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heartandfangs · 1 year

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NOT IF IT'S YOU— PART ONE.

GENRE University AU, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Angst, Smut, Fluff

PAIRING Nerd!Heeseung x f!Reader

WARNINGS 18+ ONLY MDNI, Jealousy, Cursing, Making out, Arguing, Anxiety, Depression, Flirting, Mentions of food, Brief violence, Brief mention of alcohol, Brief mention of somnophilia, Crying (all sorts), Degradation, Breast worship, Multiple Orgasms, Squirting, Coming untouched, Heavy spit play, Light BDSM, Edging, Spanking, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Dry humping, Praise kink, First-time blow job, Ball sucking, Fingering, Cum eating, Ear licking, Biting, Public Sex, Light bondage, Dom!Heeseung, Brattysub!FemMC, Sub!Heeseung, Softdom!FemMC, Other OC’s

SUMMARY Befriending a nerd who wants nothing to do with you in a coding class you want absolutely nothing to do with becomes the challenge of the semester— and you’re determined to ace that shit no matter what. WORD COUNT 29k (Fic Total)

AUTHOR’S NOTE Long time no see— it’s P, the romantic at heart! This one’s for the people who play otome games, whose favorite spot on campus is the library, and who are afraid to be loved but want to love as hard as they possibly can.

Enjoy my contribution to the tropey Uni AU genre! Also wtf thank you for 1k followers (If you’re a minor please unfollow me. Idc if that puts me way back under. If you’re not, thank you, and stay tuned bc I will do something to celebrate… once I get through 6 months worth of notifications rip)

See end of part two for author’s note cont.

Masterlist, Part Two

“Have you ever gotten the random urge to give someone a blow job?”

You lifted your head from your notes, eyes wide and scrutinizing. Why did your friend have to be so damn loud in the library, of all places?

A scoff barely escaped your mouth before you dived back into your textbook, “There’s not a person with a dick on this university campus that deserves one from me. Why? Have you?”

“All the time, but especially when I’m on my period,” Rin confessed, “Hormones.”

“Oh, I bet.”

I don’t know how Rin finds the time to think about these things…

Your friend pouted while drumming her pencil against the communal library table as if she could hear your judgemental thoughts. There were more important things for you to worry about, clearly.

You sighed as you began to pack up your backpack to catch your most dreaded class of the semester, coding.

It was an elective you immediately regretted taking, but you swore to yourself to see it through to expand your skill set. Unfortunately, it was just a week into the semester, and the horrid feeling that you would fail a class for the first time was way too real.

Rin continued to spew nonsense, “Maybe I should check this dating app—”

You slung your backpack over your shoulder and ruffled Rin’s hair on your way to the elevators, “You are a slut, aren’t you?”

“Please stop acting like you’re not,” Rin rolled her eyes and raised her voice just enough to carry over the bookshelves and be heard by unsuspecting students, “There’s only so many otome games one can play!”

“Shhh!” You hissed at her to shut up, eyes shooting daggers at the snickering girl.

She must’ve been spying on you every time you pulled out your phone to take a break. What did she have against your little games? After your first relationship went up in flames, they were a pretty decent replacement for dating and soon became an addictive hobby.

They were great time-killers, required minimum commitments, and had a plethora of eye candy to choose from. Even if you did screw up, you just needed to wait a few days to replenish your lives. Plus, they all fit in your pocket…

And they could never break your heart like your ex had.

‘I’m gonna kill you’, You mouthed at her over your shoulder while slamming your fist against the elevator button.

Rin tapped her lips with her middle finger and sent you a flying kiss. Deep down, she hoped you’d come across a sweet boy for your own good.

While you stared at the colored lines of code on the monitor in front of you, determined to at least figure out how to embed one damn photo onto your website for tomorrow’s critique, your silent tablemate on your left tapped away at his keyboard with ease.

Everything about the guy screamed overachiever; it was 45 minutes after class had ended, and he was still working away on his project after everyone else had left.

Meanwhile, you were pretending to know what you were doing by typing in some random characters and then immediately deleting them. Being the anxiety-ridden person you were, you managed to work up a nervous sweat, your palms going numb.

Fuck, this is embarrassing. I should just leave and figure it out once I get home.

The student next to you didn’t seem to have any issues, but then again, the course you enrolled in was actually a combined class with different levels, and clearly, this wasn’t his first course in the subject. It was definitely an odd curriculum; you weren’t sure why you hadn’t read the class description more thoroughly.

“Hi! Mind if I sit here?” You asked the student earlier upon seeing the closest open seat available.

The boy didn’t say hello, he merely spared you a glance, adjusted his glasses, then resumed the staring contest with his computer screen.

“Okay…” You said with a touch of annoyance in your tone. His eyes barely shifted to your face in response, and then he was back to typing.

His standoffish attitude from the moment you walked into the class and took the closest open seat next to him irked you more than it should’ve.

It wasn’t until you sat down next to him that you were thrown off by how big the guy actually was, but even more so, the faint scent of sweet lavender wafting off of him. You weren't sure whether it was cologne or detergent, just that it somewhat reminded you of your favorite macaron flavor.

How unexpected. Well, that ruins it, you thought.

Even if the guy smelled pretty damn nice, he was snooty in your book. If he didn’t have such an aloof attitude about him, you might’ve befriended him just to reach out for notes in the class in case you got sick.

Rin often called you a prideful bitch, and you’d brush off her accusations, but deep down, you knew her words had some weight to them. Prideful was a fair adjective; your strong desire to handle your own business kept others at bay, which was great for someone like you who liked to be left to your own devices.

Though pride paired with stubbornness wasn’t necessarily the most beneficial combination when finding oneself in a pinch…

Nearly two hours of the class begrudgingly swept by, and you were still stuck on the initial steps, your brain utterly confused by the jumble of lines and coding rules you had to adhere to. It was a huge struggle to keep up with the pace the professor taught, let alone ensure the material stuck in your brain.

It also didn’t help that the boy next to you had the audacity to pull up a window of manga on the side to read while you were struggling your ass off.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed at him.

Now, the class was well over, and you still managed to convince yourself to stay even though the shit your professor covered in lecture went in through one ear and out the other.

After such a long day of stacked classes, your facade slipped, and you dropped your head into your hands. If you were honest, some of your pride slipped along with it. Since you were so busy, the last meal you had eaten was yesterday’s dinner, and you were starving. There were tons of other class assignments you hadn’t even touched yet.

You bit your lip and watched the boy out of the corner of your eye, debating for a solid minute if you should ask for help. At this point, you were just wasting precious time that could be spent running to the nearest McDonald's for a burger.

In the name of efficiency, you decided to reach out for help from the person you least wanted to ask— but just this once.

“Hey. Could you show me how to add an image to my site? I can’t figure it out even though I tried to follow the directions….”

First, you saw the boy’s brown eyes widen ever so slightly before he looked over you in consideration.

If he says no, I guess I’ll go fuck myself.

“Sure.”

Oh.

Feeling your heart flood with relief, you replied gratefully, “Thank you.”

You were taken aback when you watched him slide off his chair and drop to his knees by your side. He leaned over the edge of the table to take control of your mouse and keyboard, his attention fixed on the debauched code on your screen.

Really, you two could’ve just switched seats, but you decided to let him do his thing while you tucked your hands under your thighs and watched. Your brain was beyond trying to make sense of what he was inputting into your code.

Funnily enough, the silence between you two was even more awkward than it had been before you spoke to each other. Still, you refrained from distracting him, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

After a minute, you decided to check him out instead.

Your eyes shifted between the computer screen and his calm, concentrated features since you hadn’t really gotten a good look at him before.

His black, wispy bangs hung just over his dark eyes, and his circular, silver-rimmed glasses sort of amplified their roundness. They held a touch of naïveté in them– but when you looked at him from the side, they were sharpened due to focus.

Admittedly, he had the softest-looking set of lips, the kind that anyone would easily be jealous of. The slope of his nose was just as cute, to your annoyance.

Your eyes trailed downwards to the pronounced curve of his throat, but just for a moment before returning your attention to the screen of code.

He was attractive in an unexpected sort of way.

It actually was kind of sweet that he’d be willing to kneel on the questionable floor of the computer lab to help you out. You wondered if he was trying to make up for ignoring you at the beginning of class.

“Is this the photo you want to add?” He hovered the mouse over the recent file in your downloads folder.

“Yeah.”

You must’ve really fucked up your code because the slowest five minutes passed before he clicked save on your program, and most of it you spent trying to act like you hadn’t been staring at him every other second.

The boy finally stood up with the slightest groan, and to your dismay, the sound went straight between your thighs.

Woah there.

“Try refreshing that,” He instructed while rubbing at his kneecaps through his jeans.

With the click of a mouse, you refreshed the program to see a jpg of your favorite Shrek meme pop up on your otherwise bare-bones-looking website.

“Wow— it actually works. Thank you,” You were unable to help yourself from beaming up at him, rather impressed at his efficiency.

He merely nodded, averting his eyes.

Was he older than you or younger? Did he work on the weekends? Have a significant other? A myriad of ridiculous questions bombarded your mind.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

That was a good, normal place to start.

“Heeseung,” he stretched his arms over his head and winced at the slightest crick of his shoulder. All your eyes could focus on were the sharp lines of his waist peeking out under the edge of his sweatshirt.

You introduced yourself as casually as you could, “My name’s ___. This really isn’t my thing, so thank you.”

“Anytime,” He said simply, rubbing at the back of his neck.

In a flash of a second, the shameless part of your mind dared to imagine how that shy expression of his might twist into one of pleasure— how his breathy sighs would fill your ears while he was hunched over, bracing himself on the table. At the same time, you pictured yourself between his long legs, mouthing kisses over his bulge, watching him twitch above you all the while.

‘Who’s the slut now?’ You could already hear Rin’s ridiculous comments; she must’ve poisoned your brain with the thought.

Feeling yourself starting to go slightly demented from the turn of events, you excused yourself and threw your supplies into your backpack to leave as quickly as you could, entirely oblivious to how Heeseung stared after you on your way out.

Heeseung meant it when he said, ‘anytime.’

From that day on, there wasn’t an instance where he didn’t hesitate to help when you asked him for it. Each day, you grew less and less hesitant to ask him for assistance which was… interesting.

What was even more unbelievable was that he never asked for anything in return, and you were so grateful, so smitten by him. The assignments you received were absolutely distressing, yet Heeseung didn’t appear to resent your requests and was always more than willing to lend you a hand. Based on your life experience, that was far from normal.

There was a question that you just had to ask a few weeks into the semester when he was helping you work on one of your projects for the nth time.

“Honestly, do you like doing this?”

Heeseung leaned back in his chair and appeared contemplative while stretching his wrists. “No. Coding is a tedious process, but if you’re referring to helping you,” He looked at you with an earnest gleam in his eyes and gave you a small smile, “Yes, I really like helping you.”

It was the first time you felt your heart skip in a while.

Right then and there, you could’ve dropped to your knees and let him use your mouth however he pleased. Fuck everyone else in the class; you would’ve done it.

On a serious note, it was unfortunate that you had nothing to offer him of value in the class.

Your creative mind worked so differently, and you two didn’t share any other classes you could help him with. So you often tried to make up for it by conversing and attempting to get to know him.

Emphasis on attempt.

The downside to your interactions was that he rarely engaged with you on the occasion, even when you tried to initiate a casual conversation with him.

“What are you always reading during class?” You glanced over at his screen curiously one day.

Heeseung was always quick to minimize the extra window when you caught him. “Nothing much, just manga. Need something?”

“What? I— No, I was just wondering,” You’d quirk a brow at him, and he’d return to his task.

Every time you came into class and took the same seat next to him, you’d greet him, and he’d greet you in return but left it at that. After assisting you with an issue, he’d always quietly turn back to his computer and pick up where he left off. Maybe you’d be able to get in a question or two, but he hardly talked up a storm.

Even when you probed him about his life, Heeseung merely gave short replies or shook off your questions. He was so difficult to get to know and apparently didn’t care to hold a conversation with you outside of coding. Still, you were insistent because you were a relatively private individual yourself. Really, you tried to understand where he was coming from.

“I’m so glad I don’t have classes after this,” a yawn escaped your lips as you covered your mouth with your hand.

Heeseung’s typing never ceased, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You stared at his profile, waiting to see if he’d continue the conversation. After a second too long of waiting, you asked, “Do you have any night classes?”

“I don’t. I have work.”

You perked up in your seat. “Oh? Where at?”

“I’m actually about to change jobs, so it really doesn’t matter,” Heeseung responded curtly.

You sank back into your chair. “Oh. Sorry.”

He turned to look at you as if to say something, an apologetic expression nearly taking hold of his features, but he seemingly held himself back and returned to his work.

Still, within the coming weeks, you grew curious about his family as well. One day your curiosity was at its peak, and you rattled off questions about any possible siblings he might have. That was less intrusive than asking about a significant other, right?

“So, are you an only child, or do you have any siblings?” You probed during a particularly long day and difficult class session. When one’s brain was already fried, it didn’t hurt to completely give up on figuring something out, especially if you had Heeseung.

Just for today, you promised yourself as Heeseung was clicking away at your keyboard, helping you out as usual.

“... I have a brother,” Heeseung hesitated, “Stepbrother, actually. He’s a student as well.”

“No way? Same major as you?”

“No…” and he left it at that, making you wonder if they weren’t on the greatest terms... Or if he just didn’t care to share more of his life with you.

Nonetheless, your attempts to converse with him day after day eventually took a toll on you. Clearly, you were bothering him with the questions, but it’s not like you just chose anyone to put effort into getting to know. Why couldn’t he understand that? Most people would’ve loved getting asked about their life and would easily drone on and on about themselves.

Rin would cackle at you now if she only knew of your circumstances. As if you would ever tell her with the shit way things were going.

God, I should just stick to my little otome game apps with automated responses.

After several weeks of your relationship with him going nowhere, your savior became the source of your frustration.

Guys never helped you out without an ulterior motive or expecting something in return, so it was almost inconceivable to think someone like Heeseung existed. His caring personality subverted your initial expectations of him, and you knew his selfless actions came from a sincere place, but still…

This had grown beyond needing his help in class. All you wanted to do was get to know Heeseung because you had taken a genuine interest in him.

Was that asking for a lot?

The day you walked into class and plopped into your seat without saying hello to him, Heeseung knew something was up. The boy had gotten much too used to your greetings every day.

Barely able to contain your irritation with him, you stared straight ahead at your screen and got to work, despite feeling his eyes on you.

Beside you, Heeseung was desperately trying to read your stoic expression. He’d glance at you meekly, and look back at his computer for a few seconds, only to peer over at you again.

This cycle went on for the next few minutes until you heard him greet you first, for once.

“Hey, ___–”

“Hey,” You barely spared him a look and settled back into your workflow just as swiftly.

Stumped by your odd behavior, Heeseung drew his hands into his lap and fell quiet once more.

Just when you thought he’d leave you be, Heeseung pulled up to your side in his rolling chair, that signature lavender scent of his invading your senses. His knee bumped into yours but stayed there.

“Do you need my help with anything?”

“No, thank you,” you replied coldly.

You saw him wilt out of the corner of your eye, and something vengeful in you felt good about making him feel the way you’ve felt for the past months. The other part of you just felt plain guilty.

Feeling suffocated, you abruptly left the class to get some fresh air. You were hoping the open-air foyer filled with wooden benches would grant you a moment of reprieve.

Choosing the farthest bench from the entrance, you sat down and propped up your legs, pulling your knees close to your chin. The evening breeze swept across your flushed cheeks, and you were mortified to realize tears were threatening to spill down them.

It was childish of you to reject Heeseung’s attention once you finally got it, but… you couldn’t help it. You knew the attention wasn’t due to any sort of genuine feelings toward you; it was merely your petty behavior that provoked him.

Was this how it felt to be rejected while trying so hard to befriend someone? Is this how people felt when you made them jump through a hundred hoops to get to know you?

You thought back to when you took the chance to let someone in for the first and last time. Had you just been too much? Or maybe not worth the trouble?

If that were true… maybe that was the reason your first love had cheated on you.

Old feelings bubbled up in your chest, and suddenly everything really felt like shit.

To make things worse, you were sulking. Even though Heeseung could tell something was up and was trying to diagnose the situation, he still infuriated you. If anyone had to deal with an aloof individual for as long as you did, you were sure they’d go crazy too.

Especially if they were as cute as Heeseung was.

Fuck.

There was no way you were about to cry in public over a boy, the most angelic, frustrating boy you’ve ever met.

Not everybody reciprocated people’s feelings equally, and it was simply life to deal with it. Still…

Once you buried your face into your arms, you released your pent-up emotions with a shaky breath, letting the hot tears fall and soak into your jeans. You decided to stay there for a while, long enough until you knew everyone in class would be gone, so you could rest assured no one would see your pathetic tear-stained face.

It was a good half hour after class ended before you made your way back to collect your belongings and catch the bus to head home. Somehow, you cried for the majority of it as quietly as you could.

It actually helped a bit, as it had back then.

When you pulled open the door, you froze like a deer in headlights.

Heeseung stared up at you with wide eyes from where he was sitting; he was the only one left in the class, which you hadn’t counted on.

He wasn’t waiting for you, was he?

“Um…” You trailed off and slowly turned to leave again, but he was already out of his seat, making his way toward you.

Jesus—

You were hardly ever standing next to each other, so facing him head-on at his tall stature was intimidating, even with his cardigan and those nerdy glasses of his. Perhaps it also had to do with the unfamiliar look in his eyes and the intense concern in them.

“Are you okay?” He reached out to touch your arm, but you stepped back and caught him by the shoulders, holding him back at arm's length.

Unable to look at him directly, you stared down at your shoes next to his, eyes stinging again as if you didn’t just spend half an hour crying.

Just seeing his face and hearing his voice brought on a flood of confusing emotions.

“Yeah? I-I’m fine,” You insisted.

Even though Heeseung couldn’t see your face, he saw your tears fall onto your sneakers and felt your grip curl into his shoulders.

“___, if it’s something I said or did…” Heeseung’s voice went soft, and you nearly jumped when you felt his hands slide over yours, his thumbs stroking comfortingly over your skin, “You can tell me.”

His mere touch slowly brought your anxiety down, one stroke of his thumb after the other— at the same time, it sent shivers along your skin.

It’s what you didn’t say or do.

Fear threatened to cut your voice off completely. You took several deep breaths, trying to sort out your thoughts so that you could properly convey how you were feeling.

Here was your chance to be honest with him from the get-go. It was scary, but you needed to try.

“I consider you as someone who I’m really grateful for, Heeseung. Especially after how much of your time you’ve given me this semester,” You sighed, glancing up at him even though your vision was blurry, “You’re a really talented guy. It’s just impossible to get to know you because you like to keep to yourself. I think I understand why you do. Even I don’t like letting other people in all the time...”

Something seemed to click in his mind at your words; you saw his lips part ever so slightly in realization, his eyes widening a fraction.

“... But it’s still hard to be on the receiving end of that. However, if that’s where you want me,” You pulled your hands out of his, letting them drop to your side, “Then there’s not much I can do about that.”

Quietly, you brushed past him and packed your backpack in a hurry to leave.

Heeseung fell silent behind you, and when you left him, you kept your eyes trained on the floor.

The next day, you remained in a foul mood as you chose to sit on the opposite side of your table to avoid the tension of being next to Heeseung for two hours straight. As you expected, the student who usually sat there confronted you about it.

“Hey, this is my seat. I’ve been sitting here all semester.”

You didn’t care to grant her your full attention and continued typing, “I don’t see your name on it.”

It was definitely a shitty thing to say, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give a damn at that moment.

She was stunned into silence and subsequently stomped over to the next row to take her seat next to Heeseung. There was no doubt that he overheard your confrontation.

Class sped by while you were laser-focused on completing everything you needed to get done for that period— without Heeseung’s help. At least one good thing came out of taking notes and watching Heeseung work these past several weeks; your evolving skill set. You were far from excellent, but you had gotten at least a bit better with the basics.

This time, you didn’t plan on sticking around after class.

It seemed like Heeseung was prepared for you not to because the moment you stood up and bolted to the door, he was already out of his seat, hot on your trail.

Heeseung called out your name.

You ignored him, even as he easily caught up with your pace. His silence yesterday already confirmed all you needed to know about how he felt about you.

He caught your elbow, and you stopped to look him dead in the eye. “What do you think you’re doing? Let go.”

Heeseung immediately released you, “Sorry, I just wanted to talk—“

A menacing force slammed into your back, propelling you straight into Heeseung’s chest. Someone halfway down the hall called out a sarcastic apology, but it barely registered— you were startled by how Heeseung steadied you against his hard body.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You scowled, already shaking his hands off despite your body aching at the feeling of him so near, “What did you want now?”

Heeseung‘s eyes wavered, but he managed to hold your scrutinizing gaze.

“Do you want to grab dinner?”

He really felt the pressure of an impending ‘no’ when all you did was stare at him.

You frowned, “What?”

Heeseung gulped but continued, “You don’t have any other classes for the day, right? There’s a really good Thai place just on the edge of campus, and their Pad Thai is the best— at least within a 20-mile radius.”

Was he doing this all of a sudden because he pitied you?

“You don’t need to do this.”

Heeseung looked like he was on the verge of panicking, but just as quickly, a sense of determination overcame him.

He took a step forward, “But what if I want to?”

You looked off to the side, “I’m confused. Why all of a sudden?”

“I know it’s like I’m doing this out of the blue,” He sounded in a rush due to nerves, so he slowed down his speech, “I’m not good with words, and it’s true that I’m easily distracted by my classes. But I do care about you, ___.”

Your chest throbbed as he peered down at you from under his lashes with furrowed brows, “I know I’m usually pretty distant, and I can’t make up for everything in a night, but I really would like to talk with you over dinner… only if you want to join me.”

Heeseung’s expression appeared so hopeful, and his gaze held an amount of tenderness that had you shifting your weight under the unusual attention you were receiving.

What was that look he was giving you?

He felt you brush by him, and he hung his head.

Heeseung felt his stomach twist with guilt, he knew you wouldn’t give him a chance after how he’d been treating you—

“… Fine.”

Heeseung straightened up with wide eyes and turned to face you as you set off in the completely wrong direction.

“It’s this way,” He eagerly called after you.

You came to a quick halt, then turned back around, crossing your arms, “Lead the way then.”

He smiled to himself when he heard the unmistakable sound of your stomach grumbling ever so faintly.

Walking across campus with Heeseung was convenient because the majority of people made plenty of room for the two of you, all thanks to the giant by your side. Usually, they’d have no issue bumping shoulders with you or overlooking you.

Must be nice to be able to part seas of people, you thought enviously.

Heeseung remained quiet for the majority of the walk except for mentioning a direction here and there. All the while, you were trying to anticipate what Heeseung might have to say to you once you got to the restaurant.

The sky grew to be a deep orange by the time you entered the quaint Thai restaurant at the front of the campus. A simple aqua blue neon sign that read 01 Thai shone across asphalt above an old, cream colored building. While you considered their signature menu options, you turned Heeseung’s words over in your head.

“I do care about you, ___.”

Do you really?

“And what would you like to order?” The cashier asked you.

“Oh. I guess I’ll try the Pad Thai.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Just water, please,” You absentmindedly dug in your pocket to hand over your card, but Heeseung was already handing over his.

Your brows drew together as you quietly glanced up at him, not wanting to make a scene.

He gave you a nervous smile, “My treat.”

You looked over your shoulder for seating, “I’ll Venmo you later.”

“No need,” He shook his head, guiding you to a corner table.

“I will.”

Even from across the small wooden table, Heeseung sensed your lingering discomfort, understandably. He looked like he wanted to say something, but so did you, so he waited.

After a contemplative moment, you met his eyes and folded your hands on the table. “Heeseung, don’t tell me you're doing all this just because you feel bad.”

“No— I mean, in a way, yes. I know how I can be, and I’m sorry that you had to deal with that. I never meant to hurt you the way I did.”

I really did emotionally throw up on him yesterday, and his silence didn’t make it any better. Even now, I still feel high-strung about the whole ordeal, but he seems sorry about it…

“Listen, I get that you feel guilty, but if you really do just want to be friends, there’s no need for anything crazy. Just talking would be nice to start.”

“Right...” He stared right at you.

Your brows knit together once more at the uncertainty in his voice.

“Right,” Heeseung repeated, almost to himself, “That’s doable. Although guilt plays a significant part in driving me to do what I’m doing… Please know it’s not my only motivator.”

Heeseung startled you when he reached out to take one of your hands in his. You still looked utterly confused, so he exhaled softly before squeezing your hand and running the pad of his thumb along your knuckles, just like he did back in class.

Goosebumps immediately broke out on your skin from the heat of his touch.

Oh.

Behind his glasses, his eyes were intent; you had his full attention. “I’ve been really out of touch with people these days, and I regret it. However, I had some personal things I was working through. It’s not an excuse, but I do care about you, ___. I hope you can eventually find a way to forgive me.”

At his sudden admittance, your heart rate began to pick up. Immediately you hated how vulnerable his words made you feel, but that also meant that they were real. His forwardness rendered you genuinely speechless; even your mind drew a blank.

It seemed like he could sense it.

“I-I see,” You stared at your daintier hand in his own, then looked back up at Heeseung’s keen gaze.

His brows drew together, and his lips curled upwards ever so slightly, “Am I making you nervous?” He sounded like he was making a discovery.

Heat immediately flooded your face once more, and you took your hand back out of embarrassment.

He gnawed on his lip, his eyelids lowering a fraction, “Sorry.”

A waitress pulled up to your table with a tray of steaming bowls, and Heeseung thanked the waitress as she left while you reached for a pair of chopsticks.

“What kind of question is that?” You mumbled while you picked at your noodles. Your brain was failing to make sense of Heeseung’s feelings towards you.

He didn’t let up.

“You make me really nervous, ___,” Heeseung dared to reveal in a low voice.

As he expected, his declaration drew your attention back to him. Your eyes narrowed at Heeseung, who wore a small yet knowing smile, clearly trying to get a rise out of you.

Is this really the same guy who chased me down to grab dinner with him?

Little did you know the boy sitting across from you was attuned to your every movement— from the quickened pace of your breath to the twitch of your leg when his knee brushed against yours underneath the table.

Naturally, he would be after spending so much time at your side for the past couple of months, taking note of your little habits and mannerisms.

He also knew you’d be skeptical for a while after this, that it would take time to prove his sincerity once more. Heeseung was willing to overcome that by any means.

When Heeseung realized he had stunned you into silence, he finally looked down at his own plate. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

“Agreed,” You were grateful for the change of subject because you just barely survived his sudden undivided attention. Also, you were beyond famished.

All the while, your mouth was watering at the sight of the food, so you took a bite of the Pad Thai and savored the flavorful spices on your tongue. It was pretty damn good, Heeseung had taste. One bite of noodles, and suddenly, you felt as though you were gaining back your senses.

He’s kind of flirty, isn’t he?

After several more bites and a nice gulp of cold water, you felt ready to hold a proper conversation.

“Don’t bullshit me anymore, Heeseung,” You commented, propping your chin up on your palm.

He chuckled softly, and you squinted his way.

“I’ll try my best, ___.”

Over dinner, Heeseung allowed you to delve into his mind, which was certainly a treat.

Not without difficulty, of course.

His answers remained vague unless you pressed further; it was like pulling teeth, but you could tell he was trying. With enough persistence, he divulged you.

“Do you just really like to keep a low profile?” You asked, referencing his deflection of your attempts at conversing with him during class, “I mean, I figured you just found me annoying.”

Heeseung slowly began, “I wasn’t in the best headspace this semester. Things at my old job weren’t going well at all, and those issues combined with the stress of my classes resulted in me feeling very closed off from my surroundings.”

You scratched your cheek. “I see. How does that usually affect you?”

“I tend to isolate myself under pressure, and it becomes difficult for me to connect with… well, those around me,” Heeseung explained, running his fingers back and forth over the grain of the tabletop.

“Hm, that’s tough. Honestly, you always seem like you have your shit together.”

Heeseung shook his head, “It’s… a facade of sorts.”

“Well, a lot of people have one,” Your eyes wandered down to your plate, it had been scraped clean for a while.

The shop was empty save for you two, it must’ve been growing closer to closing time, what with the moonlight shining through the windows.

“Yeah? What’s yours?”

Ah, now it’s his turn to take a shot at me.

Being vulnerable was difficult, especially with all of Heeseung’s attention on you. Silence fell over you two, but he waited, even when it felt like you weren’t going to speak.

“Probably enjoying being alone. Not that I don’t, but it depends on how I’m feeling that day. I see independence and loneliness as two sides of the same coin.”

It was the truth, to an extent. You enjoyed the benefits of being independent, but there was a fine line between that and being lonely.

“It’s a normal human thing to go through,” You shrugged.

It’s how I’ve always been, and it usually keeps me safe. But I can’t believe I just admitted that to another person, let alone Heeseung. Though that’s the whole point of this conversation, isn’t it?

“Um, anyways…“

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel lonely.”

Your eyes flitted to Heeseung’s expression; he seemed cautious yet sincere.

“Don’t be. It’s not your responsibility to make me feel otherwise.”

It was a difficult realization to come to, and as such, you gave a detached response. In due time you’d have to see if he meant everything that he said.

With an inward sigh, you felt disappointment replace the anger that had been slowly filtering out of your system for the past hour. Heeseung was willing to try to be friends, which was more than you could’ve asked for, so deep down, you fought your desire for him. You were being given the chance to take things day by day and come to terms with the reality of your situation.

“Besides, being lonely is a good skill to have. It’s weird to say out loud, but I really think it is,” You stated, glancing out the window into the dimly lit streets, “It’s useful and easier than most people think.”

When Heeseung said nothing in response, you turned to look at him once more, wanting to hear his voice.

Something from him, anything.

Instead, you met those dark brown eyes behind his glasses; they contained a mix of something you couldn’t place and a tinge of sadness, but most surprisingly– knowing.

You fidgeted with the hairband on your wrist. “What? What’s wrong?”

Heeseung spoke, “Nothing… What do you mean?”

His question seemed hollow as if he feigned confusion; his eyes told you everything yet nothing, all at once– like he could see right through you.

You shook your head, voice coming out as a whisper, “I don’t know… You’re making me nervous again.”

“Sorry,” Heeseung blinked and shifted his eyes elsewhere, and suddenly you felt like you could breathe, but just barely.

He distractedly removed his glasses to pinch at his nose bridge, and that’s when your breath caught in your chest.

A slight smile tugged at your lips, “Hey, you look different without your glasses.” You were apt to change the subject.

“Oh, really?” Heeseung moved to adjust them back in place quickly.

“Wait,” you leaned over the table and placed your hand on his to stop him, wanting a better look, “You look really handsome. Not that you don’t with them on, but….”

Heeseung noted how intrigued you looked, the fascination brightening your features. It was certainly a contrast to the way you regarded him just a moment before. “I’ve worn glasses my whole life. I don’t look odd without them?”

“No, but I think you’re cute either way—“ You curiously brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes, and his brows rose in surprise.

