#just thought i’d let you guys know I haven’t forgotten about you | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dayabelle · 1 month ago

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December

Pairings: Bakugo Katsuki x Fem Reader

Part 2!

Part 1, Part 3 soon

This one's a bit shorter then my other works but it won't always be this short

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December 2nd,

The morning light filtered through the frosty windowpanes of Y/n’s workshop, casting a soft glow over her workbench. She stirred a fresh cup of coffee, the warm aroma filling the air and mingling with the ever-present metallic scent of her tools and gadgets. It was quiet now, save for the occasional crunch of footsteps on the snowy street outside. She loved these calm moments before her day picked up speed.

With her mug in hand, Y/n walked over to the bulletin board hanging on the wall beside her bench. It was filled with pinned blueprints, notes, and checklists. At the top of her list for the day was finishing some sketches for shock-absorbent gloves, an idea that had been rattling around in her brain for weeks.

Settling onto her stool, Y/n flipped open her notebook to a fresh page. Her pencil glided over the paper, bringing the gloves to life. She thought about the pro heroes she’d seen struggling with heavy impact injuries—how a bit of clever engineering could reduce those risks. The sketches became more detailed as she jotted down notes:

Adjustable compression settings.

Reinforced yet lightweight material.

Energy redistribution to minimize strain.

Minutes turned to hours as she lost herself in the creative process. Her coffee cooled beside her, forgotten. The quiet hum of the street outside became a comforting background melody.

But the sound of the bell above her shop’s door jolted her from her focus. She glanced up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, and saw a familiar figure wrapped in layers of winter clothing.

“Hey, Y/n!” Ochako Uraraka’s voice was bright, her cheeks pink from the cold as she stepped inside.

Y/n blinked in surprise before smiling. “Ochako! What brings you here this early? I wasn’t expecting visitors.”

Ochako laughed, brushing snow off her boots and unwinding her scarf. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just thought I’d stop by—talk about some gear stuff, and, well, maybe just hang out for a bit.”

“You? Hanging out? That’s new,” Y/n teased, motioning for her to come in. “I’m guessing your schedule finally let up a little?”

Ochako shrugged, pulling off her gloves and plopping down onto a nearby stool. “Something like that. It’s December—feels like everyone’s slowing down a bit. Plus, Deku told me you’ve got a big meeting today, and I just had to come see how you’re feeling about it.”

Y/n groaned, grabbing a rag to wipe her hands clean. “Let me guess. Bakugo?”

“Ding, ding,” Ochako said, smirking. “Come on, what’s going through your head? The guy’s kind of...intense, you know.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Y/n replied, leaning against her workbench. “I mean, I’m not really worried. It’s not like I haven’t worked with stubborn heroes before. But he’s got a reputation, and I’m hoping he doesn’t live up to it.”

Ochako giggled. “Well, good luck with that. Honestly, though, you’re probably the best person to handle him. You’re like...unshakable.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Y/n said, smiling. “How about you? Anything new with your gear?”

Ochako’s face lit up as she leaned forward. “Actually, yes! I’ve been thinking about a new design for my boots—something that could give me more control when I’m floating heavier objects. You’re still the only person I trust to make it happen.”

Y/n reached for her notebook. “Alright, tell me what you’re thinking.”

The two spent the next hour brainstorming ideas, Y/n sketching as Ochako animatedly explained her vision. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from hero gear to casual gossip. Ochako filled Y/n in on funny stories from her hero work, tales of Deku’s overworking tendencies, and updates on Eri’s progress.

“Deku’s been running himself ragged,” Ochako said, shaking her head. “I swear, he doesn’t know the meaning of taking a break. But, honestly? I think he’s really excited about you meeting Bakugo today. He thinks it’s going to work out great.”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Of course he does. He’s been hyping it up all week.”

“Maybe he’s right,” Ochako said with a grin. “I mean, if anyone can get Bakugo to chill for five minutes, it’s probably you.”

"Bakugo Katsuki," she muttered to herself, placing a few prototype sketches into a drawer. She couldn’t help but wonder how today would go. Izuku had said he was intense—and that was putting it lightly. From what she’d seen on TV, Bakugo was all bark and plenty of bite.

Her gaze drifted to the clock hanging on the wall. It was only 9:00 a.m., but she knew better than to waste any time. Kirishima would likely arrive on time, cheerful and eager, but Bakugo? She wasn’t sure what to expect.

Y/n tied her hair back into a practical ponytail, pushing aside a few stray strands from her face as she surveyed the area. Red Riot’s completed gear sat neatly on the workbench, polished and ready for pickup, but she’d made sure to clear enough space for the two new arrivals.

Y/n leaned over her notebook, pencil tapping against her lip as she processed Ochako’s description of the boots. The shop was warm and cozy, filled with the faint scent of melted wax from the candles she’d lit earlier. The soft glow from the lights strung around the shop framed the room in hues of gold and green. On the workbench beside her were scattered screws, bolts, and bits of leftover red material from Red Riot’s gear.

Outside, the muffled sound of laughter and caroling drifted in from the street. Y/n glanced briefly toward the frosted window, catching the sight of bundled-up children tugging sleds and shopkeepers arranging garlands on their doors. It was a peaceful scene, contrasting the chaos she usually worked in during December.

Ochako shifted in her chair, her finger tracing over one of Y/n’s sketches. “I love how you add so much detail to everything. Like this,” she said, pointing to a design for a stabilizing mechanism. “It’s stuff no one else would think of, but it always makes the gear feel...I don’t know, personal.”

Y/n smiled faintly, her fingers brushing the edge of her notebook. “That’s kind of the goal. Hero work is personal. Everyone fights differently, so their gear should match. Plus, I guess I’m a bit of a perfectionist.”

“A bit?” Ochako teased, raising an eyebrow.

Y/n chuckled, tossing her pencil onto the bench. “Alright, maybe more than a bit. But it’s worth it when the heroes tell me the difference it makes. That’s what I care about.”

Her gaze drifted to the shelf above her workbench, where a collection of thank-you notes and small trinkets from various heroes were displayed. Among them was a tiny, hand-carved figure of a bear from Eri, a framed sketch of her first design from Deku, and a polished silver medal from Red Riot for her work on his early gear.

Ochako followed her gaze and smiled. “You know, if you ever decided to take a break from the workshop, you’d probably be swarmed with invitations to dinner from all your clients. They love you.”

Y/n snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Dinner sounds nice, but you know me. I’d probably end up sketching designs on the tablecloth instead of eating.”

The two laughed, and Y/n reached for her coffee mug, grimacing when she realized it had gone cold. She set it aside and stood, stretching her arms above her head. Her thoughts wandered to the afternoon ahead.

“I can’t believe I let Deku talk me into meeting Bakugo,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “It’s not that I’m nervous or anything—it’s just...he’s a lot.”

Ochako tilted her head, studying Y/n. “You’re overthinking it. Just treat him like any other client. If he gets out of line, well, you’re Y/n L/n. You can handle him.”

Y/n sighed, her lips quirking into a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess so. But it’s hard to ignore the whole ‘walking explosion’ thing. Deku talks about him like he’s a bomb waiting to go off.”

Ochako laughed. “That’s not far off. But he’s got a good side too. You’ll see. Just...maybe keep anything flammable out of reach.”

Y/n smirked and shook her head, glancing at the clock. It was nearing 11:00 a.m., which meant she had about an hour before Bakugo and Red Riot arrived.

Ochako must have noticed her glance because she stood, pulling on her gloves. “Alright, I’ll let you get back to work. But you’ll have to tell me everything later. I want details about this meeting.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but grinned. “Sure, sure. Just don’t expect anything dramatic.”

As Ochako wrapped her scarf around her neck, Y/n walked her to the door. The bell jingled as Ochako stepped outside into the snow-covered street. She turned back, giving Y/n a quick wave before disappearing into the bustling crowd.

Y/n lingered by the door for a moment, watching as the world outside came alive with the vibrant energy of the season. She could hear the faint strains of a holiday tune playing from a nearby speaker, blending with the chatter of people exchanging greetings and the clatter of footsteps on icy cobblestones.

Her thoughts returned to Bakugo. Despite Ochako’s reassurances, she couldn’t help but feel a flicker of apprehension. She had worked with all kinds of personalities in the past, but something about this meeting felt different. Maybe it was the way Deku had insisted on it, or the fact that Bakugo had gone through multiple gear designers before coming to her.

Y/n shook her head, brushing the thoughts aside. She had work to do. Grabbing her notebook, she made her way back to the bench, tidying up the scattered tools and clearing space for the upcoming meeting. As she worked, the nervous energy slowly faded, replaced by the familiar rhythm of her routine.

As Y/n rose from her seat in the cafe, the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries surrounded her. She approached the counter, handing the barista a few bills as she ordered a to-go cup of their signature roast. The barista smiled warmly, quickly preparing her drink and sliding the cup across the counter. Y/n grasped it, the warmth of the coffee seeping through the cardboard sleeve into her fingers.

Pushing open the door, the bell jingled softly, and the chill of the outside air greeted her. She adjusted her scarf, the faint aroma of cinnamon and evergreen lingering in the air. The festive decorations glinted in the morning light—the strings of red and green fairy lights twinkling above her, and wreaths adorning shop doors.

The town square sprawled out ahead of her as she walked back toward her workshop. Cobblestones dusted with snow crunched beneath her boots, and the chatter of townsfolk filled the air. At the center of the square stood the massive Christmas tree, towering and majestic, its branches adorned with golden ribbons, sparkling baubles, and delicate ornaments. A small train of children circled the tree, their laughter echoing as they admired its grandeur.

Nearby, a group of carolers huddled together, their harmonious voices carrying through the square. The melodies of “Jingle Bells” floated around Y/n as she walked past, the sound blending with the jingling of bells and occasional calls from vendors selling roasted chestnuts and warm cider.

She paused for a moment by the tree, taking in the scene. The way the snow clung to the branches of the tree and rooftops reminded her why she loved this little corner of town so much. It was serene yet alive, a perfect balance that fueled her creativity.

Clutching her coffee tightly, Y/n resumed her walk. Her workshop came into view, the frosted windows glowing warmly from the light inside. She unlocked the door and stepped into the familiar space, the comforting smell of oil and metal greeting her like an old friend.

Once inside, she set her coffee on the desk and got back to work.

Back in her workshop, Y/n settled into her desk chair, pulling her laptop closer. Her coffee sat steaming beside her, untouched as she opened the secure portal provided by the Hero Commission. Only certified hero gear designers had access to these files, which included in-depth analyses of quirks, combat footage, and notes from heroes themselves about their gear. She typed in the credentials Deku had shared with her yesterday for Bakugo Katsuki’s profile and pressed enter.

The screen filled with detailed reports. Her eyes skimmed the initial overview:

Hero Name: Dynamight

Quirk: Explosion

Mechanics: Sweats a nitroglycerin-like substance from his palms, igniting it to create explosions of varying intensity.

She clicked on a section titled Combat Footage. Clips began to play, showcasing Bakugo in action. His movements were ferocious, fast, and precise, but chaotic at the same time. He used his explosions for propulsion, blasting himself across the battlefield with remarkable speed. She noticed how he used his gauntlets to channel and store excess sweat, firing concentrated blasts when needed.

“Smart,” she murmured to herself, watching as he obliterated a massive stone wall during a training session. “But there’s room for improvement.”

She paused the footage and leaned back, her mind already racing with ideas. The gauntlets he currently used were bulky and seemed to weigh him down during long battles. While their storage capacity for his sweat was impressive, they lacked flexibility. She also noticed that Bakugo occasionally flinched after firing larger blasts, likely from the force reverberating through his arms.

Opening another file, she studied the blueprints of his existing hero gear. The gauntlets were made of a reinforced alloy that could withstand high temperatures, but they didn’t seem optimized for maneuverability. Bakugo’s quirk relied heavily on his speed and agility; he needed something that complemented those traits.

Y/n began sketching on a piece of graph paper, her pencil moving swiftly across the page.

She started writing down some plans.

Improvments to old design-

Lightweight Material: Replace the alloy with a cutting-edge, heat-resistant carbon fiber. This would significantly reduce the weight without compromising durability.

Dynamic Storage Chambers: Instead of one large storage unit, she envisioned several smaller, modular chambers integrated into the gauntlets. These would allow Bakugo to regulate the release of his sweat more efficiently, offering him better control during prolonged battles.

Shock Absorption System: She planned to line the interior with a gel-based material that could absorb and distribute the impact from larger blasts, minimizing strain on his arms.

Adaptive Fit: She wanted to incorporate an adjustable mechanism that would allow the gauntlets to mold to his arms, ensuring maximum comfort and reducing unnecessary movement.

Integrated HUD: Though Bakugo didn’t seem like the type to rely on tech too much, Y/n considered adding a small, retractable heads-up display to one gauntlet. It could provide him with real-time data about the gauntlet’s sweat levels and temperature.

She returned to the combat footage, replaying a moment where Bakugo propelled himself upward, firing rapid explosions from his palms. His movement was seamless, but she noticed how his gauntlets dragged slightly when he twisted mid-air.

“He’s compensating for their weight,” she muttered. “If I can make them lighter, his precision will improve.”

The reports also detailed Bakugo’s tolerance to his own explosions. His hands could withstand immense heat, but prolonged use led to redness and swelling. Y/n jotted down a note to include a cooling mechanism in the lining—perhaps something that could release a soothing mist after heavy use.

Her thoughts turned to the design itself. She wanted the gauntlets to look intimidating, matching Bakugo’s explosive personality. She sketched a sleek, angular design with sharp edges, the carbon fiber glinting in her imagination like obsidian. She added a small insignia resembling an explosion near the wrist—subtle, but fitting.

By the time she looked up from her sketches, it had already become noon. Her coffee was cold, and her shoulders ached from leaning over her desk. But she smiled, satisfied with the rough blueprint in front of her.

"Let’s see how he likes it," she thought, rolling her neck as she glanced at the clock. She felt ready to meet Bakugo and see if her vision for his gear aligned with his. For someone as demanding as Dynamight, she knew this was just the beginning.

As she leaned back to admire her sketches, the shrill ring of her phone broke her concentration. She grabbed it off the desk, her eyes lighting up when she saw the name flashing on the screen: Kirishima.

"Hey, Red Riot," she answered, still catching her breath from her brainstorming session.

“Y/n! Hey! Sorry to bother you,” Kirishima’s cheerful voice came through, loud and bright as ever. “I just wanted to check in about the gear. Bakugo told me you’re working on some designs for him, too. We were thinking, uh—maybe we could just come by together to pick mine up and talk about his?”

Y/n smiled, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, that works. I just finished up your gear, actually. Your timing is impeccable.”

“Sweet! I’m excited to see it,” Kirishima said, his voice laced with enthusiasm. “What time works for you? I know you told me yesterday but ive been so busy”

“Noon. You guys can swing by then,” Y/n said, glancing at her sketches of Bakugo’s gauntlets. “It’ll give me time to prep for whatever nitpicky feedback Dynamight’s going to throw my way.”

Kirishima laughed. “Yeah, he’s got... opinions. But don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check.”

“Thanks, Eijiro. I’ll see you both at noon, then,” she said, ending the call with a smile.

As she set her phone down, Y/n took a moment to collect her thoughts. Bakugo Katsuki and Eijiro Kirishima—two of Japan’s most notable heroes—were about to walk into her workshop. It was a mix of excitement and nervousness, but she was ready. Or at least, she hoped she was. She had famous heroes stop by a couple of times, but these were heroes that her friends were close to. So it felt somewhat different.

The call with Kirishima basically said "were on our way now" so she hopped up from her chair.

Y/n set her phone down and glanced around her workshop. While it wasn’t a complete mess, it certainly wasn’t in pristine condition. Scraps of metal, blueprints, and tools cluttered her workbench, and a light dusting of sawdust coated the floor near the storage shelves. She rolled up her sleeves, ready to tidy up before her guests arrived.

She began by organizing her tools, placing wrenches, screwdrivers, and hammers back into their designated spots on the wall-mounted pegboard. The sound of metal clinking softly filled the room as she worked. Next, she gathered the scattered blueprints and stacked them neatly on her desk, making sure to tuck away anything unrelated to Bakugo or Kirishima’s projects.

As she worked, the faint aroma of coffee from her earlier cup lingered in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of her workshop. She grabbed a broom from the corner and swept up the sawdust and stray screws that had somehow made their way to the floor. Despite the hustle, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming meeting.

Y/n was used to dealing with pro heroes—her work attracted them, after all—but there was something different about this one. Maybe it was the way Midoriya had talked about Bakugo, the fiery personality he’d described in vivid detail. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d never worked with someone quite as infamous for their temper.

She finished tidying up the workbench and glanced at the clock. It was 11:50. Ten minutes. She sighed and leaned back against the counter, finally noticing her reflection in the window. Her black long-sleeve shirt, snug against her figure, and loose black sweatpants weren’t exactly what she’d consider meeting-hero clients attire.

But it was too late to change now. Besides, she figured comfort trumped style in her line of work. With that thought, she took a deep breath, grabbed the finished gear she’d prepared for Kirishima, and placed them carefully on the workbench.

The small bell above her door jingled, signaling their arrival. Y/n turned to see two towering figures entering her shop. Kirishima, his spiky red hair as vibrant as ever, stepped in first, his broad smile lighting up the room. Right behind him was Bakugo Katsuki, his ash-blond hair messy in a way that seemed deliberate, his sharp red eyes scanning the workshop.

“Yo, Y/n!” Kirishima greeted enthusiastically, brushing a few snowflakes off his jacket. “Thanks for letting us come by together.”

Bakugo, on the other hand, stayed silent, his gaze shifting around the room. His eyes lingered on the intricate tools and designs scattered about, and he crossed his arms as if he were already evaluating the place.

“Hey, Eijiro. And… you must be Dynamight,” Y/n said, offering a polite smile. “Come on in.”

“Yeah,” Bakugo muttered, stepping further into the room. His presence was intimidating, but Y/n held her ground. She motioned for them to follow her toward the workbench, ready to dive into what she hoped would be a productive meeting.

Y/n led Kirishima and Bakugo toward her workbench, where the gloves and arm strains she’d designed for Kirishima were displayed. She grabbed a sheet of paper from the edge of the desk and handed it to Kirishima with a small smile.

“These are the details for your new gear,” she explained, pointing to the carefully organized list of features. “I focused on making them lighter without compromising their durability. I used material that will channel your speed and shock-absorbent, so they’ll hold up better during prolonged battles or harsher environments. The adjustments should also help you maintain your stamina.”

Kirishima scanned the paper with a bright grin, his red eyes lighting up as he nodded enthusiastically. “This is amazing, Y/n! You always outdo yourself.” He lifted one of the gauntlets, inspecting its craftsmanship. “The detail is insane. You’re a lifesaver.”

Y/n shrugged modestly, but the praise made her lips quirk up slightly. “I know how important durability and flexibility are for you. If there’s anything that feels off when you’re testing it out, let me know, and I’ll tweak it.”

“You got it,” Kirishima said, carefully placing the items into his gear bag. He glanced at Bakugo, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, silently observing. “Alright, I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll see you later, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered, waving Kirishima off without looking at him. Kirishima paid in advance, he already knew you would give him the results he needed.

Kirishima laughed and shot Y/n a thumbs-up before heading for the door. The bell jingled softly as he left, leaving the shop in silence.

Y/n turned to Bakugo, brushing her hands on her sweatpants before grabbing a set of blueprints from the workbench. She held them out to him, her posture calm but her mind racing slightly as she waited to gauge his reaction.

“Here’s what I came up with,” she said. “It’s a rough idea based on the videos I watched of you in action and the research I did on your quirk and current gear. Let me know what you think.”

Bakugo took the blueprints without a word, his expression unreadable as his sharp red eyes scanned the designs. The silence stretched on, filled only by the faint hum of the workshop lights.

Y/n resisted the urge to fidget, instead leaning back slightly against the workbench, watching his reaction carefully. She had dealt with stoic heroes before, but there was something about Bakugo’s intensity that made the silence feel heavier.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You actually looked into my quirk for this?”

“Of course,” Y/n replied simply. “If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to create something functional. The modifications I proposed here,” she leaned forward, pointing to the blueprint, “will improve the efficiency of your gauntlets, letting you channel smaller, controlled explosions when needed without sacrificing power output for the larger ones. I also added heat dispersal channels to reduce strain during prolonged battles.”

Bakugo nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the paper. “Hatsume never put this much thought into it,” he muttered almost to himself, his tone lacking its usual edge.

Y/n raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. Instead, she crossed her arms and waited for him to continue.

“This isn’t bad,” Bakugo finally admitted, glancing up at her. “Not bad at all.” It was fucking perfect, he had to resist the urge to grin like a maniac. He would become unstoppable with this, he already had so many images in his mind of how he could use this to become better.

“High praise coming from you, Dynamight,” Y/n replied, her tone light but her lips twitching into a faint smirk.

“Tch. Don’t get cocky,” he grumbled, though his expression didn’t carry the usual bite. He folded the blueprint carefully and tucked it under his arm. “When do you think you can have a prototype ready?”

“Depends,” Y/n said, already mentally calculating the timeline. “If you’re serious about this, I’ll need to do some fittings and tests with you first. No point in making a prototype that doesn’t work for you.”

Bakugo nodded again, his intense gaze meeting hers. “Fine. Just don’t waste my time.”

“I don’t plan to,” she replied evenly, her eyes unwavering.

For a moment, they stared at each other. Then Bakugo straightened, adjusting his stance.

“Alright. When do we start?”

Y/n stood in front of Bakugo, her fingers brushing through the air as she explained the materials she would need to get started on his gauntlet prototype. She moved fluidly, her hands gesturing as she spoke, outlining the complexity of the design in a way that was second nature to her.

“Alright, first things first,” she said, her tone clear and focused. “I’ll need a specialized alloy—something lightweight but durable enough to handle the heat and shock from your explosions. That’s about $2,000 just for the raw materials. I’ll also need heat-dispersal channels to manage the thermal output from your quirk, which will run around $1,200.”

As she spoke, she walked around the workshop, gathering scattered tools and a few reference materials, as though illustrating her thoughts in the space around her. She then turned, meeting Bakugo’s gaze, and continued, “I’ll need an explosion-containment lining inside the gauntlets to handle the shockwaves. That’ll be another $1,000. Plus, there’s the electronics—the trigger mechanisms, the sensors to make sure everything is responsive and reliable, that’ll cost about $800.”

Bakugo stood silently, arms crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp as he watched her explain, his lips twitching slightly, though he didn’t interrupt.

“I’ll also need to account for testing materials, because, you know, things don’t always work out perfectly on the first try. That’s another $500. And, of course, using CNC machines for precision cutting and the 3D printer to create components will be another $2,000.” She paused, taking a breath. “I’ll need time to do all this, so we’re looking at about $2,500 for labor and overhead costs. And since I’ll need to use some special hero commission materials, we’re looking at an additional $500 there.”

She looked at him then, raising an eyebrow, giving him a moment to absorb the numbers before adding, “So, all in all, we’re talking about $11,500 to get a full prototype ready.”

Bakugo didn’t flinch, but there was a noticeable tension in his jaw as he heard the cost. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a thick stack of cash, his fingers tightening around the bills. He didn’t say a word—just grunted low in his throat and handed it over to her.

Y/n took the money, not at all surprised by his blunt approach, but she couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the stack in her hands. “Not a word, huh?”

Bakugo shrugged, looking away. “I’m not here to waste time. Get it done.”

She glanced down at the cash, counting it quickly, before nodding. “Alright. I’ll get started immediately. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

He turned to leave, not offering much more than a sharp “Good,” as he headed toward the door.

“Hey, Bakugo,” Y/n called out just before he reached the threshold.

He stopped, half-turning toward her with a raised eyebrow.

“If this works out the way I think it will, you won’t regret it,” she said, her voice steady, though there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Bakugo just grunted in response and left without another word, the door jingling as he exited. Y/n stood there for a moment, glancing at the cash in her hand before putting it into her desk drawer.

“Guess it’s time to get to work,” she muttered to herself, already thinking about the next steps in the process, the quiet hum of her workshop filling the space once again.

The quiet of the workshop was comforting. The hum of the machines, the occasional clink of tools, and the soft buzz of her thoughts as Y/n set to work on Bakugo's gauntlets. The pressure to deliver something extraordinary didn’t faze her. She thrived under it, and the $11,500 in her desk drawer now felt like fuel rather than a burden.

She started by laying the groundwork—the design, the blueprint she’d handed Bakugo, now spread out before her on the workbench. She had every intention of refining it, fine-tuning it as she went, but this was her starting point. The key was precision. Each detail mattered. Bakugo’s gauntlets had to reflect both the raw power of his quirk and the controlled precision he needed to prevent injury from the sheer force he wielded.

