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adonis-koo · 1 year ago

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wicked • 17

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 8k

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Note: it’s actually difficult to believe it’s been eight months since I’ve updated, went through two jobs, a friend group and a boyfriend who gaslit the absolute fuck out of me and made me experience female hysteria 😍 I wrote this chapter the night he broke up with me so it just has that nice little extra touch of ✨ intensity ✨ enjoy lovies and I will be back hopefully sooner then last time with another update

It felt wrong, packing a small case of clothes while so many things at the castle had yet to play out, and Wheein’s life was hanging in the balance of it.

You had no intentions to trudge your way to the barracks but here you were; early morning where all of the guards were training and the person you were looking for was watching them, hands on his hips as he called out to one of them to tighten their guard.

You hadn’t planned on talking to him today, but leaving without so much as saying a word felt wrong, and perhaps after everything that had happened you were searching for sober reassurance.

“Jungkook.”

Everybody froze at the sound of your voice, you ignored all the eyes on you, after having lived in Penumbra for almost a year, you had somewhere along the way gotten used to all of the eyes that constantly followed you.

The guards exchanged awkward glances with one another, Jungkook looked surprised by your appearance, eyes glancing over you as if you were a hallucination, but after a moment it was evident you weren’t going to disappear upon blinking.

He glanced between you and the guards before he waved them off, “Keep going.”

You couldn’t stand the hopeful look in his eyes, almost a bit bashful as you walked in line with him further away from the barracks, “How can you expect me to leave the castle when Wheein is in a dungeon? And furthermore sending your aunt to try and reconcile with me?”

Jungkook frowned, “Well I doubted you wanted to see me after my drunk display- which truth be told I hardly remember anything I said, and It’s probably for the best that I don’t, Y/n…” He sighed as he stopped, “It was only a suggestion, it crossed my mind about the estate because truthfully I think you would like it there, and it would be safe,” His hands tenderly grabbed your shoulders as your lips curled in anger but you said nothing, “And I think it would be good for you to put all of this out of your head for a few days. I’ll continue to handle things here and if things change with Wheein trust that I’ll be able to take care of it.”

Your expression didn’t change as Jungkook frowned, “I would also like to remind you that she’s been one of my closest friends since I was a child. You’re not the only one who cares for her.”

You begrudgingly looked away from him but your expression softened, a stab of guilt surging through your stomach at the realization that he was very much right, “I know, I’m sorry I just-”

“Don’t be,” Jungkook replied, “You have a mean bite but I can appreciate your loyalty. I can’t undo the past but I want to make things right. I…” Jungkook paused, looking hesitant his eyes darting away from you and then back to you once more.

You offered no words forcing him to sigh, as if it was difficult for him to admit, “I want to be with you Y/n, not as two people amicable due to marriage or friends on uneasy terms…” He bit down on his cheek, unable to hold your steely gaze as his hand hesitantly reached out, tenderly stroking along your jawline, “I want more than that with you, I want all of the fire and all of the rage, I want the pain, the hardships. I want you, all of you, every flaw that makes you, you.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes had blurred until his thumbs were tenderly pushing your tears away, “Is this a declaration?”

“It’s a promise.” Jungkook’s eyes held such a softness in them filled with something you still felt uncertain to assume, “You told me that you wanted to bear the deepest parts of yourself to me, all of your insecurities, the parts you don’t like about yourself, the parts you may even hate, so I am standing here to tell you to show me, show me all of it, and I will still take you as you are.”

He was saying many overwhelming words to you, but you knew he was dancing around the most important word, you could see it in his eyes, how it lingered on the tip of his tongue.

But something was stopping him from truly confessing it.

Perhaps even after all of these months, it was still too soon.

Evidently so given your circumstances.

“I don’t want you away from me,” Jungkook admitted, a frown slowly forming on his lips, “But if that’s what it takes, I would wait a lifetime if it meant your forgiveness, if it meant a second chance to be with you.”

“Is that why you’re willing to send me away?” You sniffled, “Otherwise you’ll continue to drink and wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” Jungkook gave a weak smile, “But you can’t deny it got my point across didn’t it?”

Just his smile made something in you crumble, a vast desire to embrace him here and to forgive him, surely you could put this all behind you…?

But a bigger part of you didn’t want to rush this, you didn’t want to be complacent anymore, that was how you got into this situation, how you immediately jumped to Claudin’s offer rather than confide in the person you were married to.

It was such a raw feeling, you could feel it licking at your very soul, trying to tame your desire to throw all caution to the wind once more.

And for a brief moment you could feel Jungkook have the same reaction as you, as if it took every fiber in his being to not beg you to stay, you don’t know if you could stand your ground against him again if he came on as strong as he had last night.

“Just for a few days.” You whispered out as he frowned, giving you an understanding nod.

“You’ll love it there.” His hands finally let go of you, somewhat reluctantly.

And then it was silent for a long moment, tension still lingering in the air and both of you clearly hesitant.

“Then…I’ll see you in a few days.” You mumbled and Jungkook nodded once more. It felt like the ground was trying to engulf your feet as you turned around, feeling oddly empty at your goodbye, waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

What was it you had hoped for? A hug…?

Maybe a kiss…?

But then again, it felt as though you were no longer deserving of those things, Jungkook may have done things to hurt you but you had also done things to hurt him, how could you both love one another if you couldn’t trust one another first?

You wished Jungkook had reached out for you, to at least give you some form of affection before leaving, but he also knew this was true, and let you leave with no grief.

It left you feeling empty inside, but this was for the best.

You journeyed over horseback for the day, trying to leave your fretting heart behind as you nervously glanced back at the far away sight of the castle, what if something developed with Wheein?

You felt as though you were betraying her just by leaving, more than anything you were desperate to get her back, perhaps that was why Jungkook was sending you away, as if he sensed your desperation would only heighten the longer this went on.

Dare you say, he feared the worst might happen if you stayed.

Your grip tightened on your reigns, once more trying to put it out of your mind, taking a deep breath you took in the heady scent of the pine tree’s the surrounded you, the Estate was much closer to the mountains then you had anticipated, by midday you had journeyed far enough that snow had already reached the ground.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi had slowed his horse down to ride next to you, his eyes however still scoured ahead for possible danger.

“What do you mean?” You frowned as you glanced at his back, hearing a branch snap as your eyes darted towards the left of him.

Your faithful companion Fenrir having accidentally broke the branch he had been carrying in his mouth the past hour he had grown fond of, a whine leaving him in disappointment as he picked up the bigger side.

“Journeying away from the castle during these trying times…” Yoongi glanced back at you, a frown of his own, “It can’t be easy leaving with everything that’s happened.”

You didn’t reply for a long moment, Yoongi slowed down to ride beside you as he curiously took in your expression.

It was silent for a long moment before you finally relented, “It is difficult, but…After a long night, I figured this was probably best. It seems like my involvement in things only tends to make them worse. And truthfully there's no telling what lengths I’d go to at this point to get Wheein back.”

“Oh?” Yoongi looked curiosity once more, “I didn’t realize you had such a taste for danger.”

His joke made a smile finally tug on your lips, “Neither did I before coming to Penumbra. It seems this kingdom has a way of bringing out the primitive nature in me. But then again, it seems people have always looked down on me when I think of it.”

“On you?” Yoongi scoffed in amusement, “Dryad Matron of Eunoia? It’s difficult to believe, you’re like a pillar of light to the commonwealth of Penumbra, it used to drive the Prince nuts during your engagement.”

“It did…?” You peered somewhat hesitantly at him.

This made Yoongi grin, “Oh yes, when news of your engagement first broke out it had the people ecstatic, it had him gagging every second he heard good things of you.”

“This is hardly making me feel better…” You winced, though a small part of you was amused to hear this, though you wish you could say the same.

It always seemed to you that people in Penumbra didn’t fully grasp just how much people feared them on the outside world, instead poking fun at the titles they had earned as if it was a little joke.

The whole two years of your engagement are two years you’d rather die then live through again, the anxiety that kept you up at night, the endless amounts of tears you cried, the emptiness it left inside you how no one even tried to comfort you.

Looking back you understood, nobody wanted to feed you lies to comfort you, but at the time, you didn’t understand, it felt cruel.

“Not everyone feels that way about me, evidently from what I saw in the Underside.” You replied, somewhat reminiscing on the horrendous memory of the mock version of you.

“You shouldn’t pay that any mind,” Yoongi scoffed, “The humor is juvenile there, everything it stands for is juvenile, even it’s name; the Underside was a joke, a mockery meant for every royal that has to say it’s name with seriousness, point being- they don’t respect anyone who won’t give them money.”

You only shook your head, “It’s not just that though, there has always been a small part of people and court alike who haven’t liked me, even long before I was engaged to Jungkook. I was known for having a temper,” It made you smile wryly, “-The Bitch of Eunoia, that’s what they ran around calling me behind my back. It was horrendous in Kimhae.”

“Was it now?” Yoongi looked amused by this, “That in some ways does, and doesn’t surprise me.”

“The court ladies in Eunoia often liked to call me that as well. But it was very pronounced by Kimhae court men. When I was younger, I used to wear traditional Eunoian attire when i’d visit. Apparently shoulders and knee’s used to drive them crazy. I had one of the aristocrats boldly ask me if I was an exotic woman of the night, willing to pay for me.”

Yoongi’s jaw had dropped making you laugh as he gestured you on, “What did you say?”

“Something along the lines of calling him a perverted old man whom ought to have his loins cut off for making such a comment to a women- let alone a Princess.” The memory made you smile as you shook your head, “The Bitch of Eunoia…why is it men are allowed to be angry Yoongi? Why is it women are shamed so?”

Yoongi let out a hum, “This is indeed a good question, but perhap it’s because they know a woman's scorn could even bring heaven out of the sky. I’m not all too surprised about Kimhae- but you said Eunoians called you this as well?”

Your smile became saddened, “By many court ladies yes,” You scratched your cheek in thought, “I was always lonely as a child…the war took a toll on me, I was temperamental and childish. But the court ladies as children, also liked to mock me and egg me on. As we grew older they grew closer and I still stayed a distance away. They’d find any reason to pick me apart or give me more work to do. They were practically leaping for joy when the news broke that I was engaged.”

“Why do you think that was though?” Yoongi asked, “That they didn’t like you?”

You shrugged, you had never really thought about it much, rather you preferred to keep the past where it was rather then dwell on it, “I suppose it had a lot to do with the fact that while we were all training to be healers I excelled more at it, it came naturally to me and they ended up putting me in the tents before the others. They all assumed it was from favoritism…Maybe it was,” You pondered on this briefly, “I just remember thinking it wasn’t fair.”

“Fair?”

You didn’t elaborate on the word for a long moment, feeling something akin to guilt bubble in your stomach.

You glanced off into the distance where the mountains towered high, it made you feel so tiny in comparison to its greatness, and briefly you felt awe.

You always admired nature, how vast it was compared to you and all your humanly troubles, you turned to it and it’s kin when you needed comfort and in these moments you could turn to it when you were also troubled with words.

It was difficult to adequately explain to people the rage you had felt since you were a child, anger had always been in your bones, from the moment you were born. Your mother used to tell you, that when she gave birth, you had come out of her womb with a roaring cry.

You craved to be vulnerable, to be soft and tender, to be all the things you were not, and you were many things, just not those.

Many people people heard you, they just never listened, didn’t understand.

“I had a lot of resentment as a child, to everything, the war, my parents, our country. I didn’t want to be a healer, I didn’t want to have to watch people in my care die, I didn’t want to attend the burnings or hear the whales of agony and pain, the cries of mourning, the people who blamed me for not being able to save their loved ones.”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel haunted by those memories, watching the lifeforce leave someone's body as you tried to stop the bleeding, the maimed limbs and mangled bodies that were beyond your skill or help.

“I didn’t want to be made to go past our lesson times to keep studying, or made to go back in to practice when all the other girls were allowed to play. Or put in a tent over night while they all slept. It wasn’t fair.”You mumbled, perhaps still a lingering tone of resentment.

The past was the past, it couldn’t be changed, you had come to terms with this, but if you stopped and really thought about it, old feelings old eventually begin to resurface, it was why you tried so desperately to just forget about it.

At one time you blamed Penumbra, you hated it’s people for what they did, what they caused.

But then you married Jungkook and you journeyed here yourself, and saw with your own eyes, that these people, were simply people, who were also victims of their own royalty.

You felt the soft grip of a hand on your shoulder, “I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” Yoongi held a face of sympathy, “We all felt the same, or…I suppose a mutual feeling on the opposite side of things. Children being forced to enlist into a war we didn’t want to wage with little choice…”

You gently grabbed his hand giving it a small squeeze, a weak smile on your face, “It wasn’t fair for any of us. We’re all a bi-product of our parents' sins. It’s up to us now to break that cycle.”

You had arrived to the estate by nightfall and it was shrouded in tall pine and fir trees, the aroma had you closing your eyes for a moment to savor it, just as Jungkook said, it truly was beautiful.

Snow covered the ground in a few inches, and a chill was left in your bones, but you settled in rather nicely, Yoongi had managed to get a fire going rather quickly and it was quiet in the solitude of the estate.

For once, it was nice to be able to breathe without being watched.

The first two days had went by surprisingly quick, but you had found a natural rhythm in nature, you went on long peaceful walks, kept yourself wrapped in a blanket while sitting on the terrace taking in the crisp cool air.

You had even spent the evening watching the snowfall outside, enchanted at how it came in big fluttering puffy balls, you had heard of snow before, but you had never actually seen it fall from the sky, like a thousand little gifts from the heavens.

It was dull and gray out today, the same as it had been for the last week now, at the estate was unsurprisingly no different.

Today however you had Yoongi set up some haybales in the pit area where guards would typically be trained, it was run down now, old boxes used as storage had been broken down and were hazardously strewn everywhere, long nine inch rusty nails sticking out of wooden pieces at razor sharp jagged angles.

But with Yoongi’s help you both had piled it up safely away and got a decent bit of space ready for training.

“Too stiff-”

“Ah!”

It was a second too late, you had already released the string, sending the arrow flying, it had veered off target as the string slapped your forearm with a sharp snap causing you to drop it.

Fenrir suddenly popped up from the ground where he had been laid out the last half hour, head cocked in concern at the noise that escaped you.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Yoongi groaned, “You can’t hold it with a stiff arm! Look at this!” He got up from his spot as he held up your arm by the wrist, “It looks like somebody gave you a lashing! Jungkook will have my head if it isn’t heal by tomorrow.”

Your lips twisted into a sulky pout, “I am trying!”

“Not hard enough that’s the fifth time within the hour,” Yoongi whistled out as he let you go, Fenrir walking up to you as he sniffed your hand, giving it a lick before nudging it.

You rubbed your forearm, that was undeniably sore and throbbing with pain before placing your hand on Fenrir’s head to give it a nice long rub.

He had grown remarkably big in the last month, almost as big as you now, just a five or six inches shorter, it made you give a sad frown, at how big he was and soon he’d become a monstrous size…

You’d simply have to build a bigger stable you supposed.

“Aim comes naturally but holding a weapon does not,” You sighed as you placed both your hands on Fenrir’s head, now giving him generous rubs and pats that had him giving a toothy puppy grin that made you smile, “I’ve practiced here and there with a bow but with everything going on, I just haven’t made it a priority.”

Yoongi sighed, “Natural ability will only get you so far, discipline if a far greater advantage Princess, thankfully we can start working on this daily, I think it’d be good for you to have a hobby.”

“I have hobbies.” You frowned as crossed your arms.

“Such as…?” Yoongi gestured.

“Well…” You could think of several as a matter of fact, but you had given them all up once you had moved to Penumbra, the thought made you frown in realization, you had been so caught up in all the highs and lows of your new life that it was true.

You had hobbies, you just never participated in any of them.

“I suppose it would do me some good to work on it,” You sighed as you relented, “I still feel a tad guilty though, shouldn’t I be honing my skill in swordsmanship? Jungkook once told me that it’s expected the Crowned Prince and Princess are supposed to be the best at it.”

“Well…” Yoongi stretched the word, “This is true but, I don’t think somebody is going to fault you for not being the best at it. I’d like to think it’s an expectation from those born in Penumbra, not those who marry in. Not only this but if you are inclined to another form of weaponry, then it’s as simple as that.

“As long as you have some form of sword training then it’ll do,” Yoongi shrugged, “What matters is personal protection, some training is better then none, but having a form of training you’re good at is even better.”

“You Penumbrian’s certainly like taking precautions.” You sighed wistfully as you picked up your bow once more.

“The more the better,” Yoongi said, “Guards are great, but what happens when you’re caught without any? Learning to defend yourself is vital.”

You glanced down at your bow, “I understand but…”

“But?” Yoongi asked.

“Well, I suppose a part of me just feels odd,” You replied, “I grew up being taught to save lives, not take them,” You rubbed your neck in uncertainty, “When I took the Dryad’s oath, it was a promise to myself and my ancestors that I would abstain from our carnal nature. That I would never take a life nor would I consume its flesh. Animal or human. Even though the chances of me having to defend myself in such a way are so low, it’s odd to train for it, after taking that oath and living by it my whole life.”

Yoongi let out a small smile, “Then don’t view it as such.”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head.

“Sword play is considered an art form in Penumbra, you can view a bow in the same light. It’s quite a beautiful thing really, it’s not just aiming and shooting, it’s how you hold it, the type of arrow you use, the weight of your feet. A lot goes into it.”

You thought on this for a while before nodding, “I suppose you are right.”

“Min Yoongi! I’m looking for a Min Yoongi?”

A voice called out that had you both glancing around the courtyard before seeing the courier at the gates glancing around before meeting his gaze.

“Yes?” Yoongi called out, walking up to meet him.

“I have a letter for you sire! It was urgent from the court” The courier dug through his bag before handing it to him, giving a short bow to you and then departing.

You glanced at it anxiously as you exchanged a look with Yoongi, was this about Wheein?

Yoongi opened the letter, reading it before he sighed,

“What, what is it?” You asked, anxiety in your voice.

“It’s not about Wheein,” You let out a breath in relief as Yoongi continued, “But it is a request for help.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Yoongi sighed, “There’s a watchtower just east of here, about an hour away give or take on horseback, apparently they’ve been dealing with a gang of bandits up there. Supposedly they’re going to siege the tower.”

“They can do that?” You asked in surprise.

Yoongi shrugged, “I suppose so, I don’t know what they think I can do about it.”

“Well you said you were an assassin before you became a knight? So surely that counts for something.” You said, setting down your bow on a lonely bale of hay.

Yoongi sighed as he folded the letter back up, “Even so, I won’t just leave you here by yourself.”

You frowned, “It’s only us here, and it��s secluded so I won’t be in any real danger, and you said it was only an hour away. I doubt you’d take long in taking them down.”

“Are you just trying to get rid of me?” Yoongi asked in mild amusement.

“I would never!” You said, “But I’d hate to see something unfortunate happen that could be prevented, you’re far closer then someone is to the castle. It would make the most sense for you to go.”

Yoongi sighed, “Even if I’m over cautious, it doesn’t sit right leaving you here all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be alone!” You replied, grinning as you gave Fenrir a solid pat, “Fenrir will defend me! Jungkook and I have been working on commands. Sit!”

Fenrir immediately complied.

“Very fierce.” Yoongi said dryly.

You held up a finger, grabbing a piece of wooden box that was free of any nails off the ground, “Fenrir,” He perked up at his name, “Attack!” You threw it causing his gaze to follow it with a loud snarling howl, his jaws crunching the board in half immediately grabbing the smaller end.

Running back to you before dropping down on his front paws, tail wagging as he tried to get you to chase him.

Yoongi looked a bit more startled at the thick board of wood that had been crushed as he nodded, “Okay, a little more fierce than before…” Yoongi thought about it for a long moment, “I suppose if I left now I would make it back by supper….Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

You gave him a small smile, “It’s only a few hours, I think I’ll be able to manage.”

Yoongi still seemed hesitant but he nodded, “I’ll go gather a few things then and be off. The sooner I leave the sooner I’ll be back.”

“It’s one night,” You smiled, “And then we’ll be back at the castle tomorrow.”

You had waved Yoongi off before you continued on with your day.

Spending another few hours training with your bow you had eventually given up once the string of your bow hit a particularly sensitive spot on your forearm.

The rest of your day had been spent taking walks along the trail’s with Fenrir before eventually settling inside, roaming the halls and exploring empty rooms.

And eventually the afternoon came.

But slowly the sun began to set and a vague feeling of dread followed along with it.

Yoongi…would’ve been back by now, right?

Or perhaps it took him longer to clear out the bandits.

You nodded at this as you stayed curled up in your large chair, Fenrir curled up beneath your feet as he let out a sigh, as if sensing your discomfort and unsatisfied with it.

Continuing to read, time went on and soon the sun had set.

You had managed to get a fire going on your own and had lit the candles in the hall, making the estate feel less consuming then it had before but it didn’t quell your anxiousness as the hour went on later.

Yoongi would certainly be back by now…

You were certain you’d manage the commute back to the castle if you had too but…You wouldn’t feel right just leaving without him, but you also had no way of sending a message to the castle for help without going back yourself.

You felt at a loss for what to do, as you roamed the main hall, pausing at the sound of the gate opening. Opening the doorway you hurried out to the courtyard.

“Yoongi, I’ve been waiting all day, you worried me sick!” You stopped short at the sight ahead of you.

“Not who you were expecting?”

Di Jin’s smug smile was the last thing you saw before the sudden blow to your head caused your vision to go dark.

“You look lost.” Jimin commented as he plopped in a seat right next to his dearest friend, both sat out for breakfast on the terrace.

“Was it a good idea sending her to the Estate?” Jungkook stared down in hard contemplation, his food untouched, “If something happens I won’t be able too…!”

He inhaled sharply as he forced himself to lean back in his chair, but despite the motion his body refused to relax.

You had left two days ago and he felt a void ever since.

Jungkook didn’t realize how much your presence had filled every inch of the castle until you had left, and now, he felt utterly useless, it was one thing for you to be mad at him, it was another for you to be gone.

Jimin looked amused but felt bad for him nonetheless, “Nothing is going to happen to her, the estate is nice and tucked away, the entire court has forgotten about it anyways, it hasn’t been used in years. You did a good thing.”

“Did I?” Jungkook finally slumped.

He had been constantly replaying his last memory of you, the conversation you both had before you left, the memory of you looking up at him for a long moment as if silently yearning for some form of affection.

