?"

"Oh yeah, what?" you challenge, shaking your head sassily, eager to hear his explanation.

"I... It doesn't matter, does it? Look who won?" Sunghoon smoothly redirects the conversation back to the present day, "You've got me whipped for you."

You raise an eyebrow, conceding that he does have a point. He is your boyfriend now, albeit five years later than you originally wanted—or eleven years, if you count all the time you spent pining over him as a kid.

"Exactly," you agree, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "If you told fourteen-year-old Y/N Kang that Park Sunghoon would be desperately in love with her now, I think she'd pass out." 

Silence.

Deafening silence.

Sunghoon stares down at his skates, eyes wide and mouth dry. The weight of his confession hangs heavy in the air, catching both of you off guard. He hadn't anticipated the words to spill out so spontaneously, and he's never felt more vulnerable in his life.

Park Sunghoon loves you. He is in love with you.

The arena seemed to vibrate with the weight of his confession, wrapping you both in startled stillness. You can't comprehend it - Sunghoon didn't just say he loved you; he confessed to being desperately in love with you. The enormity of his admission takes your breath away, bringing back memories of your 14-year-old self, who would have had no idea how to deal with such a discovery. Even at 19, the reality of his love has you spinning.

"You love me?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, unable to tear your gaze away from the ice beneath your feet. The words hang in the air, heavy with disbelief and wonder.

Finally, Sunghoon meets your gaze, his own expression a mixture of apprehension and hope. Seeing the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of your lips eases some of the tension in his chest. He had thought his love for you was obvious, but he had never found the courage to say it out loud before.

"I do," he affirms, his voice soft but unwavering.

“How long?” you inquire, stealing a glance at him.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, a playful gleam in his eyes as he picks up the helmet and spins it in his hands. “Ah, I can’t tell you that,” he teases, “If I do, you’ll never get your head back in this.” His laughter lightens the mood, but you're not satisfied with his evasive response.

Snatching the helmet from him, you firmly place it back on your head. “See, now you can tell me. It still fits, and there's even a little room,” you declare, shaking your head to demonstrate how loose it is.

Sunghoon reaches over to fasten the helmet again, his laughter mixing with yours. His fingers linger on the strap, tracing it until he reaches your chin, gently tilting your head to meet his gaze. “It's been a long time,” he admits, his voice soft but earnest. The more animated your expression becomes, the more the doubt that lingered in his mind fades away.

You don't hesitate to seize the moment, pouncing on him and knocking him back onto the ice. Your chest presses against his as you pin him down, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss that steals the air from his lungs. Both of you are grinning like fools, reveling in the warmth and intimacy of the moment.

But there's still one final piece missing from this perfect moment.

“I love you, too, Sunghoon,” you whisper into his mouth, your words laden with sincerity. You hope he can feel the depth of your feelings, knowing that you're not just saying it out of obligation but because you truly mean it.

“It was me, by the way,” he admits sheepishly, catching your curious gaze. You silently prompt him to continue, which he happily does “The sweets my dad gave you all the time? I asked him to give them to you. You looked so miserable one day that I gave up the packet of Haribos my dad would sneak me. After I saw your face light up, I told him to just keep giving them to you instead.”

Your heart feels like it could burst with joy. Why hadn’t he told you this before when you brought it up at the cafe? “Why did you do that?” you inquire, searching for an explanation.

Sunghoon just shrugs, playing it off, kissing you on your nose to distract you from asking any more questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. 

You look at each other and exchange sweet, short kisses on each other's lips. The moment is filled with innocence, and pure love surrounds you. But as the rink's ice starts to seep into your bodies, you both realise that, while the kisses and giggles warm you up, the frostbite on Sunghoon's ass is getting a little too much.

He stands, offering you a hand up, which you gladly accept, trying not to wobble. His lips find yours again within seconds, whispering ‘I love you’ over and over like it's a sacred mantra. Even as he picks you up and spins you around, the words never falter.

Your feet dangle in the air, suspended and untethered, a sensation that terrifies you but this whole situation is. Being in love with someone as deeply as you are with Sunghoon, anyone would find it a little scary - that’s even taking out the impending conversation you’ll need to have with Minhee. You can’t believe someone like Sunghoon is even in love with you a little bit. You counted your blessings every day that he even bothered to spend time with you or ask you to be his girlfriend, this was just surreal.

“We should go, yeah? Especially if I have to show up your brother tomorrow,” he suggests, setting you down gently.

“Sunghoon, be nice to him tomorrow, yeah? Don’t provoke him. This is important for him,” you plead with him, your voice laced with concern. All you want is for Minhee to come out of tomorrow's session feeling confident and ready. If your boyfriend starts to poke fun at him, it'll only serve to undermine Minhee's focus and now that he has a chance to go to the Olympics, he needs to feel confident, not taunted.

Sunghoon follows you as you carefully skate off the rink, back to the security of the grated mats outside. “I’m going to give him the critique he needs, brutal or not,” he says, his tone tinged with frustration. Sitting on the bench, he begins to remove his skates. He knows you don’t mean it to sound this way, but your phrasing made it seem like tomorrow wasn’t as significant for him. A whole run-through of his routine in front of everyone to determine if he's ready for Nationals? That's just as crucial for him as it is for your brother.

Ridding yourself of the devil skates you massage your feet. You have a greater respect for anyone that has to wear them for more than an hour, “And that’s fine, but don’t be a dick about it. This could be our chance to sway his opinion of you and make telling him about us easier.”

“Well, are you going to tell him the same thing? Because he isn’t exactly friendly towards me either,” Sunghoon counters. He can't argue with your logic; building a bridge with your brother would make things easier for you both. However, he isn’t willing to let Minhee berate him without standing up for himself.

You sigh, feeling deflated by the conversation already, wondering why you even brought it up. “Sunghoon, please just be the bigger man here, for me. Can you do that?” you ask, your voice pleading.

Putting his blade guards back on with a forceful gesture, he lets out an exasperated groan. “No. I will do anything for you, Sweets, but I draw the line at letting him walk over me,” he asserts firmly.

“I’m not asking you to do that,” you insist, gently pulling his face to meet yours. “If he’s rude to you, you can defend yourself, but just don’t take it too far or say anything unnecessary, especially about his skating.” The tone in your voice, combined with your touch, begins to soften the tension in his body. He grudges how much of an effect on him, “Please? Because you love me?”

He sticks his tongue into the side of his mouth and swipes it along his inner lip, “Wow, are we playing that card now?” You nod, and a satisfied smile sits smugly on your face. It was a low blow, you know that, but when push comes to shove. Inhaling deeply he agrees reluctantly, “Fine, I will be nice to him. But it’s in no way is it for his benefit, I’m doing it for us.”

You’ll take it. It’s a start and every reconciliation has to start somewhere, “Thank you, baby.” You press a smooch to his cheek and stand up, locating your shoes and putting them on.

Glancing at your phone, you notice it's past 11pm and there are a couple of messages from your mom. She's letting you know that you can't stay at Rina's tonight because Coach has requested Minhee's presence tomorrow morning, and she wants you to be there too. And you want to be there, because right now you feel a little like a shit sibling missing out on his training when it used to be the one activity you looked forward to together. 

And he’s been all alone the whole time. What was going on with your mum these days? She would rather die than miss a Minhee schedule, even if it were just practice. 

Sunghoon hugs you from behind, reading your messages, “Don’t tell me the witch is cock blocking me?” 

That’s the other thing about him being your boyfriend, you’ve started to open up to him a lot more about your relationship with your mum and how thin the bond is. You told him about her moving you out of your old room to make way for Minhee’s trophies, how she made you skip Rina’s birthday to attend a dinner with a potential sponsor when you didn’t even have to be there, and so many other unfortunate occasions.

Sunghoon was seething each time you spoke about her because you’re her daughter, you’re meant to be the joy of her life and it sounds like you’re just an inconvenience. Truthfully, you hadn’t paid much mind to it before you said all your woes with her out loud, but Sunghoon doesn’t see it as casually as you do. 

“Guess tomorrow morning is officially happening then,” You say, messaging back a quick ‘okay’ to your mum, “I’m sorry, Hoonie, I can’t come back to yours,” You rest the back of your head on his shoulder as his grip gets tighter around you.

“Sweets, it’s okay. I just wish I got to fuck you good after I proclaimed my undying love for you finally,” he kisses down your neck, “Guess I’ll just need to take you home after I wipe the floor clean of your brother.” 

Angrily, you turn around, “Any more of that and you’ll not only not be able to fuck me, you’ll also be single.” You’re not messing about and Sunghoon knows it.

“Sorry,” He winces, rubbing your arms, “Force of habit. I promise tomorrow I will be on my absolute best behaviour!” he kisses you but you don’t kiss him back, still trying to keep your annoyed demeanour. “Aw, c’mon, baby, don’t be like that! I promise skaters honour and all that.”

“You better be, Hoonie,” you warn him, finally giving in and kissing him back once, just to let him think he can’t get away with it that easily, even if he can. 

As you walk out of the arena, he follows you, stooping down to whisper, "You're kinda sexy when you're mad like that." You know he's only half-joking, so you don't play into it because if you do, he'll make you angry more often since he knows you aren't able to stay angry. Instead, you say your goodnights to Miss Barbara and make your way to his car.

He’s a piece of work, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. You love him exactly how he is.

_____________________

Applying the last finishing touches of your makeup, you check yourself out. Today was a big day, so yes it’s a little extreme to get dolled up at 5am on a Wednesday, but you’re seeing Minhee and Sunghoon skate their Nationals routines in full today, so what’s not to be excited about?

If anyone had told you that today you would feel no nervousness about the both of them being so close to one another, you would have told them to pull the next joke out of their ass. There was no way that could happen but it is and Sunghoon promised to try and be civil with your brother. So now all your worries are on them and their skates. 

You’ve seen Sunghoon’s routine countless times, so you know what to expect, but Minhee was a whole different story. It still irks your heart that you haven’t seen your brother train, you feel awful, truly. You just need to cheer for him extra loud today.

You grab your tote bag, which has some extra panties since you're spending the night with your sweetheart, and head out of your room. His roommates have joked that you’re moving in since you’ve left so much stuff at his place including a toothbrush, clothes, shampoo and conditioner, and even a spare book to read if you wake up before him in the morning. Not like you meant to, just over time it happened.

As you reach the bottom of the stairs, you hear Minhee and your mum whispering about something, but it’s hard to make out the conversation. Carefully tiptoeing towards the kitchen, you hold your breath, trying not to make a noise. They don’t normally whisper, especially not at this hour, so whatever they're discussing must be important.

“I can handle it, Mum, I told you,” Minhee's voice is heavy with sadness. Has he always sounded this despondent, or are you just overthinking?

“Good. I've invested too much for you to Cave now. When we get there, you know what you need to do, right?” What is Minhee supposed to do? Cave doing what? What does he have to do? Skate?

There are so many questions that need answers just by this snippet of conversation. You press your back to the wall of the hallway to make sure you stay hidden, hoping for any sort of clarity.

“Mum, I said I got it.” he snaps back and leaves it there, packing his bag, “Did you let Y/N know about today?”

“About the run-through? Yes, I told her.” your mum pours herself a coffee into her reusable cup.

Minhee rubs his eyes, clearly exhausted. Now that you’re getting a good glimpse of him after a few weeks, he looks a lot thinner and the circles under his eyes are a deeper shade than normal, “I told you not to tell her, she doesn’t need to be a part of this,” he zips his bag and slings it over his shoulder.

Does he not want me to be there for his skates anymore? Is that why he hasn’t invited me?

You can’t make head or tail of the conversation or what they mean, but the last thing you want is for Minhee to shut you out. 

“Oh, Y/N there you are,” your mum spots you, foiling your plan to eavesdrop.

At the sound of your name, Minhee tenses, pausing in his tracks for a beat. He was acting so strange, it made you hurt for him. Your brother was so lively and now he looks like a shell of himself. 

Putting on a cheerful facade to conceal your concern, you approach Minhee and casually swipe half of the banana from his hand, as you would normally do. If he were his usual self, Minhee would protest loudly, demanding you to get your own fruit. But instead, he simply hands you the rest without a word.

“Both of you hurry up, we need to go,” your mum whooshes past you both and heads for the front door, leaving you and Minhee on your own.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask, quiet as a kitten. 

Minhee nods his head once and brushes by you, not even glancing at you. The relationship you have with him is now feeling like you’re strangers. You don’t know what spurred this change on but you have a high suspicion it’s because of you.

Obviously, you don’t want it to be, but you haven’t really spent time with him recently or supported him the way you should have. He probably feels neglected, something you never want him to feel.

Taking hold of his wrist you stop him before he exits for the car, “Mini, I’m sorry for not being at your training sessions. Miss Barbara said that you’ve been going to the rink a lot, I should have made it to at least one of those.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I don’t need you there.” 

That hurt. A lot. 

He finally glances down at you and sees your eyes flash with hurt, “I’ve been going spontaneously, you’ve been busy with school and…Rina. Our schedules don’t fit anymore,”  he plays it off but you’re his sister and you know he’s hiding something deeper in his nonchalant words.

Pulling his wrist from your grip, Minhee goes to the car, leaving you a lot more concerned for him than before.

As your mum pulls up to Belmore you see Sunghoon’s car already here. He must be getting in the practice he missed last night because of your date. You would feel guilty about it if it wasn’t his idea.

When the engine stops, there is a weird tension in the air as everyone has gone into covert mode. You want to break the silence but you can’t fathom what to say right now. 

"Minhee, I'm feeling good about today, do well," your mother says. Despite her words of positivity, her expression portrays a different mindset, as if she is just saying what she knows she should.

Placing your hand on his shoulder, you grin at him, "Do your best, Mini, that's all anyone can ask," He smiles back at you, acknowledging your words. What's strange is that he takes your hand and squeezes it, his eyes fixed on yours. Sibling communication is turned on; you just can't understand what he's saying to you.

Walking into the arena is a completely different vibe from last night, no peace to be found. The coaches are happily chatting about their prodigies; it’s nice to see them getting along considering they were also pushed together through this blending of rinks. You wished the same for Minhee and Sunghoon.

Speaking of Sunghoon, he isn’t anywhere to be seen, he’s not on the ice like you thought he would be. 

“Minhee, go get changed, me and your sister will be over there,” your mum points to the same two seats you’ve both occupied for over a decade, “Don’t fuck it up, I’m serious.”

How can she be so harsh? 

Minhee simply waves you both off, shoulders slumped. While you watch him retreat to the changing room, you scowl at your mum, a toxic taste in your mouth at how rude she is being. At the end of the day, Minhee was always her favourite child, and now she can’t even be bothered with him.

Deciding he can’t go out with those being the last words he hears, you excuse yourself and walk in the same direction. You say your hellos to the usual staff as you go into the back hallway, scouting the place for your brother.

Without warning, you’re being pulled back and pinned to the wall. You almost scream until you feel those perfect lips that belong to your boyfriend, smushed against yours. 

Perplexed by his actions, you look around to see if anyone saw you. Fortunately, you were hidden enough, “Hoonie! What are you doing?” 

“I needed a good luck kiss, that’s all,” he smirks, “What do you think?” he draws back and shows you the outfit he was planning to wear at Nationals and your natural reaction is to gasp.

The royal blue silk shirt was basic, but you knew it would spring to life once he got on the ice, and his black slim trousers had crystals embroidered down the side as well as all around the bottom, the gems a mix of white and three shades of blue. He really fits the description of Ice Prince.

Spinning around on his tippy toes, he awaits your response. He felt good in it like he was one hundred percent ready.

“You look like you belong in a museum,” Gawking at him, you cover your mouth, you haven’t seen him look so handsome in any skating costume before, “Why are you wearing it just now?” 

He shrugs, “Coach thought it would be good to see how it holds up since I went with a new designer,” he smiles, rubbing up and down his torso. The material feels so good, he’s grown a habit of touching it whenever he can, “I’ll need to thank Karina when I’m done.”

“Huh? Why?” 

“You’re looking at a Yu Jimin original, I’ve been told she’s going to be famous.” Sunghoon grins at your surprised face.

Your best friend made this outfit? Her talents never failed to amaze you but she had never let anyone wear the clothes she made, not even you unless she was sampling. How on earth did he pull this off? 

Inspecting the costume more carefully, you see Rina’s signature stitching aka the first one she learnt and stuck with because she can ‘always make it work’ and to be fair, she does. It really was hers and your boyfriend was wearing it. 

But she would never do it out of the kindness of her own heart, “How much did she charge?” you ask worried, Rina could easily have bumped up the price since it was Sunghoon, milking him of the money she knew he had.

“Not a penny,” He stands proudly, but you know him, and you know your best friend, so you give him a dubious look, “Well, it didn’t cost money, I gave her a matching Tiffany ring and bracelet set.” He throws the sentence out as if the jewellery didn’t cost 4 times the wages you got this month.

“Hoonie, What the fuck?” 

"Nah, I got these for free a while back. I was planning to gift you them for your birthday." Wearing a playful smile, you tilt your head back as you absorb the unexpected information of your given-away gifts. Sunghoon instantly becomes aware of what he's just confessed. "Then I realised you're worth more than free jewellery and I swear when I gave her them, it was in the most 'I don't love you, this is just to get on Y/N's good side by winning you over' kinda way." 

Sunghoon bats his long eyelashes after he stumbles over his words, nervous you might get the wrong idea. You didn’t though, you know he’s only got eyes for you. 

It does make you laugh and think about how lucky you are, “Thank you for trying to get along with her,” you leave out the jib about it being your supposed gift because you can see how hard he is trying. 

Sunghoon wants to be a part of your life, that much is evident, and he’ll do anything he can to integrate himself peacefully, cautious to not disrupt too much. Rina was an easy win because as soon as she saw the trademark Tiffany Blue boxes she was on his side. Plus, the chance to have her first-ever design worn on a televised competition wasn’t really an opportunity she could pass up.

“I just need to win over Minhee now,” he says, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and drawing you closer. But as you remain unresponsive, lost in thought, his concern grows. "Sweets? What's wrong?"

Your mind is consumed by the events of the morning with Minhee. It gnaws at you - his lack of confidence and timid nature seems perplexing, especially given Miss Barbara's assurance that he's practically a shoo-in for the Olympic team. If there ever was a time for Minhee to exude self-assurance, it's now.

Sunghoon shakes you a little, bringing you back, “Sorry, baby, I need to see Minhee.”

“Is everything okay?” Concern is painted on his face but you can’t let him worry over something that doesn’t involve him.

“It’s fine. Good luck out there,” you pull him for an unintentionally long kiss. He melts against you, using his arms to bring you into him, hoping his touch will give you some sort of comfort. Even if you don’t tell him right now, he knows when you’re ready, you’ll let him in on what has you this way.

Stepping out of the hiding spot, you briskly walk to the changing room to find your brother. You don’t want to cast a shadow over his day, not when this performance meant so much for him, but the anxiety and concerns embedded in your body need to be aired. You need to know what’s going on.

As you approach the room, Minhee is just walking out, head hung low. 

He quickly spots you and his eyes stretch wide, “What are you doing here?” he looks around urgently before looking back at you. 

“I just wanted to talk to you. Mum was way out of line back there and I needed you to know I’m proud of you, no matter what happens. You’ve worked so hard and I know how much this skate means considering it’s basically your ticket to the Olympics, and that’s always-”

Minhee interrupts you, “Wait, pause, what do you mean Olympics?” 

Shit. You had to tell him now, you couldn’t backtrack such a monumental piece of information.

“Miss Barbara told me that Coach Kim said you’re ready for it, and if you pass this and make it to Nationals, you’ll be offered a place on the South Korean Olympic team.” You blurt it all out at once and the smile on Minhee’s face grows bigger and bigger with each word.

“You’re not fucking with me, are you?” he asks, his tone in disbelief.

Shaking your head, you mirror his vibrant smile, “No, you’re a shoo-in!” 

Suddenly, Minhee picks you up and squeezes you tight, laughing lightly. You shouldn’t have let it slip but seeing the sadness wash away from him was worth it, even if it ruined the surprise. Coach Kim is so confident in his abilities, and so are you, you just needed Minhee to believe it too.

He puts you down, running his hand through his hair, still processing the good news. Minhee whispers to himself how he can’t believe it. You’ve watched him work tirelessly for this since you were kids, and you also saw how disappointed he was when he missed out on the Youth Olympics, so seeing him now at 20 practically being offered a place on the team is a dream come true for both of you. All you’ve ever wanted was for him to succeed.

Looking behind you, Minhee’s face drops again. As you look to see what caused the sudden change, you see Sunghoon walking towards you both. For the first time in 4 months, you didn’t want to see him right now; Minhee was finally in better spirits and you can’t have Sunghoon ruining it now. But he promised to behave, to take the high road, so you trust him to do just that.

Sunghoon stands beside you, his hand goes to sit on your lower back instinctively but he catches himself, pointing to the rink instead, “Coaches asked if you’re good to go or if you need a warm-up?”

You can’t lie, you’re proud of Sunghoon for not making a snide remark about how Minhee would need the warm-up. It’s tiny, but it’s progress.

Glaring into his eyes, Minhee doesn’t say anything, biting his lips into a thin line and nodding in acknowledgement. 

What is up with him today? You know why Sunghoon is being a bit nicer, but where is Minhee’s sarcastic quip?

“Can I get in there?” Sunghoon gestures to the changing room, “Left my skates,” You move to the side but Minhee doesn’t budge, “Are you seriously going to make me walk around you?” Sunghoon scoffs.

Again, Minhee doesn’t move but you know it’s not in a defiant way, his face isn’t giving you the normal ‘I hate Sunghoon’ look, it’s giving you more of a concern concealed by a deadpan face kind of vibe. Strange. 

Sunghoon isn’t as attuned to your brother's emotions, so he takes offence to Minhee’s resistance to move and pushes him out of the way, “You’re pathetic, Kang.”

You bite your tongue down hard, trying to suppress the anger bubbling inside you. Although Sunghoon warned you already that if Minhee provoked him, he would snap back but he didn’t have to call him pathetic. 

Minhee clenches his jaw and fists, trying to calm himself down. You take the opportunity to rub his arms, soothing him a little, “Don’t listen to him, Mini. Go out there and do your best, yeah? Remember what I told you.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m basically going to the Olympics.”

“No,” you smile softly at him, “I’m proud of you, for everything you’ve achieved and everything you will,” Stepping to stand beside him, you push him towards the rink. The words might not mean anything to him, but you say every syllable with as much sincerity as you can. 

He takes off his blade protectors and skates onto the rink, doing a few laps to warm up. Seeing him glide across the ice, practising his jumps with ease. Miss Barbara was right, he has improved a lot and that’s saying something considering he was already one of the best skaters.

Sunghoon walks up beside you, his skates in one hand as the other takes yours, giving it a quick squeeze before he lets go, joining his coach on the other side. It was a quick moment no one would be able to see but Sunghoon saw the opportunity to touch you for luck just one last time before he had to pretend you meant nothing to him. The sooner you both tell Minhee, the better.

Going back to your seat next to your mother, she doesn’t spare you a look before asking where you went but you don’t bother answering her, choosing to focus your energy on Minhee. He takes his spot in the centre and shifts into his starting pose. He looked so elegant on the ice, even in his sports athleisure. You wonder how much begging and bribery it would take for Rina to make him a costume for his Olympic performance.