First, she focused on the gauntlet structure itself—the base. She reached for a few sheets of the alloy material, noting the color and texture as she ran her fingers across it. It was lightweight but strong, the kind of metal that would absorb the shockwave from his explosions without crumbling under pressure. As she sliced through it with a laser cutter, her mind raced ahead to the next steps. The gauntlets would need cooling channels to handle the heat from the constant explosions.

She pulled out the high-tech filaments that would make up the internal cooling systems, cutting thin strips to fit the gauntlet’s curves. There was a certain satisfaction in working with these materials—each one felt like a perfect fit, much like a puzzle that, once complete, would give Bakugo the edge he needed in battle. As she worked, she couldn’t help but think back on their first encounter. Despite his rough exterior, there was something about the way he carried himself that made her think he was capable of collaboration, not just stubbornness. It gave her a glimmer of hope that this partnership might turn out better than she originally expected.

She worked with a focused intensity, hands moving fluidly as she welded the cooling channels into place, ensuring they were secure and precise. The internal circuitry was just as important as the outer materials. She carefully designed the wiring that would run through the gauntlets, making sure the feedback sensors would respond to Bakugo’s movements, allowing for immediate adjustments. She cut out the small compartments for the sensors, ensuring they were compact enough not to add unnecessary weight but sophisticated enough to be effective.

As the hours slipped away, the rhythm of her work kept her grounded. The afternoon light outside started to fade, the snow beginning to accumulate once again on the windowsill, but inside, the workshop remained bright with overhead lights, the glowing edges of her work casting soft shadows against the walls. The smell of burning metal and fresh components filled the air, an aroma Y/n was more than familiar with, a scent that meant progress.

With each weld, each adjustment, she grew more certain this project would be one of her best yet. It was a good feeling, one that had been absent for a while. Y/n had worked with dozens of pro heroes, each with their own quirks, each with their own needs, but Bakugo’s gauntlets felt different. They felt important, like this was more than just another paycheck or another job to tick off. She could see the potential in him. The gauntlets weren’t just about power—they were about refining that power, helping Bakugo control it better. That made the task feel personal in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

She glanced over at the clock—almost six hours had passed since she started. She hadn’t even realized it was so late. She stopped for a moment, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, leaving a smear of grease across her face. She didn’t mind; it was part of the process.

The prototype was beginning to take shape. The metal frame of the gauntlets had been fully assembled, the internal components locked into place. The cooling system was in the final stages, and the wiring was nearly complete. She reached for the finishing touches—smoothly applying the final protective layers and ensuring the heat dispersion technology would function at peak efficiency.

As she worked, she thought back to Bakugo. He was more than just a short-tempered, explosion-happy hero—there was something beneath all that. She hadn’t seen the worst of him yet, but she could tell he had a purpose in mind, and she had a feeling he wasn’t as difficult to work with as Deku had painted him to be.

“Not as bad as you thought, huh?” she whispered to herself with a small smile, placing the gauntlet down carefully and surveying her work.

It was then that she realized—she could see herself working with him again in the future. The complexity of the project was rewarding, but there was also something satisfying about bringing a design to life that was uniquely tailored to a person. She had no doubt that Bakugo would be back once this was done.

Taking a step back, Y/n let out a breath, allowing herself a moment of pause before she started to put everything away for the night. The gauntlets were almost ready for testing, and soon, she would have to hand them over. She couldn’t help but wonder what his reaction would be. Would he appreciate the care she’d taken? Would he be surprised by how much effort she’d put into understanding his needs, his quirks?

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was eager to see.

Y/n took a step back from her workbench, eyes scanning over the gauntlets one last time. The prototype was finished and ready for Bakugo’s approval. She wiped her hands on a rag, then reached for her phone on the desk. The quiet of the workshop was now only punctuated by the soft clicks of her fingers on the screen as she typed.

She could feel a certain tension as she composed the message, not because she doubted her work, but because it felt like the final step—she was finally about to send Bakugo the results of all her hard work.

Hey, Bakugo. The prototype is ready. I’ve tested the cooling system and the wiring, and it should be good to go. Come by tomorrow around noon to test it out and let me know if you need any adjustments. If you like it, we’ll talk about the next phase of the project—creating the real thing. Let me know. Y/n

She hovered her thumb over the send button for a moment before quickly tapping it.

Setting the phone down, Y/n moved to check the clock again—it was already getting late, but a feeling of accomplishment made it hard to relax. With the message sent, her mind started to wander through the possibilities of tomorrow. Bakugo’s reaction, the adjustments he might ask for, the pressure of making sure the prototype met all his expectations. She had a sense that Bakugo would be… difficult, but it was a good challenge. She knew the stakes of the job now, and it would be worth every bit of effort.

She tidied up around the workshop, organizing her tools and putting away the leftover materials. The place was filled with the faint, lingering smell of metalwork and machine oil. She had managed to create a perfect, functional prototype, but there was still more work to be done once Bakugo gave his final feedback. She hoped it would be a good test.

After everything was cleaned up, she grabbed a quick drink from the fridge and sat back down at her desk, still buzzing with excitement over the gauntlets. It would be a busy day tomorrow.

The evening passed in a warm, easy rhythm, with Eri's giggles and stories filling the shop as the two of them shared snacks and swapped small talk. The cozy hum of the heater in the corner of the shop provided a comforting background as the wind outside howled softly against the windows, and the dim glow from the overhead lights cast a gentle ambiance over the room. They spent hours talking about everything from school to the heroes Eri admired, to stories Y/n told about the latest projects she was working on. There was a sense of calm, of contentment in the air, as they sank into the moment.

After the movie ended, and Y/n made sure Eri was comfortable on the couch with a blanket, the young girl sat up suddenly, her bright eyes wide with curiosity. "Y/n..." she began, her voice tentative yet full of hope. "Can you teach me something small? I want to learn how you make all your amazing gear. I know I'm still young, but... I think it would be really cool to know even a little bit about it. Please?"

Y/n paused for a moment, surprised by the request, but there was a warmth in Eri’s face, a genuine desire to learn. She couldn’t say no. With a soft smile, Y/n nodded, a small chuckle escaping her lips. "Alright, but only something small. You're still getting the hang of all this stuff."

Eri bounced on her feet, grinning ear to ear as she followed Y/n down the stairs. The dimly lit shop seemed even more peaceful in the late hours, the lights from the upstairs hallway casting long shadows as Y/n moved toward the storage room. She reached for the doorknob, pulling open the heavy door to reveal shelves lined with tools, boxes of wires, metal pieces, and components that had been used in countless projects.

Eri stepped inside, her eyes gleaming as she looked around the room, taking in everything. The air smelled faintly of oil and metal, a scent Y/n had grown so familiar with over the years, but to Eri, it was like stepping into another world. Everything looked so complicated, yet so exciting.

Y/n motioned for Eri to sit down on the floor with her, and they both crossed their legs. Y/n set a small project in front of them: a simple gear mechanism that needed to be assembled. It was basic, just a few pieces to put together, but it was the perfect place to start. She handed Eri a wrench and a few screws. "Okay," she began, "this is a basic gear system. It’s what I use in some of the prototypes when I need to test how things move and interact. All you need to do is line up the gears and use the wrench to tighten them into place. It's simple but precise work."

Eri’s hands shook slightly as she took the pieces, her fingers not quite sure where to begin. Y/n smiled, her voice soft and encouraging. "It's okay, take your time. Start with this piece here," she said, pointing to the largest gear. "Line it up like this..." Y/n moved her hand gently over Eri’s, guiding her fingers into position. "Now, tighten the screws just like this."

The warmth from the lamp beside them made everything feel intimate, almost like a private moment between them, a scene pulled straight out of a quiet film. The only sound was the soft clink of metal, the faint hum of the heater, and Eri's soft breaths of concentration. Y/n sat next to her on the floor, her legs crossed, her hands resting lightly on her knees, watching Eri carefully. There was a quiet intensity to it, the girl’s determination clear in every small movement, every furrow of her brow as she tried to understand the mechanics of what she was building.

Y/n didn’t rush her, watching as Eri carefully placed the pieces together, her movements tentative at first, but growing more confident with each small success. There were moments of frustration, the pieces not fitting correctly or the gears not clicking into place, but each time Eri made a mistake, Y/n gently guided her back on track, explaining things in simple terms.

"That’s okay, just try again," Y/n said, her voice gentle, guiding her through the small mess-ups. "You’ll get it. It’s all about patience."

Eri nodded eagerly, her face flushed with the small victories. Slowly, as the pieces began to fall into place, her confidence grew, and the gears clicked together perfectly. Eri looked up at Y/n with a proud grin. "I did it! Look!" she said, holding up the small gear mechanism, now fully assembled.

Y/n smiled softly, her heart swelling with pride at how far Eri had come in just a short amount of time. "You did great," she said warmly. "Just remember, it’s all about taking your time and staying patient."

Eri’s face lit up with excitement, but she looked down at the gear she had made, her hands still trembling with the energy of the moment. "I’m going to be like you one day, Y/n. I swear."

Y/n chuckled softly, ruffling Eri’s hair affectionately. "You’re already on your way, Eri. Just keep practicing. I'll send you home with some basic stuff tomorrow. "

With the small project finished, they stood up together and began making their way back upstairs. The whole atmosphere in the shop felt like it had slowed down, as though the world outside had paused to watch them. Eri was still buzzing with excitement, talking about everything she had learned and asking more questions about gears and her future as a hero.

When they finally reached the bed, Y/n set up the blankets and pillows for a comfortable spot to settle in. Eri quickly curled up under the warm covers, her eyes growing heavy as she settled next to Y/n. They started another movie, but soon the quiet of the evening and the gentle glow of the screen lulled them both into a peaceful silence.

Y/n smiled softly as she glanced over at Eri, her heart full. This moment, this simple night, felt like a memory she would keep forever. Something that would be etched into her mind like the soft hum of gears spinning—steady, constant, and full of promise for the future. Maybe because Y/n had always wanted a daughter, even if Eri wasn't close enough to be considered one. Moments like these filled her heart.

---

The morning sun was just starting to peek through the blinds when Y/n heard the soft shuffle of Eri’s footsteps coming down the stairs. It was still early, but the excitement of a new day had already worked its way into the young girl’s energy. Y/n had already been awake, preparing a cup of coffee in the kitchen as she checked her phone.

Eri came into the kitchen, her backpack slung over one shoulder, looking much more grown-up than she had when she first arrived at Y/n’s place. Her hair was neatly combed, her uniform crisp, and she had a bright, eager smile that made Y/n’s heart flutter with affection.

"Morning!" Eri chirped, the cheerfulness in her voice making the space feel warmer.

"Morning," Y/n replied, setting the mug down on the counter. She turned to look at Eri, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Ready for school?"

Eri nodded, biting her lip as she glanced around, as though trying to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind. "I really appreciate you letting me stay over. It was so fun! And thank you for teaching me that stuff last night." Her voice dropped a little shyly as she thought back to their time in the workshop.

Y/n smiled softly. “Anytime, Eri. You did great last night. I’m sure you’ll be building your own stuff in no time.”

Eri beamed, her eyes sparkling. "You really think so?"

Y/n chuckled. "I know so."

Eri rushed over and gave Y/n a quick hug, surprising her for a moment. The younger girl was often reserved, but moments like this made Y/n’s heart ache with tenderness.

"Well," Eri said, pulling back and adjusting her backpack, "I’ll see you later! I’ll tell Shota you said hi!"

"Take care, and have a good day at school," Y/n called after her as Eri darted out the door, the sound of the bell ringing lightly behind her as she ran to catch up with her classmates.

Y/n watched her go for a moment before sighing contentedly, the house feeling quieter again. She loved having Eri around, but it was always bittersweet when she left for the day, like a little piece of happiness walked out with her.

With Eri now off to school, Y/n returned to the workshop, gathering her focus for the day ahead. She took a moment to mentally prepare herself for the upcoming meeting with Bakugo. It was only a few hours away, but she was ready. There was a quiet sense of satisfaction that came with seeing his prototype work so well the day before, and now it was time to fine-tune things.

She double-checked her tools, made sure the prototype gauntlets were in good condition, and organized the materials she would need to adjust the interior pressure system. She also took a few moments to tidy up the workspace—while Y/n was normally meticulous about cleanliness, the chaos that was her work sometimes bled into her space. Today, she wanted everything to be just right. The energy she’d had the day before had stayed with her as she worked, and it felt like the right moment to move forward.

As she adjusted a few parts on her workbench, she found herself lost in her thoughts. The previous day with Bakugo had gone better than expected. He was still prickly, still the same explosive person she’d heard about from Izuku, but his reaction to the prototype—his feedback—made her feel like they were building a connection. Not a personal one, but a professional one, and that was enough for now.

She was starting to see the bigger picture: her designs could impact heroes like him. And if everything went as planned, this was just the beginning of a long-term working relationship.

The doorbell jingled, and Y/n snapped out of her thoughts. She glanced toward the door, a moment of anticipation building in her chest. Bakugo was here.

She walked over to the door to greet him, the sound of his boots clicking on the floor growing louder as he stepped inside. He looked just as intense as he did the day before, but this time there was a calmness in his demeanor that Y/n noticed immediately. The gauntlets from the previous day were now strapped to his wrists, and he was clearly ready to see how the prototype held up in a more demanding test.

Y/n smiled, but it was a more neutral smile this time—professional, not personal. "Morning, Bakugo. Ready to test the adjustments?"

He didn’t answer right away, but his eyes scanned the workshop briefly. She saw him make a mental note of the setup, maybe trying to figure out if she had done anything else to impress him.

“Let’s get to it,” Bakugo muttered, sounding a little less gruff than usual but still direct.

Y/n nodded, gesturing to the workbench where the adjustments to the gauntlets were laid out, ready for testing. "I made some minor tweaks to the interior pressure system, like we discussed. Try them on and see how they feel."

Bakugo grunted in acknowledgment as he moved toward the bench, looking over the gauntlets with a critical eye. His fingers skimmed over the components, clearly assessing them.

"Don’t overdo it,” Y/n warned, noticing his intense scrutiny of the design. “Take it slow at first, just let me know if anything feels off.”

Bakugo huffed but didn’t argue, slipping the gauntlets back on. Y/n moved a few steps back, watching closely as he tested the movements. His first action was a simple flex of his fingers—just like the day before—but this time, Y/n could see the difference. He was more attuned to the gear, more aware of the way it responded to his quirk.

He extended his arms, testing the weight distribution. His posture was strong, his body coiled with the kind of power that came naturally to someone like him. Y/n watched for signs of discomfort—anything that could signal a flaw in the design.

"So?" she asked, her voice a little quieter now, as she waited for his verdict.

Bakugo remained silent for a moment, lost in the rhythm of his own testing. Finally, he looked up from his hands, locking eyes with Y/n.

“It’s better,” he said simply. “More flexible. I can work with this.”

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of relief and quiet satisfaction wash over her. “Good. There are still a couple of minor adjustments to make, but this is a solid base to build on.”

Bakugo grunted, as if admitting something he didn’t quite want to, then turned to walk out.

“Let me know when you’re ready to finalize it,” he muttered over his shoulder before the door closed behind him with a loud jingle.

Y/n stood there for a moment, her heart racing with excitement. This wasn’t just a success; it was the beginning of something.

---

December 5th,

For three days, Y/n threw herself into Bakugo’s gauntlets with a level of focus that was both intense and consuming. The clock seemed irrelevant. Hours bled together as she carefully assembled, welded, and tested each individual part. The gauntlets weren’t just about performance; they were about precision, efficiency, and fitting Bakugo’s chaotic, explosive style of combat. She hadn’t even noticed how much time passed between bathroom breaks and the occasional text from neighbors or Izuku.

She had gotten used to working long hours, skipping meals, and letting her body run on caffeine and the occasional snack that she barely tasted. Her stomach had long since become accustomed to hunger pangs, a dull throb in the background of her mind as she focused on the minute details of the gauntlets. Every screw, every part, every piece of the technology she worked on had to be perfect. Not for her own benefit, but because Bakugo deserved it, whether he realized it or not. She couldn't afford to make mistakes with someone like him.

Her shop was a chaotic but well-organized mess. Tools were scattered across the floor, some forgotten and others deliberately placed for quick access. The only light came from the overhead bulbs, which cast long, harsh shadows on the walls as the night passed. The low hum of the machines was the only sound she heard as she moved, her hands shaking slightly with exhaustion.

She had taken the occasional break to step outside, her breath fogging up in the winter air, and to receive a text or two from Izuku—always checking in, always asking if she was okay. She hadn’t wanted to admit to him how far she’d gone without eating. But Izuku was kind and persistent, and sometimes his texts felt like a lifeline amidst the whirlpool of her work.

The gauntlets were finally coming together, but Y/n couldn’t help but feel both proud and incredibly drained. Her body screamed for rest, and yet, she couldn’t stop. Not yet.

...

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the gauntlets were done. She stepped back, wiping grease and oil from her face with the back of her hand, inspecting the finished product. The sleek black and orange design gleamed under the light, the inner mechanisms already adjusted for Bakugo's quirk. The gauntlets had a custom-made feedback system built into them, amplifying the force of his explosions but distributing the recoil so it wouldn’t damage his limbs.

Y/n’s eyes were blurry from lack of sleep, but her heart swelled with a quiet pride. These gauntlets weren’t just equipment; they were an extension of Bakugo’s fury and power, honed down to a level of sophistication she didn’t think anyone else could pull off. She couldn’t help but think—Bakugo was going to love these. She wasn't just assuming he would, she knew it. She had seen his face after reading her blueprint, then when he walked out with the prototype.

But even as she stood in awe of her work, she realized how long it had been since she had properly cared for herself. The lingering hunger in her stomach was becoming unbearable, and a deep fatigue was pulling at her bones. Her body was starting to remind her that she couldn’t keep going like this.

The moment she finished the gauntlets, she knew she needed a break. She couldn’t push her body any further. A long, hot shower was the only thing she craved at that moment.

She stood under the showerhead, feeling the warm water cascade over her tired skin. The hot steam fogged up the bathroom mirror as she leaned against the tiles, letting the heat melt away the tension in her muscles. Her hands moved lazily through her hair, rinsing out the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past three days of working nonstop.

The water felt like a balm to her soul, the soft spray soothing the aches in her back, her shoulders, and her legs. She stayed there for what felt like hours, the steam making her skin feel alive again. Each drop of water felt like it was washing away not just the grime but also the mental exhaustion that had been building in her mind.

Her thoughts began to wander as she relaxed, the weight of her work melting away. She thought about Bakugo—how he would react to the gauntlets, how she would handle seeing him again. It had been a professional interaction so far, but something about him kept nagging at her mind. He was abrasive, yes, but there was a part of him she couldn’t quite decipher, something raw and genuine underneath his rough exterior.

She let out a sigh as the water beat against her body. Maybe it was because she hadn’t had a proper break, but her mind was running wild. She forced herself to focus, thinking about how she still had a few adjustments to make. There would always be adjustments, but for now, the gauntlets were perfect.

Eventually, after a long time, she turned off the shower, reluctantly leaving the hot water behind. As the steam dissipated, she wrapped herself in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom, feeling like a new person. But that feeling wouldn’t last long. There was still more work to be done.

Just as she was starting to dry off, her phone rang, and she saw that it was Izuku. She quickly grabbed a robe and wrapped it around herself as she picked up the call.

“Hey, Izuku,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. She wasn’t sure if it was from fatigue or something else.

“Hey, Y/n,” Izuku greeted warmly. “How’s the gauntlet coming along? Bakugo’s been really eager to see them.”

“I just finished them,” she replied, a little out of breath. “They’re ready for testing. I’ll be sending him the details later.”

“Wow, that’s great! He’s been waiting for them, but you know how he is,” Izuku said, chuckling. “He’s probably pacing back and forth, eager to get his hands on them.”

You pictured a little troll with Bakugo's face on it, grimy little hands scratching his goofy head pacing back and forth and just scowling at the air.

Y/n smiled, even though Izuku couldn’t see her. “I’m sure. I’ll call him when I’m ready for him to test them out.”

“So… how’s everything else?” Izuku asked, voice lowering a little. “You’re taking care of yourself, right? I know you can get carried away with your work.”

She chuckled softly. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“Good, good,” Izuku said, but she could hear the concern in his voice. “By the way, there’s another hero who’s been looking to get in touch with you. They were impressed by your work, and I think they might be a good fit for your skillset.”

Y/n’s curiosity piqued. “Who’s that?”

Izuku paused for a second before answering, “His name’s Sir Nighteye Junior. He’s got some big projects in the works, and he’s been reaching out to top gear designers. He’s heard about your work with Bakugo and some of the other heroes.”

(LISTEN I FORGOT HE DIED YEARS AGO BUT I ALREADY WROTE HIM INTO THE STORY. PRETEND ITS LIKE SIR NIGHTEYE JR, JUST COPYING SIR NIGHT EYE'S NAME PLS)

Y/n’s brow furrowed at the mention of Nighteye. “That’s... interesting. I’ll need to think about it.”

Izuku chuckled again. “Yeah, I know. I just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

As Y/n hung up the phone, she let the information settle in her mind. Sir Nighteye Junior, huh? It was a big opportunity, but it also felt like a lot of pressure. She wasn’t used to being sought after by heroes, not at this level. But she had no time to think about it right now. Bakugo’s gauntlets were her priority, and she was determined to get them just right.

The work was never-ending, but for Y/n, that was exactly how she liked it. There was always something more to learn, something more to create. The next challenge had already arrived, and she was ready to face it head-on.

She just hoped she’d have a moment to catch her breath before diving into it.

It had been a long, demanding few days for Y/n, and just as she thought she might get a break, the lingering thought of Sir Nighteye Junior's request gnawed at her mind. She had almost sent the message to Bakugo to inform him that his gauntlets were ready for pickup, but instead, she found herself staring at her phone screen, wondering if she should give this new opportunity any serious thought. Was she ready to juggle multiple high-profile projects? Her mind was buzzing with the pressure, but she knew she couldn’t put this off any longer. Sir Nighteye Junior was one of the richest heroes in Japan, after inheriting the original Sir Nighteye's inheritance. But Bakugo was a different story...

So, with a long sigh, she sent Bakugo the text: “Your gauntlets are ready for pickup. Let me know when you can stop by to grab them.”

She tried to relax, but her thoughts kept returning to Nighteye. Could she handle him as a client? What kind of demands would he make? She had met this guy before, and he was a complete ass. She buried her phone in her pocket and leaned back in her chair, but just as she did, she heard the chime of her front door.

Bakugo stood in the doorway, a familiar and yet unsettling presence. His eyes narrowed at the sight of her as he stepped inside, his usual cocky confidence on full display. But something about his demeanor was different—there was less of that harsh energy. Perhaps it was the fact that his gauntlets were finally finished, or maybe something else. She had just sent him that text a few seconds ago? Weird, he was probably on patrol nearby. What a weird little angry troll.

Y/n gestured toward the counter where the gauntlets rested, a sleek black-and-orange masterpiece of engineering. "They're ready," she said, standing up and walking over to them. “I made a few adjustments based on what you mentioned before.”

Bakugo walked toward the counter, his gaze quickly scanning over the gauntlets, his sharp eyes catching every small detail. He was quiet, examining them closely. Y/n couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t immediately make a snide remark or scoff. Instead, he paused for a moment, his fingers brushing over the design with a surprising amount of care.

"Yeah, this looks solid," Bakugo muttered. "Better than what I was expecting." His voice was low, but there was a hint of something—maybe respect, maybe admiration—hidden behind his usual gruff tone.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, unsure if she heard that correctly. "You actually like it?"

Bakugo scowled but didn’t seem to find any fault with her work. "I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t. You’re not completely useless when it comes to making gear."

Y/n’s lips twitched. It wasn’t the most glowing compliment, but coming from him, it meant more than anything overly effusive. Still, she didn’t want to get too comfortable. "I’m glad it’s up to your standards," she replied, trying to keep the conversation professional. "I made sure to adjust the inner feedback system, and the recoil dampeners should keep your arms in one piece after the big hits."

Bakugo grunted, picking up one of the gauntlets and flexing his fingers inside it. "It feels good," he admitted, still inspecting the mechanics. "Could’ve been a bit tighter around the wrist, though."

Y/n immediately noted the adjustment in her mind, feeling the urge to tweak it, but before she could say anything, Bakugo handed her the gauntlet, his eyes still on the design. “Not bad. You made these quick, I’ll give you that.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was that... a compliment? She nodded, acknowledging it. “Thanks, I did my best to get them just right.”

Bakugo was silent for a moment, then his voice shifted, this time a little less guarded. “You’re not so bad at this... I might’ve underestimated you.”

Y/n blinked in surprise, but before she could respond, Bakugo’s expression hardened again. “But if it’s not right when I test it, we’ll have a problem.”

Y/n chuckled to herself, hiding the small smile threatening to form on her face. "Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it."

But as soon as Bakugo left, her relief didn’t last long. The request from Nighteye had been lingering at the back of her mind. She felt the pressure mounting—could she really handle another demanding hero? Her phone buzzed again, and this time it was from Izuku.