Upon realizing what you had done, you promptly sat back in your seat and stuffed your hands in your pockets.

“I— You just look different,” You tried to cover up your embarrassment with a smile.

You hadn’t intended on getting touchy, but you just couldn't help it. Then again, he comfortably initiated way more physical contact with you today than he had all semester.

Heeseung quietly glanced off to the side, and then his eyes were back on you without a moment’s notice, observing.

Ah, there’s that churning sensation in my stomach again.

Even though you could see his eyes clear as day, you couldn’t read him as easily this time.

“Thanks,” His eyes flitted away as he fixed his glasses back in place.

Uh-oh. Did I mess up? Did I turn him off by touching his hair? Or with my comments on his appearance?

“We better go, I think they’re closing,” You rubbed your cheek while throwing your backpack over your shoulder, “Thank you for dinner.”

“Sure. Thanks for hearing me out… and for sharing,” Heeseung led you to the door and held it open for you.

His voice sounded odd, almost tight.

“Yeah...”

It had been a rollercoaster of a day so far; you weren’t sure what kind of note you were going to end it on.

The brisk night air hit your skin and made you shudder. You turned towards the bus stop across the street, anticipating an arrival soon, “I’m headed over here. I guess I’ll see you in class?”

When you glanced back over your shoulder, Heeseung was looking after you in such a way that caused you to freeze. His demeanor had shifted from the start of dinner to now like there was a barely tamed intensity about him. He felt unpredictable— he even seemed on edge.

What was going on? Maybe you really stepped on his toes earlier with your comment about his glasses. It certainly wasn’t your intention; you meant it as a compliment.

He could’ve been self-conscious about it, you idiot!

Heeseung gave you a curt nod, “Get home safely, okay?”

You frowned.

“Okay…” You paused before giving him a quick hug.

Next to free food and a bit of communication, hugs diffused most escalating situations, right?

But even to you, it felt like a blur; you barely gave him enough time to return it, and then you were slipping out of his grasp just as quickly as you had drawn close.

“Bye,” You whispered.

Taken aback, Heeseung dropped his arms to his sides as he watched you jog across the street to board the bus that arrived a moment before and nearly took off without you.

He inhaled deeply.

Now, his whole body ached.

Oh, he hated you even more for that.

The cold suddenly seeped into his skin. It hadn’t affected him until you left his side.

Your bus took off just as his phone faintly vibrated in his pocket. He lost count of how many times it had gone off during his dinner with you, but he hardly paid it any attention. He ignored it for the past two months but couldn’t bring himself to block the number.

Finally, he decided to answer it.

“Heeseung! Do you know how many times I’ve called you today? And the day before? Over the past eight fucking weeks? We were supposed to meet–”

“I was at dinner—” Heeseung immediately kicked himself for even sparing an excuse. There was no need to anymore. “Please stop calling me.”

His thumb hovered over the button to hang up and block her number; he should’ve done it earlier.

“Don’t do this to me, love.”

Anger slithered up his veins, “How else do you expect me to act after all that you’ve done?”

“What you saw wasn’t what it looked like—“

Beep—

That’s what she’d said in the hundreds of voicemails she left, or so he guessed. Listening to one was sufficient.

From that day on, Heeseung dialed back on the forwardness he displayed in terms of physical contact with you, and you couldn’t figure out why for the life of you. However, your conversations in class were plentiful and on friendlier terms, save for the interesting underlying tension that persisted through his frequent teasing comments and lasting stares.

That’s not to say there was a complete absence of flirtatious touching, he simply wasn’t as outright with it. But you noted each subtle instance with amusement whether it was a tap on the shoulder, a bump to the knee or an accidental brush of hands when he’d reach for your mouse.

He seemed somewhat back to normal compared to how you left him that one night, but something definitely changed between you two.

On the other hand, you soon discovered the breadth of his sense of humor. The off-handed, dry comments he’d whisper about some odd gesture or explanation the professor would make had you snorting in your seat— turns out you weren’t the only one who occasionally got annoyed with the way your professor taught.

Even so, together, you both managed.

Thai food after class became a routine for you both, a couple of times a week. Ever since Heeseung made an effort to open up, sometimes you’d talk up until the last bus was available for you to catch if he didn’t have work, and other times, you’d work on assignments together.

For every question you asked him, it tickled you that he had one for you of equal measure. These brief moments with Heeseung stood out from your otherwise mundane campus life. Unfortunately, things didn’t always go according to plan.

One evening, a meeting with your advisor concerning your schedule for next semester ran over time significantly and you were 30 minutes late to your dinner at 01 Thai with Heeseung.

The frigid air lashed across your face the moment you stepped outside the administration building causing you to wince. It was an evening filled with storm clouds, and the sun had long set; it was starting to get darker earlier in the day. You reached into your pocket to update Heeseung on your whereabouts but let out a frustrated grunt when you realized your phone had died on you.

Fuck.

The restaurant was on the complete other side of campus so you decided to cut through a back way that was a bit more obscure but quicker than usual. The first droplets of rain hit your skin before it turned into an outright downpour by the time you were half way across campus.

Just my luck.

There weren’t a whole lot of shaded areas along the buildings in the back route you took so you braced yourself through the chill until the droplets began to feel like ice pellets. It was too much so you chose to take shelter when you came upon the first shaded area that came into view near the back exit of a building.

Something on the floor caught your eye as you quickly approached. A dog with soaked fur was curled up on its stomach and appeared to be breathing irregularly. On instinct, you kneeled down to run your hand over its fur, and it let out a thin whine.

“Oh, you poor thing. Where’s your owner?”

You felt along its furry chin for a tag and found purchase in a sleek, black collar. However, there was no tag with an owner's contact to be found.

Maybe it’s a high-tech tracking collar?

With your back against the wall, you slid down to sit for a moment, enduring the mist that the wind blew against you both, cradling the dog close. “I don’t think the rain will let up any time soon… You don’t wanna come with? You just wanna stay here and wait for your owner, huh?”

The dog merely blinked up at you.

“Alright, then you need this more than I do. Hopefully they’re just around the corner…”

You shrugged off your jacket and used it to dry off the pup a bit before swaddling it in the fabric. After you finished and went to scratch its chin, it licked your palm non-stop.

“You’re welcome,” You stood up with a giggle and readjusted your backpack. Although it was storming, if you let Heeseung wait any longer it would give him the wrong idea.

You received stares from other students the moment you stepped through the restaurant doors since the single layer of your T-shirt was soaked through. Immediately you crossed your arms over your chest but made a beeline towards Heeseung who sat in the corner.

He looked you over with concern.

You couldn’t help but stutter from the cold, “S-sorry. My meeting ran late with my advisor and my phone died—“

“It’s okay, I figured. Weren’t you wearing a jacket in class earlier?”

“I—I may have given it away…”

“To who?”

“To a dog I saw on the way here…?”

You realized how ridiculous it sounded once you said it out loud, but the soft spot you had towards canines made you do silly things from time to time.

Heeseung raised a brow at that, “Did you just lose it?”

“Sure, I lost it on this awfully cold day, ” You rolled your eyes.

Heeseung shook his head with a snort, and tugged his hoodie over his head, “Well, why don’t you change out of that?”

A chill racked through your body but you brushed it off, until you glanced down to see your shirt plastered to your body and around the prominent outline of your black bra.

“Um….”

“Here,” Heeseung deposited his hoodie into your arms before you could refuse, “I’ll ask them for a plastic bag to hold your clothing. Your food just came out, so go change.”

“Thanks.”

As you ignored the stares from others occupying the restaurant and clicked the restroom door shut, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

There really wasn’t a spot on you that wasn’t damp. You stripped out of your top and bra then proceeded to squeeze them out over the sink before tossing them into a plastic bag. You dried down as much as you could with a wad of paper towels then tugged Heeseung’s hoodie over your head.

Immediately, you were enveloped by his scent; a light sweetness with new undertones of soft musk you hadn’t detected before. The fabric was still warm against your skin with his body heat which made you feel odd.

You slowly tugged the collar up to your nose then dropped the fabric abruptly.

Let’s not make this weird. It certainly beats being cold and wet.

Heeseung eyed you once you remerged. “I ate already and was about to go looking for you to drop off your food.”

You plopped down across from him. “Yeah, sorry. Do you have to go soon?”

He glanced at his phone screen. “In about 10 minutes, for work. I’ll hang out for a while, though.”

“You don’t wanna work on an assignment while I eat?”

Heeseung pressed his cheek against his palm and leaned onto his elbow, his languid eyes on you, “Mm-mm.”

You stared at him before proceeding to shovel the tasty noodles into your mouth, “Okay.”

Heeseung chuckled, “How’d your meeting go?”

“Fine, I guess. My advisor thought he screwed up and almost made me think I had to take an extra two classes, but we straightened that out. I’m on track, and I’ll have a decent load to finish off next semester since it’s my last.”

Heeseung looked like he was in thought as you shared your schedule with him.

“None of those classes ring a bell.”

That fact bummed you out, more than you’d ever show. “Oh, really? What’s your semester looking like next year?”

“Hm, since it’s my last semester too, I’m thinking of going for an internship, it’s about time.”

You dabbed at your lips with a napkin, “That’s actually really good. I need to do that…”

“It’ll help when you apply for jobs, for sure.”

The impending doom of your future weighed heavily on your shoulders, and Heeseung seemed to notice you suddenly felt burdened.

“So, you like dogs?”

You glanced up mid-chew, “I do!”

“Did you really give a dog your jacket?” Heeseung squinted.

“Would you believe me if I said yes?”

“Maybe the second time around,” He was amused at how you pouted, “What breeds do you like?”

“I like all breeds. The funniest dogs are ones that are like humans. During last thanksgiving there was this one dog at my aunt’s that wouldn’t let me pet him at first. So, I let him be and sat in the living room alone, but every so often he would saunter in and get closer to me every time,” You laughed at the memory, “Then eventually he got so close, I just stuck my hand out and he pressed up against me for pets. Finicky but adorable…”

Heeseung cleared his throat, and wore a sheepish expression, “Sounds like it… You don’t own any dogs?”

“Not yet. I’m saving up and waiting ‘till I’m done with school. I want to be able to give it the attention it deserves.”

“I think that’s smart.”

You sighed, “Yeah… I wish I had one.”

As you finished your food, Heeseung finally said what was truly on his mind.

“You should be more careful about walking around campus without a working phone. It gets dark faster these days,” He began.

His scolding caught you off guard.

“I am cautious, I’m not dumb,” You interrupted, “And I didn’t mean to. I would’ve charged it in the library or something but I didn’t want to keep you waiting—“

“It would’ve been fine if you left me waiting a little longer to do that. It’s such a big campus where anything could happen when you least expect it, so you should always have your phone on,” Heeseung motioned for you to hand over your phone, “And I know you know that.”

You pouted but dropped it into his hand, and he connected it to a portable charger he took out of his backpack, “Alright, mother.”

Heeseung sighed but gave you a small smile anyways.

“Are you still at your old job or did you start your new one already?” You asked since Heeseung felt at liberty to say what he wanted.

Heeseung’s eyes turned troubled. “Still there. Just for a little while longer.”

You pressed, “Where do you work?”

Heeseung’s lips parted to answer but he seemed to think better of it.

“It’s not the greatest place,” Heeseung checked his phone and stood up, “Sorry, I’ve gotta go. See you.”

You bit your tongue. “Won’t you get all wet if you’re walking to work?”

“Uber,” was all he said with a tight smile, “Don’t worry about it. Get home safe.”

Heeseung left you his charger as he stepped outside into the rain, the deep slope of his shoulders inciting a sense of regret in you. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pushed him on the topic when it was clearly sensitive for him. He didn’t deserve your snappy attitude after he expressed his worry for you either… but you knew he wouldn’t hold you to it because that’s the kind of person he was.

When you weren’t grabbing dinner with Heeseung, there were evenings when you would pour over your studies and meet Rin in the library, like you always had.

“So, how are your otome games going? On to the next one?” She questioned.

Oh shit. You’ve been neglecting your pixel husbands basically since the start of the semester—

“I actually haven’t touched any games in a while.”

“Really now?” Rin seemed unsurprised at such a revelation as she continued, “How about that coding class? These days you seem less stressed about it….”

“Yeah, I finally picked up a thing or two. There’s actually this guy who’s been—“

Rin jumped out of her seat and pointed at you accusingly, the screech of her chair drawing annoyed looks from other students.

“I’ve been fucking waiting for you to bring him up!”

Your eyes widened, “Wait, how do you—”

“Shhhh!” Someone hushed.

You both put your heads together and dropped your voices to a whisper.

“How do you know Heeseung?”

Rin explained everything in detail, perhaps too much detail. Figuring out Heeseung consulted her the day you cried in front of him made your face burn.

Apparently, he hung out enough in the library to recognize Rin as your friend, although you certainly had never seen him while studying.

“Truthfully, at first, I was mad at the guy for upsetting you; the dude was too honest for his own good and actually told me he was in deep shit with you. I nearly caused a scene in here, but he seemed really apologetic and genuine about wanting to make things right with you.

So, I told him food was the way to your heart, but I warned him you’d be a little stuck up about paying for yourself. Seriously, you have the weirdest eating schedule just to achieve ‘optimal efficiency’ and avoid ‘brain fog’ or whatever,” Rin grinned.

Well, she wasn’t wrong. Free food definitely helped on top of everything else Heeseung managed to pull off since then.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t believe you knew about everything the entire time,” You felt a tad guilty for not looping her in on the situation, having thought she would’ve teased you about it, “And that he actually went out of his way to ask you about me….”

You couldn’t help but look at him a little differently now. He was serious.

“Well, I only knew what happened up until that day, but you seemed better these past several weeks, so it looks like my advice worked.”

You slid further into your seat and stared up at the ceiling, “Yeah, I suppose it did.”

“I didn’t want to ruin anything, so I stayed quiet. He’s very cute,” She grinned at you.

You paused, “We’re just friends.”

“What? All that drama for a friendship?”

“Hm…”

Rin rose an impeccably plucked brow at you.

“Yes,” You sighed, patting her head.

Your friend pouted, “I would’ve guessed otherwise, girl. There’s still time, though.”

Was there?

Soon enough, another month had flown by— finals were around the corner, and both you and Heeseung were typing up code for your class project when you ran into your first distressing issue in a while.

You called to him without taking your eyes off the screen, “Hey, something’s off, and I can’t figure out what. I swear if it’s just an extra period somewhere, I’m gonna—“

Heeseung was at your side in a heartbeat, “Let me see.”

You scooted your chair over to make room for his, but he got comfortable on the floor. “Stop kneeling. You know you’re gonna permanently fuck up your kneecaps, right?”

“I’m used to it,” He said simply before he froze up as if he had said something wrong.

Assuming that he was poking at you, you scoffed, “I don’t ask you for help that often anymore, Hee.”

Heeseung cleared his throat and got to work on your code, “No, I know.”

While you waited for him to finish diagnosing the issue, you secretly inhaled his familiar, comforting scent of sweet lavender out of habit.

You saw him smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, what?”

He shrugged, “You’re doing that thing you do every time I get close.”

Fuck. When did he even– Fuck—

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The tapping of keys halted.

A mischievous lilt made its way into his voice as he faced you, “We’re gonna go that route?”

“Yes. Yes, we are because you are not going to out me here,” You hissed under your breath.

“Ha, so you admit that you do take a whiff—“

You took hold of his jaw and forced him to face your computer screen, “Focus.”

Heeseung eyes darkened, but he let out a chuckle.

You were pressing two fingers to your temple and looking anywhere but at him, so you failed to notice. For the moment, you put aside your pride and stayed quiet until he figured out what the hell was wrong with your project.

God, how embarrassing.

A few keyboard and mouse clicks later, and Heeseung was settling back into his seat. “It was an extra period on line 976.”

“Of course it was,” You rolled your eyes and heard him laugh even harder. He was quick to figure out how often he could test your patience…

“Why do you always smell like pastries?” Your sudden question came out as an accusation.

At this point in your friendship, you found yourself blurting out random things that were on your mind when with Heeseung, and he managed to learn how to go with the flow.

“I bake in my spare time,” He said, clearly amused.

You gawked at the new discovery, “I—I guess that explains it….”

“I’ve always baked, it’s sort of just a hobby I never thought to share.”

You swore there was always something to learn about the guy, even at the quick rate that you’d gotten to know him.

“Well, what do you do with all the stuff you make? Keep them all for yourself?” You jabbed at Heeseung.

“No, I just…” His voice quietly tapered off, so you were unable to catch his last words.

“You what?”

“I’ll just give it away to the homeless on the street if I deem it edible,” He muttered.

“Huh,” You turned to Heeseung, “That’s actually really sweet.”

“It’s nothing,” He pressed his lips together and continued, “By the way, I just started my new job, and my shift is in the evening, so… we’re going to have to postpone Thai nights.”

“Oh. You started your new job finally?” Your heart and stomach dropped; you were so looking forward to it before you’d have to really buckle down for finals, “I guess we’ll have to postpone them. The timing, though….”

Postpone them until when? The two of you had completely different tracks from here on out. Would he even want to hang out with you next semester when there was nothing else to bind your schedules together?

Heeseung leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees, appearing contemplative while watching you cycle through the endless thoughts in your mind.

“I work at this new cafe about ten minutes away from campus. Do you want to drop by and check it out after class? If you want, you could study there until I get off, and then we can have dinner at my place.”

Dinner at his place?

He saw the way your eyes blew up, and he couldn’t tell if it was in shock or excitement.

“Don’t feel pressured, it was just a thought,” Heeseung brushed off a piece of lint on your knee, his touch lingering, “I get off at around 10:00, so it’d be a later-than-usual dinner.”

“S-sure,” Your voice pitched unusually high, and you nearly threw up in your mouth.

Geez, calm down!

Heeseung looked pleased as he stood up from his desk and slung his backpack over his shoulder, “Shall we?”

The moment you stepped foot in the new cafe, your body appreciated the drastic change in temperature inside, the weather was extremely chilly these days. Didn’t change the fact that you’d order something iced, though.

“Take a look at the menu, I need to get changed, and I’ll be right out to make you something to drink,” Heeseung ushered you further into the store, his hand at your lower back.

“No problem,” You held Heeseung’s warm gaze and forgot to breathe.

As Heeseung set off to the back, you exhaled and took in the bright, cozy interior of the cafe along with its high ceilings. Evening light filtered through the tall windows, casting the whole place in warmth.

What a nice cafe to work at. I could study here more often too.

The aroma of ground coffee beans and sweet pastries filled your nose, causing your brain to perk up at the thought of caffeine even though it was evening. The people that occupied the space were relatively quiet– the seats were mainly filled with a few students and young professionals.

An empty table was waiting for you in the corner, so you set down your belongings there and pulled out your wallet. Curious about their menu, you returned to the counter to consider the items.

A handsome, light-haired young man eagerly approached from behind the bar upon seeing you, “Hi there! What can I get for you?”

Your brain raced for an answer even though you were supposed to wait for Heeseung. “Um, I’ll try the iced matcha latte….”

“Perfect,” He gave you a thousand-watt smile, “Anything else I can get you? We have macarons that we bake daily.”

“Sure,” You considered the colorful rows of macarons behind the glass counter, “I’ll try a lavender one and a vanilla bean.”

As the boy picked out your macarons, you imagined how Heeseung might look like working his shift here, from his mannerisms to his barista skills and if he dealt with customers easily or not. It was something you’d never thought of previously since you had no clue about his work.

“I threw in a couple of other popular flavors on the house,” the boy gave you a wink, making you blush unexpectedly.

“Oh, thank you so much!”

The barista took a step to his right without taking his eyes off you and bumped right into Heeseung, who suddenly appeared. You noticed he looked especially cute in his work uniform, somehow fitting your exact image of how a barista would look in his white button-down and his chestnut-colored apron. A smile made its way onto your face; his glasses completed the coffee connoisseur look.

“Sorry, man—“

“Hey, no worries. I’ll ring her up,” Your eyes widened at the slight insistence in Heeseung’s voice that left no room for argument, “Jake, meet ___.”

“Hey,” Jake gave you a little wave, despite looking a bit confused at why Heeseung intercepted.

“___, this is my friend Jake. He also goes to our University,” He mentioned while tinkering with the cash register.

You took out your card and gave Jake a shy smile, “Oh, nice. Great to meet you.”

He winked at you, “Likewise.”

Apparently, only hot people work here, you surmised.

You thought you saw Heeseung pout at the exchange between you and Jake, but whether or not he actually did, he ignored your card and handed over your bag of macarons, swiftly stepping away to prepare your drink.

“Wait, I need to pay—“

“I’ve got you. It’ll just be a few minutes,” he called over his shoulder and got to work.

Your cheeks grew warm.

Why did he have to act so sweet sometimes?

“I mean, I knew you had a girlfriend, but you should’ve told me she was dropping by,” Jake chuckled as he pulled up by Heeseung’s side.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’s not?” Jake questioned.

“But I’m interested in her,” Heeseung clarified while frothing your matcha latte a bit too aggressively.

“Aw,” Jake moped, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, “That’s too bad, she’s kinda….”

When it went silent, Jake playfully glanced over at Heeseung, who was staring him down. He slapped him on the back, “Only messing with you, dude.”

“Right.”

Just as you finished unpacking and settling in at the corner table, Heeseung approached with your matcha latte in hand and set it down in front of you.

“That was quick,” You felt giddy getting the special treatment.

“Give it a try, and let me know if it needs anything.”

You stirred the pretty green liquid with the straw and took a sip, glancing up at Heeseung as you did so. Heeseung bit his lip and tilted his head expectantly.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good, just let me know if you need anything,” He smiled, but before he could leave, you caught his sleeve.

“Wait, have a macaron before you go. Jake gave me a lot,” You randomly chose the dusty pink one that smelled like roses and held it up for him to take.

Instead, he drew close, placing his hand on the back of your chair to steady himself, parted his lips, and waited. You glanced up at him to check if he was joking, but the glimmer in his eye said otherwise.

Woah—

Brain on autopilot, you fed it to him, and he took a bite out of the fresh macaron.

He licked at his lips and smirked at you, “Thanks.”

After he disappeared behind the counter, you dropped your forehead into your hand, flabbergasted. You just knew your face was so red.

This crazy ass—

What, did he expect you to finish the remainder of the macaron?

This was too much for you to handle– Heeseung was too much for you to handle today.

And, of course, you finished it.

Two hours flew by at your table while you were jamming to some nostalgic tunes in your own little world while studying for your upcoming finals.

Feeling the urge to stretch, you took off your headphones and extended your stiff limbs with a wince.

Condensation ran down your empty glass of matcha, and you had finished nibbling on your macarons earlier. Besides the lavender and vanilla flavors you had chosen, the rose one was pretty aromatic, and the other strawberries and cream flavor Jake picked out for you was delicious. The snacks certainly whet your appetite, and now you were more than looking forward to having dinner with Heeseung… at his place.

You peered at Heeseung over the top of your laptop as he kept busy behind the espresso bar; Jake was a very charismatic cashier, as you experienced first-hand, while Heeseung was rather efficient at serving up beverages and hopping in to take orders when needed. They seemed to handle themselves well as a team, as far as you could tell from the past couple of hours.

Girls and guys often wandered in to gawk at the two, and you completely understood why. Nonetheless, it didn’t help the surge of discomfort you felt when you caught two girls checking Heeseung out from behind. There was nothing you could do but seethe in your seat.

Relax. They’re not the ones headed home with him tonight.

Ah, that reminder helped, sort of.

Now you were feeling antsy about the fact that Heeseung had invited you over in the first place. There was no way you prepared in any way, shape or form with how little heads up he gave you, but you couldn’t have easily passed up the opportunity to get a look at his place and spend more time with him.

And if he baked, he had to be a good cook, no?

The chatty girls ended up being the last customers to leave the cafe, except for you in the corner, partially anxious but mostly content because you were alone, and so was Heeseung.

After a quiet period, you were drawn from your studies when a woman who stood out from the average patron strolled into the cafe. She was dressed well enough to convince you that she was a model or at least an influencer of sorts, especially by the confident way she held herself.

Jake welcomed her warmly, and you were about to slip your headphones back on when you heard her speak, “Hello. Does Heeseung work here?”

“Yeah! Do you want me to get him for you? He’s prepping food in the back.”

“Please.”

Who is she? A friend?

Jake made his way to the back kitchens. “Hey, Heeseung! Someone’s here to see you!”

“One sec,” You heard Heeseung call.

The woman stood calmly and patiently at the counter; she appeared to be in her mid-twenties and looked sharp in all-black fashion with a set of alluring, shadowy eyes. An uneasy feeling passed through your stomach at the way she suddenly rolled her shoulders and neck— you couldn’t put a finger on it, but if it involved Heeseung, you didn’t like it.

Heeseung emerged from the kitchen doors, and you became deeply concerned at how his face went stoic upon seeing the mysterious woman. Jake sensed something was off as well and looked back and forth between the two.

“Hi. I hope I caught you at a good time. As you know, I’ve been wanting to chat,” Her tone was overtly sweet.

Heeseung rounded the counter and approached her, dropping his voice to an inaudible murmur.

Whispers were exchanged between them; you focused on trying to read their lips, but it was difficult. They were familiar with each other, that much you could tell. However, they couldn’t have looked like more complete opposites.

Feeling that you were being nosy, you stopped staring and returned to your project at hand, not wanting to overstep any further.

A sharp slap followed by a harsh clatter resounded in the empty cafe, alerting you.

Shocked, your head whipped towards the source of the noise, only to see Heeseung, whose face was angled away from you. Your sights landed on his glasses on the tile floor.

The woman standing in front of him took an easy breath, but the way she flicked her wrist gave away her rage.

Somehow, you were already standing from your seat, crossing the floor, “Excuse me. Did you just–”

The woman kept her eyes trained on Heeseung, “Mind your own business, love.”

Jake jumped in front of you, waving his hands, “Jesus— Easy, easy. I’ll handle this.”

Red filled your vision once your brain registered what had happened, but you had enough sense to stand your ground a safe distance away— for that woman’s sake.

“Get her out of here before I do it myself,” you gritted out.

Jake nodded and was quick to address the woman, “Miss, I’m not sure what’s going on, but you can’t just assault our staff. I’m going to have to ask you to leave immediately due to store policy.”

She eyed you, and her sharp expression slowly morphed into a feigned smile, startling you.

“Just one more thing,” She inclined her chin towards Heeseung, “Then we’ll chat back at my place after you wrap up here, alright, love?”

Heeseung’s gaze flickered at the woman, but he said nothing.

She sauntered up to him, much too close for anyone’s comfort, and reached out to take hold of his chin, her sharp nails gauging into his skin. Stunned, you watched him shut his eyes tightly, how his brows drew together— and then he caught her wrist before she could get any closer.

Heeseung spoke in an extremely deliberate tone, “No. This is the last time I’ll be saying this to you. We’re finished. We’ve been finished. Do you understand?”

As the woman’s fingers curled into a fist, so did yours.

“Leave. If I see you bothering any customers or staff who occupy this space, I’ll let the authorities deal with you,” He warned.

“I’ve taken care of you since we were children, Heeseung.”

The statement took you by surprise.

“We’re done talking,” Heeseung tugged her past you and Jake towards the cafe entrance. She pulled back on his grip, but he remained unfazed.

The two of you watched him take her outside and proceed to lock up the front of the store. Jake quickly followed and began to pull down the blinds as the woman pressed up against the windows. Her eyes slowly dragged over your form in the most demeaning manner.

“Talk about a crazy ex,” Jake murmured to no one in particular, pressing his back against the covered window. You exhaled heavily, speechless at the turn of events.

When you bent over to pick up Heeseung’s glasses and inspect them, you noticed a lens had cracked. One could only imagine how much the slap must’ve stung.

Heeseung touched the small of your back, “I’m really sorry you had to see that.”

Feeling left in the dark, you turned around and gave him a look of confusion, “Exactly how long has it been since you broke up with your ex?”

“Since the start of the semester,” Heeseung answered right away, “This is the first time I’ve seen her since. I don’t know how she found out about my new job.”

“And she still can’t take a hint?” Jake asked while cleaning up behind the register.

“She will now because I’m not entertaining her games.”

You felt relief, but you immediately regretted the question.

What a thing for me to ask after everything that just took place, you thought, ashamed.

“Are you okay?” Your hand was shaky when you reached out to touch his cheek.

His fingers brushed against the back of your hand in reassurance.

“I’m fine. I’ll be better once we get out of here and grab something to eat back at my place,” He managed to give you a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

#heeseung smut #heeseung x female reader #heeseung x reader #enhypen smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #enhypen hard hours #heeseung fic #heeseung ff #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fanfic #enhypen ff

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taesspark · 8 months

Text

Cafe O Lay | Jungkook x Reader

summary: You’re a studious university student, Jungkook is a hot barista. Pretty straightforward, right? Nope, not when you spend all your time playing the Sims instead of studying, and Jungkook is the crush you're convinced will never like you back.

warnings: this is E for Everyone, sweet caramel frappucchino fluffy fluff, maybe a sprinkle of secondhand embarrassment, y/n has relationship anxiety

word count: 10k

They say the amount of effort you put into something directly determines how much you get out of it. At least that’s what your advisor tells you every month you visit him, begging for direction. But your advisor is beyond done with life, and you? You’re a college student. Worse, you’re a college student majoring in anthropology.

Justifying the student loans to your parents was bad enough. You were undeclared for your first two years, and after one (1) cultural anthro course that you chose for an easy A elective, you signed the paperwork.

“That’s it. You’re an anthropology major!” Your advisor told you with a smile.

It sounds alright. You like people. You like culture. It’s not as heavy on the reading as history or literature, and it’s not as heavy on the math as science and engineering (your parents were real bummed when you dropped Engineering 101 a week in).

Maybe it was just the pressure to have everything decided by the end of your second year. Either way, you’re set. You’re not sure if you even like anthro anymore, to be honest, but you chalk that up to being in the spring semester of your third year of university.

You know you should be figuring out your life (you’re almost a senior!) or at least working on the 8 page paper for your Advanced Gender and Migration course that’s due in a week. Still, you feel no remorse as you sit in your favorite coffee shop, hunched over your laptop with your headphones in, like all the other diligent students in here, playing the Sims.

All of your essays for that class are just rants about gender inequality anyways, and your professor passes you with flying colors. Fine, make it flying color, singular. It’s still passing.

“One vanilla latte and one strawberry danish for Y/N!”

Before you get up to grab your order, you close your laptop on instinct. It’s a short walk to the counter, but you take your time, allowing the others waiting for their orders to leave. You tell yourself it’s because you’re polite, and you don’t like to swarm the counter.

Jungkook turns around and greets you at the counter with a smile that you return warmly.

Yeah, it’s definitely because you’re polite.

“What are you working on?” He asks. “You were really concentrating just now.”

You were concentrating, but it was on adding a new wing to your Sim’s mansion.

“Just an essay,” you say.

“Sorry to take you out of the zone, but you can’t forget to eat, okay?” He hands you your danish and your coffee. He’s got this little smile on his face, and it makes you grin like a fool.

