#after like A YEAR AND A HALF of slow burn development }

[porcelainseashore]

To Neighbors and New Beginnings

Pairing: Retired! Older! Leon Kennedy x Neighbor! Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon’s getting on in years and finally retired. But that doesn’t mean he’s slowing down in terms of enjoying life. When you moved in next door, little did you realize what you had bargained for.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Post-Resident Evil: Death Island, age gap (Leon in his 60s, Reader in her 30s), strangers to lovers, swearing, bad humor, teasing, flirting, awkward tension, slow burn, romance, fluff, suggestive themes, mild smut.

Authors' Note: Inspired by this older Leon Kennedy pic, we started with a drabble that of course turned into a full length one-shot about our favorite agent, who’s aged like fine wine. This is a writing collab between AliBelleRosetta / @alibellerosetta and me, which we did for fun!

AO3 Link

There comes a time when an agent needs to retire, and Leon was no exception. When he started pushing mid-60s, there wasn’t much else he could do, save for having his brains picked for knowledge on B.O.W. behavior and countertactics. Even that was slowly dwindling as new virus strains and procedures developed. It reached a point where an agreement was made for him to be called in on a consulting basis, but for the most part of his retirement life, he was free to do as he pleased, within limits.

After all the horrors he had witnessed, he was more than happy to opt for the simple life. He finally had enough time on his hands to care for a pet. So, he pounced at the opportunity and got himself a retired police dog, settling down together with him in a quiet, suburban neighborhood, in the middle of nowhere, doing fuck all. At least for the moment. Until you came along. You sweet, young thing, you.

You were half his age, but all is fair in love and war when both of you were consenting adults. You’d recently moved in next door to him, after the previous owners had decided to sell off their house in favor of acquiring a smaller, more manageable place. What was a young lady like yourself doing here? he often wondered. You were an enigma, just like he was to you.

It began with him going about his daily routine of yawning and stretching his weary limbs, as he trudged out sluggishly, in nothing more than a pair of shorts and flip-flops, to get the morning paper from his mailbox, dog trailing behind. Slamming the lid shut after he had fished the paper out of the box and flicked it open, he spotted you from the corner of his eye, just as his dog lifted his leg to mark his territory on the stand.

You were standing by your kitchen window, biting the bottom of your lip, oblivious to the tap left running, as you peered at him intently. It seemed as if you were even unaware that he had caught you staring, since you made no attempt to cover it up. He smirked to himself before nonchalantly heading back to his house. It gave him a boost of confidence knowing that he still remained spry as ever. So what if his hair, once golden blonde and a source of pride, was now a sea of white? So what if he sported a couple of wrinkles and liver spots? He sure as hell hadn’t lost his touch yet.

A couple of days later, when the weather was good, he pulled up a deckchair on the front lawn, in direct line of sight of your bedroom window. The sound of your hair dryer turning on tipped him off that you were in. He proceeded to sunbathe on the chair topless, his newspaper in hand, without a care in the world. His dog made his rounds along the lawn, frolicking in the grass, as various passers-by greeted Leon cordially.

“Mr. Kennedy.”

He nodded at them politely.

A moment later, he heard the shutters of a window opening. He didn’t even have to turn in your direction to know that you were leaning out, pretending to take in the glow of the noon sun as you traced the outline of his muscles with your eyes. He flipped a page and chuckled. Oh, what was he going to do with you?

Well, the grass was getting taller and more unruly. That wouldn’t do. It was time for him to whip out the big guns. He picked a Sunday afternoon, when people were usually lazy and lounged around at home. Gripping the mower’s handle with one hand, he pulled the starter cord a couple of times, until the engine revved to life. 

Its loud, whirring sound caused you to poke your head out of your window. He caught your gaze then, giving you a cocky wink. A scarlet blush spread across your cheeks as you waved back at him, trying to appear friendly. Shaking his head with a grin, he got to work, methodically pushing the mower across the lush, green expanse of his front lawn. The crisp scent of freshly cut grass filled the air, as the sun’s rays beat down mercilessly. Beads of perspiration glistened on his forehead and pooled at his neck. It was time for a short break.

Peeling his drenched, white t-shirt over his head, he used it to wipe the sweat away, dabbing at his chest and underarms, before slinging it over his shoulder. Your eyes were fixed on the scene before you, as you rested your chin in the cradle of your hands, staring dreamily at him again from the window. He flexed his upper body slightly, just enough to give you a teaser of what was to come. That snapped you out of your reverie, as you cleared your throat and busied yourself with something in the kitchen. He couldn’t see what it was from where he was standing.

Soon, he saw you walking over with an icy cold drink in your hand. You stuck it out in front of him like a peace offering.

“Lemonade?” You seemed uncertain and shy.

“Sure.” He nodded and smiled, accepting it graciously. 

A tingle ran through your veins where his fingers brushed against yours when he took the glass from you. His piercing blue eyes held your gaze as he gulped down the refreshment, though the last bits of it spilled from his mouth down to his chest.

“Oops.” He shrugged unapologetically. “Can’t let it go to waste, can I?”

Dragging his finger along the wet parts of his chest, he gathered what remained of the liquid and placed it into his mouth, licking and sucking on it like it was the most delicious thing in the world.

“Mmm,” he murmured softly. “Tastes good.”

The crow’s feet etching the corners of his eyes crinkled warmly, as he watched you sputter and cough in response.

“Excuse me.” A crimson wave had washed over your face, as you pat your chest furiously. “Choked on my saliva.”

“Happens to the best of us.”

He eyed you again intensely, motioning to your other hand. “What’ve you got there?”

“Oh, uh, sunblock?” You pointed at the reddened skin on his back. “I thought you might-”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he interrupted, presenting his back towards you, as he waited patiently for you to make a move.

Sweetheart? You swallowed thickly, trying to figure out if you had misheard what he said. Shakily, you squeezed out a creamy, white blob of sunscreen into your palms, rubbing them together before slathering it over his back gingerly.

You gasped in surprise, as you felt the toned muscles of his back beneath your hands. This was way better in-person. He must work out a lot, you thought. A lot more than someone of his age.

However, it didn’t take long for you to notice the multitude of scars scattered across his back. As you caressed the raised bumps and faded indents, you wondered what kind of life he had led back in the day. Was he a military man? A war veteran? Or maybe he just got into a lot of fights?

Apparently, you must have a magic touch, because Leon started to treat it as if you were giving him a full-body massage.

“Yeah,” he grunted, as you ran your hands over his taut shoulders. “Right there…”

Your task was to simply ensure he didn't get any more sunburned than he already was, but the poor man was so tight all over, you felt sorry for him. So, you got a little carried away and pressed hard against a particularly stubborn knot in his lower back.

He tilted his head back involuntarily and let out a loud, pornographic moan.

“Mr. Kennedy?” you squeaked, concerned if you went too far.

“Please, just call me Leon.” He flashed a boyish smile that revealed a glimpse into how he might have appeared in his younger days. “Don’t worry, you’re doing great, sweetheart.”

You hummed in response, his praise getting the better of you and causing a pool of arousal to form between your legs. All at once, you’d forgotten where to place your hands, what to say, and what exactly were you doing, flirting with your older neighbor so shamelessly out in the open?

A cold shower was definitely on the agenda after this. If DILFs existed, what would you call even older men who were this fuckable again? GILFs? You shuddered, feeling dirty for all the obscene thoughts swimming through your mind.

“Um, well, I guess that’s done!” you chirped out rather overenthusiastically, as you pulled away from him.

There was a slight pout on his face, though he was quick to mask it with a courteous smile. “Shame,” he commented lightheartedly. “Was enjoying it.”

A little too much, you snickered internally, as you made your way back to your house

━━━━━━━━━━━

As he stood staring out of his living room window, he pondered his next move. Despite your previous hasty retreat, you had taken to discreetly watching him work with not just a small amount of eagerness, and he was more than happy to oblige your ogling. After all, who wouldn't want a beautiful woman staring after them?

You were a curious one in his eyes, a blend of boldness as you approached him and shyness the moment you got your anticipated reward. It was a fun game he was more than happy to play with you.

Today wasn't going to be any different.

Once again, the sun hung high with not a cloud in sight, perfect to work outside on some much needed errands, but with your notable attention on him lately, the to-do list had taken quite a hit. His ideas were wearing thin, but one thought stuck out, especially with how keen you seemed to be watching him work the lawnmower. Maybe something on a larger scale would be within your interests.

With a smirk and a listen out for the quiet clangs coming from your kitchen to let him know you were home, he dropped the empty coffee cup down in his sink and headed over to snatch up his long neglected key to get on with the job at hand. The sturdy garage door opened with a series of loud clanks, the inside admittedly dusty with neglect. There in the middle stood his pride and joy. The motorcycle was an older model, but also the only one to withstand his youthful recklessness.

It’s long overdue for a tune up, he thought, grasping the handlebars as he pushed the bike out of the garage. He let it come to a rest slightly out on the driveway as he decided to give it a check over and wash it down, sneakily just in the eyeline of your window but not enough for you to see much. The bike itself admittedly didn’t get ridden as much as it should, but if he guessed right, maybe it would someday soon.

You had heard the noise of his garage door open only for curiosity to get the better of you, cracking open the window to try to get a peek of what your neighbor was up to now. It was like something had come over you, and every time he made an appearance, you couldn’t help but watch after him. You saw he was there outside briefly before heading back into his house and returning moments later with a bucket full of soapy water.

When he glanced at your kitchen upon his return, he chuckled to himself as he dropped the bucket down, sloshing some of the water across his drive. Apparently his idea had already started to work a treat, having grabbed your attention. He inserted the key into the ignition and turned it, as the motorcycle roared to life, the battery still able to kick in despite its disuse. The sound of the engine was distinct, much different from the mower previously, and he knew it was sure to pique your interest even further with what a curious thing you were. The shuffling from your kitchen as the window cracked open a little more was enough to tell him that he once again had your attention. Without a care in the world other than checking his bike and giving you a show, he dropped down on one knee, ignoring the tightening feeling in his joints. His knees weren't what they used to be after too many B.O.W. fights.

From your hung back viewpoint, you couldn’t see much, but the noise from outside drew your focus fiercely and you couldn't help but try to get a better look. No matter how much you stood on your tiptoes and reached close to the window, he was just about covered from your spot where you could only make out his unfortunately clothed back, hiding his mysterious antics for once. The way he was acting was odd, as usually he was more open with his activities. You tried to tell yourself that you should walk away and leave him to it, but it was like a desperate urge that needed to be quenched.

While his dog ran off into the yard to chase a wandering squirrel, he moved on to checking the bike over, not one to half-ass his task even if there were other motives. A quick examination of the moving parts and pivot points for signs of wear and tear came back fine, as well as inspecting for any leakage that disuse could have caused. The job was a lot messier than he remembered, with the oil gathering around the edges of the chassis coating his hands and part of his top.

The sudden barking of his dog nearby alerted him to a presence on the property, a smirk creeping up knowingly that your interest had once again gotten the better of you. You just stood there next to him staring him down, checking out his arm muscles that were left uncovered by the loose gray tank he wore, the words of your friends running through your mind as they egged you on to get closer to him. He had been working hard, and you noticed with a flush that some of the oil had smudged up his forearms and along his taught biceps.

He was tempted to chuckle at just how predictable you were becoming, knowing before he turned to look your way that you would be gazing over him with that distinct look in your eyes. It was no surprise to him at all that he was correct, finding you standing there with your shadow cast over him, and your arms wrapped around yourself, transfixed. He was seriously wondering if you didn’t know you were staring at him that way, or if you just didn’t care to hide it.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you found your eyes suddenly catching his, quickly darting away from his bright blue ones and to the motorcycle he was working on. “Oh wow, didn't know you had a bike.”

“This old girl? Been with me for years,” he said as his large hand patted the hard seat in front of him. He then used the seat as a brace to stand up, stretching out the stiff muscles that had begun to seize up from his crouched position while also putting his body on full display for your eyes. 

You couldn’t help yourself as you watched him riveted, taking in the way he flexed and moved as you felt a blush flash across your cheeks again. You had to cough to clear your throat as you tore your eyes away from him. “Haven't seen you ride it.”

“Not much of a chance to lately.”

You bit your cheek at the thought of him on it, and of you wrapped around his firm back while he rode it. No matter what, your mind kept going back to him, reliving the sensation of his skin under your hands when you had put lotion on his body, desperate to touch-

“I need to wash.”

“What?” you yelped, startled out of your wandering thoughts which snapped to his oil-covered arms and hands, eyeing them up and instantly imagining them instead coated in lather and foam as water streaked down them. You wouldn't have minded being the one to wash that oil off of his skin if it meant running your hands all over him again, a thought you were coming to accept was fueled by nothing but pure lust.

“The bike. It's filthy,” he clarified with an amused chuckle, leaving you feeling hot, embarrassed and completely disappointed. Of course he meant the bike, you scolded yourself, suddenly flushing more with humiliation than arousal.

Unexpectedly, he moved to bend down right in front of you, the tank he was wearing gaping open enough with the movement for you to look down the front of it and at his solid chest partially hidden underneath. “Oh,” you sighed out as you bit your tongue hard in an effort not to say more, his head becoming dangerously close to your crotch, and if he just shifted over a little more… 

His rough hand reached into the bucket next to you to grab the sponge floating on top, his eyes moving to catch yours as he shot you a downright dangerous smirk. As he stood back up straight, he rang the sponge out to remove the excess water, the soapy suds flying everywhere around the pair of you. You noticed that the foam coated his tank and turned it translucent in the sun as it clung tightly to his body and left trails of droplets over his uncovered skin. All you could do was swallow hard and drag your eyes off of him, a task that was more monumental than you thought it would be.

With a casualness about him, he set the sponge down on the seat of the bike suddenly, asking you, “Wanna go for a ride sometime?” 

You were caught by surprise, mind instantly faltering at the evocative question. There was no way he meant anything other than a ride on his motorcycle, right? you thought. After all, he was just a friendly older man, not some hormone riddled teen chatting up the first woman he laid eyes on. It was you that had the dirty mind. “I, um, maybe? I don't have much experience with them,” you said, answering his question as best you could ramble out.

His eyebrow quirked at your answer, his voice deepening slightly as he replied, “Hmm, never thought that would be the case. I don't mind teaching you a few things, sweetheart.”

You just laughed off his words, thinking the suggestiveness was still all on you. “I've never even been on a bike.”

“Who said I was talking about my bike?”

Your breath instantly hitched at the implication, your eyes darting between his mirth filled ones only to drift lower and catch onto his lips. They looked soft, warm, highlighted on each side by deepened laughter lines that you never would’ve thought could look so good on a man. But as they say, when men get older they age like fine wine. If that was the case, he would be a Cabernet Sauvignon aged to perfection. And you were parched.

It didn’t surprise you at all that when you found yourself shifting closer to him, you chose to embrace it, craving to feel the lips of the man you had spent too much time lately thinking about, only to become emboldened as he seemed to move in too. Your lips were mere inches apart, the heat of desire desperately running through you at the anticipated touch. 

All that came crashing down the moment his dog streaked past you chasing that damn squirrel, sending the bucket of water flying and splashing water across you both, cooling down your racing pulse and burning libido. Alarmed, you quickly backed away from him, down his drive, as the implications of what you almost did crashed down upon you. All you could do was mutter some kind of excuse and beat a hasty retreat, wondering how you would ever be able to look your neighbor in the eye the next time you saw him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

As Leon watched the scene unfold in front of him, there wasn’t much else he could do. You were a slippery one, like a mouse that had been spooked and scurried off. The one that got away. He placed his hands on his hips, arms akimbo as he clucked his tongue and sighed. Rein it in, Kennedy. What were you thinking?

He really should find better things to do than to chase a pretty little thing like you. You probably had a bunch of younger men waiting in line, he noted self-deprecatingly.

Suddenly, he heard a buzzing sound and a light flickered on the ground at his feet. Your phone. It must have slipped out of your pocket in your rush to get away. Picking it up, his eyes darted towards the message notification on the screen that piqued his curiosity. It seemed to come from a group chat entitled ‘All The Single Ladies’.

‘Raaarrr, is that the literal definition of a silver fox or what?’

Silver fox? Did they mean what he was thinking? He began to second-guess himself.

The next notification popped up only seconds after, filled with thirsty-looking emojis followed by another text.

��Damn gurl, your neighbor is hot af! You better tap that or I will!’

More strings of notifications chimed in, as the phone vibrated constantly.

‘GILF alert!’

‘I wanna blow him so hard he’ll…’

At that, he put the phone down and stopped reading, already having figured out your spiel and not wanting to intrude any further into your privacy. A wry smile formed across his face. Not only had you been speaking with your friends about him, you’d even sent them a sneaky picture you’d snapped of him to gawk at.

A sense of pride swelled in his chest as he was back in the game again. Guess he’d better clean up and use the perfect excuse of returning your phone back to you to have a chat.

Meanwhile at your place, you’d managed to calm your nerves with a cold shower and a pot of floral tea. That was so stupid! you screamed at yourself internally, not daring to look in the direction of the window any longer.

Before you had a chance to ponder upon your recent actions any longer, your stomach growled audibly. Glancing up at the clock, you were astonished to find that the hours had just sped by unnoticed. It was already time to start cooking dinner. You had a whole chicken and potatoes to roast, as well as the vegetables, herb butter and sauce to prepare. 

Your friends were supposed to have joined you today for the meal, but unfortunately unforeseen circumstances had kept them preoccupied, and your dinner gathering had been delayed to another weekend. Still, you were determined not to let that get in the way of your enjoyment, so you decided to go ahead with the same meal plan anyway.

If only today’s events had gone differently with a certain neighbor of yours. You sighed dejectedly and pressed a palm against your face. Though that sparked off a reminder that you hadn’t checked your phone for any messages for a while. Where was it?

You scrambled around, digging through your pockets and your purse to find the device, but came back empty-handed. A blinding panic began to set in. Oh god no. You didn’t leave it at Leon’s by accident, did you?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

Just then, the doorbell rang, startling you and causing you to jump to your feet. You sprinted towards the door, swinging it open, only to come face-to-face with the man who had been causing you all this trouble so far.

“H-hello…?” you stammered out a greeting, slowly wedging yourself behind the door, using it like a makeshift barrier between you and Leon.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He dangled your phone in front of him, grinning playfully. “Forgot something?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks!” You reached out, grabbing it quickly as you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly.

A horrifying thought swept through your mind. Did he know? You searched his facial expression closely for any indication that he might have seen something on your phone that he shouldn’t have, but there was nothing. He looked as cool and collected as ever.

Maybe you were overthinking things. “I was just about to make dinner actually,” you mentioned in passing. 

He looked at you expectantly and whatever willpower you had left in that instant vanished into thin air. You caved in.

“Would you like to join me?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could process them.

"Thought you'd never ask," he replied huskily as he stepped into the corridor you led him through.

“So what’re we cooking tonight, chef?” He peered around the kitchen, checking out the equipment and utensils, trying to get acquainted with the place.

You guffawed. “Erm, you’re a guest.”

“So?” He folded his arms. “I’m not the type who lets a lady do all the work.”

Aware that he wasn’t going to budge on the matter, you raised your hands in mock exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“You’re not the first to say it.” He shrugged, sliding past you towards where the aprons were hanging. You gasped when you felt his calloused hands momentarily on your waist. Was he doing this on purpose?

Pulling yourself together, you started to brief him on the Sunday Roast Chicken recipe, passed down through generations in your family from a battered, old notebook. He responded to each instruction with a “Yes, ma’am,” and followed them to a T. You had to give him brownie points for his eagerness to please.

“No, Leon,” you scolded gently. “That doesn’t go there.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Could you stop calling me ma’am?” You laughed. “Makes me feel old.”

“You’re one to talk.” He winked at you while placing the baking tray on the correct level. “Are you this bossy in the bedroom?”

You nearly spat out the water you’d been sipping on. “Uh, I-I don’t know?” Clearly, you wanted to bury yourself in a hole right there and then.

“Guess the proof is in the pudding,” he mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear every single word.

“Wine?” Your shrill voice cut through the air like a knife, as you tried to change the subject, shoving the bottle directly into his chest.

“Oof.” It stunned him that he felt winded by the accidental blow. He gripped the bottle as you eyed him apologetically. “Easy there, girl.”

“Sorry, my bad.” 

You brought over two empty glasses while he helped to pour out the wine, your fingers grazing against his wrist as he handed you a filled up one back. A part of you wanted to prolong the caress, but you held back, unsure of where you stood with him. You could feel the weight of his burning gaze locked onto yours as he toasted to “neighbors and new beginnings” before drinking from his glass.

You almost missed your cue, taking an extra beat to raise your own glass to your lips as you dragged your eyes from his. The wine on your tongue tasted like the sweetest you had ever sipped. Maybe it’s the company? you questioned as you watched him drop his glass down on the counter behind him. You clutched your own tightly, feeling the atmosphere constricting as he refused to look away.

The only thing you could hear was the tick of the kitchen timer and the beat of your pulse in your ears as the silence stretched between you both. Besides the smoldering of his eyes under his snowy bangs, he gave you nothing, so with desperation, you racked your brain for something, anything, to keep the tense undercurrent at bay.

With a moment of clarity, it hit you as you dropped your own glass down and glanced over towards the far side of your kitchen. The single table sat there, usually a crowded affair when your friends were over but plenty big for just two. If nothing else, setting the table would keep you busy and your mind from wandering.

With a plan of action in place to set the table, you went to shift from your spot only to be met with another obstacle. Of all the places he had to be standing in your kitchen, it was just typical he was in front of the cutlery drawer. Still, even if you had to get close to him, it was meant to be a friendly dinner after all. The almost kiss was probably just in your mind and you had been overanalyzing too much. All he had done that night since was bring over your phone like a good Samaritan and help you cook dinner like a friend.

You walked over to him, noticing that despite your approach he didn't move at all, seeming very content to have you come into his close proximity. You caught his eyes as they drifted downwards, and all of a sudden you realized the mistake you were making. Being this near to him was setting off the blush you tried keeping down, and you were sure he was going to notice.

“May I?” you asked as you stopped in front of him, a hand pointing at the drawer behind him. 

“Whatever you need,” he murmured, while not even moving a step away.

You blinked up at him, trying hard not to imagine what else he could possibly mean with those words. “The drawer. I keep the cutlery in there.”

Despite your explanation, he still didn’t shift, instead just staying where he was and watching you curiously. He had to wonder what you were up to, getting so close to him with that cute flush on your face, stammering out any old excuse. You didn’t need one at all, in his opinion.

“Oh.”

That one syllable sent a shiver down your spine. It was a mistake, a really, really bad one you decided right then and there. Just being so near to him, feeling the heat of his breath was making the ache to touch him that much more potent. You wanted to feel those lips.

You backed off from him in a hurry, fighting the flush that you felt flooding your skin as you bumped into the oven, clanging the pan you had on top that had been left out to help you prepare the dinner. You found your excuse to keep him at bay, still needing to finish preparing a few final bits of the meal.

“Help set the table?” you quickly asked him with your voice a tad too high. “Plates are up there.”

You hoped it worked, sending him a good distance away from you in the kitchen to arrange the table while you got your overheated body under control.

“There’s that bossy thing again,” you heard him mutter as he opened the cabinet you had pointed to and reached up to grab a couple of plates, though his words sounded strangely disappointed to your surprise.

You tried not to look over, but in the end it was in vain. You were blessed by the sight of his shirt ridden up, once again showing off his ridiculous physique and making you feel like melting all over again.

Tonight’s dinner was going to be a long one.

━━━━━━━━━━━

In spite of the earlier faux pas, you were thankful that having dinner with Leon passed by without any further embarrassments. He proved to be quite a decent conversationalist when he wanted to be, and you found yourself relaxing into the laughter and various points of discussion you both shared. You were enjoying yourself so much that you hadn’t realized how fast time had flown, and it was suddenly nearing midnight. Suffice to say, you were feeling rather disappointed that he would need to leave so soon.

“Good food, good wine, good company…” He stood up, helping you to clear the dishes from the table. “What more could a man like myself ask for?”

You beamed at him, letting your guard down for once. He was being such a gentleman that you couldn’t help but open your mouth and blabber out the next statement before thinking. “Could I get you anything else? Dessert, or-”

You caught yourself, pausing abruptly as your stomach sank. Why did everything you say sound like an innuendo?

He placed the dishes down where they were and made his way slowly and assuredly towards you. For some reason, you were frozen on the spot, unable to scamper off and hide within your own home without looking like an absolute fool in front of the man you had been secretly crushing on this whole time.

“You know, I can see the gears turning.” It was as if his voice dropped an octave lower. “Right here.” He tapped his fingers lightly against the side of your head, giving you a slanted smile.

“Now that you say it,” he continued languidly. “Dessert would be nice.”

He curled his hand, so that his knuckles brushed along your cheek towards your jawline, as you shivered from his touch.

“Whatever you need,” you echoed his previous sentiments softly, as you lost yourself in his deep blue eyes, now ablaze with a fierce hunger. All you could do was stare into them, watching as they drew ever closer. Then you caught it, the moment they left yours to drop down lower. Your lips parted as you inhaled sharply, your heart pounding as you felt the ghost of his breath.

You thought that he would pull away at any second, that it was just another misunderstanding. That was until you felt the first light brush against your lips. Your mind went blank, struggling to keep up until it hit that he was kissing you. All those prior moments with him flashed across your mind, and none of them had been innocent after all.

His hand slid to rest against your cheek, pulling your face closer to his as his lips caressed your own, coaxing you to reciprocate as you finally gave in to the yearning that had constricted you for so long. His lips were softer than you thought they would be, but warm as you returned the kiss with an indulgent sigh.

You felt him smile against your mouth, as you trailed your hands along his arms towards his shoulders, pressing your body against his in an effort to deepen the kiss. He grew bolder, licking across the slight parting of your lips, as if seeking permission to continue. Whimpering in pleasure, you allowed him to move his tongue to meet yours, drawing in his taste again and again.

As you started to gently grind into him, he broke away for air, pressing his forehead against yours, panting heavily against your swollen mouth. “Delicious,” he breathed, before clamping his lips at the side of your neck, sucking and nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot.

Tugging the collar of his shirt tightly, you rasped, “How about a second helping?”

The next thing you knew, you were lying on your bed, slick with sweat while Leon rocked his hips against yours. You savored the fullness of him in you, grasping onto his ass as your nails dug into his skin, leaving angry, red marks in the process. “More,” you whined, in a tone that came off unintentionally on the side of demanding rather than pleading.

He gave you just what you asked for, with sweet nothings coming from his lips along with comments about knowing you were going to be bossy. Testing the waters brought you both much further than expected, but neither of you could complain.

The rest of the night went by in a dreamlike haze. At some point, you rode him on top, his large, chafed hands groping your breasts, as you tilted your head back and cried out until your voice was hoarse. At another, you leaned your back flush against his chest as he thrust into you from behind, groaning incoherently into your neck. 

You took things in your own stride, resting when needed and going again when it was comfortable to do so. Even though he had set the pace slower than you were used to, it was no less intense. In fact, everything felt deeper and more passionate, like you were melting into one.

Every release he brought you was an ascension that sent you beyond, flooding you with a euphoria that made you desperate for him. It left you addicted, your body craving more and more of his touch each time until nothing but the feel of his skin and the shifting of the sheets could be comprehended.

The final time was intense, filled with a feeling of pure bliss that you knew you would be dreaming about for days as you clung to him in desperate abandon. His name fell from your lips in a gasp, and in turn he muttered yours.

Splayed across his damp chest, you traced the lines of his freckled, weathered skin, as he stroked your hair contentedly. “Best dessert I’ve had in a while,” he grunted, intertwining his fingers with yours and bringing your knuckles to meet his lips. “Michelin star worthy.”

You swatted his hand playfully, giggling at his quip. It spurred you on to tease him back. “So, will I get an actual ride next time?”

He chuckled heartily, though he didn’t miss a beat. Age was never an issue, he still had his wits about him. “’Course, sweetheart.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “If you tell me what a GILF is.”

[cherryblossombankai]

Word Count: 1.9K

Summary: After Gale accidentally witnesses you in a vulnerable state, he tries to make up for his mistake. It goes better than he expected.

Warnings: fem!reader, masturbation, accidental voyeurism, bathtub sex, penetration, creampie, pining, so much pining

“For fuck’s sake,” Gale growls under his breath as he stares at the purple ceiling of his tent. In his pants, his cock is once more rock-hard and throbbing. Even the feeling of the fabric of his underwear brushing against his cock feels like too much stimulation. He’s already panting pathetically as he tugs at the collar of his shirt. 

All it took was one fleeting thought of you, how it had felt when you kissed his cheek earlier that night, and now he’s fighting the urge to jerk off. He wants you so badly it’s driving him insane. Although the year since he last allowed himself to be released is certainly not helping matters. He’d been quite convinced that the excitement of arousal would be enough to set off the orb. As he’s learned a bit more about it, that conclusion doesn’t seem accurate. However, he’s not brave enough to test it. 

The air in his tent feels thick and suffocating all of a sudden. He peers through the opening to make sure nobody is out before crawling out of his tent. He sits outside on one of his cushions, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself, then reaches down to adjust himself in his pants. 

He enjoys the cool night air on his heated skin. He even closes his eyes to savor the moment, then he hears it…A soft, gentle moan in the night. 

Did that come from your tent?

His heart pounds in his chest. Fighting off the images of you laying on your bedroll, thighs spread and shirt open while you touch yourself, he opens a book to distract himself. 

“I’ve become a pervert in my old age,” he murmurs. With simple magic, he lights a lamp and then tries to read the book. He swears you seem to be moaning louder. 

“Gale,” you pant softly. His ears perk up at the sound of his name being said so sweetly. 

Meanwhile, in the confines of your tent, your eyes are tightly closed and your fingers eagerly rub at your swollen clit. You imagine it’s Gale touching you, whispering sweet words in your ear. You developed a crush on him quite early on, but lately, it’s developed into an almost feral need for him. 

He crawls over to the entrance of your tent. His moves are slow and easy as he pushes aside the flap. When he spots you on your bedroll, he has to bite his lip to stifle a moan. 

“Gale!” you shriek upon seeing him, throwing the blanket over you to cover your lower half. “What the hells?” 

Gale shakes himself out of the haze he’d found himself in and averts his gaze, “I apologize!” 

He backs away and then sprints back to his tent. His body feels tightly knotted. As he sits down upon his bedroll, he’s panting like an aroused animal. Leaning forward to hold his head in his hands, he utters to himself what a fool he was for snooping. 

The next morning, he can’t look at you. Across the camp, he’s watching you begin gathering your gear, preparing for the day’s adventure. When you look up at him, his cheeks burn and he clears his throat before approaching. 

“Shall I join you today?” he asks, hope tinting his words. 

“Oh, I was going to ask Lazael to accompany me,” you blush, looking down at the ground. “We’re going to check out some ruins!” 

“Ah! Ruins! Who knows what manner of magic you might stumble upon,” Gale’s eyes twinkle with excitement. “I must press you once more to consider allowing me to accompany you.” 

You flash him a sweet smile, “Not this time, but I promise I’ll bring you a gift if I find anything magical.” 

Gale’s smile fades as he watches you turn and walk away from him. He knows why you’re distant. He fucked up…Badly. He doesn’t know what he expected to happen when he had looked in your tent. Perhaps some perverse part of him had clung to the fleeting hope you’d offer your pretty hand to him and invite him to your bedroll. It was a foolish notion, one he spends most of the day beating himself up over. 

“Damnit, I am Gale of Waterdeep! I can fix this,” he utters to himself as he slams closed the book he’d tried to distract himself with and stands from the stone bench he’d been resting on. 

“Oh, talking to ourselves now, are we?” Astarion teases him gently. 

Gale looks at the spawn, who sits upon the cushions by his tent mending one his shirts. “Merely offering myself encouragement,” he brushes off the comment. 

When you arrive back to camp, you look defeated and forlorn. Your skin is matted with dirt and blood, thankfully not your own. Gale approaches with a steaming bowl of stew he’d prepared for you. 

“Dinner, my lady?” he offers. 

“I’d rather have a bath,” you sigh. “But the stew will do.” 

“Ah, not to worry. A bath can also be arranged!” 

You smile softly, finding peace in his presence in spite of everything else. You take the bowl from his hands and take the seat he offers you at his tent. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t find anything,” you say as you begin eating. “I know I promsied to bring you back anything magical I found.” 

Gale chuckles softly, “It’s quite alright. I’m just glad you’ve returned in one piece.” 

“Thanks,” you smile softly and continue eating the stew. It’s delicious and earthy. 

Once you’re finished eat, Gale takes the bowl from you. When he comes back, he offers you a hand. 

“Now, I believe I promised you a bath,” he smiles softly. 

“Indeed you did.”

You follow him as he leads you to a secluded clearing in the forest, far from camp. With a few acts of magic, he conjures a hot bath for you. Then, he conjures a partition and a seat for himself on the other side to allow you some privacy. 

“Go on then,” he smiles as he takes his seat. 

“This is amazing, Gale! You’re the best,” you kiss his cheek quickly then wince when you realize how filthy you are. “Sorry.” 

“No need for apologies,” he smiles kindly.

Behind the partition, you undress carefully before sinking into the warm bath. Gale’s ears perk at the gentle, pleasured sigh you release as the hot water soothes your aching muscles. 

“It feels nice,” you say happily. 

“I’m glad,” he clears his throat. “Is there anything you need?” 

You smirk as you think of what to say. Then you lean over the edge of the tub just enough to look past the partition. 

“You could join me,” you offer. 

Gale instantly is on his feet, “Are you certain?” 

“Yes,” you look up at him as you sit up in the tub to reveal your chest. His eyes are on your breasts immediately. His cheeks flush as he looks away. You giggle before you continue, “After last night, I think we both need this.” 

