#having loved the books for 4 years before the game just did so much to destroy me

[hivemuthur]

The Game of Teaching Body - Ch. 5.

viktorxfemale!reader mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes)

AU university, AU modern era, slow burn, frenemies to lovers, teasing, pinning, banter, eventual romance and therefore smut, Viktor is simultaneously a menace and needs a hug, TA Viktor

Ch.1. | Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12.

word count: 5,4K

tag: #the game of teaching body

summary: Viktor discovers this thing called feelings and doesn't like it. Also a small tw, as he is a bit mean in this chapter. Another also: if you read my other multichapter, you will discover that Angus and Ambrose travel through all my AUs as cameos :') Besides that, I am slowly learning how to phase out the use of Y/N, so with each chapter there will be less and less.

Cross-posted on AO3 + POV3rd Person Version

—

You sat cross-legged on your bed, absentmindedly picking at the seam of your pyjama bottoms as Sue knelt by the bed frame, painting her nails. You knew you had to tell her, especially after almost an entire week of brooding, miserable sighs, and coming up with new expert ways to avoid Viktor.

“So… it was about him all this time? I should’ve known,” Sue said, her tone analytical, as though piecing together all of your encounters with Viktor since the beginning of the year. When she thought about it with her science brain, it all slotted together seamlessly, though the crease in her brow betrayed her concern.

You gave a small huff. “Even I didn’t know,” you said quietly, though who were you kidding? You knew—you just didn’t want to admit it. The truth was, Viktor’s rejection had been a big blow. Not because you didn’t handle rejection well—you were usually the one doing the rejecting, as frankly, people terrified you most of the time. You felt bad for underestimating him. You had presumed Viktor was lonely and would welcome someone willing to get to know him better.

You’d been oblivious to all the hungry glances he received in the corridors, the girls giggling as he passed by them with his nose in a book. The way people looked at him when he was flushed from alcohol, his accent slurring slightly, occasionally drawing words in his native language.

You were also oblivious to how all those things about him made you feel, and you kept telling yourself you had a special intellectual connection that came before all of that. And it was a terrible lie, because when you thought of him now, the first things that came to mind were his long fingers, the way he formulated sentences, and his long eyelashes.

“Earth to Y/N?” Sue’s voice snapped you out of the palace of your mind. “Have you tried talking to him?”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “Yes, and it went dandy. He told me he got carried away, and I told him he was a wanker. We shook on it and lived happily ever after.”

“Y/N, don’t do that with me.” Sue placed her hand on your foot, smearing some of her freshly painted nails on the bedsheet in the process. “I’m sorry I left you alone. I didn’t know it was—this big.”

“I’m only telling you about this now because I’m only able to talk about it now. You wouldn’t have been able to do much before,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Besides…” You trailed off, looking down at your hands. “I’m glad at least one of us is happy.”

“What did Hale say?” Sue asked, curious to know what kind of ancient wisdom Hale had stored up for the event of a heartbreak.

“Oh, he doesn’t know yet,” you whined, hiding your head in your knees. “He has a very scary dad side that I’m not ready to unleash just yet.” Seeing the questioning look on her face, you added, “Sue, I can see him in my head going to Viktor to have a chat about hurting the love of his life. I don’t think I can handle that yet. Besides…” You sighed reluctantly. “It’s Hale who keeps telling me I’m the queen of the world when I’m clearly not.”

“Alright, that’s just unhealthy. You are a fucking queen of the world. Not even a month ago you did an impromptu guest star spot in a musical in front of, like, five hundred people.” It was much less than that, but Sue wasn’t very good with numbers. “And seeing you turning inside out over some sad fart makes my skin crawl.”

“Is that what we’re calling him now? Sad fart?” you chuckled despite yourself. You weren’t entirely sold on the “fart” part, but you couldn’t shake Viktor’s sad image from that evening in the lab. The way he’d looked so tired and flinched every time you snapped at him. The way his brows furrowed, and he lowered his eyes. The way he’d tried to stop you, and you wouldn’t let him.

Sue’s hand moved to your knee. “Yes. Sad fart it is,” she grinned at you shyly. “How long do you need before I take you out, shower you in love and compliments, and find you a cute boy to hang out with to make Viktor’s blood boil?”

“Give me twenty minutes,” you sighed, watching Sue’s eyebrows waggle at you.

She didn’t find you a boy, but the two of you got ridiculously drunk that night and danced around in the courtyard fountain to Kate Bush, still in your pyjamas. A few lights in the building flickered on, including the one in the TA’s office—though neither of you noticed. It was obscenely cold, and a security guard tried to chase you down campus as you hid under the workbench in the lab. You returned to your room wet and giggling, minus one of your shoes.

***

A week later, the pub was packed with students blowing off steam before the next round of assignments loomed. You sipped your cider as Hale leaned across you to steal a handful of crisps, Sue laughing at his antics. You’d run into Viktor, Jayce, and Mel, and decided to act like an adult by accepting Mel’s invitation to your group’s usual spot by the fireplace.

“See, Viktor, this is where you go wrong,” Mel teased from across the bowl of breadsticks, wagging her finger at him. “You never give us the gossip. Jayce and I are still waiting to hear who left that very telling mark on your lip.”

Jayce grinned, raising his pint. “Yeah, man. We were taking bets. I was sure it’d be some PhD student. Mel thinks it was a theatre kid.”

Viktor’s smile was tight, his fingers curling around his glass. “I assure you, it’s nothing worth betting on.” He couldn’t think of anything worse happening in this moment.

“Very mysterious,” Mel sang, her eyes narrowing. “Did you actually kiss someone, or did you just hit yourself in a drunken slur?” She pushed too far this time, as Jayce hissed and pressed a hand to her shoulder, signalling her to back off before Viktor snapped her neck.

You smirked, hiding it behind your drink. It was almost satisfying watching Viktor squirm under Mel’s playful interrogation. Almost. But the mention of it “not being worth betting on” made your stomach twist slightly. Before you could think of a cutting remark to add, a voice interrupted.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see a tall, sandy-haired student standing by your group, his expression nervous but determined. You blinked in recognition.

“Angus, right?” He exhaled in relief, probably because he wasn’t prepared to remind you how the two of you might have known each other. Encouraged, he crouched to level with you.

“Yeah. I, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks colouring. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something since Open Days, but I never got the chance.” He hesitated, glancing nervously at your friends.

Hale raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the show. He had learned about the mishap with Viktor shortly after Sue. He’d made a dramatic fuss about being the second to receive the news, swore revenge on the vile "sad fart" who had hurt the love of his life, and promised to keep you safe till the end of his days.

“I was wondering if you’d like to grab coffee sometime?” Angus finished, his voice steady despite the flush creeping up his neck.

Your lips parted in surprise. You glanced at Sue, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. “Sure,” you said, smiling. “That sounds nice.” Actually, what the hell. You could have coffee with Angus.

Angus beamed, pulling out his phone. You gave him your number, aware of Mel’s approving smirk from across the table. As Angus walked away, Mel leaned in. “Finally, someone with taste. Well done.”

You laughed lightly, but your gaze flickered to Viktor. His expression was carefully neutral, but the tension in his jaw was unmistakable. A moment later, he stood. “I think I’ll call it a night,” he said, tapping his cane against the floor. “Leg’s acting up.”

“Aw, come on,” Jayce said. “You’ve only had one drink!”

“Some of us value our health, Jayce,” Viktor replied, his tone dry. “I’ll see you all in class.”

As he was leaving, you caught the stiff line of his shoulders and the slight unevenness of his gait. For a moment, you considered following him, but you stayed put.

Viktor walked back to the dorm, the clinking of his cane against the tile floor echoing in the quiet hallway. His mind was far from the dimly lit pub he’d just left behind. No, it was still wrapped around the conversation, the questions, and that damn mark on his lip. The one that made his heart sink the day he woke up to find it had faded completely. It should have been nothing. Nothing more than a harmless tease from Mel, a drunken mistake he could brush off with a wry smile. Yet, it lingered in his mind, gnawing at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

Who left the mark on my lip?

The question had come out of nowhere, but it felt like it had pierced right through the veneer of calm he usually wore. Viktor had been careful, so careful about keeping his emotions in check, about staying distant. But every time someone mentioned the kiss—the touch—it reminded him of something he couldn’t define.

He paused outside his dorm room door, staring at the worn wood as his hand hovered over the knob.

What did I expect?

He had spent years learning to shut off the noise, to keep his focus solely on his work. He had indulged in a few distractions in the past, each one a failure. Yet, every time you were near, it was like something else tugged at him, pulling him off course. It had started with your questions in class, your jokes, the way you always seemed to say just the right thing—or just the wrong thing, depending on how one looked at it. You were the kind of person who got under his skin without even trying, and Viktor hated it.

He entered the room, tossing his coat onto the chair by his desk and walking over to the window. The city lights below flickered in the distance, the sounds of the busy campus fading as he closed the blinds. He sank into the armchair by the window, resting his cane beside him.

Angus.

The thought of him—that stupid student asking you out so casually—caused a familiar tightness in Viktor’s chest. There was no reason for him to feel threatened. He didn’t care about your personal life, didn’t care who you decided to spend time with. Yet, the image of you smiling at Angus—so effortlessly, so innocently—made something shift deep inside him.

The way he’d felt leaving the pub, the way his muscles had tightened when you accepted the offer to grab coffee with Angus, was all so... foreign to him. He wasn’t supposed to care. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

But Viktor had learned long ago that desire wasn’t so easily suppressed.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the silence of the room thick and suffocating. His mind wandered back to the pub, to the way you had laughed with your friends, how your smile had lit up the room when Angus had approached you. He hadn’t expected it to affect him this much. He had expected to walk out, let it go, but instead, he’d felt something stir in him—a jealousy, perhaps? But why? You weren’t his.

The stupid part of Viktor wanted to fight back. To make you squirm and run back to him, so this time it would be him who left a mark on your lips and left you to deal with Mel’s questions. He wanted to make your face go flush red as he teased you about how much you’d enjoyed your performance in the lab with Sue. He would push your buttons, tease you out of your mind—but that was it. Keep you at arm’s length.

Stop this.

But the thought only lasted for a moment before his mind drifted once more to you—your strange talents, your sharp wit, the way your eyes seemed to challenge him whenever they crossed paths. You were a puzzle, a mystery he couldn’t solve. And the more he tried to distance himself, the more intrigued he became.

He pushed himself to his feet, leaning on the cane as he crossed the room to his desk, where his textbooks lay open. The distractions were easy enough to find—work, studies, the endless grind of the lab. But tonight, he wasn’t sure if any of it would be enough to quiet the storm raging inside his mind.

***

You carefully adjusted the pipette, trying to focus, but Sue’s chatter kept sending jolts of disturbance through your brain. You were still a bit jumpy, and avoiding Viktor was still a thing. Unfortunately, today was his class.

“Are you going to tell me anything about Angus, hm?” Sue mused, propping her chin on her hand, her voice drifting in and out as she worked. “He has a slight accent, no?” She set her samples down, waiting for a response from you. When none came, Sue’s mind drifted, and she asked an absent-minded question into space. “I wonder where Viktor’s accent’s from.”

You barely registered Sue’s words as you focused on your task. You set the pipette down, your mind drifting to Viktor because of your friend. All you wanted to do was sigh—the man was still a sad fart.

“Czech,” you muttered absentmindedly, tapping the edge of the flask with a frown on your forehead.

Sue blinked, glancing over at you. “Czech? How do you know that?”

You shrugged, your attention still fixed on the exercise. “I have ears.” Your voice was dry, tinged with something sharper. “And he’s got that... all-knowing, ‘life is hard where I come from’ Slavic man attitude.” You snorted, the bitterness slipping out more than you’d intended.

“I guess that makes sense… oh crap, careful!” Sue instantly wished she hadn’t mentioned Viktor at all.

You didn’t have time to respond before you misjudged the tilt of the vial and knocked over the alkaline solution. Your hand shot out instinctively to catch it, but you winced as it splashed across your skin, a burning sensation searing through your palm.

“Shit,” you hissed, immediately pulling your hand back.

“That’s going to burn.” The voice was cold and precise—Viktor, standing directly behind you. You hadn’t noticed him approach.

He stood there, his cane resting lightly against the counter, his amber eyes fixed on your hand.

“Focus and coordination would serve you better in the lab than... ears,” Viktor said, his tone dry, though not unkind.

You winced again as the pain spread across your hand, and you looked up at him, still trying to shake off the surprise. “Great. Just great.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, glancing at the vial you’d knocked over. “What did you spill?”

“This,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration as you pointed toward the workbench with your chin. “Sorry, I got distracted,” you sighed, feeling defeated.

Viktor’s lips twisted into something like a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Distracted. Of course.” Is it Angus who keeps you distracted? A snarky thought pushed itself into his brain.

He stepped closer, his movements precise as he gently guided you toward the back room for first aid. You felt a twinge of discomfort as you walked, the sting of the burn reminding you of your mistake. Viktor’s presence was unnerving, to say the least, his focus intense as he prepared the supplies.

When you reached the office, Viktor carefully set to work. He adjusted the temperature and beckoned you to the sink. His hands brushed lightly against your skin as he held it under lukewarm water. You bit your lip, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers on your hand.

“Should’ve been more careful,” he muttered, his voice quiet but firm as he gently dabbed at the burn. You let out an annoyed sigh and rolled your eyes at him. The cool water on your skin felt like a relief, but the occasional touch of his fingers sent a strange, electric shiver through you. It was all very sudden after days of avoiding each other and pretending there was no elephant in the room.

He hummed lightly, continuing to treat the burn with a careful hand. After a few moments, he glanced up at you. “Why weren’t you wearing gloves?”

“I said, I got distracted,” you repeated, your voice quiet and tight with frustration.

Viktor’s lips quirked into a slight smile. “And what distracts you so? Angus? Or is it my accent?”

“Please stop,” you muttered, your pride and your hand both hurting now. “You’re not funny.”

There was a long pause. Viktor’s touch, though still efficient, had softened. His fingers were careful as he applied ointment to your burn, his movements deliberate, as if sensing the shift in you. He applied pressure to the heel of your palm, then gently played with your fingers.

“Why didn’t you wear gloves?” he repeated, his voice lower now, as if the question weren’t really about the gloves anymore.

You glanced at him, feeling oddly exposed, your heart speeding up slightly. You didn’t know why you had answered so quickly before, but now the silence felt heavy. His fingers were too close, too intimate, and his gaze was locked onto yours with an intensity that made the air in your throat feel thick. Why was he suddenly letting his touch linger longer than necessary? After making sure to push you away—no, not push you away, but keep you at arm's length, as if said arm was the length of the equator.

“I—” you started, your voice catching in your throat. You bit your lip, then involuntarily glanced toward his lips—barely a second, but enough to make your pulse quicken. Immediately, you scolded yourself in your mind. Girl, get a grip. But Viktor was completely unreadable. His face remained a mask of calm, yet you could’ve sworn there was something flickering in his eyes. Was it amusement? You couldn’t tell, and it drove you insane.

The silence stretched between you again, gooey, slow, almost suffocating. You dared not look up at him, but you could feel his gaze weighing down on you like a tangible thing. Your mind was running a mile a minute, trying to decipher his motives, his intent, but it was no use. He was too good at hiding whatever was behind that steady, unreadable exterior.

Viktor took a sharp breath and reached for the bandages, and you almost whined at the loss of contact. You hadn’t realized how much his touch had steadied some part of you until it was gone. Viktor smirked under his nose, amused, seeing the way you visibly relaxed when his hands found yours again.

“How did you know I was Czech?” he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and something more playful, like he was enjoying this little game you’d somehow stumbled into.

You blinked at him in surprise, momentarily thrown off balance by his tone. “I... can recognize some Slavic accents.”

Viktor tilted his head slightly, his amber eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression. “And where are you from, Y/N?” His voice had an edge of genuine curiosity, but a challenge lingered in it. Make her squirm.

You raised an eyebrow, masking your sudden unease with a smirk, feeling a flicker of irritation at how easily he seemed to disarm you. You threw him a bait, not realizing it was he who was the hunter. “Guess. I’ll give you three questions.”

Viktor’s eyes lit up, his lips curling into a small, amused smile. He was clearly enjoying himself now, the opportunity to ask something personal laid before him. “Favourite food from home?”

