#chapter 4? just prepare to enjoy yourself | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

velvetvisionsaurora · 1 month ago

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Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 4: Finding Your Place

Your alarm chirped gently at 6:00 AM, pulling you from a dream you couldn't quite remember but that left you with a lingering sense of warmth. For a disorienting moment, you stared at the unfamiliar ceiling before remembering where you were: the ATEEZ guesthouse, your new home.

"First day," you murmured to yourself, reaching up to check your scent blocker patch—still securely in place. The action had become so habitual you often did it without thinking, especially when anticipating stressful situations.

You slipped out of bed and padded to the window, pulling back the curtains to reveal the soft light of dawn spreading across the garden. The main house was still dark, its occupants likely still asleep. According to the preliminary schedule Minwoo had sent, most of the members wouldn't need to be up until 7:30 for a 9:00 AM meeting at the company.

After a quick shower, you dressed carefully in professional but comfortable attire—black slacks, a crisp button-up shirt, and low heels that would allow you to move quickly if needed. As you applied a light layer of makeup, you ran through the day's schedule in your mind, mentally preparing for your first official day as ATEEZ's assistant.

Seonghwa's thoughtful basket of essentials meant you could enjoy a simple breakfast in your kitchen rather than having to venture out. As you sipped your coffee, you reviewed the notes you'd made from the materials Minwoo had sent over, committing key details to memory.

At precisely 6:45 AM, you left the guesthouse and made your way to the main house, the morning air crisp against your skin. You'd been given a key card to access the house, but hesitated briefly before using it. It felt strange to enter someone else's home while they might still be sleeping.

Just as you were debating whether to knock or use the card, the door opened, revealing Hongjoong, already dressed and looking surprisingly alert for the early hour.

"Good morning," he greeted you with a warm smile that sent a flutter through your stomach. "I thought I saw someone approaching from my window."

"I hope I'm not too early," you replied, suddenly second-guessing your timing. "Manager Minwoo suggested I arrive by 7:00 to prepare for the day."

Hongjoong stepped aside to let you enter. "Not at all. I'm usually the first one up, but Seonghwa shouldn't be far behind. The others..." He chuckled softly. "Let's just say waking them is an art form you'll need to master quickly."

Hongjoong led you through the quiet house to the kitchen, where the rich aroma of brewing coffee filled the air. Despite having already had a cup at the guesthouse, you found yourself accepting his offer of another. There was something intimate about sharing this early morning moment before the chaos of the day began.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, leaning against the counter as he handed you a steaming mug.

"Surprisingly, yes," you admitted. "I usually have trouble sleeping in new places, but I was so exhausted from moving that I fell asleep almost immediately."

Hongjoong's smile was tinged with something like satisfaction. "I'm glad. The first day is always the hardest—getting oriented, meeting everyone. Today should be a bit more structured."

You were about to respond when Seonghwa entered the kitchen, his hair slightly damp from a recent shower but otherwise immaculately put together. His eyes brightened upon seeing you.

"Y/n, good morning," he greeted, his voice warm. "You're an early riser too, I see."

"I wanted to get a head start," you explained. "There's a lot to learn."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly. "A good approach. I'm about to start breakfast for everyone—would you like something? I noticed you've already got coffee."

"Oh, thank you, but I ate at the guesthouse," you replied, touched by the offer. "Those groceries you brought over yesterday were perfect."

A pleased expression crossed Seonghwa's face. "I'm glad they were useful. Now, about waking the others..." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "They should be up in thirty minutes if we want to avoid a last-minute rush."

Hongjoong sighed dramatically. "And here's your first real challenge as our assistant, Y/n. Getting six sleepy alphas out of bed and ready on time is no small feat."

Your first lesson in ATEEZ's morning routine was both enlightening and amusing. Seonghwa, you quickly learned, had developed a systematic approach to waking each member based on their individual habits.

"Yunho is usually easy—just knock and call his name," Seonghwa explained as you followed him down the hallway. "Jongho too, though he might need a second reminder. Wooyoung and San are the real challenges."

"They sleep deeply?" you asked, mentally taking notes for future reference.

"More like they actively resist waking up," Hongjoong interjected from behind you, amusement evident in his voice. "Wooyoung once pretended to be sleepwalking to avoid a morning schedule."

True to Seonghwa's prediction, Yunho responded to a simple knock and call, his deep voice answering with a cheerful, "I'm up, I'm up!" Jongho, in the next room, took a second knock but then emerged almost immediately, already dressed in workout clothes.

"Morning run?" Seonghwa asked as Jongho greeted you with a polite bow.

"Just some quick exercises," Jongho replied. "Good morning, Y/n-noona. Ready for your first day?"

The honorific caught you by surprise—you had forgotten you were only a little older than him. "As ready as I'll ever be," you replied with a smile.

Yeosang proved to be a moderate challenge—requiring multiple knocks and some gentle coaxing, but eventually responding with a quiet acknowledgment.

When you reached Mingi's door, Seonghwa knocked firmly several times before calling his name. Just as he was about to knock again, the door swung open—revealing a sleepy-eyed Mingi wearing only low-hanging sweatpants, his broad chest and defined abs completely exposed.

Your eyes widened involuntarily, heat rushing to your cheeks as you found yourself momentarily frozen. The morning light from the hallway window highlighted the contours of his muscular torso, you could feel your omega stir before you quickly averted your gaze, focusing intently on the notepad in your hands.

"Hyung, I'm up, I'm—" Mingi's sleepy voice cut off abruptly as he registered your presence. "Oh! Y/n!"

You risked a glance up to see his eyes now fully alert, a deep flush spreading across his face as he hastily retreated into his room. He emerged seconds later wearing a hastily donned t-shirt, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and apology.

"I didn't realize you were... I mean, I thought it was just Seonghwa-hyung," he explained, running a hand through his impressively tousled hair. His sleepy smile was oddly endearing despite the awkward moment. "Sorry about that."

"No problem," you managed to say professionally, though you could still feel warmth in your cheeks. "We're just doing morning wake-up calls."

Hongjoong, who had witnessed the entire exchange from further down the hallway, cleared his throat softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Our new angel of organization," Mingi greeted you with exaggerated formality, clearly trying to move past the moment. His attempt at dignity was undermined by both his lingering blush and a massive yawn. "Please have mercy on us this morning."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension dissolving. "I'll consider it, since it's my first day."

San and Wooyoung, however, lived up to their reputation. Seonghwa knocked repeatedly on San's door with no response, finally opening it to reveal a room plunged in darkness by blackout curtains and a San-shaped lump buried under blankets.

"San-ah," Seonghwa called firmly. "Meeting at 9:00. You need to get up now."

A muffled groan emerged from the pile of bedding. "Five more minutes, hyung."

Seonghwa glanced at you with a look that clearly said, *See what I mean?* before approaching the bed. With practiced efficiency, he pulled back the curtains, allowing morning light to flood the room.

The reaction was immediate—San retreated further under the covers with a dramatic whine. "It burns!"

"It's just sunshine," Seonghwa replied drily. "Y/n is here to help with the morning routine. Don't make her first impression of you be this pitiful sight."

At the mention of your name, San's head emerged from the blankets, his hair sticking up at impossible angles but his eyes suddenly alert. "Y/n? Oh!" He sat up quickly, making a futile attempt to smooth his hair. "Good morning. I didn't realize... I'll be ready in ten minutes."

Hongjoong, who had been watching from the doorway, caught your eye with a knowing smirk. "Amazing how that works, isn't it?"

Wooyoung proved to be the final boss of the morning wake-up challenge. Not only did he fail to respond to knocks, calls, and light, but when Seonghwa finally managed to rouse him, he immediately tried to go back to sleep the moment Seonghwa turned his back.

"I've tried everything," Seonghwa confessed to you as Wooyoung's soft snores resumed behind him. "Short of dumping water on him, which I've been tempted to do more than once."

"Maybe I have an idea," you said, a sudden inspiration striking you. You stepped into the hallway and pulled out your phone, searching for something specific. When you found it, you returned to Wooyoung's doorway and pressed play.

The opening notes of ATEEZ's most recent title track filled the room at full volume. Almost immediately, Wooyoung's eyes flew open and he sat up.

"That's my part coming up!" he exclaimed, suddenly fully awake. When his brain caught up with reality and he realized what was happening, he stared at you in astonishment. "That was sneaky."

You shrugged, trying not to smile too broadly at your success. "But effective."

Seonghwa looked impressed. "Well, that's a new technique to add to our arsenal."

Wooyoung flopped back dramatically but kept his eyes open. "I feel betrayed by our new assistant already," he lamented, though his lips were twitching with suppressed laughter. "But I respect the strategy."

---

By 8:15 AM, all eight members were gathered in the kitchen, in various states of wakefulness but all dressed and fed thanks to Seonghwa's efficient breakfast preparation. You sat at the counter, reviewing the day's schedule with Hongjoong while the others ate.

"After the 9:00 AM meeting, you all have dance practice until noon," you recited, checking your notes. "Jongho has vocal training for an hour after that, a light lunch then the photoshoot for that clothing brand at 3:00 PM, dinner break, then the variety show filming begins at 8:00 PM."

Hongjoong nodded, looking impressed by your thorough grasp of their complex schedule. "That's right. And where will you be throughout all this?"

"Manager Minwoo suggested I shadow different members throughout the day to get a feel for the activities," you explained. "Starting with him at the morning meeting."

"Good plan," Hongjoong approved. "Just don't let Wooyoung convince you to skip anything to get bubble tea instead."

From across the kitchen, Wooyoung protested through a mouthful of eggs. "I would never!"

"You tried four times last month alone," Seonghwa corrected, setting down a plate of additional toast in the center of the table.

The easy banter continued as breakfast wrapped up. You observed the dynamics carefully, noting who needed reminders to eat (Yeosang, who seemed easily distracted), who might need extra time to get ready (Wooyoung, obviously), and who could be counted on to help maintain order (Seonghwa and Jongho).

By 8:30, everyone was loading into the two company vans that had arrived to transport you all to KQ Entertainment. You found yourself in the second van with Yunho, San, Wooyoung, and Jongho, while Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang, and Mingi took the first.

"So, Y/n," Yunho began conversationally as the van pulled away from the house, "Are you ready for today? Nervous at all?”

You considered Yunho's question thoughtfully. "I’m excited. I like environments where things are always changing," you replied. "And I enjoy supporting creative people—helping build the structure that allows their talents to shine."

San, who had claimed the seat beside you, nodded appreciatively. "That's a good way of looking at it. Our last assistant was good, but he always seemed stressed by the unpredictability."

"That's because Wooyoung kept changing plans without telling him," Jongho pointed out from the front passenger seat.

Wooyoung clutched his chest in mock offense. "Why am I being attacked this morning? I'm an absolute delight to work with."

The driver, who had clearly been with them for some time, coughed in a way that sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh.

"You'll see," Yunho told you with a grin. "Working with us is never boring, that's for sure."

"I look forward to the challenge," you replied with a smile, genuinely meaning it. Despite the complexity of the schedule and the unique personalities you'd be managing, there was something exciting about the prospect.

San studied your face with curious intensity. "You really aren't intimidated, are you? Most people would be nervous about suddenly being responsible for eight alphas' schedules."

You shrugged, careful to keep your expression neutral. "I've worked with artist management before. The key is treating everyone as individuals first, rather than focusing on status."

"Smart," Jongho commented approvingly. "Though I should warn you, during comeback preparations, all of us can get a bit... intense."

"Especially Hongjoong-hyung," Wooyoung added. "He barely sleeps during production periods."

You filed this information away for future reference. "I'll keep that in mind. Any other warnings I should know about?"

What followed was an enthusiastic rundown of member quirks that you suspected was equal parts helpful and exaggerated. According to Wooyoung, San became "clingy like a koala" when tired, Yunho stress-ate chocolate cookies before performances, and Yeosang sometimes disappeared for hours when he needed alone time.

“And Mingi?” You asked hesitantly, not wanting to seem too eager. Your omega seemed surprisingly interested in the alpha.

Yunho’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Ah, Mingi-ah. He’s actually the most affectionate of all of us, believe it or not. Super tactile—loves hugs and casual touches, especially when he’s comfortable with someone.” He leaned forward slightly, dropping his voice. “But he’s also really conscious of his alpha energy, so he tries to tone it down around new people.“

“He composes in the middle of the night,” San added. “You might hear him pacing sometimes—when he gets a melody stuck in his head, he can’t sleep until he works it out.”

“And he’s weirdly sensitive about his cooking,” Wooyoung chimed in with a grin. “He tries so hard but somehow always manages to burn something. Never criticize his food unless you want to see a six-foot-tall alpha pout for days.”

“Don’t believe everything they tell you,” Jongho advised from the front seat, though he was smiling. “They exaggerate.”

By the time you arrived at the company building, you were laughing and mentally cataloging all these insights, already feeling more equipped to navigate your new role.

---

The morning meeting at KQ Entertainment was your first glimpse into the professional side of ATEEZ's world. The conference room held not only the eight members but also Manager Minwoo, several production staff, the company's PR director, and two choreographers. You sat beside Minwoo, taking detailed notes as various topics were discussed—the upcoming comeback timeline, concept direction, individual schedules, and potential international appearances.

You noticed how the dynamics shifted in this professional setting. Hongjoong took the lead in most discussions, his leader role clearly established, while Seonghwa offered thoughtful input on logistics. The others contributed when their areas of expertise were relevant—Yunho on dance elements, Mingi and Hongjoong on production aspects, Jongho on vocal arrangements.

"And we've added Y/n L/n to our team as the new group assistant," Minwoo announced toward the end of the meeting, gesturing to you. "She'll be handling coordination between departments and managing the members' schedules going forward."

All eyes turned to you, and you straightened slightly, offering a professional smile. "I look forward to working with everyone to support ATEEZ's activities," you said, your voice clear and confident despite the sudden attention.

The PR director, a sharp-eyed woman named Director Kang, assessed you with interest. "Good timing. With the comeback and world tour planning underway, we needed someone to keep these eight in line." Her tone was strict but her eyes held a hint of warmth.

"I'm up for the challenge," you assured her, earning approving nods from several staff members.

As the meeting concluded, people began filtering out of the room. Minwoo hung back with you, providing additional context for some of the discussions.

"You'll be joining them at dance practice," he explained, consulting his tablet. "Then the photoshoot. I've arranged for you to mainly observe the activities today to get a comprehensive view of their schedules."

You nodded, gathering your notes. "That sounds perfect. I appreciate the thorough onboarding."

"You seem to be adjusting well already," Minwoo observed. "Usually new staff are overwhelmed by day one."

"I'm sure I'll have my moments," you admitted with a small smile. "But I work best when jumping right in."

Minwoo appeared satisfied with your response. "Good attitude. That's why Hongjoong was so confident about hiring you." He glanced at his watch. "The dance studio is on the third floor. The others should be heading there now."

---

The dance studio was a large space with mirrored walls and polished floors, already filled with alpha energy as they all warmed up under the choreographer's guidance. You slipped inside quietly, taking a seat against the wall where you could observe without being in the way.

Wooyoung spotted you immediately, waving enthusiastically mid-stretch. "Y/n! Come to witness greatness?"

The choreographer, who introduced himself as Hyunwoo, nodded acknowledgment in your direction. "You're the new assistant? Good. Maybe you can help keep them focused. Especially that one." He pointed at Wooyoung, who grinned unrepentantly.

"I'll do my best," you promised, settling in to watch.

What followed was a revelation. The playful, sometimes chaotic energy you'd witnessed at the house transformed into laser-focused precision as soon as the music started. Yunho's tall frame moved with surprising grace and power, while San's performance exuded an intensity that seemed at odds with his usually gentle demeanor. Even Wooyoung, for all his morning resistance, executed complex movements with sharp accuracy.

You found yourself captivated by their dedication, the way they repeated sequences without complaint, fine-tuning details most people would never notice. When they paused for water after forty-five minutes of continuous practice, all three were breathing hard but immediately discussing improvements.

"The transition after the bridge needs to be tighter," Yunho was saying, demonstrating a subtle adjustment to his movement.

San nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. "And I think we're slightly off-beat during the chorus formation change."

"How are you finding it?" Wooyoung asked, suddenly appearing beside you with a water bottle in hand. "Boring? Amazing? Both?"

"Impressive," you replied honestly. "The difference between your practice mode and casual mode is striking."

Wooyoung beamed at the compliment. "We're professionals. Don't let the breakfast chaos fool you."

"I'm starting to see that," you acknowledged with a smile.

The choreographer called them back, and Wooyoung rejoined the others. You continued watching, occasionally making notes about potential schedule considerations—the physical intensity meant they would need adequate recovery time, proper meals, and possibly physiotherapy sessions during heavy practice periods.

By the time practice ended at, you had a new appreciation for the physical demands of their work. As they gathered their things, you approached with towels you'd noticed stacked by the door, offering one to each.

t's the small things, you reminded yourself.

"Thanks," Hongjoong said, accepting the towel gratefully. His eyes held appreciation that seemed to extend beyond the simple gesture. "How are you finding everything so far?"

"Informative," you replied. "And impressive. You all work incredibly hard."

Something like pride flashed across his face. "We try. This is just a regular practice day—comeback preparation gets much more intense."

"I'll be prepared," you assured him, already mentally adjusting your expectations of what "intense" might look like in their world.

---

The afternoon brought a change of pace with the photoshoot for a clothing brand. While the morning had been relatively structured with the meeting and practice, the photoshoot at an industrial warehouse-turned-studio was more chaotic, with multiple staff buzzing around, stylists fussing over outfits, and makeup artists working on touch-ups between shots.

You found your place quickly, liaising between the photography director and the members, keeping track of shot lists, and ensuring everyone stayed on schedule. It was the kind of organized chaos you excelled in navigating—anticipating needs before they arose and solving small problems before they became larger ones.

"Water?" you offered to Yeosang after he finished his individual shots, noting how he'd been under the hot lights for nearly forty minutes.

He accepted with a small but genuine smile. "Thank you. You're very observant."

"Part of the job," you replied, though his quiet acknowledgment was satisfying.

When the photography director suggested the set rotation order be changed, you smoothly coordinated with the styling team to ensure outfits were ready in the new sequence, preventing what could have been a thirty-minute delay.

"I'm impressed," Manager Minwoo commented, appearing beside you as you updated the schedule notation on your tablet. "You've found your rhythm quickly."

"It helps that they're professionals," you said, gesturing toward the members who were all focused on their tasks despite the long day.

"Don't sell yourself short," Minwoo countered. "Not everyone can keep track of eight different personalities and all these moving parts on day one."

You smiled, accepting the compliment with a nod. "Thank you. I'm enjoying the challenge."

As the group shots began, you found yourself watching the dynamics with growing familiarity. Seonghwa quietly adjusted Wooyoung's collar when the stylist was busy elsewhere. Hongjoong subtly directed the others with small gestures, ensuring everyone was positioned optimally. Jongho maintained his serious expression until San whispered something that made him break into a reluctant smile, immediately lightening the mood for everyone.

When the photographer called for a brief set change, Mingi approached where you were reviewing notes beside the monitor.

"How's your first day going?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture you were beginning to recognize as a habit when he felt slightly uncertain.

"It's going well," you replied with a smile. "Just trying to absorb all the information."

"You seem like you've been doing this for years already," he said, and there was genuine admiration in his voice. "Usually new staff look overwhelmed by now, but you're just... handling everything."

You felt a small flush of pleasure at his observation. "That's kind of you to say. I'm sure I'll make plenty of mistakes as I learn the ropes."

"We all do," Mingi shrugged, then lowered his voice conspirationally. "Sorry again about this morning, by the way. Not exactly the most professional second impression."

You couldn't help the slight color that rose to your cheeks at the memory of him shirtless in the doorway. "It's fine. Occupational hazard of living and working in the same space, I suppose."

Mingi's smile widened, a hint of unexpected confidence breaking through his earlier uncertainty. "Next time I'll try to be more properly dressed. Or not. Depends on whether you enjoyed the view."

The teasing comment caught you off guard, and you felt your blush deepen. Before you could formulate a response that maintained professional boundaries while acknowledging the light flirtation, the photography director called Mingi back for the next shot.

Mingi winked at you before turning away, leaving you slightly flustered but with a small smile tugging at your lips despite your efforts to remain composed. The brief interaction had sparked something warm in your chest that you quickly tried to suppress. He was your colleague, one of your eight alpha employers. Lines needed to be clear.

Yet as you watched him return to the set, moving with easy confidence into the next pose, you couldn't quite ignore the subtle pull you felt toward him—similar to, yet somehow distinct from, what you'd experienced with each of the other members.

---

"Dinner in twenty minutes!" The production assistant announced as the photoshoot finally wrapped up. "Please be ready to move to the variety show filming after you eat."

You checked your watch—nearly 7:00 PM. The photoshoot had run almost an hour over schedule, cutting into the dinner break before the variety show filming. Anticipating potential issues, you approached the catering table where staff were setting up food.

"Excuse me," you said politely to the head caterer. "Is it possible to have some food boxed separately? The members might need to eat while getting ready for the next schedule since we're running behind."

The caterer nodded, appreciating your foresight. "No problem. We can prepare eight boxes."

"Thank you," you said gratefully, then turned to find Manager Minwoo, who was conferring with the production team. "Minwoo-ssi, I've arranged for boxed meals in case we need to eat during transport or makeup."

He looked up from his tablet with an approving nod. "Good thinking. The variety show PD just called—they're ready for us whenever we arrive, but they can't delay the start time past 8:15."

"I'll let the members know we're on a tight schedule," you offered, already moving toward where most of them were gathered, removing microphones and thanking the photography staff.

Seonghwa noticed your approach and the slight furrow in your brow. "Schedule adjustment?"

"We're running a bit tight for the variety show," you confirmed. "I've arranged boxed meals in case we need to eat on the go."

Hongjoong, who had overheard, nodded gratefully. "Smart move. Let's gather everyone and head out as soon as possible."

Within fifteen minutes, you had all eight members, their necessary belongings, and the boxed meals loaded into the vans. As you settled into your seat, Yunho passed you one of the food boxes.

"You need to eat too," he said kindly. "First days are exhausting."

You accepted with a grateful smile, suddenly realizing how hungry you were. The day had been so busy you'd barely registered your own needs.

"Thank you," you said, opening the box to find a appetizing meal inside. "I hadn't even thought about it."

"We noticed," San said from beside you. "You've been making sure everyone else is taken care of all day."

"That's literally my job," you pointed out with a small laugh.

"Still," Wooyoung interjected from the seat ahead, turning around to face you. "The good assistants remember their own needs too. Can't help us if you collapse from hunger."

The concern, though delivered with Wooyoung's characteristic dramatics, was genuine. You felt a strange warmth at the realization that they had been watching out for you even as you tried to take care of them.

"I'll keep that in mind," you promised, taking a bite of the food.

---

As the van slowed in traffic, you finished your meal and carefully packed away the empty container. The day's events were catching up with you—not exhaustion exactly, but a pleasant fatigue that came from a day well spent. You shifted slightly in your seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, when you became aware of Hongjoong's proximity beside you.

He had claimed the seat next to you when they'd rearranged for the evening trip, and now in the dim interior lighting of the van, you were acutely conscious of the subtle warmth radiating from his body. His arm rested along the back of the seat, not quite touching you but close enough that you could feel his presence like a magnetic pull. Even without being able to detect his scent through your blocker, something about his proximity made your omega instincts hum with an inexplicable sense of comfort and rightness.

"How are you holding up?" Hongjoong asked quietly, his voice pitched low enough that it wouldn't disturb the others. Wooyoung had dozed off in the seat ahead, and San was absorbed in his phone beside him.

"Better than I expected," you admitted, turning slightly to face him. The movement brought you closer, and you found yourself studying his profile in the passing streetlights. "It's been a good day."

"I'm glad," he said, and something in his tone made you look at him more carefully. His dark eyes held an intensity that seemed at odds with the casual conversation. "You've impressed everyone today. Manager Minwoo, the staff, the members..."

"And you?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, more personal than you'd intended.

Hongjoong's gaze met yours directly, and for a moment the space between you seemed charged with something unspoken. "Especially me," he said softly.

The van hit a pothole, jostling everyone slightly. Instinctively, Hongjoong's hand moved to steady you, his palm landing gently on your arm just above your elbow. The touch was brief, professional even, but neither of you moved away immediately.

"Sorry," he murmured, though his hand remained where it was, his thumb unconsciously brushing against the fabric of your shirt. "These streets are terrible."

"It's fine," you managed, hyper-aware of the warmth of his palm against your arm. The simple contact sent an unexpected flutter through your chest, and you found yourself fighting the urge to lean into the touch.

You should pull away, maintain professional boundaries. But something about the quiet intimacy of the moment—the dim lighting, the gentle rumble of the van, the way Hongjoong was looking at you like you were something precious and unexpected—made you hesitate.

"Y/n," he said quietly, and your name on his lips sounded different somehow. More personal. His hand slid down slightly, fingers curling around your wrist in a gesture that could have been casual but felt anything but. "I know today was a lot. New job, new living situation, eight new personalities to manage..."

His thumb found your pulse point, whether intentionally or not, and you wondered if he could feel how your heart rate had picked up at his touch.

"I want you to know that if you ever feel overwhelmed, or if any of us make you uncomfortable in any way, you can talk to me," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of his alpha authority but also something softer. "Your well-being matters to me. To all of us."

The sincerity in his words, combined with the gentle pressure of his fingers against your wrist, made your breath catch slightly. "Thank you," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "That... that means a lot."

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other. The space between you seemed to shrink, and you became aware of every detail—the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the subtle flecks of gold in his brown eyes, the way his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something more.

The van began to slow, and the bright lights of the variety show studio came into view through the windows. The moment of privacy was ending, and you both seemed to realize it simultaneously.

Hongjoong's hand reluctantly released your wrist, his fingers trailing across your skin for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. "We're here," he said unnecessarily, his voice slightly rougher than before.

"Right," you agreed, though you made no immediate move to gather your things.

As the van came to a complete stop and the others began stirring, preparing for the next part of their schedule, Hongjoong leaned slightly closer to you one more time.

"Welcome to the team, Y/n," he said quietly, his breath warm against your ear. "I have a feeling you're going to fit in perfectly."

The words sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the evening air, and as you finally moved to collect your belongings, you found yourself wondering if the "team" he was referring to meant something more than just professional colleagues.

The van doors opened, letting in the cool night air and the excited chatter of waiting fans, effectively breaking the spell. But as you stepped out into the bright lights of the studio entrance, you could still feel the ghost of Hongjoong's touch on your wrist, and the memory of his words echoed in your mind.

Whatever this job would bring, you were beginning to suspect it would be far more complicated—and far more interesting—than you had ever imagined.

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littlebluebird2000 · 2 months ago

Text

Twirling Hearts- part 3

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates…

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. changed up the cover because i felt like it :)

word count: 7k+

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :(

part : 1. , 2. , 3. , 4., 5

The stage lights dimmed, and your final pose held steady as the music faded. The applause were thunderous, echoing in your chest like a second heartbeat. You were breathless, but not just from the dance—from the rush of finally performing the piece you’d poured everything into.

Backstage, the adrenaline still buzzed through your veins as you pulled off your pointe shoes and smoothed your hair back. When you stepped out into the hallway, your friends were already there—Baku and Gotak cheering loudly, Juntae clapping with a smile, and Sieun… standing a little apart. His hands are in the pockets of his dark jacket, his posture calm, his hair a little messy like he’s been fidgeting with it.

"You were incredible," Juntae said kindly, when you approached.

"Like, no kidding. You were floating!" Gotak added, eyes wide. “Not to be rude, but I never thought I would enjoy a ballet.” You thanked them, laughing a little bit, feeling flushed and grateful.

Baku handed you a bouquet, wrapped in pastel tissue paper. It came from all of them.

“You absolutely killed it, Y/N! That one spin—you know the one—crazy.” You smiled.

You glance toward Sieun, half expecting him to look away like he usually might, but he doesn’t. His gaze stays on you, steady and unreadable, and it makes your stomach twist in a way you’re not prepared for. You suddenly feel shy, clutching the flowers in your hands a little tighter. “You were… really good.” He finally said.

You raise a brow, teasing. “Just really good?”

There’s the smallest shift in his mouth. Not quite a smile, but the kind of expression that says more than it shows. His eyes sparkled a little bit. Happiness. “You looked like you belonged up there.” He added softly.

You could feel your heart tug at the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you.”

He gives a slight nod, but his eyes stay on yours for a beat longer, something warm and unreadable in them. He then glanced away, his hand rising to the back of his neck as if he could rub away the tension building there.

Behind you, Baku makes a noise—something between a groan and a laugh. While the others broke into light chatter again, he leaned close to your ear, his voice low and amused. “He didn’t say much.” He whispered, “But he watched the whole thing like he was afraid to blink. Wouldn’t stop staring. His face was red for half the performance.”

You turned your head to him, but Baku had already straightened up, grinning innocently like nothing had happened.

You glanced at Sieun again, who was now pretending to be distracted by the recital program in his hands. The tips of his ears were indeed pink. You smiled silently to yourself, celebrating this small victory.

You take a second to look at them—each one. The faces that showed up for you. The people who made this night feel less terrifying, less like a test, and more like something to be proud of. You didn’t know this kind of friendship was possible when you first walked into Eunjang. You weren’t looking for it. But it found you anyway—in small gestures, in loyalty, in shared moments like this.

A warmth spreads through your chest. Thank you, you think, but it’s not just for tonight. It’s for everything that’s brought you to this point. For them. For Sieun. And for the unexpected comfort you’ve found along the way.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The night air was bustling with energy as you step outside the theatre, the crowd from the performance spilling out onto the streets. The breeze ruffled your skirt and a shiver passed through you. Families gather, taking pictures, congratulating their children and loved ones, the laughter and chatter blending with the hum of voices.

"Y/N." Juntae’s voice cuts through the noise, and you turn to see him looking around. "Where are your parents? They didn’t come?" The question is casual, like he’s just making conversation, but you feel that familiar twist in your stomach.

“They couldn’t make it tonight.” You said. There was a pause, the kind that usually came with sympathy or concern, but you spoke again before anyone could offer it. “I’m not upset or anything.” You added, adjusting the bouquet in your arms. “It was actually kind of nice. Less pressure.”

Sieun didn’t say anything, but something flickered across his face. It was understanding.

Baku clapped a hand on your shoulder, light and casual. ��Their loss. You were amazing.”

“I was thinking… If you guys aren’t busy, do you want to come over at my place? Just to hangout?” You said, casually.

Baku lit up. “Yeah, I’m in—”

Then his eyes cut to Sieun.

He blinked once. And then—

“Oh… wait.”

It was tiny, the shift in his voice—but it was there. His posture changed. His tone got lighter. Too casual. Sieun caught it instantly. His jaw ticked. He turned slowly to look at Baku with a deadpan face.

Baku threw an arm around Juntae’s shoulders. “We can’t go. We have something planned.”

Juntae blinked. “We do?”

Baku tightened his grip. “ You know—the thing. We’ve got that super important thing.”

Gotak looked confused. “Uh? What thing?”

“The thing,” Baku repeated, giving Juntae a look that screamed please say something.

Juntae nodded too hard. “Yeah, totally. That big group… uh… charity assignment.”

Sieun exhaled through his nose.

Gotak frowned. “Charity assignment?”

“Yeah, we’re giving… our time,” Juntae said, clearly making it up as he went.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Sieun didn’t say anything. He only rolled his eyes—barely, but it was there—and looked away like this entire conversation was physically hurting him.

“Volunteering? At 9PM? On a Friday night?” You asked, eyes narrowing.

Baku’s smile twitched. “Yeah. It’s a… night shift.”

Gotak looked between them, puzzled. “Wait, are you including me in that? I didn’t sign up for anything.”

Baku smiled brightly. “You did, actually.”

“Uh?”

“You volunteered.” Baku added. “Last week.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Well, you did.” Baku said firmly.

Gotak frowned. “I just wanted to go to Y/N’s.”

“And that’s noble,” Baku said, already guiding him away. “But the community need you more.”

Juntae gave a little wave and the three of them disappeared down the sidewalk. Gotak’s confused protests faded with distance.

Sieun didn’t look at you. He was still staring in the direction they’d gone, expressionless. “He thinks he’s clever.”

You smiled, a little amused, a little shy. “But you’re still coming over, right?”

He finally looked at you. “Of course.”

You nodded once, small and sure. “Good.”

You smile softly, a sense of relief washing over you at his words. The tension between you both seems to ease, just a little. Sieun follows beside you, the quiet between you both comfortable now. His presence, as always, is calming, but there’s something different tonight. A softness in the way he walks, in the way he occasionally glances at you from the corner of his eye.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The apartment was dimly lit, washed in the soft gold of a standing lamp in the corner. You kicked off your shoes and set the bouquet down on the kitchen counter, glancing back to see Sieun still lingering at the doorway, hands in his pockets, his gaze cautious as it swept over the space.

“Make yourself at home,” you said, offering a small smile as you padded toward the kitchen. “It’s a bit messy. I didn’t really have time to clean before the performance.”

“It’s fine.” he said, stepping inside.

You rose onto the tip of your toes, fingers grazing the top shelf of the cabinet as you searched for a vase. Nothing. Just an empty row of mugs and glasses. After a pause, you reached for a clear pitcher instead. “I should get these in water quickly.” You said, voice low as you filled the jug at the sink. The water rushed quietly, echoing in the silence between you. You carefully loosened the wrapping around the stems and arranged the bouquet in the pitcher, your fingers brushing across the soft petals.

When you turned around, Sieun was standing in the middle of the room, looking out of place but oddly endearing, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Want to sit?” You offered, gesturing to the couch.

He gave a small nod and walked over, settling stiffly at the far end. You poured two glasses of water and joined him, setting them down on the table between you. A quiet moment stretched, neither of you speaking.

“You’re really okay with your parents not coming?” He asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yes… and no.” You said honestly. You turned toward him, leaning your elbow on the backrest. “I’m sad they didn’t make the effort.. I’m angry, too. I fought so hard to get into this ballet academy—because my mom wanted it so badly—and now she doesn’t even bother to show up. Not even a good luck text.” You exhaled. “But in a weird way, I’m glad. I didn’t have their pressure hanging over me. I could just focus on the performance. So yeah… I was sad, but I wasn’t at the same time… If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” He said quietly. He hesitated, then asked, “Do you even like dancing?”

“Lucky for Mom, I do.” You gave a small laugh. “Not as obsessively as she’d like, but yeah—I love it.”

“Well,” He began, visibly swallowing. “You’re… really good at it.” His voice was soft, almost flat, but underneath it was something uncertain.

“Oh. Thank you.” You blinked, surprised by the sudden compliment. You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“You looked…” His voice drifted, and he stopped. His hands tightened slightly on his knees.

You glanced at him. His face was half-shadowed in the lamplight, jaw tense with a subtle flicker of nerves.

“It’s okay,” You said gently. “You can say it. I won’t laugh.”

“Pretty.” He murmured, barely louder than a breath. “Really pretty.”

Your breath caught. You smiled down for a moment, then looked up at him, heart fluttering.

“You’re sweet.” You said , the words slipping out more quietly than you meant them to. You smiled shyly, eyes lowering as warmth crept into your cheeks.

He blinked. “Me? Sweet?”

There was no sarcasm in his voice—just genuine confusion, like it wasn’t something he’d ever considered. “No one’s ever called me that.”

You looked up at him, eyes warm, a quiet fondness in your expression. “Maybe they just don’t know you that well.”

For a moment, you hesitated. Then—quietly, deliberately—you scooted closer, closing the space between you by just a few inches. It wasn’t much, but it felt like everything.

Sieun’s breath hitched. You noticed the way his spine stiffened, then relaxed again, like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden closeness. His eyes flicked down, then back up—searching your face, uncertain but not pulling away.

Your knees nearly touched.

You could feel his warmth now, that quiet, steady presence of him. His hand shifted slightly on his knee, fingers twitching like he almost wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, teasing, but only a little. You didn’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but you were glad for it at the moment.

His eyes flicked to yours. “A little,” He admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “You make me nervous.”

You smiled—shy, surprised, and something more. “Good,” you said. “You make me nervous too.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose, the sound enough to make your pulse race. You glanced down at his hand, still curled tensely on his knee, the tips of his fingers twitching.

Carefully, you let your hand slide just slightly—until your pinky brushed against his. Just a touch. Barely there. He froze. His fingers were cold and a little stiff at first, but they didn’t pull away. You held your breath, unsure if you’d gone too far—but then, slowly, his fingers slid into yours—tentative, clumsy, like he was afraid he might do it wrong. His hand was warm, just a little shaky, and he held on like he didn’t quite believe it was happening.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” You said quietly.

His voice was even softer. “Me too.”

Sieun still hadn’t looked away. He was holding your gaze now, like he was finally letting you see all the things he’d kept locked behind silence. But even now, you could feel it—he was holding back. Not because he didn’t want to move closer, but because he was scared to cross that invisible line.

Slowly, you leaned in, just enough for him to feel your breath. His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull back.

"I know you won’t do anything unless I do it first." You said quietly, voice low and steady, though your heart was pounding like crazy. A small, daring smile tugged at your lips. “So I’ll go first.”

Sieun stared at you — frozen, wide-eyed, like the words knocked the air right out of him. His fingers twitched beneath your hold, and for a split second, he looked like he might run.

So you leaned in before he could.

The space between you disappeared with the soundless rush of a breath, your eyes locking with his until your nose brushed his, until you could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

You kissed him.

Your lips met his—softly. Carefully. You barely pressed into it, just enough to feel the warmth of his mouth, the uncertainty trembling through him. He was motionless at first, tense as stone, and then…

He kissed you back.

Harder than you expected. Hungrier. Like something inside him had snapped and he couldn’t hold it in anymore. His hand slid up to cup your cheek, fingers trembling, thumb brushing just below your eye as if to make sure you were real. His other hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, like he didn’t care if he breathed again.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth, and he shivered.

When you finally pulled back, your chests were rising and falling fast, and his lips were red from the kiss — a little parted, like he couldn’t believe it.

Sieun swallowed. His voice came out rough and low. “I didn’t know it could be like that.” He whispered, eyes closed.

And then you kissed him again— slower this time, more deliberate. You wanted him to feel it. To understand without words just how long you had been holding this back.

Sieun responded with the same quiet desperation, his lips softer now, more careful, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. His hand slid to your shoulder, anchoring himself to the moment. His touch was shaky, uncertain — but you felt the way his body leaned into yours.

You parted your lips slightly, and Sieun froze — just for a beat — before following your lead. His breath caught, and a quiet sound escaped him, somewhere between a sigh and a low groan, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. It stirred something in you.

You pulled him closer, your hand curling into the back of his sweatshirt. The kiss deepened, heat blooming between you, and for a moment, nothing else existed. Just the hush of breath, the pulse in your ears, and the way Sieun tasted like something new and dangerous and addictive.

You finally broke apart to breathe, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing hard, there was a quiet pause.

The next kiss wasn’t rushed. It unfolded like something inevitable — slow and simmering, deepening with each passing second. Your hands found his face again, your thumbs brushing the edge of his cheekbones as his lips moved with growing confidence against yours. There was a hunger in him now, restrained but real, like he’d been holding back for too long and finally allowed himself to want.

Sieun’s hand slipped to your waist, hesitant at first, then firmer as he pulled you closer.

When your fingers slid into his hair, his breath hitched. That small sound — vulnerable, unguarded — made your pulse quicken. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, feeling him melt into it with you.

“You’re shaking.” You whispered.

He looked dazed, a faint blush spreading across his skin. ‘I… don’t know what I’m doing.” He said, voice low.

You brushed a strand of hair away from his face, revealing his forehead. ‘Me neither.’ You said softly. ‘But this… it feels right.’

A pause.

“You don’t have to hold back, you know.” You whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words hung in the space between you like a challenge, a quiet invitation. Sieun’s eyes darkened for the briefest moment, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. His hand now rested at the small of your back, pressing you to his side.

“Are you sure…?” he whispered, the words coming out rougher than he intended.

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet but steady. “I’m sure.” For a brief moment, his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark intense. A pulse of heat shot through you at the weight of it, and before you could even register what was happening, he leaned in.

It was clumsy, but there was something urgent in it. It was desperate, consuming. His lips were bruising, demanding, but you welcomed it. You couldn’t get enough of him. His tongue slipped past your lips, exploring, testing, as if he were tasting something he’d been craving for too long. He was fully in it now, giving himself over to the intensity of the moment.

His hands down your back were pulling you closer, his fingers dug into your skin. Sieun’s hands moved up to your waist, lifting you slightly as he pulled you fully on his lap, closer, straddling him. Your skirt wrinkled up and the couch creaked slightly beneath your shifting weight.

A quiet sound slipped from your lips as his hands moved lower, fingers skimming the bare skin of your thighs. His mouth left yours, trailing soft, lingering kisses down the curve of your neck. His breath was warm, unsteady, ghosting over your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch.

You felt the slightest tremble in his hands—not from hesitation, but from nerves he couldn’t quite hide. Each kiss sent a shiver down your spine, the combination of his uncertainty and growing desire making your chest tighten. His name left you in a whisper, barely audible.

Just as you were lost in the kiss, the ringing of your cellphone pierced the air, the shrill sound startling both of you. You pulled back for a moment, your breath heavy, your lips tingling from the kiss. The name on the screen made your heart skip a beat.

Baku.

Sieun’s eyes flickered down to your phone on the couch. A flicker of something dark passed across his face as he saw the name. You started to reach for your phone, but Sieun’s hand shot out to stop you. He took your wrist gently but firmly. His eyes locked onto yours, intense and full of quiet possessiveness. “Leave it.” He murmured, his voice low. It was holding a slight edge of something dangerous.