Coach Kim gives him a supportive thumbs-up as the music begins. From the bleachers, you see Minhee let out a nervous breath before he begins. His eyes scoot to you and your mum for a second and you use the time to smile and wave enthusiastically which seems to settle him.

As he starts his routine, you can see how his movements have been perfectly choreographed, his frame is poised and he showcases a seamless fusion of strength and elegance. You look to Sunghoon for a moment, who seems to echo your awed amazement. Minhee wove through his spins and intricate footwork with ease. It was like he was a painter and the ice was his canvas, painting the most delicate yet structured portrait. He was sensational.

Minhee looks to your mum mid-skate for approval but you already know she isn’t showing him what he needs, so he shifts to you, eyes never leaving yours as he hits his quadruple axel. The one move he’s been dying to get into his routine, the one move that burdened him forever because he could never land it, now he just achieved it with some ease.

Your hands are clasped to your chest, your face radiating a beam of joy and pride. You can’t believe he did what everyone told him was impossible for him to achieve. The expression on your face is just as elated as his.

He missed having you here to cheer him on, you can tell by the smile of appreciation on his face.

He finishes up his routine with a Biellmann Spin and ends the way he started as if he could continuously loop his performance - it’s been his signature for years.  The arena is silent as all eyes are on your brother as he relaxes from his pose and hunches over for breath. No one can quite believe the magic they just saw.

Surprisingly, Sunghoon is the first one to clap, a smirk on his face. He just witnessed a skate that might actually throw him off the top spot for Nationals, he had to respect it. You join in, standing up to jump and cheer his name. 

On cloud 9, Minhee skates over to Coach Kim who is eagerly awaiting to praise him, “Kid, you were incredible! Seriously, by far your best skate to date,” he roughly pats the skaters back and brings him in for a hug, “My kid is going to Nationals!” The moment was so sweet you naturally pouted before running down to meet him.

“Mini! Oh my god!” your voice pulls him away from his coach, the hug from him being replaced by you, “You did so good, I almost cried! Look at my eyes, I’m not lying,” you point to your face and true to your word, there are tears in the ducts of your eyes. 

Minhee ruffles your hair, “Thanks, Bubs,” he shines at the adoration he’s being soaked in, pure happiness circulating his body.

“You did well, Kang. I have nothing to fault.” Sunghoon’s voice booms behind you, his body pressing against yours as he congratulates Minhee, “Seriously, you’ve always skated well but it’s nice to see you finally bringing me some competition.”

Your brother pulls you from Sunghoon and tucks you into his side. It’s ironic how he’s protecting you from your own boyfriend. Minhee is on such a high, not even Sunghoon could ruin it for him but that doesn’t mean he has to say anything to him. He tightens the hold on your shoulder and walks you past Sunghoon. 

As he puts his guards back on, you take the chance to look at Sunghoon, mouthing him a ‘good luck’ and smile which he happily returns with a wink. He didn’t need luck, he was a pro, but now he does have to step up his game because if he doesn’t get the same reaction from the onlookers, his mum won’t let him leave the rink until he does.

Taking your seat, Minhee gives your mum a look to which she only nods. Was that all he was going to get from her? You seriously needed to find out what had turned them so cold to one another. But that’s future you’s problem, right now, you focus on Sunghoon while he puts on his skates.

He circles the ice, stretching his legs and arms, yet his expression is one of unknowingness. While he chips his skates into the surface a few times, he becomes uneasy. 

Regardless of how he feels, Sunghoon takes his starting stance, arms in the air and one leg spread out behind him.

Beginning his routine, the blare of Ocean Eyes plays through the speakers. The song, the routine, the outfit, everything was cohesive. Sunghoon has spent months preparing his Nationals skate, meticulously changing and adapting every detail to make sure it was perfect. You’ve watched him over the weeks and it’s nothing like how it is right now.

But not in the breathtaking way Minhee was, there was something wrong.

Sunghoon’s eyebrows furrow and as it’s coming up to his quad jumps, he skips them. Now you can confirm something is drastically wrong, nevertheless, he continues on, preparing for his flying camel spin. Whatever is going on, he’s doing his best to brush it off.

“What is wrong with him?” you whisper to yourself but your mother overhears it, smirking at you. 

“He’s thrown off by your brother, I imagine,” she says so casually but as you look at her, there’s a glint in her eye.

Just as Sunghoon completes the spin with a slight wobble, Coach Lee encourages him to keep going despite the apparent struggle. Determined, Sunghoon presses on, transitioning into a forward glide as he prepares for the upcoming triple loop. It's in that moment that everything seems to crumble beneath you.

As Sunghoon launches into his jump from his back foot, smoothly completing the rotations in mid-air, however, the performance takes a sudden turn upon landing – a moment of unease grips everyone watching, you included, as his ankle unexpectedly snaps at a 90-degree angle. The consequence is immediate and stark, leading to his descent to the ground. The hushed gasps of the onlookers echo at the sight of his body skimming across the ice. In the aftermath, Sunghoon holds his injured ankle, his face contorted in pain as he tries to move it.

He's badly hurt, unable to move from his spot on the ice, and the circumstances turn what should have been a flawless routine into an unexpected nightmare.

"Hoonie!" you yell, your heart pounding as you rush to the edge of the rink to assess the situation. Sunghoon is writhing in pain, tears pooling in his eyes, and you notice the blade of his skate has come off his boot - It must have come off when he landed. 

You need to be next to him, but before you can check on your lover, Minhee is quick on your heels, dragging you back. "Let me go," you're no longer concerned about how it will look if you go to check on Sunghoon; all you can think about is if he's okay. 

Minhee doesn’t listen, his grip tightening as he pulls you away. You struggle against him, feeling utterly helpless as you watch the commotion around Sunghoon unfold. Coach Kim, Mrs. Park, and others gather around him, their urgent actions heightening your anxiety. But Minhee is determined to remove you from the scene, forcefully guiding you through the doors and out of the arena.

Once in the car park, he releases you with a frustrated exclamation, his agitation evident in his gestures as he runs his hands through his hair. His eyes betray a storm of emotions, leaving you unsettled and desperate for answers.

“Minhee, what’s happening? We have to go back!” you insist, your voice tinged with desperation.

“We can’t, okay? Let’s just go home,” he responds, his tone strained, his features drawn with tension.

Sensing something amiss, you step closer to him, your heart racing with concern. “Minhee, please, tell me what’s going on. None of this makes sense,” you implore, your hands reaching out to him.

“It’s nothing, alright!” he snaps, his words too forceful to be convincing. “His skate broke, that’s all. I didn’t do anything,” he adds, his denial ringing hollow.

The straightforward solution would be for him to share what's going on, but the way he's shutting down makes it clear that direct communication is off the table. Your mind races back to the kitchen, recalling your mom's directive to Minhee to 'get it done.' Then, at the rink, she warned him not to fuck up. It dawns on you that this is more than just about the routine; something else has transpired. Yet, the connection between Minhee and a botched landing seems implausible. Skaters experience falls regularly; it's just a part of the sport. 

Unless he psyched him out but you were with each of them at different times and the only time they interacted was before Sunghoon went to get his skates from the changing room. Minhee acted super strange when Sunghoon asked to pass him like he was nervous about letting him in- 

Sunghoon’s skate…No, surely not. 

You take a cautious step back, your expression one of bewilderment. What you’re thinking couldn’t possibly have happened, your brother wouldn’t stoop so low, “Mini? You didn’t…”

"You're a liar." Minhee abruptly deters the conversation, leaving you much more puzzled than before. Tilting your head, you give him a sceptical look, but he only offers you a harsh stare, “Oh Mini, I would never do that, wasn’t that what you told me? You said that, didn’t you?” 

Okay, you've officially reached the top of your perplexity. What is he on about? “I don’t know what you mean?” you utter, awaiting any form of clarity. 

A visual cloud storms over his head, symbolic of his tone as he spits, “You’re dating Park fucking Sunghoon.”

How did he find out?

The weight of Minhee's accusation hangs in the air as you come to terms with the fact that your hidden relationship with his rival is now openly known. Your mind races, wondering who could have told him. To be honest, it could have been anyone at that point; you weren't being very secretive, merely keeping it low-key around those who knew Minhee. That was your first mistake, clearly.

The forced laugh that leaves his mouth is venomous, “You really ought to be more careful with your lies, Sis.” Retrieving his phone from his trouser pocket, he flicks through it until he finds something. As if viewing it for the first time, he gets angry again, shoving the device in your face, “You sent me it with the others.”

You’re faced with a picture, and not just any picture, the one of Sunghoon kissing your cheek at the award ceremony. The frozen moment captured in time reveals more than words ever could. Your heart sinks as the reality of your indiscretion stares back at you from the screen. The once-precious memory now serves as evidence. The tension in the air increases as you deal with the impact of your secret finally coming to light.

How could you be so stupid? You were so careful around him, always triple-checking everything and now it’s all up in flames.

“Mini-”

“Just tell me one thing, Y/N. Tell me you haven’t been seeing him since that night you got out of his car? That this started way after and you haven’t been with him for like 4 months?” his resolve has turned from one of anger to despair, desperate for you to tell him his suspicions are wrong.

But deception wasn't an option; lying to him now would only add more layers to an already tangled web. It was too complicated to tell him how you stayed away for a week, and how Sunghoon came to your rescue the night of Yeonjun’s party, and it was certainly not the right time to tell him how Sunghoon brought you back to life with his kisses and how he makes you feel like the most important person in the world. Revealing the true depth of your connection with Sunghoon would undoubtedly trigger Minhee, unleashing a storm far beyond fits of anger, something he couldn’t come back from.

The silence gave Minhee his answer, his face falling from anger to disappointment, “I fucking knew it.”

This is what you wanted to avoid the whole time, the reason you kept Sunghoon a secret in the first place. 

If he knew, he would do something rash like…

“Did you mess with Sunghoon’s skate? Did you do this because I’ve been seeing him?” It all starts to click into place but Minhee quickly shuts you down.

“It wasn’t that Y/N.” He dismisses.

“So it was you? You caused that? Minhee what the fuck?!” you shriek at his twisted confession. 

The revelation sends a shiver down your spine as your emotions mix with disbelief and confusion. This wasn’t the brother you knew, the one you grew up with and held so dear to you. 

The air thickens with unspoken words as Minhee rattles his brain for an explanation. His eyes portray the evident guilt he feels, a turbulent storm in the depths of his gaze. Any anger now dissipates with the wind as it blows cold on his face. His voice, when he finally speaks, carries the weight of regret, “Look, Y/N, it’s complicated; you have no idea what’s going on.”

“Then help me understand because right now it seems like you just tried to hurt Sunghoon because he's my boyfriend." The chill in your words reflects the icy breeze. The atmosphere is thick with tension, like a heavy curtain waiting to be dragged back to reveal the truth behind Minhee's aberrant actions.

Minhee’s anger washes his body again, muttering the word ‘boyfriend’ in disbelief before he speaks up, “The less you know the better, okay? Stay out of it.” With a swift turn, he attempts to walk away, yet his mind is unwilling to let the matter of you and Sunghoon rest. "Y’know, when you sent that picture, I was so angry I could have killed him, but as the weeks passed I was just so fucking disappointed you didn’t have the balls to tell me." 

This whole situation is so fucked up and there is nothing you can do to place everything in a perfect timeline that will help you understand his actions because he’s keeping something detrimental from you. If it wasn’t because Sunghoon and you are together, then what could it possibly be? If it was because he wanted to be at Nationals, it wasn’t Sunghoon standing in his way so it couldn’t be that. 

Before you can dwell on the situation further, your mum strides over, balancing both your belongings. "Will you two stop acting like children and fighting? You're not 5 anymore." She thrusts your jacket and bag into your arms and does the same with Minhee. "Get in the car."

“Mum, is he okay?” It’s a hopeful, albeit hesitant, question directed at your Park-hating mother. You know it's a long shot, but you chance it.

"He'll live. I doubt he'll make it to Nationals, though." She smirks, her reply tinged with dark humour that adds an unexpected dimension of tension. The revelation regarding Sunghoon's injury, delivered with that sneering twist, leaves you with a mix of anxiety for your boyfriend. 

She had something to do with this, that’s obvious. You just had to find out how and why.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

[catiuskaa]

new task: valentine’s day.

PAIRING! seungmin x reader ; enemies/rivals2lovers!

SUMMARY: boring classes, boring classmates, boring assignments…to seungmin, everyone is boring even if he’s used to pretend otherwise, but you seem to get on his nerves. you, your stupid poem, and his stupid letter.

WC: 10.6k (OH MY FUCKING GOD)

CW: it’s like fluffy comfort because I say so, kim seungmin supremacy (YES), use of spanglish (just on the text messages bc yes, it’s not relevant to the plot, dw), use of text format for plot convenience (and a whole bunch of emojis and colors), the reader is stupidly short (which i know all about), use of cliché valentine and enemies2lovers tropes (BECAUSE THEY ARE FUN AND THEY WORK), academic rivals (we love to see it), bad student reader x good student seungmin (like bad/mean girl x good boy ish), mentions of the unability to deal with complicated feelings, mentions of masking feelings, slight hint of bullying?, mentions of being followed, use of (pet)names because I don’t like using ‘y/n’: little one, shortie, shortcake, smallable, pretty, (yes i’m just petty like that, sue me), hyunjin as a walking therapist, and the ending is almost a reference to a show i'm obsessed with (not gonna say it so i don't spoil it for you guys hehehe)

SPECIAL THANKS! To my lovely pookies @lyramundana and @tonks-21 for ideas and support, plus also, most of the classmate’s names are thanks to gorgeous gourgeous @stayconnecteed and her spanishverse series bc i’m so invested! Go check all of their blogs out! 100% recommend. son mis chicas españolitas, hehe<3

A/N: alone on valentine’s day? same for me, pookie! but dontchu worry, mister kim seungmin is here to help us out<3 (and if not, we can always help each other😚🫶)

[☆★🌷★☆]

{PROLOGUE: THE GROUPCHAT}

At first, you didn’t really know him.

To think for a second that there was a time where you didn’t know who he was made you sigh. Oh, how you wish you had never, ever encountered him.

…Kim Seungmin.

Some may say that ‘rivals’ or ‘enemies’ is a term that could seem too intense regarding a simple statement: that you two didn’t get along.

But no. Because those kind of words were exactly how you’d define your relationship.

And it had all started the first day of your last year before graduating. When you made the class groupchat.

> you created ‘Year 13-A 😼😼’

> you added ‘lucas🤺’ ‘atenea🛐’ ‘noa🫶’ and 16 more.

> you: guys help, am I missing people?

> you: @ atenea🛐 told me to create this group for homework n stuff but idk if I have everyone’s numbers 😵‍💫😵‍💫

< noa🫶: tía you’re missing two people no?

< lara💋: hala, new people?? 👀

< noa🫶: pero- they’re literally from the other group, girl

< abril🌻: you even know them lara

< abril🌻: se te va la pinza JAJSJA

< miguel📚: sí, there should be 22 people (creo)

> you: oh right, Lix told me!

> you: yeah i’ll add them now, brb 🏃‍♀️

Well.

Rookie mistake.

> you added ‘kim seungmin™️’, ‘hyunjin🎨’

> you: omg i even added everyone

< lucas🤺: omg omg

< kim seungmin™️: omg omg so crazyy

You rolled your eyes, smiling slightly as you texted. But that was just because you hadn’t talked to him before.

Now was a different story, of course. You wouldn’t smile, not for Kim Seungmin.

> you: @ kim seungmin™️ what was crazy is how difficult it was finding someone who had your phone number, lol

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: fr fr omg

< lucas🤺: que es omg

< lucas🤺: ‘oh me gustas’ ? omg?

< lara💋: you’re such an idiot, asshole

< lucas🤺: ohhh you love me so bad 😌😌😌

< isabel🌸: she knows better lol

< lucas🤺: dude, you’re my sister

< lucas🤺: shouldn’t you be backing me?

< isabel🌸: there’s a fee for that, dude.

You giggled at the stupid teasing, used to your mates’ shenanigans that never ceased to make you laugh.

But then, he replied.

< kim seungmin™️: @ you the only difficult thing here is you reaching graduation

…

Your smile faded.

You read that once more. Then again. And another time.

You chuckled dryly.

What was this guy on about?

> you: ah? wdym?

You remember thinking that maybe he was joking. That maybe he was someone who talked to people with a lot of harsh remarks without really meaning them. That maybe he was trying to be funny, or something.

Other texts showed up, but Kim Seungmin —named like so in the contact Felix had shared to you— wasn’t replying.

< minho🐈: guys wtf it’s 00:12

< lucas🤺: oh he uses the other clock

< lucas🤺: so its am-pm for us but not for you

< lucas🤺: think you’re special? wanna fight?

< noa🫶: lucas just shut up and go to bed

< han(gry)🐿️🎙️: damn right 🛌🛌🛌

< miguel📚: guys, stop texting 😓

> you: yeah guys lol

< minho🐈: no u started this

< minho🐈: u shush

You snickered softly, used to Minho’s humour, quickly playing along.

> you: ?! unfair ☝️🤓

< kim seungmin™️: no, minho’s right for once

< kim seungmin™️: you should shush

< kim seungmin™️: you’re less annoying when you’re quiet

You frowned at your phone, your face contorted in angry confussion.

Who did this guys think he was?

With a huff, you typed a rapid “gtg guys!”, ignoring Seungmin’s texts, and quickly settled your phone back on your pocket, getting off the bus and finally arriving home.

You groaned, the text that that Seungmin idiot had sent still rolling in your head even after you laid in bed. You passed your hands through your hair.

“Difficult to reach graduation?” You mumbled, eyes fixated ln the chatroom the sentence feeling like acid in your mouth.

Kim Seungmin wasn’t ready for how difficult his last year was going to be, solely for his stupid text message.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 1: NOT A LOVEFOOL… YET}

To be in the same class group than him was slightly tolerable.

Is what you’d like to say if you were in a good mood. But it wasn’t the case.

You were mad. As fuck.

“I just need you to give it a chance,” Miss Fernández stated once more, and you had to hold back to not roll your eyes at her.

“But Miss. I know that this subject is difficult and that he could, uh, help me out with the project,” you muttered reluctantly, because on normal circumstances, you wouldn’t go as far as to let Kim Seungmin help you with chemistry. Not ever.

You weren’t in need of help that desperatly.

And that was a fact, not a matter of ifs, buts, or maybes. That was an absolute. Something that lovely-yet-not-so-much teacher Lucía Fernández, spanish accent and all, was not getting.

“Listen. We both know that your grade is the best I can offer considering your behaviour in my class, despite of your average knowledge of the subject. And in this case, I am offering to set that aside if you work on these following assignments with your classmate Seungmin.”

Her harsh tone was also an absolute, and that made you clench your jaw. You blamed Lucas for her attitude towards you —after all, that one accident with a Bunsen Burner had been mostly his fault—, but you breathed in, trying to offer your most pity-inducing grin.

Judging by her glare, it wasn’t working.

“Miss, I—”

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t look like she was. “It’s my last word. And I think that after coming three days to my office on each of your free periods, this is getting a bit tiring.” She sighed, adjusting her glasses by a soft push of her finger.

Nope. She definetely wasn’t sorry.

Witholding a groan you left her office, and huffed as the door closed behind you, swiftly heading to meet your group of friends when they got out of their Biology lesson in other building within the school grounds.

It was a chilly evening, maybe not too much from what one could expect for the first week of February, still one that made you hide your face in your scarf and you hands in your jacket pockets.

You settled your headphones where they belonged, humming to the music to hold back the need to rant and rave against your chemistry teacher, when your phone dinged.

< henry li🫧: everything ok? saw you in lucifer’s office rn

< henry li🫧: did you do smth again? you cheekyyy 🙊

You gingerly laughed, and started typing out your answer, when, out of nowhere, you bumped against someone, making all of the books that they were carrying fall down of their grasp.

You pursed your lips, then pressed them in a thin line. Staring at their— his back, you saw that his backpack was almost empty. Why the fuck would he carry all of his books on his hands then?

The guy had quickly bent down to get his books back, and you followed too, taking your headphones off and quickly trying to prevent the papers from getting wet because of the floor, that was damp from the rain before, when your hands softly brushed against each other, still, you forced yourself to ignore it.

“I’m so…” the word dissapeared in your mouth.

“It’s ok, don’t… oh.” He blinked, his face showing nothing. For fuck’s sake.

Why did it always have to be him?

He swiftly took all of the things from you, as if your touch could be worse than the wet floor. You frowned, feeling a cold shiver trail up your spine, and you crossed your arms in front of you, struggling to seek some warmth.

“Watch it, little one.” He mocked with a light smirk. “I might accidentally step on you one day.”

You looked at him through your eyelashes. What. An. Idiot. You passed a hand through your hair, chuckling dryly.

“I-,” you sighed, shaking your head sideways. “Nah, you know what? I don’t have time for this crap.” You smiled at him widely, full of sarcasm.

But just when you were about to leave, you felt a tug at your sleeve, the fabric of your shirt not thick enough to hide the warmth of Seungmin’s grasp on your forearm. You frowned, confused at the lack of any uncomfortable feelings because of it. There was none, but rather a need to cover yourself with it and wear it like a jacket.

“Did you fix it?”

You blinked, trying to get your brain to focus on his words.

“Huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but his hand didn’t move an inch. “You said you were going to talk to Miss Fernández so we wouldn’t be partners, which is, well, so mature, congratulations,” he tsked, but then continued. “But did it work?”

You licked your lips and swallowed, your throat feeling dry. What was going on? You needed to focus.

In a harsh motion, you moved your arm away from his grasp. You forced yourself to ignore how your skin missed it.

“I… no. She settled. You- I mean… we…” the word felt awkward when it rolled off your tongue.

We? There was no such thing in between Seungmin and you. No we, no us, no nothing. And it was like that for a reason. One that you had almost forgotten with how softly his slender and warm hand had been holding your forearm. Ugh.

As you struggled to say those infamous words, your phone dinged again, and you mumbled a short “oh, wait,” and unlocked it.

< henry li🫧: leaving me on read, shortcake?

Seungmin stared at your phone, shoving his hands on his pockets when he saw you smile at the bright screen. He bit his lower lip. He hadn't taken all of his stuff out of his backpack just for this.

“So,” he licked his lips, and it almost shocked you the sudden roughness on his tone and demeanour. “Chemistry is easy. We can meet up on Friday in the public library. An hour or two should be enough, even for someone with a fun-sized brain like yours.” He chuckled meanly, the motherfucker.

Ever since that stupid text from him, you had made it your mission to surpass him, or at least reach his level, and to be honest, you were even succeding in some cases, like philosophy, art history, spanish, technical drawing and business studies. But Chemistry?

Chemistry would always kick you in the ass.

Before you were able to come up with a comeback for his stupid snicker, the bell rang, and you felt an arm laying its weight on your shoulders.

“Smallable!” Lucas laughed, then realized that you were talking to a certain someone and ful Ty ly gasped. “Oh my god. Are you two finally dating and I interrupted— AH!” He was interrupted by your elbow hitting his side. Noa and Atenea chuckled behind him.

“No. Seungmin was just leaving.” You huffed with a frown, but then you smiled, almost excessively, like a small maniac. “Right?”

But before he was able to reply or mock you, Atenea spoke, ruining your chances of kicking him away.

