#but the first time someone’s protest on why she shouldn’t do that was that she was a girl

[verityandcourage]

I finally put words on why chivalry makes me so mad, and must immediately write it down before I forget. 

I don’t mind politeness, but chivalry isn’t people being polite to people. I can’t do it back. It implies a helplessness that I hate. Only boys are allowed to be chivalrous. But it isn’t just politeness that I have to fight tooth and nail to return, it’s an exchange. You open the door, and I must be a lady. 

Okay, and it isn’t chivalry I’m really annoyed at. But chivalry is a part of the package that keeps a friend from demonstrating a pressure point on my shoulder that makes my arm go numb just because he’s a boy, and I’m a girl. It’s part of what keeps a distance between people, and keeps reminding everyone involved that there are Social RulesTM that must be observed. Ergh 

[amywritesthings]

in the wrong. / levi x f!reader

for @levievent #levimonth24. (day one: pre-canon, first time)

pairing: gang leader!levi ackerman x military police!reader word count: 2.4k summary: You're Military Police. He's public enemy number one. Getting involved with one another is wrong.

tags: 18+ MINORS DNI! pre-aot, in the canon of 'a choice with no regrets', smut, enemies to lovers, military brutality mention, first time, bottom!levi, virgin!levi credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

And so it goes—

There’s no disputing if waiting here in the dead of night is right or wrong.

Leaving your post, forcing your colleagues to pick up the slack — it’ll catch up with you eventually.

Military Police stationed within the Underground City is about as much of an oxymoron as it comes. You see the irony of walking these streets as the symbols of order when it’s a place that thrives in disorder. 

Your superiors don’t wish to save these people.

You — your squadron — will do nothing here.

(But he could.)

Meeting with the leader of the most notorious gang in the city started out as an accident, really. 

You’d minded yourself down here, still trying to do your job when you could: helping elderly people walk their rotting groceries to their door; aiding a young child who found themselves lost, only to witness the dilapidated home they came from; smuggling your own rations down from the surface to feed the sick.

In their eyes — wrong.

In his — confusion.

If you ever came into contact with the perpetrator known as Levi, then you were meant to engage.

Albeit fast on his feet and even faster with a weapon, his ever-growing group of goons were the Military Police’s biggest enemy.

You’d just spotted a redhead doing her best to creep up one of the staircases towards the surface, assuming no one was watching.

There are people up there, you remember saying.

Her wide eyes stared back at you with uncertainty, like perhaps getting her attention was a trick to set her up, but you’d managed to grab her by the scruff of her dirtied vest.

The small girl made a noise of protest, but you did your best to press a finger to your lips:

Silent.

Pulling her back into the shadows with you had been the smart move — the unit at the top of the stairs trudged down the stairs and into the Underground pathway, presumably to cause trouble.

They always did.

You held onto the stranger until the unit disappears, letting go only once the place is clear. 

The girl turned around, seemingly breathless. “You… why?”

You didn't know.

“I don’t know,” you confessed, blinking between her face and the pathway. Paranoid. “Those two are pieces of work. Nasty. Would’ve had your damn head on a platter.”

“So you saved my life?” she asked, and the musical naivety of her voice squeezed your aching stomach.

“It wasn’t that noble,” you promised softly. “Just… be more careful.”

She realized as seconds pass: you’re letting her go.

There’s nothing to arrest her for.

The people down here suffer enough.

When she left, you thought it was the last time you’d ever see her.

.

.

— —

.

.

  It isn’t.

.

.

— —

.

.

  “The hell is an MP doing here, Isa?” 

You can’t say. You’re not sure.

The redhead, a common recurring figure in your time patrolling the Underground, seems to have taken a liking to you when she surely shouldn’t.

Isabel Magnolia, you learn, is her name.

Talking to you about her life, asking questions about the surface, wondering if there’s a better life up there—

She’s a part of a found family she definitely shouldn’t be telling you about.

You explain that, while the sun is beautiful, the surface isn’t much better sometimes.

If there’s a better life, then clearly you wouldn’t know it.

You’re stuck down here, too, whether you’d like to admit it or not.

Perhaps by choice — you enlisted for a reason — but nonetheless stuck.

She’s so cheerful. Trusting. 

You hate that for her.

(Someone could take advantage. Doesn’t she know that?)

Yet when Isabel grabs your hand one day and excitedly pulls you down an alleyway, telling you she has to show you something, you wonder if this is the moment where your stupidity catches up to you with a final blow to the head.

So it begs the question while you’re standing in an oddly pristine, clean-to-the-edges apartment in the middle of the city where two boys stare at you like you’re the devil incarnate:

What the hell is an MP doing here?

An ashy-haired boy yelps from his spot at a round dining table, catching a second dark-haired boy’s attention. He whips around, the whites of his eyes growing while he stares directly at you.

Immediately you recognize the cold stare, the raven-black fringe sweeping against them.

A smaller frame for a man but nevertheless daunting.

Billowing white sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His hands are busy scrubbing dishes at the sink of their quaint kitchenette.

The one they call Levi.

“This is the girl who saved me a few months ago,” Isabel chirps like it’s nothing, happily tugging you further into the apartment.

Your uniform feels constricting, like it’s threatening to choke you out.

“You never said it was a goddamn MP, Isa,” the lankier boy whisper-shouts as he stands from the table, his head whipping between the other two. “Levi? The hell do we do?”

Levi’s silent, observing you.

“Isabel, I should go,” you murmur to your odd friend, looking over the ginger warily. “They’re right. I shouldn’t be here.”

“But why not?” Isabel asks with confusion. “You’re not like them. Furlan, she’s really not, she’s actually really—”

“You’re the one who saved her ass from MPs?”

Levi’s voice, smooth like honey and deep like a rumble, cuts through your panic.

You turn your chin to regard him, lips parted with an apology you shouldn’t owe.

“She was getting too close to the stairwell,” you confess softly to him, clenching your fists at your sides. “I know how the MPs treat people down here. I didn’t — I couldn’t let something happen to her.”

“Why?” he asks abruptly, eyes narrowing.

Isn’t that the question of the hour:

Why are you trying to get yourself fired and tossed down here with the rest of them?

“Because it… was the right thing to do.”

He makes a noise, something of a tch, before picking up a fourth tea cup.

.

.

— —

.

.

  If your colleagues knew you spent the better part of your shifts in the Underground talking to their number-one public enemy, with your backs against adjacent brick walls — you facing the street, him in the shadows of an alleyway — they wouldn’t hesitate.

Execution style, side by side.

You confess the routes of your brethren.

You warn them of the dangers of different colleagues that want nothing more than to hurt people, to use their position of power for worse.

It takes time — months upon months — but eventually his group grows stronger than your unit.

They could very well kill you themselves, if they wanted.

Maybe you’re like Isabel with the desperation to connect.

Maybe you find yourself hating the animals your colleagues become under the guise of an endless night.

Levi meets with you weekly, if not daily, by this point.

For the good of his friends, he claims. Nothing more.

You don’t blame him.

(Yet the more you talk to him, learn about what he’s built, what he’s about, the less you feel like returning to the sun.)

.

.

— —

.

.

  He likes tea.

That much you’ve gathered in your time sitting in the living kitchenette of their apartment.

You’ll never forget the change in his expression, usually so stoic and emotionless, when you produced a small bag from under your emerald cloak late one evening.

“The traders down here don’t carry these blends,” you tell him, pushing the bag towards him.

His eyes squint, observing the brown pouch with confusion, before reaching to delicately unravel the tie holding it together.

Levi lets out a gentle huff when the aroma hits him, face smoothing with recognition.

Fresh leaves. 

“Why?”

It’s a question you’ve even asked yourself.

You get things for Furlan and Isabel all the time, their requests for surface goods fairly frequent, but—

“Because you never ask for anything,” you confess. “And it’s the least I can do.”

“But why?” he questions again, softer this time.

His gaze flickers to yours.

Your throat clenches with the truth.

“I don’t know.”

A lie.

.

.

— —

.

.

  You’re meant to be patrolling the streets of the Underground City in the dead of night.

Another lie.

All you’ve learned to do is hide, steal, and lie.

Yet nothing feels closer to the truth than Levi letting you into the small, cramped apartment.

Opening his home to you.

The enemy.

“Furlan and Isabel are elsewhere tonight,” he confesses under his breath when he closes the door.

“Elsewhere?” you ask him quietly. “Are they safe?”

“You would know if they weren’t.”

You step forward, anticipating the same song and dance you’ve played for over a year now.

Instead of dancing with you, playing the game, Levi stays put. 

It forces you chest to chest, eye to eye, and suddenly you realize just how blue those gray eyes really are.

Stormy, like a sky he’ll never see.

Something shifts in his expression. Something lighter, tangible, as he takes a slow inhale through his nose.

You shift on impulse, angling closer, until you feel the heat of his face.

“Can’t,” he states, like you know what he’s saying.

By now, you do.

“I know,” you whisper, and those eyes dart lower.

Cheeks.

Nose.

Lips.

“Shouldn’t,” he argues to no one but himself when he leans closer. 

His breath tickles your face.

“Wrong,” you agree, accidentally brushing your lips to his.

A single act opens the floodgates.

Both pairs of hands jump as your lips smash into one another’s.

His palm cradles the back of your head while yours guides his cheek closer, directing the angle of the kiss.

With a purposeful push, he slams you into the front door, caging you in and causing stars to flash behind your eyelids.

You’re already undoing the straps of your uniform with haste — he may have stolen ODM gear in the time you’ve known him, but you’re not confident he knows how to disrobe a military uniform.

He seems grateful, because he grunts against your lips and flicks his tongue against your lower lip in thanks. You part your lips obediently.

Can’t, but you’re still hopping up into his arms the second you free your lower half of white uniform trousers.

Shouldn’t, but he catches you with ease, digging his free hand into the flesh of your ass while he pivots and walks with you in his arms.

Wrong, but he drops down to his couch anyway, letting you sit in his lap.

There’s no time for decorum.

His hand blindly dips down your lower belly and slips under the fabric of your panties, groaning when he realizes you’ve been wet since you saw him.

You make the tiniest noise, a strangled moan at best, and you feel it right against your lips:

A smirk. 

Brief and fleeting, but you felt it.

Lazily dragging his fingertips in a circle around your clit, your breath becomes stagnated. Shaky.

Your bare thighs clench around his, trying to keep your wits about you, but his hand only proceeds faster to ruin those efforts.

“Off,” you weakly state, reaching between you to pathetically tug at his own trousers.

Levi pulls away from your mouth, staring up at you in his lap. “That’s—”

“What I want,” you interrupt, and you see his throat bob with a swallow.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, and it feels like the closest you’ve ever gotten to knowing the essence of him.

“You don’t have to,” you promise. “I do.”

Once, fumbling at the cadet barracks.

It was awkward and quick and unremarkable.

Yet the way Levi’s eyes widen with recognition, you already know this is what you want — him, every fragment of him, hidden away from the world.

Pushing him to the couch cushions, you raise your hips to help him push down his trousers and underwear.

His cock springs free and his hisses at the contrast of the cool air and his hot skin.

You take advantage of the moment, wrapping your hand around him.

The way he whines when your hand leisurely pumps will be burned into the back of your skull.

“Are you sure?”

His question manages to weave itself through the hazy maze of your mind.

Glancing down at him, you note how flushed his cheeks have become; how his chest rises and falls under that flowing white shirt. He looks utterly wrecked without having to do much of anything.

“Are you sure?” you ask in return, giving your answer rhetorically.

Panting, the dark-haired boy nods.

Certain.

So are you.

“Just touch me,” you tell him, and Levi leaps at the damn opportunity to do so.

He raises up from the couch to loop his palm around your neck, dragging you down with him into a searing kiss. You moan into it, gently nudging the tip of him to your entrance.

When his hand returns to your clit, eager to draw those noises out of you, it only makes it that much easier to slowly push yourself down onto his length.

Both of your mouths drop open, wide with a soundless shout, as you ease him fully into you.

Wrong.

Over and over, the word plays in your mind.

Levi groans as you drag your body up, then down, beginning a tentative rhythm.

Wrong.

Nothing fills you like him.

Nothing fills you like this.

He lets you set the pace as you fuck him on his couch, the sounds of your pleasure mixing in the midnight air.

Faster.

Harder.

His hand grips your hip so hard it could leave a bruise.

You don’t care.

He groans a semblance of your name, something he rarely does, and squeezes harder.

Close.

If he’s never done this, then you know he won’t last long.

With your own climax coming at you with a vengeance, you can’t find a reason to care.

Suddenly you feel it — the wave rises so fast and falls that you don’t have time to warn him.

Within seconds you cum around him, violently shuddering around him as you cry against his mouth.

The sheer force of it causes Levi to gasp sharply, hips slamming abruptly into you so he’s buried deep—

He doesn’t have time to warn you, either.

He cums just as hard, sealing the loud moan with a kiss to your lips.

You still your hips, spent — his arms catch you when you crumble against his chest, desperately trying to catch your breath.

You’ve passed it: the point of no return, forced to confront a choice with no regrets.

The aftermath, euphoria clouding judgment, hasn’t quite hit yet.

Wrong.

(Neither of you care.)

.

author's note:

Thank you so much for reading! This one shot was unbeta'd and written in two hours so I hope this insane "I woke up with this idea and really wanted to participate" story made you as sweaty as it made me this morning.

[writingmeraki]

kiss the shit out of you — k.mg drabble.

❝ in which you thought there'd never be a time when you would experience first-hand jealousy but turns out you aren't an exception to this emotion.

( or in which your boss seungcheol loves to find new ways to push your buttons. and push you towards mingyu too. you might just punch him or thank him. )

pairing: secret!agent mingyu x secret!agent reader, established stage. genre : fluff, angstish. warnings : jealousy, mentions of bars and drinks, death threats, no actual kissing guys im sorry

a/n : pri comeback with another secret agent mingyu drabble. who cheered. not a full on comeback but hey i picked this up from my abandoned clusters of wips and welp this is how it turned out, let me know what you think !! also urm if the writing is a lil yk wonky pls bare w me it's been a long while <3 also the summary probs sucks my bad g again it's been aaa whileee :DDDDDD

word count : 1.8k

“I want to kill you.” 

You glared at Cheol as you clenched your fist to your side resisting the urge to punch the shit-eating grin off his face. 

Not an ideal sentence to tell your boss but the situation he’d kept you in was going the way he predicted and not how you thought it would. 

It started earlier in the day when he called Mingyu and you along with Chan and Seokmin in to do a mission which would require disguises and putting on an act. It was simple really he said, you all had to attend a gala, which had the member of a gang you’d been trying to catch attending as well. 

Butter him up, a few drinks later and he’d let the information you seeked slip out with ease. This particular member was one who caused a lot of mishaps, knowingly or unknowingly, he was hard to track but this was a sure tip as his name was also on the guest list.

It all seemed okay until he told you the twist. You would be the servers along with Chan and Seokmin. You looked at him in confusion wondering if he forgot Mingyu was also called in and was right beside you also wondering something similar. 

“What about him?”

“Oh right. He’s going to be attending as a couple with Yura.” He said it nonchalantly while looked towards you,

“It shouldn’t be a bother to you right? Considering it’s just a few hours and most importantly for the job.” He had a smug look on his face to which you slowly narrowed your eyes at him. Mingyu was going to oppose, but you shushed him. 

“It’s for the job Gyu, it wouldn’t matter to me.” You knew he had more to say but he just frowned and nodded at your words.

You knew what card he had been playing, you could remember him asking you that what if there came a time your partner would have to act as a couple with someone else would you have gotten jealous and you also remember you scoffing at him saying, it would be for a mission only anyways, why would you be? He protested saying it was natural to feel jealous but you told him that then you would need to get a grip instead of being unprofessional. 

Now you could feel your words bite you back as you tried not to glare at the way she seemed more than excited to be with ‘the most sought out’ agent.

You scoffed at yourself, feeling an even worse guilt at being jealous. The kind where you trusted him, but you couldn’t help the ugly emotion to rise up and as time went it seemed to rile up.

It was going to be one of the rookies, her first big assignment being this. Her name was Yura, from what you recalled. 

Your relationship with Mingyu was not exactly public. Again it was your idea. It seemed all your ideas were eventually coming to bite you in the back. Maybe this was your karma for something.

Eventually looking away from the couple, you sighed as you sat down by the bar.

“Oye, you aren’t supposed to sit, you’re the server here.” Before he could speak further, Chan elbowed your boss to which he glared at him but eventually gulped a little when he saw the look on your face. 

Now, Choi Seungcheol was no coward. But he knew better than to already fuel a fire that might just burn him alive. Quite literally. He thinks he’s spoken enough when he sees your stare harden.

“Haha, or not, yeah um…continue to sit as you wish, besides we’re just back up here…I’ll uh, I’ll go finish the um…cleaning the glasses.” 

“Get me a drink. Strong.”  

And as your pretend bartender colleague made you an actual whisky on the rocks — training required prior days to mission — your eyes automatically once again drifted off to him. 

Your partner, your boyfriend, highlighting the your factor harshly in your thoughts as you looked at the pretend couple. 

Jealousy, you learnt that day, is an ugly emotion but a fascinating one too. It might slowly chip away at your self esteem and build on a pile of undeserving guilt but it somehow helps in emphasising just how much one means to the other. 

It was a horrible pit at the bottom of your stomach but an unflattering brush in the depth of your heart. Both making you more confused and therefore, anger being the only emotion that would make sense. 

You could hear her giggles as she leaned in closer to his side, her arm practically cushioned between his and you clenched your molars in the assumed anger. 

It was as if he could sense your gaze. He always could, since a long time actually. As though his mind seemed to embed you, your presence right into his unconscious to the point he could practically feel your gazes on him. 

Maybe an exaggeration but he thinks when it comes to you, it all seemed to fall less.  

His eyes flickered to see where you were directing yours at, and immediately he had to put in his all to not just move away. He was trying his all honestly, the reason he accepted was because he was sure you were also okay with it. 

Professionally. Of course.

Emotionally? Personally? 

You may have just been on the edge of punching someone. Seungcheol, you wish. 

The way you were looking seemed nonchalant but this was the man that loved – loves you. Of course he knew when you were anything but. 

Before you could even move your attention to him from where it had darted to – Yura subtly moved her hand above Mingyu’s. It was so subtle but you were very observant, unfortunately in this case, hand clenching around the now almost empty glass of alcohol. 

It seemed in a flash, he abruptly pulled away, murmuring an excuse of getting another drink and you rolled your eyes at the pet names that smoothly rolled out of Yura’s tongues for him. You could feel your sanity level drop at that point. 

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself as you shut your eyes for a second, that this was a mission. A job. You couldn’t, shouldn’t fuck this up because you can’t keep your newly acquired emotions in check—

A hand on top of yours was the next thing you felt. And even before you opened your eyes to face the owner of the hand, you already knew. 

“Hey.” Minyu softly whispered, facing affront while you turned your head in his direction. He was close but not enough to seem suspicious, hand being hidden from the view of the others at the table. 

Even though it was just a small touch, he kept it there as he spoke out to Chan. Mumblings of the drinks, a few details about the information he managed to get. 

Yet all you could focus on was the warmth that radiated from his hand above yours. The way his hair was styled, the way his longer strands stood out perfectly, the way his pinkish lips moved as he spoke, eyes briefly shifting to yours when he did and it seemed he noticed your blatant checking out as one corner of his lip rose up. 

Dammnit, his suits were always your weakness. 

“Hi” He tried again, briefly shifting his head in your direction which seemed to snap you out of your daze as you blinked a few times.

“Hey.” You turned your hand that was facing down, and he briefly looked over and intertwined his fingers through yours.

Chan hastily looked over as he made the drinks, deciding he could probably slow down making the few drinks, and not like he was an expert at being fast anyway.

“Be careful.” He whispered to your pair, to which you looked at him and rolled your eyes but gave a short nod. 

“Are you alright?” As Mingyu asked, you froze up for a moment, wondering if your obvious discomfort was already known to him. 

Gulping, you nodded because it seemed easier to nod than to let your words out in fear of stumbling over reasons for your discomfort. 

Jealousy, was again, odd. It made you ashamed, a lump in the throat due to feeling like perhaps you were just overthinking it all.

You didn’t even realise you were blatantly showing your nervousness, eyes looking at anywhere but his and mulling your bottom lip. 

“You don’t need to worry over anything, ‘s going fine okay?”

“I can see that.” 

The words came out sharply than intended, and he blinked owlishly, eyebrow raising at you with an emotion that seemed familiar to both confusion and wonder in his eyes. 

“You don’t seem okay though.” He bit the bullet and told you his actual thoughts. He would have even said his assumptions but he did not want to tread too far. 

“I’ll be fine, stop worrying about me. Your girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate that.” 

Aha. There it was.

He scanned your face. The scoff was prominent as you narrowed your eyes ahead.

“You know you're the only one that matters to me right?” And even though he was tempted to tease you at the moment, he figured he'd save it for later. 

His hand squeezed yours, as if to amplify his words, their meaning to you. How much he truly meant them, he hoped that it would somehow reach to you through the simple motion of squeezing your hand tighter.

And somehow, he knows it did when the crease between your brow slowly disappeared, when the scowl on your face dropped and a seemingly exhausted sigh escaped you.

Jealousy was…tiring.

“Yes, I know.”

Without thinking, he leaned in closer to you, mouth grazing your ear as he spoke, the sudden warmness of his breathing so close making you shudder slightly.

“Tell you what baby? You can simply kiss the out of me when we get back. You know, remove all your anger, I heard it's a great exercise.”

The abruptness of the statement made you pull away and you couldn't help but giggle at his words, feeling a lot lighter than previously. A warm feeling spreads on your cheeks at the thought of his pink lips captivating yours. 

And of course, no one in this world could surprise you the way Kim Mingyu does. 

Well two could play at this.

Leaning in closer, your eyes gleamed with an equally mischievous flair to his, you whispered, only for his ears.

“As if I need permission to kiss the shit out of you, I hope you know I can and will do it anytime, anywhere.” 

His smile turned into a smirk as he glanced back at the table, seeing how his colleague was occupying the others, knowing he could go off for a few.

Looking at you determinedly, he stood up, pushing his hand forward,

“Bathroom break?” 

And of course, anywhere Kim Mingyu would go, you'd too. 

Placing your head in his, you nodded with a chuckle at how unserious this was getting,

“Sure.”

Lucky for the both of you, it seemed you were good at keeping your words. And kissing of course. 

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[moonpascal]

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER FOUR I series masterlist I wc: 3.4k

WARNINGS:

hurt/angst, lonelines, lots of dialogue

AUTHORS NOTE:

thank you to @amiableness my love as always gave me the encouragement i need for these things!

sorry for the long wait! i played hogwarts legacy for the first time and got sucked in. but it did help me with visioning locations and everything. hopefully chapter four was worth the wait (idk feels like a filler lol)

The past few days had been agonizingly unproductive since you realized the extent of your memory loss—entire chunks of the last year and a half simply gone. 

Hermione, stubborn as ever, refused to tell you what you were missing, no matter how much you begged. You knew she was hiding something, and it frustrated you to no end. These were your memories, after all—you had every right to know what had been erased.

The memory that played in the great hall never left you. You couldn’t be sure if it was a fragment of what was lost or just your mind playing tricks on you. Either way, it felt personal, too personal to share with her without knowing for certain if it was real.

But every time you tried to push through and remember more, it was as if a wall slammed down in your mind, sending a jarring, almost painful shock that stopped you cold. Why had this happened to you? Was it an accident, or had someone targeted you? The questions were maddening.

Caught in a loop of pacing and rubbing your temples in frustration, you accidentally kicked your trunk, sending the pile of jumpers and a tie sprawling across the floor. Huffing in annoyance, you bent down to fold them again, ignoring the nagging sense of familiarity they stirred. You were too irritated, too overwhelmed to connect it.

Just as you finished folding the last item, Grace walked in, looking thoroughly exhausted.

“Tough class?” you asked, trying to shift your focus.

She let out a small, tired laugh as she dropped her bag at the foot of her bed. “I wish. Just boys not taking no for an answer,” she sighed.

You shot her a sympathetic look, knowing the feeling all too well. “Wouldn’t happen to be a certain Slytherin whose clothes I keep tripping over, would it?” you teased, holding up the pile.

Grace gave you a sharp, confused look for a moment, and you worried you’d said the wrong thing. But then she forced a smile. “Right! That’s… um, exactly why he’s upset, but he really shouldn’t have left his closet in our dorm,” she said, a nervous edge to her voice.

“Serves him right,” you laughed, before glancing at the clothes again. “But on a serious note, could you possibly return these to him? Or maybe I should just throw them out? They’re taking up space, and I keep knocking them over.”

“Oh,” Grace said, eyes widening like she’d just been reminded of something important. She grabbed the pile from you a bit too quickly. “Of course! I’ll do that right now.”

Before you could protest or tell her she didn’t need to rush, she was already out the door, leaving you standing there, even more confused than before.

In her hurried state, she might have noticed the pesky tie that slipped off again. 

You knew you needed to study and catch up on your missing assignments, but any excuse to procrastinate sounded more appealing. Weighing your options for a brief moment, you grabbed the tie and left the room, hoping to catch up with her.

Exiting your out of the common room and bounding down the stairs, you guessed Grace was heading toward the Slytherin area.

Hopefully, you could catch her but luck wasn’t on your side—she was on a mission, and you didn’t spot her once as you made your way through the castle.

The dungeons weren’t a place you frequented, so you were surprised when you managed to navigate there on your first try. 

Upon arriving, you saw Theo trudging down the steps, the pile of clothes in his arms. You faltered, a strange pang coursing through you for reasons you couldn’t explain.

You considered a quick escape, but Theo called your name before you had a chance to move.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, a touch of surprise in his voice. You didn’t have any classes together today, so it was unexpected to see you. He shifted the clothes under his arm, stepping closer.

“I tried to catch Grace—she dropped this,” you awkwardly gestured to the tie in your hand, “but I guess I found the culprit.”

Theo’s eyes widened at the implication, his heart sinking a bit. “No, these aren’t mine,” he quickly corrected.

You shot him a skeptical look. “So, you and Grace aren’t... involved?” you asked, waving your hand in a vague motion.

Theo scrunched his face in disgust, shaking his head. “No, never. She’s just a friend. She gave these to me to return to one of the guys.”

“Right,” you said, though still not entirely convinced. “Well, make sure he gets his tie back, too.” You draped it over the pile in his arms.

“Right, of course. Thank you for bringing it,” Theo smiled, and any doubt you had about him lying slowly drifted away. You found yourself staring at him, that smile triggering a flash of a memory—the same one from before.

Could it have been real? Theo seemed different now, kinder than you remembered. And how had you never noticed how... easy on the eyes he was?

“Woah, Tesoro, are you okay?” Theo’s voice brought you out of your thoughts, and you realized he had a hand on your shoulder and another gently cupping your cheek. The clothes he’d been holding were forgotten on the ground. 

His face was so close to yours that you instinctively took a step back, but the absence of his touch left you yearning.

“I’m sorry, what?” you said, dazed and confused, not fully processing why he was asking.

“Your nose—it’s bleeding. Let’s get you to sit down,” he said urgently, grabbing the tie and guiding you to a nearby bench. You almost tripped from how sudden it was.

“I’m fine, really, Theodore,” you insisted, brushing it off. “This is probably the fourth one today.” The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted it.