You froze for a moment, taken aback by the tone in his voice. His thumb gently brushed over your wrist as if trying to calm you, but his eyes never left yours. His breathing was still uneven, his chest rising and falling beneath you. You were caught between answering and staying in this moment, the tension between you palpable. What if it was important? But when you looked back at Sieun, his gaze told you everything. He wasn’t going to let you answer.

He leaned in again, kissing you, this time with an urgency that couldn’t be ignored. The phone’s ringing faded into the background, insignificant compared to the electric feeling of being so close to him, of being his. There was no hiding the desire in his eyes now, no pretending. You could feel the weight of him, his body reacting to yours, and it made your heart race.

With a slight movement, you shifted in his lap, your body brushing against his in just the right way, making you both moan. He let out a low breath, eyes closed, struggling to maintain control.

Sieun’s grip on your waist tightened as he pushed you down and help you rubbed yourself against himself, the friction of your bodies sending a rush of heat through both of you. His lips went back to yours.

You couldn’t help but gasp as the sensation hit you all at once, the feeling of being so close to him after so long, kissing him like this… “Y/N…” His voice was strained, thick with emotion. He was hard beneath you, his body reacting to yours in ways that made you melt.

His lips move to your jawline, then to your neck, and you gasps, tilting your head back to give him more access. It was all too much, but it felt so good. It felt right.

“Can you take it off?” Sieun asked, his voice low and breathless. “Just… that skirt—” He exhaled sharply, almost like it hurt to say. “It’s been driving me crazy.”

Without a word, you leaned back and reached for the zipper, easing it down slowly. The skirt slipped over your hips and slid down your legs in a soft rustle. You rose briefly on unsteady legs, letting it fall to the floor, forgotten. Then you returned to him, settling into his lap—your knees on either side of his thighs, arms wrapping gently around his shoulders, pulling him back into you.

A low groan escaped Sieun, your scent overwhelming every thought in his head. His hands settled instinctively on your hips, then lower, gripping and kneading the skin of your ass as you moved against him. From this angle, he had an unfiltered view of what had consumed his thoughts for weeks.

The thin fabric between you offered little cover—his gaze lingered, hungry and stunned, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

Then his mouth was on yours again, harder this time—needy, desperate.

A gasp escaped you as another wave of pleasure washed over you, your head instinctively tilting to rest against Sieun’s neck, your breath warm and unsteady against his skin. “Oh, Sieun…” You whimpered, your voice barely a breath, almost lost in the heat of the moment. Your fingers clenched at his shirt, desperate, grounding yourself to him.

The air between you was thick with tension, each breath shared between you more uneven than the last. But then Sieun’s hands faltered, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with something more than just desire.

“Y/N, wait.” He breathed, his voice strained. “Please… slow down.” His eyes filled with a quiet intensity. It wasn’t hesitation, but a deeper longing, a desire to stretch this moment for as long as he could.

“I don’t want this to end too fast,” He whispered, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I want to make it last.”

He kissed you again, but slower this time, lips soft against yours, savoring each breath, each brush of skin. There was no rush now—just the quiet exchange of breaths and the gentle press of your bodies against one another, still moving, but slowly this time.

You followed his lead, your hands finding their way back to his shoulders, holding him close as the kiss deepened, but at a gentler pace. Every shift of his lips and hips felt like it was savoring the moment, the quiet pressure of his touch making your heart race. You stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, kissing until the world outside blurred away.

He groaned again, low in his throat. That sound — raw and unfiltered — sent a pulse of heat through you. You lifted your head a little bit, searching for his eyes. You couldn’t help but get lost in the soft intensity of his gaze.

"Your eyes... they're so beautiful." You whispered, breathless. His brow furrowed. “Everyone says they're scary... But I think they're beautiful." You leaned in just enough to press your forehead against his, heart pounding.

Something in him cracked at your words—like a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding suddenly gave way. He groaned, and his mouth found yours again, this time with more urgency. The kiss deepened, growing hungrier, more consuming, as though he needed to feel everything you were offering him.

His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you against him as your bodies moved in sync. The rhythm stayed steady, but the intensity built, slowly and surely—until it was all heat and quiet desperation. Sieun faltered slightly, his expression cracking under the weight of everything he was feeling.

Soft moans spilled between your mouths as you held onto each other, coming undone together in a moment that felt impossibly raw and real.

Your breath came in short, shallow pulls, mixing with his as you stayed tangled together, your bodies still pressed close. Sieun’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves. His arms were still locked around your waist, as if letting go too soon might undo what just happened. You felt the tremble in him—not fear, but something fragile and overwhelmed.

You stayed like that, wrapped around each other, breathless and dazed. Your hand found the back of his neck, fingers threading gently through his damp hair as your other arm draped across his shoulders.

Neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, you started to giggle.

Sieun lifted his head slightly, brow furrowing like he wasn’t sure what he missed. You bit your lip, trying to hold it in, but the laugh bubbled out again, soft and breathless.

“We skipped so many steps.” You murmured, eyes crinkling. “Like—ridiculously many.”

His confusion cracked into something looser, something warmer. And then he laughed—an actual laugh, low and unsteady at first, like he wasn’t used to it. You froze for a moment, surprised by the sound, your heart catching.

It was the first time you’d heard him laugh.

You stared, wide-eyed, something warm blooming in your chest. “Was that a laugh?”

He looked away, but there was the smallest smile on his lips. “Maybe.”

Your heart fluttered, and you pressed closer to him, both of you still breathless, but now wrapped in something quieter. Something safe.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The atmosphere was relaxed, but Baku couldn’t hide the grin plastered on his face.

As Gotak and Juntae casually went about their snacks and drinks, Baku’s eyes were glued to his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen as he checked for any missed notifications—particularly, the unanswered calls to Y/N.

When he saw there were still no replies, he let out a small laugh to himself, almost maniacal in its glee.

“Bro, what’s so funny?” Gotak asked, noticing Baku’s wide grin and the strange, almost gleeful energy radiating from him.

Baku didn't answer right away, instead scrolling through his phone one more time, his grin growing. He was clearly enjoying this.

“She didn’t pick up.” Baku said as an explanation, his voice unusually high-pitched with excitement.

Juntae, who had been quietly sipping his drink, raised an eyebrow, his confusion obvious. “So? It’s no big deal. She’s probably busy.”

Baku’s eyes flicked up to meet Juntae’s, the grin still wide on his face. “No, no, no, it’s a huge deal. She didn’t pick up...again.”

Gotak looked from Baku to Juntae, both equally confused, then turned back to Baku. “You’re acting weird. Why do you care so much? You’re acting like she hasn’t answered for a week.”

Baku laughed louder this time, almost too loud for the calm vibe of the table. “I don’t know, man. I just... I’m excited! She didn’t pick up and I think it’s a sign!”

Juntae and Gotak exchanged uncomfortable glances. Baku was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Sign of what?” Juntae asked cautiously, his tone skeptical. “That she’s busy?”

Baku’s grin didn’t falter as he leaned back in his chair, looking too pleased with himself. “No. It’s a sign that something’s happening between her and Sieun. I’m telling you, something’s going down between them.” He practically bounced in his seat, looking pleased with himself. “I knew it. They’ve been getting closer. My plan finally worked.”

Juntae raised an eyebrow, his face twisting in doubt. “I know you arranged tonight so they’d end up alone, but… Sieun? Are you sure about that? I mean, he’s been... well, distant with everyone.”

Baku’s grin didn’t fade. If anything, it grew. “Exactly! That’s why it’s so exciting. He’s not someone who just flirts with people, right? He’s been keeping it all to himself, but I can tell he’s totally into her! He acts different with her!“

He wasn’t about to tell them what Sieun had shared with him in confidence. That moment had meant something—Sieun had trusted him enough to say the kind of thing he never said out loud. Baku wasn’t going to break that.

Gotak snorted. “You’re talking like you’ve got a front-row seat to their love story.”

Baku laughed, nodding again. “I do! I’m not just their friend; I’m their matchmaker! I mean, come on, they’re practically perfect for each other. I knew from the start that this was going to happen. I just had to give them a little nudge.”

Baku leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin still on his face. He glanced at Gotak, who was still giving him a confused look. Baku couldn’t help but share just a little bit more of his excitement.

Gotak raised a brow. “What proof do you have , exactly? That she didn’t answer your call? You’re jumping to conclusions, Baku.”

Juntae nodded, quieter but equally skeptical. “Maybe her phone’s just on silent. Or she’s asleep.”

Baku scoffed, leaning forward now, eyes gleaming with something close to triumph. “Oh come on. You really think it’s just that? She hasn’t answered three calls. And she never ignores me. Not unless she’s… preoccupied.”

“Dude, you’re seriously making a whole story out of that?” Gotak said, shaking his head. “That’s not proof. That’s just your imagination going wild.”

Baku smirked, undeterred. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just good at reading people.”

“You?” Gotak said flatly.

“Alright,” Baku said, sitting up straighter. “Let’s make it interesting, then. I say something’s going on between Sieun and Y/N. If I’m right, you owe me fried chicken. If I’m wrong, I’ll cover lunch for a whole week.”

Gotak squinted at him. “You’re serious?”

��Dead serious.”

Juntae glanced between them, clearly amused but staying out of the challenge.

Gotak gave in with a shrug. “Fine. But if you’re wrong, I want extra fries.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft sizzle of eggs in the pan and the hum of the morning air. You moved slowly, still a little tired but warm, wrapped up in the oversized black hoodie you’d slipped on the moment you got out of bed. His hoodie. It smelled like him—clean, subtle, and something you couldn't quite name but always noticed when he was close. You’d always wanted to wear it, and now that it was on you, it felt like a secret hug even when he wasn’t around.

It was now Sunday. You had spent the whole weekend together.

Sieun had run back to his place yesterday morning to grab a few things, but the rest of the time, he stayed at yours. It felt safer that way. Fewer chances of being interrupted.

It had been awkward at first. He didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do—where to lie, how close was too close. His body had been stiff, his movements hesitant, like he was afraid of doing something wrong.

By the second night, things felt easier. He relaxed beside you, settling into the space you made for him. The way he curled toward you in his sleep, his breath soft against your shoulder… the way his fingers found yours in the dark, like it was second nature—it all felt strangely natural. It felt safe in his arms. Not just physically, but deeper than that. Like, for once, the world outside didn’t matter. You weren’t being judged or pressured. You were just… held.

You didn’t hear his footsteps, but you felt Sieun’s quiet presence suddenly behind you, his warmth pressing gently into your back.

Then, his arms wrapped around your waist.

Slow. Firm. Wordless.

You let out a small breath, your lips curving. “You’re awake.”

“Mhm.” His voice was husky, still laced with sleep, and it vibrated softly against your shoulder as he tucked his chin there.

“You stole it,” he murmured.

You tugged the hem shyly. “…I hope you don’t mind.” You said, watching his expression. “I’ve always kind of wanted to.”

Sieun didn’t say anything at first. His eyes dropped to the hoodie again, then flicked back to your face. He looked almost… soft.

“It suits you,” he said quietly.

Your heart stuttered. “I might not give it back, you know.”

His voice was calm, but there was a trace of fondness in it. “Then I’ll just steal one of yours.” You laughed, leaning more into him.

“I’m making breakfast.” You whispered, half turning your head toward him. He nodded only. He held you tighter for a second. His breath brushed your neck, his body curved around yours like he was trying to melt into you.

You turned in his arms, the warmth of his body still at your back as you faced him. He blinked, a little startled by the sudden movement, his hands instinctively resting at your sides.

Before he could say anything, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

It was soft—barely a moment—but it stole the breath right out of him.

His eyes widened, his entire body stiffening as if his brain was still trying to catch up. You could see the pink slowly rising in his cheeks, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You couldn’t help but grin as you watched the color bloom on his ears, his gaze stubbornly fixed to the side like the wall was suddenly fascinating.

“Your ears are red.” You said, trying not to laugh.

Sieun tensed. “No, they’re not.”

You stepped a little closer, tilting your head with mock curiosity. “They definitely are. You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.” He muttered, still not looking at you.

You leaned in, voice low and teasing. “It’s kind of cute… You weren’t this shy last night.”

You hadn’t gone all the way—nothing further than what had happened Friday night. But it was still good. Incredibly good.

That got him. His shoulders stiffened, and his eyes finally snapped to yours, wide with embarrassment. “Y-Yah—don’t say it like that.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted. “What? It’s true. You’re all serious and quiet again, but I remember how you looked when—”

Sieun clapped a hand gently over your mouth, face burning now. “Stop talking.” He whispered, voice tight but soft, like he didn’t know whether to be mortified or pull you closer again.

Turning back around, the smile still playing on your lips, you gently slid the freshly cooked egg onto the plate of kimchi fried rice, the soft sizzle filling the space between you.

Your phone buzzed again on the counter, Baku’s name lighting up the screen—his third call in the past hour. When you didn’t answer, it was Juntae’s turn to call.

You laughed quietly, the sound warm and lazy. “They really don’t give up, huh?”

Sieun, still hovering near you, glanced at the phone with a frown. You reached out and picked it up but didn’t answer right away.

“Can I answer them now?” You asked, turning to him with a soft smile. “They’ve been calling nonstop.”

Sieun looked at you for a long second—quiet, unreadable. Then, with a small exhale, he nodded, eyes flicking to the phone then away again.

“...Yeah.” He said quietly. “I guess we should let them know you’re not dead.”

You slid a plate onto the counter. “Here. Eat.”

He gave a small nod of thanks and slipped into the chair, his back now to you, already reaching for the food.

You swiped your finger across the screen and tapped the speaker button, bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unleash.

“Hello?” You answered, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Y/N?” Juntae’s voice came through, gentle and a bit uncertain. “Ah—sorry if I’m interrupting. Are you okay?” You could picture his furrowed brow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for not answering sooner. I just needed a quiet weekend.”

You smiled to yourself, glancing at Sieun, who was quietly eating across from you.

There was a pause on the other end, and then a muffled rustling sound before Juntae spoke again. “It’s been two days. We were starting to get a little worried.”

In the background, you heard Gotak’s familiar, booming voice: “Tell her we thought she got kidnapped!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “I’m fine.” You said. “I promise.”

Juntae, sounding slightly relieved, murmured, “Okay. That’s… good.”

Then Baku shouted again, “Ask her if Sieun’s still alive too!”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips. You kept your gaze on Sieun. He didn’t say anything, didn’t turn around, but you noticed the slight pause in his movements, the way his shoulders stiffened just enough to give him away.

“Sieun’s not here.” You said nonchalantly, eyes still on his back. “It’s just me.”

“Give me the phone! She’s lying.”

Your eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Baku fired back. “You’re lying through your teeth. Sieun’s there with you, isn’t he?”

Sieun still hadn’t turned around, but his fork hovered in mid-air for a second too long before he resumed eating, just a bit more slowly than before.

“Nope.” You said sweetly. “Just little ol’ me.”

Baku huffed. “Right. And what about the fact Sieun’s been MIA too, huh? He’s not answering his phone either. That’s way too convenient.”

You suppressed a grin. “Maybe he’s tired of you too.”

“Or maybe,” Baku continued smoothly, “He’s lying in your bed right now.”

You’re eyes widened in shocked amusement. “Wow. Jumping to conclusions, aren’t we?”

There was a pause, then his voice took on a slightly smoother edge. “You know, Y/N… your ballet performance? You were… kind of stunning. Not just the dancing. The way you looked on stage—man. It was something else.”

You blinked confused at the sudden change of conversation. “Uhm, thank you? I guess.” You replied, unsure if he was serious or just trying to throw Sieun off…

“I keep thinking about that dress you wore for the performance.” He added, teasing now.

Okay definitely the later…

Sieun didn’t say a word, but you saw it—the way his shoulders tightened slightly

“That white one,” Baku went on. “It hugged your body just right. Every turn, every step you took… it was impossible not to notice.”

You cleared your throat, your cheeks warming. “Baku.” You said, tone edged with warning.

“And the way the fabric shimmered under the spotlight? It made your skin look like it was glowing. Your arms, your back—don’t even get me started on your legs.” Sieun rose from his chair—slowly, silently. He still didn’t look at you, but his movements were calm, deliberate.

“I'm just saying,” Baku purred. “When you stepped on that stage, I thought—‘she could ruin me and I’d say thank you.’”

That was the last Sieun’s last straw.

He stepped over, and without a word, took the phone gently from your hand. His fingers brushed yours—warm, steady.

When he spoke, his voice was low, almost bored. But his eyes—cold and sharp—told another story.

“You’re too loud.�� He said into the phone.

A beat of silence.

Then Baku’s voice erupted on the other end. “HA! I knew it! I told you, didn’t I? Now you can buy me—”

Beep.

Sieun pressed a button and ended the call with an emotionless flick of his thumb. He set the phone face down on the counter.

You turned to him, amused. “You didn’t like the compliments?”

“I didn’t like that they came from him.”

His eyes flicked to you and his gaze darkened slightly. “You looked better right now.” He said quietly, voice rough, “Hair still messy and in my shirt.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The next morning, you floated through the halls of the ballet academy with a lightness in your chest you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’d kissed Sieun before leaving—just a soft press of your lips to his cheek as he mumbled something half-asleep. He’d wrapped his arms around you in return, slow and warm, holding on like he didn’t want to let go. It made leaving harder… but also, somehow, easier.

You danced like the air carried you. Even your teacher noticed.

“Light on your feet today,” She said as you held a balance mid-turn. “Good energy. Keep that.”

You smiled through your breathing, heart warm. If only she knew why.

The sun had risen higher when you finally left the academy alone, bag slung over your shoulder, hair pulled into a quick bun. There was a small ache in your muscles that felt earned. The street was quiet at first—just a few parked scooters and the hum of traffic down the block.

Then you saw them.

A small group of men loitered near the academy’s entrance gate—older, rougher around the edges, their presence too still, too intentional. One of them stood out, dressed in an orange jacket, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily from his mouth as he stared down at his phone.

You felt it before he even looked up.

That drop in your stomach. That quiet instinctive alarm.

Then his head lifted. His eyes locked onto yours—and he smiled broadly.

But it wasn’t friendly. It was a grin stretched wide with some private joke you weren’t in on. Like he was already imagining something. Something you wouldn’t find funny at all.

“Hello, little ballerina.” He said, casual and amused. “Been meaning to talk to you.”

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bluebirdsfeathers · 5 months ago

Text

Her Intern

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Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summary: You get a look into what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Wanda’s temper, but she could never be mad at you.

Words: 1.3K

Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), mention of stocks, Yelling if that stresses you out.

A/N: Wanted this to be longer but I’m starting class again on Monday and I’ve had way more work to do than I thought. Hope you enjoy this. I’ve tagged everyone who asked, if you want to be tagged in the next chapter, let me know.

Inspiration

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

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The silence in the room made every minuet feel like an eternity. No one dared to speak. You could feel your pulse rise as the clock hand inched closer to the number nine. This morning you had gotten ready on auto piolet, showered and once again put on your wrinkled shirt. You hadn’t bothered investing in any new clothing since you began working with Pietro. The lack of dress code made you feel like it wasn’t necessary, so this was still your most professional shirt. It was the same one you’d worn your first day here, now you worried this would be your last.

Sleep hadn’t come fast last night. You’d stayed up for hours running possible situations and outcomes, planning what you’d say for each one in excruciating detail. But by the time morning came all those preparations were gone from your mind. The only thing you could focus on was the memory of Wanda catching you in her office.

She looked so angry.

You blinked away the sting in your eyes and nose, not wanting to cry, not now at least. That could wait till after the meeting, when you could lock yourself in the bathroom away from prying eyes.

The clock reached nine and the doors to the conference room flung open, Wanda entered leaving the door to slam shut behind her. Everyone in the room sat up straight and turned their attention to the red head, everyone but you. You couldn’t bring yourself to look, instead keeping your head down hoping the ground would swallow you whole.

“Good morning,” Wanda began as she retrieved some papers from her briefcase, “I know I’m taking you away from your work, but I wouldn’t have called this meeting if there wasn’t something important that needs to be discussed.” Her tone was polite, but anger was bubbling underneath. As she finished speaking her eyes scanned the room, eventually landing on you. Wanda faced twitched with annoyance at fact you weren’t looking at her. She cleared her throat before continuing. “Once I have everyone’s attention, I’ll tell you why you’re all here, or better why one of you isn’t.”

You took the hint and slowly raised your head, not expecting to find Wanda staring directly at you, stern eyes softening for a moment before hardening back over. Her words finally reached your brain, and you glanced quickly around table, the other interns seemingly doing the same.

Theo.

Theo wasn’t there. He hadn’t come in with Wanda, which was strange considering how he’d normally be following her around like a lost dog.

“I expect you to already know this, but Westview Paper is the most trusted news sources in the country,” Wanda paced at the front of the room, her voice and posture portraying nothing but power. “We take pride in being able to provide the American public with honest unbiased reporting. So what do you think might happen if an employee threatened that reputation?” She was now stood directly behind you; the room was so silent you could hear your heart as it raced.

“They would be fired.” The silence was broken by an intern sat across from you. Despite his suit probably being worth more than you all make a month, it fit him like a kid playing dress up in his dad's wardrobe, and he looked like he’d just been caught. Wanda let his words hang in the air for an uncomfortably long time.

“Yes, thank you Jake. They would be fired.” As Wanda moved back to the front of the room her fingers ghosted the nape of your neck, something so innocuous it could have easily been an accident. “Theo had gone behind my back, fed information about stories we were publishing to outsiders, and all to boost his stock portfolio.” Her voice dripped with distain. “He is no longer working here, in fact, he will no longer be working for any publisher this side of the Atlantic Ocean.” She gave her words time to breath, making sure we all understood the gravity of the situation. Your mind went back to yesterday, standing in her office when she came out angrily yelling down the phone, that’s what she was talking about.

“Now I called this meeting as a warning to all of you. You aren’t children anymore, this is the real world, your actions have consequences that go far beyond timeouts, or early bedtimes. So if any of you even think about trying anything that will tarnish the reputation of this organization, I want you to really consider what it means to throw your life away! A life that, I might add, for most in here was handed to them.” With every sentence her voice grew louder, the anger finally bubbling over as she slammed her fits onto the table. Wanda stood up straight and adjusted her blazer, "You may leave." Her word was final.

There was a mad scramble for the door as everyone collected their things and piled out the room.

“Y/n, I want to have a word with you.” Wanda called out with a lingering trace of rage. The other interns turned to look at you as you awkwardly shuffled back from the door. Your anxiety was already high and now you truly felt like you were going to combust. It took a moment for the room to clear but once it had, and the door closed you jumped into your apologies.

“Ms Maximoff, I’m so sorry, Pietro said it was okay, not that it’s his fault, I should have never invaded your privacy like that.” The word vomit just kept coming. “I was just meant to drop off the magazine and leave, I shouldn’t have stayed as long as I did. I’m so sorry, I understand if you want to fire me.” With those last words your lip wobbled, and you could do nothing to stop the tears.

Wanda, who up until now had been watching you ramble with slight bewilderment, moved to comfort you. “Y/n. I’m not going to fire you, don’t be silly,” she shushed, placing a hand on your shoulder and motioning for you to sit down, “quite the opposite actually.” You sat down trying your hardest to steady your breathing. “What do you mean?” You asked, wiping your nose with your sleeve before Wanda instinctively handed you a tissue from the box on the table.

“First, I wanted to ask if you were okay.” She leaned in placing a gentle hand on your knee. “Yesterday, in my office, you left so quickly. I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?”

“Yes, y/n! I was because…” Wanda stopped herself and leaned back in her chair. “Because you are my employee, and I think you have a promising future here at Westview.” You go to speak but Wanda continues, “Which is why secondly, I wanted to ask if you would be interested in taking over as my intern. I can give you some time to think about…”

“Yes!” You blurted out a little louder than expected, your cheeks flushed as you saw Wanda’s shocked expression. “I mean yes Ms… I would… I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. It’s just… are you sure you want me?” Before you could start to spiral again, you were brought back to reality by the sound of Wanda giggling.

“I’ve wanted you from the start.” She stood up and began walking to the conference room’s door. “For the position of course.” She added before leaving.

As you sat alone in the room you couldn’t help it as a smile crept across your face. You were going to be her intern! Then the reality of the situation hit you. You were going to be her intern.

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Tag list: @wandaslittlehorns @starfire1008 @mirage018 @viosblog112 @nebthetautora @ciaoooooo111 @cowboy-hunter

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #ceo!wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wandavision #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x you #marvel #marvel wlw #lesbian #marvel x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

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potatoplace · 6 months ago

Text

A Place In This World

The Afterthought: Chapter 5 | series masterlist

ACOTAR x Archeron!Reader

chapter 4 | chapter 6 | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: Working at Sevenda's is a welcome escape from the River House, where you've become little more than a ghost after Starfall.

Warnings: toxic family, depression, self deprecating thoughts (none of them are too terrible this chapter)

Words: ~8.4k

Author's Note: I never seem to get as far in the plot as I want to in every update... This chapter isn't too crazy exciting, but there's some sweet moments and a little bit of angst with the sisters. I hope you all enjoy this update! Title is of course from Miss Swift 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🤍💔🤍🤍

Your neck was stiff when you came to, the beginnings of the morning sun spilling across your face.

The ground outside was glistening with a fresh layer of snow, nearly untouched at this time in the morning. It seemed even the early risers had chosen to sleep in today, after the revelry of Starfall last night.

You, however, wouldn't stay asleep any longer. Not with the cold numbness slithering through your chest, curling itself around your heart, your lungs, your ribs. An absent hand came to rub at your chest, to bring some semblance of life into your hollow heart once more.

No such luck.

A glance at the clock that had recently been placed above your bedroom door told you that it was half past six.

That gave you two and a half hours to bathe, drink tea, possibly eat something, dress, and make your way to Sevenda's.

You did just that, sinking down into hot water, a sigh leaving your lips as your body soaked in the heat. You could almost pretend you felt alive.

After forcing yourself from the bath, you dressed in a simple, dark green dress. It was made of cozy wool, and the long sleeves were easily pushed up to make whatever work Sevenda would give you easier. It fit you loosely and reached to just above the tops of your feet, something you were grateful for after last night.

The feel of all those males' eyes on you... It was unsettling then, and unsettling to think about now. You could hardly imagine wanting to be looked at like that by someone you actually liked, let alone by strangers... How could Feyre stand it? How could anyone stand it? You supposed each person was different...

You shook your head, clearing those thoughts away. No need to contemplate how inexperienced you are in the romantic world, despite what Nesta claims.

Quietly, you crept downstairs, keeping an ear out for anyone who might be awake, teapot in hand. Thankfully, no one was in the kitchen yet, and you were able to prepare a pot of tea with no interruptions. Safely ensconced in your room again, you sipped at the lovely orange and cinnamon tea you had made.

As you stared out at the still-sleeping city, your mind drifted to last night. How Feyre had had no time for you, and Mor hadn't appeared while you had been in the House of Wind. Feyre had been crowded by the citizens of her city, that was understandable... Mor not showing up worried you though, but you were sure there was an explanation. And your other sisters and their mates, well, you hadn't believed they would interact with you anyways.

Azriel had been... Surprising. Caring. Sweet, almost. Him noticing that you had left wasn't something you had even considered, with how close he had been with the pretty redheaded friend of Nesta's. And... You had become accustomed to not having your absence noticed.

Your eyes closed for a moment, a wave of sadness washing over you.

You still felt so alone.

The minutes continued ticking past as you stared blankly out the window, sipping on your tea when you remembered to.

Soon enough, it was fifteen minutes until nine, and you peeled yourself out of the armchair. Boots first, then the short cloak, scarf, and mittens Azriel had given you for Solstice- also the ones that he had draped around you last night in the cold.

You wondered how he had gotten them...

You just barely remembered to grab the cup that Sevenda had lent to you before you snuck out of the River House, into the snowy city.

The walk to Sevenda's was peaceful, quiet. Most citizens of Velaris seemed to still be sleeping, and the blanket of snow on the ground muffled everything. The silence of the normally bustling city matched the feeling in your heart.

Empty. Cold. Quiet.

Sevenda's was warm already, the smell of spices lingering pleasantly in the air when you pushed your way in through the door.

"Ah, Y/N! Lovely to see that you decided to come in," Sevenda's warm voice greeted you from the left, a hand waved in greeting.

"It's nice to see you too, Sevenda. And thank you, again. I really appreciate the offer. I brought back your cup," you added, raising your hand to show it.

"Thank you, dear," Sevenda said, taking said cup from your hands. "Would you like to get started?"

You nodded your head, and let the fae lead you to the back of the restaurant, into the kitchens. It was large, with multiple shiny, silver stoves along the back wall, three matching cold boxes, a wall completely taken up by pots, pans, anything that you would need to cook. There was also counter space galore, with two other fae already working dough in the far corner.

"For today, I'm going to see how you do with prep work, mainly with fruits, vegetables, and meats. If you do well, I'll keep you on full time, if you'd like," Sevenda said, her words sparking a bit of hope in your chest.

Chopping, dicing, cutting. You could do that.

"That sounds perfect, Sevenda. Thank you for giving me this chance."

Sevenda smiled warmly at you, and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Of course, dear. Now... Are you feeling alright?" She asked more quietly, a concerned look in her eyes.

You nodded. Even though you weren't, you didn't want to rehash last night's events. "Yes, thank you." You even shot her a smile that you hoped was at least half-convincing, relieved when she returned the expression. "What should I start with?"

"First, you'll need an apron and to wash your hands," Sevenda said, leading you to the large sink, which conviently had a plethora of aprons hanging on hooks next to it.

You did as she asked, scrubbing your hands under hot water halfway up your forearm, dress sleeves already pushed up to your elbows. You tied a dark blue apron around your neck and waist, and faced Sevenda, who was pulling a cutting board from a cabinet. You noted the location, wanting to be as useful as possible as often as possible.

"I'll start you off by demonstrating how I like everything to be cut, and you'll do the same thing right after. I know it will be a lot to take in, but most of it is fairly simple. Let me know if you have any questions, alright?"

"Alright," you said resolutely, nodding your head.

The hours passed quickly, filled with you absorbing the information that Sevenda was feeding you through her demonstrations, taking in every angle that she used the knife at. You did decently, your cuts a bit clumsier than Sevenda's but still accurate enough. She was kinda, reassuring you that in time, you'd gain confidence and surety in your movements.

It was lovely.

Feeling needed. Feeling useful. You had entirely forgotten how that felt over the last two years, being the extra sister with no magic to help in a way that someone else couldn't.

By the time your shift was finished, Sevenda had pulled you aside to speak with you, anxiety building in your gut even as she smiled warmly at you.

"I'd like to hire you on immediately, full-time if you'd like," Sevenda offered, a twinkle in her eyes. "You've already got the basics down, and you're on track to catch up with my other prep cooks so long as you keep at it with the same enthusiasm you showed today. So... Would you like to have a job?"

A smile- a true, unburdened smile spread over your lips. "I'd love to, Sevenda. Thank you so, so much for this opportunity."

"Thank you for solving my dilemma of hiring a new prep cook, Y/N! Now, do you have an account with the Bank of Velaris already?"

You thought for a moment before answering. "I do... But it's the one that Rhys and Feyre set up for me. Would I be able to make a new account?"

You still felt like such a child, knowing so little about how the city you lived in worked. You had spent so long wishing and longing to leave that you'd hardly taken the time to learn about Velaris. Seeing how you were stuck here, likely permanently... The thought sent a pang of sickness to your stomach. But still, since you were stuck here, you might as well start learning about the city in which you will die.

"I'm sure that could be set up... Would you like any help with it?" Sevenda asked.

"That would be amazing, but you don't have to," you said, hoping that she didn't feel forced to help you, after your breakdown last night.

"Oh, nonsense, I'd love to help you Y/N. We can go in a few minutes, I just have a few more questions for you. Now... Would you like to work five or six days a week?"

That was an easy choice. "Six days would be best, I think." Less time in that house, waiting to be left out of events and dinner conversations.

"Alright, and if you ever want to go down to five days, just let me know and we can work something out. Do you have a specific day that you'd like off?" You shook your head. "Would Mondays be fine with you?"

"Mondays would be just fine," you replied. "Do you..." You paused, rolling the question over in your head. "Do you know of any apartments for rent? You don't have to answer, of course, I just thought I would ask," you said quickly, already regretting the question.

Sevenda merely smiled at you. "I do know of a few close by. Once you have a week or two of pay in your account, we could go look at a few sometime, if you'd like?"

You nodded quickly. "That would be amazing, Sevenda. Did you have any other questions for me?"

Sevenda closed her eyes for a moment before fixing them on you once more. "None that I can think of at the moment, but you'll be back tomorrow in case I forgot anything. Now, let's go get you a personal bank account," she said cheerily, rising from the table you had sat at. You followed her lead, letting her take you to the large, white marble building that had a large matching sign with, presumably, its name written in the large gold lettering on it.

Making an account was easy enough, and within the hour you had a small metal card, magically linked to your bank account in hand, your first day of pay already deposited by Sevenda.

You walked back to her restaurant with her, parting with a brief hug, initiated by Sevenda.

"I'll see you in the morning, Sevenda," you said, the words repeated back to you by the kind, chocolate eyed fae.

And then your legs carried you without thinking, back to the River House. The snow had melted just slightly, and was significantly more trampled than when you had arrived this morning. The sun was nearly set already, casting a pretty orangey-pink glow over the city.

Pretty.

The River House was warm when you entered, and thankfully there was no boisterous laughter coming from the living or dining rooms.

A part of you still longed for someone to ask where you were, what you had been doing all day.

But you knew better by now. And you were proven correct when no one came to greet you, even while you made a small dinner of rice with grilled vegetables. You even ate in the dining room, a rarity for you in the past months, the tiniest part of you hoping that Feyre might come in to talk with you. Or that Mor would show up, and you could spend part of the evening together.

Neither happened, and soon enough you were back in your room, a fresh pot of tea in hand, soothing, calming lavender and chamomile again.

You had enjoyed your day at work, but it had exhausted you. All you wanted at the moment was to fall asleep, but you chose to do something else before crawling into your makeshift bed in the tub tonight.

You would try to read. With your gift from the twins in hand, you pulled the cookbook that Nesta had gifted you, filled with lovely illustrations of soups and stews from all corners of Prythian.

Slowly, you let the magnifying glass read out the title a few times, your brain trying to make sense of the letters on the cover turning into the words you were hearing. It was embarrassing, how long it took you to be able to understand a sentence, even with it being read aloud to you. Heat rushed to your face, even with no one in the room to witness your shortcomings.

You tried reading a recipe, going one word at a time with the glass. That... Sort of worked, though it was slow going. And you felt like the only reason you were mildly successful was that the words were being read aloud to you.

How pathetic.

You sighed heavily before draining your last cup of tea and shutting the recipe book. That was enough of disappointing yourself for the night.

You stripped yourself of the dress you'd donned the morning, changing into a soft, long sleeved white cotton sleep dress that met the skin of your ankles, swishing softly against them with each step.

Sleep came easily to you that night, your body tired from doing so much work when it had grown accustomed to sleeping all day and rarely moving. It was a pleasant kind of tired, though, letting you drift into a peaceful sleep.

The next morning went much the same, with you rising before the sun to bathe and have a soothing pot of tea. Work flew by, with you completely focused on improving your knife skills for the seven hours you were there, determined to not let Sevenda down.

Before you knew it, you'd already worked three days in Sevenda's homey restaurant, settling in comfortably, even with the other fae you now worked with. Josi and Torma were the other two prep cooks, and both of them had been warm and welcoming to you. Sevenda's sous chef, Wren, had been a little less friendly, but you'd noticed that he was like that with everyone except Sevenda. He wasn't rude, or anything, just quieter.

It was on your fourth morning of work, a Saturday, that your routine was interrupted.

Azriel was in the kitchen, patiently watching a pot of oatmeal cook, shadows playing around his wings and over his shoulders, a couple of them breaking away to crawl up to his ears.

"Good morning," you said quietly, going to the cupboard that housed the kettle.

"Good morning, Y/N. You're up early," Azriel remarked in a neutral tone, neither judging nor questioning.

"Mm, thought I'd have a cup of tea before everyone else was buzzing around..." You said, feeling mildly guilty that you hadn't told him the full truth. You set to filling the water and setting it on the burner next to the one Azriel was using, then turned to grab your teapot. "Would you like a cup?" You asked before you could stop yourself and consider the possibility of being rejected, even for a simple cup of tea.

"I would very much, Y/N, thank you. Would you like some oatmeal? I'm afraid I've made too much..." Azriel said softly, a tiny frown on his face as he stared at the pot before him.

A small smile grew on your face at his reaction. "That would be nice, thank you." You pulled two of your teacups out of the cupboard. A few minutes later, the two of you were sat on stools at the kitchen island, a bowl of oatmeal and a cup of tea in front of each of you. The oatmeal was delicious, flavored with cinnamon and brown sugar, which paired well with the apple cinnamon tea you had brewed.

You ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally stifling a giggle when a shadow brushed over you, their cool touch tickling the back of your neck and your ankles. Curious little things...

Soon enough, though, it was time for you to depart from the River House, and return to the one place that you felt wanted in this city. Azriel had finished his breakfast as well, so you grabbed his dishes, ignoring his protests in favor of washing them.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

You rolled your eyes playfully, even though he couldn't see your expression. "I know that, I wanted to." Bowls, cups, silverware were all placed in the dish rack, clean and shiny from the water dripping off of them. Once that was finished, you returned to your room for a brief moment to grab your scarf and hat, and when you returned downstairs Azriel was lingering near the front door.

"Going somewhere?" Azriel asked neutrally, only a bit of curiosity in his tone.

You blinked at him once, twice. Strange, that it would be him who would know that you were employed first. "Yes, I'm going to work," you said plainly, hoping that his neutrality would continue. While you wanted your sisters to know... You wanted them to find out because they paid attention, not because Azriel had.

"Oh? Could I walk you there?" His question caught you off guard- if anything, you had anticipated him asking if Feyre or Rhys knew or had approved of the job. In your surprise, you nodded in agreement, and moments later the two of you were out the door, walking through the fresh layer of snow that had fallen overnight. You noticed a few of his shadows moving in front of you, pushing some of the snow from your path.

Cute.

"How long have you been working?" Azriel asked from your right, following the path you were taking.

"Just a few days, so far," you replied, trying to give the minimum information so you wouldn't bore him... Starting a new job was hardly an accomplishment for a fae of his age.

"Are you liking it?"

You nodded immediately. "I'm loving it already, working with food is probably the most natural choice I could have made." Too many words...

"That's wonderful, Y/N. It's nice to see you smile again," Azriel said softly, drawing your eyes to him. He was wearing a small smile on his lips, one that you realized matched your expression. A light flush spread over your cheeks- was your happiness always so obvious?

"It's nice to feel like smiling again..." You said quietly, more to the air around you than Azriel himself.

Sevenda's was in sight now, and you slowed your pace. While Azriel may just be being nice... He was still being nice to you. And having someone be kind to you was something you craved nearly every second of every day, so you wanted to savor it, even if it was selfish.

"Do..." Azriel paused, as if he was considering his words carefully. "Does Feyre know that you're working? She hasn't mentioned it."

"Uhm... No, I haven't told anyone yet," you admitted.

You saw Azriel nod his head in your peripheral, and you hoped it was one of understanding.

"Do you want them to know?"

You hesitated. "If you're asking if you can tell them... I'd rather you not."

Another nod as you approached the door to Sevenda's, stopping in front of it. "I won't tell them, then. Sevenda's, hmm?" You bobbed your head in confirmation. "That's good, she's a great boss from everything I've heard."

"She's amazing, if I can be honest," you said, gratitude in your voice. And she was. She had been so kind to you, and so helpful.

"I'm glad, Y/N," Azriel said, his voice the warmest that you had ever heard from him. "I'll let you get inside. Have a good shift."

"Thank you, Azriel. Have a good day," you said, waving goodbye to him before entering the warm restaurant, a smile on your face.

Your day passed quickly, filled with the delicious smell of spices and fresh cut vegetables, the sounds of sizzling meats and bubbling stews. This job at Sevenda's was truly a blessing, distracting both your mind and body as you listened to the friendly chatter between your coworkers and focused on what you were doing.

The River House sounded empty when you returned, completely devoid of sound. No running water, or voices in the living room. The entire night, you saw no one, not even Nuala or Cerridwen. You even spent a few minutes sipping tea in the living room - though you left quickly, feeling out of place even while alone - hoping to see Feyre for a moment. You hadn't seen her since Starfall, and... You wanted to see her. You also would have been able to ask her where Mor was, but alas, the question would have to wait.

The next evening, after your final day before having a day off, you saw Feyre for the first time in five days. She was glowing with happiness, both naturally and from the magic you knew she had gotten from... One of the High Lords - you still weren't sure which.

"Y/N! Come, sit with me for a little bit," Feyre said, dragging you onto the couch in the living room with her. You had just barely gotten your boots and scarf off before she met you in the entryway. "I feel like I haven't seen you in forever."

"It has been a bit," you agreed, settling in beside her. You glanced around, noting that Nesta and Elain were seated next to each other on the love seat, angry stares trained on you.

At least they weren't glaring yet...?

"So, how have you been?" Feyre asked you, drawing your attention away from your other sisters and back to her.

"I've been fine, Fey. Just..." You debated telling her about your job. That would also mean Nesta and Elain knowing... But... You wanted Feyre to know. "I've been... I've been working."

Nesta scoffed from where she was seated, whispering something to Elain. You frowned. What problem could she possibly have with you having a job?

"Really?" Feyre asked skeptically. "You... Where are you working?"

