#You two worry impress and terrify me simultaneously

[thejolteonmastertj]

Spoilers for literally the first ten minutes of TOTK but it’s been over a month now and somebody’s gotta say it.

The downfall duo is now the downfall trio.

[withlovemark]

all of the moments that led me to you.

warning: steve's black eye (nothing new), violence, mentions of blood, a fight between steve x billy

pairing: steve x reader, light billy x reader (not really, this isn't a love triangle lol)

words: 4.5k+

summary: the title speaks for itself -- a series of moments with steve harrington

an: i was going to post everything as one fic but i kind of hit writer's block in the middle of year 1985 so i'll post this for now instead and hopefully gain some inspiration to continue :)

-

yr. 1984

i. the first meeting ft. dustin henderson

the words “code red” hitting your ears every five seconds, the stomping of feet running around the house, the back door opening and closing several times - babysitting is weird. not one kid is ever the same, some are easy-going, others can be a real pain in the ass. 

you hoped you got an easy kid today. one that just stays in front of the television, binging on crackers and occasionally asking for your help. obviously, you were wrong. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that it pays well while simultaneously allowing you to do some of your own studies and looking good on your college resume, you wouldn’t even be here.

but you are here. seated inside the henderson household. 

“hey y/n, can you please drive me to my friend mike’s house?,” dustin runs into the living room, an exasperated expression on his face, interrupting your reading. 

“are you okay?” you ask, worried about the kid you just met when his mother called an hour ago trailing on about how she saw your babysitting flyer some time back. and even though she knew that she had to book a date at least two days beforehand, she still asked if you could watch over her son. 

“just for today” she said, as she needed to look for her missing cat. her promise of double pay, convincing you to accept her request. 

“i’m fine, i just really need you to drive me to mike’s,” dustin says hurriedly, eyes hopeful that you wouldn’t ask anymore questions. 

“why?” you ask and the boy’s shoulder slumps, doing his best to not roll his eyes at your persistence. he’s obviously not used to  asking for permission. 

“i uhm forgot my book there and i really, really need it to study for my exam tomorrow,” he sends you a toothy grin, trying to convince you that that was all there is to it. you’re no fool. you notice the slight change in his voice, his fingers anxiously playing with his pockets, right leg slightly bouncing up and down - indications that he’s lying.

“you know your mom’s not paying for my gas, right?” you reason, not wanting to give in to his request and hoping you could just have a calm afternoon.

dustin sighs, his smile disappearing, “fine. i’ll just go behind your back and bike there and if i end up missing or in a ditch somewhere then it’ll be your fault,” he counters, personality quickly switching from the boy who said “please.” 

you sat there, flabbergasted, “are you…blackmailing me right now?” an eyebrow raising, you couldn’t believe how diabolical the curly headed boy is. 

“i’m not blackmailing you. i’m simply telling you what's going to happen if you don’t drive me,” he smiles, an almost devilish smile, tone hardening with every word and you truly do not know whether you’re terrified or impressed. 

letting out a quiet chuckle, you shake your head, “alright, c’mon kid,” you say, grabbing your car keys off the table, “but we’re going back as soon as you get it.”

——

you should’ve known not to trust him, finding yourself hurriedly getting into the back seat of the car of the last person you ever expected to interact with - steve harrington. 

pushing his forgotten red roses towards the other end of the car, you take your seat in the middle. 

“wh-what are you doing?” dustin turns from the passenger seat, facing you as steve takes in your presence, eyes on his rearview mirror, a confused expression evident on his face. 

“y/n l/n?,” he questions, finally remembering where he has seen you before, “you’re in nancy’s grade?,” he asks, more a question for himself than you. 

you nod, “steve harrington,” acknowledging his presence for the first time. 

 “why are you with dustin?” he wonders. he didn’t know much about you. only that you and nancy were sometimes studying in the library together. she’s told him before that you always get the top grades in class and she wanted to be around more motivated people like you. 

“i’m his babysitter and i’m coming with,” you simply answer his question, keeping the explanation short. it’s weird enough that you were inside the car of hawkin high’s famous “king.”

“since when did you have a babysitter dude,” steve reverts his attention back to dustin. 

“i'll explain later,” dustin reassures him quickly before turning back to you,  “and uhm, you don’t have to come, i have steve now,” he points to the guy in the driver seat like you don’t see him. 

from what you’ve heard about steve, you’re not sure you trust leaving the young boy with him. he’s known for being notorious, having bad company and overall, just a guy with the money, the looks and the popularity that somehow has every girl wanting him and every boy wanting to be him. you’re not sure how that guy can be trusted with kids.

subconsciously, you eye steve suspiciously, causing him to put two hands up in surrender “hey, i have no idea what’s happening either,” he defends, shrugging nonchalantly. 

snapping out of your daze, you focused your attention back on dustin, “look dustin, steve isn’t the one being paid to watch you right now,” you start to explain.

“hold on, you’re getting paid for this?” the older boy interrupted.

you ignore him, attention still on dustin, “if something were to happen to you, your mom would be looking for me. i’m responsible for you kid, i-,”

“fine! there’s no time,” he cuts you off, obviously in a rush. 

“you can come, just,” dustin contemplates, already regretting the words that slipped from his lips, “just don’t blame me for getting you into this thing.”

at that, steve snaps back to reality, “wait, wait, wait, if this ‘thing’ is about ‘that’ then she definitely can NOT come,” steve declared, his voice laced with a seriousness you didn’t think he could have. 

“well, are you going to drag her out of the car so she doesn’t find out about this thing?,” the younger boy replies, a sarcastic tone evident on his lips. 

“guys, i can hear you,” you piped in, eyes going back and forth between the two boys, having absolutely no clue what they’re referring to. 

“dustin, im not joking ok!,” steve ignores you, “we can’t tell people about this,” a serious expression appearing on his face, one you’ve never seen on him before, “we’ll get in trouble, you know that. besides, we shouldn’t involve anyone else into this anyway!,” he protested. 

he didn’t sound like the steve you would hear about at school. he sounded responsible, protective. he sounded like…a babysitter. 

“i know that steve, that’s why i told her to leave!,” dustin shouted. 

“well, she’s clearly still sitting in the backseat of my car!,” steve’s voice raises with every syllable. 

“can someone just explain what’s happening?” you try butting in, rolling your eyes, completely fading into the background as they continue their bickering.

“i don’t see YOU trying to do anything about it!,” dustin throws the argument back to steve, his patience on thin ice.

“she’s YOUR babysitter!,” steve points out yet again, ears turning red, veins popping and finally pushing the young boys’ limit. 

“fuCK!, we don’t have time for this steve, we really have to go NOW!” dustin shouts, losing his temper. 

steve, ready to reprimand him, before you decide you’ve had enough.

the series of “thing” and “this” has your mind spinning and your curiosity getting the best of you.  

“SHUT UP!” gaining the two boys’ attention, their bodies turning towards you, “both of you. shut. up.” you enunciate, loud and clear.  

“i promise i won’t blame you…or you,” glancing at the two boys, “for whatever the hell this thing is…just put your seatbelts on and drive,” ending their argument as you sat behind the passenger seat, clicking your own seatbelt into place. 

steve gives up, letting out a sigh, “fuck it,” before finally stepping on the gas. 

ii. the babysitters and an angry billy hargrove

you should have never picked up mrs. henderson’s call and you definitely shouldn’t have agreed to babysitting. what was the point of having your own terms and conditions when you didn’t even follow them yourself?

you should, however, have listened to steve and dustin when they told you to leave.

the day isn’t even over yet and you’re already questioning everything you knew. in a span of a couple of hours, you have been introduced to a world you couldn’t even imagine. having to pinch yourself a couple of times to make sure you weren’t just dreaming. 

everything was strange. 

you’ve spent the whole afternoon dropping meat, trying to bait something called a demogorgon. met steve’s spiked bat. got questioned regarding your relationship with billy hargrove from his very own red headed step-sister. came face to face with the said demogorgon, who, by the way, had demogorgon friends and were actually a pack of demodogs. almost died in a junkyard. walked in the dark woods just to end up in a creepy laboratory. felt the awkward tension between steve, nancy and jonathan. understood why will byers was called the zombie boy. stood behind steve while holding a random kitchen knife you grabbed from the byers’ kitchen — and to top it all off, encountered a little girl who flung the finally, very dead demogorgon through the window then unlocked the front door, all using only her mind. 

in conclusion, monsters and superpowers aren’t just a thing people read in their comic books.

“how are you holding up?” steve breaks you out of your thoughts, your eyes snapping to his voice. 

everyone else has left, leaving you the only two teenagers to act as the adults once again. 

the strangest thing of all of this was somehow, steve harrington went from being the popular jock to a guy whose simple presence can provide you comfort. everything you knew about him has changed. 

it’s amazing what shared trauma could do. 

you shoot him a small smile, “well, i definitely wasn’t expecting all this,” you look around the mess around you, “to be a part of that thing” you refer back to the boys’ banter, trying to keep the energy light despite everything that happened. 

he gives you a sheepish smile,  almost like he was sorry, regretting that he allowed you to be a part of this. 

“it’s not your fault. i chose to come,” you say, reading his thoughts and putting an end to them. 

“where did you put the demogorgon?” you continue, changing the subject, reassuring him that you were ok. at least, as much as anyone could be ok in this situation. 

“we stuffed it in the fridge,” he shakes his head, arms crossing, like he couldn't believe it himself, “‘for science’ dustin said,” steve quotes the younger boy with a grin.  

“right, of course, all the important things,” you chuckled, matching his grin as the two of you continued to clean the broken fragments that have scattered around the house. 

you thought it was over, that you could all just wait for everything else to unfold in peace but after a few minutes of silence, the kids were back on their feet, ready to "get off the bench.” you’re not sure how steve has the energy to continue arguing with them when you’re completely exhausted. 

the sound of an engine brings a silence to the house, max running towards the blinds recognizing the car that has made an appearance in the driveway, “shit, it’s billy, he can’t see me,” she says frantically, eyes meeting yours, a silent call for help. 

“i got it, just hide,” you hushly ordered, quickly making your way to the front porch. steve tried pulling you back but you were out the door before anyone could protest, resulting in him looking through the peephole. 

billy’s momentarily confused expression at your arrival wasn’t lost on you and if you were in his shoes you’d probably have the same one on, “hey sweetheart, what are you doing here?,” his husky voice taking up space in the cold, night air.

standing a couple steps away from him, his hand immediately finds a spot on your waist, pulling you closer. you placed a hand on his chest to keep some distance between the two of you, aware of the audience you have, “i’m babysitting a kid, his friend lives here,” you explain, smiling sweetly at him, hoping that he won’t suspect anything and leave as soon as he came. 

“have you seen my sister?” he asks breathily, face inching closer and closer to yours, a smirk on his lips. if it was any other day, you would have enjoyed his attention, maybe even be up for some fun. right now though, you just want him as far from max as possible. 

“no, why would she be here?,” feigning innocence, you hope he believes your lie. 

“she’s been hanging out with a couple of kids here, a bunch of bad influences,” he huffed, eyes quickly glancing around you before pulling you even closer.

“i haven’t seen her, she’s probably at the arcade, have you checked?,” you hope he doesn’t hear the shakiness in your voice. 

“you know what i like about you sweetheart?,” he muttered, placing a harsh kiss below your ear, his grip on your waist starting to dig into your skin. you know he has caught you. 

“you can’t lie for shit,” pulling you away from him, gaze darkening, he howled with laughter as you followed his line of vision, seeing four kids peeking through the window — one, with very bright red hair. 

frustrated curses slip from your lips as you shoot them an angry glance before billy grabs your wrist, dragging you right behind him as he pounded on the door, coming face to face with steve. 

“harrington, am i dreaming or is that you?,” he mocks, his hold on your wrist tightening. 

“yeah it’s me, don’t cream your pants,” steve rolls his eyes, hands on his hips like a disappointed mother. 

steve notices you wince under billy’s hold, “let her go man,” he orders, taking a step towards the wider boy. 

billy focuses his attention back on you, for a second you see a feeling of betrayal flash through his eyes but that was quickly replaced with a snarled expression, like he was completely disgusted with the thought of you. 

“is there a reason why you both are here alone?” his dark voice causes goosebumps to rise throughout your body. 

you’ve heard of how violent he can be but until right now, he has never shown that side to you. 

“what are you saying?,” you almost couldn’t recognize him anymore, breath hitching in your throat. 

“are you fucking him behind my back, sweetheart?,” billy’s voice grew menacing, “you know i don’t like to share,” he continued accusing you, his free hand coming in contact with your neck, forcing you to look at him. 

“dude, no. we’re babysitting,” steve answers for you and motioning towards the kids like it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  

“you’re hurting her,” he emphasized, “just let her go,” gently stepping closer, steve has his arms slowly reaching for you, hands up, a signal that he comes in peace. 

steve hopes billy will focus his attention on him instead, just wanting to get you out of there. he feels responsible for your safety and well-being. 

“gladly…” billy shot him an evil smirk, “you can’t trust bitches anyways right, harrington?,” he scowled, violently throwing you against the wall. 

your head makes a direct impact with the concrete, causing you to fall to the ground, a whimper slipping through your lips. you hear the kids' screams and a punch being thrown as you feel your vision slipping between darkness and light.  

you make out dustin running towards you and grabbing your hand, trying to get you to sit up. a couple of unsuccessful tries, he pleads “i’ll come back okay, just stay alive,” as he makes his way back to his friends. 

the proceeding events were all a blur and it felt like you were watching it through static television. one moment you can hear victorious cheers. the next moment, you hear something break and steve is suddenly lying on the floor a couple feet away from you, bloody faced and barely breathing. billy continuously throws his punches and the kids scream in fear. you try to get up but your body betrays you, only allowing you to reach out your arm towards the brown haired boy. 

somehow, the sound of the punches halted and billy fell to the ground. a sigh of relief escapes from your lips while the slow rise and fall of steve harrington’s chest becomes the last thing you see as you completely fade into the darkness.

—

the next time you open your eyes is to another set of screams, waking you up from your much needed slumber, if you can even call it that. you ignore the pounding in your head as you try to regain your vision. the first thing you feel are the strong arms in front of you, acting as your seatbelt, as you try to piece it all together. 

a couple minutes of confusion later, you finally recognize what’s happening, joining steve in full babysitter mode. the yelling of “no’s!,” and “stop the car’s!,” filling the tiny vehicle. 

“great, now they’re both awake!, i told you we should have just left them!,” mike cursed dustin annoyingly. 

“we were not going to leave them there, mike!,” dustin retorted, “c’mon guys i promised you’ll be cool, okay? just calm. down,” he softly ordered, like he was the babysitter and you two were his children. 

you scoff, “dustin, don’t fucking tell me to calm down!,” somehow fearing for your life now more than ever. 

“everyone just shut up, i’m trying to focus!,” max yells as lucas yells the directions in her ear. 

max makes a harsh turn causing a chorus of screams to rise. your hand immediately clutching around steve’s arm, face burrowing in his neck, seeking for protection, afraid of the crash that luckily never came. 

you’re not even too sure what happened the rest of the night but somehow you all made it out unscathed, besides the fact that you and steve are probably suffering matching concussions. 

iii. the heart-to-heart

in the tiny bathroom of the byer’s house, you find yourself standing in between steve harrington’s legs. his body feels familiar now, especially after you seeked comfort in each other in the dark tunnel, the two of you thinking it would be your last breaths. in some way, the miracle happened and the screeching demogorgons ran straight past the two of you, like you weren’t even there. 

you remember looking up at his golden, brown eyes. being that close to him, you noticed how beautiful they actually are and finally understood how he has charmed every girl at school. 

‘i guess it wouldn’t have been too bad dying in steve harrington’s arms.’ you thought to yourself.  

brushing those thoughts away, you bask in the moment of solitude within the commotion that is taking place behind the bathroom door. everyone reunited here, checking up on each other.

“does it hurt?” you ask him as you gently pat the alcohol covered cotton pad around his eye, cleaning up the bits of red that have stained them.

he slightly winces, hoping you didn’t notice, “i’m fine, this isn’t my first rodeo,” he assures, sending you a wink before completely regretting the tiny action, a frown briskly replacing his smile, causing small chuckles to slip between your lips. 

“you know, you should really stop getting into fights, i could’ve sworn you had a black eye just a year ago,” you remember it like it was yesterday - steve harrington walking the halls of hawkins high without his two minions for the first time, looking like he had fallen off his throne as the hushed whispers grew louder until they finally made its way throughout the school in a matter of minutes. 

you could tell he wasn’t at all the person he was trying to be and for a second, you saw yourself in him. you wanted to get to know that steve. the steve that may understand you. but that second didn’t last long. 

“so you were watchin me?” he teases, a smirk on his lips resulting in a playful shove and an eye roll from you.

gently grabbing his chin, you stare straight into his eyes, “of course i was. you’re steve harrington,” you remind him, “everyone watches you,” stating the facts before letting go and going back to removing all the dried up blood from his pretty face. 

he clears his throat, shrugging his shoulders, playing it cool, “yeah, i guess you’re right,” he says dumbfoundedly, making you laugh. 

“you’re ridiculous,” you quietly comment, a smile still on your lips. steve focuses on your light touches, trying not to wince every time you get near his open wounds. you notice his knuckles going white, gripping the toilet seat he was sitting on and ever so gently, hurried your actions. 

“there, all clean,” you softly declare as you slip from his space, turning around and putting all mrs. byer’s first aid kit back into place. he quietly thanks you, leaning his head back a bit to rest, his eyes shutting for a second. 

“thanks, by the way,” you break the silence “for protecting me earlier… with billy and all the upside down things,” you explain, looking at steve through the mirror. he nods, not entirely sure he’s deserving of your gratitude. you protected him as much as he protected you. 

“is he always that violent with you?” steve asks, an eyebrow going up. 

you immediately shake your head,  “no, he’s never laid a hand on me, i don’t know what came over him,” you say honestly. 

“why billy hargrove?” he asks, causing you to pause your actions, paying attention to him.

“what do you mean?” you reply, turning around to face him once again, your back against the tiny kitchen sink. 

“well, you didn’t leave dustin alone even though you just started babysitting him today, you care about having seatbelts on, you immediately covered up for max and just now, you took care of me when you should be taking care of yourself,” he points out, “you’re responsible and kind and you care and, well, billy is just a huge dick,” he finished, a hand flailing in the air as you stare at him, stunned at his observations.

you compose your thoughts for a while, not at all ready to have a heart to heart with steve harrington in a bathroom. 

instead, you throw the question back at him, “why nancy wheeler?” 

“you cannot possibly be comparing billy to nancy,” he replies quickly, a disapproving tone laced in his voice.

“i’m not,” you say defensively, “i’m just saying, she hurt you too but you’re still with her, you-”

“i-i don’t know if we’re actually still together,” he sadly replies, cutting you off, eyes dropping to the floor and you think back to the woods earlier that night — nancy emerging with jonathan right by her side. 

“but you still love her,” you continue, “even though she’s hurt you, you still love her,” you finish, trying to make a point.

“so, you’re in love with billy?” he concludes.

you scoff, wanting to say yes and finally drop the subject but the mere thought of agreeing with that sentence makes you visibly wince. 

“god no, i’ve been on a couple dates with the guy, it’s far from love,” earning an even more confused steve to face you. 

“i don’t know if it’s because i got my brains punched out or i really am just dumb but i completely lost you there,” he admit, a tiny smile on his lips and all you could do is sigh. 

heart to heart talk it is. 

“you’re not dumb, i just-” taking a deep breath, you prepare yourself.

“we all have our own reasons why were with someone,” you begin, “i’m just so tired of the perfect good girl image that has been imposed on me, it's like people just see me as that and nothing else,” as soon as you start, the dam breaks, flowing. 

you find yourself entrusting your deepest thoughts to him, “i can’t be fun because good girls aren’t supposed to be, i go to parties and people are confused that i'm there. you know, i even joined the cheerleading team so people can see me as something more? but all that does is fuel the assumption that i can do everything and still get shit done...that im not capable of mistakes and bad decisions. that i’ll turn out to be something great when really i’m just so damn scared all the time,” your voice breaks but before he could comment, you cleared your throat and continued. 

“i guess being with him makes people finally see me out of my stereotype” you confess, waiting for him to say something. the silence becomes overbearing and you feel completely vulnerable under his gaze. 

“oh,” steve responds, before bursting into laughter and you feel like a complete idiot, eyebrows shifting downward. god, you’re so ready to dramatically walk out of this bathroom and slam the door against his face but before you could do that, he notices.

“hey wait,” he says, gently grabbing your arm, asking you to stay as he arranges his thoughts.

“i’m sorry, i’m just relieved that you’re not actually in love with him because you deserve a lot better than billy hargrove,” he says charmingly, his cool facade still on display. 

“i know,” you agree, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes, “is that all?” you ask, still annoyed. 

“yeah,” steve starts, “i-no,” you give him time. you know that he’s having a war in his mind right now, the same one you just had. 

he avoids your gaze, thinking to himself, until finally, he puts his defenses down, “i understand you,” he confesses. 

“if it makes you feel better, it’s not at all greener on this side, i wished people looked at me less, i wish i didn’t have to go to all these parties just for people to respect me,” steve rattled on, feeling the weight fall off his shoulders with every word that falls off his lips, his facade disappearing bit by bit.

“i completely gave up on school because everyone has already expected me to fail and i started to believe them…it’s tiring having to pretend i’m this ‘king’ steve,” he quotes, “when really i am spiraling and have no fucking clue what i even want in life...i’ll probably just end up having a stupid job i hate and being as bitter as my father,” he sadly chuckles.  

“i’m just as scared as you,” he ends with a small smile, eyes meeting yours. he feels lighter after having said it all out loud for the first time and he can’t quite comprehend how he feels so safe sharing his saddest truths with you. 

but as you cast him a kind smile, the words “fuck stereotypes,” making its way to his ears, he can’t help but be thankful for the spilled truths and ajar doors. 

steve mirrors your expression and you’re glad you finally got to meet him. not “playboy” steve harrington and definitely not steve “the king” harrington. 

just steve. 

-

next: yr. 1985 (to be written)

an: a lil bridgerton reference there hehe ... thank you for reading! let me know if you're interested in reading the other moments i had planned :)

feel free to inspire me by dropping your thoughts, comments, suggestions, etc. here <3

[141goblin]

Soft: Chapter two.

CW: Mention of body image, reader feels inferior to her best friend. Slightly suggestive.

A/N: Thank you for all the love on part one, i’m so glad people like my writing. It’s heavily self indulgent so it makes me very happy to know it resonates with people other than me🥰

—>Part one

After a little encouragement from Johnny and the rest of my martini, I find myself stood in front of the group of men and Amelia as her and Johnny both introduce me to his friends. I got a wink and a “Nice to meet you, lovely” from Gaz, a firm handshake and a “Pleasure” from Simon…

“And this is Price, our Captain.”

The wide man smiles warmly and gives me a nod.

“Pleasure to meet you, dove.”

I give him a sweet smile and something between and a nod and an awkward bow/curtsy. Why the fuck am I curtsying? Jesus christ, I need another drink already. I feel my cheeks heating up with embarrassment but luckily, no one mentions it. They either didn’t notice or decide not to mention it. Either way, I don’t care.

Everyone begins to engage in small talk, leaving me stood there in the awkward predicament of being part of the group, but not being part of the conversation. I feel so ridiculous and out of place, like a child that’s stood with a group of adults, unable to join in on their conversation. I pretend like I don’t care and politely excuse myself and walk towards the exit.

I walk outside and sit down on the stone bench, my feet already aching because of my stupid heels, the cold night air nipping at my skin that simultaneously feels too hot because of the amount of alcohol i’ve consumed.

I rummage around in my handbag and pull out my half-empty packet of cigs that I save for when I drink. I always insist that i’m not a smoker, yet the minute I get a few drinks in my system, i’m puffing away like a chimney, making my breath stink. I light up and inhale it deep, feeling the all too familiar burn in my lungs. The smoke curls up into the night air as I exhale, leaving a ribbon of grey in front of me.

I think back to Amelia and how effortlessly pretty she looks, how she’s able to command everyone’s attention just by walking into a room. She doesn’t have to worry about what she looks like 24/7, she doesn’t have to worry about meeting someone in person for the first time after talking on a dating app and feeling terrified of being rejected and being labelled a ‘catfish’ because they didn’t know I was fat from my pictures. I know it’s not her fault, I know that. But deep down, there’s a bitterness, right in the pit of my stomach. She’s gorgeous, she doesn’t have to even try. The bitterness festers and claws at my insides on nights like this, where i’m left alone to entertain myself while she’s off with Johnny or her other friends. I sound like a child, i’m fully aware of that, but still, I feel it. Deep down in my stomach, a dull ache for more, a longing, a yearning to be that girl. Just as i’m stewing in my own grumpiness and general bitterness, I hear the rumble of a deep voice behind me.

“You alright, dove?”

Normally, i’d make an effort to impress a man like him. He’s handsome, too fucking handsome for his own good. Normally, i’d stub out my cigarette and sit up straight to hide the rolls of my stomach that protrude when I sit comfortably. But right now, I don’t care.

“Fine, thanks.”

Clipped, short, blunt. A subtle hint for him to leave me alone. He either ignores it or is too stupid to pick up on it, because he sits down beside me. Thighs spread, one hand on his thigh, the other wrapped around a cigar.