“Okay.” You nod and take a bite out of the danish as proof that you’re listening, and it prompts a laugh from the barista.

Jungkook leans over the counter a little further. “Hey, Y/N, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Well—”

“No one’s paying you to chat up the customers, Kook!” Hoseok wacks Jungkook in the head from behind as he fetches a new bottle of chocolate syrup. “Go get me the new box of toffee syrup from the back. You’re the only one who can lift those anyway.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but another stern look from Hoseok has him straightening his posture and waving goodbye to you. When he makes his way into the back room to grab something or the other, you make a point to glare at Hoseok.

“You didn’t have to scare him away, Hobi,” You complain.

“More like you’re gonna scare him away,” Hoseok says, and your glare fades to resignation at the knowing look in his eyes. “We just hired the kid a month ago. At least let him earn enough to buy one of his textbooks.”

“Who says I’m gonna scare him away?”

“Your goat laugh does.”

You take a sip from your drink. “You’re snappy today, Hoseok.”

“Thank you for the observation,” he says, eyes on the drink he’s mixing. “If you really cared, you’d tip me more.”

“You still owe me for that time you stole my donut holes.”

“That’s what you get for buying a bag of donut holes.”

You scoff, but you know it’s all friendly banter. You wave him a farewell before taking your food back to your table. Hoseok sends a dazzling smile your way, and you can’t help but forgive him for the goat laugh comment. You and Hoseok have become good friends in the year or so that you’ve been coming to Cafe O’ Lay.

It was the day you moved into your apartment in your second year. Even though you have two lovely roommates (Jin and Jieun always have your back), your apartment is a lot different from the dorms that you lived in during your first year of university. Cafe O’ Lay is just down the street from your apartment, and since then, it’s become your safe haven.

You were there for hours on end during finals season, your highlighters shoved between multiple (emptied) mugs of coffee. You were also there when it wasn’t finals season, on those calm afternoons where it was calm enough for you to chat with the employees.

You’re a regular. The employees at Cafe O’ Lay will even save you a strawberry danish on the days you usually visit. Some are even nice enough to let you use their employee discount once in a while (thanks, Hoseok).

This semester has been a little...different though. It’s all the same, for the most part. You still visit the shop every other afternoon after your classes, you still sit at your table by the window, and you get your latte and danish (sometimes just tea to spare yourself the sugar). There are only two differences this semester.

The first one is that you haven’t actually been doing any homework. You can’t even blame it on senioritis since you’re still a measly junior, but you might as well. At this point, you’re going to class every day with nothing in your bag but your laptop, your wallet, and a pen you found on the floor.

You honestly don’t get it. How can you spend hours each week at Cafe O’ Lay that are supposed to be fully dedicated to getting your assignments done and somehow still come home with nearly all of it left to do? Where does the time go?

You open your laptop, and the screen lights up with the Sims.

That’s it. That’s what you’ve been doing instead.

You’ve created a Sim version of yourself that you live vicariously through. No, it’s NOT sad or pathetic. No one can convince you that the Sims wasn’t created for this exact purpose.

Your Sim is amazing. You named her Y/N so you wouldn’t get too carried away, but she’s got clothes worth more Simoleons than you make dollars in a month at your part-time job as a secretary in the science building on campus. Your Sim is a successful actress, which is what you wanted to be after you starred in your grade school’s showing of Annie. Too bad your talent for theater at age 8 didn’t carry over to age 21.

Sim Y/N is everything good about you—she’s creative, funny, and outgoing—minus the emotional baggage and poor work ethic.

Jin found out about your Sim fantasyland one fateful afternoon when Cafe O’ Lay was closed, and he never lets you live it down. He says it’s his duty as your best friend to balance his love for you with a healthy amount of mockery.

It’s not your fault for getting lost in this alternate universe fantasy you created for yourself. Things are just better in the Sims. You call it coping and leave it at that.

And that brings us to the second difference in your life since the semester began: Jeon Jungkook. He’s apparently a junior just like you, a fact you found out from Hoseok and Google before you worked up the courage to ask him yourself. It’s not that he’s intimidating—how could he be, with his shining eyes and chirpy “Welcome to Cafe O’ Lay”—but it still took you a solid week before you were able to say more than “Hi. One small caramel macchiato and a strawberry danish please.”

You don’t have a crush on him, despite what your nosy roommates and Hoseok seem to think. You’re simply curious about him—that’s all. And who could blame you? Your eyes drift over to his form behind the counter, hauling boxes of syrup out of the backroom. He’s wearing his usual barista outfit: a stained apron over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Yum,” you all but sigh.

The girl sitting at the table next to yours looks up at you. Apparently it was louder than you thought. You hold your danish up and wave it at her.

“I highly recommend these!”

She lets her gaze linger for another painfully awkward moment before turning back to her laptop.

It’s like your mind is a whiteboard, your thoughts are the scribbles on it, and Jeon Jungkook is the fateful eraser. The only thing that saves you is your Sim, who set her kitchen on fire while trying to cook eggs. You exhale before bringing the danish to your mouth. At least you and her have more in common than just a name.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You look up from the Sims camping extension, instinctually slamming your laptop closed.

“You don’t have to do that. I already know that you’re playing the Sims.” Hoseok scoffs at your guilty expression before setting down a steaming mug in front of you.

You grin at him. “Oh? What’s this for?”

“Bribery.” Hoseok shoves his hands in the pockets of his apron. “Come to the open mic tonight.”

“Hmm.” You pretend to think about it, lifting the mug to take a sip.

“C’mon, please? I know it’s not your scene, but if there’s only 3 people there, I’m going to cry.”

“The 3 people being…?”

“Me, Namjoon, and Yoongi,” he says, not without a grumble.

“So your roommates? Who have no choice in the matter?”

“You don’t have to rub it in.”

You purse your lips. “I dunno. After what happened last time-”

“We all agreed to never force you to sing in public again,” He says with a strained smile.

“It was humiliating.” You stare into the tea Hoseok made you, trying and failing to suppress memories of Hoseok’s last open mic he hosted at Cafe O’ Lay.

Your friends all pressured you to sing a song. Jin even announced to the crowd that you’d had plenty of practice singing in the shower. Unfortunately, your short-lived musical theater days were well behind you, and it’s now one of the most embarrassing moments of your life. You’re sure your voice cracked at least 5 times, even if your friends assured you that it was angelic.

Your bad memories aside, it’s a nice event, where plenty of students gather to perform or speak. But hosting one now, mid-semester, when everyone’s starting to feel burned out? It’s either going to be a hit or an entire flop.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Hoseok reassures you.

“It was,” you deadpan.

He only chuckles in response, scratching at the back of his head. “Look, Y/N, I am promising you right now that you can just sit back and have a fun time watching everyone else. It’s no big deal. I’ll even bring you that overpriced gelato that you love.”

You look at him curiously, your interest piqued. “The lavender honey flavor?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t know, Hoseok…” You trail off.

“Jungkook will be there.”

Your eyes widen above your mug, and Hoseok’s smile relaxes into something much more smug. He’s got you, and he knows it.

Goddamnit.

“What? Why would that matter?” You fix your eyes back on your tea.

“Whatever, maybe it doesn’t,” He shrugs. “But he’ll be there. You know, if you wanna flirt with him sometime when he’s not working.”

“Shut up,” you say, swatting at him. He only takes a step away from your flailing hand and laughs.

You have priorities, you tell yourself. Essay to do, people to call, money to make, Sims to manage. Your priorities have always been a little fucked up though, and you’re never more sure of it after hearing the next words fly out of your mouth.

“I’ll be there.”

Hoseok cheers, earning both of you rude looks from other people studying in the cafe. “Great! Bring your friends!”

You don’t want to bring your friends. You really don’t. It’s not that you don’t adore them, but they have an intolerable urge to embarrass you in front of anyone and everyone.

“Y/N,” a sing-song voice calls from behind you.

Seokjin is on your bed, face smooshed against your heart-shaped pillow. His dark hair is fanned out on it, and he frowns when you ignore him. You can see him flailing around through your mirror, but you still refuse to turn around.

“No.”

“I don’t like that color on you.”

You frown at the orange jumpsuit you chose. “Who asked you?”

“You did,” he says. “You came home and said, and I quote, ‘Jin, please help me choose something to wear in front of the hot barista. I’m a fashion disaster, and I could really use your keen eye and lovely personality.’”

“I did NOT say that.” You turn around and fall onto the bed next to him.

“It’s okay, honey.” He pats your head like you’re a lost puppy. You hate how nice it feels. “I could see it in your eyes.”

You both lay on your crumpled duvet in silence for a moment. The sun is setting outside your window, reminding you of the time.

“Should I really change out of the orange?” You ask.

“Duh.” Jin stretches out his hands and sits up like a zombie. “Hurry up though.”

He runs a hand through his hair, dusts off his pastel pink hoodie, and checks himself out in the mirror before leaving. Unbelievable.

“Are you not gonna change?” You call.

“Nope.” He pops the “p” sound and grins at you. “I don’t need to. You, on the other hand.”

You throw your heart-shaped pillow at him, but he closes the door before it can hit him.

“Hoseok’s done it again.”

You think it would sound more flattering if it wasn’t Hoseok talking about himself in third person.

Something about the night has completely changed the cozy hole-in-the-wall cafe you’re used to seeing. The cafe is decked out in fairy lights that your friends ooh and ahh at in support. Hoseok beams at them, and you figure the least you could do is compliment is hard work.

The lights glow and change colors with the ebb and flow of the crowd in the cafe. There’s a decent turn out, and the sparkling lights and chilly air draw in more people to enjoy a cup of tea and live entertainment. It’s not like a club, where you feel smothered by the people packed against each other. People are sprawled around the cafe, mingling with each other and sipping drinks.

“See, I told you that you’d like it,” Hoseok says. His grin is almost too smug.

You roll your eyes. “It hasn’t even started, Hoseok.”

“Yeah, yeah. The sign up sheet is in the front. Stay away from it, please.”

He grins at you again before leaving you with Jin and Jieun at a nice table towards the back. You’re fine being in the back, and you’re fine staying away from the sign up sheet. You almost want to sing again, just to spite Hoseok. It says something about your friendship with Jin that he has the same thought.

“Let’s do a duet, Y/N,” he urges you, leaning over your shoulder. “It’ll drive Hoseok insane.”

He cackles right in your ear.

“We can do that without publicly humiliating ourselves,” you say.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Jin asks, bemused.

“She can’t be fun tonight, Jin,” Jieun says from the other side of the table. “That barista she has a crush on is here, remember?”

“Oh, right. Lame.”

“I’m right here.” You try to appear angry at your friends’ insults, but you’re preoccupied looking for Jungkook. You spot his familiar head of dark hair near the front, talking to Hoseok. “And I don’t have a crush. It’s just casual intrigue.”

“Ugh, I can’t watch this anymore.” Jin is gone before you can turn your head back to him. You figure he’s off to talk to some of his other friends who are around or maybe to run Hoseok up the wall. In ordinary Seokjin fashion, you expect him to circle back to your table once his social battery runs out. You give him an hour.

With one friend gone, you turn to Jieun.

“Which one is he, Y/N?” She stands on her tiptoes to see over the people that begin to gather around the stage area. “Which one’s Jungkook?”

“You’re so loud.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“Shut up, someone’s starting to speak.”

Hoseok introduces the open mic, reminding everyone to sign up and perform.

“Welcome, everyone! This is the first open mic of the year—yes, I know it’s April—and if tonight goes well, I hope we’ll be able to have more of these. There’s a sign up sheet going around if you want to perform. If you don’t, that’s okay too!” He lingers on you when he says that, and you resist the urge to hide.

Hoseok pats the stool at the center of the stage. “If you need any help setting up, me and the boys are right here.” He gestures behind him at Jungkook and Taehyung, another barista who usually works mornings. “Let’s get this party started!”

Everyone applauds and whoops, and you can’t help but join in on the fun.

The first one to go is the lovely Park Jimin. You know him from your part time job as a secretary in the science library. Jimin’s actually in science, unlike yourself, and he has bailed you out of answering scientific questions from students many, many times.

After Jimin sings a song that has the entire room swooning, someone else goes up to the mic and performs a slam poetry piece. You pointedly ignore Seokjin’s lecherous grin from the front, and you ignore Jungkook too. Jieun brings you coffee at some point, and the two of you enjoy the show.

In between acts, she leans over to you, and you rest your head on her shoulder. Friendship is what really matters, right?

“Y/N, hey,” she whispers. “What’s your plan of action?”

You straighten immediately. “What do you mean?”

“Well, sitting here and watching people sing is great and all. But you keep glancing over at Jungkook, and he keeps glancing here at you.”

“You’re just imagining things. Besides, I’m not going to leave you here.”

Jieun shifts in her seat beside you, and you can read the expression on her face like it’s the front page headline: Guilt.

“Listen, Y/N, don’t look now, but there’s a girl near the plant over there—I said, DON’T LOOK—who’s been checking me out.”

She’s right. The girl by the plant is cute, and considering the heart eyes she’s been sending Jieun, your friend’s going to get lucky. The guilty look, the girl by the plant, it’s all coming together.

“This wasn’t even about Jungkook,” you hiss. “You just wanted to get rid of me so you could invite plant girl over here.”

Jieun’s lowered eyes confirm your theory. “I see it as a win-win.”

If you thought Jieun was going to be any more supportive than Jin, you were sorely mistaken. Whatever happened to girl power? Women empowering each other? What happened to feminism?

When you voice your thoughts, she just laughs at you, a soft tinkling sound that’s 100% more melodic than your singing. “I’ll have you know I’m all for feminism, Y/N. I love women. In fact, I love women so much, I want to go over there and empower that girl over there.”

“Empowering and gay sex aren’t synonymous.”

“Says who?” And with that, she’s gone. So much for bringing friends.

You sigh, turning your attention back to the performer. It’s a student who you don’t recognize, but she’s singing a song while strumming an acoustic guitar. Her voice cracks—just once—and you swear you almost get flashbacks to the last open mic. You shudder, downing the rest of your coffee.

“Are you sitting alone?” Jungkook slides into the chair that Jieun left empty. He’s wearing a black hoodie over ripped jeans, and the minute he sits down, he begins absently drumming his fingers over his thighs.

You shrug. “I wasn’t at first, but my friends abandoned me.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he says. “I won’t abandon you.”

Your cheeks heat up, and you silently thank Hoseok for investing in color-changing lighting. At least the blue lighting doesn’t make it as obvious how flustered you are.

“At least, not yet,” Jungkook adds, a little sheepish.

You give him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“I’m up next, I think.” He gestures at the girl singing in the front and lowers his voice to avoid disrupting the performance. It seems like she’s nearly at the end of her song, and she hits a high note that elicits whoops from the crowds.

“Oh, you’re going to perform? What are you gonna do?” You ask. You spot Jieun at the other side of the cafe, next to the girl she abandoned you for. She makes eye contact with you and winks before turning back to the mysterious stranger.

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” Jungkook says. The lights change from blue to purple, casting colorful shadows on his face.

You lean forward, eyes sparkling. “Let me guess, you’re secretly a ventriloquist.”

“Damn, you got me. It was supposed to be a surprise.” He smiles, teeth and all, and your heart stops for a second. “What about you? Are you going to do something?”

You bark out a laugh, and you thank the applause in the room for covering up how loud it was. “Hell, no.”

“Sad. I wanted to see you sing.”

You freeze. “What?”

“Hobi mentioned that you sang last time. It’s a shame I never got to see it.” Jungkook smiles sweetly, and you can tell he’s being sincere. Poor, misguided Jungkook. You thank the universe that he wasn’t around for your traumatic singing at the last open mic. It’s bad enough that Hoseok and Jin would sing the same song around you to tease you, but if Jungkook had seen it? You wouldn’t be able to face him again.

“No, it’s really not. I’m not very good.” You scratch at the back of your head, not knowing what to do with your hands now that your coffee mug is empty.

“I’m sure that’s not-”

“Jungkook, get your ass over here!” Hoseok calls from the front. The girl who had been singing is putting her guitar away, and Hoseok waves Jungkook over for his performance. Jungkook’s face creases with panic for a fleeting moment before relaxing again.

Jungkook stands up, looking stressed, and you grab his arm for a moment.

“Hey, you’re gonna do great,” you tell him, and you mean it. “Puppet or not.”

He smiles, his eyes crinkling into smiles of their own. If only he knew how that smile turns you into putty in his hands.

As Jungkook and Hoseok arrange the stool and mic for him, you lean back in your chair. You were joking about the ventriloquy, but you wouldn’t put it past Jungkook. He’s odd, in an endearing and hilarious way. You know he’s artistic, if his experimental coffee art on your caramel macchiatos was anything to go off of. You never took him for a performer though, what with his shy personality and the way he blushes his head when you pay him a well-deserved compliment.

He settles on the stool, the lights shifting to an orange that makes him all but glow. Looking at him now, you can see it. He sits with confident posture and a slight tilt to his mouth as he surveys the audience. His eyes meet yours, and the ends of his mouth curl into a smile.

“Hi, everyone,” he says into the mic, waving a hand. “I’m Jungkook, and I’ll be singing a song I wrote. It’s called Still With You.”

There is a light pause before the music begins. It’s soft music that seems to fill the cafe with soft blue light when the colors change yet again, reminding you of a warm summer rain. The audience goes “oooh,” and you can’t help but join in. It’s already beautiful, relaxing, and freeing all at once.

Then, Jungkook begins to sing.

You don’t expect it. You definitely should have. His speaking voice is already beautiful; you should’ve expected him to be an amazing singer. There’s just something special about watching him, eyes closed, fully immersed in the music, singing with a voice that is as golden as 24 carat gold jewelry or maybe the sun itself.

“Might wanna close your mouth,” someone murmurs beside you, and you whip your head around to see Jin sitting beside you again. “A bug might fly in there.”

You don’t reply, you simply turn your attention back on the beautiful man on stage and pretend he’s serenading you on a rainy summer night.

It’s not just you. By the end of the song, the whole cafe is swooning and applauding Jungkook with a vigor he seems unaccustomed to. He blushes and ducks his head down to hide the ear-splitting grin on his face. He catches your eye when he looks back up, and the satisfied look in his eyes is your second reminder to close your mouth. You manage a grin at him, and his smile only grows wider.

“Thank you for listening,” he says into the mic.

A few boys swarm Jungkook, Hoseok among them, and you assume those are his friends. You take a deep breath and swivel on your chair to face the table. Jin is already looking at you, chin resting on his palm.

“I see it now,” he says with an infuriatingly knowing smile.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, despite your grumbles. “I get it.”

Jieun takes the moment to insert herself back into the conversation. “Who can get it?”

“Jungkook.” Jin says. Jieun doesn’t recognize the name and stares blankly at the two of you until he explains further. “The barista Y/N has a boner for. We literally had a whole conversation about him before.”

You bury your face in your hands. “Why would you say it like that?”

Jin shrugs. “It’s true.”

You can’t stop thinking about Jungkook. It’s interfering with your ability to pay attention in lectures, your focus when you’re writing your essays, and even the health of your sims. Even when you’re sitting in the cafe with a coffee, danish, and The Sims in front of you, your head keeps looking over at the counter and searching for the familiar dark head of hair.

“Are you whipped or what?”

“Huh?” You turn your head away from Jungkook. Jin’s sitting across the table from you since you’re supposed to study together on Tuesdays.

“You didn’t even notice me speaking to you because you keep staring at Jungkook.” He looks a little miffed, but it’s nothing a little attention won’t fix.

“Aw, are you upset that I ignored you?” You taunt, drawing your index finger down your cheek in a fake tear motion. “I’m so sorry, Jin. How could I?”

“That wasn’t my point,” he says, although he looks assuaged. “What I meant is that, you keep looking over there for a certain someone, and that makes me think that you have certain feelings for this certain someone.”

“I don’t speak riddles, sorry,” you say, eyes focusing back onto your screen where your Sim is talking to her Sim boyfriend. You know exactly what Seokjin is talking about, but that doesn’t mean you can’t pretend you don’t. For starters, it’s hilarious to play dumb with Jin. You love to see how annoyed he can get, how red his ears will turn.

“Fine. Let’s talk about your massive, pathetic boner for Jungkook the barista.”

Oof. To hear it said so plainly...it hurt a little bit.

“That was rough.” You look back up at Jin, and he lolls his head in the palm of his hand. “You can’t even be gentle with your best friend?”

“No.” The lack of hesitation makes you snort.

“Okay, well, I suppose I’ve been feeling like,” you begin to say, watching the interest pique in Jin’s eyes, “like maybe there’s a small chance that I’m a little bit infatuated with Jungkook.”

“Oh, a confession!” Jin straightens up and slams his palms onto the table, making your cup of coffee tremble. “I didn’t expect you to cave so soon!”

“It’s not a confession! Besides, you saw him sing. No one in that room escaped without delusional feelings for that boy. He’s insane.”

“Maybe you should tell him that.”

“And why would I ever do that? I like it here, Jin. I’m not gonna ruin my favorite spot just because of a stupid schoolgirl crush.”

“I dunno, I think the feeling’s mutual.” Jin snags a bite from your danish before you can swat his hand away.

“You don’t know that.”

“I have a feeling.”

“A feeling isn’t enough.”

Jin sighs. “You always do this, Y/N. You always have to wait until you’re 110% sure about something before you take a risk, and you end up losing the opportunity.”

“Sue me for being cautious–!”

“It’s not cautious, it’s self-sabotage!”

“Are you guys doing okay over here?”

You and Jin turn your heads to the intruding voice at the same time, and the shock on your faces is almost comical. In comparison to Jin’s sky-rocketing brows and wide eyes, you look like a fish, all but gaping at the barista who stands near your table.

“I heard you two having an argument, and I just wanted to check if everything’s alright,” Jungkook says, shifting on his feet. He fiddles with the ties on his apron, absently rolling them into balls and unrolling them in his fingers. You can’t help but be hypnotized by the motion.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Jin replies pleasantly. “I’m just helping Y/N get through one of her many issues.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows. “What issues?”

You blanch. Jin gives you a smug look, and you return it with one that’s nothing short of pleading.

“Nothing! No issues!” You assure Jungkook, coughing to cover up how shrill you sound. “You know me and Jin, the besties we are, always playing around. Sometimes I think we’ve been besties for far, far too long.”

Jin clears his throat. “It’s true. Y/N would be lost without me.”

You shove your elbow into his side, and when Jin tries to do the same to you, you grab his elbow. He lets out a frustrated noise. Jungkook stares curiously at the two of you, before his eyes light up.

“You guys remind me of myself and my older brothers.” His eyes are warm and affectionate. “We were always fighting, but it’s out of a place of love.”

Why is it that everything about Jungkook makes you feel warm, your chest a hot air balloon rising up and up and up? He proceeds to tell you about all of the antics he and his 2 older brothers get up to, all the pranks they pull on each other, and all you can do is admire him. Here he is, telling you about the time he covered the toilet seat with plastic wrap and videotaped his brother pissing on it, and all you can do is think about what a fun and lovely person he is.

Jin offers some of his own anecdotes from your past—fortunately not any embarrassing ones—before Hoseok is calling Jungkook back and scolding him for “fraternizing with the customers.” As if both Hoseok and Jungkook don’t already loiter around your table to chat every time you’re here.

The silence after Jungkook leaves is so thick, you think if you stuck your hand out in the air in front of you, it’d get stuck.

Jin steals the last piece of your danish while you take a sip of your lukewarm coffee. He chews thoughtfully before speaking. “He’s perfect.”

You nod miserably. “I know.”

With your undeniable crush on Jungkook, you think maybe you’ve been neglecting your Sim’s mental health and wellbeing. It might be insane to say so, but you can’t help but feel a pang of sadness for Sim Y/N. While you’ve been daydreaming about a certain hot barista, she’s lost her job as an actress (because she set the coffee machine on fire, ironically enough) and her Sim boyfriend left her at the altar. Or rather, he was kidnapped by aliens the night before their wedding, but either way, your Sim is going through a rough patch.

You check the time—it’s still afternoon. You have plenty of time before you have to write your next essay, this one about cultural diasporas through the ages. Your Sim hasn’t gotten out of the bathtub in 14 Sim hours, so you suppose it’s worth it to spend some extra time playing. It only takes a minute of watching Sim Y/N weeping in the bathroom to convince you that you should make a new Sim, a partner just for her. She’s done so much for you, she deserves it.

You spend the next two hours choosing the details of your new Sim. You begin to manufacture the ideal man for your Sim, and in some ways, for you. He should be a little nerdy, a little mischievous. Done, and done. He should be funny and shy at the same time, with a cute smile. Done, done, done. It makes you feel a little bit like Dr. Frankenstein when he was creating his monster, but you dismiss the thought when it’s time to choose the Sim’s outfit.

When your new Sim is complete, you survey your handiwork with satisfaction. He’s perfect, and he’s perfect for your Sim.

“Hey, Y/N, wanna try this new type of latte I’ve been experimenting with?”

You glance at the familiar voice with a bright smile. “Of course, when would I ever say no to free coffee?”

Jungkook grins and places the mug on the table in front of you.

Your eyes drop back to the screen to your new Sim, and an unsettling feeling strikes you deep in the pit of your stomach. You look back up at Jungkook. You look back down at the Sim. Back up at Jungkook.

“Is everything okay?” He asks.

Holy shit. You just made a Sim version of Jungkook.

You need a moment to process it, but with Jungkook staring at you with concern, you don’t have a moment to spare. You knew you liked Jungkook, but enough to create a Sim of him? Unintentionally? When you were creating your ideal man? It’s too much. The screen itself makes you feel exposed. All he would have to do to see the abomination you just created is look down.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. All good,” You sputter, closing your laptop, and the abrupt slam startles Jungkook. “Just looking at my grades.”

He cracks a smile. “That bad, huh?”

You sigh. “Even worse.”

“This might make you feel better,” he says, nudging the mug towards you.

The coffee that Jungkook created is steamy, covered in foam latte art that he’s definitely been practicing. Today’s art is a melting outline of a kitten, whiskers and all. It smells divine, like cinnamon and something else aromatic that you can’t name. When you take a sip, you want to melt, melt straight into the coffee and live there forever.

“Jungkook, this is amazing,” you breathe, your eyes closed to savor the taste on your tongue. “This might be my new regular.”

When you open your eyes, Jungkook’s moved to the seat across from you, amused and proud and bashful all at the same time. The glow of the afternoon washes over him from the window you’re seated beside.

“I’m serious, you could add this to the menu. Hell, you could start your own coffee shop at this rate.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Thanks, but don’t let Hoseok hear you say that.”

“Maybe if I tell him, he’ll start paying you more. You must be in demand in the cafe industry.”

“It’s true, I am.”

You take another swallow of the coffee, not caring about the foam collecting on your upper lip like a mustache.

Jungkook laughs louder this time, watching you inhale the coffee. “You got something on your face, Mario.”

Without a single warning, he’s leaning over the table and wiping off the foam from your upper lip. It’s a gentle swipe of his thumb, nothing more, but it stops your breath. You stare straight into his eyes; you don’t even risk blinking. Jungkook’s eyes are always starry and glittering like there’s an entire galaxy inside of them, even at 4pm.

You once told Jin and Jieun about Jungkook’s eyes, and they were less than enthusiastic. Jieun told you to save the whole “waxing poetry about someone’s eyes” thing for marriage, and Jin complained about how often he has to horny shame you lately.

Then, as if things could not get any more difficult for you, Jungkook takes his thumb and pops it into his mouth.

You follow his movements, not sure if you’re breathing or not. All he does is grin at you. “You’re right, it’s amazing,” he says.

He’s a maniac. He has to be stopped.

You can only blink at him.

Jungkook says nothing of your inability to speak or move, and he takes it as an opportunity to grab your mug and take a sip of it. “You know, it’s funny that you looked so horrified at your grades, since you’re always here studying.”

You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re even more screwed than you thought.

You’re good at the slow game. It’s like Jin said, you won’t take chances if you’re not sure. The only exception might be choosing anthropology as your major, and that was more out of pressure to choose a major than a meticulous and calculated choice on your end. If there’s anything that can break your cycle of hesitation, it’s peer pressure.

Unfortunately for you, your roommates know this about you.

Jieun lays on the couch with her head in your lap and you’re slumped onto Jin’s entire person. The three of you look like one disturbing mass of a human from far away, one with limbs sticking out at every angle. It’s a comforting tradition of yours, where the three of you get comfortable and snug on the couch and watch shitty movies together. Your side commentary is usually more entertaining than the movie itself, but that’s the point.

“What is the world’s obsession with fuckboys? I don’t get it,” Jieun complains, shifting her body in your lap.

Seokjin snorts. “It’s about confidence. And having a big dick. Everything is always about either of those things.”

“Or both,” you chime in. “Usually both.”

“Speaking of boys that Y/N wants to fuck…” Jieun eyes you, a small grin on her face.

Seokjin snorts again, and you can feel the movement in his chest from where you’re draped over him.

“That wasn’t what we were even talking about, dipshit.” You shove her lightly. She doesn’t even react to your push, but the mischievous light twinkling in her eyes tells you that she’s going to continue the topic.

“So? I needed a segue to talk about Jungkook.” Jieun says indifferently, as if she doesn’t feel you stiffen when she says Jungkook’s name. As a pre-law student, Jieun never had any qualms about interrogating you. She could always tell when you’re lying and when you’re telling the truth, better than you could yourself.

You heave a sigh. “You guys should just give up now. I’m not good at making the first move, you know that.”

“This is boring,” Seokjin complains. “We already know Jungkook likes you back.”

“What?” You sit up. “Did he say something about me? Did you talk to him?”

“No, I can just tell,” Seokjin says.

Your shoulders slump, and your friends laugh at you.

Jieun rubs your back soothingly, and you crash back down onto your awkward pile of bodies.

“It’s not enough to just KNOW.”

“Why not? My instincts are always spot on.”

“Like they were with Yoongi.”

“Don’t throw that name in my face, you whore.”

“I’M a whore?”

“Shut up!” Jieun all but throws the two of you off of her with the force of a much larger person. She huffs and glares at you, probably because you and Seokjin had started getting physical with each other and she had been collateral damage. “You guys are so annoying.”

Jieun turns to you first. “You—Y/N! Why are you making this harder than it needs to be? You like this hot barista-” You open your mouth to make a half-hearted protest but she beats you to it. “No, you like him! You made him a Sim, for god’s sake. That’s basically your love language. If he rejects you, which he probably won’t, then so what? You wallow, we buy you some gelato, and you move on.”

You hang your head in shame. Jieun makes everything sound simple, approachable, and much easier than you do. You’re the opposite, always seeing the intricate details before you even see the big picture. Your friends don’t have to say it, and you know they wouldn’t, bless their souls, but you’re a coward. Always flirting and making impulsive decisions then ducking for cover, hiding, and refusing to see the consequences.

But what if it could be simple? What if it is? What if you went up to Jungkook and told him “Hey, I like you, wanna go out?” You’ve said more to him before.

You take a deep breath and ease your worries with these thoughts, but before you can tell your friends about how the pep talk had worked, Jieun had turned to Seokjin.

