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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 1 year

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Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter 24: When It All Goes Out

Summary- 5.8k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Returning from Florida meant returning to the last bit of winter weather and it hit with ferocity, leaving Duluth without power. Luckily Curtis is ready to handle such a challenge.

Warnings- Intimate sex and some talk of Curtis's past and his grandparents being ill from cancer and a stroke. Mentions of freezing cold weather? Is that a warning?

A/N- I had to throw in a winter storm because they are something I experience every year, along with losing our power when it is freezing ice cold and it is miserable. I need someone like Curtis who can make that experience a lot better! I also wanted to meet some more of his family and this seemed like a good way to do it. As always, thank you so much @what-is-your-plan-today for editing this, also thank you to everyone who has been following these two! Divider made by @firefly-graphics As always happy reading, Liking, Commenting, and Reblogging are so appreciated! 🐝

Chapter Twenty-Three / Masterlist

The end of February and beginning of March came in with the coldest snap of the year, the wind blew freezing temperatures off the lake and you swore you were moving to live with Jade after the fifth night you stood at your stove while stirring your pot of hot soup. Curtis was working on putting heavy sheets of clear plastic over your very drafty windows after he felt how much cold was creeping in, leaving your heat running constantly.

“I have plenty here if you want some dinner.” You muttered as you tasted the broth off the tip of your spoon. “But I’m sure you are sick of it by now?”

Curtis was stretching to the tip of his toes to get the tape in place, giving you a glimpse of his pale belly, the Florida tan having faded away as fast as it arrived. You could feel yourself getting all wistful for the sun filtering through the palm trees in Frank and Jade’s backyard.

“Honey, if you're feeding me, I’m not going to have any complaints. Soup sounds warm and I’m still freezing from today. Sucks having to work outside on days like today. Should have seen Edgar. Had on so many layers he could barely move.” He moved back from the windows and checked the seams of the plastic. “Okay, I think this will help a bit. I don't feel a draft sneaking through anymore.”

You clicked off the stove and hugged around his waist. “Thank you Curtis.”

“I got your bedroom too, that was not quite as bad as these kitchen ones, but Honey this building has so many issues.” He frowned as his eyes roamed around your tiny apartment.

“As soon as my lease is up, I’m moving. I’m not crazy about this place either. I was thinking about a little house next.” You said while easing back to the stove to ladle up the soup. “I miss having a garden to work in. I had the most beautiful one with my parents since I also lived in an apartment there.” You placed the bowels side by side at the table while Curtis picked up his supplies. “I always wanted a yard, with a porch either on the front or back of the house.” You smiled a bit at the thought of it, Curtis catching your wistful look while you daydreamed.

“You know my Gram had lots of gardens in that yard. If we can’t find the house you want, you can certainly use them.” He offered as you finished up the table with some drinks and warm bread that you had baked that afternoon, butter alongside it, because warm bread needed slathers of salty butter to bring it to life. It was something you used to deny yourself daily. Now you thoroughly enjoyed it whenever the mood struck. It started with you making it for Curtis, because he enjoyed it so much but now, it was just as much for yourself as him.

Hearing Curtis mention the old garden beds at his own house made you perk up. “She did? Do you remember what was in them? Are they even still there?”

“Yeah, they are still there, it wouldn’t be hard for me to rent a rototiller to break that ground back up for you. And she did everything, flowers, vegetables, herbs. There are some bushes and fruit trees back behind the treehouse that can probably be brought back to life. All her tools are still in the shed. Grandpa didn’t have the heart to toss them after she stopped being able to use them.” Curtis dunked a piece of bread in his soup and bit into it, letting his eyes slip to a close while he chewed, thoroughly enjoying his food.

“I would love to revive your Grandmother's gardens Curtis.” You worked on sitting down but once again Curtis hooked an arm around your waist and pulled you to his lap, hugging around you. You didn’t try to pull away like before, just slid your bowl over close to his and took your own bite. You had to admit it was warmer in his hold, a feeling of security that you’ve grown accustomed to being with Curtis.

“Mmhh you’re so warm, makes me wish I could stay tonight.” He grumbled, knowing in this cold he had to keep his fire going and make sure his water didn’t freeze up. “She would appreciate it, I tried for a few years to keep them going after she passed, but it was so time consuming and I just didn’t have enough hours in the day and I just didn’t have the knack for keeping anything alive like she could.”

“Trust me, I wish you could stay too. You are like a furnace when you’re sleeping, perfect to keep me warm tonight.” You chuckled, leaning into him as you took a bite of bread, savoring its rich warm taste. “I will send some of this bread home with you.” You twisted a bite off for Curtis and held it up to him, which he promptly took with a light nip to your fingertips. “Make yourself some toast tomorrow before work.”

“You do that and I will just come back looking for more.” He teased you with a bypass on soup and bread for the curve of your neck, hitting that sweet spot of yours that always made your breath catch. Your hand lifted to cup the back of his head, making you breathe deeply while muttering a curse at him.

“You're an absolute fucking menace Everett.” Making him laugh deeply, the vibrations from his chest felt in your back where you were pressed against him. “Keeping you coming back was my master plan though. However how about we go to a movie and dinner tomorrow? My Friday night treat?”

“You wanna take me out on a date, Pretty Girl?”

“Sure, gotta show you off once in a while.” You winked at him before turning back to your soup.

“Well, I will be delighted, make sure I wear my finest beanie hat and coat you got me for Christmas.” Curtis promised, making your cheeks heat with affection at how happy he still was with his Christmas gifts.

Friday you ended up waking up to a freezing cold apartment. You weren’t the only one you found out while you bundled up into several layers, your phone was flashing with weather alerts and school cancellations due to power. The cold snap ended up being matched with high winds that snapped frozen tree branches all over the place, knocking out several areas of power all over Duluth.

You were bundling up in even more clothes, trying to remember all the things your dad taught you about what to do during a power outage like this when your phone rang with Curtis’s name popping up.

“Hey.” You answered while curling up in your bed to get in the blankets. “You without power too?”

“Yes, I woke up a while ago getting the fire going and making sure my water was running. Pack a bag, you should come stay with me. I’m going to go pick up my aunt to bring her here, Ella is packing up her and Sophia. It’s too cold for you all to be staying without heat.”

You happened to agree and staying at Curtis’s sounds much better than your icebox of an apartment.

“You are a literal knight in shining armor Curtis.” You made him chuckle into the phone. “Want me to grab anything?”

“Nah, I got everything we need. If the car has a hard time starting, give me a call and I will pick you up. When you get here pull right into the garage. The truck should be fine as long as I cover it from the wind.” He instructed and once you assured him you would be there soon, you hung up.

Clothes weren’t much of a problem, you had plenty there. But you wanted to bring your laptop in case you were able to do a bit of work on it, plus you were sure Curtis had a small emergency battery you could plug it into to charge. You grabbed a few other things that you knew wouldn’t do well in the cold, including your tiny little spider plant you were just starting. You finally managed to get your bag of stuff you needed in the car and luck was with you as it quickly started without too much trouble.

When you got to Curtis’s place, going in through the garage, it was currently empty of any occupants. Your bag of stuff in one hand, your spider plant precariously balanced in the other, you called out Curtis’s name, not expecting any answer. “Guess it’s just me and you for now, Peter.” You muttered to your little sprig of greenery, making sure to place it in the living room where the wood stove was currently keeping the space toasty warm.

Figuring Curtis must be picking up his aunt, whom you had yet to meet, and Ella was coming with Sophia, you decided to get some hot water onto the stove, which luckily still managed to work with the flick of a lighter, enabling you to start heating up water and milk for drinks. Going into your cupboard above the stove, you brought down several teas, a container of instant coffee and a special mix of cocoa you had purchased with Sophia in mind.

“Jesus Christ and tits, it's cold out.” Ella suddenly announced as she ushered Sophia through the garage door, holding onto her kid’s jacket before she could bolt off. “Get your boots off and go say hi to Y/N.” “I got some cocoa for Sophia going if she wants some.” You poked your head into the hallway to see if they needed any help. Ella tossed you a bag of clothes for you to take off her hands while she worked on getting Sophia out of the outside clothes.

“What do you say Soph, hot chocolate?”

“Does it have the mallows?” She asked so solemnly and you nodded with enthusiasm.

“Unicorn ones. I picked them up last week when I was grocery shopping.”

Sophia’s brown eyes widened with excitement and she hurriedly wriggled out of her clothes while you went to set the bag of clothes in the living room. When you came back out to the kitchen, she was pulling the stool over to the counter to help assist in your cocoa making adventures. “Ella, you want anything?”

“If you have any kind of coffee, I would fight my cousin and make you my girlfriend.” She shouted while she stuffed everything in the closet to get it out of the way.

“I got instant.” you answered back while pouring the heated milk into a mug. “Careful Soph, it’s hot.” Grabbing the package, you emptied it into a flower mug for Sophia.

“Oooh, they are pink and purple unicorns!” The little girl said excitedly as she carefully stirred the powder into the milk, changing the color to a soft brown color. She scooped a marshmallow and blew on it before biting it. “Mmmhh.”

“Perfect for today.” You agreed with Sophia while you made two more mugs, one with instant coffee for Ella and you drizzled some of your honey into another and a tea bag. Ella came in, pressing cold hands against her daughter's warming cheeks, making Sophia squeal and twist out of her mothers hold to march to the table with her mug.

“Ahhh, looks like I have to fight Curtis, good thing I fight dirty.” She wrapped her hands around her mug and stole a splash of warm milk and sugar to finish sweetening it.

“I will be your cheerleader from the sideline. I am a great prize.” You snorted in laughter. “So what were your plans this weekend before all this?”

“Oh Sophia was gonna go stay at my mother’s for an overnight while I went to the aquarium to help set up a new exhibit.” Ella sipped from her mug. “I will still go tonight if they let me. Right now everything is going into maintaining the generators, so they might not let any of us go ahead with doing the changeover exhibits.” she shrugged. “I’m actually okay if I have the weekend off. It was a pain in the ass touch tank, one that always is a bitch to deep clean those things.”

“Momma!” Sophia scowled over her mug, sporting a chocolate mustache now. “You swore.”

“Don’t worry, it will happen again.” Ella crossed her eyes at Sophia to make her giggle and went right back to her coffee and convo with you. “What about you and Curtis? Any plans this weekend?”

“Ahh, we were going to do a little date night tonight when I got out of work. Movie and dinner, been a while since we have done that, but I don’t know how long this storm will keep the power out for. Staying in works for me though. I can spend the day in comfy clothes.”

Ella shot out her leg to show the fuzzy pajama bottoms she was wearing sporting the batman logos and extra thick socks, one in bright pink, the other in purple. “I’m right there with you.”

The rumble of a truck could be heard and Ella sprang from her chair to open the garage door. “Hey mom! Curtis! Just in time, Y/N has hot water going.” Ella’s arm wrapped around an older woman, half hidden in a giant winter coat and Curtis followed her hurriedly, his heavy boots thumping on the linoleum as if he was trying to warm up and get the door closed against the chill. You could just barely see him under his hoodie, which he shoved down off his head but kept his beanie on, pulling it down enough to cover the tops of his ears.

“It’s like hell froze over out there.” He opted to kick his boots off and slip his jacket off to hang in the closet.

“UNCLE CURTIS.” Sophia scowled at him from the kitchen table. “Bad word!”

Curtis scowled right back at his niece, taking the effort to make a funny face at her to make her giggle into her cup as her expression went from serious disappointment to glee. “How much do I owe you now for the bad words?”

“Million trillion gazillion.” Sophia said confidently and Curtis sighed with exasperation.

“Kabillion? I might have to write you a check kid.” He continued teasing her.

Ella assisted helping her mom, talking a mile a minute to the woman. Sophia waved a hand while she had her cup half tipped to her mouth, choosing to finish her precious unicorn hot chocolate before going to greet her grammy and uncle. You just stayed quiet, sipping your tea and watched everyone greet each other in a chaotic manner.

“Froze over and then decided it still wasn’t cold enough.” Ella confirmed Curtis’s statement while the trio went into the kitchen. “Y/N, have you met my mother yet?”

“No, but I’m glad you were able to come.” You held out a hand and the woman, who was on the shorter side of the family, just coming up to your own shoulders meaning Curtis and Ella towered over her, looked at your hand and swept it away as if offended.

“I’ve heard so much about you, I feel like we’ve already met.” She wrapped her arms around you, catching you by surprise. “Call me Lisa.”

You were quick to recover with a swift smile and nod. “Sure Lisa. You must be frozen, please come to the table so I can make you something.”

The woman accepts graciously, letting you lead her away while Ella gathers boots to tuck away and Curtis finishes hanging up winter clothes in the closet. They could hear Lisa start right in about how the kitchen table had been her parents and had many similar days, spent around it warming up after a cold winter day with ‘coffee strong enough to keep you awake for days.’ Making you laugh as you joined Lisa and Sophia at the table.

“See that, fits right in. Mom loves her.” Ella winked at Curtis who gave an eye roll, but he couldn’t keep the grin at bay seeing how relaxed you were alongside his niece and aunt, comfortable as could be.

The day was soon filled with activities to pass the time now that Curtis was sure everyone was able to stay warm. Several games were dragged out from the top living room bookshelves, helping make them kid-friendly so Sophia could play.

The small wood stove in the living room kept the house heated for the most part and when it came to the evening, you started to light candles while Curtis went to retrieve some of his grandparent's old oil lamps from the garage. The house felt lively as the rest of the world almost felt shut down, at least in their part of Duluth.

The oil lamps cast a warm glow around the living room, Curtis making sure to set a couple near where his aunt was curled on the couch, working on a project with her crochet hook and a large bag near her full of bright colored yarns.

Sophia and Curtis were playing some game nearby while Ella worked in the kitchen, picking up from the meal earlier. You sat on the other end of the couch, taking a breather after the chaos of the day, Ella having chased you from the kitchen claiming she had it all under control. You also didn’t want Lisa to be alone and although you didn’t know her, felt better giving her some company.

The woman was just as friendly as Curtis and Ella, her eyes lifting from her project with a smile. “Dinner was fantastic Y/N, you can make me chili any time.”

You eased a bit at her friendly welcoming tone. “Thanks, it was the only thing I could come up with that didn’t require the power for the oven.”

Lisa laughed, hooking her string around her finger, and with a flash her hook was back to a whirl of movement. “My parents always went to beans and hot dogs.” Her eyes flashed and a soft smile curled her mouth at the memory. “You will get creative. This happens quite often up here this time of year. I keep telling Curtis he needs to replace the generator, it’s on his to-do list.” Lisa leveled you a look, making you giggle a bit.

“He has a long to-do list?”

“So he claims. But he has done a good job on this old place. It was a lot rougher a few years ago when Dad was sick. A lot of repairs needed to get done, these old houses as sturdy as they are, are also always falling apart.” Lisa said softly while she started another row. “Curtis moved back in when mom got sick and for that, I’m always going to be grateful to him.”

You nodded, curious as you hadn’t heard much about this time in Curtis’s life. “It must have been hard for all of you when that happened.”

Lisa nodded in agreement as she twisted her project, inspecting her stitches. “Cancer is harsh. Mom refused to be sad about it though and I think that kind of took a toll on Dad and Curtis, because they weren’t able to be sad about it either. At least not near her. Then after Mom passed, Dad just went downhill, heartbreak.” She said, sighing as she glanced at you. “Then when he had his stroke, Curtis stayed to help take care of him too and make sure he wasn’t living alone.” The older woman seemed lost in her memories for a moment till she glanced at you, seeing that you were paying attention. “I’m sorry, this is a heavy conversation after we just met.”

“It’s okay.” You assured Lisa with a genuine gentle smile. “It helps to talk about them. Curtis mentions things once in a while. I know he misses them a lot.”

“Sometimes that boy keeps way too much buried inside, always being the one who takes care of everyone.” Lisa smiled thankfully, giving a small glance around the room that she had grown up in, as well as her daughter and nephew, now her granddaughter would have memories as well

“We all keep too much inside, why I agree with you. It does help to talk about them. I’m glad Curtis still does. Do you crochet?” She held up her project in question.

“No, that's one I have never gotten to try. I sew costumes for the drama club. But I always wanted to learn.”

“Well get over here, I got more hooks and plenty of yarn, let me teach you.” Lisa set her project aside and pulled up her bag. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh um, I love almost anything.” You peered into the bag and she pulled out a spool of greens that reminded you of summertime.

“You can use this, I have more at home. Okay, so we are going to start with a loop…”

You got engrossed in the lesson, and you and Lisa lost track of the other people in the house. Not by Curtis though, once in a while he would wander into the brightly lit living room to check on the fire, which didn’t actually need any tending.

Seeing you bite on your lip as you slowly mimicked Lisa’s movements, you looked like you were enjoying yourself. This felt right to him, this made his house feel like home.

You shivered as you crawled into bed that night, using a flashlight to see in the dark upstairs, opting to keep the lanterns downstairs for Ella and Lisa to use. Outside the wind howled and made tree branches scrape ominously against the side of the house, adding to the slightly spooky feeling that having the power out so long gave.

“Damn, it's still so cold.” You tucked yourself under the multitude of blankets covering Curtis’s bed. “You sure everyone is all good downstairs?” You asked quietly when Curtis came into the bedroom, sporting a steaming cup for you. You gratefully took it, wrapping your hands around the hot mug to warm your fingers up.

“They are, it’s warmer down there than it is in here.” Curtis assured you, easing the door partially shut for a little privacy.

Downstairs, Lisa ended up in the bedroom just off the kitchen which Curtis was sure to have the door open for the day to warm it up and in the living room you and Ella opened the pull-out couch, equipping it with plenty of blankets for them.

Curtis managed to stir up the fire and refill it with wood for the next few hours just before coming up the stairs and from somewhere in the depths of the old house, you thought you felt it sigh in peace as all the occupants settled for the night. “Okay. I just wanted to be sure everyone is comfortable.”

You sipped on the warm tea while watching Curtis hurry brushing his teeth and changing into his gray sweatpants and a hoodie. “I gave the stove a good amount of wood, it should warm up a bit more up here too.” He slipped in next to you, pulling the blankets up high around the two of you.

You curled up closer, sliding your hands under his shirt to press against his warm chest while he wrapped an arm around you, mimicking the move against your back. “Your hands are freezing Curtis.” You whined into his hoodie. He promptly started rubbing them against your back to heat them up.

“Better?” He rumbled sleepily and you hummed a sleepy yes. “Thank you Honey, for everything you did today. I’m sorry we didn’t get to go do that date though.”

You lifted your head enough to look up at him, smiling up at him. “You are welcome Curtis and we have other nights to go on a date. I had a great time today.” You cuddled in closer.

It didn’t escape Curtis’s notice that you didn’t brush off what you did today like it was nothing. You happily accepted his thanks because you deserved it. You whispered a good night, passed a quick kiss, and curled up comfortably next to him.

It was almost pitch black in the bedroom when you were woken, the air chilly on your nose but you felt a warm breath against your ear, a press of chapped lips and the scratch of Curtis’s beard against the curve of your neck.

“Mmhh Curtis?” You muttered as you felt his hand slide under the sweater you wore to bed to keep warm.

“Shh Pretty Girl.” He nudged at you lightly with his hips, pressing himself against you.

Really pressed against you, you could feel him hard through the layers you both were wearing. “Our door is open and they will hear us downstairs.”

That sent an excited little shiver to escape as he continued to kiss on whatever skin he could find. His hand moving aside your hair while he nipped at your sensitive place where your pulse fluttered in excitement. “You sure?” You gave a little throaty whine when his hand under your shirt squeezed a breast.

“Fuck yes. You made me so fucking happy today when it could have all gone to shit, you made everyone so comfortable and feel welcomed.” He admitted to you in hushed whispers. “I thought I could ignore how much it turned me on, but I just don’t want to anymore.”

You arched into his touch again, wriggling back against his broad chest. “That really got you this worked up?” You asked curiously.

“Yup.” was all he muttered as his hand moved out from under your shirt and he pulled the blankets over the two of you to cocoon you underneath. You eased to your back as he pulled over the top of you, holding himself up on his elbows while he started kissing you softly, pressing his lips against yours, over and over till you both started to relax into the sensation.

It was making your half-asleep mind go all fuzzy and warm feeling him press himself over the top of you and continue kissing you. Now his tongue slid over your teeth and pressed against your own tongue, making you both moan at the sensation of one another. Your fingers curled into his hoodie, to pull him harder against you, his hips snug against yours and rocking into you.

“You might have to keep me quiet.” You whispered when you both broke, your head tilting back so he could once more kiss on your jaw, another moan escaping him as he rocked into your soft body once again.

“I always got you Honey. Lift your hips.” He pulled up just a bit, enough for you to push at your sweats to work them off with his help. Under the blankets everything was muffled, the blankets keeping you both warm and snug stretched around you both. More kisses soon distracted you both for a moment, your bare legs hooking around Curtis’s thighs which were still encased in his soft worn sweats that always drove you crazy. You mumbled against his lips, panting slightly to catch your breath.

“You still have too many clothes on Curtis.”

He tilted his head to catch your earlobe, sucking on it, his chin a sensual scrape against your neck that sent a shiver down your spine. Your hands dragged down his muscled back, tugging at his sweatshirt to pull it off to touch bare heated skin. He mimicked the action, making you lose your shirt over the edge of the bed. “Fuck.” He hissed as you ground yourself against his groin again, needing that friction. The fabric of his sweatpants rough against your sensitive clit. Your nails pushed down the last dip of his lower back and under the band to grab onto his flexing cheeks and pull him harder against you. Suddenly he shoved at his pants, pushing them low enough for his cock to spring free, needing them off now.

You pulled up once more to kiss him, sighing against his mouth at feeling his cock press against you and he eased himself into you with a matching satisfied sigh, his weight pressing over you into the mattress. Easing your hands up to spread over his cheeks and running your thumb over his bottom lip before placing more soft kisses on his mouth, you felt his expression under your fingertips, the slight curve of his mouth pressing against yours made you smile against him.

You both kept the kisses light, brushes of lips against one another and rubbing noses while Curtis barely rocked himself against you. He rose on his elbows enough to touch his forehead to yours, his fingers burying into the hair along the side of your head while he rocked into you with soft grunts. You soaked into the feeling of him, easing your hips to meet him with a slow unrushed arch.

It was different, no chasing and encouraging one another to finish, but just enjoying the feeling of your bodies pressing against each other. You let your hands slide down off his cheeks to the side of his neck, closing your eyes as your fingertips traced tendons flexing whenever he tensed in his movements and then down to his muscled shoulders. You sensed him shifting, the brush of his beard against your neck making you moan against his ear while his weight sunk on you. The hair of his chest tickling your breasts till he pressed against your soft body.

You felt the groan in the hollow of your throat as he skimmed his mouth against you. “You always feel so good under me Honey.” Heat spiraled up your spine as you made yourself softer against him, your thighs rubbing up and down against the side of his hips and circling a leg to hook over his rocking ass to press him in closer. You wanted to drown in this feeling with him, make it last forever.

His fingers tightened just enough to move your head to tilt towards him, his lips resting against yours while your gazes locked, sharing each other's soft pants.

Thick lashes framed around his shining blue eyes, his pupils wide, searching yours while you were sure your gaze had a similar expression, except when he tilted his hips into the gentle rocking and Curtis pressed against you in a way that made you tighten around him, your eyes fluttering up as your breath hitched. “What are you thinking about Curtis?” You pondered in a whisper before pressing your mouth more to his.

You couldn’t get enough of this intimacy you were sharing with Curtis. Sex had always been good for you two, but this felt different. You felt him everywhere and you felt just as seen, barely breaking your gazes unless some sensation rocked through one of you, making your bodies so good while embracing the sensation.

But you two always relaxed again once it passed, sharing in the moment.

You felt Curtis groan against you, the vibrations pressed into your chest as you rocked once more to meet him till he slowed even more. “How good this all feels.” He finally whispered against the curve of your neck where he buried his face. You thought he was talking about this moment alone and arched up into him slightly, running your hands down his back, feeling more of him, wishing you weren’t already building up to a release. “You in my home, fitting so fucking good in my life.” More kisses pressed against your pulse as he rocked back into your wanting body.

You grabbed at the back of his head to press him closer as he kept talking. “How life just feels so sweet with you Honey.” You smiled and it felt so good to smile in this moment, when you were feeling so close with Curtis. It sent an urgency racing through you, unable to stop the sultry moan escaping as your head tipped back and you tightened around Curtis. His head lifted to watch you come undone, keeping up the slow dragged pace he was using, rubbing his hips into yours while your hot velvet heat clamped around him, the rush of your orgasm made him grin.

“Fuck you are so sexy when you come. Come on Pretty Girl, let me feel you. Just give in.” He encouraged, soft kisses pressing against your forehead and side of your face before he pulled back again to watch you.

You rutted your chin up as you pressed back into the pillows, another moan escaping while your body broke in the softest way. You rode the high that felt like a warm wave washing over you when it passed, making you want to curl up in his hold, against his tattooed chest and soak in all of his touches that always made you feel beautiful. This wasn’t just your orgasm, it didn’t belong to you this time.

This was his, this one belonged to him so you let him see how good it did make you feel. You let your arms circle around his neck and pull his face towards yours, letting your forehead lean into his, sharing a deeper kiss that poured all you were feeling and was so close to saying.

Curtis watched your face meld into euphoria, which is all he ever wanted to do since the day he saw you standing on the bus steps with your students piling up behind you. You smiled so sweetly at him and he wanted more of that. He was always going to want more of that.

Your nails raked gently up his back, your thighs pressing in closer to touch your foot against the top of his ass, pushing him down to bury in you. “I’m going to feel you for days Curtis.” You whispered with a satisfied moan. “It’s your turn. Fill me up Baby.” You begged, so sweetly with nipping kisses to his jaw and along his neck, your body arched under his, pressing all your curves he was passionate about against him. “You feel so good inside of me. I don’t want this to stop.”

Curtis felt the rush you gave him with your words, the pull in his body to fill you with his spend was so intense, that he sped up. He grabbed your hip to keep you against him and you begged him for it till he spilled with a sharp yell of your name and he pinned you under him while warmth spread through you and he made no move to pull out. .

You felt him relax with a groan, hugging you to him and refusing to let you move just yet. You didn't try to pull away but clung to him, both of you warm inside and out.

#life is short so make it sweet #curtis everett x honey #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x plus sized reader #curtis everett and honey #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett and plus sized reader #curtis everett and you #curtis everett x you #curtis everett au #curtis everett fanfiction #snowpiercer fan fiction #snowpiercer au #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes

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kukuma-kit · 1 year

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Audacious Venerate

Meet’ n’ Greet

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☆: * parings: College, Human! Lo'ak x Human!Reader

☆: * warnings: none, mentions of sexy women tho- ☆: * Characters: Lo'ak, Neteyam, Tuk, Kiri, Jake, Neytiri ☆: * Wordcount: 983

☆: * Na'vi glossary: Ftang nga- stop that. Yom wutsot- eat your meal, sa'nok- mother

☆: * Note(s): I'm not too happy about this one but I am satisfied enough, this is only the first part though:) Forgot who the artist is but if you know, let me know too!:)

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Finally getting to move out but you have to wait.

Or..

You find yourself thinking back to Lo’aks light hearted flirting and feeling butterflies in your stomach.

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"Ftang nga!!" "Yom wutsot!" Neytiri exclaimed, tired of her younger son and second eldest sister bickering over dinner. "sa'nok! sa'nok!!" Tuk ran over, Jake calling out to her about forgetting to take her shoes off and not run in the house. Neytiri couldn't help but smile at the family, seeing her kids laugh and talk about school. Although the constant bickering and trouble her kids put her through, she missed seeing her kids all day, not expecting Jake to come up behind her and put a hand on her waist. "Didn't notice how much I missed' em, huh" Neytiri chuckled at that, resting her head on Jake's shoulder. "eww!! mom! dad!!" Tuk might be older now but that didn't mean she wouldn't pass down a chance to tease her parents and their undying love for each other. The rest of the kids hurried the couple over, wanting to eat already but they always waited for their parents. ------------------------------------------------------------

I groaned in frustration, quickly pulling out my phone and placing it to my ear. As I made my way to the exit doors, I waited for the call to connect. Ao'nung was supposed to pick me up and take me to my new place so we could get the keys. He had texted me earlier that they had finished gathering their belongings and that Lo'ak and Neteyam were fixing up the room.

It wasn't even two months ago when Neteyam introduced you to Lo'ak, who offered you his old room that he had shared with Lo'ak. The room had been used as a storage unit until now. Due to some mishaps involving the wall paint and broken flooring, they had to repair both the walls and floors along with some wall linings.

To contribute to the apartment expenses and rent, you took on half of them. However, your current job wasn't making things easy, so you barely managed to cover your share of expenses. Fortunately, you enrolled in mixologist classes to supplement your income. "Yo?" " it alright if I swing by earlier than planned?" I took a sharp inhale before speaking, unprepared for the grogginess of sleep in Lo'ak's voice as I glanced down. Fiddling with my key charm, I walked to Ao'nung's car and stepped inside. We exchanged looks before he drove off.

"Huh? Oh, yeah- that's fine. Are you on your way?"

"Yeah, see ya in a bit."

The call ended, and Lo'ak wasn't too far - just a 25-minute drive from campus. To pass the time, Ao'nung and I enthusiastically sang along to our favorite tunes. Before we knew it, we were climbing the steps to the apartment and knocking on the door. Lo'ak emerged wearing sweatpants and a muscle shirt, his locks slicked back into a bun. He smirked at me, nodded at Ao'nung, and let us in.

"Hey, ma. The keys are right on the counter," he said as he followed me into the kitchen and poured some juice into a cup.

"You got what we need?"

"Of course," Lo'ak replied snarkily to Ao'nung as he turned to leave, tossing a bag to Ao'nung who was exchanging goodbyes to you. "Me and Neteyam just finished clearing the room, we're waiting for the supplies to come in" He informed me as I nodded before taking a look around the place, Lo'ak behind my trail as he told me what was what. After some touring and light-hearted flirting from Lo'ak, we settled down on the sofa and engaged in conversation about the plans. Time flew by, and he kindly offered to give me a lift.

"So you're going to be a bartender?" I had mentioned to Lo'ak that I was taking mixology classes, which required some explanation. Lo'ak seemed genuinely impressed, admiring the confidence it takes to be a bartender in certain establishments. Although it didn't feel like a big deal to me, I appreciated his sentiment.

"Yeah, I'll be like those hot skilled women pouring and shaking drinks," I joked. Lo'ak laughed at this, which made me chuckle too.

"For real, and looking great in the process," he added. Surprisingly, the thought of bartending and impressing Lo'ak stirred some flattering butterflies within me. "ya'know, you're not so bad yourself" I spoke softly now, looking out the window with my chin in my palm, I hear Lo'ak scoff, chuckling under his breath as he took a right. "uh huh? that so, ma?"

I smiled at him, noticing that he was already looking at me before he turned his attention back to the road. I hadn't even realized we'd pulled up to my driveway when he parked and opened the door for me, then returned to his spot after closing it and watching me get to my door-step. "I'll see you around, Lo'ak." I yelled out to him.

