#(and yes; it was raining but it was so mild it didn’t take away from the journey)

[xuseokgyu]

I JUST KNEW ABOUT YOUR BDAY

HAPPY BELATED I HOPE YOU HAD AN AMAZING DAY BELLE 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hi Eboni!!!!

Thank you so much 🥰🥰🥰

I did have an amazing day! Sharing some pics under the cut hehehe of you ever come to Portugal I definitely recommend visiting Porto

[mrsevans90]

Double Life

Summary: Charlotte has gone on a few dates with a journalist named Clark Kent and she really feels like she’s falling for him. She has noticed some odd behavior from him every once in a while, but the worst part is not knowing if he’s truly interested in her. Why won’t he make a move? Is he just taking things extremely slow? Are her feelings for him unrequited? She finds the answers to all of her questions in the most embarrassing way imaginable. 

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Clark Kent/Superman x Female Reader Charlotte

Brief mention of Bruce Wayne x Female Reader

Word Count: 5,060 

Warnings: SMUT; masturbation, voyeur, oral (f), oral (m), squirting, cum swallowing, fingering, P in V intercourse, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), dirty talk, rough sex, language.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d

A/N: This story came to me in a dream and I woke up and immediately typed the idea in my notes section of my phone. This is my very FIRST attempt at writing anything on Tumblr so all I ask is please be kind and if you love it then please comment and REPOST! Thank you for reading! 

*CHARLOTTE POV*

I woke up early Saturday morning. It seems impossible to sleep in now that I’ve become so used to being at the office by 8 am every morning. I feel a bit jittery after my date last night and am thankful for the wine that I consumed being the only reason I even was able to fall asleep. I lay in bed as my thoughts run wild. I know I should be getting out of bed and going for a run in an attempt to get rid of this pent-up energy, but glancing towards my bedroom window shows a dreary overcast day with a potential for rain. I toss and turn trying to find a comfortable position while my brain races thinking of last night. A handsome and often quiet man named Clark Kent had taken me on our fifth date. He was absolutely gorgeous, well dressed with his hair combed back, strong jaw with dimpled chin and black framed glasses. His incredible physique and handsome features are only partially what attracts me to him. His generous and mild-mannered personality and intelligence were a huge turn on. The attraction I feel for Clark is more than I ever remember feeling for a man before. My dating life since getting cheated on by my long-term high school boyfriend has been very short lived which I was fine with until now. I feel like I’ve continually held men at arm’s length, settling for a few one-night stands but nothing more in an attempt to spare my heart from more heartache. I realized after our third date that I wanted more with Clark and that he was worth the risk but I honestly am not sure how he feels about me. Yes, he’s continued to ask me on dates; taking me to dinner several times and even to a movie, yet he hasn’t made any more advances other than holding my hand and a cordial peck on the cheek. He walks me to my door after each date and ends our evening with a hug, kiss on the cheek and a goodnight. After our fourth date, I asked him if he’d like to come inside, however, he politely declined. I’m going out of my mind trying to figure out if he’s even interested but I haven’t built up the courage to ask him yet. I doubt I would even get the chance after I essentially stuck my foot in my mouth on the walk home from dinner with him last night. 

*Flashback to last night*

We walked past a storefront near my apartment that was advertising superman shirts for children and I commented how cute they were. I had noticed over the past month, that Clark was very quiet anytime I mentioned the famous Superman around him. Why couldn’t I just take the hint that he was uncomfortable?

“You know, you look an awful lot like Superman. I bet if you dressed as him for your work Halloween party, people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in you both!” I said with a smile that quickly went away when I noticed him flinch.

Unfortunately, I didn’t stop my nervous rambling there. In my attempt to lighten the mood, I said, “I wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out that you actually are Superman! Ha ha! Do you have a secret identity you’re keeping from me, Clark?” I said with a wink. 

When I looked at Clark he seemed withdrawn and somewhat nervous. 

“No, no. I’m certainly not that interesting.” Clark quickly responded while looking at his feet as we walked into my apartment building.

“I’ve enjoyed tonight but I have to get going. I have, um… I have an early start in the morning attempting to interview people in Gotham City about the latest crime statistics.” Clark told me before I could even invite him inside. He seemed fidgety and awkward as he kept glancing anywhere but at my eyes.

“On a Saturday?” I ask and he quickly nodded while avoiding eye contact with me.

“Good journalism never takes a day off.” He said with an embarrassed smile. 

“I could possibly help. I have Bruce Wayne’s contact information if you’d like it. I’m sure he could be an interesting person to interview for your article.”

“You do? Why? I mean, how do you know him?” He responded with an arched eyebrow as he finally made eye contact with me for the first time in the past few minutes.

“Well, almost two months ago I met him at a charity gala for the Children’s hospital. He came over and spoke to me for a bit before he asked me on a date. It was the day after you asked me if I would go to dinner with you so I politely turned him down. He gave me his business card in case I changed my mind.” I responded quickly. Why does this feel so awkward? I didn’t do anything wrong but I still feel like he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure it’s on my desk in the apartment, if you’d like to come inside?” I ask as a last stitch effort to see if I had completely ruined this date.

“No, no that’s not necessary…Thank you, I appreciate the offer though. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” Clark asked with his typical kiss on the cheek. 

“Oh…okay. Goodnight Clark.”

“Goodnight Charlotte.” He responded before turning and beelining for the exit. 

“Way to go, Char. Could you be any more of a dumbass?” I quietly said to myself as I closed my apartment door and went to get ready for bed.

*Present Day*

As I continue to lay in bed I begin thinking about Clark and think about how large and strong his hand was as he cradled my small one in his while we walked to the restaurant. The veins in his muscular arms, and his strong, sharp jaw. My arousal begins to dampen my panties which I quickly remove and lay back in only my white tank top. Guess this will be the only sexual relief I will be getting for a long time. I thought to myself as I reach for the vibrator in my nightstand and begin pleasuring myself. After only a few minutes, I have kicked off my covers as my body begins to glisten with perspiration, and begin pleading for my orgasm to arrive. My eyes clamped shut, I imagine Clark’s large, strong chest against my own, his arms on either side of my head as he pumps what I can only imagine is a perfect and large cock into my warmth. I imagine his beautiful blue eyes staring into my own as he presses kisses to my body and sucks on my neck.

“Clark! Please, please, please, Clark! Ugh! I need you!” I say verbally as I continue to spur myself on in this filthy fantasy. 

CLARK POV:

Across town I am scrambling some eggs on the stove as I think about last night. Had Charlotte actually figured out my secret? Something the rest of the world seemed oblivious too? Or was she just joking and truly unaware? I had to deny it even though she was absolutely correct. I cringed as I began thinking about Bruce hitting on her. It’s not shocking since she’s possibly the most naturally stunning, intelligent, and interesting woman I have ever met. I believe I made it clear with him on the phone after I came home last night to stay away from my girl. I know she’s not technically mine, or a possession to own, but I have more claim to her heart than Bruce and I won’t allow him to interfere. Before I even realize it, I have squeezed a hand shaped imprint around the flimsy handle of the pan I was using.

“Damnit!” I mutter to myself.

I feel like Charlotte is getting impatient with me. It’s obvious that she wants more but how do I handle a relationship with someone I can’t be fully honest with. I want to tell her, I want her to fully know me but I feel like I can’t. I think back to how Lois was used essentially as bait when we were dating. The paranoia and pressure of being Superman’s personal kryptonite and obvious weakness was too much for both of us. Now, she was happily engaged to an engineer in the city. I’m delighted for her, she deserves true happiness yet I wonder if I’ll ever get to experience the same. I couldn’t stop myself from asking Charlotte on a date. The moment I saw her walking into the office next to me, I was lovestruck. Her long blonde hair, tight but professional dress with heels and most importantly crystal blue eyes. She was independent and driven as the head of marketing for her department. Yet, she still had this kindness about her as I watched her enter her building and the front desk guard hug her while thanking her for the toys she had sent home for his young children. She smiled genuinely and made him promise to bring his wife and children for a visit soon. God how I wanted every bit of her. I wanted her body, her mind, her future. The fourth time I saw her, I couldn’t help myself as I made my way towards her and “accidentally” bumped into her. We began a conversation and I was hooked. Before I could even think about the potential consequences, I was asking her to dinner. My cock ached as I thought about her in the shower last night after our date. Hell, I may be an alien but I still have sexual urges. She smelled and looked so beautiful. I could imagine her breasts pressed against my body. I daydreamt about the softness of her lips and the sounds she might make as I slowly took her apart. It has been almost impossible to turn down her invitations to join her in her apartment. I haven’t even allowed myself to kiss her because I’m scared to go any further and get more attached only to have her walk away if she finds out my secret. Was this self-preservation or just stupidity? I’m jolted out of my thoughts as I hear her voice louder than all the others noises going on around me thanks to my super hearing. I listen carefully as I hear her calling my name.

“Clark! Please, please, please, Clark! I need you!” 

I hear her whine and she sounds as if she is out of breath. Without thinking I jump into my Superman suit and bolt out of the window straight into the sky headed towards Charlotte’s apartment. As I get closer, I can hear her whimper along with her accelerated heartrate and I panic thinking she’s in trouble. I reach her unlocked window and slide it open before flying in. Her apartment smells just like her, floral and clean. I focus on her heartbeat and the quiet buzzing sound that I originally thought was coming from the apartment below hers. As soon as I open the door I smell her arousal at the same moment I watch her reach her climax with her eyes clamped shut. 

“Yes, baby!” She cries out. Her legs are parted as she holds a small purple vibrator against her clit and I can see and smell how turned on she is as her pussy glistens with her want. Her breasts are barely contained in a thin white tank top as they heave up and down while she breathes through her orgasm.

Fuck! I’m such a pervert. I need to get out of here before she sees me!

I can’t help but stare at her as she’s laying there twitching from her euphoria. I reach for the door to carefully close it before I realize I wasn’t quick enough.

“Oh my god!” She shouts as she pulls the covers over her body to cover her modesty. Her face blushing profusely as she stares at me.

I back up quickly with my hands in front of me until my back hits her hallway wall. “I’m so sorry. I heard you calling for me and I thought you were in pain. I swear I didn’t mean to walk in on you!” I blurt out quickly not even realizing my own mistake. Charlotte just stares at me with a shocked and bewildered look on her face.

“I’ll go, truly I’m so sorry about this, Ma’am.” I say with my eyes directed at the floor as I pray my rock-hard erection isn’t as obvious as it feels in my form fitting suit. Right as I turn to run back towards the window I hear her again.

“Wait! Please wait!”

Her eyes are wide as she slowly begins to smirk as I turn back around to face her, my eyes still drawn to the floor.

“I didn’t call out for Superman. I called out for Clark.” She says and I glance up at her with wide eyes as saucers as I realize that I had just outed my own secret. My cheeks blush and I can’t put together a single thought to respond to what she just said.

We stare at each other for what feels like minutes even though it’s only just a few seconds.

“I knew I was onto something. You’re always MIA around when Superman is on the news fighting crime, and you stiffen up anytime I mention him. You also had to leave early because of a “family emergency” on our third date but seemed confused later when I asked you if everything with your family was okay. That was the same night that serial killer was brought to the police station by Superman in Gotham. I…I hope you know that I won’t ever tell anyone, Clark. I thought you knew that you could trust me.” She says and I step towards her while remaining a safe distance.

“I’m…I’m so sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I do trust you but I’ve had to keep this secret my entire life. I was scared at how easily you caught on. I always knew you were intelligent but I was hoping I could still keep you off of the scent of my deception.” 

“It was really just a theory, but obviously this is my confirmation. Since I’m already more than embarrassed after what you just saw, I guess I really have nothing to lose if I just go ahead and ask you.”

“I’m listening.” I say as I hear her heartrate begin to increase steadily.

“Is this why you’ve held back from me? Or are you even interested in dating me? I’m absolutely fine with taking things slow if that’s what you want. I can’t help my old insecurities that make me wonder if you’re even attracted to me and are serious about taking things further with us.” She says with the sweetest innocence and I can’t help but walk towards her and reach out to stroke her cheek. She pulls for me to sit down beside her and I can’t resist.

“I am absolutely interested in dating you, sweetheart. If you only knew how infatuated I am with you, it might frighten you. You are my dream girl, the one I think about each night, and the one person I feel like truly sees to my soul, even when you only knew half of my identity. I see a future for us, Charlotte, which is why I was scared. I was scared that you would run if you found out who I am. I was scared you then might only be interested in me because I’m Superman. Simple Clark just can’t compete with all of the Superman fanfare. What scares me the most is that you could be used as a pawn by dangerous people. I can’t fathom putting you in harm's way. People could come after me and find you to use against me. Being Superman ruined my last and only real relationship so I guess I felt that if I kept ours in limbo, I could still have the time I crave with you while also not losing you. I was afraid to let you in because of my own fears. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard it was to not kiss you during our dates or come into your apartment when you invited me. I’m so sorry if I made you feel anything other than absolutely adored. I’m out of my element and have no idea what I’m doing.” Clark says the last part with an embarrassed chuckle.

“Clark, I understand your fears and your sense of self-preservation. I do it too. I often feel like I’ve built the walls around my heart too high in order to protect myself from heartache but each moment I’ve spent with you seems to lower them. I see a potential future with you too which is terrifying and exhilarating all at once because I don’t want to be heartbroken again. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you are worth the risk.  I’m not afraid of you, or being with you. I’m not going anywhere. I want you in any and every form and I won’t run away. You are the only person that has made me feel alive again in years.”

Clark smiles triumphantly before leaning down and kissing Charlotte passionately. After kissing her for several minutes, she slowly pulls back to catch her breath.

“So, you’ve seen mine… When do I get to see yours? Fair is fair.” Charlotte looks up at me sultrily as she runs her hands up and down my arms.

“Are you certain that is what you want?” I smirk as I arch my eyebrow at her.

She nods as she sits up on her knees and drops the blanket that was covering her body only clad in a thin white tank top. 

“Only if you want too.” She seductively bites her lip as she trails her fingers down my torso and gently cups my bulge that is swelling indecently against my tight suit. 

“Holy shit!” She murmurs quietly as she presses against my engorged erection and I can’t help but chuckle.

Before I even think I’m unzipping and tugging my suit off of my body at super speed before leaning over her and ripping her tank top from her torso. She squeals in excitement as I lean over her pressing our hot naked bodies against each other while pulling her into a zealous kiss.  

“You don’t know how long I’ve fantasized about having you like this, Lottie. I’ve wanted you to be mine from the moment I saw you.” I say as I touch all over her beautiful body.

“Ditto, which you obviously know since you got a front row seat to my indecent fantasies about you.” She says with a little giggle as I begin kissing down her torso after having already sucked on her pert breasts.

I make my way down her body as I become face to face with her hot, dripping core. I smell the sweet arousal coming from her and when I look up at her for permission she quickly nods as she reaches to caress my cheek. I smirk at her before I begin feasting on her sweet petals and sucking on her clit. 

“Oh my god, Clark!” She almost yells while her hands tug against my hair as she begins gyrating her hips to increase the pleasure she is receiving from my mouth. I continue for a few minutes as I feel her begin to stiffen from her orgasm. I continue to lick her gently through her orgasm but decide that I’m not finished with her yet. I want to give her an orgasm so earth shattering that she squirts her arousal all over my face. She shouts as I shove my finger into her opening, quickly followed by a second one. I curl my fingers and search for her g-spot. 

I know quickly that I’ve found it when her back arches off of the bed and she yells, “Fuck! Clark! Right there!” 

I begin shoving my fingers against the soft spongey spot while my tongue continues to flick over her clit. 

“I think I’m gonna… oh shit Clark! This feels different! Oh my god!” She squeals as her body arches off of the bed and she begins to squirt. The sounds of her squelching and dripping are lewd as I continue to work her through it. Her body almost convulses around my assault and I preen at her filthy moans. I am doing everything to keep from blowing my load on her bed. I watch as Charlotte’s whole body quickly becomes jelly-like as her muscles relax and I lightly kiss her thighs. 

“That was beautiful, baby.” I say as I press small kisses on her hips and abdomen.

“Did I? Oh my god, Clark. Did I just squirt?” She asks as her cheeks are beet red.

“You sure did baby. Soaked my face and almost made me blow my load. Did it feel good?”

“Yes, but I’m so embarrassed. I’m so sor...” She began to say before I quickly cut her off with a kiss. 

“Don’t you ever apologize for that sweetheart. That was a pure masterpiece and I hope I’ll get you to do it again at some point. I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on.” I admit before kissing her again.

“Now it’s your turn.” She smiles as she attempts to push me to the bed. It’s like a kitten trying to push a lion over which makes me grin before I quickly concede and lay on my back. 

“Babygirl, you don’t have too. I’m just happy to give you pleasure.” I tell her.

“Oh no, Mr. Kent. I’m not missing an opportunity to taste you.” Charlotte says as she begins moving down my body. I can barely lay still once she reaches my manhood and I feel her warm breath where I need her most. I groan as I take in the sight of her tiny hand wrapping around my girth as she begins to kitten lick along my length. I groan as she looks at me doe eyed before she takes me in her mouth. She has the mouth of a goddess and I’m already close before she even adds her tiny hand to pump what wouldn’t fit. I reach down and grab her long beautiful hair into a makeshift ponytail so I can watch her. I feel her tiny hand begin pulsing around my balls and groan loudly. I can’t help myself as I watch her steady herself before taking my entire length to her throat. She gags as her nose reaches my skin and she slightly pulls off before doing it again. Saliva is dripping from her chin as she continues working my cock.

“Babygirl, I’m gonna cum. You need to...fuck… stop if you don’t want it in your mouth.” 

She moans around my length as she doubles her effort and the vibrations feel heavenly. That’s all it took for me to reach my high and explode down her throat.

My body shivers in aftershocks due to the oversensitivity as Y/N continues to suck around the head of my cock and massage my balls. I look down and see that she’s swallowed everything and is smiling brightly at me. I reach down and pull her up my body as I immediately begin kissing her breathless. 

“Darling, that was incredible. Thank you.” I smile at her before I kiss down her neck. 

*CHARLOTTE POV*

My mind is empty of every thought due to the alarm bells and “OMG THIS IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING” screaming repeatedly in my head. I’m trying my best to play it off, but my fantasy is coming true and it’s even better than I ever could have imagined. Clark is not only the best kisser I’ve ever experienced, but he has the body of a Greek God. Well, in this case, he has a body of a superhero. I’ve been doing my best not to sound needy but heavens, I need him inside of me.

“Clark” I say as he continues to press gentle kisses behind my ear and the column of my neck.

“Yes angel?” 

“Please tell me I don’t have to wait long for you to be inside of me. I need you.”

He smirks above me as I feel his rigid cock against my abdomen. It didn’t go soft after his orgasm. “You want me right now?” I nod enthusiastically. 

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart. Take what you want.” Clark says huskily in my ear. For a man who seemed so reserved and shy, he has all of the confidence in the world when it comes to the bedroom. As he should!

I smile wildly as his chest vibrates against my own with a low growl as I reach his hard length and pump him a few times against my slick before pressing him to my entrance.

“Oh my god!”

“Shit!” 

We both speak simultaneously as he seats himself fully inside of me. It feels like he is reaching my lungs as he gives me a moment to adjust around his ginormous cock.

“God, Clark! You’re huge!” 

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” Clark frets even though he hasn’t moved inside of me.

“Fuck no!” I respond almost breathlessly as I wrap my hands around his biceps tightly. 

“I’ve just never been with someone as big as you. I’m okay. You can move now.”

Clark carefully pulls almost completely out of me before gently sliding all the way back in. 

“Baby girl, you are so tight and warm. You feel incredible.” He says as he starts building up a gentle rhythm. 

“You won’t break me, baby. You can go harder.” 

“I could if I’m not careful, Sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I will tell you if it starts to hurt, I swear. Relax, baby.” I say before kissing him enthusiastically. He reaches and cups my tits in his hands, massaging them gently.

Clark watches me carefully before taking a breath and slamming into me roughly. His pubic bone slamming into my clit making me shriek with the sensation.

“How’s that for harder?” He whispers.

“Oh, fuck yes, baby! Just like that! You feel so good inside of me.” I whine as my hands scratch down his back without even making a mark on his strong impenetrable skin.

“That’s right, sweet girl. I can tell you’re close. Come all over my cock. Squeeze me.” He says as my body begins milking him. 

“CLARK!” I shout.

“Call me Kal, baby. When I’m balls deep inside this sweet pussy, I want you to call me Kal.” He says with the most shit eating grin while never slowing his pace.

“Oh my god, Kal!” I moan just before my eyes roll back and I instantly come all over him.

“Fuck yes, this is the tightest little pussy in the world. So beautiful and wet and snug around me.” He grunts as he continues to slam into me. Before I realize it, he’s sitting me up in his lap so that our chests are against each other and my legs are wrapped around his waist. Clark grabs the back of my neck to press himself even closer to me as I brace my hands on his shoulders. 

��Just when I thought you couldn’t possibly become more beautiful….” Clark whispers into my ear as he grabs my ass to help me move on top of him.

“Watching your gorgeous body tremble in ecstasy is the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, Angel.”

Clark plants his feet against the floor and begins wildly thrusting as I rotate my hips in his lap. His hands are most likely leaving bruises on my hips but I don’t even care.

“I want you to come inside of me, baby. I need to feel you fill me up. I’m on the pill. Please?” I speak against his ear between his heavy thrusts into me and clench down on him at his responding moan. What has gotten into me? I’ve never let a man come inside of me. This isn’t just any man though, and I am absolutely feral for him.

“Only if you come with me.” He grunts.

“I can’t… it’s too much.” I tell him as my body shakes against him.

“Yes, you can, baby.” He reaches between us and presses his thumb on my clit. I cry out from overstimulation but realize I’m almost there.

“Kal, right there! I’m so close!”

“Come baby. Soak me.” He says as he continues to pleasure me and a moment later I have the most blinding orgasm of my life. I swear that I feel like I am floating as I hear Clark grunt and release a deep baritone moan as his warm come coats my inner walls. My body is shaking with tingles to all of my extremities as I am encased in pure bliss. When I finally somewhat come to, I realize I wasn’t just floating from my orgasm, Clark and I were actually floating above my bed. Clark’s head is resting on the junction of my neck and shoulder when I quickly press closer to him and wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling.

Clark chuckles as he gently sets us down on the bed. “I guess you would’ve found out my secret eventually. I just came so hard that I literally levitated.” 

I giggle and press my lips to his. “I didn’t freak you out, did I?”

“Not at all. I think it’s really cool that you are Superman, Kal;” I say as I stroke a curl that has fallen onto his forehead. “but the man that I have been falling in love with is Clark. He is all I need. The rest is just a bonus. If you’ll have me of course.”

Clark rests his forehead against my own as he gives me the most panty dropping smile. “You don’t know how much that means to me, sweetheart. Will you be my girl?”

“I would love nothing more.” I respond with a sweet kiss. The rest of the weekend is spent wrapped in each other.

[lawtiee]

Chapter One - One That Got Away

Dont buy TLOU | Daily Click | Series Masterlist

Kinks/Warnings: Canon-typical violence, death, light gore, mild language, canon-typical setting

🎙️ Xan Says: Woo woo I really like this chapter actually! 😆 I did edit this late last night but for the most part there shouldn’t be many typos? But if there are, just ignore them. :p So anyways I hope you guys enjoy this! Also also, if you didn’t notice I added dialogue in from the game! I’m really proud of that but I think its a wee choppy but look past it for the love of god.

W/C: 1.1K

A loud bang wakes you from your sleep. You jolt awake, your dreams of a peaceful life fading away fast. You were familiar with the person standing before you — a new addition to the WLF that was learning quickly.

“Did you forget? We’re doing that raid on the village today. Issac told me to come find you. We have to go, now.” She said, obviously being in a rush. “Cmon, we have to go,” She’s trying to pull you up but you don’t move. “Seriously!” She stresses.

You were reluctant to leave for two reasons. One, the raid was poorly planned. It seemed like another one of Issacs plans for more bases all over Seattle. It was so fucking stupid. You had no other information other than you’d go in, wipe them out, and take over their village — horrible in the eyes of others but a-okay in the eyes of these soldiers. Second, because you were exhausted.

The large black clock on the wall of the dingy med-bay reads 09:45:06. Why was literally anyone willing to leave right now? You could barely see anything from how dark it had been, not to mention that it’d been raining out.

You weren’t really in the mood to hear anything from Issac or anyone else, so you drag your feet towards your worn backpack, retrieving your guns and snagging a med kit before following the girl. 

Rain water sloshes underneath your feet as you step out. You pull your hood over your head before you listen for instructions.

“Listen up!” Issac barks from the front of the group. “We’re raiding that island of Scars. Don’t hesitate, take anyone and everyone out immediately. Do we understand?” His voice was full of disdain when speaking about the Scars. A resounding “yes sir!” waves over the crowd. A few people break off into groups but of course, you were stuck with Issac and his posse.

