#Saturday Night at the Palace | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hellfirenacht · 1 year ago

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Wing Man Part 2

No beta, we die like men and edit in post.

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Steve go hang out at the Palace Arcade with a bunch of high schoolers and pit two against each other in air hockey.

5.5k words

Part 1

Steve learned more in the next half hour about Eddie Munson than he ever wanted to know. Eddie had been in a band since middle school, and he played guitar. Eddie hadn’t started the Hellfire Club, but had taken it over three years ago and had been the designated DM ever since. Eddie probably sold drugs, but wouldn’t sell to freshmen. Eddie had picked out Dustin and Mike in the lunchroom after they had been banished from every other table. Eddie knew everything about metal music and sometimes skipped class to sleep in his van. Eddie lived in a trailer with his uncle Wayne and was probably going to graduate this year. Eddie was just so cool and Dustin clearly looked up to him.

Eddie also had long hair. Well, at least that was something you had been specific about.

“Do you think he’d be interested in going on a date with her?” Steve asked after Dustin had finished gushing about Eddie.

“Maybe?” Dustin said. “He doesn’t talk about his dating life much. We mostly just talk about music and D&D.”

Steve could have strangled him. “Dustin, you just spent the past half hour talking about him, knowing that this was to help her get a date. What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

“Look, I’m just giving you the information I have.” Dustin said. “If you want you could come to a Hellfire meeting and bring her along to meet him.” Once again he had a shit-eating grin that Steve was quickly losing tolerance for.

“We don’t go there anymore, we’re not gonna be allowed on campus.” Steve said. “Can’t you just, I don’t know, help set up some sort of meeting outside of school?”

Dustin thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Sidequest day!” he said.

“Side- what?”

“Sidequest day! Sometimes Hellfire Club will meet up at the arcade to play games. Eddie will sometimes give buffs or inspiration for the game if we win tickets or get a high score.” Dustin explained.

“You’re speaking an alien language, Henderson.” Steve sighed.

“Just come to the arcade next Saturday and bring her.” Dustin instructed. “We can introduce them, and you can try and play matchmaker.”

It was as good a plan as any, and more importantly it was convenient. It would probably mean skipping out on a potential date but you’d already done so much for him that he’d be willing to give up a Saturday night to help you. He just needed to get you one date, and if that happened to be with Eddie Munson of all people then so be it.

“Fine, we’ll be there.” Steve agreed.

“Good!” Dustin smiled. “Now, about the campaign he’s running-”

Steve would let Dustin ramble for the rest of the shift about the campaign until you came out to politely kick Dustin out when you and Steve closed.

Going out on a Saturday night proved to be more tricky than expected. You were the only one who could reliably work on Saturday nights, being the only one willing to do so. It had taken a lot of pushing and some bribery to have Keith agree to take your shift for the night. He owed you anyway for all the times you had covered for him.

Steve hadn’t told you the full truth about what the plan was. He had only said that since you were a weirdo, he’d take you to the arcade where other weirdos might be. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to you since you’d been to the arcade plenty of times and it was mostly kids there. It didn’t seem like the ideal spot to flirt with guys, but he knew more about this stuff than you did.

He told you to meet him outside the arcade at 6:30, and to look good. You had insisted that you always looked good, but you at least made sure to wear something that made you feel confident and followed up the same with your hair and make up. When was the last time you had an excuse to really put in effort? You looked presentable at work, but this was different. Your reflection in the mirror after you had put yourself together made you feel good. Even if tonight was a total bust on the flirting front, at least you knew you looked good.

It was 6:20 when you showed up at the arcade, and Steve showed up at 6:35. The past fifteen minutes had you watching excited kids and tired parents and disgruntled older siblings enter the building. If you were going to be completely honest, this didn’t seem very promising.

“So, I’m going to be frank with you, everyone here looks either way too young or too old for me.” you said as you both made your way inside. “The only person I’ve seen close to my age hanging around here is Keith and, Harrington, I swear if your end of the bargain is making me go on a date with him, I am firing you on the spot.”

“You can’t fire me.” Steve snorted.

“I can set you on fire.”

“I’m not setting you up with Keith!” he promised, holding his hands up. “I just think that this is a place where a lot of weirdos could hang out. And hey, if there’s no one here that’s interesting we could at least play some games or something.”

“Steve, I have a very serious question for you.” You turned to look him dead in the eyes. “This isn’t you trying to be my date, right? I know you’ve been overloading on romcoms with all the dates you’ve been going on. Please tell me this isn’t some sort of half-ass way to take me on an arcade date so you can say you got me a date.”

“What? No. You’re the one watching too many romcoms here.” Steve accused. “You turned me down, I get it, you have terrible taste. I accept this about you- ow!”

Steve winced as you smacked the back of his head. “Okay, good. I just wanted to make sure. Let’s just play some games for now, I’m really not seeing anyone our age around here.”

As the two of you made your way around the arcade, Steve kept an eye on the time. Dustin had told Steve that ‘Sidequest Day’ (whatever that meant) would be starting at 7:00. He just needed to keep you entertained for a half hour and then the club would show up.

Lucky for him, you were actually very easy to keep entertained. You bounced around from game to game, with eager enthusiasm often getting distracted by the many blinking lights and sounds from all the machines. You didn’t even notice it when a group of guys walked in all wearing the same shirt.

Steve noticed though.

“Henderson!” He called out, casually.

“Steve!” Dustin walked up to him. “What a surprise, I did not expect to see you at the arcade tonight!”

You looked up from a cabinet that you were considering playing, that was a weird tone of voice Dustin had used. One that seemed- no it was suspicious. Steve and Dustin had definitely planned on meeting here tonight. They really were not as smooth as they thought they were. But who were you to spoil a plan? You decided to roll with it.

“Hey, Dustin!” You said walking over to the pair. “Good to see you again.”

“They let you leave the Family Video?” Dustin asked. “The way Steve talked, you’d think they kept you chained to the front desk.”

“Union rules say that they have to let me leave at least once a week for mandatory enrichment time.” you joked. “Somehow I got lucky and got a Saturday off.”

You looked over Dustin, and his bright open button up on top of his Hellfire Club shirt. You had vague memories about that club in high school.

“Hellfire Club... I remember that from when I was in school.” you said after a moment. “Yeah, wasn’t it Chris Morrison that ran it?” You turned towards Steve.

“How would I know? I was popular.” Steve said.

“Yeah, I think he was the leader until he graduated and then Eddie took over.” Dustin said, looking down at his shirt. “I think he said that the club was a lot smaller back then.”

“Yeah well Chris was a dick who didn’t actually want anyone joining his super secret club.” you huffed, rolling your eyes.

“Wait, you knew him?” Dustin’s eyes widened.

“That’s a strong word, but we were in the same grade. I tried to ask him about the club once but he blew me off and told me I wasn’t smart enough to understand the game. So I got a copy of the rule book and spent the next few weeks memorizing it out of spite.” you snorted.

Steve looked at you like you had lost your mind (fair), and Dustin looked like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said (impressed).

“...Anyway, I see a lot of the same shirt running around now. I take it that Hellfire isn’t as closed off now?” you asked.

“Uh, yeah!” Dustin said. “The new leader- Eddie- he’s a lot more open to people joining. He’s the one who invited me and Mike to join.”

You looked over at where Mike was leaning over a cabinet in concentration. He didn’t come into Family Video as often as Dustin did to bother Steve, but he had come in enough for you to witness the kid shoot up about a foot in the past few months.

“It’s alarming how fast he’s growing.” you said. “Well, I’m glad that it’s more open now and that you’re having fun with it.”

“Yeah, Eddie’s great, you should meet him!” Dustin said.

You stared at him, and slowly looked over to Steve whos’ face had met his palm.

“Steve.” you said slowly. “Did you bring me to the arcade to meet a highschooler?”

“He’s twenty!” Both Dustin and Steve said in unison. You weren’t sure if that was better or worse.

You knew that the dating pool would be limited for you, but you didn’t think it would be that narrow. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if Dustin and Steve both vouched for this guy it couldn’t be that bad, right?

“Oh boy.” you sighed. “Alright, I’ll play along. Does this guy know I’m supposed to be meeting him?”

“Nope!” Dustin said. “He doesn’t have a clue.”

“Wait, did you tell Dustin about our deal, Steve?” you asked.

“I needed help and he happened to have a new older male friend that happens to be a freak.” Steve said nonchalantly. Well, this was going to be a very interesting night.

“He’s more than just a freak, you know.” frowned Dustin.

You racked your brain trying to think back to your time in high school, trying to remember if you knew any Eddie’s. In all honesty, you never were good at noticing people outside of your own circle of friends. How some people seemed to know everyone's full name and popularity rank was beyond you. Hawkins High had 2000 students, like how did people even know that much? Who had the time? Who cared?

While Dustin and Steve continued their odd squabble, you looked around the arcade for this mystery person. Nope, still nothing but not-age-appropriate high schoolers. Oh well, the Q*bert cabinet was free, and playing a round was better than standing around nervously to meet someone who had no idea they were being set up to meet you.

Damn, poor guy had no idea what he was getting himself into tonight. You felt a little bad that you were potentially crashing his club’s night out. If this went bad, you were putting Steve on backroom duty for a month.

“Where are you going?” Dustin asked as you walked off.

“I’m gonna play a game,” you said, putting your quarter in the machine. “Let me know when this guy shows up because I cannot take the suspense.”

“You know, this is why it’s hard to get you a date. You keep saying you’re interested and then the second you have a chance to meet someone you change the subject.” Steve sighs, leaning against the machine.

“Who are you, my therapist?” You asked, focusing on the game. “I know you’re right. If I’m going to be completely honest with you I am actually nervous about meeting someone. I’m sure that it’ll be fine and I have no real expectations but it’s still hard to put yourself out there.”

“I’ve been putting myself out there for months and had a two month dry streak.” he pointed out as Dustin stepped behind you and watched you play.

“You’re King Steve. People will like you no matter if they date you or not. You’re popular, as you love to keep reminding me.” You didn’t take your eyes from the screen.

“Yeah, well I was also a total dick in high school.” Steve admitted. “I fucked up a lot and pissed a lot of people off because I thought I was hot shit. If you want the honest truth, I’d probably be a better person if I hadn’t tried so hard to be popular. It took getting my ass kicked for me to realize that.”

“It’s true, he got his ass beat a lot this summer.” Dustin piped up which earned a glare from Steve.

You thought this over, the movement of the character on screen helping you think. “If I wasn’t enough for anyone in Hellfire when I was a junior, if I wasn’t enough for the freaks when I was a weirdo in school, why would I be now?”

“Because Chris Morrison was a dick!” Dustin yelled out, far louder than he really should have.

“Jesus, Dustin we are right here!” you said, shaking your head.

“Henderson is right.” a new voice said from behind you. “Morrison was the biggest asshole that Hellfire has ever seen. Worst DM too.”

The voice was lower in tone than Steve’s, and there was an energy to it that made everything else background noise. This new person was very sure of themselves, and you had a very bad feeling of who was going to be standing behind you as soon as you turned around.

You focused even harder on the game.

“I had one conversation with him in Junior year and promised myself to never talk to him again.” you said, trying to calm yourself. He definitely did not sound like a high schooler, which was a good sign. You risked a glance at Steve who looked like he didn’t know what to make of the newcomer. That was a bad sign. Maybe.

“Yeah well I wouldn’t have kept talking to him if I could have helped it.” This voice- you were going to just assume it was Eddie, said. “I didn’t think you were the type to hang out at the arcade, Harrington.”

“I’m not.” Steve said. “I am only here for a friend.” Steve gestured to you, smacking your hand on ‘accident’ and making you die. “Whoops.”

It was clear he had done that completely on purpose. Backroom duty for a week.

“Thanks, Steve.” you said and turned around slowly to face this new person.

Oh, you were going to murder Steve Harrington into the ground dead. The man before you- and he was definitely a man- was unfortunately for you, completely your type. Long wavy brown hair fell just past his shoulders onto a denim vest covered in buttons and patches over a leader jacket. He was also wearing a Hellfire Club t-shirt and you glanced a quick look at his ripped jeans and wallet chain.

You wished that you would have warned Steve that you were never your types’ type. This was doomed before it even started. But that was a freeing thought in a way, you weren’t going to be this guy's type so that meant you didn’t have to try. If Steve could hear your thoughts, he’d probably get pissed at you for already giving up, but that was fine.

“Oh uh, Eddie, this is Steve and his co-worker.” Dustin said, introducing you by your name and title. “They both went to Hawkins High.”

“Nice to meet you.” you reached out and offered your hand, and he took it. Eddie’s hand was warm and you got a glance at chunky silver rings on his fingers. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t quite read; he was smiling but also seemed to be studying you.

“I know who King Steve is.” Eddie said in a way that made Steve roll his eyes. “When did you go to school?” he asked.

“I graduated in ‘83.” you said, looking at him. His eyes were very round and expressive, and he was still studying you. There was something familiar about him that you couldn’t place your finger on. Then again, he was only a little younger than you so you probably saw him in school.

That was good enough for Eddie as he dropped your hand and turned back to Dustin. “So, Henderson. Are you going to keep standing there talking, or are you going to earn that magic dice roll you’ve been talking about all week?”

You’d never seen Henderson look nervous around Steve, but there was tension in Dustin’s shoulders as Eddie talked to him. But you didn’t get the sense that it was a bad thing, Eddie seemed... intense. With Steve, Dustin was always ready to bicker with and defy. With Eddie, he was ready to hop to it, whatever it was.

Geeze, no wonder Steve was jealous.

“Yup!” Dustin said quickly. “I’m just gonna go, go over there and find something to play.” He glanced at you pointedly before hurrying off in Mike’s direction.

“So, my friend here actually had an interest in Hellfire Club back in the day.” Steve said before Eddie could turn and leave. Eddie looked at you in surprise.

No one would find Steve’s body after you were done with it.

“Really?” Eddie said. “And what about our little club was so interesting to you?”