“Pierogi,” you answered without hesitation, though the word felt like a small, sharp confession. You quickly added, “Don’t overthink it.” It was bizarre that you were talking about this now.

His gaze sharpened as he processed your answer. His eyes narrowed just slightly, and a gleam of realization flashed in them. “You’re Polish.” He thought to himself, I should have known.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to guess it so quickly. “Half-Polish. But yes. Impressive,” you said, leaning back slightly, a bit thrown off. “You’ve got two questions left.”

Viktor studied you for a moment, the mischievous gleam in his eyes never quite fading. He seemed to enjoy how off-balance you looked. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he asked innocently, “And who’s your favourite TA?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the questions. You hadn’t expected him to ask something so pointed. “Uh... despite everything, you,” you said, your voice faltering for just a moment. You quickly averted your gaze, trying to mask the sudden awkwardness that swept over you.

Viktor smirked, clearly delighted by your response. “Flattery won’t get you far,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was a softness to it.

You straightened, meeting his gaze again, your expression firm, though you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I think I’m being honest.” You chose not to elaborate on why, as it was a revelation to you as well.

Viktor’s amusement flickered for a moment, and his gaze softened slightly. He studied you for a few beats, the tension between you palpable as he took in the way your jaw tightened, the slight flush on your cheeks. Then his expression shifted back to something more serious, more gentle—as if he decided to surrender something in that moment. He took your bandaged hand back into his and began tracing circles around your wrist with his thumb.

“Why are you such a pain in the ass for me, hmm?”

You blinked again, clearly thrown off by the question—again. You felt an uncomfortable tightness in your chest. “Why am I... what? What do you mean?” Your voice had a slight edge to it, as if you were trying to mask the unease building inside you. Why would he do that now?

Viktor didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he continued to trace light, lazy circles around your wrist, his touch almost soothing, though the underlying intent was far from that. His eyes never left yours—sharp, testing.

“Don’t play coy,” he said, his voice low, the corners of his mouth curling up. “You know exactly what I mean. Why do you make things difficult for me, Y/N?”

You felt your pulse quicken, confusion and frustration mixing. You tried to shake it off with humour. “You... reap what you sow?” you said, a weak attempt at deflecting.

Viktor didn’t falter, his gaze still steady, his expression unreadable. “Oh, I think I’m well aware of the consequences. But you seem to enjoy making things... complicated.”

Your heart raced, the teasing tone from him sinking in deeper. Without thinking, you pulled your hand away from his, trying to put some space between you, but Viktor didn’t miss a beat. His eyes narrowed, watching you closely as you shifted.

“Are you fucking with me?” your voice was sharp now, your frustration bubbling over. You crossed your arms, not sure whether you wanted to storm off or stay and challenge him.

Viktor’s lips curled into a half-smile, amusement dancing in his eyes. He leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, the teasing tone still lingering. “Wouldn’t you like me to?” He didn’t break eye contact, watching you with quiet, unnerving intensity.

“You are so full of yourself,” you scoffed, but the stupid part of your brain whispered a wistful maybe that rang in your skull like a bell. You wanted to deflect, but something about him made you lose your grip. “Is that your attempt at being cruel?”

“No,” Viktor said, his voice dripping with poisonous sweetness, each word calculated to make your skin prickle. He closed the distance between you, leaning over to murmur into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “This is my attempt at getting even.” He scolded himself for giving away his intent, but the heat rising within him was stronger than reason. It was anger, of course.

Your breath caught, your pulse quickening as his words slid into your consciousness, the warmth of his proximity undeniable. Viktor smirked mercilessly against your skin, savouring the moment in which he had almost made you fall apart.

“You can now think about how my hands on your skin made you feel, regardless of Angus,” he continued, his voice a low hum, sending a shiver down your spine. “And how your name sounds in my accent that you studied so carefully, Y/N. And what it would sound like in other circumstances… though I think you had a glimpse.”

Your mind spun, his words wrapping around you like a snake. Viktor straightened up, and for a moment, the room felt too small, too suffocating. The air became sticky, and you couldn’t escape the weight of the silence between you.

“You can take the rest of the class off,” he said, his voice cool and casual now, though the teasing glint never left his eyes. “Just don’t touch anything… unclean with that hand.”

“Eat shit, Viktor,” you spat, the words bitter as they left your mouth. You turned on your heel, eyes filling with hot tears, your lower belly tightening into a burning knot. You didn’t dare look at Sue, your emotions too raw. With one last furious breath, you fled the classroom, your legs carrying you down the corridor as you crumbled against the nearest wall, trying to suppress your sobs.

When you finally got there, you slammed the door to your dorm room shut, leaning against it as your chest heaved with unspent fury and helplessness. The small space felt suffocating, your desk cluttered with books and notes, the unmade bed in the corner serving as a silent witness to the chaos inside your mind. You pressed your hands to your face, the bandaged one brushing against your cheek like a quiet reminder of everything that had just unfolded. You pulled it away sharply, staring at the neat white wrappings with a mix of disgust and shame.

Your mind raced, replaying the scene in the lab. The smug tilt of Viktor’s lips. The unbearable warmth of his fingers brushing your skin. The low hum of his voice, so calm and calculated, deliberately needling you until you unravelled. And that final, infuriating smirk—the one you could still feel seared into your memory.

You flinched, a sharp, involuntary movement, as if you could physically shake him out of your mind. “He is so full of shit,” you hissed under your breath, pacing across the room. Your anger surged, hot and unrelenting. “This is just a game to him. Some cruel, twisted game.”

But then the anger faltered, giving way to something more raw and disorienting. Why had he pushed you like that? Why did he say your kiss was a mistake, only to turn around and toy with you like this? Was he just cruel, or did he mean something more? The uncertainty gnawed at you, twisting your stomach into knots. You hated the way your mind kept circling back to him, as if he’d taken up residence there, smug and untouchable.

You slumped onto the edge of your bed, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. The silence of the room pressed in on you, a heavy, suffocating weight. Your chest felt tight, your thoughts spinning endlessly, looping back to the way he’d leaned in close, his words dripping with venom and something else you couldn’t name. Your vision blurred, and you realized your hands were trembling.

When there was nothing left to pace about, nothing to distract you from the storm of emotions building inside, you let out a shaky breath. A memory surfaced, soft and fleeting: your mother’s voice, calm and steady, guiding you through moments like this. You closed your eyes, the words coming to your lips before you could second-guess yourself.

“My heart is full of love and understanding,” you whispered, the mantra shaky at first, then gaining strength as you repeated it. “My heart is full of love and understanding.”

You said it again, and again, your voice steadying with each repetition, the familiar cadence grounding you in the present. But when the words finally felt stable in your throat, you hesitated, your lips parting as something reckless and desperate rose to the surface.

“Viktor’s heart is full of love and understanding,” you murmured, the words trembling as they left you. The sound of his name in your voice felt foreign, wrong, and yet it lingered in the air like an accusation.

Your voice cracked. Your chest tightened. And before you could stop it, a sob broke free, raw and unbidden. It was as if speaking his name had opened a floodgate, releasing the tangle of emotions you’d fought so hard to contain. Confusion, anger, longing—all of it crashed over you, and you doubled over, your face in your hands as tears spilled onto your lap.

The mantra was supposed to help, but instead, it only seemed to amplify everything you’d been holding back. You cried until your breath came in gasps, your body shaking with the force of it. It wasn’t fair—none of it was fair. Viktor had no right to get under your skin like this, to make you feel so small and exposed.

When the tears finally subsided, you sat in the silence, your breath still uneven, your body heavy with exhaustion. You stared down at your bandaged hand again, the edges of the wrappings slightly damp from where your tears had soaked through. A bitter laugh escaped you, quiet and self-deprecating.

“What a mess,” you muttered, your voice hoarse.

You leaned back against the wall, the anger now dulled to a slow simmer beneath the weight of everything else. And for the first time, you let yourself admit what you’d been avoiding all along: you should’ve probed him more. You should’ve insisted, pressed for answers instead of letting him dictate the moment and twist it into something cruel.

The thought was uncomfortable, prickling like a splinter lodged deep beneath your skin. He was probably doing this because he was hurt, and it wasn’t easy to let that idea settle in your mind. But once it did, it sat there, heavy and unyielding, refusing to be ignored.

[icharchivist]

sometimes i forget people didn't read the books and don't know Illario was extremely dumbed down in Veilguard, and i see takes and i have a double take like "well no that's not true he's not l--" and then i remember that i have a total different understanding of Illario than someone who only played the game because I consider Book!Illario better and have a very complicated headcanons to try to connect Book!Illario and Game!Illario together but if i had a choice i'd disregard Game!Illario in a fucking heardbeat

and then i see takes based solly on his Game characterization and i get scandalized for a second before the grief of "right the Game made 0 effort with this character" really hits me and i feel sad again

[charliemwrites]

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

Next

Masterlist

[kamaluhkhan]

LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to: 

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE! 

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later. 

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year. 

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER 

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy. 

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too. 

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow. 

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!” 

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis. 

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples. 

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!” 

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears. 

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond. 

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand. 

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it. 

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.” 

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.” 

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you. 

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke. 

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat. 

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly. 

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you. 

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface. 

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all. 

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father. 

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief. 

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes. 

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.” 

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze. 

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained. 

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up. 

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others. 

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways. 

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why. 

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s. 

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too. 

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars. 

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all. 

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely. 

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him. 

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you. 

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.” 

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you. 

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking. 

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed. 

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….” 

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time. 

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash. 

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully. 

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too. 

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together. 

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill. 

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise. 

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw. 

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves. 

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost. 

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly. 

it fell just as quickly. 

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others. 

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids. 

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow. 

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party. 

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun. 

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away. 

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.” 

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways. 

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy. 

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.” 

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.” 

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek. 

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.” 

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart. 

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile. 

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way. 

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you. 

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit. 

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you. 

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased. 

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further. 

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.  

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin. 

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.” 

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?” 

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body. 

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes. 

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner. 

so, it’s fine. 

this, this thing with eros, is fine. 

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.” 

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden. 

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin. 

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words. 

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not. 

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more. 

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger. 

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?” 

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.” 

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego. 

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face. 

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three. 

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers. 

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into. 

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while. 

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it. 

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies. 

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.” 

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over. 

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.” 

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really. 

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together. 

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too. 

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you. 

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief. 

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while. 

but that isn’t all. 

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat. 

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move. 

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS. 

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness. 

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night. 

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday. 

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on. 

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters. 

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.) 

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake. 

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how. 

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was. 

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder. 

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything. 

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same. 

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were. 

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out. 

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts. 

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship. 

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too. 

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”  

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army. 

and once it was all over? 

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood. 

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?” 

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience. 

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question. 

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though. 

by the end of august, you’d be gone too. 

now 

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.  

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water. 

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —" 

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.” 

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope. 

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

nothing.

[inuyashaluver]

Hi could you do smt abt being Lucy bronzes little sister who is the photographer for city women and is in a secret relationship with Leila Ouahabi and no one know because your “forbidden” to footballers per Lucy’s request as according to her your still a baby as your like 23/24 ish.

by the rule book - leila ouahabi

leila ouahabi x reader

description: in which you and your sister have a set of rules that you break because of a certain defender

warnings: let’s pretend leila attended the world cup, basically me yapping, swearing, angsty?

a/n: leila train has arrived back at my stop lmao, thank you so much for the request, much love, enjoy ❤️❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your sister had a set of rules that were heavily referenced while growing up, and the present.

this set of rules sworn on by each sister with the promise they would never be broken. and they weren’t, until leila came into the picture.

—

you were 8 years younger than your sister, lucy. you’re a bronze sister, meaning you were extremely fun, playful, but serious and stoic when you needed to be. you and your sister brought out the best in each other, expecting nothing but the finest.

lucy was the best older sister, she was funny and always included you in everything she did once you grew out of your snitch phase and actually became cool in her eyes. the two of you were always extremely close and that’s how you both liked it.

she encouraged you to put your heart to your passion, one of the main reasons you became a photographer.

lucy was extremely protective of you, hence why she created a simple set of rules between the two of you that shouldn’t be broken.

1 - don’t date any of lucy’s teammates

2 - don’t date any of (y/n)’s friends

3 - respect each other’s boundaries

4 - be honest with each other

5 - sisters come first

the rules were easily agreed upon by the both of you, they were made when you were 16 and lucy was 24.

—

you followed lucy around for photographer opportunities, landing yourself a permanent position on the media teams of both england and manchester city when lucy joined in 2020.

you always loved photography, adoring the feeling of capturing a canvas that would be around for years to come.

just before lucy joined in 2020, you were both at england camp. in free time, everyone would eagerly chatter about their new or current clubs they were going to.

you angled your camera at keira while leah marked her during a mini game, checking the photos with a pleased smile until your sister hopped on your back.

“munchkin!” (your nickname for as long as you can remember) “luce! get off!” you laugh, almost falling flat on your face until your sister got off you, giving you an exaggerated kiss on the cheek that you were quick to squeal and complain about.

“you’re so annoying” you grumble, unable to fight your smile at seeing your sister’s bright grin. “shut up, show me some pics, picasso” she teases.

you roll your eyes amusingly, giving her a sneak peek of all the photos you’d taken so far, letting out a bright laugh when she made you stop on a photo of her.

“that’s class” she pinches your cheek teasingly, “well done, baby sis” she coos teasingly, a couple of the girls coming over and teasing you too.

everyone viewed you as family and a teammate even though you were just their photographer, you’d been with them for so long, they’d grown a huge love for you.

“you excited for manchester, (y/n/n)?” leah throws an arm over your shoulder as you both walked inside st george, “yeah! should be good, nice and cold” you grin,

“maybe manchester city is where we can finally see you get a partner?” she teases, you both laugh, “lee, come on, you know the rules” you laugh, “i know the rules!” lucy calls out from behind you from where she was walking behind you.

you flip her off and she gasps offendedly, “i could get you fired for that!” she exclaims, you wave her off, laughing along with leah.

—

you, lucy and keira all lived together in manchester, splitting the rent and living comfortably.

but in 2022, the two of them got offered contracts for barcelona and they accepted, but you didn’t. manchester felt like home to you, and you really didn’t want to leave it.

it was the first time you’d been away from lucy, and don’t be mistaken, you are a highly independent person but something was so reassuring about having your sister with you.

before they moved, they helped you move into a flat for yourself, small and homey like you needed.

it was incredibly tearful dropping keira and lucy off to the airport, you don’t think you’ve ever felt your sister hug you so tight.

“i love you” she breathes out into your embrace, you hug her back equally as tight, “such a sap, bronzes don’t do that” you tease, receiving a slap on the back of your head.

it was daunting for the both of you to be apart, not really having to do that in your lives.

“i love you too” you smile, “i’ll call you when we land” lucy sniffs, hastily wiping away her tears and letting keira hug you as well. “my favourite bronze” keira smiles, both you and lucy letting out a wet laugh.

you wave them both off with a sad smile, waiting for them to go through the gate before you dragged yourself back to your car and drove off.

—

you went back to work at the beginning of the season, waiting for the girls to come outside to photograph their training session.

you smile and wave to familiar faces, taking a couple of test photos before you noticed a new face that you didn’t recognise at first, one of the new signings.

your eyes narrowed slightly in concentration when you looked at her, until you realised who it was. leila ouahabi.

you’ve never met her formally, only smiling at her in the hallways of national games if you had the chance. you always thought she was absolutely gorgeous, but you also appreciated the way she defended, even your sister agreeing she was incredible.

leila smiles at you, slightly surprised to recognise you slightly. the truth was, leila had been heavily looking at your social media platform ever since she laid eyes on you way back.

she thought you were gorgeous, she could tell you were a soft soul, with your charming smile and cute little face you made when you were concentrating on your camera.

she wanted to know you, she was just shy about it, not knowing to approach you, maybe this was the opportunity she needed.

—

training progressed, you smile pleasingly when you look back at your photos, your ultra focus showing on your facial features as you attempt to capture the best photos possible.

you were sat on the side of the pitch watching the girls train, your eyes subconsciously drifting to the spaniard.

it was until a mini game that a certain defender was chasing the ball, kicking it out and sliding directly next to you that your breathing quickened.

you look down to see her slightly wincing, heavily breathing and looking a little too attractive but that was an afterthought.

