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toomanystoriessolittletime · 1 month ago

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With time

Summary: Owning a flower shop across the cemetery leaves you to meet a wide variety of people. Including Joel Miller.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 3.9k

Rating: T

Warnings: no outbreak AU, kind of a flower shop AU?, Sarah dies :( , strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of car accidents and injuries, angst, grief, mentions of attempted suicide, healing, fluff, a little bit of oblivious idiots, time jumps, mentions of pregnancy, just really fluffy at the end

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Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

You had read about it in a newspaper.

A terrible car accident. A drunk driver hit a car, a father and daughter driving home after a soccer game her team had won. The father had been in a coma for three days, having to learn that his daughter had sadly not survived the accident after he finally woke up.

Sarah Miller.

A thirteen year old girl.

Dead because of a reckless drunk driver.

You remembered her and her father, how could you not?

Sarah used to ask you a million questions about every single flower and you always answered each and every one of them, loving the way her eye lit up every time she learned something new.

They visited your store occasionally, buying the brightest flowers for her Grandma who had passed away a couple years before. She had told you that her Grandma loved sunflowers before proceeding to beg her father to buy the biggest arrangement of sunflowers for her grandma’s birthday the last time they had been here.

You remembered the way her father had sighed seemingly annoyed, yet fighting against a smile before he had looked at you and asked you how much all the sunflowers would be.

You remembered thinking how handsome that man was. How happy, how… warm it felt when he looked at you, his brown eyes so full of life.

He somehow always seemed to be already looking at you before you could look at him and for a while you even thought maybe, maybe you should ask him out.

The man sitting in front of you in a wheelchair now was a much different version of the happy man you had met back then.

He looked broken.

Dark circles under his eyes, almost healed scratches littering the left side of his head. The man next to him, his brother Tommy was talking. Looking equally as exhausted but the look he gave his brother, Joel you learned, every now and then was downright devastating. As if he was waiting for his brother to shatter into a million pieces right in front of his eyes.

You knew they had waited as long as they could to arrange the funeral so Joel could be there. The funeral home had contacted you a week ago, explaining the situation and ordered flowers and arrangements.

The funeral would be tomorrow and the amount of flowers that had been ordered for the sad occasion was overwhelming even for you.

A sea of purple, pink and blue flowers had been delivered this morning and you and your employees would spend all day binding the flowers so they’d be ready tomorrow.

For Sarah.

A little girl taken way too soon from this world.

„We just wanted to check…“ Tommy Miller said again, gazing down at his brother whose eyes were fixed on something behind you.

„Everything will be ready for tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything myself,“ you said gently and saw him swallow, before he nodded.

„Joel?“ He asked and the man blinked once before he looked up at him.

„Anything you wanna add?“ He only shook his head, before he looked away again and Tommy closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. His eyes were watery when he opened them again.

„Thank you,“ he whispered as he stepped behind the wheelchair and began to turn it.

„I am so sorry for your loss,“ you said quietly and for the first time Joel looked at you.

The amount of pain in his eyes made it hard for you to breathe as he looked at you, before his eyes glanced again at something behind your head before his brother led him out of the shop.

When you turned around you noticed the big vase of sunflowers behind you.

The shop was busy. Strangely busy.

It was a normal Friday afternoon, at least you thought so. No special holidays were coming up, yet the people kept flooding into your little store.

Sure, the location of your shop right across the cemetery guaranteed business for you. It was one of the reasons you had invested in it almost six years ago. But lately, with the start of your social media page (well, your niece Ellie started the page for you) people from all over town came to buy your flowers. You even had orders for a hand full of weddings later this year.

Business was good. So good that you were thinking about expanding and maybe adding a greenhouse to start growing some of your own flowers instead of ordering everything from the various flower markets you were working with.

You were in the back, working on your order for the next couple of weeks when Kat, one of the girls working in the front asked you if we had any purple flowers in the back. You nodded, knowing you saw some purple hyacinths earlier, telling her you’d look and bring them to the front when you found them.

And there in one of the back corners they were, beautiful purple hyacinths you had ordered the week before.

Ever since that rainy day that October you found yourself adding an order of purple flowers to your orders.

Never in your life had you seen a sea of so much purple flowers at a funeral. Not only from your shop but delivered from all across town, paying respect to a little girl called Sarah, taken too soon from her life.

You had lingered in the far back during the funeral, hiding under a big umbrella, finding yourself unable to just walk away. There was so much grief and sorrow in the air. The rain hadn’t stopped all day. As if some higher power was crying too.

Yet in the moment where you saw the wheelchair that had a grieving father sitting in it being pushed towards the grave, stopping so he could say goodbye to his little girl for one last time the sun had come out, a rainbow forming within minutes. You heard the sob all the way to where you were standing, tears springing into your eyes before you decided it was time to leave.

You found yourself drawn to her grave since that day.

And one day, after noticing that Sarah Miller never had gotten new flowers after the ones of her funeral had withered, you started bringing her flowers. Every other week.

Occasionally Tommy Miller, her uncle, came in to buy some daisies. You would clean them from the grave once they too had withered, replacing them with a fresh batch of seasonal purple flowers.

It must have been her favourite colour form the amount of flowers at her funeral.

But months after the funeral Tommy had stopped coming too. You hadn’t seen him since.

And you hadn’t seen her father Joel in the four years since he left your shop the day before the funeral, broken and grieving.

You were sure he had his reasons, finding yourself responsible somehow to spend some time with the girl until her family was ready to visit her.

You were quite surprised to find Joel lingering at the counter of your shop when you brought out the hyacinths. Telling Kat that you would take care of this she nodded, already walking towards a new customer who needed some help.

„Mr. Miller,“ you said softly and he turned around, looking at you, surprised.

„Joel, please,“ he said with a tight lipped smile.

He looked…. Older. Deep lines around his eyes, his unkempt facial hair had some greys.

He looked like the weight of the world rested on his shoulder. Which did not mean he wasn’t attractive anymore. The opposite really.

„Joel,“ you said gently, „You wanted some purple flowers?“ you asked and he nodded.

„Yeah. Uh…. I want a small bouquet of flowers. Purple, pink maybe blue?“ He asked, seeming nervous.

You gave him a small smile.

„Of course. You want to chose the flowers or should I? Apart from these of course. I do not have any other purples left i am afraid,“ you gestured to the hyacinths you had laid down on the counter.

„You, please Ma’m,“ he said and you nodded. Taking deep breath when you turned away from him you drifted through your shop, reaching for some gerberas and snapdragons and some greens to fill out the bouquet before you made your way back to the counter.

He was still leaning against the counter when you got back, looking at the hyacinths. Slowly you began to arrange the flowers, all under the watchful eyes of him.

„I never thanked you for all the flowers. For the work you did with them at,“ he cleared his throat, „at the funeral,“ he said quietly.

You finished binding the flowers before you looked up at him.

„She deserved to have the best of the best that day. She was a special girl,“ you said as you looked at him and he nodded, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. When his eyes opened you could see just how hard this was for him.

His life had changed in a matter of seconds and he was still dealing with the aftermath.

You had read about the trial.

The driver had been the CEO of some big tech company, now in prison until he would die there. You also read about the settlement after he had been sued for wrongful death, rumoured to be in the tens of millions.

„She was a special girl,“ Joel whispered and you found yourself reaching over, putting your hand on top of his. He looked at you then and for a moment you forgot that you were in the middle of your busy flower shop.

„What do I owe you?“ He asked and you shook your head.

„It’s a gift. A birthday gift for her,“ you added quietly and you could read the surprise in his eyes. You knew it would be her eighteenth birthday today.

Joel Miller looked at you, really looked at you then.

You have him a small smile and he released a shaky breath before ever so slowly the corners of his mouth lifted.

„Thank you. She’ll love it,“ he said.

You watched him as he took the bouquet from you, giving you one last glance before he walked out of the shop and across the street.

„You know him?“ Lisa, one of your employees and one of your closest friends asked after he left.

You shook your head.

„Not really. His daughter died in a car crash some years ago and I did the flowers for the funeral. Never seen so many flowers in my life,“ you said.

„She the girl you bring flowers to?“ She asked and you nodded.

Lisa hummed.

„He’s hot,“ she added and you rolled your eyes with an oh my god before you disappeared back into the back into your office, still hearing her cackling.

You wondered, if you would see Joel Miller again.

„The contractor is here,“ Lisa knocked on your door and you looked up from where you were cutting roses to arrange them for small bouquets later. You nodded with a smile, having heard that the architect you had hired for the remodelling of the shop and the two greenhouses had arrived already.

Washing your hands you took a look at the small mirror over the sink, deciding that you looked okay enough to meet with them.

The architect, Tess, had come highly recommended by a friend of yours who had remodelled his office space a year ago. The two of you had clicked immediately and you loved the plans she had worked out.

With the loan worked out now all that was left were the permits.

Tess had said that she worked with a small contractor business that was still pretty knew but did great work. And you decided to trust her.

Hugging her when you saw her you were excited to start this new project.

Since launching the online shop a couple months ago you had hired additional help. Business was running more than good and you were ready to expand it.

„This is the contractor I told you about, Joel Miller,“ she said and your eyebrows raised in surprise when the man turned around.

„Oh, Hi Joel,“ you said with a wide smile. He chuckled as he waved rather awkwardly.

„You know each other?“ Tess asked, also surprised.

Oh yes, you knew each other. Since that day where Joel had picked up the flower bouquet for Sarah’s birthday he had been back regularly. Every two to four weeks. Buying fresh flowers for Sarah before he walked towards the cemetery.

Once, he hadn’t been in for almost four weeks it was him who found you at her grave, having just put in fresh new flowers under the white marble stone that read Sarah’s name.

You still couldn’t point your finger as to why you were so drawn to her, but you decided to not question it anymore.

Joel had been surprised to see you there. And you had rather embarrassed confessed that you had brought her flowers ever since her funeral so she had something pretty with her.

He had invited you for a coffee after and ever since that day you would call Joel Miller a friend.

„I literally told you yesterday I was meeting up with a contractor, you could have told me,“ you said with narrowed eyes. He just winked at you.

„Now where would be the fun in that, Darlin’?“ He said and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head with a small smile. Tess had a strange expression on her face when you looked at her and you made a sorry face.

„We know each other. We’re….“ You looked at him, not really knowing how to label it. You were friends. Kind of? You don’t really spend much time together. He comes into your shop to buy flowers for his daughter’s grave and sometimes you have coffee. And, though it could be your imagination, sometimes he even flirted with you.

„We’re friends,“ Joel said looking at Tess and you felt like you were missing something between them before Tess turned to you, smile plastered on her face.

„Let’s talk about your new flower shop?" She asked, a little forced and you nodded, before you followed her outside, Joel following behind you.

The meeting was a little awkward.

There was a tension in the air which definitely did not have to do with you but with whatever was going on between Joel and Tess. It left you in your thoughts as you closed down the shop for the night, having pondered over it ever since both Tess and Joel had left.

Construction plans were finished, now you were waiting for the permit before construction could start, hopefully within the next two months.

Were they a couple?

They didn’t seem like a couple. Not that it was any of your business. You were his… friend. He said so. Not that you would mind being more, but you were way to shy and awkward to ask him out. You weren’t even sure if he would be interested. God, why was being an adult so fucking hard?

You jumped when you heard a knock on the door, looking up to see Joel stand there. He was still wearing the red flannel shirt he had on when he left and you frowned before you made your way over to the door, unlocking it to let him in.

„Is everything okay?“ You asked. He walked further into the store, hand rubbing over his neck as you locked the door again.

„I want to apologise,“ he said. You tilted your head.

„For me and Tess earlier. We’re…. It’s complicated. And it made the whole thing awkward,“ he explained. You walked towards the counter, jumping up so you could sit.

„You don’t owe me any explanation. But if you want to talk, I’m here,“ you said and he sighed, before he followed you, sitting down on the counter next to you.

You were sitting for a while before he began to talk.

„I went into a deep hole when Sarah died,“ he began after a while. You looked up at him.

„The day after her funeral, I wanted…. I didn’t see any point of living when my little girl wasn’t here anymore. I was ready. I really was but at the last moment I flinched,“ he said any you inhaled sharply as he brought his fingers up to rub over his temple. You had noticed the scar but would never have asked.

„I went to a clinic in Wyoming for a year. Worked through the injuries from the accident and the grief. Tommy, my brother, he couldn’t take it and enlisted. He only got back last year.

Anyways, it’s where I met Tess. She was at the clinic too. Not my story to tell but she lost someone too and needed some help to get better. I think…. I think we bonded over what we lost and became… intimate?“ He looked at you from the corner of his eyes but you just nodded.

„Thing is I told her from the beginning that this would never become more. She’s…. She’s a great woman but she also reminds me of the worst time of my life. We stopped seeing each other when I left the clinic, but she moved here when she got a new job and I think she still thought that there could be something more between me and her. So she’s been giving construction work to my new business and because I want this business to succeed I took it. I talked to her again today. I think she understands now but… fuck, I’m an asshole really,“ he sighed and you reached over, putting your hand on top of his.

„Why are you telling me all this?“ You asked softly and he looked at you. He was so close to you.

„I wanted to ask you out,“ he whispered and you gulped.

„I was talking to Sarah on.. on that day on our way back home, asking her if she would be okay with me asking you out. You don’t know this but she really really liked you. Always kept talking about how you explained each and every flower to her. And I… I haven’t been in a real relationship with any woman since Sarah’s mom left when she was two years old.“

He turned his hand, palm now facing upwards so he could take your hand in his as he took a shaky breath in.

„She said she’d love it if you got to spend more time with us. She was so happy and then…“ he shook his head and you saw a tear roll down his cheek. Carefully you reached up, brushing it away.

There were tears in your eyes too.

All of this was brand-new information to you. He wanted to ask you out? All those years ago?

„It took a long time for me to heal. To get my shit together. And yet I still haven’t asked you out,“ he said, your hand still on his cheek as he looked at you.

„Then do it,“ you whispered, with a small smile.

„Yeah?“ He murmured and you nodded.

„Do you want to have dinner with me?“ He asked and your smile widened.

„Anytime,“ you said, tilting your chin up, eyes dropping close when his lips softly found yours.

You found yourself sitting on a picnic blanket close to Sarah’s grave. It was a nice afternoon and you had decided to take your lunch break outside, munching on your apple until your real lunch would get here.

Tomorrow, after two years of construction, your life would change. The new flower shop would re-open and you would finally be able to grow your own flowers in the green houses behind it.

But not only that, in three days you would move in with Joel. Earlier this year he had bought the old Smith property next to where your flower shop was build on. It was a big piece of land with a farm that he had been fixing up these last months.

Miller brothers construction really became Tommy Miller construction in the last year with Joel putting all his focus on the building of your new flower shop.

That and…. Him wanting time to spend with his girlfriend.

Not that he needed to work. You learned that the settlement out of the lawsuit was over 16 million dollars. Money he hadn’t touched until he finally knew what he wanted to do with it.

He had started a girls soccer camp in Sarah’s name that was benefiting families with lower income. And he loved every single second of it.

Loving Joel Miller was like the world finally clicked into place for you. He was the one piece that you had always searched for without even knowing. After you went on your first date there hasn’t been a day where you had not seen each other.

You were so sickeningly in love with each other, even Tess, who had been angry at Joel for a while after he told her again that there was no future for the two of them, had to admit that. She was now one of your closest friends, something Joel still found a bit weird sometimes.

„Starting without me?“ You heard Joel behind you and you looked over your shoulder, seeing him carry a bag of take out with him before he sat down next to you. He kissed you, once, twice, three times before he let himself fall on his back with a groan, taking you with him, making you laugh.

„You were taking too long and I was too hungry,“ you pouted, leaning with your arm on his chest, looking down at him. One of his hands came to rest on your lower stomach, the belly only barely visible by now.

You had learned two months ago that you were pregnant.

He wrapped one arm around you and you laid down with your head on his chest as you looked up into the blue sky.

„You think Sarah would like a brother or a sister?“ You asked, his hand still on your belly.

„I think she would say she didn’t care but deep down she would want a sister,“ he said and you smiled.

„She would have loved you being her mom“ he whispered and you looked up at him, with tears in your eyes.

„I’d have loved that too,“ you said quietly and he kissed your forehead.

You were about to doze off when you felt him move, too tired to open your eyes to check what he was doing.

„Hey,“ he whispered, his fingers brushing over your cheek. You scrunched up your nose before you opened your eyes to look at him, finding him holding up a ring with his other hand.

„Marry me?“ He asked and sobbed a yes, before you let him kiss you.

#my fic #joel miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction

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little-diable · 1 year ago

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Let the Rain Wash Away Our Secrets – Charlie Swan (smut)

It's been some time since I've last written for one of our fave DILFs, so here we go. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is one of Bella's best friends. But as she comes to Forks to visit her younger friend, Bella is too distracted by her boyfriend, giving (y/n) and Charlie the chance to get to know one another.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car smut, best friend's dad trope, quite fluffy, age gap (reader is legal ofc)

Pairing: Charlie Swan x fem!reader (3k words)

Clouds covered the sky, adding to the gloomy atmosphere (y/n) found herself trapped in. Her eyes kept wandering, taking in her surroundings as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Protected from the light rain by her jacket, (y/n) cuddled herself further into the fabric, while she hoped that somebody would finally open the door.

Once again, she rang the bell while wondering where Bella was. It had been days since they had last spoken, but while (y/n) had reminded her friend of her approaching trip, Bella had seemed distracted, as if she was barely listening. (Y/n) had been hesitant to visit after the call, and yet she had missed her friend too much to back out of the trip.

With a sigh clawing through her, (y/n) reached for her phone to call Bella, hoping that she had fallen asleep or was wearing headphones, so she wasn’t hearing the ringing doorbell. But Bella didn’t pick up the call, letting it go to voicemail as (y/n) plopped down on the stairs leading up to the house.

Annoyance flushed through (y/n) as she ended the call. Bella had sent her Charlie Swan’s phone number a few weeks ago, telling her that she could always call him if (y/n) needed her but couldn’t reach her. But (y/n) had never spoken to the man before, unsure what to say to him, and if he would even know who she was, given Bella’s distraction these past weeks.

Uneasiness clung to (y/n) as she clicked on Charlie’s contact, having to deeply exhale before pressing the phone to her ear. She counted every ring, while slowly losing hope that the Chief would pick up the phone if he was currently working. But seconds before she’d be sent to voicemail, she was graced by Charlie’s raspy voice.

“Hello?” Something about the man’s voice left (y/n) trembling, having to clear her throat before she could focus on what she wanted to ask him.

“Hello, Chief Swan, this is (y/n), Bella’s friend.” She pressed her free palm against her trembling knee, hoping that she could ground herself as her nervousness kept flushing through her.

“(Y/n), yes, of course. Are you alright? Is Bella okay?” The concern dripping from his voice left (y/n) smiling. Bella hadn’t told her much about Charlie, but the things the young girl had told her, had been enough to leave (y/n) intrigued. Something about the things Bella had told her, hadn’t matched up, leaving her aching for the man who was undoubtedly missing his daughter.

“I don’t know. She was supposed to wait here for me, at your house, but it seems as if nobody is at home, I can’t reach her.” The groan leaving Charlie drew a soft gasp from (y/n), wondering why he was overcome by this clear wave of annoyance.

“I’m so sorry, (y/n), she’s out with her boyfriend. Give me a few minutes, I’ll come home to let you into the house!”

……

“I honestly wouldn’t mind taking the couch, Charlie.” Charlie had arrived at the house a while ago, greeting (y/n) with a soft smile that had instantly made heat buzz through her system. She had only seen a few pictures of the man before, and none of them were doing him justice. Charlie Swan was handsome, more handsome than (y/n) had imagined, leaving her slightly distracted as he guided her through the house.

“No, don’t worry. I have to get up for work early anyway, I would only wake you.” She followed him back downstairs into the kitchen, watching him reach for two cups. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.” The smile playing on her lips kept growing as Charlie poured both of them their coffee before placing the cups down on the table. “So, Bella didn’t tell me about her boyfriend. Who is he?”

“His name is Edward, they met at school. He’s the son of Doctor Cullen, a friend of sorts.” The lack of emotions dripping from Charlie’s words left (y/n) smiling, instantly picking up on the chief’s dislike of Edward. (Y/n) studied him for a moment, taking in the clear confusion and annoyance as well as a hint of sadness.

“Well, you know, I’ve been around Bella for years now, and I’m sure he takes good care of her if she is that focused on him.” (Y/n) couldn’t stop her hand from finding Charlie’s, softly squeezing before she pulled away again. His eyes followed her movements, seemingly as shaken up by the electricity that had buzzed through them the second their hands touched.

“She should be proud to call you her friend, (y/n).” She had met Bella years ago, had helped around their house every now and then and had stepped in as a helping hand whenever Renée and Phil had left the city, given that (y/n) was a couple of years older than Bella. She had always supported the girl through whatever she needed, feeling like her older sister – ready to help her through every uneasy water she had been forced to sail through.

“That’s nice of you, thank you, Charlie.” Their eyes held contact as (y/n) took another sip of her coffee. “So, do you have any tips for me? I think I’d like to explore Forks while Bella is out.”

……

“Dad?” Bella’s voice echoed through the house. It was dark out, a comforting darkness that wrapped (y/n) and Charlie in its embrace as they found themselves surrounded by soft lights and candles.

Charlie had shown (y/n) around town for the past hours before they had eaten out at the diner. The conversation between them had flown all too effortlessly, guiding them from one place to the other as if they were old friends, connected through shared memories and unspoken emotions.

“Hey, Bells.” The girl stepped into the room, freezing in her step as her eyes found (y/n)’s features. Bella’s smile instantly fell, groaning with her head rolling back while speaking a few curses. “(Y/n), god, I am so sorry! I completely forgot you were coming today.”

“It’s alright. Your dad kept me company.” Her eyes found their way back to Charlie, who shot (y/n) a soft smile, before redirecting his gaze towards his daughter. Bella seemed all too oblivious, not picking up on whatever was lingering between Charlie and (y/n), seemingly still focused on her afternoon with Edward.

“How are the Cullens?” Charlie’s soft voice left (y/n) smiling. He had told her all about his dislike for the boy, and yet he still cared enough to hear about Bella’s experiences, her adventures, and whatever she was doing when she met up with the rather tense boy.

“Good! I can’t wait to introduce you to them, (y/n). I think I’ll head to bed now, but how about we grab some breakfast in the morning?” (Y/n) could only nod as Bella disappeared upstairs, leaving her wondering if Bella even cared about her visit after all. Charlie seemed to pick up on her confused expression, letting his hand rest on her knee to softly squeeze it.

“As much as I hate it, she’s in love. I’m sorry, she is so distracted these days. But feel free to call me tomorrow if she bails on you again, I’m not working in the afternoon.”

……

“Hi, excuse me, is Chief Swan still in?” She smiled at the policeman who studied her with an unreadable expression. He turned from her to call for Charlie, watching the chief appear a moment later. (Y/n)’s eyes found his, drawing a soft smile to his lips as he guided her towards him with a simple hand movement.

“Where’s Bells?” Charlie allowed her to step into his office, closing the door behind them to offer some privacy. (Y/n) plopped down in one of the leather chairs as Charlie took a seat himself, keeping his eyes on her with every movement. His office had an almost cosy touch to it, warmer than she had expected it to be.

“She seemed quite antsy the longer I kept her from Edward, so I told her I’d roam the town on my own for a bit.” (Y/n) could tell that Charlie struggled to keep his eyes from rolling, while he sunk further down into his chair. They held eye contact as she let go of a soft chuckle, feeling sympathy for the dad of her friend who clearly struggled to accept his daughter’s boyfriend.

“Well, I’m off in a few minutes, how about I take you to the beach I told you about yesterday?” The gratefulness she felt pushed heat through her body, a desperate heat that made it harder for her to ignore the growing crush she had on her friend’s father. (Y/n) could only murmur a barely audible “That’d be lovely” as Charlie turned back towards his computer to finish his report.

It didn’t take long for him to stop writing, before guiding her out of the station and to his car. Soft music filled the small space as they drove through Forks, allowing Charlie to tell her some more stories of the town he had loved for years. She felt unusually comfortable around Charlie, searching his closeness as if he were an old friend, a lover she had been with for years, an all too familiar sensation she hadn’t felt with anybody else.

“There we go, do you have a jacket with you?” Rain was falling from the sky as Charlie parked the car. Their eyes met, and for a second, (y/n) lost all strength to speak, fighting against the pull she felt deep inside of herself. She couldn’t cross that line, couldn’t try and move closer to her friend’s father, but it almost pained her to keep her distance.

“Uhm, no, but it’s alright, I don’t care about the rain.” Charlie’s soft chuckles filled the car before he opened his door and stepped outside. She watched him open the trunk to pull out an umbrella before he found his way to her side. With the umbrella covering both of them, Charlie guided her towards the empty beach, watching the waves rush ashore as if they were racing one another.

No words were spoken between them as she kept clinging to him, with her arm wrapped around his. The warmth Charlie emanated left her searching for his closeness, set on feeling him as close as he allowed her to. They walked along the beach with wandering eyes, taking in their surroundings, the dark sky and the high waves, letting an unusually calm atmosphere flush through them.

“It’s funny how nothing around here has changed over the years.” He almost whispered the words, luring (y/n)’s curious gaze towards his handsome features. Charlie was already looking at her, wearing a soft smile on his lips as he slowly moved his hand, stroking one of the hair strands that had fallen into her face behind her ear. Shudders shot down her spine, pulling her closer to Charlie.

“Did you ever think of leaving?” (Y/n) matched the quiet tone of his voice, she kept staring up at him as Charlie’s hand lingered on her cheek. His thumb explored her cheek, stroking her soft skin as if he had lost all will to fight against what was buzzing between them. She tried not to move, tried to stop herself from crossing the small distance between them, but the longing swimming in his pupils made it harder for (y/n) to hold still.

“Tell me to stop, (y/n).” It was a soft plead, words (y/n) couldn’t reply to as she shifted her weight and finally pressed her lips against Charlie’s. The kiss left her lips tingling, letting the sensation buzz through her body as if lightning had struck them. She slung her arms around his neck, groaning at the sensation of his beard scratching her skin – a sensation that made heat pool between her thighs.

His free hand found her waist to pull her against him, while their tongues met, deepening the kiss as rain kept pouring down on them. Only as the sound of thunder roaring in the sky echoed through their ears did they pull away. Both were heavily breathing, staring at one another with bright smiles that left them chuckling, feeling like teenagers in love.

“Come, let’s get back to the car.” Charlie guided her along the beach, back to the empty parking lot. She felt giddy with every step they took, wondering how the next moments would play out while very well knowing that she hadn’t gotten enough of Charlie. She needed more, needed whatever he could offer her.

Charlie pressed her against the car without another warning, kissing (y/n) again as if they were lovers reunited after years apart. Their movements were guided by an unfamiliar longing, something both hadn’t cared for these past years.

He parted from (y/n) with a soft sigh before he opened the car door for her, letting her get inside as he did the same on his side. The comfort the car offered wrapped them in its embrace, drawing relieved sighs from them while the rain kept pitter-pattering down on his windows. Their eyes kept holding contact as (y/n) pondered over her choices, unable to bite down her grin.

“Pull back your seat, Charlie.” He needed a moment before he set into motion, pulling back the seat enough for (y/n) to climb over the middle console and find comfort in his lap. Their lips searched one another like pilgrims, drawing groans and moans, filled with a desperation that urged (y/n) on to move her hips, grinding against his middle. The throaty groan that broke through Charlie left her grinning in success while she moved her hips again, feeling him grow beneath her.

“We have to stop before I won’t be able to pull away, baby.” His words drew a whine out of (y/n), her lips were kissing their way down his throat as her hands worked on his belt, not daring to think of stopping. Charlie’s hand found her throat, forcing (y/n) to look at him as her hands stopped moving.

“Charlie, I want this, I want you.” (Y/n)’s whispers left him groaning, forcing him to slowly nod to wordlessly allow her hands to keep on moving. With a grin stuck to her lips, she freed his hardening cock before she spat into her hand to pump him. Her walls fluttered around nothing, begging to be filled by him, needing to feel Charlie spread her.

“I don’t have anything on me.” She let her eyes flicker up to meet his stormy ones, getting lost in his gaze for a few seconds as she kept moving her hand, feeling him twitch in her grasp.

“I’m on the pill.” Grateful that she was wearing a dress, (y/n) began to shift on his lap, searching his lips for another kiss as she positioned herself over his cock. Their moans were swallowed by the kiss, echoing through the car while (y/n) sank down on him. For a moment, both held still, having to adjust to the new sensation, getting used to the way their bodies fit together all too perfectly.

“You feel so good, baby, fuck.” His words encouraged (y/n) to keep on moving, supported by his hands that guided her. She grew wetter by the second, letting her arousal coat his cock with every hasty movement, chasing an orgasm that was already close. Both knew that this wouldn’t last long, having to get this first orgasm out of the way before he could properly fuck her back at home, touching her like she deserved to be touched.

“Such a good girl, my pretty girl.” Charlie’s praises made her walls flutter, clenching down around him to push them both closer to the edge. (Y/n) kept moving, kept fucking herself on his cock with cries breaking out of her the second his fingers found her pulsing bundle, adding more friction to every movement.

“Charlie,” she sobbed his name as her eyes fluttered close, knowing she’d cum soon, letting go with his name clawing through her any moment now. He began to meet her thrusts, pushing his cock even deeper into her tightness to watch her come undone on top of him.

“Look at me, baby, look at me when you cum.” Their eyes found back together as (y/n) came with a cry, letting his name break through her. His hands kept supporting her, chasing his own orgasm while fucking into her. They were a trembling mess of tangled limbs, and yet both felt more relieved than ever before, thanking their lucky stars for pushing them together. Charlie followed her seconds later, letting go with a deep growl that forced (y/n) to shudder against him.

“Fuck,” Charlie’s pants left (y/n) chuckling. He was still buried inside of her, even as she pressed herself against his chest, focused on the racing beat of his heart. He held onto her with his arm slung over her back, not daring to let go of the woman who fit into his grasp a tad bit too well.

“I don’t know how we will tell Bella about this.” Her whispers rang in his ears, forcing a gritty chuckle from Charlie while pondering over her words.

“I doubt she will notice anything while she is that distracted by her boyfriend.” And with a hum clawing through (y/n), she lifted her head to look at him. Another soft kiss was shared between them, wordlessly communicating their every emotion that grew stronger by the second.

#Charlie Swan smut #Charlie Swan x reader #Charlie Swan imagine #twilight

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 8 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you heard from Bradley. Perhaps something went wrong. Or maybe he was avoiding you. Just when you start trying to accept that the last few months were too good to be true, things start to turn around again.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being sweet

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Days went by. With only two weeks left of Bradley's deployment, you weren't really expecting to receive air mail at school with your name on it, but you certainly did miss it anyway. Your students asked about him every morning, wondering if he'd sent a new email, hoping for another video with Marty. But you got nothing in either of your email inboxes.

He was on your mind almost constantly. What happened on his mission? Did the Navy decide it was okay to cut off communication right when you were completely attached to hearing from him? Did this really mean you had to wait until the aircraft carrier arrived back in San Diego?

It was right before your students were due to arrive in your classroom that you had perhaps the most distressing thoughts of all. What if something went terribly wrong and he didn't survive? Or what if this was simply his way of ghosting you before he had to see you in person?

Jayden raced in ahead of the rest of your class, calling your name along the way. "Did Lieutenant Bradshaw write back yet?"

You pointed him toward his desk as you shook your head. "I already explained that he may not have time to respond before his deployment ends."

Jayden just bounced in place in front of you. "Then that means he can visit us when he gets back!"

Now a small group of your kids surrounded you, and you wished more than anything that you could tell them that Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw, their beloved pen pal, would definitely be visiting your classroom in a few short days. Instead you told them, "Please, take your seats so we can start our Natural History lesson."

This turned out to be your new normal. Every time you got an email notification, you jumped to unlock your phone, but it was never a message from Bradley. When you saw a box tucked in your mail cubby in the school office, you ran for it, only to find the science supplies you ordered weeks ago had arrived. You even forced yourself to go back and read some of the old emails from him, just to make sure it all really happened, but his words left you aching for more.

...I like giving Gorgeous teachers butterflies...

...You'd look adorable snuggled up in your bed. But then again, when aren't you completely Gorgeous?...

...Gorgeous girl, you're messing with my head...

...And it's not a matter of if I touch you, it's a matter of when...

After nearly two weeks had gone by, you tried to figure out if the USS Theodore Roosevelt was back in port, but short of driving to North Island to see for yourself, you couldn't seem to find a solid answer online. And if you did drive there and found it at the dock, what were you supposed to do? Contact the US Navy? If they told you that nothing happened to Lieutenant Bradshaw and that he was perfectly fine, you'd be mortified. If they told you something in fact did happen to him in the last two weeks, you'd be devastated. That's assuming you could even get them to give you any information at all which was doubtful.

On Friday, you were on the verge of tears as you got ready for work. "You're being ridiculous," you whispered, and that fact made you want to cry even more. You tried to take the time to make yourself look presentable, thinking that may be the key to having a good day. Your outfit was cute. Your makeup looked nice. But you weren't smiling, and you didn't feel like doing so at all.

You grabbed your bag, hoping the short ride with your favorite playlist would be enough to get your spirits up, but all you could think about was how you probably weren't cut out for life with a guy in the military anyway. Waiting around like this to see what was going on was making your stomach upset, and you weren't getting enough sleep. When you closed your eyes, you just pictured a very kissable face with a scarred cheek and big brown eyes.

"You need to focus," you scolded as you parked your car and headed into the school with your ID badge. You had eighteen kids who required your attention, and you'd once again give it to them, because you were fantastic at your job.

This morning, Violet was the first one to mention Bradley in passing, and you had to shake your head. "Please find your seats. If I hear from Lieutenant Bradshaw, I promise I will let you know. I'm not hiding any letters or emails from you all, okay?" You tried to smile as you said, "I'd like to hear from him every bit as badly as you would. I can guarantee that."

You struggled through your morning lessons, often reminding yourself that you needed to focus on your students. Then you sat quietly at your desk with the classroom lights off during lunch, scrolling back through the dozens of emails you'd exchanged with Bradley on your phone. You pulled up the picture of the sun setting behind him in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and even though you tried, you couldn't find anything other than the most sincere expression on his handsome face.

Maybe he would text you this weekend, letting you know he was back and your date was on. You had to believe he would still contact you. When the bell rang, you counted to ten, and then your students came flooding back through your classroom door. They wanted to tell you all about how Jasper from Mrs. Wynn's class got in trouble during lunch, and you humored them before saying, "I'm sure none of you would misbehave like that in the cafeteria."

"No way!" Henry promised.

"That's what I like to hear," you told him with a forced smile. "Once you're all in your seats, we'll start our math lesson. Maybe I'll put a few aviation problems on the board at the end if you show me how well you can focus for the next twenty minutes."

You had just started copying the first fraction that you wanted to discuss from your notebook onto the board when there was a sharp knock on your classroom door. You sighed and let your forehead rest briefly on the white board, knowing that another disruption would completely derail your kids after all the lunchtime nonsense. When you turned to face the door, they were already starting to chatter with each other.

"Come in!" you called out, and every head in your room whipped around to see who was there and what they wanted.

When the door swung open, the room went silent. The first thing you thought about was how peculiar it was to see someone in a khaki military uniform standing there. Then your eyes slid up that tall, muscular frame as your lips parted in surprise. As soon as you met his gaze, he smiled and said, "Hey, Gorgeous."

You couldn't speak. As he took a full step into your classroom and pulled the door closed, you finally noticed he was holding some pretty flowers. Then he was heading your way, his combat boots squeaking ever so slightly against the tile floor with each long stride. Bradley Bradshaw wasn't hesitating at all as he made his way directly to you while your students started talking again.

"It's Lieutenant Bradshaw!"

"I knew he'd come visit us ever since I asked him to!"

"Does this mean his deployment is over?"

"Why does he have flowers?"

He didn't stop until he was standing right in front of you, and the butterflies in your belly were fluttering so much, you were convinced you could float off of the floor. You weren't sure what else to say, so you simply whispered, "Bradley."

His smile grew as he said, "I love the way that sounds when you say it." You could only squeak in response, and his warm gaze flicked from your eyes down to your lips. At this rate you'd be a puddle at his feet in the next ten seconds. He swallowed hard, cheeks flushed as he leaned in closer, taking another small step forward until his boot gently bumped your shoe. His voice took on a raspier edge as said, "You told me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

He didn't stop slowly closing the distance, and when you reached out and let your fingers tangle with his, you whispered, "Please." Then you closed your eyes as his lips brushed feather light against yours. You gasped. He was here. Nothing had ever felt as good as this in your life. You opened your eyes to find him grinning right in front of you, and you chased him for another one of his dreamy kisses.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw kissed her!"

"I think they're in love!"

"They are definitely going to be girlfriend and boyfriend!"

Bradley wrapped his fingers around yours a little tighter as you and he laughed, and he ducked his head before looking up at your class. His cheeks were the most alluring shade of pink as he told them, "Hey, I hope you don't mind that I decided to surprise you and your teacher."

"We don't mind!" shouter Oliver as he was practically sitting on his desk now in excitement. All of the kids were bouncing with anticipation, and you couldn't stop smiling as Violet clapped her hands together.

"Great, because I brought my responses to your last batch of letters, too. I can't thank you enough for being my pen pals for the last few months. You made my time away from home a lot more fun." He turned to look at you before softly adding, "And you made coming back home feel really good."

You wanted to kiss him again. You wanted to run your fingers along his scars and press your lips to his skin in their wake. You wanted to bury your nose against his neck and inhale the smell of his skin and his uniform collar. You wanted to feel his mustache on your lips. Instead, because every eye in the room was on the two of you, you told him, "I'm really happy you're here." You tugged on his hand so he was standing front and center, and you turned to your kids and asked, "What do we say when we have a special guest visit us?"

"Thank you!" they all shouted in unison.

"That's right," you told them. Then you looked up at Bradley, and he handed you the flowers with a crooked little grin, and that's when you noticed he had a small notebook in his hand as well.

"Can I call each kid up to get their letter?" he asked, as if you would deny him anything at the moment. "Then I can put faces to all of the names."

You were still definitely at risk of melting. "You wrote each of them a personal letter again?" you asked him, holding your flowers to your chest and trying not to swoon.

"Yeah," he replied, opening his notebook to show you. He stood there, looking devastatingly sexy, tearing out a page for every kid. He called each of them up and talked to them for a minute. He remembered the name of Jayden's dog. He remembered that Violet loved neon-colored everything. He remembered that Henry said his grandfather was in the Navy. He remembered so much, and he was so willing to indulge all of their questions.

You just stood there with your flowers and watched this endearing man captivate all nineteen of you with his words. He let Oliver try on one of his insignia pins. He drew a diagram of an aircraft carrier on your white board. He met your gaze more often than not. He smiled at you every time he did. He told your students that the reason they were so smart was because you were such a good teacher. The butterflies were here to stay now.

When you looked around, you noticed that your kids were cherishing their personal notes just like you were your flowers. You didn't want this afternoon to end, and yet, as soon as the first bell rang at three o'clock, you jumped to attention. The sooner your students cleared out of the room for the weekend, the sooner you could hopefully have a few minutes alone with Bradley before he wanted to go home and rest.

"We need to pack up," you announced, finally setting the bouquet down on your desk while Bradly affixed his pin back on his uniform shirt.

"Do we have to?" whined Jayden. "Lieutenant Bradshaw like just got here!"

He had in fact been in your classroom for over two hours, but you couldn't blame them for wanting more. Bradley cleared his throat and looked at you as he said, "I could come back again?" with that sincere gaze you were already weak for. "Spend a few more hours answering questions? Maybe bring some engine parts with me?"

You bit your lip before you could whimper out loud, and he started to head in your direction. "We would love that," you told him.

"Yeah?" he asked you as your kids erupted into a rowdy mob, grabbing all of their belongings as the final bell rang.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, waving lazily to your students as they shouted their goodbyes to both you and Bradley. His steps had him reaching you right as the last few kids left your room, and you whispered, "You'll come back?"

He reached for your hand as he said, "I'll do anything you want, Gorgeous." He must have been able to read the needy look on your face, because when you tugged on his hand, he came all the way to you. His other hand ended up at your waist as his lips found yours, and this time, the feather light kisses deepened as you parted your lips. Bradley groaned softly, kissing you just right, and then he whispered, "I've been dying for this."