You didn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes glanced at Steve. That was a look you understood all too well, it was one you’d given many a popular kid back in the day. Eddie thought Steve was being a dick, and for good reason. That was the look you’d given when someone came up to you and said ‘my friend thinks you’re cute’. Except now you were the friend.

There was no going back now, you couldn’t let that tension be his first impression of you. Steve had set you up to be honest and vulnerable right off the bat. Great.

“Yeah, I asked Chris about joining back then.” you said honestly. “I’d had an interest in D&D, but never had a chance to play. But he shot me down pretty hard, so I... didn’t.”

Eddie’s shoulders relaxed as he looked down at you. “That doesn’t surprise me.” he said. “He was a bigger cynic than I am, and wouldn’t give anyone outside Hellfire the time of day. He didn’t even talk to anyone after he graduated.”

His gaze didn’t leave yours and it almost felt like there was a spotlight on you. Or maybe one of those lamps that you’d see in movies when someone was being interrogated. Eddie might have relaxed but you had a feeling that Steve being here wasn’t exactly winning you points. But Steve was also your friend, which made things a bit complicated.

Damn, why did you always have to be the one to bend over backwards to impress a guy? This is why you stopped dating in high school. Oh wait, this guy didn’t even know he was supposed to be making an impression. Looks like you were going to have to be the one to take the lead on this one.

Not that it mattered, because as previously stated, this was already dead on arrival.

The conversation immediately stagnated, as anything interesting you could have possibly said died in your throat. You could feel Steve’s gaze boring into your skull now, willing you to say something.

“Yeah, he wasn’t really social.” you managed to force out.

The sound of a game machine and hyped yelling suddenly echoed through the arcade and the three of you looked up to see the whole club huddled around a basketball game, cheering one of their friends on.

Eddie took that as his sign to remove himself from the conversation and made his way towards the game without so much as a goodbye.

“Seriously?” Steve asked when Eddie was out of earshot. “I hand you a conversation topic on a plate and you fumble it that badly?”

“I couldn’t think of anything to say!” you groaned. “Gossiping about Chris Morrison isn’t exactly the juicy conversation topic you think it is.”

“You were supposed to talk about your nerd shit, not about Chris!” he shot back.

“He thought we were making fun of him, Steve.” you said, watching as Eddie stood with his arms crossed as his club cheered over the game they were playing. Two members flanked him on each side, and even if you didn’t know that he was in charge, it was clear that he held power over these kids.

“Making fun of him? How the hell did you get that idea?” Steve was gawking at you. “I told him you were interested in his weird club!”

“Steve, I get that you were popular in high school. But you know that popular kids are dicks right? That popular kids will say things that sound nice, but are clearly making fun of whatever it is they’re talking about? That’s what he thought was happening.” You sighed.

“That’s not- I didn’t-” He was at a loss for words for a moment. “Shit. Did it really sound like that?”

“With the way he looked at me? Yeah, he thought so.”

The two of you were quiet for a moment, and you leaned against the arcade cabinet again as you contemplated what the next move would be. Maybe you’d just adopt a cat or twelve instead.

“I knew people did that.” Steve admitted after a while. “I hated it, but I went along with that shit because my shit friends told me it was fine and cool.”

“Steve, while I always appreciate that you are always learning and growing, let’s save the character development for later.” you said, cracking your knuckles. “Now, are you gonna help me talk to this guy or what?”

That snapped him out of his pity party. “You’re right, tonight isn’t about me. I’m sorry.” He looked at the club who was moving away from the hoops game and was spreading out again. You noticed that it was Lucas who they had been cheering for, Mike and Dustin were clapping him on the shoulder in congratulations. It was nice seeing the three hanging out together again.

“So you are interested in him” Steve said suddenly, looking at you with wide eyes. “That conversation was so dry I thought you weren’t actually interested.”

You glanced down at the obnoxiously colored carpet with mild embarrassment. “Steve, I’ll be frank with you-”

“Hi, Frank.”

That cut the tension and the two of you found yourself laughing- it wasn’t even funny but it was an inside joke that you two had shared over the past four months. It reminded you that despite how different you two were, he was still your friend.

“Shut the actual fuck up, Harrington.” you laughed. “I’m serious.”

“I thought you were Frank.”

“Shut up.” you gasped out. It really was not funny and yet the two of you couldn’t stop laughing. You two must have looked like idiots to anyone who was passing by you, and you were. You were both idiots.

When the laughter finally subsided, you looked over at Steve. “Steve, I think he’s attractive.”

“I do not see the appeal, but I still accept you have weird taste- don’t hit me again!” He lifted his hands as you raised your own.

You lowered your arm and looked around the arcade until your gaze fell on Eddie again.

"It's pissing me off because I swear I should know him, but I can't put my finger on it." You said as he put a quarter in a machine to play. "I mean, yeah we went to the same school but I feel like there's something else."

"I'm surprised you two didn't know each other." Steve said. "He's the freak of Hawkins and you're weird. Shouldn't you two have crossed paths before?"

"Maybe?" You shrugged. "I was oblivious in school. I only knew your name because being called 'the hair' is objectively funny."

"Ha ha. Super funny."

You kept Steve talking as you tried to figure out your next move. Him and Dustin had gone out of their way to try and introduce you to someone, and you didn't want to have those efforts wasted.

"That'll work" you said, interrupting whatever Steve was saying. You grabbed his hand and dragging him over to the air hockey table where Mike and Dustin were in the middle of an intense game.

You put two quarters down on the edge of the table as the puck whizzed by your fingers, hurdling towards Mike's goal. There was a loud and satisfying clack as Mike pushed it towards Dustin.

"I'm playing the winner." You said firmly.

Another satisfying clack echoed as Dustin pushed the puck back.

"I'll be more than happy to play you when I kick Mike's ass." Dustin said, not looking up.

"You're two points down, there's no way you're beating me!" Mike shot back with his words and puck.

"You've never beat me at air hockey before and I'm not letting you start now!"

You pulled your hands back from the edge of the table as the two friends trash talked each other. Steve moved to Dustin's side while you drifted closer to Mike, an unspoken rivalry brewing between the four of you.

Well, unspoken til you opened your mouth.

"Kick his ass, Mike." You said, watching as the puck shot back and forth between the boys.

"That's what I'm doing!" The gangly teen responded as the clack of the game echoed through the arcade.

Steve, shook his head. "I thought you said you had a plan?"

"My idea was I wanted to play air hockey." You said. "I never said it had anything to do with anything else."

Dustin looked up from the table as the puck shot through the goal on Mike's side, with a triumphant grin.

"See? I was going easy on you, Mike!" He said.

Mike groaned "You're still a point behind and I need a point to win." He said, setting the puck back out.

"I've beat you under worse conditions. Plus El isn't here to help you." Dustin shot back.

"She doesn't help!" Mike said defensively.

"Oh, and I am supposed to believe that the pink was just sent flying like that because you're so strong last time?"

"Yes! Exactly! Now shut up!" Mike said, giving Dustin a glare that clearly told him to shut up. You looked at Steve for clarification, but he was decidedly not looking at you.

Weird.

The game continued between the two boys, with you and Steve each cheering on your respective freshmen. Mike had the reach, but Dustin had the brain.

"Just give it up, Henderson- I'm gonna win and get that advantage in the next session." Whatever this rivalry was, you were now living for it. You had spent so long in a work-home-work rut, and this was way more entertaining than hearing about Steve's love life.

"Yeah? What are you gonna use it for? Another failed summoning spell?" Dustin laughed.

"It would have worked if it wasn't for Eddie's stupid rule about-"

"Stupid? Oh, I'm sure he'd love to hear more about your idea of how he should have let you cheat. HEY, EDDIE! MIKE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU."

Both you and Mike visibly tensed as Dustin yelled out for the whole arcade to hear. You gave Steve a panicked look that mirrored Mike's so perfectly that Steve had to laugh.

Backroom duty for a month.

Eddie appeared again, standing on the opposite side of the table of you and Steve, looking at his freshmen.

"Oh really? And what could Mike Wheeler want to speak to me about?" He asked.

You didn't miss the way his eyes glanced over to you and Steve for a split second. There was an air about him that you were trying to put your finger on. The best way would be to say that he was 'on'. Right now, he was in charge of his club, and he didn't seem excited that a former popular basketball player and a background character were crashing what was supposed to be his night out.

You were starting to regret this meetcute.

“Nothing!” Mike said, his voice cracking as he barely managed to block the puck from going into the goal. It was a tense game now, and it was clear that Dustin had put Mike into a disadvantage by bringing Eddie into this.

Steve made eye contact with you and gave you a shit eating grin. Oh no, no he wasn’t going to-

“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Steve waved and quickly made an exit.

Two months in the backrooms.Plus bathroom duty.

It was clear why he ditched you with the way Eddie’s eyes darted as he left. There was a hint of distrust, one that you couldn’t blame him for. The only way you could possibly get an in with this guy would be if Steve wasn’t there waving his popularity flag.

Eddie glanced back over to you for just a split second before turning back to Mike.

“You sure about that, Wheeler?” He asked, an amused edge in his voice. “Because Henderson over here seems to think you have something you wanna say to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say!” The panic in Mike’s voice was evident, and Dustin just barely missed getting into the goal. “Nothing! We’re all good here- shit”

The puck, which had been flying between the two teens so fast now you could hardly keep up, had been caught on Mike’s- Clacker? Paddle? (Did that thing even have a word?). It had been caught between that and the corner, sending the puck flying upwards and flying straight towards your face. By some miracle, you managed to catch it, clapping it between your hands before it made contact with your nose. It probably wouldn’t have hurt, but you still weren’t interested in finding out.

“Holy shit.” you said with a laugh as the three guys looked at you in surprise. Mike looked embarrassed, and Dustin looked impressed.

“Nice reflexes!” he laughed.

“Damn, Mike you almost killed me! I know you’re still pissed I wouldn’t let you rent an R rated movie, but assassination is a bit overkill, don’t you think?” you asked.

“Shit, sorry.” Mike said, reaching for the puck again. You pulled it back and shook your head.

“Final round, sudden death.” you said.

“Seriously?! He’s still a point behind me!” Mike protested.

“Nu-uh. Almost killing me loses you a point.”

“I think that’s gotta be up to Eddie.” Dustin pointed out. “I mean, he’s the one in charge tonight.”

Oh, right. Oops. For a second you had actually forgotten that you were the one crashing the party here and that you didn’t have the same sway over the kids when not at work or when Steve wasn’t here.

You looked up at the man in front of you, pushing away any nerves and bottling them up to deal with later or never. What the hell did you have to prove to him anyway? Nothing. God, you were so bad at this, Steve was going to have an aneurysm trying to help you kick start a love life.

“What say you, Eddie of Hellfire?” you asked, offering him the puck as an act of goodwill.

His hand reached out, taking it as he considered you. You held your ground and met his eyes, not daring to give him any reason you had anything against him.

Eddie’s eyes moved between Mike’s panicked face and Dustin’s eager one. It was so funny how the two had zero problems bullying Steve but they made damn sure not to piss Eddie off. Well, at least too much if Dustin’s shit-eating grin was anything to go by.

A large grim broke out on Eddie’s face as he held the puck over the center of the table.

“Sudden death it is.” He said, staring directly at you as the puck dropped on the table.

Next Chapter

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @ali-r3n , @mxchese, @josephquinncore , @gagasbee, @peaches-roses-sins , @witchwolflea , @vintagehellfire , @royale1803 , @cumslutforaemond ,@prestinalove , @browneyedgirly93 , @hellfiredarling @crocwork-clockodile

#nacht fic #wing man #eddie munson x reader

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 29 days ago

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Morning News with Asmi 14 Oct '24

OOPS I FORGOT TO MAKE A POST YESTERDAY AND SO I GUESS 13TH OCTOBER WILL REMAIN A MYSTERY FOREVER. AAAAAA. ANYWAY HI IT'S TECHNICALLY MORNING OF 15TH TODAY BUT IT'S TOO EARLY TO CARE IT'S 14TH IN TEXAS MMKAY.

1. HURRICANE UPDATE: PEOPLE ARE NOW SHIPPING THE TWO HURRICANES. THERE'S FANART BASED ON THE VAGUE FACE SHAPES THEY MADE?? EVERYTHING IS FINE.

2. I MANAGED TO SURVIVE A VERY SMALL BIT OF THE SPICIEST CHIP IN THE WORLD EVEN THOUGH MY FRIEND WHO LIKES SPICY FOOD ATE THE SAME SIZE TEENY BIT.

3. THE BIRD, REDDIT, FLEW BACK HOME TO ITS HUMANS ON SUNDAY?? ITS HUMANS WERE THE CONSTRUCTION WORKERS FOR THE PLOT NEXT DOOR? SO... THE BIRD JUST WANTED A GODDAMN NIGHT AWAY AS A HOLIDAY WHILE ITS HUMANS WERE SEARCHING FRANTICALLY FOR IT?? IM

4. MY FRIEND INTRODUCED ALIEN STAGE TO ME LAST NIGHT (YEAH THREE OF US JUST RANDOMLY HAD A SLEEPOVER ON A MONDAY EVENING ART SCHOOL IS FINE WE'RE FINE) AND AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH IVAN MY BELOVED AAAAAH SUA AAAAA MIZI (FOR OUR PRINTMAKING CLASS, THE FRIEND--THE SAME ONE WHO THOUGHT TUMBLR WAS DEAD--MADE FANART OF THEM) OH NAAAAAAY CLEMATISSS AAAA

5. NORTH KOREA IS ABOUT TO ATTACK SOUTH KOREA APPARENTLY?

6. SOMEONE NAMED DAVID ALABA HAD AN INJURY WHICH MIGHT AFFECT HIS CHANCES AS REAL MADRID. WHAT THE FUCK IS REAL MADRID? FOOTBALL? CAR RACING? BASKETBALL? YAHTZEE?