Without more prompting, he begins shedding his clothes. You eye him appreciatively. Your eyes trail from his chest to his soft tummy, then focus on his trembling hands opening his trousers. He blushes at the boldness of your gaze. He braces himself for your reaction as he opens his pants and pushes them down. You gasp and when he looks up you’re biting your lip in a way he finds so damn cute. 

“Come to me,” you beg. 

He sinks into the tub in front of you. Greedy hands reach across the water to grab your waist and pull you closer to him. 

“I’ve dreamt of this moment,” he whispers before leaning in to catch your lips. 

His kiss is sloppy and needy from over a year of pent up need. He’d forgotten the pleasure of kissing another mortal. Soft, warm lips; the eagerness that makes kisses clumsy, such things can so easily be forgotten by the gods and therefore by those who find themself bedded with one. 

“You are beautiful,” he whispers against your mouth. He relishes the warmth of your breath against his mouth. 

“I think you’re beautiful too,” you whisper, your voice filled with reverence. Such tenderness is something he’s not used to. You cup his cheek, soothing your thumb along the corner of his mouth and then over his laugh lines. You lean in to kiss him again.

With tentative slowness, he cups your breasts. You moan into his kiss as he kneads the supple flesh, his thumbs dragging across your nipples. Fuck, he’s so hard already he feels like a fool. Just the thought of you is enough to arouse him, so to now have you this way makes him feel rabid. 

“Please tell me if I go too fast,” he says between kisses. “I don’t want to ruin this.” 

“You won’t.” 

You move closer to straddle him, eliciting a soft gasp from him. His hands move down to squeeze your ass gently. You grind against him, dragging his hard length against your core. Gale whines at the contact. 

Your lips crash into a heated kiss again. Your tongues rub together in sensual exploration. Tender fingers tangle in his hair, tugging ever so slight to make him whimper against your mouth. His hips buck against you, seeking more friction. 

“I need you,” he pants.

Lifting yourself slightly, you reach down to grasp his cock gently. You guide him to your entrance. 

“S-slow down,” he whines. “I haven’t touched you yet. You’re not ready…”

“I’m ready,” you assure him. The need has been stewing within you for so long, you’re more aroused than you thought possible. You sink onto him slowly, moaning as his thick cock fills your core. 

“Oh gods,” he grips tightly on your ass. “You feel…divine.” 

You press your forehead to his as you begin riding him. Water sloshes out of the side of the tub from the movements of your bodies. The night is quiet except for your heavy breaths mixing with Gale’s quiet whimpers. He leans back against the tub and looks at you as though you’ve gifted him the night sky. 

“Gale,” you moan. “I’m so close.” 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers. 

He reaches between your bodies and begins rubbing your clit, infusing a bit of Weave in his touch to enhance your pleasure even more. The feeling is intensely pleasant. Your skin grows hotter with lust as you quicken your pace. When your orgasm washes over you, it’s like the Weave from his fingers surges through your entire body. 

The way your walls tighten around him sends Gale over the edge before he has time to warn you. His nails dig into the fat of your hips, and he throws his head back as he fills you to the brim with his seed. 

“Damnitall,” he whines. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

“It’s okay,” you caress his chest as you slow yourself to a stop until you’re seated on his lap. He clings to you, holding you close to his body. 

“I love you,” he pants softly as he rests his head on your breasts. “I adore you. Every inch of you, every breath you take is a gift to me and I’ll be damned to think I deserve it.” 

“I love you too, Gale.” 

You hold him against your chest until the night feels cold. You pull away, sharing nervous smiles with him as you both get out of the bath and dress again. 

“May I sleep with you in your tent tonight?” Gale asks shyly. 

“And every night after.” 

[loveliestlovelygirl]

cashmere, cologne, & white sunshine | 𝟙

money is the anthem, god, you're so handsome

dilf!finnick x nanny!reader

synopsis: you arrive at the odair estate for your final interview with finnick's mother mrs. odair. when she offers you the job on the spot, you're so surprised. quickly, you learn that the children might be a challenge for you, but finnick's support and kindness is enough to cheer you on. it seems he even wants to get close to you...

w.c: 2.7k

highlights: {minors dni} extreme wealth, nepotism, children & childcare, flirting, a hint of suggestive content near the end, slow burn romance, power imbalance

table of contents | 𝟚 {coming soon}

You had never considered yourself to be the kind of person who falls for their employer. Not even coworkers. Out of the myriad jobs you picked up here and there to finance college and now grad school, never once did you develop romantic feelings in a professional setting.

But the Odair Estate... is an experience, one dreamed up by a romance novelist with its white rose greenhouse, angel water fountains, and vintage cars. And inside, gold and marble, crystal chandeliers, and winding staircases. And yet the majesty of the home could never blot out the brilliance that surrounds the man who resides here. In your gaze, a halo of light outlines his silhouette. You can’t be the only one who sees it. 

He draws you into this fantasy world. A world of sweet pleasure and romance.

Finnick Odair draws you to his arms, to his lips, to his love—all so effortlessly.

“Smith! Come here! You’re going to get jelly all over the furniture!” A handsome man half-dressed, only in a pair of khaki slacks, sprints down the stairs to chase after a small blonde boy with a smear of grape jelly across his cheeks and hands.

You couldn’t help but steal a glance, even during your interview, when you heard the low, melody of his voice. You see the urgency upon his sharpened features as he dashes after the boy, Smith, you assume, who looks to be four years old. Smith leads the chase into the parlor where you are being interviewed.

The greying woman, Mrs. Odair, across from you almost lunges from her loveseat to capture the tiny boy between her two delicate arms. She picks up the child in her arms and seats him on her lap. On the side table is a box of tissues, and she recruits several to wipe the sticky jelly off his face.

“Smith,” she scolds lovingly, “Nana is talking. You are being quite rude. Did you even say hello?”

Smith crosses his arms and pouts his lips, blowing air through them. He looks at you with these big, bright-green eyes surrounded by thick, doll-like lashes, finally acknowledging your presence.

“Hi,” Smith sighs.

“Hello,” you say back.

His nana grounds him, though holding onto his shirt as he tries to scamper away. “Be good!”

A manly laugh to your left startles you. “Smith isn’t interested, Mom.”

 You gaze over your shoulder to watch the man crouch down to his son’s level. “Come now, Smith. You have to get ready for school. I’m already late for work!”

Nana snorts. “Finnie, Daddy understands!”

He gives her, who you assume is his mother, a firm glare. Then he looks to you and smiles. You like his crooked teeth. He offers his hand, and you shake. “I’m Finnick. Thank you for coming to interview with us.” His hand is a little calloused but very warm and very strong.

“Thank you for having me,” you say back, on autopilot because ever since he stepped in, the rest of the world, including your own thoughts, have faded into the background.

He smiles again. “Of course. I typically would be a part of the process, but I’ve got to take Smith and Ruby to school now.” He waves. “Nice to meet you.”

He turns to his mother and mouths something to her with the same smile on his face. You wonder if it’s about you. And you wonder if it’s something nice. You haven’t exactly done anything to offend them... yet.

“Nice to meet you too,” you say a little too late because he’s already walking away with his back turned. You doubt he hears you.

Once Finnick and Smith are upstairs, Mrs. Odair looks back down at her clipboard and continues the interview. Your background is flawless of course. The agency cleared you. You’ve yet to have a single encounter with the law, though you speed often when you’re late to work. To Mrs. Odair, you explain why you are interested in the job, how you need to save up for graduate school for next year’s applications. She seems impressed with your academic successes and your determination to pursue higher education.

While the interview went well, you didn’t expect a job offer on the spot. As you got up to leave, you step over to shake her hand, and she says, “You are taking the job, right?”

The next day you drive back to the estate to begin. Mrs. Odair promised to show you the ropes of taking care of her two precious grandchildren Smith and Ruby the first week of your employment. And you were glad she did that first day. Smith, who you learn is five years old, is more than a handful. Ruby is eight and loves only her daddy.

You park your dated Prius—the paint has finally begun to flake off—on the stone road between the three-tiered fountain and the concrete pathway to the manor. At the door, you rang the bell once, and the butler answered.

He says, “Good day, Miss,” and he shows you to Mrs. Odair’s room.

She’s sipping tea and reading the paper. When she notices your arrival, she stands to greet you. The butler disappears without a sound. It’s impressive.

“So glad you are here. And so punctual!”

“Of course,” you say. Never would you show up late on the first day. “I studied the children’s schedules you sent over last night.”

She claps her hands twice. “Marvelous, dear! When do the children need to leave the house for school?”

Put on the spot, you shift a little. Geez, she’s testing me already.

“Seven-forty-five at the latest. But preferably seven-thirty.”

She smiles. “Good job! We should probably wake the children now. I’ll go up with you today. Wouldn’t want to scare them.”

“You did tell them that I would be here today, right?”

Caught up in her own musings, Mrs. Odair must miss your question because she starts to ramble on about the greenhouse as you leave her guest room. She tells you she’s only staying here for a while because the old nanny quit. There’s bitterness in her tone as she mentions the former employee, and you wonder what exactly happened.

On your way to the stairs, you catch a glimpse of Finnick alone at the dining table for breakfast. He’s also reading the paper like his mother did. His brow is furrowed as he reads. It’s a mystery what he finds so interesting on that paper. He’s so oddly invested.

The stairs creak on your first step, and he looks up from the paper. His smile is immediate and dazzling. “Mother!” he calls. “You didn’t tell me she was here.”

Mrs. Odair rushes into the dining room. “Darling, I didn’t want to interrupt your morning routine.”

Finnick rolls his eyes dramatically. “Ah yes.” He waits for a moment and says, “I haven’t had a routine since the moment Ruby was born, Mother.”

She shrugs. “Maybe with this beauty’s help, you’ll have one.” Mrs. Odair pats your shoulder. “Come along. The children are slow to rise.”

As she drags you along, you can’t help but look at Finnick. He’s ungodly pretty. It almost hurts to look at him. And you find it strange that he’s looking back at you with a vivid curiosity. You chide yourself for ogling him like that. One, he’s sky-high out of your league. Two, he’s employed you. Three, he might not be single. Usually, the second reason to not crush on him would be enough. But your previous bosses have never looked like Finnick.

As you ascend the stairs, the walls are covered in family photographs. They’re clearly arranged by the time they were taken. When you arrive at the second floor, the photos are black and white. Mrs. Odair moves fast for someone her age, and you’re panting as you try to keep up with her. Your vision is slightly blurry when you reach the top.

“Smith’s room is...” she pauses, staring at you, clearly expecting you to recall from the floor plan of the house she also sent you along with their schedules.

You close your eyes for a moment. “First door on the left?”

She claps for you. “Such a smart girl!”

You smile, unsure how to respond to such a compliment.

Entering Smith’s room, the thick curtains are closed, and it’s because of the seashell nightlight that you can see at all. The boy is lying on his stomach on top of all the bed sheets but his head at the wrong end.

“Smith,” his nana calls.

Easily, Smith wakes. He rubs his eyes and sits up. He stares at you for a long time.

“Who’s she?” he asks, pointing right at your face with his tiny index finger.

“This is your new nanny. Isn’t she lovely?” Mrs. Odair gushes about you. Her support is endearing. But you’d be lying if you didn’t find it disconcerting.

Smith crosses his arms. “No!”

“Isn’t she pretty!” Mrs. Odair exclaims to Smith.

“I miss Herbie. Bring him back!” Smith shrieks. “I don’t like her.”

Wrinkled hands on her hips, Mrs. Odair hangs her head in momentary defeat. “Smith, I am so disappointed. You are being very rude.”

The child crosses his arms and sticks his tongue out.

She grasps your forearm. “I’m sorry about Smith. I promise he will come around.” She moves around to his bureau. “I can show you where his uniforms are and the proper way to dress him.”

You watch the elderly woman chase Smith around the room for a minute or two without breaking a sweat. She finally snatches him up in her arms and holds him down on the bed. He restlessly wiggles, trying to get away, but she is strong. Somehow, she manages to dress Smith and she scolds him for behaving dramatically.

“Smith, Daddy will be very, very upset when he hears of your actions.” He remains unfazed, as if discipline is a foreign concept to him. “Now, go down for breakfast.”

When his nana opens the bedroom door, he sprints out like a racehorse. You blink and he is gone.

Mrs. Odair turns to you again and sighs. “He’s a handful. Just like his father.”

“It’s quite alright. He won’t be my first difficult case. I just hope he warms up to me. My last family never did.”

“That’s wonderful for us. We desperately needed a nanny!”

Promptly, she leaves with sudden, passionate intent. And you follow her anxiously.

“What happened to the last one?” you ask.

“Ruby is much easier than Smith,” she halts at a room near the end of the second-floor hallway. 

Just when you think that she didn’t hear your question, she says, “We do not speak of him.”

Stomach dropping, you step back and swallow. “Oh. Oh, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend.”

She scoffs. “He’s not worthy of a mention.” Mrs. Odair quickly breaks into her granddaughter’s room, as if to escape the topic.

Ruby’s room is a true girl’s room. You hardly step past the entrance before you are frozen over in wonder.

Cherry red must be Ruby’s favorite color. Everything is cherry red. The armchair by the column window is topped with cherry red velvet. There are red roses on each nightstand. Her headboard matches the armchair. The curtains match too. Her frilly duvet stands out in ivory lace embroidered with clusters of little cherries.

Ruby’s long red hair fans out over her pillows. She’s a sleeping angel. And you hate to see Mrs. Odair wake her.

Her brown eyes flutter open when her nana taps her on the shoulder. She looks up and her freckled lips smile widely.

“Good morning,” she whispers and stretches. Quickly, she notices you and sits up to talk. “What’s your name?” She has the slightest hint of an English accent.

You reply, hesitantly inching closer to the bed.

Mrs. Odair gets in the way of your conversation, picking up her granddaughter to dress her. She’s eight years old. By this time, you were responsible for dressing yourself for school.

In a few minutes, she dresses Ruby in her private school uniform. Together, you all go downstairs to fetch Smith, and then Mrs. Odair takes them outside to the car where the driver will escort them to school. Once the children leave, Mrs. Odiar pulls you aside to discuss your other duties while the children are away.

Rummaging through the cabinets is not how you planned to spend your afternoon, but you were told to treat the estate just like you would your home. It’s completely new territory to you, much like a castle with so many secrets you’ve yet to uncover. Today, you’re only trying to find the tea. A cup would do you well. Your thoughts have been a little more unorganized than usual. There’s much you must learn about Mrs. Odair’s standards for childcare. She seems to be more involved than the father, which bothers you.

“Left door. Top shelf.”

You glance over your shoulder.

There he is. Smith and Ruby’s father. You scold yourself for already having an opinion about him. You haven’t even known him for a day.

“Excuse me?”

He smiles. “The tea.”

You can’t think to respond in an intelligible way. How’d he know you were looking for the tea?

“Make me a cup while you’re at it.” He looks at you steadily. “If you don’t mind.”

Pulling the correct cabinet open, you see the boxes of tea neatly stacked on top of each other. You select a black tea and pour boiling water over the bags in porcelain mugs. They steep for four minutes.

You pick at your cuticles and glance out the window. Finnick sits at the table on his laptop, typing frantically.

Once the timer goes off, you walk over to the table to hand him his cup of tea. He doesn’t immediately register your action, but when he does, he offers you the biggest smile.

“Thank you. I do appreciate it.” He closes the lid to his laptop and pushes back the chair next to him away from the table with his foot. “Sit. I would like to get to know you.”

Shaking ever so slightly, you situate yourself beside him. He smells of luxury cologne, too expensive for your tastes. In your previous jobs with the agency, the families never were too interested in developing a personal relationship with you.

Finnick rests his chin on an open palm. “You’re really a lifesaver. Work has been a nightmare, and with Herbie gone... I’ve had to also look after Smith and Ruby more.”

For a moment, you narrow your eyes in judgement.

“Before you form opinions about me, let me say, they are my greatest joys. However, working a job that requires eighty plus hours in a week and two kids isn’t as easy as it sounds.”

You set your cup down before you. “Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

Finnick massages his brows. “That’s an understatement. Dad won’t be around forever. I’m to take over the family business. I’m planning to make a lot of changes when that happens. For Smith and Ruby’s sake. They might not want this.” Finnick quickly covers his mouth. “Pretend I didn’t say that.”

You shrug. “I think I might understand. You want them to have a choice.”

Finnick nods. “Don’t tell my mother. You’d get me in trouble.”

You laugh together.

“Snitches get stitches.”

Finnick laughs again. “And disciplined.” He hides his expression as he takes a sip of tea.

Though you don’t quite know what he means by that, you laugh at him anyway. “I don’t think Smith likes me very much.”

“He doesn’t like many people. He’s like me in that regard.” Finnick looks at you. “But I know that if you stick around his feelings will change.”

“I hope that’s true.”

He leans close to you. Your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with his fragrance and his golden warmth. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”

You giggle. “What?”

“Smith likes anyone who will play hide-and-seek with him. That and chocolate chip cookies are the way to his heart.” Finnick pats you on the shoulder. His hands are massive. “Besides, I’m on your side. I’ll put in a good word.” He winks at you, and your heart drops in your chest.

This is... bad. You really shouldn’t be having these feelings for your employer. But his charming nature is hard to resist. He must have lots of girlfriends.

“Thanks,” you whisper, too caught up in your own worries to recognize that he’s flirting with you.

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[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Forest Hid Out (Angst) (18+)

SAINW!Raphael x reader

A/N: Friendly reminder that Same As It Never Was takes place in the year of 2035. That’s 11 years from now. It aired in 2005… That means we’re over half way there… Also, this took me way longer to write than I thought it would, lol.

Takes place in 2033. Raphael is 43, reader is 20.

Warnings: Long, loss of loved ones, masturbation, age difference, tent sex.

You had never experienced a world with a clean sky. A world in which the streets were free for everyone to walk, and no one had to fear the all watchful eye of the leader of the Foot. Your mother however, had. As a child, she told you many stories about a distant time, where the world was safer. Where she and her friends had the freedom to be young, feel their emotions, fall in love, and have a family if they felt pleased to do so. That was the time in which your parents met each other, and that was the time in which your parents met each other. Where they feel loved and dreamed of having a family. But oh, how cruel the world could be at times.

When Shredder took over in 2005, your parents holded any plans for a family. All resources went to survival. There was no way they would bring a child into a world like this. But in 2013, what little luck your parents had left ran out. Your mother fell pregnant, and nine months later, you were born.

The next 20 years were all about survival. You and your family tried your best to stay under the radar, keeping out of any trouble that could cause danger. Your parents made a great deal out of staying away from anything that could be a resistance group, out of fear of what dangers it could bring to your small family. But sadly it wasn’t enough to keep the three of you safe…

Somehow your family managed to get on the bad side of Shredder’s guards. You were not sure how, but none of that mattered now, because it was all gone. The little small hole you and your family had called home was gone. They had burned it all down. And your parents. Gone. Just like your home. Gone.

That night you ran fast. Faster than you had ever done before. You ran and never looked back, remember what your father had told you. Never turn to look at the people running after you. It will only slow you down. So you never looked back, running head first into the thick unkempt forest that had grown around New York City. And that was where you met Raphael.

You had been hiding in the forest for days at that point doing what you could to survive. But you soon found that surviving in the forest was way different than surviving in the crumbling parts of New York City. Raphael found you, hydrated and hungry, tired from days of running and hiding. When you first saw him, you were terrified. You had heard rumors about mutants, but you never thought that you would see one in real life.

Though Raphael didn’t smile much he was friendly to you. He gave you food and water but kept a distance from you. He wasn’t much of a talker and only asked you a few questions. But at the end of the day, he allowed you to follow him back to his camp further into the forest.

Raphael didn’t change much during the first few weeks you stayed with him. He seemed grumpy and at times avoidant, never answering questions about himself. But one thing he did do, was slowly but surely teaching you how to take care of yourself in the forest. As the days and weeks went on, you and Raphael slowly developed a rhythm of life. He would go out and look for food, while you stayed back in the camp, making sure everything stayed in order. But with each passing day, you learned more and more about the man, who you seemed to be living with now. You soon learned that Raphael rarely slept when you did. Each night, as you went to sleep by the campfire, you found that Raphael stayed up. You once asked him about it, to which he mumbled an answer about keeping watch, and with that you decided not to press him any further. But as you went to bed each night, laying down on the thin mattress in the broken tent with the dust blanket Raphael provided you, you found yourself staring at him in secret. Your eyes scanning his features as you wondered about him. His past. His thoughts. His history.

You and Raphael rarely stayed at one place too long, packing up camp every few days before finding a new place. At this point you were getting used to it, letting Raphael decide where to set up your camp next. But there was this one time, you would never forget.

You set up camp not far from a river and followed the routine as usual. Raphael went out to look for food, while you stayed back unpacking the rest and setting up. Nothing out of the ordinary, not even when you ate together later that day. It wasn’t until he decided to go to the river and get cleaned, that you found yourself shocked. You had always known that Raphael was muscular, but when he took off his jacket before diving into the water, you truly realized how toned his was. And that was when it all started running down hill for you.

Suddenly you couldn’t look at Raphael the same way anymore. The way his muscles flexed when he worked out, the grip on his sais when he trained, his small huffs and puffs of annoyance when he walked through the forest with you trailing behind him. It didn’t take long before you started imagining things. How his hands would feel on you, how his huffs and puffs would sound right next to your ear, or how that well toned body would feel above yours. These thoughts slowly build up over time, and before you knew it, you found yourself pleasuring yourself back in the camp, to the thought of Raphael, who at that moment was out on another food hunt.

Raphael soon began to notice a shift in the way you behaved around him. You grew more nervous around him, avoiding his eyes more than usual. For some time he wondered what was going on with you. But he would soon figure out why…

One day, as you were walking through the forest, carrying your tents and bags, Raph spotted something in the sky above you. A drone. Raph was quick, grabbing you in an instant, dropping you and him into a bush, out of view from the drone. It was here, in the bush, closely pressed up against Raphael, that your mind started racing once again. The thought of the danger up ahead, and the thought of Raphael’s hand going just a little lower, touching you in the place you have been dreaming about for so long. And it was here, as Raph watched the drone pass by, that he caught a certain scent emanating from you. That was when it clicked for him. It was why you started acting strange around him.

That night, as you and him set up camp at a new spot, Raph kept an extra close eye on you. He walked every step you took, each move you made, and each time you looked at him, his eyes meeting yours, he could smell it. Strong and sweet. He knew what you were thinking now.

As days passed on, your scent seemed to become a constant for Raph. He started noticing it strongly from the tent, whenever he returned from a food hunt. You no longer just avoided his eyes, but your cheeks gained a light blush every time. And Raph would lie if he said it didn’t do something to him, and soon, he himself started imagining things.

At first, Raph was ashamed by these thoughts. He was double your age. He had taken you in when you were lost and alone. It felt wrong to be imagining you in the way he had started to. But with your aroused scent lingering all over the campsite, and even sticking to Raph’s nostrils whenever he ventured outside the camp. Your light blush, or the small sounds you made when you had a hard time setting up the tent. The tent where Raph could only imagine you laying in and pleasuring yourself. And with that, it didn’t take long before Raph found himself out on a food hunt, pleasuring himself under a three out in the lonely forest, imagining how it would feel to have you wrapped around him instead of his hand.

You and Raphael started dancing around each other on a daily basis, stealing small glances, hoping that the other didn’t notice. This, only fueling both of your thoughts and imaginations, playing out those fantasies on your own whenever you were alone. You, whimpering in a tent, begging imaginary Raphael to make you cum with his tongue, while Raph found himself out in the forest, crouched down on one knee, thrusting into both hands, the thought of how your body would bounce underneath his with every thrust. Both of you could only imagine how it would feel to have each other. But soon, none of you would have to imagine anymore…

You and Raphael had once again set up camp at a new location, having walked a whole day in order to get as far away from your last camp as possible. And you did not set up your camp one minute too early, as the sky soon opened up, letting the rain pour down over you. That sent both you and Raph in a hurry, hiding inside the one and only tent you had - your tent - waiting for the horrid rain to pass. But you soon found that this wasn’t just a quick downpour, but a long one, lasting for much longer than you had expected. This left you and Raph alone together in the small tent. The tent that only you had been using for the past two months, while he would sleep out by the fire. The same tent in which you had been pleasuring yourself to the thought of Raphael, almost everyday at this point. And Raphael could smell it. The scent was strong, hitting him like a wall of bricks the moment he entered the tent. And for the first time since you entered Raphael’s campsite, he found himself nervous around you.

You and Raphael sat in silence, waiting for the rain to pass, trying to focus on the sound of it hitting against the outside of your little dry place. Both of you sat at a distance from each other, trying to avoid any time of contact, both with the eyes and physically. But that did not stop your mind and eyes from wandering to him. You watched his hands, as his middle finger nervously tapped the side of his thigh. You couldn’t stop yourself from wondering how that finger would feel inside you, moving with the same speed in which it tapped against his thigh. And with that thought, you felt your pulse quicken, along with a rush of wetness between your legs. And Raph noticed this, straight away. How your breathing got heavier, and how your arousal somehow grew even stronger. And how your eyes were glued to his finger. Raph did not even have to put two and two together. He knew exactly what was going on.

Looking at you, Raph caught your eyes immediately, his eyes telling you everything he knew. And that knowledge sent shockwaves through your body, pricking at every nerve ending, somehow making the wetness between your legs grow even stronger, making Raph’s nostrils flare, a small low sound vibrating in his chest. He was churring. He was enjoying your scent.

You did not know where the sudden courage came from, nor what happened with that eye contact between the two of you. But suddenly you found yourself sitting on Raphael’s lap, your legs hooked around his hips, your lips connected in a heated kiss, your hands roaming each other’s bodies, the way you had been dreaming about for so long. It was as if your bodies worked per automatic, your hips grinding against each other, seeking friction and pleasure.

Raph’s jacket was off in an instant, his strong arms coming to wrap around you, holding you close, letting his tongue slip into your mouth as you parted your lips to let out a moan, which you gladly accepted.

Your hands moved to your pants, unbuttoning them in a haste. Raph chuckled at your urgency, finding your actions almost adorable, watching the desperation he had dreamed of you showing him. And the sound of him chuckling made you shiver, more sounds escaping you. Never had you thought that you would actually get to hear Raphael chuckle.

Raph helped you get your pants off, before throwing them somewhere in the tent, ready to be worried about later. But at that moment, all he wanted to think about was sure sweet core, the heat radiating onto his thigh.

Cupping your chin with one hand, Raph pulled you in for another heated kiss, while his other hand rested on your hip, playing with the hem of your underwear. You hummed against Raph’s lips, as he used his hand to push you down onto his thigh, making you grind against his thigh muscles. You let out a small moan when you felt just how toned his thigh was. Hard as a rock.

Raph growled at the sound of your moan, his hand grabbing a hold of your underwear before pushing them damn over you bum. You once again lifted yourself off of his lap, in order to get them off of your legs. Raph watched as you got them off, feeling his hard member presse against the inside of his cloaca. For a moment he wondered if he should take his time with you. There was no saying when the rain would stop, so the two of you could be having all the time in the world. You two weren’t busy.

Raph helped you back onto his lap where you intently connected your lips once more, biting lightly onto his lip. Raph made a sound like a wounded animal, his hands grabbing onto the plush flesh of your thighs. You wrapped your arms around Raph, holding onto him as you grinded against him once more. With one hand Raph let go of your thigh in order to get into contact with his cloaca, pulling his large member out, aching and throbbing just for you.

“Are you ready?”, Raph asked, tapping the head of his penis against your soaked entrance.

“Yes”, you whispered, your voice already giving up on you out of pure need.

“Good girl”, Raph smirked, taking in the feeling of you shivering against him. He knew you would like being called his good girl.

Keeping a firm grip on your hip, Raph lined himself up with your entrance, before ever so slowly pushing into you, stretching you out around him. You let out a louder than intent moan, resting your forehead against Raph’s shoulder as he slowly pushed you further down onto his member, letting out a few curses over how tight you were.

Once Raph was as far in as he could go, he let you sit on him for a moment, getting used to his size inside of you. The only thing he could hear at that moment was your whimpering moans, along with the sound of the rain against the tent.

When Raph was sure that you were ready, he held onto your hips with both hands, before lifting you slightly up off of him, before pulling you back down, entering you once again. You cried out in pleasure, latching on to Raph’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. Raph increased the speed until he had you bouncing on his member, the sound of your skin slapping against his echoing around you.

You and Raph were far from quiet, moaning and groaning, happy to finally be living out the fantasy you had been having for so long now.

“Harder, Raph”, you moaned, leaning a little back from him.

“Harder?”, Raph asked, a devilish smirk on his lips. “I will give it to you harder”.

The next thing you knew you were laying on your back in the tent, your shirt pushed up over your chest, your legs hanging over Raph’s shoulders, swinging with every thrust he plowed into you. That was exactly what you needed, the tightening feeling in your abdomen growing stronger and stronger. You were getting close, and Raph could feel it. He could feel how the muscles of your cunt tightened around his member, pushing himself closer and closer to his own high.

You started arching your back, your legs tensing on Raph’s shoulders, your eyes shut as your high came closer and closer, until you finally came on him. Raph let out an animalistic growl, his thrusts becoming erratic as he helped you ride through your high, getting closer and closer to his own. It didn’t take long before he came, pulling out of you shooting his pearly white ropes onto your abdomen, letting out a moan of relief.

“Shit”, Raph sighed, laying down next to you. “That was exactly what I needed”. Rolling onto his side, Raph wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer, not caring about the last bits of him still resting on your lower stomach. “I hope it wasn’t too much”.

“Not at all”, you smiled, curling up against him, hiking your naked leg up over his hip. “It was exactly what I needed too”.

“Good”, Raph said, resting his head back against the tent floor, listening to the rain that was still falling. “Because with the rain still going, we won’t be going anywhere any time soon”.

You couldn’t help but giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips. “That’s fine by me”.

[chlorinecake]

PART 3: GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine

Ｂｌｏｏｄ ＯｎＩｃｅ | 얼음에 피 - a park sunghoon ff

⚡︎ cw: mentions of suicide and anxiety, bullying, violence involving guns and knives, character deaths, swearing, heavy petting/kissing, domestic abuse themes

⚡︎ genre: horror, psychological thriller, slow burn, angst

⚡︎ summary: new relationships blossom as you try to lead a normal life proceeding your abuser’s death, but what happens once a series of chilling phone calls disrupts your peace again?

⚡︎ wc: 15k (have fun with this hour long read lol) ~ previously...

❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ now and then

Since the fateful day of his death, Sunghoon Park was infamously known for the heinous acts he so gallantly committed out of love for his late little sister.

For the most part, the identity’s involved in Sunghoon’s amateur high school killings to his eventually more-experienced university slaughters were publicly announced.

Those victims being Cha Jun-Hwan, Nakamura Kazuha, Maddison Dupont, as well as her twin brother Maxwell, and a few unnamed others.

News outlets gave you, Sunghoon’s deadly obsession in this horror story, the nickname V, as you played the role of his only victor, escaping the torture fest you endured for three months while his other victims could barely last an hour against his signature weapon:

A Buck 120 Hunting Knife.

Memories of the events that Sunghoon sent you through roamed within the darkness behind your drowsy eyes, and it didn’t help that he practically haunted every other aspect of your waking life.

You smelt him after scrubbing yourself near clean of your own skin.

You could hear his daunting voice in stolen moments of silence.

You saw his face behind every masked murderer in your nightmares.

His oh-so-handsomely crafted face.

You could only imagine how many more people would exalt his name as a Dahmer or Bundy after seeing it.

That kind of thing always bothered you...seeing people on social media praise murderous monsters as if they were worthy of admiration.

In the beginning, you always thought that “V” was short for victim, and it honestly enabled you to feel like one.

That is, up until Dr. Lee, who you always just called Heeseung, stepped in to help you recover.

Or… more accurately, forget.

"How long are you gonna let Sunghoon control your life?" He'd ask you in half-whisper, to which you'd only shrug in response.

It wasn't like you didn't want to get over everything that happened.

Hell, if it were possible, you’d want a complete brain-wipe of Sunghoon, but Heeseung tried everything that was clinically moral to help you.

Your treatment started with cognitive behavioral strategies that helped you associate your fears with the strength it took for you to both withstand and overcome them in reality.

Next, you went through imagery rehearsal therapy to get over the nightmares.

Multiple times a week, Heeseung would ask you to describe your nightmares in detail, drawing pictures or writing out the most vivid scenes as needed. Then, you would write out a changed version of the dream, mentally rehearsing the new imagery until your nightmares were replaced by it.

In all of your illustrated revisions, Sunghoon’s face was completely blurred out in black crayon, because in an ideal world, you wouldn't want to remember that face ever again.

And so, you didn't.

It was a rare medical phenomenon that your treatment resulted in you fully forgetting the face of your humanoid fear, but you still weren't quite ready to live normally.

Despite three months of therapy having passed, Heeseung still wanted to work with you in recovery for at least another half-year.

And this is the exact path that led to you and Heeseung developing into something a little more than friends. Something like occasional dinner dates with equally occasional kissing afterward.

On the lips, of course. That's where he liked kissing you the most.

Currently you were marked at three weeks on a prescribed medication for PTSD and anxiety patients, and you can't remember when you felt better.

There were a few side effects to the medicine, like declined appetite and wonky periods, but you’d rather take that over a potentially worse lifestyle without the meds.

You were finally getting your life back, and with Sunghoon officially out of the picture and new friends by your side, you had nothing to worry about.

Right?

➠ monday

2:11pm

The ways of a Café Royale worker came naturally to you, which is why your boss (aka the café owner) put you in charge of training the new employee, Lee Hyun-Seo, but you just called her Leeseo.

