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motorsportbarbie13 · 2 days ago

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Aftermath - Chapter 5

Aftermath - MV33 - Chapter 1 Aftermath - Chapter 2 Aftermath - Chapter 3 Aftermath - Chapter 4 Master List

When Lando leaves you heartbroken after you get tired of trying to make something out of nothing for far too long, Max steps in to help you pick up the pieces.

warnings: this chapter contains language and descriptions that illustrate abuse (mental and emotional). please don't engage with my work if you find any of the topics triggering. lando is, once again, an absolute asshole in this. i'd also like to point out that this is a character i am writing, i in no way am insinuating or implying the real lando is like this in any way.

pairing: max verstappen x leclercsister!reader

word count: 4k or something like that?

(Everyone say ‘thank you’ to @lestapiastrisgirl for beta reading and helping me through late night plot crisis so this can come out today!!)

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source It's been months since @/Lando and @/MissLeClerc have been spotted togtether and we're starting to wonder...are they even together anymore?! Lando was spotted out alone in Monaco, looking annoyed at fans calling his name while his (ex???) girlfriend was papped out and about with none other than...Max Verstappen. Again. Rumors about the LeClerc sister and Dutch driver started to swirl right around the time her and Lando stopped being seen out in public...What do we think, chat??? Has little miss leclerc finally ditched the cocky British pilot for a new Dutch beau??? user029 maybe she got tired of having to parent her boyfriend??? user220 if it's true, she's really upgraded. 4 time world champion vs...what??? 4 time race winner. please. user0298 he never supported her art or anything, i'm not surprised she's moved on. max always looks smitten with her.

“Lando, you have got to get this under control.” The head of McLaren’s communications team hisses, her glare shooting daggers at the driver who’s just walked into the the hospitality building ahead of the race in Belgium.

Lando glances up from his phone, face pale and eyes worried. “How the fuck am I supposed to control what the gossip pages post?”

Marina throws her hands up in the air as she paces, her McLaren team kit wrinkled from lack of sleep thanks to the British driver. In the four weeks since your argument with Lando after Austria, things have only gotten worse. You’re still not talking to him and he still hasn’t figured out where the hell you’re living. You’re not staying with Charles and Alexandra or Jade, he’s been subtly watching both buildings. He knows you’re still in Monaco because you’ve been papped out with your family and friends but most maddeningly Max Verstappen.

Everyone seems to have noticed you’re not living with Lando anymore, your appearances in his streams have dwindled down to nothing. Fewtrell has had to start banning people form his chat because they won’t stop asking about you and what’s going on. Everyone knows that something went down but you’re straight up refusing to behave like an adult and come back to Lando, where you belong and it’s infuriating.

“You can’t, obviously.” Marina sighs, sitting down at one of the high top tables in the middle of the suite.

Around her, the Thursday afternoon crew of engineers and communications people buzz, all prepping for their weekends. Everyone seems to be acting normal but Lando can feel their glares on his back as he walks through the building. They all know he’s causing the entire team grief by causing so much drama with you, taking the attention away from the decent start to the year they’d had before all hell had broken loose a few months ago.

“But,” She continues, leveling a glare at Lando. “You either need to bite the bullet and release a joint statement with her announcing your breakup or you need to get her to the track this weekend and make a big show of a united front. It’s up to you Lando, but you need to do something. I can’t keep saying ‘no comment’ whenever we’re asked about the distraction this is causing the team.”

Lando pulls at his curls, like hell he’s going to admit that you’d left him. He supposed he could go rogue and release a statement without you. That way he could control the narrative and try to get the fans back on his side if he made something up like a cheating scandal or something. The moment that the thought flutters through his mind, he forces it out. For some fucking reason, the fans seem to have a soft spot for you and it’s maddening. Lando knew there was no way he could get public opinion on his side, not with how he was getting ripped apart on socials right now.

“We’re not broken up.” He bites out, taking a sip out of his water bottle as he contemplates what he can do.

Marina glances up from her phone, brow lifted in question. “That’s not what it looks like here.” She turns her phone towards Lando and shows him a photo of you descending the stairs of a private jet that’s just landed in Belgium. In front of you, already down the stairs and waiting on the tarmac for you is your brother with Leo cradled in his arms.

And behind you? A fiery rage burns bright and hot in Lando’s chest when he sees who’s behind you.

Fucking Max Verstappen.

The look you’re giving him makes his heart twist and for the first time since this entire thing began, Lando actually misses you. He misses the way you used to smile up at him like that, like your entire world revolved Lando and no one else. He missed the way your eyes would follow him around a room, how your body would center towards his. The way you looked at Max was how you used to look at him and it made jealousy twist violently deep in Lando’s gut just looking at the photo.

“I’ll take care of it.” Lando spits before stalking off to the privacy of his drivers room.

f1.gossip.source posted

f1.gossip.source Alexandra, Charles, and his little sister were seen arriving in Belgium this afternoon on Max Verstappen's private jet. It's yet another instance where the LeClerc sister was spotted without boyfriend Lando Norris, sparking new breakup rumors. Neither party has confirmed if they're still together, with McLaren PR insisting that the personal lives of their drivers are off limits. user019 honestly, I'm here for a LeClerc sister & Max relationship. >>>user028 me too. at least Max seems to actually like her, unlike Lando user0029 I mean, we all can see it. Why can't they just confirm it already??? user2333 fully on board the 'get her away from Lando train' ROOTING FOR YOU MAX!!! Get your girl!!! user029 my friend was out at the restaurant they were all at a few weeks ago and said that Lando crashed the dinner but left after a few minutes looking PISSED. >>>user029 honestly, Lando is kind of unhinged rn. get over her my man, move onnnnnnn!

“I can’t believe you got me to agree to come this weekend.” You grumble as you follow Max towards the paddock gates Friday morning before practice.

“You’ve barely been to any races this year and it’s almost the end of July!” Max shoots over his shoulder, grinning like an idiot he’s so happy you decided to come this weekend.

“I was at Monaco!” You protest lamely, shoving your elbow into your brother’s ribs when he laughs.

“You live in Monaco, that doesn’t count Little Dove.” Charles chuckles, rubbing at the sore spot where you’d just assaulted him.

“Whatever.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

After arriving in Belgium last night, you had gone straight to your hotel room, needing a bit of alone time ahead of what you were sure was going to be a stressful weekend. As usual, you’d been papped arriving on Max’s jet, which you were certain Lando had seen because the moment you had checked your messages in the SUV Max had rented for your little group, there had been a text waiting for you from him.

I know you probably don’t want to see me and I get that. I’m sorry, from the bottom of my heart. Can we please get together this weekend and talk? Somewhere neutral if that’s what you want…

As you settled into the hotel room that was yours for the weekend, a war was being fought in your brain. On one hand, you didn’t trust a single thing coming from Lando’s mouth. Not a single thing. He hadn’t given you any reason to trust anything that he said for months, so why should you start now? But on the other hand…

On the other hand, you and Lando had so much history. His message seemed remorseful. You knew everyone in your life would kill you if you even entertained the idea of getting back with him but somewhere deep in your chest a little voice was saying maybe you should hear him out. He was finally leaving you alone, finally backing off, why did he have to pop up right when you thought you had finally gotten him fully out of your system?

You didn’t tell anyone Lando had texted you. Had been texting you all morning as well. You knew no one would understand. But you also hadn’t returned a single text either. The energy that responding to Lando would take was something that you just didn’t have today.

Your little group is captured by photographers as you walk in, a few even call out your name asking where you’ll be spending your time this weekend. Since dating Lando, you liked to split your time between the McLaren garage and Ferrari but this weekend was going to be different. Your VIP pass had Charles’ face and name on the back, not Lando’s. You had credentials from Ferrari like normal but this morning, Max had also slipped a Red Bull card around your neck, telling you if you got sick of looking at all that red this weekend, you could spend time with him.

“Are you going to come to the dark side this weekend and use those Red Bull credentials to whip up some gossip?” Max murmurs in your ear, watching as Charles trots off ahead of you after Leo.

You bump your shoulder with his, rolling your eyes and laughing lightly. “Stop.”

Mischief plays in Max’s pale blue eyes as he smiles down at you, enjoying the way your cheeks flush under his attention. Ever since the race in Austria a few weeks ago, you and the Dutch driver had been spending a lot of time together, all casual but he’d really begun to look forward to the nights you spent curled up on his couch eating takeout and watching bad reality tv with him.

Before he has a chance to reply though, he sees the color drain from your face as you freeze in the middle of the sidewalk. Whipping his head around, Max searches for what, or more accurately, who has spooked you. He already knows who he’s looking for so when his eyes settle on the McLaren driver standing just outside the sliding glass doors of the McLaren hospitality building across the paddock, his stomach lurches.

You had known you’d see Lando this weekend. How could you not? This was literally his workplace too. There was no way to avoid him, you knew that but you hadn’t expected to see him so quickly and before you had managed to work out how to respond to his text from the night before.

Your brother is between where you stand and McLaren’s hospitality so he clocks Lando staring after you at about the same time as you and Max. Turning on his heel, he scoops up Leo and makes a bee line back to where you stand, utterly frozen.

“Dovie.” Max coos in your ear, twining his fingers with yours in an attempt to pull you out of the state you’re in. “Hey, sweet girl, look at me.”

You ignore him, gaze locked on Lando’s frozen frame.

Charles steps in between you and Lando, instantly cutting off your line of sight. This seems to yank you back to reality and your brother snaps into action. “Shit. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. I don’t want her alone.” Your brother sounds panicked, like the way you’re just staring blankly ahead is really freaking him out.

So, he improvises. “Here, take Leo and go take a walk. There’s tons of open space on the other side of the paddock.” Charles presses the small dog into your hands and you drop your gaze away from Lando for the first time in several moments.

Your gaze drops to where your hand is still clutched in Max’s larger one. The steady warmth from his presence grounds you, allowing you to pull in a full breath for the first time in several minutes.

“No, she’s not going off on her own.” Max cuts in, tone sharp. “I’ve got some time before I need to be in the car. Come stay in Red Bull with me until practice, then you can watch from my garage, okay?”

The force of his words leave little wiggle room for argument and Charles can’t help but smirk a little. He should have known Max would step right up to make sure you were taken care of.

“Yeah.” You agree weakly, finally tearing your gaze away from Lando, who is still starting at you, light eyes sharp and observant. You can feel the way his gaze drops to where Max’s hand is curled around yours possessively. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Without waiting for Lando to get any more ideas like wanting to try to come talk to you, Max tugs on your hand. He knows you well enough by now to know that you need a distraction and you need it fast. “Come on, you said you wanted to stir up some gossip this weekend, well here’s your chance.”

You laugh despite yourself, nuzzling your face into Leo’s soft fur. “I’m keeping the dog.” You tell your brother as you allow yourself to be led away by Max. All Charles does is nod, relieved to know that you’re in good hands while he’s busy.

missleclerc posted

24,029 likes liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and others missleclerc in my defense, I was kidnapped ☝🏻 maxverstappen1 whatever, you wanted to be there. >>>missleclerc lies. It was a hostage situation. >>>maxverstappen1 is that what the kids are calling it these days? >>>user299 chat, are they flirting in the comments??? WE CAN SEE YOU TWO charlesleclerc can't believe you subjected your nephew to this. please make sure you take a shower before dinner tonight. >>>missleclerc rude. user0209 ya know, I'm kinda here for this ship. >>>user987 did you see how utterly distracted Max was during the one interview where she walked past him? couldn't take his eyes off her >>>user0209 lando's gonna be crashing out after seeing that interview tonight >>>user3443 GOOD. bro deserves it

“I think you may need to roll me up to my room after that dinner.” You groan, rubbing at the food baby making your black leather skirt pinch painfully at your hips.

After qualifying Saturday evening, when the boys were all finished with their media and team duties, Max had insisted that you, your brother, Alexandra and himself all go out to dinner. He’d wanted to insist it just be the two of you but he wasn’t blind to the gossip you two had stirred up in the paddock Friday afternoon so he’d figured bringing your brother and his girlfriend along would be a bit safer.

“I think I ate my weight in spaghetti.” Alexandra groans beside you as you plod towards the front doors of the hotel. “Carry me up to the room please, Cha?” She coos, throwing her arms around your brother’s neck as if she can’t go on one step more.

Charles laughs, snaking his arms around her waist and pulls her close, dropping a kiss on her forehead, a gesture so tender and intimate you have to turn away. Your gaze immediately connects with Max who is standing a few paces behind your brother and his girlfriend. A small smile tips up at the corner of his full lips when you make eye contact at him and your stomach swoops at the affection for you in his eyes.

You’re imagining things, you think instantaneously. There’s no way Max sees you as anything other than a friend, after everything that you’ve endured while he’s watched. How could anyone like Max be attracted to someone who had spent an entire year drowning in a failing relationship? It was likely a pity smile, something he gives you because he feels sorry that you haven’t found what your brother has found in Alexandra.

“There you are…” A smooth British accent interrupts your thoughts, jarring you out of your spiral. “You stopped answering my texts.” Lando says pointedly as he joins your little group in the lobby of the hotel.

Your eyes shutter closed as you blow out a breath. You had been hoping to avoid this confrontation all together but it was just another nail in the coffin of why Max wouldn’t even want to begin to get involved with you in the first place. Why would he willingly want to be with someone who was still so intertwined with her ex still? You’ve spent so long with Lando, were so intertwined with him it would certainly be easier to just go back to him, wouldn’t it? Maybe he was all you deserved after wasting three years of your life.

“I was at dinner, Lando. It’s rude to text during a meal.” You carefully control the tone of your voice, not wanting to instigate yet another public altercation with him.

“Ah, yes. I’m sure the company was riveting.” His eyes flicker over to where Max stands, stiff and unmoving, the smile that he’d just been showering you with totally gone from his face. “So, what do you say, can we finally talk like two adults?”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Norris.” Charles cuts in, voice sharp and short.

“I think your sister can answer for herself, LeClerc.” There’s a challenge in Lando’s eyes that you don’t miss and you know you have about five seconds to diffuse the situation before it gets out of hand. Again.

Placing your hand on Lando’s elbow, you tug him away. “If you promise to chill out and actually listen to me, we can go to the bar and get a drink. One drink, Lando. Can you do that?”

If you had been looking at Max then, you would have seen the light flicker out of his eyes. He’s grateful that his hands are tucked away in his pockets when he hears your words because the way the ball up into tight fists would be embarrassing had anyone seen it. He wants to say something, anything, that might convince you to not walk away with him. He wants to tell you how he’s feeling, how this afternoon with you in his drivers room and then garage was the best start to a race weekend he’d had in recent memory. He wants to beg you not to go with Lando.

But he can’t. He can’t because he still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell you how he feels. Max is stuck in this painful sort of limbo where you two spend time together and he craves any bit of attention he can glean from you but it’s not enough for him to risk your fragile state of being right now. He knows you’re still recovering from leaving Lando. Three years is a long time to spend with someone, even if the last year was as painful as Lando had made it for you. He knows you’re not ready for him to tell you how he’s feeling but he’s afraid if he doesn’t, you’ll go running back to Lando.

While the internal debate about what to do with his feelings rages on inside, Max watches as a cat-like grin spreads slowly across Lando’s face. He’s won. Lando’s won and they both know it.

“Of course, baby.”

You bristle at the name but without the energy to fight him, all you do is roll your eyes. Max’s mask of indifference somehow staying in place when he hears the nickname, but it tears him up on the inside. He’s not sure how he manages it.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thanks for dinner, Max.” Taking a step towards Max, you fold yourself into him, enjoying the way his arms come around your waist without hesitation. The hug is firm and he holds onto you for several moments longer than necessary.

“I can stay down here if you want me to.” He murmurs in your ear, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, sending a cool shiver of pleasure down your spine.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle him.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” He responds, looking down at you. You’re surprised to see a stark look of concern all over his face, like he’s genuinely worried about you.

“Max, I’m fine. It’s just one drink.”

But Max knows Lando. It’s not just going to be one drink. But what other choice does he have? Reluctantly, he releases you and takes a step back, forcing himself out of arms length. You instantly miss the grounding warmth of his body and fight to keep your expression neutral.

Max watches you walk away, shoulder brushing with Lando’s and has to resist the urge to rub at the painful clenching sensation that wraps itself around his heart.

“You don’t have to watch her leave.” Charles murmurs, standing off to the side with a worried looking Alexandra. They both share Max’s opinion that this is a bad idea but like Max, what else can they say?

Max scrubs at his face, suddenly so overwhelmingly exhausted that all he wants to do is climb into bed and sleep until the race tomorrow. “What am I supposed to do, Charles?” He throws his hands up in defeat as you disappear around the corner just as Lando’s arm slips around your waist. “I don’t have a single claim on her, she’s not mine to miss.”

His stomach twists painfully at the thought of having to go back to his hotel room knowing you’re touching him.