“Not a fan of parties like this, I take it?”

I scoff and flick some ash off the end of my cigarette before taking another deep puff, letting it fill my lungs, the stench of tobacco creating a cloud around me.

“You could say that.”

He laughs, his broad shoulders shaking up and down, the sound rumbly and deep, settling into my bones. He raises his cigar to his lips and takes a drag, the brown cylinder hissing and glowing red at the tip as he sucks. His voice is thick with smoke when he speaks.

“Mm, I get it. Not for everyone.”

I’ve either had too much to drink, am at the end of my tether, or just feel way too comfortable with this man, because what comes next is an outburst, an angry rant.

“I mean, is it for anyone other than rich arseholes or people who have been dragged into it by those rich arseholes? Groups of people pretending to be something they’re not, just to impress each other. I don’t get it. Fucking ridiculous if you ask me. I’d much rather be curled up on my couch with a shit bottle of wine and a takeaway than be here but I couldn’t say no to Amelia. Pain in the arse…”

I expected him to defend the party, or make some excuse that it’s a chance for like-minded people to ‘network’ or some ridiculous bullshit. But, to my surprise, he just laughs again. A warm, rumbling sound that makes me want to press my ear to his chest. I huff and cross my arms over my chest, glaring out into the night, the grassy courtyard scattered with multiple bush-sculptures, or whatever they’re called.

“Feel better, dove?”

I huff and laugh and hum in response. He gives me a tap on the thigh and stands up.

“I’ll be inside, if you decide to stay. I hope your night gets better, dove.”

I give him my best attempt at a warm smile and then he disappears inside again. I take a deep breath and try to shake off the festering bitterness and grumpiness. I should be inside, with my best friend. I stand up, feeling the ache of my heels and walk back inside to the ballroom, putting on a happy face. I spot Amelia, Johnny, Gaz and Simon at a table towards the front so I make my way over. Amelia gives me a concerned look, a silent ask of ‘You okay?’ and I just nod, dismissing it. I’m not getting into it, not here, not now.

A waiter appears and places a blueberry martini in front of me, without me even having to ask and i’ve never been so grateful. I take a large, burning swig and turn to the group with feigned confidence.

“So, what’d I miss?”

Johnny turns to me without taking his eyes off the stage, where a few people are setting up a microphone and some speakers.

“The birthday boy is about to make his big speech. Should be a good one, better than last year.”

The lads share a few knowing laughs, like they’re all giggling over an inside joke, and i’m about to ask what’s funny when a familiar, gravelly voice talks through the microphone and out of the speakers.

“If I could just have your attention for a minute or two-“

Fuck. Sake.

“Just want to say a quick thank you to all of you for coming to celebrate my birthday with me tonight. It’s lovely to see see you all. I hope you all enjoy your night and make complete use of the bar. Behave yourselves”

If there was ever a time I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole, it’d be now. I went on a big, angry rant to the poor man minutes previously, completely ignorant to the fact that the entire reason this party is taking place is because it’s his fucking birthday. I’ve never felt more like a dickhead in all my life, and i’m certain my face is bright red. Price raises a glass and speaks again.

“To us rich arseholes, at least pretend to be on your best behaviour, eh? Here’s to a good night.”

He ends the speech echoing my previous words with a wink in my direction and I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life. I must’ve sounded like some entitled, bitchy woman who thinks she’s above rich, fancy parties. I knew i’d never have a chance with a man like him anyway, but now any flicker of hope there was has been completely stubbed out by my own angry words, fuelled by alcohol and bitterness towards being the ‘single, fat friend’.

I down the rest of my martini in an attempt to hide my beetroot-red face and embarrassment, despite the fact that my head is already a little fuzzy and clouded by the way i’ve been chugging blueberry martinis like my life depends on it. Luckily, no one notices my embarrassment and Price goes off to mingle with other people rather than coming back to our table, so I don’t have to confront him. I make a silent ‘thank-you’ to whoever is up there in the sky, whether it be god or some other deity.

The next few hours go by without any more embarrassments, thank god. I do my best to engage in small talk with the lads while simultaneously avoiding Price. I should apologise, I know that, but I doubt he wants to see me. Or hear my whining voice ever again. Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he cut me off and tell me it was his fucking birthday to save me the embarrassment of going off on some pathetic rant about ‘rich arseholes’? Why am I such a fucking idiot?

I excuse myself from the group and go back to the bar to order another drink. Except this time, I order a glass of water along with my martini. Arguably the only good decision i’ve made all night. No, the only good decision i’ve made in a long time. I plop myself down on the same tiny barstool as a few hours previous and take a few swigs of water to try and sober up a little and cool myself down. My hair has gone from being up in a bun and cute-messy, to being free and wild, cascading down my back. I don’t even remember undoing it, but i’m past the point of caring. My face is flushed, my eyes are glassy and my lipstick is faded and the tiniest bit smudged. A whole mess.

I force my thoughts away from considering the mess i’ve become over the course of the night and I look over to Amelia and the group of lads. Before I even have time to register that Price has joined the group, my stomach drops. He’s looking right at me with a fucking smirk on his face. If I wasn’t so embarrassed I’d probably think it was the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen. My face immediately blushes scarlet and I discard the glass of water for my martini. If i’m gonna get through this night with any semblance of dignity, I won’t be doing it sober. I debate getting up and sucking up my pride to apologise for being such a bitch. But then, what if he just laughs in my face and everyone else sees how much of a whiny child I was? Yeah, better not do that.

Amelia seems to notice him staring right at me because in a matter of seconds, she’s following his gaze and then walking over to me, that determined look on her face. She knows somethings going on, and she will demand to know.

“Okay, what the fuck. Did you and birthday boy get it on in the toilets or something without me knowing?”

I scoff and roll my eyes, not meeting her gaze and pouring some more blueberry flavoured courage down my throat.

“Obviously not, Amelia.”

She shakes her head and sits on the stool next to me, determined to get to the bottom of my awkward behaviour.

“Okay, listen. Me and you are gonna get out of here and go back to your apartment with a bottle of your favourite shit wine and we can talk all about it. I can tell you’re not enjoying yourself and I wanna know what’s going on. Gimme five minutes, i’ll be back and then we’re leaving.”

Before I can argue and tell her it’s okay, she’s going back to the group of lads and giving Johnny a kiss goodbye. It’s times like these where i’m reminded why she’s my best friend. She can read my feelings without me having to say a word, and she does truly care about me, even if my stupid little brain tries to convince me otherwise.

I leave the rest of my martini and make my way outside to have a cigarette while I wait for her. It’s well into the night now and considerably colder, and i’m mentally cursing myself for not wearing a jacket. I pull out another cigarette from my handbag and take a deep, long drag. The same burn, the same stench, the same short-lived relief. Just as i’m about to exhale-

“Leaving so soon, dove?”

For fuck sake. Why does this man have to show up at the worst times?

“Afraid so.. Past my bedtime.”

Again, the man laughs. Now, I know i’ve had too much to drink because I feel the warm, rumbly sound deep in my core, between my thighs. I don’t turn around to look at him, I can’t face him. I think i’ll die of embarrassment if I do.

I feel the warmth of something get draped around my shoulders, and the scent of spices and smoke mixed with expensive cologne. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to this man and here he is being chivalrous and giving me his jacket. I say nothing, but i’m grateful for the warmth.

“Hm. Shame. I quite enjoyed that little rant of yours.”

He’s doing in on purpose, i’m sure of it. He’s giving subtle digs to make me feel like even more of an idiot. It’s now when I spin on my heels to face him. I need to apologise. Now or never.

“Listen, about that.-“

“No need to apologise, dove. I liked the honesty. Not often I find a soft, beautiful thing like you with such fire in her.”

Just like that, i’m rendered speechless. I was expecting him to brush me off or belittle me or even scold me. But no. He’s giving me compliments like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I’m stuttering and fumbling over my words when Amelia walks about and grabs my hand, seemingly oblivious to the situation and pulling me into an uber. I get in, still speechless and head spinning. Is my head spinning because of the countless martinis I guzzled or because of him? I don’t know, and I can’t figure it out.

Amelia and I make it back to my apartment as we immediately kick off our shoes and crack open a bottle of shit wine and immediately I feel comfortable, i’m in my own space, drinking my favourite cheap wine with my best friend. Not surrounded by people I don’t know In some huge fucking mansion.

Amelia sits on the other end of the couch, legs intertwined with mine as she sips on the wine and gives me an expectant look, waiting for me to fill her in on tonight’s details.

“So… I went outside for a smoke and Captain Guy followed and sat down next to me. He asked if I was enjoying myself and I said no and went on a big rant, talking about how the only people that enjoy parties like that are rich arseholes and blah blah blah…”

I conveniently leave out the part at the end where he gave me his jacket and called me ‘soft and beautiful’. Which reminds me, I still have his jacket. I make a mental note to give it Johnny so he can give it back to him at some point.

Amelia’s eyes widen and she laughs.

“No way! Is that why he started talking about ‘rich arseholes’ in his speech?”

I nod, my face contorted into shame and embarrassment. Of course, Amelia thinks this is hilarious and nearly chokes on her wine.

“I felt like such a prat. It was the poor man’s birthday and here I am, basically calling him a rich arsehole…”

Amelia’s laughter dies down and she gives me a sympathetic look and a pat on the thigh.

“Girl, don’t even worry. He thought it was funny. Seemed interested in you. Even asked what your name was.”

My eyes instantly widen at the prospect of a man like Price being interested in a woman like me. I’m not exactly everyones cup of tea, i’m a big girl, rough around the edges, basically a hot mess on a good day.

“He what?!”

Amelia sports a shit-eating grin and nods, like she’s satisfied with herself.

“I swear. He came back inside and started asking about you.”

My face blushes like a fucking idiot and I have to bury my face in my hands. Since when did I become the type to get flustered and giddy over a man? Especially a man i’ve met once, and once only. But damn, what a man he is. That voice, broad shoulders, strong arms, thick thighs, strong hips…

The topic of conversation changes away from Price to Johnny and part of me feels grateful, though his words are still bouncing around my head like the DVD symbol on a TV.

“Not often I find a soft, beautiful thing like you with such fire in her.”

They bounce around in my head for the rest of the night, from when Amelia and I tuck into a greasy kebab, to when we settle into bed a good two hours later… The words are echoing around in my skull when my phone buzzes on my nightstand. I’m instantly ripped from my fantasies about the nice man with the wide shoulders when my brain reminds me the notification is probably from my shit-bag of an ex-boyfriend. I roll my eyes and breathe deeply before grabbing my phone, mentally preparing to read more false apologies when i’m completely stopped in my tracks.

Unknown: Nice seeing you tonight, dove. Think you still have my jacket. -JP

JP. The P is for Price, that much is obvious. But J? I begin to wonder about what his first name is… Jack? Jacob? James?

My thumbs hover over the keyboard as I rack my brain to come up with some sort of coherent response. I don’t even question how he got my number, i’m too busy focusing on the fact that he even texted me to begin with, and is calling me ‘Dove’. My stomach swirls. What do I say?

I put my phone down and decide i’ll reply in the morning when the alcohol is out of my system and i’ve had enough time to formulate a response that doesn’t make me sound like an absolute idiot. Until then, his words and text bounce against the corners of my skull, well into the hours of the morning.

[claudemblems]

Operation "Kiss the Girl" | Chapter 1: The First Date

Summary: With the help of Jade and Floyd, Ace and Deuce put the first step of their "Kiss the Girl" plan into motion. What better way to woo your true love than sharing a private candlelit dinner in the Mostro Lounge together?

Genre: Fem!Reader. Lots of pining. Fluff.

Notes: This is a long one at 2,891 words! I plan on writing at least two more parts after this, so stay tuned for them 💜

“Shrimpy’s in love with Azul?!”

The tweels stared slack-jawed at Ace and Deuce, wondering if this was some sort of prank they had the audacity to try to pull on them. Were they still angry about almost getting squeezed to death by Floyd during that whole contract debacle? Tsk, humans get so offended by everything. 

"She is!" Deuce exclaimed. "And the only way to turn her back to a human is to have Azul, her true love, kiss her within three days!"

"Hmm…" Jade tapped a finger against his chin. "Ace, Deuce, for your sakes, I hope you're telling us the complete truth. Otherwise, I'll have to use Shock the Heart on you."

"We swear, Jade-senpai!" Ace cried, slamming his hands on the table. "We didn't come all the way here to mess with you!"

"Please believe us. [Name] is in a dangerous situation right now because of our stupidity. We can't just leave her to stay a mermaid forever. We need your help."

In one last attempt to persuade the twins for help, Ace and Deuce got up from the booth and prostrated themselves on the floor of the Mostro Lounge. With their faces to the floor, both of them yelled simultaneously, "Please!"

The twins shared a look, debating if getting involved in such frivolous human affairs was worth their time. After several painstakingly long moments, they finally reached a consensus. 

"All right, we believe you, and we'll help you."

"Really?!"

"On one condition."

"Oh no," Ace groaned, earning a swift smack on the head from Deuce.

"There's no room for complaining! We promised to help [Name], so we have to see this through."

"Fine,” Ace sighed. “What's the condition?"

"That you'll help us help Azul confess his feelings to her."

"Sure! No problem! That will be easy—wait, confess his feelings?!"

"You haven't seen how Azul gives her those sickly sweet goo goo eyes?" Floyd sighed, rolling his eyes at the thought. "He's like a sea sponge that soaks up any kind of attention he gets from her."

"Wait a minute. So you're saying that their feelings are mutual?"

"It would seem so," Jade replied. "Ah, I do love a good story about sea-crossed lovers."

"Isn't it star-crossed...nevermind. Yes, we'll help you come up with a plan for him to confess to her!"

"Excellent. Go prepare [Name] for a romantic candlelit dinner tonight. We'll make sure Azul is dressed to impress."

"He's also gonna need some time to calm those nerves of his. He already turns into a tomato-faced mess when [Name] is mentioned~"

"Are you sure that you'll be able to convince him to have dinner with her?"

"Oh, don't worry," Jade answered, flashing a smile that showed off his sharp teeth. "We have our ways.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Earlier That Day

“Professor, what’s that?”

“It's a seashell necklace imbued with the voices of shapeshifting sirens,” Crewel answered Ace, leaning down beside the bathtub you were soaking in and clasping the jewelry around your neck. “It will allow her to return to her human form for a short while.”

“Professor, you’re amazing!”

“Don’t start flattering me yet, puppies,” Crewel replied sharply, shooting the duo another one of his infamous terrifying glares. “It can only hold its power for a limited amount of time. You’ll know it’s running low when scales begin to resurface on her skin. When that happens, come find me. I’ll restore its magical properties with a vial of a siren’s song.”

“Yes, sir!”

“And don’t think your idiocy will go unpunished. I’ll go easier on you for being so willing to help out your friend, but once she’s back to normal, I’m going to whip you both into shape.”

“Y-Yes, sir!”

“Now, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ll leave her care in your hands. Do not make me regret it.”

“We won’t let anything happen to [Name]!” Deuce promised.

“You can count on us!” Ace added.

“Good. Then I’ll be on my way.”

The three of you watched as Crewel gathered his things and wordlessly strolled out of Ramshackle Dorm. The atmosphere turned heavy as the realization of the impossible mission you all needed to accomplish finally dawned on you. But not one for reveling in misery, Ace was there to lighten the mood.

“Well, it’s time to work on getting [Name] her little smooch with Azul!”

“Y-You don’t have to put it like that, Ace!” you cried, hiding your flushed face in your hands. 

“Aw, is someone embarrassed? Are you going to turn as red as the Little Mermaid’s hair when he puckers his lips for you?”

“Keep up your shenanigans and I’ll let Jade and Floyd make a seafood meal out of you.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Okay, I can do this. It’s no problem. I just have to act like myself. Don’t try too hard. Don’t fiddle with your tie. Don’t give yourself reasons to be nervous. This is perfectly fine. This is fine. I’m fine…NO, I’M NOT FINE AT ALL!!!”

Floyd cackled as Azul hid his face in his hands, the candlelight illuminating his flushed skin. “Aw, poor Azul’s heart isn’t prepared for his first date!”

“They grow up so fast,” Jade added, dabbing at his dry eyes with a handkerchief.

“Both of you, knock it off!” Azul cried, waving his hands in frustration. “You just dumped this on me out of nowhere! Who makes “date” plans for someone else, much less when it doesn’t even involve you?”

“If we left it to you, it would never happen.”

“You…You don’t know that!”

Jade and Floyd exchanged a look. 

“I think our boss here is in denial, Jade~”

“AM NOT!”

“You’re not helping your case, you know.”

“Ugh, just…leave me alone for a minute,” Azul pleaded, rubbing circles into his temples. “I need to compose myself before she gets here.”

And just as he finished speaking, a voice came echoing from the entrance of Mostro Lounge. 

“Jade-senpai, Floyd-senpai! [Name]’s here!”

“Well, that’s our cue,” Jade said, shooting a playful smile at an absolutely mortified Azul. “Floyd, let’s get some menus and lead [Name] to her seat.”

“Sure thing! Azul, you better be composed now~!”

The twins set off before he even had time to respond.

“Oh, Sevens,” Azul sighed, holding his head. “This isn’t going to go smoothly at all.” Why in Twisted Wonderland did he let the twins persuade him into doing this “date” nonsense in the first place? “It’ll be a great stress reliever.” “You deserve a break.” Yeah, right. Those two were planning something far more nefarious, and it frustrated Azul that he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

But all of his anger dissipated the moment his gaze fell on you.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight before him: you wore a beautiful light blue evening gown that draped over your shoulders, cascading onto the floor like ocean waves. Your hair was pinned up in an intricate hairstyle fixed in place with pearl-studded hair clips, and your makeup perfectly complemented your outfit’s ocean theme with varying shades of blue eyeshadow and coral-colored lipstick. And to tie the look together, your neck was adorned with a dazzling gold seashell necklace.

“Wow,” he breathed, too caught up in your beauty to hold back his awe. 

You flushed at his sincere reaction. “Is this too much? Vil and Rook insisted on doing my makeup for the occasion. They said it would be ‘good practice.’”

“It’s perfect,” Azul replied, offering you his hand. Though he was still feeling like a flustered mess on the inside, he would never allow himself to forget to treat you like a gentleman should. “Shall we?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

To Azul’s surprise, the night was flying by, and his nervousness had completely vanished as if he'd never had it in the first place. Conversation with you was light and comfortable, but if he was being honest, he would have been perfectly content with just letting you talk the rest of the night away. He found your voice so soothing to listen to, and a part of him wondered if you’d managed to put him under some sort of a love spell. But he knew that you, of course, were a magicless human, and yet that only made Azul all the more entranced by you. 

“Thank you for having dinner with me, Azul,” you finally said, giving him a small smile.

“Of course,” Azul replied, wearing a smile of his own. “I should be thanking you as well. I would have asked you properly, but Jade and Floyd like to take matters into their own hands.”

“Just like Ace and Deuce. They seem to always make plans without asking for approval first.” You shook your head, laughing at the thought. “That’s what gets them into trouble all the time.”

“Yet here we are, enabling their behavior,” Azul sighed. “Still, I could never pass up an opportunity to be in your company. If I’m being honest…” A pink hue began to bloom on his porcelain cheeks, “you’re one of the few humans I feel like I can truly connect with. You know that I’m a reserved person, so trying to form friendships proves to be quite difficult for me. I’m out of my element when I’m not in the sea, which makes my attempts at fitting in even worse off. But with you…I forget about all of my shortcomings. I just enjoy being in your presence. So thank you, for all that you’ve done for me.”

Silence hung in the air for a few long moments before Azul’s face turned from a soft pink to a bright burning red. “I’m so sorry! I just started rambling and made everything awkward…Sevens, I don’t know what I’m even doing here—”

“Azul.”

Upon feeling the touch of your hand on his, he lifted his gaze to your face, and his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you wearing a warm smile. “I enjoy being in your company, too. I’ll always be here for you, whether you want to talk or get something off your chest. All you need to do is call my name and I’ll be there.”

“Oh,” he breathed, taken aback by your sincerity. “I mean, yes, thank you. You’re also welcome to come talk with me any time.”

“Good.”

The two of you finished up your dinner before your plates were taken away by Jade and Floyd (who wore suspicious grins on their faces, you noted). They returned with dessert for the last course, which you and Azul finished in a comfortable silence.

“Could I ask you something?” you asked after a while, fiddling with your hands in your lap. You’d been having so much fun on your “date” that you’d nearly forgotten you needed to win his affection. 

“Of course.”

“What do you think of the love story between the Little Mermaid and her prince?”

Azul’s eyes widened a fraction. “Hmm…I’ve never really thought about it. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. I watched the movie again recently with Ace and Deuce, but both of them thought it was overrated. “Too much romance, not enough action.” Honestly, there’s a reason those two don’t get girls.” Sorry, Ace and Deuce. This is just a little bit of revenge for what you’ve gotten me into.

“Hah, those two are too scatter-brained to get it. The movie is a classic! Who watches it and doesn’t like the romance?”

“Are you perhaps…a hopeless romantic, Azul?” 

The tips of Azul’s ears turned a deep shade of red as he quickly shook his head. “N-No, I just don’t like seeing fools criticize good films!” He sighed, straightening his tie (something he seemed to do when he was nervous, you realized). “But if you’re asking for my opinion, I think the love story between the Little Mermaid and the Prince is beautiful. It’s endearing to watch the mermaid try to express her feelings through fleeting touches, gentle gazes, and bright smiles. And watching the Prince slowly begin to fall in love with her is so heart-warming. You can tell he loves her for who she is. His heart is matched perfectly with hers, and his affection for her is unconditional. He helped save her life, after all, just like she saved his.”

“They really are so sweet, aren’t they?” you replied with a dreamy sigh. You held your head in your hand, gazing up fondly at Azul as he rambled on again. The way his eyes lit up when he recounted the mermaid and prince’s romance was unmistakable. It was almost like he craved for the same thing in his own life, like he’d spent endless nights wondering what it might feel like if someone loved him like that.

Just who was he imagining in those scenarios, though, you wondered. No. You shook your head. Don’t get cold feet now. You’re looking too far into this. He’s just talking about the movie, is all. But still, part of you couldn’t help but question if there was a hint of truth in what you thought.

“And the film shows the importance of an equal give and take in relationships. This ensures fairness and a win-win situation for both parties, no matter what obstacles await them in the future.” He’s talking about contractual obligations again, isn’t he? You laughed to yourself. He never changes.

“But I do admire the Little Mermaid’s devotion to the one she loves. To give up her whole life as a mermaid means letting go of a lot, but she sees a brighter future with her prince. I think everyone deserves to find that special person, just as my mother found my step-father.” A small smile appeared on his face, no doubt recalling happy memories. “To be with someone who wants nothing more than to remain at your side…what more could you possibly ask for?”

It was then that he realized he’d begun to ramble on again. “Oh, I really don’t know when to quit, do I?’

Well, now’s the time to test the waters.

Carefully, you placed your hand on top of Azul’s, noting how his cheeks flushed at the action. “You deserve that happiness. I hope you find it.”

Instead of crawling back into his shell, Azul surprised you by smiling in return, gazing at you fondly. He mirrored your gesture by placing his other hand on top of yours and sincerely answering, “I hope you find it, too.”

Now it was your turn to blush. 

But further conversation with him would have to wait. The shell’s power had begun to dwindle, causing your bright mermaid scales to reappear on your skin.

Shoot. I need to come up with an excuse to leave, and fast.

And as if they could read your mind, Jade and Floyd quickly came to your rescue.

“Azul, don’t you think it’s time to wrap things up for the night? I’m sure [Name] is quite tired, and there’s a mountain of paperwork waiting for you in your office.”

“Oh! You’re right. It’s late, isn’t it?” Azul glanced down at his watch. “I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” you replied. “I had a great time. Thank you for having me.”

“You will always be welcome here. Come by whenever you’d like. Your food and drinks will be completely free of charge.”

The statement was so out of character that it left yours, Jade’s, and Floyd’s mouths agape. Azul never offered anything for free, not without some sort of catch. But it seemed that he was being genuine with his words. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Within moments, Ace and Deuce returned to your side, thanking the trio before leading you back to Ramshackle Dorm.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Even long after you’d left the lounge, Azul was staring off into the distance in a daze. He couldn’t hide the happiness that enveloped him like ocean waves. He was caught in your current, a single man enraptured by the siren that was destined to take him down with her. But he would willingly go wherever you wanted him to, even if it meant risking everything just for your love.

Floyd broke into laughter at the lovestruck look on his boss’ face. “If you like Shrimpy that much, why don’tcha tell her? She’s been giving you goo goo eyes all night long, too!” 

“Ah, young love. It’s a beautiful thing,” Jade chimed in, smirking when Azul’s face turned a lobster red.

“You both are insufferable,” he huffed, stomping off to his room. He’d had enough of the tweels for one night. But even if he escaped their teasing within the confines of his four walls, that didn’t mean he’d managed to calm himself down at all.

Falling asleep proved difficult when all he could think about was you. 

And across the college grounds, the same could be said for you, too. 

You had the most wonderful night spent at Azul’s side, but time was already running out. You’d nearly forgotten the purpose of going there in the first place. You didn’t need to fall even more in love with him. He needed to fall in love with you.

But you still had time to make this all work. That’s what you reminded yourself before your eyes finally slid shut, your dreams filled with memories of your romantic night. 