Your arms went around his neck, kissing him a little frantically, melting at his touch and the feel of his soft, wavy hair between your fingers. "Me too," you told him before pulling his bottom lip gently between yours. He backed you up until you bumped into your desk, and all you could think about was how good his weight would feel on top of you.

Your skin felt too hot when he finally broke the kiss, panting softly as you ran your thumb along his scars. "I didn't like not hearing from you the past two weeks," you told him, and his brown eyes softened even as his hold on you tightened a little bit. "It was... kind of scary."

"I didn't like it either," he told you. "And I was going to text you immediately when we docked this morning, but then I decided to just come here instead." He grinned as your fingers crept back up into his hair. "If they didn't let me sign in with my military ID in the front office, I don't know what I would have done. I just wanted to see you."

You kissed his chin and said, "Usually I hate surprises. But this one was perfect."

"Okay, see, that's good information to know," he rasped. "I only got a ride home long enough to throw my duffle in the front door and hop in my Bronco. I stopped for the flowers, and then I just wanted to get here with my notebook."

You tipped your head back and whispered, "How am I supposed to deal with how sweet you are?"

"Oh! That reminds me," he muttered, rubbing his hand along your back before releasing you and strolling over to where he left his notebook on Oliver's desk. The way your body wanted you to follow him was surprising, but it gave you a chance to look at him again from head to toe as you stood next to your desk. There was nothing out of place on this man, and you pressed your lips together as his bicep flexed against his shirt sleeve. He tore another sheet of paper from his notebook and said, "I have one more note to deliver."

He walked back over to you, and when he held it up with a hopeful look, you took it from him and read.

Hey, Gorgeous. I couldn't wait one more minute to see you. And now that I'm here, I don't want today to end. Is there any way I can convince you to let me take you out for our first official date tonight instead of tomorrow? Bradley

When you looked up from the page, his eyebrows were raised, and that crooked little grin was hovering close to the surface. "I know I said to plan for tomorrow, but I can't fucking wait that long."

You bit down on your lip, shocked by how much better today turned out to be than you could have ever imagined earlier this morning. "Yeah. You've convinced me, Bradley. Tonight sounds perfect."

With that, you were treated to a little smirk beneath his mustache. He carefully took the sheet of notebook paper from your hands, set it down next to the flowers on your desk and proceeded to kiss you senseless.

----------------------------

He's going to make me hyperventilate. Those kids were SO excited to have him in their classroom, but they were nowhere near as excited as Gorgeous! He's home! And he wants to have his beach picnic and takeout and makeout sesh immediately. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 9

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ridher · 9 months ago

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rafe finally asking out the shy pogue he's been crushing on

weeks of plotting — rafe cameron regularly showing up to the island country club for the sole purpose of seeing you, a soft-spoken pogue who works as a waitress at said place.

his intentions were anything but friendly, even if that's genuinely what you believed at first. despite this, he never made it clear and kept you in an awkward grey area that left you wondering just what his goal was.

and of course, you wouldn't dare speak up about your feelings, so rafe's visits remained strictly casual.

he hadn't been planning on changing your relationship any time soon, not even when he came into the club today in the late afternoon.

there you were, like always, shuffling about in the little uniform he found just so adorable, hair held back in a messy updo that always came out effortlessly perfect with pieces falling out and framing your face — enhanced by a layer of natural makeup.

the only difference was a small frown shaping your pouted lips, a sight he'd only seen a handful of times when an entitled resident of figure eight treated her as something below them.

he spends the remaining hours of your shift accompanying you after taking it upon himself to fix your face — a challenge.

though every time you come back from fixing up a table for a new group to occupy, you return with the same dejected expression. it almost pains him and he's lost in his thoughts, silently taking sips of the drink before him on the bar.

you let out a deep sigh signaling the end of your work day, to which he quickly responds after sitting up in the barstool.

"let me walk you out." he offers, leaving his glass for whoever is clocking in next.

replying with just a nod, you head back to grab your work bag — not having the energy to try and brush him off how you would with anyone else in this mood.

rafe is waiting in the decorated hallway outside the employee break room with his back leaning against the wall, hands stuffed in the pockets of his shorts, and curtain bangs parted due to how many times he'd run a hand through it.

when you come out and see him, it takes all your energy to flash him just a small smile. the gesture has him sighing and stepping forward to place a strong hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the building so he can say what he wants about your mood in confidence.

he stops you shortly after the entrance of the parking lot where the two of you usually part ways, moving to stand in front of you as his thumb caresses your back through the thin polo of your uniform.

"wha's goin' on, huh?" he lowers himself to be on your level and make his presence less intimidating — something he learned works with you.

"bad day.. i dunno, i'm sorry." you let out in a soft breath, gazing up at him with big eyes and brows pinched with tension.

he shakes his head and reassuringly mimics your expression, not mocking. the hand not splayed across your waist moves to brush some flyaways from your flushed face that had him distracted.

"it's alright, baby. let me make it better, yeah? will you let me help you?" when he makes his voice all low and smooth like that, it's hard to refuse.

you let out a shaky breath that releases the lines from your forehead before nodding silently once again with a small 'okay', knowing he'll continue with the little bit of confirmation.

"okay? listen, a'ight? you go home and get all cleaned up, take one of your little naps or somethin', eat. i'll come by later and pick you up — m'taking you out, okay?"

you're taking it all in with clueless doe eyes, nodding along until the last little bit. he sees the way your cheeks flush and you struggle to respond, reading the look too easily.

"yeah, yeah — like that. 'kay? we have a deal?" the large hand rafe has on your hip flexes when he tenses while awaiting your reaction.

"okay, rafe." you're nodding with an honest smile now and the sweet tone of your voice says more than you could explain.

he's grinning all smugly, proving no matter how soft he tries to come off, he is still the popular teen boy from the other side of town. none of that mattered in this moment when your crush just made the first step in pursuing you.

"okay. text me an' i'll see you tonight." rafe sends you off with a pat on your back, walking past you much too casually for having just asked you out. what were you getting yourself into?

as per request — @sublimepenguinpeach-blog & @lalaloopsie

#₊˚⊹ ࿔#rafe cameron #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron x reader

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shurisneakers · 4 months ago

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unsolved (vii)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, mentions of hauntings and the paranormal.

A/N: hello. i am late again. i almost gave up but we are here. for better or for worse. i will most likely go back ad edit the second half again ok love u guys mwahmwah

Previous part || Series masterlist

Only after hours, nay, a full day of hunching over his desk, eyes red-rimmed and burning, four crushed cans of energy drinks next to him lending to him the nervous energy of a chihuahua, Bucky realises that there’s no beating it.

He absentmindedly takes another sip of the RedBull, flinching when the taste registers. Either he’d reached his threshold or the medicine flavour had begun morphing into something else entirely. The caffeine didn’t even work on him, so really, he was just placebo-ing himself into having energy.

Every site he’s visited has had a vastly different interpretation; ones that don't match what he thinks has been happening, or the context past his past provides. Others are simply blatantly wrong based on the additional research he, in his infinite wisdom and totally accurate self-assessment tendencies, has been gathering in the last 3 days.

The Star. Six of Cups. The Hanged Man.

Bucky knows he could ask someone in real life about this, someone who possibly had more experience than a simple website whose code broke every time he tried to scroll to the bottom. However, that would mean that he had to tell them his dead sister was probably haunting him out of her spite and hatred for the very fibres of his being.

Also, Bucky may be haunted by his dead relatives, but he’s not haunted enough to actually leave his room over it.

Video consultations were also an option, but he’s convinced that if word got out that Bucky Barnes was half-convinced ghosts were following him around, it would make headlines for a mighty long week.

Therefore, he resorts to shady, online websites that demand he pay up before giving him the results of the readings they’ve done for him.

The “lady” that he paid to talk to using Steve’s credit card on mistytarot.com types for a very long time before a message comes through.

The thought bubble disappears for another half an hour, and Bucky thinks hat either she is a complete scam, or it’s run by someone who is about as technologically proficient as Steve was.

But a message does in fact come through, and it’s enough to have him be covninced that the 20 bucks he blew on Steve’s card was worth it.

Lady Lilia

Considering that you think you’re being haunted, The Star could represent the absence of hope. Do you feel like you’re being trapped in darkness? As if you are being abandoned by the universe and with no room for healing?

B. Barneswell i forgot about it until now

Lady Lilia If your sister passed away a long time ago, the reason The Six of Cups may have presented itself is because you may be feeling like you're ensnared in the past, constantly reliving moments that hurt or confuse you, rather than finding peace.

A frown grows on his face.

Lady Lilia If you’re haunted by a person who used to be in your life and it is reminding you of past mistakes, The Hanged Man could be because feel like you're stuck in a cycle of stagnation, unable to move forward, as if these spirits are keeping you suspended in a state of emotional paralysis.

However, if the cards were upright–

Bucky slams the laptop shut, inhaling and exhaling sharply through his nose.

From the corner of his eye, his phone lights up with the fifth missed call in the last ten minutes, but considering that he keeps that thing on silent, he never even noticed.

Shoving aside whatever he may be thinking for the moment, he checks the caller ID, only for feelings of confusion and despair to be immediately replaced with annoyance, or disgust even.

He calls back anyway, preparing for the worst.

“Did you drink all my RedBull?” Clint booms the second he picks up.

“No,” Bucky lies smoothly.

“Fucker, I know it was you. Pay me back. With interest.”

“No.”

Clint switches to whining. “You know I need that shit to stay awake at night. Some of us don’t have superhero cocaine in our system.”

“I don’t care, go to sleep at a normal hour.”

“Say, did you drink every last one?” Clint instantly switches to a curious tone for a second. “Because one of them’s not like the others.”

Bucky looks at the cans that littered his bedroom floor. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you what it is over the phone.”

“Why?”

“Let’s just say it’s not exactly allowed in the country, but–”

Bucky cuts the call and tosses it onto the bed.

He runs a hand through his hair, softly exhaling while contemplating whether or not to continue the chat. Steve wouldn’t miss another 20 dollars, he had the wealth of a small prince with all that army back pay bullshit. In fact, Steve should ideally be funding more of Bucky’s endeavours.

There comes a knock at his door.

Bucky immediately leaps off the bed, sprinting to the door, because he fuckin knows that knock, goddamn it–

He throws open the door before you get the chance to full body slam against it.

“Oh.” You blink, relaxing away from your stance. “Hey. How’d you know–”

“You do this every week,” he breaks in. “You do this multiple times a day.”

“Don’t you dare say I’m predictable,” you warn, raising a finger. “I’ll start crying right here, then you’ll have to deal with that. You wanna see snot running down my–”

Bucky slams the door shut again, waiting to turn around.

“Can you take me to the doctor?” Your voice is muffled through the solid wood.

It’s enough to make him hesitate, hand on the doorknob.

“What’s wrong with you?” he inquires..

“Nothing, I’m perfect,” you reply instinctively, before course correcting, “Wait, no, I’m sick.”

He lets his head drop against the door. “Go to the fucking infirmary.”

“The infirmary told me to go to the hospital. Can you just take me?” you bug. “They won’t discharge me unless I have someone with me to drive me back.”

“You have a head injury?” Bucky asks, before following it with, “Actually, that tracks.”

“Rude.”

“Ask Nat.”

“Nat’s in Lagos.”

“Ask Sam.”

“Yoga.”

“Clint.”

“Really.”

“Glad to know I’m your first choice,” he mumbles, opening up the door.

You send him a blistering smile. “You’re my favourite choice.”

______

“You gotta take this turn,” you instruct, too close to the actual crossing.

“The nearest hospital’s five minutes away, what the hell are you talking about?“ he points out, eyes on the road.

“We’re going to the one on King’s Road,” you read off of Google maps. “Take that lef-– well, you missed that. Now you gotta make a u-turn.”

“What’s the problem with Chastain Park?” he demands. “King’s Road is half an hour away.”

“This one’s got all my files,” you insist. “Otherwise I gotta start over and it's so much effort.”

“Aren’t you in a database?”

“Yeah, but not a medical one.”

Bucky lets out something akin to a growl and a groan. “What's the time?”

“Like eight thirty?”

“What’s the time,” he emphasises, because he most definitely had another email due from another lady on the internet who he had sent his cards to a few hours ago.

“Fine, it’s eight twenty two,” you shoot back. “Did that make a big difference?”

“Yeah, it did actually,” he fires indignantly, “My life is radically different. You have no way of knowing.”

“Liar. You’re a lying liar, who lies.” You scoff. “And details are for losers.”

“Losers can drive all the way back to drop you off at the infirmary and let them deal with you.”

You relent, flashing him a grin. “This won’t take long.”

“You say this every fuckin’ time,” he groans, before complying and taking a u-turn anyway.

“You’re fucking joking,” he states.

“No, it’s actually called lying,” you correct casually.

“Is this an abandoned hospital? What the fuck?” Bucky asks, staring up at the huge decaying building.

The outside looks run-down, with cracked, weathered brick walls and broken windows. The entrance is blocked off with rusted gates, some sections of which have fallen over. As the car rolls up, the air is thick with a musty, damp smell, mixed with a faint odor of decay.

“Yes,” you say simply, opening the trunk of the car and pulling out all the supplies you had from last time. “Video time. Let’s go.”

“You didn’t have to lie,” Bucky mumbles. “I’d have showed up.”

You give him a deadpan look. “You famously never do.”

That’s fair, but also, that was the old Bucky. The new Bucky circa this week is a bit more… invested. He feels the need to gather some more information, and unfortunately, the only opportunity to do that is here.

So for the time being, he decides he will hang on. For purely selfish reasons.

“Just tell me next time,” he grunts.

You observe him for a second like you're about to call him out on something, but instead you simply say, “Okay.”

Bucky grabs his usual stuff– the spirit box, a lapel mic, while you levitate the camera.

“Hello?”

You both look beyond the camera at the same time to someone stalking up to you.

“Who’s there?” demands a middle aged woman with straw blonde hair, wrinkles decorating sunburnt skin, and a navy blue jacket.

“Uh–”

“Who are you?” she asks, cautiously stopping a few feet away.

“We’re here on a video shoot,” you inform. “Just wanted to check the place out.”

“Oh, you’re one of them camera folk,” she says, ponting her flashlight at you. “Those ghost hutner types.”

“That’s us,” you agree, flinching from the bright light. “We're from The Graveyard Shift.”

“Who are you?” Bucky cuts in, because why should only the both of you explain.

“I’ve been working security here for the last thirty years.” She shines her flashlight at the musty place. “Name’s Brenda.”

“Why does an abandoned hospital need a security guard?” Bucky inquires.

“Management just underwent a shift. White collars are setting up a mall here, so they bought up the whole place, fired everyone and now they’re gonna build an all year ski world or something in there.” There’s a tick in her jaw as she draws it out. “Whole damn place is cursed. They better hope it only burns down.”

“Okay,” you drag out, giving Bucky a sideways glance. “Anyway, we’re gonna go check out the place. See if we can find some ghosts.”

“Oh, you’ll see ‘em, alright. Everyone who was collateral damage in the buyout is still in there.” Her voice is distant, arm coming to rest on her hip. “You’ll have to hit up specific rooms. Y’all got a floorplan?”

“No, figured we’d just wing it.” You pause. “Hospital wing it.”

“Shut up,” Bucky replies on instinct.

“You’re gonna be spending a lot of time in there if y’all dont know where youre’ heading. It’s a maze,” she continues, ignoring your brilliant joke. “I can show you the rooms, but I can’t guarantee that it has ghosts in there.”

“Uhhh—” you begin.

“It’ll cut down your time in half.”

“Deal,” Bucky says immediately, sticking out his hand for a shake.

Brenda sticks out her hand too, only to wince immediately, following it up with a curse.

“What’s wrong?” you interject.

“Damn back’s killing me,” she mutters. “You’d think death would stop the pain, but it’s not let up yet. Come on then.”

Both of your eyebrows knit together at her statement, but she leaves no room for a reply as she marches inward, one hand on the small of her spine.

Bucky elects to use his phone flashlight, as if he keeps that shit charged above 40% at any given point of time. If anything is not going to make it out of the night alive, it was that thing.

The air inside is stale and heavy, filled with the scent of mildew and old, rusted metal. All three of your footsteps echo in the silence, reverberating through empty halls with each cautious step. The moonlight in conjunction with the flashlight casts long, unsettling shadows. The faint taste of dust lingers in the back of Bucky’s throat that he cannot get rid of.

“Y’all gonna sleep in here tonight?” Brenda pipes up, swinging her flashlight around.

You look at Bucky with a grin that’s alarming.

His face immediately pulls into one of “What the fuck”

“No, we aren’t,” you announce instead. “But do people do that often?”

“You’d be surprised,” she comments. “You’re not the first folks we’ve had here with those fancy shmancy gadgets.”

“That explains how you have a tour all planned.”

“We get a bunch of you every couple of months.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Bucky cuts in.

She pays him no need. “Y’all run a podcast?”

Bucky looks personally affronted. “No, we do not.”

“We run a YouTube channel,” you offer instead. “It’s for ghosts and stuff.”

“I see,” she considers, tone thoughtful. “So, this will go up online?”

“Unfortunately,” Bucky murmurs.

“Have you caught ghosts before?”

“Not even one–”

“Several,” you chirp. “And we have a witch cat. Her name’s Alpine.”

Bucky narrows his eyes at you. “Since when is her name Alpine?”

“I gave her a bunch of options and she told me she liked that best.”

“The cat can’t talk.”

“To you. She and I chat shit everyday,” you dish back. “She hates that stupid fern in your room, she says it smells.”

That fucking fern was not even his idea. But Sam got it for him when he moved in, so there was a zero percent chance it would be leaving any time soon.

“Tell her to fuck off.”

“Y’all got a large following?” Brenda interrupts.

“Building towards it.” You look at her before looking at Bucky. “Once we hit a sizable amount and Bucky becomes an official internet boyfriend, we’ll stop the series.”

He sends you a withering look. “We’ll be doing this till I die.”

“Nonsense, everyone loves you,” you dismiss. “You’re a pretty boy and extremely irritable. They think you’re hilarious.”

His nose twitches, and he feels the need to clear his throat.

“Your camera records ghosts?” Brenda asks again.

“We’ve got a bunch of devices. We’ll catch it,” you sound confident.

“Great, because here’s the first stop,” she says, pressing her shoulder onto a double door.

The door groans as she pushes, its hinges protesting with a long, rusty screech, the cold metal heavy under her hand. A stale gust of air hits your face, carrying the faint smell of rot as the door finally gives way.

She steps back with a small huff, stretching her back with a small, “Shit.”

The pale blue walls had turned greenish, wallpaper peeling away. Counters were covered with a thin layer of dust. Old tools laid unused on the surgical table, once stainless steel but now rusted.

“A lotta deaths happened in this operating theatre,” she imparts after a bout of stretching. “They thought this place was cursed for a while.”

The sterile, tiled walls are cracked and chipped, and the old surgical lights hang dim, their bulbs long burned out. The air still lingers with antiseptic that’s long since turned sour.

Bucky feels a little too acquainted with this setting.

He doesn’t even realise his silence is palpable until you nudge his side, drawing his attention sharply back to you.

“You doin’ okay?” you whisper.

“Fine,” he says, tearing his eyes away from the tools and towards you.

It only twists his stomach a little. It makes him think of how different his reactions used to be even a few years go.

“Old, dingy hospitals may not have been the best idea,” you admit to him, using the flashlight to shine a light in the corner.

It occurs to him a second later once he forces himself to compartmentalise.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” you reply, slowly looking around. “Just looks like my nursery.”

A small crease forms between his eyebrows.

“Not gonna lie, mine was way prettier. Lot more mould on the walls,” you continue, tone light. “You know, timeless decor.”

His nose lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh. “Leviathan not into blood stain wallpaper?”

“Couldn’t afford it. Fuckin’ place kept referring to itself as Hydra’s sister org but had none of the budget,” you say, swiping a finger across the dust. “You’d think that at least some of the people that left would give alumni donations, but no.”

Bucky snickers at jokes literally no one else would laugh at. It feels good for once, not to feel the need to censor himself to make others less uncomfortable.

You take a step forward, camera following behind you.

You shine the flashlight around the room, noting all the surgical trays piled together.

But something flashes on the ceiling.

You swing your flashlight toward it immediately, only for the table beside you a few inches away to start rolling, making a loud whining noise as it did, snapping your attention towards it.

By the time you finally bring the light back up towards the ceiling, it’s gone.

“What the–” you mumble.

“What?” Bucky asks, looking up from where he was scrolling through his phone.

“Could’a sworn I saw–” you frown at the empty space now, only an old defunct looking camera staring back at you.

“Red eyes?” Brenda inquires, looking at you. “Yeah, that happens.”

Bucky glances up at you, and then the wall. “Probably just the lens glare.”

You scrunch up your face at her. “How’d you know it was red eyes?”

“That’d be the spirit of ol’ Doctor Damon, chief of neuro,” she says. “You’ll find him here or his cabin, but that’s a few floors away. He never liked climbing the stairs.”

“Right,” Bucky acknowledges monotonously.

“When he worked here, he spent so long in surgery that his eyes were always bloodshot. One day he just dropped dead from exhaustion,” Brenda explains. “So his spirit walks around here, red eyes, wheeling surgery tables waiting for the next patient.”

“What’s he doing on the ceiling?” Bucky questions, going back to his phone. “He did his surgeries suspended midair?”

“Are you trying to gatekeep the ceiling?” you scoff. “Have you never seen Spiderman hanging upside down for fun?”

Bucky finally lifts his sight from the phone. “The doctor is not an insect superhero, he would have no reason to be hanging upside down–”

“How would you know if he’s a superhero or not? What if he was bitten by a bat?” you challenge. “Like a bat…guy. Batman.”

He jeers. “Then he’s got a stupid codename.”

“Oh, and Captain America is poetic genius.”

“At least Sam has a codename, where’s yours?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Maybe you should have paid attention when your mother was screaming it las-”

“Shall we move on?” Brenda asks calmly.

“Yes,” the both of you reply simultaneously.

She doesn’t even bother looking at you, almost as if she’d seen it all in her lifetime.

“Besides, sometimes you can see him sitting on one of the operating tables. He doesn’t just hang out on the ceiling like… bat…man,” she explains, leading the way back out.

“See?”

“See what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he replies. “There’s nothing to see. That’s the fuckin’ point.”

You shove him lightly.

Bucky bites back a grin.

_____

The morgue is silent.��

The ceiling is low and chipped, streaked with stains of old water damage, the paint fallen away in patches.

Against one wall, old, disused morgue drawers stand open and half-broken, the once-sleek stainless steel now speckled with rust. Some of the drawers are bent out of shape, while others are stuck, sealed tight from years of neglect. Inside some of the open drawers, tattered, yellowed tags hang loosely from the handles, swaying gently as the chill air moves through the room.

“This room’s self explanatory,” she says. “Sometimes, you can hear spirits still trying to claw their way out of the drawers but they never open.”

“Skill issue,” Bucky mumbles under his breath.

“Shut up, oh my God,” you whisper-yell, still mouth pulling into a thin line to stop from laughing.

“What?” Brenda asks, suddenly from near the drawers.

You had no idea when she even went there.

“Nothing,” you reply, before thoughtfully asking, “Bucky, truth or dare?”

“No.”

“Dare it is.” You shine a flashlight at one of the closed drawers. “I’ll give you twenty bucks if you get in one of them for a few seconds. Let’s see if the ghosts come at you.”

“You're deranged,” he replies, incredulous.

“It’s for science,” you insist. “How else will you know for sure?”

“I’m sure it’ll be comfortable,” Brenda quips. “Like a coffin.”

The both of you look at her together in silence.

She shrugs. “It’s what I’ve heard from them.”

You look at her for a second more, before turning to Bucky. “Anyway, if you want I’ll come lie in there with you.”

“How does that make it better?” he exclaims. “I am not lying in the morgue.”

“Even if I’m in there with you?”

“That’s even worse–”

There’s a loud knock from one of the drawers on Brenda’s side. She looks down at it, almost like she was expecting it. Soon, there are further loud thuds that come from inside the remaining drawers.

“Hey, Magda,” she calls, before more knocks come from inside. “You’ve got visitors. Say hello.”

You grab the spirit box from behind Bucky’s ear and hold it in the direction of the wall. Nothing registers.

“Animals,” he answers the question hanging in the air calmly.

“The spirits?” Brenda replies. “They’re not gonna like that.”

Sure enough, a few of the drawers start rattling on their own accord.

You look at Bucky with an eyebrow raised.

“What?” he carps. “I’m not gonna go lie down in there, if that’s what you want.”

“Come on, take one for the team,” you whine.

“You take one for the team.”

“I’m literally the one pulling all the weight around here. You do it.”

Bucky doesn’t agree with you on the last part, but the first one is undisputably right. He makes a mental note to start contributing a fuckton more if he plans on continuing on in the series.

The rattling around comes to a halt eventually.

“If none of you want to get in there, should we move to the next one?” Brenda points to the door.

“Yes, please,” you confirm, sending Bucky a glare.

She leads the way up the stairs while you both follow, bickering and shoving lightly.

Once upstairs, Bucky glances down the hall, only to see a large double door that is noticeably different from the rest you’ve seen so far. There’s a fading rainbow drawn on the front, little footsteps painted onto the floor leading towards it.

Bucky hesitates, steps faltering. “Is that the children’s ward?”

“Yes,” Brenda looks over her shoulder briefly.

For a second, he wonders. Whether it was worth a shot. He hadn’t heard from her since the incident at the house, and the tarot cards have been suggesting nothing but reasons to believe she may actually be there.

“Are we going to check that out?” he asks.

“No, there’s nothing there,” she shrugs it off. “No spirits. I’ve asked the others too.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. “Are you sure?”

You shoot him an odd look that he refuses to meet.

“Yep. Next stop’s the other way.”

Bucky spares the doors another long look, before traversing down the hallway with you.

“Why do you wanna go to the children’s ward?” you query, voice low.

“Just thought it was worth checking out,” he replies, voice steady.

“We can always make a run for it and go check.”

“No,” he says, giving you a curt shake of his head, “it’s alright.”

“We’re right down this way,” Brenda calls, turning a corner and disappearing out of sight.

“Coming!” you call back before spinning to Bucky. “Hey.”

“What?” he responds, moving at his own brisk pace.

You tug him back with you with force.

“What are you doing–’ he hisses.

You link your arm with Bucky’s, pulling him along with you as you walk, shutting him up. He eyes your elbow looped with his and the proximity with which you walked beside him and all of a sudden, the back of his neck feels quite warm, extending down to his chest.

“I think Brenda’s a ghost,” you tell him casually.

Bucky stops in his path, drawn very much back to reality.

“Keep walking,” you grit through a smile. “I’m pretty sure she’s dead. Why else is she totally chill with the ghosts here-”

“Because there aren’t any. It’s animals.”

“Why is she saying coffins are comfortable? Why is she talking to the ghosts and knowing exactly where they are and aren’t?”

“I can make shit up too, look,” Bucky comments enthusiastically. “Oh, down the hall is the isolation room. You’ll hear heavy breathing because that’s where the tuberculosis patients were–”

“That’s one of the isolation rooms,” Brenda’s voice echoes down the hall. “It’s next up.”

You yank your arm away from Bucky when he blinks, a bit surprised himself.

“Are you dead?” you whisper-yell.

“Only ‘cause the government declared it,” he sighs. “Do you know what a fuckin’ pain it is to get undead.”

“Come on.” Brenda beckons to the both of you with her flashlight.

With a slight shove, the door to the room swings open easily, but the smell of old paper and mildew floods your senses.

The bed is now a rusted, sagging frame, the thin mattress long since torn and discolored with age. The once-clean sheets have yellowed and frayed, with remnants of old stains. Thin, brittle blankets lie in a heap on the floor.

The walls are bare, save for a few faded medical charts and broken instruments that were left behind in haste. The small window that once offered a faint glimpse of the outside is now cracked and filthy. The weak, filtered light that struggles through the dust-covered glass barely illuminates the room.

“Patients who were highly contagious were quarantined here. Some of them died without family by their side, so you can still hear their cries. Some of them have problems breathing, so sometimes you’ll hear it through the vents,” Brenda explains.

“I bet,” Bucky drags out, sending you a “I fuckin’ told you so” look..

Down the hall, something makes a loud sound, almost like something had crashed into the floor.

All three of you turn towards it.

Brenda’s face flickers for a moment before turning back to its regular calm.

“I think someone’s angry,” she decides. “I’m gonna go check it out.”

“Do you want us to come with you?” you offer.

“I’ll be okay, I’ve known these people all my life. We’re friends,” she comforts. “Oh, sometimes if you look out the door, you’ll see shadows of people in the waiting room down the hall. They’re just old families lingering around, hoping for better results but they always leave upset.”

“Is there no way to get them out of here?” you ask.

She shrugs. “Unless you find a way to fix their disappointment, I doubt they'll leave. They’ll stick around until something improves or changes.”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at the implication. If that were truly the case, and not just something he concocted in the deep, self hating crevices of his mind, then he had to figure out which part of the fucked up mess that he was had pissed his sister off enough to come back to let him know she was disappointed.

You nod at her and she nods, spinning on her heel to exit the room, but not before she stops for a second, hand on the doorframe as she catches her breath, and one hand on her spine.

“Are you okay?” you sound genuinely concerned.

She flashes you a thumbs up, leaving without so much as another word.

“She’s gonna come back with some bullshit about the hospital canteen staff dropping their pans or some shit,” Bucky remarks.

“Yeah no, that was me. I just wanted her out of the room so we could discuss something,” you wave it off quickly.

Bucky stares at you.

“What? I dropped a cart. It’s not a big deal. Anyway, listen–”

“She’s not a ghost,” he states resolutely.

“But what if she is,” you insist, a wicked grin on your face. “Imagine saying we got a ghost tour. By a ghost.”

“I can imagine saying that, yes. I have a very wide and limitless imagination.”

“Ugh, what if we’re meant to help her find her way back?” You peer over his shoulder to see if she’s walking back.

In the distance another crash sounds through the empty hallways. Bucky stares at you.

“I’m just making sure, it’s not like I’m hurting anyone” you insist, dismissing it.

“You could've just closed the door,” he says, extending one hand behind him to slide it closed.

“Don’t do that,” you blurt out.

He stops, eyebrow raised.

“I don't like when doors are closed,” you shrug it off. “Anyway, back to the point. We should totally figure out how to help her exit this realm.”

He slides the door back open slowly, narrowing his eyes at you.

“EVen if she were a ghost, which she’s not– she seems happy here. Maybe,” Bucky comments, taking a seat on the worn out bed. “I can’t really tell.”

“She can’t be. Imagine being forced to roam the same hallways over and over again till the end of time.” you shudder. “Sounds miserable.”

Bucky shrugs, poking at the pillow, watching a cloud of dust fly up from it. “Routine sounds fine to me.”

“I’d hate it,” you counter immediately. “I hate routines. Fucking inescapable once you get stuck in one.”

Bucky watches you curiously as you shift up and down the small room. “How do you get anything done?”

“I can get things done without a routine.” The camera follows your command, checking outside the window or the door occasionally facing Bucky. “Why?”

“Just asking,” he replies, checking the time on his phone. It’d been a while since Brenda had gone to investigate.

“And having a routine totally makes you an easy target. Haven’t you watched any assassination movies?”

“No. I didn’t like bringing work home.”

You look at him in surprise before your face splits into a smile.

Something makes a noise from the wall adjacent to the door.

You both look at each other, and he gets off the bed to go see what the deal is. The door is adjacent to the wall, giving him a clear look into the hallway that was still empty.

A faint wail sounds through the vent above his head. You take quick steps towards where he was, and the camera follows suit, pointing at the grill on the wall.

You stand underneath it, spirit box raised as close as you could get it, but the damn thing picks up nothing.

Another noise comes through, almost like someone was wheezing, before the vent rattles, stopping altogether.

You stare at it, before taking a gigantic inhale and exhaling obnoxiously, forcing all the air out of your lungs with a wheeze.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Bucky stares at you like you're insane.

“Well, you can’t just back down,” you argue. “I’m gonna breathe louder than that thing.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles.

You give another gigantic inhale and exhale, rattling all the bones in your body, and the faint noise from the vent stops too.

“We win,” you beam

“You’ve completely lost it.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t. I totally won.”

“That’s not what I–” Bucky starts but stops himself when you grin at him devilishly.

He sighs, asking instead, “Should we go looking for her?”

“I guess so,” you shrug. “We’re not exactly cut to be her saviours right now. I’m pretty sure she knows the layout of the hospital better than we do if she’s been haunting it for fifteen years.”

“Where did you get that number?” he demands.

“Does it matter?” you urge. “Didn’t realise you’re a valid ghost only if you have a certain number of years in haunting.”

Bucky ignores you, taking off down the hall.

“If you had to haunt a hospital or a ship, what would you choose?” you quip, matching his pace.

“Hospital,” he answers without thinking much.

“Why?”

“I spent a lot of time in them,” he tells you, voice clear. “Steve’s mom was a nurse. We’d meet her there a lot when he got his ribs broken or his nose busted.”

The memory, though faint, is enough to pull a smile from him.

“He also used to be sick a lot, so I used to come pick up his medicine for him,” he adds. “They used to know us by name because we’d be there nearly every second day.”

You exhale a small laugh. “Every hospital in the state of New York has a chart for Steve even now.”

“Fuckin’ guy just dosn’t learn.” Bucky shakes his head with affection-laced irritation.

The hallways stretch out endlessly, dim and wide. A few doors line the walls, some ajar, revealing only darkness inside. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the soft sound of you and your footsteps.

Bucky looks over at you. “What about you?”

“What about me?” you hum, small smile still on your face.

“What would you haunt?

“Ship, I guess,” you reply. “I’ve always wanted to be a pirate.”

“Should be your next job.”

“You gonna come with? We’ll turn it into a vlog.

“Fuck no.”

“Well, thanks for taking the time to really consider it,” you sing, not really offended. “Way to let me down gently, Barnes.”

“What? It’s got nothin’ to do with you.” Bucky clarifies still, pausing before letting out, “I get seasick. Can’t be on water for more than five minutes before I’m throwing up all over the place. You want that in your vlog?”

It’s enough to elicit a laugh from you, that in turn makes the corner of his lip curl.

“We could always–

Right in front of him, something moves darts across the wall at the end of the hall.

It cuts you off mid-sentence too, the both of you glancing at each other before turning towards it again.

Against the glare of your flashlight, another shadow darts across the wall.

“That’s what she was talking about,” you whisper, slightly in disbelief that she wasn't wrong. “Shadow people. Do you think they got to her?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, continuing to walk on ahead.

“Um, hello?” you scramble to catch up with him. “Where is your self preservation?”

“Against what?” he asks stoically.

“That,” you say pointedly at the wall, when another figure darts across the wall and disappears out of sight.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “It’s a shadow, the fuck’s it gonna do?”

“Haven’t you heard of shadow demons? Succumbing to darkness?” you chastise.

Bucky stops walking, standing solidly in the middle of the hallway.

“Okay,” he says, refusing to budge.

The hall goes silent, no movement other than the steady rise and falls of your chest.

You stare at him. “Now what.”

“I'm waiting for them to do something,” he says. “I’m waiting to succumb to the darkness.”

“You’re so annoying,” you bite, dragging him along with you. “And I’m tired, we’ve been walking for like, eight hundred hours. Let’s go.”

“We’ve been here for two hours,” he reminds you, taking a turn into the corner that the shadows disappeared into. “You did this to yourself.”

“Fine, next time I’ll bring an electric scooter with me.” You huff. “And I won’t even let you use it.”

“Where’d Brenda fuckin’ go?” Bucky mumbles, eyes squinting into the darkness to see if there are any clues.

“Where are you guys going?” Someone pipes up from behind you, sending the hairs on his neck up.

The both of you spin around instantly, arms clenched in a fighting stance.

“Sorry, it's a habit to take the scenic route back.” She chuckles, unfazed. “Not a lot to do when you’ve been here so long.”

The both of you lower your hands slowly, letting out an exhale.

“Y’all ready to head out?” she inquires, coolly. “I think it’s time we all get some rest.”

The walk back is relatively quicker, ater she leads you down a path she calls a shortcut.

The only thing that slowls you down are the occasional stops you had to make for her back ache.

Right by the entrance of the hospital, she holds onto the door frame again in the midst of explaining who was haunting the basements.

After a particularly hard exhale and a clamour to stand back up, Bucky awkwardly clears his throat to ask, “Have you tried this stretch?”

“What?” Brenda asks, eyes curious.

“Learnt it in physio. Doesn’t cure it, but it helps,” he explains, craning his neck to the sides, before taking a step ahead towards her.

You watch him in thinly veiled delight as he shows her exactly what joint to bend and in which angle, and the degree to which she had to pivot.

He even uncomfortably guides her shoulders in the strangest yoga session you’d ever witnessed.

“Should help,” Bucky mumbles, taking a step away.

She raises her shoulders and drops it, lips pursuing and bows raising in a look that seems impressed. The small hunch she carried wit her seems to have disappeared too.

“Let’s go,” Bucky doesn’t wait for a thanks or anything, taking a step away from her and towards the exit.

“Now that you’ve fixed her back ache, how do we fix her haunting the place?” you ask lowly.

“She’s not a fuckin’ ghost, she’s fine,” he whispers back.

“Nothing about what she’s said tonight is normal,” you argue.

The night is clear and cool when you step out, the musty scent of the building dissipating almost immediately.

“Just say bye, we’re fuckin’ leaving,” Bucky shoots.

You sigh loudly, giving him a glare at his lack of helpfulness before plastering a smile on your face and turning around.

“Well, thanks for everything, Brenda,” you say, turning around to stick your hand out. “We sure couldn’t have–”

But she’s gone.

“Holy shit,” you say.

Bucky looks over his shoulder at the disturbance, before turning around fully. “Oh, fuck off.”

“I told you she was a ghost,” you gush. “You fixed her back ache and now she has crossed over to the other side.”

“Shut up,” he replies, looking all over the place for a sign of where she could have disappeared to.

“You did it, Bucky, you helped a lonely spirit,” you cheer.

“I did not.”

“Hey!” Someone shouts from afar, commanding your attention to the gate again.

“Not again,” Bucky mumbles, eyes snapping shut.

“More ghosts,” you point out excitedly. “Come on, Charon, ferry those spirits–”

“You ferry your own spirits, I’m going to sleep,” he interjects, fully intending on ignoring the person at the gate and simply getting in the car.

“What are you guys doing here?” A man pants, jogging up to the both of you before Bucky had the time to leave.

“We were just taking a look around,” you say, sticking your hand out, much to Bucky’s displeasure. “We heard the place was haunted.”

“Ah, I see,” he replies, taking in your appearance. “Podcasters?”

“No,” Bucky replies instantly.

“We were just leaving,” you cut in. “We already got a tour by this ghost, and Bucky totally sent her to the afterlife.”

“I did not,” he seethes.

“She disappeared after saying ominous shit this entire evening, what do you call that?” you challenge.

“Going home,” Bucky responds, frustrated that he was clearly not afforded the same privilege.

“Uh–” the guy holds up his finger. “--not to intrude, but you got a tour by a ghost?”

“Yes,” you bubble over with excitement.

“And this ghost… did they have a backache?”

Bucky’s interest piques, the irritation giving way to intrigue .

“You know her?” you puzzle.

“Uh yeah, that’s Brenda,” he admits sheepishly. “She’s very much alive.”

Bucky would have sworn he had never been this elated in his life, but unfortunately he realises very quickly that he simply does not care.

“She said she was a security guard here– wait, who are you?” you tilt your head at him, seemingly not upset at all. It reduces Bucky’s non-existent triumph even more.

“Travis Dowell, Labyrinth Inc. representative,” he says, shaking your hand. “We’re–”

“--the company that bought the place,” you complete, eyebrow raised.

“Yeah.” He nods. “Brenda was a security guard here for nearly thirty years. We had to let go of her when we bought the hospital. We’ve been trying to turn it into an apartment for years, but there’s a lot of red tape that we have to get past because of healthcare reasons.”

“Yeah, she told us that it got bought,” you follow along.

“Hospital was in the worst financial situation possible. There was just no way out.” He shrugs. “But she was super attached to this place. She didn’t take the redevelopment plans well, so she’s taken it upon herself to make sure it never happens, I guess? I don’t know, she spends a lot of time here convincing people that it’s haunted so that people don’t build anything here. She’s got an apartment close by so she knows when someone’s around. You’ll probably find her there, if you want.”