7. I FINALLY LEARNED HOW TO PLAY UNO AND I WON THE FIRST PROPER GAME I PLAYED AND IT WAS OF UNO FLIP IM A GENIUS

AND NOW FOR THE WEATHER AND I SWEAR I WILL NOT FORGET ANY CONTINENTS THIS TIME

1. Australia: Hot and stinky. Just like me. I didn't shower yesterday.

2. Asia: Wet. Water. Wet wet sploosh. But not the ao3 way.

3. North America: Hurricane gay porn season I guess.

4. South America: Cloudy with a chance of moqueca.

5. Antarctica: ...still green. I wonder why my brain said piss-coloured. Green isn't piss. I mean. Piss isn't green. It's too early for this.

6. Europe: COZ IT'S TOO COLD FOR YOU HERE AND NOW SO LET ME HOLD BOTH YOUR HANDS IN THE HOLES OF MY SWEATER

7. Africa: The sun peeks out uwu from clouds

AND THE ANSWERS TO SATURDAYS CROSSWORD:

1. Baby food that adults can be allergic to: Milk. Well. It's not an allergy, it's an intolerance. Which involves different biological processes and not being able to digest it rather than the body reacting to an allergen. Shhhh. I never claimed to be smart.

2. Makes shitty copper: El-Nair (thanks @arkytiorlecter for that wild ride)

3. A condition that causes strong reactions to panic and pain at certain sounds: Misophonia (ily mad thanks for educating me @falling-raine)

4. A decaying virtual room of insanity orgies from the 10's: Tumblr

5. With ____, anything is possible: BARBIE!

IM TOO LAZY TO MAKE A CROSSWORD SO INSTEAD HAVE THE LESBIANS I PAINTED FOR MY PRINT-MAKING (MY OC'S)

AND BANGALORE PALACE WHICH I VISITED ON SUNDAY:

I LOVE YOU FORGIVE ME FOR MY NEGLIGENCE HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY/NIGHT MAGGOTS OF MINE

#morning news #castle #lesbian art #hurricane milton #hurricane helene #weirdly specific but ok #asmi #maggots #what is even happening #tumblr

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musings-of-miss-j · 10 months ago

Text

no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part one: in which you, a genius graduate from the akademiya, are blackmailed recruited by the fatui

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: slowburn. slowburn so slow u have to squint to even see the damn flame, long asf, snarky reader bc i said so, reader has a sprinkle of social anxiety, reader is referred to as 'miss' but no pronouns, mostly fluff and crack, slightly suggestive, blackmail, i just really wanna interact with these self-important pricks making out is honestly optional

please inform me of any pronoun slips!!

status: ongoing, updates every thursday-saturday

series masterlist

word count: 4993

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Standing before the not at all imposing entrance of the Fatui Headquarters (even now you vividly remember complaining to Lisa about it as you packed; "Couldn't they have chosen a more creative name?") you began to ever so slightly doubt your choices. Fresh out of the Akademiya and ambitious as any foolish valedictorian, you'd snapped up the offer of continuing your diploma in Snezhnaya immediately. Or at least that’s what you told yourself rather than acknowledging the thinly-veiled threats in their letters. "It'll look fantastic on my resume," you'd remarked to Alhaitham, that arrogant sod of a professor, over a bottle of wine. He'd scoffed and taken it from you, downing a generous swig, before saying something along the lines of "I certainly think it'll be a relief to have you several hundred miles away from Sumeru, even if you're going to be an insufferable brat about it."

Absolute ass of a man, you thought fondly to yourself as you climbed the stone stairs up to the gates. Snow fell hard and fast and stubborn as Albedo when it came to the superiority of alchemy over all other areas of science, and by the time you'd hauled your luggage to the wrought iron gate your shoulders had a fresh dusting of white powder and the stairs had become really quite treacherous; you lost your footing twice. At the very least, the only witnesses to your humiliation were creatures of the night.

You paused on the top step to catch your breath. A scientific genius you may be, and yet your stamina left much to be desired; and damn was that a ridiculous number of stairs. Every puff of breath crystallised into a swirling cloud in front of you, and you suppressed a shiver as a cold gust of night air wormed through the openings of your coat. Craning your neck to survey the enormous building - perhaps "palace" would be a more accurate descriptor - you felt the full force of the Fatui's power. Which was definitely their goal. Hewn from black stone, most likely imported from Liyue, the tips of the towers disappearing into a clouded sky, the rare breed of albino ivy you'd researched in your second year crawling up every wall and windows with intricate stained glass patterns... Despite your resolute determination to remain unimpressed at most things in life, you had to admit the place was utterly stunning. You could practically hear Kaveh raving about it in your ear, though in your opinion the spikes atop the fences were a tad too much.

After another moment of sizing up the place and feeling very much like you were being watched, you pushed open the enormous gate. Frost from the metal stuck to your gloves, and it swung open with barely a whisper. You silently thanked whatever mechanic had been in charge of that as you stepped into the shadowed courtyard, which was about as welcoming as the stairs; completely deserted. Archons forbid anyone welcome a foreign student, and you trudged across the layer of snow towards the front door with your footsteps made an incredibly satisfying crunch as you walked. You marvelled at the snow for the millionth time since you'd arrived in Snezhnaya. It was hardly common in Sumeru, and while you knew you'd grow tired of it by the time your three-year study was over it was rather pleasant now, glittering and white and covering every surface; the whole country had a lovely consistency because of it. You ridiculous perfectionist, Dehya snickered from the recesses of your mind.

The front door was also enormous (surprise, surprise) and you had to tiptoe to reach the metal knocker. Fashioned to look like a roaring leopard (a snow leopard, you'd wager) it made a very authoritative and disproportionately loud sound when released. Superposition, your brain helpfully supplied as you stood on the doorstep, determined not to let the biting cold get to you. You tightened your gloves and checked the inner pocket of your coat for your identification paperwork and tidy stack of mora, debating the merits of knocking again. The middle of the night wasn't a forgiving time, and the building (headquarters, palace, whatever) was growing less and less interesting the more you had to stare at it. Just as you'd begun glaring at the door and mentally cursing the name of every Fatuus you could think of, it swung open to reveal a luxurious interior. You kicked the snow of your boots before stepping inside, immeasurably grateful for the rush of warmth the crackling fireplace provided. The main hall of the building was every bit as grand as the outside, with a thick, midnight blue rug and stone walls carved into beautiful designs and inlaid with silver. No doubt that it had warming properties.

Mildly apprehensive, you took a step further into the hall. The door, very unhelpfully, slammed shut behind you and much to your chagrin, you jumped a little at the bang. You shot the closed door a glare before setting your bags down and casting another glance throughout the room. Beautiful and empty. Damn it.

The urge to call out was certainly strong, but your voice would definitely echo and bounce off the walls and ridiculously high ceiling. Hardly a graceful way to begin your career with the Fatui. Instead, you tugged off one of your gloves with your teeth and rootled through one of your many pockets for the most recent letter you'd received from them.

Your acceptance of our offer has been duly noted. We expect to see you on the aforementioned date at the Fatui Headquarters with the required paperwork to prove your identity, education and other important information. You will be received upon your arrival by Number Eleven.

May the Tsaritsa reign eternal.

Signed,

Director of the Fatui Harbingers

Pretentious and unhelpful as the first time you'd read it. You pocketed the letter with a sigh and collapsed into one of the armchairs scattered in front of the fireplace. Might as well make yourself at home in the place you’d all but been dragged to. The flames flickered and danced, and in your tired state you were utterly mesmerised. The armchair was so very comfortable, too. You ran your fingers absent-mindedly over the arm and decided it was most likely genuine leather, and busied yourself with trying to decide whether the rug was real fur so you wouldn’t fall asleep. With your luck, ‘Number Eleven’ would never show up and you’d be found like this in the morning. The thought was mortifying enough to make you sit bolt upright and discard your glasses to vigorously rub your eyes, before staring intently at the engravings scrawled across the walls.

Bits and pieces you could recognize as Snezhnayan script, and some others seemed to be vague and artful depictions of the Tsaritsa. A corner of your brain toyed with the idea of meeting her as you continued to survey the room. It was highly unlikely, of course, considering you were offered a research position to continue your diploma and nothing more, but the thought remained intriguing nonetheless. More so still when you considered the possibility of meeting her before the famous Traveller and selling whatever information you found to her at a rather outrageous price. You refrained from snorting aloud as the logical side of your brain tore itself away from trying to decide if the silver inlay of the walls was pure or a compound and very firmly reminded you that you had no business entertaining impossibilities.

With a faint grumble, you pulled out your pocket watch and scowled at its ornate and unwelcome face. Twelve minutes past midnight and the damned ‘Number Eleven’ still hadn’t deemed it fit to appear. You glared at the watch. It was a lovely little trinket, one you had horrifyingly spent all your first-year savings on during your time at the Akademiya; Alhaitham and Tighnari had taken great pleasure in pointing out what an irresponsible decision it had been, while Lisa applauded you for, and you quote, ‘finally letting loose a little and actually doing what you want!’ You stared at your reflection in the watch’s pearly face. You couldn’t help but miss Sumeru and your friends already, even though this was hardly the first time you travelled; Liyue had been a similar experience, but it had been so long ago that the sting was barely there. The watch ticked on, and you refocused to find that another two minutes had passed. You snapped it shut with no small measure of irritation before grabbing your bags and making your way to the staircase; if these Fatui were so bloody behind schedule or unorganised enough to have forgotten that a new recruit was meant to arrive then you certainly didn’t intend to wait until they sorted themselves out.

Ugh, I miss the Akademiya. At least no one was behind schedule there.

The blissful exasperation lasted you all the way to the top of the staircase, and then abruptly fizzled out when you found myself facing two diverging corridors. The thick carpeting muffled the sounds of your footsteps, and the walls here were adorned with veins of silver too. Windows with ornate black framework lined the walls, and a faintly glowing flower that looked reminiscent of the jasmines in Sumeru bloomed from the cracks in the stone. Wind buffeted relentlessly against the windows, howling and whistling and fluttering the flowers’ white petals while you stared down the two corridors and debated which one to take. They were lit with a silvery, almost liquid looking row of lanterns that were blatantly disregarding the laws of physics by floating in mid-air. You shot them a contemptuous glance. Magic was no cheap affair, and who knew how the morally questionable inhabitants of the palace were maintaining their pretty little lights? Your eyes paused on an arched doorway to the right. Servants’ quarters, perhaps? Hauling yourbags back over your shoulder (Jean had been right yet again. You were regretting bringing so many books) you stepped towards the door and knocked as quietly as you could. The noise echoed smugly across the stone walls despite your best efforts, and you glowered resentfully at the door. A scuffling sound came from inside, and the door was thrown open with what you considered an unnecessary amount of force; it seemed like they were out to frazzle your nerves, and you jumped as the wood banged against the wall.

A lanky young man who couldn’t have been much older than you stood in the doorway, dressed in what you assumed was normally a very dapper grey suit that had been reduced to a pitiful array of wrinkles and what you hoped was red wine on the cuff rather than blood. After carefully letting your eyes sweep across the Hydro Vision without any reaction, you looked up and met a pair of unsettling blue eyes rimmed with dark circles that could even rival yours or Layla’s. A sleep deprived and possibly homicidal Vision holder. Joy. And now he’s smirking. The hell is he smirking at?

He continued to stare. Oh. They're... lovely.

“Hello,” you said, adopting what Mona called your “disinterested and politely sarcastic business voice.” He had the audacity to smirk even wider and lean against the doorway, as if you were somehow amusing. Resisting the urge to bristle and whack him in the face, you continued. “I arrived here around”- you took out your watch –“Seventeen minutes ago and I’m rather lost. Could you perhaps help me if you’re familiar with the layout of the building?”

He just stood there, arms folded and eyebrows raised slightly, looking overall much too smug for someone who was wearing a stained suit and clearly hadn’t brushed their hair in several days. Their shockingly ginger hair. He was probably called ‘carrot-top’ as a kid, and you bit back your own smirk at the thought. Your non-existent patience rapidly dwindled, and you wished for invulnerability so you could snap at this smug overgrown brat. It wouldn’t do to offend anyone now no matter how tempting the prospect seemed, that was for sure; even the offer of a position here had seemed more like a threat than anything else and you weren't keen on receiving any legitimate ones now that you’d arrived in Fatui territory.

Several uncomfortable moments passed, with the man looking at you like you were an interesting exhibition in a museum and you looking back with what you hoped was a well-restrained expression completely devoid of Archons I’d love to punch you right now.

“Well then. Thank you for your time, sir,” you said, breaking the silence with a dose of sarcasm that definitely left behind the entire concept of politeness and veered dangerously into ‘you seem to be quite the idiot and you refuse to spend a moment longer in your company’ zones. “I recommend a mint extract to sleep off the hangover,” you added drily with a meaningful glance at the crimson stain on his cuff.

His eyebrows (even they were ginger) rose a fraction of an inch higher, and he laughed. Once again, you resisted the urge to scowl, picking up your bags and preparing to leave this foolish drunkard loitering in the corridor.

“Ah, no, don’t leave,” he said between chuckles, pushing himself off the doorway and stepping closer. He even had the gall to take one of your bags, but at least his voice wasn’t slurring.

“I’m ever so glad you’ve finally deemed this situation worthy of verbal exchange,” you said, still firmly in the Fuck you, asshole tone of voice. It seemed to just further his amusement, and he grinned at you as he hoisted your bag over his shoulder.

“Comrade, don’t be upset,” he replied, still grinning as he closed the little door behind him and gestured at you to follow him down the left corridor. A quick run through of the facts confirmed that following this ginger idiot was likely your best option, and you strode after him. “I was just having a little fun, that’s all.”

“Right, at my expense,” you muttered under your breath, lengthening your stride to keep up with him. The flurries of snow outside the windows became white blurs in the corner of your vision. “May you ask who you are, good sir?”

“No need for the fancy titles,” he said in that same infuriatingly easy-going tone. You’d gotten the impression that he took nothing seriously, and it only solidified the longer you walked with him down this corridor.