“And you! Where do you get off, telling Y/N what to do? You danced around Yoongi for months. You put yourself in the friendzone!”

Seokjin appears to go through a similar internal battle as your own, only his doesn’t seem to have much of a resolution. You pat him on the shoulder before drawing both your friends’ hands into your own.

“It’s no use yelling at him now, Jieun, but this has been really helpful. Even though you guys are a pain, you made me realize that I might be a little stupid. But not anymore! I’m going to ask Jungkook out this week!”

For the sake of friendship, you ignore Seokjin’s mumbled “a little?” and Jieun’s fond eye roll.

“Seokjin, we can do it together!” You tell him, eyes bright. “You ask Yoongi and I ask Jungkook. It’ll be fun.”

Seokjin’s face falls by the end of your explanation. “It’s too late. Yoongi’s dating someone else. I saw him sucking Park Jimin’s face off the other day.”

“Good for him.”

Jieun punches your arm. “What Y/N meant to say is, it’s okay, Jinnie! There’s other fish in the sea.”

“Not like Yoongi,” Seokjin says forlornly.

“That’s rough, buddy,” you say, squeezing his hand.

“I mean, you’re a catch,” Jieun says, her pep talk never finished. “Who would turn you down? THE Kim Seokjin? Only a fool.”

“Only a fool,” you echo.

That seems to make Seokjin feel better, and you can tell from the way he sits straighter (his posture is no joke) and puffs out his chest like a bird that’s got the best nest. Instead of a nest, he’s got the best friends. It was mostly Jieun’s magic, but you like to think that your silent support means something too.

“Thanks, guys,” he says.

You missed a sizable chunk of the movie, but it’s not hard to pick up where you left off. You snuggle closer to your friends, and you think even if it doesn’t work out with Jungkook, you’re in good hands.

You’ve changed your mind. You love your friends, but if things don’t work out with Jungkook, you’ll be crushed. This is why you prefer to pine from afar, where your feelings aren't on the line.

It’s another quiet day in the cafe, and that only adds to your nerves. The calmness of the place guarantees some time to talk to Jungkook, but you start to get in your head. What if he only talks to you because it’s part of his job? Would it be better to ask him after work? When does he even get off his shift today? What if he rejects you, and the cafe is no longer a comfortable place? Would that even be a bad thing, since you’ve been spending way too much money on fancy coffee and danishes lately? What if you never speak to him again out of sheer humiliation? What if he never speaks to you again because of the awkwardness?

Your mind is a breeding ground for doubt. Even watching Sim Y/N and Sim Jungkook dance together at their neighbor’s party isn’t enough to calm you down or distract you. Your Jungkook-like Sim isn’t actually named Jungkook. You named your Sim Y/N to ground yourself in reality, and for the same reason, you couldn’t name her partner Jungkook. That would be too far, even for you.

Instead, his name is Jongkook, and he’s a bartender.

Yeah. You think it’s embarrassing too. It’s why you’ve been even more vigilant to hide your Sims whenever Hoseok or Jungkook float around you.

Today your mind seems to be elsewhere though, and when you hear an intentional cough from behind your shoulder, panic immediately courses through your veins.

“Is this what you do instead of studying?”

You turn to the right, and Jungkook is all but resting his head on your shoulder, peering at the Sims on your screen. He’s so close to you that you can smell his soft linen and coffee smell, but you can’t even enjoy it. Instead, you want to scream. You open your mouth, but you’re frozen. Is this sleep paralysis? God, you hope so.

Before you can shut your laptop off, he registers what he’s looking at. “Is that...me?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“N-no, no, it’s not you,” you say, voice cracking.

“You even spelled my name wrong.” He tilts his head curiously at Jongkook the Sim. “It’s Jung, not Jong.”

“I-I-I-”

This is your worst nightmare. This is it. You thought your worst fear was singing in public again, but nope, it’s this right there. You can only watch Jungkook in horror as he squints at your Sims, taking in their names, outfits, appearances.

“Wow,” he says, turning to you, “this is really thorough. Tell me, do we have children yet?”

You choke on your own spit.

“No! This isn’t based on you!” You sputter, trying to create some half-assed excuse on the spot. “These aren’t my Sims, they’re my friend’s. I was just, um, watching them for him.”

Jungkook looks at you closely, his eyes twinkling in the cafe’s lights. You can hear your heartbeat knocking, no, banging, against your chest. You can hear the blood pounding through your body, in your ears, and the twinkle in Jungkook’s eyes makes you think he can hear it too.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/N,” he says, his voice sounding like a song with a melody that you can’t place. “Besides, I’ve known you were playing the Sims for months now.”

Somehow, that’s what does it for you. Your jaw all but unhinges. “You what?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re not as stealthy as you think.” Jungkook laughs, and it hits you that he is laughing at you.

You lift a shaking hand to shut your laptop, finally. “I have...I should go.” You sound weaker and softer than you intended, your voice trailing off into nothing. The sound of the coffee shop bustling around you saves you from further embarrassment.

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “Hey, I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You avoid looking him straight in the eye, standing up and packing your stuff up with the finesse of a baby deer. Your hands fumble with your laptop charger, and it falls onto the ground. Jungkook attempts to gather it off the floor with you, but Hoseok being a competent employee saves you for once.

“Jungkook,” Hoseok calls. “Jungkook, get the F over here or else I’ll really say the F word in front of all of these people.”

You meet Jungook’s gaze when you stand up with your charger. He looks at you with concern, his eyes asking you what he did wrong. You feel too exposed with him looking at you like that. He waits in front of you for one moment, one long moment, before you move towards the door and he moves towards the counter.

By the time you’re down the street, you let out a breath. You feel dampness on your face. You raise your head to the sky, and when you realize it’s not raining, you crumple a little bit more.

The door is loud when you open it, like the sounds of the keys turning in the door and the sound of entering your empty apartment alone are amplified somehow. Seokjin finds you later, silent and face down on your bed.

“Oh, no, honey.” He sits beside you, running a warm hand through your hair. You turn towards him and wrap your hands around his torso. He hugs you back even though the position is awkward.

“Jungkook saw my Sims,” You say, partially muffled by his thigh.

Seokjin pauses thoughtfully. “And what did he say?”

“He laughed.”

Seokjin gives you some comforting pats on your back. “What did you want him to do?”

You shrug helplessly against his leg, and he sighs.

In the week that you’ve been studying in the library instead of Cafe O Lay, you’ve done 3 essays. You actually started them early too. Of course, that might be because you no longer have the heart to play the Sims, but you blame the distracting environment of Cafe O Lay. It’s a coffee shop, after all. Not the perfect place to study. Especially not with certain people roaming around, flexing their forearms while they mix shakes and absent-mindedly pushing their hair behind their ears.

You’re holed up in a table in the quietest nook of the university library. This is really the perfect place to study. You should come here every day. Your grades would probably skyrocket.

When you shift in your chair, it makes a squeaky noise. Someone shushes you, and you whisper a “Sorry” that’s met with a hiss.

You cringe and turn back to your essay.

It’s silent for a long time—so long that you lose track of the passage of time. When you glance at the time, you realize only 10 minutes have passed since you got here. Staring at the glossy finish of the table, you come to terms with a few different facts:

The library is not for you. It’s too quiet. The people are not friendly. Who are you kidding? You’re miserable here.

You miss coffee and danishes. How are you supposed to get shit done if you’re hungry and tired?

You miss Jungkook. You definitely have a massive boner for him, in the eloquent words of Kim Seokjin. You miss his jokes and his funny expressions and his laughter.

You’re startled from your trance by the sound of two plastic cups hitting the table. Even more startling is the face of Jeon Jungkook, smiling down at you.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper, alarmed when he sits himself down in the seat across from you.

He quirks a brow and pushes one of the drinks towards you before taking out his own laptop. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m studying with a friend.”

Studying with a friend? He brought you a drink? He smiled at you? You try and fail to keep the bewilderment off your face. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. You do see the ends of his mouth curl up when he takes a sip of his drink.

It’s something cold with a lot of whipped cream and sugar and coffee. He even got the little caramel sprinkles on top that he knows you love.

You can feel your forehead pinching from the effort it’s taking you to resist this drink.

“What’s the catch?” You ask, although your hand is inching towards the drink of its own will.

Jungkook shoots you a bemused look. “Why would there be a catch?”

You can’t find a logical answer for him.

True to his word, he starts pulling study materials out of his backpack: a notebook, a textbook, a pencil case, a laptop, over-the-ear headphones.

To say you’re bewildered is a massive understatement.

It takes you a few minutes of fumbling and blatantly ogling Jungkook, who patiently smiles back at you, before you can relax your shoulders and spine.

An hour later, he’s still there, deeply immersed in whatever he’s studying. You know it’s been an hour because you’ve been watching the time slowly tick since he got here. You’ve been watching Jungkook’s eyes flit across his screen and his hands jostle restlessly and his leg bounce under the table and his hair brush against his eyebrows. There seems to be no point in doing essays to distract yourself from a certain someone if he’s sitting right in front of you.

At one point, he pulls his headphones down to rest around his neck and shuts his laptop. You busy yourself with clicking and typing at the 1 page, mostly empty word document that’s open.

“Y/N,” he says.

You look up at him like he’s caught you off guard. “Yes?”

“Are we gonna talk about it?”

“About what?”

He sighs. “About how I saw your Sim of me and then you ran away and haven’t been to the coffee shop since?”

Wow, he was straight to the point, wasn’t he?

You sip at the drink he got you, as if it’s not empty. The straw makes a loud sputtering noise that has several students glowering your direction.

Jungkook waits.

You bury your face in your hands. “Can’t you tell? I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sorry you had to see that, that I even made you into a Sim in the first place. That was probably the most embarrassing moment in my life.”

“What’s so embarrassing about it?”

“You laughed! You knew about the Sims all along!” You catch more people trying to telepathically kill you and you lower your voice. “Oh my god, you’re laughing right now.”

Jungkook looks like he’s using every muscle in his body to prevent himself from laughing. You suppose that should count for something.

“I’m not laughing,” Jungkook says, grinning. “Okay, I am laughing, but not because it’s embarrassing. I think it’s cute. No, I think you’re cute.”

“You what?” Your voice is so loud this time that you get an actual “Shush!” from someone.

Jungkook’s shoulders shake silently from how hard he’s laughing. You throw all your things into your bag haphazardly and drag him away.

A moment later, you’re sitting on the stairs in the emergency stairwell of the library.

“You WHAT?” Your eyes must be bulging out of their sockets, and you’re staring at Jungkook like he turned green and pregnant and started speaking Simlish. Not unlike Jongkook the Sim bartender, who was the next alien abduction victim..

Jungkook beams at you. “See? Cute.”

It shouldn’t be so mind boggling that someone finds you cute, but you’ve always had anxiety around love and romance. That’s why you never approach people you’re attracted to, and it’s why you never intended on pursuing Jungkook.��

“Tell me something,” Jungkook says, sitting down on the stairs next to you. “How did Sim Y/N and Sim Jungkook meet?”

“At a bar. He works at a bar.”

“Are they happy together?”

You hum. “They were happy, but then he got kidnapped by aliens and returned the next day green and pregnant. Sim Y/N was upset about that.”

Jungkook nodded sympathetically. “The baby’s not hers, huh?”

“Nope. It’s very tragic.”

“Is there any hope?” Jungkook nudges you with his arm, and you turn to face him.

Your faces are much closer than you realized. Every cell in your body is screaming at you to turn away and scootch farther away and maybe even tell Jungkook you are unwell and go home immediately and never see him again. Maybe not every cell though. There’s one that sounds suspiciously like Seokjin, and it’s telling you that there is hope, for maybe more than just your Sim. It also tells you to stop self-sabotaging your life.

You somehow manage to stay there and enjoy staring at Jungkook’s sparkly galaxy eyes up close.

“Yeah, I think so,” you tell him. Your voice isn’t more than a warm breath.

Your eyes drop to his lips, and you spot a mole on the bottom lip. You lift up a hand to touch it, but you stop yourself before you can.

Jungkook puts a hand against yours and interlaces your fingers. He stands up, lifting you up along with him.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” he says, searching your face. “Like a date. Is that okay with you?”

You nod, and the ends of your mouth are floating upwards like balloons. You smile so widely at Jungkook that you fear you’ve accidentally cosplayed as the Joker. He cosplays as the Joker right back.

You trudge hand in hand back through the library.

“Let’s go get coffee,” you say.

Jungkook groans loudly.

Someone shushes you again, and the two of you hightail it out there, giggling like the lovesick fools that you definitely are.

A/N: I had a blast writing this 2 YEARS ago, and then I left it unfinished in the vaults like I do with every work of writing I start. I rediscovered it recently, thought it deserved an ending, and here I am posting it! I am so glad I could finish a longer one-shot for this blog even if I'm not actively writing fanfic anymore. Hope you enjoy!

#jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fluff #bts au #bts jungkook #jungkook scenario #bts writing #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic

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zuppizup · 5 days

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Angsty Rayllum baby centric fic ahead. Read the tags, my lovelies

———

Rayla hates being pregnant. Not for the typical reasons people joke about to her, though she is frustrated with how ill she feels, and how delicately everyone treats her.

No, she hates how anxious it makes her. How every moment feels filled with thoughts of the baby, if she is comfortable, if she is growing…

If she is alive.

After all this time, she finds she cannot relax.

From her swollen belly it is clear that the baby will be born any day now, but she finds her worry only grows with each passing day. She doesn’t think it will abate until she finally holds her baby in her arms, until she can truly see she’s real and well and… alive.

They’ve been through this too many times before. Her heart cannot take one more break.

Not this particular one, at least.

It’s been broken many times before, she thinks, but this type of loss is something different. Mourning for what might have been is so different from mourning people that were, that others knew.

It feels silly and pointless. Why be sad for what never was? Why look upon an empty crib and think of the baby that might have been but over and over never was.

This one seemed to stick.

It came to a point where her frame could no longer hide and the rumours were growing and growing and eventually it seemed ridiculous to try and dismiss the obvious.

She hated all the well wishing though. All the congratulations and the excitement.

The hidden losses robbed her off her innocence, she thinks.

Everyone seems to see this as a time of joy, of celebration.

It feels wrong for her to dampen others spirits with her constant concerns.

And so, even now, as people seem more and more excited and happy and confident, she wants nothing more than to shy away, to be alone. Just her and Callum.

She does not want to mourn with an audience.

Callum is supportive, as he always is. Patience and understanding. Always willing to listen.

She cannot explain the ache though. The fear. The anxiety.

She doesn’t want to breathe life into it.

He doesn’t believe in fate, has defied it more than once in his defence, but she cannot help but worry… what if she’s bringing this upon them? What if her endless running thoughts are the reason why they never stay.

She’s gazing at the full moon when the first ache hits her. Dull at first, but persistent. Callum is snoring behind her, and she elects not to wake him because who wants to be woken for bad news?

She’s felt this ache before.

Eventually the pain becomes too much though. She cries out, despite her best efforts and Callum wakes suddenly.

She worries he’s going to yell at her, annoyed that she kept another thing from him, but instead he rushes to the guards, insists they call for the midwife and that’s when it truly hits her.

The baby is coming.

The midwife is too far away and Rayla has no idea what she is doing. She was too afraid of tempting fate. The books Callum procured for her untouched on her bedside table.

True to form, Callum has been reading and he coaches her through it.

She thinks she can’t do it, it’s all too much, too painful, too terrifying but then there’s a pain worse than anything she could ever imagine, followed by a tiny, strangled cry and Callum is laughing and crying and looking between her and a pink, sticky bundle in his arms and she realises, the baby is real, screaming and grasping... and alive.

And a boy.

Tiny and pink and screaming and perfect and real.

She cries too as she holds him, strokes his tiny squished cheek and finally feels herself relax.

He’s here.

He’s real.

He’s alive.

He has Callum’s eyes and her nose and perhaps both of their lungs because he is clearly furious about the bright or the cold or something but Callum swaddles him in a blanket and pushes the hair back from her sweaty brow and he’s crying and she is too, and they have a baby, a real baby, a tiny little son.

Even now, days later, it all seems so surreal. He’s got over his abrupt and sudden entry to this world (as babies do) snuggled against her breast and sleeping soundly. Callum is sleeping too, drooling on her shoulder, his arm lazily lying across both of them.

She smiles at him, still amazed by how much their son looks like him… by how much love and adoration she feels for both of them. How warm and happy and content she feels.

She looks at her beautiful, healthy, amazing son and the man that helped her bring him into this world and feels she can finally relax.

She assumes people would scoff to hear it, new baby and all, but she feels she can finally rest.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #angst with a happy ending #tw: pregnancy #tw: pregnancy loss #just like… angst and concerned Rayla people #the dragon prince #tdp #rayla #callum #zuppi tumblr ficlets #my brain be going places

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oneatlatime · 7 months

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Zuko Alone

I'm hoping for some Appa this episode. It's been too long since he's gotten any good sight gags.

Zuko is cosplaying Clint Eastwood. He's also back to being stupid pale this episode.

You know it's a good thing that Zuko's not in the Fire Nation anymore because he really would have sucked at being Fire Nation. Robbing pregnant women is probably kindergarden level stuff for them.

How is Zuko in such bad shape? Last time we saw him he had a cave full of spoils robbed from rich people. Did he not bother to pack at least some of that stuff? Actually, not thinking far enough ahead to pack would be pretty in character.

Oof that would rub me the wrong way. Not enough money for a meal, but sure, let's use totally edible eggs as ammo.

Where'd the egg go?

Who is the scarred up hat wearing vampire and what happened to the real Zuko? Imposter Zuko just elected to not be provoked into a fight. Real Zuko would already be setting things on fire.

Just a bunch of thugs. Yep. It's consistently awesome how many of the facets of war this show can cover.

Imposter Zuko and Song's horse bird just got kidnapped. Did not see that coming.

Zuko kind of has arm bandages like Sokka has this episode. Also love the character detail that the boy has scraped knees.

Is the kid's dad the same guy as the man at the store? Or maybe this is a one haircut town?

So the guy who was near to fainting off his horse bird this morning is now turning down freely offered food? Could Zuko please shelve his pride for five minutes? Kudos to the mom for accurately reading his distaste for charity and turning it into a request for aid though. Although covering for the boy's egg trick is worth at least a meal.

Tangent!

I don't get Zuko. How can he still have so much pride when he's wearing rags and starving himself to feed Song's horse bird? I'm quite shameless when it comes to accepting help and I've never, ever been able to understand the whole 'too proud to accept charity' mindset. I'm always up for some charity. I have enough manners to offer to do the dishes after, but if you're offering free food I'm eating it. And I've never been in a situation as desperate as Zuko's. So I don't get this.

ok tangent over.

Peak rich kid behaviour. I hope those nails aren't expensive otherwise Zuko doing work for food might end up with this family out of pocket.

Is the wood grain on this ladder an actual photograph of wood grain?

Zuko has more patience this episode than he had for all of season 1 combined. He's also never gone this long without yelling. Either proximity to young children activates Zuko's otherwise mostly slumbering decency, or to fit him into a Fistful of Dollars homage the writers had to make him out of character.

If I had been in this situation when I was a kid, if I had been a) this visibly bored, and b) this nosy around guests, I would have been given a hammer and a bag of nails in three seconds flat. Also, nice to see a Sokka face from Zuko.

I get that 'a man without a past' is a staple of the cowboy genre, but the boy's father bringing up the privacy of the past twice in like two minutes makes me think he's done stuff he doesn't want to talk about. Seems both the parents have read Zuko right though.

Finally! Some pretty! I have been suffering! This may be the first really good pretty all season!

Bad news for the Appa decor on my blog. He may have been supplanted in my affections.

Two things: first, Zuko is a carbon copy of his mom. Second, That is way too much forehead.

Having Zuko's mom introduce herself by talking about the lengths mothers will go to for their children is not giving me foreshadowing anxiety at all.

Azula's been a bitch since birth. Noted.

Sir, your eyebrows. Also, yeah, I wouldn't want to play with her either.

Yikes this is making my teeth itch and my skin crawl. Calling it now, she's rotten to the core.

Zuko and Azula's dad has some weak ass genes. BOTH of his children are carbon copies of their mom.

Also, I was not expecting Zuko's very stupid ponytail to be a pre-scar thing. It is much better with a full head of hair.

If I had spent my childhood hanging out with an untouchable princess who set things on my head on fire for fun whenever I involuntarily displayed emotion, I'd be gloomy and apathetic in self defense too.

Sokka in this episode in spirit, if not in person.

Seriously that's the same face three times over!

Um, no? If Iroh doesn't make it back from the front, doesn't his son become next in line to be Firelord?

Can you hear all the unspoken "father thinks that" and "father says that" in front of every one of Azula's opinions in this whole scene? I stand by my assertion that she's awful anyways, but she's also obviously drunk much too much of her dad's koolaid, if you know what I mean.

This kid is going to get into so much trouble one of these days. Provoking the soldiers, nagging the mysterious stranger with the mysterious past, and now taking his weapons? Kid's sweet but he really needs to learn when to stop pushing his luck.

Stabbing dead, dried wood sounds like a great way to utterly annihilate the edge on those. Hope Zuko packed a whetstone.

Where is this patience coming from? I don't understand and it's BUGGING me.

Hold on. Technical problems.

My very basic DVD player sometimes has difficulty with these disks. Whatever happened between the above two screenshots, I've missed it. So picking back up from the one on the right...

Either these soldiers are impressively cowardly (which, yeah) or Zuko's really been working on his death glare, because they've got him outnumbered and out-armoured and they still back off.

OH it's parallels! Zuko's cousin and the boy's older brother. Got it. Kind of a false parallel though. Grandson of the Firelord does not equal earth kingdom conscript.

Give the demonstrably impulsive and nosy child a knife. That'll work out just fine I'm sure. Pretty sad the kid glommed on to Zuko so quickly, but it's also yet another realistic representation of the consequences of war. This show's good.

*shudders* theatre kids.

She's tiny! Do you know how darkly humourous it is to watch a two foot tall baby spout her father's murderous nonsense? Once again, in this whole scene, not a word out of Azula's mouth is actually Azula's.

"What is wrong with that child?" Apart from budding homicidal and psychopathic tendencies? Her dad. Her dad is what's wrong with that child.

Their dad has no subtlety at all. And also no brain? You think a day after the firelord finds out one of his family died is the right time to very boorishly make a play for the crown with you daughter as a prop? Could you possibly come up with a better demonstration of why this guy shouldn't be in charge?

How did this asshole land such a nice wife?

Yep. Siding with the old firelord on this one.

Does flashback Zuko sleep in his day clothes? Because that's not ok.

I like that their mom sees straight through Azula's lying here. She knows her daughter.

In a move that should surprise no one, everything Zuko touches turns to shit, as usual.

It's the Mexico filter!

Absolute truth from Zuko in that monologue. He's got them pegged. Too bad it fell on deaf ears. It's Zuko's curse, that whenever he approaches being remotely reasonable, he happens to be surrounded by people who will react in such a way that Zuko learns to equate being reasonable with failure.

An earthbender. The bare feet should have clued me in.

Last season Zuko and Iroh laid waste to like ten of these guys. And Iroh didn't even have pants. So what gives? Is he that starved?

Ursa pulling a Mufasa.

Don't answer don't answer don't answer

And he does.

Zuko is so very good at completely misinterpreting the point.

So we can add thief to the list of things that make Azula awful. Also that delivery of "who's going to make me? Mom?" is chilling. Zuko's lost his only defender inside this atrocious family and she knows it, he knows it, hell the turtleducks probably know it.

His dying wish? You guys buying that?

Ozai. That's his name. I'd forgotten that.

So... something something dead firelord something something missing mom something something maybe Azula wasn't actually lying this time?

Final Thoughts

The title wasn't kidding. Let's rename the show 'Avatar: the Guy who's Really Bad at Capturing Him' while we're at it.

There is now no way whatsoever that Zuko is not going to be redeemed. No writing team would invest that much energy and a whole episode into a character we're not ultimately supposed to root for. So somehow he's going to end up joining the Gaang. Don't know how he'll pull that one off. He's done some pretty not great stuff. And it's not like the Gaang watched this episode and unlocked his tragic backstory.

Speaking of, what prompted these reflections? I could understand if Zuko started to contemplate his cousin and the events surrounding his loss in the war after he learned about the family's older brother, but he was having flashbacks before he even got to town. Usually when there are backstory bits, there's a good reason to show them at that time, like how the Storm prompts Aang to think about the last storm he was in, or seeing a boat from his father's fleet prompts Sokka to remember what his dad told him. So what caused Zuko's memories to give him situationally appropriate flashbacks?

Pretty funny that he found the Nice Earth Kingdom Family that Azula predicted for him. And they are really nice! Either Zuko is an open book or the parents' social intelligence is off the charts because they're giving him exactly what he needs to feel at ease after barely a single conversation.

Speaking of Azula, I'm not surprised to find that she's always had deeply awful tendencies, even as a child of (I'm guessing) less than ten. But it cannot be ignored that, from the moment her father took a liking to her (as a tool to boost his own greatness, if not as a person), she didn't stand a chance. You can tell by the number of times that the stuff coming out of her mouth is a thinly veiled repetition of her father's unfiltered opinions, that she's been spending lots of time listening to him, probably while he puts down her mom and brother and talks about how she's the special one. You know what I'm getting at. Azula never stood a chance once her father got involved, and her mom lost the ability to influence her once her father started giving Azula praise for objectively wrong behaviour. That being said, Azula is awful even when she doesn't need to be awful for her father's approval, like when she's with her friends, so it's not all her father's doing. She's not a good person but she also had plenty of help to become that.

I guess Zuko and his mom are Fire Nation anomalies? And maybe Iroh has become that since his son died and he lost the war?

How on earth did Zuko survive as long as he did in the palace without his mom to protect him? What a no-win situation to be in. The only person in a whole nation with empathy.

This episode does makes Season 1 Zuko make more sense. He's been larping his dad as a defense mechanism for surviving the Fire Nation/probably a very futile effort to earn his approval. Although Zuko doesn't seem to care much for his dad if the tone he takes with him by the turtleduck pond is any indication.

Being banished was the best thing that ever happened to Zuko. The more distance between him and his remaining non-uncle family, the better. Between prioritizing his crew over capturing the avatar in the Storm, releasing the Avatar in the Blue Spirit, and now defending a random earth kingdom child this episode, it's hilarious how much Zuko HASN'T learned the lesson that Ozai banished him for not knowing. Don't get me wrong; that's a good thing. This episode plainly shows that behaviour that pleases Ozai is behaviour that should be unlearned as quickly as possible.

Zuko completely missing the point of his mom's last instruction is delightfully on the nose. But it also makes sense, which I may talk more about later.

How did Zuko hold on to his temper (and his volume) for a whole episode?

How did a show named after the main character get away with an episode that doesn't feature him at all? As a concept, this is such a strange episode. The writers were like "how can we kick start the woobification of Zuko? I know! A Spaghetti Western!" and it worked. Who comes up with that?

I now want at least as much, if not more, of Sokka and Katara's childhood via flashbacks. And more Gyatso please. If they can devote a whole episode to the childhood of a guy who isn't even a team member yet, they can show me some Sokka childhood shenanigans as a palette cleanser.

I really don't know what conclusion to draw about this episode. The writers have given me a massive backstory/trauma dump and I'm honestly like:

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #zuko alone #I really don't know what to make of this one

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dumbslxtclub · 11 months

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you're on your own, kid | e.m - part twelve

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: as your relationship with eddie blossoms, the weight of truth reaches it's breaking point.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 20, anxiety, heavy angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, brief mention of vomiting

word count: 10.8k+

a/n: some of this was inspired was inspired by the poem ‘i wish i were two dogs then i could play with me’ by anne carson. I apologise for the long absence, life has been crazy but I’m very proud of this chapter and I hope you enjoy! sorry in advance for the angst it’s about to get real. as always, shoutout to @dickfics69 for helping me xx

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog @reidstea @sashaphantomhive @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86 @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2 @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord @eddiesbabe95 @taintedcigs @harry-bowie-mercury @micheledawn1975

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Part Twelve: Lovely To Sit Between Comfort and Chaos

Who knew scanning video tape barcodes could be so fun? An inherently arduous task made tolerable thanks to the warming weather, every monotonous motion laced with sun-soaked dopamine. The stale interior of Family Video is washed in a stream of sunlight, the clear sky leaving no interruption for the desired warmth.

The chill of winter has all but dissolved, the new season budding in blossoms dancing in lush trees and children without jackets in the park. But, beneath the surface, something more has begun mingling in your blood. Your veins are laced with the giddy joy of a new beginning, something fresh and exciting. Like the first pages of a good book, popping open a fresh bottle of wine. As with all beginnings, they have their own tonality, an addictive vibrancy that makes them so elusively special. Ebbing with firsts, ‘what ifs’ and unadulterated hope. Leaving you behind the store counter with a schoolgirl grin, completing the most mundane of tasks with enthusiasm. With every video returned into the system, another mountain forms as Robin returns to the front desk. She picks up the two latest additions from the pile, examining them with scrutiny.

“Woof. 9 ½ Weeks AND Body Heat? Someone had a big weekend.” She places them onto the steel rolling shelves, beginning to categorize the sections. Monotonous doesn’t even begin to describe the store’s activities, Robin falling especially victim to their dullness today. “Speaking of, did you get up to anything interesting?”

“Well, Audrey’s learnt how to chuck her bottles across the room. So I guess you could say things were pretty wild around my neck of the woods.”

“Guess I’ll cancel her pee-wee baseball lessons then.” She quips back, busying herself with the tapes.

It’s a funny thing, dishonesty. How it sits on the roof of your stomach, digging its heels into your gut whenever it sees fit. You’ve elected not to tell Robin about your date with Eddie, nor your second kiss, for a myriad of reasons. As your closest friend, you understand that she is just looking out for you, protecting your vulnerable heartspace. With your connection to Eddie growing, complication is bound to follow. And in such a budding stage, it just doesn’t make sense to make a mountain out of a molehill.

When you’d first approached her about your potential date with Andy, she’d responded in a similar manner, driven by protectiveness. But you knew, she could see an innate craving for something more than she could provide. It was only natural. Your new identity was tied to being a mother, full stop. It had been a long time since you felt wanted, attractive, desired. A longing to be wined and dined, treated like so much more than milk-providing breasts on legs. And she wanted you to get back out there, into the real world and away from your comfortable nest of motherhood. You are strong, Robin is well aware of this, fighting the urge to protect you and Audrey from the big bad world. Of course, hindsight is a funny thing, and she should have ripped Andy a new one before he had the chance to do anything stupid. To assume he was capable of being a decent human being for an evening was clearly expecting too much.

But with Eddie, it’s so different. Comfortable in ways you couldn’t articulate, you felt a sense of consistent safety you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Life has just become easier with him around, day to day tasks much more enjoyable in his company. And so, you’ve resolved to just dip your toes into the idea of it evolving into something more. It’s not so much lying as it is withholding the truth.

With the final tape scanned in, you toss it onto the shelf, nearly bowling over Robin’s efforts in the process. She shoots you a warning glare before sighing, glancing melancholically at the clock.