One day had passed. You only had two more remaining. 

[madaboutmunson]

Again - Part 10

Part 1 | Part 9 | Part 11 | Full list of Again series links

Steddie fic where Steve and Eddie are in their mid 30's and everyone has sort of drifted apart

Taglist: @adaed5 @grtwdsmwhr @swimmingbirdrunningrock @mightbeasleep, @jewellthebooknerd

================================================

Steve returns to his food and tries to shake off whatever that just was.

"So, what exactly were you both up to on the court before I got out there?" Steve directs his question at Corey and Morgan. They look wide-eyed at their plates, then exchange a glance biting their lips back, and then turn to Steve. Bravely Morgan speaks first.

"Well, I was just trying to show him that he doesn't need to be the tallest guy out there if he's got a good team around him."

"You know what, Morgan, you’re absolutely right. Thank you. Though I'm sure it won't be an issue for long, Cor, you're only eight. You've got loads of time" Steve smiles hugely at the boys and looks pleased. Even though their generation seems to be in the throws of glamorising violence, extreme sports and derogatory behaviour, it was great to see two kids being kind to one another.

Mouth half full of food, Eddie speaks, "And how exactly did you do that, hmmm?" The boy's beaming faces turn to alarm, and Eddie turns calmly to Steve, "Vague answer. They're hiding something" Eddie pokes at his food again and takes another bite. Then, turning back, he looks between them, putting down his fork and steepling his fingers to his mouth, "Let's break this down, shall we? Something around height and other people…sooooo, ah, you threw him up in the air at the basket" Morgan looks very nervous again and is flanked by Beans.

"Flipped", Corey adds with a smirk, and Eddie returns an impressed eyebrow raise.

Steve puts his knife and fork down and says slowly, almost like he's trying to comprehend it simultaneously, "You were flipped through the air at the hoop?!" His hand rubs at his chest.

"Told you it would give you a heart attack" Corey laughs and shakes his head.

Steve feels awkward. Yes, the thought of his boy getting flipped through the air like a pancake at a metal hoop was terrifying, but he didn't want to seem like a complete spoilsport. Neither of them was harmed, and he guessed Morgan was probably only doing it to win over Corey, at which he had succeeded where many had failed. Steve feels Zee staring at him and turns to see a slight pleading look in her eyes. Steve swallows, "Well, you know, neither of you is hurt, so I'm not gonna make it a big thing. Just um, maybe something less risky next time, right guys?"

"Right," the boys say in unison, but one with defeat and the other with relief.

Steve turns to Eddie and mouths silently, "Was that ok?" He could feel the worry creasing on his brow. He knows how to speak to his kids but doesn't want to overstep with Morgan. Eddie looks at Steve with a sweet smile, and under the table, his knee nudges Steve's leg.

"Perfect", he mouths back, and Steve grins back like he won the jackpot or something.

The meal goes by with them generally chatting about school, D&D and music, mainly letting the kids take the lead on conversation until it's time for dessert. Eddie dabs his mouth with a napkin and asks, "Kids, think you can clear the table for dessert if we go get it? I mean, Steve did kinda do all of this." 

"It's fine, really. It won't take me five minutes," Steve says, quickly reaching for some of the dishes. Corey slaps his hand away.

"He did a lot today, didn't he?" Zee agrees with a beaming smile, but not without a small amount of teasing, "Sure, why not, right?" She looks over at Morgan, who agrees immediately, which prompts a shrug from Corey, who starts piling up some plates.

"Onward! To the castle! To retrieve the dessert in distress!" Eddie booms, leaping out of his seat and tugging at Steve's arm. With a jolt, Steve follows him out to the motorhome.

Eddie pulls out the steps and opens the door waving Steve inside first. Ascending the stairs, Steve is quite unprepared for the beautiful aroma that hits him from a space occupied by one grown man and a teenage boy. Was that peaches? Once inside, Steve takes the place in, and guiltily he thinks this place is a lot tidier than he was expecting. Eddie wasn't gross or disgusting, but he was, as it said on the outside of his home, a hurricane. Steve remembers piles of utter chaos around his room in the trailer, and sure sometimes he might forget where something was and get wound up about it, but eight times out of ten, he could walk straight up to one of the said piles or boxes and reach in and find exactly what he was looking for. This place looked terrific, sure the teal furnishings were a bit much, but Steve could see that Eddie mostly tried to cover those with throws or cushions made out of band flags or crocheted material. Above all else, he's surprised about how roomy it was besides the narrow mini hallway towards the back. 

"Wow, Eddie, this is amazing!" Steve says, and it's genuine, he always dreamt of owning something like this, but his life had been a little different in that dream. Six little nuggets instead of two and Nancy instead of no one. Eddie's comment from earlier repeats in his head. I'm really happy that all the choices I've made led me right here. Steve couldn't have agreed more. Eddie steps inside, too and shuts the door behind him.

"Sorry, old habit." He says awkwardly, turning and opening it again.

"If I got yelled at as many times as you did for leaving it open, I would always close it behind me too," Steve laughs, remembering, "How is he?"

"He's old and crabby, you know, like always", Eddie jokes, as he points to a photo hanging up, "That was his sixtieth birthday. I wanted to take him to see the Chippendales but his old man, Jack, got all uptight about it. So we had a meal out…and then I took him to see the Chippendales… in Vegas… the very next weekend" Eddie smiles fondly at the picture, "He's doing good for his age. It's why I don't like to stray too far from the remains of Hell-kins for too long these days. I know he stays there because Jack freaks out every time he goes somewhere new, you know. Sometimes he forgets who we are or when he is, and Wayne, gods love him, does everything he can to help him." Eddie folds his arms around himself and looks at the picture of him and Wayne, "It's diabolical, isn't it?"

"What is? Steve asks, looking at the picture. Wayne still had that sparkle in his eyes and that huge smile that was solely reserved for Eddie as far as Steve had seen. He hadn't known him long, but Wayne's impact on him had been tremendous. He made Steve think that along with the criminal track record, the other thing the Munson name should be known for is melting the iciest of exteriors and making people feel at ease. Well, on the right side of them, cross them, and they'd give you hell. Wayne was one of the few positive parenting role models that Steve thought about when dealing with his own kids. How he managed Eddie daily was nothing short of a miracle, but Eddie gave back that love and care in his own unique ways in droves.

"That destiny made him wait for his person for so long and then took him away in less than half the time he waited" Eddie shakes his head, "Always gotta be looking after something or someone, huh,  Uncle Wayne?" he says planting a kiss on his fingers and gently places them on the picture. Eddie turns back to Steve and kicks at the floor a little, glancing down as he does, "He says hello, by the way." He says, looking up with a shy smile, and it's like something in Steve shifts again.

"He remembers me?" Steve says softly like he can't believe it.

Eddie snorts out a laugh like Steve's question is ridiculous, "Of course he does! His little Sunshine Steve? Christ, he wouldn't shut up when I told him I saw you at the library. Steve this, and Steve that. Practically swallowed the phone with the gasp he took when I said you had kids." Eddie pretends to be annoyed, but a laugh makes a smile break out across his face, creasing up his scars. Steve half smiles at Eddie and then at the picture. He always used to call him that, Little Sunshine. Even though when they met, he was almost a full-grown adult. Ah, here's the lil' Sunshine we've been waiting on he can hear Wayne gruffly say with a smile from the seat on the front porch of their replacement trailer. Even just recalling his voice saying it warms Steve's heart, someone older than him treating him with fondness, with a nickname he didn't even have to earn. Fond memories like that make him sure that Wayne is the most incredible grandfather to Morgan too. It's weird how you can know someone your whole life, and they just don't have the same impact as someone you knew for a blip of that. The time between Wayne getting a new place and Eddie leaving Hawkins was short a few months. Steve halts his brain from travelling down this painful road. They'd had a great day, and he didn't want to ruin it now.

"Would you say hello back for me next time you speak to him?" Steve asks tentatively.

"Of course, even though I'll have to sit through him going on and on about you" Eddie flails his hand in the air and then pushes his hands into his lower back as he tucks in his bottom lip, "But you'll totally owe me a huuuuge favour then, Steve" he sways from side to side a little looking directly at Steve now, "but I digress. The tour"

Eddie shows him around the Four Winds Hurricane. He's only had it a few years and got it at a steal because although it was only a few years old, some damage slashed the price. Luckily Eddie was able to fix it easily by himself. The kitchen has a full oven and gas stovetop, above it a microwave, to the left of that two small sinks behind them a refrigerator littered with notes, postcards, pictures and novelty magnets, and a small table with two chairs tucked underneath it. The snug hallway has a vanity area, wardrobe, and bathroom. There is a bedroom which is currently closed off because it's summer, so it's Morgan's space. He reassures Steve that he always gets Morgan a new mattress for the summer and laughs heartily. Then they move towards the front of the vehicle, where a sofa pulls out into a bed on one side, in front of that the driver and passenger seats, a TV in the centre console between them. Eddie sits side-on in the passenger seat and pats the driver's one, "Wanna try it out?" He beams up at Steve, who excitedly gets in the seat, "You wanna take her for a spin?" Eddie tempts him, and boy does he, but Steve doesn't really want to stray too far from the kids.

"Maybe next week?" Steve asks with a regretful smile.

"Sure thing", Eddie agrees as Steve reaches out to get a feel for the steering wheel. As his hands grip around it, his mind does that channel flip again, except this time he knows exactly what it was. He can still hear the yelling and screaming, remembering when they stole the RV with Eddie's help from the trailer park. He remembers talking to Nancy. Brain static. He looks down. He's in a jacket with patches and a protective vest and driving, but there is silence, which is worse than the yelling and screaming. His stomach sinks, crushed under the waves of dread. He looks over his shoulder and can see Eddie in the backseat. His scarless pale face emphasises his dark eyes looking out the window in trepidation. He won't look back at him, and Steve knows why. 

Steve's driving him to his doom.

"STEVE!!" he hears suddenly and is jolted out of his memories. Eddie's hands are clamped on his shoulders so tightly it hurts, his eyes wide with fear. Steve blinks, and Eddie inhales sharply, releases him and flops back in his seat with relief, "Jesus Christ, Steve. What the fuck?!"

"Eddie, I'm so sorry. I just- When I- You know what, it doesn't matter, are you ok?" Steve thinks about explaining, but it will just make him sound insane.

"Oh, it matters! The last person that froze on me fucking levitated and snapped into a million pieces. Did you see anything? It can't be him, right? He's gone, isn't he?" Steve can feel the panic start to work Eddie up again.

"Listen to me", Steve speaks calmly, reaches out and puts his hand on Eddie's shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. "He's long gone. This is gonna sound crazy, ok, but when I touched the wheel, my brain just took me back to driving that stolen RV. Some kind of memory trigger. I didn't mean to scare you."

Eddie's face relaxes again a little, but his brow is still pinched in concern. He's not looking at Steve. Instead, his eyes search some imaginary far-off point beyond the floor. "You called for me. I answered you, but you just sat there. Like, frozen." his voice trembles when he replies.

"Hey, we're ok. You're safe. Nothing bad is gonna happen, ok? I'm here. The kids are inside. It's all gonna be ok, Eddie. I promise," he says reassuringly as Eddie hides his face in his hands.

"Sorry, Steve. I just panicked, you know. I should have thought about it before asking you to sit in that seat." Eddie closes his eyes and sighs before sitting in his seat towards Steve, "Does that happen often? I know you get lost in your thoughts sometimes, but that wasn't the same as earlier. I was calling you for a while there," Eddie asks with concern.

"The dog normally helps. She can tell, barks, and it pulls me out before it gets too much. Before I got her, someone was usually around, you know. Jenny or the kids. In answer to your question, it doesn't happen that much, mainly because of Beans. It used to happen more years ago, and it's happened twice today. Earlier wasn't so bad because it was something I didn't know about, so I didn't think it was the same thing, but this was something I've recalled a thousand times. The detail is so strong, and it just sort of pulls me right back into it," Steve sighs in frustration. "I'm not making much sense, am I? God, I must sound insane to you" Steve rubs his eyes with his fingertips in frustration. He feels Eddie's hand on his upper back.

"Nothing you could say to me would ever make me genuinely think that Steve. Not a thing in this world or any other." Eddie says gently, and when Steve finally looks up to check in his eyes if he's telling the truth, he adds, "I promise," offers him a small smile and points at the window, "Do me a favour, pull those curtains shut. I wanna show you something." Steve eyes him curiously. "Don't worry, it's nothing lewd, Steve. I use it when I can't sleep cus of the nightmares" Steve pulls the curtains across, and Eddie gets the others and shuts the door, and the motorhome descends into darkness, where Steve can just about make things out. Eddie guides him to the little sofa by the forearm, "Sit down here and look up".

Steve sits on the sofa next to Eddie. The seat is large enough to have space between them, not that Steve would mind greatly if there wasn't. He looks up at the ceiling and can just make out the ripples of the dark fabric that he's now only noticed attached to this part of the ceiling. There is a click to his right, and tiny dots of light appear across the dark space. Then he starts to make out some patterns and lets out a happy exhale of realisation. It's part of the night sky, in miniature. They sit silently for a little while, and Steve feels his heart rate slow down and a fuzzy peaceful feeling swim over him. He remembers this, only this time, neither of them is drunk, high or both. It almost overwhelms him to know that Eddie uses something from their shared past to comfort him, just like Steve does.

"I'll say this for it, it's much comfier than a car bonnet or trailer roof," Steve says quietly as if to not disturb the fake stars in their pretend sky. 

"Yeah, and I don't have to wait for a clear sky either. It's always here," Eddie says, and Steve can hear the smile in his voice. A few more moments pass in the dark and quiet.

"It was just cheap bourbon," Steve says, eyes still trailing over the lights.

"Huh?" Eddie almost laughs.

"In the decanter upstairs, it's not the expensive stuff. I tried that, and it tasted much better, but it didn't help", Steve adds, "So I went to find the cheapest bourbon I could, and honestly, it's disgusting, but it works" Steve feels Eddie's hand find his on the seat between them.

"Like we used to drink,'' Eddie softly confirms he understands, and Steve hums in agreement, pushing his hand further into Eddie's. There is another quiet patch before a solemn "I'm sorry I left, Steve" breaks the silence.

"No, please. I don't wanna hear that, Eddie. Don't be sorry for leaving, it really doesn't matter. Thank you for coming back," Steve says with a smile illuminated by the dim, warm white lights. He feels a squeeze on his hand and returns it. Then two squeezes which he returns again. Then an exchange of three, Eddie laughs gently in the subtle light. "Thank you for this. For everything, really. No pressure, but I'm really happy you're back, no matter how long." Steve manages to say the words but doesn't dare to deliver them directly to Eddie, so he sends them into the air above them, "We should probably go back to mine, though. We've left three kids in a kitchen by themselves," Steve says, making Eddie chuckle. He pats Steve's hand as he lets it go, clicks the lights off and gets up to open the curtains.

Eddie picks up a dish towel and opens the oven retrieving a very ornately decorated pie. The pastry lattice work on top is a beautiful golden brown adorned with other pastry embellishments made to look like leaves and berries. "Eddie, don't you have any oven mitts?"

"Yes, they're in the drawer!" Eddie says, shutting the oven, waving his hand a little as he places the pie on the stovetop.

"Then why aren't you using them? You'll burn your hands!" Steve says like he's telling off one of the kids.

"I'm a grown man Steve. I can stand a little heat from a pie, from an oven that wasn't even switched on," Eddie says with a bit of sass.

"Oh, is that so?" Steve says, putting his hands on his hips and leaning into his space a little, making Eddie grin. "Well, it will be pretty painful to hold my hand again with burnt fingers, won't it?" Eddie blinks and hurriedly retrieves the oven gloves from the drawer and puts them on. Steve smiles satisfactorily, and Eddie pretends to be really put out by the request, but the corners of his mouth curl up occasionally.

"We'll get the door for me then, Mr Health and Safety, or have I gotta do everything around here?!" Eddie says in a false annoyed voice, picking up the pie in his oven-mitted hands. Steve opens the door for him and lets him out first as they return to the house.

As they open the door, Steve can hear the kids deep in debate about something,

"Seriously, you can't truly believe that?" He hears Corey scoff, "Like, he's great and everything, but cool is not a word I'd associate with him. You haven't seen his dancing."

"I hate to do it, but I agree with my brother. He's the best but cool, no," Mackenzie giggles, "Is this something Eddie told you? Because I can tell you this for sure, he is definitely biased regarding Dad. Like, majorly!" Steve turns and looks at Eddie, who shakes his head and shrugs.

"No. He has never said anything like that. Well, not directly. I've got this book. I've had it since I was a kid. Eddie made it for me." Morgan starts, and Steve looks at Eddie again, who is picking up his pace towards the kitchen. Steve catches up to him, silently stops him, points at the telephone table, and Eddie reluctantly puts the pie down. "I was sick a lot when I was little, always in and out of the hospital, and he told me these stories a bunch of times. The main character in them was my favourite, and I asked him if he'd write them down so that other people could read them to me when he wasn't around. Well, Eddie, being the way he is, didn't just write it down. He made me a whole damn book. It's a story about a Prince. In the beginning, he's mean because that's how all the people in his kingdom are. Then one day, he meets a princess, and he falls in love, but she's not all she seems. Secretly she's a badass monster hunter, and unfortunately for the Prince, she is so deep in the grief for her friend that she can't love him back. So the Prince is horrible to her and banishes her from the kingdom. He asks his advisors for help when he realises his mistake, but they only know meanness and cruelty, and the Prince can see what a terrible place his kingdom is for the first time. The Prince knows that deep down, he isn't mean and cruel, but it's all he's known his whole life. He goes to find the princess to apologise, but when he gets there, he doesn't find the Princess. He finds her as a monster hunter trying to save a young boy with his brother. The Prince, seeing her with another man, is heartbroken and nearly goes back home to his kingdom, but he hears her scream and charges into battle. He finds a magic mace, and together they defeat the evil monster and save the boy. But that's just the first story. The Prince becomes a monster hunter too. He battles monsters and bad guys and, through the Princess, makes a whole new group of friends that they protect fiercely and save the world." Steve looks over at Eddie, who is busy looking around the hallway, avoiding his eyes, foot tapping.

"Ok, great story and everything, but what does that have to do with Dad? He's not an author," Corey laughs.

"Wait a minute," Zee says thoughtfully, "Did one of these stories have a super brave bard in it who looks after people in the village? Like the pied Piper, but he saves a whole town instead of leading all the kids away? I can't remember it all now" Eddie's eyes shoot to him, and suddenly the ceiling fascinates Steve.

"No...oh hang on, actually…there was a bard, but he wasn't brave, he was a coward, he disobeyed the Prince's orders, but the Prince saved him and carried him all the way home." Morgan says curiously before continuing, "But my point is the Prince in my stories is your Dad. Obviously, the monsters are a metaphor for something, maybe like bullies? I don't know. Your dad is a hero."

"It could be anyone, though, right? So how do you know it's our Dad?" Zee asks.

Morgan clears his throat and, in a theatrical voice, says, "For the Prince, despite the cold-heartedness that surrounded him, had glorious hair and handsome eyes of warmest brown. The gods themselves spilt their honey to give him golden sparkles in his eyes, so he would never know true darkness, and upon his golden skin, they mapped the stars, so he would never lose his way" Steve notices Eddie is blushing a little and decides to cut him some slack. He nudges him and points at the pie and then at the kitchen. Eddie gives him an apologetic smile, picks up the pie and walks into the kitchen.

"I don't get it," Corey says, and there is a slight clattering of plates.

"I do," Zee says softly.

"Get what?" Says Eddie, and Morgan gulps nervously at his sudden presence as he places the pie on the table.

"Oh, all the hype around Britney Spears", Zee replies quickly.

"That's not-" Corey starts before yelping as Zee rushes towards him, and he runs around the table back to his seat.

"Wow, this looks great, guys!" Steve says as he grabs a knife and a pie server from the drawer. 

"It's a peach Melba pie," Morgan says excitedly, "it's got peaches and raspberries in it. I hope you don't mind Mr Harrington. I made a little batch of creme anglaise, or it's nice with ice cream too, or just on its own, well, if you like those flavours. Do you like peaches and raspberries?" Morgan rambles, and Eddie pushes his hands out before him, encouraging him to relax. Steve turns to Morgan with raised eyebrows and a smile.

"You just whipped up a creme anglaise?" Steve asks in surprise.

"Yes, sir. Only learned to make it this summer, and it goes really nicely with so many desserts. You can make it thicker, and then it's more of a custard like British people have, like the consistency of a vanilla pudding almost" Steve can see the enthusiasm on his face, all wide eyes, solid eye contact and animated hands, just like when Zee would tell him of her D&D escapades. Steve hands the utensils to Morgan.

"I'm impressed by our manners Morgan, but Steve is fine. Why don't you serve the dessert how it's supposed to be? I'm happy to try your recommendations," Steve says kindly.

Morgan straightens up and positively beams at Steve, "Ok, yeah, I can do that. Um, ok, so" he excitedly gets up and starts serving a pie slice for everyone. Zee seems to get the biggest and most decorative portion, "So, um yeah, you can try a bit of it on its own, and then I'll pour you a spot of the creme anglaise, and you can try that, and if you like it, you can have as much as you like." Morgan sits in his chair but doesn't touch his pie. His fingers tap together nervously as he watches everyone else. Steve tastes a small piece of the pie. Initially, he tastes the flavours he expects of the peach, raspberry and pastry, but then the layers start to come through the crisp, sweet butteriness of the pastry, the slight detection of spices mixed in with the fruit, and his taste buds are in heaven. Steve emits a noise of bliss that potentially should not be heard at the dinner table, making Eddie nearly choke on his food.

"Wow. That is really something else. Where did you get this?" Steve asks about to take another bite before a very pleased Morgan gets out of his seat, stops his hand before he takes another forkful, pours a little of the accompaniment onto the pie and stands back to watch him. Steve would have gladly finished the pie as is, he's still determining how this sauce will improve on the most delicious pie he's ever eaten in his life, but he tries it anyway.

Of course, he's wrong. The addition was perfect. The tartness of the fruit and spices burst through the creamy soft vanilla on his tongue, and it is incredible. He shuts his eyes a moment to savour it, and when he opens his eyes, he looks happily at Morgan, "It's good. Really good, Morgan." He moves around the table, doing the same for everyone else except for Eddie, whose slice Morgan covers entirely, and circles back to Steve.

"Do you want any more si-Steve? Morgan asks

 "Sure do!" Steve enthuses, and Morgan pours a zig-zag over the rest of Steve's pie. 

"That should be a good balance," he says, sitting back down to eat his own serving and putting the pouring jug between them all, which Eddie immediately reaches for, receiving a cautioning look from Morgan. Eddie huffs and goes back to his pie.

"I, um, I made the pie," Morgan says nervously, not taking his eyes off his plate.

"You did not!" Corey blurts out, traces of raspberry around his mouth, reaching for the jug. "You must have got this from one of those fancy bakery places. Like the one Val used to work at," he says, pouring the addition onto his pie. Steve instinctively goes to tell Corey off, but Eddie nudges his leg and shakes his head with a little frown. 

"I'm totally serious, dude! I made it in the RV!" Morgan says back quickly.

"Did not!" Corey says, taking another mouthful.

"Did too!" Morgan rapidly fires back to a grinning Corey.

"You did not! I didn't see you make it, so I don't believe you!" Corey says and exchanges a glance with Zee.

"Yeah, for the second time today, I have to begrudgingly agree with my brother. We didn't see you make it. This could be from anywhere," Zee says with a disappointed tone.

Morgan points at Eddie, "He saw me make it."

Eddie looks at the pouring jug and then at Morgan, "Technically, all I saw was it come out of the oven. But, unfortunately, I was busy working."

"Noodling on your guitar, you mean?" Morgan says in frustration before looking at Steve with hopeful eyes, then just out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches Corey sending a wink to Eddie, and Zee giggles 

"If it's worth anything, Morgan. I believe you, but to prove these naysayers wrong, maybe you'll just have to come back and make another?" Steve suggests.

"I could do that? I mean, yeah. I could do that! Then you'd have to believe me," Morgan says, questioning at first and then slipping into confidence.

"Well, I guess we'll just have to come back then," Eddie says, sighing, trying his best not to smile. Steve hooks his ankle around Eddie's under the table, and after taking in the initial cute jump of surprise he does, Steve goes back to finishing his pie.

One communal table clean up and two very heated games of go fish later, it's time for Eddie and Morgan to head home. Steve really should be used to card games getting out of control between his kids, but add Eddie to the mix, and it was chaos. At least Morgan was a small oasis of calm for Steve to smile over at whilst the arguments ensued. Steve wasn't sure how the goodbyes would go, but unfortunately, it was just a wave exchange this time. 

As the kids are getting ready for bed, Steve hovers in the door frame of his bathroom. He isn't entirely sure why, but they always brushed their teeth together in his bathroom every night they were here. Though he could guess it probably had something to do with the amount of toothpaste, they'd get all over his mirror.

"So, er, did you enjoy today?" Steve asks. He gets enthusiastic nodding in response over the sound of vigorous brushing, "Happy for them to visit again?" Immediate nodding from Zee, a thoughtful pause and then a nod for Corey. "Cor?" Steve inquires, and Corey swills out his mouth to speak.