It left Jungkook’s hands twitching and an unfamiliar ache in his chest, he couldn’t even describe how it felt. And he was honest when he spoke with you the night before, true he didn’t remember much, but what he did remember was straight from his heart, he thought he knew many things.

But after meeting you he found out quickly that he knew nothing at all.

Tomorrow, surely you’d be back tomorrow. You hadn’t given him an exact timeframe, but surely when you said a few days, you had meant no more then three?

“What if I-”

“No.” Jimin cut him off, “The whole point of her going was to get out of the castle and by default away from you. Not only that but what if something happened to Wheein while you were gone?”

Jungkook sunk back in his chair, that was right…He had promised you he would take care of anything that might possibly happen.

He wouldn’t let you down.

“Have you found any evidence yet?” Jungkook lowered his voice, his gaze lingering on the far side of the table where Claudin had been dining with a group of court ladies.

Jimin frowned, “Yes but the problem is getting it open,” He huffed, “I was able to slip into his room last night, it was empty but he has a lock box beneath a hollowed broken floorboard piece, seems he was in a hurry when he left, otherwise it wouldn’t have been left afar.

“Regardless I haven’t been able to crack the lock. Whatever is in there, it has a master’s lock on it. I’ll need at least another dozen picks before I even come close to cracking it.”

Jungkook sighed as he shook his head in disdain, “Of course when we need Yoongi he’s gone.”

Their elder would be able to open it within the hour if he was here.

Jimin frowned as well, “I’ll try again this afternoon.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, “That’s early for you.”

“We’re running out of time Jungkook,” Jimin sighed, sinking back into his chair as well, eyeing Claudin with a certain wryness, “I keep hearing stirrings from the guards about how they’ve narrowed their search, but they’re hellbent on saying it was Wheein.”

“Sire,”

They both paused at the sight of Taehyun, a frown on his face as he glanced between them both, an anxious look as he bowed slightly, “It’s the council…they’ve summoned you. It doesn’t sound good, you should come as well Jimin.”

Jungkook glanced at his friend but said nothing as he stood up, not liking this one bit.

The walk to the throne room was swift and Jungkook wasted no time in arriving, the other council members had just arrived as well.

Clearly he wasn’t the only one uncertain of what was going on, other members had started hushing whispers to one another, all glancing in Jungkook’s direction occasionally as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he glanced at the empty throne the seats on its left occupied by his aunt and uncle whispering to one another.

They both glanced at him once before quickly looking away.

The tension felt suffocating and the longer it lasted the more anxious Jungkook felt, seconds turned into minutes and the whispers began to get louder.

And all within a moment, the doors open and a sweepingly silence took over the room save for the sound of boots against the ground. Dae Seong walked with confience in every step before standing before everyone on the throne.

“It is with confidence I have come to announce something of the utmost importance,” His voice boomed, “The attempted assassination on our Crowned Princess, was indeed committed by her maid Jung Wheein, we have reason enough to believe it was her as all the evidence points as such. Her form of punishment will be burning at the stake, tonight at the height of the moon. I ask you all join me on this divine distribution of punishment,”

Groaning softly your vision was blurry at first, and the first person to appear in your vision was not who you expected.

“Not so quick witted now are you Eunoian Bitch,” Seohyun sneered, her smirking figure beneath you as your vision of her doubled.

Your mind was confused as you only remembered Di Jin being here, your eyes closed briefly only for a sharp pain to spread through your side that you recognized as being kicked in the side by her.

Groaning your eyes opened and her eyes beaded, sneering at you as another voice spoke, “Come along now Seohyun, why don’t you go see if that insufferable knight has managed to come back yet, I will finish our business here.”

She eyed you warily but said no more as she left and soon Di Jin stood in front of you, “You have truly been a pain in my ass since I was enlisted to kill you, I only hope you realize that.”

There was no remorse in his eyes as he pulled the wickedly curved knife from it’s sheath and a sadistic smile curled on his face, “Don’t worry Princess, i’ll make sure you have a slow miserable death.”

Despite your sluggish movements, adrenaline had shot in your veins as you realized you were about to die, you had too much to live for still. You needed to see what would come of Eunoia, you needed to make sure Wheein was okay, that you would keep your promise to Jungkook.

You couldn’t die, and you would fight if it meant living to see it.

Your mind was slowly coming out of it’s haze as Di Jin stepped closer to you, realizing you were in the courtyard near the hay bales, the pile you had cleaned early next to you, your arm reached over to grab one of the planks, three long rusted nails sticking out of it.

You swung it with as much force as you could towards his legs, it made contact, the nail piercing his skin with a wet noise as he cried out in pain, falling back on the ground as he growled out. “You dumb bitch, a pain until the end!”

You attempted to crawl away, heart pounding in your ears as you scurried but he was still too mobile, yanking the plank out of his leg with a growl of pain as he managed to get on top of you, you caught his wrists as he attempted to plunge the knife in your throat, “I’ll enjoy watching the life leave your eyes. I’ll be sure to bring your head back for your little husband to see one last time.”

Your strength was already failing as you winced out, the knife slowly coming closer to your skin as you whimpered out as it pierced the first layer of your flesh.

It was an indescrible pain that had you yelping in pain,

“I’ll make these last few moments the most excruciating and perhaps if you beg me enough, I might just end your pathetic little life girl,” Di Jin grinned leaning in closer, “Maybe if you beg me more i’ll give you a little more than just a long death.”

He pushed the knife a little deeper as blood spilled from your skin making you cry out, his body weighing heavier on yours and his lips suddenly pressing to your ear, “Something tells me you’d prefer that over this.”

Something about his lips pressing against your skin lit something primal inside of you, every sense heightened inside you as your lips parted taking a wide bite into his neck, you could taste it first, the metallic flavor of blood running across your tongue and dripping down your throat and then his skin was next, uncomfortably soft and tender and next was the cartilage, it was rubbery and had hard bits in it, next was the sensation of something warm and wet against your face.

Di Jin could no longer properly speak, his grip suddenly loosened on the knife as you yanked the large chunk of flesh straight from his neck, grabbing the knife as you yanked it away shoving him down as you managed to get on top of him.

The chunk missing from his neck was ghastly, blood pooling on the ground, oozing everywhere and squirting from various places and he was gagging loudly, choking on his own blood.

Anger trembled in your body, it wasn’t enough, even with chunks of flesh missing and blood covering your face, skin hanging and cartilage visible it still wasn’t enough, before you could even think you plunged the knife into his neck, eyes blurring as you watched him gurgle, choking on his own blood as the life left his eyes.

Your hands were shaking as you waited for him to jump back to life to kill you, and then you slowly realized your vision was blurred from tears, your heart pounding as you took a shaky breath yanking the knife out of his neck before you let out blood curdling scream slamming it back in his neck again.

Jungkook’s betrayal.

Wheein being taken.

Exiled from your own kingdom.

Being forced to wed.

Made into a healer as a child.

Bone.

Blood.

Ash.

The mourning bells rang in your head and you could vividly taste the metallic on your tongue stronger than ever as the taste of raw flesh lingered in your throat.

Blood splattered upward as you stabbed the spot over again, all of the rage searing in your veins as Di Jin’s form became disfigured, his neck nearly separating his head from his body as you shoved the knife in deeper.

Hearing the wet gurgling noise as you heaved a breath, staring at his cold dead eyes staring back at you, the next scream was not your own, but it came closer within seconds before the door to the estate opened.

Seohyun was heavily bleeding from her left thigh, sporting a large bite as a loud snarl came from inside the door, shakily you stood up, “Fenrir, wait.”

The large wolf paused, and that's when you noticed the large gash on his leg, causing him to limp, rage quelled in your veins again as you limped over, Seohyun looked pale a ghost at the sight of you.

From the moment this woman met you, she had given you nothing but grief, attempted to humiliate you, belittle you, try to win a lost battle, attempt to kill you, and now she had hurt your precious companion.

Even with a mangled body behind you, it still wasn’t enough.

Tripping over her own two feet she fell down as you walked over, “We can talk about this Y/n!” Her eyes were as big as saucers, “Please! I’ll leave Penumbra and- and never come back.”

You felt nothing for her as you stood above her, watching pathetic tears drip down her face for a long moment, finally you knelt down, “If Penumbra has taught me anything Seohyun, It’s that some people do not deserve my forgiveness, nor my kindness.”

Her lips parted rapidly, her throat scratchy, and for the first time, you saw genuine fear in her eyes, “B-but you’re a Eunoian,”

Her words were pointed, bargaining, pleading even- if you listened close enough, “Eunoian’s don’t kill.”

Your lips slowly lifted into a joyless smile as you let out an uneasy laugh, “Well,” Your smile dropped, your hands were still shaky, unbridled rage still taunt in your veins.

The primal urge of need to prove her wrong, prove all of them wrong, that you would never again be looked down upon as weak or underestimated.

Your hand grabbed her neck, causing her to let out a choked sob as you squeezed it tight enough to choke her airway, yanking her nearly nose to nose with you.

“We’re not in Eunoia, are we?” Your nails dug into her neck, not stopping until you felt the blood from her skin oozing, you shoved her back before you stood up, ignoring her blubbering, tears trickling down her face as you walked away, “Fenrir.”

“Please!”

He let out a growl, “Attack.”

Her cries of agony were left of deaf ears as you walked back over to the corpse of Di Jin grabbing the knife from his neck and yanking it out before taking the sheath that went with it, adjusting it on your waist.

Collapsing on the ground away from him you noticed your hands for the first time, shaking, trembling as your vision blurred once more, scarred and covered in blood, just what had you done?

Fenrir’s mouth was covered in blood, but the whine didn’t escape your ears as he tenderly tried to sit down in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You ushered, grief strong in your voice though uncertain of who it was for, yourself, your country, your companion, you reached out for him, gently rubbing your hand down his neck, “But we have a long journey ahead of us Fenrir.”

The bells were ringing and a somber air had taken over, Jungkook had nearly lost his entire wits, his father had banished him from the room, not wanting to hear another word from him about this.

Being told he was too sentimental fell on deaf ears, he didn’t care, it was his friend, it was injustice, it was corrupt. He hated it, he hated that despite being the crowned prince, his son, his father simply didn’t care.

All Jungkook could do was wait for Jimin to unlock this damn box. But it felt as though it was too late, he was banned from so much as leaving his room, guards at his door there to keep him boxed in but this wouldn’t stop him.

pulling the cloak over his head, he opened the window, the bricks were jagged and uneven enough that he could easily climb down, he did it often when he was younger, much to the blindness of his father.

Scaling the wall, Jungkook got down, feet planted firmly on the ground as he kept the hood over his head tight as he made his way to the courtyard. A crowd had gathered, all wanting to witness the supposed assassin.

Nobody paid mind to him with his identity concealed, it would be soon now. If he couldn’t get evidence to get Wheein out, then Jungkook would take matters into his own hand. He didn’t want to have Wheein leave Penumbra, but if this is what it took to keep her safe until her innocence was proven, this is what he would do.

He owed so much of his existence to her, he couldn’t let this happen.

He wasn’t going to let this happen.

The bells stopped as Dae Seong stood up from his throne on the wooden stage they had set up, “We have all gathered here to see the execution of the assassin who tried to kill our crowned princess! Her very own handmaid, this is the killer, our own flesh and blood, and the punishment for a traitorous woman is fitting, burning of the steak!”

Wheein was brought out, her hands tied behind her back, her eyes had dark circles and she was crying as she shook her head, “Please! I would never do that to Penumbra! To Y/n! Please you have to believe me!”

But her cries were in vein as the crowd boo’d her, all shouting vile words her way as they dragged her down to the large wooden steak pyre that had been set up.

Jungkook shifted in his spot as he watched them begin to tie her up.

“Are there any last words you would like to impart to us traitor?” Dae Seong looked at her with pure disgust.

Wheein’s lips quivered as she parted them.

A loud bloodcurdling scream interrupted her before she could speak, the crowd tensed and everyone seemed alert, Jungkook was towards the front, having intended on getting her off there the right moment, but he quickly turned around to see people quickly departing and creating a path.

And the next thing he saw was hardly comprehensible.

You, covered in blood, your face was a horrific sight with it’s dried crimson color covering your mouth all the way down your neck, but what was even more horrifying was what was next to you, Fenrir limping beside you, a corpse held in his mouth.

Women screamed and men gasped in horror as they all moved.

The looks on the royals faces were indescribable, Dae Seong most of all, “What is the meaning of this?”

You stopped in front of the throne, Fenrir as if knowing this was the destination, dropped the body from his jaws, it smacked the ground with a wet echo, the head finally detaching from the body as it rolled towards Dae Seong.

You don’t think you had ever seen an expression quite like what Dae Seong had, and you were sure this would be the only time.

It was silent for a long moment before you finally spoke, your throat raw and scratchy, “That’s your assassin, he tried to kill me again just hours ago.”

Dae Seong’s look of shock slowly twisted into one of rage, “Where is your proof of this!” He stood up from his throne towering over you with a growl, “What does a girl like you have meddling in business you don’t understand and taking the lives of those who were helping!”

“Am I standing in front of you not proof enough?” You snarled back, “From the moment I have come to this kingdom I have been nothing but disrespected, disregarded, used, and seen as nothing more than a tool to further someone’s agenda. And i’m sick of it.”

“Even when it comes to my own life, you stand in front of me questioning it!”

“Why I ought too!-”

“I have it!” A voice cried out, Jimin was running from the side entrance of the courtyard, a notebook in his hand as he panted, his eyes widening when they set on you, ‘Y/n!? Are you okay? I have it, I have proof that Di Jin was the assassin! Here, your majesty.”

Dae Seong snatched it with a certain level of venom as he looked through the book, but slowly as his eyes read through, an unreadable look took over his face.

Exhaustion began to take over, your body beginning to sway.

Dae Seong closed the book with a sense of finality, “Very well,” He aid with gritted teeth, anger still simmering in his eyes, “Perhaps, you do have the grit to survive here princess.”

You didn’t hear his words though, your gaze had went down to the body of Di Jin, and swaying backwards you collapsed into an abyss of darkness, nothing more then multiple people calling your name.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader smut #prince!jungkook #bts au #Jungkook imagine

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slaybestieslay946 · 9 months ago

Note

Luke Castellan and Persephone!Child (I know she doesn’t canonically have Demi-god kids but I feel like it fits well) with a story similar to Eurydice and Orpheus’s sad tale.

thank you so much for your request, it acc ties in really well to a fic idea ive had for a while, so i was so excited to see this in my inbox!!

Circle

MASTERLIST

word count: 1800

pairing: luke castellan x persephone!reader

warnings: death, minor depictions of violence, angst

a/n: partly inspired by the request, partly by mitski's song 'circle' honestly i think it made this extra gut-wrenching. hope you all enjoy!

'Nobody knows my lover, is buried underground.'

When Luke Castellan received his quest, everyone knew who he would pick to take with him.

Immediately, he turned to you, flashing you a bright grin, and beckoning you towards him. You laughed, wading through the crowd to your lover, smiling brightly all the way.

The rest of camp half blood rolled their eyes fondly at the pair of you, and just how disgustingly in love you were.

It had been like this ever since you arrived at camp half blood, mere months after Luke himself.

You’d been escorted to the Hermes cabin by one of the older campers, and sat down on a bunk bed. You had looked around the place, lost, confused, and homesick.

And then a boy stepped up to you, asking how you were, what your name was. And gods, even at the age of 14, you knew he was the most beautiful person you’d ever seen. Luke thought the same about you.

He was so drawn to you, he couldn’t stay away.

Now, even 4 years later, nothing had changed.

He was openly enraptured by you, just as Hades was with your mother. He was never seen without you by his side, so of course he’d pick you to bring on his first quest.

A few days later, you set off, Luke’s half-brother, Chris Rodriguez in tow. Everything started off well, you’d managed to locate someone to tell you where the Garden of Hesperides was, in order to retrieve the golden apple that you had been sent for.

On the way there, you hardly encountered any monsters. You lived comfortably, even if you slept in motels every night, and dined on gas station food.

It all went downhill when you finally reached the garden.

You and Chris stood guard whilst Luke stepped towards the tree, no sword in his hand. You kept your spear gripped tightly in your hand, should he awake the dragon sleeping at his feet.

He eventually reached the foot of the tree, taking a deep breath before reaching up into the branches, and trying to snag one of the apples. Meanwhile, you didn’t take your eyes off the dragon, watching it for any sign of movement.

And when it finally opened its dark eye, looking up at Luke, you ran forward, sprinting towards it with your spear outstretched to stab it.

But you weren’t fast enough, and it turned, slashing a talon across your chest, and sending you collapsing onto the ground, blood soaking into your shirt.

Luke darted towards you and in his rush, he wasn’t able to avoid the sharp tail of the dragon whipping across his face, leaving a fine cut all the way down it.

He ignored the biting pain, barely able to register it when all he could see was you, lying on the floor, a pool of blood encircling you.

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, patting your cheek gently, cradling your body to his chest, “You’re gonna be alright, yeah? Just open your eyes for me baby.”

You struggled to do as he asked, looking up at your lover with confused eyes.

“You-” You coughed, “You have to go. It’s over for me. Gonna go see mom.”

“No, no. Gotta stay with me. We can get through this.” He cried, brushing his thumbs across your face.

“I- I- I love y-you. W-we’ll s-see each other ag-gain.” You did your best to smile, and while all you wanted to do was reach up and hold his face, you found you didn’t have the strength to do so.

He continued to cry and beg you to come back, but it was all for nothing, you’d gone silent, and your eyes were all still.

And then vines began to wrap around your body, pulling you into the earth, down towards Persephone, your mother.

Luke kept crying as they took you away from him, leaving nothing but your camp necklace behind.

“Hey, man, we gotta go.” He heard Chris call, and he whipped his head around to berate him, until he saw his half-brother was currently in combat with the dragon that had killed you.

He was right, they had to go.

He scooped your camp necklace off of the ground, and ran towards his brother, who detached from his fight with the dragon to run away from the garden. Luke followed after him, tears streaming down his face the whole way.

When Luke got back to camp, he was different. Numb.

Annabeth ran up to him when they descended the hill, a bright smile on her face at her older brother's return. It faded slightly when she saw you weren’t right beside him.

“Where’s Y/N?” She asked, looking around as if you’d pop out from nowhere.

“Gone.” Was all Luke could manage to say, pulling his little sister in for a hug he so desperately needed, confirmation that at least she was still here.

For the next few months, he barely left the Hermes cabin, only ever going down to the amphitheatre in the early hours of the morning, where he could be seen slashing recklessly at wooden dummies left right and centre.

He didn’t know how to live without you. He always thought you’d be with him forever. He had this vision that together you would grow old, and would die while sitting on some front porch, holding hands as you went at the same moment.

Now he realised that it was a pipedream. You were demigods, it was never going to work out like that.

But he couldn’t go on living like this. He didn’t want to wake up in the morning if you weren’t beside him. So he formed his plan, to go down to the underworld and retrieve you himself.

His father was the god of travellers, and your mother was the queen of the underworld. It could work.

So he travelled to the entrance to the underworld, your camp necklace in his hands, and prayed. First to your mother, asking for an audience, and second to his father, asking for use of his access to the underworld. It was the first time he had ever asked Hermes for anything, and if this worked, it would probably be the last. He’d never want for anything again if it meant you were with him again.

And it did work. The gate opened to him, a long staircase down into the darkness. Luke descended quickly; he didn’t want to keep Persephone, or you for that matter, waiting.

He soon found himself pushing through crowds of lost souls, keeping a look out for you, but you were nowhere in sight. He then turned his attention back to reaching Persephone’s throne, breathing a sigh of relief as he finally found himself at the foot of it, looking up at the goddess herself.

“You requested an audience with me, Mr Castellan. I hope this is not about my daughter.” Persephone said sternly, looking down at the demigod, her fears confirmed when she saw the string of beads clutched in his hands.

“It is, but-”

“There’s no buts. I can’t do anything about your predicament. It is not within my jurisdiction.” She declared, her voice growing regretful, “My daughter is in Elysium, and that’s where she must stay.”

“My lady, I understand that this is difficult for you. But we both know Y/N… died before her time. She would want to come back. She deserves to have a life.”

“And you would give that to her?”

“Yes.”

“And you would protect her, better than I can?”

Luke gulped, “Just as well.”

The goddess sighed, and muttered, almost to herself, “We have had this problem before, persuasive mortals and their tales of love. Let’s see if you can fare any better, Luke Castellan.”

“I will release my only daughter from the underworld, on one condition. As you lead her back into the world of the living, you mustn’t look back at her. She will be following you, trust me on that, demigod.”

“And if I do? Look back?”

“Then you will never see her again. Not in your world, nor mine,” She looked down at him once again, a sad look in her eyes, “Now go, exit through the fields of asphodel, she will follow you from there.”

Luke nodded firmly, and turned back around, returning the way he came, smiling more brightly than he had in months.

He was going to see his Y/N again, all he had to do was not look back at her, how difficult could that be?

He pushed his way back through the fields of asphodel, keeping a tight hold of her camp beads. As soon as they reached the surface, he would string them around her neck again. He’d be able to hold her face in his palms, to kiss her, to hug her. Everything would be alright again.

As he returned to the staircase, he felt a rush of wind behind him. It had to be her. Then, to confirm his suspicions, he heard soft footsteps on the stone staircase. Luke smiled to himself once again, wishing so desperately that he could greet her, but not wanting to break Persephone’s rules.

He continued up the staircase for what felt like hours, it was definitely taking him a lot longer this time. The thing that kept him going was your footsteps behind him, a reminder that you were still there, following after him.

Until they stopped, right as he became able to see the light coming from the living world above him.

He paused for a moment, listening out for you. But he couldn’t hear anything besides his panting breaths and the odd screech of a harpy.

Luke began to grow worried, a pit forming in his stomach, but he kept climbing the stairs. Persephone told him you’d be following, she wouldn’t lie, would she?

Or maybe it was all some elaborate joke. Fortune hadn’t been on his side recently.

Maybe he should check. Just a peek, it couldn’t hurt, could it? What was so wrong about him looking back anyway, why shouldn’t he want to see his lover, the girl he would do anything for?

So he did. He turned, to look over his shoulder.

And of course, you were right behind him, just like your mother said you would.

At first you looked joyful to see him, and then your face fell in horror as you realised what he had done. You reached out to touch him, to hold on, but you couldn’t quite reach. And then you felt yourself being pulled back, away from him.

Luke watched on in horror as you fell back into the abyss.