Izuku: “Hey, I know you’re busy, but you need to take a break. You’ve been at this nonstop. Don’t forget to eat, alright? Please let me know if you need anything.”

'Damn how'd he know? Is he sending Bakugo over to spy on me?'

Y/n’s fingers hovered over the keys for a moment. She didn’t want to worry Izuku, but she knew she couldn’t keep up this pace forever. Still, it was hard to turn down the opportunities coming her way. She took a deep breath, putting the phone down as she forced herself to focus.

But just as she was about to start on those final tweaks, the doorbell chimed once more. She opened the door to see Bakugo standing there, a determined look on his face. He didn’t even wait for her to speak before he stormed in. Why was he back?

“Yo,” Bakugo said, glaring at her. “You’re still gonna be working on those, right?”

Y/n looked at him, confused. “What? I thought you were satisfied with the fit.”

Bakugo crossed his arms, clearly agitated. “I’m not talking about the fit,” he growled. “I’m talking about the fact that you look like you’re about to drop dead. Don’t even think about finishing anything else for anyone else until you get some rest.”

Y/n was taken aback. She opened her mouth to protest, but Bakugo held up a hand. “I’m serious. I don’t want my shit messed up ‘cause you’re running on fumes.”

Y/n felt a flicker of irritation. “I can handle it,” she snapped, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

Bakugo shot her a glare. “No, you can’t. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

She opened her mouth again to argue, but Bakugo was already marching out the door. “I’ll deal with the other hero. Take care of yourself. You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead on your feet.”

Oh, so Izuku Midoriya was a snitch. He could never shut up, but seriously? Snitching on me to one of my clients, low blow mido.

Y/n watched as he disappeared, leaving her standing there with the quiet hum of her shop filling the space. The gauntlets, now finished, were still sitting on the counter. They were perfect. And yet, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude toward Bakugo, despite his harshness.

She pulled out her phone and texted him, telling him to come pick them up tommrow when his check towards her came in and she finished tightening it around the wrists.

She sat down, staring at the phone that still buzzed with messages from Izuku, and now from Nighteye, and from the other hero she was starting to work with. There was a lot to juggle, but for once, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep it all together.

After Bakugo left, Y/n found herself alone in the quiet shop, the only sound being the faint hum of the overhead lights. Her phone buzzed incessantly, but she ignored it, the texts from Izuku, Nighteye, and even her neighbors a distant reminder of everything she was neglecting. She was already too far into the work, too close to finishing something that had been consuming her thoughts for days. The gauntlets were on the counter, and her hands instinctively reached for them again, drawn by the quiet need to make just one more adjustment.

She didn’t even realize how long she had been standing there, focused solely on tightening the area around the wrists of the gauntlets. The pressure on her mind was mounting, but the satisfaction of the work kept her focused, the details of the design unfolding in her mind as she worked. A small click of the wrench and a few more measurements brought the fit closer to perfection, but it wasn’t enough. She had to make sure the adjustment was precise, that the fit would be perfect for Bakugo’s gauntlets—anything less than flawless would be unacceptable.

She didn’t notice the hours slipping by. The light from the window faded, leaving the shop bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lamps, casting long shadows across the workshop floor. It wasn’t until the silence felt too heavy, too oppressive, that she took a deep breath and pulled her hands away from the work.

Y/n glanced at the clock on the wall—9:45 p.m. Her stomach growled loudly, a sharp reminder of how long it had been since she had last eaten. She blinked, momentarily dazed, and ran a hand through her hair. She hadn’t realized how far she’d pushed herself until now. The last few days had blurred together in a haze of blueprints, soldering, and testing. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning.

Her phone was still buzzing on the counter, but she didn’t have the energy to check it. She felt lightheaded from exhaustion, and her body was begging for a break. Still, she had to finish. The gauntlets weren’t quite there yet.

With a soft sigh, Y/n gave up on the idea of further adjustments for the night. She gathered the gauntlets and placed them gently on the table, her mind already preoccupied with how she’d continue tomorrow. She needed to rest, but a quick glance at the clock reminded her of just how little time she had. The pressure was mounting again—she still had to finish the adjustments and complete the other projects waiting for her.

But for now, the call of the bed was stronger.

Yawning, Y/n made her way upstairs, her legs heavy and unsteady. Her mind was already spinning with thoughts of work again, but it didn’t matter. She barely registered the soft light in the hallway as she shuffled toward her room.

Once in bed, her body didn’t hesitate—she collapsed into the sheets, the exhaustion finally catching up with her. Sleep hit her hard, and she was out within minutes, her phone still buzzing unanswered on the kitchen counter.

Outside, the night continued on, but inside Y/n's world was silent, save for the hum of her mind still whirring with the weight of everything she had yet to do.

---

Bakugo shoved his hands into his pockets as he stepped out of Y/n’s workshop, his mind still running through the adjustments she had made on his gauntlets. The way she worked, her attention to every detail—it had impressed him. But he wasn’t about to admit that. Not yet, anyway. He growled under his breath as he walked down the street, the evening chill nipping at his face. He’d barely slept the past few days, and even now he could feel the weight of the new gauntlets on his shoulders, his thoughts still tangled with the adjustments.

It was quiet, but it was that kind of quiet that felt oppressive, like everything was waiting for something. Something big. The hum of the city buzzed around him, but it barely reached his ears. His mind was still on Y/n and her workshop, the way she had talked about the process, her focus. It was a far cry from the way most people worked. He couldn't deny it—there was something about her approach that made him feel like his gauntlets might finally be exactly what he needed.

But that wasn’t his problem. Not now. He had a different problem. The problem of his life outside of work, the life he couldn't ignore when he wasn’t buried in prototypes and design specs.

The low rumble of a motorcycle engine broke his thoughts as he walked past the familiar corner bar. Kirishima, Mina, and Midoriya were already there, waiting for him. He didn’t care much for the whole "drinks with friends" thing—he wasn’t exactly the type to unwind with alcohol. But Kirishima insisted, and despite his usual gruffness, Bakugo didn’t mind the idea of letting off some steam after the past few days of stress.

He opened the door to the bar, the familiar smell of beer and grilled food wafting through the air. Mina waved excitedly from the back booth, her bright pink hair bouncing as she jumped to greet him. Midoriya looked up from his phone, and Kirishima flashed his usual goofy grin.

“Yo, Bakugo!” Kirishima called, giving him a nod. “You look like you’re about to blow up something—what’s up, man?"

Bakugo grunted, sitting down across from them. “Nothing. Just got done with some bullshit.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on his tone. “You’re not in the best mood, huh?”

Bakugo slouched into the seat, still feeling the irritation building in his chest, even though the gauntlets were coming along well. “I’m fine,” he snapped, but there was something in his voice that gave it away. Kirishima didn’t press it, but Midoriya, who had a knack for reading people, glanced over at him.

“Y/n?” Midoriya asked softly, as if testing the waters.

Bakugo tensed, but he gave a short nod. “Yeah. She’s good. The gauntlets are... fine. Better than fine, actually. She knows her shit.”

There was a brief pause before Kirishima laughed. “I told you she was awesome, dude. You were all stubborn about it, but now I’m hearing some praise!”

“I’m not praising her,” Bakugo shot back quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended. “I’m just saying... they’re good. I don’t have time for anything else. I don’t want her to screw it up with my gear.”

Mina smirked, glancing at Kirishima. “Sounds like someone’s got a soft spot for his gear designer.”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his fingers twitching toward his drink. “Shut the hell up, Ashido,” he growled, but there was a flicker of something—maybe respect, maybe something else—in his eyes.

Midoriya cleared his throat, always the peacemaker. “So... you’re gonna get the final version of the gauntlets tomorrow, huh?”

Bakugo nodded. “Yeah. She said it’ll be ready by tomorrow afternoon. I’m going to test them, make sure there aren’t any problems. If she really knows what she’s doing, they’ll be ready for the field. And if not, I’ll make her fix it.”

Kirishima raised his glass. “To Y/n then, the genius behind Bakugo’s new gear!”

Bakugo scowled at him, but there was no denying the appreciation in his voice when he spoke again. “I’m serious though. If she makes a mistake, I’ll make her fix it. I’m not going back to that useless shit Hatsume made for me.”

Kirishima’s expression softened. “She’s got your back, man. You’ll see.”

Bakugo didn’t answer. Instead, he took a long drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol hit him faster than usual. His thoughts drifted back to Y/n, to the way she had worked on the gauntlets with that quiet focus. He didn’t know what it was about her, but she didn’t seem like the typical designer. She didn’t treat him like some pro hero—she treated him like another job, another challenge.

And for the first time in a long while, it felt like someone was actually getting his gear right.

While Bakugo sat with his friends, the conversation continued around him. But in his head, Y/n’s workshop, her blueprint, and the gauntlets she had crafted were all he could think about. He was still the same Bakugo—the one who didn't trust anyone easily. But this time, maybe... just maybe, his stubborn pride could make room for a bit of respect.

Bakugo’s mind raced with thoughts of the gauntlets, but it wasn’t just the work that was nagging at him now. Y/n had been pushing herself too hard. The stress was practically seeping out of her—he could see it in the way she was working nonstop, barely taking breaks. He'd noticed the way she rubbed her eyes, the slight tremor in her hands, the exhaustion that barely even seemed to phase her. It bothered him more than he'd care to admit, but he wasn’t one to show concern directly. Instead, his instincts kicked in. He wasn't going to let her screw this up because some asshole hero was rushing her to get things done.

It was mid-afternoon when he made up his mind. Bakugo had already done his part by making sure the design was spot on. The rest was up to her. But this new request from Sir Nighteye Junior—a high-profile hero known for his demanding nature—had put undue pressure on Y/n. She didn’t need that kind of stress, not now. She wasn’t some machine that could be pushed past her limits without consequences. Bakugo wasn't going to let some rich hero screw things up, especially when it was about his gear.

He couldn’t believe it—Sir Nighteye Junior had the audacity to demand Y/n prioritize his request over everything else. Bakugo clenched his jaw, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edges of his jacket. No one was going to mess with his gauntlets, and definitely no one was going to force Y/n into making mistakes because they couldn't be patient.

Kirishima had told him about the meeting with Sir Nighteye Junior the other day. The hero was practically hounding Y/n for her attention, and he couldn’t stand the thought of some entitled rich kid rushing her work. Bakugo wasn’t a hero for nothing. He was going to set things straight.

Bakugo didn’t waste any time. He left his friends sitting at the bar with one goal in mind. He’d heard where Sir Nighteye Junior had been staying, a lavish penthouse near the edge of the city, and he wasn’t in the mood for playing games. He was sick of heroes like him flaunting their status, using their influence to get what they wanted, especially when it came to Y/n. She’d worked too hard to be pushed around.

He stormed through the front doors of the building, ignoring the receptionist’s attempts to stop him. He was Bakugo Katsuki, and he didn’t have time for pleasantries. The elevator ride up to the penthouse felt too long, the tension in the air almost unbearable. His eyes were sharp, burning with a quiet rage.

When the elevator doors finally opened, Bakugo marched straight toward the door of Sir Nighteye Junior’s suite. He didn’t knock. He didn’t need to. He kicked the door open with force, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoing in the empty space.

Inside, Sir Nighteye Junior was sitting behind an elegant mahogany desk, looking up in surprise as Bakugo stepped in, his expression a perfect mask of annoyance and anger.

“Bakugo Katsuki. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Sir Nighteye Junior asked, his voice smooth, but the surprise was still evident in his eyes.

“I’m here to make one thing clear,” Bakugo said, his voice low and dangerous. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to stop pressuring Y/n. Right now.”

Sir Nighteye Junior’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think you understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Bakugo snapped, cutting him off. “Y/n doesn’t need your deadlines. She doesn’t need you breathing down her neck about your gear requests. She’s been doing this for years, and she’s been doing it damn well. You’re not going to screw that up with your demands. You’ll wait, and you’ll like it.”

There was a tense silence as Sir Nighteye Junior processed his words. Bakugo didn’t move. He wasn’t going anywhere until this was settled. He wasn’t about to let anyone ruin the work Y/n had been doing, not with the pressure she was under. It wasn’t just about her skill—it was about the fact that she had no time to waste on people who didn’t respect her process.

“I don’t take kindly to threats,” Sir Nighteye Junior said, his voice colder now. He stood up from his desk, pushing his chair back with a faint creak. “You think you can just come here and demand I halt my requests because of some woman’s workload?”

Bakugo’s eyes hardened. “I’m not asking you to halt your request,” he said, his voice even colder than before. “I’m telling you, you’re going to wait. And if you think I’m bluffing, try me.”

The tension in the room was palpable. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the silence almost suffocating. Sir Nighteye Junior stared at Bakugo, a mixture of disbelief and frustration crossing his face. But Bakugo didn’t care. He had no intention of backing down.

Finally, Sir Nighteye Junior spoke again, his voice low. “Fine. I’ll give her some breathing room. But don’t think this means I won’t be expecting results. I’m not one to sit idly by.”

Bakugo didn’t respond immediately, his gaze unyielding. “Good. Now, don’t forget what I just said.”

With that, Bakugo turned and stormed out of the office, the door slamming behind him with a satisfying thud. He took a deep breath, his hands still clenched tightly at his sides.

As he made his way back to his apartment, Bakugo’s thoughts shifted back to Y/n. He hadn’t done this for her approval, not in the way most people would expect. He wasn’t trying to be a good guy. But she deserved respect. She deserved the space to do her work, and he’d be damned if anyone tried to interfere with that.

When he finally got back to his apartment, he slumped down onto the couch. He didn’t feel satisfied, but there was a strange sense of relief that washed over him. Maybe it wasn’t about the gear after all. Maybe it was more about making sure Y/n had the space to do her thing without being harassed.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone, thumb hovering over Y/n’s contact. Should he text her? Probably not. But then again, she needed to know. He didn’t care about being nice. But maybe—just maybe—she’d appreciate the fact that he had her back.

He sent the text.

"I dealt with that scrawny Nighteye Junior kid, he's off your shoulders. So make sure you rest so my gauntlets will turn out perfect. Got it?"

Bakugo’s face contorted in disgust as he recalled the stench of the penthouse. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sex, a sharp, off-putting reminder of the kind of people Sir Nighteye Junior kept company with. It wasn’t a place Bakugo was used to. He was used to being around real heroes, people who cared about their work, their craft, and their integrity—not some spoiled, entitled rich kid who thought he could buy respect.

The two women who had been lounging on the couch, barely clothed and obviously unbothered by the presence of a professional hero, only added to the vile atmosphere. They had barely even acknowledged Bakugo’s entrance, too busy sipping on glasses of wine and giggling like they hadn’t a care in the world. It sickened him, the lack of respect, the blatant disregard for what was important. It wasn’t his place to judge, but it still made him feel like the air was dirtier than it should’ve been.

But he had a job to do, and that wasn’t going to be swayed by the trashy atmosphere he’d had to endure for the past half-hour. He was there for one thing and one thing only: Y/n’s work. It was what mattered, not the indulgences of people like Sir Nighteye Junior.

Shaking off the memory, Bakugo sat down on the couch in his apartment, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. He’d sent the text to Y/n, but now he was waiting for her response. Part of him felt weird about it—he wasn’t the kind of person who just casually texted someone after something like this. But this was different. He knew he had to check in on the gauntlets; she deserved to have everything perfect.

There was a rare sense of calm now that the situation with Sir Nighteye Junior was resolved. He’d made sure Y/n wouldn’t be pressured anymore. He’d gone out of his way, despite his usual attitude, because she deserved it. Her work mattered too much for someone to throw around their power like that.

Now, as he waited for the message to come through, he couldn’t help but think about the gauntlets. They were perfect, weren’t they? He had been impressed with the prototype, and after seeing her dedication, after seeing her work with such precision, he knew she was the right person for the job. No more interruptions. No more stress. He couldn’t wait to see how it all came together, and now that the pressure from Sir Nighteye Junior was off her shoulders, Bakugo was certain she could finish them without any distractions.

As he stared at his phone, the buzzing vibration broke his concentration. The message from Y/n was there, and he quickly unlocked the screen, his eyes scanning it.

"Yup i got it, btw gauntlets are ready for testing," she had written. "Let me know when you can come by, and we’ll get started."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of Bakugo’s lips. Perfect. It was exactly what he had been waiting for.

---

#bnha #mha #katsuki x reader #mha katsuki bakugo #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo x you #bakugo x female reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou

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unhingedangstaddict · 2 months ago

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Currently working on my own fix-it fic but man this shit is harder than I thought it'd be- I keep crying and then getting distracted reading other fix-it fics. Thought I'd share this snippet to hopefully motivate myself to keep going???

Hen was starting to wonder if maybe Tommy was out for a run when she heard a faint ‘oh shit’ from inside the house. She banged on the door again. “Come on Kinard! I know you’re in there!” She called out. If Tommy’s neighbors thought she was crazy, oh well, too bad. Hen really didn’t care.

Finally the door was opened by Tommy. His hair was a mess- sticking up as though he’d been running his hands through it far too much-, he had deep dark bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, his eyes were puffy from crying, and frankly, he looked like shit. “What do you want, Hen?” Tommy rasped. Whether his voice was hoarse due to dehydration or yelling and/or crying was unclear.

“To talk about what happened last night.” Hen crossed her arms.

“You mean you’re here to yell at me for what I did?" Tommy guessed. He hadn't forgotten the thinly veiled shovel talk from Hen and Karen months back at the medal ceremony- he wasn't surprised Hen was here now. “Trust me I hate myself for it enough. There’s nothing you can say that I haven’t already thought about myself.”

“No. I’m here to try and understand what even happened. According to Eddie, Buck wasn’t making very much sense last night. Eddie would’ve come himself to check on you but he’s got Buck right now. Eddie’s worried about you and frankly, I am too.”

Tommy sighed deeply and stepped aside to let Hen into the house.

Soon they were sitting at Tommy’s kitchen table with mugs of coffee in hand.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened or are you just gonna keep having that staring contest with your coffee?” Hen questioned.

“He asked me to move in with him.” Tommy admitted quietly.

“Okay,” Hen said slowly, waiting for Tommy to explain further why he was upset by it. Beyond the obvious matter of Buck leasing his loft apartment and Tommy owning his house, Hen wasn’t sure what the issue was.

“For a split second, I thought about saying yes.” Tommy confessed. “Then I returned to reality and realized I had to end it.”

“But why?” Hen questioned.

“Even if it was only for a second, Hen, I was ready to, what? Sell my house and more than half my stuff to move in with him? I’m not even mad about that part- I’m upset with myself for considering it. I’ve been in Evan’s position before, first gay relationship, lovesick, you think it’s gonna last forever. And I’ve been the first for guys before too. Like I told Evan last night, I know how it ends. And I guess I’d rather break my own heart than wait around for Evan to do it.”

“If you’ve been so sure all this time that it could never work, why did it take until now for you to call things off?” Hen questioned.

“I think from the start I knew I was playing with fire. After the last guy I was a first for, I told myself I wasn’t going to do it anymore. Then I met Evan, and he was just so magnetic, I couldn’t stay away even if I wanted to. I couldn't say no to him. I think I always knew my heart would get broken, and I guess I was okay with that all this time, until last night when I realized I love him, and I knew I had to cut myself off before I reached a point of no return.” Tommy explained. “I mean, I’m a fucking a mess right now and I was the one who called it off. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to survive him ending it.”

“Did you really just figure out last night that you love him?” Hen asked.

“I guess I sorta loved him from the start but last night was different, Hen. I’m in love with him, like well and truly love him, in a way I’ve never felt before, about anyone.” Tears filled Tommy’s eyes. “And I’m just his first. And as badly as I want it, I know I don’t get to be his last.”

“What makes you so sure you can’t be his last?” Hen wondered.

“Because I’m not the forever guy." Tommy shrugged slightly as a tear finally escaped and slid down his cheek. "At best I’m the close-to-but-never-quite-enough guy."

#bucktommy #tevan #fix it fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #hen wilson #s8e6 fix it #wip

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devildomwriter · 1 year ago

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At The Dance vol 2

Diavolo: “Well then, I suppose there’s only one part of the school festival at this point, right? So, who did you decide to go to the dance with, MC?”

Lucifer

Lucifer: “MC… Hello. I hope you haven’t been waiting long. Come on, let’s get going.”

At the dance

Lucifer: “Everyone’s looking at us. I suppose it’s not surprising. After all, I’ve never danced with anyone at one of these events before. You’re the first. …Do you remember that one lime I said to you during the play? In case you’ve forgotten, it went like this… ”MC, I love you.” Well, we may not be on stage now, but I’m happy to say it again. As many times as you’d like. I love you, MC. Truly and deeply…”

Mammon

Mammon: “Yo, MC! I’m here! So, Whaddya say we get goin’!”

At the dance

Mammon: “Is it just me, or were you gettin’ AWFULLY close to Lucifer during the play? I mean, you two didn’t get that close during rehearsal, did ya? …To be honest, it made me jealous. Like, don’t you get it, MC? You’re mine, okay?! Mine! So don’t go gettin’ all up close and personal with other guys! …Hey, after the dance, how about you come to my room?”

Leviathan

Leviathan: “Listen, are you sure you want to go with me? You aren’t regretting your choice, are you?! Well, either way, it’s too late to change your mind! You’re going with me to the dance, got it?”

At the dance

Leviathan: “Listen, MC… I want to thank you. It really made me happy when you stayed up all night with me working on that costume. I’m glad that we at least managed to get your costume done in time. You looked amazing in it. …! Ahh, sorry! I stepped on your foot again… I never thought I’d find myself on a dance floor, you know? It’s such a normie thing to do, and I’m no normie…But I promise to practice and get better…for you. So let’s do this again!”

Satan

Satan: “Have you been waiting on me, MC? Let’s get going. The dance is starting soon.”

At the dance

Satan: “I guess you managed to get all of us brothers to put aside our differences and make up… I know you’re good. But even so, this time I thought that you’d probably bitten off more than you could chew. But I was wrong. I guess that maybe when it comes down to it, you’ve got us all in the palm of your hand. …Even so, none of my other brothers get to dance with you tonight, do they? Just me. Which means you view me differently from them, don’t you? I’m special to you. It’s true, isn’t it? Tell me it’s true, MC…”

Asmodeus

Asmodeus: “Hehe… I see that you look adorable as usual, MC. I could almost eat you up! Well, shall we get going? We do want to miss our chance to show off in front of everyone!”

At the dance

Asmodeus: “So, what did you think of my performance, hm? Perfect, wasn’t it? I don’t need to try to be attractive… I just am! Still, I spend a lot of time thinking about which angels I’m best viewed from, so I look even more stunning. It’s a skill that translates well to the stage. Hehe. I bet seeing me in that play made you fall for me even harder, didn’t it? Well, you were amazing our there yourself, you know? So amazing that I almost forgot we were in the middle of a play. I wanted to take you in my arms and make you mine right then and there. To be honest, I’d like to do that right now. What do you say…interested? Because I’m free after this…”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub: “MC, have you been waiting on me? Mm, here’s hoping that there’s lots of good food at the dance…”

At the dance

Beelzebub: “You sure do work up an appetite performing in a play, huh… I thought that maybe I’d be so nervous that I wouldn’t realize I was hungry, but nope. You didn’t hear how my stomach was growling during the performance, did you? To be honest, I’d like to head over to the buffet right now… What do you say the two of us sneak over there after this song ends? Then we can eat and eat and eat to our heart’s content…together!”

Belphegor

Belphegor: “Hey MC, I’m here. Are you ready to go? Here, you can take my arm.”

At the dance

Belphegor: *sigh*… “I’ve got to say, I feel exhausted. But now that the play’s over, we don’t have to rehearse anymore. No more dealing with Simeon the drill sergeant. You must be pretty worn out yourself, right? Hey, is it okay if I sleep in your bed tonight? I’ll be nice… I’ll gently stroke your head until you drift to sleep. Oh, but…sorry in advance if I end up falling asleep before you do.”

Solomon

Solomon: “Wait…you mean to say you don’t have a date to the dance? Well, I was planning on going alone, too. Why don’t we lonely singles go together?”

At the dance

Solomon: “Haha. You know, you’re a pretty good dancer, MC. You learn quickly. …Or maybe it’s that I’m a good teacher? This is a dance, after all. It’s no fun if we both just stand around like wallflowers, is it? So why stop now? When the next song starts, let’s just keep dancing.”

Multiple

Luke: *blushing* “Wha?! MC… Just how many demons did you promise to go to the dance with?”

Diavolo: “I take it you mean to take turns dancing with each of them?”

Solomon: “…Let’s just hope there isn’t any bloodshed as a result of this.”

At the dance

Satan: “So, MC… It seems that one date to the dance wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

Mammon: “Man, humans are one thing, but you’ve got a lotta nerve tryin’ to okay multiple DEMONS like this.”

Leviathan: “This is why I hate normies! Always getting ALL the attention…always having ALL the fun…”

Belphegor: “Wow, I never thought you were the type of master to do something like this…”

Asmodeus: “So, Just one of us wouldn’t cut it, hm? Well well, aren’t you greedy? Tsk, what are we going to do with you?”