"I liked them well enough, it was fun, and the pie was great, but um…Ken can handle herself, I think. I'm just a bit worried about you, Dad," Corey says with genuine concern, and Steve tries his best not to laugh, "This Eddie guy, he's funny and cool, I guess, but he's not like you. He's kinda crazy, and I don't want him to make you big sad, is all. You know, like some of the other dates." Steve's heart sinks. He thought he'd hidden his disappointments well enough over the last few years, but clearly not as well as he thought. From the use of big sad, this is something Corey had asked Jenny and Val about. "But I know those kinds of things can't be predicted. Otherwise, people wouldn't try, would they? Everything would just work out forever," Corey adds thoughtfully, looking in the mirror, and that guilt creeps over Steve again about his failed marriage. 

"Hey, you've got nothing to worry about, especially no need to worry about me. I can look after myself. It's only because you've only ever seen the Dad side of me you think that. I used to be quite the force to be reckoned with in my youth," Steve says with a smile at them both in the mirror, and Zee and Corey share a wide-eyed glance between one another. 

"How mean are we talking exactly?" Zee asks cautiously.

Steve hides his smile, not wanting to let them know he heard them talking, "Oh, absolutely devastating", he says seriously, folding his arms, "Positively medieval", he adds as they exchange a gasp.

[as8bakwthesage]

First Kiss - Alt Gabriel x Self-Insert

"Tell me, little human..." Gabriel whispered to Sage, as he beckoned them closer wordlessly and without even needing to touch them. Sage complied, their eyes bright with the fire of curiosity. Gabriel's heavenly smile was soft and tender. "...What do you think of me?"

"I find you... intriguing." They say leaning in as Gabriel holds their chin and gazes at them serenely, yet his eyes hold carnal desire Sage had never seen so intensely in someone's eyes before. They crawl further ahead, a small yet almost shy smile growing on their face. "You certainly have left an impression."

"Really now? Have I?" Gabriel replied with honey in his silky voice. Sage shuddered as they stared at his rapidly dilating pupils, which ordinarily would freak any other person out, but Sage had seen Gabriel do this on more than one occasion. At this rate, those eyes could mean anything from murderous rage to intense happiness. But in his gaze was more than just any typical emotion the Alternate exhibited. He pulled them in, caressing Sage's loose hair and inhaling their scent, which sent a shiver up their spine and a shudder of delight up Gabriel's. "Describe it to me."

"You've been nothing but a mixed bag, Gabriel. You are smooth as butter one day and then hard as stone the next. I never know what to expect from you-AH!" They explained, but were briefly cut off when Gabriel grabbed them and pulled them into his lap, allowing a more comfortable position and one where Gabriel held all the power as he stared with those terrifying eyes down at them. But Sage could not find it in themselves to be afraid or worried as they stared up at him with ill concealed delight.  "You excite me."

"I suppose I do, little lamb." The False Angel cooed, running fingers down the side of Sage's face, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Would you like to know a secret, my dear?"

Sage gulped, unsure of what to expect from the most unexpectant person they knew. "Of course, Gabriel." The Alternate leaned forward, held Sage's chin up with only two fingers while his other free hand caressed their back. His stare was unwavering in its determination and deep unfiltered desire. And Sage, though they knew before but denied it heavily, finally accepted what was going on. The way he held them, the way his eyes met theirs, the sheer proximity. Their heartbeat quickened, but not out of fear, and Gabriel must have noticed because he grinned ever so slightly.

"You have left an impression on me too."

His lips met theirs in an almost violent collision, desperate to taste them, desperate to have them. Sage yelped in surprise but found themselves deeply enjoying the way their False Angel kissed them. They eagerly returned the kiss, adding their tongue into the mix, which only spurred Gabriel on further as he groaned and easily pulled them closer so that their chests pressed against each others. Sage's hands immediately found his hair and began fiddling with his fine silky locks.

They both pulled away almost simultaneously, as if to gauge each others reactions to the obviously enthusiastic kiss they had just shared. Sage's eyes were half-lidded with lips barely parted as they stared at Gabriel with all the lust in the world. They had denied, deprived and resisted this, these feelings for so long. They had thought them unrequited and merely buried them beneath the surface. They had never assumed their beloved Alternate in disguise would clearly desire the exact same thing as they desired. Oh what sweet bliss it was to have it be requited. "Sweet, little, darling Sage..." The demon whispered, drawing out each syllable, which caused them to shiver. "...You are such a fool for believing I did not feel the same. Especially when you pester me, when you ask me these incessant questions, when you are the bane of my very existence... and yet one I cannot live without, my sweet."

Sage's face turned bright red and they knew so as they grinned sheepishly and avoided the Angel's gaze, one which was so intoxicated purely because of them. And that was so overwhelming and yet so powerful. The leader of the Alternates, Gabriel himself, wanted them over anyone else. A mere human compared to the immortal and all-powerful creature that was the being who sat before them.

"Do not look away." It was not a threat, it was not a command, it was a mere statement and one that Sage immediately heeded. They looked back at him as their heartbeat sped up and their breath quickened slightly. The smile on Gabriel's face was a reward in it of itself. "There. I enjoy it when you gaze at me, just as I enjoy gazing at you. I want to gaze upon you for all time, my sweet lamb."

"Mmh, Gabriel..." Sage whimpered, an embarrassed yet furiously excited grin broke out on their face. A similar yet surprisingly boyish grin appeared on the Alternate's face as he pulled them forward once more to bury his face in their neck and inhale their scent as he began to pepper their skin with kisses and nibbles. "A-Ah, Gabriel-"

"I will have you as mine, sweet dear. I will give you all that you desire. I will spare no fools for you to simply be with me." He murmured in between kisses which he eagerly lavished onto them. Sage mewled and moaned softly as he spoke these words into being. "I-I hope those aren't wasted words, my Lord." Sage replied, and it clearly had an effect as the False Prophet looked back up at them with surprise and elation.

"I do not waste my words simply, my sweet child. However..." He began before a teasing grin played at the edges of his smile. His own eyes were beginning to half close as he smirked. "...I do so thoroughly enjoy it when you call me my rightful title."

Sage grinned. "Well, I shall not deprive you of your rightful name... my Lord."

Ravenously, Gabriel and Sage met once more in a simply amorous kiss, with nothing to contain them. They were so enraptured by each other, of each other, for each other. Gabriel knew what he wanted and he made it clear, as did Sage. Neither of them wanted anything more than to be enveloped in each other's arms and kiss.

And neither wanted to stop for anything as Gabriel lifted his sweetheart into his arms and whisked them away into their bedroom. The fun was only just beginning and neither of them wanted an end.

((I ended up writing this because IM SO FUCKING THIRSTY FOR SOME FALSE ANGEL ASS-))

[heretyc]

incorrect quotes, outlast edition

Y/N: This is such a bad idea. Miles: Then why are you coming along? Y/N: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

-

Miles: Stop buying plastic skeletons for Halloween! It's terrible for the environment! Trager: Yeah! Locally sourced, all natural skeletons are much more environmentally friendly!

-

Y/N: *Stubs their toe* FUCK! Waylon: Mind your language! Y/N: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”??? Waylon: Y/N: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

-

Y/N: You saved me. I owe you my life. Blake: No thanks. I’ve seen it and I’m not very impressed.

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Y/N: Do you have any skeletons in your closet? Trager: You mean literally or figuratively? Y/N: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

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Trager: BEHOLD, the field in which I grow my fucks! Lay thine eyes upon it, and thou shalt see that it is barren!

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Chris: What doesn't kill me should run, because now I'm fucking pissed.

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Eddie: Some of you may die, but that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

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Eddie: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve. Y/N: I think you mean cards. Eddie, pulling knives out of their sleeves: No, I do not.

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Walrider: Physically, yes, I could fight a bird. But emotionally? Imagine the toll.

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Trager: I'm a reverse necromancer. Jeremy: Isn't that just killing people? Trager: Ah, technicality.

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Blake: That’s one of my biggest fears. Like, if I ever woke up as a donut... Lynn: You would eat yourself? Blake: I wouldn’t even question it.

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Knoth: What did you do with Marta's body? Val: What didn’t I do with the body? Knoth: Val: Okay, that sounded more sexual than I intended. I disposed of the corpse respectfully.

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Knoth: You're right. Val: That's... That's an unusual phrase for you. Did you just learn it?

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Marta: God, give me patience. Val: I think you mean 'give me strength'. Marta: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead.

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Y/N: You're the love of my life and my best friend, I would do anything for you. Val: I want you to eat three meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Y/N: Absolutely not.

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Y/N: There is no future. there is no past. do you see? Time is simultaneous, an intricately structured jewel that humans insist on viewing one edge at a time, when the whole design is visible in every facet. Val: Marta: Knoth: Everyone Else At Y/N’s Surprise Birthday Party: Val: All I asked was if you wanted to cut your birthday cake first.

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Lynn, trying to ask Blake out: Would you like to stay for dinner? Val: WOULD YOU LIKE TO STAY FOREVER?

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Y/N: Naturally, we are on the cutting edge of technology. Val, amazed: Wow... Eddie, to Val: Well what does that mean? Val: I don't know. Val, to Y/N: What does that mean?

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Jessica: We need to get through this locked door. Lynn, give me your credit card. Lynn: Here. Jessica, pocketing it: Thanks. Blake, kick down the door.

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Jeremy: If you had to choose between Y/N and all the money I have in my wallet, which would you choose? Trager: That depends, how much money are we talking about? Y/N: Trager! Jeremy: 63 cents. Trager: I'll take the money. Y/N: TRAGER!!!

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Frank: Schrödinger’s cat is overrated. If you wanna see something that’s both dead and alive you can talk to me any time of the day.

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Marta: Favorite horror movie? Val: It Knoth: Saw Nick: Annabelle Laird: High School Musical. after watching it I spent all my middle school years terrified that the entire school would start singing something and I’d be the only one who didn’t know the lyrics

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Heretic: So what’s for dinner? Val, staring at the food they just burnt: Regret.

-

Miles: I currently have 7 empty notebooks and I have no clue what to put in them. Suggestions? Waylon: Put spaghetti in it. Miles: I'm currently taking suggestions from literally anyone but you. Jeremy: Put spaghetti in it. Miles: I'm currently taking suggestions from anyone but you two. Trager: Put spaghetti in it. Miles: I'm no longer taking suggestions.

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Eddie: I am not out of control! I'm a law-abiding citizen! Waylon: Really? Name one law Eddie: Don't kill people? Waylon: That's on me. I set the bar too low.

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Knoth: *Walking into a room* Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things. *Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder* Val: *Out of breath* THEY PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

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Blake: You're 'the second worst thing to ever happen to those orphans', what does that mean? Val: It means I was the second worst thing to happen to those orphans. Blake: but what’s the first worst thing? *Awkward pause* Val: Blake, they...they weren’t always orphans. Blake:

-

Lynn: Must be hard not being able to laugh Val: I do have a sense of humor you know Lynn: I’ve never heard you laugh before Val: I’ve never heard you say anything funny

[lilxberry]

Hardly Burglar Material - Bilbo Baggins

Requested by: @donniethescienceguy​

Helloooooooo! Can I have a Bilbo x hobbit wife reader where after Thorin insults him (in the beginning when he arrives) she defends him and Thorins like: are you sure it’s the male Baggins we want?

I mean, I still did as what was requested but man, did I not know where tf this was going lmao

I followed quite a bit of the manuscript of the film, the only alteration is when reader confronts Thorin

Warnings: Nothing really. Asshole Thorin. Terrible writing lmao. 

Words: 1,796

Pairings: Bilbo Baggins x Reader (female reader) (wife!reader)

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You hadn’t expected your quiet evening meal with your husband to be interrupted but when a dwarf, a big, burly, tattooed, balding, towering one at that knocks your door, there certainly isn’t much you can do.

After the dwarf, who introduced himself as Dwalin, had entered your home and devoured your husbands fish dinner, to which you offered Bilbo your own meal, more and more knocks sounded at the door, each one miffing your husband further and further until he had finally had enough.

“There’s nobody home!” he shouted as another sound came from the front door, arms holding up the abundance of weapons the two brothers’, Fíli and Kíli, loaded on to him.

You felt terrible, watching as your husband becomes frustrated, not knowing what to do other than spectate in concern.

He tossed the items down out of his arms as he stormed towards the door, shouting at whoever was on the other side. “Go away and bother somebody else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is.”

Bilbo closes in on the door. “I-I-If this is some plotheads idea of a joke,” he laughed in disbelief before grasping the door handle in his hand. “I can only say, it is in very poor taste.”

With that, he pulled the door open and in comes tumbling through the doorway a cluster of dwarves, all grumbling and whining at the other to get off of them. Bilbo and yourself, who stood a few steps behind, looked down at the mess of moving bodies on the floor before his feet, dumbfounded expressions on both of your faces.

Movement behind the pile up caught both yours and Bilbos’ attention, and once the tall figure bent down ever so slightly to reveal himself, your face twisted into that of utter confusion as your husband sighs in exasperation.

“Gandalf.”

_______________

Although you were concerned for your husband, you couldn’t help but find the whole situation quite amusing. You found some of the dwarven folk that had invaded your shared home to be quite a fun, entertaining bunch.

Of course, you were concerned about the possessions within your home, hoping that the dwarves leave your home relatively untouched and that your husband wouldn’t have some sort of mental breakdown.

Your uninvited guests had pillaged the pantry of its food. The race of dwarves certainly did have quite an appetite. Even Gandalf had nibbled on quite a bit of food.

The rowdiness of the dwarves had calmed slightly, if only for moment when they downed whatever drink they had. Even the ridiculous and frankly disgusting belching afterwards was calmer than their initial arrival.

Yet that was quickly replaced with plates, platers, knives, forks, and spoons were tossed from one dwarf to another as they sang a merry tune. Bilbo was quick with demanding caution and for things to be put down. Even you were slightly worried for your kitchen utensils.

The dwarves released hearty laughter when you and Bilbo peered into the kitchen and had seen that everything was clean and stacked, Gandalf chuckling along with them as both you and Bilbo simultaneously release sighs of relief.

Then, the atmosphere became tense as three, loud knocks sound at your front door for a final time that night.

The laughter died out instantly and Gandalf spoke quite ominously. “He’s here.”

_______________

You couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly was unsettled you so much when it came to the dark-haired dwarf who sat at the head of the table. Maybe his stature. Possibly his stoic expression.

Most likely the look behind his eyes.

Well, you certainly didn’t like him all that much whenever he addressed your husband.

Most of the conversation between the dwarves and Gandalf became muffled when reaching your ears, certainly seeing no point in listening in on their talk. The second your husbands voice rang out through the room though had piqued your interest and your attention was brought to the conversation.

They spoke of The Lonely Mountain, the dragon Smaug, how they were on a quest to reclaim their home. Gandalf had produced not only a map of some forts but a key, a key the dwarves seemed to become quite excited about.

You also happened to admire the young dwarfs’ courage. Ori.

Then, the topic of a burglar arrived.

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori spoke.

“Hmm, and a good one too. An expert I’d imagine.” Bilbo moves back from peering down at the map, holding on to his suspenders.

“And are you?”

Bilbo glances around to behind him before looking towards the dwarves once more. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert!” Oin spoke cheerily. Of course, the dwarf with the horn to aid his hearing would say as such.

“Me? No, no, no, no, no,” your husband started, eyes darting to each dwarf, hoping his point would get across. “I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

You nodded your head in agreement. As much as you love your husband, he is quite the stickler for following rules.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins,” Balin was next to speak. “He’s hardly burglar material.”

You supressed a chuckle as Bilbo, although relieved that someone agreed, looked the tiniest bit offended.

The group of dwarves began to chatter and raise in volume, no words could actually be comprehended by yourself, it all a jumble of noises. Then Gandalf raised out of the seat slightly, his voice booming over the racket the dwarves created.

“ENOUGH! IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR,” he lowered his voice with each following word. “Then a burglar he is.” Bilbo looked as if he wanted to protest but no words left his mouth.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet,” he continued. “In fact, they can pass by unseen by most if they chose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to them which gives us an distinct advantage.”

The whole discussion about your husband was unnerving for you. You disliked how your husband was talked of like a ploy in some silly game.

“This quest is no place for gentlefolk.” Thorins’ tone was as if the words left a vile taste in his mouth, clearly showing his disgust for your husband. “He probably wouldn’t last 5 miles away from his precious little home. Look at him, Gandalf! He isn’t made for such things, it’s as clear as day. His big feet and rounded belly would slow us down. Your little Hobbit would cry out for home within a day.”

Your blood boiled with each word he spoke, an anger rising in you which you desperately tried to keep down. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and your jaw was clenched tightly shut, but enough was enough.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY HUSBAND LIKE THAT?! NO LESS WHILST YOU ARE IN HIS HOME AND IN HIS PRESENCE!”

Your outburst caught the attention of every soul in the dining room around the table. Their eyes settled on your figure that stepped closer and closer to them up to the point where you stood glaring down at Thorin right beside his seat. Even Bilbos’ eyes were wide and looked almost ready to pop right out of their sockets.

“My husband may not be a fighter like you…you BRASS DWARVES! But he deserves no less respect. I will not stand for someone speaking down on my Bilbo in such a manner, even if they are some king,” you all but spat out.

Some of the dwarves looked offended that you spoke to their leader in such a way, others looked thoroughly shocked, surprised that a small thing as yourself had such a fire in you. Gandalf smirked as Bilbo looked like he genuinely feared for your safety. He had witnessed outbursts from you that scared him before, which were quite rare, you barely losing your temper, but for once, he was terrified of the consequences seeing as it wasn’t at him nor a fellow Hobbit.

But it was Thorins’ reaction that had you confused. He seemed…impressed?

Thorin turned towards Gandalf, a smirk of his own forming on his face. “Are you sure it was Mister Baggins you had wanted to join our quest?”

Gandalf chuckled and looked towards you and your husband, you now joined your side, who was silently scolding you with his eyes but nonetheless remaining the concerned, dotting husband. “I was certain on Mister Baggins being the 14th member of your company, but I would highly recommend you take a 15th as I believe Misses Baggins certainly has something of her own to bring to the quest.”

“They both have a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including themselves. You must trust me on this,” Gandalf finished.

Thorin looked at Gandalf and Gandalf at he for a moment, Thorin evidently mulling it over within his head before finally, he spoke. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. Give them the contract.”

Both yourself and Bilbo began to protest as Balin produced the document. He handed it over to Bilbo who unravelled the parchment and began to scan over the words, your eyes peering over his shoulder to read it for yourself.

As Bilbo and you busied yourselves with reading over the document, Thorin had leant over towards Gandalf to whisper within his ear. “I cannot guarantee their safety.”

“Understood,” Gandalf hummed in acknowledgement.

“You’ll be left responsible for their fate.”

“Agreed.”

Bilbo began to read aloud the text, brow furrowed out of concentration, your own face screwed up slightly, straining to peer at the words.

“Terms; cash on delivery up to but not exceeding 1 14th for total profit, if any. Seems fair, uhh-“

“Shouldn’t it be changed to 1 15th if I were to join?” you questioned aimlessly.

Bilbo nodded his head in agreement before continuing. “Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a government, thereof including but not limited to; lacerations. Evisceration?” He unfolds a piece further, reading before looking towards the group with a look of disbelief. “Incineration?!”

“Oh, aye. It’d melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur quipped with ease.

Many more ‘encouraging and reassuring’ words were spoken by Bofur, unnerving both yourself and Bilbo, though you hid it extremely well. The moment your husband passed out, was when Bofur seemed to finally relent.

“Oh dear.” You looked towards your husband laying on the floor unconscious with concern before turning towards the others with a worried expression.

Valar forbid you allow him to go with those dwarves and that conniving wizard alone.

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I mean, I don’t really have anything to say sooooo

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

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LOTR / The Hobbit taglist:

@iwazoomingouttahere​ 

[nott-emotionally-stable]

Professor Widogast stumbles into his classroom one particular Monday morning, silencing the murmurs of "if he's more than 15 minutes late, we're legally allowed to leave!" Well, he presumes that's what they're saying; his ears are still ringing from last night.

He gives his students a quick logical puzzle as a warm-up. However, more than a few moments later, the kids are all still gaping at him. Caleb doesn't blame them; it's not every day that your teacher comes in looking like a human punching bag. There's gashes still visible on his neck and hands, and his body is basically one big bruise. Even Caduceus’s healing paired with a long rest wasn't enough to fully restore him.

"Aright," he sighs, resigned. "Who has questions?"

Every hand in the room shoots up simultaneously. Caleb feels an amused smirk pulling at his lips- at least they're curious.

"Wonderful. Once you complete the warm-up, you may bring it up to my desk and ask one question each."

The sound of pencils scribbling across paper fills the room. The children start quietly muttering to one another, some discussing the problem, most discussing their teacher. Caleb rests his eyes for a moment. Ohhh, that feels nice.

It feels like not a moment later when his trance is broken by the sound of confident footsteps and something being placed on his desk. Without opening his eyes, he responds, "Yes, Elise?"

An assertive, yet slightly squeaky voice answers back. "How'd you get so hurt?"

"I got into a fight last night." He says matter-of-factly.

The room bursts into sounds of disbelief. "No way!" one boy exclaims, as another one shouts "I told you!" Caleb peeks his eyes open and sees a few hands exchanging some copper, as twenty students start demanding more answers out of him. Caleb allows the volume of the room to rise a little longer before trying to regain some control.

"Please calm down everyone, I do not need the other teachers angry with me. In fact, I believe Professor Biesdorf is giving an exam right now, so let's tone it down a notch."

The students are not relenting, so Caleb decides to remind them of the rules. "I am not answering another question until there is another paper on my desk."

It helps a little. Some kids are too busy staring at him in awe to continue. They all must have assumed he slipped on some ice or tripped over one of his cats. These students are too young to have been taught of any of his exploits, so to them, he's just a stuffy professor who spends too much time in the library.

Another paper gets tossed onto his desk. "What did you fight," a boy named Otto demands. He's trying to act unfazed, but there's excitement sparkling in his eyes.

Caleb pauses for a moment for dramatic effect. "Someone I used to call a friend." Gasps echo around the room.

Not much longer, another paper is slammed in front of him. “Did you kill him?”

Caleb grins, “Ohhh, no. She’s much too clever for that.”

Soon enough, there’s a steady stream of worksheets being scattered around him, as his students congregate excitedly on the other side of his desk.

“Did you win, though?”

“Hmmm… I would say no.” Caleb squints his eyes faux-menacingly. “But you better not tell her that.”

“Who is she?”

“For security reasons, I cannot give her name out.” An uncontrollable smile fills Caleb’s face. “However, in this room only, we may refer to her as Fiona Fancypants.”

“Fiona Fancypants?” One girl manages to say through her giggling.

“Yes,” Caleb says with wide eyes. “And you better not underestimate her.”

“Why? What can she do?”

“She is not a sorcerer, and yet, she can create magic without a god, without music, and without a spellbook.”

“But isn’t that supposed to be impossible?”

“It is, yes.” (A/N: don’t come at me if i’m wrong, im dumb and its 2am)

“What kind of magic can she do?”

“I’ve seen her send large beasts to another plane of existence. I’ve seen her glue together petrified people and then bring them back to life. I've seen her deceive an ancient hag with nothing other than her own cunning and a moldy blueberry cupcake.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Now it’s Caleb’s turn to laugh in surprise. “No, but I do love her.”

“Then why did you fight her?”

“She betrayed me.”

“What did she do?”

“Yes, what did she do?” a deeper voice asks from the doorway. All the kids spin around to identify the unknown voice. There stands a dark elven man with curly black hair that sits at his shoulders. In his left hand he is carrying a brown paper bag. Caleb mentally kicks himself. Since he used up all his spell slots last night, he slept at the Blooming Grove with the rest of the Nein, and then he teleported right to the Academy in the morning. Which means he forgot to pick up his lunch from home.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet… Ussek.”

Essek, who has started making his way (🎵making his way🎵) through the classroom, momentarily freezes in bemusement. “Ah, yes. My name is... Ussek. It’s very nice to meet all of you. I’m sorry to interrupt, but even the smartest teacher in the world forgets things sometimes.” Essek places the paper bag on Caleb’s desk, next to the cluttered mix of papers. He picks one up and studies it with a serious expression before turning it around, revealing it to be nothing more than a series of scribbles. “Hard at work, I see,” he says in the driest of voices.

“Yes, well thank you for the reminder. We were all just getting back to our seats.” Caleb gives his class a pointed look. The kids all groan as they return to their spots. They watch closely as the two men turn away from them, speaking in hushed voices.

“So what did Fiona do?” Essek teases with a quirk of the eyebrow.

“... It was a complicated-”

“She challenged your word in Scrabble again?”

“Yes! Every time we play!”

“And you responded by attacking her?” Essek asks dubiously.

“What do you think?” Caleb retorts.

“That she attacked you?”

“Ah, at first it was just Thaumaturgy, but then it… escalated.”

“Well, do not worry. Next week, I’ll be there to protect you.”

Caleb looks at the ceiling and sighs, a smile dancing on his face. “I am going to ignore the insinuation there, and just say that everyone missed you at family dinner.”

Essek mirrors his boyfriend’s easy smile. “Of course they did. I do float, after all. Now, you better return to your students before they figure out my identity and rat me out to the Bright Queen.”

And Caleb most certainly does not blush, because there is no way his super hot boyfriend just made him forget that he’s supposed to be in the middle of a lesson.