“But we all have English now,” she said, and if it had been someone else, like Lucas, you would’ve stepped on his shoe or something. “We’re going to the same place, we can go together.”

Seungmin felt you stare intensively at him. He smiled at Atenea, finding that he enjoyed having you look at him, reason why he loved annoying the shit out of you.

“Sure!” He smiled politely, almost sheepishly, and you bit your lip to hold back the need to scoff at his 'obviously fake' kindness.

Because except for you, the rest of your class —heck, probably the rest of the school— were smitten with Kim Seungmin.

Top of the class, funny, kind, and cutely introverted Kim Seungmin was just a dorky student who tried to get along with everyone.

But that was wrong. And you may not have any proof aside from his mean attitude towards you and only you, but you knew it.

Seungmin had to be more than just a pretty boy with high grades, and it was only with you that he proved you right.

You stayed next to Lucas, hoping that Seungmin would at least stay with your friends and ignore you.

But to your horror, he smiled at you, a pink dust on his cheeks. “If you don’t mind?”

Oh, son of a bitch.

“No… it’s whatever.” You huffed.

Because against his dorky self, to the rest of your class —heck, to the rest of the school— you were the quote on quote “bad student.”

Troublesome, mean, class clown? Check. You laughed at teachers in class with Lucas far more than what could be ignored, the dresscode had always been more of a guide in what to wear, unlike what most students usually followed, and you may have been expelled a bunch of times.

Even if you were somewhat kind to the people in school, and even if they all knew your rivalry with Seungmin, God forbid you were mean to him.

You wouldn’t see the end of it.

And he knew it.

Bitch.

So there you were, walking to English class with your friends plus innocent Seungmin —who no one had called, not even the ghostbusters—, who was snickering and giggling with Atenea about who-gives-a-shit. Something class-related. You couldn’t be bothered to listen.

Lucas chuckled next to you.

“Careful, Spongebob.” He laughed. “Some could say you seem jealous.”

…WHAT?!

“Of… of Kim Seungmin?” You snorted. “Are you on drugs?”

He ruffled your hair. “Sure, sure, keep lying to yourself, shortie.”

Finally, you arrived to class, but before you stepped inside, Seungmin stopped you, whispering in your ear.

“Yeah, shortie.” He teased, his lips almost grazing the shell of your ear. “Don’t be too jealous. We wouldn’t want everyone to know you love me.”

His whisper would’ve been almost enticing if it weren’t for the fact that it was Kim Seungmin the man in question, and he snickered, pushing his glasses back.

But then someone cleared his throat behind you two.

“Care to sit down? I don’t have all day.” Mister Holmes grunted, carrying a monster drink and a coffe at the same time.

That mas was slightly terryifing.

You squinted at Seungmin and then walked to your place at the back of the class, hoping that your cheeks felt warm because of how the teacher had startled you and definetely not your classmate’s honey-like voice.

“Pssst. Heeey,” Noa smiled teasingly, whispering with a smirk. “Pssst. You’re blushing…!”

“Shut up!” You frowned at her, but you were unable to hold back a smile. But it was because of your friend Noa. Not Kim Seungmin.

Mr Holmes cleared his throat, and finished off his monster, throwing it to the bin.

“So. I’ve been hearing from some students in the hallways that you’re all excited for saint valentines’ day.” He stated in a strong voice, one that filled the class with little to no effort. “And sadly so, I was thinking of putting an exam that Wednesday…” he faked a sigh, and you had to hold back a laugh, contrary to the frowns and groans that appeared in your classmates faces. Pfft, what a character. “Unless… you guys want to do something in true valentines fashion.”

Mr Holmes crossed his arms, laying back on his chair, his stare cold and face lacking any kind of emotions.

“Say… any ideas, Mr… Kim?”

Seungmin sat up straight at his name being mentioned, and you rolled your eyes, holding back a mocking smirk.

“I ugh… I wouldn’t want to bother my classmates with a lot of work, sir… but maybe… maybe a writing assingment related to the topic would be… enough?” Seungmin stated, his tone soft and shy, and there was even a blush that trailed up from his neck, but he stayed staight and firm as he spoke.

“A valentine-themed task.” Mr Holmes enunciated as he pondered. “It’s a… decent idea. Any complaints?”

You felt some of your classmates’ eyes on you, and you sighed, crossing your arms in front of you, remaining silent. As long as it wasn’t an exam, you’d accept whatever.

“With that settled, I’ll upload the task online this afternoon, but it’ll have to be written by hand. Be sure to hand in a picture of your assignment on time, or your final grade will be affected.” The teacher turned on his laptop, and started taking assistance.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Time had passed dreadfully slowly, until the bell rang and Mr Holmes dissmissed all of you so everyone could leave for the day.

“A valentine-themed task.” You huffed in annoyance as you stuffed your locker with books you weren’t going to take home.

“I thought it was original.” A voice snickered lowly behind you, and you slapped your locker close, smiling at him.

“Well, Henry. It’s no surprise your taste sucks.”

You chuckled when he rolled his eyes.

“I was waiting for your reply,” he mentioned with a soft tone.

You closed your locker, and you two started walking together. “Oh, sorry, I totally forgot,” you apologized with a smile, but he brushed it off. “Yeah, I was with Lucifer earlier. She’s making me work with Seungmin for this term’s assignments.”

Henry frowned. “And we hate that guy… right…” you chuckled.

“Exactly. We don’t like him.”

“So then, don’t do it. You were going to meet him to study, right?” You nodded, smirking slightly at him.

“We agreeded to meet on Friday to start, in the library.” You added, watching his smirk widen. “What are you thinking?”

He stopped walking, smiling at you. “There’s this club that opened recently. Been wanting to go have a look. Apparently, it’s like exclusive and shit. And it’s Friday.” His light-coloured eyes shined as he looked at you. “Meet me there?”

You grinned cheekily.

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

[☆★🌷★☆]

You hadn’t noticed Seungmin on the school bus until this year.

Because he had made himself noticeable, sitting at the back of the bus, a couple seats away from you, but oh, dorky Seungmin was always friend of everyone, sheepishly starting conversation with any kinds of people in the bus, no matter the year they were in.

Before his text, you had even thought he was cute as he gingerly chatted with a group of kids who were probably starting high school.

“Is it too difficult?” A little girl asked.

And it surprised you how he turned to her and smiled, almost tugging at your heart strings, eyes like crescent moons.

“It’s only difficult if you stop trying. And we don’t give up, right?” He stated cheerfuly, and all the kids shined at his sheepish and bashful brightness, high-fiving the girl that talked to him.

You forced yourself to shove those memories to the back of your mind. That Seungmin wasn’t real. And you didn’t like him. The real him. Right?

“Oi, Kim Seungmin.” You called, as it was only you two left on the bus.

He was surprised at your call, but only side-eyed at you, lazily raising his brows, signalling that he was listening. You frowned.

See? You thought to yourself. He’s mean. He isn’t sweet, nor cute. Focus.

“What kind of lame ass idea was that?” You huffed with a mean smile. “A valentine-themed assignment.” You snorted.

His bus stop was close, so he ignored you as he picked up his coat and backpack, but you kept on talking. “You know? Hallmark office called, they want their boring clichés back,” you mocked, laughing.

Backpack on and coat hanging on his arm, he stared at you, and waited for a red light to walk to your seat.

He settled next to you, still staring at you as you chimed mean remarks about his originality and such and such.

“Anything else to mumble? I couldn’t hear you from down there.” He snorted meanly, and you were too focused on annoying him that you didn’t notice his stare at your lips as he licked his own.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a lame guy. He gave you the chance to choose, and you chose that piece of—?!”

His lips tasted as sweet as his voice that day with those little kids.

You felt his hand slowly creep up and cradle your face, his eyes closed as he kissed you, and slowly, your eyes closed too.

It was sweet. So sweet. But what was it? It was a flavour that you knew. Its sweetness was so familiar, but you couldn’t seem to figure out what was it.

You kissed him back, and he let out a surprised whine as you sighed, your hands, which had been frozen on his shoulders, waiting for your order to push him away, slowly followed up and remained on his face, your thumbs almost stroking his cheeks.

You wanted needed to know what he tasted like.

But it was when your hands went into his hair that he sighed too, melting under your touch, that your brain clicked.

…

what were you doing?

…

WHAT WERE YOU DOING?!

You pushed him away, and your breath hitched.

He didn’t look like fake Seungmin.

In front of you was not the innocent boy who had straight A’s and was shy enough to not be able to say no to a lot of things, who sheepishly spoke up in class, or who treated everyone with a bashful kindness that was so endearing.

This Seungmin was different. His glasses had a bit of a fog in them, his hair was all messed up, and his lips were plush, pink from your tinted gloss and slightly swollen from your kiss.

This Seungmin was a wreck, all flustered and kissable, and he looked like a mess.

But it felt real.

And for a second, you wanted to kiss him again, yearning to figure what that kiss tasted like, the word for it almost in the tip of your tongue.

He panted, struggling to catch his breath.

“Finally,” he huffed with a smile, but his dark eyes didn’t match the mocking in his tone. A small part of your mind thought that they looked prettier than any light eyes you had ever seen. “So you were able to shut up, after all.” He gulped, still panting.

He moved away from you slowly, as you remained there, frozen, like a piece of art in front of him, cheeks blushed, lips flushed and parted as your eyes stared at him, an emotion much different from this evening.

He found himself enjoying this one even more.

“Eh… T-this is my bus stop.” He muttered when the bus stopped. Maybe it wasn’t, but he didn’t care. He felt like he would have the energy to run home if needed. “I-I’ll… see you tomorrow.”

You blinked as he stood up and walked away.

What…

What had just happened?

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 2: UNDER THE STREETLIGHT}

After avoiding Seungmin like the plague all Thursday, only looking at his back when you zoned off in class, Friday arrived earlier than expected.

You hadn’t been able to concentrate at all, the thought of his sweet taste lingering in your mouth, almost letting you feel the ghost of his lips pressed against yours.

“Hello? Earth to… oh, you’re awake, Jesus.” Abril looked at you with a smile, but she was unable to hide her worried look.

“Of course I am,” you mumbled, shaking your head sideways. “What’s going on?”

“You haven’t even touched your delicious and totally-not-overcooked pasta.” Lara mentioned the cafeteria lunch as she poked it whith her fork, full of humour. “It leads to believe that you’re dealing with something far more interesting that the technical drawing homework, that’s for sure.”

You bit your lip, hesitating.

“Is it because Henry Li has been ignoring you?” Noa mentioned softly.

You blinked, puzzled. “Huh?”

He’d been ignoring you? Now that she had mentioned, maybe that could’ve happened. Maybe you would’ve realized if you hadn’t been so focused on Seungmin and whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes…

…or maybe you should look for an easier name for it.

“Uh, no, he invited me to this new place today, actually,” you brushed your hair with your hand mindlessly. “But I’m fine. Really. Just tired.” You smiled at the girls, and joined in at their conversation.

After lunch, you separated from Lara and Noa, who had literature, and Abril, who had been hanging out with a guy called Jeongin from her photography club recently, and so you headed to the study room.

It was a quiet place, quieter that what you had initially expected for a high school study room. Matter of fact, you thought it was a pity that the school closed it after class, considering that in that case you wouldn’t have to walk to the public library.

You opened the door silently, finding that there were barely any students, only three or four people studying silently. You were heading towards a lonely corner so you could listen to music in a high volume without having to pay attention if it could be heard through your headphones. Or maybe, considering that it hadn’t been a lie and that you had slept like four hours maximum, you could probably rest there until the bell rang.

You snickered when you looked to your right, finding someone struggling with the technical drawing homework that had been assigned that morning, the one that Lara and Noa had been talking about.

You gently tapped the guy’s shoulder, but spoke before he even turned.

“You’re missing this incline here,” you whispered on his ear, your arms coming above his shoulders, placing your hands above his, placing the square and bevel on the right angle. “It should be seen, but with dotted lines, get it? That way the side-view makes sense.” You added with a soft giggle.

“Oh, right. T-thank you…” he mumbled, not facing you.

You brushed it off as weird, but your sleepy self wasn’t bothered enough to notice or pry, and instead smiled, ruffled his hair and settled in your cozy little corner, placing your scarf in between your arms and rested your head on it, merely “resting your eyes”, but only if a teacher happened to come and check on the students.

Seungmin stared at your sleeping figure, eyes almost wide. He felt like his heart was going to explode underneath the layers of flesh. His hands tingled, his usually warm and sweaty palms missing the comfortable coldness of yours, so soothing and relaxing.

Either you had completely gone crazy, or he had fallen asleep trying to complete the stupid assignment. He knew you were good at technical drawing, it was one of the subjects were he wasn’t. It wasn’t a surprise when several students started asking you for help on their papers and assignments, considering that you were one of the few who was able to receive praise from the teacher, a middle-aged man with no kind of vocation with kids or teaching, by any means.

But it had never happened when he was the one in need of help, had you ever considered the idea of helping him.

He watched you, puzzled, as he had never done before, and maybe it would be the first time of many because Seungmin found himself liking what he was seeing, dare I say mesmerized by the image before him.

By you.

Your sleepy figure was as calm as he had ever seen from you, sleeping with little to no care in the world. Your hair remained stuck in a ponytail, which allowed Seungmin to notice that it left the skin of your neck visible, and despite the voice on his head saying that it was a behaviour quite like a man from the Modern Ages, just being so fixated at that small bit of skin, he couldn’t help but feel bashfully amazed.

Suddenly, he noticed you licked your lips, your eyes still closed and your small smile never faltering, but that made something start to flutter in his stomach, as if a whole lot of butterflies had been awaken at the sight of you, tranquil, and sweet, and cute, and he forced himself to stop looking at you abruptly, wondering why he had done that in the first place.

Licking your lips only made Seungmin aware of how dry his were, and action plus the thought of your lips immediately brought back what had happened on Wednesday.

Crazy. He’d gone completely crazy.

He felt his hand slowly approach his lips and he grazed them with his fingers, almost able to taste your chapstick back on his lips. Because he had been able. All Wednesday night. And a small part of him wanted more of it.

He blushed, scratching his eyes. He hadn’t slept shit, his mind betraying him every time he attempted to close his eyes instantly going back to the memory of how you stared at him after your kiss, dark pupils, and red lips, and so ridiculously gorgeous that it made Seungmin wonder why whenever he saw you he resorted to his first line in code: being mean.

He never used that side with anyone. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried, because small, teasing and slightly unhinged Kim Seungmin had tried to be himself in middle school, and… well.

Let’s just say that it didn’t work like expected.

But everyone loved dorky, funny and sweet Seungmin. Even with the difference with grades, that had definetely not been appreciated in his early years, nowadays people would see that as a part of him, and he recieved praise for it, not only from teachers, but also nice classmates, who sometimes went to seek help from him.

He just needed to pretend for a bit. Smile here and there, and put on a sheepish act of bashfulness that despite it not being natural, it wasn’t totally bad. It wasn’t like middle school.

But then you came in the picture.

Something about you made Seungmin want to tease you. To see you finally look at him after battling in your head if you even should, and then, sometimes when you were mad enough, you’d glare at him, and he couldn’t help but grin. Your cheeks flushed in anger that creeped up your body, how you looked at him through your lashes or how you’d tease him back. The first time you had done that, his brain’s chemistry had changed, he was sure of that.

He didn’t care about the mean remarks, and that now seemed almost obvious, considering what had happened almost two days ago in the school bus.

But it got impossible to miss when Seungmin noticed your sleepy self shivering in your slumber. With a mental groan, careful of not making any kind of loud noise in the study room, he slowly got closer to your corner, and tried to close the windows near it. And failed, because the stupid windows were old and rusty, only able to move them a bit.

He bit his lip, arguing in his head. Would that be enough? No, it probably wasn’t, right? Yeah, it couldn’t be. Considering that you always wore thin clothing, always borrowing your mates’ jackets…

…it couldn’t possibly hurt to do a bit more, right?

Seungmin approached you further, and shook a hand close to your face, but you were dead, as still as a fallen tree, despite the sunlight that enetered throught the windows glowing on your face, the Sun in winter, that brought little to no warmth, made you shine in his eyes.

He’d see you in the public library a couple of hours later. It didn’t mean anything. He could probably tease you for sleeping in school later. Yeah. And then he’d ask for his jacket back.

Seungmin was lost in his thoughts as he carefully settled his jacket over your shoulders, and he froze when you sighed deeply, surrounded by a familiar warmth and a cozy scent that you didn’t know you had missed or needed until then, but you didn’t wake up.

He blinked when he noticed your phone in your hand, the screen suddenly turning on. He giggled at your wallpaper, which had a silly joke on it and a funny doodle of a banana.

But then his eyes trailed down to the notification that had made the phone turn on.

[3 new messages from: henry li🫧]

> sorry i didn’t get to see u yesterday, had to sort smth out!

> guys.its.totally.a.real.address.wdym.lol

> it’s the address for later, shortcake 😉❤️

…huh?

Seungmin blinked once. Twice. Nah, his glasses had to be deceiving him. Then, another notification popped up.

> can’t wait to see you ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

He winced silently.

Ugh. What a cringy choice of emojis.

Did you really like this guy?

He frowned, going back to his place in the study room.

Ugh.

He didn’t care, obviously. Why would he care? That wasn’t his business. Never was, never would be. Not like he was interested. Pffft, no. Not at all. Yeah, nah. That kiss had been a one time thing. Totally. 100%. He wasn’t thinking about it again. Nope. Nor did he want to kiss you again. Not in a chance.

Just… ugh.

It was just that… no. Scratch that. No further comments.

He sighed as he went back to his work, feeling a sudden inspiration hit him as he took out a blank paper for the English class valentine’s assignment, but not before he looked at you again, then shook his head, turning the music back on in his headphones. He started writing, drafting, and throwing papers away, getting slightly desperate at his perfectionism.

He sighed. His eyes trailed off towards you.

Slowly, words started to flow in his head. Pretty sentences, things that he had kept hidden in the back of his mind. Maybe it could be good to let it all out. It couldn’t hurt. Yeah.

So he stared writing. Vomiting word after word. And he finished earlier than expected, with two papers.

One was perfect for the english assignment. It was boring and dull enough to be handed in for a school work, but good enough for his perfectionism.

And the other… was something different.

Something that had only happened because you were there, in front of him.

He stood up, letter on his hand. He leaned against the table you were sleeping in, and settled the jacket further on your shoulders. He sighed, grabbing a pen from his pencil case, folding the letter and signed it.

Maybe it was a bad idea, he thought as he picked up his stuff from the table and adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

He looked at your figure once more before heading out.

It had been to check if you were still asleep, of course.

Just to check.

Yeah.

[☆★🌷★☆]

Your phone vibrated in your hand again.

And again.

And again.

With a groan, you silently accepted that there was no way you could fool an inanimate object into believing that you were still asleep.

But when you yawned and looked around and didn’t find the posters in your room, but rather a whole bunch of tables and chairs, your eyes widened.

It hadn’t been your alarm but a phone call that had awoken you.

“Y-yeah?” You mumbled, picking up the call and quickly taking your backpack and scarf and rushing out of the study room, taking a quick scan and making sure you weren’t leaving anything behind.

“I’m heading to the club now, shortcake.” A low voice greeted. “Are you getting ready?”

Who…?

“H-henry?” You frowned slightly.

You heard him snicker through the other side. “Yeah?”

Fuck, shit, fuck.

“N-nothing! Nothing, I, uh, I was just doing my make up. Y-you know.”

What? You frowned, even more this time. No, that didn’t make any sense. You always blabbered about how you never did your make up for clubbing because the one you owned was cheap and never stayed on anyways.

“Sure, yeah.”

It didn’t seem like he had noticed.

“You can head there before me. I’ll go there eventually, yeah?”

You heard him snicker on the other side of the phone call. “Ok, baby.” He cleared his throat, stuttering a bit. “Y-yeah, I mean, I’ll uh… get there in a bit. Don’t rush.”

Only then you felt that the wind from outside wasn’t freezing your bones like usual. You squinted at the jacket you were wearing.

“Henry, did you…?” But he hung up.

It probably was him. Yeah. That’s why he had called you. To make sure you’d wake up.

Besides, there were little to no people who’d do such a kind gesture towards you, and even if the jacket was pretty much your style and it smelled like heaven, it didn’t feel like something any of the girls would keep around.

So, why didn’t it made you feel giddy that Henry had given you his jacket?

You kept on running through the hallways and catched the bus that was usually there for students who had extracurricular classes, unlucky people who had to stay in school late in Fridays. You never had, using Fridays to be a bit lazy or to start homework sooner just to hand it in earlier than Seungmin.

Oh.

Friday.

Seungmin.

The library.

You bit your nails, staring through the window.

Would he wait there for long?

What was he going to do once he figured you weren’t going to show up?

Were you… feeling guilty?

No… that… that couldn’t be, you chuckled dryly. Mean decisions against Kim Seungmin didn’t spend too much time on the judgmental side of your brain. You just… teased him back. And he’d take it. And double it. And so on.

So why did this feel too mean?

Could it be because of whatever-happened-that-cannot-and-should-not-be-remembered-every-five-minutes?

Could the fact that it had been the best thing that had happened in a long while?

Well, fine.

Not just ‘thing’.

A kiss.

And for fuck’s sake, what kiss.

You groaned and grunted, sprinting home as soon as the bus stopped.

Why did it always have to be him?

You entered your room and burst open your closet. The jacket was cool, you thought. And if you were going to see Henry, you could just wear it and hand it back to him in the club.

It was vintage, but its warmth engulfed you as if it had been handmade. Its funky designs and patterns looked cute, and its grey color contrasted well with it. You chose the first dress you saw, a tight black dress with no sleeves that you would’ve discarded as too short if you had more time, but it wasn’t exactly something you could’ve bragged about.

Jacket, dress, high socks, boots, wallet, phone, keys, headphones… yeah. You nodded, checking all of the boxes in your mental list, and started hurriedly walking to the address he had sent.

You hoped you weren’t going to be too late.

[☆★🌷★☆]

“Pick up, pick up, pick up…”

“The number you are trying to call is turned off or out of coverage. Please, leave your message after the—”

You hang up, tired of hearing that mechanic voice over and over again.

You looked around you, and there was nothing that looked like a club. You had tried to enter the building that the address lead to, but it hadn’t got well.

A strange figure opened a small window and gave you a look, almost disgusted. It took you a second to understand that they were wearing a mask, with dark lace and other colours. But just when you were about to speak, the window slammed close.

You blinked, puzzled. Where the fuck was Henry sending you? What kind of club was this?

You had started to roam around the building, trying to call him —and failing misserably, because the damn guy couldn’t pick up the fucking phone for the life of him—, but now you were starting to run out of ideas.

It was past 12pm, your legs shivered with every slight wind that swooshed your way, and there was no one that was going to pick up the phone. Not Henry, that ridiculous imbecile, not Lucas, who always bragged about having his phone in night mode, so nothing would get to him until morning, and not the girls, because Noa had her phone turned off, Atenea was most likely sleeping, Abril and Lara hadn’t picked up either, and your list of close friends who could possibly pick up was… that.

And no one was picking up the fucking phone.