Her tone, the sheer disbelief in her voice had you regretting ever opening your mouth. Being honest was obviously not a good choice for you anymore. "At Sevenda's restaurant..." You said quietly, met with a dainty snort from Elain. Heat rushed to your face, especially when Feyre frowned at you, as though she didn't believe you.

"Really? That's... That's really nice, Y/N. I'm happy for you," Feyre said with a strained smile. You didn't believe her for a second.

Still... "Thank you, Feyre. What about you? How have you been feeling?"

"Tired," Feyre moaned dramatically, a hand on her forehead. "The little one seems to be draining all of my energy, I've had to start eating double what I normally do just to feel like I can function."

"Maybe you can stop by Sevenda's when Y/N is working," Nesta suggested in a snarky tone, causing Elain to giggle into her hand. "If she even works there... What Sevenda would need with you, I have no idea."

Tears pricked at your eyes, though you fought them. Why were they so mean to you?

Feyre glared at Nesta, but said nothing in your defense.

She probably agreed with Nesta's words.

"I'm sorry that you're feeling so exhausted Feyre. Maybe there's something that could be taken off your plate for a little bit, until you're feeling better?" Another scoff from Nesta.

"I don't think there is, Y/N. It takes a lot to run a court..."

You knew that. Of course you knew that. "Oh... Well, I hope that you feel better soon, then. I'm... I'm going to go take a bath. I'll see you later?"

Feyre nodded. "I'll see you later. At dinner?"

There was no way in hell you would be showing at dinner tonight. "Maybe," you said, standing from your place next to her. You made your way out of the living room, ignoring Nesta and Elain's glares, up the stairs and into your room.

Happy. You had been happy when you returned home. You were proud of the fact that you had gotten a job. And yet the three people that should have cared, should have shared in your happiness and pride? They couldn't care less. They didn't even believe you.

That only served to solidify your choice to leave this cursed house as soon as you could, to continue in your plan to have your own living space. And, of course, it put tears on your cheeks, on the blanket that you curled into as you laid in the bathtub.

🤍🤍💖🤍🤍

In your first three weeks of work, you never saw Mor. You did, however, receive a letter from her on your first day off, read to you by the glass the twins had gifted you. She had apologized profusely for not showing up to Starfall, though she had a good reason. The citizens of the Hewn City had demanded to have a member of the High Lord's Inner Circle stay with them through the celebration, and as the only one already there, that duty had fallen to her. And in the week since, she had been constantly fighting with Keir over the upcoming election that was planned, hardly having a moment to herself.

Which was why the letter had taken so long to be written.

You felt horrible for having thought she had abandoned you, though you knew there was a reason you had jumped to such a conclusion.

Every week since then, Mor had managed to find the time to write you a letter, each one asking about how you had been, informing you of the lastest bullshit her father had put her through. You looked forward to each letter from her, but wished that you could see her in person, or at least write a letter in response. You missed your friend. According to her most recent letter, the one that had arrived two days ago, she would be returning to Velaris for a few days in the next week.

You were excited to see her again, but more than that, you were excited to move into your apartment today.

Sevenda had shown you to two different available apartments last week, and on Monday you had signed your lease. The building was only a couple of blocks away from Sevenda's, and it was a cute little place on the third floor, with a balcony that had a decent view of the mouth of the Sidra and the harbor. You already knew that you would be taking your tea on it once the weather had warmed, the view was too amazing to pass up an opportunity to look over.

The walls inside had already been done in a shade of light pink the day before, the cabinets of the kitchen coated in a pale lavender, a move in gift from your new landlord. It was a small space, that was true. Besides the bathroom and built in closet, the apartment was one large room, with no walls separating the living room from the kitchen, the kitchen from the bedroom.

But you didn't mind.

Because it was yours.

And truly, how much space did you need? There would be enough room to have a small dining table, a loveseat and a couple of armchairs in front of the fireplace - which you had been absolutely delighted to see - and a large bed. You could even put up screens or curtains to partition off your bedroom, if you felt like it.

The possibilities felt endless as you lugged your small amount of belongings over to your new place, bursting at the seams with happiness.

Today, Sevenda had given you the day off so that you could move in, though you had tried to insist that you wouldn't need the whole day. Still, she had made it clear that you deserved the day to settle in and purchase whatever you needed, even going as far to give you a week of advanced pay.

Moving your belongings took you less than an hour, even in the snow, and only three separate trips between the River House and your apartment. The presents you had recieved for your birthday and Solstice, the clothing that you couldn't part with, skincare items, and your hairpin all went with you, but everything else in your old room stayed.

You had decided against informing anyone of your move, choosing instead to quietly remove your things. If they truly cared about you, they would notice your absence soon.

If they didn't... You would deal with that if it came.

By midday, you were shopping in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf, on the hunt for cookware. You already had the wonderful measuring cups and spoons that Nuala and Cerridwen had gifted you, as well as your tea set from Azriel, but you would need a bit more than that to be able to cook at home.

That lead to you entering a lovely little shop, filled to the brim with pots, pans, and cooking utensils in every color of the rainbow.

For now, you only bought one frying pan and one pot with a lid, both in a shade of pink that matched your measuring cups. You also purchased a set of three mixing bowls in the same shade, made of a light but durable clay. A spatula, wooden spoon, whisk, and a set of silverware also came home with you, along with a few cleaning supplies that the store happened to carry, but anything else could wait for now.

You carried your bounty home, arms sagging under the weight of your purchases as you climbed the stairs to your apartment. Everything was put away in a matter of minutes, and you allowed yourself to relax on the floor for a bit, letting your arms flop out to the sides.

You could hardly believe it... A smile crept across your face as you lay on the floor of your own apartment, that you had earned the money for. You had done this for yourself, all on your own.

Once your arms felt less weak and tired, you sat up and looked around the room. It was... Fairly barren. Your pink bedding set and blanket from Mor were in the far right corner of the apartment, the box of your clothing placed next to it. Near the door to the bathroom you had placed your box of toiletries, and in the kitchen you had already stacked your cookbooks and teas on the counter and placed your dishes in the cupboards.

You needed some kind of furniture tonight, if you could manage to find something your weak arms could carry home.

And towels! How had your forgotten about towels? Oh- and food, you would need something at least for tonight.

You let out a breath. Maybe Sevenda was right, that you would need most of the day to get settled. You got up after another moment and put your boots back on, along with your hat and scarf.

A trip to the Palace of Thread and Jewels provided you with the towels you needed, in an assortment of pastel shades and sizes, as well as a fluffy purple bath mat. You even remembered to pick out two fluffy pillows as well, just in case you slept on the floor or in the tub tonight. As you were leaving the Palace, you couldn't help but pick out a soft, sky blue blanket one of the outdoor stalls, the green skinned fae bidding you farewell with a kind smile. You walked home, snow beginning to fall just before you entered the building.

You deposited your bags on the floor to the left of your front door, and set down the stairs immediately after locking up. Before the snow started to accumulate, you wanted to get a chair or something so that you would have a place to sleep for the night. If you couldn't find anything... Well, the bathtub looked to be the same size as the one in the River House.

When you had been out earlier, you thought you had spotted a second hand store, filled with mismatched furniture. You retraced your steps, and found it to be in the middle of the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Inside, it was cluttered, with small paths leading through the building. It was near the back of the store that you found something you might like- a tall backed, wooden chair with a pink velvet cushion and backing, the legs of the chair curved and elegant.

Why would someone ever part ways with this?

You continued to the back of the store, finding a pale, short fae male sitting behind a counter, reading a book.

"Hi, I'd, uhm... I'd like to buy a chair that you have?" You asked shyly.

"Which one?" He asked, without looking up from his book.

"The uh. The wooden chair with pink velvet on it."

"Fifty gold marks," the male said shortly, a hand extending to take your bank card and press it to his ledger, all while continuing to read. He handed it back a moment later. "Have a good day, miss."

"Thank you," you said quietly before leaving the counter, going to collect the chair into your arms.

The walk home was slow going, the chair decidedly too big for you to comfortably carry for more than a few steps at a time. But still, you made it, dragging the piece of furniture up the stairs and through your door. You managed to lug it in front of the fireplace, settling into it for a moment.

You almost decided to skip getting ingredients for dinner... But your stomach rumbled in protest, at the thought of continuing to neglect your health in favor of avoiding discomfort. So instead, you pulled yourself from your new chair, then went back down the stairs and into the snowy city one last time today.

The Palace of Hoof and Leaf was a bit further than the Palace of Bone and Salt, but you knew where to find what you were planning to cook for dinner. It was easy enough to find rice, chicken, zucchini, broccoli, and a small set of spices, a large enough selection to satisfy you for at least your first month. Snow had begun to fall heavily while you had been in and out of shops, already covering the tracks that had been on the bridge when you had crossed it earlier, and when you finally made it up the stairs and through your front door, you were feeling tired.

Tired enough that for the moment, you placed the chicken in your cold box then walked over your chair, and plopped down.

You would consider today a success, even with how tired you now were. After all, you were tired in your chair, in your apartment.

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

Two days after you moved, you had an unexpected knock on your door, just a few minutes after you returned home from work.

Perhaps it was finally Feyre, realizing that you had moved.

You were proven wrong when you opened the door, however, to see Azriel standing before you, a cloth bag filled to the brim with little jars.

"I- Hello," you said, surprised at him being here, even if he had taken to walking you to work on the mornings he was in town. "Can I- Can I help you?"

"I just returned from Illyria, only to find one of my shadows to be very frantic over the sudden emptiness of your room," Azriel said, though there was no accusation in his tone. "And after I spoke with Sevenda, she... She directed me here. I hope that's alright?"

You were even more surprised by the efforts he had gone to to find you, than his presence at this point. "That's fine, Azriel. Was there a reason you wanted to see me?"

"I... Yes," Azriel said, somewhat shyly, and you swore that you almost saw a flush covering his cheeks. "You never did tell me which teas you enjoyed, so I brought you a jar of each. I thought you might like to have a bit more, now that you're living on your own."

That was... Incredibly sweet of him to do. You were running low on your tea stash at the moment, and knowing that he'd thought of you...

Don't get any feelings, or hints of feelings, you reminded yourself. Humans and fae don't belong together, no matter how kind and attractive they are.

"Thank you, Azriel," you said, stepping aside to let him through the doorway. It was only polite, after all, to let him in. "I'll take those," you said as you grabbed the bag from his hand, moving into the kitchen to take arrange the little jars on your counter.

"You don't have a bed," Azriel observed from behind you, a hand on your chair, where your blankets were still piled.

"Oh, I'm uhm... I'm still working on that," you said sheepishly, abandoning your task of organizing the jars. Your eyes darted over everything, looking for anything else he could find issue with.

"Let's go solve that, then."

"I- What?" You asked, thoroughly confused. He was offering to go shopping with you...?

"We can go find you a bed today, Y/N. You need something to sleep on, and while a chair is fine for a little bit, it really would be best for you to have a bed," Azriel said simply. You were still staring at him in shock, so he sighed lightly and said, "Think of it as a housewarming gift, Y/N. You can pick out whatever you want, and my shadows will bring it here for you."

"I- But... Why?" You managed to get out, even as you mentally kicked yourself for being so awkward.

Azriel's mouth turned up in the corners at your reaction. "You need a bed, and I'd like to know that you're sleeping comfortably."

"But... Why?" You repeated, still confused.

Azriel sighed and shook his head. "You're my friend, Y/N, I like to know that my friends are well taken care of. And that starts with a good night's sleep, which starts with a bed," he explained as he walked over to your closet, pulling out the scarf and hat that he had gifted you. He wrapped the scarf around your neck and put the hat on your head, lips turning up more as you stood there and let him. "Now get your boots on, unless you really don't want to go."

Your eyes narrowed playfully at him, but you did as he said, slipping your boots on and lacing them up. "Alright... Thank you, Azriel."

His lips turned up into a full smile this time, a beautiful sight on his face. "You're welcome, Y/N. Now, let's get going before it gets too dark."

You let him lead you across the Sidra, to a shop in the Palace of Flame and Steel that specialized in wooden furniture.

"Pick out whichever one you like most," Azriel had told you, with a pointed look telling you that he would know if you tried to pick the least expensive option.

He watched as you went from bed to bed, mattress to mattress trying to find the right combination. You had been in the store for nearly an hour by the time you made your choice, settling on a walnut frame. It had a nice headboard, with little creatures carved into the posts on both sides, a feature that was continued at the corners of the end of the bed. Some of them looked like little cats, a pet that you had always wanted to have but never could afford in the human lands, and when you had been able to, your family had firmly shut the idea down.

For the mattress, you had laid on one that felt like a cloud, supporting your body in a way that you had never experienced. Perhaps... Perhaps Azriel was right, after all.

You felt dreadful, though, as he paid for your new furniture, even as he reassured you that it was a housewarming present and he was more than fine paying double the amount if he had needed to.

He walked you back to your apartment, and, as promised, your new bed was already set up along the back wall, looking extremely inviting even without bedding on it.

"You should let me repay you," you insisted to Azriel, a hand on his forearm stopping him from leaving. "I can't... This is too much," you said.

Azriel's eyes shined with understanding as he read the guilt in your own. "It's okay, you know. To be given things, without the need to reciprocate. But... If you still feel that you need to repay me, I suppose you could make me dinner some time," Azriel suggested.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Are you sure I can't pay you back?"

He shook his head. "The only payment I will accept is in the form of food, Y/N. Again, this is a housewarming present, it is a gift that I am giving to you of my own free will. I am, however, partial to your cooking, which is why I would accept that as payment."

You sighed, but nodded your head. You would pay him back with food, as often as he liked. "What days are you in the city?"

🤍🤍❣️🤍🤍

It took two more days before Mor was in town, which you found out about two hours into your shift when she burst into Sevenda's, speaking loudly enough that you could hear her in the kitchen.

A moment later Sevenda appeared, your blonde friend in tow.

"Y/N!" Mor exclaimed, pulling you into a hug once you had set down your knife. "Oh, girl, I have missed you so much!"

You squeezed her back tightly, overjoyed to see her again. "I've missed you too, Mor!"

Mor pulled away a moment later, her face serious. "Where are all of your things? I went up to your room in the River House to see you, and none of your stuff is there! Feyre had no idea either..."

A flush spread over your cheeks. "Oh, uhm... I moved out?" You said hesitantly.

Mor blinked at you a few times before a smile slid over her face. "You... Moved out?" She giggled. "And you didn't tell anyone? Was it this morning?"

You shook your head. "No, it was on Wednesday," you admitted softly, turning your gaze to the floor.

"And Feyre didn't... Oh, sweets," Mor cooed, pulling you into another hug and stroking your hair. You pushed her away after a moment, face bright red at being comforted in front of your coworkers.

"It's okay, Mor, really. I've already accepted that they don't notice me," you said, hoping that you had successfully hidden your pain. You may have accepted that your sisters pay you no attention, but it didn't mean your heart didn't hurt.

Mor frowned at you, but accepted your answer for the time being. "Well, when are you off work? I can stop by again, and you can show me your apartment!"

"I'm normally off right around five, you could come back then."

"Sounds like a plan, sweets!" Mor said brightly before leaving the kitchen, waving at you before being shooed out by Sevenda.

You quickly got back to work, determined to make the day pass by quickly.

And it did. The next five hours went by fast, filling you with a feeling of accomplishment as you finished everything Sevenda had asked you to do a few minutes faster than usual. Something as simple as that made your day so much brighter, easier to fight away the feeling of loneliness that followed you most hours of the day.

Mor met you outside as she'd said she would, a shining ray of sunlight even as the sun had begun to set.

"So- I leave town for a few weeks, not that I wanted to," Mor grumbled as you linked arms with her and began to lead her to your apartment. "And when I come back, you've already had a job for three weeks and you've moved into your own apartment? I am so proud of you Y/N."

You blushed at her words, but still allowed yourself to soak them in. "Thank you, Mor. I'm glad that you're okay with it."

Mor frowned. "Why wouldn't I be okay with it? I think it's amazing that you decided to move out, everyone deserves their independence."

You nodded, but your thoughts were on your sisters... What they surely thought of you, leaving without a word... "It's just... I don't know. My sisters... Weren't very supportive of me even having a job, let alone having my own apartment."

"Oh, hon, don't worry about them. I think they're just jealous of you having your own life outside of our little circle. Now, Nesta and Elain... They could certainly use a talking to," Mor hissed. "And Feyre isn't much better, letting them get away with their behavior."

You shook your head. What would they have to be jealous of? Being lonely? Having at most three friends, if you were being generous with the term? "It's fine, Mor, really. I've stopped expecting them to act any certain way, it's just... Easier."

Mor sighed next to you. "I suppose so... Anyways, tell me what's been going on!" Mor said cheerily, sensing your hesitancy to speak about your sisters.

"Well... Not much, beyond the moving out and getting a job. Although..." You thought about Azriel, how you now considered him a friend- and he thought the same of you. "Azriel has been very nice, he brought me some tea blends when he found out I moved. And helped me find a bed."

"Oh, I'm sure he did," Mor said suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You smacked her arm lightly and shot her as much of a glare as you could muster.

"Not like that Mor!" You exclaimed, blood rushing to your cheeks at her insinuation. "He helped me go to a store and his shadows brought it back to my apartment."

"Oooh," Mor laughed. "Okay, I misunderstood, Y/N. I'm glad that he's been a good friend to you while I've been away."

"I am too, Mor," you said softly, a hint of a smile on your lips.

You unlocked the front door of your building, letting Mor pass through the doorway before you, then led her up the stairs.

"Three flights? I must be spoiled, only having a flight to go up one at my place," Mor said by the time you reached the top, your fingers fumbling for the correct key.

"It's not all that bad, Mor," you giggled as you swung the door open, letting her go in first, and closing the door softly behind you.

"Oh, Y/N! This apartment is so you!" Mor said brightly as she looked around. "The bed looks amazing." She flopped down on it, sighing happily after she did. "You chose good, sweets."

"Thank you," you giggled, plopping down next to her. "I'm so glad the owner was willing to paint, it saved me from trying to do it myself."

"And it looks lovely too, and as I said, very you. So," Mor started, a hand flung onto your thigh. "I thought, if you have a day off while I'm in town, we could do a sleepover again! Either here or at my apartment, whichever you'd prefer."

"That sounds lovely Mor. If you're still here tomorrow, and you don't have plans tonight, I have tomorrow off," you offered.

"That's perfect! I'll go get a change of clothes and pick up some food on my way back, if that works for you, Y/N."

You nodded. "That sounds like a plan to me, Mor. I'll see you in a little bit?" The two of you stood from your bed, Mor's hair the tiniest bit rumpled from being squished against your mattress.

"Yep! Any preferences on food?"

You shook your head. "Anything is fine by me Mor, get whatever you've been missing while in the Hewn City."

Mor's face scrunched up at the mention of the Hewn City. "Don't remind me," she groaned. "I think I'll get some kind of pasta. Pasta sounds perfect for a sleepover."

"That sounds good to me. Walk safely, Mor, it's been slick out at this time recently," you warned, smiling when Mor winked at you playfully.

"I'm always careful, sweets. See you in a bit!"

You shut the door behind her, a smile on your face. You hadn't realized just how much you had missed your friend until you saw her again.

Not wanting to waste your alone time, though, you pulled yourself into the bath, determined to finish before Mor returned. While you didn't feel disgusting, you felt a bit dirty from work still, and if you're spending the night with Mor you'd like to smell decent.

Still, you let yourself relax in the steaming water for a few minutes, bubbles coating the water's surface. Your lungs expanded and collapsed rhythmically, lulling your heart into a state of peace.

Maybe... Maybe you could belong in Velaris.

Maybe it was your sisters that you didn't belong with, any more.

But with Mor? With Azriel? At work? You felt like you had begun to carve out a tiny little place for you to exist peacefully, if not happily.

A deep sigh left you.

You wished... You wished you could belong with your sisters once more. Your heart longed to see them, to share your joy with them. But... They never seemed to share in it with you.

So, you would settle for carving out a space for yourself.

No, it's not settling, you told yourself as you began to scrub at your body with a cloth. It's choosing to live, not to merely exist.

You may not know what you want out of life, but you're willing to find out now.

You willing to try your hand at living once more.

🤍🤍💝🤍🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao

The Afterthought Taglist: @darkbloodsly @angelbunny222 @uniquedreamsblog @romantasyreader28 @that-one-bibliophole @idkmyoldonewasembarassing @deathtopistachios @saltedcoffeescotch @sleepylunarwolf @babypeapoddd @kingshitonly @bravo-delta-eccho @bluebries81 @liahaslosthermind @deepestmentalitypersona @historygeekqueen @hermajestysworld @marina468 @esposamultifandom @astrokitty18 @larissa01-blog2 @acourtofbatboydreams @angel-graces-world-of-chaos @thelov3lybookworm @weekendlusting @dxjaaaa @thejediprincess56 @casiiopea2 @butterfix @sirenpearldust @marrass @satiresunflower @mae-foster @boo-shalala @optimisticbabydreamer @sttvrdustt @bunnybella186

#the afterthought #a place in this world #acotar x reader #archeron!reader #acotar x archeron!reader #acotar x reader angst #angst #fluff #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #toxic inner circle #tato writes

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moesthoughts · 2 months ago

Text

my aching bones | action shots ( photo 02 )

chapter summary : It’s been a couple months since you’ve started photographing the yellow jackets, ever since Nat spoke to you that one afternoon at your car you’ve been closer than ever. The other girls on the team noticed and started to warm up to you. Finally, after four long games you’ve had to sit through and take pictures of, the fifth and last game would decide if the yellow jackets went to nationals or not.

warnings : description of allie’s injury, drug use, mental health topics, burning yourself

prev — next

These past months have been long, your days at school have been more than 7 hours, and you’re barely at home anymore. You didn’t expect to take a liking to photographing for the yellowjackets this much, especially after that rocky start. Since that smoke break at your car, Nat and you have grown closer. Classes you share with her are suddenly more bearable, ignoring work and talking instead, and shared laughter. You realize how close your lockers really are, which makes mornings easier to face. She visits you on the sidelines during her breaks, meaning you didn’t need to talk to the coaches that much, and on occasions, the Martinez kids. You recognize how much fun life gets when you actually have someone to talk to everyday, instead of being alone all the time.

Instead of dreading school, your stomach bunches up from anxiety. You’re calm, with a smile plastered on your face. The thought of being able to speak with Nat clouds your head. You clutch the steering wheel with anticipation, not being able to wait to see her gorgeous face. You find yourself driving her home or to your house. You’ve made custom CDs, had sleepovers when she didn’t want to be at her house, smoked, painted each other's nails, and you can’t remember a day when your nails aren’t scuffed with black nail polish. Your parents are happy too, their daughter is finally making friends. It’s not just Nat you’ve been growing a liking for, it’s the Yellowjackets as a whole. You and Taissa have the same political opinions, you finally have someone who can help you in Calc. Van will talk with you about all of your niche interests you happen to share, and conversations will go on for hours. Jackie gives excellent advice on whatever problem you have, even if you struggle with opening up to her. Shauna is great to be around when you want quiet, but she also has amazing music taste. Lottie loves art as much as you do; she even asks about how you got into photography. The list goes on and on, you’re surprised that so many people have started talking to you, even with your lack of social skills.

No matter how much time this gig took out of your daily life, you’re finally happy. You get to do something you enjoy, and you’re surrounded by great people. You’re glad you didn’t punk out on your first day, no matter how badly it went. You like that you smile more instead of constantly frowning, you like how you feel warm inside and not cold, and you like how you have company everyday instead of having to keep yourself entertained.

You’re currently preparing for the game the girls had at 4, the one that determined if they’d go to nationals this year. You know how important this meant to everyone, so you’re making sure your lens is as clean as it can be, checking if you have film for days, and writing a small card for the team to give them if they win. Nat is on your bed, sorting through the photos you’ve taken so far at their other games. Her lips curl into a smile, noticing how much you’ve taken of her. Her fingers smooth over the laminated pictures; she’s never felt so truly appreciated until this very moment. Her eyes trail the back of you, fidgeting with your camera. She puts the photos back into your box you keep beside your bed, and sits up when you finally turn around, a soft smile adorning your features. You bite your lip as your eyes land on the photo box beside Nat, a tint of red coming to your cheeks.

“So.. can I use any of these for my senior photos?”

She snorts as you hurriedly take the box and shove it back into your nightstand. At least the pictures aren’t only of her and the other girls. You lean against your dresser with a sigh, crossing your arms. You think about how you can avoid this conversation, your face lights up once you see your makeup beside you. Running away from your problems, a perfect solution to whatever is going on. You quickly pick up the box full of products and your curling iron before retreating to the bathroom, you hear Nat trailing not to far behind you, trying to keep up.

“Woah, since when are you interested in getting all pretty?”

You flip her off as you plug in your curling iron, setting it aside so it can heat up. She’s right, you haven’t used any of your makeup since sophomore homecoming, why not bust out the old look for this important event? You pick through your makeup and started working on your face, you aren’t the best with it, but you’re going for a simple look. A smokey eye, a dark pink lip, with some mascara. Nothing else was needed.

“Since now? It’s such an important day, I don’t want people staring at an ugly photographer.”

Nat scoffs and moves closer to you, leaning on the wall next to the sink. You feel nervous under her gaze, like she’s picking everything out from the deepest pits of your soul. You will never admit you absolutely love this feeling, She watches how sharp you make your wings, the neutrals you use for your eyeshadow, and she especially pays attention to the lipstick you apply to your lips. She averts her attention and rests her head on the wall.

“You’re so far from ugly, dude.”

Nat speaks over the silence once you finish your makeup look, you give her a shy smile. It was a good feeling, how such a pretty girl thinks you look good. You look at yourself hard in the mirror, maybe you aren’t as bad looking as you think, you comb your fingers through your hair, and pick up the curling iron radiating heat. You wrap your hair around the tool, your eyes still glued to your face in the mirror. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice you press the hot iron right into the side of your neck, you yell out a swear before dropping the curling iron into the sink, and your hand goes towards the burn on the side of your neck. The girl next to you acts instantly, quickly unplugging the tool from the wall, then crouching at your side. She pulls your arm away from the wound, sucking a breath through her teeth once she gets a good look at it.

“Fuck, it looks like someone gave you a fat hickey.”

Nat manages to get up, lifting you to look at it in the mirror. Your eyes widen once you land on the new mark; it does look like someone gave you a hickey. You glance at Nat, anxiety filling your veins as you see her nervous look. She’s messing with her rings, thinking about ways to cover your burn mark. You don’t have foundation, and it’s too warm to wear scarves. Her mind flickers to her black leather jacket, she wasn’t gonna need it today because she was on the field anyway.

“Do you have any ideas…”

“Yeah, get to your car, i’ll be there in a second.”

Your shoes dig into the turf underneath you, you have a striped t shirt on, ripped jeans and did you forget to mention Nat’s black leather jacket? The mark on your neck isn’t even a hickey, you aren’t sure why you are covering it up like it was. Though, here you are, anxiously lifting up the collar of her jacket to hide something you shouldn’t be ashamed of. You try distracting yourself by watching the different teams stretch, their coaches making them huddle up for inspiration for the game. You softly smile as you watch them listen, you slowly lift up your camera and take a picture, just like you did their first practice.

“Isn’t this nerve wracking?”

Your head turns towards Misty Quigley as she speaks up, breaking the silence between you both. You tend not to talk with her, since conversations between you both always turn out weird. People aren’t wrong when they talk about how odd of a girl she is, you truly don’t mind her. She’s like everyone else, trying to get by, just in her own little way. You respond with a shrug, your attention going towards your bleach blonde friend. It is nerve wracking, and you aren’t even on the team. You’re not worried about getting good shots, you already got that in the bag, but you hope they win. The Yellowjackets truly deserve it, such a talented team full of nice girls.

“Yeah, nerve wracking.”

You tune out her rambling that was soon cut off with a whistle, you watch the two groups huddle closer together and start their chants, Misty happily chips in, practically screaming “buzz” at the top of her lungs. You cheer and clap your hands once the game starts, quickly getting to work on your action shots. Your bones ached with anticipation. Not once have you cared about a sport this much, nonetheless soccer. You thought it was boring, every time your dad put on the game you left the living room out of pure boredom. Though here you are, excited to photograph and watch the score board change. You wonder what you’d be doing currently if you hadn’t signed that contract, probably rotting in your room, trying to decipher chemistry problems.

Your palms grew sweaty as the game got more intense, you shuffle between your feet as you watch the other team play more aggressive. Taissa seems to notice straight away and match their energy, messing up their plan. Your camera follows the ball being passed between the yellowjackets before Shauna catches it with her feet, kicking it up in the air towards Jackie. The blonde reacts fast, trying to position herself to kick it towards the goal. You gasp as it hits her head, but bounces towards the goal, scoring the final point. Your heart rate speeds up with excitement, but you only have time to take multiple pictures of them celebrating, running to hug each other, yelling about how they’re gonna make it to nationals.

“GET OVER HERE!”

You hear Van calling your name, jumping up and down and waving you over. You bolt, running into her arms. You feel like crying as you travel to each of the girls, embracing them with a tight hug. You end with Nat, her fingers running through your hair, yelling buzz into your ear as she jumps around with her teammates. You have never felt more proud in your life.

“Are you saying we should freeze her out?”

Nat’s tone is as sharp like thorns, her eyebrows knitting together with anger. You finally listen to the conversation happening around you after tuning everyone out to look at the photos you took yesterday, the air around the group is tense. Lottie seems nervous, her hand is massaging the back of her neck and she’s biting down on her lip. Shauna seems more confused than you, and Taissa is glaring at Nat, seeming so sure of what she’s talking about. You look at the bleach blonde next to you, trying to dive into her thoughts. She was obviously angry, her fist grips her bag on the ground, and her lips are folded into a frown.

“Well, do you have a better idea?”

Taissa has a sly way of speaking, making even you furrow your eyebrows at her in question. You’re not sure what “freezing out” meant, but if Nat was freaking out about it, it’s obviously something bad. Shauna gives you a look, you both are stuck in the same situation, spectating an argument about to unfold between the team’s most fiery members. You take a deep breath and direct your attention back to the situation at hand, not knowing if you should butt in or not.

“I don’t know, play like a fucking team?”

Nat spits out her words, her eyes filled with rage. She glances around the group, hoping that someone—anyone—wl speak up. But no one does, not even you. She didn’t expect you to say anything anyway; you had no idea what they were discussing. With a scoff, she turns around and storms off angrily toward the locker room. You watch her go, and she vanishes from your sight shortly after. Your gaze then lands on Taissa, who is staring directly at the burn mark on your neck. Quickly, you cover it with your hand and begin picking up your bag as well.

“Is that?—“

“Nope! I’ll see you guys at practice!”

You interrupt, before running in the direction Nat went, trying to catch up with her. You curse under your breath, why is a burn mark on your neck such a burden?

After listening to Nat rant for half an hour before practice, you’re stranded on the sidelines yet again watching the girls train for nationals. You note the clear energy chance, Taissa obviously has something up her sleeve, and the others that were listening earlier are all on edge, you bite your lip and watch in anticipation, your camera ready in your hands. Once the mock game starts, it’s aggressive. Girls almost tripping over themselves, you can see a future filled with green grass stains. Taissa is already freezing out that poor girl Allie, ignoring her when she was obviously open to pass to. You put your camera down as Coach Scott blows his whistle, Taissa pulls off her green marker and goes over to the older man, asking to switch teams.

Lottie stares at her anxiously as she pulls the red marker over her head, jogging over to the other side of the field. you decide to keep your camera by your side for this, you have an overwhelming feeling that something is going to go wrong, but you can’t place your finger on what. The game commences again, Taissa is hostile with her tactics, running towards Allie who currently is dribbling the ball between her feet. Suddenly, she runs into her, causing her to trip over the ball. You gasp as Allie screams in pain, holding her leg and rolling over onto her back. Misty and you quickly run over to see what the damage is, you almost throw up once your eyes land on her wound. Her bone tore through her skin, and blood is dribbling down her leg. Your hand covers your mouth as you stand up, slowly backing away from the scene.

“Okay, calm down. Just apply pressure—“

Allie shrieks in pain, causing Misty to scramble away from the younger girl as the coach yells at her. You nearly trip over yourself, the disturbing sight in front of you clouding your mind. Nat turns her gaze from Allie and meets your eyes, slowly moving towards the direction of the locker room. She pats Allie on the shoulder before jogging over to you, throwing her arm over your shoulders. Noticing how nauseous you are, she suddenly starts dragging you toward the school.

“Allie will be okay, let’s get you to the bathroom.”

She reassures you, slight relief floods your veins. You can’t help but feel horrible, you know something was going to happen. If only you were smart enough to stop it.

synopsis ʚɞ your parents want you out of the house more, do something other than rot in your room while doing homework. You decide to use your photography talent for the school paper, taking pictures of the yellow jackets girl’s soccer team. Throughout your photoshoots of their various games, one girl piques your interest the most. Natalie Scatorccio.

a/n : ending is SOO RUSHED IM SORRY it’s currently 11 pm and I wanted this out by monday (by the time you’ll be reading this) I HOPE YOU’RE ENJOYING THE SLOW BURN UGHHH

a/n : tag list is STILL OPEN!! lmk if you want on! don’t be scared to ask!

tag list — @mlovesunicorns @t-wylia @bisexual-stalin @theoreticalfreak @flurpe @girlie955 @firefl1ghts @lilliesandrosiess @princessleprechaunnn @wtfisthisnoclueman @joaniscruzing @sleepyjackets @stupendousbananasharkcop

#yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets smut #yellowjackets imagines #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets imagine #natalie scatorccio x you #natalie scatorccio imagines #my aching bones #moesthoughts #moeswriting

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rika-mmendmethings · 2 months ago

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Against Blood & Water l Sylus

Chapter 4

←CH 3 | CH 5→

Summary: Seventeen years ago, your life had taken a turn for the worse when your newborn twins were separated from you by a cruel twist of fate. The same fate had led you to the N109 Zone, to your children who were all grown up now. Reconciliation with your boys would've been slightly easier had they somehow not acquired a father figure over the years who wasn't letting them go anytime soon.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. For this chapter: mentions of guns, stalking and drugs/drug dealings, first meeting with the devil himself

Word count: 2.9k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: A long chapter as a compensation for lost time ;) This story is for the Sylus girlies' who consider Luke and Kieran their babies. A little information on the timeline: in this story, the reader is 35 with Luke and Kieran being 17. Sylus never felt like 28 to me, so he's a hot-ass 39-year-old man (bear with me). The timeline is a bit confusing, I know, but soon it'll be cleared, too. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask me, and I'll try my best to give you a proper answer without revealing too much. Let me know if you wish to be added to the tag list for this series. ♥

Tag list: @babyx91 @pillarofsnow @beyond-the-stars-fairy @yuki-sama6 @sylviewrites @idiashusband @sadmonke @monophobix @lunarvolley @stxrrielle @fries11 @gremlinartstudio @lillycore @novthirty @animegamerfox @cathedralofaudra @nm4565natty @69-gojos-wife-69 @eolivy @rievendell @silverianni @nezuswritingdesk @beaconsxd @justpassingdontworry @ruyaya @browneyedgirl22 @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @sneakysnakeysstuff @midiplier @dana-nite @lazeriii @into-deepspace @nommingonfood @eden-axe @verysleepylilguy @lunia-likes-pomegranet @do-clouds-smoke-weed @sowntears @batgirliee @slovesyouuu @blythered @lorelei-larai @owodi @eden-axe @some-gurl-idk @sarah22447 @belles-reads @kanjiharitama @astvriisk @calebs--pipsqueak

You cursed inwardly at the absence of a peephole as you pressed yourself flat against the door. Gun raised in your dominant hand, you reached for the doorknob with the other, turning it with excruciating care. Then, without further hesitation, you yanked the door open, heedless of the risk — after all, you were armed. That should be enough.

Standing before you was a short, elderly man, adjusting his glasses as he squinted at a crumpled sheet of paper. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up and scratched his head. “Is this apartment number 404?” he asked, entirely unfazed by the weapon in your hand. Perhaps he was just another product of life in the N109 Zone, where paranoia and firearms were part of the décor.

You felt your heart trying to recover from the brink of cardiac arrest — all for this?

“This building only has three floors, mister,” you deadpanned, rubbing your temples in mild irritation.

He chuckled gleefully, apparently amused by his own mistake. “Oh, dear gods! My bad, young lady. Enjoy your evening,” he said with a carefree wave.

You forced a polite smile and shut the door before he’d even turned away. Shaking your head in disbelief, you set your gun down on the table and wandered back into the dimly lit living room. Collapsing onto the couch, you picked up the mechanical bird that had been silently observing you. Its eyes remained vacant, yet the long-range tracker beneath its talon blinked persistently in red.

You tried to scratch the tracker off to no avail. Frustrated, you fetched a fork and prepared to pry it out manually — but were halted mid-movement by the bird’s sudden, piercing cries of distress.

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you set the crow down beside you, your gaze drifting absently into the distance. You could feel the bird’s curious eyes fixed on you, and with a shrug, you turned your attention back to it.

“What?” you muttered. “Your creator probably embedded ten more trackers somewhere inside you. It's not like I’ll be able to find them all before my location gets compromised, so I’ll leave you be, birdie.”

The mechanical crow tilted its head and gave a subtle nod, as though it comprehended your reasoning — and agreed. It then began preening its artificial feathers with a calm efficiency that almost made you forget it was just a machine.

You studied it for a while, unable to suppress a flicker of admiration for the intricate craftsmanship. On impulse, you scooped the crow back into your hands, turning it over to inspect the fine detailing etched into its metallic body, ignoring the irritable caws it let out in protest. It fluttered in a futile attempt to escape, but its damaged wing kept it grounded.

A pang of guilt shot through you.

With a sigh, you stood and retrieved a pair of pliers. Holding them up, you addressed the bird, “I’ll try to fix your bent wing, if you’re willing.”

You were offering it the chance to back away — to refuse the aid of your untrained hands. But your lips curled faintly when the crow hopped forward, climbing onto your lap and settling with its wings spread out in quiet submission.

Carefully, you worked on its mangled wing, using the pliers to straighten the deformed metal feathers — casualties of the bullet that had nearly torn the wing off. When you were done, you gently set it down and gave it space.

With hesitant beats of its wings, the crow lifted into the air, wobbly and a bit unsteady, yes — but it was flying again. You watched with a quiet sense of pride, half-expecting it to head straight for the nearest exit.

Instead, it circled once, then landed beside your hand, staring up at you.

You raised a brow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “What? Not planning to report back to your master?” you teased, stroking a finger gently down its smooth, cold head. “Or maybe you’re sticking around to spy a little longer — just in case I spill something useful?”

The bird offered no response, no artificial chirps or movements. It simply settled beside you, tucking its wings neatly beneath its frame.

You exhaled, raking a hand through your hair as sleep overtook your senses, your body succumbing to the land of dreams.

The next morning, you woke with a well-devised plan already playing out in your mind as you freshened up for the day. It was simple, really: you'd visit a run-down bar named ‘Gemini’ where a man named Herald was waiting. He had promised to provide insider information on the drug lord’s upcoming deal locations — for a modest bribe, of course.

You were just about to head out when a familiar pair of glowing red eyes blinked up at you mid-popsicle bite. With a resigned sigh, you realized you couldn't risk leaving your most valuable lead unattended in the apartment.

You rummaged through the storeroom, still cluttered with leftover construction materials, until you unearthed an old rope. Returning to the living room, you grabbed the mechanical crow in one swift motion, ignoring its caws of protest. You secured the rope around its head and beneath its wings, fashioning a makeshift leash. A quick tug on your end confirmed it was neither too tight nor too loose — just enough to keep it in check.

The bird glared at you with unmistakable indignation, its metal feathers puffed out in defiance as it hopped into your path. You shot it a sharp look and warned coldly, “Get in my way again, and I’ll stomp on you so hard, even your synthetic feathers won’t know which direction to fall in.”

The mechanical crow appeared to understand the threat — albeit reluctantly — and, still a bit pissed, settled by your side as you locked the door behind you.

You made your way down the streets to the bar, the mechanical crow hopping ahead of you. You almost felt as if you were taking your pet crow for a walk — almost. Considering the bird was more of a hostage than a companion, and the aged rope barely qualified as a leash, the comparison felt far from accurate.

You made it to the club with a side-eye or two on the streets and searched for the burly man as soon as you entered. The interior was only sparsely crowded, making it easy to spot your contact. You took a seat across from Herald, carefully concealing your mechanical stalker beneath the table, its leash (rope?) still securely gripped in your left hand.

You handed over the promised payment, listening intently as Herald detailed the timing of the shifts between dealing locations. In a few moments, he passed you a hastily drawn map of the N109 Zone, the dealing routes marked with crude arrows and highlighted dots. You tucked the map into the pocket of your blazer as he left, and then made your way to the terrace of the ten-story building, a half-finished vegetable skewer in one hand and the rope (leash?) of your little stalker in the other.

Standing on the terrace, you gripped the cool metal railing, your fingers curled around it for balance. Your feet were perched on the narrow concrete lip running along the base of the railing, just elevated enough to allow you to lean forward slightly. The height gave you a better vantage of the ground below, though you found your mind wandering to the thought of what it would be like if you fell. You took a big bite of the vegetable around the skewer, concluding that you’d live but the injuries you’d face would be fatal.

As you absentmindedly took another bite from the skewer, your gaze flicked toward the bar below. A customer had just entered, and you couldn't help but notice that the doors weren’t the traditional wooden kind. Instead, two tall, sturdy mirrors stood in place, perfectly aligned, each reflecting the other. The corners of the mirrors were adorned with delicate silver filigree, now chipped but still beautiful.

Twin mirrors facing each other…hm.

