#but really he could do some fortune telling for them like that except for one of you joke
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hii could you write something about when tommy and buck meet at madney's wedding, but this time tommy comes as chim's friend instead of buck's date. maybe it’s a year after the breakup since maddie wanted to wait to have the wedding until after she gave birth. maybe in this scenario buck and tommy are on good terms (or not? for more angst? it's up to you) and one of them asks the other to dance? honestly, I just want to see them dance😭 thank you! 💖
I tweaked the prompt slightly because there's a special party for the first birthdays of a Korean baby, and I thought it'd be sweet to celebrate that culture
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Doljanchi
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The music is cheerful and everyone is in high spirits. Buck is moving around the party, taking the opportunity to top up the trays of pastries and snacks while baby Joon-ki is propped on his little 'throne', dressed in an adorable green hanbok, after he finally woke up from his afternoon nap.
Everyone is waiting to take photos with him, and so no one is really looking at the door. Buck is counting the number of eclairs and thinking if he will need to run out for something when he hears someone clearing their throat softly.
"Buck."
Buck stands and turns around, heart involuntarily skipping a beat. He knows Tommy has been invited - Chimney told him - but seeing his ex in the flesh is still startling. Tommy's in a navy blue sports jacket and a pale gray polo over those jeans that hug his thighs.
"Tommy," Buck says, smiling politely. They've bumped into each other a handful of times since the breakup, and each time it was awkward, but they have not really had the opportunity to talk to each other, except for brief hellos and goodbyes.
Buck has found time to 'explore his options' since then. Men and women. Dated two other guys, never for more than four months. And he took the time to really think about which part of the rainbow he belonged to - he hadn't done that while he was with Tommy, because he thought it didn't matter, he had his boyfriend and that was enough for him - but then he went on a learning binge after.
He still thinks Tommy's statement about protecting his own heart is bullshit.
Tommy hands him a wrapped box. "For, uh, for the baby."
Buck takes it and tucks it under his arm. "Thanks. Help yourself to the food. I'll, uh, I'll get you a drink."
"Okay. Thanks."
It's so stilted and tense between them. Buck hates it. Fleeing to the kitchen, he digs out a bottle of the beer Tommy prefers. (He knows Tommy is going to be here. He's helping Maddie and Chim be good hosts. That's all.)
When he gets back to the living room where Joon-ki is holding court, surrounded by two sets of doting grandparents, he can't find Tommy. Part of him thinks that Tommy's gone again, too much of a coward to stay and pretend they can be friends.
And the other part of him wishes he can let it go already.
Then he spies Tommy kneeling on the floor in the corner where Jee Yun is, her little face pink and her lips pouting. Tommy has another wrapped box and he's giving it to her with a flourish, and she beams at him and hugs him around the neck.
She liked him, Buck remembers.
After the girl runs back to the table where her little brother is perched, Buck goes to Tommy and offers him a hand to stand up. Tommy glances at him, startled, and takes the assistance.
"Here," Buck passes him the beer. He checks his watch. "They're gonna do the doljabi in about five minutes."
"The what-bee?"
"Doljabi. It's some fortune-telling game. Supposed to tell what the baby's gonna be when he grows up."
Tommy stays for the game, stays to shake Maddie's hand and to give Chimney a hug, to take photos with Jee-yun and Joon-ki.
He stays late enough for dinner - the Lees supplied them with a dazzling assortment of Korean dishes - and it almost feels friendly, a few jokes traded around the adults while the kids have their own fun.
Baby Joon-ki is already in his cot, and Buck takes a moment to watch over his sleeping nephew. Then a shadow blocks the light from the hall.
"Hey," says Tommy softly.
"Hey." Buck smiles at him, genuine now. Tommy comes into the room when Buck inclines his head in invitation. "Kid's wiped out."
"It's been pretty momentous." Tommy slips his hands into his pockets. "Adorable kid though."
They stand side by side, watching the baby, and music filters into the room. For a moment, Buck could almost believe this is my child, this is my husband.
"How have you been?" Buck asks. "Anyone new in your life?"
Tommy shakes his head. "Haven't had time." He takes a deep breath. "I heard from Eddie that you, uh, you broke up with that lifeguard. Jay?"
"Ray," says Buck. Then he licks his lips. "We never did dance at Maddie's wedding. Can I ask you for one?"
"Now?"
Buck holds up a hand and tilts his head, a small flutter of a smile on his lips. "Now."
For a heartbeat, Tommy looks like he wants to refuse. Then he exhales and takes Buck's hand, accepts the other hand at his waist.
As they sway to the music, Buck looks directly at Tommy. It helps that they are of the same height. "I miss you. It's been over a year, and I still miss you."
Tommy blinks at him, perhaps surprised at the confession. His answering smile is small and tentative. "Yeah, me too."
"Can we try again?" Buck asks, still swaying slowly, guiding them in a small circle around the baby's room. "You can't say that I don't know what I want now. I've done my exploring. I've done my learning. And I am more than ever certain that you are who I want to be my last."
"I want to try again," Tommy replies, equally quietly, reverently. "I went to therapy again, unpacked... unpacked a lot of the shit I said that night. It was unfair to you."
"Not entirely untrue though."
"I wouldn't know." Tommy pauses, and then adds, "I'd like to find out."
Buck smiles. He feels lighter, clearer than he has for a long time. "So... you'll call me Evan again?"
Tommy sighs, smiles back. "I never stopped thinking of you as Evan. I'm sorry I ran."
"Good. Be sorry." Buck cradles Tommy's cheek and draws him in. "We'll try again. No more running, okay? Rough times, or if either of us do something stupid, we talk it out. Promise me that."
"Of course."
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a rtc karnak (one who is physically in the box) where for the intermission they stay on stage in the box the whole time and maybe interact with the audience . idk just think that would be cool
#DOWNVOTE#LOSER IDEA!!!!!!1!#but really he could do some fortune telling for them like that except for one of you joke#fake obviously#or they could just sit there ominously because#karnak is silly hed just be chilling#ride the cyclone#the amazing karnak#karnak#jett talks (me)#musical theatre#theatre#musical#musicals
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this is inspired by inês and pedro from portugese history or smth BUT imagine being a servant to some noble princess and she marries your future yandere! king who falls for you instead of his wife.
you're loyal to your princess and don't reciprocate his feelings obviously. also, you're just a mere servant, not even of any noble blood. you can't dare to imagine being with a king. that doesn't stop the man from wanting you all to himself though.
he's never felt anything like this before. like yes, he's seen beautiful peolple but it doesn't even match up to the feelings that stir inside him when he as much as thinks about you. everything he feels makes him feel like a pre-pubescent boy that wants you carnally. it's a bit embarrassing. he's the king of a kingdom after all. always calm, always composed, never rash or impulsive. not like this.
but you're perfect.
he must have you. he's worked so hard, surely he deserves some compensation in the form of someone he really adores. so what if he has a wife? it was just an arranged marriage anyway. he bets his wife doesn't even like him and has a secret lover somewhere else.
you're the one he wants. not this random princess.
so he pursues you, wanting nothing more than for you to love him back. to love him and only him. all his council men and advisors tell him not to do it. that it's not wise to go after his wife's servant, some no name commoner. he doesn't care.
unfortunately for you, you succumbed to his advances. fortunately for him, you began to show him the love he so desperately craved.
and thus began your not-so-secret relationship. it was... quite wonderful, actually. he was an amazing lover. he treated you to the finest delicacies and spoiled you rotten. he truly only ever wanted the best for you and it showed in his actions. so much so that everyone was aware of how fond he was over you. even the queen (your princess) was supportive of your relationship with him.
however, all good times have to come to an end.
as expected, his parents weren't happy with your relationship with their son. are you serious? this random ahhh commoner is the one their son loves?? no way. this does not match their agenda.
you were charged with treason and sentenced to death not long after. your beloved king couldn't even do anything about it because he was in another kingdom attending to important affairs. truly the most despicable of parents.
you were set to be executed on the gulliotine in the middle of the kingdom. public humilation, is it? you made your way to your death bed, staring at the masses of people who commented about how pitiful you were. alas was the fate of an unlucky commoner.
"thank you, my love."
and you shut your eyes, never to open them ever again as the blade came falling down on your neck.
"stop!"
it was too late. the blade had already sliced your head off your body, blood pooling on the ground as your lifeless body remain limp on the gulliotine.
all was quite, except the laboured breaths of the kingdom's king as he shakily made his way over to your head. his hands were cold, eyes wide open in horror as he mutters to himself as though it would comfort him.
"no, no, no... hey, this is just a joke right? this..."
everyone in the area could only stare silently as their king silently wept over your death. his once pristine white garments now stained red as he cradles your head in his arms.
"why? why you? anyone but you..."
who knew that your death would be witnessed by your lover too? that your death day would coincide with his homecoming?
and just as fast as his despair and sadness came, so did rage.
all was calm except for the screams of his parents as his sword plunged deep into their chests. his face was dark, jaw tight as he gave a mere glance back at the crowd.
"kill everyone. make sure no one leaves alive."
at his order, all hell broke loose. where was the calm and benevolent king they knew?!
screams of pain and agony, cries for mercy... the crowd could only watch as their king stood beside your body. there wasn't a hint of remorse in his face. in fact, they couldn't read what he was even feeling. all they could see was the face of a man who was utterly crushed and desperate for his lover.
...
a few days after his massacre, he had divorced his ex wife and crowned you as his new spouse. he had carefully sown your head back onto your body, not wanting anyone else to touch what was his.
"you're beautiful, my darling."
he kisses your cold lips, helping you get dressed in your coronation outfit. his hands were soft, gentle as they always were with you. he wouldn't let anyone touch you. no, they didn't deserve to touch you. only he did.
he gently carried your body out to the grand hall, not caring about the terrified glances and looks from his advisors and the royal court. right, he had also brutally murdered anyone related to your death. the executioner, the advisors who agreed to your execution... no longer was he the benevolent king he was once known as but a mad dog.
"bow down to your new ruler."
he'll make sure you get recognised as what you were supposed to be recognised as.
how dare they try and kill you like you weren't his one and only? how dare they think so little of you and get rid of you when he wasn't in the country? that is a royal crime. not only are they looking down on you, but on him as well.
"from now on, you will listen to every demand and word that my spouse says."
if the air around the ballroom wasn't so thick, it might have come out as a joke. after all, you were dead. how were you to talk every again?
"welcome our new ruler."
that wasn't a question. it was a demand.
your king will make sure you get the love and respect you deserve. and who knows, maybe he'll get you back with how dedicated he is. he knows a thing or two about dark magic, perhaps the next thing he'll do is bring you back to life.
yes, that is a good idea. that way you and him can truly be together once again.
#yandere#tw yandere#yandere x reader#yandere drabbles#yandere scenarios#yandere imagines#yandere concepts#yandere king#yandere king x reader#gn reader#suiana rambling#suiana brainrotting
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Cupids in Converses
Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader
Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)
Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.
Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.
Word count: 4.1k (whoops)
February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year.
Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.
“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth.
“Medusa was Saturday.”
“I thought Sunday?”
“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.
“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…”
“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.
“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.
“Surely what?”
“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.
“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”
“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.
“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.
“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”
“What’s in it for me?”
“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”
One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.
“Fine.”
Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell
It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.
The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings.
“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.
“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.
“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”
“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”
Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.
“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”
“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.
“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.
“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.
For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”
“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.
Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you.
However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.
“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.
“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”
Stage 2: Romantic gesture
You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.
"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure.
At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.
"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.
Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.
You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea.
“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.
Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.
Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”
“No, you?”
“Nope.”
“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”
“Huh?—”
“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”
“What do you mea—”
“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”
“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.
“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh.
“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”
“Uh-huh”
“And he makes me laugh all the time…”
“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them.
You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly.
“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand.
“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much.
“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.
Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.
However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips.
“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.
If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”
You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously.
You looked breathtaking.
And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you.
However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.
Final Stage: Valentine’s Day
Annabeth had said yes.
You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.
“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.
The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.
“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck.
However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”
Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.
After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.
The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke.
You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment.
You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.
“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.
A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on.
Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:
“There you see her, sitting there across the way.
She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”
His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you.
“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try
You wanna kiss the girl.”
The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.
“Luke.”
“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.
“Yes, you want her
Look at her, you know you do”
Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.
“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”
Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again.
“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent.
You nodded wordlessly.
“It don’t take a word, not a single word
Go on and kiss the girl.”
Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.
All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.
You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him.
Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.
“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked.
“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.
You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.
14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending.
Bonus:
“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.
Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.
Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?
----------------------
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#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x you#luke castellan oneshot#luke castellan#luke castellan fanfiction#pjo fic#pjo#charlie bushnell#pjo imagine#percy jackson and the olympians#pjo tv show#pjo series#best friends to lovers#fluff
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hey, I could ask the royal boys (Leona, Kalim and Malleus) with the male reader who is already the king of his country, like the boys thought he was a prince like them, but then on any given day he lets out a complaint how difficult it is to govern the kingdom and study for exams at the same time, sometimes he just wanted to be the prince and not the king.
characters: leona, kalim and malleus x king!male reader
tags: platonic, canon compliant, fluff, imagines + scenario format
warnings: a little bit of negativity towards reader in leona's part, a bit of swearing in kalim's
author's notes: loving all the male reader requests rn. i think i strayed a bit from the prompt but i hope you like it anyway <3
Leona Kingscholar
Though being a prince himself, he’s not as ���diplomatic” with the other princes at that school - except for you probably. No don’t ask him what happened, he’s ready to accept it as it is
At least because of your (assumed) status, he finds it easier to communicate with you; at least you’re not one of the top five most powerful mages in the world or the most optimistic person in Twisted Wonderland
Hangouts with him still consist more of silent chilling though; both of you just need to get away from it all for a while
He doesn’t question the days that you’re gone - sometimes people just end up needing you to do this and that. He tries not to dwell on it too much, lest his inferiority complex gets the best of him
Until one day, you come back after one day of absence, which is normal enough until-
“*sigh* I swear, being king is less appealing as my retainers make it sound, especially since I also have to go to school all the while.”
I’m sorry, being what now?
He knew you were royalty, that much he got from everyone whispering about you back when you enrolled and since you made little mention of your background, he just assumed you were a prince like him
You let out a tired chuckle then and comment on how you forgot that you never told him you’re an actual king of a nation
He has mixed feelings over this - he thought he finally met someone a little bit like him, yet you’re just another one of them and you never bothered telling him who you are?
But don’t worry, he gets over his feelings of betrayal after a while; it’s not like the reveal changed who you are as a person. You’re still the same guy who he’s been hanging out with and he knows his brain is trying to defend itself
You apologize for not telling him sooner and despite your complaints, you try not to sound ungrateful, especially considering his issues
At some point, even Leona himself starts to forget about that fact
It doesn’t matter if you carry a whole nation on your shoulders because - and he will never say this out loud - he knows you’re capable and if you start to crumble, he’ll be there for you.
Kalim Al-Asim
Though he’s not one to really care about someone’s social status, he’s happy to have more royal friends
Doesn’t stop him from spoiling you. Haven’t you heard? Any friends of Kalim are also friends of his many, many fortunes
He invites you over to Scarabia for parties every so often and either you are surrounded by people or everyone leaves you alone out of intimidation
But hey, if the latter happens, Kalim is more than happy to help you make some friends (unless you’re uncomfortable with it of course but he’ll still try to help)
One time, at one of his many parties, you two were simply laughing over something and it reminded you of something-
“That makes me think of the time this creature took a shit on my throne back at home - it took a few days for the stench to fade!”
Oh, of course, your throne! Everyone totally has a literal throne back home! Until Kalim realizes that is, in fact, untrue
As if he wasn’t already excited at the prospect of a new friend, he gets more excited at the fact that you have your own throne and is, he concludes, a monarch
You brush him off, light pink decorating your cheeks, saying that it’s not really that special - and you mean it
You tell him of the experience and you couldn’t help slip in a few complaints; it isn’t easy to juggle both school and royal responsibilities at the same time
He only listens in and tries his best to understand; he is no king, and though he is a housewarden and a prince, your struggles differ from his by a long mile
From that day on, he makes sure to check in on you and if you’re feeling less than, he’ll drop everything and do anything to relieve you of your stress
When he drops by your nation and your palace, he brings in a whole parade. It’s so Kalim that you can only laugh
You knew that story about a creature shitting on your throne was gonna be a good story at parties.
Malleus Draconia
Your presence is an absolute delight to him; it didn’t occur to him to ask what kind of royalty you are but it didn’t matter either way
He finds himself more comfortable talking about his heritage around you, knowing that you can somewhat relate to being of nobility
If you’re not part of his club, sometimes you tag along on his gargoyle crusades for the hell of it - seeing him so passionate about something brings a smile to your face
On one of your many escapades, he points out a gargoyle and begins to ramble about its features
Hearing it suddenly makes you remember-
“Ah gosh, I just remembered I should be back home right now, some of my people will be coming over to construct some gargoyles around my castle.”
He doesn’t question it at first but then the phrase “my people” registered in his mind. Wait, what do you mean your people?
You start to apologize for not telling him and also the fact that you have to leave that very moment
After you came back after the whole ordeal, you sit him down somewhere and tell him about your position
As mentioned, it doesn’t matter to him what responsibilities you have, as long as you can be his friend
You breathe out a sigh of relief and invite him to continue where you two left off last time
Nothing changes much between you two, except for the fact that you share more of your kingly experiences
He definitely drops by your place at least once - he could never miss out a chance on seeing some new gargoyles
And as he looks on at those beautiful waterspouts, you can’t help but be grateful that they can serve as a source of happiness for someone too.
#writing#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#platonic twst x reader#platonic twisted wonderland x reader#twst x m!reader#twisted wonderland x m!reader#twst x male reader#twisted wonderland x male reader#leona kingscholar x reader#leona x reader#leona kingscholar#kalim al-asim x reader#kalim x reader#kalim al-asim#malleus draconia x reader#malleus x reader#malleus draconia
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This chapter might be the start of literally the biggest thing ever and I'm SCARED.
I have SHIVERS.
Almost every important characters are gathering in one place.
Our Eden kids are finally playing outside the school.
For a spy like Twillight, this festival is literally a treasure of intels.
(Though, I was surprised when Twillight mention that Glooman Pharmaceuticals has no further connection with the Desmonds. I thought it's gonna be involved in some kind of drugs' development for war, but ig I was wrong.)
Remember how Twillight always look down on Anya because she can't study, she's hard to teach, and she doesn't excell in any sport or any other talents (except classical language)?
Now look at them.
Twillight finally sees just how valuable Anya is. How much Anya, a presumably six-year-old, has accomplished in the span of 6 months. I repeat. 6. months.
He's pleased because it's really convenient for his mission.
And yet, look at what Jeff wished for the kids.
The irony. The sweet, sweet irony.
As much as it pains him to acknowledge how right Jeff's words are, he cannot. He cannot dwell into such sentiments, because he's a spy. A spy must seize every opportunity to gain any information neccesary for his mission. For the sake of his goal; a world peace. For that goal, he will do anything. Even if he has to use his "daughter" and his "wife" for his own convenience.
Because of that, the very least he could to them is protect their well-being and happiness.
Twillight has established that since long ago. But will things change after this arc? That is the big question.
Now we are entering, what I call, "the fortune teller arc." (until we get a better name imma stick to this one.)
Somehow, in every series I've read that has a fortune teller in it, it ended up changes (read: fucks up) the MC's life forever.
I've been predicting the involvement of Crowley in the future; from his name reference, his hairstyle, his excellence in Classical language, everything.
Look whose name Endo uses for the most popular fortune teller.
Heh.
(will Arnold Crowley appear in next chapter? Will he meet Anya in this arc?)
And look at the star of this chapter, who also plays as a fortune teller!
Melinda Desmond.
Who would've thought.
Suddenly, her earrings and ring's design make so much sense.
Is it safe to say now that Crowley and Melinda Desmond are occultists?
Or maybe just one of them?
I know jumping to conclusion is dangerous, but I just can't help it.
I still can't speak if Melinda and Crowley family are related to each other because there's no evidence of their relation (yet). But I can at least tell you this:
Melinda probably uses fortune telling as a way to collect informations. Her ad speaks for poor, desperate people. She doesn't charge her clients for a single cent. Even if she already claimed that her predictions are way off, it doesn't matter for desperate people. Desperate people will use desperate means. Poor people are not poor because they wanted to. There must be a reason, a circumstances; that intel is probably what Melinda aims to get.
Or maybe I was wrong. Maybe Melinda is genuinely a noble person, and she's just trying to help as many people as possible with her "free" fortune telling. Who knows.
Though, it is peculiar to note that Melinda only started recently. How recent, I wonder. Is it before, or after the dinner she had with Donovan, her husband?
Hmmm.
I'm also curious at Endo's reference for Melinda's alias: Lunaluna Selena. Luna, as in, Latin for [the moon]? Selena, as in, Selene [the Greek & Roman's moon goddess]?
The moon, huh. Remember how Anya's power is heavily reliant on the moon? Like, she lost her power when it's a new moon?
Hmmmmm.