You had been training the young girl for over two weeks, yet she still struggled with the entry level basics, like handling restaurant grade coffee makers or properly handling a broom.

Despite how much of a slow learner she was, you and the staff decided to keep little Leeseo around.

One of the reasons being that her parents were struggling financially, and the girl just wanted to lend a hand with some of their bills.

The other reason was that Leeseo had a way of charming people, staff and costumers included—like a vessel of sunshine, she almost always had a smile on her face, and you commended her for that given everything she was going through at home.

“I can help!” Leeseo beamed, leaping to take the second tray of food and drinks you carried.

“Thanks, kiddo,” you chirped, finally using two hands to hold the tray.

“Ugh, what must I do for you to stop calling me that?” She whined, placing the steaming hot mugs on a costumer's table.

“Focus,” you said, pointing out how she nearly spilled a cup of black tea on someone’s lap.

You beelined back to the front counter, grabbing the plate of assorted sandwiches that just came out. “That’s for table 16,” Yunjin said, “and this is for the hottie at 23,” she continued, handing you a folded napkin.

“What, did he ask for math help?” You teased, observing her phone number jotted down in blue ink on the piece of paper.

“Just give it to him, alright?” She pleaded with frustration, turning back around to prepare the upcoming orders.

You hit up table 16 first before making your way toward table 23, where Nate was sitting. He was the same guy with dyed silver hair you met a few weeks ago, and since then, he had become a regular costumer at Café Royale.

The most you knew about him was that he enjoyed writing creatively, and was working on a piece to enter for a contest. He was also very passionate about his afternoon dose of caffeine, which you find rather odd at best…

You’d give it to Nate that he was a particularly attractive guy, but not worth doing anything unprofessional like… I don’t know, passing a customer your phone number at work?

“Good afternoon, Nate,” you smiled, handing him the napkin to which he immediately noticed its inky etchings.

“Damn, now I’m offended that you think I’m single,” he joked, eyes following the series of numbers on the paper.

“Trust me, I’m not your secret admirer,” you replied, pulling out your note pad to write, “What can I get for you today?”

“Oh, I had something at home. I just like writing here sometimes,” he smiled, closing his computer.

“Well, it must be something juicy if you won’t even let me see it.”

“Ugh, it’s in draft form right now! Give me a few days and I’ll be happy to show yo—“

“Focus, ____,” Leeseo interrupted as she walked by, showing off the $50 tip she just nabbed from table 16.

You sighed, both at Leeseo’s petty remark, your loss on 50 bucks, and Nate’s ability to enthrall your attention.

“Good luck editing,” you smiled, closing your notepad before getting back to work.

Nate had become a usual costumer ever since the first day you met about three months after you started working here.

You two grew particularly close, especially once he started staying back at the cafe during your night shifts to walk you to your car.

Whenever the sun set a few hours before your shift ended, he noticed how nervous you looked... staring outside the French café windows as if the starry night whispered threats.

If it weren’t for Heeseung, you wouldn’t even have a personal car to get you from point A to point B. He gave it to you as a gift once you started working.

He was able to pick you up for the first week of your job, but after that, he couldn’t make the commitment anymore given his own chaotic work schedule.

So, in typical Heeseung fashion, he bought you a whole freaking car, and he wouldn’t let you refuse his offer under any circumstances.

“Just take the damn keys, ____,” he’d chuckle, watching as you shyly did just that, walking over to the vehicle and taking your first spin.

Back to Nate though, he had a funny way of telling you “bye” on nights like those.

"Watch your back," he'd say, waving with arguably the most attractive smirk you've ever seen as you’d pull out of the driveway and head home safely.

Of course, you'd never admit that first part to Heeseung.

You read the order note that Yunjin just wrote from the last costumer: Two iced vanilla lattes with four mini dessert pops. As a waiter, you already expected that you’d do a lot more floor work than just placing food and drinks on a table here and there, so you took it upon yourself to help Yunjin out by fixing this order.

“Thank you BIG TIME,” Yunjin exclaimed, wiping off the counter near the register.

“Of course, you’ve stirred enough drinks for the both of us.”

“Pfft, I was talking about passing Nate my number, Strawberry Shortcake. Do you think he’ll actually call back?”

“Hmm, probably not… I think he said something about having a girlfriend already?”

“Liar! You berries and cream filled liar,” Yunjin teased, tossing a handful of blueberries at you.

“That doesn’t sound very PG,” you giggled back to her, eating one of the blueberries that landed on your workspace.

"Hey," Leeseo said shyly, tapping you on the shoulder, “I’m gonna step out for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Mhm, you can’t fool me, iPad kid. Now focus, remember?”

“I am focusing, ____… Its just some girls came in from my school and I really don’t want them to mess with me at my job.”

You handed Leeseo a pair of tongs to grab the cake pops you needed, “I didn’t see any girls, Leeseo.”

The metal tongs clinked against the glass cake pop case, “I told you about them last week, ____… plus, girls like them are pretty hard to miss,” she whispered, pointing her head in their direction.

Pretty hard to miss? Yes, but basic modern day teenagers nonetheless? Double yes.

You tried not to make your peeking look so obvious, so you finished up the lattes and brought them to Leeseo’s classmates to get a closer look.

From their conversation, you could tell the two girls were talking crap about someone, thanks to stream of swear words that flew from their lip-sticked mouths. You placed their order down on the table, but they ignored you, daring to raise their voices even louder so you couldn’t get a “You’re welcome” in.

Yikes, you thought to yourself, thinking about the way your high school self, Maddison, and Kaz used to bash Wonyoung while she was in the same room.

“Aiko’s the short one with the eyeliner, and Maeve's the taller one with pink hair. Don’t let their looks fool you though… Aiko’s the real monster.” You remembered Leeseo telling you when you drove her home after training one time.

That was the same day Leeseo mixed up more than four orders and accidentally sweared in front of a little kid. He asked her for a breakfast croissant to which she replied, “Sorry, but you’re shit out of luck bud, we just ran out.”

Harmless mistake, I know, but the kid’s mother wasn’t too forgiving about it.

“Those girls from my school have been blowing up my phone with hate messages since I left school today… I swear they have nothing better to do with themselves…”

“And does that explain why you said “shit” to a little kid,” you asked.

“N-no, but, they’ve got my head in a bad place… My focus is probably ruined for the rest of the day now,” she sighed, washing the chocolate from her hands before sitting on the kitchen floor.

Leeseo found herself in the same place today, sitting on the kitchen floor as you brought Aiko and Maeve their cake pops before joining Leeseo on the ground.

“I knew a girl just like you when I was in high school,” you began, voice almost falling to a whisper, “Much like those girls out there, me and my friends treated people terribly, especially this one person.”

“So then what happened?” Leeseo asked, looking at you, even though your gaze fell to your lap, stuck in a daydream.

Memories that part of you wished you could forget resurfaced in your mind. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tightening your grip around nothing before answering.

“She killed herself.”

Leeseo’s eyes widened a little at your words, her chest raising differently as her breathing style changed.

You could tell she was shocked, as would anyone who heard such a thing.

She remained quiet as if waiting for you to say something else, and so you did.

“Hey, if you’d feel better hiding in the kitchen until they leave, you can.”

She looked up and smiled. “Thanks, ____!” She beamed, reaching in her pocket for her smartphone.

“Nuh uh, you’re still on shift, buddy, now help Yunjin out with the dishes!” You chuckled, heading to the front to deliver more orders.

Yunjin was the only other person you had told about Wonyoung and everything else.

It wasn’t intentional, but after having one to many egg nog shots at a Café Royale employee's function, you confessed as she drove you home.

You had grown comfortable with Yunjin knowing that dark part of your past, and even now with Leeseo, given that you’d always viewed her like a little sister.

Beep, beep.

It was a reminder on your phone that you'd set yesterday, saying that you had to meet with Heeseung at his place around 5pm.

Maybe the girls won't notice if I slip out for the day, you mischievously thought to yourself, hanging your work apron over the wall coat hook before sneaking out of the café undetected.

7:03pm

Traffic had you running late to Heeseung's place, but he wasn't to upset about it, given that he got held back at work an extra hour to sort files in his office. Needless to say, your dinner "date" ended up starting a little later than desired.

Even so, Heeseung made an effort to keep the night special, but it seemed as though your mind was in a different place at the time.

“You’ve barely touched your pasta,” Heeseung nudged, thinking of any way to start a conversation amidst the awkward silence.

“Oh, sorry! Yunjin brought me a coffee so my appetite’s a bit mild.”

“That’s okay, I’m really just trying to get you to say something,” he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his lovesick eyes. He just stared down at his plate, twirling the saucy red noodles around his fork.

“Uhm… well, how was work?” You tried, cringing at yourself.

Heeeseung put his fork down, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin, “____, why’re you acting like a stranger all of a sudden? You’re always comfortable talking to me. Is it because I was late today?”

Your gaze fell to his lap where he sat with parted legs. Shit, stop peeking, you internally scolded yourself.

You're not sure what made you feel this way tonight, but your mind was on everything else but the pasta in front of you.

Was it the way he decided to cuff his sleeves today? No, he always wore his shirts like that. Maybe it was the way he occasionally tugged at the tie around his neck, or the little breaths he'd let out each time you crossed and uncrossed your legs, or the smirk he'd flash whenever you failed to hold eye contact with him for longer than five seconds.

“So I see you’d rather daydream about my dick than have a simple conversation with me,” He said, voice sounding offended yet prideful at the same time.

You shook your head at his words, biting your lip to keep in the embarrassed laugh that dared to slip past your mouth, “Sure, but you don’t have to say it like that.”

“Why not? I can tell you liked it,” He pressed, talking a sip of the white grape champagne in his wine glass, coating his peachy lips.

In all honesty, you've been sexually attracted to Heeseung since you first met him during one of the darkest stages of your life, and you couldn't help but feel bad about it.

Of course you appreciated him for other reasons, but at the end of the day, he’s your crush and mental health care provider all at once. You dreaded the idea of adding “fuck buddy” to that mix, and frankly, you weren’t sure you'd be able to handle it, despite already testing that boundary a few months ago at his freaking job of all places.

“There are just times when I feel like what you said might be true,” you answered, finally feeling comfortable enough to look him in the face.

“Times where you'd rather daydream about my dick than talk to me?”

“Heeseung!!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” He chuckled, his contagious bright smile making you laugh a little yourself, "So what is it?... That happens in your daydreams, I mean," he went on.

"In detail or the safe for work version?" You giggled again, honestly trying not to engage in his flirting for the sake of your own existence.

"I never noticed how pretty your laugh is when you're nervous and trying to hide it," he smiled, tilting his head at you.

"Oh and where'd you find that one, in a Rizzler's 101 Guide?" You teased, nudging his knee with yours.

"No, I really mean it," he smiled again, getting up from his seat and meeting you on the couch.

Gently cupping your face in his hands, he pulled you in for a kiss, which quickly led to a full blown make out session. You don't think you've ever felt hornier while kissing someone as you let out sounds you didn't even know you could make.

Heeseung's hand got lost under your shirt while yours were gripping at his neck, pulling him impossibly close to you. Your legs were hooked around his waist as he softly grinded against you, both of you feeling light headed just from the simple touches and sensations.

You wondered what it’d be like to go all the way, so you took off your top, and he followed after you, kissing down your neck as you clenched around nothing.

The warmth of his breath against your cold skin sent shivers down your spine, your fingers combing through his hair as if trying to calm his growing desire for you.

The little nips he left on your neck reminded you of the way Sunghoon used to wake you up from naps, but you tried to stay in the moment.

Heeseung held your waist with one hand while he slipped past your panties with the other, looking at your face for some kind of cue before touching you any further.

You let out a whine, feeling his fingertip barely graze your sweet spot before he started to rub it in circles.

“I love the little sounds you make for me,” he whispered, inserting two fingers with ease given how wet you were.

The words of Sunghoon echoed in the back of your mind, which was almost worse than actually seeing his face. As much as you wanted this moment with Heeseung, your mind was letting your past get in the way of it.

You felt your heart beat increase with each thrust of Heeseung’s fingers, his pouty lips latched to your skin as if he were a leech.

It all felt so good, but every time Sunghoon crossed your mind, you felt like screaming.

You tried keeping your eyes open so your mind couldn’t deceive you with images, but a certain thought resurfaced when you felt Heeseung pulling down your pants.

I’ll show you just how deranged I am.

“Stop! Stop it! G-get away from me!” You thrashed beneath Heeseung, causing him to jerk away immediately. He stared back at your shaking body in shock, trying to figure out what just happened and why.

“_-____, are...are you okay?” He asked sincerely, looking into your now teary eyes.

Your chest kept heaving as a mix of scary emotions started to build up at your core. “I’m sorry, Heeseung,” you sniffled, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just... I can’t do this.”

“W-what do you mean? Can’t do what?” He asked again, putting his shirt back on and passing you yours.

“The touching stuff... I just-" you sighed, preparing yourself for his response, “I couldn't stop thinking about him.”

Heeseung knew exactly who you meant, despite you not being able to say his name.

“I understand what you’ve been through, ____, but I hate that it has to affect us even now. I thought you said you got over all that...”

You scoffed at his words, “Aren’t you the doctor here? That’s how trauma works, I’m afraid.”

You reached for your own top, snaking your head through the hole and fixing yourself on the couch.

He stared back at the pasta that now set awkwardly on the coffee table before you. As if your words went through one ear and out the other, he went on to ask, “Is there someone else?”

“What? No, Heeseung, I would never do that to you.”

“I get that, but would it really be all that bad? It’s not like we’re officially in a relationship.”

“Heeseung—”

“I know we’ve been through a lot together, and if you’re not ready for this kind of thing, I’ll move on, love.”

“Just because I’m not ready to be intimate with you?”

It was strange how just a few moments ago you were giggling only to now be turning cheeks at each other. The room fell silent for a few moments before Heeseung got up from his seat and handed you your purse, “You can go now.”

You blinked in disbelief, “You're kidding, right?”

“No. I want you out of here for the night. You need some space.”

“Are you sure this is about what I need?” You asked as he walked you to the door.

“Thanks for coming over. Have a good night, ____.” He whispered, not meeting your face before he closed the door behind you.

You felt confused as you stood outside his apartment, feet practically glued to his "Welcome In" doormat.

The irony, you thought to yourself.

You didn't wanna think about if there was something you could've said or done to change the way things went tonight.

Another oddity was that even though Heeseung was persistent on you continuing with therapy because he knew you weren't ready, he somehow expected you to at least trust him in that moment.

Maybe it was time for you to accept the fact that you'd never be normal... not after Sunghoon.

8:22pm

You went straight home after your argument with Heeseung, that is, if you could even call it that.

By now, you were very aware that guilt was one of your strongest emotions, so you felt the need to call Heeseung and leave things on a more positive note.

Or perhaps it was the only way you could try killing off the awkwardness burning in your veins.

Kicking your shoes off, you didn't bother to wash up before plopping your body on the couch, crossing your feet and typing in your phone password.

You went to your "Favorite" contacts list and pressed Heeseung's name, staring at the call option for a few moments before finally clicking it.

Boop... the dial tone rang.

Boop... the sound lingered a few more times before going to the voicemail option.

Ouch.

You instead opted to leave a voice message, rambling some simple (and apologetic) nonsense and pressing send.

He must've read it because three, hopeful dots appeared as you awaited his response... that never came.

Ring, ring, ring, your phone blared, an unknown caller daring to interrupt your silly love affair.

"Ugh," you sighed, hanging up before the number called again.

Ring, ring, ring.

We can all take a guess what your mind immediately thought of at the familiarly ominous ringtone.

Not wanting to feed into your own cowardice, you answered the call, hoping that it would somehow grant you a fleeting feeling of control.

"Long time no see, ____," the raspy voice slithered from the other end of the phone, laced with a craving for mischief.

You were a bit startled by the caller using your name.

"Sorry, but you're a little late with the Halloween pranks. Try again next year-"

"I was thinking, we should play a game."

Oh dear, not this shit again, you thought to yourself.

"Uh, I think you've got the movies mixed up, buddy. That line's from Saw," you replied, fighting back the giggle that danced in your throat.

The old you would've been trembling from a call such as this, but given the circumstances, you were glad for anything that would distract from your cringey thoughts of Heeseung.

"Hmm, I see you're still the scary movie type?" The voice snickered.

"Not at the moment. Right now, I'm more interested in this game of yours. Though, if it involves stripping, you can count me out early."

"Heheheh, don't worry. There's no stripping this time. I've learned from experience that you're not down for that kind of thing. On-top-of-the-clothes fun was always your favorite."

Your jaw clenched at his statement, making you curious to know who was behind the call this time, but you continued to play along.

"Okay, I'm listening."

"Perfect. It's called guess who's gonna get skewered like a fucking pig?"

"Whoo, we're jumping straight into the extremes, huh?"

"Absolutely! Extreme is my favorite," the voice went on, but you were now (re)distracted by thoughts of Heeseung, dumbly staring at the three dots on your phone screen that had yet to dissolve into a message.

"Hey, you still there?"

"Oop- Sorry... you must be boring me, I guess," you teased.

"You guess what?"

"Oh, I forgot we were playing a game," you chirped, sitting up straight now as if the caller was right in front of you, "Hmm, do I get any hints?"

"No, you're smart enough to guess without any."

"Fine," you exhaled, assuming that the answer was yourself. Preparing to perform, you cleared your throat in case you had to fake-cry, "My guess is some guy who probably watched the Scream movies one too many times."

"Well well well. Has my life been threatened by the very person who failed to take it?"

"W-what did you just say?"

"Aww, you almost sound excited about that. Do you miss me, princess?"

"Uhh, I don't know what you're talking about," your voice cracked at the dreadful nickname, a fear you haven't felt in months rumbling in your chest.

"Do you miss the way I made you feel?"

"I hope this isn't your idea of a funny prank, because the humor died after you asked about scary movies."

"You have a strange obsession with death, don't you ____? Answer me this: when was the last time you visited my grave? Or my sister's grave?"

"You're sick," you spat, raising your voice a little louder than intended.

"Mhm. That just means we have a lot more in common than you thought. Anyways, should I knock or just carve my way in-"

Boop, boop.

You cut the call, immediately blocking the number and running to your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

As if it were a shield, you hopped in your bed, tucking the covers over your head and squeezing your eyes shut.

Albeit, you were now well distracted from any thoughts of Heeseung, but unfortunately, something far more daunting than a pasta party gone wrong took its place.

➠ tuesday

9:15am

You had work at the café early the next morning, and didn't get much sleep after that unexpected call. To no surprise, Heeseung never texted you back, but again, that's not really something you were worried about at the time.

Nate was already at the café when you got there, earlier than his usual time, but you took it upon yourself to serve him before Yunjin could step in to play the role of her own cupid.

"Morning, Nate! Don't tell me you already had something before you came here," you teased.

"Hey, and no, not this time heheheh."

That laugh... were you being paranoid?

"I'll have a black coffee... and maybe something sweet if you wanna surprise me," he smiled before noticing that you looked a little off, "Hey, is everything alright? You don't look too good."

You shifted in your stance, trying to stay in character of the happy waitress he knew you to be, "Oh- yeah, I just didn't get much rest last night. Who knew caffeine was so anti-sleep?"

Ding.

The café door bell rang as a trio of elderly ladies walked in... the same ones Yunjin accused of Karenism after you abandoned ship yesterday.

You didn't want her to have to serve them so you turned in Nate's order so you could take their's.

Leeseo wasn't in work today because she had school, so some guy (who's name you could barely remember) took her place, and boy was he a lifesaver in the kitchen.

He had the older ladies and Nate's order made within minutes, handing you the trays in each hand as Yunjin busied herself doing who knows what.

"Here’s your black coffee and a tiramisu square,” you chirped, placing the mug and plate beside his laptop, “I know you’ve tried this one before, but I really think it suits you.”

“Aww, thanks, ____,” he pouted playfully, “How can I ever repay you for such kind deeds?”

Your gaze immediately fell to Nate’s delicate fingers that rested idly near his keyboard.

“Your story. I wanna see it,” you said plainly, tucking the serving tray under your arm and peeking over his shoulder.

“You’re joking,” he said, slightly closing his computer.

“Aww, c’mon! I’ve been dying to read it! If you make me wait any longer I might literally combust!”

“Fine, okay, I’ll show you,” he sighed, playfully rolling his eyes, “but only because I wouldn’t want anyone to clean up your gory remains.”

He moved his coffee out of the way to prevent any accidents, slowly lifting his computer back up for you to see, “Promise you won’t judge me? Like I said, it’s in draft form—”

“I promise, Nate, now stop stalling,” you giggled, squinting your eyes at the tiny words that filled the screen.

You caught sight of the words ghost face, suicide, and revenge almost immediately, your body language clearly exhibiting how you felt on the inside.

“Is it really that bad,” the platinum haired boy asked with furrowed brows, taking in your now disgusted demeanor.

“I… this is unbelievable…”

“Just give it a chance, ____! Trust me, the plot gets better in the next chapter, when the main character finally realizes that the guy behind the mask was the party host all along—”

"What are you, some kind of sick freak?” You interrupted him, careful not to show your anger as you closed his computer shut.

“I… I’m sorry, what?”

“How much do you know?" You went on, slightly raising your voice.

“____, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he almost laughed, trying to shake off how nervous you were making him feel.

“You’re the pervert who called me last night, aren’t you?”

“____, please calm down, you’re scaring me,” he pleaded, standing up from his seat and placing his hands on your shoulders.

Everything in you wanted to push him away, but once the glares from the surrounding costumers and Yunjin entered your field of vision, you simply backed away, swallowing the anger that bubbled within you.

You reached to take off your apron to which Yunjin immediately scolded you, “Nuh uh, you’re not getting away that easily… Get over here, now.”

Letting out a sigh, you looked at Nate with both confusion and shame, walking behind the café counter to where Yunjin was standing.

“What was that all about?” She asked, shaking your shoulder, “Huh? You’re making me look bad in front of my crush, y’know?”

“I got a call last night. A ghost face call,” you whispered, fighting back the tears meddling with your eyes, “It could’ve been a prank, but it seemed so real.”

She took your hand, guiding you into the kitchen where prying eyes and nosey ears couldn’t interfere.

“And you think it was Nate?”

“He’s writing an entire story about it, Jinnie! I can’t be crazy for drawing that conclusion!”

“And you’re not crazy… probably just a little hangry… and sleep deprived,” she smiled, handing you a cookie you didn’t even realize she was holding til now, “Eat it.”

“B-but the chocolate’s all melted.”

“Eat it, ____,” she giggled, shoving the cookie past your lips and into your mouth.

“Ahh, what the heck!”

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” she grinned, dusting the cookie crumbs on her apron, “now hurry up and finish that… we’ve got a lot more costumers to serve before our shifts ends."

12:16pm

Later that day, you somehow found the balls to apologize to Nate for blowing up on him. You didn’t expect him to be so forgiving, especially considering that you literally accused him of harassing you.

During the brief apology, you explained to him everything you went through in the past, apologizing again for trauma dumping on him. But, like always, he was very understanding, even laughing it off by saying he’s grown used to people having dramatic responses to his art.

“So, you’re V?” He asked, walking beside you as you made your way back to work from your lunch break.

“I’m what?”

“You know, V. Sunghoon’s survivor.”

You usually didn’t like your name being used synonymously with Sunghoon’s, but this time, you didn’t mind as much. Maybe that had something to do with Nate’s undeniable charm.

“Yeah, I-I guess I am,” you half-smiled, walking a bit slower as you weren’t quite ready to leave his side, “Why were you so fascinated by that story, anyway?”

He hummed in thought, looking at the sky before answering, “I’ve got a pretty messed up past, myself, y’know? I hate that certain things turned out the way the did, but it helped to shape me into who I am today.”

“And who’s that, if you don’t mind me asking. Who are you?”

He smiled, licking his teeth at how catty your voice sounded, “I’m an attractive guy with an ugly little kid who’s both obsessed and afraid of death hiding behind it all.”

“Explain that for me.”

“Only if you’re ready,” he said, a silence meddling between you two before you nodded, cueing for him to continue.

“When I was younger, some guys broke into my parents house while my mom and I were solving a puzzle in the kitchen. She hid me in the cabinet, but didn’t have enough time to hide herself before the burglars shot her straight in the chest. That’s just the short version, but part of me hasn’t been the same since then,” he paused, taking in a breath before continuing.

“I know she’d want me to lead a normal life after everything that happened, but I’m still attached to the darkness I saw. It’s a part of me now.”

You were trying not to show it on your face, but you weren’t expecting a guy like Nate to have gone through so much. He handled his pain a lot better than you ever could, and you both envied and admired him for it.

“Sorry, I know that was a lot to take in,” he sighed, sticking his hands in his pocket.

“Nate, I literally just told you that a serial killer held me captive for months while I carried his baby. You’re good,” you chuckled, nudging him on the shoulder.

You two bonded on other things like your experiences with therapy, sharing with him the medication you’d been taking to help with your anxiety.

“I don’t know, ____. I took that same stuff when I was a kid and it fucked me up bad… I’m sure you’ve been having adverse symptoms from it, right?” he frowned, walking up to the café entry with your hand in his.

Ding.

The bell jingled behind you, gracing both your senses with sweet aromas.

“Yeah, actually… I have.”

“So. You can choose to follow doctors orders or take my advice instead. The choice is yours,” he shrugged, letting go of your hand at the sight of Yunjin coming from around the counter.

She wasn’t oblivious to you two holding hands, but it didn’t bother her much anyways.

“Welcome back, strangers. I see you’re both on good terms now? No more witch hunts?”

“No more witch hunts,” Nate confirmed with a smirk, showcasing the faint dimple on one of his cheeks.

➠ wednesday

6:49am

Screech.

The sound of iceskates gliding across a frosty arena filled your ears.

The audience of chilly bodies was silent, eyes gawking in awe at the sight of the skilled dancer practically controlling gravity itself.

It was astounding how skilled this faceless skater was.

You were very much aware that you were currently in a dream, thanks to the mere fact that you’d never actually attend a figure skating show in real life.

Not that you had something against the sport…you just simply couldn’t handle the thoughts that came with it anymore.

Knock, knock, knock.

And in typical dream fashion, you teleported to an entirely different space within seconds, in this case, your apartment kitchen.

Pacing to the front door, you slung it open to reveal a quaint cardboard package lying on the ground.

You picked up the box, walking over to the kitchen counter before placing it down and grabbing a knife to cut through the packaging tape.

Flipping over the cardboard flabs, you were met with the sight of a tiny red sequined dress and a devil horned headband tucked neatly beside it.

Kazuha, you instantly thought to yourself.

“Remember this?” A gentle voice chirped, pulling you from your thoughts.

You whipped your head to see none other than a figment of the late Wonyoung. Even after all your treatment, you could never forget how beautiful she was… even your dream managed to capture the ethereal essence of her beauty.

She held a blue pregnancy test kit in her hand, dressed in the same school uniform she’d always wear, her pink lace socks resting at her dainty ankles.

“Wonyoung?” You asked in shock.

“The one and only. My brother did a good job of making sure you never forgot about me,” she said with a pout, making your own mood fall.

“I could never forget you, Wonnie. No matter how desperately I might’ve tried to.”

She smiled at your words, taking a few steps closer to you, “I haven’t been called that in a while… anyways, the pack said it only came with one test, but it gave me two instead. Trust me when I say you might need this later.”

You nodded in response, putting the test in your kitchen cabinet and closing the box with Kazuha’s costume in it.

“Hey, not so fast!! I wanted to try that on, y’know?

“Kaz!” You nearly yelped, running into her arms and giving her a hug.

“Okay okay, I missed you too, ____, but chill out with the PDA. I have a strict no-homo rule,” she chuckled, kissing you on the cheek anyways.

“Sooo you and Wonyoung get along now?”

“Surprisingly, yes. When you’re dead, I guess grudges just matter less to you. It’s easier to forgive than to hang on to that kind of pain,” she sighed, propping herself on the counter.

“Speaking of the dead,” you began curiously, “how is he? Sunghoon, I mean….”

The light presence in the room suddenly faltered at your mentioning of his name, Kazuha and Wonyoung exchanging troubled looks to each other before meeting your frame with forlorn eyes.

“W-what is it? Did something happen?” You pressed, sensing the dark cloud that slowly engulfed the three of you in the now dull kitchen space.

Wonyoung fidgeted with the beaded bracelet on her wrist before answering you with a shaky breath.

“Sunghoon isn’t here with us.”

Beep, beep, beep.

Awaking from your dream as if struck by lightening, you reached out a hand at the sound of your vibrating phone rumbling against your nightstand, revealing Heeseung’s contact flashing on your screen.

It was now 7 o’clock on the dot.

“Heeseung?” You asked in a groggy voice, rubbing your eyes from how brightly the sun shone from your bedroom window.

“Hi, I’m standing outside your door right now. Are you home? I knocked over ten minutes ago—”

Boop, boop.

You abruptly cut the call, putting on a pair of shorts (since you slept only in your panties), as you ran to answer the door.

Heeseung was standing there in a very nice outfit, but your current emotions weren’t interested in the slightest.

You practically leaped on him, shaking his shoulders with crazy eyes as you spit out words you yourself could hardly keep up with.

“Sunghoon!! H-he’s- He’s still alive, Heeseung! He never died! That… ugh, that means he's still out there! He's wants me dead, Heeseung! That explains everything!!"

“____, slow down. I can hardly understand a word you’re saying,” he chuckled, cupping your face in his hands, “breathe for me, okay?”

“I- I am breathing, Heeseung,” you sighed, anxiety pumping stronger in your veins than oxygen.

“I know,” he smiled, kissing you on the nose, “can I come in so you can tell me everything?”

You let him inside, taking a seat on your living room couch as he helped himself to fixing both of you a cup of coffee as if you were his guest.

“It was a dream, but… it all felt so real.”

“And I get that, but you know you’re not supposed to entertain those sorts of thoughts,” he half frowned, placing the warm mugs on the coffee table before you, “Now be honest with me, did you want to stay in the dream? Did part of you maybe want to think about Sunghoon?”

“Heeseung-“

“You know I have to ask these questions, ____. What kind of answers were you looking for?”

He peered into your eyes as if searching you for the words you were too afraid to say.

That’s when your phone blared with a text from Yunjin.

“Oh, crap!” you pouted, swiping the message on your phone, “I’ve gotta get ready for work in a few minutes…”

Heeseung tried to maintain his cool demeanor, “Well, can we at least finish our coffee first before you abandon me?”

“Of course, Hee,” you smiled, taking a sip of the milky beverage, “what were you doing here so early, anyway?”

He almost appeared to be caught off guard by your question, but you brushed off the suspicion, blaming it on the dream you’d just had.

“Oh- don’t worry about that now. Let’s just enjoy this moment before you go off to serve the fellow coffee-holics in our city.”

Yes, you and Heeseung often behaved as if you were in a seriously committed relationship, but at the end of the day, there was no label between you two.

A few more minutes passed, and your mugs were empty.

“Thanks for stopping by, Heeseung, but I’ve gotta get ready,” you smiled, walking him to your front door.

“You’re welcome, ____. And by the way, I saw your message. I really appreciate you being mature about everything, and I hope that you forgive me for the way I acted,” he said as you slowly closed the door in front of him, beelining to your bathroom to brush away your coffee breath.

2:47pm

Café Royale was closing early for the day as inspections were scheduled during your afternoon shift, so your entire team had the rest of the day off.

You decided to stay back to do some last-minute tidying before you’d leave.

All there was left to do was throw out the table flower water and leave a note for the inspectors.

That’s when you heard a thud against the back wall of the kitchen, high-pitched pleas falling from a familiar voice.

Leeseo.

You dropped the the flower vase, not caring that it shattered on the ground as you made a run toward the door, following the ruckus outside.

On the side of the bakery, you found the two girls from the restaurant pinning Leeseo against the wall while a girl you didn’t quite recognize recorded the ordeal.

Leeseo’s eyes were squeezed shut as the girl brought the camera closer to her face, “Don’t act all shy now, slut. We know how much you like being on camera,” Maeve cackled.

The part of you that would usually freeze in moments like this had died with Wonyoung.

You marched towards the girl recording, snatching the phone from her hand before launching it into the nearby parking lot.

“What the fuck,” she exclaimed before cowardly backing away. You yanked Aiko away from Leeseo, grabbing her face in your hand.

The two other girls were already making a run for it as your grip on Aiko's face tightened, causing her to wince at the feeling.

“Aren’t you like a grown woman or something? Get your hands off me!!” She squealed, possibly forgetting how to use her arms as she fought dumbly trying to escape your hold.

“I hope you didn’t think that shit was funny,” you said, observing her dull blue eyes.

There was nothing behind them, complete emptiness.

Much like Maddison, you thought to yourself.

“You leave Leeseo alone from now on, alright? She’s a hard working girl and doesn’t need punks like you making her life more difficult.”

Aiko's gaze darted between you and Leeseo who stood awkwardly in front of the wall, “An innocent, hard-working girl, huh? Wow... you really are two-faced.”

“I don’t think you answered her question,” Leeseo pitched.

Aiko only laughed in response, blinking a few times before answering, “Like I said, get your fucking hands off me, or there’s gonna be a serious problem,” she taunted, titled her head before you let go, watching as she walked away.

“See you at school, Flash,” she smiled, disappearing behind a corner.

“What’d she just call you?”

“Nothing!” Leeseo responded, a bit louder than planned.

“Don’t lie to me, kiddo. What does that name mean?”

“It means I’m a slut, okay? Just like they said,” she sighed, picking up her apron that the girls had thrown on the ground earlier, “a stupid slut that sends stupid photos to stupid boys who tell stupid girls.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say to her in the moment, as you’re sure she had heard enough of your advice.

All you did was pull her in for a hug, running a hand through her hair as she fought with the lump growing in her throat.