You were about to keep on ranting about how disgustingly bad this was turning out to be, but you heard footsteps coming your way. You looked around, but didn’t find the source. With a frown, you walked to the building again

Placing your hand on one of the windows, who were dark and almost impossible to see through, you could notice that in the dim light from what could be seen outside, Henry was well entertained with a certain kind of company, so much that he couldn’t even pick up your phone.

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against the tinted glass. Of course. Yeah. That made total sense. It was Henry, after all. He had always been known to be kind of an asshole anyways. It couldn’t possibly come out as a surprise the fact that he actually was.

You shook your head and mentally mocked him and the blond girl he was kissing.

Henry Li could go to Hell.

Guess there was nothing left to do now. You had dumped Seungmin, and Henry had dumped you. It was an ass move over an ass move. Maybe you kinda deserved it.

But then your thoughts ended in a halt, because you swore you could feel a shadow starting to follow you from a distance.

They were behind you, but not too close, and due to their hoodie it was imposible to distinguish their face.

So you started walking. Turning left. Right. Left again. Right. Just kept on walking. Don’t look behind you. They’d probably just leave. This had to be your imagination, 100%.

But when you took a peak, the silhouette was not only still behind you, slowly walking towards you, but a slight bit closer this time.

You swallowed dry, gulped, even. Your heart tightened in your chest. What kind of joke was this? Your eyes were tearing up. You were tired, and this was mental. Adrenaline rumped through your body, and even if you were already lost, you kept on walking.

You took your phone from your pocket. Think, think, think. Who could you call? Who could pick up at one am? You scrolled down your list of contacts, until for a reason you don’t fully get, your eyes stopped at a certain name.

—> seungmeannie

It couldn’t possibly hurt to try… right?

You sniffed almost silently, and pressed call.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

You started crying a bit louder, unable to hold it back.

“Eh, hi…?”

“S-seungmin!” You sobbed, smiling. It was the first time in your life you had been that happy just from being able to hear his voice, raspy and low.

“W-what?” He stopped talking, and you guessed that it was because he hadn’t figured out who was calling him so late at night. “Do you know what time it is, you fun-sized dingus?” He groaned sleepily at the phone.

You bit your lip and sniffed.

“Wait. Are you… crying?” His tone had changed.

“I-i’m sorry about t-this eve-ening.” You sobbed, failing to hold back the tears, hugging the jacket that was still on your shoulders.

“Are you drunk, little one?” You never thought your shoulders could relax as fast as they had when his soft tone of voice called you that stupid nickname.

“N-no, I… I went to this stupid club, with-“

“With Henry, yeah.” The way he said his name, as if he wanted to put that stupid bitch in a box and send him to the end of the world took you by surprise.

“B-but um, he’s not picking up my phone and I…” you gulped. Taking a peek behind you, you shivered. “I think someone’s following me.”

“Wait, what?” Seungmin had never stood up from bed as fast as he had done that night. “Where are you?” He asked to the phone as he randomly picked a sweater and his glasses, biting his lip as he struggled to put on his shoes.

“I… I don’t know.” You sobbed. “I started walking away so he’d go, but it didn’t work.” You mumbled, sniffing. You felt so stupid.

“Everything’s going to be fine, yeah?” It was the first time in the whole afternoon that you felt like that statement could be true. Because Seungmin was going to help you. “Don’t hang up. Tell me what buildings can you see. Try heading away from small alleys. I’ll find you.”

Seungmin rushed out of his appartment, not before scribbling down what was happening in a post it note and left it on his mother’s bedside table.

“T-there are some restaurants, but they’re all closed.” You started, dubious as how was this going to work. “There’s a road to my left.”

“Can you name any of the restaurants, little one?” Seungmin had a hunch, and he huffed, sprinting to the plaza closest to his appartment.

“I just passed by a Mexican, I think.” You sniffed, Seungmin’s soothing voice working like a charm and calming you down slowly. “In front of me, I think this is a Japanese… it’s called Ginza.”

Seungmin chuckled, feeling relief flooding his body. “Y-yeah, ok! I- god, yes, I know where you are. Keep walking straight ahead. There should be a park, right?” He started running, hiding the fact that he’d have to rush and make the usual fifteen minutes it could take him to arrive where you were and make them five.

He needed to see you and make sure you were safe.

“I… shit, yeah! I can see it!” You went back to crying, a smile planted in your features.

“I’m almost there. You’re doing so well, little one.”

You felt your cheeks getting warmer at that. Walking a bit faster, you looked behind you, finding that the silhouette was still there.

But Seungmin was close. Seungmin said everything would be fine.

“S-seungmin?” You mumbled at the phone, wanting to hear his voice, so soothing and warm.

“Under the streetlight, silly.”

You heard the beep that sounded when Seungmin ended the call, but he was there, tangible, a couple of meters away from you.

You chuckled, happy to see him for the first time ever, and crying away the pent up stress and worry, you ran off to him, and clung your arms around his neck tightly, unbothered at the need to stand on the tips of your toes to do so.

Seungmin stuttered, still panting from the marathon he had ran to get there, 100% baffled at this. But it was ok. You were there. You were safe.

“T-they’re still behind me.” You whispered against his chest.

He could feel your nervousness on your tone, how scared you were judging by how strongly your arms closed behind his neck, and hesitated for a second before hugging you back, his arms pulling you closer by your lower back, keeping you grounded and so weirdly safe in his grasp, and it felt so strangely comforting coming from him that your eyes swelled with more tears.

You couldn’t see or feel the person behind you anymore, but Seungmin did, somewhat clearly.

The only thing that his mind made up that moment is that for the person to leave, they’d have to believe you two did know each other.

And Seungmin’s heart beated loudly in his chest when your grasp loosened and you stood back on your feet, allowing him to see how your lip trembled, how you were holding back tears and how you looked at him with a million emotions hidden in the colour of your eyes. He had never seen you cry before.

His hands itched to touch you again, a sudden need to comfort you that overwhelmed him.

So he did.

His hands cradled your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away your tears, and he pecked your lips softly, smiling at your baffled face. His arms engulfed you in a comforting hug that smelled so much like the jacket you were wearing.

He looked behind you, and the silhouette was nowhere to be found. As if it had never been there before.

“It’s ok.” Seungmin whispered in your ear. “I’m here now. You’re safe. They’re gone, yeah?” His arms rested on your shoulders as his slender hands stroked your hair. “No one’s gonna hurt you now, pretty.”

And you started to cry on his shoulder, because not only then you realized how bad you had needed a hug, and not even the fact that it had been a hug from him that you had secretly yearned for, but because none of your excuses made sense now.

There was no ‘fake’ or ‘real’ Seungmin.

Whatever he was, fake or not, stood in front of you as he hugged you under the streetlight.

And you sighed as he cooed at you softly, because deep down you had known for a while.

It was time you came to terms with it.

[☆★🌷★☆]

{ACT 3: WINDOWS, LETTERS AND POEMS}

Wednesday. 9:56 am. 14th February.

Most of your classmates were still arriving from their next class as you stared at two papers in your hands slightly from afar, pencil in your lips.

You had discarded most of your creations all Monday and Tuesday when you finally ended with a draft you liked for the stupid english homework. It was nothing out of the ordinary.

But the letter in your other hand, however, was something you had never done before.

“What’s that you got there?”

Any kind of bubbly and nervous emption you had vanished at the sound of that low voice.

“Fuck off, Li.” You grunted in a husky tone, frowning at him and grabbing back the letter from his hands.

“Is it a love letter for me?” He chuckled, ignoring your behaviour.

“Why the fuck would I write that, huh?” You laughed, a chuckle full of acid, one that had much more hatred that you had ever said before.

Henry brushed a hand through his hair, and you couldn’t help but think he looked stupid. You had liked this guy? Ugh.

“Because today is valentine’s day, shortcake.”

You squinted and frowned at him.

“Swishing those dyed and damaged locks like a Loreal advert won’t make anyone fall in love with you.” You snorted, and realized the people in the hallway had fallen into silence, listening to your conversation. “Or maybe it worked with that blond girl in the club?” You pretended to ponder out loud, leaning against the locker behind you, facing him with confidence.

“Wait, what?” He mumbled.

You snickered, taking him by surprise. “Oh, silly. I was never going to date you. I kept hearing that you were an ass and figured that was right, because aside from me, little to no people talked to you. I guess I just felt pityful.” You faked a pout.

He clenched his fists, his shoulders tense.

“You’re lying.” He grunted.

You chuckled. “You wish I was. That blond girl didn’t steal my man. She stole my problem.” You heard some gasps from the people in the corridor, as they had formed some kind of circle around you two.

But then, Henry snorted, and cleared his throat, talking with a much louder voice. “So you’re not going to let everyone know about you and Seungmin?” He smirked. “I feel like that’s a bit unfair. Making it seem like I’m the bad guy and all.”

You tried hard to make it seem like that hadn’t surprised you. You were so surprised by it that you didn’t have time to react when he yanked your letter from your hand.

“Such sweet words, all dedicated to him,” he mocked. “I think these people want to know.”

“Give it back!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes dull with embarassment.

Even if he wasn’t as tall as Seungmin, there was still a decent difference between you and him. And with a sly grin, he raised the paper above your head.

You licked your lips, anger filling your body.

“Give. It. Back.”

But then he started reading.

“I looked at him as if he were the Sun, in that I never looked at him except in frustration.” He read out loud, moving the paper from your reach everytime you tried to reach. “I seeked his warmth, I complained when he was gone, but I never looked, not until I noticed he was leaving, and in the beauty of the sunset, I wondered how I had never seen him before.”

You stared at the floor, a blush spreading through your cheeks, coming from your neck.

“And that’s basically what happened.” You mumbled to Abril and Lucas over at a bench in the school grounds, hours after that whole thing had happened.

“What?!” You flinched at Abril’s loud voice. “I’m going to kill him. I am so going to murder that nasty ass bitch.” She threatened to stand up, but Lucas grabbed her forearm.

“And what about Seungmin?” He questioned softly, a lot more gentle that what you usually would expect.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“I haven’t spoken to him since Friday” You stared at him with a weakness you had never felt before. “It’s like he doesn’t want to talk to me, I…” you sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore.” You sniffed.

You had to stay in the study room for the afternoon, waiting for Atenea to get out of the club she was in so you could head to the library together like you had promised, but as you studied in silence, someone sat in the chair in front of you, frowning at you.

You took your headphones off and scratched your eyes. “Eh… Hyunjin?”

“Abril told Lara and she told me,” he mentioned in a huff. “And I’ve known Seungmin for many years. He’s not an impulsive guy. He hasn’t treated anyone like how he treats you.”

You blinked, puzzled, but frowned at him. “Are you going to scold me?”

“You better believe I am!” He scoffed. “Would you like me to politely tell you that you’ve behaved like a total idiot around him?”

“What are you—?!”

“You simply never bothered to talk to Seungmin about any of what Lara told me!” He stated with force, and you didn’t think to tell him to shut up, considering that the study room was empty that time.

“Do you really expect me to understand whatever was happening and tell him right away?” You blurted out with anger, a bit shocked at his rough approach. “Had I had the opportunity I would have!

He rolled his eyes, passing a hand over his face in a sign of desperation.

“You had every opportunity! For months!” He left his hand on the table, and started tapping at it with force, trying to make a point. “Admit it. Seungmin has been in your head ever since we both changed from the other class and you two started bickering.” Hyunjin’s eyes stared at you with a fierce glare that almost threatened to pierce holes through your skull.

“That’s bullshit!” You spitted out defensively.

“Oh, spare me!” He brushed it off. “There have been countless clues! Your stupid need to make everything a competition when it comes to him is infuriating. He talks to me about these things, you know?” He swallowed, and you leaned back in surprise, but he kept on going. “How you look at him when you’re angry, or how you mock and tease him back. It’s stupid!” He cursed out loud. “And these last two weeks have only made it so much worse.”

“What do you mean, worse?” You pondered softly, slowly taking in Hyunjin’s dramatic act.

“I mean, you were totally smitten by how he ridiculously kissed you at the back of the bus last week, considering that you kissed him back.” He stated clearly. “And he wouldn’t shut up about it and how you were ignoring him after, which, great fucking work, by the way, the dude wouldn’t shut up about you.” Hyunjin blinked slowly, trying to recall and voice what he was thinking. “And then he lends you his jacket when a mystery debutant shows up.”

“A—a what?”

“Motherfucker, eh, that Henry asshole.” Hyunjin rubbed his eyes. “I had to endure him talking shit about him for an hour because he saw him texting you some weird shit with cringe emojis.” The exasperation on his tone rendered you almost speechless. “And even then he struggled to admit how fucking jealous he was about that guy. He had your attention. He had your smile. You looked at Henry, not at Seungmin, and ah, for fuck’s sake.” Hyunjin covered his face with his hands. “He felt so ridiculously powerless that he talked to me about it. He’s never done that before!”

You were only able to blink, struggling to grasp everything he was saying.

“And then, with no word of warning, you called him, at, what, like, one in the morning?” Hyunjin said in a huff, the thought of that bringing back his anger, making him stare at you with a frown again. “He, jesus, he talked for AGES about how you hugged him, and the fact that you were wearing his jacket, like— like you’re doing now, what the fuck.” He stopped mid-scolding, staring at you with confusion.

“It’s… it’s his?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened slightly as he nodded. “What, you didn’t know? You helped him with tecnical drawing, he gave you his jacket, bla bla bla. That whole thing?”

You blushed, shaking your head sideways. You had done what?

“Nevermind. You can talk to him about that later.”

It was your turn to scoff now. “Judging by the fact that he sent you, I don’t think he would like to see me anytime soon.”

Hyunjin chuckled dryly.

“Don’t you even dare keep ignoring him. This stupid game has lasted for too long. Besides, he doesn’t know I’m here. He thinks I’m in dance practice, but whatever. You needed to know, because he’s a mess.” Hyunjin stated, passing a hand through his hair. “He can’t sleep well, he can’t concentrate, he can’t do anything.”

It looked like the scolding was over, but there was a remaining anger that came back to him as a memory struck.

“And, moreover, you callously ignored the letter Seungmin wrote you, even though he told you he loved you!”

You were looking at your notebook on the table, halfly staring at your nails and fidgeting with them, but your head almost snapped when you stared at him.

“What letter?” You muttered, your eyes locked on his. He frowned, his eyes slightly widening.

Your heart started beating faster, almost so loud you could hear it in your head.

“Hyunjin, what letter?!”

[☆★🌷★☆]

Seungmin felt his lungs on fire.

Run, run, run.

His feet were hurting, because his old ass shoes were busted enough that their insides were almost destroyed from everyday use.

But he needed to find you.

Maybe it was because it was Valentine’s day, despite the obvious influence that a certain friend of yours had done.

“Wait, you— you missed school this morning?” Lucas had muttered with a puzzled look, eyes wide.

“I had to go to the dentist to take my braces off. Yeah.” Seungmin stated again. “So whatever you meant by ‘being an ignoring bitch this morning’, I know nothing about it.”

And then someone next to them had chimed in. “You’re talking about Henry and what happened this morning with—“

“Yeah. Why?” Seungmin had interrupted, frowning slightly.

“There’s a video of it.”

Run, run, run.

The look in your eyes when you spoke with Henry. Your smug smile when you caught him by surprise.

Your poem.

His eyes had widened when Henry started reading it in the video.

Was it…?

Could it…?

Could it really be for him?

He wanted needed to find out.

He needed to find you.

“Watch where you’re going!” A man grunted at him, and Seungmin quickly apologized, running off.

Run, run, run.

He knew where you lived just because of Friday, when you had asked him if he could head towards your house with you, still a bit scared from what had happened. He accepted in a heartbeat, reassuring you that it was fine with a million smiles.

His hand had never left yours. Your touch, colder than his, had something so adicting to it that he didn’t want to let go.

Time seemed to pass slowlier when he recognized your neighbourhood. He was about to ring on your floor, but then, your silhouette got out of the elevators, and you both blinked at each other, staring through the glass door.

You opened it slowly, approaching him.

The look in your eyes was different than what Seungmin was used to.

It wasn’t similar to how you had looked at him ever since the school year started, with a shimmer of anger that turned your cheeks pink. Or how you had looked at him that afternoon in the back of the school bus, pupils dark and lips red and slightly swollen from kissing. Or how your eyes glowed in hope and comfort that Friday night.

It was different. He wanted to savour it. He wanted to see every detail of it.

He walked towards you and cradled your face in his hands.

“Wait.” He muttered in a whisper, taking off his glasses in a movement that to you felt almost enticing.

“What is it?” You whispered back.

He blinked at you as he cleaned his glasses with the hem of his shirt.

“You’re fucking blurry.” He snickered softly, with a sheepish smile that tinted his cheeks pink.

You giggled.

He settled his glasses back in place, and smiled when your image made sense before him.

“Better.” He muttered.

“Seungmin, I—“

But you stopped speaking when his lips crashed against yours.

There it was. He tasted sweet like how hot chocolate tastes in a rainy day. You smiled at your discovery, wanting to taste it for hours.

He wanted to kiss you for days to come, even if there was a million things left for both of you to say.

“I’m sorry.” Kiss. “I wasn’t in school this morning.” Kiss. “But I saw a video of it.” Kiss. “And I needed to—“

You giggled, taking his glasses and settling them on the top of his head.

“We can do the talking later.” You smiled, your cheeks red as your hands grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

“Are you sure?” He gulped, blushing too as he mumbled.

“Yeah.” You smiled even more. “I’d rather do the kissing now.”

You'd never know what happened with his letter. But considering where that had lead you, maybe it wasn't totally bad that the wind had carried it out the window.

[☆★🌷★☆]

~Kats, who, believe it or not, took the text argument in the beginning from an old school groupchat (yes i was the target akbdksbdks idk why lol, but no, i did not have an enemies2lovers :( lmao)

HAPPY FUCKING VALENTINES DAY!

TAGGING! (oh wow) @that-crazy-five-foot-two-chick @deadcrow-donteat @obyyyy @euphoric-univers @aslou @19marka @daisyjihannie @im-loco66 @coolbabydumplings @amarecerasus @sharonxdevi @han-to-my-minho @abbiespooks @moon0fthenight @koala-wonderland @hecrtful @hheesungsung @vampcharxter @kpopandblunts @daisy-dont-play @skz-lover21 @skyl1nninie @lunathewonyoungstan @5starlee @pchyyhoe @4ln-stay8 @michelle4eve (bolded and/or purple means it won’t let me tag you, pookies! please check your blog’s privacy settings <3)

[simpcityy]

My Little Spawn Pt.3 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, violence, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game, mentions of blood, animal death...Uhhh...I think that is all.

Authors Note: Thank you all so much for the support! I am so glad you are all loving this series so far! As always please, like, reblog and comment if you are loving this series and hopefully others would like it as well. Also...THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 500 FOLLOWERS. YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST. Since we reached this number, I would do another father figure series because I feel I'm much better at that than a romance x reader version. Who should it be? Gale? Wyll? Rolan? Gortash? So many choices!

  Astarion leans against the rocky wall watching you get swarm by the female druids and Tieflings coddling you from how adorable you are. He lets out a small smile seeing you pout as the ladies coo at you. He thinks back to the discovery he found out 2 nights ago. Dhampir, when has Cazador ever been involved with a human. More importantly which dumb female wants to be in a relationship with Cazador. He looks at you seeing you trying to squirm away from the ladies. He sudden thinks back how protective Cazador was with you. Never letting you step out of the palace even at night….no…he wasn’t protecting you but rather himself. He’s raising you as a spawn to conceal the reality of your powers. What a bastard but then again Astarion is not surprised, it’s Cazador after all.  

 You finally had enough of this ladies and burst out crying “Astarion!” You wail feeling overwhelmed. He sighs and walks over “Excuse me Ladies, I think the little one has enough and I hate for them to get cranky.” He picks you up walking away from the pouting ladies. “Now, now, there is no need to cry” He sighs and rubs your back as you whimper clinging on to his armor. “Don’t like the attention or what?” He asked as you only kept quiet whimpering a couple times laying your head on his shoulder trying to relax. He leans his head back trying to look at you, “Are…you okay, so odd of you to be quiet.” He mutters trying to find the group in the grove. “I just miss home…I miss papa…and everyone else…” You mutter. He sighs “there, there but you have me no?” He hums walking through the grove enjoying this simple conversation with you. “I want to go home…my clothes don’t fit much…it hurts me and I miss my toys!” You whine. Astarion lets out a chuckle “Oh what a spoiled little spawn…well creature…eh, you’ll always be a little spawn to me.” He puts you down looking at you, it was true, he did notice you were an inch taller than yesterday and your clothes did look a bit tight. “Oh you weren’t kidding…” He thinks looking around “Dhampir do grow faster and mature faster….” He mutters to himself before going to a trader seeing if they have anything in stock, fabric even. 

As he was busy, you stray from him as you spotted a few tiefling children playing. You ran over smiling “Can I play!” You stood in front of them. “Sure! You’re from Baldur’s gate aren’t you by the way you talk and dress?” One of them smiles, “What games do you play at home?” One asked. You think carefully. Games, well you play ball by yourself, Cazador has you learn reading and writing. “I…um…I don’t know…usually papa has me studying and sends his people to play with me.” You held your hands behind your back and kick your feet in a shy manner. “Oh…you’re those kinds…Um….I think I heard my mom calling” They quickly left as the others give other excuses and leave you alone. You only look down and grab the ball they dropped bouncing it on your own. “What’s the matter?” Gale walks over seeing the scene. You look up, eye glossy trying not to let tears fall down. “Making friends is hard…” You whisper “Back home there is no other children playing with me…” Gale looks at you thinking back to himself as a young child. “It is isn’t it?” He smiles gently grabbing the ball from you and tossing it to you playing. You smile giggling and toss it back to him. “I don’t have any friends at home to play with, papa never lets me leave the big castle…” You catch the ball as it was tossed back. “Is that so? I know how it feels to be lonely…how about this.” He catches the ball and placed it down as he squats to your height. “(Y/N) would you like to be my friend?” He smiles as your eyes widen gasping. “You mean it!” Your little body bouncing with excitement. Gale nods waiting for your response. “Yes!” You bounce happily “ I have to tell Astarion!” You ran off to find the pale elf. Gale chuckles watching run off to bother Astarion with a big smile on your face.  

The next day You were told to stay in the grove. Shadowheart chuckles watching you pouting away eating whatever was given to you. “I want to go out too!” You look up at her. She only sighs “How do I deal with children…you want to go out you say? I guess we can outside the gates and collect some herbs. I know everyone is going to need healing after this battle.” Getting up, she held your hand and walked outside of the grove. You ran around happily collecting flowers for everyone. “What am I supposed to collect?” You asked her. She smiles fixing your hair “See this herb right there, that’s what we need.” She points as your eyes follow the direction she was pointing at. You ran over picking it up smiling and collected more. She only sits by the rock watching you over as you collected whatever caught your little eye. You hum the same tune Cazador would hum to you. Collecting flowers you stopped seeing a bunny hop around in the distance. Shadowheart was busy playing with the artifact like a rubik's cube only to look up hearing the poor bunny squeal in the distance. She panics not seeing you and gets up putting the artifact away. “(Y/N)!?” She follows the sound before going down a small path behind a rock wall seeing you drain the blood of the poor bunny. You look up at her blood soaking your shirt and your lips stained. “What…are you doing?” She slowly walks over to you and kneels by you. You look at him “I…I didn’t mean to…I wanted to play with the bunny but…” You began to wail feeling overwhelmed by these urges. “Oh please don’t cry.” Shadowheart panics looking around, not knowing what to do in this scenario. “Where is the Spawn when you need him…okay. Let’s clean you up and a nap will help” She holds your hand ignoring the blood and toss the rabbit on the side into a bush for a wolf or other animal to chow on. She walks to the river and makes you wash your hands. “Relax, everything is going to be okay.” She whispers as you whimper. She collects water into her palm and rubs off the blood from your shirt the best of her ability. She sighs seeing the shirt to be now discolored into the blood stain. “Your bag is in the grove….we can’t let them see you like this.” She wipes your cheeks clean as well. You look over hearing the bush rustle behind her. Shadowheart quickly picked you up and took out her mace. “Who goes there!” She glares. You cling to her only to tear up seeing Astarion walk out of the bush. 