“She won’t go back to him.” Charles says with more confidence than Max can muster up himself. “She’s been doing so well lately and we all see it’s partially because of you, mate.”

“Don’t give up on her, Max. Not yet.” Alexandra offers quietly, stepping closer to Charles before reaching out and placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. “She’s stronger than we all think but she’s going to need your patience right now. It’ll be okay.”

The way it physically hurt watching you walk away had alarm bells ringing in Max’s head. He hadn’t realized just how attached to you he’d become in the time since you’d left Lando and it terrified him. If you went back to Lando tonight, he had this gut feeling he’d lose you forever and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to endure that.

Max barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning for hours trying to convince himself he hadn’t just watched you walk right out of his life again. He knew he was, once again, getting ahead of himself and that he needed to wait before going into full spiral mode but he couldn’t quite get himself there.

By the time he’s downstairs in the hotel lobby the next morning, waiting for the car that Red Bull had hired for him, he’s exhausted and on the brink of biting someone’s head off.

“You doing okay over there, Verstappen? You seem a little…irritated.”

Max turns and has to stifle a groan. “Why can’t you just leave well enough alone, Lando?”

Lando has the nerve to look confused, brows furrowing as he tilts his head to the side. “I have no idea what you’re on about, mate.”

It takes every ounce of control Max has honed over the years not to punch the British driver square in the face. “Why are you so fixated on her now that she’s finally trying to get away from you?”

Lando smirks, quick and ugly, before he shakes his head. “See, now that’s where you’re wrong Max.” He reaches over and pats at Max’s shoulder patronizingly. “I don’t think she really wants to get away form me anymore. Not after last night.”

It feels like the breath has been sucked out of Max’s lungs at Lando’s words. “What the fuck are you talking about?” He hisses, heat creeping up his neck.

“You’re a smart man, Max. Use that big brain of yours. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Lando grins like the Cheshire Cat as he shrugs. “Oh look, my ride’s here. Good luck out there today, Verstappen.”

Without waiting for a response because he knows full well he’s caught Max completely off guard, Lando saunters off, hands deep in his pockets, without a second look back at the Dutch driver.

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jiminomenon · 3 days ago

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assistant! reader going viral and capturing the attention of model! karina’s fans

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 843

summary: when karina posts a mirror selfie, y/n unintentionally steals the spotlight, sparking a viral reaction. as fans focus on her assistant, karina struggles with unexpected feelings of possessiveness and jealousy.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it all started with a selfie.

jimin had been in one of her moods, insisting on taking the perfect photo for her instagram. “y/n, set up my phone,” she said, handing over the device. “i want a mirror selfie, and make sure you get my good side.”

y/n, who had long since mastered the art of dealing with jimin’s diva moments, sighed but obediently propped the phone up on a nearby shelf, angling it toward the full-length mirror in jimin’s dressing room. “your good side is literally every side, jimin. just smile already.”

jimin pouted but struck a pose, her perfectly styled hair catching the sunlight. as the timer counted down, y/n stepped into the frame to adjust the angle, her unimpressed expression clearly visible in the mirror behind jimin.

“let me see,” jimin said, grabbing the phone. she frowned at the photo. “ugh, you ruined it! delete it and take another one.”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. she assumed that was the end of it—until the next morning, when she woke up to a flood of notifications on her phone.

“what the…?” y/n muttered, scrolling through her social media. her inbox was full of messages, and her follower count had skyrocketed overnight.

“good morning, sleeping beauty,” jimin said, sauntering into the kitchen with princess in her arms. “why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“did you… post that photo?” y/n asked, holding up her phone.

jimin blinked innocently. “which photo?”

“the one where i’m in the background!” y/n said, turning the screen to show her. the photo had gone viral, with thousands of comments and likes. most of them were about y/n.

who’s the assistant?? she’s so pretty!

karina’s assistant is stealing the show 😍

someone get this girl a modeling contract!

jimin’s smile faltered for a split second before she shrugged. “oh, that one. i didn’t think anyone would notice you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “really? because it looks like everyone noticed me.”

as the day went on, the comments kept pouring in. fans were obsessed with y/n, dubbing her “karina’s pretty assistant” and even creating fan accounts dedicated to her.

jimin, meanwhile, was not handling it well.

“why are they so obsessed with you?” she grumbled, scrolling through the comments during a break in her photoshoot. “you’re not even doing anything in the photo.”

y/n smirked. “maybe they just have good taste.”

jimin glared at her. “this is my instagram. they’re supposed to be talking about me.”

“well, maybe next time you should make sure i’m not in the photo,” y/n said, clearly enjoying jimin’s frustration.

by the time they got home, jimin was in full denial mode. “it’s not that i care,” she said, flopping onto the couch. “i just don’t understand why they’re so interested in you.”

“maybe they think i’m cute,” y/n said, shrugging.

jimin’s eyes narrowed. “you’re not that cute.”

y/n laughed. “says the person who’s been sulking all day because i’m getting more attention than you.”

“i’m not sulking!” jimin protested, crossing her arms. “i just don’t like sharing the spotlight.”

“uh-huh,” y/n said, clearly not convinced.

later that night, jimin found herself scrolling through the comments again. she told herself it was just curiosity, but deep down, she knew it was more than that.

the truth was, jimin didn’t like the idea of y/n being in the spotlight—not because she was jealous of the attention, but because she didn’t want to share her with the world. y/n was hers. her assistant, her confidant, her… well, she wasn’t sure what else, but she knew she didn’t want anyone else to have her.

“stupid comments,” she muttered, tossing her phone aside.

“still obsessing over that photo?” y/n asked, walking into the room with a cup of tea.

“no,” jimin said quickly. “i just… don’t like people assuming things about you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “like what?”

“like… that you’re available,” jimin said, her cheeks turning pink. “or that they can just… have you.”

y/n blinked, surprised by the intensity in jimin’s voice. “jimin, are you… jealous?”

“no!” jimin said, too quickly. “i just… you’re my assistant. that’s all.”

y/n smiled, setting down her tea. “you know, for someone who’s not jealous, you’re acting pretty possessive.”

jimin opened her mouth to argue but stopped when y/n sat down next to her. “look,” y/n said softly. “you don’t have to worry. i’m not going anywhere.”

jimin looked at her, her expression softening. “promise?”

“promise,” y/n said, smiling.

the next day, jimin posted another photo—this time, a selfie with y/n clearly in the frame, smiling this time. the caption read: “my assistant. hands off.”

the comments exploded all over again, but this time, jimin didn’t mind. after all, she’d made her point.

y/n rolled her eyes when she saw the post but couldn’t help smiling. “you’re such a drama queen, jimin.”

“maybe,” jimin said, smirking. “but you’re still mine.”

#aespa karina #karina x reader #yoo jimin #yu jimin #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #karina #yoo jimin x reader #yu jimin x reader #kpop gg #karina fluff #bratty! karina #model! karina #jealous! karina

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bvidzsoo · 3 days ago

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Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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andvys · 2 days ago

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The edges of your soul (I haven’t seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter two

⭐︎ can you see right through me?

Warnings: angst, misunderstandings, post apocalypse, gore, mentions of death, grumpy!steve, grumpy x sunshine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5k+

Summary: You didn’t think that trying to get close to Steve would end up hurting your feelings — but you also didn’t expect to get a glimpse of who he once was, before the darkness of this world dimmed the light in his eyes.

Authors note: Buckle up for the next chapter y’all, it’s gonna be something. always a shoutout to @hellfire--cult who always takes her time to edit and write with me 🩷

⭐︎ series masterlist

⭐︎ prologue ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

On the first day of your official stay in Hawkins, Nancy took you to the greenhouse, you spent all day gardening, taking care of the crops, watering vegetables and fruit, picking the ripe ones and planting new seeds – it amazed you how well everything was growing, you didn’t think that it would be possible after seeing the effects this world had on nature but you suppose that miracles exist after all.

By the end of the day, your knees hurt, your hands felt sore and there was too much soil and dirt under your fingernails, not that you would ever complain, you haven’t felt as much happiness as you did when Steve told you that you were allowed to stay since… well, since your college acceptance letter and that is too long ago.

On your second you cooked french toast with leftover bread that Nancy had made the day before, using fresh eggs – you were surprised when you found out about the little stable with chickens behind the garden, you thought most animals had died. You made ratatouille for dinner, using the freshly picked vegetables from the greenhouse. Nancy and Eddie had complimented your cooking skills, though the reaction you were mostly looking forward to was Steve’s, he only hummed in approval and he got a second plate, you took that as a good sign.

Today, you haven’t been assigned to any tasks yet and you don’t exactly know what to do when you walk down the stairs to find the house empty, well, mostly empty. There are no signs of Eddie and Nancy, you don’t hear him humming, you don’t hear her walking around in the kitchen or somewhere else, the only one around is Steve. He is in the living room, standing in front of the window, holding a cup in one hand while the other is propped against his hip.

The smell of coffee lingers in the air, it must be his third cup, he already had one before breakfast, another during it. You wonder if he is just addicted to the bitterness of it – it certainly matches his attitude. Or if he is just tired and in need of something to keep him awake, you have a feeling that he doesn’t sleep much.

“Where’s everyone?”

Steve doesn’t even flinch, he heard you walking down the stairs, he felt your eyes on him.

“Eddie is working on the RV,” he grumbles, still not fond of the idea of leaving, nothing will change his mind, he is just waiting for his friends to drop it. “Nancy is with him.”

You nod even though he can’t see you. You look around, still holding onto the railing of the stairs. The house is spotless, clean, not a single grain of dust lying around. Eddie is cooking dinner tonight, so there isn’t anything for you to do around here.

Steve takes one last sip and then he puts the mug on the coffee table, not even glancing at you as he turns around and reaches for the gear he had left by the doorway. He puts the gun into his holster, secures the walkie into his belt and lastly he picks up his rifle before he starts making his way over to the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” You ask, not hesitating to follow him.

“Patrol.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him, shaking your head, “I thought you said it’s a two man job.”

He rolls his eyes and stops walking, turning around, he looks down at you, “Eddie and Nancy are busy–”

“I’m not,” you shrug, giving him a smug smile, knowing that he isn’t fond of your company. “I’m coming with you.”

“Can’t you find something else to do–”

“No, I cannot.” You interrupt him as you reach for the door knob and open it, “can’t let you break the rule and let you go out there by yourself, who knows what you might run into. I’m gonna keep an eye out for you, maybe you’ll get distracted with your shoelaces again!”

Steve huffs, clenching his jaw. His eyes move up and down your body, eying your belt, the knives tucked into it, the gun in your thigh holster – he has a hard time believing that any of those things have been used by your hands, you couldn’t even kill the man that had attacked you when you had the chance to – he heard your conversation with Eddie that night, heard what happened, what almost happened to you, you could have killed that man, you should have, but you didn’t.

People like you are not made for this world, it will get you sooner or later.

“Like you’d be able to do anything,” he murmurs under his breath as he steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him.

“What was that?” You turn around to face him.

“Nothing.”

Steve brushes past you, not glancing at you but motioning with his hand for you to follow him, “c’mon.” He makes big steps, fast ones too, forcing you to catch up with him when he is already past the gate and out on the road, walking down the empty street, he ignores the way your footsteps get louder as you hurry to get to his side.

“Jesus, slow down, cowboy.”

Steve scrunches his nose up, furrowing his eyebrows at the nickname you have just called him by.

“Cowboy?” He scoffs as he turns to look at you to see you nodding already, a small but smug smile on your lips, though you look right ahead and not at him. “Why, cowboy?”

“You’re so grumpy and brooding.”

He scoffs again, like you said something crazy, like you didn’t say the truth.

“Who says that cowboys are grumpy and brooding?”

You shrug, “there’s two types of cowboys, the flirty funny ones and the grumpy, brooding ones!”

Steve looks away from you, shaking his head a little. He can’t fight you, knowing you’re right about one thing, he is grumpy. He no longer is the guy he was before all of this, this world that has changed him, and not for the better. He was forced to kill the boy in him when he realized how much he was hurting someone he once loved dearly, he became better, he became a good guy but that guy got his heart broken – that was for the better, as much as it hurt at that time, it was for the better. He became better, he stopped caring about what other people thought of him, he found new friends, he found a best friend, his soulmate.

Robin.

Robin made his world a better place, she fixed his broken heart, she taught him what it was like to have a real friend, an actual best friend. She taught him that love didn’t always have to be romantic, that it could be platonic and that this love could be just as strong as any other.

They had so many plans for the future: leave Hawkins, live in a big city, get a place, figure out a future together.

But then this happened, the world got uglier than before, evil. Their plans got crushed and they were ripped apart. She changed and he did too, and now he can’t be with her whenever he wants, too many things are in the way.

This world had forced him to kill the person he was before all this, he was forced to kill himself a second time.

Steve looks back at you, you don’t seem fazed by this world at all. You’ve been attacked not too long ago and not even that has fazed you, he doesn’t know you, doesn’t know half of your story and all the things you have been through since the day the world had gone to shit but from what he heard, you have seen – encountered some ugly things out there and yet there is something about you, something pure, something… good, something he didn’t think was still out there but he can see it.

He can see it in your eyes, no ounce of hatred resides in them, only goodness, hope that should not even be a thing in this world. You are the complete opposite of him, you are bright, so bright that it almost blinds him, you are all smiles and giggles – and you are so goddamn talkative.

Thirty minutes into patrolling and he fears his ear might fall off from listening to you jumping from one topic to another. So far you have talked about all your favorite movies, bands and books, told him of a specific cowboy character that he reminds you of before saying how much he looks like Patrick Swayze or well, how much his hair looks like Patrick Swayze’s.

You are chattering away, not minding the huffs and sighs that keep falling from his mouth, a signal for you to just shut up. He begins to regret his decision to let you stay.

“I think I made a grave mistake.” He murmurs as he looks around the empty neighbourhood, looking out for any signs of monsters or sick ones.

“What?”

“Nothing. Do you ever shut up?”

To his surprise, you do shut up and for a moment the only thing heard are yours and his footsteps and the leaves rustling from the wind. With a heavy sigh, he turns to look at you. You are pressing your lips together, looking down at the asphalt. He turns away again in satisfaction, enjoying the silence… the silence that doesn’t last long.

“You called the monster demobat before, what does that mean?”

He restrains his eye roll, tries not to clench his jaw.

“Uh…” He pauses, he keeps forgetting that the world doesn’t call the monsters by the names the teens have given them. “Eddie is a fan of a game and he used a name from there to name them…” He cringes at himself.

“Oh!” You say in that voice, the one that pisses him off, the cheerful one. “What game?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.” He replies, hoping that answer is satisfying enough and you finally give him some peace.

“Do you play?”

Steve sighs, tightening his hold on the rifle in his hands. It was a mistake to let you come with him, he hates talking, hates answering questions, hates company.

“No.”

You furrow your eyebrows, tilting your head at him.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have the patience to learn all of that,” he shrugs.

“Why?”

Steve takes a deep breath, he is getting irritated by all your questions but he still turns to you, scrunching his face up as he shrugs again, “I-I don’t know, I don’t wanna be a nerd like him?”

You raise your eyebrows, lips parting, your head is still tilted – you look like a fucking curious puppy, he has to look away. He almost sighs in relief when he sees the house at the end of the road.

“It’s a nerd game?”

He huffs loudly, glaring at nothing in particular, “seriously, can you keep quiet for more than two seconds!?” He snaps at you, forcing you to be quiet… for a moment.

He counts the seconds, one… two… You are quiet, it’s almost nice to enjoy the silence again, almost.

He hears you taking a deep breath.

“What was your job before the world ended? Cop?”

Three seconds. Three fucking seconds.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmurs under his breath and he finally stops walking, looking up at the sky, he places his hands on his hips and takes a deep breath before he turns to face you.

You halt in your tracks and turn to face him as well, taking in the sight of his deep frown, of the irritation in his hazel eyes and the annoyance that radiates right off him. You almost get nervous, almost.

“What the fuck,” he grumbles at you, “are you always this talkative?” He asks, stunned. He will be forced to get used to this.

“You don’t ask me anything, so I have to make conversation,” you shrug, pulling your hands up in front of you, “I haven’t had a good talk in months, I have pent up words.”

And you chose him out of… three people – that is… he doesn’t know what to think of this.

“Yeah, Eddie is the best choice for this, not me.”

The frown on your face says otherwise, your eyes move up and down before they stop at his face again, he doesn’t know what you are exactly looking at or searching for but he needs you to stop. He shifts and huffs again, tapping his fingers against the rifle that he holds on for dear life.

“But I want to talk to you.”

He blinks, staring at you like he didn’t understand what you just said, he tries not to look at anything but your eyes.

“Horrible decision.”

You break eye contact, looking away to take in the view around you, you sigh at his words and shrug before you continue walking, making him follow you this time.

“I don’t think so.” You pause and look back over your shoulder to see if he is following. “Don’t you have any questions for me?”