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #fanfic #pjo #luke castellan #x reader #angst #mitski #mitski circle #mitski lyrics

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headkiss · 2 years ago

Text

do you think i have forgotten?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you loved steve harrington years ago, and he loved you. now, coming back to hawkins, you find that things may not be so different.

word count: 14.1k

warnings: fluff, smut, a little angst, exes to lovers, very much idiots in love!

a/n: here it is!!! i hope u guys like it!!! it took a while but hopefully it was worth it <3

༄

A ‘welcome home’ banner hangs lopsided on the wall.

The party is smaller than the ones you’d become accustomed to at school. That didn’t matter. What did was that your favorite people were around for this one.

It was meant to be a surprise, but Nancy gave you a heads up. She knows you hate surprises, you just don’t have the heart to tell Robin, who absolutely loves surprise parties. Planning them, to be exact. So, you acted shocked, put on your biggest smile.

It was worth it for the beaming grin on your friend’s face, the tight hug as a hello.

You didn’t realize how much you missed home until now. Until you came back.

Small talk isn’t so tiring when it’s with people you really care about. Eddie and Jonathan, Nancy and Robin, even the kids are there to give you the warmest welcome you could ever have. Hugs from some of them, teasing from all of them.

It’s perfect, but there’s an obvious absence. One you’ve tried and tried not to think about. But here, in this room, with these people, you can tell that without him, there’s a space waiting to be filled.

That space has been left open in your life for years. A gaping hole. Then, when the night’s half over and you’re convinced you won’t see him, you hear one word that has memories rushing back to you. Like a flood.

“Ace.”

There’s only one person in the entire world who calls you that. Steve Harrington.

The nickname isn’t the only thing that gives him away. His voice is engraved in your head, the tone, the way it hits your ears. It’s been years since you last heard it, and still, it feels so, so familiar.

You met in high school. Gym class, actually, and you’d been deemed Ace ever since. By him.

It started with friendship, reluctant at first and then impossibly close. It grew into the kind of undeniable thing that pushed you together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. In love.

He was really, really good to you. So good that you didn’t care about who his friends were or what his reputation was. You didn’t care when things changed and he went from King Steve to the best babysitter around. Over a year, you were together.

Then, he was gone.

When you told him you’d be going away for school, he was supportive, happy for you, even. Then, the day before you were set to move he sat you down and broke your heart. I can't be with you anymore, he said.

Not I don’t want to, or I won’t. Can’t. Like he had no other choice.

To this day, you’re not sure why he did it. You called over and over for weeks when you first got to school. He never picked up. You were only able to check on him through your mutual friends. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, all of them.

One day, he was the greatest thing in your life, the next, he’d completely disappeared from it. Like a ghost.

You pushed yourself through school, tried to let go of him. It got easier, but the pinch in your chest when you thought about him never quite went away. You tried being with other guys again, but nothing stuck. It felt like you were cheating, like you could never fully commit to someone else. Your mind, body, and soul still belonged to him.

It got easier eventually. You can’t remember when it did, but over time, thinking of Steve became less like a stab to the chest, and more of a pinch.

When you spoke to your friends, they’d mention him briefly. In passing, like they didn’t want to hurt you with something as simple as a name. You knew he was working at Family Video with Robin, you knew his parents were around even less than they used to be, and you knew he went on dates. Often.

Steve spent every year of you being away trying to convince himself that he did the right thing.

He missed you constantly, but he felt like he’d be holding you back if he stayed with you. A distraction from your college experience, a boyfriend who couldn’t even make it to college himself. Not enough for you.

Now, seeing you at the welcome home party Robin put together, he feels like the biggest idiot in the world. Universe, even. Because how could he have let go of someone that lights up the room like a ray of fucking sunshine.

It’s pathetic that all he could say to you after all the years was his nickname for you.

You turn around after hearing it, the sight of Steve a punch in the gut. He’s just as pretty, if not more, and though he mostly looks the same, he’s grown in ways you weren’t there to see. He’s almost a stranger now.

“Steve,” you manage. “You’re here.”

“Hi.”

It took a lot of convincing from the gang for him to come. Not because he didn’t want to (he wanted to see you more than anything), but because he didn’t want to do anything to make you upset.

Your haircut is different than before, and you hold yourself in a new way, too. But, as soon as he finds your eyes he feels like he’s in high school again, laying in his bed facing you or laughing at the back of the movie theater.

He thinks of the last time he saw you, the tears leaving trails down your cheeks, the way you didn’t let yourself sob until he walked out. His stomach is in knots.

“Hi,” you hold yourself back from reaching out and poking him to make sure he’s real. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Well, surprise,” he sings the second word and throws up some awkward jazz hands. A glimpse of the dork you remember.

Surprise indeed.

“I can leave,” he offers in your silence. He even turns to do so before you stop him.

“No! No, it’s just- it’s been a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. It’s too late for that, and as much as you want to know what happened, why he ended things and just… vanished, you aren’t so stuck on that anymore. Four years is a long time.

You aren’t mad about it, it just never fully left your head.

“How was school?” He asks. Safe, easy.

“Well, I graduated. So, that’s something.”

A wink of a smile has the corners of his mouth twitching up. You’re different, but you’re also the same girl he knew. It’s nice to see again, to have hope that he didn’t destroy you.

“I knew you would,” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to feeling so awkward around you. “You can write your own essays, after all.”

That one makes you huff a laugh, makes you think back to late nights spent helping him fix up his writing. Red pen doodles and way too many distractions.

“One of my many talents,” you say.

There’s another pause, a stillness that feels so wrong for the both of you. He put the distance there, and he hates himself for it. “I’ll be seeing you around then?”

“Yeah, Steve. I’m home.”

Yes, he thinks. You are home. Hawkins was missing something without you in it. Or maybe that was just him. Missing something without you.

Just as you’re pulled away into a conversation with Robin and Max, Steve grasps your wrist gently. Your skin burns with the familiarity of his touch. Aches with the memory.

“It’s good to see you, Ace.”

Then, in a blink, he lets you go.

When you turn away, Eddie comes up beside Steve, claps a hand on his back. “Nice, man. Not weird at all.”

“Shut it, Munson.”

Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. He searches for you when he hears you laugh, can feel his pulse jump when you throw your head back the way you always have. He lets his eyes linger when he knows he shouldn’t.

You catch him once. You can feel his stare on you like a breeze, tickling the back of your neck. When you turn towards him your eyes lock, just for a moment.

Hawkins is mostly the same. The stores on Main Street still have worn awnings, letters faded and colors dimmed. The arcade sign still flickers, Enzo’s is still the best restaurant. The movies where Steve used to take you on dates, his house with his BMW in the driveway.

It’s hard to be back and not let Steve bleed into everything.

At school, it was easy not to think about him. You’d bury yourself in studying and projects. Here, he’s everywhere you look. The town is painted with memories of you and him. He’s written all over the place.

You thought you were over what happened, that you could come home and not let it phase you. You had no idea it’d be like this.

Despite it all, you’re glad to be home. You like waking up to the peacefulness of light wind and leaves rustling. It’s a lot nicer than a dorm building full of students and the constant noise of the city.

You’re tremendously happy to be so close to your friends again, too. There’s no more worrying about whether or not you’ll see them anytime soon, no more sporadic phone calls that just make you miss them more.

But still, there’s that empty space. Steve-shaped.

The next time you see him you’d decided to visit Robin at work. It took you about a week of being home to get yourself to go into Family Video, knowing Steve works there. You have to get used to him again.

Sure enough, when you walked in, there he stood. Green vest and all.

When the bell above the door jingles to signal your entrance, Steve turns to look at you. He sets down the box of stock he’d been holding, and your eyes follow the way his arms flex before you can tell them not to.

“Ace, hi.”

“Hey,” you send a short wave his way, rocking on your feet. “I’m just meeting Robin for lunch.”

He probably knows that, but you say it anyway, trying to fill the void of silence that hums between you.

“Yeah. She’s in the back already,” he says. “I can show you.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He almost places a hand at the small of your back to guide you, just like he used to. It’d be so natural, so simple. Instead, he clenches his fist by his side and shuffles in front of you, nodding his head for you to

follow.

“So, um,” he stops in front of the door to the back, turning to face you. “We still do movie nights. All of

us, like we used to. You should come.”

“Are you sure?”

Movie nights are always at Steve’s, and you don’t want to be there if it’ll cause any problems, as much as you’ve missed the sense of tradition. Routine.

“There’s an open spot on the couch for you anyway. Always has been.”

When you were away, you worried your friends would replace you. Forget about you, even. That clearly wasn’t the case.

“I’d love to go. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“As long as you still don’t mind Eddie talking through the important parts.”

You shake your head, a small, close-mouthed smile on your face.

“Wouldn’t be a movie night without it.”

The bell above the door rings again, and Steve turns to see the customer. “I should get back.”

You nod. You watch him go, watch him greet the woman who walked in with his classic smile.

You just have to get used to him again, that’s all.

Walking the steps up to the Harrington’s front door is something you’ve done time and time again. So, it shouldn’t feel so odd, really.

It used to be an almost daily occurrence. Now, it takes you some mental preparation before you can bring yourself to knock on the door. This time, it isn’t Steve who answers, it’s Robin. You’re grateful for it, because stepping into his house again is already a bunch to take in.

“You came!” She says, grinning.

“Of course I did. I missed movie nights a bunch.”

You really, really did.

While you had a couple of friends in Indianapolis, the connections were shallow. Especially compared to what you have here. There, they were friendships formed from convenience. Roommates or project partners. It was a lot lonelier than you let on.

“We missed you, too.” Robin walks you into the living room, where cheers of your name ensue.

“Look who it is,” Eddie speaks from where he sits on the ground in front of the TV, setting things up.

There’s a shift from the loud, giddy greetings when Steve walks into the room, bowl of popcorn in hand. It’s like everyone’s waiting for one of you to burst.

“Hey. You made it,” Steve says. No bursting, just some sort of tension that hasn’t gone away since you saw him at your party.

“Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Surprised one of them didn’t beat me to it,” he nods at your friends that are scattered across the couches. Your friends whose eyes are ping-ponging between you both.

It’s almost like you can feel everyone take a breath of relief when you plant yourself by the armrest of the sofa. When you shoot Steve a small, barely-there smile. A peace offering.

Halfway through the movie—broken up by constant Eddie commentary, and various ways of someone telling him to stuff it—Steve notices the way you’re curled up, cardigan pulled tight over your body.

He reaches across Robin to hand you a blanket wordlessly. She nudges his shoulder when you aren’t looking, gives him a look that tells him she knows something, even if he doesn’t.

He’s always been attentive, but you’re surprised when the soft fabric is passed over. You wonder if he realizes it’s the blanket you’d always reach for when you were over. If he realizes he handed you the one you’d cuddled him under countless times.

He doesn’t, you’re sure. Why on earth would he remember those things? Or even care?

After that night, the group slowly becomes whole again. The others stop planning separate things with you or Steve. It’s like they waited for you to get acclimated to being around each other again, tested the waters.

It’s as sweet as it is sad. You never wanted to mess anything up, make anything harder.

Though you see Steve a lot more often, your interactions with him remain short and distant. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to feeling so far away from him.

While you were away, over time, the memories became less vivid, as did the pictures that still sit in your bedroom at home. Sun damaged and faded. Your feelings, though, they never really dimmed, only pushed to the back of your mind and shoved into a box labeled Steve.

That box has been bursting at the seams.

Still, you try to keep it shut, to push it all aside and be friends with him again. Or, friendly, at the very least.

Steve keeps a framed picture of you in a drawer in his bedside table. Maybe that’s weird. It used to sit atop of the table, but he moved it when it got too hard to look at your face without thinking of how it looked when you cried.

Having you around again is hard, but it’s more so a relief. He’s missed you so, so much, and even though things aren’t the same and they might never be again, he’ll take you in his life any way he can have you. And this is a start.

The hardest part, he thinks, is burying all the things he never got to say. I’m sorry, I just wanted what was best for you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s no use now, he knows that, so he swallows the words down. They make his stomach ache.

He needs to distract himself from it all, because it’s too much. Seeing your face almost every day again, not being able to reach out and hold it like he used to.

It’s way too much.

You got a job at Enzo’s to keep yourself busy.

While you’d love to stay buried in your bed all day, or walk around aimlessly until you end up at Lover’s Lake, sitting by the water and listening to it move, your parents decided it’d be better for you to do something valuable with your time.

Besides, waitressing isn’t so bad. You mostly work nights, allowing you the sleep-ins you love so much, there’s not so much pressure when you already know most of the people you serve, and the tips are always nice.

It’s mostly a breeze—besides a spill incident—until Steve shows up there on a date. Seated in your section.

Your coworker had warned you, “new table for you. Looks like a date.” And there he was. His hair done like always (does he still use Farrah Fawcett spray?) and his dress shirt a little wrinkled.

When it’s time to head over, you shut your eyes and take a grounding breath, slap on your customer service smile. You introduce yourself like you always do, the ‘I’ll be your waitress for this evening’ spiel.

Steve looks up from the menu as soon as he hears your voice. He’s stunned, eyes wide and mouth ever-so-slightly agape while he looks at you. He tries to recover quickly. If he’d known you were working tonight he never would have brought his date here, never would have subjected you to that on purpose. He feels like shit.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” You say. Waitress persona engaged, praying your face doesn’t look forced.

She orders first. Her voice is sweet, and she’s pretty. Why'd she have to be so pretty?

“Just water for me. Thanks, Ace,” Steve says, letting the nickname slip. It’s like he can’t hold it in around you.

“‘Course.” You turn quickly to get their drinks.

“Ace?” Steve’s date, Becky, asks.

“We’re friends. From school. Just a nickname.”

He simplifies it. There’s no point in telling the whole story. It’s over—he’s had to remind himself of that constantly—and it’s his fault. Not the type of thing he needs to share on a first date, that’s for sure.

“Oh, okay. So, what are you getting?” Somehow, she accepts the answer easily.

You shouldn’t feel so shaken by this. Really, you shouldn’t. You were with Steve ages ago, and it’s been over. You don’t have any sort of claim over him anymore. None.

So why is your stomach twisting every time you catch him smiling at something she says?

All you know is that it won’t do you any good to think about that too much. You busy yourself with getting their drinks instead. You approach the table carefully, not wanting to spill anything.

“For you,” you set her drink down. She thanks you. She’s nice, too. “And, water for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys ready to order, or do you need a couple more minutes?”

It’s like you’re on autopilot, repeating the same phrases you do to every single table, hoping that it comes out sounding natural.

“I think we’re good,” Steve says, gesturing for his date to go first.

He almost feels like he should apologize to you. Then again, maybe he’s reading into things too far. As much as he feels like he can tell when you’re uncomfortable, when your smile is forced, he has no idea if your habits are the same as they used to be.

You’re cautious not to let your hands touch when you collect the menu from Steve.

The rest of their dinner is much the same, and you’re grateful any time you can distract yourself with a different table. Your actions are stiff, your words practically robotic.

Still, before he leaves, Steve leaves you a tip and a scrawled note on a crumpled receipt: ‘Thank you. Sorry for the ambush. -Steve.’

You still have notes from him, in that same, charmingly messy handwriting, buried in a shoebox in your closet. Notes you didn’t have time to get rid of in your rush to move. Notes you should probably get rid of.

Not only did he leave you a note, he was outside waiting for you when your shift was over.

He wasn’t going to wait. He was going to leave it at the note and hope that you weren’t bothered as much as he thought you might be. Maybe it was stupid to think you’d be affected by him being with someone else in front of you after all this time, but he couldn’t ignore the instinct he got when he saw the look on your face. The guilt he felt.

He catches you as you walk out the door, startling you a bit, “Ace, wait up.”

“God, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to your car. He’d parked two spots over. “Actually, I just wanted to say that. Sorry, I mean.”

“You already said that,” he tilts his head, a question. “On your note.”

“I didn’t want you to think I did that on purpose. I didn’t know you worked at Enzo’s until tonight, actually.”

“I haven’t been for long,” you amend. “I’m not upset with you, Steve.”

The words hold a lot more meaning than you expected. You really aren’t upset with him, not over tonight, and not over what happened years ago. You’re more upset with yourself for letting it get to you even now.

“Good. That’s- I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words are heavy, too. You’re too tired to hold the weight.

“What about your date?” You stop next to your car. He stops, too.

“I drove her home already. Came back after.”

Really, he was halfway home after dropping off Becky, but he couldn’t shake his worry that he’d caused even more strain on your relationship. He turned around without a second thought.

“She seems nice,” you say.

“Yeah,” he looks around the parking lot, stares at the streetlight for a second. “So, we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you confirm.

You can’t help but hope that saying it out loud will make things feel better with him. That maybe, you could be some sort of friends again.

He nods, “okay. Sorry again,” he searches for his keys in his pocket, “have a good night, Ace.”

He walks the short distance to his car while you fumble to unlock yours. Climbing in and shutting the door, you let your head fall against the steering wheel, forehead pressed to it.

What a night.

Steve’s seen Becky a few times since the date at Enzo’s.

She is nice, and he does like her, but he hasn’t been able to let her kiss him anywhere other than the cheek. So far, she hasn’t said anything, but he knows that he won’t be able to dodge her without question for much longer.

When you were gone, though it took time, he was able to be with other people. It never lasted long, and he rarely went through with things without thinking of you at least once. He can’t even give someone a peck on the mouth.

It’s like as soon as he thinks he can lean in and do it, his mind is all Ace Ace Ace, and he finds he can’t.

He’s trying his best to ignore it, to hope that in getting used to you being back, he’ll get used to not being with you, too. So far, it hasn’t been working very well. He dreams more often than not, and even in sleep, he can’t seem to escape your face.

Instead of digging into whatever mess he’s sure that’ll cause, he’s been seeing Becky.

It’s unfair, he knows it is. To her and to you, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He isn’t thinking straight because you’ve rushed back into his life so quickly he can’t catch up. He’s trying to bury the feelings he has for you by focusing on someone else.

Though, maybe focusing isn’t the right word, because his mind still wanders to you. A bunch.

He’s confused and he’s scared and he misses you. He doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s pushing to the surface once again now that you’re home, and he doesn’t want to because he’s afraid of what it’s sure to become. What might’ve never even left.

He misses you but he can’t do anything about that. So, Becky it is.

The breeze tickles your cheeks as you make your way through the trailer park in search of any of your friends.

Somehow, Eddie and his band managed to make their own gig out by the picnic tables, and, of course, he’d invited the group to come watch. When you first became friends with Eddie, he was reluctant to let you all in on his music. Now, though, he lets everyone know there’s a spot for them saved at every performance.

You follow the noise, finding where a small crowd of people has formed by the tables that have been pushed together to serve as a stage. Probably an unsafe one, at that, but it’s Eddie. He cheers when he spots you from where he stands on the middle table.

“She’s here!”

“Can't miss the first show I’m back for, can I?”

“The rockstar would not have that,” Robin says, giving you a quick side hug.

“Thank you for calling me a rockstar,” Eddie replies.

You say your hellos to the others, Nancy, sitting on the bench attached to the table Eddie’s stood on, Jonathan, fiddling with his camera.

“Is Steve not coming?” You ask. Hopefully in a casual way.

“No, he is,” Nancy says.

“Likes to be fashionably late,” is what Robin has to say.

You nod, turning your attention to Eddie, “so, how many of these songs are new?”

“To these fools, none,” he points lazily around the group. “To you, all of them.” He smiles, and it makes you smile, too. You’ve missed being able to support him in person.

“Can’t wait to hear them, then.”

“Dingus!” Robin yells happily.

You know she’s talking about Steve. You turn around to find him. Probably too quickly.

“Hey guys,” he waves. It’s then you notice that he’s not alone. His date that he took to Enzo’s is with him. She waves, too, her arm curled around Steve’s. “This is Becky.”

She’s met with polite greetings. Your mouth, for some reason, stays shut.

Robin comes to stand beside you. She looks at your expression, the shock that you shake your head to clear, the tiniest bit of hurt that lingers in your eyes. You look at her, and she raises her eyebrows at you, are you okay? It’s silent, but you know it’s what she’s asking.

Isn’t that a question. You don’t know why your stomach sinks when you see her with him. Again. Well, maybe you do know, you just don’t want to accept it. The feelings you’d had for Steve were meant to be long, long gone.

Only, since being home, you’ve realized they aren’t.

Even though things with Steve have been far from the same as before, even as when you were friends, he’s still Steve. He’s the kind boy you knew, only older. He still cares about the kids the way an older sibling would, he still puts his friends before anything, and he’s still the greatest person you know.

You simply shrug at Robin.

Then, Becky’s in front of you, “we already met, right?”

“Yeah, um, hi.”

“Hi. It’s nice to at least have a familiar face here.”

God, you want to dislike her so bad, but you really can’t. She’s kind, and she’s clearly making an effort to make a good impression. It’s annoying.

Steve knows he probably shouldn’t have brought her with him, but she’s been asking to meet his friends so frequently and he figured that Eddie’s gig would be as good a time as ever. At least here, there’s a crowd to hide in.

He really does like Becky, just not in the way he’s supposed to. He thinks he might’ve spent all of those feelings on you, and there’s no way he’s getting them back.

Eddie jumps down from the table and pulls Steve aside, “what are you doing?”

“Dunno what you mean.” He does, actually. Only, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Come on, man. You can't tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you,” Eddie’s not talking about Becky. He’s talking about you.

“She doesn’t look at me. Not like that.”

“Sometimes you really are an idiot, you know? She looks at you like you put the fucking moon in the sky, all melty and shit.”

“She used to look at me like that. I fucked it up. That’s gone, okay?”

“Is it gone for you?” Eddie says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says. When he looks at you, however, it feels like it matters. A lot.

“Just saying. Think you might’ve brought the wrong lady.”

Steve already feels bad about what he’s trying to do with Becky. Seeing her to distract himself from you. He hates that even his friends are seeing through it. Is it really that obvious?

Eddie turns away to finish setting up with the band. Steve sees Becky talking to you of all people and he almost smacks himself right there. He’s so, so stupid. He walks over, into the mess he’s created.

“Hey, Ace,” he nods at you quickly, then turns to Becky. “Why don’t we go find a spot to sit?”

“We aren’t watching here?”

Steve looks between you and her quickly. Really, he’s just trying to save you from having to talk to her. He can still tell when you’re itching to get out of a conversation.

“Think the speakers might be too loud for you, babe.”

You miss whatever reply she gives him, stuck on his use of the word babe. The last time you heard it come from his mouth, he was saying it to you. It stings even though it shouldn’t.

It’s over. It’s been over. So why is it so hard to forget about it?