“are you okay?” you breathe out, the girl on the floor looks up at you surprised, a sly smile taking over her features.

“i’m fine, hermosa (beautiful), thank you” she winks, pushing herself up from the floor and dusting herself off, walking back to the pitch and making sure to look back at you with a flirty smile.

you blink in shock, what was that interaction?

—

these interactions went on, situations where you felt extremely nervous around her even when she was barely doing anything.

you were photographing the new kit, only a set amount of players selected for the campaign, and luckily for you, leila was the very last model for the day.

leila came in with her charming smile and a dray of drinks in her hands, she perks up when you make eye contact.

“good morning, hermosa (beautiful)” she grins, extending the warm drink out to you, you look at her in surprise, a grateful smile gracing your features.

“morning, leila, thank you” you take a sip and let out a pleased sigh, “how did you know this is my favourite?” you tease.

“i read your cup” she says with a flirty smile, though her cheeks tinged slightly with pink. you smile before clearing your throat.

you go through the plans for the shoot, explaining what type of photos you’ll be taking, the approach of the shoot and what you needed from her.

she maintained eye contact the entire time you spoke, nodding along with each and every word and clarifying on things when she didn’t understand.

it was almost hard to press the shutter button when leila would pose, it was a simple, basic, arms crossed - stoic football pose photo that you’ve taken numerous times in your career but something was just so different about how leila did it.

her confidence poured out of her and her smirk made your stomach flip. she was serious but loved to joke around with you when the time called for it.

the two of you basically chatting, taking a photo, chatting, taking a photo. a simple yet effective formula that you both enjoyed. so much so, leila asked you to go out on a date with her and you accepted without a second thought.

—

the two of you went on a couple of dates before the two of you started dating. back then it was really fresh but extremely obvious with the heart eyes you’d send each other.

the manchester girls caught on before the two of you could even process it. and the only condition for everyone was to vow their silence around your sister with the promise of the best pictures being published.

as time progressed, you both moved in together, both of you in one of the most genuine, loving relationship the two of you had ever had.

—

“baby, i’m working” you giggle, pressed up against a random wall, one hand on leila’s hip, camera in the other.

“amor (love), you’re not working right now” she grins cheekily, lips quickly locking with yours. one of her hands on your cheek and one on your hip holding you close to her.

you let out a little exhale from your nose in a laugh, to focused on kissing your now girlfriend of a year.

it was hard hiding it from lucy, especially when the two of you lived together. you were able to get away with it most of the time, telling your sister your roommate was just really chatty.

“baby” you mumble against her lips, attempting to push her away by the chest but the girl was attached to you, “shh, let it happen” she mockingly scolds, giving you a stern look before she kissed you breathlessly.

that’s when you hear it, the chuckles and teasing coming from familiar blondes, alex and chloe. “get it, baby bronze” alex whistles, you and leila pulled away with a roll of both of your eyes.

“don’t forget about that photo i have of you, alex” you threaten, one taken of her with an expression on her face during a header that had her screeching in fear when she saw you laughing at it.

“you’re just as annoying as your sister” alex flips you off when you blow her a kiss, laughing as they walked away.

leila squishes your cheeks together with one of her hands, forming your lips into a little pout, “mi amor (my love), those are my kisses” she grins lazily, clearly teasing you when she placed a little kiss on your forced pout.

you usher her off to training, giving her a playful slap on her backside that she shook her head at.

—

it was during the 2023 world cup that you both got found out, and boy was it an experience. your sister was extremely confused as to why you were so excited spain was in the final, wondering what your certain new interest about the spanish team was about.

“don’t tell me you’re a traitor, munchkin?” lucy scoffs while you set up your camera on the pitch during a pre-match walk.

“luce, i’ve got my england merch on, thank you” you laugh, shaking your head as you take a quick photo of her with an evident frown on her face, her eyes narrowed at you.

“why do you keep looking at their bench?” she questions, following your eyes to see some of the spain girls walking out to do their own checks.

“why are you so paranoid, lucia?” you tease, punching her lightly on the arm and wincing when a slap made its way to the back of your head.

“some of the girl’s play for city, i’m just being nice” you rub your head in slight pain, glaring at your older sister that she returned.

“i’ll find out, i always do” she concludes, letting you go back to taking some photos and other little media bits.

—

and unfortunately for you. she did find out.

the girls were lining up in the tunnel, about 5 minutes until everyone would walk out. ironically you see you sister standing next to leila in the tunnel, you try to fight your smile when you make eye contact with your girlfriend.

she smiles at you, your bodies moving on their own as you completed her pre match ritual, three quick pecks on the lips.

you both smiled brightly when you pulled back, before you heard a sharp voice coming from behind you.

“what the fuck was that?” your sister exclaimed, her hand on your shoulder and spinning you around, both yours and leila’s eyes widened, realising what had just happened. “fucking ouahabi” she breathes out in disbelief.

“i really hope you’re fucking joking, (y/n) bronze because i’m not fucking laughing” she says lowly, not wanting to attract much attention but she was.

you just look up at your sister in shock, mouth slightly agape, “nah, we’re talking about this. later” she glares, both at you and leila.

the girls walk out and you watch them dumbly as you go. you were grateful that moment wasn’t recorded.

during half time your sister wouldn’t even look at you, brushing you off like you were nothing. “don’t” she pleads, walking past you as you tried to approach her.

you walk to the tunnel and felt the tears pricking in your eyes, and like a magnet, leila’s hand found yours, dragging you into a quiet corner where the two of you could have some privacy.

as soon as your girlfriend brought you into a tight embrace, you broke down. “shh, it’s okay” she hums, kissing your cheek softly as you cried in her arms.

she pulls back slightly, looking at you with a sad expression when she saw your tear streaked face, her hand moving up to wipe away the evidence.

“i didn’t want her to find out like that, i was ready to tell her tonight” you sniffle, leila nods along with your words, listening to your little ramble intently as she comforted you.

“i know, bebé (baby), i know” she says sympathetically, pulling you into another hug and just holding you.

she stayed with you the entire time, talking you down and making you look presentable before you went back on the pitch.

she knew she would get subbed off anyway, only wanting to focus on you for the minute. you were still in a hug when lucy came out of the change room, her face softening when she saw your red eyes.

she was about to say something but she stopped herself, not wanting to do this right away. she weirdly smiles at both of you, tight lipped but still somewhat of a smile.

“it’s okay” leila whispers, and it really felt like it was.

leila kisses you softly before she makes her way back on the pitch, and of course when the match ended and england lost, the mood changed.

your sister let you hug her tightly after the loss, holding onto you for dear life as she hugged you. “luce, i’m so sorry, you played so well” you whispered, your hand rubbing up and down her back.

“i’m sorry, munchkin, we still need to talk” she sniffles, wiping away her tears and giving you a gentle smile. you nod, pulling her into another tight hug before you went off to congratulate your girlfriend, weirdly through the encouragement of your sister.

“hey, baby” you smile at your girlfriend, giving her a quick hug when she presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she greets with a bright smile, “congratulations” you whisper, she thanks you quickly, looking over your shoulder to see your sister hovering around with tears in her eyes, walking around by herself.

“give me one second” leila whispers, gripping your hand gently and walking over to lucy, you and your sister having matching surprised expressions.

“i want to honest, i love your sister, we have been together for a year and we were going to tell you sooner but she was really scared and i respect her” she blurts out,

“i would love to talk about this with you, if you’ll let me” leila says nervously, lucy pauses for a moment before nodding, pulling leila into an extremely quick hug but extremely meaningful.

“sure thing, leila” your sister smiles, a little laugh escaping her lips, “you know, you broke rule number one” lucy teases, telling you everything was going to be okay.

“it doesn’t count! you left when she came over” you groan, letting leila tuck you into her side as she giggled, watching you and your sister bicker like kids.

she could tell how much you cared about each other. but lucy could tell the same for the both of you.

—

all three of you did have that talk, you and your girlfriend explained the details of your relationship to your sister that she was actually quite happy about.

she’d never seen you so happy, so light with any of your previous partners.

she could tell you both loved each other because it was so painfully obvious but she was truly happy after she let out a rant about how you literally broke every rule in the contact.

she got over it though, a hefty shopping spree having your bank account screaming for salvation.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily oniiii

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leilaouahabi: biggest fan and personal photographer

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yourname: baby, my job is a photographer

↳ leilaouahabi: you’re no fun

lucybronze: hands off my sister

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[imaginespazzi]

Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033 

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team. 

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face. 

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up. 

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up. 

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back. 

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again. 

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too. 

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her. 

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes. 

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again. 

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs. 

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen, 

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend. 

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence. 

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond. 

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way. 

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening. 

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously. 

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly. 

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana. 

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps. 

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath. 

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that. 

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately. 

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips. 

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is. 

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours. 

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look. 

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends. 

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage. 

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them. 

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her. 

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger. 

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said. 

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly. 

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again. 

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly. 

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore. 

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate. 

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did. 

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her. 

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh. 

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly. 

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-” 

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender. 

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever. 

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist. 

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel. 

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows. 

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames. 

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother. 

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her. 

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them. 

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently. 

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands. 

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch. 

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be.  That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort. 

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas. 

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them. 

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt. 

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults. 

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side. 

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other. 

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years. 

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe. 

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this. 

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige. 

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes. 

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay. 

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake. 

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly. 

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away. 

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

[danieyells]

@2flowerz also asked for Lyca so

NOW WITH 100% MORE DOGGO LYCA. HE IS DEFINITELY A HUMAN AND NOT A WEREWOLF. He is trying very hard to be a human. I love him very much. . . .

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"...You again. Where're we going today?"

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Hey, you got letters. Don't you have to read them? Oh, don't you know how?"

he understands if you can't read, man. neither can he.

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"You smell sweeter than usual today... Stop. Go away."

after learning that the pc is going to turn into the anomaly that cursed them any sort of 'you smell nicer than normal' feels like such a threat lmao

"You want to touch me? Fine. Ten seconds and that's it."

that is more than enough my good sir

"When I find Neros, I wanna prove I've been getting along with humans. Then he'll definitely let me live with him."

considering he related the term 'neglect play' to what Neros did to him. . .I'm not so sure. . .and if Neros was as old as he sounds like he was, I wonder if he's even still alive. . . .

"Hey! Moth-eaten Casanova! Where'd you go? I'm gonna show you my special move today."

"special move" in Japanese is 「必殺技」 or 'lethal move'/'killer technique', usually unique to a person or fighting style. Not sure if he wants to show Ed how cool he is or try and kill him lmao--

"This phone thingy they gave me keeps making noises and making me jump... Why do I gotta carry it everywhere? It's scary!"

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"Mnn... Let me sleep... Don't touch me... Zzz..."

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Laws, school regulations, anomalous law... Manners, morals, rules... How're you s'posed to remember all that?"

man i wish i could tell you. . .i've mostly got the morals in order, that's basically just 'don't do harm to others' when you get down to it. laws are about 50% 'don't do things that may endanger you or others' and 50% bullshit. the rest you're kinda on your own with.

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Urgh... My skin's crawling... Moon must be gettin' round soon..."

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"At first I was sad 'cause I got put in a different house to Suba, but all kinds of stuff happens here every day so it was fine."

awww he was sad because he doesn't get to see Subaru as often but he's not bored so it's alright! glad he's comfortable ;u;

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"H-Hey, don't come so close! Somethin' about your scent makes my stomach feel weird!"

WE'RE ONLY ON AFFINITY 5 DUDE YOU CAN'T BE CATCHING FEELINGS THIS EARLY it's probably because he's scared of girls or something lol

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I didn't do anything wrong! Those guys were saying mean stuff about me 'cause they thought I couldn't hear. All I did was yell at them."

I hate how they won't even let Lyca defend himself verbally. . . .

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I don't mind classes. The teachers say cool stuff. Once I learn to read the textbooks and the notes and the blackboard it'll be perfect."

HE'S GONNA BE SUCH A GOOD STUDENT WHEN HE CAN READ???

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"There was this big noise in our practical class and my ears popped out. Everyone ran away screaming. Damn it..."

wow they're cowards if the ears alone scared them. . .how're they supposed to deal with anomalies if that scared them!?

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"This? It's a picture book, duh. How come you don't know that when you're a human? I study with it before bed, everyone does it."

I wonder who made him a picture book of all the things he'd be learning as a first year to study with. . . . . .or maybe it's just a generic picture book lol

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"This blanket's not trash, it's just dirty. I can't sleep without it, so hands off."

he really loves that blanket huh. it must be one of the only things he had from his childhood or from being looked after by neros. . . .

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"What's a "so-shul skill"?  That blond gigolo was talking about them. He said I don't have any. Is that a good thing?"

he's got social skills!! Just. . .not very human social skills!!!

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I'm starving... I wanna eat Sho's food, but I can't order it without Suba... Wait, you can read, right?"

Lyca slowly realizing how many people he knows can actually read and thus can help him with placing orders for delicious foods--

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"That moth-eaten Casanova's in his room all day so I tried to take him for a walk, but he locked his door and ignored me. The hell?!"

LYCA CONTINUES TO SCRATCH AT ED'S DOOR COME FOR WALKIES ED!!!!

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"That stupid blond gigolo ran off with my blanket. I'm not done sleeping yet..."

tbf your blanket is filthy. . .and I get it, it's what you've got and it smells familiar but. . . .

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"I can't get back to sleep... I'm gonna wake up that moth-eaten Casanova for a walk."

lyca is a dog scratching at your bedroom door with his leash in his mouth like 'yes it is time for walkies now rise human'

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"The teacher asked us to name an anomalous plant you can eat but when I did he said humans can't eat it. So what? I can, so I'm not wrong."

I AGREE WITH HIM HE SHOULD NOT GET THAT MARKED WRONG. if you only want a human applicable question say 'humans' not 'you.

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"In the last place I never knew what time it was and I pretty much just slept all day. Now I gotta get used to having a "roo-teen.""

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'm drawing. If I draw all the good stuff and bad stuff that happened every day I won't forget about it."

if he could write he'd keep a diary but since he can't write he's keeping a picture diary. . .and he's a really good artist according to his character story, so it's probably a pretty faithful recreation of whatever happened that day. i'd love to see his picture diary. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Huh? The blood on my bed? ...It's nothing. Don't touch my stuff, you're gonna get your smell all over it!"

WHY IS THERE BLOOD IN YOUR BED, BUDDY. ARE YOU OKAY??? IF YOU ATE SOMETHING IN BED THAT'S FINE I JUST DON'T WANT YOU TO BE INJURED. . . .

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"...Did you cry? Your scent is all squeezy. How come?"

smelling you sad makes him sad too so tell him why you're feeling sad and he can make the sad go away?

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I wanna go to the cafeteria, but the teachers won't give me my pocket money. They said I'll get "spoiled." The hell does that mean?!"

GIVE HIM SOME MONEY SO HE CAN BUY FOOD???? HE NEEDS TO EAT????? HE'S BUSY WITH CLASS SO HE CAN'T GO ON MISSIONS YOU CAN'T JUST STARVE THE BOY????

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"That moth-eaten Casanova told me humans like it if you ignore them sometimes. Something about playing hard to get? I'm gonna try it tomorrow."

I wonder if that has anything to do with Subaru's home screen chat where he wonders why Lyca hasn't messaged him back. . .he's trying to play hard to get because he thinks it'll make Subaru like him more. . . .

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I'll stay here and be quiet at night, even when the moon's not round. 'Cause you're tired, aren't you? Go sleep."

even if he doesn't have to stay or even if he wants to make lots of noise, he'll stay and be quiet so it's easier for you to fall asleep. He won't be loud and you don't have to worry about him! so sleep tight!

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Sleep here. Huh? Is there a law that says we can't sleep together? There's not, is there? Hurry up and lie down."

it's pretty much innocent. . .he just wants you close by. . .being able to smell you while he sleeps would probably make it easier to fall asleep. . .feel safe and familiar and everything. . . .

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"I'm gonna work hard... I'll gonna work so hard, they're gonna say I can live with humans forever..."