“Ah, all that stands between me and a turkey sandwich is…” She picks up a video at random and glances down at it. “... Xanadu?! Oh my god-”

She drives the cart around the corner, cussing out the poor customer's choice in film. Smiling at her antics, you busy yourself tidying the cluttered desk. Taped to the monitor is a curated collection of film pictures Robin had Jonathan develop. The ultrasound photo still sits in prime position, with a copy of the hospital image below it. Another picture is tacked to the corner of the screen showing you and Robin cuddled up in bed with Audrey sandwiched between you, all in accidentally coordinating shades of blue. You remember that night, Eddie had dropped by after work and lost it laughing at the three of you perched in bed like the grandparents in Willy Wonka, quickly racing to the kitchen to retrieve Jonathan’s camera. Moments immortalized in stillness, energetic happiness radiating out of them.

So lost in the memory, you barely register the sound of the bell above the front door ringing.

“Late return charges got you grinning like that, sweetheart?” Averting your gaze, you watch as your babysitter of choice enters the store. Eddie shoots you a warm smile, one hand gently supporting the black carrier strapped to his chest. Audrey, pacifier in mouth, faces outwards with limbs dangling aimlessly in the confines of the holder. It’s hard to miss the small purple bow clipped to the crown of her head, something that was not part of her ensemble when you dressed her this morning. Like maneuvering his own personal puppet, Eddie picks up her limp wrist to wave it in your direction. The docile baby glances up at the metalhead with curiosity, seeking out the phantom manipulating her arm.

“I can’t rent you R-rated films with a minor present, I’m afraid.” You quip with a smile, pressing your palms into the counter.

“Shit.” Eddie points to the door, backtracking a step and glancing down at Audrey. “Let me just go and tie her up out front real quick, alright?”

“Please don’t tie my daughter up on the street like a dog.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about her.” Eddie grins. “But maybe we should lock in that date before we break out the ropes and collars, hm?”

His comment immediately causes your cheeks to flush, suddenly feeling stifled in your sickly green vest. Images of compromising positions flood your mind, notably featuring the handcuffs strung up in Eddie’s bedroom. An awkward chuckle escapes your throat, Eddie’s smile faltering at the sight.

“I- I mean… fuck, oh-” His hands quickly fly to Audrey’s ears, protecting her from his cursing. “- just, pretend I never said that, okay?”

“Not a chance. You’re never living that one down, Munson.” Your melodious laughter sets Eddie free. “Where’ve you two been today?”

“Y’know, just all of her favorite places. Had to head into the shop to pick up my paycheck, the guys couldn’t get enough of her. ‘Specially Bob, or Ed, I forget- he’s been going on about her for weeks so I thought if she visited he might shut up about it.”

“Using my daughter as bait? Classy.”

“You know me all too well, sweetheart.” He’s quick to catch the pacifier as it tumbles out of Audrey’s mouth, her face screwing up in disgust while he tries to feed it back to her. “Oh, and she met a dog today. It was a beast of a thing, a Rottweiler or something. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her so excited, she grabbed its ears and everything. Thought it might bite her head off. It did lick her on the face though, but I suppose that’s good for her immune system.”

“Sounds like you two have been on quite an adventure.” With Audrey now within arms reach, you lean over the counter to give her a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes light up at the sight of you, giving Eddie enough time to quickly shove the pacifier back into her mouth.

“Speaking of which… what are the chances of you getting work off this Friday afternoon?” His voice is hushed, and laced with an edge of the cheekiness you’ve come to adore. With a quick survey around the shop, you inspect to make sure Robin is out of earshot.

“I think I could pull some strings.”

“Good, good. I might have something fun planned for us.” Eddie smiles sheepishly, readjusting the weight of the carrier. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Henderson might finally be ready to go solo with Squid.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, I mean- I didn’t see anyone chewing on the electrical cords so that’s an A in my books.”

“Glad to see you’ve got high standards.” You tease, the grin on Eddie’s face only growing..

“I sure do.”

Quick question, what the hell does one wear on a date? For your outing with Andy, Robin took charge of your wardrobe and crafted an outfit with complete ease. The stakes were lower, you suppose, not overly concerned with your appearance. But for today’s mystery date with Eddie, you’re finding yourself digging into the deepest crevices of your wardrobe for something that screams I’m trying, but not too hard. And, as fate would have it, nothing is jumping out at you. That shirt? Too old. These pants? Don’t fit anymore. Those socks? They’re Audrey’s, not sure how they got in here…

Huffing, you plant yourself on the floor in a nest of unacceptable garments. Your daughter sits peacefully in her bouncing recliner, gaze contently following your every move while she gums at her caterpillars antennae. Grabbing two half decent short-sleeve tops, you hold them up in the baby’s direction.

“What do you think, little miss?” Audrey continues her chomping assault, not at all interested in your predicament. You sigh, tossing the shirts into the pile of mediocrity. “God, it’s easy for you. You look cute in everything.”

Articulating your last word with a tickle, you drink in the way her mouth spreads into a toothless smile. She’s really beginning to grow into her own looks, her features forming beyond the universal blob baby look. Her hair is getting a slight wave to it, still comedically thick on her head. Pouty lips combined with her chubby cheeks give her maximum squishability factor. And as you look down at the mess of clothes covering the floor, you can’t help but cast your mind 16 years into the future. Rummaging through your daughter’s wardrobe in search of the perfect first date outfit, taking her to the mall just outside of town hunting down the dreamiest of prom dresses. It’s all racing by before your eyes. A spiral begins to form if you think about it for too long, so you quickly dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

In the end, you decide to keep it simple. A boxy button-up paired with some acid-wash mom jeans and a leather belt. Your hair is on its last legs before wash-day, so you elect to tame it with a bandana wrapped at the nape of your neck to hide the greasy mess. And Converse to complete the ensemble, because, you know, you don’t have all day. Your babysitter will be here any minute.

Dustin is smilier than usual, if that’s even possible. Grinning from ear to ear, watching you dart across the room with his hands on his hips. Making no effort to help you find your keys, but rather engaged watching your one-man Monty Python sketch.

“All ready for your big date?” The teenager articulates the last word with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. It stops you in your tracks, shooting daggers his way and doing little to wipe his smile away.

“For the last time, it’s not a date!” You lie through your teeth back to him. “I told you, we’re just going to hang out as friends. Adult friends. You know, without the presence of a baby.”

“Sure, sure. So, you got all glammed up for nothing?”

“Oh my god, I am not glammed up!” Glancing down at your outfit, you subtly worry that you may come off as trying too hard.

“I’m just saying…” Dustin throws his hands up defensively, the traces of a smile still playing on the corner of his mouth. “... you do look really nice, though.”

A humble grin makes itself known, abandoning your fruitless search to cross over to the younger boy. With figures like Steve and Eddie in his life, it’s easy to see where Dustin gets his chivalrous manners from.

“Aw, thanks, Dusty.” Flinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him in for a tight squeeze with the explicit purpose of embarrassing him. The teenager relents quickly, giving your back a firm pat as you hold him to you in a vice grip. Giggling at the way he squirms in your arms, you take a few wobbly steps to keep him locked into place.

Burrowing your face into his mess of curls, you allow yourself to indulge in the comfort of his embrace. He’s always been a cuddly kid, and perhaps you weren’t aware of how much you needed this until now. The pair of you stand there for a beat, allowing the moment to morph from playful teasing into genuine support. Two kids, sharing a history of pain, guilt and loss. Finding solace in one another, the older enveloping the younger and soothing whatever lingering ache burns beneath their collective sorrow. He misses Steve. God, how he misses him.

It seeps through the pores of his fingertips, gently caressing your spine in small circles. As if, if you were to listen closely, beyond the dull hum of the refrigerator and the scattered bird calls outside, you could hear it. The tiniest voice, buried beneath unkempt curls, asking will it ever go away? And you both know the answer. It won’t, but you’ll learn to live with it. Together.

Biting back the swell of tears wetting your tongue, threatening to make themselves known, you refuse to crumble before him. Not today. Not on a day as happy as this.

If it’s true that Eddie has little experience with dating, he sure as hell masks it well. With a handful of daisies clutched in his fist, he’s the epitome of confidence as he raps on your door three times. Claiming the flowers were for Audrey (and definitely not for you), he quickly shuts down Dustin’s insinuations before shuttling you out the front door to his chariot. He always opens the door for you, but the small gesture makes you giddy with girlish excitement. And as soon as he joins you in the dingy interior, positive the pair of you are out of Dustin’s prying eyeline, he leans over the center console to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. The brief contact causes your heart to skip, chapped lips meeting soft skin so casually it’s disarming. A calloused thumb brushing your chin, edging your face in the direction of him, drinking in every imperfection dancing across your skin in the fading afternoon light. Noses lingering inches from one another, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes preceding a Cheshire-cat grin.

“Ready for our next adventure?”

With a nod, clicking the gears into drive, the van rolls out of the sun-bathed trailer park and onto the winding roads out of town. It’s easy, the silence that exists between you while you tune out to the sound of whatever metal cassette is shoved into the car’s stereo. Pulling further and further out of the small town, away from the noise. The bustle of life, the judgemental whispers. To some unknown destination, where the two of you will be free to just be.

It comes into view around half an hour into the drive, sticking out like a sore thumb against the lush forest surrounding you. A kitschy, neglected sign with what appears to be a beaver toothily smiling down at you, waving its unoiled, mechanical arm at passers-by. Silly Putter Mini Golf. Pulling into the tiny parking lot, you study the loud canary yellow clubhouse building while Eddie clambours out of the driver’s side. It’s totally cheesy, down to the pathetically flickering lightbulb on the welcome sign. And you couldn’t love it more.

Swinging the passenger side door open, your date extends his ringed hand outward.

“Ready to get your putt on?”

With utmost ease, Eddie sinks the ball on his second shot. You could be mad at his seemingly god-given talent, but it’s hard to stay upset watching his hips sway like that in those dark jeans. Even at a children’s putt-putt course, he’s shown no interest in dressing more family friendly. Under your breath, you mutter praise to the inventor of muscle tank tops, now privy to the way his sinewy muscles flex with each stroke of the golf club. Occasionally, the handle of the club would clink against his wallet chain draped out of his pocket, drawing your attention back to his narrow hips. As far as you were concerned, you were a winner tonight, regardless of the scores.

“Yes! Gotta catch up, sweetheart. I’m beating you by…” He pulls the small scorecard out of his back pocket and grins. “... five points.”

Shooting a distrusting look in his direction, you pace to meet him on the prickly astroturf.

“What?! I thought you said it was three?”

Snatching the page away, Eddie holds it tauntingly above your head. He swings it around like a kite, mocking your stature while the only other family here passes by you with milkshakes in hand.

“That was before you hit the windmill twice on the last hole. Bit embarrassing, if you ask me.” He pokes, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. “Tell you what. You make this in less than two shots, I’ll call it even. Even throw in some fries afterwards, as a sign of good showmanship.”

A competitive energy charges through your body, a daring smirk playing on your face. Through your lashes, you challenge the metalhead’s smug demeanor, flirting with the notion of friendly competition.

“Deal.”

With a newly confident stride, you make your way to the fluorescent pink tee you’d picked out for yourself, placing the equally obnoxious green ball atop it. It’s a fairly easy set up, two small hills creating a valley that would lead you straight to the hole. A mechanical crocodile snaps out of the wall sporadically, directly in line to your goal, hinges chomping at nothing. You assume the stance, needing to bend over slightly to accommodate the child-sized putter you were gripping. The crocodile seems to be popping out every five seconds, and so you brace yourself until it begins its certain retreat. Drawing your putter back, you hear it click against the ball, knowing immediately you overshot it. The ball rolls over one of the bumps in the turf, into a direct line with the crocodiles elongated snout, sending it back in your direction with a pathetic tumble.

“Shit.” You groan, attempting to tune out the smug laughter behind you. A tattooed arm comes into view over your left shoulder, pointing to the red flag sticking out of the ground.

“The holes over there, sweetheart.” Eddie quips matter-of-factly.

“Gee, thanks. What would I do without you?” Shooting daggers at your entirely too-smug date, you elbow him in the ribs before setting off in the direction of the ball. It seems your jab did little to quell Eddie’s laughter, who quickly catches up to you.

“Think you need to work on your form.”

“There’s a form needed for mini-golf?”

“Mhm, form I possess by the bucketful.” God, he’s a smug little shit sometimes.

Incredulous, you welcome his challenge with wide-open arms. “Alright then, genius. Enlighten me. Show me how it's done.”

Eyebrows disappearing into his messy bangs, Eddie’s doe eyes twinkle with boyish mischief, a prominent dimple playing deep into his cheek.

“Here.” Placing his hands on your shoulders, he maneuvers you in the direction of your goal, now partially obstructed by the protruding crocodile snout. “Line ‘er up.”

He angles himself around you, back pressed to abdomen, warmth emanating from the thin cotton of his shirt against yours. His feet shuffle to either side of yours, boxing you into his cradling hold. Snaking his bare arms along yours, starting at your elbow, each finger wrapping gently around the girth of your forearm. He lingers a moment too long, you don’t complain. Slowly working his way down to your wrists, locking his digits around the boney flesh. Breath on the nape of your neck, adrenaline pumping too fast for you to look anywhere but the lime-green golf ball at your feet.

“That’s it…” His chest rumbles against your ribcage, coaxing vibrations of praise causing your fingertips to go numb. “Nice and gentle, okay?”

One slow nod is all you manage, feeling his gaze burning into your profile. You watch as the rusting reptile makes itself known against the fake grass, gaping jaws ready to foil your next putt. As it begins its retreat, you take a deep inhale, feeling your ribs expand against the comfort of Eddie’s sternum.

“Go.” Barely a whisper is required, his lips so close to your ear you can practically feel their plush sanctuary. In tandem, Eddie gently pulls your wrists sideways before encouraging you forward with perfect momentum. Metal meets plastic with a firm thud, propelling the ball forward. It rolls, and a collective breath is held. As if the future of the world hinges on this single stroke. Picking up sand and debris along the way, the bright sphere travels across the turf towards its goal. It hits the lip of the hole before tumbling in with a clatter, sending your arms skyward in celebration as you discard the putter.

“Yes!” Gleaming with joy, you spin on your heels to press a firm finger into Eddie’s chest. “In your smug, stupid face, Muns-”

Victory is swiftly cut short as an arm wraps around your hip, grip settling in the groove of your waist. You slot perfectly into the crook of his lean body, softness meeting strength entirely channeled into closing the gap between you. The sheer momentum of it knocks a sigh loose from your chest, clinging to the anchor of his chest with bunched fists entangled in his shirt. His free hand nestles beneath your chin, a firm thumb pressing and guiding your eyeline up to his. Eddie shines with pride. Smiling from ear to ear, shaking his head at your antics with pure amusement, feeling the contagion of your joy.

Angling your chin slightly higher, Eddie presses his lips down onto yours with fervor. A blend of your two previous encounters, it’s passionate yet careful, a marriage of wanton desire and delicate care. You lean into it, drawing him closer by the cloth adorning his torso, chasing the taste of his kiss. As if to commit it to memory, to learn how it sits in your mouth and if the needy aftertaste ever dissipates. Muscles not just for decoration, but with the greater use of keeping you pressed intimately to his body. His thumb brushes against the groove of your jawline, dancing across the expanse of skin he is yet to be acquainted with. But there will be time for that later. Eddie is the one to pull away, a proud grin still plastered on his face.

“Good job, sweetheart. Ready for your prize?”

Food always tastes better when someone else is paying for it. The fries have the perfect crunch to them, the outer a golden brown against the fluffy white potato now filling your mouth rapidly. Eddie claims that they only came in a package deal with two cans of soda, but you have an inkling he may be lying about that. Your date watches as you shove the greasy food into your mouth, taking a long sip of his Coke.

“Looks like you’re enjoying your winnings over there.”

“Mmm-“ You mumble through a mouthful of starch. “Feels like there’s a birthday party in my mouth.”

Eddie’s brows furrow with amusement at your choice of words, shaking his mane of curls.

“Shit, actually, there’s something I don’t know about you. When is your birthday?”

Swallowing the thick mass of carbs, you slyly redirect your gaze to the quickly-emptying plastic basket before you, picking at a few deep-fried crumbs.

“Next week…” You pray to the heavens your admission was mumbled low enough for Eddie to catch it as some ambiguous month in the distant future. But it seems the years of heavy metal assaulting his ear drums has done little to subdue his sense of hearing.

“Next week?!” Theatrically, Eddie slams his soda down on the picnic table, likely taking off some of the tragic peeling paint in the process. He looks positively incredulous, brows raised to maximum height behind his bangs. “And you’ve been keeping this a secret, why?”

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal-“

“Not that big of a-“ Fingers splayed on the periwinkle blue wood, he braces himself forward with a deep inhale. “Sweetheart, now I’m gonna have to plan a big bash in less than a week. How could you do this to me?”

As if it’s the biggest inconvenience he’s ever encountered. Chuckling nervously, you wave your hands in a flurry before his deadpan expression.

“Oh no, absolutely not. Uh-uh, not happening.”

“But-”

“Eddie.” Your tone is firm, gaze boring into his. “I’m turning twenty, it’s not even an exciting number. Plus, I have a baby, in case you forgot. Not sure how many nightclubs would let the pair of us in. If it means that much to you, I’ll have you and some of the kids over for a movie. That’s my limit, though.”

Eddie huffs, resolving himself to defeat. “Fine. No strippers, then.”

“Oh, now that you mention strippers…” A grin takes over your face as you waggle a fry in his face, likely sending salt fragments onto Eddie’s shirt. Before you can bring it to your awaiting mouth, he swats the perfectly good fast food out of your hand, sending it catapulting to the ground for some poor, underpaid teenager to clean up later.

“Party in your mouth, huh?” He quips, stealing the larger of the two potato sticks stuck to the paper lining the basket. He pops it into his mouth with a grin, shooting you a suggestive look.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

The energy between the two of you is so, so easy. You sip your cool soda, indulging in the sugary carbonation clinging to your teeth. Eddie does the same, studying a terribly constructed pyramid situated on one of the holes. No pressure to speak, or not speak, just basking in the glow of one another’s company. The air is cool under the downlights, a mild spring evening setting the scene for what a true date night should look like.

“I’ve gotta ask-” You begin through a mouthful of food, somewhat unceremoniously. “- how’d you get so good at mini golf? I just wouldn’t expect you to be the kind of guy to spend his free time at a place like this.”

“Ooft, judging a book by its cover, are we?” Eddie places his drink back on the picnic table, grinning beneath the fluorescent snack bar sign.

“Oh, never. Heavy metal and putt-putt go hand in hand, as far as I’m concerned.”

Eddie shakes his head, grinning while he peers down at the condensation accumulating on the metal can.

“I, uh- I used to bring Dustin out here.”

“Dustin? Really?”

“Yep.” There’s a loaded silence between the pair of you, something that isn’t uncommon as you exchange stories of your past. “After, um- y’know, everything happened. He kind of… shut down. A bit like you did, for a while. Didn’t want to play DnD, or see anybody, really. So this one day, I just drove over to his place and dragged him out of bed saying ‘C’mon, butthead. I’m taking you outta town’. He kicked up a bit of a fuss, but I just sort of army-marched him out the front door. We drove around for a while, not really talking and stumbled on this place. He shot me that stupid grin of his for the first time in forever, so we came in. It sort of became a weekly thing after that, and I hate to admit that I actually enjoyed it after a while.”

Swirling a fry around in too much ketchup, your meal is all but forgotten as you find yourself enthralled by Eddie’s recollection. That all too familiar pang of sadness returns, regret manifesting quickly in your body. You wish you were there for Dustin. You should have been. You wish you were stronger earlier, able to provide him with the care he so desperately needed. In the past few months, you’ve watched the teenager really step up, busying himself with baby books in order to be the best ‘uncle’ he could be. He’s a close second behind Eddie when it comes to making Audrey smile, lapping up every second he gets with her. God, Steve would be so proud of him.

“He’s a good kid, even if he’s an annoying little shit sometimes. And Steve…” His thought trails off, running his finger around the edge of the soda can. “... Steve was good for him. Gave him someone to look up to, a role model sort-of. Almost like a big brother, I guess. So I didn’t mind running around a shitty mini-golf course with a creepy beaver sign if it made him happy.”

Abandoning your meal, you reach across the table to take Eddie’s hand in yours. The tips of his fingers are cold from the refrigerated beverage, and you wrap your palm around the icy skin with warm reassurance.

“You’re a good man, Eddie.”

Eddie’s lips curve into the most imperceptible smile, humble and felt almost entirely inward. For a fleeting second, he wonders if that could be true.

Eddie was meant to drive you straight home. The roads were quiet at this time of night, no traffic bar the occasional truck making its way in the opposite direction of the small town he unfortunately called home. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this full. Not literally, of course, given you guzzled down the majority of hot food before he had a chance to get to it. But it didn’t matter, not the slightest.

He felt proud.

Proud while he watched you dig through the bucket of tees, looking for the perfect Barbie pink one that wasn’t chipped or dirty. Proud of his excellent golfing form, thankful for all the practice he’d gotten through restless evenings with Henderson. Proud of the way you jumped up and down, hands raised to the heavens as you sank your shot in half the time it had taken you on every other hole. Proud of how he scooped you into his arms, like every cheesy rom-com he’d had the displeasure of watching. Proud of the part he had to play in your happiness. Proud to be seen with you.

He was meant to drive you straight home.

He had every intention of doing so.

Satiated with pride, he could resolve to spend the remainder of his evening grinning stupidly to himself in the isolation of his room. The humble home across the trailer park suddenly feels closer, anyway. Until, your hand snaked its way across the center console onto his thigh, your touch feather light but the weight heavy. For a brief moment, he wonders if you reached for something but overshot, a simple mistake. And then, you linger. Fingernails scratching the course denim clinging to his legs, shockwaves sent down his skin with every delicate stroke. Absent-minded. Loaded.

He knew the stakes had just been raised.

The two of you had been close like this dozens of times before, particularly in your pregnancy. Eddie never saw the need for one of those pregnancy pillows advertised on late-night infomercials, when you apparently saw him as the perfect substitute. Back then, those exchanges meant almost nothing. A tiny back scratch here and there, drawing small circles on your forearm while you dozed off with your entire body weight pressed to his shoulder. Thoughtless interactions, designed purely to comfort and set you at ease. The familiarity that has perhaps always existed between the pair of you, now morphing into something new.

Thumb smoothing the faded-black material, tiny rotations etched over and over.

Hypnotic.

The bravery that overtook him was phantom, ghostly desire edging his knee ever so slightly further in your direction. As if to say please, don’t stop. I’m right here. His eyes remain firmly locked onto the dark road, using only the occasional streetlight to guide his path. Besides, he doesn’t need to look at you to feel your gaze on his cheek. Not that he could bring himself to, if he tried. He wonders if he blacked out earlier. Got hit in the head with a rogue club and passed out, ascending to a heaven in which he would be fortunate enough to experience such a sensation. Heart pounding in his chest, he lets out an unsteady exhale as your fingers snake deeper into the groove, caressing at more sensitive flesh. Inward, where the skin is far more sensitive.

Eddie isn’t a greedy man.

Until he is.

“Baby…” The foreign pet name slips out as a moan, barely perceivable beneath the soft hum of the cassette’s tune filling the car at a low volume. Somehow, in those two syllables alone, he crosses a line. Bares his soul to the wolves, knowing well the potential ramifications, the bloodshed that follows vulnerability.

The digging of your fingernails into the meaty flesh at his utterance is his breaking point. The green light he sought out. With cautious fervourency, he pulls off the road quickly, wheels clattering along the asphalt excuse for a truck stop. The car is quickly clicked into park before the metalhead can cognise it, tearing the constricting seatbelt off his body. Your hand never leaves its spot.

Turning to you, wide-eyed with want, he pauses. Gives himself whiplash from the flurry of activity leading to the sudden stillness. It’s intrinsic, no need for words anymore. Redundant wastes of breath.

His lungs hitch, adrenaline pulsing in the tips of his fingers.

Can we?

Lips parted ever so slightly, a rise of your chest and dazed fluttering of eyelids answers.

Yes.

It’s not clear who lunges first. What is clear is how your bodies instinctively shape around one another, quick to absolve the space between you. Lips collide with lips, desperately seeking respite. Wanton moans are pulled effortlessly, fistfuls of hair tangled in clammy fingers drawing the two of you impossibly close. Imperfect fumblings as shirts are clutched desperately, fueling the fire burning in the pits of Eddie’s stomach. The pace is entirely unsteady, soft brushes bleeding into firm tugs of teeth piercing tender flesh with just the right amount of force. Embarrassing, unadulterated need at the forefront of every motion, and neither of you cared. God, it’s almost perverse. How Eddie corrupts something so soft, so sweet, with every fevered kiss. Like he’s tainting you with his taste, as if he could lap enough of you up and absolve his unworthiness. The likelihood of that working is slim, but god damn Eddie is willing to try.

It’s still not enough.

The plastic console separating you is driving him mad. He needs to be able to grab, clutch, caress every square inch of you with no obstructions. You make him bold.

Bold enough to slip his wandering hand beneath your far thigh, the smallest hithering motion enough to feel the weight shift above his palm. Unceremoniously, you clamber over the glove box after unclipping your seatbelt, haphazardly swinging your foot into the horn. The beep echoes through the isolated rest stop, a mumbled apology being quickly swallowed by Eddie’s lips. Blindly guided, he directs your knees to either side of his hips, showing no qualms with the limited driver’s side legroom. His hands find your hips, tentatively hovering above his lap, shaky thighs taking the brunt of your weight. With small, caressing circles of your hip bone, he soothes you as he always has. Encourages you to share the pressure, begging to be the bearer of it. No wrong answer, only whatever you’re comfortable with. Perfect the way you are.

Ringed fingers press gently into the small of your waist, drawing you closer still to his body. This seems to encourage you to relent to your tiring muscles, finding solace on Eddie’s tense thighs. A safe distance, but so close to danger. To unbridled want. Neither of you care.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as you speckle kisses along his cheek, dancing down his jawline and finding sanctuary on his neck. Nipping slightly at his pulse point, he can’t help but squeeze a bit tighter. Relishing in your exploration, mentally mumbling Hail Mary’s for his good deeds from past lives that lead him to this euphoria. A gasp escapes his throat as you latch onto a particularly sensitive spot, causing his hands to seek refuge on the meat of your hips. He squeezes, eliciting a similar wanton moan that vibrates against his stubbled skin.

“Is- is this good?” A sentence loaded with various meanings tumbles out, his grip loosening slightly.

“Mmm.” You murmur, tracing the familiar trail back along his jaw and to his aching lips. “So good. So good to me, always.”

A knot forms in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. So good. So good. For you. That’s all he’s ever wanted to be. It fucking underscores every day, trying to do right by you. Constantly trying. He lives for it. For the smiles, the exhales of safety, the reassurance, the comfort…

It’s gotten him more hooked than a drug ever could.

So why.

Why can’t he accept it?

The praise, the love, everything you dish out effortlessly. But to want and to deserve are very different things, the latter being something that Eddie factually knows he is not entitled to.

It returns, a tidal wave of despair crashing over his heart, encasing it in a riptide of emotional debris and darkness. The taunting ticking of the second hand that haunts him constantly, the grip on his happiness slipping…

“Hey.” He gasps out, ringed fingers grazing your cheek as he pulls away. So close still he can see the flushed-red outline of your lips, the blissed out expression in your eyes quickly morphing to concern.

“Shit, you okay?” You pull back, brushing a loose curl out of the frame of his face.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” A stabilizing breath does little to quell the erratic beating of his heart. “Just- maybe we should, like, take things a bit slower? I- I just don’t want all this to be too much, too fast.”

Brows furrowing slightly, it’s hard to miss the minute disappointment reflected across your face.

“Oh. No, yeah, of course.” Letting out an awkward chuckle, your unoccupied hands take to fidgeting with your now-loose blouse. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get carried away…”

“No, no-” Eddie reassures, a smile growing on his sore lips despite the gnawing ache in his chest. “Fuck, you were- it was perfect.”

A bashful grin cuts through the nerves etched into your skin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” God, you make him too bold. Cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he dips forward to steal another miss from you. “Just want to do things right. Be a gentleman and all that.”

“You? A gentleman? Since when?” You poke.

“Since always.” The tone returns to easy as always, if not charged with a certain afterglow of electricity.

“So, what’s the next step in the courting ritual then?”

“Dunno. Guess I’ll have to pull off a grand gesture of some kind.”

Thursday afternoon, counting down the minutes until the clock strikes 5pm and frees you from this grind. Happy fucking birthday to you.

Robin has been fussing over you non-stop for the past 24 hours. Apparently, a little birdie told her about your upcoming birthday (something you’d diligently kept private), sending her into a frenzy. She insisted on at least taking you out for dinner to celebrate your birthday at Benny’s, and practically stuffed her version of appropriate birthday attire into a duffle bag this morning for you to change into post-shift. In all her festive glory, she returned from her lunch break with a pink-frosting covered cupcake and tried to involve no less than three customers in a group rendition of Happy Birthday that was less than successful. And despite the unwarranted theatrics, you can’t deny your gratitude. Seeing how she dotes on you, dedicating her every movement that day to your happiness. And frankly, it’s not dissimilar to every other day. The love, the care that the two of you feel for eachother simply heightened for your first day of your twenties. Luck has never been a word you’d use to describe your life, but today, it feels fitting.

Keith has been goaded into closing the shop up solo tonight, Robin sparing no detail of the utmost importance to this diner dinner. She’d also arranged for Eddie to bring Audrey along, clocking in around 12 total hours of unpaid babysitting and a bushel of brownie points. Then, once the grown-ups have hung out, some of the younger kids will bike to the trailer park for a late-night movie. Spending the remaining hours of your birthday with everyone you love.

The small bathroom cubicle adjoining the workroom is cluttered with makeup and clothes, the two of you primping yourself in privacy. Tonight’s outfit of choice appears to be a band tee, tied at the waist with a flowing maxi-skirt, clashing in your mind but makes sense to Robin, apparently. To level the playing field, she dug out some of your nicer boots for the occasion. Internally, you worry for Audrey, and how it’ll be once Robin realizes she has two life-sized Barbie dolls to dress up. But secretly, you like it. It feels very you, whatever that means now. Comfort meets expression, an identity crafted beyond Mom.

Smiling at yourself through the rusty bathroom mirror, Robin swipes on her mascara.

“How do you feel? Older and wiser yet?” Robin asks, eyes bugged out in concentration.

“More of the former, I’d say.” You chuckle.

“What about the outfit? I felt pretty proud of it, very rocker-chic meets fairy princess.”

“It’s great, Rob. All of it.” Lips pursing together in an emotional smile, you drink in the image before you. You look your age. No dark circles or fine lines present, concealed under just the right amount of makeup. Hair just the way you like it, not confined to a three-day-old ponytail. You recognise her, from another life. The girl you used to be. And she’s so happy to see you.

Robin shoves the mascara tube into her tote bag, throwing it over her shoulder. “Ready to hit the road?”