You never really got used to seeing Steve with Becky.

He didn’t bring her around often—maybe for your sake—but when he did, you’d find yourself keeping your distance. At least one person between you and them, like a buffer.

It felt like the progress you’d made with Steve, with not feeling so far away around him, was disappearing every time you saw her standing with him. You hated it, how you let things affect you.

A couple of weeks went on that way. Then, you got a phone call.

You’d been sitting on your bed, back against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing. The shrill ringing came from your bedside table, and you leaned over to pick it up mindlessly.

“Hello?”

“Ace.”

It’s Steve. He hasn’t called you since you’ve been back. His utterance of your nickname sounds like a breath of relief.

“Steve? What’s going on?”

“Can I come see you?”

“What?” You’re convinced you misheard him, or that something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, promise,” he pauses. “Well, I broke up with Becky. But I’m good, okay?”

He broke up with Becky? He broke up with Becky and decided to call you. You’re not quite sure what to do with that.

“You- did something happen?”

“No, no. Just- I’ll explain everything. Let me see you.”

It's hard to say no to him, and you can’t help but be worried. You say yes, a quiet word whispered into the phone.

“Thank you,” he says. “See you soon, Ace.”

“Bye.”

You barely get the word out before the sound of his phone being hung up echoes in your ear. It’s only then, in the silence of your room, that you notice your heart pounding, a heavy thump in your chest.

Steve knows it’s selfish to want to see you now, after he’s just broken up with someone. It’s the first actual breakup he’s had since being with you, and yet, he’s not even upset. He just wants to see you.

Sure, he liked Becky, but she could never really erase his thoughts of you. He felt awful about staying with her for the reasons he did. So, he broke it off.

Now, he's knocking on your window.

The tapping wouldn’t be so noticeable if you hadn’t been waiting for it. He never did like using the front door.

You open the window for him, move backwards a couple of steps to give him enough room to stumble inside, hair a little messy, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, devastatingly pretty.

It brings you back to high school. Steve, sneaking through your window at night just to fall asleep with you, his arms a safety net, his steady breathing a lullaby. Steve, peering at you through the glass with that grin of his. Steve.

“You know you can use the door, right?” You say.

“Not my style,” he takes a second to look at you. “Hi, Ace.”

You shift on your feet.

“Hi.”

“I know this is…” He trails off. There’s not really a single word for it. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You mean it. Even after everything, he’s Steve over it all. Your Steve, who was the greatest friend you ever had and, somehow, an even better boyfriend. He’s never been horrible to you; not even close.

Sure, he broke your heart and fell away from your life right after that, but you know him. You know there’s something he hasn’t told you about that, and if letting him in through your window again is a step closer to hearing it, you’re willing to take it.

“Even after what I did?”

“I don’t think you could ever really lose me, Steve.”

That hits him in the gut, a painful twist. Because he thought he did. Yes, he broke up with you (he regretted it very quickly), but he’d fought the urge to pick up the phone and call you at school more times than he can count.

“You’re a good person, Ace.”

He’s tiptoeing around whatever he wants to say to you. You talk softly, “why’d you want to see me?”

“I just needed to make sure you knew something.”

“What is it?”

“Just- I never kissed Becky. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it so plainly. There’s a wince on his face when he does. Small, but you catch it all the same.

“Robin said you were dating people, though.”

“Yeah, but I never kissed them. Ever. I couldn't.”

He slept with people—which was still hard—but to him, nothing feels as intimate as a kiss. He could never bring himself to cross that line with someone else. Not after how you would kiss him. The way everything else would melt away.

“I need you to know that. And I broke up with Becky because I couldn’t be with her without thinking of-” he stops, shakes his head, like he can’t get the words out. His eyes are holding onto yours when he says, “-someone else.”

“You climbed through my window just to tell me that?”

“I guess I did.”

He hadn’t thought about what comes next, what to do or say. Hell, he could barely even say what he meant in the first place. He wanted to say he’d been thinking of you, but the word got stuck in his throat. He hopes you can still read him enough to know what he meant.

“So, you were with Becky… why, exactly?”

“I thought- I don’t know. I thought I’d be able to push, um, someone else out of my mind if I was with her. I wasn’t, obviously.”

You’re practically speechless. Never would you have imagined that Steve was still thinking of you in any way, let alone so much so that he couldn’t fully give himself to anyone else.

Then again, you were never able to do that, either.

“I don’t know what to say,” you shrug, shoulder to your cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything, really,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You hate to be the one putting it there. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Steve. We aren’t together, I know that.”

He hasn’t been able to forget about that for a day. It’s like his life without you in it was a permanent winter. The snow never melting, the cold sinking into his bones. He hadn’t even realized it until you came back.

The wind picked up, frostbite ate away at him. Then, just like that, the sun was shining again. He hopes the snow will thaw soon.

He feels like an idiot right now. An idiot who can't spit out the right words and who can't leave you alone even when he knows he should.

“I should go.”

“Steve-”

“No, I’ll go. I’m sorry for dropping all of that on you.”

He’s turning his back to you, opening the window, worrying you all over again.

“You can stay.” Please, stay.

“I’m really sorry, Ace.”

Sorry for letting you go, sorry for disappearing, sorry for being a coward, sorry for fucking things up even now.

By the time you gather your wits enough to walk to the window, he’s crossing your lawn quickly. You watch him go until his figure fades into the night, the wind a low whisper in the air.

You do a lot of thinking that night, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. After what might be twenty minutes or two hours, you find you aren’t upset with Steve in the slightest. If anything, you’re worried.

And maybe, selfishly, a little hopeful, too.

It’s not even the breakup itself. It’s the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered and his frustration seemed to soften just a little when he looked at you. It’s the way he had to make sure you knew he hasn’t kissed anyone since you, that he called and came over just to tell you that.

Maybe you should be angry, but all you feel when you think about Steve is something you’d convinced yourself was long gone. A feeling with wings, fluttering.

You decide that you need to talk to him again.

That decision has you walking through the door of Family Video early the next day, when you’re sure it won’t be busy. You had to double check with Robin that Steve was the one opening (you could practically see her knowing smirk through the phone), and sure enough, he stands behind the counter.

The bell above the door jingles, cutting through the silence of the store. Steve glances up to find you, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure you’re really there.

“Am I dreaming?” He says.

Steve was convinced you’d never want to see his face again after the shit he pulled last night. After dumping information on you that you hadn’t asked for, then leaving as soon as he got scared.

“If you are, so am I.”

“Robin’s not here.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to after…” he trails off, like he’s embarrassed to have to bring it up.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I feel like I should be asking you.”

“Steve.”

His name still sounds the best in your voice, he thinks.

“I’m okay, promise. Last night, I guess I just- I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. While I was gone.” Every single day since I left, I missed you.

You’ve both felt it for a long time, but now’s the first time someone’s been brave enough to say it. The words settle in the air for a moment, hanging between you.

“I’m sorry, Ace. For everything.”

You want to fall into his arms as easily as you used to, to squeeze him and tell him it’s okay, it can be okay, if you try hard enough. The counter standing between you stops you from it, maybe for the better.

“Do you think- do you think maybe we can be friends again?”

I don’t know if I can just be your friend, he thinks. Not after knowing what it’s like to kiss you and wake up beside you, to touch you and love you. If it’s the only way to keep you around, though, he’ll give it all he has.

“I’d like that.”

Your smile is almost shy, but it’s there.

“We used to be better at this. Talking, I mean,” you say, trying to be light.

“We’ll get better again.”

It’s quiet again, save for the murmur of whatever movie Steve chose for the morning playing on the TV.

“I hope you know I haven’t been, like, holding a grudge, or anything. I forgave you a long time ago.”

You had to, even when it still hurt, even when you still wonder why things changed so quickly. He’s a human as much as you are, and letting things fester for years wouldn't do either of you any good.

Still, like any wound, it still bleeds from time to time.

“Doesn’t change that I’m sorry, Ace.”

You shy away from the sincerity in his stare, from the brown in his eyes that could so easily draw you back into him completely.

He bends to catch your eye, though, making sure you know he means it.

Letting yourself get close to Steve again is easy, it’s the friendship that’s hard.

He’s a good friend, you see it in his interactions with everyone around you. He’s a good friend and still, you can’t stop thinking about the kind of boyfriend he is. Caring and loving, full of touches to give, a hand on you whenever it could be. You miss the warmth of that hand.

You keep that to yourself , though, because things are better. So much better.

You and Steve don’t avoid each other anymore, the smiles aren’t so forced or small, the words not so careful. The only subject you stay away from is the breakup, and even then, you don’t think about it so much now that he’s around again. You think about everything before that. The good and the in love, sticky and sweet.

Tonight, he’s convinced you to come along and chauffeur the kids to the arcade. In turn, you’ve convinced him to go inside with you.

The various neon lights bathe your skin, blues and oranges, pinks and greens. You can't help but think they glow a little nicer on Steve’s face.

“What’s the first game gonna be?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder as you walk between the rows of games.

“Your choice, Ace. This was your idea.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug a shoulder, grinning.

Falling into conversation with Steve proves to still feel natural. You’ve gotten the chance to spend time with him more since you talked that morning at Family Video, and it’s paid off. Light teasing and check-ins are what they used to be before.

The part that still makes your heart beat faster, almost like it’s trying to find his, is what hangs in the silence. There's knowledge there; the silence used to be comfortable, and now, it’s full of questions and tension. What’s too much? What crosses the line of friendship you’ve had to draw?

If you’re being honest, being Steve’s friend almost makes you miss him more. You had to do it this way, though, if only to protect yourself from losing him ever again.

You’ve been pushing away any thoughts of Steve as a boyfriend as far away as you can.

“Okay,” you stop in front of Pac-Man.

“A classic,” he nods, putting change into the slot. “Ladies first.”

“Scared, Harrington?”

“Of you?” He shakes his head. “Never.”

Of what he feels for you, maybe.

You play well, and Steve watches your hands move as you do. He watches your eyes as they flit about the screen, your tongue poking between your lips in concentration. Watches, still, when you throw your head back and groan when you lose.

“My turn,” he says, bumping you over with his hips.

Despite his confidence, Steve loses really, really fast.

“It’s broken,” he declares.

“It’s not,” you say. “Try again.”

“You just like to see me lose.”

You wiggle your way in front of him so that his arms cage you in, one on either side of you, leaning on the game. “I’ll show you.”

He hopes he isn’t breathing as hard as he thinks he is. He can feel the ghost of your back against his chest, so, so close. He slips another coin into the slot and lets you guide his hands to the controls.

His hands are just as warm as you remember. Solid and softer than they look. You refrain from interlocking your fingers with his and focus on guiding him through the game. It’d be so easy to hold his hand, though. Muscle memory.

This time around, even when the screen tells him ‘game over,’ Steve feels like he’s won something at the slightest bit of contact you’d initiated.

Dustin finds the two of you, still playing Pac-Man, and taps his wrist. Duty calls.

After dropping the kids off, the car much quieter, you let yourself look at Steve as he drives. His side profile, the slope of his nose and line of his jaw, the way he squints at road signs.

“You should be wearing your glasses,” you say. You’re not even sure if he still has them.

“You know I hate those things.”

It’s true, you do know that. He barely even wore them around you when you’d been dating. They made him shy, even though you told him he looks pretty either way, any way.

You find that you still know a lot of things.

You still know him. You know that he owns a pair of reading glasses. You know that he scratches the back of his neck when he’s nervous. You know that he knuckles at his eyes when he doesn’t get enough sleep. You know that he sunburns easiest on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. You know him. All the small things, some he may not even know himself.

You might’ve missed some stuff, but really, you still know him. You still love him, too.

That realization hits you, a gust of wind strong enough to knock you off-balance if you weren’t sitting. You’ve been trying and trying to keep it all away. Yet, here you are, looking at the strand of hair that falls over Steve's forehead, realizing you love him all over again in the passenger seat of his BMW.

Maybe you never really stopped.

“Ace, did you hear me?”

“Hm?” You blink and suddenly he’s looking at you, too. And the car’s not moving. When did that happen?

“You zoned out on me, I think,” he runs a hand through his hair, pushing that strand you'd been focused on back into place. “We’re here.”

Your house, he means.

“Sorry. Thank you for driving,” you say, reaching for the handle and popping the door open. You bonk your head in your haste to get out.

“Shit! You okay?” He says, his hand reaching for you even though you’re too far to touch.

“Yup! Never better.”

Terrified by the four letter word that hasn’t left your head since it came back in, you can’t help but try to get away from Steve, from the boy who’s drawn the feeling from you in the first place without even trying. You hurry to the door with a rushed ‘bye!’

Steve stares at your front door even after you’ve closed it, eyebrows scrunched and mouth in a confused pout. He wonders what you were thinking about as he tried to grab your attention the whole way home.

Steve’s made a habit of visiting you at work.

If you’re working during the day, he’ll drive over on his lunch breaks and be sure to be seated in your section. If you’re working evenings, he’ll make some excuse about not wanting to cook dinner and still, he requests your section.

He‘s been coming so often that the hostesses don’t even wait for him to ask, they just nod and seat him at one of your tables.

You’ve had a lot of time to let your rediscovered love for Steve simmer, but it’s always there, making you smile like an idiot when you see him, making you stop yourself from reaching for his hand whenever it’s close enough.

It was naive of you to think you could limit yourself to friendly feelings for him. You know that now.

Walking out of the back, you find him sitting at what has become his usual table. A small round one, usually for two. The chair across from him empty. You like that better than when Becky was the one sitting in it.

“I’m starting to think you have no kitchen at all,” you say, standing behind the empty seat, leaning a hand on top of it.

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, you know you don’t have to come here to see me.”

“I want to come here to see you.”

Really, at this point, Steve thinks he’d be happy to visit you anywhere. Because of that, he’s definitely spending way too much money at Enzo’s.

“Okay then,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, then grab your notepad to write down his order. “What’ll it be this time?”

As much as Steve wishes you could sit down with him, he knows you have a job to do, so he gives you his order and takes any minute of conversation you can give him.

He watches you tend to the other tables you have, your smile and the way you talk, your mannerisms and the pattern of your steps. Often, he wonders if he’d still be sitting here, watching you with something in his eyes that can only be described as longing, if he never broke up with you that day. He likes to think he would be, only he’d be allowed to kiss you goodbye the way he so often wants to.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking to believe he could get to do that again, one day.

Since he felt your hands over his those weeks ago at the arcade, he’s decided he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, and do his best to prove that he won’t hurt you again.

Steve’s never stopped loving you, not for a second, and seeing your face again only reminded him of that. Being your friend again only amplified it.

Even worse, all of your friends are well aware of this. They never let him hear the end of it.

“Here you go,” you say, putting his food in front of him.

He shoots you a quick smile, “thank you.”

“‘Course. And don’t bother paying this time, it’s on me.”

“Don’t do that, I’m paying.”

“I already did it, okay? Just shut up and let me.”

When you walk away, he shakes his head and smiles at your retreating figure. Classic Ace, he thinks, so insistent on doing nice things. Yeah, he’ll wait years if he has to.

You chat with him when you can, telling him about a customer who’d yelled at you earlier in your shift over something so small, you can’t even remember why they were angry in the first place. He laughed through your story and offered to find the person and beat them up for you.

You reminded him that he usually loses fights.

A stern talking to, then, he’d said.

You giggled. Laughs like that came easy with Steve.

You were busy when he left, but when you went over to clean his table you’d found enough money left behind to pay for his food and give you a tip. You rolled your eyes at that. That’s Steve, always being the one to take care of everyone else. He can’t even let you pay for one damm meal.

He’d also left a note scrawled on a Family Video sticky note.

Thanks for letting me bug you again. Hope you’re not sick of me! -Steve x (and keep your money, please).

You folded it into a neat square and put it in your back pocket. This was a habit of his, too; leaving notes behind after he’d leave. So far, you’ve kept them all, in that same shoebox in your closet from high school.

You’re absolutely hopeless.

Steve didn’t have an excuse to call you, he just really wanted to see you. Or, hear your voice, at least.

“Hello?” You picked up after a couple rings.

“Ace. You busy today?”

“Mmm apart from laying down all day, no.”

“You wanna come lay down all day here?”

If he couldn’t hear you then, you would drop your face into your pillow and squeal. Instead, you press your free hand to your cheek and try to suppress your stupid grin.

“I guess I can shuffle some things around.”

“You’re awful,” he says. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep.”

A click and it’s quiet again.

It’s not even half an hour later that you’re knocking on the Harrington’s door. Steve opens up quickly (he’d been standing near the door waiting for you) and moves aside to let you in.

Steve scans your outfit as you walk ahead of him. You’re clad in slouchy sweats. He thinks you look beautiful. He thinks it all of the time, but there’s something about you being comfortable enough with him not to dress up that warms him from the inside out.

It reminds him of how you used to walk around his house, whenever his parents weren’t there, in your underwear and his softest t-shirt.

Baby steps, he thinks.

“Are you hungry?” He asks as you plop down onto his couch.

“I'm okay. A little tired.”

“I did ruin your plans of laying around, didn't I?”

“Ruin’s not the right word,” you say. You’d much rather be in his company than buried in your bed, anyway.

He sits next to you after turning on the TV, letting whatever’s playing stay on. There’s a respectable distance between you, your thighs close, but not touching.

“Are you happy you came back here?” Steve turns his head toward you. Here, as in Hawkins. Here, as in with him.

Your head pivots toward him, cheek on your shoulder. Your eyes find his. “Yes. Really happy.”

“Me too.”

There are a million things you could say, but then, in that moment, it feels like you don’t have to. Something silent is being shared. You look back at the TV and sink into the cushions.

As time goes on, your eyes grow heavier, blinking slowly trying to stay awake. Steve notices when your head falls forward a little and you force it back up.

“You’re tired.”

“Worked the closing shift last night.”

“You can lay down. I meant it when I said you

could do that here.”

“I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

You frown at him. “But then you’ll be all alone.”

“Just lay down, Ace.”

You roll your eyes but do it anyway. You’d actually been ready to nap when Steve called, but figured sleep could wait.

He tries not to overthink it when he gently places a hand on the side of your head, urging you to use his lap as your pillow. You go easily and blame it on your sleepy mind.

Instinctively, once you’re settled with your cheek on his thigh, Steve pets your hair from your face. He pulls his hand back, afraid of overstepping, but you miss his touch.

“No, don’t. Feels nice.”

“Okay,” he almost whispers.

Steve’s hand goes back to your hair, pushing it from your face, letting his fingers get tangled in it before pulling them back and doing it again. You fall asleep quickly, surrounded by Steve’s scent.

You nap for about forty minutes. Steve’s hand doesn’t stop at all, afraid that you’d wake up. He hasn’t paid much attention to the TV. Instead, he’s been tracing the details of your face over and over with his eyes.

Your eyelashes kissing the skin of your under eyes, the slope of your nose, the way your lips are slightly parted and pouting. He’s known it for years now, but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

All soft and, by his standard, absolutely perfect.

Self-indulgently, he lets his hand wander from your hair, the back of his index finger tracing a delicate line from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheek. You stir and he feels guilty.

“Did I wake you?”

You blink your eyes open and squint, turning so you lay on your back rather than your side, looking up at him. “Nuh-uh,” you say, even though he did.

If you were woken up like that every day, well, you’d become a morning person.

“Liar.”

“Am not.” He shakes his head, you yawn. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long. You feel better?”

“Much,” you nod, even though there’s a kink in your neck from the way you had it perched on his lap. You don’t care, it was the best sleep you’d had for a while.

You sit up and stretch until something cracks.

“Thanks for being my pillow.”

“Steve Harrington, human pillow, at your service.”

You push his shoulder lightly, “dork.”

You both laugh lightly. The sound fades when you realize how close your faces are. You reach up and brush the skin under his eye with your thumb.

“Eyelash,” you explain.

“Make a wish.”

When you were young, you wished on every birthday cake candle, every shooting star, that you’d find your person. Then, in your time with Steve, you wished to keep it. Now, as you blow the lash off your finger, you wish to have it back.

“Done.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“If it ever comes true, I’ll tell you.”

He nods, the tips of your noses brush. You can't stop your eyes from flicking to his mouth with him this close, you can feel his breaths, warm puffs of air against your skin.

Steve’s hand creeps up to cradle the back of your neck so gently you could cry. He uses it to guide you forward until your forehead is pushed against his.

“Steve.”

The whisper of his name is what snaps the rubber band. Steve tips your head up and kisses you.

It’s everything you remembered, and everything you’d forgotten, too. His lips are still soft, they still fit with yours the way puzzle pieces click together. Over time, you forgot how his feelings poured out of him when he’d kiss you. Now, he’s shy with it, slow-moving.

He pulls away, just for a second, to look at you, to check that you’re okay. You chase his mouth and he’s a goner, diving back in and inhaling deep at the feeling.

You can feel yourself melting into him, getting lost in the press of his lips against yours.

It hits you that Steve hasn’t kissed anyone since he was with you. That it’s been years since he’s last done this. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.

This is a big thing. Kissing Steve again is a big and scary thing. His free hand laying itself on your thigh jolts you out of it. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, pulling his hands away. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s just- I shouldn’t have done that.”

You’re supposed to be pushing your feelings aside. You’re supposed to be friends, that’s it. You’re not supposed to let it get to this point again, because you know how it feels when it ends. That can’t happen again.

“No, Ace. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry, okay?” You stand up, almost dizzy. “I’m just gonna go, I think.”

“Hey, come on. Stay. It won’t happen again.”

“I just need to, um, clear my head.”

You hurry to the door, trying to slip your shoes on as fast as possible. Steve catches your wrist loosely as you reach for the door.

“You can talk to me. You don’t have to leave.”

“I need to think, Steve,” you open the door. This time, he lets you. Before you close it you turn to him, “I’m not mad, I promise.”

All he can do is nod slowly and stare at the door long after you’ve closed it.

You meant it: you’re not mad. Well, not at Steve. You’re mad at yourself, really, for letting yourself fall for him again, for making yourself remember exactly how it feels to kiss him.

You’re not mad at Steve and yet, you haven’t been alone with him since that day. It’s for your own good, you hope. You don’t want to let yourself be with him again because you know what it feels like to lose him. It hurts and it sucks and you’d rather love him quietly than feel that ever again.

It’s game night at the Wheeler’s now, and so far, you’ve lost pretty much every game. You find it doesn’t bother you all that much when you’re around such good people.

As Nancy shuffles Uno cards, you stand, “skip me this round. I gotta pee.”