“Uh…”

He does.

But he won’t ask. He can’t. He just can’t, the less he knows the better.

He looks down awkwardly, clearing his throat, “how old are you?”

This time you scoff and shake your head at him, “seriously?”

“What?” He frowns, looking up to see you staring at him with a confused pout – jesus christ.

You sigh and roll your eyes, of course he asks the most boring question.

"Twenty-two."

His eyes widen and his lips part – this might be the first other expression you see on his face other than the constant frown. He stares like you have grown two heads.

“You’re a fucking year older than me!?”

Oh.

Oh…

You didn’t expect to be older than him either, though you aren’t as surprised as he is, he looks shocked even. He stops walking again, you do too.

“So… what about it…?” You ask quietly, lifting your shoulders.

Steve notices the unsure look on your face, the way your eyes move back and forth between his own and the ground, the way you cross your arms over your chest, like you are suddenly insecure.

He clears his throat, straightening up as he blinks himself out of his stupor.

“I… nothing. Nevermind.” He retorts, ready to drop that topic.

“No, tell me.”

For some reason, he can’t look at you when he opens his mouth again.

“You don’t act your age.”

“Oh?” Your voice is suddenly higher than before, hopeful, “do I act older?”

He pulls his brows together, not looking at you yet, finding the ground beneath him very interesting all the sudden.

“...Sure.”

You don’t reply this time, don’t say anything to it, don’t ask any more questions, you simply turn around after a beat of silence, you start walking again, giving him your back.

He counts the seconds, one… two… three. You give him the silence that he wanted this whole time. You don’t look at him either. He got what he wanted but when the awkwardness fills the space between you both, he suddenly feels a sliver of guilt rising up in him, he knows he must’ve hit a sore spot and he can’t help but kick himself for it.

A part of him wants to apologize, the other wants him to stay quiet – the stronger side wins though.

“I uh–”

Though you don’t give him the chance to keep going, you pick up your pace when you see Nancy on the porch, walking away from him quickly, not wanting to spend another second beside him.

He watches you basically flee from him, it makes him sigh and it makes him halt in his tracks. Frustration bubbling up inside of him, a voice in his head calling him ‘dumbass’. He sighs softly, brings his hand up to his head, he runs his fingers through it nervously.

He hit a sore spot, one that made you stop talking to him, one that prevented him from finding out more about you.

It’s for the better.

Yeah, he knows it’s for the better.

Eddie cooked dinner and Nancy set the table tonight, neither of them noticed the lack of attention you were giving to the man sitting across from you or how he kept looking at you, not with hatred or anger in his eyes but with guilt.

He hates that feeling, he hates feeling guilt or regret towards someone he barely knows, towards someone he does not want to let in. He knows that he hurt you with what he said, with how he reacted, he didn’t mean to, he couldn’t have known either – he didn’t react badly, he thought, and yet it shut you up and it made you stop looking at him.

It’s for the better. He kept telling that to himself, kept repeating it in his head, over and over again until he could no longer stand these words.

He notices that your plate is still filled with food, you only ate half of it. The whole time you sat there and pushed around the vegetables on your plate, you looked a little lost, your eyes were troubled, you looked far gone, like you weren’t at the table. Nancy and Eddie didn’t notice as they were busy talking about some news Dustin had shared from the radio station earlier.

“You’re gonna like Dustin,” Eddie says, nudging your shoulder.

Steve watches the way you blink, the way you plaster a smile on your face before you look at Eddie.

Nancy hums, nodding, “yeah, he was always my favorite out of my brother’s friends.”

You squint your eyes, like you are trying to remember something, “your brother is… Mike, right?”

“Yeah, hold on!” She gets up all the sudden, walking away from the table and out of the room, she comes back a moment later with a book in her hand – a photo album. She sits back down beside you and pushes away her empty plate before she slams the album on the table and opens it, flipping the pages, she furrows her eyebrows as she looks for a certain picture, “wait… there it is!”

She points at the picture of a group of four boys, dressed in Ghostbusters costumes. A smile instantly appears on your face and your eyes light up, “aw! They’re little Ghostbusters!”

Eddie chuckles at the picture, even Steve smiles but you don’t notice.

“That’s Mike,” she points at her brother, before she moves her finger to the boys next to him, “that’s Will and Lucas, and lastly that is Dustin!” She points at the curly haired boy.

“Adorable,” you smile, thinking of your own brother. “My brother loves Ghostbusters too, although he’s way older than they are.” You chuckle.

Steve’s eyes are back on you, he didn’t know you had a brother… but then again, he doesn’t know anything about you. It’s for the better.

“Well, that was a few years back, they’re not the tiny humans they used to be,” Nancy laughs sadly. She flips to the next page, “that’s them now – or well, that was them before the world went to shit, I’m sure Mike is even taller now and his hair is longer too.”

The picture shows them at a skatepark, Dustin is grinning into the camera, Mike’s arms are crossed, a grumpy look resting on his face, Will is smiling, Lucas is looking down at the girl leaning into his side.

“That’s Max,” Eddie points at the redhead, “she’s kinda scary.”

You giggle at the serious tone in his voice.

“I have to agree with that.” Steve snorts, earning a short glance from you. He pulls his sleeves up and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest.

Your eyes lock with his for a moment, though you quickly look back down.

There is another picture of Mike and Dustin, both of them wearing the same shirt – The Hellfire Club.

“What’s that?” You point at their matching shirts to which Eddie straightens up in his seat, already grinning.

Nancy and Steve groan at him, causing you to frown.

“I’m glad you asked, sweetheart.” He pauses, looking at Steve smugly.

“That was his nerdy game club that I told you about before,” he rolls his eyes.

“You didn’t tell me he had a club!”

“Shame on you, Harrington. It was the best thing to ever exist beside Corroded Coffin, of course.”

You know all about Eddie’s band already, he told you about it on your first night here, and showed you pictures of his sweetheart.

“I beg to differ–”

Nancy sighs loudly beside you, leaning back in her chair as she prepares herself for their banter.

“Dustin, my buddy, was very passionate about the club.” Eddie grins.

“Oh yeah, that little nerd you stole from me?” Steve retorts, squinting his eyes at the metalhead.

“I didn’t steal him, I’m just cooler than you, Harrington–”

“You– You literally play a boardgame, how is that cool? I was prom king!”

“Oh my god,” Nancy mumbles, shaking her head.

Her reaction tells you that she is used to this, and sick of it.

You though, you can’t help but be amused, looking back and forth between them.

“Cry me a river, Henderson thinks I’m better, in fact, all teens do.” Eddie shrugs and reaches for his beer.

“Except Lucas,” Steve smirks.

Eddie nearly chokes on his beer when he straightens up in his seat, “I apologized!”

Steve shrugs at him this time, taking a sip of the whiskey he poured himself earlier.

“What about you, sweets?” Eddie asks, turning to look at you, “what did you do in high school?”

Nancy turns to you, as well as Steve – and suddenly all eyes are on you and you can’t help but feel a little flustered beneath their gazes.

“I uh… I was prom queen…” You admit shyly, not looking at the hazel eyes that stare at you intensely.

Eddie’s eyes widen, “oh, we have royalty up in here, Wheeler.”

Nancy giggles at his reaction, more so at the look on your face. She’s not surprised, you’re beautiful and sweet.

“You were prom queen?”

Out of the three people around you, you least expected him to ask you anything, but just like before, the tone in his voice, his reaction leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You slowly look up at him.

“You sound surprised and I’m kinda offended. Am I that ugly?” you joke but he notices how your shoulders fall a little.

His cheeks heat up and he wants nothing more than to roll his eyes at Nancy’s and Eddie’s judging faces towards him. He shakes his head at you, “I– no, I didn’t mean that… I mean it’s not all about looks anyways.”

You purse your lips and furrow your eyebrows at his words, taking a deep breath, “...so I am ugly?”

Nancy huffs beside you, glaring daggers into Steve.

“I didn’t say that, I’m just saying that apart from looks… people vote for nice people,” he mumbles, shifting in his seat and under your gaze.

Nancy is back to pinching the bridge of her nose, begging him with her eyes to just shut up.

If only you looked to your right, you would have seen the stunned and comical look on Eddie’s face.

“So you’re saying I’m nice?” You tilt your head at Steve, growing a little satisfied with the way he is squirming around.

He sighs, clenching his jaw and turns away from you, “I’m done with this conversation.”

“...You were a fucking asshole in high school. You got prom king because Billy was a bigger asshole.”

“Were?” You blurt out, making him look back at you stunned.

Nancy hides her giggle with a cough, earning a glare from him.

“He redeemed himself at Scoops Ahoy,” Eddie smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Scoops Ahoy?”

Steve shakes his head at him, if looks could kill, Eddie would be lying on the floor, right now.

“Mhmm,” Eddie nods. “He was an ice cream man, and wore a sailor outfit too.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, stunned. You can’t even imagine that. “I refuse to picture him in a silly sailor outfit, I need proof or else I won’t believe it.”

“Too bad. Every picture of me in that outfit is burned.” Steve declares, looking very convinced until he sees the smirk on Nancy’s face.

He clears his throat before he leans closer to the table, “Nancy Wheeler… do you have a fucking picture–”

“No, I was just smiling,” she shrugs but pulls out two pictures from the album and hands them to you, giving him a smug smile.

“No way,” you mumble as you take a good look at them. There he is, the man you thought had a serious job before all of this actually worked at an ice cream shop, wearing a sailor outfit, in the first picture he even wears a silly hat as he serves ice cream to someone not part of the picture. His hair was much shorter back then, so different from the mullet he now has. His eyes are crinkled, his smile so big and bright, his cheeks slightly pink, unlike the pale color in them now. He looked so different, he looked happy, he looked like a different person.

You glance over at him to find him staring at you already, watching you. His hazel eyes are cold, the frown on his face so deep you are surprised there aren’t any lines on his skin yet, the light in his eyes has faded. There is nothing left of the guy he was before, at least at first glance.

You look back down and focus on the second picture, placing it on top of the other – it turns out to be a mistake because for some reason, your eyes like what they see, a little too much. With his hands behind his back, he stands against a brick wall, wearing the same sailor outfit, though this time without the hat, his hair styled yet messy, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. You don’t know what it is about that picture, perhaps it’s his broad shoulders, the blonde highlights in his hair, the tanned skin or the way the golden light shines on him but he looks handsome – it’s something you haven’t noticed before, you aren’t blind, he is a good looking man but you couldn’t really see it before, not this clearly at least. His rude and mean attitude made it impossible to see, you couldn’t look past it.

Your cheeks heat up a little, your ears do too, you sink deeper into your seat, hoping that none of them notice how flustered you feel.

But Eddie does, he notices the way your eyes are basically glued to that picture, Nancy notices as well – they both glance at each other, amused. And Steve, he notices too, of course he does… The Steve from back then would have loved it, the flustered look on your face.

As you hold the picture, you notice that the sides are frazzled, like a part is missing, like something or someone was cut out of both pictures. You look over them, taking a look at all the pictures lying around, of the teenagers, of other people you haven’t anything about yet, of Nancy’s family, of Eddie and Dustin and it only now dawns on you, that you stepped into something, that these people haven’t found each other in this world but in the one before – a tight circle, a family.

A family you don’t belong in, you intruded – and now even more than before, you understand why Steve didn’t want you here, it wasn’t only about him not trusting you, it was about you stepping into something he didn’t want you to be a part of.

This is his place of comfort that he didn’t want to share with a stranger.

You hand the picture back to Nancy and reach for the wine Eddie had poured for you earlier, you take a big sip.

Maybe you should have left when he told you to, maybe you should have done him a favor, you shouldn’t have broken into someone else’s home.

“Is your brother older or younger?”

It wasn’t Nancy’s voice, nor was it Eddie’s.

It’s Steve’s.

Not only do you look at him in surprise but also Nancy and Eddie. He ignores them though, keeping his eyes on you.

You blink, putting the wine glass back down, you lick your lips.

“Uh… he is older, he’s twenty four.”

“Is he with your parents?” Nancy asks.

You nod.

“Yeah, he was home from college when it all… started. That idiot broke his leg during lacrosse, I don’t know why he kept trying with it, he was never the most athletic,” you chuckle.

“Yeah, me neither. I always hated anything sport related,” Eddie says with wide eyes, earning a snort from Steve.

“You’d get along well, he’s a major nerd.”

“Are you calling me a nerd, sweetheart?” Eddie pretends to be offended.

“Uh,” you look him up and down, “yeah, major nerd just like my brother.”

He nudges your side with his elbow, chuckling at the look on your face.

Steve hides the smile on his face, looking down at his hands.

“I’m hoping to get home, see a big gate surrounding my house, and I bet that asshole has a semi-automatic somewhere and is pretending to be in a zombie movie or something,” you chuckle. “He always dragged dad and me to the theater and forced us to watch the goriest shit. I used to hate it, now I want it back more than anything.”

“Hey,” Eddie says softly, smiling at you. “Maybe you’ll do it again someday, maybe not at the theater but you could do movie nights with your family.”

And his smile slowly fades again, he doubts that you will see your family again, he doubts that you’ll find them how you want to. He thinks it’s wrong of Eddie to fuel your hope, he is doing more damage than anything else and it’s gonna hurt even more when you find your family dead.

There is no hope for anything or anyone in this world, it’s a foolish thing to have.

You shrug, a smile on your face as you get up from the table to rush upstairs. Everyone just sits there wide eyed, looking at each other, hearing how there’s some stumping and then, something falling, and then you are cursing. Two seconds later you are coming back downstairs with something in your hands.

“This is my family.” You put the polaroids on the table, the ones you took back to camp so you would not miss your family so much. “That’s my mom, my dad, and the idiot of my brother.”

They all grab a picture each. Eddie’s picture was of the four of you smiling while camping. Nancy’s was a picture of a family trip to the grand canyon, but Steve’s picture was something that made his heart shrink for some reason. The four of you were laughing, surrounding a christmas tree. You were younger, probably a teen, and it made him think of how now your personality made sense.

You were never shown anything but love. Something he never experienced from his own family. He was slightly jealous at your picture, and he knew you were the only one between the four of you that had a normal and loving family. Nancy’s parents didn’t seem to love one another, Eddie’s father was an abusive asshole that ended up in jail and his mother passed away, and then there was Steve. Even with the apocalypse happening, his parents didn’t even care to find him. Find out if he was dead or not.

His eyes moved upwards to find you looking at him, and he wondered why you had a frown on your face. It wasn’t a second later that he felt his eyes burning and you could see the glistening of tears forming. He can’t cry. It’s stupid to cry about his family now. It’s stupid to cry about something he knew all along. It’s stupid to cry over people that he knew never cared for him.

“Your brother looks like Eddie.” Nancy suddenly speaks, making him look at her as well as you and Eddie. The metalhead tilts his head as he grabs Nancy’s picture and–

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Sure, it was a picture of you four in the grand canyon, but it was your dad’s birthday, and your dad has a fear of pigs. Your brother had the greatest idea to put a pig's head over his head for the picture, and your dad was simply screaming bloody murder while you and your mom laughed.

“I mean, my brother doesn’t play that game you do, but he is a fan of star wars, and he read a lot of books! He liked one called The Hobbit?” Nancy and Steve groaned loudly at your words, which made you confused for just a few seconds and then you realized your mistake when Eddie was talking your ear off about why your brother was so cool, and the reason for that was because the plot for the hobbit was incredible.

And he explained it bit by bit and you didn’t know how to escape him. He was still talking about it like a kid on christmas as Nancy and Steve started washing the dishes, and you wanted to hit yourself for your big mouth. In all fairness, you didn’t know Eddie was gonna get as excited as he did.

“Anyways, what matters is, your brother is cool, so is Dustin and the other teens and Steve sucks.” At the sudden insult, Steve turns around with his hands covered in soap.

“What?” Eddie opened his mouth to probably repeat his words, only for Steve to shake his hands on his face, making the soap fly all around as well as water, and getting into Eddie’s mouth.

“GOD–” He screeched loudly as he got up from the table, rushing towards the sink to try to wash his tongue with the water while Nancy screamed at him to not waste it. Steve was smirking and all you could do was just stare at him. He was being playful. He was being more than the grumpy self he claimed to be with you. You started laughing loudly when Eddie insulted Steve with his tongue out, trying to not taste the soap anymore.

Steve shrugged as he wiped his hands away, turning to look at you doubling over in laughter and it made him feel less guilty for his actions of before. You weren’t immature. Your world was just always filled with love and affirmations, and you just wanted people to feel the same exact way you felt. It was a lost cause for him, but he felt good for making you laugh like this. It’s been a while since he made someone laugh.

It’s a good sound.

☀︎

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#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #grumpy x sunshine #found family

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megalony · 2 days ago

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Matters Of The Heart- Part 2

It's been too long since I posted the first part of this Evan Buckley imagine, but here is finally the second part.