“You are not a stupid slut, Leeseo. You’re a teenage girl just trying to survive in this world,” you encouraged, breaking from the embrace.

That’s when you noticed Nate from afar, walking closer as you and Leeseo tried to recollect yourself.

“What was that all about?” He asked, giving Leeseo a side hug as she hid her face from him shyly.

“Depends, how much did you see?”

“Well, I saw you get all handsy with that high schooler who was harassing our girl over here,” he huffed, “you okay, Sissy?”

“Yeah, Nate, I’m fine,” she nearly whispered, crossing her arms.

“Look, Nate, I’m not usually that aggressive. I just couldn’t hold back when I saw-"

“____, stop your rambling,” he smiled, bringing a finger to your lip for a moment, “You were fucking amazing. Most girls wouldn’t have reacted the way you did, and I’m sure Leeseo is grateful that you stood up for her.”

You felt you stomach flutter at his words, or maybe it was whatever compelled him to touch your lips.

“Yeah, Nate’s right. You’re like… kind of a badass now.”

“Oh, only kind of,” you chuckled, nudging her waist.

“Yeah, because you let her go.”

Nate nodded in agreement with Leeseo, shrugging his shoulders in a teasing way, “She does have a point there, ____.”

“Well, it’s important to end your battles just as wisely as you pick them,” you said, the three of you walking towards the parking lot.

“Well said, Yoda,” Nate teased, making eye contact with you before speaking, “so, you doing anything after this?”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta clean up some glass I dropped in the shop, but I’ll text you later if I can meet up.”

“Okay,” he smiled, giving you and Leeseo both one last hug before heading back to wherever he came from, “Stay out of trouble, you guys!”

“We’ll try,” Leeseo called out, walking towards the cafe.

“Hey, you’re off for the day. Enjoy your time-off.”

“I will… after I return the favor,” she winked, heading towards the utility unit and grabbing a broom.

10:15pm

Despite having gotten off from work early, you still felt a little worn out from a certain series of events that occurred earlier. So, you decided to calm yourself down with a nice evening bath before bed.

After blow drying your hair, you proceeded with some simple skincare steps before finally ended with moisturizer.

That’s when you got a call from Yunjin. She was never one to call you this late, so you answered the call, hoping that everything was okay on her end.

“Hey, what’s up?” You asked, holding the phone to your ear as you closed your container of face cream.

“Oh my God, someone’s trying to kill me!”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m dead serious. Poor choice of words, but I’ve been running for five minutes and I’m about to give up,” she said, voice starting to crack, “…I thought it was funny at first, but now I’m really scared.”

“Oh my God, do you still see them?” You asked again, clutching to your phone.

“No, but I can hear their feet… I’m so fucking scared, ____.”

“I know, Jinnie. Where are you?”

“In the neighborhood-“

“Okay, I’m calling the police-“

“No, ____, don’t hang up!”

“Yunjin, I HAVE to.”

“Please don’t! I already tried but they sent me to the holding line… I just need to hear your voice right now, okay?”

“This is ridiculous! Your life is on the line here, I have to do something!” You cried, heart racing with your feet as you rushed to put on your coat, grabbing your car keys, “I’m gonna call them right now.”

“F-fuck, fuck, fuck,” she stammered, starting to sob, “you really shouldn’t hang up right now, ____.”

“Everything is going to be okay, Yunjin, just keep talking to me, I’m on my way to you!” You panted, running to your car without even making sure your apartment door was locked. “Do you still hear them?”

“Yes, and they’re getting faster! I don’t know what to do,” she said, choking on her own breath.

“Yunjin, sweetie, I need you to calm down. Your nerves are only going to make things worse.”

“What the fuck, ____, I’m gonna die!!”

“Fuck, Yunjin, don’t say that! Look around, is there anywhere you can hide? Any possible weapons?”

“No, I can’t see shit out here!!”

“Wait- I think I see you,” you said, zipping down the street.

“Is that your car? AHHH!”

“Yunjin!?!! What happened?!?!”

“I tripped- ugh, fuck…,” she sobbed, getting up with adrenaline until she caught a glimpse of the cherry colored blood dripping down her leg, making her feel lightheaded.

“Yunjin, are you okay?”

“Eugh- yeah,“ she groaned, “I just can’t feel my fucking legs… hurry!!”

“Shit, I lost you…,” you cursed under your breath until it hit you, “WAVE YOUR PHONE AROUND ON FLASH!”

“I- o-okay, okay!” She stuttered, fumbling with the phone in her hand as she put on the flash and did as you said.

You saw the faint white light radiating from her smartphone about three houses ahead of you.

Slamming your foot on the gas, you nearly flew down the street, a screeching sound echoing from your tires.

Your brakes came to a clean stop as you drifted around the corner, rolling down your car windows.

“Hurry, get in, get in!”

Yunjin only nodded as she ran toward the car, shoulder jerking as the car door resisted in opening.

“What the fuck, ____, unlock the damn door!!”

“Fuck, I did!!” You cried, frantically pressing the unlock button.

Quick thinking kicked in as Yunjin opted for the window, crawling in desperately as the hooded and masked figure sprinted towards your vehicle from behind her.

You reached out your hand to pull Yunjin’s body into the car the rest of the way before zooming off, the crazy killer having gotten just close enough to graze her calf with his blade.

“Hughh,” She exhaled, struggling to get a hold of her breath, “how does he know you?”

Darting through the neighborhood, you tried your best to escape the psycho, even though he didn’t have a chance to catch up with you on foot.

“W- what? What do you mean?”

“The guy in the mask, he said that he was gonna kill me because of YOU, ____! Holy shit, and he was tall as fuck with that freaky ass voice you were telling me about… And there was another girl out tonight! Oh my God, I bet he went after her too!”

“Another girl??” your voice raised slightly, "w-what'd she look like?"

"She's... I've seen her before... that kid... the one from Leeseo's school who comes around the café sometimes."

"Maeve?"

"No, not her... the prettier one."

You didn't wanna think about how Aiko was likely running for her life outside right now, but it was too late to turn around, so you distracted yourself by something else, “…how’s your leg doing?”

“Fine,” she whined, wiping the tears of black mascara that painted her cheeks.

“I don’t feel safe anymore,” she continued, shaking her head as her lower lip quivered, “none of us should…”

“I know, Yunjin.”

“You keep saying that, but I get the feeling there are a lot of things you’re late on clearing up about this, ____. Help me know, too.”

Your chest raised as you took a deep breath, letting out a sigh before answering, “that guy tonight…. I can’t say that I’m sure, but I think it’s Heeseung.”

“Your boyfriend,” she asked confused.

“He’s not my boyfriend, Jinnie.”

“Yeah, and I also doubt he’s a fucking psychopath. Isn’t he a doctor? He helps people for a living, you know?”

“Fuck, Yunjin, he���s the only other person who knows the full story. It just makes sense.”

Silence filled the car for a moment.

“Okay, now THIS is ridiculous. For the love of God, could you think of any other person that would possibly wanna torture us like this,” Yunjin nagged, looking at you as your eyes were still trained on the road.

“It… it could be… I’m just guessing, but… Sunghoon?”

“Huh,” Yunjin scoffed in disbelief, “So your dead boyfriend?”

“Whatever you wanna call it,” you replied sharply, feeling frustrated from life itself.

“Great, so what do we do about him now? How do we beat the final boss?”

Your grip around the steering wheel tightened as both fear and shame rose in your gut. You dreaded the moment you shared your past with Yunjin, and you dreaded the guilt that came with her almost losing her life because of it.

You took a deep breath and focused your eyes on the road, trying to fight back the tears that dared to spill from your terrorized eyes.

“We tell Nate,” you said, making a U-turn as you trailed down the road.

"Right, the computer obsessed nerd who drinks way too much coffee...” she cheered facetiously before continuing, “oh, and do you have an aspirin with you by any chance?"

"No. Here, drink this for now," you said, handing her the water bottle from your car door that you don't even remember purchasing.

She shook her head, taking a long sip from the bottle before resting it between her legs, "All I know is that this costume party better be fucking worth it."

➠ thursday

2:26am

3:43pm

You took Nate up on his previous offer to hang out and decided to invite him to have drinks with you and Yunjin at the local outdoor tea shop. That's where you two decided to tell him everything that happened the other night.

“I just... I don’t know what to do anymore, Nate," you frowned, stirring the tapioca pearls at the bottom of your cup.

“Every problem has a solution, ____. Your goal is to have your normal life back, right?”

“Yes, you know that, Nate. All I've wanted for the past few months is a slice of normalcy.”

He looked at Yunjin, whose facial expression mirrored the frown you wore, trying to come up with something, if anything at all, to grant you this craved slice of the ordinary.

“Fine. I have an idea in mind, but you might think it's a little crazy.”

"Crazier than looking over your shoulder every five seconds in fear of some punk with a knife kink," Yunjin asked in a goofy tone.

"Not quite," he began, taking a sip of his tea before continuing, "I've been meaning to throw this Halloween party at my house for a while. I'll text you all the updates if you're interested, but people will be wearing costumes."

"You're solution is a fashionably belated adult dress-up party?" Yunjin asked, yet stated in disapproval.

"Exactly. It'll be fun and best of all, normal. Obviously there's no pressure for you two to come, it was just an... a dumb idea, I guess-"

"No!" You excitedly interjected in Nate's defense, "That's actually a really great idea, Nate! We're young adults for crying out loud. Silly parties are literally a defining point of our culture."

You're not sure what got into you, but Kazuha would be proud of your willingness to mingle if she was here. Despite your past experiences with costume parties and undeniable intorvertism, you weren't gonna let some masked goon get in the way of your chance at feeling normal again, even if it was only for a few hours.

Yunjin cocked an eyebrow at you in confusion and concern, "I don't know, ____. Being in an environment like that can disturb your recovery. Plus, I'm not sure if that's the safest idea either, considering how that midnight prankster literally cut me."

"We'll be together the entire time," Nate bud in, "I'm a pretty strong guy, y'know? And from what I've seen, ____ here can be pretty badass when it comes to defense."

You tried not to laugh at the memory of Aiko and Leeseo's parking lot showdown yesterday. It flattered you that Nate viewed your protectiveness as a sign of courage, even though you might've gotten a little carried away.

"Uhmmmm, she's blushing... Why is she blushing?! ____, did something happen that I don't know about? Nate, for the love of God, would you please stop smirking!!" Yunjin huffed, dying to know about this obvious inside joke Nate just told.

"I'm not smirking," he lied, chuckling at Yunjin's words as he struggled to look her in the face out of embarrassment.

"We're not hiding anyyyything. Right Nate?" You giggled, flashing him a corny wink.

Yunjin rolled her eyes at you two, taking an annoyed sip from her boba as you guys fought the growing urge to buss out laughing.

That's when you all spotted Leeseo walking home from school with her hair covering her face. You made an effort to call her over, but she obviously ignored you until Nate said something.

"Sissy," He almost whispered with a now forced smile, sensing that something was off by her foggy aura.

She stopped right in her tracks, bashfully lifting her head to reveal her tear-stained cheeks.

The three of you got up from your table, rushing over to comfort her.

"Hey, why the long face, kiddo?" Yunjin asked, taking Leeseo's backpack so the poor girl could finally relax her anxious shoulders.

"S-something happened to Aiko last night," she let out through broken sniffles, "Maeve was telling the whole school about it today."

Oh my God, you thought to yourself.

A worried expression wavered over Nate's features, "W-well... what'd she say?"

"She was talking on the phone with Aiko last night to make sure she got home safely. That's when Aiko said this weird guy kept texting her... Maeve listened to the whole thing..."

"Leeseo, I'm kind of missing the point here," Yunjin pressed, not being able to read through her words clearly.

"Aiko told Maeve that some guy in a costume started chasing her... Another girl was running away with her, but Aiko couldn't tell who she was..."

"Leeseo..."

"Maeve said she heard Aiko stop running, followed by painful screaming and coughing... we don't know for sure but... people are saying that its a ghost face copycat-"

Nate stopped her mid-sentence, wrapping his arms around her as she weeped into his chest.

"I know it's silly that I'm crying because she was such a bitch to me," her voice cracked, tears leaving darkened grey spots on Nate's turtleneck.

"You're not silly for having a heart, Leeseo," you said softly, holding your own hands from how cold your surroundings suddenly became.

"They found her body, ____," she sobbed, hardly being able to contain her breathing, "that freak killed her."

Nothing else was said as there was nothing left to say. You all stood around Nate and Lesseo in a circle, meddling on the increasingly horrifying status of your realities.

Turns out that the new masked goon on the street wasn't some lame copy cat, but unfortunately, someone much more sinister.

➠ friday

11:54am

During your lunch break, you decided to tell Heeseung about Nate's costume party tonight. Not because you wanted him to join you or anything... mostly because you thought it'd be the right thing to let him know. Though, if you knew he would've reacted in the way he did, you simply would've avoided telling him altogether.

"Why would you go to a party like that, ____?" He scolded, shaking his head at you, "People in masks, carrying fake knives and what not. You're not ready, ____! A kid was literally just stabbed to death in our neighborhood!"

"I am ready, Heeseung! Hell, I don't even remember what Sunghoon looks like at this poin. He's officially a part of my past now, and I thank you for everything you've done to help me heal since that, but please, don't ruin this for me."

"Ruin your mood before a bogus late Halloween party?" He scoffed, leaning against the wall in the cafeteria.

You decided to break the news to him after surprising him at work with some lunch you made for him that morning. You understood exactly where he was coming from: Heeseung only wanted the best for you ever since day one, but you still wish he wouldn't have been so harsh about something as simple as a costume party.

"Please don't get mad at me for asking, but have you stopped taking your meds?"

Your heart dropped at his words. Was there an obvious difference in your behavior that would make him know that?

Now it was your turn to feel guilty, "I'm sorry for not telling you, Heeseung. I haven't taken any over the last few days, but I promise you, I've never been happier!"

"____, you think I don't know about that little stunt at your job? Your emotions are out of control!"

"I only stopped taking the meds because Nate suggested I give them a break. If me not feeding into fear is what losing control of me emotions looks like, then so be it," you fought back.

"God, listen to yourself, ____. Valuing the advice of this Nate guy over me, a professional healthcare provider? Where's your trust in me?" He frowned, voice falling to a whisper.

Beep, beep, beep, the cafeteria microwave chimed through the tension of the room. Heeseung had put the lunch you made him in there a few minutes ago, and you're sure it was pretty over-warmed by now.

"I'm trusting in myself from now on," you replied, adjusting your purse over your shoulder and turning to walk away from him, "Enjoy your food, Heeseung."

9:03pm

Once again, it was a Friday night and the mood was right, as you liked to say.

The decorations, the vibes and snack table—it was all reminiscent of Sunghoon's party last summer, but minus the fear that came with it.

Better.

You couldn't help but think about Kazuha in the atmosphere.

Parties were always her scene, and now that you think about it, Yunjin had a spirit very similar to Kaz, and Nate… well, he was a lot like the person Sunghoon had fooled you into thinking he was.

Kind, gentle, healing.

You and Yunjin were dressed to impress in your flirty cat costumes, Nate opting for a more relaxed apparel in a graphic sweatshirt, silver chains, and ripped jeans.

"It's my emo persona," he clarified for the both of you who were still confused as to why he didn't dress up at his own party.

"Cool, so does this emo version of you go by a different name orrr-"

"You died your hair black," you interrupted, staring in shock.

Nate's smile froze before twisting into something more mischievous, "Yeah, I did. Too bad our friend Yunjin here didn't notice... have you been drinking?" He teased, poking her on the forehead.

"Hands off, Lil Huddy, and no, I'm still waiting for the host to show me where the bar is."

"As you wish," he smiled, taking you and Yunjin's hand in his, slipping past the crowd and beelining toward his indoor bar.

One Of The Girls pulsed from the radio speakers, thrumming through the party air as surrounding bodies either swayed or made conversation to the rhythms. The mysterious aura of the song lingered in your limbs as you struggled to wrap your head around what bothered you about Nate's costume tonight.

You didn't wanna say it was the hair, because this new, dark look made him undeniably more attractive. Still, there was something different about his eyes. Something that made you feel uneasy.

So you brushed it off.

"What's your poison," Nate asked with a cheesy grin, placing three chilled shot glasses and a drink mixer on the counter.

“Hmm,” You began, tapping at your chin, “how about something creamy with a dairy base? In honor of our feline outfits.”

“Got it,” he huffed, rolling up his sleeves and examining the array of shelved alcohols behind him. He went for a bottle of banana liquor and crème de cacao. Pouring the amber liquids into the mixers along with some whole milk and ice, he gave it a theatrical shake before pouring it into your shot glasses. “Voila, my ladies! Tell me what you think,” Nate hummed, looking into your eyes as he licked the bead of milk from the rim of the cup.

Yunjin took a sip first and then you, surprisingly pleasant flavors of warm chocolate greeting your taste buds. “Woah, this is actually really good! The banana doesn’t taste synthetic, either!” Yunjin chirped, going back for another sip.

“That’s because I only buy the finest quality products for my guests,” Nate said, eyes turning back to you as he leaned over the counter, wiping the sweet foam from your lips with his thumb.

“Jeez, I’m still right here, y’know?” Yunjin cringed, making you and Nate both feel a little shy.

“What’s this drink called anyway? I wanna make it at home sometime,” Yunjin continued.

“It’s called a Banshee. You can look up the recipe online.”

“Oooh, sounds dangerous.”

“It’s not. Most Banshee’s only warn of pending deaths, while others relish in the pain of people who’ve harmed them in some way.”

“Interesting, but what does that have to do with bananas and chocolate,” you asked.

“The short answer is nothing at all,” Nate said, walking around the counter to sit in between you and Yunjin, “it’s just a silly name, I guess.”

After you three finished up your drinks, you headed back to the dance floor where you made absolute fools of yourselves. Yunjin, who got the dropsies early on, called in an Uber to drive her back home.

“Yunjin, I’m not letting you go home alone while drunk,” you retorted, walking her to the car, “Besides, I’m sure your driver won’t mind looking at two pussies for the night.”

“Yeah,” she giggled, leaning her head into your shoulder, “but maybe some other time when I'm a little more in touch,” she smiled, drawing your attention to the tinted windows of the vehicle. You could barely make out what the driver looked like.

“Anyways, you and Nate deserve this night together. I’ll be fine, I promised,” she said with slurred words as you watched her enter the vehicle.

“Okay, Jinnie. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you waved as the car pulled off.

“Tomorrow!” She cheered back before rolling up the window.

10:16pm

The party continued as normal, you and Nate sticking by each others side for the entire time. As expected, a few ghostface cosplayers welcomed themselves to the party space, but you weren’t gonna let them worry you.

Buzz. Buzz.

Your phone vibrated in your purple handbag. Pulling out your phone, the bright screen revealed an incoming call from an unknown number.

What a wonderful surprise, you thought to yourself.

You went to press the hangup button, but Nate stopped your hand, meeting your eyes with his encouraging ones.

“Go on… answer it,” he almost whispered, securing your waist with his protective hand.

You’re not sure what compelled you to listen to him, but you felt strong enough to answer the call just as casually as it came.

“Who is this,” you asked dumbly, your gut having told you exactly who it was before answering.

“Does my voice ring any bells?”

Gut wrong. It was Heeseung. You had forgotten all about how you blocked him a few hours after your argument to make sure he didn't get in the way of your party plans. That explains why he called from a burner number.

“What do you want, Hee,” you said with a sigh, now walking away from Nate’s hold.

“Oh, so first, you risk your health by going against my advice, and now I’m not allowed to check on you, either?”

“I’m fine, Hee,” you answered, only for another ring tone to fill your ear.

You glanced at the phone screen: another unknown number was intersecting the call.

“Gimme a second,” you paused, accepting the incoming call and putting Heeseung’s line on hold.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?”

Nevermind. Gut actually right, just slightly delayed. It was the ghostface creep calling to ruin your fun.

“Enjoying what, exactly?" You pressed, already feeling yourself get a little nervous.

"Enjoying this taste of normalcy, of course. You're not trying to forget about me, are you princess?" The gravelly voice slithered, sending chills down your spine.

It was obvious that this psycho wanted you to think they were some kind of Sunghoon Park reincarnate, coming back to haunt you all over again. The part that you didn't understand, however, was how they knew so much and why they were willing to kill for the sake of a prank.

"Look, I don't have time for your games right now, stay out of my life," You bit back, trying to hide just how scared you truly were.

"Oh, ____, we both know that I can't do that. But I'll promise you this much: No more games tonight. Deal?"

You took a moment to breath before answering, "D-deal."

"Perfect. Now if you're a smart girl who learns from her mistakes, you won't hang up until I say so," the voice hissed.

The sound of what you assumed was a vinyl record scratching against a pin met your anxious ear, an upbeat piano tune rumbling from the track.

"Unusual. They say strange fascination, in...fatuation! A lunatic."

"What is this," you couldn't help but ask, even though you knew there wouldn't be an answer.

"Cause my insides are red, and yours are too! And the red on my face is matching you," the chilling recording sang, "And goodness you're bleeding. What a wonderful feeling. You're down and you're pleading. My head is just reeling-"

You subconsciously walked back closer to Nate as the chorus erupted, bumping into him as you were lost in whatever trance this freak was successfully putting on you.

The urge to hang up grew stronger with each second, but you knew better than to test your luck so soon.

"ꪻꫝꫀ ᥅ꫀᦔ ꪑꫀꪖꪀᦓ ꠸ ꪶꪮꪜꫀ ꪗꪮꪊ " The final lyric whined before the phone call ended abruptly.

Heeseung's line appeared to have cut a few minutes ago, too.

No... he hung up on you.

You called Heeseung back who immediately answered, “Where are you?” You started, not even trying to hide your sense of urgency.

"Why, your new boyfriend abandoned you already?"

"Cut the crap, Heeseung, where are you??” Your voice cracked this time.

"God, I’m at home, ____, why--"

Nate snatched your phone, cutting the call as he turned you to face him, "What the hell was that all about?"

“That ghost face creep wanted me to stay on the phone while he serenading me...”

"You're kidding."

"I wish. Too bad I got scared into listening."

"It's okay. I'm sure you did the right thing. Now where are we headed."

"Wherever Heeseung is. I'm skeptical that he may be behind all of this, but if he's not, that phone call I got was just a distraction. He could be in trouble." You said, taking Nate's hand in yours as you led him outside of the party and to his car.

"Okay. Is there any way you can track his location?"

"Yeah, as long as he has his phone with him," you said, getting in the car and putting on your seatbelt.

Nate passed you your phone so you could pull up Heeseung's whereabouts. From the looks of it, he was driving somewhere, and definitely not home like he said he was.

"What's he doing in the middle of nowhere?" Nate asked, narrowing his eyes at the phone screen.

"I have know idea, but we have to follow him," you said, holding up your phone for Nate to follow the directions.

10:20pm

Yunjin sat quietly in the backseat, observing the night skyline behind the foggy car windows in between her recurrent dozing.

A certain bump in the road caused the car to shake, disrupting Yunjin's slumber once again. That's when she overheard the Uber driver on the phone with someone.

"Hey... not sure if I'm hallucinating or not, but were you just on the phone with my friend?” She asked, having heard a familiar voice on the other end of the call.

The driver didn't pay Yunjin any mind as he continued speaking on the phone, the female voice repeating the name "Heeseung" a few times before hanging up.

"Oh my gosh!" She gasped in shock, taking in the view of the drivers face from the rearview mirror, "You’re Heeseung? Wow, you’re like... wayyyyy hotter than I thought you’d be. Respectfully, of course, since you and ____ have history. She is literally so lucky to have you around.”

“She sure is," he said with a forced smiled, but it didn't quite reach his dark, doe eyes.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he turned down yet another rocky trail.

“Hey, I think you made a wrong turn, my street is that way…” Yunjin mumbled, not wanted to come off as bossy.

“Oh- Yeah, I'm taking a short cut to avoid traffic, don't worry about it.”

She simply nodded in response, dozing off for another 10 minutes before waking back up again. Yunjin was never really a lightweight when it came to drinking. If anything, it sometimes seemed as though she was immune to its effects.

"What the hell was in that Banshee," she thought to herself, rubbing the heaviness from her glittery eyes before looking back out the window again, taking in the view of trees and wildlife that made up her surroundings.

“Hey, we’ve been on this road for a while now, are you sure you're on the right path?”

Heeseung pursed his lips at her question, taking a breath and holding it in his chest for a moment, “I can't take you home tonight," he said, eyes still trained on the road ahead of him as he locked the doors.

"Haha, very funny, but suddenly, I gotta piss. So unless you wanna smell my golden release in your car for the next month, I suggest you take another detour, Dr. Lee," She threatened, unbuckling her seatbelt to ease the pressure around her stomach.

"I'm afraid I don't have much time to tell you this, but someone from ____'s past is out to hurt the both of you. You need to understand that Nate is not who he says he is," Heeseung frowned, letting go of the breath he'd been holding.

“Yeah, no kidding, but that still doesn't explain where the fuck you're taking me,” Yunjin retorted, fidgeting with the car door handle as a way to annoy him.

“Would you please stop doing that? I'm already on edge right now, and you would be too if you actually listened to what I'm saying," Heeseung sighed, raising his voice slightly.

"I am listening."

"Great, so hear this. I'm taking you somewhere safe from whatever's to come tonight.. otherwise, you could be in even more trouble.”

Yunjin let his words sink in before answering, "Okay, I hope that I'm making the right decision by trusting you, but what about ____?"

"I'll take care of her after this, just focus on yourself right now," he replied, pulling the vehicle into the driveway of a mysterious log cabin cradled within the depths of the forest.

"Get out," Heeseung said, exiting the vehicle with haste as Yunjin followed after him, walking up to the front door where a key was hidden beneath the doormat.

"Just follow me, he'll find you too easily up here," he went on, grabbing her hand and leading her to the downstairs basement.

With how fast Heeseung was moving, Yunjin barely had enough time to make out her surroundings, her peripheral vision being filled with colors instead of identifiable objects... Or maybe that was the affect of Nate's Banshee still lingering in her system.

The last thing she'd remember was Heeseung bringing her into the basement before closing the door, approaching her with a wooden chair in his grasp as everything around her went black.

10:52pm

According to your phone's GPS, you were still a few minutes shy from arriving at Heeseung's location. Though, the undeniable familiarity of your surroundings brought up a feeling of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

The way the moonlight peeked through the trees, casting an ominous glow on the hood of Nate's car was all too reminiscent of a few scenes from your nightmares.

Scenes where Sunghoon would drive you to and from the clinic as if it were a daycare center for punished girls, watching from the hospital cafeteria window as bright mornings slowly faded into a starry nights.

Much like tonight, that is.

The bright car headlights of the vehicle glazed the surface of a rectangular sign hanging above the front door of the shady cabin. hidden within the first as Nate pulled into the driveway. A sign that read the words "Park Lodge."

Another sight that caught your attention was the same Uber car that Yunjin got into and the front door that was left open.

Oh God, help me please, you thought to yourself, or maybe prayed, fidgeting with your fingers as Nate stopped the car, ceasing the calming sound of the air conditioner.

"Are you sure you wanna go in, or would you rather stay out here," Nate asked softly, looking in your direction as you simply stared in your lap.

Still dressed in your slutty cat costume, you couldn't help but feel silly, almost as though you'd gotten dressed up to make a fool out of yourself tonight.

So many thoughts and questions were running through your head: Was Yunjin okay? Why the hell would Heeseung come here? Does he have something to do with this recent outbreak of ghost face hysteria? Who could you trust?

Slam.

You closed the car door, leaving your hand bag behind, walking up to the cabin with Nate beside you.

Despite everything you'd been through, this was easily one of the most frightening experiences of them all, but you couldnt let fear get the best of you.

Not yet.

Not now.

"What is this place," he asked, taking in the interior design of this forbidden cabin you knew all too well.

"My former torture chamber," you sighed, opening door after door in search of anything at all, "The place where Sunghoon would..." your voice trailed off, "the place where it all happened."

Nate only hummed at your words, eyes scanning your movements as you continued to search the space like a maniac, but to no avail.

That's when you saw a trail of dirt leading to the basement.

Two trails, that is. One from a man and the other from a female.

"In here!" You called out to Nate who ran towards you, twisting the door handle that refused to grant you access.

"Step back," he said, and you did, watching as he gave the door a few kicks before it slung open, the handle clashing with the wall behind it.

"Watch your step," he warned, taking in the extravagant view of steps that lead to whatever was hiding within the darkness of the basement aside from the many demons Sunghoon left behind.

Step by step, you watched as your feet met each level, Nate's shoes clicking behind yours. Once your boots finally met solid ground, you weren't too surprised to see Heeseung pacing around the room casually.

You didn't even realize Nate was holding your hand until he let go of it, leaving your side for reasons you didn't immediately understand.

“What’re you doing here!?” You nearly shouted, a disgusted look wavering over your face at Heeseung's relaxed demeanor.

But to your surprise, he didn't answer, only watching as Nate made his way to the closet, looking to Heeseung before asking, "Is she in here?"

Heeseung nodded, and with that, Nate took it upon himself to open the closet door, revealing none other than Yunjin's unconscious body sitting, no, tied to a chair with rope, a rectangle of duck tape covering her mouth.

You’re not sure why you just stood there and watched, but you did. Something about seeing yet another person end up in a bad situation simply because they were your friend made you freeze.

Nate’s previously nervous expression was taken over by a much more malicious one, his hand going to grab a handful of Yunjin's hair before giving her head a shake, “Is anybody home,” he snickered, but she remained asleep, only groaning at his actions.

“Don’t touch her like that!” You finally yelped, causing Yunjin to regain her consciousness from the loudness of your voice.

Nate removed the tape from her mouth.

“_-____?” She stuttered over your name through half lidded eyes, looking back at you.

Slice.

Blood trickled down Nate’s arm as he dug the rim of his knife further into the flesh of Yunjin’s throat, her eyes rolling into the back of her head as her arms tensed up from the pain.

“Shit, looks like I missed the rope,” Nate pouted facetiously, letting her head hang forward as he licked the bead of blood that trailed down his knife, “I've always had bad aim.” “Why the hell did you do that!!” Heeseung yelled, running up to Nate and pushing him away from Yunjin, “We agreed that we weren’t gonna kill her, that’s why I told you to spike her drink in the first place!”

“But gosh, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Nate defended, to which Heeseung scoffed annoyedly.

“Yunjin didn’t hurt your sister! And she wasn’t like that other girl you killed that night. Our other targets deserved to die. Not her,” Heeseung said with a heavy voice, almost as if wanting to cry, but you knew he wouldn’t.

Closing the closet door, a look of disappointment wavered over his features, “You're loosing grip of your purpose, Sunghoon.”

You felt as though your world stopped spinning at the realization of everything that was going on.

So you weren't just going crazy this entire time?

“N-…. N-no, it can’t be,” you stuttered, feeling as though your legs would give out. “Don’t touch me!” You barked as Heeseung tried to catch you from falling, which you did anyway, right to your knees.

“This whole time… S-Sunghoon, I...I thought... y-you're supposed to be dead,” your voice cracked, another tear joining the cloudy stream that already stained your face.

“With that logic, I guess I'm supposed to be a lot of things... Sane, kind, honest. By now though, you should know that I've always danced to the beat of my own drum," Sunghoon smirked, playing with the bloody knife in his hand, "What did you think of that song, by the way? Pretty good, right?"

“You fucking monster! Y-you… you killed two innocent people!”

"Oh, big woop! It's not like they were going to turn out to be anything anyways," Nate scoffed, twirling the weapon once again, "I'm sure you probably have a lot of questions you'd like to ask, so I recommend you start talking before my patience runs out."

"Heeseung... I... I don't understand your role in all of this..."

"There are no excuses for my actions, ____, but I owed it to Sunghoon. We both found each other during some dark times in our lives. He promised to help me get some pretty bad people off my back if in exchange, I helped him kill off that Jun-Hwan guy... I just got in too deep to turn back.”

"But why? Why go on for so long? Why not just kill me off and relish in your fleeting sense of justice?" You cried, not being able to control the tears spilling from your eyes.

Your entire life for the past 6 months had been nothing more than a big fat lie.

“God, didn't I already explain this part to you everyday when I had you down here all those days? I did it for my sister, ____,” Sunghoon hissed.

"So you tortured me everyday for months while I carried your child for some lame attempt at redemption?"

"Exactly. See? I knew you were smart."

“No... maybe in the beginning your intentions were noble, but now you’re just acting on your own sick impulses! You like hurting people!”

"Okay, I thought I told you to ask questions, not lecture me."

“Your entire plan was to make my life a living hell! All that shit you said about loving me was a part of this grand psychological game you’re playing!”

“Bingo! You’re on fire, princess,” he winked, unfazed by your emotional outburst, "Now, in a few seconds, I'm going to slit your eyelids in half so you can watch as I stab you multiple times in the face. Any last words?"

You couldn't even be mad at yourself for falling for his tricks... People always said that psychopaths had a way of making some of the most convincing actors.

"Fuck you," you spat, lips trembling like an earthquake before him.

"Cute. If you so happen to wake up in heaven, tell Wonyoung I said-"

Bang.

A silver bullet lodged through the center of Sunghoon's chest, the loud sound making your ears pop.

Bang.

Another bullet joined the first one in his chest, the silver blade finally falling from his cold grasp and clashing with the wooden floor.

Bang.

This shot went off with a ring, gushing through his forehead as his now lifeless body met you on the floor, splashes of red decorated your skin. It was interesting how his beautiful face stayed in contact after the collision.

Your jaw went slack at the sight, a mixture of terror and surprise running through every cell in your body.

You turned to see the source of the gunfire, finding none other than Leeseo standing with the smokey weapon still pointed at Sunghoon's head, her index finger slowly easing into the trigger again.

"That's enough!!" You yelled, haulting what would've made her fourth shot at him.