“Just call me Childe.” He shot you another one of those cheerful grins over his shoulder as he led you through the palace, which still seemed utterly deserted besides the two of you. Realisation hit as you processed his words.

“Oh, I see. You’re the ‘Number Eleven’ I’d been waiting for downstairs.”

“Perceptive of you, comrade.” You noted that he hadn’t bothered to ask for your name. Quite likely he already knew who you were, if the Fatui network was as well-informed as you’d heard. “You must forgive my oversight,” he added with a wink, of all things. “I found myself rather… shall we say entangled in some night time affairs.”

The implication wasn’t lost on you, and you carefully kept your face impassive as he watched intently for a reaction. Ah. A court jester is what this fool is.

“I’m certain you won’t repeat it. You seem like a professional,” you replied drily, following him down a narrow flight of stairs.

“I can’t say I can make any promises,” he shot back, smug and cheerful as a bloody- as a bloody Harbinger. At least the sarcasm wasn’t completely lost on him.

You settled for mentally calling him a spineless sod rather than retorting.

“I trust you’re well aware of the reason for my presence here?” you prodded, slipping on an uneven step and hoping he’d trip over his own feet.

“You wound me with your assumptions,” he replied in a mock hurt tone. “It's almost as if you’ve already decided I’m totally useless.”

You refused to dignify that with a response, instead staring at him pointedly until he relented. “Oh, alright, alright.” He sighed, making a wide, dismissive gesture in the air with his gloved hand. “You’re the new lab rat, right?”

“I am stunned by your eloquence,” you muttered. He chuckled, dashing any hopes you’d had that he wouldn’t hear. “But despite your crude description, I suppose it’s apt enough. I am here to continue my studies, yes.” At this point you couldn’t see the merit in continuing to be polite, not after his blatant admission of sleeping around on the job. You resolved not to take him seriously unless you absolutely had to.

“Archons, do all you scholars talk like that?” He remarked absent-mindedly to himself, pausing in front of what looked to be a long stretch of… wall. “Dottore does it too. It's strange.”

You knew ‘Dottore’ as Number Two of the Harbingers, but more primarily as the infamous Akademiya outcast who’d been exiled for the atrocious malpractice in his experiments. Irony of ironies, that you’d spent four years being warned against going down his path and now you were kicking off your career by working with him.

Childe, amidst your pondering, had begun to methodically trace an assortment of Snezhnayan letters within the silver engraving with his finger. They glowed blue, and a cursory glance at his Vision proved that he was using elemental power. Probably to break a seal of some sort. You watched him intently, discreetly noting the order of the letters down in a notebook. It didn’t pay to be uninformed, after all.

As he lifted his finger off the last letter, the wall slid and neatly tucked itself away to reveal what seemed to be a meeting room. A long table ran along the centre, with towering windows displaying the distant mountain. You spared the view a wistful glance; what with the thick clouds and relentless snow, the stars were blocked out entirely, and though the rolling expanse of glittering white was beautiful you knew you’d miss seeing the constellations through the gaps of the rainforest’s leaves.

The room was empty except for a single one of the velvet-cushioned chairs, where a striking woman clad in a jewelled white gown that looked impossible to pull off in this freezing weather lounged. She barely spared Childe a disinterested look before turning her eyes on you, and you were immediately nervous under the crushing weight of her gaze. One half of her face was obscured by an elaborate black mask, and you couldn’t help but feel thankful for it. Even with only one of her eyes trained on you, it still took an effort not to fidget and pick at your clothes or hair, and maintaining eye contact proved harder still.

What is it with the Fatui and uncomfortable silences? you thought desperately as you fought not to look away, the rushing wind, crackling fire and distant howls of wolves pressing against your ears as the silence and the woman’s gaze persisted with unwavering intensity. Childe watched with unbridled delight, clearly amused by the whole affair. Asshat.

Though the quiet smothered the room, you refused to break it. This was clearly an intimidation tactic, and though you had to admit it was rather effective you were even more reluctant to let it show; being the first to speak would be handing this fascinating, fearsome woman a measure of power you wouldn’t be able to take back. And so you met her stare with as much dignity as you could muster, trying not to appear defiant or rude. Which you discovered was a delicate balance that was ridiculously difficult to maintain.

When she spoke, her voice crawled through the gaps in the blanket of silence and lingered in your ears like clinging smoke.

“So. You’re the new recruit, are you?” She was impressed by your composure, not that she was willing to show it.

She crossed one leg over the other, regarding you with curiosity rather than outright hostility. You bit back a sigh of relief and bowed your head ever so slightly. Respectful, but not timid, you told yourself.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s right. I thank you once again for this opportunity.”

She pursed her lips, withholding an endeared smile. What a stunning shade of red.

“Hm. You see you’ve met Childe, our Number Eleven,” she remarked, adjusting the red and black cloak on her shoulders. “He’s quite the idiot, don’t you think?”

You swallowed. An elegant trick question; if you agreed you’d be disrespecting one of the Harbingers, but if you denied her claim you’d be throwing in your lot with Childe, a course of action you were determined not to take. This woman was clearly more influential than him either way. He watched you with a grin that was growing annoyingly familiar, as though he was privy to some joke happening at your expense, as though everything existed solely for his entertainment. You’d yet to decide whether he was a sadist or just incredibly immature.

“I’d prefer not to impart judgement so hastily, ma’am,” you replied with the barest touch of humour. Make it seem like you’re part of the collective joke. “I had the honour of meeting him barely”- you pulled out yourwatch –“Twenty four minutes ago.”

She rewarded you with a dazzling and thoroughly terrifying smile for your careful answer. As clever as their reputation paints them, she thought.

“I see Pierro’s judgement is still sound even though he’s an old bat by now.” This she directed mostly at Childe, and they shared a private chuckle over the matter.

Pierro… their superior, no doubt.

“Welcome, dear,” she said to you, getting up from the chair. Even that action she carried out with flawless elegance, moving towards you as though the air itself could never have the audacity to pose any resistance to her. She stopped barely half a foot away from you, close enough for you to discern the remarkable craftsmanship of her mask, black glass and lace swirling in elaborate patterns and settling over her face like a second skin. She grabbed your chin in her hands, and you felt yourself flush at the scrutiny as she tilted your face towards the faint light of one of the floating lanterns. No doubt she saw your wavering composure, if the smile on her face was any indication.

“I am La Signora, Eighth of the Harbingers.”

Ah, no wonder she’s so self-assured and elegant.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am.”

Her smile widened slightly.

“You’re very meek, dear. It doesn’t pay to be so docile in this line of work, you know.”

You flushed a deeper shade of red. Both Childe and Signora latched onto the change in your demeanour, discreetly revelling in your adorable flustered expression. It was a calculated statement, crafted to make you question yourself and second-guess your attitude. The Eighth Harbinger was clearly a puppeteer, pulling strings and jerking limbs with her seemingly harmless words, and it irked you to think that this striking, frightening woman would try to make you dance for her. You could feel Childe’s gaze boring into the side of your face as well as La Signora’s, and the retort on the tip of your tongue escaped before you could stop yourself.

“Does that mean we’re on a first name basis?”

Childe laughed, and you glimpsed him folding his long limbs into one of the chairs by the fire to watch the situation unfold. La Signora herself raised a perfect eyebrow and let her hand drop from your chin, surveying you thoughtfully. You were seized by the bizarre urge to cover up even though you were fully clothed.

“Ah,” she said softly. “You have quite the tongue on you after all, little one. Perhaps you shouldn’t bite it so often, hm? I’d hate to see your teeth be stained with blood.” Your poise certainly impressed them both, but your cutting wit was simply delightful.

Oh, she’s good, you thought.

You offered her a smile tinged with irony. “Of course, ma’am.”

Seeming to grow bored of swatting at your nerves with her perfectly manicured claws, she turned to Childe.

“Show the young recruit to their quarters, Eleventh. Without dallying,” she added with a meaningful glance between you. You would’ve been indignant at her insinuation if you weren't in a daze from her piercing questions and barbed remarks. She swept past you, trailing her cloak behind her, perfume lingering even as she disappeared from the room. Dark and smoky.

You breathed a sigh of relief as her footsteps faded, and Childe turned his attention back to you from where he was sprawled in the chair. It must be a bother, having such long limbs that need to be arranged like that just to fit in a normal chair.

“You’re part of the family proper, now,” he told you cheerfully, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Mama Signora put you through the wringer and you survived. Really, congratulations are in order, Trixy.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

“That isn’t my name,” you pointed out, taking off your glasses to rub your eyes. Exhaustion from the journey and the Harbingers was starting to rapidly set in, and you longed for a bed. And for Lisa and Dehya and Sucrose and Mona with a bottle of wine so you could complain about the situation to them.

“Well, you’re one of us now,” he replied, rising from the chair in a single, fluid motion that was oddly alien. “You need a code name!”

Archons alive, is he trying to get me to argue with him? Probably.

“Before we address your entitlement for thinking you can choose a name for me, code or otherwise, let’s discuss the fact that I’m not a Harbinger, shall we?” You leaned your back against the wall, replacing your glasses so you could shoot him a pointed look. He just grinned smugly in return, his eyes crinkling with the secret little joke he had with himself. You really were so sharp, he thought. Like the edge of a blade he longed to wield.

“Says who?” He countered, winking. You raised your eyebrows, unimpressed at his attempt to throw you off.

“Show me to the quarters, would you?”

“Look at you, bossing me around even though you’re ‘not a Harbinger’! Don’t forget, Trixy, even if you do become one you’ll still outrank you by a mile.”

“I'm quite certain you could usurp you with relative ease,” you countered, enjoying the back and forth despite yourself. “You’re only Number Eleven, after all. And don’t call me that. It sounds like a juvenile nickname.”

He chuckled, making his way back to the door. Or the sliding wall, you suppose.

“I thought it was pretty fitting. You definitely have more tricks up your sleeve than you let on, charming Signora like that.”

You frowned, contemplating the exchange you’d had with her as you followed him out, dragging your bag while he carried the other.

“I hardly think that qualified as charming even by the most dubious of standards.”

He turned back to face and grabbed your bag, hoisting it over his shoulder with an ease that left you apprehensive. Clearly he had the raw physical strength to boast of. He continued up the stairs, seemingly unencumbered by your atrocious luggage and you took two steps at a time to keep up with him and his unfairly long legs.

“Ah, you just don’t know her well enough to judge. Trust me, she was pretty impressed.”

“I’m afraid you lost my attention the moment you told me to trust you.”

“Come on, Trixy!” He shot the grin you were coming to think of as his trademark, wide and boisterous and faintly insincere, but good-natured nonetheless. “You can’t hate me forever, you know. You’re gonna be here for a while, and you’ll find yourself liking me eventually.”

“Ah, yes. Stockholm Syndrome,” you deadpanned, hurrying up the last flight of stairs and onto an unfamiliar landing, nearly bumping into his back. He just laughed and walked onwards down the long corridor.He’d win you over, eventually. He led you past rows and rows of identical doors, each one numbered in silver and outlined with what you presumed to be protective spells and then stopped in front of number twenty five.

A good, solid number, you thought to yourself with an air of satisfaction, stepping into the room after him. He dumped your bags unceremoniously onto the rug in front of the fireplace (you prayed the protection charm Xiao had given you would prevent your glassware from shattering) and with one final smirk and a sing-song “Nighty night, Trixy” Childe tossed you the key to the room and disappeared.

The room – your room – radiated comfort. From the blankets piled onto the bed to the glowing jasmines flowering along the cracks of the window to the buttery leather armchair by the fireplace, the whole place was lovely. Too lovely, in fact, for a mere recruit, and suspicion reared its head. The room had been Childe’s, unbeknownst to you. and he sneakily made you its new tenant. You checked beneath the rug and the wonderful, sturdy desk by the window, and poked along the top edges of the bookcase and shook out the blankets, but nothing seemed out of order. Which only served to further your suspicion, though you didn’t have any clue what could be hidden. A bomb? Ridiculous, the Fatui wouldn’t risk damaging their headquarters to eliminate someone with no power. A kamera? impossible to hide unless it’s on the walls or ceiling. You decided you didn’t care very much. The likelihood of assassination was incredibly low, you reasoned as you stripped off your coat and settled into the bed, wrapping the blankets tightly around yourself to stave off the cold.

You estimate that you fell asleep less than two minutes later.

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lettersfromaphrodite · 1 year ago

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[3.42]

― pairing : Yunho x Fem! Reader ― genre : fluff + smut ― content warnings: grease! au - therefore it's the 50's, Yunho smokes weed and has a motorbike, mentions of a car accident but it’s superficial and no one of the main characters is involved, thigh riding, unprotected sex, idk how to describe it?? acrobatic sex??? idk you’ll read it, kinkshaming will not be allowed, inspo for that came from an italian song' MV ― word count : 7.830

― notes : this fic looks familiar?it is! I’m reposting ALL my works on this brand new blog and therefore please, bear with me! as always, askbox is always open and feedbacks are always welcome 💌

«I swear, if I hear that song another time, I’m gonna scream bloody murder.» you addressed your colleague with an annoyed groan as you both were busy cleaning one of the now empty tables of the Frosty Palace, the local diner where you worked. She sighed in silent agreement, both of you wondering why your boss decided to let customers choose what to play from the jukebox even during Saturday nights, when the diner was really busy and crowded with people.

«Here comes trouble,» she announced with an amused smile on her face, as she took the plates you were busy balancing on your forearm, before nodding towards a group of guys which just arrived, busy taking their seats. «they’re all yours.» she chanted, quickly leading back into the kitchen with an amused smile.

«That traitor.» you mumbled, before taking your small notebook from your apron’s pocket and taking a deep sigh. Of course you perfectly knew the loud group that just arrived, since you’ve had a crush on Seonghwa since you could remember. His dark and mysterious aura always charmed you, and you could not help but to grow interested in him.