You took the final bite of your skewer, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at the edge of your thoughts. You couldn’t place it — but before you could dwell on it further, the mechanical crow began flapping its wings in a frenzy, thrashing and twisting as if desperate to escape the rope looped around its neck.

Startled, you tossed the skewer aside and hastily dusted off your hand, tightening your grip on the rope. But it was too late. With one final violent jerk, the bird slipped free, its tarnished wings catching the dim light as it soared to the adjacent railing and disappeared into the shadows.

Left with no other choice, you drew your gun from the holster beneath your blazer and aimed at the faint glint of crimson in the darkness. You muttered a curse under your breath — damn the N109 Zone and its perpetual gloom, even at eleven in the morning. You couldn’t risk letting that bird escape. You shifted your aim slightly, targeting the wing, intent on mangling the metal just enough to ground it.

You pulled the trigger.

But the recoil caught you off guard. A sharp, startled scream tore from your throat as the force knocked you off balance. Your feet slipped from the narrow ledge, and in one fluid, horrifying motion, your body tipped over the railing. You plummeted, arms flailing, the wind shrieking past your ears as terror clawed its way up your spine. Ten stories down. This was your end.

Then — everything stopped.

A thick, red-black mist coiled around your body, engulfing you. In an instant, it yanked you upward back to the terrace. Before you could make sense of it, you were back — kneeling on the terrace floor, your chest heaving. You wiped the sweat from your brow with a trembling hand, blinking rapidly to clear your vision.

You saw a shadow on the ground moving towards you and you whipped your head up. The first thing you saw was your stalker bird perched obediently on his shoulders making everything inside you still. His voice, when he spoke, was deep and measured, with a touch of amused disdain.

“Someone really ought to revoke your pistol permit, sweetie.”

Right at that moment, you saw a small bullet hole right in the center of his forehead and minimal blood splattered on his face. Your hand flew to your mouth not out of the knowledge of the fact that you had shot him when you were meaning to shoot the bird, but out of the realization that he was alive and walking around as if he owned the place — that the bullet hadn’t killed him, as if death had chosen to skip him entirely.

You rose slowly to your feet, gripping the gun tightly as you sized him up. The mechanical crow perched dutifully on his shoulder was all the confirmation you needed — this was the man who had sent it to track your every move. Your stalker. And yet, paradoxically, this same man had just saved your life. Then again, you wouldn’t have ended up in that kind of situation if his little invention hadn’t startled you in the first place.

You watched with thinly veiled curiosity as he dragged a finger across his forehead, the bullet hole sealing itself as though it had never existed. Calmly, he retrieved a small black handkerchief from the pocket of his blazer and methodically wiped the blood from his face.

“How is this even possible? How are you still standing—just who the hell are you?” you asked, finally finding your voice.

“A friend, sweetie,” he replied smoothly, returning the handkerchief to its place. Were your ears failing you or did you actually hear ‘fiend’ instead of ‘friend’?

You chose not to voice your inner conflict. Instead, you crossed your arms and scoffed. “Friends don’t usually set their creepy little spy inventions to their so-called friends’ backs.”

He hummed in agreement, a low, velvety sound that matched the glint of amusement in his crimson eyes. They regarded you not with malice, but with the kind of knowing mirth that suggested he was three moves ahead — and quite enjoying it.

“I suppose I owe you an apology,” he began, voice smooth as silk. “Though, in my defense, necessity has a way of making choices for us.”

He stepped closer, the click of his boots against the floor deliberate. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he offered a name like it was a game piece laid on the board:

“I’m Sylus. Leader of Onychinus.”

The name landed like a stone in your stomach. You straightened instinctively, mind racing — Onychinus. That was who employed your children.

As if unfazed by your reaction, he produced a coin from his pocket and began flipping it lazily between his fingers, each spin catching the dim light. His tone remained conversational, almost indulgent.

“Onychinus has, regrettably, found itself under the radar of Linkon’s Crime Department. A tedious affair, really. The recent... activity spike within the faction hasn’t helped. Naturally, I’ve been searching for someone competent enough to handle a few inconvenient legal entanglements. Imagine my surprise when I learned that one of Linkon’s finest legal minds was wandering around the N109 Zone.”

He gave a subtle nod to the mechanical crow perched on his shoulder.

“So yes,” he said, lips curling into a smirk, “I sent Mephisto to keep an eye on you. Strictly for your… safety, of course. The N109 isn’t exactly a welcoming place for an outsider like you.” He paused, tilting his head slightly, that smirk deepening. “And, well… turns out that decision paid off quite nicely, didn’t it?”

You swallowed the sarcastic “no thanks” on the tip of your tongue and crossed your arms instead, tapping your foot with restrained annoyance, forced to keep your demeanor since you didn’t have knowledge of the extent of his powers.

“So what now?” you asked, voice edged. “Am I expected to sell my soul just because you showed up at the right time?”

His smile turned cryptic, as if he knew something you didn’t. “Something along those lines.”

You narrowed your eyes, about to respond, when he smoothly cut in.

“All I ask is that you lend me your legal expertise. Temporarily. Help me navigate a few… complexities. I’d say that’s a fair trade for pulling you back from death’s doorstep, wouldn’t you?”

If your department found out you were even considering this offer, they’d have your resignation letter written before you could blink. But then again, it wasn’t like your hands were clean. You’d tampered with major criminal cases before, manipulating outcomes with your probability evol — all while claiming not to be an evolver when you first joined the judiciary.

"What exactly do I stand to gain in return?" You jutted your chin toward him with defiance, finally easing your gun back into the holster beneath your blazer.

"You’re a shark," he commented, the corner of his mouth curling into the faintest hint of a grin.

"You should see me when there's blood in the water," you shot back coolly, your lips pressed into a firm line.

Sylus didn’t hesitate. "Protection in the N109 Zone. Especially when you're forced to wade through the mess that brought you here in the first place. Housing at my estate and most needs taken care of. No one will know you're working for me, and your position in Linkon’s judicial branch will remain untouched. Your expenses will be handled. You'll have regular access to Mephisto, Luke, and Kieran."

He let that last part hang, crimson eyes observing your reaction.

Your breath hitched as you heard him mention the names of your twins. That alone was enough reason for you to work for him. You’d see them again. Every day, even. You could rebuild something real, something fragile that had almost been lost eighteen years ago. Thank goodness that the little semblance of pride in you prevented you from bursting into happy tears right at that very moment.

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering to a distant point as if searching for a reason not to give in.

"Alright," you murmured, gaze steady now. "I'll work with Onychinus—for the time being."

Sylus leaned back in his seat, exuding a quiet satisfaction. "Excellent." He extended a hand, his voice like velvet over steel. "Welcome to Onychinus."

You took his hand in a firm shake. His grip was tightened for a fraction of a second and you could’ve sworn you saw some kind of hostility in his gaze before it was gone.

"Why don’t you gather your belongings from your apartment?" he suggested. "We’ll head to the estate once you’re ready. I’ll drive."

You gave it a moment’s thought, then nodded. He gestured for you to lead the way, ever the gentleman with a predator’s patience.

Once your footsteps had faded and the terrace fell silent, Mephisto, perched nearby, cocked his head and let out a low, inquisitive caw. His gaze remained locked on the door you had passed through, the space where you'd stood, almost as if he were waiting for you to reappear.

After a long pause, Sylus finally spoke, his voice a whisper that still managed to echo with dark resonance. "They say to keep your friends close..." He let the words dangle, his lips curling ever so slightly. "...but it’s your enemies you should keep closer… Close enough to feel the pulse of their fear, yet distant enough that they never see your blade until it’s too late."

He turned to follow you, Mephisto perching back on his shoulder.

Author's exclusive cuts episode 1:-

In Latin, "Gemini" means "twins." Gemini is a bar which was sponsored by Sylus himself, a year after he officially met Luke and Kieran. Most of the ornaments and even the architecture of the place allude to the general theme which is 'twins'. Additionally, the menu of the bar is everything that the twins' like. The bar is "run-down" as a result of the twins antics overtime.

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

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waynes-multiverse · 2 months ago

Text

Time After Time – Chapter 4

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, SB being a nice and kind human, angst, mentions of animal cruelty, fluff, humor, slow burn, a super cliché makeover moment

Word Count: 10.1k

Posted on Patreon March 21, 2025

A/N: Heads up! My responses will still be a little slow. The boys are sick and I'm the last one standing. Haven't slept a lot this week lol. In other news – we're beginning our deep dive into Ben's past and doing a little bonding. Enjoy! 😉 ✨ Chapter title comes from Gone with the Wind (1939)

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 4: After All, Tomorrow Is Another Day

You opened your eyes to soft sunlight filtering through heavy curtains. The room was huge, as was the bed, but it was the unfamiliarity of it all that made you shift uncomfortably in the plush sheets.

The clothes Ben had lent you felt strange. You couldn’t help but remember the quiet tension between you two in his father’s study, the moment you both had almost crossed some invisible line, and then he’d pulled away like it had never been there.

Still, you couldn't shake the pull he had on you. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that his kindness was a distraction – an unexpected one. His presence stirred something deep inside you, and you hated it. You needed to fucking leave. Fast.

You forced yourself to get up, the cool hardwood floors sending a shiver up your spine as you made your way to the door. You didn’t belong here – not in this house, not in this time. You needed to escape before things got any more goddamn complicated.

You descended the grand staircase, the weight of the mansion pressing down on you once more, its silence almost suffocating. The sound of your footsteps echoed through the empty hall before Ben already appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

How the fuck was he doing that? He didn’t have super-hearing yet, did he?

“Hey, you’re up early,” he greeted you with a brief flick of his eyes as he adjusted the cufflinks in his shirt.

He was dressed impeccably in a sharp, charcoal gray, three-piece suit that made him look every bit the man his father expected him to be. But he didn’t seem happy.

You had gathered enough courage to speak by the time you reached the last step – and him. “Yeah, uh, I was wondering if we could maybe get a jump start on my… departure?”

Ben bobbed his head, lips pursed, but avoided looking straight into your eyes. “Sure, yeah,” he said at first, but you knew there’d be more. A lot more. “I just have to drop by the office and take care of a few things. But I told Florence, our housekeeper, to take good care of you. She’s already prepared breakfast for you in the dining room. Anything you need, just tell her, and she’ll get it for you. Make yourself at home, okay?”

What the fucking fuck was happening?

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you ultimately found the words. “Am I–“ Ben’s head tilted at you, a hint of amusement and curiosity on his face. “Am I a hostage?”

He barked a loud laugh at your question, but then instantly lowered the volume to a more soothing tone. “No, no, of course not. You can leave anytime, sweetheart,” he assured you, and miraculously, you believed him. “Look, if you want to leave, I’ll take you to the train station or whatever right now. I just figured, you know, you seemed like you needed a little more time. I mean, do you know yet where you’re going next?”

“I told you. New York.” You folded your arms, shrugging.

“You have a place there? A home? Family? Friends? What?” he badgered on, crossing his own arms over his broad chest with a scrutinizing look.

“Yes.”

“Which one?”

Shit.

You exhaled a frustrated sigh. This was getting old. “Why d’you care?”

Ben seemed caught off guard by the sudden sharpness in your voice. But then his lips curled into a half-smile, too tight at the corners, as he casually brushed off your question. “Yeah, guess I’m not supposed to care, right?”

He let out a short snort that almost sounded like an inside joke, his eyes flickering to the side, posture stiffening ever so slightly. He took a step back from you, adjusting his cufflinks again as if the distance and mindless fumbling could redirect the conversation, but the subtle grind of his jaw betrayed him.

You hesitated for a beat, but then decided to tell the truth. “Look, I-, I don’t really have anything in New York. I just figured I could find… something there, you know?”

Saying the words out loud caused a wave of panic to rise in your chest. He was right. Even if you left, you had no place to go and no idea how to get your abilities back yet.

“Listen, don’t worry about overstaying your welcome, alright?” Ben said then as if he could feel the anxiety taking over you. His eyes sized you up, wondering if you would push back again. “Take your time, sweetheart. Really, there’s no need to rush, okay?” A tame smile played across his lips. “I-, uh, I don’t mind the company. Makes the house feel a little less empty.”

Fucking hell…

You wanted to tell him to stop – stop being so fucking considerate and sweet when all you wanted was to disappear. But your throat tightened, and you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. So you just nodded and forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Alright.” Ben gave a satisfied nod. “I’ll be in the office. You have a good day, sweetheart.”

Shit. By the affectionate gleam in his green eyes, you could tell he was enjoying this scene a little too much. You wouldn’t play The Donna Reed Show with him – and even that was still more than a decade of progressive thought away. All that was missing from his goodbye was a kiss to your temple and the sentence, “Can’t wait to see what you have cooked for dinner tonight, honey!”

“By the way, I arranged for my mother’s tailor to come by this afternoon,” he added on his way to the front door.

“What?!”

Oh, you didn’t like this at all…

Ben only laughed at your gasp of horror. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in time. Not throwing you to the wolves alone,” he quipped.

Needless to say, that didn’t comfort you in the slightest.

“Wait, what?!”

Ben gave you a patient smile, his amusement still visible before it morphed to a more teasing nature. “Look, as much as I enjoy seeing you in my clothes, sweetheart, I figured we should get you something more… fitting. Especially if you still plan your escape to the big, wide world out there.”

Before you could say another word, he was already disappearing out the door, his footsteps echoing as they faded into the distance. However, you didn’t remain alone for long.

“Miss?” A soft voice interrupted your thoughts.

You turned to find a woman in a worn, but well-kept uniform suddenly standing in the foyer. She must have been the housekeeper Ben told you about – Florence.

Her face was kind, lined with the wear of years spent in this house, but there was a warmth in her smile that made her seem less like staff and more like family.

“Would you like something to eat, miss? It’s all ready for you in the sunroom.” Her voice was almost motherly, comforting, as if she’d been saying the same thing to Ben since he was a child.

You blinked at the mention of something called a sunroom. Sure, you’d heard of it, but you had never seen one nor had you ever known someone to own one. You’d grown up in a trailer park in Jersey, then lived in small and shabby cabin in the woods with a lot plumbing issues, and now in a shoebox apartment in a sketchy part of New York.

You glanced down the hallway at the dark, opulent, and intimidating dining room and figured the sunroom surely sounded… happier. But you didn’t want to eat alone in a big, empty mansion, your eyes landing on the housekeeper.

Florence had probably seen a lot over the years in this household. Maybe Ben wasn’t the only source of information around.

Since you couldn’t leave and Ben was so obviously avoiding you and your departure plans, you figured you could spend the day snooping.

This place was Soldier Boy’s diary, after all.

“I was thinking... maybe I could have breakfast with you? In the kitchen?” you asked her with a shy, yet friendly smile.

Florence’s brow rose in obvious surprise but quickly returned your smile. “Of course, miss. I can’t say I’ve ever had company for breakfast before since I’ve worked here, but I’d be glad to have you join me.”

Well, you had always loved being a little rule breaker.

You followed her into the kitchen, where the heavenly smell of eggs, bacon, and freshly brewed coffee wound its way to your nose. Your stomach suddenly grumbled. You hadn’t fucking eaten since that piece of birthday cake Annie had brought in that morning in the office.

It already felt like a lifetime ago. Had it been chocolate cake or red velvet? Why couldn’t you remember?

Swallowing, your gaze wandered around the kitchen as the housekeeper already bustled around, placing a plate down on an old oak table in the middle of the room. It was a warm, cozy space despite its size, shelves with china and silver lining the walls. Another fire crackled in the corner – they pretty much had a fucking fireplace in every room of this house.

You thanked Florence with a smile as you sat down, already stuffing a forkful of eggs into your mouth. “How long have you worked here, Florence?”

“Oh, I’ve known Benjamin since he was born.” She laughed softly as she continued working by the counters. “My mother had already worked for his grandfather.”

“Wow, so I guess you know Benjamin pretty well,” you said, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“I do.” Florence chuckled but then let out a soft, nostalgic sigh. “He always had a lot to say, even as a little boy. Too much sometimes, if you ask me,” she quipped.

Yeah, you knew what she meant. The supe you knew would go on for hours about his not-so-glamorous stories of the important parties he’d attended and the more important celebrities he’d fucked. And you’d sit there, slowly dying inside, wishing he had the ability to contract laryngitis.

But the current version of him seemed more muted. Sometimes, you’d gotten glimpses of the bragging, the fuckboi attitude, and the spoiled brat who couldn’t accept no for an answer. Last night, though, he’d been more honest than you’d ever seen him.

“Does he always talk a lot?” you asked, your fingers playing with a piece of bacon.

Florence sighed softly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Back when he was a boy, he could never stop talking. Always asking questions, always trying to be the best at everything. It’s a little different now. More weight on his shoulders,” she explained. “Mr. Brooks, well... he’s always had big plans for Benjamin. Too big, in my opinion.”

You only nodded in quiet understanding. The whole house was screaming it; she didn’t have to say more.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Florence asked after a beat, watching you with a curious eye.

Of course the focus would fall back on you eventually. Here, you were the odd one.

You set your fork down and met her gaze with a smile. “You could say that, yeah.”

She didn’t fully reciprocate your smile, though, her expression turning thoughtful. “Benjamin used to bring strays home all the time. Cats, dogs, even little birds,” she said, and you didn’t like where this conversation was headed. “Poor things, starving or hurt, and he’d nurse them back to health. Always said it was his way of helping,” she continued, chuckling softly under her breath. “I guess he thought he could save the world with kindness. That was before he started... well, before his father started making sure he knew what was… right.”

“What do you mean?” The creases of your brow deepened, the eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach increasing.

“Here, take my coat. You poor thing must be freezing. Look at you, you’re shaking.”

Her hands stilled mid-wipe on the countertop. “One day, Benjamin brought home a small dog. Old, injured… it could hardly walk. His father... he made him kill it.” She looked at you then, her eyes sharp. “To teach him a lesson. About weakness. He said a man can’t be soft. That weakness could bring the whole family down. Benjamin never brought a stray home again after that.”

Until you.

That was her underlying message. Florence was giving you a warning. Suddenly, you weren’t all that hungry anymore. You’d swallowed enough for one morning.

Florence’s eyes softened as if she could sense your unease. She lowered her voice, leaning in closer as she wiped down the oak table in front of you. “Listen, miss, I don’t know what’s going on here, but you’d better leave before his father comes back.” Her tone was stern – protective. Apparently, one person in this house was looking out for Ben after all. It was just someone you hadn’t expected. “He’s a good boy, but his father’s a hard man. When he returns, all this–,” her eyes pierced into you, “–won’t be tolerated. Benjamin’s already been walking a tightrope with him. I don’t want you to be another problem for him.”

Her words hit you harder than expected. You nodded slowly, a cold shiver running down your spine as you realized just how precarious your situation really was. You weren’t here just because of a little time-traveling mishap. You were a complication – an inconvenience to the best-laid plans. She had seen what happened when Ben’s father decided that someone didn’t belong. And right now, you were the one who didn’t belong.

“I’ve told you what I can. Just-... don’t stay too long, miss. For your sake, and his.”

The mansion felt different in the afternoon – quieter, almost as if it were suspending its breath in anticipation for its owners to arrive. The morning, on the other hand, had been filled with staff scurrying around.

There was George, the groundskeeper and repairmen, who’d spent an hour switching broken lightbulbs in the endless corridors. You followed him to his work shed out back, finding a gigantic garden clad in winter magic as you chatted vividly with the sweet, older man. Soon, you started to freeze, though Ben had left his wool coat behind for you with a handwritten note, which was handed to you by Florence.

In case you go outside to look for an escape route…

Which brought you to your third encounter this morning – Ray, the chauffeur. He’d sought you out after breakfast with another message from his boss to you: “Mr. Benjamin wanted me to tell you that you’re allowed to use me for any getaway plans you may have.”

So, the younger version of Soldier Boy actually had a sense of humor. Who knew?

But even as you drifted aimlessly through the mansion, exploring one giant and overwhelming room after the next, your mind couldn’t free itself from the haunting conversation with Florence. You wouldn’t have cared if you caused trouble for Soldier Boy, but for some reason, you didn’t want Ben to suffer more.

Sure, his 80-years-older counterpart was the devil reincarnated, but this version of him had treated you only with kindness, the two sides of the same coin sometimes hard to reconcile.

Your sympathy, however, wavered slightly when you met the last two members of the staff – the maids, Frances and Dottie. Frances was the older one, probably in her forties, and didn’t pay much attention to you, going about her chores. Dottie, a girl in her early twenties, on the other hand, sent you a subtle glare every time you passed her in a hallway. If looks could kill, you would’ve been dead by noon.

As her narrowed eyes particularly stared at your choice of outfit, Ben’s shirt, you quickly sensed why she might not like you.

The man really was a fucking dog.

When Florence moved to do laundry, you offered to help, but she quickly shooed you away, more or less telling you to stop getting her into trouble. So, you kept cautiously wandering around like the ghosts that haunted this home. You took in all the portraits of solemn men in expensive suits, the velvet drapes, the old-world furniture that shone with polish and pride. Spying a beautiful grand piano in the living room tempted you to tickle its ivories, but you didn’t know if it was allowed or even welcomed.

At this point, you certainly didn’t want to cause more trouble.

You ambled down another hallway, and just as you rounded the corner, the front door swung open, and Ben stepped inside.

“Are you always this curious?” he asked with a grin, leaving coat, hat, and scarf with Florence, who had hurried to his side as soon as she heard him come home.

Again, it explained so much about the future version of him. You had almost rolled your eyes but tried to remind yourself it really wasn’t his fault that everyone catered to his needs. This whole house and life was designed to turn him into a spoiled, careless man-child, taught to eat his feelings.

And as you observed Florence’s devotion to him, you suddenly saw the pattern as clear as day and knew you could never, ever unsee it afterward. His future counterpart had certainly shown a… preference in older housekeepers and maids – sexually.

You stiffened a bit, feeling like you were just caught red-handed in his diary – or his underwear drawer. “I… well, I was just exploring. It’s a… big house,” you deflected from your disturbing thoughts.

His tongue licked over his bottom lip as he nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Sometimes feels like it can swallow you whole.” He paused, probably realizing he let too much slip. “You find anything interesting?”

You gave an innocent shake of your head. “Not really. A lot of portraits of your ancestors, and some... old furniture.”

“Ah, yeah, there’s a lot of that.” He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm. But when you met his eyes, you found more pain than anything else. “My father loves his legacy. It’s like living inside a museum sometimes.” He gave a shrug of his broad shoulders that was supposed to convince you he wasn’t bothered by that fact.

It failed, though. You hadn’t been able to pinpoint it until he said it, but walking through the mansion felt like taking a stroll through the Natural History Museum.

“So, uhm, how was your day?” you asked and would’ve loved to add a sarcastic honey. But again, it wasn’t his fault this time period was still domesticating women.

“Good. The usual, I guess,” he said casually, but you could tell by the small smile grazing his lips that he was happy you’d asked. “How was yours, sweetheart? Aside from exploring and scheming an escape plan?”

You giggled softly and gave him a smile that was almost shy. “Good so far. I had a lovely breakfast with Florence in the kitchen.”

Ben’s brow raised in surprise, but his smile hadn’t faded entirely. “You ate with the housekeeper in the kitchen?”

“Yeah.” You gave a nod before your brow puckered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get her into trouble. She-… she isn’t, right?”

“Wha-… No, no, not at all,” Ben assured you, chuckling. “I just-… well, I’ve lived here for a little over twenty years, and I’ve never had breakfast before in the kitchen.”

“Huh, well, you should try it sometime. It’s fun.” You gave him a shrug, grinning.

“I’ll think about it,” he said and cocked a brow, his eyes dragging over your frame – the shirt of his you wore – with that little leer of his. “Do you always do what’s fun, sweetheart?”

The chime of the doorbell came as a welcome interruption and made both your heads turn toward the sound.

Saved by the bell. Your heart still thundered the storm of the century in your chest as Florence hurried to the front door once more. You had almost wanted him to step closer. You’d never experienced that feeling before with him.

“The seamstress is here, miss,” Florence said, swiftly ushering you toward another hallway. “Right this way.”

Fuck. You’d completely forgotten about that. You knew you needed some kind of period-appropriate attire. But why couldn’t he just take you to the 1942 equivalent of a V&M or Vara? You weren’t in the mood to entertain any makeover shenanigans.

“See you in a bit,” Ben said and fled down the opposite direction.

“Whoa! Hey! Where are you going? You said you weren’t going to leave me alone for this,” you said, your voice disturbingly close to a whine.

Ben must’ve sensed the panic blinking like an evacuation alarm in your eyes because he actually took a few steps closer to you again. “Five minutes, alright? Just have to take this to the study.” He gestured to a briefcase in his hand. “I’ll be right with you, sweetheart.”

Giving a hesitant nod, you couldn’t understand your own feelings. A big part of you hated to have him near you, hated talking to him, and hated to accept his help. Why him, of all the people on this planet? But there was another part of you that desperately sought the comfort his familiarity offered in an unfamiliar place.

Florence led you to the drawing room – a space specifically designed for entertaining guests. In your childhood, a burning trash can in the trailer park had served as your entertainment space for guests. In New York, it was your pull-up couch/bed. But sure, why not add an extra room if you’re shitting money?

The moment you stepped into the room where the tailor was waiting, your own personal nightmare unfolded in front of you as you were greeted by a flurry of fabric and an energetic woman in her forties, with short, stylishly curled hair and glasses perched on her nose. She was perpetually in motion, constantly fidgeting, muttering to herself as she laid out fabric swatches with dramatic flair. Her hands fluttered in the air like a conductor preparing for a grand symphony.

She straightened up when she saw you, eyes lighting up with immediate interest. “Ah, so you’re the one Benjamin’s been telling me about!” Her voice was brisk but warm, and she wasted no time in circling you like a hawk. Her eyes twinkled behind her glasses, scanning you from head to toe with exaggerated precision, as though the idea of fitting you for a dress was as exciting as solving a puzzle. “We’re going to make you absolutely stunning, darling. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

You hesitated at the doorway, giving her a tentative smile. “I’m really not sure about all of this. I’m not exactly–”

She waved her hand dismissively, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Not exactly what, my dear? Feminine? Pish posh. All women are feminine. It’s simply a matter of presentation.” She paused to give you another once-over, her eyes practically sparkling as she stepped closer, her hands bunching and tucking Ben’s loose shirt in various ways around your body. Were tailors always this handsy? “You have the shape, the frame. We’ll just need to... refine it.” She grinned, showing an alarming amount of enthusiasm for fabric and needles. “You’ll look fantastic in no time. You’ll be the talk of every high society ball, I assure you.”

“Huh? What now?” You blinked, unsure if you should laugh or run away. Did Effie Trinket just mention the word ball? You did not like the sound of that.

You shot a glance toward the door upon hearing a quiet creak, and Ben stepped inside, the faintest grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he took in the scene. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and your eyes locked with his, silently asking him for a goddamn rescue. But instead, he looked entertained, maybe even a little pleased, which was infuriating, to say the least.

“You okay in here?” Ben asked, voice tinged with amusement as his green eyes darted between you and the seamstress.

“Uh-huh.” You nodded rather unsurely, your nerves ticking like a bomb inside of you. “Feeling like a tribute in the Hunger Games…” you muttered under your breath, aware your audience wouldn’t understand a pop culture reference from the 21st century. At least, the knowledge that Hughie and Annie would have laughed soothed your anxiety slightly.

The tailor, as if summoned by Ben’s voice, immediately sprang to action, striding toward him with a look of sheer joy. “Ah, Benjamin! What perfect timing! We’re just about to turn your lovely guest into a proper lady. You’ve done well bringing her here.” She beamed, patting Ben on the arm like a proud parent. “Wherever did you find this girl?”

“Uh… On the street.” Ben smirked, cleverly disguising the truth as a joke.

The seamstress threw him a pointed look at his antics, shaking her head. “Always a joker, this boy… However do you put up with him?”

“Oh, I have no idea.” You grinned, your eyes flickering mischievously to Ben. “It’s exhausting!”

Ben’s brow knitted, but to your surprise, he was more amused than anything else with your response.

“Oh, your mother will be so pleased when she comes back,” the tailor tells him wistfully before turning her attention back to you. “She always wanted a daughter to show off at tea parties. She’ll have you parading around Philadelphia’s finest circles in no time.”

Tea parties? Balls? Fuck no! Not to mention you wanted to be long gone before his parents got back, Florence’s warning still all too fresh in your mind.

Panicked, you blinked at Ben, while the tailor already swung a measuring tape around you like a ribbon.

“Uh, Ms. Vivian, my guest won’t be here anymore when my mother returns,” Ben informed her, approaching you as you stood in the middle of the room like a statue in an art gallery. “So, maybe we tone it down a little with the tea parties and the ball gowns.” He then looked at you, his eyes reassuring and encouraging. “Just tell her what you want, sweetheart. I told you – I got you.” He winked.

Your cheeks involuntarily blushed. Honestly, that little gesture might have been the nicest fucking thing he’d ever done for you.

With newfound confidence, you faced the seamstress. “Uh, maybe we could find something simple and casual? Maybe a little flowy?”

“Flowy? What, like a farmhand?” The tailor’s brow furrowed wildly as if you’d just offended her, clasping a palm to her chest. She sighed so loudly you almost felt like you had just shattered her entire lifelong dreams.

Ben snorted, and you couldn’t help but break into little giggles too, both your amusement flying right over the seamstress’ head.

“What about the cream one?” You pointed at a soft flowing dress on the rack, which looked perfectly fine to get around without suffocating.

“Oh, darling, no!” The tailor shook her head vigorously, but Ben sent her a stern look.

“Ms. Vivian…” His voice was calm but warning.

“Alright, fine.” She rolled her eyes exhaustively and put the dress aside before finding another one as well. She held it up to your face like it was a magic curtain. “What about this? Maybe a soft, ladylike lavender or perhaps a daring crimson to match the boldness I see in your eyes? That color would work wonders for your complexion, too!”

“Oh, uh, let’s steer clear of the crimson,” you told her, clearing your throat – not that Ben would actually catch why that made you uncomfortable.

“It seems like ‘no’ is your favorite word,” Ms. Vivian tutted in her frustration.

Ben laughed slightly at the comment. “Oh, she’s a hard one to win over,” he quipped, but his eyes never left you. There was a soft hint of a smile playing on his lips that you could almost confuse for affection.

Were you going fucking crazy?

The seamstress paused, considering the two of you, and then smiled in a way that felt a little too knowing. “Well, I suppose we could compromise. A sophisticated look, not too dramatic, but refined and elegant. The perfect balance. And just a hint of mystery, of course.”

God, she was good. You had to give her that. She really knew what she was doing, although you hated the fact she could read you so easily.

As Ms. Vivian eagerly rolled out fabrics and draped silks and velvets around your shoulders like sacred relics, Ben snuck closer to you. His fingertips lingered on your wrist, brushing but not touching as if to reassure you he hadn’t forgotten the rules.

But his breath fanned against the shell of your ear, the hair in the back of your neck saluting him when he checked on you in a whisper, “You still holding up here okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.” You laughed softly, barely able to hold his gaze. This whole situation was nerve-racking. “Just not used to being the center of attention like this.”

“Hmm, that’s hard to believe.” Ben gave you a little grin. “You’ll be fine. Maybe you’ll even enjoy it.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Enjoy being dressed up like a doll? You’re not helping, you know...”

Ben chuckled. “Maybe not. But I enjoy watching you try getting out of it. Besides, I think you’ll look stunning, no matter what you wear.”

Furiously burning heat crept to your cheeks at his flattery. Fuck, he was good when he wanted to be. You thought you could handle Soldier Boy like you’d done so many times before in the future without issue, but this was entirely different.

“Oh, we almost forgot the foundations!” The tailor’s voice luckily interrupted the moment and drew both your attention back to her.

Your brow quirked, accompanied by an anxious feeling in your gut. “Foundations?”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Yes, darling. The proper undergarments,” she clarified and searched for the appropriate item in her large, wooden treasure chest. “What about a nice corset?”

“Oh, fuck no!” You looked at the thing in her hands with terror.

To your surprise, Ms. Vivian uttered a loud gasp of horror as well. Ben, on the other hand, snorted in amusement behind your shoulder, and you turned to him with a confused expression.

“What?”

Before Ben could answer you, Ms. Vivian spoke first: “Young lady, mind your language!”

“Oh.” Your brow raised in realization. “Shit. I’m sorry. I mean crap! No, dammit! Am I allowed to say ‘crap’?”

A louder, more forceful laugh escaped Ben then, and you could see the glassy veil of tears over his eyes. He bit his lips hard, trying to regain his composure when Ms. Vivian was scolding both of you with a stern look.

“Benjamin, you better get Mrs. Helen to work with her before you take her out,” the seamstress said, but it was more than a mere suggestion. Her eyes were practically pleading him.

“Who’s Mrs. Helen?” you asked your host in a whisper-tone.

“She’s an etiquette coach,” Ben informed you, his amused smile still unwavering.

Your brow furrowed. “What, so I know which fork to stabbeth myself with while some pompous dick is going on and on about his yacht and the stock market?”

Ben chuckled violently behind his palm, but Ms. Vivian was less than amused and quirked a high eyebrow.

“Young lady, you better mind your manners,” she chided. “You may not find a man this way. Men don’t appreciate sailor talk. You’re in company of a gentleman here.”

“Who? Him?!” With a severely wrinkled brow, you thumbed over your shoulder at your host.

Oh, that is hilarious…

“Alright, if a corset is out of question, then we at least need to get you a proper brassiere,” Ms. Vivian continued her quest to dress you appropriately.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m good on that front,” you said.

The seamstress threw you a raised look, lowering her glasses on her nose for dramatic effect. “If you think I’ll let you walk out of here without the proper undergarments, you better think again,” she told you firmly.

“I wouldn’t mind,” Ben quipped, grinning cheekily.

“Merde…” You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Fine, gimme a bra.”

Ms. Vivian foraged through her magical treasure chest again, shaking her head. “You know, I understand French, too, young lady.”

Fuck me, you thought since you couldn’t say it out loud.

“You speak French?” Ben tossed you a curious glance.

“Uh, yeah, I’m fluent, actually,” you replied and watched his brow hike up in surprise.

“Well, I’m glad not all hope is lost,” Ms. Vivian chimed in. “French is very popular for girls your age.”

“You learned it in school?” Ben asked, and you could tell he was using this opportunity to pry more information out of you, but this time, you figured it couldn’t hurt.

“Uh, self-taught, actually,” you answered. Living in the French part of Canada for a couple of years, you’d certainly picked up a thing or two. “I’m also good with Latin and Greek. History, science, math…”

“Math?” Ben questioned, a trace of surprised intrigue flashing in his green eyes.

“Yeah, math,” you confirmed, smirking. “What subjects were you good at in school?”

Ms. Vivian snorted loudly at your question, Ben sending her a little glare at that. You knew why, remembering how he had flunked boarding school. And Soldier Boy would’ve probably pulverized the seamstress right this second for making fun of him, but Ben was a lot less hot-tempered.

“Uh, little bit of everything, I guess,” he replied vaguely at first, still trying to impress you. But then he wet his lips in thought. “To be honest, I wasn’t really paying a lot of attention to my classes.”

The sudden honesty surprised you, and you rewarded it with a kind smile. You gave a quick shrug of your shoulders. “School’s overrated, anyways. Most of the stuff you need for life, you learn on the go.”

Ben’s lips curved into a smile. “Like French?”

“Like French.” You nodded, grinning.

“You know, playing an instrument is very desirable as well for girls,” Ms. Vivian added. “It lets potential suitors know you’re refined and cultured.”

So, they know I can play their flute?

You bit back your comment, not knowing if Ms. Vivian wasn’t hiding a muzzle for you in her treasure chest as well.

“Well, I play the piano,” you offered instead. Truly, you didn’t try to impress Ben but the judgmental tailor. You hoped if she thought you had at least a little bit of a well-bred pedigree, she’d stay clear of the feathered hats you spied in the corner of your eye.

“Oh, that is wonderful!” Ms. Vivian clapped her hands in delight, making you quite proud of your achievement.

One point for the trailer park bitch!

“You know, we have a piano right there,” Ben said, gesturing to the corner where the beautiful grand piano stood that you’d admired earlier that day.

“Oh, I know. I wasn’t even sure I was allowed to touch it,” you said, giggling. “Seems a little too grand for my skills.”

“No, go ahead, sweetheart. It hasn’t been played in a while. I’m sure it’d appreciate the treatment,” Ben encouraged you with soft smile, the affectionate gleam reappearing in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s too bad your mother won’t be here to see this!” Ms. Vivian tragically sighed. “She would’ve loved it! She was a wonderful player herself, always entertaining the guests at parties.”

“Was?” You looked at Ben, but he averted his gaze to the floor, never quite meeting your eyes.

You couldn’t remember if Soldier Boy had ever mentioned his mother. You’d heard plenty about his father, but his mother seemed more like an elusive mirage, swallowed by the exorbitant daddy issues that haunted him.

“She-, uh, she hasn’t really played in recent years,” Ben gave as a polite explanation but didn’t offer anything more.

“Oh, too bad,” you replied and sent him a small smile. “I’m sure she was great.”

“Alright, Benjamin,” the tailor interrupted you two, “This next part of the process is not meant for your eyes, so you better leave.”

“What? Why?” You sure as hell didn’t want to be left alone with the eccentric seamstress. God knows what else she could force you into. You were sure there were a lot worse things than a corset in that trunk of horror.

“Because you have to undress, darling, so I can see what fits and make the appropriate adjustments,” Ms. Vivian told you.

“Oh, I don’t mind staying.” Ben smirked puckishly.

“Benjamin Percival Brooks! Where are your manners, young man?” The tailor flashed him a look full of authority, her voice firm and commanding.

“Percival?” you mouthed at Ben, slowly erupting into a laugh. His cheeks flushed so red you could’ve confused them for Mars.

“I know your mother raised you better than that,” she chastised. “Go on! Shoo!”

You chuckled a little at the face he drew upon her order. Man, you should remember that trick in the future. You were kind of jealous of Ms. Vivian’s skills.

“You’re gonna be alright on your own?” Ben still checked, even when the seamstress was impatiently tapping her heel, waiting for him to leave you to your transformation.

“I suppose,” you replied, amused when the tailor already eyed you with a measuring tape.

“I’ll be in the study if you need me,” Ben said and threw you a wink. “Try not to melt under all the glamour.”

As the evening arrived in the mansion, the grand windows that lined the tall walls dimmed with the fading sunlight. You had spent the last few hours adjusting to your new wardrobe before settling on a dress that made you the most amount of comfortable – which wasn’t a lot, to begin with.

Your choice had landed on a long-sleeved, navy blue dress with the hint of a v-neck that was tied with a pretty bow. Alright, you did like the bow. A lot. This was probably the girliest outfit you had ever worn. It for sure was a far cry from your Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans, but at least you blended into your environment and didn’t stick out of the crowd like a sore thumb.

You also put on the vibrant red beret you had to fight Ms. Vivian for since it wasn’t “in fashion this season.” However, it made you feel very sophisticated and French, like you possessed a certain je ne sais quoi.

Alright, maybe you’d been daydreaming a little too much today. But one thing you’d learned during your epic adventures: Always commit to the bit.

Which meant fully diving into everything this period had to offer. You were stuck here, and you couldn’t get hunted down by an angry mob again, so you sucked it up like a big girl and channeled your inner Betty Draper.

Making your way downstairs, you passed Dottie, whose mouth dropped slightly when she saw you in your new outfit. If you thought Ben’s shirt made her hate you, that dress surely made her want to kill you now.

But Dottie, Grace, Betty, and Sheila all served as good reminders of why you had to heed caution with your charming host. You knew who he was in his essence. You couldn’t let yourself get blended by the pretty wrapping paper.

The door to his father’s study stood ajar, Ben sitting at the large oak desk as you carefully peeked your head inside and halted in the doorway. He was hunched over documents in concentration, scribbling something on paper with murmuring lips and a tensely knitted brow.

You took a deep breath and stepped inside, and the moment his eyes lifted and found you, he froze, the pen in his hand faltering midair. His gaze swept over you, not just disbelief but hunger creeping into the lush, green moss of his eyes.

Well, this was even worse than the Zeppelin shirt, the towel, or his clothes. You hadn’t expected the dress to be so noticeable. Maybe you should’ve gone with the pastel green one that made you look like a minted cupcake?

Ben’s mouth parted, but no words came out at first. He blinked, slowly, as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “You look, uhm…” he trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

Uh-oh…

“Weird, right?” you offered in an attempt to deflect.

Ben snorted a chuckle then, breaking out a bit of his stupor. “Uh, that wouldn’t have been the exact adjective I would’ve used.” The laughing crinkles around his eyes then softened to something warmer, the heat of his lingering stare rushing straight into your veins. “You look… I guess ‘breathtaking’ is the right word for it.”

Yup, that melted your heart right down to your core.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, unsure of how to respond. Then, you noticed a smile sneaking onto his lips when his gaze followed you down to your choice of footwear – you were wearing your same old pair of Chucks.

“Did Ms. Vivian forget the bottom layer?” he teased with an entertained smirk.

“Uh, no, she gave me plenty of choices. Not quite ready yet for that yet, I guess.” You blushed slightly. The truth was, your shoes still gave you a sense of familiarity and home that you wanted to hold onto. You could feel your own time beginning to slip your mind, little fragments starting to go missing from your memory. “She’d probably faint if she saw me like this.”

Ben grinned. “You’re tempting me to call her back just to see it.”

“Oh, too bad you haven’t seen her when I asked her if she had some pants for me, too. She almost collapsed like the London Bridge right then,” you quipped.