Essek holds Caleb’s gaze as he does a quick series of hand motions and vanishes. Caleb just rolls his eyes as he turns back to his class, because he knows Essek just Dimension Door-ed into the hallway to impress the kids.

And it worked. The entire class has their mouths agape once again. Except for one terrified-looking child in the back of the room, who has his hand up.

“Yes Charlie?”

“Is Fiona Fancypants still looking for you?”

Schiesse. It was not Caleb’s intention to traumatize any children, so he shakes his head and responds, “Do not worry, she is on a boat right now on the other side of the world. She has no idea where I am.”

And indeed, Jester is sitting on the deck of The Nein Heroez on the other side of the world. However, at this moment, she is giggling through her scry spell as she’s describing all of this to her own boyfriend. (“He looks sooooo fucked up right now, Fjord, you have no idea.”)

[earthlyyan]

Little Trainee (Platonic(?)Yan! Childe x Reader)

For @bye-bye-sunbird (thanks again for your help) Warnings: Abuse, Graphic descriptions of violence, Implied Torture, Eye Trauma, Unhealthy Sibling relationships, Childe being a sadist, Kidnapping? If you squint? Imprisonment? Betrayal 

Word Count: 3084

________________________________________________________________

He was gone.

Tartaglia held his younger brother’s fur-lined cap in his calloused hands, bringing it close to his chest. He’d taken off without it, wanting to be as far away from the killer that was his big brother so badly, he’d neglected to dress for the cold.

Despite his best efforts, Tartaglia had been unable to find him, and though tempted, he had refused to get the Fatui involved. It would further remind Teucer that his brother’s job was a terrifying one, too dark for the mind of a child to fully grasp. A child’s mind would never truly grasp why he had to kill, only that he had taken the life of another. And how that was an unforgivable sin.

He’d requested a day off work to prevent him from making any rash decisions on duty. He’d spent the day wandering aimlessly, desperately trying to gather his thoughts. He’d found himself in the familiar shambles of Dunyu Ruins. Perhaps he’d take out his frustrations on some ruin guards, or at least he’d considered it, until he saw you.

*

In and out and in and out.

Your sword found its way into the ruin guards eye again and again. It had been dead after the first thirteen stabs, but you didn’t care.

Your thrusts were becoming harder to maintain, your shallow breaths and sore arms halting your rage filled pursuit. Your legs straddled its large, heavy body, thick vines restrained its arms and legs.

It killed him. It killed your brother. The laser sliced his body while simultaneously cauterizing the wound, leaving him in two, unable to bleed. His face still frozen in that of agonizing pain.

It was going to kill you as well until a blinding green light appeared before you; a dendro vision.

You didn’t know how you did it, but now it was dead, and the gift of the archons laid on the ground before you. You hated it.

A gift of the gods, what a fucking joke.

You choked back the urge to vomit at the rancid scent before removing your sword from the gaping glass wound.

You kicked the hunk of metal as hard as you could before losing your balance and falling back onto the ground.

A man stood there; a couple years older than you. You’d fallen right at his feet.

He wordlessly helped you up off the ground before clearing his throat, as if to clear the air with it.

“You know, I’ve never seen someone receive a vision before.” His voice was light and airy. “I had been walking when it’s light blinded me. I regret not showing up sooner.”

You refused to look at the strange man, his words not registering. Your mind was too busy trying to process what had just happened.

“Hey,” His voice was louder, shaking you from your stunned stupor. He held out a handkerchief from his pocket. “You should probably get out of—”

“He’s dead.”

The man’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry?”

“That thing killed him. He’s dead.” Your words were empty. You contemplated if you should be feeling anything else other than thinly veiled anger and disgust. You should’ve been sadder. The only thing you had felt at the time of you mindlessly stabbing the guard was desperation for your own survival, and fear that it would get up again. You were revolted at the sight of the corpse before you, but you weren’t terribly torn up about the death in itself. And that disgusted you.

Anyone else would’ve been. Anyone would’ve been devastated if they had watched their own kin get cut in two. But no, you were more worried about what you’d tell your mother.

You walked over to the remains of your brother and poked it with your foot, your blatant disrespect for the dead caught the man off guard. Your gut did flips in your stomach at the gruesome sight.

“You don’t seem too upset about it.” He seemed to lack the same feeling of fear at the sight of a corpse. You didn’t quite know how to feel about that. “Though, you don’t seem like you’ve got the guts to orchestrate it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He laughed. “The way you kept stabbing the poor ruin guard made me think it was self-defense, and that the death was an accident. But the fact that you’re not devastated at his death made me wonder that you did it intentionally.”

“And if it was?” “Then I think I’d applaud your ambition.”

*

The man introduced himself as Childe, a member of the Snezhnayan organization called the Fatui. He claimed to be a warrior of sorts, and that he had gone to Dunyu Ruins to take out some frustrations he had one some ruin guards. He then had stumbled across you stabbing a lifeless robot corpse.

He had treated you to lunch in Liyue, saying that leaving you to stew in your thoughts after witnessing something of that caliber was ill-advised.

“What were you doing in Dunyu Ruins?”

“My brother wanted to do something there. He wouldn’t tell me what it was.” You mumbled.

“And the sword?”

“The sword I have with me was the one he was carrying, but when his torso disconnected from his legs, his scabbard landed close to me. So I thought I might as well use it.” You stirred your soup with your spoon, not having much of an appetite.

“So why did he have the sword?”

“Archons know.” You sighed. “If I’m being frank, I think he was going to kill me.”

Childe lowered his tigerfish from his mouth. A light laugh left his lips, startling you. “What makes you think that?”

“I was father’s favorite, though I am the younger of the two of us. So when he found out he had left the inheritance to me instead of his eldest son, he thought it unfair.” You reluctantly brought the spoon to your lips and swallowed. “We had never gotten along; I was like a punching bag than his younger sibling.”

“And I suppose that’s why you’re not crying and mourning the loss?” His voice was mocking.

“Well, would you?”

Childe hummed. “I’m not sure, family is family, but…” his voice lowered into an inaudible mumble, pondering.

He was silent for a moment. He took a few bites of his grilled tigerfish. His eyes wandered to the scabbard at your hip. “You don’t know how to fight.”

“What? Where did this come from?” He hadn’t even finished his thought from before.

“The way you were holding the sword as you used it to kill the ruin guard was way off. Had you kept going, you could’ve gotten hurt. If you had held it properly you could still be stabbing it now. If you didn’t get that vision when you did, it could’ve killed you with how poorly you were handling yourself.”

“That’s the whole point of getting bestowed a vision. Saving you when you’re on the brink of death or something like that.” You shoved your spoon in your mouth again.

“Yes, true.” He sighed and set down the now empty skewer. “But if you hadn’t gotten it you would’ve ended up like—” “Okay jeez I get it!” You grumbled around the metal in your mouth. “What are you getting at?”

“Luckily for you, I’m quite skilled at the sword.” His chest puffed in pride. “And it’s not like you’re going to go home with half a brother in tow, yes?”

“So you want to train me? What good does that do you?” “I’ve always wanted to train someone in a weapon.” He smiled, though there was a tinge of sadness in his voice. Like he was looking forward to it before the invitation presented itself. “And now, I can.”

*

You were on the ground again, some shallow, superficial cuts littered your body, Childe’s blade inches from your throat.

“You left yourself open again. I told you this weeks ago and yet you can’t get it.” A disappointed sigh escaped his lips as he pinged the bridge of his nose. “Hunch, keep your legs apart, again.”

Some part of you wondered if Childe got off on hearing your groans and hisses when he slashed you. Something about the way he bounced on his legs and the way his grin seemed more genuine had you worried.

You slowly got yourself off the ground, your bones and muscles creaking in protest as you readied your brother’s blade again.

“If you’re sore it means its working.” His laugh echoed as he lunged himself at you again, leaving you a moment notice to swerve out of the way. “If you weren’t sore before it means you were doing it wrong.” He dodged an oncoming attack from your sword and swept your legs, leaving you on the floor again. Yup, he was definitely getting off on this.

*

Three months under Childe’s tutelage toned your body significantly. He seemed to be more eager to fight you these days. Saying that you were finally getting fun to fight or something like that.

“Despite your form issues in the beginning, you’re practically a natural.” He beamed as he extended a hand to you. “Fighting you is actually fun these days, and less boring.”

“It was boring before?” You were borderline insulted.

“Fighting against you was boring. Seeing you grow and mature as a fighter was interesting.”

“Uh huh.” You wiped the sweat from your brow. “Sure.”

He’d been gracious enough to let you room at his house. And for someone of his age, it was quite impressive for him to have one of this stature. You had your own room across the hall from his. He only had two rules when staying with him.

One: The lower levels were off limits. No matter what. He said that it had to do with his work, and that it would be unprofessional of him to allow someone to interfere.

Two: Don’t ask about his work.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about it. Sometimes he’d leave for days on end and come back beat up, other times you’d hear noises from the lower levels.

They sounded like screams.

You wondered what he’d have to do for a living to hear such noises from below. Sometimes he’d go down for hours and come up itching for a fight with you, other times he’d leave satisfied and covered in blood. You’d wondered if it was his own.

Something about it didn’t sit right with you, but a fight with Childe was not one you wanted to engage in. He’d know all your moves, considering he’d been the one to teach them to you. Whenever you’d try to bring it up, you’d be shut down with an uncharacteristic coldness from him. One that barely used, only when he was talking about his work, that is.

But tonight the screams were louder. They reached your room in the depths of the night, even with the door closed and pillows blocking your ears. You had to know.

You were sick of being left in the dark here, you were sick of hearing those screams from downstairs. You had to know.

Were you training under a serial killer? Childe didn’t seem like the type, or was he?

The strange amount of pleasure he’d get when watching you get hurt by his hand. The ruthless way he’d slaughter hillichurls and treasure hoarders alike. No matter who or what it was, its death was no different to Childe. It seemed to light him ablaze, having him itching for a fight with anything that moved, and when it stopped moving, he’d be disappointed.

 The screams had died down after a few hours. You had to wait until you heard his boots go back upstairs and into the room across the hall.

You had to be more quiet if you were going to get in and out of there before he noticed you.

After these escapades he would take a shower, the running water would be enough to cover your footsteps going down the hall, truly.

A minute after the shower started running you made your move. It was easy to pick out what door led to the basement, due to the sheer amount of deadbolts and locks keeping it closed. He’d left the key in the door, probably to stop whoever was in the basement from looking through the keyhole. Smart move for him when it came to living alone, but with company, it was practically begging to be used.

And use it you did. Deadbolt after deadbolt, you finally turned the key.

The basement was warm and sweet smelling. But not in the pleasant way sweets were supposed to smell.

It made your stomach ache and twist as you descended the staircase, closing the door behind you.

The clinking of chains got your attention before the sight of blood had. The lights had flickered on, illuminating the sight before you. You couldn’t hold back your vomit anymore.

Your suspicions were right, or so it seemed, with the sheer amount of bodies below. One was still living, trembling, and hunching away from you. “Did Childe do this?” You knew the answer but had to be sure. Perhaps it was an associate he worked with, or some weird fetish.

The man nodded, “I didn’t have enough money.”

“What?”

“To pay back the Northland Bank.” He stammered. “I couldn’t pay them back, so they sent him.”

“He’s a debt collector?”

The man shook his head. “No. He doesn’t care about collecting the debt, not like the others.”

There were others?

“He gets sent in after the warning deadlines are up. You pay with your—”

The man abruptly stopped, looking past you and onto the stairwell. Then he couldn’t see at all.

An arrow flew past you, barely grazing your ear before finding itself in the mans eye socket. He slumped to the ground, lifeless. You whizzed around to meet the source, only to find Childe, an arrow drawn taught in the bow you’d barely see leave his side.

“Well that’s disappointing.” He sighed. “I was hoping to make him last another day.” He grimaced. “That was a warning shot, by the way.” He walked down the stairs slowly, still aiming at you. “Put your back to the wall.”

He almost sounded sad. You were too shocked to move.

An arrow landed at your feet, standing straight up against the ground. “I said ­put your back to the wall. That wasn’t a suggestion.”

You tripped over the man’s corpse while making it to the wall. “Childe I—” “Nope, too late for that. Hands up.” He slowly lowered his weapon and made a show of putting it away. He wanted you to know he still had it. He leaned in close to your face. “Now that’s a look I haven’t seen in quite some time.” His voice was low, husky. “Betrayal looks so good on you.”

You could feel his hot breath on your neck. You growled and threw your head forward, colliding with his. He took a step back.

Blood ran down from his forehead, his eyes practically glowing with excitement. “Oh hoh~ Now that’s what I’m talking about. A real fight from you.” He drew hydro blades from his sides and threw one at you. “I’m expecting improvement from you, my little trainee.”

You picked up the cool blade from your feet, never breaking eye-contact with him. “I’ll kill you.”

“You better hope you do. For your sake, at least.” You lunged at him, swiftly finding your way behind him, ready to strike.

“Your stance has gotten better.” He smiled. “But I’m afraid it still leaves you open” He kicked off from the ground and into the air, his foot collided with your chin sending you reeling.

“You bastard.” You hissed, picking yourself off from the ground with the steadiness of a newborn deer. “Why not be more quiet about your escapades down here? If you’d had your victims quiet down, I would’ve never found about what you were doing.”

“I never said I never wanted you to find out what I was doing.” He ran at you again, slicing your shirt and your left shoulder along with it. “I was hoping you’d have enough faith in your teacher to follow my rules.” He sighed. “I didn’t take you for the curious type.”

“I’m not.” You said, you swept at his leg, but he narrowly escaped, jumping just high enough to miss it. “But I enjoy liking to sleep in peace knowing my upperclassmen isn’t a serial killer.”

“I’m no serial killer!” He laughed, landing a cut to your lower back, then stepping hard on it. You fell to the ground trapped under his heel. “I’m simply following orders. I have nothing against these people.” He pressed harder.

You suppressed a scream.

“I do have a problem with those who interfere. You were going to help him, weren’t you?”

You’d be lying if you said you were going to leave him to die.

“Weren’t you?” His voice was closer to your ear this go round.

“Yes! Yes, I was!” You sobbed. “I just wanted to—”

“I’ve heard this before. Suddenly you have the moral upright to save a dying stranger? But you sat back and kicked your brother’s corpse?”

“That was different!” “Sure it was. A man is a man is a man, yeah?” His foot lifted from your back and turned you onto your stomach. “See the difference between me and a serial killer, is that if I was a serial killer, I probably would kill you right now.” He sighed. “But see, I like you. So I think I’ll let you live. Though don’t expect things to go back to normal. I can’t expect you to stay quiet and continue your training in the open alongside me.” He leaned you up against the wall, easily fighting against your protests. He took your wrists and cuffed them to the wall.

The restraints were still warm.

You shuddered.

“See, here’s the thing.” He said. He cupped your cheek with his spare hand. “I don’t want to leave you the way you are, half trained. I do enjoy fighting you.” He finished tying you upright and smiled, admiring his handiwork. “I’ll let you go under one condition.”

For the first time since you’d met him, his smile finally reached his eyes.

“You’re free if you can kill me.”

[lightdancer1]

Second part of the draft scene from the Age Reversal AU:

It was another one of those days for Azula. The memories of the war and what she'd seen in the Siege, the memory of Lu Ten's death, it was all too raw, too real. Nightmares from when she'd closed her eyes, so she'd made a bitter tea that kept her up at night and left her sitting alone in a dark room.

She liked the dark, now. Darkness was safe. Darkness meant no sudden flashes of light and terrible roar. Darkness meant none of the headache-inducing artificial thunder that had been in that terrible clash with the magic of Earthbending for the walls of Ba Sing Se. Darkness meant no blood, none of the smells of war. No sudd-

There was a knock on her door. She sighed, quietly, and took her tray with her. Mina, no doubt. Her handmaiden was as good as a second mother to her and she was never duly grateful to her enough. She held the tray in one hand and then opened the door and there was a visible look of shock on her face. Her cousin she'd had dumped on her by Grandfather. And her little brother. Their faces pale and a look of visible fear on those faces.

"What happened?" Her tone shifted and so did her demeanor, becoming for a moment the veteran of the Siege of Ba Sing Se.

"Dad's going to kill you!" Her brother's voice spoke in a near-yell of terrified fear. She gestured with her head and Jiren and Zuko both stepped in. The room was still dark, darker than Jiren liked and with flicks of her wrist both torches were lit with flames.

"Zuzu," she said quietly, "whatever you heard, being too terrified about it won't help anyone. It was very brave and very foolish to listen in on the Fire Lord and Father in that audience. I am proud of you that you were able to do it and to get away with it." None of the worry and indeed fear she felt crept out in her tone.

"Zuko," he heard his older cousin speak, "if you want to hug your sister, go ahead. We were both there. I can tell her." She saw her little brother run to her and then grunted a little when he jumped on her and wrapped his arms around her. It was an effort to resist two years of honed military training but it was worth it.

Jiren told her the full story and she was simultaneously impressed and proud of them that they'd found the Fire Lady corridors and had spent the day learning to navigate them and horrified. Knowing she was a disappointment to Father hurt but was no surprise. She'd been sent to war for a reason and a girl was dead because she'd bared her heart to her, after all. Lu had been Crown Prince and benefited from some, though not in everything, favoritism from Grandfather when he'd gotten away with things.

She was the firstborn of the second prince and had no such luxuries. At first she'd thought it was that which lay behind Grandfather's grim offering, but it was-

Another knock. All three children in the room were terrified and did not bother pretending otherwise. Azula slowly prodded Zuko off of her and told him "Hold onto your cousin."

"It could be F-" she held up a hand.

"That's not his knock."

With trepidation and nervousness she went to the door. Mother was standing there, a poleaxed look on her face.

------

A few degrees ago, Ozai had walked into their room and sat down, hard. He'd stared into space in a long, slow stare. It was not like the times where his sickness could flare up and fire and fists lance out at anyone in vicinity. There was no tension, no predator crouching near the guttering fire waiting for its chance to spring. There was just a slackness.

"Ozai, love, what is it?"

He looked at her strangely.

"I made a bad mistake, Ursa."

He grimaced.

"I went to talk to Father about the throne. I waited four weeks. Fought my sickness but the Fire Nation cannot afford to gamble on my brother being absent-minded or overcome by grief if he sent our daughter here and did not show up himself."

He shook his head.

"Father told me if I am to know Iroh's pain at the loss of his firstborn I am to kill our own firstborn."

Ursa's hands went to her mouth.

Ozai took a deep breath.

"I know," he said. "I want her cured of her affliction, Ursa. Not dead. But it is the price I have to pay. I told Father that I would do his will. Of course I would." For a moment he stared at his hands.

"Even my sickness doesn't blind me to the knowledge that to tell him I would do anything less would be my own death as a traitor."

"No," Ursa said.

"Ursa?"

"I said no. We just got her back, Ozai. I'm not going to sacrifice her to that old man's vanity."

"What can you do about it, Ursa?"

Ursa's gaze was a cold one.

"For all practical purposes I am the Great Eye and Ear. There are many things I can do."

Ozai blinked.

"Ursa, that's treason."

Her gaze was cold.

"You should have thought about that before bargaining for a throne over Lu Ten's corpse then, shouldn't you?"

Ozai was silent and remained lost in his own thoughts. One part of him felt the stirrings of something others could have told him were fear and grief and worry. That other part, the part that saw where Ursa's actions would ultimately lie and what results would follow was the one that won out on his face. Long had Ozai internalized the words of his mother. Doubt-sorrow-grief-fear he could not show. But anger? And this?

His face was marked by a great rictus-grin, the kind seen on the joker in the deck of some playing cards. A grin, to hide all else, and the knowledge of what it was that his impulsiveness had unleashed. A drowning man clinging to a piece of driftwood while the Water Tribes' Lord of the Deep circled beneath him, maw preparing to open.

----------

It was with those words ringing in her head that Ursa stunned her daughter by giving her the fiercest hug she'd ever given her. Not the first, not even the hundredth, but one that would linger in their memories in different ways. Ursa shivered, and she heard her mother's voice speaking in her hear.

"I love you, Azula. I do. Your father told me what happened and what he said."

There was silence there and she saw Zuko and Jiren.

"Why-"

Azula whispered in her ear in turn.

"They heard. They came to warn me."

------

Jiren had had some physical affection from her cousin, the first touches she welcomed from strangers in....her entire life. The hug she got from Ursa on that day of days would linger in her memory a long time. It wasn't like what her mother called that, and there was no sign of anything else. Simply arms around her neck, and the words whispered in her ear that were normal words.

"Thank you," again and again, like the litany in an Air Nomad Sutra. Ending with "you were very brave."

She didn't think she was. She was playing a game with her little cousin and keeping an eye on him for her bigger cousin. Yet those words did fill her with pride.

Then she saw her hugging Zuko, the little boy clinging to his mother for security. She envied him more than a bit then (such cruelty in irony in how fate willed things for all of them in the future).

Ursa stood back.

"I want the two of you to act like today's a normal day." Her words were quiet. Jiren stiffened and the part of her that expected betrayal meant her limbs went slack, preparing to coil and spring. "If the Fire Lord suspects that out of all words to be overheard that these were, nothing good can or will come of it." The limbs went back into a more normal posture. Oh. OH. That's what she meant. She was....calmer, now.

"Won't be easy," she said.

Ursa laughed, a bitter and a dark laugh that surprised her. Sakura had left her scars but for the first time she saw something that made her afraid in a very different way.

"No, no, it won't be easy," Ursa said with sharp words.

"But it is a necessity."

"What will you do?" It was her voice that asked the question and Ursa looked at Zuko and mouthed at him to put his hands over his ears and hum for a moment. Nodding, Zuko did, listening to her as he always did.

"What I must do."

Nothing more was said.

[nnightskiess]

‧₊° 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐞 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

‧₊° 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐲/𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

Toni grabbed another handful of pebbles from the beach and played with them in her hands before throwing one out into the ocean every few steps. The sun was on full blast and started to hurt her forehead and thus she was on her way to the little cave that would shield her from the sun — the one she’d found on another stroll. She hadn’t run off this time, Dot had actually told everyone to wait until the sun was less vicious before continuing their work. Toni hadn’t felt like joining the others and apparently neither had Y/N, who had disappeared the moment Dot told them to take a break. 

God knows what Y/N was up to now that she had some free time. What would anyone even do on an abandoned island? No matter how hard Toni had tried, Y/N was a hard one to read. She wasn’t as open as the others and kept to herself most of the time, but never disrespected anyone, or treated anyone badly, for that matter. She helped out whenever needed and seemed particularly interested in staying close to Toni, no matter the situation. She hadn’t shied away or looked at her differently when Toni had had one of her anger outbursts and that, in combination with her silent glances and soft smiles, had somehow reeled Toni in. The next opportunity that would arise, Toni would for sure try and start a real conversation with the girl. So far, they had only exchanged ‘thank you’s and ‘can you help me with this’s. 

Toni threw the last pebble as far away as she could, watching until the ripple had disappeared. If only their problems on the island, and in the real world, would fade away just as smoothly. She sighed and threw her head back, trying to tame the curly baby hairs on her head and simultaneously hold a hand to her blistering forehead. This heat was no joke. 

She wrinkled her nose and squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to look at where the sun stood right now. Probably three more hours before it would take away some of its heat. 

Toni reached the small beach and sat down on one of the rocks after splashing some seawater in her face and neck. She took off her damp shoes and socks and buried her feet in the sand. Now that she was finally alone, her thoughts caught up with her and she suddenly realised how Marty had slowly started to slip away. Their friendship had never faltered before, so why would a stupid island suddenly be able to break them apart? If she didn’t have Marty, she would have no one. Sure, the others were nice, but if it weren’t for the need to work together to survive, she would be able to do without them. If she had Marty by her side, she’d be fine with whatever challenge the world would throw at her. Then there was Y/N, who seemed to be someone Toni needed around at all times, too. But if it hadn’t been for Y/N sticking around, would Toni have ever found that out? Probably, yes. Because even though Y/N was quiet most of the times, Toni always caught her eyes slipping and landing on the girl. She always looked at Y/N first when she made a joke, a suggestion or when she did something wrong— ready to see the judgement or disappointment, only for it to never show on Y/N’s face. It brought her a certain form of calmness she needed. Y/N’s smile would not only tell Toni that whatever had happened with the situation at hand would work itself out, but it would also soothe the many burns and scars Toni had gathered over the years.

Toni sat down on the damp sand and started to make random shapes in the sand with her hands, feeling more relaxed as she let her mind go blank. Moments like these were a necessity for her, moments where she could just walk away for a while and be by herself to not get riled up by anything or anyone else. But her mind couldn’t completely shut down this time, as it thought of Y/N. Toni was thinking of what to ask her. She’d been so quiet all this time, how was she supposed to know what topic to bring up? Y/N had never mentioned a favourite band or what she liked to do in her free time. Though Toni would never admit it out loud, this made her terrified to talk to the girl. What if she asked exactly that what would upset Y/N? Something that would spark up a bad memory, especially now that they all needed some more positivity and hope? She couldn’t mess up her first shot of a real conversation with the girl, she was too careful to scare away the only other person who seemed unfazed by her anger issues.