TLDR; Anya confessed to Damian that she can read minds. Now Anya enters a fortune teller place. Twillight used to underestimate Anya's ability a lot. Now he sees how valuable she is, yet, he is stuck between his logic (wanting to utilize her to the max) and his heart (wanting to free her from the burden of his mission and let her be a happy normal kid). Melinda and Yor are friends. Now they meet again, when Melinda is doing her side hustle. Arnold Crowley is a kid who excels in Classical Language, and holds a great interest in Anya. Now we see that Crowley family runs a popular fortune-teller. Melinda just had an awful dinner with Donovan. Now we see that she recently run a fortune-telling stall for free. Almost all important characters in SxF are gathering in one place. All build-ups are seemingly leading towards this moment.
Let's give Endo some space & time to cook, shall we.
#so frustrated to wait for a month for the next chapter but#anything he needs to produce a high quality chapter#spy x family#spy x family manga#sxf spoilers#spy x family manga spoilers#spy x family 107#sxf#sxf manga#sxf manga spoilers#sxf 107#spy x family theory#sxf theory
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lookism x teaching them your language
author’s note ; someone here is specially for @imtomiee 💋 also correct me if i used some words wrong way!!
tw ; swearing words on different languages! fluff
GOO KIM — RUSSIAN
evening air was cool, but the vibe in the room was anything but. you were lounging on the couch with Goo, your legs tangled together in a comfortable mess, a playful banter going back and forth as it often did when the two of you were together. Goo, ever the curious one, had recently taken an interest in learning a few words from your native language—russian.
of course, knowing Goo, it wasn’t the polite phrases he wanted to learn.
“so, what’s the next one?” Goo asked, his signature smirk plastered on his face as he leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. you raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment before deciding to go all in. “alright - alright, how about this one — poshel nahui.”
Goo’s eyes widened slightly, intrigued by the sound of the words. he tried repeating it, stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables. “po…poshel nahui?”
you couldn’t help but laugh at his attempt. “gosh, babe, you’re doing such a great job,” you teased, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “you sure you don’t know russian? or maybe in a previous life been russian?”
Goo’s grin widened, clearly pleased with your praise. “really? what does it mean?” he asked, his curiosity piqued. you tilted your head, giving him a sly smile. “it’s like… sending someone on the dick.”
Goo’s eyes lit up with amusement, and he laughed, the sound rich and warm in the small space. “but i don’t want anyone else except you on my dick!” he declared, his tone both playful and his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. you rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him away, though you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “it’s not necessarily yours, hun,” you quipped, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “you can send them on Gun’s dick.”
the smirk that spread across Goo’s face was devilish, and he let out a low chuckle, clearly entertained by the idea. “oh, i’m definitely using that one,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in to capture your lips in a brief, but heated kiss.
PARK JUNGUN — ARABIC
you and Jungun were lounging on the couch, both scrolling through delivery apps, the familiar debate simmering just below the surface.
“how about we order Italian tonight?” you suggested, your mouth watering at the thought of creamy risotto and cheesy pizza. Jungun’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back with a sly grin. “italian? seriously? we just had that last week. i want sushi,” he declared, his tone dripping with playful arrogance.
you crossed your arms, feeling a familiar annoyance bubble up. “but sushi is so… predictable! italian has variety, flavor, and soul! plus, you can’t deny that a good lasagna is perfect comfort food.”
he chuckled, shaking his head dismissively. “comfort food? you mean your heavy, cheesy dishes that weigh you down? sushi is light and refreshing. it’s an experience, not just a meal.”
“an experience that costs a fortune! at least with Italian, you get value for your money. you can’t tell me sushi is worth the price when half of it is just rice!” you could feel your cheeks flush, but you refused to back down. “rice is the foundation of life! and sushi is an art form — i can’t believe you’re comparing it to some pasta dish,” he shot back, his eyes gleaming with challenge. “you’re just being stubborn because you can’t appreciate the finer things.”
“finer things? like overpriced fish that’s raw? you’re just being defensive because you’re japanese!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “admit it, you’re biased!”
“bias? me? i just have better taste!” he retorted, a smirk plastered on his face. “you’ll come around one day; i’ll make sure of it.”
“yeah, right! you’re impossible!” you rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “you’re like a child throwing a tantrum over his favorite toy.”
“child? at least i know what i want, unlike you, who can’t make up her mind!” he shot back, leaning closer, his arrogance palpable.“make up my mind? this is about you being stubborn! you’ll never admit when you’re wrong!” you felt your heart race, both from the argument and the undeniable chemistry between you. he leaned back, arms crossed, a smug look on his face. “and you’ll be the one begging for sushi sooner or later. just wait.”
“okay, how about a compromise?” you proposed, trying to mediate the escalating tension. “let’s do Italian tonight, and sushi tomorrow. you’ll still get your fix!”
for a moment Gun pretended to ponder. “hmm, let me think… nope! i’m not settling for anything less than sushi tonight.” you sighed dramatically, an amused smile creeping onto your lips. “you’re the absolute worst, you know that?”
“stubborn? no, i’m just determined,” Gun replied, his arrogance unwavering. after a few more rounds of playful banter, you finally relented, knowing how stubborn he could be. “fine! we’ll have sushi tonight, but only because i can’t deal with your arrogance any longer.”
“yeah, that’s right” he exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out his phone to place the order.
as the two of you settled back on the couch, the tension dissolved, and a comfortable silence fell between you, you found yourself leaning against him, his warmth comforting. you felt a rush of affection and couldn’t help but murmur into his shoulder, “ya5rab baito sho habito” Jungun pulled back slightly, a confused look on his face. “bitch, tf you just said?”
with a calm smile, you leaned your head against his shoulder and whispered, “literal translation: may your house get ruined i love you.”
he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re impossible!” but he tightened his embrace around you, pulling you closer.
“sometimes, you can be so stubborn,” you teased, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye.
“and yet, you love me for it,” he replied, a smirk playing on his lips. “of course i do,” you shot back, your heart full as you nestled deeper into his warmth.
JIN HOBIN — GERMAN
it was just another chaotic day at school, the halls buzzing with the usual chatter of students. Hobin strode through the corridors, his presence commanding attention. he was used to the whispers and glances, but today, something else caught his eye.
in a quiet corner, you sat on a bench, phone pressed to your ear, animatedly talking to a friend. as you hung up, Hobin approached, curiosity piqued. “hey, what were you talking about?”
you looked up, slightly flustered. “just my friend. nothing important.” he smirked, leaning against the wall. “you speak german, huh?”
“yeah,” you replied, trying to downplay it.
“cool. can you teach me some swear words?” he asked, his tone teasing. you shrugged, playing along. “sure. like ‘Verdammtes Miststück.’” [fair-DAM-tes MIST-shtook]
Hobin raised an eyebrow. “what does that mean?”
“it means ‘damn jerk,’” you explained, a small smile creeping onto your face. “damn, that’s spicy,” he laughed. “i might have to start using that.”
just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. you stood up, ready to head to class. but as you walked away, something clicked in Hobin’s mind. he suddenly remembered that phrase — that phrase. the memories flooded back, taking him by surprise.
“wait!” he yelled, sprinting after you. “bitch, you called ME that name??” you turned around, feigning innocence. “what? i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“don’t play dumb! you always called me that when we were enemies!” his voice was a mix of disbelief and playful frustration. “you used it all the time!”
you shrugged, trying to suppress a grin. “i really don’t remember.”
“seriously?” he exclaimed, a smirk forming on his lips. “you were always throwing that word around at me! you can’t just forget that!”
“maybe i just didn’t like you,” you shot back, trying to keep a straight face.
“come on! admit it!” Hobin insisted, laughter bubbling up despite himself. “admit what?” you teased, enjoying the banter. “that i cursed at my rival? sounds a bit dramatic.”
“dramatic? you were practically a german swearing machine!” he laughed, shaking his head. “i can’t believe i’m just now connecting the dots.”
you couldn’t help but smile at his animated reaction, feeling a thrill at the memories of your rivalry. “well, maybe i did. but you know what? it’s not like I’m going to do it again.”
Hobin stepped closer, his expression playful yet intense. “oh, I’m counting on it. you’re just too fun to mess with.”
with that, he gave you a wink and turned to leave, a confident swagger in his step. you watched him go, heart racing. it was strange how easily the tension from those rivalry days transformed into something more intriguing, something that hinted at new beginnings. as you walked to class, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this playful back-and-forth was just the start of something.
RYOHEI KURODA — ENGLISH
you were curled up on the couch, engrossed in your book, when your adorably clueless boyfriend, flopped down beside you with a dramatic sigh.
“y/n! teach me english!” he whined, resting his head on your shoulder. you sighed, trying to focus on your reading. “Ryohei, we’ve been at this for hours. you need to practice more!”
“but i want to learn from you! you’re the best teacher!” he clung to your arm, his eyes wide and pleading.
after 5 minutes of him being annoying you finally, you gave in, exasperated but amused. “alright, fine! but i’m teaching you something cool.” you leaned closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “say ‘bastard.’ it’s a fun word!”
“bas-tard,” he repeated like a child who just reached to something that was once forbidden, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
“good! just don’t overdo it, okay?” you warned, chuckling.
later that day, Ryohei strolled into work, his confidence soaring. he spotted Eugene, who was busy with paperwork. with playful boldness, Ryohei called out, “hey, you bastard!”
Eugene blinked, stunned, while Ryohei burst into laughter, clearly unfazed by the shocked expression on his boss's face.
you could only imagine the chaos that would ensue. mortified yet secretly amused, you buried your face in your hands. Ryohei might be a handful, but he sure knew how to make life interesting — and you loved him for it.
bonus ; later that day Ryohei was feeling bold again. he spotted Kenta and, with a playful grin, shouted, “bastard!”
Kenta’s expression dropped, and he looked genuinely upset. “Ryohei, that’s not cool,” he said quietly. Ryohei’s smile faded as he felt a pang of guilt, especially since Kenta was usually so quiet. Ryohei took a deep breath and approached him.
“Magami, what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone sincere.
Kenta shrugged, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just... i know english better than you, and it was disrespectful.”
Ryohei’s heart sank at his words. “brooo wdym im really sorry. i didn’t mean to upset you,” he whined, shaking Kenta’s shoulder.you stepped in, sensing the tension. “how about we all go get milkshakes? it’ll be on me..”
SEO SEONGEUN — POLISH
smooth purr of Seongeun’s Rolls-Royce filled the quiet atmosphere as he drove through the city, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel while the other hung over the gear shift. you sat beside him, gazing out the window, trying to keep yourself occupied while Seongeun focused on the road. you had been living in Korea for a while now, and while your korean was pretty good, there were still moments where your native polish slipped out, especially when you were irritated or frustrated.
however, it had been one of those days, and your mood was already on edge. the final straw was when your phone buzzed with an annoying notification about the broken coffee machine back at home. you groaned, rubbing your temples in frustration as the stream of oolish curses tumbled from your lips.
“ja pierdolę...” you muttered, trying not to dwell on your frustration.
without taking his eyes off the road, Seongeun raised an eyebrow, his tone casual but curious. “what do you mean babe?”
you blinked, glancing over at him. “what?”
he briefly glanced at you with a smirk before focusing back on the road. “the stuff you always mumble when you're annoyed. you’ve been doing it for weeks, and I don’t get it.”
you flushed a little, realizing he’d been picking up on your muttered polish rants this whole time. “oh! that... yeah, i tend to mutter in polish when i’m emotional. it’s like a habit.”
Seongeun’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, but there was an amused glint in his eye. “and what exactly are you saying?” a small smile tugged at your lips. “you wanna learn some polish, babe?” you teased, poking his arm. he scoffed lightly but couldn’t hide his smirk. “i’m just curious. what do you say when you’re pissed?”
you hesitated, suddenly feeling shy about explaining. “well... i usually say ‘ja pierdolę’ or ‘kurwa mać.’” your cheeks flushed deeper as you tried to explain. “the first one means ‘fuck it,’ like when something goes wrong. and the second one… um... direct translation means... uh... ‘fuck your mother.’” you winced slightly, knowing how it sounded out of context.
Seongeun let out a low laugh, shaking his head “yeah, fuck that bitch. so what about the translation?”
you chuckled softly, your hand covering your mouth as you tried to find the words. “baby, i just told you! it doesn’t mean that literally. it’s more like saying ‘FUCK IT!!’ but with extra aggression.”
Seongeun laughed again, his deep voice rumbling through the car as he reached over to squeeze your knee affectionately. “gotcha, babe. polish frustrations... i get it.”
just as you relaxed, a mischievous glint appeared in Seongeun’s eyes. “so, what’s the deal with that beaver stuff? do you guys have beef with beavers or something? how do you say it? bo-bober? bober kurva?”
you stared at him for a moment, utterly blindsided by his sudden question. then, it hit you, and you couldn’t help but let out a snicker. your heart swelled with pride at his attempt.
“babe...” You blinked dramatically, pretending to wipe away proud slavic tear. “you’re trying to get it right. i’m so proud of you!”
he smirked, his gaze still fixed on the road, though you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. “whatever makes you happy, baby. but seriously, tell me more about this beaver meme.”
#[ ~ koi.talks🗣]#lookism#lookism imagines#lookism fic#lookism imagine#webtoon lookism#lookism x reader#lookism webtoon#lookism manhwa#x reader#webtoon#headcanon#kim goo x reder#lookism kim joon goo#lookism goo#kim goo#goo kim
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Hey I seen you’re asking for some Eddie requests. I was wondering if I could request something really angsty where Eddie chooses someone else over reader (can be a happy ending or not) but I just want to hurt think I need it out my system 😂 please and thank you
Request by anon.
Angsty but with a happy ending (for reader)
♥️
The heartache you felt was like nothing else, you had thought that Eddie was interested in you, that there was a possibility the two of you might start dating.
Truly you had thought that the flirting between the two of you meant something more. Yet it didn't.
Instead of asking you on a date, Eddie had chosen to date Louise King.
In truth, you didn't even find out until school on Monday, the school was abuzz sigh gossip and your best friend Tina told you.
"Oh my god, did you hear about Louise and Eddie, she hooked up with the freak at Jason's party and they are together now. Like together together" her eyes light up with the absolute scandal of it all while you felt like your heart was being stamped on.
"What?" you whisper but Tina doesn't hear you and instead focuses on gossiping with Anna. You feel nauseated and decide to go and find Eddie, you don't have to look far, Louise is hanging off him like a limpet, she's all giggly and hyper.
"Uh, can we talk for a second Eddie. Um about our class project?" you didn't have one but it's the only way you figured you could speak to him.
Fortunately, he takes the hint and removes himself from Louise, he follows you to a more secluded area and you peer up at him confused.
"What's going on Eddie, I thought that you might have asked me out, that we had a spark but now I come to school and you're dating Louise?" you murmur and Eddie's eyes flicker with something you can't place before his face turns smooth and impassive.
"Yeah. Well, you thought wrong sweetheart, I'm not interested in you and never have been" he's so cold as he says this and you blink back tears.
"Right. So instead of telling me this, you lead me on and let me flirt with you like a fool to what? Stroke your ego? You're an asshole Eddie Munson. Exactly like Jason except he wouldn't even do this" you see the flash of hurt in his eyes but don't care and walk away from him.
Tough shit.
Finally, the tears fall freely.
❤️
After avoiding Eddie and Louise all day you head out of school in a rush to get home. Your heart is still aching and you just want to crawl in bed and cry everything out.
In your rush to get away, you stumble and drop your notes from class, wipe the tears away from your eyes and try to pick them all up. Fuck, stupid notes, stupid Eddie.
Someone helps you gather them all, you see tanned hands gather them quickly and when you peer up Steve is smiling at you. Oh... you smile shyly at him and say thanks.
"No problem honey, hey did you watch that movie last week that I recommended? Back to the future is a superior film" you giggle and shake your head.
"No, not yet" You swear that you can feel eyes on you but when you turn around no one is there.
Weird.
Steve is sweet and very flirty, actually flirting with you and making you laugh. It's a nice feeling after today and maybe things eventually might be okay?
Steve offers to drive you home and you nod still smiling. "Hey, you been crying?" he asks concerned and you shrug.
"Just thought this guy liked me. Turned out I was very wrong" The pain hits you again but you manage to ignore it. Steve frowns at this.
"Well then he's a dickhead and not worth your time, hey you wanna hang with me and Robin today?" Yes, yes you really would.
As you're leaving you don't notice Eddie leaning up against the wall and watching you and Steve leave together.
Even if you did well why should you care? Eddie made his bed so he would just have to lie in it.
❤️
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington x you
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Lucifer and Alastor becoming the guardian of each other's secrets.
Not intentionally, not at first. It starts with Lucifer, as he sees things that Alastor would really, really rather he not -- the angelic tint in his wound, the shackle around his neck. Some things you can't hide from the King of Hell, not if he bothers to truly look.
And unfortunately for Alastor, he's incapable of not drawing attention to himself. Perhaps more fortunately, Lucifer doesn't tell anyone. Alastor knows better than to think it's altruism. Surely, he's just keeping that knowledge to use against him later. It's what he would do. Blackmail, collateral.
The truth is, Alastor doesn't know quite as much as he thinks he does.
Alastor tries to claw back some sort of advantage. Lucifer is like his daughter -- powerful but softhearted, weak to a kind word or hint of praise. They clash, loudly and frequently, but over time the clashes become less vicious and turn more into a sort of game. A rivalry, a competition that is more tinged with "friendly" than not. How thrilling, to have someone who can match you word for word, blow for blow.
And sure enough, Lucifer begins to open up. And once he starts, it's hard for him to stop -- allowing Alastor windows into his soul, into his guilt and his sorrow and his regrets. Into the thoughts that drove him into solitude, surrounded by nothing but the empty gazes of thousands of rubber ducks. Alastor revels in this, this knowledge, this view into such weakness. Finally, he is balancing the scales, collecting the chinks in Lucifer's armor for the day in which he may need to slip a proverbial dagger into the gaps.
He doesn't realize, at first, that he's giving away more of himself. Hints into his own behavior, his own past, his own fears. Much as he may pretend, even to himself, that he doesn't have them... Lucifer's older than sin. He knows, more than anyone, that everybody is afraid of something. Alastor is no exception.
Alastor, who is convinced that he's cradling Lucifer's secrets close to his chest because he is saving them for the moment when they would do the most damage. Not acknowledging that such a moment could have come and gone many times already. Not listening to the small voice in the back of his mind whispering that he won't ever share these secrets, because no one else is worthy of them. No one else holds them.
The king's wounds belong to Alastor, and no one else. He isn't keen on sharing.
And Lucifer, for his part, guards Alastor's skeletons just as closely. Not because he intends to use them, no. He has no interest in such control. Instead if someone asks about them, he laughs, demurs, scoffs. Pretends ignorance.
After all, he understands pride.
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Hello! I'm not sure if you're taking regular requests, but can I request hcs for the Malleus, Deuce, Epel, Ace, and Azul finding out that the reader has a crush on someone from their dorm but it isn't them? The reader actually has a crush on one of the NPCs, and that NPC requites the reader's feelings. How would they react?
It's ok if you don't want to do this also. No pressure
-💀💅
SUMMARY: They find out you have a crush on someone from their dorm… that isn’t them.
WARNINGS: Cut-off swear in Epel’s section, angst D:
NOTES: why must you do this to me. I love these boys sm. how could you do this.
(Also, sorry for the delay D:)
There’s a hole inside of him that can’t be plugged with your friendship anymore. Almost everyone knows something is up - everyone except you. Around you, nothing’s different. He’s the same happy, goofy guy he always is. But the minute you’re not around, the smile fades, the joy is gone. He has zero motivation to do anything. And yet, he’s gotta continue being your friend. You don’t have a whole lot of people here for you. He’ll hide himself until he’s numb if it gives you the support you need.
“…”
He’s calling his mother, in tears, as soon as he gets a moment to himself. He doesn’t know what to do - he’s never really dealt with love before. His mother, fortunately, knows just how to soothe him, and he begins to move forwards and onwards. He distances himself a little out of respect - at least, until it all goes away. He doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable - especially since he tends to wear his heart on his sleeves. As soon as he can act normal around you again, he will, but please give him the opportunity to move on first.
“Hey, mum? …what do I do?”
He hated himself. Of course it wasn’t him. Of course it was another Octavinelle student. What was he thinking?! It’s just like those kids would tell him - he was slow and chubby and stupid, and that’s not counting the overblot incident, why would someone like you even look at someone like him? Azul isn’t proud of it, but he finds himself looking for dirt on the student. He’s not gonna use it or anything, but he needs some kind of way to cope, and throwing himself into his work seems the best possible course of action. At least, until his silly hopes and dreams stay shoved in the trash can where they belong.
“…those kids were right.”
It’s because he looks like a girl, isn’t it? He KNEW talking to Vil and Rook about this kinda thing was a bad idea - look at where it got him! Now he’s gotta live with the fact that he’s always playin second fiddle with you. Makes sense though - who’d wanna date a girly boy like him? Although, maybe if he proved to you that he’s the better choice, you’d like him instead? Or, maybe he could fistfight that other prissy pomefiore kid. He’s honestly not sure what would help him feel better right now. He feels very uncertain - like the world is both shattering and strangely familiar at the same time.
“I’m gonna beat his a-“
He’s sulking. You’re in love with someone else and he’s sulking. What is he supposed to do now? It’s entirely unfair that you are his everything, his happiest dream, yet he’s barely in yours - at least, not in the way he wants to be. He’s avoiding you for a while, locking himself in his roomm. The rain seems endless, thunder and lightning acting as proof of his bad mood. Sage Island almost floods. Lilia and Silver respect his wishes for you to be around less but think he’s being a bit dramatic.