“Thank you for announcing that,” Dustin says.

“You’re welcome, Dusty,” you ruffle his hair on your way to the bathroom.

Once you’re washing your hands, you inspect yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s frizzier than you’d like and your mascara’s smudged under your eyes. You use your pinky, wet with tap water, to wipe it away.

You unlock and open the door and find Steve leaning against the wall in the hallway. Not expecting anyone to be there, you jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, laughing lightly.

“Why’re you standing there?”

“Waiting for the bathroom.”

You don’t point out that there are more than one bathrooms in the Wheeler’s house. Instead, you move out of the doorway and let him go in. Only, he doesn’t move.

“Okay, I lied,” he confesses. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh. Well, here I am.”

“Yeah,” he looks you over, like he can’t help it. “Will you come home with me? So we can talk about…”

As much as you wish you could just forget about that kiss, you can’t. It hasn’t left your mind for more than five minutes at a time. Often, you find yourself pressing your fingers to your mouth, searching for the ghost of his. Besides, how can you say no to Steve saying the words ‘will you come home with me’?

“Okay,” you say quietly, then, more sure, “okay, sure.”

You walked there, and though you’d usually much prefer the comfort of the BMW, you can’t help but worry about what he wants to say the rest of the night.

Once you’ve said your goodbyes and walk towards Steve’s car, you can almost feel Robin’s knowing smile as she watches you climb into the passenger seat.

The drive feels like a dream in the sense that you blinked and it ended. You suppose time can fly when you’re lost in thought, in what-ifs.

You only realize you’ve made it to Steve’s house when you hear the click of the gearshift and the quiet of the engine shutting off that follows. You follow him inside, watching the way he fiddles with his keys, his hand flicking on the lights inside.

He leads you to his bedroom. He knows he could’ve stopped in the kitchen or the living room, but he’s most comfortable in the only room that feels completely his in the house. He needs to be comfortable for this.

You sit on the edge of his bed, and he leans on the dresser across from you.

There’s an anticipation almost humming in the air. Who will speak first, what will they say.

“So-”

“Listen-”

You speak at the same time.

“You first,” Steve offers.

“I’m sorry for running out like that. I was just overwhelmed, I guess. Had to think.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. I feel like I should be apologizing to you.”

For so much more than just that kiss. Then again, he’s not really sorry for kissing you, he’s only sorry for possibly hurting you with it.

“We were doing so good.” He furrows his brows at you in question. “At just being friends.”

“I don’t think I could ever look at you as just a friend, Ace. Not after knowing what it’s like to have you.”

You want to tell him you feel the same, you want to tell him so bad. The words are stuck in your throat. You’re so afraid, so nervous, for what could happen if you try this again.

“Do you regret kissing me?” You ask instead.

“I know I should, but I can’t regret anything with you.”

“I don’t regret it, either.”

The room seems to shrink, the air thicken. Steve’s hands clench on the edge of the dresser, holding himself back, almost.

You don’t think you want him to hold back. You want to slap yourself for it, but you’ve missed the way his kiss melted you every day since you felt it. Maybe, if you can’t tell him, you can show him how you feel.

“Kiss me again,” you say.

“What?”

He must have heard you wrong. Only, when you repeat yourself, he knows he didn’t.

“You’re sure?” He checks.

All you can do is nod, almost eagerly. He pushes off from the dresser and stands in front of you. Your knees brush against the fabric of his jeans as he moves closer. His hands gently cup your face, tilt it up so you’re looking at him.

His eyes flick between yours, and when you nudge your cheek into his hand, like an encouragement, he bends down to place his lips over yours.

It starts gently, like the last one. Steve’s lips glide over yours slowly, making sure you don’t want to pull away. It feels like high school and sneaking through windows, like popcorn kisses at the movies and the feeling of Skull Rock behind your back. It feels like the past and yet, there’s an emotion there that wasn’t before.

Longing, knowing what it feels like to lose this.

It’s gentle until your hands snake their way under Steve’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the sunshine pouring out of him. That’s when his hold on your face becomes a bit more firm, one of his thumbs pushing on your chin to get you to open it for him.

That’s when the dam seems to break.

Steve kisses you deeper and deeper, pushing himself closer and closer until you’re being laid down on the bed. He pulls away from you, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, to give you space to push yourself up to his pillows.

He tugs his shirt off before climbing over you, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of your head, his brown eyes darkened.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yes,” you nod, “I missed you.”

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him back to you, his mouth finding yours easily. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this with Steve, but the rhythm of it all comes easily. It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve spent so long learning what they like.

He kisses you enough to feel dazed, your head a jumble of SteveSteveSteve and your hips canting towards his unconsciously. He’d been holding his weight off of you before that, but feeling you brush against him had him pushing his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed.

You broke the kiss only to catch your breath, and Steve took the time to push wet kisses down your jawline, to your neck, breathing heavy in between them.

Selfishly, possessively, he tugs the neckline of your shirt down and sucks a hickey into your collarbone, licking over it when he’s done. Your hands have buried themselves in his hair at some point, and you feel his groan against your skin when you tug.

He moves down still, pushing your shirt up to bunch underneath your bra and peck his way across your stomach.

“Steve,” you almost whine.

He peeks up at you, “yeah, baby?”

Baby. He hasn’t called you that in years. The sound of the pet name in his voice is enough to have the dampness in your panties grow.

“You’re teasing me.”

“You used to like that,” he pouts.

“It’s been too long. Please.”

He’s trying to act composed on the outside when really, the word ‘please’ leaving your mouth is enough to have him push his crotch into the mattress.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. His hand pauses on the waistband of your pants, “can I?”

“Yes.”

He unbuttons them and tugs down the zipper, sits up on his knees to pull them down and off your legs, your socks and underwear follow.

Steve can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe you’re there, on his bed, looking so pretty for him. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

You grow shy under his stare, his eyes focused where you’re embarrassingly wet all because of him. You try to shut your legs, but he stops you with a hand on your knee, “you’re beautiful, Ace. You don’t need to hide. It’s just me.”

You’re not sure how to tell him the reason you care so much is because it’s him of all people. Steve who you’ve known for so long, Steve who you used to have, like this. Steve, who you love.

He lays down between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs, thumbs running back and forth soothingly across your skin. He kisses up your thighs and pauses when his breath hits your cunt. He glances up at you for permission.

You nod, a hand finding one of his on your leg and weaving your fingers together.

You try to keep your head up to be able to see him, but as soon as he runs his tongue up your slit it falls back into the pillow, a gasp escaping you. You squeeze his hand in yours.

Steve works you quickly, so much so that it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten a single thing about you.

His tongue runs over you again and again, your slick surely all over his mouth. When it hits the bead of your clit, your free hand is in his hair again. He grunts into you at the pull, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of it all.

When your hand squeezes his even tighter, Steve moves his free hand to your entrance, his mouth hit around your clit. He works a finger in, then a second. He curves them and searches until he finds the spot that makes you whimper out a noise he wants to hear again.

“Steve,” his name a breathy moan.

“Go on, baby. I can feel it. You wanna come?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“I've got you.”

He works his fingers quicker, puts his mouth back on you and flicks his tongue and just like that you’re being pushed over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands holding him even tighter.

He watches as you come down, his cheek against your thigh, “so pretty.”

You manage a lazy smile, taking your hand out of his hair, “sorry. Did that hurt?”

“I liked it. You know that.”

He moves back up until his face is above yours, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him.

Your hands trail down his back, his muscles shifting as he holds himself up. They land on the waistband of his jeans, tracing it around to his stomach, letting your fingers go further, feeling the skin just above his underwear.

You pull back from his mouth to glance down to where your fingers run back and forth over his skin, pausing to undo the button of his jeans.

“Who’s teasing now?” He says, voice low in your ear.

A shrug is your reply, followed by his zipper being pulled down slowly. His head bends to watch your hands work his pants and boxers down enough to free him, his cock hard and pink at the tip, pretty as ever.

You wrap a hand around him, “better?”

“Much.”

You work him slowly, like you’re trying to remember the feeling of him, your hand pausing at the tip to let your thumb run over it.

Steve tried to remember the way your hand felt against him when he was desperate and alone. Now, having you again, he knows his imagination could never do you justice. You’re soft in a way he never could be.

When you squeeze him a bit tighter, moving a bit quicker, he drops his head onto your shoulder, groaning.

“Ace.”

“Uh-huh?”

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come,” he picks his head up, sets his eyes on yours, “I don’t wanna come like this.”

“Feels nice in my hand, though.”

“I can make it feel a whole lot better, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you, Ace.”

“I want you, too.”

He pecks your lips quickly before standing to take his pants off fully. You take your shirt and bra off at the same time. It makes you nervous to be naked in front of him again, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help. It’s a searing gaze, almost burning your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost like he was saying it to himself.

He climbs over you once more when you make hands at him. His skin is warm, mirroring the way you feel all over. Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, trails his hand down your neck, to your chest. He cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly then letting a thumb run over your nipple.

You bite back a whimper.

His mouth gives the tit that isn’t in his hand attention, pecking and sucking and licking.

“Steve,” you push your hips up.

“Sorry, baby. Missed these girls, too.”

You roll your eyes.

He kisses your cheek and takes the hand off your chest to hold himself, running his head up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. When he pauses at your entrance, he looks at you.

“You’re still okay? Still want this?”

You nod, hands running in circles on the back of his shoulders, “yes. I’m ready.”

He’s big, and the stretch of him pushing into you is sharper now that you’re not used to it. He soothes you with sweet words and soft kisses to your neck.

Halfway, he checks in, “good?”

You wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him in the rest of the way, whining when his pelvis is against yours.

“Fuck,” he says into the skin of your neck, just below your ear. “You’re heaven, Ace.”

“Move, Steve,” your hands tighten on his shoulders. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling back slowly only to push in again. You can feel everything, you think. Maybe because it’s been so long or because sex with someone you love is better than any other sex. Maybe it’s just Steve.

He’s all over you. His hair tickling your chin, his mouth open against your neck, breaths hot against your skin. He’s in your mind and in your heart and in you, deeper than anyone else. You feel so full. Of him, of emotion, of memories of nights you used to have just like this one.

Full of him in every way.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says. “There’s nobody like you. No one, Ace.”

“I-” love you, you almost say. “Steve.”

The pitch of your voice tells him to go faster, and he lifts his head to see your face. Mouth agape, soft moans and breaths spilling out, eyebrows scrunched, eyes falling shut when he finds your spot.

“Open your eyes,” he says, softly. “Come on, baby.”

You do, blinking them open and looking up at him. His hair is a mess around his head, sweaty strands falling over his forehead, his cheeks are flushed pink and you’re sure they’d be warm to the touch.

He drops his forehead against yours, your sounds and breaths mingling between your mouths, your noses nudging against each other with every push of his hips.

Your arms go around his neck, one hand tangling itself in the hair at the nape of his neck. You’re getting closer and closer and by the way his movements grow just a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he is, too.

“Ace. Baby, you’re there, yeah? I can feel you squeezing me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

“So close, Steve.”

He’s holding himself up on one elbow, trailing his free hand down to rub circles over your clit. “Come on.”

You finish with a cry of his name, your eyes squeezing shut. It’s overwhelming, the feelings that blind you. The pleasure and the affection, the heat and the love you really don’t think you could imagine. So much so that tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

He’s not far behind, “shit. Where do you want me?”

In your haze, you can barely manage a reply, “tummy.”

He pulls out and jerks himself until you can feel him coming on your skin. He moans and it’s a beautiful sound. You run your hands over his skin through it all, grounding him and yourself.

Your foreheads are still together, slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he pecks you once, twice, three times. “You okay?”

“Really good.”

“Will you stay?”

You hadn’t even thought of leaving. You wouldn’t dream of it. Not now, at least, in your post-orgasm daze where fears and worries don’t reach you.

“Mhm,” you hum your agreement.

Steve’s grin splits his cheeks, wide and toothy and infectious enough to make you smile, too.

“I’ll be right back,” he rolls away from you, standing beside the bed. Before walking away, he bends to peck you again. He heads to the bathroom after that.

You note the freckles that dot his back and shoulders as he goes. A constellation you never forgot; burned in your memory. One you used to play connect the dots with in the mornings.

He comes back with a wet cloth, wiping his come from your stomach and then cleaning you up as gently as possible, giving a soft apology when you whimper in sensitivity.

He tosses the cloth aside when he’s done and searches his drawers for a clean pair of boxers. He tugs them on then finds a baggy sleep shirt for you. You watch him the whole time, the way he moves and the way the streetlights seeping in through the window light his skin.

Coming back to you, he tells you to sit up and puts the shirt over your head. He didn’t even have to ask, he knows what you like to sleep in. When you look at the shirt he picked, you find it’s one that used to be your favorite.

You bring the fabric to your nose and hide your grin in it.

Steve pulls the blankets over you, then himself when he lays down beside you. He doesn’t even hesitate before tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

“I really missed you, Ace.”

“Missed you, Steve,” you reply sleepily.

He kisses your forehead.

You fall asleep easily, Steve’s fingers running back and forth over your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

Steve wakes up before you do.

You’ve both moved in your sleep. Now, you lay on your stomach, face turned towards him and cheek squished into the pillow. He lays on his side, propped up by his elbow, looking at you.

He looks at you, asleep and pretty, and wonders how he could ever give you up.

His free hand tucks your hair behind your ear, away from your face, brushes his knuckles across your cheeks as lightly as possible. He moves to your arm and traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin.

He draws the words over and over, only pulling his hand away when you rouse.

You breathe in deep before opening your eyes, moving your head on the pillow to look over at Steve properly. His eyes are already set on you, puffy with sleep and full of something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

“Hi,” his voice is different in the morning, lower.

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you stretch your legs and turn onto your side. “You?”

“Better than I have in a while, actually.”

You can tell that there’s something he wants to say, that he’s thinking of the words. It makes you nervous, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he regrets it. Almost worse, maybe he doesn’t.

“Can I say something?”

“Steve-”

“No, let me say it. If you hate it, we can forget about it, okay?”

His eyes are soft, pleading. You can tell that whatever it is, it really matters to him and there’s no way you can ignore that.

“Okay.”

“I still love you.”

His words hang in the air, your chests both rise and fall a bit quicker, hearts beating faster in tandem.

You’ve been dreaming of him saying it to you, and yet, hearing it out loud, you can’t help but be terrified. You love him, you know you do, and it scares you. It’ll hurt worse the second time around if you lose him.

“I still love you,” he continues in your silence. “I miss you so much, Ace. I want to do it again. I want to be with you and do it right.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t. You won’t. I’ve thought of you every day since you left,” his hand finds yours atop the sheets, fingers linking. “I didn’t want to break up with you, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Why did you?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Squeezes your hand, too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. You were going off to school and I’d be here and I didn’t want to hold you back. I wanted you to go and to do it fully.”

Your heart pinches in your chest. Steve really believed he’d been doing you a favor by letting you go.

“It hurt for a long time, Steve. I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you again, Ace,” he swipes away the tear that falls from your cheek. “Just answer one thing for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

It’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Of course I love you, Steve. I would’ve stayed if you asked me to.”

“That’s why I did it,” his thumb runs over your cheek gently. “I couldn't let you give it all up for me. But you’re back now, and I love you and you love me. Let me try again.”

You want to say yes. So badly, you want to be with him. So why can't you just say it? It’s like glue’s been dropped down your throat, sticking all the right words in it so that nothing useful comes out. You try anyway.

“I’m just scared.”

You shut your eyes.

“Will you look at me?” You do, and right then it’s hard to feel scared anymore. He’s looking at you like he’s never been more sure of anything. “You’re my forever. I know you are. Let me show you.”

You focus on his hand in yours, his touch on your face. You focus on the fact that this is Steve. Steve who you love, who you know you want to be with past all the fear and worry.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay? Like, you’ll be my girl again?”

“Yes, yeah.”

His grin spreads wide enough to have his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rushes forward to kiss you, three quick pecks broken by your smiles.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask him, suddenly brave, like his kiss fixed everything.

“Anything.”

“I wished for you. On that eyelash. The day we kissed.”

He kisses you again for that.

༄

thank u for reading! if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought it would mean a bunch <3

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bots-and-cons · 6 days ago

Note

Hello and good day. I love to see that I finally caught your blog while the askbox is open.

Could we get either headcanons or a scenario of Starscream worth a human lover that he's trying to keep secret from Megatron? (Megs totally knows, but he "allows it" because Starscream has been less traitorous and more productive than he's been in millenia.)

A/N: I decided on HCs, since that’s the easier option. Idk what this really ended up becoming, I just had fun while writing this

•Starscream has been very focused on making sure you’re safe for a while now

•Making sure Megatron doesn’t find out about you and do something drastic, has Starscream on his best behavior

•Of course Megatron found out about you like two days after Starscream started disappearing more and more often, because Soundwave told him about it

•Soundwave keeps an eye on every decepticon, but especially the more higher ranked ones, such as Starscream

•Anyway, Megatron was about to tear him a new one, but he decided he would see how things go

•Honestly, it’s been quite beneficial to both of them, Starscream gets to spend time with you uninterrupted and Megatron gets a good second in command

•Or at least one that doesn’t try to stab him in the back EVERY chance he gets

•Starscream still takes all the precautions to try and make sure Megatron doesn’t find out about you

•Because he of course isn’t aware that Megatron already knows

•Megatron has a hard time keeping what he knows to himself, because every time Screamer disobeys him or goes off plan, his first instinct is to threaten you, but he can’t do that without revealing what he knows

•So it’s basically Starscream keeping a secret from Megatron, who knows the secret and is trying to keep him knowing about it secret

•With all his scheming and such, you’d think Starscream was good at keeping secrets, but he actually sucks at it

•Megatron has of course always been aware of his treacherous ways, but he’s never really consider Starscream a tangible threat

•Now even less so, since Megatron knows he can easily keep Starscream in check by threatening you if need be

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #decepticons #starscream #megatron #tfp headcanons #reader insert #tfp x reader #transformers x reader

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koipudding · 2 months ago

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jing yuan has just sentenced his friend to life in prison. life.

in the most torturous of places on the ship… and his other friend, wrinkles and silver hair… comes back wrong. comes back with dark hair like how he was fifty years ago, and a smile that doesn’t quite match the glare in his eyes.

jing yuan has killed and has been killed. he’s been brought back from wounds he should not have healed from, and dehydrated from his own tears.

he remembers the blood, the warm liquid when he killed mom—master— and tried to send her off alone, when Yingxing and Dan Feng were off, busy with work, and the trio had sent Baiheng off earlier during that decade.

he remembers the day he saw her again, a few hundred years later, still the same and still somewhat fond of him.

he tries to forget, he indulges in a few vices just to try and push it away, what harm can it do? his mind is already eroding and he has someone who will take his spot if he somehow perishes for good (he doesn’t know if he can even die at this point. dan heng stabbed him and yet he recovered like it was nothing. he doesn’t feel anymore.) so why bother? he asks.

why bother trying when all he does is suffer and feel a dull ache that never leaves?

the death of jingliu is in the back of his throat, burning whenever he feels the exhaustion of his position linger.

the death of her lover, her best friend, bai heng is in his knee. he feels it most when it rains.

the death—the sentencing—of Dan Feng, and the imprisonment of Dan Heng is in his left wrist. the pain of writing the decree, the pain of forcing himself to let Dan Heng go.

the pain of Yingxing’s death is in his right wrist, but Blade’s appearance stirs something in the left shoulder, right inside his shoulder blade, something rots. his glaive suddenly feels heavy, and he forgets what Jingliu taught him.

his parents’ disapproval weighs down his shoulders. it hurt carrying those books, lifting those weights to make it into the Cloud Knights.

He forgets what joy is like. he has his moments of laughter, but somehow it feels wrong.

dan feng is gone. yingxing is gone. laughter feels wrong without them, feels bad without them, like eating a fish. bones dig into his throat and pierce his tongue.

“…it’s raining.” he whispers.

“there is no rain on the Luofu.” Fu Xuan whispers silently.

“…It is raining.” he whispers with such… conviction Fu Xuan nods.

“…indeed it is.” she doesn’t know what to say, not even the omniscia can help here, not when the General is so picky about what mask he wears in front of her.

“…” she opens an umbrella over his head.

“…”

it goes still over the tombstones. just the four plaques and small flask of booze and the finest moon cakes he can offer. it’s that time of year, right before fall.

“General!” March runs over with Yanqing, the two have been training with Yunli…

he wipes away his tears… but caelus and stelle still see. Dan Heng sees.

“…jing yuan.” he whispers.

Dan Heng can feel it, the tombstones, the etchings in the plaques, he knows this place, having visited in his past as Dan Feng when Baiheng had died.

“…They wouldn’t have wanted you to linger here.” he whispers, dragging the General away.

“That’s right!” yanqing looks so.. earnest. “General i—i didn’t know them, not like you but… i think they would’ve wanted you to… forgive yourself.”

his throat burns, the knee spasms and his wrists ache.

“you’re right.” he doesn’t smile. he doesn’t try to pretend.

“…perhaps you can show me what you and Yunli have taught March.” he pats his student’s head as caelus and stelle dig through the trash cans nearby.

It’s so easy for him to be oh so passive. He’s lucky to still have people who guide him back.

i’m sorry if i got anything wrong. this isn’t necessarily complaint with canon as it’s emotionally, not factually fueled. i did this for a good time and i’ve been in the feels for a bit.

#jing yuan #angst with a happy ending #light angst #jing yuan x reader #kinda sorta #jingheng #high cloud quintet #i wrote this for fun #i haven’t written much #koi♪

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mrs-k0zume · 10 months ago

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𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐘𝐂𝐋𝐄 || 𝐊. 𝐊𝐎𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐄 ~

tryna get another taste but I’m all cramped up

husband! kenma x afab reader, period comfort.

slight nsfw but I don’t think so.

[ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓 ]

You were in pain. You were twisting and turning in your bed with no luck of getting any sleep. Your eyes burned with heavy tiredness but your stomach was interrupting with the cramping pain as if someone was stabbing your uterus over and over with each contraction. You softly grazed your hand over your stomach to try and calm the smooth pain as your stomach flinched with sensitivity.

Your eyes squeezed shut and a soft groan escaped your mouth out of instinct as there was nothing you could do to ease the pain of the shedding organ that sat in your body. You rolled over with a sigh and reached for your phone in hopes that your husband had called or texted you that he was on his way just to find no notifications, even with the swipe of your finger. No older notifications either. You rolled back over and put your hand over your forehead, knowing that there was nothing you could do to help the unbearable pain that was keeping you awake from your deep slumber.