You hated every second of this. You were shivering as it became slightly windy out, the trees swaying in the direction of the wind. Leaves are spread across the ground of all different shades.

Had you have been inside right now, the rain would’ve been peaceful. But now you hate every second of the rain. 

The trip to the village was long and hard. Seraphites were in your every corner. You heard the screams from your people and theirs. It was gruesome to say the least. This overall seemed like a death mission. It was too risky — it seemed like they had more people than you and god were they armed to the nines.

You can hear bullets in the distance mixed with your own. You’d never gotten used to the kickback on this new gun you’d stolen once on lookout, but you were trying it again.

You ignored the shoulder pain and you continued forward. Whistles vary from long to short, which you’d assumed was their way of communicating. These people might’ve been trained but you knew you were better.

In terms of skill, you and Abby were on the same level; albeit not like, exactly level. But you two had skills that could get you a spot as the “best Scar killers” compared to the other soldiers. 

You’re currently ducking behind a large truck as you reload your guns and wrap bandages around any scars that were visible to you at the moment.

“How did we let this happen?” A male Seraphite questioned. “I don’t know, but we’re ready.” Another male responds. But how ready were they? This was like a two-fer. They let their guards down just enough so that they hadn’t been paying much attention to their surroundings.

You aim your gun. Inhale. You line up your shot on the first guy, resting your finger on the trigger of your gun. Exhale. You pull the trigger and the bullet flies, landing in his forehead. The other guy looks around frantically, yelling and pointing his gun in any direction.

You sneak up behind him, putting him in a chokehold. “Not a word.” You grumble angrily, grunting with effort. When life slips away from his body, you toss him to the floor. Obviously you pick up their guns, inspecting them and taking the ammo out. Slim chance any of this could be useful anyway. 

You make your way back to your group, moving through the mainly cleared parts of the village. Boots sloshed in the mud and people screamed as your guns blazed. You switch to a pistol with a makeshift silencer. The gun, in your opinion, had been a bit faster than the one you were currently using.

“Maggie, is this area secure?” A man yells over gunfire. “It better be! We just mowed down these fucks. What’s the plan?” She responded while also firing her gun. “We’re heading to the capital. Take your team and clean the villages by the farmlands.” 

You listened to the conversation, and it intrigued you. You almost followed the woman but any ideas of that are gone as more Scars appear. “How many of these motherfuckers are on this island?” You grumbled. The bloodshed continued, more bodies dropped and weapons flew.

To the unarmed, scared people, this would’ve been a great area to snag a couple guns and whatnot from. You continue following behind Issac. For what it seems now, it was clear. Walking the streets was.. hard. Bodies of Seraphites and Wolves line the streets with gruesome injuries, blood gushing from their wounds. The sight of death always almost nearly made you gag, but you chose to ignore it.

Chatter passes through Issacs group. He was taking the group towards an old radio tower. You looked up into the distance and it didn’t seem to be very far away — maybe a few minutes give or take. You were glad that by now the rain wasn’t as hard as it was. It was quiet for a while, then gunshots rang out.

“More Scars ahead. Keep your head on a swivel.” Issac instructed. The groups ahead of you were fighting back, but it’s hard to tell if it’s a winning or a losing battle— but why would you care about that right now? You wanted to survive. Every man for himself. Horrible mentality to have obviously. But that’s just the way this crazy, fucked up world works. 

You join your team in the onslaught of killings, snapping necks and killing Scars that lunged at you. Some part of you wishes that this wasn’t so gruesome.

A gun fired. “Got one!” A guy from your team yells. Your head shoots up, looking towards him. “No! Yara!” A voice yells. You know this voice, it’s all too familiar to you. You couldn’t believe it. “Holy fuck, is that Abby?” 

[salty-croissants]

hi yes have you considered the reader finding a very wet, tired Ramon during a rainstorm on the streets and taking them to their place as our lord and saviour yet?

Thank you for the request ! 

Honestly this is such a good prompt , I can’t tell you how much I loved writing it ! 

Ramon has suffered so much , this man really does deserve to be taken care of :,I ❤️

Hope this turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

strangers to lovers ; 

presence of mild swearing

< Man … today of all days I had to leave my umbrella home … > 

You sighed , looking up at the raindrops falling from the sky while huddling in your jacket’s hoodie to find some warmth in the cold .

It had been a fairly average day , and you were ready to finally return home without anything unusual happening …

… until your eyes wandered off in a nearby alleyway .

< What the … ? > 

Maybe it was just the fact that you were a bit tired after work , or maybe it was just your imagination … but you were pretty sure that you spotted the silhouette of someone laying down on the ground , hidden in the darkness .

You looked around , unsure of what to do … 

The people passing by didn’t seem to be caring much about it , clearly all too involved in their own business , so eventually your curiosity got the best of you and you ended up walking in the alleyway , knowing full well that it wasn’t the most safe thing to do … 

But then again , you had a history of wanting to be there for someone when they where in trouble , no matter who they were .

It only took a few steps in to realize that there was indeed someone there …

And your expression immediately turned into worry when you realized in what poor conditions he was : 

he was shaking , his coat unable to give him enough shelter from the rain , and by the looks of it he was at least trying to get some sleep despite the less than welcoming surroundings . 

… wait , on second thought didn’t that face seem familiar ? 

Yeah , that was Rayman , the guy who hosted the majority of Eden’s shows !

He surely looked a lot … different than usual … and why would he be in such a place right now ? 

You kneeled before him , wondering if anyone would’ve come looking for him … he was well known by the whole city after all , it would’ve made sense . 

But at the same time you couldn’t leave him there like that …

< *sigh* … okay , carefully now … > 

After wrapping him with your jacket , you slowly picked him up from the ground , hearing him groan slightly as you walked away , following a not very crowded road to your house . 

It was definitely not quite an average day anymore at least . 

*some time later* 

< Hnn … wh … what … where … ? > 

As Ramon opened his eyes , he noticed that he was in some unknown apartment … with two or three warm blankets covering him up . 

Who would be so kind to him now that he was a criminal … ? This had to be some sort of trick … what if one of Eden’s buddies had caught him ? 

Paranoia started to overwhelm him , but before he could do anything a door to his left opened , and he wearily watched you walk in the room with two cups of tea in your hand .

Your expression became relieved when you noticed that your guest was up .

< Ah , you’re awake - that’s great ! 

Sorry , I don’t really have much tea left , I only had the lemon flavored one , I hope that’s okay … > 

Ramon looked at the warm cup you had placed in front of him , then back at you , completely baffled by your hospitality … 

It was definitely not what he was expecting , and you really didn’t seem like the type of person that would turn around and try to kill him out of the blue … but still , he remained suspicious . 

< Now … may I ask what you were doing out here , Mister Rayman ? > 

He growled at the mention of his old name , giving you an irritated glare …

< … that’s not my name . Not anymore . 

I’m Ramon now . > 

, he simply replied , one of his floating hands carefully grabbing the cup of tea , almost like he was afraid of it . 

< And what I was doing isn’t really your problem now , is it ? > 

You tilted your head , not understanding what he was talking about or the reason behind his hostility … 

A long silence followed his words , before Ramon eventually let out a sigh , the feeling of your eyes staring at him in confusion starting to make him feel … pretty bad for lashing out like that . 

< … I just … why would you even bother to bring me here ?

I don’t know who you are or what your deal is … for all I know , you could be working with Eden’s assholes to capture me or something … > 

His gaze met yours , but he couldn’t find a single trace of malice in it … 

< Well … you can trust me when I say that I’m probably the least dangerous person you could run into , so if you’re afraid that I might hurt you I can assure you that’s not gonna happen . > 

, you quietly replied , pausing to drink some tea before continuing the conversation . 

< I just couldn’t bare the thought to leave you there alone in the rain , so I thought I’d at least bring you to a place that could give you some shelter . 

That’s … heh , all there is to it , really . 

I understand why you’d be weary of me , like you said , you don’t really know me … but it just felt right , y’know ? 

I’m sorry if this is a bit too uncomfortable though … I didn’t mean to make it that way , Ray - sorry … Ramon . > 

Maybe it was just because he had gone through so much lately , but the relaxing atmosphere of your home mixed with your soothing voice managed to ease some of Ramon’s tension , and after a moment of hesitation he took a deep breath and took a sip out of the cup of tea he had been holding that whole time .

< You’re good … 

To answer what you asked me before , about why I was around here , let’s just say that I’m … currently not on good terms with Eden . > 

Anger flashed in his black eyes , as his mind traveled back to the past few hours …

< Turns out those bastards have been using me my whole goddamn life , and I was having none of that shit , so … >

You could see his hands visibly shaking while trying to regain composure .

< … I … the Board of Directors … they’re dead . All of ‘em . They won’t ever put any other innocent Hybrid’s life at stake . >

Your eyes widened , slowly processing that big load of information that he had given you .

 < You … killed them ? >

Ramon nodded , without a single word .

< Huh … well , that explains why Eden is looking for you . 

Are … you okay ? > 

He couldn’t help but look up at you , shocked by how concerned you were about him despite him being a total stranger …

< Wh … I just … > 

He chuckled , one of his floating hands covering his eyes as his chuckle turned into laughter .

Ramon had almost forgotten what that felt like … to be cared about .

 < Haha … I can’t believe this … how the hell can you just be so - so nice to me , even after I told you I murdered someone ??

God , I don’t get it … I don’t get it … > 

Seeing him somewhat happy for the first time since you begun talking brought a strange , warm feeling to your heart that you couldn’t quite explain …

It was … nice .

< Heh , that’s just how I am . > 

You slowly got up from your seat , walking towards Ramon to give him a little pat on his shoulder .

< Look , I understand that you’ve been through a lot … 

If by any chance you need a place to stay , I … well , I know my apartment is pretty small , but you can stay here for as long as you need . > 

Normally Ramon would’ve flinched in front of such a sudden move from anyone else , but with you it was different … he didn’t feel like he needed to fear you , he didn’t know why … 

He just stared back into your eyes , nodding in response with a little smile on his face …

< Hm … that sounds like a good plan . 

Thank you , uh … > 

< You’re welcome … 

And you can call me y/n . > 

[illuminatedferret]

One-Word Ficlet Prompt #1: Alcohol

Word count: 641

Starting off uploading my "I'm stuck in a room with testing students for four hours with nothing but a journal and pen" series with my favorite so far:

“San Lang, can you get drunk?” Xie Lian asked one day. They were seated at the table enjoying a suspiciously blue dinner when, apropos of nothing, the thought occurred to him.

Hua Cheng, whose mouth was full, let a raised eyebrow be his first response. Then, after he swallowed, he asked, “what brought this on?”

“Nothing in particular,” Xie Lian replied. “It just occurred to me. I know weaker ghosts can get drunk- or something like it- but you...?”

Hua Cheng considered the question, taking a sip of water.

“I could,” he eventually said. “But, unless it was spiritually powerful alcohol, it would only affect me if I let it.”

“So you’ve never been drunk before?”

“Why would I want to be?”

Well, Xie Lian couldn’t argue with that. The one time he’d been drunk had been a disaster, after all.

“And gege?” Hua Cheng, whose thoughts were surely walking a similar path, prompted.

“Ah, you’ve seen what I’m like,” Xie Lian laughed, light and sheepish, more from habit than humor. “I never wanted to repeat that experience. Besides, my cultivation banned alcohol.”

Hua Cheng nodded thoughtfully, and Xie Lian took that as a sign this thread of conversation was over, taking a few more bites of his food. And yet, after a short while, Hua Cheng suddenly said:

“But you don’t follow that path anymore.”

His tone was mild, but Xie Lian knew his husband well. If he brought it up now, there was more to it than that.

“Yes,” he agreed, watching Hua Cheng closely. “But alcohol has never tempted me much, anyway. Not like-” he coughed, cutting himself off, but the damage was done- Hua Cheng was smirking at him, a dog on a scent.

“Like what, gege?”

Don’t speak so innocently when you know what I mean! Xie Lian cried internally. Out loud, he hurriedly said, “nevermind, nevermind that. Why were you asking, San Lang?”

“I didn’t ask anything,” Hua Cheng pointed out, which was true. But he didn’t try to hide that there had been a question unspoken, for then he said, “I was just wondering if gege would ever want to change that.”

“Change... If I wanted to get drunk?” Xie Lian echoed, surprised.

“Mn.”

“Why... why would I?” 

“It could be nice,” Hua Cheng offered.

“But I... I mean, San Lang, you saw what I was like last time... I don’t even remember most of it, but Feng Xin told me I caused a lot of trouble...”

“I would take care of you,” Hua Cheng promised simply, and like the lock of a door, everything clicked into place.

Ah.

So that’s it.

“Gege?” Hua Cheng asked, and Xie Lian realized some of his thoughts must have shown on his face.

“...” San Lang wants to take care of me? Xie Lian wasn’t shameless enough to say it. He knew he was right, though- oh yes, by now it was quite clear to anyone who paid attention (and many who didn’t) just how much the ghost king Crimson Rain Sought Flower got out of taking care of his husband.

Which apparently also extended to getting his husband intentionally drunk as some sort of do-over for the last time.

...Is this a sex thing? He wondered. But, in the end it didn’t matter. Nothing would happen unless he wanted it.

Which meant...

Xie Lian glanced away, trying to affect disinterest even though Hua Cheng could surely read the embarrassment right off of his face. “I’ll think about it,” he said quietly.

Hua Cheng smiled innocently, having heard all he truly wanted to hear. Xie Lian took another bite of food, resisting the urge to rub his forehead.

I really do spoil you... he thought. Yet, he couldn’t say he regretted it. There were much worse things he would do for Hua Cheng than getting drunk on purpose.

[ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes]

The Phoenix and the Crow

part thirty-nine

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: it's pretty angsty, this one...

el's thoughts: i hope yall love this as much as i dooo

masterlist

They’d been blessed with a strong wind. Y/N felt it ripple through her hair that Inej took out of its matted braid. The strength of the breeze was a telltale sign of a storm coming.

As soon as they were on deck, Inej turned to Kuwei.

“How long does she have?”

Kuwei had some Kerch, but Y/N had to translate in places. She did it distractedly, her glittering eyes roving over everyone and everything. Nina stepped in to help translate when the Inferni mentally zoned out every few words.

“The high will last one hour, maybe two. It depends how long it takes her body to process a dose of that size.”

“Why can’t she purge it from her body? Couldn’t Nina help her?” Wylan asked, turning to the Heartrender almost desperately.

“It doesn’t work,” said Kuwei. “Even if she could overcome the craving for long enough to start purging it from her body, she’ll lose the ability to push the parem from her system before it’s all gone. You’d need another Corporalnik using parem to accomplish it.”

“What will it do to her?” asked Jesper.

“You’ve seen for yourself,” Nina said bitterly. “We know what’s going to happen.”

Kaz crossed his arms and finally spoke from where he stood beside Y/N. “How will it start?”

“Body aches, chills, no worse than a mild illness,” Kuwei explained.

“Then a kind of hypersensitivity, followed by tremors, and the craving.”

“Do you have more parem?” Matthias asked.

“Yes.”

“Enough to get her back to Ketterdam?” Kaz followed up.

“I won’t take more,” Y/N protested, hooded eyes flickering up to look at Kaz in refusal.

“I have enough to keep you comfortable,” Kuwei said. “But if you take a second dose, there is no hope at all.” He looked to Kaz. “This is her one chance. It’s possible her body will purge enough of it naturally that the addiction won’t set in.”

“And if it does?”

Kuwei held out his hands, part shrug, part apology. “Without a ready supply of the drug, she’ll go mad. With it, her body will simply wear itself out. Do you know the word parem? It’s the name my father gave to the drug. It means ‘without pity’.”

When Nina finished translating, there was a long pause.

“I don’t want to hear any more please,” Y/N said breathlessly. “None of it will change what’s coming.”

She drifted away toward the prow. Kaz watched her go with an aching heart.

Inej sought out Rotty and got him to dig up the wool coats they left behind in favor of their cold weather gear when they’d landed on the northern shore. She found Y/N near the prow, gazing out at the sea.

“One hour, maybe two,” Y/N said without turning.

Inej halted in shock. “You heard me approach?”

“Don’t worry. It wasn’t those silent feet that gave you away. I can feel your body heat and the warmth from your breath.”

“And you knew it was me?”

“Everyone feels so different. I never realized that before… I was barely able to focus on one person’s heat directly.”

Inej joined her at the rail and handed over Y/N’s coat. The Grisha put it on, though the cold didn’t seem to be bothering her. Above them, the stars shone brightly between silver-seeded drifts of cloud.

Y/N was ready for dawn, ready for this long night to be over, and the journey, too. She was surprised to find she was eager to see Ketterdam again. She wanted a mug of too-sweet coffee while she sat in Kaz’s window seat as he worked at his desk. She wanted to hear the rain on the rooftops while she lay in her warm bed at the Slat. There were adventures to come, but they would have to wait until she’d had a hot bath and a clear mind once again.

Y/N buried her face in her coat’s woolen collar and said, “I wish you could feel what I feel. The warmth from everybody on the ship… was overwhelming at first but now it’s comforting. I can pinpoint where everyone is and just knowing that they’re all safe…”

“I can only imagine,” Inej hummed. “I only hope it brings you a sense of peace.”

“I don’t really deserve peace, don’t you think?” Y/N chuckled coarsely. “I nearly burned down a city, and killed more people, and all I did was complete my assignment as a Ravkan soldier. The Phoenix.”

“That’s a horrendous way to look at this. Don’t do that to yourself.” She scolded the Inferni softly. “You’re so much more than a soldier anyway. You’re a friend to all of us here. You’re a Crow from the Barrel. And I think Kaz sees you as more than another soldier or a friend.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm and desperately avoided eye contact with the girl beside her. She knew the Crows weren’t blind to what was going on between herself and Kaz, but no one has had time to address the growing bond. She hasn’t even had the time to mentally process what she was feeling. For the first time in her life, she just let her feelings bloom, but now she had to face the facts and think through it all. It was fun to live in a bubble where it was just the two of them in all these life threatening, world changing events where there feelings had no real effect on their lives.

‘What if their feelings were solely caused by the trauma they were forced to face together?’

“I feel the need to tell you that…” Inej let out a breath. “Kaz isn’t one to deal with feelings and things of the like. But with you- You changed him so much. For the better. I’ve seen it already. You communicate with each other between glances and he’s opened up to you in a way I’ve never seen from him. I would even go as far as to say he loves you.”

Y/N’s wide eyes snapped up to look at Inej.

“I wouldn’t lie to you. I’ve never seen him like this in all the years I’ve known him. Y/N you mean so much to him, more than you think you do. Nina even mentioned how his heart beats faster when you’re around but it’s also more sure of itself. You can’t fake that.”

“I…”

“Just think through it. If you need anything, come find us.” Inej gave her the sweetest smile before she turned on her heel and walked back to the others. But as she walked away, Y/N saw she had another reason to depart. Kaz was standing in the shadows near the mast. He had a heavy coat on and was leaning on his crow’s head cane—he looked almost like himself again.

Kaz murmured a few words to Inej causing her to lean back in surprise. Y/N couldn’t make out the rest of what they said, but she could tell the exchange was slightly tense before the Suli girl let her shoulder slouch for a split second as she made her descent below deck.

“What did you say to Inej?” Y/N asked when he joined her at the rail. She tried to ignore the beginnings of a pounding headache.

“I have a job I need Nina to preform.”

Y/N hummed tiredly as they stood together, gazing out at the waved, silence stretching between them.

“We’re alive,” he said at last.

“Some of us more than others but it seems you prayed to the right god.”

“Or traveled with the right people.”

Y/N shrugged. “Kaz Brekker, are you going soft?” He said nothing and she had to smile. “No sharp retort?”

He ran his gloved thumb over the rail. “No.”

“What’s your plan when we get back?”

“When we’re a few miles out, Rotty and I will row to the harbor in the longboat. We’ll find a runner to get word to Van Eck and make the exchange on Vellgeluk.”

Y/N scrunched her nose as she leaned forward to rest her chin in her palm. The island was popular with slavers and smugglers. “The Council’s choice of yours?”

“Van Eck suggested it.”

Y/N frowned, her eyebrows furrowed in thought as she tried to keep her mind active and awear as she spoke with him. She was proud that she remembered the right island when writing her letter to Nikolai before they made it to the Ice Court. ‘Why would the mercher make a call like this?’ “Why does a mercher know about Vellgeluk?”

“Trade is trade. Maybe Van Eck isn’t quite the upstanding merch he seems.”

They were silent for a while. Finally, she said, “I want to own horses again.”

Kaz’s brows furrowed, and he cast her a surprised glance. “Really? Why?”

“I used to ride with my father when I was young. And during my time at the Little Palace, there was always a horse for me to take out. It was my only way of feeling free, and I’ve grown to miss it. Ravkans breed the best riding horses.”

Kaz hummed and looked back out to the stars. Y/N smiled softly at the side of his face and leaned slightly closer to him, her limbs growing heavy. “But we’ll go home first.”

“We will go to Ravka?” He smiled down at her. A smile that she’s noticed was reserved for her and her alone.

A please flush warmed her cheeks. “No,” she chuckled, her speech slightly slurred now. “We will go to Ketterdam. Home first.”

“You should go rest. The drug will begin taking it’s toll on you.”

Y/N shook her head. “I would really rather not be alone right now.” She watched the gears in his head turn as he thought for a moment.

He held his hand out to her, “I’ll wait with you.”

“Don’t you have plans to prepare for and see through?”

“I can spare a few moments.”

She smiled and took his hand slowly, giving him the chance to pull away if he wanted to but he didn’t move. Together, they walked below deck to the large room Kaz had taken ownership of. He brought her to the bed and let her lay down as he pulled the desk chair to the bedside.

Y/N let out a quiet moan as her muscles ached and her bones creaked as she tried to get comfortable under the rough sheets. Her body felt a sudden chill but she could still feel the different body heats through out the ship. Her nose scrunched in discomfort for a short moment before she looked up at Kaz who remained by her side.

No words were exchanged as they stayed in each other’s presence. Y/N silently stared up at Kaz with glossy eyes, admiring the way the light from the oil lamp flickered across his face. Her eyes began to burn and her chest grew heavy.

Kaz turned to her as the sound of her breathing grew labored. An unsettling pit formed in the depths of his stomach, bracing himself for the after-effects of the drug to kick in. “Should I go get Nina or Kuwei?”

He got no response only quiet groans so he decided to just stay at her side.

When the tremors began, she begged him to leave.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” she said, trying to roll on her side.

He brushed the damp hair from her brow with his gloved hand. He hissed quietly as her skin burned him through the leather fabric. “How bad is it.”

“Bad.” But she knew it would only get worse.

“Do you want to try the jurda?” Kuwei had suggested that small doses of regular jurda might help Y/N get through the day.

She shook her head. “I want… I want— Saints, why is it so hot in here?” Then, despite the pain, she tried to sit up as Kaz walked to push open the small circular window. “Don’t give me another dose. Whatever I say, Kaz, no matter how much I beg. I don’t want to be like them, like those Grisha back there.”

Kaz stayed silent for a long minute. “Y/N… Kuwei said the withdrawl could kill you. I won’t let you die.”

She flopped back down, and her whole body rebelled. Her clothes felt like crushed glass against her burning skin. “I would have killed every one of the druskelle.”

“We all carry our sins, Y/N. I need you to live so I can atone for mine.”

“You can do that without me, you know.”

He reached to her open palm and placed his atop of her’s. “I don’t want to.”

“Kaz,” she said, turning their hands over so she can trace the creases of the black fabric. It hurt. Touching his gloved hand burned her fingertips, but she still did it. She might not ever get to again. “I am not sorry.”

He took her hand and laced their fingers gently. She winced, but when he tried to pull away, she clutched him tighter.

“Stay,” she panted. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Stay till the end.”

“And after,” he said.

“I just want to feel safe again. I want to go home.”

“Then I’ll take you there. We’ll set fire to hay bails in the country side just for fun.”

Y/N looked into his eyes with longing. Longing fora normal life, longing for her pain to go away and longing for him. “Kaz…” Her throat was so raw it hurt to speak anymore. “My Crow.” She smiled tiredly anyway.

Kaz didn’t let his eyes stray from her face as her eyes began to close out of pure exhaustion.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/N could barely make out Kaz’s facial features through her hooded eyes. She watched his eyes squeeze shut and noticed his breathing become shallow as he placed her hand down on the bed beside her.

“My Saint, don’t go.”

taglist: @katherinereid @littlecat21 @jahayla-parker @maliciousbrekker @brekkershadowsinger @brekkers-desigirl @clunaes @wonderland2425 @bookloverfilmoholic @karensirkobabes @bookworm-center @el-de-phi @so-get-this-sammy @skittleabyss @crispy-croke @cometsghost @auttumnsayshi

[xer-melody]

A Worshiper of Magic (For a Date) Part 2

Wednesday Addams x male!witch!reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Warning: Passing out, my god awful music taste at the beginning of every fic

Words: 1,338

Summary: Wednesday has a vision in your room, once she wakes up she realizes that she needs to have a little conversation with her roommate.