However, your mother’s advice not to get involved with bad guys always resonated in your head anytime you caught a glimpse of them and their leather jacket or motorbikes, and therefore, you’ve never tried to approach any of them beside work related matters. Their table was incredibly loud but also incredibly polite to you, and if you were to be honest, they probably were the best and most polite customers of the entire evening. Your only interaction with Seonghwa consisted of your eyes briefly meeting, before eventually, you went back to your previous working hurried pace. Low-key, you were glad that you couldn’t stay at their table for more than the essential time needed to take their orders, because you knew that you probably looked like a mess: you’ve been working for nine hours straight, your hair was a mess – even if tied up in a ponytail, and you were sure you had bags under your eyes due to how tired you were. You just wanted to go home and sleep.

«Are you coming to Jisung’s party?» your colleague – and friend, asked you, handing you a glass of water as you were both spending your first shift break leaning against the counter – few steps away from Seonghwa’s table. You quickly hummed, shaking your head while swallowing the water, silently wondering if that was how god’s nectar tasted like.

«When is it? I’ll probably have to work.» you asked her, unaware that your small talk had caught the attention of both the boy you had a crush on and one of his friends’.

«Next Friday!» she enthusiastically said, her eyes glancing at the diner’s entrance door every now and then in order to check up if some new customers arrived, while yours kept glancing across the room, to see if anyone needed anything else. «Please, come with me! I promise I’ll cover your shifts anytime you want!» she quickly added, as if she managed to read in your mind the fact that you were once again about to say no.

Perhaps, you agreed because you were extremely tired. Perhaps, you agreed because as your eyes were quickly scanning the room, you shortly locked your gaze with the boy with faded pink hair that was casually sitting next to Seonghwa, with his back leaned against the wall and his black leather jacket draped over his wide shoulders as he uninterestedly rolled a cigarette while occasionally glancing at you.

«Don’t look at their table, but,» you lowered the tone of your voice, getting closer to your friend and pretending she had something in her hair. «who’s the one sitting next to Seonghwa?» «Yunho.» she immediately whispered back, without blinking or thinking about it. Then, with a surprised gasp, she simply stared at you with wide amused eyes and her mouth slightly open, the sudden action making you giggle. «I can’t believe you’re not asking about Seonghwa!» she whispered, and just like that, new customers arrived and both of you went immediately back to work.

Seonghwa and his friends left around midnight, and as you were cleaning their table, the bright green bill neatly placed under Yunho’s coaster caught your attention; your eyes widened slightly and you immediately looked around just in case it was a joke, but nothing seemed out of place. You folded the banknote, placing it in your apron’s pocket, and as you were collecting the dishes, you saw Seonghwa and his friends talking right outside the diner’s windows, illuminated by the street lamps.

Surprisingly enough, instead of focusing on Seonghwa, your eyes were curiously looking at Yunho, the tall boy that earlier was looking at you; he was quietly chuckling at something his friends said while casually sitting on top of his motorbike, the cigarette he previously rolled was carefully balanced between his lips as he looked for a lighter in his leather jacket’s right pocket. You felt strangely hypnotized by the small action of him lighting up his cigarette before blowing out a puff of smoke while his head was thrown back, but you quickly snapped out of it as soon as one of your colleagues called your name, asking for help.

The walk back home was quick and mostly made by inertia, due to how tired you were feeling; you mindlessly unlocked the door and closed it with a yawn, before taking off your shoes and collapsing on the couch – since your bed was too far away. «Come on,» you weakly encouraged yourself, trying to ignore the numb feeling of exhaustion spreading from your legs all the way to your body. «take a shower and then go to sleep.» you mumbled, «In five minutes…» you were about to drift off, when Yunho’s piercing gaze flashed behind your closed eyelids; your eyes snapped open, and you immediately reached in the back pocked of your jeans, taking out the 10 bucks tip.

A small smile unexpectedly made way on your lips, wondering if he left the tip because he saw you working your ass off or because he had other reasons to do so. Funny how a banknote helped waking you up, but you placed it on the coffee table in front of your couch, and headed towards the shower.

Of course, your colleague knew about your crush on Seonghwa and of course, she wouldn’t shut up about Yunho for the most part of the week.

«I can’t blame you,» she said, cleaning the counter as you were about to close the diner. «He’s hot. And he seems so strong, I bet he can fuck you against-» your colleague’s – and friend, words were immediately stopped by your hand on her mouth, reducing the remaining of her sentence into an inaudible mess of muffled words.

«Not a word, or I won’t come to the party.» you said, blushing about the intrusive thoughts that thanks to her, were now vivid and oh, so realistic in your head.

«Are you a virgin?» she whispered, even if no one else beside the two of you were in there; you shook your head, explaining her that beside your first boyfriend in high school, you’ve never had any other experience, nor romantically, nor sexually.

«I just completely focused on studying, and now here I am: the best waitress in town.» you joked with a sad smile, mentally going through all the future life plans you had which you eventually had to reconsider, and she immediately let go of the glass she was cleaning in order to walk towards you.

«Come on!» she cooed, «It’s the 50’s, love. Fall in love, live a little.» she smiled, her slim arms snaking around your waist.

«It’s not like-» as you were about to retort that you weren’t that interested in romance since all you managed to have crushes on were obviously bad boys who carried a concerning amount of red flags everywhere they went, she was quick to silence you, once again.

«I bet we’re gonna have fun, trust me, I’m the expert here.» she winked at you, and you nodded with an amused, exasperated sigh.

Jisung’s party was chaotic, and you deduced that it couldn’t be otherwise since he was the most popular and richest kid in town; he spent the evening next to his girlfriend, and you wondered if you would ever be as lucky as her since, judging by Jisung’s looks, he seemed pretty much head over heels for her.

An elbow delicately nudging against yours quickly made you turn your attention back to your friend, which had her head tilted towards the backdoor and she was pointing towards it with her eyes; she looked quite funny, but as soon as you saw what she was desperately trying to point at, you felt your knees go weak.

Seonghwa was standing with his friends, looking as good as always but once again, you felt your eyes naturally drift towards Yunho’s figure, casually leaning against the wall with a red plastic cup probably filled with punch as he was talking with one of his friends – a little shorter with raven black hair. You honestly tried to prevent your eyes from scanning his body from his chest, to his long legs - which looked sinful in high waisted skinny jeans, and as your gazes met, you quickly looked away as quickly as a wild flame has just burnt you. You felt a blush creeping on your cheeks, your heart picking up speed in embarrassment by the fact that Yunho had basically caught you ogling at him, but also secretly turned on by the sudden smirk that he had plastered on his face.

From there, the night went by rather quickly. Surprisingly enough, you managed to have fun, even if it was probably thanks to the few cups of alcohol you drank during the night; you were tipsy – drunk enough to laugh about almost everything but sober enough to still stand without falling on your face, and so that’s how you found yourself in Jisung’s wide garden, sitting next to your friend, listening to two random boys blabbering and flirting with the two of you.

Despite the fact that you were sitting in front of your friend’s crush with the promise of somehow help her out, you never tried to hide the fact that you were absolutely uninterested in his friend’s obnoxious advances, and your eyes kept glancing at Yunho, which much to your shame, caught you the most of times.

Yunho was incredibly beautiful, and he absolutely had no reason to affect you like that; especially, he had absolutely no reason to look so hot as his lips closed on the filter of the joint that him and his friends were passing around. As they were laughing together, you figured that you probably would have wanted to try it, too.

«It’s your turn.» the boy in front of you said, and your eyes immediately fell on the joint that he was carefully handing to you, the filter pointed towards you and the smell of weed invading your nostrils. You politely shook your head, refusing the offer, aware that there was only one particular person that you wanted to try smoking weed with.

You knew Yunho was approaching you, even if you were not looking at him anymore. You could feel his gaze on you since the moment you excused yourself from the conversation you were having with your friend, and all you could feel was anticipation. If you were to be honest, you didn’t do it in order to get his attention – not entirely, but you really needed a break from hearing your friend and her crush flirting with each other and his friend obnoxiously trying his luck with you; so this is why you walked past Yunho and his friends heading to the backyard, where a significant less number of people were chatting.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, your back and your head delicately pressed against the wall as you waited; you waited both for your incoming headache not to ruin the little party time you had left, and both for something – anything, to happen right before you had to go back home. Your silent wishes must have been heard from some kind of celestial entity, since few minutes later, Yunho was casually standing in front of you, one hand placed on the wall next to your head, and the other still holding what remained of the joint that him and his friends were previously smoking.

«You’re not very subtle at stealing glances.» Yunho smirked, and you felt your knees go weak since it was the first time you were hearing his voice, and you definitely didn’t expect for it to be so deep and melodic.

«Maybe I didn’t want to be.» you answered, your voice coming out weaker than you wanted, and the alcohol mixed to the weed you breathed made you act a little bolder than you really were. Yunho’s smirk was all you could think about, the cologne he wore still managed to intoxicate your senses even if he was holding a joint between your bodies; everything you wanted was to kiss him, to feel his skin against yours even if deep down, you knew that boys like him inevitably lead to a heartbreak. Yunho looked like everything you were not, and at the same time, he looked like everything you wanted.

«So, angel face,» Yunho said, his voice a little bit deeper than before, he slowly raised the joint’s filter few centimetres in front of your lips, while his eyes hungrily and repeatedly glanced from your eyes to your lips, «do you want to try this,» he added, nodding to the joint before leaning a bit closer, so that your noses were almost touching and you could feel his soft breath against your skin as he spoke, «or do you want to try me?» your breath hitched at that final question and Yunho probably noticed but, being the gentleman he actually is, he settled for not saying anything and just wait for your answer, a smug smirk plastered on his lips as he made you feel almost naked under his gaze; you had to restrain yourself in order not to grab his leather jacket and close the small distance between you, and you wondered what was wrong with you.

“Am I really that drunk or am I just incredibly horny?” you thought, licking your lips and feeling almost suffocated by the tension that was surrounding both your bodies as the two of you were in your own small bubble.

«Mommy said boys like you are bad news.» you answered with a quiet mumble, knowing he would have heard nonetheless, thanks to the almost non-existent space between you.

«Oh, really?» Yunho cooed, tilting his head, action that you slightly mirrored in the opposite direction while waiting – hoping, for him to kiss you. «Why don’t you find out if that’s the truth?» you were about to kiss him, you desperately wanted to kiss him, to feel his lips against yours and for him to completely push you against the wall while making out and feel his body pressed flush against yours but of course, your friend had to unintentionally ruin the moment by calling for you, but despite your name being called, neither you nor Yunho looked away.

Yunho grabbed your chin in his hand in a gentle but firm action, the filter of the cigarette pressing against your cheek, and you swore your heart was about to climb its way out of your body as Yunho hinted the action of bringing your face closer to his, but eventually stopped as your lips were few millimetres apart.

«Feel free to come looking for me, when you have an answer.» he mumbled, and you were sure that your lips brushed against each other few times, the faint sensation lingering on your lips from the same moment when Yunho detached himself from you, winking at you while taking a step back and innocently smiling as if he wasn’t about to kiss you in the backyard of Han Jisung’s mansion during one of his parties. You walked towards your friend with a hammering heart, and occasionally touching your lips in order to quench the lust you were feeling; you spent your way back home wondering if you could get drunk on another person’s cologne, because all your senses were focused on the feeling of throbbing desire you felt towards Yunho.

Despite your efforts of avoiding thinking about the party and completely focus on work, you still found your thoughts wildly wandering towards that night every time you had a break. Although your friend kept encouraging you to go talk to him, you always said no, hiding yourself behind the most stupid excuses, hinting that obviously, someone like Yunho could never like - let alone desire, someone like you.

«I’m too inexperienced for him.» you told your friend, which simply scoffed, looking at you like you just randomly grew another head.

«I don’t even know where to start in order to explain how dumb that statement is.» she muttered, going back into the kitchen while she kept mumbling other unintelligible things.

The diner’s entrance bells rang loudly, echoing in the almost empty room on a Wednesday night, and you shortly panicked as soon as you recognized Yunho casually walking towards the counter. It was the first time you’ve seen him since the party, and you didn’t know both how to react and how to greet him; did you have to pretend nothing happened?

«Hi, angel.» Yunho’s endearing smile most definitely caused your heart to skip a beat, and you timidly greeted him back with a smile.

«Are you by yourself, tonight?» you dared to ask, in the attempt of making a small conversation as you were busy preparing his coffee while he sat directly behind you on one of the red leather stools in front of the counter.

«I am. Were you waiting for someone else?» even if you weren’t looking at him, you could hear the smug grin that was dancing on his lips; you immediately shook your head, your eyes locked on the coffee machine in front of you, and you heard Yunho hum, as if he was pleased with your answer.

Contrarily to your expectations, you and Yunho fell into a peaceful and relaxing small talk, and he also listened to you blabbering about how rude and unkind customers have been lately without complaining about you talking too much. Even if he had finished his coffee long ago, he settled for keeping the conversation going, finding you insanely entertaining and attractive to just walk away.

Gradually, you loosened yourself a bit, thanks to Yunho’s natural kindness and his way of talking which made you feel at ease; you slightly leaned on the counter while talking, as Yunho rolled a cigarette in the desperate attempt to keep his mind busy and prevent intrusive thoughts about all the ways he wanted to ruin you from popping up in his mind and suggest things you both might have regretted. As much as you thought that Yunho was a charming and interesting boy, he thought the same about you and so, for the first time in his life, he settled for making things right, following your pace.

«I guess you’re on closing shift,» Yunho said, licking along a stripe that would seal his cigarette, and you nodded as you were busy following the action. «Are you walking home by yourself?» «No, I’m-» «Yes! She is!» your friend immediately chimed in, and you suddenly remembered that you were not alone with Yunho, and she probably had to stand there and suffer from second hand embarrassment since who knows when. Yunho clearly understood that your friend cancelled on you last minute in order to leave the two of you alone and quietly chuckled at your small interaction, the cigarette he had previously rolled now placed behind his left ear. «I can walk you home, if you want.» he said, his gaze never faltering from yours.