“You guys know about her?” Bucky questions, crease between his eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah, we do,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “We sorta ignore her. Her schtick’s annoying, but it’s not the reason we haven’t demolished this place yet. Once all the zoning issues get cleared up, the building’s coming down. And besides, all the PR’s just gonna have people pay a shit ton to stay here. You know, novelty of it being haunted, and all that.”

“How’d you know we were here?” you ask pointedly.

“We’ve set up motion sensors in the place?” he replies. “You may have seen them. The red lights in the operation rooms. We know she takes people there.”

“Oh, that’s what that was,” you turn to Bucky who simply shakes his head lightly.

“Yeah, she really goes the extra mile.” Travis shifts from one leg to the other. “There’s raccoons in the morgue that start running around if she hits the door. What else… oh yeah, she’s made a hole in one of the isolation rooms to make noises through the wall.”

Bucky wonders what will happen of all the footage now that none of it was essentially real. It made sense why she kept trying to find out where the video was going to be posted and how many people were going to view it now, as if a large number of views were going to save her beloved building.

“So you’ll just let her do whatever until the demolition happens?” you question.

“If it gets her to stop vandalising our office downtown.” He shrugs. “It doesn’t make a difference to us either way.”

“Right. So the real horror…” you say. “...is capitalism.”

Travis stares at you, before raising and dropping his shoulders. “Sure.”

“Alright.” You blow out an exhale. “Well, was anything about tonight real?”

“I mean, she really does have back pain,” he adds helpfully.

You turn to Bucky. “Net positive, then.”

Sure. Why the fuck not.

“Okay, Travis, thanks for this. You’ve been an immense help,” you say aloud, hoisting the camera onto your shoulders. “You can watch us on The Graveyard Shift, if we can figure out what to do with all these videos now.”

“Sorry about that,” he replies, shoving his fists into his pocket. “Good night.”

You watch as he turns and jogs away to his car that was parked a bit closer to the gate than yours was.

Bucky plucks the camera off your shoulder and places it under his arm, even though he’s well aware you can carry fifteen of them at once.

“That was fun,” you tell him, seemingly over it already.

“I’m fuckin’ starving,” he replies.

Bucky should be glad then, that he didn’t bother with the children’s ward, if nothing about tonight was real–

“Travis, wait,” you shout all of a sudden. “What about the shadows?”

“What shadows?” he calls back, confused.

“The shadow people moving across the hall from the isolation room?”

He raises his eyebrows. “We haven't heard reports of that.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Bucky mumbles.

“Hell yeah,” you reply, knocking into his shoulder. “Haunted hospital, baby.”

When you walk into the dining room, you don’t really expect anyone to be there that late at night.

But fiery red hair pulled into a ponytail and an oversized t-shirt perched at the kitchen counter catches you off guard, dulling the arguing between you and Bucky as you argue the logistics of Brenda having a hand in the shadow demons.

“Took you guys long enough,” Nat keeps her mug down on the counter before hopping off the chair. You note that it’s the same one you got her a few weeks ago from the flea market, the blue ceramic one.

“Oh, hi!” you smile wide, when she pulls you into a hug. “I thought you were in Lagos.”

“I was,” she replies, pulling away. “Got done early.”

“Of course you did. Overachiever.”

In the end of the common room, Bucky can hear the faint sounds of late night infomercials play through the TV. Clint’s legs hung off the couch as he lay snoring in front of it, blanket dropped on the floor in a heap.

“Hot chocolate?” she offers.

“I’m good, we went to the drive-through before coming back.” You beckon with your shoulder towards Bucky.

She finally turns to him. “Hey.”

Bucky gives her a curt nod, glad that she’s back safe.

“Why were you out so late?” She gives him a onceover, before raising an eyebrow. “Together.”

“Hospital date.”

“Video shoot,” he says at the same time, glaring at you. You shrug.

Nat’s lip trails up into a smirk. “Put on your big boy pants and finally admit your crush?”

Bucky drags a palm down his face. “I do not have a crush.”

“If you say so,” she concedes innocently, eyeing him over the rim of her hot chocolate.

“Are you all in on this? Do you have a quota to reach?” he groans. “Why’s everyone asking me this?”

“Who is ‘everyone’?” you sound delighted.

“If you don’t want people to call you out on our shit, maybe don’t walk around with heart eyes,” Nat comments.

Buck’s look is ice cold, but Nat just gives him a wink when you laugh.

“Hey, I needed to talk to you about something.” She turns to you. “You free for a second?”

“Always,” you reply in earnest.

Nat leads you a few steps away, hand on your shoulder.

Bucky takes his seat at the counter, stealing a sip from Nat’s mug. Of course, it was fantastic. Overachiever.

He tunes out intentionally, focusing on the fact that Clint was splayed out on the couch with the TV on a low volume. He knows for a fact the blonde was asleep, and probably would wake up with the worst neck pain in his life, but this was the life he chose.

After watching Clint nearly fall off the couch twice, he looks away, not intending on prying on your conversation but vaguely watching the interaction out of the corner of his eye.

He frowns at what he sees. Nat’s face has turned solemn while she talks to you in hushed tones. Your eyebrows were pulled together, arms crossed over your chest.

Bucky feels a shift in the air, but he’s not sure what exactly has gone down.

Nat finally tells you something surely, and you nod. She cups the side of your face and you force out a smile at her, before her hand drops.

The both of you make your way back to him. He turns his gaze back to the counter.

“You owe me a hot chocolate,” Nat tells him, before giving him a quick kiss on the temple and stealing her cup right back.

“I barely drank any,” he retorts, eyes still trained on you.

The TV clicks off and she drags a half asleep Clint back down the hall to his bedroom while the man rubbed at his shoulders, trailing behind her obediently.

Meanwhile, you grab a glass of water from the tap, drinking it slowly as you head towards the elevator.

“G’night, Buck,” you tell him, passing by him.

“Hold on,” he says, voice less gruff than before as he watches you, face tight, “What’s going on?

You observe him for a few long seconds, but he gets the sense you aren’t exactly looking at him. Your eyes are slightly glazed over, and your mind is… elsewhere.

“What do you do when people refuse to let go of something you’ve already escaped?” you ask finally.

“What do you mean?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together tighter.

“Do you feel like everyone’s eyes are on you?” you say, voice strange. “Like there’s nowhere to go?”

“Where is this coming from? What’d Nat tell you?”

It seems to snap you out of whatever funk you were in, at least partially. “It’s probably nothing.”

His frown only deepens. “Is someone threatening you?”

“No, nothing like that.” You shake your head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s gonna be fine.”

Bucky stares after you as you press the button to the elevator. He isn’t really sure what to make of the what you just shared. He isn’t even sure he should ask Nat about it later on considering that she didn’t want him listening in now.

He watches the light above the elevator light up before a ding sounds through.

“Just so you know–”

Bucky’s eyes snap back to you, one step in the elevator.

“I had a codename, too,” you tell him. “I just never liked it.”

Bucky is only left staring as you disappear into the elevator, leaving him in silence.

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surielstea · 2 months ago

Text

Dancing With Fate - III

Read part one and two first!

Pairing: Nyx x TamlinsDaughter!Reader

Summary: Nyx and Reader are advancing in their relationship, now in the Day court where they can spend time together without fear of getting caught.

Warnings: A little heated kissing but this is just a fluff chapter!

A.Note: Guysss this little series is about to get so good and juicy I promise, also please vote on this poll for what you’d like to see in the next chapter!

Wordcount: 7.5k

The morning I was set to leave, Spring Court's estate felt suffocating. The weight of my father's expectations, the ever-watchful eyes of the sentries, the knowledge that I was slipping away not just for a visit—but for him—pressed down on me. I told myself it wasn't a lie. I was going to see Lucien. I was supposed to be there. But deep in my chest, the bond hummed, whispering truths I couldn't ignore.

I could still feel his lips on mine, the press of his hands at my waist, the quiet promise he had left me with before I winnowed away. Three days. It had felt like an eternity. Now that the time had come, I found myself glancing over my shoulder as I crossed the courtyard, my pulse quickening with every step toward the open lands of Spring.

My father had been surprisingly agreeable when I asked to visit Lucien—perhaps because I rarely asked for anything at all. Perhaps because it was easier for him to believe I sought an escape rather than suspect the truth. Either way, the approval had been granted after minor convincing.

I let out a slow breath, focusing on my destination as I prepared to winnow.

The air shimmered around me, and with a final glance at my home—if it could even be called that—I vanished.

The Day Court was a world of golden light and sprawling dunes, a kingdom carved from the sun itself. I landed on one of its marble pathways, the heat instantly settling over my skin like a second layer. White and gold towers stretched toward the sky, the brilliance of them nearly blinding.

Lucien was already waiting.

He leaned against one of the courtyard pillars, arms crossed, his red hair catching the sunlight in hues of copper and fire. He arched a brow the moment I appeared, pushing off the pillar with a lazy sort of grace.

"You're on time," he mused. "Did the skies part for a miracle, or are you actually excited to see me?"

I rolled my eyes, falling into step beside him as he led me toward the palace. "Don't flatter yourself, Lucien. I'm just desperate for decent company."

His chuckle was warm, genuine, but his sharp gaze flickered over me, assessing. Lucien always noticed more than he let on. "And here I thought Spring Court was finally growing on you."

I scoffed. "Like poison."

Lucien didn't argue. He simply guided me through the sunlit halls, the scent of citrus and sea breeze drifting through the open archways. But I could feel the words he wanted to say pressing against his tongue.

"Go on," I said finally. "Say whatever it is you're thinking before you combust."

He cast me a knowing glance. "You have a look about you."

I blinked. "A look?"

"A very particular look." He stopped in front of a set of golden doors, his expression unreadable. "The kind that usually means trouble."

I fought the urge to fidget under his scrutiny. "You're imagining things."

"I've known you since you were six," Lucien huffed a quiet laugh, pushing the doors open. "But if you say so."

The throne room was empty when we stepped inside. Not that I expected anything different—Lucien had told me Helion would be absent for the week, handling an issue near the borders. It made my request easier, less complicated.

"How long will I be staying?" I asked, trailing a hand along the intricate carvings of the marble table.

"As long as you need," Lucien answered, his voice easy, but his gaze watchful. "But your father expects a week. Don't get any ideas."

I turned to him, weighing my words carefully. "You did say I could visit whenever I wanted."

"That, I did," he acknowledged. "But I also know you don't make casual trips anywhere. So either you've grown fond of me—" He smirked. "—or there's something else going on."

I hesitated, the bond thrumming softly in my chest. Nyx would be here soon. I could feel it, that gentle pull like a tide calling me home.

"I just need time," I said finally. "Time away from Spring. Time to breathe."

Lucien studied me, his expression softening just slightly. Then he nodded. "Then you'll have it."

Relief flooded through me, but before I could thank him, the air behind me stirred.

The scent of summer rain and star-kissed skies filled the room.

My breath caught.

Lucien's lips twitched, amusement flashing in his russet eye as he glanced past me. "Right. Now this all makes sense."

I turned, and there he was.

Nyx stood in the archway, clad in deep blue, his dark hair tousled by the wind. His sapphire eyes locked onto mine, something unreadable flickering within them.

A slow, lazy smirk curved his lips. "Miss me, princess?"

Lucien let out a long, dramatic sigh. "Cauldron boil me. You do have a look about you."

Nyx didn't hesitate as he crossed the room, moving with that effortless confidence that made it impossible to look away. Like the world had never given him a reason to doubt himself. Like he belonged here, with me.

The bond hummed softly in my chest as he stopped a few feet away, his gaze settling on Lucien with a quiet, knowing amusement.

Lucien, for his part, didn't seem surprised. He just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before leveling a sharp look at me. "So. This is why you came."

I winced. "Lucien—"

He held up a hand. "Tell me the truth. How long has this been going on?"

I hesitated, stealing a glance at Nyx, who only smirked. Smug bastard. "It's...new."

Lucien arched a brow. "New?"

"Three days," Nyx supplied unhelpfully, rocking back on his heels. "Well, three days since she kissed me."

Lucien's eye twitched. I swatted Nyx's arm.

"Since we kissed," I corrected.

Lucien's gaze flicked between us, unimpressed. Then he exhaled heavily. "And your parents?"

My stomach twisted. I dropped my gaze, my fingers curling into the sleeves of Nyx's jacket. "None of them know."

Lucien let out a short, humorless laugh. "Gods, just like your parents. Just like them." He ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself. "Why do both of your families insist on making my life difficult?"

"Lucien—" I started, guilt pressing into my ribs.

"I know, Fawn," he interrupted, shaking his head. "You're good. You're okay."

I exhaled, my shoulders loosening slightly. I hated using Lucien's kindness like this, but I needed this. I needed to be here, needed him.

Lucien gave me a long, considering look before sighing dramatically. "My wife will be thrilled that Nyx is visiting, so I suppose you can stay." He gave a look of acknowledgment to the heir of Night.

Nyx dipped his head in gratitude, but before he could respond, Lucien turned to him fully with a sharp, easy threat. "Though, if you hurt her, and I'll be sending armies to your doorstep."

I groaned. "Uncle—"

"Completely understood," Nyx said, ignoring my protests.

Lucien only huffed, then turned toward the open archway. "Come on, Your Highness, let's get you settled before I regret my entire existence."

Nyx winked at me before following, falling into step beside him as they led me through the sunlit halls.

—

Lucien's home within the Day Court was smaller than the palace itself but no less grand. The rooms were warm, decorated in golds and creams, with sweeping balconies that overlooked the distant dunes.

Lucien pushed open a set of doors, revealing a guest suite. "This is for her," he said pointedly, flicking his gaze to Nyx. "You, however, can take the room down the hall."

Nyx smirked. "Separate rooms? What do you take me for, Vanserra?"

Lucien gave him a deadpan stare. "Someone with a death wish."

I stepped inside before they could continue, rolling my eyes. "You two are worse than children."

Nyx only chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as I took in the space. It was lovely—soft linens, airy curtains, a private balcony that bathed the room in golden light, and a ginormous bathtub sunken into the floor like the room's very own indoor pool. All this for a guest?

I was going to tease Lucien about it but when I turned back, Nyx was watching me carefully.

"We don't have long," he murmured, the humor fading just slightly from his voice.

I swallowed, my fingers tightening around the fabric of my dress. "I know."

Lucien cleared his throat. "Right. That's my cue to leave." He shot me a look, something softer beneath his usual exasperation. "Get some rest, Fawn. Meet me for breakfast in the morning."

I nodded, and with one last warning glance at Nyx, he slipped out.

Silence settled.

Nyx didn't move from the door. He just looked at me, something unreadable in his expression.

Three days. Three days without him, and yet the pull between us was stronger than ever.

I let out a slow breath. "I missed you."

Nyx's smile was slow, knowing. He stepped closer, hands bracing on either side of the doorframe. "Yeah?"

My pulse fluttered. But I refused to look away. "Yeah."

Nyx hummed, gaze sweeping over me like he was committing me to memory.

"C'mere then." He gives me one of those signature smirks.

I let go of the grip I had on my dress as I approached him, suppressed smile on my face.

His eyes follow me, watching my every movement as I come closer but not making a move to cross the threshold of my bedroom.

I peer up at him through my lashes, blinking once, twice. Then, "I missed you too," He murmured, leaning down and sealing a gentle kiss to my aching lips.

I pulled away first, and immediately regretted it the moment his lips left mine.

But he moved away, and with a quiet, secretive grin, he murmured, "Come find me when you can't sleep."

And just like that, he was gone.

—

Sleep evaded me.

I had tried—tried curling into the soft sheets, tried counting my breaths, tried pretending the bond wasn't a tangible thing pulling me toward the other side of the hall. But it was no use. The awareness of him, of Nyx, was a whisper against my skin, a constant hum in my chest.

With a soft exhale, I pushed back the covers and slipped out of my room.

The halls were quiet, bathed in moonlight. The Day Court at night had a different kind of beauty—soft, glowing, endless. I made my way toward his room, heart hammering for reasons I wasn't ready to name.

Nyx must have sensed me before I even reached the door, because the moment I lifted my fist to knock, it swung open.

He stood there, leaning lazily against the frame, shirtless, like he had been waiting. His smirk was immediate. "Couldn't stay away, Princess?"

I rolled my eyes, brushing past him into the room and inviting myself in. "Don't flatter yourself."

His room was similar to mine, only slightly smaller, with the same open balcony letting in the cool night air. The scent of him—night-blooming jasmine, crisp wind, something uniquely Nyx—wrapped around me instantly.

I turned just as he shut the door, crossing his arms. "So, what's keeping you up? Me?" His grin was all arrogance.

I huffed. "The bond."

Nyx's eyes darkened slightly, but he still managed a chuckle. "I am the bond, sweetheart."

Heat bloomed in my chest, but I ignored it, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed with a casual grace. "We should talk about it."

Nyx arched a brow. "About how wildly in love with me you already are?"

I tossed a glare at him. He returned it with a laugh, his sapphire eyes somehow beckoning me closer. "Alright," he said, quieter this time. "Let's talk."

I swallowed, unsure where to begin. "Are we...accepting it while we're here?"

Nyx's expression turned thoughtful, something softer creeping into his gaze. He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I don't want to rush you," he said, voice low, steady. "But I also don't want to pretend it's not there."

I nodded slowly. That was the problem. The bond was there, a silent, unyielding thing, urging us closer. Ignoring it felt unnatural. But accepting it—fully—was irreversible. And rejecting it, for some reason, was out of the question.

Nyx must have sensed my hesitation because his lips twitched. "You know," he mused, a grin on his lips that could only mean trouble, "Lucien and Elain's rooms are at the opposite end of the hall."

I blinked, confused. "And?"

He smirked. "So if there are any... aftereffects of us accepting the bond, they won't hear a thing."

Heat flooded my face. "Nyx."

He grinned. "Just saying, if you're worried about keeping them up—"

"Nyx." I smacked his arm, and he just laughed, catching my wrist with ease.

With a soft tug, he pulled me forward until I was standing between his legs. My breath hitched as he peered up at me, his grip warm, steady.

"You're overthinking it," he murmured.

I bit my lip tentatively. "It's a lot to think about."

His hands slid up my arms, slow and careful, like he was mapping out the places he could touch, where I would let him. "Then don't think," he whispered. "Just...stay."

I hesitated.

Then, finally, I let out a breath and climbed onto the bed beside him.

Nyx shifted easily, stretching out against the pillows, one arm behind his head as he watched me settle in. "See? Not so bad."

I rolled onto my side, facing him. "Don't get used to this."

"Too late," he said, grinning.

A comfortable silence stretched between us, the weight of the bond settling into something warm, something oddly familiar.

Then—

"What if we did accept it?" I asked softly, tracing patterns into the sheets with a fingertip.

Nyx was quiet for a moment. When I glanced up, his gaze had softened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

"I think," he murmured, reaching over to brush his knuckles against my cheek, "it would feel like this."

"Like what?"

His thumb skimmed the corner of my mouth, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"Like something I don't ever want to stop."

A shiver ran through me, but I forced myself to scoff. "You're so dramatic."

He chuckled, his hand drifting away, but not before his fingers brushed against my wrist, lingering. "You love it."

I did. I really, really did.

Nyx was still watching me, his expression unreadable but utterly devastating. His fingers, still barely brushing against mine, curled slightly, testing.

I should have pulled away. Should have ignored the way the space between us felt unbearable, like a string stretched too tight, ready to snap.

Instead, I turned my hand over, letting our fingers fully intertwine.

Nyx inhaled sharply.

His other hand lifted, tracing the shape of my jaw before tilting my chin up ever so slightly. His touch was featherlight, like he was waiting for me to pull back, to stop this before it started.

I didn't. I couldn't.

His eyes darkened, and I barely had time to take a breath before his lips brushed against mine.

Soft, at first. A question. I answered by pressing closer, hand against his hard chest.

Nyx groaned, low in his throat, and then he was kissing me in earnest, his hand sliding to cup the back of my neck, pulling me flush against him.

Heat curled through me, my body igniting at the sheer rightness of it—of him. His lips moved against mine with slow, devastating precision, coaxing, deepening.

I gasped as his teeth grazed my lower lip, and he took the opportunity to press even closer, his tongue sweeping into my mouth in a way that had my fingers running up his nape and tangling in his hair, pulling, needing.

Nyx growled softly, his grip tightening, his body shifting so that I was beneath him now, the weight of him pressing into me in the most delicious way.

I should have stopped him. Should have reminded him that Lucien and Elain were likely eavesdropping, that this wasn't what we came here for.

But all I could do was gasp against his lips, drowning in him as he kissed me like he'd been waiting a lifetime to do so.

And maybe he had.

The tether between us hummed, alive, crackling like a storm ready to break. My entire body felt like it was on fire, burning for something I wasn't sure I was ready for—but gods, did I want it.

Nyx pulled away just enough to press his forehead against mine, his breaths ragged, uneven. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, his lips barely brushing against mine. "Tell me to stop, and I will."

I didn't say anything.

Because I didn't want him to stop.

Instead, I tightened my grip in his hair and kissed him again.

Nyx practically purred, deepening the kiss instantly, his hands sliding down my sides, gripping my waist like he was trying to anchor himself. I whimpered as he tilted my head back, his lips tracing a path along my jaw, down my throat—

I shuddered. "Nyx—"

He froze, his breathing heavy. "Too much?"

I hesitated, my mind hazy, body thrumming, aching. I didn't want to stop, didn't want this night to end—but I knew if we kept going, if I let him keep kissing me like this, there would be no turning back.

Slowly, I nodded.

Nyx let out a shaky breath, then pressed a lingering kiss to my shoulder before rolling onto his back, dragging me with him. His arm curled around my waist, keeping me tucked against his side.

I pressed my face into his chest, inhaling deeply. His heart was racing.

"Sleep, Princess," he murmured against my hair, pressing a final kiss to my forehead.

I exhaled softly, my body still humming, my lips still tingling, my heart still pounding.

But as Nyx's warmth surrounded me, as his arms tightened slightly around me, I found that—for the first time all night—I was finally at peace.

And sleep came easily.

The warmth of the Day Court sun streamed in through the open balcony doors, golden light spilling over the plush bedding and dancing across the smooth marble floors. A gentle breeze carried the scent of citrus and wildflowers, and the distant sound of birdsong filled the air—soft, melodic, impossibly peaceful.

I stretched beneath the silk sheets, the remnants of sleep clinging to my limbs. Nyx's steady breathing was warm against my neck, his arm a heavy weight draped over my waist. The bond hummed between us, quiet, content.

Carefully, I slipped from his grasp, his fingers twitching slightly in protest but aside from that he didn't stir.

I smiled to myself, watching as he burrowed further into the pillows that likely smelled of me, the golden light turning his midnight-dark hair almost copper in the morning glow.

For a male who spent so much time under the stars, he certainly slept through the hours of night like a log.

Shaking my head fondly, I padded across the room, stepping out into the hallway and making my way back to my own quarters across the hall.

The Day Court truly was beautiful in the morning—the soft glow of the sun filtering through sheer golden curtains, the air crisp and warm all at once. By the time I reached my room, I was fully awake, the peaceful hum of the court settling over me like a second skin.

I dressed in a white silk gown, the fabric flowing like liquid over my frame, cinched at the waist with a delicate golden belt. My jewelry was plentiful—thin, glimmering chains draped over my collarbones, golden cuffs sliding up my arms, rings adorning my fingers.

I had just finished fastening the final piece of jewelry when the door behind me creaked open.

I caught his reflection in the mirror before he could even enter.

Nyx stood in the doorway, his hair an absolute mess, his eyes heavy with sleep. He hadn't bothered with a shirt, his bare chest golden in the sunlight, the tattooed whorls of the night sky on his skin dark against the warm glow. He was beautiful—in that utterly devastating, ruinous kind of way.

He said nothing as he crossed the room, his steps slow, languid, his body still half-asleep.

Then his arms were sliding around my shoulders, his bare chest pressing against my back, his face tucking into the crook of my neck. His lips brushed against my skin—soft, lingering.

"Come back to bed," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

I smiled, meeting his gaze in the mirror as he sighed against my skin. "You are such a night owl."

One of his hands trailed up my arm, fingers ghosting over the golden cuffs there. "That's because I am Night," he grumbled. "It's unnatural for me to be awake this early."

I huffed a quiet laugh, reaching up to lace my fingers with his where they rested on my shoulder. "And yet, you're awake."

"I wouldn't be if you hadn't abandoned me." His lips brushed over my throat again, slow and deliberate, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I have breakfast with Lucien," I reminded him, though the words were already losing their strength.

Nyx hummed, as if considering coercing me out of that particular plan. His grip tightened slightly, his fingers curling around my waist as he exhaled against my skin. "Or," he suggested, his voice a low murmur, "you could stay."

I turned in his arms, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before pulling back just enough to murmur, "I'll be back soon."

Nyx sighed, dramatically, his hands tracing slow circles along my back. "You're cruel," he muttered.

I grinned, pressing another kiss to the corner of his mouth. "You'll live."

"Debatable."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could move, he kissed me again—slow, lazy, lingering. By the time he pulled away, I had half a mind to actually abandon breakfast.

But I forced myself to step back, smoothing my gown as I gave him a knowing look. "Go back to sleep, Night Prince."

Nyx smirked, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that was far too awake for someone who had been dead to the world only minutes ago. "You'll come find me after?"

I nodded. "I'll come find you after."

Seemingly satisfied, he took a slow step backward, his lips twitching. "Enjoy breakfast, princess," he said, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't miss me too much."

I barely resisted the urge to throw a pillow at him as I slipped out the door.

The Day Court's dining terrace overlooked a sprawling garden, the morning sunlight painting the marble floors in warm golds and soft whites. A faint citrus breeze carried through the open-air space, mingling with the scent of freshly baked bread, honeyed fruit, and roasted coffee.

Lucien was already seated at the table, a cup of tea in one hand, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"Good morning, Fawn," he greeted, setting his cup down as I slid into the chair across from him.

I sighed, reaching for a slice of peach from the array of food laid before us. "I knew I should have stayed in bed."

Lucien chuckled, reaching for his own plate. "You wound me. I would have thought you'd missed me."

"I did," I admitted, which earned me a pleased look. "But I also knew that my first morning here would be spent with you poking at me like a bored hound with a bone."

Lucien hummed, popping a grape into his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest. "You make it sound so terrible."

I gave him a dry look. "You live for gossip."

"And you have been supplying me with an endless amount of it," he countered, flashing a sharp grin. "You and the heir to the Night Court, sneaking around behind your father's back?" He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Do you know how much restraint it takes for me not to send a letter to Tamlin about this?"

I nearly choked on my tea. "You wouldn't."

Lucien's russet eye twinkled with mischief. "Wouldn't I?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, but there was no real threat in my stare. He was teasing—mostly. "You wouldn't because I'm your favorite."

Lucien let out a bark of laughter. "You think that's enough to keep me quiet?"

I plucked a croissant from the basket, tearing off a piece with deliberate slowness. "I also brought Nyx with me, which means Elain is getting a visit from her favorite nephew," I said sweetly. "And I doubt she'd be pleased if his visit was cut short by some ill-timed news reaching Spring."

Lucien raised a brow, amused. "Using my wife against me? Low blow."

"You leave me no choice."

He chuckled, shaking his head before taking a sip of his tea. "Fine, your secret is safe with me. For now."

I exhaled in relief, but he wasn't done.

"So," he continued, smirking, "do you always sneak into his bed, or was last night a special occasion?"

I set my croissant down with exaggerated care. "You are insufferable."

Lucien grinned, positively delighted. "Oh, come now. I'm merely curious."

I sighed, shaking my head. "And here I thought you wanted to talk about Spring."

Lucien's expression didn't shift, but I saw the flicker of something—wariness, perhaps, or exhaustion—pass through his russet eye before he settled back into that smooth, unbothered demeanor.

"You want to talk about Spring?" he mused, sipping at his tea. "Now that's a first."

I hesitated, fingers toying with the edge of my napkin. "It's been... stable?"

Lucien huffed a quiet laugh. "Stable is one word for it."

I lifted a brow, silently urging him to continue.

He sighed, swirling his tea in his cup. "Your father is as he always is. Withdrawn. Distrustful. Trying to mend what little he has left, though his attempts have been... half-hearted, at best." A pause, then a softer, "He does love you, you know. Don't take that for granted."

I looked down at my plate, a strange weight pressing against my ribs. "I know, I try not to. I love him too."

Lucien sighed, setting his cup down. "Well, that was depressing."

I let out a weak laugh, grateful for the shift in subject. "You brought it up."

"Yes, but now I regret it," he muttered before shooting me a sidelong glance, that familiar smirk returning. "Luckily, we have a much juicier topic to discuss."

I groaned. "Lucien—"

He ignored my warning tone, lips twitching. "How was sleeping with the Night Court's heir?"

"I hate you."

"Did you snuggle?" He grinned. "You did, didn't you?"

I picked up my spoon, debating throwing it at his head.

Lucien laughed, positively beaming. "Oh, this is delightful."

"You are the worst."

"I am," he agreed, unbothered. "But I'm also right."

I sighed, shaking my head. "I am never telling you anything ever again."

Lucien simply smiled, far too pleased with himself.

And somehow, despite his relentless teasing, breakfast was... nice. Easy, even.

Lucien had always been that way—quick-witted, sharp-tongued, but warm beneath it all. And for the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to enjoy that warmth, even as he smirked knowingly over the rim of his tea cup.

The soft pad of footsteps against marble had me glancing up just as Elain entered the terrace, sunlight catching in the golden waves of her hair. She was radiant in the morning glow, dressed in a pale yellow gown that complemented the warmth of her brown eyes.

Lucien's teasing stopped instantly.

His gaze softened, his entire being seeming to realign as he turned toward his mate. The smug amusement he had wielded so effortlessly moments ago melted into something quieter, something devotional, as if Elain were the only thing in existence.

"Good morning, my love," Lucien greeted, rising smoothly to pull out a chair for her.

Elain smiled at him, a soft, knowing thing, before placing a kiss on his cheek and settling into her seat. "Good morning," she replied before glancing at me, her expression warm. "I'm so happy you're here."

I smiled back, genuinely. "I'm happy to be here."

She took a sip of tea before asking, "What do you have planned for today?"

I glanced at Lucien, who was too busy staring at his mate to contribute to the conversation, then looked back at Elain with an amused huff. "That depends on what there is to do in the Day Court."

Elain brightened. "Oh, there's so much. The markets are always lovely in the mornings, and later today there will be a performance in the amphitheater—music, dance, sometimes storytelling, depending on the day. We could also visit the gardens."

At that, Lucien seemed to shake himself from his daze just long enough to say, "She loves the gardens."

Elain laughed softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "I do."

The moment their hands touched, Lucien's thumb traced small circles over her knuckles, his russet eye drinking her in as if he hadn't seen her in ages, as if she were the only thing tethering him to this world.

I looked away, feeling like an intruder on something sacred.

Instead, I focused on my tea, swirling it in my cup before Elain's next words had me stiffening.

"And what about you?" she asked gently. "What do you have planned with Nyx?"

Lucien tensed beside her at the mention of his nephew but, surprisingly, didn't interrupt.

I hesitated before answering. "I... don't know yet."

Elain tilted her head slightly, studying me. "You two seem happy."

A small, shy smile tugged at my lips despite myself. "It's... new."

Her expression softened. "New can be wonderful."

I glanced at Lucien then, at the way his entire world seemed to orbit Elain, at the ease with which they simply existed together.

They had a love that was constant, unshaken. One that didn't need to be loud or demanding, because it was felt—in the way Lucien always reached for Elain without thinking, in the way she always seemed to understand him without words.

I wanted that.

I wanted something sure. Something safe. Something like them.

Elain must have seen something in my expression, because she reached across the table, squeezing my hand. "You'll find your way," she assured me, voice as soft as the morning light.

I swallowed, nodding. "I hope so."

Breakfast ended not long after, Lucien and Elain caught in their own little world as I excused myself.

I walked back to my room slowly, heart and mind tangled in thoughts of what I wanted—of him.

And of whether or not we would ever have something like the love I had just witnessed.

I pushed open the door to my room, the silk of my gown whispering against the marble floor as I stepped inside. The first thing I noticed was the mess of dark hair sprawled across my pillows, the sheets tangled around long limbs and bare skin.

Nyx had crawled into bed. My bed.

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. "You do know you have your own room, right?"

A low, sleepy groan rumbled from the depths of my blankets, his face still buried in my pillow. "Too far," he mumbled.

I snorted. "It's across the hall."

"Exactly," he sighed dramatically, cracking one sleepy eye open. His voice was heavy with drowsiness, warm and lazy in a way that made something in my chest tighten. "Besides, your bed smells better."

I raised a brow. "That's not a compliment if you're just stealing."

He grinned, stretching like a cat before reaching a hand out for me. "Come here."

"Absolutely not."

His lips tilted into something smug. "Oh?"

"Nyx, it's nearly noon."

"So?" He patted the space beside him. "Come lay down."

I laughed, shaking my head as I stepped closer to the bed. "You are so lazy."

"Excuse me," he feigned offense, propping himself up on an elbow, hair a tousled mess. "I am strategic in my rest."

I huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed, but the moment I did, he was moving—strong arms wrapping around my waist as he pulled me down beside him.

"Nyx!" I yelped, but he only laughed, tucking his face into the crook of my neck.

"There we go," he murmured, his lips pressing against my skin in a way that was entirely unfair. "Much better."

I sighed, pretending to be put out even as I melted into the warmth of him. "You are impossible."

"You love it."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could retort, he pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my jaw. The argument died in my throat.

"You look beautiful," he murmured against my skin, his voice still thick with sleep. "Does every court suit you? Or are you just naturally perfect?"

A rush of heat curled in my chest. "Flattery will not get you out of trouble."

He hummed, brushing his nose along my cheek before stealing a kiss from my lips. "Five minutes," he mused, brushing another kiss over the corner of my mouth. "Just five and then we can get up."

"Fine. Five minutes." I lean into him, melting into the warmth that was his skin.

He kissed me again, slower this time as if savoring the remnants of whatever sweetness still lingered. "Lucien didn't give you a hard time, did he?"

I huffed a laugh, playing with the strands of dark hair at the nape of his neck. "Lucien is always a menace."

Nyx chuckled, his breath warm against my lips. "I bet he was insufferable."

"He was fine," I admitted, tracing a lazy pattern against his bare shoulder. "Elain joined us."

He tilted his head, brows lifting slightly. "Oh?"

I nodded. "She asked about you."

His lips curled. "And what did you say?"

"That you are insufferable, whiny, and prone to excessive dramatics."

Nyx gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Whiny?"

I grinned. "You are."

He narrowed his eyes playfully. "So harsh, princess."

I laughed, but the sound faded as he brushed his fingers over my cheek, his expression softening. "Did you sleep well?"

I hesitated before nodding. "I did."

"Good." He kissed me again, slow and sweet, his thumb brushing against my jaw. "I like waking up with you—even though you left me before I could."

Something inside me melted at the confession, at the sincerity in his voice.

I bit my lip, trying to fight back a smile. "You're so soft when you're sleepy."

He groaned, flopping onto his back. "And the moment is ruined."

I laughed, rolling onto my side to look down at him. "Come on, Nyx. Admit it."

His arm flung over his eyes. "Never."

I grinned, leaning down to press a teasing kiss against his jaw. "I like it."

His breath hitched slightly, but his arms wound around me again, pulling me closer.

And as I settled into the warmth of him, into the safety of his embrace, I realized—this, whatever we were becoming, whatever this bond between us was shaping into—felt new and foreign.

But gods, it was lovely.

After fifteen minutes Nyx still had me caged against him, his arms wrapped securely around my waist as if he had no intention of letting me leave. Every time I so much as shifted, his grip tightened, and a pleased hum rumbled in his throat.

"Nyx," I warned, pressing my hands against his bare chest, though my voice lacked any real heat.

"Mmm," he murmured lazily, nuzzling into the crook of my neck, his lips ghosting over my skin. "Five more minutes."

I huffed, though the way my body betrayed me—melting into his warmth, my fingers tracing the lines of his shoulders—was not helping my case. "You said that fifteen minutes ago."

"I don't recall."

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "You're impossible."

He lifted his head slightly, his messy dark hair falling into his sleepy eyes. "And yet, you're still here."

I scowled at him, but it was utterly ineffective given the way my face was burning.

His grin widened. "You like this."

"No, I don't."

Nyx hummed, unconvinced. "Sure you don't." Then, as if to prove his point, he kissed me—slow and indulgent, his lips warm and sure against mine. My breath caught, my fingers tightening against his skin.

His hands roamed lazily, tracing along my waist, my back, settling just beneath the curve of my ribs. "You're so soft," he mused between kisses, his voice dripping with that infuriating smugness. "So warm."

I glared at him, my face burning. "You're so full of yourself."

His chuckle was dark and teasing. "Only because you make it so easy, Princess."

I groaned, flopping onto my back as he propped himself up on an elbow, hovering over me with a stupidly satisfied expression. "You are so lucky left my daggers in Spring."

Nyx only grinned, dipping down to nip at my jaw, his voice warm with amusement. "I'd like to see you try."

I shoved at his shoulder, but he barely budged. His weight was solid and steady against me, and I knew—knew—that I could have pushed him away if I wanted to. But I didn't.

Nyx's fingers skimmed along my arm, down to my wrist, to where he laced our fingers together. "Are you going to stay here with me?"

"I have things to do, you know."

"Like what?" He raised a brow, his nose brushing against mine. "Surely nothing more interesting than me."

I snorted. "You'd be surprised."

He gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "Now that is just cruel."

I rolled my eyes, lifting a hand to comb through his messy hair, smoothing it back. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, and my heart did something ridiculous in my chest.

I swallowed, brushing my thumb over his cheekbone. "You're so clingy."

His eyes opened, a lazy smirk curling his lips. "And you love it."

I huffed, but my lips twitched despite myself. "Maybe a little."

Nyx's expression softened, his fingers brushing my cheek as he leaned in. "Good."

His mouth pressed against mine again, stealing whatever breath I had left. My heart raced, my fingers fisting in the fabric of the sheets as his hand traced down, over the silk of my gown, teasing along my thigh. His touch burned—not in a way that made me want to pull away, but in a way that made me want more.

And that should have terrified me. It didn't.

It only made me want to hold onto him tighter, to let myself fall.

I exhaled shakily when he finally pulled away, his lips brushing the corner of my mouth. He was still watching me, waiting.

And gods, I knew. I knew.

The mating bond shimmered between us, pulsing, undeniable. I could feel it, pulling me closer to him with every breath, every heartbeat.

I wanted it.

Screw that our parents didn't know. Screw that this would be irreversible. That once we accepted it, there was no undoing it, no way for them to separate us even if they tried.

I wanted this. I wanted him.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn't afraid of what that meant.

"Nyx?"

"Princess?" he drawled, his voice thick with warmth, teasing as he brushed his fingers over my wrist.

I hesitated for a moment before saying, "Can you teach me how to block you out of my head?"

Nyx's lips twitched. "You mean my Daemati powers?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He hummed in thought, tilting his head. "Of course. Though, why the sudden interest?"

I kept my expression carefully neutral, knowing full well he'd see right through me if I wasn't careful. "Just seems like a good skill to have."

Nyx studied me for a long moment before his lips curved in amusement. "You're a terrible liar."

I scowled. "Am not."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to my temple. "Alright, alright. Come here."

I let him shift us so I was sitting cross-legged in front of him, his hands resting lightly on my knees. His gaze softened, the usual teasing glint dimming just slightly as he said, "I want you to imagine a wall in your mind. Something strong. Something unbreakable."

"A wall," I repeated, frowning.

"Yes. Picture it. And then focus on reinforcing it. Make it thick, make it impenetrable." His thumb traced circles against my knee as he watched me carefully.

I closed my eyes, inhaling slowly as I tried to summon that wall.

"Good," he murmured. "Now, I'm going to push just a little—try not to let me in."

I gritted my teeth as I felt the gentle probing at the edges of my mind. It was strange—like a featherlight touch, testing the defenses I'd barely managed to put up.

"Your wall is shaky," Nyx noted, the laughter in his voice evident. "I could break through it in an instant."

I cracked an eye open to glare at him. "You're so encouraging."

He grinned. "I'm just being honest."