Watching Lo'ak reverse out, he blinked his headlights at me three times. A way of saying "goodbye", it was cute. I unlocked my door and took off my shoes as Ghost came running towards me.

"Hey, buddy! Mama's back!" I picked him up and walked to the kitchen, pouring some cat food for him to eat while I searched online for furniture. Reflecting on today's events, I realized Lo'ak wasn't so bad compared to our previous encounters - not that they were awful, but he often found himself in trouble and scolded by Neteyam.

My cheeks flushed as I recalled Lo'ak's lighthearted flirting – his subtle hand placements and the way he held the door open for me. He was quite the gentleman, to my surprise. Ghost, my cat, sat in front of me, blocking my phone view while placing his paw on my cheek and rubbing his cheek against my own. Typically, this meant he was ready for bed, so I scooped him up and headed to the room. After taking a quick shower, I lay down with Ghost curled up in my arms.

------------------------------------------ Reblogs and comments are welcomed:)

#kuniblurbs #loak #loak image #loak x reader #human!Lo'akxHuman!Reader #avatar2 #atwotw #atwow x reader #avatar way of the water imagine #loak imagine #loak series #Audacious Venerate #Audacious Venerate prt1

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violetsandfluff · 2 years

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Tidy Little Secrets (introduction)

This is something new I’ve breathed into existence over the past 48 hours. So PLEASE give me feedback, as I haven’t had a lot of time to proofread this because I’m too damn impatient. Think of this as a trailer, an incomplete part one, a sneak peek, I don’t care. Just know that it’s here and I would really appreciate your support. This will be around five to eight parts.

Trigger warnings include: sex (in different parts), sexual tension, age gap, drugs, alcohol, mentions of shootings and abuse, abusive households and many other triggering matters.

Being an adult was hard.

Those were the sole words of wisdom your parents had bestowed upon you as a child. Enjoy your time under our roof, they’d said, because once you leave, life will be more difficult than you could ever imagine.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe them. Quite the contrary, really. The adults you were raised among seemed like purposeless puppets. They woke up on weekdays and went to work just to party on the weekends and cough up enough money for rent at the end of the month before repeating the cycle. And even this “reckless” lifestyle seemed rigorous to maintain.

It was exasperating to be a child in the midst of this, much less an adult responsible for a child. The sixteen full years that you spent surrounded by alcohol, drugs, smoke, assault, gunshots, and toxic love had you gasping for air. You dropped out of school the moment you were old enough and your parents never knew.

You experimented with different types of jobs for the duration of your time at home. None of them felt right, but you accepted that as your future. If you weren’t finishing high school, gas stations, and fast-food restaurants it was.

When you were eighteen, you moved out and got a small apartment using the funds you’d been diligently collecting for the past two years. All of the jobs you worked were hierarchies, stratified into challenging levels someone like you could never conquer. Your future was only as bright as your resume, and your resume wasn’t promising.

You weren’t in contact with your family, except your sister, Nataly, though even that was limited to a singular call or text every few months. Both calls and texts were usually initiated by you. That’s why it was strange when she called you one Thursday evening in March.

“Guess what?” she had asked, voice radiant with excitement, carrying on before you got a word in. “I got a job working for this rich man uptown and he gave me my first paycheck. He’s paying me so well!” She went on to describe the job in vivid detail, and you had to admit, it was more than convincing.

“That's unbelievable, Nat,” you replied, feigning happiness. “Well, I don’t doubt that someone like you could land a good job, but... You know what I mean. Do you think that I would enjoy a job like that?”

“Oh, Y/N,” she gushed. “Of course! Especially if your client is as gorgeous as mine.”

The concept of attractive men had you sold instantly and she knew it. Within an hour, you added yourself to a hiring website where you put an ad out for a housekeeper. Now, all you had to do was wait. Fortunately, your offer was accepted within minutes by a wealthy man who lived uptown. He was in touch instantly, helping you plan out your tentative work schedule.

You couldn’t believe how well things were going. The dots were practically connecting themselves.

That night, you lay in bed, eyes aglow as you revised every detail of your evening. You had gotten a call from your sister, quit your job, and gotten a new job working as a maid. From now on, you would spend your days cooking and cleaning for a strange man in a mansion i rather than ringing up bottles of water and packets of trail mix for begrudging truckers. This kind of change was nearly unfathomable, a one-eighty capable of giving you whiplash.

~~~

Monday morning rolled around, dragging you with it. You were grossly unprepared. Your client supposedly had everything you needed, but that didn’t assuage your feelings of anxiety. You hadn’t cleaned anyone’s house but your own, much less wealthy old men in good neighborhoods. Hopefully, he would be kind and well-compensating like Nataly’s.

Clothed in loose, simple garments, you examined your appearance hesitantly. Your hair was pulled back into a low bun and your face was covered in a cheap layer of hastily-done makeup. You had to keep reminding yourself that you weren’t aiming to seduce the old geezer, rather earn money.

Once in your car, you punched his address into your GPS and followed it attentively, trying to pry your brain from the intruding thoughts of inadequacy. The farther you went, the nicer the homes and neighborhoods became. You assumed that none of the children that lived around here didn’t get to watch shoot-offs from their bedroom window every other weekend.

The GPS continued directing you up the street, and the houses got remarkably bigger, presumably costing a fortune. After driving for forty-five minutes, the GPS directed you to stop in front of the biggest, most beautiful house you’d ever seen. It was three stories tall and the most elegant building you’d ever seen.

It was made of a welcoming tan stone with regal white pillars framing the front door. There were windows everywhere, and even they looked expensive.

Eyes wide with amazement, you remained in your car, unable to move. You absorbed your surroundings as if you had never opened your eyes before. They scanned everything around you, eventually landing on the massive garage built into the side of the house. It was presumably filled with all kinds of luxury vehicles.

Once your wits returned to you, you made your way up the front walk and onto the stoop. A moment after you’d rung the doorbell, a voice called from somewhere inside, instructing you to enter. You opened the door cautiously and found yourself standing in the doorway, taking in the crystal chandelier and gleaming marble floors, jaw agape.

Just then, a tall man strode briskly in through the hallway beside you, flashing you a grand smile. He was much younger than you imagined, but dilf material nonetheless. He was dressed in a smart navy blue suit and his hair was tousled immaculately. He gave you a cocky smile, noticing the awe on your face. He was definitely proud of all that he had, but who wouldn’t be? You were surely blessed to be in his presence.

“Y/N, right?” he inquired,

He held out his hand for a shake and you broke out into a cold sweat at the thought of touching him. As he raised his hand, his sleeve fell just enough to reveal the tattoos that lay beneath.

You immediately forgot about his arms and focused on his voice. His accent made your name seem beautiful and exotic. This was too much. His grasp was firm and his hand was veiny and warm.

You took his hand and shook it properly. “Yes,” you stuttered, straightening yourself, busying yourself by fixing your waistband to avoid eye contact. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Beautiful.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

He was so suave and articulate, speaking smoothly and making confident eye contact; a right businessman. And here you were, tripping over your words like the lower-class person you were.

He directed you toward a closet built into the side of his double staircase. “Everything you’ll need is in here and if you’re missing something, don’t hesitate to let me know. I don’t have anything f’you to do today. Take the to look around, I understand it’s pretty overwhelming.”

You smiled gratefully, deciding to ignore his implication to your income and upbringing.

“I only have to work until one today, so I’ll be back to answer any of your questions. Sound good?”

You nodded, trying your best to keep your act together until he left.

“I just have one rule. Whatever you do, don’t touch the door at the end of the hallway on the third story. Okay?”

You nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“Harry,” he corrected with a cocky smile. “Call me Harry.”

His words echoed in your ears as he exited the door, briefcase in clutch. You locked the door behind him, sinking to the ground with your back to the wall, heart racing.

I’m gonna tag some people here just to get the ball rolling. (Taglist people, some mutuals, or people who liked this post.) Thank you in advance to anyone who interacts because it means the whole wide world to me. ⬇️⬇️⬇️ @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @sortingharryshairclip @fishingirl12 @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @lukesaprince @babygirl-jj @shroombloomm @chocochipcookie305 @pamelagramm @harrysonlylover

#Harry styles fanfiction #older!harry #Harry styles angst #Harry styles smut #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles x virgin!y/n #Harry styles x virgin!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x fem!reader #Harry styles x housekeeper!y/n #housekeeper!y/n trope #feedback appreciated #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart #ceo!harry #TIDY LITTLE SECRETS

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moonlight-fan2008 · 2 years

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Moonlight rewatch part 5 of 16

Season 1 episode 5 Arrested Development

I feel like it was clear from the beginning that Beth and Mick were going to end up together. I’m not sure if this was meant to be foreshadowing or not but in this episode Mick and Beth run into each other on multiple different occasions despite the fact Mick trying very hard to avoid Beth or he somehow gets in the way of her and Josh

1st time at the doctors office Beth and Josh run into Mick on their way out of the building while he’s making his way into the building

2nd time they run into each other at the morgue the same night Beth is supposed to be celebrating one year with Josh she spends it in the morgue with Mick (later on in the episode)

3rd time Beth and her friend discuss Beth’s and Josh’s relationship and Beth’s friend tells her that she and Josh are fated only to be interrupted by a phone call from Mick. Beth’s friend says this is a sign she and Josh are meany to be but Beth tells her it’s not Josh (happens later on in the episode)

Josef being sassy with Mick and making fun of him for avoiding Beth and knows exactly why he’s avoiding her. I love their friendship, they tease each other and give each other a hard time but they care about each other

Josef being an old man and being all back in my day when looking at the escort website.

I don’t know why but Beth looks really uncomfortable during her anniversary party, her friend is talking about her and Josh being fated and she just looks 😐 more or less

Josh “yeah I’m so understanding” Josh bud I like you but you need to stop being insecure and moody

Also it’s interesting that Josh calls them Beth’s friends instead of “our friends”makes it seem like he doesn’t like spending time with them.

The morgue scene also connects the twos cases and forces them to work together

Beth: why are you avoiding me Mick putting his hand on his hips and putting his foot down “no I haven’t” he says in the most defensive way possible

How do vampires like the kid in this episode get their apartments? Like he looks like 16 maybe 18 at the oldest and I don’t think too many places will be willing to rent out to kids. The apartment looks like it’s in a decent area so I’m going to assume it’s going to be a slightly harder process than something in a rougher part of town

Like when I got my townhouse (which is in a relatively okay part of town) it was a whole long and annoying ass process and my sister and her boyfriend got their apartment (okay part of town) it was also an annoying process.

Like I’m sure some places maybe have a don’t ask don’t tell type of place but how do vampires who are stuck as kids do anything? Like if some 12 year old (whose actually 500) vampire needs a place to live ain’t no way they can be on their own

Ryder (vampire hacker) Mick said you had a great voice and Mick is immediately flustered and tries to change the subject, Mick is so awkward a lot of the time.

Mick and Beth breaking and entering yet again and making Carls poor blood pressure rising more than it needs to

Mick ignoring the FBI and just snatching his P.I badge

Mick and Beth silently communicating with each other and stealing evidence right under the FBIs nose

Maybe I’m showing my age but where is that kid getting all that money. Does he steal it?

Beth “so how does sex between human and vampires work” Mick wiping his head to look at her and says nothing Mick *probably* internally thinking “is that an offer?”

Beth this is just hypothetically, Mick probably thinking “damn”

Mick about Vampires and humans having sex “it never ends well” Beth “never?” Mick changes subject and then sighs very stressed out. He’s very shy when it comes to the topic of sex I’ve noticed.

Mick is a dramatic bitch, like was it necessary to turn on all of the amusement park rides ?

I remembered the roller coaster scene being a bit more epic when I was younger. I still like it but I remembered it differently

Once again moonlight chooses great music

Cherish and her parents reunion is so sweet they’re just so happy to have their daughter back and she’s so nervous about seeing them but they just hug her and don’t saying anything

Then the final thing that connects Beth and Mick is the last couple minutes of the episode Mick drops his keys and struggles to get them. Which gives Beth enough time to catch up with him

Beth kisses Mick and he’s so stunned and then she kisses him again and smiles like a little dork

I give this episode 8.5 out 10 wooden stakes, alright last episode of the night. Going to be bed now but will resume my re watch tomorrow

#mick st. john #moonlight cbs #alex o'loughlin #cbs moonlight #beth turner #moonlight #moonlight tv #sophia myles #mick st john #Moonlight rewatch part 5 of 16

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theantiproduct · 3 years

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#my parents just offered me to rent out our old apartment from them for a lower price #it could be absolutely amazing tbh but I'm worried about them losing money #the place is really old but has so much space #and it'll probably be demolished in a year or two #but i feel like i should do it?#even if it'll be kinda temporary #if i could get a friend in there with me that'll be perfect cause they wont be losing money #and it's a big place too #idk i dont even know how it looks at this point it might be a dump #but it does sound tempting to not deal with shit landlords #and pay a bit less than what i was planning even tho it'll be pretty much the amount i was planning on #idk my mind is racing lol #and I'll be able to have people over and date oh man that sounds great #maybe i shouldn't fall in love with the idea yet i guess i need to think it over and i told my parents to consider the money thing too #personal #oops #yep this is me breaking my own heart lol the current tenant isn't SURE if he wants to leave #so stupid #shouldn't have gotten swept up in it i was looking at decor all day #guess we'll see but I'll try to get it out of my head for now and keep looking for apartments #sad

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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You Have to Let Go

For @whumptober2021′s Day One prompt, “You Have to Let Go” / Betrayal

CW: Forced vampirism, blood drinking, vampire whumpee, whumpee takes revenge, referenced drug addiction

1908, somewhere outside of New York City

“You can’t keep this up forever.” William, one of the oldest members of the pack at just over a century, lays on his back on a chaise, his head hanging off, looking upside-down at the newest vampire in the pack.

Blood does not pool in his head or redden his cheeks, although he’s been like that for an hour or more. He stays pale, his hair and skin and even his eyes all nearly the same shade. It gives him the appearance of a ghost, although he’s solid enough.

Cold, and solid.

More marble statue than man, now. And yet still more man than animal, though that depends a little on the viewer’s perspective.

“Watch, watch me try,” Tristan hisses back at him from where he sits, curled up in the corner of the room, arms around his bent legs. He stares at a mostly-healed scar on his left knee, from a time he tripped and fell in the dark of the basement downstairs. It’ll be there forever now, he’s told, a reminder for eternity of the wounds he wore when he died.

He pushes on it. There’s no pain.

Of course there isn’t. Pain is your body trying to warn you not to die, and he’s already dead. What is there to warn him of now? All the worst things have already happened.

There’s a soft cry from an adjacent room, woozy and almost sultry. An answering murmur in Malorie’s low voice. There’s a flirty laugh, and then the next sound is less cry than moan. He’d blush if he still could. Instead, he ignores the sound. Someone paying money for the oblivion the venom offers them, or paying in skin and blood.

Vampires aren’t picky, and blood renews much faster than coins, anyway.

“We gave you a gift. Wrapped it all up in a bow for you, didn’t we? ” William has an odd accent, like he’s a mix of Brit and something else that Tristan doesn’t recognize. There’s a mocking lilt to his tone that Tristan knows from his own childhood, the landowner’s children teasing him for his oddities and for the way they felt all the families working their land were more or less the same. Tris hadn’t been the favorite of the other farmers’ kids - there’d been whispers behind hands about all the bits of him that weren’t like other children - but they’d banded together against the landowner’s children still. He remembered with fuzzy affection the others picking up rocks more than once to throw in his defense.

There were still parts of home where there were rumors of changeling children, and his mother had angrily shouted down an accusation more than once, when he was young and caught lining up river rocks in perfect circles. But for all that there might be whispers from the old, the other village children had always stuck together when someone from outside came mocking.

He’d been so happy to get away from the town, going on the ship with his parents to America. Tears threaten at the memory of his mother holding him at the edge of the ship, the salt-spray in his face as they set off and away from home and toward what she promised would be a grand new one.

Her sister had gone ahead first, years before, and had written glowing letters about America as a land of chances that Ireland didn’t offer.

He wondered, bitterly, if his aunt had already been hooked on the venom by then. If she’d been writing those letters from vampire dens, with a pair of fangs buried in her other arm while she signed Your loving sister, Joanne.

Had she known she would try to sell him before she ever saw his face? Had she sold his parents’ lives, too, somehow?

He wishes, fierce and strong, that they had never left Ireland at all. That his mother had known not to trust Joanne as far as she could throw her. Too late, though. Too late.

Joanne the only one left standing, now. The rest of them are dead.

Even Tristan, who can be dead and still be separated from his parents by the gulf of their different kinds of death, who stares into damnation even if he were fully destroyed now. He remembers trying to confess his sins to a priest who chased him from the church with screams of demon, demon, begone. His soul has been handed over to evil, and all he’d ever done was try to be good.

Tristan wipes the pink tears from his cheeks before William can see them. “I, I, I didn’t want your, your gift.”

“Does that matter now?” William flips over onto his stomach and drops to the floor into a crouch, smiling. His fangs glimmer in the dimness, as the night stretches on and on towards dawn. Already the horizon is going lighter around the edges, a soft dove gray that will lead soon to pink and blue. Already, Tristan can feel an unnatural exhaustion weighing down his bones, the need to sleep while the sun is up.

“To, to me it does.” Tristan leans his head slowly against the wall, closing his eyes. The pulse of thirst is stronger than his heartbeat ever was.

“You’re not human any longer,” William says, and there’s a gentleness to his voice that Tristan is surprised by, turning to look at him. “You have to let go of all that. You’re not it any longer, and won’t be again. But isn’t this better?”

Tristan blinks once, twice. “No,” He whispers but fiercely. “I’ve, I’ve, been, um, I’ve been made a murderer, against my will. What of that is, is better?”

“All men kill, one way or another.” William shrugs, casual and unbothered. “We are only more honest about it and our reasons. But here, look, I’ve had one more thing done.”

He claps his hands. Tristan flinches at the sound, but the soft murmurings of the pack from other rooms goes silent. Then they drift into the parlor, one by one. Malorie is still wiping her latest partner’s blood from around the corners of her mouth, smiling.

There are seven in the pack, not counting Tristan himself. He tries not to count himself.

When he looks now he frowns, seeing only five. “William?”

“We’ve one more gift for you,” William says, and gestures to the open double-sized doorway.

Tristan stares as the last two members of the pack appear, with his aunt held between them, bound until she has to be dragged and cannot walk on her own.

Joanne’s eyes are wild, rimmed in bright white. She is gagged, cloth tied over her mouth until it bites viciously into the corners of her mouth. She sees him and begins to struggle anew, shouting as best she can. Nonsense sounds, muffled, pointless shouting.

He can’t tell if she is begging for her life or cursing him.

He wishes he could believe it’s the former.

“What, what, what what what is this?” His words are barely a whisper, as he unfolds himself, pushing up onto his feet. His gums begin to itch around where his fangs have grown, the venom ready.

“She’s behind in her payments again,” Alyssa says, laying her head on Joanne’s shoulder, her long brown hair falling half over her face. “In too deep. Chases the fang and doesn’t pay her rent, doesn’t pay us either.”

Tristan stands perfectly still, feeling nearly frozen. His aunt’s terror and panic are something he can smell, now, the sharp tang of adrenaline. It sours the blood, but there are vampires who prefer it that way. Who say the sour taste of pain and fear is a higher form of flavor.

William steps up to his side, running a hand down Tristan’s arm. He flinches away from the touch, but he knows better than to move away from the pack leader more than that. His chin tucks down in unconscious submission to William’s will. “You, you, you you you want me, to, to… kill her?”

“You miss your family,” William says, softly. “It ties you to your old life.” He smiles, something Tristan can see from the corner of his eyes, and leans his head slowly against Tristan’s, mingling white and red hair together. “She’s the reason they’re lost to you, right?”

“Yes,” He whispers in reply, turning slightly into the touch. William’s cool hands comes to cup his face, and he presses a soft kiss, light as air, against Tristan’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, finally presses their lips together.

It’s all sensation without temperature, and Tristan hums, opening his mouth for it, letting William take what he wants. His packleader’s tongue finds his fangs, presses against the venom glands just above and behind them.

A tingle of venom falls onto Tristan’s tongue.

William hums. “Good boy,” He whispers, making Tristan shudder, half-disgusted and half-grateful for the praise.

Joanne’s struggles kick up into a frenzy, but they do her no good. She’s bound so tightly that her wrists are rubbing raw to bleeding, and he can smell it. Saliva gathers in his mouth, his venom pulsing, sizzling on his tongue like a hot pepper eaten raw. He finds himself shaking, hands clinging now to William’s arms just to stay standing.

Joanne welcomed them when they got off the boat. But she’d snubbed Tristan’s father, had never liked him. She’d helped them find work, and all along she’d gone places at odd hours of the day and night.

All she’d said to him after his parents died and he moved in with her was that his mother was never meant to die. She’d been meant to be out of the apartment, but had decided not to go on the errand to the woman who took in piecework, and Joanne had told him, I didn’t know she’d be home, or I’d have changed the day, wouldn’t I?

Then she said he should stop mewling in his grief, and slapped him full in the face for it.

His lips pull back from his teeth, although he isn’t quite aware of it. Only of the taste of blood in the air on his tongue.

“Have your revenge,” William whispers, the devil tempting a boy who has never been a saint. Tristan wonders if his mother will hate him, in her eternal rest, that he isn’t strong enough to resist this chance.

He tips his head back and lets William mouth along the line of his neck.

“Let death come upon them, and let them go down alive into hell.” The verses come easily, without stammering. He was always better at reciting what he’d been taught to memorize, the words his mother read and reread to him, than at speaking for himself. “For there is wickedness in their dwellings, in, in the midst of them. But I have cried to God: and the Lord will save me.” His lips twist, and the tears burn so hot it feels like they are boiling over his eyes and down his cold skin. “But, but, but I cried, Aunt Jo, and-... and and and no one saved, um, saved me.”

He turns away from William and meets his aunt’s eyes.

She stares back at him, still struggling, still fighting. The blood from her torn-open arms runs down her hands behind her back, dripping to the floor. He can hear each droplet hit one by one. He can smell the fear in her, and he can smell what she’s spent her day doing. That she slept late, and ate at a place down the block from their tenement where the old woman sells sandwiches, the big blocks of meat carved to order.

He can smell that she never thought of him at all, as she prepared to come here, to the den, for venom she can pour into a cocktail. He can smell even the way she was surprised when they told her there would be no more credit for her, she must pay now or perish.

She can’t pay. There is nothing left. She’s long since spent every bit of scratch that she gained from the deaths of her sister and brother-by-marriage, the extra cash that came from selling her nephew into… this.

He’s been moving across the floor and barely noticed. He’s only a foot or so away from her now, and the smell of her sweat is as strong as her blood. His pack members can see the fight in him fading, he’s sure, because their eyes are overbright and glittering with excitement.

He holds her gaze.

It’s easier, since he died, to look people in the eyes. He’s not sure why.

“You,” He says, in a low voice that no longer trembles. “You made it so, so, so so I won’t ever be seeing them again. As a cloud is consumed, and passeth away: so he that shall go down to hell shall not come up. If, if you had, if I had died with them, if I…”

His throat feels like it’s closing, his voice dries up.

“But, but, but, but you made me be damned,” Tristan manages, finally, his voice thready and barely-there. “Even if… even if I, if someone, if I am… I’ll still never, um, never see them again. We are, are, are, are both damned, now.”

William, just behind him, a cool presence the same temperature as the air around them, hums, interested. His hands rub up and down Tristan’s arms. “Will you kill her, Tristan? Have your vengeance? We’ll clean what’s left up for you.”

“No.”

Everyone inhales, although they don’t need to, in surprise.

Tristan stares one last time into his aunt’s frightened eyes. “I, I, I won’t, won’t kill her. But, um, but but but… but… I want… want you, your gift to be something else, William.”

“Name it, little brother.”

I’m not your brother.

He doesn’t bother with the protest. Not anymore.

“Turn her,” He says, softly. “And then, um, then then then wall her up in, in the cellar, and and and leave her, to, to starve.”

“A new vampire who doesn’t feed faces the true death anyway, in a month or two,” Malorie points out. When Joanne turns her head away, Malorie grabs her by the hair, forcing her to look back at Tristan with a cry of pain.

“I don’t care. I, I, I just want her to, um, to suffer.”

He walks away, moving around the little group, and out into the growing new light of the early dawn. His bones already feel weighed down by the promise of sunlight.

There is a workshop, a rickety wooden shed, in the yard. Tristan moves into it, closing the door to give himself a nearly-total darkness, and burrows down into the dirt, curling into a ball, closing his eyes. His hand grasps, instinctively, at a rosary he can no longer wear. Finding nothing, he finally goes still.

He hears one long wailing scream from his aunt from within the house, and then no more sound at all.

He wonders how long it will take her to have her first death.

He wonders how long it will take for her to feel her second death, the true death, as she is starved of the blood her body needs to fully become the monster she had Tristan himself made into.

His mother would care.

Tristan doesn’t.

He falls asleep as the sun comes up, at the same time his aunt’s body shuts down bit by bit. Her heartbeat is the last thing to still.

Tristan’s heart stopped beating nearly four years ago.

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @pretty-face-breaker @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

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garbagevanfleet · 4 years

Text

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings: None yet. Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you.

MASTERPOST

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed @satingrass-maidensfair

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans.

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days.

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor.

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down.

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it.

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little.

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages.

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word.

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm.

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand.

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived. “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you.

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.”

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know.

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.”

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming.

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?”

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it.

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked.

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for.

“I think I can live with that.”

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy.

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk.

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.”

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head.

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect.

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again.

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping).

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief.

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency.

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to.

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited.

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves.

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on.

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall.

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours.

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it.

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again.

He stood back up, so you did as well.

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out.

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos.

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs.

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh.

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?”

“I guess I should be grateful for that.”

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them.

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile.

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off.

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?”

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.”

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull.

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?”

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.”

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

#josh fic #josh kiszka fic #josh x reader #joshxreader #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #brightest blue fic

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Corpse Infested

Corpse Husband & Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mentions of dysfunctional family, Family problems, Swearing

Genre: Humor, Comfort, Platonic fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When your friend disappears for a long time, seemingly having lost interest in what fueled the most passionate fire in their life, you cannot not worry about them. Even if you wanna give them space, you will reach out, you will offer your help. You will tell them they always have you to rely on and talk to.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! I’m really sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and if you do I hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

For me, it’s never hard to find things to do. I’ve constantly got things on my mind and tasks to tend to, keeping me occupied and my mind focused at all times. I think that comes with living in a home as dysfunctional as this one. I honestly can’t recall a time when my parents got along nor can I think of a time where there was at least one second of peace while the two are both present in the house. It’s always a warzone up there. I’m saying up there because I tend to live out of the basement of their home. I know living in your parents’ basement is considered a peak loser point, or the bottom of the bottom, but you’d have to believe me when I say - I wasn’t always like this. In fact, I only recently came back to this hell-hole and boy do I regret it. I mean, it was a decision forced upon me by circumstances. Trust me, I tried every other option there was. When my dorm was to be closed down and demolished, we were given a notice to start planning our next move about a month early. You can bet I immediately started looking at places but my very tragic and miserable budget didn’t allow such a purchase. No rent was adequate for me and my near-empty wallet so my second option was moving in with my best friend who was also not in the greatest of situations but I thought I’d give that a shot too.

Spoiler alert: it didn’t work out. She lived in a tiny apartment with her boyfriend and his best friend at the time, so four people in one apartment was a nightmare. Still a lesser nightmare than this one but a nightmare nonetheless. Some unwanted and downright traumatizing events chased me out of that place after barely managing to pack my stuff. Therefore, finding myself on the streets again, I had no other option other than the obvious and least liked one: moving back in with my parents.

Making money during my first year of college hasn’t been easy. Working two jobs at once and also streaming video games on the side was what my time was filled with all throughout the first semester but then this damn pandemic started and now ruined everything for me. I had things going for me, I was slowly getting my life together and now it has all fallen apart yet again. The places I worked at closed down due to quarantine and I haven’t been able to steam, not only cause I’d be the victim of my parents’ comments but also cause my terrible home life would be exposed to all my fans and viewers. It’s not like I could cancel out the commotion going on right above my head, it’s a livestream and this house’s walls are cardboard thin meaning all the arguing I hear almost 24/7 will serve as background noise for my streams.

I haven’t reached out to my friends or fans to inform them of this which I feel slightly guilty about but I’m really not looking forward to having to lie to them, just as much as I’m not looking forward to having to tell them the truth so instead I’ve picked silence which is probably either worrying them or driving them insane. Either way, I’ll make my comeback soon.

Well....not very soon by the looks of it...

I have to gather the money, then I have to find a place, then comes the packing, moving out of here, moving into the new place...oh God, there’s so much to it that I don’t even wanna think about. Just that thought that I’ll be inactive for that long makes my stomach turn. Streaming’s where I’ve been channeling all my negative emotions, turning them into something positive and entertaining with the help of my friends.

Speaking of my friends, I should probably put emphasis on how amazing they are. Basically the older siblings I’ve always wished I had. I’m the baby of the group, the eighteen year old freshman in college, powering through life the best they can cause they are constantly getting tripped up by inconvenient occurrences such as this one for example. I tend to have the gang poke fun at me quite frequently - all lighthearted and with good intentions obviously - but they are also the ones to get super defensive if anyone gets the balls to talk shit about me. They’d never allow me to be the victim of any smack talk or online rumors and ‘cancel culture’ or whatever the hell people will come up with to leave others restless and wondering if they did something shady a decade ago. Well, to be fair, I didn’t even know about the concept of social media a decade ago and I’ve never been one to post much but I still have a protection squad in case anyone decides to come after me.

Little do they know the people I need protecting from are the very people that are supposed to protect me - my parents. Luckily, they don’t venture into to basement very often if at all and I have my own exit to the outside world so I don’t have to run into them unless I absolutely have to. The only time I emerge to the surface of the house - aka the ground floor - I do so to leave my share of rent money on the dining table and I usually do it when they aren’t home or when they’re asleep - that happens often with how many bottles they each knock back on the daily.

*sigh*...at least I don’t have to talk to them, right?

Anyhow, remember how I mentioned I always have things to do? Well, right now I’ve tasked myself with rifling through the large boxes containing random stuff I found in one of the basements down here to see if there’s anything I could possibly sell online. For starters, I’d like to hope there aren’t any severed body parts in here because this was one shady-ass basement before I moved in and un-creeped it a bit so I wouldn’t have to become an insomniac due to the paranoia of there being a homeless person down here with me or some paranormal entity. Regardless, old basements tend to be, apart from haunted, also filled with junk no one would find valuable despite it actually being worth something after all. That’s basically what I’m hoping to find at the moment.

As I dig through the contents of the first box, the YouTube playlist I have put on on my phone cuts off causing me to furrow my brows in confusion for a second before my ringtone pierces the silence the lack of music created.

I quickly mute the ringing and take a look at the Caller ID to see a name I never thought would pop up on my screen as an incoming call - Corpse. I, as well as many of our friends, know that he’s not the biggest fan of talking to people on the phone so this is rather surprising. Still, I pick up the call in case it’s not a mistake and an odd chance that it’s somethin urgent cause Lord knows Corpse doesn’t call people willy-nilly.

Thank God it’s quiet up there at the moment.

“Hello?“ I try my best to cover up the confusion in my voice but I can only assume I didn’t do the best job considering Corpse replies with a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?“ He asks, getting my cheeks to redden a bit, “You can’t blame a guy for calling after up and disappearing on him and on the whole internet. Where’ve you been?“

I open my mouth to respond when I hear the sound of glass breaking a shouted curse from upstairs.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

“Um...you know, places?“ I’m aware the answer isn’t only nonsensical but also sounds more like a question, but I can hardly focus on that right now. I’m too buys praying to an entity I don’t fully believe in for the situation above to not escalate.

“Uh, is everything ok over there? Where even are you right now?“ The teasing tone to his voice is all but gone at this point, replaced with deep concern, having obviously heard the commotion that did the exact opposite of what I prayed for - escalated.

“Y-yeah, it’s ok. It’s just another Thursday, you know.“ I attempt a small laugh but it’s blatantly miserable, “I moved back in with my parents when they announced the quarantine so that’s where I’m at now. They’re not the quietest of folks as you can tell so...“

“I FUCKING HATE YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I HOPE YOU DIE“

Oh crap, here we go.

“...So I can’t really stream a lot...or at all.“ I mutter, cringing with all my might, “But it’s only temporary! I’ll get back in the saddle as soon as I find another place to stay.“ I don’t dare mention how long that’s gonna take me, it’ll be too disappointing and depressing for the both of us. “So yeah...um...thanks for showing concern but there’s really nothing to worry about. I’m ok, everything’s ok, things are just...a bit off the rails, but I’ll fix em no problem. Like I always do!“ I attempt to sound as cheerful as possible with little success due to the overwhelming anger I feel towards those people upstairs and the gut-wrenching nostalgia for the world of streaming I can no longer be a part of because of them. Actually, I put the blame first on the pandemic and second on my parents - if it wasn’t for Covid I’d probably still be in my dorm!

“Hey...um, I think I know an affordable place where you can take up residence. Only if you want to, of course.“ He sounds hesitant but I easily overlook that as excitement bursts throughout my entire being at the sound if an escape being offered to me just like that. Had I known I’d find the solution to my problem in the very people I spent time avoiding because I was afraid of their pity, sympathy and judgement.

“Oh please, it could be a rat and roach infested shoe box and I’d go running to it. How much is rent?“ I ask through a gasp of hurried laughter that’s a result of my inability to contain said excitement. Listen, I’ve been sitting here in Hellsburg for three months now and haven’t gotten a proper shuteye during that whole period, whatever Corpse is offering has to be better than this misery.

“Rent can be discussed once you move in...“ He trails off, “And it’s not rat nor roach infested but there’s a slight issue...“

“Which is?“ I’m honestly expecting the worst: in a bad neighborhood; faulty wiring with a high chance of being electrocuted; faulty piping with a high chance of flooding; people have died there; things get randomly moved around in the middle of the night etc. However, I don’t voice any of them to avoid getting laughed at for my wild imagination.

“Well, uh, it’s corpse infested.“ He says a little awkwardly, causing me to let out an inaudible sigh.

So my ‘people have died there’ guess was on point, huh?

“People have died there, huh? Well, I can turn a blind eye to that as long as I don’t find their bodies in the closet or meet their spirits at 3AM.“ I attempt to joke, now second-guessing my eagerness to accept the offer.

Corpse bursts out laughing his ass off at my statement, getting me to furrow my eyebrows in confusion and wonder what I said was so funny - it was a poor attempt at a joke, it in no way deserves that sort of reaction, barely a chuckle in my opinion.

“You’re golden, Y/N, I swear.“ He says once he forces the laughter to subside, “I meant corpse infested as in Corpse Husband infested.“ He breaks out in another fit as my brain slowly starts connecting the dots.

Oooohh he’s asking me to go live with him

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait, hold up for a sec. Are you aware of what you’re offering me? I mean, we’ve never met IRL, you barely know me and....and for all you know I could be the serial killer in this situation!“ I have no idea why I’m pushing my luck, don’t ask. I just don’t want him to make a decision he’ll later regret, I guess. “Like, I could kill you in your sleep!“

“Would you?“ He asks confidently, silently stating he already knows the answer.

I roll my eyes, “Of course not! But...” He cuts me off.

“Great, the offer stands on my end. I’m not a noisy nor nosey roommate so I suggest you start packing. If you choose to live in that hell-hole over living with me, I’m sorry but I’ll be hella offended, just so you know.“

Corpse sounds like he’s about to hang up on me, a decision already made, so I hurry to stop him. “Wait! What about rent?”

“Fuck the rent, pack your bags.“ And just like that, despite my efforts, he hangs up on me.

Well...this is a chance of a lifetime that I know refusing would lead me to not only remain stuck here but also put me in the hugest loser bin. There’s also the fear of being Corpse’s burden which I’ll try my best not to be - I mean, I’m a super independent person and Lord knows that if this offer came any other time or from any other person, I would’ve declined asap, no discussion.

But streaming

But sleeping properly

But having a normal life again

Yeah those are most certainly the reasons I get up and go into the closet in search on my emptied suitcase. Time to fill it up again, I guess. This time with a smile on my face and excitement fueling each and every movement of mine.

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

My Friend’s Father (Part Nine)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 3,064

Please comment and interact...it's what keeps this blog going

***************************

Almost a week had passed since you stayed with Cillian at his unit in Galway and, despite the fact that he was away, things had further developed between you as emotions grew with every day.

He was different to any man you had ever been involved with and, whilst your involvement with each other stemmed from purely sexual lust and hunger, you had evolved from this to something different entirely within a matter of days.

Of course, you knew each other for years and, whilst you had a crush on Cillian for as long as you could remember, you never thought that it would be like this and, for Cillian, this feeling had never been mutual.

Whilst he always considered you to be attractive and very intelligent and kind, he never felt any emotional connection or sexual attraction towards you, at least not until that weekend when you visited Denise, which was also the first time he saw you again after six months had passed.

On that night during which you slept with each other, he let his sexual hunger take over his reasonable thinking mind after he saw you, in his kitchen, making pancakes and you had since, quite openly, talked about it. He saw sleeping with you as a mistake but, ever since that night, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

For you, things weren’t just sexual anymore and you began to feel strongly for Cillian which worried you especially since he was open about the fact that he didn’t know where things were heading with you. The fact that you are his daughter’s friend and much younger than him clearly bothered him and he sometimes admitted to you that he felt strange about building such a strong connection with you. A relationship was not what he wanted but he liked you, a lot.

As such, during the past week, Cillian called you every day after he finished filming and you were talking to him more frequently than you were talking to Denise.

During his breaks, he would also text you and check in on you as you were in the middle of exams. He always remembered when you had a test and asked you how it went and, when you told him that you didn’t feel confident with your results, he reassured you that you probably did well and, even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. According to him, a pass is a pass and you needed to lower your expectations of yourself just a little.

To your surprise, he also remembered appointments you had scheduled and things that bothered you which meant that, unlike other men you had been with, he was actually listening and was interested in what you had to say.

Some nights, you had spent hours on the phone or Skype, joking about things you had encountered that day or talking about books, literature and music, which is something you both enjoyed.

Politics and social issues were other matters you could discuss endlessly and, even when you were of different opinions, you would be able to argue in the most satisfying way. Cillian always treated you as an equal and even opened up to you about his divorce from Denise’s mother recently.

Another thing you learned from Cillian was that Denise was brining along her friend Amalie to Manchester to stay at his apartment and, when you gave him a warning about her and her intentions, he reminded you that he only had eyes for you. In fact, he always showered you with compliments and all of his compliments were genuine and came natural to him, helping you immensely with your self-consciousness.

Unfortunately, whilst you enjoyed how engaging Cillian was with you every day, like a teenager in love, with the constant text messages and calls, your father soon got suspicious and confronted you about.

****

“Dad, I am almost 22, you don’t need to be spying on me” you said somewhat frustrated as he asked you who you were talking to every day.

“You live under my roof and you answer me young lady” he said harshly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just as your mother stepped in, trying to calm him down. Your father was much older, approaching sixty and fairly old school in the way he expected you and your sister to behave.

“A friend…I am talking to a friend” you explained and your father asked again, telling you not to lie to him because he would know.

“And this friend of yours, you can’t meet him…you just text and talk? You can’t bring him to our house and introduce him?” your father asked along with a million other questions.

“No, I can’t. he lives in Dublin and I, most certainly, wouldn’t bring him into this…” you said somewhat irritated by the interrogation.

“Dublin, huh? So, you met him when you visited Denise?” he asked and you nodded.

“It’s not her brother, is it? Because I really don’t want you to get involved with him. I don’t like this family and their views” your father said harshly, causing you to chuckle.

“Their views?” you asked somewhat surprised and your father nodded.

“Yes, their views on what’s right and wrong. If I recall correctly, this girl you call your friend was going out with someone of the same gender for a while. God didn’t tell us to do this but her parents obviously didn’t have an issue with it which, apparently is called new age parenting. Everything is pro choice and lets their children decide what is best for them even if they lack experience” your father went on to say and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his absurd commentary but, he continued and you soon learned what had happened between your parents and Denise’s parents many years ago, before which your mother had called Denise’s mother her friend as well.

According to your father, Cillian had voiced his opinion to your father when it was found out that your sister was pregnant following a short affair with a man she had met through university.

Cillian’s ex wife had told your sister that she had options, causing your father to get rather angry with her, which is when Cillian stepped in, supporting what Denise’s mother had said.

She had offered your sister help but your father considered this to be a betrayal and, whilst your mother maintained contact with Denise’s mother for a while, your father refused to get involved with Denise’s family thereafter.

Cillian’s often all so public views angered him and he made this very clear. He didn’t want you to be involved with his children and you couldn’t help but laugh about the irony of it all when you found out about this incident.

“Jesus Dad, that was years ago and not everyone has to have the same views as you” you said before confirming that you weren’t seeing Denise’s brother.

“No, they don’t, but I am just looking out for you and, instead of acting the way you do, throwing yourself at guys with new age ideas, I would much prefer if you met a nice young catholic man” your father explained, causing your mother to fume in anger with him.

“Throwing myself at guys? Listen, I am not sure what slut you think I am but it’s nice to know that you think so little of me” you said before storming upstairs and into your room.

Having to deal with this crap bothered you and you knew that, when this semester came to an end, you could be moving out now that you saved enough money for a bond and rent.

*****

As the evening went on, you spent all of your time in your room, reading a book until, finally, at around 9 o’clock you saw a notification on Skype.

‘Hey Beautiful’ Cillian said as you picked up and popped in your headphones.

Cillian apologised for calling through so late and informed you that he was finally able to speak to Laura, the woman he was seeing before you.

He knew that you wanted to know about it and he had no problem telling you what you needed to hear while telling you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

It was Laura’s first day back on set after a week-long break and Cillian told you that she wasn’t exactly impressed when he stood her down.

‘She probably likes you…I can understand that’ you said calmly but Cillian told you that he was pretty clear with her about what this was between them.

‘Well, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her’ he went on and you were quite happy to change the topic by this point and told him that you were aching for him.

‘Well, I am not sure that I can help you with that’ Cillian chuckled.

‘We could have Skype sex I suppose’ you giggled.

‘Skype Sex?’ Cillian laughed before telling you that he didn’t think that this would be a good idea since you were at home with your parents and you had previously complained about the thin walls of the house.

‘Oh Jesus Cillian, my father already thinks I am a slut, so I personally don’t care if anyone hears me getting myself off. I’ve got my earphones in and am the only one who can hear you and my door is locked’ you chuckled.

‘Your father thinks that you are a slut? Do you want to talk about that?’ Cillian asked concerned but you shook your head.

‘I rather not. You met him and know what he is like’ you explained.

‘I do. He takes God very seriously’ Cillian said before continuing on. ‘But, if you have problems at home you need to tell me please. You can stay at my apartment. I can get my house keeper to meet you there with the key’ he offered.

‘You said you were going to stay out of stuff between me and my parents just as I would stay out of matters between you and Denise’ you then said, reminding him on the conversation about your respective roles which you had three days ago.

‘Yes I did, but I can’t if I have to worry about you’ Cillian said firmly.

‘There is no need to worry Cillian. I promise’ you reassured him. ‘Well, actually, I need you to worry about my sexual needs right now’ you then went on to say with sly grin.

‘Through Skype?’ Cillian asked again somewhat concerned.

‘Yes’ you said with a cheeky smile as you settled more into your bed with your laptop.

‘Alright then, show me what you are wearing” Cillian said as he cut straight to the point.

‘Can you see?’ you asked as you adjusted the cam and showed Cillian your dark blue lingerie.

‘Very nice…but…I think you would look even better if you were naked, don’t you think?’ Cillian said somewhat nervously and you nodded in agreement.

‘Well, I suppose I should strip for you and you should strip for me’ you giggled as you seductively took off your bra slowly, showing Cillian your perky breasts through the camera.

You heard him inhale sharply as he watched you and took his t-shirt off at the same time, leaving him in nothing but his CK briefs.

Without words you then scooted back on the bed and removed your undies, allowing him to watch before you sat down on the bed, spread eagle and naked, giving him a good view of your mound.

‘Jesus Y/N, you are so fucking beautiful and sexy…touch yourself for me, nice and slow’ Cillian breathed out and you let his soothing voice wash over you, knowing what he was trying to do and happily helping him succeed.

‘Like this?’ you moaned as you began to run circles over your clit with your fingers.

‘Yes, just like that babe’ Cillian groaned as he shuffled down his briefs and you were finally getting a good look of his hard cock.

‘Oh god, I want to stroke your cock so badly’ you moaned as you seductively opened your pussy lips with your fingers, opening yourself up before reaching for the black vibrator you kept in your bedside table.

‘Well, someone's particularly horny tonight’ Cillian chuckled as he watched you play with your pussy, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You mumbled a small "mhm," and he laughed.

‘Good, that's exactly how I like you, so naughty and needy’ Cillian said as he slowly began to stroke his hard member.

You barely registered his words enough to answer with another "mhm," but your subconscious managed it. Your weak answer elicited another delicious chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Why don't you show me how this little toy of yours works?” Cillian then asked as he watched you eagerly.

“I was just waiting for you to ask” you giggled as you began to run your fingers along your stomach and back up to your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps their wake before reaching for the vibrator and turning it on.

“Put into your sweet pussy babe, let me see it” Cillian groaned and you moan in response, barely processing his words but still understanding enough to answer and do what he asked.

"I bet your pussy is already dripping” he said as you slid the vibrator into you slowly. He was right, you could feel your wetness pooling.

“I am so fucking wet and I wish it would be your cock inside me” you moaned as you began to stroke the toy in and out of you.

Cillian was groaning on the other side, his eyes full of lust and desire for you and you let out a quiet moan as you watched him with the same desire and hunger while you were pleasuring yourself.

“Good girl, keep going…” Cillian tells you and you moan again hearing it.

“Tell me how much you are aching for my cock” he then said you moaned again.

“I want your cock so badly, fuck…I want your cum inside me, dripping out of my wet little pussy” you moaned, eliciting a groan from Cillian as he began to stroke his cock harder and faster.

“Such a naughty needy girl, aren’t you? I can’t wait to be inside you again and make you cum over and over again” Cillian said with a laboured breath and you are barely listening at this point.

“I want you to cum for me and show me this dripping pussy when you do…I fucking love hearing your moans, so fucking sexy…common babe….let go” Cillian said, knowing that you were close and your orgasm rolled over you as soon as the word 'cum' left his lips, and although your sensitive clit was screaming at your hand to stop, you couldn't.

‘Oh god fuck, yes…’ you moaned as you came hard and fast.

“That’s it babe, don’t stop” he instructed as your moans continuously spilled from your mouth, and you were not even sure what you were saying or if you were forming words at all. The only thing in your head is a deliciously heavy fog and Cillian’s voice guiding you to do what he wanted.

“Don’t stop, keep fucking your sweet little pussy babe” Cillian ordered as he knew you weren’t done and, just as he did, you let out a high-pitched moan, bordering on a scream, as an even stronger orgasm washed over your body.

‘Cum for me babe…I want to see all this cum’ you moaned in return, focusing on the delicious image in front of you as Cillian was stroking his cock and, just when you finally come back down you heard Cillian groan loudly.

“Fuck” he groaned as he stroked his cock hard and fast you watched rope after rope of cum spurt onto his stomach.

‘Oh god, what a waste, I want to lick your cum off your skin so badly” you breathed out as Cillian came down from his high slowly and used a tissue to clean himself up.

‘Stop saying those things or you have to stay on the line for another twenty minutes at least’ Cillian chuckled as he could feel his manhood stir again.

‘Well, I think you shouldn’t cum again until you come to visit me in Galway the weekend after next…I want you to save it all for me’ you said, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow as he pulled his briefs back up.

‘Fat chance babe’ he chuckled, knowing that going without an orgasm for nine days would be rather difficult for him.

Eventually, after a lot of begging, he agreed to try but he wouldn’t be able to make you any promises to this effect.

***

The following day, you went to work and then university thereafter but, when you eventually returned home, your father was in a worse mood than ever before.

‘Can you explain this to me?’ he asked angrily as soon as you walked through the door and you couldn’t help but gulp when he pointed to a white box which he had placed on the living room table.

‘You went through my personal belongings’ you huffed out as the box contained some lingerie and intimate items, including toys, that you were hiding in the bottom of your dresser.

‘Again Y/N, this is my house, my rules and I don’t want my daughter to own filth like this’ he said, after having heard small pieces of your conversation with Cillian on Skype the evening before.

It was obvious to you that your father was appalled and you were outraged that he had been snooping through your room and, as you would later learn, had even tried to access your computer.

‘I can’t fucking believe you dad. These are my personal belongings and you have no right to go through them’ you huffed out and, just as you did, you could feel a sharp strike across your face.

‘Get this shit out of my house and talk to me with some respect’ he said harshly, leaving you speechless and in tears as he walked away, leaving your cheek burning red.

Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

198 notes · View notes

farfromtommy · 4 years

Note

seb being a stepdad to chris' kids or vice versa!

not my gif

a/n: okay this is literally one of the best ideas ever and im so in love with this fic. i think this takes the cake for my favorite fic i’ve written!! this is mildly edited so pls be kind. im so proud of it and hope you guys love it <3

please reblog if you enjoyed reading and and feel free to leave any comments!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of sex, brief mention of medical procedure(s), there might be some language i dont remember

word count: 4,400

masterlist

social media au masterlist

taglist