“Fourth?” His tone grew tense, his eyes full of concern. “Are they accompanied by anything else? Headaches? Nausea? Fainting spells?” He inspected you, wiping the blood from your upper lip with the now-ruined tie.

You shrugged, trying to seem unbothered. “Not all the time. I don’t think it’s that serious.”

Theo, however, looked far from reassured. “That’s not normal,” he muttered your name, his worry etched deeply into his face.

“Theo, really, I’m fine. Just a little tired,” you tried to comfort him, but his expression barely softened. Hearing you use his name, though, seemed to snap him back. He pulled back slightly, still visibly rattled. 

“Right, sorry,” he stammered, dropping his hands from you as if your touch burned him. 

“I appreciate the concern, though,” you said, genuinely touched by how much he seemed to care. A stark contrast from the Theo you were used to. “Could we talk later? I have this thing that I can’t seem to figure out.” 

He blinked, seemingly taken aback by your suggestion. In truth, you were a bit surprised by it yourself.

“I have Quidditch practice tonight, but how about tomorrow?” he offered, a bit nervously.

“Perfect,” you grinned. “See you tomorrow then, Theodore.”

He smiled in return, and for a moment, you found yourself wanting to stay and just stare at him. Another part of you still hesitated, wary of his past actions and the memories you couldn’t access. But maybe he had the answers. 

You watched him walk away, a slight spring in his step as he bent to pick up the discarded clothes. He disappeared into the Slytherin common room, the snake door sliding shut. The sight surprisingly comforted you. 

You sat for a moment before finally rising from the bench and starting the walk back to your common room. Your mind was a tangled mix of questions, emotions, and fleeting familiarities that refused to come into focus. It felt like your brain was in overdrive, struggling to fill in blanks without knowing where to start.

The walk back to your dorm felt like a blur, your mind racing with thoughts of how to piece together the gaps in your memory. You needed answers, but the trio seemed determined to keep you out of the loop, offering vague reassurances that only deepened your frustration.

You hated the way they looked at you—like you were fragile, something to be handled with care. It made you feel small, like you weren’t capable of understanding your own situation. The growing silence around what was happening to you was suffocating, and your dorm had become the only place where you didn’t feel on edge.

As you spotted Harry ahead in the corridor, you sped up, determined to find a distraction from the overwhelming pressure of your missing memories. You bumped him lightly with your shoulder, forcing a smile. “Hey, stranger. Haven’t seen you in a while. Want to sneak off to Hogsmeade?”

Harry hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Trouble, I would, really, but I’ve got Quidditch practice tonight.”

Your smile faltered, a flicker of confusion crossing your face. If Slytherin had practice, there was no way Gryffindor did too. The rivalry between the two houses was so intense they could barely play fair in an actual game, let alone share the pitch for practice. You opened your mouth to question him, but Harry quickly cut you off.

“Tomorrow, yeah? We can go then. It’s Saturday, so no sneaking required.” Giving you an awkward smile. 

“Right. Tomorrow.” You nodded, but the unease gnawed at you. First Theo, now Harry. The feeling of being lied to—it stung more than you wanted to admit. Harry never hid things from you before, and Theo—well, you didn’t know him well enough to judge, but it still hurt.

You turned away before Harry could say more, heading in the opposite of his direction- mind you was not towards the pitch. 

When you finally reached your dorm and shut the door behind you, the quiet hit you hard. Alone again, the weight of the past few days crashed down. You dropped onto your bed, letting out a shaky breath. The frustration, confusion, and hurt welled up, but you couldn’t bring yourself to cry. You just lay there, staring at the ceiling, feeling more isolated than ever.

No one was being honest with you. They were keeping you at arm’s length, treating you like you couldn’t handle the truth. You were left to fend for yourself, with only half the pieces to a puzzle that seemed impossible to solve. You felt pushed aside, only to be dealt with when it was convenient.

It hurt more than you wanted to admit, and the pity party you were throwing yourself was, for the moment, the only thing that felt comforting.

“Fridays, we’ll go to the Astronomy Tower at midnight. It’ll be our thing.”

The words jolted you awake. You blinked, disoriented, scanning the dark room. The moonlight filtered in softly, casting long shadows. You rubbed your eyes and looked around, hoping to find the source of the voice, but the room was silent. Your roommates’ curtains were drawn, and their steady breathing filled the space.

You lay back, trying to make sense of what you’d heard. Maybe it was a dream. Or maybe, another memory trying to break through the haze?

After tossing and turning for what felt like an eternity, it became clear you weren’t going to be able to fall back asleep. Frustrated, you sighed and threw off the covers, slipping on your shoes. Before you knew it, you were out the door, your curiosity leading you through the corridors.

You tiptoed through the common room, careful not to wake anyone. Without Harry’s cloak, you had to rely on the disillusionment spell to stay hidden, but you knew it wasn’t foolproof. 

You navigated the quiet halls, turning corners and climbing staircases with no real sense of direction, yet somehow you felt like you were being pulled somewhere—guided by the echo of those words.

Soon enough, you found yourself at the base of the Astronomy Tower. You hesitated for a moment, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu before your feet carried you up the winding staircase. The ascent felt both familiar and foreign, like a path you had walked countless times. It felt like your body was moving on its own, like it knew something your mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

When you finally reached the top, you paused. The silence of the tower wrapped around you, and with a quiet exhale, you removed the disillusionment spell, standing under the vast, starry sky.

The silence was broken by a cough, jolting you from your thoughts. You nearly screamed, spinning around to see Theo sitting against the railing, watching you with curious eyes.

“Merlin! Theodore, you scared me!” you hissed, clutching your chest as your heart pounded.

“Sorry,” he chuckled, clearly finding your reaction amusing. You glared at him, but he just smiled.

“What are you doing up here?” you asked, exasperated as you stepped closer to where he was sitting.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he smirked. The teasing tone was so typical of him, and despite everything, it brought you some comfort.

You rolled your eyes. “Needed some air. And you?”

“Something like that,” he shrugged, taking a drag from the cigarette between his fingers.

“You know those things will kill you, right?” you said, deciding to sit down next to him. You tucked your legs beneath you, resting your back against the railing.

“I’ve heard,” he replied, exhaling the smoke away from you before flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with his foot.

You bit your tongue, resisting the urge to lecture him about the littering. “Maybe you should take their advice.”

He chuckled softly humming in response, leaning his head back against the railing, eyes closed. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Strangely, you felt more at ease up here with him than you had in days.

With his eyes closed, you stole a glance at his face—the messy hair, the moles dotting his skin, and those lips… You quickly looked away, mentally scolding yourself.

“So,” he said, grabbing your attention. His gaze so focused it made you avert your eyes again, “what really brought you up here?”

“I’m… not sure,” you admitted, fidgeting with the fraying edge of your skirt. “I thought I heard a voice, but it could’ve been a dream. It said something about Astronomy Tower at midnight, and I got curious.”

You noticed Theo’s jaw clench briefly before relaxing again, making you frown slightly. “And you?” you asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Just needed some quiet,” he said, hesitating for a moment. “But… what was it you wanted to talk about earlier?”

You had nearly forgotten about that. Now that he asked, the words seemed to stick in your throat. You wanted to say you could wait, let him have his moment of peace, but you needed answers.

“Oh, right,” you sighed, unsure of where to start. “I’m not sure how to explain it.”

“Take your time,” Theo reassured, his voice soft, and you were grateful to see no judgment in his eyes.

You took a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. It was hard to know where to even begin.

“Long story short, I lost a chunk of my memories,” you started, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “And the other day, I think I had a flashback of one… with you?”

Theo immediately straightened himself, his attention fully locked on you.

“I was—um, what was your memory about?” he asked, his voice a little shaky as if he was trying to stay calm, but you could sense a bit of hope behind his eyes.

“Don’t laugh,” you warned, giving him a serious look, though a faint smile tugged at your lips. “We were in the Forbidden Forest, I think. I was upset about a letter, and you came along, and we… burned it. Does that sound familiar at all?” You searched his face, praying that this wasn’t just your imagination playing tricks on you.

Theo’s expression tightened, his brow furrowing as if he was choosing his next words very carefully. He looked torn, like saying the wrong thing might somehow hurt you more.

“It’s just… we only had our first conversation a few days ago, right?” you added, trying to lighten the mood despite the tension.

He grimaced slightly, rubbing his eyes. “No,” he sighed, his voice heavy. “That was a memory. That night in the Forbidden Forest—that was the first time we really talked. I was out there trying to clear my head, had a lot going on, and then I heard you. You were crying. I didn’t expect to find you out there.”

“Have we… had more conversations since that night?” you asked cautiously, feeling a strange mix of relief and confusion.

Theo hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, we did.” 

“Could you tell me more? Did we hang out after that? Were we friends or just acquaintances? I just feel so lost and confused. You confirming this is the first bit of clarity I’ve had in days,” your voice cracked, the weight of everything you’d been carrying finally slipping through.

Theo’s face shifted, a mixture of pain and hesitation crossing his features. He looked away briefly, his hands gripping the railing beside him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, careful. “I wish I could tell you everything… I really do.”

He paused, glancing at you before continuing. “But… it’s not that simple.”

Your heart sank at his words, a mix of frustration and sadness settling in your chest. “Why? What’s stopping you?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I don’t want to, believe me. We just don’t know what could happen if we sprung all this information onto you, how the spell or you would react if we try to fill in all the gaps. I mean you’re already having nosebleeds and intense migraines from no one even saying anything. If we push too hard, it could make things worse.”

Theo’s voice softened as he continued. ��I just don’t want to hurt you more than you’re already hurting.” His eyes searched yours, hoping you’d understand.

You looked away, the sting of disappointment dulling the relief you’d felt just moments ago. “But I need to know, Theo. I can’t keep living like this, with these blanks and half-truths. Everyone’s treating me like I’m fragile, like I’ll shatter if they say the wrong thing.” Your voice trembled, a mix of anger and helplessness rising to the surface.

Theo shifted closer, his hand hovering just above yours before he hesitated and withdrew. “I get it,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But trust me when I say this—it’s not that we’re all in on some secret without you. We’re just… trying to keep you safe.”

The vulnerability in his eyes made your heart ache. You could see the struggle there, the pull between wanting to protect you and the desire to be honest. He wasn’t just holding back for the sake of secrecy—it was out of concern for you.

“Safe from what?” you asked, your voice thick with emotion. “I feel more trapped than safe. Like I’m stuck behind this wall, and everyone’s watching me struggle without actually helping.”

Theo exhaled, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you want to hear, but we’re doing the best we can. It’s not that we don’t want to tell you—it’s that we don’t know what’ll happen if we do.”

You bit your lip, feeling that familiar swell of frustration rise again. “So I’m just supposed to wait? Until what? Until my memories come back on their own? What if they never do?”

Theo breath stutters and he hesitates. He’s tried his best not to think of that possibility, that you’ll come back to him and this in time would be a funny memory. “I don’t have all the answers. But you’re not alone in this, okay? Even if it feels like it.” 

You wanted to believe him. Despite everything, you could sense that Theo genuinely cared, even if he couldn’t give you the answers you desperately sought. You looked at him, your chest tightening with the mix of anger and sadness swirling inside you. “I just wish I knew what I was missing.”

Theo nodded slowly, his eyes heavy with the weight of things left unsaid. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you. The cool night air seemed to press down, the weight of your shared secrets hanging in the space between you.

Finally, you nodded, feeling a small sense of comfort in Theo’s promise, even if it couldn’t give you what you needed right now.

If you enjoyed, please please reblog or comment! Your words keep me motivated to write and make me so happy <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[tkwrites]

It Doesn't Matter - Part II - Nico Hischier x ofc

Gif from offside-the-lines

Title: It Doesn’t Matter - Part II

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Beginning: Nico Hischier x Original female character 

Summary: When Nico agreed to pose for Lena as her nude model, he never expected how difficult it would be or where the night would take them. 

Warnings: Slow burn, talk of lots of anxiety, being naked for the sake of art, smut at the end (18+): handjob (f on m) fingering (m on f) 

Word count: 12,200

Comments: This fic has taken on a bit of a mind of its own. It’s much, much longer than I originally envisioned, but I couldn’t bear to cut any of it down. I hope you like it as much as I do and enjoy Nico and Lena finally sharing their feelings for each other. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

It Doesn’t Matter - Part II 

“I feel like I shouldn’t eat before,” Nico said, looking down at the spread of sushi that had just been delivered to the apartment. 

“Why not?” 

“So I’m not…” he patted his stomach affectionately. Not only would he be immortalized in her art, he didn’t want the first time she saw him naked to include being bloated from eating too much rice. 

Lena flipped her hand and shook her head, “the whole point of a nude study is to see a human figure as it is, not as someone who's prepped for three days or something.” 

He looked unconvinced. 

“Do whatever you feel comfortable with, but don’t get hangry on me,” she warned, pointing her chopsticks at him.

Holding up his hands in surrender, he laughed. 

He ate but stopped as soon as he felt the mildest hint of fullness. He could eat more when they were done. 

“So, do I just get naked?” he joked, sliding the plastic takeout containers into the fridge. 

She snorted, but the tips of her ears flared pink. 

“I…kind of hoped…” her voice trailed off. She wasn’t sure if she could just come out and ask for what she wanted. If he were a hired model, she would have asked him to come in a specific outfit, but this was Nico, and he was doing this as a favor. 

“What?” he asked, unsure why she was being so hesitant. He was doing this for her. Didn't she know he would do just about anything for her? “Do you want me to wear something specific?” 

Well, if he was offering. “Can you put on some dark suit pants with a belt?” 

That wasn’t so bad. “Anything else?”

“No socks.” She knew he didn’t love to be barefoot, but for this, they would go against the picture and story she was building in her mind. 

“Does it matter what color boxers?” he asked instead of protesting. He couldn’t remember what color he’d put on that morning. 

Just thinking about seeing him in his boxers made her blush. Which was so stupid. She’d walked into the kitchen just the week before, only to find him walking around in nothing more than a tiny pair of black boxer briefs. They’d hugged his ass so tightly that she could see the muscles shift every time he moved.  

Finally managing to shake her head and desperate to change the subject, she blurted, “I’m going to go set up in the living room.”

Nico smiled at how flustered she was as he went to change. Maybe Nina was right. At the very least, she might not be totally wrong. 

“Maybe I’m just reading too much into it,” Nina had said when he had called his siblings in a panic the day before, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to get through this. “But I think you should give it a try. At least tell her how you feel. You don’t see the way she looks at you.” 

He did see the way she looked at him. The same way she always had. Friendly and open and kind. But that was it. It never went beyond that.

“And what if I tell her and she turns me down? Or what if I tell her, and she says she doesn’t feel that way? I can’t just go back to how it was before. I can’t just take it back.”

“Isn’t it killing you to not tell her?” Luca asked. He didn’t understand it as well as Nina did, and had both feet firmly in camp ‘grow a pair and tell her,’ like Jack. 

He gave a non-committal shrug. It was killing him. No, that was too dramatic. It wasn’t killing him, but it was making him a little crazy to feel so much intense emotion without having anywhere to put it. 

Nina was tired of having this same discussion with him, which had only increased in frequency when Lena moved in. If she knew for a fact Lena wouldn’t turn him down, she wouldn’t hesitate to bully her little brother into spilling his guts. But as it was, she couldn’t guarantee anything.

“I’m going to make an ass of myself,” Nico moaned. 

“You are not,” Nina admonished at the same time Luca said, “so what if you do?” 

Luca continued before either of them could jump in, “you make an ass out of yourself every day you don’t tell her the truth.” 

Nico had glared, and Nina had rolled her eyes.

In any case, knowing Lena was also nervous took some of his nerves down, too. At least he wasn’t alone in that. 

Pulling out her art supplies, Lena felt like she might throw up. She was nervous and excited, and also so worried she wouldn’t be able to capture him. The last thing she wanted was to make Nico look flat. 

Although landscapes were her specialty, the Institute insisted every artist get a full education, crossing over as many mediums and styles as possible. Even if it wasn’t the students' specialty, lots of things could be learned from going outside your own box. 

She was scraping by in the class mostly because Professor Brown took pity on her. She told Lena over and over again that she had the talent but needed to feel the art. It was a criticism she only partially understood. Lena always felt her art, but figure drawing was indeed harder for her to connect with. She wasn't even sure why it was so difficult. Perhaps because a person was always moving, unlike a mountain that stayed steady and steadfast no matter what was happening around it. Capturing a facial expression was definitely harder than it was to find the divots and crags of a landscape.

This was another reason she wanted to sketch him. She knew him so well and knew she wouldn’t be able to turn off the part of her brain that was freaking out about seeing him naked. She would have to pay attention to his humanity and try to translate it onto the page. 

Nerves ate at her stomach. Not only with the idea of not being able to capture his lovely figure, but also… Nico was her friend. Sometimes a little more than that if either of them needed a date to an event, but they’d never taken it beyond their usual, comfortable banter that often flirted with the idea of more. It was one of the things that made moving on from him so hard. He never made solid moves, but he never cut it off, either. He flashed his dimples and made her weak in the knees, but never went so far as to kiss her or really ask her on a date. 

Seeing him naked without being in a relationship felt like a step too far. At the same time, it felt like the only option. There wasn’t another man she’d be comfortable sketching, despite her bluff about Jes. 

Now she wished she hadn’t eaten. 

At the very least, she would have the barrier of her art and easel between them. Maybe this really would force her into feeling her art. It already felt like she was fighting through her anxiety, and he wasn’t even there yet.

When he came into the living room, Nico found the furniture rearranged. She’d shoved the coffee table out of the way and set two of the dining room chairs in its place. She was unpacking her supplies, leaning a large sketching pad on her easel and lining several graphite pencils up on the side table, along with a sharpener. 

“No paints?” he asked. 

She jumped, and her heart did a little skid to the side. “These pieces are all supposed to be done in one color. I feel most comfortable with graphite, so I’m doing that instead of colored pencils,” she rambled before managing to cut herself off.

Turning to look at him, she breathed, “good heavens, you look hot,” before she could stop herself. She knew he would be, but she still felt like she’d just been socked in the stomach.

It was a bit selfish of her to request this particular outfit. She always liked the way his suit pants fit, and seeing his toned chest rising above the clean, sharp line of his black belt made her fingers itch to hold a pencil. His muscles were sculpted for practical use - not too bulky, but not too lean. Chiseled enough to show ridges and valleys, but not so much that he looked like a hulked out action hero. 

He was desire personified. He was… he was an Adonis.

A cheeky smile lit his face, “good to know.” 

She made herself laugh to break the tension. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows. It felt too intimate, too much like something he fantasized about if he didn’t force himself to joke about it. 

A triumphant smile lit her face. This she could do. She was used to directing models into shapes where the light would highlight the most interesting part of their features. She asked him to stand in the middle of the room and turned him a few times, trying to get the lighting right. 

Nico tried not to flex or stand too stiffly when her hands were grasping his forearms to turn him this way and that. She stepped back to study him, then came forward to begin the process again.

Eventually, she shoved the couch out of the way and asked him to lean against the wall.

He stayed rigidly in the position she left him in as she brought another lamp into the room, angling the shade to get the shadows she was looking for. 

“Just lean against the wall with your hands in your pockets.” 

He did, and laughter burst out of her chest, “you can relax.” 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted, looking up without changing his posture. He felt stiff and on display. In his mind, this was going to be much sexier than the reality was turning out to be. He didn’t know what to do with his hands or his eyes. Or his mouth. Was he supposed to be doing something with his mouth? Should he be smiling? 

“Just stand like you would if you were waiting for something.” 

"What am I waiting for?" 

“Like you’re waiting for…me?”

“Where?” 

“I don’t know, Nico,” she caught the exasperation in her voice and cut it off. He wasn’t a professional model. He wasn’t used to coming up with scenarios on the fly like this. “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head, “like you’re waiting for me to…” she trailed off. “It doesn’t really matter why.”

If it was up to him, he’d be waiting to take her to bed. She was wearing the same pink shirt she’d worn that day he walked in on her in the kitchen, and it brought up vivid memories of her wearing it without a bra. He wondered if she was wearing the matching underwear. The thought made him blush and cast his eyes down. 

His hair flopped over one of his eyes in that cartoon prince way it always did.

“Stay there,” she practically yelled, her hands itching to capture the angles of his face. 

The sound of her pencil brushing her paper took over his thoughts, and he tried not to twitch as his hair tickled his eyelid. 

“Can you relax your shoulders?” she asked. 

He rolled his shoulders back and did his best to relax, “better?” 

“Don’t move,” she chastised. 

He smiled a little before trying to settle his face back into the expression he had before. 

Just as his neck was beginning to ache, she ripped the page from her pad and asked him to sit down. 

He looked at her for direction and smiled at her intensity. He wondered if she always looked at people like this when she was drawing them. He was a little disappointed that in the six years he'd known her, this was the first time this kind of intensity was being turned on him.

“Just get comfortable.” 

Nico extended one leg and slouched into the chair, letting the other knee fall to the side so his legs were spread.

“Can you,” Lena stopped herself mid request, biting her lip. In her mind, she was forming an art story of him slowly undressing. She wondered if this was just her lust talking and if that was okay.

“Can I?” 

She decided she didn't care if it was her lust driving. It would be a good, easy to follow series.

Her cheeks were aflame, glowing bright in the lamp light. “Can you undo your pants?” 

His eyes widened momentarily, and she saw his Adams apple bob in his throat.

Forcing his fingers into action, he worked at the button and zipper, well aware of her watching his movements. 

“I want to sketch your hands,” she said, voice reverent.

Nico stilled immediately and looked at her, holding his zipper pull. That wasn’t a reaction he’d expected.

“Oh, God,” she covered her face, pencil still in her fingers so the point angled down at her wrist. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

He couldn’t stop the cocky grin that spread over his face. This was more like what he’d imagined posing for her would be like. “You can sketch my hands anytime you want, hase,” he said, adding on the pet name before he thought better of it.

Her blush got brighter. She hated when he called her that. Bunny. It was a term of endearment that Nina assured her was well known and used by friends and lovers alike, but it brought up all sorts of wishing on her part that they were the latter. 

“Where do you want my hands?” he asked because he knew it would make her more flustered. 

She had to clear her throat and duck behind her easel. “Wherever,” she squeaked out, trying to calm her racing heart. 

Laughing, he thought about photos of underwear models and tried to get his body into a position like that. He hooked his right thumb into his waistband, exposing more of his red boxer briefs. The other hand fell off to the side, relaxed. 

Peeking around her easel, Lena lost her breath. She had never seen him so sexy. He radiated confidence and comfort with his body — something she never quite managed to feel about herself. 

This was going to be impossible.

“Look at me.” She really didn’t want him to look at her. She felt like she might set fire to her sketch pad if he did, but it would make the most impactful portrait.

Nico’s eyes met hers, and her stomach jolted. The teasing, flirtatious energy radiating from him hit her in waves. The rumble of desire she'd been feeling in her low belly purred to a higher gear, and she had to consciously stop herself from clenching her thighs together. Flirty and intense, his eyes were focused on her with purpose. Wanting, she realized with a jolt. That’s what this expression was. The kind of wanting where you want the person you’re looking at to know you want them. 

She’d imagined getting this look of open desire from him so many times that having it turned on her now nearly knocked the breath out of her. 

Forcing her hands into action, she’d never been happier to find muscle memory taking over – drawing the basic shape of his body when her mind was still running around screaming about how outrageously, unfairly attractive he was.  

Eventually, her creative mind took over, and she relaxed into the art, strokes lengthening and easing. 

When it came time to detail, she started with his face, trying to capture his relaxed, intense stare. In any other circumstance, she was certain her panties would catch fire or dissolve right off her body if he gave her this look. In all the years she’d known him, she’d never seen this expression. He would never be so forward with her in real life. 

Despite her heart beating so hard she felt it in her throat and her wrists, her pencil stayed steady. 

The exercise wasn't lost on her. Even the first drawing felt different. This looked different from her usual work, too - more real in a way she couldn’t really describe. Almost as if he might just walk off the page and kiss the viewer. 

Wanting to get this expression just right, she paused to take a photo so she could reference it later. 

“Can we turn on some music?” he asked after a minute or two. 

“Sure. What do you want?” 

“Whatever, just something.” 

Flipping on the TV, she pulled up his music subscription service and selected a slow playlist. Something he wouldn’t be tempted to bop his head to before going back to her easel to finish.

Pushing aside the longing to be on the receiving end of this wanting in a situation where he wasn’t acting, she continued on. 

He stayed in this position the longest. He found it the most comfortable, and apparently, the way he was watching her, the concentration in her mouth, and the way it narrowed her eyes just slightly was fine for her. It was a relief to not have to school the wanting off of his face for once.

After getting to a place where she felt like she could pick back up in a day or two, she had him remove his pants and sit backward. 

Almost immediately, he leaned back, one hand gripping the chair for balance while the other ran into his hair. She yelped at him to still. 

He went rigid. The position forced him to engage his core, and the arm lifted to push back his hair started to cramp from halting mid-movement. 

This sketch ended up being her favorite, though she knew people would like the one before better. This one was really a study of his body — how his muscles flexed and bulged. She even somehow managed to capture the feeling of movement in his bicep. She’d only been able to do that with trees before. Plus, the whole thing was such a Nico gesture, it felt more like him, too. 

A page ripped from her sketch pad, and finally, letting his arm down and shaking it out, he watched her settle it, face down, onto the pile, 

“Okay,” she came out from behind her easel, her hands clasped in front of her, “I’m gonna go… get some water if you want to undress and sit back like this?” 

He nodded, feeling his cheeks heat to match hers. This was all fun, games and teasing until he had to be naked in front of her. And she wouldn’t even be touching him. She’d be standing three feet away, looking at him the way she looked at one of her paintings. 

He’d daydreamed about being on the receiving end of that intense gaze so many times, but getting it in this situation felt like a poor consolation prize. 

He was on his own here, with no one to share the vulnerability of being naked with. 

“Do you need anything?” she asked from the kitchen as he was stripping off his boxers.

“Water?” he asked, setting them on top of his folded pants. 

Walking back into the living room, two bottles in her hand, Lena stopped short. 

She had seen many nude models and taught herself to get over the shock quickly. Training her mind to see the person as a sculpture, not a living being, she focused on the beauty of the human body and not the person living in it. And Nico’s body was beautiful. Smooth golden skin, dotted with freckles and moles, that stretched over living, moving muscles. 

Except, he wasn’t a marble statue. He was a living, breathing, beautiful man, and she knew him. She knew how he acted and what he loved, and she knew how much she loved him. And how much it meant to her that he was willing to put himself in such an uncomfortable position for her. She loved him so much, her heart ached with it. How could she possibly translate that into a two dimensional piece of art? 

She knew from experience how awkward it was to be a model, let alone a nude model, and that was with people she barely knew. For Nico to be naked in front of her, willing to let her sketch his strong legs and expressive eyes was something totally different. Now, besides seeing his body, which really was so beautiful, it nearly made her lose her breath. She could also see the anxiety in the set of his thigh and the curve of his spine. 

Quite suddenly, gratitude and love for him swelled within her chest in a way she had never experienced. It felt hard to breathe. 

A small noise escaped her throat.

Looking over his shoulder, Nico asked, “okay?” 

She nodded. Her feet finally moved, and she handed him the water. “You’re so beautiful, Nico,” she said, that reverent tone back in her voice as her eyes wandered down his body.

He felt a blush creep down his neck. “I don’t…” he cleared his throat, “I mean, you’re…” 

His brain wasn’t working right. She was watching him with this wonderment in her face, like she’d just found the answer to the universe. He wanted to tell her she was the beautiful one, not him, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words when she was looking at him like that.