“Well, leave it to you to make me jealous I missed one of Ms. Vivian’s fashion shows,” replied Ben, giving you his signature smirk. “I was about to have dinner and was hoping you’d join me. I-, uh, I have a little surprise prepared for you.”

“Oh, uh, you know, that’s not really necessary. You don’t have to give me anything… or more, I guess,” you stammered, shaking your head, pupils flickering. “Letting me stay here, the clothes… It’s enough, okay? It’s more than I could’ve asked for, really. Thank you so much. You really don’t have to do any of that, you know?”

And you strangely meant every word. You were overwhelmingly thankful. Had that been his goal all along? Shit. Was it real it or was he playing you? The grin itching on his lips didn’t help you detangle the mêlée in your mind either.

“Is that a yes or no to dinner?” Ben formed a teasing smile.

“Uh… yes?” You were kind of hungry, not having eaten anything since Florence stuffed you full of crumpets during afternoon tea.

“Alright.” Ben nodded, clearly pleased. “Just, uh, give me a minute to finish this up.”

“Sure. Take your time,” you said and ambled through the study, your gaze drawing you to a row of framed photographs resting on the mantle.

One was a family portrait with Ben, no older than probably five, standing in the middle with two figures behind him – his parents. It was almost haunting seeing a childhood picture of that man, like seeing a teacher outside of school, buying groceries. It reminded you that underneath the emerald suit and the callousness was still a real, living and breathing person.

The contrast between his parents, however, was striking. His father stood tall and imposing, with sharp features and an air of authority that practically leapt off the picture. He didn’t share a lot of resemblance with his son, but weirdly, you could see some similarities between Ben’s father and his future offspring, making you wonder if Soldier Boy ever took note of those attributes as well.

Ben’s mother, on the other hand, was beautiful, her soft features highlighted by a gentle smile. Her eyes were kind, her posture relaxed, and she seemed almost ethereal compared to the rigid formality of her husband.

“Ah, my parents…” Ben’s deep voice ripped you from your thoughts. It was accompanied by a quiet chuckle, as though he didn’t particularly enjoy discussing that topic. He rose from the desk and sauntered closer to you, soon feeling his warmth radiating behind your back. “You see the resemblance?”

You glanced up at him, noting the subtle line of tension between his brows. There was something in his voice that betrayed the casual indifference he wanted to communicate.

“Yeah, you look a lot like your mom,” you remarked, studying the photograph a little closer. “You have her eyes and smile.”

Ben’s expression faltered for a split second with a flicker of something close to disappointment. His lips pressed together, averting his eyes down to the floor. “I suppose that’s true,” he replied with hesitancy. “Honestly, I’d rather prefer looking like my father. I’m not quite the man he is.”

You paused for a moment, your stupid hand itching to reach out to him in comfort. One thing was for sure, though: It was hard to see anything resembling Soldier Boy in the young man in front of you.

Yes, there was the occasional arrogance and bragging and even the insecurities. But you didn’t think this was an act or a game he was playing with you. Vulnerable honesty didn’t really fit his ammo when it came to wooing women. He was too proud in his virility for that.

So, you supposed you were just strange enough of a stranger to confide in. He couldn’t tell it to anyone else because – the girls he’d bedded, the staff in this house – they’d probably gossip, and he couldn’t risk that, could he? Not with a father like that. You, however, didn’t know a soul here. You were nobody. You were safe. You could keep his secrets.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you got lucky,” you said, a teasing smile playing on your lips. You giggled when his brows shot up. “Your mom’s a lot prettier than your dad. I’d be grateful if I were you.”

Ben huffed a chuckle of disbelief, shaking his head. A grin formed and widened on his freckled, clean-shaven face. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I believe I said pretty,” you teased.

Ben clicked his tongue, lips curling to fight a smile.

Your face softened, deciding to probe further. “What’s she like? Your mother?”

He licked his lips for a moment, surely considering if he wanted to answer your question. “Well, uhm, when I was younger, she was warm. Sweet,” he said slowly, trying to retrieve the memory from someplace distant. “She was everything you could want in a mother, you know? I-, uh, I felt like I could tell her anything, and she-… she’d understand.”

“What happened?” you asked quietly, your hands itching again, only held back by a sliver of self-control.

“I guess my father did,” Ben said as if he’d only just realized that fact himself. “I don’t know exactly what happened. I first noticed it when I was teenager. She just stopped being the person I remembered. She became more distant. Cold. She’s mostly just a ghost here. I think she just gave up fighting him, so she played the role of his wife, but not the one of my mother anymore.”

You had no fucking clue what to say to that. The hurt in his voice was raw, and you knew you were intruding on something personal he wasn’t used to sharing. You’d just opened a big can of worms in Soldier Boy’s past, and you had not the faintest idea how to get those slimy, little strings back inside.

Your eyes drifted back to the photograph. She seemed like a good mother in that picture, how she protectively rested a palm on her son’s shoulder. But you also noticed the contrast between the warmth of his mother’s smile and the cold, steely expression of his father. It was as if Ben’s mother had faded into the background, a supporting character in a life that had never really been her own. A fate, you’re sure, that befell many women of this time.

“You think she’s still in there somewhere? The woman you knew?”

Ben was silent for a beat, his gaze fixed on the photograph as he thought about it. “I don’t know,” he said. “I used to think so. Now, I’m not so sure. The more time passed, the more she became… him.”

Well, you hoped Mr. Brooks Sr. would enjoy the bubonic plague as much as your parents did once you got your powers back. It was the least you could do. Maybe then, you and Ben could call it even in the future and go back to your normal routine of hating each other.

It surely sounded less frightening than whatever this weird, blooming thing between you was right now that spread like a nasty STD.

“I’m sorry,” you said, not knowing what else to offer. You still didn’t reach out to him. You were already playing with matches. You didn’t need to throw them into gasoline.

Ben gave a tight smile, trying to overplay his vulnerability. But you could see beneath all the bravado and arrogance. He was just a son who’d never felt like he was enough. Not to his father. Not to his mother.

Worst of all, you could relate.

He chuckled bitterly. “It’s alright. I’ve learned to live with it. You can’t choose your parents.”

“That’s true.” You gave a slight nod of agreement. “Mine were fucking assholes from the start.”

You hadn’t planned on sharing something personal with him, but it felt like the least amount of comfort and understanding you could offer him.

Ben’s brow twitched with surprise, a smile of amusement flashing across his lips, probably because of your use of sailor talk again. Honestly, though, how fucking ironic was that? You hadn’t even sworn a lot your whole life, but spending a year with Butcher and Soldier Boy in particular did a number on you.

“What-, uhm, what were they like… or are? Are they still alive?”

“No, dead. Probably,” you replied flatly. “And they were, uhm… selfish, unkind, elusive. Dumb like a bag of bricks, too.” Upon Ben’s blinking eyes, you uttered a half-hearted “sorry.”

“No, uh–“ Ben shook his head a little, as if to organize his thoughts. “So, that story about your father teaching you–“

“Bullshit, I guess,” you admitted, smirking a little.

“So, all that stuff you know–“

“I taught myself,” you confirmed with a proud smile, standing a little straighter. “I didn’t tell you because I thought you couldn’t deal with a woman being smarter than you.”

Ben’s lips hitched a smile that he tried to bite back. “I guess we’ll see,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “I’m glad you asked about her,” he added quietly, his look touching something within your soul. “Not many people do.”

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I’m sure your mom’s proud of you. Even if she doesn’t show it.”

And then, the air shifted. You could feel it all around you, settling on your skin in a veil of delicate blossoms, rising in response to whispers of electricity. They danced across the surface, each little peak a shiver of anticipation. Your heart drummed louder, faster, till it drowned out all the other noise. There was just you and him at that moment in time.

You’d held eye contact for too long, the silence stretched on, but it wasn’t uncomfortable in the slightest. It was addicting.

Your gaze briefly fell to his plush, pink lips, immediately cursing yourself for the action. He took note of it, his own eyes landing on your unoccupied, open palm by your side. And in the short second he paused and gathered courage to move forward with his intentions, you retreated half a step and exhaled a sharp breath.

“Uh, food?” Your voice broke the spell on both of you, Ben blinking out of his momentary daze. “I’m kinda hungry.”

“Oh, uhm, yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Sounds good. Shall we?”

Ben offered you his arm, and for a fleeting second, you considered declining. But there was something in the way he looked at you, faint crinkles around his crispy apple green eyes from a kind smile that pressured you to cave. So, you placed your hand lightly on his arm, and together you strolled down the hall toward the dining room.

“Is it just the two of us in the dining room?” you asked with a lump lodged in the back of your throat. Your heart was pounding while you held onto him. The soft scent of his cologne reached your nose, notes of citrus, mint, and wood making your head spin.

Ben chuckled a little. “Yeah, it’s just the two of us. Unless you want to invite Florence again.”

“Oh, can we?” As you glanced up at him, you saw the subtle smirk on his lips. “Oh, you were joking…”

Ben laughed deeply. “I was, but hey, if you want to–“

“No, no, it’s fine.” You shook your head, trying to calm your jittering nerves.

As you entered the dining room, you were immediately struck by how large it was, the long table that easily fit a group of thirty stretching in front of you, lit by flickering candles. It was as grand as the rest of the house, but tonight it felt oddly intimate – just the two of you, and no one else.

Ben pulled out a chair for you, his movements graceful and old-fashioned. When you sat, he took the seat opposite you, and Florence hurried to set two plates of deliciously smelling meatloaf in front of you. Luckily, there was only one fork.

“So, what adventures were you up to today, sweetheart?” Ben asked, falling into the polite dinner conversation small talk. You were sure it was trained into him.

“Oh, uh, well, after breakfast, I spent some time with George in his shed. He’s got some cool stuff out there,” you said nonchalantly, only then noticing Ben’s look of amusement again.

“You spent time with George in his shed?”

“Is that not allowed?”

Ben tilted his head at you. “Why do you keep asking me that? I told you to make yourself at home. You can do what you want here.”

“No, I know,” you said, licking your lips as your chat with Florence crept along the edges of your mind. “I guess I just wanna make sure I’m not overstepping any lines here. Kinda like when you’re in a museum, and you’re not allowed to touch anything.”

Ben’s lips grew a smirk as he met your eyes. “Well, you’re allowed to touch anything you want in here, sweetheart.”

Oh no… You’d set yourself right up for that one, hadn’t you?

“So, out of curiosity, did you sleep with Dottie?”

Ben choked on the sip of red wine in his mouth, a few tiny drops staining his pristine white dress shirt. You’re sure neither Florence nor Ms. Vivian would be pleased with that – but you were.

“Hm? What?” He blinked at you like a deer in headlights, clearing the rest of the wine from his throat. “Why? Did she say something to you?”

“Might as well have answered that one with a resounding yes,” you teased and snickered into your glass of wine.

Ben frowned slightly. “You know, if she’s making you uncomfortable, I can fire her.”

Now, you frowned, eyes wide. “What?! No! Don’t do that. That’s such a dick move.”

“A dick move?” Both amusement and confusion flashed on Ben’s face.

Right… People probably didn’t say that yet. You also remembered the concepts of sexual harassment at the workplace and retaliatory discharge were still futuristic dreams, too.

“Well, you know, it’s kinda your fault. Suck it up,” you told him. “You’re her employer. You can’t just discard her because she makes you uncomfortable after you did… whatever you did to her.”

Ben was a little stunned by your bluntness. “Technically, my father is her employer,” he argued and then smugly added, “And I can guarantee you she also very much enjoyed whatever I did to her, by the way.”

Ew, gross!

“You just offered to fire her. I’m pretty sure you qualify,” you countered, not even touching the other comment with a ten-foot pole.

Ben pursed his lips for a moment, then gave a nod. “Guess I’ll suck it up then.”

You rewarded him with a wry smile. “There you go.”

“You know, that was just a one-time thing at some party my father threw. Months ago… Didn’t mean anything,” Ben added, shoving food around on his plate with his fork.

“To you, maybe,” you said and looked at him, waiting for another excuse.

But there came none. He just sipped his wine and dove back into his food.

Good. That would at least keep him from hitting on you for the next hour.

And it did – Ben and you had a pleasant dinner and stuck to small talk. You slowly began to relax, even though the tension between you two was still simmering underneath.

“You always eat dinner here alone?” you asked when Florence cleared the empty plate in front of you. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a home-cooked meal that didn’t come out of a box or a can.

One point for 1942.

“Usually, yes.” Ben shrugged. “Sometimes I go out with friends, have dinner in town.”

“Seems kind of lonely,” you noted.

“Can be. Seems a little less lonely tonight,” Ben replied, sending you a soft smile. “So, what was the house like that you grew up in?”

“Oh, uhm…” You weren’t sure if you should answer that one honestly but couldn’t find a good enough reason not to. “Well, it was a lot smaller.”

“How small?”

“About a quarter of this dining room,” you replied, slightly amused, and watched his brow crease in several directions as he tried to make sense of something like that.

“Huh.”

“We did have a sunroom, though,” you deadpanned with a sip of wine. “I mean, we just called it a window, but the thought was there.”

Ben snorted, soon fully laughing. He rubbed his lips with his fingers. “You ready for your surprise?”

“I told you. It’s not necessa–“

Before you could finish, your eyes flicked to Dottie in the doorway, holding a plate with a piece of cake and a burning candle stuck in it in her hands. The look on her face was devastating. Honestly, did this man possess no awareness at all?

It seemed like a cruel form of punishment for the girl. Fortunately, her grievances and anger weren’t geared toward you this time. The death stare fully landed on your oblivious host.

Dottie placed the plate in front you with a glare at Ben so biting you were surprised you couldn’t see teeth marks on his head yet. Both of you waited till Dottie had left the room again before you looked at him with a complacent smirk.

With a sigh, he rolled his eyes back. “Alright, I see it. Happy now?”

“As long as you’re aware,” you sang smugly.

“Stop gloating and blow out your candle,” he huffed, but a hint of playfulness swung in his voice. “I know I’m technically a day late for this, but I didn’t want you to miss out on cake. It’s the best part about birthdays.”

“Thank you.” You smiled and meant it. It was hard to deny that this was probably the sweetest thing he’d ever done for you. Uncharacteristically sweet and surely motivated by other nefarious reasons, but thoughtful nonetheless.

“You’re welcome.” He smiled warmly. “Which one is it, anyway?”

“Oh, uh… Twenty-… fourth,” you lied with some thoughtful reluctance. You knew if you’d told him your real age, there would’ve only been more questions about why you weren’t married and tamed yet.

“Older than me, huh?” Ben gave you a satisfied smile.

You bit your tongue hard at the irony and nodded, forcing a smile. Granny fucker.

“Well, happy birthday, sweetheart. Make a wish.”

And God, when that candle went out, you wished you’d be home soon.

▶️ Chapter 5: We'll Always Have Paris

Lots to unpack in this one! Some major insights into Ben's childhood and a glimpse at his mother. What did you think about Ms. Vivian? Should we get Mrs. Helen involved to fix reader's sailor talk? How much will Ben pay her not to reveal his middle name to Hughie in the future? 😂

And I'm not warning for age gaps in this fic because with Soldier Boy, it's kind of ridiculous anyway, but yes, reader is seven years older than him in 1942, but 74 years younger in the future, so they're even? 🤷‍♀️🤣

Coming Up:

So, yes, maybe you liked him. Liked him more than you’d be ever willing to admit. But were you just supposed to ignore everything else? Everything you knew and everything that might come?

Were you a fool for thinking you could change destiny?

“Tell me one thing,” you said, interrupting the comfortable silence between you two. “What would make you happy? I mean really happy. Forget about all the money and your father and everything else. What’s your happy place?”

“Hmm,” Ben hummed, teeth chewing on the plush flesh of his lower lip. He found your eyes. “Tell me yours first.”

“Alright,” you accepted, knowing you’d pushed him enough for today, knowing you had to give, too. Knowing his vulnerability didn’t come without a price. You contemplated for a moment, exhaling a sigh. “I guess… Paris. I’d wanna live in Paris. Go roller skating in the Louvre at night. Boop Mona Lisa’s nose.”

Ben snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Sounds a bit cockamamie.”

“Hey, you have your dreams, I have mine. And you’ll see. I’m gonna do it. I have more tricks up my sleeve than just math,” you retorted playfully, causing his smirk to deepen, but there was affection in every crease and crinkle on his face. “Before you mock, why don’t you just tell me yours, huh?”

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seellove · 3 months ago

Text

Could You Stay a Little Longer // drug dealer!sukuna x reader

Masterlist

Chapter 4 // (8.8k words) // Explicit - 18+

\|/ AO3 - Chapter 4 | << Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 >>

You're pursuing a master degree across the country, but are currently back in your hometown housesitting for your parents. They've told you all about their undesirable new neighbor, but when you start to get to know said neighbor, you realize he isn't all that bad. Your controlling boyfriend won't let up on you and you grapple with enjoying the company of this drug dealing neighbor boy, Sukuna. Nothing about this is going the way you planned, but is it so bad to let yourself be treated well for a change?

The cultural setting for this is technically economically depressed, rural USA where good paying jobs are hard to come by and there's not many opportunities in small towns, but it could really be anywhere that meets this criteria!

Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: Reader and Sukuna are mid 20s, mentions of recreational drug use and drug dealing, mentions of abusive/controlling/manipulative relationship (not Sukuna), could possibly be considered cheating depending on your interpretation (not Sukuna), angst, smut, fluff, time skip, prison time, happy ending trust!

AN: FYI we go on a date but it's nothing super graphic. Also I don't know much about the inner workings of a relationship with an inmate, so I apologize if anything seems weird, I just hope I am capturing the complicated feelings that would come with it. Italicized portions are letters between us and Sukuna and bold time stamps are how many months have passed since Sukuna was arrested.

2 Months

Sukuna,

Sorry I haven’t reached out until now. It took awhile to figure out how to mail this to you, and it was hard to know what to say at first. I feel bad talking about my life out here knowing you are confined to a cell. Your lawyer told me your hearing is next month. Thank you for letting him contact me and keep me in the loop. Mr. Higuruma is a nice man and seems like a good lawyer. I don’t wanna to get my hopes up, but I’m optimistic that he can help make this better, maybe that’s just me in denial though.

Enough rambling, how are you though? Are you nervous? Scared? I’m sorry I’m so naive to what prison life is like…have you made friends? If that’s a stupid question just tell me. What’s your room like? I have so many questions, if this is annoying just tell me. The last thing I wanna do is irritate you considering you’ll get one of these every other month.

I’ve been able to hang out with my friends a lot since I got back home. When they heard I’d broken up with Cam, they were so happy. They never held it against me, but they truly didn’t know how else to help me while we were together because I wouldn’t listen to them. Having an outside party like you was really what I needed to finally cut the cord. It’s weird not being around him all the time, but I’m slowly learning how to trust myself and be independent again.

Surprisingly he has pretty much left me alone. I think me cheating on him knocked him down a few pegs and made him see I’m not the huge pushover he made me out to be. Oh well, onto bigger and better things.

The spring semester is almost over for me, I’m planning to teach some undergrad classes to make a little extra money but other than that I’m going to try and take it easy. Maybe do some hiking and camping, I’d like to climb some of the mountains out here so I’m going to start preparing for when the snow melts off the highest peaks.

I’ve included my address with this, so I hope you can write me back. I miss you, feel free to call me anytime.

I hope this isn’t a weird sign off, but I do love you and hope you are okay. Don’t feel pressured to reciprocate.

3 months

Sukuna smiles when he sees the letter come in. The guard had slid it through the bars before he woke up so it was a nice surprise.

How am I? Fucking bored out of my mind, he thinks to himself, chuckling under his breath. You are so nice though and he appreciates how thoughtful you are, but goddamn anything you share is more interesting than what’s in here. Starting at a concrete wall and a steel wall of bars can only be so stimulating.

He won’t be calling you, that will just make things harder for him and you. He stands by his words of wanting you to have a normal life and leaving you to figure out whether or not you want to leave him behind.

God he wants to reciprocate those three words. Nothing in his mind right now is constant, every day feels different even though the motions are the same: Wake up, breakfast, back to the cell, lunch, some yard time, back to the cell, dinner, back to the cell. Day in and day out.

While the physical routine is repetitive, his emotions and feelings are a roller coaster, never knowing how he will feel when he wakes up in the morning and when his head hits the pillow at night. He has no idea what his future holds, everything in the hands of some damn judge who just knows him by his charges and a lawyer who probably just sees him as another paycheck. He’ll get paid whether he wins or loses.

The only thing he can be sure of is his love for you, and that grounds him just a little. The thought that someone outside these walls cares and worries for him brings some comfort in those moments of panic.

Sukuna’s parents were beside themselves when they heard and offered no support. He tried to explain himself, but to them, it was just another failure in the litany of fuckups that was his adult life.

How could he blame them? He just got lucky he met you when he did, you didn’t know him as the kid who could never get his shit together, who’d let everyone down for years. The piece of shit who wasted his parent’s money and time.

Then again, you are joining him on this next chapter of his life which will surely be nothing but him disappointing you, so maybe you’ll feel the same way by the time he gets out, or more likely, sooner than that and drop his ass. This is why he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.

He reads the letter over and over while lying on his bunk and eventually starts to read it every night before bed. Touching the same paper that your hands held before you sealed it up, the smeared ink that he can tell you brushed by accident brings him a comfort that he can’t explain. Maybe if he’s lucky, you kissed it before sliding it into the envelope.

He stares up at the same ceiling he’s been looking at for three months now. Sukuna’s not sure if he’s slowly starting to lose his mind, but he swears he can discern patterns and shapes in the texture of the material. Squinting his eyes, he tries to put a name to the shapes, but it all just looks like a jumbled mess, an accurate representation of his current mental state.

His mind wanders to you as it normally does, the crushing feeling of shame and remorse settling in as he thinks about how he could be with you right now if he hadn’t stopped driving, if he’d let that family die.

Having nothing to do but think all day does dangerous things to his mind. Once he gets sentenced and settled for a while, things should get better and he should get to participate in the various prison programs and activities available to a long term inmate. For now all he can do is work out and watch his pink hair get longer and messier. Oh and overthink every millisecond of his life to date and wonder what you were doing and who you were thinking about when you’re alone.

He prays you won’t hate him, but he wouldn’t blame you if you did when it’s all said and done.

4 months

Tomato girl!

Long time no talk. I’m assuming you know what my sentencing is from Mr. Hiruguma. Ten years with the opportunity for parole. Shit sucks, I’m determined to hopefully get this parole though, whenever that is. Mr. H said usually after serving a quarter to a third of the time they’ll reassess, but he said depending on the needs of the prison system and if they need more space, inmates can get moved around or even moved to parole early.

How am I doing? Honestly, scared, sad, bored, any and all combinations of these words.

Some things I am hopeful about though? Now that I’ve been processed and placed in my new home (long term detention facility :P) I can start participating in the prison programs. Thankfully I was deemed not a threat or a danger to others and myself, so I was able to go to a lower security facility that is focused on rehabilitation. I should be able to finish my degree, AND, they have trade programs I can get into as well. Pretty cool right? I had no idea this was even a thing.

So maybe my plans aren’t as out of reach as I thought, just a bit delayed. It’s the first glimmer of hope I’ve felt in months. There is something relieving about not being caught up in a life of moving drugs and running an empire. Like I can finally just breathe and start over. Obviously being locked up is not the ideal way I’d have liked to do that, but I’m grasping at anything positive at this point.

I’ve made a few friends since coming to my new facility. My cellmate, Gojo, was a dealer from a rival organization. There’s some bad blood, but at the end of the day we respect each other. He wants to be better too, he’s got a girl on the outside, so we have that in common. He has a kid though he hasn’t seen. He got her pregnant right before he got arrested so she was born while he was incarcerated. He’s never met her, never seen her first anything. It makes me sad and it’s not even my kid.

…you aren’t pregnant with a little mini me are you? The thought never crossed my mind until I met him and told him about you. I might actually lose it if that’s the case. I wouldn’t hate it though, it would just mean I’m the fuckin’ man and have the most elite swimmers ha. Just wouldn’t want to leave you alone to go through that.

Fuck Cam, don’t wanna hear about him anymore. He’s lucky I’m locked up is all I can say. I’m glad he’s gone for good.

Please share anything and everything, I wanna hear it all. Also ask me random questions, nothing is off limits.

Hiking and camping sound awesome, I haven't done that in years but now I want to when I get out. I love fishing too. Something so relaxing when it’s just you and the river. Even if I didn’t catch anything, it was never a wasted day in my eyes.

Hopefully I’ll have a more interesting update when I’m more settled, but I guess for now I’ll just buckle up for this ten year long ride and hope some luck is on my side.

With love and a kiss on the cheek,

Sukuna

PS - do you ever seen patterns or objects in the texture of ceilings? Let me know, I’m collecting data.

5 months

You practically drop all your mail when you see the letter from Sukuna in your slot in the mail room. It takes all your willpower to wait to tear it open until you get up to your apartment.

You sit down on the couch and carefully open the envelope, not trusting yourself to stay standing once you finally lay eyes on it.

His lawyer had unfortunately shared the news about the sentencing and it had broken you when you heard.

Your friends knew about the man behind bars. You’d shared the story one day when they dragged it out of you after breaking down in tears, overwhelmed by everything. They were very supportive and listened to everything you had to share, but also felt Sukuna wasn’t completely off base with wanting you to live your life. Ten years was a long ass time and it seemed unrealistic to expect you to wait for someone you’d known for so little time.

At one of your wine nights, you’d found his social media pages to show them what he looked like. Going through old pictures of young Sukuna had you all laughing, he was such a little punk and must’ve thought he was the hottest shit in high school and college with that fratty attire. White backwards hats over a mess of pink hair while holding red solo cups surely full of some kind of cheap beer with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth seemed to be his staple. You wished you could tease him in person but through a letter would have to do.

They agreed though that his most recent pictures were hot and were very proud of you for fucking him all night.

Speaking of that, you were absolutely not pregnant. You can’t deny that the thought crossed your mind given how many times he’d blown his load inside you, but that birth control held strong, leaving you childfree. You can’t even fathom how much worse this could have been, raising your felon baby daddy’s child by yourself for ten years. Your parents would have just been thrilled.

Which by the way, they knew nothing about what happened. Well, not exactly nothing, but an abridged version. Just that you’d met the neighbor and hung out with him a few times while you were house sitting. They were unaware of the anguish and suffering that had followed as everything blew up in your face.

7 months

Papa Kuna,

Let’s address the elephant in the room, you are not going to be a dad, at least with me…not sure about anyone before me though :D

That’s great that you get along with your cellmate. I’m sure it’s a little less lonely in there with someone you can at least interact with. I think being scared and nervous is completely normal. You got dropped into an unknown place where you knew nobody and had no idea how things operate, who wouldn’t be affected?

The news about your degree and trade school…that is so fantastic!! I looked into it too and sure enough, that’s a thing in other prisons. I hope they’ll see you want to be better when you get out and that helps your parole chances.

I stalked your social media and saw some pictures of high school and college Sukuna. You were…something haha. Showed my friends too, we all had a good laugh, but we all agreed you were a cutie. I was so lame at that age you’d never have looked my way, I’m lucky I met you when I did.

What is prison food like? I’ve been cooking a lot of Mexican food lately, throwing anything and everything into a taco.

I’ve climbed three mountains so far this summer. I’ll have to show you the pictures one day, for now enjoy this stick figure drawing of me on a mountain at the bottom. I didn’t look nearly as happy as that horrible drawing shows me, more like a hot mess gasping for breath. But the views were amazing! I could see for an eternity it felt like, and I was really proud of myself for doing something like that.

My classes I teach are full of some real brats. A lot of them are having to retake the class in the summer to stay on track and they just have the worst attitudes and seem to take it out on me. Like guys I didn’t tell you to fail, I’m just here. I don’t get paid enough for that shit.

Staring up at my ceiling now, I can see a few things. A dog, an alligator, and a banana are what I’m sort of seeing. What do you see?

For your random questions:

Did you play any sports growing up? I played soccer and basketball.

What’s been your favorite vacation? Mine was a trip to a national park seeing all the animals. Especially grizzly and black bears.

What did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be a doctor but realized I’m scared of blood so quickly abandoned such endeavors.

Lots of love and a kiss on your dick,

Tomato girl

8 months

Sukuna’s jaw hit the floor with a gasp when he saw your sign off and then he got way too hard with the visual that bulldozed all rational thought out of his brain.

“You good bro?” Gojo laughs from the other side of the cell, watching Sukuna’s face flush.

“No, not really,” Sukuna groans, staring up at the ceiling and adjusting himself as best he can. There’s no shame in here, no privacy, no secrecy, so he doesn’t really care.

“Get a sexy message?” Gojo teases. “If you did lemme see, gotta take what we can get in here.”

“She made a reference to sucking my dick,” Sukuna laughs, folding up your letter and tucking it under his pillow. “And no you can’t read it, for my eyes only.”

“Oh being possessive are we? Thought you said you two weren’t exclusive like that.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t love and adore her. I just can’t have her to myself right now,” Sukuna scoffs, pulling his shirt off now that he’s all hot and bothered.

“Think she’s seeing other people?” Gojo asks.

Sukuna shifts in discomfort at the thought. The images of you kissing his cock combined with the possibility of you getting fucked by someone else results in a whirlwind of emotions that he’s not sure how to process.

“I really hope not, but who am I to say? I don’t really wanna know honestly. Just want her to be there when I get out. I’d be okay never knowing. What about you?”

“She better not be! Utahime better not bring my one year old daughter around other guys!” Gojo exclaims. “My daughter better never be around guys for that matter. Would you want your daughter hanging around pieces of shit like us?”

“Fuck no bro.”

Both guys laugh in response before Sukuna speaks again.

“Is she gonna bring the baby to see you?”

“I told her not to until she’s older. While I’m dying to hold her, I don't want her coming to a place like this so young. It’s not right. It kills me to miss out on her firsts and knowing I left Utahime to be a single mom makes me feel like a disgrace. All I can do is make it up to her when I get out,” Gojo sighs, eyes getting glossy with tears. “What if your girl had gotten pregnant?”

Sukuna pauses before speaking. A part of him would love it. So full of something he made with you except for no one would know it’s his. People would see you pregnant and not realize you belong to him considering he’s locked away. Plus his baby being fatherless for a majority of their underage life is sickening.

Then what? He randomly appears ten years later to a woman and child who don’t even know him? He’d be just another man to his child…a stranger. He swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure but he’s spiraling faster than he can keep up with.

Lord knows he wanted that with you. He fell so fucking hard and now here he was thinking about you as his wife and making the cutest babies. His throat feels heavy at the sad realization that he might never have that with you.

“It probably would’ve been best if she didn’t keep it,” Sukuna says softly, not wanting an ounce of that even though it would have been the most logical decision.

Fuck why did he feel like he was fighting a tsunami from breaking through his eyes? He turns away from Gojo to face the wall, the gravity of his situation starting to crush him all of a sudden. Not only did he have the luxury of continuing your relationship normally, but he might have missed out on you choosing to spend the rest of your life with him, a family together, growing old and watching your kids grow up. He’s never had thoughts like this before and of course the first time he does, it’s tearing him apart.

Shouldn’t something like that be happy? Sure he had stupid relationships when he was younger but normally it was his girlfriends spouting such nonsense while he was just in it for a good time, never thinking long term.

Not you though. A good time would surely have been a given, but he’d been excited to face the challenges of life together, learning and growing as one. Life’s normal challenges, not this fucked up series of events.

He feels a firm hand on his arm, lightly tugging him to roll over. His eyes are burning as he squints hard, trying to hold back everything threatening to spill over from his crimson gaze.

“Sukuna, look at me,” Gojo’s voice is soft but firm.

“Fuck off man.” Sukuna’s shaky voice tries to force out, but his whole body is shaking, heart pounding so hard he feels like it might burst.

“No, turn around. It’s okay. You think I’ve never been where you are? You’re panicking. I get it. Talk to me, you can only bottle up shit for so long in here.”

Sukuna finally surrenders, rolling back around to face his cellmate.

“I just, I-I really loved her. So damn much. And I tried to push her away, albeit gently, when I got locked up. I wanted her to be able to live a normal life, but I don’t fuckin’ want that man. I never did, I wanted us to be together, I still do. But I feel so helpless, I have no control over our future, I feel like one day she’ll stop writing back, and then I’ll know she found someone else. Fuck I feel like such a loser for even saying this shit,” Sukuna starts to cry, wiping the tears from his eyes in this moment of weakness.

Gojo just listens, not chiming in, soft blue eyes full of empathy for his cellmate…no, his friend. The only real friend in here. He understands, prison can break a man and do things to your mind that you’d never think possible on the outside. Even the toughest criminals with a bloodied past have someone they care about, someone who loves them. Being without them during life’s most challenging time is a terrifying and trying time.

“It’s okay man, how could you not feel this way? You’re a good guy, you don’t deserve to be in here. We all had dreams of how our life would go and how we wanted to be better, that’s why we are in a rehab facility and not maximum security. Watching what could have been slip through your fingers is horrifying. Have you thought about telling her how you really feel? If you really love her, you owe it to her to be honest. She still writes you all the time…”

You also try to schedule visitation but Sukuna declines them all. For what? He doesn’t even fucking know. He’d kill to feel you wrapped up in a massive hug, your body pressed against his, your scent in his nose as he buries his face in your neck.

He thought it was incredibly selfish to want you to wait for him, but maybe what he’s doing is even worse. Trying to control and manipulate your feelings like this suddenly seems wrong, no better than your ex. You have free will to do what you want, and if waiting for him was what you choose, who is he to fight you on that?

He feels like he’s going to pass out, breaking out into a cold sweat, breaths so shallow he can’t even tell if oxygen is getting to his lungs.

“Here, get on the floor, take your pants off so you’re just in your boxers,” Gojo says sternly, yanking Sukuna out of his bed onto his back.

The cold hard floor takes Sukuna by surprise, offering a distraction from his racing thoughts. He spreads his arms out, letting the chill touch every inch of his skin, staring up at the ceiling, eyes searching for something, anything.

He swears he sees a heart. A lopsided one at that, but it’s there, even if it looks like it’s about to break. Kind of like him, all this time he’s been trying to break your heart, but the best he’s done is bend it and likely just confuse you.

His however?

He’s broken it without even knowing.

He needs to talk to you. He can’t wait another two months to get a response. He’ll call you, hopefully you’ll pick up but he wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. He’s been forcing you to live life on his terms, withholding multiple lines of communication this whole time.

The guilt is gnawing at his stomach, the acid boring a hole in his gut as he tries to keep himself from vomiting in disgust.

“I fucked up Gojo. I really did.”

“I don’t think you’re as bad off as you think. She still writes to you, apparently sent you something sexual, and asks you questions about your life. She wouldn’t be doing that if she didn’t care. She just would stop. But fucking call her you piece of shit. Acting like the phone is your mortal enemy like a little bitch, quit being a pussy and man up,” Gojo says, only half teasing.

As much as Sukuna wants to argue with Gojo, he knows he’s right. White haired fuck.

Fuck that guy.

Now he’s nervous like a teenager to call you. How pathetic to be 24 years old and terrified to talk to a girl you said loved…to her face.

9 months

My favorite tomato girl,

Great questions at the end. I played football, quarterback to be exact. Your cliche high school jock that thought he was way too cool. Also I think I’d have liked you in high school just fine, I wasn’t above being friends with anyone, maybe if I’d hung out with you I’d have had a better future cuz you know what’s not cool? Jail.

My favorite vacation? Probably African safari for my high school graduation. I got to choose anywhere for a trip and I chose that. Seems we have wanting to see animals in common, my favorites were the lions. Guess when I get out we will need to plan some animal themed vacations. Polar bears in Canada, manatees in Florida, whale sharks in Mexico, take your pick, I’ve got enough fucking cash to fund anything you want.

What did I want to be when I grow up? When I was really little I wanted to be a chef, then when I was older I wanted to do something with cars and also have my own business. As you know I love working on my own car so I wanted to mod people's cars for a living. And…well here I am.

When I stare up at my ceiling, I see a heart.

Also sometimes a truck. I’ll need to lay in other parts of my cell to see if there is anything else, that’s just above my bed.

I’m glad I’m not gonna be a dad yet. I’d prefer to do that together when I’m out…so you aren’t doing it alone. Give it some thought and maybe one day we can try for one…if you’d want it to be with me that is.

I don’t want to burden you with my feelings, but I’m not doing well. It’s like the realization that this is my life for the next ten years suddenly hit me the other day. You’re the only person I can talk to though outside of here, I hope you are willing to entertain these feelings of mine.

My cellmate Gojo is decent at listening, he’s been in here a little longer than me so he gets it, it’s nice to feel not so alone in that regard.

I’m sorry, I’m rambling, almost treating this like a diary I guess. I want to call you, but I’m really nervous for some reason. If you don’t want to talk to me I understand, you can just ignore the call, but I wanted to wait long enough for you to get this letter before I did. I didn’t want you to get it out of the blue.

I miss you tremendously, I really hope you’ll answer.

You read the letter as you are about to walk out the door to go out.

Out on a date.

You wanted to take Sukuna up on his request for you to try to see other people. The man had very little in the way of freedom to do what he wanted, so the least you could do was honor his wishes.

Your heart sinks and you feel a shiver run down your spine. The letter has you concerned for him, his mental state seems to have declined rapidly if he wanted to call you, something he swore he’d never do.

You leave the letter on your kitchen table, you’ll revisit it later. For now, your Uber is waiting outside your apartment and you don’t want to keep your date waiting.

Slipping into the backseat, you greet the driver and settle in, buckling the seatbelt and pulling your phone out. You begin to scroll social media but eventually stop, opting to stare out the window instead at the buildings whizzing by.

It’s been nine months since you last saw Sukuna, since you last heard his voice. One letter every other month was all the contact you had, but it’s how he wanted things to be. If you had it your way, you’d have talked more often, but his boundaries were more stringent than yours. He had his reasons you suppose.

This would be your first date since Cam. You and Sukuna never truly went on a date. Maybe you could call eating dinner at his house one, even though it had ended badly. Fucking all night hardly constituted a date either, but you’d gotten to know each other slowly up until that point. It felt more natural than meeting someone on an app and going in blind like you were right now.

A pang in your chest was starting to develop. This isn’t what you wanted, you didn’t want another man, but you wouldn’t know for sure unless you put yourself out there.

The car abruptly stops, signaling the end of your ride. Thanking the driver, you get out and turn towards the trendy looking bar where you were meeting.

Just go in there, the worst that can happen is you aren’t having a good time and you can just leave. You don’t even know the man, dating app meetups end this way all the time.

You swallow hard one last time and head inside, eyes darting around the room looking for the guy you were meeting. Finally your eyes lock onto the familiar face you recognize from his profile.

He stands up, smiling at you and waving you over. The first thing you notice is that he’s tall and muscular. The pictures kind of hinted at that, but in person it’s even more obvious.

“Nanami right?” you say nervously as you approach, holding out your hand to shake his. His handshake is firm but gentle, dress shirt cuffed up at his forearms which flex as he grips your hand.

“Yep, so glad you could meet today. I just got off work, how about you?” his voice is low but confident as he pulls your chair out for you.

Wow, what a gentleman.

“I was in the lab most of today. I’m doing the last touches on my research before I really dive into my thesis,” you respond, scooting your chair in as he takes his seat opposite of you.

“You said you should be graduating in a few months right?” Nanami says as he leans his elbows on the table, paying close attention to you.

“Yes! Then it’s off to find a job,” you laugh, trying to settle into the small talk. The pit in your stomach is still gnawing at your insides as you attempt to relax. Maybe a drink will help settle you out.

You order a simple gin and tonic while Nanami opts for a beer. Thankfully your drink is strong which should hopefully give you a quick buzz and calm your nerves.

“So you’re in finance?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation flowing.

“Yep, investment banking. Not the most exciting job in the world, and I don’t like it enough for all the hours I work,” he glances down at the table while speaking, fingers trembling lightly against his glass.

Maybe he’s a little nervous too. You give him an encouraging smile in response.

“I’m sorry if it seems like I’m nervous,” you begin, “I haven’t dated in almost a year since I broke up with my ex. Then some stuff happened in my personal life, so I’m kind of testing the waters so to speak.”

That’s a generous way to put it, you think to yourself. Do you even mention Sukuna? Your boyfriend of a grand twelve hours that technically never broke up with you but told you to see other people? Who you won’t see again for a decade?

Your throat feels heavy at the thought. Trying to push the feeling away, you take a big sip of your drink.

“That’s okay. I haven’t dated since college two years ago. My job has been so demanding, I’ve never felt like I could devote time to a relationship,” Nanami says, sympathy in his eyes. “We can just take this slow, no pressure.”

The relief you should feel from his words doesn’t come, if anything you just feel guilty. You don’t want to lead the man on and you also feel disingenuous about keeping Sukuna a secret. Which in itself also seems disrespectful to Sukuna.

What in the world have you gotten yourself into?

You try to remember what you told yourself earlier. Just see where it goes.

“Thank you Nanami, I’d like that. Let’s just have fun and see where this goes,” you answer with a smile and another big sip of your drink.

Your hypothesis was correct in that the more you drank, the easier the conversation flowed and soon you both were bantering and laughing about your shared grievances with college and the working world. Nanami was a smart, well educated man who could hold an intelligent conversation which was right up your alley.

After a few shared appetizers and two more drinks, the bar was starting to fill up with the late night crowd. Nanami was very adamant about getting a good night's sleep before work, as were you, so he paid the bill and led you outside.

“Wanna come hang out at my place? Still have a few more hours before I should go to bed,” he asks, resting his hand on the small of your back.

His heavy touch sent sparks through your body, warming your skin in the evening chill. You really enjoyed his company. Plus he was hot and respectful, a man of such tasteful flirting that wasn’t too over the top but made you feel comfortable and desired.