(A/n: This was originally longer but I split it in half so it didn’t seem too chaotic or feel like an information overload.)

This was all kinds of strange. You figured Wednesday was psychic, she lived in Ophelia hall after all, but you really didn't expect her to suddenly have a vision in your room (as though you hadn't passed out in hers). The moment you saw her knees buckle you leaped after her, catching her a moment before she hit the ground, a sharp pain shooting through your chest as you picked her up. Carrying and dropping her down on your bed, just as she’d done you.

She’ll wake up when the vision is over, or at least she should. You watched her for a second, then with a sigh, walked over to your desk again, pulling out a second teacup for her from one of the drawers. You set it down and filled it with the same tea you'd been drinking.

She woke up 6 minutes later, you wouldn't even have noticed with how quiet she was, if it weren't for you seeing her sit up stiffly out of the corner of your eye, she probably would have scared the shit out of you.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing the teacup from before and walking over to her, “You passed out a little bit.”

She looked up at you, completely unamused, then took the teacup from your hands, seemingly unaffected by the heat coming from the streaming cup.

“What's in it?”

“Ash-leaved willow and a bit of doremaze.”

She hummed before taking a sip.

“Shame, I would have enjoyed a bit of belladonna.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I’m not taking those murder charges..”

“Not necessarily, I've developed immunity to them, one or two wouldn't hurt me”

She finished her tea and stood, handing you the cup.

“I'll remember that next time..”

She didn't say a word as she walked past you, but you swear you could see her watching you from the corner of her eye as she passed.

She hesitated to touch the doorknob again, but she did, and nothing happened.

“Thank you, y/n, we should do this again..”

And then she was gone.

Wednesday walked into her dorm, a rain cloud practically visible above her head, more so than usual.

Enid, who was sitting on her bed with Thing, looked up with a smile, then noticed Wednesday’s decrepit demeanor and her face dropped to one of concern.

“Wednesday, what's wrong?”

Hopping up, Enid walked over to Wednesday and dragged her over to her bed, making her sit down on the flurry of brightly colored blankets and pillows.

“You are self-proclaimed my best friend, right?”

Enid had to stop herself from smiling.

“Yes,” she said, but it came out with the slightest of squeals.

“And that means if I confide in you, you aren't allowed to tell anyone?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.”

“Good, I need your advice on something.”

That's a first, but after Enid called her out a few weeks ago Wednesday has been acting more ‘friendly’ (in her own way).

“I was returning Y/n’s tie when I had a vision. It was… different from my other ones. So far they've all been about the murders, but this one wasn't.”

She stopped, an expression that Enid had learned to read as frustration on Wednesday's face.

“Oh..good different or bad different?”

Wednesday paused, thinking for a moment.

“I don't know.”

The vision was strikingly similar to real life. The same mild afternoon light shining through your window, the same overt silence that enveloped your room, the same two tea cups sitting on your desk. The only difference, which became so unmistakably clear to her, was you.

You weren't standing by the bed as you were when she attempted to leave, you weren't dressed in the school uniform, and you weren't holding onto a bloodied tie.

No, now you were standing barely a foot away from her, you wore a pair of black and white plaid pajama pants and a tired look on your face you arns wrapped loosely around her.

She turned away from you, taking a moment to think. You took that moment to lower yourself to lay your head on hers.

“No class today..” you mumbled in a slightly grumbly voice, your tiredness still evident in it, “..stay with me.”

Wednesday doesn't get flustered, it doesn't happen, but your words and proximity made her feel something akin to it. She pushed down this new feeling, instead she tried to focus on what this meant, she wouldn't be being shown this if it wasn't important in some way.

You pull her back, closer to you, and her hand slips from the doorknob.

She didn't move when you pressed a kiss on the top of her head, then onto her cheek. Her little, black heart almost skipped a beat at the display. Almost instinctively, her hands found yours and you intertwined them.

After being silent for an inappropriate amount of time, she answered you.

“Fine..”

She could practically feel you beaming. Unexpectedly, your arms tightened around her waist and her feet were off the ground a second later.

Wednesday didn't like being carried, but this felt…fine.

A minute later you were both sitting on your bed together, you’d become occupied with a spell book, and the book she held, the book you'd handed her, was a murder mystery novel from the 1800s. She'd heard of it before, but it was a rare book, having been burned for its crudeness and blatant anti-authoritarian themes, and she had never been able to get her hands on it.

Now, well, in the future, she had it, and based on the distinctive black book mark sticking out of the top, she’s already read most of it.

She opens the first page, and there's a little white card inside with dark writing on it.

‘Te Amo - Y/n’

She glanced up at you, still reading your own book, and something that should have been obvious from the start finally sunk in. You were… dating, you and her, for how long she doesn’t know but if you're finding rare books and telling her that you love her, it must have been for a while.

She couldn’t help but admit to herself how nice this would be. A calm day in with the person who, apparently, loves her.

She didn’t consider herself a romantic person, she didn’t usually enjoy the concept of being in a relationship. But this felt comfortable in a way that made her want to recoil from this vision entirely. Glancing down at the book, then back at you, she opened her mouth to say something, anything-

And then she woke up.

Almost in the exact same place as where she just was. Forcing herself to sit up she look across the room and saw you, and you saw her two, bringing a steaming tea cup over with a small smile and a joke. A short conversation later she left. Even though, deep down, she wanted to stay just a bit longer.

And now Enid sat in front of her, mouth agape but the edges of her lips curled into a smile.

“Wednesday!” she squealed.

Her love-obsessed roommate hugged her, squeezing her in her excited embrace.

When Wednesday was able to pull back she said, “I feel like I'm going to throw up..”

“You're just nervous. I mean, most people don't get to see a future where they have a loving boyfriend.”

Wednesday scowled, “He's not my boyfriend, it was just a vision, doesn't mean it will come true.”

Enid gave her a look.

“Do you want it to come true? I mean he's cute, and he's a witch and that seems right up your alley.” she said with a smile, “Aww, you two can have little seance dates and summon the dead together, how cute!”

Despite how nice a seance sounded, Wednesday shrugged her off.

“I have work to do,” she stood from Enid’s bed, but turned to face her for a second, “you tell anyone about this, and I'll sew your mouth shut.”

Enid just grinned at her.

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[hirayaea]

love and deepspace drabble — “partner”

—“don’t you trust me to wait for you?”

—or, alternatively: the first time they become partners

—xavier/mc

—notes: I thought this would be part of a longer fic. maybe it will be. I have a 5 page WIP with a dozen different scenarios and I don’t know where it’s going. I haven’t written in a long time, and this feels like an ‘in between the moments’ piece more than anything. I’m still in the process of moving so I thought I’d post something I already made a while back while I’m on break! it’s simple and short but enjoy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

—warning: maybe mild “shooting star” anecdote / myth spoilers

。

。

。

You remember sitting next to him, pencil in hand, doodling a flower in your notebook during art class.

“Do you like flowers?” you write at the top corner of the paper, tapping over it twice so he would notice. He is torn between paying attention to you or listening to the teacher, but you both have gotten into enough trouble to know what he will choose.

He glances at you, a small smile on his face, and shrugs. Then he begins writing, “It depends. Do you like flowers?”

His smile is so boyish and cute; it makes your entire face red enough that you have to turn away. Joy blooms in your chest and you have to suppress the sudden urge to smile like an idiot.

When you face him again, he is looking at you, his eyes the reflection of a clear blue sky before rain. The intensity of his gaze causes the heat to spread to your ears and neck; you almost forget yourself, but he mimics you and taps over his note.

Oh, right!

“Yes,” you reply.

He looks pensive before he scribbles again. “What do you like more, stars or flowers?”

You pretend to be deep in thought and tap your pencil on your chin. Then, “I like both,” you write; you’re aware it’s cheeky, and your grin is as wide as it is mischievous. You draw a large star around the flower you first drew, and put a comet tail so it looked like it was shooting off to space.

Xavier shakes his head in amusement. “That’s greedy,” he writes.

You wanted to retort but the sound of loud chatter stops you. Your classmates had begun to move their chairs; your art exercise was starting, and the girls of your class are quick to ask Xavier to be their partner.

You pout and watch them from the corner of your eyes as you begin to pack up your notebook. You clearly weren’t listening to the teacher, so you had no right to complain that you didn’t ask Xavier first when you didn’t even know what was happening.

You’re about to stand when Xavier calls your name.

“Where are you going?”

You pretend to be anything but upset. “I’m off to look for a partner,” you say, brushing an invisible speck of dust from your skirt.

“You’re not choosing me?”

When you look up at him, he looks like a sad puppy, and you try and pretend it didn’t make your heart didn’t skip a beat.

“I thought someone else beat me to it,” you mumble.

The breath he releases is mixed with a laugh. He looks relieved, you think, and before you can try to understand why, he leans forward.

“Don’t you trust me to wait for you?”

You place a hand on his forehead to try and push him away. “You’re too close!” you say, and suddenly everything is warm; he chuckles at your reaction, a sound low and pleased, and the vibrations of his laugh resonate under your palm. The sensation travels through straight through your chest, and your heart is feels tight enough that your head is lightheaded; you’re not quite sure if you’re coherent enough to form a witty retort, so you settle with the truth.

“O-of course I trust you.”

Xavier seems content with that.

With a small smile, he takes your hand.

“Let’s go then,” he rasps, entwining your fingers, “—partner.”

。

。

。

—end? or the beginning?

[lycanlovebites]

little one-shot (1.6k words) of Emil and Wolf’s first real meeting and the ensuing conversation! I originally wrote this last February and I finally went back in today to edit it a bit and change some things. (When I wrote this it was before I realized I (and Wolf) was trans so I had to go in and change the pronouns. I uh really realized exactly how often I use them in this story.) anyways please enjoy this little vampire and werewolf tea party scene!

Below the cut since it’s a bit long!

Wolf thought back to the first time they met. He was caught in one of Emil’s traps to prevent trespassing one day while waiting out the rain in his forest, confusing it with his own. 

Emil set him free, and despite his dangerous fangs and claws, healed him. Wolf had ran away after that, but he couldn’t stop thinking back to the kind vampire who healed him (despite him also setting the trap). He returned several times over the next few weeks to watch him. Wolf learned that he enjoyed afternoon tea with friends on Sundays, and he meticulously cared for a delicate variety of plants that only bloomed at night. He learned that he liked garlic toast and sunlight on his face, but had to take safety measures first. 

He had learned a lot, but not enough. 

So one evening, when he sat outside to admire his garden, Wolf waited for him. He knew he would be there because he was a creature of habit. He always admired his garden at exactly 6:30 pm every Thursday.

Wolf was waiting for him, right behind his prized 

Night-Blooming Cereus. (He knew its name because Emil  sang it loudly as he watered it every Wednesday evening.) 

He walked out from his house, still freshly lathered in sunscreen, twirling an unopened frilly parasol over his left shoulder.

Wolf  watched from behind his Cereus. 

He hummed a melody to himself and sat down in an ornate lawn chair next to a table with a spread of evening tea. 

Such an odd creature, Wolf thought. Going through the work of preparing tiny foods and making tea and arranging everything so perfectly.. only to sit and sing at some flowers? Every evening?  Who did that? Emil, apparently. 

He watched him fold a satin napkin over his lap, stir a distressing amount of sugar into some tea, and use tiny golden tongs to place mini cucumber sandwiches on a floral china plate. It was utterly foreign to him. When Wolf was hungry, he dug up a cache and ate. Emil had so many rules that it was a wonder why he even bothered eating in the first place. 

When he raised his cup to take the first sip steam fogged his round glasses. Wolf moved forward, quietly, until he stood before him, six feet away. By the time the steam cleared he was just five feet away. 

He saw his eyes snap up to meet his own. 

He had expected to be met with shock or fear in his eyes, for him to drop his cup. But much to his shock all he saw was mild surprise. 

“I was wondering when you would stop by to pay me a visit,” Emil said calmly. “Although from the looks of it, you already have.” 

Wolf took a step back. How had he known? He thought he’d been careful not to reveal himself. He’d covered tracks and studied his routine. All this time he thought he was observing him, but had it been the other way around?

“I’ve noticed you a few times, but you always stayed within the edge of the forest until now. I saw you just the other morning, you know. You were admiring my garden.” He said gently. He had a kind voice. 

He lowered the teacup to the table. “I’m Emil, owner of the estate, as you must know. Who might you be?” He looked curious. 

Wolf paused, thinking. Werewolves didn’t have names in any human language. “Wolf.” 

“Well, Wolf, it is a pleasure to meet you properly. Sadly, our first encounter was not a very pleasant one. Thank you for the chance to make it up again.” He then pulled out a spare teacup from behind the teapot. “Would you like some tea? It’s rose, from my garden.” 

Tea? Wolf never had tea before. It seemed like a kind of simple potion, or maybe a soup. 

“Yes, thank you.” He nodded. 

“Sugar or cream?”

“No thanks.”

He took the cup from Emil’s outstretched arms, reaching to breach the gap between them. 

The beautiful, delicate cup felt so small, so fragile in his clumsy paws. He raised it to his snout to take a sip. It smelled deep and floral and the flavor bloomed and lingered on his tongue. 

“It is… nice,” he said simply.  There weren’t really other words to describe it to him. 

“I’m glad to hear it,” Emil said as he topped off his own cup with more tea. He went to take a sip when his eyes widened like he suddenly remembered something important. “Oh! Where are my manners? Please, have a seat.” Emil exclaimed, gesturing at another seat across the table with the spoon he was using to stir his tea. Wolf got up from the ground and settled into the dainty-framed seat. He felt a bit clumsy surrounded by delicate cups and tiny cutlery. 

“Pardon my forwardness, but I must ask; why have you been watching me all this time? Why visit me after what happened?” Emil asked. 

Wolf was silent for a moment. He thought carefully about his next words. 

“After being trapped, you set me free.” He took a sip of tea. “No Trapper would release a creature like me. Especially in their own forest.” 

Emil smiled. “I’m no trapper. I let you go because I never meant to catch you. It was to prevent trespassing vampires, not wandering creatures. Forgive me for injuring you.” 

“That’s the thing. After you set me free, you healed me. Why?”

“Why? I couldn’t leave you injured, not in good conscience.” Emil nibbled a sandwich. “It was the least I could do. After all, it was my fault you got hurt.” 

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“To answer your other question,” Wolf continued, “after what you did, I was intrigued. I wanted to learn more about you, this.. kind stranger all alone in the forest. I’ve never heard of anyone like you before. I mean, I knew there was someone living here in this forest; the birds talk about it all the time. But I had no idea it was.. you.” Wolf gestured at him. “Say, why do you live here? Not many vampires around the forest, from what I’ve seen.” 

Emil looked thoughtfully on how best to explain. 

“I came here after moving out of my parent’s home. I wanted a nice place of my own where I could live undisturbed. Well, relatively undisturbed, anyways. The deer that keep trying to eat my tomatoes keep me busy I suppose, but it’s nothing as bothersome as business meetings and marketing strategies.” he paused and Wolf looked at him curiously. 

“Business meetings?” He asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

Emil nodded. “My parents were business owners, selling cosmetics and jewelry and such, and they wanted me to inherit their business after they retired. We had always lived in the city, and we never got a chance to leave because of their job. When they retired, they left to travel the world, leaving me to run the place. I.. was never really a businessperson, not like my mothers. I hated the work. I wasn’t good with people, and it felt crushing to work on something I wasn’t good at or passionate about. So one day I sold the company. I took the profits from it and bought this place.” He paused to refill his teacup. “Now, I am ashamed to admit this, but I didn’t tell my parents about everything until months later, when I had settled into my home. I was afraid they’d cut their vacation short because of me. I didn’t want them to take the company back before I could sell it, which was irrational. The company was legally mine until I sold it, but I don’t know. 

“I left a quarter of the profit from selling the company to my mothers, took a quarter for myself, and the rest went to charities and all the workers who stayed with the company.”

“What did your parents think about it all?” Wolf asked. 

“Oh, they were furious of course.” He smiled. “I’ve only heard them that angry when I broke the family heirloom chandelier. I still don’t think Mamie ever forgave me for that one. Anyways, I told them that I had left the city, but I never said where. As far as I’m aware, they have no idea where I am. And if I’m being honest, I’d rather prefer to keep it that way.” He paused to take a sip of tea, blowing the steam off its surface. Wolf caught a flash of something dark in his expression. “As a child, all I wanted was my own life, made of my own choices. I wanted to be in a place that felt alive and free, away from my parents' influence. They had always chosen what school I went to, what hobbies I had, what I did and who I was friends with. They chose my future, and I never got a say. Inheriting the business was the last thing. It was my ticket out, and so I took it.” Emil stared deeply at his tea for a moment. “I live here because it’s my life now. I built my future, and my parents can keep theirs.” His voice was restrained. Wolf could hear how he held back heavier meanings behind those words. His peaceful features had a twinge of defiance. Wolf knew that look. It was the one he made when other wolves threatened to take his  prey. Emil was defensive.

Then he glanced up at him, seeing his understanding. 

[apologies for the open ending! I never really know how to end scenes like this so sorry for that]

[@justaderivative I don’t remember if I tagged u in this before or not but here’s my gay guys and their tea party! Wolf is a little bit of a freak and essentially lurked around this guys house for a few weeks except Emil has been watching this take place the whole time?? They match each others weird forest creature energy I guess. Also yes Emil has issues w his lesbian entrepreneur moms and basically tells the first person he really connects with about it on like their second ever meeting. He needs therapy I’m sure to work through it all but for now he’s busy fending off his garden from woodland animals and trying to cultivate a lovely friendship-to-queer-romance so that’s a problem for him to deal with later.)

[paymechildsupport]

Yuji Itadori // x Reader [Nights with You]

-!! Yuji is aged up a wee bit, this is domestic-ish fluff + hurt n' comfort

-!! CW: insinuations of mild depression and burnout + slight mental breakdown (Yuji helps you <3)

-!! Gender never specified.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

-

You sit up and look out the dark windows. Droplets of rain covered the entire surface making it impossible to see out of. The slow and steady beat of the drops hitting the glass soothed your body. It gave your heart a beat to match. Your lungs a pace to breathe at. 

Moments like these were the most peaceful. 

But it was getting late.

You feel the empty bed below you in the darkness. If you could feel sadness in this moment you’d imagine it to be heavy. 

If only nights like these could be shared. 

You lay back and pull the covers over your head. You stare straight up into ceiling and yawn. You can feel yourself slipping away. 

As you were about to close your eyes and let oblivion take you under, the door opened faintly. 

It closed with the same measure of low volume. 

Although it was pitch black inside the room, albeit from the faint glow of the window, you already knew exactly who it was. 

“Yuji”, the words softly leave your lips in a quiet whisper, barely a breath.

“Hi,”

You smile into the dark.

“Did I wake you?” He whispers, now at the side of the bed.

“No, I was just about to go to sleep”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you” He sounded so guilty it almost made you laugh. 

“Don’t be sorry, really. It’s been awhile since you’ve come to bed this early”

“Love, it’s three in the morning”, Yuji walks over so he is at your side of the bed, he crouches down to your eye level. His words are gentle but you can hear concern laced into them. 

He leans in. He’s so close now you can make out his soft facial features. His gentle eyes, his fluffy pink hair. You’re glad the darkness conceals your warm face. He is so, so beautiful. 

“Have you not been sleeping?” He asks softly, the question snapping you back to the present. 

“Hm-? Oh-, Yes… I’ve been sleeping.”

“…” You briefly make out his face crinkle into a frown.

“Maaaybe just a liiiittle bit later than usual though” 

“Love, is everything okay?”

“Yes” You stare back up at the ceiling. Both of you say nothing else, opting to lapse into silence. The rain seems to beat down even heavier- though not too heavy it’s loud. The light from the window flickers for a moment. The raindrops slip from the glass and tumble to the floor. So, so peaceful…

You sigh. 

“I don’t know”

Yuji says nothing.

“I- to be honest,- I do not know if everything is okay.” You confess, still not looking at him

“I do not even know if ‘stable’ is even a correct definition for what I feel right now. Everything is just going so fast and I can’t seem to-“ You pause, hearing Yuji quickly move from his spot. 

You track the movement in the darkness as you hear him hastily change clothing. 

He comes closer again, though this time on his own side of the bed, and lays down. 

He gently takes you up in his arms, pulling you close to himself. 

“Shhhh,” He softly urges, the words whispered into your ear. “It’s alright. It’ll all be alright. Just tell me what you need. Just tell me what to do. Please, just tell me what to do to make you feel okay” You’ve seldom seen Yuji desperate, so the raw emotion in his pleas startled you. He touched you as if you were made of glass, and would shatter at any moment. He was so, so gentle, so sweet. 

“Its- I- I just-“ You swallow, “I’m so tired, Yuji. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore” You’re shaking by now, caught off-guard by the sudden surge of emotion. You hate yourself for ever letting him see such a vulnerable state.

“It’s going to be okay. I promise I’ll make it okay.” He says softly, so, so softly. “Cry, if you need to. Or sleep, please sleep. You deserve it. You’ve done enough.” He pauses, taking a breath to calm his own nerves,  “More than enough. No one needs you to do anything more. No one, not me, not Nobara, not Megumi, not even Gojo-sensei  expects more from you.” 

You lay there for awhile, you and him. 

“You’re very strong, my love” Yuji whispered. One hand carefully strokes your back while the other runs through your hair. You feel yourself nearing the end. You’re going to collapse and you finally, finally, have somewhere you can do it. 

Yuji bends his head down and kisses you, once, on the forehead. Kisses butterfly down your forehead to your cheeks, where they eventually go down to your lips. Soft, as if he were kissing feathers instead of another human. Mere whispers of a kiss tease your neck. You quietly suck in a breath as Yuji kisses the bottom of your neck and collarbone, then your shoulders.

“Mmph-“

“Shh,” Yuji gently urges. He presses two fingers to your lips, smiling softly. You smile back. 

His face lights up adorably.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, snuggling his body up to yours. You almost laugh. You smile at your vulnerable position, his frame clinging to yours. You have no idea what kind of feelings you elicit out of the poor boy. 

You hold him close and lay your head on his chest. 

You’re so, so very tired. So, so very done. 

You silently take in the dark room, the soft light from the window, the pitter patter of the rain outside, and of Yuji, who has already fallen into a deep sleep. 

You slowly close your eyes and let yourself slip into oblivion. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

((An older piece I slightly reworked. Yuji my dear, I would die for you, ong, I will personally fistfight Gege for you 🥰😾))

[writtenonreceipts]

Ao3 Link // Part One

HA! I can’t do anything right.  Let’s pretend it was always spring/summer that the story was happening in, not winter.  Like why did I say winter in pt 1?  I feel like I knew that weddings in the regency/Victorian era were most always in spring/summer…Anyways here’s part 2.

And in true written fashion—we’re gonna need at least one other part to finish us off.  I’m sorry.  Really.  I’m posting this one before Rowaelin Month kicks off and then I’ll try and have it finished up in October.

Warnings: bits of abusive parents, mild violence, steam. ~7k words

.*.*.*.*.*.

When Our Fingers Touch, I Find My Way Back Home

She was seventeen and still subject to the whims of her mother.  Two weeks after the chilly dip in the stream and Elain was confined to the house.  Because, really Elain how could you be so foolish as to do a thing like that?  And in front of the duke’s son, no less.

It was just as well, she supposed.  She caught a bit of a fever by the following day and needed all the rest and tea possible to get her on the mend.

Nesta at least wasn’t quite so clipped in her admonishments.

“I thought you knew to be more careful than to get thrown in the river,” Nesta commented blandly as she arranged a new tea service on the small table in Elain’s bed chamber.  For once, the eldest Archeron daughter didn’t sneer away from mundane tasks.

“It was a stream and I am fine,” Elain replied.  She didn’t look up from her cross-stitching as Nesta settled into pouring tea and preparing their cups.

She really hadn’t meant to fall but no one seemed to care beyond the fact that she, delicate Elain, had gotten soaked to the bone and was now ill.  Oh, Mother wouldn’t let her hear the end of this. 

“Are you?” Nesta asked.  She arched one of her perfectly shaped brows, her hair swept into an elegant coronet of braids.  Her coming out had been a smash and she’d already had many a suitor.  Yet…Elain could tell there was something weighing on her sister’s mind.  Just eighteen and Nesta seemed to carry a far too heavy load then most and Elain had no idea what it was.

“Yes.” Elain punctuated the word by casting aside her stitching and taking a cup of tea. “It’s merely a chill.  I shall be fine by the morrow.”

“You sound like a toad and look like a drunkard rolling in from the bar.”

“Nesta!”  Elain tried, and mostly failed, in hiding a smile.