With a nod, you hold the door open for her, the imposing fluorescents of the video store coming back into view.

“Oh, nearly forgot. We’ve gotta make a pit stop along the way, if that’s alright with you?” Following her trail, the two of you burst out the front doors and into the brisk evening towards your Pinto.

“Sure.” You reply. “Just lead the way.”

“Robin, where the hell are we?” Glancing around one of the seedier streets of Hawkins, you shrug your handbag a little closer under your armpit and remind yourself that you did, in fact, lock your car. It’s fairly innocuous, an assortment of goods shops and a vintage record store, but you’ve never ventured this far into the heartland. Robin is a few paces before you, studying the signs of various closed businesses along the road. Her face lights up as you approach one particular building.

“Bada-boom.” She announces with a proud grin, stopping in front of a large, black building. The paint is sun-faded, lined with scratched-off band posters graffitied with lewd scribbles. Against the dark sky, your only indication of the name etched into the doorway awning comes in the form of a passing car blaring its lights.

“The Hideout?” It rang a bell, yet you could not work out for the life of you what the two of you were doing here. “Dude, is this a nightclub? It’s a Thursday!”

“Not exactly…” Her brazen smile makes you slightly nervous. “More of a live music venue. I’ve just gotta pick something up from here, then we’ll be off to dinner. ‘Kay?”

“Alright, maybe I’ll just wait outside-” “No!” Robin quickly clears her throat. “I mean- I’m not leaving you out here on these mean street all alone without me to protect you.”

Shooting you a bright smile, you have to take at face value that she’s being entirely serious right now. Locking her arm through yours, she urges your unwilling feet further to the entrance.

“Is it even-” Answering your half-finished question, Robin pushes open the door to the venue, the interior pitch-black. “Are we even allowed to be here?”

“Yes, dingus! Just c’mon…” Once again, you’re placing literal blind faith into your closest friend. She might as well have tied Eddie’s bandana over your eyes as she did at Christmas, nothing but the slightly sticky floor beneath you to guide you forwards into oblivion. Her arm is your liferaft, swimming through pitch-black waters towards god knows what. In the distance, you hear a strange scuffling of feet, not belonging to either you or your co-worker. It sends chills down your spine, suddenly feeling very out of your depth. It’s disorienting, and totally alien.

“Seriously, Robin. Can we-” Your hushed tone is directed to the girl beside you, who stops in her tracks. You plant yourself beside her, the strangest feeling of being able to make a figure out through the void before you. A fleeting moment of movement, another shuffle of shoes on tacky wood ground.

And in the flash of an eye, brightness burns your retinas, momentarily blinding you. It forces you to squint, a desperate attempt to identify these unfamiliar surroundings. A spotlight of sorts bears down on you before Robin quickly releases you from her vice grip and jumps to the side. But as one sense is returned, another is quickly abused, a raucous sound brutalizing your eardrums.

“Surprise!” Numerous voices call out at the top of their voices, unable to be individually dissected amongst the barrage of confetti poppers bursting into the sky. As your eyes grow accustomed to the warm spotlights around the venue, you make out familiar shapes. A mess of scruffy curls buried beneath a baseball cap. Two young boys with arms slung around one another jumping up and down, perfectly manicured bangs flinging haphazardly. The flash of a camera you’d borrowed months ago. There’s only a few of them, but their energy fills the space tenfold.

And, at the center, you see a lean figure with a Kirk Hamlett haircut raise a squirming lump high above his head, not unlike a certain Disney movie that wouldn’t come out for another good eight or so years. Eddie, in what can only be described as his best cut-off band tee, proudly holds Audrey high above the group, her chunky legs bunched up to her body as she looks around entirely confused. As the last syllable of their celebration dies off, as if on cue, Audrey’s face screws up in a dramatic pout, a loud cry echoing through the venue at a volume the others only could hope to have achieved. Eddie’s face quickly transforms to worry, eyes squinting with embarrassment.

“Oh, fu-” Eddie quickly lowers her, cradling her head towards his collarbone. “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you, Squid.”

Shushing her and pacing a step towards you, he bounces your baby from side to side. Her cries begin to lull, her fist tucked tightly at his clavicle for emotional support. Likely giving his neck a few scratches from her razor-sharp fingernails, she clings to the neckline of his shirt like a spider monkey, pulling it down with a subdued whimper and revealing one of his tattoos.

“Eddie? What-” You’re stunned. Shell-shocked from the sudden onslaught of sensation and attention, closing the space between you and the metalhead.

“How’s this for a grand gesture?” Spinning on his heel, Dustin rushes over to present a frosting-covered monstrosity on the bar. The icing is baby pink, with large globs that could be letters on top, with a handful of mismatched candles shoved into the floury concoction.

“Ta-da!” The younger boy grins, fixing one of the especially lop-sided candles. “Sorry it’s nothing special, I didn’t have much time to work on it…”

“You- you threw me a birthday party?” You ask, wide-eyed to Eddie.

“Ah-” He raises a finger, readjusting the subdued baby in his arms. “A surprise birthday party. In case you missed the keyword over the little hellraiser's scene-stealing cry.”

That familiar feeling returns. Overwhelmed by love and eyes solely on you. A small pile of presents sits on one of the bar tables, along with a few cards. Far more modest than the endowment you received from the group months earlier. Smiling faces, slightly tentative as they attempt to interpret your expression. But that thumping in your chest is not from anxiety this time. It’s from an overflowing sense of gratitude.

A teary smile takes over your face, rushing to embrace Eddie and Audrey in a tight bear hug. The baby nestled between you burbles and squirms, and you raise your lips to the shell of Eddie’s ear to whisper a heartfelt “thank-you”.

The party is in full swing. Of the faces huddled in groups around the intimate venue, you initially only recognise half of them. Mike, Lucas and Will order root beer from the bar under Eddie’s strict supervision, not wanting any wasted minors on his track record. Dustin and Erica are engaged in a heated conversation with a few older boys, each of them wearing shirts printed with the name Corroded Coffin. You’d only crossed paths with them a handful of times at campaign nights, but they shared Eddie’s welcoming nature, trying to involve you in their conversation about elves or something. Nancy and Robin were trying to liven up the dance floor, which mostly involved Nancy swaying to the beat and Robin putting on a full-scale musical number around her. With Audrey not in the arms of any of her allocated babysitter’s arms, there was only one place left to search. Jonathan was taking a picture of the group in the adjacent booth, El and Max grinning either side of an unfamiliar face. His long, dark hair proved most entertaining for the infant on his lap, a glazed-over expression dancing in his red-rimmed eyes.

“Woah, woah! That’s not for playing with, little dudette. Try this instead, I know it keeps me entertained.” From his Hawaiian shirt pocket, he pulls out a small set of keys, passing them to Audrey’s greedy fingers. She squeals, flinging the keys up and down in delight.

“God, she’s so cute.” El gushes, smoothing her pint-sized overalls over her legs.

“I know, right. She looks so much like Steve, it’s insane.” Max affirms. “Alright, Argyle. Quit hogging her.”

The redhead scoops her hands around Audrey’s waist, bringing her up to eye level with a cooing expression.

“You know they’re born without kneecaps? How gnarly is that?” Argyle states, turning to El with complete sincerity.

“No way that’s true.” Max shoots the older boy a signature dead-pan look, readjusting Audrey in her arms, who is now getting a good amount of drool on the keychain.

“Swear on my life! I read it somewhere, they’re born without propellers.”

“You mean patellas?” El corrects.

“Yeah, that’s the one! Or maybe it’s dogs I’m thinking of…”

It’s beautiful, watching over your own party as a voyeur. An event that has brought together all of the closest people in your life, the common thread being you. It makes you sick with love.

“How’re you enjoying the event, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice reaches you before he does, a glass of tan-colored liquid in hand.

“It’s perfect, really.” You reply with a grin. “All that’s missing are the Jell-o shots.”

“Gonna treat us to another Flashdance number?” Cheeks flushing over his statement, you stammer a response.

“How- how did you…”

“Don’t think I’d forget a spectacle like that.” He winks, a devilish grin spread across his lips. “Livened up that night’s dealings, that’s for sure.”

It’s strange, remembering a time before this. A time when Eddie was just a face in the crowd, Steve the undisputed King of Hawkins, and you with no clue what the coming years held in store. It feels like a lifetime ago, and simultaneously feels like an eternity you’ve spent with this eclectic family by your side.

“Getting on the beers tonight, Munson?” You tap a nail against the edge of his glass teasingly.

“Nah, confiscated Henderson’s root beer for my own selfish purposes.”

“You’re not gonna have a celebratory drink with me tonight?” Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t think so, sweetheart. Sounds a bit cliche, but I feel weird drinking around Squid. Just don’t want to be the kind of guy who does that around a baby, makes me feel like my dad or something.”

You swear your heart swells to three times its normal size. He might be the most considerate man you’ve ever met.

“Besides…” Eddie continues, pointing to the Hellfire boys. “... don’t want to be a mess on stage for the grand finale of the night.”

You gasp, mock excitement written all over your expression. “Strippers?!”

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Maybe later, if you ask nicely.”

He did it.

Eddie pulled it off. From the house-shaking rendition of Happy Birthday, to the (in his humble opinion) absolutely killer set courtesy of Corroded Coffin, to shuttling the younger kids home before the bar opened to the public. He fucking did it. He did good.

The dingy bar is now filled with the usual patrons, the bouncers not bothering to check the ID’s of the occupants inside who could pass for being over 21. Last he saw you, you were dancing arm in arm with Robin and Nancy, screaming Everybody Wants to Rule The World at the top of your lungs. He’d never seen you so free, so vibrant. Moving like no one was watching, twirling and laughing and holding your friends. Just as you deserved to be. A twenty-year-old for one night, before another 364 days devoted to being a mom.

The cool breeze is welcoming, soothing his warm skin under the clear night sky. Stars swimming in the endless expanse of night, delicate kisses of light kissing the pitch-black veil. He can breathe. It used to be suffocating, looking up at the infinite nothing. It would clog Eddie’s throat, choking him in bleak nothingness. Wrap him in a coat of terror, a black mirror designed to play back every fateful mistake of his miserable life. Now, it welcomes him. And he isn’t afraid to embrace it. Baby steps, learning to love the dark parts of his being.

In his arms, he rocks Squid back and forth gently. She’s long since dozed off, the burden of being the life of the party clearly hung too heavy on her tiny shoulders. On her ears sit the smallest fluffy earmuffs, an investment courtesy of Dustin just for tonight. She was the best little groupie he could have asked for. At one point, Robin brought her onstage and placed her feet on the ground, bopping her up and down to the music. The crowd roared, and she giggled and squealed like she was the headliner act. Might have shown the band up, honestly. Eddie didn’t mind.

He’s getting better at stealing moments with her. Giving into his need to dote on her unabashedly. He could stare at her for a lifetime, and that wouldn’t be enough. He needs to imprint in his mind the way her eyelids flutter when she sleeps, commit to memory the O-shape of her mouth when she lets out a sleepy yawn. He wants to record her laugh, keep it forever. He wants every waking second to be dedicated to her.

“Have a good night, Squid?” He mumbles, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. “Not bad for your first party, eh? Just you wait until your birthday. All of this will look like child’s play.”

Squid wriggles restlessly, burrowing into Eddie’s chest. Against his sternum, he can feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath, the tiny grunts of sleep deep in her lungs. It makes him grin like a mad-man.

“Y’know, I’m gonna let you in on a secret.” He readjusts her carefully in his arms, hushing his tone slightly. “I think- I think you and your mom are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

His words hang heavy in the still air, the empty alleyway the only recipient to his confession.

“Can you believe I was scared of you? Of these tiny hands-” He tickles her palm with his pointer finger, the baby clasping around it instinctually with unbridled strength. “- and these little feet. God, I’m pretty stupid, aren’t I? You can tell me, I won’t be offended. But, I’ll tell you something, just between you and me. There are much scarier things out there. And I’m not talking about monsters or alternate dimensions, although I do promise to protect you from that, cross my heart.” He raises his free hand to his heart, as if the sleeping infant would know any different.

“In this big, bad world, I think the scariest thing is to be alone. And I’m gonna make sure you never feel that way, if I can help it.”

Eddie is rambling, word vomit spilling past his lips faster than he can contain it. No scapegoat of weed or alcohol to blame his honesty on. He gently rocks Squid back and forth, the motion soothing both of them.

“Y’know, I know you’re not mine. But-” Teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, fingers pulling down her overalls. “- I dunno, it kinda feels like you’re mine in my heart.”

With a deep exhale, Eddie allows his honesty to wash over him in all its brutal glory. Knee-buckingly raw, and he leans into it, for once. Allows the love to pump through his veins with every beat of his cynical heart, waking up parts of him he thought were gone for good. But the moment of solitude doesn’t last long before Robin comes barreling out of the back door, almost crashing into the nearby trash cans.

“Shit, sorry. Did I wake her?” She apologizes, sloshing her half-finished gin and tonic onto the pavement.

“Nah, you’re in luck. Squid’s out like a light.” He pulls out another milk crate, beckoning the tipsy liability over. “Having fun in there?”

“Yeah, yeah- I am.” It’s a half thought, words dancing on the tip of her tongue not ready to be spoken yet. “The kids get home alright?”

“Eventually, had to drag most of them out by the end. Henderson wanted to hide in the bathroom and then ‘blend in with the older crowd’.”

“Wonder where he learnt that one from.” Robin smiles, nudging the metalhead.

“Hey, don’t look at me. Wasn’t my doing, for once…”

“Mmm…” She replies, taking a swig of her mixed spirit. Staring down at the lime slice, she swishes the glass around as if deep in thought. Glazed eyes laced with melancholy, radiating off her being.

“Something on your mind?” Eddie asks, angling his body more in her direction.

Robin’s mouth screws up as if she’s tasted something bitter, unable to bring her gaze to meet the man before her. But he doesn’t need to look her in the eyes to see the tears swelling on her waterline, quivering with her next sentence.

“We have to tell her…” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, suppressed anxiety trickling in with every syllable.

Eddie feels his blood run cold, the familiar pang of dread hanging low in his stomach. He shakes his head defiantly.

“Not tonight, Rob. Please…” The plea is firm, fraying at the edges. Not ready to face the inevitable.

“No, no. Not tonight, but it needs to be soon.”

“Can we please not do this right now?” Eddie doesn’t mean to be so forceful with his words, but fear is a powerful thing. It poisons his blood, pushed further through his system with every erratic beat of his heart.

Robin’s eyes continue to well up with stinging tears, her grip on the glass tightening. “The guilt is eating me alive, Eddie. I just… I don’t know how to do it.”

Eddie sighs, desperate to keep what little control he possesses.

“We need to do it the right way, got it? You, me, Henderson and her. We can all sit down and…” Robin runs her hand through her hair with exasperation at Eddie’s suggestion. Even the gentlest of options sounds like a monumental task. “Just give it a bit more time…”

“There is no more time!” She retorts, her volume loud enough for her to quickly glance down at the sleeping baby to make sure she didn’t wake her.

Eddie stands up, readjusting Squid in his arms. He’s doing his best to stay calm, and not let the inevitable spiral begin, a fruitless battle. “I’m not doing this right now, okay?”

The liquid courage is working wonders on Robin right now, standing up to face the metalhead eye-to-eye. “Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way, Eddie. You know as well as I do that she has a right to know.”

Eddie’s mouth is open and ready to voice another stern reply, when it’s interrupted by a meek voice behind him. The soft tone does little to soothe the ache growing in his abdomen, not daring to look over his shoulder at the source.

“I have a right to know what?”

Haze.

Disorder.

Stumbling your way through the overbearing smog flooding your consciousness. Gripping to the worn sofa in your living room like it’s a buoy, the only thing grounding you in painful reality.

It’s fragmented, the onslaught of new information cluttering your mind, unable to be sifted through logically.

Owens.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you’ve lost all faith in your legs to keep you upright. Sea legs giving out beneath you, collapsing under the weight of a burdened mind. You quickly put Audrey in her bassinet the second you arrived home, stepping back from her small body like she was made of fire. Delicate, precious, amidst the crumbling ruins of life.

Found.

No.

No, you need someone to cling onto. Polyester beneath your fingernails can never compare to flesh and blood, pumping with life and hope and comfort. Oh god. Craving arms, muscle and sinew engulfing your body, soothing and shushing like you’ve done with your baby countless times. Desperate for the luxury of kindness.

No one to dote.

No one to care.

No one to witness the mortifying pain of existence.

No one to observe the torment they cursed you with in the first place.

Steve.

Crawling up your throat like bile, burning your esophagus as hot lava. You’d welcome the respite of vomit, the substance of it, the satisfaction of exorcism. But no, the painful tar claws its way through your tract, bringing biting tears to your eyes. Hell manifesting in your being. Truth collapsing with a heavy hearted I’m so sorry, bouncing off the walls of the narrow alleyway while you retreated. Words spilling out helplessly from your loose tongue, rage of betrayal driving every consonant and syllable. To never see you again, let alone speak to you.

The loss of everyone, everyone. Robin, Dustin, Nancy, fuck- Eddie. They all knew. They coaxed you through the loss, never allowing for hope to breed. Lies built on mountains of lies, a shamble foundation of friendship. Arms that held your daughter with gentleness and altruism, seemingly all fabricated. Tainting her with every touch, every smile, tongues bleeding as they bit back the truth. Too numb to cry, to even indulge in the agony of feeling.

Beginnings are special, because most of them are fake. Artificial and man-made, entirely composed of brain chemistry and justifications. The person you become after your first glass of wine was already there, fretting below the surface of your facade, chipping away at the mask you present to the world. They never left.

You are at the end of beginning.

#dumbslxtclub #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things fic #dad!eddie #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #singlemom!reader

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tynearshot · 3 months

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Sai and Sebastian’s Past Relationships Part 2

In this we’ll focus on Sai’s pass relationships. It’s a lil long sorry haha!

TW: Toxic Relationship practices,Sex.

Sai:

Age 14

Sai’s first love was truly sweet. A crush turned young love. A girl from Science class, Tianna. She and Sai were inseparable in the beginning and they loved it. They giggled and loved that they could get away with “two femmes that are close? They’re just best friends.”

However, it was around this time that Sai started exploring their gender. Puberty reared its ugly head, and Sai was tired of the attention they got. “Geez men suck, I get boobs this year and suddenly they drooling like dogs.” Tianna giggled and agreed.

As Sai began dressing more and more masculine and androgynous, Sai’s first girlfriend started to distance themselves. I don’t believe it was outright malice. Hell both Sai and Tianna were new two how gender expression worked. In the end, they didn’t even have an official break up.

They met up less, and began running in different cliques, their adolescent love fizzled out. But Sai’s exploration of their queerness only grew.

Age 16

Sai was… a player let’s be real. Solid in their identity as a stud, they loved love. Spoiling their girlfriends, cuddling their boyfriends, dates galore, Sai had a lot of hot and quick 2 week to one month relationships. Until they met Sharon, or Shay.

Shay was more than a new cutie. She… actually had shit to talk about. In fact, Shay was the first friend that she told about being homeless as a kid. They grew closer and dated for a year and a half. They both loved plants and animals. So much that they both dreamed about leaving ZuZu, becoming traveling field biologists.

But, those stayed dreams. Senior year, Shay had to move. Her dad was in the military and had to be stationed halfway across the country. It was, tragically, no simpler than that. They wrote each other for a while, Sai loved writing letters and receiving them from Shay. But, unremarkably, the letters dwindled to nothing.

Sai was more devastated than they’d admit. But things just returned to normal, Sai the sociable stud. Except, Sai held on to their love of plants and animals that was sparked by Shay. Hell, Shay was the first person that sparked an intense vision of the future. They then started college and Studied advanced Botany with a minor in Zoology.

Age 20

Sai meets the first person they would truly say they were in love with. Her name was Amara. The two met at a college house party. Sai being their usual flirty self and Amara drinking it all in. The sensual tension emanating off of the pair was palpable. Of course the two hooked up. And in about a month they were an official couple.

Sai was attracted to Amara’s beauty, but captured by Amara’s passion. The two had similar passions and similar impulse control. Moved by their whims, the two had so much fun together. So many dreams together. But passion is a two sided coin.

Sai is a charming person, everyone’s big sibling. Amara saw that, and it led to her greatest paranoia. Sai often spent a lot of time tending to community (running a community fridge and garden, volunteering at donation centers, vandalizing elected officials property). That became the center of Amara’s Anxiety. “You don’t want to spend time with me anymore, you’re cheating on me.” These were the start of several arguments. That and accusations of overtly flirting, even accusing Sai of a secret relationship with Siobhan (Sai’s best friend, basically a sibling).

Sai didn’t understand. And wanted to do what they could to ease Amara’s worries. Sai wanted to fix that, even if they didn’t understand why. They loved Amara and thought they’d show them by moving in together. Good intentions, classic mistake.

Things were good for a while. They even talked about the future again. Sai felt safe dreaming again. They saw it, maybe somewhere with space, a big garden, maybe even a seed shop, children? It felt like a car crash when Amara’s paranoia not only returned, but intensified. Sai lives to nurture, but you can’t get blood from a stone. You can’t put out a fire with a cup of water. Sai was spent, and slowly realized that they were the only one working to ease Amara’s rage.

At a certain point, Sai did bury themselves in their work, to avoid the pain of Amara’s distrust. Just a little time to themselves, to think. “IT’S TRUE. YOU’RE AVOIDING ME! You… you don’t love me anymore Sai.” Amara shouts… again. And instead of a tearful refute of Amara’s venom… Sai stayed silent. It was only then that Amara realize they fulfilled their own prophecy.

After two passionate years, the flame was extinguished. Sai moved out. On top of that, Grandpa’s health was declining, the Community fridge and garden had been shut down by the new Mayor, and they dropped out of college. It hurt but, Sai knew they at least deserved something better. They don’t need the approval of a partner, or a degree, or whatever to get to a future they want.

They’d get it somehow.

Age 24 and up

The only thing on Sai’s mind is Peachtree farm. Putting all their foraging and plant knowledge to use. They don’t expect any sparks of romance in a town where everyone knows each other. Besides they got toys for that! Interesting then that the wistful loner is interest in the ball of passion and chaos that is Sai.

—

I know a long one. Thanks again for reading!

#stardew valley #stardew fanart #stardew #oc art #stardew farmer #farmer sai #romance #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons

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dandelion-wings · 2 months

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On thing about Mondstadt’s government that bothers me is that everybody boils it down to just the Knights on one side, and the Church on the other. Which, sure, they’re what we know the most about…

But it completely ignores the ‘Community Representative’. Considering their signature is one of three needed to (legally) make use of the Holy Lyre, alongside the Grandmaster and the Seneschal, they must be pretty damn important. So assuming they have equal power to those positions, which are at the head of the Knights and the Church respectively, what actually is that power? Presumably it’s an elected position (the title is that of a ‘representative’, plus I would be severely disappointed if there wasn’t even a hint of democracy in the Nation of Freedom), but is there a structure under it similar to the Knights and Church? Is there a completely separate civilian, secular government that for some reason just barely comes up? If it is elected, how is that handled? If both Grandmaster Varka and the Seneschal are on expedition, does that mean they hold more authority than Acting Grandmaster Jean and whoever is Acting Seneschal (assuming an acting-title’s authority, though still above everything else below the proper-title, is still considered secondary to that of said proper-title)? But if so, why hasn’t it come up? Or is it just some guy elected to act as a more expedient alternative to something like a full referendum?

God, I have an education in history and political science that is just begging for some damn answers!

I mean, I don't have an education in those things and am not real good at working those things out myself, so I don't know that I can provide you too much useful commentary here. XD;; But while I'd love if Mondstadt did have some democracy, I... am pretty convinced that it's a theocracy, actually. The Knights and the Church (which tbh seems to exist under the overall umbrella of the Ordo, given that Jean says in her voiceline about Barbara that "the order also manages the Church") fulfill pretty much all the governmental functions we actually see happening at all, including the whole thing in Jean's quest where Charles expects tax forms from her.

I'll admit I also lean that way because I read into Mondstadt as a whole (its history but also our introduction to it, where Amber initially nabs us for unauthorized entry and then there's a whole early section about gliding regulations) a theme of humans repeatedly being given freedom, and gradually rebuilding restrictions upon themselves. Which I don't think is entirely a bad thing, in that I do think communities generally function better with organization and administration and such, but, like, Mondstadt has gone all the way into tyranny before and could again. Mondstadt building itself an increasingly restrictive theocracy feeds into the theme I like drawing from it, so of course that's the reading I tend towards! But, still, that's where I'm at about it.

(I draw a lot of my read of this national theme from the line, "Mondstadt is the City of Freedom, but unchecked freedom without any kind of rules only invites chaos and anxiety," in Jean's character details, and I haven't seen anyone else talk about it, ever, so it's entirely possible this is actually character brainrot I'm projecting onto the city as a whole. I'm fine with that.)

Presumably there is a further government apparatus, but I tend to believe it's probably under the higher authority of the Ordo. Maybe with checks and balances, maybe not (exactly how I arrange the setup for fic where it's needed is specific to individual fic, because the openness of canon leaves the kind of room that makes it easiest to go with what works for the plot). "Community Representative" on its own is very vague; looking at the line where it actually appears, it's talking about the Holy Lyre in the context of the Ludi Harpastrum, so it could even be a role specific to the yearly organization of that particular festival! That said, it does sound a bit more like it's a regular thing, and given my presumption of theocracy above, I think this:

Or is it just some guy elected to act as a more expedient alternative to something like a full referendum?

honestly is the most likely possibility. It would make sense given Mondstadt's ethos and history--you have a representative of the community to sign off on certain decisions (hopefully elected, as you said, but who knows exactly how it happens), like that one about the Lyre, to show that the people agree. Possibly it's a triangle with the Grand Master at the top and the Seneschal (given the above "manages the Church" line) and Community Representative as equals who have input but not ultimate power on the next level down, possibly they both exist largely to rubberstamp the Grand Master and Seneshal's decisions, possibly it's an area-of-authority divide. Regardless of the exact divisions, Jean does seem to have some fairly unilateral powers in the areas of domestic defense and peacekeeping, but that's... something you do want the head of your military-and-police order to have, generally, so who knows how broad her powers actually are to act without the Seneschal and Representative's approval in other areas. The game is, as always, frustratingly uninformative.

Anyway, tl;dr: my personal reading of Mondstadt tends to render the Community Representative as relatively unimportant, despite the equal billing in that quest, because over and over again in quests and lore and voicelines we don't see anything but "the Ordo handles things," and Mondstadt honestly makes most sense to me as a theocratic city-state. I think they're more likely a representative "voice" in the government than a significant power, and I don't think they represent any significant "third branch" other than possibly, given Mondstadt's history, a symbolic reminder that its people have toppled tyrants before and can do so again.

#asked and answered #knight meta #(i tbh am not great at worldbuilding government stuff which does not help this answer #i am fairly confident about building out internal stuff for the knights specifically #because i am familiar with law-enforcement structure and procedure from the inside and tend to just transfer it #but we get so little lore that full-system speculation is putting together pieces into shapes i don't have the same personal experience for #so sorry if this answer is disappointing anon. it's not my area of experience)#the shape of teyvat

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beardedmrbean · 5 months

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WASHINGTON (AP) �� Among images of the bombed out homes and ravaged streets of Gaza, some stood out for the utter horror: Bloodied, abandoned infants.

Viewed millions of times online since the war began, these images are deepfakes created using artificial intelligence. If you look closely you can see clues: fingers that curl oddly, or eyes that shimmer with an unnatural light — all telltale signs of digital deception.

The outrage the images were created to provoke, however, is all too real.

Pictures from the Israel-Hamas war have vividly and painfully illustrated AI's potential as a propaganda tool, used to create lifelike images of carnage. Since the war began last month, digitally altered ones spread on social media have been used to make false claims about responsibility for casualties or to deceive people about atrocities that never happened. While most of the false claims circulating online about the war didn’t require AI to create and came from more conventional sources, technological advances are coming with increasing frequency and little oversight. That’s made the potential of AI to become another form of weapon starkly apparent, and offered a glimpse of what’s to come during future conflicts, elections and other big events.

“It’s going to get worse — a lot worse — before it gets better,” said Jean-Claude Goldenstein, CEO of CREOpoint, a tech company based in San Francisco and Paris that uses AI to assess the validity of online claims. The company has created a database of the most viral deepfakes to emerge from Gaza. “Pictures, video and audio: with generative AI it’s going to be an escalation you haven’t seen.”

In some cases, photos from other conflicts or disasters have been repurposed and passed off as new. In others, generative AI programs have been used to create images from scratch, such as one of a baby crying amidst bombing wreckage that went viral in the conflict’s earliest days.

Other examples of AI-generated images include videos showing supposed Israeli missile strikes, or tanks rolling through ruined neighborhoods, or families combing through rubble for survivors.

In many cases, the fakes seem designed to evoke a strong emotional reaction by including the bodies of babies, children or families. In the bloody first days of the war, supporters of both Israel and Hamas alleged the other side had victimized children and babies; deepfake images of wailing infants offered photographic ‘evidence’ that was quickly held up as proof.

The propagandists who create such images are skilled at targeting people's deepest impulses and anxieties, said Imran Ahmed, CEO of the Center for Countering Digital Hate, a nonprofit that has tracked disinformation from the war. Whether it's a deepfake baby, or an actual image of an infant from another conflict, the emotional impact on the viewer is the same.

The more abhorrent the image, the more likely a user is to remember it and to share it, unwittingly spreading the disinformation further.

“People are being told right now: Look at this picture of a baby,” Ahmed said. “The disinformation is designed to make you engage with it.”

#nunyas news

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hero-israel · 3 months

Note

I wanted to apologize again for the rant. I barely remember writing it (which is kinda terrifying). I saw your suggestion to breathe and I’m trying lol. But I saw that it angered a number of people in the notes and I wanted to reiterate:

-I try and fight by finding information that combats the vast array of misinformation and spread the correct information. I’m an anxiety ridden non confrontational person and people online tend to be five times more eloquent than me. So basically all I can do is “spread the word.” The more people see the whole picture, the better, right? With my own mental struggles, I’ll see some horrid information, try and find where it came from and how it spread. When it’s everywhere ( on so many news outlets) and I don’t know what to do, I freak out. The awful Congo rumors are an example. Given the government has pulled back on those words, the best thing to call them at this point are rumors, right?

It’s surreal where I am. I am well aware I’m privileged. I count my blessings, and I worry over those that don’t. (Every story and testimony I hear about the female hostages in particular make me feel helpless and sick to my stomach. So much talk about the crisis women in Gaza are facing, but nothing about the conditions of female hostages. You have to actively search to find out, and it’s usually independent sources spreading the word of what released hostages have said).

And all of the conflict where I am is online. In the outside world, off of the local college campus, (which I think I said. I apologize again, I think I wrote the previous message in a panic,) people are only interested in their coffee. I count myself lucky that I have yet to encounter real life anti semitic situations when I know they’re happening a few hours away from me in larger cities. I am in no financial/economical position to volunteer in Israel to help relocate and aid the displaced in the south, as it came to my attention that there are international volunteers going over. I found out about Stand Together, which I tend to look into. I heard it’s a good organization. And then there’s….Tzedaka? Idk. I just know there are some good Israeli based organizations that give aid, but I can’t remember their names. I’d recognize them if someone said them.