Putting the gun on safety, she tucked it into her brown leather jacket, grabbing you by the hands as she lifted you up from the ground, greeting you with her embrace.

"What the hell are you doing here, kiddo," you sniffled in her shoulder, feeling as though your body was on the verge of breaking.

"I suspected Nate had something to do with Aiko's death, so I started following him and noticed that he kept coming back here for some reason," she whispered, breaking from the hug.

"Leeseo-"

"I'm so glad that I brought my dad's pistol with me tonight. I heard that there was a party going on and I had a feeling what kind of monster I was dealing with early on. It sucks to say that my instincts were right-"

"Leeseo-"

"I saw him kill Yunjin from upstairs. I froze at the sight in the same way you did-"

"Leeseo, listen."

"What?" She said, taking your hands in hers.

“Nate wasn't real… his real name is Sunghoon Park.”

She screwed her eyebrows at your words, "Wait- Like the original guy from the ghost face incidents this summer?"

"Yes," you replied plainly.

"But... the news said he died... h-he... no, V hit him with a car outside of the hospital! He was in a coma-"

"Look, there's a lot more to the story that I have yet to tell you because I'm still trying to understand some of it myself... I'm just glad you were brave enough to stand up for us like that."

All she did was smile. Even in the face of danger, she always had a way of bringing sunshine to the room. "Are you sure I shouldn't shoot him one more time though?"

"He's dead, Sissy. For good this time, okay?" You reassured her as the sound of police sirens rumbled from above the basement.

Could this girl get any smarter?

"Hey... Where'd Dr. Lee go," she asked, taking one more good look around the basement.

"Don't worry about Heeseung. He wasn't on our side, either," you sighed as a team of police officers came rushing down the stairs, infiltrating the space.

➠ a little over one week later, monday

You still think about what would’ve happened if you wouldn't have dragged Yunjin into going to Sunghoon's party with you that night. If you didn’t trust "Nate" over your own gut feelings, falling for his charm in the same way you did when you first met him. If you never continued therapy or even a relationship with Heeseung. If you never betrayed Wonyoung for your friends to the point that she was bullied to death.

Would you, Kaz, and Madds still be friends, attending the same university together as you took on the exciting new adventure of adulthood? Would Sunghoon and Jun-Hwan be professional athletes in the Olympics, Wonyoung cheering them both on from the sidelines?

So many questions, but you're afraid there are only limited answers to them at this given moment in time.

Right now, you were rewarded the chance to lead your life the way you wanted, fear-free. “Hey, ____! Are you still down to hang out after work? I wanna show you the poster I was working on for Café Royale's holiday menu!” Leeseo chirped as she untied the bow to her apron, tucking it away in her sack. “Yeah, I’ll be out in a sec!” You called out to her, heading to lock up the kitchen before you left.

The owner of Café Royale had flew in town a few days ago, as she was also in search for normalcy some place outside of town. She felt the need to come down and check on things, bidding her condolences. "You might wanna keep a good eye on these," she said, placing the store front keys in your hand as she made her way outside, you following closely behind after hanging your apron over the wall hook. "I really can't thank you enough for this, ma'am," you expressed, watching as she got into her fancy purple car.

"Start by not letting me down. I understand that this is a big responsibility I'm leaving you with, but I know you can handle it. You're a trooper, ____," she smiled, closing her car door before pulling off, joining the rest of the busy vehicles rolling up and down the road. Leeseo was already at your side by now, hooking your arm in hers as she lead you in the direction of her "In Progress Creative Project."

"What'd the boss lady wanna tell you," she started, legs following the exact same step speed at which you walked.

You took a moment to soak up the evening sun, relishing in this feeling of normalcy you oh-so craved for far too long.

Here goes that word again, you thought to yourself, meeting Leeseo's eyes with your own enlightened ones.

"Let's just say I'll be sticking around this town for a lot longer than planned."

Fin.

❅ Thank you all so much for reading Part 3 of this absolute train wreck of a story! Special thanks to @ashgonedash the original requestor of this story, @squoxle my trusted creative assistant, and @yourmomscuntis2tighy for additional support and creative inspo! Couldn't have done this one without y'all!

❅ Make sure to check out my enhypen bookshelf here for my fun reads and yonder content !!

✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

taglist: @ashgonedash @nikilvr @ttokyoobv @yourmomscuntis2tighy @fightqueen @addictedtohobi @sltfohoon @lisaaannna @beomgyusonlywife @casualcloddeputyherring @calichuchies-blog @devqrasgirl @rhiannass @lovelycassy @pinapplefntacupss @en-thralled @nikimeows @kaykay11sworld @j-wyoung @flowerbe0m @clarisabutterfliescupcake @wonnyan @sunghoonmyprince @heeseung-min - EVERYONE ELSE I couldn't tag for some reason?? Sowwy hehe

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 12

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 12/? 10.7k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Grades are high, but stakes are higher.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: flirting, play fighting, heavy angst, drinking, pregnancy mention, a heaping helping of family tension, mild fantasy blood/gore 

Special thanks to @storiesbyrhi for the beta reading on this one.

Monday, November 18th 1985

Hawkins felt different this weekend. 

Perhaps it was the ashen sky that hung over the scattered remains of a brilliant fall. The way it bathed the world in a pale, sullen wash. The way it made the rust on the signs outside the gas station seem more corrosive, the streets seem smaller, the storefronts seem older. Perhaps it was because everywhere you looked, you saw him. 

You were used to hearing Eddie in the cars that billowed smoke and blasted music as you pumped your gas. You had grown accustomed to seeing him in the crushed beer cans and cigarette butts that littered the weeds along the sidewalk, in the remnants of a good time. Those things were not unusual. But this weekend you saw him under the harsh fluorescents of the grocery store. On the crinkled label of a 99 cent can of soup. In the faces of small children as you stood in line with a cart that you could never fill alone. You saw him in the windows of subsidized apartments. Heard him in the squeak of wire hangers against the pole at the secondhand store. Felt him as you drove past the huddled rows of trailers.

On Monday after school when you sensed a tall figure in the doorway of your classroom, you half expected to look up and feel those grey skies again. To see those weed littered sidewalks and pothole riddled roads that led nowhere. But instead you saw something much brighter.

Eddie was smirking, rapping his ringed knuckles against the doorframe as he leaned into it. A look in his eyes like he was keeping a secret.

His dirty white Reeboks squeaked against the tile as he padded over to his spot in the wooden chair beside you and dropped his backpack irreverently to the floor. The gust of air that followed was painted with base notes of skin and leather, top notes of cigarette smoke and a bright hint of shampoo. Not a trace of rain.

You gathered the papers in front of you, shuffling them into a pile in the corner as you glanced over at him, unable to suppress the smile breaking out on your face. “What?” 

The smirk twisted deeper on his lips. “I read your story.” 

It was like he said he’d seen you naked. Heat crept up your neck. “All of it?” you asked with a nervous chuckle. 

“Not exactly.” Eddie grabbed the seat between his legs and walked it closer. “I’m at the part where they’re, uh, cooking over the fire outside of Grimhold and Cybelle takes her mask off for the first time. Well, in front of Lazarus anyway.” He shrugged his leather jacket off to drape over the back of the chair. 

It was strange to hear him say those names. Names you hadn’t thought about in years, dusted off from where you shelved them in your mind. It was like he was speaking a dead language, breathing new life into it. 

You swallowed. “Oh, that part. Yeah, that’s an important moment.”  

“I had a hard time putting it down, if that tells you anything.” 

“I take that means you like it then?” 

“Like it?” he said in a breathy chuckle, leaning closer. “I’m blown away.”

Your stomach turned to mush, unable to tear your eyes away from the soft earnestness of his features. “Really?”

Eddie gave a deadpan look. “Look, I’m a huge fantasy geek, but this world you’ve created is…” he shook his head as a soft puff of air left his lips, “unlike anything I’ve ever read.”

There was a weight to his gaze, so heavy that you needed to break it. “Oh wow, um, thank you,” you said, glancing at the paperclips on your desk as heat made a home in your cheeks again. “It’s been ages since I’ve read it myself honestly.” In the same span of time you still never learned how to take a compliment.

“Yeah—no, I mean it. It’s really good.” He tipped his head towards you, searching for your eyes. “I like that it’s, uh, based in a sort of… reality, if that makes sense. Like the whole thing about illness being a problem and how the change in the atmosphere makes Cybelle dizzy. The gold and how it powers machines. Stuff like that. It’s clever.”

You found the courage to meet his gaze again. “Well, thank you. I mean I’m definitely no Tolkien, but…”

 Eddie scoffed. “Honestly? Tolkien takes three pages to describe a door. You never need to and yet the world is crystal clear.”

The ease that washed over you escaped through a chuckle. “You know, I always thought that killed the pacing.”

“It does! God, I mean don’t get me wrong, he is the grandfather of fantasy but Jesus Christ.”

Your laughter mingled, soft and easy, coloring the air in the space between you. It echoed off the tile floor and concrete walls as beams of golden sunlight poured in through the row of windows to your right. The rays made a halo of his hair, catching the frizz that escaped the pattern of his curls. 

Eddie’s eyes sparkled, and you would search for the hurt in them. You knew it was there, hiding somewhere deep in those pools of molten chocolate, but in this moment there was no trace to be found. 

“Hell, maybe I should consult you for my campaigns,” he said scooting his chair impossibly closer. Close enough to feel his aura. To feel the hair on his arm tickle against yours. 

“Jeez, don’t flatter me.” You were surprised at how steady your voice came out.

“No, I’m serious,” he said, his eyes drifting toward your lips. “Okay, don’t tell the boys but I’m actually kind of stuck on this one part coming up.”

You snorted. “Right, because I have such a good rapport with the boys.”

The smile lines deepened around his smirk. “Ok, so… the final boss is coming up and I kind of want there to be a plot twist but I’m not sure how to like, make that work.”

“Alright, well what’s happened in the story so far?”

There was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes before his voice dropped to a theatric narration. 

“There’s a dark, evil force in the village of Hammerfall,” he began with a wave of his hand. “Crops are withering, livestock perishing. The villagers say it’s a curse put on by a spurned old crone who vanished into the forest, never to be seen again.” 

The gooey smile breaking out on your features could not be contained. A new color in the lexicon of hues you knew his voice to be. Rich with iridescent animation, reaching deep enough to turn your heart to putty.

“Six brave adventurers investigate the cause and venture deep into the nearby woods where they encounter harpies,” he emphasized, flourishing his fingers, “dryads, and a forest teeming with dark activity. There’s something deeper going on…” he paused for dramatic effect, “or at least I want there to be,” Eddie chuckled, breaking character as his voice snapped back into its normal cadence. “Originally I was just going to have it be that the old crone is a kind of sorcerer but we already sort of figured that, you know? I feel like that’s too predictable. I want it to be something, I dunno, more interesting?” 

You blinked as you willed your dopey mouth to move. “So she’s, um, going to be the final boss I take it?”

“Yeah, but that’s like, totally predictable right?”

“Hmm.” Resting your elbow on the desk and your finger between your lips, you thought for a moment. “What if she’s like, I dunno, possessed by something else? Like maybe there’s an even darker force at work and it’s just using her as a puppet or something?”

Eddie’s eyes lit up like Christmas. “I like the way you think.” His voice was tinged with a playful darkness.

You tucked your fingers behind your ear in reflex. “I mean I have no idea what it would be, but…”

“No—no that’s a good place to start. I think I actually have an idea of who could do that sort of thing, like in the monster manual. He’s a sort of… necromancer.” 

You nodded. “Oh yeah, that sounds plausible enough. Maybe there’s some sort of clue that gets left behind when she dies or something. Maybe there are like, markings on her body or some sort of strange amulet or… something that would lead to clues about who might be behind this.”

Eddie nodded along, his eyes growing wilder with every word. “Hey uh,” he began, leaning in like he was about to share a secret. “I don’t… know if anybody’s told you lately but…” his soft breath feathered your cheek, “you’re pretty brilliant.” 

It was the way he said it. Soft in tone, heavy with intention. Peering under his lashes like he wanted to kiss you. You swallowed, hard, as your heart pounded into your throat. “No uh,” you choked on your laugh, “not lately.” Breaking his gaze, you fiddled with your green grading pen and pressed your thumb nail into the gummy gripper. 

With startling animation, Eddie grabbed a spare piece of paper from the pile on your desk and snatched the pen out of your hand. 

“Hey!”

“Not like you were using it,” he teased, swiping your attendance clipboard to prop the sheet against. 

Your mouth fell open. “Well… no… but—”

He turned the pen over in his hand and clicked it a few times. “So much power in this little tool.” Putting it to the paper, he etched a green mark that would form the first letter of your first name. “Hmm what grade am I going to give you?” he tapped the pen against his lips.

You raised your eyebrows. “Oh you’re grading me now?”

“Well you definitely have attention to detail down, so A for that.” His hand hurried across the page, flourishing as he marked the A.

You sat back in your chair, thoroughly amused. “How generous of you.”

His eyes crinkled as he scribbled against the paper, clipboard cradled in his left arm to shield it from you. “Let’s see, what’s next… oh I know. Creativity. A plus for that one.”

You rolled your eyes, a weak diversion for how hot your face was getting. “How ‘bout I give you an A plus for being a total cheeseball?”

“Ohh wit — A for that one too.” His tongue darted out, nimble hand dragging your pen across the page. 

It was almost uncomfortable, the grip he had on you. How he could make you feel with a gesture, a word. “Ok enough flattery, give it back,” you said, reaching for the clipboard.

Eddie jerked it away. “Sense of humor, hmm, might have to give you a B for that one.” He shot you a smirk.

You balked. “Oh come on!”

“…B minus.” 

A laugh escaped you. “Eddie!”

His eyes were full of mischief as he scribbled frantically against the paper. “What, never got a B before? First time for everything, sweetheart,” he jested with a firm shake of his head. 

It was hard to be offended when your brain was short circuiting. 

“Maybe we can work on it together,” he offered, biting back a snicker.

Your brain clicked back on with the glare you shot him. “Okay, that’s it.” You lunged for the clipboard, but he was slow on the juke this time. Your fingers made purchase with the masonite slab.

Gripping it like a lifeline, he practically dragged you across his lap as he lurched away. It all happened so quickly. The swift tug he gave, your hand jutting out to brace the first thing in proximity — his denim clad thigh.

There was a pause in the movement. Heat lit up your whole body, radiating from the point of contact. 

His leg was warm and solid under your palm. So too was his shoulder nestled into yours as you reached across his lap, deeper into the bubble of his scent. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes, but in your close peripheral you could see his mouth; gaping just as yours was. 

Recovered from shock, the tension resumed in his tugging, and you responded with equal and opposite force. Your hand remained planted. For balance.

“So serious!” Eddie teased, wild hair bouncing as he jerked.

“I am serious, give it back.” Maybe it was your bright, airy giggles that gave you away, but he didn’t seem convinced.

God he was strong. You could feel the tremble of his arm emanating through the clipboard. Feel the flex of his bicep against yours as you fought his strength. You allowed yourself, for just a moment in the struggle, to glance at the one furthest to you. To follow his white, angular knuckles down to his wrist and see tendons flex against blue veins. To trace the curve of his inked forearm, to the bend of his elbow, to the bulge of his bicep. Your eyes lingered there. At the swell under his velvet skin. It surprised you, how large the muscle was, so much that it caused your grip to slip for just a second. 

It only made him tug harder, but not too hard, you noticed. Gentleman he was, trying to play fair. It was, however, hard enough to draw you further across his lap, further into his scent, close enough to slot your chest into his outstretched bicep and feel it tremble. You fought to regain your hold, hooking your fingers over the top and yanking back with an invigorated fervor. 

“Wai-wai-wait I’m not finished! I haven’t even gotten to ‘plays well with others’,” he wheezed, breaking into a warm, bubbly chuckle right against your ear.

You could barely eke out words. Sweat dampened your hand against the denim as his thigh flexed with every tug. A large, strong muscle that glided and stiffened under his heated skin. “Give it back,” you gritted weakly.

Soft curls tickled your cheek, feathered your lips and nose. You could smell it deeper than ever; that bright shampoo, that warm musk radiating from his neck. 

“What, you gonna give me detention?” he quipped, turning his head to steal a glance from you. 

Your mouth hung open. It was the way he said it, so defiant and cocksure. Daringly taunting for someone whose face was blotched pink. “Yeah, write you up for being a smartass,” you choked out with a pointed tug while your other hand burned a hole in his thigh. 

He gasped dramatically, pausing in the struggle. “You think I’m smart?” His tone was comically serious. It was scary how easy he could feign it on a dime. 

You deadpanned. “I’ve been telling you that this whole time. Maybe you should pay more attention.”

“Oh I’m paying attention.” 

“Oh yeah, to what?” 

It was all you could do not to stare at the ridges of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed, pink lips twitching, eyes darting between yours.

“That’s what I thought.” You seized the split second opening in his defense and snatched your dignity back.

His fingers clung desperately to the clipboard. “Ok—ok, I’ll give it back, I promise, just answer one question for me… about your book,” he panted, ghosting your lips with it.

It was those goddamn Bambi eyes that defeated you. Large, almond, pleading. His last, pathetic line of offense. “Fine,” you sighed.

“Is this a love story?” he murmured, close enough to taste his words.

They hung like a cloud. Heavy and potent. Threatening to burst. Hovering in the fractional distance between you.

“I—” you balked, voice trapped in your throat. 

The tugging ceased. Arms went slack. Fingers dampened masonite and paper. Eyes flicked back and forth. Yours caught the dip in his lids as they lowered to your lips, the long, gentle curve of his lashes as he peered at you from under them. 

You could not will your hand to move. It was glued there like his eyes were on you. Clammy fingers twitched against warm denim, itching to snake them further, to pull him closer, to commit each aching second to memory. 

Your eyes dipped next, quick enough to see his nerves make subtle twitches in his smile lines. To catch the parting of his plush, pink mouth that drew you like a magnet. Your heartbeat drowned out any sounds of pinballs. 

You could have done it. Moved your chin two inches. Snatched his pout.

Instead you swallowed and summoned a whisper. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

______

Your childhood home had gone rather unchanged since you had moved out of it. A little one-story ranch built in the 50s. Looking at it from the outside, it always amazed you that it could fit three bedrooms within its four walls. Plain and unassuming. White exterior, green shingled roof, a brick flower bed underneath the big bay window in front. Your mother had planted a tidy row of mums in it for fall. There was hardly a stray leaf to be found fluttering across the small, manicured lawn.

Inside you were greeted with the same paneled living room walls, painted powder blue now. The same family portraits from when you were seven, another from when you were ten, and then thirteen. Clean white carpet. Neat and orderly. Your old room had become a craft room soon after college. There was hardly a trace of you left. The Led Zeppelin and Beatles posters were the first to go, replaced with more tasteful decor like cross-stitched landscapes. A singer sewing machine was now perched on the desk you spent countless hours huddled over in study. Nick-knacks took up residence in your bookshelves. The purple walls were painted over with a powder yellow.

Mickey’s room remained largely unchanged. Bigger than yours, though you never had the heart to move over. It served as a guest room now, the full size bed still dressed in the quilt he used, the one your grandma made. Same cobalt blue walls. Your mother still dusted his trophies. 

What was most different was the table that stretched from the small dining room part-way into the living room. It was decorated with candlestick holders that looked like turkeys wearing hokey pilgrim hats. Those were definitely new. You wondered where your mother picked them up.

Both you and your mom would assume your roles — hers as host, and yours as helpful. You would busy yourself with the little things first. Details like folding linen napkins just how she instructed; in cascading triangles. You would sit at the end of the table and press daydreams into them. Quiet fantasies of warm nights and summer winds. Folding in details like the scent of leather and smoke inside the van, the sweet country air gusting through the windows. Details like how you imagined freedom would taste — slick and hot, hungry and lazy with room for seconds.

Once finished, you placed your folded secrets where they belonged — under the dinner forks.

You were making yourself useful with a can of cranberry sauce when your relatives arrived. The kind with whole cranberries. Clamping the gummy handles of the can opener and twisting as the teeth bit into the metal lid. Last year you’d made your own. Simmered sugar and orange juice in a pot over a real flame in your own house, added plump red berries and heated them until they burst. Dan’s mom said it was her favorite thing on the table.

This year you scooped cold, jelly chunks into an plain glass bowl, running the spoon down the ridges like a washboard. You were tapping off the bitter excess when the front door cracked open, ushering the sound of familiar voices colored in casual pleasantries. 

They would find you there eventually — in the kitchen putting rolls into a basket. It was effort, to smile and laugh and act like you were doing great. It was easier to act like you were busy. 

You hadn’t seen them since Connie and Cameron’s wedding. A sweltering day in mid-July. The last place on Earth you wanted to be. You’d spent most of it swallowing your feelings. Washing down saccharine cake with acrid mimosas. Sitting at a vacant table littered with party favors and sweating, half-empty glasses while your relatives slow danced to I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner. 

Your Aunt Helen and Uncle Larry spared no expense for their daughter and her new husband, from the country club venue to the live band. From the four course dinner to the three tiered tower of a cake.

Connie’s dress was beautiful. An ivory silk with princess puff sleeves and a train that stretched down the aisle. Like a limited edition Barbie still inside the box.

You hadn’t said much to her then — a tepid congratulations from behind a tired mask. It was all you could offer besides cash in a Hallmark greeting card. You doubted she noticed. She was busy anyway, as all brides were on their wedding day. It’s not like you were really that close to begin with. Not close in age with her being seven years your junior, not close in interests or hobbies. Not even close in proximity for most of her adult life, until recently. 

What you remembered more than anything was the way your grandma looked at her that day — like she’d hung the moon. She’d looked at you like that before of course — adorned with sashes in the parking lot as you clutched your first diploma. In the shade outside the the stadium as you cradled your second. When you reached across the table to present your ring to her.

You were reaching across the table to place the steaming basket of rolls by the cranberry sauce when you caught that look again — at Connie, the Sears catalog between them blanking the napkins you’d placed so carefully.

“See, I was thinking about this matching set with the dresser and changing table. See how it’s sort of built in like that?” Connie explained, leaning in toward your grandmother at the head of the table. 

Your stomach did a sinking somersault, eyes magnetized to her pastel pink fingernail tapping against the full spread of baby furniture. 

“Oh my, well isn’t that convenient. Yes I do like the natural wood grain of this one, the lighter color,” your grandma added.

You tried to swallow it away. Pretend like you didn’t even notice. Like the cheering coming from the living room was summoning you. You could still hear them as your stocking feet crossed over the divide from the hard wood to the plush carpet.

“I was thinking the same thing. It’ll go nicely with the paper we’ve picked out for the walls. Oh shoot, I meant to bring the sample. Sorry, I’ve been so spacey lately.” Connie’s sticky sweet chuckle clung to your hammering ears.

Suddenly your mother’s Precious Moments collection had never been so fascinating. Looking past your anguished reflection in the glass cabinet, you drank in their big, dopey eyes. Vignettes of little cherub hands clutching flowers, posing as firefighters and dentists. Droopy eyed children sitting on see-saws and garden benches. Frozen in their perfect little worlds.

“Oh that’s quite alright dear,” your grandma’s gentle reassurance echoed from the dining room. “I can come over and see sometime after my knees are healed, plenty of time between now and April.”

You tried to blink away the image — your old craft room on Clementine painted pastel pink or blue, filled with furniture from the pages of Connie’s catalog. It probably was at this point. Your eyes burned a hole in a ceramic cherub head as heat rose in your veins.

The sound of a whistle drew your attention to your uncle and cousins crowded around your family’s meager television. 

“Oh COME ON!” Larry bellowed as the plastic cushions squeaked under his shifting weight. “There’s no way that was a foul, you see that, Kevin?” he gestured to his son, slumped against the couch half asleep. “Total baloney.”

Cameron adjusted his glasses as he shifted forward. “Oh yeah his foot was totally on the line, I bet we can catch it on replay.”

“Where do they find these damn refs anyway? The academy for the blind? HA!” Larry sat back in his seat and cracked another beer, amused with himself.

You raked your eyes over the blurring sea of dolls again, drowning in your thoughts until one of them pulled you to the surface. On the middle shelf behind the one in the lab coat and stethoscope, this one stood in front of a big desk with a stack of books and an apple on it and held a large slab in front of her. You crouched down to read the fine print.

Report Card

Kindness…A

Mercy…A

Love…A

Faithfulness…A

Your stomach twisted into knots. Phantom touches ghosted over your hands and arms, wrapped themselves around your heart and squeezed. You caught your own eyes in the mirror behind the dolls — sad and droopy just like theirs, only painted with shame and longing instead. 

Uncle Larry’s voice boomed through the room again. This time it was coming from the television while the Larry on the couch shushed your cousins like they were even making noise to begin with.

“At Bessler Ford we’ve always got the best deals, and this Thanksgiving we’re practically GIVING these cars away!”

“Hey you guys seen the new one?” Larry called out to the rest of the house. 

The question was met with weak replies from Connie and Grandma looking up from the catalog in the dining room. You wondered if your parents even heard him from the kitchen. With lukewarm enthusiasm, you humored him with your attention, mind swimming with pinball thoughts, eyes glazing over as you stared at the screen. Then, like a sudden apparition, your mother emerged from the kitchen and snatched the remote from the end table.

“ZERO down, ZERO interest, we’re prating BEGGING you—”

Like a Wild West gunslinger quick on the draw, the TV blipped off with a fizzle.

“Aw come on!” Larry protested.

“Dinner’s ready, time to eat,” she stated firmly, her expression unamused.

As your family peeled themselves off the couch and shuffled over to the table, you found your seat on the carpet side of the divide. 

Even with the extra leaf there was no fitting nine at a six person table, so there had been some improvising. The two tables were covered in linens you didn’t recognize. Starchy and stiff, a cream brocade with a fall leaf pattern that shimmered in the light. Your mom must have steamed them to get the creases out from the packaging. Though matching, they couldn’t hide the fact that they were different shapes. 

Your side of the family took their places at the smaller square table, and your cousins found theirs at the rectangle.

Aunt Helen’s green halo of fruit jello jiggled as your dad triumphantly plunked the carved turkey in the center of everything. 

It rested awkwardly on the seam between the two tables, a sloping butterball bridge. 

You watched the juices gather at the lower end of it as everyone around you lowered their heads to utter the words of a half-hearted prayer, the meaning long forgotten with tired repetition. 

Barely a second of silence passed before a manicured hand shot out from your left, reaching to steady the platter so it favored her side. “You know, it really was nice of you to offer to host,” Helen said to your mother across from you, “but perhaps next year we can have the honor. We have plenty of space for it.”

The suggestion was met with a tight lipped smile. “Next year we’ll be back at mom’s,” she quipped at her younger sister.

The tension was thick enough to slice. A heavy backdrop to the clinking of silverware against ceramic as servings were doled out. You busied your hands with the nearest thing to you — a warm bowl of mashed potatoes, dolloping a generous helping onto your plate and pressing a crater into the center with the back of the spoon. You passed the bowl toward your right to your dad at the head of the smaller square table.

It was your grandmother who broke the silence. “Helen you do have a lovely home, if you really wanted to host I wouldn’t be opposed,” she said, breaking the molded perfection of the green halo with her serving spoon. “Less work for me to do anyway.”

You caught it. The flicker of dejection in your mother’s eyes, cast down at the crisp table linens. Fleeting and momentary before her shoulders resumed their rigid posture, before she corrected her expression and reached across the table to usher a thick slice of turkey breast onto her plate.

Helen looked delighted as she plucked a roll from the basket. “Well thanks, mom. Besides, this time next year there will be ten of us.”

You stared down at your plate, shuffling your green beans with your fork. 

The conversation would lighten up over steamy, buttered rolls and Betty Crocker stuffing. It would soften to a casual cadence about Cameron’s new accounting job at the dealership. How the pay raise from his previous job could afford he and Connie a house on Chestnut street. How the decorating had been going. How your dad was managing the hardware store this time of year. 

You would sit there in silence and unfold your secrets; smooth the linen against your lap and feel your sweating hand on his rigid thigh; the ghost of his breath at your lips when he asked you if this was a love story. You would prod at your potatoes and indulge in the fantasy of closing the gap. Conjure the cradle of his plush cupid’s bow and taste his wicked grin. Swallow the sensation of how it might feel to have a belly full of him.

Your spoon broke the gravy dam, flooding your plate.

“Dear, aren’t you going to have any liver dressing? You’re the one who made it after all. It’s quite good, isn’t it?” Your mother asked you, glancing at your grandma.

You choked on your daydream. “I—um…”

“It’s kinda chunky,” Kevin commented through a mouthful. “I mean compared to how grandma makes it.” 

Your grandma offered a sympathetic smile. “It’s a tricky recipe.”

She wasn’t wrong. It was tedious to put it mildly. It involved bread crumbs, cooked liver and ham, and a food processor. But it was a family recipe and she just had knee surgery so your thoughtful mother volunteered you to take up the reigns. How generous.

“It’s still quite good, isn’t it?” your mom asked her before turning back to you. “Why don’t you try some, you’ll see.”

You stared down at the square, pyrex dish. You never liked liver dressing. It looked like cat food cut up into little squares, the crispy edges making it only slightly more appealing. It was the texture that always got you. Mushy and homogenous. Admittedly you’d never actually tasted cat food but you wondered how it compared.

“No thanks, my plate’s already so full,” you said through feigned laughter.

There was that flicker in her eyes again, like the flames above the new ceramic turkeys. 

“Mom, come on, I don’t…” you glanced around at your relatives, busying themselves with the contents of their own plates. 

Your mother set her fork down. Her gaze flicked toward your grandma tucking her spoon happily into Helen’s jello. “Why don’t you try just one bite, sweetie.”

Huffing through your nose, you stared down at the dish, then back up at her. There was only one way this was going and you didn’t want to cause a scene. With a placid smile, you picked up the serving spoon and scooped a bite-size portion onto your plate, giving a single, solemn tap against the ceramic before setting it back in the tray.

You glanced around the still silent table, then back at your mother, still watching you intently from across the flickering candles. Defeated, you started down at the lump of mushy cat food on your plate. Scooping it up with your spoon, you brought it to your lips with a resigned sigh before opening your mouth. 

It wasn’t terrible. The rich umami of the fat and the seasonings almost made up for the texture, and quite honestly, the chunks helped. You still didn’t like it. You would never like it. You’d been forced to eat it your whole life and your opinion still hadn’t changed. Whether your mother could accept that was another subject.

You swallowed, finally, to your relief and probably everyone else’s, if they were paying attention. “I’d give it a solid C,” you stated flatly. Your mother was not amused.

“C’s get degrees,” Larry added, laughing at his own joke.

Your dad tipped his head to you. “Well I’d definitely give it a higher grade than that, but I guess you are the expert when it comes to grades, huh?” 

You humored him with a soft, pained smile, tucking into your stuffing again in hopes of replacing the taste in your mouth. You washed it down with a swig of champagne and the sweet tingle cleansed your palate. 

They left you alone after that, with thoughts too loud for your beverage to drown out. Pinball thoughts and summer thoughts. Echos of bright laughter off tile flooring. A rich, warm hum at the shell of your ear. Words like timeless and sweetheart. Loud enough to drown out dull conversations for the duration of the meal. 

“Mom can I go to Vinnie’s after this?” asked Kevin.

Helen shot him a stern look from across the table. “You may absolutely not go to Vinnie’s. I told you I don’t want you hanging out with that boy anymore.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “Come on, it’s not a big a deal.”

“It absolutely is a big deal. I said no, and that’s final,” she said, punctuated by the stabbing of her fork into white meat.

Candles wavered in the tension as orange wax dripped down the sides. Not a sound aside from chewing and silverware against ceramic.

It was your dad who broke the silence. “Ok, I gotta know what Vinnie did.”

Connie bit back a smirk, eyes shifting around the table. “Vinnie got suspended for bringing,” she glanced at your grandma before mouthing, “pot to school.”

There was an audible stir from the table.

Your grandma clutched her chest. “At St. Michael’s?”

You bit your lip at her reaction, cheeks quivering as you struggled to keep a straight face.

“I know, mom. It’s appalling,” said Helen, “I really thought we could have avoided this sort of thing by choosing a private school.”

It was then that Larry turned to you. “Yeah, I bet you see this kinda stuff all the time at Hawkins, don’t you?” 

It was a dig. You might have been polite but you certainly weren’t stupid. “Not as often as you think,” you said flatly, taking another bite of cranberry sauce to busy your mouth before something regrettable came out.

“You know, Kevin, I had a friend in high school who smoked pot, you know where that got him?”

Just what everyone needed, Uncle Larry’s wisdom. You sighed and stared blankly ahead. It was everything you could do to keep your eyes from rolling back into your head. 

“Flippin’ burgers at Benny’s, that’s where,” he concluded before taking a swig of his beer. He set it down with solid thud, as if that made his point.

Kevin huffed and sat back in his chair looking more disappointed than convinced.

You thought about Eddie Munson again, perfumed with cigarettes and covered in tattoos. Thought about him at this table and wondered where he’d fit. Between you and your Aunt Helen? Across from your mother pretending to enjoy liver dressing? At the seam between the square and the rectangle?

There used to be ten at the table. Before that there were eleven.

Your most secret daydreams wafted in on summer winds. They hinged on the changing of seasons and circumstances. You thought about this table without your chair. Of the flickering candles in your mother’s eyes; the way they hinged on you. 

Your hands toyed with the linen in your lap. As far fetched as a future was, you wondered, desperately, if both ends could ever meet.

If the two of you would ever have a place among the dolls.

______

Thanksgiving was Eddie’s second favorite holiday. After Halloween of course, for obvious aesthetic reasons. Having no extended family in Hawkins, his Thanksgivings had always been small. Some better than others. There was the one shortly after his dad went to jail for the first time. He was only six, but there were a few things he remembered — that there was no yelling at the table, that his mom seemed happy for once, and that it was his first Thanksgiving with Wayne. 