I hope you will all like it, feedback always makes my day.

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Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: (Y/n) and Evan keep their relationship private, but they're happy. But when (Y/n) falls pregnant, she doesn't know what to do; she's suffered miscarriages before and worries this will end up the same way.

Enjoy.

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"So… how'd it go? You never said." Hen slumped herself down on the sofa and folded her left arm over the back of the sofa. She propped her head up on her hand and curled her knees up on the seat while her eyes focused on the girl sitting in front of her.

(Y/n) couldn't lift her gaze from the steaming cup of coffee she was nursing like she was trying to bring it back to life. Her fingers grazed up and down the red speckled cup and she brought her knees closer to her chest before she finally looked up.

Part of (Y/n) hoped they wouldn't have to have this conversation. It was unnaturally easy to know just what subject Hen was talking about without needing any other details.

Hen had become more than a little nervous after finding (Y/n) with the pregnancy test last week. And she was growing more and more worried by the day when she didn't get a call or even a text to say how it had ended up.

"You can talk to me, you know."

She knew. (Y/n) knew she could open up to Hen with just about anything. She could of said she'd murdered someone and Hen would still try to understand and help her through it. That was how close they had gotten while working together and it was something (Y/n) loved about her friend. That she was always so willing to listen attentively and try to help in any way she could.

But (Y/n) didn't want any help right now, even if part of her wondered if she needed it.

A big part of her was saying to lie. False alarm. It was negative. Nothing to worry about. Her mind was screaming at her to tell any one of those lies and brush this under the rug. Push it away and hope that the conversation, and the event itself, would fade into a distant memory.

But telling a lie didn't make it a truth, no matter how hard (Y/n) wished for it to be so. She took a quick look around the loft, making sure no one else was within ear shot before she spoke.

"Positive." The word fell from her lips like a droplet of rain cascading down from the clouds. Quiet, soft, disappearing as soon as it was seen.

She watched Hen move her hand round from cradling the back of her head to run across her mouth and across her cheek. The way Hen pursed her lips and looked down showed she was trying to think. She was trying to come up with an answer, some sort of comforting phrase or some logic that might make this seem less frightening.

"Have you gone to the doctors yet? I'll go with you if you want." Hen knew it was frightening to go to the doctors for just about any reason. Let alone going to talk about a new pregnancy like this when (Y/n) was already so worried and certain that it would end badly.

If she didn't want to go alone- something Hen would not recommend at all- then Hen would gladly go along with her for moral support and help her talk through this and decide what she wanted to do.

"I'm not going, at least not yet." Maybe it was the stubbornness within her heart, but (Y/n) didn't want to.

She didn't want to see a doctor and have this dream confirmed, only to have it crushed in a few weeks. Her mind was made up on the fact that pregnancy was not something her body was capable of doing.

(Y/n) would rather wait a few weeks and see if she miscarried. If by some miracle she didn't, then she would go to the doctor and see if this was going to be possible and get herself checked out. She would rather live in denial than try and bask in this dream because all dreams broke eventually. Everyone had to wake up and this was going to be a harsh awakening when it eventually happened.

"You should get checked out, after last time you might develop complications, we should make sure you're okay at least."

Tears bubbled over in (Y/n)'s eyes but she did her best to push them aside and she took a large gulp of coffee. Relishing in the way it burned the back of her throat and ignited something in her chest and calmed down the panicked butterflies swarming to life.

She knew having an ectopic pregnancy before put her at risk of having other complications. She could have another ectopic pregnancy, although it was rare, it wasn't unheard of. But (Y/n) couldn't bring herself to care. She couldn't care because she couldn't let herself believe this was happening. Ignoring this was the only way (Y/n) knew how to cope.

This was something she wanted. This was something she would choose, to have a baby, and to see Evan with a baby made (Y/n)'s heart do a funny sort of leap in her chest like it was agreeing with her.

But if she told him now and then she lost the baby, she would have given Evan unnecessary heartbreak and all for nothing. And if (Y/n) let herself indulge in this fantasy and believe she was going to have a baby, how bad was it going to be when the bubble burst?

"Not yet."

"Then… then can you promise me you'll get an appointment in what, two or three weeks? You need to look after yourself and you know the rules; if you are, you can't be on full duties." Hen lowered her voice towards the end of her words and ducked her head closer to (Y/n)'s as if to make sure only she heard those words.

They had rules at the station for a reason and (Y/n) had to look after herself. She had to make sure she was okay to be at work and that she wasn't struggling or having any complications that could put her at risk.

And if she was pregnant, she had to be on restricted duties to keep her and the baby safe. That wasn't negotiable and Hen didn't want to get to the point where she had to go and talk to Bobby for (Y/n)'s safety or find out (Y/n) was trying to hide this pregnancy from everyone and carry on working. She would put herself at risk and if she got hurt or she collapsed, they would all feel responsible.

Not to mention the fact that (Y/n) wouldn't be liable for sick leave or any compensation and could in fact be reprimanded if she was hurt while pregnant on the job and hadn't disclosed the news at the earliest opportunity.

"Two weeks, I swear."

It didn't feel like enough time. (Y/n) could feel her throat closing up and her head started to swim at the thought of a timer she had now set off in the back of her head.

Two weeks. That was barely any time at all, but it was the limit because (Y/n) knew she had to be two or closer to three months along by now. And fourteen weeks was as far as she had ever gotten before she lost the baby. She had to get checked out before that marker to see if she was in danger and then she would need to be careful.

She would need to wait for the inevitable.

In two weeks, she would make herself an appointment with her doctor and ask Hen to tag along with her so she didn't have to do this on her own.

"Are you going to tell Eddie? I think you should, you need support-"

"It's not Eddie's."

She couldn't help the sharp tone to her voice or the way she cringed as she spoke. Somehow, (Y/n) felt like she was making a scene of herself by admitting that fact, simply because it implied she had been with someone else. It wasn't as if she had ever cheated on Eddie and they had never been in a labelled relationship. It had simply been a fling when they both needed someone, and it ended on good terms.

But (Y/n) didn't like admitting that she had gotten into another relationship and hadn't mentioned it to anyone on the team. That she hadn't mentioned it to Hen, her best friend. It made her feel sleezy, like she had a secret that was too sordid to tell.

(Y/n) put her cup down on the coffee table and let her feet slide down to the floor. "I told you, we're just friends. Besides, that was almost two years ago."

She could see it. She could see in Hen's eyes that she wanted to ask. She wanted to be curious and ask if (Y/n) had met someone special or if she was finally happy with someone. Because for the last few months, she had started to notice a change in (Y/n). She was happier, more confident in herself and her work and she was starting to come out of her shell and go out after work.

There was someone that made (Y/n) happy and that was all that Hen had ever wanted for her.

But before Hen could ask, a familiar alarm blared out above them and both girls groaned and dropped their heads forward.

A new call.

Here we go again.

***

"He's coding, starting compressions." A deep grunt left Evan's lips as he pushed up from his seat in the ambulance until he was bent over the gurney.

His hands interlocked and pressed down against the victim's chest as he began CPR compressions. He tensed his back and pushed his knees into the frame of the gurney to keep steady when the ambulance swerved to the left.

His eyes glanced up to the right to check Chimney had the air bag placed over the victim's nose and mouth to give him oxygen while Evan kept pressing down. CPR never settled well with Evan after he had tried to save someone once and fractured two of her ribs. He could still hear the spine-tingling crunch and the way he felt the bone cave beneath his hands and he hadn't even applied that much pressure.

But he could see that Chimney had his hands full trying to stem the bleeding in the man's neck and give him a saline drip. There was no use Chimney moving round when Evan was sat right at the man's side and available to do the compressions.

This wasn't the direction Evan imagined today's shift going. The daily reports got heavier when they had to give CPR and if the man didn't survive that would mean triple the paperwork. This was the part of the job that always made Evan nervous. He could climb cranes and run into burning buildings and clip to a harness and go down into craters. But having to try and keep someone's heart beating and giving them each breath they needed, that didn't settle right with him. It was too panicking.

Why had he been the one to climb in the back of the ambulance? This should have been Eddie or even (Y/n), both of them were trained medics. Evan wasn't a medic. But they had been giving statements to the police on scene, Hen was driving the ambulance and that meant Evan had to be the one to move the gurney along with Chimney and look after their victim.

It was a relief when the ambulance screeched to a stop and Evan knew he could soon hand this patient over to the professionals. This wasn't part of the job he wanted to be doing, he would rather let the doctors take over.

"Still no pulse," Chimney locked eyes with Evan who paused his compressions to check for a pulse.

With a deep breath, he began pressing down again as Hen opened the back door. They had to keep going, he had only just lost his pulse, they could keep his heart going until the doctors got it working properly or pronounced him dead.

"We need to move him." Evan locked eyes with Hen and dipped his head towards the end of the gurney so she got his point.

He would continue compressions if they would move the gurney and get them into the hospital.

Evan glanced down, never pausing his movements as he stood onto the metal beams beneath the gurney that he prayed would take his weight. The grooves of his boots slotted over the metal and locked him in place while his knees bent and locked in place and he hunched forward to keep his sense of balance.

There was no way Evan could successfully continue compressions if he had to walk and rush beside the stretcher. He needed to be stood in place and the only way to do that was to climb onto the gurney too.

He continued compressions while Chimney and Hen carefully clicked off the brakes and slid the gurney down from the ambulance onto the floor.

Evan couldn't look up from his task, he was far too focused and intent on keeping a steady compression rhythm, but his arms were beginning to grow tired and his back was aching. They were supposed to switch every two minutes because continuous compressions was a hard thing to keep up.

Although he didn't look up, Evan could hear the sound of the fire truck's sirens before they were switched off and the rumbling engine quietened down. Bobby, (Y/n) and Eddie had turned up on scene.

A quiet "Oh Jesus," muttered beneath Eddie's breath and his hands clamped down on his hips when they climbed down from the truck and looked over towards the rest of the team. They were performing CPR. Thing weren't looking good for their victim.

The sight of Evan hunched over the gurney, fingers interlaced, shoulders squared up and back doubled over made (Y/n)'s blood curdle. Evan looked so engrossed in his task, so determined and desperate and she could see his lips were curled into a rabid look that was making his nose crinkle.

He never took it well when they lost people on the job.

(Y/n) bound her arms around her middle as she followed after the gurney, her eyes locked on Evan. She followed along behind Chimney who was pushing the gurney while Hen was at the other end, pulling and steering them in the right direction.

She could feel Eddie and Bobby hovering close behind, the sound of their footsteps bashing on the pavement echoed in (Y/n)'s head that felt like a drum being violently whacked until it was about to split like a coconut.

It took all her effort to stop herself from breaking out into trembles. They had been working all day without a proper break and (Y/n) hadn't managed to stomach any lunch. She knew that once they got back to the station she would have to try and have a protein drink and take a minute to rest and build herself back up before they went on another call.

"Come on, let's go."

The guttural sound of Evan's voice made (Y/n) shudder and she picked up her pace even though she knew he wasn't talking to her, he was telling Chimney and Hen to hurry with the gurney.

Reaching one hand out, Chimney pressed his palm down on Evan's back to try and steady him as they steered through into the paramedic entrance to the emergency room. He knew Evan wasn't about to fall off but the twisting corners was making it harder for him to keep his balance and perform the resuscitation compressions.

As soon as a free nurse saw them, she waved them along and the stretcher was moving again, setting Evan's body back to being tense and stiff as a board to stay composed.

"He coded on the way, no pulse for one minute, punctured artery in the neck."

"Someone needs to take over from me now." Evan continued his compressions but his own chest was heaving and his arms were aching. Not to mention keeping his balance was causing his knees to bruise against the gurney and his thighs were locking up from how tense he had become.

He was grateful when a nurse hurried over to the opposite side of the gurney and on the count of three, Evan pulled back to let her start the compressions instead.

His legs felt like they had turned to liquid and from his ankles up to his thighs he was trembling with pins and needles and excess adrenaline.

His hand tangled in the short curls at the back of his head and he took a few steps away from the stretcher that was already being guided away. While Chimney gave the full spiel to one of the nurses so they had all the information they needed.

"Alright guys, I think that's our part over."

Bobby's voice seemed to go in one ear and out the other for (Y/n). She heard him, but she couldn't register what he was saying. Each word sounded foreign and she could make no sense of them. All she could fathom was how horrid her heartbeat sounded pulsing through her ears and how it was making her chest feel uncomfortable to notice and feel each beat rock through her chest.

Her nose crinkled and her eyes scanned around the corridor they were blocking. Maybe she needed to go back outside and get some fresh air and sit down.

She didn't get chance to try and walk outside. (Y/n)'s legs didn't feel like they were under her control anymore.

When her head lolled forward, her body followed its sense of direction and before she could reach out or stop herself, her body crumpled to the floor like a puppet without its strings. Her chin tucked down into her chest and white static filled her ears when her head collided with the polished laminate floor.

Her arms flopped around her waist and (Y/n) barely had the energy she needed to scrape her arms along the floor and bind them around her middle. She wanted to curl her knees and bring them up to her stomach, but it was too much effort that she didn't have.

"Shit!"

"(Y/n)? Hey, hey what's going on?"

Evan's nails scratched into the back of his scalp so suddenly that he hissed in pain as he spun on his heels to look behind him. His wide eyes narrowed slightly when he looked at his girlfriend and he could feel his chest stutter and pause as he tried to take in what was happening and why she was suddenly flat out on the floor.

Evan tried. He tried to bottle down the panic and overwhelming sense of urgency that was making him desperate to rush over there and push his colleagues out the way. No one knew about their relationship yet and Evan didn't think this would be the right time to break that news.

They were only keeping things quiet so it didn't cause any speculation or drama at work. And for Eddie's sake. Evan knew Eddie wouldn't be resentful, but it might make things awkward if he learned that his best friend was now in a relationship with someone Eddie used to have a fling with. They didn't want work to become awkward or for their friendships to be strained in any way.

Shallow breaths stuttered past Evan's lips as he skidded against the floor and hurried after Chimney to crowd around (Y/n). Both of them leaned in close but it took all of Evan's willpower not to crouch down and take over. He wasn't a medic and he didn't want them to know how close he really was to (Y/n).

He swallowed harshly when he watched Eddie and Hen crouch down beside (Y/n).

Eddie whipped the pen light from his top pocket and carefully held (Y/n)'s temple, tilting her head back so he could flash the light across her pupils that were constricting and barely able to see a thing.

"She's burning up." Eddie flipped his hand over so the back of his hand was pressed against (Y/n)'s forehead, but he could feel the sweat that was sticking his hand to her skin. She was burning a fever and she looked flushed. Why hadn't she said something? Why hadn't any of them noticed this earlier?

Panic bridled through Hen but she did her best to calm herself down while she pointed one hand behind her. "Chim, medic bag."

Once the bag was in her hand, Hen rummaged through and found a blood pressure cuff which she slid up (Y/n)'s arm while Eddie focused on trying to get (Y/n) to form a coherent word and focus. And Bobby's footsteps could be heard retreating down the hall to find a nurse. (Y/n) would needed to be examined and checked out before they even thought about taking her back to the station.

Even if this was just a funny turn or a sickness bug, she would have to be seen by a doctor and then signed off for the rest of her shift.

"(Y/n), are you still with me? Does anything hurt?" Eddie clipped an oxygen monitor onto her index finger and watched to see what reading he got for her pulse. But his eyes continuously flitted up to (Y/n)'s face, waiting to see if she would or if she even could answer him.

Her eyes were rolling around and trying their best to focus on him but she was half unconscious.

A groan left her lips and her body jerked before she pressed her cheek and temple into the ground. But when her lips parted, her throat tightened and she spewed up a puddle of water. Not surprising since she hadn't managed to eat any lunch today.

"Okay, I think she's gonna be dehydrated." Eddie tried his best to be careful when he nudged (Y/n) back towards the wall so she wasn't near the water she'd just thrown up.

He edged closer to her, relieved when her eyes finally opened and she seemed a bit more coherent and like she was able to see him this time rather than stare right through him as if he were invisible.

"BP's starting to crash. She's either run down or caught an infection, she needs to be admitted." Hen rolled up the blood pressure cuff and folded it back into the medic bag and her hands braced on her thighs as she resisted the urge to sigh.

It wasn't her place to tell anyone on the team that (Y/n) was pregnant and that this could be due to morning sickness. And she certainly didn't want to think about this meaning (Y/n) might just be losing the baby. Hen knew (Y/n) was dead set on the fact that she believed this wasn't going to work out. She didn't think she could have a baby and she seemed to be waiting for the day that it went downhill and this dream faded into a nightmare.

Hen wanted to believe that this was simply (Y/n) being rundown or suffering with a bit of sickness rather than thinking. But in the end it didn't matter what Hen chose to believe or even what (Y/n) was thinking right now. All that mattered was getting a doctor to check her over and find out what was happening.