“Malleus? It’s been storming for weeks now. Can you come out of your room?”
♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥
#Rhea's TWST Fics~!#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twst#twst fanfic#twisted wonderland x reader#twst angst#Ace Trappola#Ace Trappola x reader#Deuce Spade#Deuce Spade x Reader#Azul Ashengrotto#Azul Ashengrotto x Reader#Epel Felmier#Epel Felmier x Reader#Malleus Draconia#Malleus Draconia x Reader
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heyyyyyy Idk if you're still accepting requests for apollo if not that's fine BUTTTTTT if you are could you do a fic with him being so protective of the reader(like someone being rude to her at camp). Because you know how protective he is of his sister now imagine that but on the love of his life.
the weight of names
— apollo x daughter of hebe!reader
warnings: language, mentions of harassment.
a/n: Hello, to know if my requests are open, it usually says in my description or in my pinned post. Fortunately, your request came in before I closed them so it's fine. Thank you!
Things had changed at Camp Half-Blood. Some campers you used to hang out with were gone, and even though it wasn't forever, you missed them. You stayed year-round, stuck with the others who, while not bad company, just didn’t click with you, and you couldn’t figure out why.
— Ha, ha. Piper McLean's best friend — you heard behind you and rolled your eyes dramatically, fed up with it all.
— Yeah, tell us. If she has so much money, why doesn’t she take you out of here and bring you with her?
You weren’t surprised by their accusations; it was almost routine. Today, they picked on your friendship with Piper; another day, it’d be Annabeth or Jason. When they wanted to show off, it’d be Percy and Nico, and when they were really unbearable, Frank, Leo, Hazel, or even Will. But no matter what, the cherry on top was always...
— Or your god friend.
There it was, of course.
— Yeah, they say it’s Apollo — mocked a girl who seemed to be a daughter of Hermes. Had you ever gotten along with any of them? Maybe the Stoll brothers, but now only one twin was at camp, probably too busy dealing with ten other kids to keep his sister in line.
You never denied or confirmed anything; it was easier that way, but sometimes they were annoying. You wondered if they skipped the awful welcome video that ended with: A safe place for everyone.
In the end, they weren’t doing anything different from any public school, but it was worse: The outcasts bullying an outcast.
— Get lost, will you? — you sighed tiredly, and they let out a long "Oooh" that made your hand itch to strike.
—What? — challenged an Aphrodite girl with her hands on her hips. — Are you going to attack us with rainbows, little Hebe girl?"
— Maybe she took the 'little' part too seriously,— mocked another, a Demeter kid, and you wondered if you could burn all his crops with light projection, but you dismissed the idea. You’d never stoop to their level.
— Wow, great joke, Lionel. It’s not like you’ve told me that a thousand times already. — Your sarcasm made him angry, and he took a step towards you, ready to fight. That was the great part about camp; no one was truly defenseless except the newcomers, so challenging someone was easy, but you ignored him and headed to your cabin.
—Stop — commanded the Aphrodite girl, and you felt a sudden stiffness in your legs that made you fall to your knees. Their charm speak.
You heard the laughter behind you and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to relax when a dull thud interrupted their laughter, turning it into groans. At the sudden change, you looked over your shoulder and saw them on the ground, piled on top of each other, blinking repeatedly. You’d seen that effect a few times but never thought it could be that.
— Good thing you were looking the other way — said a voice, startling you. Next to you was him, his curly brown hair and blue eyes you liked to see, but only secretly.
—Apollo — you breathed in disbelief, making him smile. He tried to take your hand, but you pulled away, blushing. He understood; it wasn’t the moment, but he wasn’t going to stand by either.
—You — he turned, his Converse kicking up dust as he walked to them. The Demeter kid clicked his tongue at the sight of a tall, skinny guy with brown hair and blue eyes. He found it trivial, but campers watching from afar started murmuring.
—Who are you?— he asked, and at the same time, one of Hephaestus’ sons, Harley, came out of his cabin due to the noise. Seeing the guy, his eyes widened.
—LESTER?— he shouted so loudly Mount Olympus might’ve heard. The god smiled amicably. The other three looked confused.
— Is that your name?— asked the Hermes girl in a tone the old Apollo would never have forgiven. He narrowed his eyes but then just nodded.
— Yeah, let’s say it is. Or at least one of my names — he smiled, but it wasn’t a warm smile; it was full of disdain. — They call me that, but leaving that aside, know my name it's not helpful to you 'cause I’m also known for not tolerating injustice.
—Uuh— mocked the Demeter kid, and Apollo’s eyes bore into him.
— I’ll tell your mother — he accused, and the kid swallowed hard. —I know her well. Now...
He straightened up, looking down at them. One tried to get up, and Apollo snapped his fingers, pinning him to the ground again, which scared them, making them wonder if there was a child of some god of gravity around.
— Don’t bother this young lady anymore, and let me clarify something — he looked at you challengingly, making you blush, — yes, I’m her friend but not just that, she’s my-
—Enough — you interrupted nervously, and he smiled apologetically. Right, boundaries. He was learning that with you.
— Anyway, You need to stop. — he said firmly, and the three kids raised an eyebrow.
— Friend? When did I say that...— the Hermes girl recapped her words and realization hit her, — No.
Apollo nodded.
— Yes.
The dark way he said it sent a shiver down their spines, and he raised an eyebrow as he leaned towards the Hermes girl.
— And I’d recommend being careful with names. Ann, also daughter of Marlene.
Despite being the god of the sun, the coldness in his voice was relentless, and fear gripped them violently, making them run away screaming like babies.
The campers who knew him approached to say hello, but before he gave them his attention, he came up to you.
— Don’t let them do that anymore — he whispered in your ear, and you nodded. His hand caressed your cheek, and you smiled the smile he loved, resisting the urge to kiss you in front of everyone.
— See you — you said, watching him get dragged away by the other campers.
#maría's shared dreams☆。゚✧#pjo hoo toa#trials of apollo x reader#trials of apollo#trials of apollo x you#pjo#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus#percy jackson#pjo x reader#apollo pjo x reader#apollo pjo#apollo x you#apollo x reader#apollo#apollo x y/n#heroes of olympus#lester papadopoulos x you#lester papadopoulos x y/n#lester papadopoulos x reader#lester papadopoulos
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Deflections
Mattheo Riddle x reader
Interlocked pt 2
Summary: deflect (verb) to cause (someone) to deviate from an intended purpose.
word count: 2.5k
©️ obsessedwithceleste. This work belongs to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.
Getting close to Mattheo was significantly easier than you had initially anticipated.
Upon your return to Hogwarts you had hesitantly agreed to Professor Dumbledore’s plan with the stipulation that if the old wizard even suspected that you or Mattheo were ever in serious danger- the plan would be called off immediately, and measures would be taken to ensure everyone's safety.
The old man had seemed surprised when you included the boy’s well being as well as your own in your set of conditions, but hadn’t pushed the issue.
You had worried of course, that you might not even be able to get the plan off the ground. How was one supposed to magically appear in someone’s life? You hadn’t found any spells to help you in that particular area. Fortunately for you however, Dumbledore seemed to have pulled some strings as you were currently sat next to the curly haired boy in your assigned seat while you waited for your next class to begin.
You debated trying to start up conversation with the boy, but really what were you supposed to say? Hey, how’s dear ole dad? No. Got any deep, dark secrets you’d like to share with the class? Obviously not.
Lucky for you, Harry chose that exact moment to burst through the doors, muttering something anxiously to Hermione who honestly just looked exasperated.
“Harry please, just drop it for now,” she sighs, stopping and shaking her head at the boy.
“Mione it’s important!” Harry protests, shooting a nervous glance at Draco, and then the boy next to you.
You watch as Mattheo glares at the dark haired boy, a snarl forming on his lips as Harry continues to give him suspicious glances.
“Oh come off it Harry, just sit down, class is supposed to start soon anyway,” you speak up, hoping prevent any spats this early into the school year.
Hermione gives you a look of gratitude before steering Harry off into the direction of their own seats on the opposite side of the classroom.
“You ladies sure do have boy wonder on a tight leash,” Mattheo says after a moment once Harry is out of earshot.
You let out a surprised snort, looking at the boy next to you.
“That boy is a menace. And I’m not even that friendly with them. It’s a wonder Hermione is able to keep him and Ron alive half the time,” you reply cheekily.
Mattheo let’s put a laugh and you’re surprised by how genuinely happy the boy could sound. You had supposed happy moments were few and far between for him.
“So are you friends with them then?” He asks
“Friendly is the word I’d use for it,” you tell him. “More so with Hermione than the boys. She’s the one who invited me to join the DA last year. Probably wouldn’t have gotten involved otherwise.”
You watch as Mattheo tilts his head in consideration, fingers tapping rapidly against the desk.
“Wish us Slytherins had been invited. We hated Umbridge just as much as everyone else,” he says with a scowl. “Except maybe Draco, but man will use any excuse he can get to go on a power trip.”
You laugh softly at the last bit, but can’t help the guilt that rises up in you at the truth behind the boy’s words. It was true, every other house had been included in the DA, yet no one had bothered to acknowledge the distinct lack of green robes amongst them.
Before you can reply, Snape glides dramatically into the class room, eyes lingering momentarily on you and Mattheo before he moved on to the front of the room. It seemed he’d finally convinced the headmaster to give him the post for Defense Against the Dark Arts.
The next time you run into Mattheo is quite literal as you collide with the boy as you’re both browsing the never ending shelves of the Hogwarts library.
You were lost in your own little world, eyes scanning the worn down spines of the texts in a determined search. You didn’t even see him coming.
It only takes a split second to feel the weight hit you, the air escaping your lungs for a moment as the books in your arms thud to the ground.
“Shit, sorry bout that,” a deep voice mumbles, scrambling to grab at the books littering the floor.
As soon as you regain focus on the situation, you’re surprised to find the one and only Mattheo Riddle on the floor next to you. You hadn’t realized he was one to lurk about the library.
“It’s alright. We really should do this on purpose sometime,” you laugh as the boy sheepishly helps you pick your scattered books up off the floor.
The boy beside you freezes, looking at you with a shocked expression as the words leave your mouth.
“You want to be around me? On purpose?” He asks in a sort of disbelief as he eyes you warily.
You feel your heart clench at the earnestness with which the boy speaks. Clearly there were layers to this boy that others simply hadn’t cared to uncover. There were so many expectations that you had of the boy, but thus far, he'd crushed every one of them. He just seemed. Human. And yet not even the professors at the school cared to find out if this boy really was like his father. He was simply cast to the side, ever suspicious and conniving. Being the son of one of the most feared wizards in Britain, it probably came with the territory. But it felt absolutely cruel to be manipulating someone who really had no say in this upcoming war.
You had always thought that Dumbledore was the leader of the light. The epitome of goodness and moral strength, but looking at the curly haired boy in front of you made you wonder. Why were children doing the adult’s heavy lifting?
“Well sure. You were great in class the other day, and we don’t choose our family. We find it.” You reply, a tight lipped smile stretching across your face.
Mattheo was fucking stressed. The moment he had stepped foot back at Hogwarts with Lorenzo and Draco, it was like a mountain had been lifted off of his shoulders, only for a mansion to be dropped back on top of him.
Sure while they were at school they were technically out of his father’s reach. But the tasks he had assigned each of them? They loomed over the boys like a puppet master towered over his wobbling little marionettes.
The only one the boys could really focus on at the moment was Enzo’s task. To repair a broken vanishing cabinet. None of them wanted to think about Draco’s task. Mattheo shuddered at the thought. And then of course there was his.
It had been easy enough to find a target. Snape had practically handed him the perfect victim on a silver platter, seating him next to one of Potter’s friends in DADA. Maybe it was the flaring teenage defiance in him. Or the fact that the girl had turned out to be rather fit and witty, but the idea of seducing the girl at the demand of his father absolutely repulsed Mattheo.
His whole situation was fucked really. He could feel the burning in his forearm even now as his eyes scanned the library shelves. He hadn’t wanted any of this. None of them had. Draco may have been proud to hear his father’s mark at one point, but he knew better now. They all did. And they were suffering for it.
There wasn't a single day that the boy's didn't feel as though they were suffocating under the weight of it all. And then to make matters worse, they had dear Saint Potter up their arses, sniffing about where he had no business.
All these thoughts swirled through Mattheo’s thoughts as he haphazardly searched the library shelves for any and all books pertaining to repair spells, hoping to find something- anything that would aid Lorenzo.
Just as he’s turning into the next row of books, he runs straight into another student, jolting them forward as books fly out of their arms.
“Shit, sorry bout that,” he mutters, bending down to collect some of the fallen books.
When his eyes travel up again, he finds himself staring into the warm eyes of the very girl he’d been thinking of moments before. He must’ve bloody manifested her or something.
Your words echo softly in his head, the only thing really registering being the fact that you had asked to spend time with him.
Maybe in another life Mattheo would've been popular with the ladies of Hogwarts. He was attractive. He knew that. But no one wanted to associate with the likes of him when his father was looming about. Up to this point, students had been avoiding him like the bubonic plague. Mattheo couldn’t help but admire your confidence and the ease with which you conducted yourself around him as he stared at you with shock.
Under normal circumstances he would be attracted to you. Fuck. Under these circumstances he was bloody attracted to you.
“You want to be around me? On purpose?” He blurts out, immediately cursing his own idiocy.
“Well sure. You were great in class the other day, and we don’t choose our family. We find it.”
Yeah. He was done for. It feels like a warm, fuzzy blur as Mattheo agrees to meet there in the library the following night to study. And the world seems to move in slow motion as he makes his way back to his dorm as if in a trance.
“Find anything useful?” Lorenzo asks as soon as Mattheo steps through the door. He looks more ragged than normal. Hair askew and dark blue forming under his eyes. His usually go-lucky grin is subdued.
Mattheo shakes his head, slumping onto his bed.
“Think I might’ve accidentally begun my own task,” he grumbles, burying his head in his pillow. Maybe he should just suffocate himself now.
Glass shatters, glittering fragments scattering about the floor as Mattheo lets out a frustrated roar.
Lorenzo looks tiredly at his friend and then at the vase, previously in his friend’s hands, and now littering the floor with disinterest. It had been months of working endlessly on the blasted cabinet with little to no progress made. These bursts of outrage from Mattheo were nothing new.
“I’ll kill him myself! Fuck him. Fuck this. Fuck!” The curly haired boy raged, knocking another vase off of one of the random tables crammed into the wretched place.
“Let’s just call it a night,” Draco intervenes before Mattheo could cause any more damage to their surroundings.
The boy was seething, chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Go work on your own task hmm? That always calms you down,” Enzo adds, a sly smile forming on his tired face.
No matter how stressed the boys were, they always had the energy to tease him, Mattheo thought dryly to himself. He could feel his fists clenched tightly, still shaking as he focused on reigning himself back in.
“We reconvene tomorrow night. Snape got me a pass for the restricted section. I’ll take a look and report back,” Draco decides, the three of them making their way out of the room of hidden things.
Mattheo had calmed down significantly, but was still silently fuming as he spotted you in your usual spot next to the fireplace in the library.
He was mad at the world really. Mad that he was cursed with an evil thing to call a father. Mad that that thing was threatening his friends. Mad that there was nothing he could do about it. Mad that no one with any real power was doing anything about it. And mad that he was supposed to be manipulating the beautiful girl in front of him.
“Someone looks like they’ve had a rough night. Did Enzo set your bed on fire again?” You ask, looking up and noticing the rather mesmerizing boy hovering in front of you.
It had been months since the two of you had first started meeting in the library and it had been terribly awkward at first to be honest. The boy seemingly had locked up every single defining trait about him and surrounded himself with wall after wall.
It had taken time, but slowly and surely, the boy had begun to let you in. He was weary of course. Anyone would be in his position you supposed. But it was surprising how easily the two of you seemed to fit together.
Mattheo hums roughly as he plops down beside you, arm wrapping securely around you as you turn to face the boy.
“Just. Stuff with my father. You know how it always is,” he sighs, running a hand through his wild, curly hair.
You didn’t really. If there was one thing that Mattheo was always closed off about, it was his father. Not that you could blame him of course. He was actually rather open about his own life once you had gotten to know him a bit. Not hesitating to share with you the many escapades of him and his fellow Slytherins. But as soon as his father was mentioned, he snapped right back shut.
“Hmm, tell me about it?” You ask carefully, turning to face the boy fully as your hand traces the back of his.
You’re close enough to see the faint line of the scar that marred the boy’s pretty face, and how his eyes seemed to darken as his whole body tensed.
You let your thumb rub the soft skin of his wrist gently, resting your head in his shoulder as you wait patiently for the boy to speak.
Something else you’d gotten good at was calming the boy down when his anger flared up. Your silent support seeming to sooth whatever was raging beneath the surface.
You were trying to pick the boy’s brain. You knew that. And it felt grimy. Sickening really. It had taken weeks for the boy beside you to really trust you, and how did you repay him? By whispering in Dumbledore’s ear.
Mattheo lets out a deep sigh, resting his head on yours.
“My father.” He begins slowly, voice barely above a shakey whisper, “he assigned us tasks. Me, and Draco, and Enzo.”
You remain quiet as the weight of his words take hold. Harry had been going on all year about how he was sure the Slytherin boys were working for Voldemort. How could they not be with his very son leading them? But to hear it from Mattheo himself made the situation all the more real.
You wait a moment as the silence stretches on, and when the boy doesn’t elaborate further, you grasp onto the boy’s hand, giving it a tight squeeze.
“You’re not running away in horror.” Mattheo murmurs, eyes focused on the floor in front of him.
“You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me.”
The office of the headmaster was all too familiar at this point. The eyes of the portraits gazing upon the familiar visitor with disinterest.
Your stomach was in knots as the old man before you gazes at you steadily.
“Harry was right. They are working for Voldemort. Mattheo, Draco, and Lorenzo. He assigned them all tasks, but he wouldn’t say what.”
Tag list: @atadoddinnit @leona-hawthorne @leyla-1905 @weasleyreidstyles @mayamonroem @prettylilsimp @idonotknow7778 @lovefushi
#slytherin boys#slytherin#mattheo riddle fanfiction#matteo riddle fanfiction#matteo riddle x y/n#matteo riddle fanfic#mattheo riddle x y/n#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#Mattheo riddle fanfic#lorenzo berkshire#harry potter universe#matteo riddle#enzo berkshire#draco malfoy
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things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread
Part 2: Sea of Monsters
there is a lot this time.
this book is so short and it makes up for the length by being hilarious:
I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into if I were ever on the verge of death - plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp.
Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture. Chiron turned looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"
"Um..." I said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about it? Nobody answered. "Right," I muttered. "Just checking."
"Uh, I like Hercules." "Why?" "Well, because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."
Annabeth looked at me. "We have to get out of here." "You think I want to be in the girls' restroom?" "I mean the ship, Percy! We have to get off the ship."
Tyson was terrified of them. All throughout the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn't look too thrilled about.
"Then why do the gods even let me live? It would be safer to kill me." "You're right." "Thanks a lot."
A minute later, Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.
As Luke was raising his sword to rally his troops, a centaur shot a custom-made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked Luke in the face and sent him crashing into the swimming pool. and a few moments later: He [Luke] raised his sword, but got smacked in the face with another boxing glove arrow, and sat down hard in a deck chair. Luke can't catch a break from those boxing arrows, it's the funniest thing
2. also so much baby percabeth!! they’re so cute
She'd [Annabeth] emailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself she was real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been in my imagination. the fact that he printed out Annabeth's photo?
Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat, "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend." her standing up for Percy is adorable
I mean she [Annabeth] looked good. Really good. I probably would've been tongue-tied if I could say anything except reet, reet, reet.
She [Annabeth] started to sob - I mean horrible, heartbroken sobbing. She put her head on my shoulder and I held her. Fish gathered to look at us - a school of barracudas, some curious marlins. Scram! I told them. They swam off, but I could tell they went reluctantly. I swear I understood their intentions. They were about to start rumours flying around the sea about the son of Poseidon and some girl at the bottom of Siren Bay. number 1. the way percy is always there for her, number 2. the gossiping fish?? I love it
The look in his [Grover] eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Annabeth had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened -he’s admirably protective, of not just annabeth, but all his friends and I love to see it… exhibit b:
"But if I [Grover] get in trouble again, you'll be in danger, Percy! You could die!" "If you get in trouble again, I want to know about it. And I'll come help you again G-man. I wouldn't have it any other way." I adore their friendship.
3. other mentions:
"I'm Thalia," the girl said. "Daughter of Zeus." what. an. ending. I still remember how floored I was when I first read this wow
the mention of Hylla got me so excited
am I the only one who forgot Percy could control the sailboat? like the flying ropes and whatnot
I also completely forgot about his watch shield!
I'll be back for part 3 shortly! :)
#sea of monsters#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo#pjo series#rick riordan#percabeth#annabeth chase#grover underwood
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Group Hug
Corazón x Adoptive Parent!Reader
(ft. the younger versions of Law, Shachi, Penguin, & Bepo)
Masterlist
Summary: You and Rosi had pretty much adopted Law at this point. Taking care of one teenager was already a challenge, but could you take care of three more alongside your loving boyfriend?