Few hours later, you were both sitting on a bench at the now deserted skater park, the full moon watching over you as a pleasing spring breeze occasionally dishevelled both your hair.

«I still have to thank you for the tip you left me.» you said, focusing your attention on your hands, and Yunho simply shrugged.

Of course, the both of you engaged a conversation composed by the most infinite number of topics and of course, you ended up asking him about smoking and Yunho simply looked back at you, rising an eyebrow in surprise by the fact that the request escaped your lips out of nowhere, but also secretly pleased with the fact that you were not acting as if nothing happened few days earlier.

Yunho patiently taught you how to smoke without feeling like you were suffocating, occasionally rubbing your back as he waited for you to stop coughing.

«I can’t die like this, not before I get my monthly salary.» you cleared your voice, wiping the lone tear that escaped your eyes, and Yunho chuckled, his hand moving your hair from your face, so that now your neck was completely exposed to him, like a white canvas that he couldn’t wait to draw on. In order to stop coughing, you tried to focus about the fact that at this point, you and Yunho indirectly kissed through the filter of the cigarette, but it never really helped you, leaving you a bit flustered than you were before.

Somehow, you managed to learn the trick, and as you felt your body relaxing, you also felt becoming incredibly giggly; you knew that you were stupidly giggling at some jokes Yunho said while looking at him with rosy cheeks and a wide smile, but you couldn’t help yourself.

A large quantitative of praises towards Yunho were about to escape your lips but you managed to stop yourself just in time, losing yourself in the boy’s magnetic gaze which made you want more, aware that you wouldn’t even be able to quantify how much was that.

Once again, the thought about boys like him ending up breaking your heart popped up in your mind, but you ignored it.

“It’s the 50’s, love. Fall in love, live a little,” your friend had said, and you decided that, at least for tonight, you could have ignored the part of you which was always and only thinking about work.

Only when the bell tower signalled it was almost three in the morning, Yunho decided it was probably time to go back home.

«But we were having fun!» you whined, taking Yunho’s outstretched hand, which both helped you standing up but also pulled you flush against his body in a swift movement.

«Now,» Yunho smiled, and you had to beg your brain in order to stop the instinct that wanted for you to nuzzle against his chest and breathe in his alluring scent. «but you’re gonna hate me tomorrow, if you don’t get enough sleep.» even if you whined once again, you agreed with him and you both started to walk towards your apartment’s direction.

«Yes!» you giggled, quickly walking towards Yunho’s motorbike. «We’re gonna ride it?» you asked him, stopping next to his bike in order to tilt your head to look at him. Yunho thought that there was no way someone could look so cute after smoking weed for an hour, but yet, there you were, looking at him like you were the most innocent girl on the planet.

«No, angel face.» he said, affectionately ruffling your hair and making you pout. «I don’t have a spare helmet.»

«Next time?» you immediately asked, lifting your pinky finger in the air in an instinctive manner, and the hand which was furrowing your hair a moment earlier, was now lifting your chin while Yunho’s face came dangerously closer to yours.

«Are you sure that’s the only thing you’re gonna ride?» Yunho’s words seemed to spark the fuel that was smeared on your soul, since you were sure that the blush covering your cheeks could be seen from space. As you embarrassedly stuttered while coming up with an answer, Yunho laughed loudly – the sound making your heart do somersaults in your chest, while his long pinky finger gently intertwined with yours, sealing your promise. The both of you managed to arrive at your apartment while you kept giggling about the most random things, occasionally pouting about the fact that Yunho had been smoking too, but he completely seemed unaffected by it.

«Experience.» he simply answered as you unlocked your apartment’s door, immediately turning on the lights and heading for the couch while loudly calling for him to get in as well. Yunho followed you into your small living room, and sighed loudly at the sight of you laying down on the couch, with your arms thrown over your head while the shirt you were wearing was now showing part of your stomach.

«Yunho.» you called for him in a serious voice, quickly sitting up and waiting for him to crouch down between your legs while sitting on the coffee table. You quickly shook your head as he asked you if you weren’t feeling okay while he carefully brushed your hair out of your face, and you quietly gripped his jacket, looking at him in the eyes with the most serious expression you could muster. Yunho tilted his head, confused but your action but also intrigued about what you had up in your sleeve, when you definitely managed to surprise him another time.

«I’m so hungry.» you whispered as you were confessing a sin, and Yunho had to cover his mouth with his hand not to laugh too loudly. «But it’s almost four in the morning.»

«What do you want to eat?» Yunho asked back in a whisper, playing along, as if he was implying that your secrets were safe with him.

«I want a cheeseburger,» you smiled, counting on your fingers as you started to list a concerning amount of junk food, «and then, milk and cereal, and then…» Yunho let you finish while looking at you with an incredulous smile, before meticulously asking if you had any cereal in your house.

Less than five minutes later, you were happily munching to your night snack, trying to quench your chemical hunger. You didn’t expect for weed to have such a disastrous effect on you, but you managed to drift off – only after successfully feeding Yunho a couple of times, and eventually, hecarried you to your bedroom and left, not sure whether you’d like to see him first thing in the morning.

Later that night, you woke up with a headache and a bitter taste in your mouth; the fact that you were still wearing yesterday’s clothes was the proof that you did not have a fever dream and last night really happened. Your cheeks flared up in embarrassment, and you rubbed your temples before making up your mind and heading towards the kitchen to drink some water and have some breakfast.

“I made a fool out of myself,” you thought, completely sure that you’ve blown off all the chances you had to get to know him better, “He’ll never want to see me again.” As you mindlessly grabbed a bowl from your cupboard, you noticed a small yellow paper neatly placed on your kitchen table.

“Hope you slept well, call me.” the paper said, and unexpectedly, there was Yunho’s phone number.

The note with Yunho’s number written on it was carefully taped on your fridge, but you still didn’t call him; four days quickly went by, and you still couldn’t find enough courage to dial his phone number and talk to him. At this point, you had the sensation that, in the back of your mind, the small yellow paper started to lighten up anytime you walked in front of it, only to become more evident and making you feel even guiltier.

Yunho didn’t show up at the diner, and you took it as his personal way of letting you know that he was respecting your pace, a thing you were glad for.

An almost deafening noise of tires braking on the asphalt and a sudden crash noise made you immediately wake up clutching your chest in fear, sitting up straight in your bed as you tried to understand what just happened. Your heart was hammering in your chest due to the sudden fright, and you scanned the dark room in the desperate attempt to individuate any other noises which could help you identify what happened; as you walked to your bedroom’s window, you also heard the sound of multiple sirens approaching, and your eyes locked with the two cars that crashed against each other almost in front of your condominium. Both the police and an ambulance were quick to show up and take one of the two man back to the hospital, but even if the situation had calmed down and only the police remained with the other man to investigate the dynamics of the car crash, you couldn’t bring yourself to calm down. Work had been particularly busy those days, and the fact that you were stressed was undeniable.

Perhaps, you were too zoned out to realize what you were doing; perhaps, your brain acknowledged the fact that in that moment, there was only one voice that you wanted to hear in order to feel better.

Therefore, you turned on the lights of your apartment all the way to the kitchen in order to collect that yellow post-it and listen to your brain which, at the moment, was suggesting to do the best thing.

«Hello?» Yunho's raspy voice mumbled from the other line; for a split second, you wondered how cute he looked with his hair messy and pointing in every direction due to sleep.

«Hey.» you mumbled, your voice a little more unstable than you originally planned, wondering if he would have been able to recognize you, and wondering if he would have got angry at you, since you were basically calling him in the middle of the night.

As your eyes glanced to the clock nailed to the wall right on top of your landline, you mentally cursed yourself, since it was literally 3.42 in the morning.

«Hey, angel.» Yunho mumbled again, the sound now a little muffled since he was probably rubbing the palm of his hand on his face in order to somehow get rid of all remaining traces of sleep. «Did anything happen?»

Although you wanted to tell him the truth, that you were okay but a car crash woke you up and you just wanted to hear his voice, you didn't; you spent few more seconds in silence, wondering how could you phrase all the waves of emotions you were feeling.

«Can you come over?» you finally whispered, aware that for sure he didn't manage to hear you, for your voice was almost inaudible; you quickly cleared your voice, ready to repeat your sentence a little louder when Yunho's voice made you close your mouth once again.

«Okay,» you heard him sigh, «I'll be there.» Yunho hung up and still, you stood there, listening to the robotic and redundant sound of the other line being hung up, while staring at the wall as if it was the most entertaining thing ever.

Yunho arrived more or less twenty minutes after your call, the loud rumble of his motorbike announcing his arrival. «I don't know why, but they're not letting anyone in, unless they live here,» Yunho's groggy voice greeted you as he closed the front door behind himself. «If the police officers come and ask, we're living together.» As if you were in autopilot, you quickly walked towards him, snaking your arms around his waist and trying to calm yourself down with his presence. You knew you were acting like an idiot for being scared like that but you couldn't help yourself, the pent up stress made you overreact and you were glad that Yunho still decided to show up after you basically ghosted him because you decided to shy up and act like a coward.

«Come on, let's go back to sleep.» Yunho was taller than you, therefore he easily towered over your frame and so, as he gently hugged you close to his body while placing his chin on the top of your hand, you felt safe.

It was funny how you were standing in your apartment in the middle of the night, clinging to the stereotypical boy your mom always warned you about, as if he was the only way you had to feel better. Inexplicably, Yunho's strong arms made you feel like you wanted to build a home in there; like those wooden houses built on trees some little kids had, where they hid when they wanted to have their personal space and live safely in their own world for some time.

Secretly, you wished you could stop time in order to live this moment for eternity, but deep down, you couldn't help but wish for these moments to become your new, daily routine.

Obviously, you didn't know yet, but Yunho wanted pretty much the same as you did. In his eyes, in that very moment, you looked so small and helpless that he felt the desire of protecting you from everything.

Yunho hanged his leather jacket before the two of you eventually ended up cuddling on your bed, facing each other while laying on your sides; Yunho's right leg was slightly between yours while your left leg was resting over his thigh, your naked skin pressed against the rough fabric of Yunho's denim jeans while his fingertips gently caressed the expanse of your exposed thigh.

Before he arrived, you wondered if the perspective of sleeping with a boy while being so underdressed – a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, was the right choice but you didn't really want to change your pyjamas. Now, Yunho's warm hands made you want to completely feel his natural warm skin against yours.

«Thank you.» you whispered some time later, a faint and tranquil murmur into the comfortable silence you were sharing.

«It's okay, angel.» Yunho sighed, holding you a little closer to his chest. «Anytime you need me, you holler, and I'll appear.» his words were nothing but sweet, and of course, you believed him.

«Don't go away this time.» you mumbled right against Yunho's collarbone, your breath ticking the skin that the wide collar of his shirt exposed. Yunho's answer came in the form of kissing your forehead, and you slowly drifted off to sleep, lulled by the other's slow rhythmic breathing and the feeling of his warm body enveloping yours.

The sound of your alarm woke up the both of you in the middle of the morning. Yunho – now almost completely laying under you, groaned in protest before effortlessly turning the both of you around in a swift and quick movement.

«Five more minutes.» he whined, his voice unexpectedly deep and hoarse. As much as you wanted to chuckle since that action was incredibly cute, you stayed there, almost petrified, as Yunho was now laying with his head on your chest and his legs between yours; he manhandled you so easily you had to close your eyes in order not to give in to the sensation of the heat that was pooling into your panties and consequently to the thought of searching for relief on his firm thigh.

«Why is your heart beating so fast?» Yunho asked, rubbing his eyes as he propped himself on his elbow, now almost completely awake. If you thought that Yunho looked handsome on a daily basis, now you were completely sure that he just earned the status of "breathtaking": his lips were plump and rosy because of sleep, and his cheeks were painted by a faint blush, his hair were dishevelled and looked pretty much untameable. You were used to seeing him surrounded by the "bad boy" aura, you'd never expect to find him so cute you'd want to squish his cheeks.

«Do I make you nervous?» he asked, a mischievous grin on his lips as his cheek was now placed on the palm of his hand while he kept hovering above you. «Well, yes.» you admitted, your glance quickly drifting away from his. «You're... you.» at this point, not only you lost all the ability to think properly, but you were also sure that Yunho thought you were completely dumb.

However, he simply hummed, his long fingertips hovering above your lips which naturally parted; as you unconsciously licked your lips, the fact that Yunho was following the action didn't go unnoticed.

«You'd probably want to be careful, angel.» Yunho's voice made you imperceptibly close your legs around his thigh. «Just because I like you doesn't mean you should try your luck.» his fingers were now under your chin, the feeling of the cold ring he wore on his index finger making your head spin with different scenarios which ended up in the same sinful way. «Otherwise, I won't hold back.» Yunho's words were all it took for you to tangle your hand in the front of his shirt; you weren't pulling him closer nor away from you, you just needed another conformation that this was happening for real. Yunho just admitted he liked you, feeling which definitely was reciprocated; anticipation was clouding your senses, and Yunho prevented you from daydreaming any further by purposely tensing up the muscle of his thigh just to tease you, but it simply ended up in you trying to suppress a needy whine.

«Then don't.» your voice trembled as your eyes locked with his, happy and relieved about the fact that the lust and the passion you found there were matching yours.

«Remember, angel,» Yunho shook his head with an amused grin. «That you asked for it.» you didn't have time to question his words, since his lips immediately found yours in a needy, passionate kiss. You completely submitted to him; you didn't dare to try and take control, you didn't want to. All you wanted to do was to lose yourself on the feeling of Yunho's lips moulding with yours, his teeth nibbling your lower lip and his tongue moving with yours in a messy and passionate pace. You felt the mattress dip under his knee as he balanced his weight on his arms, action which made his thigh press a little more roughly against your heat; instinctively, you groaned, arching your back in the desperate attempt to press yourself even more against the rough fabric of his denim jeans.