Beelzebub: “Still, it’s not like I don’t understand the feeling. One serving is never enough for me at dinner. I always need seconds. And thirds. And fourths…”

Lucifer: “Well, you got yourself into this. Now you’re going to have to deal with the consequences. You’re dancing with everyone.”

Luke: *sigh*… “I knew it. You’re all about to fight over who gets to dance with MC first, aren’t you?”

Diavolo: “Too bad. And to think, they’d just made up…”

Luke: “MC, why not try that trick of yours? You know…where you look at them and go “STAY!””

Diavolo: …*sigh* “MC hasn’t even said anything yet, and already you all look terrified.”

Luke: “I guess it’s a conditioned response at this point. They do it by reflex.”

And so the fun continued into the night, and many more memories were made…

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lynzishell · 4 months ago

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The Past 💛 Atlas

We rush out the doors after throwing on our hoodies, and the frigid air hits my face like a thousand tiny needles. I shiver and look over at Ash, who is forcefully shoving his hands into his front pocket as he yells, “Holy shit, it’s cold!”

I laugh and take the opportunity to put an arm around his shoulders and keep him close as we start walking in the general direction of my apartment building. Thankfully, my head has cleared enough that I remember where we are and how to get home; though, we’re in for a longer walk than I initially predicted.

Once we’re passed the small groups of people chatting and smoking just outside, and start making our way through the relatively empty streets, I look over at him curiously, “So I have to ask, where the hell did you learn to dance like that?”

“Oh that?” he laughs, “D’you want the long version or short version?”

“Do any of your stories have short versions?”

“Sometimes.”

“Well, we have about a twenty-minute walk, and we need some kind of distraction from the cold, so long version it is.”

“Twenty minutes? I thought you said you live three blocks away.”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly,” I say, giving him a look.

“S’pose that’s my fault.”

“Alright, story time then!” He claps his hands together and cracks his knuckles as if he needs to physically prepare. Sometimes there’s nothing more fun than watching him tell a story.

“Okay, so when I was in high school,” he begins as we walk through increasingly dark streets, following the road under the overpass, toward the Spice District, “they had a program where you could take classes through the community college, and the credits would count toward graduation and your degree. If you took advantage of it, you could graduate high school with an associate degree. I wasn’t that motivated, but during senior year my friend and I took a breakdancing class. I was terrible at it, but it was fun, and it got me out of another year of P.E., so well worth it. Anyway, I got to know the instructor and found out he’d just opened a studio in San My to teach house dancing. It sounded fun, and I wanted to support him, so after graduation I signed up. Every Thursday night for three years, I’d come into the city to take the class. Eventually, I got okay at it.”

“I’d say you got more than okay at it. Why’d you stop?”

“Uh, well, I thought it would be pretty awkward to continue going to the guy's class after I dumped him,” he says with an exaggerated grimace, making me laugh.

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

“Nice to know I haven’t forgotten any of it though.”

“No, you looked great. It was hard not to just stand there and watch you the whole time.”

“Yeah? I was kinda hoping you’d come over and dance with me.”

“I thought about it. But then I saw you push a couple of people away, and I figured you wanted to be left alone.”

He stops then, and turns to look at me, “For the record, I wouldn’t have pushed you away.”

I smile a little and pull him closer to me, “No?”

He leans in, brushing his lips against mine as he says, “Uh-uh,” and then kisses me. His nose is cold against my face, but his mouth is warm and soft, and I feel myself melt right into him.

A few seconds later, he pulls back slightly, a playful glimmer in his eye, “Would you have been jealous,” he asks, “if I’d let someone else dance with me?”

I pause for a moment, thinking of how I want to answer that, and then decide, fuck it, why not just be honest, “Yeah, probably.”

“I thought so,” and kisses me again, “that’s why I didn’t.”

“Ah, I see. It was your plan the whole night to seduce me, wasn’t it?”

“Hey, let’s not forget, you’re the one who came on to me.”

“Only because you gave me that look.”

“What? You mean this look?” He looks down briefly, and when he looks back up at me, he has that same playful grin and something shifts in his eyes, his expression equally sexy and mischievous, daring me to do something. I’m powerless against it.

“That’s the one,” I say, my voice low and quiet as I lean in and part his lips with mine. I could stay here with him like this all night, and I would, but I feel him start to shiver as a fresh breeze of freezing air kicks up and bites at our cheeks, likely cutting through the too-thin material of his hoodie, so I stop and take his hand, “Come on, my building is just up ahead. Let’s get out of the cold.”

“Good idea.”

As we hurry down the street I ask, “So, how many hours did you spend practicing that look in the mirror?”

“An embarrassing amount."

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#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode

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fortunapre · 4 months ago

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𝐀/𝐍𖧞 this is the last part. I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW: “dont stop! your writing is god-tier!“ i heard you all chant in unison.

Dont fret little ones. 🖐️🙂‍↕️ Ive surely got some more ideas in the bank...If you haven’t, go check out my prompts list <3

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+ (entire fic rating), swearing, mention of alcohol, mention of intoxication, a little bit o’ mischief…not really but you’ll see ;)

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

Go back?? (Scene vi) Click Here!

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 Scene VII 𖧞 (𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞)

be honest im 𝒻ℯℯ��𝒿𝓃𝑔 yall

December 17th, the same night

We both walked into the room in silence.

The only noise was the shutting of the door and a barely audible “Santa Baby,” playing from the other room. Instead of looking at Oscar, I surveyed the room.

Unlike the front room, there were no Christmas decorations. It was a plain bedroom, a guy’s bedroom by the looks of it, with only a small desk and a bed. I tried to distract my gaze from the man in front of me, but the tension was growing too thick.

I reluctantly looked away from the uninteresting room and focused on him. He was no longer facing away from me- he was leaning back on the desk, hands gripping the desk on each side of his body. No matter how relaxed he seemed to be trying to look, I could see how rigid he really was.

He was looking at me, no smirk present. With how serious he looked, I thought to myself about how I kind of miss his ever-lasting grin.

He let out a deep sigh and moved to fold his arms, his body still leaning back against the desk.

I watched as he slightly turned one of his folded arms, looking at his wrist. I assume he was looking for his watch, but forgotten he’d given it up to the festive host earlier. He sighed again and looked away.

I only kept looking his way. I was blatantly staring, but what else was I supposed to do. I was hoping to get him to look at me.

My staring worked, as he probably felt my burning gaze. He looked up, brown eyes meeting mine.

“I’m guessing there’s still about six minutes left,” He finally broke the silence, and told me.

“Yeah…” I had no idea what to say. Did he want to get out of here? Or rather, did he want to get out of a locked room with only me? “..probably.” I added.

“This is stupid.” I heard Oscar mutter. I'm not sure if I meant to hear him, but I felt kind of sad at his words.

“7 minutes in heaven is always stupid. I’ve always tried to stay out of party games.” I told him, trying to save myself from feeling embarrassed. While we were sitting in a circle, and as I waited turn after turn, I dreaded when I’d be chosen. I dreaded being chosen, because I was secretly hoping the person to choose me was Oscar. And now that I’d gotten my wish, he didn’t even want me here.

He saw my reaction and acted quickly. “No, that’s not…” his words trailed off. I waited for him to finish his sentence, slightly confused. “Not the game,” he added. “That's not what I’m talking about.”

“What then? Being stuck with me?” I didn't mean to say what I was worrying about outloud, but I continued anyway “Trust me mate, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do.” I lied through my teeth. I definitely sounded defensive.

He scoffed and I saw him poke his tongue in his cheek. “Y’know what?” Oscar spoke and he sounded deeper and sharper. Apparently what I said riled him up. “Maybe If you’d let me speak, I’d tell you. Don’t start saying shit just to start something.”

I’d almost flinched at his tone and curse.

“Ok.” His anger only fueled mine. I unfolded my arms and put a hand on my hip, trying to look as unfazed as possible by his presence. “Enlighten me.”

“First of all, why would you think I wouldn’t want to be near you? Did me kissing you not once, but twice, not mean anything?” His voice was raising, but he didn’t look angry so to speak. I scrunched my eyebrows at his omission. “Don’t answer that. I don’t care, actually.” He suddenly added, catching me off guard.

It was my turn to scoff. God, and he accuses me of being an instigator. “Asshole! Of Course it meant something, it takes two to go as far as we did, you know.”

The argument held confession-notes in between the lines, but any affection or truth was smothered by our matching anger. Neither of us were understanding the words that came out of our mouths, and instead becoming more riled up by the yelling. Which, we were definitely yelling now.

“Don’t lie and try to make me feel better, Y/N. You were probably just filled with adrenaline.”

“Do. Not. Tell me how I feel. I know what I'm doing, I knew what I was doing just fine both times.”

“Really?” He had a monotone accusing tone, trying to find a lie. He seemed to be unimpressed with anything I said now.

“Yeah. Really.”

I hadn’t realized how fast my heart was beating now. I tried to slow my breathing and be the level-headed one because his head was definitely not thinking straight. Apparently he had nothing else to say, but neither had I. This argument was stupid and we both knew it.

We both stayed silent and slunk against something behind us, not daring to look at eachother.

Then, I heard him speak again and prepared an eye-roll.

“Now, what I was saying was…” Oscar started still not looking at me. “Was that I meant that I’m what's stupid.”

“That’s an understate-”

“Don’t.” He stopped me. “Don’t try to be snarky, Y/n. Let me speak.”

I just looked at him then raised my eyebrows and moved my head in a ‘Well, speak!’ motion.

Despite my attitude, he stayed calmer than before and took a deep breath. “Do you remember Christmas, two years ago?”

That same question.

What was so important two years ago? “You already asked me this…”

“Just. Yes or No? Do you remember?” He seemed suddenly on edge.

“I mean, I remember it, yeah, but are you talking about, like, a specific thing that happened? I don’t understand…” I spoke, trying to convey my confusion. He looked stern, and intent on hearing everything I had to say.

“Yeah,” he clarified. “I, um, I’m talking specifically about that night. Christmas night.”

My mind whirled as I tried desperately to pick out an obvious memory, but nothing was coming to mind.

That Christmas was the year my brother and sister didn’t come.

That Christmas was the year I was gifted the worst sweater by my mom.

That Christmas I stayed up practically all night.

I remember staying up all night, because the next morning, my mom forced me to go into town with her. I remember vividly how sluggish I’d been the whole time. But… that’s all….

Suddenly, I remembered something.

The thought of staying up triggered another thought: that night, I remember sitting on the sofa, watching a movie, when someone scared the shit out of me.

I had been peacefully wrapped in my blanket at around 4 am, when someone barreled through the door.

Oscar.

It was Oscar that scared me. I hadn’t been expecting anyone, especially Oscar since I didn’t even know he’d been out.

Two years ago, we didn’t ever talk to each other except to tease, so it’s no surprise he didn’t bother to tell me he was going somewhere.

When he came in, I was confused. My confusion grew as I’d taken in his appearance. His eyes were barely open, and his focus was darting all around the room. When his eyes met mine, his eyes opened and his body suddenly stopped. Full stop. He planted his feet and stared at me. His jaw was slack and his cheeks, from what I could tell in the little light from the kitchen behind me, was pinker than normal.

He was drunk. Oscar had come home drunk that night and had seen me when he walked through the door.

At the time, I remember laughing at him and turning back to my movie to ignore him.

But that’s not where the altercation ended– drunk Oscar had said something.

I remembered Oscar stopping, looking at me, and then he showed the broadest smile (one I'm sure would never have been directed towards me, had he been sober). Then, he sauntered closer to the sofa, out of the doorway and in front of my view of the television.

“Oscar…” I groaned. “Just go to bed, mate, your wasted.”

He stayed in place, restricting my vision and looking at me. Actually, he was staring at me. Actually he was staring all over me.

That night, I was wearing my short PJ shorts, and a Star Wars t-shirt. Nothing special, but it definitely caught drunk-oscar’s attention.

“Hello?” I tried again, but he was unrelenting.

“What?” was all he answered with.

“Get out of my way, that’s what.” I snapped, just trying to watch Princess Diaries.

He looked behind him to the screen and a grimace filled his whole face. Usually Oscar’s expressions consisted of mad and smirky-jerk, but when he was drunk, tons of emotions flashed on and off his face.

“That’s shit.” He must have been referring to the movie. His voice was groggy and deep, probably tired after what seemed like an exciting night.

“Whatever.” I gave up with the television and just wanted him to leave. “Just go to your room before someone else catches a visual of your post-party debauchery.”

“Dirty girllll,” he said slowly, borderline slurring. “Stop thinking about my de-whatever.” I quirked an eyebrow and shook my head at him. He seemed so incredibly out of it. I should totally hold this over him. Where’s my phone? I should totally film this.

I gave up looking for my phone, and looked back at oscar. Still standing there.

“Wait, what? I wasn’t at a party…” Oscar spoke, referring to my earlier statement of his “post-party” inebriation- an incredibly late reaction.

“Okayyyy…?” I said slowly. “Then what’s,” I motioned to all of him, “this?”

“Nothing.” He said rather quickly. Then his tempo changed as he looked down, almost shy. “None of your business, alright?” I nodded, but he kept speaking. “Actually, this has nothing to do with,” He copied my motion with a serious amount of sass and gestured to all of me, “…you. Ok?”

“Yeah, alright.” I was over this. He’s obviously completely drunk.

“I'm serious! Don’t accuse me of getting drunk because of my feelings, ok? Don’t even think about it. Why would I care about you… let along get drunk over fucking childhood crush on you? That’s ridiculous, and entirely possible— That’s not the point!”

Wait.

Back to the present- I now know why Oscar’s worried about that night.

Oscar must not have been that plastered if he now remembers what he said. Or rather, what he confessed. At the time I ignored his rambling and walked him to his room, away from me.

Now, I’m not sure all of that was just drunk-rambling.

Oscar was watching me figure everything out, watching me realize what he was so afraid of.

“I remember you rambling about having a… but there’s no way.” I said out loud to him, voicing my spinning thoughts. He just kept looking at me. “Right?” My voice got softer as I took in what Oscar’s silence might mean. “But you hated me.”

“Y/N.” He spoke like I was stupid.

“What?” I fired back, getting defensive.

“I never hated you, think about it.” He was trying to make me realize it, but all of my memories of him are arguments– save the past week.

“I am thinking about it. You always picked on me and fought with me. You said the meanest things and I always fought back. We’ve never gotten along…” I tried to list.

Then, all of a sudden, a smirk formed on his face.

That same smirk I’d claimed I’ve been missing, now felt weirdly… intimate?

“Oscar, you…” I didn’t know what to say.

“Yeahh” Is all he replied with, smirking and telling me all I need to know with one look. He started to move closer to me.

Step by step, he slowly walked towards me like he was testing my reaction. I just let him come closer and closer until we were face to face. Pine and wintergreen filled my senses. Our eye contact never waivered.

“Y/n, I don’t mean to bring this all up now.” he gestured to the door. His smirk lessened in intensity as he tried to apologize.

I suddenly remembered we’re in the middle of a 7 minutes in heaven game. And that it’s definitely been longer than 7 minutes.

(My sister was the culprit of our unexpected extra time, having told them to leave us alone.)

I focused back on the man in front of me. The man who had practically just confessed to me that he had a childhood crush on me. A childhood crush that he claims has never left.

“This is stupid.” I copied his words form before.

“Oh?” Oscar almost recoiled, hurt flashing on his face.

“No! Not… Not you! Not this.” I reacted and grabbed at the front of his shirt, not wanting him to misunderstand me and turn away.

Both of our breathing hitched at the contact, and the proximity it brought.

“Ok, then what do you mean?” He said, softly. His eyes were trained on my lips. I opened my mouth and closed it again, not knowing how to say this.

“I mean I’m stupid. Im stupid for not realizing it sooner. Im stupid for being so harsh and rude and-” I started apoligizing as my emotions began rising.

“I was rude too.”

“Yeah, but you…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. His confession was still new. However, the more I thought about him— Oscar Piastri, my rival and hater in every way—my mind started to clarify.

“Yeah, I…” He couldn’t say it either it seems.

We both stood close, not fully saying what we meant out loud yet still fully understanding what each other meant and wanted.

Seconds passed by of us relishing the new emotions, my grip never leaving him. We practically shared air at how close we were and our eyes locked. I started to feel what could only be described as butterflies.

It washed over me and the idea hit me like a train: I wanted him too. Maybe more than he wants me.

At this revelation I tugged him to my level and brought my lips to his ear.

I didn’t want to waste anymore time arguing or lying to ourselves.

I took a short breath and then whispered, “let’s get out of here.”

Then in almost one motion he smiled, a devilishly handsome smirk, then he grabbed my hand and took us away from the party.

Away from prying eyes.

hehehehhehehe 🫵💋

OH? WHATS THAT?!?! YOU GOT HERE FIRST BECAUSE, gasp!, you’re on my taglist?!?!?

any other people i missed or new people that want to be tagged, COMMENT or MESSAGE ME!

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𖧞

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my apologies if i couldn’t tag you but hopefully you got my messsge <3

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sweetsweetjellybean · 1 year ago

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If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 4 | The Reason

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Angst, Smut WC:11038 Masterlist Here

The nights are louder than he remembers. Full of the songs of the cicadas and peepers. The occasional croak of a bullfrog or the hoot of an owl. The distance sounds of traffic from streets away. Somehow it all seems much louder than the Upside-Down. Between the booms of thunder and howls of creatures, there were hours of absolute silence. It’s been six weeks, and Steve hasn’t forgotten how the silence made him feel. Anxious and defensive, like an itch he could never scratch.

Returning to his dark empty house, the quiet is more than he can stand. It’s become routine for him to sit outside on one of the loungers, watching the last rays of gold sink beneath the treeline, waiting for the sky to cycle through the palette of sunset until darkness finally gives way to the burst of stars. The nighttime sounds calm his worries. This is home. Sitting there, he tries to remember every detail so that it can never be taken from him again. Focusing on the pattern of shadows woven across the moon, he can’t help thinking about you. Are you looking up at the same sky?

“I thought I’d find you out here,” Nancy’s voice pulls him from his thoughts as she steps out of the house from the sliding glass door. “You didn’t answer when I knocked. I hope you don’t mind. I let myself in.”

“Of course not,” Steve says, twisting to look at her over his shoulder, “Come have a seat,” he gestures to the chaise beside him.

She moves into the space between the two loungers sitting down sideways so she can face him, folding her dainty hands in her lap. “I heard you were at Dustin’s all day today.”

“I put some shingles on that spot on the roof where the tree fell. They don’t need it leaking when it rains.” Construction is underway all over town. Minor projects are getting pushed down the waitlist as tradesmen try to complete the most lucrative jobs first, so Steve has been doing what he can to help his friends and neighbors.

“Well, that was nice of you,” she comments with a smile.

“Well, if you haven’t heard, I’m a nice guy,” he says with smug charm, his lips quirking on one side, aiming to pull an incredulous laugh from her.

“I think I may have heard that somewhere before,” she giggles, rolling her eyes before continuing, “You must be hungry. Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Nah, Mrs. Henderson made pot roast. She wouldn’t let me leave until I ate two helpings.” He rubs his flat stomach, smiling. Dustin’s mom always makes him feel like family.

“How about a movie then?” she asks, hope filling her voice.

“I’m exhausted, Nance.” He reaches out, patting her hand, “It’s a nice night. Stay here with me for a while.”

“You’ve been sitting out here a lot lately.” She looks down to where his hand covers hers.

“I never realized what I had until I almost lost it,” he says, pulling away from her and looking back towards the horizon. “I like it out here. It helps me think.”

“Think about what?”

“Everything…nothing. I don’t know.” The longer he looks, the more stars come into view. Simple truths are relieved by just taking the time to look.

“You’ve been so distant.”

Her words have him turning towards her again. She’s still looking down, wrapping her arms around herself, her small hands disappearing into the sleeves of her sweater.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be,” he frowns, watching how she’s trying to protect herself, “Are you cold?” He sits up, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off his shoulders. “Here. Sit back.” He stands and waits for her to swing her legs onto the lounger before tucking his coat over her like a blanket.

“Thanks,” she pauses, settling into the leftover warmth, “I thought this would be our time, and I’ve hardly seen you. We haven’t… we’re barely ever alone together.”

He runs a hand through his hair before sitting sideways on the lounger, taking up her position from earlier. “I guess we haven’t,” he says, knowing he’s been neglecting her, but there’s not much left of himself to give, “Work is keeping me busy, and the kids–”

“Steve,” she cuts him off, frustrated by his excuses, “Volunteering at the shelter and doing odd jobs for free doesn’t count as work. And the kids don’t need you to babysit them anymore. Robin’s been back at Family Video for a few weeks now. She told me that Keith has called you.”

“I don’t want to go back to Family Video,” he says, looking away. He’s been over all this before with Robin. “I’m not ready.”

“I know it’s been hard. We’ve all been through so much, but Max is healing. The kids are fine. Everyone is moving on. It’s time for you to start your life.”

His mouth opens with surprise. “Nance, the kids aren’t fine. Have you seen them? Max is struggling.”

“She’s getting better.”

“Nancy, she’s blind. And it’s not just her. Haven’t you seen the way Lucas panics every time he has to leave her side, even for a few minutes?”

“Steve,” she sits up, his jacket slipping down around her waist as she swings her legs to the side, reaching across the space between them to take his hand, “Nothing you can do is gonna fix that.”

“I know that,” he mumbles, but even acknowledging it stirs his guilt.

“I think you should come with me to Boston.” her fingers tighten around his as if she can already sense his reluctance.

“Boston? For school?”

“I think you’ll really like it there. It’s smaller than Indianapolis, and there are all these great old buildings. I called Emerson, and I’ve got it all figured out. It’s not too late to get the money back from my room and board. We can get an apartment, and I can get a job on the weekends.”

“I don’t know. You’re supposed to be studying, not working,” he shakes his head, looking away, “I don’t even know what I’d do in Boston.”

“It’s a city. I’m sure you can find some job that you’d like. Anything is better than Scoops, right? Maybe you can even go to school?”

“Sure, Nance, I didn’t get in at Hawkin’s Community, but I’ll pull out that acceptance letter I got from Harvard.” his eyes roll.

“Then just be with me, Steve. Let’s try and make it work this time,” she moves her head, seeking his eyes, trying to break through the wall between them ever since he’s been back.

He swallows hard and meets her eyes. “I want to, but I can’t leave them.”

She blows out a deep breath and lets go of his hand.

“What if something happens? What if it starts again?”

“It’s not going to, Steve. It’s over,” she emphasizes, like it's something she’s explained before. “Why can’t anyone accept that?” Her question makes him realize maybe she has just not to him. He may not be the only one thinking of someone else. Steve has only seen Will a few times since he’s been home. The boy’s clothes were even looser on his slight frame, and purple skin circled his sunken eyes, and Jonathan wasn’t leaving for school in the fall.

“That’s what we thought the last time, Nance. That’s what we’ve thought every time,” he says, his voice quiet but resolved, “I need to stay until they graduate–”

“That’s three more years,” she complains.

“They need me.”

“I need you.”

“No, you don’t.” he gives her a soft smile, reaching for her again, “You never have, not even once.”

She swipes at the tears forming in her eyes before they can fall. There isn’t anything else she can say.

“Come’er,” he tugs her off her seat, pulling her into his side as he settles back onto his lounger. Her arm wraps around him as she rests her head on his chest, the worry coming off her in waves. “It’s going to be alright, he smooths his hand over her hair, “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, snuggling closer, “Just don’t take too long.”

He holds her tightly as he looks back toward the darkened sky, the endless stars glinting as brightly as the moon. He tries to imagine his life with her in Boston, sitting on the rooftop of their tiny apartment. Would the stars shine as vividly with all the city lights? Would he still be thinking of you?

“Double check for any loose nails,” Steve instructs Dustin as he climbs down the ladder, his white t-shirt covered in sweat and dirt.

“Sure thing, Dad,” Dustin says smartly as he picks up the discarded singles that Steve had tossed down from the roof and throws them into the trash barrel.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the lawn mower,” he points his finger at the boy before picking up a bottle of water and taking a long pull. Despite the cool nights, the heat during the day still felt oppressive, and he could feel the tenderness of a burn beginning on the back of his neck.

“You don’t want one of those shooting out of the mower,” the boy mimics in a mocking voice before adding, “What an asshole.”

“Hey!” Steve fumes, settling his hands on his hips just as Mrs. Henderson comes toddling out of the house holding two glasses of lemonade.

“Oh boys, you finished! It looks so nice,” she says, handing the boys the lemonade and stepping back to admire the view, “You two did a great job.”

“You can’t even see it from down here, Mom,” Dustin scoffs. Earning a warning glance from Steve.

“Well, I can just tell,” Claudia Henderson informs her son, “It’s going to be such a relief not to worry every time it rains,” she says, turning her attention to the other boy, “I can’t thank you enough, Steven. I know you said I couldn’t pay you but here,” she pulls some folded bills from her pocket trying to hand them to Steve.