Content Contains: 1 use of y/n, "M(x)" just means you can change it to Mr, Mrs, keep it as Mx, or whatever you want. SFW, fluff, gender neutral.
You still couldn’t believe the events that transpired only months ago and how lucky you were at this very moment. Somehow, you gained a loving boyfriend and several children in a short span of time. Granted, they weren’t your biological kids but you loved them as if they were. You were used to taking care of kids back when you, Rosi, and Law were part of Doffy’s crew, so it wasn’t as scary as it should’ve been. It was also a lot more enjoyable now that you didn’t have your partner’s evil brother breathing down your neck.
On top of that, you no longer had to fear losing either of them.
Law could’ve succumbed to his fatal disease if Rosinante hadn’t been successful in stealing the Op-Op fruit. Likewise, Doflamingo would’ve killed his own flesh and blood if you hadn’t been there to stop him. You never believed in miracles until now. It’s not a perfect situation by any means since the three of you had to go into hiding and now have the looming fear that Doffy or the Marines might find you three one day, but you didn’t care. It didn’t matter if you all had to live in a cave or wear ridiculous outfits to conceal your identities. What mattered was that they were still alive and that they were by your side.
After you were fortunate enough to escape the snowy Minion Island, you and your boys made it to its adjacent (and just as snowy) Swallow Island where you found an abandoned, rickety old house to live in. One day, Law brought two slightly older kids and a young polar bear to the house.
“Welcome back Law! You must be freezing and you’re just in time for dinner!” You look behind him to see three unfamiliar faces. “Oh, are those your new friends?”
“Um, yeah I guess. These two said they’re hungry,” he points to the two kids, “and this one said he’s looking for his brother,” he points to the bear child.
“Goodness, what happened to you poor things?” You inspect the boys and the furry little one to find them covered in scrapes and bruises.
“These two idiots were picking on him. His name is Bepo.” The young bear timidly waves at you. “They tried to do the same to me but I taught ‘em a lesson,” he says with a mischievous smirk. The older boys take a step back.
“As your parental figure, I know I should be telling you that violence is not the answer, but I suppose this is an exception.” You then turn to the two frightened kids. “What are your names?”
“I’m Penguin, and he’s Shachi.”
“Now, Penguin and Shachi, what were you doing beating up an innocent and cute little bear?” you scold them as you pet the top of Bepo’s head.
“Well, he’s a Mink and we’ve heard about how vicious they are,” explains Shachi.
“Yeah, we were scared,” agrees Penguin.
“Well, did he bear his claws and fangs at you?”
They shake their head.
“Or maybe he threatened to rip you to shreds?”
They shake their head yet again.
“Then what were you two knuckleheads so afraid of, huh?”
They look at each other and shrug. You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh.
“Listen, I know it’s easy to believe what other people say about those who look different than us. Especially if you believe they’re trying to keep you safe. Look, I’ll admit, I’ve never met a Mink before either, but I’m going to judge people by how they treat me, not by some baseless rumor some idiot made up. But let’s say that there really was even just one bad Mink out there in the world. That doesn’t mean that every single one is gonna be like that. Understood?”
“Yes, M(x).” They reply simultaneously.
“Good. Now, apologize to Bepo and I’ll fix ya up a plate.”
—------------
As you set up the table for dinner, Law tends to the others’ wounds. The four seem to be getting along now and you can’t help but feel happy that your boy has made some friends this soon. Back when you were a Donquixote Pirate, you knew Law talked to Buffalo and Baby 5 but that he never truly thought of them as friends. They were more like coworkers to him, plus he told you that he had the slightest feeling that they might rat him out to Doffy for stabbing Cora. Needless to say, everyone in that crew was always in survival mode and suspicious of each other, but here in your broken-down but cozy little home, there was no need to feel that way.
Once each of the hungry boys had a meal in front of them, you stepped out the back door to call your boyfriend in for dinner. He was working on building an extra bedroom for Law. “Rosi! Take a break will ya? Dinner’s ready and there’s some guests I’d like you to meet.”
“I’ll be right there, love. Just gotta finish up one more th-” He took a tumble before he could even finish his sentence, as per usual, and managed to break right through one of the walls he was working on. Even though this was a common occurrence, you always freaked out and ran towards him to make sure he was all right.
“Honey, are you okay?” You ask as you take out a rag from your apron. You fill it with snow, tie it up, and hand it to him to place on his head.
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got the most gorgeous person in the world to call my sweetheart.” He flashes his signature goofy smile.
“Shut up, you know I’m talking about your head, silly.” You smile back. “Looks like you’re finishing earlier than you planned. C’mon, let’s get you inside.”
Once the two of you were inside your house, you took his feathery coat off and set it on the couch. Rosi turns to look at a table full of hungry children eating like there’s no tomorrow. “Oh, did you make some new friends, Law?” he says with a grin beginning to grow on his face.
“Um, well, they’re technically not my friends, but I found them when I was playing outside. They said they were hungry so I thought I would help them out and-” Law is interrupted by a pair of large hands squishing his cheeks.
“Oh, Law! I’m so happy for you! You’re so nice for helping them out. I’m so proud of you!” Rosi bursts with excitement.
“Shtop it Co-wa yow embawassing me,” the poor boy tries to let out.
��Sorry, kid,” he apologizes with a big blush across his face.
“You call your dad by his name?” asks Penguin.
“Actually, that’s his nickname. Also he’s not my dad,” replies Law.
“Wait so then-” Shachi begins to ask.
“No, (Y/N) isn’t my parent either. They’re both like my guardians I guess but even then that’s misleading cause I can take care of myself. They saved my life so I stick around cause I owe them one. And at this point I’m keeping an eye on them more than they need to on me,” explains Law as Rosi’s cigarette somehow lights his shirt on fire and you run to stop a boiling pot from spilling any more soup on the stove. “See? Case in point.”
As soon as you turn off the stove, you help Rosinante put out the fire on his shoulders. It’s a situation you know all too well so you’ve gotten super fast at clearing it up quickly to the point where there’s surprisingly no damage to his clothes, skin, or hair. You both turn to the young boys and apologize while smiling sheepishly.
After you clean up the stove, you begin to serve your boyfriend his soup. He thanks you and reaches down to give you a quick peck on your lips before sitting down at the dinner table. As you’re serving yourself your own food, you can’t help but still feel bad for Law.
Neither you nor Rosi ever pressured him to think of you two as his parents. The both of you knew that you could never replace them since if it wasn’t for the damned World Government, they would still be here. That’s also part of the reason Rosi didn’t return to the Marines. He couldn’t do so anyway because he technically committed treason but the bigger reason was because he found out about how they were ordered to massacre Law’s hometown of Flevance. The big, gentle goofball with the biggest heart in the world couldn’t bear to be associated with such monsters anymore.
Yet, you couldn’t help but hope that one day, he would think of you and Rosi as second parents. You wanted Law to know that he would always have a home in the two of you. That he would never have to worry about being alone or worry about not having anyone to protect him if he needed to. You would wait as long as you needed to for that of course, and in the meantime, all you could do was give him the love that he deserved.
—--------
“Well, that definitely beats the stale bread we dig out of the dumpster behind the bakery,” exclaims Penguin while patting his tummy.
“Hell, yeah! Man, I’m stuffed,” Shachi agrees.
Bepo catches your attention to give his thanks. “I had eaten the last of my food for my trip so I thought I was going to have to resort to stealing some food. I really appreciate it M(x)... uh…”
“Corazon. You can call me M(x). Corazon. It’s the nickname his stupid brother gave him but we can’t use his real last name or mine because it could attract unwanted attention. It’s a pretty long story,” you explain.
Rosi chimes in to attempt to change the subject. “So, I know Bepo is here on his own, but what about you boys? Do you have parents? Or a home?”
They look at each other and then lower their heads in shame. “No,” they say simultaneously.
You and Rosi make eye contact. “Would you give us a second? We’ll be right back.” He reaches for your hand and you get up. You follow him to your shared room. He uses his calm-calm fruit powers to put a silent barrier around you in case the boys decided to eavesdrop.
“You’re thinking about taking them in, too, right?” you ask.
Rosi nods, “Yeah, but only if you and Law are on board with it.”
“Why wouldn’t I be on board. I’d hate to just leave them on their own. Granted we need to ask them if they even want to stay with us and check if Law is comfortable with it. And knowing you, even if it doesn’t work out, I know you’ll do whatever it takes to find them a nice home.” You stand on the ginormous bed the two of you share to make up for the height difference. “That’s what I love about you so much. You’re always so kind and caring, mi corazón.” You wrap your arms around his neck and look up at him. “But I’m scared. If Law is okay with it and they allow us to take care of them, what if I mess up? Taking care of one teenager is enjoyable but hard enough, what if I can’t handle three more?” You press your face against his chest and he holds his arms around your waist.
“It’ll be okay, darling. I’ll be right beside you every step of the way. You’re always there for my clumsy ass; you know I’ll always be there for you no matter what. Besides, you’re such a great “kind-of” parent to Law, and I know you’ll do great with these new kiddos. Just promise me that you won’t forget that you’re not alone because we’re in this together.” He gives you a gentle kiss on your lips. What did you do to deserve such an amazing boyfriend? At the same time, Rosinante wonders what he did to deserve you.
“Do you think that we should tell them first about who we were?” You look up at Rosi again.
“I think it’s for the best. They can decide if they want to stay with us.”
Before you could return to the boys, your boyfriend took another fall, taking you with him. After making sure you were okay, Rosi places a kiss on your forehead and helps you up. You both giggle for a bit and step out of the room.
You proceed to tell them about how you used to be part of the Donquixote pirates and what made you leave. You didn’t tell them about how Doflamingo and Rosi used to be celestial dragons because you didn’t want them to freak out. Eventually, you would tell them if they decided to stay.
“Damn, Trafalgar. We respected you the minute you gave us a well-deserved beating but now our respect for you is through the roof.” Shachi playfully smacks Law’s back (who was unsurprisingly not pleased about it).
“Yeah, and you’re parents are pretty cool too. I’d like to be part of a pirate crew one day, but not an evil one, of course” Penguin adds while giving Law another unwanted playful slap on the back.
“Glad you all are still here, otherwise I wouldn’t have found out these two were actually cool,” Bepo signals over to Penguin and Shachi, “and I would’ve never been able to rest in such a cozy home. Thanks again!”
“I’m glad we’re still here, too, and that we were able to help you guys. And don’t mention it.” Your nervousness goes away after hearing how cool they think you, Rosi, and Law are. Rosi looks at you and both of you silently agree for him to ask the next question.
“So, Penguin, Shachi, and Bepo… would you like to stay here with us?”
“Like permanently?!” the three boys exclaim in unison.
“Of course! Law, how would you feel about that?” he asks Law.
Reluctantly, Law agrees with a “yeah, whatever”. You knew that he wasn’t all too bothered though because Bepo went over to hug Law which caused him to have a little smile on his face.
It didn’t last long, however, because Shachi yelled “GROUP HUG!!!” and tackled them to the ground. Penguin grabs yours and Rosi’s hand, leading you to the pile of boys. With an angry Law in the middle, all six of you were now cuddled in the first group hug every single one of you ever had in your life; the first of many group hugs together as a family :)
I was going to have my "Masquerading Hearts" series lead to this but I just couldn't wait. Also, please let me know if you want more fanfics of this little family life, and thanks for reading!
#one piece#corazon one piece#donquixote rosinante#donquixote rocinante#donquixote rosinante x reader#corazon x reader#one piece x reader
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masterlist | the music
19.7k words | Sorry freaks, no smut this chapter - but the series is 18+ and so is my blog so skedaddle on out of here if you're not!
A/N: I have a really long one here - so I'll just say thank you once again and that I love you. Also, another special thank you to @sweetsweetjellybean and @loveshotzz💛💛
chapter warnings: very brief mention of religion (but not reader participating or believing in one in particular) | small mention/description of reader's maternal death and cancer symptoms | teeny tiny spoiler for the ending to the movie 'when harry met sally' | use of dialogue from the movie 'My Best Friends Wedding'
Why do we want to believe in things like fate or destiny - divine intervention? Why do some put their faith in religions with blind following? Why do we look to the stars in moments of despair, when we’re desperate for hope, when we’re lost?
We seek out answers from something we can’t see but we want to believe in. Whether it’s a fortune cookie in your take out, a penny head’s up on the sidewalk, a community of like minded souls coming together for prayer or worship, or a horoscope you read on your morning Instagram scroll - the reasons have to be the same for choosing to believe, for the hope that starts to rise in you for the promise these things try to offer.
We look for solutions to problems. We need reason. We need purpose. We need to feel like we’re not alone. We need confirmation that it’s all gonna work out even though nothing can really guarantee that.
When you look up at the stars that work hard to shine through clouds and a full moon, your chest rises with air trying to fill your lungs and you wonder if they’re up there. Your eyes blink up at that indigo sky, searching. Steve sits next to you and Leigh waves, whispering their hellos. His hand rests next to yours on the plaid blanket, he clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. It’s all too stiff, too on edge, and you hate it. That attempted deep breath is unsuccessful, lungs deflating as it catches in your throat, and your thoughts wander back to the stars again. They wander to him, and them, and seek answers.
What if they are up there, watching, like it’s one of those movies your mom was always putting on and your dad and you boo’d at from your spot playing cards. When he walked in with her with that on her finger, your mom would have gasped, she would have paused the movie, she would have yelled at you and your dad about the plot. She would have thrown popcorn at the TV and declared there’s something going on, he couldn’t, no way - there was no way. She’d have calmed herself down, rationalized there was still time left, gone to the pantry for more chocolate, kissed the top of your head and your dad’s cheek as she passed. By the end of the film, her prediction would have been right, she’d be crying and sighing at the couple who got their happy ending.
So could Steve declare his feelings for you here in a dramatic scene? Tell you it was all a big misunderstanding - that he’s sorry, that it was a rocky road but being together is worth fighting for? Could you leave here, hand in hand, as a top forty song plays and the credits roll?
Of course not.
Because this isn’t a rom com your mom would have loved. Life is not a movie full of soul-mates and cosmic connections. People like your parents are the exception to the rule. The couples who make it work - the ones who don’t let the trials of life take their love away like Allie and Noah, Kate and Sam, or Westley and Buttercup, are fictional characters. They’re stories to escape into when the despairing reality of yours is too much to read or write anymore. It’s exactly why you don’t like most movies or stories like theirs. Because eventually, the movies end, the credits do roll, and you have to face real life once again. Love like that doesn’t exist off the big screen, and you’re just kidding yourself when you fall into their traps.
Knowing this simple fact of reality doesn’t stop the hope though.
That painful, aching hope that clings to your skin like honey when you can feel the heat from his arm even through the sleeve of your sweater - like your bodies burn hotter when closer together - too close to the sun. It feeds the hope that your brain tries to squash away but your heart thuds harder for. The what if, what if, what if replacing each beat of it. Hope that makes you want to cry out ‘please let this just be a bad dream’ to the universe. Hope that tries, but can’t escape the gnawing pit in your stomach that’s growing wider, threatening to swallow you whole. Hope that makes you wonder why this can’t be a story - why can’t you just be the grandson, yelling at his grandfather that he can’t be telling it properly? Someone is getting the story wrong. He can’t be marrying her, you’re just sure of it. Screaming at him, at someone, to please, just get it right.
You wonder if someone were watching, would they be feeling the despair you are? Is this the moment? That scene in the movies is always the gut punch - for the audience and the character. It’s meant to hurt, make you hold your breath. Made to be dramatic - yell at the screen, break your heart, make the character in the action get back up and fight. They’re moments made to ignite that hope - but really, it’s the double tap - coming right after the feeling catches flame, that’s made to shatter you completely.
The moment that extinguishes the what if for all it’s worth. When the audience’s heart's already breaking for the grandson, only for the grandfather to ask who says life is fair? Where is that written? When the knife is entering your chest, but the mask falls and the killer turns out to be someone you thought you could trust. When you’re untethered in space only for your last moment of consciousness to be watching a friend cut the cord. The person who sucker punched you is now kicking you when you’re weak, taking it one step too far, leaving you crumpled on the mat. It’s all enough to make that fight, that urge to be angry instead of scared or hurt, disappear. It’s enough to knock you down so hard, you can’t possibly get back up - the hope is extinguished, and the story seemingly over.
Robin squeals quietly, pulling Leigh’s hand across you to admire the ring, knocking Steve on the shoulder and saying something about the Dingus doing good. Your gaze flits down to the brown sugar and apple donuts in your lap, convinced you’re about to get sick right on top of them. Not because he’s marrying her, but because instead of being angry with him, you feel like you’ve been squashed, you’re hurt, you’re betrayed. Despite your better judgment, despite the past several years, you’ve let a man make you some pathetic, sad, heartbroken, and weak version of yourself.
When Leigh’s hand retreats from Robin’s, lifting and curling a piece of hair behind her ear, diamond sparkling in the moonlight as she smiles over at Steve, your story’s end is written, and you need to accept it if you ever want some semblance of normalcy to return. You can’t lose him and them. But when Steve’s pinky brushes yours and you look over, his eyes resemble the broken beer bottle from the football game all those weeks ago. Shattered emerald and amber, cutting you to shreds with each shard of glass as he murmurs, “Can I tal-“
“I’ll be right back!” You whisper-shout, cutting him off and squeezing Robin’s shoulder as you get up.
She yanks on your wrist, halting your attempt at an exit. Her eyes narrow as she interrogates, “Where are you going?”
Swallowing harshly as her blue eyes peer directly into your soul. She can probably smell the desire to run on you. Remembering your vow that Steve won’t take them away from you, a not quite a lie falls from your lips as you gesture to the concession food trucks, “You don’t have those cinnamon roasted almonds. They were my mom’s favorite and the smell is driving me crazy. Promise that’s all.”
“I swear to god, if you don’t come back, I will literally come stand outside your window on the sidewalk and scream-sing Monster Mash until someone calls the cops and I’ll drag you down with me.”
Her eyes blink, features incredibly serious despite the amusing threat. Your laugh mixes with Leigh’s and you ignore the shared moment, tugging your wrist free. “Would expect nothing less Robin.”
She motions she’s watching you, fingers to her eyes then yours, lips twitching in the corners before she turns back to the screen.
Your feet feel heavy as they drag through the damp grass, and come to a stop to wait in line. It shouldn’t be a surprise after ordering when you hear his voice behind you. It floats through the air, soft, barely audible over the popping kettle corn, “I really didn’t know you’d be here. I wouldn’t have…” he sighs, settling on restating, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Your shoulders fall and your eyes stay focused on the truck. You’ve had time, since that night on the sidewalk, but your hurt still sits fresh under your layer of armor - tender like an open wound you need to keep protected. Your palms slide further under the sleeves of your sweater, clinging to the garment like the shield you’re willing it to be - you don’t want to fight with him anymore, no matter how hurt and angry you are.
So the tone you respond with aches to sound indifferent, if not a tad harsh, reminding him you’re mad and pretending there isn’t any spark of hope within you still. It’s over, it has to be over, and all it ever was to him was something to kill time - fun and no strings exactly what you wanted. So your words are really just a reminder to yourself, another layer of the wall you need to keep up around him, “It’s fine Steve. Would have been nice to get a head’s up,” your shoulders shrug, “But, well, that’s probably too generous for the girl you were just fucking while waiting for the one, right?”
The people next to you clear their throats and you can’t find it in yourself to care, to be embarrassed.
Steve moves in front of you, his face filling your vision. He shaved - no more scruff you like. His jeans are dark again, with fresh, new creases, and a light blue sweater pulls across his chest and shoulders. He’s picture perfect, his polished uniform in place.
He shakes his head, eyes bouncing between yours as he asks, “Is that really all it was?”
Your shoulders shrug again, because it’s easier. It’s easier to try to deny, to ignore the flutter the question causes in your stomach. Easier to bite back the words that try to form on your tongue. Because of course that’s not all it was, at least not to you. You wouldn’t feel the way you do right now if that were true. But what’s the point in telling him that though? What happens? Can you forgive each other for the words said, that, no matter how true, can’t be taken back? Things like this only end in heartbreak - because what happens if you tell him how you were starting to feel - does that change anything for him? And even if it did, that means a broken engagement, it means complicated truths coming out, it means attempts at forgiveness. And even after all of that, life won’t give you a guarantee. There is no promise of zero fights, of nothing bad ever happening. There is no happily ever after where the possibility of a break up, of losing everyone you’ve grown to care for deeply, doesn’t exist.
So yes, it’s easier to not say any of that, because you know. This isn’t how life works. This isn’t a movie. No one is immune to life’s misfortunes. These sorts of open-ended questions and complicated emotions that come from his simple ask are unmeasurable and unreliable. Wondering and giving into those feelings only open you up to be used as a target for someone else’s shooting practice. You’ve known this, but you allowed yourself to forget, hating it was Steve who had to remind you.
Which is why you look away from his eyes as you say, “I believe that is what was established a few weeks ago at that party Steve. You were there, remember? You were dressed as a pirate.”
His head drops, hands running through his perfectly styled hair as he laughs, breath shaky, like the laugh is covering up any feeling in his voice. “So, that’s it? We’re just gonna act like none of it happened? You don’t wanna talk. You run away every time we get a chance to do so, a beer in my face and-“
Your hand rising in the air cuts him off, his mouth clamps shut as you make eye contact with him. “You deserved that and I’m not apologizing for it.”