That action wasn't nor casual, nor innocent, and you felt Yunho's smug smile against your lips, before he leaned down to kiss your jaw and eventually, leave a trail of kisses for as much as the collar of your shirt allowed. Your mind has already flown on cloud nine long ago; during these years you never really missed sexual contact nor you ever felt the need for a relationship but there was something unexplainable about Yunho's touch that made you feel like you wanted to make up for all the time you lost. And of course, you wanted to do it with him.

«Yunho,» your voice was somewhere in-between from a whine and a surprised squeal as his right hand roughly pulled your waist upwards and towards him; he simply hummed, lost in the feeling of enjoying all the reactions your sensitive body had.

Despite you were most definitely loving how good Yunho was making you feel, you felt the desire of making him feel good as well and so, your fingers gradually loosened from the grip they had on Yunho's hair and gradually lowered until the palm of your hand was completely placed on his half hard length. A wave of pride washed over you as he instinctively jerked his hips forward in your hand, burying for a moment his head in the crook of your neck with a loud groan – which worked wonders for the situation in your now completely wet panties.

«You'll have plenty of time to make me feel good,» Yunho eventually swatted your hand away, pinning it against the mattress. «Today is about you.» he added, proving his point by digging his knee against the mattress so that the friction between your legs would increase. Yunho's sentence somehow boosted your confidence and if his right hand were guiding the movement of your hips for a brief fraction of time, now it settled for hoisting your thigh a little higher, his nails sinking in your soft skin as you grinded against his thigh while your lips were occasionally moulding against each other. Your shorts now completely exposed your inner thighs and the sensation of the rough fabric of Yunho's jeans made your skin almost feel sore, but anytime he tensed the muscle of his thigh, you stopped thinking about it, since the sensation of your orgasm building up thanks to someone else and not your own fingers were all you could focus on.

Yunho, on the other hand, was focusing as much as he could in order not to come at the sight of you falling apart so rapidly under him and because of him. It would have been embarrassing for him to come untouched, but the way you were repeatedly whining against his lips while frantically gripping at his shirt or his hair just to anchor yourself at something made him want you even more.

Yunho's thoughts got interrupted by a sinful loud moan escaping your lips and your body tensing up before relaxing once again, collapsing on the bed with your eyes closed while you were trying to focus on slowing down your breath. As you came, your thighs squeezed Yunho's in a brief but tight hold, brushing against his length in the process, and Yunho was sure that precome was now staining his boxers.

Feeling your heart hammering in your chest for two completely different reasons, you reached out to peck Yunho's lips in a silent and affectionate “thank you”, and he smiled before repeating the gesture. «Are you sure you-» «Yes,» Yunho answered with a small nod. «I could use the bathroom, and then we could cook breakfast?» Yunho somehow answered in a questioning tone, unsure whether you wanted to spend more time with him. You simply nodded, checking the watch on your nightstand before giggling. «More like lunch.» «Brunch?» Yunho answered as, following your gaze, noticed what time it was.

«Just so you know,» Yunho casually addressed you, pointing at you with his index finger as he was still holding his glass of water. «I bought a spare helmet, so I might just let you ride with me.» You nodded, eagerly, happy that Yunho wasn't backing down on the pinky promise you made.

Few days later, you told everything to your friend, which had to stop drinking because she was somehow managing to squeal while doing so. «Yunho has never let anyone ride his bike,» she said in an excited voice, «not even his friends.»

Not only Yunho took you on an insane amount of dates but also, every time his work shifts allowed him to, he'd pick you up from work because he didn't want to let you walk back by yourself. Spending your free days together had become a habit and so, three months later, there was a little corner in your wardrobe only for Yunho's spare clothes. Yunho managed to make you feel the happiest girl in the world, to make you feel desired and loved, and the night Yunho confessed you that his feelings were the same as yours, you felt do happy you swore you could become the sun of a whole new solar system.

Yunho also confirmed your friend’s words: you were indeed the first one he ever let on his bike, and you both loved this privilege but most importantly, you loved to cling to his back to your heart’s contents and enjoyed the little forms of affections he still managed to show. Anytime you were waiting for the traffic lights to turn green once again, he’d mindlessly caress your leg, all the way from your ankle to your thigh; sometimes he’d just trace with his thumb over the top of your hands which were intertwined on his abdomen.

You never thought – probably not even in your wildest fantasies, that one day, you’d be sitting right in front of Yunho on top of his Harley Davidson – your back pressed against the fuel tank and your legs around his waist, as his length rhythmically disappeared inside you. Obviously, you never suspected he could hide some kinky meaning behind the sentence: “probably you’d be more comfortable wearing a skirt”, but still, there you were, trusting Yunho and letting him fuck you on top of his motorbike while both your helmets were safely placed on the floor and you had the perfect view of the sun setting in the sky due to being on a non particularly popular hill and therefore, completely alone.

«What if someone sees us?» you whined, the sensation of Yunho filling you up so perfectly and roughly – even if his pace was slow and teasing, momentarily clouding your senses and making you think that you probably wouldn’t have actually cared, not when you were so close to your release and Yunho looked like Apollo himself as the lights of the setting sun were dancing behind his back.

«Why, would you care?» Yunho asked back with a groan, a smug smile on his lips and his hands tightly gripping your waist under your high-waisted skirt; the chuckle you wanted to answer with died in your throat as he changed pace in the same moment you decided to sit up a little bit straighter, holding his shoulders to balance yourself. It was undoubtedly messy, and the fact that Yunho was strong enough to effortlessly fuck you in those circumstances made the warm sensation of an approaching orgasm pool even faster in your lower stomach.

Both you and Yunho managed to almost come together, between breathless chuckles – due to the fact that you were more than willing to try new things as long as you were together, strained moans and passionate kisses.

«My legs are numb.» you breathed, leaning once again your back on the fuel tank as Yunho was looking at you as you were a work of art, «I can’t get down.» you added, smiling before randomly erupting into a series of giggles, toying with the sleeves of Yunho’s leather jacket.

«That’s my favourite thing to hear, angel.» Yunho smiled at you with a mischievous wink as he was gently running his fingertips on the expanse of your thighs.

Yunho loved how willing you were to be bad for him, just as much as you loved how willing he was to be good for you.

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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#fanfics #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #yunho x reader #ateez scenarios #yunho scenarios #yunho fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez ff #ateez grease au #ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x y/n #yunho smut #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop smut

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c-rose2081 · 6 months ago

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Audrey doesn’t have children and she’s not interested in being a mom, but somehow she’s ended up with a bunch of teens in her apartment calling her ‘Mrs. Rose’ and asking her (or her husband) to take them to the mall on weekends. And, apparently, a bunch of seventeen year olds building a blanket fort in her living room for a movie night is more appealing than the school dorms, while an army arrives at the exact same time every Saturday night to take over her kitchen for pizza, throwing cash in a pile to help cover the cost.

“They’re Hadie’s friends, Chad. The Royal Palace is right there,” she complains, scrolling through a sales page dedicated to 12 person mini-busses. “Mal is Queen or whatever. Why am I the one doing this?”

“They want to get away from Royal life, not closer to it, love,” Chad tells her, leaning over her shoulder and pointing at a bus. “What about that one?”

“Not a good safety rating. Is a twelve seater enough?”

“I think so?” Chad counts on his fingers. “Chloe sees us more than she sees her parents, right?”

“Right. It’s all of Hadie’s VK friends: Him, Dina, Jace, Harry and Eddie. Then there’s Chloe and Ariana. That’s what…nine of us?”

“One more; Lexi usually comes with Chloe.”

“Ah, right, can’t forget Anxelin. Ten. Ten of us.” Audrey lands on a good choice and buys without a second thought. She sits back, turning to her husband wearily. He frowns back at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think we need a bigger house?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. A bigger garden would be nice.”

“A dedicated office?”

“A garage.”

“Extra guest rooms.”

“A pool.”

“A pool?” Audrey screws up her face. “Really, Chad?”

“Summertime gets hot you know, and the Enchanted Lake is always busy. And with eight teenagers?”

“Touché,” Audrey agrees, flipping open a tab to new real-estate. “Pool it is.”

#disney descendants #we the anti heroes #found family #audrey descendants #chad charming #chloe charming #princess ariana rose #hadie descendants #text post #world building #thinking thoughts

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popjunkie42 · 3 months ago

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Night Falling

For @officialrhysandweek 2024

Read on AO3

After the murder of his mother and sister by the Spring Court, Rhysand confronts his father, longing for punishment and absolution. Instead, the High Lord has a lesson for his youthful son.

Tags: Descriptions of violence, grief, toxic family relationships

I love you @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta read and support! I wrote this during some of the worst weeks at work ever so I hope the brain cells were there.

And I hope you like some Saturday afternoon angst!

Fic under the cut!

Broken.

Everything here was broken.

Shards of cracked and splintered black marble littered the great hall of the Moonstone Palace. Lines of white and gold like veins, the ground splintered like spiderwebs and covered in a layer of dust.

The Prince of Night sprawled against a chunk of marble twice his size, jagged and sharp. Rhysand panted with exhaustion. His head tipped back against the stone, tears making tracks through his dust-coated skin.

Too soon his body was recovering - his energy returning. He had torn the room apart in anger, in grief, begging for the oblivion of exhaustion.

The curse of his dark power - to never yet find the end of it.

Again, the memory and horror washed over him. A dark, endless play in his mind’s eye. Two heads, bloodied and disheveled, faces locked in fear staring up from floating baskets. Their skin the faded color of winter. Every act of cruelty and violence etched on their once beautiful faces.

He turned to the dust-laden floor and vomited.

It was black bile that burned as it came. Nothing left from whatever hours or days he had spent in this fog of grief.

Not just the pain of their absence - but the horror of the violence, the suffering that threatened to pull him under to some murky, vile place he feared he might never return from.

He should not have gone into the mind of the Illyrian patrols who found their heads floating in the river.

But he couldn’t not see. The same as he would never purge the image of their bodies found hours later - stiff and bloodied in the snow, stumps where proud wings had once flared.

The mountain trembled again beneath him.

Would his father let him tear it all apart?

Could he even stop himself?

Ever since he started rending the room into pieces, his power had been seeping like oil through the Moonstone Palace into the rock of the mountain - deeper and deeper until he felt its great cold roots in the earth. Gripped it with nervous tendrils of shadow. Ancient and powerful rock that he longed to pull from the ground like weeds only to tear apart in his hands. An act of primal destruction, like the forging of the earth.

He knew the Night Court was cast in darkness. No moon or stars or rising sun would penetrate the midnight shroud over their lands.

Perhaps it was cast over all of Prythian. Rhysand hoped it reached to Spring - that it wilted flowers and field, a dark portent to whatever fate awaited them.

Because await them it would. But not for long.

Amren had taught him to control his power, but not yet to see the full breadth of it. But he let his power leak, let it drip from him without a care.

The tiny beast hadn’t even come to see him.

Probably for the best. He had snarled at Cassian and Azriel as they found him in Windhaven - winnowing away with a whiff of sulfur, the rushing of air. Nothing in him was ready for their fallen faces, to watch the grief echo back and forth between them.

So he was selfish, leaving them to their own pain. Throwing up shields brimming with sharp starlight and cold winter night in jagged configurations around the Palace, to remain undisturbed.

Two faces again behind his eyelids - his sister’s eyes shut tight, face scrunched in pain. His mother’s - fearful and wide, facing the end with open eyes.

He wondered who they had killed first. Who had to watch the other die before their eyes, hope winking out.

Samara - the proud Illyrian Queen, young but fearless Lady of Night.

Amira - the shining star of the court, the only evidence of his father’s capacity for affection.

His family. His beating heart ripped from his chest. An immortal lifetime of possibility stolen from him forever.

And all his fault.

Whether he would have died with them or ripped the Spring brutes apart - he should have been there. Told them he would be there. Told Tamlin where they would be, before meeting him next week for training –

Tamlin.

He repeated their names in his mind. Cador the High Lord. Rian. Owen.

Tamlin.

The unfathomable betrayal. Or worse - the betrayal he had been warned about, his stupid, arrogant self ignoring his family and friends for the fierce training and tender passions of the third Prince of Spring.

Tamlin.

The name was burning poison in his mouth.

Rhysand let it burn, let it dissolve and corrode inside of him, joining in the heavy despair of his grief.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

He didn’t know how much time had passed in that silent tomb of a hall. As his power rose he tore it apart again, but without his initial vigor, sending stones clashing against each other, but without the taste for total destruction. Like a child playing with blocks, tired and plowing through their towers.

He knew it to be true: he could tear this palace, this mountain to pieces, cast the world into darkness.

But still, his father would not come to him.

He would not stoop so low, even to his grieving son.

When Rhys felt the heat of the sun burning against his blanket of deep twilight, he willed his muscles to move.

Feet carried him unconsciously, the walls of the palace passing before him without recognition as he walked down, down into the Hewn City, wards flickering to his blood and power.

Underground, black banners were already hanging from buildings and the windows of decadent manors. Voices wailed in the city center. Rhysand stuck to the shadows. What did these people ever care for his mother, his sweet sister, other than their fearful obedience?

He found his father in his grand bedroom behind the throne room, a pale attendant at his side.

Emrys had no crown on his sandy-colored head, shot with white around the temples, in the privacy of his chambers, but still power in the room thrummed with his command. His deep inset eyes, dark under his heavy brow, didn’t leave the sword he polished in his hands. Rhys stood uselessly in the door.

“Leave us.” The High Lord did not raise his voice, did not show any signs of sharing the raging grief of his son, disheveled and tear-stained, as he dismissed his servant.

Greased cloth glided over black metal, mottled and banded with swirling patterns like dripping water.

The room was grand and furnished lushly, all rich velvets and silks, the fireplace carved out of stone and large enough to roast a boar. During the day, sunlight streamed in from chiseled pathways and clever mirrors, even this deep into the rock.

But the comfort of the room was lost against the ebbing violence emanating off the High Lord. Sovereignty effortless and pervasive, as if at any moment he would exhale too loudly and blast the walls apart. He took no care now to cast any glamour, to temper himself. Like a glistening diamond uncovered in the rock. After eight hundred years, his son knew he no longer cared what anyone thought of him - even his family - other than that he was terrible and brutal.