“No, thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Steve waves his palms in front of his chest, “The pot roast was thanks enough. It’s been a while since I had a meal like that.”

“Well, you’re welcome anytime. Isn’t that right, Dusty?” She looks for confirmation from her son. When Dustins folds his arms across his chest with a mumble of ‘son of a bitch’, her face goes red with embarrassment. She recovers quickly, smiling at Steve, “Would you like to stay tonight? I’ve got a casserole already to go in the oven.”

“Well–”

“Not tonight, Mom,” Dustin cuts in before Steve can finish, “I’m going to Gareth’s for Hellfire.”

“Dusty, We’ve talked about this. I don’t think that’s safe after everything that’s happened,” Claudia says, her fingers clutching the front of her shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Mom. Eddie’s dead. What more do you want?”

“Watch it, Henderson,” Steve says, putting his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you fuck off, Steven,” Dustin says, shrugging him off.

“Dusty!“

“Excuse us,” Steve says to Mrs. Henderson as he grabs Dustin by the collar and yanks him around the corner of the house.

“Since when do you talk to your mother like that?” Steve asks the boy as he releases him against the side of the house. “I know you’ve been feeling bad since Eddie, but you need to get this attitude in check. She doesn’t deserve that, and neither does anyone else.”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Dustin says, his voice rising in anger as he puts both hands on Steve’s chest and shoves him away. “You didn’t know him or care about him. Just do me a favor and add his name to the list of people you don’t give a shit about and forget you ever met him.”

“What are you talking about?” Steve asks, confused. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”

“Ding ding ding. Good detective work, Sherlock Holmes,” Dustin says, trying to walk away until Steve stops him, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“So help me, I may not win many fights, but I know I can kick your ass, you little shit,” he pushes Dustin back against the house. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“Like you care,” the boy spits, his face red with anger.

“Of course I care!” Steve yells, waving his hands. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, but for how long?” Dustin challenges.

“What?”

“Just until you get to play the hero again. Right, Steve?” he asks sarcastically.

“Are you kidding me, dude?” Steve asks, catching on. How can he actually think that? “That’s what this is all about because I pushed you through the gate? I did that for you. So you wouldn’t get stuck there. Someone had to stay-“

“Don’t give me that. You did it to be the hero. I begged Eddie not to go back,” Dustin yells, his voice cracking, nose beginning to run, “He just wouldn’t listen, and neither would you. I don’t need another dead friend, Steve. I need you here.”

“I am here!”

“I heard you,” he says, swiping at his eyes, “When El found you, screaming for her not to take you. You don’t know what it took to get you out. To get that gate back open. What we risked. Tell me again how much you care about us.”

“You got this all wrong. I care about you. All of you,” Steve shakes his head and pulls the boy into a reluctant hug, “I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere, you understand?”

Dustin nods into Steve’s chest, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, and Steve recognizes the gesture as his own. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out thick with emotion. “All I thought about was getting home, man. I just couldn’t leave her behind.”

Dustin sniffs, one arm reluctantly landing on Steve’s back. “There’s one thing I don’t get, Steve. If she was so important, then where is she?”

The polished silverware slides against each other, hitting the back of the drawer with a loud clank when Steve yanks it open with more force than necessary. He pulls out a fork and retrieves the open can of SpaghettiOs before heading outside through the slider of the sunroom. The conversation with Dustin plays on a loop in his mind. It’s clear the scars that they all bear are more than skin deep. How do you rejoin a life that doesn’t belong to you anymore?

He sits on the lounger stirring the tomatoey contents of the can. It’s later than usual. The sun has long since dipped below the horizon. A light mist hangs over the pool's surface, its blue-green light brightening the dark corners of the yard. With the thick clouds obscuring the waning moon and stars, the woods surrounding the yards stay shrouded in shadows. Decisions hang over his head like a knife about to drop, hurting the people he cares about. It’s not the past that’s hard to let go. It’s the future that was never supposed to be.

“I don’t know how you can stand that stuff cold,” Hopper’s voice comes from beside Steve just as the first bite passes his lips.

“I guess it’s just a habit now,” Steve replies as Hopper eases himself down on the chair beside him, a six-pack in his hand. He pulls one from the plastic ring, handing it to Steve before taking one for himself.

“Hmm,” Hopper cracks the tab of the Schlitz and takes a loud slurp, “Habits can be hard to break.”

Hopper had been dropping by Steve’s a couple of times a week since he had been home. Steve isn’t sure if this is Hopper’s way of checking up on him or if he just wants an hour of quiet before returning to the full house he shares with Joyce. Hopper has as much on his mind as Steve. Some nights they don’t exchange more than a few words. Whatever his reasoning for stopping by, Steve welcomes the company.

“So,” Steve says after washing down a couple more mouthfuls of Spaghettios with the cold beer, “If I needed to find the address for someone outside of town, is that something you could help me with?”

Hopper’s answer comes in the form of a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he pulls a slip of paper from his breast pocket, holding it out to Steve in between two fingers.

There’s a skeptical look on Steve’s face as he takes the paper from the older man. Hopper picks up his beer, going in for another sip as Steve unfolds the note, his eyes widening.

“You’re a damn good cop. You know that, right?” Steve asks, stuffing the paper into the pocket of his jeans.

“You’re not the first one to tell me, kid,” Hopper says, settling back into his lounge and looking to the sky where the clouds have shifted and thinned. Beams of light push through the thin wisps, brightening the darkness. “Whatta ya know?” Hopper says, pulling a cigar from the same pocket, “Looks like it might be a clear night after all.”

A light breeze blows the gauzy material of your sundress around your bare legs as you walk down the street toward your apartment. As you hitch your tote higher, the sun warms your shoulders, and a smile plays at your lips. The pieces of your life always find their way together like a jigsaw puzzle without the bigger picture. Forcing them into what you want never works, but eventually, they fit, a new section more beautiful than you imagined is laid out before you.

Your eyes lift from the sidewalk as a car speeds past, Higher Love blasting out of its open windows. The notes blend with the rush of wind through the trees that line your street. One yellow leaf flutters to the ground, an unmistakable sign that the end of summer is near. You watch the car cruise down the road until it passes the stone steps of your apartment. Your stomach and heart turn somersaults when you see him sitting there watching you from behind a pair of dark avatars, a million-dollar smile gracing his handsome face. Your pulse quickens as you approach, wondering if he will always have this effect on you.

“Hi,” he says, pulling off his glasses and tucking them into the collar of his white tee just as the car turns the corner and the music fades away.

“Hi yourself,” you say, stopping in front of him. “This is a surprise.”

“I thought it was fair,” he shrugs, squinting up at you with one eye slightly closed. “We have unfinished business.” He moves his coat and an empty soda can to his other side, inviting you to join him on the steps.

Climbing a few, you sit next to him, letting the bag fall from your shoulder to rest beside you. “What’s this business?” you ask, your arms circling your knees.

He smirks in response, turning to pull something from his jacket. Returning with a cellophane packet of Twinkies in his hand. “The other pack got a little squished,” he explains as his long fingers tear open the packaging, “These are fresher. I checked the date.” He hands you one of the yellow cakes before taking the other for himself.

“Thanks,” you laugh, taking the slightly sticky treat from his hand. He brings his to his mouth but pauses, wanting to watch you take your first bite, and you oblige him. One hand hovering under your mouth to catch the crumbs as your teeth breach the soft cake. The sweetness is overwhelming you as much as his gesture. “Mmmm, that’s good,” you say with your mouth still full.

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling, taking pleasure in your reaction, at how it feels just being near you again like no time has passed.

“Mmmhmm.” Your tongue darts out, licking the filling from your lips, missing a tiny glob in the corner. Before you can make a second pass, he swipes it away with the pad of his thumb, bringing it to his mouth to taste. Behind you, the apartment door opens, and your neighbor from upstairs is maneuvering around you with a heavy box in his arms. Steve’s arm is around your waist, pulling you closer to his side, giving your neighbor more room to get by. It happens quick enough for you to feel dizzy. Five minutes ago, you didn’t think you’d see him again, and now he’s surrounding you, heat lingering like a ghost every place he touches you. The thin material of your skirt barely separates your skin from his Levi-covered legs, his mouth just inches from yours as he bites into his Twinkie.

Your hand shakes as you turn away from him to pull a bottle of water from your bag. Twisting the lid, you take a few gulps to give yourself a moment to regroup.

“Are you alright?” He eyes you with a curious expression. He knows you too well. “Is it okay that I’m here?” He asks, his voice dropping, turning serious.

“I’m always glad to see you, Steve,” you answer honestly. It’s the goodbyes that you can’t bear.

He takes a moment, looking down at the cracked sidewalk. “You look really pretty,” the corners of his mouth lift but not with charm or arrogance, with something much softer. “I mean, you’re always pretty, but when I saw you coming down the street, you looked happy. I didn’t get to see that when we were…there.”

“Thank you. So do you, but I kind of miss the axe.”

A laugh bursts from deep in his chest, “Yeah? Did that do it for you?”

“Definitely,” you giggle, nudging him with your shoulder, “Want some?” You tip your bottle towards him.

“Sure,” he takes it from you.

“It’s my new habit,” you nod toward the bottle, “I get a bit panicked if I don’t have water with me. Kinda crazy, right?”

“Nah,” he takes a sip before replacing the cap and handing it back to you, “That’s not so bad as far as habits go. It’s kind of a smart one, actually. I keep eating Chef Boyardee cold.”

“Eww.” Your nose scrunches.

“Right out of the can,” he chuckles, his fingers circling your wrist, gently pulling your arm into his lap, turning it to reveal the healing scar running down the inside of your arm. “I can’t stand the quiet at night,�� he says without looking up from your arm. “I sit outside on my back deck for the noise. It’s where I think about you.” His long fingers trace the raised skin with the softest pressure. “I fall asleep out there most nights.”

“I sleep with the lights on,” you admit in a quieter voice, loving and hating how he touches you like you belong to him-like you’ll always belong to him. “And I stuff a couple of pillows behind me, so it feels like yo–like I’m not alone.”

His eyes lock with yours, and his fingers still. An ache that dulled over the past few weeks but never disappeared completely, crashes over you like a wave. You belong to him, but he’ll never be yours. Not here. Only in another world. Pulling your arm back, you wrap it back around your knees.

He frowns, sensing the shift between you, and changes the subject. “Were you coming from school?” he nods in the direction you came from.

“Oh. Um, yeah,” you say, following his eyes. The center of campus is a few blocks away from your apartment.

“Have classes started?” he asks, thinking about the answer he owes Nancy.

“No. Not for a few more weeks. I-uhh…I was changing my schedule. I’m not going to do fieldwork anymore. I’m going to teach instead. Maybe high school,” you explain.

“But you loved it,” his eyebrows pull together in a straight line.

The same expression your advisor gave you when you told him. “I know, but I can’t. Not anymore.”

His Adam’s apple bobs, an expression of guilt washing over his face.

“Hey, don’t feel bad for me. Teaching’s a good gig. Great hours. Summers off. There are worse jobs.”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” he says, recovering. “You can force all those kids to listen to your bad jokes.”

“Exactly,” you laugh, squeezing your knees tighter, “What about you? Have you figured out what you want to do yet?”

“No, not yet,” his head turns away, looking down the other side street, “Nancy wants me to come with her to Boston.”

Your heart cracks open even though you knew this was coming. “So you’re together again?”

He turns, shaking his head, “No. Not really. She wants to be.”

“And what do you want?” you ask, but your heart already knows the answer.

“I don’t know,” both hands card through his thick hair, pulling on the ends, “I don’t know. It’s not that easy. The kids….Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Nothing’s made sense since the last time I was with you. That’s why I had to see you.”

“I think you know exactly what you want.” You place your hand on his knee, a gesture meant to comfort, but he takes full advantage, covering your hand with his, lacing his fingers through yours. You should pull away, but your heart pleads to take what you can. Goodbye is just on the horizon.

“You’ve loved her for so long.”

“It doesn’t feel right anymore,” he argues, leaning closer, his forehead brushing yours.

“I think,” you pause, wetting your lips, and his eyes track the movement. “I think you’ve been making decisions thinking of everyone else for so long you’ve forgotten what it’s like to choose something that will make you happy.”

“What if the right thing,” his voice has dropped to just louder than a whisper as his nose runs along your cheek, “and what I want is the same thing?”

“Steve,” your breaths are coming in shudders from deep in your chest. Tears sting behind your eyes as a cruel voice repeats from the back of your mind. He’ll never choose you.

“Can we go inside?” his lips touch yours with the barest of brushes.

His question is a jolt of ice water up your spine. You’ve indulged yourself too long. If you let him in now, tomorrow when he’s gone, you won’t recover. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, pulling back. You let your resolve steel your spine as you stand. Climbing a few steps, putting distance between you.

He stands, trying to follow. Sadness and confusion marring his pretty face. “Honey– "

You stop him with a hand held out in front of you. “All of this. Everything we’ve been through. It happened so you can get what you’ve always wanted. So she can see you. Don’t throw it away, Steve. You’re going to thank me someday.”

His mouth opens, but he can’t find the words. Stepping forward, you throw your arms around him in a hug too quick for him to return before you step back. “I’m so happy to have seen you again.” you smile, working hard to keep your tone enthusiastic, promising yourself you will not fall apart despite the pain. Not this time. “Send me a postcard from Boston, okay?” you ask, but you’re already turning away, pulling your keys from your tote, and moving to the door.

“I miss you,” he says. The pain in his voice makes you pause and close your eyes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever missed anyone before, not the way I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” you turn back to him. You know he’s trying, but it’s not enough, not after having him. He’s still not choosing you, and you deserve someone who will, even though it’s so tempting to give in to him.

“Maybe I’ll surprise you next time,” you keep it light, “I’ll show up in Boston when I need someone to share a Twinkie. Take care of yourself, Steve,” you push your key into the lock.

“Wait. Wait, he says, waving his hands before they settle on his hips, “If you’re so sure I’m supposed to be with her, then what’s your reason? Why were you there? Why did we even meet?”

Your eyes shift to your shoes, trying to find an answer that isn’t a lie, reasoning that it’s okay to lie if it’s for his own good. “I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

The lock clicks before he can say anything else, and you quickly seal yourself on the other side. You wait until you see him walking down the steps to let yourself into your apartment. Immediately dropping your bag and leaning your back against the door. Your hand moves to your stomach as you silently apologize for your lie. Pushing away, you walk through your tiny kitchen to the refrigerator. Rubbing your eyes, you refuse to let a tear fall. You won’t regret doing the right thing. Your hand wraps around the handle before you yank it open and pull out a juice container. “It was the right thing,” you whisper, letting the door swing closed, revealing the black and white strip of photos of a small blurry shape taped to the other side. “For all of us.”

The buzzing from the cars zooming past in a haphazard flow does nothing to calm Steve’s nerves as he makes the long drive back to Hawkins.

“Fuck,” he slams his hand against the wheel as the memory of you closing that door, shutting him out of your life, replays in his mind. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. He shouldn’t have pushed. After being apart for so long, he should have known better. But seeing you come down the street, having you so close–it was like no time had passed. It felt natural to touch you. He had just wanted to talk. Just wanted to see that you were alright, but the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips had only made him want more. And then, just like before, it was over before it really began.

Steve snaps off the radio, cutting off Lindesy’s pleas. One thing had come out of it, though. He had gone to you looking for clarity, and you had given it to him. You were right. He does know what he wants. He keeps the radio off, rolling down the window, listening to the sounds of life around him. Watching the highways turn into towns and more familiar roads until he was crossing the Hawkins town line. Passing the turn for Cornwallis, he heads north toward Maple. The house is dark when he pulls into the driveway, his lights bouncing off the second-story window he had climbed through more than a few times before. But not tonight. He turns the key, pulling it from the ignition, the leather creaking as he leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. The light’s still low, just breaking, when the knock on his window wakes him. The blue of Nancy’s eyes is brighter than the sky as she stands barefoot, freezing her nightgown. She takes his hand as they walk inside.

“I’m working on it, Flo,” Hopper yells in response to the knock at his closed office door. He scrambles for the empty file folder stuck between his booted feet and the desk that they are resting on. He wraps the folder around the copy of Car and Driver that he’s been reading and quickly shoves the half-eaten donut into his top drawer. Replacing it with a red apple that he takes a big bite of just as his door swings open.

“Oh, it’s you,” he says as Steve wanders into his office, shutting the door behind him and sitting heavily in the chair in front of Hopper’s desk.

“What do you want?” Hopper asks as he settles back further in his chair, his eyes moving back to the file folder he’s holding up in front of him.

“How about a job?” Steve asks, his eyes roving around the small office.

“Ha, good one,” Hopper chuckles, pulling out a camel from his breast pocket.

“I’m serious, Hop.”

Hopper narrows his eyes as he lights his cigarette. “What’s gotten into you, kid? Having regrets about not leaving with Nancy a few weeks ago?”

“No. Nothing like that. It was never gonna work out,” Steve says, shaking his head. He said goodbye to Nancy the morning she found him outside her house. He loved her, but they weren’t right for each other. It would have left them both broken if they’d forced their lives to fit together. So, he let her go like you had let him go with affection and without regrets. Another chapter closed.

“I’m ready to figure out what to do with my life.”

Hopper stays quiet, taking another drag from his smoke.

“I figure I’m pretty good at helping people, so that’s what I want to do,” Steve shrugs.

“This isn’t just helping old ladies across the street, Harrington,” Hopper says, sitting up in his chair and blowing out a steady stream of smoke, “It’s hard work.”

“Yeah, I can eat donuts and read Car and Driver, too, Chief,” Steve says, waving a hand toward Hopper.

“Watch it, kid,” Hopper says, slamming the magazine on his desk and stubbing out his cigarette, “What happened with the girl?”

“The girl?” Steve questions

“You went to see her, right?” Hopper asks, leaning forward on his elbows. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Steve says, looking away.

Hopper’s jaw tightens as his eyes turn to slits under thick eyebrows.

“What do you want me to say?” Steve asks, crossing one leg over the other. “She wasn’t interested.”

“Let me get this straight. You went there?”

“Yup.”

“Knocked on her door?”

“Waited for her to get home half the day.”

“Then you told her you weren’t going with Nancy?”

“Well–“

“And that you’re in love with her.”

“Not exactly.”

“You are in love with her?”

“I–”

“What’s wrong with you, Harrington?” Hopper asks, gripping the edge of his desk, “Are you stupid or something?”

“Jesus, Hop,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have you seen them out there?” Hopper’s uniform-covered elbow slams down on the desk as he points to the closed door, “I’m full up on stupid. Now,” he says, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest, “I might have something for someone who’s got their shit together, but right now that aint you, Harrington. So, come back and talk to me when you do.”

“Hop, I–“

“I don’t want to hear it, Harrington. You might be able to do some real good someday, but right now, I’m busy. Important police business to take care of,” Hopper says, propping his feet back up on the desk and burying his face in the magazine.

Steve isn’t sure if it’s sentimentality or sheer curiosity that drew him here, but he did know as soon as he saw the stack of folded afghans being placed in a box at the shelter that this is where he’d end up. On first approach, the cottage doesn’t appear much different than the one in the Upside-down. The tiny home still remained obscured by tall sugar maples and eastern white pines. White curls of paint still clinging to the old timber walls next to sturdy black shutters. But the well-tended beds of colorful flowers that line the walkways and front of the cottage give it a more inviting feel.

His shoes scrape up the stone steps, where he stops to take a fortifying breath preparing to see the woman that used to haunt his bad dreams. His knuckles wrap against the door while flashes of himself cutting away vines play in his mind.

“Mrs. Willard,” he calls after hearing a series of loud coughs on the other side of the door.

“Just a minute. Just a minute,” Her voice gets closer as he hears the locks being worked before the door swings open, “Jesum crow, give an old lady a minute to get to the door.”

Anne Willard’s full height barely put her at the center of Steve’s chest. Her poof of white curls gave her an extra few inches, as well as the sensible black shoes that adorned her feet. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any,” she huffs, ready to slam the door.

“I’m not selling anything, ma’am,” Steve says, giving her one of his best smiles, “I’m Steve Harrington, a volunteer from the shelter over at the middle school. I don’t think anyone thanked you for donating all those blankets, so I wanted to stop by and ask if there was anything I could help you with around your property.”

“Help me?” She takes a step forward, her balled hands landing on her hips, head tipped up to look Steve in the eye, “Do you think I’m senile? Can’t take care of myself?”

“No, ma’am. I know you’re alone out here, and I thought I could be useful.”

“Humph. Well, I guess we’ll have just to wait and see about that,” she says, her clear blue eyes as sharp as a woman half her age, “You better come inside then.”

She turns on her heel, leaving the door open, and Steve with no choice but to follow her. His eyes roam the familiar space. She must not have changed a thing in her home since time stopped in the Upside-down. He feels like he’s lived a lifetime here instead of only a few days.

“Tea,” Mrs. Willard says, raising her finger as she starts down the hall leading to the kitchen. Steve follows her, ghosts echoing in his heart as he passes the closed door of the bedroom where he made love to you.

The kitchen is the same, with brighter sunlight pouring through the windows and backdoor. Fresh flowers stuffed in pitchers dot surfaces between the knit-covered crockery. The older woman stops in front of the butcher block countertop, pushing up on her toes to reach for two mugs from the open shelving.

“Let me do that, Mrs. Willard,” Steve says, reaching beside her and retrieving the mugs.

“Enough with the Missus stuff. Anyone who makes tea in my kitchen calls me Anne,” she says, shuffling to the table and sitting, “The kettle is right there on the–”

But Steve already has the kettle filling. The knited cozy folded neatly near the stove.

“Well, you certainly know your way around a kitchen,” she says, looking at him with a curious eye as he starts the kettle boiling and drops the teabags into the cups.

“I remember you,” she says when he turns and leans against the counter, “I know your mother. You used to run around town with your little gang like you were the Prince of Hawkins. So tell me, have you done any growing up since then?”

“I’d like to think so,” he says as the kettle starts to sing. He pulls it from the stove, pouring water into each mug, and brings both cups to the table.

“Now,” she says, folding her hands in her lap while waiting for the tea to steep, “Is there anything I need doin’? Let’s see, I had the gutters cleaned a few months back. I mow my own lawn and tend to the garden. Besides that, there’s not much else to do. My Jacob built this whole place himself, and it’s just as sturdy as the day we moved in.”

“You have a beautiful home, Anne,” he comments, trying out her first name. “You don’t see places built this solid.” The cottage was the only house they came across in the Upside-Down that was mainly untouched by the decay.

“He built it as a wedding gift. He knew I loved the lake. I just wish we had more years here together. So much wasted time.”

“How long were you married?”

“Forty-three wonderful years. Not enough,” she smiles sadly, sorting through her memories. “We got married at nineteen, but that was considered late at the time. We met when I was sixteen, and everyone knew Jacob was sweet on me right from the start. Walking me home, and bringing me flowers, but every time he asked to take me out, I turned him down flat. I thought he was too good for me. You see, Jacob was from a very well-to-do family. Things like that mattered so much more back then. I told him he shoulda been courting Ellen-Mae Sattler. Her family owned the quarry and half the town. It was no secret she had her sights set on him, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Every time I sent him away, he’d just come right back.”

“How did he finally convince you,” Steve asks, completely wrapped up in her story.

“Well, one day he just showed up with a ring and said, ‘I love you, Annie, and if you turn me down, it’s not going to make one lick of difference cause I’m just gonna keep on loving you anyway.’ We got married three days later." Her lip quivers as her eyes turn glossy. "The Lord knows I miss that man every day. Suppose I’ll be joining him soon enough.”

“I know he’ll be waiting, Anne,” Steve says, covering her hand with his.

“Oh well, now I’ve gotten all weepy,” she says, picking up a napkin to dab at her eyes. “Now, what about you, young man? Do you got a girl out there that you love like that?”

“Yeah,” he says, a smile ghosting his lips, “I definitely do.”

A bright flash lights up your small living room, follows a round of thunder rattling the rain-streaked windows. Wrapping your arms tighter around yourself as you sit on your worn couch with your knees pulled up, tucked under your oversized Perdue sweatshirt, you take deep soothing breaths. There have been storms since you’ve returned, but not like this. Not the kind that has the entire sky dark and purple with near-constant thunder. Not the kind with so much lighting, the hair on your arms stands up straight, and you can feel electricity buzzing in the air. It’s taken you right back there, and this time you’re alone.

With another loud boom, the lamp in the corner of the room cuts out, and the room falls into near darkness. “One-two-three,” you count, trying to keep your voice steady and breathing even. As suddenly as it turned off, the light flares on, and the display on your VCR flashes zeros. A deep sigh escapes your chest just as the door buzzer sounds.

Your muscles are stiff with tension as you stand up, moving towards the intercom, “Who is it?”