He takes a step closer to you, his hand reaching towards you, then back into his hair, second guessing himself. “I’m not asking you to, and I’m not apologizing for what I said either.” Steve swallows, hands on his hips as he looks at the ground then back up at you, “What I said wasn’t a lie.”
He breathes out the next words, both of you staring at each other with the weight of what he says hanging in the air between you.
“You couldn’t tell me.”
Your hands shake from the confrontation, from his request you left unanswered that night. The emotions that still want to bubble over, the time apart did nothing to cool either of you down. That what if, what if, what if that replaced your heartbeat grows louder, but your brain only shuts it down harder. If you hurt now, how will it feel if you keep feeding the flame only for him to extinguish it again?
The beat of your heart and those hopeful words thud in your ears as your head shakes and your voice tries not to, barely audible as the words leave your lips, “I don’t want to do this anymore Steve. We’re just going in circles. You’re getting married. You didn’t tell me. Can you look me in the eye and tell me you were really my friend while you were clearly getting engaged this whole time?”
Blue light flashes from the screen, catching the corner of your eye and illuminating his, their gaze bouncing over your face. Your bodies move closer like they can’t help it, like they know they won’t be this way again. Steve’s tongue darts over his bottom lip before his breath blows out, your name a whisper on it. The way he says your name with that look in his eyes, chests almost touching, it’s easy for your head to tilt with familiarity. Your breath out is his breath in, and it’s even easier to forget the last time you were this close. Sounds other than his harsh swallow and your heartbeat fade away. Time freezes, just a little, and the air pulses with a tangible possibility of hope.
A shrill classic horror movie scream shatters the bubble. Your name is called, you blink, and take a step away. Guilt washes over you as you see your friends staring intently at the movie you’d practically forgotten you were there for. Leigh and Robin talk quietly and your eyelids flutter as you will whatever wants to escape down your cheeks away.
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore Steve. I just want to go hang out with my friends. I need this to be over. Can it please be over?” You stare intently at the ground, one single tear slipping past your lashes. It feels like it rolls down your cheek for an hour before Steve finally answers.
“Okay,” he quietly agrees.
Your head nods once and you brush past him, barely choking out a whispered ‘by the way congratulations’ as you grab your snack. Hand swiping at the stray tear as you make your way back to the blanket slowly.
When you sit back down, Leigh’s typing on her phone. She squeezes Robin’s hand before whispering a goodbye to everyone. She jogs over to Steve, cocking her head at him. He pushes his hands through his hair again, giving her a short smile. He runs his thumb and forefinger down the bridge of his nose, swiping under it with the back of his hand. His other extends towards her as she reaches him, fingers lacing together as they walk out.
Robin’s shoulder nudges yours and your head turns to find her with eyebrows pinched together. She leans in and quietly asks, “Is he okay? Did he say something about leaving to you?”
Your head shakes, and you extend the bag to her with a tight smile. You will just keep lying to her. Steve and you will move on, and maybe, one day in the distant future, you’ll be able to tell her. It’ll all work out.
She mirrors your sad smile, the wrinkles in her forehead deepening as she takes a small handful and turns her attention back to the movie. Or she tries, but you watch as her eyes glance down to her phone every few minutes, until it lights up with his name and she quickly starts typing a response.
It’ll all be fine.
“Said ‘I’m fine’ but it wasn’t true. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you…”
The pop song playing overhead makes your teeth grind, your skin itch, it pries at your armor. It clangs its melody like fists on the metal plates around your heart, screaming to let it in.
Fuck Taylor Swift and her poetically relevant lyrics.
You’re fine.
“Mommy, why is that lady wearing pajamas?”
“Well, sometimes people, um, well maybe they’re sad or-“
“Not sad,” you call over your shoulder, but spin as you decide to face the stranger. The poor, unsuspecting stranger who is unprepared for the wrath of a person wearing blue, fuzzy pajama bottoms with ducks all over them, yellow smiley slippers, and holding several pints of Cherry Garcia in her arms. “Could just be sick. Or lazy. Could be a lot of different things, but sad is not one of them, and it’s rude to assume there’s any reason at all. I could just have wanted to stay comfy today, you don’t know!”
It’s almost laughable, if it wasn’t so humiliating or awkward. A practically audible record scratch kind of moment. Conversations of several other customers quiet then stop altogether. Eyes blink at you in concern and pity under too harsh of fluorescent lights, surrounded by neon advertisements and packaging trying to convince you the world isn’t shit as long as there’s junk food. The poppy beat overhead seems to play even louder, yet a pin could drop and people from another state would hear it.
The mother’s hand runs through the small child’s hair next to them as she stammers an apology, “I really…I’m sorry, I just-“
“No, no, I’m so sorry. It’s fine…I…” You close your eyes and turn back around, mortified beyond a depth you ever thought possible. The pints of ice cream tumble onto the sticky counter-top, lottery tickets beneath it staring up at you and mocking ‘hey wanna test your luck even more?’. Your hand flies up into the face of the cashier as you grumble, “Not a word, Keith.”
The employee you’ve come to know on your late night and early morning snack runs snorts. His mouth closes, slurping his Mountain Dew through a straw as he rings up the ice cream. His lips leave the red plastic, squeaking it against the lid harshly, about to tell you the price you already know, when a bottle of wine is placed on the counter with a low thunk. A leather clad arm extends across your vision, a second bottle landing beside it. A deep and familiar voice from behind your shoulder calls out, “These too. But definitely not because she’s sad.”
Turning, you find Eddie just as you knew you would, his brown eyes the same as they have been since you met. Full of warmth that’s contagious, except now something darkens them, they’re colder. Reminiscent of how they looked in a bathroom that feels like you were in it ten years ago instead of a month. They’re kind, but they’re hurt, confused, and most importantly - disappointed.
“Right,” you clear your throat and look away from them. Embarrassed, but adamant in your denial of the purchase and your appearance having any connotation with the emotion they all think you’re feeling. “These are not sad items.”
Despite the look in his eyes, Eddie’s lips twitch in a fight of a smile. He looks over your outfit and the hint of amusement disappears. His mouth turns down in a grimace. He faces Keith, hand waving across your form, “Right. Sad people don’t wear duckie pj’s to the store to buy ice cream and wine, they just don’t. People who ignore their friends though, they might…”
Honestly, the call out is nicer than what you deserve. You hadn’t dared to miss a text or call from Robin again, but all other group contact had gone unreciprocated for two weeks - convincing yourself it was easier for everyone that way. Biting the inside of your cheek, your eyes blink up at him apologetically, hopeful you can fix a small part of the mess you’ve made still. “Yeah. But if a person,” your hands wave as you speak, “Who isn’t sad,” you quickly tack on before continuing, “Did ignore their friends, it was probably for a good reason and she probably feels really bad about it and-“
“Jesus Christ, pay for your sad shit and get out,” Keith groans, snapping his fingers and then waggling them for payment.
Eddie mashes his lips together, a genuine smile threatening to break as he hands over a bill. He salutes as he grabs the bag of items. “Keep the change, dude.”
“See you tomorrow, new shipment of Ben and Jerry’s at nine A.M!” Keith calls to your retreating forms. Eddie and you turn in tandem, flipping him off.
“Mommy, what did that mean?”
Eddie snorts, his laugh finally bubbling out of him as you hide your eyes under one of your hands. The door swings closed behind you as the brisk November air does little to cool off your embarrassment.
His laughter trails off in a sigh and yours in a groan. When you peek at him from behind your fingers, you hold your breath as they fall to your side. Eddie’s eyes seem to poke and prod at you with their gaze, like you’re a frog laying open on a table for dissection. Like he already knows what he’s about to find, but he’s giving you an opportunity to just say it before he makes the first cut.
Gesturing towards the bag in his hand, your eyes drop to the ground as you clear your throat. “Thank you, you didn’t have to pay. And I really am sorry for going radio silent. I’ll get better at that.”
When he doesn’t respond right away, you risk a glance up. His brows are furrowed, meeting under parted bangs, brown eyes glued to your pajama pants. Eddie nods slowly, tucking his tongue into his cheek before clicking it against the roof of his mouth. Rocking back on his heels, the plastic bag swings at his side. “Sure. What are friends for?”
His eyes meet yours again finally, and as your lips part, he keeps going, his voice a little crisper than it’s been to you before. “Cause, we are friends. Right?”
Head nodding as your brows bunch together from the tone delivering the question. That and his gaze makes something under your skin itch, your feet restless against the pavement like a horse before a race.
Hesitation heavy in your words as you respond, “Yeah, of course…listen, I have to get back but-“
“Great,” he spins on his heel, heading down the sidewalk like he was waiting for those exact words to leave your mouth, “I’ll walk with you, sad girl.”
Blinking at his abrupt interruption, hand still raised to take the bag from him, it takes you several seconds for his words to register. He’s already halfway to the corner, your apartment just around it and you have to take a quick few jogs to catch up with his long strides as you call out, “I’m not sad.”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie nods, flicking a zippo in his hand, converse scuffing against the sidewalk as he kicks a pebble, “And I’m the King of England.”
Tired of his tone and demeanor you didn’t invite or ask for - you don’t need this. Eyes rolling as you huff past him, your shoulder bumping his harshly as you do. Eddie scoffs, but falls back into step close behind you, not letting you get away. “Quite the attitude to have with the friend who just bought your sad girl treat, even threw in the wine.”
Your shoulders hunch at his words, eyebrows pulling together and face growing hot as you fiddle with the first key to the apartment building. “Well, I didn’t ask you to buy it and if you only did to just rub it in my face you’re not really my friend. And I didn’t ask you to come here.”
Eddie’s hand lands on the door above your shoulder as you push it open, arm blocking you from entering. “Quit the tough girl act, you’re not fooling anyone.”
Your skin burns at his accusation, hands balling into fists at your sides. “I’m not trying to fool anyone, Eddie, or do anything. I literally don’t know what you’re talk-“
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, you can keep trying to sell this shit to everyone else, but I’m not buying.” He points inside, “Let’s go.”
Face feeling hotter than when you were six and scolded in public, you stomp through the entryway, each step echoing across the old tile. As you turn to head up the stairs, if only to get away from his all seeing eyes, the realization of what your apartment looks like and how extremely not ready it is for guests has you pausing mid stride.
When your gaze makes contact with his again, Eddie simply makes a statement. Flat, disappointed, and no question in his tone, “It’s worse than I think isn’t it.”
Before you can argue, before you can tell him to leave, the keys in your hand are snatched by swift fingers, and Eddie’s long legs are jumping up the stairs, skipping over several steps and disappearing around the landing. Chasing after him, the thundering of both of your feet is dulled by the faded and dingy carpet and the shriek of his name leaving your lips.
Watching as he pushes the key into the lock, turning the knob, you sprint down the hallway. Your body barrels into his, but it’s too late. Eddie falters from your weight crashing into him, but he remains upright, although slightly hunched, as your body clings to his, trying to drag him down. The door swings open and he winces, and you drop to the ground, defeated.
For the first time in a few days, you take in the state of your living space from an outside perspective. You watch as Eddie reviews it all for the first time - the take out on your counter, the empty beer bottles pushing the lid of the recycling up. The stack of Double O Seven DVDs on the coffee table. The couch covered in blankets because you’ve been sleeping there, your bed still sitting free of sheets in the other room. The bag of chips and the tub of frosting. It’s not a pretty picture.
Eddie suddenly crouches, hands grabbing at you and you push him away shrieking, crawling into your apartment and away from him. Both of you swat at each other, hair flying in faces and grunting like you’re siblings fighting over the remote.
“Go-get off! What the hell is your problem! Eddie!”
He manages to grab your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and you leap towards him, arms over his shoulders, you reach for the phone, and he holds himself up on his knees, arm extending it away from you. He manages to tilt it just right to get your face to unlock it and you growl, thumping on his bicep as he shoves you off. He presses the familiar green icon on your home screen while you accuse, “What is your deal? What the fuck are you-“
Eddie groans, holding up the screen displaying the last song you’d been listening to and getting to his feet. He points towards your bedroom. “Go put on some jeans. No more sad girl music. No more cheese out of the can. Field trip. Let’s go.”
Your hand holding a slipper that had fallen off in the scuffle points towards the open door, any neighbors paying attention getting a hell of a show. Your scowl meets his frown. “Um, you can go. Don’t basically break into my home and insult Britney and Easy Cheese in the same sentence asshole. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Eddie raises his eyebrows, they disappear under his bangs and he looks at you as if you’re the child you’re determined to act like. He sighs, voice dripping in drama as he heads into your kitchen, “I really didn’t want to do this, but you’ve left me with no other choice.” He spins the cheap metal cap off of one of the bottles of wine theatrically, flicking the cap onto the counter before turning the bottle upside down as he stares at you. “I’d get going. The ice cream is next.”
Your eyes roll as you scoff, “You’re not gonna do shit to the Ben and Jerry’s, you and I both know it.”
He starts on the second bottle, both ringed hands holding tight to each, red liquid splashing the sides of the sink. “I will literally drag you back out of here in your sad girl jammies to a very public place. I’m generously giving you the opportunity to avoid that embarrassment, but if you insist…”
Eddie sets the bottles down in the sink, stepping over to you in two strides, hands on your waist as he moves like he could toss you over his shoulder.
Your hands push at his chest. “Fucking fine! Give me a few minutes.” You start towards your room but spin sharply on your socked heel, one foot still in a slipper that skids as your finger points in his face. “Touch my ice cream and see what happens.”
He snorts, crossing his arms. “Big, tough words coming from a girl with chocolate frosting on her chest and ducks on her ass.”
You turn away from him, slamming the door on his call of, “If you ever want to see your precious Ben and Jerry’s again, you’ll be back out here in five minutes!”
When you make eye contact with the chocolate stain in the mirror, you have to suppress your groan.
Eddie’s Jeep tires crunch over gravel before coming to a stop in a homemade parking lot. Tan dust kicked up and floating through the air partially obscures where he’s taken you.
The entire twenty minute drive had been enveloped in stilted silence. He had managed to dump one of the pints while you changed, claiming to have thought you weren’t coming back out, and now he was on the receiving end of one of your finest silent treatments. His hand flexes on the gear, moving the car into park. As his jaw clenches while yanking the keys out of the ignition, you start to rethink your silence. There’s a part of you that wants, maybe needs, to run back to your apartment, lock the door, and never speak to him again. But there’s another part, far larger, and riddled with guilt, that made you follow him.
Staring out the window at the dilapidated bar, your voice feels scratchy from the lack of talking as you push out, “What are we doing-” Eddie’s driver’s door slams, and the end of your question falls into the empty car, flat, as you blink at his back walking away from you, “Here.”
As Eddie makes his way to the building, you hoist yourself out of the Jeep and begin to follow despite the cold shoulder. You’re willing to appease him and participate in whatever this field trip is if it means you can somehow get the apology you definitely owe him out - try to make things right for the mess you’ve pulled him into.
A faint and familiar sound echoes in the quiet and practically empty parking lot. The distinct whip of a ball and the ting and harsh smack of metal meeting it, mix with the crunch of rocks under your rubber soles. Behind the tired and washed out brick building, chain link fencing rises, hinting further to what the sounds are and where they’re coming from. The large red letters above the doorway spell out “Murray’s” in distinct vintage lettering, hollowed out with unlit bulbs reminiscent of an old theater’s marquee lights. You pause beneath the sign, stealing a deep breath because something tells you Eddie has officially pinned you to the table, and the first inevitable cut of the dissection is imminent. Your fingers curl around the gray, metal door’s industrial handle and pull, and you step inside.
Billie Holiday’s voice croons from somewhere deeper in the building. Voice and music crackling and staticky, like it’s playing off a real vinyl. The urge to find out why Eddie’s brought you to a place seemingly stuck in the past draws you deeper down the dimly lit hallway. Rich, red paint on the walls partially covered by framed photographs line the entire space. Black and white film prints of American icons, with individual golden lamps lighting up each from their spots attached to the frames. Your feet carry you past Elvis, Jackie Robinson, then Marilyn, and Michael Jackson before you enter a spacious and circular room.
Red vinyl booths line the curve on one side, small round tables meant for two lit by glowing lamps scattered across the floor. A stage and space for what appears to be a dancefloor sit opposite of you, nestled between the booths and a bar running across the opposite curve. Speckled and worn mirrors behind the bar reflect the wide range of liquor bottles and the different glassware in a variety of shapes and colors, clearly thrifted antiques, hanging above them. Eddie leans against the bar talking to an older man, neither of whom spare a glance in your direction.
This room’s photographs on the walls are covers of Life and Time, clippings from other renowned news outlets - all famous headlines like when man went to the moon and the JFK assassination, the Cubs winning the world series, spanning all the way to current events. As you spin, you see the vintage photo booth, much older than the one you and Steve took photographs in at Replay, and you push the memory away, focusing on the bulletin board next to it instead.
The flier for Corroded Coffin has your attention as the song crackles on it’s end notes, the next from the album playing softly. Billie’s voice sings the familiar lyrics of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ and your heart drops into your stomach, palms sweating profusely. Why the hell are you here? Why this song? Why, why, why.
“Ouch. Who broke your heart?”
The unfamiliar voice asks the same question Eddie had asked you back in September, and this time you’re even more unprepared for it. Your head whips to the side, gaze looking over your shoulders that hunch. Your body turns to face them head on, but your arms cross in defense. The man Eddie had been chatting with now has his focus solely on you. Wire rimmed glasses frame eyes that stare intently at you as he wipes down a glass. His balding head of hair and the confidence he carries, along with the way he tosses the rag over his shoulder before leaning on the bar, has you feeling like you’ve suddenly entered a sitcom.
Eddie continues to ignore you, one foot resting on the metal of stool as his ringed fingers crack peanuts. He avoids your gaze as you turn your frown on the man who seemed to have read your mind. You keep your voice as neutral as you can when you ask, “Excuse me?”
“Written all over your face, kid.” The nameless man, but you have a hunch the name of the establishment and him are one in the same, winces with his words. He pulls down three amber colored, short glasses, then a bottle of vodka. Before you can argue, he keeps going as he pours, “Well, maybe you’re not in love. Not yet anyway,” he muses to himself, “Or maybe he is and you don’t know how to let the poor sap down?”
His eyes lift from the glasses of alcohol to yours and he squints. Pausing before pouring the third glass, humming, “Wait, no, well…maybe.” Keeping his eyes on you as he tips back one of the generous shots before he breathes out with finality, “No.”
Eddie smirks into his own shot, as the man snaps in his face, but technically commands, “Name.”
Your mouth opens to stop this nonsense and analysis you absolutely didn’t ask for, but Eddie beats you to it. Eyebrows raised, mouth pursed as he offers up, “Steve.”
The man behind the bar hovers the liquor bottle above the now empty glass, blinking wide behind his frames. He sets the bottle down, pressing his palms to the bar top. Scoffing with an incredulous tone, “You’re kidding.”
“Excuse me!” You try to interrupt, but the man shakes his hands, ignoring your objection.
“We’ll deal with that little slip in the simulation some other time,” pushing the third glass down the bar towards you as he continues, “So, Steve,” he laughs a little, licking his bottom lip, “Right. So he loves us, maybe, but perhaps it is us who loves Steve? Mm, tragic, because he doesn’t reciprocate? Or are we too scared to tell him how we feel?”
Your shoulders are up to your ears now, arms wrapping around yourself even tighter, trying to make whatever see-through, vulnerable shield this man can penetrate more resilient. Your gaze is harsh on the side of Eddie’s face, death stare glaring and attempting to burn his cheek with only your eyes as you ask again, “What are we doing here?”
“The cosmic question, isn’t it?” The bartender muses, pouring another glass for himself. He raises his eyebrows at Eddie in a silent question who shakes his head no.
“I’m leaving.” You start to turn towards the door, but Eddie’s call behind you makes you freeze.
“Have fun walking back then!”
Your hands go to your pockets, searching, even though you know they’re empty. When you look at him, you see your phone in his fingers and his brown eyes that have turned to stone. “Yeah, I still have this. So either you can participate in the field trip, or you can walk all the way back home to your sad girl cave.”
“I’ll just have him call me a cab.” Gesturing to the nameless man with your solution.
“Murray,” he offers with a toothy grin and head nod, confirming your assumption.
Eddie laughs, cold, tossing a peanut shell on the bar, “Yeah? And pay for it how?”
You’ve been very, very, dumb, because it’s only now you realize the empty pockets would also mean you don’t have your wallet. Your eyes close in defeat.
When you open them, Eddie is staring at you and it feels an awful lot like that scalpel is resting just over your heart, waiting for any final words.
He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he says, “I’ll take those quarters now.”
Murray rolls a tube across the bar to him, eyes darting back and forth between you two like he is watching a ping pong match.
Eddie grabs the roll, storming past you and down a different hallway, out the back door of the bar. The chipping black paint flutters as the door swings closed, a slam as it meets the frame making you flinch. The final notes of ‘I’ll Be Seeing You’ finish and you release a shaky breath.
“And I suppose I’m to follow him and his mysterious quarters?”