She let out a deep sigh, put on her shoes again after dusting off the sand and decided to walk a bit further— she needed a change of scenery to get it out of her head. However, Toni didn’t get far when her breath hitched at seeing the sight in front of her. She saw Y/N, at least she thought it was Y/N, seeing as she was wearing the same clothes, floating in the ocean a few meters off the coast, face down. Toni’s heart sank to her stomach and she was sure her sunburned face was as white as a ghost right now. 

“Y/N!” 

She sprinted into the ocean as fast as she could, though her shoes sunk into the sand with every step. The girl still face down, floating around. Toni swam the last part and closed their distance, immediately grabbing the girl’s upper body to try and turn her around— to let her breathe. She had expected Y/N to stay unconscious, having to carry her out the water, but the girl gasped loudly and moved her arms and legs around frantically, frightened by the surprise. Toni’s eyes widened as she let go immediately, unsure of what the hell was happening. 

Y/N removed the pink goggles on her face and looked at Toni with the same wide eyes,

“Toni?!”

“Are you okay?!”

The two had now drifted more to shore, where they could stand just on their tippy toes.

“What’s wrong?”

Toni furrowed her eyebrows, “What’s wrong? I thought you had fucking died!” Her voice cracked as she raised it.

“O-Oh...” Y/N looked down for a split second, enough to make Toni panic she had scared her off, too. “I was just trying to stay still to look at the fish...”

Toni’s frown disappeared and she smiled softly at the girl, realising there was nothing to be worried about, “You scared the living hell out of me, fuck you.” She let out a breathy chuckle. 

Y/N presented her with an apologetic smile and offered Toni her hand to help her out of the water. 

“Sorry... Thanks for trying to save me...”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m glad you had fun, though.” She tilted her head to get a better look at the girl.

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, “Well, up until you scared me, I did. I thought you were some sea creature or something.”

“Yeah, for good reason.” Toni smiled, “I could’ve been. Please be careful next time, yeah?” 

“Okay.”

“So...” Toni chuckled softly, readjusting her wet shirt, partly also because she suddenly became too nervous to say something else and decided to let Y/N take the lead, hoping she could get away with messing with her shirt a tad longer. She crossed her fingers the girl would say something that Toni knew a thing or two about.

Y/N gave Toni a sheepish smile when they locked eyes and looked back at the sea for a split second, “You know, I used to go snorkeling with my parents when we went to Egypt once. In the Red Sea, have you heard of it?” 

Toni hesitantly shook her head, cursing at herself for not paying enough attention in class or she might’ve been able to talk along. 

“Should I tell you a story about it?” 

The girl nodded softly as she followed Y/N’s lead and sat down next to her in the sand. 

“Well, I used to be really scared of the sea— in ways I still am, especially in deep waters, but this depth is just fine— so my mom signed me up for a snorkeling tour with a few other tourists.” Y/N snorted and shook her head at the memory, “It was a nightmare.”

Toni listened closely, surprised by the new, more open Y/N that was unfolding right in front of her eyes. She had already said more than the past few days combined.

“I was too scared to go any further when the water reached my waist and I just waddled around through the water a bit, looking ridiculous with my goggles on. Mind you, I was nine... or something...” 

Toni laughed softly at the visualisation she made in her head of a little Y/N pouting in the water.

“When my mom found out I had spent the hour doing nothing while she’d paid a good amount of money for it, I got scolded so badly.” Y/N let out a soft giggle but Toni furrowed her eyebrows. Why would anyone scold a girl who was just scared? Even worse, why would her mom even sign her up if she knew she was afraid— it seemed like pure torture.

“She made me do it again a few years later and I must say, if it hadn’t been for the gorgeous instructor I was trying to impress, I’m sure I wouldn’t have gone any further than my waist either.” Toni smiled when Y/N tried to see her reaction. “And in the end, it wasn’t that bad at all.”

Toni cleared her throat, wanting to listen to her talk longer, “What did it look like? Underwater, I mean. With the... fish?”

“The water was so clear. There were a ton of different fish, tiny ones and larger ones, though I still tried to stay away from those.” She laughed. “Some had plain colours and others were a bright yellow or red. And so many different type of corals.”

Y/N’s voice died down, and she looked at her lap, thinking of the distant memory that seemed so far away now, and not only because of the years that had passed. Toni noticed the change in character immediately and bumped the girl’s shoulder in a playful manner, “Did you find that here too before I tried to save you?”

“No.” Y/N looked at her, “Not even close.” She suddenly seemed to realise how close the two of them were sitting and refused to look into Toni’s eyes, growing very conscious and nervous. “But I just wanted to clear my head and feel like I was in Egypt for a moment, not in this terrible nightmare.”

“Yeah, I get that...” Toni mumbled in response. “I was actually... trying to do the same thing, you know? Take a walk...” 

“Did it work?”

“Not really.”

Y/N hummed in reply and stared out at the horizon, hoping to see a lifeboat sail their way. But the horizon was empty and dull. The sound of the birds, trees and waves replaced their words as both girls sat in each other’s company. Toni looked at Y/N’s side profile for a few seconds, debating what to do or say next. 

“You know, I like that we talked.” She decided on saying. 

“Really?”

Toni nodded sincerely.

“I talked way too much, you barely said anything.”

“Didn’t even notice.” She shrugged, “I liked listening to you.”

“To my pathetic, poetic story about Egyptian fish?” Y/N rose an eyebrow and challenged the girl. Toni smiled slightly but remained honest, “Yeah. It distracted me from all the other shit for a while. So, thanks.”

Y/N smiled shyly, “Anytime.” 

A few seconds passed before Toni opened her mouth again, “You’re always so quiet. Why’s that?” 

Toni’s blunt question took Y/N off guard, though she did her best to quickly form an honest reply.

“I just... I don’t... I never had a great experience with friends. Better to not have them than get left out or hurt, right? Especially when we’re already in this... weird environment.” She decided to not brush things under the carpet.

“I suppose...” Toni shrugged nonchalantly, she decided against asking further. Besides, she was kind of biased, seeing as she often tended to choose to be alone, too. Then again, why did she stick with Toni when she didn’t want to have any friends? The thoughts made her head hurt and thus she started to absentmindedly play with the sand. 

“I’ve been on my own for years, I reckon I’ll survive another few days. Don’t you think?”

“You don’t have to be, you know.” Toni looked up and squinted her eyes when the sun blinded her. Y/N smiled genuinely, realising what she meant. 

“Thanks, Toni.”

They lingered for a moment in a comfortable silence.

“So, um...” Toni started, bringing her hands up to comb through her hair, “Should we head back?”

Y/N accepted Toni’s help to stand up and smiled softy, nodding in return. The two talked and laughed softly as they walked back to camp, both girls happy that they probably had just gotten a new shoulder to lean on.

[theanoninyourinbox]

Longstar Au Thunderclan Boogaloo

First, i’d like to thank all of you for your support of my au, I was really surprised at the support!  Seriously thank you!!

Second, some details I forgot to mention last time.  Cinderpaw still gets hit by the car, but instead of being forced into being a medicine cat, she genuinely enjoys working with Fireheart and Yellowfang.  Flamewish makes a bunch of jokes about how her brother stole her apprentice, but she’s just glad Cinderpaw survived.  And Longstar still gets kicked in the face by the rabbit, but manages to turn his head at the last second.  He still loses some of his vision, but only about half - as he ages it gets worse, but by the time he goes completely blind, he’s got a grandkit that helps him work through his struggles.

Anyway, onto the next part!

In the space between book canon, Longstar is out looking for a juicy mouse for his hungry wife, who’s caring for their first kits, when he’s caught off guard by the scent of dog.  To his dismay, he finds a ravaged dead dog with a large grey molly breathing her last nearby.  She rasps out for something in the dark, and passes.  Longstar looks around, and finds a terrified kit hiding under a nearby bush, bleeding from a paw.  After a rushed run back to camp, the kit is treated by Fireheart and Cinderpelt, and Flamewish scoops up the traumatized kit to snuggle with Swiftkit and Foxkit.  It’s quickly agreed he’s staying with Flamewish, and Longstar deduces he’s the Dark that the molly was referencing, and Dark-kit is officially adopted by the leader of Thunderclan.  Canon continues until...

 Swiftpaw comes to her father, worried that her problems hunting and anxiety outside of camp will keep her from being a warrior.  Longstar remembers a tale about a warrior who guarded the camp after an injury crippled him, and works with her mentor Mistlenose to get her up to speed on hunting, while working with Fireheart and Cinderpelt with her anxiety.  Foxpaw and Darkpaw join her to be supportive, and Darkpaw discovers a love of healing, leading to him apprenticing under Cinderpelt.  Canon continues until...

Ashfur!  He has zero romantic intentions towards Foxfur - for one, she’s his niece!  Ew!  Also he has a mate - Flyshadow, Frostfoot’s daughter.  They’re holing off on having kits for now, but are absolutely smitten with each other. Flyshadow’s brother Coldlight has a crush on Sandstorm, but with his selective mutism and shyness, he’s never told her.  Canon continues until...

Brambleclaw!  Foxpaw absolutely bothers the snot out of him, but he has a plan - he hates the leaders of Thunderclan, despises Whitestorm for betraying his old friend, and Longstar for usurping his father’s rightful place.  That's right, Brambleclaw is a Tigerstar apologist.  His mother and sister have no idea how much he idolizes his father, or that his ghost has been visiting him in the night.  His plan is to use Foxpaw to get close to Longstar, and eventually usurp the old foxheart Whitestorm, then murder Longstar and return Thunderclan to a pure, kittypet free clan, feared by the other clans.  So he puts up with her, hoping to get closer so he can enact he and his father’s plan.  Canon continues until...

The new Prophecy!  Fireheart has a vision of a flaming cat and a shadowy tiger. and Foxpaw starts having strange dreams.  She meets up with the others, with Brambleclaw following behind, claiming she needs “a real warrior” to back her up.  Tawnypelt is happy to see her brother, but a bit suspicious - he seems like he’s hiding something.  Foxpaw and the older Crowpaw bond over their status as apprentices, and after a while, Crowpaw opens up about his phobia of water.  He tells Foxpaw and a supportive Feathertail about his adoption into Windclan, and how the first thing he can remember is drowning, and then being dragged out of the water by twolegs.  He fled, and was found wandering Windclan by Deadfoot, and adopted.  The three create a strong friendship, which continues canonically until...

The Tribe! Feathertail is still the silver cat of the prophecy, but survives just barely, breaking her back and becoming paralyzed.  Stormfur promises to come back for her, plus he still falls for Brook.  The rest of the gang continues on by canon until...

The trapped cats and Shrewpaw!  Sandstorm is the one who gets driven off instead of Graystripe, and the clans all mourn her as if she died.  Shrewpaw manages to yeet himself farther than canon, getting clipped on the hip and spun across the road.  He drags himself back to Thunderclan, pheasant clenched in his mouth.  His hind leg never fully heals, but he throws himself into cat-physical therapy with Cinderpelt to get back on his feet. Canon continues until...

The return!  The cats are greeted lovingly by their families if not the rest of their clans, and Foxpaw and Crowpaw become Foxflight and Crowfeather.  Shrewpaw, now Shrewleg, and Ashfur help Foxflight mourn for Sandstorm, her mentor.  Brambleclaw sees this, and feels a surge of jealousy - that’s HIS Foxflight, his pawn!  But he holds it together, fake consoling Whitestorm.  Canon continues until...

The elders!  Mudfur is still ill, and Frostfur, Speckletail, Loudbelly, and Shadepelt decide to stay with him.  However, Flamewish insists in giving them a chance, and convinces them to go to her previous Twolegs home, where they’re taken in and cared for like kittypet royalty by the twolegs and their neighbors, as they deserve.  Canon continues until...

Smokepaw falls!  Russetfur spots him clinging desperately to a root, and Mudclaw bravely climbs down, retrieving the terrified apprentice from his certain doom.  Everyone breathes a sigh of relief.  Canon continues until...

The Tribe again!  Graystripe is reunited with Feathertail, who’s flattered by Crowfeather’s requested name.  Darkpaw has the vision of Spottedleaf, and the clans marvel at the Lake Territory. Canon continues until...

Hawkfrost and Mothwing finally meet up with Brambleclaw, but their conversation is interrupted when Mothwing spots Crowfeather, and thinks she’s seeing a ghost - but then Hawkfrost is like, wait, I see him too?  And Crowfeather is startled, but, do I know you?  And it’s officially revealed that Crowfeather is Tadpole!  A joyous, if slightly confused sibling reunion takes place, and Crowfeather gets to introduce his adopted family to his missing siblings!  The only one not delighted is Brambleclaw, furious at being upstaged.  But he feigns delight at the events.  Canon continues until...

The death of a leader.  Tallstar passes, but with Mudclaw at his side.  He begs his Deputy to treat the other clans with kindness, as he treated Smokepaw.  Mudclaw is fervent in his promise to be a better leader than he has been a Deputy. Onewhisker is seen talking angrily to Brambleclaw, but Brambleclaw dismisses suspicions by claiming to be trying to calm his fellow warrior down. Canon continues until...

The moonpool!  Darkpaw follows the spirit of Spottedleaf, and finds the Moonpool.  At the next half-moon, he’s named Darkmoon.  Canon continues until...

The Windclan Revolt! Onewhisker attacks Mudclaw on his way to becoming leader.  Things go mostly the same, with Swiftpool being saved by Crowfeather and the following Feelings Confession, but this time it’s Foxflight and Longstar chasing down Onewhisker.  He’s nearly crushed by the tree, but instead is knocked clear, breaking his hind legs and cracking him on the skull.  Mudclaw calls for the medicine cats, and when Onewhisker wakes later, he has no recollection from the start of the Journey onward, and professes no animosity towards Mudclaw. Now Mudstar chooses to spare him and he is confined to the medicine den until he heals. Canon continues until...

Way different romantic drama!  Foxflight and Shrewleg fell hard for each other on the Journey, and Ashfur and Flyshadow just decided to start trying for kits.  It’s too bad Brambleclaw keeps starting rumors about secret relationships.  They go nowhere fast, and Brambleclaw scrambles to keep a hold of his plans.  Crowfeather and Swiftpool keep meeting up in secret, and consider running.  During this time, Darkmoon finds out about the Tigerstar training program, and warns not Brambleclaw, but Hawkfrost, about the consequences of his actions.  Hawkfrost mulls over when he tried to drop a moth wing by the medicine den, but one was already there.  Canon continues until...

The Badger attack!  Midnight warns the runaways and they return, but not in time to save Cinderpelt.  Flamewish spots Crowfeather, does that math-circling-the-lady meme, and drags Crow, Swift, Fox, and Longstar into the den after the fight, and commands the nervous duo to spill it right now sO HELP ME STARCLAN!  And they spill it, the whole secret romance. There’s a moment of silence, then Foxflight starts the Traditional Thunderclan Threats to a Siblings Datefriend, Lonstar assures Crowfeather and Swiftpool he isn’t angry, while Flamewish demands details of the love confession, was it passionate?!?!  This leads to Longstar and Mudstar hashing out a deal - as long as their clans are at peace, the two can be in a relationship.  This deal eventually spreads to the other clans, allowing more cross-clan relationships. (Deadfoot is simultaneously disappointed and impressed by his son, Mudstar can’t stop laughing) Canon continues until...

The blood on the lake.  Brambleclaw snaps, and lures Longstar to the lake, where he’s foxtrapped.  Hawkfrost is visited in his dreams by Yellowfang, who yells at him to wake up and stop his idiot half-brother gET UP OR SO HELP ME STARCLAN!!! (Yes this is exactly where Flamewish gets it from)  Hawkfrost makes it to the shore as Longstar falls, and knocks Brambleclaw off the Thunderclan Leader.  The two tussle, and Hawkfrost frees Longstar, killing Brambleclaw with the stake. 

Sometime later, Swiftpool tells Crowfeather she’s pregnant.

And that’s it for the moment!  Next up, the Three, the return of Sandstorm, and Sol that smarmy heretic.  Thanks for reading, and I appreciate your support!

[mymoonagedaydream]

Only the Good Die Young (Part 3)

Summary: Before you could commit to a future with Bucky, you had to learn about his past

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x y/n

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Terrible language, anti-religious sentiment, harmful relationship with parents, smoking

Author's Note: Lordy, it’s a good job Billy Joel has such a banging back catalogue. This is inspired by the lovely ‘Just the Way You Are’.

---

Soft sunlight bled through the curtains and caused your eyes to flicker open. As they adjusted to the brightness, the slightly stained roof of the trailer bedroom came into focus. Memories of the night before slowly trickled back into your mind and you smiled to yourself, stretching your arms upwards. When you moved to spread them sideways across the bed, you expected one of them to hit another body, but both just dropped straight onto the mattress.  

You jerked upright, scanning the room for life. You were alone. Wrapping the sheet around yourself and scooching off the bed, you scurried through to the front room. Buck was probably just making breakfast or something. 

No sign of him.

Clutching the sheet a little tighter, you opened the trailer door, only to see that his bike was missing too. A mild panic started to set in as you were unable to prevent hundreds of depressing scenarios racing through your mind simultaneously. 

Why would he drive off without saying anything?

You gathered your clothes, dumped unceremoniously in a pile on the floor, and threw them on. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself down, but you couldn’t fight off the intrusive thoughts. The rational part of you knew that he’d probably just nipped out quickly, that he’d return soon, but in the back of your mind you couldn’t stop worrying that he’d got what he wanted and left for good. 

Why didn’t he leave a note or wake you? 

You spent the next fifteen minutes searching, pacing and overthinking, until finally, you heard a motorbike engine approaching in the distance. 

A wave of relief hit you. Maybe you’d overreacted a little. 

You were just scared. You knew that if this fling with Bucky went on much longer, it would grow into something with the potential to absolutely shatter you. It was terrifying to think how invested you were in a guy you’d only properly known for a matter of days. You couldn’t shake your mother’s shrill voice, incessantly warning you about him and his reputation. 

At least if it ended now, it’d be a little easier to pick up the pieces.

‘Oh hey.’ Bucky came through the door with a paper bag full of groceries. He circled an arm around your waist, planting a kiss on your cheek before moving to the kitchen. ‘I grabbed a few things from the store, figured you were probably tired of hot dogs.’

‘You didn’t wake me up, I would’ve come with.’

‘Ah you’ve never seen yourself sleeping. Waking up that face would feel like slapping a puppy.’ Chuckling, he glanced over, noticing that you were a little subdued. He squinted and smirked. ‘Were you worried?’

You slid your hands into your pockets, trying so hard to look relaxed that you probably ended up looking like a junkie in withdrawal. ‘Worried?’

‘Man, I can read you like a book. You thought I was gone for good, thought all I wanted was a roll in the hay, didn’t ya?’ He grinned and stopped putting away the groceries, instead moving over to you and placing his hands on your waist. ‘I mean that last part is true, but I thought I might as well come back for seconds.’

You smacked him on the shoulders, trying to suppress a smile. ‘Asshole.’

---

Bucky suggested the two of you drive down to the beach, get some fresh air to take your mind off what he called your ‘runaway boyfriend complex’. He was also completely beside himself when you admitted that you’d never been to the seaside- the church camp you went to every single childhood summer was deep in the forest, about as far from a beach as you could get.

After driving for a while you started smelling the sea air. Fresh and briny, you couldn’t stop pulling in lungfuls of it, drinking the scent like a thick soup. You watched over Bucky’s shoulder as the green horizon was gradually swallowed by blue, as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking.

He stopped the bike close to the edge of the sand. The weather was cool and breezy with clouds covering the sky, so the beach was all but empty. You surveyed the vast expanse of sand stretching in both directions.

You didn’t know why it took an intervention by Bucky for you to realise how much more there is to the world than god and grades, but you did know that you owed him a hell of a lot for doing it. 

Too distracted by the view and by your profound inner monologue, you didn’t notice what he was up to. He’d pulled his shoes and socks off along with his jacket, dumping them next to the bike. He only caught your attention when he raced out in front of you, shouting ‘what the hell you waiting for, doll-face?’ 

You quickly followed suit, undressing and running to catch up with him. 

The crisp sea breeze and the soft sand between your toes should probably have been relaxing, but the gradually closing gap between you and Bucky was making your heart thump like a bass drum. He slowed down and you took the opportunity to jump up onto his back. 

Holding your legs tight, he started spinning around, but you slipped from his grasp and landed flat onto the sand.

‘Shit, are you alright?’ He dropped onto his hands and knees over you, concern melting from his face when he realised you were laughing.

‘Didn’t realise you had such a weak grip, Barnes.’

‘Right, that’s it.’ He gathered you up in his arms. ‘You’re going in the sea.’

He waded in up to his knees, threatening to drop you whenever you tried to wriggle. It took some convincing before he let you down, and he roared with laughter at your reaction to the freezing water. 

After paddling for a while, the two of you went to sit down on some rocks. You brushed all the windswept hairs out of your eyes, your feet were tingling with cold and sand was making your thighs chafe, but the giddy grin didn’t shift from your face for a second.

Bucky took out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips, fumbling around in his pockets for a lighter. You considered for a second before hesitantly holding your hand out to him, silently requesting one. He looked down at it then up to your face, raising one eyebrow in suspicion. 

‘You ever tried one before?’ You shook your head faintly, a little embarrassed at your lack of experience. He smirked and pushed the pack back into his pocket. ‘Nah.’

‘Nah?’ 

‘Don't go changing to try and please me.’ He lit the cigarette and put an arm around your shoulders. ‘I like you just the way you are.’

Admittedly, you were semi-aiming for a Sandy-from-Grease type situation there, but it was probably a good thing that he shot you down before you embarrassed yourself with a phlegmy coughing fit.

Besides, you’d never been a huge fan of the whole change yourself to impress guys message. At least Bucky seemed to feel the same.

‘C’mon.’ He stood up and offered you his arm. ‘It’s freezing, let’s go back.’

---

As soon as you were both through the door, Bucky caught your mouth with his and moved your legs up around his waist, carrying you over to the sofa. Your back hit the armrest and you pulled him tight to you, toes curling in anticipation. His mouth moved down to your neck and your chest shuddered at the feeling of his soft lips and warm breath. You felt his hand snake up underneath your shirt, causing you to arch your back further into him. You closed your eyes, completely relaxing under his touch.

Suddenly, the trailer door swung open, hitting the outside wall with an almighty crash. 

The sound made you jump out of your skin. Bucky snapped his head round before swiftly launching himself off you. A heavy boot landed through the entrance, followed by two shaking hands fumbling around to grab the doorframe and heave a stooped, burly body through the gap.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Bucky was almost shouting at the swaying figure standing in the doorway. ‘I told you I was here.’

‘You didn’t tell me nothin’ boy.’ 

The stranger had the voice of a lifelong chain-smoker or an alcoholic who only drank kerosene, by the looks of him he was quite possibly both. You swung your legs off the couch and scooched yourself to the edge of the seat, readying for some kind of fight-or-flight situation, not that you’d be much use at either. 

The guest nodded towards you. ‘Who’s that?’

Bucky gestured his hand in your direction. ‘This is y/n.’ Then he turned to look at you with some kind of vague warning in his eyes. ‘Y/n, this is my old man.’

Ah. Shit. 

Old man gave a gruff chuckle, pushing past his son and stumbling to the kitchen. He coughed harshly into his hand for a minute before beginning to haphazardly rifle through the cupboards. 

Bucky rubbed his forehead, not wavering his gaze from his father. It was jarring to see him so stressed. If this situation was enough to make him freak out, maybe his father was more dangerous than he looked.

‘Not your usual type, son.’ You looked over to see the intruder propped against the counter, leering at you over a can of beer.

‘Don’t.’ Bucky’s voice was low, threatening. ‘Take what you want and go, alright?’

‘What’s the deal with this one then? Prison? Meth?’ He was smirking as he took a long gulp from his can, watching Bucky tense up and approach him slowly. 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tension weighing heavy in the air. The two men were face to face now, one still slouched, the other stood menacingly straight with his jaw clenched and shoulders squared.

‘She a hooker?’

Bucky swiftly grabbed two fistfuls of his father’s shirt and pulled him away from the counter, the half-empty beer clattering to the ground and exploding with suds. You felt foolish just sitting there, watching, but there was no way in hell you were going to intervene. 

‘You gonna hit me son?’ The intruder spat, his face inches away from his son’s. ‘Over a bit of cheap tail?’

Bucky stood firm, looking as though he was ready to crack the man’s skull against the wall.

‘Hey, you.’ The father turned his head towards you, chuckling and flashing a wicked grin. ‘I got a joke for you.’ 

‘Don’t talk to her.’

‘It’s one of my boy’s favourites, he loves it.’ He glared at you through glazed eyes. ‘What’s a woman?’

You just stared back at him, waiting. 

‘A life support system for a cunt.’

With that Bucky seemed to snap, spinning round and shoving his father harshly towards the open door. Unable to stay balanced on his trembling legs, the man stumbled backwards through the gap and landed with a loud thud on the grass outside. Bucky quickly jumped out after him, slamming the door, leaving you alone inside the trailer. 

You heard shouting and crashing, prompting you to jump up from your seat and cross over to the front window. The fight had moved by the time you drew the curtain back, you couldn’t see them but god you hoped Bucky was winning.

You didn’t know why, but in that moment the only useful thing you felt you could do was clean up all the spilled beer. Grabbing a fistful of kitchen towels, you knelt down and wiped them over the puddle, feeling hot tears welling up in your eyes.

You’d almost finished when the trailer door clicked open and Bucky stumbled back in, grazes on his knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. He didn’t look at you, just stumbled over to the couch and flopped down, head in his hands. 