"Alright guys let's get her on the stretcher and someone will take a look at her." Bobby patted Hen's shoulder and indicated to the stretcher behind him where a nurse was standing by.

There were assessment cubicles free, the nurse would take (Y/n) into one of them and check her over. They couldn't stay here in case other ambulances came back and needed to come through. They were blocking the corridor.

Evan took that as his moment to weave in between Hen and Eddie so he could try and make himself useful. He didn't like standing back and watching, especially when it was (Y/n) who needed help. And Hen seemed to understand because she shuffled back and got to her feet to help guide the stretcher over, letting Evan take her place.

He tried to catch (Y/n)'s eye once Eddie eased her into a sitting position, but she wouldn't look at him. She wouldn't look at any of them, her eyes were trained on her trembling hands that were laid limp against her thighs.

He slid his hands beneath (Y/n)'s thighs, trying not to grip her too tightly while Eddie hooked his hands beneath her arms and on the count of three, they lifted her between them. They eased her onto the stretcher and Evan didn't like the way (Y/n)'s head lolled to the right like she was about to slide back onto the floor.

Evan quickly reached his hand up to hold (Y/n)'s shoulder, gently pushing her back against the stretcher to keep her in place.

The nurse and Eddie began steering the stretcher down the corridor towards the assessment cubicles with the team following along like an entourage. When Evan heard Chimney mutter to Bobby "Do we stay with her?" he turned in their direction and stood outside the cubicle that (Y/n) got wheeled into.

"I can stay." Evan knew it wasn't strictly protocol for everyone to stay, no matter how close they all were and how they all wanted to make sure (Y/n) was alright. The rest of the team would need to go back to the station to finish shift and handover to the next crew. And they were already a person down with (Y/n) now being here.

"Are you sure Buck?"

"My shift is technically finished anyway, I'll stay with her and when I know what's happening I'll call you."

He would be finishing in twenty minutes or so, there was no point everyone staying or someone else staying and Evan going back to the station for a mere twenty minutes. He may as well wait along with (Y/n). Plus, he was her partner. There was no way Evan could go back on shift and just wait around for news. He would finish and come straight back here anyway.

He didn't quite like the look of contemplation on Eddie's face as he stood in the doorway, hands on hips and one knee jutting forward. He looked like he wanted to interrupt, to debate and say that he wanted to stay instead. But when Bobby nodded and patted Evan's shoulder, Eddie seemed to relent.

He couldn't really argue when the rest of them needed to be back on shift and they all couldn't stay here.

A look of contemplation flooded Hen's eyes as she leaned over the bed (Y/n) had been transferred onto. She knew she would have to go now with the rest of the team, but she wanted to double check (Y/n) was okay with that. If she wanted Hen to stay or talk to the doctors for her, then she would.

Her hand slid down to hold (Y/n)'s. "Do you need me to call anyone for you? If you want me to stay-"

(Y/n) shook her head. It was hard to do when the movement made her eyes roll and sent her stomach churning from the unbalance it caused, but she continued to shake her head. She didn't want Hen to try and call anyone for her. The only person she needed was Evan and he was currently stood in the doorway with that determined look that said he wasn't going anywhere.

She just needed Hen to keep quiet for a little bit longer, to not mention the pregnancy to anyone. Especially not Eddie or Evan. Who knew, after today (Y/n) might not have to think about it again.

(Y/n) could barely keep her eyes in focus with the tears that were beginning to roll down her face.

She tried to focus as Hen squeezed her hand before she left the room, trading places with Evan.

Both her arms bound around her middle once again to try and settle her system. She felt a great urge to be sick, but (Y/n) knew there was nothing left in her system. The few drinks of juice she had tried to have earlier had been spewed in the corridor. She was probably running on last reserves and had over-exerted herself today.

Or maybe this was it. Maybe this was the end of the dream. Perhaps this was when she lost another pregnancy and reality finally came crashing back down on her like a tidal wave from the ocean. It didn't matter that (Y/n) had been telling herself this was going to happen, it still made her heart break all the same.

Her knees tried to coil up towards her middle but (Y/n) didn't have the energy to keep them tensed up and her heels scraped against the bed as her legs slid back down again.

She tried to tilt her head down when Evan walked into the room and when he sat down on the edge of the bed, (Y/n) didn't dare look up.

Her pulse was throbbing in her ears and her fever felt like it was raging the same heat as a volcano, especially when Evan's hand took one of hers and their fingers interlaced together. His fingers danced across the back of her hand and squeezed every few seconds and (Y/n) could feel his hip nudging her thigh, trying to gain her attention.

When she continued to stare down at their hands rather than look up at him, Evan gently leaned forward and pressed his free hand beneath her chin. His thumb traced along her lower lip and he aimed her head up so she was looking at him. But he still found it hard to catch her eye and get her to focus on him rather than try to look at anything else in the room.

Why was she avoiding him?

"The nurse won't be long… you didn't really eat lunch today, did you? You've probably been doing too much." The concern laced into Evan's voice made (Y/n) shiver and she couldn't keep eye contact with him any longer.

Her chin tilted down, nudging into his touch but a dozen more tears drenched her face. And when her lower lip began to wobble and quiet cries left her lips, Evan tensed up. He hadn't meant to make her cry. He wasn't trying to have a go at her or be rude, he was only trying to calm her down and make her feel better.

He had noticed her barely touch her lunch- not that they'd had a lot of time to sit down and eat with the constant calls they had been going out on today. But he noticed, and he knew she wasn't drinking as much as the rest of them either. Evan suspected she had just been working too hard, pushing herself too much without a break and this was the end result.

"Sweetheart, it's okay-"

"N-no it's not." (Y/n) hiccupped through her words and tilted her head down again so she wouldn't have to look at him and his sorrowful expression.

"What do you mean?"

Was she sick? Well, of course she was sick, but was there something more to it than that? Did (Y/n) have a condition or something seriously wrong with her that she hadn't told Evan or the rest of the team?

Evan didn't like the sound of that. A sceptical look flooded his face as his hand tightened around hers and he brought her hand to rest on his lap while his head inclined to one side once their eyes finally locked again. He didn't like the panic he could see building up in (Y/n)'s eyes. He didn't like the way her lower lip was wobbling and she was starting to sob and shake at the same time.

"Baby…" (Y/n) could barely keep her eyes open when her head started to spin and Evan started to blur before her eyes. Her hand squeezed his before she pulled their entwined hands from his thigh to move his hand against her stomach instead. "Baby."

She repeated the word again and pressed Evan's hand into her stomach until he got the hint. She didn't want to have to say the words out loud. She didn't want to tell Evan at all.

But he wasn't going anywhere and as much as (Y/n) would of preferred to have Hen witness this rather than break Evan's soul with this dilemma, he was here. (Y/n) needed him to stay here with her and she needed him to know because she would have to tell the nurse when she came in.

(Y/n) would have to tell the doctor so they knew to check if this was a miscarriage like (Y/n) suspected. And she couldn't hide this from Evan for long. She should have told him already; she knew that.

Evan let (Y/n) press his hand down on her stomach for a bit longer. He couldn't find the will to move, let alone the power to speak. He didn't know what to do with himself or now to comprehend what she was clearly trying to tell him.

"You're pregnant?"

A look of panic flooded Evan's face when (Y/n) nodded just as the door opened and a nurse walked in.

His blue eyes seemed to ignite and (Y/n) was sure that at any moment he was going to start crying too. Shivers coursed through Evan's body and his free hand moved to drag through his hair, catching the curls between his fingers and pulling until it felt like he was going to tear them from his scalp.

"Ooh (Y/n)!" Her name hissed past Evan's lips as he snapped his eyes closed and dragged his hand from his hair to run down his face.

Why didn't she tell him sooner? Why didn't she tell him when she found out? How long had she known and left Evan in the dark? He could see clearly that she was only telling him now because she didn't know whether her sudden collapse was because she was sick, or because it had something to do with the baby.

(Y/n) shivered when she felt Evan's hand tighten around hers and his nails pierced into the back of her hand as he turned to look at the nurse who was now standing beside the bed.

He could hear her mumbling 'high blood pressure' and 'fever' and 'collapsed' under her breath as she looked through the notes she had been given. The notes which had been written down in haste before the rest of the team had left to head back to the station.

"She's pregnant."

He watched the nurse's eyes widen before she added that to the chart. "I'll need to take some blood samples and send them to pathology."

Evan nodded despite the way (Y/n) turned her head away from the nurse and nuzzled her face into the pillow as she whimpered. She didn't do well with needles and having her bloods done when she felt like this would only make her feel faint. But she knew she didn't have a choice.

She was half expecting Evan to let go of her hand and walk away from her. She thought he might stand in the corner of the room and refuse to talk to her while he tried to wrap his head around this news. He had every right to be upset with her. (Y/n) didn't want to know how he would of reacted if he knew that deep down, she wasn't going to tell him at all if this hadn't of happened.

Her mind started to wander and when she closed her eyes, (Y/n) found that she didn't hold the energy to try and open them again. Maybe going to sleep might make her feel better. Maybe this would all be a bad, distant dream by the time she woke up. If only.

But she managed to hear what Evan whispered in that broken voice that made (Y/n)'s already aching heart pulse and throb.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

#imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #pregnant! reader #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck imagine #eddie diaz imagine #hen wilson #matters of the heart

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rose-in-blue · 3 days ago

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"Any Time, Mon Cher"

Alastor x reader

Warnings/tags: fluff, Alastor being smarmy, afab reader, an aggressive amount of commas and parenthesis, deer kink(?), slightly suggestive, Alastor isn't repulsed by touch at least not from (Y/N), cursing, thoughts in italics, the hotel has a kitchen?

A/n: this is my first time posting fanfic, so please go easy on me, guys! let me know if I made any errors in the comments <3

1176 words

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I seriously can’t believe you, Alastor!” you shouted, for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“I really don’t see the problem here, dear,” he said, slightly more passive aggressive than normal.

You two had been fighting for the last 10 minutes or so, standing in the small kitchen of the Hazbin Hotel. While your fight had started with a simple argument over a slight misunderstanding, soon the gates broke and the flood began— every single thing that Alastor had done that ticked you off just rushed out in a wave that you couldn't seem to stop.

“Argh, you’re just… the… the worst!!” you screamed into his face, lacking better words.

Alastors eyes narrowed, shit-eating-grin strained slightly, ears flicking back for a brief moment. You barely caught the change in his eyes or smile, but your eyes darted up at the movement from his fluffy, red and black ears.

You’d never admit it, but ever since you’d arrived at the hotel, you’d had a bit of an obsession over the Radio Demon. He was aggravating and full of himself and bitchy and narcissistic, but something about him always seemed to make your heart beat a little faster. Especially his more… deer-like features.

Antlers, ears, (speculated) tail— you were fascinated by it all. All you wanted to do was run your hand up the back of his ears, tangling in his hair, while you lay, gasping, helpless beneath him, completely at his mercy…

You blinked, realizing that you’d been staring for a few moments too long. Alastor noticed, of course. Smiling wider, he decided to have some fun with it.

“Really, darling? In what ways am I…” he flicked his ears backwards, then forwards again, “the worst?”

You blushed, eyes never breaking from his ears. “Uh, well, I… for starters…” you trailed off.

“...Yes, dear? I’m listening.” His left ear flicked to the side.

“Oh, well, you know…” you desperately tried to gain control of the conversation, looking into his eyes again. “You’re incredibly full of yourself.”

“Oh, really, (Y/N)? And you’re so humble?” He grinned impossibly wider, ears flicking in every which way.

“Well, ya know, I…” Get a hold of yourself, (Y/N), you thought, eyes trying to focus on anything else but the demon in front of you. “I’m not an asshole about it.” Fuck, why did you say that?!

Alastor threw his head back and laughed, his ears finally stopping. You pouted, hating to be the butt of whatever sadistic joke you were to him. “Really? Is that what you think of me?” he asked, still laughing.

“I… I mean, I…” What did you mean? Sure, Alastor could be shitty at times, but he seemed to have a soft spot for you… at least, that’s what you thought. You didn’t really know anymore.

He bent at the waist, face drawing closer to yours, and it seemed as if he read your mind. “What did you mean, sweetheart? I’m listening.” His ears shifted back (purposefully, of course– he just loved to see you squirm). That was the final breaking point for you.

“Oh, fuck you, Alastor!” you turned your head away, suddenly very aware that your back was now firmly pressed against the kitchen counter.

“You’re welcome to try, dear.”

HE DID NOT JUST—

You blushed, and your eyes flashed to his instantly, because there was no way in hell that he just said that.

The smirk that played across his face told you that he had indeed just said that.

“I…I…I-I,” you stammered, not quite able to process it. His smirk grew, especially after his ears twitched to the front again and your eyes followed every movement and his eyes followed yours.

Changing the subject (thank Satan), his smile shifted to a kinder one, eyes looking up to where his ears stood, then back at you. "Would you like to touch them, darling?"

You were silent for a moment, taken aback. "What-- I'm sorry?"

You heard him, of course, and he knew that, so he continued. "As long as our little argument is over, that is." He reached down and took your hand, eyes never breaking away from yours. "As much as I love our friendly banter, it hurts me so much to see you so angry at me."

You didn't know what so say for once, so you just let him bring your hand to to the side of his temple, almost touching his hair.

"...I..." Honestly, you were surprised you got that much out.

Still smiling, his eyes stared into your soul. "Use your words, dear."

Well, there was no going back now. You threw all your embarrassment out the window and nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes, Alastor, I do."

Alastor smiled (you could swear there was kindness behind it), bowed his head, and pressed your hand to the base of his ear.

You almost gasped. The hair (hair? fur? hair-fur?) was soft, softer than you'd imagined. Your fingers gently danced up and down his ear, and then moved over to caress his antlers.

Meanwhile, hidden from you, Alastor's face was a mess of emotions. Every bone in his body screamed at his to leave, to vanish, to get away from the danger that physical contact might bring. His eyes flashed into radio dials, then back again. However, within only a few seconds, he relaxed into your touch, letting out a soft exhale.

You were enthralled with his ears and antlers, so much so that you brought your other hand up to the back of his head, unintentionally pulling him closer to you. Alastor stepped forward slightly, swallowed his pride, and trailed his hands up the sides of your thighs to your waist, while your fingers kept toying with his hair.

Alastor, head still lowered, shifted enough to where he could look up at you. Finally, finally you were able to stop looking at the top of his head (satiated for now), and stared deep into his crimson eyes. (Were his pupils more dilated than normal?)

Slowly, he stood up straight, eyes still fixated on you. Your hands fell from his ears to his hair, and then to his chest. You seemed even more aware of the counter behind you, especially as Alastor took another small step toward you, almost pressing into you, hands tightening on your waist.

"Thank you," you whispered, almost inaudibly, head reaching up slightly.

"Any time, mon cher," he whispered back, as his head lowered.

At that moment, Charlie burst into the kitchen. Immediately, you spun around to face the sink, while Alastor shadow-traveled a few yards away to the fridge. "Alright, you two! I hope you're ready for some group exercises!" she bubbled.

You cleared your throat, blushing (grateful that she didn't see the almost-kiss). "Of course, we'll be out in a minute!" you assured the princess.

"No, no, right now! Let's goooo!" she dragged you out of the kitchen.

Before you passed the now open doorway, you caught Alastor's eye.

He smiled at you.

You grinned.

"Any time, dear," he whispered once more as you disappeared. "Any time."

#alastor #the radio demon #hazbin hotel #fluff #new writers on tumblr #writers on tumblr #fanfic #vivziepop #vivienne medrano #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #roseinblue writes

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rowdyluv · 2 days ago

Note

can i request 7g with quinn she/her please🥺

Prompt: “Don’t cry. God, please don’t cry. I hate seeing you like this and not being able to do anything.”

Warnings: anxiety, panic, hints at bad past, wrote & posted no editing (So I re-read it and saw how yucky it looked so it’s semi edited)

Y/n boss appeared at the edge of her cubicle with a sly smile edging his face and his tie slightly askew. "Y/n," he called out, his voice cutting through the low murmur of the office. "I need to see you in my office right away." Her stomach plummeted. If she wanted to make it downtown to Roger’s without any trouble she needed to leave in exactly two minutes. Any later she would be fighting the surrounding area schools.

The office was a blur of desks and faces as she tried to keep her breath steady, trying to not let her anxiety rile her up. What could he possibly want? He hadn’t spoke to her in the last 8 months since she had started dating Quinn. She had been excluded from all other meetings, why now?

Inside his office, he gestured to the chair opposite his desk, his expression unreadable. She sat down, her hands fidgeting in her lap as he closed the door behind her. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together. "I know you requested to leave early, Y/n," he said, his eyes closing briefly as he slowly breathed out a sigh. "But I have a... document that requires your attention."

“My…my att..attention?” She stuttered out with growing anxiety. “Can I do it tomorrow? I..I’ll come in early? Stay late?” She asked quietly sitting on the edge of her seat.

His eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk. “I’m afraid it’s rather urgent. It shouldn’t take long. But it’s something that requires your immediate and professional attention.” He said with a rigid tone that left no room for argument.

Y/n’s shoulders slumped as she nodded reluctantly. She could feel the minutes slipping away, each one lowering a heavier weight on her chest. She returned to her desk, her eyes scanning the email. The document was pages and pages of information. “Shouldn’t take long” she muttered to herself. If she worked carelessly it wouldn’t take long, but if she worked as she’s known to it would take her at least two hours to get through it thoroughly. Her mind was racing with the thought of Quinn and his family waiting for her at the arena, wondering where she was.

With trembling hands, she began to work, her eyes darting back and forth over the screen. Her heart felt as if it was in a vice, each beat a painful reminder of the promise she was about to break. The words and numbers started to blur together as she rushed through the text, making mental notes and trying to ensure she didn’t miss any crucial details. The longer she was stuck at her desk the less she cared about her job. She was worried about letting Quinn down, him being disappointed in her, him being mad at her.

Y/n shot off a message to Quinn once she sent an email back to her boss of the finished document. The clock read 6pm, her thumbs moved frantically over the screen as she typed. "Leaving the office now…hope to be there soon! I’m so, so sorry." She sent it with a heavy painful sigh, knowing it was probably too late. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears, and she took a deep breath to compose herself. She couldn’t let her anxiety ruin this for her, not when Quinn had been so supportive of her through all of her mental health struggles.

The city streets were a sea of red brake lights and honking horns. Each minute that passed felt like an eternity. Her chest tightened, and she rubbed her hands over her face, wishing she could just will all of the cars in front of her to move. "Come on," she murmured under her breath desperately her eyes darting to the time. 7:23pm. She quickly typed out another message to Quinn, her heart racing. "I’m so so sorry I’m late. I hope I make it by the start of the second. Traffic's a nightmare.."

Not long after the message sent, her phone was ringing with an incoming call, and she saw it was Quinn. Her hand hovered over the answer button for a second, dread mixing with anticipation. "Hello?" she answered, her voice shaky.

“Y/n.” He sounded relieved. “It’s intermission, they said you never picked up your ticket. Are you okay?” He rushed out. Y/n knew he must of fought his coaches to call her. He never uses his phone during intermissions. She had only been messaging him out previous relationship habits.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m…” She trailed off looking up the highway of bumper-to-bumper traffic. “I’m still stuck in traffic. It’s so bad, I don’t think I’ll make it, Q.. I’ll just..I’ll just go wait for you at your apartment. I’m so sorry, Quinn. I know this game means so much to you and your family. I messed up,” she said, her voice cracking with regret.

“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll see you after. Be careful sweet girl.” Quinn softly says to her in the sweet tone he gives only her.

★★★★

By the time she arrived at Quinn’s luxurious apartment there were only moments left in the game. She not only missed it live in person but also televised. The elevator ride to the top floor seemed to drag on forever, each floor number lighting up with a painful slowness. She stepped out into the hallway, her feet echoing against the hard floor. She fidgeted with her keys, trying to find the right one to unlock the door. Her hands were trembling so badly she could barely hold onto them. With a shaky breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. Her anxiety was an ugly, ugly thing.

The thought of him expecting her to be there, only for her to miss, brought a lump to her throat. She sat down on the plush couch, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them tightly. Her mind raced with scenarios of his disappointment and anger, each one more intense than the last. Each scenario ended differently but each had the common denominator of him expressing his disappointment in her. Something about the thought of him saying the phrase ‘I’m disappointed in you, Y/n.’ Made her dizzy, made her nauseous, made her feel like she had committed the most audacious crime. The quiet was deafening, and she found herself holding her breath, waiting for the moment he would come through the door and throw his anger at her.

★★★★

Quinn’s heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway, and she felt a new surge of panic. She leapt to her feet, her heart racing as she rushed towards the door. She threw it open just as Quinn was about to push his key inside the door knob. With wide eyes and erratic breathing, she flung herself at him. Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. “I’m so sorry, Quinn, I got held up at work and the traffic was horrendous! I tried, I swear, I really, really, reaaalllyy did. I wanted to be there so badly!” she babbled out in a rush.

He looked at her with surprise in his eyes before a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He gently wrapped his arms around her, lifting her just enough off the ground to walk inside, “It’s alright, it’s okay,” he murmured soothingly, his breath warm fanning against her ear. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He set her down gently on the couch taking a spot right beside her and she felt a little calmer just by being in his space. Quinn sat so close to her, trying to give them a little bit of privacy. What little they could earn with his parents and brother standing feet away. Y/n took a deep breath, preparing for the blow that would never arrive.

"Pretty girl, why are you crying?" He whispered, his thumb brushing against her cheek. "I’m not mad at you, I promise." His eyes held contact with hers, filled with concern and confusion. Y/n sniffled, trying to compose herself. "I..it's just that… It’s just I missed a game you really wanted me to be at. One we’ve talked a lot about. You might not be made, but I wanted to be there for you," she managed to get out, her voice cracking with emotion.

Quinn’s face softened, and he pulled her into his chest, her head resting snuggly against his chest. "I see… You’ve labeled it was important to me because I was playing, but honey it’s just a game. It’s seeing my family that’s important. Them seeing you too. That’s why I wanted you there. I wanted to look up and see you cheering for me and my brothers next you mom.” He explained rubbing her back in an assuring way. “So, next Hughes Bowl is in Jersey and I will be fixing your arrangements first thing Monday morning. Right now? I’m more concerned about you than a silly hockey game." He kissed the top of her head, his hands rubbing circles into her back. "You’re here now, thats what is important."

Y/n looks up at him, placing her chin on his chest. A couple stray tears slipping down her face.

"Baby, please don't cry," Quinn murmured, his voice thick with concern. "It kills me when you cry."

Y/n sniffled, her eyes meeting his. "They're happy tears, I promise," she said with a wobbly smile. "I'm just so... thankful that you're you. That you understand."

“I’m nothing like anyone you’ve been with before me. I take care of you, of us.” Quinn affirms wiping her cheeks. “Now come meet my momma before she interrupts us to introduce herself.”

#cay chats✿#cay writes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes blurb #qh43 x reader #qh43 #quinn hughes one shot #honorable mentions #jack Hughes #luke hughes #scheduled post

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goldfades · 3 days ago

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paige x reader texts!

(not my gif)

for my baby jojo! @wanderlusturous

notes: since i dont really know how to do those like screenshot ones, i decided to just do them manually cause it'd be easier LOL bare w me... also ignore how unaesthetic this post is

you’re taking forever to get ready, and paige is impatient

paige: Are you almost done?? you: beauty takes time baby paige: You’ve been “getting ready” for an hour you: and i will continue until i feel like the baddest in the room. u should support me paige: I do support you. I just don’t want to be late 😭 you: ok and? ur paige bueckers. they’ll wait. paige: That is NOT how this works 😭

you’re at one of paige’s games and she’s locked in

you: hi i love u play good 😘 paige: I’m literally about to play a game 😭 you: and? that should only fuel u. do it for me. paige: I always do 😏 you: god u r so in love w me it’s crazy paige: Stop texting me before Coach yells at me 😭

paige keeps sending you ugly selfies

paige:

you: girl what is this 💀 paige: It’s meeeeee you: no bc why is ur forehead taking up the whole screen paige: I was trying to show you my new pimple ☹️ you: well u succeeded. that thing is front and center paige: That’s mean ☹️ you: i’ll kiss it better later. but also u need skincare fr paige: …rude. but also what do I buy cause this Cerave shit isn't doing anything

paige left her fav hoodie at your place

paige: Can I get my hoodie back you: no ❤️ paige: What do you mean no?? It’s mine?? you: wrong. u left it here. it has transferred ownership paige: That’s not how this works you: i don’t make the rules. i just enforce them paige: You’re ridiculous you: and cozy 😌

paige woke up before you and is bored, while you need ur daily dose of insta reels

paige: Wake up you: no paige: I’m bored n ur just on tiktok 😭 you: sounds like a personal problem and it's literally insta reels paige: You are my girlfriend. It’s literally your job to entertain me. you: i do not recall signing up for this paige: Too late. Wake up. you: bribing me would work better js paige: I’ll buy you food you: ok bet

you caught paige staring at you when you guys are hanging out with friends

you: bro paige: ? you: why r u looking at me like that 😭 paige: Like what you: like u want to eat me paige: …I was just looking at you?? you: yeah with big heart eyes paige: Okay?? You’re literally my girlfriend?? you: sounds like a u problem tbh. i’m just here existing paige: And I’m just here admiring 🤷🏼‍♀️ you: softie

paige is flirting with you

paige: You looked really good today 😏 you: i always look good paige: Yeah but like… extra good you: oh? paige: Yeah you: so u admit u were staring paige: UHHHHHHH you: caught u slipping love

you’re mad at paige over something small

paige: Are you seriously still mad 😭 you: yes paige: It wasn’t even that serious you: IT WAS TO ME paige: You’re so dramatic omg you: don’t talk to me paige: What if I bring you snacks you: … paige: That’s what I thought you: ur lucky i love snacks

you’re making paige jealous on purpose

paige: Why are you talking to her so much?? you: oh? does someone feel threatened? paige: No. Just wondering why you’re talking to her THAT much. you: maybe i think she’s cute 😌 paige: Y/N. you: LMFAO NOT U USING MY FULL NAME paige: I’m serious 😒 you: baby i’m kidding. ur the only one i want paige: I hate you you: no u don’t 😘

paige is on a long roadie and is missing you

paige: I’m bored you: sounds like a u problem tbh paige: No, it’s a you problem bc I miss you you: oh paige: Yeah. Oh. you: ur kinda soft paige: Maybe you: i miss u too baby

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nightwingsgypsyrep · 2 days ago

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Ok so I’ve been umming and ahhing about making this post for a while. I’ve always kinda planned on it, but seeing these tags on a previous post of mine (no hate to this user) made me want to post something now. It’s also gone 3am. So it’s not really going to be very clean and tidy, and will probably be a bit rambling, but I can always post a ‘tidy’ version another time.

So! Tackling Dick Grayson’s Romani/GRTSB heritage (warning: it’s a long one)

So, as usual, a few disclaimers: 1) I am not American. 2) I myself fall under the GRTSB umbrella - for clarity, I am from the fairground/circus so a Showman, but my family were simply ‘gypsies’ before getting involved in that in the Victorian period, so I use gypsy/traveller/Showman for myself. I also speak Romani and grew up in the culture and on the grounds. I’m not just talking out of my arse, I promise. 3) I do not pretend to have read every comic. However, this post will be based in things which DC have published (yeah I know it gets retconned every two minutes but hey, I’m working with it), even if some of it is more speculative/Headcanony, it will all be canon-compliant/what makes sense based on my own experiences. 4) That being said, everyone who does in some way fall under the GRTSB acronym will have different experiences and opinions, and all are equally valid and should be respected. 5) I use the term ‘gypsy’ a lot. Where I am from, it is not a slur, but is used almost a catch-all phrase for GRTSB people, by us. We also see Dick use it so I’m going to. I personally don’t mind if people use it (so long as they don’t use it as an insult) but not everyone will feel that way, so it’s always better to ask individuals. 6) this post is intended as a fun exploration of a character whom I relate to based on our shared heritage (when it’s really rare to find characters like that). I’m not trying to dictate to you how you should interpret Dick’s character. You’re welcome to different opinions and interpretations - this is just one of mine! :)

So, first, what is GRTSB? Well, it’s an acronym which covers all aspects of the gypsy/traveller umbrella. It is used in British legislation. It stands for Gypsy Romani Traveller Showman (aka fairground and circus) Boater. Under British legislation, only the first three (Gypsies, Romani, and Travellers) are considered an ethnic identity, whilst Showmen and Boaters are considered a cultural identity.

This is absolutely FULL of problems and has been hotly debated for years, with different people identifying in different ways. People who share the same/very similar ethnic heritage (i.e. siblings, or cousins) can have completely different points of view on what they identify as. As such, don’t take it as gospel - it’s more of a guideline than anything. Especially since a) these groups often intermarry, meaning that someone can be multiple at once; b) if a Showman stops travelling with the fair and settles, they don’t become a non-traveller, because it’s in your blood, not just a job; c) people can trace their heritage back past a particular group - e.g. my own family (circus and fairgrounds aka Showmen) can be traced back to at least the 1600s, before fairs were really a thing - at the time, they simply identified as gypsies. They didn’t stop being gypsies just because they changed their job/founded a circus/fairground. As such, many in my family identify primarily as a gypsy or traveller, and a Showman secondarily, whilst others do the opposite, or identify as just a Showman or just a traveller/gypsy. Like I say, this classification is not perfect, and is hotly debated, especially at the present time.

So, now, onto the subject of Dick Grayson. I included the tags above mostly because of the ‘tell me you don’t know a character without telling me you don’t know a character’, because, firstly, rude. secondly, the poster makes reference to the Golden Age. And yeah, obviously DC aren’t going to make reference to Dick being a gypsy in the Golden Age - do you really expect writers in the 40s to care enough about the nuances of a character’s ethnic heritage, especially a gypsy, at a time when it was still common even in countries like England (where legal segregation wasn’t a thing) to have signs on pubs like ‘no blacks, no Irish, no dogs, no gypsies’ - btw we still get those occasionally? However, if we look at the comics which have been published in the eighty five years since Dick’s debut, we see a lot of references to Dick having Romani/GRTSB heritage. Again, I’m not well read, but in Grayson’s run, at least, we do see Dick speaking Romani and self-identifying as a gypsy (Nightwing #91 btw). So I’m sorry but it is definitely canon that Dick has at least some Romani heritage (since Romani, by culture, is not taught to non-travellers on purpose, and is thus only passed down from parent to child. Hell, even some of my cousins who are half gypsy - Diddakois - don’t know the language!), and the fact that he speaks it and IDs as a gypsy does suggest that this is something important to him and his character. I know that being a gypsy is certainly a big thing to me (with how the world treats us, you have to be proud of it and have it be important to you to make it worth it).

So now we come onto the second part of my rant: wtf is going on with Haly’s Circus.

So, an important bit of context is, what makes a gypsy a gypsy? And the answer to that, in my opinion, is a mix between culture and blood. You can’t be a gypsy (unless in circumstances like adoption) unless you have both. What I mean by that is, if you’ve got one gypsy great great great grandparent, but weren’t bought up with the culture and morals, you have gypsy heritage but are not a gypsy. However, if you are a gypsy and you decide to settle down in a house, work in an office, and never speak Romani again, you are still a gypsy. Similarly, if you suddenly decide to take on the gypsy lifestyle (maybe work on the fairgrounds or in the circus, or go travelling like the New Age lot), you are not a gypsy, because it’s not in your blood - hence why it’s an ethnicity, not a cultural thing really. As such, it is common for there to be a us vs them mentality even with those working on the ground - you have the gypsy/traveller/Showman who tends to own/run things, and then you have hired non-GRTSB staff (traditionally called chaps, but this has fell out of fashion in recent years).

Now, I make this distinction because Haly’s Circus is really odd in that regard.

Most gypsy (or Showmen - like I say, it can be both at the same time) ran circuses and fairs tend to be family affairs. For example, it might be John Doe’s Circus on the tin, but the Smith family (which Mr Doe’s sister married into) will often work with and alongside the Does in the running and operating of the events. Largely, this is on an ownership level, with various relations then owning the surrounding supporting elements (e.g. sideshows, fairground rides and joints, food kiosks). Other family members might then help ‘mind’ the stuff, or you can hire non-GRTSB staff to help.

Now to draw on my own family history: historically, in the Victorian period, etc, it was common for the gypsy family who owned the circus to also perform in it. For example, in my grandfather’s circus, my grandmother was a lion tamer and equestrian performer in parades. They did also hire non-traveller performers, but there wasn’t such a distinct line. However, by the 30s approximately, this had changed to be a more managerial role, with it being more common to have purely hired performers in the main event. The exception here was for sideshows and fairground rides - it is still common today for these to be ran/worked by GRTSB people (e.g. my grandmother did the dookering - fortune telling - and my grandfather did the boxing; today, we still run and operate the rides and kiosks).

However, we know that Haly’s circus was not like that. We honestly don’t know if Haly was a gypsy or not. Also, usually, gypsies have such big families and are surrounded by them, but we know that the Graysons died with no living family (no William Cobb does not count here) and had no relation to anyone at Haly’s. I suppose if you want a canon answer, you could point to how Haly’s was used by the Court of Owls, but it could just be Like That. This is unusual but not unheard of, but still worth pointing out I think. Alternatively, it could originate from one of the non-GRTSB started circuses which were popular around the turn of the 20th century. Since being a gypsy is really tied to your family name and, ethnically, means you have to be born into it - you can’t just start a fair and claim to be one-, even 120 years later, these families are still met with scepticism - they could marry into a 100% gypsy family in 1901, and have all of their descendants do the same, and still the older generation would look at their surname and scoff and say they’re not a real traveller because that one great grandfather 100 years ago was not a born-and-bred traveller. But honestly, I think 100 years is enough to integrate. So, to summarise, Haly’s circus is quite unusual in that it does not appear to be operated by only gypsies/Showmen, even if it still common for circuses not to be performed in by just gypsies.