“It’s Steve.” The sound of his voice is barely audible over the pouring rain. One hand moves to your mouth while your thumb punches the button, unlocking the door. Here he is, saving you again.

Your fingers shake as you work the locks as quickly as you can, opening the door to him standing there half-drenched, hair dripping onto the collar of his soaked gray jacket, a wet crumpled bag in his right hand. He hasn’t taken a full step over the threshold when you are crushing yourself into his chest, your arms going around his middle. Stiffening, he swallows hard before dropping the bag, his arms wrapping tightly around you. He’s freezing but somehow still filling you with warmth.

“I’m sorry,” you say against his chest, “The storm.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures, pulling you closer, letting his hands trail up and down your back, “you’re alright.”

The feel of his lips ghosting at your temple brings you back to awareness, and you step away from him, heat rising from your chest to your cheeks. “Sorry,” you say again, yanking on the cuffs of your sweatshirt, “You picked a good time to drop by,” you chuckle, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Yeah?” he laughs with you, “Would you mind if I come in then?”

“Ohmygod,” you cover your face with your hands, “Of course.”

Your eyes shift around your kitchen, trying to remember what you might have left out as he picks up his bag and follows you through your apartment into your living room. A small one-bedroom subsidized by the university, is a step up from the dorms you were lucky to get. The galley kitchen leads into the small living room, big enough for a sofa and a desk, that surface overflows with books and papers.

“Nice place,” he says, concern filling him as he watches you flinch with the next flash of lightning.

“Thanks.” You stand in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do now, watching as he unzips his wet jacket revealing a crisp Polo. He carefully folds it, trying to avoid tracking more water through your apartment, and looks around for somewhere he can put it down.

“Let me get you a towel,” you say, rushing from the room down the narrow hallway, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. The wind picks up outside. The storm is right over you now. Branches of the tree outside your bedroom sway back and forth, scraping against your windows. The bi-fold doors of the overstuffed closet stick when you try to pull them open.

“Shit,” you cry when they won’t budge more than an inch.

“Everything okay?” Steve’s worried voice calls from the living room.

The lights flicker as quick snaps of lightning flash like a strobe while you tug harder on the handles. Thunderclaps roar loud enough to shake the entire building as the doors burst open with one last tug that sends you falling backward onto your butt as half your closet empties onto the floor.

“No,” you press your hands to your cheeks, overwhelmed as panic and frustration claw their way up inside you. Ignoring how your head swims, you move to your knees, chasing loose geodes scattered across the floor, when you feel his hands on your shoulders.

“Leave it for now,” he says, his warm hands covering your shaking ones as he helps you to your feet. “It’s not important. We’ll get it cleaned up in a minute.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you nod, trying to slow your breathing.

“It’s okay.” He cups your jaw, tipping your head back so you’re focused on him. The deep hazel of his eyes pulls you in. “Stay with me. I’ve got you, okay? It’s you and me.”

Your hands move to his chest, bunching the fabric into your fists, bringing him closer. Despite the questions that swirl lost somewhere in your mind, you can’t deny yourself the comfort he offers.

“I won’t leave you.” His chest tightens, hoping this is a promise he’s allowed to keep.

“Why aren’t you in Boston?” you ask as a tear spills over your lash line.

“Honey,” his eyes soften as his thumb strokes your cheek, “I was never going to Boston.”

As his arms move around you, bringing you close, you let out a breath that you feel you’ve been holding since you woke up in the hospital. One that has been keeping you from falling to pieces because now you can—he’s holding you together.

Without leaving the safety of his arms, you let him lead you to the couch. Your head finds a home on his chest, and you bring your legs up, curling into him. Something warm gets tucked around you. He holds you close as the storm rages outside, his heartbeat lulling you into calm. At some point, your eyes must have closed because the sound of light rain is the next thing you remember.

“It passed,” Steve says, tightening his hold on you when he feels you stirring, hoping he doesn’t have to let you go yet. Content to stay, you snuggle in deeper, tugging the afghan tighter around you both. The familiar softness of the downy yarn catches your attention.

“Wait, where did you get this?” you ask, sitting up, the scalloped edges running between your fingers, give way to a pattern of multicolored flowers.

“I went to the cottage. Mrs. Willard gave it to me, but I knew right away that it belonged with you.” His arm slides from your shoulder, traveling the length of your back.

“You went there?” An ache runs rampant through your chest. As the sensible voice inside you begs you not to let him climb through the cracks into your heart.

“I needed to see it,” he takes your hand, eager to keep the connection, “it was exactly the same. She hasn’t changed a thing. I asked if she needed any help, but as it turned out, the only thing she needed was someone to listen.”

"And what did she say?"

“She just talked,” he shrugs. “She told me about her husband and their life together. It made me realize how much time I’ve wasted,” he lifts his eyes to yours, “You were right, I know what I want. I want you. You’re the one I can’t live without.”

After all these weeks, the words you didn't dare dream of fall easily from his lips. Leaving what was left of your battered armor to shatter and fall away.

“I should never have left you in the hospital, and I should never have said goodbye. I should have fought for you like I did there. I know you don’t think we belong together, but you loved me. Is there any part of you that still does?”

“I never stopped.” The tears run down your face faster than you can wipe them away. “I can’t. I love you, Steve.”

His eyes light up at your confession. His lips pull tight into a smile as he leans forward, dipping his head, but you stop him with a hand on his chest.

“I love you,” you start again, choking on the words, “But there are things you don’t know about. Things that could change your mind.”

The secret you’ve been keeping is a band on your heart, constricting its beats. One that you know will change everything.

“Honey, whatever it is…I love you. We survived the world burning down around us. We can make it through anything.”

His hand moves to your neck, but you push him away, “No, Steve, you don’t understand,” you hiccup as the tears blur your vision. “I should have told you.”

“It’s okay. I promise,” His thumbs wipe away your tears, “Let me get you some water, and you can tell me.” He stands, leaving you for the kitchen while you try to find a way to tell him.

There’s no doubt in your mind that Steve would do the right thing, and that’s exactly why you couldn’t tell him. He would stay with you out of obligation, and one morning you’d wake up to resentment written all over his face as he trudges through the day instead of living out his dreams. You won’t take that from him. So you’ll tell him, and then you’ll let him go for the last time taking your heart with him. The cabinet bumping closed reminds you of what's pinned on your fridge.

“Steve, wait!” you scramble toward the kitchen, but you're too late. He turns the corner, his eyes lowered to the ultrasound photos he’s carrying in his hands.

You stand still, quiet sobs wracking your chest, like a chess piece on a board waiting to see if his next move will knock you down.

His eyes finally rise, full of hurt and shock. "You're having my baby."

You owe him so much more than the nod of your head, but the words stay lodged in your throat. The sound of soft rain hitting the windows fills the silence between you. He carefully sets the strip of scans on your desk, making sure they have their own spot like they’re something precious. He staggers toward you, moving slowly like he’s afraid to frighten you, his face still in a daze.

“I’m sorry,” you manage as he stops before you. He shakes his head from side to side, keeping his eyes lowered.

“You don’t have to…”

Your words trail off as he sinks to his knees. Placing a gentle hand on your belly, he leans forward until his forehead rests softly beside it.

“Hi,” he whispers, “I’m your dad.”

His fingers stroke feather light where his child is growing inside you. He’s never imagined anything more beautiful.

“You want us?” you ask in whispered tones, “Are you sure?”

“Honey, you’re giving me family. It’s all I have ever wanted.” His lips press softly against your belly.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh taking your fears with it. The love you feel for him—him and the part of him inside you, cracks open your heart until it’s filling every part of you with such a force you’re surprised you can’t see it glowing under your skin.

“Are they okay?” he asks, lifting his head, keeping his hand where it is, his eyes glossy as he looks up at you, “Is the baby okay? The Upside-down..”

“Yes,” you say, interrupting, not wanting him to worry for a second, “The baby’s fine. Developing normally. I had the ultrasound early, to be sure.” You cover his hand with yours, and he sighs in clear relief, his other hand grabbing your hip.

“You're my reason. Both of you,” he says, pulling you closer, “I’ve never been more sure.”

“You’re mine too,” you say, dropping to the floor to join him, your hand moving to his stubbled cheek, “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s okay. It doesn’t matter anymore,” his hand cradles the back of your head, “I love you, and I’m going to take care of you if you’ll let me?”

“How about we take care of each other?”

His lips stretch into a smile before he leans forward, and they close over yours. "Deal," he agrees, going back for another kiss.

Your arms wind around his neck as he pulls you tightly against him. The plush of his lips working lazily around yours. Steve was right. He had held you like this while the world burned around you, expecting your last act to be loving each other. A love that is rare and true and written in the stars. A love that will survive the test of time. Time that neither one of you will take for granted. Living fully in each minute, watching your love grow into a family. You can feel all this in the press of his lips. The stories of your future are printed there.

"I love you," he says again because he wants you to know loving you was never a choice. His fingers move under the edge of your sweatshirt lighting trails of fire along your skin as his kiss changes from slow to hungry.

"Can I touch you?" He asks. Even though his hands are already on you, he wants your permission to go further.

"Please," you pant, already on the edge of being consumed with want, "I need you, Steve."

"I need you too, honey. Need to know you're mine." His hands lift the edge of your sweatshirt, and you raise your arms, helping him rid you of it. He barely glimpses what he's uncovered before you pull at his Polo, stretching the fabric in your greed to feel his skin against yours. He takes you back in his arms, and it feels like home. Your soft skin a contrast to the thatch of hair on his chest as you feel the rapid beat of his heart against your own. The wet slide of his kiss only makes you want more. Want all of him.

Your whimpers drive his urgency as he lets you go to retrieve a pillow from the couch and carefully lays you back on it. His fingers grip the waistband of shorts and panties, sliding them down your legs.

"You look so pretty all laid out for me," he says, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting back on his heels, his big hand landing where your knees are pushed together, "but I want to see all of you."

Your fingers trace your kiss-bitten lips, feeling the ghost of his as your thighs fall open, revealing the glossy evidence of exactly what he does to you. His fingers run absently up and down your inner thigh as he looks his fill wearing the expression of a man about to take what's his.

"Steve," you whine, feeling impatient while your hands move to your breasts adding a graceful slow roll of your hips to remind him he can do more than just look.

"Fuck, honey. How did I ever stay away from you?" he asks, crawling over to place a kiss just above your belly button, the first in a slow trail ending at the top of your pussy. His hands wrap around your thighs, holding you open for his first slow lick up your center that sends your back arching off the floor.

“You taste so good. I’m already addicted,” he says, eyes catching yours before his mouth closes over you in a wet assault, tongue swirling through your folds, drawing circles around your clit.

“No one,” you gasp, clawing at the carpet while your hips fight against the press of his hands, “No one has ever made me feel this way.”

You can feel him smile against you as he slides two fingers inside your velvety heat moving in and out of you steadily, curling upward to brush against the spot that adds a new layer of euphoria radiating through you.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making you feel like this,” he pauses to kiss the plush of your thigh. Your fingers tangle in his hair as he returns his attention back to your pleasure. He groans with your gentle tugs, the vibrations rippling against your core.

“Need to get you ready for me, honey,” he says, adding a third finger. Biting down on your lip, you hiss through your teeth at the slight sting of the stretch. He gives you time to adjust, waiting until your slick soaks his fingers.

His pace quickens, changing those quick jolts of lighting into a blur of rapture. Your walls tighten as your body tenses. Your chorus of desperate moans his new favorite tune.

"That's it, give it all to me. Cum for me, beautiful." His lips close over your clit, sucking in short bursts. Your blood sings with the new sensations rushing through you, turning molten as you rise like a fiery star.

Calling his name, you fall over the edge into bliss, the world ceasing to exist beyond your connection. He helps you float down with gentle touches and light kisses placed on your belly. He can’t fight back his smile as he looks down at you. A face that he memorized every detail of, now glowing with his love and his child. He didn’t have to die to become the man he wanted to be. He just had to open his heart.

When your eyes flutter open, he’s there, deep moss swirling with amber and gold filled with love. From the first moment you met, you placed your faith in him, and fate has led you to a love you never thought you’d find. After the uncertainty, the struggles, and the fears have fallen away, love is all that is left between you.

He’s chosen you, and you, him. Once in another world and again in this one. A life together that was fought for and hard-won. As the page turns, you’re no longer fearful of what's next, knowing you’ll be together. Whatever lies ahead, you’ll take his hand and welcome the adventure.

Epilogue

"And that's why you don’t take life for granite."

A chorus of groans erupts as the students gather their books and papers when the shrill bell sounds over the loudspeaker.

"Hey, I better start getting some more laughs out of you all, or I'll be forced to assign more homework," you call out over your shoulder as you erase the formulas you had written on the blackboard.

"Will we see you later, Mrs. Harrington?" says the ringleader of a group of four boys lingering around your desk.

"Sorry, guys. No AV club tonight," you tell them as you settle into the creaking chair behind your wooden desk, "I've got plans. Next week, alright?"

"I bet you're going to be busy getting set up to watch the Perseid meteor shower?" questions Travis, the overly enthusiastic one. With a mouth full of braces and a head full of curls, he reminds you of someone else you know.

"Something like that," you smile, thinking about your plans as you tidy the papers on your desk, adjusting the large geode next to your nameplate.

"Alright, see you tomorrow," they concede, shuffling out, their disappointment already forgotten by the time they make it to the door.

"See you tomorrow," you call after them as Tina, an 8th grader with hearts in her eyes, squeezes past them into the doorway.

"A policeman in the office is asking to see you, Mrs. Harrington."

"Thank you, Tina. Can you please tell him I'll meet him outside?" you can barely hide your smile, knowing exactly why he’s here.

"Sure," she says, leaning her head against the edge of the door frame, "He's really dreamy."

“Alright, Tina,” your eyes roll, “Get to where you're supposed to be.”

She’s quick to follow instruction as you finish preparing for your next class. Leaving your room, you walk through the quiet halls and across the empty gym, the sound of your heels clicking against polished floors. Pushing open the set of double doors at the far end, a warm hand wraps around your bicep, pulling you outside into the shade of the building and maneuvers you up against the hard brick wall.

“Mmm,” you whine as Steve pulls away the collar of your blouse and attaches his lips to the spot where your pulse is speeding up, “You're going to get me in trouble,” your voice already breathless, as your hands move to his head holding him there.

“I can’t help it,” he says, running his hands along your sides, “I’ve been thinking about you all day. You’ve got me so distracted.”

“Is that so?” you ask as his lips brush over yours.

“That’s so.” His thumb tugs at your chin, coaxing you to open so he can take the kiss deeper. “I can’t even concentrate..” His words trail off as his mouth takes yours, kissing you like he did that very first time. Like you’re the only woman in the world. Like he adores you.

“Steve,” you mumble against his lip as your hands smooth up the front of the crisp tight-fitting blue button-up. Seeing him in uniform never fails to make you ache with need. The top two buttons are always undone, revealing the white shirt he wears underneath with just a glimpse of the hair on his chest showing and a shiny silver badge pinned just left of his heart. Your fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck that he still wears too long to be regulation.

“What did the doctor say this morning?” He asks as one of his hands slides lower on your hip, down the side of your skirt, dipping just under the hem.

“He gave me the all clear,” you breathe out, pulling his mouth back to yours as his hand continues to climb until it finds the lacy edge of your stocking and the garter it’s attached to.

"Are you wearing lingerie?" His fingers get bolder seeking out more of the lace.

"It's new," you answer, grinding yourself against his hardening length, “I thought you deserved it. You’ve been taking such good care of everything since the baby.”

“Jesus, honey,” he groans, tipping his head back and slapping his hand against the rough wall of the building, “How am I going to wait until the kids are in bed?”

“You won’t have to. Hopper is picking up the boys after hockey, and Joyce already has the baby,” two of your fingers start walking down the front of his shirt, brushing against the leather of his belt, heading lower to the flat front of his tight black pants. “We’ll have the house to ourselves until tomorrow.”

“What about Fate?” He asks, his eyebrows pulling together, always the protector of his other favorite girl.

“She’s having a girl's night with El and Max.” you smile, knowing he would ask about your oldest. You set up this plan weeks ago. Waiting to be together after the birth of your babies is just as hard on you as it is on him.

“You’re sneaky.” His hand reaches around you to give your ass a little squeeze.

“You love it,” you admit pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” he says as the bell rings again, projected through the speaker over your heads.

“I’ve got to go,” you swat his hand away so you can straighten your skirt.

“Not yet,” he pouts, using a finger to trace your neckline, pulling it away from your body, “Just let me have a little peek,” he tries looking down the front of your blouse.

“Get out of here,” you laugh, giving him a gentle push.

“Fine,” he grumbles with a smile, turning to walk back to where his cruiser is parked.

“Tonight,” you call, making him turn and look back at you.

“Tonight,” he says, raising the fingers of his left hand to his lips, the sun glinting off the gold band on his fourth finger, “and forever.”

The End

AN: Thank you so much for sticking with this little series. It challenged me in ways that I never expected, but I learned a lot writing it.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #if tomorrow never comes #steve harrington x fem #stranger things smut

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witchersmistress · 2 years ago

Text

Pizza and orgasms

i do not give permisson for my work to be copied or used in any other form.

You've been friends with Henry for years, taking the mickey out of one another, been through all the boyfriends, girlfriends, the regrettable one night stands but there was always something that pulled you guys together. You guys got together for you weekly dinner nights when he was working or on a super busy schedule. It was a warm evening and you decided on pizza and of course Henry just had to use his big green egg grill.

Lounging outside as he cooked you talked about anything and everything, but your mind just couldn't let go of the fight you had with your ex, a few weeks ago. “Penny for your thoughts?” Henry quipped. Giving him a tight smile “Nothing just something stupid my ex said '' he rolled his eyes, he truly didn't like that man, but he was polite and respectful towards him, but that was about it, but no one was ever good enough for you and vice versa.

“Come on love, out with it” your stomach did flips every time he called you love, even after all these years. “It's..just.. Ugh'' you blew out a frustrated breath. It was just awkward to admit to this and you were ashamed of your secret. Henry reached out and squeezed your hand, nodding slightly and he encouraged you to continue. “He accused me of faking the ugh big O when I was with him. '' I felt the apples of my cheeks turning red. He chuckled softly, “That man probably wouldn't know the difference anyway, whether it was true or not.”

But that wasn't the secret you were hiding. You laughed trying to hide behind it then openly admit the truth. Taking a sip of his white wine “So what did you say” I shook my head “I told him I didn't but that wasn't the truth” he let out a hearty laugh “So you did fake it, you rascal” you gave him a sad smile. This is Henry you're talking to, your best friend in the entire world, if you couldn't tell him you couldn't tell anyone, you spoke as he took another sip of wine “ It's easy to fake when you haven't experienced it before” Henry was shocked. His eyes widened, as he set down his wine glass.”Come again?” straightening your shoulders `` Well, I've experienced orgasms by myself but not with a partner. "I looked at Henry to try and read his face but it was blank. After several long pauses he said “Baby girl” , our pizza long forgotten on the table, he got up and pulled you up with him “Come” walking into his house.

He led you to the stairs and pointed up them. Your lip quivered “Henry what are you doing?” he gave you a stern look “Up the stairs” you walked passed him up the stairs, your heart pounding in your ears. Taking a left down the hall to his bedroom he pushed open the door. Turning to face him, he backed you into the bedroom slowly, shutting and locking the door behind him.He takes your hand and leads you to the bed, pulling back the blankets and pushing you gently onto the cool, white sheets. You don’t protest. you feel numb, and your limbs are shaking as he pushes you back on the bed and lifts your legs onto it. He pulls off your jeans, dropping them to the floor. your legs shake harder, but he doesn’t give you a blanket. He kneels and spreads your knees, he moves forward and reaches for your shirt. “Do you ever cum?” “No,” you admit, letting him pull off your shirt. “I mean, yeah, but not during.” He nods, reaching behind you and unhooking your bra with no more effort than I’d put in. “From oral?” I swallow hard, dropping my gaze to the front of his pants.

He’s got you naked on the bed, and he’s hard. you weren't wrong about having the same effect on him. Your own heart is racing in your chest, and pressure builds between your legs in anticipation and fear while his eyes move down your body. Your nipples harden under his gaze, and hunger builds as he continues to drink you in with his cerulean blue eyes, lingering on the tattoos on your thigh.

“I haven’t… I’ve only given it,” you say. I don’t want to tell him the truth, that having someone so close to your center makes you more vulnerable than you want to be. So you deflect. “I take care of myself.” “Tonight, I’m going to take care of you,” he says, sliding down the bed in one smooth motion. “Henry, wait,” you protest, but he’s between your legs, pushing them wider. you don’t want him down there, seeing you, smelling you. and even though you showered earlier, you're still self-conscious. No one’s ever been down there, looking at your cunt spread open like a sacrifice. you squirm, but he slides his arms under your legs, wrapping them around your thighs from below. He grabs you right in the crease of your hips, spreading your thighs at the very top. He lifts his gaze to mine, and there’s nothing empty in his eyes now. They’re brimming with heat, with desire. “ I thought you didn’t eat pussy,” you whisper, your thighs shaking in his hands. “This isn’t pussy,” he says. “It’s you.”

He drops lower, and you grab his shoulders, suddenly more terrified of this vulnerability than of an angry Henry. you’d rather him laugh at you , no matter how much it hurts, than have him make you vulnerable like this. “You don’t have to—” My voice catches, breaking off as a shock of pure, erotic bliss rocks through you when his mouth touches you. His warm, wet tongue slowly strokes your clit, and all reason leaves you. All that’s left is the painfully exquisite sensation of his skilled, hungry mouth against your bare flesh. My fingers tangle in his hair, and with whatever bit of brainpower that remains to you, you try to pull him away because it’s too intimate, too much, and this is Henry Fucking Cavill, your best friend. “Just relax,” he murmurs, kissing you gently. “Let you make you as crazy as you make you.” Without waiting for an answer, he dips lower again, letting out a sound that’s half sigh, half moan as his tongue slips between your lips, toward your entrance.

“Don’t,” you breathe, but you barely hear the sound because you are melting, weakening, as his lips and tongue and breath combine forces, overwhelming you. you drop your head back on the pillows, gripping his hair as if it can anchor you to this world even as his mouth moves against you like magic. He explores you slowly at first, tasting and sucking, his teeth nibbling gently at you, his tongue stroking you until you can’t breathe, and your hips start jerking involuntarily against his mouth.

He grips your thighs harder, his fingers cutting into your flesh, holding you still while his tongue moves faster. you let out a soft cry when his rough tongue breaches your opening, rasping against the raw, broken skin. But his mouth is wet, and you’m wet, and soon the burning sensation is too entwined with the swirling pleasure to tell where one ends and the other begins. “Henry,” you gasp. “Stop, it’s too much, you can’t—” He lets out a rough groan and squeezes your thighs harder, opening them wider, his whole body writhing in the bed sheets as he pushes deeper, thrusting his tongue into you until you're dizzy with it. you buck under him, grabbing at the pillows, at anything, because you're going to explode if he doesn’t stop. But he doesn’t stop.

He goes on and on, moaning into you, eating you, until you can’t hold back the soft, breathy cries that have been building inside you with pleasure. He fucks you relentlessly with his mouth, his tongue, until he pushes you over the edge.It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt, not even when I’ve given yourself a good one. This one is different, unwilling almost, as he drags it from your helpless body.

A rush of wet heat flows from you in a way you’ve never felt, and you cry out, humiliation burning through you even as the orgasm clenches you in its grip. He moans deep in his throat, pushing his tongue deeper even as you cry out wordlessly, not sure if you’m telling him to stop or continue, not sure of anything except the waves of bone deep pleasure and release bearing you away on a current that you know will take you over the edge of the world into the abyss of Henry’s darkness, to be swallowed by his world.

When it ebbs, his mouth is still on you but moving slowly, his tongue lazily answering each pulse of your flesh with one of its own. you want him out, in case he didn’t notice how you came, so much it almost felt like you pissed yourself, so much it’s unladylike and humiliating and like everything about you, too fucking much. you made a mess no girl should make, and the shame aches behind your eyes as you wait for the gloating, the degrading taunts. This is Henry. There will be triumphant smirks and bragging that he proved he knows a thing or two about your body after all. He lifts his face at last, his lips shiny, his eyes wild and unfocused. “God, you taste so fucking good,” he groans.

“I want to bite the fuck out of your pussy.” “No,” you cry, shoving at his forehead. He unclamps his hands from your aching things, which will surely be bruised to hell tomorrow. Instead of climbing on top of you as I expect, he braces his hands on your inner thighs and spreads them wide, staring down at you with that hazy, transfixed expression. There’s no way he can miss what you did now. When he leans down, you tense, trying to twist away. “I’m not going to bite you,” he snaps, forcing your legs wide. “Let me lick the cream out of your cunt.”