Lyca, despite being a werewolf, is a lot like Kaito in that he just wants to be a normal human. Except he never started as a normal human, so he has a bit further of a distance to go to become one. . .he's not a dog, he doesn't wanna be a pet or an animal or anything like that. He wants to be a person like everyone else. But it's hard when others reject him, and when everyone says they think he's too dangerous even when he hasn't done anything wrong. Other ghouls--other humans--do way worse stuff than he does, and yet he's still held to a higher standard. It's not fair. But he's working as hard as he can to catch up. . . .

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"That blond gigolo tried to wash my blanket! He's never coming in my room again!"

he does not like spring cleaning--

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Lately there's flower smells everywhere, but sometimes there's one that kinda smells like you."

IT'S GONNA BE HILARIOUS IF THE ANOMALY THAT CURSED YOU HAPPENS TO LIVE IN OBSCUARY'S FOREST. . .LIKE YEAH IT'S JUST OUT THERE IT WAS ALWAYS ON CAMPUS IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU WE COULD'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS CURE BEFORE YOU GOT IT.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Harurin kept nagging, so I went to the safari park. Not gonna lie...it was super fun."

I love that Lyca uses the nicknames Rui uses for some people lol and I bet he loved running around Jabberwock!!! All that fresh open air and the wildlife. . .he's a wolf at heart really and truly.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Cherry blossom petals are super fun. They're like, whoosh, then they fall everywhere. I wish our house had some."

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Urgh... My head...it hurts... This? It's shaved ice. The blond gigolo told me to eat it so I don't get "heat eggs-aw-schun.""

oh buddy you're eating it too fast. . . . . .

(between 11am and 4pm)

"I was just in that moth-eaten Casanova's room and it was so cold I thought it was gonna snow! Is he secretly a yeti?"

okay it was only 63 degrees in there it wasn't THAT cold Lyca.

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm gonna go practice swimming at Harurin's place. Can you do other stuff besides doggy paddle?"

I can't swim at all so. you are miles ahead of me my friend.

(between 8pm and 5am)

"I know I said I always wanted to do sparklers, but... you sure this's okay? I thought we're not s'posed to play with fire!"

canid instincts are kicking in--fire BAD and SCARY and DANGEROUS. ABORT MISSION.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"I just tried to join in with some guys playing with a ball, but they said I don't know the rules and told me to go away."

THEN TEACH HIM THE RULES god they're such jerks around here.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Blond Gigolo was makin' this massive fire near the garden just now. It smelled all burnt and sweet... Is that some kinda ritual?"

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Finished my picture. That Romi guy who comes to the bar all the time said he wanted one, so it's for him."

Romeo does like fine things. This just goes to show how good of an artist Lyca is! I bet Romeo's gonna frame it and put it somewhere people can see lol or maybe just keep it in his room. . .that or he wants to see if he can get him to make a forgery and profit off poor Lyca--

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Moth-eaten Casanova said humans like looking at the moon... D'you get sad if you can't see it?"

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"I'm gonna go play at that big ice castle after class! Huh? 'Cause playing in the snow's fun."

THE FROSTHEIMERS BETTER NOT GIVE HIM TROUBLE LET MY BOY RUN AND ROMP IN THE SNOW!!!!!!!

(between 11am and 4pm)

"Mm, I don't really feel the cold. Humans get warm when they run around too, don't they? Race you over there! "

he is having so much fun in the winter ;;;;; just running around and playing. . . .

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"My fingers have been gettin' all tingly and stiff and my hair's all crunchy! What's up with that? "

maybe playing in the snow a little too much lol--

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How d'you drink hot drinks so quick? They always burn my tongue... Huh? Dogs have sensitive tongues? I'm a wolf, not a dog..."

His birthday: (April 19th)

"Oh right, it's my birthday. Neros told me my mom wrote down the date."

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday, right? No, I only know 'cause that blond gigolo was yelling about it. ...Here's your present."

I bet he drew something really nice or found you something really cool ;3;

New Years: (January 1st)

"Hope you have a happy and prop...props... prosp...prospinous? new year... Damn it, I practiced that for ages..."

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"Oh, thanks. Professor Nicolas said I can't eat chocolate, so I'll give it to Casanova and Gigolo!"

why would you even risk giving him chocolate in the first place lmao. . .also in Japanese he says "I'll share with those two idiots" instead of "casanova and gigolo" lmao

White Day: (March 14th)

"This is for you. I dunno what kinda stuff human girls like, but Suba helped me pick it, so it's prob'ly fine."

Subaru knows girls' tastes is Lyca's logic I guess lmao Subaru is a lil on the femme side comparatively--

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Why's everyone being so mean today?! Telling lies and laughing at me... They're all jerks...!"

please explain the day to him. . .people are mean enough to him as it is. . . .

Halloween: (October 31st)

"My ears and tail are out? I know, I'm doing it on purpose. The moth-eaten Casanova said it's okay today."

THE ONE DAY HE CAN BE HIMSELF IS HALLOWEEN BECAUSE NO ONE WILL THINK ANYTHING OF IT. . .they'll just think it's a cool costume or maybe a fox robe! And he'll get candy for it!!!

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Hey, look! When I got up this present was next to my pillow! Santa really came..."

WHO TAUGHT HIM ABOUT SANTA. . .AND WHY. . .then again Romeo said Santa's reindeer is real so. . .it probably isn't actually harmful to teach him about Santa since Santa's probably somewhat real here. . . .

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"...I'm going for a walk."

(13 affinity and above)

"Hey, you alive? Huh, you're breathing so I guess so."

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"How come you stopped coming? Do you hate me? It made my heart all squeezy, so don't do it again."

oh no sweetie. . .sometimes we just have to take care of things and disappear without wanting to. . .sometimes life gets in the way instead of finding away. . . . . . . .

JUST. . .SWEETEST OF SWEETHEARTS. HE'S SO CHILDISH AND ADORABLE AND SWEET AND GOOD. . .I WILL USE MY TEN SECONDS OF PETTING TIME WISELY. He really does try harder than anyone, he's so determined and I believe in him so much. I want my boy to be happy.

[haikyuuharemdreams]

merry christmas to everyone! please do listen to this as you read!

“love you, baby.”

“love you too, rinnie. i hope you rest well!”

as much as you wanted to stay longer on the phone with rintarou, he has to go to bed while you have to grapple with your feelings of disappointment.

rintarou may not have been your first partner, but he will be the first you will be spending christmas with. or at least, that was supposed to be the case until he dropped a bomb on you during your phone call - he won’t be able to make it home in time for christmas. he had flown to argentina a week ago for a match, and was supposed to have boarded the flight hours ago; the keywords being: supposed to. his flight was delayed, and eventually, cancelled.

he tried to find another flight, but most were already fully booked (it’s the holidays, what did you expect?). furthermore, it was already late and he is exhausted from the wait.

you try not to cry, but that’s an impossible task. you don’t blame anyone, as much as you would like to curse the universe for the awful timing. maybe, you’re just plainly unlucky and need to be cleansed.

christmas is not something you celebrate, but you’ve spent years watching your friends posting photos of themselves with their loved ones on christmas day and each one you come across only serves to exacerbate the painful feelings of loneliness and yearning that has rooted itself into your heart. you spent most of your christmases playing your otome games or watching your kpop men in an attempt to fill that void, and it does help till you realise that they’re fictional and unattainable. you would spend the rest with your friends, former members of inarizaki’s volleyball team - which included rintarou, but that only alleviated a part of the loneliness; it didn’t help the longing for a romantic partner on a festive day.

it doesn’t help that you’ve also never had the chance to celebrate christmas with your former partners, relationships ending even before the month of december.

that was why you were beyond ecstatic when you realised that you were able to celebrate not just this christmas, but hopefully many more, with rintarou. even though he had to leave, he reassured you countless times that he would definitely make it home before christmas - just in time to have a day of celebration.

alas, the spirit of christmas has chosen to not shine on you favourably this time around.

as tempted as you are to spend christmas alone feeling all miserable and pitiful in your apartment while your parents will be on their cute date, you decide against it and contact your friends to see if they will be willing to spend some time with you.

the miya twins invite you over for christmas dinner, but not before attempting an interrogation. the rest are away on trips, but had immediately expressed their concerns over your question. you reassure them that nothing was wrong in yours and rintarou’s relationship; he is simply just stuck in another country.

you spend the rest of the day looking for presents to give to the miya twins and their parents, thankful that they’ve invited you over for christmas even when you’re not part of their family (even though they have, multiple times, stated that they do wish you were their biological sister).

hours pass by, and your phone rings when you’re back at home in your bed after a hot shower.

“you didn’t send me anything today.”

“you were sleeping, rinnie. i didn’t want to bother you.”

“that wouldn’t have stopped you a day ago. what’s the matter?”

it was merely a question, but that tipped you over. you burst out into tears, and everything you say quickly becomes incoherent to him.

“baby, i need you to take deep breaths for me, okay? breathe in, 1, 2, 3, 4. okay, now breathe out, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.”

it’s not okay, but your current state won’t help you in conveying that to your partner.

“i don’t blame you, rinnie, but i’m so, so, so, so upset and so incredibly angry. i miss you, and i hate that you’re away. i hate that i’ve been looking forward to our first ever christmas together, yet that won’t even happen because for some goddamn reason, the universe hates me.”

rintarou tries his best not to smile. he doesn’t want to make you feel bad or invalidate your feelings, but you’re just so adorable to him right now.

“baby, i get that. i feel the same way too. i was really hoping to spend christmas with you, the love of my life. i’m sorry your boyfriend can’t dr strange his way back to you right now, but i promise you that i’ll make it up to you.”

your heart clenches, and you feel bad for being this emotional when rintarou must be feeling just as bummed.

“i love you, rinnie. i’m still bugged by it, but i know we have so much to look forward to. we can always celebrate together next year!”

your effort to cheer yourself up, and to convince yourself makes him laugh a little. hearing his laughter makes your heart sing, and you inevitably feel ten times better.

“i love you too, baby. do you want to share with me about your day?”

you do. you don’t forget to tell him that you’re spending christmas with the twins tomorrow, and he pretends to be annoyed about it.

“merry christmas, baby.”

you don’t even realise that the clock has already struck midnight, signifying that it is already christmas in japan.

“merry christmas, rinnie.”

“merry christmas, baby.”

the both of you continue your conversation till it’s one, and rintarou insists suggests that you go to bed.

“good night, my love.”

you rarely call him that, and he cherishes every moment you do.

“good night, my love.” you cherish every moment he does too.

you don on a camisole and a pair of cargo pants, layering your outfit over with a sweater rintarou got you and your winter coat - a birthday gift from the twins. you put on some light makeup, and leave the house with a cute clutch bag you got for yourself.

you were at the miya’s earlier than they’ve expected, and their parents inform you that the twins have gone to play volleyball nearby. you internally roll your eyes at that; of course they would. despite their protests, you help out with setting the table while waiting for the twins to return.

they only do about half an hour after. upon seeing you, they start a fight over who gets to hug you first before you stomp over to them and squeeze the both of them into a tight embrace.

atsumu squeezes your cheeks, crying about how much he misses you. osamu just gives you head pats, asking about you and telling you to eat up as they’ve prepared more food just for you.

their parents ushers the three of you into their dining room, joking about how long they’ve made you wait.

“yer know, osamu’s seeing someone?”

“no way! who’s the lucky girl?”

“a regular at the restaurant.”

“tell me more about her!”

you find out that osamu is seeing an office worker. she was a regular at his restaurant, and thought she was pretty but didn’t dare approach her till she was stood up by a date. he replaced her date that day, and discovered that they were very compatible.

they became a couple soon after.

he wanted to invite her over for christmas, but she usually celebrates with her family.

atsumu, however, is still single. he claims that he just haven’t found the one, but you know that he wouldn’t have an issue with that. he is a sweet man with so much love to give, and any woman who has the fortune to be with him will be given the world.

as you enjoyed your time with the miyas, rintarou’s lack of responses to your updates throughout the day is beginning to gnaw at you.

he doesn’t usually disappear like that, but you try convincing yourself that he could be out spending christmas with his teammates. that he could be practising. that he could be in deep sleep.

none of it soothes you, but you don’t want to worry the miyas. you don’t want to bring down their mood; it is a holiday, after all.

you exchange gifts with the family, and the twins offer to send you home seeing that it is already close to midnight. you accept, and extend your gratitude to their parents.

“bye! thank you for tonight!”

“ya don’t hafta keep saying thank you, (y/n).”

atsumu rubs your hair.

“i know! i’m just really happy, that’s all!”

they drive off after you give them their hugs.

you carry the gifts into your apartment without removing your shoes, noting to mop the floor before your parents return. you place them in your living room before removing your shoes and socks.

you check your phone, frowning when you see 0 messages from rintarou. he hasn’t texted you the whole day, which is alarming, but you thought he would’ve at least sent something to let you know that he’s alive.

did something happen? oh, god.

you try calling him; none of it gets through.

you don’t have his teammates’ numbers, nor his coach’s.

a knock at your door startles you, and you wonder if someone had confused the apartment numbers. another knock, and you hesitantly make your way over to look through the peephole.

you gasp at the familiar face outside the door.

“rinnie?” you ask, flinging open the door, in disbelief.

“merry christmas, baby.”

you jump into his arms, pure bliss reverberating through your body.

“h-how?”

“i spent hours scouring on websites, and was luckily able to find a plane with last-minute availability. i took it the moment i saw it, and wanted to surprise you.”

you smack him.

“you should’ve told me something! i was so worried.”

he takes your hand in his, and gives it a light kiss.

“i’m sorry, my love. i didn’t mean to.”

he leads you back into your apartment, into your bedroom where he guides you to lie on top of him.

“i’ve missed you so much so much.” you mumble into his chest.

“i’ve missed you just as much, if not more.” he responds. “so, where’s my ‘merry christmas’?”

“belated merry christmas, rinnie!”

the clock has already struck midnight. it’s the 26th of december.

“not belated in argentina, baby. it’s still the 25th there.”

you pull back from his chest, eyes twinkling with wonder and awe. he’s right, it’s still the 25th in other parts of the world, just maybe not japan.

“let’s celebrate christmas together, baby.”

thank you for the dividers! @enchanthings

[phoenixyfriend]

Movies I've been meaning to see for ages and now, on the plane, I finally have:

Lisa Frankenstein

Birds of Prey

Scott Pilgrim

Disenchanted

V for Vendetta

Blade

I have opinions on all of them. (Yes this was all the same flight. Thirteen hours.)

(I've slept a total of maybe 4 hours in the past uhhhh 46? Gonna pass out as soon as I can lol.)

Lisa Frankenstein is a high-budget Wattpad fic and I mean that in the best way possible. The main characters are generally ludicrous overall and it actually works! The "slutty cheerleader" stepsister is actually the sweetest character in the movie and I adore her. Also, Cole Sprouse is clearly having SO much fun.

Birds of Prey: I was spoiled for a LOT of this movie. I didn't realize how late in the game they came together, though, and while people had talked about Ewan really selling Sionis as this blatantly queer villain trope, I still was not spoiled for That Much. Like. It didn't come across as a homophobic stereotype (to me) but I'm BAFFLED as to how.

Most likely, it's because we see three former relationships or signs of attraction, and all three are at BEST messy (f/f, Montoya and Ellen Yee), but generally just really bad, in the abusive f/m (Joker/Harley) or toxic m/m (see everything about Sionis, but also idk what he and Zsasz were up to).

Scott Pilgrim: The diegesis! I expected this to be something in the vein of Walter Mitty, where the superhero segments are all just extended daydreams that are 100% not actually happening. I thought the space-time weirdness was just the new show. But no! People have comic book and video game logic! And they're aware of it! People literally die and leave behind coins! Insane!

Also, wow, you(?) all really weren't joking when you said that 22yo Scott dating a 17yo is more Pathetic and Doormat than predatory creep.

Also I did not expect the mind control.

And I knew there'd be some big names but I was still blindsided by Aubrey Plaza and Anna Kendrick in the opening credits.

Disenchanted: love the plot concept! I adore some enforced tropes and family bonding! However, some of the "heavy" lines fell flat due to the writing, and the songs overall just felt worse, both in execution (Amy and Idina both sound strained when reaching for their upper registers) and just in general writing quality.

V for Vendetta: Really cool overall, great plot and messaging, but I occasionally had trouble keeping track of the Various White Men. V's accent seemed to slip to American a few times? I kept trying to figure out what year it supposedly was, and also which characters I saw being claimed as "V before he transitioned" on Tumblr.

Blade: I love the way Wesley Snipes talks in this. IDK why.