I’m astonished I wrote that much? So I’m going to have to step back. I at least know domestically, I can help by getting the right people elected and combat misinformation. Biden will at least give everyone the freedom to fight with words. Trump would take away freedom of the press and chop free speech in half first chance he gets. I wonder about Nikki Haley, but I’m skeptical she will win the primary.

I don’t understand a lot of what’s going on because I feel like I keep wandering through muck. but I try. When I don’t get what I’ll looking for through news sources, I ask here. It’s easy to tell when news is biased these days and what’s telling the whole story these days. I think I struggle to comprehend how small Israel is sometimes and the idea of everyone being out on the field. (And I understand it’s a privilege to struggle to comprehend such a thing, if that makes sense). I keep thinking there must be people at their homes to fight the government when the government is being stupid, like the protests that happened during COVID, while at the same time I read today about a 95 year old man volunteering to work in the IDF. I try and figure out what’s going on with the regular every day people in Israel, knowing there’s active IDF and volunteers helping the displaced and any Gazans fleeing (though I think the border at the moment is closed, I could be wrong). Is it like Ukraine where quite literally anyone that is physically and economically able to do something is doing something to help?

I read yesterday that a vote may be held? That makes me hopeful. But it’s rare to vote a prime minister or president out of office in the middle of war. And it came to my attention that Israeli politics are as divided as American politics are. I knew they were divided before the war began, as I knew about the two massive protests that happened. I didn’t realize /how/ divided they were until recently. It seems are just more lines drawn in the sand in Israel than there are in the States, and there are more factions and coalitions in Israel. And while there’s not as many lines drawn in the States, the existing lines run deep, and they’re getting vicious. I don’t know how bad the lines drawn are in Israel.

So uh yeah, to everyone, I’m sorry for any misunderstandings. I ramble more than I am eloquent. I’ll take my anxiety ridden butt offline for the moment. I’ll come back better. And thank you specifically for reminding me to breathe

The responses from Israelis on the original post are worth reading.

I didn't have the time or space to address every point of the first post and I still don't for this one, but I can say this much:

When someone is struggling with anxiety, it can leave them prone to doom-spirals even during "normal" levels of bad news. Right now for every Jew except the ~240,000 remaining Holocaust survivors, the news is worse than we've ever seen in our lives. We are all feeling overwhelmed and unsure how to help, how to chip in. If it has indeed reached the level of panic - which you described as severe enough to leave you with "missing" time / actions - it's okay to really take some time off from this, to get help. It's okay to set a literal timer on your phone for how much you engage - to give yourself one hour every other day, and stick to it. No one is helped by a person getting so deep into crisis that they can't function.

You mentioned the programs where people can travel to Israel to help keep farms operational and stuff care packages for displaced families - perhaps you yourself aren't in a position to do that, but could you instead try to encourage other people to do it? Can a local synagogue recommend a phone-banking effort?

The Congo stuff is not a "rumor" - it is "jerking off." Someone idly speculating / wishing to do something which they have neither power nor mechanism to do. It is significantly less real than the time Trump talked about buying Greenland; put it in that context.

Israel is a tiny country, with genocidal fascist militias parked on its northern and southern borders; the reason they can't just pull out of the West Bank is because if not properly managed it would immediately turn into another Gaza but bigger and on top of a mountain range with all of Israel's biggest cities at the bottom. The country is now forced to mobilize for self-defense in a way most Americans can't imagine; if my math is correct, about 4% of the entire population is on active duty within Gaza now, and they all left their families and day jobs behind.

Your prior post asked "can't sensible Israelis stop Netanyahu?" - they've been trying very hard and the outside world has no clue. There were massive protests and riots near-nonstop for a year, including a general strike that shut down the entire country - shut down the hotels and the airport! - that actually managed to get the judicial overhaul postponed. When it did come back, it was in a weaker form (still awful), and then the courts were able to erase the very worst of it and postpone other parts. As an American who has done my fair share of door-to-door canvassing, protesting, and """awareness-raising""", I wish American progressives and centrists had been that successful when it came to, say, the Iraq War, or gun control, or protecting Roe...

There is no imminent vote on the current government (there are municipal elections coming very soon, but those are less important). The next national election - the kind you're thinking of - is October 2026. Which is awful to think about and I sincerely hope the government collapses long before then, as Israeli governments have tended to do for the last 5-6 years.

In general, the most reliable news sources are TOI and Ynetnews, and I listed some good resources here.

I hope this was somewhat helpful and that you are able to reach a better place while still finding a way to defend our community.

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lionheartedmusings · 10 months

Text

oh boy, listen, the qsmp election should just be renamed the broken telephone event bc there's no way people are misrepresenting everyone's platform and to be fair character (and, a note, literally all of this is also about characters AT NO POINT DO I MEAN CCS i just get lazy typing the q! tbh) so much. maybe it's a language barrier thing, maybe it's difficulty in being the devil's advocate but it's wild to see in real time.

i watch bad religiously, try to watch as much of forever's pov i can live and what i can't i watch in vods, cellbit i catch when i can, baghera i do my best but french and me don't mix well in my head. this is coming from someone who is a native portuguese speaker and perfectly bilingual when it comes to english. i say this to illustrate that especially between the english and portuguese speakers, i'm not getting lost in buggy translations or difficulty undestanding.

do i disagree with insaneduo? yep, but that's a personal opinion. i also entirely understand not only their stance during the debates (do i enjoy it? not really, the tone — which is not aggressive, it's assertive — is anxiety inducing TO ME PERSONALLY and so i struggle) but also their platform. they're doing the best with what they've been given, and keeping your enemies close is the only thing in their opinion has truly shown any sort of result. using the federation's resources is an opportunity they can't pass up! they have great ideas, good implementation plans, and cellbit isn't even running so really, forever is doing the most as he should. i understand why he doesn't understand the anarchy route in this situation. yes, their platform has been misrepresented, but that's because ultimately what they showcase in public forums aka debates for all to see does come across as very assertive (which is what debates are for, asserting your stance) and at times a bit tunnel vision imo. listening to them properly out of the debates would do a lot to stop whatever circus has been going on.

now, i have seen an insane amount of people almost mischaracterising bad and baghera as a response to the misinterpretation of insaneduo, and that's not fair either. bad and baghera have spoken at length about their issues with presidency, how they don't want to centralise power, how they don't trust the federation and they definitely don't trust anyone who will be actively pulled around by them. are they all puppets? yes, but do you want to give power to someone who willingly or not is giving up their own strings? it's normal that they're reluctant or just blatantly refusing of that idea. they don't think insaneduo are power hungry dictators, they've in fact spoken multiple times talking about how they think BOTH cellbit and forever would be good presidents (bad specifically mentioned it even last night) but that the concern isn't them, it's the federation.

bad making a joke about helping foolish assassinate anyone other than baghera and gegg is… a joke. it's literally a silly goofy joke based on "my coalition vs everyone else" and the idea of political assassination. there's quite literally no need, and frankly imo a disservice to the relationship that bad and forever have to mischaracterise that. if i remember correctly, wasn't forever the one talking about how they should be killing each other bc it'd be fun? i might be wrong there, but i vividly remember that.

my point being, this election is ultimately an exercise in futility bc they're all fucked regardless, this isn't "giving someone power" it's the federation sticking a pacifier in their mouth for soothing and telling them they'll sleep better. it'll end terribly either way, and no character is safe. it's a ridiculous plotline but a wildly interesting one, BECAUSE it's doomed to fail and yet everyone's doing the song and dance.

enjoy the content. laugh. analyse the character dynamics, motivations and plans. don't go out of your way to mischaracterise and demonise any character bc that not only goes against everything the qsmp stands for, but it also sucks the fun out of it for you and everyone else. no one is after anyone, no one is isolating anyone to be mean to them, these people are friends playing characters who are friends. have fun! my god!

#qsmp #q!forever #q!cellbit #q!baghera #q!badboyhalo #if any of this is wrong or misinformed pls let me know #i try to keep up with everyone as much as i can but alas i am but one person and there's only 24h in a day #so i am more than willing to be wrong #i just think it's wild what's been happening #and not in a good way tbh #i also don't think it's polite of me to go around in posts that are blatantly untrue going “um actually that's not correct” BUT BY GOD #THE URGE TO SCREAM “THAT DIDN'T HAPPEN” TO LITERALLY EVERYONE IS ALL CONSUMING

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kingmaker-a · 4 months

Text

Lost & Found | Kim Jungeun

Non-Idol AU - Set on New Years Eve

Warnings/Tags: Minor injury (Cut on the finger/s), blood, light alcohol consumption. Reader wrestles with themselves quite a bit.

It's New Years Eve and Kim Jungeun (the girl who you've called an asshole) just posted an instagram story wearing your necklace. Great.

Wordcount: 3.7k

Genre: Fluff, Angst (Self doubt and anxiety).

A/N: Inspired partially by a conversation in Paladins group chat, with @sanccharine and @panda-writes-kpop. I'll be real, it wasn't supposed to turn out like this, but I don't hate it. Kinda miss the more delusional original idea (there wasn't an original idea, just vibes).

Anyway, belated happy new year, I hope the year treats you well and with the kindness you deserve.

Where do you even begin? There are no boundaries to the start of a story, they just happen, after all. Yet, there's always that voice that needs it to be perfect.

Keep it to simple facts.

Like most stories, there's a girl.

Kim Jungeun, her friends call her Lippie and you call her… nothing.

…Well, you’ve called her asshole.

That is certainly no way to greet a stranger.

But that’s skipping over too many details.

Rewind a little bit.

There's a girl, Kim Jungeun and your mind just frays-no that doesn't quite have enough bite-fractures into all the fragments of possibility, when it frankly shouldn't.

And, and-

It’s hard to articulate, which is something of a constant lately.

She was supposed to be a distraction, a cursory interest at best. At least while the girl you're actually interested in is studying abroad.

Not that you’ve actually talked to her either.

…You’re a mess.

Things just have a way of getting out of control in your head space.

It’s slow and tentative the way your hand brushes against your chest, ghosting over where a familiar pendant should be.

A cigarette would be fucking great.

But where were you?

Right, right.

Kim Jungeun, an ill begotten thorn in your side.

Salt ridden obsidian waves bounce and dance, sprinkled with the lustre of moonlight and the fairy dust of the stars.

Even if barely, it soothes you.

It’s been awhile since you were last here, eyes tracing over the waves.

The old dock at the port.

A safe space to unwind your mind, though perhaps it was a good thing to miss this place?

Kim Jungeun, friend of Heejin.

Who, according to her, you shared an elective for two weeks before you switched.

Blonde, talented and totally not your type, at all.

Not that you actually noticed her all that much, like ships passing in the night.

Always too focused on Heejin, the way her smile, her antics enamoured a feeling in your chest.

Dopamine and friendship, even if you thought it could've been more at the time.

Still, you can't help the way your brain traces over every brief gaze Jungeun had given over those long lost years.

She disappeared one fall, moved overseas because of family or something or another. According to Heejin she had a going away party, an unnoticed event that you somehow attended.

You remember it vaguely, almost like looking through a foggy glass. You arrived late as had become tradition, to avoid the awkward moments where Heejin would flutter off to socialise while you would nurse a drink awkwardly.

It was hard to miss the slight sad edge to Jungeun's smile when you had arrived, Heejin nearly passed out on a sofa.

No thoughts or words came to your mind as you wrestled her arm over your shoulder, merely a soft wave as you departed.

Only now does the memory warp ever so slightly under the weight of your modern delusions, the need for there to be something unspoken between the two of you.

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth.

Hell, that might not have even happened at all.

It’s hard to truly say, not after the freight train that ran you over when she came back years later.

Something had changed about her after her time away, or at least that's what you would like to say.

But It’s all retrospective hindsight, pieces that you can only put together because you're looking for a way to explain why she ties your chest into knots whenever you look at her.

The problem with being a hopeless romantic is there has to be some sort of divine providence involved, some story that somehow ties it together…

To make it perfect, like It’s a movie.

But real life isn't like that.

Even if you want it so god damn desperately, the nascent need to love and be loved claws and etches at the sensitive flesh of your brain. Still, it only traces a carved pattern that lays at the core of your soul.

Much like any novel, it’s the hunger to be chosen, needed or objectified in the gaze of another.

It’s hard not to drown against it all, eyes sink against crashing, violent waves, you can practically taste the salt on your tongue.

You're a mess, a desperate craven for a single hopeful touch.

You can feel the way your mind drags against the murky seafloor of your own mental abyss.

Still, it's like the snap of a chain, the tug of a haunted ghost that caresses your skin.

A single notification.

A taunting admission.

An update to her Instagram story, the photo itself, a nonsensical blur as you latch on to the familiar metallic shimmer that dots her collar.

It takes everything to pull your eyes away, crashing waves are a soft comforting comfort. Still, your teeth graze your tongue as you contemplate how you feel.

Your phone trembles in your grasp, vibrates with an anxious bounce–Wait, it’s actually ringing, you almost choke on air when you accept the call.

You can practically taste the smile that lingers on unseen lips.

“Hey, asshole.”

Perhaps it’s the mere act of being caught off guard that culls your anxiety before it even has a chance.

Here you are, on the steps of a kingdom unknown. The bloom of orange hallowed light is the only tell tale sign you’re in the right place.

It’s warm you note, in the comforting sort of way, like homemade soup on a particularly sick day.

Your fingers knock against her door with a soft, delicate touch.

it’s hard not to indulge the nauseous thoughts in your brain, in the silent gaps of air. Like exposed skin in a sea of mosquitos.

Maybe the way her lips curve into the slightest smile is its own insect repellent.

Still, it’s only the briefest peak at what lies below the surface, as it fades into the poised detachment you had grown used to.

“So you came huh?” There’s a braggadocious air to her tone, that is almost surprising to your ears. It’s hard to ignore the smirk that swells at the edge of her lip, it’s vivacious and effervescent.

Words catch on the hem of your throat, twisting, coiling and snagging against the roll of her eyes.

There’s a playfulness to the way she bites her tongue, the denouement of victory. Still there’s something to be said about the almost child-like sparkle in her eyes.

What exactly? You haven’t decided, or perhaps you can’t explain it. It radiates a warm comfort in your chest.

And perhaps that is good enough.

You can’t help the awkwardness that clings to your bones, when she gestures for you to come inside, it weighs heavy like rotting iron.

There’s a flash of something else hidden under the contortion of confusion on her face.

“Did you need a formal invitation like a vampire or something?” it’s a sharp almost biting edge, you’ve never held a real conversation with her.

But you can tell it feels unnatural, forced even.

You can't help the curiosity that itches under your skin, burns across your eyes. It’s almost enough, a distraction from that which gnaws at your bones.

The creak of anxiety rattles through your bones, there is no easy way to jump head first into the abyss.

If it even is the right abyss.

Soft, svelte fingers brush against your own, coaxing you forward.

You fall, head first into her domain. It clicks in your head, how little you know about her.

All you have to pick apart is causal anecdotes from Heejin and the chic, almost detached persona she presents.

You know something else swims below the surface.

Just out of reach.

“Beer?”

Gross.

“Sure.”

The soft curve of a smile is a gentle reminder that she likes beer. Your eyes trace her living space as she disappears towards her kitchen.

It’s spacious, minimalist and functional, the only evidence of an inhabitant is the barely past season Christmas tree.

There's a joke about being eager for Christmas in January if she leaves it any longer.

You can't help the tiny smirk that dots your lips, earning you an arched eyebrow and a cold beer.

It’s snug and awkward against your grip, maybe it’s just a creative analogy for you.

Your hand struggles in vain, twisting against jagged metal teeth. They cut into your fingers with a spiked, hungry sharpness.

Crimson paint slowly boils to the surface, at least the cut wasn't clean unlike your stupidity.

Your hand clenches into a tight fist in an attempt to hide your mistake.

Thankfully she’s transfixed?

Enamoured by the tick of her clock or perhaps the weight of her own thoughts.

That's wishful thinking.

Still there's something equally enamouring in the way she prys the cap off her beer. There's a practised skill in the way she peels it off with her ring.

A symbol to her fondness.

Perhaps it is those small idiosyncrasies, fruit born from passion in life that makes your chest palpate.

Maybe it’s the way your eyes linger on her lips as she takes a swig.

Victory burns across her lips, blooming into a satisfied exhale. It’s the soft swell of a smile that almost makes you believe beer tastes good.

After all, how could she be wrong?

You clear your throat, offering your bottle.

There's a flash of recognition, exorcising any haunted whispers that dwell as she grasps the bottle.

Her lips squish, shrinking together as her cheeks puff ever so slightly. It’s odd the way she almost squirms under your gaze before she releases an exasperated sigh.

“My bad,” despite the almost shameful weight to her tone, her fingers are anything but. They glide and dance with familiar grace, commiting your jagged tooth assailant to the grave.

She's cute you realise, almost needlessly so.

It’s the tiny fragment of her embarrassment that plays at your heart like a guitar pick, you almost apologise.

Even if fault lies with neither of you.

Yet, there’s another flash that bounces across her eyes, burdened by worry and guilt as bottles clang onto her coffee table.

“Shit,” her grip brushes ever so softly against the tips of your fingers, it tingles with an electricity you’ve only dreamt of feeling.

Though, you didn't expect there to be trickling crimson rivulets.

Do you think it conducts since it has the same source?

She tugs at the corner of your shirt, pulling to her couch, a small little thing-barely a two seater on the best of days.

Maybe you're just making excuses?

You’re brought back to an earlier thought if only briefly, as she swipes through a coffee table drawer.

Functional and minimalist, what she keeps on or around her has purpose, even her ring.

Which begs the question about her-your neckl-

Sometimes life is the perfect conflux of coincidence meets happenstance, in those rare moments you will find the answers to some of your most burgeoning questions.

Or jokes in your case.

Because, it does in fact conduct. That's the only rational way to explain the way your brain surges, short circuiting when her tantalising lips soak crimson, pressed feverishly tight against your damaged flesh.

It’s intoxicating, dangerously so, the way your mind lingers as your jaw slackens. Your breath hitches, catches against a heated haze as her eyes latch on to yours.

You can barely pick out the slightest ping of worry as she searches through gaze, looking for any sign of discomfort as you feel pressure tighten against your wounded flesh.

You swear you feel a smile burn across your fingers before you blink.

Spongebob patterned plasters replace the soft embrace of her lips.

Though perhaps that's another delusion to the list…

Right?

Wrong, it’s spelt with the claret stain burned into the sleeve of her knit sweater, dotted with the glistening cerise fleck on the edge of her lip.

Yet, she looks at you expectantly, like nothing had transpired, as if there was only a momentary gap in conversation.

You’re a good samaritan you realise, after all that has to be the reason why your fingers tuck under her chin-god you need to ignore how you snap together like puzzle pieces-as your thumb brushes softly against her lip.

She practically preens against your touch, lips curving into a knowing smile.

She’s been caught red handed, your flesh against her fangs.

Your eyes linger against her lips, to consume her wholly and utterly to stain yourself in her colour.

Still, there's a coyishness as her head tilts to the side, eyelashes fluttering with chic elegance.

But is it right to take the plunge?

Is now the moment that makes up for every missed opportunity, every life not lived, every love unhad?

The answer is-

Your hand…

No, that’s the answer.

Retracts, slow and hesitant.

To indulge in this moment is to make every other lesser in Its wake, to tattoo it across your skin and into your heart.

Could you love so permanently when you change with the tide?

Her smile tightens, soft and friendly.

Perhaps that's all it ever was.

She pulls aways, grabbing her beer and… You follow suit, nursing it between your lips.

It tastes better than you thought, though anything is better than drowning in the awkward silence that slowly fills the room.

It’s odd to notice how truly quiet it is in the dead of night, it’s worse to hate such a monument to peace.

You try to find idle work tracing her living space, to find anything of note or interest.

But, you have no such luck as your eyes eventually settle on her clock.

11:50

Maybe that's why she always stares at it? What the fuck else are you supposed to look at?

After all, you can't bring yourself to even dare look her way.

She keeps everything for a reas-

“Why do you have my necklace?”

She scoffs, it’s sudden, violent and abrasive. You can hear the way her fingers tick away at her beer bottle before she takes a deep breath.

It’s practically thrown at her coffee table.

She turns to you, full body and all. Her eyebrows draw tight together like the wound string of a bow.

Whatever confidence she has dissipates slowly as her knees slowly tuck towards her chest.

If the air wasn't heavy with melancholic seriousness, you would've made a joke about her sitting like that one anime character.

Her features scrunch ever so slightly for the briefest of moments as she practically shrinks behind her knees.

“Are you sure you wanna know?”

The question is redundant isn’t it? You wouldn't have asked otherwise.

“Yeah.”

You swear you catch the briefest flicker of a temper tantrum bounce across her face before she sighs.

Part of you can't help but want to entertain the idea.

She probably screams like a pterodactyl.

It’s a weird sort of honour, to be in her presence as her chic edge is peeled away by the skin of your teeth.

It’s nice.

“Wel-” her eyebrows twitch latched on the hook of something else, a flash of annoyance blooms across her face. “Why'd you give it to her?”

Why did you give her your necklace? A matter of circumstance? Of love unabated?

Actually, “why does it matter?”

She seethes under her calculated exterior, you can taste the brimming smoke, choking and noxious as she rolls her eyes, her gaze shifting away from you.

The thin layer of silence does nothing to hide her muttering.

“Man, you really are an asshole.”

It’s the small hitch of a raised breath, the kind that blends against the slight exhale of receiving a meme.

You can't help the slight smile that twitches across your lips, the closest thing to an inside joke.

Her eyes return to you, poised like a sharpened dagger.

Cold indifference, a biting edge ready to strike, deadly and true.

You can practically feel the slice of her remark.

Except she falters, caught on the smile that blisters across her lips, soft and tentative.

You know it would clasp perfectly against your own.

Her nose scrunches ever so slightly, cheeks swelling on a held breath before she releases a sigh.

Her hand darts to yours, there's a shakiness you can't see, but feel as her touch trembles against yours.

“Do you like her?”

It’s like being dumped into the arctic, your mind collapses against the sobriety of it all.

Do you? Your chest sinks with a held weight, threatening to suffocate every last thought and breath.

“I don't know-”

Her head cocks to the side, eyes tracing your features with a delicate touch.

There's nothing romantic about the way she looks at you, just a soft, caring warmth. She hangs on to every microcosm of you as if each moment is its own answer.

Even as her hand trembles against yours, bouncing with an anxious quiver, there is no pressure.

No rush.

Just patience.

You’re lying, lying through your teeth, scared to be the one wolf amongst a world of sheep.

“I did-”

You’re a paradox in a world of certainty, always in a state of fluctuation.

“-maybe once upon a time.”

She offers a soft nod, grip tightening against yours, it trembles with every tick of her clock.

Her lips purse, bubbling with a tepid question.

“And you never made a move– told her even?”

Of course not-

You take a deep, almost shaky breath. It's cut across the jagged rocks of your own disdain.

She wouldn't understand you put the hopeless in hopeless romantic, too caught up in the whirlwind of novelty and what-ifs.

Not what could be.

“What's the point?” You can't help the way it comes out, sodden, soaked, dripping with resignation.

It’s the kind of thought that's better left unsaid, usually left unsaid.

She frowns, lips scrunching once again as she pouts and you realise there's something about her that makes you honest.

Well and truly.

Perhaps there is a kind of honesty that can only be learnt in the company of a stranger.

After all, when you're splitting hairs, how much do you actually know about Kim Jungeun?

Her eyebrow quirks forward, “because you liked her?”

There's a certain punchiness, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

Like the blue hue of the sky.

“Liked, being the keyword Lippie.”

You swear you catch the slightest hitch of her breath against the rough edge of her nickname, an attempt at annoyed levity.

Still, she offers you the slightest tilt of a smile, the smallest peak at perfect porcelain, it’s an almost indignant, so?

As if you had mentioned, sometimes the sky is a muddy grey because of the clouds.

Except perhaps it would be better if the analogy was swapp-

It slams like a fist to the gut, her soft smile.

“You know you think too much for someone who is criminally stupid.”

All you can offer is an incredulous huff as you double over (emotionally of course).

“Asshole.”

She rolls her eyes, her smile blooming with an annoying smugness.

Her hand retracts, finding purchase on her beer bottle.

A victory lap of hers.

“Love people while you do, when you can.” Her eyes go glassy, shining with a melancholic wistfulness before she shrugs.

She takes a sip of her beer, eyebrows knotting together with a sudden thought.

It’s soft the way her eyes trace you, hesitant as she places her beer back.

“Sometimes the act of loving someone, makes you love them more,” she clears her throat, eyes shifting under your continued gaze. “But, uh-”

She takes a deep breath, “live in the moment, not your head?”

You never know what could happen, perhaps something to do in the new year, a thought that hangs on your brain as your eyes linger on her clock.

11:59

Live in the moment.

“...So why do you have my necklace?”

She instantly shrinks, as if your words were a hammer in a game of whack-a-mole. Her eyebrows crease, her nose scrunches and her lips purse as she squirms under your gaze.

Throughout it all, she finds a sudden interest in her plain, boring floor.

Her cheeks swell ever so slightly, an embarrassed smile teases her lips under the sudden stress.

She’s probably surprised you remembered the question.

Or she forgot herself.

It’s cute, it really is. The way she forgets herself, the practised chic persona lays fractured, broken at the base of it all.

What you would give to be a Bluetoothed pair of idiots.

She tugs at her knit sweater, pulling it over head as you catch a muffled pterodactyl scream.

Maybe you're just projecting on the pterodactyl part.

She plucks at the fragments, tries to assemble some facsimile.

But it’s redundant, redundant when the slightest pigment of scarlet, rosy pink dusts her cheeks, redundant when eyes remain glued to the floor even as they shift your way.

Her words are small, tiny as if she were speaking gnomish.

“...It makes me feel happy, when I wear it.”

That answers everything and nothing at the same t-

She looks at you expectantly, a soft timid glassiness lingers in her eyes.

Her eyes snap to her clock, muffled fireworks echo through the night sky.

A frown lines her lips.

“Happy new ye-”

Her words are muffled, halted by the painterly brush of your lips. Her smile echoes across her lips and you can taste the smugness.

It’s eye rolling.

Her fingers tangle through your hair as she pulls you deeper into free fall and fall you both do.

You can't help the reluctance that echoes through your bones and across your lips as she pulls away.

A smirk peeks through her supple lips, an annoying comment no doubt.

Instead you’re surprised by an admission.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this, for tha-”

You pull her into another kiss, brief and chaste.

Even, enamoured in your touch and out of breath as you pull away, her eyes narrow. Something was amiss.

You can't help your own devilish grin, “all year?”

She scoffs, the kind of reluctant but annoyed huff you expected as she rolls her eyes.

“God, you really are an asshole.”

Still, there's an unequivocal softness to the way she says it, you can taste the burn of her annoyed smile as she drags you into another kiss.

At least you found your necklace you guess?

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 7 months

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Relax, I’m From The Future

A conversation with writer-director Luke Higgingson

Relax, I’m From The Future was a surprise fav of mine at last year’s Fantasia Fest, and it’s finally getting a theatrical release! The movie is a punk rock sci-fi comedy with a lot of wit and even more heart starring Rhys Darby (Flight of the Conchords, Our Flag Means Death) and Gabrielle Graham (Possessor, Twenties) as an unlikely duo trying, sort of, not really, to save the world. I got a chance to speak with writer-director Luke Higginson a few weeks ago about all the work that went into his debut feature. Read our (lightly edited for clarity) conversation below!

Tell me, how do you describe this movie to other people?

It’s very much my attempt to work through my anxieties about the future and the state of the world in a way that might bring me some comfort without eliminating the very real cynicism I have about it. [My short film in 2013] started as a simple joke idea — the idea of an unprepared timetraveler — and then when people sort of liked that film more than I expected, I thought about how I would make that meaningful enough to expand it. And as I noodled on that, Trump got elected, and Covid happened, a lot of terrible things happened… It really became a source of therapy for me to write this ridiculous film and pump my anxieties into it. That’s really where I found what the film was about.

There is an incredible dynamic between Rhys and Gabrielle — how did you work your story with them?

Gabriel Graham was the first person that I knew I wanted to cast [as Holly]. I saw Brandon Cronenberg’s Possessor, and she had such presence, but I didn’t know if she was funny, so I watched Twenties… it was clear she had comic chops.

For Casper [Rhys Darby’s character], you have to be on board with following him even when he does some questionable things. And also, he’s on screen for so much of the movie that it had to be someone with real energy, especially in a script that’s mostly people talking to each other. There weren’t a lot of people that I felt fit that. Then when his name was floated, it was immediately like omg holy shit that would be amazing! My producers at Wango films are phenomenally gifted at getting scripts in hands. I spent a couple of days building up a dossier of arguments for why he should do the film. And when we got on the call and he was just like “Hey, so I just wanted to meet ya and make sure you were ok with me doing this movie”, I was blown away. He had this tiny little window where we could get him for 15 shooting days and he agreed to come up [to Hamilton, Ontario] and do it. I’m still pinching myself about that, it was amazing.

In terms of working with them, because of that window of time, there was no time for rehearsal. There was barely time for Rhys to learn his lines. I got one hour of Rhys and Gabby in a room together before the first day of shooting… Something clicked, it was like Oh it’s Casper and Holly, they’re hanging out!

The scene in the playground — where the two of them are sharing a bottle of booze and talking — was incredibly cold, absurdly cold. And they were both very underdressed for that weather. They were both improving and bouncing off of each other. That was the scene where I felt like ah there’s something special between these two in particular. It was cool, it was really special, both of them are just amazing.

Wait, the shooting schedule was only 15 days?

We had Rhys for 15 days, and we shot for 18 days, but Rhys is in almost all of the movie.

How did the music in the movie play into writing your story and how did you manage to clear all those songs?

I knew a ton of people in the Toronto indie-rock punk scene and I always knew that if I ever got to make a movie, I knew all these great songs that no one knows. I listened to a lot of that stuff writing the film — Holly being part of the punk scene was very important to the character. I gave [Gabrielle] a playlist of a bunch of 70s CBGB stuff, she watched a documentary on Poly Styrene. That really embodied the vibe of the music. I wanted it to be all Toronto music on the soundtrack, it’s basically a split between songs from bands that I played with or went to see back in the day and bands that are still operating right now. The big coup was getting Pup involved, which was really exciting. They didn’t have to say yes at all, but they really were big fans of Rhys and [because of Covid] I think they were a little itchy to get on stage in front of a bunch of people. We got to use a few of their songs, as well as Metz and Bad Waitress and a couple of other great bands.

In terms of the licensing side what I didn’t expect as a problem was that many of those bands no longer exist and never had any kind of official existence in terms of paper work or legality, so I perhaps foolishly did not see that coming as a problem. Anagram, Sailboats Are White, Lunchmeat — all great bands that I love, but [licensing their songs] was a trickier thing than I thought it was gonna be.