~~~

Chris has been your best friend since elementary school and all through middle and high school. Everyone knew how close you were to him and how deeply you loved each other. It was never in a romantic sort of way, though. Nobody really understood the relationship you had with him, they just shrugged their shoulders and minded their business.

When Chris told you he wanted to move to New York to follow his dream of being an actor, he asked you to go with him. You shared his love for theatre and the arts and always wanted to see if you could make it as a big-time Hollywood actress. You packed all your things into your tiny car and made your way to New York with your best friend.

You spent your 28th birthday sitting on Chris’s couch with a bottle of tequila and a broken heart. Your boyfriend of 3 years broke up with you on the grounds of you being “such a drag” and “not someone he wants to settle down with any more”. You had planned a life with him. He talked about marrying you and having kids with you just weeks prior. And he had just thrown it all away.

Having gone through almost half of the bottle of tequila already, Chris took the bottle from you and just looked at you with sad eyes. He ran his hand through your hair as you buried your face in your pillow and just cried. You pulled yourself together after a while and willed yourself to sit up and look Chris in the eyes.

“I know I’m kinda drunk right now but Chris, listen to me. Can we make a pact? When we’re both 30 and if we’re both still single and loveless. Let’s have a baby. We don’t have to like… y’know… do it or anything. We can do it through insemination or in a petri dish or however they do it. I’m just- I want to settle down and have kids but I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone else.” You rambled, gesturing wildly with your hands. Chris suppressed a laugh and looked at you like you were crazy. You just looked at him questioningly until he realized this was not the alcohol talking.

“Are you serious? Like, me and you? Having a baby? Seriously?” He pulled himself off the floor and sat on the coffee table in front of you.

“I’m so serious. You can say no, Chris. This is me asking you what you think. I always said that if I don’t have a husband or have been with someone long enough to have a child with them, that I would go to a sperm bank and do it like that. You know how badly I want kids, and I know you want them too.” You moved to the edge of the couch to move closer to him. He stood up and grabbed your hand to help you up. He dragged you towards the kitchen and sat you down at the table, telling you to wait there while he grabbed something. He came back a few moments later with a notebook and a pen.

“Alright, let’s figure this out. We’re going to ask each other questions about this and write down the answers. Any conditions we have we’ll write down, if we can’t agree on them we don’t do it. I know you’re not super sober right now so we can do this now and talk about it again tomorrow.” He wrote ‘Y/L/N - Evans Baby’ along the top. You smiled a bit to yourself and waited for him to talk.

“I don’t want to be just the sperm donor, I want to be involved in everything. From the ultrasound appointments to picking preschools. I also want to be in the room when you’re in labor.” He wrote it down as he was talking and looked up at you. You nodded with a big smile on your face.

“I would want you as involved as possible. We would be co-parenting this hypothetical child. My turn. To keep this from getting messy, we should do it through a clinic. Me in stirrups and your swimmers in a turkey baster. Sex can make things complicated and weird, I don’t want to risk something going wrong between us and then there be a child involved. Insemination isn’t as effective but we can always keep trying if it doesn’t work.” You pulled the notebook towards you and wrote down your condition.

That went on for the rest of the night. You and Chris take turns asking questions about your hypothetical baby. You had filled up pages and pages of notes about what you both want, from how you would decide to tell your families to living arrangements to if you’d circumcise or not if it was a boy.

A little more than 2 years later you and Chris found yourselves at the dining room table of his Boston home again. The notebook you had filled just a few years back right in front of you, along with 5 pregnancy tests. They were face down on the table as you anxiously waited for the timer to go off.

“Alright, Chris. This is it. It’s been 5 minutes, we can flip them over.” You released a shaky breath and stared at the tests right in front of you. Chris grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together. You looked at each other before reaching out to flip over the individual tests. Seeing all 5 of the tests with 2 solid pink lines knocked all the air out of your lungs.

“Oh my god. They’re all positive! Oh my god, Chris!! We’re going to have a baby!” You both jumped out of your seats and jumped around the kitchen before hugging each other and crying. He kept thanking you and kissing the top of your head while you sobbed into his chest, soaking his shirt. There were lots of tears over the next few weeks from you both after confirming your pregnancy with your midwife.

8 or so months later Penelope Elizabeth Evans-Y/L/N made her way into the world and the arms of her parents. The world seemed to stop when you heard the cries of your daughter for the first time. You could’ve sworn Chris stopped breathing the second he laid eyes on her when she was placed on your bare chest. He didn’t even care that she was covered in blood and other bodily fluids, he swore that she was the most beautiful human being to ever exist.

He took a lot of time off from filming and working to take care of you both. Once you found out you were pregnant, you stopped acting for the most part. You knew that you wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, at least until she was old enough to go to school, and maybe then you’d go back to smaller roles that kept you close to home.

Chris had a hard time leaving you and Penny once it was time to go back to work. He held her close to his chest and cried at the thought of leaving her when she’s still so little. Seeing the extreme separation anxiety he was already having, you offered to go with him to set and find an apartment or house to rent for the duration of the shoot. This ended up being the greatest thing you could have come up with. Every single project that took him away from Boston, you and Penny were right there next to him. You and Penny followed him to what seemed like every corner of the Earth.

The weeks leading up to shooting The Winter Soldier were the most exciting for Chris. He had been training for months to get into shape and was really excited to have you and Penny on set with him. He had also been talking nonstop about working with Sebastian and Anthony again.

One night Chris came home with Sebastian and Anthony trailing behind him. Penny had gone down for the night and you were nursing a glass of wine on the recliner, watching whatever you could find on TV.

“Hey, Y/N. I should've called ahead, I’m sorry. We’re just going to have some beers while we watch the game.” He walked in and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek. You moved the blankets off your lap and stood up to greet Anthony and Sebastian.

“I don’t think you ever got a chance to meet these guys before. Y/N this is Anthony and Sebastian, guys this is Y/N.” Chris introduced you and you moved forward to give them both hugs.

“Sorry for barging in on you unannounced, we would’ve made sure this idiot called you before to make sure it was all good,” Anthony said, taking the beer Chris handed him.

“Oh please, don’t worry about it. He used to do it all the time when we lived in New York. Sorry, the place is a bit of a mess. Didn’t get a chance to clean today, I’ve had my hands full, especially with this one” You gestured a thumb to Chris and he sent you a playful glare in return.

You offered to put together some snacks for the game, knowing very well Chris couldn’t handle his alcohol without some sort of food in his system. Anthony and Sebastian offered to help while Chris snuck off to go see Penny.

“How long have you and Chris been together?” Sebastian made some small talk while looking for serving bowls in your kitchen. Anthony leaned against the counter and continued to sip on his beer.

“Oh, we’re not together. We’ve been friends since we were kids and we actually are just uh...” You chuckled nervously, not knowing what to say to his friends. Chris walked into the kitchen with Penny in his arms at that moment. Her head tucked into his neck, hands gripping at the fabric of his shirt and his arms under her butt.

“We’re raising our daughter together. They go with me wherever I go so I don’t miss anything and so Y/N doesn’t raise Penelope by herself. We’re co-parenting in the same house.” He said, looking at the tired toddler in his arms. Sebastian and Anthony both sputtered on their beers at the same time, not believing what they were seeing.

There was no denying that she was a product of you and Chris. Even with her sleepy eyes, they could see the bright blue color that matched the man carrying her. They saw the swoop of your nose and the color of your hair. They stood there just taking it all in.

“I had a bit of a crisis when I turned 28 after my long term boyfriend dumped me out of nowhere. It was one of those ‘if we’re 30 and aren’t married’ sort of things. We turned 30 and were both still single, so we had a baby.” You shrugged, looking over at your girl.

“And it works, being parents without being together but still living together?” Anthony asked, gesturing towards the two of you.

“We had everything figured out before she got pregnant. We had conditions that we both had to agree on before we even got serious about it. We were both very adamant about not doing it the old fashioned way so things didn’t get messy. It took some time to figure out the… terms and conditions I guess.” Chris laughed a little bit. Anthony and Seb nodded in understanding and kept looking at Penny.

“I’m happy for you, man. Seems like you both are really happy. How old is she?” Anthony walked into her line of sight and waved his fingers a bit, trying to get her attention.

“She turned one a couple of months ago.” You said and watched Penny pick her head up and look at Seb and Anthony, inspecting them a bit. Her big blue eyes landed on Sebastian and she stared him down before he gave her a small smile and waved at her. She was a little shy around new people and would usually bury her face in the neck of whoever was holding her.

To your surprise, she leaned away from Chris and moved her hands out to Sebastian. Everyone’s eyes widened as she whined a little bit when he didn’t reach out to grab her. Chris moved closer and told him it was okay and let Penny make herself comfortable in his arms. She buried herself into his neck much like she does with you and Chris, her tiny fists clutching his shirt. Her eyes shut immediately and let herself fall asleep in his arms.

The next few months went on more pleasantly than expected. Chris often had late-night shoots and training, leaving you with Penny most of the day. Anytime he knew he would be home late, he’d send Seb over with dinner or just an extra set of hands to help you with Penny. She knew you were her mama and Chris was her dada, then one day she had her Seba. Anytime you opened the door to let him in with her on your hip, she immediately squealed and started to chant ‘Seba! Seba!’ and didn’t stop until he was holding her.

Sebastian had brought up the idea of taking you to dinner one night to Chris. Even though you were a single adult who could make decisions on your own, he didn’t want to disrespect Chris at all. Chris never saw you as anything more than his best friend, it had always been like that. He was ecstatic when Sebastian brought up the idea of asking you out.

“I’m so serious, Seb. I think it’s a great idea. She talks about you a lot and really loves being around you. She’s going to say yes, I promise. Y/N hasn’t dated since we had Penny, mostly because she’s scared of what someone would think about her living with her childhood best friend who happens to be the father of her child.” Chris told him honestly. You weren’t interested in dating at all since having Penny. Mostly because being a mom was your first and only priority.

Sebastian let out the breath he was holding and ran his fingers through his hair, all of a sudden nervous about asking you to dinner. Chris clapped a hand around his shoulder and gave him a quick pep talk before sending him on his way.

The 2 years between wrapping Winter Soldier and starting Civil War had been interesting, to say the least. Everything Chris did kept him in the states for the most part. You and Penny were still trailing along with him, always loving the things you got to experience as a family.

Sebastian had found his place right in your crazy life. You had been unofficially together after wrapping Winter Soldier. He went off to do his next project and you and Chris spent some time in Boston with your families. You texted him most of the day, and he called at night to talk for a few hours before you went to sleep. He always said goodnight to Penny and she blew her Seba kisses through the phone.

He flew to Boston a bunch of times to see you, even if it was only for a few hours. You flew to wherever he was for a few days at a time, most of the time with Penny. Chris somehow managed to get you on the plane by yourself a few times and promised he would FaceTime every single night and would have hourly pictures sent.

On one of your first weekend trips out to see him, he refused to let you leave without making it official with you. He had you in tears at the end of his ‘I can’t spend another second without calling you my girlfriend’ speech. When he proposed to you he had said that the only thing better than the girlfriend speech was the one he was about to give. His ‘I can’t spend another second without calling you my wife’ speech knocked that one out of the water.

Neither of you wanted to make a big fuss about a wedding. You weren’t interested in the big white dress and the stressful bridesmaids and the whole cliche wedding things. Sebastian suggested getting eloped somewhere quiet with a handful of the most important people in your life. Chris’s mom, Lisa, had offered to hold the ceremony in her backyard. Knowing very well how spacious and beautiful it was, you and Seb graciously accepted her offer.

You kept your dress simple yet elegant, a beautiful white lace dress that ended mid-thigh, and complimented your body so perfectly. Seb kept it classy with a dark blue suit and light blue button-up that brought out his eyes, no tie, because who needs one?

Right at the end of the ceremony right as the officiant was about to have you say ‘i do’, you heard whines coming from Penny, who was sitting right up front on her daddy’s lap. You looked over to see her squirming in his lap and whining out ‘mama’ and reaching out for you. Chris made eye contact with you and mouthed ‘i’m sorry’. You shook your head and let go of one of Sebastian’s hands to motion to let her go so she could walk over to you.

Everyone aww’d as she walked over to you as quickly as her legs could take her. You bent down and scooped her up, resting her on your hip and wrapping your arm around her waist to keep her up. Sebastian made faces at her to make her laugh and keep her happy for a few more minutes. Your photographer had taken advantage of the incredibly sweet moment and had made sure to get as many shots of Penny at the altar with you.