Murray’s lips twitch and he raises his hands in surrender. Your sigh and step towards the door has him dropping his hands though, nudging the still full glass of vodka towards you. Figuring it’s his way of telling you to clean and sterilize the wound before the prodding at it begins, you take a step closer. Hesitating slightly, your finger wraps around the amber glass, a deep breath leaves you as you tip it to your lips.
He nods his head towards you and raises his own glass, and as the liquid flows into your mouth, he toasts, “To Steve.”
The liquor sits on your tongue longer than you’d like it to as you glare at him. Swallowing it down, you blame the harsh burn in your throat for the prickle that’s forming behind your eyes.
Spinning on your heel to follow Eddie, Murray’s voice calls out quietly, making you pause.
“I’d tell him sooner, rather than later.”
Looking over your shoulder, he puts the glasses in a bin underneath the bar, not looking back at you as he quietly adds, “In my experience, there’s always space to dive deeper into the story. Things are often not what they appear to be. And well,” he chuckles to himself, “Harrington’s got a lot more going on under all that hair than meets the eye I think.” Your brows furrow as Murray looks up at you, patting his hand over his heart with a smirk on his lips, “And I’m not talking about the stuff on top of his head.”
Normally, the joke about Steve’s chest hair would have your lips twitch into a smile, a roll of your eyes, but instead, his words float through the air until they arrive in your gut, sitting heavy and dragging you down. They try to ignite that hope again, but you know it’s no use in letting it light anymore.
Your feet push forward, stomping down the hallway without a word back. As the door swings closed behind you, your eyes blink, adjusting to the harsh sunlight you’d forgotten was shining outside. The sounds from earlier now connecting to what’s before you. Several enclosed batting cages sit just beyond a wooden and covered back patio of the bar. There’s two older men with their bags of gear sitting at their feet. Each drinking a beer at a small wooden table, rubbing their shoulders. Eddie is inside one of the cages. His leather jacket hung on the fence, a blue helmet squishing down his curls. The white cotton of his baseball tee stretches over his flexing back muscles as he swings at a ball released by the machine.
As your feet scuff against the deck and then the gravel, you take another deep breath, mouth opening to just blurt out some sort of apology to him. Eddie stops the machine with a harsh smack to a button on the side of the cage. He comes out the door, holding the helmet and bat out to you, chest moving up and down with each ragged breath. He offers a closed lip smile as he says, “Your turn.”
“Eddie, I really don’t…” you trail off until you settle on just asking, “Why?”
“Would you just do it?” He frowns, tone annoyed as he extends his arms towards you further.
Eyebrows raised in anticipation he nods once as you take the items with a huff and stomp into the cage. As you place the helmet onto your head, and stare down the machine, you exhale and press the button. It whirs back to life as your hands wrap around the bat and you step up to the metaphorical plate, Eddie’s voice calling from over your shoulder as you do.
“So, wanna tell me why you’re sad? Talk about anything Murray said?”
Your fingers curl tighter around the grip, shoulders going up in defense again. Your jaw clenches before you grit out, “For the last time Eddie, I’m not sad. I’m fine.”
Eddie snorts behind you as you swing at the first ball released, missing.
Strike one.
“Sure, figured that’d be your answer. So,” he sighs heavily and you hear the fence rattle like he’s kicking it, “Why’re you avoiding us again then?”
You knew this topic couldn’t be dodged forever. It’s true, you’d been pulling away again since Halloween, and getting the save the date was the nail in your friendship’s coffin. As the wedding looms in the not so distant future, it’s easier to pull away from him, from all of them, because you know that they were and always will be Steve’s friends first. Intentions of not letting Steve keep them from you seem futile now, when you know the history and depth of friendship you’re up against. You’re not gonna say that to Eddie though, so as the next pitch is released, you swing and stammer out a pathetic lie.
“I-I’m not.” The ball makes contact, causing your forearms to vibrate from the bad swing. Your grip tightens so the bat doesn’t fall from your fingers as the ball pops up and behind you, rattling the fence.
“Well that’s a load of crap. Wanna know what I think?” Eddie yells, not pausing for you to refute and sarcastically continuing, “Great, I’m overjoyed to tell you.”
Your heel digs into the gravel and your eyes narrow on the whirring machine, waiting for him to sink the scalpel into you, defenseless - trapped from running away from him, stuck in this cage with nowhere to go to avoid what he’s about to tell you.
“I think you are sad. I think Murray was right and you don’t wanna admit it to him, to anyone, and especially not yourself. Instead of an easy fix of talking about it, you wanna sit in your pity and throw a party.” Eddie’s voice takes on a dramatic, high pitched imitation of you as the next ball is released and you swing, “I’m Y/N! Woe is me! I’m all alone! Nobody loves me!”
You miss the ball again, shoulders hunching in, desperate to make yourself smaller with each of the words that he shouts at your back. Turning to look over your shoulder, you glare at him.
Strike two.
Eddie leans against the fence, glaring right back at you with his eyebrows raised as you hiss, “You’re being an asshole.”
“Yeah? At least I’m an asshole who’s got friends,” he gestures towards you, “You clearly think you don’t.” You twist your toe in the gravel deeper, returning your focus to the machine and taking a deep breath as he keeps going. “I’ll have Murray pour you some more vodka and you can sit here and think about how your life is horrible. Truly tragic.”
Your eyes narrow from his bored tone, lifting your chin and elbow, adamant to ignore him.
“You have nothing and no one.”
Another exhale, your chest rises and falls with a deep inhale and your shoulders relax. Straining to hear the hint of the ball being released instead of Eddie yelling at you.
“Maybe you’ll get a cat one day, but ultimately you’re gonna die alone!”
SMACK.
Your bat meets the ball and it soars to the end of the cage and you spin on him. Face hot, your emotions bubbling and ready to explode. Anger mingling with adrenaline coursing through your veins from the hit, amping up how the words fall out of you in an angry cry.
“Yeah! I am Eddie! And that’s what I want! So fucking lay off!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s easier!”
When he yells right back, without pausing, asking you for a reason, the excuse falls out of you easily. Your mouth closes immediately after the words tumble out in your scream, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as Eddie’s narrow. He shakes his head, volume lowering only slightly.
“Nah, that’s just fucking running. And take it from someone who ran for a long time, it feels easy, but it’s the furthest thing from. Eventually, you are going to get tired, and your problems will be right on your heels.
Facing the machine again so you don’t have to look into his eyes any longer, you shake your head no at him, letting a ball hit the end of your bat, popping forward limply as you try to speak with confidence.
“I’m not running from problems Eddie, I’m just…it’s easier to be the one who does the leaving than to be the one who’s left, okay?”
The words float through the air, unable to be taken back, and their weight makes something in your chest squeeze and constrict.
“That’s some next-level, glass half empty, pessimistic, depressing shit. And who the hell said anyone was going anywhere? You’re refusing to see that if you looked back for one second from the door you’ve been half out since you got here, that nobody else even has their shoes on.”
The squeezing in your chest only intensifies, his cut getting deeper as he searches for answers, and your bat hesitates halfway through your swing, sending a ball straight up into the air above you. You breathlessly ask, “What?”
Eddie waits until you look over your shoulder at him, emphasizing each word. “Nobody’s leaving you.”
His words hit you harder than your bat has hit any of the balls. It feels like one was pitched right into your gut, expelling all the air from your lungs and causing the tears that have been right behind your eyes to well up hard and fast. You spin to avoid his gaze again and square up for another pitch.
Eddie doesn’t know that it’s not a promise anyone can make - life doesn’t care.
Your head shakes, tears brimming on your lash line as you argue, “You can’t know that Eddie, not really. It’s better this way.”
SMACK.
A tear slips over your bottom lashes, trailing down your cheek as the bat makes good contact again and Eddie digs the scalpel in for his final cut. “Fine. Believe that. But you need to admit that you’re slamming the door on our faces and pretending like no one is still standing on the other side, knocking and asking to be let back in.”
The machine whirls, it wooshes with the release of a ball as another tear, and then another falls. Your vision progressively grows fuzzy, the world around you blurring as you swing again and his voice washes over you.
“Did you know that Nancy is a freak just like you, and I’m sure she’d be happy to split some Cherry Garcia any time? God help you both for liking such a disgusting flavor.”
You let the tears fall openly, but silently, as you swing harder this time. The weight in your stomach - the knots that have been forming since the very first lie was told - twist and tug harder.
“I know you’re not stupid enough to think I wouldn’t come have a beer with you, or take you to Target to get some new sheets or food that doesn’t have the Frito-Lay logo plastered on it.”
Another ball pops up and behind you as you clear your throat. Refusing to believe what he’s saying, you wonder if he can see the tears hitting the tan gravel beneath you and darkening it like drops of rain.
“And Robin! She’d love to watch Double O Seven with you. You should hear her Sean Connery impression. It’s terrible.” Eddie laughs a little and you twist the toe of your converse into the gravel, covering up a dark spot.
“But no. Instead of any of that, you just gave up. You didn’t give any of us a chance. Steve Harrinngton’s dumb ass is the only thing to blame for all your loneliness, sadness, and problems. So keep ignoring the footsteps running behind you and the knocking, or open the fucking door.”
You want to believe Eddie, you really do. But what happens when you come to rely on someone, need the support to lean on, and they’re gone?
Your head shakes harder, a sob stuck in your throat as you barely murmur, “Eddie, I can’t.”
His voice is softer than it has been all day as he asks, “Can’t or won’t?”
More tears fall past your lashes. The last ball is pitched and you choke out, “I’m sorry.”
You don’t attempt to swing at this one and it hits the fence behind you. The machine whirs one final time then stops.
“Yeah, me too.”
Heavy, suffocating, disappointment lingers in the air around you.
It takes several minutes, even more tears falling quietly, for you to remove the helmet from your head and drop both it and the bat on the ground with a clang. When you turn around, swiping at your cheeks, Eddie isn’t there.
Each drag of your feet inside is an active fight. Limbs heavy, heart even more so, because you know what awaits you inside before it’s confirmed.
Murray looks up from a keg he’s tapping and simply nods to the end of the bar. Your phone and wallet sit there and you know the Jeep and Eddie will be gone when you push out the door crying.
You’ve somehow done the leaving and were left this time.
Strike three.
It’s literally a symptom, or as some like to claim - stage - of grief.
Denial.
We lie all the time. We tell lies to spare or protect feelings, and more importantly, we lie to ourselves, instead of facing truths head on.
Because it’s easier to lie - to avoid, to shut something down, or deny its existence when it’s too hard to look at directly. Which is interesting. Why has there not been some sort of evolutionary transformation from this reaction? And really, the longer you wait to face something, the harder the truth is going to hit you. The time you give a truth to sit untold, unacknowledged, it only grows larger. That truth takes hearty roots, and your avoidance in the form of lies, whether to yourself or others, or both, only allows it to spread more rapidly.
Eventually, you will have to stop lying, to stop running, and that truth will have grown in strength. It has sprouted new truths or problems because your lies only fed it the fertilizer it needed to do so, and now it’s suddenly not the one thing you have to face anymore, but the multiple harder truths.
Which may be why you’re still outside, staring up at Nancy’s brownstone, where all of your friends, or well, the people you hope are still your friends are-
“Out of the bike lane!”
You jump forward onto the sidewalk just in time for a man in bright yellow spandex to zoom past you shouting some sort of curse as you clutch the dessert in your hands tighter.
Grateful you had a firm handle on it to begin with, it's one of the few family heirlooms you held onto along with the recipe it’s holding. Hoping to gain some sort of courage from deep within it, like your mom can offer you some through the dish, you make your way up the brick steps.
The only reason you're here, the only reason you’re facing this day the way you’re feeling just so happens to be the one to open the door before you can even ring the bell.
The door is flung open and her bright blue eyes fight to sparkle behind squinted eyelids that are almost shut she’s smiling so wide at you.
“Happy Friendsgiving!” Robin shouts louder than she needs to and holds her arms out in a dramatic greeting. She’s covered from fingertips to elbows in thick, orange goo, her clearly thrifted oversize old man sweater sleeves pushed up to her shoulders. You smile your first genuine smile in weeks as she goes to hug you and you both pause, rethinking it.
“Fall in a pumpkin?” You quip as you balance the dessert in your hand to shrug off one arm of your coat.
Robin wiggles her fingers and hands spirit and jazz style with a beam that shows off her dimple as she corrects, “Sweet potato casserole.”
“You fell in a sweet potato casserole?” Following her deeper into Nancy’s, you take in a long breath, the tight chest you’ve had since Eddie left you at Murray’s loosening with each word exchanged between you and her. But knowing you have to face him, Nancy, Steve and her, and continue to pretend nothing is wrong while around Robin, has the constricting pressure around your heart returning quickly.
Robin rolls her eyes, turning and walking backwards and making a face at you. She huffs as she turns back around, “No. Steve is making his famous mac and cheese and apparently I was annoying him, can you believe it? So him and Nance put me on mashing duty to keep me busy like a toddler.”
“You said it, not me!” Steve calls, his wine glass stopping before his lips when he makes eye contact with you.
Weeks of not seeing each other after the way you left things was going to be hard, you knew that. But you really weren’t prepared for how he looks today, or how it would affect you.
He’s got a burnt orange, almost brown, thick sweater on with light wash jeans. You’re sure both are from the section of his closet you stumbled upon months ago. That part holding his clothes he doesn’t wear often for whatever reason. He looks comfortable, casual, content. Down to the tube socks on his feet and the worn brown leather of the band of his watch. Your chest aches a little as you wonder if it’s Leigh that’s gotten him to relax into this version of himself. Even his hair, longer than a few weeks ago, is different than you’ve seen from him. Far messier than usual - like it hasn’t seen products or been styled lately, and several days of facial hair evident on his jaw. He looks like a version of Steve designed to torture you - a Steve who you’ve only gotten glimpses of and you miss before you’ve even really met.
“Hi,” he says quietly, smiling closed-lipped at you.
“Hi,” you offer with your own hesitant smile. Your fingers fiddle with the tinfoil over the edge of the dessert from your spot where you linger in the doorway.
“How are you? Do you…wine?” Steve stammers over his questions, cheeks turning pink. He spins and starts pouring you some without waiting for your answer. It gives you a small bit of relief that he’s as anxious as you are, neither of you knowing what comes next. Do you ever return to normal? And what is normal for you and Steve?
“Sure, yeah, good. You?”
Steve nods his head too quickly, spinning to face you again with the wine. “Good, yeah, thanks.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
Steve blinks at you, hazel eyes bright under the soft glow of Nancy’s pendant lighting hanging above her island. As you stare at each other, unsaid words float in the air, it was silly to think it could ever just be over with him. You miss entering a room and not sharing this awkward, palpable, tension - when it was a smile or joke exchanged instead of forced greetings, a warmth and joy felt instead of dread.
You hate that you don’t hate him.
You hate that there’s this horrible ache in your chest, like words want to tumble out but you physically can’t say them - why can’t you both just apologize? Why can’t that save the date be ripped to shreds? Why can’t it all work out?
“You two are acting weird.”
Robin’s voice bursts whatever bubble you were both in, and you clear your throat, looking down. Steve’s fingers adjust on the wine glass and he shakes his head.
Steve stammers, “N-no, we’re g-”
“Good?” Robin questions, eyebrows raised, “Yeah I gathered that.”
Before either of you can say anything in response, Nancy’s voice calls from the front door, “Crisis averted! I found a bag!”
Her brown curls bounce against her cheeks as she jogs into the kitchen. Dressed up in black suede boots and flared jeans, her tan peacoat left open showing off a silky black blouse. She pauses, mid stride, bag of marshmallows held aloft and her smile faltering as her gaze darts around the room.
Feeling warm under Robin’s sudden perceptiveness, you’re grateful when Nancy springs into action, relieving the awkward tension.
“Geez Robin, did any sweet potato end up in the dish? I left you alone with them for twenty minutes.”
Robin’s lips twitch slightly, eyes finally leaving Steve’s as she looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers, the orange goo becoming stiff and hard on her skin.
Nancy gives you a look, her eyes narrowed in a question but smiles when Robin looks back up. She places the marshmallows on the counter and grabs her hand. “Well, Y/N, can finish up.” She directs her next words to you, head nodding to a pan on the counter, “Put those marshmallows on top and stick it in the oven. Steve, your cheese isn’t gonna grate itself. And you,” Nancy tugs Robin out of the kitchen, smiling sweetly at her, “Are gonna come get cleaned up with me.”
Robin’s entire face turns pink, freckles standing out on her skin, from the way Nancy stares at her intently, like no one else exists. You look down, hiding your smile when Robin coughs, sputtering out something that you’re sure is supposed to be a yes. She eagerly nods and Steve huffs loudly, which makes her turn to glare over her shoulder at him, but it quickly turns into a smile as you call out, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” to their retreating forms.
Their footsteps fade and Steve reaches out with one hand, looking at the dessert as he asks, “I can grab that from you?”
As the door to her bedroom clicks closed, you breathe out an exhale, unsure of how much longer you can keep it all up. His eyes are warm as his fingers brush the dish and you pull it back from his reach a bit, whispering, “It’s really fragile.”
Steve’s eyes bounce over your face, setting the wine down, both hands reaching for the dessert as he promises, quiet and sure, “I got it.”
Your fingertips graze each other as he takes it, and the electricity of just one more touch from him is enough kindling for the hope to spark. The heat from his stare has your cheeks warming and his turning pink. Steve’s lips twitch slightly in the corners as he glances down at the dish, then back up at you.
“So, this just from Mariano’s then?”
Your eyes roll hard at his assumption, scoffing as you turn to rip open the bag of marshmallows and keep your back to him. “You would ask if it was from there instead of Jewel.”
Steve knocks the faucet off from washing his hands, shaking them into the sink and flinging water across the stainless steel before drying them. He sucks his teeth with a wince as he turns to the counter, his shoulder next to yours. “Yeah, okay that’s fair.”
You laugh quietly, popping a marshmallow in your mouth in between placing them haphazardly across the orange mixture. Steve sighs next to you and gestures to the dish. “See, this is why I asked. No way you baked something. Didn’t think you could do anything in the kitchen except keep your take out menus impeccably organized.”
“Impeccably huh? That your word of the day on the calendar Robin got you?” You toss another marshmallow in your mouth with a smirk.
“Actually, no today’s word was assiduous.”
The veins in his hands flex as he grates the cheese, and he gives you a look as he says the word with confidence and emphasis, eyebrows raised.
You stall, taking a sip of your wine and hiding your smile in the glass before asking, “What, am I supposed to be impressed or something?”
He dumps the cheese into the pot and turns to you, cocking his head, tongue in his cheek before he frowns. “You’re not?”
Steve’s lips twitch, his facade breaking easily and you both laugh. Your shoulders relax further and so do his. Why does it have to be so easy with him, yet so hard?
“Actually, I think it will be you who’s impressed,” you start, making the marshmallows a little more purposeful and pretty for his sake.
“Oh yeah?”
You hum, nodding, “I made that pie from scratch.”
“No you didn’t.”
Looking up, you see him shaking his head. He makes eye contact with you and he shrugs, adamant, “Nope. No way.”
Your hands land on your hips as your tone turns indignant. “Yes I did! I made the crust from scratch, cold butter into flour and everything. Rolled it out, doctored up the filling in a pan on the stove. Brown sugar, the works.”
His hand stops on the second block of cheese, eyes narrowing at you as he questions, “Really?”
A laugh leaves you from the tone of his suspicion as you slide the pan holding Robin’s dish into the oven. “You sound like my dad when my mom made it the first time.”
Steve doesn’t say anything and your lip tugs between your teeth as you remember the moment between your parents. Maybe it’s the holiday, maybe you’re just tired, maybe it’s the few sips of alcohol that let the story fall out of you so easily.
“She was really awful at cooking,” you laugh, taking a sip of wine and waving your hand in the air, “I mean like, awful. She could serve you a grilled cheese that was somehow burnt but the cheese was cold? She got better, but anyways, I really don’t know why she thought she’d be any better at baking…”
Steve’s eyes meet yours briefly as he takes his own sip of wine and you look away, grabbing some of the cheese and deciding to help as you keep talking.
“I don’t remember how she decided to do this, but my dad was out of town for work, and she wanted to make him something special, and to her that was a pie, I guess? But she was adamant that it be from scratch. Made and baked with love. And so we did. We went and got all of the ingredients, and we destroyed the kitchen, but it was the most fun I’ve ever had with her. We listened to Dolly Parton and drank wine all day, totally got flour and butter everywhere, I told her about classes, and the guy I was seeing…”
Your eyes drift off the counter, remembering it was right before you knew she was sick and your chin trembles as a watery laugh leaves you, “And then my dad got home. Oh my god, his face. He, he…” you blink away tears as you start laughing harder, “He just dropped his duffle bag on the ground and shook his head looking around in shock and my mom yelled ‘We made you a pie!’ and my dad just raised his eyebrows and said ‘Sure looks like you made somethin’.”
The last words come out shaky and it isn’t until you feel a pressure on top of one of your hands that you realize you had been grating the cheese down to almost nothing, stealing it from him. Glancing up through blurry vision, tears continue to fall down your cheeks as Steve quietly asks, “But it was good?”
You snort, more tears leaving you as you shake your head no. “It was inedible,” you laugh harder, “Like raw, but somehow dry and clumpy, so bad.”
Steve squeezes your hand, eyebrows furrowing together as his confusion settles deeper in his face and he starts cautiously, “So…you…made an inedible pie for us tonight?”