I huffed, closing my eyes again and focusing, really focusing, on that barrier. I imagined thick, towering walls, impenetrable and unwavering. I strengthened them, bracing them against his presence.

Nyx hummed in approval. "Better."

A moment passed.

Then another.

And then—

"Huh," he muttered.

I opened my eyes to find him blinking at me, mildly impressed. "What?"

"You actually did it." He tapped his temple. "Can't hear a thing."

I grinned, triumphant. "Told you I could do it."

Nyx chuckled, his hands sliding up to my waist as he pulled me toward him. "I could still break it." He makes clear. "But now I can't hear em' unless I want to."

I smiled softly, "Good enough for me."

Then he kissed me.

Slow and deep, as if savoring the taste of victory along with me. His hands traced up my spine, his touch warm and steady as he pressed me closer. I melted into him, tilting my head to give him better access as his lips moved against mine with aching patience.

It was a reward, and I greedily took it.

When we finally parted, his lips trailed down my jaw, over the sensitive skin of my neck. "I should teach you things more often," he murmured against my skin, the words sending a shiver down my spine.

I swatted at his shoulder, but it was weak at best. "Behave."

He laughed, the sound muffled against my throat as he kissed a slow path back up to my mouth. "Not a chance."

I sighed, allowing myself to collapse onto the mattress, tugging him down with me. Nyx followed willingly, draping himself over me as if he had no intention of moving anytime soon.

"So," he mused, his lips brushing my shoulder, my collarbone, my jaw. "What do you want to do today?"

We eventually collapsed back onto the bed, tangled together. His hands roamed lazily, his lips finding every inch of bare skin he could reach. Between kisses, we murmured about what we could do today—halfheartedly listing off places we knew we wouldn't go, tasks we knew we wouldn't complete.

"We could go for a ride?" I suggested idly.

Nyx hummed, lips brushing my collarbone. "Mmm, sounds nice." His fingers traced circles on my hip. "Or we could stay right here."

"Lazy," I teased, though I had no intention of moving either.

He nipped at my shoulder in retaliation, making me squeak. "Not lazy," he corrected. "Just—" He kissed the corner of my mouth. "Comfortable." Another kiss on my cheek. "Perfectly, completely comfortable."

My heart thudded, my fingers tightening around his bicep. I could still feel the bond shimmering between us, waiting.

Waiting for me. Because he seemed to have already decided that accepting it was his only choice, the only one he'd acknowledge at least.

Nyx pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his expression soft, but unreadable. "What?" he murmured.

I swallowed hard, smoothing my hand over his chest. "Nothing," I whispered.

Not yet.

He searched my face, but I knew he wouldn't find anything—not now. Because I had learned how to block him out. Because the next time I opened my mind to him, it would be on my terms. A choice. A gift.

Nyx pressed one last kiss to my lips before sighing, letting his head drop against the pillow. I curled into his warmth, letting my eyes drift shut, a secret burning in my chest.

The next time I let him in would be when I was ready to accept the bond. And I wanted it to be somewhat of a surprise.

Which meant he had to stay out of my mind—just for a few days. Just long enough for me to do what I had already decided.

What I knew I wanted.

I glanced at him then, at the male who had stolen my heart in the span of a few weeks, at the way he watched me with that easy, knowing smirk—completely unaware of what was coming.

A slow smile curled on my lips.

What I wanted.

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writingsfromhome · 2 months ago

Text

That’s so True II

A/N: pure angst; egos are still up, feelings are still confused, guards are up and down and even though it seems like I hate them as the writer I do root for them but navigating one-sided vulnerability is a rideee. Mentions of alcohol and drugs—thanks for reading xx

Word Count: 18k+

Part 1 / 2

———————————————————

I made it out alive but I think I lost it.

When Harry approached me after school when I was working on yearbook, I was surprised. He came just as himself and even though he tried to act like a dick, that personality was chucked out as soon as I told him I wasn’t putting up with it.

And he listened. And he looked surprised, but most surprising for me was when he apologized back. It obviously surprised him too because that’s also when his mask came back down; I saw it happening—backtracking so he could put a leash on his vulnerability.

There was no denying though as he was apologizing, the look in his eyes and the way his gaze lingered on my face…I knew he was holding back. That night and our time together left just as much of an imprint on him than it did me.

The thing is I wanted to punish him, make him hurt, because how dare he do that to me. If he wanted to deny what really happened between us and move on, continue being the jock everyone knew him to be, I’d let it sting.

I know he expected me to be upset, maybe even argue. But as soon as I realized what he was doing I put my own mask on; I was good at it these days. And there was a satisfaction with how shocked he looked as he walked out without the upper hand.

That’s his price, I had thought.

But now here I was on the other side of my Harry Experience and my heart still kicked a little extra when I caught sight of him. When I pass him in the halls, in the lunchroom, in the parking lot, and I could feel his eyes on me.

I could just get a boyfriend if it was a physical need. But it wasn’t that simple.

Sometimes before I fall asleep I think of that night, of the pain he felt on my behalf. And it hits deeper.

Past:

Harry had caught up to me as I was leaving the school building today. He had asked if I was busy tonight and my heart had sputtered like a dying car because we had been hooking up for a couple weeks and every time we did I expected it to be the last time yet he always found ways to be at the same place I was or catch me wherever I was.

He had been a distraction for me from everything at home and I never expected us to have longevity.

He told me he would pick me up around 7 for a surprise. I’d gone home in a cloud of rainbows and butterflies but home itself was an antidote to daydreaming.

Mum was home early from work so I head to my bedroom. I didn’t care for forced conversation. All she wanted to talk about these days was my future.

By the time I come down the sun is starting to set and I can hear her on the phone with Nan. She’s telling Nan she doesn’t know if she can help her clean out the house and that my dad didn’t want anything to do with it.

Nan was actually my paternal grandma and her and Grandpa had raised me while my dad lived in a new city every few months for work and mum followed. They’d be sure to be in town for Christmas most years and during off-seasons but when I thought of the people who raised me it wasn’t mum and dad.

Dad always had a complicated relationship with his own father so even though they happily took me in and it looked okay from the outside, every family reunion or dinner was tense and passive.

When grandpa passed a few weeks ago it was Nan and I who held each other up. Mum had tried to be there but she never knew what to say to me. Dad had gotten stony and silent. So now I just walked the few streets over to visit Nan every time I missed him too much.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to mum as she continues on the phone. Were they cleaning grandpa’s stuff out already? It hadn’t been long.

Suddenly I start to worry about all of his valuables, everything he held dear all in the bin. Of Nan trying to sort it all by herself and being overwhelmed—I could help.

Mum waves me off, “Well we’ll see. We can always hire someone. I’m sure Phil will pay for it.”

“I called asking for help with this not to have money I don’t need thrown my way.” Her voice is distant on the receiver but mum’s volume is always so loud I can make it out. Nan only ever took dad’s money if it had to do with me. “I need to do this myself not hire somebody. I-this is making me upset. I’m hanging up now.”

She hangs up without a goodbye and mum rolls her eyes.

“Somehow I’m always between the two of them.”

I watch her move back to her cutting board and stare as she chops. If there was any humour here I would laugh but it always got to me when she’d say things like that. Because it was always me between the two—my actual family and my family that raised me. My loyalty to my grandparents for all the love and time they raised me with and my loyalty to my parents because…well, they were my parents.

“What did she want?” I ask eventually.

“Someone to help her pack up the house. And she’s asking us to hold some of her things as storage I mean-“ she throws her hands up.

“Why?” Nan had plenty of space at home, why did she need ours?

“Well whoever rents that place probably doesn’t want all her rubbish everywhere.”

Rents.

“Who’s renting? What do you mean?”

Mum looks up sharply and sighs when she sees my face. “Oh dear. Did Nan or your dad not tell you yet?”

“Tell me what!?” I demand, my heart racing and my knees feeling like they were made of straw.

“Sit down-“ she points to a stool. I do so grudgingly. “Your Nan��she’s going to be moving-“

“No. She can’t be she would have said-“

“Well she just made the final decision the other day-“

I’m snatching my jacket and racing out the front door, down the street, pumping my arms until I’m in front of the familiar door. The place that my memories went to when I thought of home.

My breath is having a hard time coming out and my hands shake so I knock until Nan opens the door. One look at me and the sadness pools in her eyes.

“Oh my love I’m sorry.”

“No Nan,” I burst into tears. “Tell me it’s not true! Mum’s lying!”

“C’mon,” she mumbles as she urges me into the house. My feet shuffle to the cozy wooden kitchen and I collapse in the closest chair because her non-answer was already an answer. I knew it in my bones.

“Why?” I ask when I see her again.

She sits beside me, her eyes full of tears. “I didn’t want you finding out like this. I-I’m making your favourite, we were going to have dinner and I was going to-“

Her breath catches and suddenly I feel awful for making her feel bad.

“Nan,” I hold her hand and she clasps it with her other.

“I’m sorry my love. It’s…this house is filled with his ghost. I don’t know how to…”

I find I’m crying too. But what about me, I want to ask. But even I know that’s selfish.

“Before he…when he was in hospital he made a plan for me. He talked to my sister—you’ve met her a few times I think. She lives alone, been a widow for…6 years now? He made all these plans so I can live with her. And she’s made it happen. For as long as I need, she tells me.”

“So you’re just-“ I use my other hand to wipe my tears. “So you’re just going to pick up your life and move? So far away? I-“

What about me?

“I can’t live here-“

“Move in with us!” I urge. Why didn’t grandpa make plans for her to move a few streets over. Why did he do this.

“YN, my dear…” she pats my hand. I know she couldn’t. I knew.

“I’ll never see you again?” I cry.

“Don’t be silly,” she stands and tugs me to her. I wrap my arms around her aging torso, my head on her chest, and it’s so overwhelmingly home that I begin to cry. And with the patience she’s had her whole life she rubs my back and soothes me with promises.

“You’re moving for uni this year—everything’s going to be different. And Phil’s already bought tickets for you to come visit me in the summer. We’ll always be in each other’s lives.”

But not physically. And suddenly I’m angry—what was dad’s issue that he couldn’t stand his parents. That his own mother couldn’t move in with us at a time like this. Why would Nan do this to me.

I let go of Nan and stand up.

“Where are you going?” She calls out as I head for the door. “YN where-“

“I have to go.” I sniffle.

“But I’m making dinner-“

“I have plans.” I say and it hurts just to say it and hurts more to see her face fall.

“Oh…well maybe tomorrow. Come by tomorrow and we can talk okay?”

I shrug and this time I don’t look at her face; a coward who couldn’t see what it does to her. “Maybe.”

“I love you,” she says as I near the door. “No matter what.”

I mumble something in response and leave. But I don’t want to go home. Luckily my phone pings then. Harry.

Outside yours, are you ready?

Crap. I’d forgotten.

At my Nan’s few streets away gimme 2 mins

I feel like my feet are made of steel as I walk over. I try to wipe my face and take deep breaths, anything to prevent him from seeing the mess tonight has made me.

“Aren’t you cold?” Is the first thing he asks me when I knock on his passenger door.

I forgot I was only wearing a jumper.

“A bit. M I must have forgotten my coat at Nan’s.” I sit inside where it is considerably warmer.

“You didn’t have to rush,” he watches me tuck myself in. “I texted you that.”

“Oh,” I check my phone. He had said that, I just missed it. “That’s alright. Where to?”

His eyes light up, now distracted from what he was just worried about. “You’ll have to see.”

“Patience is not my virtue,” I warn him and that earns a grin. His whole face was quite animated when he smiled like that and my stomach flips. Tonight still heavy on my mind, could be eclipsed by a smile like that. A smile for me.

He turns off my street and even though I was curious I’m not watching where we’re going. Instead I’m watching him.

I really was surprised he kept turning up. That he hadn’t grown tired of me.

That first night I approached him in desperate need of a distraction—of a boy and some booze, I could tell he was surprised but he’d risen to the occasion and made himself a perfect distraction.

And then a few nights later we’d made out in his car after school in the parking lot. We did that a few times actually. And the weekend after he’d been at a party I was at and we’d found an empty room. He was obviously more experienced and it made it both new and fun.

He catches me watching him and responds by sliding his hand over my thigh. I was wearing tights but the warmth of his delicious hands go straight through the fabric. His thumb strokes absentmindedly as he drives and I feel like more than a hook-up and he feels like more than a distraction but I discard the thoughts from my mind.

I didn’t want to make things messy. Messier than what my life already was.

“So you’re really giving me no clues?” I ask.

“Nope.”

“I’m surprised you’ve actually planned something. I thought you wouldn’t be a planner.”

He squeezes my thigh and laughs. “I like it when people think they figured me out and then they’re surprised.”

“Yeah?” I ask. I wondered if that happened often with him being the stereotype of a player.

“Yeah. It’s fun. Seeing people surprised. Like when our biology teacher last year congratulated me for getting the highest grade in one of the exams—I’d studied for a week straight so I earned that shit, but the looks on everyone’s faces was crazy.”

I laugh. It’s cute hearing him explain this. Ironically it was also surprising.

“Okay look,” he turns into a lot and I suddenly know where we were. But I’m confused.

“A beach?” I ask. “Harry you know it’s still February and it’s cold as bollocks.”

That makes him laugh. “Yeah? But I’ve got blankets and some wine I stole from my parents and we can keep each other warm.”

He brushes my cheek with his thumb as he says so. It’s gentle and inviting—I never thought someone like him would have these sides to him. I assumed wrongfully that players like him just seduce but Harry’s seducing had a finer art.

Suddenly I remember, “I forgot my coat.”

“Yeah you can wear mine!”

“No then you’ll be cold.”

He tried to reassure me it would be fine but in that moment all the feelings that had just been distracted come forth. If I had just gotten my coat I wouldn’t have to borrow his. Now all this Harry planned for us would go to shit.

“Here,” he starts stripping his coat off when I don’t respond and drapes it around me. “I’ve got a hoodie on and a couple blankets back there it can work.”

“I…” the coat is big and warm, trapped with the smell of him and it makes me lose my train of thought for a moment. I want to grow smaller and just live in this coat and forget all my problems like my thoughts.

“Let’s just see how bad it is out there.” He says with his easygoing smile.

“Okay,” I didn’t want to be a spoil sport. “Let’s see if you brought me out here to freeze to death or not.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he says as we exit the car. “We’re going to keep each other warm.”

“Harry this is quite romantic,” I tease as he walks around to get to me. “Honestly didn’t know you had this side to you.”

He leans me into the car, his cold hands curling around my neck. “Stop underestimating me YN. Plus I could say the same about you.”

Before I can ask what he means he leans down to kiss me with his soft lips and stubbly chin. It tickles and I pull away.

When I rub my hand over it he laughs, a low and dangerous thing that makes my stomach churn like the waves. “Sorry. I didn’t get time…”

“It just tickles.” I smile. Then remember, “What did you mean just now? About me?”

He ignores me again, ducking into the backseat for a literal basket. I wonder how many girls had seen the same basket before, been on this very same date. It wasn’t my right to feel this grip of possessiveness and I try to shake it off.

“C’mon,” he holds his hand out and when I take it he shoves both into the pocket of his hoodie. He was cold.

“Are you sure-“

“When I-“

We both stop, laugh.

“You first,” I say.

“Uh, I was just saying I’ve known you for years and you’re always the smart no-nonsense one. Never thought you’d spare me a second glance unless it was to judge me-“

“Hey I’m not judgy“

“You’ve never judged me?” He raises a brow.

“Well maybe once or twice. Usually because you were being very obnoxious-“

“Exactly,” he laughs. “I didn’t expect you to come up to me and be interested.”

“Well…” I try to come up with something to say but that wave of emotions threatens to overtake me again. Push, push it away.

“Well?”

We pause some feet away from the waves. At this point even I’m starting to feel a chill and I worry Harry’s freezing.

“Well I was intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” he repeats with humour. “Wanted to know what the fuss was about?”

“I wanted to know,” I turn to him and extract my hand from his so I can wrap them behind him. “If the rumours were true. And I can say they made you out to be more of a fuckboy than you are.”

“What?” His body stiffens slightly.

“Yeah you’re kinda sweet.”

He shakes his head, “YN I thought you were smart!”

“What!” I laugh. “I can’t help but point out what I see-“

“Ah but,” he lays a finger on my lips to shush me and they’re frozen. I try to say something about how cold he must be but he stops me. “Ah ah. No. What you observe is an act YN. I thought you would see I’m just trying to get into your-“

“But,” I shush him this time by putting my finger to his lips and an excuse to draw closer to him to lend my warmth.

“No I-“

“Ah ah!” I pinch his lips closed with my hand accidentally giving him duck lips and it takes him by surprise; he jerks back and neatly topples over. Which of course gets me laughing.

“Jesus YN!” He laughs on the floor.

“Why did you fall over!” I try to pull him up but he yanks me down as I expected. “Shit it’s chilly. Aren’t you cold?!”

“Not anymore,” he wraps a hand around my waist and I can’t deny laying on top of him like this makes me forget the cold.

“See,” I tsk. “I see right through you.”

That sobers his smile and mine fades with it. Did I say something wrong.

“It really is chilly though,” I quickly change the subject. It’s not graceful but I manage to stand up on my own and so does Harry, a shiver going through him. “See!”

“No that’s just,” he wraps his arms around himself. “Being around you.”

I groan. “Cheesy. I’m sorry here-“ I try to take the jacket off to hand him but he refuses, picking up the basket that he’d dropped to the ground.

“Keep it on. Let’s have a car picnic.”

“Yes!” The guilt lessens a bit. “Okay! Let’s do that.”

He smiles at me and extends a hand, I grip it and try to heat it up by shoving it up his larger sleeves.

“That works,” he laughs.

He opens the backseat so I slide in without a second thought. When it’s a bit cramped he moves the driver and passenger seats forward and it gives us a comfortable amount of space.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize again. “I wish I brought my jacket this really was all very nice-“

“Stop,” he says. He begins pulling out wine and perfectly wrapped sandwiches. It’s adorable but I say nothing lest it bruise his masculinity again. “It was lame I knew how cold it was.”

“Are we drinking from the bottle?” I point out.

“Ah damn,” he swears. “I forgot glasses.”

“That’s alright!” I take it from his hand and begin opening it. “Free wine I’ll take it! My parents are really anal so I could never steal liquor and have them not notice.”

“So that’s where you get it from,” he teases.

“Get what?!”

“The,” he waves his hand around me. I take a swig now that I’ve gotten it open and raise my brows. “Y’know! You’re very particular. I imagine you’d be like that as a parent.”

My heart does a weird stuttering thing hearing his opinion of me as a parent.

“Nevermind,” he takes my silence as offence and accepts the bottle. He makes a face once he takes a swig. “This is disgusting. I can’t drink this.”

“Not more disgusting than that beer you drank at last weekend’s party.”

“It was the best thing there.”

“It was the only thing,” I say. “But you should be careful since you’re driving. Wine gets you drunk a lot faster.”

“See,” he hands the bottle back to me. “This sort of thing.”

“Being responsible?”

I feel a small leak of self-consciousness drip in. And with it the leak expands with other emotions I’d shoved down tonight. I blink it back with another swig—the plan would be to get drunk and forget the evening happened.

“Kinda. Like just being sharp.”

It soothes a little. Sharp was better than being called responsible at age 17. Jeez.

I take another swig before we split sandwiches and talk about school. We talk music and movies, about graduation. I try not to look surprised at his grad plans while he’a not surprised at all by mine.

But talking about it all plus the wine, it sinks me deeper into my feelings. How the home I would leave would be something I could never come back to. Nan would never be a few streets away ever again.

“Is it just me or is it getting cold in here now too?” He asks. By now I’d given him his jacket back and I was wrapped in a blanket with half a bottle of wine in me. But even that didn’t hold the cold at bay.

“Yeah, I was trying to ignore it.”

“Soo you can stay here with me?”

“I-“ I go to flirt back. But staying here meant I wouldn’t have to go back home and remembering home reminds me of the reality of my life.

“YN?” He asks with a scrunch to his brows.

“Hm?” I don’t look at him. “Sorry. Yeah?”

“Uh I was just saying…” he deposits the half empty bottle that I’d basically drunk alone into the front console. This whole time we’d gotten closer to the other, his hand resting on my thigh as we talked. But now with nothing between us he inches to close the gap. “We could keep each other warm.”

He tucks my hair behind my ear and I smile into his face. It’s an open book telling his desires for tonight. I cup his cheek, he was sweet.

He kisses me and the gnawing feelings in my chest snaps. In seconds I’m climbing over him, straddling his lap as he responds, his fingers dig into my thighs and the sounds coming from his throat only urges me to get closer.

“Woah,” he chuckles when we break for air. And a part of me flushes but I’m too drunk to care.

I lean in again, my lips on his neck. His breath hitches and I smile against his skin.

His hands travel everywhere. My thighs, hips, and stomach. They slide up the front of my shirt and I gasp at the cold.

“We really need to warm those up,” I whisper.

He looks like he wants to make a joke but I press our lips together before he can. His fingers continue inching up, brushing under the band of my bra. I want him to go faster, I want him to lay me bare and make me forget. Get this fucking noise out of my head and these feelings out of my body.

I can tell he’s turned on but he’s not moving fast enough for me. I roll my hips into him and just like I needed him to he reacts, a short gasp and his eyes shut as he swears.

I do it again and he leans forward, pulling the neckline of my sweater over my head. His lips find the crook of my neck and shoulder, doing the thing that always unravels me.

He worships whatever part of me his lips can reach with one hand firmly on my neck keeping me close.

“You’re insane,” he mumbles against me. “Sometimes I-“

He shakes himself out of his monologue because his hands are trying to unbuckle his jeans. And in the split moment we’re apart the chill in the car settles against my bare shoulders and it’s like reality settles with it. Like a blanket I kept trying to shed.

Suddenly I’m overwhelmed. When he pulls me back to him to lay me down I push against his shoulders, dismounting.

“YN?” I don’t look at him but I know he’s got his brows scrunched together in confusion. I myself was confused. Claustrophobic and confused.

The only option is to rush outside trying to escape the feeling. It was fucking crazy—me in a bra and jeans but I have to get away from him before he sees me unravel. Before everything I’ve been pushing down surfaces.

“YN!” He shouts as I leave his car. Then a third time. I can hear the panic creep into his voice.

My head swims, the world spins around me. I want to lay here and let the cold creep in, let the waves lap over me until they’ve drowned me. Or maybe the waves inside of me make me feel like I’m drowning.

The first sob breaks through. Oh god, what was I doing.

I press my hands into my face and cry with a force so strong it feels like my chest has cracked in half. I cry for my Nan leaving, for grandpa and everything he suffered, for those he left behind, for my father and the relationship he’s never kept. I cry for me. I want to give it all to the water but it keeps coming out of me.

“Fucking hell YN!” Harry’s finally caught up to me. “What-what’s going on? Are you-“

As soon as his hand touches my shoulder I crash into his chest, maybe too hard, but he holds me up as he stays upright. And suddenly I’m cold as shit and I can’t stop shivering and crying and I feel fucking ridiculous.

Way to go, couldn’t have had a sexier moment.

He doesn’t say a word but wraps the jacket he brought with him around my shoulders. It’s heavy and smells like him, and surrounded in it again my system seems to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” I say into his chest.

“No I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out-“

“Wasn’t you.” I say but I can’t even look up at him. This was way too embarrassing. I know I looked a mess.

“Let’s just get back into the…”

I follow him. He tucks me back into the backseat and crawls in behind me.

“Talk to me,” he says, scratching the back of his head. “Did I do something?”

“No.” I wipe my face. He somehow finds a kleenex and hands it to me. I wipe myself down before speaking again but he’s patient. “Sorry. I just have a lot going on at home and it all just…”

When I don’t finish he shifts closer. I look up at him and I’m surprised at what I see. His mouth is turned down and there’s a crease between his brows, but his eyes watch me like I was a fragile puzzle he wanted to figure out. I was expecting him to look at me with fear or disgust but there’s none of it.

Oh god, it hits me in the wrong place. I pitch forward and he catches me against his chest as I cry some more. Somehow there were always more tears.

He rubs my back. “Hey talk to me, I know we’re not…you can talk to me.”

I shake my head. “It-it’s too much. I can’t talk about it.”

“Why not?”

I sigh, lean back, try to discreetly wipe my nose but there’s nothing discreet in this intimate space Harry’s created. More intimate than when we were making out. His eyes are burning into me waiting for me to give him the key to help him unlock all of this.

But how do I tell him I didn’t have the key myself. That I was just sad and I didn’t know what to do with all of it.

“My family…there’s just a lot going on. My Nan’s moving away and just…a lot of changes. I can’t talk about it-“

“Then how do I make you feel better?”

I’ve got to stop being so surprised but I genuinely never thought those kinds of words would ever come out of Harry’s mouth. We were hooking up and yet he wanted to help me—he wanted me to talk.

“You can’t.”

“I believe I can,” he insists.

“I’m just…you don’t have to.”

“I know,” he lifts my chin and wipes the tears away. “Just tell me what you need. I’m here.”

“I just need…” I look at him. Study the soft curls sitting atop the angular cheeks and the steady curious eyes. His wonderful face on his intoxicating throat on his beautiful body. “You.”

He blinks. “Really?”

“Please?” I reach for him with tears in my eyes but he’s already there. This time he lays me down gently and even though it’s an awkward fit by the time he’s peeling layer after layer off of us the place doesn’t matter. Just that he’s here, he sees me hurting, and he’s doing whatever this was to help me feel better.

I close my eyes and make myself be present in my body, feel his taut arms and his shoulders, the softness of his lips and how it feels when he moves against me. When he caresses me and holds me like a flame against a draft, careful but cherishing.

And later, we maneuver ourselves so that we lay together. My body is mostly draped over his and the blanket he brought lays over both of us. And normally I would think of how many other girls this blanket has seen but I feel too serene. I feel tucked in and protected in his arms.

“You’re amazing,” he whispers. He kisses the top of my head. “And you never back down from a challenge. I’ve seen you be the smartest at our school, work your arse off every year. You’re gonna have such an amazing life after you head off to uni. You’re hurting right now but life will change for you.”

His words take mine away. I don’t know who this sensitive and sweet boy is who’s holding me together. As a few tears escape my eyes and down my cheeks he kisses them away.

“Salty,” he laughs.

“Probably good for all the sweetness right here,” I tap at his chest. He swallows and the look in his eyes tell me a story that scares me.

“My parents must have done something right—this is just being decent YN.”

“Mmm,” I kiss him. “You tell yourself that.”

“Is that a smile?” He asks. And it is, I’m smiling at him. “It’s a smile! Look at that. My car won’t even need the headlights on the drive home.”

“Stop,” I cover my mouth.

“No you stop,” he tugs my hand away and kisses my smile which ends in a clash of teeth but I don’t care.

And then suddenly I do. Because I feel something. Something endless and scary and exhilarating; the feeling of falling.

Don’t do this, I urge my heart. He’s not the kind of guy you fall for. That was the first rule in hooking up with him. This was just fun.

But I can’t deny this stopped being fun the moment he led me back to the car. The moment he tried to fix me.

“Maybe we should get home,” I say casually. “I sort of left everyone high and dry. I don’t want them to worry where I’m at.”

“Oh yeah I-shit! It’s already 10?”

“What!?” I look at his watch. I was surprised my parents hadn’t called wondering where I was. I’d missed dinner. Both dinners.

“Okay wait here.” He pulls on his clothes and leaves me some privacy as he begins adjusting the seats upfront from outside. The cold air gives me goosebumps but in that moment the only thing that was scaring me was this smile that wouldn’t leave my face and the inevitable heartbreak of falling for Harry.

But it felt so real. He felt so real.

But he’s not. He’s not even your boyfriend. He just felt bad and he was decent enough not to drive you straight home.

Suddenly my heart and my head clash and despite his reassuring hand on my thigh and his lingering kiss goodnight I walk to my door with a whole new problem on my plate. A problem that scares me more than I realized.

Present:

I guess Harry’s capacity for kindness also equalled in his cruelness because he had made sure his actions hurt me in the last few weeks. Until I took it into my own hands.

I can’t help but think though, whether either of us even won?

“Well have you thought how that arrangement’s gonna go?” Rhia asks.

Rhia was my bestest friend and we’d known each other since we were kids. She was there at my highest highs and lowest lows and today we sit at lunch and discuss uni. Now that her acceptance letter’s come in for her dream uni, for the first time in our lives we’d be so far apart it wouldn’t be a bike ride over. It would be a couple trains at least.

“Obviously we see each other during the holidays,” I count off on my hand. “And then we have to make summer plans-“

“Who’s making summer plans.” Our other friend Juni joins us. “I miss summer. I miss spring. I miss the sun.”

“It’s right around the corner.” I reassure her. It had been a particularly gloomy winter—especially for me.

“Well I’m mad about it now. Look, I even dressed in florals to feel something.”

“Florals? For spring?” Rhi and I say in unison. By the time we finish the quote from one of our favourite movies Juni’s joined in.

“Woah,” someone calls from the table beside us. “Are you lot auditioning for something?”

My friends roll their eyes. I look amused but the fact that it’s Harry asking trying to be friendly makes my stomach curdle.

“Jeez babe you’re actually gonna put a curse on him if you keep staring like that.” Juni lays a hand on me. “I thought things were civil.”

“They are,” I huff. “We had a civil talk. Nobody’s mad at each other.”

“Lie,” Juni says and I can feel her make eyes at Rhia.

“Shut up I’m not mad. I’m just…I dunno. Confused. Annoyed at myself?”

“I thought you set him straight. Played the player,” Juni whispers. Rhia kisses her teeth. “Sorry!”

“I did. It felt good. And now it doesn’t.”

“Was he that good…y’know?” Juni eyes Harry at the table beside us.

“Shut up!” I shove Juni. “He was just surprisingly nice. I thought he’d be a fuckboy about everything but aside from his past I didn’t get those vibes at all. And then he kept…” I sigh. I wasn’t going to get caught in this vicious cycle.

“From what I heard,” Rhia whispers. “He usually is like that though. Sleeps with a rotation of girls and never more than twice in a row. And he never hangs out with them inside school and he never makes things official and…”

She trails off as Juni and I stare at her. She flushes.

“Someone’s been keeping an ear for the goss,” Juni teases.

“What!?” She glares. “After YN I just tried to gather intel. To help. He broke his pattern with her. I was surprised myself every time he found her at a party and she ditched us-“

“Hey I thought you were cool with that.” I say.

“I am!” She shakes her head. “I didn’t mean it like that! I’m glad you got your distraction. But now it just feels like he was more than he was worth.

“Like now you need a distraction from your distraction.” Juni nods.

“Tell me about it.” I grumble. I pop another carrot stick in my mouth and as I chew Harry turns his head and we catch eyes. He does a head nod and I flash a quick smile before moving my attention away.

I wonder if his heart races as much as mine. Probably not.

“Guys I think I do need a new distraction.” I announce.

“Ooh,” Rhia and Juni leans in.

“Someone who doesn’t go to this school though. I really want to keep it apart from my day to day life. And it’ll be a one-time thing. Like a cleanse.”

“Like a cleanse.” They echo.

“Well I can check with you-know-who for all the eligible guys at that other stinky school.” Juni says enthusiastically. She had a crush/situationship that went there. We called him YKW because she didn’t want anyone to hear about how often she talked about him despite talking to him 2.5 times.

“More like if he thinks you’re asking for yourself he might get jealous enough to ask you out.” Rhia laughs.

“Ooh.” I join in.

“Shush.” She blushes. “Maybe. It’s all in the tone. Sound innocent but aloof like you don’t know how the question might affect them. And you really are innocent because you’re seriously asking for a friend.”

I laugh loud at Juni. No wonder I managed to pull off my con with Harry in the computer room when I had friends like Juni feeding me these bits of advice.

I feel Harry’s eyes on me, my laughter likely ringing too loud.

“But who wants to be in a relationship at this point?” Rhia asks. “It’s like 3 months to grad and then we get to meet uni folks.”

“Yeah,” I risk a glance toward’s Harry’s table. He’s not looking. “Exactly.”

Harry POV:

Another Saturday night, another house party.

My mum had made a fuss about me never being home weekends so I’d been forced to have dinner with the family and make small talk while my sister smirked knowing I was itching to get out, and my parents barrelled me with question after question about unis and my future.

I feel like my head’s finally above water and I’m taking my first gulp of fresh air when I pull up to the party. I was late of course but that just meant everyone would be a little drunk.

My eyes scan the crowds as I walk through, greeting some friends. The person throwing it was our coach’s nephew who was a year younger than us but somehow cool enough to be in the fold. It also helped that getting along with him gave us more insight on coach during football season.

“You’re late,” Dana who I’ve known since preschool spots me first. “This is a first isn’t it?”

“Yeah yeah my parents were making a big deal about missing dinner.”

“My parents are in Manchester for drugs,” Akil grins. He was coach’s nephew and his parents both worked pharmaceuticals. They were away often enough on work trips so a lot of parties took place here.

“When aren’t they?” Someone asks.

“Surprised you’re not here with a pair of long lashes and boobs,” Dana smarts. Since we’d known each other so long she was just like Gemma always on my case about the way I “used” girls.

“Now c’mon Dana,” I give her my attention. “This shirt didn’t fit the boobs and I was running late for the lashes.”

She rolls her eyes, “Hardy har.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Anyone you’re seeing.”

“I wish,” she crosses her arms. “I feel like half the girls I could be seeing are still closeted.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know!” She says. “Like how do you know when a girl’s straight for you.”

“Touche.” I agree. “And the other half?”

She clears her throat but before she could say something Ray jumps in.

“The other half can’t stand her.”

“Piss off.” She flips him off. The rest of us laugh, used to seeing the two cousins insult each other most of our lives. “More like the other half’s already slept with Harry.”

“I’m getting a drink,” I call out as the accusations go flying.

I leave my friends and sniff out the drinks in its usual spot in the dining room. The house was nice, nicer than most of the homes we had parties at, and yet it wasn’t one of those places that were cold. It was lived-in despite the weird decor along the walls from all of the residents’ travels.

I’m filling up my cup from the keg someone procured when I notice who exactly is in the corner of the room. The seconds stretch as I hone in on her and the friend she’s always with. My blood pumps extra hard just to keep me upright and functioning.

I’d seen her a ton of times since that conversation. We’d even passed a few hellos when forced but I haven’t been the same since.

I had told myself it was one of those things that needed to fully leave my system. Like bad weed or a shitty flu. And I’d waited weeks but everything between, everything I felt, stuck stubbornly.

And now my body betrayed me every time I saw her. I wanted her to look at me and see her expression change. I wanted to ask her how things were, I was fucking curious. Curious. It was awful.

Her friend is using her hands to explain something to YN and I can’t see her face entirely but she looks unconvinced. I nudge a little closer.

“-says so. And! He’s 5’11.”

“So he couldn’t even make it to 6 feet?” YN asks. I hold back a smile.

“YN!” Her friend whines.

“I’m joking!” YN says. “That was a joke jeez I don’t body shame as long as they’re above 5’6.”

Her friend—I think her name was June rolls her eyes. “Ok that was funny but I don’t know why you have cold feet. Just go up to him! You don’t have to date him. Rhi made small talk with him for recon he thought you were cute! And plus…”

I stop listening when the pieces click together. I don’t know why I thought YN and I hooking up would get whatever it was out of her system. Maybe because she never hooked up. Yet here she was being set up with someone else?

YN begins to turn and I move fast, like I was on the field, to get out of there.

“Were you brewing your own beer?” Akil asks.

“Are you timing how long it takes for me to get a drink?” I snap. “Jeez.”

“Easy,” Akil eyes me.

“Someone needs something stronger.”

I ignore them and take a slow breath. That was unwarranted. I don’t know why I was being so irritable with my friends.

In a few seconds my watered down cup is empty and I’m following the crowd to another part of the house.

“Oh Harry!” A pretty voice calls as we settle in. “I didn’t see you tonight—thought you weren’t showing.”

“He was just late don’t worry,” Dana says sweetly as…I think her name was Britney, sashays into the room.

“Yeah I was late,” I glare back at Dana. She didn’t have to talk for me. Then I watch her give Brit the once over and I realize she could be jealous.

“Yeah well we haven’t talked since that night and I just wanted to say,” she stretches up to my ear. “It was really fun. You always know exactly what I need.”

She stands on her toes and sets herself back down, bouncing a few times before cocking her head. Meanwhile I’m trying to place her.

I had kept pretty to myself the last few weeks. I try to remember the last time I had slept with someone and then it comes to me: the night YN and I had that talk after school.

“I had fun myself,” I hold my hand out and she steps inside of it, her arms going around my waist immediately.

“I thought you forgot,” she laughs.

“How could I forget?” I murmur, waiting for that rush of endorphins but my heart’s just not in it. I don’t want to be here chatting her up. I didn’t want to have to listen to her most of the night while my mates hung out. I didn’t want to find a room with her or drop her home. Fuck…I didn’t want to be with her.

That’s never happened before. My body feels foreign, like it’s going into shutdown as the realization slithers through me.

“Have you met Dana before?” I change the subject. I wanted her off of me. Asap. I didn’t care to be around her.

“Dana?” She looks over at Dana, confused. “Uhm no?”

“She’s great.” I say as Dana shoots lasers at me. “I’ve known her since preschool. But she has a bite so be careful what you say around her.”

“Oh,” Britney puts some distance between us as she looks between Dana and I. Good. “Okay? Hi?”

“Hi. Don’t mind him. I think he got drunk off one drink.” Dana glares.

“Unless you’re into biting,” I continue. But I get cut off when Akil calls Brit’s name.

She whips her head at the sound of her name. Akil’s waving. “Does your brother still do those custom decals Brit?”

“Uh yeah?” Poor Brit, she’s confused as shit.

“Yeah? Uh come over here so we can talk. Don’t wanna yell…” Brit abandons us happily and walks over to Akil. I mouth thank you to him and he flashes me a grin that’s up to no good.

“You dick!” Dana swings her hand into my ribs and I fold. “Why would you do that?”

“Ouch! What!?” I rub the sore spot. “Is she not part of half those girls you were talking about?”

“No! Why would you—oh my god.”

I shrug, “I thought she was. I was trying to introduce you two.”

“Do me a favour?” She asks. “Never ever ever play cupid for me. Ever. Don��t pull that shit again.”

I hold my hands up and settle back. Brit was gone at least but the low thrum of anxiety is not. I needed to step away.

“Maybe I need another drink. You want something?” I ask her.

“Really? Didn’t you drive here?” I raise a brow at her. I knew my limits. She shrugs. “Fine I’ll just have whatever you get for yourself.”

I ruffle her hair just to annoy her more as I leave. In all this uncertainty and change at least I still had my friends to banter with. But even then, I was being a dick earlier.

I use the toilet and then grab drinks. On my way out I spot YN and it must be the bloke June was talking about because he looks 5’11 and interested in YN. He looks familiar from the back but before I can focus on who he is I catch her smiling up at him saying something. I feel a twinge in my chest, I made her laugh when we were together. Was it me or did she just laugh at any joke? Maybe what we had wasn’t as unique as I thought.

“Harry.” Someone materializes beside me. It startles me out of my trance and I nearly spill my drinks. “Sorry!”

“You’re light on your feet,” I try to regain composure. And much shorter too. “Hi…June.”

“Eee.”

“Huh?” I stare at YN’s friend. Was she okay?

“You said June.”

“Yeah?”

“My name’s Juni?” She puts her hands on her hips.

“Oh shit sorry. I…sorry.”

“That’s alright,” she shrugs and her cutting look is gone. “Why are you staring at my best friend so hard?”

I stare at her. It made sense suddenly, that this was YN’s best friend. She looks over my shoulder and her face brightens and suddenly somebody else joins our circle.

“Hey what’s going on?” Another one of YN’s friends.

“Just talking to Harry. About why he’s staring lasers at YN behind her back.”

My mouth opens in surprise; I feel cornered.

“Strange from a guy who plays girls like guitar and then moves on like a one-hit-wonder.” Her other friend says.

“Nice one.” Juni nods. “Spot on.”

“I don’t know what you two are on about,” I take a step away from them. It felt like an ambush. “I was just looking in that direction-“

“I’m not an idiot.” Juni rolls her eyes. “I’ve seen the way you watch her in Chem. I sit in front of YN and every time I turn to talk to her i just see you like a freak in the back.”

“Is it a crime to look jeez.”