When the officiant pronounced you husband and wife, you were going to set Penny down but Sebastian was quick to pull you both close to him and go in for your first kiss as a married couple with your daughter right there. Everyone cheered and Penny was mimicking the claps of everyone around her. Before he pulled away from you two he pressed two sloppy kisses on Penny’s cheeks as she giggled, which pulled some tears out of you.

No more than 15 people were attending the ceremony. You wanted to keep it quiet with just family and a few close friends. The reception, however, was anyone and everyone you could fit into the ballroom you had rented at one of the best hotels in Boston. All your guests had filled the room before you and Seb arrived. You nervously held his hand as you heard the cheers from everyone inside after hearing the DJ announce “Ladies, gentlemen, and nonbinary friends … let’s give it up for the couple of the hour, Mr. and Mrs. Sebastian Stan!!”

No one understood how you, Chris, and Seb managed to make your situation seem so easy and flawless. He knew that living in Boston was a must, so he bought the house that sits right behind the one you shared with Chris for so many years. He never wanted to get in the way of the system you and Chris had created over the years. Somehow, he managed to make things easier for everyone.

Penny’s first day of school was emotional for all 3 of you. You were all at your front door taking pictures of Penny in her school uniform that she looks so ridiculously cute in and the backpack that was way too big for her. She insisted on getting the Avengers backpack that “has my daddy on it!”

“Okay my love, it’s time for us to go to school! Are you ready?” Chris grabbed her tiny hand and led her to the car.

“Yeah daddy, I’m ready!” Penny said as he lifted her into the car and her car seat.

“Daddy? Mama and Sebbie coming too?” She asked him when he clicked the last buckle together. Right on cue Sebastian opened up the door to the free seat in the back and climbed in right next to her. She squealed in excitement at the sight of Sebastian buckling himself in the car.

Chris laughed at her genuine excitement and made sure all her fingers and toes were inside the car before shutting the door. He saw you lock the front door and make your way to the front seat. He noticed you put a few packs of tissues in your bag before setting it on the ground and buckling your seatbelt.

“Planning on crying today, Y/N?” Chris asked in a teasing tone. You swatted his arm lightly and scoffed at his question.

“Our baby is going to her first day of school, of course, I’m going to cry! I cried last night after I tucked her in, I cried in the shower this morning, I cried doing her hair.” You heard Seb talking enthusiastically to Penny, telling her about all the fun things she’ll get to do in kindergarten.

“It’s okay, I cried in the bathroom while she ate her waffles this morning.” You snorted at Chris’s confession and looked back at your baby girl, who was not a baby anymore. She was waving her hands around telling Seb about how excited she was to see her teacher again.

Chris and Sebastian watched from the car as you walked through the front doors of the school with Penny’s hand in yours. They had agreed that it might not have been a good idea to go in with her since they might get recognized and to avoid causing a ruckus. They both waved at her as she turned around and waved one more time before the door shut.

“Did you and Y/N ever think about having more kids together? If I hadn’t started dating her, do you think you would've had more?” Sebastian asked Chris.

“We never explicitly talked about it. She brought up wanting Penny to have lots of siblings not long after you started seeing each other. She felt guilty and thought that I was going to be upset about you and her maybe having kids one day, which meant I probably wouldn’t have anymore. I told her that this was honestly the best thing that could’ve happened because I don’t think I want any more of my own. Penny is all I ever wished and hoped for, and I got it. But since you’re together, she’ll get all the siblings she could ever want, and I won’t have to change a single diaper.” Chris nudged Seb’s shoulder with his. “You guys thinking about having one?”

“Yeah... Yeah, we are.” Sebastian lowered his head and smiled a bit. “With Penny in school and everything, it makes sense. She’s ready, I’m ready.” Seb sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He looked up and saw you walking back towards them with a tissue in your hand.

“I had the morning crying shift, it’s your turn.” Seb looked at Chris.

Just as Penny wrapped up her very first year in school, you and Sebastian welcomed Beverly Olivia Stan-Y/L/N into your family. Penelope had been so excited to hear that her mama finally had the baby she had been waiting so long for. You had gone into labor in the late afternoon and Beverly made her debut in the middle of the night.

Sebastian had called Chris an hour or so after to let him know that both you and the baby were doing phenomenally and that you were asking for Penny and wanted to see her as soon as you could. Chris chuckled at the demands you were making, knowing very well how the epidural and pain meds messed with you.

Early the next morning Penny had crawled into bed with Chris, crying for you and wanting to know when she was going to see you. It was still too early for them to go to the hospital, so he called Seb in hopes that he was already going to be awake.

A very exhausted Sebastian lit up the screen and Chris heard the soft cries of the new baby in the background. Penny’s cries turned into hiccups as soon as she saw Seb’s face because she knew she would be able to see her mama, too.

“Sebbie can I see mama, please?” Penny’s little voice spoke up. Sebastian immediately handed the phone to you and whispered that Penny was on the phone.

“Hi, baby.” You spoke softly to not disturb the baby.

“Mama when you come home? I miss you.” Penny wiped her eyes with her fists to get rid of the tears stuck in her eyelashes.

“It’s going to be a few days until I get to go home, baby. But you and daddy will be able to come to see me, Sebbie, and the new baby in a few hours. You need to go back to sleep and be a good girl for your daddy. I’m sure he’ll let you have some cuddles in his bed with him and Dodger until it’s time to wake up again.” Penny hiccuped and looked at Chris with eyes that mirrored his. He nodded his head and she buried herself closer to him.

“Okay, I go back to sleep with daddy and Dodger. I love you, mama. I love Sebbie, too.” She yawned out, her eyes blinking with sleep.

“Me and Sebbie love you so much, Penny. We’ll see you so soon, I promise” You blew a kiss to her through the screen and waited for her to throw one back. She giggled when you caught it through the camera and put it over your heart.

You, Sebastian, and Chris all watched with tears in your eyes as Penny held her baby sister for the first time. Penny had jumped right up in the bed next to you the second she walked into the room and told you about all the fun she had with Chris. Seeing your girls together melted your heart into a puddle. Chris couldn’t believe his little girl was so grown up and was a big sister. Seb thought about the night he first met you and Penny and would’ve never imagined that he’d be right here at this very moment.

Everything was so perfect and you never wanted to imagine your life being any different.

849 notes · View notes

bbangsoonie · 4 years

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creker academy

member: eric genre: fluff (ft some angst), fantasy au word count: 6,182 synopsis: after finally triggering your hidden powers, fate lands you at creker academy, a special boarding school meant for shapeshifters. there, you learn how to control your abilities and that opposites do indeed attract.

The day you found out that you were adopted was the day your life fell apart. The secret was hidden from you until your uncle coldly drew the line at your parents’ funeral. He told you that he had no intention of taking responsibility for his brother’s actions and that you were no longer a part of the family.

That was how you ended up living alone in a tiny half-basement studio. You barely managed to afford the deposit and rent with the consolation money you received from the funeral.

Every day, Hyunjoon would come knocking at your door and every day, you would turn him away. It had only been a month since you became independent and the scar of losing your parents was still fresh. You were also too ashamed to face your friends. You didn’t want their pity and so you hid away in isolation.

On the night of your birthday, the pain became too unbearable. Although you aged another year, you were still only a teenager. Granted, you were in your last year of high school but you were still a minor. Having to fend for yourself in this harsh world was too much for you to handle.

As you cried yourself to sleep, you could feel a cold coming. The heat from your headache spread to the rest of your body and you felt yourself burning up.

After you bought some medicine from the pharmacy, you slipped into a deep slumber. Your dreams were wildly vivid. You dreamt of an enchanted forest that enticed you to take refuge in its comfort. There, animals of all species ran free and in harmony. It promised you acceptance and a home.

“It’s time you learn of your identity,” a soft voice spoke.

As soon as the whisper tickled your ears, the entire forest was up in flames. Strangely, you weren’t struck with fear. Rather, you felt empowered.

“Y/n, you need to learn how to control yourself,” the voice warned.

It was only then that you started to panic. The flames were engulfing everything in sight and all the animals were running for their lives.

“Y/n, you have to wake up. Now,” the voice commanded.

With that, your eyes shot open. To your horror, the scene in your dreams reflected the view in front of you. Your house was on fire and you were slowly getting cornered by the heat. Frightened, you look to the door only to see it consumed by the blaze.

“Trust your instincts, Y/n,” the voice in your head cooed. “Let your body take control.”

Bewildered, you had no idea what that meant. All you knew was that you had to get out of there. You squeezed your eyes shut, hoping to think of a solution. When you reopened them, the room seemed to be a lot bigger than normal. At that moment, you saw the window cracked open. It was your only hope.

Your body felt different when you stood up.

“Why am I so short all of a sudden?” you wondered.

You looked down and almost screamed when you saw paws instead of your feet. Except a meow came out of your throat instead.

You didn’t have time to freak out about it. Feeling something hot graze your tail, you jumped up and landed on the window sill. Your innate desire for survival kicked in and you squeezed through the opening to escape.

Once you felt fresh air in your lungs again, you ran. And ran. And ran. You didn’t know why or where you were going, but something in you told you to run. Your legs kept sprinting until they reached the forest that appeared in your dream. They came to a slow stop when you realized where you were.

“What is this place?” you pondered.

“This is the border between our world and the human world,” a woman in white suddenly emerged from the trees. “You are now about to cross into our territory.”

It was the same voice from your dream. Trying to grasp the situation, you opened your mouth to ask a million questions. But again, a meow replaced your voice.

“It’ll be easier for you to transition back once you're on our grounds,” she assured. She bent down and gestured for you to jump into her arms.

Not seeing any other option, you hesitantly took her offer. With you safely in her embrace, she passed through a translucent wall that revealed what looked like a huge campus. Your jaw dropped as you observed your surroundings. There were students walking around the magical place. You saw a girl tending the garden and gasped when her hands hovered above the flowers to revive them.

The woman brought you to an office you presumed to be hers and placed you in front of a mirror. Your shriek came out as a cute yelp and she chuckled.

“I-I’m a cat!” you thought.

“There’s an outfit you can change into once you return to your human form,” she pointed at the black dress neatly prepared on the table.

The second she finished her sentence, you felt a bare sensation. Looking down, you screeched at your naked body. Embarrassed and horrified, you quickly clothed yourself with the dress.

“W-What’s going on?” you asked, relieved to finally hear your own voice again.

“I’m sure you felt different from others your whole life?” she asked. It sounded more like a statement rather than a question.

She wasn’t wrong. All your life, you never felt like you fitted in anywhere. Maybe your body knew you were adopted before your mind did and ostracized itself. Or maybe you truly were different. You had weird talents that other kids thought were freaky, making you hide them and become introverted. For instance, you were suspiciously good at starting fires from scratch at summer camp and didn’t feel any pain when your shirt accidentally caught on fire.

“I know this must be shocking to you but you’re special, Y/n. We’ve been waiting for you. Waiting for you to trigger your powers to bring you here,” she smiled.

“My what?” you gaped.

“Your powers. What you just did back at your old house and right now. You’re a shapeshifter, Y/n. A shapeshifter with the element of fire,” she explained.

“I’m a what now?” you scoffed in disbelief.

“Creker Academy is a school and home for students just like you. It’s a place meant to train you how to control your powers. Without our guidance, you’ll lead down a path of self-destruction.”

Baffled by her words, you stared in silence. There was no way any of this was true. Surely this had to be a dream.

“This isn’t a prank or a dream, Y/n. You’ve finally found where you belong,” she clarified.

Belong. You had never felt like you really belonged anywhere. But now, someone was telling you that you belonged with them. That they wanted you there. That they had been waiting for you.

“I understand you must feel overwhelmed. But there are procedures to follow so I’m afraid you will have to begin your tour first. A fellow student will be arriving soon to show you around.”

As if on cue, a boy around your age knocked on the door and came in after receiving the woman’s permission to enter.

“Hello, Headmaster,” he bowed.

“Eric, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Eric. He will be helping you adjust here,” she introduced.

Eric was bright eyed and eager to meet a new friend. You, on the other hand, were quite reserved and uncomfortable in your new environment.

He was excitedly pointing out the purpose of each room you passed by and rambled on about the social norms of the boarding school. You learned that on top of academics, there were classes on virtues and physical training. And of course, classes that taught you how to properly use and contain your powers.

The use of magic was strictly prohibited inside any and all buildings. Students could practice their skills outside but were forbidden from any acts that could potentially put someone or something at risk. That was the one rule that was rigidly enforced and obeyed.

“So what animal and element are you?” he curiously pried. “I’m a dog with the element of water.”

“I’m… apparently a cat,” you felt ridiculous saying it aloud. “And control fire.”

“Ah, you’re a member of the fire element,” he nodded. “What that means is that your element rivals with mine. Some people see fire elements as hotheaded, impulsive, and extreme. Water elements are sometimes emotional, sensitive, and antisocial. But those are all just stereotypes, of course. Not everyone fits into the standard. I, for one, am very outgoing. And your animal obviously plays a role in your personality. I guess the dog in me overpowers the water.”

You had moved on from the indoor portion of the tour to the outside part. He was showing you the garden you had passed by earlier. It was full of flowers that wouldn’t be in bloom this season in the normal world.

“I’m a strong believer in that there are good traits about each element. For example, fire elements are passionate, inspirational, and expressive. They’re arguably the most fun people you’ll ever meet. Water elements are empathetic, imaginative, and loving. But again, all this is relative and doesn’t accurately describe each person,” he reminded. “The only reason there’s still a stupid feud is because some people love sticking to the status quo and labeling others.”

“What are the other elements? Air and earth?”

“Yup! Air elements are independent, talkative, fickle, and nonconformists. Most likely social butterflies. Earth elements are disciplined, loyal, organized, and judgemental. Oftentimes the leader.”

Eric greeted a male student who was passing by with two other boys. He exchanged smiles with the three of them who offered you a kind nod of acknowledgement.

“That was Sangyeon. He’s a bear. On his left is Jacob, a rabbit. The one on the right is Younghoon, who’s also a dog like me. They’re all earth elements,” he disclosed. “Sangyeon is the class representative of our grade. Definitely fits the leader stereotype.”

You couldn’t get over how thrilled he was to be your tour guide. He was filling you in on even the little details of the social life at the academy. He told you about how transfer students were rare and that it was his first time seeing a new student.

His vibrancy contrasted your somber aura. If he noticed, he didn’t comment on it. He was having too much fun getting to know you.

“Oh! That’s Hyunjae and Juyeon,” Eric suddenly pointed at a pair of boys on a morning run. He waved at the two who waved back before speeding up.

“The one with brown hair is Hyunjae, a wolf and fire element. His real name is Jaehyun but he changed it to Hyunjae once he got to Creker Academy. Juyeon’s the one with black hair and is a cat like you. Except he’s a water element like me,” he grinned. “They’re my best friends. Oh, and this guy named Sunwoo who’s a raccoon with the element of fire. As you can see, water and fire elements can get along fine and well. So don’t listen to anyone who says otherwise.”

By the time he was done showing you around, a bell rang and students began to convene inside. Eric explained that the bell was signaling the beginning of classes and brought you to his homeroom.

“Breakfast is buffet style and self served. It’s up to you to wake up and come down to eat. The cafeteria remains open for an hour until that bell rings and we have to get to class,” he said you entered.

Looking around for an empty seat, his face lit up when he spotted one. He sat at his desk and tapped on the one behind him to let you know that it was yours to take.

You still hadn’t processed all that’s happened since dawn. Everything felt like a haze. Nevertheless, you found yourself paying attention when the teacher walked in. He scanned the room to find a new face and smiled when he made eye contact with you.

“Alright, guys. I’m happy to announce that we have a new student that will be joining us starting today,” he beckoned for you to come up to the front of the classroom.

You wanted to shrivel up and crawl into a hole. Feeling your classmates gazes on you, you gulped and began to sweat. You were never a fan of attention. You quickly introduced yourself before rushing back to your seat, eliciting giggles from a few students. Your cheeks heated up and you felt that burning tingle again.

The awkwardness made you transform back into a cat, making your classmates gasp. Their intensified stares made the tips of your fur ignite, alarming the teacher who tried to calm you down.

“Well I guess she’s a fire cat,” a girl snickered.

Eric shot her a glare before leaning in to ask if you wanted him to put the fire out with his water. Not knowing what else to do, you nodded and the next thing you knew, you were drenched.

So much for your first day.

You ran out of the room before you could change back into a human. You fled but didn’t know where to go. You grew anxious, desperately hoping you wouldn’t end up flashing anyone.

“Hey!” someone called out. You turned around to see a male approaching you. Panicking, you dove into a bush.

“You’re the newbie, right?” he asked, taking something out of his bag. He dug out a large t-shirt and a pair of shorts and placed them in front of you. “I usually carry around a spare outfit in case of emergencies. I hope you don’t mind the fit.”

You were still in your animal form so you peaked your head out to look at him.

“My name’s Chanhee. Air element penguin,” he squatted down to meet your eyes. “Everyone’s first day is rough. You’re not the only one who’s had incidents like this so try not to feel so bad about it.”

He stood to go back to class, leaving you to change in privacy once you returned to your normal body. Your hair was still wet as you dragged yourself back to the headmaster’s office.

The headmaster looked at you with pity when you walked in looking worn out. You didn’t have to tell her for her to know what happened.

“How about I show you to your dorm?” she warmly suggested. Anything was better than returning to the classroom.

Due to your late enrollment, you were assigned a single room as opposed to the traditional double rooms. You were glad you didn’t have to go through the process of meeting and getting used to a roommate. It was a small but cozy space and the closet was filled with clothes.

You realized all of your belongings were probably burned down in your old home. Now you really didn’t have anything to go back to.

Before the headmaster left to allow you to settle in, she insisted that you join your classmates for lunch later. You wanted to say that you just wanted to stay in your room but her stern look had you close your mouth.

So you begrudgingly made your way to the cafeteria and gawked at the amount of students packed inside. Feeling them stare at you, you tried to ignore their whispers as you grabbed a tray of food. To your relief, you saw Eric motioning you over and went to go sit down next to him.

His group of friends was fairly large. You saw the boys he had named earlier that day and were surprised to see Chanhee again.

“Hi! I’m Changmin,” one enthusiastically waved. “I’m an air squirrel.”

“Haknyeon, air pig,” another raised his hand.

“My animal is a hamster and my element is water. You can call me Kevin,” the last one smiled.

After shyly exchanging greetings with everyone, you poked at the rice on your plate. The food was undeniably better than the food served at your old school. However, thinking about your old school made your stomach drop as you thought of the friends you left behind. You were sure Hyunjoon was worried sick about you.

“Do you hate water? And have you always hated water? I would assume you don’t like it very much as a cat and fire element,” Changmin looked at you with sparkling eyes that displayed his curiosity.

“Yeah I actually never learned how to swim. I guess that explains why. I never had a reason when my friends asked me about it,” you mused. In hindsight, your unreasonable hatred and fear of water made sense.

“Interesting, interesting,” he nodded.

Like that, the next couple of months flew by. You were put on an intensive program to catch up with your peers and received one-on-one tutoring to help you learn how to shapeshift at will. You could now easily turn into a cat but still had trouble returning to your human form.

To your dismay, you were denied communication with the outside world. The headmaster was very much against risking having the academy and everyone’s identities exposed. Which meant that you weren’t allowed to contact anyone from your previous life.

One good thing was that you were no longer the hot topic of the school. People’s interest in you died down when you didn’t reciprocate theirs.

You grew close to Eric and his group of friends. They were an interesting bunch. Each of them were uniquely chaotic.

Eric was the exact opposite of you. Literally. As a water element dog, his personality contrasted your fiery cat. Everything from your food tastes to fashion style were different. Yet, you felt the most comfortable with him. He brought light into your life and made adjusting to your new school easier.

You were also always at odds with Juyeon. Although you were both cats, he was everything you weren’t. He was sweet but you just didn’t match on so many things. This meant for a very awkward but pleasant friendship.

You got along best with Chanhee. His air side complemented your fire and he quickly became your closest friend. He was both sassy and caring and you appreciated his endless concern and support for you.

Changmin was a wild card. He and Sunwoo wrecked havoc everywhere they went as Younghoon and Haknyeon incited them while Kevin and Jacob were trying their best to prevent them from destroying the campus. Sangyeon and Hyunjae, who were usually busy with student council matters, were the only ones who could calm everyone down but sometimes chose to enjoy the mayhem.

“Did you guys hear the rumors?” Sunwoo bursted through the classroom door panting. “The headmaster is considering an overnight field trip for the seniors!”

Jaws dropped and gasps spread throughout the students. The room was immediately in a buzz as everyone was shocked and excited at the possibility of leaving the sealed territory. It had been 5 years since students were allowed a trip in the outside world.

The homeroom teacher came in and hushed everyone to quiet down. He couldn’t hide the smile that forced its way onto his face after seeing how happy his students looked.

“Is it true we might get a senior trip?” Haknyeon impatiently asked.

“I cannot comment on that. An official announcement will be made later today,” the teacher said.

“That’s not a no!” Younghoon squealed.

True to his words, the headmaster’s voice was heard over the PA system before the dismissal bell. She congratulated the seniors on their hard work and announced that they would be given the opportunity to sign up to spend 3 days and 2 nights on a cruise.

The entire floor of students erupted into cheers and you heard footsteps run across as they barged into classrooms to find their friends and rejoice together. Changmin came into your classroom dragging Kevin and Juyeon behind him.

“Guys, I can’t believe it! It’s been forever since I last saw humans,” Changmin gushed.

“The whole point of us going on a private boat is to ensure that we don’t have any run-ins with humans,” Kevin reminded.

“Yeah but I’m sure we’d pass by them on our way there,” Changmin rolled his eyes.

Sangyeon, Hyunjae, and Jacob strolled in, greeting your group of friends with a nod of acknowledgment. They waited as the rest of you gathered your stuff to leave together.

“Everyone’s going, right? Y/n, you too?” Eric asked.

“Umm,” you hesitated as you looked at their expectant eyes. “I honestly don’t know if it’d be a good idea… I’m still not in complete control over my powers.”

“Aw but Y/n! You can’t miss out on this once in a lifetime trip with all of us!” Sunwoo whined.

“Yeah, it’ll be your last time leaving campus before graduating! Plus, it’ll be your first and last major bonding experience with our class,” Younghoon pouted.

“I know how hard fire can be to control. If you want, I can stay with you and try to help you detect signs of distress before it manifests itself,” Hyunjae offered.

“And I‘ll be next to you to put out any accidents!” Eric beamed.

“You know I always have extra clothes in my bag,” Chanhee added.

You couldn’t say no to the 11 pairs of pleading eyes. They all so desperately wanted you to go with them that it warmed your heart. It hadn’t even been long since you first met them but they always treated you like you were with them from the start.

So you added your name to the list of students and that was how you ended up dragging your suitcase to the giant cruise ship. Haknyeon was bouncing in excitement next to you as the throng of high schoolers slowly made their way inside.

Room assignments were the same as back at the academy, which meant that you were in a single by yourself again. Changmin expressed his envy as Chanhee happily pulled him into their shared room.

Once you were unpacked, you headed to the deck and admired the seascape. The ship was already sailing into the vast ocean and the endless horizon felt so freeing. Leaning on the handrails, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath. The salty smell brought back memories of visiting the beach with your parents.

You felt someone join you but didn’t open your eyes. You could tell by their footsteps that it was Eric.

“Enjoying the change in environment?” he asked.

“Makes me a bit nostalgic,” you said as you opened your eyes.

The wind was strong and the waves were violently crashing into the sides of the boat. With the sun glistening in the water’s reflection, you squinted a bit to appreciate the scenery in front of you.

“Isn’t the view so pretty?” you sighed in content. You didn’t notice that he wasn’t looking at the sea. Instead, he was staring at you.

“Yeah. Extremely pretty,” he found himself saying with a soft smile.

To Eric’s slight annoyance, Sunwoo came and tactlessly interrupted the moment to tell you two to meet everyone else at the pool. He was raving about the jacuzzi next to it and eagerly tugged at Eric’s sleeve to hurry him up.

Younghoon was already shoving Hyunjae’s head underwater when you arrived. Jacob waved at you from the chaise lounge and you sat down next to him. Giggling, you watched Sangyeon climb on top of both of them as Juyeon egged him on. Changmin and Chanhee were relaxing in the jacuzzi while Kevin and Haknyeon were piling food on their plates at the snack bar.

Eric was thrown into the pool thanks to Sunwoo’s push and he emerged to the surface screaming and laughing. Using his powers to add more pressure, he splashed Sunwoo with water, who ran off shrieking.

“Do you not like the water as well?” you turned around to face Jacob.

“I don’t necessarily dislike it but I don’t really like it either,” he shrugged. “I don’t mind jumping in if the guys tell me to join.”

“Do you hate the water or are you afraid of it?” Haknyeon asked as he and Kevin took a seat next to you.

“I guess both?” you answered.

“You know, contrary to popular belief, I’m actually not that fond of large bodies of water either,” Kevin said as he offered Jacob a bite of his pizza. “Pretty weird for a water element, huh?”

“Hey, hey, we don’t stick to stereotypes. We are all individuals with personalities and preferences unique to our own character,” Jacob chided.

“Oh how I love confirmation biases,” Haknyeon joked.

You had to admit it was pretty interesting to see how each person matched and defied their element and animal characteristics. It was like taking a personality test and fervently agreeing with the parts that were true and blatantly ignoring the parts that weren’t.

The rest of the day was spent fooling around and playing games. There was never a dull moment with the boys. They were always in high spirits and full of energy.

Even at dinner, your table was the loudest one. Juyeon had been sneakily stealing a few bites of fish off of Haknyeon’s plate, who took great offense when he finally noticed. Meanwhile, Eric was bargaining with Younghoon for his chicken. At the mention of chicken, Hyunjae joined in on the negotiation of the last piece of meat.

So far, you haven't had a risky moment with either your element or animal. You were in complete control and didn’t need guidance—although Chanhee remained by your side just in case. When you made it back to your room to call it a night, you were relieved and proud that the trip was going smoothly without any hiccups.

Perhaps you spoke too early.

In one of the rooms down the hall, a girls’ night had turned awry. One of the girls, a water element, began crying and started a waterflow that got out of hand. The more she panicked and tried to stop it, the higher the water rose. It quickly seeped into the hallway and into other rooms.

With her friends screaming at her to make it stop, it only escalated with a loud whoosh as the door broke open from the pressure. Now in full panic mode, the girls shrieked and realized that the place was flooding from the inside out.

They trudged through the rising water to flee, banging on doors on their way out. Doors swung open as students woke up from the commotion.

By the time Juyeon finally managed to wake Eric up from his deep sleep, the water was nearly up to the bed. The roommates freaked out, wondering what the heck was going on. Juyeon quickly grabbed his bag and hurried Eric to leave.

On their way out, however, they saw that your door was still closed.

“Shit, Y/n can’t swim,” Eric gasped.

“The water’s not that deep yet. Let’s get her out while it’s still walkable,” Juyeon said as he threw his bag down and started walking towards your room.

Meanwhile, you were still sound asleep. You were startled awake by the pounding. When you registered the situation, the fear made you shift into a cat before you could get up and unlock the door. You anxiously glanced at the closed door as the water began to climb up your body.

Outside, Eric felt a pit form in his stomach. Getting worried, he decided to break your door open. With the help of Juyeon, he barely slammed the heavy wood down by mustering up all the strength he had.

“Y/n!” he yelled when he finally saw you.

You were struggling to keep your head above the water and it was getting harder by the second to not breathe in the liquid. He rushed to pick you up and kept you afloat even when he stumbled. The waves were now reaching his chest.

Juyeon transformed into his cat form to swim as Eric trekked through the hall. You were clinging onto him and Eric was holding onto you tightly as well. You could feel him pant and his heart beat fast. Tucked under his arm, you looked up to see beads of sweat falling from his forehead.

Your own heart skipped a beat at the sight. You could tell how much he cared for you. He made you feel wanted. Needed. Important.

You two were polar opposites but still complemented each other so well. He was the optimism you lacked and you were his rock. You kept him grounded and he made you laugh.

When you finally escaped to the deck, Juyeon stepped away to change back into a human and put on clothes. Your friends crowded around you, Younghoon drying you off with a towel and Chanhee placing a clean outfit next to you.

“Alright, everyone, settle down,” the headmaster called out, turning heads. “I’m glad you’re all safely out but it’ll take some time to drain the water. Please calmly stay in groups until we sort everything out.”

Thanks to your months of training, you were now able to sense when your transformation was about to occur. You grabbed the clothes with your mouth and ran off before you could flash anyone. You sheepishly returned wearing one of Chanhee’s pajama shirts and with water still dripping from your hair.

“Y/n!” Sunwoo dramatically whined, jumping you for a hug. Displeased, Eric peeled him off of you and handed you another towel.

“Thanks, Eric,” you smiled. “For… everything.”

“No problem,” he grinned as he ruffled your head.

“Thank God these two got you out safe and sound,” Sangyeon sighed in relief. You apologized for worrying everyone, to which Hyunjae insisted that you had no reason to feel sorry.

Luckily, the next day was not as eventful. A dinner party was prepared for the last night on the cruise and you got to dress up and have fun. You enjoyed a relaxing time in the ballroom with music playing from the speakers and the boys embarrassing themselves on the dance floor.

You giggled as you watched Changmin ask his crush for a dance after Chanhee quite literally pushed his friend to approach her. It was sweet to see both of them all shy in each other’s arms.

Juyeon nudged Eric and nodded in your direction to ask if he was going to ask you to dance as well. When Eric pretended not to know what he was talking about, Sunwoo joined in to tease him.

“Come on, bro. We all know you like her. Just hurry up and make a move already,” Sunwoo snickered.

“Ooh are we talking about Y/n?” Hyunjae came after eavesdropping.

“I hate you guys,” Eric rolled his eyes as he tried to hide his blush.

Learning from Chanhee, Sunwoo shoved his best friend towards you and fled after he bumped into you. Shooting him a glare, Eric silently swore at him with his eyes. He cringed before turning around to face you.

He felt his breath being stolen away when his eyes met yours. You were absolutely stunning. The glimmer of the chandelier shining on your enhanced your features and he found himself lost in your orbs.

From a few tables away, Kevin and Jacob had joined the other three guys to fanboy over the interaction. Juyeon whispered “he’s totally whipped” to Sunwoo who failed to hold back his laughter. Eric, however, didn’t even notice. He was too busy gaping at you.

“Uhh is there something on my face?” you asked, bringing your palm to your cheek. You were slightly self conscious at his intense staring.

“Beauty,” he blurted. Trying to play it cool, he acted confident and ignored the burst of laughter from his friends. You felt your face heat up at his comment and awkwardly coughed as you looked away.

“Y-You look great too,” you stuttered.

On his way to pour himself some more punch, Chanhee loudly told you to just dance with Eric. He passed by and continued to walk towards the drinks without a care as to how flustered he left you two. Your friends were practically doubling over in laughter at this point.

So Eric boldly held your hand and gently guided you to the dance floor. Feeling your body heat up, he applied his cooling powers on you to prevent you from igniting flames.