Your head shakes more and you take a deep breath, laughter and tears slowing. “No, after that, she, um…” closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and push out, “She needed to keep her hands working…”
When you open your eyes again, Steve’s staring intently at you, waiting. You wonder why he can wait patiently for this story, look at you like he’d wait an eternity for you to tell him the ending, but he couldn’t wait for you. But, would you have wanted him to? When you’re certain that the potential of losing him, all of them, completely, isn’t worth the risk. Would he have waited forever for you to change your mind?
Your voice breaks as you finish, “Her chemo…she started to get neuropathy, and making the crust and keeping her hands and brain busy helped. So she kept practicing until it was perfect. And now it’s one of the last things I have from her. The dish too, we went and searched for the right one…” Fingers of your free hand form quotation marks as you roll your eyes with a laugh, remembering her ridiculous insistence on it and the day of estate sales and thrift stores.
It’s silent as the unsaid ending washes over you both, the importance - the weight - of the dessert and the story. The immediate need to take it all back rises up in you hard, wishing you could put the entire thing back inside yourself and rewind the last few minutes. The vulnerability leaves you cracked open and exposed to him and you’re not sure you can handle his reaction.
“I’m sorry,” your brows furrow, “I don’t know why I just…”
Steve’s fingers wrap around yours tighter and he squeezes. Your eyes meet the moss and honey you want to avoid because you’re sure they’re looking at you with that look. The pitying one, the one that everyone gets before they tell you a sorry that doesn’t help.
But Steve’s eyes shine with something stronger - admiration and amusement as he winces, “So, see, that story tells me that your mom practiced and practiced to make a perfect pie not you and-”
Your hand smacks at his chest lightheartedly, laughing around a protest. Steve holds his hands up in surrender, “Hey, hey, okay!”
Both of your laughter subsides and he smiles, a genuine smile, one side of his lips twisted up as he looks at the pie then you. “I’m sure it’s great. I’m excited to try it. Thank you for telling me that…I wish I could have met…”
As he trails off, your fingers brush against his on the counter, your bodies shift closer, letting the story and laughter pull you into each other’s gravity once more. Maybe it doesn’t have to be hard - there’s a reason you can fall so easily back into each other. A reason you can offer up a story you normally keep close if he’s the one listening, a reason you can forgive. There has to be a reason your body wants to be closer to his, a reason you want to feel his lips on yours again. Maybe there are cosmic connections, unexplainable phenomena of the universe, fate and destiny and invisible strings.
Hope flourishes inside of you, it catches on every bounce of his eyes over your face, the way his finger nudges against yours just like they did in that car ride to a lake so many weeks ago. It sparks and drifts into the air, it floats around you like embers from an actual fire as he breathes your name out and your body takes one step closer, making you chest to chest. One easy tilt of your head, one bend from his and maybe it’d all be okay again.
The doorbell rings, making both of you jump apart. The reality of the situation hits you, like someone dumped an entire bucket of water over the hope as Steve looks toward the door and frowns. You keep letting yourself end up in this position and eventually it’s going to hurt so much you’ll never be able to come back from it.
You’re not his, he’s not yours, and it’s too late. Another girl calls him baby, he calls her honey, and they go on and have the life you were certain you never wanted - all because you can’t let him in the way he wanted you to. This isn’t a movie, there is no rewind, there is no pause, and it’s time to move on.
“I’ll go get that, you have cheese to…uh…”
“Y/N, wait-”
You’re already out of the kitchen, speed walking to the front door. Dreading the girl you’re certain is on the other side, you start to pull your shoes back on. Maybe you could slip out with an excuse and leave. Your destiny isn’t Steve, it’s to always run, to always be alone.
The door swings open and you look up from your crouched position, one shoe on. Eddie is standing in the doorway, holding a bag of Hawaiian Rolls and looking at you, eyebrows raised in wait.
He holds open the door and gestures outside as he asks, “Should I leave this open?”
Your stomach swoops, thinking of the chance he’s giving you, the opportunity to do what you want, no questions asked. But your heartbeat thuds loudly in your ears at the opposite side of the coin - the other chance he’s giving you.
A deep breath is exhaled as you shakily ask, “That depends…are you still knocking?”
Eddie shrugs. “Maybe. Only one way to really find out right?”
Nodding once, you stand. A limped step over to the door with one shoe on, and you close it. Your palm rests flat against the wood as you take another calming breath. The sounds of the others in the kitchen are muffled as you turn around and look up at Eddie. You kick off the shoe, take a step forward, and mime opening a door.
Letting a tear slip past your lash line, you shrug, standing in the metaphorical open doorway and hold your breath.
He smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Thank god, my arm was getting really tired.”
Another watery laugh starts to escape you and you wrap your arms around him in a hug. “I’m sorry. For everything, for dragging you into all of this and for leading you on and…and…”
He extends his fingers, counting his points as he sighs, “You forgot for being stubborn, for not asking me to be the Inigo to your Buttercup, for-”
“I’m sorry.” You force every ounce of meaning behind the words as you squeeze his waist tighter and he finally meets your hug, long arms wrapping around you.
“We’re all good sweetheart, don’t sweat it.” He pats your shoulder and takes a step back, cocking his head, “But that’s not all…” he taps his finger to your forehead, “What else is going on up there? Why were you leaving?”
“Y/N, please don’t…” Steve trails off as he comes into the entryway. You duck your head and sniff quietly, hoping there’s no evidence of your tears that escaped and break away as Steve clears his throat. “So-sorry. I thought you were…nevermind.”
Steve turns quickly on his heel, back towards the kitchen where the sounds of Robin and Nancy arguing about something echo louder down the hall. Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes at Steve’s back, and gestures for you to go before him, quietly whispering, “We’ll chat later about that.”
“Why does it smell like that? What did you put in it?” Nancy is bent down, looking at the dish you placed in the oven. Her hair is damp, curls weighed down against her cheeks, but her sleek outfit is back on, sans coat, sleeves rolled up.
Robin’s hair has a towel twirled on top of it, though she’s otherwise back in her jeans and sweater, her hands on her hips. “I don’t know! I did exactly what you said!”
“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, tossing the bread onto the counter.
“You don’t smell that?” Nancy shakes her head, hand held out to the air in exasperation.
Steve’s back is to you as he dumps cooked noodles into his pot of melted cheese and Eddie shakes his head no. Your nose starts to wrinkle though the longer you sit in the space.
Your hands raise, “I swear I just put the marshmallows on.”
It takes Nancy gagging on a bite she tries to eat of the casserole and Steve going through his spices next to his pot to realize Robin used paprika instead of cinnamon. A lot of paprika.
She throws her hands up in the air as she storms out to the deck, where you’ve all decided it’d be better to eat, bundled up from the cold, than inside trapped with the smell. “You know what, I never asked to cook anything so eat you’ll eat your paprika sweet potatoes and like it!”
As everyone sits at the table, Eddie looks around and asks, “Shouldn’t we wait for one more?”
“What?” Steve asks him, tone a little sharp, sitting down in the seat across from you.
“Your fiance? Isn’t she coming?” Eddie prods, meeting Steve’s cold attitude with an equal sting and rolled back shoulders.
“I’m sure she was earlier,” Robin mumbles into her wine glass, “Ow.” She glares at Steve who kicks her under the table.
Nancy rolls her eyes as Steve shakes his head no, clearing his throat, “She’s…we haven’t…she’s with her family already.”
Robin sighs from her spot next to you and your eyes meet Steve’s before jumping down to your plate. The pressure around your heart squeezes even tighter - maybe it was only easy with him because she’s not here, and that is not always going to be the case. Your fingers itch, neck rolling from the tension. You want to get up and walk away, but Eddie’s knee nudges yours and your shoulders relax slightly.
Nancy raises her glass, changing the subject, “Okay, before we dig in, I want to say that I’m very grateful for you all, and here’s to many more years of Friendsgiving.” She smiles at Robin when she uses the name.
Robin beams, holding her glass up too, “Here, here! Now everyone take two scoops of the potatoes.”
Glasses clink and laughter shared, it's easy for you to believe Nancy. Easy with Steve smiling across from you and Eddie and Robin bickering about the food next to you, with her not there, to believe that you’ll be a part of their stories. Maybe -
“So, Dingus, it’s time to spill all the details about Leigh.” Robin leans forward on the table, her eyebrows raised as Steve’s glass pauses halfway to his mouth. “We don’t know anything and you’re getting married in like five months.”
Nancy and Eddie’s bites and glasses also freeze, not so discreet looks at you from both of them. Nancy finishes swallowing and shakes her head, “Robin, we know enough! Let Steve-”
“No we don’t! I don’t know how you met, or if she’s moved in, and how he proposed and why on earth he didn’t tell his best friend! I have him cornered finally and you’re all gonna help me. Don’t act like you guys don’t want to know either!”
“Robin,” Steve starts licking his lips as he looks at her then you, “Can we not do this right now?”
“Time’s up bub,” Robin frowns, shaking her head, “I promise we like her, she’s cool. But you’ve been dodging the questions and me for weeks now. Start with the easy one, how’d you meet?”
Steve looks at you like he’s in physical pain and you look down at the liquid in your wine glass, swirling the red wine around as you wait for the story that is sure to kill you. You wish he’d just rip the band-aid off, get it over with.
“We, uh, met through my parents.” Steve swallows a large gulp of wine.
Your head whips up at the comment and Steve stares at you, frowning before he looks up at the sky.
Robin’s brows furrow as she asks, “Your parents?” Equally shocked as you are. It isn’t a secret that Steve and his parents aren’t always on the same page.
Steve rubs at his forehead, closing his eyes before he sets the wine glass down. He straightens, rolling his shoulders back, “Okay, it’s all going to come out anyways so…our parents set us up. It’s been arranged for awhile, we didn’t really date or anything, we’re getting married because that’s what we do. She’s from a good family and I’m from a good family, it makes sense. For business and life and…that’s it.”
The table is silent as Steve’s lips twist, waiting for someone to say something.
Your heartbeat isn’t loud in your ears, your stomach doesn’t swoop - it’s like all noise has left the planet. It’s like someone actually hit pause as his explanation and the last few months catch up with each other in your brain until they meet in a loud explosion. It’s an actual glass shattering sound effect. Heartbreak and hope and disbelief and anger swell inside of you like a wave ready to devour anyone who was stupid enough to enter the unpredictable ocean.
It’s surprising to everyone, including yourself, when you’re the one to break the silence. The question leaves you so quietly, you weren’t even certain you asked it out loud until he looked at you.
“So you’re not in love with her?”
As Steve stares at you, the table floats away, it’s just you and him. His mouth parts, but no response falls from it. You stand abruptly, chair scraping against the wood deck harshly as you push back, muttering something about needing to put the dessert into the oven. Your stomach that’s been twisted into knots for months feels like someone pulled one loose thread and it’s unraveling inside of you. A box of bouncy balls released, an unpredictable canon of confetti, trapeze artists, butterflies, boulders, and a deep ocean swallowing you. All of it, finally coming together and creating catastrophe.
It’s like every single moment you’ve been angry with him is turned up to eleven, but so is every look and touch. Every single one feels like a lie, a slap to your face - he was just using you because he was indecisive, scared, afraid to give up his single life. Steve Harrington was just like every other man. Your entire last few months swirl around inside your brain, replaying every moment, every emotion like a favorite movie. But it’s like someone took that film and told you every single thing wrong with it. Like they pointed out how everything you loved was just covering up the real and horrible plot - bright lights and pretty sets to convince everyone they had a good time, when in reality it was cheaply made and not worth it.
Your hands shake as you start to rip at the foil covering the pie, and his voice calls out behind you, “Please let me answer that question. Please let me explain.”
A scoff leaves you, eyes closing as you bite back, “It’s fine Steve. Clearly I was just some placeholder for you the whole time.”
“Placeholder?”
You spin, hands in the air as you search for words to make him see how much this hurts you. “Yeah, yes. Some, I don’t know. Last hurrah!”
“What?” The word comes out sharp, like he truly doesn’t understand what you’re saying. His cheeks are pink, his hair blown from the wind outside, eyes wide and blinking at you like you’re crazy.
“You heard me! I was just some fun fuck before you sealed the deal on your spoiled brat fate.”
Steve’s mouth falls open, then quickly closes, taking a step closer, hands clenched into fists as his brows furrow. His jaw tightens with each word, “I’m not a spoiled brat!”
Another scoff, a cold laugh as you wave your hand again. “Oh please Steve! You used me to bide your time and prolong the inevitable! You were just avoiding looking at the contract you signed!”
Steve stands over you, both of your chests rising and falling in time, the air inside the kitchen warmer from the oven being on all day and your words shouted at each other - the sparks leaping from your bodies and engulfing each other.
“I didn’t use you! You offered! It was all your idea! I’m so sick of this-”
You shove at his chest and he grabs your wrists, as you mock him, voice dripping with fake pity, “Oh, poor Steve Harrington. I have to get married and say goodbye to my single life, but let me use this girl-”
“This isn’t about me, I have to make decisions that affect my whole family, I can’t just say no! And what was I supposed to do? The person I want doesn’t want me!” HIs voice cracks as he drops your hands, fire cracking and sizzling between you both. His admission, the chance to tell him he’s wrong, that you do want him, makes your heart beat turn rapid, like it’s actually trying to punch its way out of your body.
You shake your head, pushing down the flames of hope threatening to burn you alive, pushing him away. “You saw an opportunity to postpone but not fully deny. It’s fine Steve, I get it. It was the safe option.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Grabbing the pie, you sob, “Security. Money. You couldn’t say no to them. And then when I offered to fuck you no strings attached? Man,” you scoff out another laugh around your tears, “You probably thought you won the lottery, huh?”
Steve grabs for the pie, his eyes wet as he shakes his head. Voice hoarse as he argues, “You’re so unbelievably wrong. I couldn’t fucking wait for you to maybe, hopefully, open up one day! I have to move on! And it’s not like she’s a bad person, and I don’t know why we’re arguing about this again, because clearly you’re with Eddie.”
You tug harder on the dish but Steve doesn’t release as you cry out, “Oh! No! Don’t even try that! Eddie and I aren’t together and we never were! You’re using that as an excuse! Tell me Steve. Tell me you love her, that you want to marry her.”
“I-”
“Is that what your future looks like? Huh? Ten years down the road, it’s her? That’s what you imagined and not your parents?”
“Y/N, it’s not that simple!”
“It is! What do you want, Steve?”
You need him to tell you and he needs you to tell him and neither of you will - because you’re scared, stubborn. Two suns burning too hot and close together, and it was inevitable for it to end this way. You both stood on the edge of that cliff and saw the end you’d meet and you jumped anyway. Was it worth it?
“I can’t believe you two.”
This is the moment.
It wasn’t when he showed up at the football game with her. It wasn’t the party. It wasn’t the engagement.
It’s the look Robin is giving you both from her spot in the doorway. It’s the pie and the glass dish hitting the floor in shards of sapphire blue and orange peaches. It’s Steve and you both turning to her, shaking your heads no, saying her name in the same pleading way.
Her bright blue eyes turn to glass as she chokes around a tearful laugh, “I knew, I knew you both were hiding something, I just…why? Why couldn’t you just tell me?”
Nancy reaches for Robin’s wrist, “Robin, they didn’t mean to…”
Robin recoils, swiping at her cheeks. She looks at Nancy, then at Steve whose head falls, his hands in his hair. Eddie looks down too when Robin turns to him and she steps back again. “Everyone knew, huh? You all have been lying to me this entire time? Why? I don’t…” She shakes her head again and runs past you both, down the hall and slams the door.
Steve starts to go after her when a small frame stands in front of him like she’s twice his size, hand pressing to his chest. Fury burns in Nancy’s eyes as she blocks the hallway. Her voice low and far more angry than you’ve heard it be before. “I think you’ve done enough.”
“Nance, come on, that’s not fair,” Steve steps forward again and when she stops him with two hands now, his voice turns sharper, “Don’t act like you’re the only one who cares about her.”
“Yeah, well you’ve got a funny way of showing it Steve.” Nancy looks at you, “I think you should leave. All of you.”
Eddie grabs your elbow, speaking quietly, “I can drive you home.”
Steve laughs, “Oh, I’m sure you can.”
“Steve,” you start and he interrupts you, hands running down his face.
“No. It’s fine. It’s all my fault right? I’m the only one in the wrong?” He pushes past you, shoulder hitting Eddie’s hard and the door slamming even more so behind him. Pictures rattle against the wall, Nancy and her family's smiling faces tilted in their frame. The world turned off its axis.
It’s Nancy’s quiet knock from down the hall, Robin’s shouted ‘leave her alone’ and Eddie’s sigh of ‘fucking, christ’. It’s that there you stand, the door closed behind him, the mess you made, literally, surrounding you.
This, the consequences of all of your actions - is the double tap.
You let the mess build, you let the avoided truths take deeper roots and spread lies to cover them up. All because you wanted the hope to stay - you wanted it both ways - despite telling yourself different, despite lying to yourself for months.
Now, it’s too late. You’re just a girl who isn’t in a rom com with a happy ending. You’re alone, and the hope that maybe you wouldn’t be for once isn’t just gone, it’s ripped from your fingers.
The book is closed. The knife drips in the killer’s hand as the victim’s chest stops heaving. The spacesuit floats through a noiseless and lifeless galaxy. The body doesn’t get up from the mats and a silence falls over the crowd.
“Fuck!”
Your hands smack the steering wheel, a sob leaving you as your forehead falls against it.
You’ve been driving around for hours, hopeless. Your heart hasn’t stopped its erratic and hard beats since you ran out of Nancy’s. Somehow your body still courses with adrenaline, fight or flight still at war inside of yourself. Every time you think about the look Robin had on her face, every time you think about how much you hurt her, or how you may not see her again, you feel real, visceral, pain and panic. Your hands start shaking, the crying starts its cycle over from scratch, and you have to pull over until the snot sobbing stage settles into a calm, sort of silent cry.
This is a mess, and it’s your mess. Despite wanting to put all of the blame on Steve, you simply can’t run from this truth anymore. It was you who came up with the plan. Steve was hesitant immediately, bringing Robin’s thoughts up right away. It was you who came up with the Red Hot Ranch code, who kept going. It was you who called it off and started it up again despite knowing how it would all inevitably end. It feels like you pushed Steve off the cliff and thought it was okay because you were diving after him.
As you stare out the windshield, you know you have to stop running. Eddie’s words ring through the air.
Open the fucking door. Nobody’s leaving you.
You have to at least try, right? You have to apologize to her, to tell her it was all your fault so if she at least doesn’t forgive you, maybe you can offer a crack in the door to her forgiveness for the others. The others who simply got caught up in your lies, tripping over the tangled knot of roots they took.
You’re certain Robin and you met how and when you did not by chance, the universe gave you each other for a reason. You’re certain that there are soul mates, they’re just not in the form you always suspect. And you’re certain that if you don’t try to make things right, you’ll be miserable and truly alone for the rest of your life.
Robin once told you that she was there, and that she would be there when you were ready and you hope the offer still stands. Maybe you can’t make everything right, you can’t rewind, but you have to at least try to make the ending bearable.
When you turn the key in the ignition though, your car sputters. Your face twists into an expression of disbelief, only deepening when it does it again and your mouth falls open in shock when it suddenly starts to rain, mixing with snow that melts immediately on the ground. You laugh, looking out the windshield at the bleak and miserable sky, washing out the city in a dull gray.
“Of fucking course,” you mumble under your breath. Getting out of the car, you sigh as you lock it. You shield your eyes as you stare up at the sky and laugh, “You’re real funny. Great joke.”
Maybe it was a sign from the universe that you needed to really work for it, maybe it was bad karma, maybe you really deserved it, maybe it was even supposed to be a blessing - washing away the past to clear the slate for the future.
Regardless of reason, you don’t take the train, and you make the slow and wet walk back to where you came from.
The buzzer for her place rings with no answer. You know that she’s home because the light is on, and you intercepted her take out.
“Buckley I’ll keep buzzing, your egg rolls are getting cold!”
When she doesn’t answer again, you sigh, pressing your wet forehead to the cold brick and hold it down again, pulling out the big guns. “Okay, Robin, I, listen. I am so sorry. And if you want to hate me and never see me again, that’s totally fine, I understand. Because honestly, I am…I am scum for lying to you. I am pond scum. I’m lower than pond scum. I am the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”
You release the buzzer and when there still isn’t a click of her responding your chin trembles. Maybe you really did fuck it up that badly and there is no coming back from this. It was silly of you to think she’d ever forgive you, especially when she has Steve. You’re about to set the food down and buzz again to tell her you’ll leave when the front door opens.
“You’re lower actually.”
A sob leaves you as Robin stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her favorite Hawkins Band sweatshirt. The fuzzy lime green socks with banjos on them that you got her for her birthday on her feet.
You nod, swiping at your tears with a free hand. “You’re right. Lower than the fungus. I’m the pus that infects the mucus that cruds up the fungus that feeds on the pond scum.”
Robin’s lips twitch, but she rolls her eyes before they look at the ground. “Quoting Julia Roberts is really unfair. You know how much of a sucker I am for her. Cheap shot.”
A crack in the tightness in your chest starts to pry open as you whisper, “I almost bought roses and had this plan to blare classical music from my car but it broke down and…well, here I am anyways, asking for forgiveness and a chance to explain.”