Pleasantly surprised that there was like... way less sexism than I'd expect from a 90s action flick. However, I was blindsided by the vaguely incestuous energy that was brought in every time Blade talks to his vampire mom.

[secretly-from-the80s]

My outsiders head cannons because idk im bored (warning I’ll prolly misspell things!)

Darry:

1: When he was younger he used to play in the mud with Pony and soda and they would go back into the house and their mom would kick them out and would have to spray them down with a hose

2: (after the book) Darry and pony had gotten into a argument like brothers do and Darry Couldng handle it anymore and broke down in tears in front of both his brothers.

3: he has nightmares sometimes and they cause him to wake up in a panic and he would always have to check up on pony and soda to make sure they were okay

4: idk why some people like make him seem like a Facebook mom who likes minion memes and dad jokes. HES BARELY 20 YEARS OLD. He would probably say the most unfiltered ass shit in a group chat 😭

5: he gets those random urges to like kick or playfully hit pony or soda (I do that 😣)

6: ate rotten food once and work and got sick and his boss had to drive the boy home since he was so sick

7: will probably work himself till he makes himself sick like he Wont stop himself till someone stops him

8: hates seeming like a parent more then a older brother sometimes when the boys need reminders that Darry is still their brother Darry will start a game of tag and all the brothers will run around the house. (When they did that when their parents were alive they knocked down a special vase and they all got whooped)

9 : likes cats. He has a stray cat at work that he shares his lunch with he named it “kitty cat” sooooo creative righttt

10: doesn’t like ham (idk that just randomly appeared in my mind)

Extra: used to bite as a child and gags when those chunks of food in the sink hits his hands

Soda

1: stinks like car oil and pony will not allow him to get into the bed till he showers

2: likes grilled cheeses (me too bro)

3: he once caught Darry having a panic attack and didn’t really know what to do since he’s never really saw his brother like Cry like that so he was awkwardly comforting him😭

4: makes Radom sounds like with his mouth and it’s makes the others tweak

5: gets dates mixed up really easily

6: after Darry slapped pony, soda in a fit of like idk rage punched Darry square in the face.

7: WILL forget to clean under his fingernails.

8: Darry ate his food once and soda ignored him for the rest of the night. Anytime Darry Tried to talk to him soda would give him a snooty face and would cross his arms and say “mhmp”

9: cries when he watches dog movies (like all dogs go to heaven or a dogs purpose or a dogs way home)

10: has the most NASTIEST converse and refuses to clean them

Ponyboy

1: can only cook eggs he cannot cook anything else 😭

2: loves chocolate milk (I think that’s in the book)

3: tried Darry’s coffee once and almost threw up since it was so bitter

4: likes to race Darry since they were both in sports that involved a lot of running

5: stole one of Darry’s old sweatshirts and REFUSES to give it back. He loves that sweatshirt it’s like 2 sizes to big for him

6: (after the book) had a huge growth spurt after the book like it wasn’t even funny😭

7: since Darry and soda are such deep sleepers pony once drew like a “rocketship” and all those other things teenage boys draw he drew it on his brothers faces😣

8: chews his nails

9: has/had a crush on a soc girl and got teased by the gang relentlessly

10: (if it was like modern day idk) he would love headphones/airpods

Dallas

1: got chased by a dog and is forever traumatized from

2: would prolly stink like beer and sweat

3: bro can sleep through a tornado

4: bro prolly has the most greasiest hair

5: bro has a laugh that makes everyone else laugh

6: (before the Curtis parents died) dally finally made Darry sneak out with him and they ended up getting pulled up on by Mr Curtis and they both ended up getting in so much trouble 😭

7: made a your mom joke to the Curtis brothers and ended up getting jumped 😣

8: like those bland ass Cheerios

9: favorite fruit is cherries

10: bro will flip his underwear inside out and backwards since his nasty ass don’t wanna waste the time to wash the clothes

Steve

1: gets mad and when Darry doesn’t make chocolate cake 😣

2: bro will make himself at home at the Curtis house that couch practically as a ass imprint from him

3: likes strawberry shortcake (that’s his favorite dessert)

4: has so much beef with ponyboy they diss eachother anytime they get to

5: bro will HOG the bed if you share it with him

(Sorry his is kinda short 😣)

Two-bit

1: lost his Mickey Mouse shirt in the washer and thought he lost it forever

2: has a younger sister (protective brother)

3: knows how to braid hair

4: tried to recreate Darry’s infamous chocolate cake and he failed miserably 😭

5: he was really mad at Darry when pony ran away. When he found out he said straight in Darry’s face “good brother my ass.”

6: favorite Disney princess is belle (idk why I thought of that)

7: when he’s actually like serious the gang like tenses up a bit

8: knows all the drama from his younger sister he had beef with little kids he’s never even met

His lil sister: “yeah and Shelly and David are dating when she knew David was my crush and I told her too”

Two-bit: “I don’t like Shelly or David 🙄”

Johnny

1: (when the Curtis parents were alive) he once ran to the Curtis house after his father hit him super hard and Mrs Curtis took him in for the night giving him a hot meal and a warm shower and some clean clothes.

2: whenever he needs to crash somewhere he has a designated pallet that he sleeps on in the Curtis house

3: likes m&m popcorn

4: chews the side of his nails

5: can go days without eating

6: bro needs to wash that Jean jacket

(SORRY HIS IS SO SHORT)

[daydreaming-nerd]

The Bonds That Break Us (Rhysand x Female! Reader) Part 4

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Final Part

Request: "Would you do a Rhysand x fem!reader series? Maybe fem!reader is Rhysand's mate and Tamlin's sister? So secret love?"

AN: food's ready, come dish up guys

Summary: It was almost as if the cauldron liked to play games, as if it had sensed years of boredom and predictability and begged to be entertained. Its method of absolving its melancholy? Mate the High Lord of the Night Court to the younger sister of the High Lord of Spring. 

Warnings (so far): SMUT (consensual), oral (female receiving), intercourse, dirty talking, unprotected sex, masturbation, mind speak sexting?, physical abuse, mentions of SA.

Word count: 6993

(all photos are from pinterest)

That night, after Rhysand reclothed me, we talked about the future and how Tamlin needed to know, before things got messy with Eris or before he finds out and flips. All I had to do now was wait for the opportune time, which never seemed to come as Tamlin and Tarquin had been having tension. It seemed that part of the Spring Court’s lands on the border were prime farming spots for some of the spices that the farmers in the Summer Court grew. Tarquin had asked Tamilin to purchase the land and of course when Tamlin said no things started to get messy. Tamlin would go out and negotiate daily, and everyday he would come home angry. 

Tonight was no exception.

 I was sitting in one of the tea rooms reading my book when I heard him come home. The front door slammed, shaking the house, and then his office door slammed even harder.

I flinched. 

It has been like this for three days now. I looked at the clock on the wall and figured it was better for me to retire to my room with my novel for the night. 

I barricaded my door just for safety and crawled under the covers lighting a candle so that I could pick up where I left off. The main characters had finally confessed their love for one another and things were starting to get steamy. My eyes flitted across a particularly hot line and I felt my toes curl without warning once again. I should’ve known I was going to feel a little tug at the bond, but I was unprepared for the taut pull Rhysand gave me. 

Up late reading your dirty books mate? 

“Yes, I just needed the distraction,” I replied.

Did you tell your brother yet? 

I felt a pang of guilt, he had been waiting so dutifully for me to do so, and yet another day had passed where I was too scared, “I didn’t, he came home slamming doors and breaking vases again. I’m sorry Rhys.”

There’s no need to apologize. I want you to be safe after all. 

“Thank you for understanding,” I say sweetly

Of course mate. Now tell me what in this book has you all riled up? He says and I can hear his smirk. 

“A lady never kisses and tells,” I quip back. 

Ahh yes but ladies also don’t let strange men eat them out in secret rooms at balls. He says coolly. 

“Rhysand you little shit!” I laugh down the bond.

Come on my love, I’m dying to know what gets you off… Besides my tongue of course. 

I roll my eyes and try to send the emotion down the bond,  It’s nothing special really, he’s just fucking her, but he’s waited a while to do it so it’s extra steamy. I laugh. 

Poor bastard, I know the feeling. Rhys chuckles and I feel arousal flood between my legs. 

I can’t help but let my hand drift between my legs. Since Rhys touched me at the ball it’s all I’ve thought about (not that I would ever let him know). But suddenly the need for him has been so much stronger, I chalk it up to the mating bond strengthening, needing to be consummated.  I let my hand dip between my panties and I try to keep my emotions from flooding the bond, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing I could get off on his words alone. 

“Subtle Rhys,” I chuckle. 

I don’t need to be subtle, I told you exactly how it was going to go down that night at the ball did I not? 

My heart races and I let my finger on my clit speed up. 

“I suppose you’re right,” I say. 

Are you touching yourself darling? He purrs. 

Shit. 

“No,” I lie. 

You’re a terrible liar and you always have been, he chuckles.  I can feel you, my mate. 

“Damnit,” I curse, pulling my hand from my panties. 

Oh don’t you dare stop now, not when I’m currently fisting my cock. 

The image of Rhysand laying on his bed, naked, glorious and pumping his cock sends a wave of arousal straight through me and I practically scramble to shove my hands into my panties. 

Now tell me, are you playing with that beautiful little clit? The one I licked at the ball? 

Oh I was so in for it with this man, I was so utterly and terribly fucked. 

“Yes,” I admit quietly. 

Then I am terribly jealous of those delicate fingers. 

“Rhys,” I moaned back. It was all I could think about, him. 

Slip a finger in that tight little cunt won’t you darling? 

As stupid as it felt I did it, and god it felt good. Not as good as his felt, but it would have to do. 

“It doesn’t feel as good as you,” I say, trying to play the game. 

I hear him chuckle,  No my dear they don’t and they never will. 

“Are you close?” I ask, feeling my own orgasm coming. 

Let me hear those little begs again and I will be, he drawls. 

I know exactly what he means. After he feasted on me at the ball and I nearly jumped his bones afterwards. When he said he wanted to wait I pathetically let out a whine. 

“Please Rhys, I need you.” I plead. 

Fuck y/n, I hear him moan and it’s enough to make me hit my climax. 

“Oh fuck!” I cry down the bond. 

His own string of curses followed as he came himself and I could picture him lying there, chest sweaty and heaving, the aftermath of his orgasm all over him. It was almost enough to make me reach my hands down my panties again, almost. 

“So mind sex? That’s your thing?” I taunt him. 

A loud chuckle reverberates through my mind, No you’re my thing darling. 

“I’m flattered,” I laugh. 

A moment of silence passes and my chest continues heaving as I crawl further under the covers and blow out my candle. Romance book long forgotten. I sit in the quiet for a little longer waiting for Rhys to say something, until I finally speak up.

“Are you still there?” I ask timidly.

Always, simply catching my breath. How was your day today? 

“Boring, I don’t really have any friends here except my ladies maids and they are all terrible snoops. Tamlin has them in his back pocket.” I sigh. 

Just wait till you meet Nuala and Cerridwen, they’re snoops too. He laughs. 

“I can’t wait to,” I say.

I’m happy to finally hear you say that. He muses and I can practically feel his smile. 

“Well I better get some sleep. If I plan on telling Tamlin tomorrow I’ll need my wits about me.” I sigh. 

Goodnight darling, I love you.

There’s a hopefulness in his words. One I can’t meet. That phrase, ‘I love you’. I knew I should say it back. But I didn’t know what love meant. Didn’t know how it felt. I couldn't bring myself to return the sentiment. 

"Goodnight Rhys," was all I could say.

The next morning I woke up and Tamlin had already left, which was a damn shame because I would’ve liked to have told him before he had gone to fight with Tarquin all day. 

I paced most of the day in the tea room as I was beginning to grow antsy. Last night proved to me just how much I needed Rhysand, physically of course because of the bond. My skin was nearly sweating with need. I tried to read my book but it didn’t do much to help. I tried to go out and pick flowers for the dining table and it got me nowhere. To make matters worse it felt like Tamlin was gone for longer than usual as the darkness slid in, the moonlight shone, and all the lanterns and candles magically were lit.  

I started pacing in the foyer waiting for him to arrive home. Maybe he was taking so long because he had finally reasoned with Tarquin. I thought to myself. But as the doorknob jiggled and a fiery looking Tamlin came in I knew how dead wrong I was. 

“How was your meeting with Tarquin?” I asked, trying to seem sisterly, like that had ever won his affections. 

“Awful! The stubborn brute wants to take part of my land and only give me 20% of its profits per harvest!” he yells storming through the hall. I follow him. 

“20% isn’t bad, maybe you could show him what a generous High Lord you are by accepting the offer,” I chirped enthusiastically. 

“Are you out of your mind?” he whirls to look at me. “20% is cheap sister, not that you would ever have the mind for money. All you know how to do is spend mine.” 

“Tamlin, that's not fair and you know it.” I reason. 

“What does it matter anyways,” he rolls his eyes and begins storming off again. “You’ll be worth your weight in gold once you marry Eris and become his consort.” 

Fire boiled in my veins, “I already told you Tamlin, I don’t want to marry Eris. God how fucking selfish and cruel do you have to be to sell your sister off to a monster?!” I scream and as the words leave my mouth I already regret saying them. I had never been so bold in my life, at least not with Tamlin.

I don’t even have time to react before I feel a harsh slap across my face knocking me to the ground. “YOU ARE MY SISTER AND A WOMAN IN THIS COURT!” Tamlin screams at me. He picks me up by my hair, “and you will not question how I rule it.” 

Tears prick my eyes as the skin of my cheek burns. Tamlin releases my hair dropping my body to the ground and I’m left in a heap of tulle and tears as he slams his door. 

Are you okay? My mate calls into my mind.  

I press my cold hand to my cheek, “yeah I’m fine.” 

No you’re not, you're hurt. 

“I’m fine Rhys, it’s not bad,” I say, pulling myself up off the floor and winnowing to my room. 

What happened? 

I sigh, knowing he’ll badger me until he gets an answer. “I tried to get Tamilin to make amends with Tarquin so that he would be in a good mood and he hit me.” 

He hit you? I could hear him growling, feel the anger down the bond. 

“It’s really fine Rhys, I’m in my room now and I’m safe.” I say trying to calm him down. 

I’m going to fucking kill him y/n. I’m coming to get you right now. I’m not letting you stay there another minute. 

“Rhys please! Stop and be reasonable. If you barrel in right now it’s going to piss Tamlin off even more. He could hurt me or worse. We have to be civil about all this.” I reason with him. 

Fine, but no more after this y/n. I can’t stand it any longer. It’s killing me from the inside out. To know you’re in that horrible place. When you could be safe and warm here. 

“I promise I will figure this out, I just need time,” I assure him. 

I know you will, my beautiful strong mate.

“Tamlin hurry up, we're already late!” Lucien screams from the foyer. It was another council day and I had hoped that Tamilin would finally be able to reason with Tarquin.

Yesterday I went into town to shop for a new dress, it seemed I had exhausted all my other purple ones and I wanted more. I picked out a dress that was a far darker purple than any I had worn before. But it seemed fitting, seemed more Rhysand. 

“Let’s go,” Tamilin ordered entering the room in a huff. He peered at the dress I was wearing, “Purple again? I’d think you’ve grown tired of it by now.” 

Was this really his method of trying to make up for hitting me and yelling at me? Giving me a somewhat backhanded compliment?

“Viviane said that it was my color,” I replied, not entirely a lie. 

He didn’t say anything, just grabbed Lucien and winnowed us to the Night Court. 

I had no clue what to expect from the Night Court. I had never been before today. I had only ever heard stories. Stories of its darkness and its monsters. When we arrived I almost couldn’t believe that this is where Rhysand lived.

The large city under the mountain had a darkness to it, while faelights bobbed all around, it didn’t hide the darkness in the shadows that lingered. The city under the mountain was a metropolis, and it was terrifying with its large spires all around. Every surface is carved with lovely, hideous artwork: figures dance and fornicate, beg and revel. I was surprised Tamlin even allowed me to come with him today. 

We enter into a dimly lit chamber where all the Lords are already seated and waiting for us to arrive, Tamlin apologizes and chalks it up to me taking too long to primp, a lie of course. As my eyes scan the room I see only two chairs open and one happens to be next to Rhysand. I try to hide the smirk on my face as I take the seat next to him, forcing Tamlin to take the other one. 