“I guess we could say there’s a spark between us,” he joked.

The rest of the night flew by in a blur. You hadn’t felt so carefree in so long. For the first time in a while, you weren’t hung up on the past or worried about the future. You simply appreciated the moment as you were living it.

You never expected things to turn out the way it did. With the death of your parents, you lost a lot of things. But your new friends made you feel complete again. They healed you in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

The revelation of your true identity also brought you peace. You no longer felt like the odd one out. Your own powers didn’t scare you and you felt safe learning about them at the boarding school.

However, you began to doubt all of that the second you docked back on land. You were chatting with Eric about his favorite ramen brand when an all-too-familiar voice made you freeze.

“Y/n..?” he carefully called out. He slowly came up to see if it really was you and gasped when he saw that it was.

Eric didn’t know why he suddenly felt uneasy. Maybe it was because an unknown male had made a reappearance in your life or maybe it was because he recognized the way he was looking at you. It was the same way he looked at you as well.

Chanhee, now protective and defensive, slightly pushed you to the back to ask who he was.

“It’s okay, Chanhee. He’s my friend,” you assured, stepping forward.

Juyeon scowled, not liking that you were interacting with people from the human world. It was borderline going against the rules.

“Hey, Hyunjoon. Long time no see,” you timidly greeted.

“Are you kidding me? You disappeared after a fire burned down your house and that’s all you have to say to me?” Hyunjoon fumed.

You winced at the pain evident in his voice. It had hurt you to ignore your best friend and there hadn’t been a day where you didn’t miss him. Guilt-ridden, you were unable to meet his eyes. He took you by surprise by pulling you in for a hug.

“We thought of the worst, Y/n,” he murmured. “I forgive you for going M.I.A. on me. It’s okay. Everything’s fine as long as you’re here.”

You choked back tears but couldn’t stop one from falling down your cheek. You heard the headmaster gathering the students to get on the bus back home and knew that you didn’t have much time before you had to leave him again. Sangyeon patted you on the shoulder and ran ahead to ask the headmaster for leniency.

“I-I have to go soon,” you stammered as you broke away from his embrace.

“Go where? You’re not coming back home?” Hyunjoon asked.

“I… have a new home now,” you gulped. “I can’t tell you where and I can’t promise that I’ll be able to see you again. But I’ve missed you. I still do.”

“Are you safe?” he whispered after staying silent for a bit. “Are you happy?”

You took a glimpse of your group of friends that was unconvincingly pretending to not listen to the conversation. It almost made you chuckle despite the situation.

“Yeah,” you trailed off. “I’m doing well, Hyunjoon. And I hope the same for you. I’m sorry.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” he forced a smile as he hugged you one last time. “Bye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Hyunjoon.”

It pained you to see him watch you walk away. Your heart broke with each step you took. On the ride back to the forest, you stared out the window. Eric, sitting next to you, softly squeezed your hand to offer you some comfort.

“I made the right choice, right?” you asked, leaning on his shoulder.

“Do you regret it?” he cautiously asked.

You thought about it. You definitely missed Hyunjoon and all of your other old friends. You also definitely felt bad that you left them behind without a word and still couldn’t provide an explanation. But at the same time, you’ve grown to love your new school and new friends. You no longer had to be on edge without even knowing the reason why. Creker Academy made you feel confident. The boys made you feel accepted. Eric made you feel loved.

“No,” you answered with certainty. “Not at all.”

a/n: for the eric to my sunwoo, @sohnhorizon

180 notes · View notes

violetsandfluff · 2 years

Text

Tidy Little Secrets: Part 1

Here she isss! 3.4k words of the slowest burn ever lol. Thank you for all of the love the sneak peek got! Just for navigation purposes, the small, red text is the same as that in the introduction. Again, this is an incredibly slow burn, so stick with me!!

TW: slight sexual tension, wet dreams, SLOW-ASS BURN ⚠️ mentions of toxic households, abuse, drugs, and many other sensitive topics for short amounts of time.

~~~

Being an adult is hard.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe them. Quite the contrary, really. The adults you were raised among seemed like purposeless puppets. They woke up on weekdays and went to work just to party on the weekends and cough up enough money for rent at the end of the month before repeating the cycle. And Even this “reckless” lifestyle seemed rigorous to maintain.

“Oh, Y/N,” she gushed. “Of course! Especially if your client is as gorgeous as mine.”

You couldn’t believe how well things were going. The dots were practically connecting themselves.

~~~

It was made of a welcoming tan stone with regal white pillars framing the front door. There were windows everywhere, and even they looked expensive.

“Y/N, right?” he inquired.

He held out his hand for a shake and you broke out into a cold sweat at the thought of touching him. As he raised his hand, his sleeve fell just enough to reveal the tattoos that lay beneath.

You tried to forget about his arms and focused on his voice. His accent made your name seem beautiful and exotic. This was too much.

You took his hand and shook it properly. “Yes,” you stuttered, straightening yourself, busying yourself by fixing your waistband to avoid eye contact. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Beautiful.” He let out a breathy chuckle.

He was so suave and articulate, speaking smoothly and making confident eye contact; a right businessman. And here you were, tripping over your words like the lower-class person you were.

You smiled gratefully, deciding to ignore his implication to your income and upbringing.

“I only have to work until one today, so I’ll be back to answer any of your questions. Sound good?”

You nodded, trying your best to keep your act together until he left.

“I just have one rule. Whatever you do, don’t touch the door at the end of the hallway on the third story. Okay?”

You nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“Harry,” he corrected with a cocky smile. “Call me Harry.”

His words echoed in your ears as he exited the door, briefcase in clutch. You locked the door behind him, sinking to the ground with your back to the wall, heart racing.

Once you’d peeled yourself from the spotless marble floor, you set off to explore the mansion. It was enormous. It looked so grand and regal from the outside, but the exterior was dull and unkempt compared to the interior.

Once you were past the rich mahogany door, the entry to the house was breathtaking. The ceiling was high and white, studded with decorative lights and a faux (or possibly real) crystal chandelier. The walls, adorned with decorative molding, were white and equally stunning. To your left, a door led to a cozy living room with a gorgeous fireplace, bougie white sofas, and an entire wall of bookshelves that were packed with books of every genre imaginable.

You spent an unreasonable amount of time examining the well-known titles and tracing your fingers over their gold-embroidered bindings.

A grand piano stood solemnly in the corner of the room, lid open as if it was calling you to it. Its bench looked deliciously comfortable and it was all you could do to ignore it. The thought of Harry spending his evenings here, surrounded by books and music, made your heart ache. Oh, how you longed to spend a night with him.

Eventually, you forced yourself to leave the room. You found yourself back in the entryway, realizing that it was much chillier than the living room. You hugged your arms to yourself instinctively, directing your attention to your right where a curved double staircase stood. You poked your head into the closet that hid beneath them and your jaw fell open. Your eyes scanned the dimly lit room, which brimmed with cleaning supplies. He really did have anything you’d need.

Beside the staircase, a short, narrow hallway led to a bright, open kitchen and dining room. You gasped in awe at the immaculate granite countertops, backsplash, and spotless appliances. There was an island in the center of the room with a row of stools lined up neatly beside it. A gorgeous floral arrangement was positioned in the middle of the island, serving as a hand-grown botanical centerpiece.

The left wall of the kitchen consisted of floor-to-ceiling windows, displaying a breathtaking view of Harry’s backyard. A bright turquoise pool was set further back into the lawn, behind rows of well-groomed flowers that probably had better self-care routines than you. They were full and colorful, bathing in the mid-spring sunlight. Buds were bursting from the stems, mere minutes away from blooming.

You could imagine Harry waking up at the crack of dawn to water and fertilize his flowers, helping them grow big and strong.

Once you had finished taking in his kitchen, you wandered up the staircase and found yourself on another floor of the spectacular mansion. This floor mainly consisted of spare bedrooms, bathrooms, and a second living room. This living room had more windows than the first, and the morning sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, filling the room beautifully with delicate shadows. A loveseat sat beneath the room’s big window with a glass coffee table positioned before it.

A thick book rested on the coffee table, along with a pair of reading glasses and a half-finished cup of coffee.

You perched yourself on the edge of the loveseat and picked up the book, opening it to where the bookmark was. You squinted at the tiny words, holding a hand up to shield your eyes from the sun. Your eyes scanned the page, absorbing the words at the speed of light. The jacketless binding made your reading unclear, but it was undoubtedly interesting. Who would have thought this attractive rich man liked romance novels?

After reading a few pages, you caught yourself. Who were you to be snooping around a stranger’s mansion? You set the book down on the coffee table, instinctively moving the bookmark to the page you had been reading. As soon as you’d done it, your heart dropped. How much had you read? Which pages had the bookmark been between? You flipped the pages back frantically, trying to comprehend the minuscule text as you went.

Time stood still.

Every time you recognized a sentence, your heart would flutter hopefully, only to be let down by the next line. Would Harry know you’d been snooping? Would he be mad? He wouldn’t fire you on the first day, would he? Just as it began to seem that all hope had been lost, you found the correct page. It was only one page away from the one you’d finished on. Cheeks flushing in embarrassment, you replaced the bookmark and set it back on the coffee table before scurrying from the room.

Once in the hallway, you remembered the instructions Harry had given you about the third story. What could possibly dwell behind the forbidden door? Your mind raced as you climbed the second flight of stairs, imagining all possible scenarios. By the time you reached the top of the staircase, you had concluded that his bedroom was probably behind the door.

Maybe it was messy and he was embarrassed. That wouldn’t make sense. You were there to clean, after all. Maybe he hid his valuables in there and he was afraid of you stealing something. Your neighborhood was notorious for robberies, after all. Damn stereotypes.

You paused, hand poised to twist the doorknob. Maybe he was hiding someone in there. Maybe he hid corpses in his closet. The thought of being in his strange mansion alone with countless limp, lifeless bodies sent chills down your spine. You retreated from the door as fast as your legs would carry you.

Down in the first-story living room, you sank into the couch, heart racing. What were you doing, meddling around like that? In a strange man’s house, even more. There was a reason he told you not to enter the room, and you were bound to respect that. You couldn’t risk losing such a wonderful job, after all.

It was a dream come true.

Your spine tingled deliciously as you imagined becoming Harry’s Cinderella. You could clean his house by day and be his sex toy by night. These daydreams kept you occupied as you reclined on his sofa, smiling simply to yourself. The same dialogue played on loop in your mind, wiping you out. Despite your mental urges, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

~~~

“Have you been good today, darling?”

“Yes.”

Harry cupped your chin as you nodded, eyes locking with his. “What have I told you? You can tell all the lies all you want. That doesn’t make them true.”

“I’ve been good,” you protested. “I’m not lying, why do you always accuse me of lying?”

“Hm. A little too mouthy f’your own good,” Harry commented with a frown, placing his thumb on your bottom lip. “I’ll have to fix that.”

You poked your tongue out, using it to lap at the pad of his thumb softly.

“Such a dirty girl. I might have to punish you for that.”

“I’m a good girl, daddy,” you whimpered, moaning softly as his fingers began circling your clit. “I don’t need a punishment.”

Harry pulled both of your wrists into one of his large hands, holding them behind your back.

“Be good f’me,” he warned. “I’m being nice now, but one more strike and you’re out.” With that, he removed your underwear and lowered his head to your dripping cunt. “Be good,” he repeated.

~~~

You awoke with a start. Jerking your head up, you looked around frantically. Once you had concluded that you were still alone, you sat back against the sofa’s luscious cushions, heart racing. Only then did you become aware of the warm, wet feeling in your underwear. You bit your lip, nearly drawing blood.

You rushed into one of the house’s many bathrooms to examine your flustered face in the mirror. Had you not been wearing makeup, you would have splashed ice-cold on your face water to snap you out of whatever trance you had fallen into.

The burning in your tummy didn’t alleviate with time. You paced Harry’s hallways, replaying the dream in your head. Every time you restarted, more of the details dwindled away, eventually leaving you with one line.

“A little too mouthy for your own good. I’ll have to fix that.”

A quick check of the time told you that Harry would be home any minute. Disregarding your conscience, you darted up the stairs and found yourself right in front of his forbidden door.

He should have known that his instructions tempted you to peek. Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to twist when you heard a sound from downstairs. A sound like a door shutting.

“Y/N!” Harry’s voice shouted. “I’m home, love. Where are you?”

Relief washed over your body, along with a pang of guilt. Who were you to disobey your master on your first day?

You descended the flights of stairs gradually, heart racing as Harry came into view. There he stood, briefcase still in tow, in the same gorgeous suit as earlier. His hair definitely wasn’t as precise as earlier, serving as a further turn-on.

“There you are!” His angelic face broke into a wide grin upon seeing you. “I was beginning to think you got lost.”

“Oh,” you said awkwardly, feeling heat rush to your face. Thoughts coursed through your mind going a million miles per hour. Had his cologne smelled this good when he left? Had his lips always looked so smooth and delicious? Had his eyes always been that green and glittery?

“You okay, darling?” he inquired, stepping closer to you as he set his briefcase down. “Y’look pretty pale.”

“I-I’m okay,” you managed, stumbling backward drunkenly. “How was work?”

“Good,” he smiled contentedly. “How was your day? Did you show yourself around a bit? Stayed out of the room upstairs, I assume?”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips. Your heart began palpitating upon remembering your daydreams. “It was good.”

“Just good?” Harry feigned disappointment. “Go on, honey. Curiosity killed the cat.”

“I just have one question,” you stalled, using the toe of your sneaker to trace the marble pattern on the floor. “What’s in the room upstairs?” you blurted out, hugging your arms to yourself in shame when the question escaped. “I’m sorry.”

“‘S alright, love, it’s only my bedroom. It’s just a bit messy, that’s all.”

“Sorry if that was rude,” you said desperately. “I promise, I didn’t go in. Just… curious, you know?”

“I know,” Harry put a large hand on your trembling back. “You’re okay, doll. I can show you if you want.”

“Show me your room?” You barely dared to believe his words. The world felt like it was rushing around you. You could barely stand up out of mere disbelief.

Harry nodded, rubbing circles on your back with his fingertips. “It’s nothing special, especially compared to all this.” His arm swept fluidly across the room. “But ‘f you’re that curious, I’ll show you.”

“It’s up to you, sir. Harry. Mr. Styles.”

Harry cast you a charming smile that showed off his dimples, shaking his head in amusement. “It’s Harry, darling. That’s all you need to know. Follow me.”

You followed him up the stairs, trying not to stare at his gorgeous ass as you went, but there it was. Right in front of your face.

Once you were outside his door, he turned the doorknob and let the door fall open. The room was much darker than the rest of his mansion. The curtains hadn’t been opened yet and the California king bed remained unmade. His room wasn’t as pristine as the rest of the house by any means, but his bougie style was still evident.

Half of his room was a workspace, holding a large, modern desk and a row of tidy file cabinets. His desk was littered with small plants and his papers were arranged in neat stacks. The other half of his room held his bed, the window, two nightstands, and his closet. The closet door was mildly ajar, open far enough for you to glimpse the orderly lineup of clothes inside.

He was really too good to be true.

“Was it all you imagined?”

Harry’s low voice startled you from your thoughts. Were you really coming off as that much of a creep?

“What do you mean?” You tried to laugh it off, but your burning hot cheeks were a dead giveaway.

“I was only joking, love. Anyway, I haven’t got anything f’you to do today, but I can show you around some more if you’d like.”

“That’s okay,” you said quickly, backing away. “Thanks for everything!”

Before he could respond, you were down the stairs and out the door.

Taglist (either interact with this for all of my writings or comment on this post for this series): @victoria-styles @witchywolfewood27 @ilovemuppets @rueluvsharry @sunshinemoonsposts @namelesssav couldn’t tag u bestie :( @pamelagramm @lukesaprince @madybeth21 couldn’t tag u either ): @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mrspeacem1nusone @cayleyhannha-blog @babygirl-jj

#tidy little secrets #TLSrry #older!harry #ceo!harry #housekeeper!y/n trope #Harry styles #Harry styles fanfic #Harry styles fic #Harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles x you #Harry styles x y/n #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart #fanfic

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fascination-street-writing · 4 years

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Somewhere to Begin | Pannacotta Fugo x Ghirga!Reader

He has always adored you, like the sun and the moon and more - but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

- 200 Follower Giveaway Piece iii for @idontlikerisottounlessitsnero -

Content Warnings: Not SFW Content, Post Break-Up, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Regret, & Explicit Sexual Content (Aged-Up Characters)

You had promised your brother Narancia to never involve yourself directly with Passione; even the occasional stay for a meal at Il Libeccio made him antsy, yet you failed to see the harm in sharing a plate of bruschetta with Fugo, or a pot of hot tea with Abbacchio – two of his closest companions. It was only fair that you ought to spend time with the men who gave you unbridled protection at the behest of nothing more than goodwill and magnanimity. Not that you needed such security, but it kept street thieves from picking your pockets, at least.

You had promised him indeed, and now that he lies in the casket before you – clad in the suit from your mother’s funeral that you never thought to see him wear again – you intend to keep it. Giorno had offered to have an outfit tailored for your brother, but you refused him with consternation that your he would not be buried in something from the boy responsible for his death.

“No,” you had told him, cold as the wall of ice that has crept around your heart, while clutching the woolly material to your chest. “This one will do nicely.”

And so, the mortician severed the seam along the back of the jacket and draped a silk sheet over Narancia’s legs so that no one would be wiser to fact that his ankles stick out past the bottom hem of his trousers. It was bad enough that you could not afford the casket on your own. You knew better than to believe it when Mista told you that it and the headstone were paid for with the money yielded from the liquidation of Bucciarati’s assets. If that were true, then why not pay for a new suit, too?

Trish snatches a single white lily from the memorial wreath and tucks it between your brother’s still, clasped fingers. She hides her grief behind a pair of sunglasses that do not match the overcast weather that looms above your heads. You had not wanted to wait so long for the funeral – for two months, Narancia’s body had been left in the morgue to chill on ice, par Giorno’s insistence that the service must wait until his transfer of power over Passione has finished.

Thus, for two months, you had lain awake at night, shuddering at the melancholy and its melody that reminds you how you your brother died without saying farewell – his platonic little soulmate. Giorno may have his victories and suffer for them, but you would not let him entomb Narancia in the mausoleum with Bucciarati and Abbacchio.

“He’ll be buried next to our mother,” you said to the new Don with indignancy. “After everything you’ve taken from me, let me have this. Lascia che mio fratello torni a casa – let my brother come home.”

Your wish was granted, though you suspect it only so because he was growing tired of fighting with you over burial rights and passages. The congregation is kept small, consisting only of yourself, Mista, Trish, a tortoise named Jean-Pierre Polnareff, regrettably Giorno, and a handful of bodyguards, though the latter kept their distance from the immediate service; it would not come as a surprise to you, should you learn that the men in black suits were employed to protect their Don from the mournful sister of the deceased.

The handkerchief clutched in your grasp is damp with past tears. Not even your father had come, despite your pleading that he ought to pay his respects to his only son. Too preoccupied with his floozy of a new wife and her children from two previous marriages than to love his own – you never needed him in your life anyways, because you had Bucciarati. Now, you suppose that you must be a proper orphan.

You do not weep when the casket seals and cleaves the line of sight betwixt you and your brother forever. You do not weep when the mechanical apparatus lowers the coffer made of Osage orange wood into the steel vault that already holds your mother in oak. You do not weep when the gravediggers shovel the dirt mound back over the crest of opened earth.

You do not weep until Mista clasps your trembling hand, pulls you to his chest, and embraces you amidst the anguish that burns you alive. His is the consolation that you needed, but never thought to ask for, though it is not his touch that you long for. One by one, the attendees disperse for the train of luxury cars and you remain alone with the gunslinger who had been courteous enough to come without his oddly patterned beanie hat.

“Why don’t we get going?” Mista urges to coax you away from the gravesite – away from yourself and the suffocating agony. “Giorno’s having dinner for us all, back at the estate.”

You pull away. Rivets of mascara stain his white dress-shirt. “You can go on ahead,” you tell him, not quite liking the way your voice strains in your throat. “I’m not hungry.”

“Then, let’s go grab some coffee or something –”

“I’m fine, Mista.” He frowns and averts his gaze. “I have some things I need to take care of.”

“Oh?”

You tug your cardigan closer to your chest. “I’m going to collect Narancia’s belongings from our dad’s house. Not sure what I’ll do with it all, but I know it can’t stay there.”

Mementos of life, from when things were far simpler and your brother far more alive. Family photographs with tattered edges and holes of where your father should have been, wedged between unread and abused schoolbooks. Worn out blue jeans with patches of fabric scraps from your mother’s old dresses that you had sewn on for him. A collection of empty glass soda bottles. CDs and cassette tapes of Snoop Dog, Tupac, and whatever other American rappers had appealed to his tastes.

“Alright, I guess. Promise me you’ll call when you get there.”

Soon to be packed away in cardboard boxes and to be stacked precariously in the living room of your studio apartment – another gift from Bucciarati – with nowhere else to go. You simply cannot afford to rent a storage unit downtown.

“I will.”

Mista does not offer to help, because he knows you will refuse it. With that, he takes his leave of you in the cemetery. Left to your solitary devices, you clench your fists and stew on hatred and loathing for none other than Giorno Giovanna. You do not blame Narancia for his eagerness to trust the boy so quickly; his charisma, as appealing as it entreats to the willing, is an infectious disease.

If not for Giorno, your brother would have been buried two months ago. If not for Giorno, your brother might still be alive. And perhaps you must resent Fugo too, for what he has done – or rather, the lack thereof of doing; yet for everything, you are incapable of such feelings, as you have always been fond of each other. The optimistic heart within you stands that he has saved you from suffering more – that in his choice to stay behind in Venezia, it only meant you would not have to bury him, too.

Because surely, his unrestrained anger would have gotten him killed – if not before, then certainly after Narancia’s death.

With a quivering sigh, you turn from this dreary place and meet his illegible violet stare. A row of crackling headstones separates you from the boy whom you love more than life itself. Fugo clutches a pretty bouquet of daffodils wrapped with parchment paper and a white-string bow – your favorite flowers, though you wonder whether they are meant for you or your brother’s fresh grave.

You do not know, nor will you ever, as he sets the flowers atop the nearest monument and makes off, as if on sabbatical to you.

And it fills you with nothing more than bitterness.

“Everyone misses you,” Mista confesses between a sip of tea and a bite of strawberry cake. “You should come around sometime soon.”

Nearly a year has passed since the funeral, and you have yet grace anyone from Passione with your presence, with the exception of Mista for weekly sojourns to Il Libeccio to catch up on life – because, as you have learned, much can happen in seven days’ time. With each occasion of crossing the archway’s threshold into the private dining room at the back of the restaurant, you find yourself preening for two heads of black hair – one neatly combed and clipped, the other a sprawl held in place with an orange headband –, taut lips painted in black, and Fugo. And every time, you are left with the kind of disappointment that curdles your soul like sour milk.

“Who misses me, Mista?” you reprimand, pointing your icing-lacquered fork in his direction. “I barely even know Trish, and I have no interest in ever speaking with Don Giovanna again.”

You wish Giorno would call off the bodyguard who trails you every waking hour of the day; it makes you feel like a child who has proven herself untrustworthy to her parent. But you have done nothing deserving of such punishment. You suspect that his intent is an extension of the olive branch treaty that does not exist between you two – a reiteration of Bucciarati’s protection that should not have to be reiterated, because he should not be dead, either.

Or, alternatively, he wants to irk you so far that you might barge into his office one day – fuming with unspent determination to admonish him regarding his dominion over your life – just to trap you in a conversation wherein he might attempt to suspend your animosity towards him. Alas, you are simply not interested; you will scorn him, because it is all you can do.

“Forget I asked . . .” Mista trails off, swirling a dollop of whipped cream with his knife. “So uh, by the way, have you seen Fugo lately?”

Just the utterance of his name has you perking in your seat.

“No.”

“Hm, well, rumor has it, he’s working at the public library. Shaking people down for late fees or something like that.” It is not implausible to imagine Fugo in the position of extorting old ladies and young children for overdue fines – but, you know that it is only a jest. Regardless, he has always been the type of boy to surround himself with books instead of people. “Why not visit him sometime? He’s not affiliated with Passione anymore. Or, not now, at least.”

You stab at a strawberry. It bleeds beneath the weight of your fork.

“I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”

Mista’s question is one that you ought to be asking yourself, as you sit here at the scratched pine desk of the library – pretending to study for an upcoming exam on the history of art in Pompeii – though you look up from your scrawl of notes every few minutes to see if Fugo should pass you by; perhaps pushing a cart of books to be put away, or branding return cards with a plush red stamp to mark the date in two weeks’ time.

You have seen him only once more since his implied attempt of reconciliation at your brother’s funeral. It was by chance that you should wander into the same café as him that day; and by extended odds that – while you stood over his table with a sad smile and a cup of coffee – he stood abruptly and left without finishing his own drink. He had not even bothered to wish you well.

Today, you catch him on your way to the reference section. The look of hurt in his eyes – like salt instead of sugar on the tongue – brings a scowl to your face. “Please, Panni,” you plead, and though your fingers ache to catch his hand with your own, you refrain for you know the gesture is a crossing of the line between you two. “Can’t we just talk?”

“No,” he says, so dry and unrecognizable. “I’m not getting paid to do that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Panni, I – Please, don’t do this. I already lost my brother: don’t make me lose you, too.”

A fuse switches in his head, and you have been the one to flip it. He clutches the encyclopedia in his hands with such fervor that his knuckles pale, and for a moment, you wonder if he means to hit you with it. And maybe he thinks it too, but he drops it atop the ground as soon as the thought crosses his mind. He takes a step back, as if you have scorned him – maybe, after all, you have.

The cover spills open, and the pages bend against the hardwood floor. You wish he would do the same to you – to disclose his grievances and let you in. Instead, it is the toxicity of acrimony “Don’t ever come near me again,” Fugo warns. “Haven’t you realized by now that I never want to see you again? Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.”

You will save the tears for when you stand in front of the bathroom mirror tonight before bed to wash away your makeup from the day, amongst other regrets. But you will never understand the guilt that suffocates him – a noose that is just taut enough to keep him breathing – each time he looks at you, and even when he does not. You are everything he has ever wanted and more.

And you are the emblem of everything he has ever done wrong.

“I still care about you,” you tell him with an affirmation that will not fix the desolation. “Doesn’t that mean anything?”

He bites his lip and looks away.

“I know you’re hurting. I am too. So, can’t we heal together?”

“Are you stupid?” You grimace at his words. “I told you to go.”

There is no chance to dispute it, nor to bid him an aggrieved adieu, because he is gone again. Burying him might have been easier, after all; a corpse cannot remind you of what a fool you have become.

And so it seems to you that dying dreams are the best ones.

Adulthood is – as you have found in your years of treading its waters – a dreadful inevitability. You and your brother’s boxes have outgrown that compact studio apartment, though for years, you had made it work perfectly fine. When Giorno pulled the strings to terminate your lease and forcefully relocate you into a sizeable townhouse in the Chiaia district, you wanted to hate him for it – for his reminder that you cannot sever your connection to Passione. Yet, boggled down with university loans, you were in no position to turn down his assistance.

And he knew it, well.

A pretty townhouse located in one of the nicest regions of Napoli cannot bring Narancia back, nor can it attune for every bit of suffering incurred since his death; but if it is a strain upon the aging Don’s wallet, then it is all the better.

On the day of your fourth birthday spent in solitude, you treat yourself to a tub of gelato and a dress from the costly boutique across the street that you will never wear because you have no need to. It will hang in your closest amongst other unworn gowns, still pinched with price tags, that you have impulsively accumulated over the years – a hereditary habit of your mother’s that had caused more than a few spats between she and your father. You know your vice, but there is something so gratifying about it.

You sink into the tweed couch that does not quite match the architect’s vision for the living room – with its crown-mould white walls and hardwood floors the color of wenge; too clean and proper for what furniture you have kept from your former residence. Silver spoon clenched between your teeth as you page through television channel after channel, you balance that melting gelato on your lap. Perhaps you should have grabbed a straw from the kitchen as well.

The evening passes by, uneventfully so. You have spent it spoiling yourself and replying with fabricated enthusiasm to incoming text messages from study mates, who wish you well on this happy day – as if you have a reason to remember your twenty-first beyond the accomplishment of finishing the entire tub of would-be-frozen lemon curd without incurring a single regret or twinge a of brain-freeze. You have gotten rather good at knocking back shots without needing to stop for breaths, too.

At the ringing of the doorbell, you are torn from the real estate program that you have invested so much time these past few hours. Mista, no doubt – come to deliver a gift and takeout because he knows you have not eaten properly tonight. You have no room left in your belly, but whatever he brings will make for a decent meal tomorrow.

You do not bother to tidy up, and when you open the door, you wish you had. Illuminated only by the balcony light stands Fugo with a bouquet of daffodils, a bottle of sauvignon blanc, and a remorseful, sheepish smile upon his handsome face.

Get out of my life – get out of my dreams – and leave me alone.

“Uh . . . “ He trails off before he has even begun, perhaps taken aback by the widening of your eyes and the disheveled appearance that, despite your own judgement, he thinks to be the most beautiful vulnerability in life. He speaks your name with the kind of tenderness that you have not felt since you were teenagers. “Buon compleanno.”

You need not ask how he found you, because you know without question that either Mista or Giorno had told him. “Why are you here?” you ask.

He clutches the flowers a bit tighter. You do not move to take them; however, you have already decided on which vase you will place them in. “I wanted to wish you a happy birthday. And give you these.”

The bottle of wine feels far too heavy in your arms – and the daffodils, as if they might float off in an unforeseen gust of wind. “And, to apologize. For too many things that I can’t ever make right; although, if you’ll let me, I’d like to try.”

“Fugo, I . . . I don’t know.”

“Please, [Y/N]. That day in the library, all those years ago . . . I never stop thinking about the horrible things I said to you. It killed me – it ate me alive; I thought for all this time and before that you hated me, because of what happened to Narancia. Because I wasn’t there to save him.”

“It hurt when you told me to get out of your life, but I listened, and I did it.”

He brings the heel of his hand to swipe at the tears in his eyes. The curling of his other fist is a gesture that terrifies you – although, not for your own sake. “I couldn’t face you. I was scared to look you in the eye, because I thought you hated me,” he mutters like a broken record as his voice cracks with agony. “I thought you hated me, because of him.”

He stops, throwing his head back with a groan. The apple of his throat bobs up and down as he chokes down a sob. He refuses to look at you when he speaks again – too afraid to come undone before he has made his peace with you, his greatest loss. “We were young. Probably too young to even understand what love really meant. But, dio dannazione, you were the most important thing to me, and I understood that more than love.”

His words have always held the capacity for swaying you, as if they replenish the empty spaces within. It is why, as you open the door wider, you let him fill you once again. Fugo contemplates the crannies of your living room, hovering above the couch that you insisted he take a seat upon – he remembers when you bought it, because you had dragged him to the furniture outlet that day. He pretended to be annoyed, though in truth, he was beyond elated that you had chosen him over Mista, or even your brother.