What are some of the challenges or joys that you encountered in the editing room, putting this thing together?

The editing process was long, longer than I expected. My baby was 6 months old when we started shooting, which was a real challenge for me and my wife. I literally edited the film with my baby next to me, so it took a while. But really, it was about matching the film to Rhys’s rhythm. When we [cast] Rhys, who’s one of the best improvisers comedically in the world, I knew that [for the edit] I was gonna want both sides of the conversations he has with Gabby. So any time that Rhys is talking to another person, there’s two cameras going at the same time and that really allowed us to use the little moments of inspiration and improvisation. If Rhys gives you a piece of gold, you know that you have it covered. That was big, I think both in the shooting and in the editing.

Time travel can be a tricky narrative device! How did you build the rules of this universe?

I knew right off the bat that I was neither capable nor interested in doing something scientifically “accurate”, but you also don’t want the audience to feel like you don’t give a shit. It has to feel like there’s an internal consistency. So my guiding principle was that rules of time travel are going to be what serves the humour and the story, and then once I have those things, to make sure it’s internally consistent. It actively subverts what I felt was the most common tropes — like in Terminator, you have to be naked to travel through time, in my movie you have to have no skin showing of any kind. In most time travel movies you can go back and forth, in mine you can only go back. When drafting it out, I went with the ideas that I found funny, then once I had the beats, I worked very hard to make sure it was internally consistent within that.

What was screening your film at Fantasia like?

It was incredible, I can’t say enough good things about Fantasia. I wanna shout out programmer Carolyn Mauricette, who saw a very rough cut of the film without any of the sound mix or special effects. She saw it, she got it, she connected to it. It just meant so much, that phase of the editing process, you’re very emotionally fragile, you have no idea if you’ve made something that works or not, and that was such a vote of confidence.

What are you hoping people take away from this?

I am genuinely very excited for people to see Rhys do this. I feel like he uses some muscles that you don’t get to see him use normally, he’s such a star. And I think Gabriel Graham is incredibly slept on, like she’s a successful actor but I think way more people should know her. I’m gonna sit in on a bunch of screenings — I never need to watch the movie again, but I do love watching the audience watch it, and there are some moments in the back third of the movie that I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing an audience react to.

I didn’t even ask you about Julian Richings!

He’s incredible! I got him [cast as Percy] by recording a video begging him to be in the movie because he’s a legend! I first saw him in Hard Core Logo when I was a teenager, he’s so captivating. So ya, I recorded a shameless message and sent it to him, and luckily he is the sweetest man in the world, just the easiest person in the world to work with — I can’t say enough nice things about him.

I think this movie has a lot for a lot of different crowds of people — you got the gays, you got the nerds, you got the horror fans -

Those are all my people! Those are my favourite type of people!

I’m excited for people to see it!

Me too!

Source: Bad Critic

#rhys darby #ofmd #our flag means death #relax i'm from the future #interview #luke higginson

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saltygilmores · 5 months

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THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: APPLICATION ANXIETY (SEASON 3, EPISODE 3, PART 4)

I didn't think I'd be going into four chapters+ for this filler/completely lacking in boy drama episode, but here we are.

Shady Taylor Business as per uzh. He’s committed so many white collar crimes that he’s in over his head trying to keep track of them all. Does ayone else just think of Taylor as the Mayor? He’s technically “town selectman", which is a real thing, and after many years I've finally looked up what a selectman does. I won't bore you with the details, but somehow Taylor got put into a position of authority that involves a heavy responsibility for other people's money. I know we have seen the actual mayor of The Hollow before, but only twice so far, I think. Taylor is treading into the shark infested waters of airing private grievances with Luke Danes publicly, again. Has Taylor learned nothing from the last time he tried this stunt at the emergency meeting he called about Jess and his sidewalk drawing? He really loves poking that hornet's nest. It's not going to be pretty.

Miss Patty waving at Rory and Lorelai. She is such a treasure. A horny, horny treasure. She must be protected at all costs.

Taylor calls his malt shop a "necessary service", which immediately calls me back to our comedian friend who predicted Taylor would classify his malt shop as a "necessary service" in order to stay open during the pandemic. How was that guy so spot on about everything?

That's real slimy, Taylor. Taylor Doose is slime. And not the fun kind of slime, either. According to Slimy Doose, If a 3/4ths majority of the town decide Taylor should have that building then he gets that building. It's just that simple! Check the towns bylaws! Which were probably written by Taylor! Why does Taylor want to run Luke out of town so badly? His diner is literally the only attraction in town that keeps the town economy churning (well, not Rory and Lorelai's money, but everyone else's). Taylor spends 7 years trying to find the money to fix a small wooden bridge. Like Tumblr, behind the scenes, The Hollow is being held together with paperclips and fairy dust. If tourists ever find out that Luke's special coffee is nothing more than ordinary Folgers, it's all over.

No, Salty is NOT going to research the nitty gritty details of eminent domain for you to determine if Luke is correct. You're on your own, people. I'm here to make the masturbation jokes.

Now things are real getting real loopy doopy as Taylor stands his ground that his proposed soda shop is even more necessary than a hospital. DId someone vote this guy in? According to Google, yes. A town selectman is an elected position. The people who voted for Taylor may even be voting in larger elections, which is a scary thought. Ya'll voted for this putz, you live with him.

KICK HIS ASS!

RORY YOU ARE NOT HELPING. Sit down! Oh, you already are. Well, keep sitting. And stop talking. The town decides they love their beloved coffee proprietor Luke so much that they refuse to side with him and don't give a flying cupcake if he gets screwed into next week. If this were my unrated Gilmore Girls spinoff, The Hollow, which explores the gritty realism of small tourist town life, the Malt shop goes under in a few years because the economies of these towns are very shaky. Someone is going to turn around and Eminent Domain Taylor's ass and bulldoze his businesses to build luxury townhomes.

If looks could kill, man. Someone PLEASE edit a cartoon bloody axe or hatchet into this screen shot for me. I'm going to use this face on the promo posters for my horror movie series, "Blood In The Hollow." Luke's Revenge.

Rory saying "Ice cream soda, yum" and a couple of elderly people nodding is enough to count as a majority vote. I know they worship Rory in the Hollow for some reason but how does she have that much power? Can't we get some kind of auditor in here to examine the electoral process in The Hollow? Then an accountant to audit Taylor's financial books.

Yay! We hate you Luke! Go get fucked! But keep the free coffee coming.

Even after what she just did, you know she’s going to shamelessly march right over to the diner where she won’t pay him for her food and coffee. I saw Lane unaccompained at the meeting, and started thinking since Mrs Kim apparently lets Lane go to town meetings unsupervised, they're a perfect opportunity for her to get out from the watchful eye of her mother and get up to some teenage rebellion/shenanigans. I still say she should have hooked up with Jess to give her mother a coronary.

Welcome, Shenanigans. We get an introductory story about Rygalski's musical interests, which Lane finds rather keen. Keen is like my new favorite word. It's old fashioned sounding so it just works with these old fashioned teenagers.

Get a hold of yourself woman!

Don't underestimate this geek in a dorky sweater. He's smooth.

Could she be any dorkier? Sheesh.

Don't tell me Lorelai doesn't looks jealous watching Rory kiss Dean. Dean actually listens patiently while Rory updates him about her life, and this behavior continues to feel highly suspicious. Is it because he was at home jerking off while everyone else was at the meeting and now he's not so cranky?

Don't worry Deano, you won't be lonely. There are other fish in the Hollow. Maybe you'll even manage to trap some poor innocent teenage girl and brainwash her into marrying you. I'm still not sure how he pulled that off.

I saw these oven mitts on Amazon yesterday and thought of Lindsey Lister. Whenever she's cooking one of Dean's meatloaves, she's quietly side eyeing the box of rat poison under the sink. Rory is mildly irritated because his question is "blunt and out of nowhere." and a discussion About Our Future is underway.

I'm going to keep a scoring system for this discussion: +1 point to Rory because Dean's question was really "out of nowhere" and dropped on suddenly her late at night. +1 point to Dean because his question wasn't totally unreasonable. Minus 1 point for Dean because Rory hasn't even been accepted to Harvard, no less any college, yet. + half point for Dean doing the bare minimum and believing in the idea that Rory will get into Harvard later. Minus 1 point for Dean because even if she did get into college she isn't going to start for another year, so he could have waited like, at least another 6 months before it would matter. Minus 1 point for Dean because there's no guarantee they will even be together a year from now (and they won't be).

Minus 1 point for Rory even entertaining the silly notion that she could have a "Weekends only" relationship with Dean when he is a controlling maniac who tracks her schedule and gets angry if she does not spend every minute of her free time with him. MInus 1 point for Rory engaging in more "I promise I will spend every spare minute of every day that I'm not studying with you" and "we can talk on the phone constantly during the week" negotiations. Enough with the negotiations!! Minus a kajillion points for Dean just because he's rotten hamburger meat. What is he going to do Monday-Friday after he graduates hgh school, without Rory to kick around like his personal hacky sack? Reversing the roles for fun: Dean: What are you going to do when I leave for college? Rory:

"Christianne Amanpour spends of a third of her life in foxholes in third world countries! She was on C-Span last week getting an award! And she has a family!" Girl?! Rory Gilmore is comparing her life to that of an award winning, world renowned field journalist, someone who travels the world and risks her life on a regular basis, to her life as a boring high school student dating another boring high school student, some illiterate 17 year old softball playing clown from Stars Hollow Connecticut whose own mother is still trying to abandon him at a gas station, hoping that a pack of wild dogs will find and adopt him as one of their own instead. If Christianne Amanpour can survive being blown up in a war torn country and go home to her husband and family at the end of the day, then surely Dean Forrester and Rory Gilmore can make it work. Rory, pleaase. Settle down. Minus -2 points for that sheer ridiculousness. I'm not sure Dean even knows who Christianne Amanpour is, anyway. This goes on WAY too long so I will summarize so I can get on with my life and finally finish out this episode. R: Dean you should to go to college in Boston D: I'm going to junior college R: Junior college in Boston?! D: No dorm rooms R: Rent an apartment! D: With what money? R:Why are you being like this? D: Realistic? R: Stop being so serious D: Forget it Jackson: What happens to Rory's room when she moves out, can i rent it out to put my tools in it? Lorelai: Idk (panic sweats at the thought of losing her codependent relationship with Rory if she moved out) Springsteen (Harvard Dinner Guy) on answering machine: I looked at Rory's records and even though I'm just some rich guy who graduated decades ago and I don't actually attend Harvard anymore or work at Harvard and I only met her once over an awkward dinner where she barely said anything, she's definitely a shoo in for Harvard, she may as well just pack her bags and move in right now. like she should find a dorm room that's already occupied and kick out whoever's living there already and take over their room. I'm going to tell everyone I know that Rory is definitely for sure going to Harvard there has never been a more Harvardy student that has ever ever Harvarded before. The end. Things Googled While Watching GIlmore Girls: Selectman, is a selectman elected, codependent relationship Things Not Googled: Eminent domain

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #rory gilmore #lorelai gilmore #luke danes #shady taylor business #gilmore girls season 3 #application anxiety #you guys #I think my dashboard dilemma is fixed #this is the second one in a row that I could actually see immediately after posting #hallelujah #still holding my breath though #I was having trouble remembering some of the early season 3 episodes and now a few of them have come back to me #the next one's a good one

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bornspellcaster · 1 year

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Little Firefly - 1

(When the time pool closes before she reaches it and Luz finds herself hopelessly stuck in ancient times, an incident forces her to work together with her enemy to ensure their survival. In the midst of it, Luz learns there may be more than meets the eye to the frigid Puritan, and discovers the real secret to saving The Boiling Isles may just lie in reuniting an estranged family…)

She didn’t think she had to look behind her. The Boiling Isles should have honed her instincts better. She should have known! Perhaps she’d gotten too cocky, too confident, too assured that she would find her way back home without a problem. Surely she couldn’t get stuck away from home, away from home!

She’d just been about to leap into the rippling, and closing pool when her arm was harshly seized. “Hey!”

“Luz!” Lilith cried, her heterochromatic eyes widening with horror right as the ripples in the sand stilled.

“I followed you, you know,” Philip began casually as he yanked the child away. “And it didn’t occur to me to ask you—mostly because I was too busy nursing my broken FACE—but I have a series of questions for you, little wench. What has your kind been doing infiltrating the human world in the first place?”

“I-“ Luz struggled as she reached out towards the sand. “Let go of me!”

“And I heard you talking with your aunt, you’re trying to make a door. Do you have some ingredients needed already? What are they and where are they?!” he growled. “And where does that pool even lead?”

“I don’t have any! The only portal I made collapsed in on itself!” Luz ripped herself out of his grip, her hands desperately scrambling through the sand, and shoveling up grains with her hands. She felt her anxiety climb with every inch deeper she dug, no pool in sight.

He scoffed as he straightened himself and got up, clearly paying no mind to the teen increasingly on the edge of a mental break down as she kicked and dug sand like a dog, all but shoving her face into the dirt.

“Clearly I have no use left for you then,” Philip said coldly as he left the teen to her own devices. She didn’t even hear him leave, too busy shoving her face in different parts of the beach, in a vain attempt to find another pool to take her home..

It hadn’t taken long to find him after that, his boot prints leaving their tracks along the sand and up a path leading to a cave. Luz was sure her own shoe prints were sizzling into the earth. The boiling anger seething within her rivaled the temperature of the seas.

So this is where he lived, huh? Fitting. Smelly. Old looking and alone. Cold. …Empty. She’d seen prison cells that had more furnishing. It looked like his bed was a stone slab. There was a worn old table that he’d probably stolen from someone, and on it, a simple fishing rod and what looked like a badly whittled spear.

And there he was with his back turned.

“YOU!” Luz roared.

Philip barely had time to register the events, of vitriol spat curses in a tongue he hadn’t heard in quite some time, the man looking over in time to see a blur of colors, and being sent crashing hard to the ground.

Luz pettily clung to the back of his jacket, her hands ripping fistfuls of his beard, electing enraged shrieks of pain as the scraggly man grappled with the girl, until he’d finally ripped the brat off of him by the scruff of her collar.

“You detestable little wench!” the man seethed through tightly clenched teeth. He hurled her to the ground. “How DARE you lay a hand on me, you beastly little creature!”

Luz sneered through emotionally and physically pained tears. “Ohoho I’ll show you beastly, you smelly old dirt bag!” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a crumpled parchment, and Philip’s eyes widened as he barely had a chance to barrel roll out of the way of a crackling fireball.

“You wish to throw fire, do you?” Philip reached into his pocket and pulled out his own set of parchments, malice crackling as brightly as the flames as he clapped together two different glyphs, and Luz quickly deflected the hot bolt of electricity with a wall of vines.

“Thanks to you I’m STUCK HERE!” Luz roared, trying to lunge at his ankles with a string of tightly constricting vines. “You kept me back, away from my aunt and the time pool closed before I went through!” she shouted.

“Well perhaps you should have just stayed in your own time then.” Ducking away from needle sharp shards of ice, he bared his teeth. “Oh I’ve had just about enough of you, you little barbarian!”

“Yeah?? How about you come back to the beach with me? I’ve dug a few holes, one big enough to be YOUR GRAVE!” She tried to hurtle a ball of fire at the man, but his vines whipped out like a scourge.

Luz yelped loudly in pain as the spiked vines seized her around the waist, and hurled her against the rock side of the cave. Finally unable to withstand anymore abuse today, her helmet, dented from the battle, could no longer even grip onto her head.

Philip watched the gladiator helmet fall to the ground, and his shoulders fell slack in shock. “…You’re a human?”

Before Luz could respond, the cave….began to rumble. Both gasped in horror as it began to collapse in on itself. Boulders crashed to the ground, sending shards of gravel and clouds of dust billowing into the air. It was hard to see. It was hard to hear over the roaring.

“Damnit, look what you’ve done!” Philip shouted at the child. She didn’t have time to snip back at him, as just then, another several rocks fell in front of the entrance, plunging them into deeper darkness. There was barely a sliver of light remaining.

Philip looked frantically back at the entrance he knew they couldn’t risk using as an exit. There were too many rocks falling. One by one, falling like a child’s wooden blocks, and soon they would reach them.

“This way!” Philip growled as he started to run further into his cave. “Well? If you don’t want to become a flapjack then come on! Makes no difference to me!”

Luz didn’t hesitate a moment longer before quickly following Philip. “It’s a dead end!”

“No. It only seems like it is!” He shoved the girl aside as he reached a strange part of the wall. Clapping a glyph combination onto the rocks, Luz was nearly blown back by the force of the sudden blast. The stack of rocks tumbled downward to reveal another passage that twisted further into the ever darkening cave.

“Ahhhhh!” An ear piercing shriek that came from the man made Luz spin around in shock. She gasped when she saw Philip, pinned to the ground by the leg by a bowling ball sized rock. Ichor spilled and stained the cave floor and Luz could already see a sizeable gash from here.

For one mean moment, she considered turning back around…but that moment didn’t last. Gritting her teeth with a groan, Luz rushed back quickly to Philip. The man’s cerulean eyes followed her in confusion as she whipped out her vines and looped one end around the boulder, and the other part of the vine she reeled around both of her wrists.

“What are you-“

“Just help me!” Luz snarled, as Philip began pushing at the boulder as well. Once free, Luz looped the vines around his midsection and her arms under his, dragging his limp leg through the passageway, and leaving a long dark trail of blood as she did.

Philip tried to tuck them into the crevice as much as he could, and he winced with the child as the roaring got louder. Luz squeezed up close to him and shut her eyes.

They were plunged into total darkness. ….The roaring stopped and the only sounds that could be heard were the remaining small pebbles tumbling down the decrepit walls. The cloud of dust still had a chokehold around their throats, forcing them to cough into the fabric of their clothes.

Both panted in terror and Luz looked around her. The cave was so black she couldn’t even see her own hand now. The chaos having settled for a moment, she was aware of a nauseating stickiness covering her hands that stunk of copper. She knew what it was, and she didn’t know if it was from her or him.

“Ugh….” Him, definitely him.

Luz reached into her pockets with slippery hands and pulled out one of her glyphs. Activating it, an orb of light illuminated their surroundings, and the blood coating her fingers. …And Philip. Luz’s stomach sunk. He was getting pale.

“We’ve gotta stop the bleeding.” She glared at him and pulled the bandage he’d been nursing his fake injury with earlier, none too gently. “Look at that, pretend to be hurt and then you actually get hurt. Karma is a B, huh? At least you have use for this bandage now!”

Philip glowered at her through half lidded eyes, but even in the limited light Luz saw something that she hadn’t seen from the scruffy old scholar since meeting him. Genuine confusion…and almost bewilderment. Like someone had never shown him genuine kindness before…despite how she had willingly done so when they met and that’s how this mess began.

“Why did you save me?”

Luz sighed as she grimaced trying to stretch in the little, cramped space they had. “Because I’m not like you. I don’t just let other people die, even if I don’t like them.” She tilted her head wryly. “And you’re the only one that knows the way out of this cave. Now come on, lean on me,” she sighed.

He looked uncertainly at her hand that she offered out, and scowling, he grimaced and groaned as he stumbled into a limp, pointedly refusing her hand.

Luz scoffed and started walking through the small passage. “Whatever.” She instead looked around her, trying to assess the passage and just how long it might be. It twisted and turned into different stretches going down, seeming to be surprisingly deep. “It’s a labyrinth . Geez, it looked shallow until I actually got a deeper look!”

“It’s always been fairly deep,” Philip agreed, wincing as he used his splint/shovel from earlier as a cane, and stumbling his way down the dark path. “I got an infestation of those blasted spider bats and sealed off most of the other paths. I made it one tiny room, but with enough chipping away, we’ll be able to safely destroy the rocks blocking the openings.”

Luz nodded hopefully and brought to life another bright beaming glyph, shining like a small beacon to illuminate the path that lay beyond.

“Why didn’t you…tell me you were human?” Philip asked conversationally as they walked. He tried to sound as casual as he could, but inside he was reeling. Another human, here? A human CHILD, no less? By the titan, the little girl looked nearly the same age he was when he came here.

He felt for her, despite everything. He couldn’t imagine how terrifying this wretched place was for someone her age.

Luz scoffed. “Well initially it’s because me being human has led to more people than not trying to kill me at first meeting, but it seems if you get a jerk big enough like you that doesn’t matter.”

“I wouldn’t have used you as a sacrifice if I knew you were a human child!” he exclaimed angrily.

“And that makes it better? You would still kill my aunt.”

He made a face of derision. “ If you’re a human child, you don’t have a witch aunt. What are you doing fraternizing with these savages anyway?”

Luz whirled right around, and the light glowed about as hot as the rage in her almond shaped eyes. “Say that again and I’ll give you a punch in the jaw to match your broken nose.” She wasn’t sure if she could though, purely because of the injury he was currently nursing. It felt a bit like overkill and was probably making him suffer enough.

Speaking of… She glanced down at his leg and her eyebrows shot up in concern. Already a dark stain of red was soaking through the linen and starting to trickle down his leg. Judging by the way he was beginning to sway, blood loss was beginning to affect him.

“Save your bigotry for when you have more strength, how about?” Luz said dryly. “We’ve got to figure out how to stop the bleeding because this bandage isn’t working. I need to get a better look into this wound.”

“And I’m supposed to trust your expertise on medical knowledge?” Philip snipped, and Luz nearly shoved him to the ground.

“You will if you want to live, my dude! Your choice! Besides, my Mom is a vet, and she’s taught me a few things.”

Luz sighed as she looked at the glowing orb still hovering in her palm. It was barely enough to let her see his leering blue eyes, let alone the full extent of a potentially severe wound.

“I need more light.” She grappled around in the near darkness until she found a shard of rock, one she could possibly use to scratch engravings onto the ground. “Just hold on tight, alright?”

It was difficult in such a cramped space, but Luz managed to slowly turn a circle, the shard of rock dragging across the ground with hideous scraping sounds, drawing a much larger light glyph. She slapped her foot down and Philip winced at the blinding flash, opening one eye and staring at a much brighter ball of light that bounced its glowing rays down the tunnels.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with. Oh yikes, you’ve lost a shade of your complexion in the past five minutes.” Luz winced as she looked at the woozy man.

Cautiously Luz unwrapped the wound, and she inhaled sharply. It was worse than she thought. It wasn’t deadly, but left to its own devices it may be. It was bleeding, bubbling up froth and dirt and the bleeding needed to be stopped. “I don’t have a needle and thread on me…so you’re going to have to bear with me.”

Philip looked at her uncertainly. “What does that mean?”

Cleaning away the gravel and grime from the gash, Luz bit her lip and sketched a small fire glyph. Immediately Philip’s eyes bulged out. “No! Don’t you think it!” he cried.

“Look it either has to be sewn or cauterized or this could go from something serious to deadly!” Luz snapped. “I’ll be as gentle as I can be, even though you don’t deserve gentle.”

“Gentle. With fire?! How does that work?!” he snapped, eyes wide in obvious terror. He’d lost more color but Luz had a feeling that wasn’t blood loss.

“I-I don’t know!” she spluttered. “It’s our only shot right now though.” Grimacing, Luz tore off a piece of her shirt and shoveled it in the man’s mouth. Huh, she should have done that long ago…

The girl searched around for an object she could heat up, finding her options limited. In the end, she went for the tip of his shovel and nervously ignited a fire glyph. She held the flame against the metal for a good minute, and tried not to feel pity when she saw the fear in his expression.

“Deep breath, okay?” Luz asked gently. She prayed she knew what she was doing and she pressed the red hot metal against his wound. The sizzling crackled from his skin and the stench of burning flesh stung her nostrils. His raw screams of anguish, even muffled, were the next to permeate her senses.

Philip shrieked and tried to keep still, his hand spasming around and looking for something to grip onto for leverage. He panted and heaved, nearly vomiting into the rag in his mouth. Sweat streamed down the sides of his face and tears threatened his eyes.

Luz pulled away. “It’s over,” she reassured, pleased to see the wound had clotted, the flame siphoning off the leaking vessel. “Are, uh, you okay?” Even with everything he’d done, she took no pleasure in that.

Philip was struggling to get his bearings, but nodded shakily as he stumbled to his feet. “I-I’m fine,” he said begrudgingly as he stood. “We need to keep moving before we lose oxygen.” His legs shook, nearly sending him into the rock face.

“How long might that be?” Luz bit her lip.

“Soon if we don’t hurry.”

Eventually they reached another twist in the long rocky passage and a stack of well placed rocks. In such a narrow tunnel, these might be harder to destroy without further injury…or trapping.

Still, Philip extracted his shovel, the shovel head glinting in their bright golden light source. He struck down, putting weight on it with his good leg, and attempting to maneuver the metal underneath one of the small boulders. “Damnit,” he cursed. “It’s wedged tighter than I…” He grunted and with a final yank, there was the sound of a snap. …It had broken as effortlessly as a toothpick.

Two parchments glowed green as vines sprouted around Luz’s arms once more, looping around the rocks. Try as she might to yank at them, it was to no avail. They were wedged, and tightly it seemed. “Geez, how tight did you stack these things?”

“It didn’t seem to be that much!” he grunted.

“We’re so close to the other side too,” Luz sighed as she slumped against the boulders. With her ear pressed against cold granite she could hear all the sounds of the cave. Distant, dripping stalactites, the sound of stray pebbles tumbling down. And…

“Breathing…” The child’s eyes widened in horror as she slowly backed up, already preparing to reach into her pocket and snatched glyphs from her pockets. Her stash was starting to run low. It was difficult to flex her blood encrusted fingers. “Oh no…oh, it smells the blood!”

“What does?!” Philip backed up quickly, ready to limp into the other direction as fast as he could and leave the child to be consumed.

“I don’t know!” Luz veered from side to side, holding up her light glyph. The glow illuminated a bright and pale yellow eye peering through the cracks. The teenager grit her teeth as she held up a ball of flames threateningly, but whatever their predator was pursued anyway and Luz gulped as the rocks started to jostle from their positions. “Well, at least it’s moving the rocks…”

The creature let off a horrible screech and Luz backpedaled onto the cave floor, her palms scraping the rocks as she attempted to put as much distance from the creature as she could. Just in time it seemed, as the rocks tumbled down right where she’d been standing.

“It’s broken through! Hey!” Luz gaped as she whirled around. She shouldn’t be surprised, but somehow it still stung seeing Philip limping in the other direction. “Get back here!”

The creature screeched again, confusingly softer this time. Luz looked up, and she saw the friendly face of the stonesleeper, whom she had affectionately nicknamed Pancake. Its large beak twitched curiously. “Pancake!” she laughed. “Did you follow us here?” Excitedly, she ran forward and clambered the rough stone of its body to reach its back. “I’m so happy to see you!” She scratched behind the creature’s long horns.

Luz tossed a cold glare at Philip standing, or more so wobbling, about five feet away from them now. The small amount of pity she’d formed for him in the last few minutes had dissipated like a puff of smoke. “I should leave you here. I should drop another friggin boulder on your leg, you jerk!”

“I didn’t know what that beast was at first! And I don’t know how in the titan’s name you’ve managed to tame it.” He narrowed his eyes at the ancient monster that didn’t look overly enthused to see him.

“I’m just that awesome,’ Luz had to preen, strutting her chest like a proud peacock. She reached a hand down to seize one of his grimy ones. He seemed to be glaring at the beast with utter distaste and it was all she could keep from losing her temper and telling Pancake to trample him.

“Your hands are all crusty.”

This bitch… “Yes with YOUR blood, and it’s about to be more if you don’t get. on. the stonesleeper,” she spoke, through bared teeth. He got the message.

With its two passengers aboard, Pancake lifted its head, stone horns rearing up for momentum, and swinging down into the rest of any rocks that made this narrow squeeze a tight fit. Luz could feel a refreshing cool breeze touch her skin. It was a welcome change to the humid and stale air of the cave. There wasn’t very much light however.

“It’s night,” Luz realized as they finally reached the opening. She could see a canvas of sparkling stars stretch across the night sky.

Astute observation,” Philip said dryly as he nearly shoved away from the stonesleeper in disgust, despite doing so leading to him landing hard on his injured leg.

“I hope you have nothing really important inside that cave, because whoo boy…” Luz whistled as she looked at the fallen rock structure. Philip’s face fell slightly.

“Anything of significance I have with me,” he said, patting his satchel. “…However, all of my food and equipment is in there, and now I’ll have to start fresh.” He turned to look at Luz. “Well I appreciate your assistance, child. Now it seems we’re free to part ways!”

Luz whirled to the asshole, her eyes blazing at the sheer, thoughtless audacity. Just when she thought he couldn’t get any worse, honestly. “Free to part ways??” she shouted at him. “Because of you I’m stuck here! Nuh uh, you dirtbag! You are going to tell me how to get home or I am going to cauterize the rest of you!” she threatened.

He called her out on her bluff, with the most satisfied smirk. “Clearly you’re far too ‘nice’ to act on that threat.”

“You’re really that much of a psychopath to leave a kid out here alone??” She rolled her eyes. “A ‘human’ kid?”

Philip scoffed as he turned to start down the dirt path, turning mostly so Luz didn’t see the micro flash of turmoil as ‘human’ touched his ears. “I think you’ve proven you’re more than a helpless human child, Luzura. You can survive on your own.”

He took a few steps and cried out. Sharp burning daggers shot up his injured leg and fell him like a ton of bricks.

Luz watched apathetically as he groaned. “You can’t.” She smirked as she moseyed along behind him, triumphant at his glare. “Besides, if you don’t help me I’ll just follow along on Pancake and bug the crap out of you until you do, and make things more difficult for you. Oh, that’s if you haven’t fallen down a cliff or gotten eaten because you can’t outrun anything…” Her evil grin widened as his glare darkened.

“…Fine,” Philip finally growled. “I’ll take you to a place that may be able to help you, and may be able to get information on how to create another time pool. It’s a few towns over. Consider it my repayment for your…kindness.” He almost stumbled out the last word, like it was so rare in his vocabulary he didn’t know how to say it.

“Good then. I guess for tonight we should try to find somewhere to sleep. And it’s Luz by the way.” Luz yanked him back up on the stonesleeper’s back. “Now get on Pancake, shut up, and let’s get going.”

“Why ever did you name it Pancake...?”

---

(And at last after two years the first chapter of Little Firefly is finally up! This is a fic I’ve wanted to write and have written and role played on and off for a while, but it was the uncertainty of canon and the ever changing plot and how it might conflict even more with my decision making that prevented me from writing this.

Now that the show is done I am more than confident with how I plan to twist some canon into my au and write my slightly more ‘neutered’ Philip Wittebane. This fic is highly Wittebro centric with a bit of a different take on some events, and of course one of the biggest focuses is on Philip and Luz. So I hope you all enjoy my take on ‘what if Luz got stuck in time and found herself back with the Wittebro-Clawthorne ancestors? c:)

#toh #the owl house #philip wittebane #belos #luz noceda #toh fanfic #caleb wittebane #the wittebane brothers #evelyn clawthorne #ITS FINALLY DONE OH MY GOD THE FIRST CHAPTER....

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