Your eyes burst open the second the lock of the door and the jingling sound of your husband’s silver keys met your ears. You wanted to jump up and give him a tight hug to welcome him home like usual but the fatigue of your shaking body was begging you to stay in bed. Footsteps of your lover echoed in your ear as each step got closer and closer to the room you were in. Your longing for his comfort grew hungrier with each sound he made on his way to the bedroom door even though he was only out for a few hours to attend a boring meeting. You felt the pain in your tired body get a tiny bit numb as you finally made eye contact with the effortlessly beautiful man the minute he opened the door and stepped into the room.

Not knowing what was going on, your husband made his way to your bed and wasted no time to leave wet kisses alongside your neck. The glistening saliva trailed down your neck and onto the silk of the bedsheets as he gave up on one kiss to give another. His kisses became dangerous to the state that you’re in as his teeth fit perfectly in your skin. The small bites on your sweet spot and his slender hands roaming around your body forced you to forget to even ask why he’s doing this. You could tell he had a stressful day at work, but you knew that you couldn’t fulfill his needs and desires from the constant flow of scarlet and the constant feeling of stiletto daggers.

“K-kenma I.. I’m on my period..we can’t do this.. not now.” Words slipped off your tongue and formed a lullaby in Kenma’s ears as he finally heard you speak, but unfortunately your voice didn’t form the words he wanted to hear. His body relaxed itself upon hearing the pain in your voice. His eyes making contact with yours. He never needed to say any words when his amber hues spoke for him themselves. You could see everything in his eyes. And right now you can see yourself reflecting off those beautiful orbs that you fell in love with, and the sorrow and guilt for he didn’t ask of your consent before getting lost in his own desires. “Baby I.. I’m so sorry.” His soft voice spoke.

You brought your hand up to his face once you heard the worry in his angelic voice. He knew you were in pain. He just wished he knew how much pain you were in so he could give you what you needed without needing to ask. He never cared about people. His anxiety took his chances from ever making friends but he never minded that. Kenma was always in his own little world until he joined the volleyball club and met you.

You were just like Hinata. You were easy to talk to and just hearing your voice makes him want to smile. Except when he smiles at you, he smiles with warmth and fondness. Then when he looks at you, his eyes light up with deep affection and intimacy. Now, you’re married. You, married him. You chose him. And you don’t regret a single thing. So when it comes to you, he doesn’t want anything to come in between the two of you, and he doesn’t want anything and especially anyone to hurt you. Kenma would do anything to take that pain away so you didn’t have to suffer like this. There’s nothing that bothers Kenma more than seeing you this way.

Your thumb caressed small circles on your husbands cheek until he pulled you closer to him by the waist. He wanted to stay like this. The warmth of his body on yours felt like heaven to your cramping womb that laid in your stomach. Kenma couldn’t stop himself from playing with your hair that was slightly greasy and oily due to you being in too much pain to wash it. Kenma’s brows stitched together after noticing that you haven't taken very good care of yourself. "Babe? Are you sure you’re alright?" He cupped your cheek into his hand as he spoke so softly that your tears were getting harder to hold back from the melody of your husband’s delicate voice that always managed to pull just the right strings of your heart.

"It hurts." Your voice shuddered with the tears you choked back. Kenma cupped your sensitive stomach with his warm and gentle hands. In pain or not, his touch always made you flinch from how gentle he was with you. The way his eyes would soften only when they were on you and the way he'd treat you like a fragile glass rose as if trying not to hurt you. Kenma always made sure to take so much good care of you and loved you in every way possible. It almost made you want to cry at the beautiful thought that the he could love you so deeply and passionately. "It's okay I’m right here.” Kenma softly whispered into your ear, his warm breath blowed against the back of your ear and easily soothed your irritated body.

He massaged your tummy ever so gently and whipped the droplets of tears that spilled down your cheeks as he whispered sweet words to calm you down. His soft touch and beautiful voice didn't help with the pain but it did help you to the point your eyes gave up and fluttered themselves shut as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Noticing that you were calm and asleep, Kenma held you closer into his embrace that was so warm, if you were awake, you wouldn't want to leave. Your husband closed his eyes. His hair getting messy with every small shuffle he makes in his sleep.

The the sun shone through the coquette curtains that hung above your windows and into your still tired eyes. The pain in your stomach didn't feel as bad as yesterday yet you still didn't want to get up to feel that bloody waterfall leak onto the old pad that still needs to be changed. As you had noticed that your husband was no longer in bed with you anymore, you smelled the sweet aroma of pancakes being made in the kitchen. A small smile formed on your tired face and you finally had an actual good reason to get up, other than the fact that blood is constantly flowing from your body and into your full pad.

You sighed and twisted yourself off of your bed that felt so much more comfortable now that you're getting out of it, and slowly stood up, trying your best to ignore the pool of blood that had been waiting to fall all night. You walked slowly, putting one foot in front of the other, feeling more blood fall with each step and walked to the bathroom for a quick heated shower that would hopefully ease the bit of pain that was leftover from last night. You stepped into the bathroom and turned to close the door behind you but before you could you heard a soft yet lazy voice.

"Good morning babe, I made you breakfast."

It was Kenma.

[ 𝐄𝐍𝐃 ]

Please don’t mind spelling mistakes. Some of you would notice that some of the story looks quite familiar. Can you guess why?

special mention @ashr0 for I now have the motiv to write a little more and I took inspiration from your aesthetic

#kenma #kenma kozume #kozuken #hq kenma #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq x reader #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma x y/n #period comfort #anime #anime x reader #kodzuken

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itsgrimeytime · 7 months ago

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The Lover || Rick Grimes (TWD) x gn!reader

1...

rick grimes taglist: @golden-hoax @mgparker @zomb-1-egutzz

AVAILABLE ON AO3

The Sequel to The Nurse (my series masterlist)

Summary: A long time ago, you were Rick Grimes's nurse. Now, you loved him, and he loved you. Or at least that's where you left it off. With Judith safe in your arms and Rick distinctly not by your side, you could only hope his feelings stayed the same because they sure as hell did for you.

TWs: blood, inhumane rage (you're kinda crazy in this one ngl), threatening someone's life, vague mention of murder, blades, and all things TWD.

[[A/N: heyyy, it's finally here!!! it's going to be less of Rick in this one for obvious reasons. At least for now. Looked it up and it took 10 days to get to Alexandria for the main group, so I'm going to be writing those for these first few chapters. Thanks for reading!!!]]

It had been two days since the prison -you could only count by the sun setting and the nightfall. You were running on autopilot, step after step; periodically feeding Judith because she wasn't crying anymore. You hadn't had any run-ins, not yet.

Your hand clenched against your side -tight on your axe. It was still the same fire-axe that you'd gotten at the hospital -blood ingrained in the blade and handle from your entire journey. You weren't sure it would wash off at this point.

It felt like a part of you now. Always there, familiar.

Like Rick had, or Carl, or Judith, or anyone at the prison-

You swallowed, they're alive. You know it.

You didn't, but it helped to think so.

If they get hurt, they've got Hershel, they'll survive, you assured, trying not to let the guilt bubble into your stomach.

Judith fussed a little then -the gentle pull of her eyebrows and squirming in her makeshift carrier. Your hand immediately came to soothe, smoothing against her head -gently whispering to shush her.

You were hidden away in a shack -somewhere along the road. It provided shelter, and that was enough for now. Pulling out a can of... something, you couldn't remember, you stabbed your knife through and opened it up. You'd been rationing, only eating when necessary; in the case that Judith's formula ran out, you wanted to keep her fed.

The first thing you'd noticed was the snap of a branch, just a single branch. It singled out in the night. Walkers would break more than one, you remembered.

Judith was asleep on your chest, you didn't dare move her; she was safer with you than without you. You knew that well.

Carefully, you put the can by your side, gently as if to not make any other sounds that would bring attention to you. You or Judith. All that you were running on was adrenaline, and just the urge to protect, protect, protect-

If whoever this was tried to lay a hand on Judith-

You carefully stood up, pulling your axe off the ground with you. Swinging it around in your hands, it was so familiar now. Attached to you. You weren't sure how to feel about it, but you couldn't really feel anything now -your mind was focused. Shelter, food, water, and Judith.

There was nothing else in this world for you. Not now.

With a breath, you slammed the door open -axe at the ready. You didn't catch on anyone at first, but then you heard it again and spun on your feet. You eyes settled on someone.

Their hands were shaking, but they held a gun to you -metal tip pointing and glinting in the sun. Your jaw tightened, as you gnawed on your lip, hands solid on your axe.

"Drop it," they spoke, but their voice was shaky. You could physically see their hands shake, something in your stomach steeled, "-or I'll-"

"I wouldn't," you remarked, bitterly -not an ounce of anything but anger melding along your words.

They pressed their lips together, seeming to gain a little more confidence, "I have a gun, I will shoot-"

You spoke again, tone sharp -something flashing behind your eyes.

"I wouldn't."

Protect, protect, protect-

They stared at you, something smoothing through their eyes. Something flashing, their lip trembling ever so slightly. You didn't flinch.

"What, all you have is an axe-"

"Did you know-" you hummed carefully stepping toward them, voice measured and careful, "-there are 1.5 gallons of blood in the human body?"

They snapped their lips shut, as you roamed closer, pressing the blade into their space. Tantalizingly close to their neck.

"And it only takes one little slice to lose it all?"

They froze for a moment, just one second. And you reacted instinctively, elbowing the gun out of their hands. It flew off into the bushes (snaps of branches telling you it did), but you kept your eyes solely on them. Lips pressed into a thin line.

"Look," they retracted, something pleading in their eyes, "-all I want is some food. I just- I haven't eaten in days."

You stared at them, axe still close to their neck -the vein that would do the job. You knew that, you'd read it in textbooks, seen bloody hands try to apply pressure, but it was too quick. Too fast.

"You threatened to kill my baby," you tsked, jutting the axe forward a little more. It was just a hair away and something in you was angry, so angry. Just an inch, just an inch, just an inch-

Protect, protect, protect-

"I wasn't going to! Not really, I just-" their eyes sunk to the blade, teary now, "-Please, I... I don't want to die like this-"

Protect, protect, protect-

You took a heavy breath in, eyes squeezing shut, hand clenching your axe so tight your knuckles were white. Something in you recentering, coming back to earth.

You pulled back the axe, but didn't let up your stare, growling, "If you ever try and hurt her again, I'll snap your spine myself."

They swallowed, blearily.

Motioning to the shack, you spoke -sharply, "There's some leftovers in there, take them."

They scrambled then, for the can, but you took pause a second. Carefully putting your axe back in place, you asked, "Have you seen a man and a kid? The kid, he... he wears a sheriff's hat."

The person seemed confused, maybe from so blatant of a switch, with the can gathered up in their hands. Still, they pressed their lips together, and answered, "I haven't."

Your heart stung, and you swallowed, nodding. With a breath, you set off to start walking again, it was morning -you needed to be productive in the daylight. But they stopped you.

"For your good, and the kid's," they warned, "-don't go to Terminus."

"Terminus?" You questioned.

"You're heading that way," they continued, eyes portraying a seriousness, "-they say it's a safe place. It's not. Don't go there."

"And," you breathed out, "-where should I go?"

They seemed to pause, scanning you over, "I don't know for sure, but I hear there's a place called Alexandria. It's good there, safe. Safe enough for a baby."

Your eyes darted down to Judith, still sleeping soundly against your chest. Your hand came up to rub against her hair -smoothing it down in place. She was your whole world now. If it was safe for her, it's where you'll go.

"Why aren't you there?" You questioned, "-If it's safe?"

"Looking for someone," they answered -briskly.

"Me too," you took a shaky breath in, your hands were shaking by your sides, "-I'm sorry about-"

They shook their head, cutting off your words, "It's your kid, I'd do the same."

You nodded once solidly, "Thanks."

They didn't say a word, and you decidedly moved forward. Keep moving.

They're alive, they're alive, they're alive-

You ended up near a few stores -walkers roaming around the strip.

You'd been keeping your eye out for signs, you saw them a lot. Different places offering safe havens, you hadn't seen one for Alexandria yet though. Had seen one for Terminus, and you had the brief thought that maybe Rick had been there. Were they okay? Did they come back from it?

You swallowed, not wasting time thinking about it. You couldn't, not anymore. You had Judith, you'd focus on Judith.

Inhaling, you roamed along the strip, pulling your axe into your hand again at the few walkers who roamed nearby. There wasn't enough that it was concerning, but you still didn't like them being anywhere near you. Especially with Judith held to your chest.

Quickly disposing of the one right by the door (lodging the blade through its head), you slowly made your way inside. It had a glass exterior, but all of it was smashed; it cracked under your feet, as you kept a hand on the back of Judith's head -just in case. The store, what looked to be some sort of convenience store, was raided pretty heavily only a few cans of what looked like alphabet soup on the food shelf.

Without hesitation, you took off your pack and shoved the cans into it. You didn't have much space, not with all of Jude's stuff, but you worked with what you had. Only finding two water bottles, you stashed one away for bottles and the other brought to your lips, before shoving it away.

You went through a few shops like that, some novelty shops with little trinkets and toys (you took just one for Judith), some snack shops where the aisles were completely cleaned out. And then, you stumbled upon a clothing store.

You stared at it, a little dumbfounded.

It was relatively untouched, sans the broken glass along the front. You figured that clothes were that important in the grand scheme of the apocalypse, so maybe it had just never been raided. Wanting to, one, get out of these clothes and, two, get some extra fabric for bandages, you neatly stepped inside.

You ended up finding an assortment of clothes, and for once you actually got to pick. Grabbing a bag off the floor that could hang across your chest, you filled it with fabric (including little onesies you'd found). And right then and there, you stripped down, slipping both new clothes on you and Judith.

It was refreshing, not really like a shower would be at this point but... close enough.

Slowly exiting, you took out two more walkers and continued out of the street -generally in the same direction the stranger had provided you with. You were just going by roads and by paths. Assumedly, if this place was safe, it would be some kind of substantial building.

Like the prison was, your mind chimed. You bit back the bile in your throat.

It went on that until night fell, there was no shelter nearby, so you continued on foot. Not that you'd sleep anyway, especially with Judith. You couldn't chance a wink.

It was the early morning then, and you felt the heaviness in your eyes. But you'd experienced much, much worse. You were kind of running a little on the adrenaline of everything. That being said, you had slept a little.

You'd found a house, boarded up. For safety reasons, you walked all the way up the stairs to the furthest bedroom and locked the door. You woke up to Judith crying and hadn't slept since.

What you hadn't expected, was to see two men walking along the road -crisply dressed and oddly clean. You hid behind a tree, peeking out at the two of them -they were talking about something.

"I think we'll give it another few days."

"How many?"

"Maybe two," one of the men spoke, "-we have to get back to Alexandria at some point-"

You stilled, hands brushing up against the bark of the tree. It scraped your fingers a moment.

You tailed them for a bit, watching what weapons they had (if they did) and figuring out what they were doing in general. They seemed to be limited to this area, like they were expecting something or maybe watching something, you didn't really know. They didn't say much.

You waited for them to completely let their guard down. Realistically, you could've taken them, probably. But you didn't chance anything, not with Judith; if you died, she would have nobody. Or at least, right now she would.

It was later in the day, lunch maybe based on the fact that they were eating. One's back to you, you realize this to be the perfect moment. You could take a hostage and demand answers.

Gently kissing Judith's head, you took a deep breath.

And you acted instinctively, pulling out your axe, and jumping behind him. With one fluid move, you pulled your axe in front of his neck. The vein, the vein, the vein-

The other man jumped, "Shit-"

"Don't move," you warned, and the man stalled in place -hands gently raised in the air.

He looked so unaffected from the world, how was he even-

"What do you want from us?" He nearly pleaded, and something in your resolve faltered but you stayed firm, "-Food? Weapons? We- Shit, take it all-"

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to control your emotion. Judith, Judith, Judith-

"Where is Alexandria?"

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #its griming time #stuff n' thangs #rick grimes x you #rick grimes x y/n #ricky dicky doo dah grimes #twd #twd rick #rick grimes x y/n fanfiction #the nurse #nurse!reader #doctor!reader #the lover

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starrystormwritings · 1 year ago

Text

Something's Off

Master List <3 Request List <3 Criminal Minds Master List

Spencer Reid x Reader

A/n: Hey so I haven't written anything in over a year and this is my first criminal minds thing ever so any criticism is welcomed. This was written at 3am so any bad grammar or writing can be excused in my opinion lol. Please consider sending me some requests or ideas for anything on my request list, I'm desperate to get back to being active on here but I'm running low on ideas.

Summary: You and Spencer work at the BAU and after a lapse in Spencer's judgment you end up getting hurt.

Warnings: Murder, guns, shooting, stabbing, blood, hospitals, possible death, general criminal minds talk to gruesome murders

Word Count: 2669

(NOT MY GIF)

"There she is, we were starting to think you'd quit on us." Derek joked as me and Spencer walked into the briefing room hand in hand.

After a particularly long and emotional case I had decided to take some time to myself to recover from it.

It had only been a week but in this job that felt like years.

"Yep here I am, no need to worry. I know how much you all missed me." I said with a laugh while sitting down at the round table, Spencer going to grab our coffees.

"Can't argue with that, lover boy over there has been lost without you." Emily said with a laugh smiling at me.

Everyone else had taken their seats as Spencer sat next to me, sliding my coffee in front of me with an excited smile.

"Well as much as I wouldn't use the word lost I have missed having you around here." He blushed lightly, trying to speak in the least awkward manner as he could.

I knew he had missed me at work, everyday he came home to our apartment he'd be glued to my side explaining every detail of the case he'd just gotten back from, wanting to hear my opinions and spend time with me.

As much as hearing about work took away the point of taking time off from it watching Spencer ramble on passionately and excitedly to me was nice.

Plus if I'm being honest with myself I'd be bored without it.

"Six women have been found dead in a suburban town in Texas, all between the ages of twenty to thirty and have appeared within forty-eight hours of each other." Hotch explained whilst Penelope showed the pictures of the crime scenes behind him.

"All girls were found within sixteen hours of being deceased and had already been missing for more than a day, meaning he keeps them before murdering them. He has stabbed them all once in the abdomen, careful not to hit any vital organs so the body doesn't shut down. Instead he stabs them to leave them to slowly bleed out." Penelope added whilst handing folders of information out to everyone.

"So it's likely he already has another girl with him now?" Rossi asked with a frown as he flicked his folder open.

"More than likely yes, and with and increasing confidence and skill set we can only assume he's going to continue at a quicker or more brutal pace the longer he's able to." Spencer added, looking to the group with a smile that matched nothing that he just said.

I sighed and looked at the images in front of me, at least this case seemed fairly simple in comparison to some of what we've had to face.

~~~

"This guy is most likely a social younger man who holds enough respect and familiarity within the area for people to feel comfortable enough to get into his vehicle alone at night. He doesn't force his victims to comply they willingly trust him until it's too late due to his natural charm and charisma. Then he holds them for a day before killing and disposing of them. He doesn't hurt them in their time of captivity, meaning he most likely feels remorse or is unsure of his actions, but the thrill of the kill is to enticing for him to let them go. He's confident within his ability to kill, shown in the slow and precise manner he takes in the murder. He is most likely a local who has lived here his whole life due to his knowledge of the area and the trust everyone has toward him. He also appears confident in his ability to not be caught, since he dumps the bodies rather than hiding them. He believes he's more intelligent than most people and above the law, and his high IQ helps fuel this narcissistic ideal he has of himself. That is all thank you." Hotch walks away from the room of police officers who were noting down his profile, gesturing to Emily, Rossi and Derek to follow him into an interrogation room.

I jumped up from the table I was sat on and gathered my notes from next to me.

"I just don't understand how we could have such a sick individual in our community doing this to women. It's just shocking to me." Officer Davis said from beside me.

He was the head officer on the case and the chief of police in this town, he'd been assisting me and Spencer in the last few hours with trying to create an idea of where to begin looking.

"Yeah it always comes as a shock when a member of your community causes something like this." I offered him a small smile whilst gathering my stuff to head over to Spencer, Officer Davis following closely behind me.

"I just can't believe something like this could happen here."

"Can you think of any groups of people within the community that hold a lot of respect and trust? Like public speakers, church groups, large charity groups or public helpers?" I asked him flicking to the page of possible careers I had, smiling at Spencer as I settled my stuff next to him.

"Well apart from the obvious like the police and fire force, I couldn't think of anything. We're quite a religious area but none of our churches have any well known priests that everyone would know, we have too many churches and priests for people to form personal connections with. Although we do have a large neighbourhood watch group. They do nightly patrols in cars around the streets and main roads. They're a very large group of people."

Spencer's head shot up at the last bit. "Do they have a known leader people would know? Or any type of uniform they wear to be recognisable?" He asked Davis while scribbling something on his whiteboard.

"Not uniforms no. Although, the patrol cars they use do have these stick on lights they use to be recognisable. Pauls the leader, he tells people when their needed for patrol."

"So our unsub could be a patrol member, approaching women in his car so they know he's apart of the watch group and trust him enough to get into the car without any hesitation!" Spencer said turning to Davis "I need a list of names of the leaders of the group."

I opened my phone, calling Penelope "I'll get a list of the people on patrol the nights that these girls were taken, see if there's anyone that was working every night."

~~~

Less than a day, that's all we had to find this woman before it was too late.

I was stood in an office with Spencer and Rossi, bouncing ideas off of each other, hoping something stuck.

"Penelope got him." Derek said with a smile walking into the room.

"Paul Fredrick, thirty-five years old, lived here his whole life, was arrested ten years ago for an assault against an twenty-one year old woman, and in charge of the neighbourhood watch patrol schedule." Spencer read from the paper Derek just handed him.