“I guess I should put these in a vase,” you say about the bouquet of flowers. “They’re beautiful, Fugo. Thank you.”

He nods, suddenly entranced by a photograph of Narancia that sits atop the fireplace mantel. You do not notice his unease.

“I’ll grab us some glasses, too.”

You find your vase in the kitchen cabinet niched into the alcove above the refrigerator. Its emerald swirls glisten under the twine of the recessed lights that add no character to the room. So much for a birthday spent in reclusion, you chide alone. Deep within you sits a fire that longs to ignite – to send Fugo away in some thwarted act of retribution for the very loneliness he inflicted upon you years ago; as if to say that the rejection suits you well.

Of course, you cannot deny that your heart leapt into your throat when you saw him standing before the front door, a vision of a man who still held those inklings of boyish charm that you fell for in your adolescence. They say you should not dote over the first person beyond your mother and father to call you pretty; it is weakness to complacency. Your life has never been one of convention – and so by that right, who there is to insist that you must abide?

Bearing a content grin, you trim the stems one-by-one to better fit the vase. In synchronous rhythm to the next, the green stalks bounce from the cluttered countertop to the floor. You have only just stuffed the flowers back into the vase when the shattering of glass resonates its way into the kitchen.

The photograph of Narancia lies amongst bits of broken frame and wreckage. Face buried in his palms, Fugo crumples until his knees meet the ground; he shakes, as if smothered by a chill. When his hands fall to smack the coffee table – baring his grief, in all its pandemonium – you catch them and force his arms around your waist instead; his fingers lock together, holding you in place. He whimpers against your stomach. Already, you can feel the wetness of tears through the fabric of your overstretched shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m sorry, [Y/N]. I’m sorry.”

Your own fingers curl through his strawberry blonde hair – a means of stability as you too have begun to cry. “It’s just a picture frame,” you promise, and it is the grandest thing he has ever heard. But it is more than a box made of wood and glass – it is an impossible longing. “I’m not upset at you.”

“I . . . Okay.”

Mindful of the mess, you rock him backwards until he is lying down. You join at his side, take his hand into your own, and wait in silence for the moment when his misery will dissipate for clarity. Regardless of the circumstances that have brought him here tonight, you are grateful for it – even if your birthday is spent wallowing in irrevocable regret.

Above all else, you know that he has always adored you, like the sun and moon and more – but he had a brilliant way of convincing you otherwise.

Your thumb coaxes over the back of his knuckles. “There’s a crack in your ceiling,” Fugo announces, nonchalant and monotone.

“Where? I don’t see one.”

He raises an unoccupied finger, and you follow its gesture to the corner of the ceiling, just above where the moulding meets. It is no longer than the length of hair from his head, and quite honestly, not an underlying issue of foundational complications. Still, you indulge him. “Oh, wow. I never noticed.”

In this hasty repertoire of patterns, you fall into stillness again. “Panni,” you whisper with the utterance of his endearing name. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He squeezes your hand.

“But it’s getting late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Truthfully so, you cannot send him on his way in such a state of disarray.

“I can make up the couch for you, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please,” he murmurs.

However, you do not make it far because he has – inspired by a need to express his devotion and apologia – pulled you atop himself, hands braced on your hips as you balance on bent knees and grasp his shoulders. Tenderness is becoming of the boy – no, the man – who looks up at you as if you are the embodiment of everything good that exists in one life to the next. It is a side that he has never shown to anyone other than you.

You covet it like a piece of cherry-flavored candy, even when you lean down to capture his lips and nip at his tongue that likewise explores the long-forgotten caverns of your mouth. It is a distraction of meaning and not; from the broken frame, loss, and perhaps everything in between. Every attempt to catch a breath of air is met with resilient protests of needier touches and not before long, you lie on the couch – shedding your clothing like the skin of the woman you no longer wish to be – and let him in.

Bare chest to bare chest, you cup his hardness as he places his fingers to your untouched folds. You mean to tell him that you love him, but the penetration of unpracticed digits to your core stifles the very thought from your scattering mind. In dark closets and empty rooms, you two have had your share of imprudent experimentation with one another’s bodies in the past – and nothing more than warm, tentative touches that lead to girlish giggles and boyish huffs.

Fugo pinches your nipple, drawing a plush gasp from you; it urges him to do it again until at last you are throbbing with need from your lower half, your pelvis jerking upwards to meet his for the stimulation of wanting. His breath ghosts your face, and you think you smell wine – a drink for good luck, you think, because despite the distress manifesting in his soul, his mannerisms are otherwise as habitual as you might recall from moments of normalcy.

It feels wrong – to be filled with such wanton, salacious desire within the very hour that you have both spent in mourning of your brother and everything else that has been discarded to the wind, to be picked up by someone else. Yet tonight, you will not sleep with Fugo to forget your blue heart, nor for celebration’s sake as you embark upon another year of being – you will sleep with him, because you have grown tired of learning how to end your days without him.

“I haven’t . . .” You trail off, mesmerized by the way his violet eyes look at you; though puffy and stained red from crying, you take them in as he cocks a brow, imploring you to finish your thought. “I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

“Good,” he sighs, and you think he is trying to hide a smile. “Me neither.”

Braced by his arms, you are flipped onto your stomach. The tweed upholstery bites into the soft flesh of your breasts with each jostle elicited by the curling of a finger within you. You push backwards until you swear you can feel his fingers against your cervix.

“Oh my god,” he groans, flexing out as if to move deeper. “Ti senti così bene.”

“If it feels good, then do something,” you whine, hands dug between the cushions for support.

But, to your chagrin, he takes his time to admire the way your folds pulsate around just two fingers. You glisten like a gem – his gem. Indignant with petty annoyance, you pull away and straddle the lithe, albeit toned, legs that dangle off the edge of the couch. Arms thrown around his neck, you sink down until you have reached your fill of his manhood.

“I did tell you to do something,” you sigh at Fugo’s displeasure, biting your lip as you adjust to the size of his shaft. “Didn’t I?”

He kisses you once and moves grasp your backend. You savor the feeling of him ingulfing you. “I was distracted.”

You would laugh if not for the anticipated bulging inside you as Fugo buckles into your heat. The sight of your jostling breasts with each bounce of you on his cock is a page of some heavenly doctrine – one that he should study and commit to forever. He moves with strength that he reserves for moments of rage, and even his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave bruises for the days to come. You do not mind; they will help you to remember the best night you have had in years.

With a cry that blossoms into a moan that tells him that he has treated you well, you ride out your orgasm and slump against his chest in your own exhaustion. When he reaches his peak, he slides out; you reach for him – dampened with your slick – and finish him until white pearls bead at the tip and trickle over your working fingers.

Foreheads pressed together, you flash tired grins before settling against the cushions, your head pressed to his chest and his arm braced around the small of your back while his fingers trace shapes against your perspired skin.

Panting, his heart skips every few beats – like a song, sung only for you. Content with that which has returned itself to you, you fall asleep to the sound of this lovely little love affair.

| 4966 Words |

#pannacotta fugo x reader #fugo x reader #pannacotta fugo #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader

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sarahlynnirl · 3 years

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Losing my best friend - Sugar Daddy culture is not empowering

I finally feel strong enough to talk about this and hopefully get some love, support, and reassurance from other women who agree that this is fucked up. I’ve never been “terfy on main” before so here goes. (TW child abuse + SA but no graphic descriptions of SA)

My mother is a narcissist who financially and emotionally abused my father and myself, with some additional physical abuse of me, for as long as I can remember. My dad made plenty of money but my mom controlled it all and made sure it didn’t go towards anything for me beyond the bare minimum required not to look obviously guilty of child abuse and neglect. I met Kiara (not her real name) when I was a junior in highschool and she was a freshman. Her mom was a single Korean woman doing her best to support Kiara and her 2 sisters while also running a Korean restaurant. My first jobs were a summer camp counselor and fitting room attendant at Forever 21. I would spend the last scraps of my paycheck making sure Kiara was able to order a full meal when our friends went out to dinner, buying her little gifts, and generally trying to keep us both as happy and healthy as possible.

When Kiara graduated highschool her mom drove her into Koreatown New Jersey, got her a room in the apartment of an acquaintance, and basically left her to fend for herself. Kiara spoke barely any Korean. She began working at a Korean salon where she met Ariana (not her real name). She had a NY cosmetology license, not an NJ one, while Ariana was an illegal immigrant from Korea so they were both overworked, underpaid, forced to work overtime, paid under minimum wage, and deprived of their tips. They couldn’t report or complain about this since they were both working illegally.

Kiara had to pay rent for the one room she occupied despite her land lady yelling at her, walking into her room while she slept, banning her from having friends over, and reporting to her mom if she spoke to a guy on the phone or a guy dropped her off. I was working at a restaurant in my college town on top of my classes and doing my best to keep surprising her with little gifts, but neither of us had enough disposable income to afford to visit each other. This was really difficult for me as she was my favorite person in the world and I was used to spending every second with her when we both lived in upstate NY. Ariana got them both to start using SeekingArrangement for one time meet ups with Sugar Daddies where they were paid anywhere from $200-2000 for sex. “The first time I ever did it I walked out of the hotel and just screamed because I was so disgusted and I was thinking about his wrinkly skin touching mine and all I wanted to do was get in the shower and scrub it off but I had $1000 cash in my hand for a couple hours of work which was so crazy and kinda made it all worth it ya know?” - Ariana to me

I was immediately skeptical and a little grossed out but Kiara genuinely seemed happier. She was buying new clothes for herself, ordering food to the apartment when she was hungry, and taking trips into NYC to have fun with Ariana and her friends. By the beginning of the summer of 2019, Kiara had found the Sugar Daddy who she would establish a long term agreement with and who ultimately ended up completely supporting her. I’m not going to say his name here but if people want to know it just ask, I am willing to share. He moved her into a much nicer much bigger apartment with Ariana as her roommate. He paid for me to fly up and visit her, and all of our activities during this vacation. I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry. I wish I shoved the money back in her hand before it was too late, I wish I worked harder and longer hours and got us an apartment in Florida and paid both of our rent. I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t listen to my instincts and allowed her to brush off my concerns. It was the most freedom we had ever had, I ran around NYC by myself while she was at work, and my ex took the bus to NJ from upstate NY and joined us for a few days. I feel so selfish but I also didn’t know how bad things would get.

One night Kiara and I went to NYC for dinner with her SD and she took the bus back to the apartment because she had to work early the next morning. It made sense for me to stay in the city because I was supposed to visit my friend at NYU the next morning. In the Uber to his apartment alone with him he was drunk and high and I very clearly looked scared shitless. At this point she was 19 (but she had looked that way since age 17 and I doubt he would have minded if she was lying about her age), I was 21 and he was 44. He seemed offended by my discomfort and was basically like “jeez relax I’m not gonna touch you, I really care about Kiara I think she’s so amazing, just go to the guest room and sleep, make a left to walk to NYU when you wake up.” I peaced the fuck out of there early the next morning.

After that summer Kiara and Ariana quit their jobs at the Korean salon and sugaring became their sole incomes. Ariana was still doing one time meet ups, not nearly as financially stable as Kiara, and got herself into a lot of credit card debt that to my knowledge she’s still in. At this point Kiara was flying down and staying with me in Florida so often that people at my college thought she went there too. I also wasn’t working at this point because college had gotten harder and my ex was fucking up my mental health real bad. He had given me a coke problem and Kiara sending me “grocery money” was enabling me to continue. I wasn’t honest with her about where all the money was going. During Halloween week we didn’t know that she couldn’t just snort molly (MDMA) with the frequency I was doing coke, she ODed, my guy best friend took us to the ER, it was so fucking scary, she got IV fluids for 2 hours and made a full recovery, she stopped doing molly, I kept doing coke. I’m so sorry :(

In November her SD paid for us to take a trip to Cancun Mexico. He was with us for the first part of the trip and this is where things started to get really bad. He tried to be my friend and act the way a boyfriend of my best friend who was my age would, but it was creepy and wrong and I was so uncomfortable. He asked about my drug use in a way that was gross and shamey and basically him seeing me as the “coke whore” stereotype...while continuing to buy me more coke. He also brought and gave us ecstasy pills. He asked really invasive questions about my relationship with my ex, why I stayed, my sex life, etc. It felt like an uncle asking me these questions, I did NOT wanna talk about any of this with him. But from what I did say it was very clear to someone with 44 years of life experience that I had an abusive mother, an addictive personality, and was in an unhealthy relationship. He offered to set me up with an SD friend of his looking for a sugar baby. I of course declined because I always knew this was a boundary I wasn’t willing to cross. No matter how bad my addictions got I would NOT give up that piece of myself in return for money.

In this part of Mexico, drugs that were only given with a prescription in the US were available over the counter. Kiara and I got a little box of 1mg Xanax with my money. My ex had given us Xanax a couple times in NY and we had fun with it, but at this point in time we did NOT have a problem with it. We had bought one bar, broken it in half, and each took half one night of Halloween week and called it “xanpires”, but this wasn’t something we were scripted or buying regularly from plugs. We went to dinner with her SD, we got up to go to the bathroom, and she immediately slipped and hit the ground. I was like woah did you take one of the xans and forget? Because we were supposed to tell each other if we were taking one so we could look out for each other. I was never mad at her! I never wanted money from her! I was just a little concerned, and once I determined that she was safe we thought it was kinda funny that she had taken a xan without realizing and started joking around about it. Her SD of course didn’t understand how a 19 year old and 21 year old girl joke with each other because he was a creepy old man, decided that we were “arguing”, and got up from the restaurant, walked across the street, bought a 90 count bottle of 2mg xans and gave it to me. This was honestly the most irresponsible way someone has ever treated me in my life, and this is coming from someone with an abusive and neglectful parent. Google “benzo withdrawal” if you’re not familiar with it.

We went to a different hotel, and Kiara and I both took xans and blacked out. I passed out on the guest bed, while Kiara was awake but in a conscious blackout. I woke up on the couch on the balcony (which was fine, it was comfy and I saw the sunrise over the beach. The gross part was that meant her SD had picked me up, put his hands on my body while I was unconscious and carried me out there). I remembered that at one point I had woken up, wanted to go to the bathroom or get something from inside, caught a glimpse of what I thought was them having sex, and went back outside. I mentioned it to Kiara and she had no memory of it whatsoever, she thought all she had done was gone to sleep. She was rightfully pissed the fuck off that her SD had taken advantage and done things with her while she was blacked, screamed at him, he gave us a half ass apology, and bought us more stuff (buying our silence). He finally flew home and we got to enjoy the trip with just each other, but I was careless with the dosage of a drug called tramadol, and I ODed with my head in her lap...I’m sorry. When I woke up I was hallucinating, hearing voices, crying hysterically and terrified. Kiara called my ex who asked how many mg I took, told us I was 100mg short of the amount that would require medical attention, made me laugh, and told me to go to sleep. I recognize how scary and unfair to her this was and I really do take responsibility for my actions. The day I was supposed to leave I did ecstasy, hooked up with a guy from Canada, and tried to skip my flight. She was mad because like yeah what the fuck. She got me on the flight, the ecstasy comedown hit, and there’s pictures of me crying in the airport because I hated when we fought.

I was supposed to stop in Miami, then fly back to my college town but while in Miami I texted my granny that I was “sad and really didn’t feel good and could she and my uncle visit me at the airport and bring my uncles dog?”. Her parenting instincts went off that something was very wrong, made me skip the flight, picked me up from the airport and took me to her house where I immediately threw up and ran an extremely high fever that night. She said it was one of the scariest nights of her life and she kept checking on me to see if I needed to go to the hospital. She drove me back to my college town where my guy best friend took me to the ER and it came out that Kiaras SD, in addition to giving me drugs, had also allowed me to drink Mexican tap water throughout the entire trip. I was treated for that + given chlamydia meds just in case since I’d had unprotected sex in a foreign country. I was fine, promised to do better, Kiara forgave me, things started to go back to normal. Except I had begun taking Xanax daily to deal with the anxiety of the illness...and she had a trip to Bali planned.

During that trip things managed to get even worse. She was there with her SD and another Korean friend and her SD was pressuring her and guilting her into sex, isolating her from her friend, going through her phone, and becoming extremely aggressive. She would call me crying and having panic attacks and I would walk out of class to try to comfort her over FaceTime. She did not have panic attacks before this trip. She begged to go home early because something was very wrong but he said it was a waste of money and kept her in Bali until the planned end of the trip. I think it was almost a month. She sent me a recording she secretly took of him screaming at her and her saying “don’t touch me, don’t grab me like that, leave me alone”. When she got back to the US I was begging her to stop. I was so worried for her safety. I said the money wasn’t worth it, we’ll get jobs, please just stop. I’m pretty sure he read those messages. We also had a suspicion that he had installed spyware on her phone but were never able to prove it. At this point I also reached out to my dad for help and his response was basically “I don’t care, not my problem, focus on school”. I reached out to my granny who absolutely cared, but her response was “I’m sorry but I can’t afford to support her, I have to focus on taking care of you, if she won’t stop this you’ll have to stop being friends with her”.

I went home to New York for winter break, suffered through my first round of Xanax withdrawal and was truly trying to get better but my ex manipulated his was back in my life and got me addicted again....but now this bottle of 90 had run out. I went back to my college town, got scripted, and was copping street bars when my script inevitably ran out early. What comes next is blurry for obvious reasons. We moved to the town in Florida my granny lived in and got an apartment together. The female friends she made in our town (my current home) she got most of them into sugaring and using SeekingArrangement. Things deteriorated super fast at this point. I was struggling hard, failing my online classes, and eventually got completely financially cut off by my parents. My granny was paying my half of the rent and my puppy’s vet bills but I was too embarrassed to admit I couldn’t afford groceries. Kiara was pressuring me hard to go on SeekingArrangement but I still refused. I would sit on the floor of the bathroom in a towel after I showered and just cry because the steam made me nauseous and dizzy since I wasn’t eating.

I met my current boyfriend and something just started to click: I didn’t wanna live like this anymore. The mom of a friend from this town who also refuses to sugar landed me an interview at the gym I currently work at, I fought for the job, and I got it. Now I knew I didn’t wanna be completely fucked up all the time anymore but I was still doing enough Xanax to keep me out of withdrawal. The 2mg that had blacked me out at the beginning were now just barely enough to keep me functional. Kiara and I were fighting frequently and bad by this time. She and her partner in sugaring, Mena (not her real name but pretty close to it, fuck this bitch fr) were expecting me to keep how they made their money a secret....from friends and guys that I saw every single day. They both very obviously did not work and were flexing new cars, designer clothes, and cash all over their social media. Kiara thought she could cover her ass by saying she dealt drugs but it was also obvious that she wasn’t putting the time into that to come up with the amount of money she had. The only one dealing drugs was me, and not enough to do anything flashy, just enough that in addition to my work money I was usually getting enough to eat. But there were still some times when the previous weeks paycheck had run out and I was having my first meal of the day at 3pm after someone had bought adderall from me. We had our serious serious fight where she threw my stuff in the lawn and I lived with my current boyfriend full time for about a couple weeks since my bedroom at my granny’s was getting refloored when this happened.

By January 20th he was concerned by my Xanax problem and wanted me to seriously try to stop. At the time I started tapering because I wanted the girlfriend title but I’m forever grateful for him giving me a reason, even if it was a shallow one, because I just needed to START. We tried to reconcile once, despite boyfriend and guy best friend begging me not to, and of course the same problems reappeared, we had another serious fight and haven’t spoken since.

Now the fog is clearing and today I’m 96 days clean of xanax, 16 days clean of all benzos, and 19 days clean of gabapentin (what was keeping me from having a seizure while quitting benzos). But it’s hard because being out of the fog means feeling all of my emotions, even the really bad ones. This past week I’ve been waking up and crying sitting in front of my mirror trying to put my makeup on for work and it just drips right off and I have to start over. She was my best friend for 8 years. My favorite person. My partner in life. I loved her more than anyone.

My boyfriend and guy best friend are pretty uncomfortable when they hear someone express an opinion of me that’s “Kiara’s side of the story” and I don’t correct it. Both of them saw exactly how bad it got near the very end and don’t get why I don’t defend myself more or tell people about her letting my dog eat dab (THC) wax while she was supposed to be watching her and having to be rushed to the animal hospital TWO separate times. (She’s a Pomeranian and the highly concentrated THC was super dangerous to her tiny little body). Yelling at me and giving me the silent treatment because less than 48 hours after my SA she expected me to drive her to a hair appointment in Miami and I woke up late and didn’t get her there on time with traffic. Me begging her to be there for me when it felt like everything was falling apart and I self harmed for the first time and her leaving me to go on a vacation to Orlando with a girl we didn’t even really like. Me not wanting to sleep in the apartment alone after my SA and her not letting me sleep in her bed anymore, her and Mena just dumping me at the neighbor’s so they could continue to sugar, party, and see guys our age at night (this sounds super awful but neighbors roommate —> current boyfriend. He kept me safe until I felt better, was really sweet and careful, and I was the one to make the first move). There’s more but I really don’t like talking about it, after the abuse she went through and I assume is still going through, I expect her to be pretty damaged and not have it in her to treat people right all the time. Not exposing every bad thing she’s ever done to all our mutual friends and acquaintances is kind of my last gift to her.

I also admit that sugaring wasn’t responsible for everything that went wrong. Loving an addict is difficult and exhausting and I went through it myself with my ex. I was also out bi and she was “probably straight, maybe a little bi-curious” in her words. But when she was drunk or on Xanax she’d kiss me first...we had done more than kiss but only during 3somes with a guy. I don’t know, I think I loved her more than I was supposed to and some of the stuff she’d say made me think she saw me in a way she really didn’t. When we first moved to this town I had a thing with a girl and expected it to be no big deal but things here were different than up north. I got called the d slur for the first time by someone who wasn’t joking. It was like getting slapped I was so shocked and hurt, I truly didn’t think that happened anymore. I think she saw what happened to me and kinda closed off that part of herself because she didn’t wanna experience that herself. She stopped making out with me at bars and parties after that and it made me sad and maybe a little jealous. But I really do blame her SD for basically “breaking her”, for handing me that first bottle of free Xanax, for a lot of other little things that I can’t possibly include because this is already way too long. This is my first time even saying this much. Feel free to add your own experiences or thoughts on this or anything you’d like. [I’m prepared to get death threats or called a SWERF or whatever but I don’t care, now that I started talking about this I’m not going to stop.]

#terf safe #terfs please touch #terfs please interact #radfem #radical feminists please touch #radical feminst #radical feminism #terf #swerfs please interact #swerf #anti prostitution #addiction #recovery #terfs do touch #sugardadddy

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hushedhands · 3 years

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Challenge 83

@cecilia02 @everbeenminee Astra watching Andrew's coronation.

Astra Orders set an alarm for three o’clock in the morning, but she didn't need it. She didn't sleep at all.

Her mom had invited her to watch the once-in-a-generation event with her little cousins in Illéa Palace, but Astra had refused. Kile had offered to stay the night and keep her company, but that hadn't felt right either. Her dad had suggested not watching at all, which was cute but not really a solution. It would be weeks before footage of this faded from the news, and even then there would be anniversary specials forever. Astra might as well bite the bullet and watch the coronation that had almost been hers.

She wished her parents and her boyfriend weren’t making such a fuss about this. History was full of women who'd almost married princes and then gone home to watch them become kings. Her Uncle Maxon had left dozens of such women in his wake when he’d chosen to marry Aunt Ames, though Astra didn't have the telephone numbers of any of them. She wished Andrew had enough ex-girlfriends to make a proper club like the former Selected. It might have been nice to have someone who could understand this indescribable feeling without the need for words to name it.

It wasn't that she wanted to be married to Andy. She had no doubt at all that she'd made the right decision in calling off their relationship, and that was totally separate from the fact that she was now wildly in love with Kile.

But there was something aching in her chest as she watched the aerial shots of the city of London on the little television in her apartment in Angeles, curled up in her warmest fuzzy pajamas, hair in a messy version of her ballet bun, hands clinging to her mug of tea for dear life. Today was the day that standing by Andrew's side for his coronation went from something she wouldn’t do to something she couldn't do. She'd chosen to walk away, but this was the day that the door locked behind her.

Never was a hard word to give to Andrew, even if Kile had her Always.

The camera above the crowd panned past the palace Astra had stayed in that summer, and her chest squeezed hard. Whatever else had happened there, it had been a refuge for her at a time in her life when she’d needed it most.

It all started when she had been offered an incredible opportunity to dance for the Waverly ballet company in the summer, and an opportunity to attend an elite seminar with London’s royal ballet company in the spring, and Kile, realizing that he and Astra wouldn’t see each other for over six months, had broken up with her very suddenly.

Well, technically it had been a mutual decision. She hadn’t seen him much during his first year at school, and now she was off on her own adventures, and it seemed like a terrible time to try to make a relationship work. What if he met someone amazing at university? What if she met someone in Waverly or London? Was it fair to deny themselves new relationships and experiences just because they’d always been together? Weren’t they technically together by default, anyway?

It was a reasonable question. If you married someone you’d had playdates with for as long as you could remember, and you never even tried to date someone else, it was probably a relationship by default… right?

As she got on the plane for London, it had hit her hard that she wouldn’t have a hope of seeing Kile again, maybe for an entire year. The earliest she’d be back in Angeles was the next fall, and that’s exactly when he’d be leaving to go back to school again. And this time they wouldn’t talk to each other on the telephone almost every single day, and she wouldn’t slip secret notes in the care packages his parents sent him from home, and he wouldn’t surprise her by sitting in the audience during a matinee performance after sneaking back into town without telling her...

And maybe he never would again.

It was possible she’d cried the whole flight overseas, it was hard to remember. She must have rehydrated somehow, or she’d have shriveled up and died of the heartbreak. That time was all a blur now.

But what Astra remembered clearly, sitting on her sofa four years later, was the way she’d felt walking into that little old palace on the north side of the city and realizing that it was essentially hers for the season. It really paid to have a paranoid king for an uncle sometimes, because Maxon had pulled a dozen favors with the English royal family to get Astra somewhere safe and comfortable to live for a few months. She was technically an Illéan princess by title, so he wouldn’t hear of letting her rent a crumby apartment somewhere in the city, and besides, wherever she stayed needed to have enough room for a security detail. Still, even for a small palace, it was a palace and it was hers.

The old place had plenty of full-time staff that kept it in good shape as an estate of historical significance to the English monarchy, but Astra herself didn’t have maids or butlers, or a chef to keep her fed. At night, everyone who worked to keep the palace maintained went home, so it was only her and the security detail.

But she was allowed to order takeout from restaurants around town, so on her very first night alone she ordered enough food to live off of for a while, until she could get to a grocery store. She sprawled on a sofa in the downstairs sitting room, doodling in the notebook her Aunt May had given her for her last birthday, until there was a surprise knock on the archway in the entrance of the sitting room.

“Hello.” Andrew stood there, still in his business suit from the day, though with no tie, and with the top button undone. He looked ruffled, and in his hands he carried a large bottle of red wine. “Sorry to barge in… there isn’t exactly a doorbell in this place, and without staff to handle arrivals and departures… well, I did knock.” he awkwardly concluded.

Astra, still in her tank top and stretchy pants from the plane, would have felt severely underdressed to received a prince at a palace, except this was one of her oldest and best friends, and some of the ache in her heart from leaving Kile on the other side of the world eased away just from looking at him. She hugged him, “You don’t need to knock. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” he hugged her back. “Ah, and here. A housewarming gift.” he offered her the wine.

“You’re just in time for dinner.”

“Am I?”

“It should be here soon. The finest spicy noodles and sautéed vegetables in the land. Although, if there’s no doorbell…”

“The guard at the gate will take it from the delivery driver and have someone bring it in.” he grinned.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go hunt down something to open that bottle.” she said.

A new city, a change of scenery, some delicious New Asian food, a bottle of old wine, a dear old friend… this was the recipe to get over a breakup. Astra knew it, because she already felt worlds better, just struggling to find a way into the wine bottle. There wasn’t a corkscrew in the kitchens that they could find, and this palace didn’t have its own wine cellar, which was the only other place they could think to find wine accessories. In the end, Andrew took an impressive, ancient sword off of a display rack on a wall at the top of the grand staircase and carefully poked the sharp end down until it was lodged into the cork.

Astra laughed so hard her sides hurt as she twisted the bottle out in front of her and Andrew slowly stepped backward. After a couple of tries, the cork loosened up enough that he could use brute force to pull the rest of it out.

When the food arrived, they carried it up to the top floor, to a balcony that overlooked the city, and they had a picnic of sorts.

“Where’s Lucas? You two are usually a package set.” Astra asked between bites of spicy noodles.

“Still finishing up his first year at university.”

“Oh, of course! Kile— “ She stopped abruptly, her chest squeezed tightly, her tongue fell heavy in her mouth, and she drowned the bitter taste of his name on her lips with expensive wine.

“Oh dear. That won’t do.” Andrew leant over and brushed away an errant tear from her cheek. “You mean to tell me… well, he’s safe isn’t he? He’s not unwell?”

“No, no he’s fine. He’s at school… and I’m here.”

Andrew studied her face carefully. He’d met Kile and Astra on the same day, at the same moment, so they’d been friends for exactly the same amount of time. He knew that they’d been together romantically for almost seven years now, the teenage equivalent of a sixty-year marriage. “So you’re… taking time apart?”

“We’ve decided to go our separate ways.” Astra said, the words soft and wispy in her throat. “We’re not… we’re not headed in the same direction anymore. We might never head in the same direction again. After university, he wants to see the world. And I… I might travel around for a while as a dancer, but I can’t imagine not being there for Addy once she becomes Queen… Even if that wasn’t true, we won’t have a good chance to be in the same city for at least a year… and a lot can happen in a year.”

Andrew took a large sip from his glass and then refilled hers.

“That’s really difficult, Astra… I’m so sorry. I know how much you love each other. It must be hell, knowing that you’re growing apart from the person you’re closest to in the world.”

Astra choked a sob in her wineglass and Andrew’s eyes widened, “God, I’m sorry! What a terrible thing to say—“ he sat both of their glasses safely aside and wrapped her in a warm hug.

Astra got his suit all wet from her tears, but she felt comfortable in his arms. “I’m not crying because of you, stupid.” She explained when she had the breath to do so. “It’s definitely because of him. I just… I didn’t think anyone would understand. But you do.”

“I don’t.” Andy rushed to correct her. “Not really. I’ve never experienced anything like that. The closest I can imagine is if… if I lost touch with someone in the Palace kid gang. You’re my best friends, apart from Luke, and I’ve known you forever. If I had to say goodbye to one of you, to lose you forever… it’s not even close to what you’re feeling, but just the thought hurts enough for me to know that you’re going through hell.”

Astra sniffled and collected her wineglass again, ready for more sips, content to allow herself to be comforted by her friend. “Hell has better wine than I expected, I’ll give it that much.”

“Not a bad view, either.” Andrew agreed with a small chuckle, looking out at the city.

“Didn’t expect one of my very best friends to come with me to hell.” Astra timidly admitted.