She raises her eyebrows, waiting, and your chin trembles as your voice shakes, “Robin I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to lie to you about it all for so long. And there were so many times I wanted to tell you. I was selfish and wrong and scared I would lose you - that you’d pick his side and shut me out - but I’m here trying now…please don’t hate me forever. And don’t hate Steve. He did nothing wrong. Or Nancy, or Eddie. It was all me and I’m so, so, so, sorry, please let me explain everything and give me another chance to be even half the amazing friend that you are.”
It’s silent, for what feels like forever, until her eyes meet yours. Shining from tears and her nose wiggles as she sniffles, “You were going to Pretty Woman me?”
You nod, tears roll down your cheeks and mingle with the rain that coats them.
Robin sighs, choking on her own tears as she laughs, “You just get me.”
She engulfs you in a hug and both of you cry into each other’s shoulders as she says, “I’m still mad you all lied. You’re not off the hook. I think giving me limitless veto power for movie nights is extremely fair and nonnegotiable.”
Your body feels lighter than it has in months as your arm tightens around her as you agree with a teary laugh, whispering another apology while silently vowing to never let her go. It doesn’t matter what happens next, because at least you have her, and you know you always will.
Robin trips on a heel as she emerges from her closet. Tilting your head at the dress she holds up, your nose scrunches as you shake your head no.
She sighs, throwing it on the no pile and groans, “Ugh! This is hopeless!”
As she flops onto her bed with a huff, you laugh and swap places with her, “No, no, come on. Tell me again.”
Robin sits up, staring at her dresser with a furrow forming under her bangs. “I want to look professional, put together, but not like it’s an interview, you know? I want them to take me seriously, but I want to look like me. Ergo, I am doomed.”
Your fingers trail over her clothes, eyes searching again after they roll. “Ergo, you’ve been facetiming Dustin too much.”
A black dress catches your eyes, velvet and cinched at the waist. Pulling it from her closet you hold it up. “What about this? I’ve never seen you wear it. Is it new?”
Her head tilts, “Huh. I forgot I bought that for…” she trails off and looks at you with a sad smile. “Right. Yeah, you don’t think it’s too low cut?”
You shake your head no, taking a deep breath at her change of subject, thoughts drifting to if she bought it for the wedding or something related to it. Maybe you could ask, but you’ve sort of had a non-verbal agreement to not discuss Steve the last month and it’s been working. After explaining everything to her, including how you felt about him getting married, your complicated feelings, it just felt easier to not discuss anything relating to him.
“Throw a nice necklace on, you’ll be perfect babe,” you make an a-okay symbol with your fingers, “The Wheeler’s aren’t gonna know what hit em.” You smile and look at the clock on her nightstand, handing the dress out to her, “Get to it though, or you’ll be late.”
Robin makes no move to get up, holding the dress in her hands and staring at it.
She shakes her head no. “I can’t do this.”
Sitting next to her, the bed bounces lightly and you grab her hand. “You absolutely can do this. It’s just meeting the parents and siblings, all of whom you’ve met already.”
“But not as her girlfriend. When I met them she wasn’t even out. What if they hate me? What if I spill something? What if I order the wrong wine?”
Laughing, you hold her panicking face in your hands, taking a deep breath to encourage her to do so too. “Robin. Breathe.”
She does, her exhale shaky and you smile, head tilting as you let her face go, fixing a curl you smooshed. “You really love her don’t you.”
It’s not a question, but Robin answers anyway. She nods vehemently, words tumbling out of her like she can’t help it. “God so much it’s scary. But also not? I want to spend every second with her. I want to tell her about every dumb little thought that pops into my head and I want to hear what she ate for lunch every day. I want to wake up and fall asleep next to her and that’s insane! How can you love a person like that so quickly? Like everything in your body is screaming for it? It’s…it’s that kind of love I’ve only heard about before? That kind of love…” she trails off, maroon polished fingers covering her smile before she keeps going, “It’s easier than breathing. It is breathing, you know?”
As she says the words that prick at something inside of you, prodding on thoughts you’d locked away, her skin pales, looking like she’s going to be sick. “Oh my god I really can’t do this. I can’t-”
“Robin. One step at a time. Change your outfit, you can do that right?”
She laughs, head falling to your shoulder, a sing-song lilt to her voice, “We’ve been here before.”
“Yeah and look at what happened.”
Robin sits up, biting her lip, nodding once and standing. “Right.”
As she changes, you assess her jewelry box. Your eyes roam over the mirror of her vanity, smiling at the pictures. You pause at the one of her and Steve that’s new to you. He has his tongue out, her arm around him and your fingers touch the corner, an ache in your chest wondering what they were doing and what stories they’ll have from the day.
“Have you talked to him?”
Her question startles you and your shoulders lift. Clearing your throat, you hold the necklace out to her. “No, um, I haven’t. He’s good?”
Robin starts to hook the necklace as she hums, “I think so. It’s hard to tell some days.” She hesitates, her face pinched into a familiar look to you, the one that looks like she’s physically holding words in, a true test for her. She bends down to buckle her heels as she asks, “Is it always going to be this way? Avoiding talking about each other? Seeing each other?”
“No, I don’t think so. I just need some time. I’ll be okay.” Shrugging with a smile, you grab your purse and coat.
Robin’s blue eyes sparkle under shimmering gold eyeshadow and she tilts her head, a smile forming on her lips as she nods, confident in her words, “You will be. One step at a time.”
“Cute,” you muse, and take a step back. You twirl your fingers for her to spin and she rolls her eyes but obliges. The black velvet dress cuts off at her calves, hugging her curves in a sexy but modest way and the gold pendant on her necklace matches the blocky old-fashioned heels. You yell out, “Ow-ow!”
Robin laughs, waving you off and grabs her phone. “Okay picture!”
“Ew, Robin no! You look so good and I am literally in my sweatshirt with the mustard stain on it.”
She shushes you, “Tough tater tots toots.”
She pulls you in as you laugh, both of you easily falling into a goofy pose as she snaps a selfie. She nods her approval and grabs her coat, “Oh yeah, that one’s definitely going on the board.” She clicks her phone closed and you both head towards the stairwell.
As you step out of her apartment building, Nancy is getting out of an Uber, an emerald peacoat wrapped around her and she stops, eyes only on Robin.
“Hi,” she whispers, smiling, “Wow. You’re so beautiful.”
Robin’s face turns as red as her nails and you duck your head. “Well, I think that’s my cue to leave. Have a good night,” you squeeze Nancy’s hand, “Tell your brother and El hey from me?”
She squeezes it back, confirming she will, and holds the door open for Robin, then jogs around to the other side and you have to smile at her lack of wanting to scoot across the seat or maybe it’s just her old fashioned, secret romantic side coming out.
As you start to walk away, you hear your name and spin back around, Robin is leaning out of the window, smiling wide as she asks, “Benny’s tomorrow? 10?”
“I expect a full report!” You cross your arms over your chest, fore and middle fingers crossed in a good luck to her that she mirrors as the car drives away.
The walk to the train from there is short, your car still out of commission, and you pop your airpods in, debating how your evening will go. Eddie is already home for Christmas with his uncle in Indiana, Robin and Nancy together tonight, and Steve…
Before them, an evening alone like this never would have bothered you. Eating what you wanted to eat, watching what you wanted to watch - you got good at being alone, enjoying it actually. Now, there’s a funny little feeling that pulls at a thread inside of you, trying to unravel the work you’ve done.
As you wait for the train, pulling your winter hat tighter over your ears, you watch a couple come up the stairs. They have shopping bags in their hands, dressed in warm, wool coats. Giggly, pink cheeks, gloved hands clinging to each other. They sit just down from where you stand against the railing when you get on, huddled together as they look at a map on his phone, and you wonder what their story is - where they were, where they’re going, and if they love each other. It seems like they do, and you wonder if it’s the kind of love Robin explained.
How can anyone love like that aside from fictional people in the movies? How can you love someone so deeply and intensely, without fear of it being ripped away?
But maybe people do fear it being ripped away, and they love regardless. Fear doesn’t make love disappear, it makes it stronger. Because what if that person is gone one day? What if you never told them how you felt? What if you never even got the chance to see if you could love like that? Isn’t it better to try than never know?
As you look out the train doors, the sky is turning a soft pink and purple. The sun is setting over the city in one of those perfect nights, slow, like each color being revealed is a purposeful brushstroke, hand painted. A sign.
Sunsets. Steve. A good song. Steve. Your friends. Steve. Your family. Steve.
Easier than breathing.
An undeniable, unavoidable, unforgiving wave of heartbreak rolls over you. But it’s not alone, it’s hope, it’s questions and answers, it’s relief and clarity and you know what you have to do.
You unlock your phone, a desperation and need to get all of it out now, fueling each press of your thumbs to the screen. Maybe the story is wrong, but you’re the main character, narrator, and author and you can change it if you just put in the work to do so. Tears begin to fall down your cheeks, and you let them, unashamed, finally free of the place you’ve kept them locked away. Pressing send on the message, you hold your breath, hoping she’s not already too preoccupied with Nancy.
The train doors open and you rush down the stairs. Each step slams against the sidewalk, sending shocks up your spine, cold air filling your lungs as each stride brings you closer to him, but not fast enough. You have to try to change the story, you have to tell him.
But when his location is just out of your reach, when you see him, you slow down.
Steve stands beneath the gold twinkling lightbulbs of the old brick theater, the white marquee sign displaying the title ‘When Harry Met Sally’. He has a black beanie on, hair sticking out and curling slightly. A dark gray peacoat flutters against the back of his thighs in the wind, open to reveal the yellow sweater he has on and your feet come to a skidding stop. His phone is pressed to his ear as he looks up from where he was scuffing his Nike against the sidewalk and makes eye contact with you.
Your heart beat has thoroughly been replaced again as your hands start to shake, each slow step to him stretched out and lingering, lasting for what feels like minutes instead of seconds.
What if. What if. What if.
The phone slips, hand falling to his side. His brows furrow just under his hat and you want to reach forward and brush the worry away with your thumb. His greeting leaves him quietly, a puff of his breath and the word floating in the air just a few feet from you.
“Hi.”
Gesturing with a trembling hand to the sign above that you can no longer see, fully under the gold lights, you blurt out, “Did you know that it came out in 89’? So technically it’s a bad 80s rom com. I was wrong.”
Steve shakes his head, the twinkle of the lights highlighting the brown in his eyes, warm and sweet and deeply confused as he starts, “What are you-”
“I was wrong about a lot of things, Steve. And I know I’m late in saying that. I know I’m late for a lot more, but I think it’s better to say it late, to say it now, than to never tell you and wonder for the rest of my life.”
Steve’s lips part, your name a whisper on them, but you take a deep inhale and prepare to get it all out fast and without fear of needing a breath akin to the way Robin speaks, just so you can leave yourself open and vulnerable despite knowing that it could, and most likely will, hurt.
“I’m sorry if Leigh is inside or she’s gonna be here soon, but I have to tell you. I…Steve I’m sorry. I wanted to be friends with benefits because I was selfish. You were right. I wanted it both ways. At first, you were just this guy who was hot and funny and knew what he was doing and I didn’t want to lose that. But then, then I got to know you and that’s when it got complicated, because I really didn’t want to lose you then.” You swallow as Steve freezes in front of you, no longer stepping towards you and his shoulders hunch like he’s holding his breath as you keep going.
“I wanted you, but I was scared to commit, scared that if I did commit, I’d lose you all anyways. And I still am scared. Terrified,” you laugh a little as tears start to roll down your cheeks, “But I think being scared is worth it if I’m doing it with you. Because…” Inhaling, you take a step closer as Steve blinks at you, willing the words to keep coming.
“Because I think we could be something special if we gave it a real chance. And I think that we can’t know what’s going to happen, maybe it all blows up in our faces, but at least we tried and we’ll know and we won’t spend our lives wondering what if.” Tears blur your vision as you leave it all out there, words that feel like they’ve wanted to tumble out of you forever just keep coming, faster and faster, your hands gesturing wildly with each one, stepping closer and closer to him.
“And I want to try so badly Steve. I want to hold your hand in public and go on dates and tease you and make memories with you and I think we could fall in love, I think I was already starting to. Like real love. Like that undeniable, scary, kind of love, and I’m sorry you’ll have to wait for me to get there to say it, but if you give it a chance…I think we’re worth the wait. I don’t care that I’m saying all of this too late, I don’t care that you’re getting married because at least I said it and if you wanna stand up there and say I do to her in May then that’s fine, I can move on, maybe, I think, because at least I’ll know I tried and-”
“Woah, woah, woah.”
Steve grabs your shaking hands, interrupting you. Cedar and mint hit your nose as you inhale, his cologne lingering on his scarf. His adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. One hand leaves yours, fingers curling under your chin as he murmurs, “I’m not getting married.”
“You’re…” you hiccup a laugh through your tears, “What?”
He tilts his head and clears his throat, repeating it as his thumb brushes a tear from your cheek, fingers squeezing your hand. “I’m not getting married.”
“You’re not getting married,” you repeat it again, quieter, letting the words sink in.
Steve shakes his head no, the back of his knuckles brushing more tears from your cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. “I called it off the day after…after everything.”
“Oh,” you swallow, eyes blinking up at him under wet lashes as the reality of the extremely vulnerable words you practically just shouted at him sit unreciprocated still, unable to be taken back.
Steve’s lips twitch on the right, like he’s fighting a smile, eyebrows furrowed deeper as he sighs, “Yeah. Quit my job too.”
“What? Steve, why, what-”
His fingers trace your jaw as he shakes his head again, rolling his eyes but the smile fighting on his lips wins. “This girl that drives me crazy basically quoted The Notebook scene at me and I decided I’d rather have the life I wanted, have her, or have nothing at all. But I didn’t think she felt the same way, and I wasn’t going to push her again.”
You smile, a laugh bubbling out of you as you shake your head, “You’re crazy about me?”
Steve laughs, his hat bumping yours as your foreheads touch. You drop his hand, both of yours pressing to the soft yellow material against his chest. His breath warm against your cheek as you ask, “So what happens now?”
He pulls away, forehead leaving yours and creating a small space between the two of you, you already want closed again. The lights make the green almost disappear from his eyes, golden, sunshine pulling you in and making you beg for more of it to light you up, a tether, your gravity, just like they’ve always been.
Steve clears his throat, hands reaching up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing over the apples of them as he declares, “Well, rule number one, we tell Robin.”
“Deal,” you tilt your head, playing his game. Your hands slowly crawl up his chest, wrapping around his neck, playing with the collar of the coat as you throw out, “Pet names?”
Steve nods dramatically, pinching his eyes closed, “Oh yeah. So many.” He leans in, nose tracing up the line of yours slowly, foreheads knocking together as the tips of your shoes meet. “I’m gonna call you babe and honey loudly at the grocery store for no reason other than I can.”
“Yeah?” Your top lip hits his with the lift of your smile and question.
He nods. “Yeah.”
Steve’s hands cup the back of your head, tilting you open for him as he ducks down, mouth hovering above yours as he speaks like you’re the only two people in the world.
“But right now? Right now I’m gonna kiss you.”
“Which bad 90s rom com you steal that one out of, Harrington?” You whisper against his lips.
Steve smiles, gaze tracing the curve of your lips then meeting yours as he takes a deep breath.
“You liked it.”
And maybe the marquee lights twinkle above you a little brighter as you finally meet in a kiss. Maybe snowflakes start drifting down from the clouds lazily, covering everything in a fresh start right at the moment his hands wrap around your waist and pull you impossibly closer, your back arching from the passion of his kiss. Maybe a terrible top forty song blares out of someone’s car as it drives past, your foot popping off the pavement a little when he pulls away for a breath only to lean and kiss you deeper and slower.
The universe can’t guarantee anything for you and Steve, but it is giving you a chance. There is nothing, not even love, that can keep away the inevitable struggle, heartbreak, or loss life will be sure to throw at you. Which is scary, but doing it together, his hand in yours, makes it less so. Yes, it won’t always be easy, but the hard work you’ll both put in when it isn’t, means it’s real. There is no one other than yourselves who can decide if your relationship could be like the movies. The two of you are the only ones that can calculate if there’s still time for a happy ending in your story. Only Steve and you can be certain that the fear of heartbreak or pain is worth taking the risk, because if you don’t, if you let the chance slip away, you’ll never know if one day you could have called it love.
WCIL Taglist: @loveshotzz @myobmaya @sweetsweetjellybean @pastel-pillows @littlesubbyflower @johnricharddeacy @freezaz123 @selfdeprecatingnerd @big-ope-vibes @manda-panda-monium @hellkaisersangel @yogizzz @soulmatecashton @happytimeunicorns @mandyjo8719 @lunarxeclipse @buckleylips @beckkthewreck @differentdeputyfishpaper @supardupar @micheledawn1975 @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sagelittleplace @totally-bogus-timelady @steves-babysitter @fallinginlovewithqueue @aftermidnightwriting @omgshesinsane @pootcullen @definitionwanderlust @nostalgiafool @palmtreesx3 @scoopshxrrington @live-the-fangirl-life @eddiesguitarskills @mannstarkey @keepingitlokiii @silkholland @redbarn1995
#we'll call it love#modern!steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington series#steve harrinton fic#stranger things fanfic
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Could you do Alejandro for any day 26-28? I couldn't choose so🤷
day 28 - POSSESSIVE
Alejandro Vargas
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genre: smut
mdni
Oh, Alejandro is a passionate lover. Poor dude just can't get enough of you. He is very loving and doesn't want to be separated from you for an extended period of time. He brings you to some more casual meetings he has with the 141 or Los Vaqueros.
He will, of course, make sure to not let any danger close to you. He avoids going with you to meetings that involve you meeting other people than he knows and trusts. He doesn't want you to get affiliated with his work life, Rudy being the only exception.
He isn't really mean about it. He just doesn't let you go with him. All playfully. He loves to play fight with you. It's fun, and it's the least aggressive way to make you stay home.
This month is different than the others. An enemy task force has infiltrated Las Almas in hopes of finding Alejandro and Rudy. They wanted to use them for interrogation purposes.
Fortunately, this task force didn't really have their plan settled. Thanks to this, they went in blind, and Price was able to get intel on them. Since no one else other than Alejandro and Rudy, plus their families, was in danger, Price decided to let them look for the two men while keeping a watch on them.
They didn't want to cause any harm to any other civilians. No one saw a problem with Price's plan. Alejandro came home early that day, telling you to pack essentials. You panicked at first, knowing that there might be danger thanks to his job. But after he calmly explained why you needed to get out of Las Almas for a while, you followed his instructions.
He brought you to a military base where you met Rudy's family. While you were talking to Rudy's older sister, Alejandro was arguing with Price. Price wanted you in the meetings because they discovered you were also one of the targets.
Alejandro argued for the sake of your privacy and just because he didn't want dangerous, strange men in the same room with you. Price eventually convinced him to have at least one of the 141 with you at all times. But when everyone was on a meeting, you had to be there too.
And that's how you ended up in the meeting room with Alejandro on your left. He wanted you on his right side to make sure he could act in time in case of an attack. You finally realised why Alejandro didn't want you there.
Two dude's eyes on you. They were both equally deranged. They haven't seen someone as cute as you in a long while. They have been surrounded by rough, sweaty men for months, after all. One was half checking you out and half paying attention to what Price was saying.
The other one was watching you like a hawk. You glanced at Alejandro, but he looked like he hadn't noticed. You didn't want to bother them, so you kept quiet.
Alejandro led you to your room and chatted with you about the mission. He had you next to his side, so why not engage in some small talk. He wanted to get some coffee, so he gave you the keys to lock yourself in the room.
After he walked out of the room, you locked the door just like he instructed you. A few minutes later, you heard knocking on the door. You went to open it for Alejandro. You were putting the keys into the lock but stopped immediately. You noticed that it took him a strangely short time to get the coffee.
You got all of your logical brain cells working and just decided to look through the peephole. To your surprise, the man standing in front of your door really was Alejandro. You opened the door ready, already asking him how did it take him such a short time to make the coffee. But something stopped you from saying the full sentence.
His hands were bloody, but he wasn't wounded. He said with a smile, "Ghost made coffee for Soap and Gaz, but forgot that they were on a jog, so I just decided to take them both so as to not waste."
"And Ghost wasn't questioning why are your hands bloody?" You asked him. Alejandro put the two coffees and something else on the bedside table before turning to you. "He helped me when they walked in."
You stood there surprised, realizing that he must have noticed at that time. He walked up to you and lifted you off the ground on the bed. He sat above you and continued with his story. "He held the other one in place when I took care of the bigger asshole."
You were on your back. You looked at his pants and understood where was this conversation heading. Before letting him do whatever he needed to do, you decided to look at the bedside table. You wondered about what he put there.
What you noticed were the IDs of the two dudes. You chuckled to yourself for thinking that Alejandro wouldn't notice. "Whatcha did to them?" You asked while he was already taking your shirt off. "Bashed one's head over a counter, chocked the second one."
He was kissing you and smiling, knowing you're his and his only. This view was only for his eyes to see. And he wouldn't let any other man get to you. He was a little upset that you thought he would let them get away with that.
He just decided to fuck it into you. To make sure you remember he won't leave you behind. You wouldn't be on his dick right now if he didn't even love you enough to save you.
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