“There you are, I thought I smelled blood near the gate.” He was out of breath and bruised from the battle they came back. His hair was all over the place and had a panicked look on his face. Shadowheart puts her mace away “Don’t scare me like that! I could’ve swing!” She scolds at him. He paid no attention to her as he walks over seeing your face stained in tears and a scared look. He noticed your clothes stained in blood. He took you from her arms and held you close, his hand on the back of your head. “What in the hells were you thinking?! I thought it was your blood I smelled all the way from the gates! I thought you got hurt!” He yells but not loudly knowing how much you hate it. You only laid your little head on his shoulder crying into his shoulder, your fist clinging on to him. He softens a bit feeling your little shoulders shake, you were scared. “What happened?” He looks at Shadowheart ready to pin this on her. “What did you do to them!” He glares at her. Hearing the commotion, Tav found them along with the others following. “What’s going on? Why is (Y/N) crying?” Tav walks over ready to stop Astarion seeing the murderous glare at the young woman. “What did you do!” He repeats to her, holding you close. “Their Dhampir side came out…” Shadowheart looks at him, feeling a bit speechless seeing him get this overprotective. She snaps out of it and points to the bunny in the bush. Gale walks over but turns around quickly “If you have a weak stomach…I suggest not looking” He covers his mouth. Tav walks over and looks at the bunny. “Gods…its in pieces….” They whisper. Hearing their comments made you tear up. They think your a monster, they won’t be your friends anymore…they won’t take you to see your home and papa anymore. You only hide your face more, letting out choked sobs. “Enough! Think before you speak.” Astarion held you close “We just hide the damn bunny and do our best to cheer them up…they are feeling overwhelmed and not themselves…gods do you people ever use your brain?” He walks off holding you close. 

  Night fell, you were in Astarion tent, in the corner. The pale elf walks in holding food, “Your still human…you need to eat this….we can start implementing human foods more than blood to control that urge.” He sits by you. You only look at the plate, hugging your knees and shake your head no. “(Y/N)...it was okay what you did…it’s in your nature…and I know your scared…I was too…when I first became a spawn….” He whispers softly and scoots closer only for you to scoot away. “ No…I don’t want to you…or anyone…like I did to Mr.Bunny..” You tear up. “Is that why mommy didn’t want me…am I a monster…they…probably won’t be my friends anymore” You whispers thinking back their reaction to the bunny. Astarion looks at you before grabbing your arm, you gasp and try to wiggle away, scared to hurt him only to feel a warm embrace. Astarion held you close, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “By hells, you are speaking nonsense little spawn.” He rubbed your back. “If they thought of us as monster, we wouldn’t be here now…they…are odd in their own ways you know so no one is perfect.” He grabbed the plate “Now eat up” He feed you a piece of fish and sat you on his lap, making sure you ate. You happily munched feeling slightly better. 

  After finishing your food, you laid your little head on Astarions chest as he held you close in one arm while the other was busy reading a book about Dhampir’s he found in a box. Your little doe eyes look up seeing everyone walk to Astarion’s tent. You cling to him feeling anxious only to calm down as Astarion rubs your little arm, “Relax, they come bearing gifts” He hums. Gale was the first one to talk “(Y/N), it was rude of me to…you know…having a weak stomach but you have nothing to worry about, I will always be your friend.” He smiles and leans down leaving down a purple wrapped gift on the ground for you smiling. He rubs your head “Sleep well” He whispers before being pushed back by Karlach, “Hey little soldier! Look what I got you” She smiles placing the small stuff bear in your arms which you happily accepted. “Thank you” You whisper shyly hugging the bear. Shadowheart smiles as it was her turn. “I got you some pretty flowers and made a couple of bracelets, we both have one. “ She shows off hers and place the other next to Gale’s gift. Tav walks over smiling and crouched next to you and Astarion. “Mine…you’ll have to wait because I promise…I will take you back home” They pat your head. Upon hearing this, you gasp. “You mean it! I get to see my papa soon!” You sat up. 

Astarion leans back watching you interact happily with everyone, that fear gone. He chuckles seeing you yawn and rub your eyes. “Alright little spawn time for sleep.” He looks at the others shooing them away from his tent and picks you up, fixing the bedroll and lays down, holding you close. He wasn’t going to let you go through this alone, not on his watch. You’re his little spawn after all.

[theemporium]

Omg please I've been craving eastablished relationship sirius x fem!reader fluff I feel like i've read through the entire tag

What about rockstar!sirius who misses reader and is moping so james and remus set up a surprise and fly her out to a show and she's standing at the baracade and sirius sees her and like jumps off the stage to go to her?

i love rockstar!sirius my beloved<3 thank you for requesting!!

.

To be frank, Sirius Black had been insufferable for the last two months.

When the band had been touring around the UK and Europe, you were able to join them at most, if not all, shows. Sirius loved having you by his side, knowing that one of his favourite people on the planet was with him whilst he did something he loved. And you loved watching your boy thrive in his element. 

However, when the tour moved to North America, you were unable to follow. 

Despite his insistence that he had more than enough money to take care of you both (and let you be his full time favourite groupie), he knew how much your degree meant to you and he wouldn’t ever want you to drop your dreams when you supported his so much. So, you had stayed in the UK to continue your education. 

And Sirius was downright miserable with the distance between you.

Not that anyone would notice. To the world, Sirius Black was still going out on stage and performing like every show was his last. He was a rockstar through and through, and the world fell in love with him a little more with each performance. 

But to his bandmates? They had nothing but constant whining and complaining and moping that Sirius didn’t have his girl by his side. And, to be honest, James and Remus had reached their wit’s end. They could deal with a lot, but two months of it?

No. They knew they needed to do something.

It wasn’t hard to convince you at all to fly over and visit for a short leg of the North America tour. You had been just as miserable without your boy back home. The apartment felt empty without him. And his guitars were a little dusty, which was a sight you weren’t used to. And having one side of the bed constantly cold, with his scent long faded from the pillows, it was starting to take a toll on you.

You packed a bag and made your way to the airport without a second thought, landing in Michigan the day of their show. 

“This is ridiculous.”

Remus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s just a precaution.”

“Remus, you want me to get into a suitcase,” you deadpanned, wondering if the tour had finally driven him over the edge. “I am going to suffocate in there!”

“You won’t,” James reassured you with a bright grin. “We’ve done it plenty of times. Plus, it’s just until we can get you into the venue without fans seeing and spoiling the surprise.” 

And you knew he had a point. 

The boys didn’t just want to fly you over and throw you at Sirius. No, they wanted to surprise him, completely knock the air out of his lungs. They didn’t want some lame reunion in a hotel room before he was rushed off onto stage and you were forced to stand backstage until the set ended. 

Go big or go home, and the marauders always chose the former. 

It was why you agreed to get in the suitcase, staying in the cramped space until you reached the venue. It was why you agreed to wear the oversized hoodie, despite standing amongst the fans in the ridiculously hot crowd. It was why you agreed to keep your disguise up until the first few songs passed. 

And then, you threw the hood off your head and you gripped the edge of the barricade as you looked up at the stage, as you looked up at your boyfriend and took in the sight of him for the first time in two months. The tight trousers fitted around his thick thighs, the leather jacket exposing his bare and tattooed torso, the sweat gleaming like a thin layer on his skin and the messy black hair that you missed running your fingers through.

Fuck, you missed your boyfriend.

Sirius lifted his head to look away from his fretboard, his eyes on the crowd as he played the opening riff to the next song, only to stop short when he noticed a familiar face in the crowd. He blinked once, and then twice to make sure it was really you. And by that point, security couldn’t even stop him as he shrugged his guitar off and shoved it into the hands of whoever was closest to him before he hopped off the stage and made a beeline towards you. 

The crowd was going wild as they watched him, the cameras were capturing every moment but you couldn’t care less as Sirius made his way to the barricade, grabbing your face and smashing his lips against yours. It was sloppy, messy and a little desperate, and probably far too much with so many eyes on you but Sirius never really cared about any of that stuff anyways.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, love,” Sirius murmured before he leaned in for another kiss and another and another. And when that wasn’t enough, he all but dragged you over the barricade, grinning wildly when you clung onto him.

“Sirius!” you gasped, your legs wrapped around his waist as his hands rested on your ass.

“God, I missed hearing you scream my name,” he muttered, unable to wipe the smile off his face as he watched you flush at his comment.

“You have a show to perform,” you murmured, nodding your head towards the stage. “I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t,” Sirius told you. “C’mon, let’s go back to the tour bus—”

“Sirius,” you laughed, though there was a hint of warning in your voice which he recognised. “Show first, then sex.”

Sirius grinned cheekily. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” you smiled, leaning down and he pouted his expecting another kiss, only for your lips to brush against his ear instead. “Plus, I want us to have all the time in the world when you see the little surprise I got for you.”

Sirius gulped. “Surprise?” 

“Got ‘em done just before you left,” you told him and his spine straightened in realisation. “Should be healed enough for you to play with them.”

“Show me.”

“Sirius—”

“Baby, show me or so help me, I will lose my mind,” Sirius groaned. 

But you just laughed, patting his cheek as you told him there wasn’t a chance in the world you were going to flash your tits in front of everyone. He groaned as you began untangling yourself from him, making your way backstage where you would watch the rest of the show. Sirius glared at you and your stomach twisted in anticipation. 

“Good luck, baby! Knock ‘em dead!” 

.

[kentomilk]

ᴺᴬᴺᴬᴹᴵ ᴷᴱᴺᵀᴼ ᴵᴺ

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it seems there is never an activity too lackluster or intimate for this couple to find pleasure in each other's company with their busy lives.

husband!nanami kento x wife fem!reader.

catalogue. fluff, slice of life content, non-sorcery au/ non-curse, modern au, salaryman!kento, sick & soft kento, (1) mentions of praise kink. wc: 1.95k thea’s preamble. inspired by this incredible art, i must admit i look at this at least once a day. → ✨ also this is my first published work, it's a bit rough but hopefully with time it gets better. thank u for reading &lt;3

kento is a man of routine and order, we all knew that. he wakes up at a set time, kisses his beautiful sleeping wife, carries out his morning routine of showering and oral hygiene, dons his best suit, light breakfast, and is out the door by 8 AM. the evenings he returns home aren’t any less lax, whether he’s home at 6 PM on the dot or late by a few hours, he’ll always greet and kiss his beautiful wife, have dinner in his study whilst he continues more work while the lovely missus reads on the chaise or continues unfinished work of her own as well, then shower and oral hygiene, sleep. 

perhaps that was an oversimplification, but don’t be fooled one may think the man adopts and follows this lifestyle out of a need for security, financial or otherwise. or that he loves the unrelenting and perpetual cycle of working painstakingly 10-hour days, he certainly isn’t given highly-coveted tasks for being a slacker. he’s grateful for what the occupation provides, the salary and bonus that come with his overtime, to lavishly spoil his family, but that's all.

he has no ambition to climb the ladders that will put him in places he doesn't care to be, to rub elbows and kiss ass with scummy executives, leeches, and conceited thugs, only to trash talk and scheme against the moment he steps foot in his home.

all he asks is for saturdays and sundays, as they happen to be Kento’s favourite.

the days he has off from his draining 9-to-5, to be spent properly with his lovely wife. who was ever so patient with him, ever so supportive, and ever so his to love and cherish so as long as his body would allow him. even if his body was battered down to a pulp, he’d find alternatives as necessary, but let’s hope it never comes to that.

there would be times when not much would differ from the previous weekend, and well into the next, spent doing the same activities, or nothing at all. he never wanted to take for granted the time you spent together, and sometimes that meant not always making the most of those days, and he’s okay with that.

whether the two of you lazed in bed until the afternoon or spent a whole day cooking a feast completely from scratch, starters to dessert. visiting the farmers market to cook said feast, reading in your cozy home library, or even the sudden bouts of spring cleaning. 

there is always a welcome invite for spontaneity, a picnic under the stupendous aspen tree you simply adored at the local park. a quick overnight trip to a scenic and quaint town, whether your destination is reached by train, plane, automobile, or even boat. the occasional painting date has become a more frequent activity as of late. but there is one “special” activity that some might consider, unique. one that is relatively low cost, that is done from the comforts of your humble abode, that further advances the intimacy (according to kento), and is reserved solely for you, one that kento absolutely adored, shaving. 

usually, it was something he’d done alone after showers with either a rechargeable or disposable razor or by his barber when it came time for his bi-monthly hair trim. but recently it became a task that you’d undertake by kento’s request, sort of.

while you didn’t mind what would grow from a days of not shaving, he preferred maintaining a clean shave for the clean-cut classification for a man of his occupation, it also became supplemental to his hygiene routine that he grew to love.

it wasn’t something you saw often, kento so dishevelled with the most tragic undereye bags from the lack of sleep from what you’d think was months suffering from insomnia, condensed into a few days. a coarse stubble emerged from the days he’d spent in bed, and his nose was flushed with how often he’d been blowing it with the nearly empty box of tissues that was full just the night before. his eyes were dull and watering, a sight you truly hated. 

"honey, have you seen my hard drive?" he'd sorely asked for the 3rd time today, "it's in the laptop, kento." you called back, changing the towels in your bathroom.

he was delirious, with a runny nose and little to no comprehension of where he was or what day it was, thanks to the combination of flu medicine and kento’s determination to finish a work proposal whilst in bed, common sense would also call it overworking. despite your gentle commands that he needed rest, there was no triumph on your end, as duty calls. he was relentless, in his defense there was a conference that was meant to be held in person had it not been for his sudden ailment. though a live video conference was able to be arranged, owing to the urgency of the matter at hand. 

so you figured the fastest way to get the man back into bed was to help him complete this ordeal swiftly, that meant helping him in the shower, given his sore muscle ached. applying small dots of concealer under his eyes as to not bring attention to his fatigued face, deterring from the presentation at hand.

dressing him in his warmest wool suit, but only the upper half, kento was sound enough to know there was no need to abandon his fleecy Pompompurin pajama pants. the executives were only to see from the shoulders up after all. and lastly ridding him of a heavy five o'clock shadow that was speckled with smears of dried rice from the porridge you had made him earlier. 

“ok, that should be enough,” you whispered, carefully taking off the damp towel that no longer retained warmth, and squeezing out the shaving cream from the canister into your hand.

you proceed to spread the milky foam in a thin layer across the lower half of his face, letting out a soft chuckle at the finished outcome. you picked up the brand-new razor from the counter, puffing your cheeks and letting out a deep breath.

“i trust you.” kento whispered, his voice scratchy and hushed. 

you smiled in response, quietly informing him that you were starting. you crouched to his eye level, pulling his cheek upward with one hand, so the skin where you would shave would be taut. you intently watched his face as well as the area that you had just removed facial hair, making sure that there were no nicks or alter in his relaxed expression, verging on sleep. once you gained confirmation of such, you proceeded to shave the next row, and the next, working inwards towards his lips. 

rinsing the razor after each use, and wiping on a towel you had draped on the counter. though nerve-wracking for a first try, it had been executed well and was quite therapeutic. your eyes were attentive and your hands steady with every down stroke. as you continued to rinse and repeat, literally, you looked up into the bathroom mirror to see your husband rotating his head to view the work that had been done, then looking straight at you with a simple grin and tired eyes, asking what he thought so far.

“you’re doing so good, my love.” he plainly states, but those watery eyes said otherwise with an innuendo you couldn’t miss, in a singular eyebrow raise. stupid praise kink, you thought, looking him up and down, wondering how even in this state, where he acquired the audacity. it wasn’t long until the two of you burst into a fit of laughter, kento being cautious as to not rub off the shaving cream with one hand that covered his eyes as he leaned back in the chair. 

“what even are you.” you snickered, quickly calming yourself with the reminder of the razor in your hand.

you proceeded to shave, on the brink of completion, now focusing above his lip, where you took even more caution than you had before, due to the sensitivity of his skin in that area. opting to sit on his lap, nearly chest-to-chest with his sore arms that maintained enough strength to have a secure hold on you, even though your knees were bent, and your feet touched the heated floor effortlessly. 

a few stolen kisses on kento’s behalf, and nothing more than a restrained smile that he was fighting from getting any bigger as you finished the last few strokes. in his mind, it was anticipated that the minute kento finally got better, you were going to contract what he had afterward anyway. and in turn, he’d take care of you. 

so what's the harm in a few more kisses?

“so my dear husband, how would you like to start our weekend?” you asked, still cozily tucked under the blankets, looking at your husband who was similarly bundled under the toasty blankets, with your hand situated on top of his, placed gently on your cheek.

“well dear wife, it’s been days since i’ve last shaved.” he simpered, looking down at you with sly eyes.

it was something the both of you saw coming, once again he hadn’t been shaving for a while, but of course, it was deliberate. you softly laugh in response with your voice still heavy in slumber, “i’ll go get the facial steamer— in a few minutes, i want to savor every second of this vacation.” further burrowing yourself into his chest.

it had been a few months since the first time you had to shave kento’s while he was recovering, the proposal went flawlessly if you omit the booming sneezes that startled the executives even through the screen.

you had since made the switch to a straight blade like the ones you’d see used in old school barber shops, watching tutorials on methods exercised by professionals for efficiency and safety. 

invested in a proper kit that supplied everything you’d need. from shave oil, pre-shave oil, shave cream, a velvety brush to spread the lather, after-shave (which smelled phenomenal), and blade replacements.

it’s been even longer since his barber last gave him a proper shave after a haircut, and that time will only continue to be prolonged. he loved how close you’d be when focusing, but time after time you’d only grown to relax the tension in your muscles. you’d sit on his lap for more of the session, and those sessions would only go longer from the last.

where there would be conversation taking place about your lives, now and the future. sometimes there would be easy-listening music playing from the speakers that would lay the cornerstones of an “impromptu” dancing session, where kento’s hands would be politely placed on your lower back, and his hand strong in yours, waltzing all around your bathroom for what felt like forever.

he was shirtless, and truth be told a little chilly, and you were wearing an old shirt of his, to him you always looked beautiful. even though there was still plenty of shaving cream on his face, it would eventually be smeared on yours. there wasn’t much more he wanted in life.

if you ask him, any weekend is well-spent, even if you do spend the entirety of it in bed, painting beautiful sceneries, cooking your favourite dishes, dancing with ardour despite having taken one class on ballroom waltz, or you shaving his grown-out stubble. as long as you're by his side, nothing is ever a waste of time. that’s how it’s been, that’s how is it, and that’s how it’ll be.

and who knows, maybe next time kento will convince you to cut his hair.

[interactions] reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated ₊˚⊹♡

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Fic Recs | Vol 11

Hi friends!!

I've really outdone myself this week, folks. I read TWENTY SEVEN new fics (including three very long series) + a bunch of updates to WIPs I was already reading. That being said, I'm gonna sort these by character for you because it's a lot to scroll through.

If you're new here, these are all the fics I read this week (except series updates and unnamed drabbles) and my unhinged/unedited ramblings about them :)

You can find the full spreadsheet here, and you're always welcome to tag me in your fics <3

Fic recs below the Pedro <3

Din Djarin

Wherever You Stray, I Follow a one shot by @beskarandblasters

This is one of those fics that makes me genuinely pissed I'm not living in the Star Wars universe. Why can't I run away from an arranged marriage with my bodyguard who just so happens to be a very very handsome man in a suit of pure beskar? It's not fair.

Beskar Doll a series by @justagalwhowrites

Okay so I read 40+ chapters of this in TWO days. The story is so engaging?! Also we all know I love me some angst and the angst in this is so well done. It's believable, it's painful, it's excellent. I'm always hype for reader characters/FMC/OFC that are strong and capable (not that I have an issue with the damsel in distress fics either but...) I am obsessed with the reader/MC in this. She's so fucking cool and strong and AGH!!! There was no part of this where I was bored or wondered why the story went in a certain direction - it always made sense to me and I was completely engaged the whole time. That's pretty impressive for a long ass fic like this. I usually fall off after 20 or so chapters. Everyone should read this, tbh.

Significant a one shot by @softlyspector

AHHHH okay first of all, you gotta read the drabble first so you get a feel for the relationship. This was SO CUTE. I support every choice made in this fic. I don't want to spoil anything, but just know that I love the characterization and dialogue in this. I love how quickly I got sucked into the story and believed their relationship despite it only being 5k. I could kind of imagine a full series around this. It was sooooo cute UGH. (Look at me reading fluff, what's goin on).

Fix it a one shot by @jksprincess10

I love how you've barely written Din before (1 fic) and then you produce this. It's so fucking good. We get helmetless!Din without a fuckton of buildup and like I get that it's not the most realistic, but sometimes you just want Din Djarin to eat you out without 20 chapters of wondering what his face looks like or having to be in the dark. And the tattoos... nad... you gave him tattoos.... I'll pass out and die on the floor right now.

a little attention a one shot by @luckbealincoln

Din has a rough day (haha get it?) and reader knows just how to get rid of his pissy ass attitude. I love love love dom!Din so fucking much this is so hot PLEASE

Best Kept Secret a series by @lincolndjarin

Bodyguard!Din and princess!reader!!!!!!!!!!!! I love this trope so much. I expected the fic to be a little kitschy because I mean... it's a kitschy trope. And I love kitschy shit that's why I clicked on it... but guys! guys!! it's not!! This fic has so much depth, so much emotion. The little glimpses of Din's backstory, the depictions of mental health, that bastard Kodo, my beloved Elaine and Lysa... just... there's so much in this story that I adore. It feels fresh and interesting and it's heart wrenching and wonderful and sexy and....yeah read this one thanks.

Who do you belong to? a one shot by @beskarandblasters

HOT!!!!!!! Possessive!Din is so fucking hot. The smut is.... oh my lordt it is good.

Joel Miller

i can be your pretty girl a series by @walkintotheriveranddisappear

A little innocent reader/manipulative dbf!joel never hurt anyone, right? I fucking love this. And the subsequent part is... even better (worse? more depraved?).

Epiphany a one shot by @jksprincess10

This story hurts. It hits you right in the chest and takes the breath out of you. Worth the pain though. It's gorgeously done <3

I'll Do Anything a one shot by @beskarandblasters

I feel like I've seen some fics that are this trope but in reverse, where Joel is the one making reader pay with sex. I think I like this better tbh. Desperate, needy Joel is everything.