Nesta merely rolled her eyes and sipped her own tea.  “Well, so long as you say you’re fine and don’t lie to me, I’ll believe you.”  She paused before continuing then nodded to Elain’s bed. “Why do you have a man’s coat lying about, sister?”

“Oh!” Elain nearly scalded her tongue.  She hurriedly set her cup down, and tried not to spit up hot tea. “It’s nothing!  Lord Lucien was kind enough to offer his jacket after resc—helping me.  I’ve yet to return it.”

“I can have Clare clean it up and send it over with an errand boy,” Nesta said.  She was already rising to the servant’s bell as though to do just that.

“No, no.”  Elain reached out and tugged at her sister’s sleeve before she got very far. “Don’t worry yourself.  It’s just a coat.  I’m sure the lordling has plenty more to use.”

Nesta eyed her with mild confusion.  But then she shrugged and plopped back in her seat.  “Fine.  Save’s me from having to do anything.”

Elain sat back and let her sister talk about the -ton and all the scheming of the other mama’s and daughters and how one way or anything she would have no part in it.  As Nesta continued on, Elain found her mind beginning to wander back to the simple green coat the rested on her bed and the strange little flutter it caused deep within her chest.

.*.*.

Evidently, her wedding was to be a grand affair, the talk of the entire -ton.  Once, Elain would have been elated.  Once she would have reveled in her mother’s praise and the expenses being rained down upon her.  Once she would have taken it all in great pride.  She was the daughter to make her parents happy and allow their grand dreams to come true.

But as she waded through fittings and talks of florals and guests and food—Elain was focused on something else entirely.

Lucien’s mouth.

It was strange really, to think about a man’s mouth such as she was.  There’d only been one other man she’d been interested in kissing and that had not ended well at all.  Since, she’d never been interested in kissing another. 

Lucien Vanserra threatened her resolve with only the briefest of interactions.  Him and his stupid smirk, his full lips, and that insufferable way he said her name.  Elain.  As though it were his duty to pronounce each individual syllable with the utmost care and precision.

If it wasn’t his mouth, it was his hands.

This probably was not what one friend thought about the other regularly.

She was not a very friend.

“Elain, darling, you must pay attention!”

Drat.

Elain looked up from her tea to find her mother and Lady Vanserra herself eyeing her.  Mother of course was very close to loosing her control and saying something unbecoming.  Lady Vanserra however had a genuine smile of conciliation.  She always did seem like a wonderous woman.

“I beg your pardon,” Elain murmured.  She straightened her posture and recrossed her ankles.  “There is just so much to think about right now.”

“It’s your wedding,” Lady Vanserra said.  She reached over and patted Elain’s knee. “Of course you’ve got plenty on your mind.  There’s so much to think about and worry over.”

Mother looked as though she’d swallowed a lemon, but she was a lady so she held her tongue.  A true miracle if Elain had ever seen one.

“Thank-you,” Elain said with sincerity.  She offered her future mother-in-law a small smile, even as her cheeks flushed with the embarrassment of being caught lost in her own thoughts.

“Yes, well,” Mother said tightly, “we still need a decision on your bouquet.  Now we know there won’t be sunflowers, but I thought—”

“What?” Elain blurted. “There needs to be sunflowers.”

Mother’s nose crinkled. “Oh, there so strange, Elain.  Truly, the daisies and orange blossom will do nicely.  They’re far more elegant.  I know Lady Doyle keeps a remarkable garden of her own.  I’m sure she would be more than willing to—”

“I would prefer sunflowers, mother.”  It was the first time that Elain could remember ever being so firm in speaking to her mother.  Truly, she never raised her voice or spoke out of turn.  Not even when she wanted to most.  And now that she was, Elain could feel a new wave of horror wash over her at the reality of what it meant.

Her mother’s silver eyes flashed in warning.  Her mouth thinned impossibly and Elain wondered if her teacup would shatter from how tightly it was held.

“Sunflowers,” Lady Vanserra said, voice soft as the folds of her gown, “are lovely.  Margot, let me and my house prepare the bridal bouquet and other florals, please.  You’ve already offered up so much.”

Elain didn’t think she was breathing.  Not with the way her entire body seemed to contract and retract and her heart beat an entirely new tempo.  She kept her eyes trained on her mother, chin firm mouth set.  When finally her mother looked away Elain felt only a bit of relief.  But wondered if she’d truly won any sort of battle.

“That would be delightful, Dierdre,” Mother said.  Her ire, for the time being, had gone and Elain managed a deep, calming breath.

.*.*.

Dawn rose bright and warm on the day of the wedding.  It was a good sign.  A welcome sign.  Many ladies faced woeful downpours during these early months of spring, many forced to postpone parties and honeymoons because the roads grew too muddy in some stretches between cities.  Not today.

Pale blue sky stretched for miles without even a whisper of cloud to interrupt it.  That combined with the thriving green laughs, full trees, and vibrant flower bushes of the Archeron gardens—it truly was a beautiful day for a wedding.

And yet, Elain’s stomach churned with anxiety.

She rose far before her lady’s maid came to collect her and was found seated before the bay windows that opened over the back gardens.  It was usually her favorite place to sit and reflect.  She could spend hours there as the morning passed in lazy fervor.

Never again.

The door of her room burst open without warning, nearly sending Elain to floor in a panic.  She should have known her mother would come and make such an entrance.

“Are you not up?  Elain, we don’t have long to prepare you for the wedding.”  Mother swept through the room with various maids flowing after carrying fabrics, cosmetics, and other such items.

They in fact had hours yet to prepare meant nothing to a mama when her daughter was set to marry the son of a duke.

“It’s still early—” Elain wanted her mother to see reason and just give her a moment longer to herself.  It was in vain and soon enough, Elain was thrust into a heated tub and was scrubbed down with salts and oils and pumice stones.  She would be radiant if it was the last thing Mother did.

After bathing, her hair was taken over by brushes and pins.  The curls could get rather unruly, even when wet.  It didn’t help that mother hated Elain’s hair as it was.  Thankfully Nuala took over on styling her hair while her mother focused on the dress.

Elain hadn’t had time to appreciate the gown during all the visits with the seamstress.  She’d been too nervous over her upcoming nuptials that she hadn’t paid attention to any of the details.  Which, she supposed, she should be upset over.  She’d thought about her wedding often as a girl and young woman.  She’d planned every detail in her own might, straight to the point of what design her shoes would be.  This was supposed to be a remarkable day.

But as she had lotions applied to her skin and powders pressed to her nose, Elain felt like a stranger in her own body.  None of this was the way she pictured it.

“Where are Nesta and Feyre?” Elain finally asked her mother.  Maybe with her sisters present, some of her trepidation would ease.

Her mother waved a hand dismissively.  “They don’t need to be here.”

“They are to stand with me, are they not?” Elain asked.  Maybe if Nesta were here Elain could glean some of her sister’s iron will and feel even a modicum of strength.

“Your sisters are hardly worthy examples of virtue, Elain,” Mother said.  She pulled Elain from the vanity and into the center of the room, stripping the dressing gown Elain’s shoulders without any warning. “Now come along, step into the dress, we need to ensure there aren’t any last-minute adjustments.”

Elain bit down hard on her tongue.  Maybe once she was married, she needn’t be around her mother so much.  She could send for her sisters as often as she liked.  She could have a house to herself and a strange sort of friendship with her husband and child—no children.  That wouldn’t be an option, would it?  Lucien wouldn’t be under pressure to bare an heir.  Not when he still had four remaining brothers.  Besides, they were just friends.

“Arms, Elain!”

Elain lifted her arms for her gown’s sleeves. 

Well, she could still have a fulfilling life, couldn’t she?  She didn’t need children.  Nesta may have a child and Feyre was still unwed.  And she could always have her other hobbies, Lucien seemed amendable in that regard.  She could bake, she could garden, she could host scores of her own parties.

“Elain, could you at least try to appear amiable?”

Wrenched from her thoughts, Elain lifted her chin and plastered a comfortable smile on her face.  She was dressed in a pale gown of lilac and lace, the sleeves long as they flowed to her wrists.  The waist line cinched in a daring way against her ribs and the corset was tight enough to create the illusion of a full bust.  Elain turned to the mirrors that had been brought in for this exact moment.

She did her best to keep her smile in place, but she just couldn’t make it reach her eyes.  Her hair was twisted up and out of the way pinned with gold and orange blossoms.  And while a lovely style, Elain wished her hair could have at least hung a little bit so she could feel a touch more like herself.  The gown itself was beautiful and complimented her pale skin and slim figure.  At least her mother insisted on keeping with the fashions.

And yet…and yet…Elain felt nothing like herself.

“You really must smile better then that, Elain.”  Mother tutted and continued to move about as she straightened none existent lines and plucked invisible bits of lint from the dress.

“Yes, ma’am.”  And she did smile then, that practiced one that mama always said made her pretty.

She smiled as her lady’s maid applied a final round of blush to her cheeks.  She smiled as her mother pinned a necklace of sapphires to her neck (hardly Elain’s first choice).  She even smiled as rose water splashed against her wrists and she was ushed from her room for what would certainly be the last time.

No matter how badly she wished it—time would not slow down.  Not even as Mother ushered her through the house and to the waiting.  Not even as Mother barely explained what would happen during the wedding night consummation.  Not even as the chapel came closer and closer.

Time was a thief, Elain supposed.  Plucking memories straight from your mind and burying them deeper until they were barely whisps behind your eyes. It was thief and she a mere victim.

By the time the carriage rolled to a stop just outside the chapel, Elain was in a fit of worry.  She was certain the rose water had worn off thanks to an unholy amount of sweat shimmering against her skin.  That would be blamed on the unnatural heat of the day.

As a footman helped her mother down from the carriage, Elain nearly slammed the door shut again and yelled from the driver to hurry on and get as far away from here as he could manage.

It was to no avail because her father, having arrived earlier with the guests, was already reaching in for her.  As if someone else were taking over her body, Elain accepted the outstretched hand and stepped into full daylight.

She would have thrown up, right there on the church steps, if her eyes hadn’t caught on the flowers.  Vibrant and colorful, the steps of the church were lined with intricate displays of flowers.  Foxglove and marigolds.  Pansies and dahlias.  Lilac and sunflowers.  The sunflowers.  Elain had to stop and stare at the incredible sight of them all.  Their bright yellow petals wove in and out of the various floral arrangements.  It was beautiful.

Elain very nearly burst into tears as the sight.  She was so caught up in it that she almost missed Nesta who had been waiting along the steps of the church as well.  In her arms she held a simple bouquet of sunflowers and greenery.

“Lady Vanserra insisted this be for you,” Nesta said.  Her mouth barely upturned into a knowing smile.

Elain accepted the flowers, not trusting herself to speak.

Nesta wore a simple gown of pale yellow with her hair in its usual twisting braids.  As always, she looked lovely and elegant, perfectly poised for what was about to come.  Elain had a feeling she was supposed to be waiting inside, but was immensely grateful her sister had disobeyed their mother for this.

“Mother, shall we walk together?” Nesta asked, with all the innocence of a viper. “Feyre is already at the front and the groom seems very eager to see his bride.”

There was no other choice then to follow through on the suggestion (that really wasn’t a suggestion at all).  Mother and Nesta climbed the chapel steps and through the waiting doors.

That, at least, was a relief.  Elain didn’t think she’d be able to walk down the aisle if her mother were at her side yammering the entire way.  Her mother had all her expectations lined up in a perfect little row for Elain to follow through on.  Her father, however, did not.  Oh, he had his own expectations but he kept those quiet and to himself.  It was far easier to ignore his judgements that way.

Elain only had time for a single, steadying breath before her father reached out for her arm and tucked it against his.

“You’re doing the right thing,” he said. “For all of us.”

How was she to respond to that?  Was it right to foist her down the aisle to a man she barely knew?  Was it right to ignore her own wishes because he had made mistakes?  Was it right to place this duty upon her shoulders and expect her to make things right in a world that looked down upon her sex with suck ilk and ire?

Elain sucked in a breath, the sweet aroma of the flowers calming her unease.  Lady Vanserra had outdone herself.  With the beautiful arrangements, the sheer amount of flowers, and the simple sunflowers that sang their bright joy on an otherwise bothersome day.

Everything would be fine, wouldn’t it?  The flowers had to be a good omen.

Father prodded her along the steps, up and up and up.

And the sun was shining.  Elain loved the sun.

The doors of the chapel were thrown open wide. 

And Lucien wasn’t terrible, was he?

Cedar oil mixed with incense cloyed through the chapel and Elain had to stop to draw in a full breath.  Even when her father very nearly dragged her along to the start of the aisle.  Her heart was beat heavily in her chest that Elain could feel her blood actually moving through her veins.  She could feel each of her pulse points practically on fire.  It didn’t help that her head pounded just as hard. 

There was no escape, was there?  No where to run.  No where to hide.

And while Elain was quite skilled at fading away and letting other dote upon her, skilled at ignoring a problem that was annoying and otherwise uninteresting, skilled at being nothing more than Elain—she did not, could not, let that define her now.

The soft chatter of voices came to a pause as Elain and her father approached the top of the aisle.  She couldn’t make out anything other than the thin strip of blue carpet that led all the way to the front where the priest waited—rather impatiently.  But she glazed right over that because beside the old man with his stiff cravat was Lucien.

Lucien stood tall and proud, his dark suit fitting him well.  His red hair was swept out of his face, leaving his high cheekbones and sharp eyes on display.  The sight nearly drew Elain to a stop.  His eyes were only for her as she began to walk down the aisle. 

Father set a quick pace down the aisle; far quicker then what Elain wanted.  If she tried to slow down herself, she was sure he’d drag her to the alter, appearances be damned.

So Elain did the only thing she could—she kept her eyes trained on Lucien.  She didn’t know what drew her to him.  He represented nearly everything she dreaded.  She’d thought so many times about what her future would hold and the shape it would take.  She’d always known she would marry, always known her life would lead to this point.

But when it was by the forceful hand of her father, when she didn’t have a say in who her life would be entrusted—everything inside her wanted to rebel.  Even though it had only been a scant month between the marriage announcement and the actual wedding (Mother would only keep up appearances where it mattered), Elain found that every thought she’d had for her future dried up like an un-watered garden in the summer months.

Lucien remained steady before her.

It was strange because she still felt a simmering rage towards Lucien for this entire mess.  And his stupid mouth.  But she couldn’t help and also remember the kindness he’d shown by offering to be her friend.  A small offer that allowed her a modicum of peace for this betrothment.  The warring emotions didn’t help calm her raging heart nor her flipping stomach.  In fact, they made it impossible to even walk in a straight line.

If it weren’t for the hard certainty in Lucien’s gaze or the firm set of his jaw, Elain may have tested her father’s grip.  As it was, she remained focused on Lucien’s calm nature.  He was holding himself together remarkably well.  Elain wondered if he were dreading this as much as she was.  He’d flirted and teased her enough while stuffed in that closet that she didn’t think she knew what the real him was like.  Would she ever know him?

Before she had time to even digest that thought, she was standing right before him.  Numb, Elain let her father pass her hand off to Lucien whose fingers interlaced almost perfectly with hers.  It was such an intimate touch that Elain felt heat creep up her skin, replacing the cold dread of just a moment before.

She looked up into Lucien’s eyes as he studied her.  It was just a moment, a singular moment that was just theirs.  Her father had retreated and the priest yet to speak.  And in that moment, everything else faded to nothing.

“What would you ask of me, as your friend?”

“To trust me, to talk to me.” 

His words from that night weeks ago echoed in her head and Elain let herself imagine that everything would work out in the end.  She gave his hand a single squeeze and then turned to the priest who waited impassively.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest said, voice raised as if he could reach the heavens.

Elain didn’t listen.  At least…she tried.  But the longer he spoke, the faster the blood in her ears pounded and lighter her head felt.  Truly, all she could focus on was the steady feel of Lucien’s hand in hers.  So big and warm she almost couldn’t understand it.  And there was the scrape of calluses that she finally realized couldn’t have been there because a duke’s son did not work with his hands.  His skin should have been smooth, soft, unblemished.  Yet here he was with a rough patch on his thumb that moves in slow circles on the back of her hand.

It was so distracting that Elain almost missed the prompt from the priest to accept her marriage vows.

“I do.” She could only speak in a mere whisper.  And truth be told, she was surprised anything came out to begin with.

As the priest reiterated the marriage vows to Lucien, Elain finally managed to raise her gaze to him.  He was already watching her, his russet eyes bright in the pale light that filtered through the tall stained-glass windows of the chapel.  She’d never known a pair of eyes could hold such care or tenderness, never known it to be directed to her.

“I do.” Lucien replied to words Elain had long stopped trying to listen to.

“Then with a kiss shall this marriage be sealed and your lives entwined till death.” The priest retreated only a step, proffering a faux taste of modesty.

Elain wondered briefly if she should have let herself think about Lucien’s lips just a little bit.  Especially considering he was moving toward her now, one hand already reaching out to cup her chin while the other moved from her hand to her elbow.

As Lucien dipped closer, Elain took a sharp breath.  He smelled of cinnamon and sunshine, intoxicating to her as she found she couldn’t take a normal breath to save her life.

“Breathe, Elain,” Lucien whispered just for her. “it’ll be over before you know it.”

She opened her mouth to argue with him.  It wasn’t a silly little kiss she was worried about.  Everything that came after was a different story.

She never got the chance to say anything as Lucien took the opportunity to kiss her.

It was utterly chaste and hardly scandalous, but Elain could feel it pierce against her very soul.  It was in the warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the feel of his fingers brushing against her chin.  She’d never been kissed like that before.  All her dalliances with Graysen Nolan were wet and quick and more for his benefit than hers.  This was something else entirely and it set her heart fluttering with unmanageable energy.

Thankfully, Lucien was able to keep himself composed as he was able to pull himself away, all the while maintaining graceful composure.  He grinned down at her, as if knowing what all was going on through her head.

“See?  Not so bad.”

“You’re an ass,” she hissed, utterly forgetting they were in a chapel.

If possible, his stupid smile stretched even wider at her irreverence.  He tugged her hand to lead them down the aisle.  Elain had never been more grateful for the ridiculous superstition of the bride and groom not acknowledging their guests until outside of the church.  With any luck her mother would be so hard pressed to send them on their honeymoon (for the sole act of baby-making) that Elain wouldn’t have to see any of them again for at least a month.  Maybe two if she was lucky.

They passed through the tall oak doors and into the bright spring sunlight.  Elain had never felt happier to be outside and in the open air as she did in that moment.

“Never a good sign that your bride is desperate to get outside, eh?” a chipper, rather proud voice, spoke up from the behind them.  Elain nearly screamed, she hadn’t expected anyone to be so close behind them.  But she turned to find it only to be Jurian Renault, Lucien’s best man.  The man, one of the most decorated officers in England, grinned broadly as he dashed a hand through his thick brown hair.

“Jurian,” Lucien said, with a bit of resignation accompanied by an eye roll.  But Elain didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched in amusement. “And where is your better half?  I’d have liked her up there with me more than you.”

Hardly offended, Jurian merely sighed. “Alas, my darling counterpart is unwell this morning.  But she sends her congratulations and will be more than happy to offer the summer manor for your honeymoon, should you need the accommodations.”

If Lucien was as shocked as she was by the offer, he made no notice, only looked down at Elain with a raised brow.  He was deferring to her?

“It would be nice to get out of London,” she said slowly, hoping to sound more diplomatic that she was feeling.  She would run halfway across the world if it got her away from her mother for a time.

Lucien squeezed her hand in understanding.  He nodded once and looked back to his friend. “The quiet would do us both well.”

“You would find no better place,” Jurian assured her.  He glanced over his shoulder as the rest of the wedding party and guests finally emerged from the church. “I’ll send word to the house keeper to begin preparations for your arrival.”

It was all he had time to say before Elain was swept into a hug by Feyre (it was rather undignified a reaction and Mama made sure to make it known).  Elain wouldn’t let the moment be ruined, however.  She returned her sister’s embrace as tightly as she could.  They were soon joined by Nesta who, much to Elain’s surprise had tears in her eyes.  She couldn’t remember ever seeing her sister cry.

“If he ever hurts you, I’ll kill him,” Nesta said fiercely.  And Elain was inclined to believe her.

.*.*.*.

Much to Elain’s delight, Lucien managed to usher them on their honeymoon not long after that.  Jurian and Vassa’s summer manor was a day’s ride away, meaning they would need plenty of time to get their reasonably.  They would end up spending a night at an inn all the same, but Elain could have kissed Lucien all over again for getting them out of the city as quickly as he had.

Her sisters had seen to collecting and packing her things, most of which would be delivered to her new home with Lucien.  It would only be a small cottage near the duke’s home, but it would be well enough for Elain.  So long as it put distance between her own family.

But she wouldn’t worry about any of that for a blessed month. 

Even though the carriage, provided them by the duke and duchess, had just barely left the main roads of the city, Elain found herself plastered to the window watching the change in scenery.  The large buildings and homes bled away into sweeping hills and fields of grass.  The actual road was still in decent enough condition that the ride was smooth and even.  It afforded her the peace of a settled stomach as the world swept by.

“Have you never come this way?” Lucien asked from his seat across from her.

Elain settled back, straightening her skirts.  Here she was acting like an over eager child.  She needed to show grace, decorum. 

“Only once when I was a child,” she said, “my aunt lives out here, I believe we’ve passed her road.  But it’s been sometime since I’ve traveled.”

She couldn’t help the wistful tone in her voice.  She loved to travel.  At least, she expected she would.  Her limited exposure to the world had only sustained that to her.  Meeting new people, experiencing new customs, seeing the beauty of new lands—it all sounded magical and wonderful.

“Hmm,” was all Lucien said.  Though, he still watched her closely.

It was the first time they’d been alone together since the broom closet debacle and Elain wasn’t quite sure how to act.  He was her husband who was supposed to be her friend and not her husband.  Their relationship would take some time to sort out and Elain wasn’t quite sure how to broach the topic herself.  She wasn’t even sure how to talk to him at all.

“Don’t you enjoy travel?” she asked, because that’s what a good friend did.  A good friend was concerned and involved and knowledgeable of their person.  “I’ve heard you did quite a bit of it.”

Lucien stretched out of his side of the carriage, his long legs bumping against hers but he made no effort to change his posture.  He looked so utterly relaxed that Elain didn’t know what to make of it.  He’d always been so meticulously put together, so at ease with life around him.  Yet here he was now with a slightly rumpled appearance and casual.

“I have,” he agreed, “my father needed someone to represent our house and since I couldn’t serve in the military, that’s wear I fell in.” A wry smile flashed across his handsome face. “It was never to places I would have liked, unfortunately.”

There was hidden meaning in his words that Elain couldn’t quite decipher.  She’d been witness to these offhanded remarks before, silently questioned them.

“Well, then we will need to some travelling of our own,” Elain said.

“Will we?” Another raise of his brow.

Elain felt a rush of heat to her cheeks.  She’d misspoken, it seemed.  Or she just spoke of things she needn’t have.  Or been too presumptuous.

“Well we’re newlyweds,” she replied as if that was a good response.  “We’re afforded our liberties.  Besides, it’ll keep us away from prying eyes.”

She was thinking exclusively of her mother but really the entire -ton could be included in that.  As soon as they returned, she knew there would be a bid out for whether she was pregnant or not.  A thought that both terrified and upset her.

“What is it?” Lucien asked.

Elain snapped her eyes back to his face unaware her gaze had wandered.  Nor that her brow had furrowed so thoroughly.

“Pardon?” She straightened, sitting up straighter, clasping her hands, and smoothing any doubt or frustration from her expression.

Lucien leaned forward; elbows braced on his knees.  He regarded her with a mute expression. “You’re upset.”

“No, I’m not,” she said primly, smoothing her skirts again.

“Liar,” he said.

Elain gaped at him. “Excuse me?”

“You are outright lying to me, my lady,” he said, shaking his head morosely.  “Not even a day in to our marriage and my wife doesn’t trust me.”

My wife.

Elain nearly shivered at the words.  Which was a ridiculous reaction to have.  Heavens above.

“I don’t even know your middle name,” she replied, “how can I trust someone if I don’t know that, at least?”

His stoic façade splintered as he grinned.  She did like when he smiled like that.

“I don’t know yours.  So I believe we are at an impasse.”

He was taunting her. 

“Ah, but see, you’re the one who convinced me to take part in this arrangement, which means you owe me.”

Elain found herself leaning closer to him with each word.  She couldn’t necessarily help it, being drawn to him.  There was something about him that she couldn’t shake, an itch she couldn’t scratch.  Being close certainly helped.  But by this point she was impossibly close.  Close enough that she could see the outlines of his scars and the way the faded into his skin.  She could see the golden flecks of his eyes that melted into rich brown.

“I owe you?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

Lucien only shook his head, that infuriating smile remaining on his lips.

The rest of the carriage ride passed by slowly, not that Elain minded.  She loved watching the world pass by, loved seeing the way the terrain rolled together, loved the way the sky faded from blue to a hazy gold and flushed pinked.