“Is this you asking me what I think you’re asking?” you give him a small grin, moving closer to him as his hand pressed you forward.

“Maybe. Like I said though, no pressure. I’ve just found your company to be enjoyable enough that I’m not really wanting the night to end just yet. I’ll be happy with whatever we decide to do after this,” he says with a kind smile.

Fuck, why was he so nice? It’s not like you were complaining, but it really gave you no good reason to say no. You hadn’t planned on hooking up with someone tonight, but fuck it, you were really starting to lean that way.

You missed feeling intimate and cared for by someone. The feeling of someone pleasuring you and feeling their skin on yours was a distant memory. Technically it had been years because lord knows Cam didn’t give you that feeling and Sukuna was essentially a one night stand given what transpired.

You stand up on your toes, pull Nanami down by his loosened tie, and plant a soft kiss on his lips. His strong arms move to wrap around your back, hands not venturing any lower than your hips as he pulls you closer, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip. You part your lips, letting his tongue entwine with yours in a calm and slow dance.

Fuck, you wanted to have sex with the man. He felt safe and respectful, which is what you needed right now. It wasn’t even about the emotional connection, you needed something physical.

Making out on the sidewalk leads to straddling him on his couch in a high rise apartment, his hot breath on your neck as you ground yourself against his lap.

Your eyes flicker open as the image of Sukuna pops into your head. The first time you’d ever kissed him was in a similar position on his couch, except you’d panicked and stopped, feeling like you were being unfaithful.

Why did it feel like you were about to be again? He’d given you permission to do this, and you weren’t even sure if he actually wanted you after trying to push you away and denying everything you countered with. You’d never felt like you had physical needs before, but after that night with Sukuna, you were desperate to feel something similar again. Someone worshipping your body and focusing on pleasing you.

“Wait,” you force out, briefly pulling away from Nanami.

“Is everything alright?” he stops immediately, hands hovering behind your back.

“Yes, but I just want to be honest with my intentions,” you say with a shaky voice.

“Here, sit next to me,” Nanami guides you towards the spot next to him on the couch, eyes softly looking into yours as he waits for you to continue.

“I, um, it’s complicated. Fuck, I’m sorry,” you shake your head trying to compose yourself.

“Hey, we can stop if you want…” Nanami says, studying you carefully.

“I-I don’t know. It’s just, almost a year ago I met a guy. I loved him, I saw a future with him. But something bad happened and he’s, well, he’s in jail now. For ten years. We made it official and then twelve hours later, bam! Arrested. He didn’t want me to wait for him, so I’m trying to honor his wishes…” you start to spill everything while Nanami just listens, not interrupting. Your face heats up in embarrassment as you spew all of this at a stranger.

“I just feel guilty for enjoying this with you. And I wouldn’t want this to have any emotional meaning, just sex. Because I love him, and I don’t think I’ll ever love you, or anyone else right now. But I feel like I should at least try. And you seem so kind and respectful, but I don’t want you to feel used or taken advantage of,” you say, looking back at him. You have no idea what kind of response you are going to get, putting yourself in his shoes you can’t imagine what you’d say. Holy baggage.

“Wow, that’s a lot. Are you okay? Not just physically, but in general?” Nanami asks, the sympathy in his eyes is apparent.

“I’m as okay as I can be,” you respond. “It’s been almost a year so I’ve kinda accepted it.”

“I see. Well I’m sorry that happened to you, that must be so incredibly hard. I can’t imagine being in that situation and I bet there’s only a very small population of people who could truly understand what you are going through. If it’s just sex you want, I can respect that, and I won’t judge you. Truthfully, I’m not looking for anything serious either right now. I can assure you I won’t try to take you from him or sway your feelings if all you are looking for is some physical relief. But maybe you should take a bit to see if this is what you really want. I’m not sure what it’s like communicating with someone inside prison, but maybe talk to him, and if he’s okay with it, we can try again,” Nanami says, clasping your hands between his and pulling them to his lips.

Tears begin to prick at your eyes as you absorb his words. This guy was so caring and you’d only known him for a few hours.

“I’m so sorry, this can’t be what you had in mind for tonight,” you chuckle as you wipe your eyes repeatedly.

“I still had a good time regardless and worst case, I met a nice person who I could see being friends with. Life happens,” Nanami smiles, rubbing your back before going to fetch your coat from the closet.

Sukuna said he would call you in the letter you left at home. You’ll ask him one more time what he wants, and if he gives you some bullshit answer, then you’ll go back to Nanami.

An hour later you are home, more confused than ever. Thank god Nanami was a good man, you both knew you would regret going further and decided to pause everything. You take Sukuna’s letter to your room and read it again. This time you realized your fists were clenched around the paper, wrinkling it from the way your fingertips twisted the delicate material.

You were pissed. You’d been nothing but honest with Sukuna that last day, seeing him in person about wanting to stay loyal to him, but he couldn’t grant you the same. Instead he seemed to be dancing around the topic which resulted in this train wreck of a night. If he were here right now you’d slap the tattoos right off his jawline and demand him tell you how he really felt.

It’s the least he could do, he wasn’t the only one with a mental state on the decline.

10 months

“This is a collect call from an inmate at the Southeastern Regional Jail, press 7 to accept.”

At 9AM you received a call from an unknown number and you were shocked to hear this.

You sat there staring at first, unsure if you wanted to answer. All your pent up anger from the other night suddenly evaporated and fear was the only thing left.

The prompt played 2 more times before you finally smashed the 7 button.

“Hello?”

“Oh thank god you picked up,” Sukuna’s voice answers on the other line. Your breath hitches as his deep tone reverberates through your ear. You exhale loudly, not realizing you were holding your breath. Briefly you mute the phone as you try to control your breathing, trying to take deep breaths and calm yourself.

“Are you there? Hello?” Sukuna says your name almost frantically while you are trying to regain your composure.

“I’m here, sorry, I just can’t believe it’s really you. I haven’t heard your voice in so long,” your voice cracks as you hold back a sob. This is all you’ve wanted this entire time, not realizing finally hearing him would affect you this way.

“It’s okay. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” he continues, sighing audibly.

“Well I have an earful to give you as well Sukuna, but why don’t you go first.”

“What? Why am I getting an earful?!” his whiny voice responds with a tinge of fear.

You just sit silently for now, taking everything in you to not just explode at him.

“I know I deserve it, I just didn’t know you felt so strongly and it makes me feel worse,” he continues.

“Enough of the cryptic shit Sukuna, I have no idea what you are talking about,” you start crying.

“Okay okay, I’m here. Please just say what you need to say,” Sukuna’s voice deepens as if he’s trying to contain his emotions now.

“Do you want to be with me Sukuna? Like, actually want to be committed to each other? Only each other? And don’t give me any of this bullshit like ‘yes I do, but blah blah’. It’s yes or no. Enough beating around the bush,” you say sternly.

“Fuck you’re scaring me, where is this coming from?” he pauses before speaking.

“I went out with another guy the other night and started to have sex with him, Sukuna. That’s what this is about, this is what it’s come to.”

“Shit…ahhh shit! Fuck!” Sukuna curses before going totally silent. Everything in you wants to apologize but you hold your ground. You refuse to apologize for this.

“Wh-wh-what do you mean started to? What does that mean? Oh god I don’t know what to say…” his voice stutters and cracks, registering the pain in his words.

“I told you point blank at the prison that I wanted to be loyal to you, but you shut me down and left it ambiguous. You told me you didn’t want me to wait for you, you told me you wanted me to try and move on, to see other people. So I tried Sukuna. I tried the other day. But we stopped because I still love you. How can I fuck someone else when you’re all I want?” you start crying, forcing out the words as best you can. “Y-you seem like you don’t want that with me though. You don’t want to talk to me, don’t want to see me, made it seem like you didn’t care if I strayed from you. So I’ll ask you again, do you actually want to be with me?” you say through a combination of sobs and hiccups.

“Oh my god, yes! That’s why I called you!” his pitch is higher as his voice cracks again. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Fuck! The truth is I don’t want you to be with anyone else! I’m sorry I wasn’t honest. I want to be together, I want to be loyal to each other. God willing you do too, but I don’t blame you if you don’t want that.

“Listen, I - ah - fucked up. Real bad. I don’t know why I wasn’t honest back then, it was shitty of me. I don’t hold it against you for going out with someone and going however far you did, I don’t wanna know specifics so please don’t tell me. It is what it is. I never meant to put you in this position, I thought I was doing the right thing, but I realized I wasn’t and I love you more than anything. It was manipulative, I didn’t give you a direct answer and because of that, you had no agency in this, and that’s not okay.” he says through sniffles as his voice gets harsh with emotion.

“Then why did you say those things?” you say through choked back tears.

He sighs again and you can hear him crying in the background before trying to speak again.

“I just felt so guilty. Felt like a shitty man to put you in this situation after promising you the fucking world. I didn’t want you to feel trapped, but I didn’t even listen to how you felt. It was selfish. I understand if you hate me-“

“You’re right I do fucking hate you,” you interupt him. “If I could pull you down by your stupid pink hair and slap your stupid jaw tattoos around and knock some sense into you I would.

“I hate that you made me fall in love with you, that you’re the first thing I think of when I wake up and the last thing I see when I go to sleep. I hate when I wake up and you weren’t in my dreams, the one place where you and I can actually feel real right now because you refuse to fucking interact with me. I hate that I need to wait for you. I waited my whole life to find you and now I need to wait even longer,” you ramble on, crying into your pillow and twisting your nails into your sheets.

“I hate that I can’t hear your laugh, can’t see your stupid goofy smile, can’t feel your soft touch. Fuck Sukuna I hate all of this. But I hate the thought of anyone else even more, so your godforsaken ass is worth the wait. I’ve already done it once,” you say with a humorless laugh, mouth dry and scratchy, eyes burning as you pour everything out into the open, holding your breath as you wait for his response.

He’s silent and unresponsive. Fearing the call dropped, you were about to lose it if he didn’t hear anything you said.

“Hello?”

“I’m here sweetheart. You really mean all that?”

“What the fuck, of course I did. Boy I swear I would beat your ass if you were here, dense ass motherfucking-”

“I’m sure you didn’t mean that to be romantic at all, but I’m at a loss for words,” he interrupts with a chuckle. What you don’t know is now he’s leaning against the concrete prison wall, biting his tongue and looking all giddy as he tries to replay everything you just said over and over in his mind.

“You think this is funny?” you lash out again. Holy shit this man is testing your patience.

“Kinda yeah. I’m just such a fucking idiot, I’m laughing at my asinine behaviour. I’m so relieved though to hear you say those things. You really love me huh?” he says and you are sure he’s fighting back the biggest grin.

“You’re smiling right now aren’t you?” you say more calmly than before.

“Yup, got a big ole smirk on my face. And crying. You make me happy. It’s happy tears.”

“You make me happy too. And insane. But also insanely happy, even from a concrete cell,” you feel a laugh escape your lips.

“Fuck, wish I could scoop you up and fucking break your little bones from hugging you so hard,” his voice is more husky and even now.

“Um ouch? A little violent don’t you think?”

“I don’t mean it literally. Just that I wish I could be close to you. It’ll be worth it though. One day.”

“Yes it will. Can you actually call me from now on? Also what’s this about wanting to try for a baby when you get out? When did I ever say I wanted one?” you blurt out, remembering that insane part of his last letter.

“Yes I will call. I can’t call often, maybe once a week at most. It’s pricey and I wanna have money left for me when I get out…well for us.

“And yeah, about that. See my cellmate got his girl pregnant right before he got put in here and he got me all paranoid since I busted in you about six times that night. But then I was like well if we are mid to late thirties when I get out, better get to it since time isn’t on our side”

You burst out laughing but feel your heart swell at his words picturing little pink haired terrors running around his house.

“Well you need to get your degrees and trades or whatever in order. I’m not footing the bill for all of us because for some reason I don’t see you being able to keep your hands off of me to stop at just one,” you tease.

“Oh please, don’t act all high and mighty. I saw you that night, begging to take every last drop-“

“Oh my god can people hear you?!” you squeal, interrupting him.

“Um, darling it’s a bunch of dudes locked up in here with no females to be found. You just get used to being shameless after a while. Like when we are done here I’m gonna go tell Gojo to look the other way while I jerk off.”

You practically choke on your own saliva. What the actual fuck?

“Uh, wow, okay. That’s pretty wild Sukuna not gonna lie.”

“I do the same for him after he’s talked to his girl. He owes me, horny little fuck,” Sukuna scoffs.

“Oh, the call is gonna end in a few minutes. I’ll try to call you every other week on Saturdays around this same time. Sound good?” Sukuna changes the topic as the warning sound chimes over the phone.

“That sounds good. Keep writing too. I like it, it’s special and I look forward to it,” you respond, feeling the weight that was heavy on your heart start to feel a little lighter.

“Of course I will. Anything for you. I love you. So so soooooo muuuuuch,” he says in that whiny voice of his that just makes you smile and shake your head. He’s your whiny Kuna though and you love it.

“I love you too Kuna, talk to you later.”

The call ends and the tears come again. Except this time they’re tears of joy. Relief. Filled with hope for what’s to come. Almost a year down with so much more to go, but at least now you know where you stand. Plus now you have calls to look forward to as you inch your way closer to being reunited.

<< Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 >>

Masterlist

taglist: @clp-84 @zeunys @aquaberrydolphin @nynxtea @yuujispinkhair @ssc7514 @sukubusss @scorpiosugar @kiixonmm @xlilycoco

#sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk smut #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna ryomen #sukuna x y/n #jjk sukuna #sukuna jjk #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk angst

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fairytaleendingss · 6 months ago

Text

Room for One More?

Chapter 6

Summary: You aren't sure what gift to get for your Secret Santa.

CW: Swearing.

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Here's a bit of a long one for you guys! Enjoy!

"Fuck!"

You were laying in bed, nestled under your softest duvet, looking in horror at your laptop screen.

It was just after 7am and you weren't sure how many of the boys would be up at this time, especially on a weekend. You knew Sirius had a gig the previous night and he liked a sleep in, but this was kind of an emergency.

Since living with the boys and becoming friends with Mary, you were slowly being integrated into their friend group. You didn't mind of course. In fact, you liked having people to hang out with since moving to the city. Everyone was so lovely and inclusive and you really liked being part of a group. However, that meant that not only were the four of you hosting their annual Christmas party, but you were roped into participating in their Secret Santa as well.

Upon waking up that morning, you'd received a message from Mary, letting you know that the Secret Santa assignments had been sent out the night prior. You'd checked your emails, only to realize you were severely fucked.

The name of your draw was none other than Dorcas.

Now, it wasn't her in particular you had a problem with. In fact, quite the contrary. You liked Dorcas. She was cool and funny and had amazing style.

Your problem resided in the fact that you'd only met her maybe four times over the month you'd been living with the boys and she wasn't a particularly open person. You had no clue what kind of gift she would like.

"No. You know what? This is fine," you told yourself, throwing your blanket off and marching out of your room.

You weren't surprised to see that the living room was empty. You did notice that James' running shoes were not in the stand by the door, which meant he was probably out for a morning jog (in the freezing cold like a crazy person).

With a huff you wandered down the hall. You bypassed Remus' room, during which you were sure you could hear the clicking of a keyboard. You came to a halt in front of Sirius' door, preparing yourself for an onslaught as you hesitantly reached out to knock.

"What?" a sleep-garbled voice muttered lowly from beyond the door.

Gently you pushed it open, a sheepish smile painting your lips as you peered into the room.

Sirius was laying on his stomach in bed, blanket splayed lazily over his hip bone and an arm squashed beneath his pillow. He was shirtless and you couldn't help but let your eyes trace the contours of his bare back. His face was pressed against the pillow, eyes closed, lashes fluttering against his cheeks and long, dark hair splayed across his face.

Even in the early hours of the morning, still riddled with the remnants of sleep, he looked like a work of art.

"Hey!" you muttered softly, feeling slightly guilty now for disturbing him.

He sighed thickly, rolling over to squint at your through half lidded eyes. "Is everything okay?"

His voice was deep and croaky like it always was after he woke up but it never failed to send a shiver down your spine.

"I need your help with something."

He frowned slightly, blinking as if still trying to regain awareness. "Sure. Come in."

He patted the bed beside him and your eyes widened. You approached cautiously and sat down tentatively on the edge. You looked around the room. It was encased in darkness with the blinds half drawn shut. You hadn't been in her all that often. Come to think of it, you'd never really made it past the doorway before.

The bedsheets were dark grey to match with the black furniture that was placed around. There was a guitar on a stand in the corner and the walls were adorned with band posters and what were clearly centerfolds torn from various bikini magazines.

You cleared your throat as you perched yourself awkwardly, not wanting to encroach on his space.

He chuckled softly. "Come on, doll. I don't bite."

"Somehow, I find that hard to believe," you teased softly as you moved to position yourself back against the pillow beside him.

He let out a throaty laugh and rolled over to face you, leaning up on an elbow.

"So, what was so important that you had to wake me up at the crack of dawn for?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," you chuckled nervously. Sirius always seemed to have that effect on you. "I, um, don't suppose you've had a chance to look at your Secret Santa draw yet?"

He raised a brow. "No I can't say that I have."

"Well, I looked at mine this morning and I need your help picking out a present. I got-"

"Hey! No!" he cut you off. "You're not supposed to tell me! That's the rules."

You gave him a pleading look. "I know but I really don't know this person that well and I thought you could help me pick a gift for them."

"No! Nope!" He shook his head firmly. "If I know who you got, and I know who I got, it won't be hard to figure out the rest and I definitely don't want to know who got me!"

"Come on Sirius! Please??" You pleaded with him.

"No. Sorry, I can't help you."

"Please! it was just-"

"Lalalalalalala."

You raised a brow as he put his fingers in his ears, interrupting you the way a child would.

"Wow, Sirius. Very mature," you deadpanned.

"Sorry! Can't hear you," he shrugged.

You rolled your eyes, getting up of the bed.

"Ugh, you're no help," you groaned. You exited his room and wandered back out towards the kitchen, plopping yourself down at a bar stool.

If by some magical miracle of timing, it was right then that the door swung open and James entered the apartment. He was sweaty and wearing a long-sleeved, skin tight, running shirt that clung to his skin, giving you a very direct view of his abs. You couldn't help but admire him for a moment as he took off his joggers.

"Hey love! You're up early for a Saturday."

"Well, at least I'm not a maniac that goes for a morning jog when it's snowing outside!" you rebutted.

He chuckled deeply. "Gotta keep myself in shape somehow."

You just smiled as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.

"So what are you doing up so early?" He questioned, leaning back against the counter and taking a long sip.

"Well, I've found myself in a bit of a... situation."

He quirked a brow. "Do tell."

"I checked my Secret Santa assignment this morning and I kind of got someone I have no idea what to buy for."

"That does seem like a bit of an issue," he noted playfully.

"Do you think you'd be able to help me? Sirius said no," you asked bashfully.

He smirked. "Of course, love. Although I am a bit offended, you didn't come to me first!"

You rolled your eyes affectionately. " I would've if you were actually here and not out trying to give yourself hypothermia."

He chuckled once more. "Touché."

The mall was crowded with it only being a few days out from Christmas. You had hoped that Mary would've left a little more than a day for you to purchase your gift before the party tomorrow, but in true Mary fashion, she'd gotten distracted with a final project at work and had forgotten to do the draw earlier.

You looked up at James who stood beside you. "So what kind of stuff do you think Dorcas would like?"

He furrowed his brows thinking for a moment. "She likes painting. And I know she works out a lot."

You sighed. "Okay, I can work with that. Come on."

You grabbed him by the arm and dragged him through the masses of people.

You were walking around an expensive homewares shop and hour later, still yet to find the perfect gift for Dorcas. You picked up a ceramic elephant and examined it. You swiftly placed it back down when you noticed the price.

"Hey? Do you think Mary would like this?" James called from across the store.

He was holding up a pretty crystal vase.

You turned away from what you were looking at. "Didn't you already buy her a coffee mug and an eyeshadow palette?"

"Yeah but this is so pretty! I think she'd really like it."

You shook your head. "James, you are aware that there's a £30 spending limit, right?"

He sighed dramatically. "I know but I there's just so much good stuff here!"

You chuckled. You knew he was already way over the limit anyway, money clearly not being an issue for James. You felt the need to intervene before he bought her the whole store.

"I love the enthusiasm but sometimes smaller is better, okay? You don't want to upstage everyone else."

He huffed and placed the vase back on the shelf. "Okay, fine."

"Good. Now, you're supposed to be helping me find my gift," you reminded him.

"Yeah, right. Okay."

He was pouting like a little kid and you reached a hand up to ruffle his hair affectionately. "I'm sure you'll be fine with what you have, James. Mary is going to love it. Now come on, lets try somewhere else."

You left that store and continued wandering through the mall. You looked up at the Christmas decorations that lined the rows of shops, and the people running too and frow, trying to finish their last minute Christmas shopping. You always loved the atmosphere at this time of year, when the festive spirit was running high, and you knew for a fact that James felt the same. Your gaze drifted over to the man walking beside you as his eyes scanned the rows of shops, He had number of bags in hand, all containing gifts for his loved ones. The thought made you feel giddy and a soft smile graced your face. You didn't think you'd ever met someone as generous and thoughtful as James was.

"What about over there?" He pulled you from your thoughts as he pointed to an art shop that was a few metres away.

"It's worth a try," you replied.

The shop was rather large, you realised upon entry, filled with various paintings, canvases and art supplies, ranging from reasonably priced to vastly expensive.

You felt a little overwhelmed, looking around at all the items.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" a voice emerged from behind you. You turned to see a young woman, probably a few years older than the two of you. She was smiling kindly, her long blonde hair pulled into a neat ponytail.

"Yes actually," you stated. "I'm looking for a Christmas present for a friend. I know she likes to paint but you have so many things in here, I'm not sure where to start."

"Not to worry," she said kindly. "Lets see if it can point you in the right direction."

You followed the lady through the shop, assessing various items and trying to find something that both jumped out at you, but was also within your assigned budget.

"What about this?" She asked eventually. "It's very popular with people who come in. In fact, I think this might be our last one."

It was a set of paintbrushes in a wooden case, each with a different coloured handle and varied in size.

"I'm sure your friend already has her own set of brushes but these ones come with portable case. Great for someone who likes to paint in different locations."

"it's perfect," you told her. You looked at the price. It was £30 exactly.

You snatched up the item and headed towards the counter to pay. It was then that you realised James was missing.

You paid for the item and once you had it secured in your possession, you looked around the shop in search of him.

"Sorry, have you seen my friend?" You asked the lady that was serving you.

"No, I haven't. Sorry," she shook her head.

"That's alright. He seems to have wandered off."

You took your bag and walked back through the aisles, searching. You wondered how such a tall, burly man was able to disappear so easily.

It was the Christmas section of the shop that you found him in. You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you when you saw him.

"James! What on earth?"

He smiled at you sheepishly. He was wrapped up in tinsel like a Christmas tree.

"I'm sorry. It's just so pretty. I didn't have enough hands! I slung it over my arm to carry it to the counter but then it got all tangled. I think I might be stuck."

"Can't take you anywhere!" you told him, playfully. "Here let me help."

Slowly you managed to uncoil the ribbon from around his biceps and place it back on the shelf it came from.

"I think we should probably stay away from tinsel for now."

"You're probably right," he chuckled. "So did you find something for Dorcas in the end?"

You looked up at him, staring into his big hazel eyes.

"Yeah, I did."

He smiled that ridiculously charming smile of his.

"Good. Now lets get out of here before I accidentally destroy the place."

You giggled as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, guiding you out of the shop.

You were on your way out of the mall when you stopped dead in your tracks.

"Oh my god," you sighed whistfully.

In a shop window, on display as part of a Christmas themed clothing line, was probably the most beautiful dress you'd ever seen. It was thigh-length with a square neckline and adorned with gold glitter that twinkled in the light. It was breathtaking.

"That's beautiful," James stated, coming to stand beside you.

"It really is," you responded.

"You should try it on!"

"Oh no. I don't think they'd have it in my size."

"I'm sure they do!" James encouraged. "Come on, lets go in."

Before you had time to respond, James had taken you by the hand and was pulling you through the doorway into the shop.

"Excuse me," he called to the assistant that stood behind the counter. "My friend would like to try on the gold dress in the window. Do you think you'd have it in her size?"

"Certainly," the lady replied with a smile. "Right this way."

You stood in the change-room, staring at yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, the dress looked amazing on you. It hugged all your curves perfectly.

"Can I see it?" you heard James call from outside the closed curtain.

"Okay," you responded.

You took a deep breath. Why were you suddenly so nervous?

With a shaky hand you drew back the curtain and James' jaw all but dropped to the floor.

"Oh my god," he muttered, eyes wide behind his glasses.

"Do you like it?" you asked shyly.

"You look incredible, y/n! Give me a spin."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you spun around awkwardly. You weren't used to this kind of attention. Especially not from a man as utterly gorgeous as James.

"You should get it!"

You smiled but shook your head. "It's beautiful but it's unfortunately wayyy out of my budget."

"Okay, no problem. I'll get it for you!"

Your head snapped up to look at him. "What? No. I can't ask you to do that, James."

He just smiled. "You're not asking. I'm offering. And it would be a tragedy not to buy it! Not when you look like that."

"Are you sure?" you muttered. You could feel your cheeks growing hot.

"Absolutely."

He stood up abruptly, walking over and placing a kiss on your cheek. You felt your breath leave your body at the gesture.

"Now go get changed while I pay," he instructed.

You looked up at him, feeling electricity buzz against your skin where his hand sat on your waist. You nodded, sure that if you tried to speak in that moment, nothing would come out. He had literally left you speechless.

Then he pulled away, venturing across the shop to pay for your new dress. You let out a heavy sigh as you watched him. It's official, you realised.

You were doomed.

Taglist:

@hisparentsgallerryy @navs-bhat @shushbruv @magicwithaknife @eeviee4 @notapoetjustscar @gugggu6gvai @robertsmithclone @ilovesugurugeto69 @taytayy178 @its-notkiee @bugworldsworld @switchingfandomslikecrazy @evangelquill

#marauders #james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #poly!marauders x reader #marauders au

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spellbound-rosehearts · 2 months ago

Text

TEXTBOOKS AND TENSION : CHAPTER 3

yuu’s deal with leona is no longer a secret, and her friends have many questions.

pairings: leona kingscholar x yuu

warnings: none

notes: another chapter for you guys! i hope you’re enjoying and excited for the rest to come!

part 1, 2, 4

yuu sat cross-legged at the battered coffee table, spreading out her notes and textbooks, trying to mentally prepare for an afternoon of group work. the place was even more drafty than usual, the wind blowing hard outside, but she had piled up blankets, put out a tray of snacks and brewed extra tea, hoping it would be enough.

grim, who had been eyeing the snacks since she set them out, was already sneaking a handful of chips. his tiny paws grabbed at the pile with an alarming speed.

"grim!" yuu scolded, glaring at him over her notes. "i told you to wait until everyone gets here. you can't just eat all the snacks!"

grim swallowed his mouthful of chips and grinned at her, his whiskers twitching. "they’re good! you can't expect me to resist when there's food this tasty."

“you’re going to give yourself a stomach-ache at this rate,” yuu sighed, giving him a pointed look. "at least save a few for ace and deuce." grim just snickered and shoveled more chips into his mouth.

across the room, leona was stretched out on the old, creaky couch. he wasn’t napping for once. instead, his eyes were flicking back and forth between the papers he was scribbling on and the spelldrive team’s playbook in his hands. but every so often, his sharp eyes would glance up to where yuu was sitting. he wasn’t exactly paying full attention, but there was a watchful air about him, like he couldn’t help but absorb whatever was happening in the room around him. just his instincts, maybe.

yuu caught one of his glances and narrowed her eyes. she was trying to read through a dense section of her notes, and despite how much she was concentrating, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was paying far too much attention to her.

“you could at least pretend to be busy,” she said dryly, breaking the silence.

leona’s lips twitched into a half-smile, then he looked back down to his scribbled notes. “pretending? i am busy,” he drawled. “i’m planning a game strategy, not slaving over some stupid schoolwork.”

yuu let out a soft laugh. “at least i’m doing my stupid schoolwork,” she said, raising an eyebrow playfully. “you know, the thing that actually keeps you enrolled here.”

“and what’s your point, herbivore?” leona glanced up from the playbook, giving her a pointed look. “don’t act like you’re any better. i’ve seen how you’ve been glancing at that paper without actually doing anything.”

yuu huffed, half amused, half annoyed. “you’re impossible.”

he grinned. “and you’re too serious. you should take a lesson in relaxation. i happen to be an expert in that category.”

yuu shot him a side-eye and returned to her work, muttering, “i’ll relax once i actually finish this.”

before she could say more, there was a loud, impatient knock at the door.

“they’re here!” grim shouted, running to the door.

yuu scrambled up, smoothing down her sweater as she crossed the room. when she opened the door, ace and deuce stood there, backpacks slung over their shoulders, looking a little wind blown.

“hey, hey, we brought you some hot chocolate!” ace declared, handing her a steaming cup like he was presenting a treasure.

deuce took a swig of his own cup, and then gave her a more sincere smile. “got the research notes you asked for, too.”

“hot chocolate? gimme some of that!” grim yelled up at them, eyes sparkling with excitement.

deuce looked down at him, crossing his arms. “sorry, grim, cats can’t have chocolate.”

grim huffed, his tail flicking. “but i’m a special kind of cat!”

yuu couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking her head. “no hot chocolate for you. but if you actually pull your weight on this project, maybe i’ll get you some tuna later.”

grim’s ears flattened as he muttered under his breath, but the promise of tuna seemed to get him moving, and he reluctantly turned to walk over to the table, grumbling about the injustice of it all.

yuu stepped aside to let the two boys in, but the moment they entered, they both slowed, staring past her into the living room.

at leona.

sitting there.

causally sprawled out on the couch like it was his house.

the silence hung awkwardly for a beat.

ace rubbed his eyes and squinted, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “is… that leona kingscholar?”

“maybe we’re in the wrong building?” deuce suggested, shifting uneasily on his feet.

ace leaned in toward her, lowering his voice like leona couldn’t clearly hear him from six feet away. “yuu. blink twice if he’s holding you hostage.”

leona flicked his gaze up at them and yawned before dropping his eyes back to the page.

yuu stifled a laugh. “he’s not holding me hostage, you guys. he’s just… here.”

ace gave her a look. “just here? seriously?”

grim, who had been listening intently, snickered from his spot on the floor. “yeah, ‘just here.’ he’s always here.” he flicked his tail in leona’s direction, eyes narrowed with sarcasm. “at this point we need to start charging rent.”

leona didn’t even blink, just stayed focused on his papers with that trademark lazy smirk.

deuce looked baffled. “you… you’re letting him hang out here?”

“it’s complicated,” yuu muttered, walking back toward the couch and starting to clear space for their group project. “we have an…arrangement. he needed somewhere to get away from savanaclaw sometimes, and i owed him a favor. so he’s allowed to crash here.”

leona finally looked up and scoffed, but it sounded more amused than irritated. “yeah, i needed a place to crash. had no idea it would come with a tutoring job.”

“you make it sound like it’s some horrible deal,” yuu said, rolling her eyes as she straightened a stack of papers. “you get a place to escape your responsibilities and i get some help with my schoolwork every now and then. seems pretty fair to me.”

deuce looked between the two of them as they bantered, still a little confused. "well, i guess that makes sense. you’re both... helping each other out." he gave yuu a warm, sincere smile. "and if you're getting help with your schoolwork, that's pretty nice of him."

ace plopped onto the floor, crossing his legs like a kid. “man. you could have asked for any favor and you decided to willingly crash here?“

deuce immediately frowned he nudged ace with his elbow. “don’t be rude! ramshackle’s… a little rough, yeah, but it’s still yuu’s home.“ he shot yuu an apologetic smile.

grim snorted, stuffing a pawful of chips into his mouth. “a little rough is an understatement! we’ve been placing bets on how long until the roof falls in on us!”

yuu gave a small laugh, setting down her cup of hot chocolate. “no, that’s fair. ramshackle dorm’s not exactly five-star living.”

“tch, maybe not,” leona finally spoke up, tossing the papers he’d been scribbling on onto the floor with a lazy flick of his wrist. he shifted, slinging an arm over his eyes as he stretched out fully on the couch. “but the good thing about this dump? no one comes botherin’ me here. it’s quiet, peaceful…even the ghosts mind their business. i like it that way.”

ace made a judgmental face and looked over to yuu, but she just huffed a laugh under her breath, strangely warmed by the comment.

deuce started unzipping his backpack, pulling out a notebook. “it’s kind of weird though, right?” he asked a little more quietly. “you two being…friends?”

yuu faltered slightly at the word, glancing instinctively toward the couch where leona lounged, utterly relaxed, as if he hadn’t heard. but she knew better.

friends?

she wasn’t sure that’s what they were. not exactly. he didn’t talk much. he teased her sometimes, in his dry, sarcastic way. but he showed up. he helped her without hesitation. he listened, when it really mattered.

it was something.

“i guess,” she said simply, but her cheeks flushed pink.

ace pulled a pencil out of his bag, grinning. “it’s cool. unexpected. like you feed a stray once and next thing you know, you’ve adopted a lazy housecat.”

“watch it,” leona’s deep voice drifted from the couch without lifting his arm.

ace chuckled and leaned back, glancing at grim. “that’s how yuu got stuck with grim too.”

grim’s ears flattened, and he shot a glare at ace. “excuse you! i’m not some stray- i’m practically royalty around here! yuu’s my hench-human y’know!”

deuce cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly trying not to laugh. “uh, anyway, project time?”

yuu nodded quickly, grateful to get back to focusing on their work.

they spread out papers and started planning, sketching diagrams, debating answers. every so often, yuu caught leona peeking an eye open to glance at them, sharp and assessing, but he didn’t intervene.

it wasn’t until ace and grim started arguing that leona broke his silence.

“you’re both wrong,” leona said, not opening his eyes.

ace blinked. “excuse me, professor?”

leona turned his head, lifting his arm just enough to shoot him a dry look. “wrong. it’s second law. not first, not third. you’re mixing up your fundamentals.”

deuce double-checked his notes and winced. “… he’s right.”

grim bristled, puffing out his chest. “i was closer than you, ace!”

“yeah, yeah,” ace muttered, slouching in defeat. “guess the lazy housecat knows a thing or two after all.”

leona smirked, dropping his arm back over his eyes like he couldn’t be bothered anymore. “you’re welcome, by the way.”

yuu just shook her head fondly and went back to her work, hiding her smile behind her hand.

as the hours dragged by, the sun set and the project continued, yuu had caught herself glancing at leona more than once. despite his usual indifference, he stayed, eyes half-lidded, occasionally making a sarcastic comment or two, but never actually leaving. he would help them every once in a while, tossing in advice when they got stuck, correcting their mistakes with the same laid-back tone.

he had no real reason to be there, no need to stick around, but he did. and yuu couldn't help but feel that maybe-just maybe-this odd, reluctant bond they shared was something more than just an arrangement. leona’s presence felt like it was becoming a quiet part of her routine, something that was comfortable, and yuu didn’t mind it as much as she thought she would.

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stevie-petey · 11 months ago

Text

episode nine: the good

Soon it’s just you and Steve. You work around one another, anticipating each other’s next move, never getting in the way. Soft music plays from the record player that sits in the den. Steve puts on one of his father’s old records, gentle rock and delicate jazz. You hum to yourself, he hums with you, and it’s a peaceful morning. Until Richard and May Harrington walk in. Neither of you notice them at first. Steve is too busy spinning you around, playfully dipping you as the music comes to a grand crescendo. You’re laughing breathlessly, but soon your laughter turns into a yelp when Steve sees his parents standing in the doorway and drops you.

Summary: the party battles the horrors of high school and leave you stranded, tw: applying for college is harder than fighting literal demons (you would know, youve done it), jonathan joins your nightmare blunt rotation, max worries you, and steve solidifies his position of Best Boyfriend in the World as you slowly fall apart (though is anyone really surprised ??).

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: cursing, allusions to previous character death

Words: 11.2k idk how or why i needed to say so much

Before you swing in: we're here !!! FINALLY at the end of season 3 <3333 im so so so excited to present to you the groundwork for what i have planned for season 4 ;) it will be ... a lot. the season is huge, its difficult and scary, and i did my best to try and capture its dread and ominous sense of doom in this chapter. please enjoy and bear with me as i prepare for season 4. unsure when i will be done planning her, but i PROMISE itll be worth it !!

“Are you sure Ms. Bote is nice?”

“Yes.”

“And that Mr. Cune won’t question the hat?”

“Yes, Dustin.”

“And you’re absolutely sure we have lunch together?”

“Yes.” You tighten the straps on your mary janes and give your brother an exasperated look. All morning he’s been freaking out about his first day of high school. You understand his fear, it’s scary starting at a new school, but you’ve answered all his questions a million times by now and Steve is supposed to be here any second. “We need to go, buddy.”

Dustin shoves a pancake into his mouth, wiping his face with the back of his hand in a disgusting manner. “Wait, but what about my backpack–”

“I have it, Dusty!” Your mother walks into the kitchen and hands it to him. She kisses his mess of curls and strokes your cheek. “Are my darlings ready for their first day of school?”

“No.” You and Dustin say at the same time, which your mother frowns at.

Dustin adjusts his backpack and gives you an odd look. “Why are you nervous? It’s not like you’re being blindly thrown into a den of hormonal creatures out for blood. You’re old now, they’ll leave you alone!”

“Trust me, the college admissions process is a worse monster than school bullies.” You grab your own backpack and start heading towards the front door. “I have to start planning what to write, I–I need more clubs, and projects, and–”

The anxiety overwhelms you. It always starts like this: talk about college, you fall down a hole of uncertainty and dread and fear. It’s been like this ever since Jonathan moved away. The minute the Byers moved, you threw yourself into preparing for college. Rationally, you know it’s your poor way of coping with all the sudden change in your life. You don’t need a psychological research journal to tell you that. In a futile attempt to control your future, you’ve become obsessed with college.

New York University, specifically.

Jonathan has always dreamed of attending, and when you met him, it became your dream, too.

“Okay, dear. Settle down, now.” Your mother places a hand on your shoulder and laughs nervously. She has about five seconds before you collapse into a mess of college admissions rambling and despair. “Let’s go outside and find that wonderful Stevie!”

Your body is shoved out the front door alongside Dustin’s. Steve’s car is parked, he stands outside it, arms crossed and a grin on his face. Your body relaxes when you see him, the buzz of anxiety dims. He’s wearing his Family Video vest, the green makes his tanned skin glow.

“She’s doing it again.” Dustin tells him, tossing his backpack into the backseat.

Steve winces. He knows exactly what your brother is referring to. He’s been at the other end of far too many anxious phone calls at three in the morning. “College?”

“Yeah, she almost had a meltdown in the kitchen.”

“I can hear you both, you know.” Though you try to seem fine, keep up the annoyance, you stand next to Steve and rest your head on his shoulder anyways. He wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead.

Steve rubs your arm and makes a sympathetic noise. Your mother, seeing how he holds you, squeals. “Oh, stay just like that, hold on!”

“Mom, what–” But your mother ignores you and runs back inside the house. You look at Dustin, terrified. “She’s not…”

He shakes his head at you. He leans against the car next to you and crosses his arms, mimicking Steve’s earlier stance. “She’s mom. Of course she is.”

“What are you guys talking about–” A flash of light momentarily blinds Steve, and he flinches. “Woah, alright.”

“Smile, kids!” Another camera flash, and your mother coos as you, Steve, and Dustin awkwardly shuffle into frame. It’s not that the three of you dislike being near the other, it’s the fact that it’s seven in the morning and neither you nor Dustin are ready for the day ahead. Steve smiles, though. “That’s it! Everyone say, ‘happy first day of school’!”

A mess of incoherent mumbling follows your mothers command, but she doesn’t let it bother her. She takes a million pictures, preens when she sees Steve smile even wider, and she has to hold back tears. Her babies are all grown up. Dustin is a freshman now, and you’re a senior.

“Alright, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve has to quickly blink, trying to regain his eyesight. He adores the woman, he knows he’s become her favorite, but he really needs to get you to school before his shift at Family Video starts. “I have no doubt you’ve already taken the best picture ever.”

“Aw, just one more–”

“Mom.” Dustin clears his throat, urging her to stop, and she sighs.

Your mother kisses Dustin’s head, then yours, and wishes you a good first day before getting into her own car to drive to work. “Bye, kids!”

You all wave at her, and Steve opens the car door for you. Once you’re seated, he goes to the driver’s side and tells Dustin to get in the back. The engine starts, soft music plays from Steve’s radio, and soon the three of you are driving towards Hawkins high.

“No Robin?” You ask Steve after a few minutes of silence. He’s grown rather close to the girl, working together all summer, so you had expected her to drive with you guys to school. When you and him officially got together, Robin made the two of you promise that you wouldn’t abandon her. It was an irrational fear, you love Robin dearly, but you made sure to spend time with her and Steve equally anyways.

“She has band practice this morning,” Steve responds. “So it’s just me and the Hendersons today.”

Dustin shoves his head in between the two of you. His seatbelt strains against his chest, but he doesn’t care. He’s on a mission to get as much information as he possibly can. He refuses to go into high school blind and pathetic. “Steve, you were once popular.”

“Why the past tense? I mean, I’d consider myself still pretty well liked–”

“I need you to tell me what you did that led to your demise so I can avoid doing the same.”

You snort and Steve sighs. The kid really keeps him humble. He stops at a light, looks at Dustin through the rearview mirror, and shakes his head. “What makes you think it was anything I did?”