“And I’m not leaving until I get you out of it.” he’d promised.

Andrew always did have words as sweet as honey.

They drank the whole bottle that night, between the two of them. They had as good an excuse as two teenagers needed: they couldn’t find a wine stopper. Andrew offered to stay the night with her so that she wouldn’t be alone, but now that the world was blurry and warm from the wine, Astra felt delightfully sleepy. She was going to get her first good night’s sleep since losing Kile. So Andrew left, promising to bring breakfast the next morning to check on her.

He checked on her a lot.

He brought her breakfast and dinner every day, and he’d probably have brought her lunch too, except that she was always at her dance seminar during the daytime. Astra ended every night with her body pleasantly tired from dancing, a new half a bottle of wine in her stomach, and her mind full of whatever nice, easy conversation she’d had with Andrew just before bed. Her first week in England flew by.

That Friday night, Andrew appeared in the doorway to the sitting room right on schedule, two bottles of wine in hand.

“You’re mad.” Astra giggled.

“It’s the weekend.” he argued. “You don’t have to dance tomorrow, and I don’t have any public appearances to make until next Tuesday.”

“You’re off work until Tuesday? You English royals really know how to take it easy.” she laughed. She didn’t think her cousins had taken a three day weekend in their lives.

“We’ll keep the second bottle on standby, just in case we decide we want to try it.”

But of course, they were young and it was a Friday night, they definitely wanted to try it. Somewhere after the first glass of the second bottle, refilling glasses got too risky and they started drinking straight from the bottle, passing it back and forth. There was a television show on, showing a concert happening on the other side of the city in a stadium Astra could just see if she stood tall enough on the balcony.

Andrew watched her going almost en pointe to try to spy the stadium, mesmerized by her strength and balance and grace. “Can we dance?”

Astra smiled brightly. Dancing was her favorite in the world, of course they could dance! They danced in their socks to the music on the television until Andrew collapsed, out of breath, on the sofa. Astra joined him, blood pumping pleasantly fast through her veins.

“I’m out of shape!” he bemoaned.

“I’m a professional athlete, don’t compare yourself to me. You did just fine.”

“I did? Do you think I could join the ballet?” He laughed giddily.

She’d never seen him giddy like this.

Andy carried the weight of his country on his shoulders, he always had. Addy hadn’t really started bearing Illéa on her back until she was eleven or twelve, old enough to understand what was coming for her, but Andrew had always been a future king, even when he was tiny. Seeing him now, not a care in the world, laughing about joining the ballet… Astra’s heart twisted in her chest and for the first time since breaking up with Kile, it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

He had no part of this.

Astra leant forward and kissed Andrew on the warm, red cheek.

He looked at her, stunned, smile falling off his face. “What was that for?”

“I don’t know… just because. Just for you.”

“Just for me…” he’d mused.

“For being good to me. For taking care of me while I’m here. For… for being you. Yeah… just for you.” Astra nodded, this time more certain that the words made sense outside of her wine-fogged mind.

“I should be me more often.” he chuckled.

Astra blinked.

Should he?

***

There was a version of Astra’s stay in London where she pined away for her ex-boyfriend every moment she got, and maybe poured that pain into her dancing because it was overflowing from her heart and needed somewhere to go. That’s what she’d been expecting deep down. But what really happened was, she found a favorite market to buy groceries from, she found a bakery between her palace and the dance studio that kept her in much-needed carbs, she found a park with a pond where lots of locals liked to walk their dogs, which meant she got to pet a lot of dogs, and she started falling in love with the city.

And then there was Andrew.

He knew her so well, and they’d loved each other as friends for so long, and spending those mornings and nights with him felt so easy, so smooth.

And he was handsome and kind and… ugh, handsome. Astra didn’t regret kissing him on the cheek. Not even when he stood with her on the balcony a week later, watching the sunset, and she laced her hand with his.

“Are you quite alright?” he’d asked, not because she’d grabbed his hand, but just because he was still so worried about her.

“When I got here, I thought the answer to that question would be no forever.” Astra confessed. “And listen… I don’t really know who I am without Kile, he’s been a part of me for my whole life… but these past two weeks I’ve started to find out… and I like it. I like getting to know me.”

Andrew smiled down at her and squeezed her hand.

“And I like you too, Andrew.”

His smile became pained, “Astra—“

“It’s okay. You’re the next king and blah blah blah.” he laughed, because there were so few people in the world who could blah blah blah being an heir to a throne, but Astra was certainly one of them.

“It isn’t that.” he corrected her with a shake of his head. “It’s… you’re getting out of a serious relationship. You can’t like anyone yet—“

“Yes I can.” Astra scoffed, a challenging glint in her eyes, “Watch me.”

“But we’ve been friends our whole lives, too. Wouldn’t you like to like someone different? A stranger, maybe?”

“Where would I find one of those?” Astra lamented, only half-joking. Having a king for an uncle really limited one’s opportunities to meet strangers.

Andrew peered at her closely, then seemingly made up his mind all at once, saying, “Put on a dress.”

“What?”

“Put on a dress, I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Just like that, Andrew was downstairs talking to his security team and Astra was upstairs trying to figure out what dress to wear. There was a sweet springtime yellow thing… and then there was the red thing.

Astra made up her mind quickly. She chose the red thing. She chose everything that the red thing implied.

She appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Andrew’s eyes widened.

“Is this alright? I have other dresses—“

“S’perfect—“ he muttered and then cleared his throat, “Ahem, that is perfect Astra. Let us be off.”

He formally offered her his arm and she accepted with a proud smirk at the flush in his cheeks, then they ducked into his car and his driver whisked them off across town.

“What are we doing?” Astra asked after they took a turn to a part of town she’d never been to before.

“Did I not say it is a surprise?”

“Yes, but—“

“We’ve got guards, and I’ve gone to this place before. There’s no need to worry.”

“Andrew—“

“It’s where I go when I need to meet strangers.”

Astra blinked, dumbfounded.“You? Meet strangers?”

“How else am I supposed to find a queen? ” he muttered mutinously.

Astra stared over at him for a long moment, never having given it a second thought. Addy would be free to date whomever she chose, but if all else failed she could always have a Selection to find her husband. Andrew had nothing like that to choose from.

Astra was surprised when the car pulled to a stop at the backdoor to a nightclub. Could princes of England really go clubbing? But this place looked like it had tight security, and there were signs posted prominently that there were no cameras allowed on the premises. Andrew’s and Astra’s bodyguards stayed close by as they entered the club and Astra’s ears were assaulted by music so loud she could no longer hear it. All she could hear was the beat.

Andrew took her to the bar and bought her whatever drink she wanted, and then leant in close to her ear so that she could hear him say, “What do you think?”

“It’s a little loud!”

He chuckled, “About the strangers.”

“Oh!” Astra looked around as she spun the little umbrella from her pink drink between her fingers. There were all kinds of men here. Some older than her, some younger, some looked athletic and some looked bookish, and they were all having fun, losing themselves to the same beat. “What do you think?!” she yelled at him.

He looked around at the women in the room, sizing them up, and then shrugged, “Hard to say.”

“How do we meet them?!” Astra was yelling, while somehow he was able to keep his voice low and still be heard when he leaned close to her ear.

“Honestly? They usually just come up to me…” he confessed.

Astra rolled her eyes. Royals.

Sure enough, several women came up to Andrew and threw themselves at him while he and Astra waited for even one man to make a pass at her.

“Maybe you’re intimidating them away!” Astra suggested.

“Maybe so. Do you want me to go dance?”

Did she want him to go dance with one of the strange women in the club so that a strange man might come up to her and hit on her?

Not really, no. She wanted to dance with him. She liked dancing with him. More than that, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. And she didn’t want him to dance with anyone else. She took his hand and dragged him out to the dance floor, their bodyguards hilariously close by, and they started moving.

It wasn’t dancing the way Astra was trained to think of it. There was no choreography, no gentle swell of melody to carry her movements, this was something far more basic than that. The best part was how quickly she was able to stop thinking about anything but her own breath, the sweat on her brow, and the man in front of her.

There was nothing else in the world. For as long as they could stay with the beat, there was only the beat. Endorphins that she associated with a long hard workout flooded her body, and Astra felt good. And beyond feeling good, she did not feel sad. She did not miss anybody. Not her family on the other side of the world, and not Kile. She was complete right here. All she had to do was make this last forever.

“I am not a professional dancer.” Andrew reminded her, breath coming far too fast to get that whole sentence out without gasping for air several times in the middle.

Astra giggled at him, then hugged him close, “This place is magical!” she yelled in his ear.

“Magical?”

And just to prove the point, and to express her gratitude, she pecked his lips with a kiss.

That was it, right? A kiss of gratitude?

As first kisses went, it was silly. They were both too out of breath to do more than mash their lips together for a second and then go back to gasping for air. Andrew led them away for water and after a few minutes to recover, he was ready to try again.

Astra helped him find a way to move to every other beat instead of every beat, essentially cutting the speed of his dancing in half for him. That helped tremendously. But to help him do this, she had to wrap her arms around his neck to guide him, and once he had the beat it was all much less frantic and much more sensual. This time when they kissed, it was not a silly peck on the lips.

Astra had only ever kissed Kile before, but since that was never happening again, she didn’t allow herself to think about that. She didn’t think about how Andrew was taller than Kile, and his cheeks were softer because he shaved every single morning without fail. She didn’t think about anything except how nice it was not to feel pain. When she was with Andrew, especially when she was kissing Andrew, she felt nothing but joy.

Was she using him to feel better?

If someone made you feel better and wanted to be around you, was that even using them?

They stayed at the club until Andrew was too tired to go on (and even Astra was ready to admit she was tired), and then they climbed back into Andrew’s car and rode off into the night.

Astra’s ears were ringing with the sudden silence, and they were both flushed and dripping with sweat. Astra was ready to bet her face matched the red of her dress and her hair, and was ready to feel embarrassed about that somewhere beneath her exhaustion, when Andrew slid his hand over to hers and squeezed.

She looked over at him and smiled.

It was past 2 in the morning when they got back to Astra’s palace, and Astra couldn’t believe they’d spent so many hours getting swept away like that.

“I’d do that every night if I thought my hearing could survive it.” Astra admitted as they struggled to get up the stairs, feeling distinctly like they had overcooked pasta for legs.

Astra took an ice-cold bath and then rolled her legs out to try to avert any soreness the next morning, and then she found Andrew in one of the guest bedrooms. “Thanks for the dancing… sorry we didn’t meet any strangers.” she grinned.

“I’m not.” he admitted, with complete candor.

“Well then, no future queen for you and no non-childhood friend to date for me.”

“Perhaps you could find a childhood enemy?” he suggested, and she laughed at the dryness of voice as he made the joke.

“Yes, I’ll have to make do.” she agreed.

***

The kisses felt stolen for the first week, like they were getting away with something they weren’t supposed to, but then one day Andrew showed up with Astra’s favorite breakfast, and two paper travel cups of tea, and he pecked her on the lips in greeting and it didn’t feel stolen at all. It felt as comfortable as an old sweater, and made her feel just as warm inside.

To celebrate the end of her first month in London, Astra ordered dinner for them from the same restaurant they’d eaten at on her very first night in town. He showed up looking frazzled after a long day of talking with members of parliament, but all the more pleased to see her because that stress was over now. And, of course, he brought her the same kind of wine they’d shared that first night.

Astra had bought a corkscrew weeks ago now, so they didn’t need to resort to using ancient swords to open their alcohol, which made it slightly less interesting. Astra curled up against him on the balcony overlooking the city and kissed him every chance she got.

“You’re certainly in a mood.” he noted with a smile down at her, after their fourth surprise kiss.

“I’m just glad to be here.”

“Are you?” he seemed surprised. She didn’t blame him. It was quite a turn from her first weepy night a month ago.

“Yes. I think London’s been good for me.”

And maybe she meant the city, with her new favorite local spots and the friends she was making at the seminar, but maybe she meant Andrew. Maybe she couldn’t really tell the difference, and it was all just good for her.

“I am very glad to hear that.”

“I wish I didn’t have to go to Waverly in two months.” Astra admitted. “It’s an amazing opportunity for my career, not to mention I’ll get to visit my grandparents in Carolina all the time, but… I like London.”

This time she was blatantly talking about him.

“Well… London’s not going anywhere anytime soon, I suppose.” he pointed out, fully onto her game.

She hmm-ed into her wineglass, “I suppose not.”

“And you’re always welcome in London, you know.”

Astra giggled and shook her head, surprising him with another kiss as a reward for playing along with her silly euphemism.

Later that night, when the food was stashed away in the kitchen and the wine was mostly empty, Andrew joined Astra again on the balcony as she stood there with the springtime breeze blowing through her loose, curly hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“I meant it, you know.” he said. “You could stay as long as you like. There’s a tremendous ballet company in London, perhaps you’ve heard of it.”

Astra laughed, pressing a hand to his over her stomach and turning to look up at him. “Maybe someday.”

“You’re dead-set on going to Waverly, then?”

“Well, I’ve signed a contract.” she explained.

“Ah. They shall imprison you if you break it. I understand.”

His voice was always so serious when he joked, never giving away the game. She laughed at the thought and said, “Yes, there’s a special prison for ballet dancers who break their contracts, it’s especially brutal. I hear they make you dance to jazz all day.”

This time his lips brushed the placed where her shoulders met her neck, and her breath hitched at the sensation. “I shan’t extradite you.” he concluded, his warm lips brushing her skin. “I shall keep you here, safe and sound, far away from the ballet constables.”

Astra laced her fingers with his over her stomach and said, “They’re relentless, the ballet constables. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

His lips trailed up her neck and stopped at her ear where he said softly, “I think I can manage.”

Astra’s entire body erupted in chills, and suddenly she didn’t want to continue their elaborate, jokey banter about the consequences of her actions. She turned in his arms and pressed her lips roughly to his, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that all she really wanted was to lose herself in the taste and the feel and the smell of him. Andrew was the only person in the world who made her not care about the future, and when his lips were on her skin that was doubly true.

It wasn’t exactly real happiness she felt when she was lying in bed with him, his sandy brown hair all ruffled, his arm slung across her like he was afraid she’d disappear in the night. True, meaningful, lasting happiness was something that required a lot of factors: feeling good about the present and hopeful about the future, and at peace with the past. Astra wasn’t at peace with her past, and she didn’t even want to think about the future, but the present… the present was so good. It was one out of three. One out of three wasn’t bad.

***

If Andrew’s parents noticed that he was essentially living with Astra that spring, they didn’t say anything about it. Maybe they just assumed that, since they were close friends, he was keeping her company and enjoying a nice, extended visit. And that was perfectly true, except that they were sharing a bed and occasionally a shower, and they shared a cup of coffee in the morning and a bottle of wine at night.

They didn’t go back to that club, but they found other ways to go out together without being photographed. There were secret tables in the kitchens of restaurants, special royal boxes in theaters, private trains to private estates, and one time there was a royal yacht. Astra was surprised that Andy had so much freedom, as the heir to the throne. Addy couldn’t have dreamed of roaming around Illéa the way that Andrew was gallivanting across his future kingdom. Sure, part of it was Andrew making sure Astra was having the time of her life— he probably didn’t usually venture away from home so much— but even so.

“Will you be able to keep this up once you’re king?” she’d asked him as they sat curled up together on a train ride returning from the south. “All this rambling.” she explained at his questioning look.

“Ah. No, there will certainly be less. But my job will be nothing nearly so intense as King Maxon’s, if that is what you’re thinking. For one thing, I’ve got parliament.”

Astra wasn't exactly sure how England’s parliament worked. She knew King Eoan set the legislative agenda, but he couldn’t pass any kind of law on his own. “I can’t believe they let you have a whole train to yourself, and you barely have to work.” she teased.

His arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and his thumb began tracing her upper arm as he said, “If you think my future job’s a scandal, you should see what our queen has to do. Host parties, go shopping, appear at events…” his voice sounded as if it was a strain to remain light and carefree. As if his words were more important than he wanted them to be.

Astra leaned her head on his shoulder. Those were all things she already did for Illéa. Well, she didn’t host many parties, but she sometimes helped her Aunt Ames out when things were especially overwhelming. It was strange to think that she had experience doing the same job as the Queen of England.

“All that, and she gets to retire young?”

“Assuming that whole heir business is sorted out sufficiently early.” he admitted.

“Oh, that.” Astra giggled.

“On the whole, it’s not a terrible job.” he said.

“No, not when you factor in the jewelry.” Astra agreed, still joking.

“Precisely.” Andrew nodded with a small smile against the top of her head.

Astra wasn’t sure why he didn’t return her joke with one of his own.

***

Though Astra very much enjoyed being swept off her feet by the prince, it was the quiet nights at the palace that meant the most to her. Sometimes, after dinner and a long, hot bath, her joints would feel well enough to practice some choreography in one of the drawing rooms. Andrew would play the piano for her, putting years of lessons to use for the first time. Sometimes her joints would not feel well enough for more dancing after a long day at the seminar, and he’d rub her battered feet and ankles until she melted into a puddle at the other end of the sofa or bed, or wherever they happened to be.

She’d ask him about his work, but he wouldn’t tell her much. Maybe he was worried about protecting state secrets, or maybe he didn’t want to worry her. Maybe he didn’t want her to see him in less than a good mood, because he was only there to make her happy. And how could she not be happy?

One night, in the middle of her second month in England, as she laid awake in their bed and brushed her fingers through his unruly hair (a sight so few had ever seen: the Heir to England with unruly hair), she pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and said softly, “What are we going to do when I have to leave for Waverly?”

Sleepily, he’d pried his eyes open, his eyelashes fluttering against her skin. “What would you like to do?”

“Freeze this moment in amber. Live in it forever.”

“Be young, in love, and carefree forever?” he’d smirked.

“In love?” she’d hesitated, surprised. They’d only been attached at the lips for six weeks now, as impossible as it seemed. Hadn’t they enjoyed half a lifetime together already?

“Oh dear.” He’d lifted his head up so that he could look in her eyes, “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Astra shook her head, “It’s okay. I do love you Andrew.”

“Do you?” he sounded amazed.

And she did. She’d always loved him, just as he’d always loved her. They’d grown up together, perfect friends, how could she not love him?

“I’m sorry you didn’t know that already.” she let her hand fall from his hair down his spine, coming to rest on his bare lower back. She traced the shape of a heart there with her finger and he shuddered. “You’re one of the best friends I’ll ever have, and I love you.”

He smiled and returned his cheek to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. “Yes. This moment would do just fine.”

“We could freeze this moment and allow archaeologists to discover it in a few thousand years.”

“And if we don’t like the future, we could simply freeze this moment again.” he agreed.

“You don’t think you’d be bored after a few thousand years?”

He grinned, one hand tracing her ribcage lazily, “I could find a few ways to keep myself occupied.”

***

Astra didn’t notice the first time there was a photographer waiting outside of the dance studio after her rehearsals. And then, a couple of days later, when a rumor sourced to a local food delivery driver was printed in a Sunday paper saying that he delivered Prince Andrew’s favorite kind of curry to the Palace where Astra was staying a couple of times per week. She didn’t mind when Andrew suggested they stop sneaking out to exclusive clubs or restaurants around the city, because staying in was extremely entertaining.

But it was hard to miss when Andrew nervously appeared in her doorway one evening and said, instead of ‘hello’ or ‘how was your day’, “Grandmother has asked to meet you.”

Astra gaped. Queen Cerridwen, King Eoan’s mother, had never met any of the Illéan royals in-person. Maybe she’d met Uncle Maxon back before he was King, when she was still the active queen, but maybe not even then. “Me? Wh…why?”

Andrew ran a hand through his hair and ruffled it in a way that would have been funny if he hadn’t look so stressed. He sank to his knees to sit next to Astra, who’d been sitting on the floor, using the coffee table to hold her nail polish bottles as she painted her toes. “The rumors got to her.”

“Rumors… about us?”

Andrew nodded, “I’ve had the press department squashing everything the second they hear about it, and it’s bought us some time, but the rumors have been consistent for long enough now—“

“The rumors that we’re spending time together?” Astra asked.

“Yes.” Andrew looked faintly nauseous.

Astra smiled and traced his cheekbone with her thumb soothingly, “We are spending time together. We’re not being falsely accused.”

“No, I know… I think, just… I think we need to talk.”

Those were heavy words.

Kile had been the last one to say those words to her, and the outcome had been really unpleasant.

“You didn’t bring wine?” Astra noticed for the first time.

“I wanted us to keep our heads clear.”

“Are you ending this?” Astra asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“No.” Andrew promised. “But we’ve never talked about what this is before. I’ve been able to buy us a little slice of time to ourselves, but I’ve reached the end of my tricks.”

Astra looked into his eyes carefully, noticing the strain there for the first time, “You never said you had to use tricks…”

“I didn’t want you to have to worry about it. I wanted to be… uncomplicated. Simple. After everything you’ve been through, I thought that you needed simplicity.”

“I did.” she admitted, chest suddenly aching at the thought that the simple times might be gone.

He brushed an errant curl behind her ear and smiled bracingly, “I am not here to tell you that the world is ending. Merely that people have found us out. They’re asking questions that I do not have the answers to, and in lieu of my answers, they are coming to their own conclusions. Grandmother amongst the rest.”

“She wants to meet me because she knows we’ve been dating?”

Andrew huffed a breath, “It’s her way of forcing the matter at hand. When it comes to me, to dating the English Heir, there is dating and there is Dating. Courting. Something official, not just between you and I, but between us and all of England.”

Astra looked a little creeped out at the thought, “They… want in on our dates?”

Andrew rubbed his brow, “In a manner of speaking… there comes a point when I’m meant to introduce anyone I am seeing to the people of England as a potential future queen.”

“Why? It’s not like they get to vote on who stays in your bed, or in our case, my bed.”

“No, but it’s…” he seemed so uncomfortable at having to explain this to her. Probably any English girl he dated would have seen this coming a mile away and known what to expect. Astra blushed a little, feeling inadequate for the first time all spring. “It’s a bit like a small Selection, perhaps. They get to know the person their prince is dating and they get to watch me court their future queen.”

“Oh, and your gramma wants you to do that with me?” What a relief to know she was just a confused old woman who’d misunderstood.

“Precisely. Meeting Grandmother at her estate in Scotland would signal the official start to our official courtship.”

Astra felt all the tension leave her body and she smirked at him, “Your gramma is proposing marriage to me on your behalf.”

“Basically.”

“What’s she in such a hurry for? We’re teenagers.”

Andrew let out an exasperated sigh, relieved now that he could see Astra wasn’t panicking and throwing everything she owned into a bag to haul back to Illéa on the first flight out the next morning. “I don’t know. You’re a good match, obviously. My father is close with your uncle, but it would be smart to solidify that alliance with some kind of marriage.”

“Very sexy and romantic.” Astra giggled.

“Isn’t it just?” he agreed wryly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath, “I suppose she’s worried because I’ll be king in a few more years. She doesn’t want me to have to go through that enormous transition of responsibility by myself. I suppose finding a queen would be much harder as king than as prince, too. Father’s even asked me if I want to take a few months next year and devote myself to dating full time before he begins handing off responsibilities to me in earnest. As part of a formal ascension plan.”

“What a conversation.”

“You can’t begin to imagine.”

Astra collapsed into giggles, doing her best to imagine it anyway. King Eoan asking his son if he wanted to be a full-time, 40-hours-per-week dater as part of his obligations to the crown.

“It’s good you think this is funny.” he sulked, but he only partially meant it. He was genuinely glad she was laughing instead of crying.

Fairly certain her toes were dry now, Astra stood and screwed the caps on her polish, stashing the bottles in a drawer next to her vanity. She stretched, fingers reached for the ceiling, going up on her toes, and as she came down she whisked her loose t-shirt over her head.

“Astra.” Andrew cleared his throat, forcing his eyes away from her lacy, pale blue and white bra, “Clear heads, remember?”

“I’m just getting comfortable.” she said in a voice that clearly told him she was not just getting comfortable.

He stood and she came over and loosened his tie for him. He placed a hand over hers when she made for his shirt’s buttons and said, “Do you want this to last past April?”

Astra gulped, “I wish April was forever.”

He stared at her, the only flicker of doubt coming from the small twitch of his eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“… I know.”

“You don’t have to answer me tonight, but we should talk about it. If we keep going past April, I suspect it will make the most sense for you… for you to meet grandmother.”

This time, when Astra continued with his buttons, it was a genuine effort to help him get comfortable, and not a ploy to see his bare chest. Seeing his bare chest was an undeniable bonus, though. She linked her fingers with his and dragged him towards her bed, and then she flopped down on her back and stared up at the top of her four poster canopy. “So what would happen after I met your grandmother?”

“You’d get some secret service protection.” Andrew laid on his stomach and used his finger to draw doodles on the smooth, soft skin above her navel. His breath felt warm as it puffed against her ribs, but her skin erupted in goosebumps anyway, and he pressed a chaste kiss to them. He knew the effect he had on her, and it only made him want to cherish her more.

“I’d go back to Illéa, though. To Waverly.”

“Yes. We’d coordinate that. It would probably be a less hectic place for you than in England.”

“You think England will be hectic if you announce we’re officially dating?”

Andrew huffed one dry, humorless laugh. “When they find out I’m thinking of making you their princess… sweetheart, it’s going to be a nightmare of a circus.”

“Terrifying clowns?”

“The most terrifying.” he agreed.

Astra sighed, “Then what? How long would we get to date before they’d expect you to decide whether you want to marry me or not?”

“Given the time you’d be spending in Illéa, we could get a year.”

“A year.” Astra liked the sound of that. Sure, she’d dance until her contract was up in Waverly, but then she’d come back and get to do this with Andrew for months and months. His dad might even let him date her full-time. Morning, noon, and night cuddles.

“Yes, and then…”

“And then a fairytale proposal. Would it have to be public?”

“Gosh, no.” Andrew promised. “But it would need to have a good story behind it. Take you somewhere meaningful—“

“Like the club where we first kissed.” Astra teased, running her hands through his hair.

“No, not at all.” he chuckled.

“And would I get to wear one of the crown jewels or something?”

Andrew lifted his head to look at her. “Would you want one?”

Astra laughed. It was all so completely silly. She was an eighteen year old girl! A boy was offering her a crown jewel! She laughed some more.

“Our engagement would be six months, eight at most.” he said. “That’s going to be the hardest time for you. You won’t be royal yet, but you’ll have all the expectations. Of course, you’d have everything you’d need from us. Security, education, an allowance for your clothes.”

“Mmm, clothes.”

“And then—“

“A royal wedding?”

“Yes.”

“And a royal honeymoon?”

“Of course.” he pressed another kiss to her skin, this one not so chaste.

“And then I’m your princess?”

“Until we take our oaths to become king and queen.”

“You really think I could be queen?”

“You think you couldn’t?”

“I know how hard it is on my Aunt Ames. It’s not really the life I saw for myself.”

“It’s different in England, you know. We’re smaller than most Illéan provinces, and we’ve got parliament.”

She couldn’t continue to fantasize about marrying him without understanding what he meant when he said that. “Andy, how does parliament help you?”

“Eh… help is not the word.” Andrew admitted. “It’s more that they take certain responsibilities off the monarch’s plate. Whether they do so in a manner that helps is an entirely different question. But unlike Queen America, who assists on many matters of policy and diplomacy, my mother’s job is almost entirely ceremonial, supporting my father’s efforts.”

“So do you think I could dance if we were married?”

Andrew fell quiet, wracking his brain for a way. “Not once we were engaged… I just can’t imagine that you would have time. And you’d quickly become one of the most famous women in the world… not that you’re anonymous now, just that we’re talking about a whole different stratosphere of public interest… even if we found time for you to dance in the royal ballet, it might not be safe.”

Astra hated that answer, but it made perfect sense to her. Addy had never regularly commuted into the city for any reason. Keeping her safe during recurring, publicly open performances would have been a nightmare, and Astra supposed that would be true for her too.

Astra also knew she wasn’t going to dance forever. She probably had a good ten or twelve years before retirement, and that was only if she avoided any major injuries. In Astra’s experience, injuries and pregnancies were two of the most common reasons dancers retired younger than thirty and they were both to be avoided.

“How long do you think we could put all of this off? I don’t want to stop dancing.”

“I know. I want you to dance! You’re bloody magnificent when you dance.”

“Just when I dance?” she teased suggestively.

“Other times too.” he smirked up at her. He let his face fall gently on her stomach, breathing in the smell of her body wash and then lifting his head again, “I could tell Grandmother we’re not yet ready. You could go to Waverly and come back for visits now and again.”

“Sounds like I’d miss you.”

“I’d miss you too.”

“Sounds better to me, though.”

“I suppose it must. The people mightn’t be fooled, they’ll still expect something is happening between us.”

“They’d be right.”

“But Astra… No matter what, I’ll be King four years from now. There’s no delaying that. ”

“That’s a long time, Andy.”

“I can’t… you must understand, I’d need to know for certain by then.”

“Of course!”

“Ideally… Ideally I would be married by then so that we could share the coronation ceremony.”

“So we could have a wedding earlier that fall? You’d propose that spring? That gives us a few years. That gives me time to dance.”

“But would it be enough?”

“Three years is forever, Andy.” Astra grinned down at him.

“And you’d really consider being my queen?”

“I’d consider a lot of things for blue eyes like yours.”

“They are an important part of the benefits package.” he agreed, placing an arm on either side of her and bringing himself up so that they were eye to eye. “Along with lots of travel to exotic locations. The finest champagne money can buy. Famous designers tripping over themselves to clothe you. A handful of palaces. Lots of diamonds.” he punctuated each of these offers with a deep, heated kiss and by the end Astra was absolutely dizzy and in no state to negotiate her future job benefits.

***

By the end of the week it was not just one photographer waiting outside of the ballet studio anymore, there were dozens. They were aggressive and pushy, yelling her name and constantly demanding she tell them if she was seeing Andrew. Her Illéan security detail was not pleased. The theater that housed the ballet was difficult to secure against so many persistent intruders, and there was serious discussion about whether they could even let her finish the seminar. They also discussed calling King Maxon and asking him for reinforcements, which made Astra’s stomach feel sick. She didn’t want her uncle to have to pay money and spare resources to send across the world to her all because of her love life.

It was a tense day and a half before Andrew was able to come through with security of his own to supplement her detail. It had been a tough thing to organize, given she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, but he’d found a way for her.

If Astra knew anything in those days, it was that he would always find a way for her. That had never been the problem.

There were reporters outside of Astra’s palace now, night and day, and they marked each time Andrew came or went. Instead of lounging together on the balcony overlooking the city, Astra and Andrew had to draw the curtains closed for the sake of their privacy.

“We should just tell them we’re not really dating.” Astra said. “I can’t outright lie to them.” Andrew insisted. “I can’t break trust with my people. I don’t have to confirm we’re together, but I can’t just tell them we’re not.”

“There’s got to be a way… tell them we have no intention of courting right now. That’s not a lie, is it?”

“It’s a bit transparent.” Andrew pointed out.

“Well, I’d love to hear your better idea!”