It was only then that she remembered they would be stopping for the night at an inn.  Her heartbeat kicked up and she felt her body flood with heat and then an icy chill.  She knew what the wedding night was about and what to expect, but she and Lucien hadn’t discussed that.  They were friends.  Friends.

“It looks like we’re pulling into the inn now,” Lucien spoke up.  He paused a moment and then, as though reading her thoughts, continued to speak.  “I’m sure we can arrange for two rooms.”

Yes.  No.  Before Elain could think of a proper response the carriage rolled to a stop before the inn.  A footman hopped down from his perch almost instantly to open the door. 

Cool night air filtered inside the carriage, reminding Elain just how chill the season could still be.  She tugged her shawl tighter around her shoulders as Lucien exited.  He reached back with a proffered hand to help Elain in her decent.  She accepted, grasping his fingers in what would be the first time they’d touched since the wedding.  Lucien waited until he was sure she was grounded before release her hand and instructing the footman and driver of their duties for the evening. 

Just behind, another carriage approached, this one filled with their belongings and their respective servants. 

“I’ll make sure your room is ready and have dinner sent up,” Lucien told her.  He kept her hand tight in his grasp drawing her closer to his side.  She had to admit that she didn’t quite mind the protective nature.  Not right now at least.

“Thank-you,” Elain said.  She didn’t let him pull away either.  Not until they’d entered the inn and the keeper’s wife immediately swept Elain of with her.

Elain cast a single glance over her shoulder to find Lucien watch her as she departed.  She’d told herself that she wasn’t going to look back, told herself she didn’t need to.  But she did all the same, her breath catching at the soft look in his gaze.

She stomped down the feelings that rose in her chest, hard.  She did not need to feel things for him.  Especially not when they were still figuring out who they were to one another.  Married or not, friends or not, they still didn’t know each other.

The innkeeper’s wife led Elain and her lady’s maid upstairs to a room.  For once, Elain was grateful for her husband’s reputation and status as a duke’s son, it allowed a bit of an expedited process to get a room.

The room in question was a modest size, but not small by any means.  It boasted a spacious area with a large bed and fireplace already crackling happily.  A smaller doorway led to where a wash bin and the chamber pot were kept.  A footman dropped one of Elain’s trunks at the end of the bed before bowing out.  Immediately, her maid set to readying her night clothes.

“My lady,” Nuala said, voice chipper as it always way, “I can prepare a bath if you’d like before Lord Vanserra—”

“No,” Elain said quickly.  “It’s been a long day, just getting ready for bed is enough.”

She ignored the way her skin flushed and the sudden heat that washed over her.  She didn’t want to think at all about what her wedding night was supposed to be.  All she wanted was to get in her nightgown and go to bed and put this day behind her.

Nuala was just beginning to plait her hair for bed when there was a soft knock at the door.

Elain froze in her seat before the vanity.  Nuala gave her a significant look through the mirror, which she promptly ignored.  Instead, Elain tied off the braid herself and stood, running her hands down her nightdress.  It wasn’t scandalous by any means, a simple silk thing with lace hems.  She hadn’t even bothered to get anything nicer. 

“Enter,” Elain said.  At least her voice didn’t warble.  She tugged on her robe for good measure as she stood in the center of the room.  Nuala cleaned the vanity and tucked her dress away without a sound.

The door opened to Lucien.  He didn’t enter the room completely, only remained in the doorway.

“Lady Vanserra,” he said, telling her his own valet was with him as well. “It seems the inn is limited on rooms.”

It took a long stretch of silence before Elain grasped his meaning.

“Of course,” she said, “come in. I’ve finished my preparations.”

The door opened a bit wider and Lucien entered, his valet and a footman behind him.  The valet held a tray of food and the footman one of Lucien’s own trunk.  While the footman left immediately, the valet remained.  He held on to the tray, standing dutifully out of the way.

“Set the tray on the bed,” Elain instructed him.  “The washroom is available for Lord Vanserra to make his own preparations.  Nuala, you’re dismissed, go get some rest.”

Both servants obeyed with efficiency.  The valet extracting a few of Lucien’s items to take to the washroom. 

With perhaps five minutes to herself, Elain sat on the bed and grabbed a bowl of stew and roll that were waiting for her.  It was a simple meal; the stew had thick chunks of beef and potatoes, the roll light and buttery.  Her mother would have turned her nose to such a meal served in such a way, but Elain quite enjoyed it.

She wondered if she could finish and move the tray from the vanity and slip into bed to pretend she was asleep.  She barely ran through that checklist before the washroom door opened again.  Shame, she would have liked to avoid anymore awkward interactions that night.

Lucien dismissed his valet and when the door clicked shut, he released a long sigh.

“Tired?” Elain asked.  The question slipped out before she could stop it.  She didn’t know why it felt so strange asking him a question, so strange venturing into whatever this would be.

“It was a long day,” Lucien said, a wry smile twisting his lips.  He wore a loose linen night shirt and a pair of cotton trousers, nothing elaborate.  She didn’t know why she’d expect anything different.

“Well have a seat and eat something,” Elain told him. “You must be as hungry as I am.”

He paused a moment as if debating to himself what he wanted to do.  He came to some sort of conclusion before crossing to the opposite sit of the bed and taking a seat on the edge.  The bed sank beneath his weight.  When he took his own bowl of soup and roll, they fell into a companiable silence.

It did nothing to ease Elain’s anxiety.  Sure, when she was able to garden or bake and she could fall into a meditative state as she worked.  She liked having her thoughts to herself, liked being able to think about whatever she wanted.  But now, she felt a surge of energy building in the room.

“How are you feeling?” Lucien asked, his bowl half drained in a matter of minutes. 

“Fine,” Elain murmured, “just tired.”

She tore a piece of her roll, nibbling it.  There was still plenty of space between them, she on her side of the bed and he on his. 

“If this is making you uncomfortable—” he began.

“Lucien,” she cut him off and smiled softly. “It’s fine.  I’m fine.”

When he set his finished bowl down, Elain thought that would be the end of it.  That he would clear the dishes and set the tray out in the hall for a maid to collect.  Instead, he reached over and took her hand in his.  Just like at their wedding, when their fingers touched, she felt a spark and gooseflesh pebbled on her skin.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

There was an earnestness in his eyes that had her heart squeezing.

“Of course,” she replied, doing her best to push against the rising heat in her cheeks.  She set her own bowl down and stuffed the remainder of her roll in her mouth before sweeping the tray up to take to the door herself.

She thought she’d managed to temper her emotions by the time she turned back around.  Only when she did, she found Lucien was looking at her with a small frown that clouded his features.  Elain wondered if she’d said something wrong or misspoke in some way.

“You,” he paused a moment, “I didn’t coerce you into something you did not want?”

“No, Lucien.” Her heart squeezed again, more painful this time as she thought on his words. “H-have I already been such a miserable friend you regret the offer?”

“No,” he said.  Again, he reached for her hand, this time pulling her closer until her knees bumped against the bed. “No regrets.”

She wondered, briefly, if he was lying to her.  Not that it would surprise her if he were.  They’d been friends barely a month, married less than a day—what reason did he have to trust her?

“If you would prefer, I can sleep on the floor,” he said, “let you have the bed.”

“Nonsense,” she said immediately, “you’re the son of a duke.  You’re not sleeping on the floor.  The bed is perfectly big enough for the both of us.”

Even if it would only be sleeping, she wouldn’t be alone in bed.  Not on her wedding night.

Lucien seemed reluctant to agree, but when Elain fixed him with a glare, he obliged and scooted to the other side of the bed.

With far more courage than she ever thought she could muster, Elain settled into bed beside him.

“We never did establish any rules, did we?” she asked, busying herself with flattening the wrinkles in the bedspread.

“Rules?” Lucien repeated.

“Of what—of how—” She bit her words off and stared forward into the fire at the opposite end of the room. “Of where we go from here.  I know there are expectations for us, for you.”

“I don’t care about anyone’s expectations,” he said, “we don’t have to define ourselves by anyone.  Least of all—”

He trailed off and Elain looked at him.

“Least of all?” she prodded.

“Nothing.”  Lucien turned down the oil lamp on his bedside table, casting the room into a cold darkness, save the low burning fire. “Let’s sleep, Elain.”

Elain wasn’t pleased with his non-answer.  She kept looking at him in the darkness willing him to say something else, willing herself to work up the courage to speak up herself.  But nothing came out.  Hunkering down in bed, Elain turned on her side and closed her eyes to a dreamless sleep.

[shiorimakibawrites]

Stormy Weather (Daredevil fic)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 726

Summary: It was a dark and stormy night when Matt returns home with a surprising rescue.

Warnings: Referenced missing child, referenced animal abuse, character experiencing mild hypothermia.

Once again, this for Mandy's Sweater Weather Writing Challenge since that prompt list has really inspired the muses. In this case, the prompt is "Get inside, you're all wet."

Tagging @she-likesorchids because this was inspired by her challenge and prompt list as well as @bellaxgiornata since you seem to be having a rough day (week) and it sounded like you needed some fluff.

Stormy Weather

by Shiori_Makiba

You were worried.

Granted you were always a little worried about Matt while he was out. Being Daredevil, after all, was dangerous. But right now you were feeling especially worried.

An hour ago, it had started to rain. No big deal, you had thought. It wasn’t the first time it had rained while Matt was out. It wouldn’t be the last. Besides, it was just a little drizzle and the suit was fairly water resistant.

It hadn’t stayed a drizzle for long. It had grown and grown until it was storm. A bad one. Rain was pounding down on the roof like a drum while the howling wind rattled the windows. Lightning raced across the skies, chased by deafening roars of thunder. So far the power has holding it but it had flickered more than once.

And Matt still wasn’t home. He had never stayed out in weather like this for so long. It was too dangerous. He had told you once that big thunderstorms didn’t play well with his senses. So why wasn’t he home?

You paced and fretted as scenario after scenario played across your mind, each one each worse than the last.

The storm was so loud that it took you a minute to realize that thumping sound you were hearing wasn’t part of it. Once you did, you also realized where it was coming from. The roof access door.

You raced up the stairs. And discovered that the door got stuck when it was this wet. It took considerable amount of force and a lot of swearing to get it unstuck. And standing there in the pouring rain was Matt, his arms filled . . .

“Are those kittens?” you asked, shocked.

“Yes,” he said. While part of you wanted to know what he was doing with an armload of kittens, the rest of your mind had more pressing concerns. Like the fact that he looked thoroughly soaked and was probably freezing.

“Get inside, you’re all wet,” you said, moving to the side so he could get by. Which he did, immediately heading down the stairs and toward the bathroom. You followed, trying to avoid stepping in the puddles of water he left his wake with your sock-clad feet.

Through he was shivering and his teeth were chattering, Matt was more concerned with the kittens’ welfare than his own. Which didn’t surprise you at all. Deep inside the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was made out of marshmallow fluff. And in fairness to Matt, their little meows were rather heartbreaking.

Only your promise to tend to the kittens got Matt to start removing his wet suit in favor of warm, dry clothes. While he did, he explained how he had found them. When the weather had turned nasty, he had started to head home but heard a set of parents frantically calling for their son, a toddler who had somehow managed to get himself out of their apartment. Matt had found the little boy hiding behind a dumpster. Who, at first, was too frightened of the storm to come out but eventually Matt managed to coax him out and get him back to his parents, cold and wet but otherwise unharmed.

Given the lightning, Matt had opted to make most of the trip home on the ground. And in alley not far from his apartment, he found the kittens. Who had been literally thrown away in the dumpster. Normally he would take them to the one of the shelters or vet clinics he knew was open at night but given the weather, he opted to take them home instead. You knew the rest.

Half an hour later found you and Matt were curled up on the couch under a blanket, sipping apple cider while the five kittens slept in a nest of blankets and your heating pad on the coffee table. In the morning, you would take the kittens to the shelter or contact your friend who did cat fostering to see if she knew anyone who could take them.

You tried to feel disappointed about that. It was hard. They were so cute and so small, it was hard not to fall in love with them. But there was no way Matt would agree to keep five cats . . .

But surely you could talk him into one . . .

End Note

In the US, apple cider usually means the non-alcoholic version and is called hard cider when its not. In this case, served warm and sweetened with honey to help Matty recover from his mild hypothermia.

It is not recommended to give alcohol or caffeine to someone with hypothermia.

[daddycassie]

Fight or Flight Chapter 5 🌧️☀️❤️

Pairing: Lucy Gray Baird x Fem! Reader - 1,364 words

Warnings: Smut, praise, slight teasing, vanilla smut, lots of fingering and kissing, nipple play(mild)

————————————— When you wake up it’s cold and wet and the crackling of the fire from last night is gone. That was probably a good thing. With a groan, you realize it must’ve rained again.

Lucy Gray stirs next to you, and you take notice of how beautiful her hair looks drenched in rainwater. “Morning sunshine.” You smile despite your previous grumpy mood. “Jesus…” she mumbles, “it’s freezin’.” You nod, and rub her arm to insulate it at least a little.

She has goosebumps. “It rained last night. We must be some real hard sleepers.” Lucy Gray laughs groggily. “Must be. I didn’t feel a single thing.” You sit up carefully and take notice that the cat had vanished. “Your cat is gone.”

That wakes her up swiftly. “Oh no.” She frowns. “That’s too bad, I liked him.” You pat her on the back soothingly. “Sorry Lu.” She sighs. “It’s okay, some animals just wanna be free.”

You stretch with some slight cracking sounds. “Maybe you’ll find each other again someday.” Lucy Gray gives you a knowing smile. “I’m sure we will.” Her mood had shifted entirely. Lucy Gray smiles. “I’m sure we will. But if we don’t that’s okay too.”

You watch in wonder as she too stretches. “Wish we had a nice way to warm up, I’d hate hikin’ about like this. But Shamus ain’t here and all our spare clothes are wet now.” You blush at the first place your mind went to. Don’t start letting your mind slip! You chide yourself internally.

“I might have some in my bag, but I doubt they’re much dryer.” Lucy Gray turns to you. “I’ll take what I can get!” You smile softly and grab your bag. After a minute or two of sifting through it you find one of Lucy Gray’s colorful dress. Dry. You hand it over to her.

“That works!” She chuckles, but then takes a pause. “Oh.” You turn away from her and hear the rustling of clothing. “I.. don’t actually mind if you look Y/n.” Her voice betrays how flustered she is. You want to ask if she’s sure, but you find yourself a bit too eager.

You turn back around and look at Lucy Gray, your heart beating out of your chest. She’s blushing hard, still wearing her rain-soaked, crochet under garments. “They’ll get the dress wet.” You comment, not bothering to hide your eagerness to see her fully disrobed. Lucy Gray nods nervously, “Right.”

You watch while she takes off her top, trying(and failing) not to stare. You want to touch her, here and now. Tear her clothing off yourself. But you don’t, resisting, you just watch. Lucy Gray seems acutely aware of your gaze, she certainly didn’t feel freezing right now.

“Is it prettier than my hands?” She breathes. You nod again. “By far.” Lucy Gray looks up at you with something in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. Slowly, albeit not hesitantly, Lucy Gray removes her bottoms.

It all happens so fast, you hardly register your own actions. You shove her down on the pile of damp clothing again. “You’re teasing me.” You whisper in her ear and she shudders. Lucy Gray doesn’t deny it, but proves it true when she moves her arms from her sides and splays them over her head. You hover over her like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like you’d done this before.

Your eyes move down to her breasts, they seemed like the perfect shape, plush and round. “You wouldn’t make a move otherwise.” She narrows her dark eyes and you look back at her face. “You wanted me to?” Lucy Gray groans dramatically. “Yes!” the songbird huffs, turning her head away. “You’re so dense—“

Before she can say anything else, you kiss her. Finally. The way she melts reminds you of last night. But last night, you were nothing but friends comforting each other. This was a whole other realm away from that.

Lucy Gray clings to you soaked clothing, begging for something more. You touch her chest and her gasp allows you to deepen the kiss. The fact that she whines into your mouth is arousing in and of itself, but then you feel her legs wrap around you and the feeling intensifies tenfold. You pinch one of her hardened nipples.

You stifle Lucy Gray’s moan with more kissing, but that doesn’t stop it from being noisy. She groans as you pinch and pull, both teasing and readying her. After a while you pull away for a breath and she looks up at you. You listen to the way she pants and gasps. “That was… one hell of a kiss…” She whispers to you.

You grin devilishly. “It’s not all I’ve got in store for you.” You lean down and kiss her collarbone. Lucy Gray’s breath hitches. You can see the way the muscles in her neck tense up. Your hands move down on her body, the surface of her skin heating up more the lower down you go.

She releases a mewl and her back arches up into your touch. You squeeze her hips and carefully push her back down. She breathes a whine and you take notice of just how soaked she is. “Lucy Gray…” You whisper into her flushed ear. 

She moans at the way your voice lowers, why not give her something real to moan for? With two diligent fingers you caress her clit, Lucy Gray’s reaction is instant. She whines loudly, and presses her hips up, hot and slippery. Wordlessly, you pinch her clit, causing the smaller woman to cry out.

“Wait a minute—“ She groans, but you don’t give her the time to say anything. You press those two fingers teasingly against her cunt’s entrance, feeling the way she throbs and clenches but not pushing in. You look at her lustful expression, the pout she has doesn’t last long. You listen to her whiny voice with a sense of satisfaction.

Partially, you press in your pointer finger. Her gasp indicates her excitement at the gesture. You only give her up to the first joint on your finger before pulling back out. Lucy Gray growls in frustration. “Y/n, please.” She gives you a pleading look.

You sigh softly. “Have you ever done this before?” She questions. You give a nod. “Have you?” Lucy Gray bites her lower lip in anticipation. “Not with a woman.” She sounds nervous.

You slowly press two fingers into her and she sighs out a relieved whimper. You watch her face as it contorts in pleasure. “I’ll be gentle.” Lucy Gray nods quickly and clings onto your shoulders. You help her sit up and lean against you.

You thrust slowly, rubbing her clit to add to her pleasure. Lucy Gray presses her hips down. Suddenly you find yourself knuckle deep, and Lucy Gray is mewling desperately. You take that as a sign to speed up. “That’s it, good girl.” You coo, she tense, eyes rolling.

The way she starts moaning your name is tantalizing. You pull her closer, rubbing her back while you pump into her. “Lucy Gray.” You call for her attention. She looks up at you.

“I love you Lucy Gray.” Her eyes widen, tearing up more. She buries her face into the crook of your neck. “I love you too-“ Lucy Gray speaks between aching, pleasure filled thrusts. “I love you so much.” She sobs.

You cup the back of her head and kiss her hard. It’s passionate, loving. It’s the best damn kiss you’ve ever had in your life. Lucy Gray wraps her arms around your shoulders, panting warmly. 

“More than anything.” Her words are smothered within the kiss, but you hear them. You bury three fingers deep inside of her cunt and she tears up, clenching tight. She moans into the kiss and you feel her hole drooling out cum. You pull out, and softly pepper her face with kisses.

“I love you more.” You speak quietly and she smiles. You’re unsure if it’s at your words or the comfortable afterglow she’s experiencing. Regardless, you holds her close and she cuddles back. “Not possible.” You smile at her answer.

————————————

Note: this one was originally just going to be them kissing and stuff, maybe cuddles but my friends said I was totally building sexual tension when I MEANT to build romantic tension, so uh, here ya go it’s spicy 😭

me trying desperately not to write gay sex:

@noooooooop-e hope this fulfills what you wanted :)

@nothininteresting

[love-kurdt]

Now That We Don't Talk (byler): 1

word count: 13,034

warnings for this chapter: mild sexual content, a few homophobic slurs. this is semi-autobiographical so pls be kind <3

in short, if you are emotionally or mentally vulnerable, pls dni.

When I first moved to California, it had taken me two whole months to fully unpack my boxes. And it wasn’t really a mystery as to why; I had no desire to be there. Yes, I’ll admit that I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of Hawkins, either, considering the events of the past few years, but when it all came down to the nitty-gritty, Hawkins was the lesser of two evils. Because Hawkins had Mike, and Lenora was… well, Mike-less. I’d never really thought about my life without Mike in it up until then, because I didn’t think I’d ever have to. But then I did have to. And it was an awful feeling.

We’d driven away from the old house, and I watched as Mike became smaller and smaller, until he was merely a stick figure in the passenger side mirror. I’d blinked my tears away and turned my gaze to the road ahead, trying to focus on the lyrics of whatever song by the Smiths that Jon was playing, but it was impossible to take my mind off of my new reality. As cliché as this sounds, I felt a piece of my heart break that day. And from the look on Mike’s face as he stood idly by, bike leaning against his hip, he was hurting just as much as I was. He’d looked lost, confused, and hurt. I could totally relate.

When we’d arrived in our new house, I’d had mixed feelings about it at first, because that’s what usually happens when you arrive in an unfamiliar environment, but then those feelings pretty much dissipated within a day. The house was bigger, for one, which was nice in a way. It had two floors, and had enough rooms in it so that El, Jon, and I didn’t have to bunk up like we’d been doing up until the move. It was in a bigger town than Hawkins was, so not everybody knew each other’s business. Which was great, considering that the Zombie Boy name hadn’t been able to tag along for the ride.

It was a lot warmer than it had been in Hawkins, and I’d grown to hate the cold over the past few years, so that was a welcome change. It was a welcome change for everyone, I think. We’d taken time during our first week in our new home to just sit together on the deck, basking in the sunshine. We learned quickly that sunscreen was a must in California, even when it wasn’t scorching hot. I’d burnt my nose on more than one occasion, and El proceeded to call me Rudolph at every possible opportunity.

El’s addition to the family was another perk of moving. El and Mom had been able to bond really well, albeit over the loss of Hopper, but also because Mom finally had a daughter. El and Jon got along well, too, which was nice. And I was cool with her. She never did anything wrong to me… besides dating Mike, of course, but that was completely out of my control. Plus, it wasn’t like he’d ever want to be with me in that way. He’d set that in stone over that one summer when he told me, “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”

Not even half an hour after our fight in the rain, Mike and Lucas had biked over to my house to apologize. Of course, my demolition of Castle Byers and the return of the Mind Flayer had me kind of preoccupied at that point, so nothing officially happened to resolve that situation. It was the Subject Change of the Century; we got so wrapped up in the Upside Down stuff that Mike and I put it off, then put it off some more, and then swept it under the rug altogether.

Nothing was the same after that night… at least, not on my end. What Mike said to me kind of changed my life. I’d become so dependent upon his overwhelming presence near me all the time that I kind of lost sight of myself and my own identity. In my mind, I wasn’t Will; I was Mike’s-Friend-Will. I felt worthless without him, and was always so quick to forgive him out of fear of losing him that I’d inadvertently become Passive with a capital P. And I didn’t want to be that way anymore. So I created a strictly platonic boundary between us, one that allowed the tension to dissolve, and to give myself space to grieve the idea of Mike I’d created; the one who loved me back. And then… we were back to best friends again. Just in time for me to move. At least Mike and I would still be able to talk over the phone.

I could not have been more wrong. Mike did not make a single call for the entire seven months that we were in Lenora. He didn’t send a single letter, either. Well, at least not to me. El was in correspondence with him literally every week, practically skipping into the house after trips to the mailbox with letters upon letters in her hands, beaming with excitement. I hate to admit it, but it got really annoying after a while. Then, she’d started building a shoebox shrine to him, and I was just like, what’s so special about him? He’s just Mike. But then I realized that if I were in her shoes, I’d be doing the exact same thing. Because he was Just Mike, and that was why I loved him.

After watching this go on for a few months, I kind of fell into a depression, and El was too busy swooning over all the “From, Mike”s to notice that I was falling apart. I had resigned from the idea of reaching out to Mike, because he hadn’t made any kind of effort to reach out to me. That was when I decided to finally start unpacking my boxes. Unpacking meant that the move became real. Unpacking meant that it was permanent. Unpacking meant that I’d have to officially start my new life, at a new school— high school— without Mike in it.

Each box represented a call and letter El received. My clothes were put on hangers in the closet, and my art supplies finally found a place next to my bedroom window. And all of Mike’s writing was shoved away into the darkest depths of my lowest desk drawer, never to see the light of day again. Yeah, I was being petty, but I was angry. I deserved to be angry, damnit. I was angry at Mike for abandoning me, and I was angry at myself for being delusional enough to believe Mike cared that much about our friendship.

But then, I started the painting. The Painting. I’d sworn to myself that I would stop making art that revolved around Mike. He would no longer be my muse. I’d started off the piece as a typical landscape, but I added the Thessalhydra, and then I added myself, Lucas, Dustin, and… Mike, at the front, leading the Party to victory. Screw it, I had thought to myself, everyone else is in the painting, it’d be weird not to include Mike. When I painted the red heart on his shield as a finishing touch, it hit me like a truck that I’d created one of my best paintings to date with Mike in my subconscious thoughts the whole time. He was inescapable. There was no use in ripping myself up over what I couldn’t control, so I figured I’d just give him the painting during Spring Break.