“Kid’s got a point,” you say from the passenger seat. Steve gives you an offended look and you raise your hands in surrender. “Hey, all I’m saying is that I also don’t really know what happened. You’ve got a track record of pissing off the wrong people. One minute you were King Steve, the next you were shunned.”

Steve groans. “You people have no faith in me.” He can feel you and Dustin staring at him, unbelieving. He hates when the two of you team up against him; it makes it harder for him to lie. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to tell you what happened. Not because he’s embarrassed, or ashamed, even.

He knows it will only upset you. Reopen wounds.

But you and Dustin keep staring at Steve and there’s still at least ten minutes left of the drive. Weighing his options, Steve figures it’s best if he just tells the truth. Like ripping off a bandaid, knowing the pain will be there regardless of how long you stall. “Okay, fine.” He scratches his nose, clears his throat. “It was, uh. Because of Billy.”

The temperature in the car drops. It’s suddenly ice cold.

Dustin slowly leans back against his seat. Steve faces ahead, eyes on the road, but he watches you from his periphery. No one has mentioned Billy since his death, at least not in front of you or Max.

Especially Max.

They wait for you to react. To tense up, ball your hands into fists and wipe away tears. They expect the guilt you’ve barely kept hidden to resurface, but you don’t do any of that. Instead, you surprise them. “Can’t believe you let a mullet defeat you.”

Steve isn’t sure if he’s allowed to laugh at first, worried it’s some bizarre test of yours. But he sees the smile on your face, albeit forced and terse, but he knows you’re trying. So he plays along, relieved that you’re doing what you can. “I don’t know, I thought the mullet looked pretty good.”

“Get a mullet and see how fast I leave you.”

Dustin nods in agreement, Steve shakes his head with a laugh, and the temperature in the car returns. There’s still a slight chill in the air, there will always be a slight chill, but you pull your jacket tighter around you and ignore it.

When you get to the school, Dustin stares at the hounds of teens all walking through the parking lot. He gulps, tightens his hands around his backpack, and you try to ease his apprehension.

“Hey, look at me.” He does, and you extend your arm, offering a handshake. Dustin eyes you wearily, but reluctantly he shakes your hand. You nod at him, hand firm around his. “It’s just you and me. And Lucas. Max, too. Unfortunately, possibly Mike. Copy?”

“Copy.” Dustin releases your hand and salutes you. He pushes his hat down, takes a deep breath, and unbuckles his seatbelt. “Let’s go.”

“Good luck, little Henderson.” Steve salutes him as well before turning to you. He presses his lips to yours, hums, a soft smile on his face. “And good luck, angel.”

Ignoring Dustin’s dramatic gagging in the back, you squeeze Steve’s hand and smile back at him. “Thanks, honey. Have a good day at work.”

Dustin nearly falls out of the car with how fast he scrambles out of it. He’s about to ban all forms of physical affection between you and Steve. It’s disgusting. No one wants to see any of that. You follow after your brother and exit the car.

You only make it a few feet before Steve rolls down the car window and shouts, “I love you!”

A few students in the parking lot turn, and their faces contort into shock when they see none other than Steve Harrington. He waves at them, cocky as always, and you’re both mortified and so in love. He may have lost his crown, but he will always be the king. While Dustin ducks his head down in embarrassment, you wink at Steve. “I love you, too!”

“You’re going to be the reason I end up getting thrown into a dumpster on my first day.”

“Aw, is Dusty-bun jealous?”

“Go die.”

–

The entire day it feels like you’re missing something.

When you get to homeroom, there isn’t a seat saved for you at the front. When the physics teacher drops his chalk five times within the first five minutes, there isn’t anyone to tease you for your poorly contained snicker. In the library, you’re forced to sit in a corner because there’s no one to share the plush sofa with.

There’s no one who whispers answers to you during calculus. No one who hooks their foot around your desk’s leg. No one who doodles in your notebook just to get you to laugh.

Jonathan’s absence is palpable.

You knew it would feel weird, starting senior year without him, but you didn’t think it’d feel so lonely, either. Empty. Unfinished.

By the time lunch comes, you’re slowly losing your mind. You need someone to talk to. Robin and Nancy don’t share any classes with you, Jonathan had been your only real friend at Hawkins, and now you’re paying the price.

You’re the first one at the lunch table, which you figure is a good thing. Earlier in the week you and the party had all agreed to sit together at lunch, you’d been excited to finally share the same school building as them. However, you hadn’t wanted to hover over them. You wanted them to branch out, meet new people, so lunch was your agreed upon time with them.

The lunch room fills with students and you wait anxiously for the rest of the party. You’re excited to see them, ask how their days are going, maybe even gossip about the freshmen, but when they arrive it’s almost as if a tornado rips right through you.

“There you are!” Dustin finds you first and slides into the seat next to you, nearly causing you to face plant into the ground. “Look, we gotta talk.”

You frown. “Okay, is everything–”

“We can’t stay and eat.” Mike cuts to the chase, not even bothering to sit down. Lucas stands behind him, quiet and nervous.

“What, why?”

“Eddie Munson wants to meet us.” Dustin says the boy’s name as if you should know him. But you don’t, and now you’re really confused. What does he have to do with any of this?

“Eddie…?”

Mike rolls his eyes at you. “Eddie Munson, Hellfire club, DnD?” When he sees that nothing he’s saying makes any sense to you, he huffs. “Seriously, do you not know anything?”

You throw a chip at him, hurt. “I was in choir, not some stupid DnD club.”

“Hellfire club isn’t stupid–”

“Anyways!” Dustin cuts the fight short. There isn’t time for you and Mike to argue right now. “Eddie is the dungeon master, and he’s recruiting us to join his party! We–we gotta go and meet him, Y/N. He doesn’t just let plebe freshmen like us join.”

“He’s legendary.” Mike says, and sadly you know he means it. It’s not often someone has the boy’s full admiration. Mike is hard to impress, and this Eddie guy seems to have him wrapped around his finger already.

Dustin stares up at you, eyes pleading to understand, and you know you can’t ruin this for him. Only hours ago he had been terrified of his first day, and now he’s almost vibrating with excitement over the possibility of joining some club. There will be people there like him, others interested in what he loves, and you can’t let your own loneliness ruin that.

“Well,” you clear your throat, try to appear excited for the boys. “Go see Eddie, then.”

“You sure?” Dustin doesn’t want to just leave, he knows you were looking forward to lunch today. He’ll stay if you need him to, he’s sure Mike can talk his way in with Eddie.

You smile at him, force your voice to be light. They’re growing up. You all are. “I’m sure, it’s your first day. You’re supposed to be joining a bunch of clubs, it’s a good way to make friends. I’m proud of you. Seriously.”

Dustin isn’t entirely convinced, but Mike has already grabbed his arm to go and find Eddie. He turns to Lucas, beckons him to follow. “C’mon, dude.”

“I’ll-uh. Follow in a sec.” Mike gives him an odd look, but Lucas is already sitting down next to you. Seeing this, Mike gives up and leaves with Dustin. As soon as they’re gone, Lucas lowers his voice and leans in close to you. “Hey, do you, uh. Know Jason Carver?”

The scent of chocolate ice cream infiltrates your nose, the sound of it colliding into the teen’s pants rings in your ears. The memory of it is tangible, and you have to hold back a laugh. Yeah, you know Jason Carver. “I mean, we aren’t friends, but we know each other. Why?”

“Do you…” Lucas looks around, making sure Mike and Dustin really are gone, before he continues. “Do you think he’d let me join the basketball team?”

You’re surprised. Sure, Lucas has always shown an interest in the sport. He plays with Steve sometimes, they trade cards, but you didn’t think he’d be interested in the school’s team. “Oh.” Then, you realize why he’s stayed behind. “You don’t want to join Hellfire, do you?”

“I know I’m just a freshman, and–and Mike would probably call me dumb for wanting to even try out, but. I don’t know. I think… I think I could be really good on the team. Might make high school easier.”

“Then you should go for it,” you reassure Lucas. He’s always been so careful to not upset others. He’s loyal, down to his very core, you understand the fear that doing something for yourself brings. “Jason isn’t so bad. A bit much, but kind. He’s a team player, and I think they'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

Lucas smiles shyly at you. “Really?”

“Really. Now, go and find the guy. Ask him when try-outs are, and I’ll talk to Steve about practicing more with you. How’s that sound?”

“You’re the best!” Lucas gives you a quick hug, already getting out of his seat, and runs right into Max. They collide, he manages to save her from falling, and he laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, you okay?”

Max nods, silent, and immediately you and Lucas know that today is one of her bad days. Her eyes are sunken in, it doesn’t look like she got any sleep last night. She sits down next to you, and you nod at Lucas, signaling to him that it’s okay if he leaves. You’ll take care of her.

Lucas hesitates, unsure, but reluctantly leaves when you nod at him once more, urging. If it was anyone else, he would stay, but it’s you. Besides Lucas, you’re the only other person Max talks to. You’ll stay with her, Lucas deserves to go and branch out like Mike and Dustin are.

“So, did you know about Lucas wanting to join the basketball team?” You turn to Max once the boy has left. She shrugs, picks at the food in front of her. It’s the most response you’ll get from her, and you sigh. “You don’t want to be here either, do you?”

She looks up at you, alarmed that you caught on so fast, and you just shake your head at her. You dig into your backpack, take out some cookies you baked the night before. They were supposed to be for all the kids today, but they’ve all left and Max needs them more right now. “Here, take these. Go to the left stairwell, next to the choir room. No one goes there during lunch, it’s quiet.”

“Thank you,” Max exhales with relief, taking the baked goods from you. Tears lump in her throat, she doesn’t know how you always manage to do this. To see through her, always say the right thing.

“Of course, my dear.” You risk touching her face, she’s cold, but she closes her eyes and breathes in at the comfort. “I expect to see you at Bookstrordinary after school today, though.”

Somehow Max laughs, and the action hurts her to do so. It’s becoming harder and harder to bear the sound of her own happiness. But she nods at you, understanding that it’s an order she can’t disobey, and leaves.

Then it’s just you at the lunch table. Alone.

Nancy is at yearbook, she’s told you all about her grand plan of reforming the club into something more than just homecoming polls and gossip panels. Robin is at yet another band practice, preparing for the annual back to school pep rally later this week. Steve is at Family Video, bored out of his mind, both of you wishing he were here instead.

And Jonathan is across the country, at an entirely different school, aching to be near you again.

The thought of him in California only intensifies the loneliness that you feel. The feeling overwhelms you, and before it can swallow you whole, you dig through your backpack once more. Your fingers shake as you rustle through the notebooks and textbooks, and they clutch desperately at your walkman when you finally find it. The mixtape Jonathan made for you before he left sits within it.

You quickly place the headphones over your head, muffling the sounds of the cafeteria around you. Your fingers find the play button with practiced ease, and soon the beginning notes of the Beatles play through the wire and into your headphones.

The song soothes you, it quiets what you don’t want to hear; it makes you smile. The mixtape is all you’ve been listening to ever since Jonathan left. Though it can never replace his presence, it’s enough for now.

You stare at the empty seats around you. John Lennon’s voice floats through your ears.

Welcome to senior year.

–

Miraculously, it’s Nancy you lean on the most as the autumn leaves turn orange and the summer’s heat dies down. She finds you later during your first week, grabbing lunch from your locker, and she stops you.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to spend another lunch alone.” Nancy has never been one to greet someone. She always gets straight to the point, a quality that you normally admire.

However, you feel embarrassment rise within you, slightly off put by the cruel words. Sure, you’re not necessarily thrilled that you’ve spent your first few days of senior year alone, but you didn’t need Nancy reminding you of that. “Hello to you too, Nance.”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to offend you.” She holds her notebook close to her chest and looks down in shame. It’s weird, there’s a distance between you that has only seemed to widen despite how hard the two of you try to bridge it. For a while things were good, great, even. She was genuinely your friend, but sometimes insecurities can hurt the ones people love the most.

“Not really sure how I was meant to take that.” You close your locker and try to excuse yourself. You’re exhausted, you hardly slept the night before. “Look, I should go. I stayed up all night working on stupid college applications and I just… I’m tired.”

Nancy’s posture straightens, eager to grab onto any opportunity to amend things with you. “I can read over whatever you have.” When you raise your eyebrows at her, she quickly backtracks, worried she’s overstepped. “I–I mean, that is, if you want. Not that you need the help! It’s just–”

She forces herself to stop. She’s rushing her words, messing it all up. Her shoulders drop, Nancy takes a deep breath and looks you in the eye. She never apologized for her words earlier this summer. The way she sneered venom at you, but she’s carried the guilt of it ever since. “I’m… trying. I promise I am.”

Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers have never handled vulnerability well. It’s what made you stand out against them, set you apart, and you can’t help but find this quality in them endearing. You know that Nancy is trying to go back to how things were, before one phone call between the two of you revealed the unspoken resentment she held.

You never blamed her for any of it. But you know she blames herself, and Jonathan’s absence doesn’t help; both of you miss him, neither of you can afford to lose anyone else.

So you try as well.

“I’ll let you read over what I have only if you let me read what you’ve written as well.” You nudge her shoulder with yours, getting her to finally smile. “I’m curious to see what that brain of yours has thought of already.”

Nancy laughs, relieved. “Definitely nothing as creative as whatever you’ve written.”

“We’ll see about that, Wheeler.”

Soon you find yourself in the yearbook room. Nancy introduces you to some kid named Fred, who moons over her the entire time you’re there, though she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy reading through your ideas, and you find yourself admiring her side profile. The way her eyelashes kiss her brows, the soft cherry on her lips.

Nancy is beautiful. You understand how Jonathan and Fred and Steve and countless other guys in Hawkins have lost their minds over her.

You read through portions of Nancy’s writing, and the two of you sit quietly side by side editing the essays. She marks some things down, crosses out some lines, and you do the same. It’s lovely, being by her side again. You hadn’t realized just how much you missed her following the events of this summer.

“So, New York University, huh?” Nancy eventually breaks the silence.

You nod, humming as you skim over a line that you particularly like. Circling it, you respond. “Yeah, it’s been my dream school ever since I was young.”

Though you’re applying to other schools as well. A few state schools, some in Virginia, close to your father. But New York is truly where you hope you’ll be next fall.

“Jonathan mentioned that you like psychology, right?”

“Yup,” you cross out an extra word. “Particularly child psychology. Figured that after everything we’ve been through, especially the kids, it’d be useful if at least one of us has any idea what’s going on inside our minds.”

Nancy chuckles. “Fair.”

It falls quiet again, but you don’t want the peace to end. “I heard from Jonathan that you’re looking into Emerson.”

“He tells you everything, doesn’t he?” Though this time Nancy’s question is asked with fondness, slight exasperation and humor mixed in.

“Mhm, we’re a package deal. You tell one of us something, then the other is bound to know eventually.” You look up at Nancy and lightly touch her arm. “Though he still keeps some things from me when it comes to you, don’t worry.”

She laughs again, and finally you allow the silence to settle upon you. It’s a comfortable one. There isn’t a tension underlying it. For the first time in a long time, you’re able to simply sit next to Nancy and feel that she wants you there with her.

After that day, you and Nancy spend almost every lunch period helping each other with your applications.

Steve helps you, too. In his own ways.

While he can’t help you write the essays, he lets you call him at two in the morning to rattle off application ideas so you won’t forget them. He doesn’t complain when you wake him up and he has an early shift the next day. Instead, he listens. Steve offers you his own tired input and indulges in whatever you need to feel that you’ll succeed; he’s the most doting, patient boyfriend you could ever ask for.

And, secretly, Steve adores it. Especially when you call him some nights just to have him come over and hold you.

Those are his favorite nights. Tonight is one of them.

“Why does college exist?” Your cheek is pressed against Steve’s chest as you lay in your bed together. The steady rise and fall of his breathing is melodic.

He plays with a strand of your hair, you feel him shrug. “‘Dunno, but you’re almost done.”

“Yeah, just have one more application to send before I get to spend four agonizing months waiting to find out if I even get in. How fun.” Sarcasm drips from your lips. You’ve spent the last two months obsessing over it all, which words to write in your essays, which clubs to join, which teachers to beg for recommendation letters.

And now you have one application left. Then you’ll be forced to wait, without any control of the inevitable outcome.

You’ve never been someone comfortable with letting go of control.

“Everything will be fine, angel. NYU would be stupid not to let you in.” Steve reassures you with a kiss to your temple, then to your cheek, the tip of your nose, the dip of your brows. As he kisses you, he envisions doing this a year from now, in a small, rundown apartment with sirens wailing outside and a fire escape that creaks in the wind. The song of New York City.

Eventually Steve’s lips will find yours, and the conversation will be long forgotten. It’s how most of your nights end now, lost in the kisses as his breath mixes with yours. Hands will wander. Sighs will leave parted mouths. Quiet, soft, aware of the precariously thin walls.

You haven't slept with Steve, at least not yet. Though you’ve been together a few months now, it still feels too soon. He’s your first boyfriend, your first kiss, your first real love, and Steve doesn’t want to rush you. If all you ever do together is lazily kiss and breathe each other in, then Steve will happily part your lips with his and draw soft sighs out from you.

In the morning you’ll awake with Steve’s lips on your neck, his eyes shining up at you, and in the morning sunlight, before you’ve fully woken up, the air between you is sacred.

–

“I sent in my final application,” you’re whispering, not wanting to wake up your mom who has fallen asleep on the couch. It’s nearly midnight in Indiana, but in California it’s only nine and Jonathan has just finished his school work for the night. “NYU, it’s done.”

On the other end you hear shuffling as Jonathan leans against his kitchen wall. Will sits at the table with El, he sketches the early stages of a painting and she studies grammar. Jonathan watches them, his mom is in bed, and he forgets for a moment that he’s on the phone with you.

“Bee?” You say the childhood name so softly, so tenderly with concern, and it brings Jonathan back to himself.

“I’m here, sorry.” He clears his throat, his head is still slightly muffled. Jonathan met a guy in woodshop this week, his name is Argyle, and somehow during lunch he found himself in the back of the guy’s van with a blunt hanging loosely from his lips. The smoke dulled the ache of missing Nancy, of missing you. Jonathan can’t tell you this, though. You’d kill him, and he hates disappointing you. “What were you saying?”

You frown slightly, he sounds different. There’s something in his voice, it’s raspy and he sounds distant. The sound is lonely, he sounds lonely. Jonathan isn’t really here, despite the fact that he’s talking to you. The last few phone calls have been like this. You don’t know what to do.

When Jonathan left, the two of you promised to call each other every Friday, a compromise. A way to create distance, yet tether you to each other. Jonathan calls you every Friday, Nancy gets him every day the rest of the week, and it works. This is how it’s always been ever since early September.

At first you guys would talk about how your weeks had gone. Jonathan would complain about the California heat and you would tell him about how Mike and Lucas had crashed your date with Steve one night. Laughter would float over the telephone lines. Teasing, whispered “I miss you’s” and spoken goodbyes with the promise of talking again next week.

But last week when you called, the teasing was gone. The laughter was minimal. You had complained about an exam that day and Jonathan had given one word responses that had worried you. It had been odd, but you thought that maybe he’d been tired that day. Everyone has a bad day, you know this.

Yet it’s Friday again and Jonathan couldn’t feel farther away from you.

“I mailed my NYU application in, bee. You send in yours yet?” Voice light, cheery. You do what you can to try and keep him afloat. You try to grasp at the good that’s left between you. Remind Jonathan that you’re right here, still with him, without scaring him away. “You remember our plan, right? Me and you in New York, together.”

Since you were kids the plan has always been to go to college together. Back then, neither of you could fathom a reason to ever be apart. You were invincible, the same way all kids think they are before the world tells them otherwise.

But you and Jonathan aren’t invincible, you never were.

You can hear the way your question suffocates him. The breath that he holds, stilted and torn, suffocates you as well.

Nausea punches Jonathan, the smoke from earlier suddenly fogs his throat. He doesn’t know what to do. Nancy wants him to go to Emerson with her, he promised you NYU when he was twelve, and California has his mother and Will.

“Yeah, yeah. I–I mean, I sent mine in. Last week.”

Jonathan is lying. You’ve known him for almost six years; he always stumbles over his words when he lies.

Part of you wants to ask him why he’s doing this, lying to you and pulling away. Another part of you, the larger, more naive part, doesn’t want to believe it. You clear your throat, swallow down the hurt, and choose naivety. “Oh,” your tone is too pinched, too put together. You clear your throat again. “That’s–that’s great! I, um. Surprised you didn’t read the essays to me. Have me edit them, like we’ve always done.”

Jonathan leans his head against the wall and squeezes his eyes shut. He’s never been able to lie to you, he knows you’re desperately trying to overcompensate, as you always do. He hates it. He hates himself. “Yeah, well. Got excited, I guess.”

You hum, words failing you, and the line goes silent.

Dread replaces the laughter that night.

–

Before you know it, it’s Halloween and the party has infiltrated Steve’s house.

The holiday falls on a Saturday, and the party deems itself too old to trick or treat. When they find out that Steve’s parents won’t be home that weekend, they demand to spend the night at his house and watch horror movies.

Steve fights back, complains that he doesn’t want them taking over his living room, but his complaints fall on deaf ears. That, and Dustin ropes Robin into their plans.

“Oh, God. Don’t open the door!” Dustin shrieks, throwing popcorn at Steve’s TV as he covers his eyes with a blanket. He cowers against Lucas, who shoves him off, and Mike snickers. Max sits on the couch, outside of their fort, and watches the boys. None of them try to get her to sit with them. They know they’re lucky that she even showed in the first place.

“I can’t look.” Robin’s voice carries over, you can almost picture her cringing as she holds a pillow to her chest. Mike chose a particularly gory movie, and the kid’s mind frightens her.

A loud crash sounds, then a woman screams. You figure the protagonist did open the door and has now died, though you can’t be sure. You’re in the kitchen with Steve, taking out the final batch of oatmeal raisin cookies from the oven. The smell wafts through the home, bringing warmth to a house that Steve has always found cold, and he places his hands on your hips.

“You spoil the kids too much,” he presses his nose against your cheek and kisses you. “They invade my home and you bake them delicious goods.”

You set the tray of cookies down onto the counter. “As if the cookies aren’t for you, too.”

“That isn’t important. We’re focusing on my hostage house, Y/N.”

“‘Hostage house’, quite the alliteration there.”

Steve now kisses your neck, distracting you as you plate the cookies. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Don’t make me come in there!” Dustin screams, and Robin echoes him with her own disgusted yelling.

You laugh at their theatrics while Steve rolls his eyes. He really hates that his house has become the party’s source of entertainment. He just wants to compliment his beautiful girlfriend in peace. Who would punish a guy for that?

In his moping Steve almost misses you walking back into the living room. He follows, stumbles over his feet, never wanting to be more than a few inches away from you. You’re magnetic, always pulling him in.

Mike is the first to grab a handful of cookies. Lucas and Dustin follow quickly after. They shove the food into their mouths and you scoff at their lack of manners. They’re such boys, growing taller every day, and they’re just as disgusting as they were when they were kids.

“Want one, Max?” You hold the plate up to her, noticing that she hasn’t moved from her seat. She shakes her head at you, eyes never leaving the screen. Lucas and you share a look, the same concerned expression on your faces.

The moment is broken by Robin, who grabs a cookie and practically melts. “Holy shit, Y/N. You bake these regularly?”

“Usually once a week,” you shrug at her. “Though I once baked six batches during finals week.”

“God, that was a good week.” Dustin hums, lost in the blissful memory.

Robin grabs your arm, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I will give you my firstborn child in exchange for my own batch of cookies.”

Steve pokes her shoulder. “You already promised your firstborn to me after I agreed to cover your weekend shift.”

“I can have twins.”

You laugh at her. “That’s a terrifying thought.”

Robin sticks her tongue out at you, causing you to laugh even more, and Mike puts the next movie on. Everyone settles back down, you lay with Steve in the lovechair with Robin in front of you. Max has the couch to herself, the boys are sprawled on the floor in a mess of pillows and blankets, and for the first time in months you feel a certain warmth having your family together.

Sometime during the night the clock strikes twelve.

It’s November 1st, 1985.

Steve’s nineteenth birthday.

Robin snores softly on the ground, arm underneath her head as a makeshift pillow. Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are all curled up against one another, their faces young again. Max sleeps softly on the couch, her hand dangles over the edge, grazing Lucas’ outstretched arm and open palm.

Steve lays beneath you, he isn’t quite asleep yet. You’ve come to learn the rhythm of his breaths as he sleeps. The way they slow, the pattern steady. You lift your head up, wanting to admire him, and find that he’s already looking at you.

“Hi, angel.” He whispers, smiling sweetly.

You smile back, you always smile back at him. “Hi, honey.” Doing your best to remain quiet, you crawl up the length of Steve and nuzzle your way into his neck. You kiss the dip just above his collarbone, causing him to shiver. “Happy birthday.”

Arms encase you, pull you deeper into the body you lay on. Steve’s body heat warms your face, warms your bones, and you wish you could stay like this forever. In Steve’s arms, the scent of him overwhelming your mind, his touch calming you.

“Thank you,” he kisses the top of your head. He lingers, his lips soft. The two of you stay like this, his head against yours, your chin tucked into the alcove of his neck. Your breathing syncs with his, his fingers trail up and down your spine. Your fingers splay over his chest, warming his ribs.

In the morning, Max wakes everyone up.

“My mom will be worried,” she kicks Mike, nudges Lucas’ shoulder. “Wake up, idiots.”

Steve groans, squinting his eyes against the morning light. He tries to roll over and block it out and nearly shoves you off the seat in the process. “Steve!” He manages to catch you in his sleepy state, but his movements are slow.

“Sorry!”

You clutch your chest, heart pounding. “You’ve done that way too many times now. I’m starting to think you want to throw me onto the ground.”

“Lucas once promised he could catch me if I jumped into his arms.” Max says, then she points to a scar on her knee. “Turned out he couldn’t.”

“Hey!” Lucas sits up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I really thought I could do it.”

Mike stretches. “Your fault for trusting him, Max.”

Lucas shoves him and the two start to wrestle on the floor. They’re a tangle of lanky limbs, knocking into Dustin who still hasn’t woken up yet. They roll on top of the boy, and he wakes up to Lucas’ knee in his face. “What the hell?”

Dustin joins the fighting now, and Robin throws a pillow at them. “Guys! It’s too early for this!”

They don’t listen.

It takes a lot of pleading, negotiating, and bribes in order to break the fight up. It takes even longer to wrangle the kids out of Steve’s home, much to his dismay. They leave a mess of strewn popcorn all over the carpet and pillows missing feathers. You stay behind, offering to help clean the mess, and Robin rushes out an apology and happy birthday to Steve as she runs out the door to get to work.

Until Richard and May Harrington walk in.

Neither of you notice them at first. Steve is too busy spinning you around, playfully dipping you as the music comes to a grand crescendo. You’re laughing breathlessly, but soon your laughter turns into a yelp when Steve sees his parents standing in the doorway and drops you.

“Dad!” Steve immediately bends down to pick you up, endlessly apologetic. He ducks his head, eyes on you, though his body doesn’t turn from his father. “I’m sorry, angel. You alright?”

You reassure your boyfriend that you’re fine, more worried about the fact that you’re dressed in clothes from yesterday with horrendous bedhead meeting his parents for the first time. Richard eyes you in Steve’s arms. He has a look of disinterest on his face. “Son.”

“What, uh.” Steve clears his throat, curls a protective arm around your waist. He didn’t mean for this to happen. His parents were supposed to be gone until Tuesday. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.”

“Right.”

Father and son stand in front of one another. Neither speaks. Steve feels like a little boy again, scrutinized underneath his father’s intense gaze. Never good enough. Never worthy of anything other than berating and lectures.

You wring your hands nervously, unsure what to do. The air is thick. Steve looks so much like his father, it’s almost uncanny. They have the same build, the same moles that dot along their handsome faces. Only his father is dressed in a suit, the lines in his face are hard, weathered. He’s who you picture Steve would’ve been, in a different universe where you were never his friend.

May Harrington gave her son all of her delicate features. The soft turn of his nose. The plush, pink lips. His doe eyes, his smile. The only feature that separates her from her son is her honey blonde hair. She’s beautiful, elegant and poised, and when she steps towards you, you can smell lavender perfume. “You must be Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hi, Mrs. Harrington.” You’re quick to meet her where she stands. You’re nervous, you have to discreetly wipe your hand on your pants before shaking hers. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you. Your banana bread is lovely.”

The woman smiles, it’s so much like Steve’s that you want to cry. “Thank you, dear.”

“Of course, and I apologize for meeting like this. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Richard makes a mean, gruff sound. He shakes his head, steps next to his wife. He doesn’t like you, you can feel it by the way he blocks his wife’s view of you. “Oh, no. I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Dad–” Steve steps forward as well, blocking his father’s view of you. He’s angry, his shoulder blades close together. He doesn’t like how the man is treating you; you’re too good for such cruelty.

“What did I tell you about bringing your hookups to the house, son?” Richard sneers, turning his nose up at you. That’s all he sees you as. Just another one of Steve’s flings, one of the girls from his past.

“Y/N is not just some hookup,” Steve clenches his jaw, tries to steady his breathing. He doesn’t want to fight with his dad in front of you. Not when he was having such a good morning, spending his birthday with your hands wrapped around his neck and your giggles singing in his ears. “She’s my girlfriend, and I love her.”

Richard chuckles, he doesn’t believe his son. “Okay, you love her. I’m sure your mother and I will walk in on you with some new girl next week.”

“Dear,” May places a hand on her husband’s shoulder. She sees the way you shrink into yourself at the man’s words. The insecurity that he brings. She sees how her son’s eyes ignite with fury, she watches as he does whatever he can to put the flame out for her sake and yours. “It’s Steve’s birthday today.”

“Is that why you insisted on coming home today?” Richard turns to her, she has his full attention now. His eyebrows are drawn together, annoyance paints his body. “You told me you had a board meeting tonight.”

“Why don’t we talk about this upstairs?” May suggests, relieved that she’s turned her husband’s anger onto herself rather than her son. Richard sighs, but he doesn’t argue as he marches up the stairs without so much as a second glance towards you. When he’s gone, May smiles at you sympathetically. “I apologize for my husband’s behavior. We had a long flight, I’m sure he’s simply jetlagged.”

“Yeah, that’s why he’s such an asshole.” Steve scoffs, tired of his mother’s excuses for her husband. He can be cruel to Steve, he doesn’t care. He’s been cruel to him his entire life. But if his father so much as breathes near you again, Steve will hurt him.

Your hand reaches for Steve’s, sensing what he’s thinking. You return May’s smile, you’re not at all angry with her. ��It’s okay, really. I was an unexpected guest, and I should go.”

Steve pulls you into his chest. “What, no–”

“You may leave, if you’d like.” His mother gently interrupts him. “Though I must admit, I really do wish to know you better. If you’d allow me to, that is.”

“I’d love that more than anything.”

“Then I will plan a dinner for the next time my husband and I are in town.” May tells you, admiring your honesty. She can see why Steve has become so infatuated with you. There’s nothing hidden within you; you wear your heart on your sleeve, your sincerity a welcomed rarity. She turns to her son, rests her palm delicately against his face. “Happy birthday, my beautiful boy.”

Steve leans into her touch, weak for his mother as any son is. You turn away, it doesn’t feel right to watch this moment between them.

In the car Steve profusely apologizes for his father’s behavior. Over and over again, he laments how sorry he is and that you’re more than just some fling to him. “You’re everything to me, angel. I love you so, so much.”

“I know, honey.” You grab his hand that rests against the stick shift. His father’s words had hurt, but you knew that they weren’t true. Steve is yours, he has been for longer than either of you realize. Nothing will ever undo the love he has for you, the foundation of trust it was built upon. “You’re everything to me, too.”

When Steve pulls into your driveway, you tell him to park and come inside. His birthday gift is in your room. You had planned to give it to him later tonight, but his parents’ unexpected arrival had soured things. “I know you have to go home, but…”

“I’ll never say no to you.” Steve’s already unbuckling his seatbelt to follow you inside. He greets your mother with a kiss to her cheek, ruffles Dustin’s hair as he sits at the dining table doing homework. His movements are easy, leisurely. You notice now how at home he is in yours, far from the boy who cowered before his father only twenty minutes ago. The realization is bittersweet. He deserves to feel at home in his own house, not just yours.

Inside your room Steve sits on your bed and holds his hand out, eager. “Okay, wow me, Henderson.”

“You really know how to talk to a woman.” You tease him, rustling through your drawer to find the gift you’ve hidden. Steve is nosy, he’s been trying to find his gift for at least two weeks now. When you’ve found it, you clutch the gift in your hand and hold it behind your back. “Alright, you know the drill by now. Close your eyes.”

Steve complies with a smirk, biting back suggestive comments. He loves this tradition with you, making the other close their eyes before their gift. Something light is placed in Steve’s hand. It’s circular, sturdy. He thinks he can smell leather.

“Okay, open.”

In his hand is a bracelet. It’s a simple strip of leather, nothing embellishes it besides a button to secure it. Though it’s plain, Steve can tell that it’s expensive. The leather is supple, its color is dark and polished. The silver button that clasps the two ends together is heavy.

He loves it, he does, but he can’t help feeling like that there must be something more to it.

As if reading his mind, you gently prompt Steve to turn it over in his hands. “Look what’s on the inside, honey.”

He does, and his heart stops.

The leather has been stamped. The word constants is spelled out across the length of the band. It’s a hidden message, only for Steve to know, and while he’s sure you have your own explanation for why you chose the word constants, he loves it already. “Oh.”

You sit next to him and laugh softly. “You’re my constant, Steve. Everything in my life has changed, or will change, but you… You’ve always been there, I know you’ll always be there. With me. My love, my lucky charm, my constant.”

Tears well in Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t bother wiping them away, too busy admiring the bracelet in his hand. He can’t believe you’re real, that you’ve thought of this for him. That you see a future with him… It’s everything he could’ve asked for. A security he’s always longed to have. His entire life he’s been told he’s too much, too overwhelming, and yet you want him to stay anyways.

“And you’re my constant?” He asks you, fingers grazing over the letters again.

You nudge his shoulder with yours. “Well, I’d like to think that I am.”

He laughs, wet and full of love, and he can’t take it anymore. Steve throws his arms over you and you collapse into your bed, laughing together as he presses his lips wherever they can reach.

“You are,” he says in between kisses. Your laughter lights him. “You’re my constant, too.”

–

The autumn leaves fall and the trees are barren as winter arrives.

You spend winter break trying to maintain your promise to Joyce. After finishing the hell that was applying to college, you have so much unexpected free time that at first you don't know what to do. But then her words echo in your mind, the promise to live the life that you deserve, so you start doing things for yourself.

Slowly you read through all the books in your room that you hadn't had time for before. You start running again in the mornings, the winter air crisp in your lungs. You and Dustin do homework together at the kitchen table, making sure neither of you get left behind. You try new recipes to bake, delivering the treats to the ones you love. It’s nice, rediscovering the pleasures you once had long before the Upside Down came into your life.

Christmas comes and you do your annual rounds, delivering everyone’s favorite treats on Christmas Eve. It’s during your run to the Sinclair home that Lucas asks you to come inside to talk.

“What’s up?” You ask him, unwrapping your scarf and warming your hands in your sleeves. Lucas gestures to his kitchen table, silently asking you to sit. When you do, he takes a deep breath and joins you.

Something’s bothering him. You can see it in the way he carries a weight on his shoulders. How they droop as he sits, exhausted. You reach across the table and grab his hand, offering whatever comfort you can give him. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

“It’s…” Lucas purses his lips, his breath shakes. “It’s Max. I’m–I’m worried about her.”

He tells you everything. He tells you how distant she’s been, more than she’s ever been before. He tells you how she’s missed dates he’s planned for her, how she refuses to talk to him anymore. She hasn’t been to any of the party’s hangouts, Mike and Dustin haven’t seen her ever since winter break started.

Max has had bad days, weeks, even months since losing Billy. But she’s never had the bad days without at least one good day following. To break the monotonous cycle of self-loathing and grief and guilt. She would always come back, even if for a moment, alive and bright and reminiscent of the girl had been.

“I can feel her slipping away,” Lucas looks down at the table. He’s afraid that if he looks at you then he’ll start crying. He doesn’t want you to worry, he knows how much you already deal with and do for them, but he’s terrified. “I know… I know that you helped Will, after he was flayed. Do you think you could maybe talk to Max? Just… Remind her that we’re here for her? I can’t–I can’t lose her.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you squeeze his hand in yours, trying to stem the stream of tears he fought so hard to force down. Lucas loves Max with everything within him. Anyone can see that. You’d do anything to bring the girl back to him, to bring her back to all of you. “I’ll talk to her.”

I’ll keep an eye on her. Watch her when you can’t.

Lucas hears it. He exhales, nods his head.

You leave. Max was the next one on your list of deliveries anyways.

It’s nearing dusk by the time you get to the trailer park. You haven’t seen Max’s new home, she’s only recently moved. She had been too embarrassed to tell anyone that her mother lost their old house. The only reason you even know she moved in the first place is because Lucas and Dustin stalked her walking home.

A dog barks as you bike past. Snow has started to fall, tomorrow will be a white Christmas.

“Oh, hello, Y/N.” Susan Hargrove’s skin is pale, her eyes sunken in when she answers the door. Her voice is thin, her frame is strained. The death has been hard on her, too. Billy’s father leaving only made everything worse.

“Hi, Mrs. Hargrove.”

The woman winces. “Please, Mayfield will be fine.”

You immediately correct yourself, apologetic and ashamed, when Max’s voice calls from within the home. “Just let Y/N in, mom.”

Susan sighs, and you wish you could do more. Instead, all you can offer her is the container of coconut bites you’ve made for them. Max told you they remind her and her mother of California, and you always make sure to have some ready every week for them. Offer some semblance of joy in the gray of their lives.

Max sits at the kitchen table. Her head is down as she works on something. She has her walkman next to her. Susan leaves the two of you alone, excusing herself to go lay down after a long shift.

You sit next to the girl and take a deep breath. This won’t be easy. Max is prideful, stubbornly independent, and has never accepted sympathy from anyone. You’ve always admired her fiery personality, but the fire has dimmed and the smoke is beginning to choke her. Talking to her will be like pulling teeth out.

“Brought you your favorites.” You shake the container in your hands. It serves as a peace offering, almost a bribe to start the conversation.

“Thanks.” Max doesn’t look up.

You swallow, tuck your hair behind your ears. “Of course. I was doing my usual delivery rounds. I, uh. Stopped at the Sinclair’s.”

The pencil in Max’s hand freezes. Her knuckles tighten, though the shift is subtle. She’s always been too smart for her own good. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Erica likes my brownies. Mrs. Sinclair, too.”

“And Lucas?” She knows why you’re here.

“I made him chocolate chip cookies. You know how much he loves them.” Max doesn’t respond. Of course she knows how much Lucas enjoys chocolate chip cookies. She knows everything about him, but she doesn’t say anything and goes back to writing. Faintly you hear music coming from the walkman. You point at the device. “New song?”

“Kate Bush.”

“Oh.” This is going worse than you imagined. “Look, Max–”

She doesn’t waste any time. “I know Lucas sent you. I don’t care.”

“He’s just worried about you, we all are–”

“I’m fine.” The tip of the pencil snaps. “Shit.”

“Max.” You’re pleading with her to listen. Her skin is fluorescent now, paler than you’ve ever seen. The bags underneath her eyes are swollen, dark and ghostly. She’s lost weight. You can’t remember the last time you saw her eat. “Please.”

“What do you want me to do?” Though there’s anger in her voice, Max’s eyes plead with you, too. Her mask slips for just a moment, but you see it. Underneath her indifferent exterior, she’s just as terrified as everyone else is. She can feel herself fading, the guilt of Billy’s death slowly eats her alive. She doesn’t know what to do, though. How do you continue to live after death has infiltrated your home?

The chair beneath you scraps against the hardwood floor. You stand up, walk over to Max and kneel in front of her. You keep your movements slow, worried you’ll scare her away if you get too close too suddenly. “I think you should talk to someone, honey.”

Max turns away. She can’t. If she told anyone what goes on inside her head, they would never forgive her. You would never forgive her, and it would break her.

Your hand falls to Max’s knee. The warmth from your palm combats the ice in her veins. You’re looking at her as if she’s worth something. As if she didn’t wish for her brother’s death. As if she hadn’t sent a grieving father into a spiral, a desperate mother into a trailer park. But Max allows your touch, so you try to get through to her again.

“You know, I was actually talking to Ms. Kelly a few weeks ago. The school’s guidance counselor.” She had met with you to discuss your grades and college options. When she had seen how you picked your nails until they bled, she suggested seeing her every few weeks. Alleviate some of your never ending stress. You had denied, uncomfortable with the idea. But maybe she could help Max. “She seemed nice enough. I’m sure she would be open to talking with you.”

“I don’t want to see some shrink.”

“Hey, I want to work with kids your age someday. Don’t call future me a shrink.” You poke Max’s leg playfully, and the corners of her mouth twitch. She doesn’t want you to see that it’s working. “C’mon. Have at least one meeting with her. When winter break ends, all I ask is that you try. For me and Lucas. We’re your favorites, after all.”

“If I agree, will it get you to shut up?”

You’re fine with this. It isn’t ideal, you aren’t sure Max will even actually try to open up to Ms. Kelly, but it’s a start. For too long now you’ve stayed silent, allowing Max to grieve on her own. Grief is hard, it takes and it takes and it takes. Yet it’s been almost six months and you’re not sure how much left grief can take from Max. “I think I can be okay with that.”