“Thanks,” he finally managed to say. "What do you want me to do?” 

Now that they were here, she had no idea. She just wanted to watch him for the rest of the night.

The embarrassment she’d expected never came. 

She adjusted her easel, so she was looking at him, just off to the side. She could see three-quarters of his face, but his thick thigh hid his penis from her view. “Just try to get comfortable,” she said. 

Her voice was so kind and gentle that it relaxed Nico a little, but mostly, he still felt coiled tight and out of sync. “I don’t know that I can,” he said truthfully. 

“That’s fine. I know I’m asking you to be comfortable in a really awkward situation. If you feel like you can’t look at me, that’s fine.” 

The truth was that he always wanted to look at her, but seeing her this way, looking at him with holiness in her face, made him ache for her in a way he’d never felt with anyone else.  It felt nothing like any of the dreams or daydreams he’d had that involved him being naked in her presence before. 

She started with his legs first, so he didn’t have to find a way to position his head right then. “Can you flex your right thigh?” she asked. 

He did, and she giggled. He glanced over to find her in the same spot, shaking her head, “sorry, the other thigh? Your left. My right.” 

Nico tried his best and heard a breath rush from her. 

“Good grief, your legs are so sexy,” Lena said before she could stop herself.

His breath lodged in his chest. “My legs?” he repeated, his voice one step off from croaking. Had she really just said that?

“Yes,” she said, her tone serious, pencil still working. “Men’s legs are severely underrated.”

When he glanced at her, he found her concentrating again, but her mouth was set in a new expression, lips soft and parted slightly, like she was waiting to be kissed. At this point, it was nothing short of torture.

Pulling his eyes from her, he folded his arms around the chair back and set his chin on his hands. He watched the album cover bouncing around the TV screen. Mens legs were underrated. How many men did she think about like that? 

“That’s really nice, Nico, if you can just stay like that.” 

Cookie wandered in then and flopped onto the carpet previously covered by the coffee table. He watched Nico with slow blinking eyes, and he tried not to feel so observed. 

After four more songs of listening to her pencil and eraser working, she said, “Okay.”

He sat up. 

“Wait! I have to take a picture.” 

He winced, feeling the muscles in his back knot up. “Those aren’t getting turned in, are they?” 

“Nope, they’re just for me,” she winked.

His eyes widened, and she laughed.

“No, they’re for reference so I can finish the drawings. I’ll delete them later.”  

Forcing a laugh, Nico couldn’t quite decide which was worse - her taking the pictures or telling him she'd delete them so casually. 

“Okay, so for the last two sketches, I was thinking one with you standing, and one with you supine.” 

“Supine?” he repeated. He’d never even heard that word before.  

“Laying on your back.”

Well fuck. Of all the times he imagined himself on his back with her, this was just another one that would crush the daydreams he clung to on long, lonely nights. Pushing that thought away, he asked, “what’s first?”

“Whatever’s easiest for you.”

“Standing full frontal?” he asked. 

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “None of my figure drawings have included genitals. I could cut you off at the pelvis or sketch from behind. Which would you prefer?” 

He shrugged, feeling too spent to make a decision, especially one like this. Then, quite suddenly, he realized: If he was standing in front of her, he’d have to watch her looking at his dick the whole time. “Behind,” he blurted, too quick, too loud. 

After following her instruction, he found himself standing, facing the large window, where the curtains were mercifully drawn. One of his feet was up on a rung of the coffee table, forcing him to keep balance with the other. 

“I think you need to hold something,” she said, standing and walking out of the room. 

Upon coming back, she handed him the chain he wore most of the time. He’d left it on his bathroom counter, unsure if she wanted him to wear it. The fact that she seemed to know where he’d left it without asking wasn’t lost on him. He wondered if she assumed that’s where he’d left it or if she’d somehow seen him put it there. 

“You can fiddle with that,” she said.

It was cool and solid in his hands, and he allowed it to slip through his fingers, feeling the ridges and links of the metal, before his fingers slid over the cross. His breathing centered, and he felt some anxiety unknot between his shoulder blades. 

After a quick outline, she filled in some details that wouldn’t come through in a photo and asked him to lie down. She knew he was losing steam. It was a lot to ask to pose for six different portraits. Not only did it require a certain amount of stillness on his part, but it was also a night full of being watched. She could fill in the details later. 

“Let me get you a blanket to lay on,” she said. 

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn’t have to lay buck naked on the floor. 

She fetched the cozy blanket she kept on her bed. It was soft and comforting and smelled like her, like the  sweet, citrusy scent of her perfume. It was all at once comforting and disconcerting. He had so many memories with this scent. There was even a time his dick would twitch every time he smelled it. It was around too much, now, for that reaction, but it still called up a sharp longing in his gut.  

Wrapping it around himself,  he sat on the floor, then lay down. 

She fetched him a pillow, and once he was comfortable, began directing. “Can you bend your knee closest to me?”

He was slow to move but did it anyway. 

Sensing his fatigue, she told him, “I know, we’re nearly done.”

He sighed, relieved he didn’t have to ask. 

“I was hoping this one would be sort of satisfied.” she said, settling herself onto the floor facing him, her easel collapsed to be shorter. 

He arched one of his eyebrows.

“I don’t know,” she answered, “I mean like, content, I guess.” 

“I don’t think I can do that right now,” he said, hearing a wearied annoyance come into his voice. He was too tired to school it back. He was feeling spent up. Too much vulnerability with too little reciprocation. 

Lena bit her lip. “Can I do anything to make it better?” 

A sigh shifted his chest into a new position, “I just feel really…” he wasn’t sure what the words he needed were. 

She waited patiently for him to finish. He liked that she never rushed his thinking. 

Finally, he threw the other half of the blanket over his lap and sat up to face her. “I feel like I’m all exposed.” 

She nodded. 

“And you’re not.” 

She hmm’d and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth, thinking. It was such a Lena gesture that it made him smile. 

“Do you want me to get undressed?” she asked, then immediately regretted it. It seemed like the reciprocal thing to offer, but upon hearing the words out loud, she realized exactly how much she didn’t want to do it. Then they both would be anxious and awkward, and she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on her art, and that would be a loose loose for everyone.

“No.” Yes, of course he did. But if that were to happen, he wanted to earn it. He didn’t want it to be because he couldn’t sit through modeling for some portraits. Plus, then he would be completely distracted by her. 

She scooted a little closer to him, questioning in her eyes.

“I feel,” he hesitated, searching for the right thing to say. A long pause passed where she didn’t get fidgety or impatient, just waited for him to continue. The phrasing came in SwissGerman first, or course, and then he had to figure out how to best say it in English. “I feel like I’m doing this for nothing.”

“For nothing?” she repeated, a mildly panicked look crossing her face.

“I’m doing it for you, but for what? So you do well on your project?” He was happy to help, but it felt like too much. Too much given without any reciprocation. Perhaps his fatigue was talking. 

Her mouth pursed, “I can see where you’re coming from, but it’s a little more than a grade at this point. With you, I've finally been able to sketch the body the way I've been trying to for so long. And the fact that you’re willing to do something so uncomfortable, so vulnerable for me makes me just…I don’t even know how to say it.” She wanted to tell him that it made her love him. She’d told him she loved him before. She’d told him that many times: “love you, see you later,” but this felt different, deeper and truer somehow, and she wasn’t sure she was willing to admit those feelings. 

Instead, she asked, “do you want to see the sketches so far?” feeling they may be the best explanation she had. 

He perked up. She rarely showed anyone her art until it had been worked on more. A rough sketch was something she held close to her chest, wanting to keep it private until she deemed it good enough to display. He nodded, and Lena stood to retrieve them. 

Given a moment to think, he assessed his body, finding what was lacking with a quick scan. “I think I need to eat,” he said. 

His metabolism was so high, spiked higher by so much physical exercise all the time that hunger often came on swiftly, affecting his mood more than he’d like to admit. His teammates teased him to the point that he always had a snack with him. How long had they been at this drawing thing? He hadn’t eaten enough to begin with, and now they were however many hours in, and he was hungry. 

That would also explain it. She hadn’t been joking when she told him not to get hangry on her. Setting the sketches in front of him, she went to grab the sushi from the fridge.

The drawings were farther along than he expected. She worked faster than he knew. 

It was a strange thing to see himself in her delicate, penciled outlines.

Flipping over to the second sketch, he blinked a few times. He was himself, but not. The man on this paper was confident, relaxed, and flirtatious in a way he always wanted to be, especially with Lena.

“Is this how you see me?” he asked when she came back into the room.

“That’s how you are, Nico.” 

It was like looking in a weird, funhouse mirror. Was this how she saw him all the time? 

The third sketch was all in the details: the peek of the tattoo on his bicep, the flex of his abs, and the swell in his boxers. 

He flipped to the first nude sketch. She perfectly captured how he felt. Anxious, unsure, and alone. It even looked like he was bouncing his leg. Yet, the portrait didn’t seem to feel anxious. It somehow felt like acceptance. She wasn’t fighting against his feelings to make them prettier, never asking him to feel anything different. She took him as he was and translated him onto a page in a way he’d never seen or expected to see. 

How could he possibly be these two things just an hour apart? 

“It’s weird to see your own facets turned back on you, isn’t it? I felt that way when I had to sit for class portraits.” They had all taken turns modeling for their classmates so they could understand better the perspective of the model, and it had been strange to see sixteen different versions of herself at the end of the class - each of them skewed a little based on the artist. 

In the last drawing, he looked more relaxed. He was so glad when she’d handed him his cross to hold. Not only was it something comforting and familiar, but she’d also given him something to do with his hands, which felt important. 

This was the drawing that most made him look like a hockey player, he thought. He could clearly see how his butt and thighs were thicker than the rest of him. He’d long ago gotten used to the size of his legs, but it was still strange to see the disproportion of them in comparison with the rest of his body laid bare so thoroughly. 

She dipped her head to capture his line of vision, “I meant what I said before, Nico,” she said, handing him the to-go container. “You really are beautiful.” She flipped back to him tense and unsure. “Even here. Maybe even most here.”

His eyes shot to hers. 

“This,” she tapped the drawn version of him on the back, “represents a huge sacrifice you're making for me. Putting yourself in a very uncomfortable position to help me get better at my art. To help me really understand the human form for the first time. I look at this, and I see how much you care for me.”

When he’d finished with the rest of the sushi, feeling sated and comfortable, he looked at her. She’d placed her sketch pad on the floor and put the last drawing on top of it. Hunched over, she was filling in detail.

He always appreciated this about Lena, that if he needed some time to himself, she would find a way to keep herself busy. He didn’t feel like he had to entertain her all the time, like he did with a lot of the women in his life. It was a refreshing change of pace. 

He watched her work for a while, fascinated with the way she braced her hand with just the knuckle of her pinky finger so she wouldn’t smudge the charcoal already on the page. 

Clearing his throat, he set the empty container to the side. 

Looking up, Lena could see how much better he felt. His shoulders were more relaxed, and his hands were loose in his lap. 

“Do you want to keep going?” she asked, moving the drawing back to the pile. 

He nodded. 

“We can pick up again on Sunday if you’d rather.”

He wasn’t sure he could convince himself into doing this again. “No, I feel better,” which was a partial truth, “let's finish now.” 

She scooted back to her easel. When she got settled and looked around it, she found he had changed positions. Still on his back, his other knee was slightly bent, the blanket draped around his far hip to cover himself. His hand was up, resting under his head, showing off the smooth underside of his bicep and the tattoo of his families zodiac signs. 

“Is this okay?” he asked. 

"Yeah. Could you adjust the blanket?” she asked. “So it’s not so folded?”  

He nodded and pulled himself into a half crunch to see and adjust the fabric. His abs contracted, and Lena looked at the ceiling before she could be overwhelmed with attraction. 

“Like this?” he asked. 

When she looked again, it was better, but still looked too placed, not like it’d been hastily thrown over him. 

Her lips pressed together, an he sighed, knowing what that meant. “Can you just adjust it?” 

“You’re sure you’re okay with that?”

Pulling in a fortifying breath, he nodded. 

As she crawled over to him, Nico felt his heartbeat quicken. 

Her hands softly gathered the blanket, pulling out the folds. If he were wearing something underneath, she’d just toss it up and let it fall, but she couldn’t do that.  

Her fingers brushed the inside of his thigh as she tucked more of it between his legs, and the muscle fluttered all the way up to his groin. Biting his cheek, he stifled the groan of frustration that crawled up his throat. 

“Sorry,” she said, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry.” 

He shook his head, eyes still closed. Maybe he hadn’t been as successful as he thought. If he looked at her now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the semi he was sporting from popping into a full boner and he just couldn't take that embarrassment. “it’s okay. Just, no more.”

Nodding, she scooted back to her easel. 

Keeping his eyes closed, Nico thought about swimming in the cold, glacial lake near home until his body relaxed. 

“Nico,” Lena asked, her hand on his shoulder. 

His eyes fluttered open. 

Above him, her expression was soft and full of that same wonderment from before. “I’m done if you want to get dressed.” 

He nodded, and she left the room. 

Before going to join her in the kitchen, he pulled his boxers and trousers back on. 

“Sorry I fell asleep,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Nothing to be sorry for. I’m glad you felt comfortable.” 

He hugged her then, bringing her body closer to his. He'd been thinking about it for too long. 

“Thank you for doing this for me,” she said, voice intimate, dim and quiet. 

“You know I'd do anything for you,” he said. 

Did she know that? She figured she did. “Still, I know it wasn’t easy, so thank you.” 

Nico stilled when she tucked her face into his neck. She’d done this before when he’d comforted her after a breakup. Then, he’d wanted to show her he could be the better man for her, but he’d been unwilling to cross that line. He still was. Maybe Jack and Luca were right. Maybe he did just need to grow a pair and ask her out. But what if she didn’t want him and didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of that discussion and wanted to move out? He would feel horrible. She’d have to find a place that would let her keep Cookie or take him back to her parents.

“Are you okay?” she asked, running her hands over his back. His skin was warm and surprisingly soft. Along with the scent of his soap and the mild undertone of sweat, there was a faintly cedar-y smell clinging to his skin. She’d never been able to tell where it came from. It was too faint to be cologne. 

His muscles trembled. “Yeah,” he said into her hair, trying to calm his racing heart. 

Her phone trilled from her back pocket. Lena was the only person he knew who didn’t keep her phone on vibrate.

She pulled back so she could look at it.  

Nico reluctantly let his hands fall to his sides. “Your mom?” he asked. It seemed she was the only one who ever really called Lena. At least when he was around. 

“No, it’s Milo,” she said, silencing the ringer and setting the phone face down on the counter. “He’s probably drunk and wants to get laid.” 

Nico’s heart began to race with worry, jealousy, and fear. “Does he do that a lot?” Thank god his voice didn’t squeak over the words.

“Once a month or so, I guess.” 

He knew he shouldn’t ask this question. He knew it was none of his business, but he was tired and emotionally empty, and his filter was thinner than usual because of it. “Do you take him up on it?” 

Her eyebrows raised, a sarcastic look taking over her pretty features, “are you serious, Nico? Of course not. He’s just drunk dialing through his contacts list.” 

“I always hated that guy. He’s such a tool.” 

Hearing that phrase come out of Nico’s mouth, in his strong accent, made her laugh out loud. “What?” 

“That’s not the right word?” he asked. “Like he’s selfish and just does things to be cool?” 

“It’s the right word,” she confirmed, this teasing smile on her lips that would liquify his bones if he let it. “I know you never liked him. I just didn’t realize you felt so…strongly about it.” 

His nose scrunched as he blew out a frustrated breath. “He wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Well, he couldn’t measure up anyway.” 

“Measure up to what?” 

“To this guy I’ve liked for a really long time,” she said, not quite brave enough to spit out the truth.

“So why don’t you date him?” Nico asked instead of demanding to know who this man was. 

“I can’t ever tell if he’s into me.” 

“He’d be a fool to not be into you.”

“Would he?” she asked, looking into his face, wondering what he meant by that.

“Yeah. You’re kind and fun and smart,” he said. 

Part of her swooned when he didn’t lead off with the fact that she was pretty. The other part of her was a little disappointed he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Any man would be lucky to have you,” he added on quietly as his eyes dropped to his feet. He couldn’t possibly look at her while telling her another man would be lucky to have her. It would happen one day, he knew, but he kind of hoped he’d somehow be out of the picture when it did. 

Lena studied him as he looked at his bare feet. 

His curiosity got the better of him, “who is this guy anyway?” 

Well, shit. She’d really talked herself into a corner this time. What was she supposed to say now? 

“Do I know him?” 

She nodded. 

“Does he play?” he asked hesitantly. 

She nodded again.

“I thought…” The knowledge sliced through him: if it wasn’t about hockey, it was about him. “I thought you didn’t like hockey players,” he said, fighting against the ache in his chest. 

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “What gave you that idea?” 

“I overheard you talking to Jessica at the rink once about how you wouldn’t date me because I was a hockey player.” 

“You’re sure I was talking about you?” 

“You said ‘I don’t date hockey players,’ and then Jessica asked, ‘what about Nico?’” 

Understanding sparked her memory. “Did you stick around to hear my answer?” She hadn’t even known he was listening in on that conversation. She’d been sitting on the refreshments counter while Jessica baked the soft pretzels. He must have been around the corner, heading into the locker room.

“You said ‘it doesn’t matter.’ I couldn’t listen anymore, so I walked away.” 

A small smile lit up her face. “If you had stayed, you would have heard me say, ‘it doesn’t matter, Nico’s not like the other guys. He’s sweet and respectful.’” 

“Oh,” he said because he didn’t know what else to say.  “I thought you didn’t date hockey players,” he said again, lamely. 

“I don’t. I mean, not the average ones,” she added on when his expression fell. “I told people that because they’d wonder why I was around the team all the time, but not shacking up with any of them. Those boys I grew up with were all such dogs, but you never made me feel less than for being a woman or like I needed to put out to be accepted.” 

His nose wrinkled. 

“See, that?” she asked, noting his disgust. “That’s why I like you, Nico. You’re sweet and kind and so respectful of women.” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You see it in locker rooms all the time. I’m sure you see it in yours currently.” 

The conversation paused as he thought. 

“You’re different than other players,” she said. “Jessica was asking me that because she knew you’re a hockey player that I liked.”

“You liked me?” he asked, his mind running in circles trying to process all the information coming at him. 

“Yeah, Nico,” she said. Well, she was already here, she may as well spill the whole pot. “I still do.” 

Half of his mouth lifted just enough to dimple his cheek.

“Ugh, don’t flash your dimples at me! I can barely keep my hands to myself as it is,” she said, shoving his shoulder.

That was new. “What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?” 

Her breath hitched in her throat. “Don’t tease Nico. It’s rude.” 

“Who said anything about teasing?” 

“I —” she was having a hard time articulating her words, “but you —” 

He patiently waited for her to finish, attempting to school the grin off his face. 

“But you don’t even like me like that,” she finished, lamely.

He couldn’t help it, laughter burst out of his chest, “what?” 

“You’ve never made a move,” she said, feeling outrageously embarrassed. It was one thing to admit her feelings, but then to have them thrown back in her face was something she just couldn’t handle. 

“You know what Jack tells me every time he sees us together?” 

She was so taken off guard by the question that it jolted Lena out of her spiraling thoughts. “What?” 

“He tells me to make it happen.” 

Her eyebrows shot up. 

“All the guys know I’m in love with you.”

Her breathing hitched, and she gripped the counter behind her to keep from falling over.

“In fact, everyone knows I’m in love with you. Nina says I look so lovesick no one can miss it.” He took a step in so they were nearly chest to chest. “But somehow, you don’t ever see it,” he added quietly. 

He was so close, she was certain he could hear her heart hammering. Her mind was still caught on, ‘all the guys know I’m in love with you.’ It was like she couldn’t process the words. “You’re in love with me?” she asked. 

A deep, frustrated sound, like a groan, filtered up his throat. The thought of pulling that sound out of him in any other circumstance made her knees feel weak. It sent heat racing between her thighs.

“I’ve been in love with you since I left Halifax,” he said, relief he didn’t have to keep anything under wraps flooding through him. “That’s why I broke up with Viv when I left. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and it wasn’t fair to her or to me.” 

Her wide eyes snapped to his, and Nico took a steadying breath. She really hadn’t known. All this time, he thought she must have, but held to her principles enough to turn away from it. 

“I’ve been in love with you since you left Halifax, too, Nico.” 

It was his turn for his breathing to hitch. “What?”

“I thought you didn’t like me like that.”

How was this possible? Nico felt like his knees were slowly turning to jelly. “How could you think that?” he croaked. 

“You never made a move,” she repeated. 

“You said you don’t date hockey players,” he defended. 

Hands fluttering up to cover her face, Lena shook her head. “I can’t believe this,” she said, a small laugh escaping. 

Reaching up, Nico gently encircled her wrists and pulled her hands away. She let them fall by her sides.

His heart was galloping in his chest. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, surprised to find his voice quieter than he meant it to be.

Lena nodded, a feeling as though she were about to jump out of a plane surging through her body. Something grand and beautiful waited for her if she could just put her faith in the parachute and step into the unknown. Well, partially unknown. She knew Nico, and she wasn’t afraid.

One of his hands drifted up to her face. Cupping her jaw, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’re so beautiful, Lena,” he said, glad to find his voice had evened out. 

For the first time, she recognized that look he was always giving her. That wide open, soft gaze. Love, she realized with a shock of understanding. It was love. It had been love this whole time. She really had been blind. 

Her eyes darted away as her cheeks flushed pink. “Thank you.” She wouldn’t lie, hearing it eased some of the anxiety in her chest.

He waited for her eyes to come back to his before leaning down. Heart hammering with six years of anticipation, their lips finally met.

When her head tipped slightly to the side and her mouth opened to him, a shock raced down his spine while a sigh filtered up his throat. The kiss was better than any fantasy his mind had concocted through the years.

His tongue tentatively slipped into her mouth, and Lena felt a flash flood of right, this is right, this is the most right thing that’s ever been right in my life, sweep through her. 

Her hands fluttered up to his shoulders, and she felt his, heavy on her waist, squeeze when her tongue slipped past his lips.

God, Nico was in paradise. This was the softest, most heavenly, love-filled kiss he’d ever experienced. How did people even find words for this? Sudden understanding sparked in the back of his mind. This was why people wrote sonnets and songs and books. He wanted to drown in this feeling.

Eager to see his face again, she eased back.

“This is okay?” he asked, eyes snapping to hers, worried she was having regrets.

Nodding, she leaned forward and slid her mouth over his. 

This kiss was slower, more passionate. When her teeth grazed his bottom lip, Nico felt electricity zing through him. 

His fingers ran into her hair to cradle the back of her head. 

There was no stopping the moan that filtered up her throat when he sucked on her tongue gently. 

Fuck, he loved that noise more than anything he’d ever heard. He wanted to hear it again, and again and again in every possible position and every possible circumstance.

All at once, the kiss was electric, the initial softness giving way to the chemistry and sexual tension that had been brewing between them for more than half a decade. Lena had never felt anything like it. It was exhilarating and somehow grounding in a way she’d never experienced, as if they were rooted together by their passion.

She wanted more of him. Her hands dove into his hair, noting the groan he let out when she pulled it lightly. 

Nico lifted her onto the counter. He wanted her closer than their standing position allowed. She wrapped her legs around his waist. It was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

He broke away and trailed his mouth to her jaw, eager to taste her skin.

“Nico,” her voice was a breathy little moan. 

He was a fool for not telling her sooner. God, he was such a fool. 

Her hand found his jaw and pulled his mouth back to hers with a simple, “more,” that nearly drove him out of his mind with the need to obey. 

Their teeth clicked, and she gigged. 

He loved this, too - getting her in all the ways, even the awkward ones. A laugh fell into her mouth, and it brought him back to himself. He wanted to savor this. There was no need to rush. She wasn’t going anywhere. 

Nico felt himself pout when she proved him wrong, and her lips broke from his. She stripped off her shirt, and before he could get his eyes on her, he felt her mouth connect to that soft spot under his jaw. How did she know?

“Lena,” he breathed. Her hands slid down his front, and the shock of her touch sent his skin to trembling. “Oh my God, Lena.”

She’d always loved the way he said her name, but this was something else. This was a song she would never get tired of, one she wanted to listen to again, and again, and again. 

Her mouth explored his throat, sucking his pulse point. His dedication to go slow dissolved a little with every brush of her tongue, every graze of her nose ring across his skin. 

His hands were suddenly everywhere. All over her back, cupping her butt to pull her to the edge of the counter so their hips could touch. 

Feeling the rigid length of him pressing between her legs turned Lena feral. She’d done this to him. She was doing this to him. Tightening her legs around him, she wanted to do so much more to him. 

Their hips ground together as his hands slipped to unhook her bra. “Okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

He fumbled with the clasps briefly before they gave way. 

Taking the garment at the center gore, she pulled it away from her body. A brief moment of chaos ensued as their arms tangled in the effort to get it away from her. Finally, she flung it over his shoulder and giggled when the metal bits clinked against the tile floor. 

Laughter split his face into the adorable, dimpled smile she loved so much before his gaze turned back to her. Even as the corners of his mouth remained turned up, his jaw slackened as his eyes blew wide. 

Dreams and reality crashed into each other, and Nico felt his breath rush from his lungs. He’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. 

“Hase,” he said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It was a bit of a cutesy pet name, but his brain was too busy trying to soak in every detail of her he’d been so starved for to think of a new one. 

He murmured something under his breath in German, and Lena felt heat race to her core. She slid her hands into his hair in an attempt to pull him into a kiss, but he resisted, eyes still glued to her chest. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, voice husky. 

“Thank you,” she said, feeling a blush overtake her cheeks. 

He reached out, then paused, hands stopped in mid-air. “Can I?”

When his eyes flicked up to meet hers again, she lost her own breath. She was so used to seeing Nico’s expressive eyes wide with (what she knew now was) love, sparkling with mirth or drooped with disappointment. This…lust, different even from when he was posing with his pants undone, was new. Heat mixed with love and wonder. She’d never felt so desired. 

She nodded, finding her voice wasn’t where she left it. 

Nico was already throbbing against the zipper of his trousers, and cupping her breasts in his palms only made it worse. When she arched into his touch with a moan, it became damn near unbearable. 

Unable to wait any longer, he crashed his lips to hers as their hips surged together again. 

If he wasn’t careful, he was going to blow his load in his pants before he even got to feel her touch. Forcing himself to slow down, he concentrated on the weight of her breasts in his hands and the taste of her tongue in his mouth. 

She was the one who took it further, one of her hands slipping down his stomach to cup him over his fabric prison.

Now would be a horrible time to faint, he told himself, even as he felt his eyes rolling back and his hips pushing forward into her hand. He groaned against her lips. 

His mouth slid to her neck, and she shivered, feeling her nipples tighten more as his teeth scraped over her sensitive throat. 

He was hard and so hot, even through the fabric of his trousers. It suddenly wasn’t enough. Removing her other hand from his hair, she fumbled with the belt buckle. Finally managing to get it open, she asked, “this is okay?” 

“God, yes,” he moaned, hips restlessly moving against her hands. 

As she was tearing the zipper down, one of his hands slid toward the fastening of her own jeans. “Okay?” 

“Uh-hu.”

It was only after he flicked the button open and managed to pull the zipper that she realized she didn’t want to do this here. Not where, if she leaned back, her head would hit the cabinets, and not so close to where they prepared their food.