Spring Break happened, and boy (man, really; the boyish look had almost completely faded away), Mike had changed, in more ways than one. He’d shown up the airport gate nearly half a foot taller, with sharper cheekbones, longer hair, and a deeper voice, wearing the dumbest looking outfit I’d ever seen. I was so happy to see him. He hadn’t been as excited as I was, considering the timid clap on the shoulder I’d been given while I’d gone in expecting one of his amazing, tight hugs. He’d always given the best hugs. Not anymore, I’d supposed. So I tucked my rolled up painting back under my arm and took a step back, letting El and Mike have their time together as a couple. I admired him from afar, but that was all I ever did.

Mike had changed, in more ways than one; he’d gotten so much more attractive… but he’d also turned into a total asshole. I finally confronted him about his standoffish behavior at Rink-o-Mania, and he’d placed all the blame on me, not once taking responsibility for essentially forgetting that I existed, and on my birthday, no less. When I asked why El got so many letters while I got absolutely nothing, he replied that it was because she was his girlfriend. Which, yeah, obviously. But when I followed up with, “...And us?” Mike had snapped, “We’re friends. We’re. Friends.” As the two of us laid in my bed that night, it set in that Mike had taken my question in a romantic context. That made my heart flutter a little bit, but I shut myself down immediately, because I was not going down that road again.

My mood hadn’t shifted much when we’d initially arrived back in Hawkins, following the worst road trip I had ever had the displeasure of going on. I’d been trapped in a weed-infused van, sitting inches away from a wordless Mike. I’d given the painting to Mike and lied about its origins just to boost his ego. And worst of all, I endured an Emotional Michael Monologue in which he told El that he loved her multiple times. When we got out of the van, I had taken the biggest sigh of relief, because thank God the suffering was over. Oh wait, no, scratch that, because the suffering had only just begun; Vecna was the “Him,” I’d been feeling all those years, and “He,” was destroying Hawkins as we spoke.

About a month into the Vecnapocalypse (Dustin had been the one to coin that term, and I’d doubled over laughing during a very important group meeting when he’d first used it), Mike had told me that he’d finally broken up with El. I was secretly elated; the mope-fest was finally over. But when Mike revealed the reason why they’d broken up, which was the very painting that I had used as a device to try and clear the air between Mike and my sister, my back-breaking efforts seemed to be all for nothing. We had a little argument-turned-heart-to-heart about it, but we hugged it out in the end like best friends do. And things were fine. We were a team again, and that’s what mattered most.

The dynamic between Mike and I changed, though, throughout the course of the Vecnapocalypse. And I wasn’t complaining. We’d gone from being virtually radio silent to… whatever the situation was. We’d flirt, hold hands, listen to each other’s mixtapes, and partnered up together during missions. This continued on for a while until one particular moment in the Upside Down, when Mike had leaned in a bit too close, almost as if we were about to… no way. I was beyond tempted to lean in as well, caving into the deepest desire I’d ever had in my life: kissing Michael James Wheeler square on the mouth. And I almost did. However, in typical Mike fashion, ever the dramatic, he’d jumped backwards, stumbled outside, tripped over a gigantic vine, and triggered a bunch of Demobats to swarm the Upside Down version of the Wheeler house. After that shit show, I couldn’t help but be a little bit bitter towards Mike. That side-battle could have cost us everything. Vecna could have won. And on top of all that, I was tired of being led on by Mike and all of his contradictions, so I kept Mike at a physical distance from there on out. We never brought up the Almost-Kiss ever again.

Things got even stranger a few years later. On one particularly gross day in August of 1989, I’d dropped by the Wheelers’ to ask Mike if he wanted to watch a movie later that night. I headed up to his room, and the door was slightly ajar, so I lightly knocked. No response. He probably had his headphones on or something. I walked in, but he was nowhere to be seen. His notebook was lying open on his desk beside a pile of multiple ripped-out pages, with one of his signature blue LePens sitting on top of the page, the cap cast to the side. Mike had a bad habit of accidentally letting his overly-expensive pens dry out, so I figured I’d do him a favor and put it back on and save him the trouble. I took a few steps over to his desk and reached for the pen, but immediately paused in my tracks when I noticed the first two words he’d written on top of the page.

Dear Will,

I shouldn’t have read any further, because I wasn’t sure if it was Mike’s intention for me to even see it, but it was too late to go back. My eyes involuntarily scanned the page, widening more and more with every sentence.

Dear Will, When I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my life. Poetic, I know. It kind of came out of nowhere. You know I’m not much of a poetry kind of guy, I’m more of a storyteller, but the thought came to me in a dream I had about you, and I just had to write it down in one of these letters.

Hold up, I thought. What the hell? He… had a dream about me? Why would he have a dream about… Why me? What letters? What was he talking ab— My eyes hesitantly drifted to the pile of papers beside the notebook. I gulped, my suspicions confirmed.

You’re asleep in my bed, and I’m hunched over my desk, writing this letter because I am freaking the fuck out. And not because I almost ruined our chance to defeat Vecna. Well, that too, sorry about that. But the primary reason for my current freak out session is because we almost kissed. And that’s weird.

I flipped to the next one.

Something is wrong with me. I swear to God, I didn’t mean for this to happen. But I keep staring at you for longer than I should. And I can’t look away. I haven’t been able to since the Almost Kiss™. You’ve caught me looking these past few times and I feel myself burning up like a match every time. And I’ve come to the conclusion that you, Will Byers, are my flame.

And the next one.

I’ve kind of gotten used to sleeping in the same bed as you, subconsciously cuddling through the night, and waking up tangled together. Your face is so relaxed right now, and you hum contentedly to yourself every few minutes. It’s so fucking cute. I’m glad you’re not having as many nightmares anymore. Or, at least you’re having slightly better dreams. I should go to bed soon. I don’t want you to catch me writing. But yeah. You’re adorable. And I really like you.

And the next one.

I was so caught off guard by the fact that you called me cute that I couldn’t get any words out. You turned around quickly to get your bike and hopped on, giving me a small wave as you left my driveway. And it hit me then: I love you. I am in love with you. Unabashedly, wholeheartedly, head over my fucking heels in love with you. And believe me, this has been a long time coming, and not just because you complimented me. I think I’ve loved you for a long time. I just didn’t know what it was.

And the next one.

Why does loving you feel so wrong, yet so right? It seems like for every thought I have about you, another comes to bite me in the ass. I wish I could just think about you in peace without all of the shame. But at the same time, I know it isn’t normal for me to like you, to love you, to want you. I’m usually able to stop my mind from wandering into that territory, but there’s something about you that is making it more and more difficult for me to resist those thoughts from entering my head. I think the main culprit is your shoulders. Yes, I said it. I am attracted to your shoulders. Specifically when you wear your polo shirts that are a size or two too small and hug your upper body a little too tightly. Or when you steal my leather jacket and shove it on, and it accentuates your arms, rather than making them disappear like it does to mine. You’re so attractive, it’s actually crazy. I think my brain needs to catch up to my heart. Because my heart is thriving, but my brain is a killjoy.

Another.

I turned to my dad with a wild look in my eyes (probably), and said some shit like, “Yeah, me and my boyfriend, Will Byers, had such a great time last night! We stared longingly into each others’ eyes for hours, then we cuddled, then we kissed, and then we got each other off! It was so hot, Dad. Truly. I wish you could’ve seen–” … I know what I said was a lot. I mean, it was pretty vulgar. Plus, it's never actually happened, and it never will happen. So I'm sorry about that.

Another.

I found this set of dice, though, and they were just… so you. They were a deep, translucent purple with gold stars painted around each number, all of which were also gold. They reminded me of your Will the Wise costume. I know you haven’t worn it in a long time, and that’s probably my fault. I think the last time you wore it was the day we had that fight in the garage, when I told you it wasn’t my fault you didn’t like girls. And the sick, twisted irony of that is, in reality, I’m the one out of the both of us who doesn’t like girls.

Another. Another. Another.

I think about you and those fucking gorgeous lips almost every waking moment. And the urge to follow through with my desire to kiss you always gets stronger whenever you’re in the room. Which is unfortunate, since you’re always in the room now— specifically my room, because it’s summer, so of course we’re hanging out every day. We made that stupid promise to dedicate one-on-one time to just the two of us. If only “one-on-one” was synonymous with “you-on-me.” Or “me-on-you”…? Either would work for me, honestly. But there’s something about the thought of you straddling me and leaning your entire body weight onto me that makes me weak in the knees. I’m kind of glad your mom wanted you home tonight, because there’s only so long I can refrain from lunging into your space and holding your face in between my hands and

But then, your very short swim trunks clung to your thighs, and eventually, I was able to see the full outline of your dick. Like, the whole thing. Those shorts do not leave anything to the imagination. And, imagine I did. I began to fantasize about the most lewd things: getting you off with my hand, sucking you until you came down my throat, using those thick thighs to grind myself down onto, groping your perfect ass as you flip me over onto my back, feeling the sensation of our dicks rubbing together through our clothes, feeling you on me, inside of me. That last mental image snapped me out of my thoughts, and I realized I was rock hard in my own swim trunks.

We fell asleep, together, on the couch last night, cuddling like we had during the time that you lived with me, and I felt something similar to homesickness. Nostalgia. When we woke up, I was resting my head on your chest, and I shifted my eyes upwards to look at your lips, which were slightly parted by the soundest of sleeps. I wanted to kiss you. I really, really wanted to kiss you, Will. And I want you to hold me in your arms forever, because it’s the only place I can truly call home.

I continued shuffling through the letters, counting twenty five. Plus the one in the notebook, which made a grand total of twenty six. I could barely believe what I was seeing. This had to be a kind of creative writing exercise or something. Or maybe he’d met another person named Will and… fallen deeply in love with them? Or maybe it was a cruel joke Mike was playing on me, because he’d decided that writing love letters would be a good prank to pull on his gay best friend. He had no right to do this to me. No fucking right. I ripped the last letter out of the notebook, gathered the rest of them between my sweaty hands, and headed down the two flights of stairs leading to the basement.

When I’d attempted to confront Mike about the letters, I was pinned against the wall and kissed as if it were something I should have been expecting that entire time. There was no way I could have fathomed that this was how my time in Hawkins was going to close out. I’d been looking forward to the point in my life where everything could just be normal for once; I’d been on a decent roll for the past two years. But Mike just had to go and drop the bomb on me that he wanted the two of us to spend the rest of our lives together, and that threw me for a goddamn loop, because in what world– in what universe– was Mike Wheeler loving me, Will Byers, even remotely viable? Had the Upside Down come back again? Was I trapped in a nightmarish torture chamber, with Mike as the subject of said nightmare?

I would believe it, honestly; when I mentally added up the Vecnapocalypse period of our relationship (including the Almost-Kiss), the endless mixed signals afterwards, senior prom, the letters, and the probability that Mike would have just let me leave town without admitting his stupid, dumb, impossible feelings or letting me know about all of those love letters he’d written over the past few years, it made sense. And that kiss, if he’d really meant it, made Mike’s stance on our relationship crystal fucking clear, leaving me feeling breathless and blindsided. By the time I escaped the Wheeler house that humid August evening with tears following the semi-permanent track marks that stained my face due to crying for literal years back to back, I knew for sure and certain that I couldn’t spend one more week in Hawkins, Indiana. I was done.

I had been pretty damn quick about escaping Hawkins to begin with, but the urgency to get away from Mike only accelerated my timeline. I spent the rest of the summer avoiding Mike at all costs; I’d been working at Melvald’s with my mom all summer, but started picking up extra hours under the guise of wanting to save as much money as I could for my new car– which I’d already had more than enough money for, but still. Time spent at work was time spent away from Mike. And a couple extra paychecks couldn’t hurt. Mom certainly didn’t complain; she loved having me around, and savored every moment she could with her Baby Boy before I moved to the Windy City.

I realized, as I sat on my mattress amongst heaps of boxes scattered across the floor of my dorm at the American Academy of Art, that anger seemed to fuel my unpacking process. It ignited the flame of desire for transition and change in my life. And oh, after the summer I’d just had, did I desperately need a change. This particular change, I decided, would be good for me. I was out of Hawkins, at my dream school, about to begin studying the subject that I loved most in the entire world, and Michael Wheeler wasn’t around anymore to throw me off. I grabbed a marker out of my pencil case and marked off the date on my calendar: Sunday, August 20th, 1989. This was going to be a good, drama-less, normal year. I could feel it.

“That’s everything, huh?” I turned to look towards the doorway, where my mom stood with misty eyes. She took a few steps inside, letting the door close, and I hopped off my bed and wrapped her in a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah, this is it,” I said, my voice shaking a little bit with overwhelming emotion. It was bittersweet. Yes, I hated Hawkins, and was grateful to have finally escaped, but I also hated the idea of leaving my mom back in Indiana. She’d brushed my concern off, saying she wouldn’t be alone, because my stepdad would be there with her. I didn’t even like referring to Hopper as my stepdad. I’d accidentally called Hopper “Dad,” over dinner a year ago, and after an emotional encounter where James Hopper, the Hawkins Chief of Police, shed actual tears, the name kind of stuck. Hopper couldn’t make the trip up to Chicago with Mom, as he needed to help El move into her dorm at Vanderbilt University.

Mom pulled back to smile up at me. “You are going to do, and are already doing, great things in this world, Will. You deserve every opportunity you’ve been given, and more. I am so proud to be your mom.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. I’d miss my mom the most.

“I love you,” I replied, hugging her once more in order to avoid an emotional breakdown. I’d gotten close to having one at least five times throughout the day, but never did. I saw the door open out of my peripheral vision, and I lifted my head to see a guy step into the room. His hair was shaved down to a buzzcut, and a copious amount of freckles splayed themselves across his face. He casually strode right past me, without even acknowledging my existence, before tossing his duffel bag onto his bed and unzipping it. Only now did I notice the near-complete setup on the other side of the room; he’d apparently been here for a while.

I decided to talk first and introduce myself, because this guy clearly wasn’t willing to make any effort. I wanted to make a good impression, even if Buzzcut Dude didn’t. 

“Hey, uh, I’m Will. Byers.”

“Aaron Heathrow,” Buzzcut Dude– Aaron– replied, turning towards me. We gained eye contact for the first time, and Aaron’s eyebrows curved into backwards S’s on his forehead. He looked me up and down and scoffed, returning to his unpacking without another word. Well. This was going to be an awkward arrangement, that was for sure.

“Honey, let’s go check out the common area!” Mom broke the silence, and I couldn’t help but glare back at her. I wanted to deal with this on my own. I loved my mom with my entire heart and would literally die for her, but this was not my idea of a fresh start. Mom gave me a knowing look and I, knowing my mother’s stubborn nature all too well, followed her out the door and down the hallway. She led us toward the armchairs in the common area and gestured for me to sit down next to her. I knew where this was going, but I obliged anyway.

“Are you sure–”

“Mom, oh my God, I’m fine–”

“He just seemed very–”

“Yeah, okay, he was rude,” I kept my voice low at the risk of people overhearing, but keeping my tone firm. “But not everyone in this world is kind. I, of all people, should know that.” I watched as my mom’s features fell from their usual anxiety-riddled state and into more of an empathetic sadness.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” she murmured, and for a second, I felt badly for snapping. I shook off that shame, because as unfortunate as this situation was, I knew in my gut that I was right; the world didn’t owe kindness to me. But I also knew I didn’t owe kindness to the world, either. It had taken enough from me already.

“I just want to stick this out for a little bit before jumping to conclusions,” I said, and my mom went to talk, but I continued on before she could. “I’ll switch rooms if anything does happen, I promise.” I took my mom’s hands in my own in an attempt to put her mind at ease, which would not be an easy feat, but I could at least try.

Apparently it worked, because the next thing she said to me caught me off guard: “Okay, sweetie. I’m sorry if I overstepped.” Who was this woman, and what did she do with Joyce Byers-Hopper? Hell if I knew.

“No, it’s fine,” I assured her, “I just… I want to start making my own decisions and being more independent and stuff. And I want you to know that I’ll be okay.” I placed a hand on Mom’s shoulder, knowing that this transition would be incredibly difficult for her to process. After everything that had happened with the Upside Down, I had been shocked when my mom was so encouraging regarding my pursuit of art school. I’d assumed that she would want me to stay as close to Hawkins as possible. But in the end, she had been the one to slide the American Academy of Art pamphlet across the table.

“I know you will,” Mom smiled up at me, reaching up to pat my cheek. I leaned into the affection, knowing that this would probably be my last time seeing my mom until Thanksgiving. She raised her left wrist up to her face and squinted at her watch. “I should start heading home, before it gets dark. I love you, my sweet boy.”

I couldn’t help but pull Mom in for one last hug, feeling the emotion creep back into my voice as I told my mom that I loved her so much and to call me when she got home so I’d know she was safe and sound. I walked her out of the main lobby, waving as she headed back to the visitor parking lot. When she pulled away, I turned on my heel and headed back up to my dorm room. My dorm room. Holy shit. I was in college. What even was life?

I opened the door to my room and saw Aaron laying on his bed, his basketball short-clad legs spread obnoxiously far apart in front of him as he read what looked like a book about the Reign of Ronald Reagan. Lovely. I diverted my eyes before he could catch me staring, and focused on the pile of boxes I had yet to unpack. I picked one up, set it down on the edge of my bed, and unfolded the pre-bent corners on the top to reveal my extensive sweater collection. Perfect.

I pulled out the blue sweatshirt on top, letting it fall into its full form in my hands. Oh, god. This was Mike’s sweatshirt, the one I’d stolen from him last winter. I laid it out on the mattress and reached in for the next sweater, but there weren’t any more. I peered inside the box to see the dice… that Mike had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the picture frame… that held a photo Jonathan had taken last year when Mike had the genius idea to hop his six foot three self up onto my handlebars, and the binder… that held all of Mike’s letters that he’d written to me. I’d kept everything in a shoebox under my bed back home, and I had no recollection of packing them. How did they end up making it to Chicago with me? No matter how it happened, it had, and I was stuck with all these memories of Mike. I would never throw them out, because that would most definitely keep me up at night. And I didn’t want to hide them away, because despite the sadness I felt when I looked at them, they were also accompanied by a strange sense of appreciation for what Mike and I did have: thirteen years of friendship. That’s still something, right?

I shrugged the sweatshirt on. I’m wearing it because it’s comfortable, I tried to justify myself to myself, not for any other reason. Now that that was settled, I was determined to unpack something that would make my room feel like my own. I set the dice and the picture frame on my desk and reached over to the rolled-up posters that sat on top of all my bags. I removed the tape from the edges of one of them and unrolled it to reveal the album cover of Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John. I smiled to myself and grabbed a few thumbtacks from my box labeled “School Supplies,” before standing on top of my mattress and hanging the poster on the wall. Once I was satisfied with its placement (five attempts and three concerningly lost thumbtacks later), I got off of my mattress and took a step back to admire my work, putting my hands on my hips.

“Elton John?” I heard a voice ask from behind me, and I turned around to face Aaron, whose facial expression had settled into what looked like disgust. I’d forgotten he was even there. “Jeez, man, if I knew I’d be dorming with a fag this year, I’d’ve brought my gun.” I knew it. I knew he was a homophobe, I knew it from the second he’d looked me up and down when I’d introduced myself earlier. Maybe my mom was–

“Better to shoot you with, my dear,” I replied coolly, before snapping my mouth shut and widening my eyes at the realization that I was the one who had just said that. I’d never been good at comebacks; that was more of Mike’s specialty. In high school, I was the one stuttering out the lamest retorts of all time while Mike verbally kicked our bullies’ asses right back at record speed. I envied his lack of filter sometimes.

“What did you just say?” Aaron narrowed his eyes and moved to get off his bed and meet me in the middle of our room, so we stood face to face. I could feel his breath on my face, and it smelled like stale sour cream and onion chips, but I stood my ground.

“I said,” I lowered my voice, moving closer into Aaron’s space, “I’m a pretty damn good shot, so you’d best leave me alone.” He took a few steps away from me and put his hands up in surrender. Good. When I promised to myself that things were going to be different, I meant it. I was not going to take any shit from this guy, or anyone else for that matter. Not anymore.

“Where was I?” I asked myself, flipping right back into the good mood I’d been in before. I picked up the next one and hummed to myself before hanging up my poster of The Cure’s Boys Don’t Cry.

This campus was so confusing. I had to stop and turn around on the sidewalk at least three times before I found the Convocation Hall, where I was due… right now for orientation. I pulled the unnecessarily heavy door open with all the strength I had, which was not much, but I managed to make it through and reach the sign in table for last names A-E.

“Hi! Welcome to freshman orientation!” the girl seated at the table smiled at me, and I noticed little white stars drawn in the corners of her eyes. “Can I have your last name, please?”

“Sure, it’s Byers,” I replied, “B-Y-E-R-S.”

“William okay? For your name tag.”

“Just Will’s fine.”

“Alright,” she nodded, handing me one of those cheesy Hello My Name Is stickers. “So you’re gonna be over in circle seven, head on over there and take a seat!”

“Thank…” I trailed off, having to squint so I could read the name she’d written on her tag. Kate. “Thank you, Kate!”

“You’re welcome!” she called after me, and I walked over towards the table with the giant green “7” centerpiece. I glanced down at my tag, noticing what Kate had written on my tag: Just Will. I swiveled around quickly, and watched as Kate snorted a laugh, giving me a thumbs up. She was funny. I smiled back, returning the thumbs up before approaching my group.

I had no idea what to expect; we’d obviously be going over typical orientation things like campus life, rules and regulations, and maybe a fire escape route or two. But we would also more than likely be doing icebreakers, like a “getting to know your peers” kind of deal. I hated icebreaker exercises, because not much about me was interesting. Not much that I was legally permitted to share, anyway. And even if I could, I wasn’t sure if I would want to revisit that time in my life, or if I wanted others to know about what I’d been through. I was kind of grateful that my NDAs revoked that decision for me.

I reached the only empty seat left at my table– karma for my tardiness– and sat down with my group, who was already knee-deep in conversation. The only seat left was between two girls; one of them looked like she could star in a live action anime series, and the other looked like she’d fit right in with a stoner rock band.

A guy with bleach blonde hair noticed my presence and glanced up, a smile spreading across his face. “Aye! A newcomer! Welcome! What’s your name?”

“Uh, Will,” I eloquently said.

The guy stood up, crossing the circle in order to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m Pete, your group leader, and…” he looked around at everyone else, “Why don’t we all go around the circle to catch Will up?” The girl sitting next to Pete lifted a hand in greeting, starting off the Name Game.

“Hey, I’m Claire Bierker.”

“Ryan Baker.”

“Jackson Boonstra.”

“Ivy Baldwin.”

“Hannah Reid.”

“Wait–” Pete cut Hannah off, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Reid? I have you on here as ‘Beid.’”

“Yeah, um, about that… there might have been a typo on my application, something to do with my terrible handwriting.” The rest of us laughed at that, including Pete.

“Well… I think you should be fine here. Will, take your seat between Hannah and Ivy, and we can get started on our other activities.” Half an hour went by, and we’d all kind of drifted away from the initial Orientation outline that Pete had been working off of. I was kind of glad that this was the case; if I had to tell one more person about my favorite food, I was gonna riot. Beside me, I felt Ivy nudge my arm with her elbow.

“So. This is gonna be a fucking blast,” she muttered.

“Tell me about it,” I replied.

“What’s your major?”

“Painting,” I said, “You?”

“Ceramics.”

“Woah, really? That’s so cool!”

“Thanks,” she grinned. I felt Hannah lightly tap my shoulder with her fingertips, and I turned my head to give her my attention. It hit me that I hadn’t been to a social function since that last high school party the Party and I went to; I wasn’t used to this amount of attention.

“I can’t help but notice your guitar pin on your backpack,” Hannah gestured downward, where my black Jansport backpack sagged onto my shins. “Do you play?”

No. The pin was Mike’s. I might have stolen it from him.

“My… my friend does,” I hesitated, trying my best not to outwardly cringe at myself. Mike was not my friend. Mike ruined my fucking life. He wrote twenty-six letters to me, confessed his undying love for me out loud, kissed me with an urgency that haunts me every night, and then expected me to just– “I don’t play any instruments. I wish I did. But I love to listen to rock music.”

“What are your favorite bands?” Ivy asked me, and I hummed in contemplation. I leaned back in my chair, wrapping my feet around the front legs for gravitational support. That way, I could see the both of them without getting whiplash.

“The Cure, Pink Floyd, The Smiths, the Beatles… I also like Bowie and Elton John.”

“Look at you! Hannah, this is my kinda guy!” Ivy exclaimed, smacking my shoulder so hard that I almost fell backwards onto the floor. Hannah saved me, though, pulling me upright again. 

“Let’s not scare him off, now,” Hannah laughed uneasily, and I shook my head.