Now, to answer, how Romani is Dick Grayson?

Like I say, canon does explicitly tell us that he has Romani heritage, placing him firmly within that second category of the GRTSB acronym (and he also identifies with the more general Gypsy identity). However, it’s frankly unlikely that the writers really went in depth with the whole GRTSB thing, so I think we can tentatively suggest that he might have also identified (keyword here being ‘might’ - this is more canon-compliant HC here y’all) as a Showman (called a Carney in the US) because the whole deal with being a Showman is the circus/fairground aspect (but, like I say, it is still a ‘gypsy’ identity as you must be born a Showman, you can’t just sign up, because it is based on a mutual gypsy heritage which predates fairgrounds/circuses, which means it still fits into what we know of Dick in canon. As such, Dick being a Showman is hardly canon, but it is 100% compliant with what we know of Dick in canon). As I’ve said, they are not mutually exclusive. He could ID as both or either, or just prefer the all-encompassing ‘gypsy’.

Now, we also know that Dick is not 100% gypsy (but tbh who is nowadays? I have two non-gypsy great-great grandfathers). Although Dick’s family history is limited, we know that his great grandfather William Cobb was likely not a gypsy (he could be ethnically, it’s not ruled out, he might have just settled, but let’s go for safety’s sake here and just say he’s not). Similarly, his partner was from a wealthy non-gypsy family, meaning that ethnically, their baby (John Grayson’s father) was likely not a gypsy (though could potentially have been a Diddakoi aka a half-gypsy, if we believe William Cobb to be a settled gypsy). However, since this baby still grew up amongst the circus, it is not impossible that he ended up marrying a gypsy, which would make John Grayson half gypsy - aka a Diddakoi. In fact, I would argue that it is even likely, owing to the fact that Dick speaks Romani, and the fact that Romani is only taught to other members of the family, meaning that somewhere in the Grayson family, a Romani speaker had to be introduced. Mary Grayson (formerly Lloyd), on the other hand, probably was Romani/GRTSB herself. I say this, based mostly on her closeness with the OG Richard aka Raptor from Seeley’s run, who was Romani, and the fact that it is really common in gypsy circles to mostly mix with other gypsies, meaning that it would make sense for the pair to meet based on the fact that they were both gypsies/Romani. Therefore, I would argue that even if Dick is not wholly Romani/gypsy ethnically (but, like I say, who is nowadays?), I think there is enough both blood and culturally to make a pretty good case for him IDing as such, and foregoing the need to make any distinction. (Also, especially nowadays when Diddakois are increasingly more common, it’s not even that prejudiced to be a Diddakoi. A lot of my cousins are and you don’t even think to mention it). Aka. He’s a gypsy. Nuff said.

Then, I suppose, the final thing I’ll address is the ‘whitewashing’ issue, or, what I really think is a non-issue.

Sure, a lot of ethnically Romani people are dark skinned. There is a reason why the term gypsy exists. Now, as my grandad will tell you, gypsies originated from Northern India about 2000 years ago, before moving into Europe. However, a lot can happen in 2000 years. There are a lot of people in the UK, at least, who identify as purely Romani who have very pale skin. My family has a real split: my dad’s side of the family is quite dark, and are often mistaken for being South Asian in the summer due to how dark they get when they tan. Meanwhile, he refers to my mother’s side of the family as being ‘poxy and pasty’. My mother is a full-blooded traveller btw, same as my dad (barring their singular non-gypsy great grandad they each had). You just can’t paint everybody with the same brush. Take me for example: I am pale af and take after my mum’s side of the family, but I’ve still got the stereotypical dark curly hair and blue eyes of gypsies (which my boy also shares). Genetics are weird. So whilst I am a big fan of dark skinned Romani Dick Grayson, it’s also still ok and accurate for him to be paler. This does not make him any less Romani. (Like I say, this is all based on my experiences in the UK).

SOOO… TLDR:

Dick definitely has Romani heritage. This has been canon for decades and cannot be taken away from him.

He canonically self-IDs as a ‘gypsy’ (as well as the Romani heritage), and may also be interpreted as being a Showman (even if this is more of a European term) if you want to see him that way, especially since a lot of Showman families (mine included) can trace their families back past the origin of the fairground to when they simply identified as gypsies or Romani (hence why Dick might ID as a gypsy with Romani heritage. Honestly, this is mostly in the realm of canon-compliant Headcanon now)

The GRTSB classification system is a mess y’all and everyone has a different opinion. Just roll with it and don’t get into the debates is my professional opinion.

Being Romani/a gypsy/a traveller/a Showman is something you are born into. You can’t just become one, or stop being one. So, if we presume that William Cobb had no Romani heritage/was not a settled-down Gypsy, even after he joined Haly’s he did not become one. It really is in your blood, and is tied to family.

Haly’s circus is unusual because it’s mostly not a family affair (though points for the Graysons sticking with it and inheriting their roles - that is realistic!). It’s unclear how many of the members of the circus are Romani.

Dick also has non-traveller heritage due to the William Cobb thing. His grandfather, at least, was probably not ethnically Romani (though he might have been half if we want to view William Cobb as having Romani heritage/being a settled gypsy). However, since Dick canonically has Romani heritage, IDs as a gypsy, and speaks Romani (a language which is closely guarded amongst gypsies), it had to come in somewhere. Honestly, I think we can comfortably view him as being at least 3/4 ethnically Romani/a Gypsy, but also since modern Dick Grayson was not born during prohibition, this really isn’t a problem as it’s really common for Diddakois (half gypsies) to be treated as full gypsies nowadays.

As much as I love darker skinned Dick Grayson, it’s not a requirement. A lot of the GRTSB community (especially in Western Europe/Britain/Ireland) are on the pale side. This does not take away from their identity.

So that’s my rant. It’s like 3.30am so it’s probably a complete mess but hopefully it gets down the basics, at least insofar as it relates to my experiences and understanding as a gypsy from the fairground/a circus family. People will probably have different experiences (especially since I’m in the UK). Although I have based all of this on canon, and as such it should all be canon-compliant to my knowledge (I’ve still not read all the comics!), it is also equally based on my experiences, so you may interpret it completely differently. The beauty of Dick’s character is that he has been built up over 85 years, and as such, we have to do our best to interpret what was laid down in the Golden Age by writers with no idea of what Dick’s character would grow to be. As such, canon really is a bit of a sandbox, and this is my own go at it!

If anyone has any questions/wants clarification/notices any obvious contradictions with canon since I’ve not read them all yet, please feel free to point it out! This is not intended to be a lecture/call out post/dictatorship on how you view canon, just a small exploration of my interpretation of a character whom I relate to as a Romani speaking gypsy from the fairground/circus myself.

#I’m low-key terrified to post this pls don’t hang draw and quarter me #batman #batfam #dc comics #dick grayson #nightwing #romani dick grayson

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nodoubtily · 23 hours ago

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riki pool smut? he's too hott for that.... btw just saw your post for ideas

IM SO SORRY THIS CAME SO LATE I HAVE LITERALLY BEEN SO UNMOTIVATED ❤️😭

TW:// sex in the pool DURRRR? SMUT so MDNI. Niki is vegan in this story, but he’s not CRAZY about it (it’s for the sake of the plot, so they can stay back and fuck, y’know?), really long, orgasming inside, unprotected sex (Wrap before you tap) hair pulling, really bad ending. Lmk if I missed anything else. OH and cursing.

Jay is also involved, playing as Reader’s brother.

Perm taglist (ask if you wanna join) - @jyikeu @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby

It’s gonna be a hot ass day. That’s for sure.

So thankfully, the Airbnb your friends, your brother, yourself, and boyfriend are staying at has a pool. If you’re not all out and about, you’re all in the pool, playing every game you guys can think of.

It’s current the third day of your friend-cation, as you all call it. It’s midway through morning and you’re in the kitchen, planning your meals for the day with Jay, your brother.

“We’re going out for dinner tonight.” He tells you, pointing to the blank spot for lunch today. You nod, scribbling ‘out for dinner’ on the blank space. He nods, and he pats your shoulder, before walking to the main space, throwing himself next to all your friends. You turn to the fridge, seeing if you had the ingredients for the brunch when you feel two hands snake around your waist, pressing their front to you, him shoving his face in the crook of your neck.

“Hey baby..” Niki sighs contently, his arms caging around you tighter.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You giggle when you hear him sigh in a dramatic way.

“What are we doing today?” He asks you quietly, still tired, and you point to the list of what you’re eating and the other list of the plans today. His eyes follow your hand and he goes over, pulling you with him. You quickly close the fridge door, not being able to escape the clutch of a 6-foot-you don’t know guy.

You stand in front, him leaning over your shoulder as his hands rest on either side on the counter. He reads over the lists, and he nods. His hand grabs yours, and he leads you to where everyone else is.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” Your best friend, Alice, nods to Niki, who raises his eyebrows in a greeting way.

“Morning.” He sighs, holding his arms up, bringing your hand he’s holding up with his as he stretches. You quickly stand on your tippy toes, am reaching up comfortably. Jay snorts at the sight, and you clear your throat. Niki looks at you, then your hand, his eyes widen slightly. “Oh shi-“

“I don’t want to go, baby..” Niki sulks, arms crossed as he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you pick both yours and his outfit for dinner. “Can we just stay here?” He asks for the millionth time.

You sigh for the millionth time. “For the last time. We’re booked for 6, we can’t just decide not to go. Plus, all of us are going.”

“Who said we can’t decide? We’re our own person.”

“My brother. He wants us both to go.” You retort. He scoffs.

“And since when has his word ever stopped us?” His voice drops, and he stands up, striding to you in a few long steps, until you physically feel him breathing down your neck.

“What do you mean?” Your knees shake, and standing on your two feet is more difficult then before.

“He said you’re off limits. We fucked in the backseat of my car,” Niki’s hands rake down your back, before gliding them across your waist, resting them on your hips, grasping at your skin in need. “He said we couldn’t date, but we got together three nights after he said that. He said to be quiet when we’re together. You can’t shut your pretty little mouth.” Niki’s words form a horde of butterflies in your stomach, and you feel yourself becoming wetter.

But you’re still sane. “No, we have to go.” You push through your thick wall of desperation, barely making it as you hand him a small, tight black dress for yourself and a cotton black button up for himself. He groans in frustration.

“Please baby. I don’t even feel that well.” He says.

“But you feel well enough to have sex with me?” You can’t hide the snort that exits your mouth.

“What can I say- you’re pussy is so good. So tight for me.”

“Shut the-“

“I don’t know what to wear. And I can’t trust you to pick a good outfit.” He’s grasping at straws.

“Then why are you letting me?” You retort. He groans again.

“I don’t even like the food we’re getting..” his voice is low, a mumble, meaning he didn’t want you to hear it. But you do, and that’s when you stop in your tracks. Fuck. He’s vegan. And won’t eat meat if he can miss it. And to be honest, you’re still full from brunch and the snacks you’ve been eating throughout the day. You’re not really hungry either. You sigh. He’s won without even knowing it.

You turn to him, making your way. You take the dress and shirt you gave to him from his hands and place them back in the closet.

“What’re you doing?” He asks, curious.

“I forgot you’re vegan.” You say, turning to him. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

“It’s okay. You’ve been busy cooking for majority of the day.”

“Yeah, cooking meat you didn’t fucking touch.” You hold his hands, generating all your love into that simple gesture. “I’m sorry, baby. Forgive me?” You ask. Niki acts as if in deep thought. Then, his eyes click, turning mischievous.

“Maybe…if we stay back.” You roll your eyes. “Please, baby.”

“You’re not going to stop with this, are you?” You ask.

“Face it. You don’t want to go either.” You hate that he’s right.

“Fine! Fine, we’ll stay back. You’re telling Jay though.”

“Easy enough.” Niki shrugs.

“Absolutely not.” Jay deadpans. Niki’s jaw drops.

“Wha—!” Niki groans. “Hyung! Why can’t we?” He asks, confused.

“Oh, cause I want to leave you alone to fuck my sister? No. Nope. Not happening.”

“Why do you think we’re going to fuck. You always think that.” Niki pushes.

“Because. You always fuck.”

“No we do not!” Niki is appalled.

“Not happening, little bro.” Jay pats Niki’s shoulder, before you stop him in his tracks. You holds your phone up to his face, and he reads a message your mother sent.

Mama: Park Jongseong, you are to let your sister and Niki stay home if they want. No one stopped you when you wanted to stay back with your exes, so you have no right to stop Y/N. If she tells me that you continue to do so, do not doubt me for a second. I will drag you by the ear back home. Have fun, and don’t do anything your father would do.

Jay scoffs. “Favouritism. At the finest. Do not deny.” He points at you.

“I’m not. I know I’m the favourite.” You shrug, grabbing Niki‘a hand, leading them out of Jay’s room.

“The water looks really good.” You say, you hand scratching at the other hand. Niki places your towels on the lawn chair closest to the pool.

“Then get in.” Niki shrugs as he finally gets ready himself. He slides his shirt off, throwing it where the towels are.

“It also looks really cold.” You whine out lightly. You hear Niki chuckle behind you, and you leave it, thinking nothing of it.

That is, until he picks you up, holding you, bridal style.

“Niki! Put me down!” You yell, though your arms protectively wrap around his neck, pressing yourself against him in fear of dropping.

“Nah.” He then runs to the edge, jumping into the deep end. Cold water engulfs you, spreading throughout everywhere when you break the call surface of the pool. Your body leaves his quickly, swimming to the surface, where air fills your lungs once more. Niki soon follows, sighing in relief. You hear nothing but the water moving, remembering all the other house inmates are gone out for the night. You push yourself into a swimming position, freestyling your way across to the shallow end, when you stand comfortably.

You’re chilling, until you don’t see Niki, and you call out. Then, with no warning, hands wrap around your legs, hoisting you in the air. He submerges from the water, lifting you with him.

“Niki!” You shrieked, half panicked, but also midway through giggles. “Put me down!”

“Okay.” The sneaky glint in his eyes gave away, and you get thrown back into the water. He comes straight to you, wrapping his arms against you again, strong arms snaking along your waist, holding you up, causing you to tower over him. He presses himself against you, cuddling you as you relax in his hold.

“The water feels lovely.” You say, staring up at the sky that’s darkening from a golden glow to a deep shade of blue, nearing to nighttime.

Niki hums in agreement, his mind elsewhere.

“You okay, baby?” You swipe your hands along his short strands, and he opens his eyes, which were closed as he rested his head against your half-covered breasts.

You wrap your legs around his waist comfortably, and that’s when you feel it.

“Niki-“ your voice cuts off as he begins moving, sitting on the step that runs across the whole pool, fashioned for a seat. You straddle him, your legs resting rigid against his hips. “You’re always hard-“ a moan cuts through your speech when his hands palm your ass cheeks, grinding you against him softly.

“Can you blame me when you’re my girlfriend?” He asks you, his voice soft and low and his eyes pierce through your soul. You find it hard to concentrate on whatever he had just said, as your clit comes directly into contact with his knob, a ridge that causes extra pressure, and your hips move against their own record against that ridge, causing more pleasure for both you and Niki. He quivers, before lowly cursing under his breath.

“Can I fuck you?” He becomes more desperate the longer you grind against him like that. “Baby, please, i need to be inside of you.” And you realise that you can’t find yourself to say no.

That’s how you find yourself bent over the edge of the pool, knees pressed against the step as Niki shuffled closer, his tip teasing your folds. You wiggle your hips, earning a slap to your ass cheek.

“Patience, Baby. We didn’t prep you.” His voice sings through your ears.

“I can take it. Please, Niki baby, just please fuck me- oh—!” You moan out when he slams into you, bottoming out quickly. Your pussy is pulsating, working to accommodate Niki’s cock. His tip already leaking with precum, neither of you waste much time before he begins to move, his hips finding a suitable pace, disturbing the water.

His left hand wraps your hair around it, pulling it while the other palms the concrete, finding stance. “Oh fuck- baby, squeezing me so well.” He groans, feeling your walls clenching around his thick unit. “Going to make me cum so quick.”

The water splashes between him in you, as it moves to make way for Niki’s relentless thrusts as he constantly bottoms out every time, reaching backwards enough to almost pull out just to bottom out once more, driving you crazy to the brink of your orgasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You announce, your voice shaking as you struggle to stay upright. Niki realises, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pressing your back against him as his thrusts become shallow, brushing against your G-Spot, bringing you so fucking close. Then, without warning, explosions convulse through your cunt. Your thighs clench and shake, and you’re internally for Niki, who’s holding you upright.