You look ravishing as always. Croons Rhyand.

“Thank you, the dress is new,” I smile.

New and purple? You flatter me mate. He smirks. 

I chuckle down the bond, “Don’t flatter yourself too much, Vivianne said she liked me in purple as well.”

Well then I’ll have to thank Viviane later. He smiles. 

The council begins and just like I figured Tamlin and Tarquin laid into one another right away. All the other Lords but Rhysand and Kallias chimed in to solve the issue, but the winter and night court Lords seemed content to watch it all play out and I didn’t blame them. It took everything in me to not turn to the side to look at Rhys. His presence was so commanding especially in his own court and I had missed his face, those eyes, so much.

I felt a large hand being placed over my own under the table. 

You’re going to get me in trouble. I gripe at Rhys but flip my hand so I can hold his back.

Shh no one can see, I just wanted to feel you. 

Eventually the fighting dies down as the Lords end up forcing Tamlin to accept the deal Tarquin has offered and I try not to smile as my brother’s pissed off face. Turns out I was right and 20% isn’t such a low number after all. Rhys lets go of my hand to stand and address the room. 

“I think we’ve had more than enough political talk, why don’t we disband.” he states, and it sounds like his voice booms off the walls of the room. 

A murmur of agreement fills the room as the sound of obsidian chairs scratch the stone below, signaling that the lords are getting up. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I feel my stomach pit, is Rhysand stupid? But when I turn around I’m met with the raking stare of Eris Vanserra. 

“Hello my little fox, I was wondering if I might speak to you for a moment?” He asks, and I can practically feel Tamlin staring daggers into the side of my head.

“Yes of course my Lord,” I smile taking his arm. 

We promenade outside the council meeting room and into the hallway. I look up to find faint faelight glowing from large chandeliers, the walls are filled with tapestries and statues of people fucking and begging just like in the rest of the city. Large pillars shoot up from the aisles supporting the large room and I still wonder how Rhys could possibly live here. 

“I’m sorry for taking you away so soon, I know that you love to talk to Viviane, but I just had to see you,” Eris says. 

“No apologies necessary,” I reply, still taking in the sites around me. 

“I know that your brother and my father are still negotiating the terms of our marriage but I couldn’t wait to give you this,” he says before pulling a long black box out of his pocket, and opening it up. 

Inside lies a rather large and beautiful necklace. A huge golden crystal is attached by a string of glittering diamonds. If it was given to me by anyone else I would’ve thought it beautiful, but I knew it’s true meaning, it’s true purpose. It wasn’t just a piece of fine jewelry, it was a collar, meant to show everyone I belonged to Eris now. I took a mental deep breath. 

“Oh Eris, it’s beautiful!” I gasp, running my hands over the chain. 

“I knew you would like it,” he smiled. “Here allow me to help you put it on.” 

I turn around and feel him place the heavy jewel around my neck. The weight of it already making me feel shackled. His fingers dust over the nape of my neck fastening the clasp. He kisses my shoulder when he’s done and I feel his hands gently turning me around so he can see it on me. 

“It looks beautiful on you, like it was made for you,” he smiles, hand caressing my face.

“I love it, thank you,” I say, trying to hide my discomfort. 

“I promise you that when we are officially engaged you will have even bigger jewels,” he smirks, stepping forward even closer, causing me to step back. “And when we’re married even bigger jewels,” He croons and my back hits one of the many pillars. “But I’ll save the biggest and most expensive ones for when you bear me our first son.” he smirks and there’s nothing I can do to stop him from crashing his lips on mine.  

Eris kisses me hungrily and needily as my hands fly to the pillar my back is pressed on, any little movement to keep him farther away from me. His hands drop to wander my waist and I feel the entire room shudder causing pieces of dust to fly up everywhere. Eris pulls himself off of me. 

“What was that?” I ask afraid. 

“I’m not sure, I’ll go check,” Eris replies and he leaves me to run back to the council chambers to confer with the rest of the Lords. 

  I step forward from the pillar and take a deep breath. I start to follow Eris back to the council room but then my skin starts to buzz again and I stop in my tracks. Rhysand’s hands graze up my arms from behind me as he leaves gentle kisses on my neck. 

“That was you wasn’t it?” I smirk. 

“Maybe,” he smiles into my skin. “He had a lot of nerve kissing my mate in my court.”

“To be fair he didn’t know,” I giggle. 

“I don’t care, he was lucky I didn’t rip his head off,” he says, continuing to kiss my neck.

“This place is terrifying, how do you live here?” I laugh.

“I don’t, this place is just where I entertain other Lords,” he explains, kissing my neck still.  

“Then where do you live?” I ask, reaching up to press my hand against his face, encouraging him not to stop. 

He smiles against my skin, “I want you to tell your brother that you’re staying with Viviane again tonight.” 

“Why?” I ask. 

“Because, I finally have you here, in my court. I want you to stay here with me, even if it’s just for one night.” he emphasizes his statement with a long lick up my neck that has my toes curling in my shoes. 

I turn to look at him, “are you sure my brother won’t find out?” I ask, finally looking into those violet eyes I had been missing. 

“I’m positive,” he smiles and his eyes glance down to the necklace. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”

I roll my eyes, “Eris just gave it to me. He said it was a gift but it feels more like a collar.” I say straightening my shoulders in discomfort from the weight of it. 

Rhysand doesn’t say anything, he just reaches a hand around the back of my neck to unclasp the necklace. I immediately feel the weight fall off into his hand and he looks at it before chucking it somewhere in the room. 

“Rhys!” I laugh.

“Much better now we can see your pretty neck,” he smirks before leaning in to kiss me. I practically melt into his touch.

Because the rest of the Lord ganged up on him, Tamlin left early and just like Rhys asked, I told him I would be staying with Viviane tonight. Tamlin didn’t even bat an eyelash. It wasn’t long until the last couple, Kallias and Viviane, left.  I turned to see Rhys staring at me from across the room with that playful smirk I always wanted to kiss off his face. 

“Are you ready to go mate?” he asked, holding out his arm to mine. 

I took it eagerly, “To go where?” I asked earnestly. 

“To Velaris,” he smiled brighter than I had ever seen him smile before and before I could question further he winnowed us away. 

When the shadows cleared I was in a house. A lush, beautiful and homey house. Thick red wool carpeted the floor, and the walls were made of a rich wood. Comfy chairs and chaises were littered about and a warm fire sprung to life. It looked lived in and loved compared to the mansion in the Spring Court. 

“So this is where you live?” I ask taking in my sights. 

“Yes it is. The place we just were? We call it The Court of Nightmares, that’s where we conduct business to keep up appearances for other courts. But this is where I live, Velaris, the city of starlight.” he explains watching me take it all in. 

I look out a large window and see the golden fae lights of the village beyond. It sits below a large snow capped mountain. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and it already feels like home. 

“What do you mean we?” I ask. Before I can answer two large crashes come from the terrace outside causing me to jump. 

“I mean my cousin Mor, my second in command and of course Cassian and Azriel.” he says nodding to the doors where the two Illyrians from the ball are waltzing in. “Y/n this is Azriel, “ Rhysand nods to the one with the shorter hair and Azriel waves. “And this is Cassian.” he nods to the one with the longer hair. 

“Ahh yes the one that bites,” I muse. 

“Only sometimes,” Cassian chuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you y/n,” he says, holding out his hand. 

I shake it and my whole hand nearly disappears in his just like Rhysand’s. “The pleasure is all mine, I’ve never met an Illyrian before.” I say looking over his large wings. 

“Then you’re missing out for sure,” he says looking at Azriel who just rolls his eyes.

“Your wings are magnificent, would you mind if I…” my words fall short as I hold up my hand. 

“Touch them?” Cassian asks. “Go right ahead y/n,” he smirks, eyes flitting to Rhys. 

I reach my hand out to graze over the material of his wings, they feel like leather. They are rugged to the touch and I can tell that they have seen many years of battle. I hear what sounds like the snapping of leather behind me. I turn around and my jaw nearly hits the floor. There before me, Rhysand stands with his own Illyrian wings. 

“I have wings too you know,” Rhysand says  as  he tilts his head. 

Cassian erupts into laughter, “Feeling a bit jealous there Rhys?” he jokes. 

Rhys just rolls his eyes and pulls a hand out of his pocket and offers it to me. I take his hand, still too stunned to find Rhys with wings to even speak. 

“We’ll see you two later, I’m going to give y/n the rest of the tour,” Rhysand drawls leading me towards the stairs. 

“Goodnight you two,” Cassian drawls before taking off with Azriel. 

“I didn’t know you had wings” I say, still bewildered staring up at them. 

“It’s not really something I make a spectacle of. I only have them out when I’m going to use them, otherwise they tend to get in the way,” he explains, leading me up the stairs. 

“So you can shift back and forth between having them and not having them?” I ask. 

“Essentially, yes,” he says and shifts back to his wingless form just to prove the point.

“So what was the deal with me touching Cassian’s wings? Is that like taboo or something?” I ask, feeling my cheeks heat up remembering how Cassian smirked at Rhys when I asked. 

“Illyrians can feel through their wings and are known to attack first and ask questions later if they are touched without invitation. It was basically like if you ask if you could touch his abs,” Rhysand chuckles. 

“Oh,” I said, my heart stopping. “Now I feel bad.” 

“Don’t feel bad, Cassian loves teasing me. He let you touch his wings just to watch my face as you did so,” Rhys laughed again, opening a door to our left. “This is one of the guest rooms.” 

I look around at the somewhat dark room, the same lush carpet coats the floor along with the same wooden paneling. It was quaint and perfect. Rhys continued leading us down the hall to show me another guest room which was much like the first just a little bit bigger. He explained that they were the rooms Cassian and Azriel slept in for Solstice. 

“And this is my room,” he explained before opening the door to the last room in the hallway. 

The room is much larger than the other two, the huge bed was made with dark black and purple blankets and pillows. I heard the door close as I continued to explore. The bed sat next to a balcony that had the same view of the living room, the village lit with fae lights and the snowy mountain. To the left was a large bathroom with a bathtub, large enough I realized, to fit Rhysand’s wings. 

“Your room is-” 

“Our room. This is our room now.” he says and I turn to meet his gaze. “I’ve waited so long to see you standing here. In Velaris, in the townhouse, in this room.” 

“And what is it that I’m normally doing in this room, Rhys?” I smile, faking my innocence. 

“Well,” he drawls, stepping closer to me. “It goes a little something like this,” he muses before placing a hand on my cheek and kissing me. 

This kiss is different, less heated than all the others we shared before it. It holds all the passion of what’s to come, what we both know is coming. His hands slide to my waist and I let out a small moan and I can feel Rhys trying not to smile. My hands tangle in his hair pulling him closer as I feel my legs hit the mattress. He pulls me closer to him so I don’t fall and I feel him turn me around so my back is facing him. 

“Normally I would use my magic to take your clothes off,” he says voice low, his hands unlacing the corset in my dress. “But I want to take my time with you tonight,” he continues undoing the last lace. 

I nearly melt at his words, but I feel the dress start to fall and I grab the top of it to keep it from falling down. The dress didn’t allow for any undergarments meaning I would be completely bare to him. 

Rhysand places a kiss on my shoulder, “You’ve never let a man see you naked before have you?” he asks. 

“No I haven’t,” I say shyly. I feel a moment of fear but turn around and let my dress fall to the floor in a giant pile of purple chiffon. Rhysand’s eyes rake down my body and I move to cover my breast with my arms as pink tints my cheeks. 

“Don’t you dare cover those perfect breasts mate,” he says gently, pulling my arms away. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I’m so lucky to call you my mate.” he kisses me again, absolving any fear I have as I feel his hands finally roam my naked body. I push him away lightly. 

“I want to see you too,” I say breathlessly looking into his eyes that are suddenly a darker shade of violet than they were before. 

“As my mate commands,” he smirks, standing back to take off his clothes. His eyes locked on mine, never breaking eye contact until he stood before me completely bare. 

I let my eyes rake down on him. His body ripples with strong and lean muscles, the upper part of his chest and shoulders are covered in swirling tattoos. My eyes dare to travel lower over his abs to his straining cock. All I can think to myself is there’s no way that’s going to fit inside me.

Rhysand chuckles, stepping towards me, “I promise it will fit mate.”

“Shit I said that out loud?” I curse ducking my chin in embarrassment. 

“No you didn’t, but your thoughts were so loud you might as well have,” he laughs tilting my chin up to meet his eyes. 

My eyes drift down to his chest again and I finally let my hands wander the muscles on his chest. His skin soft and smooth under my fingers, I run them up his abs, over his pecs, across his shoulders and down his arms earning a low groan from him. I take his hands and place them on my waist, throwing my own over his shoulders and as I look into his eyes the words just tumble out of me. 

“I love you Rhys,” I breathe. 

“You don’t have to say it just because I said it the other day,” he says almost sadly. 

“I’m not. I love you Rhysand,” I smile. 

A smile spreads across his face, “I love you too mate.” 

His hands pull me closer to him and I can feel my breasts pressing against his chest as he seals our lips again. This time the kiss is more needy as I feel my heart rate pick up. His frame backs me up and I can feel his cock pressing into me making me practically moan into the kiss. 

My legs hit the mattress again, this time he lets me fall onto the bed. I open my eyes and watch his eyes rake down me again, nothing short of a predatory gaze behind them. His knees hit the mattress and he crawls over me, caging me in with his arms. He kisses me deeply and begins to move his lips down my jaw and to my neck again. I can feel his restraint as he tries not to leave love bites all over me. His lips go lower and lower and my chest starts to heave in anticipation of what I think is next. 

“Your breasts,” he says, kissing the top of each one. “Are the most beautiful pair of breasts I’ve ever seen. I should���ve worshiped them the moment that dress hit the floor.” He smirked.

He started kissing the underside of each breast, then the sides and then the tops again purposefully avoiding the one place I wanted his mouth the most, making me squirm. 

“And these pretty pink nipples,” he says before finally taking one in his mouth and suckling. 

“Oh fuck,” I breathe having my back arch into him. His other hand comes up to draw little circles on my other nipple. 

“Dirty mouth mate,” he teases before resuming his menstrations.

My hands fly to his hair as I pull him closer to me needing more of him. Needing all of him. 

“Wouldn’t want this one to think I don’t love it,” he smirks before sucking my other bud into his mouth. 

“Rhys please,” I breathe tugging at his hair. 

“So eager are we mate?”  he says kissing down my body till he gets to my core. He skips over it and sits up, taking my leg and kissing my ankle. He draws a path of kisses all the way down my leg till he reaches the inside of my thigh. He gives me an evil grin before sitting up and beginning to do the same with the other leg.  

“Ugh Rhysand!” I groan, causing him to chuckle. 

“I told you I wanted to take my time mate,” he chuckles against my calf.  “Was there a certain body part you were hoping I would kiss?” he asks suggestively.

“Your favorite part,” I muse. 

“You cruel wicked thing. As if I could ever just choose one part of you to be my favorite.” he says, acting wounded, putting my leg down. He leans into my pussy and places a kiss there running a finger through my folds. “Though I will say that one of my top contenders is this pretty little clit.” he hums lowly before flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves. 

“Ahh,” I scream, my hands going straight to his hair. 

“Precisely why I love it. I love the little sounds you make when I lick it,” he growls before diving in to feast on me. 

“Oh my gods Rhys!” I scream, grinding my hips into his face. 

That’s right y/n I wanna hear everything. We’re not in Beron’s office anymore, scream for me mate. He says into my mind and I do. 

I scream and writhe and moan. My eyes flit down to where his mouth is attached to my pussy. His darkened eyes look up at me watching the pleasure rake through my body. One of his hands comes from my hip and I feel his fingers tease my entrance before he slides one into me. His mouth continues suckling on my clit as his fingers curl to massage that spot inside of me that I didn’t know was there until he touched it at the ball. 

Gods your pussy tastes so good. After we’re officially mated I promise to spend a whole night between your legs eating you out until you can’t move. 

“Rhys!” I scream, his words my undoing as I cum on his tongue. He works me through my orgasm until my legs stop shaking and then he pulls his finger from me. He places a kiss on my clit one last time before moving up the bed. He watches me as he sucks all my leftover cum on his finger off. 