Nowadays Eddie and Wayne were like passing ships. Wayne would come home from work after Eddie left for school and go to sleep shortly after he returned. The weekends were a little better, though Eddie had a tendency to sleep in late, so that left them a few hours for early dinners together when he wasn’t galavanting around or getting into trouble.

Over the past nine years, the two Munson men had developed their own Thanksgiving traditions.  

Wayne wasn’t much of a cook, but each year he would go out and get the smallest turkey he could find and gather some essentials. The thing Eddie loved most was that Wayne always made it fun. He would always encourage Eddie to help in the kitchen, even when he was younger. 

The first staple dish was a green bean casserole. It was easy enough even for an eleven year old to open a can of cream of mushroom soup, to scoop out its contents and mix it with shredded cheddar and green beans. Simple enough to sprinkle crispy onions on top and pop it in the oven. Eddie always felt like a chef putting it together.

The second staple dish was a baked mac and cheese. Wayne picked up the recipe from a coworker in West Virginia. It was pretty simple too. More hearty than your traditional stovetop Kraft. It involved heavy whipping cream, eggs, and three different kinds of cheese. Nothing compared to baked Thanksgiving mac fresh out of the oven. It was thick, and rich, and the cheese was browned to a crisp on top. The noodles had just the right amount of chew and the center was melted perfection. 

As Eddie got older some new traditions developed. Wayne started letting him in on the beer when he turned 18. Something about “I know you’re doin’ it, might as well be doin’ it safe under my roof.” Wayne was pretty lenient about most things. More than anything, Eddie got the sense that Wayne just wanted him to feel like there a place he could call home. 

There was one Thanksgiving tradition that stood above them all — the sacred text, the soundtrack to every Munson Thanksgiving — Alice’s Restaurant.

Every year like clockwork Wayne would dig the record out of his collection and Arlo Guthrie would accompany the two of them as they strained pasta, cracked eggs, and opened cans. He would spin his long-winded sermon, his odyssey, about one fated Thanksgiving and the trials and tribulations of dumping trash where it shouldn’t go and how it can spare you from getting drafted. The song was nearly twenty minutes long and took up one full side of the record. Wayne would play it over and over to the point where both of them had most of the damn thing memorized, which was difficult to do considering it was mostly just Arlo rambling a story over chords with the chorus thrown in here and there.

Tucking his legs underneath him, Eddie cradled his heaping plate, shifting his balance so that it didn’t end up in his lap when the couch cushion dipped as Wayne took his spot. 

“Damn boy, I sure do hope your stomach’s as big as them eyes. Mine’s hurtin’ just lookin’ at all that.”

Eddie cracked a wicked smile and leaned in like he had some kind of secret. “You know, you can get anything…”

Wayne raised his eyebrows, playing along. “Anything?”

“Anything you want,” he quoted Arlo before shoveling a heap of stringy mac and cheese into his mouth. 

Wayne brought his broad, calloused hand down on top of his head and gave his mop of curls a playful ruffle. Eddie chuckled through a mouthful, balancing the plate in his lap.

It was good like this. Sitting on the couch with a heaping pile of food. The B side of the record spinning with fuzzy familiarity as Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving played quietly on the small TV in front of them.

He didn’t need a table to enjoy it. Besides, the couch was way more comfortable than any stiff chair. The paper towel tucked underneath his plate did as good a job as any to wipe his mouth. Eddie was thankful for moments like these, and Wayne more than anything.

“You still doin’ game night tomorrow?” he asked.

“Nah, school’s closed so I guess they get a pass,” Eddie answered, “I mean I thought about making everyone get together anyway but I dunno where we’d meet. Still gonna do band practice on Saturday though.”

“Oh yeah? Whatcha been practicing?”

“Uh, been kinda on a Sabbath kick lately. Hand of Doom, War Pigs, early stuff,” he said, barely denting his mashed potato mountain.

Wayne took a stab at his turkey. “Y’all sound pretty good. An’ I’m not just sayin’ that.”

“Well… thanks.” Eddie toyed with his food, running his fork along the solid, jelly ridges of the of cranberry sauce.

“You guys oughta play more places, maybe after you graduate.” 

He raised his eyebrows as he chewed. “You sound awfully confident about that last part.”

“I am,” Wayne started, “after last Friday anyway. Got to meet that teacher of yours who’s been givin’ you all sortsa help.”

Eddie choked, shielding his mouth with his fist as he hacked mashed potatoes from his windpipe.

“Y’ ok Ed?” 

“Yeah—yeah, just uh,” he wheezed. He met you? Jesus. He wasn’t sure if his head was spinning more over the lack of oxygen or the implications. 

“Y’ know, she sure had an awful lotta good to say about you.”

“Did she?” Eddie asked between coughs. A deep embarrassment bubbled in his gut. 

“Sure did. You really lucked out this year. She really seems to… I dunno. Get it. Get you. Real sweet young thing, I’ll tell you what.”

Eddie thought his mashed potatoes might end up on the carpet. 

“Ain’t hard on the eyes either,” Wayne muttered before taking a sip of his beer.

“WAYNE.” Eddie wanted to crawl out of his skin. Dig a hole. Bury his own skeleton in the back yard between the laundry posts.

There was a glint in his eyes, like he was catching onto something. “What? A fact’s a fact.”

“Ok enough, please.” Eddie ran his hands down his heated face, certain he was absolutely crimson. 

Wayne just chuckled harder, like the torture entertained him.

Suddenly he was eleven years old again. Standing outside the auditorium with his guitar slung over his shoulder as parents and classmates filtered out in droves. 

“Come on boy, time to go.” 

Eddie fussed with his stiff pleather jacket, looking left and right with a growing desperation. “Can we wait just like… five more minutes? I wanna tell Chrissy good job.”

Wayne’s eyes sparkled with a curious mischief, “Oh I see. Got a little crush huh?”

Eddie hardened his lips into a line and fumed. “I do not, I just wanna say good job. God.” He glanced around,  growing claustrophobic, jacket suffocating him with heat. “You know what, let’s… let’s just go,” he huffed as he marched toward the glass exit.

What was he going to do? Storm off? Slam the door like a fucking child?

No. Instead, Eddie just sat there, staring a hole into his heap of Thanksgiving as the plate grew heavy in his sweating hands. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Oh come on, Ed. I’m just teasin’.”

There it was again. The heat that lit his skin like fluorescent lights as he stared down problems he was too stupid to solve. 

“It’s fine,” Eddie muttered, vision blurring as Snoopy doled out helpings on the television. The record skipped with a steady rhythm in the silence of its end.

You had met Wayne. He knew now, who you were to him. There was no unknowing that. What did he think? That he was going to bring you by some day? Introduce you as his girlfriend? Would Wayne even believe it or would that be a joke to him too?

In the countless visions of you that played out like tapes in his mind, this part always came in fuzzy. Now it was prickling static. 

He wanted to get up; to wrap his plate in tinfoil and throw it in the fridge; retreat to his bedroom like he always did. But he was already doing a piss poor job at playing it cool and he knew that would only make it worse.

So he sat there and ate it. Swallowed his shame and frustration, chased it with a solemn resignation. 

Sometimes he could almost forget. When the books sprawled out on the big desk came from his home and not his locker. When the names on your tongues were from fiction and not history. When impulse took hold of his hands and they took hold of yours. 

Sometimes his visions were more unbelievable than his wildest campaigns. You, hammering your next novel into a keyboard. Him, surprising you with kisses and a sandwich prepared in a kitchen you both shared. A home together in some far off place that neither of you knew the name of yet.

Sometimes, in the bubbling laughter that clouded the space between you, he could almost forget his place.

By the time the credits rolled on the TV, he couldn’t stomach another bite. 

“I think, uh,” Eddie looked down at the half-eaten mess on his plate, “I think my eyes were too big for my stomach.”

He got up without another word, dumped the scraps into the garbage, and resigned to his room.

______

Eddie fluttered open his heavy lids, adjusting his eyes to the darkness that swallowed him. It had been light out when he’d closed them, though he barely remembered doing so.

He wiped the drool from his face and peeled the now silent headphones off his sore ears. The clock on the nightstand painted his vision with a red neon glow; a tether back to reality. 7:07 PM.

Reaching toward his right, he pawed the air for the cord to the hanging lamp beside his bed and flicked it on when he made purchase with the switch. 

Before the turkey’s tryptophan took hold, he had been enjoying the cool breeze at his face as he drove his wagon leisurely along the trail through the Ashmar forest. 

Eddie squinted against the light and rubbed his eyes as he glanced down at your world in his lap, still open right where he left off. The weight of it was like an extra blanket; heavy like a hug. It beckoned him to stay in the toasty cocoon of his bed. Though he had half a mind to get up and take a piss, the world outside was steeped in November’s chill, so instead he took the path of least resistance and dove right back in.

As much as Cybelle was concerned about illness, it was difficult for them to travel together and still keep their distance, but they seemed to have figured it out. They picked up a small tent and collapsable cot while in Torgaard which worked well enough for sleeping arrangements. While on the move, Lazarus had his place; in the driver’s seat, and Cybelle had hers; in the caravan. She would busy herself over the wood stove, crafting strange food and concoctions while Lazarus tried his best to stay alert and steer the horse.

Sometimes she would peek her head out the large window atop the singular door and talk to him. He enjoyed those moments most of all. Lazarus was learning all sorts of new things; what daily life was like in Myrne, what the city looked like and how agriculture worked for them. What Myrnish people thought of the world beneath and what had surprised her about it so far. Namely the flora and fauna. The weather. How diverse it all was. The people too. He would often catch her studying plants when they stopped to camp; taking samples and storing them in jars, pressing them to pages, sketching little drawings in her thick leather book.

“You know I would love to visit Myrne,” he turned his head and called to her, “once this is all over anyway.”

Small, russet fingers curled around bottom of the ornate caravan window frame, followed by a pensive, crescent moon face. “Many people want to visit Myrne.” 

“Right, well, not many people actually know someone from Myrne,” he added, “and I just happen to be so lucky.” 

Cybelle’s eyes crinkled in a soft, sad smile. “I would love to show you,” she began, “but I know they will forbid it.”

The wheels of the caravan creaked along the dirt path, shifting their weight with a soft thud as they drove over a rock. “Even just one person? What if I wore a mask, like yours?”

Cybelle shook her head, “The council is very strict. Even merchants are not allowed beyond the docks. There have still been plagues, even with these rules. One in my lifetime. I was quite young but I still remember… more than I would care to. We lost… so many people.”

He could hear the sorrow twinge her voice. Lazarus gave a solemn nod, staring down at the worn leather reigns as they plodded along. “I’m sorry,” he offered, “I’m sure you knew more than a few of them.”

Cybelle hummed softly, folding her arms across the bottom of the window to cradle her head. “I know just about every family in Myrne.”

Sunlight laced through the trees, dappling the road in patches of shade and light. They hadn’t seen another soul in miles. Perhaps he was becoming a bit stir crazy from all the driving but the further they plodded, the louder the questions that rolled around in his head became. 

“Forgive me if this is, uh,” he searched for the word in the leaves, “inappropriate, but with such a small population, how do you prevent, um,” his fingers toyed at the nape of his neck, “like, accidentally marrying your second cousin?”

To his relief, it earned a big, bright laugh from Cybelle, “We are not that small, around three thousand. But yes, sometimes you must be careful,” she chuckled, propping her head against her arm. “We do keep records of such things.”

“Ah,” he confirmed with a single nod as his face bloomed with heat. 

It encouraged a glimmer of mischief from Cybelle’s umber eyes. “There was a… how you say… practice, I suppose, long before the plagues when we were more open to outsiders where—”

The words were snatched out of her mouth by a sudden halt of the caravan, jerking both of them backward with startling force. The horse cried out, rearing to her hind legs in shocked protest.

“Woah—woah!” Lazarus braced himself against the wood panel in front of the driver’s seat and whipped his head around. Unable to see anything behind the mass of painted wood, he stumbled out onto the dirt to get a better look. “Just keep Turnip calm!” he called to Cybelle as she clambered off the floor.

He scanned the perimeter of the wagon. There was nothing he could see right away, that was until he looked down. Two thick vines, moving like snakes, were actively coiling themselves around the spokes of the wooden wheel. They were covered in tiny, glass-like thorns, and they seemed rather perturbed. He imagined it might have had something to do with running them over. Lazarus cursed. “We’re gonna need uh—a blade of some sort,” he shouted. 

“There’s the knife I was using by the stove,” Cybelle called back, running her hand gently along Turnip’s dapple grey neck.

“Uhh, I think we need something bigger, come take a look at this.”

Cybelle gave Turnip a soft, final pat as she turned to follow Lazarus’ voice around to the back of the caravan. She gasped when she saw it.

“Ever seen one of these… monstrosities in your books?” he asked, gesturing to the vines.

Cybelle crouched down, looking more fascinated than horrified, marveling at the way they moved, like prowling serpents. “No,” she whispered. “They must be very strong though, to stop us like that.”

Watching them coil around the spokes filled Lazarus with an eerie dread. He shuddered to think what he would find if he followed their length into the forest. That was when he remembered the wood axe. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Please just… keep your distance.”

The axe was on the floor when he found it, as was the kettle, and the utensils, and dozens of other objects that had been launched from their careful placement. Lazarus left the caravan with a heavy sigh.

“Alright, step aside,” he said, tapping the handle of the axe against his open palm.

Cybelle scurried backward, clearing a safe distance. 

Gripping the smooth wood, Lazarus approached the vines. He shuffled his boots into the dirt as he widened his stance, taking aim about a foot from the wheel as the menacing serpents continued their slow coil. He swung with his full force, and just like chopping wood, he let the weight of the axe do its job. It severed the vines with a clean chop. Like snakes without heads, they recoiled into the forest. He swore he heard them hiss. 

Leaning against his long axe with a proud flourish, Lazarus glanced over at Cybelle. She seemed more captivated by the what remained of the plants than his demonstration, much to his quiet disappointment. 

Cybelle shuffled over to the wheel, fascinated by the green, glassy specimens. They had fallen to the  road in a heap upon severance.

“Maybe we ought to invest in a sword when we get to Fenwood,” Lazarus half-joked, “More dangerous out here than I—”

The vine that shot out from the forest snatched the words right out of his mouth, morphed them into a scream as it seized his forearm with a searing sting. In an instant he was on the ground, clawing at the dirt with his other hand as the vengeful, severed serpent lurched him from the road. 

With startling quickness, Cybelle stumbled to her feet again. She snatched the axe from the ground and chased after him.

The pain was blinding as it dragged him. Small, glassy hooks like a fire in his forearm. It made the sticks that scraped his body feel like tickles. The rocks that raked under him like a dull massage. Though his other hand flailed desperately at ferns and the damp, dead leaves that blanketed the forest floor, there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t pull back. He couldn’t stop. All he could do was scream and panic. It was hard to tell how fast he was really going, how much time had actually elapsed. The seconds felt like agonizing hours. But when he heard the dull thud of footsteps by his head, there was a glimmer of hope for his misery to end. 

A guttural scream proceeded a loud THWACK.

It would seem Cybelle had decent aim, because he wasn’t moving anymore. Clambering off the forest floor, he righted himself as quickly as he could in his spinning, pounding world. It was anyone’s guess how long they had before the next retaliating strike, and he wasn’t about to play the odds. 

“RUN,” Lazarus shouted, bolting toward the caravan as Cybelle kept pace. The axe seemed even larger clutched in her small hands. Under any normal circumstance he would have been a gentleman and taken back the burden, but this was anything but normal.

He didn’t even look at his arm. He didn’t have time. He didn’t want to. He could feel it though — the blood as it trickled down his wrist, the sting of the thorns that were likely still lodged there. 

Both he and Cybelle were barely on the driver’s platform before he was at the reigns, commanding Turnip to move with a quick snap of the leather. The dappled grey horse trotted forward with a rare sense of urgency.

Lazarus leaned back against the driver’s seat, chest heaving, more grateful than he’d ever been in his life to feel the cool wind at his face. They were a fair distance up the road before he even looked down. The sleeve of his white linen shirt was completely saturated in a wet crimson that clung to his skin.

Cybelle emerged from the caravan with an armful of bandages and jars and took the seat to the left of him on the other side of the door. 

Lazarus stared blankly ahead, mind still numb from the ebbing panic. 

“Let me see your arm,” Cybelle said gently.

He met her large eyes, now brimming with a soft concern. Slowly, he raised his trembling arm to hover in the space between them; the gap between the seats. 

Cybelle’s fingers twitched above the soaked linen. Gingerly pinching the cuff of his sleeve, she peeled it back to reveal his angry wound. 

Lazarus turned his head toward the forest, unable to look. “How bad is it?” he asked dejectedly. 

Cybelle paused for a moment, assessing the damage. “There are still some thorns, I need to pull them out. They are not too deep though,” she reassured. “You will be alright.”

It was the warmth in her voice that made him turn his head to face her, to face his wound — the mangled trail of lacerations that encircled his arm. Some of them did look quite deep, to him anyway. The bleeding seemed to have stopped on its own for the most part, thanks to his shirt. 

Shifting so that her feet now faced him, Cybelle scooted forward in her seat so that her lap was below him and grabbed a pair of tweezers. Her hands hovered above his arm, and for a moment Lazarus wasn’t sure if it was the rocking of the wagon or her proximity to him that caused her hands to tremble. There was a deep fear in her eyes, and not just from the wound.

His palm faced up at her, close enough to feel the heat of her body. 

In their brief time together they had always kept their distance. Lazarus in the driver’s seat, Cybelle in the caravan. Separated by walls and windows, tents and masks. At night, she would indulge him with her naked smile from across the campfire. Blinding and brilliant, like the crescent moon above them.

Lazarus held her eyes from across his offering; a bloody bridge that hovered in the space between them. 

With hesitant acceptance, she lowered her fingers slowly, then her eyes, guiding his arm to rest across the bandage in her lap.

The wink of her tweezers in the sunlight encouraged him to study the trees again. He gripped the leather reigns to brace himself.

Her touch was delicate and tentative as she steadied his arm, like his skin was a hot iron, and hers at risk to burn.

He flinched when she pulled the first thorn.

“Sorry,” Cybelle soothed.

He flinched again when she pulled the second. And the third, fingers writhing against the warm silk of her dress. 

“I know it hurts, but you must stay still,” she quelled. 

Lazarus allowed himself a glimpse back at her large, uneasy eyes that shone over the crescent moon. “H—how many more are there?” He didn’t dare lower his gaze to count.

With deeply furrowed brows, Cybelle scanned his arm, “Perhaps…fifteen?” she guessed. “They are small, it is difficult to say.”

Lazarus gave a heavy sigh and slumped into the seat, straining to find some comfort in the greenery that passed them. His head bumped dejectedly against the wagon as it swayed along the path. Fifteen. He tried not to think about it, but instead found himself wondering how badly it would scar. His fingers trembled as he braced himself for the next sting.

Instead he felt a hand.

Featherlight touches at the heart line of his palm. 

Lazarus glanced over his shoulder, expecting to find fear in those deep, upturned ovals. Instead there was something much softer. 

It was hiding just under the curve of her lashes, in the tender brush of her fingertips — a quiet fascination. 

His chest rattled, with more than just adrenaline. Her eyes would surely raise at any moment and he braced himself to meet them, but instead she did something much bolder.

She lowered her palm. 

It nestled into the groove and slope like it belonged there. Her skin like warm, russet earth against the vast, snowy landscape of his. When her fingers got brave enough to curl around the back, he allowed his pale digits to follow suit. 

They sat like this a moment, staring at the knot of palms and fingers with a gentle awe. Her cheeks dimpled under the ivory crescent, and despite the radiant sting, Lazarus found himself smiling too.

Finally, Cybelle met his eyes and readied her tweezers again. “Are you ready?” 

Lazarus tightened his grip. “I am now,” he said softly.

There were sixteen thorns. Lazarus counted. They fell one by one to the floor of the caravan. He didn’t flinch at all this time. 

She was quick and methodical, and when her work was finished, she painted his wounds with a soothing balm that smelled of mint and fresh green herbs. The sting faded to a tingle. 

What he noticed more than anything was how her fingers lingered as they left his hand to wrap the bandage.

“Thank you,” Lazarus uttered, running his hand along the neatly spiraled ridges of the dressing.

Cybelle gave a singular, dutiful nod and shyly gathered her supplies. She resumed her place, inside, and got to work reestablishing order in the mess of objects strewn about the floor. It was quiet the rest of the ride into Fenwood. 

As they approached the city, the trees grew denser, the path grew darker. Moss hung like tapestries over lichenous limbs. Frogs croaked in chorus from every direction. A peaty moisture hung heavy in the air. 

All signs pointed toward the same conclusion — they were entering the boglands. 

Eddie sat back against the heap of pillows and rubbed his arm. The one with the puppet tattoo. 

He would always wonder what you said about him, to Wayne. The words you used. Verbatim. You were always so good with them. He would watch you wield them every day, like a weapon or a spell. You could paint worlds for him as quickly as his eyes could gather them. 

It was when he was next to you that you seemed at a loss, like the concrete walls were listening, like they would shatter the illusion the two of you had conjured. It was safer to speak with your eyes, your hands, your laughter. 

Despite the volumes left unspoken, the questions left unasked and unanswered, the volume in his lap had answered one:

That it was, in fact, a love story.

______

A/N: I want to thank everyone for their patience and support while I wrote this chapter. I fought a lot of inner dragons to bring it to you, but I’m in a much better mental place now. I’m learning so much about myself in the process of writing this story, my first one of this length, and how best to keep my inner flame alive. It can be scary when it dims, but it's bright as ever now. 

I was admittedly very nervous about including so much family backstory for Teach, but I felt it was important for the telling of the story. The Precious Moments teacher doll does actually exist. It’s called “Love Never Fails” and it came out in 1984. I couldn’t have conjured it better if I tried.

As always, nothing encourages me to continue writing this story more than hearing what you think about it in comments, reblogs, and asks. It's truly the most rewarding thing for me as a writer.

I’ll be serving up some piping hot drama in 13 so stay strapped, folks!

Taglist:  @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @mantorokk-writes @loveshotzz @trashmouth-richie @carolmunson @wordscomehither @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @latenighttalkingwithgrapejuice @bibieddiesgf @idkidknemore @alizztor @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @alienthings @eddiemunsonsbitcch @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @ruby-dragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi

[squiddy-god]

his ugly orange hair

This is a vent fix I wrote so please keep that in mind lol

CW : young! Konig (just joined the military) roommate reader, civilian reader, trans man reader, ftm reader, bad breakup, hurt comfort, panic attack,

1.4k

They had left. You had tried, Lord knows you tried. Again and again tears rolled down your face, cheeks red and eyes darkening with the slow flood of stains that painted you like glass after rain. Your chest heaved with the great weight of your lungs and the world, again… again… again again again Again Again AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN OVER AND OVER. until you choked on your breath and tongue, tears stinging until you gaged and sputtered. Left a hopeless sobbing puking mess on your bed. The bed was cold, soft quilted sheets like a prison. 

Several days were spent in a spiral of thoughts and flurries of emotions. You hadn't told your mom yet, didn't think you could bear to, but the long dragging scrape of your eyelids forced you to blink back tears. It had been a day and in cliche of a cliches you rifled the cabinets of your two bedroom apartment. Yours- you laughed, you had shared it with your roommate for 2 years now. A tall young man about 19 like you. Unlike your study abroad program that had accepted you on a small but feasible scholarship, he was a military man partnered with a pmc. Really it was his apartment. Over the years you grew close as friends when he was home for the time between deployments. You didn't even think in your delirium and haze that today was the day he'd get home. 

The sound of rustling cardboard and the gentle noises of bathroom products sliding against the shelfs of the small closet filled your ears. Half empty jar of manic panic sat temptingly in the back, behind body butters and discarded Colognes. Not what you where looking for. Finally you found it. Reaching in you grabbed a reflective box, iron brand permanent box dye. Better then splat red, you thought to yourself as you cut the box with your kitchen scissors. 

Looking down at your hands you felt the bile rise up in your chest, the burning in your eyes as you blinked back tears. Your hair had gotten longer, shaggy and slightly unkempt in the recent weeks leading up to the cat and mouse game that was scheduling a haircut. It brushed uncomfortably against your neck and that gnawing feeling from your childhood returned. It was like your face morphed in the mirror, hideously soft, lashes too long, and you wanted to look away. Lose ,bright shirt, the sleeves and neck cut off and the thing ruined by stains of black and red and blue. The dye shirt, a staple and testament to your love of this particular activity. 9pm bad decisions. Your chest is devoid of its usual bindings and it eats at you a little until you find yourself rifling to find a hair tie. 

Snip snip snip, clips of uneven hair fall until you are happy with the slightly uneven results and scraggly look it gives. It makes you smile.

First wash, then dry before you once again clumsily drag out a mixing bowl and brush fully determined to make this a masterpiece. But as you slipped on your blue gloves, once a pretty flower design now covered in blue and black from the last incident, you couldn't help but give into that child.the urge to dip your hands into the goopy mix. In goes the bleach, followed by a sloppy measure of vol. 20 developer. 

And the goop called your name- brush discarded as a mixing tool alone you slathered the goopy mix into the strands of your short hair, realizing in panic as you didn't mix enough. Struggling with your nemesis the gloves you cursed under bated breath before managing to get one off so you could once again arduously unscrew the caps and re-mix in another sloppy bit of measuring. 

The counter of the small bathroom was a mess. Neither you nor Konig were particularly neat- a mouth watch in the corner and on the other side a clear blue cup with two toothbrushes inside it. Behind the rim of the white sink were two razors, one missing its guard from frequent use and the other beginning to rust because you forgot to dry it. Sprawling in the mess was a small vial of your testosterone, and also the gell. Closest to the door was a box of tampons and- only now- vol. 20 developer. Ibuprofen next to Tylenol and a children's cough syrup that was God knows how old. Vix vapor rub and a tooth paste. Messy. The hair in the center of your head gradually turned a light blond as your sides and back didn't take the same. Disgruntled you at least hoped for a cool effect. Your scalped itched and nose burned at that familiar comforting smell that was hair bleach. Bowl and brush discarded into Water and sink, you braved the cold frigid touch of the shower head to rinse your bleach soaked hair. 

Should you be going into this right after bleaching and drying? No. But hesitation seems foreign to you as you take out a second brush and bowl, mixing the copper orange until your concoction looks about right. 

You look like a highlighter and it brings out all of your joy. You stare and wait as time ticks by with your head slathered in that ghastly orange. “Heilige Scheiße, sehr orangefarbener kleiner Herr” his voice heavy with his accent and light laughter. He towered in the doorway, arms raised as his large fingertips hug on the top of the frame. He leaned down slightly to watch you and your bright orange hair. Your position didn't go unnoticed by him, sitting on the floor by the tub and showering with a bowl of orange remnants on the toilet. It also didn't go unnoticed by the glassy look in your eyes or the almost imperceptible darkness forming around your waterline from the tears. Your chopped up hair and of course the slightly patchy orange. “I'll help wash your hair, ja Süße?” You smiled and he stalked off the few paces to his room in order to strip his tactical gear away. When he returned he wore a black compression shirt and plaid red lounge pants- the ones you got him last Christmas- and his mask, a nasty habit he picked up from his time serving. He almost never takes it off, when he has it off the gnawing feeling returns. That paranoia and anxious scratching that just won't quit. He doesn't go out much either, preferring to stay home where his face can be on display without anxiety overcoming him in that snippy aggression that seized him. You knew being at home in the little apartment would take a few day before the mask slipped off again, yet to your surprise as he kneeled down he pulled it off. His naturally ginger hair had once again lost much of the length it usually held, although somewhat more lax and not buzzed, you missed the usual small man bun that would hold back his deep auburn hair. His face was aged beyond its years by suffering and work, sharp angles and elegant defined slopes covered with the light scruff of his facial hair that he probably had not had a chance to shave in a few weeks. His cleft lip pulled slightly on the shape of his lips but blended in for the most part with the silver scars littering his face. Next to his mouth and along his jaw, under his eye on his cheek bone, threw his right eyebrow and most concentrated in the area of his mother and lower jaw the pale scars decorated his skin now don't peppered all across him. You smiled seeing his face, interesting and handsome. The latter a thought you beat down with a stick. “Want to tell me why you've been crying huh?” He asked as if he already knew. You nodded and squeaked out a strained yes before leaning over the tub to rinse the dye. His large palm cradled the back of your head as the cold water rushed past your eyes in a stream of orange. Thick fingers pressing ever so gently into your tender scalp scrubbing the remains of orange goop and leaving only one the patchy hair behind. He rubbed the dampening towel  against your hair as you explained to him you ex and how you where now on the hunt for a partner. He chuckled, that deep rumbling sound that was a endless source of delight. “kleiner Schlingel- you don't have to look far” he said confidently, yet his piercing green eyes normally devoid of much feeling searched yours for a sliver of Reassurance. 

You delivered, leaning against his massive shoulder as your ugly orange hair soaks his shirt. But he didn't mind. He loved your ugly orange hair. 

1.4k words

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 1

A Homelander X F!Reader fanfic

A/N: I am writing this alongside another fic so sorry for the publishing schedule altho I got 2 chapters done, this is my dadlander fic and hyperfixation explorations

Sypnosis: Homelander never wanted to remember you again, but after welcoming Ryan into his life, he thought of you, and the lie that tore you two apart, but now... thinking back, thinking of your betrayal-- was he perhaps wrong about who the father of your unborn child was? Did you perhaps told the truth all those years ago? That it was his.

Tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characthers, child neglect, dadlander, romance.

Chapter One

Blue

It had been by pure chance, whether it had been a combination of forced reminiscing and exhaustion that Homelander had thought of you after all these years; These meetings had been proven wasteful of his time, nothing the PR and Digital Marketing departments could come up that was good enough, and somehow he had gone from irritated to just defeated.

He sulked in his chair listening to their meandering voices brainstorming potential ideas as to how Ryan’s new origin story had to be developed and handled, whether it was too squeaky clean or absurd, how much could they risk offending the child, how much of his mother should be kept from the public (not that they were very aware of the fine details, as Homelander had been more than just vague about it, he had simply no intent to divulge about his son’s conception, upbringing or his mother’s fate) Homelander would never allowed the public to look with pity or fear at his son, he would not allow them to brand him as a murdered over an accident– he could still hear his son weeping and shaking in his sleep, waking up in a fright, seeing invisible blood in his hands.

Homelander had grown overprotective of the boy, he was made indestructible but his mind and heart were glass, still pure and uncorrupted by the awful world they inhabited, he would never allow anything else to taint it and bring him nightmares– so this had to be perfect.  

To make it worse, the kid was growing impatient and depressed, forced to stay in the tower until this story was concocted, he couldn’t attend school or interact with other children until he was trained and learned his lines, making his father increasingly more paranoid that his son was slowly growing resentful. 

“Mister Homelander… what if we base Ryan’s mom off one of your other ex-girlfriends?” A rather tired intern had muttered– preferably somebody dead…”

The room shot daggers at the nameless intern but Homelander simply sat in silence and gave it a thought, he had plenty of unsuited mates disposed and handled in the past, the amount of NDA issued made for a small but noticeable stack alone, he looked at the table and the box of cannolis that the group had been munching on, looking at the small printed italian flag on the box’s side.

That he thought of you for the first time in years.

You had been his new personal chef, your interactions minimal as you brought him his meals, he hadn’t known at first how heartbroken you’d look as he returned half touched dishes over and over, it had become a competition against yourself to make him eat, every leftover morself a cause of grief, as if your honor and ego had been beaten mercilessly with every dirty plate.

One evening, Homelander sat on his couch watching a documentary by Orson Wells, he hadn’t noticed you there as you brought him dinner, the way you looked at him with spite waiting to throw the most likely untouched plate of pasta back at his face, it would get you fired and possibly killed but you couldn’t take it anymore. You were a chef, a professional, you had turned down a dream job and left the restaurant you loved for the honor of being Homelander’s personal chef, the job that would open you a thousand doors but it was without reward now it felt like your biggest mistake, no matter what you made he fucking hate it but offered no feedback, you had no clue what he wanted, what he disliked and liked, what he craved, or how he liked his meals– he simply left your food untouched.

Diverting his gaze from the film, he noted your food and that you were still there with a block of pecorino and a grater in your hands.

He stood up with a groan, lifting the silver cover to reveal boring pasta and bolognese sauce, it wasn’t styled exceptionally, it didn’t even look too appetizing, it was just some fresh linguine covered in meat sauce, he stared at you as if this was some sort of joke but your dead eyed expression was off-putting.

“Would you like some fresh cheese, sir?” Your voice might as well have been automated.

Frankly he didn’t want any cheese but pasta had to be eaten with cheese, he gestured for you to grate watching an off-white pile form on top of his pasta with no intention of stopping.

“That’s enough” he said sharply, he took the plate looking at the mound and then back at you who was still in the room, he wrapped his fork with the pasta doing his best not to stain his suit.

You just wanted to save the time with coming back to pick up the insults, but there he took the first bite of this homely dish heis eyes opened up, there hadn’t been anything special, you simply had taken some left over pasta and brought a jar of your grandma’s sauce, a recipe she had guarded fiercely ever since she stole it from some italian friend’s mom many many years ago, you adored this recipe, it had been the reason why you fell in love with food, you loved visiting your grandmother when it was time to jar the sauce, and when she served you a humbled serving of bolognese– he gave it a second bite letting the tangy and fresh sauce wash over him.

And that’s when he finally noticed you for real, how closely you watched him eat, smiling as he took another mouthful and mixed more of the fresh pecorino, there had been something warm about this meal, it lack pretense, it was something that no high end 5-star restaurant would serve but it tasted… warm.