“Obviously not but listen, we all know you’re a fuckboy. And you…fuck around. We don’t know if it’s cuz you’re not used to rejection or what? But leave her be. She’s going through enough-“

“I know.” My defences rise. I knew now after some digging what she was going through. I haven’t approached her or bothered her as much as I’ve wanted for the last few weeks. I’ve wanted to do more than just look at her like it was a demanding need and I had kept it to myself.

I had been selfish and I know she was going through stuff. Grief and all that. I had no plans to fuck with her.

“Do you?” Her other friend asks.

“Yeah. Her grandpa and stuff. I get it. I’m not trying to…fuck around. You guys are like her bodyguards or something?”

“No just friends,” Juni crosses her arms. “We care about her.”

So do I, I almost say with my defences so triggered. Luckily I have enough sense to keep my mouth shut. Or maybe not. I’ve finally placed the guy she’s talking to and I can’t help but play the upper hand.

“If you cared about her you wouldn’t be hooking her up with a pothead that’s slept with a teacher and been arrested at least once for carrying.

Juni’s mouth drops and her other friend is staring at her.

“You’re lying!” She says.

I turn to look at YN who looks like she’s relaxed and having fun. My stomach turns. “I’m not. But don’t interrupt her now—she looks like she’s having fun.”

“But—how—what!” Juni looks at her friend. “Did you know?”

“Well I know he smokes sometimes but I-“

“Oh my god.” Juni looks mortified.

“I should go.” I should be leaving with satisfaction but all I can think about is YN maybe sleeping with this guy and I just feel sick.

“No you can’t!” Juni says. “Tell me what you know!”

“I did.” I raise my glasses. “My friends are waiting though. Nice talking June.”

Her mouth drops open again as I turn to leave to her shouting, “Juni you prick!”

I can’t deny that that didn’t bring me a bit of satisfaction.

Your POV:

He was incredibly attractive and I might have even blushed when he smiled at me with his full attention but other than that…I’m a bit bored. The thing is he hasn’t detached from his group of friends for one minute and even though he includes me in the conversations—and they are a very lighthearted and funny group, a lot of their inside jokes go over my head and it’s not because of the shots I’d done to get over my nerves tonight. And I’m pretty sure a couple of them are already high.

“And then he blackflips off the pole and-“ the friend telling the story starts laughing too much to finish and I smile along as Drevan shakes his head at me.

“They like to tell this story to pretty girls so they all know I’ve had concussions.”

“Concussions?!” I ask. “Like, multiple?”

Drevan shrugs but his friend hears me.

“Yes! He lands in the bin on his head and knocks himself out-“

“It was actually scary at first,” someone else pipes in.

“I would be shit scared.” These were clearly the type of guys who thought edging death was hilarious. Doubts creep in about whether Drevan was even hook-up material. How did Juni find this guy appropriate?

“I would be too if I was conscious.” Drevan says and everyone laughs.

As they talk about something else, Drevan snakes his hand around my shoulder and I smile at him. He winks and goes back to listening. At least he smelled nice.

My eyes wander the room spotting classmates and familiar faces. Rhia’s in the far end of the room and she gives me a thumbs up, I throw a grimace back. Her brows tighten and I shake my head subtly to tell her not to worry.

I hadn’t seen Harry yet, as hard as I was trying not to look for him. I knew he was probably in some dark corner with a new girl and I shouldn’t care because I was here with someone else.

“Hey YN how come we don’t see you around a lot?” One of his friends ask. All the names were thrown at me so long ago I can’t remember any of them.

“Oh I uhm,” I hate being put in the spotlight like this. “I’m just not a regular at these things.”

“I heard you’re smart as shit,” one of them says.

“Yeah I heard that too,” Drevan nods, impressed.

“I guess yeah,” I shrug. “I work hard to get good grades.”

“Good for you,” Drevan says. “So do you…do any…extracurriculars?”

I just know his definition of extracurriculars is not mine.

“Like do parkour onto the unstable bins at the back of school?” I ask.

“Nah,” he grins. “That’s funny though. I mean do you smoke or…”

Once. Rhia, Juni, and I had begged Rhia’s brother to let us have some of his stash last summer. We’d worn him down with our whining and he agreed to it if we stayed inside until we were sober. And we did, it was one of the highlights of last summer us giggling at everything and watching our favourite romcom while ordering takeaway and eating like we were 13. It was one of those days my life’s worries were able to slide away and I could just enjoy being a teen with my friends.

“I’ve dabbled,” I stay vague. “But it’s been a while.”

His eyes light up. “Want to join?”

I look around the group and the idea of swapping something between their lips to me—I’m sure they were fine but I didn’t know them and it makes my stomach squirm.

“Ehh I’m not big on swapping with everyone—no offence I just-“

“Yeah yeah no worries—I’ve got an uncle who’s like a germaphobe.” Suddenly he’s reaching into his pockets and comes up with a contraption. There’s weed and papers and some other stuff and it makes me laugh. “What?”

“It’s like a lab in your pocket,” I laugh. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“There’s enough to go around.” He grins. “So this one’s really concentrated but maybe that’s a bit much ehm…usually my line is I’ve got one for lovers and one for dreamers.”

Like I’ve summoned the devil, Harry appears in the doorway. I glance back at the group quickly so he doesn’t notice me watching him. Shite.

“I’ll take the lovers,” I shrug. Whatever that meant I figured the one for dreamers would get me more stoned which I’d rather not do here. Not that the one drag I plan on doing could affect me much.

“Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” I smile. He starts to roll it up for me and it’s tighter than a Victorian woman in a corset. I’m sort of mesmerized at how adept his hands are at that. I fear I might have been led on by an actual stoner.

“What’s going on here?” Harry lazily makes his way beside me, hovering over where we sit just as Drevan holds it up to me.

“Heyy Styles c’mon over here!” They do a bro hug and I’m instantly irritated. Of course they know each other. “I was just letting her inspect my work before she takes it-“

“YN?” Harry looks at me and his eyes pierce me to the spot. “YN’s gonna smoke?”

“Yeah!” Drevan puts his arm around me again and unlike before I want him to take it back. “She chose the lovers special man—she’s into it!”

“Really?” Harry smiles. “YN I didn’t know you were into this stuff. I’ve really underestimated you.”

I give him a sarcastic smile. “I heard you’re good at that. I’m not into it but I do it occasionally…”

“Occasionally?” Harry raises a brow. Ugh I hated him.

Meanwhile Drevan’s lit it up and passes it to me. “First?”

I take it and just to prove a point I put it to my lips with my eyes on Harry and inhale exactly how Rhia’s brother taught us. It comes surprisingly easy.

“I’ll take a hit too.” Harry’s eyes don’t leave mine. We’re locked in a challenge.

“Go ahead,” I hand it to him and a small thrill passes through me when his hand brushes mine, when I think about his lips being where mine had just been. I was so screwed.

“I love this guy,” Drevan says beside me, oblivious. “On the field Style’s a legend—he’s somehow made the most goals as a defence. I mean who does that!”

I raise my brows as Harry releases, “Styles not where he’s supposed to be? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Drevan laughs and Harry’s mouth quirks. Drevan takes the spliff from Harry’s outstretched hand but not before being Harry’s number one fan.

“He’s actually a speed demon. Everytime I’m on the field with him I know my legs are done in.”

“That’s because you’re stoned at every game,” Harry says.

“True! I pass every piss test they make me do though don’t I?”

“I don’t want to know,” I put my hand up. “How that’s possible.”

“Yeah sorry sorry,” Drevan smiles. Unfortunately he’s really handsome but the more the picture of him comes together and the more he goes on about Harry the more I know I wore my best matching set for nothing. “Lady present. Did you want another before I pass it?”

“Yeah do you?” Harry eyes me and only because he said it and because I’m feeling nothing so far (my eventual downfall), I take another. I try not to inhale too much but I don’t know how to do a short puff. I hope I don’t regret it. The smell coming off was already a lot.

“Mate?” Drevan asks Harry. He shakes his head. What a snake!

Drevan passes it on and of course Harry decides to stay standing and talking with the group. Apparently a few of them are in a band and they’re trying to convince Harry to help them out. Pretty soon I’m zoning out and my stomach feels funny.

“I don’t know if I feel so great,” I tell Drevan quietly. So what if it looks like I’m whispering sweet nothings in his ear if someone like Harry was watching.

“Oh shit,” Drevan turns into me. “You should get some water. Lay down? D’you want me to help you find-“

“No,” I did not want to hang out with Drevan anymore. He was nice but a pothead. “I got it. It might just be cramps.”

He nods like he understand, “I’ve got two younger sisters. I get that. If you feel better or want some more just come back here okay?”

“Thanks,” I try to convey my appreciation with a smile but I might just look like I’m high.

I ignore Harry as I leave the small group but a hand on my arm stops me as I round the couch.

“Find me later if it gets weird.” He says in my ear.

I lean back so I can see his face but he’s entirely serious. His eyes search mine as I stare at him blankly.

“The weed. Find me later if you need anything.”

He lets go of me. What the fuck? What would I need from him? He wants me to find him later when he’ll have a girl draped all over him just so I can seem needy and he can feel needed. Ugh.

“Girly!” I hear Juni’s voice and nearly collapse into her arms when I crash into her right outside the room.

“Juni oh my god. I’m so glad you’re here where’s Rhia?”

“I dunno? She found some old friend she knew when she was like 6 or something and she’s disappeared to catchup or whatever.”

“Oooh,” I wiggle my brows.

“No it’s legit an old friend. She moved when they were kids or something.”

“Aw,” I sigh. “That was the weirdest-“

“I’m so sorry,” she holds my arms and takes me onto the steps. “I’m gonna kill that guy I swear to god.”

“What? Drevan? No! He was really sweet!”

“No! My guy. YKW. I was trying to make him jealous while he was taking the piss because he totally recommended the class stoner and I pushed you onto him without doing any research! I feel awful!”

“It’s alright! He was really respectful actually. Maybe my type if he wasn’t a pothead?”

“No. No YN do not go there. Apparently he slept with a teacher!”

“No!” I gasp. “Do you think he was their dealer?”

“Obviously! And they probably couldn’t pay so he set up a barter system.”

“How much do you think one round covers?”

We pause to think before cackling at the story we’d just created.

“We’re idiots. Class idiots.” Juni says as we wipe our tears.

“I love us.” I say and realize how true it is. “I love you Juni. Honestly I don’t know where’d I’d be without you. And Rhia. You guys have kept me so together this past year.”

“Aww,” Juni hugs me sideways. “What are forever friends for babe.”

“Like I feel like I’ve just been going through a shitstorm and everything is still changing so much! And I can’t figure anything out! And you and Rhia are like standing on either side of me just keeping me up. I seriously-“

“Jeez don’t cry!” Juni wipes my lashline. “I don’t want to cry if I’m going to tear YKW a new one.”

“You haven’t already?”

“No! I was busy being a creep in the corner watching you to make sure Sir Pothead didn’t do any funny business. I saw you smoke his weed though. You alright?”

“Yeah. Maybe I just need the toilet I’m feeling a bit nauseous.”

“Okay. Just call me if you need me alright?”

“I love you,” I tell her. I want to squish her against me but I start to feel really poorly. “I’m gonna go though.”

“Go!” She waves me off. “I’ve got some yelling to do.”

The walk to the toilet is a fog and I run the tap to splash my face. It feels extra cold so I dial it down but it gets too hot. Suddenly I want to cry.

“Breathe,” I tell myself. “Breathe breathe breathe breathe. Oh my god. Okay. Let’s go with cold water.”

I splash the tundra water on my neck and along my throat. It feels better-ish.

I realize I hadn’t turned on the light when I can’t even see my reflection.

“Stupid,” I laugh. I turn it on and immediately stop laughing. My face…it’s drooping. Am I having a stroke?

I pull my cheeks up with my palms and squish it into my face but every time I let go I look like I’ve lived another 30 years and gravity has taken’s it’s toll on my face.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to myself. I whisper it again because it sounds nice. It feels good to swear. I say it again, a little louder and I laugh because I have no idea what’s going on.

I squeeze my eyes closed, shake my face, and look back. I look somewhat normal. My neck looks splotchy though. I rummage through a drawer but other than a blowdryer there’s nothing to help me.

“You’re an attractive girl and you’re just feeling a little fucked.” I tell myself in the mirror. “You-“

“Hurry!” Bang. “Up!” Bang.

I jump out of my skin and turn to stare at the door. Did I imagine that?

“Hello!” Bang.

Another succession of banging and shouting to get me out of the bathroom. How dare they?

I fling the door open and the guy on the other side startles.

I lean in and poke his chest. “Rude. Fucking rude!”

“I need the toilet!”

“I am a lady using it that’s rude! You don’t bang on the door like a fuckass while I’m in there!”

“Okay!” He holds his hands up. “Sorry! I had to use it and you were in there for hours!”

“It was not hours!” I say but even I can’t tell. “You’re a liar too!”

“I can’t do this I’ve got to go, here look I’m sorry-“ he shoves something into my hand and scrambles away, locking the door behind him.

It’s a glass bottle and it feels deliciously cold.

I inspect the bottle but it looks like beer. A few swigs and I finally feel less flushed. Less agitated. This was nice. This was perfect. Maybe he was an angel in a miserable disguise.

“Mmmm,” I laugh. Maybe I needed to dance. I felt like dancing.

I pass a few crowds, some rooms; when I see dancing I slide in. I don’t know what’s playing but it feels like it’s coming from my heart and it’s spilling out from me. Like I was the speaker. I spin around a few times so everyone can hear it, so the whole room could have just as much fun as me.

“Oh fuck,” I swear as the spinning catches up to me. “Not a good idea.”

I crouch into a corner and try to be patient. Wait for it to pass. But every second feels like a fucking decade and I don’t have the time.

“Hey are you alright?” A nice girl with cartoon-like eyes asks me. I know her. I just can’t remember where.

“Are you?” I ask. “I’m grand.”

“You don’t look it,” she smiles awkwardly. “Can I help you up.”

“I can get up,” I say but my legs feel tangled and she helps me up without asking eventually.

“Can I take you somewhere? Your friends or?”

“No no relax, you’re so nice!” I pat her shoulder. “And you have amazing bangs. I wish I looked good in bangs. My Nan cut my bangs when I was 12, microbangs!? And I wished I was never born! My face looked like a fucking square like a piece of toast! Oh god I could use toast right now. With beans. Uhhhhhh-“

“Hey,” the nice girl leans me against the wall. “How about you stay here and I get you water?”

Suddenly I remember Drevan telling me to drink water. I’m sure I had water but I nod. Water wouldn’t kill me. Unless I was drowning. Which is funny because I used to swim competitively. Like if I was in a thriller my parents would know I was murdered because I would have died drowning. I smile to myself just as a water bottle is held out to me.

“You know plastic’s killing the earth,” I take the bottle. “Isn’t it funny we bottle water in plastic when it’s free flowing out there? Hey do you know how to swim? You look like you could-“

“Drink!” She urges but she blushes. “You really should drink the water. You might be drunk…or high. You’re too wordy for a drunk.”

“I don’t know what I am.” I say after drinking half the bottle. “Actually I’m alive.”

She smiles at me and she’s really really nice to look at. “You are alive.”

“Yeah! I love being alive. Do you want to dance?”

“I don’t dance,” she shakes her head. “Plus I have to get back…Um. It was nice talking to you.”

“Nooo!” I clutch her hand. Her hands feel incredibly soft.

“Ow!” She pulls her hand away laughing. “You’re really squishing my hand.”

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry. You should call someone if you’re here. And you don’t feel good.”

“No I’m great!” I show her a dance move. “See? I can call my friend Juni. She’s great. You should find her you two could be friends! But I’ll call her first.”

“Okay,” she smiles again. “See ya around YN!”

I didn’t know her name. Oh no! I look for her but she’s disappeared into thin air.

I go back to dancing until my legs hurt and I’m thirsty all over again.

I wander to the front of the house in search of drink but I’m distracted by the chandelier that looks like it’s made of stars. I wonder how that’s possible. I stand at the foot of the staircase staring at it, the light was reflecting off of one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-

“What are we looking at?”

Harry. His head is level with mine and he’s staring at the ceiling.

“That? Duh.” I point to the stars. “It’s bloody beautiful.”

“It is,” he chuckles and the sound feels like it vibrates through me. Like those steel pans you hit with a mallet and it reverberates. “I can see you’re in the full throes of your high.”

“You’re high.” I retort as he stands back to full height. He really was high.

“Not really. But you,” he laughs, “you really inhaled that thing.”

“And you didn’t?”

“Barely. If I’m getting high I don’t like so much thc. Fucks with my head a little.”

“So then why’d you do it Styles?” I mock Drevan. I don’t know why. I just remember it had grated on me a little and it feels good to say. Like swearing. But staring up at him starts to make me feel dizzy as he sways around.

“Harry.”

“Huh?”

“It’s Harry.”

Weirdo. “Okay. Harry. Why’d you do it?”

“Because you were doing it.” He says with a flash of his dimple.

“So you’re a copycat? A follower?” I taunt. “Monkey see monkey do?”

“As long as we’re the pair of monkeys.” He leans in and the smell of him envelops me. “Then yeah. I am.”

His words, his smell, his presence. Whatever it is I lean away from the much-ness of it. I don’t know what to say to him.

“Well I dunno who you’re cal—woah.” I lean too far back and underestimate how far away the stair behind me is. I land on my bum with a thump.

“Hey,” Harry grabs my arm a second too late.

“Bad reflexes,” I point to his arm but it’s too late. My stomach dips and twirls like a fucking roller coaster and his hand on my arm feels more inappropriate than it is. But his touch. God, it’s warm and strong and stable. I needed that. Craved it.

A small voice screams at me in my head and I tell it to shut up. What did it know?

“That’s my bad,” he lets me go. I want to shout at him to bring it back.

“Your bad what?” I stare at his hand that’s no longer on my arm. I want it back.

“My bad reflexes.”

“I just said that.”

“I know! I’m saying you’re right.”

“Of course I’m fucking right!”

I finally drag my eyes up to his face. Goddamn. He looks just like I did in the mirror; his face slowly drooping like he’s aged 50. Still got a full head of hair though. It’s kind of nice.

Not you being attracted to a 50 year old.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Harry asks but I can’t stop staring. How can he look good with a sagging face? And he’s got no wrinkles. I knew time was feeling really slow but had we aged that much tonight?

“YN?” His face disappears from view and then I feel it again—his hand on me. Oh god. His hand’s on my face to lower it until I’m looking at him. Eye-level.

He’s crouched down in front of me and his eyes are pools I want to drown in. Which would take a lot of effort because I am a really good swimmer. Maybe I could fake drown. I zip through the possibilities in a few seconds. There were so many of them.

He says my name again but it sounds far away. Slow. Like he’s pronouncing every letter. His brows further—there! A wrinkle! I laugh but his eyes just fill with something…something that reminds me of the night I cried in front of him. When he just looked at me like…

“Your face,” I slap my hands down on both his cheeks and he balances himself on the bannister, nearly falling back. “It’s drooping.”

“It’s what?” He laughs.

I smush his cheeks up and try to fix it, not that it needed to be fixed. He was stupidly attractive always.

“Drooping! Sagging! I just need to push it up! I’ve done it before don’t worry.”

“YN,” his fingers circle my wrist and I stop what I’m doing immediately. Surely he feels how erratic my pulse is. Like a machine gun releasing into his finger.

Don’t look into his eyes don’t look into his eyes don’t-

Damnit.

Green and never-ending, a question I’m afraid to answer, an emotion that I felt myself but denied, the beginning of something I could not step into. I could not step into. I could not step into this.

With a gentle tug he’s removed my hands off his face and now, even worse, they lay on top of his.

Maybe…I could step into this.

“Talk to me, what’s happening?” He asks but again it sounds like a Tiktok video I’ve put into 0.75.

I can’t talk. My hands are in his but it feels like my heart’s there instead and like my mouth has travelled to the back of my head. He wants me to talk. Like I did that night. He looks at me like he cares. Like that night. He’s not supposed to care.

Why didn’t I take the high road that afternoon—my brain scrambles as the joke writes itself: I was taking the high road today whether I liked it or not. But I chose to be petty when we talked. Why would I want to hurt him? He cared. He wasn’t supposed to though.

“I thought weed was s’posed to calm you down.” I finally manage to get it out.

“You chose the wrong one for calming down.” He laughs. The sound washes over me.

“Huh? I’m not calm. My mind is a factory for thoughts. The production is endless I feel like I’m going to explode and everyone’s going to know everything in here.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” He squeezes my hands. I squeeze my legs. “Might be nice for top class YN YLN to join us mortals and share some regular thoughts.”

“Oh these are not regular. Fuck. Drevan should’ve given me a warning.”

He smiles fondly and I hate it and I love it. “He did.”

“What!?” I’m so confused right now. “Stop! I don’t like how I’m feeling!”

“Did you drink anything?”

“Yeah! Th-that miserable angel gave me…I dunno. He just gave it to me after being an asshat what was I s’posed to do!”

“I’m not even gonna ask,” he mutters and I feel the words through my hands. That are still touching mine.

“Why are you still holding my hands?”

“You don’t want me to?”

“No.”

He slips them away. But that wasn’t what I meant.

“No I want you to touch me,” I say. His eyebrows which looks one inch tall shoot up. I reach out to flatten them and they return to normal.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat. “Y-you do?”

I reach out to touch his face again because it just feels like it fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand. It’s warm and alive and a little prickly. But it feels so nice. He feels nice. I want him to touch me too. I nod.

“How?” He turns his face in my palm and it’s like bristles against my soft skin but then his lips press against my palm. I find it harder to breathe like all the air’s gone to my head.

He looks back at me and I want what his gaze has. I want every single thing they’re communicating. I felt like I could read his mind; we both took a hit of the same thing, maybe I can.

“Like that,” I whisper.

“Like this?” His fingers circle my wrist and he kisses it, exactly where my pulse continues on its kill streak. I don’t think I needed weed or anything because his kisses alone make me feel high. The kind of high I did with my friends. The fun high.

I can’t speak. I simply nod.

“Y’sure?” He kneels on the step below me and I unsqueeze my legs. His hands cage me against the step I’m on and he’s all around me, and even though he hasn’t touched me yet it’s like his essence vibrates out to touch mine. Like maybe they meet in the middle and create something delicate and bewitching.

“I’m sure,” I manage to say.

I feel perfectly overwhelmed as he leans into me and presses a kiss to my throat. But it’s too slow.

“You’re killing me,” I tell him when he kisses me again by my ear.

“That was your job,” he comes back to face me.

“It’ll be my job if you don’t touch me in the next five seconds.”

“Fucking hell,” Harry’s swear catches me off guard.

“What?”

“You say those types of things in my dreams. I never thought I’d hear them out of those lips of yours again.”

I don’t know what to say. My mind literally quiets. Finally. It feels sobering.

“I can’t give you what you want out here.”

Then he’s standing. He’s fucking standing and further away from me than before. How dare he! How-

Oh.

He extends a hand and I take it, I let him pull me up and with a hand to my back that feels like a pulse he leads me upstairs. And then up another flight. He walks like he knows the place and everything blurs until he closes a door behind him. My heart beats like an elephant stampede until he comes back to me and cups my face, looks at me in that exact Harry way, and kisses me.

I’m falling but I’m unafraid. There’s his strong and steady arms to catch me at the end.

We make our way to the bed and I feel it. That’s everything. I just feel the sounds and colours and emotions and touch, the air and the bedpost and the way he says my name against me. I feel it. I feel it grounding me.

“Wait,” when he pulls away I nearly launch myself at him but I feel too relaxed to even be mad. He’s perched on the bed with me between his legs. I keep my hands around his neck because I couldn’t bare to have them by my side. “Should we be doing this? You’re not really with it and-“

“I’m not bloody unconscious.”

“I know but you’re not in the right mindset.”

“I’m practically begging you to touch me Harry. You’re really slow for someone who’s meant to be a womanizer.”

“Hold on,” he puts his hands back on my waist and I relax marginally. “It’s a consent thing. I know my way around women perfectly.”

I knew.

“I consent. ‘Kay?”

“But you’re high and probably drunk? I don’t-“

“You’ve never slept with someone high?”

“Yeah! But you’re….you’re you!”

“What’s that mean?” I frown. I unclasp my hands and take a step back.

He runs a hand down his face and sighs. “Not like that. Come back. I mean you don’t normally do this sort of thing. It’s obviously the first time you’ve taken a hit from something this strong and…” all the words taper off as I cross my arms. “Okay! Nevermind! You’re alright with all this?”

“Yes. Yes a hundred bajillion million times. Do you want me to walk in a straight line with my finger on my nose?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “No I’m sorry.”

It’s nice, him apologizing. It thaws me a little. When I’m close enough he tugs me back by the jeans and unbuttons them slowly. Everything was too slow.

“What were you saying about begging?” He grins up at me. I liked when he was looking up at me.

“I said practically.”

His hands roam freely up under my tee and I feel like I’m melting. Like a literal scoop of ice cream on a hot summer’s day.

He fingers my bra and his brows suddenly come together. It’s very animated I almost laugh.

“Take this off,” he removed his hands from my body and tugs at the tee. I do what he tells me to, just wanting his hands on me again. When it’s a pile on the ground he leans back, cocking his head to the side.

“What?” I throw my hands up. “You’re gonna ask me just t’stare?”

“No this,” he leans forward again and uses the band of my exposed knickers to pull me forward. When I’m close enough he eyes my bra. “This was for him?”

A flush erupts under my skin and it feels volcanic. Some of it pools in my belly and the rest creeps up my neck.

The this is my one and only 2 piece set I’d kept for special occasions. Well a singular one before my ex broke up with me last year. It had seen the light of day once in between and tonight I had worn it for luck. It’s lacy and black and makes me feel confident. In front of Harry it makes me feel powerful.

He was jealous. Of course the one guy that sleeps with whoever he wants would be the jealous type.

“Maybe,” I egg it. Even though I am desperate for this night to move on I can’t deny the thrill of having him be jealous. It affirms the needy part of me that wanted to believe we had something different—the part rational me wouldn’t ever pay attention to.

“So you planned it all out?” He removes his fingers from my waistband and leans back again. “You were going to come here, in that, and sleep with…him?”

“Why not him?” I bite my smile but I barely feel what my face is doing. “If it’s too much for your ego I wore this for someone el-“

“No.”

He says it as a complete sentence. I am gagged but I try my best not to show it.

“I just don’t like the idea of it.”

“Well,” I step in between his legs. His eyes are so dark I have to think just to remember the colour they usually were. “This isn’t the first time so better get used to the idea.”

“But you’re here with me tonight.”

“I am…lucky you.” I can’t help the chesire grin from creeping in. I climb atop the bed, one knee on either side of him. This was taking too long. I needed him all over me.

He leans all the way back into the bed with a noisy sigh.

I lean in, “jealous aren’t you?”

“Do you like that?”

I lean further until I could smell his pulse. “D’you want me to like that?”

“Yeah,” he gulps. “W-would you ever be? Jealous?”

I kiss his throat. I want to bite it. Like a vampire. I resist.

“You’re not mine to be jealous.”

“Do you want me to be?” He asks so earnestly I lean back to see his face.

“Mine?” I ask. He nods. I did. I didn’t. I did. But I didn’t. “Mmmm don’t think you’re ready for that.”

“Ouch,” he says softly. His hands settle on my hips.

“Don’t ouch me. You’ve never had a long-term relationship and you run.”

“You’re different. You make me feel different.”

Same. But instead I ask, “And in three months time when we’re…gone and in different cities?”

“I’ll never stop wanting you.”

We fix each other with a stare equal parts frustrated, curious, and cautious. It was getting too serious—I didn’t want to ruin my chances of getting my needs met tonight. I clear my head and ease the tension.

“You’re jus’ saying this to get into my pants aren’t you?”

He plays along, “Is it obvious?”

“Yes. Now be a good boy and help me out of them.”

His mouth opens a little, honestly I don’t know where that even came from. I blame it on the drugs. He helps me out and when I’m only in the 2 piece he stops me.

“I’m never forgetting this night. Ever.”

“Shut up and get over here.” I roll my eyes. He was full of it.

His lips on me are like no drug anybody could ever hand me. They’re confident and unafraid, exploring every inch of me like a pirate looking for lost treasure. They make me gasp and beg and feel the entire universe and every single thing ever creates.

It leaves me untethered but he wraps me in his arms and I’m safe. I’m here with him. And for tonight, we’re together. With every move we build a universe just us.

H’s POV:

For the first time in my life I pray for red lights.

Every time my car stops I get to look at her in my passenger seat and I want to pinch myself. I can’t believe tonight was real. That she’s real. That even after everything, we got to have tonight together.

She’s got lowered inhibitions you just got lucky, a part of me says. And I know that. I know tonight was a one-off. She was never going to be this YN with me again.

Where I used to be afraid of this, of committing to her. I want it. I can’t imagine being with anyone else. When she said I wasn’t ready she was right but I didn’t want her to be. Maybe I had to change.

“Hey you’re home,” I say after being parked outside her house for a few minutes and just soaking in the last moments. It was warm in the car and quiet except for the low hum of the radio because YN had said it was making her sleepy. When she first sat in the car she had looked up at me through her long lashes for so long I had forgotten to turn the ignition on. When we realized she had laughed and leaned over to kiss me. Sweetly on the cheek. Like a girlfriend might.

I’d never wanted a girlfriend before.

It hurt knowing she might not even remember tonight. Or if she would it would be overshadowed by her other feelings. The feelings that came with baggage.

It was different seeing her so carefree tonight. I wonder if that’s how she was before all the stuff with her grandparents. And suddenly I’m mad at myself for not paying attention sooner. At her ex for hogging her for all that time. I imagine I met her earlier and could help her through the storms of last year.

God, I was becoming a simp. I look at her again, I didn’t care. Not if it was for her.

I open my door and go around into the street to open hers. As afraid as I was that her parents would find me outside with their basically passed-out daughter I just knew she couldn’t make it to the front door alone.

“Hey sleepy monkey, we gotta get you inside.”

“Huh?” She squints, blinks a few times. It was adorable and it makes something squirm in my chest. “Whatimeist?”

“Uhhh,” I look at my phone and notice the texts from a few people. “Half past 2 or so.”

“Oh god,” YN groans and covers her face with her jacket.

While she orients herself I check my messages. Akil had asked where I disappeared, Gemma’s asking me if I’ll be home for breakfast, and Dana asking me if YN was alright.

I owed it to Dana, she had found YN in a right state as she told me and that had pushed me to go looking for her where I’d found her in a daze staring at the ceiling lights. Thank god I had.

YN removes her legs from the car with a thump and then slumps over. I catch her this time and pull her up, closing the door behind her.

“You’ll have to help me a little,” I grunt.

“Mmk,” she mumbles. She wraps her arm around me and tucks into me and I take her to her front door.

“Keys.”

She paws at her jacket and eventually finds a pair.

“I don’t want to get you in trouble,” I whisper. “So I’m going to unlock the door and give you back your keys.”

“Why are you whispering?” She whispers back. “Huh?”

“I don’t want to get you in trouble!” I shout-whisper.

“Silly boy,” her eyes crinkle with a laugh. “My parents aren’t home.”

“Oh.” Suddenly the night stretches ahead.

“They’re travlingain.” She yawns. “You can sleepover?”

“No.” I couldn’t I realize with a wash of shame. Because waking up to her I don’t know what that meant. As much as I denied her claim about me not being ready deep down she was right.

She pouts and I busy myself with opening her door. She’s like a leech on me as I try to get her through and I end up inside with the door closing behind me.

“Drop me to bed?”

“You want to be tucked in?” I tease. She nods with a tired smile.

Who was I to deny such a cute face.

She leads me to her room, most of the house is too dark to see so I rely on her. Once in her room she turns on a lamp and sets about getting pjs.

“I’m gonna hate myself if I don’t,” she points to her face. “Ughhhh.”

“Glad I don’t relate.” I say but already I’m looking around her room. Every surface has something; I didn’t take YN as a collector but there’s piles of things everywhere. Seashells on her bookshelf, postcards on her wall, plushes on her bed, jewellery on her dresser next to miniature fruit figurines. I pick up a tiny pomegranate the size of my nail.

“I’m making them into earrings.” She says behind me. “My Nan likes that sort of thing.”

I didn’t expect her so fast. I turn and she sounds more sober and looks it too. Her face is freshly washed and she’s in an oversized shirt but only her legs peek out underneath. I recall the strength of them as they locked around my body just an hour ago, the sound of her and the feel of her—it was tattooed into a part of my brain.

But the YN presented before me is a lot like the one I see at school, and for a moment I get ready for her to kick me out. Accuse me of something. Go cold on me.

But she shuffles over and wraps her arms around me, lays her head on my chest. I slowly wrap my arms around her. The moment feels soft.

“Thanks for dropping me,” she says quietly. “I feel so fucked.”

“I know,” I chuckle. “You’ll be brand new in the morning. I made you drink a couple bottles of water before we left.”

“I don’t remember,” she mumbles tiredly.

“Let’s get you tucked into bed.” I say. She follows, and giggles the whole time I exaggeratedly tuck in every side of her. I love every second of it and I can’t believe it. If you told Harry of a month ago I would be doing this and having more fun than I’ve had with any girl I’d tell you to you were fucking with me.

“Stay? ‘Til I sleep?” She asks as soon as I finish.

I hesitate. I was so afraid a switch would go off any second, she would regret everything from tonight. I don’t realize how tense I am about it until a hand sneaks out from under the duvet and grips mine.

“Hey I just tucked you in!”

“Sorry!” She slips it back in with a shy smile.

“Fine,” I grumble and climb atop the blankets. At least this way I wouldn’t get too comfortable.

She turns to face me and we just watch each other in the warm glow of her lamp until her eyes flutter close. I wait until her breathing goes even and then I gently climb over her, kiss her goodnight, and leave. My heart chips further as I step over the threshold of her house. A little more as I drive away.

***YN:

I’m trying to remember which club I had tonight as I grab the textbooks I need from my locker for morning classes. My second period was so far away I just liked to get everything in at once.

The face that greets me as I close my locker door has my heart racing.

I wait for the familiar edginess but when I look at him I just feel confused. And a bit sad. Or that could be because he’s looking at me like I have the last Easter egg and I might share it with him for a prize.

“Harry,” I greet him.

“YN.” He says equally serious before cracking a smile.

He’s different. Friendlier? Or lighter?

“What?” I look around me. He raises his brows so I raise mine back. It feels silly.

The last time I saw him was at the party smoking weed laced with god knows what—I barely remembered the party after that which was entirely unlike me. All I could find was a text from Rhia asking if I’d made it home and when asked Juni had said she had left me looking fine and she couldn’t find me afterwards but she heard I might have been sick.

“Did you make it in alright?” He finally asks. “You got surprisingly fucked up Saturday night.”

I know he was there at the beginning. And I remember talking to him about something later, maybe the stars? It’s such a haze. But the way Harry’s looking at me makes my stomach turn; there was a possibility something could have happened.

It was weird waking up safely in my room with only a vague notion of how I got there. I remember someone waking me up and being in my room but I woke to an empty bed. An empty house.

Usually I slept at Nan’s when mum and dad travelled but I was still not talking to her much. The house felt emptier. My room felt different. My clothes from the night before had smelled like weed. It was not cute.

“Uh yeah I did?” Why was he talking to me so casually? I match his vibe in hopes of understanding the weekend better. “I didn’t have a hangover luckily. But I don’t think weed normally does that? I was incredibly hungry though. Like…I made a breakfast for five at least.”

Oh god and now I was blabbering. I was nervous! I don’t know if he had anything to do with Saturday night and I didn’t know how to act around him being so nice!

“Yeah well I think you had fun Saturday.”

I freeze. “What did I do? Please tell me I didn’t do anything embarrassing. I only remember bits.”

“Uh,” he falters. “Uh well I…I heard. That um, you were dancing and having the time of your life so.”

“Kill me,” I groan.

“That’s not my job.” He jokes but I don’t get it. His smile falls, his brows pinching together. It’s so unlike him.

“I don’t get it.”

“Nothing. Bad joke.”

“Right.” As the time ticks closer to first bell the hall we’re in crowds more with tired teens. “Is that why you stopped by? To ask about making it home?”

“Erm, not really. I guess…was just gonna ask if you were coming to football?”

“Today?”

“Yeah the game after school.”

“Isn’t it early in the season?”

“It is but we’re doing a scrimmage against our ‘favourite frenemies’. It’ll be good. You should come. Your dealer might even be there.”

I ignore the dealer comment. “Are you short a cheerleader Styles?”

The banter pauses as he stares at me and I nearly ask him if he’d hit his head over the weekend when he clears his throat, “Harry.”

“Huh?”

Another pause where he looks like he’s doing quantum physics in his head. “Nevermind.”

What the hell? My skin prickles as heat creeps in.

“So you’re in need of a cheerleader?” I say lamely, just to dial down the intensity. Something had to have happened right? Last thing I remember I had “walked away” with pride but a chipped heart and we’d been polite to each other in school. Suddenly he’s here being boyish and friendly, and I’m here like I skipped a chapter and I’ve got a pop quiz again.

“Are you volunteering?” He asks.

“I forgot my outfit at home. I’ll have to pass altogether.”

I sidestep him and start walking away.

“Wait,” he runs ahead to stop me and gets dirty looks as he intercepts the path of a few students heading to class. “What if I said….I’d like for you to come.”

I stare. Like perhaps he’s grown a second head. Because he sort of has. It was just as pretty but much nicer and it’s sort of terrifying.

Did I cry to him some more? Was he pitying me?

“Why would you say that?” I ask genuinely.

“Well uh, you heard about my playing, I’d like for you to see it.”

“So you need cheerleaders.” I echo.

He searches my face but he must not find what he’s looking for. Something slides across his features that I don’t catch fast enough but it makes my heart skip a beat nonetheless. This casual conversation felt precarious. I needed it to end until I had more context.

I raise my brows and it prompts him to actually respond.

“Nevermind uh that’s alright. I’m sure you’ve got books to read and clubs to conquer right?”

A speck of guilt lodges itself in my throat. “Something like that.”

“Well,” he shrugs. “I had to ask! I’ll just have to find someone who brought their pom poms to school today.”

“Good luck!” I call after him, kind of wishing he wasn’t walking away. But he was. And that’s when I realize why he was lighter. He’d been standing in front of me talking without that ego of his. And openly in front of anyone walking by and he didn’t care. Then I’d rejected him.

Ugh. Maybe I’d have to turn up to that game if I could. But before then I had to try as hard as possible to figure out what the hell happened the other night.

***

“You guys need to tell me what happened Saturday night. As much as you can remember. After that conversation Juni you and me. And I remember going to the loo. And then I remember talking to Harry maybe? Please tell me.”

“Shite.” Both my friends eye each other. “What’s led this on?”

“Harry! He was bring incredibly nice to me today. In public! I feel like something happened but I can’t bloody remember!”

“Well he did drop you home,” Rhia says so casually. I whip towards her and at the same time both Juni and I shout “What!?”

“What!” Rhia says defensively. “I didn’t realize you didn’t remember that part! You seemed pretty sober by then.”

“You totally missed telling that detail that night! How dare you let her go anywhere with that pig! Sober or not!” Juni breathes fire. I’m surprised because on Friday she didn’t hate him this much. What the hell happened Saturday?

“Well she seemed fine. I double checked—YN I doubled checked with you you were okay with that. You told me it was fine. He was just dropping you home and he wasn’t drunk!”

“Wait wait back up. Tell me everything.”

So Rhia tells me how I’d texted her I was leaving with Harry and he was dropping me. How she’d rushed to the front of the house to catch me—and she had. I was alone trying to get my arms through my jacket and failing. She had asked me if everything was okay, I’d told her I was still coming down from the high and Harry was taking me home. How I wanted him to.

Then apparently Harry had shown up with water for me. And Rhia thought that was helpful. She watched, shocked, as he helped me into my jacket one sleeve at a time like I was in preschool. Then she’d got up in his face and had him swear he’d take me right home. Even took down his number in case I stopped responding.

“So was I with him the whole night?” I ask.

Rhia and Juni shrug.

Juni contributes: “Well that girl that hangs out with them—bangs, really big brown eyes? She came up to me when I was alone and asked if I was Juni and she told me you were dancing in this room and you looked a bit sick.”

I groan. Harry had said something about dancing.

“I tried to find you but you disappeared. I was worried and tried to find Rhia but she disappeared!” Juni looks at her with an accusation.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to desert!”

“Yeah well then I got distracted and by the time I went looking for you again this one here told me you’d gone home. She failed to mention who with.”