I grab his neck and pull him down to kiss me again. He slips his tongue into my mouth and I can taste myself on him. My hands run down his back feeling the powerful muscles there,  gods I could just sit here and touch him all day. He was as beautiful as I had pictured him that one night not too long ago. He was everything and he was mine. 

“That’s right mate, I am yours,” he said between kisses. Clearly my thoughts we’re projecting again. 

“And I am yours Rhys,” I breathe, and he takes a moment to study my face trying to read if I really mean it, like he thought the words would never leave my mouth.  

“Mine,” he grumbles, connecting our lips again. “Beautiful and perfect and all fucking mine.” 

I feel his cock nudging my entrance and I gasp. I want it, I want all of him, but I’m scared. 

“Rhys I’m scared, I’ve never had sex before,” I say. 

“Don’t worry darling I wasn’t going to push in yet. Do you think you’re ready?” he asks sweetly. 

“Yes I’m ready,” I nod. 

“Okay tell me if it hurts too much and I’ll stop right away okay?” He says, kissing my forehead. 

“I will, I promise,” I assure him, cupping his cheek. 

“Here we go,” he says and I feel the tip of his cock at my entrance and it’s enough to have a large wave of arousal flood between my legs once more. 

He pushes his tip in and I start to feel the burn but I don’t say anything as he slowly continues to push in. I feel him stretching me and the mixture of pleasure and pain starts to take over my body. Once he’s nearly fully inside me I wince and he stops. 

“Shh it’s okay, you’re doing so good my mate,” he coos, kissing my brow. 

“I’m good now, keep going,” I breathe. 

I feel him bottom out inside me and I scream in both pain and pleasure once more. 

“Fuck y/n,” he groans, but he doesn’t move trying to give me time to adjust. I relish how full I feel with him all the way in me and I look down at his arms. His muscles are taught and his veins are nearly popping and I realize it’s taking everything inside of him not to pull his cock out and slam it into me. The thought of him taking me so rough puts butterflies in my stomach. 

“Rhys please move,” I cry trying to rock my hips into him. 

He pulls out a little and thrusts back in and I hold back my cry as he does it again. He starts to build up a good slow tempo and after a while the pain disappears. 

“Fuck you’re taking me so good, you’re doing so good mate.” he groans trying to keep himself from losing control. 

“Harder Rhys,” I whine running my hands through his hair. 

“No I don’t want to hurt you,” he shakes his head watching his cock disappear inside of me looking for any hint of discomfort. 

He’s being gentle, trying to make sure I feel good. But all I can think of are his whimpers and moans from when he stroked his cock a few nights ago, and how desperately I want to hear them again. How desperately I want my pussy to be the thing that draws them from his lips. 

I grab his face and force him to look at me so that he can see how dead serious I really was, “Rhys I want you to fuck me,” I ordered him. 

“Fuck y/n,” his eyes widened and I could see all resolve has left exit his body. 

His hips thrusted into me harder and I strangled cry left my mouth as he continued to fuck me. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room as my nails raked down his back, bringing those moans of his to the surface, I could’ve came right there. 

“Fuck Rhys it feels so good,” I say blissfully. 

“Gods mate how is your pussy so tiny and tight?” he groans into my neck fucking me harder. “You feel so good wrapped around me.” 

I feel his lips crash onto mine again, hips never faltering. I can barely keep our lips attached as he keeps pulling moans from me and all I can think is how utterly his I am. 

“Say it again,” he grits out and I know exactly what he means. 

“I’m yours Rhysand,” I hum. 

“Mine,” he grunts fucking me even harder. 

The new pace has me seeing stars as I grip onto his shoulders leaving crescent shaped marks in his skin. I feel the ever familiar knot in my stomach growing and I’m moments away from cumming with his name on my tongue. 

“Rhys I’m gonna cum,” I warn him and I can see the muscle in his jaw flicker. 

“Me too. Cum with me mate,” he grunts before flicking my clit. I crumble the moment he flicks the sensive bud. 

“OH GOD RHYS!” I scream digging my nails into his back again. 

“Oh fuck y/n,” he groans, hips stuttering as he spills his seed into me. 

We’re a heap of sweat and ragged breaths as he keeps himself propped up as not to crush me. My hands smooth back his hair and I leave sweet kisses on his brow. 

“I love you so much Rhys,” I whisper in his ear leaving a kiss there. I mean every word, my soul so full of love for him that tears prick my eyes. 

“I love you too y/n.” he smiles, pressing our lips together. 

He sits up pulling out of me and I feel a breath escape my lips, disappointed at the sudden emptiness. He sits on his knees and I watch as he stares between my legs. His eyes light up in amusement. 

“What?” I giggle sitting up a little on my arms. 

“I’ve waited forever to have this view,” he smirks. 

“What view?” I ask.

“You, naked, in my bed, with my cum dripping out of your pussy.” he muses, leaning over me again. “Totally and completely mine.” he smiles, kissing me again.

I hum in approval at his words and kiss him harder feeling his skin melt against mine. I try to pour every ounce of love I have into it. The way he kisses me has me seeing stars and I suddenly feel hot again, like I need more of him. 

“Rhys I want more,” I say between kisses. 

“I fuck you one time and you already want more?” he chuckles. “Don’t worry mate, I’m not done with you yet.”

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[mihawkhugs]

peach shampoo

haikyuu | miya atsumu x reader | soulwords

a/n : i'm sorry in advance i think?

Miya Atsumu couldn't help but stare at the champagne coloured bottle of shampoo, that sat quietly against the pristine white shelves of the store. The familiar label, the adorable butt shape he used to tease you about, the smell of peach that reminded him of you, it was all nothing but bitter memories now. 

As he picked up the bottle, he couldn't help but rub the soul words on his wrist. What was once coloured a beautiful ebony, had faded into a murky grey, looking lifeless, looking sick, looking gone. As he puts the shampoo into his cart, Miya Atsumu can't help but think of you, of your laugh, of your smile, of your patience and kindness, of your 4, almost 5 years together. 

He can't help but muse, almost dazedly, about how things seemed to end so quickly, and how your blissful times seemed to end so suddenly. 

All because of him. 

Habits are a terrifying thing. You've become so ingrained into every aspect of his life so subtly, that your departure had him feeling frustrated, upset, and most of all, terrified at how deep he had fallen. 

He couldn't fall asleep at night anymore, not when the bed felt so empty, so cold, so alone. Not when there's no one there to entangle themselves with him, stroking his hair, mumbling his name, smelling of peaches and of home. 

Sometimes, at his games, whenever he did a particularly nasty serve, Miya Atsumu jumps for joy, looking for you in the crowds to boast about. But you didn't watch his games anymore, you didn't even come. And Miya Atsumu couldn't help but feel so alone, despite his thousands of fans cheering for him, and his team mates beside him, rejoicing in their win.

He never knew that cheers could make him feel so lonely when they weren't yours. 

When he comes home, Atsumu can't help but anticipate your voice, soft, sleepy and full of love and warmth, calling out to him, "Welcome home Tsumu." He used to be annoyed with your greetings, feeling tired and grumpy from a whole day of training. Your questions bothered him, your tone annoyed him, and he'd give you a look so cold, said words so mean, that hell could have frozen over, and the Devil would have cried. 

But you would always come back even when he apologised half-heartedly, or not at all,  claiming you should have know to give him space, to be less clingy, to be less you. And you'd smile, with sun in your eyes, and peaches on your hair, and you'd forgive him, and come back. He thought he knew you, and was sure you would return. It was just a matter of waiting for you.

You always came back, again and again, until one day, you didn't. And his home, had never seemed so cold before. 

Your little lamps, figurines, drawings were all still in his house. When you left his life, you didn't leave everything behind, leaving behind shards and fragments of you. Your pillow still smelt faintly of your peachy scent, your workplace remained untouched, and your plants were left behind, wilting a little despite Atsumu trying his best to take good care of them. 

He missed seeing your peach shaped (or as he used to say, butt shaped) shampoo in his bathroom, which had unknowingly become a scent that he was so fond of. He missed seeing you on your desk, small hands typing slowly on your keyboard, with the most adorable focused face on earth. He missed seeing your warm smile, that made him feel like he had eaten his grandmother's cooking again. He missed hearing your laugh, they way your snorted, the way your right eye crinkled more than your left, they way your dimples would flash. 

Too bad he didn't miss them soon enough. 

Sometimes he'd remember you, sitting on your couch, gently touching your soul words, as though they were the most fragile thing on earth. You believed in love, so so much, despite growing up in a broken household. You had loved him the way you loved your cat, the way you loved your books, the way you loved life.  You treated him as though he was the most precious thing on earth, giving him undivided love and care, kissing him softly on his forehead, just as you had wished your parents had done for you. You loved, you learnt to love, because the world did not love you, and you would rather die that have anyone grow up loveless, cold. 

But Miya Atsumu didn't believe in love. Not when he had girls throwing themselves at him, not when he was praised as the best setter in Japan. He would make snide comments about your weight, your clothes, the was you smiled, the way you talked. He was the best of the best, the cream of the crop, and to his disdain and disgust, you didn't fit into his expectations of a soulmate. So he sought out love in other places, in other people, who he believed was better, while you waited for him, at hime in the dark, oh so very alone. 

Miya Atsumu thought he had it all (thought he deserved better), until he didn't. 

As he walked through the aisles in the store, Miya Atsumu can't help but remember the day you left. 

Your once chubby cheeks had looked gaunt, and you had looked so tired, dressed messily in your peach pink shirt, and your grey sweatpants. You had a cooling pad pasted against your head, and you looked messy, and not the picture perfect fiancé he wanted you to be. 

As you were about to leave the house, Miya Atsumu had stopped you, eyes looking up and down critically against your figure, nose scrunching in distaste. He had snidely commented on you, comparing you to the beautiful blonde model who had followed him on his Instagram page. 

"You look so ugly. Why did I get stuck with you as my soulmate?"

 If Atsumu had looked up from his phone, he would have seen your face crumple and fall, heard your heart finally shatter after being hurt again, seen the exhaustion in your eyes, the bitterness and jaded look he had once seen on your divorced parents. As you hesitantly twisted your engagement ring, you left the house quietly, returning later on, with steely determination. 

But of course, Miya Atsumu didn't notice as usual, because he was too busy chatting up the hot blonde model, who had DM'ed him, showering her in compliments, sending her flirty comments. He seemed to be able to love everyone, but yourself. 

When you had returned, he was in bed, still on his phone, ignoring you as you slipped in quietly, feeling cold despite being in a heated room, with the supposed love of your life beside you.

You had taken of your ring for the first time, placing it on the dresser, placing it down alongside your hopes and dream about a kind lover, about a beautiful love, and a happy wedding. You placed down your hopes and dreams about love, and something seemed to ache so bad in your chest. 

You had turned, and smiled at Atsumu, as soft and kind as the first day you both met in high school. Your tone was as warm as usual, but what came out of your mouth was bitter, was simmering with rage, and the grief of a broken heart, and a soulmate who was never really yours. 

"You know what Atsumu? You were right, just like you always are. Love doesn't exist."

He had ignored your words, and you couldn't help but smile wistfully, looking at your soulmate who was texting someone, and what you both could have been. 

When Atsumu had come back at night the next day for training, you were gone, leaving only your non-essentials behind. He had waited for you to come back, like you always did, like he knew you would, but you never did. 

And while his house was empty, his heart felt lonelier than ever, loosing someone he never knew had become precious to him.

All that remained that night was the scent of peaches and regret. 

Miya Atsumu placed the newly bought shampoo in his bathroom, in the spot where you used to put it, "Right beside yours so we're always together!", you'd proclaim.

As he took a shower before laying in bed, admiring his new soft and scented hair, he can't help but look at the barren spot where you used to lay, reaching out for one of the plushies he had won for you, that you had cruelly left behind. 

And tonight, he prayed that the smell of peaches, would overpower the scent and ache of loneliness in his home, because you were gone, and never coming back.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

Chapter 002: Wing Man

You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020

word count: 7.2k words

NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol

pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)

author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl&lt;3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

��With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

[pedropascalluv]

when you know, you know.- Finnick Odair

You and Finnick have always had a bond. It was undeniable. Many were jealous of the love you two shared as best friends, even if they always thought you two had something more going on you both denied it every time. Now that The Hunger Games are officially over, you and Finnick decided to stay around District 4 (Other than going to visit Peeta and Katniss) this was where you two grew up together, it was your home.  

The front door closes and you know exactly who it is as the footsteps get closer to my room and there he is giving you the big smile you love so much “You reading?” he lays next to you the smell of the sea becomes stronger “yup, did you catch anything?” you breathe in the salty aroma “Yes ma'am I did, how about we cook and then you can catch me up on your book?” you drop the book now staring at him “That's just about all we do”

“We live a simple life”

“That we do” he gets up 

“I’m gonna go take a quick shower”

“I’ll start preparing the food”

you decide to play music while you get started and because you did that you didn't hear Finnick coming up behind you, his hands moving to your waist "Can you not scare me when I have a knife in my hand, I will stab you." he laughs “you would never do such a thing” he grabs the knife in your hand placing it on the counter and bringing you close to his chest “Finn you know I’m a shit dancer don’t even try it” of course this doesn’t stop him, his hand resting on your lower back “come on just feel the song” you tried, you really did but feeling one hand moving the hair out of your face and the other was trailing up and down your back it was quite distracting 

“I love you” you smile squeezing his hand  “I love you too” his face is serious more serious than you've ever seen on him “No I love you in a way a best friend shouldn’t, you are my whole life and I’m sorry if this is a lot all the sudden but this war is finally over and I should’ve told you years ago but I- I didn’t want to lose you. I can’t keep acting like I’m not completely in love with you” You pause your head spinning as the grip on his hand has gotten even stronger.

 “You're in love with me?” 

“Yes” there was nothing but silence in the kitchen "I don’t know what I was-” he stops talking and starts to walk away but you grab his hand. 

 “You remember when we kissed right before I went into the games the second time?” he asks you nod the smile on your face not faltering “was that real, did you mean that or was it just a in the moment type thing? because I understand if it was” he was looking at the ground you cup his jaw his eyes meeting yours “It was real. I couldn’t even form a sentence sitting in that room with you. I didn't know how I was going to say goodbye to my best friend, the guy I've been in love with since I was a little kid. I knew you would go back into the games, and you might not be coming back. I couldn't lose you” his eyes glossy with tears threatening to escape “God I love you so much Finnick” Within a millisecond your lips were on his, the distant memory of when you first kissed him back when they announced that Finnick would go back in for the 3rd quarter quell the familiar feeling made you smile against his lips he pulled you away briefly his smile beaming back at you, he leans in your foreheads now touching 

“I love you more.”

“You are so competitive.”

“I am. And I always win” you roll your eyes at him 

“I take it back I don’t love you and your cocky ass.”

“No taking it back your stuck with me darling” he shrugs kissing your forehead "I love you more end of discussion" you say running to your room Finnick not far behind you go on the other side of your room he grabs you and throws you on the bed hitting you with a pillow you laugh covering your blushing face "I love you more" before you can say anything else he kisses you with more passion and hunger.

I guess when you know, you know.

-I might make more with Finnick but I will be posting something about Sejanus from tbosas so get ready-

[cobalior]

Winx Club functional books

It's me again ! I know, weird that I'm more active in a week than I was in the last years, but hey I'm feeling productive so why not make some stuff out of it.

I feel like there's not enough activities for your kids in the Sims 4, like we don't really build their personnalities while they're children before turning them into teens and it bothered me. In my mind, it's at that stage that we truly discover how life works, what we like and what we would like to discover and learn throughout the years. It's at that stage that I discovered how much I loved books, and now it's my studying field !

So, in a nostalgic way because this series is one of the firsts I read as a child, and because my child sims need some love too, I made those 6 books for them to read (is there even any books for kids in this game ?)

They work as volume 1 of the logic skills so your sims will also gain some skills while reading (but as they level up, they might get bored)

This set is entirely base game compatible, they don't override any book and you can have as many book as you want in your game !