“No, you’re not gonna scare me off. This is kind of… nice, actually,” I admitted, folding my hands together in my lap. “Would you guys wanna hang after this snooze fest is over?”

“I’m so down,” Ivy replied instantly, and Hannah agreed not even a second later.

Maybe making new friends wouldn’t be as difficult as I’d imagined.

We ordered a pizza and, in the meantime, headed up to my dorm. I unlocked the door and braced myself for Aaron’s usual disdain, but was pleasantly surprised when my roommate was nowhere to be found. I exhaled, and headed inside, holding the door open for the two girls. Hannah immediately gravitated toward my desk, where my set of dice rested atop the little purple pouch they came in.

“Oh my God, you play D&D?” she gasped.

I nodded, taking a few steps in her direction. “Yeah, I used to play more often with my friends back home. But… I kind of stopped a few years ago. They all lost interest.” ... ‘Lost interest’ was a fucking understatement.

“Well that’s depressing,” Hannah slumped down onto my comforter, haphazardly splaying her arms out on either side. “Tell you what, though,” she lifted her head to look at me, “My roommate, Kate just so happens to be the the DM of our school’s D&D Club, and she was telling me that they’re gonna be at the activities fair next week. Maybe we can check it out!” 

Wait a minute… I knew that name. “By any chance was Kate at–”

“The A-E sign in table at Orientation? Yup, that’s her!” she grinned. “She’s a junior. They paired all the freshmen with upperclassmen this year for some reason. Something about mentorship? I dunno,” she sat up and shifted her gaze to Aaron’s side of the room. “Who’s your roommate? He has…” she squinted, reading the titles of the books on his desk before widening her eyes in shock. “He has an interesting taste in literature.”

I could only nod. Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but notice Ivy’s fixation on something on my desk. Maybe she was just admiring the dice, or checking out my pile of books. But as I moved closer, I realized that she was staring at none other than the picture frame. The one and only picture frame I owned. The one and only picture frame I owned that just so happened to hold that one photo of– “Who’s this attractive string bean?”– Mike.

“Oh, he’s just a friend,” I said, and Ivy shot a suspicious look in my direction.

“Looks like you two were close,” she smirked up at me. “Really close.” 

“Were. Past tense,” I repeated back to her firmly. I really didn’t want to dredge up my turbulent… whatever-ship with Mike Wheeler right now. I just wanted to focus on the Here and Now of it all.

“So, Will, are you dating anyone?” Hannah asked, changing the subject. And for that, I would be eternally grateful. Because even from hundreds of miles away, Mike Wheeler still managed to stress me out.

“No, my love life is kind of dead at the moment,” I shrugged, and Hannah’s eyes lit up.

“Maybe we can find you a cute girl!”

Woah. I hadn’t been expecting to have to come out so soon, but… there’s a time and a place for everything, and apparently, this was both the time and place, no matter how apprehensive I felt about it.

“Um, about that…” I began, but was cut off by the sound of Ivy’s palm smacking the surface of my desk.

“What did I tell you?!” she exclaimed, her wild eyes meeting Hannah’s. “I called it. I. Fucking. Called. It.” I was so confused.

“Huh? Called what?” 

“You’re gay, right? You’re into guys?” Ivy asked, and I nodded hesitantly.

“See?!” she screeched suddenly. “I’ve got lesbian intuition!” 

“Guess I don’t have to formally come out, then,” I chuckled.

“I’m so sorry about her,” Hannah placed a hand on my shoulder, and I shook my head. I took her hand in mine, lowering our connected hands off my shoulder and swinging them back and forth between us.

“No, it’s okay, it made things easier for me, I guess. I’m kind of glad I didn’t have to prepare a dramatic speech or anything.”

“Yeah, God, that’s always a pain,” Ivy added. “It’s so stressful running the risk of ruining a friendship or relationship just by being yourself.”

I knew that experience all too well. “Yes, it’s horrible.” 

“I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends, William Byers,” Ivy smiled, taking both mine and Hannah’s free hands so we formed a triangle. “Best friends, even.”

My first class was Painting I with Dr. Miriam Horovitz, located clear on the other side of campus. I knew from the get go that it would take a while for me to figure out where the hell I was going, so I left an hour early, just in case something like this happened. And it did. So when I finally sat on a worn-down stool in front of an empty easel, it felt all the more surreal. I’d made it. To class. But also… I’d made it to art school in Chicago.

Dr. Horovitz was a short, middle-aged southern lady who had the combined fashion sense of a Flower Power protestor and a gothic, medieval witch. Mike would have loved– no. No. Not now. I needed to focus, specifically on the assignment Dr. Horov– Miriam, as she insisted upon us calling her– was explaining.

“So for your first assignment, I want y’all to paint something that brings you joy, but also inflicts immense pain. It could be a feeling, a person, a material object… it’s up to y’all where you want to take your projects. I’m just tryin’ to figure out everyone’s specific styles.”

If I were given this assignment a year prior, I would have done something related to the Upside Down. But now, as I closed my eyes, my thoughts went awry. Vines, snakes, fire… Mike. Vecna, gouged out eyes, mold… Mike. The rain fight. The Almost Kiss. The neverending flirtation. Prom. The letters. No, Will, I’m in love with you. Don’t say that, please don’t say that, you don’t mean it. Mike’s sobs echoing up the stairwell on my way out.

Well… looks like Mike is gonna be the subject of my first ever project in art school, I thought, rubbing a hand down my face with a groan. Fuck me.

I glanced at myself in the mirror, which I currently stood in front of, shirtless. I’d been insecure about my body for years. I had always been more on the skinny side, but then I got tall and skinny, my knees turned into knobs, and my voice dropped— but I kept my baby face. I was a walking contradiction. It didn’t help that my clothes just made me look worse. They were more often than not hand-me-downs from Jonathan, or purchased for a buck each at the thrift store. When I was younger, I would secretly resent my mom for not being able to afford newer, more flattering clothing. Then, I learned about the concepts of money and divorce, and that resentment never once entered my mind after that. I could never blame my mom for our circumstances, and would never dream of holding our poverty against her, but still. It was embarrassing. Especially when most of my other friends walked around looking like they’d come fresh out of the Starcourt Mall. Thankfully, when I’d moved to California, my shoulders had filled out a little bit, and I could wear most of those clothes without cringing anymore. And after the events of the Upside Down, I spent some of my government hush money on a new wardrobe.

Even then, despite the broader shoulders, newer wardrobe, and a few years’ time, there still wasn’t really much to see, physically speaking; I looked less like a young man, and more like a boy with unbalanced muscle mass and light, barely-there stubble on my jaw. To be fair, I was only five months into being eighteen, and had plenty of time for my body to mature. Working out would probably help quicken the process.

“Alright, man, you ready to go?” Aaron came out of the bathroom rather abruptly, startling me out of my thoughts. Aaron’s eyes lowered down to my torso, lingering for a few extra seconds before he said, “I’m glad you decided to come with. You definitely need it,” with a light chuckle. I felt my face burning up with self consciousness as I scrambled to my dresser, throwing on the first shirt I could get my hands on: a plain white Fruit of the Loom tee, the kind that came in a multipack. It was a bit loose on me; my mom had been a bit optimistic when she’d talked me into buying the mediums. 

I could have easily turned down Aaron’s offer to go to the gym with him. Aaron’s new membership included a promotional perk which gave him the option to invite a second person for free. In turn, once the person paying for the membership had built up enough points, they could redeem said points for a private training session. Aaron, a cup that apparently overfloweth with boundless generosity, offered that guest spot up to me. Because I was poor. And skinny. And I liked Elton John. That was, like, the trifecta of male incompetence. I often thought about why Aaron insisted upon coming to the American Academy of Art if he hated gay people so much. I assumed that in order to get on Aaron’s “good” side– whatever the hell that even meant, if it even existed–, I would simply have to play the role of a straight guy, which was what I had been doing for my entire life up until a few months ago, so it wouldn’t be difficult to do.

I hastily laced my black high top Vans up, tying them a bit too tightly, but I was too intimidated by my roommate’s eyes drilling lasers into my scalp to care. I grabbed my empty drawstring bag, because what do you even bring to a gym, tossed my wallet and keys into it, and followed Aaron out the door. We headed down the hall and descended the stairwell, and I watched as his calf muscles flexed with every step.

“So. How’re you liking the school so far?” he called back to me, and I got confused for a second, because, was he talking to me? “Any interesting classes this semester?” Oh. Okay, so I wasn’t just hearing things.

“Uh… it’s good,” I replied, quickening my steps to catch up to him, “I really like my painting class. The campus is just kind of confusing to navigate.”

Aaron chuckled at that, holding the door open for me once we reached the dorm hall entryway. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I must have gotten lost seven or eight times in my first year.”

“Oh, you’re a–”

“Junior. Architecture major.”

Huh. I’d kind of forgotten about the Junior-Freshman pairing system. And it made a lot of sense why he had decided to pursue architecture. It’s the straightest art form there is. We approached the student parking garage, and Aaron fished in his pocket for his keys.

“Oh, nice,” I said, “what made you choose to go here?”

“They have the best architecture program in the state,” he shrugged. “I’m really into postmodern stuff as well, and most schools don’t really teach that. But they do here.”

When we got into his car, I had to hold myself back from rolling my eyes into the darkest depths of my skull, because of course it was a Mercedes. Aaron checked his reflection in the rearview mirror before reaching an arm behind my seat, leaning back and looking behind him as he backed out of the parking spot. I was shocked; Aaron seemed to despise being within two feet of me, and now he had almost come into contact with my shoulder. Were we… making progress? “By the way,” Aaron said once he’d changed gears, “I’m sorry for being such a dick. I think I misjudged you.”

See, now, my kneejerk reaction had always been to cut the person who was apologizing off with a lighthearted, reassuring, “No, it’s okay.” I always felt the need to absolve people of their guilt, but now, that need was seemingly gone, because I let him continue with his apology without interjecting once. And it felt nice to not take on someone else’s burden.

“I just can’t stand all these fucking homos around here, I thought I was stuck living with one.” If he hated homos so much, then what the hell was he doing at the American Academy of Art? What was he expecting? If you hate gay people, don’t go to an exclusive art school. You’re basically asking for your own personal torture chamber, I thought.  But I kept my thoughts to myself, opting to sit there in silence for the rest of the ride. The drama simply wasn’t worth it.

We arrived at the gym, and Aaron headed straight over to the treadmills. “Cardio,” he explained, and I went along with it, because if it weren’t for him, I would have no clue where to begin. We ran a mile and a half before switching gears and moving to the dumbbells. Aaron handed me a pair of 2-pounders, just to fuck with me, but then actually taught me how to lift the 5-pounders properly, without tearing muscle. We then moved over to the larger sets of weights, which Aaron loaded onto a bar and taught me how to do a proper barbell hip thrust, which I found to be a strange first exercise to teach someone. I had no idea so much effort went into the form and technique. But I found myself strangely loving it. I’d have to find time to go on my own time, so I didn’t feel so pressured as I did around Aaron.

I felt like I was dying as we stood beside the water fountain. I raised my cheap AAoA water bottle to my lips and chugged the lukewarm water as quickly as the dumbass mouthpiece would allow me, which was not much. I messed with it for a few seconds before Aaron grunted out, “Congrats on the new girlfriend, by the way.” I was so glad I hadn’t unscrewed the top yet, because I damn near dropped the bottle out of pure shock.

“I’m sorry, what?” I spluttered, and Aaron merely clapped my back with a laugh. “Don’t be shy, Byers, you’re dating Hannah fucking Reid! Own that shit!” Oh, I was going to kill her. I knew she meant well, but… really?

As soon as we got back onto campus, I sprinted to the girls’ dorms and up the stairs to Hannah’s room. I knocked, but could hear really loud music playing… was that Zeppelin IV? We’d gotten to that point in our friendship where Hannah, Ivy, and I would barge into each others’ rooms unannounced, but I apparently never got the memo that anything had changed. 

“Wanna tell me why Aaron goddamn Heathrow thinks we’re–” I started, but cut myself off at the sight in front of me. Ivy and Hannah pulled away from each other– no, excuse me, Ivy moved from where she’d been straddling a borderline naked Hannah on her bed. I turned away, shielding my eyes with a screech. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I should have knocked louder– You guys are together?!”

And then it made so much more sense. If Hannah and I were “dating,” at face value, then she’d be able to be with Ivy. And– in their words, not mine– I’d be able to find a “sexy hunk” of my own someday soon. As much as we all hated the idea of a “beard,” arrangement, it was the best possible way for all of us to love who we wanted to love. That conversation ended with happy tears, hugs, and hope.

My sketch of Mike was coming together nicely. I’d been meticulously planning it out for the past week on smaller sheets of paper, and had finally transferred it to a giant canvas. I shifted my hand from side to side across the canvas to darken and further emphasize Mike’s prominent jawline. It was insane how drastic and how quickly that transformation had happened; it was so hard to believe now that Mike had ever been bullied for his looks. If only our bullies could see what Frog Face looked like now. I was convinced that if someone were to put a piece of glass within three inches of Mike’s insanely sharp bone structure, the glass would split in two. I smirked at the thought and glanced down at my pencils, which I’d lined up neatly on my right hand side in order of lightest to darkest. I was about to decide which one to use for shading his cheekbones when I heard a familiar, strong Southern drawl from behind me.

“And who is this handsome young fella?” Dr. Horovitz asked me, and I felt my body deflate a little bit. She wasn’t wrong. Mike’s attractiveness was undeniable. Using Mike as my muse for the past thirteen years definitely helped in portraying his beauty. Even then, I didn’t want to entertain that idea any longer than I had to, so I downplayed it.

“Oh, just this guy from back home,” I said, refusing to meet her eyes, which I just knew were overflowing with curiosity, given the silence that followed. “He’s not important now,” I added, just to make a point. And that was the truth. He wasn’t important. He wasn’t… as important. Not as important as how I’d made him out to be throughout my childhood, sitting high on a pedestal. Dear Will, when I look into your eyes, I see the rest of my–

“I notice there’s a bite to the way you talk about him,” my professor noted, and I turned to try and meet her gaze, but she was observing my work thus far. “If he isn’t important now, as you say, he must have been important in the past.”

Who even was this lady? She was the professor of my painting class, yet she was reading me like a therapist would. And I knew by the slight insistence laced in her voice and the way she’d parked herself next to my station that she wasn’t going away until she’d gotten some answers.

“He and I didn’t leave things on the best terms when we left for school,” I admitted, and Dr. Horovitz nodded, processing. I turned away to take a sip from my water bottle as she spoke.

“Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. So he’s an ex boyfriend, then?” 

I nearly spit out my water. “God, no,” I said, feeling heat rise to my face at lightning speed. “He… uh, he’s– he was my best friend. Mike.” 

“Mm. Best Friend Mike,” she crossed her arms in thought. Suddenly, her eyes snapped over to mine, the eye contact sending chills down my spine. I worried about what she would try to pry out of me next. “He broke your heart, didn’t he?”

Well, shit. She’d been able to see right through me. Maybe I wasn’t as good of a liar as I thought I was. So much for being vague.

“Yeah,” I confessed slowly, watching a smile spread across my professor’s face. Sadist! “Yeah, he did break my heart. And he really messed with my head. But even now, I still believe he’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Well, you’ve covered the topic of the assignment quite well,” she told me, taking a step backwards. “I’m looking forward to seeing your progress.” 

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Will, I told all of you on the first day of class, call me Miriam. None of that old lady business.” 

“Sorry, Miriam.” 

“You’re forgiven.”

I watched Miriam walk away and begin talking to one of the other students in my class about their piece, and I tried to focus back on my work. But Miriam had gotten me thinking. She had gotten me thinking about one specific day. The day where Mike finally confronted me about the painting.

“Hey, can we talk about something for a second?” Mike asked from across his basement couch. I set my pencil and sketchbook down. He had insisted upon being a model for my potential college portfolio. I didn’t even know if I’d be going to art school at all, but he was so sure that I’d get in somewhere “really fuckin’ cool.” Mike shifted his body out of the position he’d been in for the past hour, and I heard his joints crack as he stretched his long legs out onto my lap. Don’t get a boner, Byers, I thought to myself, repeating it like a mantra in my head.

“Sure,” I croaked out, my voice rough from lack of use. “Uh, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, “I was talking with El yesterday, and I mentioned the commission she’d given you for the painting.” Oh shit. “You know, the one from Spring Break.”

I gulped. “Yeah?”

“It’s kind of funny, actually,” Mike continued, “because El said she had no idea what the word ‘commission’ even meant. Do you know anything about that?”

“I’m not following,” I blurted out in a sad attempt to preserve my own feelings, but Mike knew that I’d never been capable of keeping secrets from him. 

“Come on, Will. I know you know what I mean.” He gave me a pointed look and pulled his legs in before scooching closer to my side of the couch, crossing his legs. Our knees touched, and I felt like I was on fire.

I knew then that I’d been caught red-handed. “I was trying to–”

“What, lie to me?” Mike cut me off as he stared down at the carpeted floor. “I thought we didn’t do that.”

“I told you what you needed to hear,” I said, and Mike crossed his arms.

“Yeah, so you lied.”

“I didn’t want to lie, Mike!”

“But you did, Will, and that’s–”

“Just listen, alright?!” I raised my voice, startling Mike into silence. I hated doing that, but it was the only way he’d listen to what I had to say. “Hear me out, okay?” Mike’s lips formed a straight, thin line as he nodded. “I just… I thought if the painting came from El, you’d feel needed again. Like, you told me you felt worthless to her, so I did what I could to try and… fix… that.” Suddenly, Mike’s face was inches from my own, and I could barely breathe. It was probably just my imagination, but I could have sworn I saw Mike’s eyes flicker down to my lips, then back up to meet mine again.

“You know,” Mike breathed, blinking slowly, “It would have meant a lot more if you’d admitted that the painting was from you.”

“Oh,” was the only word I was able to get out.

“Yeah,” Mike said, voice smooth as velvet, “You’re my person, Will.”

“Hey, Will! We– woah.” I hadn’t noticed I’d spaced out until Ivy’s voice hit my ears. I turned to see both her and Hannah gaping at my work.

“Oh! Hey!” I smiled, trying to keep the tone light, “I wasn’t expecting you guys to be–”

“Is that the guy from that photo in your room?” Hannah asked.

“Well… yes,” I admitted, “but he’s not–” 

“Bullshit,” Ivy interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit to everything you’ve said and are about to say. You’re going to tell us about this boy.”

“Fine. Can I at least wash the paint off my hands first?”

Our D&D Club had a bi-weekly movie night, where we would all go to Kate’s house in our pajamas and eat enough snacks to feed a small army. Both Kate’s and my favorite candy was Reese’s Pieces, so there was always an overabundance of them in her pantry. I shoved my hand into a bag I had rested between my legs, throwing a handful back as if they were a shot of hard liquor. The credits of CLUE were rolling, and Kate spun around from where she sat on the floor wrapped in a giant quilt. She clapped loudly to get our full, undivided attention.

“Okay, so. What are we thinking for Halloween?”

Crickets.

“We need a group costume for the party in two weeks, obviously!” Kate exclaimed, as if this were supposed to be common knowledge. I didn’t think Halloween was a thing anymore. It certainly wasn’t a thing when I was still in Hawkins. “We need one that fits a group of five.”

“We should all be Ghostbusters!” Pete said, but Ivy immediately shot that idea down.

“Too clunky. Plus, the proton packs are gonna be a bitch to make, not to mention difficult to lug around everywhere.”

“She’s right,” I found myself saying, and felt all of my friends’ eyes on me, expecting me to explain myself.

“You’ve dressed as a Ghostbuster before?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, “Back in middle school. My friends and I made proton packs out of vacuum tubes attached to these huge plastic boxes with straps.”

“That’s badass!”

“Well, yeah,” Kate shrugged nonchalantly, “But that also cancels out that option, since Will has done it already.”

“If we take into account every costume everyone has ever done, then there will be no options left,” Pete pointed out, and Kate grimaced.

“That’s fair.”

“What if we did Marvel characters?” Hannah asked, and I shook my head.

“That would put us in the same situation as the Ghostbusters, it’s too complex.”

“Hey, guys.”

“Fine, well, what if we did the Beatles?”

“There are four Beatles, Pete.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Guys.”

“What about Yoko?”

“Please don’t tell me you just suggested Yoko is the fifth Beatle, Pete.”

“Is she not???”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”

“Mötley Crüe?”

“The Runaways,” Pete grinned. “Will and I could go in drag, it’d be so hot.”

Hannah’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why are we suddenly so focused on bands?”

“I don’t know, do you have any doable ideas?” Pete retorted.

“Hey assholes!” Kate snapped.

“What?!” we all shouted back.

“We should be the Mystery Gang.”

“As in Scooby Doo?” I thought out loud.

“That’s a really good idea, actually,” Pete nodded slowly. “It’s classic, people will know who we are, and they won’t perceive us as total rejects!”

“I want to be Velma,” Ivy announced.

“That makes one of us,” Hannah snorted.

“Hey! I’d be a hot Velma!”

“I won’t deny that.”

“I guess I’ll be Fred,” Pete said.

“Will has got to be Shaggy,” Kate giggled, reaching her arm out far enough to run her fingers through and mess up my hair. “I mean, his hair is perfect for it.”

“Yes, oh my God–”

“He’d be the buffest Shaggy I’ve ever seen,” Ivy said, and I whipped my head in her direction.

“Buff? What do you mean, buff?”

“Will, have you seen yourself lately?” Hannah gawked. I had no idea what she meant.

“I mean, yeah, I go to the gym pretty frequently, but like, it’s not like I’ve changed that much…”

“Will, honey,” Ivy sauntered over to where I sat, and crouched down until we were eye level. “We all know that I only have eyes for women, and even I can admit that you are smoking hot.”

“I concur,” Pete said.

“Seriously,” Kate exclaimed, “why hasn’t Will linked up with anyone yet?”

“Okay,” I tried to kill the tangent before it grew legs and ran away, “let’s not discuss my nonexistent love life–”

“Um, excuse me– it did, in fact, exist,” Hannah quipped back. “You just prioritized yourself over someone who treated you like shit.”

“Amen to that,” Ivy said, and everyone else laughed in agreement.

“So I’m gonna ask again: why hasn’t Buff Byers found himself a man yet?”

“Buff Byers,” Pete snorted, “that’s fucking brilliant.”

I put my face in my hands. “Jesus Christ.”

“Let’s be a little more realistic, because I’m pretty sure Jesus wasn’t into guys,” Hannah said, earning a sad laugh from me.

“Are you sure about that?” Ivy questioned her girlfriend, “Because his suspiciously close bond with twelve men shows us otherwise–”

“This is not the time to delve into biblical theology, baby.”

“He let Judas kiss his cheek! You cannot tell me he wasn’t at least a little bit gay.”

Okay, that was enough. “Guys, really,” I insisted, “I’m fine. I don’t need to date anyone right now.”

Pete quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t need to? Or you don’t want to?”

“Alright, everyone,” Kate called out to the rest of us, “so we’ve established that we’re going to this party as the Scooby Gang. But I have a plan in mind that’ll make this Halloween a night to remember.”

“Which is?” I asked warily. Kate couldn’t hide her devilish grin.

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man.”

I was sure that going to this off-campus Halloween party wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. It wasn’t solely my idea, per se; we had decided upon our group costume weeks ago, and I was fully aware of the environment I was voluntarily entering, so I had plenty of time to back out if I wanted to. Even then, I didn’t back out, because I was obviously a new man; outgoing, social, and bold. I no longer allowed my crippling anxiety to interfere with my life. The latter statement would probably be a bit difficult to justify, though, considering the fact that I had soaked through my fluorescent, vomit-green tee shirt with sweat the second I’d walked through the door. It also didn’t help that my friends were still dead set on a singular mission for the evening: Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. This was a bad idea. A really, really bad–

“Ooh, I spy with my little eye… Jose Cuervo! Come on!” Ivy exclaimed, the corners of her eyes crinkling with joy underneath her fake glasses as she grinned up at me. Oh God, here we go, I thought as I followed my friend over to the center island in the kitchen. Every square inch of counter space was occupied by some form of hard liquor. This was not my first rodeo; I’d gone to a handful of parties back in high school. I enjoyed the atmosphere, but I just wasn’t a party animal, for the lack of a better term.

“Alrighty, one for you… and two for me,” Ivy muttered as she poured her favorite vice, Jose Cuervo tequila, into three disposable red Solo-brand shot cups before handing one over to me, and I took the cup hesitantly. She then grabbed two lime wedges out of a bowl on the kitchen counter, and located a salt shaker a few seconds later. She turned to me, grabbed my free hand, rubbed the lime on it, shook some salt over the spot so it would stick, then did the same for herself. She held one of her shot cups up to mine, clinking them together as a toast.

“Fuck Mike Wheeler!” she shrieked, and I burst out laughing. While I calmed myself down, Ivy licked the salt off her hand, threw the shot back like it was water, chomped down onto the lime, and cringed at the taste. Once she’d opened her eyes and seen that I hadn’t done his shot with her, she pouted up at me.