“Can we move to the couch?” she asked, breath in his ear.

Could they move to the couch? He would move them to the moon if she asked. 

Lightning fast, his hands were suddenly cradling her bum, hauling her off the counter so he could cary her to the living room. A surprised yelp escaped her at the sudden show of strength.

He had to wrench his eyes open so he wouldn’t dump them on the floor as she licked his jaw up to the lobe of his ear, which she nibbled gently. 

When they made it there, he tried to sit down still holding her, but only half managed it before he was falling the rest of the way. He didn’t mind her crashing on top of him. Feeling her chest pressed to his was a lifelong dream coming to fruition. 

She was moving so restlessly on top of him, hips grinding, it made him whimper. Her hands snaked between them again, this time to shove his pants down. 

They both pushed and tugged, and finally, he was free. 

She broke away to look at him, and he had a sudden, terrible worry she would be disappointed. He wasn’t the biggest guy, but he wasn’t too small — at least no one had told him so. 

“Oh, Nico,” Lena murmured, finally getting her hands on him. He was perfect. Thick and hard and searingly hot against her palm. 

“Lena,” he moaned, head tipping back against the couch cushions. Finally feeling her touch was incredible. Now really would be a terrible time to faint. 

She pulled her hand away briefly to spit into her palm, and he almost lost it, feeling like he could have come from the sight alone. 

As soon as she began to stroke him, he was done for. There was no coming back from this — though he couldn’t think of a reason why they would need to. 

His mouth dropped open, and his eyelids fluttered, attempting to keep looking into her face. The pleasure she was pulling out of him won out, and his eyes closed.

“Feels so good,” he groaned, his accent thickening as he spoke. He was going to lose his English next. 

It happened, and he started babbling in German. 

His voice was lower in his native tongue - it always had been. Lena felt her core flutter in anticipation. 

He repeated the same word several times like it was a question, but she didn't know what it meant. 

Nico opened his eyes and came back to himself enough to realize she didn't understand, and therefore couldn't do what he was begging her to. 

“Kiss,” he managed in English, unable to pull out the correct grammar. “Please, kiss.” 

Oh, that's what kush meant. In hindsight, it did sound a lot like kiss. 

When she caught his lips, Nico couldn't hold back a moan as her tongue licked into his mouth. He had imagined this so many times, but those fantasies didn't prepare him for the actual feel of her hands on him, or the sweet, warm taste of her mouth, as if she'd just eaten one of those cinnamon sweets she liked so much. 

Pleasure sparked and fizzed across his skin.

Jesus, this was better than anything he’d ever felt. Was this what six years of longing and anticipation did? Deciding it didn’t matter, he pushed the thought aside and let his whole mind be consumed by her soft hand, her incredible tongue, and the knowledge that this was actually happening. This was happening for real. He wasn’t going to jolt awake in a few minutes with a boner so hard it hurt. 

“Lena,” he groaned into her mouth. 

She pulled away just enough to whisper against his lips, “what do you need?” 

Everything. He needed everything. “You,” he said instead. 

“I’m here,” she said, pulling at his length with a little more fervor. 

His hips pumped up into her hand, desperate for release. 

“Lena, I’m…” he couldn’t even get the words out before he was exploding. 

She moaned along with him, drinking in the pleasure that washed over his face - his fluttering lashes and panting mouth. 

Closing his eyes, Nico tried to compose himself. The sight of his release splattered over her breasts might actually make him faint. 

She kept going with slower, gentler strokes until he winced, then gently pulled her hand away. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice deep and satisfied.  

She giggled. 

God, he couldn’t even move. Her mouth was back at his neck, and he breathed out a curse in German. 

“Is that good or bad?” she asked into his skin. 

“So good.” He needed to teach her so he wouldn’t have to explain. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” he said instead of launching into a lesson in German swearing.  

Lifting her mouth from his neck, she looked down at him. 

God, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. “You’re so handsome, Nico,” she whispered, tracing a thumb over one of his bushy eyebrows. 

He flushed. 

“I’ve thought about what you look like when you’re coming so many times,” she said, tracing over his cheekbone this time. 

“You have?” he squeaked. 

She nodded. “And it was so beautiful.” 

“I have too,” he admitted, slowly sliding his hand up her thigh. “Can I see it?”

Biting her lip, she nodded. 

Even as he was working his hand into her underwear, his other was coming up to her face and gently thumbing her bottom lip out from under her teeth.

“Show me how to make you come,” he said, eyes boring into hers. 

Shit, she might just fall apart from that look alone. 

Rising onto her knees, she shoved her pants and underwear down to give them easier access. His fingers slipped between her lips, and she moaned, pressing toward them.  

“I don’t really get off from penetration,” she said, “I like it, but it won’t make me orgasm, so it’s all about the clit for me.”

Sliding his fingers back from her entrance, he searched for that little nub. “Here?” he asked when he thought he’d found it. 

Reaching down, she moved him where she needed him, so the pads of his fingers were making direct contact. “Here,” she breathed, guiding him to circle over and around her pearl.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and he devoured the pleasure that flowed over her face. 

“I like this, too,” she said, moving his fingers into a V so they traced on either side. 

He started a pattern from her instructions — circling and stroking, then splitting as he pulled back. 

“You can press harder,” she moaned softly.

He did, and her hips stuttered into his touch. 

“Can you…” she trailed off, feeling suddenly shy. She’d never asked a man for this before. Then again, this was Nico. He’d taken every other instruction to heart and was touching her exactly the way she wanted. She knew he would at least try.

“Anything,” he rasped, “tell me.”

Hips seeking, she moaned and loved that he was so willing to please her. She could see it in the way he was watching her — this eager, desperate look in his eyes, full of wonder and desire and so much need. 

“Can you suck my nipples?” she finally whispered. 

Growling something affirmative, he leaned in and drew one of the tender buds between his lips. 

Her voice keened, and her hand flew into his hair to cradle him to her chest, “use your tongue,” she instructed, then moaned, “yes, Nico,” when he laved over the sensitive peak. 

He was so turned on by her. By her confidence in knowing what she wanted and that she trusted him enough to tell him. Not to mention the way his name was panting out of her mouth.

Her back arched, pushing her hips into his hand and her breast into his mouth.

If Nico had known pleasing a woman could come with instructions like this, it would have changed his whole life.

He moved to the other breast, almost suckling at the tender bud. 

“Fuck, Nico,” she moaned, “feels so good.” 

“Show me how to take you there.” 

“Put your fingers inside me.”

He obeyed even though he didn’t know how he’d stroke her clit now. Just as he was getting ready to detach his other hand from her breast, she guided his wrist so the heel of his hand pressed into her.

“Nico,” she moaned as pleasure flooded her system. Her hips ground into his hand. He felt incredible. God, was this what she’d been missing every time a man asked what she wanted and then did what they wanted anyway?

Her next words fell apart just as she did, turning as nonsensical as her rhythm.

Even watching the pleasure roll over her face didn’t prepare him for the feeling of her coming. He'd never felt anything like it. Her muscles clenched in quick succession, fluttering around his fingers. Fuck. If she did this around his cock? He might die. 

All at once, the pleasure surging through her snapped, and she collapsed against him. 

Nico eased his fingers from her and eased them up to his mouth, eyes rolling back at the first taste of her. He couldn’t wait to get his mouth on her. 

Before he could suggest they move to the bedroom, she was curling against him and tucking her face into his neck. Her breathing slowed. It was late - well past her usual bedtime, and Nico knew how a good orgasm could relax his body right to sleep if he was already tired. 

“I love you,” she whispered into his neck. 

A thrill zinged through him. “I love you, too,” he said, stroking a hand up her spine. 

Upon waking, the first thing Lena noticed was that her breasts were bare, nipples puckered so tightly in the chilly morning air that they ached. Somehow, though, the rest of her wasn’t cold. 

Trying to roll over, she ran into a solid body behind her. 

The night before came crashing back. Nico posing for her before admitting he loved her. He loved her! Part of her still couldn’t believe it. She smiled, remembering the incredible way he looked falling apart beneath her before he teased the most incredible orgasm she’d ever had from her body. So incredible, she’d fallen asleep right in his lap. He must have moved them into this spooning position on the couch rather than moving her into her own bed. 

Her phone trilled again. That’s what had woken her. Where was it? It sounded nearby.

Nico mumbled something and tightened his arms around her when she tried to get up. 

When it rang for the third time, she realized it wasn’t ringing at all - it was her alarm. She needed to get up. As much as she wanted to just stay here and recreate the night before again and again and again, something Nico wouldn’t have minded if his hot length currently pressing into her back was any indication, she couldn’t. She had to show Professor Brown her sketches, and she had a painting to turn in in her post modernism class.

“Nico, I have to get up,” she said, lifting his arm from around her waist. Her chest was itchy from where his cum had dried on her skin. 

“Nonig,” he mumbled, pulling her back into him. 

“Yes.”

Finally managing to extract herself, she immediately fell off the couch. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice still thick with sleep.

God, he was adorable waking up. Mussed hair and heavy lidded eyes. 

Nico didn’t want this moment to end. It couldn’t. It was too good. He watched, amused, as she tripped over her pants before tearing them down her legs and kicking them them off before she stumbled into the kitchen.

She finally found her phone — she’d left it on the counter — and cursed when she saw the time. She didn’t even have time to shower. 

He groaned a pleasant curse in his native tongue and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head. Sleeping on the couch was definitely not going to help him in the game tonight. 

He sat up abruptly. “What time?” he called.

“It’s 9:05. I have to go to class.” she said, debating if she should just pull her jeans on and go. No, if she couldn’t shower, she at least needed to change. 

He cursed again,  jumping to his feet. This was not how he wanted the morning after to go. He wanted to make her breakfast in bed and ravish her again before he had to leave. Now, he had to rush. Practice started in 30 minutes, and it would take him 20 to get to the rink.

He ran to his bedroom and stopped short. There was a suitcase next to his dresser. He’d forgotten he was heading out on a road trip. 

Running his hands into his hair, he wondered how this could have happened. He would have to be at the arena before she got home from class, and then they would leave from there to catch their flight to Florida. He finally got her, and he had to leave. This was the worst morning after he could have imagined. 

Attempting to run down the hall and pull on her chucks at the same time probably wasn’t the best plan, but Lena needed to see him before he left. She wouldn’t see him again for six whole days. Stumbling, she crashed through his doorway just in time to watch him pulling on a new pair of underwear. She finally got her other shoe on before she stood up, pushing her hair out of her face. 

He turned to her, and she lost her breath. She’d seen him naked, and he still did this to her. 

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” she said quietly. 

He didn’t hesitate to stride to her, take her face in his hands, and kiss her deeply, like he’d wanted to for so many years. He was never giving up the opportunity again. 

Gathering her against him, he broke the kiss in favor of burying his face in her hair. “I wish this morning was different.”

“I know, I do, too. But I’ll be here when you get back,” she assured, running her hands down his back. At the tail end of her stroke, she let her fingers curve in so her nails traced over his skin. 

He pulled back to look into her eyes, cheeks dimpling. 

A smile spread over her face, and she leaned up to brush her lips over his, “I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

He nodded. 

“Good luck,” she said, kissing him again, “I love you.” 

Maybe this morning wasn’t so bad after all. “I love you, too.” 

The smile she gave him made him want to move mountains. 

“Thank you again,” she said, leaning in to kiss him one more time. 

“For what?” he called after her as she ran down the hall. 

“For everything,” she called back. “For all of it.” 

It Doesn't Matter:

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2

Summary: You're determined to figure out why Eddie hates you, and he's more determined to avoid you at any cost. But confrontations with Jeff and Wayne may have him reconsidering all of his choices--including the one to become a father. How long can he run from his demons before they catch up to him?

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, mentions of drug dealing, mentions of Eddie's dad, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 5.9k

Chapter 2/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

“He called you what?” Jess screeches, and you have to pull the receiver from your ear to avoid losing your hearing. “Oh, he’s a dead man.”

You place the phone back between your shoulder and cheek so you can stir the pot of marinara sauce while talking to your friend. She’d called to ask about your first day of work, and of course you’d mentioned Eddie’s frigid bitch comment. “I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a grown man who promises to call and then basically drops off the face of the Earth,” you say, trying to keep your anger at bay. There’s murmuring in the background coming from a voice deeper than Jess’s. “Do you have company? Because we can talk later–”

“Nah, I’m just at Viv and Jeff’s place.” Before you can tell her not to say anything, you hear her spreading the news to her sister and future brother-in-law. The girl’s a sweetheart, but she spreads news faster than the New York Times. 

There’s the sound of shuffling and the phone being exchanged between parties, followed by Jeff saying, “Please tell me that you’re joking.”

“About being called a frigid bitch? I’m afraid not,” you confirm with a terse chuckle, draining a pot of spaghetti into the colander. “But, honestly, it’s really not a big deal. I’ve been called worse.”

Jeff’s quiet for a moment before he replies. “He’s such an asshole. Christ.” You detect a note of sadness in his tone, almost grief, like he’s mourning someone he thought he knew.

“Look, I shouldn’t have called him out on that stupid Cat and Mouse thing,” you say. “I should’ve just let it go, put a smile on my face, and acted civilly. I only said it to piss him off, and it worked.”

“No, this is more than you,” Jeff protests, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He never used to be like this. He used to actually be a great guy.” It sounds like he has more to say, but he just blurts out, “I gotta go,” and quickly hands the phone back to Jess.

The two of you talk for a few more minutes until the sauce on the stove starts to bubble, indicating that dinner’s ready.

“Grandma,” you call out, “it’s dinnertime!”

Your grandma pads out of her bedroom, hair disheveled even though you’d just combed through it this morning, and wrinkles her nose. “Not hungry,” she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, you gotta eat so you can take your medicine,” you tell her, keeping your tone even and patient, “otherwise, you’ll feel sick. C’mon, you love pasta.”

“I don’t have to take any goddamn medicine,” she snaps, scowling at the three pills at her table setting. “These aren’t even mine.”

Well, then, whose are they? Do you think I robbed a Rite Aid? You want to snap, but you bite back the retort. “Yes, Grandma, they are. This one,” you point to a small, white pill, “is for your blood pressure. And this one,” you point to a larger yellow one, “is your multivitamin, and this little yellow one is for, um…” you hesitate, “for Alzheimer's.”

“I don’t have Alzheimer’s!” Grandma shouts, swiping the pills to the ground. They fall with a clatter, bouncing underneath the table. “And I’m not eating shit.” She storms off to her room, muttering a slew of swear words under her breath.

You take a deep breath, feeling the oxygen fill your lungs. This isn’t the first time she’s had an outburst like this, and you know to just leave dinner on the stove, and she’ll come and eat in a few minutes when she forgets that she’s “not hungry.” In the meantime, you pick up the fallen medication and place them back on her napkin before digging into your own bowl of spaghetti.

Sure enough, she joins you about fifteen minutes later, exclaiming that “something smells good,” and eating her dinner happily. She only asks you twice where you’re from and when you’re leaving, but your heart still sinks with each question. The grandma who never missed a birthday and brought your favorite candy when she visited had all but been erased by a vicious disease. All you can do now is keep her safe and enjoy the brief moments when she’s smiling.

There’s only silence when Eddie shows up at Gareth’s house after dropping Harris at Wayne’s trailer. He’s usually greeted by the sound of everyone warming up and tuning their instruments. For a second, he thinks that he has the wrong night, or he forgot that they canceled practice, but he finds the guys sitting in Gareth’s garage. They all look up guiltily when they hear him walk in.

“Who died?” Eddie asks with a nervous laugh, shoving his hands in his pockets and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Seriously, guys, what’s going on?”

Gareth bites his lip, wordlessly turning to Jeff. Eddie stiffens a bit at the silent shift to Jeff’s newfound leadership. Since when does Gareth look to Jeff to speak up? 

“Ed, we need to talk with you,” Jeff says, sitting up a bit taller. “We, uh, we think Corroded Coffin needs a bit of hiatus.”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and gives a disbelieving snort. “Oookay,” he says sardonically. “And why are you telling me that we should break up the band I founded?” He walks closer to his bandmates, challenging them with the fury behind his eyes.

“It’s not fun for us anymore, man,” Danny admits. “This is supposed to be something we do to relax, blow off some steam and get a break from the real world. But lately, it’s been more of a chore.”

“A chore?” Eddie echoes, scoffing loudly. “What the hell does that even mean?”

Jeff stands up, ready to bulldoze through whatever counterattack Eddie concocts. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a miserable person to be around. When you first moved back, when Harris was a newborn, we figured it was just a lack of sleep. But your kid’s four now, Munson,” Jeff says pointedly, “and you’re still a dick.”

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Eddie mutters with an incredulous laugh. “Let me get this straight: I have a couple of bad days, and you shut shit down? Without even talking to me about it first?”

This ignites a spark in Jeff, and he puffs out his chest and takes another step towards Eddie. “You wanna talk about it? Fine; we’ll talk. What should we start with, hm? The way you can never be happy for any of us unless it benefits you? The way you act like an immature teenager, selling drugs instead of getting a real job? The way you treat women like they’re disposable?” He looks Eddie dead in the eyes and says curtly, “I heard about your little ‘frigid bitch’ comment. And at her job, too. Real nice.”

“Why do you care whether or not I still sell? Or how I treat women?” Eddie shoots back. “Did I get you in trouble with your old lady or something?”

“That’s the other thing,” There’s no mistaking the bitterness seeping from Jeff’s pores. “I tell you–one of my oldest, closest friends–that I’m getting married and having a baby with the love of my life, and you couldn’t be bothered to give a shit.”

Eddie feels his mouth dry up, knowing that everything Jeff’s said is true; he clears his throat and tries to play it off. “You cool with this, Gareth?” he asks the drummer, hoping no one caught the waver in his voice. 

Gareth can’t even let his gaze meet Eddie’s as he mumbles, “I used to look up to you, man. You were my honest-to-God hero. But now, I…I don’t want to be like you anymore.”

The confession is a total knockout; Eddie stumbles back as though he’s actually been punched in the gut. “Whatever. You can all choke for all I care.” He slings his guitar case back over his shoulder and starts towards his car.

“Let us know when you decide to grow up,” Jeff calls out. Eddie just flips him off, slamming the car door and speeding down the road. 

Fuck them, he thinks, barreling through a stop sign without even noticing. Who the fuck do they think they are; breaking up the band because they don’t like my attitude? They didn’t mind my attitude when it protected them from all the assholes at school, or when it got them into clubs when they were underage. But now they’re complaining about it? Fucking pricks.

As he turns into the trailer park entrance, a thought occurs to him: how the hell did Jeff know that I called her a “frigid bitch” at work? What did she do, call him up and snitch on me? Trying to ruin my life all because I didn’t call her? He grips the steering wheel even tighter, throwing the car in park and stomping out to Wayne’s trailer. He knocks impatiently, as though he’s been kept waiting.

“What are you doing back so soon?” Wayne asks, concern written all over his face. “And why do you look like you’re about to punch a wall–Jesus, Ed, take a breather.”

“They kicked me out of the band,” he mutters through gritted teeth, walking over to where Harris is eating a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of the TV and sitting down next to him, pressing a kiss to his curly hair. “Gave me some BS about taking a break, how I make all of them miserable, blah blah blah.”

“What’s ‘BS’?” Harris pipes up with a mouthful of cheesy pasta, but Eddie just mumbles, “don’t worry about it,” under his breath, and the boy goes back to watching a rerun of The Flintstones.

Wayne sighs, scratching at the scruff of his beard. “They said that you make them miserable?” he asks, wincing slightly. He knew that his nephew’s demeanor had changed considerably over the years; what was once teenage cynicism had slowly morphed into a constant state of anger and unhappiness. Wayne thought maybe it was just in his head, or just around him, but if Eddie’s best friends noticed it, too, it was more serious than he’d initially thought.

“More or less,” Eddie chuckles tersely. “And then they threw something in there about my–my job, about how I, um, pursue lots of different women, how I don’t support their choices when we all know it’ll take away from the band.”

“Support their choices?” Wayne echoes.

“Jeff’s girl is having a baby, and he wants to marry her,” Eddie explains, biting his thumbnail as he shakes his head incredulously. “So he’s gonna have less time for Corroded Coffin. How are we supposed to make something of ourselves if he’s gonna flake?”

“I don’t know if that’s flaking–”

“I mean, let me get this straight,” Eddie interrupts, standing up to pace. “Jeff’s a goddamn superhero for knocking someone up and taking time away from the band, but I’m the one who’s ruining it for everyone? Because I actually act like a rockstar?”

“Well, Rockstar,” Wayne crosses his arms over his chest angrily, “have you ever stopped to consider that maybe they’re right? Stopped to think about how your actions impact them? How would you feel if Jeff berated you for wanting to start a life with someone you care about?” He pauses for a moment, glancing at his grandson. “I’m not saying you have to get married or settle down, but if you aren’t gonna have a maternal figure in your boy’s life, you should at least show him how to respect women.”

Eddie snorts, grabbing his keys from his pocket and walking towards the door. “Like how women respected me? How all the girls at school called me a ‘freak’ or a ‘loser’?”

“You’re not in high school anymore!” Wayne shouts, snapping Harris from his Fred Flintstone-induced daze. “You’re a grown-ass man! With a kid! And if you spend the rest of your life jumping from girl to girl because of how you were treated fifteen years ago, you’re gonna continue to be one miserable son-of-a-b–gun.”

Ignoring his uncle’s rebuttal, Eddie waves Harris over. “C’mon, Har-Bear. We gotta get home. Say good-bye to Grampa Wayne”

“Ed, you don’t have to–”, 

“I’m really not interested in what you, or anyone else, has to say about my life,” he snaps, taking Harris’s empty bowl and tossing it in the sink with a clatter. “I’m doing the best I can; my kid is fed and clothed, and the lights and water are on in my place. Harris, I said, let’s go.” He takes his son’s hand and walks him to the car. 

“Daddy!” Harris whines as Eddie buckles him into his carseat. “I didn’t get to say goodbye to Grampa Wayne!”

Eddie lets out an exasperated sigh. “It’s okay, bud. We just gotta get home. Grampa understands.”

Harris bursts into tears, screaming and wailing at the top of his lungs. “I! WANT! GRAMPA!” he shrieks, kicking the back of Eddie’s seat over and over. “I don’t like you anymore, Daddy! You’re mean!”

Eddie tries to ignore the sting of Harris’s insult, reminding himself that he’s just a kid, but the words are like a thorn in his side. “I’m mean?”

“Mhm,” Harris says with another heaving sob. He tries to catch his breath between his words. “You…m-made…Grampa Wayne…yell. A-And th-then you…didn’t let me…say…goodbye!”

A dull ache thumps behind Eddie’s frontal lobe. “I’m sorry, Har. I should’ve let you say goodbye. We can call him when we get home, and you can say goodbye then.”

This seems to quell Harris’s tantrum, and his soft hiccups slowly fade out as he drifts off to sleep. Eddie gingerly unbuckles his seatbelt and lifts him. There will be a day where he won’t be able to lift him anymore, but he can’t bear the idea right now. 

He carries his son up the three flights of stairs and places him in his tiny race car bed. Eddie’s frameless mattress is right next to it, and he lays down and watches Harris’s chest expand and contract with each little breath. His bow-shaped lips are slightly pursed, and there’s a smudge of dried mucus under his nose, a remnant from when he was crying earlier. Eddie makes a mental note to wash off his face before he goes to school tomorrow. 

School—the thought of seeing you, really—had his stomach twisting in knots. Everything was fine until you waltzed into town, getting so bent out of shape over a one-night stand that you ratted him out to his bandmate. And now he looks like the asshole. 

He’ll sort it out tomorrow. He’ll march into the school and ask for—no, demand—that Harris is transferred to another classroom. And then he’ll never have to deal with you again. 

“I’m sorry, but all of the classes are full.”

Eddie raps his fingertips on the school secretary’s desk impatiently. “They’re…full?” He sputters, unable to believe his shitty luck. “Nah, there’s gotta be space for him somewhere. Can you check again?”

The secretary peers up at him over her coke-bottle glasses and rolls her eyes. “Mr. Munson, in order to remain in compliance with Indiana state standards, we are allowed a maximum of ten students per class. All of our classes already have ten students.”

“For fuck’s sake,” he hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Can’t we just swap him with a kid from another class? He can have their teacher and they can have his.”

“If a student from a different classroom moves or requests a transfer, we can discuss allowing Harris to switch. For now, we can just make a note of it in his file and let you know if that opportunity arises.”

Harris looks at his dad with a puzzled expression. “But, Daddy, I like my teacher! She’s really nice and she doesn’t get mad at me if I forget the rules.”

Heat creeps into Eddie’s face as he feels the secretary’s glare–a mixture of bewilderment and irritation that he’s wasting her time with his asinine request. He gives a resigned sigh and takes Harris’s hand as he walks him towards the classroom.

“Have a great day, Har-Bear!” he says, feigning enthusiasm as they reach the door. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Harris frowns. “You’re not gonna walk me inside like tomorrow?”

Eddie pauses for a second, brows pinching together in confusion before he realizes what Harris means. “You mean yesterday?” Eddie corrects him, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile at his son’s error. “I, uh, I think it’s better if I just stay out here.”

He waits for the impending tantrum, but to his surprise, Harris just shrugs and says, “Okay, bye!” and swings the door open, backpack bouncing as he speedruns into the room excitedly. Eddie can hear your voice, calm and patient, saying, “Harris, we use our walking feet in the classroom,” and his son replying with a chipper, “Oh, yeah! Sorry!”

He’s halfway down the hallway when you call out, “Mr. Munson?”

“Ya?” He stops walking, but doesn’t bother to turn around and face you. He stares at a bulletin board that reads Welcome Back to School in glittery red cut-out letters. Framing the message are little cardboard apples, each with a student’s name written on them in permanent marker. He spots the one that says Harris in the top left corner, and an unfamiliar twinge of pride sets in his chest. 

“I need you to sign Harris in,” you say, trying to keep your tone as even as you do with your students. “It’s school policy.”

“Christ on a cracker,” Eddie grumbles under his breath, spinning back on his heels to head back to the room. So much for avoiding you. You’re standing outside the door, and he immediately notices the way your maroon pants hug your curves in all the right places. If only her personality was as pleasant as her ass, he thinks bitterly, dragging his gaze to the clipboard in your hand. “I didn’t have to do this yesterday.”

“It was the first day of school. I forgot,” you admit. You’re not exactly sure why you’re giving him so much ammunition; perhaps it was the way he just conspicuously drank in the sight of you. “Kinda crazy around here.” You will yourself to shut up, practically clamping your lips together so you’ll stop talking.

Eddie scoffs, yanking the clipboard from your grasp. “Well, aren’t you Teacher of the Year,” he sneers, clicking the pen and scribbling his signature next to Harris’s name before jabbing the sheet back at you. 

Ignoring his insult, you force yourself to make eye contact as you inform him, “You’ll need to come back in later to sign him out.” 

He bites back an irritated laugh, shoving his hands in the pockets of his torn black jeans. He’s equipped with another comment ready to launch at you, one related to your rendezvous a week earlier, but he stops when he sees Harris tugging on the hem of your shirt with urgency.

“What if I’m with my new teacher?” he asks innocently, eyes wide with concern.

“What new teacher, honey?” you ask, crouching down to his level. “You mean Mr. Will?”

Harris shakes his head fervently. “Daddy asked the lady at the desk if I could have a new teacher instead of you.”