They can be read by children up to elders

I only did the first season because it took a long time to just make those six (even if the longest was to create the model I used throughout the whole collection) but I plan to make other seasons later (Aisha doesn't appear until the first book of the second season, I might at least make her book and release it before the entire second season is created as they are like 20+ books in that season)

The entire set is written is simlish BUT the books I referenced are written in french, so that's on french that I based the simlish textes + the title and the summary of the set in game are written in french (I'm sorry, I couldn't find the english version, but if you know of any, I will try to add them in the future)

I wanted to make pages for the interior, but the game works in a way that the two that are shown when your sims are reading books are the same, so it would be a bit weird to have two identical detailed pages next to the other. Thus, I took the lyrics from the opening credits in the TV shows (in french again) and copied/pasted them on those pages. Now you have a semi themed read, but not that substantial

TOU : You can recolor, edit and use my custom content as you like, but please don't steal my content, don't reupload and claim as your own or tag me if you made any slight change. I would love to see how you use it in your own game, don't hesitate to share some screenshots with me and I hope you like what I create as much as I love creating it <3

Download

You can find the whole design for the first book here :

Simlish font by @franzillasims once again, thank you so much for those resources <3

[danieyells]

@2flowerz NOW I CAN POST THEM LOL HERE'S ED TO START WITH

PERVY OLD VAMPIRE IS AN ABSOLUTE GOOBER. . .he's also very very tired. But he has a very nice reaper taking care of him and a friendly dog that wants him to go outside more, so he has people who love and care for him even though he's. . .a little troublesome haha.

also I changed the format from previous posts and added the specific times and seasons and such for each dialogue! this should help lessen some confusion about how to get them.

Hello: (the first time the game is opened after that character is set as home screen NPC. Only happens once per day, unless the character is switched out and back.)

"Ah, there you are. I've a favor to ask of you— come to my room and I'll explain."

You've Got Mail: (whenever there's something in the inbox, usually Arena rewards)

"Oh? It appears we have some letters. Alas, my eyesight is not what it used to be. Read them out to me, would you?"

well maybe if you didn't stare at your tablet all day. . . .

Default: (requires no affinity, has no time constraints)

"I have much to learn about the human world... Rui is teaching me a lot, but I cannot seem to divorce myself of careless blunders."

y'know, it's good he's trying to learn anyway. 400 years old is never too late.

"What did I do before Darkwick? I eked out a humble existence in Eastern Europe. Hm? The most powerful vampire? No, those are just rumors. "

didn't you confirm it yourself in the main story though--also if he was living in eastern europe for the past 400-ish years i wonder if he saw lyca when he was young, even if in passing? then again eastern europe isn't exactly small.

"I was taken by a sudden whim to travel abroad. I had heard good things about Japan so I came over to play, but alas, I was captured."

so he went to japan just to have a nice time for a while but the Institute decided to keep him trapped in Darkwick. . .and then they didn't listen to any warnings or concerns he had. . .no wonder he doesn't give a shit what's going on around here, why would he? They abducted him while he was on vacation--and for what?

"I have no interest in harming humans. After all, they die so quickly. They should enjoy their short lives while they can."

"(cough cough) Oh, it's you... I'm feeling worse than usual today. I don't suppose you could carry me to bed?"

Affinity 1: (between 5am and 11am)

"(yawn) Good morning... What time is it? ...Still that early? Wake me up again at midday, would you?"

honestly Ed? Mood.

Affinity 2: (between 11am and 4pm)

"If this is about a mission, I can't help you, I'm afraid. I leave such day-to-day duties to Rui, so I suggest you ask him instead."

Affinity 3: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"I'm more or less confined to this house most days, for various reasons. I'm on my best behavior. But I'll do what I can to support you from the sidelines."

y'know, he's offering to help a little even at Affinity 3 and that counts for something in my book.

Affinity 4: (between 8pm and 5am)

"My favorite channel should be posting a new video at any moment... Sorry, but could we continue this tomorrow?"

you have not yet reached the stage of friendliness where you're more important than a youtube video lmao

Affinity 5: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I don't suppose you know where Rui is? How troubling... My YouTube video has stopped playing..."

well at this hour i'd check either the bar or his room???

Affinity 6: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Oh, it hurts... I cannot seem to shake this ache in the place Rui touched me earlier... I think I'll rest a while."

so it seems like either his limbs pop off/part of him breaks open when Rui touches him, or he suffers a great deal of pain for an extended period of time, maybe his body actively fighting extremely rapid necrosis? Rui did say that he basically insta-kills anyone who isn't super strong, so Ed being in excruciating pain instead of dying or losing a limb now and then makes sense.

Affinity 7: (between 11am and 4pm)

"I can't survive much sunlight. Without my parasol, I can barely go outside... (sigh) It really is quite punishing..."

Affinity 8: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"Sounds like Lyca's having fun, from all that yapping. I think it's good for him to develop some temporary bonds with humans at this time in his life."

Affinity 9: (between 8pm and 5am)

"I felt the urge to go stargazing, so I went to a hill nearby, but Towa was there already and he chased me away."

TOWA STOP BEING MEAN HE actually he probably would have bothered you and if he smells like a corpse to you that would have been annoying even if he didn't talk to you BUT STILL DON'T BE MEAN.

Affinity 10: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You ought to be getting ready for bed. Me? Oh, I'll turn in soon... Just one more YouTube video."

Affinity 11: (between 5am and 11am)

"Are you going for a walk? Take care not to spend too long in the garden. Humans are rather susceptible to the miasma there."

WE NEVER DID LEARN ABOUT THE MIASMA. WHAT'S UP WITH THE MIASMA WHY'S THE AIR IN OBSCUARY FUNKY.

Affinity 12: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Do you realize that human society is controlled by a shady cabal of elites? There are many videos about it on YouTube."

I AM ONCE AGAIN ASKING FOR HIS LAPTOP TO BE TAKEN AWAY OR TIME ON IT RESTRICTED. . .HE'S INTO CONSPIRACY THEORY YOUTUBERS HE'S GONE TOO FAR DOWN THE RABBITHOLE

Affinity 13: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"The ghouls are rioting again? Ah ha ha ha, they certainly are full of energy. If you'll excuse me, I was in the middle of a YouTube video."

he simply does NOT GIVE A FUCK lmao the ghouls could be dying out there and he'd probably shrug it off. Maybe keep an eye on things with his sixth sense or have some bats watch. Maybe that's part of why so many ghouls dislike him? he doesn't have any concerns for their plights and problems?

Affinity 14: (between 5am and 11am)

"How strange... I can't find my other sock. I could have sworn I put it here... Have you seen it?"

Affinity 15: (between 5am and 11am)

"Lyca made a mess again? Ah ha ha ha. Try not to judge him too harshly—he's not human, after all."

i think even for non-humans there's some cleanliness to be strived for. . .even pigs are pretty clean animals from what I hear. . . .

Affinity 16: (between 11am and 4pm)

"Rui? Is my lunch ready yet? ...Oh, it's you. You wouldn't happen to be feeling heartsore, would you?"

he's asking if you're sad because he feeds off of tears more than blood. . . . .he wanted to see if you'd cry for him. . . . . . .wait how does Rui usually go about doing this!? Does he cry every day for him???

Affinity 17: (between 10pm and midnight)

"Rui has his tavern work at this hour. He made sure I had everything I needed before he left, though."

ed's all cozy in bed with a nice bottle of tears and his fully charged tablet, all the dirty laundry's off his floor and everything--and now you're here! everything is perfect.

Affinity 18: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Has night fallen already? Do keep in mind that my vitality returns at this hour. You really should be more careful."

i'm kinda getting Taiga vibes here where as his affinity goes up he kind of clearly wants to eat you more, except where Taiga kinda tried to keep away from doing it until Affinity 24 where he snaps and ties you down and starts hurting you, Ed just starts warning you 'you're in danger being around me right now' lol. When he tells you to be careful he makes the sadist face, so he is telling you to be careful around him specifically. . . .

Affinity 19: (between 10pm and midnight)

"You can't sleep? Come, close your eyes. I'll hold you in my arms until you surrender yourself to the land of slumber."

isn't Ed's skin cold. . .I feel like it may be hard to sleep like that for most people lol then again maybe he'd be perfect for temperature regulation?

Affinity 20: (between 5am and 11am)

"Ah, thank you for coming so early. I slept even worse than usual last night... The cleaning can wait. Let me rest my head on your lap, would you?"

'the cleaning can wait' huh. . .is this another Jin situation where he's started to expect you to clean up his room all the time lmao I MEAN RUI ONLY CLEANS IT ONCE A MONTH SO A LITTLE SUPPLEMENTARY CLEANING WOULDN'T HURT. . . .

Affinity 21: (between 11am and 4pm)

"How are you finding Obscuary? Anomalies live quite differently to humans, so you're adapting to it remarkably well... Perhaps you're predisposed?"

'hey i know you're probably scared about becoming an anomaly that will harm your loved ones and all but you may already be showing signs so you should just stop worrying and join us!' also do they really live so differently. . .so far the main difference is cleanliness lmao

Affinity 22: (between 4pm and 8pm)

"My, where did the time go? Talking to you is just so relaxing. Why? Perhaps it's because I know I could feast upon you at any moment."

in Japanese he says something like "The sense of security of being able to strike at any moment"--he's saying he could bite you and you're so comfortable with him you wouldn't even put up a fight before he could do it. He's making his 'sadist' face, but I think he means it in a 'you're relaxed around me, and it makes me feel comfortable to' way. . . .or not. He could just mean that he appreciates you as easy prey 8D

Affinity 23: (between 8pm and 5am)

"Really. You became embroiled in another petty human dispute? How absurd you humans are. Come here."

he feels so bad for you and always getting involved in some shit. . .you know you wouldn't have to do any of this if you abandoned your humanity and just became an anomaly?

Affinity 24: (between 10pm and midnight)

"So, you've come sneaking into my room in the middle of the night? You really are a wicked girl. What were you hoping for? Go on, say it."

Do you want him to feed off of you? Or do you want him to feast upon you? Or were you just that starved for his company? I feel like he's willing to put aside his tablet for you at this point, especially if you're coming into his window late at night for a little tryst.

Affinity 25(max): (no time constraints)

"Being with you brings up old, old memories... Perhaps it's because you remind me a little of her."

well he is hundreds of years old, so of course he had lovers in the past. . .I wonder if she was also mortal, and if he refuses to see humans and anomalies as compatible because of heartbreak. Or maybe he doesn't get heartbroken like some humans do, and it's just nostalgia. But for someone who struggles to remember things sometimes to have old memories stirred up, I think that's a good thing. He must feel quite old at this point, but having someone around who reminds him of being even a little younger must be nice, even if he doesn't think it will last. . .then again maybe that's part of why he seems like he encourages you to become an anomaly in his character stories. Because he'll get to have you around for longer.

Spring: (March-May) (between 5am and 11am)

"The plants in our garden become rather lively in the spring. See? There's a little cannibalism going on over there."

(between 11am and 4pm)

"My favorite channels have been updating more frequently than usual of late. I suppose humans really do experience spring fever."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"(yawn) I look more tired than usual? Must be the spring weather... Goodnight."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"Cherry blossoms are fascinating organisms. Born carrying the stench of death and falling all too soon... Just like humans, really."

i don't think most humans smell like death(unless we're referencing the poem about sakura trees having corpses beneath them to make the petals pink again) but go off i guess--also it makes it seem like he wishes humans lived longer? funny thing for a guy who thinks humans aren't compatible to say.

Summer: (June-August) (between 5am and 11am)

"Obscuary is lovely in summer. It's so dark and cool, with a lovely miasma breeze. I've no desire to step outside its confines."

honestly living in eternal night during the summer doesn't sound bad aside from all the bugs. but the tentacle plant in the garden probably keeps most of them away, so. . .obscuary in summer sounds lovely.

(between 11am and 4pm)

"How the sun mocks me... Vampires across the nation are advised to avoid going outdoors unless absolutely necessary."

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"It was so hot this morning that Rui was walking around after his shower in just a towel. A sight for sore eyes, I must say."

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH HE IS BISEXUAL. in Japanese he says that Rui was walking around soaking wet and that he's incredibly handsome but doesn't mention the towel--so Rui may have been wet and bare naked walking around Obscuary. . . .

(between 8pm and 5am)

"My air-conditioner? I believe I have it set to 64 degrees. Hm? You're cold? Humans truly are such fragile creatures."

that is almost 18 degrees celcius for the non-americans! it's not that cold imo but it's definitely a little chillier than most people like their personal space.

Autumn: (September-November) (between 5am and 11am)

"Humans take extra delight in their meals during the harvest season, do they? Interesting. Perhaps I'll follow suit."

lap up your tears nice and slow and sensual--

(between 11am and 4pm)

"The stamina and physical strength of a vampire is dozens of times that of a human. We don't need to work ou— (cough) (wheeze)"

YOU GOOD BUDDY YOU STARTED COUGHING WITHOUT EVEN MOVING i mean i get it i have asthma but still--

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"Ah, the curtain of night closes. Now that the days are becoming shorter, my physical and mental health have much improved."

does that mean you don't need help getting dressed for a while--

(between 8pm and 5am)

"How beautiful the moon looks tonight. Its light is such a comfort to us non-humans. You look rather lovely bathed in it too."

Winter: (December-February) (between 5am and 11am)

"(sigh) Even in the dead of winter, Lyca is so full of energy in the mornings... Just try to imagine waking to him barking in your ear."

that explains why you lock him out of your room lmaoooo

(between 11am and 4pm)

"What do you think of my dressing gown? Rui made it for me. It's surprisingly warm."

MOM RUI STRIKES AGAIN MAKING HIS BOY COZY CLOTHES FOR THE WINTER

(between 4pm and 8pm)

"(cough cough) I only took a few steps outside, yet I felt as though my heart froze over... It's best not to leave one's room on days like this."

(between 8pm and 5am)

"They say that on cold nights like this, humans long for the warmth of another. Well? Shall I provide it for you?"

DO YOU POSSESS THE WARMTH OF ANOTHER SIR I RECALL YOUR SKIN BEING DESCRIBED AS COLD

His birthday: (November 10th)

"Having you celebrate my birthday makes all these long years of life worth it. How old am I? A gentleman doesn't tell."

given your estimate was 'idk 400 i stopped counting around 300' i think it's less you won't tell and more you can't tell lmaoooo

Your birthday:

"It's your birthday, is it? I'll have to give you a present. What do you want? Go on, tell me."

New Years: (January 1st)

"Happy New Year. I heard it's a tradition in this country to impart small monetary gifts. Here, for you."

OTOSHIDAMA GET!!!!

Valentine's Day: (February 14th)

"My, is this for me? I'm touched. I don't usually partake of human food, but I suppose I'll make an exception."

it's about the symbolism! it's the principle of the thing, even if the chocolate tastes bland to your vampire taste buds!

White Day: (March 14th)

"It seems that today those who received chocolates on Valentine's Day are supposed to return the favor. What a conscientious country this is..."

yeah but what'd you get them tho--

April Fool's Day: (April 1st)

"Oh, I'm burning up... I'm not long for this world... Won't you grant me one last request? ...No need to make that face. I'm joking, of course."

Halloween: (October 31st)

"Trick or treat. I'm a real vampire, you know. Give me your blood, or I'll play a trick on you."

probably the only time he's directly stated wanting to drink your blood lol

Christmas: (December 25th)

"Merry Christmas. Rather amusing for a vampire to celebrate a holy day, don't you think? Let's fill tonight with magic and wonder."

Idle: (about 20 seconds without interacting with the game) (below 13 affinity)

"I'm going to lie down a while. If you need something, ask Rui."

(13 affinity and above)

"Hello? Oh good, there you are. It would be troublesome for me if you were to disappear. Let me know next time you decide to wander off."

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT'D BE TROUBLESOME. I guess it's because you clean up after him and help him and stuff. . .and at higher affinities maybe he feeds off of your tears and/or blood. . . .

Absent: (logging in for the first time in 2 or more days?)

"Well, hello there. It's been a while. Come over here—I've been looking forward to your return."

OUR SLOPPY LIL VAMPIRE BOY. Flirts, drinks tears, minds his own business, and is on his best behavior despite that he was abducted by Darkwick. They should be thankful he's not angrier, considering he's apparently strong enough to LEVEL A BUILDING ON HIS OWN. As his affinity goes up he seems to be more comfortable around you, although that comes with the concern that he expresses less human thoughts more openly. . .which isn't a bad thing, imo. He should be allowed to be an anomaly. He's not harming or preying on you, just saying he could and that he's dangerous. But he also just seems to like physical affection and flirting and having you do chores for him so he can be lazy. . . .

I love him lol he's stinky