You grabbed a cloth and wet it, moving over silently and sitting beside him. 

‘Let me see.’ It was barely a whisper, you had no idea if he was still volatile. 

To your relief, he dropped his hands and fell backwards into the cushions. It looked like he’d taken a firm punch to the nose, but it wasn’t broken. The worst injuries he had were on his knuckles, you hated to imagine what his dad’s face ended up looking like. 

He flinched as you pressed the towel to his hand, his eyes started searching your face. 

‘I didn’t want you to hear all that stuff. Not like that, anyway. Not from him.’ 

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You didn’t want to lie and say that his father’s words hadn’t upset you- hearing about his past from someone that actually knew him had just reignited all your worries. You knew people could change but, that much? That fast?

‘Would you have told me if he hadn’t?’ You muttered, keeping your gaze fixed on his injuries, avoiding his eyes as best you could.  

He chuckled. ‘Yeah, eventually I would’ve told you that I used to have terrible taste in girls and jokes.’

You didn’t react, causing his chuckles to fade awkwardly. He moved his hand up to cup the side of your face, gently shifting it up so your gaze met his. He squinted at you slightly, prompting you to speak 

You sighed. ‘Why are you interested in me, Buck? I know you said you like me how I am and everything, but I’m obviously not your type at all.’

‘I don’t know.’ The honesty of that hit you pretty hard. He stroked his thumb across your cheek. ‘I think we’re the same. Your parents chose the bible, mine chose the bottle, both of us got royally fucked up as a result.’ 

‘I don’t know if trauma bonding is a great foundation for a relationship.’

He bit his lip, his voice swimming with desperate sincerity. ‘I just want someone I can talk to, I’m tired of having some pretty face tell me pretty lies.’

‘I’m just struggling to see a happy ending here Buck.’ Tears were welling in your eyes and your voice was cracking. ‘We don’t have any money or support, I don’t even know if I can afford to go back to college.’

He pulled you into a tight hug.

‘I took the good times, I’ll take the bad times.’

---

Part Four

---

@shawnie--jo

---

[stubbychaos]

Rose Golden

Part 1 Part 2

Pairing: Paz Vizla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Your newest companion takes you somewhere safe and special after a long week of work so he can give you a thoughtful present. In the process, you learn that you’re not the biggest fan of heights.

Rated: T because Paz drops an F-bomb and there are suggestive themes regarding abuse and injuries.

Word count: 7,500 (I sincerely did not mean for this chapter to be so long and then I got carried away in editing--oops)

Warnings: There’s really none in this chapter, except for a brief mention of reader’s abusive father and a clumsy moment that leaves the reader with a bruise. This is honestly mostly playful bantering and adorable flirting between Paz and his nurse.

Author’s note will be at the end of the chapter! :)

You don’t expect to see the blue Mandalorian only eight days after he carries you home, but you can’t stop the large smile that spreads across your now healed lips upon finding him leaning against the exterior of the shoddy infirmary right after the sun has gone down. A few crimson rays of sunlight still linger and bathe the Mandalorian in a lovely glow, contrasting drastically with his dull blue armor and making it look as though he polished and shined it just recently.

He stands far taller compared to a few late night stragglers and you immediately frown when a passing Twi'lek hisses at him in a feral manner, though the Mandalorian simply ignores the rude gesture, deeming the offended creature as unworthy of his effort or time. It’s almost like watching a baby porg attempt to square up with a Wampa and you’re certain that the blue warrior is amused by the poor attempt at intimidation. 

You’re a little surprised that someone would willingly try to get underneath the massive warrior’s skin and you’re even more surprised when the Twi’lek sends a disgusting yellow-tinted wad of spit in the direction of your Mandalorian’s big boots in a disrespectful manner.

His blue helm slowly tips downwards and to the side to finally regard the much smaller Twi’lek and while he dons his sacred helmet, you find it amusing how he’s still able to convey an irritated glare through the guise of the thick metal. Without even saying a word or moving to stand taller in front of the Twi’lek, your Mandalorian somehow threatens him with a simple cock of his helmet and a massive hand moving to the handle of his smaller blaster. It’s something you find impressive and you suddenly grow jealous that he can exude such terrifying energy so easily.

As you watch the magenta-tinged creature give the Mandalorian one last sneer before stalking past him, you wonder why anyone in their right mind would find it a good idea to mess with someone with such a terrifying aura. Upon meeting him for the first time, you had been too afraid to even talk to him or even look into his shiny visor, let alone scoff at him or even think about spitting on his boots. You wonder if this is a typical reaction he gets everywhere he goes and you think it must get exhausting after having to deal with it for so long.

Does it bother him? Or has he simply resigned to a life of judgment and persecution?

You can’t even imagine displaying so much disrespect and resentment towards someone who had inflicted absolutely no harm or offense on you, though you think that the Twi’lek, nor many others in the village, are aware of the concept of manners.

His visor is dutifully scanning the streets and you beam the second it lands on you as you make your way over to him with a little skip in your step; you notice the small canvas bag he holds tightly in one hand and the way the fingers of his free hand loosely curl against his thigh. His shoulders, still tense from the silent encounter with the Twi’lek, deflate as he drops his helmet to regard you properly and you smile at the way he seems to relax at the sight of you, as if it’s something he’s been thinking about all day.

Perhaps he has, just as you have thought of him nearly every moment of every day since your last meeting with him.

No, you're definitely not infatuated with the massive warrior and everything about him.

Even though you’re obviously no threat to him, the way he greets you with a kind nod and a gentle rasp of your name has you feeling a severe depth of respect for the warrior. Selfishly, you ponder if you’re the only one outside of his tribe that he seems to tolerate, understanding that you don’t have any ulterior motives when it comes to his Creed or what he hides under that scuffed up bucket.

“I’m surprised to see you so soon, Mandalorian,” You greet him with a tilt of your own head, mimicking his own actions, “I thought it would be at least another month before I saw you again.”

His helmet cocks further to the side and you think he must be amused by your soft sentiment as his fingers flex against his big, padded thighs, “Did I not warn you that you would see me sooner than you would wish for?”

Your brows rise high on your forehead and you shake your head a little at the stubborn warrior’s smug inquiry, “And what if I wished for you sooner than the week’s end?”

"Then I would think you missed me or something."

The way he speaks is so gruff and nonchalant that you think he must be covering up something softer in his modulated voice and you can’t help but to smile at his unwillingness to show you any kind of intense emotion. His helmet lowers even more until his visor is eye level with you and you’re sure that he’s judging you through the guise of that irritating blue armor, though you simply ignore it and continue to peer up at the warrior with unrelenting sass.

Something that he seems to thoroughly revel in.

“You miss me, saviin’ika? Is that why you were dying to see me?”

“Perhaps I just missed having someone to walk me home to scare off all the bad guys,” You cross your arms over your chest as a knowing smile spreads across your lips and you shift your weight to one leg, “Don’t flatter yourself, Mandalorian. Cockiness doesn’t suit you.”

He makes a funny noise that seems to catch in his throat and you grin at him when you realize he’s trying not to laugh at your words.

“If I remember correctly--” He sounds utterly amused as he idly rolls his helmet around and you nearly cringe when you hear joints cracking in his stiff neck, “I didn’t walk you home last time--I carried you. ‘Was even nice enough to even take off your shoes and take out your braids, or were you too sleepy to remember?”

“I remember all too well.”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you’re suddenly aware of the thick braids currently tugging at your scalp and you remember how gentle and graceful his fingers had felt as he deftly loosened your plaits while you struggled to not fall asleep. Your tongue is suddenly heavy and fuzzy in your mouth when you think of how you’ve fallen asleep every night since your last encounter, longing and yearning for the pleasant, soothing touch of his rough fingertips massaging the soreness from your scalp. You try to remember the last time anyone has ever touched you without any ill intentions and you think of your mother, with such soft and tender hands that would gracefully part thick strands of hair before skillfully plaiting them.

The thought of a huge Mandalorian attempting to braid your hair nearly makes you giggle out loud, though you think he wouldn’t be too terrible at it since his fingers hadn’t struggled in the slightest against your intricate plaits.

Even though the memories of your mother combing and braiding your long locks is all but a faded memory, you’re certain that the blue Mandalorian’s touch had somehow been gentler than hers--caressing your cheeks and lips as though you were a jagged shard of glass that would somehow pierce his thick armor. Was he afraid of accidentally hurting you despite knowing you can take a hard hit to the face and bounce back like it didn’t even affect you? You knew you were quite small, especially compared to him, but he had reassured you during your last meeting that he did not believe you to be weak.

You suddenly wonder if the warrior fears you more than you had once feared him, though you can’t think of a rational reason at to why someone bred and born to not feel fear would feel it towards someone like you?

He’s still observing you intensely when you finally muster up the strength to speak softly, “I never thanked you for that--taking my braids out. My hair would have been a tangled mess in the morning if it weren’t for you.”

“You didn’t have to thank me,” His baritone drops the slightest and you find your cheeks growing even hotter at the gruffness of his modulated voice; you’re skin feels like burning coals as he continues to talk, keeping his shiny visor trained intensely on your face, “Your eyes are very expressive, saviin’ika.”

You lower your head a little, hoping that he doesn’t see how flushed your face must be as you speak softly and shakily, “Is that a compliment, Mandalorian?”

“Do you want it to be one?”

Pushing himself off the wall, he lazily closes the short distance between the two of you, stoic and calm as ever. You briefly wonder if he ever gets worried or stressed, but something about the way he carries himself so gracefully and confidently makes you think it’s not often others attempt to challenge him.

You give up on your prayers to the Maker for your blue Mandalorian to not notice the intense blush in your cheeks, realizing that he must have some sort of advanced technology in the damn helmet to detect the heat rising to the surface of your skin. 

He lowers his helmet until his metal chin is nearly poking your nose before he slightly tilts it to the side; you’re not sure how such an action could be simultaneously soft and intense, yet he somehow manages it and you suppress a shaky exhale when he reaches forward to skim the tips of his leather-clad fingers along the outer shell of your ear. The violet tucked there must be close to falling, because he plucks it away from your cartilage and deftly situates it somewhere in the thick braid that’s wrapped around the crown of your head.

Your own voice drops to a low murmur as he fixes another flower that you tucked in your braid earlier; you find it endearing that he seems so hellbent on making sure none of your vibrant flowers fall from your unusually tamed mane.

“What would you think of me if I wanted it to be a compliment?”

A noise that’s reminiscent of a grunt getting caught in his modulator has you smiling a little wider as he shakes his helmet at your harmless question, though it seems to have him utterly flustered as he speaks in a more rushed tone, “I wouldn’t think of you any differently, but if it is rare for you to be complimented, I wouldn’t mind doing it more. You… I think... fuck...”

He seems to grow slightly shy and you smile demurely at how captivating someone so large and intimidating can be so nervous with something as simple as giving a compliment; you think him to be an enigma, in more ways than one. 

“You think me to be what, Mandalorian?”

He shakes his helmet again and promptly changes the subject; you wonder if he’ll ever admit to you what he truly wanted to say--what he thought about you.

“I think you look well rested,” He observes out loud and you ponder if he’s smiling underneath that blue helmet as he swiftly deflects your gentle question, “Your injuries look a lot better as well. The bruising is no longer there and there’s barely a mark on your lip."

You grin up at him, eyes sparkling as you admire the way the moonlight reflects off of his blue armor, “Thanks to you, Mandalorian. I really did not wish for you to use that salve on me; I’ve had worse than a bruised cheek or a split lip.”

Immediately, you realize you should not have said that as his fingers curl into loose fists at his sides and you let out a tired sigh.

Why do you always manage to stick your foot in your mouth?

“How much worse?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” You murmur, avoiding the intense gaze of his shiny visor to stare at the geometric shape embedded into his cuirass instead, “It is nothing I am incapable of handling myself.”

“Do you not get tired of taking care of everyone and never having someone to take care of you?”

The tone of his voice is tender and something about the genuine curiosity of his question leaves you without any breath in your lungs, as if he’s some sort of thief. Nobody has ever asked you something of that nature and you’re certain it’s because nobody has ever cared like he seems to; you don’t find it fair for someone to feel such concern for you.

You suddenly feel undeserving of all the sentiments he’s showered you with, but you will accept them for as long as he chooses to tolerate your presence.

“I take care of myself, Mandalorian,” You inform him with a sad smile, shaking your head a little when his shoulders tense, “Always have and always will.”

“You need someone, saviin’ika,” He insists, gently grabbing your chin and urging you to look up at his visor, “Everybody needs someone.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you spot all of the scuffed up marks and divots in his deep blue helmet, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

You feel flustered and timid suddenly, realizing you’re just like him in the sense that you’re not used to expressing your own emotions and you feel impossibly small and vulnerable when he lightly squeezes your chin.

“Are you not my friend?”

A leather index finger grazing your jawline has you nearly coming undone as he speaks with that deep baritone, “I can be whatever you want me to be, saviin’ika.”

“What if I’m not sure what I want you to be?”

His leather digits lazily and dutifully skim the little valley between your chin and bottom lip, “I think you already know.”

His fingers move upwards to where your cheek had once been nearly the same shade of his dull armor, though it’s now healed into a light, barely-there yellow tint and you’re reminded of how he had taken care of you just a week ago. When you had first woke up after a few peaceful hours of sleep, you had initially thought you dreamt the previous night--him carrying you home and tending to your minor wounds with the bacta salve you had given him. Upon looking in the mirror when you first arrived at your office, you had been pleasantly surprised to find that the black and blue bruise had turned into a healthier shade of yellow and the tiny gash on your bottom lip was barely a scar. If you tried to imagine it hard enough, you swore you could still feel his index finger trailing up the apple of your cheek and to the tip of your ear; you swore you could still feel his rough, skilled fingers rubbing comfort into your sore scalp.

You had longed to feel his rough fingers on your face again and as a leather digit currently strokes the tail of your brow, you wonder if it would be hard to convince him to remove his glove again.

With an intense blush turning your cheeks a vibrant shade of pink, you ponder what else he can do with those fingers--those graceful hands.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you gesture to the canvas bag that he’s still tightly gripping in a large hand and clear your throat a little, though your voice sounds slightly coarse and wavering, “What’cha got there? Do some shopping in the marketplace?”

“Not quite,” He hesitates as he slowly lowers his helmet, his visor shifting between you and whatever is in the bag, “I want to take you somewhere, if that is alright with you. It's a safe place that nobody knows about."

You perk up, not wanting to go home and having to deal with your father’s anger yet, so you nod enthusiastically and immediately wrap your fingers into the crook of his padded elbow, as if it’s pure instinct at this point and you suppose it is. Though you’ve only ran into him three times, you think that after the night when he had carried you home and tended to your wounds, you would trust the Mandalorian to guide you anywhere on Nevarro, as long as he was there with you. Everyone always avoids the big warrior and you’re sure that if anyone attempted to cross him, he would deal with the situation swiftly and efficiently.

The Mandalorian is ever dutiful and diligent as he leads you in a different direction from your home and you can’t help but to scan your surroundings wildly as you two wander through the marketplace that's still bustling, even after the sun disappears and gives way to brilliant moonlight. 

Though most of the food vendors are selling some sort of questionable cooked meat, your eyes widen when you pass a stand that is offering all sorts of vibrant fruits and vegetables. Much to your dismay and embarrassment, your stomach growls and you can’t stop your head from turning to stare at the fresh food as the two of you continue past the vendor. It’s far more expensive than you’ve ever been able to afford, but nonetheless, you find yourself always checking the prices whenever you wander through the marketplace.

You don’t notice the blue Mandalorian observing the wistful expression painted along your features with a slight tilt of his helmet.

“About five miles west of the village, there is a small cave located at the base of the cliffs,” His deep baritone pulls you from your thoughts of fresh fruit and crisp vegetables and you curiously blink up at him, “Inside the cave, there are several hot springs that stay warm from the lava underground and flowers that light up the entire place. I want to take you there.”

“That sounds lovely and all, but five miles?” You feel bad that he’s going out of his way to do something nice for you and all you can think of is how sore your feet are from a long shift and your worn boots rubbing painfully against already formed blisters and bruises, “I couldn’t even do the half mile to my house last week.”

“Do you not see the jetpack on my back, saviin’ika? I wouldn't make you walk that distance after you've been on your feet all day; I am not that cruel.”

You immediately stop walking, your face growing pale at the mere thought of him bringing you high up off the ground and he must sense your intense fear and hesitation, because he immediately cocks his helmet to the side and promptly speaks up when your hand slips away from his elbow.

“What? You scared of flying or something?”

It sounds like he’s teasing you, a twinge of condescension apparent in his modulated voice, and it immediately makes you scowl at him because you have every right to be afraid when you’ve never had the option to travel off of Nevarro, let alone the galaxy, like he’s clearly had in the past. You forcefully remind yourself that most of the people in your little village are bounty hunters and criminals that get to travel for a living and that the feeling of being in the sky or in space was something he’d gotten acquainted with long ago.

“I’ve spent my entire life with my feet on the ground, Mandalorian,” You remind him with a harmless glare, craning your neck so you can properly look at his shiny visor underneath the pretty moonlight, “Of course I’m afraid.”

“You do not strike me as the type of woman to fear such things, not after everything you have already endured.”

You let out a petulant sigh, your cheeks puffing out in embarrassment as you narrow your eyes at the huge warrior and stubbornly cross your arms over your chest. You gaze at the silver tips of the jetpack that barely peek over the top of his broad shoulders and you can’t help but to wonder if there’s a possibility of the heavy piece of equipment malfunctioning mid-flight. Even though the rest of his armor is quite dinged up and a little rough around the edges, you think that his weapons and the jetpack look brand new, as though they’ve never been used before. His weapons and other pieces of equipment must be dear to him, you realize, just as your plants and flowers and the cuffs you wear in your braids are precious to you and you think he must take great care of them to keep them in good shape.

You’ve trusted the blue Mandalorian so far, so why do you fear the thought of him dropping you or his jetpack malfunctioning?

“Y-You’re sure it’s safe?”

“I would not let anything or anyone harm you while you’re with me, saviin’ika,” He holds out a large hand for you to take and you observe it warily for a few moments before slotting your fingers between his leather ones, “I know how my weapons and equipment work; if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be doing this.”

You smile softly at him and nod your understanding, “I trust you.”

“Come on,” He rasps, his voice a little softer when he carefully gives your hand a little tug and you let him guide you once again, “We need to get out of the village a little ways so I don’t draw attention with the sen’tra.”

You assume the word means ‘jetpack’ in his native tongue and you breathe out a soft laugh, “I think your armor draws plenty of attention, Mandalorian.”

He shakes his helmet, but continues to lead you to the outskirts of the noisy village, and you find that the silence shared between the two of you is a peaceful one, rather than an awkward one. Not known to be much of a talker, you’re grateful that the Mandalorian doesn’t really seem to expect a steady flow of conversation between the two of you, as he seems to do most of the talking. Though your feet ache from a long day of work, you find that the combination of his gruff voice and the firm pressure of his fingers intertwined with yours makes for a sweet distraction and you barely acknowledge the calluses and blisters covering your feet and ankles. He speaks mostly of the hot springs he’s taking you to and that the warm water will be good for sore legs; he briefly talks about his tribe when you shyly bring up traditional Mandalorian customs.

You listen and cling to every word closely, saving it for future reference so you don’t accidentally offend the blue warrior with oblivious words and naive questions.

It’s merely a twenty minute journey to the outskirts where most don’t venture to unless they have transportation, and even then, the rocky terrain and creatures that roam the barren lands are enough to keep most people inside the bleak village.

It was only another thing your father had warned you of when you had once attempted to run away when you were thirteen or fourteen; you hadn’t made it very far when he found you, completely lost and dehydrated miles and miles away from the village. Seeing the expanse of the barren lands now, you wonder what the hell you had been thinking as a teenager, thinking you could actually survive in such a harsh environment where there was no civilization for hundreds of miles; you were surprised you had lasted more than a day.

“Is something wrong?”

You blink owlishly, not even realizing the Mandalorian had been talking to you for a while now and you shake your head a little, “N-No… it’s just been a while since I’ve seen the barren lands. Not many venture far out the village without transportation and come back in one piece.”

If he notices the shakiness in your small voice, he decides not to mention it as he speaks.

“I won’t…” He lowers his helmet until the chin of his helmet is nearly touching your forehead and you shyly peer up at him through your lashes, “I won’t let anything happen to you--you know that, right?”

Even though his natural voice is distorted and disguised by his vocoder, you hear how genuine he’s being and you nod with a small, albeit nervous, smile, “I know. I trust you, Mandalorian. Just… please don’t drop me.”

The heavy-infantry warrior doesn’t say anything and merely nods as you reluctantly let go of his hand so he can wrap his arm around your waist, keeping a firm pressure without actually hurting you. Normally, the foreign contact would bother you and have you bursting at the seams, but you think that you don’t mind the way he holds you close to his warm body, like he’s trying to shield you from the horrors of this planet. You think that if you had someone to hold you like this every night for the rest of your days, you wouldn’t hold nearly as much fear in your heart that currently lingers there like a festering wound that refuses to heal properly.

Your breath catches in your throat as the Mandalorian’s clean and warm scent invades your senses and intoxicates you in the most delightful way possible; now that you’re not half asleep, you can actually appreciate the earthy scent that seeps through the cracks of his dull blue armor. Your cheeks are flushed as you wonder if he’s enjoying the close contact as much as you are--if he had hoped for this when he came up with the idea to take you to a place far from the village.

Instinctively, you stand up on your tippy toes and slip your arms around his broad shoulders, your heart racing at the thought of what’s about to happen. Your eyes barely peer over his taut shoulder and you hold your breath when he quietly informs you that he’s going to start the jetpack; you’re hasty as you squeeze your eyes shut when upon hearing the heavy piece of equipment come to life.

The Mandalorian gives your waist a comforting squeeze when you tense a little as he slowly takes off and you force yourself not to panic or open your eyes when you feel your boots slowly leave the ground. While the hand that’s gripping the canvas bag remains tightly wrapped around your waist, you feel his other hand come up to squeeze the spot between your shoulder blades. You’re not sure how high up the two of you are and you’re not sure if you want to look, so instead of gazing down at the rocky terrain that’s far below your boots, you turn your head up to peer at the shimmering stars in the night sky instead, admiring how they seem brighter and bigger the further you two make it out of the village. The moon has more of a yellowish tint to it tonight and appears larger than usual, but you think that perhaps being far away from the village and high up in the air has something to do with the lovely spectacle.

As cold air whips around the two of you, you find yourself grateful that you decided to tightly braid your hair that morning, though a few stubborn locks of hair escapes their restraints and lightly whips at your cheeks and forehead. You can’t stop yourself from shivering the higher he ascends, the atmosphere growing a little more frigid and you thank the Maker that you chose to wear longer shorts underneath your thin dress, the undergarments ending mid-thigh.

“See? Not so bad.”

You huff against his neck, still refusing to look down as you respond just loud enough for him to hear, “You wouldn’t be saying that if I threw up on you.”

His shoulders shake a little and you think he must be suppressing a bout of boisterous laughter as his arms tighten around you, though it’s not enough to hurt you or make it difficult to breathe. You wonder how often he uses the jetpack, especially if he spends most of his days dwelling deep underground, though something about the way he expertly navigates through the barren lands makes you think he’s incredibly experienced and well-trained in using the advanced equipment. He seems just as relaxed high up in the air as he does walking on land and you force yourself to keep your attention focused solely on the soft whirring noise his jetpack makes, along with how the constellations in the night sky grow more prominent the further he takes you away from the village.

You shift your arms around him a little, trying to get more comfortable against his metal chest; he must sense your discomfort because he easily hikes you up a little higher up his torso until your elbows are resting on top of his shoulders and your temple and cheek is lightly pressed against the side of his scuffed up helmet. The cold bite of the helmet makes you shiver a little harder against his chest and you try to focus only on the warmth that lingers between the cracks of his blue armor.

“Have you ever been up there?” You ponder so quietly that you figure he won’t hear it, though he turns his helmet a little to indicate that he’s listening, “With the stars?”

“It’s been a while, but yes.”

You suddenly have so many questions.

You want to ask him what it’s like to travel among the stars and if he misses it at all, or if he simply got tired of all the traveling and being away from his tribe for an extensive amount of time. Has he traveled to the Inner Rim? Or did he only stick to the Outer Rim where he knew it would be easier to find work? If you asked him to describe what the stars looked like as he flew through hyperspace at blinding speed, what would he say to you? Would he describe the constellations and scenery of different planets in great detail? Would he describe the colors of a catastrophic supernova? The shapes and vibrancy of different types of stars? Or would he merely shake his head at your childish questions?

You have all of these questions, yet one in particular has you speaking out loud against the side of his helmet.

“Was it lonely up there?”

He’s silent for a solid minute or two and you think that either he didn’t hear you, or he’s simply choosing not to display any vulnerability in front of you. It makes sense that he wouldn’t be willing to share much of his past with you and you don’t blame him for it, understanding that you two are similar in the sense that it’s difficult to speak of your feelings and traumatizing memories out loud. You wonder if his own memories haunt him when he tries to fall asleep at night and… wait. 

Does the huge Mandalorian even sleep? 

The only times you’ve interacted with him are late at night or some ungodly hour in the morning and you can’t help but to wonder when he finds time for sleep if he’s so busy providing for his beloved tribe.