Rhysand stood in silence. Waiting. Wordless. What could he now say to him?

This was his long life, stretching before him: only him and his father, bonded together in misery. Wholly without the light of his mother and Amira.

No more would his mother be the fierce but extended bridge between them, or Amira the beating heart of the family. Their beauty and laughter was gone and now from the world. And Emrys with his half-breed son raised in the unrefined wilds, a disappointment at every turn, and a threat with his growing power. Eyes that never looked at him but to find a fault, or a useful pawn, or a nuisance to be dismissed.

How much more oppressive this place would become with the two of them, hating each other for all eternity.

Emrys paused in his rhythmic, unconscious polishing, nicked the tough skin of his thumb against the newly honed edge of his sword. A drop of blood, red as rose petals, slid down the blade.

The High Lord sat there, no sign of tears on his cheek, no rent clothes, only the mating band on his left hand any reminder of what he had lost.

“Finally you come to me,” he said, watching the wound on his thumb seal back, glowing with magic.

Rhysand bit down his anger, his fear, and fell to his knees.

Hard hewn stone bit into his kneecaps. But it was all right - his body was just a vessel now. Just a carrier of pain. He deserved much more.

He didn’t dare to look at his father. Choking swells of tears rose in his throat, rage and shame. Rhysand bowed his head and shut his eyes tight.

“I am to blame. I accept any punishment from your hand.”

Silence reigned. Rhys waited, calm acceptance in his chest, whether it be for the High Lord’s pitiless wrath or to fall under the quick slice of metal on his neck.

But nothing came. Nothing moved.

Rhysand looked up.

His father’s eyes were locked to him, piercing dark blue - a mirror to his own, the only shared feature, the only reminder of their common blood. Filled with disdain, with disgust.

“What would be a fitting punishment for this, Rhysand? What do you propose?”

The Prince of Night clenched his jaw tight. Against the tears ready to spill, another sign of his weakness and frailty for his father to sneer at.

And also in desperation. To be punished, to have judgment meted out by the High Lord, who he had wronged…who else could give him the condemnation he desired, the retribution fit for his crimes? He could disappear into it - the righteous retaliation of the widower, father, High Lord.

“It was my fault. You warned me. Everyone warned me not to trust him. To trust Tamlin.” His name was noxious in his mouth, his vision still of green eyes and a bright smile, a golden hearty laugh, irreconcilable with this act of viciousness. Of cowardice. “I wasn’t there, when I said I would be. I didn’t protect them. And now they’re - they’re dead. Because of me.”

His voice was a hollowed whisper, his throat ragged and raw. Dead. The first time he spoke the words aloud.

Emrys snorted a laugh, no smile found on his face, shadows cast in his hollow cheeks. “My son. Always the fool.”

Rhysand took a sharp breath against his growing anger. I accept the punishment. I will accept whatever he directs at me. I deserve all of this and more.

The High Lord’s stare did not falter. Rhysand could feel the invectives growing and building inside his father, his lip curling in displeasure. “Always swaggering around the world, like this Cauldron-given power was something you earned. As if it would protect you, as if you were untouchable. The lesson you refused to learn from me.

“You think me mistrusting, isolated. You look upon me with the eyes of fervent youth to only find fault and shortcomings. But now perhaps you will listen to me. Now you will learn. What it takes to have power in this world. What it takes to keep it. You are not an immovable mountain, Rhysand. You are a target. And every day, every moment, your enemies will chip away at you, and everything you hold dear, until they vanquish you. That is the life of a fae of power, that is the life of a High Lord.”

Rhysand inhaled deeply under his cutting look, his father: cold and cruel, forever locked away in his Court, rarely setting foot out of its borders. Rhys had longed for the world, after seeing so much in the war, taking every opportunity to attend summits and meetings and respond to summonses. Hungry for Prythian, for knowledge, for the bright crackle of life and the oddities and newness it held. While his father brooded, paranoid and angry, lying and ignoring the rest of the Courts, keeping the Night Court secrets close.

It was true - he had disregarded him. Had thought him twitchy, frightened, closed minded. Always finding enemies, always hearing the threat behind the door when Rhysand longed only to wrench it open.

“I need to know what else you told him. I need to know if Spring knows about Velaris.”

A cold fist of offense grabbed hold of his heart.

But wasn’t he right, to suspect? To be cautious?

Weren’t his mother and sister more precious to him than the hidden city? And he had given them up without a thought.

“No. He knows nothing beyond public doings of the Hewn City, and some old stories of Illyria.”

“And he knows of your powers? Of your dissatisfactions, of your youthful emotionals and desires to use against you?”

Rhysand swallowed. “Yes. He was my friend.”

Emrys grunted as he sat down again at the foot of his bed. Picking up a stone and a short knife, its handle a soft polished wood inlet with pearl, and started to sharpen.

He was quiet again for a while. Rhysand felt his legs cramp, his kneecaps ache against the stone. “Fortunately for you, you are now my only heir. And while I never sought to have you, I won’t deprive my court of the stability of succession. No matter how little you might deserve it.

“And if you are lucky, you’ll have millennia ahead of you to punish yourself. Or to ask your High Lord to, as you have done with everything difficult in your life. But now is not the time.”

Rhys kept his head bowed, breathing through his despair.

“Get up off your knees.”

“So you will not give me what I desire?”

A hiss emanated from his father. “You are full of grief, and yet still you would fight me instead of listening,” Emrys clenched his jaw as he examined the gleam of the edge of his knife in the raging fireplace. “I will not say I was remiss in your education. I had to forge my legacy alone, as you will, Rhysand. You will learn or you will fail, as the Mother sees fit. The crown will rest on your head. There is no doubt that when I am gone the power will go to you and only you can choose how to handle it. Only six others know what it is to be blessed and tied to the land, and we’d rather cut off our own hands than speak to each other. So do not expect lessons, or a helping hand, when you grapple with the power. ”

He sighed, finally done with the sword, his eyes locked to the flickering flames. “I know when the weight of the court is on your shoulders and the centuries have made you tired and brittle, you will remember me. You’ll remember your foolish, youthful spite and when you finally recognize the solitary prison of your throne, I will be long gone, and unable to assuage you.”

He exhaled again. Sheathed the knife at his side. He brought his sword to his back, strapped across from shoulder blade to hip, unlike the spinal column blade of the Illyrians. “Such is the way of it.”

Rhysand stood still as marble, fists clenched.

He couldn’t believe his father - he would be a different kind of ruler someday, not so cold, not so vicious and merciless. He would dream and work create a Velaris of the whole world.

Emrys laughed, as if sensing his thoughts.

“It is the undeniable truth of being High Lord - that your power came from the death of another. The poets and the historians may dress it up however they like, but a High Lord’s power is forged in death. To be a High Lord is to be fatherless. To be a High Lord is to be alone.”

“I don’t believe that.” All the reaching he had done, his heart straining across long quiet dining tables, aching for the eyes of his father to fall on him, to show even the hint of softness underneath. That hollowness inside made Rhysand brave. “You had your mate. You had your family. You chose to be alone.”

Emrys hummed, dismissive. “I will not argue with a child. Now is not the time.”

“When is the time?” Rhys snapped. If he could not speak plainly with his father when their whole world was broken, could not find a drop of love or care in him even at the death of his family, was there anything decent to be found in him at all?

“I believe you are as fond of this performance of grief as you were of your mother and sister.”

The words hit him like boulders to his chest.

The old man must truly not feel anymore, had lost all ability to understand anything beyond himself and his own power.

Leave it to his father to drag him out of grief and into rage.

“Do I shame you my lord, by mourning for my own flesh and blood? My deepest apologies, I should have known better than to think you would care.”

A snap of power arced across the room, across his face like a blow.

“Do not test me, boy,” the snarl of anger, of pure violence Rhysand had been craving since he set foot under the mountain. Hand on his burning cheek, Rhysand looked up. Saw his father’s knuckles white with restraint. “There are many things, an entire world of things you know nothing of. To lose a mate –” Emrys eyes flickered away, a snarl twitching at his lips. The only sign he was affected. More emotion than Rhys had seen from him in years.

The High Lord closed his eyes. Took a breath deep into his lungs. The tension did not leave his shoulders.

When he spoke again, his voice was low. “You will never know, Rhysand, what it is like. If you are ever cursed and blessed with a mating bond then I wish you better fortune than I. To have a mate is to no longer belong to yourself. To have pieces ripped and torn from you that can never be returned.”

All the hatred Rhys had ever felt for his father gathered at once, roiling in his stomach, acid and poison burning from within. “So you resent her? The Cauldron chose a mate for you and all you feel is regret?” Too late he realized he spoke of her as if she was still here…the pain of remembrance crumpling inside him all over again, even amidst his rage.

“You do not understand.”

Canines, tearing through the soft flesh of his mouth, an iron tang on the Prince’s tongue. “She loved you. I don’t know why, but she did. And all you ever gave her in return were orders, as if she were some servant, as if she were some possession of yours to move from palace to palace. And that was when you weren’t ignoring her outright. Did you ever even –”

The slap on his face this time wasn’t from magic, it was the hard sting of flesh, the rings on his father’s hands bruising his cheekbone.

Rhysand fell from the force of it, hard hewn stone on his back, his father towering over him like a dark storm.

“You don’t understand. There is a part of me now that is gone. Forever. It’s in my chest and there’s a –” another deep breath, his face scrunched in pain.

Emrys fought again to master himself, chest heaving as he stood over his son.

“I don’t understand. How can you be so calm? How can you be so accepting”

The High Lord sighed, burdened and angry. “I carry heavy weights every day. I have grown accustomed to them. The weight of the court is upon me always, the power, the care, the suffering. Obedience and betrayal. A plot at every corner. Sycophants and assassins. And all the while the people who rely on you, open hands, hungry mouths. Their cries of suffering are at your hands, their pain, your failure.” Rhys was surprised at the candor, at the care in his father’s words.

“You are my son, Amira was my daughter, but every Night Court member is my child. My responsibility. This you will learn too one day, if you can someday overcome your natural selfishness. There is no choice or thought…if you are a good High Lord, you will bleed for them a thousand times over and it will never be enough. You learn to protect the inner parts of you, the last bit of blood to keep you going another day.”

“So this is what you have to teach me, father? That I’m doomed to a life of loneliness, that a mating bond is a curse, that I’ll be crushed daily under my duties and responsibilities? That there’s no joy or love in the future, only duty and pain?”

Emrys shrugged. A thoughtless gesture, so boredly casual Rhysand almost laughed. “You will make your own life, Rhysand. One day you will have to make your own choices without me. I will not fight for your understanding if you continue to be a fool. Come, we’re wasting time. The sun is setting across Prythian and night is coming to the Spring Court.”

“What?”

Emrys stood, flipping another sword in his hand to inspect, then sheathing it at his side. He offered a hand to Rhysand. His son flinched.

A steady look passed between them. Filled with stars, filled with eternity. And a question. Rhysand finally took his hand and stood.

The Prince of Night eyed his High Lord with wariness. Although he knew him to be powerful and a fighter in his youth, it was rare for him to be the warrior, to set aside his power and step away from the Illyrian legions to hold steel in his own hands.

“I hope you will be strong. I hope you have learned something from those damned Illyrians. I could have taught you more, but you would’ve made a poor pupil. And I a poor teacher.” Rhysand cocked a brow, at the strange admission. “But it’s too late for that now. Let me teach you the final lesson - how to treat with your enemies.”

Rhysand’s blood went cold.

Yes, he had plenty of thoughts of blood on his hands, of Spring running red with it. And in his heart he knew there was no other answer from his father.

But now it was real.

And Tamlin…his mother…

“It’s high time you put to use these supposed powers of yours. You will show me what everyone whispers across the court about my Cauldron-blessed son.” A command. “You will serve me in this, and work to clean the debt now upon you. You will hold their minds, we will not give them an instant to summon any defense. And they will know the terror that lurks in the darkness.”

There was relief, shameful but sure and calm, at the order of the High Lord. The Prince would have no choice, he would obey orders, he would be a weapon for his father and nothing more.

And yet –

“We cannot kill the Lady of Spring. Every male must bleed, but we cannot be like them.”

Emrys shook his head, his blond hair brushing onto his forehead, strangely disheveled. “You’re still not listening.”

“I am listening. If I had a mating bond, I would not wish the death of my mate. And I would not wish it upon another, if it tears you apart. The death of her family would be enough suffering for all.”

Rhysand saw the resistance, dismissive in his father’s face.

“Promise me.”

Emrys eyes flashed. Rhysand had never demanded things of his father, never had the bravery.

So he watched while the High Lord considered. Nodded. “It will be as you say.”

Emrys stopped the sure movement of his hands, which had been buckling belts, smoothing the front of his tunic, tightening the sheath of his weapons. His gaze upon his son was suddenly heavy, knowing. Rhysand felt the full weight of it. Longing was prickling in him, to winnow, to dive into the violence awaiting them before he had time to balk.

In a matter of hours, maybe minutes, Tamlin would be dead. The Spring Court decimated by Night. A High Lord killed for his crimes, descendents wiped from the earth.

No matter the thrumming power of the order of his father, Prythian would know what befell the Spring Court. Who was the only one who could hold minds and overpower High Lords and their sons. This was the beginning of his legacy. His father would lead the way but Prythian, and the world, would soon only know the son of Night as the terrible angel of retribution.

Slowly, Emrys unsheathed the knife from his side. Flipped it in a smooth motion. Offered it, gleaming wood handle, to his son.

An order. A question.

Rhysand breathed. Traced the inlet pearl in the handle with his eyes, glimmering like starlight.

Two faces, contorted in pain. The tinkling of laughter, the warmth of wings encircling him. The soft sound of his mother’s voice as she sang him to sleep.

Rhysand reached out his hand, and grasped the knife.

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