His tongue is gentle this time, slowly winding a spiral of pleasure deeper and deeper into your core as he laps up the mess of cum from your wrecked pussy until you swear even your heart is quivering for him. When you think you can’t take it another second, he slides a long finger into you. “Cum in my hand this time, baby girl,” he murmurs. “I want to feel you gush again.” Then his mouth descends, stroking you toward an edge you know you can’t come back from. This time, you didn't even try. you let him carry you over.

#henry cavill imagine #henry cavill #friends to lovers #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill smut #henrycavilledit

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metallicaislife · 1 year ago

Text

Dreams

Requested by: Anon

Genre: 18+ Smut minors dni

Word Count: 1,226

Warnings: ouid usage, oral(f receiving), p in v sex, m x f pairing

“Oh yeah.. right there…” Cliff groaned.

I was currently rubbing a knot out of his shoulder. Cliff and I met when we were teenagers. I was alone at a concert and he just started chatting with me. Turns out we went to the same school but he was a grade above me. We’ve been inseparable since. It has always been mostly platonic. I say mostly because there have been a few times I feel like we could be more, but nothing has ever happened.

I pat Cliff’s back twice to indicate I was done. He leaned his head back, resting between my legs as he was sitting in front of the couch.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

“You’re welcome.” I smiled. The urge to just lean down and kiss him was so strong. He stared a second longer before lifting his head and standing up.

“I probably ought to head out. We’re still on for tomorrow night, right?” Cliff asked as he grabbed his jacket.

“Yup. See you tomorrow. Get home safe.” I waved from the couch.

“See ya.” He called out as the door closed.

“Urrgggghhhhhh!” I let out a frustrated noise and hit a couch pillow. Why does he have to be just so… Cliff! Right there and yet completely out of reach. Annoyed, and tired I got ready for bed, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

I rented a couple movies, ones we had and hadn’t seen yet. Movie nights with a smoke sesh and snacks were one of my favorite activities with Cliff.

I heard my door open and I went to greet him.

“Hey Cliff!” I grinned, going in for a hug. His eyes met mine, and there was a fiery glint in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before, as quickly as it came it went away.

“Hey, you.” He said and punched my shoulder softly.

I looked at my shoulder and then back to him.

“You good?” I asked, there was a cute blush rising on his cheeks.

“Yeah.” Was all he said as he pushed past me and into the living room. He went straight to work rolling the joint.

“How’d you sleep last night?” I asked as I collected the snacks from the kitchen.

“What? Why?” He asked sharply as I walked into the living room.

“Your back was bothering you, I was wondering if you slept well or not…” I explained setting down the snacks.

“Oh.” He chuckled awkwardly, “Yeah, uh I slept well.” He finished and put his whole focus on the joint. My eyebrow furrowed. I’ve seen Cliff off before, but this was a new level of weird. I really didn’t know what to think.

“Okay, are you sure there is nothing wrong?” I asked him as I popped a movie into the tape player.

“Yup.” He responded. I rolled my eyes and dropped the subject. I sat next to him on the couch.

Cliff finished rolling the joint and lit it taking the first hit then passed it to me. I inhaled, then blew out coughing a little. We passed it back and forth in silence. Cliff put it out and I pressed play on the movie.

“Okay but is that realistic, would that happen in real life?” Cliff complained. I’d chosen a cheesy romcom, much to his dismay. But it was always fun picking them apart.

“I mean, I don’t know.” I laughed, “Haven’t you ever had your birthday forgotten, then the dreamboat you’ve been crushing on creepily loans his girlfriend to the nerdy guy?” I asked, Cliff laughed.

“Oh yeah, at least twice.” Cliff rolled his eyes, “It would be more realistic if they were best friends, you know actually knew each other, then one of ‘em had a dream about the other.” He said. My eyebrow furrowed.

“Go on.” I said. He turned to look at me, then seemed to process what he had said.

“Ah, nope dunno where that thought process was going.” He straightened up as we had melted together. I sat up turning to him.

“Have you had that experience?” I asked. Cliff firmly shook his head, but he refused to look in my direction. “Cliiiiiiiffffffff.” I said in a sing-songy tone. He bashfully looked over to me.

“We’re high, so you can’t hold anything I say accountable.” He said.

“So what kind of dream was it?” I pushed.

“We were doing stuff.” He said, the blush from earlier in the evening came back to his cheeks.

“What kind of stuff?” I asked him. His eyes flicked up to meet mine.

“We were fucking.” He said, his demeanor changed. That fire that had passed through his features earlier was back.

“Was I on top, or you?” I asked, not breaking eye contact.

“I was.” He answered. His eyes flicked down to my lips and back up.

“Were we kissing?” I asked him. He nodded. “Where were we?”

“Your bed.” He replied.

“Why don’t you show me? I’m more of a visual person.” I said, I have no idea where this confidence was coming from. However I’m not going to blow this chance, I know both of us have been waiting for.

“Are you sure?” He whispered.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I replied. I stood and held my hand out to his. He took my hand and stood. He brought me into him and leaned down placing his lips on mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck. I’ve thought about kissing Cliff hundreds of times. My imagination is dull compared to the real thing.

A trail of clothes led to my bedroom. I was on my bed, legs spread as Cliff ate me out with such fervence. My back arched as I moaned loudly. My fingers tangled in his hair. He groaned against my pussy. He finger fucked me as he sucked my clit until I came writhing against the bed. He kissed up my body until our lips met in a passionate kiss. My hands trailing up and down his back. He groaned into the kiss as he rubbed his dick through my folds. He rested his forehead against mine, his eyes staring into mine as he sunk in. I threw my head back as he found a comfortable pace. His lips attached to my neck as he left marks.

“So fucking beautiful. Taking my cock so well.” He praised me.

“Feels s’good.” I moaned. I wrapped my legs around his waist, he picked up his pace. I screamed as I came for a second time. Cliff came shortly after. He pulled out and rolled off of me, he pulled me with him bringing me into his embrace.

“So much better than my dream.” He muttered as he placed a kiss on my sweaty forehead.

“Don’t be so bashful about it next time, I’m more than happy to recreate it.” I grinned and kissed his chest.

“Noted.” He chuckled as he drew soft shapes on my back. “Have you had any?” He asked. I buried my face in his chest and nodded. “Well then I guess we’ve got some more recreations to get to.” He rolled us back over and nibbled on my neck. I laughed squirming underneath him.

“Let me cool down first.” I laughed. He looked up, his eyes full of mischief. I knew then, I was in for a long night.

Thank you for reading! Feel free to request or chat :)

-Isa

#metallica #metallica x reader #metallica imagines #metallica scenarios #metallica smut #cliff burton #cliff burton x reader #cliff burton smut

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staticl0ve · 2 years ago

Text

Connor x Fem!Reader, (18+), 2k words

Newbies to sex, soft!Connor, friends to lovers, humanAU Warnings: oral sex (m!receiving)

A little something to tide my brain over while I write angst.

(18+)

Sex and Lemonade

Sheer curtains billow around an open window and a fan in the corner is working overtime to make up for the lack of AC in the Anderson home. Hank’s gone on vacation and Connor, ever so dutiful, volunteered to house sit. He invited you over to keep him company in the big, empty house which he thought would be a sort of cute, friends sleepover deal. The problem was, he was thinking with best friend goggles on and had not realized how horribly distracting it would be to have you splayed on his bed with your pretty legs peeking out of a short, flowery dress.

You’re drumming your fingers against a thigh that’s not yours, eyes wide in disbelief. Blue denim runs up Connor’s leg and he’s nose deep in a book that you’ve seen him carrying around all week. A glass of strawberry lemonade rests in your hands. Ice swirls and clacks as you stir the drink with a straw. Water beads down the side of it, dripping down onto your thighs. You’re eyeing him curiously. Connor knows he’s in trouble because his cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“That can’t be true,” you insist.

He’s watching you, mortified as your lips wrap around a straw and he finds himself gulping when you hollow your cheeks and suck. His hand automatically finds the back of his head and he’s fumbling with his hair.

His voice is so quiet, the fan nearly drowns it out. “It is.”

“You’re telling me you’ve never had a blowjob?”

The book he’s holding instantly rises to block his blushing face. His nose bumps into its pages and you’re giggling and all he sees are your fingers pushing it lower.

“Wait, but how?” you press. The bed shifts and you move to rest on your elbows and place your face on his lap. His book gets forgotten, snaps shut and slides off the edge of the bed. He fights to contain the twitch of his cock, brown eyes widening at your placement. You’re oblivious to his struggle, gazing up at him through your lashes with an understanding smile. “In all our years at uni, it’s never happened?”

He’s biting his lip down as he memorizes the color of your lips and the way it glistens in the light. Sweat beads from your neck and down the line between your breasts. And god, it’s suddenly, brutally hot and the fan’s doing nothing to cool him off. Abruptly, Connor lurches forward to reach for his glass of lemonade before he loses his mind. It’s with a shaky hand that he manages to take a swig and place it back on a nightstand.

“I… it’s… n-never come up,” he stammers out. “Either the moment wasn’t right, or my partner wasn’t interested.”

As you let his words sink in, you push your tongue against your cheek and hum.

“I haven’t given one before. So, I guess that makes us an inexperienced pair,” you admit and take another sip of your drink. Your lips part, pink tongue searching for a straw and when you do find it, your eyes close as you let it slip into your mouth.

Connor’s fighting to keep his body in check but he can’t still the blood flooding to his hips. He lets out a small noise but covers it up with a cough. It makes your eyes snap back up at him.

“You okay?” you ask.

“Yes. I-I’m fine.”

“Did you want to try it?”

He thinks he’s hearing things. You guys are childhood friends, he’s been there when you scraped a knee, screamed at ghost stories and have chased each other from sunrise to sunset. The thoughts flooding his mind aren’t ones he should be having about a best friend. Plus, your tone is teasing, like you’re just pulling his leg and want to rile him up. He feels you shift on his lap, cheek pressed inches away from his jean zipper.

“If the situation was right and there was interest, then yes, I’d like to try it,” Connor answers.

“There is,” you offer quietly, as if you’re unsure how he’ll react. You’re missing all of his signals, the deep pink tint on his freckled cheeks and the subtle shift of his hips to reorient the denim over his crotch. “I’ve also… never done it before but it could be fun.” Alarmed, you quickly add, “But only if you want to.”

Nodding is all he’s capable of as he’s certain steam’s leaving his ears. Your eyes don’t stray far from his face and he’s grateful because he’s painfully hard now. The pressure in his jeans grows and you’re still looking at him like you’ve been daydreaming about this as long as he has.

“Connor?” you ask with uncertainty because his small nod was not enough.

“Yes. Please.”

Much to his disappointment, you rise up from his lap, place your cup next to his and sit up to face him. You’re glancing at his lips and he doesn’t waste another precious second. His arms find the dip in your waist, traces the contours of your shoulder blades and he’s pulling you in by your neck to meet his lips. There’s the barest graze of skin on skin, a small ticklish, featherlike touch before he devours you.

Suddenly, it’s all lips, teeth and tongue, soft moans and hair tugs. Connor tastes like sweet, tangy summer and vanilla. There’s the scent of sunscreen, pine and a mysterious third thing that’s always made your best friend smell like home whenever you hug him. Your hands wander over the silky texture of his short brown hair and squeeze the back of his neck. He’s warm and soft on your skin, and you’re thinking you could do this forever as his arms engulf you. You’re so lost in the feel of him that you nearly forget what you’ve set out to do.

“M’sorry,” you say, with heated cheeks and short, quick breaths. “I didn’t mean to make you wait.”

His lips hover close to yours like he’s not ready for you to part. “Please. I need you.”

Your eyes lock as you slide off his lap, palms spreading over his chest. You’re itching to see more of him. Reading your mind, firm muscles flex beneath your hands as Connor lifts the hem of his shirt past his head. He lays back into his elbows and watches you, abdominal muscles tensing in anticipation.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really pretty?” you say.

“Not… often,” he admits, shyly. “I— I’ve always thought you were.”

That makes you grin wide. “Really?”

“Really, really.” For too many years, he’s held his tongue, repressed his feelings. They’re all surfacing now that you’re straddling his lap and he’s picturing what you might look like without your sundress.

You’re stalling a bit because having him under you in these circumstances is a bit unnerving but you’re dying to know if he tastes as sweet elsewhere. Your hands shake nervously when you go to undo his jean’s top button. He hisses in relief as your fingers work their magic on the zipper, freeing his cock from restrictive denim. A beat passes and you hesitate to remove the last barrier between him and you.

“Do… do you need help?” Connor asks. He’s already a mess, brows pinched, lips parted, dark locks splaying over his forehead. You wonder what he’ll look like if this is what he’s like before you’ve even begun.

“I’ve got this,” you answer with confidence. Truthfully, your heart’s hammering in your ears but as you help him pull the hem of his boxer briefs down, your mouth falls open at the sight of him. He’s pretty and pink, thicker than what you’ve seen before and as you gauge his length, you’re a little apprehensive about fitting all of him in you.

He notices your hesitation and offers you an out.

“You d-don’t have to, if you don’t want—”

His own moan cuts him off. Your tongue flicks out, swirling around a smooth, angry red tip, catching a bead of slick on your tongue and his hips jolt. He takes you by surprise, rubbing himself against your mouth like he’s begging for more.

“S-sorry,” he chokes out but it’s all Connor manages he before you’re wrapping your lips around him. He curses from above you, hands balling sheets into his fists because he’s not sure he’ll be able to control his grip. You try to fit more of him in you, sliding his length past your curled tongue until your jaw stings a little from the stretch. Your palms have to grab his thighs as he involuntarily bucks forward, wanting to claim more of your mouth. He means to apologize again but his words die in his throat as you look back up at him.

Dear god, he’s certain he died from heat stroke because you had no reason looking so innocent with your lips stretched around him. Slowly, you hollow your cheeks and suck lightly and he’s lost. A whimper leaves his throat as you start bobbing over him. His hands give up on the sheets and bury themselves into your hair. Feeling encouraged, you move a little faster, rotating your head every now and then so your tongue can lavish the nerves you didn’t catch on your former passes. But Connor’s big and eventually you need more air than his size allows you to take in. He tries not to tug and whines when you pop off of him.

“I-is this okay?” you inquire.

Tears bead at the corners of your eyes, dripping down your cheeks and he’s moving a hand from your hair to swipe it gently across your face. He’s panting and equally out of breath, cock throbbing by your mouth. You look perfect from between his legs, hair a mess, dress straps fallen down your arms. Your breasts have slipped out from the loose material, completing his image of you as a wet dream come true. Your lips are puffy and as your tongue darts out to taste him again, he fights the sudden urge to finish all over your face.

“Baby.” He’s never called you that before and it makes your heart lurch. His voice is gentle, brown eyes sparkling with pride. Connor’s aware that this may be a one off thing between best friends but then you’re back to looking up at him with so much affection and he swears he’s never been happier. “You’re amazing… feels so good.”

His hand squeezes your cheek as you smile and lean into his touch. He’s back to moaning the second you fit him all back into your mouth, only this time you’re feeling much more confident. A light pull at his hips is all the encouragement he needs to move gently. Your hands leave his thighs to stroke the parts of him you can’t reach.

He’s fucking into your mouth at a lazy pace, sliding past your tongue and testing the limits of your throat. When you don’t recoil, and instead push him a little further so your nose rests on his pelvis, Connor lets out a low, guttural sound.

“Mmm… good girl. You’re doing so well.”

You whine around his cock and it makes his hips move faster and rougher. He throbs once more and begins to swell against your tongue. Connor’s a little lost in the moment, eyes clamped shut and hands using your hair and face as an anchor.

“Fuck, fuck. Please.”

You’re not sure what else you can do, but you try to ramp up your efforts, squeezing the base of his cock while pushing him as deep as you can go. His moans become unhinged, a series of sultry ah, ah, ah’s that strikes a deep, empty ache between your thighs. Your name gets stretched into a long shout before he’s shuddering and flooding your mouth with the salty, sweet taste of him.

It’s addicting, causing you to suck a little longer than his overly sensitive nerves can handle. He cries out, gasping your name around a moan. A hand pushes you gently off him and you’re pouting as his cock rests on your cheek. Connor calls to you, lowering himself to pull you in for a kiss. You can feel his moan as he tastes himself on your lips and his hands roam, squeezing your face. Pulling away slowly, he keeps his nose pressed against your cheek and murmurs quietly.

“You taste so sweet with me on your tongue.”

A pair of glasses with a sugary, sour drink sparkles pink and orange from a setting sun. The ice has melted but neither of you are in a rush for more refreshments. You seem content to be held by him, eyes closed and cheeks nuzzling against his. In the corner, a fan spins, lifting your dress past your thighs and Connor’s suddenly, parched.

☀️To Part Two.

💙 Back to the Masterlist.

#my writing #my blurbs #detroit: become human #dbh #dbh fanfic #dbh x reader #dbh smut #reader insert #connor x reader #rk800 x reader #rk800 x you #sex and lemonade #will there be a part two?#who knows

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decks-writing-blog · 4 months ago

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Here to Stay Drabbles: Not a Big Birthday Guy

Summary: I wonder, how would Gordon or Benrey try to handle celebrating each other’s birthdays?

‘Mr. Freeman’s b-day is on the 21st of this month. What do you think we should for it?’ read Tommy’s text.

Benrey looked up from the phone to glance over at Gordon, leading the way down the grocery store aisle with the cart. He hadn’t mentioned his birthday was coming up. It was still more than a week away but still close enough that he should’ve said something about it, right?

He turned his attention back onto the phone. ‘y u aking me?’ He’d never organized any kind of birthday celebration.

‘I was going to suggest we to go to Chuck-E-Cheese again. Do a surprise party like my Dad did for me. But then I thought maybe he wouldn’t like that. So I’m asking you. He’s your boyfriend so you’re closest to him and should know I think.’

Ooh. A party at Chuck-E-Cheese would be fun. Benrey had missed Tommy’s birthday party there because he’d been too busy coming back to life and scrambling to find a way out of Xen before he got stuck forever. But alas, Tommy was right; Gordon might not like that. The only time he’d brought up that party himself had been to complain about it how weird and uncomfortable it had been to go from his life being in danger to that ‘nonsense’. He’d immediately followed up with telling Benrey to not tell anyone he’d said that about Tommy’s birthday party, especially Tommy himself. Tommy apparently had some idea he hadn’t had fun though. Not that that was hard to guess.

But did Tommy have a point about Benrey being the person to ask about what to do instead? While it was true they lived together and were dating, Benrey had never been invited to a birthday party before – he’d crashed a few in the lab offices but none of them had been particularly fun and thus he hadn’t stuck around for long – let alone helped plan one. … He was in a good position to just ask Gordon himself though. So maybe that’s what Tommy had meant; he wanted him to ask Gordon.

Pocketing the phone, he jogged to catch up and then surpassed Gordon and his cart. Before he could protest, Benrey stepped up onto the front of it so that he was riding it while facing Gordon. Facing outward was more fun but it was conversation time.

Gordon let out a sigh as he stopped pushing. “Really, dude?”

“Yeah, really.”

“Okay, fine but I’m not going any faster. The staff here don’t get paid enough to deal with our bullshit if we crash into something.”

“That’s okay.” Their one good cart run had indeed almost ended in a crash. “We gotta talk anyway. Um, your b-day’s coming up soon. Where you wanna have the party for it? And don’t say at the lab, ‘cause I wanna go to it too.”

Gordon resumed pushing the cart with his gun hand now too. “I guess my birthday is coming up soon, huh? I’d actually kinda forgotten it. How’d you hear about it?”

“Tommy texted me. How’d you forget it?”

Gordon shrugged as he stopped them in the cereal isle. “I’m just not a big birthday guy. It kinda stops being a big deal after you turn twenty-one.”

Benrey watched for a few seconds Gordon browsed and selected his preferred cereals. He’d tried a few himself at Gordon’s instance he try different foods, none had appealed to him all that much. “Well, what you wanna do for it?”

“Uh… I don’t know. The last couple years, I haven’t done anything. Before that, I got high and watched cartoons or the year I couldn’t get any pot, got drunk instead. I’m uh… not sure doing either is a good idea with the whole…” He gestured vaguely with his gun hand, currently securely wrapped in the scarf he’d bought for it. “Being inebriated when this thing is part of me sounds like a bad idea. Not to mention all my other problems that drugs and alcohol probably wouldn’t help.” He returned to pushing the cart. “So don’t worry about, ‘kay?”

“But we gotta do something. We could go to Chuck-E…”

Gordon didn’t even let him finish before interrupting. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Damn.” Benrey had expected that though.

“If that’s where you wanna go for your birthday, that’s fine. I’ll go and even try to have fun or whatever. But just… not for my birthday, okay?”

“I don’t got a b-day though.” He hadn’t been born. They’d established that for sure when going through his files.

“Decanting day then, whatever you wanna call it. It’s on April 1st if I recall correctly. Which I’m pretty sure I do since that’s fitting. We already missed it this year but I guess instead of dealing with celebrating mine, we could have a late party for you or something if you want.”

“Ooh, could we?”

“Yeah, dude. Since you’ve never had anyone celebrate your birthday before, we could totally do something. A party with gifts and stuff or we could go somewhere special, whatever you want, dude. And I doubt any of the others will care that it’s a few months late.”

Benrey’s grip on the basket in front of him tightened. It wasn’t the first time Gordon had done something nice for him, far from it in fact, but it still felt like the emotional equivalent of a surprise warm hug. His ‘decanting day’ was months back but Gordon was willing to throw him a party for it anyway because he’d never had one before. … A late party wouldn’t be proper though, would it? Surely not. But… but… he wanted it so bad. Now that he knew it was an option, how could he possibly not want it? Waiting all the way to his next decanting day would take forever.

It had been Gordon’s birthday they’d been talking about though. Benrey couldn’t take that away and make it all about himself. “Maybe uh… we could do a double party this year? Late party for me and on time party for you. Doesn’t have to big or whatever. We maybe don’t even gotta go anywhere. Could have a home party instead.” Benrey wasn’t sure where he’d want to go anyway. The main draw was the gifts, cake, and everyone being together anyway.

Getting all of the Science Team together physically in one place wasn’t exactly rare but with everyone having jobs and their own things going on, it wasn’t exactly the most common thing in the world either. Especially since Bubby had just gotten back from losing his job at NASA a couple weeks ago. So a big double party at home would be great.

Gordon thought about it in silence for a few seconds, his expression soft; he was open to the idea. “I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. So… sure, let’s have a double birthday party at home or whatever. Maybe it’ll even be fun.”

“Sweet.”

#hlvrai #here to stay drabbles #frenrey #hlvrai gordon #benrey

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foreveranevilregal · 1 year ago

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Encantober Day 3: Reunion

“You can let go now.” Bruno squirmed uncomfortably in Pepa’s grasp.

“Ay, but I missed you so much, hermanito.” Pepa squeezed him more tightly. “Can’t I have this moment of joy?”

“Can’t- breathe-“ Bruno gasped out, fighting against Pepa.

“Easy, Pepa.” Julieta placed her hand on Pepa’s shoulder. “His eyes are starting to pop out of his head.”

Reluctantly, Pepa loosened her grip.

Relieved, Bruno took a deep breath, just as Julieta pounced on him.

“What do all of you have against breathing?” He griped, sinking limply into the hug.

“Brunito, we haven’t seen you in ten years.” Alma said, her eyes misty with tears. “Surely you understand.”

“I do, but you won’t get to see me much longer if you don’t let me breathe!” He finally managed to wriggle out of the hug.

Pepa and Julieta looked at him, hurt.

Bruno sighed. “Alright, come here.” He held his arms open. “Ah, one arm hugs. One arm hugs!” He put up his hands preemptively.

This time, his sisters were gentler with him.

Bruno closed his eyes contentedly, enjoying the hug. “It’s good to see you, guys. I missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Suddenly, Pepa pulled away from the hug. “Don’t you ever disappear on us like that again!” She smacked him in the arm.

Wincing, Bruno shook out his arm. “Easy, Pepa. Keep me in one piece.” He covered his mouth with his hand and turned towards Julieta. “I forgot how strong she was.”

Hearing that, Pepa scooped him up in his arms and twirled him around. “Strong enough to pick you up, and don’t you forget it!” Realizing something, she frowned, setting him down on the ground. “Bruno, you’re so light. Have you been eating?”

He shrugged. “I got enough food. Sometimes it was hard to sneak some from the kitchen because someone would always be in there, but I’d get the rats to grab me a few arepas to tide me over.”

“Rats-“ Julieta looked horrified then sighed, smiling contentedly. “It’s over now. You can eat as much as you’d like, and no more rats in my kitchen!”

“What about other animals?” Antonio piped up, eyes shining eagerly.

“Toñito, I think Parce might be bigger than the kitchen,” Félix pointed out with a chuckle.

Everyone laughed.

“Food actually sounds pretty good,” Bruno admitted. “I haven’t eaten since,” he put up a few fingers, counting, “no matter, I’m hungry!”

Camilo’s stomach grumbled in agreement. “Let’s eat!”

“Great idea, Milo.” Julieta nodded approvingly. “I can go get started on dinner.”