Seven a one shot by @proxima-writes

Starting with the dream was so fucking good! And I really like the choice to not make it a 1 to 1 direct recreation of the actual scene with Sarah. I loved the early interactions with Joel and reader so much. The library scene AHHH!!!! And then fast forwarding through the reallly good smut, the dream that's not a nightmare???? Are you kidding me??? genius. Reader still believing in beautiful things and making joel believe he deserves good things and oh my god just shoot me now this was adorable.

sensational a series by @sinsofsummers

I guess I was on an innocent reader kick this week idk. I love the buildup of the reader's background in this though. She feels like a real person and not just a vessel for actual reader to pretend we're virgins and Joel Miller is teaching us about sex. Like she is that, don't get me wrong, and I love it. But!! She's a real person, with feelings and a backstory and I am a slut for a good story with my smut. Okay and also Joel doesn't feel like a creep in this, which is a little hard to achieve given the premise. I really liked this and I hope we get more. (there's a part two, but like I'd read 10 parts of this are you kidding)

Desire a series by @toxic-seduction

Good ol' depraved smut. I haven't read one like this before!! And the follow up is just as yummy. Highly recommend if you're feeling a little freaky :)

Gimme What I Want a series by @atticrissfinch

Oh my god oh my GOD oh my god. This was so fucking hot?! And the little moments of humor too?! I love the format for this so much. And the attention to detail with the timestamps and everything!! And then part two... I was not prepared. God it was so hot. (and the lil bonus of Joel being awkward and adorable ughhhh). The blend of sexy and funny and a tad bit depraved and a tiny bit sweet... perfect.

Lavender a series by @justagalwhowrites

Hey, it's not nice to break people's hearts repeatedly. There are barely even words to describe this fic. The nanny trope to start out with, meaning that you get really really attached to Sarah and pre-outbreak Joel and you build up all these hopes and dreams for the two of them.... and then... (trying not to spoil things) Joel being a moron and then the outbreak of course and... I always want to know what happens in that 20 years between outbreak and Joel meeting Ellie. I really adore the way that canon content was blended with original content in a way that seems to make Joel's actions make even more sense than they do in canon. Doc is such a cool character also??? And oh my GOD Andrew and Jess... I seriously cannot explain how fucking perfect this is. I could read it forever. Like I hope you carry it on through season two when that comes out, it's that good. I would read 500 chapters of this.

Mine a one shot by @the-scandalorian

How does one write Porn Without Plot, anal at that, and make it profound? Apparently this way. How dare you make me feel anything but a little ashamed and lot horny about an ANAL FIC?! Are you a fucking WIZARD?! Anyway yeah y'all should read this one.

Stay here, honey a one shot by @swiftispunk

This is just porn but I was having that kind of day. dbf!joel + really high chance of getting caught PWP. Wonderful <3

What I need a one shot by @swiftispunk

knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink knife kink. Oh and also a lil bit of sweetness at the end. Yes please

Your Summer Dream a series by @swiftispunk

Look I've only read chapter one and I'm already in love. The set up is so good. Joel seems so sweet and charming and cool and HOT?!? Reader is about to win the rebound Jackpot for real. I'd be jealous if I wasn't,,,, ya know,,, the reader.

exile a one shot by @tieronecrush

Oh hey cool, thanks for hurting my feelings... just kidding you know I love angst. This was so gorgeously written. I love all the descriptions a lot. And also... I read a lot of joel/reader breakups where she just immediately crumbles and takes him back because like wouldn't we all? But I really like how you had her hesitate even though she's clearly miserable. At least one of us is emotionally mature enough to not dive headfirst back into a toxic relationship (couldn't be me).

Javier Peña

a pile of cards a one shot by @undercoverpena

There are very few things I love more than fluffy, soft!Javi Peña. That man has the capacity to be so sweet and caring and kind and loving and AHHHHHH. I really love the way this story is told. A story in birthdays for your birthday celebration... that's so fucking creative I love it. I just... I can't say enough about this fic. Read it!!

not here, not now a one shot by @gracieispunk

Reader gets in trouble with Javi and handcuffs are involved... I feel like I do not need to say more.

(Re)union with Elvis a one shot by @tieronecrush

I've read a lot of these lil accidental marriage fics, and this is one of my favorites so far. I loved getting to see them meet up sober, go through the whole night, experience the silly wedding, the mind blowing sex, and then the wakeup scene is actually so cute? I rarely see one of these without a defcon level freak out about the fact they got married. Imagine telling this story at your wedding? Like oh yeah we've actually already divorced each other and it was before we ever started dating.

Pero Tovar

Xìngjiāo a one shot by @absurdthirst

I finally watched The Great Wall and my literal first move after finishing it was to see if absurdthirst wrote a sex pollen fic for Tovar and she FUCKING DID!!!!! Gods I love sex pollen.

Pero Tovar and his Guerrera a series by @prolix-yuy

This lil loose fit series makes my heart sing. Pero being an idiot? Reader being a badass? Silly arrangement to be able to stay near each other without having to admit feelings? Finally admitting feelings??? Wrap me up in this story and bury me in it, thanks.

Dave York

Stormy Secrets a one shot by @absurdthirst

Kinda randomly got in the mood to read something fucked up and stumbled on this lovely Dave York fic. Murder daddy didn't let me down, this was EXCELLENT. Pretty much checked every box on the list of what I would kill to have Dave York do to me.

Just Your Average Suburban Couple a one shot by @absurdthirst

What if Murder Daddy had a Murder Wife? I know it's a hot take, but I love the fake dating trope so this is so fun for me. Add in badass reader, infidelity, murder, Dave York being soft (in his own way), domestic Dave, and possessive/jealous!Dave? Oh and of course delicious smut. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

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Do y'all prefer it sorted like this or was it fine the old way? This takes a little extra work, but it's not that bad.

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Happy Reading!

[livingfictional]

Hiya!!!

I just stumbled upon your blog, and you're match ups, I really like your content! :D I saw that your requests are open, and I thought I might as well request one! ^^

I would like to request a match up for COD and The Arcana. I am 19, female, and use she/they pronouns. I am also Pansexual (I don't have any gender preferences, we just gotta vibe and all is well✨️).

I really love listening to music and singing, I'm also an avid reader and have recently started down my path with practising witchcraft. I am not sure if this qualifies as a hobby, but I also enjoy taking my motorcycle out for a ride across the country whenever I have time (and money for gas 🥲). I do not do well in crowds or around loud and mentally draining people. Neither do I enjoy cooking because it, for some odd reason, drains me incredibly, baking on the other hand I enjoy thoroughly!

I speak English, German and Italian. My father is from Scotland🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 and my mother from Austria🇦🇹, I have an equally good connection with both sides of my relatives even though I am more in tune with my Austria side due to the fact that I grew up there.

I'm an INFP, I wouldn't call myself shy or skittish but I do struggle to build up relationships because of trust issues and fear of betrayal. I prefer a small circle of people around me, mostly calm and like minded people that know how to get me out of my shell. I'm also a big fan of animals and especially fond of dogs and cats (even though I'm allergic lol).

I hope that was enough info for a match-up! Have a wonderful day/night, Lily!✨️💜

Sorry you had to wait so long, thank you for your patience 🩵

I match you up with... Asra!

I genuinely think Asra would be the best choice for you.

Lazy mornings in the back of the shop. A mess of limbs tangled into the blankets as you slowly flip through the pages of your book.

Asra just lays there, watching your focused expression with a content smile. He could stare at you for hours. The shop won't run itself, though. Unfortunately.

He'll happily support your witchcraft journey, helping whenever possible. He grabs any and every book he thinks you might like.

Asra is one of the least draining people to be around, his company is always pleasurable. The atmosphere never feels heavy, and he can make the converation flow for hours on end. It always feels so natural and nice to be around him.

Might as well mention Faust, who fell in love with you just as Asra did. You can often find her perched up on your shoulders as you go about your day.

I match you up with... Soap!

Not an avid reader, doesn't always know what books to buy you. Just ask! He would buy the whole bookstore for you.

Johnny wants to spoil you, okay? He can be gone for long periods of time, and your books are the only thing keeping you company on cold winter evenings. So in his mind they are perfect gifts for you, might as well, with some help, get you one of those gift baskets with a fuzzy pair of socks, a blanket, some candy and books.

Before he has to leave, he will also take your bike and fill it up for you. Can't afford gas? Well, he can. Go for your ride sweetie :3

Slow evenings with him after he comes back from being deployed are the best. You guys are full after getting takeout from your favorite place, you've got a fire going in the fireplace and a random movie is playing on TV.

To be fair, you are not paying attention to it at all. You're brushing your fingers through his dark hair as he goes on about anything and everything.

Just as with Asra, conversations with Johnny are so natural to you, nothing ever feels forced. You guys can talk for hours and not get bored.

He can be more on the hyper side, but next to you, he can truly unwind. He will lie on top of you, placing his head over your heart.

[whumpbug]

Hi Bug, same anon who asked the horse questions --- first of all, thank you so much for the answers and I'm so glad I was able to inspire you!! I don't think you've talked about this yet but I was curious: What was Gene's mom like? I know she was killed by criminals and that event led to him becoming such an intensely strict deputy, so either she meant a whole lot to him or her death was just that traumatic. --- QUESTIONS - Well, first of all, what's her name? - What lasting affect did she have on Gene when she was alive? Did she teach him anything fundamental about life or morality that he still believes? Did she introduce him to anything that he's still passionate about? - Is there anything specific that Gene does in her memory and if so, when? On the anniversary of her death? Whenever it's her favorite weather? Every other day? Every morning? - Who, specifically, killed her (if you know)? - How old was Gene when she was killed and did he witness it himself? If so, does he remember it?

HI ANON IM SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU IN MY ASK BOX AGAIN!!!!! and once again you come with such amazing questions i am being so spoiled right now.

the short answer is that she meant a whole lot to him AND her death was that traumatic. but who's here for the short answer anyways

long post incoming. as always. I HOPE U ENJOY!

✮⋆˙

what's her name?

gene's mother's maiden name was Sylvia Mae LeBlanc.

she was a small, feisty woman from the deep south (louisiana) and you could tell right away from her accent. she was blonde, blue-eyed, and gorgeous. a real southern belle.

she met gene's father (who's name is clint) when she was just 17, and the two hit it off. they got married, and of course, she became sylvia delaney, and soon baby gene was born. the trouble was that sylvia's father did not like clint. clint was a rancher, and her father thought lowly of the profession. he refused to support them finacially. she ran away with clint and they struggled for quite a while, but they were determined. clint truly did love sylvia, but i don't think he was ever going to be ready to be a father. sylvia loved being a mother, but fatherhood scared clint. he never had a great relationship with gene to start, and it only got worse when sylvia died.

looks wise, gene got his bone structure from his father, but everything else is from his mama. he has her eyes, her hair, her mouth, even her nose. he was VERY blonde as a child.

✮⋆˙

what lasting affect did she have on gene when she was alive?

oh this is a loaded question and i LOVE it.

when he was little, he spent most of his time with his mom. being a rancher was a busy job, and clint didn't particularly care enough to make an effort to spend time with his kid, so gene and sylvia were very very close.

she taught him a lot about how to conduct himself. she was a southern girl, manners were VERY important to her. she'd be damned if gene didn't address everyone he met as sir or ma'am. she also was a big reader, and taught gene to read and write from just age 3. she read anything under the sun to him, and its part of the reason why he's generally considered very articulate. he still loves reading and it's one of his favorite pastimes.

she was also extremely progressive for her time. she taught him so much about how to respect people as a whole, no matter their race or gender or social class or anything. she just taught him empathy. it was a big help that gene was naturally just a sweet kid.

unfortunately for little gene, clint Did Not like this. he was obsessed with what it meant to "Be A Man" and didn't take kindly to seeing his son do things like carrying the paralyzed lamb to and from the water tin or crying after accidentally stepping on a butterfly. he saw gene as too soft from the get-go, and he made his disdain for it known.

it was a recurring argument for sylvia and clint.

still, sylvia wouldn't back down. when gene would sob after getting yelled at by clint or, worse, after being forced to go hunting at the age of 7, sylvia would hold him and rock with him and sing to him until he calmed down and tell him that its okay to cry. being gentle takes strength. the world needs more kindness like yours.

gene thinks about it very often.

✮⋆˙

is there anything specific that gene does in her memory and if so, when?

so, for starters, he visits her grave every year on the anniversary of her death. she was buried in louisiana-- she loved her home town and state. so every year, gene takes a train (haha. sorry gene.) down to visit his grandparents and aunts and cousins, but ultimately he leaves the family house to go to the cemetery and spends the day sitting by her grave and just. he just talks to her.

he talks to her like she's right there. he tells her about work, about the town shenanigans, more recently about cassidy (he talks a lot about cassidy. sylvia is looking down at him with an Eyebrow Raise.), really anything that comes to his mind. he sometimes falls asleep, head resting against her headstone, and wakes up to the sun settling below the horizon.

in terms of little practices he does, he makes his coffee a very specific way because of how she used to make it. he wears one of her rings on a chain around his neck. he has her accent, sometimes, when he's not thinking about it. he still has all his southern manners, he is respectful and kind, just like she wanted him to be, but sometimes it's drowned out by his father.

he also kept a bottle of her perfume. it smells of peach and vanilla and orange blossom. he sprays it on his pillow sometimes, when he really really misses her. those nights are always hard on him.

✮⋆˙

who, specifically, killed her (if you know)?

see this is where i have entertained different ideas. as of now, its just a random outlaw. just a random train robber that had no personal connection to gene.

however.

i have thought it could be interesting if the man was montana or someone associated with him. the timelines would (maybe) make sense, but i feel like it might also just complicate things too much. IDK. its just a little idea but for now, i'll say it was just an unspecific outlaw.

✮⋆˙

how old was gene when she was killed and did he witness it himself? if so, does he remember it?

oh boy.

cw: blood mention. slightly graphic description of death.

gene wishes he didn't remember. he really does.

she was killed on their way to visit louisiana. clint never went with them when they traveled because, again, being a rancher is a demanding profession and sylvia's family didn't take too kindly to him visiting anyways.

gene was 11 at the time. he was sitting in the train car with his mother, head resting on her shoulder, when he heard commotion coming from a few cars down.

then, the group of robbers breached their own car.

gene was petrified. he clung to his mama like a little boy, visibly shaking when they started making their way down the aisle. she whispered reassurances to him, that they would be okay, that they weren't going to give the bad men anything, that the sherriff would be there any minute.

when one of the men approached sylvia and gene, sylvia physically put herself between the man and her son. she was fesity. she wasn't going down without a fight, and she sure as hell wasn't going to give this man anything.

when she refused the first time, the man didn't shoot her. he simply murmured something to his the other outlaw beside him and turned back to sylvia, giving her a chance to reconsider. she didn't.

and then the gunshot rang out.

she got her right in the chest. it was a miracle that gene wasn't somehow hit too, as close as he was.

that was the moment the outlaws heard the shout of the lawmen, and turned tail on the job. but the damage had been done.

gene held his mama as she took her last breath. she didn't stand a chance. the bullet fired point blank into her left lung. she hardly lasted a few minutes. still, gene screamed. there was blood everywhere. on his face, on his clothes, on his hands.

he cried, he begged, he pleaded for someone, anyone to help him. to save his mama. but she didn't stand a chance.

i'd like to say that she had last words, some profound thing to say that gene could hold dear to him for the rest of his life, but she didn't she just gasped for air until she couldn't anymore.

gene remembers that day in vicious detail. he remembers what he was wearing, what she was wearing, what the man's eye color was. his memory goes fuzzy from the moment she died, though. he vaguely remembers being taken to a sherriffs office and being cleaned up with a handkerchief and being wrapped in a scratchy blanket. he remembers his father arriving, and it might have been the only time his father hugged him. it was certainly the only time he ever saw him cry.

his memory of the entire year after she died is choppy at best, nonexistent at worst. he began helping his father more at the farm, not because he wanted to spend more time with him, but because it gave him something to do. if he didn't have anything to do, he might've gone crazy.

unfortunately, and much to sylvia's dismay i'm sure, the experience hardened him. especially since he was around his father so much, he didn't allow himself to be seen as soft or gentle anymore. he got tougher, meaner, and more like his father.

its, in part, because he wonders if he had been just a little stronger on that day in the train, if he could have saved his mama. maybe if he had been quicker or more intimidating, he could have protected her like a "Real Man" should. but he'll never know. and that thought kills him.

✮⋆˙

GOD that got sad really fast. im sorry for the trauma gene. and i'm sorry for giving you another reason to hate trains cough cough @sethlost cough cough

JOKES ASIDE thank you so much for this question anon. i think by writing this all out, i have a much better grasp of gene as a person and the actual impact his mother had on him. this was such an important question and also SO fun to answer so thank you so much!!!!!

[interconnectedmatrix]

a type i error and sooo bitter!!

hello hello lovey!! <3

I'll begin with "sooo bitter" since the discussion around "type i error" is quite extensive, hehe...

For starters, "sooo bitter" is one of my few platonic works with the dateable characters! The plot is mostly about Asmodeus just kind of judging the reader's whole crush/love life. It is mostly comedic, focused on a friendship type scenario with a mix of "girl. girlypops. you can totes do better than THAT."

Idk, there's just something about a purely platonic relationship with Asmo that doesn't have an avenue for direct romance. And I kind of like the characterization that he isn't always 100% supportive of the reader/mc's decision.

So that's all for "sooo bitter"!! now...

"Oops! A Type I Error" ; aka the work that I am scared to publish.

One, Barbatos is one of my top three. Sometimes, he snags top 1 so effortlessly that I dive into an abyss full of Barbatos x MC ideas.

And this draft is interesting, since it follows a specific concept. The concept of committing a Type 1 Error - false positives. How there was an assumption that Barbatos doesn't seem to acknowledge the reader's near-obvious towards him.

Which comes some of my favourite sequence of events: The attempts. I won't yet specify what the reader does for each attempt to woo the renowned butler over buuut there are 3 tries. Like the 3 models to prove an experiment valid.

It's set in SWD! References to Season 2-3 ish but I took a LOT of creative liberties. It is not meant to follow canon, though I try not to shy away too much from the plot of the game.

And Barbatos. Oh boy. The man that you are. Since this fic heavily relies on the reader's perspective, we actually don't know what's going on in Barbi's mind for this one. Which just adds to the overall theme: working to find out more about his mysterious smile.

So now there's the thing: with these concepts, it's difficult to lay this out in a seamless manner to make all those attempts worth it. I have a fixed ending and start of the story, now all that's left is to fill out the inbetweem.

That's all as to not spoil much, but yeah!! Thank you thank you so much for asking!! <33

[bellofthemeadow]

The Road Ahead - ch 6 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

For most of your married life, you dedicated yourself to waiting for Frankie. After each deployment, you patiently awaited his return, longing for the moment when he would be by your side again. During those nights when nightmares consumed his thoughts, you yearned for him to open up to you, hoping that he would find solace in sharing his pain. And as his addiction spiraled out of control, you held onto the hope that he would recognize his problem and seek help. However, despite your countless protests and pleas, you now find yourself waiting for him once more as he ventures off to Colombia, engaged in God knows what.

But this time is different. Determined, you make a solemn promise to yourself: You will never wait for Frankie again.

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 9K (Sorry T.T)

Warning: Applicable for the entire fic / PTSD, drug use and addiction, postpartum depression, abusive familial relationships, self-hatred, unhealthy coping mechanism, explicit sexual content, violence, mentions of suicidal thoughts, super angsty

Chapter Summary: Summer without your husband. You don't know what to except for the months ahead with Frankie away in rehab, but you know you want to learn who you are again.

Notes: Hey everyone, thank you very much for the support for this fic, it means the world to me to see people liking, reblogging or commenting!!! This fic is approaching the end unfortunately, as much as I love these two together, it was always meant to be on the shorter side. Since its my first ever story, I wanted to see if I could stick to a story without my mind fizzling and apparently I can ! SO HURRAY! I am anticipating 1 more chapter and 1 long epilogue after this.

I've already started working on fic #2 and #3 and I will be posting the summaries/ series masterlists later tonight or tomorrow morning :) I was also thinking on opening a poll to ask which stories you guys want me to do first.

But in the meantime, hope you all enjoy this chapter !!!!

A Change of Season

MONTH 1 - JUNE

"Are you sure, Alma? I don't want to impose on you too much..." you ask hesitantly, internally hoping Alma will agree to your last-minute request.

"Nonsense, mija. It's my pleasure. You know how I always enjoy spending time with Estrelita, and it gives me a chance to spoil her rotten. Truly, it means the world to this old woman that you trust me to stay with your little Princesa." Alma responds warmly.

Relief washes over you as you let out a grateful sigh. "Thank you so, so much, Alma. I hate asking so last minute, but my boss just called me to cover this Saturday since I have to take Ella to get her shots today. And I know Ella would be thrilled to spend time with her favorite abuela.”

Alma Vargas Morales snorts angrily on the other end of the line. "I can't believe those pendejos would make you work over the weekend like that. As if baby shots could be re-scheduled like a nail appointment! I'm tempted to march over there and give them a piece of my mind!”

You can't help but let out a laugh, picturing Frankie's spirited 72-year-old mother storming into the Florida Community College library, grabbing your boss by the ear, and dressing him down loud enough for the dean of strudents to hear. You’d pay good money to see that. “But seriously, Alma, I can't express how much I appreciate this. You're a lifesaver.”

"And you are an amazing mother, mija..." You can hear Alma taking a deep breath on the other side of the line. "Not many women would have done what you have for your daughter and your husband."

"Alma..." you begin to interject, but she cuts you off.

"No, mija. Francisco was so out of line he couldn't even see the line anymore. I didn't raise my son to act like this, and you are way better than he deserves at the moment." Alma's words carry a mix of frustration and disappointment.

Alma takes another breath, her voice softening. "I love mi hijo, I nursed him, took care of him when he was sick, I saw him grow from a shy little boy into a handsome and self-assured man. But he was never really happy until he met you, mija. Now, es el momento de que Francisco se arrepienta de sus pecados." Her tone finishes somberly.

You're left speechless, both deeply moved and unsure by Alma's sudden outburst. The woman had always been strict but loving. When Frankie was young, they didn't have much. His father died young and without insurance, leaving Alma alone to raise Frankie and his two sisters. But Alma had done her best to provide for her three children and give them every opportunity she could.

Now, Frankie's younger sister followed in her mother's footsteps as a nurse, while the eldest had become an accountant before deciding to stay home with her own children. Alma was a strong woman whom you had always admired. When you first met her, she had looked at you for only a couple of seconds before grabbing you by the neck with her tiny yet stout stature, pulling you into a tight embrace. "Thank you for taking care of mi hijo, God knows that knucklehead needs it! Just like his dad, that one is! " she had whispered in your ear before releasing you and playfully swatting Frankie's head. "What the hell was that for?" Frankie had exclaimed.

"No decir groserías," Alma had answered, her gaze piercing Frankie. "That was for hiding this lovely girl all this time and for not minding your manners. You haven't even offered her anything to drink yet!" Frankie rubbed his head and muttered, "Esta es tu casa…"

"Qué dijiste Francisco?" Alma questioned sternly.

"Nada, Nada," Frankie quickly replied, trying to diffuse the situation.

Throughout the entire interaction between mother and son, you had held back your laughter. But as Frankie's cheeks turned pink, he made his way towards you, and you couldn't help but think that you would love to be a part of this family. Since that day, you had loved Alma, and she had become the mother figure you had never truly had in your life.