From that point on, he looked forward to his meals, wanting to see what the fuck had you done to make food taste worthy of his body, noting you would personally deliver the meals after he failed to clean the plate on the previous one, he hadn’t even known your name but he noticed you.

You were cute, your voice had gained some warmth since that awkward first impression, he could tell it was these homemade meals that tasted the best, as if you put everything you had to make them taste delicious, there were no frills with these, just good homemade fair, made with love, he had began asking for things he had been curious but never served as if they were above his status like meatloaf, carbonara, shepherd's pie, etcetera. These were the kinds of meals the families he’d seen growing up behind the screen would eat, he had been the first to strike a conversation.

You listened, you talked, and before he knew it, he had found himself asking for your company at the dinner table. You were hesitant at first but he was handsome and charming, but above all he was the Homelander! While apprehensive you still took to his offer just to smugly enjoy seeing him enjoy your food, proud that you had triumph in this battle where so many had been defeated, you’d cracked the code and god it felt good.

It became part of your weekly schedule, having dinner at his penthouse and chatting about anything, he loved talking and eventually it became apparent that it wasn’t because he was in loved with his voice but simply… he hadn’t got anybody who enjoyed listening to him, you were attentive, you responded well and even if you weren’t sure about something you weren’t going to let him feel as if you weren’t approachable anymore, you were more than happy to hear him explain to you a topic because his eyes gleam like those of a small kid telling you about something new they learned at school– in truth you loved how happy he became when he could rambled about things, as if nobody in the world had ever given five seconds of their time to let him talk about strange events from history and his theories, tonite he wanted to talk about the Dyatlov Pass incident and star formations that he was sad that he couldn’t see from New York, wishing you could see how the sky looked like from his cabin.

You’d spend more and more time in his home as the conversations grew more frequent, as he wanted to hear more about your interests and hobbies.

Thinking of how cute you looked while baking, how cute your laugh was, of the way you always held him after long days, that first real date, that first time you held hands, the first shy kiss after dinner.

As he took a long whiff to catch some of that gentle sweetness, he thought of the last day you were together.

That sound.

The thing that’s the size of a bean.

The anger, his heart shattered, all the colors of the world had dissipated when he saw that tumor growing in your stomach, he wanted to hurt you as much as you did, to shut you up as you threw excuses, begging him to believe you.

But that thing wasn’t his.

It couldn’t be his.

You said it was his, that the baby you didn’t even know was inside you was his, but he couldn’t be the father.

His eyes widened, he stood up and left the room, his mind focused on your name. They had tried getting his attention but could only give up as nobody would dare to chase after him, Homelander found himself entering the analytics offices towards the first chump he spotted.

“Can you find me information on a former employee?” He said firmly, the junior staff jumped at his seat nodding frantically– their name was Y/N L/N.” he said quietly.

The staffer didn’t have to do much work, you were easy to find, your name attached to Brooklyn’s most loved pizzeria for the last couple years, your face on their socials, and even a video from some food channel following what it was like working in Brooklyn’s hottest pizzeria had you in it, your shop had been listed as the best two years in a row, Homelander couldn’t bare looking at your face, but he asked for an address.

That night after spending time with Ryan who seemed to be sulking more and more, as he watched him eat his dinner, he thought of you, the kid was meandering whatever was on his plate didn’t feel appetizing, his meal was no different from what it was served in a high-end restaurant and the kid had no desire to eat it, he wanted Ryan to have the finest things when all he wanted was to have his mom’s tacos– his son opted to head for bed early skipping dinner all together, it was almost 10 pm, a heavy feeling had been boiling in his stomach since that meeting.

Taking flight all the way to some red brick Brooklyn projects, hovering about until he encountered you.

Time had been kind to you but you looked tired, the glow in your skin now dulled, your appearance unkempt, your clothes worn and old, your shoes the nicest thing you worn but they still creased and dirty, you looked beyond exhausted, your eyes half closed and your arms dangling on your sides as you carried a couple grocery bags, he looked around at the constructions and rubbish, at the hooligans and wannabe gangbangers, and the rancid smell. Hundred buildings all the same, he wanted to get closer as he watched you walk alone in those sticky white painted brick walls, you stopped suddenly by one of the brown doors, there were only four other doors in that floor, waiting patiently, an old lady opens the door, you two exchanging pleasantries as you handed the lady two of your grocery bags, a small dog came to say hello and then… there she was.

She was small for her age, she didn’t jump with excitement or say much to you, just a slight bow to the old lady and she walked in front of you as you said goodbye, only stopping two doors down.

Your apartment was small, two small bedrooms, small kitchen and barely sparsely decorated, but it was clean and tidy, your daughter dropped her school bag, and headed for the bedroom while you moved to the kitchen, never really talking to each other, he found himself flying closer just to get a perfect vision of that child.

She was a mini-you, taken so much from you, whoever the father was it didn’t seem to have mattered in the end for the kid got nothing from him, she changed to her pajamas as you sat on the couch after throwing away your uniform to the floor.

You two talked briefly, you didn’t read her any stories before bed or kissed her good night, you simply stared at each other and talked while you stretched your feet.

The little girl entered her room, a tidy space, books piled up on the floor in sharp stacks against the wall, a desk containing some electronics and a couple stuffed animals.

She was a cute thing, just like you had been once, her hair short and her straight bangs covering most of her face, too long for it too be safe, she had your complexion and jet black hair, she sat on her desk turning the desk lamp and picked her Kindle up, looking at her clock then back at her Kindle, she sat there for a couple minutes digesting some pages until it was almost midnight, before heading to the living room– you’d passed out on the couch, she took your phone and put it to charge fidgeting with something before leaving it, turning the TV off, and finally turning around to slip a quilt on top of her mother.

Homelander almost felt sorry for the kid, after all you had done to him only to neglect your child, you were just as much of a scumbag as he had imagined, he had had enough wanting to fly away until he saw the little girl staring back at him.

The lights were off on the home, and it was dark with the streets below shaded piss yellow, he looked around wondering if there was something nearby that caught your daughter’s attention but she was staring straight at Homelander, she forced the window open peeking her small frame slightly out the window, in the dark starless night while strangers made a ruckus a couple streets from here, a bright twinkling of pale blue illuminated your home.

He got closer, something caught in his throat as he came only a meter away from your daughter.

She looked so much like you but her eyes even as they lost their unnatural light were so blue, as if the entire ocean lived in her eyes.

The curtains slid shut, his chin flicked in surprise as he caught the small figure plainly ignoring him, he was loved by all, especially children! Even those whose favorites were Noir, A-Train or Maeve loved him! Yet this little girl had just shrugged him off and ignored him, simply returning to her bedroom to shut the second set of blinds and jump straight to bed.

Homelander was left dumbfounded, not once had he seen such disinterest and callousness from a member of his safest demographic, so he stood in mid-air pondering about killing both of you briefly, just as the heat from his cheeks cooled down, he stared at the now sleeping brat, wondering about that inhuman blue light that glossed her big round eyes.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | The Interlude | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.3 K Warnings: None Prompt: New Friends, new adventures to come and one Halloween Party to prepare. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 16: Boogie Wonderland

The next day, you charmed your restricted section book cover, just like you had done with the spicy one, making it look like another casual spell book. You then spend most of your classes devouring its content, it was way more than the two pages you’d found on the 5th-year DADA book, although a good deal of them focused solely on how to defeat a werewolf. 

Tips on how to kill werewolves, spells against werewolves, weapons against werewolves, a particular line irked you so much –if you see a werewolf hex to kill, don’t bother incapacitating– that you were about to throw the book on the ground and cast incendio on it. But it wasn’t until about the second half of the book that it finally started to talk about its qualities. Especially with the section titled “How to spot werewolves in your daily life”. Of course, while most of the things in the book were about spotting and hurting them, you were more focused on learning which things you should never do. 

On a small piece of parchment, you started documenting everything that you had learned so far. You’d even use a codeword to refer to Remus, in case your note was misplaced or lost. 

My Knowledge on WW:

Silver burns them (throw away or alter the ring mom gave me once Puppy returns it).

Silver and Dittany could save someone after being lethally bitten by a werewolf, turning them into one regardless. 

Bites are contagious only if the werewolf bites someone in werewolf form, not outside of it (Luna could bite whoever he wants without turning them, as long as they’re in human form, maybe they’d get a bit of a raw meat affection for a couple of days, but nothing more). Why is this relevant to me?

Werewolves do not remember who they are once transformed. They can be very aggressive, and they have killed friends and loved ones in wolf form; they will remember what they did once they’re back in human form. If Luna turns into werewolf form and you’re around, turn the fuck away.

Any bite or scratch obtained from a werewolf, whether in human or animal form, would leave a permanent scar. (Luna probably has a bite mark somewhere. I wonder where?) 

Werewolves rarely have children. If a werewolf has a child with another werewolf while in wolf form, they’d have a normal wolf, except they’d be beautiful and nearly as smart as a human. 

Werewolves don’t really attack animals, they seem to target exclusively Humans. 

There’s little to no medicine developed to help treat werewolves. -> Racist wizards going at it again.

They can be a little aggressive, touchy or moody as the full moon approaches. 

They have a crazy good sense of smell (even in human form apparently; maybe I’ll get to ask Luna about it someday)

THEY AREN’T ALL EVIL. 

You read through your list a couple of times, wondering if you’d missed anything from the book. But you were certain you had narrowed down the most important clues the book had. There was a section of the book that had a couple of spells to defend yourself from werewolves, but they were all incredibly aggressive attack spells, most of them to severely damage or kill the werewolf, when you finished reading you ripped the page from the book, threw it on the floor and whispered “incendio,” contemplating how the fire slowly consumed the old piece of paper. You might have not been able to burn down the entire book, but that was pleasing enough. And you had to get rid of it before anyone read through it and tried to use it on Remus, or any other good werewolves. Because no matter how many times the book tried to frame Werewolves as being inhumane, and immoral beasts, incapable of feeling remorse, you knew it was all bullshit. 

Remus was kind, gentle, and incredibly caring, he’d been the first one to approach you when you were feeling off after divinations, he’d shared chocolate with you when you were injured, he’d held you when a quaffle had been thrown your way, and he’d even taken you to his quiet spot when he thought it might help you feel better. Remus had, even in the short time you’d met him, always been there for you, and you wanted to be at least half as good of a friend as he’d been. Remus was nothing like the harrowing picture the book painted of werewolves. And while you were sure actual evil werewolves existed, you’d heard of them in the news, with wolves like Fenrir Greyback and its followers, you also knew there were evil and good wizards. It wasn’t a matter of what you were, but a matter of who you were. You’d know, your mom had told you about the hard times her mother had had with her being half fairy, the Wizarding Community just wasn’t very accepting of diversity. 

As you walked back from the courtyard where you were reading, book back in your backpack and parchment gently tucked in the book you had in your hands, you accidentally bumped into someone, and whoever you bumped into had been walking with so much force, the books you were holding fell to the ground. The boy –a Ravenclaw you hadn’t met– leaned down and helped you pick your stuff. But the page on your book had slipped and fell a little further from your grasp, he walked towards it before you even had the chance to react, and he eyed it as you gulped. Thank Merlin you’d used codenames.

“You’re into werewolves too?” He asked. 

You frowned, thinking of a quick excuse, say it was an assignment, say it’s homework, a part of you said. On 6th year? about werewolves? who would ever believe it?, responded the other. But there was something about the question that caught your attention then, “What did you say, sorry?” 

The boy turned to you, “Oh- um… I asked if you were also into werewolves…” he said, as he handed the parchment over to you. There it was: also into them. 

“Uh… yeah, I’ve been doing some research.” 

He nodded, and motioned to the paper, still in your hands “Who’s Luna?” 

You were caught off guard again “It’s a… character, from a story.” You said, making it up on the spot “I’m writing it, the story… I’m writing the story.” How on earth did I become such a shitty liar?

“Oh, that’s amazing! I’m actually really interested in them as well.” 

“You are?” 

He nodded “Yeah, I’ve been working with Professor Slughorn to develop a potion.” 

“To make them human again?” You asked with a frown. 

He shook his head “It’s… That’s impossible… But Slughorn and I think It’s possible to create one that will allow them to remember who they are while in wolf form, to reduce the risk of attacking humans.” 

“What really? That’s brilliant! I’d love to help you!” You said, almost a little too excitedly, so you cleared your throat  “I mean, it would be a really good way of getting knowledge for my story…” 

“Really?” He asked, with a smile “You’re (Y/N), right? New transfer student? Gryffindor’s new keeper?” 

You nodded “I’m afraid I don’t know your name…” 

He extended his hand, and you shook it “Damocles Belby, most people just call me Kless, I’m from 7th…” he seemed to think about the next thing before deciding to ask “Are you really as brave as they say?” 

“They say I’m brave?!” You asked, in disbelief. 

He nodded “You stood up against some nasty Slytherins in class, and they say you fly like a daredevil, or so I’ve heard…” 

“Well, I –gossip sure travels fast here– Why?” 

“I’m more of a books and potions kind of person, you see…” he started, moving one of his arms up to the back of his head, to scratch it, it looked like Kless wasn’t too eager to ask for this particular favour  “…but I really want to test out the effect of Moonflower on the potion, see if it helps. The issue is, and you might not know this but Moonflower–“ 

“–only blooms in full moon.” You finished. 

He exhaled, “Yeah, and I’ve been told that there is a chance to find them in the forbidden forest.” 

“You want me to get it for you, don’t you?” 

He nodded, “Only if it wasn’t too much trouble. And if you helped with it, I could finish the first draft of the potion in a couple of weeks and we could probably test it together, and if the position works, I could get a brilliant recommendation letter from Slughorn to study at Cauldronwell, the School of Advanced Potionry. Maybe we could even get one for you.” 

You took a deep breath, considering the situation, the forbidden forest must be forbidden for a reason, and the boys had warned you about it too. Eventually, you spoke again “If I do this, will you let me have some of the potion?” 

He looked at you, as if thinking about it, probably wondering if he should ask why you’d need the potion, but in the end, he only nodded “Deal.” 

You smiled at that, pleased with the answer he’d given you, “Pleasure to meet you Kless, I’ll see you around.” You said before waving at him and resuming your way to the common room since you’d be helping Remus and Sirius finish up the decorations for the party. But just before turning on the corner you turned your head towards him again “I’ll find you when I get it.” 

He nodded, “I’ll send you a copy of my research through owl mail.” He responded. 

Sirius and Remus were already in the common room when you arrived, you smiled and took the book with the parchment, grabbing the piece of paper and hiding it deep within one of the pockets of your backpack. While you were busy, still packing stuff inside your bag, you felt Sirius’s arms wrap around you as he hugged you from behind. He placed a quick kiss on your cheek before pulling away again, grabbing a piece of candy from the bowl next to your bag on the table and popping it into his mouth. “What were you up to?” He asked, noting you were late. 

“Sorry, got really caught up in this book.” You told him with an apologetic smile as if Sirius could actually be angry at you. You then looked around, the boys had already gotten a head start. James, who was supposed to help, was still locked up in his room, adding some final details to his Hamlet costume while Peter was in the kitchens, making sure the treats were ready for the party. 

“Marlene’s gone to get a fog potion,” Remus said, as he grabbed onto a piece of cloth neatly folded on the table, “Beth and Tom went to Hogsmeade to buy some last-minute treats.” 

You paid close attention as he started to unfold the cloth “Is that the banner Lily made?” You asked, walking closer to him, Sirius was looking at you with a smile as you moved towards his friend. 

Remus nodded and said a quick “Yeah.” Handing a corner of the cloth over, so you could help him, the two of you extended the banner together, finally opening it up. The Banner was long and, it was black with orange letters over it, and it had two Jack-o-lanterns on each side that screamed “Happy Halloween” when you looked directly at them. 

“It’s brilliant!” You said with a smile, as you helped Remus levitate it closer to the ceiling near the entrance. Sirius was busy placing the jack-o-lanterns you had carved during the week all over the common room. Once the banner was hung, you walked towards the table and pulled out a bag you’d left there a couple of classes ago. 

“What’s that?” Sirius asked, walking closer to you again, shoulders brushing against yours. You smirked, and took a skull from the inside, throwing it towards Sirius, he easily caught it and looked at it, before turning back to you. 

“You thought it would scar–“ he started, but then, out of nowhere, the skull started laughing maniacally, Sirius jumped and let it fall on the floor.

The skull said “Auch,” while you and Remus started laughing. 

“Did you see his face?” You asked him. 

“Absolutely priceless, wish I’d gotten a picture of it!” Agreed Remus. 

Sirius just looked at you both with a pout as he picked the skull back from the floor and gently placed it on the table. The skull started to laugh again and Remus silenced it with his wand “You planned this, didn’t you?” 

Remus shook his head, and you answered “We just took advantage of the opportunity to test them. Rem and I’ve been working on them for a while.” 

“Them?” He looked at the bag wearily “How many did you make?” 

“About a dozen,” Remus answered casually. You opened the bag again, and you carefully took the skulls out. You then handed them to the boys, who started to place them all over the common room, one near the sofa, one close to the fireplace, some over at the stairs, and in general, just spread out in rather inconvenient places, the kind of places that would have people jumping from their skin when they started screaming at them. Sirius decided it would be a good idea to have one floating over the fruit punch, and he placed it in the bowl before adding the fruit juice. You saw him take a bottle of rum out too, and pour about a quarter of it onto the drink.

You shook your head, a little smile playing on your lips as he did “Why not add a bit more?” you teased. 

“Sirius!” Remus admonished him. “What did we say about adding alcohol to the main beverage? Last year it was chaos!” 

“It was only a little bit,” he retorted, and then turned to you “Barely a trickle, right Statshine?” 

You nodded “Not even a quarter of a bottle.” Remus shook his head, looking at both of you disapprovingly. “Come on Rem,” you said persuasively “let’s leave it like that, you don’t want to throw out such a good punch do you.” 

“She’s right, Moons, come on,” Sirius said, now he was standing next to you, both looking at the taller boy with puppy eyes. 

Remus looked at the two, both so pretty trying to convince him to do something, he almost couldn’t think of anything else. In fact, he wasn’t sure there was anything in the world you’d ask of him that he would deny, not with that expression on your faces. He took a deep breath, trying not to focus on the fact that he had somehow developed a crush not only on his best friend (which he had been pretty aware of already) but on his girlfriend as well, “Just so you know, I still don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

Both you and Sirius smiled broadly, looking at each other and throwing a high-five between yourselves. “You’re the best Rem!” You told with a dashing smile and then you walked back, pulling the bag up. 

“There’s more?” Sirius asked Remus, he shrugged in response, he didn’t know. 

Slowly, you pulled out a whole skeleton from it. “What the hell?!?” Asked Remus surprised, “You didn’t tell me you also had one of those…” 

“I didn’t have it, I found it.” You told him “It was in one of the old classrooms on the 3rd floor.” 

“Is it… real?” Remus asked cautiously. 

“Didn’t ask him,” you responded with a shrug while looking at the skeleton. Remus raised his eyebrows, amused at your answer. 

And a diverted smile appeared on Sirius' lips before he asked. “Did you charm it as well?”

You ginned “‘Course I did! Who do you take me for? I’ve got a whole plan for it.” 

“And where are you going to place it?” Remus asked, from next to you now as he curiously looked at the skeleton. 

You turned your body a little, shifting the weight of the skeleton onto one of your arms, and pointed at a wardrobe in the far side of the room. 

“In the closet?” The taller boy asked in disbelief “You’re going to put the skeleton in the closet?” 

“It’s a joke in and of itself,” you said with a smile “every now and then the skeleton will drop smoke or random sounds, that way guests are inclined to investigate. And then boom, the skeleton in the closet will jump out and scare the shit out of them.” 

“That’s wicked…” Said Sirius, a smirk playing on his lips “See Moony? I told you she was like us!”

“I was certain when you told me about the day of the library,” Remus said simply. 

You looked at Sirius, eyes wide in shock “You told Remus about the library?” 

“Of course I did, your Howler was genius!” Sirius responded matter-of-factly.

“Certainly,” Remus agreed. 

Right, the Howler, he told them about the Howler, not about the snoging. “It was just, a spur-of-the-moment idea?” You said, tugging in a hair behind your ear shyly as you walked towards the wardrobe with the skeleton –Steve– as you’d named him. You knew how seriously the boys took their jokes and escapades, if Sirius and Remus were complimenting you on something, they weren’t just sweet-talking you. You slowly but surely accommodated Steve inside the wardrobe and closed the doors. 

“What are we missing?” Asked Remus as he looked around the common room, trying to get a look at the big picture. 

“Marlene’s still coming with her smoke potions, right? Spooky music? Maybe…”

“Got that taken care of,” Sirius said, and waved his wand, on the corner, a small violin, a flute and what looked like a piano started playing music. 

You were surprised “where did you get those?”  

“Stole them from the music room last year,” Sirius explained “It was a dare to prove to James that Remus was way stealthier than him, even if he’s taller.” 

You nodded, a little impressed, you then heard the portrait open, Beth and Tom walked inside with bags filled with candy; from slug worms to dancing skeletons, all the Halloween theme candies from Honeydukes were there. Tom walked all the way to the table with the punch and emptied his backpack there. Beth, on the other hand, started to neatly arrange the candies she’d gotten into different vases and floating trays, she ended up also taking the stuff Tom had dumped and finished decorating the sweet’s table, as she’d prompted everyone to call it that from then on.

“You guys did a brilliant job,” Tom said as he looked around in awe, there were spider webs coming from the ceiling, shiny black and orange streamers swirling in the air, black flamed candles levitating all over the ceiling, cauldrons filled with candies. The skulls you and Remus had charmed together still lurking on certain spots, a table filled with potions, “for potion pong,”  as Beth had told you, and overall, an eerie but fun atmosphere. You had even told Moaning Myrtle and Richard Jackdaw to come over as special guests, even if you warned them not to tell any other ghosts about the party, especially Peeves, who would definitely attempt to make some kind of prank, or tell the teachers about your shenanigans. Suddenly he tilted his head. “Do hear that?” He asked. 

Beth frowned “Hear what?” 

“It’s uh… coming from…” Tom started walking towards the wardrobe. You threw a look at the boys, Sirius held your stare with his icy grey eyes, the hint of a smirk drawing on his lips. When you turned to Remus, he was also looking at you attentively, eyebrows raised, clearly looking amused. 

As you exchanged glances with the boys Tom approached the wardrobe “None of you hear it?” 

You shook your head, it wasn’t a lie, the spell only worked for one person at a time, so really, not even Beth would hear the same thing Tom did. Tom was now right in front of the closet, and he hesitantly placed his hands on the handle, like he was considering whether he should open it or leave it alone. But Tom was curious, almost too curious for his own good and in a fast pull, he opened the door. 

The skull jumped out and clang onto Tom, eyes glowing a shade of green and screaming so loud even you winced, perhaps I overdid it, you thought. Tom screeched, jumped back and ended up on the floor, fighting to get the skeleton to unwrap its bony arms off his shoulders. When he finally did it, he threw it to the side and crawled away from it while looking at it with dread. He stayed there, panting as Steve finally shut its bony jaw, the screams and shrieks slowly dying out.

Everyone started to laugh, including Beth, who had been just a little scared at the beginning. Still with his eyes open wide, Tom turned back, a slight frown on his face as he turned to Sirius “What the fuck mate?! That was bIoody horrifying, what did I ever do to you?”

Sirius raised his hands and shrugged, “That wasn’t my prank.” 

Tom’s frown deepened and he turned to Remus “It was you?” He asked again, still trying to gain his breath. Remus shook his head as a reply, there was no way it’d been James or Peter, Tom knew they’d be pretty busy today so he slowly turned his head to you, almost unsure “(Y/N)?” 

You took a deep breath, raising your shoulders, lips tightened in a line before, letting a bit of a smile appear. Guilty, you looked guilty. “I see you’ve met Steve.” 

“You gave that horrid thing a name?” You shrugged, nodding your head as an answer. He sighed “Why me?” 

“Oh, that’s on Steve, he chooses the person he calls, not me.” 

“You put a randomizer spell on it?” Remus asked then, surprised. You nodded “How? I’ve been trying to master those for a while…” he said, walking closer to the skeleton. 

“I found it on The Refined Art of Mild Hexes, it’s somewhere on the first couple of pages,” you told him, and then started waking towards Tom and helped him up “Sorry bout that,” you said, giving the curly haired boy a light pat on the back, he just stared at you, squinting his eyes in distrust, he then scoffed, shaking his head as he looked at the skeleton on the ground. 

“Looks bIoody realistic,” he said, the edges of his lips finally curling into a little smile. 

“Yeah, Remus thought the same, and asked me if it was real.”

He turned back to you, a slightly concerned expression on his face “Well… Is it?” 

“She’d got no clue,” Sirius answered for you. 

You nodded in agreement “Found it lying around in an abandoned classroom.” 

 “And you just took it? What it if was a ghost’s or something?” 

You shook your head “I asked Richie Jackdow, and he said it didn’t belong to any of the ghosts in the castle.” 

“You really have gotten accustomed to Hogwarts, haven’t you?” 

You smiled “I guess you could say I have.”

The portrait opened itself again, and Mary and Marlene came inside. Marlene carrying a tray with potions and Mary with some more treats, this time saltier stuff from the kitchen. “I brought the fruit for the punch,” she said as she walked towards the sweet’s table. 

“Great, you guys prepare that, Sly sprite,” he said turning to you “You’re helping me with this,” he said pointing to his canines, he’d asked you to turn them into fangs earlier that week, when the party was being planned, you’d both found a spell that would be useful, and had decided it’d be the one you’d use. 

“I think I left the book in my backpack,” you said as the two of you walked towards a further away table. 

“Sly sprite,” Sirius scoffed, he was standing next to Remus. 

The taller boy raises his eyebrow “You jealous?” he teased. 

“Of Tom?! No way!” 

“Why not?” Remus asked and turned to you and Tom at the table where you’d left your backpack, you had one hand on the book and the other on your wand, Tom was staring at you attentively “Tom’s handsome, maybe just as handsome as you.” 

Sirius frowned, “You’re not helping,” he added flatly. 

Remus knew very damn well you had no interest in Tom, but he was enjoying himself while looking at a jealous Sirius, thinking back of all the times he’d been jealous himself. “I’m just saying… he’s charming, comes from a wealthy family, and his curls are really nice.” 

“Remus!” Sirius whined, turning his back to look at the hazel-eyed boy instead of at you since you already had both of your hands on Tom’s face as you pulled it back to check on his canines.

“Do you know what this is for?” Asked Mary, taking a potion bottle with a golden cap. Remus shrugged.

“Must be the sugar syrup for the punch,” Beth said “I asked Peter to bring it over in the morning.” 

Mary looked at it, swirled the liquid around inside the bottle, and uncapped it. She gave it a whiff and shrugged, it certainly smelled sweet enough. She didn’t think it twice, and dumped the entirety of the contents inside the punch, then grabbed the bottle and placed it on the potions table, since it fit the aesthetic. 

Meanwhile, you and Tom were still working on his fangs, “Stop moving for fucks sake,” you complained, as Tom looked at himself in the hand mirror he took from your bag. 

“But make them longer, yeah luv?” He answered, his voice already had a little lisp from the fangs. 

“They’ve got a great length Tom, you won’t be able to eat!” 

“Food doesn’t matter, aesthetics do!” 

You sighed, “Don’t dare come whine with me if you cannot eat.” 

“I swear I won’t Sly Sprite,” he said while placing his right hand over his heart. It made you wonder: If both Sirius and Tom entered a drama contest, would they tie? Eventually, you nodded and performed the spell again, grabbing the mirror and placing it in front of Tom’s face. He smiled, checking himself out as he slid his tongue under the fangs and winched at how sharp they were. You gave him an “I told you so” look, but he just shook his head. “Aesthetics (Y/N), aesthetics!”  

You just rolled your eyes and started to stand up but he stopped you by grabbing your arm “Hold up! Man liner!”

“Man liner?” You asked with a frown. 

“Yes! Eyeliner for men, like rock stars! Would you mind doing it for me?” He then looked through the pockets and pulled out an eyeliner pencil. 

You shrugged and nodded, taking the pencil from his hand, and leaning closer to Tom’s face, “Don’t move, all right?” He nodded and you started to line his water line. Softly gliding the pencil. When you were about to finish the first eye you felt someone looming behind you. When you turned you realised it was just Sirius, and you gave him a quick smile before going to line Tom’s second eye. 

Sirius was attentively looking at you as you lined Tom’s eye, both curious at the way you did it and also pretty jealous of how close you were to the other boy. Which prompted him to walk even closer. Once you were done you smiled and pulled away from Tom “There you go Mr. Vampire.” 

“Brilliant!” He said, placing both hands on your shoulder “Thank you Sly Sprite!” 

Sirius cleared his throat from behind “Mind if I borrow my girlfriend away for a minute.” 

Tom, being as oblivious and carefree as he was, nodded with a smile “I’m actually going to go change.” 

Once Tom was gone, you turned to Sirius with a quizzical expression “What was that about?” 

Sirius, who had spoken without thinking, was taken aback by your question “I… uh— Can you line my eyes too?” He improvised.

You frowned, “What are you dressing as?” 

He was about to open his mouth, but shut it before he could speak. “What are you going to dress up as?” 

“Oh… that’s right. You haven’t guessed. You get 3 more tries,” you told him playfully, as you placed your hand on his shoulder, guiding him to sit on the same chair Tom had been in.

He sat there and looked up at you, your breath got stuck in your throat, how was it possible for a boy to be this pretty? You leaned in closer, a lot closer than you had been to Tom, which made Sirius feel a lot better already. “Look up at me, All right?” You told him softly. He did, and you swore you felt your legs wobble, but you took a deep breath and while holding his chin with one hand, you gently placed your other hand on his cheek, to stabilise it while you lined his eyes. You were a lot more careful than you’d been with Tom. Softer, taking a lot longer to drag the eye pencil under his lower lashes. You honestly enjoyed being close to Sirius, more than you’d ever dare to admit to his face, especially since it’d go straight to his head, feeding his already pretty big ego.

“Are you gonna be a mermaid?” 

“No, I’m not.” You replied and continued with your task. 

“What about a princess? You certainly fit the look.” 

“Puppy stop moving!” You reprimanded, as a blush threatened to spread on your cheeks, “And no, I’m not going to be a princess, that’s two tries out of three.” He huffed, he really wanted to win the bet “What about you? Are you gonna be a rockstar?” 

“Nope.” He responded, “3 tries for you too.” 

You leaned in a little closer, narrowing your eyes as you tried to be as accurate as possible, “Will you come as a prince? It’s also something that would suit you.” 

He shook his head “I’m letting James take the spotlight with the mediaeval clothes… You think I look like a prince?” He asked, a little smirk playing on his lips. 

You rolled your eyes, “Everyone thinks you look like a prince, Sirius.” 

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you just said you think I look like a prince.” 

You playfully hit his shoulder before going to the other eye. Almost losing yourself in the frosty blue of them before focusing on your task again. Sirius was still looking at you attentively as you continued to paint his waterline. “Aren’t you gonna try and guess again?” 

“I’ve only got one try left.” 

“And you’re not planning to use it?” 

“I am… just– I want to… think it thoroughly.” 

“You know, you could just tell me whatever your wish is.” 

“It wouldn’t be the same thing,” he retorted. “You should also do Remus’ man liner since he’s going to be a pirate.” 

“I’m not sure he’d like it…” you said, a little insecure about it. 

“I think he would, we should tell him,” he said, very sure of himself. “Hey, Remus!” 

“Mmmm?” the mentioned boy asked from the sofa, where he was arranging some more cauldrons filled with treats. 

“Come over! Will ya?” 

Remus turned to the boy, gave him a look like he did not want to move, but stood up and walked up to the two of you. 

“You’re up next,” Sirius informed him.

“For what?” 

“(Y/N) is doing your manliner.” 

“If you want to…” you added. Finally separating from Sirius since you had finished, smiling at how handsome your boyfriend looked. 

“It’s for your costume.” Sirius said, “It won’t be finished without it.” He then stood up and placed Remus right on the chair in front of yours.

Remus just took a deep breath as he stared at his friend, before turning to look at you, expectantly. 

“You sure you’re ok with it?” You asked, with a little frown. There it was again, the concern and care you always seemed to show Remus, the same concern and care that had his heart fluttering from how close you were standing to him. From how close both Sirius and you were to him, in fact. 

He cleared his throat and nodded, and you leaned closer to him, grabbing his face just as carefully as you had grabbed Sirius’. His skin was a lot softer than you’d imagined, you unintentionally brushed your fingers over one of his scars, but Remus didn’t flinch, which surprised him, since he usually detested when people did it. In fact, he remembered a particular time when he was making out with a boy and he snapped at him for touching his face. 

“Look up at me Rem,” you told him softly, he complied, looking at you through his lashes, Sirius was right next to you, Remus could see his satisfied expression from the corner of his eyes. You finally leaned in, and started to glide the pencil over his lower lashes. You somehow ended up focusing on his eyes, how they had these little specks of amber tones in them, they were bigger, and somewhat softer than Sirius’, very doe-like, in fact. “Tell me if it hurts,” you added later. Remus was nothing like Sirius, the latter would make a fuzz if you pricked him on the eye accidentally. Remus, on the other hand, he’d probably endure it without even wincing. He nodded, and you had to quickly pull the eye pencil away from his face. “But don’t move!” you admonished, grabbing his face a little more sternly now. 

“M’sorry,” he mumbled. 

“What do you think (Y/N)’s costume’s gonna be?” Sirius, who was still very close to the two of you, attentively watching the way you lined Remus’ waterline, asked. He seemed pretty content, falling to notice you were standing so much closer to Remus than you had been to Tom.

“You haven’t guessed yet?” Remus asked, a diverted smile playing on his lips “That’s unfortunate for you.” 