Sooner than later, his climax rolled around, and he presses his hips right against your ass, his cock reaching into the deep depths of your pussy, his warm liquid heating you up as it seeps inside. He continuously chants while his orgasm rides out, “Fuckfuckfuckfuck.”

Panting, he pulls out quickly to prevent max overstimulation. He then falls backwards into the water, cock still out and proud as you quickly pull your bikini bottoms up. Filling him, you do the same, holding hands with him under the water.

I SUCK AT ENDINGS

#niki smut #enhypen niki #niki ff #enhypen smut #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fic #niki x reader #jay enhypen #enhypen #Anon ask

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bonefall · 3 days ago

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the ShadowClan talk made me look through Brokenstar's BB Tags, and. a) is Lizardstripe still related to Finchflight, if you are keeping Finch-Dawn as a couple (with Dawncloud's age redux)? b) i keep seeing stuff about Snowtuft and killing kits, but i cant find anything actually detailing on that on the blog, and one of the older posts also mentions that Blizzardwing is either his son/grandson AND that Lizardstripe's mother was the kit he couldn't kill. what is all that about, im dying to know.

This is info that's scattered across a bunch of different posts, plus more deets and changes I haven't had a chance to dive into. Snowtuft committed an atrocity which would torment his victims and descendants for generations, for both its legacy and its trauma.

SO I wanna put as much of it as possible into one place for now, so you don't have to go guessing based on older posts. Especially since some of those posts are long outdated, but I haven't contradicted them yet.

To start the story of the two families, it begins with Snowtuft and the bloody end of the Crusade Era.

CONTENT WARNING; this is one of BB's darkest tales. It involves depictions of xenophobic violence, child murder, war crime, PTSD, abuse, and kidnapping. BB!Snowtuft's a bad kitty!

SEE: Kitten Stealing

(Also: After writing it out, I kinda realized this would be great as a BB entry on its own. I should come back and clean this up someday.)

PART 1: THE LAST CRUSADE

Cedarstar inherited the Crusades from Houndstar, continuing them more out of respect for her legacy than true zealotry.

He had actually been chosen as a deputy because he would run the Clan while she was off gallavanting.

He wasn't a pushover or anything, just prefered logistics. Him and Pinestar were tragically ahead of their time.

...but like other cats of his time, he was from a culture that didn't extend personhood beyond the Clans. So, he continued the Crusades.

Even though they weren't getting easier.

Crystal of Chelford had already used a new tool to carve a red future for the cats of the town...

and what were once defenseless little targets began to unite into organized, armed response teams.

Non-BloodClan "zones" got rarer and rarer.

The territory and underlings of an influential cat named Jay were among the last holdouts, so it's where most of ShadowClan's raids were launched.

And on one of these raids... it happened fast.

Snowtuft turned an alley and was ruthlessly attacked. He defended himself.

In the confusion, another assailant ran towards him. He acted swiftly.

It was reflex! Instinct! He couldn't tell what was coming at him. It was a split second decision.

He couldn't undo what had happened. The kitten was dead, next to its mother.

And the others were screaming, crying, terrified.

Snowtuft doesn't remember what he did next. He doesn't want to.

But Puffballburr does.

She used to see it every night.

She remembers her name, too-- Pixie. And her mom. And her littermates.

And the look that washed over his eyes when he realized the ragged flesh at his feet was a kitten.

Raw shock, electrifying shame, the dawning horror of knowing you've definitely done something that you're going to get punished for.

And when his white, blood-splattered face turned slowly towards her and her wailing siblings, she recognized that emotion too.

It's a very childlike response, really.

He needed to cover up his accident.

And he almost did, too. It was dumb luck that stopped him as he grabbed her tail and dragged her out from her hiding place. One of his clanmates heard the awful racket, and Pixie had survived just long enough.

PART 2: ONE OF US

They took her away, just like any other "honor kitten," but the Clan cats believed this was different somehow.

Something about the naked horror of what Snowtuft did, maybe. Impossible to ignore.

But it's not like he faced any real justice for it, not that Puffballkit could remember seeing. So clearly it wasn't very different at all.

His mate left him, and the older warriors regarded him with a distant sort of "shame." He was ostracized from many circles.

But Puff's siblings had not been "clan cats" so the Warrior Code did not apply to them. He faced social dishonor, not legal.

Ever-merciful Cedarstar did not want to "ruin" more lives.

"Not when the kit is far too young to even remember what happened," he said. But she did remember.

And her name. Her mom. Her littermates. That face.

She just knew, growing up, that she couldn't know about it.

Because Snowtuft was always right there, just around the curve of the den, just behind the cover of the rose bush thorns, listening.

They're ALL Snowtuft.

To admit she remembers it is to admit she isn't one of them. And if you're not one of them, the law does not apply to you.

As a kid, she couldn't articulate it. But she understood it.

Deep down to her brittle, kittypet bones. Her filthy, stillwater blood.

The ungrateful heart that beat in her chest.

Fear expressed as a constant, calm obedience of authority. A permanent dread, as if living in a pack as a sheep in wolf's clothing

So she was quiet, notoriously so.

Whoever her foster was, Puff was like a little white shadow. It's where the warrior name came from, eventually-- a puffball clinging to someone's fur. (after writing this though, half of me wants to start calling her Lambfur or Lambfrost.)

ShadowClan plunged into the Campaign Era with Heatherstar's invasion of the Mothermouth Moorland, and the massacre of some kittypet family became awkward history. Those old enough to remember still kept a distance from Snowtuft... but war took its toll.

War means death and those older members of the Clan are not replaceable.

Younger cats weren't there to see the horror of what Snowtuft had done... and time would make him bolder.

Finding growing sympathy in his apprentices, spurred on by the hardening of the culture in tandem with the official birth of Thistle Law, Snowtuft started to change history.

The official Educator of ShadowClan (still unsure who this was) had one story, and Snowtuft had one too.

"Details" were quietly changed in his. They weren't "kits" but "young cats." They charged out to aid their mother. Then maybe she wasn't their mother. Who knows.

Pullball's name was left out of these stories, on both sides. No need for the kittens to know that she wasn't one of us.

And if she was? That's a good thing for her. Living the life of a Clan cat.

He wouldn't share if "he wasn't asked," but all of his actions, his language, was a silent plea to be asked.

He wanted to forget the whole thing, because of his nightmares, his constant shame and punishment, how hard the whole ordeal made his life-- but he couldn't so it was constantly coming out of his mouth.

There was a deep resentment on his end, towards Puffballburr. How she was part of the Clan now, always reminding him. Like it was her fault.

In the end, Snowtuft didn't blame himself. He blamed everything else. The guilt was killing him a little bit every day...

But not as much as that WindClan cat's claws did. Those killed him a lot in one day!

But Snowtuft's death didn't bring Puffballburr any peace. She just felt... annoyed. Which was strange to her-- she should feel relief, but, she didn't. She was just thinking about how the next battle with WindClan would be harder without an extra set of claws.

PART 3: GOING HOME

Puffballfur is the queen of low empathy, and her emotions are... hard to predict.

Not in a chaotic sort of way, but in a "Huh, interesting, I didn't think that of all things would get me going" sort of way.

She both lives in constant "fear" but also a persistent banality. It's kind of like being in a cage with a chained tiger, but you've marked the exact spot on the floor where the tiger's chain ends.

Imagine getting nightmares that stop you from sleeping, but you know that they aren't going to come true. So you lay there with a throbbing heart, mostly feeling annoyed that you're going to be tired in the morning.

That's her life.

Sometimes when she couldn't sleep, she'd roll on her back in the nest and critique the assassination attempt in her mind.

Did he think his dumb plan through? Or did he just react without thinking? It was going to be obvious he killed a bunch of kids, whether she survived or not.

Or maybe he would have just said that the rogue killed her own kits to prevent them from becoming Clan cats. They'd probably believe that.

Either way it was sloppy. Could have had more kits if he didn't kill her sibs.

She had connections within the Clan. A foster, hunting buddies, apprentice. She was kind to them, especially when they were useful. But...

It feels like she's not like them. Like they have variables to their behavior that she doesn't. Drives and desires that are pointless, sometimes even frustrating.

Like the concept of "honor." Ridiculous. Every single person who talks about it is hypocritical about it in some way, and it causes unnecessary fights in the camp and on the border because of ridiculous ego.

She just performs it because the other cats value it-- and when people like you, you get what you want.

I'm not sure who her mate was, or if it was even just one. In any case, when she found herself pregnant, she declared Queen's Rights. I feel like she might have had a fling with someone, but got annoyed by their clingy behavior.

When her daughters were born, Bracketkit and Lizardkit, she felt pride.

Because... they didn't belong to someone else. They weren't even really ShadowClan's. They were hers.

For the first time since her mother and littermates had been taken away from her, she felt like she was looking at family. People who would always be with her.

But that didn't last...

...because a chance encounter only a few moons later reconnected her with someone who remembered her.

Not a littermate, but an older sister. Marmalade. She couldn't believe that Pixie was alive.

This is a WIP zone because I'm not sure, yet, if I'm keeping Hal's attack on ShadowClan. In any case, they continued to reconnect for moons.

The fact that she was remembered, that she could talk openly about what happened, and that Marmalade wanted her and her kittens to come home made Puffballburr's stomach flutter with excitement. She felt valuable.

And with the war getting worse and worse, this was absolutely the best choice for her kittens as well. They would be safer with BloodClan than they would with ShadowClan.

No longer would she be Puffballburr. Her name was Pixie.

ENTER: LIZARDSTRIPE

Puffballburr wasn't a bad mother, but it would feel a lot better to be Lizardstripe if she could have the simplicity to just say she was.

Her earliest memories of her mom and her sibling were outside of the camp on a cool, clear spring night, laying in soft marshgrass. Puff was laying on her back with her hind legs bowed out, a kit tucked under each paw, pressed to her fluffy, warm chest. Her face was turned upward, quietly, at the moon, as her daughters slept peacefully.

She's not sure how long after she'd opened her eyes that this memory took place, but Lizardkit looked up towards the bright, starry sky... and she remembered that the light hurt.

Her needs were always taken care of, but Puffballburr hated explaining things.

You learned quick to treat your questions like a valuable resource, and to listen carefully.

Lizardkit was sharp, much sharper than her sister. She caught onto the way that her mother viewed relationships in a very transactional sort of way-- and stayed aware of her balance.

And had to consider the cost of doing the things her mother was fond of, versus what the other kittens and queens in the nursery expected of her.

What Puffball didn't realize when her children were born was that they were family, but they were also ShadowClan. Even if this was not something she had ever felt a connection to.

Deep down, it didn't truly click with her that her children were not extensions of herself.

And when Lizardkit was a child, learning history from the Educator and getting involved in more of the Clan's goings-on, Puffballburr spent less and less time with her. Because she was reconnecting with Marmalade.

When Bracket and Lizard had their apprentice ceremony, Puffballburr was not there.

Lizardpaw's mentor was the infamously powerful, chaotic fighter, Finchflight. Bracketpaw was assigned to Brackenfoot. (There is an earlier post suggesting that Lizi and Finf were going to be related. I decided to make them mentor/apprentice instead.)

Finchflight immediately began to stress the importance of loyalty. Being one of the younger cats who had sympathized with Snowtuft and knowing the secret behind Puffballburr's beginnings, he nurtured a pain within Lizardstripe. Encouraged her to let the distance between her and her family grow.

Eventually, Puffball told her children that they were going to leave ShadowClan. They had family in the town, would be safe there, could start a brand new life together.

And Lizardpaw was shocked.

It was like everything Finchflight had said was true.

And they were going to leave her.

She reacted violently to the suggestion, attacking her mother. Told them that she was going to expose them, lead a patrol right back to their new hiding place, bring them "back home."

In defense of Puffballburr, Bracketpaw brawled with her sister. They fought viciously, until their mother separated them with a desperate, devastating whack to Lizardpaw's head.

Laying dazed on the ground, she heard an apology before passing out.

When she woke up, she was safely protected within a blackthorn bush-- with a nick on the outside of her ear.

She stayed out there for hours, not knowing what to do, where her family had gone, or what she was going to say when she got home.

But, looking at her reflection in a puddle of water, she became so angry at the idea of this being her first scar that she ripped the other ear, on the opposite side.

When the search party found her, they asked what had happened to her. If she had seen her mother or her sister, or if something had gone wrong.

"Nah. Took a nap to get away from them. Ripped my ears on the thornbush."

Later, when she would be interrogated or questioned by people she didn't want to lie to, she would tell a half-truth;

"I did it to myself. Liked how it looked. Last I saw of Puffballburr and Bracketpaw, they were upset I'd done it and left, so I took a nap."

She didn't mind that her Clanmates thought this was weird. She didn't care about whispers that it was all done for attention, or that it was dishonorable to do such a thing and they probably met a predator after storming off, and she didn't even mind the gossip guessing at the "real" reason behind her ripped ears.

The only people who ever got the whole truth were the Forget-Me-Nots. After their disappearance, Lizardstripe didn't talk about her family for years, insisting upon having no further details. Even if it meant that mystery and suspicion would hang around her like a cloud.

BLIZZARDWING: KIN OF SNOWTUFT

Snowtuft's daughter was named Lilyfur. She was a kit when her father slaughtered Pixie's family.

When her mother left her father, she also distanced herself from him. This was something Snowtuft was outraged and saddened by.

But Lilyfur's mother couldn't stand the idea of a kitten-killer trying to stay close to her daughter. How could he look at little babies, the same age as his own child, and kill them?

Lilykit grew up very conflicted. She remembered how much she loved her dad, understood that he was a kitten murderer, but he continued to be so kind to her into adulthood.

It was hard to think of him as someone who could do something so horrible.

Earlier draft had Lilyfur die and her kittens were raised by their kin, Snowtuft, but I'm currently leaning towards Lilyfur being alive but just letting him be an active part of their lives-- in spite of her discomfort.

Because the more time he spent in her life, paradoxically, the more obsessed he became with all the "time he lost out on."

Which ended up including entertaining a lot of conversations about how he'd never done anything wrong, ever, and everyone was mean to him.

Lilyfur: "ok maybe he's not evil but my dad is really annoying <:/ but he's really lonely. He needs me. and i cant take him away from his grandkits"

From this, what Blizzardwing absorbed was the idea that love and forgiveness was always tolerating your family no matter what. This would express itself in his toxic relationship with Hollyflower.

But Blizzardwing now has a sibling. I haven't settled on a name yet-- but I'm playing with him either being Angelshade or Silkflower.

I really like the name "Angelshade" as a reference to the notoriously deadly white mushroom, the Destroying Angel. But also. someone in the audience asked if I could give the prefix "angel" to a cat because it's their name, and I feel a little bad about giving it to a character who is going to be one of the nastiest little background characters in all of BB lmaooooo

i'm so sorry angel (positive), is it okay if there's an angel (derogatory)

ANYWAY, Untitled Blizzardwing Sibling grew up adoring his grandpaw.

Radicalization can be a slow creep. He loved peepaw, so if he was asked when he was young, he would happily repeat the adjusted version of history he was taught.

And then when Snowtuft died, he wanted to remember him fondly. The story slowly changed, becoming more "accurate," just getting more comfortable with the idea of dehumanizing outsiders.

So what, if he killed some kittypet? And if some kits had already been indoctrinated into their kittypet life? It was still a gain for ShadowClan, in the end.

One summer day, without warning, he came home with two little kittens. One was white, one was brown, both had the pinkish tinge of poorly cleaned blood.

He grinned playfully at Brokenstar, and claimed Queen's Rights in a singsong tone.

Because of that rite, no one could ask where he'd gotten those kittens from. But everyone knew he'd done something grim.

Those kits, Whitewater and Brownstone, grew up under the crescendo of Brokenstar's reign, both taking part in the WindClan Massacre.

Whitewater's bloody story includes joining Mudclaw's Rebellion, giving birth to three kits, a souring relationship with her son, condemnation to the Dark Forest, ends in the Battle of the True Eclipse after killing her grandson.

Brownstone's tale includes a relationship with a WindClan cat during the bloodiest period in the history of their two Clans.

And their father's story ends in Chelford, after being exiled from ShadowClan by Nightstar. His canon counterpart is the Unnamed White Rogue from Rise of Scourge, who tries to order Scourge to be his personal servant.

(the other two cats are Braketail, the "Offbrand Brokenstar" pale tabby, and Pirateheart, the gray rogue with green eyes. Glitch Warriors for the pile!)

#better bones au #BB!Blizzardwing #BB!Lizardstripe #Brokenstar's Cataclysm #BB!TPB #BB!Snowtuft #BB!Pixie #Puffballburr #BB!Whitewater #BB!ShadowClan #BB!Snowkin #BB!Puffballkin #Crusade Era #Angelshade #Silkflower

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