"Alma, whatever happens between Francisco and me will never have any repercussions on your relationship with Ella. I would never take her away from you or your family. Ella is a Morales, and you can see her whenever you want," you assure her.

On the other side of the line, you hear Alma's sniffles. "Maldito Francisco, eres un estúpido muchacho," Alma mutters, her voice filled with frustration. "Francisco has made a lot of mistakes, but the one thing he didn't mess up was marrying you, mija."

"Gracias, mama. I promise that whatever happens, Ella and I will always be there," you express sincerely.

"Gracias, mija," Alma replies warmly.

"Is it okay if I drop Ella on Saturday around 7:30 am? I have to be at the library by 8:15," you ask.

"Of course, es muy perfecto! I'll make my famous tostadas!" Alma responds enthusiastically, her excitement palpable.

You can't help but let out a laugh at Alma's enthusiasm. "Alma, you know that Ella is just 5 months old, right? She won't be able to taste your famous tostadas for a while yet."

Alma lets out a huff, acknowledging her oversight. "I got ahead of myself; I suppose."

"I'll pump some milk and have it ready for you in her bag," you suggest. After a brief pause, you add, "Will you call me to tell me how everything is going?"

You can hear Alma's affectionate tone as she responds, "Mija, I'll send you updates every hour on your phone, with those messages things you kids always send each other. You don't have to worry. I've raised three babies, and they all reached adulthood, although some have made questionable decisions."

"Thank you so much, Alma. I really appreciate it," you express gratefully, feeling a sense of relief knowing that Ella will be in capable and loving hands.

"ESTRELLA MORALES!" The loud voice of the tall brunette clad in blue scrubs resonates through the large waiting room.

"Sorry, mama, I have to go. It's Ella's turn," you whisper urgently into the phone.

"Te quiero, mija. I will see you tomorrow morning."

Quickly, you close your phone and grab the stroller where Ella is peacefully napping. Gathering your belongings, you ensure that everything is in order before hurrying after the nurse. As she leads you into a smaller room, she introduces herself. "My name is Coral, and I'll be administering the vaccines for little Ella today," she says, reaching for the files on her desk. "I see she is here for the DTaP-IPV-Hib vaccine. It shouldn't take too long."

Coral glances inside the stroller where Ella has woken up from her nap and is looking around anxiously. "Well, isn't she a cutie? Hello, baby," Coral greets Ella warmly, taking out a bright pink rattle and shaking it in front of her. Ella responds with a delighted laugh, momentarily distracted from the unfamiliar surroundings.

"All right, mama, I'm going to need you to hold your baby while I give her the shots. She won't like it, as few babies do, but I'll be as quick as possible," Coral informs you, her professional demeanour evident. She briefly scans the page of Ella's file before her eyes narrow slightly. "I also wanted to confirm something with you. I only see one signature on the parental form, but there is a Francisco Morales listed on Ella's file. Should we be made aware of a change in the files?"

Your heart drops at the insinuation, and a mix of emotions floods over you. "Frankie... I mean, Francisco is Ella's father," you explain, your voice tinged with a touch of defensiveness. "He is currently unable to sign off on the documents due to personal reasons, but I promise he is 100% supportive of every medical decision I make for Ella."

You realize that you're frantically trying to justify yourself to this stranger, feeling the weight of judgment and the need to ensure that Ella's well-being is understood. Coral looks back at you, then at the file, before letting out a sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to trick you," she begins, her voice filled with a mix of empathy and professional concern. "But as medical professionals, we have a responsibility to ensure that the environment at home is safe for Estrella. You understand what I'm saying.” The mere mention of home safety sends a chill down your spine, the silent threat of involving CPS clear in Coral’s tone.

With a knot forming in your stomach, you gather your thoughts and respond cautiously, your voice betraying a hint of fear. "Yes, I understand," you manage to say, trying to keep your composure. "I assure you that Estrella's home environment is safe and loving. We prioritize her well-being above everything else, and we take every precaution to provide her with a secure and nurturing space. My husband is just… unavailable right now.”

Coral glances back at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processes your response. "As you say," she acknowledges, her tone carrying a hint of reservation. However, her sunny disposition quickly resurfaces, and a warm smile returns to her face. "All right then," she says, her voice brightening. "Shall we proceed with this little shot?”

MONTH 2 - JULY

You sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun on one of the only free benches in front of the library building. With a tomato sandwich in one hand, you type a message to Mrs. Hu, asking about Ella's day so far. Almost immediately, Mrs. Hu responds by sending you an adorable picture of Ella on her belly, reaching for her favourite cat plushy, a big orange thing with oversized ears and fuzzy white paws. It melts your heart, and for the 100th time, you can’t help but be amazed at the wonderful being your love with Frankie created.

Frankie... Oh, Frankie. Today feels bittersweet, as on the one hand, you hadn’t thought of him too much, but on the other hand, you felt guilty because you hadn’t thought of him that much. Some days are almost unbearable, as your mind becomes entangled with memories of… memories of everything before it all went to hell. You replay moments: the goods, the less-than goods and everything in between. But still, all these moments were what made you and Frankie a team, a partnership. It was a life you built together. Still, you couldn’t help but question your actions and wonder if anything could have prevented the events that unfolded over the last two months.

Yet, dwelling on these thoughts only serves to torment you further. Now when these thoughts surface, you try your best to follow the guidance of your new therapist. You try to let the memories wash over you like rain on an umbrella, try to let them come, accept them without letting yourself be ruled by them. But they persist, stubbornly clinging to every corner of your mind. It's a difficult battle, and despite your earnest efforts, grief and longing persistently infiltrate both your waking hours and restless nights. The weight of it all hangs heavily in the air, casting a sad shadow over your life. You yearn for a bit of reprieve from the ceaseless ache that Frankie's absence has left behind. But today is a good day. So far.

The blaring alarm on your phone abruptly interrupts your lunch break, signalling that it's time to return to work. Hastily cramming the last remnants of your sandwich into your mouth, you briskly make your way toward the imposing building. Upon reaching the entrance, you make your way to the help desk, where you settle down and begin reviewing emails and addressing various queries from staff and students.

As you open the first email, which seems to be part of an infinite pile (how is this possible after just half an hour?), your attention is diverted by the approaching figure of the library director. A distinguished-looking older man, his hair hangs in wispy white strands, lending him an air of wisdom. His tweed suit, more reminiscent of academia at Oxford than the sunny locale of Florida, accentuates his scholarly aura.

"Sweetheart, do you mind coming into my office?" You can't help but cringe at the nickname. You've never been fond of the nickname. You were initially uncomfortable but later learned from Roberta, another librarian who looked like she was born between the bookshelves, that he addresses everyone this way. Annoying and reductive, perhaps, but ultimately benign. And honestly, apart from the cringeworthy calling, Director Robertson is an amicable presence with no noteworthy complaints.

"Of course, Mr. Robertson. Would you like me to come in now?" "Yes, please," he says, his fingers delicately twirling his long mustache, "I know you've just returned from your lunch break, so I presume you haven't embarked on any new tasks yet." Captivated momentarily by the whimsical sight of his mustache dance, you acquiesce and rise from your desk before placing a sign that reads "Keep reading - Be back in 15 min." Trotting diligently behind your boss, you traverse the expanse of the library, guided by the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the windows. Finally, you arrive at his office nestled at the rear of the building, granting an enchanting vista overlooking a courtyard where students are rushing to their next classes.

Director Robertson gestures toward the plush, cushioned chair positioned in front of his grand wooden desk, silently inviting you to take a seat. With a touch of unease, you settle into the chair, your hands nervously intertwining in your lap. There's something about Director Robertson's stern grandfatherly demeanour that always makes you feel like a scolded child in his presence. Seeking solace, you follow the advice of your therapist, taking a deep breath and counting silently (1-2-3), before releasing it slowly, allowing the tension to dissipate. Untangling your hands, you place them gingerly on the armrests of the chair. After all, sometimes you have to "fake it till you make it," right?

"What can I do for you, Director?" you inquire, maintaining a composed facade despite the underlying nervousness.

"AH! That's what I appreciate about you, dear!" Director Robertson exclaims with a hint of enthusiasm. "You don't beat around the bush, and you don't try to kiss my ass like everyone else around here!" His words, while somewhat brash, sound genuine.

"I am glad to hear it, sir..." You respond, feeling a sense of perplexity. The sudden shift in conversation catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily lost.

"How is that little girl of yours? Your little baby, right? How old is she now?" Director Robertson inquires, a touch of warmth underlying his words.

"Ella, sir. She's just about 5 months old," you answer, a fondness evident in your voice as you think of your daughter.

"Still so young! Ah, well, you still have a couple of years before she becomes unbearable. I've had 5 of those, my dear, and let me tell you, it doesn't get easier," Director Robertson responds with jovial teasing, his words laced with a sense of seasoned experience.

"Right, well hopefully I'll survive the tween years unscathed," you respond, trying to match Director Robertson's teasing tone.

Director Robertson bursts into a hearty, full-bellied laugh, his amusement filling the room. He reaches inside his desk, retrieving an official-looking letter. "Do you know what this is, dear?" he asks, a gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

"I'm afraid not," you reply, your throat suddenly dry with anticipation.

"This is a job offer that the University of Florida sent me last week for the directorial position in their library," he reveals. Your heart skips a beat. The University of Florida—the dream institution. Positions like that were nearly non-existent, as it seemed their librarians were born and died at their posts, passing the torch down the line.

"That's amazing, sir! You must be really happy," you exclaim, genuine excitement resonating in your voice.

"Well, I declined the offer," Director Robertson confesses nonchalantly, his words causing a mixture of surprise and confusion to wash over you.

"Oh, but why? The University of Florida has some of the best facilities in the state, and the salary must be significantly better than what we have here. And the access to all those books—it must be incredible!" You can't help but let your tone drift into wistfulness, envisioning the possibilities.

"I'm sure it is, but I'm reaching a certain age, and I promised my wife that we'd retire in her family's home in Capua," Director Robertson explains, a hint of nostalgia colouring his words. "Let me tell you, deary, I'll take Capua, Italy over the University of Florida any day. And you know what they say: 'Happy wife, happy life,'" he playfully scrunches his nose. "Make sure your husband remembers that dear," he adds, teasingly.

A heavy rock settles in your belly at his words, but you manage to smile through it. "I'll make sure to remind him," you reply, masking any personal turmoil beneath a veneer of cheerfulness.

"You better. Men sometimes need a good whack on their head to remind them that they would be nothing without their wives," Director Robertson remarks, his fingers fidgeting with his mustache once again, as if deep in thought.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure I understand why I'm here," you ask, your uncertainty evident. The words hang in the air, seemingly snapping the older man back into focus. His pale blue eyes settle on you before a secretive smile graces his face.

"Because when I said no, I recommended you for the job, my dear," he reveals, his voice carrying a sense of pride and hidden intentions. Your heart stops, the revelation jolting you with disbelief.

"You... You... You did what?!" you stammer, your voice escalating into a screech. Heat surges through your body, from head to toe, as a mix of shock and astonishment overwhelms you.

"Deary, you've been here for how long? Seven years? And in those seven years, you've completely revamped this library," Director Robertson calmly begins. "All the programs you added for the students have made this place thrive. The faculty-based librarian assistance program was a stroke of genius if I may say so. And the digitalization of our database was an incredible achievement that completely propelled us into the 21st century."

He pauses, allowing his words to sink in. "There was no one I would have felt comfortable recommending, as it is my name on the line. But you, my dear, I know that you have the capacity to make anything your own and make it shine."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, the realization of the immense opportunity dawning upon you. Director Robertson's faith in your abilities washes over you, mingling with the heat that had consumed you moments ago.

"Now, you don't have to accept, of course," Director Robertson remarks, his tone understanding. "The university is about an hour's drive from here, so it would be quite the commute. But it would come with a hefty pay raise." With a swift motion, he slides the papers across the desk, urging you to take a look.

You turn the papers over, and your eyes widen as you see the figures before you. An 8 followed by another 8, followed by a series of zeros that threaten to make you faint. It's more than double your current salary, a staggering amount that fills your mind with all the possibilities that would come with such a raise. "That's... That's a substantial amount of money," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. The weight of the figure displayed on the paper sends a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Indeed, deary, indeed," Director Robertson affirms, his voice filled with a sense of reassurance and pride.

"I can't believe it; I don't know how to express my gratitude. Sir, I am so incredibly thankful for this opportunity!" you exclaim, a mixture of excitement and nerves coursing through you. "Should I send an email to someone? Who should I reach out to? Should I prepare for an interview? Oh my god, what about my work here?”

Director Robertson's smile remains warm and comforting. "Please, don't worry about your current work here. I have every confidence that Jocelyn will step up and shoulder her fair share of responsibilities. As for the university, they already have all your information and will soon send you a comprehensive email with all the necessary details. At this stage, any interview would primarily be a formality, as I know without a doubt that you will excel.”

You rise to your feet and extend your hand towards Director Robertson, gripping his hand firmly. "I promise, sir, I won't let you down. I will do my best to be deserving of the trust you have placed in me," you affirm with determination, your voice filled with gratitude.

Director Robertson's eyes soften even further, reflecting a genuine warmth. He clasps your small hand in his wrinkled, larger ones. "There's no need to worry about any of that, my dear. Just go out there, impress them, and let your radiant spirit shine like the sun," he kindly encourages,

Tears well up in your eyes, and with a small, trembling voice, you squeak, "Would it be too presumptuous to ask for a hug, sir?"

Director Robertson's kind smile widens, and he extends his arms, inviting you into an embrace. As he wraps his arms around you, you inhale the comforting scent of old cotton and pines, a fragrance that exudes reassurance and kindness. "Thank you for everything, sir," you murmur, your voice filled with gratitude.

"You deserve every bit of it, my dear. I don't think you fully understand the immense potential that resides within you. If you could truly see it for yourself, you would be unstoppable," Director Robertson assures you, his words resonating deep within your being.

Unstoppable. The word dances in your mind. You like the sound of that.

MONTH 3 – AUGUST

“Estrelita, my little love, I wish I could give you the biggest hug in the whole wide world. Even though Papa is away, please know that you're always on his mind. Let me tell you my all-time favorite story, the one your abuela used to tell your tias and me when we couldn't sleep. It's called "El Conejo y el Coyote," and it starts like this; Una vez el coyote se encontró a un conejito y le dijo….”

Frankie's voice fades as he skillfully imitates the rabbit and the coyote on the recording. Ella seems entranced by the story, yet unsure to hear her papa's voice without seeing him there. You've developed the habit of playing the recording at least once a day for Ella, so she can always be close to her papa, even when he's away. And if you're completely honest with yourself, you also play it for you. Even after all this time, hearing Frankie's voice still makes the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

Frankie's letter remains unopened on your bedside table. You haven't been able to open it yet. You don't know if you will. As much as you miss Frankie and hope he's doing well in rehab, you still don't know what you'll do when he leaves at the end of next month. You know he'll be allowed visitors as of next week, marking three whole months he's been there. But you don't know if you should go if you're completely honest with yourself. You know Ella has to go, that's not even a debate. But should you?

Alma is also unsure if you should go, stating that with your new job and the new hours, you should focus on yourself and Ella. She kindly offered to bring Ella with her when she goes for his weekly allotted visitation time. You might take her up on that offer.

Frankie's voice comes to a stop, signalling that the story is over, and Ella appears heartbroken. You notice her bottom lip flutter angrily, and her face turns red. Unable to resist, you chuckle and say, "Don't get mad peanut. Do you want to listen to your papa's story again?" With a smile, you walk over to the recorder and press rewind, filling the air with Frankie's voice once more. Ella's clapping and happy expression from her playpen make your smile widen.

Currently, she is nestled on a mountain of soft pillows, engrossed in playing with the play gym you got her when the rattle lost its appeal 3 weeks ago. It's hard to believe she's already in her sixth month—time has flown by, and she has grown so quickly. The thought nearly brings tears to your eyes. Ella is determinedly reaching for one of the planets hanging from the chord, but her little arms fall just short of grasping it. You laugh at her expression of determination, reminding you of Frankie and his own determined expression when he was working on revamping an old beat-up mustang, he got at a garage sale.

However, your thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a rapid succession of knocks at your door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"Coming!" you bellow loudly, making your way toward the door.

You open the door and are greeted with Benny's grinning face, in one hand holding a 6-pack of beers and in the other holding a toolbox. You roll your eyes and say, "You didn't have to bring anything, Benny. You're helping me, so I should provide the beer."

Benny smiles and replies, "Don't worry about it, sunshine. I had to make sure the good stuff would be here."

Teasingly, you inquire, "Are you doubting my beer selection, Benny?"

He lets out a laugh and says, "Nah, not you. Just Fish. You know he drinks that watered-down piss that passes for beer. I had to make sure there'd be something with more substance available."

"You're such an idiot, and you know I have tools, right? Frankie's got the locker full of them."

You scratch your head in embarrassment and continue, "I just don't know how to use them, that's all."

Benny laughs and says, "I can't in good conscience use another man's tools. Those things are like sacred, you know? Can't go around and mess up Fish's system or whatever."

You look at the large toolbox and see the name "W. Miller" written in large white letters on the front. You snort, "So that's why you took Will's tools?"

Benny's ear turns slightly pink as he responds, "He's my brother, everything that’s his, is mine or whatever."

You roll your eyes playfully, "All right, well, can I offer you one of the beers you brought then?"

Benny replies, "Nah, not right now, sunshine. I've got to be on my A-game to fix your shit. Where is it, anyway?"

You lead Benny toward the bathroom, where the fan is closed. Flicking one of the two switches, a loud groaning noise emanates from the top of the shower.

"The fan is busted. Now when I take a shower, I turn the whole place into a sauna. And I'm getting a bit afraid that mold or mushrooms are going to appear, you know? The landlord said he was going to fix it, but it's been 3 weeks with no answers. If Frankie were here, he would..."

You stop yourself, not wanting to finish the sentence.

"Anyway, I told the landlord that if he provided the materials, I'd fix it, and here we are."

Benny smiles and says, "Shouldn't be too hard. Are you ready to play assistant contractor, Sunshine?"

You snort and reply, "Sure, boss. Lead the way."

Benny puts the toolbox next to the sink and goes to inspect the damage. You hover around the door, keeping an eye on Ella who is still in the same position as earlier, now listening to Frankie tell a story about two volcanoes who fall in love. The scene brings a smile to your face.

"Hey, assistant, before I get started, do you mind shutting down the electricity for the bathroom, so I don't become Toasted Benny?" Benny asks. You nod and reply, "Sure, give me a sec." Making your way to the electrical box, you turn off the power in the bathroom. On your return, you quickly check on Ella, who is still determined to grab the hanging planet. You smile and give her nose a tiny kiss before making your way back inside the bathroom.

"All closed, Ben," you inform him. Benny responds, "Awesome. Can you grab me one of the adjustable wrenches? It should be on the top of the box. I'll just take out the old fan, disconnect the wiring, and fit the new fan inside. Should be all done in an hour."

You nod and pick up what looks like a wrench, though you're about 73% sure it's the right one. You ask, "Is this okay?" Benny extends his hand and says, "Yep, all good. Give it here." You place the wrench in Benny's hand, and he smiles at you, saying, "See, you aren't so hopeless. By the end of today, you're going to be the best assistant contractor in Florida."

You smile at Benny's puppy-like excitement and reply, "Sure, Ben, sure."

You watch Benny diligently work on the fan, removing the old moldy contraption. He lets out a whistle at the sight and exclaims, "Fuck, when was that thing installed? The fucking Stone Age?"

"Pretty sure caves weren't equipped with centralized electricity," you quip back. Benny looks down from his elevated position on top of the bathtub and retorts, "Ha. Ha. Ha, aren't you clever." You give him a broad smile and reply, "I know, right?!"

"Why don't you be clever over there and throw that old fan away," Benny suggests. You nod and reach for the old fan, making your way toward the bin. As you do, you hear Benny shout after you, "Make sure to bring back the new one!" You roll your eyes playfully and respond, "I'm not that clueless, Benny!" A loud chuckle echoes from the bathroom as you head to the counter where the shiny new fan awaits. Your eyes briefly glance at Ella, and...

"BENNY, BENNY, COME HERE QUICKLY!"

You hear a commotion coming from the bathroom as Benny stumbles out, panicked. "What?! What's wrong?!?!" he exclaims. You simply point to the living room carpet, your eyes filled with happy tears. "Look!!!" you say, barely able to contain your excitement.

Benny follows your gaze and looks down to see Ella on her belly, attempting to crawl toward the coffee table where the recording of Frankie has stopped playing. You urgently shake Benny's arm. "Quick, quick, grab your phone!!! Oh my god, she's never crawled before, Ben!!! I have to film this. Quickly, my phone is in the bedroom, grab yours!!!"

Benny's eyes widen with a mixture of astonishment and joy. Without wasting a second, he retrieves his phone from his pocket and opens the camera “Go to her! I’ll be your own cameraman!!!”

You smile warmly and swiftly make your way to Ella, crouching down next to the coffee table as she momentarily pauses in her crawling. She looks up at you with tired yet determined eyes. "Come on, my little peanut, you're almost there!" you cheer, feeling a surge of pride and excitement. In the background, Benny chimes in with a playful exclamation, "Let's go, Ella! Show them who's the best fucking baby in the world!"

You shoot Benny a disapproving look, and he responds with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Sunshine, I'm just...so excited!" he says, his words stumbling out of his mouth. Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to Ella. "Come on, peanut, you've got this!" you encourage her, your voice filled with loving adoration.

Ella's determined expression, so much like Frankie's, reappears on her face as she resumes her crawling. Benny and you continue to shout words of encouragement, your voices filled with excitement and pride, as she inches closer and closer to her destination.

Finally, Ella reaches the coffee table, and without hesitation, you bend down to grab her, gently scooping her into your arms. Overwhelmed with joy, you give her a crushing hug, unable to contain the immense love and pride you feel in that moment.

"You did so good, baby. Mama is so, so proud of you!" you whisper, your voice filled with pride. With a tender smile, you softly nuzzle your nose against Ella's. Ella coos happily in response, her little sounds of joy filling the air and further melting your heart.

You bring your face up and turn towards Benny, who is still holding the camera, a hopeful look in your eyes. "Did you catch all that, Ben? Wasn't she absolutely amazing?" you ask, eager to hear his response. Benny's face lights up with his signature megawatt smile, and he exclaims, "SHE WAS GREAT!!! Ella, you are just like a shooting shining star!!!”

Benny continues, his excitement contagious. "Now, proud mama, you got anything to say to the camera?" he prompts. With a radiant smile, you twirl around, holding Ella close to your heart. "Only that I've got the bestest little peanut in the whole world!" you declare with overflowing love and pride. Ella lets out a happy squeal in response, and the sound of Benny's laughter echoes in the background.

MONTH FOUR – SEPTEMBER

Frankie found himself seated at one of the picnic tables outside, overlooking the tranquil man-made pond in the rehab facility's backyard. Nervously fidgeting with his fingers, he’s been reflecting all morning on the past three and a half months he’s spent here. His mother had eagerly awaited the fourth month when visitations were permitted. However, Frankie had approached the session coordinator and asked for a delay in visits. Despite his deep desire to see his mother, sisters, daughter, brothers, and… You, he didn't feel emotionally prepared for it. Not yet.