“You’re supposed to actually do the shot, not just stand there,” she whined. I looked down at the shot, squinting at it before lifting it up, bringing it to my lips. Before I could properly throw the shot back on my own, Ivy tilted the bottom of the cup further upwards, and I felt the tequila rush down my throat much faster than anticipated. “That’s how you do a shot, Billiam,” she told me as I sputtered out a cough, followed by an indignant grunt. I wasn’t mad; I probably wouldn’t have done it without her involvement.

“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been so incredibly selfless. You’d do anything to make people happy. But sometimes you do it at your own expense.” Not the time, Mike.

Ivy and I had stayed a few hours late in Miriam’s classroom to finish up our pieces, so we’d all agreed to just meet at the party. When I had set my brush down for the last time earlier that afternoon, I thought to myself, “Hey, I’ve finally achieved the closure I’ve always wanted, so I should feel better.” But I didn’t feel any different; if anything, I felt even worse than before. The Heart gave me closure, but I still felt like Mike was there. So when I arrived back at my dorm to change into my costume, I glanced at the bunched-up blue sweatshirt on my bed and made a decision: It was time to pack up the Mike Box again. I put everything (the dice, the frame, the sweatshirt, and the binder) back into a box and under my bed. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Shaggy! Velma! You made it!” voices exclaimed from behind me. Hannah, Kate, and Pete approached us, dressed as Daphne, Scooby, and Fred, respectively. A smile quickly made its way across my face as I collided with my friends in a group hug. Once they all pulled back, the gossip was instantly afoot.

“So, any luck yet?” Ivy asked her girlfriend, who shook her head.

“Not yet, we just got here a little while ago.”

“I’ve seen a few potential candidates who I think he’d get along with–” Kate began, but Pete interrupted with an expression of pure confusion.

“Sorry, what’s going on?”

“Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man! Come on, Pete, get with the program!” Kate clapped her hands in the middle of the circle, and the rest of them laughed while I rolled my eyes. They were being absolutely ridiculous. I didn’t need to get any man, let alone a fine-ass one. I was perfectly fine with being alone. Totally content, and not at all depressed.

The song that had been playing faded out, and a familiar bouncy synth introduction to the next song vibrated up from the floor and sent shockwaves through my entire nervous system. Kate demanded immediately that the group should dance, and the rest of the Scooby Gang agreed, save for me. I didn’t do well on dance floors, because my claustrophobia often got the best of me. So I stood against the wall, watching as my friends disappeared into the crowd. The beat picked up, and I sighed deeply, crossing my arms over my chest. This was the radio cut. If Mike were there, he probably would have complained for hours afterwards.

“Will. I’m being serious! If you know about the existence of the 12” version of Smalltown Boy and still opt to listen to the radio cut, you’re committing a crime against both me and Bronski Beat. I said what I said. No further questions.”

I hated that I couldn’t tell Mike how, for once, I actually agreed with him. He wasn’t here with me, and it was all my fault.

I checked my watch– 8:26pm. We’d only been there for less than half an hour, and I already wanted to go home. There were enough people packed in the house for it to be considered a fire hazard, and my friends were nowhere to be found. So much for Operation Get Will a Fine-Ass Man. Besides, I was dressed as Shaggy from fucking Scooby Doo, there was no way any guy would want me while looking like a disheveled cartoon character. I decided to go outside to get some fresh air, and maybe smoke a cigarette… or five, but right when I began to move, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Kate and Ivy, standing on either side of a guy with spiky black hair and chunky black liner under his eyes. The only defining elements of his vampire costume were the fake blood dripping from the corners of his painted red lips and the cape draped over his shoulders.

“Will, Matt. Matt, Will. Speak,” Ivy rushed out, pushing us together by our backs. I watched, stunned, as my friends pushed their way through the crowd, giggling the entire time. I then shifted my gaze to meet eyes with… the very hot guy who stood before me.

Matt.

-

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[newtabfics]

Returned: Rauru x Fem!Reader NSFT Series. Part 3

Summary: Rauru is somehow revived in modern Hyrule and his instincts have gone insane as he realizes he's lost his mate.

Triggers for mild dubcon elements as well as just nsft stuff.

Part 1

Y/N’s eyes snapped open as she looked up at the roof of her tent. The ache in her body told her all she needed as she heard movement outside of it. Peeking out, she could see the Zonai man tending to the fire, seeming lost in thought. His back was to her and she took a moment to study him.

Slipping out, she winced when her body stiffened. Her sudden tension must’ve made some noise considering his ear flicked up and he looked to her as she hobbled towards the campfire, blinking when she saw there were a few basses being roasted on sticks.

Her body was only wrapped in the blanket she’d curled into happily when he’d tucked her in. He wasn’t sure how easily he could’ve dressed her so he settled for tending to the bite and cleaning her up, having to restrain himself from simply using his tongue to do it himself.

The Zonai swallowed thickly. “I uh, thought you might be hungry.”

“Yeah. Sex does work up an appetite.”

The Zonai let out a laugh, startling her as he quickly looked away to cough. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…hah.” He cleared his throat and grabbed one of the sticks. “Here.”

She moved carefully, mindful of her ache and her decency. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly ladylike as her friends would scold her to sit next to a strange humanoid creature in nothing but a blanket after he’d railed her to Hylia and back.

“How do you feel?” He tried awkwardly.

“Sore.” Y/N carefully took it and checked the fish. Once she’d determined it’d been cooked through, she began to eat at it. The throb in her shoulder made her look at it, getting his attention as he sheepishly watched her take in the sight of the bandages.

“I found them in your bag,” He clarified at the confused look on her face.

“You didn’t need to.”

“I did that to you. It’s the least I could do.”

“Fair enough. So, do Zonai have mates then?” Y/N asked outright before biting into the juicy meat.

The man balked at her brazenness and took a moment to consider her words. He wasn’t sure how to explain this to her but she seemed intelligent enough and was taking it surprisingly in stride.

“Yes. We’re…much more animalistic than people realize,” He confessed, scratching his neck as he passed her the second fish when she finished the first. “Here.”

“Thanks. I kinda figured but I mean, to be fair, I’ve only got ancient writings and statues to go off of. Now that the Demon King’s been beaten, it’s easier to explore the castle. So I can check out the statues but I mean still.”

He blinked at that and hummed. “Demon King…so he was successful then,” He sighed in relief.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything is a bit of a blur. This rut is making it worse. To put it into perspective, I had a mate. The Demon King killed her.”

She straightened, wiping her mouth as she said, “I’m so sorry,” realizing it might’ve been the Sonia he cried out when he was buried inside her. Her thighs clenched at the memory. “Well, the hero ended up killing the bastard.” She tossed the stick into the flames. “It’s been a couple of months so everyone’s still trying to settle.”

He hummed, watching the stick he cooked her fish on. The flames licked at it as if trying to grab whatever essence it could of her and destroy it, never to be touched again.

“Her name was Sonia?”

“Yes,” He sighed, the stick snapping in the flames. Sparks flew up into the sky, little red embers against the black night sky. A light flickered over the clouds as his nose twitched. “Rain.”

Within a moment, it had begun to pour. The Zonai had grabbed her and pulled her into the tent as thunder rumbled overhead. She blinked as she sat now in the tent, mourning the warm fire as the rain snuffed it out. His arm was still around her as they both watched the rain.

With a sigh, she adjusted the tent flaps, tying them off so they could comfortably watch the rain in her pallet. She blinked as she watched his big form trying to settle comfortably and sighed, moving to sit between his legs.

He stiffened, arms up as if he were ready to catch or shield her from danger, whichever he needed to. He waited until she settled, even leaning back against him. It surprised him to say the least. Sonia wasn’t so quick to accept the bond, yet this random Hylian who smelled so much like her…

“So what’s the last thing you remember?” She asked curiously.

He hummed in thought and closed his eyes. “I had sacrificed myself,” He confessed as the storm rumbled overhead. “I sealed him away, if only to buy everyone some time.”

She blinked at that. “Is your name Rauru then?”

His face flushed under his fur as he looked away. “I hadn’t even introduced myself?” He asked himself under his breath, making her chuckle. “I am, yes. How…?”

“King Rauru and Queen Sonia. To give an idea, we’re in the era after the Great Calamity. Actually, I guess I could say the era after The Upheaval, now.”

“Upheaval? Calamity?”

Y/N smiled and patted his leg, noting him stiffening at the contact. She let her hand linger for a moment. “You’ve got a lot to catch up on, your highness,” She noted before turning to face him. Kneeling between his open legs, she watched him hold his breath in response to her. His eyes were darkening the longer she waited. “Is it happening again? Your rut?”

“Ah, rut isn’t just a wave and done,” He admitted, hands sliding up her thighs carefully. “It can last a long while.”

“Hopefully it stops long enough to at least get you to Hateno.”

“Hateno?”

“Later,” She said as she ground down against him. “I think we should take care of that monster.” He smirked. “Ruining me for any other man.”

“That’s the point,” He groaned as he buried his face into her neck. “You never told me who you were.”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” He whispered as if branding her name into his entire being. He wondered how many ages she had waited for him, seeking out poor excuses of a male to try and find him, unaware that he was long gone from this world.

Though he did suppose this was in the past as she pulled away to shed his clothing to stroke him slowly. He bit his lip, forcing himself to still as she licked along his length slowly. 

He whispered her name again as she took him into her mouth, feeling the way her mouth seemed to vibrate as she hummed happily. He pulled the blanket off her body as he moved into a kneeling position. He had to duck his head so as not to bring the whole tent and the rain onto them. His hand pressed against the back of her head and pushed gently.

Y/N almost wanted to tease him, call him cute for how needy was. Almost. She had to show mercy as she swallowed him down eagerly. Her throat would only allow him so far though as she closed her eyes tight, forcing her breath to slow to stop her reflex. Her hand reached up, stroking slowly as she bobbed her head carefully.

Rauru groaned lowly, trying his best to stay still but couldn’t stop himself from gently moving his hips forward, desperately trying to bury himself deeper.

“Fuck, Y/N. No. It isn’t enough. I need you,” He groaned, his lip curling up into a snarl when her hand gripped his hip to stop him from pulling out. He shuddered at the sight of her looking up at him with watery eyes as her lips stretched around him. He watched her as her tongue ran along his underside. “I’ll…hurt you, if I don’t,” He grunted out before growling in warning.

Y/N whined as she pulled off him with a wet pop. She yelped when he quickly moved her onto her back, pressing his lips to her forehead as he took hold of her before pushing in slowly.

Her moan was an angelic choir in his ears as he slowly pushed himself into her before settling deep. He watched her face, watched the way it twisted as she whimpered out in pleasure. Her eyes flickered down between them, watching how he stretched her out.

His smirk made him pull back and slam into her, making her cry out in pleasure as he locked her head in place. “Watch it,” He commanded, pushing himself deeper into her.

Oh how she watched. Oh how Y/N watched as his shaft began to slick with her juices and throb against her. How it drove into her core so deep she could swear she saw it poke out her stomach. How it made her clench and grunt out like an animal herself. It was almost too much.

“Ra-Rauru! Fuck yes,” She moaned happily, cheeks flushing as she rocked against him.

He groaned, releasing her head to adjust and pull her hips into his lap. His clawed hands gripped tightly as she writhed under him, looking up at him as she threw herself up. He fumbled a slight before gripping her tight against him, meeting the way her hips gyrated against him as she cradled his face to watch his expressions.

“Fuck,” He moaned lowly, moving faster as his claws scratched at her back.

Y/N moaned, doing her best to avoid the roof of the tent as she met each thrust eagerly. The feeling of her driving into her, reaching deeper than any man ever had and finding those sweet spots made her see stars. His hands holding her so possessively yet so protective, unlike the clumsy gropes at her breasts.

She gasped when his head ducked down, bending awkwardly to kiss and suck at her chest. Y/N could only bend back to accommodate him, whining loudly at the new angle as she clenched up tighter.

She stammered out a cry of his name as she began to tip over the edge, the Zonai driving himself faster into her.

Rauru relished in the feeling as her slicking him up, unable to stop himself from slamming her down his length as he began to fill her with his seed. He smirked at the way she moaned his name and whined loudly. His growling grunt sent a shudder through her body as her eyes fluttered.

Much more easily, he moved to lay her down, waiting for his senses to return to normal as he pulled out. He smirked as he watched her, their panting breaths slowing. Rauru’s mouth watered before he bent and kissed at every inch of her torso, nipping every so often at her shuddering flesh.

“Mate,” He rumbled softly. “My mate should rest.”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” She chuckled tiredly. “You might be…first king, but…we haven’t had a king in over a hundred years.”

He smirked, dragging his nails tauntingly against her. “You can still speak. You need more then. I haven’t bred you well enough.”

She hated how it made her shudder at the thought.

Part 4

[juniper-sunny]

The Art in the Heart - Chapter 11

The completion of the mural steers your relationship with Silco into a new direction…

Everybody Lives AU | Pre-Act 1 | Silco x Reader | Female!Reader | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff | Mild Angst || SFW | WC: 2.62k

ao3 || Masterlist || Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 3.5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 7.5 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @deny-the-issue @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @joscelyn02 @crunchlite @sheacrowley

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It’s hard to believe that you were ever afraid of Silco leaving you, when he’s on your bed right now, sitting close enough for you to touch him. The fabric of his shirt is soft against your cheek as you lean against his shoulder. You look up at him; he stares out your window, but he wraps an arm casually around you, pulling you in closer.

The worries you had earlier this morning seem so distant now. As if they belonged to another person… 

________________________________________

Silco and you had both continued doing chores at the orphanage, then enjoyed brunch in the cafeteria. Trying not to giggle when the children’s eyes grew wide as Silco walked past their tables. When you were about to admonish them for gawking, he reassured you that he didn’t mind. He even made funny faces back at Powder when she stared straight at him.

When you both finished eating, Teema had then insisted you both leave.

“Our girl here already works too much. Take her out and have some fun, won’t you?” the older woman had directed this question at Silco, failing miserably at giving him a surreptitious wink. 

“For once, I agree with Teema,” chuckled Cuny. The two of them had shooed you out the front doors. 

You had sheepishly apologized for their behavior again. He had said it was fine, and reiterated that he didn’t have any other plans for the day. Pointedly reminding you that he meant to stay by your side until your stalker was dealt with. So first, you both stopped by your studio, picking up the supplies you used to protect the mural from the weather. It was going to be another rainy night. 

On the roof of the mural, you had asked again, “Are you sure you don’t—”

“No, I do not have any other plans. Yes, I do intend to accompany you for as long as you’ll have me,” Silco had recited. “Please don’t ask me again.”

A crazy impulse seized you: to tell him that you’ll have him forever, until the end of your days. You had bitten your tongue hard then, punishing yourself for the outlandish thought. 

Then Silco had asked if he could introduce you to another friend of his named Benzo; his shop was in the heart of the Lanes, only a few streets away from The Last Drop. During your trek through the Undercity, Silco was vigilant about staying close to you, and once grabbed your hand when a group of strangers passed by too closely. He hadn’t let go until you arrived at your destination. 

Benzo was just as rough around the edges as Silco’s other compatriots, but warmed up to you quickly. When he lamented about a former employee who recently quit, you offered to ask around at the orphanage to see if anyone would be interested in taking the newly vacated position. The shopkeeper needed the help, and some of the older children at Janna’s Hearth were about to finish their education; they’d be looking for a job as long as it was safe and paid well, of course. Benzo was quick to promise you that any employee of his would be compensated fairly, especially if they were a friend of a friend of Silco’s. 

The rain started then, a weak drizzle tickling the shop’s windows. After some quick goodbyes, Silco had grabbed your hand again and rushed you out. You were breathless but laughing at the speed with which he pulled you along, as if he were trying to outrun ravenous flesh-eating mites and not some bad weather. He didn’t stop until reaching your Promenade apartment. 

By then the rain was coming down in sheets. It took much less effort this time to convince him to stay the night. After you each had showered separately, Silco had taken up residence on your bed. You curled up in your sleeping bag at first, intending to sleep early.

All things considered, the activities of the day hadn’t been that strenuous. It was the emotional exhaustion that was getting to you, though. The catharsis of telling Silco everything was greater than you anticipated, especially when he didn’t run away, as you feared. You could rest easy knowing that Silco was still your friend. 

The only unresolved issue was the interrupted moment at the orphanage. If Vi hadn’t come… had Silco wanted to kiss you? If so, then why? You’re not quite ready to believe his reassurances that you weren’t a bad person, but surely you’re not the only woman in his life right now? He had told you that he’s single, but has he had past lovers? What were they like?

These questions and many more had kept you tossing and turning restlessly, until finally, you had let out a quiet huff out of frustration.

“Is something the matter?” Silco had called out to you. 

“Can’t sleep,” you had groaned, getting up to look at him.

Silco seemed to have the same problem. He had been sitting with one knee up, back against the wall. He unfolded himself and patted the bed. You had climbed up and settled next to him, keeping a respectable distance at first, but Silco had automatically scooched closer to you.

Your first instinct was to pull away from him. Were you really deserving of his company? But maybe he would have taken it as an insult. 

So for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to savor the company of a friend, without any guilt or reservations. 

And now, he’s still here, his arm around your shoulder, turning to look at you with a kind smile, the rain-dappled moonlight resting against his cheek like a mother’s hand. 

You smile back at him, so overcome by gratitude and affection that tears start welling in your eyes again.

“Are you alright?” he asks. His smile falls from his face, replaced by wide eyes of concern. 

“I’m okay,” you whisper, pushing the heel of your palm into your eyes. “I’m just really happy that you’re here.” That’s the most honest way of putting it without lying about your feelings for him. 

Silco slowly, gently wipes your tears from your eyes. “Am I meant to believe that these are tears of happiness, then?”

You nod, heart fluttering at his touch. Good thing that the darkness of the night hides your blushing face. Hopefully he can’t feel your cheeks heating up though. 

He frowns. “I’m not sure I believe you.” 

His gaze is intense. You can’t help but try to lean away from him. He doesn’t let you, though. He pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head.

“If ever your mind is unquiet, or unkind to you,” he murmurs, “you must tell yourself that you deserve to be treated with the same kindness that you have shown to so many others. You do not need to ask for forgiveness, as you have done no wrong that needs forgiving,” Silco speaks his next words directly into your ear, his warm breath providing the same comfort as his arms. “If you are not ready to speak these facts, then I will do it for you.” 

You can’t help but sigh at his words, the cracked parts of your heart slowly but surely fusing together again. Your hands hesitantly reach around his back to reciprocate the hug, a deep inhale filling your lungs with his warm scent. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me for telling the truth,” he laughs, letting go of you to stroke your cheek. You take one of his hands in yours, squeezing tightly.

“Why are you awake?” you ask, leaning back against the wall. Silco mirrors your posture to resume staring out the window.

“I was enjoying the rain,” he says. He looks far off into the distance but rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

“You like this kind of weather?” 

He nods. “There’s peace in water… it holds you, whispering in low tones to let it in… and every problem in the world will fade away,” he takes a long inhale, as if preparing to dive into water at this very moment. “And yet you cannot allow yourself to sink too deeply, or those same waters keeping you afloat will drag you into its depths. It’s a story of opposites that has always fascinated me.” 

You frown at him. “You sound like you’ve almost drowned before or something.”

“Not at all; I merely had a few mishaps in my youth.” 

You want to ask him to tell you more, but you’re suddenly overcome by a huge yawn. Silco’s presence has been so soothing that drowsiness has crept up on you, ready to pull you into sleep. 

He chuckles and lowers his legs, petting his lap for you to rest your head on.

“It’s been a long day, hasn’t it,” he says softly. “Please don’t stay awake on my account. I’ll be here in the morning.”

Even if you weren’t too tired to crawl back into your sleeping bag, you don’t want to give up Silco’s body heat. You lie your head down on his thigh, ear squishing against his pants. Snuggling as close to him as possible. He pulls a blanket over you, humming a lullaby that eases you into slumber. 

________________________________________

The next morning, you make breakfast. Then Silco accompanies you to the mural, where you manage to get in a full day of painting. He never seems to tire of your company, always smiling at you and trying to get you to laugh. Casually touching you at almost every opportunity that presents itself. You worry that he’s spending too much time away from the Children of Zaun, but he assures you that they’ll be fine without him. Then, as the sun sets, he escorts you home, giving you a goodbye hug before he leaves.

Weeks pass by, each almost identical to the last. Silco is a constant in every one of them, a lighthouse in a peaceful, contented blur of time that teases you with what life could be… if Silco decided to stay with you. 

It makes your heart ache. His company is so comforting and reliable during the daytime, it’s hard not to take him for granted. In contrast, your nights feel lonelier than ever without him. You cling to your pillows, but they’re a poor substitute for your friend’s presence. 

One day, Silco is clambering over rooftops. Your camera is slung around his shoulders, banging against his chest as he pulls himself up pipes and ladders. He reaches a shorter building with a steel roof rusting turquoise not too far from the mural. He snaps several photos, trying to get the best angle where the sunlight highlights the focal points of the completed mural.

You stand on the roof of the mural, pacing erratically. You’ve never felt this much anxiety upon completing a commission before. Sure, there’s always a bit of nervousness before presenting the artwork to a client, but your pride in a job well done has always carried you through. 

You feel none of that confidence now when Silco returns the camera to you. He hands you the photos, and you flip through them frantically. 

“This is all wrong,” you mutter. “There’s too much empty space. Maybe it could use more birds? Everybody likes birds, right? Or maybe I should start over? I could—”

Silco cuts through your rambling with a murmur of your name. 

“It’s perfect,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.” 

“No way!” you exclaim, “I— I still have to—”

The artist in you knows that you’re finished with the mural. You can never achieve perfection when it comes to art, but you’ve reached the finish line nonetheless. Adding anything new or taking something out would ruin the whole thing. 

And yet there’s a visceral fear twisting your guts, threatening to quash the very air out of your lungs. 

The mural is done. But what about your time with Silco? Will he leave you now that you don’t need him anymore?

But… you do need him. And it has nothing to do with him keeping you company at your worksite. 

You need him in your life. 

“I don’t—” you’re too choked up to finish your sentence.

Silco says your name again. You close your eyes to better relish the sound of it. If it’s the last time you’ll ever hear him say it—

“We should rejoice,” he says deliberately, as if chewing his words carefully before speaking. “This is quite literally the largest piece that you’ve ever completed, is it not? Then it warrants a celebration just as grand.

“Would you allow me to take you to dinner?”

You open your eyes wide. Staring at him. 

The two of you have shared plenty of meals together. But the way he asks the question— with a heavy, significant gravity— makes you wonder…

“Silco…” you say slowly. Your next question could make or break the bond you’ve formed with him. But it would kill you not to know.

Especially if he gives you the answer you’re hoping for.

“Yes?” he asks.

“Are you… asking me out on a date?”

The upwards quirk of his lips blooms into a full smile, his large teeth peeking out at you. Shy eyes watching you between the curtains of his hair.

“Yes. Yes I am.”

Your anxiety scatters in the wind like dandelion seeds. Overwhelmed by the jubilation those four words give you, you run towards him and jump, throwing your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. The forgotten photos drop to the ground. 

Caught by surprise, he stumbles backwards. He hugs you around your waist, laughing. “May I assume that your answer is ‘yes’?”

“Yes!!” you almost shout. Oops, that might have been too loud. You’re up in his face, after all. “I’d like that very much.” 

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re bright and shining.

Still chuckling, Silco lowers his lips. Brushing them against your forehead. His eyes fall half-lidded. Turquoise irises still visible, deep as the sea. 

His nose nudges yours. Breath softly fanning your cheeks.

You bump your cheek against his. Then he dips his head. 

His mouth opens hesitantly. When you don’t pull away, he leans in.

Kissing you. 

Joy bursts inside you. Launching your heart into the heavens, as if it were rising on a scissor lift of its own. 

At first, he holds back. Light, grazing kisses that give way to more eager, deeper ones that force you to open your mouth wider. His thin lips are softer than you imagined, but still manage to encompass you entirely, tasting your upper and bottom lip in turn.

Silco lifts you up and off the ground. His arms squeezing you tighter. 

The kisses melt into each other. Passion and gratification building up and breaking all at once. Roiling inside you like the abstract, twisting swirls you painted on the mural. 

An eternity later, he finally lowers you onto the ground. Breathing heavily as he opens his eyes again. You break free from his lips, but remain standing on tiptoe. Your stance is unbalanced along with your heart. An elated drumbeat that has your pulse hammering loudly in your ears. 

He grins at you. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Me too,” you whisper, smiling brightly at him. You plant another kiss at the end of his lips. He happily peppers kisses all over your cheek, forehead, and nose before kissing you on your lips again. 

Maybe… just maybe… does Silco want you as much as you want him?

Hopefully, the answer is yes. 

Chapter 12