“Yes,” His arm tightens around your waist and he turns his helmet in an attempt to gaze at you, though you know there’s really no way for him to see you, what with how firmly your cheek is pressed into the side of his matte dark blue helm, “I just didn’t know it at the time.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, thinking of a lonely Mandalorian navigating through hyperspace, all alone without the comfort of another, “What made you realize how lonely it was?”

You wonder if his own cheeks are burning painfully under that metal helmet as he reluctantly answers your question and you hope he doesn’t feel pressured to bend to your every whim or inquiry as you painfully crane your neck backwards to peer into the abyss that is his shiny visor, “I didn’t know at the time--what made everything feel so lonely--but now I think I know after spending enough time with you and seeing what your father does to you, how he makes you feel."

You tilt your head a little, obviously confused, “Wh-What do you mean?”

“I see a lot of my past self in you,” He admits, fingers lightly curling against your waist, and you think he’s making fun of you, “I didn’t have anyone and I found myself missing the tribe, but I didn’t want to believe that I was lonely and homesick. I see it in your eyes, how lonely and homesick you are as well.”

“What do you mean homesick?” His helmet cocks to the side as you continue, “You think I consider that little hut a home?”

“I think you long for a home you’ve never had,” He tentatively answers after a few moments of severe contemplation, “Like I said earlier, saviin’ika, your eyes are very expressive. Even when you smile, your eyes look sad and it reminds me of how I felt when I was traveling all alone.”

You move your head so your cheek is pressed back against the side of his helmet again, not wanting him to see the despair and loneliness that apparently seem to linger in your expressive eyes, “Is that why you showed up again tonight?”

“It’s part of the reason why,” The blue warrior concedes and it surprises you a little, as he’s usually closed off and so unwilling to expose himself to you, “I wanted to make sure that you were alright--that you weren’t hurt. I don’t... I don’t like seeing your face covered in bruises.”

You smile and slowly close your eyes, an unfamiliar warmth expanding in your chest as the thought of someone caring about your well-being lights your soul ablaze. Resisting the urge to kiss the light blue patch that’s painted in the hollow of his cheek, you settle on dropping your head so it’s pressed firmly into the bunched up fabric at the base of his neck before letting out a deep sigh. 

You hope that the thickness of his armor prevents him from feeling how hard your heart is beating for him--for the selflessness of his words and actions--and you wonder if everyone else in his tribe is like him, soft and warm underneath such unyielding and cold armor. Something about the violent and ruthless energy he exudes when dealing with others makes you think he’s not as unrelenting when he’s with his people and they probably don’t expect him to be.

If anything, painful headbutts and heavy fists thrown at one another is how they probably show their love.

You feel a little lightheaded as your blue warrior starts to slowly descend and you're grateful when you eventually see the rocky ground in your peripheral vision. When the worn soles of your boots are finally pressed against solid ground, the Mandalorian makes sure to keep an arm wrapped around your middle, your legs feeling like jelly and your body swaying a little from disorientation. 

Eventually, you reluctantly pull your head away from the warmth of his neck and slowly turn to peer up at him through your lashes, blushing at how close he is to you. He’s bent over a little so his visor is eye-level with you and you’re absolutely aware of the way his fingers are splayed wide on your hip, his thumb stroking comforting circles against the flimsy fabric of your dusty gray dress.

Is he aware of what he does to you? How frantic your heart is as it races from the way he holds you tenderly to his own chest, as if he wants to take you far away from the village and build a safe home for you inside of his own heart.

The strange tension only goes away when you speak in a breathy whisper, “Thank you for not dropping me, Mandalorian.”

“I would never do such a thing,” He reassures you and clears his throat before standing up straight so he’s towering over you again; he reaches up to slowly brush some unruly baby hairs away from your forehead and you hope he doesn’t notice the way you shiver from the soft gesture, “What kind of man would I be if I killed the only nurse in the village?”

His playful tone makes you giggle a little and you happily take his hand when he kindly offers it to you again. You’re a little surprised to find huge cliffs surrounding the two of you and you realize that you were so focused on the beautiful starlight the whole journey to the cave that you didn’t even realize he had been guiding the two of you throughout a deep canyon. The Mandalorian is patient as you gaze up at the enormous cliffs with admiration, not even realizing that such beauty could exist on a planet like Nevarro.

“I’ve never been this far out of the village,” You inform him with a breathless sigh, awe and wonder laced in your quiet voice, “I never thought the barren lands could be this pretty.”

“Not everything on this planet is terrible, saviin’ika,” He urges you towards the small, jagged entrance at the base of the cliff and you hesitate upon noticing the ominous abyss that would guide you two further beneath the planet’s surface. You watch as the blue Mandalorian calmly presses a button on his yellow-tinged vambrace, causing a bright light to emanate from the rectangular piece of metal attached to the top right side of his helmet.

“So that’s what it does,” You say out loud before you can stop yourself, earning a chuckle from the large man.

“What did you think it was for?”

You shrug as you let him pull you into the entrance of the quaint grotto, “Decoration?”

The boisterous bark of a laugh he lets out warms your heart and has you grinning as you forget about the fact that he’s leading you somewhere so secluded that he could easily hurt or take advantage of you without anyone knowing about his intentions. Out of anyone you’ve ever crossed paths with in the village, you’re certain that the Mandalorian is the only one you would ever trust to lead you deep inside a cave where terrifying creatures or monsters might linger, though you fear nothing as you stay close to his side.

“I can assure you that none of my weapons, armor, or equipment is for decoration,” He informs you lightheartedly, giving your hand a firm squeeze as he calmly guides the way further into the cold grotto, “The hot springs aren’t too much further away--stay close, saviin.”

“I do not think you would let me stray far,” You chuckle as you let him walk a step in front of you, just to be safe.

He lets go of your hand as he gracefully hops down a steep step that’s a solid ten or twelve feet and you hesitate as he turns to gaze up at you.

Trying to mimic his grace, you move to hop off the jagged ledge, though the tip of your oversized boot gets caught in a deep crack and you let out a sharp squeak as you fall forward, nearly face first into the ground. Before you can properly react and attempt to steady yourself, the diligent Mandalorian is swift and efficient with his skillful hands and somehow manages to keep his grip on your hips light enough to prevent any bruising or soreness that would possibly occur from being manhandled by the blue warrior. You let out a small noise of pain when your chin collides with his cuirass and he’s quick and even a little frantic as he cups your flushed cheeks and tilts your head backwards so he can get a better look at your face, his leather thumb moving to ghost along your sore chin.

He almost sounds ashamed when he speaks up and you feel your heart plummet into the pit of your stomach.

“I hurt you.”

“You… what?” You don’t know what to say, absolutely shocked by how guilty he sounds as he continues to lightly stroke your chin, “You did no such thing, Mandalorian. My clumsiness is not your fault and you should not blame yourself for saving me from worse injuries. Please, keep going. I want to see the hot springs.”

His thumb grazes what you’re sure will be a bruise in the morning, but you think it’s the first time someone has ever unintentionally left a mark on you without any ill intent. With a sharp nod, the blue Mandalorian presses a firm hand to the small of your back and guides you deeper into the grotto, though you’re certain by the way his visor keeps tilting down towards the lower half of your face that he’s still upset over your lack of grace.

“I would not think a nurse to be clumsy.”

He doesn’t sound admonishing or judgmental, but more upset and confused than anything and you can’t help but to find his curiosity endearing, “I am a trained nurse, not a skilled warrior like you. The only thing graceful about me are my hands.”

His helmet cocks to the side, “I’ll be sure to remember that for future reference.”

Your cheeks burn viciously at the implication of his words and deciding it best to not dig yourself into a deeper hole, you grow silent and continue to follow him.

A tiny gasp escapes you when you hear the unfamiliar sounds of running water and you immediately perk up, no longer hesitant as you skip in front of the Mandalorian to venture further within the dwellings of the cold cave. Luckily, the little flashlight attached to his helmet guides your way as you follow the unfamiliar sounds trickling water and you can hear the warrior quickly shuffling to follow you, as if he’s worried you’re going to trip and fall again. Only when he gently advises you to slow down, your hasty footsteps dissolve into a slower stroll and you’re barely aware of the way you grab his hand once again, tugging him towards the sound of rushing water.

When you finally make it to the destination he had longed to show you in the first place, you freeze in awe and wonder.

“Stars,” You murmur as you gaze upon the gorgeous, glowing plants that surround a thin creek of aquamarine water, along with several little ponds filled with steaming hot water, “This is…”

As you stare at the budding flowers and crystal-like plants that glow with a whimsical shimmer and brighten up the tavern, you realize you’ve never seen anything quite as beautiful in your entire life. The flowers that miraculously grow underground are all vibrant shades of sapphire and magenta and even though you should be intrigued by the steamy ponds filled with crystal blue water, a huge, unintentional smile spreads across your lips as your fingertips lightly skim along silky azure petals.

You can’t stop yourself from plucking a healthy-looking flower and bringing it up to your nostrils with a soft smile, your eyelids slipping shut when the floral scent invades your senses completely. If you thought the huge cliffs and shimmering constellations had been beautiful, they had absolutely nothing on the vibrant flowers that softly illuminate the grotto, or the aquamarine water that has steam rising from the surface. With the stem of the flower still intertwined between your fingers, you slowly make your way towards one of the smaller hot springs in the cave and slowly sink to your knees so you can lightly skim your fingers along the surface of the delightfully warm water.

A grin tugs at your lips as you submerge your hand completely and wriggle your fingers around.

“Mesh’la.”

You immediately turn your head in his direction, inquisitive eyes scanning his dark blue helmet because it’s the first time he’s said that word in front of your and you wonder what the hell the Mandalorian must be calling you in his native language. You hope it’s nothing too insulting or demeaning, though the way he breathes it so fondly makes you think he must be complimenting you, rather than throwing judgment your way. His helmet jolts a little, as if he doesn’t realize he’s been staring at you through the safety of his visor, and he clears his throat a little before slowly sauntering to where you’re settled on the edge of the hot spring.

“You can…” He sounds a little hesitant as he approaches you and crouches down so he��s not towering over you, “You can take off your shoes and socks if you want. I brought…” A soft expression crosses your features when you realize he’s nervous as he gazes down at the canvas bag he’s clutching tightly, “I brought this for you.”

Reluctantly, he shoves the small bag in your direction and looks away as you peer inside at the contents, your eyes widening when your fingers graze thick leather, “I-I can’t accept this, Mandalorian. You have already done far too much for me and I would not be able to repay you.”

“You need new boots, saviin’ika,” He observes you as you reluctantly remove the shoes from the bag completely, fingers inspecting the quality of the leather, “Besides, these were made for another Mandalorian in the covert but were too small; they should fit you well enough.”

“I don’t have enough credits to repay you.”

"Then don't."

"Manda--"

“Maker, you really are a stubborn little thing,” The blue warrior says in a deadpan tone, reaching out so his fingertips can lightly graze your flushed cheek; immediately, you remember the way he had caressed your cheeks and lips just a week ago and you lower your head so he can’t see the longing in your eyes.

The Mandalorian lets out an exasperated sigh when you hold out the boots for him to take, though he simply shakes his helmet, “Not everything requires a price. You gave me that salve even though I couldn’t afford it,” You open your mouth to argue with him, though he’s faster and much more stubborn than you are, “If you truly wish to pay me back, then do it with your company.”

“I don’t really make for the best companionship.”

“I think your companionship would be the only kind I wished for, outside of my tribe.”

You ignore the intense warmth in your cheeks as you reluctantly place the boots on the ground next to you before reaching back into the bag to see what else he brought for you. Upon pulling out a jar that’s filled with white, rocky chunks, you perk up and quickly unscrew the lid to smell the aromatic salt; the intense eucalyptus scent nearly brings tears to your eyes as it tickles your nostrils and clears your sinuses.

“Healing salts?” You say it as a question, though it’s more of an observation, and you turn to the blue warrior with raised brows and a slight smile, “I feel like a spoiled woman.”

He grunts and turns his visor away from you, standing up to take a seat on a flat rock that’s right behind you and you can feel the armor covering his knee grazing your shoulder blade, “You care too much for others and not enough for yourself, little nurse. It would be good for you to relax for a while.”

“And what about you, Mandalorian?” You unfold your legs from underneath your body and start to unlace your worn out boots, avoiding his shiny visor as you continue, “I’m sure those weapons and that jetpack must weigh down on your body, no?”

After tugging off your boots and socks, you roll your head backwards so you can peer up at him. Despite all of his clunky weapons and equipment, he seems relaxed as he leans forward a little, padded elbows resting on top of his thighs; he cocks his helmet to the side as he observes your upside down gaze.

He flexes his fingers a little and you think it must be some sort of habit for him to constantly crack his stiff joints, “You’re asking a Mandalorian to disarm his weapons?”

You giggle a little and turn your attention back to the hot spring as you slowly submerge your feet into the soothing hot water, shuddering at how good it feels after being on your feet all day, "I would not ask you to do such a thing, silly man. I'm simply asking for you to relax with me; you deserve it just as much as I do."

He huffs out an amused noise and you turn to gaze at him over your shoulder to watch him slowly remove the cannon that's as tall as you, propping it up against the rock next to his thigh. You raise your brows when he lets out an exasperated grunt upon removing his jetpack, cursing in his native language as he rolls his shoulders.

"Told you all of that equipment must weigh down on you," He shakes his helmet at your gentle quip and lightly nudges your shoulders with his knee before removing his utility belt, "It is good for you to relax too, Mandalorian, especially if your tribe requires your protection."

"You needed this more than me."

You hum as you carefully dump a small amount of the healing salts into the hot spring, avoiding his emotionless gaze as you muster up the courage to say what’s been clawing at the back of you mind since after your initial meeting with the enigmatic warrior.

“Why do you find it so important to take care of me?”

Besides the peaceful sounds of running water and chirping crickets, it’s deathly silent and you fear that the Mandalorian will refuse to answer your question. You lower your head, shame and regret burning something fierce in your cheeks as the silence overwhelms you and convinces you that he does not care about you--that it’s all part of your imagination. You hear him shuffle around and you think he’s attaching his equipment back to his armor, probably wanting to already leave the beautiful cave.

Then a bare hand is on the center of your spine and you find yourself shivering and sighing as a massive hand idly trails up your back. His callused fingers easily push past your thick braids and find purchase on your nape; an embarrassed whimper leaves you when he firmly strokes and squeezes the tension away from your stiff muscles.

“Because, mesh’la,” His voice is close to your ear and when you turn your head in the slightest, your surprised to find his visor just inches away from your eyes, “I would not stand by and watch a harsh world beat you down so easily.”

You think him to be the best thief in the village, because his next words, followed by the press of his forehead against yours, has you bereft of any air that had previously filled your lungs.

“I would much rather see you with that pretty smile that actually meets your eyes, rather than bruises and cuts on your face. I would bring you here every night if it meant seeing that light in your eyes. even if for only a few seconds.”

The smile you grace him with is so genuine and huge that it hurts your cheeks.

Though you believe the Maker to be so cruel to bless you with such a tender companionship, surely with the intentions to eventually rip it away from your grasps, you will allow yourself to feel such happiness in that moment.

sen’tra= Jetpack

saviin’ika= Little violet

mesh’la= Beautiful

Author’s Note: First off, I know I’ve said a bajillion times and I’m never going to stop saying how sweet and supportive you all are! When I first came up with the idea for this story, I certainly had no intentions of people reading it since it’s so self-indulgent and I’m just a soft baby that loves the thought of huge, tough warriors also being soft babies lol. I’m glad we’re all fans of tender Mandalorians being soft with their partners and I’m so appreciative of all the kind comments y’all have left. I hope you all continue to enjoy my story and I promise I’ll try to update as consistently as my hectic schedule will allow me to.

I love you all <3

Taglist: @parabatai-winchester​ @auty-ren​ @theocatkov​ @oloreaa​ @blindedbyyourgrace17​ @datmando​ @dartheldur​ @miscellaneous-mando​ @karpasia​ @ben-is-a-hoe​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @whatababeleia​ @maybege​

If I missed anyone, please let me know!!

[txtdiaries]

Momentum - Chapter Three

SUMMARY |  After a month of static noise and not seeing Choi Soobin, he finally turns up at your door. However, something he doesn’t expect when he finally sees you is a fight and a new man making his way into your life. 

PAIRING | Soobin X Reader

CATEGORY | college au, crush, slow burn, fight, angst, etc.

WORD COUNT | 1.9k

WARNINGS | swearing, ANGST, bitterness lol.

SONG REC |

PLAYLIST | momentum playlist

Preview / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four

A/N: Very short chapter, I’ll be posting another chapter later in the week. Also ya gurl didn’t proofread, bc I’m too out of it for that, lmao. Enjoy!

A month.

It has been an entire month since you have heard anything from Choi Soobin, and you’d be worried if you weren’t so absolutely pissed off.

His last text has gone from comforting to annoying, and now whenever you glance at it during the odd hours of the morning (you dwell in his messages at 3 am, reading but never replying), it makes you feel sick.

I’ve been studying, working, and going off campus a ton lately. I’ll get back to you when I can. I’m sorry.

But apparently, he wasn’t that sorry. Not sorry enough to respond within the entire month of December, and now campus is coated in a thick layer of snow. The weeks flew by. No word from Soobin, whatsoever. Now that you think about it, pissed off might be the understatement of the year.

This is why, during a Friday night study session cooped up in your dorm room, the last person you expect to see is the one and only Choi Soobin; standing outside your door, looking guilty as all hell.

You didn’t have enough raspberry iced tea in your system to be able to handle it.

“Hi.” He says, voice hopeful for an entire second before he’s back to frowning.

You look him up and down before meeting his eyes again. You don’t reply.

“Can I come in?” He speaks again, looking over your shoulder, presumably at the clutter of study materials on your desk and bed. You’re still wordless, debating on whether or not you should actually let Soobin in. Realistically and metaphorically.

The longer you look up at him, the more on edge he gets. He’s starting to shift his weight and bite at the skin of his lips before you finally step aside. He’s just crossed the threshold between the hallway and your room before he’s talking again.

“I’m just gonna say it - and I just want you to listen - I’m gone a lot.”

You close the door and brush past him, deciding in the moment to not look at him anymore. He knows. Okay. So, you’d prefer to stare at the white walls than into his eyes now. Because he knows, and he’s known the whole time. It doesn’t make it sting any less.

“I don’t reply to your messages and we don’t go on dates anymore like we used to. I know that, Y/N.”

He continues, “I just… I study. I have a job, I see my roommates and my friends. I have honor’s society, and clubs, and all the other stuff that I deal with on a daily basis, and it makes it really really hard to breathe, let alone have free time sometimes.”

“You’re gone a lot.” You confirm, knowing that both you and Soobin know he never has free time, “That much is clear.”

“No that’s not-” Soobin backtracks, suddenly running his hands over his face before he takes a deep breath. You can practically feel him gathering his thoughts.

“Everything else aside, I have you in my life now.”

You finally meet his eyes and you feel yourself deflate. You notice the bags under his, the dark skin showing how close he is to finally shutting down. You notice the unkept strands of his hair you failed to notice before. The way his hoodie strings are pulled unevenly, and how one of his shoes isn’t even tied all the way. It all falls into place.

“I have you and you matter to me.”

It’s silent for a few moments, and you don’t know if it’s your turn to speak.

“I like you and you scare the fuck out of me, Y/N. I don’t do this, and especially with someone like you I- It’s terrifying. It’s terrifying because I have all these things I always have to upkeep, and I have no real prior knowledge on relationships at all, and I already know I fucked up.”

You let him continue.

“I fucked up so bad and the longer it got, the worse it felt to even try to justify what I did. You can’t even guess how many times I paced outside your door at midnight trying to build up the courage to just knock.”

“Is this your way of apologizing, or just feeding me with excuses?”

Your words slice through the air and they make Soobin fall quiet. You expect to feel worse after saying them, but you don’t. A fucking month. You sigh internally.

“I’m not-”

“It doesn’t take over a month to text someone again, Soobin. I don’t expect all your time - hell, I barely have time, but it’s not hard to send someone a single text back!”

For a flash, you feel like you could be going overboard

“I didn’t come here to argue with you, Y/N.”

“Just came expecting me to accept your apology right off the bat, then?”

This shuts Soobin up, and you suddenly realize how heavy you’re breathing.

“Get out.”

You don’t know if it’s the best idea you’ve ever had, but looking at him is only fueling your anger. You can feel your pulse racing under your skin.

“W-what?” He asks incredulously, “You aren’t even letting me explain-”

“You had a fucking month to explain. You had hours and days and weeks, to explain, Soobin. You’re too late.”

Soobin opens his mouth to try explaining again, to try and convince you his reasoning behind ignoring you for so long, but the words never leave his lips.

Without another word, he lets his head hang low in acceptance. Soobin turns, takes a few long strides to your door, and exits.

Once he’s gone, you finally allow yourself to break down.

He didn’t even hesitate.

It is nearly past the month of January when you finally feel yourself start to get into the groove of things again. You took a week to reset, did some self care, and even bought a new outfit. As far as anyone was concerned, you were flushing Soobin out of your system. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It is a Thursday afternoon when you see Soobin again. You signed up for an art class to fill a gen-ed elective, and even though the drop date was just around the corner, you hadn’t expected any new students to enroll this far into the month.

Cue the headache.

Soobin takes his seat across the room from you, and you aren’t even sure he sees you in the first place because of how he keeps his eyes down. If he does, you’re none the wiser.

“We’re working in pairs today on your watercolor pieces. Please get your canvases and paints from the back and try to keep the noise to a minimum.” Your instructor informs the class. You were genuinely excited for this class when you signed up, and art was something you enjoyed occasionally. You decide to just ignore Soobin. If he doesn’t care, you don’t have to either.

“Do you want me to get your canvas for you?” A voice suddenly asks to your left. You perk up at the sound and meet eyes with a boy you’ve never met before.

His hair is dark and parted down the middle, and his features are pretty. You’re surprised for a few seconds before you finally speak.

“Oh- it’s okay, I can get it.”

The boy shakes his head, his bangs fluffing around a bit, “It’s no trouble really, I can carry two.”

“What about the paint?” You ask nicely.

The boy hums for a second before grinning, “Okay, new plan. I get the canvases, you get the paint.”

This makes you giggle. Before you can overthink it, you’re nodding and standing with him, stepping around other students to make your way to the back of the room where all the supplies lie.

“By the way-” He says, leaning his head down a bit so you can hear him better in the already loud room, “-I’m Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.”

You extend your hand and watch as Heeseung chuckles a bit. He shakes your hand politely.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you, Heeseung.”

The next hour of class is spent mixing paints and trying to complete your project as Heeseung sneakily tries to smear paint on your skin. Only near the end of class do you two actually chat without painting simultaneously, brushes already put away.

“So what’s your major?” Heeseung asks you softly, chin propped in the palm of his hand as he looks at you kindly.

“Visual Communication with an emphasis in Design.”

“That’s really cool!” He says, eyes wide. Heeseung is kind, this you’ve learned over the past hour. Friendly and kind. You really feel like he’s a good guy.

“Thank you,” You grin at him, “What about you?”

“Music Production and Dance.” He says easily. It’s your turn to be surprised. Of course, he had the physique for it, but you were still really impressed. You wouldn’t have guessed music or dance.

“Okay that’s way cooler than mine! Do you do dance club or anything too?”

Heeseung suddenly turns bashful, nodding a bit, “Something like that, yeah.”

Your attention is suddenly pulled away from him as the professor speaks up again, announcing that class is dismissed for the day. You’re about to take your canvas to the back to dry, but Heeseung has already gathered it in his hand carefully, along with his own in the other.

He smiles at you again before turning and walking toward the drying rack, leaving you alone. You take this opportunity to finally let your eyes wander the room, meeting eyes with the last person you’d expect to be watching you.

Soobin’s face is stoic, but his eyes are ablaze. You know that he just saw the entire ordeal with Heeseung, and it wouldn’t surprise you if he had seen it the entire class. It’s awkward to say the least, and you don’t know how long you can hold his gaze as he blinks back at you.

“Everything okay?” Heeseung asks innocently when he gets back, moving to put his backpack over his shoulders. You can only imagine how stressed out you look.

“Yeah, everything’s good.” You shake off the feeling and look back up at him, nodding.

Heeseung smiles and then tilts his head a bit, “I was wondering if you wanted to do something sometime. Do you like coffee?”

You weren’t used to boys asking you out so easily, and it takes you aback for a moment. You know Heeseung means well, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of pain in your heart. The last person who asked you out like this was Soobin, and the irony that he is watching this all go down from across the room is not lost on you.

“I… I like coffee.” You reply, smiling at Heeseung. He looks relieved after hearing your words.

“How does Saturday sound?” He asks, pulling out his phone. You nod and type your number into the device before passing it back to him, “Saturday’s great.”

“Great,” He nods, smiling fully now. You notice how nice his teeth are momentarily, before meeting his eyes again. They are half crescents, adorably endearing as he beams down at you. You take a deep breath.

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ll see you on Saturday.” And then he’s turning on his heel and walking out of the class, leaving you smiling still.

It’s less than thirty seconds before your phone vibrates in your back pocket, and you’re positive it’s Heeseung. Instead of reaching for your phone, though, you stand there, eyes staring at the now vacant chair across the room.

The room is fully empty now, and you’re left completely alone.