“MOONY!” He whined, “I asked you to help me choose, not to make fun of me.” Remus shrugged. “She said she’s not gonna be a princess, or a mermaid, also not an alien, or an astronaut, from what I asked yesterday. Mmmm.. and she also said she wasn’t dressing as a superhero, though I’m sure she’d look great as Wonder Woman.” 

“Who would’ve thought Sirius would be into costumes…” you teased. Remus instantly chuckled, but it took a little longer for Sirius to understand the joke. 

“Hey! I’m not– I– I just want my prize!” 

“Well then guess by yourself, If Remus guesses for you, he gets your prize.” 

Sirius gasped “You wouldn’t.” 

“I so would,” you teased again. Then pulled back from Remus “There we go,” you smiled at your work, slowly letting your fingers glide over his skin as you pulled them away from his face, Remus really did work that man liner out.

“Damn, mate!” Sirius said as Remus stood, looking up at him “You look absolutely dashing, and you don’t even have the rest of your costume on.” 

“He’s right,” you nodded “Remus’ getting bitches tonight.” 

Remus gave you a reproachful look, but nodded, “I think everything’s pretty much handled already.” 

You saw Tom walk down from the stairs in a puffy shirt and a dark green vest. He’d brushed his curls back, only one gently falling on his forehead, he was definitely working that vampire costume. 

You approached him quickly “Tom! It’s brilliant you’re ready. Deal with everything while we go change, yeah?” 

He nodded, and then smiled mischievously. “I’ll go find the potion, I probably left it somewhere when I dropped all the candies on Beth’s Sweets Table.” 

You raised your eyebrows “Just don’t down it all in one go. Save some for the rest of us.” He winked as an answer. “Tom’s taking care of this, we can go change,” You said, turning to Remus and Sirius, who were just a couple steps behind you. 

Sirius approached Tom first, and handed the eyeliner over “Your eyeliner.” He said icily. 

“Thanks for borrowing it,” Remus added politely afterwards, feeling like he wanted to punch Sirius for being such an idiot to Tom. You clearly weren’t interested in the boy, in fact, anyone would tell him how head over heels you were for him, but he had such a thick head he dared to be jealous. Maybe it was from how much hair he had.

Tom, being Tom, just smiled, almost mischievously. “No problem, you both look smashing, by the way…” He then eyed the taller boy up and down “Remus,” he said with a nod, before walking away to the centre of the room.

You frowned slightly at the exchange, remembering Tom’s words: “You’d be surprised, most of them hide it quite well though, you wouldn’t expect it.” Would it be possible that Remus was also-

You felt a hand press to the small of your back, “let’s go, love,” Sirius said, as he pushed you up the stairs.

“Uh.. yeah sure,” you said, allowing Sirius to guide you, turning your head back towards the front. 

 “Are you gonna be a lady knight?” He asked as you walked up the spiral staircase, Remus trailing behind just a little.

You shook your head “But that would’ve been a brilliant idea!” 

“Well, you’d certainly look great in silver armour,” He replied with a little smirk. You playfully shoved him off as you rolled your eyes. 

“Will you be… a prisoner from Azkaban?” 

“I would look great in those white and blue stripes, wouldn’t I?” He teased confidently “But no… I’m not gonna be that!” 

You sighed “We both lose then. What was your wish?” 

“I’ll tell you later,” he said with a wink. Eventually, you parted ways, waving a hand as the boys walked toward their rooms while you walked to yours.  

Series Masterlist | The Interlude | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @mablacklupin @oliversaurus

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[ravenelyx]

I Love You In Every Timeline - Sebastian Sallow

I Do Not Have Any Thought That Is Not Yours

[Fic masterlist]

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance for the reader

Themes: angst, temporarily unrequited love, pining, some form of transference¹, developing relationship, slow burn, explicit (eventually)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe." In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: another chapter

AO3 / Wattpad

-

Tracey Nettlebed was boring holes into Sebastian’s skull, and he was sure it wouldn’t be long until they were deep enough for his brain to start leaking out. And, to be honest, he didn’t totally hate the idea.

It would ensure he'd stop him from thinking altogether.

In short, he did forget the prize. He had remembered that the same night, when he’d met Tracey's incensed gaze in the Common Room.

“I asked him, but he didn't have any,” he’d lied through his teeth when she’d approached, and Tracey had only narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine,” she’d conceded brusquely. “But you better have them by tomorrow.”

She had stormed off towards the girls’ dormitories then, not leaving Sebastian any space for compromise. Not that she'd accept it, he suspected.

In his defence, he’d had other things on his mind. The picture of her had followed him in his dreams; a meandering torture of longing and sadness that only reconciled at his wake, and even more had vexed him the resemblance, like the picture had taken form in front of him. He’d dreamt of you, then, standing from your chair in the Library, and hugging him; he’d felt your heart beating against his, your arms tightly wrapped around his neck, he hadn’t even been sure if it was you, at that point. He’d wanted it to stop, yet never let that person in his arms go. He’d realised, at the same time, that you were shorter than her.

The fact that you weren't at breakfast, and the fact that you had taken the book with her picture with you were, instead, what haunted him now. You weren't in his arms and neither was she. And she was nowhere to be found.

Not that he blamed you for storming off and stealing her right from his nose, she was your family after all, but he would be lying if he hadn't thought about keeping that picture to himself. After all it was, in a twisted way, the only memory he had of his past life, of his past love, aside from you — but you had that birthmark, and that crease, and those eyes, and the red and gold reflecting on your skin tone.

Sebastian had tried to find another copy of that book, another copy of her that wasn't in flesh and bones, as much as the thought made his stomach knot in guilt at the disrespect it showed towards you, but no matter where he searched, there was nothing in any of them about the Goblin Rebellion of the 1890s. The copy you were reading was obviously a one-off.

Sebastian's luck as always, ladies and gentleman.

He had half a mind to ask you where you had got it, but the discovery seemed to affect you more than it did him. And that was saying something.

Sebastian attempted at allotting all his anger and annoyance and sympathy around that thought, like putting marmalade in jars in his brain. You deserved to have it more, as much as it hurt him.

And it did hurt him. A lot.

Keep reading

[sufferu]

Hey never read re zero I don't plan to for some time but I've seen a lot anime and light novel spoilers but why do you think Subaru has more chemistry with Julius than Emilia and rem

Okay first of all, obligatory shilling time: Re:Zero is amazing and I love it and you should absolutely give it a chance when you’ve got some time. Please.

And uh. I’m admittedly not sure how to put this for someone who’s never watched/read Re:Zero, but I’ll try!

At this point in the story, Subaru and Emilia are…very much a slow burn couple, and it’s mainly just Subaru having a huge ass crush on Emilia while Emilia tries to figure out what Subaru means to her. And it’s sweet and wholesome, but currently it’s reached a point where Subaru is doing all the work on a number of different levels — not just regarding his romantic feelings towards Emilia — to the point where it feels rather unbalanced sometimes. I’m holding onto hope that this is intentional and going to be the focus of some development for Emilia sometime soon, but it is what it is for now. But beyond that, it’s really just a matter of Subaru liking Emilia and Emilia wondering if she should return his feelings, and that’s FINE, but it’s not hugely compelling to me. (Also frankly I’m of the opinion that Emilia deciding that her feelings towards Subaru are actually platonic and that she values him more as a platonic soulmate than a romantic partner could genuinely be S Tier storytelling, so.)

Subaru and Rem, meanwhile… Okay, so, I kinda oversimplified things a bit, because those two DO have chemistry. Quite a bit, actually. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that they have one of the most layered, complex relationships in the entire series. But the thing is, it also happens to be INSANELY toxic, with both of them enabling the other person’s worst behaviors and basically leaning on the other in this incredibly interesting codependency that literally only gets shaken by one of them getting erased from existence. (Also Rem is unique in that she is the sole character who is not Subaru who has been directly responsible for an IF Route: one of the possible Bad Ends that the series can go down if the wrong choice is made at a pivotal moment. In almost all of them, Subaru is the one making that choice — except for Sloth:IF, in which the choice is between whether Rem agrees to run away to Kararagi with him or refuses and coaxes him back to his feet during his mental breakdown, thus losing her chance to have him all to herself.) it’s a really complicated dynamic that’s difficult to summarize in one paragraph (I didn’t even bring up how Rem literally tortured him for several hours in a previous loop, to the point where he references still having nightmares about it a full year after the fact) but I hope I’ve given SOME idea for how fascinating it is. Regardless of how interesting it is though, it’s not exactly Final Couple material: everything is pointing to the two of them learning to stand apart from one another on their own two feet.

Julius, meanwhile — there’s a lot here, really, and most of it is pretty woven into the story (which you have not read) but I’ll try and give a couple reasons lol.

First of all, Julius is unique in that he is the only character to actually remember doing something traumatizing to Subaru. He’s not unique in traumatizing Subaru — this man has been murdered, tortured, beaten to a pulp, humiliated, and so much else by like half the cast at this point — but Subaru normally dies and resets to sometime before that happens, and so Julius is the only one who actually did something that Subaru was hurt by and remembers doing it. This, ironically, gives the two of them a foundation for their dynamic that is arguably healthier than the ones Subaru has with most of his friends — especially because Julius has proven time and again that he is a safe person for Subaru to be angry with, because he’s actually been really understanding and tolerant about Subaru lashing out at him over it sometimes without being the kind of overly-apologetic that would guilt Subaru into being quiet. As such, Julius is the One Person who has done something horrible to Subaru that Subaru has allowed himself to feel angry and resentful towards, which is noteworthy because a lot of other traumas have been explicitly recolored as “good memories” as one of his coping mechanisms.

Beyond that: Subaru references his attraction to Julius so many times it’s practically a running gag. He waxes poetic about his long legs, graceful eyelashes, vexing voice, supple hips, and the “strange sensation” that his image inspires within him. I’d say I’m reading into it but I genuinely don’t think I am, because it happens SO MUCH, and (with a couple exceptions, like the guy he went on a two page “there’s another reason I’m on my knees right now” rant for) it’s ALWAYS JULIUS. Hell, even other characters like Emilia reference it sometimes, with Subaru responding by saying that they’re definitely not friends, but “something infinitely more annoying.”

And like — they’re just fun? Their dynamic is fun. They’ve got this playful banter going on every time they meet, they obviously respect each other on a serious level beneath that layer of mutual sass, Julius has this sense of being able to be his real self around Subaru in a way that he doesn’t feel he can with anyone else while Subaru has that aforementioned foundation of “I can finally actually be angry about something that traumatized me for once,” and it’s just — shockingly equal and healthy and wholesome. It’s nice. (I fully expect these two to have some plausibly deniable “very close” relationship by the end of the story that could be read in a number of different ways lol)

[mayasaurusss]

Day three: "You have a leaf in your hair".

The last sun rays of the day shine on your skin as you wait for her, standing at the entrance of the local coffee shop. Lottie had texted for you to wait for her there and that she'd come around four pm; half an hour had already passed.

You met Lottie some months ago, during spring. It was a slow and tiring day at the coffee shop you worked in, already having dealt with several angry customers and a cheap boss. When she came in, you thought nothing of her. You faked your politeness as usual and gave her her order. But then you noticed how she kept coming in, and her face started to burn in your mind.

Little by little, she started to grow on you. She'd come daily, always asking for the same order, always sitting on the same spot, at the same hour. You'd lie if you said you didn't develop a small crush for her, which only deepened when you noticed her staring at you. Maybe your feelings were reciprocated?

Lottie was the first one to make a move. She came one summer morning and, with the most red face you've ever seen, asked for your number. "S-so I was thinkin'... You are really cute. Can- can I get your number?" the poor girl was sweating and blushing so hard you thought she was gonna pass out from the heat.

This is your fourth date with Lottie. "Hey! Sorry I'm late!" you are awoken from your thoughts when you hear her voice, looking to see her panting slightly. "I- I lost track of the time" she says, wiping away sweat from her brow. "You didn't have to run. I'll always wait for you" she blushes slightly at your words, pressing a hand where her heart is. "Oh-! That's sweet of you to say" she looks between you and your hand, multiple times, thinking something, before deciding to stand awkwardly in front of you.

"Sooo... wanna go?" you smile, trying to ease up the tension, before taking her hand and leading her through the busy streets. She's blushing like crazy, trying to hide it between the creases of her scarf.

The busy street sounds fade slowly, getting replaced by calm stillness and chatter. Cobble stone is replaced by earth, unraveling through green grass. You've decided to hang out in a park for your date: you have brought tea in a flask, snacks and your wonderful personality.

The bench you sit on is damp from humidity, slightly wetting your clothes when you sit on it. You reach in your bag to take out some sweet snacks and offer them to Lottie. "So, how has your day been?" she asks you, munching on the cookie. "It was alright. There was one rude customer, but that's it. Thankfully my boss let me out one hour before usual. "You take two small paper cups you brought beforehand and give one to Lottie. The dark liquid fills the cups, releasing a trail of steam in the air. You drink from the cup, feel it travel down your throat, warming your body from the inside. "What about you?" Lottie feels a chill run down her spine; she doesn't want to tell you yet about what had happened to her years ago, she is not ready yet. When you had your first date, all she mentioned was that she had gone through intense therapy after an accident which happened years prior. She said that she was living off of her parents money, that she was about to inaugurate her first project: a wellness center. She never mentioned the yellowjackets, the crash, or what she had to do. But, as far as it goes, she didn't tell a lie, did she?

After a decade, in her late 20's, Lottie still can't forgive herself for what she has done. During those days, after eating Jackie and Javi, she told herself that it was all she could do. That she wasn't at fault. But when the hunger fades and all that remains is regret, does that statement still mean anything?

It takes her a moment to come back, and when she does she blushes, having been caught deep inside her thoughts. "I- uh, yeah. I have already set everything up. The wellness center is ready to be opened to the public. I just need to promote it somehow" she fiddles with her fingers, pulling on her skin. "That's good! I hope I can come by and visit you sometimes!" she wouldn't dare to say to you that she wished you'd live there with her. It's far too early, and she doesn't even know what feelings she has for you yet. She smiles and looks at her reflection in the tea "You can come by anytime. Whenever you want to, just tell me. I'll book a cab for you". "That is no issue, really. I can pay my own things" you remember how, on the first date, she insisted on paying for dinner for the both of you. She was sweet of course, but you didn't want her to waste her money on you.

"I insist. I would love to" she shakes her cup, watching the tea almost spill over the edge. "Besides, my parents are ri-" a loud rumble echoes from the sky, enough to cut Lottie off. You look up to see clouds of many shades of gray running fast above you, carried by the wind. A single drop of rain lands on your face, running down on your skin. "I hope it won't rain" you mumble worried. Just a moment later, rain starts to fall down on you, cold and sharp. "Fuck!" near you, Lottie is hurriedly collecting her and your things before the rain can ruin them. "Come here!" she takes your hand in hers and tugs you along with her, to search for shelter from the rain. You watch Lottie and for a split second, your heartbeats are louder than the rain. She manages to catch the sight of a bus stop, across the street that runs along the park. Her recklessness almost gets you both killed, as cars drive down the street and she just runs through them. At last, you're both safe from the rain now. Pools of water fill the gaps in between the concrete, wetting you even more than the rain could. You are so bitter that the rain has ruined your date, and worried, too. You were the one who suggested to Lottie to go to the park for your date: if you picked literally anywhere else, the date would have gone smoothly and your clothes wouldn't be ruined. "Lottie, I-" instead Lottie laughs. She seems so...happy.

"Lottie...?" she runs a hand through her hair, slicking them back, and giggles while doing so. "Sorry, sorry! I didn't think it would rain! I got caught off guard" she searches for something in her bag, "I didn't even bring an umbrella".

You are left a bit confused by that sudden outburst of emotions from her. "Uh...why were you laughing?" you ask. Her smile falters for a moment. She looks at her fingers, eyes distant, as if in a moment she was carried somewhere far from here. "I- I don't know. I guess I just had fun for a moment. Besides..." she turns to look at you, smiling, dark eyes reflecting yours, "...I like the rain".

You don't answer her back, too memersized in how beautiful she looks. Lottie's eyes move to look at something on your head. "Oh, hold on, You have a leaf in your hair" she gets closer to you, so close that you're almost pressed against her. Her fingers brush on your hair and you see her throw away a small green leaf. "There. All gone" right as she was about to take a step behind, you crane your neck to look her in the eyes. Time stays still. You are hypnotized by the beauty of her eyes, so dark you can see yourself in them, and she steals glances of your lips. Lottie realizes that she has stepped into a territory she's not so familiar with.

"I- I am sorry" she looks anywhere but at you, "I, I didn't mean to..." fingers scraping at each other, pinching on the skin. Her rambles are cut short when she feels your lips pressed into hers. She forgets how to breathe, how to close her eyes, how to control her heartbeats without going crazy. Then you place your hand on her forearm, squeezing lightly on it. She allows herself to relax under your touches, her hands hold on your waist, trembling with emotion. Her lips move against your, reciprocating the kiss; your lips so warm against the freezing rain.

When the kiss stops, it feels like coming back for air after diving deep into water. "Oh...fuck" she exhales a sigh, "that was so good". Your laugh is almost music in her ears "So, when's the next date?".

[hungergameshyperfixation]

I would say I’ve seen a lot of Everlark “learning how to love each other” stuff post-war. About how they’d have to go through the process of building intimacy again (not romantic/sexual intimacy, just being close in general)

And I know it’s been said before but imagine Haymitch learning “how to love” after the war. Regardless of who you ship him with, if you ship him with anyone at all, it would still be a process.

Of course everyone can have their own headcanons and aus, but just to put it out there….some things to think about….

Haymitch trying to put himself together, shower and dress a little bit nicer than normal. Maybe he pulls out some old suit from the Capitol, or maybe not…maybe he just chooses the only shirt and half-decent pants without stains.

Maybe he has some Capitol cologne, or maybe he has nothing. I imagine that in some AU, a much softer post-war Haymitch is using some of the natural herbs in district 12 to help freshen up his house. The smell of whiskey quieted by the smell of lavender (to help him sleep, possibly at the recommendation of Peeta or an Everdeen).

Haymitch being the slowest of slow burn characters. Years-long process to fully develop a relationship with the man 🙄 (/hj)

I like to think he’s pretty quiet, throughout the rest of his life. Maybe he can be pretty talkative in some situations, maybe if there’s a certain subject that gets him talking or a certain person he’s around.

But let’s just say he typically tries to keep his mouth shut (for a variety of possible reasons) and maybe ‘his person’ compliments that well.

If, for example, Effie is incredibly talkative, there’s one clear way they can contrast/compliment each other. He doesn’t mind listening to her talk on and on, and can engage in conversation with her in a comfortable enough way for him.

Or maybe he’s with someone who is pretty quiet. Maybe less talkative than he is. Someone who’s like him, who understands what the silence holds. And it holds so much. But maybe, one day, that silence will be peaceful and not a representation of numbed pain.

Anyway anyway.

Also wanted to throw out the idea of board games to pass the time in district 12, eating quiet meals, eventually watching over Everlark’s children. Uncomfortable conversations scattered throughout, watching the sunset. Anyway more post-war Haymitch Abernathy fanfics. Where he’s not fully broken but not living his best life. Slow-burn post-mockingjay Haymitch Abernathy fanfics when.

[caged-canaria]

Soragumi's National Tour: Great Pirates/Heat On Beat Review, or How Soragumi Gave Me My Groove Back And How I Got There

TW: mentions of the incident (implied)

I miss my old life.

What a way to begin a review about a silly Takarazuka performance right?

I miss when I was 19 and a baby fan and... quite simply a baby with all my dreams yet to be realized. When I discovered Takarazuka, my dream was to move to Japan. After a lot of waiting and wishing and hoping, that dream came true.

As I welcomed my second year living in Japan, I started to contemplate where I'd be going from here. I started to look back on where I had come from, and I started to miss my wide-eyed self.

I missed coming home in 2017 and watching Tsukigumi on repeat while trying to ignore exams just lurking around the corner.

Personally, Zuka had not been "fun" in the past year. For... obvious reasons, and also because it just started to feel distant to me. I didn't feel connected to Tsukigumi as I had been before, even though my oshi, Kazama Yuno, was there so I watched them a number of times. And Soragumi... well...

My home troupe had been Tsukigumi for a good chunk of my early Takarazuka fan life, then when I moved, my first live show was High&Low/Capricciosa. It changed my life seeing Takarazuka in the flesh. As soon as I saw Makaze Suzuho, the tears started flowing and when I saw *Kiki*... Oh...

(And then Zun beamed into my opera glasses during Capricciosa and my heart was hers from then on)

All that to say, Soragumi turned into my favorite troupe.

Then the latter half of 2023 happened.

I wasn't able to see Le Grand Escalier because I had qualms about seeing Soragumi after what had happened. I was full of complex feelings, as was... Is... everyone, probably.

But seeing them again... oh, the complete and utter joy it brought me.

As soon as the curtains lifted to reveal Serika Toa I started weeping. Seeing her again felt like the a nostalgic wave crash into me. I felt a piece of my "old life" had come back to me. I couldn't stop weeping but my glasses were starting to fog up so I told myself to hold it together.

It was nice to see Soragumi again.

I had not seen any previous production of Great Pirates before, so I was coming in blind. My expectations were very low, but thanks to that, I had a great time!

The story wasn't stellar. It felt much longer than 95 minutes. There were many scenes that felt like padding to me that while showed off the kakyuusei, didn't do much to further the plot or develop the characters.

The main character, Emilio felt very flat to me. He had this whole revenge story which in theory should be compelling but... it wasn't. Serika Toa did a great job at trying to give this character layers but there's only so much she can do when the character has 2 layers at most. She's so tall and commanding.

Sakura didn't have much to do in this one, but I couldn't complain because most of her few scenes had her singing and I can listen to Sakura sing for years and years. She is, in my humble opinion, the best musumeyaku vocalist in Zuka right now. She looked like a doll in her blonde wig and her big, beautiful gowns. She brought determination to Elaine and her love duet with Serika Toa was so lush and breathtaking. Those two have the most beautiful voices together.

Zun was great as Kidd, giving him a sense of maturity despite his aggressive nature. I felt like he and Kiki had good chemistry together which made me feel like the true romance in this show was between Kidd and Emilio. They even had a little slow burn, tsundere friendship going on which I very much enjoyed.

The dark horse in this show for me was Sendou Naru, who was one of sexy villain Moeko's sexy henchmen. She was Hamming it up and she looked like she enjoyed every second of the role. I hope we get more roles like this for Naru in the future!

There was also Mashiro Yuuki, who played comic relief. She's always very funny so it was fun training my opera glasses towards her to see what kind of mischief her character was up to. (When I saw it, Sakura accidentally dropped her hair ribbon during the romantic duet and I wondered who was gonna pick it up and then Mashiro adlibbed picking it up and played with it too! It was great. She's very clever!)

The songs were good, classic Takarazuka fare. But *Soragumi* sounded so beautiful together, the choral parts were sublime. My enjoyment of each song number was doubled because of how well Soragumi delivered them.

The climax was my favorite part of the show right up until the ending. I had no idea that would be the ending because I had never seen Great Pirates before and wow did I feel so unsatisfied.

All in all, Great Pirates was not great but there were many parts of it that were enjoyable. It also gave birth to a new ship so that's always a plus in my book!

Now, for the main event, Heat On Beat. This is Kikigumi's only proper revue. And wow, did they make the most of it.

Heat On Beat had always been Tsukigumi, performed by Sena Jun, Kiriya Hiromu and Ryuu Masaki. Like Great Pirates, I had not seen any production of HOB before (shamefully. Or maybe I have, but I had forgotten) so I came in not knowing a lot about it. I was expecting a lot of dancing and a lot of Heat and boy, did they give me that!

When Kiki first turned to face the audience, she was met with cheers. And I felt the vibe shift. I was having *fun*. Of course it goes without saying that Takarazuka is always fun for me but that was the first time I felt laid back. This was fun, I thought.

Heat on Beat was a delight from start to finish. There were no lulls and even the ballad parts never slowed the show down. In fact, I wanted it to be longer! I wanted it to go on forever. It was a revue full of Latin and jazz numbers.

Sakura was dazzling in every scene she was in. Like... wow what a gorgeous girl and what a gorgeous presence. Her voice soared all throughout the theatre and I felt so lucky to be able to hear it. There was one scene wherein she used her lower register and Wow did the hairs on my arm stand so quickly. My favorite scene of hers was definitely the punk girl scene, her smile is captivating. Please watch her!

Zun was also great and her chemistry with Sakura is impeccable. I think they would make a great top combi. (Fingers crossed!)

Soragumi did a great job as well. I can't go without mentioning my new child Sendou Naru, of course, but everyone did well! Moeko and Kotty all gave great performances! (But they were always in the same scene as Naru so my opera glasses were trained on her, haha.)

Serika Toa's legs are loooooong. And they sure do make use of those long legs in this show. There's a lot of leg choreography and the tango is the best dance to show off Kiki's legs. Anyway, enough about her legs.

Kiki is a top star.

I was fully intent on locking in on Zun during the kuroenbi but then there was something so commanding about it that made me just put my opera glasses down and watch the entire thing. The formations were beautiful, the choreography very cool. I heard people weeping as it went on. Please don't miss this kuroenbi. This would be Kiki's last proper kuroenbi after all, so the girls truly gave it their all. (And in the theatre I watched it in, the girls' steps were very audible so it made it feel even more impactful)

Heat on Beat was a treat. It brought me so, so much joy. I felt more pieces of my old life coming back and I asked myself why.

Why, of all times, did I feel so joyous?

Then it was when I realized that Heat on Beat was from Tsukigumi and Soragumi had made it their own. Two pieces of my past coming back as something new... it felt full circle.

I am glad I saw Soragumi. I am glad I saw Great Pirates and Heat on Beat. It gave me the hope to keep going and reignited my love for Takarazuka. Thank you, Soragumi.

The dream continues...!

Side story: I was staying in a hostel in a women's only dormitory room and the staff asked me if I was there to travel and I was like "I'm seeing Takarazuka!" and he was like "A lot of guests have come to see Takarazuka today!" and then lo and behold all the ladies in my dormitory room were Takarazuka fans and we all gushed about our faves and Soragumi and we all became fast acquaintances!

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

hey! a weird question😭 do you have any recs where katniss cheats on or gale is being forced to watch a very loving everlark? thanks

Hello Anon!

Below is a list of Cheating!Katniss on Gale. Hopefully some of these are new to you! Happy Reading!

1400 Degrees-passionately_curious (tumblr) Summary: Her life was boring. Her marriage, unhappy. Her sex life, non-existent. A visit to his office makes Katniss burn blue for someone who is decidedly not her husband.  A Slow Burning Fire-books-are-better (ff) Summary: Modern Day AU. Katniss Everdeen and her longtime boyfriend Gale move to a new city, and room with Peeta and Finnick, two half-brothers from Gale's childhood. But Katniss's and Gale's relationship begins to crumble when the kindness and passion of the beautiful boy with blue eyes shows her that her life is missing something. And it's him. Begin Again-Michelleleahhh (ao3) Summary: The problem is that he’s married. No matter how much Katniss wants him or needs him, he’s forever forbidden. Forever out of her reach. And even if Peeta wants her like she wants him, they’re vowed to other people. Even-annieoakley1 (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen tries to navigate the rough waters of long-distance with her boyfriend while juggling her time with a surprising new friend. But when Gale makes a decision that jeopardizes their relationship, Katniss realizes that she can settle the score. And she picks Peeta Mellark to help her get even.  Hero of the Story-atetheredmind (ao3) Summary: By the end of the summer, Peeta Mellark had married the shoemaker's daughter. And by the end of the summer, Katniss had wed Gale in a small toasting ceremony. AU where Prim and Peeta are never reaped, and where there is no mockingjay, no rebellion.

Portrait of Mrs. Hawthorne-thesweetnessofspring (ao3) Summary: Katniss has always done her duty. When her father died, she married to secure her family's well-being. As a wife, she does everything expected of her, whether she enjoys it or not. Then her husband, Captain Gale Hawthorne, commissions renowned artist Peeta Mellark to paint his new bride. As Katniss and Mr. Mellark spend hours together during their portrait sessions and after, feelings develop between them she has never experienced with anyone else before and the need for him to take her grows too strong to resist.

Something Old, Something New-DrMellark (ff) Summary: Katniss Everdeen has reluctantly accepted her long-time boyfriend Gale Hawthorne's marriage proposal. But, after a night out "celebrating" with her friends, she wakes up in the bed of a handsome blue-eyed blonde who isn't her fiance. Swing-atetheredmind (ao3) Summary: The underground swingers population of Panem County is a mystery to Katniss, one she's about to become intimately more familiar with than she ever imagined. Everlark. Tangled Up In Blue–sunfishdunes (ao3) Summary: Two people find and lose each other repeatedly over the course of five years. Tell Me-JennaGill (ao3) Summary: Katniss is greedy. Peeta is envious. Everlark lust. The Affair-muttpeeta (tumblr) Intro: Katniss has just dropped her bag on her desk when Peeta appears, two coffee mugs in hand. “Good morning,” he greets with an easy smile. “Two sugars, just like you like it.” Even as she rolls her eyes, she can’t help the smile that slips into place as she takes the proffered mug. “If you suck up any harder, you’re going to collapse a lung, Mellark,” she teases, sipping the hot liquid before she sets it down beside her keyboard. Where Did You Sleep Last Night?-LolaBleu (ao3) Summary: Blindsided, that’s how Katniss feels when she goes out for her morning coffee and runs into Peeta. It’s been two years since she talked to him, longer since she’s seen him, but there he is, standing in front of her in the sidewalk, smiling like their love story had a happy ending. Sometimes - lots of times - she wishes it did.

Here's a fic I know of where Gale is forced to see a loving Everlark Family too!

I Can See you Standin', Honey, With His Arms Around your Body-HuntersWithCellPhones (ao3) Summary: Spoilers for Mockingjay Gale comes back to twelve years after the war, expecting to find a Katniss he could possibly fall in love with. Marry. At the very least, they could be friends again. But, instead, he finds Katniss married to Peeta with a little boy named Rye. Drama ensues. The Baker & The Hunter-katnissdoesnotfollowback (ao3) Summary: Gale returns to District Twelve several years after the fall of the Capitol to discover that a lot has changed, and a lot hasn't. There's a baker…and a hunter in this story. And a toasting.

If anyone knows of a fic like these suggestions, please reblog, reply, or send an ask with fics fitting this idea and I’ll add it to future masterlists!

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to shoot me an ask!

Update 9/16/24 @3:45pm

Thank you for the suggestions @thesweetnessofspring and @toastbaby

[nanistar]

one of the reasons that i like jaybriar so much is because i’m a sucker for long, slow burn relationships that develop naturally over time, and warriors doesn’t have very many of those. they start out as patient/doctor, then they become friends, then they become close friends and after that it feels natural for them to share a nest and curl up together. firestar and sandstorm develop naturally over 6 books, which is about a year and a half and you grow with them. they were rivals, then friends and then mates. it feels natural. bristlefrost and rootspring weren’t even friends.

briarlight gets injured just before she turns one year old, and then she dies at about 5 and a half, and jayfeather is about 6. that’s 4.5 years of living with jayfeather in the medicine den. they have spent a majority of their life together, and were together through major tragedies like hollyleaf’s real death and the great battle. she starts out as his patient, before a verdict is reached and she’s told she can’t be a “full warrior” (not getting into that now.)  after she gets well enough to start moving around again, he helps her with her exercises and stretches (as is his job) and keeps her spirits up and reminds her that she’s a valuable member of the Clan even if she can’t do typical warrior activities and he helps her come up with jobs to do, and then she is referred to as “jayfeather’s assistant” several times in the actual text (this progression from patient to assistant happens over about 2 books iirc). she very much does not put up with his grumpy bullshit, she’s shown talking back at him and they have a lot of back-and-forth banter. they’re shown to have a very close bond at this point, sharing a first Close moment when he comes back from the tunnels soaking wet and he lays beside her as she grooms him dry, and he falls asleep like that. he refuses to take her as his apprentice because he doesn’t want her to feel forced into the job like he was, or cinderpelt before him, but he teaches her a lot and she is shown sorting herbs, preparing herbs for him, and helping out with small remedies which helps her stay positive and gain confidence and feel “useful”, and he trusts her to do so (especially compared to how much he micromanaged and didn’t trust alderpaw at first). and she comforts him after the gathering where he is accused of killing flametail, taking care of him and again grooming him to sleep, and then fetching food for him in the morning. he encourages her and helps her work on her goal of climbing a tree with just her front legs. she’s the first person he thinks of when rocks start falling into the quarry, throwing himself over her to protect her. he blames himself for her death, and he chokes up to the point where he can’t continue speaking and alderheart has to take over when trying to speak at her vigil.

the two have two major gestures; jayfeather massages briarlight’s back and hind quarters, which yeah, is a medicinal thing, but it’s also an intimate gesture. cats kneed as a comfort thing. idk it’s the close skin-to-skin (fur-to-fur?) contact. it’s different when millie or alderpaw do it. it would be different if they were humans. and then the other gesture, is briarlight grooming him to sleep. he allows himself to relax only for her, and is comforted by her. not an easy feat for emotionally constipated jayfeather. i never see these two actually talking about being mates or talking about their relationship at all, and they would absolutely deny it if anyone ever asked them. but they have a very deep bond, are unequivocally and undeniably in love with each other. it just sorta... happened. it makes sense for them. their physical and emotional closeness feels natural to them because it just is.

(additionally, i’m not making this post to defend them or convince anyone! just to think out loud about them, essentially. i saw a few folks tag my most recent jaybriar post as qpp and honestly if you see them more that way, that’s awesome. if you don’t sip them at all, hell yeah. peace and love on planet warrior cats)