Rhia rolls her eyes.

I hold my head in my hands. “Guys this is a nightmare. I am having massive regrets. Can regrets give you a hangover? I feel hungover!”

My friends try to reassure me as much as I can but it’s no use. I feel like my life is spinning out again.

As far as the pieces I could put together: after the loo I’d danced and Harry’s friend found me—I think I knew her from when I did swim, maybe her name started with an M? Now that I thought about it I do vaguely remember her asking me a question. Maybe that’s how Harry found me. Because of her. And then he took me home? I hope?

No that was the story I had to go with. Otherwise I would spiral. I repeat it to my friends and they confirm it sounded right-ish.

“But that was sweet of him right? To drop me off home and leave the party early?” I ask my friends.

“Yeah-“ Rhia starts to say but Juni holds her hand out.

“Don’t bloody go there. I forbid that.”

Me and Rhia look at each other. She shrugs and I tell Juni I wouldn’t.

I mull over everything the entire afternoon. Even during the club meeting after school, not really participating and getting asked if I was okay. Obviously I was not.

I do make it to the last half of the game and hope Juni doesn’t find out. It’s just something I feel like I had to do because he had asked so genuinely and I did owe him for taking care of me Saturday.

I find a spot somewhere where I can see and try to spot Harry. It’s not hard when he’s got the ball, legs pumping, headband pushing his curls back and a look of pure determination as he gets to the net and kicks directly….into the goalie’s mitts. The crowd groans.

“Isn’t he defence?” I ask someone beside me.

“It’s a scrimmage game,” they reply. “They play the opposite position for fun. He’s really good though he should be front all the time.”

He is. And it’s kind of…attractive? I understood Dreven’s fangirling. And why Harry was such a big name amongst the girls. I kind of got it now.

Speaking of Dreven I spot him on the sidelines. I shuffle behind someone so he doesn’t spot me.

As the minutes tick by Harry and his team score a few more goals that makes it even. With just a couple minutes left on the clock it’s a tie and everybody shuffles to the side of the field where our team get’s a penalty kick.

I stay with the stragglers on this side, bouncing up and down with adrenaline. I can’t believe I’ve never gone to one of these. I always had some test or club to be busy with. But this is clearly what brought the schools together.

Right before the final whistle Harry makes a perfect shot on goal and the crowd goes absolutely mad. People are shouting and jumping for joy, clutching each other and chanting his name.

Harry runs half the field and pumps his arms, clashing with a few of his teammates who jump around him. It’s funny and cute.

As his team huddles around him and they walk to the chants of our school to the sidelines a couple girls slide out of the edges. A couple go to some of the other boys, one in particular wraps herself around Harry and kisses him with quite the show. The crowd only gets rowdier while the ref blows her whistle.

I, on the other hand, feel emptied.

I watch his arm snake around her waist. Press her to him. Her hands clutching his face. It feels like it goes on for eons. Eons and a day.

When the horrid thing finally ends he lifts his hands to the crowd and they cheer him. Not just for being a winner but for being a womanizer too.

I was an idiot. He had been nice to me, sweetened me up this morning about coming here. That didn’t mean anything. That didn’t mean he actually cared that I was here.

And then the worst part of all. He shouts into the air and turns to his team but his eyes clash with mine as he does. He does a double take, and we stare at each other halfway across the fields. He looks like he’s broken into his mum’s makeup and made makeup soup and his mum’s just come home. I imagine I look like someone’s just turned all my makeup into makeup soup.

I had to get out of here.

Why did I come? Why didn’t i just stay after the meeting and finished up work. I could have gone my entire secondary school existence without ever coming to one of these stupid games.

I feel lower than I have in a long time. I feel homesick suddenly and I decide then it was time to go. Home. And maybe home wasn’t the empty house I was stubbornly staying in. Maybe I had to chuck my hurt and my ego out the window and go crawling back to Nan. She would help me sort this heart of mine out. This wretched thing that kept on going even after it took a beating.

H’s POV:

One moment I’m on top of the world; first game of the year and I’ve scored the winning goal. The next I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed.

I want to tear away from the boys. I want to go to her explain it away but I’m surrounded and I only catch a glimpse of her looking away and then leaving. Gone.

“Hey man where are you going!?” One of the guys asks as I break away. “We’re all going to eat!”

“I’ll meet you guys there! I forgot to do something!”

“Aw cmon!” They hurl words at me trying to get me to stay but I jog away. She’s disappeared.

I jog back to the building and my head swivels every hall I go down as I head towards her locker. I find her slamming it shut and hoisting her bag onto her back.

“Hey!” I finally reach her. “YN hey! I wasn’t expecting you at the game.”

Her mouth opens like she has something to say. I wait for the usual fieryness but she deflates.

“Yeah. Congrats. That was a great final goal. Very dramatic. And you found your cheerleader too. I can see why everyone loves you out there.”

Fuck. She was going back to the other YN, the one who acted like she didn’t care, the one who had stayed out of my league all throughout school.

I wanted the YN in the quiet moments in the dark. The one tucked into my arms with the look of curiosity as she looked into my eyes and right to my soul. Even the confused one from this morning who was hesitant but there was still a possibility I could win her over.

This YN had slammed the door shut.

“It was just for show.” I try to explain.

“The goal?” She squints.

“No. No the-I didn’t need a cheerleader. She wasn’t…it was just for show. After scoring the winning goal it didn’t mean anything-“

“It’s whatever.” She cuts me off. “God you don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I feel like I do, I didn’t know you were coming. I didn’t invite you just to-“

“Oh my god!” She cuts me off again. “It’s fine! I’m…it’s whatever. It’s not like you’re mine or something. We hooked up like weeks ago, we already talked about all of this. You’re off the hook remember? No messy feelings to complicate our lives, especially mine?”

Yet her eyes water as she says it and she blinks until it’s gone. My heart feels like it’s drowning in those unshed tears. Her words are also the final confirmation; she didn’t remember the weekend. I would just be cursed to remember what we could have been by myself. I probably deserved it.

“I know.” I want to say more. But she shrugs and looks like she’s going to leave. “Look…”

She waits instead. It gives me enough time to rush through every single thing I wanted to say to her. Every promise I wish I could make her.

“I’m sorry.” I say instead. Sorry for kissing that girl, and for inviting her to see that. Sorry for not being able to tell her what I really want to say. Sorry that she was so true about what she said the other night: I don’t think you’re ready for that.

Her lips tighten. Without another words she turns to head out the door. This time I don’t try again. I just watch her and die a little inside.

***

It’s hard to find your flow again when you feel so irrevocably changed. The final 3 months of our final year fly by but as cheesy as it sounds sometimes it felt like one of those 2000s music videos where you’re standing still and everyone is rushing past you.

I still see YN around, and as weeks go by we go back to being in our own worlds. They no longer overlap like a venn diagram. She stops coming to parties and I try not to drive by her house any time I’m in her neighbourhood.

I hear she got asked to the school dance by someone. I carry forward my own stereotype of not committing and ask nobody.

On the outside my grades are still good and I continue to be a force on the field. I’m home more often for dinner and my family stops pestering me as much. When I go to parties I spend more time just hanging out with my mates than I do finding girls that lit a spark. It used to be that any girl could hold a candle to the last ones but now it felt like faking it when a girl whose name I barely remembered tried to seduce me into an empty room.

It’s like now that I’ve felt a true connection I couldn’t go back to just anything. Some days I hated it.

A part of me feels ridiculous because when I Google my symptoms most people just say it’s heartbreak. But how could I feel something like this when I never gave my heart away at all. When I’d kept it selfishly caged and insisted that I couldn’t part with it. Our English teacher had asked when teaching Romeo and Juliet is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.

I think I would rather have never loved at all.

***

TAG: @peachedfruit @eversincehs1 @loverofhsandallthings1d (taglist still open lmk)

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #fic #harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles series #high school!harry #ya harry styles #harry styles x you #lyrics #song requests #i am thinking about a pt3 just putting it out there #i think they deserve to grow up a little #i know this was pure angst but hope it was balanced w some sweeter moments #lol

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luxdove · 2 months ago

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Remember Me! Part 2

(Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader)

Thank you all for the support in the first part! It makes me happy that y’all actually enjoy the writing even though it really feels like I got no idea what I’m doing 😭

I’m very sorry that part 2 took so long I just couldn’t think of a way on how to end this part so it took literal WEEKS to get this out

Anyways if you haven’t seen part one here it is -> Part 1

As stated from the previous part, characters might be OOC but anyways enjoy the chapter!

CW: obsession(?)

You walked along the garden of the Spire of Knowledge, you went here to visit your dear friend Blueberry Milk Cookie- after all it’s been a while since you last seen him, always overworking himself to gain more new found knowledge for cookies to gain and learn

Perhaps you were too lost in your thoughts to realize a certain cookie creeped behind you, and you nearly jumped out of your dough when two hands were placed upon your eyes- not letting you see anything but darkness.

“Hmmm can you guess who I am?” A curious voice laced with teasing was heard behind you

“Hmm indeed I wonder who these unique hands were put upon my face belongs to” you said with a grin “Blueberry Milk Cookie perhaps? Or shall it be some mysterious other cookie with blue dough?”

“Why- I am offended!” Blueberry Milk Cookie said with a dramatic tone followed by some laughter “dear friend, why have you visited me? Did you miss me that much hm?” He asked with a smile full of grace

“Can I not visit an old friend?” You smiled back “my adventures have left me urging for more, but I shall not keep going without at least visiting my friends once more”

“Ah it’s those books that those cookies made” Blueberry Milk Cookie said, you have spoken to him that cookies from other kingdoms have been making books and out of curiosity you decided to read them thus inspiring you to adventure off and explore the new, that was your dream- to adventure the world and explore the new. “I can tell by your form of language dear friend, it’s been…modified in unique ways”

“Forsooth Blueberry Milk Cookie” you nodded with stars shined within your eyes. Blueberry Milk Cookie Smiled, that’s what always been unique about you, how your eyes would shine with stars in them whenever you were excited and how you would always be devoted to do things that would help cookies in need.

“Well it seems times do fly past by” Blueberry Milk Cookie said, it suddenly became night time; you guessed you were enjoying your talk a little too much to realized the time. “Perhaps I can offer you a room so you can rest here for the night?”

“Or we could talk more over some tea and then rest?” You smiled, after all you guys are Beast Cookies; you guys never require much sleep like regular cookies do

“Hmm, alright just try to find the dining room and I’ll be there shortly” Blueberry Milk Cookie said, after all the Spire of Knowledge is a pretty lonely place so he wasn’t even sure if he has a room ready, cleaned, or organized enough for you to be sleeping in.

You and Shadow Milk Cookie were walking in the gardens of the Spire of Deceit. You guys just came back from a trip because Shadow Milk Cookie wanted to pull a little….prank to a few cookie bystanders while you watched from a far. Anyways… this garden seems like nostalgia, but you can’t really put your crumb into why it is. You have told your old friend your adventures of Crispia so far, while Shadow Milk Cookie hums in acknowledgment, though at some parts he seemed to be concerned at what you went through since you fought some enemies like a regular cookie and not with your powers but since you’re still here in one piece he suppose he can glance over the issue.

However he also didn’t like the parts where you were spending time and bonding with his…false copy. Shadow Milk Cookie would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of such thing, but it’s alright now! He’s here! The star of the show! And you’re here along with him! The sidekick of the protagonist! So he will gladly take the chances to bond with you more whilst he has the chance.

He won’t let some weak measly cookies to mess up his script that he has for him and you. He didn’t noticed until now how his grip on his scepter hardened, he glanced at you since you’ve been quiet for some time. His face softens once more, your eyes shined with stars ;all though it’s a bit dimmer, (perhaps it’s because his hypnosis on you is still there? After all there is still blue swirls in your eyes) in them again as you looked around the garden, perhaps it was the nostalgia of how you and him used to walk in this very garden before he became corrupted and how you were gone on your adventures seeking more thrill than ruling a kingdom like how most of the others did.

Shadow Milk Cookie watched you as you seemed to get lost in the gardens wandering off too far like how a sheep would get lost in a forest, he chuckles as he guides you to where the door of the spire is. Even though it would have been a bit of fun entertainment watching you getting lost to the very same garden you used to walk daily, he would rather not let you get stuck and lost in the middle of nowhere.

You couldn’t help that you feel like all eyes have been laid upon you ever since you entered inside of the spire once more. The place has changed a lot since you were last here but then again the owner of the spire was gone for quite a long time neglecting its conditions. Only coming back sort of recently and the interior as well exterior of the place has significantly changed.

“Come on silly willy! I know you’re faster than that! Or has it been too long that you don’t remember your way around?” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled at you from the end of the hall, you were a couple feet behind him since you wanted to look at the changes.

“My apologies oh such knowledgeable sage” you said in a sarcastic tone as you rolled your eyes playfully “perhaps I should glue a map inside my mind so I know exactly where I’m going”

“Oh come on silly goose that’s not what I mean!” Shadow Milk Cookie exclaimed

“Master! Who is this…special individual of a cookie that is here?” Black Sapphire Cookie asked as he rushed towards Shadow Milk Cookie noticing an unfamiliar presence inside of the spire.

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” Shadow Milk Cookie said as he wags his finger to Black Sapphire Cookie. “This cookie here! Is a special guest of mine! So you must treat them with the upmost respect!”

You stared at Black Sapphire Cookie awkwardly while he smiles at you back as he bows to you in a greeting gesture.

“I see…well my lord, Candy Apple Cookie is preparing for the next act,” Black Sapphire Cookie informed while Shadow Milk Cookie hums.

“How enlightening…yes yes it’s all following the script perfectly!” Shadow Milk Cookie smiled uncannily. “Well go on now! We don’t want our special actors left with nothing to do!” Black Sapphire Cookie nodded as he walks away seemingly fading away from the distance.

“Well now that is covered!” Shadow Milk Cookie said as he snaps his neck towards you “I assume you have some questions yes?”

“Indeed” you said vaguely, after all you weren’t really used to his corrupted form at all, but Shadow Milk Cookie is fine with that! He is really! It would just take time and patience for you to come back to his side where you belong! And he’s alright to spend his time with you even if you are confuse with everything, who knows maybe he should spill in a few more false memories into your dreams since you seem to be regaining them again.

He will use his advantage now that you’re in his spire; after all, he can control everything that is inside! What makes you think he can’t control your dreams? The longer you stay here the more disoriented your memories will be, and he will gladly take that chance to make the memories favorable to his side and not his fraud of a cookie (Pure Vanilla Cookie). All he needs is you to stay in this spire. Although…he does feel bad for doing this but he has too! He didn’t want to lose the very friend that has guided him and actually had a bond with oh so long ago.

You and Shadow Blueberry Milk Cookie…huh that’s odd you swore he had a jester outfit on not his pre corrupted sage uniform. Anyways you and Blueberry Milk Cookie walked inside of the Spire of Deceit Knowledge. Your eyes shined once more like how they used to as you happily asked your questions and continue to tell more stories of your adventures. Blueberry Milk Cookie hums while he smiles at you, he loves stories especially if it’s coming from you. You seemed to fall into the deception oh so easily…but that’s what he likes, since it makes things easier for him.

You failed to acknowledge that a few shadowy hands slowly started creeping over you as they quickly grabbed your limbs and dragged you into a pit of shadows. You screamed as saw how Blueberry Milk Cookie looked at you solemnly before your vision went black. This is for the best! He swears on it! You just need to drown into deceit like he has and everything will become perfect!

It was inevitable, after all it wasn’t like anyone would have known this would happen. You came rushing back once you heard the news of a huge war breaking out. A war against the Virtues.

You didn’t know how this happened, you believed your friends were all in good shape mentally and physically, so how did this corruption began? You did not know. One moment you were enjoying yourself when you visited them as often as you could, the next you see…all of this happening.

You finally made your way to the area and oh my witches was it terrible. It’s safe to say that jam of cookies littered all over the place, broken pieces of them too; all the while the Virtues were up in the skies entertained for what chaos they have started.

“My my if it isn’t Y/N Cookie that I see! Come, come! Join us darling!” Eternal Sugar Cookie said with joys as she smiled from her cloud

“Y/N Cookie…come join us…for resisting the fate in the end…will all be futile…for you shall see the harsh reality and accept such fate” Mystic Flour Cookie offered as her closed eyes gave out a small solemn smile

“It’s so much fun seeing them all crumble like little bugs! Join us Y/N Cookie! Together we will crumble anyone who passed by!” Burning Spice Cookie roared

“…” Silent Salt Cookie stared but you knew the meaning behind the silence, the silent message that spoke “yes…join us Y/N cookie, for we shall rule over the world and destroy the impurity that has corrupted the land”

“Come on silly Willy! Don’t you want some fun? This is an adventure you don’t wanna miss! Enjoy yourself! Let the corruption consume you!” Shadow Milk Cookie exclaimed as he enjoys himself from the destruction they all caused.

You stared at all of them, you truly don’t know what to say for yourself. You shall not allow yourself to fall into corruption like your dear friends so you raised up your lance towards them. All of them shocked of such actions, indeed they thought just a few words of them would have at least convinced you to join them but it seems like they would have to put a little more work into it.

“Now now Y/N Cookie why don’t we put the lance down? You wouldn’t want to fight us would you?” Eternal Sugar Cookie asked as her half lidded eyes fluttered.

Your eyes focused on all five of them, truly you didn’t want to fight against them but it really seems like your only option. Although your eyes were focused and you were in battle ready stance, it was arguably noticeable that you were scared, fearing for your life, and being a coward of such. You failed to noticed your soul jam slowly changing

“Come on you silly goose! Surely you don’t want to fight all five of us? Whats the fun in that? Just put the weapon down and join us! We’ll have a huge celebration and I! Will show you a story of an adventure that is most ingenious to tell!” Shadow Milk Cookie tried to convince you, after all he was your closest dear friend! Surely he can get it through your head that you should just relax and join them! It really wasn’t that hard…really!

“No!” You exclaimed “I shall not be corrupted by such greed! If it’s a fight I must take then it’s a fight I shall have!” You exclaimed as you raised your lance “I Y/N Cookie declare upon my honor! That I will stop this blinded greed of all of you!” Your Soul jam, the virtue of ⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ shined bright as you started heading towards them with your lance.

“Ya know, you could have gotten the easy way out…” Burning Spice Cookie grumbled. “But it’s alright, I’LL CRUMBLE YOU A BIT IF IT MEANS FOR YOU TO SET YOUR MIND STRAIGHT!” He laughed as he starts charging towards you along with Silent Salt Cookie who said no words but his actions showed what he wants to say.

“Hmph all actions are all futile…when will you learn to accept the truth Y/N Cookie?” Mystic Flour Cookie said as she also joins in the fight as well as Eternal Sugar Cookie, obviously hurt by your actions but they were all going to fight you if it means the possibility for you to join them.

But Shadow Milk Cookie stood there in the skies still, he didn’t have it in his heart to be one of the reasons why you would crumble right here and right now; it would break him even further. So all he did was watched as you tried your best to stand your ground as you fought the other Virtues.

Truly it was a miracle that you even survived this long in a fight with 4 other cookies that held the same power level as you. It had been days and nights and you all were still fighting. Grunting and panting as the exhaustion slowly creeped in for both sides, but it was evident that none would voluntarily falter.

It definitely took a very long time before your wounds started to take effect on you as you rested on one knee, one eye closed due to a head injury on that side of the head, wounds piled up one after another, jam slowly creeped out. You slowly tried standing back up with the help of your lance.

“I….” You panted as you slowly raised your lance towards them, they looked somewhat perfectly fine compared to you; The other cookies indeed have a lot of wounds on them but nothing as bad as your current condition. “shall not falter…” you whispered but they all heard it, but your legs trembled as you went back on one knee, head lowered as your hand glued your lance still.

“When will you get it through your head darling?” Eternal Sugar Cookie yawned as she glanced at you, surely you’re not dead yet right?

“Hm…why don’t you accept reality Y/N Cookie? After all it’ll all be futile no matter what you do…” Mystic Flour Cookie said ashamed that you still haven’t joined them

“Y/N Cookie” Shadow Milk Cookie finally said sternly, as you tried to raise your head to look but you really couldn’t; Shadow Milk Cookie sighed as he floats towards you, putting his hand under your chin so you can look at him. Dear witches were you in critical condition, he started doubting that you would even survive after this- you were spilling a lot of jam but nothing too concerning. “It really isn’t that hard to fall…won’t you join us for the adventure dear?” He said with a sly grin, but you barked in empty laughter.

“I may have falter now…but I’m willing to risk my condition to have you all fall!” You said with a solemn smile as you stabbed your lance on the ground. Suddenly forks began falling upon the other Virtues, all chained together as a seed of a silver tree began growing to fully seal them inside of an everlasting prison.

Days, weeks, months have passed by. You have visited your once old friends that you betrayed them by helping the witches to seal them inside of a tree that will always be guarded. In mind, you knew this is what was best, that they were too far down and corrupted to see the faults in their decision.

Yet in your heart, it was filled with heavy guilt. You spent your passing days in an endless cycle of the guilt following behind you like a parasite. You decided that perhaps you should do something about it.

You begged the witches to remove your memories of your friends, and erase your mind of such guilt of the past. Let your mind be filled with dreams full of joyous adventures; ones that were piled with laughter and chivalry to keep. And that you shall be sealed inside of a tower in case you somehow become corrupted just like your friends have.

Thus the witches out of sympathy, granted your wish. Informing the faerie cookies to seal you inside of a tower that was full of books up to your liking, so when you wake up knowing nothing; your mind have been filled with adventures of rich stories and the blissful ignorance of the truth.

Of course your voluntary imprisonment inside of a lonely tower was interrupted one day by a group of adventurers breaking down the poor door…

“You…COOKIES have ruined my script once again!” Shadow Milk Cookie said in pure angered as the cookies have found a way to bring you back in their side.

To say the least it wasn’t an easy process considering you were spoon fed with lies upon lies by Shadow Milk Cookie. Drowned in too much deceit to the point you couldn’t tell what was the truth or not. But worry not! Pure Vanilla Cookie had a plan, of course he felt bad that he had to trick you, a fellow friend of his, but it was for a good cause- and rightfully so, because he was able to show you the real truth and get you to come back.

“Shadow Milk Cookie Esquire…” you started, the language of the old rolls off of your tongue just perfectly as the day before you lost your pure innocence of your past truth. “Thy must pondered such a question once more” Shadow Milk Cookie looking confuse as you continued. “Although…I lost such memories and received them once more I shan’t off the feeling of continuing such adventures-“ you couldn’t even finished your sentence before Shadow Milk Cookie flew at the speed of light and started gripping your shoulders firmly as if he didn’t want you to leave.

“No…NO!” Shadow Milk Cookie yelled in your face, it was from pure anger yes but you can hear the slight worry. “You…and your dreams of adventures! Look where it landed you Y/N Cookie don’t you see it?!” Shadow Milk Cookie yelled louder trying to make a point clear as sugar glass. “The dream is dead- it was- it was just mere pure delusions! there is no point of continuing further! Why on earthbread would you want to adventure more! Have you not seen the damage it has caused?”

“Tis was a dream we all cherished hast it not?” You asked with a smile, indeed- although the dream wasn’t an adventure, the dream was to have the reality where all cookies were equal and lived with harmony. All Virtues agreed to such a sweet innocent dream- yet unfortunately all have fallen to corruption except one, you. Shadow Milk Cookie couldn’t believe such words, it was a foolish dream to wish upon anyways…yet a small part of him does wish that dream to become possible. For he too, had a dream- all the virtues had their own separate dream. While yours was to seek and embark an adventure to live to tell the tales no cookie would ever venture off to. Shadow Milk Cookie’s dream was to have a friend…a friend who would understand him and cherish him for being himself- not as a person who knows all knowledge and was faced with the harsh reality constantly…just a simple friend who would understand him as himself…and that person was you. Oh how his heart would shatter if perhaps one day he sees you again but in extremely poor and vulnerable conditions or well dead perhaps…that one day you couldn’t do anything- he just wanted to save you and not go through the sufferings and consequences of having a dream. For he knows such small dreams can’t come true, for they were all foolish to think and believe it would.

“Let thy continue forth, the adventure of achieving the dream…the dream that twinkles oh so far, far away- where stars align and where it’s believed to be impossible to reach,” you spoke in a soft voice. “While the end is…inevitable…and thy might be a fool and it could all end to be hopeless…shan’t it be foolish of me to not try and believe to continue down the righteous path of the journey?”

“Hah…” Shadow Milk Cookie started chuckling. “AHAHAAHAHAA” he placed his hand over his eyes as he hunched over and laughed. “Well if you say so…I won’t stop you Y/N Cookie,” he smiled but then looked at you sternly “why don’t we duel to prove your strength in that dream then shall we? Just like old times hm?” He smiled uncanny as the other cookies started to get ready but you held out your hand to signal them to pause.

“No my friends…” you started “this is a duel I must fight by I alone,” you readied up with your lance.

“My name is Y/N Cookie! And I, Y/N Cookie, declare upon my honor: this lance shall end that hopeless, forgotten dream!!” You raised your lance, your soul jam shining once more,and started running towards Shadow Milk cookie as he readies his staff and starts attacking you.

(Bear with me I can’t do fighting scenes 😭) the fight continued days and nights on end, never ending it seems, each beam targeted to you was deflected; yet every stab of your lance was dodged easily. Exhaustion slowly started hitting yet your thirst of the dream was your motivation, the hope that made your heart beat and it was your strength to keep pushing forward. Shadow Milk Cookie slowly showed clear signs of that exhaustion.

“Hah…hah…” Shadow Milk Cookie panted, it was clear from the appearance he was tired yet you stood there sternly, prepared for any incoming attacks. Shadow Milk Cookie looked…conflicted to say the least, he wants you to come back to his side but he’s not that powerful as of right now. After all he went through all this trouble and he finally met you again! He didn’t want to lose that chance again, he would be oh so lonely…and you were the only cookie that truly understood him more than anyone! So what’s the other better option?

“Y/N Cookie…I WILL come back…this won’t be the last time we meet and next time I’ll make sure…nothing would trick you into coming back to their side…” Shadow Milk Cookie said tiredly as a portal opened behind him as he and his followers left. The group cheered in celebration, yet you stood there and slowly turned towards them so you can face them.

“I shall introduce to thee once again…my name is Y/N Cookie! And I, Y/N Cookie shall embark the journey and dream to become the best knight of all of earthbread!” You smiled as your eyes shined along with the stars once more with your hand gripped your lance as firm as possible.

Fin

I would be lying if I said I finished a good majority of this like weeks ago but I couldn’t figure out how to type out the last section so I apologize 😭 I must admit this isn’t really…the best

Epilogue -> here

Tag list: @donnie-is-da-best @floweriya @haveneulalie @isak-sillydemon @f4nd0msl0v3r @sillysprinkel @kur1kur1chan

#crk #shadow milk cookie x y/n #shadow milk x reader #shadow milk crk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk x y/n #shadow milk cookie x reader #cr kingdom #cookie run kingdom #shadow milk x you

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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[5k] neither of you considered the possibility of your family and friends finding out about your relationship. however, in a series of events, they discover you and quinn are together. but it's fine as long as luke doesn't find out, right?

part one // series masterlist

When the season started, you thought it would be easier to hide your relationship from everyone you knew. Never once did either you or Quinn expect to be caught.

And never once did you think the first person to learn about you and Quinn would be Trevor fucking Zegras of all people.

Before the semester had even started, it had been an unspoken agreement between you and Quinn that you would fly out during reading week. It would be difficult to avoid questions—mostly from Luke who would be offended you weren’t going to fly out to New Jersey—but it was doable. It just took a few weeks of you dropping hints and clues about flying out to Canada to your best friend for him to not really question it when you said you were going to visit your brother.

And after months away, it was a fucking dream to have this week with Quinn, to settle that uneasiness in your chest that had been lingering since you left the lakehouse that summer.

You both knew the hockey schedule was insane. You knew neither of you could really leave his apartment. But with a string of games at home for the week, it seemed worth having that week together.

You didn’t think anything could go wrong.

“What are you thinking in that pretty head of yours?”

Your fingers paused the random shapes they were tracing on his bare chest, moving to lift your head to find him already staring at you with a fond look.

“You. Us. This. Everything.” You listed off, your lips twitching upwards when he rolled his eyes. “What? You asked and I answered.”

“I think you’re holding out on me,” Quinn retorted, his hand squeezing where it rested on your hip. “Wanna share what things you were thinking about? More specifically, those thoughts about us.”

You snorted. “Get your head out of the gutter, Hughes.”

“Maybe you need to get your head down there,” he countered and, before a witty response could even pass your lips, he had flipped you both over until you were laying on your back with him looming over you. “It’s fun down here, I think you’d like it.”

You tucked your lip between your teeth. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed as his fingers traced up and down your bare thigh, a small grin on his face when he felt your body shiver in response. “Gave me a few ideas too.”

You swallowed harshly as you noted the dark glint in his eyes, the way your stomach twisted in desire as his fingers kept moving upwards. “Like what?”

Quinn’s smirk widened a little. “Like—”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Your brows furrowed in confusion, feeling as though your body had been doused in cold water as you sat up a little. “Were you expecting someone?”

Quinn frowned, sitting up himself as he tried not to show his clear annoyance at the interruption. “No, I told the boys to call me if they needed me outside of practice. I don’t know who that could be—”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“You should probably go get that,” you murmured, trying to bite back your smile as Quinn grumbled something under his breath.

“If it’s any of the boys, I’m making them do bag skates at practice,” he huffed, crawling out of the sheets and reaching for an abandoned pair of sweatpants on the floor before he left the bedroom.

He could feel his annoyance brittle when the person knocked for a third time, this time hitting the door over and over again until Quinn reached for the handle and yanked the door open.

The last person he expected to see was Trevor Zegras on the other side, grinning at him like it was a totally normal thing for him to be on Quinn’s doorstep on a random Tuesday.

“There’s my favourite Hughes!”

Quinn blinked once. And then twice. And then a third time just to make sure he was actually standing there.

“What the fuck, Zegras?”

“I wanted to surprise you! We didn’t have anything on before the game on Thursday so I thought I’d head up a day earlier than the others and—” Trevor paused, seeming to catch on to the way the older boy was glaring at him. “Geez, this wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

“I—” Quinn took a deep breath. “And what reaction were you expecting?”

“At least a hug, I mean—” Trevor moved to take a step forward, his arms open like he was going to reach to hug the other boy, only to pause. It was like he was finally taking in Quinn’s attire for the first time—or the lack thereof—before his eyes focused on the blossoming bruises along his neck and collarbone.

It was scary the way the grin spread across his face.

Quinn frowned. “What? Why are you doing that with your face?”

“You got a girl in here, Huggy?” Trevor grinned, not even giving Quinn a chance to react before he was pushing his way into the flat. “Aw shit, Jack never told me you were seeing someone! Is it new? What’s her name? Is it a dude? Listen, I don’t judge! I’ve seen the edits with you and Pettersson.”

Quinn blinked. “I—what?”

He was still standing in shock, trying to process the words that just left Trevor’s lips before he realised the boy was walking deeper into his flat. His eyes widened, his brain shutting out whatever random rambling that was coming out of Trevor’s mouth as he tried to reach out to stop the boy—but it was useless.

It was like the whole world froze when Trevor shoved the bedroom door open. His words came to an abrupt stop, his jaw hanging open as he looked at you sprawled on Quinn’s bed with a sheet covering your clearly-otherwise naked body. He looked at your face, then back to Quinn before they settled on you again.

“YOU’RE BANGING LADY HUGHES?!”

Quinn winced. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“I…oh my god…you…WHAT?” Trevor spluttered out, looking between the two of you like you were aliens to him. “How long has this been going on? Why the fuck did no one tell me? What the fuck?”

“Well, we can’t tell you something nobody else knows,” you supplied with a sheepish expression.

His eyes widened further. “Nobody else knows? Like at all?”

You shook your head.

His face instantly brightened. “So I’m the first?”

“Not by choice,” Quinn grumbled under his breath.

“You can’t tell anyone, Trev,” you said, a pleading look on your face. “Especially not Luke. We are gonna tell him…just not yet. You cannot tell a soul, not even Jack.”

“I won’t. Scout’s promise.”

Quinn glared at him. “Were you even a boy scout?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“I—” Quinn just shook his head. “Can you just…wait outside whilst we get dressed?”

“Aw, I knew you’d be happy I was here, Huggy,” Trevor beamed, patting the older boy’s cheek before he bounced out of the room, most likely helping himself to whatever was in Quinn’s fridge.

Quinn turned to you, looking exasperated but you just grinned.

“Guess that’s one less person we have to worry about hiding from?”

He just sighed deeply in response.

…

Trevor ended up keeping his word, not telling a soul. Though, he did go out of his way to bug you and Quinn—mostly Quinn—about your relationship.

You would have thought the situation with Trevor would have prompted the two of you to be more careful. You thought it would have been your lesson learnt that not even the season being fully underway would be distracting enough for you to be as laid back as you were. You thought it was the small reality check you needed.

As it would turn out, it wasn’t even two weeks later when the next slip up happened.

It was a stupid, drunken promise that led you to the Hughes’ family home in Ann Arbor, bright and early on a Saturday. When the boys had revealed to you that all three batches of the cookies they had meant to make for a charity sale the university were holding had burnt to a crisp because all of them were incapable of baking, you had offered up your amateur baking skills to make a few batches.

You were drunk and emotionally compromised and it was really hard to say no to the pleading eyes of Ethan Edwards.

However, with your kitchen barely being big enough to hold two people, Ellen had kindly offered her kitchen for you to use. Plus, she had been wanting to catch up with you since the semester had started, especially considering it was the longest time you and Luke had been apart.

It was somewhere in between the second and third batch when your phone started ringing on the counter.

“Hey Ellen, could you grab that for me?” You called out over your shoulder, your hands preoccupied in rolling small balls of cookie dough to place on the tray. “Just answer it and put it on speaker.”

There was a beat of hesitation. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, just place it down on the counter beside me,” you said offhandedly, frowning at the batch of cookies as Ellen pressed the little green button and let the ringing stop.

You were elbow deep in a bowl of batter when a familiar voice echoed through the Hughes’ kitchen.

“Hey babe, quick question: did you say you were coming up for Christmas break or not?”

The whole room fell silent as you looked over your shoulder, finding Ellen already staring at you. She had an amused glint in her eyes, her lips twitching upwards in a smile that was a little mischievous—it reminded you so much of Jack. You dared a glance at the doorway where Jim stood, eyebrows raised in surprise but something quite happy in his expression.

“Uh, can I call you back? I just have to…deal with something real quick.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just…” You trailed off again, your cheeks burning as Ellen and Jim stared at you. “I’ll call back in ten minutes when I’m finished with these cookies, okay?”

“Okay, miss you.”

“Miss you too.”

The sound of the call cutting sounded through the kitchen and none of you said anything for a few seconds. And much to your surprise, it was Jim who spoke first.

“God dammit, kid, you cost me twenty bucks!”

You blinked. “Huh?”

Ellen smiled fondly, taking a few steps until she was beside you. She gave your elbow a soft squeeze, something knowing in her gaze. “I always knew you’d end up with one of my boys. Jim was just convinced it would be Jack.”

Jim huffed. “I bet your parents twenty bucks each.”

Your eyes widened. “My parents?”

“We aren’t blind, kid,” Jim retorted, something soft and fond in his voice.

Ellen snorted. “Clearly you are since you thought it would be Jack.”

“I—” You started but you weren’t even sure what to say.

Ellen turned back to you, smiling like the whole conversation was normal. “I always knew it would be Quinn. I saw the way he looked at you, even when you were young.”

Your brows furrowed. “Quinn barely liked me when we were kids.”

And Ellen just laughed like that was the funniest thing you could have said. It wasn’t exactly the way you wanted either of your parents—Quinn’s and your own—to find out about your relationship.

But, unlike Trevor, Ellen and Jim understood the unspoken rule and just how…complicated the situation was, despite Ellen’s insistence that her eldest son had been crushing on you for a lot longer than you believed.

Nobody tell Luke.

…

It was your fault for leaving the room.

When you had enrolled in Michigan, there was a small part of you that was worried college would be the thing to tear you and Luke apart. In retrospect, it was a stupid thought to have. But you were young and scared and entering this unknown era of your life, and you just wanted to cling onto what you knew, what you were used to—onto Luke.

You realised pretty early on that the thought was stupid when the hockey team had practically adopted you. You were an extension of Luke, but it never felt like that. They were your friends as much as they were Luke’s, and you found yourself fond of these boys who had wiggled their way into your heart.

Knowing you still had them despite Luke being in New Jersey made coming back alone so much easier.

However, the life of a D1 athlete was an intense one, along with the fact classes were getting harder and assignments were getting longer. But the boys had practically demanded you come over at least once a week so you didn’t ‘forget who your new best friends are’, as they so kindly liked to say over and over again. Mostly just to annoy Luke.

It was one of those nights. You had made your way to their house after your last class, faceplanting down onto the couch until the group of you had decided on ordering pizza. You had some random comedy movie running on in the background, just senseless noise to accompany whatever random debates Ethan had managed to drag up. It was nice and easy and relaxing, and made you feel a little more sane in what was turning out to be a gruelling year.

You were in the middle of showing Rutger a random video Jack had sent you of Luke decking it on the ice during practice when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” you told them without missing a beat, leaving your phone in their hands as you collected the pizzas from the delivery man.

What you weren’t expecting was to come back and find all of them staring at you with creepy matching grins on their faces.

You froze, eyeing them suspiciously. “What? What happened?”

“You are a sneaky lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Rutger spoke up, looking far too smug over something you were still in the dark over.

You glanced between them before your eyes settled on Rutger again, your confusion clear on your face.

Rutger continued, “when were you gonna tell us you have a boyfriend?”

Your body froze. “I don’t know what—”

“And when the fuck were you gonna tell us it’s Quinn Hughes?” Mark jumped in, turning your phone around to show a picture you and Quinn had taken during your last visit.

He had taken the photo in an elevator mirror, your back to the camera as you wrapped yourself around the boy. But he was grinning, so big and unbothered and it was one of your favourite sights. It was one of your favourite photos of him.

And it certainly wasn’t the photo you left them with.

“Did you go through my phone?” You finally managed to blurt out when words found you again. But the damage was done and you knew there wasn’t much you could do considering the last time they were aware, you barely spoke to the oldest Hughes brother.

“I can’t believe you kept this from us!” Ethan huffed out, shaking his head like he was genuinely offended. He probably was. He tended to be the more dramatic one.

“I can’t believe Luke allowed this,” Mark snorted.

You flashed them a sheepish smile.

“Oh, dude,” Rutger murmured with a shake of his head.

“You can’t tell him. You can’t tell anyone.” You shifted in your spot, something a little desperate and pleading in your voice, and it was enough for the boys to sober up a bit. Become a little more serious. “We didn’t wanna tell anyone yet and I just…”

“We won’t tell a soul,” Mark reassured you, a soft smile on his face that eased some of the anxiety in your chest.

“As long as you tell us everything,” Ethan added, a knowing smirk on his face. “And I mean everything because how the fuck does any of the Hughes brothers have game?”

And you couldn’t help but snort in response.

…

Jack didn’t accidentally find out more than he put it together.

It wasn’t often that the Devils and the Canucks met during the season but when they did, it was a family affair. You had decided to join the Hughes parents on their trip up to Vancouver, each of you wearing your hybrid Canucks/Devils jerseys that Ellen had custom made for these occasions.

The game itself went by as you expected. There was a lot of media coverage on the ‘Hughes Bowl’, meaning each of the boys had been dragged into interview after interview before the game. It was a good game, a clean one too. You tried not to wince too much when the final buzzer blared through the arena and it was a Devils win.

You knew Quinn would be a little gutted, even if he wouldn’t fully show it in front of his family.

The group of you had decided to head out to one of the Canucks’ favourite bars, something that Luke had whined a little about considering Ellen and Jim insisted they join. But it was wholesome and sweet and made you crave the summer weeks a little more than the current early January weather.

You were settled at the bar, laughing at Jack’s attempt to catch the bartender’s attention to order another round of shots he had dragged you into doing when you felt the warmth of another body settle beside you. For a short moment, you smiled thinking that maybe Quinn had snuck away from whatever conversation he had been stuck in with Petey and Jim. But when you turned your head, you found a stranger standing beside you.

“Hey gorgeous,” he smiled, and something instantly unsettled deep within your chest.