You expect Eddie to be embarrassed by his son’s candidness, but he doesn’t even appear to be fazed.  “It was your idea, Sweetheart,” he says with a sly grin. “I’m only making good on my word.”

“Well, look at you, keeping your promises,” you bite back instinctively, silently cursing yourself for snapping at him when you’re on the clock. He might be a total asshole, but he’s Harris’s dad first. At least while you’re at work. You turn your attention back to the little boy. “I’m sorry if we confused you, Harris. I’m your teacher, okay?”

Harris nods slowly, indicating that he doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, but he doesn’t press the issue further. His gaze flits between you and his father. “Why’d you call her ‘Sweetheart’?” he questions Eddie. “Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his own tongue. “Absolutely not,” he insists at the same time that you chime in with a firm, “no.”

“Then why–”

“It’s a nickname,” Eddie interrupts before Harris can say anything else. “Like how I call you ‘Har-Bear,’ or how I call Grampa Wayne ‘Old Man.’”

“Oh.” Harris chews on the answer before seemingly accepting it, giggling when he thinks of the way his grandpa grimaces at the name ‘Old Man.’. He smiles up at you. “Can I call you Sweetheart, too?”

You smile back at him, ruffling his curly hair. “That’s Ms. Sweetheart to you,” you tease, but as a four-year-old, he doesn’t pick up on your sarcasm.

“Okay, Ms. Sweetheart!” he laughs, and he mimics your movements and ruffles your hair right back before you stand up. How is this kid so precious when his dad is a complete and utter douchebag?

“Well,” Eddie says finally, crossing his arms over his chest, “I won’t forget about signing him out when I pick him up.”

“Try to get here on time today,” you retort, guiding Harris over to where Will is playing with the other students. “Really makes my job easier when the parents do what they’re supposed to do.”

He walks away with a haughty laugh. “Bold of you to assume I’d want to make anything easier for you.”

The rest of Eddie’s morning proceeds as normal. He picks up the product from Rick’s place and gives him his cut of what he made yesterday. Carefully separating it into small baggies, he delivers to his usuals: the guys who work down on the loading dock, the supergenius stoner who allegedly works as some top government official, the young teacher at Hawkins High who, more than once, has paid for her share with decent head behind the football field. Of course, Eddie keeps a bit hidden away for himself. Whoever coined the phrase don’t get high on your own supply never had a seemingly never-ending stash of weed.

He arrives back at his apartment just before noon, ready to crash on the couch and watch some mind-numbing TV. Opening the door, he kicks off his muddy sneakers to find his uncle sitting on the couch, twiddling his thumbs anxiously.

“Jesus, Wayne!” Eddie shouts, putting a hand to his chest. Giving him a key to the place suddenly didn’t seem like such a great idea. “Scared the shit outta me. What’re you doing here? Don’t you have work?” 

“Took the day off,” Wayne explains, reaching for the manila envelope that he’s placed on the cushion next to him. “Had, uh, an appointment.”

Based on the serious look on his face, Eddie assumes he’s talking about a doctor, and the blood drains from his face at the thought of Wayne battling a terminal illness. “Shit, you okay? Are you sick?”

“Sit down, Eddie.” He hands him the envelope without another word. Eddie does what he says, flipping up the edges of the silver fastener and taking out a small stack of stapled papers. He scans the documents, expecting to see some kind of medical test results. Instead, his eyes widen as he reads the opening lines:

TEMPORARY CUSTODY AGREEMENT: 

I, EDWARD JOHN MUNSON, the custodial parent of the following child(ren): HARRIS WAYNE MUNSON, do hereby give custody to WAYNE ALBERT MUNSON.

“What the hell is this?” Eddie snarls, clenching his fists and crumpling the papers. “Are you trying to take my kid away from me? Is this some kind of sick revenge because of our fight yesterday?”

Wayne shakes his head. “Ed, this has nothing to do with what happened yesterday. I’ve had this meeting with the lawyer for a while now.” He lets out a long, tired sigh. “When you got arrested a couple months ago, it made me realize how much I was turnin’ a blind eye to your…business.”

“You mean when Hopper let me off with a warning?” Eddie reminds him. He rolls his eyes impatiently, but his bouncing leg gives away how nervous he is to have this conversation. “The Chief isn’t gonna let anyone lock me up just for selling pot. I won’t sell the hard shit anymore, and Rick knows that.”

But the older man presses on, ignoring his nephew’s rebuttal. “When your dad got arrested, I was lucky that the state gave you to me instead of sticking you in foster care. But we were both twenty-odd years younger; I don’t know they’d be so willing to let an old man take care of a four-year-old without it in writing.” 

The mention of his father has Eddie seeing red. “I’m not my dad.” he spits. “My dad didn’t fucking take me to school. Couldn’t even be bothered to make sure I had everything I needed. Food, water, shelter? That piece of shit didn’t give a rat’s ass.”

“But he did sell drugs. And that’s how he got busted,” Wayne points out, voice rising a bit. “And Hopper’s nearly as old as I am. He’s gonna be retiring soon; we can’t keep countin’ on him to cover for you.” His eyes are misty with tears as he says, “all I want is for Harris to have the same kind of protection that you had. Just until you get a job that doesn’t put you at odds with the law. It’s all temporary, see?” He motions to the first bolded word at the top of the document.

But Eddie’s too enraged to care, tearing up the papers and letting them fall to the floor like legal confetti. “I’ve gotta go,” he hisses, grabbing his keys so quickly that they clatter among the sea of document scraps. “You should go, too.”

“I could get you some work at the plant,” Wayne offers meekly. It’s not the first time he’s extended the opportunity, but he figures it’s worth a shot. “Just somethin’ while you look for what you really wanna–”

“I said, leave!” Eddie shouts. “I don’t need you poking your nose in my life anymore. My life works for me, and it works for Harris, and there’s no reason to turn everything upside down.”

“You think his dad gettin’ thrown in prison won’t turn his life upside down?!” Wayne snaps, finally unloading everything onto Eddie. “You think being torn away from the people he loves won’t hurt him? I’d do anything to keep that boy safe, just like I did for you, you ungrateful sonofabitch.”

Eddie’s response flies off of his tongue before he can bite it back. “And look how that turned out for me.”

A pained expression crosses Wayne’s face, but he recovers quickly. “I’ll always love you, Ed. No matter what.” He pauses. “But I don’t like who you are anymore. Ever since you moved back here, all you’ve done is push away the people who care about you.” He starts towards the door before briefly turning back. “When you’re ready to let people in, to be happy again, you let me know.”

Eddie scoops up his keys and flings open the door, letting it slam behind him. His fingers tremble as he fumbles for the pack of cigarettes in his back pocket. It takes a few tries before he can steady his hands enough to light one, and he inhales deeply to try and calm his nerves. How could Wayne possibly think that Harris wasn’t safe with him? After everything Eddie had sacrificed for his son; the dreams he gave up, the life he let go of…

Did anyone actually believe that he still wanted to be here, in Hawkins, the town bursting with haunting memories? Every time he drove near the high school, he could practically hear the echoing taunts of freak and loser emanating from its hallowed halls. No; he was only here because he couldn’t raise a kid alone. Apparently, Wayne thought he was incapable altogether.

He goes through another three cigarettes on the ride to the preschool, snuffing out the last one with the toe of his scuffed Vans outside the entrance. 

“I need to sign out my son, Harris Munson,” he tells the secretary, who gives him a bemused glare. “Family emergency.” 

The secretary nods, picking up the phone without taking her eyes off of Eddie, as though she’s concerned that he’ll bolt if she lets him out of her sight. He hears her relaying the message that Harris’s dad is here to pick him up early, but he’s too busy pacing back and forth to eavesdrop for a response.

All he can think about is how it would feel to sign those papers, basically admitting defeat. Admitting that he couldn’t handle fatherhood. Just because he stepped up when Harris’s mom wasn’t able to be a parent didn’t mean he was a good dad. It just meant he stuck around.

Maybe his presence in Harris’s life was doing more harm than good.

“Mr. Munson?” Your voice draws him out of his rumination. You’re holding a now-empty Tupperware that once contained a salad; dressing smeared on the inside, and your eyes hold nothing but concern. Nothing in your body language demonstrates any sort of contempt, and Eddie has to wonder how bad he looks for you to not hate him, even briefly. “Is everything okay?”

It’s then that he realizes that his lip is bleeding from biting it so hard, and his cheeks are wet with tears.

“Don’t you have a classroom of kids to watch?” he sneers, watching as you wince. “Really vying for that Teacher of the Year spot, aren’t ya?”

“It’s my lunch break…” you start before realizing that you have no need to defend yourself to him. “Why are you so mean to me?” You keep your tone as hushed as possible, not wanting to attract any unwanted listeners. “Seriously, what did I do to you?”

“Besides ruin my life?”

You scoff incredulously, annoyance creeping back into your posture. For some reason, this bothers Eddie less than seeing you worried about him. “What are you talking about?”

“Your little gossip session with Jeff?” he spits back. “The one where you told him I called you a frigid bitch? Or maybe the one where you painted me to be some asswipe womanizer all because I didn’t call you?” He rakes his fingers through his long brown curls. “I have no one now; are you happy? Christ, you’ve lived in this goddamn town for two minutes and you’ve managed to turn my best friends against me.”

“I didn’t do shit,” you fume, whispering the last word in case children are passing by. “I told Jess, and I didn’t know she was at her sister’s place. And the only reason Jeff even knew about our night together was because I needed a ride after you basically kicked me out of your apartment.”

“You weren’t supposed to sleep over,” he murmurs so softly, you can barely hear him. 

“Why not? What would’ve been so bad about that?”

He doesn’t have the chance to answer–or come up with a half-hearted excuse–before Harris is flinging himself into his legs, wrapping his arms around his waist in a tight hug. “Daddy! Mr. Will said I’m going home, but none of my friends are going home.”

Eddie scoops up his son, resting him on his hip. “That’s because you and I are having a super-special, super-secret Daddy-Son Day at the zoo!” he whispers in his ear, and Harris beams in response. Eddie’s own father never took him out of school and brought him on fun outings. The only time he got out early was when they were on the run from the cops or evading an eviction notice over unpaid rent. Zoo trips? Unheard of. So there, Wayne.

“Have fun!” you chirp, swallowing your anger for Harris’s sake, and for your own. “I can’t wait to hear all about it, Harris.” You rub his back gently and walk back to your classroom. Like most of your encounters with Eddie Munson, you leave with more questions than answers.

“Daddy, look at that!” Harris shouts happily, pointing to a flamingo stretching and flapping its pink wings. “Look how fluffy it is!”

Eddie squints in the sun to get a better view. “Yeah,” he agrees with a laugh, squeezing Harris’s hand. “Fluffy like a teddy bear.”

Harris frowns, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “No, Daddy. That’s a bird, not a bear.”

“You’re right,” Eddie says, trying to hold back his laughter. “You’re really learnin’ a lot in school, huh?”

“Mhm,” Harris says, leading his dad to the next exhibit. A hippo pops its head out of the water and glances around curiously before lowering back down. “Ms. Sweetheart is the bestest teacher ever! She sings songs, an’ reads to us, an’ she’s even helping me write my name!”

At the mention of your inadvertent nickname, Eddie’s jaw clenches. It’s my own stupid fault for bringing up school, he thinks bitterly, but brushes past it. “Are you having fun on our Daddy-Son Day?”

“Most fun ever!” Harris jumps up and down with each syllable. “Did you and Grampa Wayne do Daddy-Son days?”

Eddie shakes his head. “Har, remember? Grampa Wayne is actually my uncle, not my dad.”

“Oh, yeah,” Harris says, slowing his pace slightly. “But he was kinda like your dad, right? He took care of you like he’s your dad?”

“Y-Yeah,” Eddie nods. “Yeah, he took care of me like a dad.”

“Where is your dad? Why didn’t he take care of you?”

“He, um, he couldn’t,” Eddie offers lamely. “He didn’t know how to be a dad. So Grampa Wayne decided to raise me.” As he says the words, he feels sick. He’s tried so hard not to be like his old man–his biological one–and yet he’d basically become a carbon copy. Just a guy in way over his head, failing to be the man his son needed him to be. “You know I love you, right?”

“I know,” Harris chirps happily. “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Can we go see the penguins now?”

“Sure thing, bud.”

On the way back from the zoo, with Harris nodding off in the backseat after the self-proclaimed “best day of his life,” Eddie pulls into the record store parking lot. It’s changed quite a bit since his younger years, but the music selection is still the best this town has to offer. He peruses their metal section, a snoozing Harris resting his cheek against his chest. Plucking a few cassettes from the bin, he places them on the counter and digs into his back pocket for his wallet. A handwritten HELP WANTED sign catches his eye.

“You guys hiring?” he asks the bored teenager behind the register.

“Yup,” comes the monotone reply, not making eye contact as he rings up the tapes.

Eddie waits a beat before continuing. “Is there an application or something?” The cashier pulls a sheet of paper from behind the sign and hands it to him. “Cool. I’ll drop it off tomorrow.” Eddie takes the bag of cassettes and shuffles back towards the car.

The application feels like it’s staring at him from where he’s set it on the passenger seat. The idea of being a minimum wage employee makes him cringe; it’ll probably take him weeks to earn what he makes in a day for Rick. He glances in the rearview mirror at his peacefully sleeping son.

“Only for you, Har-Bear.”

--

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[thebubblesareevil]

Family is more than just a word. It means something…

After his “mortal” death, Chronos watched as his children lived their lives, causing chaos among the realms. He watched, and he mourned. He blamed himself, his actions towards his children as the cause of such tragedies. He watched as his children fought and killed, loved and hated, and eventually died. Some joined him in the infinite realms, their forms forever altered. For those who remained he watched… his granddaughter was still new when he first met her.

She was practicing skipping stones on a lake deep in the forest. She was angry that she was not allowed to train with the other warriors. She was too young, or so her mother claimed. After one particularly epic failure she was startled at the sound of laughter from the tree above her. She spun around, stone raised, ready to attack, she scanned the trees searching for the source… There! She threw the stone with all her strength. The blue figure did not move, only catching the stone in its hand before smiling at her.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got there.” It said. She let out an angry growl.

“IDENTIFY YOURSELF!” She shouted, the intruder just sat there. It’s long purple cape draping down around it’s perch on the branch, it’s blue skin glowing from the light breaching the leaves. It tilted its head, to the side.

“What are you doing all the way out here, shouldn’t you be back home with the others?” She crossed her arms in a huff.

“I’m training of course, I’m going to a great warrior.” She froze for a moment before pointing an accusing finger towards the stranger. “You didn’t answer my question!” It laughed at her, further angering the young child. “What’s so funny?!” She asked stomping her foot.

“I don’t recall you ever asking a question my dear.” The child froze thinking for a moment, before her eyes widened and a slight blush of embarrassment covered her cheeks. She puffed up her cheeks and asked her question.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” The being hummed.

“Those are pretty big questions, for someone so small” the girl gave an indignant shout, ready to protest her size. The intruder looked her in the eye, two red orbs glowing with power. She froze.

“I think I will save the question of who I am for a later time. As for the reason I why I am here… I came to see you my dear.” The girl took a step back, one of the first lessons she was taught was when to fight and when to run. She didn’t think either would help in this instance as the intruder gently glided to the ground, it’s boots not making a sound as it stepped on the leaves below. She gulped.

“There’s no need to be afraid, I wish you no harm.” It made its way over to the waters edge before bending over to pick up a stone. “It only seemed like you might like some help, there’s a trick to a proper skip after all.” It threw the stone and her jaw dropped as it skipped its way to the other side of the lake.

“That was amazing! How did you do that?!” She looked up at the stranger in awe. It smiled gesturing a hand for her to come closer. The girl didn’t know how much time had passed, it felt like hours before she managed an impressive 7 skips before her stone sank. She let out a joyous laugh, hugging her stranger. It wrapped its arms around her, before whispering in her ear.

“I must go now, my dear. But I promise I will return, after all family sticks together.” She let go of her stranger intending to ask what they meant but they were gone. She frantically looked around for the being until she heard a shout.

“Diana! Come child! It’s time for lunch!” Diana looked around one more time before rushing to her mothers side.

“What we’re you doing out there darling?” Diana opened her mouth, intending to tell her mother all about the strange intruder. She stopped.

“Just skipping stones, I managed to get 7 whole skips!” Her mother smiled.

“That’s quite impressive, you’ll have to show me later on” Diana gave her mother a wide grin.

—————

Chronos watched as his granddaughter make her way back to her home with a sad smile upon his face. He knew what was in store for her, of the intense training in the coming years. She reminded him so much of her father. The smile slipped from his face. He would not let her story unfold as his did. There was little he could do without jeopardizing the future, but he would do what he could.

He won’t let her turn into a weapon. He won’t let her be used.

———-

Years passed before her stranger appeared again. Once more she was skipping stones on the lake, though she a bit bigger than she was last time.

Diana froze when she heard the sound of footsteps approach from behind. Diana sighed.

“I know what you are going to say sister, but I won’t take back my words. She Alcibie cheated and you know it.”

“Hmmm, those are rather bold accusations don’t you think?” Replied a voice, one from a memory long passed. She quickly spun around.

“You!… you’re real… I thought…” the intruder, a man, if you recalls her lessons correctly. She takes a fighting stance. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, you are an intruder, and you will identify yourself!” She commands, drawing the sword at her side.

The man tilts his head, completely ongoing the blade he makes his way to the edge of the lake. Just as before he bent down and picked up a stone. Diana growled in frustration.

“No games this time! Answer me!” He looked back.

“How can I answer you if you have not asked your question? Besides I think there is something else on your mind today.” Diana slowly lowered her blade with a huff.

“And what business is it of yours? My mind is my own. Tell me how you made it through the protections!”

“How indeed?” He said, tossing the stone across the lake, just as before. “Now what troubles you my dear?” Diana eased her stance, but did not lower her blade.

“What business is it of yours?” He shrugged.

“Curiosity, nothing more my dear.” He turned to face her “you can lower your blade. If I wished you harm, I would have done so when we met last, when you did not carry a blade” Diana huffed, lowering her blade. He handed her a stone, perfect for skipping.

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, but it couldn’t be, as the sun barely moved. Eventually Diana grew frustrated and threw a stone so hard it flew to the middle of the lake, not once touching the water until it sank.

“She cheated” she stated “she cheated and she didn’t even hide it. Such an act is dishonorable for a warrior of themascyra.”

“Is that so?” He asked

“Of course!” She shot back “she knew she was going to lose and she took the cowards way out and cheated!” He calmly looked over at her, tilting his head just so. Diana blushed, embarrassed at her outburst.

“Is it so cowardly to do what it takes to live?” He looked towards the horizon “Have you been told the story of the mad titan?” Diana thought for a moment, nodding.

“The titan Kronos went mad with the knowledge that one of his children would kill him, to stop this he ate them. In the end he was outsmarted by Zeus and killed in the war against his children” She explained.

“But he cheated, didn’t he? He escaped the titans grasp because his mother fed her husband stones instead.” He said with a deep sadness in his voice “It was through trickery that he defeated the mad titan, doesn’t that make him a coward?” He asked. “He even had back up, don’t you think he should have fought his father one on one?”

“Of course not! But that’s completely different!”

“Is it?” He asked

“Of course! He was faced with impossible odds! Kronos was a titan!”

“I see, so trickery is allowed when faced with an opponent stronger than you.” He surmised.

“Exactly!” Diana paused “oh…but she wasn’t facing an impossible enemy, she was facing her student.”

“What was the purpose of this fight? Was it to test your skill? Or was it to teach you?” He asked.

“We fight everyday, it was just a normal spar, but this time she completely changed her approach. I had the upper hand and she…” Diana paused.

“And she increased the difficulty.” He smiled “Take heart my dear, it means you’re improving.” He looked up at the sky “I do believe our time is up, return to your teacher.” Diana nodded, she turned to head back before pausing.

“You never did tell me who you are.” She said as she turned back but once more he was gone. Suddenly she heard the sounds of the forest, she didn’t notice before… how quiet it was.

Diana tucked that information away, in the meantime she needed to apologize to her teacher.

——————-

And so it went that through the years whenever Diana’s frustrations grew too great, or she simply needed a moment away, she would go to the lake and skip stones with her friend. It was peaceful, until it wasn’t and one day when a man breached the shores of themascyra Diana learned the truth of her birth. She journeyed to the world of men and fell in love, in that time away from her mother, away from the pressures of the throne, she thought of her friend and she remembered.

He called her family… but he was not Zeus.

She began to think of every interaction they had, trying to find a clue as to his identity and the more she thought about it, only one thing came to mind.

No matter how long they talked, no matter how much time they spent at that lake, only moments passed when she returned.

She finally had her answer, she wished she didn’t.

So after they won the war Diana went out one night and found a lake. She sat down, and waited, it didn't take long. She felt foolish for not noticing it before... the sudden silence from the world around her any time he appeared. She sighed looking up at the moon as they sat in silence.

"So you finally have your answer." Diana nodded. "Speak your mind child."

"You are Kronos, father of the Gods, what do you want from me? I won't help you. I won't betray humanity to further your madness." He sighed.

"Long before I was father of the Gods I was time itself, Chronos, and in death I returned to my true form." He looks at Diana with a sad smile "Madness is a disease of the flesh, something I am distinctly lacking these days." As though to emphasize his point, his legs vanished, replaced by a wispy tail. "Before the madness took me I greatly desired to be a father, perhaps it was my greed that led me to you. A granddaughter, untainted my sins." Diana clenched her fists. Chronos frowned.

"I will leave if that is your desire, what I wanted from you was a family. That is not something that can be accomplished through force." Diana stood, turning to face the Titan.

"I don't know if I will ever trust you again, knowing what I do now. You have done me no harm in the years I have known you... I will not promise anything, all I ask is some time to think, and decide for myself what to believe." Chronos nodded in understanding.

"You have all the time in the universe, my dear." Diana smiled.

"Thank you Lord Chronos." she began to bow, only to be stopped.

"You have not bowed to me once in all the years you have known me, there is no sense in starting now." He gave her one last soft smile before he turned to leave. "Ah, before I forget. I go by the name Clockwork these days, a bit less alarming, don't you think?" He smirked. Before she could reply he was gone, time resuming it's flow.

Diana smirked. "Clockwork, huh? I like it."

To be Continued...

Part 2

[petalsthefish]

“Just” Partners

Day 2 of Jily Week 2024 (hosts: @sunshinemarauder & @kay-elle-cee) with the prompt: partners

Read on A03

“Ugh, it’s you again,” Lily Evans said, rolling her eyes.

“Come off it—I know you fancy me,” James grinned as he dropped into the seat next to her.

Lily immediately buried her face in her hands as soon as he openly checked her out with his trademark sly wink.

“Anyone but you.”

At least that what James thought he heard slip from her mouth. It only made him grin harder. He saw that she’d covered her hickey’s up with make up. Clever witch. She’d have more before the night was up though, especially since they were going to walk back to the common room alone after detention.

James and Lily loved to be alone, together.

“I thought Remus was with me tonight.” She spoke loudly enough that time that he could decipher it.

“I asked him to take it.” James let his right hand cup her knee. “I didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier.”

“What conversation?” She half laughed, half cried into her hands. “There were no coherent words being formed!”

“Keep it professional, Evans. We have an hour of detention to get through,” James said. “I don’t want to remember how much moaning you were doing.

A muffled sigh escaped from behind her fingers as Lily stiffened, feeling James’ fingers casually slide up her thigh. Her school skirt bunched around his knuckles. She peered at him with one green eye through the gaps in her red-painted nails.

“Shouldn’t you keep it professional?” she argued. “Someone could walk in right now.”

James raised both his hands innocently. “They know we’re head boy and girl, Evans. They won’t question us being together for detention observation.”

Lily stayed rigid, pretending to study the detention list. “They might if they notice the head boy’s hands sneaking up my skirt.”

“My hands are not up your skirt,” James protested, waving his free hands in the air.

She shot him a look that was a mix of irritation and defiance. “They were,” she reminded him.

He wiggled two fingers in a ‘come here’ motion between their bodies. “I didn’t hear you complaining a few hours ago. Quite the opposite in fact.”

Lily put a hand in his face, stopping his mouth from latching into hers. “No.”

“Come on, Lil.” He said against her palm but she didn’t move it, so he licked from her wrist up to her fingers.

She cried out from surprise and he grinned wickedly as she wiped her hand on her skirt while glaring at him. “Keep your mouth and hands to yourself, James Potter.”

And she meant it.

James raised a brow, wondering what had gotten under her skin. Just a few hours ago she’d been the one shoving his hand under her skirt for the first time. Merlin, he’d almost died there and then. She’d been the one encouraging his overzealous mouth with her cute little moans and perfect little smiles.

“What’s up with you?” He asked, losing his nerve and snapping like a child.

She retorted back sharply, “Maybe if you’d had the decency to stick around after a good snog, I wouldn’t be so mad.”

“I had Quidditch,” he countered. “What was I supposed to do? Be late? They’d ask why, I’ve never ever been late. Not once in the last five years.”

“So,” she stuck her tongue out at him, “I was having a good time and you just—left me.”

Lily looked dejected and James felt a bit embarrassed. Only a bit.

“Did you want me to walk up thirty minutes late to quidditch and have to explain why I was late?” James countered, “because last I checked we were still snogging in secret. I’m late, and everyone will know something is going on. Wondering leads to questions. Questions lead to answers. Are you ready for me to answer those questions?”

“No,” she replied uneasily, “Yes? I don’t know.” Her head was back in her hands.

“What are we, Evans?” James demanded.

“We’re platonic,” she answered firmly. “We’re partners.”

“Partners who snog a lot,” James said, propping his feet up on the desk. “So I don’t think we can call this platonic anymore.”

“What would you call it?” Lily asked as the first person entered the room.

“A situational partnership.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Not as stupidly delusional as trying to call us friends.”

They both stopped talking as the boy got closer to their table positioned near the teachers podium in the room. James flipped the clipboard to the young blonde boy, who nervously signed in under the watchful eyes of the head students. If the kid noticed any tension between them, he wisely said nothing.

Lily cleared her throat before speaking to the student. “Professor Binns asked us to have you sort through the old school newspapers to find articles on the school choir history. I’ve set them up on the back table.”

The boy nodded glumly. “Yes, ma’am.”

James waited for Albert Hitchkens to get settled at his station before turning to the red-haired girl beside him. “So, what would you call us?”

Her cheeks flushed, and she avoided eye contact with James, focusing instead on Albert. “Friends.”

“Do you often let your friends finger you in the hallways then?” James asked casually, knowing his words would hit her just right.

He was rewarded when Lily’s head snapped around, her green eyes wide with surprise from his vulgarity as she whisper-yelled, “James!”

He shrugged, grinning. “Just making sure we’re on the same page.”

“I’m gonna—” Her threat was interrupted by another student entering the room.

Time passed.

The final four students for detention arrived and signed in. Lily set an hourglass for each to ensure they served their full hour. It was a relatively easy night; the detainees were mostly homework cheaters and fanged frisbee throwers.

James relaxed, leaning back in his chair while using his wand to create colorful smoke patterns in the air. Beside him, Lily watched, her stern expression softening as the colors soothed her. James grinned sideways at her before drawing an image not appropriate for detention.

She smacked him on the back of his head, making him shake out his hair. “You know I make you laugh,” he teased, enjoying the reaction he got from her.

“Careful,” she warned with a hint of humor in her eyes, “or I’ll give you detention.”