"Hotch, Emily and that detective are already heading there. We need to go this girl probably hasn't got that long left." Derek said gesturing us out of the door quickly.

~~~

"He's confessed." Spencer said with a smile, kissing me on the head as he took a seat next to me.

I'd been sat in this empty office in the police station for an hour now, something just doesn't feel right.

"Really? Doesn't that seem strange to you? I mean according to the profile this guy is confident and intelligent. Surly he wouldn't confess after an hour of interrogation." I bit my lip lightly as I re-read my notes again and again.

"Well sometimes the profile isn't completely correct. Plus they found the girl in an abandoned warehouse a ten minute drive away from his house." Spencer shrugged "he isn't as confident as the profile indicates, he was also quite anxious and stressed when confronted which was surprising, but the evidence points to him and he's confessed. All of the logic adds up."

"I guess. I just don't feel right." I sigh and look up to him with a frown.

He matches my expression and stands up, kissing my forehead lightly before collecting his stuff. "You probably just need some rest it's been a long weekend. The plane leaves in an hour, I'll go collect our stuff for us."

He gave me one more smile before leaving the room. As I glanced after him I saw the rest of the station basically empty and the time was three in the morning.

With another sigh I gathered my stuff and headed out the door. Maybe ten minutes outside in the fresh air would chill me out.

"Everything alright?" A voice from behind me asked, making me jump.

"Davis hi you scared me." I said with a laugh, holding the door for him as we both walked outside. "Everything's okay yeah I'm just rethinking the case."

"What's bothering you about it?" He asked, lighting himself a cigarette.

"I don't know, the whole thing just seems off, I mean why would Fredrick confess so quickly? He doesn't match the profile at all, he's awkward and of a lower intelligence. I just don't see how he could do this alone. Plus why would he take these woman to an abandoned warehouse that could be accessed to the public or the police whenever rather than his own house? He lived alone in an remote area with no neighbours. It just doesn't add up." I shrugged and pulled my arms closer to me since the cold was nipping at my arms.

All of a sudden I felt a blunt pain hit the side of my head.

~~~

(Spencers pov)

"Everything alright kid?" Derek asks me with a concerned look.

"Yeah, I'm just worried about Y/n." I reply, fidgeting with my fingers as I talk "She's been questioning the case and I'm starting to think she might've been onto something."

"What do you mean?"

"Well didn't Fredrick seem odd to you? He had a low IQ and no charisma at all, even if you knew of him I doubt many people would willingly get into his car. Plus he transported the girls for no reason, he put himself at risk by doing it in that warehouse rather than his own home. There's no way he could've done this alone."

"What are you getting at here kid?"

"Well didn't he come across to you as more of a submissive personality?"

"You think we have two unsubs here? A team?"

I shook my head quickly calling Y/n as I spoke.

"No not a specifically a team. A dominant who lured the girls and killed them, and a submissive who picked the girls out, disposed of the bodies and took the fall. It would make sense, Fredrick was to easy to find, this unsub would be to intelligent to be this simple. Fredrick was on patrol the nights the girls were taken, he most likely saw them first and then alerted the other unsub of them so he could then take them."

"Well if this unsub was so intelligent how come it was so easy to find his partner?"

The phone rang out, that's strange Y/n always picks up.

"He wanted us to. He pointed us in that direction to throw us off, he didn't need Fredrick and he knew he would stay loyal if he was caught. He wanted us to catch Fredrick so we'd leave."

Derek's eyes went wide as he got his phone out of his phone to call someone.

"You know who told us about the neighbourhood watch and the list of likely suspects?"

Derek asked with a frown.

"Davis."

~~~

"Has anyone seen Y/n?" I asked as I walked into the room that the rest of the team were in.

They all looked at me with worried expressions as Emily handed me my bulletproof vest.

"According to the CCTV she was last seen leaving the station with Officer Davis" Hotch said clearing his throat, trying to remain stern and collected even though he was as distraught as the rest of the team.

"What?" my face fell as I scanned the room, everyone either looking away from me or straight at me with concern.

Derek's phone beeped and everyone's heads snapped up to look at him as he stood. "Pen's got an address, lets go."

~~~

"FBI!" Derek yelled as he kicked down the door, letting himself into the house as I followed behind, gun trained ahead of me.

"What am I looking for here Reid?" he asked, clearing the first room.

"A basement most likely." I said walking ahead, spotting a door that appeared to be heading downstairs.

I nodded my head toward it and Derek went ahead, opening it slowly and walking down.

I followed close behind him, a loud smash was heard from in front of us and before I could even see Derek shot, leaving Davis on the floor.

"He tried to run, threw something glass at me." Derek said, gesturing to the blood from the new cut on his arm.

"Can you see her anywhere?" I pushed in front of him as he flicked on the light switch.

I scanned the room before my eyes landed on her figure in the corner, laying on the floor looking pale and bleeding from somewhere. "Y/N!" I ran over there, putting my gun away as Derek called for a medic through the radio.

"Hey your going to be okay. I'm so sorry, I should've listened I'm so sorry. Y/n please. Come on open your eyes. Please..." I felt Derek's hand on my shoulder as I started to cry.