The day before September 1st, Frankie had experienced a crippling panic attack that left him completely incapacitated. The following morning, he gathered the courage to stride into the office of the head therapist. Once there, Frankie had explained to him that he needed more time before he would be able to face anyone. Dr. Stevens had smiled and told Frankie how proud he was that he was finally setting boundaries and acknowledging his limits. If there was on thing Frankie’s time in the rehab had taught him, it was the value of recognizing his own needs, a lesson he had never truly internalized during his years in the army. He had become so accustomed to unquestioningly following orders, regardless of the harm they inflicted on him, that he had forgotten that he needed to care for himself and listened to his needs sometimes.

During therapy sessions, Dr. Stevens had emphasized the significance of listening to Frankie's own desires and engaging in introspection. The therapist pointed out that, by consistently ignoring his own wants, Frankie's inner turmoil found an outlet through self-destructive behaviours. Dr. Stevens believed that if Frankie started paying attention to his own needs and delved deeper into self-reflection, the compulsion to numb his pain with cocaine might gradually diminish, even if only minimally.

Frankie sighed heavily, his hand sweeping across his face as he noticed a mother duck leading her adorable ducklings across the serene lake. These past few months had undoubtedly been the most challenging period he had ever faced, and Frankie had been shot multiple times before. So that’s saying something. Confronting the stark contrast between the person he believed himself to be and the person he had become, all while battling intense withdrawal symptoms, had left him feeling lethargic during the initial weeks.

Throughout his life, Frankie had always viewed himself as a provider, a dependable man on whom others could rely. Memories flooded his mind, particularly the day his father passed away when Frankie was just a young boy. He vividly recalled how, the day before his father's death, the man he had admired for his strength and dedication to his family had called upon ten-year-old Frankie. "Francisco," his father had spoken with pain, surrounded by the incessant beeping of medical equipment, "I need you to take care of your mother and sisters when I'm gone. You will be the man of the house, and it's your responsibility to look after those you love."

Frankie had internalized those words and earnestly tried to fulfill his father's wishes, caring for his mother, sisters, and eventually you and Ella. However, in the end, he felt that he had failed spectacularly. When he confessed these deep fears to Dr. Stevens, a wave of vulnerability washed over him, tears streaming down his face. The older therapist regarded Frankie with a sympathetic expression, moving closer and offering a tissue.

"You haven't failed anyone, Francisco," Dr. Stevens reassured him, gently patting his back. "Yes, you've made mistakes, but now you are making the right choices and striving to make amends. You don't have to live up to any expectations or face external pressures alone. Your focus should be on taking each day as it comes. As long as you care for your wife and your little girl, it will be enough. I am certain that if they were here, they would tell you the same."

Then, Dr. Stevens had Frankie make lists. A list of the things he was most afraid of:

Loosing you and Ella for good

Seeing his brothers die

His mother never forgiving him

Dying before he could see Ella grow up

Not being the man, his father wanted him to be.

Then a list of all those he had hurt,

You and Ella, the two persons cherished the most.

Ben, Will and Pope, the brothers who counted on him and whom he let down.

His mother who didn’t raise him to be what he his today

Tom, whose life was lost due to the choices he made.

Himself himself

Then a list of all he regretted

Lying to you, betraying your trust.

Bringing drugs home, staining the sanctity of the home you built together

Taking your love for granted, failing to appreciate you.

Keeping himself closed off, unable to fully express his emotions.

Shooting first Causing Tom’s death

After finishing the lists, Frankie was instructed to go back to his room and engage and reflect on what he had written. Left alone with his thoughts, Frankie delved into the profound weight of his past actions and the far-reaching consequences they had on the people in his life.

Even though it was incredibly tough, Frankie drew strength from imagining you and Ella right there with him, offering unwavering support. Your smiles and hopeful expressions fueled his determination when he felt overwhelmed and tempted to give up.

Frankie knew how crucial it was to take his recovery seriously. He understood that unless he fully committed to it, the chances of winning you back would dwindle. But it wasn't just the fear of losing you that pushed him forward. Deep down, he genuinely wanted to change. He wanted to be a better man, not just for you but also for himself. He didn't want to be that scared and dishonest boy anymore.

Frankie was well aware of the pain he had caused you, and he acknowledged that the drugs were only a fragment of the larger issue. He understood that his actions stemmed from a deeper problem — his reluctance to open up and reveal the parts of himself he found most fearful and repulsive. The mere thought of you looking at him with disgust in your eyes was unbearable to him.

Deep down, Frankie knew that such concerns were unfounded. He knew that you would never judge him for his past or hold his mistakes against him. However, fear and self-hatred have a way of distorting one's thoughts and leading to irrational behaviour. Frankie recognized the irrationality of his actions and the influence fear and self-doubt had over his decisions.

But Frankie was learning. He was slowly coming to terms with the fact that his fears and self-judgment were hindering his progress. He began to realize that the path to healing required vulnerability and trust, especially in his relationship with you. Overcoming his own insecurities and learning to open up was a crucial step towards rebuilding the trust he had broken.

For Frankie and you to have a chance at reuniting, he understood the importance of treating you as an equal partner, rather than just his wife in need of protection. Opening up and being honest with you were crucial steps he needed to take. In the group therapy sessions, the topic of his treatment towards you had come up, and one woman in particular, Ronnie, didn't hold back in expressing her opinion. She bluntly stated that if she were in your position, she would have swiftly shown Frankie the door, recounting her own experience with an ex-husband who had been a taciturn statue throughout their short-lived marriage.

Ronnie's words struck a nerve with Frankie, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He felt raw and tender. But he could only acknowledge that she had a valid point. He had failed to communicate and share his thoughts and emotions with you, and that had taken a toll on your relationship.

Dr. Stevens had attempted to calm the group, but the impact of Ronnie's words lingered within Frankie for a couple of days afterward. Frankie had no choice but to confront the truth of how his behaviour had affected you and how he had fallen short of being the partner you deserved.

Frankie's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a firm clap on his back, drawing his attention away from the peaceful pond. Frankie's face lit up with genuine joy when he catches the blue eyes of Will looking back at him.

"Will! Man, it's so good to see you!" Frankie exclaims, rising from his seat to embrace his friend in a tight hug. "How have you been, brother?"

"Good, good. Same old routine—VA visits, giving speeches, and keeping Benny out of trouble," Will replies, "Oh, and I might have met someone special," he adds, a playful grin on his face.

Frankie's face lit up even more. "That's fantastic, Will! I'm really happy for you," he exclaims, gesturing for his friend to take a seat on the opposite side of the picnic table. "This spot gives you the best view of this place," Frankie remarks, pointing towards the serene pond and the ducks swimming on its surface.

Will settles into the seat with a contented smile. "I can see why," he replies, appreciating the calm scene. His eyes then shifted to Frankie, noticing a change in his friend's demeanour. "You look good, Fish. Actually, better than I've seen you in a while," Will remarks, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

Frankie's expression softens, gratitude filling his gaze. "Thanks, Will. I feel good too," he confesses, a mix of relief and newfound understanding in his voice. "Being here has given me the time and space to confront things I wasn't ready to face about myself. I wish I had done it sooner, instead of being so stubborn. It was the best thing I could have done for myself and for them," he explains.

Will's smile widens, expressing his genuine happiness for his friend. "I'm glad to hear it, Fish," he replies warmly.

As the two friends catch up, their conversation started to delve into the time they had spent apart. Frankie eagerly sharing his experiences in group therapy and the progress he had made with his personal therapist. He spoke openly about the challenges he faced during the initial month of withdrawal, recounting the intense loneliness that had enveloped him during that period.

Frankie's voice grew heavier as he broached the topic of guilt surrounding Tom's death. Will's gaze turned serious, his eyes locked onto Frankie's, conveying a sense of understanding and empathy. With a firm conviction in his voice, Will interrupted Frankie's self-blame.

"None, and I mean it, Fish," Will asserts, his words laced with sincerity. "None of what happened in Colombia was your fault. We all had a part to play in those circumstances, and you don't have to shoulder that burden alone, alright?"

Tears welled up in Frankie's eyes as he nodded, his voice trembling with gratitude. "Thank you, Will," he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. "I needed to hear that, to be reminded that I'm not alone in this. It means the world to me."

Will reaches out and places a comforting hand on Frankie's shoulder, offering both physical and emotional support. "You never have to face this journey alone, Fish," Will assures him, his voice filled with unwavering loyalty. "We're in this together, and I'll always be here for you."

A brief pause hung in the air as Frankie's gaze shifted to the side, a touch of melancholy crossing his face. He mustered the courage to ask the question that had been weighing on his mind, his voice tinged with longing. "Did you see my wife and Ella while I was away... How... How are they doing?"

Will's smile softens, his own eyes wandering toward the ducks in the distance. "They seemed well," he replies. "Ella grew like a weed, you know. And your lady, she's doing great. Got herself a new job with better pay. I could tell she was really proud of it."

Frankie closes his eyes, allowing the words to wash over him. For a fleeting moment, guilt threatens to seep in—the guilt of not being there by your side. But just as quickly, it dissipates, replaced by an overwhelming sense of love and admiration for you and the strides you were making while he focuses on his own journey of healing. "A promotion, huh? She's so smart. I can't wait to tell her how happy I am for her," he whispers. A spark of excitement flickers within him. "Did you guys celebrate? Because I can organize something once I'm out."

Will's smile broadens. "We thought we'd wait for you, but we did take her and Ella to Outback Steakhouse," he reveals. "Is she planning to visit before you leave?"

"I'll be out in two weeks, and Mama is coming with Ella next week, but I think it's best if we wait until I'm out," Frankie explains, his voice tinged with a mix of longing and practicality.

"That's fair," Will nods understandingly. "She seems well, Fish, but I can tell she's lonely. She looks like she misses you."

Frankie's eyes brim with tender determination, "She could never miss me as much as I miss her and Ella. This time here has made me realize how fortunate I am and how close I came to squandering it all. I'll never make that mistake again, Will, believe me."

A twinkle appears in Will's eyes as he reaches for his back pocket. "Wait, I have something for you," he said, pulling out his phone and opening the camera app. He scrolls through a collection of pictures; some he had taken himself and others that you had sent to him. "These are for you. Your lady wanted to make sure you knew they were doing all right."

As Frankie continues scrolling through the photo albums, he was greeted by a plethora of precious moments captured between you and Ella. Each image held its own story, showcasing the love and joy that radiated from your little family. In some pictures, you cradled Ella in your arms, your eyes filled with tenderness. Other photos focused solely on Ella, capturing her adorable expressions and mischievous nature. And then there were the silly selfies—the ones that always brought a smile to Frankie's face. They were the ones you both loved to take, capturing the candid, carefree moments of your lives.

There were morning snapshots, featuring tousled bedheads and tired smiles, Ella playfully blowing raspberries at the camera. Other pictures overflowed with warmth and sunshine, showcasing the adventures you embarked on during the summer. Ella in her tiny bathing suit, her chubby fingers clutching a plush cat toy. You and Ella wearing matching sundresses adorned with elephants, holding a basket full of produce from the farmer’s market. Frankie's heart swells as he sees an image of you delicately feeding Ella a small bite of ice cream.

Tears well up in Frankie's eyes—a mixture of longing and joy. Joy because he is so grateful to see you both thriving and creating beautiful memories. Sadness because he has missed out on these precious moments. As he continues scrolling, he stumbles on a video. With a quick double-tap, he initiates the playback, and your voice resonates from the phone's speakers.

"Come on, quickly, take out your camera..." your voice echoes, filled with excitement.

"Fish, wait a second, you should turn that off," Will's voice interjects, attempting to grab the phone.

But Frankie evades him, his body turning towards the lake, his back to Will. His heart yearns to hear your voice, to immerse himself in the presence of the family he deeply misses. The camera comes into focus, and there you are crouched next to the coffee table with Ella... Is she crawling?! Frankie's heart tightens as he watches his little Estrelita grow up right before his eyes, slowly making her way toward you.

And then he hears it, a voice echoing through the phone, "Go to her! I'll be your personal cameraman!!!" It's Benny's voice and Frankie's body tenses in response. The video continues, capturing your shouts of encouragement to Ella, and even Benny's voice cheering, "Let's go, Ella! Show them who's the best fucking baby in the world!"

Frankie catches your disapproving look at the camera, and Benny offering a sheepish apology. Sunshine. Benny called you sunshine. But it's just Benny being Benny, right? It has to be. Benny would never... he couldn't possibly… Do that. But deep down, Frankie can't help his mind from wandering into unsettling territory.

The video plays on, but Frankie's focus wavers. He can't seem to see anything else on the screen. And then, finally, Ella reaches you, and Frankie is jolted from his daze by your scream of excitement. Suddenly, a cold shock washes over him as he hears Benny's voice again, "Now, proud mama, you got anything to say to the camera?"

Your radiant smile is directed at Benny; Ella's happy satisfied face is all for Benny—it's all too much. He isn't there. But Benny is. Benny is there. Frankie can feel himself spiralling.

The phone is snatched from his hands, and Will sits down next to Frankie, gripping his shoulder firmly. "Benny was just there that day to fix the fan in the bathroom, it was all just circumstances, I promise you," Will reassures him. Frankie's voice trembles as he responds, "The fan was broken? And I wasn't there to fix it. But Benny was."

"No!" Will's voice booms with determination. "Don't go down that road, Fish. Understand? There's nothing going on between your lady and Benny. You've made incredible progress these past few months, and I'll be damned if you let yourself fall into another dark place. I wasn't there last time, but this time, I'm right here with you!"

Frankie's mind whispers, "Maybe it would be easier if I didn't come back. She has a new job, and Ella seems well. They'd probably be better off without me." He looks down at the ground, feeling his hands twist anxiously.

"Are you kidding me?!" Will exclaims. "Frankie, these girls love you more than anything in this world. If you leave, they'd be shattered. You're not thinking straight right now. Remember why you made that recording? So that Ella wouldn’t forget your voice. Fish, you knew you'd miss a lot of things by being here. But look, today you've been telling me how much progress you've made, how you're ready to open up and communicate better with your lady. With us. Well, let me introduce you to a new concept: trust. You need to trust that she would never do anything to hurt you. And you need to trust that Benny would never betray his own brother like that, okay?" Frankie takes a deep breath, absorbing Will's words.

“You are right. Of course, you are right. Sorry for freaking out like that.”

"It's all right. Are you really okay though?" Will's voice is filled with genuine concern.

Frankie's mind balks. Is he really… Okay? He doesn't have a definite answer. The old Frankie would have brushed it off, assuring Will that he was fine and that he didn’t care that Benny was seemingly playing house with you and Ella. Then he’d go snort a line in the bathroom to take the edge off.

"I don't know, Will. I don't know if I'll ever be all right." Frankie puts his head in his hands, feeling the weight of his emotions bearing down on him. Will places a reassuring hand on Frankie's upper back. "Then we'll take it one day at a time.”

One day at a time. Just 14 more days until he sees you and Ella again. Only 14 days until you decide if you want him back. Just 14 days until he must confront the consequences of his actions and the pain, he caused you over the past few years. Those 14 days stretch before him, both seemingly endless and surprisingly close. Is he truly ready? The honest answer is, he doesn't know.

Next chapter

[cyaino]

Omg I pulled an all nighter reading your fic, it’s SO good!? I remember reading through the first chapter thinking how amazingly floored I was, then I was completely sucked in entirely. Oh the comforts of my bed, a day off from work/school, enjoying an amazing Star Wars fic is the best way to re-energize.

I love love this fic so so much: How you fleshed out different characters that I could tell apart their traits for who they are—you giving each character their own spot light to shine and balancing out their interactions with other characters—it makes the world feel more lived in and lively: Obiwan being a sweetheart, Ahsoka being her silly self, even making more OCs up with Emma!!!, etc., how there’s actual support for/from other women characters (makes me so sad whenever anakin fics paint Padmé as just an obstacle), the writing style is such a wonderful mix of gorgeous, serious tone settings and also humor (I can’t count how many times I giggled and kicked my feet with what transpired), and I just LOVE the first few chapters so much with the plot of language barrier. I think it’s such a compelling story arc where the characterization is only through physical movements and tone; forced to be in the same helpless state as the Reader being confused about the newness of it all—the misunderstandings, the desperation finding different methods to communicate, body language/facial expressions. SO SO GOOD!!! AND YOU STILL PORTRAYED THEM SO WELL!!!

The plot is so interesting too with how much mystery shrouds—I came up already with so many theories of why things are happening/how they’ll end (really hyping myself up for Anakin/Padmé/Reader endgame); I won’t add it though cause this ask is already so long/don’t wanna accidentally spoil newcomers T_T but I love when fics work out storylines in a multidimensional way with it’s varying complexities of “what is going on…”

Chpt 12 was so beautiful too with how you described the setting of the foliage and lighting, ooooh I am living within your fic!!

I can’t wait to see more of your future chapters and where you’ll lead the story—I’m so so excited (for more horrors Reader will face LMAO) 💗

Btw! Do you have any fav Star Wars x Reader fic recs (LOL recs autocorrected to Rex’s)

AAAAAA omg i had to read this like four times cos i kept getting flustered, thank you for such lovely long messages <3 I always come back to these when I'm feeling lost while writing

It's hard to talk about without spoiling because I have so much planned out already, but it's so cool to see reactions as things develop. i need to write faster so I can babble about things that haven't been revealed yet

I'm particularly excited to develop the love triangle (more of a web tbh) and see people's reactions.

I'm so happy that the mystery is coming across too! It's so hard to balance the right amount of clues without being too vague or too forward ;; This is my first multi chapter fic, so I'm learning as I go, but it's been a lot of fun :D

Unfortunately I haven't been in the fandom very long, so I don't have any recs but i'll try to post about them when I do !

Again thank youu, sorry I take forever to respond, I'm a busy-adhd-bee but i appreciate it so much <3

[sotwk]

Random ask hour! Which of your OCs is your favorite to write about & why?

Hi Callon! Thank you for this thoughtful Ask and the opportunity to talk about my OCs! <3

It's a bit sad/embarrassing, but I haven't written about my OCs (either fics or headcanons) nearly as much as I ought to, because I still struggle with fear of rejection. I just can't shake the voice in my head saying stuff like "no one wants to hear about OCs"; "only canons will get interest"; or "reader inserts will get more likes, so just do that". This creates a lot of conflict in me as a writer, because my OCs are where I find most creative joy. I returned to fanfic writing and came to Tumblr with the goal and intention of sharing my prized LOTR OCs--Thranduil's family.

Yet I'm still struggling to build up the confidence to do so! Even with all the lovely friends cheering me on!

All that being said, the OC I would love to write more about--and also am the shyest and most nervous about--is my Elvenqueen, Queen Maereth, mother of Thranduil's five sons. Every Thranduil writer has their own version of his beloved wife (even multiple ones!), so why should anyone care to read about mine?? (says the Negative Nancy in my head.)

Gif made and gifted by @arrthurpendragon (Thank you again!)

I have TONS of fully-formed info about her, all of which are just sitting in my Notes Document waiting to be written into stories. I hesitate to "spoil" them by revealing them in headcanons, because I am still hoping I can get readers to enjoy my planned fics about her long, epic love story with Thranduil. I like to think she's actually a very interesting lady.

Some of these "secrets" about Elvenqueen Maereth include:

What exactly is her lineage? Which of the Sons of Feanor does she descend from?

If she is Noldor, does she have a Quenyan name?

Who are her famous canon relatives?

Why did she reject Thranduil's marriage proposals?

How did she become so friendly with the Dwarven Kings of Khazad-dûm?

Does she have special "powers"?

What's the deal with her color-shifting eyes?

I am itching to answer all of these questions and more--I just wish I could find the time, energy, courage, and motivation to do it!

I will continue to try! <3 Thank you as always for your support, @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog!

[cherryslyce]

CHERRYYYYYYYY omggggg!!!!!!!!!!

I can’t believe you’ve done it! Honestly what an incredible story you’ve put together for us all. Every single chapter has been written so beautifully, so well paced, so engaging, you can really see all the time and effort you put into all of it.

I can’t believe it’s actually done! I’m still on the edge of my seat to see what the epilogue has for us of course but the way you’ve ended it here is so satisfying! I’m so so glad you kept Fred and my Remus alive I rly don’t know what I’d do without them lol. And finally having reg and the reader say they love each other AND a kiss?! We truly are spoiled!

Seriously though you should be so proud of yourself for this story, it’s absolutely one of my favourite fanfics of all time (and I’ve read a lot lol). I’m definitely going to come back and re-read it all at one point. Thank you for your amazing writing!!!! <3

My loveeeee!!!!

I honestly can't believe I finished the series LOL, I've never had the commitment for a long work like Second Son. But thank you so much for your love and support <333, I honestly could not have done it without you <33. Your kind words have been a key motivator for me, and I'm so honored to have been able to write this story for everyone <33.

The epilogue will definitely be an adventure to write, and I'm already getting misty-eyed thinking about the end!! I always knew that Fred would live in the end, but Remus was kind of a coin toss (Snape was a definitive death though)! Luckily, my soft heart won out, and both of them get to continue their journeys <3. Regulus and Reader kissing (TWICE) was definitely a process to write because I am very much a newbie when it comes to tooth-rotting affection haha. I'm so glad that you enjoyed it all though!!

I'm so touched by your words, and it's so baffling to me that people actually really like this story (this honestly feels like a dream LOL). Thank you again for your kindness and love, I look forward to seeing you at the epilogue, lovely <3333!!

[reginarubie]

Ma'am....excuse me Ma'am. I'm just gonna say thankyou for breaking my heart with the epilogue 😭

Okay I have so many questions!!!

1. Will Jon come back in time as well?

2. Are we going to see what will happen in the future now as they've won the long night?

3.Alright apart from aemondsa im really interested about how the Starks will continue/go about as Sansa is dead in that timeline or is she🧐?

4.Does Jon have romantic feelings for Sansa or was only protective about her as a brother?

Ughhh as a jonsa first and foremost my heart is really going through emotions I can't describe 😭

But nevertheless thankyou for blessing the Sansa fandom with your beautiful,innovative,mind blowing creations Queen 👑

Thankyou thankyou thankyou and looking forward to new updates 🥰

Ciao @beautifuldelusionfun ❤️

As the Jonsa Hag, I have to say this epilogue broke my heart as well.

I’ll try to reply as throughoutly as I can without spoilerin’ too much:

We’ll see more of the Starklings, yes, especially in the third instalment of the trilogy ( I cannot spoil Jon’s part to play also because it’s a pivotal point of part III)

I’m afraid we won’t see much of that future, as with Sansa remaining in the past, the future changed — maybe irrevocably — and thus the world they were in before started to fade as Jon himself felt the world around them fading. Which will make the future uncertain for anyone who reads the story.

Kinds of link up to question 2) and I can’t say much more to avoid spoilering the whole plot of the story.

Does he? This question will be answered in the coming instalments, still… I am mainly a Jonsa writer am I not?

Thank you so much, I am happy you enjoy my creations for the fandom, and really I could not have done it without you readers unfailing support and love, for which I am immensely grateful!

Don’t ya worry, I’ll keep posting Firesteel content even in the days I am not updating the sequel, and I will be soon back on my Jonsa agenda, though now I wanna focus on the BrandonxAvaelya AU in hope to add a sequel (you guessed it, it’s going to have Jonsa).

Thank you for your love and support! It means more that I can say!

As always sending all my love ~G.