James leaned in, whispering, “I bet I could talk my way out of it.”

Lily wrinkled her nose in a playful manner. “How?”

“I have this totally platonic thing with a head girl…” He didn’t finish his sentence before she smacked him again, this time with a full smile.

“Fine, you absolute bastard,” she sighed, “I guess we’re partners, or whatever.”

“Partners,” James said, crossing his arms and giving her a challenging look. “Really? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“Are you going to be late to quidditch every once in a while?” She mouthed back.

He opened and closed his mouth several times before forcing out a pathetic, “fine.”

“You mean it?” She didn’t trust him. Probably for the best.”

James took her hand under the table, squeezing it. “I mean it, if you promise to stop saying we’re just partners. Or just friends. That shit has been killing me, Lily.”

“What did you want me to say, James?”

“That I’m your boyfriend!”

He said it louder than intended, causing the room to fall silent. Lily tucked her hair behind her ear, struggling to keep her composure. The others went back to work, but James noticed the paper rustling was kept to a minimum.

“Fine,” she said in a soft whisper, “you’re my boyfriend.”

Score!

James leaned back in his seat with a satisfied grin. “See how easy that was, Evans? I knew you fancied me.”

He might’ve deserved that next smack across the back of his head.

[icomeandg0]

can you do a story about all the links with their readers from their times like in ur most recent story reacting to their reader getting hurt or if they get married or smth both is ok aswell

My first request!

Thank you Anon for sending me this request, I'll gladly write the links reacting to their readers getting hurt!

First Trio:

Time, Warriors, Twilight

Content under cut:

Time:

It was a nice day.

However…

The girls were at the nearby springs to freshen up after a few days. Unlike the boys who could last a few weeks...maybe a few months at max without showering they needed to get out and wash themselves.

But they encountered a few monsters that they were confident in beating which turned in to a horde, monster after monster, they wouldn't stop coming!

"Where the hell did they all come from?" SSy/n uses her bow to get rid of a few that were surrounding the others, "This is insane!" FSY/n exclaimed "Yeah? It would be nice if SOMEONE could jump in and help!" BOTWY/n growled as she uses her weapon to eliminate a Bokoblin.

"You know I can't fight!" FSY/n huffed as she stood behind SSY/n at a good few feet away. "I think the WITCH can use her magic to eliminate the ratchet creatures!" "It doesn't work like that. I just used a big spell recently, I need to recharge" HWY/n uses her mace to hit another Bokoblin that exploded into purple smoke immediately. "How long do you need to recharge for?!”

“Ugh, it’s gonna take a few more hours.”

“It’s already been 2 days since! You’re just using this as an excuse so we have to suffer!” FSY/n protested

“Someone lead the monsters to her.” HWY/n huffed as she dodged more of the Bokoblins attacks. “How dare you say that—AH! ARROW INCOMING!” FSY/n yanks SSY/n in front of her as a shield as SSY/n was in mid shot.

SSY/n let go of the string to the bow accidentally aiming it at OOTY/n.

“ARGH!”

OOTY/n holds her side, immediately regretting it as she touches the arrow that’s stuck in her side. BOTWY/n looks at TPY/n with a knowing look which causes TPY/n to nod and run into the forest. “Someone cover her!” FSY/n yells out, still hiding behind SSY/n. LTTPY/n was quick to act and immediately went to get in front of the older Y/n but it wasn’t too long before the dragon arrived.

The monsters shriek at the sight of the scaly beast and are about to flee but D/N pulls her head back a bit before letting out a powerful flamethrower-like move. Majority if not all monsters were eliminated from sight, “Nice one!” LOZY/n gave a thumbs up to the dragon who huffed proudly, smoke coming out of her snout.

“Ugh, I swear I’m fine. I just need to pull it out” OOTY/n says, trying to assure everyone so they wouldn’t panic. “No, not here. If you pull it out, you may bleed out and we have no equipment on us…surprisingly” HWY/n looked over to LTTPY/n who looked away, “Well…If I would’ve known we would get hurt I would have brought my bag” 

“Okay, so what now?” WWY/n asked, “Doesn’t one of the boys know healing magic?” “Oh, Hyrule?” LOZY/n asked, earning a pat on the head from BOTWY/n with a knowing smile. “Yeah, whatever his name was. We’ll get you to him” HWY/n suggested. “Alright, just promise me one thing. Make sure Time doesn’t find out I was hurt” OOTY/n sighs “Why? Shouldn’t he know since you two are close friends?” LOZY/n asked cluelessly. “Oh hun, trust me. It’s best if he doesn’t find out” OOTY/n warned lightly, BOTWY/n was going to push it but HWY/n spoke. “Alright, let’s get her back to camp. Keep it on the down low” Everyone nods in agreement.

“You can change back” HWY/n points to D/N who huffed, walking back into the forest.

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Every boy was scattered, however no Time in sight so they rushed OOTY/n into the nearby tent, however it didn’t slip past Legend who had his eyes on them since the start. “Psst, Wild.” Legend caught the attention of the cook who was cutting up veggies. Legend tilts his head over to the tent, “Check it out” Wild really didn’t want to but seeing BOTWY/n repeatedly looking in the tent made him curious.

Wild settles the knife down before walking over to her, “What’s going on?” BOTWY/n turns to him, “Ah! Well…” BOTWY/n moves out the way for Wild to look, he peeks inside to see OOTY/n with an arrow pretty deep in her side. “Are you Hyrule?” OOTY/n tilts her head. Wild pops his head out of view and looks at BOTWY/n with a curious and worried gaze, “What happened?” “Uh, I’ll explain that later. Where’s Hyrule anyway?” “He’s helping with Time” BOTWY/n looks defeated, “Of course he is” 

BOTWY/n turns to the others in the tent, “Bad news, Healer is with Time” “So? Go get him!” FSY/n says her brows furrowed, “I can't, genius. If one of us goes then he’ll probably think we’ve all returned and try to find OOTY/n!” “So get him to go” FSY/n pointed to Wild who was taken aback because he was caught off guard. “Uh, Me?” “Yeah! So you better start running, go now!” FSY/n says “Can you go get him, please is what she meant to say” Wild sighs and nods.

Wild walks further, trying to spot Hyrule at least but he finds the pair. Time snaps his head towards the sound of the footsteps, his long ears twitching just slightly. “Hey…Old man, can I borrow Hyrule for a sec?” Hyrule perked up curiously, Time looked between the two before shrugging. “Go ahead” Wild nods, trying his hardest to remain calm. Hyrule got up and walked towards Wild about to ask what he needed but Wild rushed him away quickly. “Wild.” Time called out, making Wild tense and looking at him. “Have the girls returned yet? They’re taking a long while ""A-ah, I’m sure they’ll be on their way! You know how girls can be!” Wild smiles awkwardly and before Time could continue Wild rushes Hyrule back to camp.

“What’s going on?” Hyrule asked, “Just, go in there” Wild points to the tent. Hyrule opened the flap of the tent and his eyes widened at the amount of people inside the small place. “Oh hello, Are you Hyrule?” OOTY/n smiles softly despite the arrow still deep in her side. “Ah-yeah, That’s me” Hyrule nods timidly. “That’s great, mind pulling this out nicely for me?” She grins as she points to the arrow.

“Uh–sure! Let me see what I can do” Hyrule nods as he crouches down near.

However the problem wasn’t OOTY/n with the arrow…instead it was Time who was lurking around, sensing the atmosphere was off around the camp. He glances around…everything was in place, too in place.

“Rancher. Have you seen Wild?” “Wild? Haven’t seen him in a bit but if I had to guess he would be cooking up something or out doing trouble” Twilight suggested which earned a grunt from Time who walked past.

Stopping in front of the cutting board where Wild was just before he looks around…eyes landing on Legend.

“Vet? Have you seen Wild?” Time asked firmly which earned a small shrug, his points to the tent nearby.

“Girls are back, Wild rushed Hyrule in that nearby tent—“ With no time to waste, Time walked over to the tent with a stern expression.

Why were they all back? No one told him so? OOTY/n would always come to find him…

“ARGH!” A sharp cry came from the tent which sounded an awful lot like OOTY/n. He yanked the opening of the tent open to reveal Hyrule wrapping OOTY/n’s waist as the blood began to leak through already.

“What happened?!” Time came forth and kneeled in front of her, hands just hovering over her wound.

“Time, Questions can be asked later” HWY/n comments as she settles her hand on his shoulder, he takes a second before he groans. “Fine, I expect answers after” Time holds OOTY/n’s hand which made her sigh.

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Hyrule finishes with his healing and he sighs. “There, it should be good now.” Hyrule says, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you, you were a big help” OOTY/n reaches over and pats his head causing him to grow flustered.

“Better give those two some space” FSY/n stands up and it doesn't take long for her to leave. “No, no. You can stay—“ “Yes, leave.” Time cuts through.

Soon it was just the two of them and OOTY/n was internally whining…knowing how her Link is, especially when she gets hurt and he isn’t aware.

“I knew I should’ve come—“ “And watch us bathe? Now that’s a new low” OOTY/n tries to lighten up the mood but she receives a disappointed look, she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Okay, okay…sorry” 

“You don’t take things seriously, that arrow was deep in your side. It could have been worse and I wouldn’t have been there to protect you.” He gently cups OOTY/n’s cheek with his calloused hand. She nuzzles into the rough skin slightly before sighing, “You worry too much, It’s like you don’t trust me to make my own decisions.” “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just I don’t want to see you get hurt when I should be the one by your side, the one to protect you always.”

“Sometimes you aren’t there–” “And that’s when I worry the most” Time cuts her off making her huff, she grabs his face which startles him and brings him closer. “Oh will you just stop that?! I’ll have you know I’m strong by myself but I also have others by my side. One of them fought in the war with heels and that’s something” She points out earning a slight chuckle from him.

“See? You should keep smiling, keep having a stern face and you’ll get wrinkles” She grins which earned her a sour expression from Time, “Oh stop that face!” She pokes his cheeks trying to make him smile but he makes it look like he’s straining. He wraps his arm around just above your wound and pulls you down on top of him causing you to squeal from being yanked down onto his armor chestplate. 

“By the three–Take this off sometimes geez!” “No can do, I need it to protect myself…Maybe I’ll let you borrow it sometime, it’s clear you need it” he grazes his fingers across the wound making you flinch, you smack his chest plate and immediately regret it afterwards. “See? Protected.” “Oh you cheeky bastard.”

Twilight.

Well this wasn’t supposed to happen.

These monster’s were really starting to piss him off.

Coming out of nowhere and attacking? It’s crazy!

Of course he wasn’t seen on the battlefield but Wolfie was there, Mauling each monster in his way will definitely leave a bad taste in his mouth afterwards but he’ll deal with that later. He needed to make sure everyone was okay and no one got hurt.

Especially TPY/n.

He wasn’t about to let anyone get hurt but he had to make sure TPY/n wasn’t going to get seriously hurt.

“Ugh, can we catch a rest?!” FSY/n was on top of a rock, dodging at the rocks being thrown at her, “I think you’re having it easy up there!” BOTWY/n was wrestling with a bokoblin since she had misplaced her mace earlier.

“Maybe pick up a weapon and you won’t be struggling as much!” Wild teased as he went to slash at the monster…resulting in his sword breaking. “Crap.” He muttered, someone internally screaming in the background.

‘Kids…’ Twilight grumbled as he jumped from monster to monster.

He looked around just as everything cleared up, he couldn’t seem to find TPY/n. With his snout he sniffed the air to try and find her scent, he smelt that familiar scent with a hint of blood. He follows the scent, “Wolfie's got something!” Wind follows the wolf who was racing towards the forest, hopping over the bush and losing Wolfie Wind huffed. “I lost the wolf!”

‘Wolfie’ looked around before shifting back. Twilight sighed and looked around the place, The dense trees and everything wasn’t helping but he pushed forwards, determined to find TPY/n. He heard a twig snap and he whipped his head around to see TPY/n limping back toward camp, Twilight walks behind her and catches her by the waist.

“Hey, How’d you wonder all the way over here?” Twilight smiles at her despite her alarmed gaze, it softened after a bit as she sighed. “Had to get away quickly, but they followed me! They did a number on my arm.” She shows him a large cut caused by the claws of the Lizalfos, Twilight’s brows furrow as he looks at the cut, “That’s no good. Let’s get you back to the others” With no hesitation, Twilight swooped her off her feet and carried her bridal style.

“W-woah! Hey!”

“By the three goddesses, are you kidding?” FSY/n huffed as she looked at the cut on TPY/n’s arm. “Luckily, it’s not a very deep cut but it’s best to keep it clean to prevent it from getting infected or irritated.” HWY/n analysed the cut, Hyrule perked up. “I’ll get some stuff” Hyrule raced towards the nearby tent. “Huh? Oh alright then” HWY/n nods, awaiting for Hyrule to come back.

As everyone was distracted, Twilight sat beside TPY/n who was waiting patiently. “Does it hurt?” “Not really, It did sting earlier but it died down now so it’s fine” TPY/n informed “No need to worry, alright?” He nods but sighs, “I still can’t help it though. Just knowing that you were in any danger makes me worried. Just promise me you'll be careful next time or you'll always come find me." TPY/n only smiles. "Alright, I promise"

“Goddesses, They really have no shame with being like this when we’re around” FSY/n scowled at the sight of them, “You’re starting to sound jealous” Four shrugged “Am not!” 

“I wonder if she knows we can hear her,” Twilight grins. “Oh she doesn’t, Trust me”

Warriors.

HWY/n was separated from the others, during a cave exploration you’d think everyone would stick with one another–Nope. 

A rock slide which ended up with just HWY/n falling down and spraining her ankle, sucks to have no magic right now, nor have anyone around. It was eerie, quiet and unsettling. HWY/n grunts as she takes off her boot which reveals a bruise forming around the ankle. “Just great.” She sighs as she shuffles over and leans against the pile of rock as she alleviates her foot by putting in on top of a rock.

15 minutes went by and HWY/n was sure they had forgotten her—how rude! She was thinking of a way to get out, she can walk her sprained ankle off but she doesn’t want to. She can wait out for her magic to recharge and she can teleport herself out or..something useful to get her out!

She hears footsteps coming her way, ‘goddesses why now!’ She thought as she lifted up a nearby rock for protection but she just saw Warriors.

“Oh, it’s just you, Knight” HWY/n lowered the rock as he approached her, dropping his weapons to the ground gently and analysed the sprain.

“It’s only sprained, it’ll be fine—“

“We need Hyrule to heal this, you’ll be off your feet for the rest of the day…Let me carry you!-” 

“Now just hang on, Knight! You don’t get to decide what happens to me…Where are the others? Did you leave them behind?” HWY/n looked behind him while he grew silent. She huffed “You left them behind, didn’t you?” “Well, You fell and no one was doing anything and I had to make sure you were safe, okay?” “How’d you even get down here in the first place?” He looked around awkwardly and cleared his throat, still not looking at her. “I jumped down a hole…”

“You haven’t changed, reckless, Impulsive and Selfless.” She scolds him. “It doesn’t matter, You’re hurt.” “I’ll walk it off” “Absolutely not! Geez can you just let me do this?” Warriors inspected her ankle as if it were broken. “Mild sprain, Doesn’t need immediate attention” “I knew that..” He lowers her ankle and reaches into his pocket to grab out a roll of bandages. “Oh aren’t you full of surprises?” She teases, he ignores her comment and rolls out the bandage until it’s fully out. He began to wrap it around her ankle efficiently which made her a tad surprised. “Huh, So you know how to bandage now?” “Learned from a certain witch who would scold me for every wound” He chuckled lightly at the oddly fond memories of HWY/n wrapping his wounds after every battle.

“Still needs work, It’s a bit loose” “Oh hush, at least you’ve been tended to” He snapped back playfully, comfortable with the small banter. Warriors sit down next to her as they rest against the pile of rocks, “They shouldn’t be too far away” HWY/n looks over to him before resting her head against his shoulder. “Hopefully it takes a bit” Warriors cheeks flush and he stiffens a bit, he was glad that HWY/n couldn’t see his face or else it would be an endless tease from her. 

“Yeah, hopefully…”

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Okay, I swear there was no favouritism! I just had a good idea for Time's part but it ended up being a whole story compared to the others...

I'm on study leave and I have exams coming up, sorry for such a long break because I was on holiday but I'm going to be focusing on studying while writing because Writing is a way for me to rewind and relax.

Anyways! Everyone stays hydrated and safe!

[leth-writes]

could you do prompt number 60 with yandere Cassandra Cain and a gender neutral reader?

A reminder that this is part of my 200 follower celebration event! Requests are still open!

Prompt 60: "The mark is to show everyone that you're mine,"

warnings: discussions of making out and biting.

The day started off quite normal, honestly. It was foggy and grey, the air cool and dry, but that was typical weather for Gotham. It was a saturday in the middle of fall, so you didn’t have much else to do except go for a walk to get hot chocolate. Those walks were a lifeline, taking you away from the mansion for as long as possible and letting you stretch your legs, get some air… And get away from the strong personalities keeping you hostage. You didn’t mind the manor itself, it was quite the nice place, with plenty of space, but it was exhausting having to constantly manage your behavior so as to not set someone off. If you didn’t smile often enough, Dick got upset. If you smiled too much, Jason got suspicious. Tim was basically always suspicious, and Damian hated when you spent time with the others. You didn’t have a solid enough grip on Cassandra to understand what pissed her off, but luckily you’d never seen that side of her before.

Anyways, you were going on a walk to get some hot chocolate. Unfortunately, to leave the manor, you needed to bring someone with you; Bruce was paranoid you’d run off, and the others were worried you’d get kidnapped or fall in a ditch or something, you didn’t even know. Some of the things they thought would happen to you were honestly quite ridiculous. You’re still pretty sure there aren’t sharks in Gotham, but they still made you carry their stupid shark repellent!

So you checked the group chat, asking to be accompanied. Cass was the first to respond, a simple message reading “Me!”. It seemed she was excited to go with you; maybe she liked walks?

Cassandra was a quiet person. You weren’t quite sure why, but it was hard to really get her without one of the others acting as a translator. Luckily, she did use ASL, so learning that was a great way for you to begin understanding how she thought. Still, you found yourself surprised by her often. She would startle you, suddenly appearing out of the blue, while you were trying to escape or sneak an extra cookie, anything you shouldn’t be doing. She was the least intense of your captors, but that wasn’t saying much; you’d heard all about the duffel bag incident during one of Tim and Jason’s legendary fights.

You’d decided to go to your favorite little cafe, the Little Spoon, and maybe even sit by the large glass windows and bask in the natural light of the city for a while. The walk there was silent and uneventful, minus Cass deciding halfway through to hold your hand, her soft palm pressed to yours. You’d have to ask her for her skin care routine, you decided.

Upon arrival, you were pleased to see that no, the cafe was not busy. There was a small line, but most of the plush seats were still open, including your favorite armchairs by the window, a little private alcove perfect for enjoying yourself and appeasing your captors.

Standing in line is where it all went wrong.

Some asshole, a large, hulking frat boy, slapped your ass. It was quick, over before you even knew it, and Cass was reacting before you had time to even register what had happened. You whirled around in time to see Cass knock the man out, turning to you to pull you out of the store. She ignored your harsh protests, simply shaking his head when you asked about your hot chocolate. You’d been looking forward to this all week!

Cass pulled you quickly down the cobblestone path, head swiveling as though she was looking for something. Her short black hair swung around her head as she looked, fanning out and hitting you with a whiff of her perfume. It was your favorite. How did she know that?

Finally, she seemed to spot what she was looking for, and she pulled you into an alley. It was dark and dingy, lined with trash and old newspapers; the dumpster at the far end was already overflowing so badly it couldn’t even be closed. You could see rumpled blankets by the dumpster, near the brick wall that closed the alley off. The walls to the side were high, without windows, and coated in grime. All in all, not a pleasant place to be.

“Cass, what are we doing-” You began, only to be interrupted by her mouth smashing to yours. The sheer force of her approach had you stumbling back into the wall, though she refused to connect, following you. She pinned you to the wall, hands bracketing your head and thigh pressed between your legs to keep you from moving. You let out a whimper, trying to break the kiss, which she paid no mind to.

The kiss was harsh, her soft, pillowy lips not parting from yours for even a second. She followed you whenever you tried to push back, your panting breaths tickling her face as she pressed in.

The kiss was electric, and while the cold alley bricks chilled your back, her warmth pressed to yours lit your chest up with a cozy fire. The smell of her perfume filled the space between you, spicey and warm, and you let out a whimper. She groaned in return, hand reaching down to cup at your face and angle your chin up. She slowed down, pulling back slightly to brush her lips gently against yours, eyes fluttering open. She smiled sweetly, the passion of the previous moment melting away to a syrupy sweet tension between the two of you. The moments dripped by, the two of you just staring at each-other as she analyzed your expression. Finally, she must’ve found something, because she leant down to mouth at your neck.

Then, she bit down. Sharp, tanging pain licked at the junction of your neck and chest, the sensitive skin giving way to her sharp canines as she applied pressure, forcing blood to well in hollow of your neck.

“Fuck!” You cried, startled. Did she just bite you? You couldn’t believe that Cass, sweet Cass, could be this forceful, this violent! You’d always thought she was the gentlest of all your captors, but no! She fucking bit you!

“The mark,” she tapped the bite, causing you to wince as fresh pain raced through your neck, “tells everyone… You’re mine,” She smiled brightly, your blood staining her teeth a deep red.

[queenjang21]

•high school hyun soo x yandere reader

•warnings: yandere, gore/blood, bully, manipulation, dead

Cha hyun soo was your only friend, and you were his, even when he started to get bullied, even if he told you to stay away from him, you stayed by his side, resulting in you becoming a target, but you didn’t care, you were strong enough and you fought back.

you only stopped fighting back when they threatened to make hyunsoo’s worse, since then you try to take more hits than him, he didn’t deserve that you were only ever nice to him, even before the bullies, its why he became your friend, he heard there was a girl who was mean to everybody in the school, she never talked and would yell at you for even looking at her, he thought he could be her friend, and he was right.

you looked up from your desk and were ready to glare at the person who disturbed your nap, but was taken back by the most beautiful boy you’ve ever laid eyes on shortly after that, you became friends, hyunsoo knew you mean to anyone that wasn’t him, but he never knew it because you liked him.

hyunsoo grew to love you in the time he spent with you, and it became more every time you’d stand up for him against dohun, it was obvious that hyunsoo had gotten depressed after everything, even noticing scars you knew weren’t inflicted by his classmates.

you got angry, and wanted to shout at and beat dohun senseless after making such a wonderful, cheerful boy do such things to himself, but you knew it’d only make his situation worse, so you held back, it was getting worse day by day, and you didn’t know how much longer you could handle this, after a harsh day, when he leaned into your touch, you confessed, telling him how much he pained you tosl see him in pain, how much you wish you could teach thosegl guys a lesson, and how much you loved him and he returned your feelings! you’ve never been happier, and hyunsoo too.

it was summer break, and you noticed hyunsoo had been smiling more, how his scars faded away, his genuine smiles that were reversed for you, hyunsoo had to leave their date early, something happened to his dad and he needed to be there, it was already late at night, so you followed him, it wasn’t the first time you followed him, you had to made sure he was safe and you were glad you did, you noticed how a girl from your school, jihyung was it? found herself next to hyunsoo, and she started to talk with him.

hyunsoo was getting uncomfortable, but the girl attached herself to his side, completely ignoring his protests, your blood boiled, how could she do that to someone?! someone that belonged to you?! surely she knew about the two of you? everyone knew that the two losers were dating and you wanted to hurt her, in a worse way that she was hurting what was yours.

you saw the woman grab his face and leaned towards, him, her hand on places that it shouldn’t be, when you jumped out of your hiding spot, you grabbed the pocket knife you always kept with you just incase, and stabbed it into her head, you pulled it out and did it again, but in a different spot, then again, and again, and again-

she fell to the floor, unresponsive and you smiled, she was gone, but now hyunsoo was looking at you, he looked scared, even more than he did when he first got bullied

“y/n?” his tone was careful, but undoubtedly scared “what did you do?!” when you walked closer you tried to explain yourself, but he backed away “she was a human being…no one deserves something like that!”

“she hurt you! anyone who hurts you should be dead, and what she did to you? i should’ve made it hurt more” hyunsoo kept backing away, until he finally got the courage to run, you sighed and ran after him, you didn’t want to hurt him, but one time wouldn’t be so bad…you grabbed a small piece of wood laying on the ground, and when you caught up with him, you hit him, hard enough to make him pass out.

you tied him up and put him in your car, driving home and putting him in your room, but you weren’t done for the day, you tracked down dohun’s house, he was asleep when you entered the room, you took a knife larger than your previous, and slammed it directly into his heart, you would’ve preferred something that hurt more, but this had to do, then you drove to hyunsoo’s house, you only needed his mother and sister, his dad was already taken care of, poor thing got ran over by a truck driver on his way to work, you were already planning to do this, but it was just a bit early.

once you were finished with them you headed home, just in time for hyunsoo to wake up, he winced at the pain in his head, when he looked up, remembering what happened as he locked eyes with you, he realized he was tied up and started struggling, “i’m sorry about the restraints, are they hurting you? i can take them off only if you don’t try to run away again” you sat down next to him, he was breathing heavily, struggling to free himself from the tight grip of the ropes.

it took him a few minutes to stop, he was exhausted and started to cry, you wrapped your arms around him to try and comfort him, for a moment he seemed to forget the situation, and what you had done, he leaned in to kiss you, seeking comfort that only you could give, but he pulled away, leaning away from you, “someone will look for me…they’ll find me…” you sighed and moved away “anyone who could rescue you is already dead, give up, your parents, your sister, even dohun is dead, no one will look for you, cause no one else cares about you the way i do, they’ll never give you the love that i do” hyunsoo felt his heart drop when you mentioned his family, it was true that they didn’t care for him anymore, overhearing his sister tell her friends how much of a freak he was, and “no, i don’t have a brother!” even his parents not giving him as much attention.

the only one who did seem to care…was you but you hurt people, you killed his family, and you killed that girl, you didn’t even break a sweat, how could he love someone like that? “you’re right” he lied “i’m sorry i said that, i…love you” but you weren’t stupid, you knew everything about hyunsoo, right down to his lies, does he seriously think he can get away with this? you won’t hurt him, you’ll only teach him a lesson, there is a part of him that still loves you, and you’ll just have to bring it out, you left alone in a separate room for days, only bringing him food and drinks, and sometimes letting him have a shower, he tried to be cute to you, but you knew he was only toying with you.

you would tape his mouth shut and lock the door while bringing another boy over, you felt sick as you flirted with them, they didn’t deserve your attention, but hyunsoo was a brat, and needed to get himself together and it was working, hyunsoo could hear every flirty remark you made towards them, and it made his heart ache, he thought he shouldn’t love someone like you, but you were his only happiness for months, how could he let someone like that go so easily? he tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, like it didn’t feel like his heart was torn to pieces everytime you wouldn’t even look at him and when you went inside weeks later to bring him water he broke, tears in his eyes as you didn’t even speak this time, he looked at you and begged, for the first time, to look at him, to give him attention, to love him again, he loves you, and now you’re the only one he has left, he’ll do anything for your attention, you would be lying if you said you weren’t feeling heartbroken too, you wrapped your arms around, vowing to never make him lonely again, never to let him feel that way when you’re around.

because he made you whole, he made you feel things you never thought you could, so you will latch onto him forever, if it meant feeling like that for your entire life.