Andrew sighed into her hair. They were dancing to the music on the television, its glow the only light in her bedroom. “Maybe we break up. And I tell them we broke up.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Astra suddenly sounded so small and vulnerable, he squeezed her tighter, “No! Not really. Not in that way. It’s just a way we can… buy you some more time before we have to fess up to anything.”

Astra didn’t want to fake-break up with Andrew. She wanted the entire world to leave them to their peace and quiet in their little palace of domestic bliss forever. What was so complicated about that?

Andrew had the idea of staying away one night to try to relieve some of the heat, but all it did was leave Astra pacing the floor alone, listening to the rumble of dozens of people camped out on the street in front of her palace all night.

Astra and Andrew were summoned by Queen Waverly the next day and sat down together on the sofa in her office.

Everything about it was embarrassing. Andy’s mother needed to know how long they had been romantic, how far their romance had gone, how serious they were about their future together, and why Andrew had turned down his grandmother’s invitation.

“Lovey, she wasn’t trying to force your hand.” Waverly told Andrew sympathetically. “What’s happening now out there… it’s going to get worse, the longer we let the media spin itself up into a frenzy.”

Astra said, “I only have a week and a half left, your Majesty—“

“Astra.” Waverly reproached the use of her title. “We’re having this discussion as family. Call me Aunt Waverly… if you’re marrying my son, call me Mum.”

Astra gulped, looking at Andrew, lost.

“We’ve only been together a few months, we don’t know—“ Andrew spoke up, until Waverly nodded and held up her hand to silence him.

“I understand entirely.” She turned her head to the side to study a giant portrait of one of Andy’s female ancestors. “Listen you two, I know that this is a complicated situation. The only thing that will help is being forthright with the people.”

“If Astra meets grandmother, the people will be demanding a proposal by Christmas.”

“Perhaps so.”

“We’re not ready for that.” Andrew was keeping a lid on his princely composure, but Astra could tell he felt hopelessly trapped by his mother and the palace and his people beyond its walls. He was ready to rattle the cages.

Waverly nodded, “Your father and I will do everything we possibly can for you, you know that. We only want your happiness. But things are getting very intense, very fast out there. That’s happening because you’re choosing not to do things the conventional way. You must understand that.”

Very intense, very fast. That was Astra’s whole relationship with Andrew in a nutshell.

“It’s just a week and a half.” Astra reiterated. “Then I’ll be back in Illéa and the press can calm down for a while.”

“The speculation won’t stop until it is addressed by us, and it might even turn ugly.” Waverly warned. “When you stop giving them fresh photograph opportunities every day at your ballet house, when there aren’t rumors flying about sightings of the two of you all over London—“

“Not true, by the way.” Andrew said.

“Some of them could be.” Astra reminded him.

“Only the very old ones. We’ve not been out in a fortnight.”

Astra nodded.

“My point is, in a vacuum of real news, someone will invent rumors to splash on their tabloids. It will be anything and everything. Abuse, affairs, pregnancy out of wedlock, Astra will be a gold digger who broke Andy’s heart one week, the next week Andy will be a womanizing fiend who took advantage of a childhood friend. Relations between England and Illéa will be on the brink—“

“They won’t!” Astra objected.

“Only in the magazines.” Waverly replied. “But we wouldn't want any hostile nations thinking the rumors were true and attempting to take advantage of the supposed rift. You see how this could spiral?”

The room fell to silence for the first time. Astra shivered just a little, “I feel like I’ve been tossed into a tornado.”

“It gets better." Waverly promised. “Once you’re proactive about telling your own story, it gets harder for the media to frenzy over half-credible unattributed rumors.”

Astra buried her face in her hands. She’d thought she’d have years before she had to tell the media a story about her relationship with Andrew. It felt wrong that the people of England were forcing an eighteen year old girl to move so quickly.

“I just need time.” Astra said into her hands.

“Right.” Waverly made up her mind and stood, “In that case, Eoan and I are inviting you to stay here with us for the rest of your visit, Astra. We’ll tell the media that we’re very much looking forward to spending time with you before the end of your trip.”

“No, wait…” Astra looked up, heartbroken that she was losing her private little palace. Would she even get to go back and say goodbye to it?

“This isn’t a punishment, sweetheart.” Waverly sighed and then tugged Astra up to standing, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re not in trouble. Not one little bit. You’ll have more privacy here, behind our gates and with all of our guards. You’ll have one of our cars to drive you to and from the ballet, and Andy won’t be caught coming and going at all hours of the night because he already lives here… or he did before you came to town.” she said the last part teasingly to her oldest son, who had the temerity to blush at his shamelessness.

Astra felt her eyes sting with tears, “I love that palace… it’s been a good home for me.”

Waverly smiled sweetly, “You’ll be welcome to stay there the next time you come back. If you and Andrew announce an engagement, we’ll fully staff the place for you so that it’s safer. Perhaps you and Andrew could use it as your home for the time between your marriage and his assumption of the crown.”

“Really?” Andrew looked enticed by the offer.

“You’ll need to live somewhere, dear. You couldn’t live with your parents as newlyweds, it would be unbearable.” Waverly teased. “England would never get an heir that way.”

Heirs.

Hearing the queen say that word in this palace, next to the crown prince made it feel very real and very scary. Did Astra want her kids to be heirs? She thought again of Addy and Jamesy… she loved them more than anything in the world, but she couldn’t imagine raising her children for such an incredible responsibility.

Waverly continued softly, “The main thing is, we need to be very delicate here, my loves. When Andrew becomes king, he will become the head of the church. Please understand, I do not mind what you the two of you do or don’t do, so long as you are safe and consenting.”

“Mother.” Andy squirmed.

“But it would put Andrew in a difficult position, becoming head of the church, if he was seen to have a… well a marriage-style relationship with a woman who was not his wife for too long.”

“Yes, heaven forbid I have a healthy, long-term girlfriend.” Andy scowled.

“It’s the vows to God that are the issue at hand, not heaven, and you know it.” Waverly scolded his sass quietly, but efficiently.

“So we break up.” Astra concluded. “We officially break up when I go back to Illéa, and then when it’s time, I come back to England and we publicly reunite… you don’t have any church issues, and I have time to dance.”

Waverly looked between them quietly. “It might be the only option, short of scheduling dinner with your grandmother.”

Andrew looked almost as sad as if the breakup was real. Maybe he was scared it would become real once Astra was out of the whirlwind. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, “We’ll figure this out.”

He squeezed back twice, gently.

***

That night Astra slept in Andrew’s bedroom for the first time in their entire affair.

“The maids are gonna know.”

“Everyone knows.” he snorted into her hair. “That’s why we’re here and not across town in our own palace.”

“Your parents are in the building.” she complained when his hands began wandering her body.

“Not close enough to hear anything.”

“Still… what if they have to walk by for a glass of water or something?”

“You want me to keep my hands to myself tonight?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh, so shall we see who can be quietest?” he brushed his fingers across her ribs and she quietly shrieked a giggle. “You are so bad at this, darling.”

“Oh yeah?” she got her revenge with vicious tickles, exploiting every sensitive spot she’d found on his body the last few months.

***

Living in the English palace was an easy adjustment for Astra. She'd grown up in Illéa Palace which, as the functioning capital building of one of the largest nations in the world, was larger and had a much bigger staff. The English palace was certainly ancient and stately, but Astra had grown up visiting the place, so at least she wasn’t too dazzled to see this for what it was.

There was no more delivery from local restaurants once those palace gates were closed, but the royal chef made sure that Andy and Astra had everything they wanted delivered to one of their rooms each night, so that wasn’t actually too much of a change. Not only that, but the maids were discrete and only came onto their floor when Andrew was at work and Astra was at the ballet for the day, so it was almost like their bedrooms magically tidied themselves up each day.

Really, the biggest change for Astra had been weeks before, when rumors had started flying and she and Andrew had stopped venturing out into London. Andrew still appeared in her doorway just in time for dinner, looking handsome and happy to see her. They still shared good meals and long baths, and a warm bed each night. But now the illusion that time didn't exist and that they could continue peacefully, blissfully existing in their little bubble forever was burst.

Since the royal palace hadn't released a statement about the gorgeous young foreign princess living in the same palace as their handsome young future king, salacious headlines were beginning to trickle from tabloids to increasingly reputable news sources. Astra and Andrew's private affair wasn’t so private anymore.

Some part of Astra had been hoping that the rumors would die down once she and Andrew had retreated into the palace, even though she knew better. But on her second-to-final rehearsal before her big seminar performance, photographers started camping out overnight at the stage door to the ballet, not just hounding Astra but harassing her fellow dancers, too. It was humiliating to think that these world-class performers, some of whom Astra had idolized for years, were getting manhandled on their way to and from work every day because of Astra’s love life. She wasn’t sure her reputation in the industry would ever recover from this. Who would want to work with her when her very presence could cause such a disruption?

She cried in the backseat of the car on her way back to the royal palace that day, but she had big sunglasses on, and at least no photographers caught her moment of weakness.

“I don’t want to be the girl who’s dating the future king. I want to be a damn good dancer.” Astra said that night, her cheek pressed to Andrew’s chest as he drew swirling designs on her bare back with his fingers.

“You are both.”

“You don’t understand… you literally can’t.”

“What?” Andrew wasn’t insulted, which was the great thing about him. He was always humble about his own limitations. “Why can I not understand?”

“Have you ever looked up to someone who was truly excellent at the very thing that you wanted to be truly excellent at?”

“Of course.”

“Who?”

“King Maxon.”

Astra rolled her eyes and lifted her head so he could see her at it. “You met him when you could still count your age on one hand.”

“So?”

“So most people never get to meet their idols, and if they do it’s because they’ve worked extremely hard to become very good at something. There are choreographers and dancers at this seminar that I’ve admired for a decade. And now my presence is turning their workplace, a place I consider to be sacred, into a hostile circus.”

Andrew frowned down at her and said softly, “Did I not promise you terrifying clowns?”

“I don’t want to bring chaos to every stage I cross.” Astra pouted.

Andrew nodded and said, “So we should announce our breakup immediately. I’ll release a statement tomorrow, and ask a friend of mine to appear in public with me tomorrow night… a woman. It won’t cure everything overnight, but it would surely alleviate some of the pressure.”

Astra stared into his eyes, then studied the line of his nose, the cut of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw. “That’s a lot of trouble to go through just for me.”

“Astra, are you joking? You’re the one going through trouble for me.”

Astra nodded, but she dropped a kiss onto his lips anyway. “Okay, but the breakup is fake.” her lips danced over his.

His teeth gently teased her lower lip as he replied, “Yeah. I noticed.”

***

As warm and inviting as the arms holding her were, Astra had a difficult time staying asleep that night. She was nervous about returning to rehearsals the next morning, nervous about their final performance, now only a couple of days away, nervous about her new relationship with Andrew, and nervous about being nervous about her new relationship with Andrew.

At around four in the morning she slipped out of bed and tiptoed back to her suite, where she found a pitcher of water and a tray of snacks waiting for her. She spent so many hours of her day exercising that sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night ravenously, painfully hungry, so she’d requested that she be left some snacks just in case. She picked at a scone, lost in her anxieties, and her stress about not being able to sleep, until the telephone next to her bed rang so loudly and shrilly that it caused her to jump and splash some of her glass of water onto her night shirt.

“Hello?” Astra picked up the phone, hoping to hear an Illéan voice on the other end of the line. She hadn’t spoken to Addy in a few days, and it had been almost a week since her Aunt Ames or Uncle Maxon had phoned. She hadn’t spoken to her parents in longer than that, but they’d be arriving in London in less that twenty-four hours so that they could watch her final performance, so she wasn’t too desperate to speak to them.

And while the voice on the other line was Illéan, it definitely wasn’t one she had been expecting.

“Hey.”

Astra’s stomach clenched and her body flooded with adrenaline. She reminded herself to behave like a normal person and not like a lunatic when, as casually as she could, she replied, “Kile? Is that you?” like she didn’t know. Like she wouldn’t know his voice anywhere, anytime, under any circumstance. She knew his voice better than she knew her own.

“Sorry, I know it’s the middle of the night over there. …You don’t sound like you were sleeping, though.”

He would know.

Astra gulped hard, “I needed a snack.” It was a lie, but it was close enough to the truth.

“Hm. Is he there then?”

Astra felt defensive anger flare up in her chest, and only later realized that the anger was covering a sense of guilt. “So what if he is? You broke up with me—“

“Astra—“

“No, it’s okay. I’m not saying that in a mean way. I’m stating a fact. We are not together because you broke up with me, so why do you care if he’s here?”

There was a long pause and then a low groan on the other end of the phone. Astra heard a brush of fabric over his microphone, as if he’d been rubbing his face and his sleeve caught on the receiver.

“I want to know if he’s there, because I want to talk to you when you’re alone. It’s why I’m calling so late… or early, I guess.” Kile said.

Astra’s traitor heart beat faster. What did he want to talk to her about when she was alone? Was he going to apologize? Was he going to ask for her back?

It was too late, obviously. Astra had obviously moved on. Obviously. “He’s not here.”

Kile sounded relieved when he said, “Good.” and that annoyed Astra. He had no right to be relieved that she wasn’t in bed with another man. He’d hurt her in a way she’d never known she could hurt before.

She lashed out, “I didn’t want to wake him up with my snacking. But he’ll probably notice I’m gone soon, so you should hurry up and say what you want to say.”

The pained sound that snuck out of his throat with his next exhale was not as satisfying as Astra had hoped it would be. She regretted her words already. Maybe now he wouldn’t ask for her back… not that she wanted him to.

Kile said, “Let me ask you something…”

This was it. He was going to ask for forgiveness. He was going to ask her to come back to Illéa and be with him.

“What do you want more than anything in the world?” Kile said.

What was he expecting her to say? That she wanted him? She was dating the Crown Prince of England!

“Astra?”

“What do you mean, Kile?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean? For our whole lives you’ve always wanted one thing more than anything in the world. What is it?”

Oh. Astra replied almost mechanically, her voice barely above a mumble, “I want to be the Prima Ballerina for the Angeles Ballet for at least a season, maybe two.”

“And you wanted that enough that you didn’t even think about moving closer to my university, because it would have taken you away from the Angeles ballet. And not for a good reason, like that invitation you got to dance in Waverly. For no reason. For me.”

“You’re not no reason—“

“No, I’m just not a good enough reason.”

“Kile—“

“You can’t argue with that.”

“You said you wouldn’t promise to look for apprenticeships and internships in the cities where I was dancing. You said you don’t want to live in Angeles when you grow up!”

“I don’t. I’m going to go where I can do my best work.” he said plainly. “I still think you and I made a good choice to split up.”

Hearing him say that was hard. She wanted him to regret it. She wanted him to miss her like she had missed him before Andrew had swept her off her feet. Losing him had changed her and she would never be the same as she was before, and he wasn’t even sorry.

Kile continued, “I’m just saying… what was the point of drawing a line in the sand about you and me if you were just going to walk all over it for Andy?”

“What?”

“We both know that you’ll never be prima anything if you marry Andy. You told me yourself, every waking hour of a prima’s life is devoted to dancing or preparing to dance. There are no hobbies, no vacations, no date nights. There definitely isn't time to be somebody’s princess.”

“I’m already an Illéan Prin—“

“Cut the shit, Astra, you know what I mean.” Kile sounded exasperated, and she knew why. She was trying to miss his point, but he wasn’t exactly being subtle about it so dodging it was proving impossible.

“Maybe I want something else now. Maybe I want to marry Andrew.”

“Look… Andy’s not a bad guy—“ Kile admitted through gritted teeth, “But there will be plenty of not bad guys waiting for you after you retire. So if you pick him, do it because you want the life he’ll give you more than the life you can earn for yourself. And be ready to bury your dreams of being a prima ballerina forever, if you do. I know you, and I know you’re getting swept up in this—“

“Don’t talk about me like I’m some helpless little… little damsel, Kile.” Astra snapped.

“Think about it logistically. Do you want to move to the other side of the world from your parents and your little brothers? They’ll visit you as often as they can, but your visits to Illéa will always be to the Palace, to King Maxon and Addy. You won’t be able to go home again. Do you want to have to keep a royal schedule, planned months and years in advance? And you can forget being around from Addy once she becomes queen, you’ll be trapped on the far side of an ocean.”

“Kile—“ Astra tried to interrupt him because she wanted him to stop making sense.

“What about the little things? What about the weather? You’re an Angeles girl, are you going to miss the sun? You know they use different numbers for temperature over there, right? How’s it going to feel to wake up in the morning and have some maid tell you that it’s twenty-five degrees outside, so you’d better stay in the shade to keep cool?”

“Kile.” Astra laughed.

“I’m serious. You’re not just choosing a career here, Astra, you’re choosing a life: from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.” Kile paused and let out a tired sigh. “I just don’t want you to make a big mistake that you can’t undo. I know how badly you want to dance. You’re not ready for this, and even if you were, this wouldn’t be the right choice for you.”

“I’ve changed, Kile.” she wanted to add that he’d changed her. That losing him had made her someone new, someone she didn’t even know yet, but she kept that part to herself. Listening to his voice for so long that night… suddenly she found that she didn’t want to hurt him anymore.

“It’s barely been three months, Astra. You haven’t changed that much.” he promised.

Astra wasn’t sure. Sometimes change was gradual, sure, but sometimes change was all at once. Traumatic change was a sudden shattering of what came before, such that one could never go back again. That was what losing Kile had been like.

But did that mean she wanted to give up dancing and become Andrew’s princess? His queen? His wife and the mother of his heirs? Did she want to leave Illéa forever and eventually move into this palace?

She wanted all of that when she was wrapped up in Andrew’s arms.

But here, alone in the middle of the night when she had her wits about her…

She climbed back into bed and woke Andrew up with steady, gentle kisses. Everything about the love they made that morning was slow and desperate, and even though she hadn’t meant it to, in the end it felt like goodbye.

***

Astra was gone to her final rehearsals before dawn, but later that morning Andrew was true to his word and made a big announcement that he and Astra had both been secretly dating, and were now publicly broken up. He made a good show of wandering around London looking sad that day, and that night he went out to dinner with a fashion model friend, who did not mind the publicity one little bit.

There were still plenty of photographers salivating at the chance to photograph Astra looking dismal at having lost the chance to become an English princess, but at least they were leaving the rest of the dancers, and everyone else associated with the ballet, in peace.

Astra’s parents arrived at the royal palace in time for dinner that night, and Astra had a lot of explaining to do to them. King Eoan and Queen Waverly seemed to find Astra’s discomfort at explaining her affair with Andrew to her parents over roasted asparagus incredibly amusing, and possibly reminiscent of the beginning of their own relationship. It wasn’t fair, though. Andrew missed all the “fun”, making sure it looked like he was rebounding with that gorgeous model.

That night, Astra was too nervous about her impending final performance to wait up for Andrew to get back to the Palace. She could go to bed early or never at all. She drank some tea laced with a little bit of melatonin and fell asleep soon after dinner.

She woke up in Andrew’s arms, her cheek pressed to the side of his bare chest. She listened to him breathe deeply and evenly for a little while and tried one last time.

She could quit dancing.

She could leave Illéa forever.

She could raise her children to be heirs.

Her children could raise their children to be heirs.

When she died, her bones could be interred in a big old church.

Her whole life could be that easy.

God, it would be so easy.

“Andy?” she whispered.

He didn’t stir.

“Andrew?” she tried again, this time pulling away from him and sitting up in bed.

He didn’t hear her, but he reacted to the loss of her warmth, and eventually his heavy eyelids fluttered open. “Astra?”

“What time did you get in last night?”

“This morning.” He admitted, yawning widely. “I expect the tabloids will be plastered with headlines about their debaucherous future king today.”

“Was it any fun?”

“Yeah. Ellie’s great; she’s always happy to be photographed on my arm. Missed you, though.” he added, as if suddenly awake enough to worry that she was jealous.

She wasn’t the slightest bit jealous. Well, the slightest bit, but not for the reasons he would assume. Astra was jealous because Ellie could keep being photographed on Andrew’s arm for as long as she pleased, with no consequences.

“Maybe you should marry Ellie.” Astra suggested.

Andrew laughed, and it turned into a yawn. Then he explained, “Ellie’s too focused on her career right now. And anyway, she’d be far more interested in you.”

“Now that would be a tabloid headline.” Astra joked weakly.

“What’s the matter? Are you nervous for your performance? Is it because you’re leaving England this time tomorrow? Is it because you told your parents what’s been happening between us—“

“I’m not nervous.” Astra said, even though her stomach was in knots. Those weren’t nerves. That was grief. “Andy… I want to be a ballet dancer.”

Andrew sat up in bed now and rubbed the sleep from his eyes so he could focus on her. The words were familiar, but her tone was alarming. “Of course you do. You are a ballet dancer, and you’re bloody brilliant.”

“I want to be a prima ballerina.”

“Okay.”

“That sort of excellence takes years to achieve.”

“Good job you’ve been dancing since you were four years old, then.”

“Shh.” she pressed a finger to his lips so that he would stop talking back and listen to her. He complied. “I won’t be ready to be a prima for seven or eight years. I have a lot to learn. And when I’m ready, I want to be a Prima Ballerina for at least one season, maybe two. That’s every waking hour devoted to dance for two years straight. Then I want to live in Angeles and stay close to Addy in the first few years of her reign. I want to be there when she gets married and has babies, because she is great at putting on a brave face and absolutely terrible at processing the emotions that are scaring her into needing to be brave. She’s going to need me, and I’m excited to be there for her. I can’t live on a different continent than my dad. There can’t such a huge time difference between me and my mom. I can’t be a foreign queen. I don’t want to be foreign at all. Andrew… I can’t marry you.” Her cheeks were wet and her voice cracked, but she didn’t know when, in that little breathless tirade, she’d started crying.

Andrew stared blankly ahead, hugging his knees to his chest around their blanket. He didn’t look surprised. He’d known she was too good to be true all along. Finding his queen could never have been so easy, so perfect. He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

“Andy, none of those reasons I gave have anything to do with you. I love you. You’re a good man, and a great partner, and you have no business being such a talented kisser when you’re so handsome. It’s overkill.” she waited for him to smile. She waited for him to do anything. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Andrew. I just can’t marry you. I’m eighteen years old, I just got control of my life. I’m not ready to sign it over to a monarchy. I would love to be your wife, Andy, but I would hate to be your queen.”

Andrew blinked hard, then looked over at her. His voice was too casual, his words were too easy when he said, “I understand entirely. I can wait.”

Astra furrowed her brow, trying to hold his far off gaze. “Wait? What do you mean, wait?”

“You want to be a prima ballerina, and you said it would take you nine or ten years to accomplish your goal. Fine. I will wait, and when you’re ready I’ll ask to marry you.”

“No, Andy—“

“I don’t mind ruling on my own for a while.”

“That’s more than a while! You’ll be king in four years—“

“It isn’t a problem.” he insisted.

“Did you hear the part about what I want to do after I retire? About living in Illéa, about staying close to my family?”

“Astra, once we’re married, you can do whatever you like.”

“But queens have responsibilities.”

“We can redefine the role to mean whatever you’d like it to mean. I don’t care. I love you, Astra, and you’re the best future queen I could ever hope for.”

Astra paused, blinking hard against the tears in her eyes. It hurt to hear him say that. It hurt to realize that he didn’t believe he deserved any better. “Andy, that’s not true. You deserve a wife who will stay by your side. You deserve a wife who adores you and would be willing to sacrifice her own ambitions to serve England. I’m not good enough to be your queen.”

“Then no one ever will be.”

“Andrew—“

“Let me wait for you, Astra, please.” His voice broke on that last work, his eyes finally meeting hers and betraying his anguish. “Let me hope. It’s all that I have left.”

Astra couldn’t figure out what would be crueler, to let him hope when she’d made up her mind, or to take that hopeless hope away from him.

So she wrapped him up in her arms and they laid down. She combed her fingers through his hair and he brushed his thumb against her ribs until her alarm clock rang and her last day in London began.

***

In retrospect, Astra should have chosen a happy, upbeat, peppy song for her exhibition. She could have flounced all over the stage and spun a ridiculous number of times on her toes, and allowed her partner to toss her all over the place with an enormous smile on her face.

Instead, she’d chosen an exhibition from a ballet about a woman mourning her dead lover, dancing with his ghost. She’d been thinking of Kile when she’d chosen it, hoping it would help her work out her feelings about their doomed childhood romance. Now she was about to take the stage of the royal ballet, with Andrew and his parents in the royal box, watching her close enough that she could see the pained look on Andrew’s face as clear as anything.

Astra and her dance partner, Geoffrey, took their place while the stage was lit in nothing but the darkest of blue lights. He laid down across on their only set piece, an enormous fake rock, and Astra settled over him in a dramatic pose of despair, arm flung over her forehead.

The first part of the dance was hers alone. Her grief, her agony, her desperation. None of it was fake. When Geoffrey arose, as a ghost, and began dancing with her, the bittersweet mixture of joy and sorrow was easy to tap into. Nothing brought her more joy than dancing, and nothing brought her more sorrow in that moment than Andrew watching her live the life she’d chosen over him.

When Geoffrey faded back into the fog upstage and left Astra alone again in the center of the stage, all the passion and desperation fled with him. The rest of the dance was small and slow, painfully precise movements timed with the orchestra just so that if she made the slightest misstep, it would be immediately, embarrassingly obvious.

But Astra did not have to fake the exhaustion and resignation her character was feeling. If she allowed herself to second guess her decision to break away from Andrew now, she’d second guess it forever. The roar of the audience as the last tremulous notes from the string section died away seemed to make a deafening contrast.

Astra was surprised to find tears had started pouring down her cheeks somewhere during that performance. Geoffrey returned and took her hand, and they bowed. As was customary for this exhibition, several members of the audience threw flowers onto the stage. From the third row, Astra’s dad threw a whole bouquet, and a little teddy bear. Astra laughed as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. Then she turned to the royal box to curtsey, perfectly observing royal protocol, and was startled to find that Andrew had been crying, too.

He tossed her a single white rose with a beautiful red satin ribbon tied around the stem, but the look on his face was resignation. He could love her with all of his heart for all of his life and still never be able to give her the kind of affirmation she got from a packed theater full of an adoring audience. He’d seen her dance dozens of times in her room at her little palace, and hell, he’d even danced with her himself. But seeing her like this in front of them…

He could wait until the oceans ran dry and the mountains fell flat, and every single star in the sky flickered into darkness… Astra was never coming back to him.

Astra spent that night with her parents, letting them gush over her and spoil her with presents, and help her pack up the life she’d made in London for the last few months. She hoped Andrew would come and say goodbye once her parents went back to the suite they were staying in, but he never appeared, and Astra didn’t chase him down because she thought he deserved to set the terms. That dance had been her goodbye to him. It was up to him whether he wanted to say goodbye in return.

The next morning, Queen Waverly was the only one in the entrance hall waiting to see the Orders family off as they left. The English Royal jet would take them as far as Carolina, where they would visit James’ family for a little while.

Astra imagined Andrew’s private car speeding out onto the tarmac to stop them. She imagined him dashing from the backseat and waving his arms to alert the pilots that they couldn’t leave until he’d said his farewells.

He didn’t come. It was easier this way.

Kenna and James stayed with Astra’s grandparents for a few days, but James had to go back to work and Kenna needed to get back to the Palace. Aunt Ames had five children, two of them under the age of six, and though they had plenty of help in that Palace, Kenna was their primary nanny, their aunt, and she missed them like crazy.

Astra stayed with her grandparents for a couple of weeks, until her contract at the Waverly Ballet began. The media frenzy around her got much better in that time, though it was impossible not to notice that things were staying hectic around Andrew as the English tabloids seemed to catch on to how severely he’d had his heart broken.

Astra wished she could take some of that public shame away.

She wished she could take some of his pain away, even as she was mending her own broken heart. Her weeks in Carolina were good for that purpose. Her grandparents spoiled her rotten, and she gave her body a much-needed break from dancing. Instead, she spent her days learning needlepoint from her grandmother, and her nights stargazing out by the pond where her parents used to sneak off on dates before Gramma Magda gave up trying to convince Kenna to marry someone from a higher caste.

When Astra packed her bags to take the short flight up to Waverly to begin yet another new life with another new ballet company, she was still wearing the beautiful red ribbon that Andrew gave her as a parting gift on that rose, tied around her wrist.

And when, years later, she sat on her sofa and watched him become King of England in front of the entire world, her fingers traced that now slightly frayed red ribbon, Andy’s last gift to her, in a familiar, much-practiced gesture.

It would have been so easy to say yes, to give in to the pressure and let herself get swept away by the English people, the royal traditions, the prince’s staggering blue eyes. It would have been a good life, too. A perfectly fine marriage.

But Astra didn’t want to be queen, and now she wouldn’t have to be, and the freedom she felt watching Andrew bear the weight of that crown was all the reminder she needed: she made the right decision. And now, despite the dull ache of longing in her chest for he boy she’d loved and left behind, she was happy. Truly happy. She was at peace with her past, content in her present, and excited for her future.

When the coronation coverage ended, Astra got ready to return to bed. She was surprised when her phone rang, but she knew exactly who it would be.

“Mom?” she said, before the person on the other line could say a word. Her little cousins would have had just enough time to be tucked back into bed by now, if Aunt May was helping. Kenna would have rushed to the phone as soon as she got the chance.

“Sweetie? How are you, little bug?”

“I’m fine, Mom, I don’t need the pet names.” Astra grinned, rolling her eyes.

“Are you sure?” Kenna double-checked.

“Yeah. I wish Andrew wasn’t alone up there. I still love him, I don’t want him to suffer. But I was nothing but relieved when they put that crown on his head and I didn’t have to put one on mine. I made the right choice.”

“I know you did, honey, but just because you did the right thing doesn’t mean you have to feel perfectly fine about it. Especially not on a night like this.”

“Honestly, Mom… my time in London feels like another life. One I’m nothing but grateful for, but not one I want to relive.”

At first, Astra’s spring with Andrew felt like it had never really happened, or like it had happened to someone else, or like it was all a fever dream: too hot, too heady, a surreal hallucination more than a fairytale fantasy. But now, with some time and space, Astra could see it for what it really was: a romantic affair with someone she could have chosen to marry, but who ultimately was not the right fit for her. On the one hand, Astra and Andrew loved each other, and their marriage would have been fine: they’d known each other forever and they each fully understood the challenges of the royal life they would have been embarking on together.

On the other hand, Astra had known what she wanted out of life since she was a very small girl. It was a hard thing to ask an eighteen year old to walk away from a guaranteed royal wedding for a chance to work very hard to one day, possibly, make her dream come true. If Astra hadn’t grown up in Illéa Palace, she might not have made the same choice. But everything she got out of her life from now on was truly hers, she was the captain of her own fate, and even if she failed and never became a prima ballerina, at least this way she’d have had the chance.

“But Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t ever tell Gramma Magda that Andrew proposed to me and I turned him down. I think she would disown me.”

#challenge #Astra and Andrew Challenge #RIP your dashes if the Keep Reading doesn't work #its almost 16000 words long #one for every tear I cried breaking Andrew's heart

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