“Hi,” you replied, short and blunt as you tried to shift away but there wasn’t much space by the crowded bar.

“Hey, where are you going? I just wanted to chat,” he said with an easy smile on his face, his hand resting on your elbow and you instantly jerked away from his hold.

“I’m not interested,” you answered.

He laughed and the sound grated on your nerves. “That’s a bit presumptuous that I wanted something, sweetheart. Think you’re all that, huh?”

“Just leave me alone,” you said as you took a step back. A part of you wanted to turn your head and try to catch Jack’s attention, try to ask for help. Another part of you didn’t want to look away from this man. You didn’t trust him.

He huffed out a chuckle. “Don’t be like that—”

“She said no. Fuck off now.”

A mix of relief and surprise washed over you when you felt a body settle behind you, and you didn’t need to turn your head to know it was Quinn standing behind you, but you still did just to settle the tightness in your chest.

His face was set in a blank expression, but you recognised it well enough. When he got angry—truly angry—he didn’t have a frown on his face or a crease between his brows. His face just looked…blank. Like he was so lost in his own rage that no expression could really encapsulate how he felt.

You rarely saw it. He rarely showed this side of him.

His hands were on your waist, pulling you closer to his body as his eyes never left the stranger’s. He tilted his head to the side when the man opened his mouth again, and that seemed enough to shut him up again.

“Go.”

The man decided to do the smart thing and scuttle into the crowd of people, disappearing with a blink of an eye until neither you nor Quinn could see him. But even with him gone, you couldn’t shake the uneasiness in your chest.

A second passed before Quinn moved, now standing in front of you with your face in his hands as he tore your gaze away from the crowd to look at him instead. His brows were furrowed together in concern, his lips turned downwards as he glanced over you to make sure you were okay.

“Hey, you with me?” He murmured, his voice soft and comforting and you clung onto it.

“Mhm,” you nodded, flashing him a shaky smile.

His frown deepened. “Don’t lie to me—”

“I’m not,” you told him honestly, your hands fisting the material of his shirt like you were scared he was going to step away. “I just…you make me feel better.”

His face softened and the last of his resolve went out the window as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you close until you were pressed into his chest. You nuzzled your face against his sweater, letting the familiar smell of his cologne wash over you and calm the last of your nerves.

And when you opened your eyes, you found Jack standing a few feet away from you. Quinn hadn’t noticed he was there and Jack made no move to announce his presence. But he gave you this smile, one that was kind and knowing and felt like a stamp of approval you didn’t know you wanted or needed from the middle Hughes brother.

But Jack smiled at the sight of you and his older brother, raising his shot glass like a promise to keep your secret and knocking it back without a moment of hesitation.

…

You had no plans on telling Luke about you and Quinn the night it actually ended up happening.

There was a mutual agreement between you both that you couldn’t keep it from Luke any longer. It wasn’t fair on him to be left in the dark, it wasn’t fair on you two having to sneak around and it wasn’t fair on the people who already knew having to keep your secret.

And with the normal season coming to an end, it felt like a clock was running against you to tell your best friend you were dating his brother before you were all locked in the lakehouse for the summer together.

When you had imagined the moment in your head, it was the three of you. You would sit Luke down, explain your feelings and hope that he wouldn’t feel too betrayed. You imagined he would say something stupid like ‘yeah, I already know, losers’ and you could live your lives happily ever after.

It was probably never going to happen like that, but you certainly didn’t expect it to happen like this.

After a rough season and a streak of rough games for Luke in particular, the news of the Devils’ head coach stepping down felt inevitable and, truthfully, it was a relief when you saw the news come through. Luke had called you, far too smug and giddy for someone whose team was technically without a key member—but you guessed it was mostly second-hand from the other boys.

You swore you could hear Jack and Nico talking about popping open a bottle of champagne in the background when he called.

It felt like an unspoken agreement for you to fly out when Luke told you about a huge party they were throwing that weekend. Not for the recent retirement, obviously. If anyone asked, it was a simple bonding experience for the boys to motivate them through the last leg of the season.

And somewhere between the beer pong game Luke dragged you into and the really strong margarita Simon made you, you had snuck off into a small bathroom to call the one person your drunk self craved to see.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

You grinned at the sight of your boyfriend’s face on your screen, his hair tucked under a beanie as he walked around his apartment. “Hey, baby.”

He took in your flushed cheeks and glossy eyes, snorting a little. “Having fun?”

“So much fun,” you giggled before letting out a heavy sigh. “I wish you were here.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised, like he was counting the days. He probably was. You knew you were too. “Spring break, remember?”

“Hmm, I can’t wait to have you all to myself,” you mused, sinking back against the wall of the bath you were currently leaning on. “I’m sick of sharing my boyfriend with Petey.”

Quinn laughed. “I thought you loved Petey.”

You sighed deeply. “I do love that big, blond Swede.”

He shook his head in amusement. “I’ll let him know. I’m sure he loves you too.”

You perked up a little. “Really?”

“Really, baby.”

“Woah,” you breathed out, your eyes falling shut as you leaned against the cool ceramic of the bathtub. “I know I said it before…but I really wish you were here.”

Quinn’s face softened. “Me too, babe. Me too.”

You opened your mouth to say something, probably some random drunken thought that you felt the insistent need to share with your boyfriend before knocking on the bathroom door interrupted you.

You froze when you heard Luke calling your name on the other side.

Quinn frowned at the way your face paled a little. “Baby, what’s happened? Who is it?”

You heard shuffling on the other side before Luke’s muffled voice sounded through the door. “Are you talking to Quinn?”

You could have hung up. You could have told him you were talking to someone else entirely. You could have done a million and one other things that made more sense. However, for some fucking reason, your drunk brain panicked.

“I don’t know a Quinn!”

Quinn furrowed his brows in confusion.

There was a pause on the other side of the door before Luke tested the handle, finding the door unlocked. He let himself in, standing by the entrance as he stared down at you curled up beside the bathtub with a frown.

“Why are you hiding in here? I need another beer pong partner and Holtz sucks so—”

And because the universe liked to fuck with you, it seemed like there was some sort of lag on Quinn’s side because his voice was echoing through the small bathroom before you could even warn him about Luke’s presence.

“Baby, what’s happening? You’re starting to scare me.”

Your eyes widened as silence suffocated the small room. You looked at Quinn before looking at Luke, who was looking at your phone with a mixed expression.

“Did…did he just call you baby?”

“No?”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “What’s going on? Why are you on the phone to Quinn? And why are you hiding in the bathroom? And since when do you talk to Quinn?”

You flashed him a sheepish smile. “Since we’ve been dating,”

Luke blinked before he snorted. “No, I’m being serious.”

You swallowed. “So am I.”

Luke let out another laugh, but this one was a little less convincing. “I…no, you’re messing with me. Jack put you both up to this, right?”

You stayed silent.

“Right?” Luke asked again, a little more desperate.

Your eyes shifted down to Quinn—the lag thankfully gone—before you looked back up at Luke with a nervous expression. You shifted so your phone screen was now facing him, watching as his eyes dropped down to his brother’s face.

“We wanted to tell you—”

“You,” Luke sneered, his eyes narrowed. “You have been planning this.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“He’s been planning this!” Luke said with such confidence, though that might have been the mix of rum and tequila talking. “He’s been planning this since the sour patch kids!”

Quinn shot his brother a look. “You think I’ve been planning to date your best friend since you were seven?”

“Yes.”

You didn’t have to look at the screen to know Quinn was rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

“How long has this been going on?”

“A while.”

“That’s not an answer,” Luke frowned before looking at you.

“Since last summer,” you whispered.

“Summer?!” Luke spluttered. “You two have been dating for eight months and no one knew?”

You winced.

Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Who knows?”

“Just Trevor,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders.

He deflated, blinking. “Oh, well I guess—”

“And your parents and my parents and Ethan and Rutger and Mark and Jack,” you blurted out quickly, your cheeks heating up as Luke stared at you like he didn’t know you.

“So everyone but me?”

“Luke—”

“Everyone but me knows?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“This is just a bad dream,” Luke murmured to himself before nodding his head, a little more confidently. “No, yes. This is a bad dream influenced by Nemo’s shitty bartending skills. A bad dream where my older brother is stealing my best friend. It isn’t real at all.”

You blinked. “Luke—”

“Just need to play out the rest of the bad dream and I’ll wake up,” he continued muttering away as he reached for the door handle, ready to leave the small, cramped bathroom. “Just a bad dream.”

“Luke—”

But he was already gone before you could say anything.

“Well, he’s gonna have a brutal reality check in the morning.”

You turned your phone to glare at your boyfriend. Though, much to your surprise, he was grinning in response.

“Quinn, this is serious.”

“Baby, I know.” His face seemed to soften a little, but the smile remained. “But now he knows. This is what we wanted. And now we don’t have to hide.”

Your annoyance melted away at his revelation, a warmth settling in your chest that only Quinn seemed to bring. “Stop being cute.”

“I’m being realistic, baby. Now you can come up any time you want.”

You snorted. “I still have classes.”

“I’ll find a way around those too. You can’t stop me, baby, gonna tell the whole world how much I love you.”

Your face softened with a smile. “I love you too.”

Quinn’s smile mirrored yours. “Now go make sure my brother doesn’t do something stupid whilst he thinks he’s in a dream. Mum will kill me if his face is plastered on a tabloid in the morning.”

“Pretty sure Jack will go out of his way to make sure that happens.”

“Please don’t let it happen.”

You gave him a mock salute. “Aye, aye, captain.”

He shook his head with a fond expression. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I love Petey.”

Quinn snorted. “Yeah, I love him too. Get in line.”

#quinn hughes #nhl #vancouver canucks #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot

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onceinablueberrymoon · 3 months ago

Text

(cheers) to the future | salesman (recruiter) x reporter!reader

next: scavenger hunt | intermission (mild nsfw) scenario: the final game has finished, and player 456 is the winner. after signing off, reporter!reader visits the recruiter for a well-deserved, celebratory dinner. setting: in seoul during season 1, directly after the squid game between gi-hun and sang-woo (my other beloved rip) warnings: (mostly?) light, fluffy smut; (they truly love each other!); fem!reader; no use of y/n; second person POV; salesman is referred to as recruiter; reader ranks about equal to recruiter in the games’ hierarchy; brief mention of alcohol; just in case, minors dni! word count: 1.1k notes: baby’s first nsfw, i hope it lives up to your expectations :’) please comment and let me know what you think of this, i appreciate any feedback ♡

you can read part 1 here! and happy lunar new year, everyone! 🌙 borders by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics-archive!

“No! Sang-woo, no…”

A cry rang throughout the arena.

“And with a bittersweet ending to this gripping fight between childhood friends, the 33rd edition of the Games has concluded. We will return shortly with the highlights of Player 456’s journey to victory. Our coverage will begin in three hours. Thank you for watching.”

Bowing to the camera, you remained frozen in place until the director gave the all-clear. You sighed. The final game didn’t turn out the way you – or anyone, really – expected. The once cheerful, happy-go-lucky man had won because of his friend’s sudden sacrifice. Surely, there would be lots of questions from viewers around the world. You pinched your nose – just thinking about it gave you a headache.

At least you were on break for a couple of hours. While the others at the studio would most certainly go out for drinks to celebrate the end of the Games, the recruiter had invited you for dinner at his apartment. It wasn’t very far, only a 15 minute walk. You gathered your belongings and slipped out before anyone noticed you left.

“Wow, you prepared a feast!”

Much to your surprise and delight, the recruiter had prepared a lovely meal of soft tofu stew, multigrain purple rice, and a variety of side dishes. He had even lit a few candles to add to the ambience. He pulled out a chair for you to sit on before going to sit across the table from you.

As the two of you began eating, he congratulated you on your wonderful performance over the last week.

“I heard you may be up for a promotion,” the recruiter noted in his usual casual tone.

You scoffed, “I don’t know if it counts as a promotion, per se… They want me to report on the upcoming American version of the Games.” You shrugged. “I imagine it can’t be too different from the Korean Games.”

The recruiter smiled, but his eyes held a darkness to them.

“On the contrary. Rumour has it that gambling and addiction run more rampant there than in Korea… I expect those Games to be equally, if not even more, exciting. And with our dear reporter on the case…” He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling.

“Absolutely electrifying.”

You blushed, breaking eye contact with him. He laughed and continued eating his meal.

As always, the conversation flowed easily between the two of you. You commended him once again on his top-notch recruiting skills.

“Did you catch the final game? I still can’t believe 456 won… I was truly rooting for 218. Someone like him could be the next Frontman, don’t you think?” You asked, picking at your favourite side dish with your chopsticks.

The recruiter nodded, but seemed as if he was lost in thought.

“He wasn’t hard on the eyes either. Charming, sharp… Maybe he could have become a recruiter as well? We could have had some fun.” This caught the recruiter’s attention, his eyes gazing into yours.

He cleared his throat, but your comment clearly affected him. “I’ve already started gathering information on prospective players. I think these new ones will be even more interesting.”

“Oh?” you cocked your head to the side, “Do tell.”

He continued, “A cryptocurrency streamer on YouTube, Lee Myung-gi. Many of his followers are one click away from falling into serious debt. It’s only a matter of time before his advice leads them to desperate measures.” The recruiter’s eyes sparkled. “I can only imagine how he fares when his loyal fans turn on him.”

Intrigued, you smiled softly. He had clearly been working hard on this case.

Once you both finished eating, you helped him clean the table.

“I’m still surprised you went all out for dinner. I thought it’d be something simple, like ramyeon or take-out,” you paused, “Not that this wasn’t perfect. You made an amazing stew.” You moved to peck him on the cheek.

The recruiter’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Ramyeon? Well, why didn’t you say so?”

You groaned. Of course he’d turn your comment into an innuendo.

“I’m always open to ramyeon with you.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two of you moved to his sofa, and got a bit handsy with each other. It started with innocent touches and kissing. By the time you broke for air, your lips were swollen and your faces were flushed red.

The recruiter loosened his tie, making you bite your lip in anticipation. You helped him shrug off his suit jacket before tossing it on the floor.

As you continued to kiss, you straddled him and pressed yourself against the growing bulge in his dress pants, making you both moan. He pulled you closer and you ran your fingers through his neatly styled hair.

He easily popped open the buttons on your blouse with his teeth, a skill he’d perfected from your many trysts. He pushed aside your bra cup before taking your breast in his hand to gently fondle it, brushing his thumb over your nipple. You whimpered, and he flashed his classic smirk before drawing circles around your nipple. His other hand was on your waist, keeping you steady while you rocked your hips against his.

As you attempted to unbutton his shirt, he trailed kisses down your neck and left a few hickeys, despite your protests.

“Seriously? I go live in like,” you glanced at the clock on the wall, “One hour!”

The recruiter took in your disheveled appearance and was very pleased with his handiwork. The world would see that their enchanting reporter had already been claimed — only he was privy to your full attention.

“Wait, one hour?” You did a double-take at the clock.

You panted, stopping your rutting pace entirely. He groaned, grinding his hips up against yours in an attempt to lure you back in.

“Sorry, I have to go. Makeup’s going to have a field day with these hickeys…”

You lifted yourself off of him, much to both his and his body’s displeasure. However, he knew he couldn’t keep you from your job. The higher-ups would throw a fit otherwise. You could continue your session later tonight.

As you cleaned up and made yourself presentable for the public, the recruiter went to his kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine. He handed one to you and made a toast.

“To my lovely, charming reporter, who continues to fascinate me every day.”

You blushed, then replied with your own toast.

“To my handsome, mischievous recruiter, who never fails to impress me.”

He smiled, and kissed you on the lips.

“And to the games that brought us together.”

You both clinked your glasses, wishing for an even more thrilling spectacle to come.

#the salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #squid game #squid game season 2 #the recruiter #the salesman #the salesman x you #the salesman smut #the salesman fluff #the recruiter squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game x you #squid game x reader #reader insert #gong yoo x reader

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shinysobi · 2 months ago

Text

sleepless in busan

he's been running his whole life, and hadn't realized how tired he was.

well, this was supposed to be a collaboration that unfortunately fell through, but the image of diner owner jihoon was so stuck in my mind it refused to leave, so here we have chapter one of this monstrosity (don't even ask) I've yapped in everyone's dm's about this at this point.

genre: angst, fluff, mentions of drinking and smoking

a/n: to all the people whose inboxes I have invaded: kae @ylangelegy, tiya @gyubakeries, jay @ppyopulii and many, many more, I do hope you enjoy this as much as I did. Special thanks to jay who beta read this in record time, i love u my fellow woozidan

listen to the playlist here

w.c: 9.1k

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | masterlist

Verse one—haemul-tang.

Now, of course, there are methods to running a restaurant. Jihoon is perfectly aware of this, and yet, he has made it a personal mission to flout each and every rule of that (bar the safety precautions, because well, he isn’t an asshole, never mind what Jeonghan says. Jeonghan has to say an awful lot, apparently, because, and this is true, he’s been telling Jihoon about the apparent health and safety violations of his diner. Jihoon knows this is a false and untrue accusation, because the health department has been to visit once in the six months that Jihoon has been running his diner, and it has all been up to code. Likely, Jeonghan was trying to get underneath his skin by feeding him lies, and Jihoon cannot put it past Jeonghan simply lying to get ahead in the game. And unfortunately for him, Jihoon really cannot get angry with the man, because he simply has his best interests at heart, but he will use his God-given, natural right, to get pissed off and complain. A tiny little thing like friendship is not going to stand in the way of him complaining about Jeonghan, no matter what other people might say about him. He’s a grown adult now. And grown adults can complain about their best friends. And Jeonghan is the kind of person who would lie to get under Jihoon’s skin. Seeing him squirm is like a shot of dopamine for him.

“It doesn’t matter how good the food is, or if you’re being considered for an Orange Ribbon, Jihoon,” the offensive man in question is sitting at the bar at the moment, staring at Jihoon, infuriatingly attractive, “the state of this place is disgusting. This is probably the fourth time I’ve come to see you this week, and already it's filthy. Do yourself a favour and shut this down before you get inspected for a health code violation.”

Jihoon says nothing. Saying nothing in response is the easiest way to rile Jeonghan up, because after half a moment’s silence, he pipes up again, “you clearly hate running this place. Take my advice, and go back to your old job. You know, the one that you used to have, since you left everything and began a diner, of all things.”

Jihoon scoffs, rolls his eyes, and says, “what do you want me to go back to? Being a pianist? Being a performer? Or being a producer for the company? Because as far as I can recall, I am still doing that, just not in person. I still make songs. I’ve just stopped going into the spotlight.”

“Exactly. Do you know how much we spent trying to find you? You just dropped off of the face of the earth, without a single explanation as to where you were going or what you were going to do afterwards. People thought you had died, you know.”

“My parents knew where I was.” It is strange, how easily he slips back into being a petulant teenager in front of Jeonghan, who, when Jihoon had first met him, was a rather petulant teenager himself, but manages to not sulk too much, lest Jeonghan make fun of him, “and I was doing fine. I just didn’t want to deal with everything.”

“Your parents can keep a secret; I’ll give them that.” Jeonghan grouses, “I thought they were professional spies at some point, because nothing I said could make them open their mouths about why their only son dropped off the face of the earth after his contract—a very alluring contract that I fought with the company executives to secure for him—expired, and why he had not been picking up the calls of his friends.”

Jihoon has the self-awareness to look bashful. He was an asshole to all of them, he knows. Jeonghan was the one who was the most affected, but all the others—Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao—he’s been a jerk to all of them, dropping off of the radar because he just couldn’t deal with the fame and what came with it. “I’m sorry about that.”

“What were you even doing for all those years?”

“I was doing things. Other things, not producing or playing the piano in front of a crowd.” Jihoon shrugs, “ran away to Paris. I Learned how to cook. Came back to Busan, opened this diner.”

“Man,” Jeonghan runs a hand over his face, “you used to love performing. And then you leave without a word, for years, and then I find you running a diner in the middle of Busan. What really is going on here, Jihoon?”

Jihoon sighs, “not today. Nothing I can tell you today, I’m afraid.”

Jeonghan nods, “fair enough, but you have got to come back to the industry.”

“I’m still writing songs!” he protests, “is that not enough? I said I’d still be producing, and I am making songs for the company. Is writing consecutive hits not good enough for you?”

“It sounds like it’s not good enough for you, man,” Jeonghan says, finishing his food and placing a ten-thousand-won bill on the bar, “keep the change. And for god’s sake, fire Soonyoung. Or at least, make him stop coming here. He’s going to ruin his public image if he starts serving people in your diner. Look at him, he’s putting food in front of people wearing a tiger-print apron.”

“He works without pay,” Jihoon replies, “there’s really nothing I can do about a person who comes in and volunteers their time. Also, the only way he said he was going to serve people was if he was allowed to wear the tiger print apron.”

Jeonghan lets out a long-suffering sigh, “at least make him go home at a normal time. It’s good that he’s spending his break away from people, but serving drinks and food in a diner owned by Lee Jihoon is not really the answer.”

And with that, Jeonghan is gone, and Jihoon is left alone, with three other people in the restaurant, two of them being served by an overenthusiastic Soonyoung wearing a striped apron. He really had meant to let everyone know about his whereabouts, really. Even after all those years of being at the company, being a pianist, then writing and producing songs, even after all of that took a toll on him, he had meant to let the people closest to him know.

But he hadn’t, and his relationships had suffered as a result.

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung drifts into his field of vision, an orange-striped monstrosity, “shouldn’t you be closing up shop? Last call should have been half an hour ago.”

“Hm,” he nods, “I’ll close up shop. You can go ahead, if you want to.”

“You don’t look good,” Soonyoung says, worry laced in his voice, “should I call someone? Jeonghan-hyung? Your mom?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jihoon can feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming along, but he ignores it in favour of being nice to Soonyoung, because Soonyoung will definitely go and tell Jeonghan if Jihoon is not well, and he doesn’t think he can handle the emotional turmoil of dealing with Jeonghan on two consecutive days, “just go, I’ll clean and close up.”

“You already cleaned,” the other man points out, “you were cleaning before Jeonghan-hyung came by, and I finished the rest of it for you. You just need to wash the dishes from the last two customers and take out the trash, and you’ll be done.”

Jihoon stares at him, a newfound appreciation for Soonyoung colouring his vision. Yeah, screw what Jeonghan has to say about him working here, he’s going to let him work. If he likes it, let him do it. as long as it doesn’t interfere with his work and rest.

When he takes out the trash, Soonyoung having gone home earlier, sits in front of the diner, still wearing his work clothes, and takes out a cigarette. He really shouldn’t be smoking, but here he is, trying to get rid of a habit he had thought he’d left behind. So many people in his life—his parents, the record label execs, Jeonghan, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao, Soonyoung, now, and he’s managed to let down at least eighty percent of them, soundly. What was he thinking, opening up a homestyle diner in the middle of Busan? He knows why Soonyoung comes out here to work with him, even if his own house is in Namyangju. He’s aware of why Jeonghan has been running around to get him to come back to Seoul. But unfortunately for Jihoon, he enjoys the smell of the sea a bit too much. Likes Busan because he can wake up and go for a walk and have breakfast with his parents, come back to open the restaurant, and live a life that is enviable, perhaps. Hard, but enviable.

He presses the code to lock the doors, then pulls the shutters down. Time to clock out.

—

“No, Seungkwan, I refuse to go to your home for the holidays,” I tell the man sitting in front of me at the café, “I barely know your parents! Why would they want to host me for the holidays!”

“They love you already, noona,” the man wheedles, fully aware of the power of a handsome face, “please, they haven’t ever met a writer in real life.”

“I’m not a zoo animal to be paraded, Kwan. Besides, I have my own, very loving family, to get back to for the holidays.”

“But you won the Daesan literary award!” Seungkwan groans, “please, noona, it would mean so much to my parents if you came to visit them.”

Unfortunately, I’ve never really been able to say no to him, which is a weakness of mine that he exploits on the daily. Besides, who really contributed to the award? Was it me, who wrote the story, or was it Seungkwan, who found my manuscript languishing in a pile of rejected scripts and fought for it until it was published? I thanked him in my speech after I won, but it doesn’t seem enough.

“Fine,” I say, “I’ll go on the day after New Year. I can get a ferry or something.” Ugh. Never mind the fact that Seungkwan has something else brewing (he always has) in that mind of his, travelling the day after New Year, when all the roads are bound to be filled to the brim with people arguing, yelling, and trying to make their way to their own families, is not exactly my idea of heaven.

But, on the other hand, Seungkwan was my best (haters would say my only) friend, and I would actually enjoy his company, so I make a face, but make a purchase for a ticket to Jeju either way. I can always bully him into giving me a ride to his house after I land. I will have to make my excuses to slip away from my home, but I think my parents would be happier if I spent at least part of the holiday at a friend’s place rather than at theirs. It would stop the questions of ‘when are you getting married’, that’s for one.

I make a face at the amount of money I was being charged for single two-way ticket to Jeju, and I show the screen to Seungkwan, who pulls a frown of his own, “I’m taking that out of your pay check, Boo Seungkwan.”

“You don’t even pay me,” he counters, “and don’t pull that face. We all know why you’re even saying yes to this. You just don’t want to deal with your parents asking you when you’re going to get married.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“I’ve known you for three years, so it’s kind of obvious to me,” he preens, “are they still on your case about that?”

“They mean well,” I take a sip of the too-sweet boba tea, “but after a point, they get overbearing. Even they are aware of it, which makes me think that they’re just doing it on purpose.”

“And they still don’t know that you’re a writer?” Seungkwan has this look on his face, the one that I’ve dubbed ‘Incredulous Seungkwan Face’ where he has heard a piece of information so outrageous it cannot possibly be true, but here it is, in his face, as he tries to process it, “come on, at least tell them that you won an award! At least then they’ll stop asking you about when you are going to get a proper position at your job, and I don’t have to lie every time they ask me about it.”

“They ask you about it?” I groan, “I thought I told them not to bother you about anything, but they ask you about it.”

“They worry about you, that’s why,” Seungkwan sips on his coffee, “of all the writers I’ve met, you are the one who’s the most secretive, despite being one of the most famous.”

“You’ve been talking to more writers?” I gasp for dramatic effect, “cannot believe you are betraying me.”

Seungkwan gives me an unimpressed look, “As opposed to who is betraying you?”

I twiddle my thumbs. “You know, who else.”

“Never mind that,” Seungkwan sighs, “at least tell me that you’re coming to Jeju for New Year’s. I’ve already told my parents about you, so you know, no pressure.’

“Yeah, no pressure, you dumb shit,” I grumble, “I’m going to be terrified the whole time.”

Seungkwan laughs, before standing up to leave, and finally, I am all alone in the shop, with only my brain for company. Daesan Literary Prize. Until the previous month, I had no idea it was even a real thing, and when Seungkwan had called me up to deliver the news of my winning, I thought it was a prank call delivered to the publishing house. But it wasn’t, and now I am—well, what am I? a writer? An accomplished one? Someone who makes a fair bit of living from her craft?

Doubtful.

“Why are you based in Busan?” Seungkwan had asked me, when we met for the first time, an open question, that I had failed to answer, just stammered my way through a bunch of excuses that didn’t make sense to either of us, but at least he had accepted it, had not pressed further, had not asked the question, why do you avoid Seoul?

The boba shop is on the edge of the wharf, and I make my way to the sea, salty air whipping onto my face, realising, after a long time, ah, I miss my mom. It’s in times like these that I miss the days of my youth, when all I had were dreams clogging my senses, when I thought about nothing but becoming famous, being known for my writing. And when I’ve finally managed to achieve even a little bit of that goal, I hid away in the middle of a city where no one knew my name, or at least, even if they did, had the sense to look the other way. Seungkwan doesn’t press, doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t go beyond his limits. Even if he could, he never once asked me about the reason behind leaving.

My phone rings, “Hello?”

The familiar voice of my sister floats in through the speaker, “are you okay?”

Are you okay? There is an answer to this, but I’m not sure if I should be telling anyone about it, really, are you okay? Who am I to say I’m not, beg for love and attention and all the other things that come with the experience of being loved and cared for, to be an important person in anyone’s life?

“I’m fine,” I reply, kicking away a stray pebble, “just walking on the beach. It’s a Sunday.”

“You love that damn beach too much,” my sister grumbles, “even ran away from the city you were born and raised in, just to see the beach. Have you had your fill of it now? Aren’t you sick of seeing the same thing over and over again?”

“The sea changes every day, you know,” I laugh, “I come here every day to find a different person waiting for me, the same way that you have your family, I have the beach for myself.”

“I wish you would at least think about it, you know,” my sister sighs on the other end, “I just feel as though you’ve been running for years.”

“One has to stop at some point, right?” I laugh, “I’m fine, eonnie. I like it here, actually. The sea is—it’s comforting.”

“Do you want me to tell you about New Years?” she asks, still cautious, “or do you want to skip it this year?”

“I’ll come, don’t worry. Mom and dad will miss me if I didn’t show up at least once,” I laugh, “hey, at least we get mandatory leave those four days.”

“I thought you would have other plans.”

“Seungkwan invited me to go to Jeju for the New Years, so I’ll probably do that the day after New Years,” I say, “I don’t know, might cancel that. Would like to stay with my parents for the holiday, you know?”

“Mom and dad would be overjoyed if you went to a friend’s house for New Years,” she replies, “ah fuck, the kids are acting up again. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Bye.” She hangs up, and I stand there, in the middle of the beach, the sea a comfortable distance away from me, and wait a while.

I hate Seoul. Hate the bustle of it, hate how people move quicker than they need to, but who knows? Maybe they do need to move that quick, maybe they all have places to be, things to do, more important than the life of a twenty-something who does not know exactly where her dreams began and where her reality ended.

Most importantly, I hate how I miss it.

In the dying light of the sun, I kick away pebbles, hoping to find a different outcome for all this want inside of me, and come up with nothing.

—

Jihoon is scared. He’d been staring at the work computer in his room for an hour the past night, and all he ended up realising was wow, I’m fucked. He’s staring at the amount of drafts he has in his computer, titled neatly, with the day and time of composition (as if that really mattered, but Jihoon was a stickler) and really, he can’t sustain himself with recycled beats and old compositions he’d made in the earlier days of his contract with the company. He’s been unable to really make anything anymore, has essentially kept staring at the screen, unable to even make a single tune. It’s a far cry from the Woozi of his previous years, who had a new song to be presented for scrutiny at the company meetings every single week. Jeonghan might take offence, but he is not the one who has to craft songs, only has to present them, and he can wait a few more days.

Jihoon knows he’s good at making songs, he’s been called a genius far too many times for the term to not go to his head. Three years ago, just before his contract ended, he was awarded Producer of the Year and Songwriter of the Year, a distinction reserved for three people before him. He'd written around thirty songs that year, more than anyone else, and had his hands in the production process for at least twenty more. Writing songs came easy to him then, as easy as breathing. He could sit with a draft in the morning and be done by lunchtime.

And then breathing became difficult, so all he could do was clutch his chest and run.

Jihoon shakes his head, standing at the doorway to his apartment building, he has to get groceries for the restaurant today; the produce will be coming in a bit later than usual. Which means delays in the prep, which means delays in getting orders out. It’s funny, how he’s become accustomed to thinking like a restaurant owner, even though he had no idea about this stuff when he first started out, washing dishes in the back of a Parisian bistro, telling the whole world to fuck off just because he could. All of that was the bravado of a twenty-year old, someone who had enormous power thrust into their hands before they even realised the gravitas of it, and most of the time, people watch on in a sick sense of pleasure, hoping to see the other person drown.

And well, he was a good swimmer, but swimmers drowned too.

By the time he ends up finishing his prep for the day, there is only about ten minutes left for the lunch regulars to begin walking in, and he makes a face, realising, not for the first time, that running a restaurant, even if it’s a homey little diner on the edge of the Busan wharf, is a lot of work.

Soonyoung walks in halfway through the afternoon, rubbing his eyes as if he’s just woken up. He picks out his designated apron from the rack, and Jihoon averts his eyes because he cannot bring himself to be the one to tell him that the tiger-print is an atrocious one. In many ways, he’s grateful to Soonyoung, who works at the diner without asking for payment, just grateful to be able to hide away from the reporters in Seoul that seem to constantly be on his ass for something or the other. Soonyoung had entered the company when they were at the last stages of The Seventeen Project, something that was being touted as the 'next big thing' in k-pop since BTS. Jihoon was also dabbling in producing, sick and tired of the failure and the scrutiny. He had initially felt sad for Soonyoung, given how he was walking into a company that was on its dying breaths, desperate to try anything to get by. They all knew, the HR knew, the producers knew, hell, even the trainees knew. Production had seemed like a safer alternative at that time, and he was eager to do anything for a paycheck. Turns out, Soonyoung, or Hoshi, as he called himself, was the goose that laid golden eggs. Or was it Jihoon who was the goose? Either way, Hoshi’s popularity meant more work for Jihoon, more money for the company to be poured into the other struggling groups. When one succeeds, everyone gets a piece of the pie. Years later, and he was begging for his contract to end.

The shift is a slow one, meaning he has more time to think about his impending doom, where he is hunted down the sands of the beach by a group of company executives, headed by Jeonghan, who, inexplicably, has a contract termination notice for his diner in his hands. Jihoon knows it’s an unrealistic dream, but it does not keep it from shuddering in fear whenever his mind conjures up that image.

“One seafood stew,” Soonyoung sets down a ticket in front of him, jerking out of his thoughts, “should I say last call?”

Jihoon checks his wristwatch, already past midnight. He wants to keep the diner open a while more, but he still has to go home and decide on what to send Jeonghan for the upcoming deadline, something that he has been avoiding to the point that Jeonghan had to make the damn trip to tell him to fix his mistakes. He has to do something, or the tentative bit of goodwill that he has, will all go down the drain. At least he can talk to the others over the phone every once in a while, he won’t be able to do that either anymore.

“Last call,” he shouts over the counter, and the customers begin to stand up and leave, “Soonyoung, clean as much as you can, then leave the rest to me.”

“Ah, well, you see,” Soonyoung says, half-apologetic, because Jihoon knows how much he loves performing, “I’m going back to Namyangju tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Your vacation finished early?” he asks, keeping it light, “you stayed back longer this time.”

“Ah, you know, vacation is never really a vacation with these people,” Soonyoung laughs, “but, I’ll still be in touch, if you want me to.”

“Of course I want to remain in touch,” Jihoon laughs, “drive safe on the road back home, huh?”

“Sure, sure,” Soonyoung walks out of the door, “keep the apron for me, would you?”

“Fuck no.”

Soonyoung leaves, and Jihoon is alone, back in a void of his own making. He could just clean up before leaving, but Soonyoung is apparently a much more diligent worker than he had ever thought he would be, because he’s left a spotless kitchen and nothing for Jihoon to take care of, nothing that he can do in order to make himself feel useful. So, he sits at a corner table, looking out onto the beach. He’s been raised in this city for all his life, and yet he’s never really seen the city. He’s never even been on a Blue Line tour, for god’s sake.

With a sigh, he stands up, dusting off a table top. I’ve still got to go back home and work on a draft, useless as it might be. All these responsibilities are probably not good for him; his mother (and his doctor, but he fears his mother more) has warned multiple times against him overdoing it, but Jihoon is part of a group of people who just don’t know when to give up.

The bell rings, and even before he can stand up to look at the person walking into the store after hours, a voice rings out, “are you still open?”

Jihoon turns around, and he truly, really, fully intends to say “no, I’m afraid we are closed for the day,” but instead says, “why do you ask?” because the person in front of him, with the faint scent of cigarette smoke on her, looks straight out of a novel—hair windswept, eyes shining with unshed tears, the heroine of all his dreams brought to life.

If she was a song, she would be—

—

Social media is a disease. I keep repeating that to myself, walking along the wharf. I’m happy now, social media is a disease. I should have never really gone on Facebook after work ended, instead I should have done some overtime work to at least assure myself of remaining in the same company for another year. Unfortunately, I had the bright idea to go online, where by some cruel twist of fate, there they were, happy, married couples who wanted to show themselves off to the world because they can, and they don’t have anyone else to think of when they post happy pictures or whatever.

As I stared at the photos of the gorgeous destination wedding, because of course, who can stop themselves from doing horrible things, all I can think of is university, years ago, perhaps the last time I felt any real sort of happiness.

Don’t contact me ever again.

Hope you heal from whatever you are going through.

The subtext was clear, and try as I might, I could not get anyone to tell me outright, you’re a bitch. You’re a bitter, insecure bitch, and I hope you never find happiness again. Then again, that would not have come off very nice over text.

I lean against a shop, lighting up a cigarette, but the words don’t leave my mind. Hope you heal. How many times does one have to be on the opposing ends of people leaving them to realise that maybe, just maybe, they are the problem themselves? Your ex-partner was a piece of shit and you tolerated all his actions. That makes you even more of a terrible person in my opinion, even if you left him, because at the end of the day, you are a bitter person.

The worst part is I agree with it, all the accusations that are basically condemnations, I agree with them all. I smoke too much, I’m insecure, I don’t have the courage to even talk to anyone properly.

“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, because of course the tears are coming right now, hard and fast when there is no one around to even see it because if no one sees my tears, are they even real? I’m tired, hungry, and overstimulated from the workday, and all I want is a place where I can settle down and think nothing until I get something to eat. Except it’s after midnight, and every shop in a fifty-metre distance from me is wrapping up their workday, closing down shutters and leaving to go back home.

There’s only one shop open on the beach, and I walk towards it, harsh ocean winds ruffling my hair. The bell makes a noise when I step in, announcing my presence to the only other person inside the space, the owner of the store.

“Are you still open?” I ask, and he turns back to look at me, and in the warm yellow glow of the shop light, the man seems like he’s been waiting for me all along, with his kind face, and the soft way he tells me, why do you ask? Instead of just declining outright. Am I overthinking again? Probably.

I take a deep breath. “I just—I saw you were open, and I didn’t feel like having a meal from a convenience store again.”

He laughs at that, “no, no we really don’t, because convenience store meals are the scourge of every working person’s stomach lining, aren’t they?”

I say nothing in response, and he turns back to the kitchen, “We only have the seafood stew left, if that’s okay?”

“Seafood stew is fine, actually,” I take a seat at the bar, staring at the man who’s preparing my meal. A philosophy professor in university had once told me, that one of the ways to get to know anyone, is to look at them from behind once. People have their defences up when you look them in the eye, and they tend to hide themselves away from you. Every time you look them in the eye, they have their ways to deflect, no matter how truthful they are. Everyone has some sort of secret they want to keep, even from themselves. When you look at someone from behind, everything becomes visible—the way their shoulders drop when they walk away from you, the telltale signs that give away their hurt and their anger.

Looking at this man, with his starched white shirt, probably ironed carefully in the morning, preparing a meal for me, I can think of only one thing.

Ah, this man. He looks so lonely.

I’m not unfamiliar with loneliness, given the general trajectory of my life, but this man, he seems to have made the loneliness his own. It’s almost as if he does not want to move away from the dark cloud that hangs around him, as if he’s made himself comfortable in the blanket of his own self, to the point that I don’t think he even registers that he has people around him.

Or maybe, it isn’t your fucking problem, a voice tells me, one that sounds uncannily like my tormentors, because what else could top off this truly delightful moment? If it's not your problem, then don’t go around poking your nose in other people’s business. You’ve done enough; let it go.

The problem is, I’m not good at letting go, and haven't ever been good at it, even as a child. Screaming and crying over old books being given away or sold; keeping record of every moment in my life until it became too much for my diary. Letting go of people was easy; letting go of myself was difficult.

And yet, you’ve managed to run away from your old life, to a place you barely know. Haven’t you been practicing the art of letting go?

“Seafood stew,” the man says, placing a steaming stone bowl in front of me, “here you go.”

“Wait, aren’t you about to close?” I ask, a wave of guilt coming over me suddenly, “ah, shit, I’ll make sure to eat it fast.”

“Unless you want to end up in the ER tonight, take your time,” he replies, “Although, since you asked so nicely, I’ll let you know one thing: you’re also eating my dinner, in case you wanted to, maybe, tip me some more.”

I stare at him, half in disbelief, half in wonder, until he begins to laugh, “don’t worry, the house dinner is secure, so you don’t really have to give up half your food.”

“Half my food? How aren’t you sure I didn’t want to give the whole thing up?”