HYUN SOO WAS YOURS AND YOU WERE HIS.

Written by : 0X1-L0VES0NG (wattpad)

[bloodibambiidoll]

ೀ Rafe Cameron Masterlist ೀ

✶ ALL WORKS ARE FEM!READER AND 18+ NO MINORS ✶

One shots:

White Rabbit

Rafe goes to Barry for help with his “pogue problem” but he gets more help than he bargained for when he meets Barry’s cousin in the most unsuspecting way. He can’t stay away from her, despite Barry’s protests, especially when she’s just as unhinged as he is. Takes place during season 2 episode 4 “Homecoming”

There’s No Such Thing As Purity

You and Rafe are childhood best friends and as far as he’s concerned you’re an innocent angel he needs to protect from the world. But he discovers a whole other side of you when you accidentally send him nudes that were meant for someone else.

Angel Face, Devil Thoughts

The first time Rafe Cameron saw you, he knew he had to have you. Whatever it takes. (Collab with my love @babygorewhore)

Run, Kitty, Run

When Rafe catches you touching yourself without his permission he decides to teach you a lesson you won’t forget. (Technically part 2 to this blurb but can be read as a standalone)

Baby’s Gotta Gun

You’ve been in a situationship with Rafe for over a year and when you show up to his party that he invited you to and there’s another girl all over him, you’ve finally had it.

Butterfly Fantasies ✶ Dad’s Best friend!Rafe ✶

You’ve been teasing Rafe for months and when he sees you flirting with another man, it’s his final straw.

After Midnight ✶MFF threesome ✶

You and your girlfriend have been playing a game of cat and mouse with Rafe for months and tonight you deicide it’s finally time for you to catch a mouse…

Nasty Girl ✶ Older!Rafe ✶

Rafe is an arrogant dick, over a decade older than you and your dad’s boss, you shouldn’t want anything to do with him. So why can’t you stay away?

Say It

You and Rafe both want to make your relationship official, but neither of you want to say it out loud.

Pray To Me

You’re a new nun at Father Cameron’s covent and he just can’t seem to get you out of his mind. He feels damn near possessed by you. But the problem is that you feel the same…

Rafe And His Weird!Girl Masterlist

Blurbs જ⁀➴.

Car Sex With Goth!Baddie!Reader

Feeling his beard on your thighs while he goes down on you

Farmhand!Rafe x Farmer’s Daughter!Reader

Asking Rafe To Buy You A Collar

Frat!Rafe Washing Your Car

Rafe Giving You A Wedgie (you like it)

Sit On It

Daddy’s Home

Sub!Rafe Headcanons

Divider by @cafekitsune

[atlasofthestaars]

Hello! Is it ok, if you do request's, can you do a Raiden x reader, the reader is a student at the Wu shi academy, she has powers, which are water control, she fight's and heal's with them and she is really kind. Also I love the 'New Era' story is so amazing, you are amazing! Keep up the good work!

NOTE: 

Yet again I am back at it again for requests. Slowly trying to get through them, sorry they take forever </3

Also I didn’t have too much of an idea for this??? So sorry if it’s a bit short haha I tried my best here but sorry if it's not the best!

A HELPING HAND [RAIDEN X READER]

To Raiden, lightning and water shouldn’t mix. And yet there was nothing more he wanted than to be by your side.

“Raiden. You’re staring. Again.” Kung Lao groaned, looking at his friend who was staring very, very obviously at you. A mixture of amusement and annoyance, mostly annoyance at this point, was on Kung Lao’s face. It wasn’t as if he was jealous or angry at his friend, far from it. He was really happy about the fact that his friend had finally found someone to like, or honestly at this point, love. 

He was just really, really fed up with how distracted his friend would get. Half of their conversations of late would be about you. Would you like this thing? Would you think he would be cool if he did this trick? And by the elder gods, don’t get Kung Lao started with how Raiden would act whenever you were in the same room. His eyes looked back and forth between his friend, who he swore had hearts in his eyes, and you.

You were sparring with another student, practicing using your water magic. Water would surround you in a protective shield before it lashed out to attack the other student. It would slash at the other student with striking speed before it would flow downwards and try to trip them up. The way the water was controlled was honestly pretty mesmerizing, but Raiden was more focused on you rather than the water.

“Really?” Raiden asked, snapping out of his daze. He blinked furiously as he shook his head, as if he were trying to shake off the grip you had on him. Obviously, it was not going well. His eyes shifted away from you in the most reluctant way ever as they landed on Kung Lao. His friend raised his eyebrow as he tilted his head. “Was I really?”

“Yeah. For like, the third time today.” Kung Lao pointed out, an exasperated look on his face. He looked up towards the sky to see the sun still blazing high in the sky. It wasn’t even noon yet. The razor hatted man crossed his arms as he squinted at his friend, trying to assess him. “Tell me, why don’t you just…tell her?” He inquired, as it was the most obvious solution in the world. Which it kind of was.

“I can’t just do that!” Raiden protested, looking over to his lifelong friend. An expression of shock was on his face, as if Kung Lao had just asked him to bury a body instead of asking out his crush. The look Kung Lao gave his friend was the very definition of exhaustion. This was one of the rare few times that Kung Lao was sending Raiden that look instead of the other way around.

“And why not?” He asked, his head tipping forward. His eyebrows raised as he bore his eyes into his hopeless friend. Raiden’s face flushed as he floundered to find a proper reason to give his friend. He looked up, to the right, then the left, and just anywhere but the accusing stare Kung Lao was giving him. He was almost tempted to look back at you, but then he realized that would only get him in more hot water. 

“Yeah, I gotta agree Thunder Lad, why don’t you?” Johnny cut into the conversation. The actor, with all the swagger of a man who has already been in plenty of relationships, strode up to the two. He tipped his glasses downwards to look at the Earthrealm champion eye to eye. A wide grin spread across his face. “It’s easy! Trust me.” He insisted with a wink.

“First off, you know I hate that nickname, Johnny.” Raiden pointed out, giving the actor a short lived glare. The American groaned, rolling his eyes as he pressed his glasses up. He grumbled something about how no one appreciates good names these days. Raiden and Kung Lao both ignored this sentiment, clearly disagreeing with it. “And I can’t do it. When I see her I just…” 

“Help but gawk until a fly flies into your mouth?” Kenshi added, strolling up to join the group. Raiden sighed at the utter betrayal. He thought out of all his friends, Kenshi would understand his plight. Especially since he also had Suchin. But then again, Raiden supposed, he actually had Suchin. “Raiden, I’m blind I can see that you are head over heels for her.” Kenshi pointed out, and Raiden felt his face heat up again.

“It’s not that obvious, is it?” Raiden inquired, tilting his head downwards to hide the color on his cheeks behind the brim of his hat. The collective silence from the group said more about the situation than they already did or could say. Miserably, the champion felt his cheeks heat up even more. He was Earthrealm’s champion, he had taken down plenty of seasoned warriors. And yet the biggest challenge for him was this crush.

“Twelve o’ clock.” Johnny called out followed with a short whistle, catching the attention of the group. Raiden lifted his head up, looking to try and see what the traitor of his friend had meant. Then, he froze. You were approaching. Raiden felt the breath get knocked out of his lungs as he saw your radiant smile. Are you sure you didn’t control the sun as well?

“Hey guys!” You greeted, walking right up to the quartet. Raiden was unable to keep himself from looking at the water drops that were left on your face as a result of your training. How prettily they framed your face and how they ran down your face until they…oh. The man had to pretend to cough to look down and conceal his face which had a blush on it.

A collective chorus of greetings was heard from the group. Both Kung Lao and Johnny glanced over to their friend who had stumbled on his greeting, a teasing look in their eyes. Kenshi would have that same look as well, but he was, well, blind. 

“Do you know where the towels are?” You inquired, eyes searching the group. You wiped the remnants of the water droplets away from your skin, flicking them away. “I wanted to bring my training partner some, since well, training with me can get someone soaked.” Raiden couldn’t help but admire how you were always thinking of someone. How could someone be so kind?

“We don’t.” Kung Lao quickly said, and your face fell a tiny bit. The champion of Earthrealm turned to give his friend a puzzled look. Certainly those three knew where the towels were, they’ve been here far too long to not know. But just as quickly, a wide grin appeared on the razor hatted man’s face as he gestured to Raiden. “Luckily for you, Raiden does!”

“Great!” You exclaimed. Raiden’s brain faltered for a moment, failing to realize the betrayal of his friend before it was far too late. With a push that was a little more aggressive than needed, Johnny pushed him towards you. As his brain finally caught up with the situation, he could only offer you an awkward smile. You didn’t seem to notice it, instead giving him another one of your lovely smiles in return. “Lead the way, Raiden!”

Raiden could listen to you saying his name all day.

“Of course.” He said, nodding. He led you away, he tried his best to ignore the stares his friends were boring into him. He got the message very well enough, this was his moment to make his move. Raiden was glad he was the one leading, so he could be in front and you did not have to see how flustered he was around you. The Earthrealm champion didn't have more mortification than he already had. 

The hallway you two entered was safe from the judgemental eyes of his friends. It was quiet, the near silent creak of the floorboards under both of your feet interrupting the silence. For a moment, Raiden turned back just to make sure you were still following. Then, in the very next moment, his breath got caught as he saw the sight of you highlighted by the light filtering in through the windows.

How could someone look so beautiful?

“Thanks for showing me the way! I still get lost here sometimes, and I didn’t want to keep my training partner waiting.” You chirped, your tone bright as usual. Raiden’s mind immediately raced with the possibilities of what to say in response to you. Would a simple you’re welcome suffice? Or should he open up conversation so he could finally confess to you like his friends were always bugging him to do? 

Raiden’s heart raced at the simple thought of confession. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that you could have feelings back, it wasn’t like he was a complete stranger to him. Far from it, in fact. The two of you were friends, at the very least. It had started that way, but then as Raiden talked more and more with you, the more and more he was captivated.

You were like the living embodiment of sunshine. You always knew how to cheer him up when he was down. You knew the right words to encourage him and keep his spirits. You were so you and Raiden adored it. It was honestly a miracle that you hadn’t pointed out the way he’s been acting around you lately, but then again he supposed it’s because you’re far too nice to do so.

Raiden, having been too caught up in his thoughts, cleared his throat as he realized he was staring right back at your expectant gaze. 

“Of course, anything for you.” He told you before he realized that he may have been a little too honest. “I saw you training, you’ve made such impressive improvements.” Raiden complimented quickly, trying to distract you from the little bit of truth he had let out. He quickly felt proud of himself at the change as he saw your eyes light up.

“You saw me?” You inquired, a look of excitement appeared on your face. Raiden mentally took a picture of it and locked it away in his heart. What he wouldn’t do to see you smiling like that for just him. “I’m glad you did! Do you have any tips for me?” You continued, walking a bit faster to match Raiden’s strides now.

“Well…” Raiden began to tell you some tips, feeling much more relaxed. Your drive to improve was admirable and something he shared, not to mention how it felt more natural to talk to you now about fighting rather than to fight his own feelings. 

When the both of you ended up at the closet, Raiden felt a hint of sadness over it. You two were having a lovely conversation. You gave a delighted hum as you opened the door, swinging it wide open. Thankfully for him, he dodged the far too enthusiastic door opening, saving himself from what would surely be a bruise.  He grabbed the door, holding it open for you.

“Hey, can you help me carry these?” You called out from inside the closet, your voice just the tiniest bit muffled. Raiden peeked in, seeing the huge stack of towels you held in your arms. The stack was so high it covered your face. With a nod that was perhaps too eager to someone who couldn’t even see it, he walked right into the closet. Anything to help you. “Thanks!”

“No problem.” Raiden replied, his hands brushing yours as he grabbed the stack. He couldn’t tell whether he had accidentally used his amulet or touching you was simply that electric. He was hoping it was the latter, so he didn’t accidentally shock you. The Earthrealm champion leaned to the side to send you his best smile, the apples of his cheeks just the tiniest bit pink. 

THUD!

Jumping at the sudden noise, Raiden let out a grunt as he, somehow, collided his head with a shelf. His hat fell to the ground behind him. For a man who had been trained in martial arts for most of his life, he found himself oddly clumsy around you. That probably didn’t help charm you. The man then noticed how much darker the room had gotten. Whirling around, he noticed the fact that the closet door was now closed. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, peering over to Raiden with another stack of towels in your arms. Raiden craned his head back, hoping that the little bump with the shelf didn’t leave an embarrassing mark. He felt his face grow warmer at the idea of it. 

“Yes!” He answered a little too quickly, nodding. He could practically hear his trio of friends groaning over how he was fumbling a little too often. “I was just surprised by the noise.” He explained. Shifting the towel stack, he raised a hand up to rub at the sore spot on his forehead. Maybe he hit the shelf a little harder than he expected. 

“Do you need me to heal you?” You asked, peering at the man as he continued to rub at the part of his forehead where he had collided with the shelf. Raiden’s heart fluttered at the concern you held for him, but he shook his head quickly.

“I’m good.” He told you, wincing as he rubbed his forehead just a tad too hard. “I can just ice it when we get out.” The champion stepped forward to grab the handle of the closet. He turned it, only to find resistance. A sudden stab of worry hit him as he attempted to turn the handle only to no avail. Ah. He forgot this closet had a nasty habit of jamming. Quickly, he tried turning it more to try and see if he could get it unstuck.

“Everything good?” You asked, stepping close to Raiden to see what was happening. He swallowed nervously, feeling you press close against him. It only made sense that you came close since it was dark in here, but did you really have to stand that close? He could feel your warmth as you leaned against him just the tiniest bit to look over. His hand squeezed the knob tightly.

“Yes, well no.” Raiden said, fumbling once more over his words. He looked towards you offering you the most reassuring smile he could. “I forgot this closet gets stuck sometimes.” He explained, jiggling the knob once more to showcase his point. “So it seems we’re stuck here.” He told you with a small sigh. 

“Ah, I guess my partner will just have to figure out a way to dry himself then.” You lamented, sighing as you put down the stack of towels back where you retrieved it from. You took the stack of towels from Raiden as well, putting it back where it had come from. “Come here, let me look at where you hit your head.”

Raiden complied, there was no point in avoiding it. Your touch was gentle, featherlight. It was as if a ghost had brushed his forehead, and he questioned if you even really touched him. Then, he winced as you pressed against his forehead.

“Yeah, that will definitely bruise.” You muttered, squinting at the area your fingers touched. Raiden couldn’t help but stare at you. Your look of concentration was simply captivating. Your narrowed eyes, your pursed lips,..Raiden had to avert his eyes for a moment to compose himself. His cheeks were far too warm, and if you were paying attention you’d even see the tips of his ears grow the tiniest bit red. “Here.”

With a wave of your hand, water was summoned. It wrapped around your hand pulsing a soft aquamarine. You lifted your hand to press it against Raiden’s forehead. No matter how many times he has watched or experienced your healing, it never fails to impress. A wave of calm washed over him, and his eyes fluttered shut.

He wasn’t sure if the healing or just being around you made him feel better.

“There!” You said, withdrawing your hand. The water disappeared and you clapped your hands together with a large grin. “Do you feel better?” You asked, peering at him with wide eyes that made his heart skip a beat. He couldn’t help but return your enthusiastic grin as he nodded. “Good!” 

You peered at him for a moment afterwards, and Raiden couldn’t help but question whether he did something wrong or not. Then he watched as you knelt to grab his hat before placing it delicately upon his head. You fixed it, making sure it fit just right.

“There we go.” You murmured, a satisfied look on your face. “I like your hat. It suits you.” You told him, tilting your head to look at him once more. Raiden felt butterflies flutter around in his stomach at the compliment. He never thought too much of his favorite hat and how it suited him, but now there was nothing more he wanted to do than just wear it for you. “Now let’s see if I can get the door unlocked!” You said, stepping past him. 

You hummed with delight as the door swung open easily. You turned around and gestured to it. 

“Guess I have the magic touch!” You let out a small laugh as you propped the door open with your foot. “Hand me the towels, would you?” You asked, and Raiden happily complied, still on cloud nine after your compliment. “Thanks!” You said, your arms now filled with the fluffy towels. You shifted contemplatively, glancing at the man before you beckoned him over. 

“What do you need?” Raiden asked, stepping close as your gaze shifted from the towels to him again. You grinned at him before you leaned close and pressed a featherlight kiss to his cheek. He stood there in shock, pink beginning to bloom across his face. He barely registered the words you said before you dashed off, a warmth on your face too.

“Let’s go have a date at Madam Bo’s sometime!”

“I thought you said you were above using Sento for that kind of stuff.” Johnny huffed as he crossed his arms, looking towards the blindswords man. Kenshi simply shrugged as he sheathed his magical sword, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Yes, normally, but it was hard seeing him dance around his emotions like that. And I can’t even see.” Kenshi quipped as before he put his hand out. “Now pay up, she made the first move.” A groan arose from both Kung Lao and Johnny as they reluctantly handed over the money.

“This is basically robbery, we Shaolin live modestly!” Kung Lao complained.

“What are you guys doing here?” Raiden asked as he walked up to the group, the hints of pink still remaining on his cheeks. Immediately, he was bombarded with complaints of how he didn’t make the first move. “How do you guys know that?” He asked, his face filling with color once more. Unfortunately for the champion, his question was lost on deaf ears as the actor and his life long friend continued to berate him.

Not knowing what to do, Raiden looked around, only to spot you out of a window. It seemed that you saw him too, your grin growing wider as you waved at him. He waved back with a dazed look on his face, earning more complaints from the duo. You smiled as you blew him a kiss.

He was definitely looking forward to that dinner.

[cal-writes]

a little snippet from the train au universe from zoro's pov! this takes place in chapter one after the attempted robbery on the train. enjoy!

-

“What happened!?” Nami shouts, pulling him into her apartment quickly and tugging at his jacket. The door slams shut behind him. The frame rattles.

“I’m fine. It’s bandaged.” He says, letting her strip him down until she can inspect his arm. “Can I use your washing machine?”

Nami gapes at him. “Can you-“ She groans, covering her face with her hands. Behind her, her sister Nojiko pokes her head out of the kitchen.

“Are you dying?” She asks in lieu of a hello. Lifting her chin as she looks at him critically. 

“No.” Zoro says.

Nojiko nods. “Then please be quiet. I have a headache.” She tells Nami who looks over her shoulder to stick her tongue out. Nojiko returns the gesture in kind before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Nami turns back to him, still standing in her entry way. Her brow deeply furrowed. “What happened?” She asks, putting her hands on her hips briefly before taking his arm and carefully examining the bandages more closely. They are slowly soaking through with blood.

“Someone tried to mug Franky’s train.” He explains, shrugging with one shoulder and hiking up his backpack further. 

“And some random thugs got you?” Nami tuts, making Zoro scowl. If he didn’t know it was her way of reacting to worry, he’d be annoyed with her. “Pathetic.”

“I just woke up!” He protests and Nami rolls her eyes, walking further into the apartment and to the bathroom. Zoro rolls his eyes before he follows.

Nami clicks her tongue and wags her finger over her shoulder. “Excuses, excuses. Although-“ She stops by the bathroom door, beckoning him to go inside. She stays in the hallway leaning against the doorframe and strokes her chin.

“Did anyone film you? If this goes public before the next Four Blue we might get a better rate on your bets.” Nami ponders.

Zoro shrugs, taking off his hoodie and throwing it into the washing machine drum alongside his jacket. He digs around his backpack for the rest of his laundry. Might as well take the opportunity to do it all while he's at it.

“I’ll have to call Cavendish. We can work with this. Unless you get yourself killed in the next two years.” She continues, brow furrowed and Zoro glares at her.

“I’m not dying.” He tells her pointedly.

She lifts her brow, looking at his arm. He follows her eyes. “You’re dripping.” She says tersely.

“Huh.” Zoro says. Taking off his clothes must have aggravated the wound. The oozing has increased, thick beads of red pushing through the white gauze. He shrugs. “It’ll stop.”

Nami bites her lip, pressing herself into the doorway as Zoro starts the washing machine. Her fingers drum on her arm. She has fresh nails, a seafoam mint with little pearls by the cuticles. He takes some toilet paper to wipe the blood off the tiles by his feet and dab some excess away from his arm.

“Should I call Chopper?” She asks tersely.

“No, he’s got enough stuff going on. It’s fine.” He tells her, locking eyes with her. Chopper would only ask why he didn’t come to him immediately and Zoro doesn’t feel like explaining. It’s bad enough that half his friends know the shit he’s in. Chopper shouldn’t need to worry about him too.

She wants to say more, he can tell but they've had this argument a hundred times already. “We should change the bandage at least.” Nami says quietly, walking into the bathroom and leaning over him to reach the cupboard with their first aid kit.

Zoro takes a seat on the closed toilet lid, keeping a bunch of toilet paper around the leaking part while Nami gathers her supplies. She shoves a tower of towels to the side to make room. Too large gloves snap over her hands to protect her nails before she unwinds the bandage with a pinched look. Her jaw is clenched, the bone moving underneath her skin.

“Thanks. I’ll pay you back.” He tells her, bumping his knee against hers. 

She sighs, shoulders dropping a little. “I’m increasing my cut for your next win.” She says. “Who bandaged you up? Franky’s usually more sloppy.” The bandages land in the little bin next to the toilet and Nami grabs an old, already stained towel to wipe away the blood. The precarious tower of them toppels into the sink. 

“That doctor.” Zoro says. "From Hiriluk Station." Remembering the other man’s fingers digging into his arm, rubber gloved hands brushing over his skin. The faint smell of shampoo over the copper of blood. Nami’s furrowed brow deepens as her attempts to stem the blood flow have little success.

“He said I need stitches.” Zoro adds.

She drops her head, groaning. “I was afraid you’d say that.” Nami says miserably. She whines and takes off the dirty gloves before taking the towels out of the sink. “I’ll get my sewing kit. Don’t bleed out.”

Zoro gives her a little salute as she leaves, holding his arm on his lap. There are blood stains on his pants but the fabric is dark enough they aren’t that visible unless you knew they were there. Maybe he can run a second round of laundry later. 

Nami returns with a little plastic case and a stool. She sets up on top of the washing machine for lack of surface area, making the needles and thread inside the case rattle. 

“He offered to do it.” Zoro says as she cuts off a piece of thread.

Nami looks at him, putting the end of her thread between her lips. “What?”

“The doc. Offered to take care of it. For free.” He says.

Nami scoffs. “Yeah, right.” She squints as she threads the needle. “As if.”

Zoro hums. Nami touches his arm before remembering to put some new gloves on. She also pours some disinfectant over the needle and thread before she returns to her stool. The smell of it fills the small bathroom instantly.

She takes a deep breath to brace herself before she pinches his skin and forces the needle through. He relaxes his fingers. Familiar pain making his arm tingle. The needle tugs at his skin, resisting Nami’s lead. It burns unpleasantly. Zoro watches the laundry spin behind the window of the maschine.

“He told me his name. Said to ask for him.” Zoro mentions. His other hand flexes and he has to resist the urge to bounce his leg. 

Nami blows out a breath and Zoro feels it on the wet skin on his arm. “Sounds like a scam." She says dismissively, then she snorts. "Or he wants to sleep with you.” 

Zoro cocks his head, inhales deeply. Considers. Thinks about those tattooed hands on him. 

“Oh, no. Stop looking like that.” Nami warns him.

“Like what?” He retorts but doesn't meet her glare. 

Nami leans in close until she can stare directly in his eye. “You’d think with your blood loss it would be harder to think with your dick.” He rolls his eye and leans away, ingoring her until she focuses back on sewing him shut. Her fingers slip on his slick skin, making it hard to get the needle through.

 “I wouldn't mind. He looks good.” He says after a minute of silence. 

Nami huffs. “And? There are many good looking guys out there who’d be happy to blow your back out that aren’t stuck up rich dudes.”

“Who’s saying he’s stuck up or rich?” Zoro asks and Nami just gives him a look with a raised bow.

“What about Killer? Ah wait, him and Kidd finally got their shit together, didn’t they.” Nami finishes off the last bit of sewing, tying off the end of the thread with a knot. There is still blood leaking through when she dabs his arm with the towel but much slower. The black thread paints a harsh contrast against his skin. 

“What about Yamato? I like Yamato.” Nami offers.

Zoro shakes his head. “He’s been dating some girl for a while. Pretty serious I think.”

Nami blows a raspberry with her lips, reaching over to the first aid kit and grabbing a roll of gauze. “What about the weird giraffe looking guy, Kaku? Or Hachi? Now that his restaurant has taken off he's-”

“Can you stop?" Zoro exhales sharply. She presses her lips together, pulling the gauze tight. "It wouldn’t be anything serious anyway.” Zoro says, looking down at the mess of his arm. He’s not exactly in a position to have a relationship right now. And his track record isn’t anything to write home about either - not that he could blame anyone for that but himself. He might just not be cut out for anything long term. He wasn’t exactly a catch before he became an unemployed bum. Looking at this history it was almost like Zoro was a stepping stone on the path to other people’s happiness. Which is fine. He’s glad they found someone. He doesn't really have the time for a relationship anyway. 

Nami gives him a pinched look before she stands and washes her hands. 

Water splatters in the sink as the needles continue to rattle in their plastic case.

[bitethedevil]

A Portrait of A Cambion

Link to this fic on AO3

Summary: Raphael rejects his icky mortal feelings for Tav because he remembers what happens when one is distracted by matters of the heart. He reminisces about a woman who taught him how to paint and who stole his non-existent heart over a thousand years ago.

(This is essentially a sort of 'origin story' headcanon that I ended up writing into a fic because people were asking about my dark headcanon that Raphael has experienced love before, but Mephistopheles took it from him. It ended up as a fic because I had a very specific image in my head of how Raphael fell in love for the first time and how he lost that love. Also cambions don't have a heart. Source?: Pulled it out of my ass.) TW: Mention of Death, Blood, Abusive Relationship with Parent (although that should almost be a given with Mephistopheles in the tags)

Another nightmare about Tav. This time it had not been about her and her fellow adventurers besting him. Instead, he had dreamt about her dying a cruel death.

He shouldn’t care and he didn’t, but his mind was sabotaging him and in the midst of the dream, he had felt fear for her. It shook Raphael awake from his nightly meditation and made him sit up in his bed.

He rubbed his eyes and sneered at that disgusting mortal feeling that still lingered in his chest. He had to remind himself that she was no more than a means to an end.

He could not afford such distractions, especially now when the crown was so close…

Raphael’s eyes drifted to the right-hand portrait in his boudoir, the one where he hid his safe behind.

There it was again. That stabbing feeling in his chest. He could not even remember the face of the painter that had made the portrait, but looking at that painting was just the reminder he needed: Distractions will cost you dearly.

It was over a thousand years ago that he had met her. It was before he had even laid his eyes on the Crown of Karsus and witnessed Netheril’s fall. He was still perfecting his art when it came to soul collecting. Back then he mainly went after the most desperate of the desperate and this girl could not have been more perfect.

Her name was Lucienna and she lived in Westgate, a city known for its history with criminal organizations and piracy. The young human woman had managed to make herself quite unpopular with the group of mercenaries that ruled the city then.

She was on the run with two of Westgate’s best killers at her heels when Raphael unceremoniously whisked her away to the Hells. Back then he still lived in Cania under his father’s rule.

The young woman took in her new surroundings while she tried to catch her breath. She looked up at Raphael who was still in his human form.

“Where am I?” she wheezed, out of breath. “And thank you, I suppose.”