You’ll take whatever you can get. You’re worried. You got too caught up in your own life, you had gotten lost in your own haze of grief and anxiety. Missing Jonathan, grappling with change and growing up as you applied to college. You weren’t there for Max like you should’ve been.

But you’ll fix this. You always fix things. It’s what you do. It’s what you have to do. It’s how you love; you take care of those around you.

And who are you if you can’t?

–

Jonathan calls you high for the first time in late January.

Though he doesn’t tell you that he’s high, you know. His words are slurred, slowed, incomprehensible. It’s late in California, even later in Indiana, and the stark feeling of guilt slices into your ribcage the same way the Demodog’s claw did. The feeling cuts deep into your skin, nicks your bone.

“Jonathan?” You hope your voice brings him back to you. You try to cut through the smoke that fills his mind, that leaves him stumbling over his words. “Bee, can you hear me?”

“‘M here.” Jonathan sniffs, smacks his lips, yawns. “Where’re you? Can’t find you, bug.”

You close your eyes. He’s looking for you, and you aren’t with him. “I’m in Hawkins.”

“Thas’ far.”

“Yeah,” you choke out a laugh. It constricts in your vocal chords, but you can’t let Jonathan know how much it hurts to hear him so disoriented. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. California sucks.” He hiccups, you’re surprised he’s managed to call you tonight. Even in his drugged up state, he still somehow remembered to call. “Don’t think Nance will like it.”

He’s referring to the spring break trip. Nancy told you about it earlier today, how she and Mike will spend the week in California to see Jonathan and El. She had been a bit hesitant to tell you, afraid you’d be upset for not being invited, but you reassured her that it was okay.

You’ve had a road trip planned with Jonathan ever since you were fifteen. The moment the two of you graduate, you’ll drive all across the country for one final adventure before college.

Nancy can have spring. Summer will be yours.

“She’ll love California because you’re there.” She talked about the trip nonstop today. Her glow had come back, momentarily, her eyes alight. She truly loves Jonathan, she misses him even more than you do.

“Only disappoint her.”

“What do you mean?” You’re not sure where this is coming from. You know Jonathan is high, that his thoughts may not be coherent, but he sounds distressed about Nancy. You thought things had been good between them. They were planning a future together.

“Is’ hard, with her.” Jonathan manages to get out, but his speech is becoming harder and harder to understand.

You frown. “What’s hard, bee?”

The line disconnects. Jonathan doesn’t bring the conversation up again, the next time you call. You don’t ask him what he meant. You don’t think you want to know. There had been something deeper behind his words.

Will calls you a few days later in tears. The kids are meaner in California than they are in Hawkins. They tease El, make her life hell, and he’s upset that he can’t do anything to stop it. He cries to you, his tears soak your face through the landline, and the guilt creeps back in.

It will never truly leave.

You do your best to console him, offer him advice, but that’s all you can do. All you have are your words. Will and El are hours away, hundreds of miles separate them from you. It's nauseating, feeling so useless. For as long as you’ve known Will, you’ve always been able to protect him. To help him, dry his eyes.

You’ve always been there for your boys, for Jonathan and Will. For El. But you can’t get to them, they’re too far away, and it kills you. You’re sixteen again, trapped in Jonathan’s car and frantically trying to keep yourself together as everything around you falls apart.

Steve becomes your lifeline.

He always answers when you call. Every time Jonathan, high and lonely, hangs up your conversations, you call Steve. He answers, he hears the exhaustion in your voice, and he always sneaks in through your window later that night. He knows it’s the only way you’re able to sleep these days.

He sings to you when you wake up from a nightmare. They’ve become about Max, losing her. She’s only met with Ms. Kelly a few times, but you can tell that she already wants to stop. That you’re pushing her too far, pushing her away from you and everyone else.

Steve takes you for drives when you get blisters from pacing your room, anxiously waiting for your college decision letters to come in. Soon your entire life will be decided for you by one single piece of paper.

Two weeks before spring break, Jonathan calls you. He’s sober.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve spoken to him sober. The thought alone depresses you, makes you yearn for childhood again.

“I think Nancy wants me to come to Hawkins,” he tells you. “Would you… would you like that?”

More than anything.

You press the phone against your ear and imagine that it’s Jonathan’s hand instead. Your skin hasn’t forgotten how his felt against it. “Of course I want you to come to Hawkins, bee.” But it can’t be that easy, you know nothing ever comes easily. “Can you afford it, though? I–I mean, God. I miss you, you know that, but I know it’s been hard for your family these last few years.”

Jonathan’s head falls back against the wall behind him. You always understand. He hates it, sometimes. “It’s worth looking into if it means I get to see you and Nance.”

There’s an air of authority in Jonathan’s voice, as if he truly believes what he’s saying, and it surprises you. He’s taking initiative after months of floating away. Hope sparks within you, the cold hand of dread lessens its grip around your neck.

“Well, I can’t argue with that logic.” You say. Jonathan laughs, you’ve missed the sound. It’s been so long since you last heard it.

Conversation drifts after that. You tell him about the latest Spider-Man arc you’re reading, he inserts his own opinions, and it’s lovely. You haven’t had Jonathan like this in months, all to yourself, his smile aligned with yours. Sober, steady.

The phone call with Jonathan reminds you of all the good that is still yet to come.

College decision letters arrive next week. Your best friend might be visiting for spring break. Your boyfriend has planned a picnic for your anniversary tomorrow. You have your first meeting with Ms. Kelly the following day. It was your idea, figuring it was only fair that you see her since Max has agreed to keep going.

And Joyce made you promise that you’d live your own life. You’re trying to get better, you really are.

It just takes time.

⌑ series masterlist

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⌑ thank you for reading ! feel free to like, comment, reblog, or send in an ask so we can chat <3

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #nya #m's writing #im so scared for season 4 bro #also less steve centered chapter i apologize class

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nerdallwritey · 11 months ago

Text

Perfect Every Time

Summary: You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?” Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly. “What?” you matched his smile. Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.” He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks. OR Before your party travels into the Underdark, you and Astarion catch one last sunrise together.

Pairing: Astarion x f!reader Rating: 18+ Word count: 7.2k CW: smut, reader is new to sex, hand job, piv sex, water sex, dirty talk, mentions of Astarion's past trauma, blood drinking, extra mild angst, soft Astarion, porn with feelings, reader is an idiot (and a bard), so is Astarion (not a bard, just an idiot), Illmater's blood-stained rack Spoilers: Minor spoilers for Act 1 (in-game dialogue, plot points, etc.), as well as Astarion's plotline Also posted to: AO3 FAIR WARNING: This is PART 4 in my series, "Beauty and the Bard." Find the masterlist here.

a/n: Surprise!! I'm back with a new chapter of Beauty and the Bard! This part is shorter than the other ones (who cheered) because it morphed from a little smut scene into one that deserved its very own part. One million thanks to everyone who's read and enjoyed the series so far, it's so much fun chatting with you guys and hearing your thoughts and it truly means the world that you guys care so much about these goofs. I already have an idea for Part 5, so that will be coming soon, but I have a request to fill first! Thank you all for your patience. In the meantime, please enjoy our regularly scheduled silliness with Astarion and bard!tav :) (Thank you once again to @kermitwazowski for beta reading!) As a reminder, the last part was the Tiefling party!

Taglist: @a66-1, @khaleesiofthewolves, @khywren, @lollipopsandlandmines, @mizuki-nautilus - Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series!

Several days had passed since the hijinxs of the Tiefling party had taken place. By now, the former refugees of the Emerald Grove were well on their way to Baldur’s Gate, the looming threat of goblins and power hungry druids far from their minds, their thoughts instead replaced with hope for new beginnings in the city.

Just like he’d promised, Halsin had returned the next day to discuss the parasites, officially joining your party of misfits on your journey towards the Shadow Cursed Lands and Moonrise Towers. His calming presence and sage advice was a welcome addition to the group, especially given that this leadership role had been thrust upon you by the others with next to no discussion. Having Halsin around finally felt like there was a responsible adult among you. Not that you all weren’t adults, but you definitely had your… quirks. Sure, Halsin turned into a bear if he let his emotions go unchecked, but Gale was a bomb.

As for you and Astarion, not much had really changed, you were both still yourselves, but now you openly tortured your companions with more pet names and cheek kisses and obnoxiously loud banter. Lae’zel had threatened to cleave you both in half on multiple occasions, but had yet to follow through on that threat. The others would groan loudly or avert their eyes politely.

Your days with Astarion were spent fighting side-by-side and teasing one another, and your nights were spent chatting and reading together. Aside from the physical intimacy and emotional vulnerability that came with being in a new relationship, it was really as if nothing had changed. And those were small prices to pay for where you currently found yourself: wrapped together with a trancing Astarion.

Ever since the Tiefling party, Astarion would worm his way into your tent at night. Whether he asked permission, or stayed a little too late into the night reading or talking or drinking from you; you would never ask him to leave. You’d slept together every night, sometimes beside each other, and other nights wrapped in each others’ arms. You were allowing Astarion to set the pace, as you were in no rush to get anywhere in particular. You simply enjoyed his company and his magnetic presence.

The pair of you hadn’t been too intimate since the party, barring stolen and sometimes steamy kisses. That was plenty for you, and Astarion continued checking in to see if you were okay with his touches and advances. Whenever you assured him that you were, he’d smile and return to your lips. You never asked him for more than he was willing to give, and even though you knew he wouldn’t say anything about it, you could tell he appreciated the courtesy despite the smug mask he so often wore.

Now, you found yourself stroking your hands through his hair as he tranced on your bare chest, breathing quietly; a habit he told you he’d picked up to look more alive when prowling the Gate.

It was funny, honestly, how sweet and unassuming he looked when he wasn’t fully conscious. And yet, you knew the kind of violence and debauchery and bad jokes he enacted and adored when he was awake. A small sound escaped his lips and you paused in caressing his hair to make sure you weren’t waking him. When his breathing returned to normal, you resumed raking your fingers soothingly over his scalp.

The hour was a little before dawn. Truthfully, you hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, knowing that today was the day your party would pack up camp and make your way into the Underdark for the foreseeable future. You’d re-emerge eventually to find the crèche Lae’zel knew to be nearby, but the Underdark was worth investigating for the sake of further answers about the tadpoles and a possible alternate route into the Shadow Cursed Lands. Plus, Shadowheart was adamant about seeing the rumored temple to Shar hidden down there.

All that to say, you and your companions wouldn’t be seeing the sun for quite a while. The thought saddened you immensely, knowing how much the man trancing on you would miss it terribly. How cruel, you thought, that your adventure was leading Astarion back into the shadows after he’d just gotten a taste of the sun for the first time in centuries.

“Why are you awake, my darling?” came Astarion’s raspy voice from the dark. He shifted his head to look up at you, his grip around your midsection tightening a bit, his eyes heavy with grogginess.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “You should get a little more if you can.”

Astarion chuckled. “Too busy thinking about me to sleep? I wouldn’t blame you.”

You sighed. “And if I was?”

Astarion’s face fell a little. “Why the hells would you allow yourself to lose sleep on my behalf, pet?” His voice was soft and one of his hands unwrapped itself from your body, taking your hand, and bringing it up to his mouth to kiss the back of your fingers. He cleared his throat. “I mean, obviously I can understand why,” he tried deflecting the sweetness that had seeped into his words by injecting his tone with fake bravado.

You let out an amused breath and allowed your hand in his hair to continue petting him gently. “I want to watch the sunrise with you again this morning.”

Astarion hummed. “And that kept you awake?”

“I didn’t want to oversleep.”

Now it was Astarion’s turn to let out an amused breath. “You could have asked. I would have woken you up.”

“No you wouldn’t, you keep letting me sleep in. It’s like you enjoy watching me sleep or something, you creep.” You poked his nose playfully.

“It’s just amazing how much drool someone of your stature can produce.”

You smacked the side of his head and he laughed softly. The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a little while before you decided to speak again.

“This will be the last sunrise we see for a while.”

Astarion let out a long sigh and remained silent. After a moment, he said, “I know.”

He sounded sad.

“It’s not forever, though,” you assured, moving your hand to stroke his cheek and regaining his attention.

He chuckled. “I know that, too.”

You yawned, a little more loudly than you meant to. “Good. I promise you’ll see the sun again.”

Astarion tsked. “Honestly, darling, did you get no sleep at all?”

“I got a little,” you lied.

He held your gaze, lifting a skeptical eyebrow. “I don’t believe you.”

“What does it matter?” you asked, caught. “I can handle a little lack of sleep.”

Astarion rolled his eyes and sat up to look at you more directly. “It matters because we need you alert. None of us knows what awaits us in the Underdark and I- we can’t have you getting hurt because you didn’t get enough rest!”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured, bending upwards to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I’ll have you to protect me when I get sloppy.”

Astarion groaned. “You shouldn’t get sloppy,” he complained. “I swear, if you somehow hold us back down there, I’ll slaughter you myself.”

“Promise?”

He groaned again. “Would you, just once, allow me to threaten you seriously?”

“No,” you patted his cheek lovingly.

He sighed and pushed some of his mussed hair out of his face. He took your hands in his. “Just… stay vigilant, alright?”

“Can do,” you said, withholding another obvious yawn.

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

He shook his head at you and sat up fully, stretching his arms above his head and giving you a clear view of the scar on his back. You sat up and kissed his bare shoulder.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeated.

“Mhm.” Astarion passed you one of his shirts. “Come on, darling, let’s get a move on.” He tossed on a spare shirt and watched you as you pulled his shirt over your head.

“There’s still a little time before sunrise,” you said.

Astarion snorted and fixed some of your hair that was sticking up from putting on his shirt. “You could stay here if you want. Drown in your own drool. Up to you.”

You huffed at him, making him laugh again.

“Only joking, my love.”

“Sure,” you said, opening the flaps of your tent and crawling out into the blue that preceded dawn.

You went to stand, but felt Astarion’s cool fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you back. He turned you slightly and caught your lips in a kiss, one that wiped away whatever fake ire you had towards him and replaced it with a dopey grin.

“What was that for?” you asked when he pulled away.

“Delicious,” he breathed, raising a seductive eyebrow.

You laughed and grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

You’d only been able to catch two more sunrises with Astarion following the one you watched the morning after you’d slept together for the first time. You’d woken up once on your own after Astarion gently shifted himself away from you, and another time when he woke you up purposely, not wanting to be alone with his thoughts. You’d whine and moan whenever he let you sleep in, despite the fact that it was probably for the best to keep you in tip top shape for fighting and recharging your magic. He’d always find his way back to you, and you knew he needed his own space sometimes, but you still loved to watch him bask in the golden light of the morning and you couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed whenever you felt his gentle hand on your back before opening your eyes and seeing that the sun was already up.

Astarion led you through the forest again, his hand holding yours firmly. You knew your way to the ravine lookout by now, but you liked not having to take the lead for once. He helped you across the little stream that led into the clearing where you first laid together and you felt your cheeks flush at the memory.

“I can hear your heart picking up speed, darling.” He turned to smirk at you. “You’re adorable.”

“Pardon me for still being shy,” you half-joked.

“Mmm,” Astarion hummed. “I’ll pound that out of you eventually.” He furrowed his brow sensually at you and you scoffed.

“Shut up.”

“I, of course, don’t have to-”

You made a whiny sound and he laughed.

“I know, my love,” he said, removing his hand from yours and instead wrapping his arm around you to pull you close. “You’ve been so patient for me,” he nipped at your earlobe. “So good.”

“I’m in no rush,” you reassured on a shaky exhale.

Astarion made his own whiny sound and pulled you closer, leading you to the cliff’s edge where he’d opened up to you willingly for the first time, just a few days ago.

He sat, pulling you down with him, far enough away from the edge, where he knew you wouldn’t be nervous of falling. In the distance, the sky was just starting to indicate the sun’s arrival.

You sighed happily and rested your head on his shoulder. You felt him tense a little. “Is this alright?”

Instead of answering, he leaned his head on top of yours.

“What’s something you want to do in the Underdark?” you probed.

Astarion groaned. “You don’t need to make small talk with me, darling, sometimes silence is golden.”

You scrunched your nose, knowing he hated pure silence. “I wasn’t being polite, I genuinely wanted to know.”

He groaned again. “Even worse.”

You laughed lightly and felt him laugh too, his arm gently shaking against your own.

He thought for a moment before he responded. “That Zhentarim fellow we met mentioned a cache of supplies hidden somewhere down there. That might be fun to pillage.”

You laughed. “I’m surprised you ever stopped thinking about that!”

“Oh I didn’t, but I wanted you to think your little thought experiment had actually evoked some sort of… thought… in me.” He made a face.

“Want to try and rephrase that?”

“Not particularly.”

You hummed fondly, taking one of his hands in your own and examining how your fingers slotted together just so.

“I suppose you want me to ask you the same question?” Astarion asked, clearly not wanting to ask.

You laughed. “Your interest in my interests always astounds me, Astarion.”

He rubbed his cheek against the top of your head. “Get better interests and I might actually want to pay attention.”

“Rude,” you muttered, a smile on your face. “But since you so desperately want to know, I’ll answer anyway.”

“Oh, goodie.”

You thought about it. There wasn’t actually all that much you knew about the Underdark, aside from the few mentions of it in the books you’d read growing up. One thing did stick out in your mind.

“Singing mushrooms.”

“........What?”

“I read somewhere that apparently there are colonies of sentient mushroom people who communicate through song.”

Astarion pulled his head off of yours to hang it in front of himself instead, groaning loudly. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“It’s not! It’s fascinating!”

“Sentient mushrooms?”

“Yes.”

“That sing?”

“Yes.”

Astarion shook his head. “Am I still asleep? Do you hear yourself?”

“I’m not making it up!” you exclaimed incredulously. When he didn’t say anything else, you crossed your arms in front of yourself. “We’re going to see the mushrooms.”

“Whatever you say, darling.” He kissed the top of your head almost pityingly.

“You’re an ass,” you said, pulling away from him and sitting back on your forearms. The sky was turning a faint pinkish orange in the distance. You snickered to yourself. “More like Ass-starion.”

The ass in question scowled. “That will not be one of your pet names for me.”

You shrugged. “I’m surprised no one’s called you that before.”

“I’ve been called far worse.” Astarion tilted his head up pompously, as if nothing you could say would hurt him.

“Okay great, so ‘Ass’ is nothing new.”

He sighed heavily. “It’s like you want me to throw you off the cliff.”

“Go ahead,” you challenged, catching his eye mischievously, knowing his threat was empty.

Astarion looked at you and then towards the horizon. He inhaled deeply and rose to his feet.

“What are you doing?” you laughed nervously as he approached the cliff’s edge that gave way into the ravine below.

He peered over the edge, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

You shifted uncomfortably and sat up completely straight. “Astarion, please be careful, you’re making me nervous.”

He ignored you and walked along the edge, looking past a batch of trees and into the distance to your right. He nodded and turned back towards where you sat.

“Up you go,” Astarion approached you and gestured his thumb upwards, indicating that he wanted you to stand. When he reached you, he helped you to your feet.

“You’re not actually going to throw me off the cliff, are you?” You kept your tone playful, but the anxiety you were masking was obvious.

Astarion smirked. “Stop annoying me and I won’t have to.”

You rolled your eyes and began to follow him as he started walking to the right, down a slanted slope and into a patch of trees.

“What’s happening?” you asked when you caught up with him.

Astarion tilted his head. “I just thought an occasion such as this needed a change of scenery.”

“‘Occasion?’” you echoed.

He nodded. “It’s my last day in the sun-” he saw you about to protest and quickly added, “-for a little while. Might as well start the day off right.”

You hummed. “Why do I get the sense that you’re up to something?”

Astarion stopped in his tracks, a hand held to his unbeating heart in mock offense. “Me? Up to something? You’re far too paranoid, darling.”

“Uh huh.” You kept walking, but quickly realized you didn’t actually know where you were going. You looked back at Astarion for help and found him watching you.

He rolled his eyes affectionately. “This way, dear, it’s not much farther.” He walked past you, deeper into the trees, and kept talking. “Did you know that that ravine we’ve been sitting above gives way into what I can only assume is either the Chianthar or the Sea of Swords?”

“I didn’t,” you said. “Though those are two very different bodies of water.”

“Give me a break, my geography lessons occurred well over 200 years ago. And we’re in the gods damn middle of nowhere, might I remind you.”

“Mhm,” you affirmed with a smile. “Go on.”

“Well, it just so happens that that ravine’s mouth isn’t far from our little sunrise spot.”

“‘Our?’” you teased.

“Focus, darling,” he said. He turned to the left, leading you back towards the cliff’s edge that had continued along the treeline.

“Astarion, please be careful,” you called after him, hesitantly following him towards the sound of rushing water.

He turned back and held out a steadying hand for you as you approached the edge. Not too far below you were narrow rapids that gradually became calmer. The cliff that had been on the other side of the one you currently found yourself on had disappeared, forming a mouth where the ravine did in fact empty into a much larger, much calmer, body of water.

You wrapped your arms around Astarion’s middle to anchor yourself and leaned forward a little to see where the cliff you were on ended. A little farther down, you squinted to adjust your eyes to the dim lighting, and saw a tiny beach that quickly shot upwards into a new cliff. Rocks surrounded the shore, keeping it slightly out of view, and gentle waves lapped at the sand, far enough away from the rapids of the ravine to remain serene.

You caught Astarion’s eye and pointed towards the small patch of sand in the distance. “Is that where we’re going?”

Astarion pursed his lips. “Yes, that would be much easier than jumping in, wouldn’t it?”

You scoffed. “You expected me to jump in from this high up? There could be rocks we can’t see! And we don’t know how deep it is!”

Astarion sighed. “You’re no fun. Though I suppose you’re right, I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” With your arms still around his middle, he started walking back into the trees and down towards the tiny beach.

You laughed as he dragged you along. “You can’t possibly be serious. You’d get your hair all wet!”

“Nobody said I was going to jump in with you,” he teased.

“I’m not going in alone,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Pity,” he tutted. “I like it when you’re wet.” He smirked and you shoved yourself away from him.

You picked up your pace to put distance between the two of you. When you didn’t hear his footsteps gaining on you, you decided to quickly slip behind a tree, hoping you’d lost him and that you’d be able to jump out to scare him as he sauntered past.

Unfortunately, nothing but silence greeted you. After a heartbeat or two, you peered around the trunk of your hiding spot but saw no sign of his sleek frame or shock of white hair. You started to second guess yourself; was it possible he’d passed you already? Or that he stopped, out of sight for some reason?

“You’ll have to do better than that, darling,” came his voice softly next to your ear.

You yelped and clutched at your heart, which raced with surprise.

Astarion sighed happily. “I do love the sound of your blood pumping.��

“How do you do that?” you asked, breathing deeply to calm yourself.

“Years of practice.” He paused. “Centuries, even.”

You conceded with a nod. “I shouldn’t have even tried.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. The effort was hardly there, either.”

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes and continued on through the trees down to the beach.

“I mean honestly, have these weeks on the road with me taught you nothing about stealth?”

“I play music for a living. My job is making noise.”

“And I don’t know why I even try at this point.” He raised his eyebrows playfully.

“You like my noise,” you said, sing-songingly.

“You’re loud, I’ll give you that.”

It was then that you emerged from the trees and onto a grassy dune that sloped downward onto the flat sand below. You slid down the dune with as much grace as you could muster, only falling on your ass once, before taking off your shoes and sinking your toes into the cool sand that made up the shoreline. Astarion followed after you, his long strides keeping him upright and as elegant as ever. He came to stand next to you, taking his own shoes off and placing them neatly beside yours.

You exhaled wistfully and grabbed Astarion’s bicep, leaning your head onto his shoulder. From here, you had a clear view of the sun on the horizon. The sky was a deep shade of pink, giving way to golds and oranges the closer you watched. You looked at Astarion, whose eyes were focused on the sunrise in the distance.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked quietly.

Astarion looked over at you and blinked. Then he smiled. “Just that it’s truly a wonder you’ve made it this far in life.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, shocked and amused.

You could tell he was holding in a laugh. “You are inept at hiding and fall down sand dunes. What were we thinking when we started following you around Faerûn?”

“I’ll push you into the water, pretty boy.”

“I’d pull you in with me, my love.”

“Touché,” you smiled and released his arm, sitting on the sand. You pulled your legs to your chest and rested your cheek on your knee. Around you, reeds and tall grass swayed in the morning breeze. Astarion remained standing, watching the horizon.

As much as you enjoyed watching the sunrise, you enjoyed watching Astarion watch it more. The way his attention became transfixed on the sky, the way the vibrant light painted itself onto him like a blank canvas, the way his entire body relaxed when the warmth of the sun finally reached his skin.

You heard him sigh and watched as he walked forward a little, allowing the tiny waves rolling off the water to rush gently over his toes. He flinched a little in shock and you let out an affectionate breath through your nose.

“Cold?” you asked.

“You know, it’s funny,” Astarion said, his voice a million miles away. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to move through water like this.”

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brow. “I’ve seen you in the lake at camp before.”

“I don’t know, I guess I haven’t given it too much thought until now. Normally, I can’t move through running water like this. Don’t ask me why, it’s one of those idiotic vampire laws dictated by some ancient devil with an infuriating sense of humor. I can bathe, sure, but I haven’t been proper swimming since… before.”

You stayed quiet as he moved further into the water, letting the waves wash over his ankles.

“I have to imagine I knew how to swim at one point,” he said quietly.

“I could teach you,” you offered. “I was going to teach Shadowheart at some point too. You’re welcome to join us if you want.”

Astarion snorted. “And look like a fool in front of the cleric? I’ll pass.”

“You don’t need swim lessons to look like a fool,” you clarified.

“Ha ha,” he said humorlessly.

You got up and joined him in the ankle deep water. “Do you want to try right now?”

Astarion thought for a moment and clicked his tongue. “I have a better idea, actually.” He gave you a sideways look, his lips quirking up slightly.

“What?” you matched his smile.

Rather than answering, Astarion reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

You furrowed your brow. “Looks an awful lot like you’re preparing to swim.”

He started fiddling with the clasps on his pants and groaned in your direction. “Swimming is not the only thing one can do while submerged in water, dearest.” He gave you a sensual smile that sent heat to your cheeks.

“Oh,” you said, stiffly watching him undress. “Should I-?” you awkwardly pulled at the collar of his shirt that was currently resting on your shoulders.

He straightened, naked but for his underwear. He frowned a little.

“You don’t have to do anything, my love. I just thought we might have some fun while watching the sunrise.”

You bit your bottom lip, thinking it over. “I do like fun.”

“I know that about you.” Astarion walked towards you and reached for the hem of your shirt. “May I?”

You nodded and lifted your arms to help. He took the shirt and tossed it over to where he’d discarded his own clothes. He stepped closer to you, pulling you to him so that you were chest to chest, and nuzzled his nose into the area where your neck met your shoulder. He placed a slow, gentle kiss there that had you inhaling sharply and exhaling unevenly. He groaned with need before pulling back and readjusting to kiss your lips. He came at it with more force than you were expecting, causing you to stumble back a little, but his hands firmly gripped your biceps, keeping you steady. You suppressed a giggle and instead smiled against his mouth before opening up for him and allowing his tongue to meet yours. Astarion hummed with pleasure, moving his mouth against yours and bringing his hands up to tangle in your hair. When he finally pulled away, he left one more chaste kiss against your lips before fully pulling back.

His eyes were alight with something that morphed into joy when he saw the gooey grin on your face. He rolled his eyes affectionately before looking you up and down and exhaling a laugh.

“You are perfect,” he said, almost in awe.

You smiled. “When?”

Astarion pulled you closer, his eyes narrowing seductively. “Every time.”

You snickered and pulled away from him, a teasing grin plastered on his face. You bent to remove your own pants and watched to see what Astarion would do next. When you saw him reach for his underwear, you averted your eyes and heard him laugh.

“Nothing new over here, darling,” he said, and the soft splashing sounds that followed indicated he’d walked into the water.

“I know,” you replied, embarrassed. You turned back towards him and shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”

“Well, cut it out,” he called, now knee deep in the water. His body was rigid from the temperature, his shoulders rising up to his ears. He turned back to look back at you, still standing on the shore. “Illmater’s blood-stained RACK, this is cold!”

“I don’t know what you expected,” you called back, hugging your arms to your chest and trying to convince yourself to brave the frigid waters and join him.

“I rather expected you would be in here with me to keep me warm,” he said, turning back towards the sunrise ahead of him.

You quickly pulled off your underwear and started walking into the water, tensing at the cold, but willing yourself to keep going.

“If you wanted my blood, you could have just asked,” you said when you finally reached him.

“There you are, darling,” Astarion said and grabbed your hand.

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Brace yourself,” he tipped his head forward a little.

“What?”

Without warning, Astarion lowered himself into the water so that it was just below his shoulders, and pulled you down with him. You hadn’t expected to be yanked so forcefully and unsurprisingly lost your footing. You plunged downward, reaching your free hand out to break your fall and ended up dunking your face below the surface. You were submerged for less than a second, but you came up sputtering and made eye contact with a gleeful vampire. He sucked in his lips to keep from laughing.

“And what was that?” you asked blandly, flicking wet tendrils of hair out of your face.

“Apologies, darling, I didn’t mean for you to get your pretty hair all wet,” he pouted at you and sounded less than sympathetic.

“Uh huh,” you narrowed your eyes at him. You crawled closer to him, made weightless by the water, and sat beside him, the water level reaching slightly higher on your chest than his. You scooted back a little and dragged your arm out behind you. You pushed it forward quickly, creating a splash that soaked the back of Astarion’s head. He instantly hunched forward and yelped.

“How dare you?!” he exclaimed, his curls flattening and falling partially into his face.

“Whoops,” you shrugged. Your eyes widened when you saw him wind his own arm back in retaliation and quickly dunked your head below the surface to avoid his onslaught of water.

When you reemerged, you heard Astarion snicker.

“Look at that,” he said, his tone mocking, “you’re all wet for me.”

You wasted no time in splashing him directly in the face.

“Let’s not do this,” he said flatly, his eyes closed. He brought his hands up to wipe the water off his face, even though his hands were equally wet.

“But now you’re all wet for me,” you teased.

“I’ll show you what I am,” Astarion growled and took your hand underwater. He pulled you closer and led your hand to his cock, which was already rigid with desire, despite the temperature of the water.

You made eye contact with him as you started pumping your hand up and down his shaft and he hissed out a breath.

“Easy, darling,” he said shakily.

“What’s the matter?” you asked, close to his ear. “Don’t you want to cum while watching the sunrise?”

Astarion groaned and you moved your hand up to swipe your thumb across his tip and then back down to continue pumping. You lifted your weightless body up and swung your leg around so that you were sitting between his legs, facing him head on with the sunrise at your back.

“I know what would make you even harder,” you cooed, wiping wet hair out of his face with your free hand. Instead of finishing the thought, you tilted your head to the side, offering up your neck to him.

Astarion’s eyes, half lidded with lust, went wide and looked at you. You nodded to him, and he pulled you closer to his chest, kissing your throat feverishly upon contact. Your hand was still wedged between your legs, twisting around Astarion’s length. He moaned as he nosed along your throat for where your pulse thrummed the strongest.

“Thank you,” he said before sinking his fangs into you.

You let out a moan of your own, your mouth falling open as goosebumps broke out along your arms. The cold water mixed with the ice in your veins created a delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. The hand pumping Astarion’s length started to slow as you felt yourself focusing instead on the satisfyingly dull thrum that came with him drinking from you.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured against your skin, kissing your throat and licking a few wayward drops of blood that had escaped before returning to his meal.

You made a noise of affirmation and squeezed his dick before continuing to twist your hand up and down, from base to tip and back down again.

Astarion whined lamely and dug his nails into your scalp and shoulder, which in turn made you moan wantonly. You rolled your hips, trying to find some relief of your own and ended up brushing your clit against the base of his cock. You both groaned in pleasure and you brought your free hand up to tangle into his hair as you continued rolling your hips.

“Hah,” Astarion huffed sweetly as he pulled himself away from your throat, his cool breath made warm by your blood. He licked at the wounds he left behind and kissed them gratefully before angling his head to kiss your mouth deeply.

The metallic tang of your blood on his tongue sent a chill through your body and you opened your eyes when you felt Astarion’s hands make their way to your hips. You broke the kiss to give him a curious look.

He returned your look with a blissed out smirk. “I want you to ride me,” he drawled.

Your eyes widened and the hand that was still working his cock slowed to a stop.

He surged forward to kiss you again and moved his hands to your ass, where he lifted your weightless form to position you over his length.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I thought I was close to getting you off.”

“You were, sweet girl, but I’d much rather finish inside, if it’s all the same to you.”

Your lips quirked up. “I think we can make that work.”

Taking his cock into your hand again, you guided the head to your entrance before sinking down on him slowly. Astarion’s eyes closed in satisfaction and he tipped his head up to the sky, golden light painting his beautiful face into something ethereal. You sucked in a breath and rested your forehead on his shoulder, taking a second to adjust to this new sensation. You hadn’t ridden him yet, nor had you ever fooled around in water, by yourself or otherwise.

Astarion kissed your ear before encouraging you: “Use me, my love. You’re deliciously warm.”

You nodded and tested lifting yourself up a little and bringing yourself back down. Your mouth dropped open and you adjusted your legs so you were resting on your knees, making it easier to bob on his dick. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you lifted yourself higher and brought yourself down with more force.

“That’s it,” Astarion cooed, “take your pleasure from me.”

“Touch me,” you whined, rolling your hips and picking up the pace of your bouncing.

“With pleasure,” he bent forward to kiss your neck, bringing his hand down to circle your clit. His other hand came up to squeeze your breast.

“You make me feel so good,” you sighed, raking your nails over the ridges on his back.

“The feeling is mutual, d-arling,” his voice caught when you brought yourself down on his cock. “And I’m the only one who can make you feel this good,” he grazed his fangs across your collarbone.

“I don’t know,” you said, your body shuddering with euphoria, “Halsin seems like he could give you a run for your money.”

Astarion raised a disbelieving eyebrow at you.

“Teasing, my love,” you kissed him softly before letting out a loud “Ah!” when he started raising his hips to meet yours.

“Oh really?” he asked, his voice coming out like a growl. “You think Halsin could fuck you as well as I can?”

“Hah,” you half laughed, half moaned. “I think technically, in this position, I’m fucking you?” A lopsided grin graced your lips. “But I don’t know, I’m new to all this.”

“Funny,” Astarion remarked sarcastically and pulled his hand away from your clit, making you whimper in protest.

“Hey!”

“Take it back.”

“Take what back? I already said I was teasing!”

“Say I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.”

You smiled, panting and still riding him beneath the surface of the water. “Are you jealous or something?”

“Hardly,” he rolled his eyes. “But you’re mine and it wouldn’t kill you to remind yourself of that.”

“Sounds an awful lot like jealousy to me.”

Astarion groaned in what sounded like frustration and pleasure. “Do you want to cum or not?”

You leaned forward and kissed him deeply, moving your mouth slowly in time with the rhythm of your hips. When you pulled away, a string of saliva connected you to his lower lip.

“Astarion,” you said softly, “I don’t ever want anyone else to fuck me. Only you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

The smirk on Astarion’s face was smug. “Because?”

You rolled your eyes. “Because I’m yours, you stupid bat.” You kissed him, then whispered conspiratorially, “And I like you the most out of everyone at camp.”

“You flatter me,” Astarion said, immediately returning to his ministrations on your clit. You gasped at the contact, which quickly morphed into a moan of delight as you rested your forehead on his shoulder again. His hips rose to meet yours once more and the moan he let out as a result sounded as if he’d been holding it in for a while. Perhaps it was to sound eloquent during your back and forth, but the noise was music to your ears.

“Am I making you feel good?” you asked a little shyly.

Astarion opened one of his eyes to look at you. “My sweet, you’ve only ever made me feel good.”

“I know that’s not true.”

“It’s not, but it is true about the sex.”

“Thank the gods,” you laughed, though you shut your eyes tightly when Astarion hit a particularly pleasant spot inside you with a roll of his hips. “Whatever you just hit felt heavenly,” you relayed to him.

“Good to know,” he said mischievously, and repositioned you on his lap so he could rise to meet that spot every time you sank down on him.

“Oh, Astarion,” you sighed, a grin overtaking your features.

“You like that, love?” he nipped at your shoulder.

“Yes,” you sighed again.

Your bounces on his cock were starting to become sloppy as the knot of your climax began to build low in your stomach. You moved your hand to his and reversed the direction he was currently circling your clit.

“I’m close,” you confessed.

“Thank the gods, so am I,” Astarion’s voice was strained.

You opened your eyes to watch him as he approached his own peak and exhaled dreamily at the sight of him, bathed in the orange glow of the sun which was now halfway risen.

“You’re so beautiful,” you whispered, “and I like you so much.”

“Don’t make me throw up when I’m trying to cum,” he opened up an eye and smirked at you. “You’re not half bad yourself, gorgeous thing.” He groaned when you sat back down on him forcefully. “Now, would you cum for me already? I’m dying here.”

“Almost there,” you laughed. “And you’re dead already.”

“You’re making this very difficult, darling.”

“Let me help you then,” you said, reaching a hand forward and lightly caressing his balls.

Astarion’s mouth hung open in silent pleasure, his fangs glistening in the emerging sunshine. He watched you wordlessly as you leaned forward.

“You’re so powerful,” you purred next to his ear. “You make me feel so good, and you’re the only one who can fuck me this well. The others will never know how good I feel because I’m yours and I’ll only ever be yours. You’re the only one who will ever be inside of me.”

“That’s right,” he groaned. “Your cunt is mine and I love the way it feels around me. The way it grips me so tight. You filthy thing, letting a vampire take your innocence. I could have killed you and instead I brought you the most pleasure you’ve ever felt. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “Astarion, please. Need to feel your cum in me.”

“You want this cock forever, darling? Prove it. Prove you want it by cumming for me and screaming my name.”

His command brought you to your peak and you wailed out in pure ecstasy. His name fell from your lips like a prayer, over and over, and your cunt gripped him like a vice, as if claiming it for itself. In return, Astarion groaned loudly and spilled inside of you, moaning your name repeatedly and throwing his head back in rapture and delight.

As you came down from your high, you leaned forward to place sloppy kisses on his exposed throat. He brought both his arms around you and pulled you closer as he returned from his climax.

“You are-” he didn’t finish his sentence before crushing his lips into yours, moaning pathetically and you giggled in response. He bit your bottom lip with his blunt front teeth before releasing it and peppering kisses along your cheeks and jaw.

“Go on,” you teased, encouraging him to finish his thought.

He looked as if he wanted to argue, but instead gave in and said, “You’re wonderful.”

The words caught you off guard and you bent forward to kiss him in a way that you hoped conveyed your gratitude.

“I think you’re wonderful, too.”

“Obviously,” Astarion smirked.

You pushed him backwards, causing him to slip and submerge his head fully underwater briefly.

“My hair was just starting to dry, you wretched beast!” he sputtered, looking appalled.

“Aw, but you’re so pretty like this!” You brushed some wet hair out of his eyes.

“Um, hello? I’m always pretty, darling.”

“Ah, you’re right, how could I forget.” You gingerly lifted yourself off of Astarion and floated yourself to sit beside him, facing the sunrise.

“Perhaps you’ve had the lovely head of yours hit in battle one too many times.”

“That must be it,” you agreed jokingly, resting your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head on top of yours in return. You sighed happily, enjoying the vibrant hues of the sky above, still filled with the euphoria of your high and the presence of the man beside you.

“I really do like you, so much,” you said softly, accompanied by the quiet lapping of the waves on the shore nearby.

“Ugh,” Astarion groaned. “Let’s not get sentimental, darling. After we just had such an excellent time together.”

You laughed. “Pardon me for wanting to express my feelings.”

“You are pardoned.” He gave you a sideways smile.

“Thank you, Mr. Magistrate.”

“Of course, beloved citizen.”

You both laughed quietly and returned to a pleasant silence. The sun rose steadily up into the sky and you knew you’d have to head back to camp soon to help pack up, but for now, you were content to sit and watch the horizon with your favorite traveling companion.

“How are you doing that?” Astarion asked, breaking the silence.

“Doing what?”

“Tickling my thighs. Did you cast mage hand or something of the sort?”

You sat up a bit more to look and snorted.

“Astarion, my love, I think it’s a fish that’s tickling you.”

“Ah,” he said calmly. Then he shot up, flinging you backwards and underwater. When you came up for air, he was rushing towards the shore, barreling through the water.

“At least it had the decency to wait until we were finished!” you called after him.

Astarion ignored you. “Slimy, disgusting, vile creatures!” He shook out his entire body as if he couldn’t rid himself of the sensation.

You watched him with adoration as he muttered to himself about how irredeemable that particular fish was as he pulled on his pants. It was then that you felt your heart swell with something big and alarming.

Oh no.

You were in love with him.

Fuck!

384 notes · View notes

kamaluhkhan · 1 year ago

Text

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!!

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you.

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock.

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs.

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap.

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side.

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.”

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word.

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo.

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?”

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure.

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts:

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you.

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend.

friend.

if you could still call him that.

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.”

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air.

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling.

“me too, kid.”

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze.

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left.

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him.

“perce! hey!”

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.”

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood.

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack.

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium.

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways.

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed.

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees.

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing.

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure.

but, there were other things, too.

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes.

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving.

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection.

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of.

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.”

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed.

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him.

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then.

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge.

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house.

something in luke softens, then. he sighs.

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on.

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke.

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially.

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too.

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.”

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.”

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up.

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.”

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles.

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this.

about you.

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were.

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?”

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy.

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though.

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you.

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand.

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own.

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos.

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways).

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here.

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply.

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you.

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you.

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant.

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.”

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan angst #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty

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