He laughs again, pointing to the bag sitting beside me, forgotten altogether in the process of sitting down, ordering, and whatever else that entailed, “you’re an office worker, on their way back from working, roughly six hours overtime, and you look like you haven’t had a single bite of food since the morning. Of course you were not going to give up the whole meal, I wouldn’t expect you to.”

“Hence, half.”

“Hence, half of the meal,” he smiles, “and here I’m being generous.”

I narrow my eyes, but take a spoon and dig in anyway. It’s a seaside diner, I tell myself, there’s no way you’re going to find a Heston Blumenthal hiding in the sands. It’s humble fare, the kind you like.

The first bite, and I want to kick myself for being this wrong. It’s a homely dish, no doubt, but the workmanship behind the dish is exquisite. It's simple, clean, the aftertaste of it not too overpowering. It’s a reminder of Busan, the sea present within the three spices he had used—chilli powder, soy sauce, and soybean paste. It's subtle, briny, and delicious. I used to consider myself a gourmet, because at one point in time, I used to be rich enough to eat at good restaurants (and I enjoyed it), but after this dish has announced its presence on my tongue, I don’t think I can really say that I’ve had anything as good as this.

“You look like you’re enjoying it,” the man says, smiling, “is the stew that good, or are you just starved?”

“Both,” I muse, “it has been a long day.”

“That makes two of us,” he grins, “care to unburden yourself?”

I narrow my eyes. As good as this dish is, I doubt I want to tell my life story to this man, who I have known for all of half an hour. For all I know, he could be a serial killer, using this diner as a front to get intel on his next victim. Also, why the hell would anyone listen to the story of a person who has been abandoned by her entire social circle? How much loss can be contextualised? At what point do I have to come to terms with the fact that maybe, just maybe, I am the problem?

“Don’t worry, I’m not a serial killer,” he laughs, and adds on, to my horrified expression, “I realised that maybe asking for your life story without knowing you properly, might be a bad idea.”

“A self-aware man, I see.”

“A rarity these days, no doubt.”

I sigh, choosing not to reply, and busy myself with eating, keenly aware of him observing my every move. It’s awkward, but not entirely unwelcome. Despite watching my fair share of true crime documentaries, I don’t stand up and storm out of the diner, instead I stare right at him, realizing, however belatedly, he has beautiful eyes.

“Unburdening can be hard, I’ve come to realise.” He says, after a pause.

“Why? Is running a diner that hard?” I laugh, “you have the sea right in front of you.”

“The sea is not always benevolent,” he replies, “sometimes, the diner is tiring.”

I hum, “I understand. Adulthood seems to be a series of exhausting events, one after the other, with pockets of small happinesses scattered in the middle.”

“Happiness seems to be hard to come by,” he nods, “I keep forgetting why it was that I opened up a shop here, of all places. It’s on days like these, that I need a violent reminder.”

“Do you want me to shake you by the collar?” He laughs at that, and I feel a sense of pride, because I made him laugh. When was the last time I did that? “Happiness might be difficult to come by on most days, but it's not impossible to find, as you can see.”

“What do you mean?”

I take a deep breath, “I live my days on small, certain happinesses. Moments throughout the day, when I can think to myself, "ah, this existence is not too bad.”

“Moments like?”

I hold out my hand, “when I get my favourite chocolate milk from the store in the morning, I’m happy. When my mother calls me just because she missed me, I’m happy then too. Right now, I’m eating delicious stew. All this makes me happy, in small moments. One day, I think that these small moments of happiness will build up enough for me to live the rest of my life in relative comfort.”

“And this will be enough for you?”

“Well, it all depends on the kind of person you are,” I reply, shrugging, “and the kind of situation one is in; most people try to find as much happiness as they can, even in situations that would have broken their spirits otherwise. It’s just important to, you know, have hope.”

“You sound suspiciously like one of those late 2010’s Keep Calm and Go On posters,” he narrows his eyes, and I snort, “cannot believe I’m on the receiving end of hope-core propaganda.”

“Funny you should mention hope-core,” I wipe my nose with a tissue, “I learnt the meaning of the word from the intern at the office, just this morning, actually.”

“Ah, so you’re fully qualified to give me advice,” he grins, “Soonyoung was the one to explain that to me.”

“He sounds like he’s got his finger on the pulse of today’s youth,” I nod, “or at least, that is what my boss would have said, if he had heard those words. Seeing as he is not here, I will take this opportunity to act as a stand-in.”

He laughs, “Your boss seems great.”

“He’s—surprisingly nice, given how he has to put up with all my tantrums and issues.” I shrug, and he places a glass of tea in front of me, “as an employee, I think I am also obligated to tell you that I have the best boss in the world.”

“You don’t really have to say that,” he says, now wiping down the counter, “Soonyoung probably does not have a single good thing to say about me, but I still keep him employed here. Most bosses don’t really care what kind of people you are, as long as you get the work done.”

I sigh, yeah, there’s the actual problem. I’m behind on work, and everyone else has to pay the price because of me.

It must show on my face, my feelings, because as much as I would like to brag about my poker skills, it’s evident, my discomfort. This man does not prod, instead, offers me another tissue with a smile. He doesn’t push, and I don’t reveal anything. It’s bad manners, really, to be spilling all your secrets to someone you’ve barely met, and within the first half-hour too.

The seafood stew is finished by this point, and I stand up, pushing a ten-thousand won bill towards him, and he fixes me with a look. I shrug, holding it out, “For the haemul-tang,” I say, smiling, “and for listening to my woes.”

“If I took money from the girl who gave me bad millennial advice, I’d be ruining the sanctity of this kitchen,” he says, so seriously I cannot even bring myself to laugh, “come by another time when I have more to offer than the leftovers of the day, and then I’ll take your money. Not before that.”

I make a face, “nothing in life is free, is it? Because now, I have to come back to your diner once more, in order to get my money’s worth.”

“I’ll make sure to serve you my best dish, that day.” he says, and I laugh, because apparently this man doesn’t only make good seafood stew, he also makes other dishes that are, presumably, just as good, “what is it?”

He smiles, conspiratorial, “well, you’ll have to come by again to find out.”

“And if I simply abscond? What if I never come back again?” I stare at him, lit warmly under the lights, soft, yellow, almost ethereal. This was the kind of encounter people fantasised about, wrote about, thought about incessantly. This was what dreams were made of. He’s smiling at me now, because for all the bad things in the world, sometimes, you do get to meet a stranger and even strangely, you both connect on some level that neither of you really understand. If I could, I can stride forward to the bar, and ask him for his number, something I do not really think he will be averse to. I could just do it, establish a connection with someone. And it would not even take a lot of effort, just a conversation. A few lines of words, spoken easily, lightly, as though it did not matter. I could do this. There was no reason I had to remain lonely in this city, when I could have a singular friend to talk to, on nights like these.

Do you even deserve this?

I take a step back, and the back of my knee collides painfully with a chair. I wince, and before he can come to my aid, grab my jacket and bag. “I’ll come by again—” are the only words I manage to say, before opening the door and stumbling out onto the street. God, its fucking cold. If I could just reverse the flow of time, I would never go into that damn restaurant, never would have struck up a conversation with anyone, least of all that man. Someone whose name I don’t even know, someone who (hopefully) will no longer be here when I take a walk on the beach tomorrow.

Before coming to this city, I had not really thought of myself as someone who was cut out to make large decisions. In fact, I thought of myself as perfectly average, right in the middle of the pecking order, someone whose existence brought neither great joy, nor great suffering. The middle ground between two warring sides, and apparently fooling no one. Busan had not even been on the radar before, had not even been in any of the plans I liked to draw up when I was a child, ranging from “World -famous chef” to “President of the United States of America” (yes, I know, that one was a mistake. I wasn’t aware we needed to be old men to be considered for that role). Nowhere in those crudely written crayon drawings had I put the words “Small-time editor for a company in Busan”. I suspect if I put it in one of those sheets, my elementary school teacher would have called my parents, because there was no way that the girl with the best grades in the school would imagine becoming a lowly office worker in a mid-tier city.

Unfortunately, I woke up one morning, four years ago, and decided that Seoul was simply too oppressive for me, and I needed to leave. It was nothing as dramatic as running away in the middle of the night, which was a pivotal point in one of the stories shared by my batchmates on a class outing. Imagine being subjected to a half-drunk woman rambling about the time she was almost robbed at knifepoint, and framing it as a heartwarming story of youthful problems, as something everyone did, at least once in their lives. “How else did you cope with the stress of the exam?” Because apparently, getting into one of the most prestigious universities in the country implies you had to have been in the throes of extreme irrationality as a teenager, or else it does not count. No, my act of leaving was as boring and adultlike as possible, practical and dry, to the point where people did not really understand why I left. That ruse lasted a while, of course, until the rumours began to grow so insistent that no one, not even my mother, that most oblivious of women, made the trip to Busan and insisted on staying with me for a whole week. She didn’t believe them, of course, and asked me only once, on the final day, I’m hearing things about you, you know. Are they correct? I don’t believe them, but I’m asking you again.

They’re not correct, mom, I had said, feeling only slightly sad at lying this blatantly, I do not know what you are talking about, and I know that is not correct.

And my mother had believed me, but a false rumour is only marginally worse than a half-true rumour. And even if they were not true, why did you run? Why did I run, when it meant that everyone could point their fingers at me and say you ran, therefore you are guilty. On what count, we do not know. But you are guilty. And you will remain guilty, for the rest of your life.

I light up another cigarette, walking rapidly away from the diner. The chill in the air has become worse, with the winds sharp enough for me to huddle into my coat as I make the short distance home, five minutes away, but I smoke two cigarettes before I even step foot into the building, and a third is halfway to my mouth as I punch the code in the lock.

You’re gonna die of that one day, man. At least put the cancer sticks away.

I flick the lighter even before I reach for the lights.

—

She smelled strongly of cigarettes, Jihoon noticed, out of everything she did, it was the cigarette smoke that stood out to him, heavy and surprisingly, slightly comforting. She was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger, but—the spicy smell of Dunhill cigarettes, a cross between clove and mint ones, that, that was a scent he was familiar with, years of suffocating boardrooms and producing studios that seemed to be made for the express purpose of forcing him to bend to the will of the executive members. The faint tobacco smell was a reminder of the years he spent in that company, giving up on his youth to chase his dreams. They’d all stopped smoking after a while—him, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Minghao. Or at least, he thought they had. He can’t be sure anymore.

He'd been at his work table for hours in the morning, with little to no work done, but his hands reach for the headphones of their own accord, now, and he starts humming a tune under his breath. It’s a wistful tune, one that would have Jeonghan breathing down his neck, but for once in a while, Jihoon finds himself incapable of caring. Sure, he has to make an upbeat boy group song, and what he’s doing is an indie ballad. But also, he’s been steadily running out of his saved drafts, and Jeonghan would have become aware of it, one day or the other.

He's got only a rudimentary beat done, but it's more work than what he has had in months. It’s a soft progression, reminiscent of the indie songs of the late 80’s, and Jihoon wonders if he should compose a city-pop song for the new female soloist from the company. He could get away with it too, sending over unauthorised songs. Anything will work, as long as the company gets their check.

Jihoon, did you hear? You’ve been nominated for Producer of the Year.

Jihoon, make sure you’re present at the meeting tomorrow.

Jihoon, I’m sorry but you’re not a good fit for the debut team.

Jihoon, make sure you get that track finished by next week.

He leans back into the chair, heaving a sigh. It was destined to crash and burn from the start, wasn’t it? Late nights, strict deadlines, short breaks. Jihoon was on top of the world, but it took mighty little to get him to come crashing down. All of a sudden, he was in a strange city, with no one to talk to him, but more importantly, no one to answer to. How pathetic was my life, if I only managed to taste freedom at the age of twenty-six?

But today, she was there, standing in front of him, and Jihoon had felt, for the first time in a long while, a strange sense of déjà vu—or was the feeling merely camaraderie? That they knew each other, or some level, even if they had never met each other before. She reminded him of a time when he knew nothing but work, cigarette smoke enveloping her like a crowd of despair. And she’d seemed sad, too. Sad enough to not look at him when she spoke.

He'd never managed to get her name; she had come into the diner, into his life, and disappeared with nothing but the faint trace of her habits behind her. He’s never really wanted to know someone this desperately. He could ask someone for help, but his parents would probably ask him to sit back and do nothing at all.

She’d said one thing that had stuck out to him. One day, I think that these small moments of happiness will build up enough for me to live the rest of my life in relative comfort. Even in his moments of despair and depression, he had had support. His parents were there, rallying behind him, keeping their mouths shut about his whereabouts because they knew that Jihoon was not well. He’s one of the lucky ones, the people who had both money and a good family to fall back on, a fact that he says his prayers daily for. All he had to do was tell them I’m not doing well, dad, and they had opened their arms to shield him from the rest of the world while he recuperated. Small amounts of happiness, she’d said. What were his small doses of happiness? To be able to get dinner with his parents every two days? His father, a stoic man who didn’t take off the watch Jihoon had given him—his first present—for a whole month, and his mother, the woman who had been the one to put him in his first piano class, the person who kick started his career, essentially, to be able to be a good son to them, to be a filial person, is that happiness? He thought he was happy, at one point, when he was cranking out a song in two hours and being lauded for it, when he had the high life, going from country to country every year, aspirational discretionary income stored in a platinum account.

Are you doing well? You look—

I’m fine.

He’d repeated the words so many times that he had started believing them. I’m fine. I can do it. This doesn’t bother me; words that made no sense to him, yet happened to come out of his mouth on a daily basis, and what was funnier was that everyone seemed to believe his obvious lies.

He has things to do for the next day; keep track of purchases and go to the market to get things wholesale, banal duties that keep him sane, except Jihoon cannot focus on anything but her right now. You’re going insane, Jeonghan would say, except Jeonghan isn’t here to save his ass right now, is he? It’s just Jihoon at the moment, going slightly insane, apparently.

He’s going to find her tomorrow; more accurately, he has to. She owes him the price of her seafood stew.

—

I wake up before my alarm rings, apparently trained better than a soldier. The morning is crisp, calm, and bright, and as I make myself a coffee before stepping out of the house, I’m hit with a pleasant breeze through one of my many windows. Seungkwan has left me a message in my inbox, sent at three in the morning.

“Remember, you’re supposed to send in your first article by next week. We’ve worked really hard for this serialisation, so don’t miss the deadline, although I’m sure you won’t, because you understand my problems, anyway, remember the deadlines, please.”

I’d almost forgotten about this. The serialisation was a big deal for Seungkwan, since my mainstream success meant the same for him, as my editor. He was the one who worked for the pitch; sending in letters to the chief of the department, begging them to give me a chance. The fact that it was only approved after I’d received an award, doesn’t take anything away from his hard work.

The call to Seungkwan goes through immediately, and his sleep-deprived voice floats through the phone line, “What’s up?”

“What’s the deadline for the serialisation?”

“No mincing words, I see,” he mutters, “next week.”

I sigh. Next week. I’ll have to come up with an idea and a way to execute it, all within a week. “At least tell me if there’s a brief.”

“Brief?” he’s immediately wide awake, “don’t tell me—you haven’t even written anything yet?”

“Besides the point. Just tell me if there’s a brief.”

“That’s the whole point! If you have no idea what to write, man, I don’t know how to say this, but I might lose my job.”

Now it’s my turn to be speechless, because what the fuck does he mean, “What?”

Seungkwan sighs, “look, I really didn’t want to tell you this, but I did bet my job on your column. Sure, the award was a good push, but the Editor still didn’t want to give it to you. Our best writer used to write this column, and now—”

“Now he’s dead,” I reply, “yes, I’m aware, Seungkwan, that my opportunities depend on the timely passing of literary greats.”

“Good god, and now I’m late for work. Just remember you have until next week for the deadline. And write something fun, new age, one that the readers will relate to. We’re already losing subscribers to the magazine as is.”

“Ugh,” I open my mouth to tell him some more, but unfortunately, he’s cut the call, desperate to get to his job on time, and I’m left, standing in the middle of the street, because fuck it’s no longer my writing that’s on the line, it’s Seungkwan’s job as well.

taglist: @facethesunflower @hisnowbie2

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writinandcrying · 3 months ago

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How does the 2003 turtles react to crushes - part 1

Just a little thing cuz I miss writing, i miss tmnt and I haven’t got the time to do a full one shot or mashup in MONTHS 😔, I’m still on season 1-2 so if anything is a bit too ooc, I apologize! I love reading about crushes, first kisses, first loves, so this is for my puppy love stage lovers out there!! p.s: there's a poll for the next turtle by the end of the headcanon, make sure to vote your favorite! <3

(English is not my first language and I have dyslexia, I try to check everything before posting but sometimes grammar mistakes still happen, I apologize in advance if you find one!)

Leo

That’s some deeply repressed, effortless devotion energy right there, Leo is a pro at pretending that everything is fine, keeping it cool, but on the inside? so freaking nervous it’s not even funny

it's almost creepy how quiet he suddenly gets near you on your first visits, he acts in such a secluded but... odd way that everyone know something is up with him, but no one really knows what.

His younger brothers are all 🤨 over how he’s acting, at first, they noticed tiny shifts in his behaviors, they weren’t big enough to raise a red flag of such change, but when Leo shows how inpatient and careless he has become in training or meditating, then they KNOW something was really off . he has been careless for the silliest things as well, breaking the toaster more than once a week, forgetting to nag them about the open toothpaste, stuff he usually wouldn't miss it, but suddenly he doesn't mind it anymore.

None of them have the guts to ask him (Raph and Mikey might tease here and there, but you know, it’s Raph and Mikey) Don might find himself studying his brother from time to time, interested to why his older brother is being way more introspective than before, he wonders if maybe he’s going through a natural turtle process of some sort April is the only one who truly leaves him be, but as your visits become more frequent, it all clicks when you randomly stop by to deliver some groceries by Master Splinter request.

The pure lovesick look he glances at you when you first enter... you caught him completely off guard as he was leaving the dojo with Master Splinter, his dementor shifted back rapidly to stoic, but April noticed it, her eyes widened slightly as it all made sense, softening right after. Leo helps you with the groceries with agility, as Master Splinter excuses himself after he thanks you, he even dares to make small talk after an extremely long and awkward moment of silence (which he researched his possible lines in his head several times, made up several scenarios in which topic it could lead into, I might add) We have seen how Leo reacts to Usagi in the series (he has a fat crush on each other and I’m right) so you know even if he is indeed nervous, Leo is so dedicated to your well-being, attentive to your needs and inputs to missions or even movie debates, it’s heartwarming to see how inclusive he can be of you. He notices everything – Not in an obvious way, or a loud way, but in a way that means you’ll never have to ask him twice about something important to you. You mention offhand that you like a certain type of tea? He remembers. You’re shivering? He’s already handing you his jacket before you can say a word. The exact moment you get tired even before you admit it.

One day at training after sparring, you absentmindedly rubbed your wrist. You didn’t say anything, didn’t complain at the pain you might have felt, but later that night, you find a perfectly wrapped bandage roll left on top of your bag. No note. No explanation. You glance at Leo, and he’s just calmly cleaning his takana, pretending like he has no idea what you’re looking at. He’s not the type to shower you with words, but his actions speak volumes. He makes sure you always walk on the safe path while coming back from a mission or scorting you back home, he picks whatever condiment out of your food because he remembers you don’t like them. He’ll “coincidentally” be around when you need help, even if he acts like it’s no big deal. He's gentle, kind, and a true gentleman, he makes sure his presence is there. He effortlessly puts so much thought into you, it’s just how his mind works.

He disliked how nervous he first got around you, but after a while, he didn’t even realize how he had grown used to thinking about you. He grabs an extra bottle of water without thinking because you might be thirsty later. His brothers joke that he’s got favorites, and he just denies it, but deep down? Yeah. It’s you. Eventually, he has to talk to someone, and he chooses to confide in April about… well, everything? regarding feelings, about how to be sure, what does it feel like to love someone and how should he react to it? wait, did he say love? How can he stop his hands from getting so sweaty? this is ridiculous, should he feel anxious and at ease around you all at the same time? From time to time, he tells himself he doesn’t like you like that, that he’s just looking out for you because you’re part of the team, part of the family. that's just him being a leader, That’s all it is.

his train of thought is broken as he hears Mikey chuckle “Dude, you’ve got it bad.”

Leo stiffens, cleaning his throat as he turns he page of his book a bit too slow “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you SO do.” Mikey grins. “The ‘eyes-follow-them-every-time-they-leave-the-room’ thing? The ‘silent-knight-hovering’ thing? classic move, real smooth.”

Leo exhales through his nose, forcing himself to focus on back his book. It’s not like that. It can’t be. "Maybe you should tell them, who knows, they might be looking back right at ya" Mikey winks at him, biting on this apple as he sits on the couch, turning on the tv. Maybe he was looking at you too long, maybe he wasn't as subtle as he thought he was, or his brothers just, unfortunately, know him too well and finally caught up. He prided himself and his control, his calm exterior, carefully managed. but maybe you slip through the cracks. He can't help but to continue notice how eyes shine brighter when you smile, remembering every little thing about you, doing things that only you get to see. Deep down, he knows. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.

#2003 tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt leo #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt headcanons #giulia writes #tmnt 2003 headcanons

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 4 months ago

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A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 16

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: An unexpected visit from Elain triggers Y/n, leading her to push everyone away again, but Azriel sees through her defenses. She begins to gain partial control over her powers after an emotional outburst and testing a new theory.

Warnings: angst, mention of death, and despair.

WC: 4.2K

The next time Y/n trained with Cassian, her demeanor was colder than usual. She didn’t even greet him, didn’t acknowledge him, she simply resumed her position without a word.

“You’re mad at me?” Cassian asked, his brows drawing together.

“I don’t care about you enough to be mad,” she snapped, glaring at him before returning to her exercise.

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Let’s just train,” she replied curtly, shutting him down. And back to the beginning they went.

Y/n was already in a foul mood that morning, but when Elain came uninvited, it tipped her over the edge. First, she had spoken to Nesta, and that had gone as poorly as expected. Hoping for a better outcome, Elain turned to Y/n. But she was wrong.

When Y/n entered her room and found Elain seated in her armchair, her mood soured further.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice sharp. There were no greetings, no pleasantries, no trace of affection for her younger sister. Y/n saw Elain’s actions when she packed her belongings as a betrayal.

“I came to see you,” Elain said softly.

“Bold of you to assume I want anything to do with you,” Y/n shot back, her tone cutting.

“Y/n, don’t be like that.”

“You’re a traitorous bitch,” Y/n spat. “Nesta and I sat by your side for weeks while you refused to eat or drink. We didn’t interfere. We let you grieve. Gave you all the time you needed. No one seemed to have a problem with that.”

“You and Nesta were indulging in dangerous activities,” Elain argued, her tone hesitant but firm.

“Not eating and drinking are dangerous too,” Y/n retorted. “I just can’t believe you of all people would turn out to be a treacherous snake. All for what? So you can join Feyre’s little circle of clowns who think themselves better than everyone else?”

“You know that’s not true,” Elain protested, tears welling in her eyes.

“Isn’t it? Because the way I see it, the minute you got the opportunity to switch sides, you took it.”

“There are no sides, Y/n. You’re my sister, and I love you.”

“My sister died a long time ago,” Y/n said coldly, her voice barely above a whisper. “She was killed by the King of Hybern when he threw her into that damned Cauldron.” Angry words, full of hurt. Whether she meant them or not, it didn't matter, they already struck their target.

“I-” Elain’s sucked in a sharp breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. “If you thought so, why did you stay by my side after?”

“Because I thought there was a part of my sister left in you. But I was wrong,” Y/n said, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “You’re just like the rest of them now. A High Fae, the very kind I despise.” More poisoned arrows, her tone dripping with hatred. If Elain didn’t leave soon, she didn’t know if she could stop herself.

“You don’t mean that,” Elain whispered, her voice breaking.

“I.mean.every.word,” Y/n enunciated harshly.

“You and Nesta are the same.”

“I’m worse,” Y/n said darkly. “Now leave, I don’t want to see you again.”

Cassian had barely managed to calm Rhys down after Elain stormed out, tears streaming down her face, telling him her sisters weren’t improving, weren’t even trying. She’d spent less than five minutes with either of them and had concluded that. After Rhys and Elain left, Cassian didn’t know where to start and who to talk to first.

From her room, Y/n heard the heated argument between Cassian and Nesta. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms until they broke the skin. Tiny beads of blood welled up, leaving faint red streaks on her hands.

Unable to stand the confines of her room any longer, she headed to the roof for fresh air. Minutes later, Cassian followed her, his steps heavy with frustration.

“What the fuck happened with Elain?” he demanded, his voice harsh as he crossed his arms.

Y/n didn’t even turn to look at him. “You couldn’t get an answer from Nesta, so now you’re coming after me?”

“They think neither of you are improving.”

“Ah,” Y/n said bitterly, her tone dripping with mockery. “So this was an evaluation of our progress?”

“That’s not what I meant-“

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? And the best part? I don't care. I don’t care what Elain thinks of me, what Feyre, your High Lord, or anyone else does.”

Cassian frowned, his hands dropping to his sides. “You used to go head-to-head with anyone who dared look at your sisters the wrong way. And now this?”

“Things change,” she said coolly. “People change. And it’s not always for the better.”

“Not you,” he insisted, his voice softening. “Not this. There was nothing that could make you turn your back on your sisters.”

“They made their choice. And I made mine.”

“So, what?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Now you’re just going to push everyone away like Nesta? Pretend you don’t care?”

“I SAID STOP COMPARING ME TO HER!” Y/n’s voice thundered, and with it, the sky answered. Lightning rippled through the clouds, illuminating the roof as rain began to fall.

Cassian’s eyes widened a bit, his shoulders stiffening. “So you still have your powers?”

“Get out of here, General,” she muttered, her voice eerily calm. “Before I hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” she warned, her eyes glowing faintly as the storm above intensified. “I’m barely containing myself. I need you to leave before I lose control.”

Cassian studied her for a moment longer, his expression torn between concern and reluctant understanding. He realized she wasn’t threatening him but trying to contain the rest of her powers so she wouldn’t hurt him. She was holding back, but the effort wouldn’t last. If she continued suppressing it, she would explode, and he’d be caught in the aftermath. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and left, casting one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the house.

Once he was gone, Y/n exhaled shakily, her fists still clenched at her sides. The storm above rumbled, the rain coming down harder now. She tilted her head back, letting the cold drops hit her face. And then, she let go.

The sky erupted. Lightning flashed across the dark clouds in jagged streaks, illuminating the heavens as thunder cracked violently around her. Y/n stood still, unflinching, as the tempest mirrored the chaos within. For the first time, she didn’t fight it, didn’t try to rein it in. She let her powers surge outward, merging with the storm above.

The release was almost euphoric. The rage, the pain, the frustration, it all poured out of her, feeding the storm. For once, she didn’t fear her power. She embraced it- owned it. She felt untouchable, invincible, as the rain drenched her to the bone, her heart pounding in her chest and her breaths coming fast and shallow.

This power- it was something she had never viewed this way before. No longer something to be restrained or feared, it was a force to wield, to command. It was freeing, exhilarating. Now she finally understood- it was something to die for, and it was all hers.

When the tempest began to wane, her breaths steadied, and the rain slowed, turning into delicate snowflakes.

This time, she did not faint. She had braced herself. She exhaled deeply, the last of her energy ebbing away, leaving her drained but at peace.

That night, as she prepared to sleep, a knock sounded at her door. She groaned softly, tugging her robe tighter around her as she moved to answer. To her surprise, Azriel stood on the other side, his wings tucked neatly behind him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone neutral. Her long braid was half undone, and her transparent robe revealed the nightgown beneath it.

Azriel’s eyes flicked downward for the briefest moment before meeting hers again. “May I come in?”

She hesitated, her hand tightening on the door. After a moment, she sighed and stepped aside, allowing him in. Once he was inside, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find him standing closer than she expected. She took an instinctive step back as his breath brushed her skin, her pulse quickening despite herself.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice quieter now, unsure.

“I heard about what happened today,” he said, his tone soft.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

“I haven’t come to argue with you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I came to check on you,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “See how you were feeling.”

Her lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile. “Magnificent.”

“I’m serious,” Azriel said, his voice dropping a notch.

“So am I,” she countered. “I no longer fear my powers. I fully embraced them today, and it felt amazing. Freeing.”

A faint line appeared on his forehead as his eyebrows pinched. “So the thunderstorm was all you?”

She raised a brow. “Do you have them here often?”

He shook his head.

“Then you have your answer.”

“Do you know what triggered it?” he asked, his tone careful, measured.

Y/n’s expression shifted, “Rage, I think. This time it was rage. The other time- times, it was a mix of different emotions. The first time, it was fear. The second, pain. And now, rage.” She paused, meeting his gaze. “But every time, it happened when my emotions were…amplified.”

She hesitated before continuing. “Today, after I let go, I felt in control. At first, I couldn’t stop it, but as it poured out of me, I realized I didn’t want it to stop. The power, it was alluring.”

Azriel studied her carefully, his shadows swirling faintly at his shoulders. “You weren’t scared?”

“Not one bit.”

“Can you summon it now?” he asked after a pause.

She blinked, taken aback by the question. “I…I don’t know.”

“Could you try?” he pressed.

“Why?”

“Don’t you want to know if you can harness it any time you want?” he countered.

Y/n’s expression darkened, a flicker of suspicion crossing her features. “Is that all? Or do you want to see if I am a danger to the people around me?”

“If you were, I wouldn’t ask you to try,” he replied calmly.

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered almost bitterly. “You have your shields and shadows.”

His gaze softened. “I know you wouldn’t hurt the people you care about.”

“That’s not true,” she mumbled sourly.

“Physically, I mean,” he clarified. “Now, could you please show me?”

“But I’m not feeling anything right now,” she admitted, her voice softer.

“Does it matter which emotion it is?”

“I don’t know. So far, it’s been different each time.”

“May I try something?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Like what?” she asked warily, eyeing him.

“Close your eyes,” Azriel instructed and she raised a skeptical brow.

“Just trust me on this,” he said, his gaze fixed on her.

Y/n sighed but complied, closing her eyes reluctantly.

He moved closer, his hand brushing hers before taking it gently in his grasp. She flinched at the contact, but he tightened his hold just enough to stop her from pulling away.

“What are you doing?” she asked, opening her eyes.

“Just trust me,” he repeated, his voice a murmur. “Close your eyes.”

She huffed, her skepticism plain. “I don’t think I can do that while you're holding my hand hostage.”

He snorted at her choice of words, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I won’t bite, I promise.”

She rolled her eyes but closed them again, letting out a resigned sigh. “Alright, you have one chance.” Why she agreed and listened to his instructions, she couldn’t quite explain.

His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over the back of her hand as he stepped behind her. His other hand gently lifted the braid that rested over her neck, letting it fall to one side. The soft brush of his fingers against her skin sent a shiver down her spine.

“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. She tried to glance over her shoulder, but he stilled her with a quiet word.

“Now,” he said gently, “picture the most beautiful place you can think of.”

She frowned mildly but followed his instruction. “Alright. Now what?”

“Think of someone you love,” he said quietly.

Her brows knitted together, her expression tightening. “You’re aiming for the wrong emotion,” she said bluntly. “My feelings are… very complicated right now. I don’t even know if I’m capable of love anymore.”

“You are,” he replied firmly, his grip on her hand steady. “I’ve seen it– in the way you love your sisters, even if it doesn’t seem that way right now.”

Y/n said nothing, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Azriel’s tone softened as he added, “But that’s not what I was aiming for. I meant something- someone… more intimate.”

“Like a lover?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“You’re asking me to think about someone I love,” she began, frowning again, “but if I presumably loved someone in the past and we’re not together anymore, it means I don’t love them anymore. So this doesn’t make sense.”

She opened her eyes and turned to face him, her brows furrowing as she questioned his logic. The motion brought their faces closer than she’d realized, the tip of her nose brushing against his. The unintended closeness startled her, her breath hitching as a rush of heat surged through her. Her heart skipped a beat, the scent of cedar and night-chilled mist filling the small space between them. Her pulse quickened, and she struggled to ignore the pull she felt, the way her body seemed to react on its own.

In that fleeting moment, a jolt of energy sparked between them, crackling at her fingertips and sending a faint shiver up her spine.

Azriel’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable as the faint crackle of electricity escaped from her fingertips. A flicker of lightning danced across the sky outside, its glow briefly illuminating the room.

“There,” he murmured as he gestured toward the window behind her.

Y/n blinked, the weight of what just happened slowly sinking in. Her heart raced as she turned her face away from him to check. He hadn’t let go of her hand, not that either of them seemed to notice in the moment.

“What did you think of just now?” he asked, his tone careful, though his gaze remained fixed on her.

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry. A simple question, yet it felt impossible to answer. What could she say? That it had been him? That the proximity, his presence, had been enough to shatter her defenses and ignite her power? Her pulse roared in her ears, she couldn’t lie to him, but she also couldn’t tell him the truth. So she settled on deflection.

She closed her eyes again, forcing her focus on that feeling, that ripple of power coursing through her. No storm this time, but lightning struck and struck, sharp and controlled. Azriel watched intently as she concentrated, her face set with determination. The temperature in the room dropped noticeably, an eerie calm settling over them.

“Congratulations,” he said quietly. “You seem to be able to summon it at will.” He let out a condensed breath, his shadows flickering subtly around him.

She finally opened her eyes, and the lightning ceased. “I might be able to control it once it’s started,” she admitted, her voice edged with a trace of frustration, “but I didn’t summon it. It just… happened and that’s the part I need to master.”

“Well I am no expert, but I know someone who could help you,” he offered carefully.

“No.” Her reply was immediate and sharp. She stepped back from him, her hand slipping out of his grasp as she put distance between them. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“How do you even know who I was going to suggest?” Azriel asked, his tone even but curious.

“You were going to say your High Lord’s second-in-command,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “I won’t see her or anyone from your little circle of friends. It’s enough that I’m training with your brother. Don’t push my limits.”

Azriel sighed, the corners of his mouth tightening. “I wasn’t going to. It was just a suggestion.”

“One you knew I’d never agree to,” she countered, her voice thick with irritation. “Yet you still brought it up… you should leave.”

His expression tightened, a faint furrow appearing between his brows. “Are you always so easily irritable?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I am trying my best to be civil, but you lot don’t make it easy.”

“Is that why you surrounded yourself with all those drug addicts?” Azriel blurted. “Because they couldn’t form two sentences? Couldn’t get to know you?”

Her eyes flashed with anger as she met his gaze. “I surrounded myself with them because they’re as miserable as I am,” she snapped. “We understood each other. And we didn’t need to talk about our feelings. There’s a bliss in forgetting, and all you lot want to do is shove me into a world where everyone is happy and perfect, I despise it- despise them.”

Azriel didn’t interrupt, his face still unreadable as she continued.

“At least with them,” she went on, her voice taut with frustration, ”being around those people you so disapprove of did not make me feel like shit. They didn’t judge me or force me to do anything I didn’t want to. I cannot say the same about your friends.” Her gaze narrowed, anger and vulnerability flashing in equal measure. “And don’t tell me what you’re doing is because you care about me, and that I’m going down the wrong path, and that it’s for my best, blah, blah, blah. I’m not stupid, Shadowsinger. I know what I’m doing.” Her voice broke a bit as she finished, barely above a whisper. “I just don’t have the will to live anymore.”

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Y/n’s chest heaved with the weight of her confession, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. She refused to meet his gaze, hating how her voice had betrayed her, as her carefully constructed walls crumbled under his quiet presence. She hated it all, every part of it- the way he seemed to see through her, the way he refused to leave, the way he always managed to slip past the barriers she worked so hard to maintain. The way he made her heart soften at times, despite her best efforts. The way, even after she’d pushed him away, he always found a way back it

This day had been long and horrible. She’d just shown Azriel a side of herself that she’d never shown anyone, confessed something she hadn’t even dared to voice aloud before.

“That’s a lie,” Azriel said softly. His tone wasn’t mocking, but firm, yet gentle. “If that were true, you would’ve ended your life.”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged, a long, broken sigh escaping her lips. “That’s where you’re wrong. If I did, everything would stop. I don’t deserve a quick and painless ending.” Her voice cracked once again, and she hated herself for it.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she push him away this time? Why was she confessing all of this? Stop- she needed to stop.

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, his shadows tightening around him. “So you’re punishing yourself?”

She drew in a shuddering breath, then exhaled slowly. “I said enough,” she whispered, a faint tremor in her tone.

Azriel didn’t push further, sensing the thin thread of control she clung to. Instead, he shifted the subject suddenly. “Your theory was right.”

“What?” She blinked in confusion.

“Your powers,” he explained, gesturing toward the window where another crack of lightning lit up the sky. “They’re connected to how you feel. When your emotions are heightened, they manifest.” Her eyes followed his gesture for a moment, her expression hardening slightly as the realization sank in. She hadn’t even noticed this time as the storm raged outside.

She turned her glare on him, her frustration mounting once more. “You did all of this just to test a theory?”

“Not intentionally,” he admitted. “But when I mentioned Amren and saw how irritable you became, I noticed how your powers responded almost immediately. How your body reacted. How your powers slipped past you so easily.”

Her glare sharpened. “So you let me ramble just to see what might happen?”

“No,” he replied immediately, his voice resolute. “You needed to let all of that out. I hope you feel better now.”

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped.

“I’m not your enemy, Y/n,” he spoke softly, his tone unshaken, almost gentle, as he let out a faint exhale.

“You’re not my friend either,” She shot back, the words biting.

“You’re upset,” Azriel acknowledged calmly. “I’ll take my leave, then.” With his hands buried in his pockets and his head dipping slightly, he took a couple of tentative steps backward before turning toward the door.

“So you’re just going to run away?” she demanded, her voice rising.

Azriel stilled mid-step, then turned back to face her. “I’m not... Do- do you want me to stay? If you need someone to yell at, to vent to, I’ll stay.”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair as she began pacing the room. Her frustration was growing with every passing second.

He watched her carefully, his sharp gaze noticing every subtle shift- the way her body tensed, the reluctance to let him in, the struggle within between pushing him away and letting him in, the confusion, and the exhaustion.

“Take a deep breath, Y/n,” he instructed calmly.

He considered reaching out to her but held back, knowing that in her current state, she likely wouldn’t want him anywhere near her. Even though what she probably needed most at that moment was a hug.

She spun on her heel to glare at him again. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she barked.

“Alright,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll just sit here till you’ve calmed down.”

“You’re going to be sitting there a long time,” she hissed, each answer like a snake spitting venom on its prey, her eyes burning with barely contained fury as he nails dug into her palms.

But Azriel did not flinch. He did not move, did not budge. His calm presence was infuriating, steady against the storm she tried to unleash on him, as if daring her to throw everything she had his way.

“That’s fine,” he replied evenly, settling himself in a chair.

Y/n stared at him, her breathing uneven. She wanted to scream at him, shove him out, anything to make him leave. But the fight drained out of her with every breath. “No it’s not. I need you to leave.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because I don’t want you here.” She tried to keep herself composed, but the crack in her voice deepened.

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I don’t care,” she replied, though her voice betrayed her as it broke entirely.

“You do.”

“Stop- please just leave.” Her words were softer now, her pacing slowing, her body sagging under the weight of her emotions. She was tired. Too tired to fight, to talk, to pretend. Too tired to do anything.

“I will, once I make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though even she didn’t believe the words.

“You’re far from it, but that’s alright,” Azriel said gently.

Y/n let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands trembling slightly as she finally stilled. “I don’t have the energy to fight you anymore,” she admitted, her tone weary, defeated.

“Then don’t,” Azriel said simply. “Just get some rest.”

How could he be so composed, so calm? She did not let herself think about anything- she could not. Too drained to argue, too exhausted to pretend any longer, Y/n climbed into her bed. Her body felt heavy as she closed her eyes, hoping all of this was just a bad dream.

Azriel stayed, his shadows curling protectively around her as he watched her, almost as if they’re trying to soothe or comfort her. He waited until her breathing evened out and the tension in her features melted away as she slipped into sleep.

The temperature in the room had dropped drastically, the cold biting at his skin. Moving quietly, he crossed to the windows and closed them. Luckily, the house responded, lighting a fire in her room.

“Sweet dreams, Stormbringer,” he murmured, pulling her blanket up to tuck her in with gentle care.

For a moment, he lingered, his gaze fixed on her now-peaceful form. A hint of a smile crossed his face. Then, with a quiet exhale, he turned and slipped out of the room, his shadows following in his wake.

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