“The Eighth Layer of the Hells,” Raphael explained smoothly. He found no reason to pretend when her contract was already as good as signed with the circumstances, she found herself in.

“…Oh,” she said a bit too calmly for Raphael’s liking and nodded.

“Quite a mess you’ve found yourself in, dear,” Raphael said with a smile. “Was it worth it? The protesting, I mean?”

Lucienna narrowed her green eyes at him.

He had done his research. The whole reason that she was on the hitlist of the mercenary government of Westgate, was all because of some posters, she had made and plastered around the city. They criticized the government and called the population to protest.

“It was actually worth it, yes,” she said with defensiveness in her voice. “And I’d do it again.”

She crossed her arms and looked at him. Raphael looked her up and down with a smile on his face.

“I saw your work before they were all taken down and burned,” Raphael said. “You are clearly talented. As a great admirer of the arts, it would pain me to see someone with so much to offer the world dead in a ditch somewhere. Which is why I have a proposal for you…”

“Whatever you are selling, I don’t want any,” she said and interrupted his sales-pitch. “Who are you anyway?”

“Oh, do forgive my manners. I am Raphael,” he said with a bow and in a flash of fire he was in his cambion form. “Very much at your service.”

Her eyes widened for a moment at the reveal of his true nature, but she quickly gathered herself.

“I mean…” she said. “I suppose I could have guessed since you said we were in the Hells, but…”

She looked him up and down, studying his form for a moment before looking back at his smug face.

“I still stand by what I said,” she said stubbornly. “Especially if my soul is the price.”

Raphael’s smirk faltered. He had been so certain that this would have been an easy deal.

“Perhaps you don’t grasp the severity of your situation,” Raphael said with a dramatic hand gesture. “I can make this whole mess disappear if you simply sign my contract. If you do not, I will simply send you back to the exact spot I found you to be hunted for sport by the best killers Westgate has to offer.”

She nodded slowly.

“I’ll take my chances,” she said with a shrug.

Raphael’s brow furrowed. That was not what he wanted to hear.

“Suit yourself,” Raphael said with a sneer and snapped his fingers to send her back to where she came from.

If the little idiot so desperately wanted to walk into her own grave, Raphael would not stop her. However, it did infuriate him that she did not even seem the least bit interested in even hearing his offer. If she did, by some miracle, survive, she could be certain that Raphael was not done with her.

Raphael followed her movements through the city closely. Luck seemed to be on her side because she did eventually make it out of the city in one piece. He tracked her to a house in the middle of nowhere out on the countryside. He kept an eye on her little hiding spot for a couple of weeks before approaching her.

He manifested in a room where a small fortune in painting supplies laid scattered everywhere. There were paintings leaning up against every wall. His person of interest sat in the middle of the room. She looked up from the canvas she was working on and jumped at his presence.

“Are you ready to accept my kind offer or do you intend to hide here for the rest of your days?” Raphael asked with a smile.

“Shhh,” she hushed and put a finger to her lips. “Please, lower your voice. My father might hear you.”

She was bold, he would give her that. Raphael huffed in annoyance but complied.

“Well?” he asked in a more hushed voice.

“I’m perfectly content here, thank you,” she said while her focus returned to the painting she was working on.

Raphael could not believe what he was hearing.

“Please correct me if I misunderstand,” Raphael said. “You would run from the very city that you have been fighting to protect from tyranny, to stay here? You are aware that the mercenaries of Westgate do not forget a face and that you getting out of the city does not mean that you are safe?”

“I understand just fine,” she said calmly. “I did what I could, and it wasn’t enough. I know I’m not safe but that doesn’t mean I want to hand over my soul to you...No offense, of course.”

Her stubbornness was getting on his nerves. Perhaps, it would just be easier to leave her alone, as it seemed he was getting nowhere with her. She was a hopeless case.

“Raphael, was it?” she asked and looked at him.

Raphael nodded with a tired look in his eyes.

“I had a feeling that you would be back, so I have something for you, Raphael,” she said and got up from her chair. “If you don’t like it, I won’t take offense.”

Raphael’s brow furrowed as he watched her go pick up a painting. This was new.

She picked up the canvas that was almost as big as her and turned it around so he could see it. His eyes softened, despite himself.

It was a painting of him in his cambion form, painted in shades of orange. He was wearing armor and was holding a flame in one hand in the painting. He looked imposing yet regal. It was beautifully done.

“The likeness isn’t perfect,” she said with a shrug. “But I also only ever met you that one time, so…”

Raphael blinked and tried to hide how impressed he was with her work.

“Why did you do this?” he asked and looked at her.

“My little trip to the Hells was long enough for the people chasing me to lose my trail,” she explained. “So, if it hadn’t been for you, I probably would be dead.”

His eyes drifted back to the painting.

“Besides, I’ve never seen a devil before,” she said. “I thought you looked quite impressive, so I guess I got inspired. You did say that you were an ‘admirer of the arts’, so I thought it could be compensation for saving my life.”

He was flattered, even though he would never admit it. He could not remember ever receiving a gift willingly from a mortal like this.

“Do you like it?” she asked softly, as if she was half-expecting a ‘no’.

“It’s beautiful,” he said with a nod. “You are quite talented, like I said when we first met.”

“It’s yours, if you want it,” she said with a smile.

“Thank you,” he said briefly, smiling back at her. He snapped his fingers and teleported the painting to a safe location in his house.

They were quiet for a moment. For once, Raphael was not sure what to say. There was no more business to talk about, but it also felt wrong to simply leave after receiving such a gift. It was Lucienna that ended up breaking the silence.

“So, do you paint?” she asked.

“No, I do not,” he answered and cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it is one of the few things that I have never sat down to properly learn. Although, I do see the appeal and I certainly do appreciate the art.”

“Do you want to learn?” she asked. “I’ve taught students before, you know…”

Although the idea of some mortal teaching him anything did not fill him with joy, he was tempted. Perhaps he could gain her trust and make her sign his deal anyway, as he had already wasted too much time on her. It also gave him an opportunity to study this odd mortal who did not seem to fear him.

“Hm,” he hummed in thought. “Yes, why not?”

They kept meeting in her father’s basement as Lucienna taught him how to paint. Raphael started enjoying the sessions. There was something about it. It brought him a sense of peace to paint. He did not mind the compliments to his progress either. She was good at teaching him without ever being condescending.

“You’re a natural at this, you know,” she said, leaning on his shoulder as she watched him work. “The only note I have is to work on the colors. This part isn’t actually red. It’s brown.”

She pointed to the bowl of fruit on the table.

“Are you telling me that red apples are not red?” Raphael said with a chuckle.

She smiled as she mixed some colors onto a piece of paper and held it next to the apple.

“That’s because you use your head too much and not your eyes,” she said. “This is painting. Not writing.”

Raphael huffed. She was right, of course. He could see when she held the paper next to it.

Whenever he practiced at home, it was always the same motif: her. He was determined to eventually pay her back for the gift she gave him. He noticed that Lucienna’s hair was not red either, but rather nuances of brown, orange, and gold. Her eyes were also not entirely green, but rather shades of brown, green and yellow.

Somewhere along the way, the contract was brought up more as an excuse to be in her presence, rather than him actually wanting her soul. In the end it was not brought up at all. Raphael knew that she was too stubborn to sign it anyway, and perhaps she was right: perhaps she was truly safe in this peaceful little haven away from everything.

He enjoyed her company, though he loathed to admit it. The way she would lean on his shoulder when she was watching him work. The way that she looked almost insane when she was deep in concentration, with a paintbrush in her mouth or stuck in her hair as she painted like her life depended on it. The way that they could be in each other’s presence for hours without even saying a word to each other.

He knew that she liked him, but for some reason he did not want to exploit it in the same way he had done with earlier clients. It would have been all too easy to manipulate her into a deal by playing on her feelings, yet he never did.

Lucienna became an indulgence. Someone to take him far way from the endless clients and the toiling for his ungrateful father. Away from all the devils in the Hells that loathed him and away from all the mortals that feared him. Just for a moment.

It was the day when he finally decided to give her the portrait that he had painted of her that their relationship furthered into unknown territory for Raphael.

After he had made endless excuses about him not being as talented as her, he had shown her the painting that he had been working endlessly on from home. Her face brightened up and she pulled him into a kiss. After the initial shock, he wrapped his arms around her and melted into it.

Raphael was far from new to the concept of sex, although those below the Archdevils were not supposed to indulge in such things. The difference was that most of his sexual experiences had been with the incubi and succubi of his father’s palace, or rehearsed manipulation tactics he had used to lure clients. Both of which were exceptions that were acceptable for a devil of his lower rank.

This was new and most definitely forbidden, because this bordered on that awfully mortal feeling: love. Sex with her was so different from the almost theatrical performance of the incubi and succubi that he had been with during his longer visits to his father. Raphael also found no desire to put on a rehearsed performance himself.

Sex with Lucienna was clumsy and imperfect in a highly intoxicating way. They got completely lost in each other and nothing else mattered in that moment. It was heated and passionate, but in such a genuine way that it took Raphael’s breath away.

When they were done, Lucienna rested her head on his chest. Raphael was brushing his fingers through her hair when he suddenly felt her tense up a bit.

“What is it?” he asked softly.

“Your heartbeat…” she said and pressed her ear to his chest again. “You don’t have one…”

Raphael chuckled and smiled.

“I don’t have a heart, dear,” he explained. “It works differently for devils.”

“Hm,” she said and nuzzled her head against his chest. “Maybe you don’t have a literal heart, but you won’t convince me that you don’t at least have one metaphorically.”

“Oh, how dare you?” Raphael chided jokingly. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Mm…you can’t fool me,” she said and smiled. “It is slightly unsettling though…To not hear anything when you expect to.”

“I’m sure,” he said, tracing the soft skin of her arms with his fingers.

She got off his chest to lay down on her back. She patted her chest with a hand, inviting him to lay down on it.

“Here, listen to mine,” she said with a smile.

Raphael hesitated. The vulnerability of such an act did not sit well with him, but he had quickly found that he had a hard time denying this woman of anything.

He put his head on her chest and listened to her heartbeat. She held him close and rested her chin on his head. It would have looked comical for an outsider to see this much bigger man being held by this small woman, but Raphael found that he did not care.

He would never admit it to anyone, but he felt safe. Loved even. Perhaps, for the first time in his long life. There was a feeling, a flutter, in the place where his heart would have been, had he been a mortal man. They fell asleep like that together.

When he finally returned to his house in Cania in the morning, it was difficult to wipe the smile from his face. He could not stop thinking about her. He sat down to write, to try and clear his mind and record this feeling of happiness that he had not tasted for years.

“Mephistopheles missed you last night,” a voice said.

Raphael looked up to find one of Mephistopheles’s warlocks leaned against the wall, watching him. Raphael had forgotten everything about the meeting that he had promised to attend.

“Care to explain?” the warlock asked.

“I was working, Lestor,” Raphael replied coldly.

“All night? What a dutiful boy you are,” Lestor said with that shit-eating grin that Raphael had gotten so used to seeing.

It took everything to not lose his temper and tear the warlock apart for having the nerve to call him ‘boy’. Raphael knew the consequences if he did. Mephistopheles enjoyed sending mortal warlocks to spy on his son, simply to remind Raphael that he was not even worth sending another devil for.

“There were complications,” Raphael said through gritted teeth. “Please, do send Mephistopheles my deepest apologies.”

“Complications, eh?” Lestor said with a knowing smile that made Raphael slightly paranoid. “I will make sure to tell him how deeply sorry you are. Remember that you are needed at the palace these next couple of days. Whatever ‘work’ you have can wait.”

Lestor left his house. Raphael’s paranoia grew when he was left alone. Lestor couldn’t have known, could he? He had been so careful, and no one knew where she lived…

There was nothing that Raphael could do about it now. He had to get through the next couple of days before he could return to her, or he would feel his father’s wrath.

Five days later, Raphael finally had time for himself, and he decided to visit the woman who had occupied his mind ever since he returned to the Hells.

The first sign that something was wrong was that the door to the house stood open. Lucienna’s father was a paranoid man who always locked his doors.

Not two steps into the house, was the old man that he had only spoken to a couple of times during his visits. He laid sprawled on the floor, ripped apart and covered in his own blood.

Raphael’s blood in his veins turned to ice, as he saw the sigil of the mercenaries of Westgate smeared in blood on the wall.

“No…” Raphael mumbled to himself and ran to the basement.

There she was. A paintbrush in her hair, exactly where she always put them when she was focused on working. Her green eyes, that weren’t really green, stared emptily up into the ceiling above her.

“No…no…” Raphael said and fell to his knees beside her.

He leaned his head down to her chest. He knew there was no way she would be alive with the way she had been torn apart, but he had to check. The comforting pitter-patter of her heart that he had fallen asleep to just five days earlier, was gone. Raphael cried for the first time in a millennium.

“I told you…you stubborn woman…” he said angrily and brushed his fingers gently through her red hair. “You weren’t safe…”

He held her in his arms while he sobbed. He was spiraling. The emotional walls that he had used hundreds of years to build up had crashed down around him, and for a moment he was experiencing a millennium worth of pure mortal grief and sadness all at once.

He looked at her. At all the paintings that were stacked around him. He noticed that the portrait he had given her had already been hung up on the wall, and it sent a sharp pain through his chest where his heart would have been.

His eyes finally locked unto the sigil that was painted with blood on the wall, with the words under it: “Westgate does not forget”. His sadness slowly boiled into anger. Anger overtook every ounce of his being when he heard a familiar grating voice behind him:

“Mephistopheles wants to talk to you, boy,” Lestor said.

He could practically hear the smug smile in the warlock’s voice. That little shit had known, and he had informed Westgate of her whereabouts. Something in Raphael snapped.

Raphael spent that afternoon doing unspeakable things to his father’s warlock. When he was done, he burned the whole house down. He burned the all the paintings in there, the mangled corpse of Lestor, Lucienna’s father, and Lucienna, the one woman who ever loved him. A part of Raphael burned away in that fire as well. If he could, he would happily have burned down to ash with them. He felt dead inside as he returned to Cania to face his father.

“You spit in my face by not showing up to our meetings and now you arrive late yet again. I sent Lestor to collect you five hours ago. Where is he?” Mephistopheles voice boomed throughout the throne room.

“Lestor is dead,” Raphael answered.

“Dead?” Mephistopheles asked in a dangerously low voice and leaned forward on his frozen throne. “Why? Because he did his job and informed me that you were too busy fucking mortals instead of doing your job of collecting their souls?”

Raphael inhaled slowly, trying to calm the rage inside him.

“I promise you, son,” Mephistopheles said the word ‘son’ as if it was a joke to him. “Fucking mortal women isn’t worth the headache. It’s how you end up with useless fucking half-breed bastards like you.”

Raphael swallowed hard and looked at the ground, as the devils in his father’s court snickered and laughed at him.

“You have high thoughts about yourself,” Mephistopheles said. “But let me remind you that you are not even close to a rank where you are entitled to stick your cock in anything or to keep consorts! Those privileges are reserved for Archdevils exclusively, which you are not. The only reason you are alive, is because I see use for you. I will not tolerate you getting distracted from your purpose. You work for me! Is that clear?”

Raphael hated that his father could still make him flinch, just by yelling at him. He nodded.

“Yes, my lord,” Raphael said quietly, still grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Good, my boy,” Mephistopheles said with a smile that would make anyone uncomfortable.

Raphael bowed his head and turned to leave.

“One last thing,” Mephistopheles called out. “I have a gift for my little would-be lordling.”

Raphael took a deep breath and turned around. Whatever this was, it could not be good. Mephistopheles smirked at him and snapped his fingers. Someone entered the throne room and Raphael’s closed his eyes in embarrassment at the sight.

One of his father’s incubi that Raphael had slept with during one of his visits to the palace, walked through the door. They were wearing Raphael’s form. They sauntered into the room, wearing skimpy leather clothing.

The throne room was filled with roaring laughter. Even Mephistopheles was laughing from his frozen throne.

“A fitting consort for you, wouldn’t you say, boy?” Mephistopheles chuckled. “Since you only ever seem to think about yourself. Their name is Haarlep. Give it a few nights with them and you won’t even remember that little mortal bitch you seemed so obsessed with.”

Rage was threatening to overtake him. He wanted to kill every last laughing devil in the room. He wanted to give his father the most excruciating death he could think of. Raphael also knew that he was no match for any of them. He had to bide his time, and that time would come someday. He would make sure of it.

“What do you say then?” Mephistopheles said, looking down on him from his throne.

Raphael looked at the incubus with disdain and then at his father. Raphael wanted to say many things in that moment: That he would one day take his father’s throne. That Mephistopheles would one day cower at the feet of his son. That he did not care if he had to wait millennium after millennium for him to finally get his revenge.

Raphael took a deep breath and bit his tongue, though it took everything in him to do so.

“Thank you, my lord,” Raphael said through gritted teeth.

“Good boy,” Mephistopheles said with a smile. “Now get out of my sight. I hope you have learned something from this.”

Raphael was sitting in his bed, looking at the right-hand painting in his boudoir. The painting that Lucienna had gifted him all those years ago. He had spent so much money throughout the years on getting it carefully restored.

He couldn’t remember her face anymore, but he could remember all those colors he studied when he looked at her. Her red hair, that was not red, but rather nuances of brown, orange, and gold. Her eyes that were not entirely green, but rather shades of brown, green and yellow. He heard the sound of her heartbeat in his mind each time he went to rest.

When he looked at Tav, that stubborn whelp, he sometimes found himself wondering what her heartbeat sounded like. Wondering which colors he would use if he were to paint her hair and her eyes. And there it was again that flutter where his heart would have been if he had one. Lucienna’s words echoed in his mind.

“Maybe you don’t have a literal heart, but you won’t convince me that you don’t at least have one metaphorically.”

No. He didn’t and he couldn’t. That part of him was dead and gone and it would remain that way. Raphael shook his head and crushed that feeling in his chest. No more distractions. Not when he was so close to the crown. Not when he was so close to finally getting his revenge.

[throneofsapphics]

any chance you would write a part two to broken promises?? it’s absolutely a masterpiece and i’m so invested in the way you write him 😭😭💕

broken promises (part two)

(part one)

Fenrys x f!Reader

Summary: Fenrys watched as y/n crumbled, again, and the thin tether he kept on his self control snapped

Warnings: bad family dynamics, not proofread 

Word Count: ~1.9k 

A/N: thank you for requesting it! I definitely plan on writing more with him in the future, but I wanted to finish this up first

In the following weeks, she’s certain Fenrys is the only reason she kept sane. 

A letter arrived from home, stating she had “one chance to return and explain herself.” The way the letter was written, she knew exactly what her father thought of her timely departure. No news of her ‘engagement,’ arrived in Orynth, thankfully. 

She’d make a return, she’d go back just to tell him exactly what she thought of the situation. Give him a piece of her mind and damn the consequences. 

-

“Am I abandoning my people, this way?” She asked Aelin quietly. 

She paused, a chocolate inches away from her mouth, and placed it back down on the table. An important enough question the Queen put a sweet back down, y/n would’ve laughed if the topic hadn’t been so serious. 

“No,” Aelin said firmly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Did he try to give you responsibilities before this? Any role in your court?” She shook her head. “He’s only using you when you’ve become a convenient pawn.” 

The words, no matter how truthful, still stung. But, that’s something she’s always appreciated about Aelin - she never sugar coats her words. 

“It hurts.” Aelin’s gaze softened as she frowned. “If it wouldn’t cause such a scandal, I’d burn him to ashes.” 

Y/n chuckled softly. “I believe you.” 

“Will you go back?” Aelin was worrying her bottom lip. 

“Yes,” she rolled her shoulders back. “To tell him exactly what I think of his scheme.” She grinned, and caught Aelin’s nod of approval. 

“You shouldn’t go alone.” Y/n opened her mouth to protest, but Aelin held up a hand. “I know you can take care of yourself, but it’s always good to have someone in your corner.” She tilted her head, “maybe Fenrys would go with you?” 

“On your orders,” y/n snorted. But - the idea of him coming back with her, of spending more time with him - sprinting through the woods, being with him in general, sounded nice to her. 

“I don’t think I have to order him. Why don’t you ask him yourself?” 

A pit of nerves formed in her stomach, but she nodded at her friend. She could do that. 

-

“You had to bring another one of your kind along? Couldn’t speak to me on your own?”

“I chose to come with her. What did you mean, ‘our kind’?” 

The man rolled his eyes. “Don’t be daft.” 

Y/n took a step forward, and he saw the rage glowing in her eyes. “Careful how you speak, father.”

“You only prove me right.” 

He watched her eyes glow, her canines flash slightly. Things Fenrys loves, but her father … he sees them as something awful, and he couldn’t help himself from butting in. “At least ‘our kind,’ can keep promises. Unlike some surly power hungry bastards.” The man glared at him for a second, before turning back to his daughter.

“Spreading all of the family business now?” 

Fenrys isn’t used to being ignored. This man has no idea who he is, a benefit in some scenarios, but right now he wants to strike fear into him. Still, this is her fight and he came here to support her. 

“You made it clear where I stand in this family.”

“I’m giving you the choice.” Her fathers voice was almost desperate. But did he want to hang on to his daughter or his power? 

“You’re not giving me a choice at all. Marriage or disownment.” She said blandly, her face perfectly neutral. 

Fenrys watched her father’s every move, every slight stiffening of a muscle, the way he shifted his weight, how close his hand was to any blade. At least he had the common sense to keep his hands far away from those. One look at him might’ve done that. 

“You would abandon your people that quickly.” 

Fenrys watched as y/n crumbled, again, and the thin tether he kept on his self control snapped. “Funny of you to talk about abandonment, you only took an interest in your daughter after she lost her mother.” He said with an edged chuckle, making sure the man saw his canines flash. A bit of fear trickled into his scent. Good. Y/n laid a gentle hand on his arm, sending him a glance he couldn’t quite decipher, but he understood the message ‘please stop.’ So, against his instinct - the one to rip into this man for hurting his female … no his friend, and kept his mouth shut. 

~

Her father all but ordered them to vacate the premises, and y/n had taken off without grabbing any of her things - determined to put as much distance as possible between her and the estate. He followed, keeping pace with her, and letting her have silence. 

“I didn’t need you to speak for me.” She snapped. Fenrys went still. “I didn’t mean that,” her eyes closed. “Thank you - is what I meant to say. I couldn’t have …” 

“I wasn’t the nicest.” Fenrys added, as her words trailed off. 

“It’ll be one of my new favorite memories.” She said, sincerely, and grinned at him. 

-

Fenrys was with her when the letter arrived. He watched her hands shake, tracing over the seal. He slowly laid a hand on her shoulder, not wanting to scare her. She tilted her head to look at him, and gave him a tight smile. 

“I should probably open this sitting,” she switched back to the letter, tracing her fingers around the seal, but didn’t move. 

He debated what to do for a second, how he could best help - if this is something he could help with. Sucking in his bottom lip, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the closest private garden. She leaned into his touch, but her eyes never left the letter. He barely steadied her as she tripped over a small rock. She murmured a thank you, and he shrug it off. 

“Here,” he motioned towards the bench. A beautiful garden Aelin had planted - but one the groundskeepers hated. Wildflowers grew everywhere except the cobblestone path leading through it. Natural - that’s what she wanted. It’s one of his favorite places, somewhere he can go to breathe. 

He sat next to her, leaving a few careful inches between them. Her hands shook as she opened it, but he wouldn’t insult her by asking if she wanted him to. 

Formal, thick parchment came out, and a neatly written script. Fenrys looked away, realizing he was being nosy. Less than a minute later, he heard the flutter of paper, falling right to the ground. 

He turned to her in alarm, only finding y/n’s eyes already fixed on him, wide and lining with tears. 

“Disowned.” She seemed to crumble in front of him, her shoulders caving in, face falling. 

-

Fenrys stood, pulling her up with him, and tugged her into his chest. She didn’t think too much about it, only leaning into him - letting his warmth anchor her. She had a general idea of what it would be as soon as she felt the thick parchment beneath her fingers - the crisp, formal paper and the seal. He never used to seal. 

Still, seeing it in writing formally stripped of any titles, holdings, or birthrights… not that she had or wanted any in the first place, permanently disowned, she could live with that, but the last part - the one that stripped her of her last name. She has her mothers name, of course, but … no longer a member of their family. Would her brothers reach out to her? Or her cousins, her extended family all living in Eldrys? What kind of tale would he tell them? And would they believe him? - that’s her biggest question. Maybe she could search for her mothers family, she’d wanted to for years but any inquiries she made to her father were shut down. 

She didn’t want to, but slowly separated herself from Fenrys’s hold, and took a step back, crouching to pick up the paper, before handing it to him wordlessly. Y/n watched his eyes scan the page, watched how they lit in fury. The paper crumbled slightly where his fingers clenched. 

“Careful,” she joked “I want to frame that.” 

He snorted. “And I want to punch someone in the face.” The corners of her mouth turned up, she knows exactly who he would like to hit. 

“As long as I can get the first hit.” 

He gave her a half-grin, handing the paper back towards her. 

“Who are we fighting?” She heard Aelin, turning to see the Queen yawn, one hand covering her mouth. “And not in my garden.” She rubbed some sleep out of her eyes, before spotting y/n. Tear tracks still ran down her eyes, a paper clutched in her hands. Aelin’s eyes were drawn to it, and y/n watched her glance between that and her expression. She didn’t wait for her to ask, only held the paper out in front of her. 

Within seconds, Aelin had crossed the space between them, gently snatching it from her hands and began reading. 

“Don’t burn it,” y/n said quickly, “I need to frame that.” 

Aelin ignored her - but didn’t burn the paper. Her hands shook in fury, but she’d calmed her expression by the time she looked up at her, and pasted a crooked grin on her face. “Congratulations or sorrows?” 

Y/n burst into laughter, even as more tears escaped her eyes, and crossed the distance to her best friend, wrapping her in a tight hug. 

-

In the following months, she learned that her name became synonymous with traitor and trash in her home lands. Her friends here, the ones in Orynth, made sure to spread the actual story. She convinced Aelin to keep silent, but couldn’t stop the other friends she’d made in the city.

“The people need a scandal every once in a while.” Fenrys mused, his arm wrapped around her. 

“I’m not a scandal,” she hissed at him. 

“Not you,” he said quickly, “your fathers actions.” 

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that big -” 

“Yes it is.” He interrupted her. She pressed her lips in a tight line. He knows she hates that, and he grimaced - an apology from him if she’d ever seen one. “It’s a big deal, what happened to you. Don’t undermine it, your experiences.” 

She froze as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Fenrys went still, his eyes wide, as if he thought he’d made a big mistake. 

Y/n rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, and decided to throw caution to the wind. She shifted so she sat on her knees on the couch, tall enough she could reach him, and carefully reached out to lay a hand on his cheek. 

Everything between them, the tension she felt and hoped he did to, had evolved slowly. They hadn’t kissed, hadn’t touched beyond gentle and casual embraces. But … he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes softly.

When he opened them again, she summoned every bit of confidence she could and asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

His hand cupped her back of her head, running his thumb along her cheek, and it was her turn to lean into his touch. 

“Nobody’s ever asked me that before.” His voice was quiet and distant. She felt like she’d made a big mistake. She pulled away from him. 

“I’m - I'm sorry, I did-didn’t mean to,” her words stumbled out, but he gently pushed her head towards him, stopping a hair's-breadth away. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and he closed the gap between them.