Before I could comprehend what was happening a group of medics came in and surrounded her, Derek pulling me out of the room.

~~~

I paced the hospital waiting room floor, it had been hours and we'd heard nothing.

Emily was asleep on two chairs. Hotch was sat looking at the floor, tapping his foot anxiously. Rossi had been standing up to speak to the receptionist every ten minuets, and Derek had be constantly picking up calls from Penelope who had kept ringing for updates despite Derek promising to call her as soon as we knew.

And I had basically paced a hole through the floor.

"Reid sit down and eat something. Stop punishing yourself." Hotch said with a frown.

I shook my head and continued pacing. "I can't, I should've listened to her, or stayed with her. I didn't even try first aid I just froze when I saw her..." I replied, voice cracking.

A doctor cleared his throat behind us "Y/n L/n?"

We all looked up at him with matching worried expressions.

I held my breath as we waited for him to say something.

"She was stabbed in the abdomen but luckily suffered no trauma to any organs. She's lost a lot of blood but she's going to be okay. She's just woken up so she's a bit out of it but she can take one visitor."

I felt my whole body relax as I took a breath.

"She's okay?" I asked again with a shaky breath.

Derek put his hand on my shoulder and nodded with a smile "She's going to be okay kid."

I let out a little sob and nodded my head with a small smile.

"Reid you should go see her, let her know we're all here." Hotch said patting my other shoulder.

I nodded at both of them and followed after the doctor, taking a seat next to her bed, holding her hand in mine as carefully as I could.

She opened her eyes, slowly turning her head to look at me.

Somehow she was still smiling as bright as ever, provoking my face to mirror hers on instinct.

"Hey you." she said with a small laugh.

"Hi." I kissed her knuckles, a few tears escaping my eyes as I looked at her.

"Why're you crying? I'm the one who's be stabbed dumbass." she joked with a small laugh, causing me to chuckle.

"I love you so much, don't you ever do this again. I really thought I'd lost you. I don't know what I would've done."

"I'll try my best to stay alive then, just for you Spence."

She smiled sweetly at me with another small laugh, I admired her face for a second before leaning in to kiss her lips softly.

#fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer read x y/n #spencer reid x you #x reader #mathew gray gubler

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pseudowho · 9 months ago

Text

Pen-Pals

He was your first boyfriend. You were his first real connection with someone outside the Jujutsu world. And it's not that he intended to catfish you...he really didn't.

Note: THIS IS NOT A "FURRY" STORY. ITS A HEARTWARMING TALE ABOUT THE READER FINDING A PLACE IN JUJUTSU SOCIETY, THROUGH HER PENPAL, PANDA 🐼

SFW, fluff, a bit of angst.

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You were fifteen, when you got your first boyfriend.

At least-- you saw him that way. He was your penpal, first. Your...oddity had left you lonely. Isolated. Friendships were hard, and functioning like you didn't see monsters on every street corner, every underpass, was even harder.

With numerous psychological assessments before the age of ten, seeing your mother and father in tears outside the Psychiatrist's office...no. It would not do. You told nobody else after that, simply living in your haunted little world, head down, desperate not to be noticed by them.

You soothed yourself to sleep every night, imagining lilac clouds and fields of wildflowers, instead of blackened fingers closing, bone-brittle, round the edges of your wardrobe.

He went by 'Panda'-- a cute pseudonym, and how he had signed off all of his letters, ever since you had matched with him on the Pen Pal Seeker website.

And how you loved him. Despite his dreadful handwriting, his thoughts were sincere, warm without being patronising, funny and abstract in the most oddly conversational way. He poured his heart out to you, and you to him. You yearned to know him better, but delighted in the mystery of a secret lover.

Panda had just a father, one older brother and one older sister. He went to a boarding school. He took hand-to-hand combat as a sport. His best friend was quiet, but tough and kind.

And he saw the monsters too. At first you were doubtful, your pen hesitating on the page. Do I tell him? He'll think I'm a freak. I probably won't even get a letter back...you told yourself all this, as you wrote yourself bare to him. As you posted the letter. As you waited, chewing your nails to stubs, certain you had royally screwed up.

The clatter of the letter box. Your frantic footsteps tumbling down the stairs, shoving your father aside-- "hey kiddo, where's the fire?"-- to reach the stack of post first, seeing your name in his hand--

...and his words. Oh, you loved him so.

You're not alone! I can see them too. Lots of us can at my school. Try not to let them notice you looking...

You kicked backwards onto your bed, the letter pressed to your chest, one arm over your eyes as you kicked your feet in glee, trying not to cry.

It was settled-- you had to know him. You had to meet him.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Skipping school the next day, you felt like everyone around you on the street knew it. You felt like a criminal, hitching your bag over one shoulder, keeping your gaze downwards as you spent your savings on a train ticket to Tokyo.

The train journey was full of blushing imagination, running through how you would greet him, again and again and again, each time stupider and more embarrassing than the last.

Hey, Panda, it's me. Hi Panda...how've you been? Boo! Ahaha just kidding...unless--

As your footsteps carried you along your phone map, glancing up and down to see yourself wander into the tree-shade hush of outer-Tokyo...your coming here became a worse and worse idea.

What were you thinking? Panda was going to think you were absolutely mad! You didn't even know his real name. He might have been some sixty year old creep just pretending to be a kid like you. What if he wrote to loads of girls? What if he gave you one look and was embarrassed by what he had been writing to? What--

You stood at huge wooden gates, encircling a beautiful stack of traditional Japanese buildings, winding away up the rolling hills. Your finger hovered over a buzzer. You tasted copper as your teeth bit into your lip, bubbling over with internal conflict, before stabbing down on the buzzer, greeted by a shrill ringing.

A voice-- "Name, please?"

You stuttered, announcing your name. Silence on the other line. You elaborated.

"Panda, uhm-- I'm here to see Panda. About...about the monsters. I'm...I'm a friend."

Silence...clickcrrreeeeeeeak.

You stepped back, gripping your bag like a shield as the gates heaved slowly open. Hesitant footsteps crunched over gravel, carrying you in. You had not thought about the particulars of actually finding Panda, and you gazed around you, stumped.

You stood to attention, seeing two figures move down the twisting stepped path ahead of you. A girl, stern, bespectacled. A boy, tired-looking but friendly, with big dark eyes and a white funnel-neck collar. They saw you, and shared a glance, before stepping over. The gates swung closed behind you.

The girl didn't waste any time; "How do you know Panda?" she demanded, one hand on her hip, eyes narrow through her glasses. You gulped, feeling dizzy from the volume of strange power rolling off the boy beside her.

"I...we...he writes to me. To each other. We write to each other." The boy's eyebrows quirked up in surprise. He looked to the girl with a light smile. The girl scowled.

"I didn't know Panda could write," she grumbled. You blinked, once, confused and beginning to feel nauseous, the boy's presence alone crushing in on you--

"Hey..." the boy started gently, stepping closer to you, "...maybe-- maybe you should go? Panda's not really good to see anyone right now-- oh hey-- Maki--"

You had lurched sideways, retching on the gravel as the boy held you gently round the waist. Maki looked unaffected, continuing to frown down at you as you sniffled, hiccuping, mortified, of course he didn't want to see you--

"I'm sorry you're right, I should just-- I'll go I just--" you babbled, standing and stepping back, the boy letting go of you hesitantly, warm brown eyes cut with genuine concern, "--he just-- he said he could see the monsters like me and I--"

The boy and the girl both paused, mouths dropping open in...realisation? The girl, Maki, slapped the boy on the shoulder with the back of her hand, and he crumpled like wet tissue; "Dull it down Yuuta...you're making her sick."

"I think...you should come with us, and uhm....meet Panda," Yuuta offered, rubbing his shoulder and smiling softly at you. You sniffled, glancing between them both.

"...really?" Your heart clenched, hopeful, excited.

Walking between them, up the twisting path, you did not yet realise you had found your new home.

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"How much do you...know about Panda?" Maki asked, seated opposite you in a dusty wood-panelled classroom.

"Oh, uhm...he goes to this school. He has an older brother, an older sister, he practices martial arts..." you continued to reel off your relationship with him, enclyclopedic. At each point, Maki seemed to be waiting for something that never came. Her face was set in a grim line.

"Panda's not like the rest of us," she stated, blunt, "And I don't know if you'll--"

The door slid open. Yuuta poked his head in, catching your eye with an uncertain smile.

"Panda's here. He can't wait to meet you." You stood up, smoothing your skirt, twisting your hands together, straightening your hair. Maki and Yuuta glanced apprehensively to each other.

"Just, uh...just don't scream, yeah?" You frowned at Yuuta, laughing;

"Why would I scre--"

As a full-grown Panda walked into the classroom, shrieks rang out of the windows across Jujutsu High.

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Sat by the little brook, you sobbed your heart out, your face being gently dried by an enormous black and white paw, the other round your shoulder, holding you against--

"-- a literal Panda! You're a fucking Panda!"

Maki shook her head disapprovingly behind you both, glaring at Panda; "I can't believe you pretended to be human--"

Panda gaped, appalled, "I never told her I was human!" Yuuta laughed into his hand, struck by the bizarreness of the situation.

"Of course she'd assume you're human--"

"-- I don't like to assume what you humans think, but anyway, she's smart and kind and I knew she wouldn't judge-- stop laughing, Okkotsu-- can you guys just leave us alone? For a minute?"

You laughed despite yourself, patting Panda's enormous paw, engulfed in his behemoth furry embrace. Yuuta stood, gently dragging a still protesting Maki away. Silence fell. The river whispered down the stones. The sunlight softened in the rustling leaves.

"...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to mislead you. I just...liked talking to you. I've never had someone who-- who didn't know what I-- ...I'm sorry," Panda finished, weakly. You blinked back tears, wiping your nose.

"...it's okay. I'm the same. And you're the best person I-- my favourite person-- you've helped me with so much and I love you--" Panda's ears perked, and he looked down at you with joy.

He continued, gruff with emotion; "It's the right thing that you're here, though. You need to learn more about these monsters. Maybe you can even stay."

It was your turn to look at Panda with joy.

You sat in companionable silence, delighting in the company of a new friend. You hesitated again, your cheeks scattered with pink.

"Can you uhm...can I still say you were my first boyfriend, though?"

Oh. If pandas could blush.

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Many years later, tied to a chair in the dank Curse users' hideout you had infiltrated, you smirked to see the men around you step backwards from the door in horror.

Beyond the door, an incoherent din of bestial roars, men screaming, furniture smashing. One of the men beside you squeaked in terror, clapping a hand over his mouth before grabbing you roughly by the face.

"What is-- what is that thing? Out there?" He demanded, shaking with terror. You laughed, your face squished in his hand.

"That's my ex-boyfriend. He's called Panda, he's 6 foot 7, and he's here to fuck you up."

The door flew off its hinges with a metallic bang, and the men around you scrabbled to run for their lives. A hulking mass of black and white filled the doorway.

"What are you guys doin' to my girl, huh?"

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I don't know where this came from, but I love Panda 🐼

#jjk #jujustu kaisen #panda jjk #jjk panda #maki zenin #yuuta okkotsu #Panda x Reader #Never thought I'd make that fucking tag #pseudowho #pseudowho writes fluff #jjk fluff

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upat4amwiththemoon · 2 years ago

Note

helloo! could you write high school wandanat x reader where they’re enemies to lovers? wandanat are already a couple. wandanat and r are part of different friend groups in school, and there’s a lot of tension between the two groups, maybe because of a past event. wandanat and r have a class together and are put in a group, forcing them to work together and spend time with each other. eventually the 3 start to become friends, and end up falling for each other

Group project

Summary: Proximity warms hearts.

Pairing: WandaNat x female!reader

Warnings: everyone is a bit mean, cursing, a bit steamy in the end I suppose

Word count: 3186

a/n: I’m sorry I’m not very good at writing enemies to lovers, so I don’t really know what this is

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore

All parts: part 1, part 2

“Why are they staring at us?” Kate mumbles as she shoves food into her mouth. “They are like, obsessed or something.”

Y/N glances to the direction Kate is staring at. It’s the popular table. No one really understands what their deal is, they just don’t like people who aren’t part of their group. No one knows if they just think they’re better than everyone or if something happened. But at the end of the day, pretty much all the groups are like that.

“I don’t know.” Y/N shrugs, turning back to her lunch. “You look kinda obsessed with them right now.”

Kate looks at Y/N with her mouth open and brows raised. “I am not.”

“Okay.” Y/N mumbles with a slight smile.

“I am not!”

Taking a bite out of her food, Y/N nods slowly, not looking at Kate, but still knowing what kind of look she has in her face. “I heard you.”

Kate humphs, annoyed by the grin on Y/N’s face. She stabs her food and eats as angrily as she can, just to show Y/N the level of annoyance she is at. However, all this just amuses her even more.

“So, you’ll be doing the project with me that Ms Harkness said we’ll do, right?”

“I don’t know anymore.” Kate shrugs. “Maybe I’ll do it with Yelena.”

“Oh, come on. You hate doing school work with Yelena.”

“The only thing she does is slack off.” Dropping her fork to the empty plate, Kate turns to look at Y/N. “I’m doing it with you.”

“Listen up, students!” Ms Harkness claps her hands, quietening down the classroom. “We are trying something different today. I’m going to assign your project’s groups.” The whole class starts groaning and whining, all of them having made plans with their friends already. “I know, I know. This is the ends of the world for you. Anyways,” she takes out a list, “I have the groups written here, so listen closely.”

As Ms Harkness lists off the groups, the students start moving into said groups. The more time goes on without her saying Y/N or Kate’s name, they get excited as the possibility of them being in the same group grows every second.

“Next group. Kate Bishop…” Kate and Y/N’s ears perk up, both waiting anxiously for the latter’s name to appear. “Yelena Belova and Gwen Stacy.”

The two deflate, sending each other disappointed looks before Kate moves from the desk next to Y/N. She looks around the classroom, trying to see which students are still without a group. When she notices everyone but two people with their own groups, her eyes widen.

“And last but not least, Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff and Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Shit.” She whispers to herself. With her luck, of course she gets paired up with the couple. Y/N sees them sitting on the dow in front of her, unmoving, so she grabs her bag and makes her way over to them.

She moves a desk bit closer to them, but far enough so it doesn’t touch either of their desks, and sits down. “Now that all of you have your groups, pick a subject and start working on the project. We’ll be doing it this whole class, but after that it’s a thing you have to do on your own time.” Everyone starts groaning again. “I know, I’m horrible. Start working.”

Before Y/N can even think about saying something, Wanda opens her mouth. “We already decided the topic to be how AI was doomed from the start, because they learn from biased people.”

“Okay.” Y/N mumbles. “Uhm, what should I do?”

Natasha shrugs, opening her laptop. “Just look some info on AI. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Nodding silently, Y/N opens her laptop and starts searching any kind of information on AI and its future. She stays quiet the whole class, not finding any openings in Natasha and Wanda’s conversation.

When the class ends, Y/N’s mood is on the floor. She is not feeling good about the project. “We’re going to our dorm after school ends to work on the project, so see you there, I guess.” Wanda says as she puts her things in her bag.

“Where is your dorm?”

Natasha sighs. “Building B, fourth floor, dorm number 405.” She tells in a quick manner, leaving immediately after.

Y/N looks after them with a dumbfounded look until Kate comes up behind her, wrapping her arms around her neck. “How’d it go?”

“Awful.”

Yelena walks to them, laughing mockingly at Y/N’s misfortune. “Our project is going great.”

“That’s because you didn’t do anything.” Kate frowns, letting go of Y/N’s neck only to lock their arms together. “Me and Gwen did all the work so far. Your contribution was whining.”

Yelena shrugs, following the two as they start walking to their next class. The three are tight together, though out of the two Kate and Y/N are clearly like sisters, because while Yelena has other friends, the pair have stuck together their whole life.

Y/N giggles quietly at their squabbling. They never seemed to agree on anything, but that was just their way of showing that they care about each other.

“Well, at least I don’t have Yelena on my group.”

Scoffing, Yelena punches Y/N’s side lightly.

Standing in front of the dorm room 405, Y/N takes a deep breath. She’s holding one of her fists up in the air, ready to knock. Music can be heard through the door. Wanda and Natasha are already there.

She knocks.

The music quietens down and Wanda opens the door. She says nothing when she sees Y/N, only widens the gap so she can step inside.

“Hi.” Y/N mumbles, almost too quiet for the two to hear. She looks around the room. The two single beds have been pushed together to form one big bed to the left side. There’s a bookcase on the end of it and two desks against the opposite wall.

The floor is neat, it only has a rug on it, but the walls are full of decorations. There’s pictures of people from the school and celebrities, posters of different movies and artists, even some vinyls are pinned to them.

Y/N clears her throat as Wanda goes back to sitting by the desk, right next to Natasha. “Cool room.”

Natasha nods in acknowledgment. Wanda did most of the decorating, but she likes it too. “We don’t have any more chairs, so, like sit on the floor or something.”

Too tired to fight against it, Y/N sits on the floor and takes out her things. “Me and Nat already started on our slides, we thought it’d be best to just do them individually.”

“Okay.”

And so, they start working on the project. Like during the class, Wanda and Natasha discuss points together, while Y/N stays quiet and does her own thing. It’s uncomfortable, but she’s not about to start a conversation with the two.

It goes like this for the next three meetings.

Y/N’s head is laying on the cafeteria table. She’s not feeling too good and the loud conversation going on isn’t helping at all. “Shut up.” The words come out more quiet than she wanted to.

Someone’s hand goes to her neck. “You’re really hot.” Kate frowns.

“Thanks.”

Kate groans and Yelena laughs. With a roll of her eyes, Kate ignores the comment. “I’m serious. Should you even be in school right now?”

“I can’t miss anything, plus I have to go work on the project today.”

“Can’t you skip this one time? I’m sure they won’t mind.” Kate’s hand goes to lay on Y/N’s back, rubbing it softly to bring some comfort.

Y/N scoffs. “Have you seen how they look at me? They’d kill me if I didn’t show up.”

“Well,” Kate cringes, “yeah. Probably.”

“Why do you care?” Yelena speaks up. “You’re a hard worker. You deserve a break, especially when you’re sick.”

“I don’t have time to be sick. Gotta keep my grades high.”

Yelena shakes her head. “You’re crazy.” She mumbles, going back to her lunch.

Once again, Y/N is knocking on Wanda and Natasha’s door. Her nose is stuffed and there’s loud bounding in her head, but she tries her best to ignore it.

Natasha opens the door and lets her in before going back to her seat. It’s the same as it has always been, Natasha and Wanda sitting beside their desks, while Y/N is on the floor.

Y/N isn’t sure if time is moving fast or slow, or if it’s moving at all. She feels like she has been writing forever, but the small clock on the bottom of her laptop screen hasn’t moved in ages. The conversation going on between Natasha and Wanda is muffled. It sounds like they’re much further away than they truly are.

She has been breathing through her mouth for some time, as her nose isn’t letting any air through. Leaning her head against her open palm, Y/N closes her eyes, just for a moment.

“Y/N?” Someone is shaking her shoulder. They’re doing it gently, but to Y/N it feels like her whole body is going through turmoil. “Did you fall asleep?”

Opening her eyes, Y/N sees Wanda in front of her. “Uhm,” she looks around the surroundings, catching up her brain on what’s going on, “no?” She mumbles.

Natasha furrows her brows together. She’s still sitting on her chair, but her attention is fully on Y/N. “Are you okay?”

“I am, yes, sorry.” Lifting up her head, Y/N shakes it to wake herself up. “Sorry.”

The back of Wanda’s hand goes to lay on Y/N’s forehead. It should be surprising, but her brain is too foggy to register it. “I think she’s sick.” Wanda turns to look at Natasha, talking to her rather than half awake Y/N. “Like really sick.”

“Do we have a thermostat?” Natasha mumbles, going to look for one in their bathroom. As she finds it, she brings it to Wanda and crouches down next to her.

Wanda presses on Y/N’s jaw to open her mouth and stick the thermostat under her tongue. Y/N grumbles at the feeling of it, but lets it be there.

When the thermostat beeps, Wanda takes it out, frowning at the number on it. “She has a fever.”

“I’m fine, you guys.” Y/N rubs her forehead, hoping it’ll lessen some of the pressure. “Lets keep working on the project.”

“No.” Natasha glances at the laptop screen, it’s showing the project’s slide show. “You have spelled every other word incorrectly.”

Humming, Y/N squints her eyes to look at the small words on the screen. She frowns as the words don’t come any clearer, realizing she must be sicker than she thought.

“What are we supposed to do?”

“Where are your friends?”

“Kate and Yelena are working on their project in the library in town, I think.” Y/N starts coughing. It racks up her whole body and hurts her throat. She misses the way Natasha and Wanda look at each other.

Wanda helps Y/N up while Natasha cleans up her things. She brings her to their bed, moving the cover so she’s laying under it. “Go to sleep.” She mumbles.

Natasha and Wanda stay by the bed next to Y/N until evening, when Kate comes knocking on their door, worried when Y/N still hasn’t come back to their dorm.

Over a week goes by, during which Y/N heals properly and starts working on the project again. However, after being sick, Natasha and Wanda have started to sit on the floor with Y/N, and even engage in conversations with her.

Now that her mind wasn’t so foggy, she started to notice the little things. Sometimes the couple looked at each other with a certain look when they were with her, it wasn’t bad, so to say, but Y/N doesn’t know what it is. And sometimes their eyes linger on her just a bit too long for it to be considered normal.

Although, all these things make her wonder what it all means, she ignores it all. Or at least tries to.

“Hey, Y/N.” Wanda’s hand sets on Y/N’s shoulder

Kate’s eyes are wide as she watches Y/N turn to Wanda and Natasha. “Yup?” It feels weird to have someone like Wanda touch her, still, she puts on her best smile and tries not to reveal how tense she is.

“We though we should finish the project today, so we can have the weekend free. Is that okay?”

It’s the first time they ask her opinion on their plans.

“Sure.”

Natasha smiles, grabbing Wanda’s hand. “Great, see you later.” The two walk away.

Kate stares at Y/N with an open mouth. She leans closer to her to whisper yell. “They totally have the hots for you!” She laughs quietly, so the other people in the library wouldn’t hear her.

“What?” Y/N’s brows scrunch together as her whole face turns into a grimace. “No they don’t! Are you crazy?”

“Oh, come on. Did you not see they way they were looking at you?” Kate gasps, looking at the book she is currently in the middle of. “This is the perfect lesbian, enemies to lovers story!”

“No, Kate, I’m not in one of your spicy sapphic books.”

Kate raises her brows, glancing at the cover of her book. “You could be.” She mumbles with a shrug. She is pretty sure Y/N looks just like one of the main characters on the book cover, but she denies it every time. Glancing at the clock, she grins. “You better go get ready to go to their dorm and have hot, hot sex with them.” Kate whispers the last part of the sentence.

Y/N stands up with a huff. “I am not going to have hot sex with them!” She says it just a bit too loudly, making someone on the next table turn to look at them. “I’m not having sex with anyone!” Grabbing her bag, Y/N walks out of the library while Kate giggles after her.

Natasha opens the door with a small grin. “Come on in.” Y/N smiles and steps in, sitting to the floor where Wanda is already. She takes out her laptop, getting it ready for working. Natasha sits right next to her, which makes Y/N freeze momentarily.

“Do you usually work even when you’re sick?” Wanda asks suddenly. They haven’t really discussed what happened that day yet, not that Y/N really wanted to talk about it. She’s still mortified that happened. She nods quietly, making Wanda frown. “You really shouldn’t.”

Y/N shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“No.” Wanda says quite assertively. “Don’t do it again.”

“Oh, okay..” Y/N doesn’t know why Wanda is being so…worried, she also doesn’t know why she is agreeing with her. She misses the shared smirk between Wanda and Natasha, turning to her work instead, so she could escape the overwhelming feeling.

They start working on the project, only having two slides left to do. They swap ideas and talk through their points. Y/N actually feels good with them. They’re nice now that they are including her.

It only takes them thirty minutes to finish the project, mostly because Natasha and Wanda hurried it for some reason.

“So,” Wanda starts as they pack away their things, “do you want to stay here for a while?”

Tilting her head, Y/N closes her bag. “Do you want me to stay?” Her question comes out very doubtful.

“Of course, детка.” Natasha’s voice is right by her ear, it makes Y/N shiver. “Why are you so nervous?” She can hear the teasing tone behind her words. Natasha’s hand goes to Y/N’s back, just staying there innocently, though it feels anything but.

Before she can answer, Wanda moves closer to put her hand on Y/N’s bare knee. “You don’t have to be nervous with us, you know that, right?” Her thumb rubs it lightly, happy that Y/N decided to wear a short skirt today.

“Right.” Mumbling, Y/N stares at the hand on her knee intensely. The touch makes her skin feel hot and tingly.

Wanda’s hand travel up to her hip, while Natasha’s goes under Y/N’s shirt. Natasha’s cold hand makes her gasp quietly.

“Can I kiss you?” Wanda’s voice is breathy and sultry.

“I guess.” Y/N’s voice is quiet and anxious, her mind is going everywhere at once and she still isn’t 100% sure if this all is actually happening.

Tutting, Wanda shakes her head. “It’s a yes or no question, sweetheart.”

“Yes.”

Wanda grins. “Good girl.” Her hand goes to Y/N’s neck, pulling her closer to kiss her. It’s soft, but still dominant on Wanda’s side. Natasha starts nipping Y/N neck gently, now moving both of her hands up her shirt.

“Holy shit.” Y/N mumbles when Wanda’s mouth moves from her lips down to her collarbone.

Seeing the opening, Natasha combs her fingers through her hair, gripping it and pulling her head back. She smirks at Y/N’s expression before taking her turn in kissing her. Natasha’s lips are more rough, but it still feels out of this world.

When Natasha pulls away, one of her hands go to rest on Y/N’s throat, while the other wraps around her waist and pulls her close, so Y/N’s back is against her chest.

“Fuck.” Natasha grumbles. “You are so hot.”

All the attention on her is making Y/N feel extremely warm. Her breathing is ragged as Wanda’s hands go under her shirt and up her chest. “We like to be a bit rough, but you don’t mind that, do you?” Wanda looks at Y/N with a grin, holding eye contact with her.

“I don’t mind.”

“Good.” With that, Wanda rips Y/N’s shirt open.

“You had hot sex with them!” Kate squeals right as Y/N steps inside their dorm. “I knew it.” Y/N shushes her, slamming the door closed so no one in the hallway could hear her. “I can’t even be mad at them anymore. Are you like, theirs now?”

“I’m no ones.”

Kate stares at the hickeys littered all over Y/N’s neck and the hoodie, that definitely isn’t hers. “They definitely think you are.” She can’t even keep her giggles in as Y/N shuffles over to her bed, tired by what happened. “They really did a number on you.”

With a loud groan, Y/N throws her pillow blindly towards Kate, who dodges it easily.

“I can’t wait to tell Yelena.”

“Don’t you dare!” But it’s no use, Kate is already out the door.

Y/N sighs, laying her head to the, now pillow-less, mattress. Closing her eyes, she lets a giddy smile come over her face.

She’s definitely theirs now.

1K notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 4 months ago

Text

Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours- Chapter 3: Eris Vanserra, Heir to the Autumn Court

Summary:

5 Times Cassian thought that Azriel had feelings for somebody and then 1 time he finally met the girl his brother was in love with.

Warnings:

Rhys Bashing

Notes:

I put a lot of world building into this. If you don't recognise it from canon, I probably invented. Or I forgot that canon existed.

(thanks to @firefly-graphics for the super pretty dividers!)

Sadly, trying to find out who Azriel’s secret lover was…turned out to be a bit of an impossible feat.

There wasn’t anywhere Cassian could follow along to that Azriel wouldn’t find out about. There was nothing that Azriel was doing that was making it obvious who he was seeing.

It was so annoying that Cassian had no clue what he was supposed to be doing anymore. Why couldn’t it just be easier?

But he wasn’t the General of the Night Court Armies to give up that easily. He was not.

Cassian was going to figure this out.

One way or another.

First things first: Badger Azriel about the stupid Siphons.

“So can I have the name of the blacksmith that you are using?” he asked Azriel without preamble, watching him attentively. Maybe that was gonna give him a hint of what was going on with his brother. Maybe that would be helpful…

“I am not using a blacksmith,” Azriel answered, after a moment. Cassian took in the way the shadows seemed to swirl around him more like they were telling him something and how his hands tightened nearly imperceptively. Azriel didn’t have many tells, but Cassian could see them. He knew him for long enough to know him that well.

So that was the truth. He wasn’t using a blacksmith. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Of course, it wasn’t.

“Then who else did the whole thing with the siphons for you?” he asked curiously. If it wasn’t a blacksmith…though he had snuck a peek of the mechanism that held the siphons in place. It seemed too delicate for a simple blacksmith. More something a goldsmith would use. Definitely not Illyrian by origin.

But where would Azriel have found a goldsmith…

“A friend,” Azriel answered, looking decisively shifty. Interesting.

“The same friend who made Nesta’s hairpins?” A stab in the dark but a good one. Azriel looked less than pleased about it…maybe his friend had something to do with whoever he was seeing… “Where did you meet that friend?” Cassian kept pushing.

“Since when do you care how I spend my time?” Azriel gave back with a sigh.

“Since you got new toys to play with and aren’t sharing,” Cassian shot back immediately.

“I gave Nesta the hairpins, didn’t I?” Azriel defended himself.

He had. Hair pins that Nesta absolutely adored and wore nearly every day these days. Azriel had come through with another set after the first, that one set with moonstones of all things. Nesta loved them just as much as the first set.

“You aren’t answering the question,” Cassian pointed out and Azriel gave him a very pointed look that seemingly told him, Oh really?

“You aren’t going to, are you?” Cassian said with a sigh before he grinned. “Worried he’ll like me more than you?”

The flinch was the last thing he had expected. Yeah, he had hit the bullseye. Unintended though.

“No. Just that I won’t get any more new toys,” Azriel gave back, crossing his arms.

So whoever that friend was…he was important to Azriel. Very important.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” Cassian agreed, even when he was already plotting his next steps. “But I want first dibs whenever he figures out something really cool.”

Next step: Once again get on Rhys’ nerves. Maybe Azriel had told him more than he had told Cassian.

“Do you happen to know the friend that made the siphons for Az? ” he asked Rhy at the next family dinner. Even Lucien and Elain had come over from Day Court, with Elain happy to catch up with her sisters, the Archeron sisters secluded in one corner, milling about before they would all sit down for dinner.

“A friend?” Rhys asked him curiously.

“Not a blacksmith apparently. But with the siphons he got new toys to play with and I don’t get any. So I wanna know,” Cassian admitted easily.

“Well, if Az doesn’t want to share…” Rhys gave back with a shrug. Well, that was helpful. Cassian looked around the room, the inner circles dotted around, but no glimpse of Az.

“Is he coming to dinner?” he wondered.

“He is.” Rhys sounded so sure when he said that.

“Are you sure?” Cassian asked, doubtful. These days, Azriel didn’t come to all of them. Not even half. Sometimes he went but then didn’t stay for dessert or one of his shadows whispered something in his ear and off he went to do something .

It was just another thing in a long line of them that had changed through the years.

Cassian never said anything, because to be the only one in a room full of people that were in happy relationships while he wasn’t probably wasn’t very fun to Azriel.

And then there was that ELeain and Lucien were coming and…putting Azriel in the same room as the female he had been in love with and her mate, just seemed especially cruel.

“He didn’t want to but I changed his mind,” Rhys said evenly.

Oh for cauldron’s sake.

“Do I want to know how you did that?” Cassian asked, holding back a grimace.

He didn’t know what exactly had gone down between Azriel and Rhys…but ever since that one solstice…something had changed. He had never dared to ask, because neither of his brothers had seemed inclined to not rip off his head for daring to voice his thoughts.

So he had hope that it would go away with time. Well, three years on…and it didn’t seem like that was the case.

Azriel came to some family dinners, took part in the annual snowball flights, played with Nyx, treated Rhys with all the respect benefiting a High Lord…and also seemingly turned even quieter. He did his job just as well as he always had, Cassian didn’t doubt it but…there was a distance there that hadn’t been there before.

“I told him that moping around his house didn’t count as plans,” Rhys quipped. “He was not amused.”

Right.

Maybe Az had just wanted to get out of seeing Elain and Lucien.

“Maybe he wasn’t moping around,” Cassian offered. Maybe Azriel had somebody else to spend time with. Somebody that he loved and wanted to court and…

“Ah yes. His secret lover,” Rhys said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Nesta was complaining to Feyre about how that’s all you were talking about,” he answered Cassian’s unspoken question.

“You don’t believe it?” Cassian wondered.

“You think he would be able to keep it a secret from me ?” Rhys asked him, arrogance seeping into his tone. “Besides, he needs to get over himself eventually. I think he can sit through a single dinner.”

Cassian held back a grimace.

Did he think that Azriel would be able to keep a secret from Rhys?

If Azriel thought he had a very good reason for it? Yes. Absolutely. Cassian didn’t even doubt that for a second .

Azriel would go to the end of the world if he thought he could protect somebody he loved.

Cassian just wondered why his brother thought he needed to protect them from Rhys of all people. Why he didn’t tell his family about what was going on?

Cassian would be happy for him. If Azriel showed up tomorrow and told him that he had found somebody he loved and who treated him like he deserved to be treated, Cassian would be happy for him. He wouldn’t fucking care who it was. As long as Azriel was happy, he was happy.

Azriel did show up finally. Quiet and withdrawn, sitting down next to him and more playing with his food than actually eating, but he did show up.

Sitting through that dinner, doing what Rhys demanded of him. Not voicing a word of protest.

What’s he thinking about? Cassian asked Rhys, curious at how Azriel seemed far, far away, lost in thoughts.

Table linens, Rhys gave back.

Tell me that’s a joke.

No. Azriel is thinking about table linens.

Table linens? What was that about now?

The plot thickened.

The table linens didn’t stay the most interesting thing though. That was the sharp repartee Lucien provided while Azriel tried not to be anything but helpful.

Cassian was one more pointed comment away from interfering.

All that Azriel had been doing was trying to help, for cauldron’s sake.

He kept calm for longer than Cassian had thought he would. And then he came around the corner with: “I also know that you are related to one.” Meaning an enchanter and Lucien seemed not happy at all about this.

Lucien’s knife hit his plate, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet room. “How do you even know that?” he hissed.

“I am the spymaster of the Night Court,” Azriel said, his voice quiet but even.

“So what, you care about gossip from 3 centuries ago?” Lucien demanded. “Do you have nothing better to do?”

Cassian opened his mouth but Elain laid a hand on her mate’s. “Luce,” she said, her voice soft, calming him.

“If it’s useful, yes ,” Azriel said, voice quiet.

“How could it possibly be useful to you? Also, he’s dead. Has been dead, for over a century,” Lucien snapped. Azriel stayed quiet. “That didn’t show up in your research, did it?” Lucien sneered.

This was unlike Azriel. If Azriel used something like that, then he would have already known that whoever he had meant was no longer living. This was just…weird.

This was weird.

But what seemingly wasn’t these days?

One of Azriel’s shadows came darting a few moments later, doing that weird thing they sometimes did, where they became nearly bodily for a moment or two and left something for the shadowsinger.

Even after over 500 years of being around Azriel, the shadows were still a mystery to Cassian.

They left a simple note for Azriel, dropping it next to his plate. He reached out to open it without hesitation.

Cassian was curious enough to try and sneak a peek. The only thing he could read was absolute gibberish.

That didn’t seem to be the case for Azriel though. He removed a second sealed note, placed it on the table and then without hesitation put his own note in his empty water glass.

Seconds later, it burst into fire with a bright flame.

Cassian just stared at it.

He had seen that a few times. It was how the Autumn Court sends correspondence, making sure that nobody else but the intended recipient could read it. Destroying the evidence, after it had been seen.

And suddenly…it all made sense!

The reason why Azriel kept a secret from Rhys because it wasn’t just some random female that he had met in Velaris that he was seeing.

It wasn’t a female at all!

It was Eris Vanserra.

That it must be. That would give Azriel a reason to keep the relationship quiet, away from every single one of them, because all of them would have tried to talk him out of that.

Him, Rhys, Mor…

“By the cauldron, you are seeing Eris!” His mouth moved on his own accord, the words leaving his body without his input. It was the pure shock of that realisation that made him spit out the words.

“Cassian!” Nesta complained, long sufferingly, rubbing a hand over her forehead. He could feel her annoyance over the mating bond but he couldn’t help himself.

“The letter just went up in flames! That’s how the Autumn Court sends correspondence!” Cassian defended himself. “You are seeing Eris!” he accused Azriel wide-eyed, who sat frozen in place, still staring at his water glass.

How could Azriel even…How? When had that happened? How had that happened? What had happened?

Cassian had so many questions.

“And because of that, you are now thinking that Azriel has a love affair with Lucien’s half-brother?” Feyre asked haltingly.

“Yes!” It made perfect sense! It did!

Azriel was in love and didn’t want to admit to it! And he was in love with Eris Vanserra.

“No.” Azriel’s voice put a halt to his speculation. It was icy.

“But…” Cassian started, but he didn’t even get out more than the first word because Azriel cut him off.

Azriel could have cut glass with how sharp his voice was.

“Cassian, I have absolutely no idea what makes you think that I am in some kind of romantic relationship with Eris Vanserra but I’ll gladly swear to you on my own life, that that is not happening in a million years. And Eris was not the one writing me.”

Oh.

“Who was writing to you then?” Rhys asked, curiously. “Must be somebody from Autumn.”

True. Maybe it was Eris after all!

“I know somebody that knows somebody,” Azriel repeated, picking up the other note and handing it to Cassian with a glance at Lucien. Cassian handed it over. The handwriting was elegant and loopy, the note closed with a wax seal, showing a stylised O surrounded by…something that he couldn’t place. “An enchantress is willing to meet you tomorrow. Bright and Early,” Azriel explained to Lucien.

That wasn’t what Cassian had expected. It was the exact opposite, to be honest.

No secret relationship with Eris after all? Just some message from Azriel to get Lucien the enchantress he needed?

After how snippy Lucien had been with Azriel, Cassian was surprised that Az had even bothered to do that. It would suit Lucien fine if Az didn’t even bother helping him. He could just keep his whirring eye.

Especially when Azriel had never even done anything . He had been nothing but supportive of Lucien and Elain’s relationship. Hadn’t said a single thing against it. Done nothing. Attended their wedding quietly and then left as soon as it was polite to do so.

Whatever Lucien’s problem with him was these days…Azriel had done nothing to deserve his ire.

Lucien hesitated at taking the note. Cassian wanted to roll his eyes. Like Azriel would curse it.

“If I wanted you dead, the plan would be a lot less convoluted. Just for your information,” Azriel pointed out, his tone even.

Lucien finally took the note, glanced at it, and Cassian watched him swallow.

“Where did you meet her?” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

“I know somebody that knows somebody,” Azriel repeated. “That’s my job. And that reminds me, I have to go.” And there he was, already standing up, not even having eaten half a plate.

“So soon?” Feyre asked, sounding surprised.

“I have plans,” Azriel didn’t seem willing to share more than that. Still, Feyre watched him, curiosity painting her gentle features.

“What kind of plans?” She asked. Feyre and Nesta were probably the only two who could ask him a question like that and not get their head bitten off.

“The kind of plans that I am not willing to change.”

He had never heard Azriel’s voice quite like that. There was no use to argue with him. Not when he sounded like that.

And off he went, disappearing again.

The mystery was still unsolved.

“ Eris ? Really, Cassian?” Rhys asked with a sigh.

“Excuse me, it made perfect sense!” Cassian defended himself. It did! It made sense!

“It did not,” Nesta snorted, for once agreeing with her brother-in-law. “Why, Cassian?”

He pouted.

“What enchantress did he find for you?” Rhys asked Lucien curiously.

“My cousin,” Lucien answered with a sigh. “She has been living around here for…a hundred years, I think. Give or take a few.” He turned to Cassian. “Though I still wonder how did you come up with Azriel seeing my brother?”

“Cassian thinks that Azriel has a secret lover,” Nesta answered the question. “Eris is the latest of his theories. Disproven once again.”

He glared at his made.

“I’ll figure it out,” he said tightly.

He would.

So it wasn’t Eris Vanserra. It must be something or somebody else. The question was just who.

#Azriel Fanfiction #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #my writing #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #Romance is not dead if you keep it just yours #A Court of Gold and Shadows

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