“We’ll join you,” Pepa said, joining her side.

Bruno looked between the two warily. “Uh, Pepa’s allowed in the kitchen now?”

Félix shook his head “no” at Bruno but stilled his motion at a glare from Pepa.

Bruno nodded. “So, uh, dinner!” He said brightly. “Let’s go!” He stopped walking when he noticed Camilo examining him through narrowed eyes. “Something wrong, Camilo?”

Camilo gave him a disappointed once over. “You’re so…short,” Camilo pronounced.

Bruno blinked, confused. “Thank you?”

“Camilo!” Pepa whirled on her son. “That’s so rude.”

“You called him short all the time,” Agustín pointed out, becoming the latest victim of her glare.

“That’s different. That’s sibling privilege,” Pepa countered. “Camilo, you can’t say things like that to your tío.”

“Why not? He’s so short.” Camilo blew his bangs out of his eyes. “I thought he’d be like seven feet tall!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, kid. I’m not some kind of boogeyman. Just your regular, everyday tío with a pack of rats at his service.” He bowed with a flourish.

Dolores slid in alongside him. “About the rats…tío, now that you’re finally here…” She trailed off. “Not that you were ever really gone, I could hear you in the walls, you know,” she mentioned proudly as an aside.

Bruno chuckled. “I’m guessing you were the one responsible for the conveniently ‘forgotten’ food left in the kitchen?”

Dolores’ face assumed a guilty expression. “Guilty?” She glanced out of the corner of her eye towards Julieta, who wasn’t paying attention.

Bruno waved off her concern. “Hey, no sweat. You might’ve just saved my life with that, so thank you. So what’s up?”

“Well, since I could hear you in there…” Dolores brushed a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “I heard some of your performances.” Her voice sounded more confident now. “And I am just dying to know what happens with José and María!”

“Oh.” Bruno appeared taken aback.

“Do they end up together? Or does Carmen break them up? What happens next? I need to know!” Dolores squealed, gripping his arm tightly.

“You really are your mother’s daughter, aren’t you?” Bruno shook his head good-naturedly. “Okay, so I don’t have all of it planned out yet, but here’s what I was thinking…”

They walked together as he narrated to her, his words punctuated by excited gasps and squeals.

Eventually, the family meandered inside. The kitchen became a whirlwind of activity, underscored by overlapping conversations. Finally, dinner was ready, and everyone took their places at the table, with Bruno at the head.

Next to him, Alma stood up, raising her glass. “To our family. May we never be separated again.”

Glasses clinked together at the first of many reunited Madrigal family dinners.

#bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #julieta madrigal #encantober #camilo madrigal #dolores madrigal #felix madrigal #agustin madrigal #antonio madrigal #alma madrigal #encantober 2023 #encanto #reunion #foreveranevilregal writes #writing encanto #the important thing is i tried #i had a super long day at work today #please be nice

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narrycherries · 27 days ago

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hi.

well as some of you are probably aware, I have returned from yet again another break. this was actually unexpected and I didn’t realize how long it lasted.

I know I don’t have to disclose everything online, but I feel obligated to at least let you guys know what’s been happening. I have received some messages about when I would be updating different series and such, and I absolutely hate that it’s been so long.

during one of my previous breaks I mentioned that I have some mental health struggles that I deal with. i won’t go into detail again, but I just want everyone to remember that the most important thing you can do in life is take care of yourself, love yourself, & be there for yourself first. this year has kicked the hell out of me over and over again. I really thought I’d never catch a break. from sickness, to near death situations with family, to losing a pet, to processing liam’s passing (which is still very surreal), to death of a family member.. it’s been hard. I had to take care of my self and focus on things in my life. I have somewhat of a better handle on things, and I’m striving to stay focused on positivity, love, and things that make me happy.

writing has always been a way of escaping and clearing my mind, and i am glad to be back. I can’t promise I’ll update every day, but I will try my best to warn you guys if I decide to break off of social media again.

with all that being said, I wanted to wish everyone a happy holiday season. I am not familiar with too many different holidays so I will not list them (in case I say something wrong) but I hope you all enjoy the season! Christmas is my favorite time of year so I’m hoping it boosts my spirits and helps me feel better.

since I’ve been gone a while, I will do a double update for “call it what you want”. I’ll post part 7 tomorrow! (Dec 13) ❤️ love you all so much thank you for the endless support!

(I am also reading through and deciding which requests and ideas I want to write, I haven’t forgotten about that!)

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

#update #social media break #harry styles #harry #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #one direction #harry styles blurbs #harry styles stuff #harry styles fanfiction #harry smut #domrry

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thisnameisnotspokenfor · 1 month ago

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Kingdom of the Stars Chapter 37: The Aftershock

(The title honestly describes my reaction to some of the reading speeds you guys have....oh my goodness....I'm literally crying like my pfp rn)

Previous: Chapter 36

Next: N/A

Time seemed to come to a slow after that as the two sat in silence as the brief rumbling of thunder was heard.

“I won’t,” his promise rang in her ears as the sobs softened. “I won’t.”

Had he meant it? She wished she knew, but she was too afraid to ask, too afraid that at any moment he’d snap at her like the other figures had. Her mind warred with her body that had given in to the small warmth and comfort his touch had provided.

“Don’t get used to it,” Abigail’s voice echoed, as she and the other noble girls appeared. “A promise like that means nothing when he never had a choice to begin with.”

What?

“It’s not that he won’t leave you, ” she explained and rolled her eyes before leaning forward. “It’s that he can’t. He needs your wish to leave, remember? So if it weren’t for that I’d doubt he’d bother sticking around…I mean why would he? Sure he may need you, but he certainly doesn’t want you. Not when he could have better.” She smiled, gesturing to herself and her friends.

“Face it, Asha,” Moireach shrugged, “the only reason why you never wanted him going to Amala’s house is because you knew that as soon as he put two and two together, he wouldn’t even give you a second chance. Not when he figured out the truth.”

The truth? But…

“There’s nothing special about you,” came Mrs. Chidera’s gentle voice as Asha cringed. “In a kingdom filled to the brim with dreams, wishes, and impossibilities you somehow managed to remain the most unremarkable thing anyone could ever come across…and then you still dare to call the rest of us complacent. Well, complacent as we may be, at least our fathers never thought us to be so worthless that we shouldn’t part take in their legacy!”

“Be honest Asha, your father’s legacy…” the queen hesitated as if trying to gather her thoughts before sighing, “ It was never about helping any of us, was it? No, it was just about trying to make sense of your insignificant existence, another one of your pitiful attempts to fit in, right? Because you know that at the end of the day when all is said and done, you’ll be the last person who anyone ever cares to remember. Just like your ancestor Geron. I’m sure he’d be very proud of you~,”

She whimpered, covering her ears as her body trembled. “Please, your highness” she begged. “Just leave me alone!”

“Asha?” Cepheus quietly began as

his grip on her shoulder slightly tensed. “Asha, what’s wrong? Should I-”

“Don’t…don’t touch me,” she hissed, glowering at him as he stared back in shock.

“Oh…alright then…I’m sorry,” he murmured, quietly turning away.

She couldn’t explain why she’d felt so hurt at his simple compliance. She had been the one who demanded that he stop touching her, but seeing the ease with which he’d so quickly removed himself and turned away had her eyes pooling with tears once more.

“Foolish child,” the king’s voice called. “ Did you really expect otherwise from him? The creature has shown time and time that his affection is selective, only ever showing itself towards you when you are alone. Surely you haven’t forgotten how quick he was to yank his hand away from you when your mother had come into the kitchen. The same hand, need I remind you he used proudly to hold that Amala girl in his lap for all to see, and yet he couldn’t be bothered to let one person see you two holding hands.”

She warily eyed the star, who was needlessly flipping through the pages of her storybook. “Let’s not also forget how displeased he was hearing about how you look at him, yet once again such displeasure was never apparent when those other noble girls teased Amala and him…hmm, I wonder why there was such a difference in response from him… Shall we take a guess?”

“No,” her voice trembled, horror filling her as she watched him settle on a page in particular.

“Don’t you get it?” Velius impatiently sneered. “This thing he’s doing for you, it’s nothing more than pity. Just like when the king made you his apprentice and the prince, his friend, and he too will leave you just as they did.”

“I-,”

“Don’t bother defending him. don’t you remember when the queen’s favorite lady-in-waiting died?” She did. The queen held herself together well but the king had never failed to be there for her when it had truly mattered both publicly and privately. The silent yet gentle gazes and the hand touches haunted her. She knew that if the king could, he would've given every wish he had to take just an ounce of his wife’s pain away.

“Do you ever think he could come close to showing such affection towards someone so undeserving? Do you ever think he could stay by your side like how the prince had when Dahlia’s grandmother passed? Ha!” the king’s laughter rang in her ears as she shivered. “You thought you’d been her best friend, but who was the person she’d gone to when it had happened? Do you think you of all people ever once crossed her mind?”

The king’s voice grew sympathetic as he shook his head, “And that was someone who’d known you for at least six years, how exactly do you think someone who’s only known you for a few days is supposed to act?”

Maybe she’d been expecting too much of Dahlia. Just as she’d been doing with the star…

She couldn’t see what he was reading, but judging from his expression, she doubted it could’ve been anything good as he glanced towards the door and stood up. She’d nearly been half tempted to ask what he was doing before she watched him take one step after another.

He was leaving.

So soon? But…he didn’t even say goodbye! She swallowed a scream as she fought every ounce within her being to not chase after him, and plead with him to stay.

“Don’t bother,” Velius threatened as the star paused at her door frame and carefully reached out into the hallway for something. “He’s finally making a sane decision for once in his life.”

She knew that, but that hadn’t given her a reason as to why it had hurt her so deeply.

“Why? Well, that’s rather simple my apprentice,” the king’s voice loomed from behind her. “It was inevitable. Just as you are so pitifully powerless to stop him or anyone else from leaving.”

Asha shivered. The king was right. But that hadn’t made it feel less painful or tragically hilarious. Just a few days ago she would’ve given anything to get him to leave her life as abruptly as he’d entered it, and yet now she would’ve given anything to get him to stay.

But perhaps it was better this way. After all, there wasn’t much she could give a creature of his stature, maybe he-

“Here,” he spoke, holding a plate full of deliciously steaming food forward. The food's scents were tantalizing, and he smiled rather sheepishly, “I think it’ll make you feel better…”

She hesitantly looked from him to the food, and back to him.

There it was, deep within his eyes as he’d looked at her. Pity. So much pity. He’d probably seen her as nothing more than what the king would’ve described as a petulant child throwing a massive tantrum, and maybe he was right. Maybe they both were.

“I didn’t cook it if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She cast him a withering glare, immediately shutting him up as she snatched the plate from his hands before marching towards her window. Without any hesitation she’d pried the window open, only to be somewhat surprised by the face of shocked crows perched on the nearby tree branches who’d looked more like caught children than simple birds.

She hadn’t known they were still lingering, nor could she bring herself to care as she’d placed the plate on her window sill before commanding, “Eat.”

Unsurprisingly they hadn’t needed to be told twice as they’d gluttounously devoured the food as she’d stepped away from the window.

If the star had been upset, he’d done a wonderful job of hiding it as he’d merely stared at the window sill in shock.

“What are you doing?” he called after her as she’d picked up her fallen satchel before fishing out the manuscripts and her father’s journal.

“Something I should’ve been doing a long time ago,” she gruffly answered as she seated herself at her desk, roughly shoving all of her useless astronomy papers and star charts to the side.

How had she let him convince her to take a vacation? No wonder she was unraveling- she’d taken her eyes off the prize, a prize she now knew she no longer deserved or was ever meant to be a part of.

She’d been such a fool, letting herself get so excited over a past world where both man and the supernatural could co-exist. A world that she realized would by all means, she’d never have been a part of. If the stars and astronomer’s influence had been so widespread then who was to say that she wouldn’t face the same rejection in any other country she moved to?

Maybe this was why her father hadn’t wanted her to be a part of his legacy… Not only was she a figure no one would be able to believe in, but she just wasn’t a person who could handle rejection…

“Are…are you working?”

She didn’t answer, watching instead as with each and every letter she’d transcribed her handwriting had nearly become intelligible.

“Asha I don’t think-,”

“Not now Cepheus,” she hissed, dropping her quill as she quietly cursed at her shaking hand. Why couldn’t she stop shaking? She wondered as she stared at her fingers covered in light ink smudges.

“If I wanted your opinion then I’d ask for it…”

“Why are you being so mean to the prince?” came a small voice as her eyes snapped to the child standing beside her. Familiar brown eyes met hers as the child dressed in familiar nightwear stared curiously back.

“He’s not a prince,” she mumbled back, reaching for the spare napkin that sat on her desk.

“He’s not?” the child asked curiously, tilting her small head as her braids moved with her.

“Of course not. Not every pretty boy you see is a prince, and if he were a prince then he’s definitely not my prince. Princes are supposed to fall first, not the other way around!” she sneered. She’d read enough storybooks to know.

“But…you named him Cepheus…”

“So? I only named him because he absolutely refuses to give me his name! He doesn't care about me! He never has and he never will! Life isn’t a bunch of fairy tales where dreams magically come true! So why don’t you get your head out of the clouds for once and start living in the real world?!”

“You’re wrong!” She cried, her voice raising with every syllable as she passionately stomped. “Dreams do come true!”

“Then why did ours never come true?”

The child looked taken aback, blinking briefly before asking, “They…they didn’t come true?”

Asha drew in a tight breath, promptly facing the wall ahead of her as she replied, “No…”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” she could hear the child shuffle next to her. Her mind raced in tandem with hers as she tried to make sense of the revelation. “I just…thought that because Uncle Magnifi-

Asha scowled. Her grip mercilessly tightened on the quill in her hand as she grounded out “Don’t call him that.”

“What? Why not?!”

“Because he’s not your friend!” She snapped to the stunned child. “No one is your friend!”

“That’s not true! Papa is my friend! And Mama! And Saba and Dahlia and, and-,” her voice trailed off as her eyes lowered to her feet, unevenly rocking as Asha angrily sighed, turning back to the desk as her elbow roughly banged against it, causing her ink bottle to rock before tilting and spilling.

“No!” She screamed, scrambling to rescue her papers from the spreading ink. Horror filled her as she took in the sight of Vitrius’s manuscripts partially covered in ink.

She ruined it.

Just like she had ruined everything else.

No wonder the prince couldn’t trust her! She was useless! Completely and utterly useless!

“I-,” her thoughts paused as she glanced towards the now frightened child, frozen in place as she helplessly stared at the ruined manuscript.

“Shouldn’t you be off somewhere being a complete and total embarrassment to your family name?! Get out of here!” She screamed as the child flinched.

“I…I’m sorry,” she sniffled, tears freely flowing from her eyes. Her face crumbled as she began to weep. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as the words cut through Asha’s heart like a knife.

“Asha?” Cepheus’s voice returned. He was still here?! Somewhere through the strange haze of her mind, she could faintly register his movements as he’d taken the ruined manuscripts from her.

It was hard to focus on what he was doing as she bent over, and gasped. Slowly, taking in one deep breath after another as she rested her hand over her heart.

“There we go!” He said after a while as he rested a perfectly restored manuscript on the desk. “All better! See?”

She sniffled, briskly wiping her eyes as she weakly stared at the now pristine desktop. By every account what the star had done was undoubtedly a near miracle.

But for her, she knew that it was just one more sign of how truly helpless she was without him.

“Asha?”

Of course, she needed him to clean up her messes.

“Asha, please say something,” he whispered.

He must’ve been tired of having to deal with someone so…so worthless!

Her eyes focused on the growing tear stains of her skirts as she heard the words slip from her own lips, “I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, over and over as the tears nearly blinded her. Her body shook as she began to cry. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…I’m sorry.”

“Asha!” He exclaimed catching her as she nearly crumpled from her chair and onto the floor. “What's wrong?!”

“Everything!” she cried, clutching at his shoulders. “Make it stop! I beg of you!”

“It?”

“The voices? The tears! The pain! It won’t stop! I can’t take it anymore!” she screamed. “Please I…I’m falling to pieces no matter how much I try! I’m unraveling,” she gasped, her eyes squeezing shut before the idea hit her.

The perfect solution to all of her problems.

“Please,” she started. “….Just wipe me from existence! I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“What?” She hadn’t understood why he’d look so mortified at her words.

It was perfect.

“Yes,” she smiled. “If you make it like I never existed, then no one will ever remember me! And like you said they can’t miss what they never had, right? Without me, my family never has to be ashamed, exhausted, or disappointed! They’d be able to live the lives they always wanted and I wouldn’t have to suffer anymore! It’s perfect!”

“No.”

“No?” she repeated, releasing him as her smile faltered. “What do you mean by no?!”

“I mean that I’m not going to erase your existence like that.”

“Why not?!” She challenged as she rose to her feet. Her body wobbled ever so slightly before she held onto the bed to steady herself. “Is it because you can’t or you won’t?”

“I won’t,” he sharply corrected. “Not as your wishing star, and especially not as your friend.”

She glared at him. Her chest heaved as anger and disgust filled her. And for a moment she hated him, almost as much as she hated herself before she’d felt her strength leave her once more.

“I knew it,” she sobbed and turned away. Her body slipped back onto the bed as she pulled a pillow towards herself. “I knew you never wanted to help me, and that you were just using me for your own ends, just like the king and prince was. It was only a matter of time before you figured out the truth…so you might as well do what everyone else has.”

“What everyone else has?”

“Just admit it Cepheus,” she sobbed into her pillow. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“Admit what?” He asked as he took a seat on the bed next to her.

“That I’m useless and that you won’t stay around much longer and that tonight when you go and see Amala…I’ll…I’ll never see you again.” She cried, trying to ignore the pain that tore at her heart.

“Why would I never see you again?” He asked.

“Why would you want to?”

“After everything we’ve been through together today, you don’t think I’d have a reason to want to see you again? Asha, we're friends. I could know all the humans in the world, but I promise you that there’s no other person on this planet I’d rather be around than you.”

Liar . She kept on forgetting that he couldn’t leave her. So for the time being they were effectively stuck together, which would make it all the worse when they would inevitably part ways.

“Why would you?” She grumbled. “I know you won’t miss me when you go…”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t miss you?”

“Look around Cepheus. I’ve lived in this kingdom all my life, and yet I know that if I ever leave Rosas, no one will miss me when I’m gone. Not the king, not the other apprentices or royals or nobles…and those are people I’ve worked for, for five years. Five years Cepheus! And it meant…nothing!” She confessed as her grip on the pillow tightened. “Why would I expect anything different from you when you’ve only known me for a few days?” she sniffled. “You’re already ashamed of me anyway.”

“Ashamed of you? Asha, I’m not ashamed-,”

“Oh yeah?!” She snapped as she immediately sat up. “Then why were you so quick to pull my hand back when my mom walked into the kitchen?! Or how about the expression you made when Saba talked about the way I look at you?! Other noble girls tease about falling in love with you and you’re nothing but perfectly polite with them but whenever it comes to me you abhor the idea of seeing me as…as…as anything more than just amusing!”

“I don’t see you as just amusing-,”

“Well you’ve got a funny way of showing it,” she huffed. “But go on and tell me that I’m wrong ... .I've heard it all before..”

“I’m not going to lie to you or deny how you feel,” he took a deep breath. “I understand that you have a lot on your plate both mentally and emotionally now. I admit that I’m not exactly the best…listener or talker when it comes to things like this…so You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I want you to be honest with me, please.”

“Honest?” She repeated, anger now taking the place of sadness. “Honest?! Why should I be honest with you?! You do nothing but hide things from me, Cepheus! I don’t even know your real name!” She sneered.

Regret and fear filled her as the words left her and she trembled. “I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” She looked away, as the tears began to gather once more. “if you want to leave now, I won’t hold it against you.”

He looked at her quizzically. “Leave now? Why do you keep saying I'm going to leave you?”

“Because the prince…the king…and you. You’re all the same! You all just keep me around because you need to, but when it comes to the wants or just anything else, it’s like I can no longer serve any purpose to any of you. So you just toss me aside again and again for the next best thing…I can see it in the way you look at those Ischanian girls…it’s just like how the prince looks at Dahlia…” she sobbed. “How can I ever compete with that?”

He looked stunned, “Compete? Sure the Ischanian girls are nice, but why would I do that to you? Asha, we’re friends-,”

“I thought I was the other apprentices’ friend,” she answered briskly. “But as soon as the prince was gone they realized that without powers I wasn’t worth keeping around. Heck, I even dared to think that I was the prince’s happily ever, his friend, and look at how that ended! He chose Dahlia over me just because I’m not as pretty nor as good of a cook as she is. But it doesn’t even stop there! He can’t even trust me when everything depends on it!” She shouted. “The other apprentices couldn’t tolerate me enough even if their life depended on it and the prince…” she sniffled, feeling the tears fall.

“I missed him. I missed him just as much as anyone in that castle did and not once could he think of me when he was gone. He brought everyone else back something but me. He…he treats me like I’m a traitor, Cepheus!” She wailed. “I don’t know what I did wrong! I tried to fix it! I want to fix it! But it’s not working!”

“What isn’t working?”

“Everything!” She cried, staring at her hands as tears blurred her vision once more. “All this time I’ve been trying to tell myself that people who were like you and the king with powers were the problem and that it was the reason why I couldn’t convince anyone to believe in me, and the reason why my father and my Abuela died when I should’ve realized that the problem here…had been me all along.”

“You?”

“Yes! Don't you get it?! Everyone respected my father. They listened to him and liked his ideas all the way up until it was discovered I’d been born without potential. Then everything changed.” She slumped forward, trying not to remember the looks of pity and sympathy the people had given her and her father the day they’d all found out.

Before then, she could always remember hearing their murmurs of excitement at the potential that she could have carried, and how by her father’s and king’s side, she too would’ve been able to bring Rosas to such greatness. But that greatness would never come the day they’d all found out the truth.

She brushed a few stray tears away. “I could tell even though they tried to hide how their interest waned behind their gazes full of pity…” she took another shaky breath as she hung her head, whispering. “I was never worthy enough to follow in my father’s footsteps, not when I was the reason why people lost interest in it in the first place… I ruin everything I touch! My abuela’s music box, my mother and saba’s life, my own life, the wishing tree, the forest animals and it’s only a matter of time before I’ll ruin you too!”

“If I’d been born with magical powers…my father would still be here. My grandmother would still be here. My father's dreams would become a reality and I would actually matter to people. My family would matter…Maybe I’d have more friends too, so I wouldn’t have to always tell my family that it was fine when it wasn’t. Maybe I’d be able to give them the wealth they deserved so they’d never have to work long shifts to make ends meet from time to time. Maybe my family could understand me and they’d be proud of me just like my abuela and papa was…”

“But it seems like no matter what I do, I’m destined to disappoint everyone around me…and how couldn’t I?…all I can do is ruin and waste…and it feels like the world hates me for it.”

“It’s like they think I wanted to be born this way when the truth is, I’d do anything to change myself if I could!” she cried, her fingernails dug into her forearm’s flesh.

“I wouldn’t bother with that if I were you,” Cepheus warned. “Your life is too short to spend it on changing yourself for people you’ll never be able to please.”

She scoffed, further burying her head into her pillow before replying, “Easy for you to say. You’re out there being sought after for balls and princesses. What would you know about being disliked?”

He’d chuckled, not seeming the least bit offended by her words as he’d answered, “Far more than you’d think, that’s for sure. But I do know that when situations are dire for me it’s best to focus on the things you can control rather than can’t.”

“control? Cepheus I’m a peasant who was solely employed by the royal family because of the king’s friendship with my dad who wanted me to have absolutely no part in his legacy whatsoever! What sort of control do you think I actually have?! I can’t control anything not when the king and prince treat me like…like this! I don’t know why they do it either! Well, I sorta do but-,”

He frowned. “Oh and why is that?”

“Because I’m an embarrassment Cepheus,” she whispered as her grip on her pillow further tightened. “Anyone would be ashamed to have me as an apprentice or friend in comparison to everyone else!”

He shook his head, “No, I’m sorry…They don’t treat you like an insecurity. They treat you like a threat.”

“A threat? Ha! You’re talking about two powerful individuals who are destined to rule by the divinely chosen blood in their veins…How could I, of all people possibly be a threat to that?”

“Well, you imply that there are alternatives to total dependency on the king. An implication that if it reached the right audience could be far more impactful than you’d realize.”

“You think so?”

He nodded, “I know so. Then there is the prince, the mistrust he displays is probably a side effect of the court politics between him and the king.”

“But wouldn’t that also impact the other apprentices? The king works very closely with them.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” The star thoughtfully nodded. “But similarities in magical abilities aside, like you said they're nobles. They’re in a better position to leverage themselves out of trouble than you are.”

She sniffled, brushing away a few tears. “I hadn’t thought of that. But I don’t think I’ve been thinking very well at all, lately,” she confessed. “Nothing makes sense to me anymore.” She sniffled, silently drawing in one breath after another before she asked, “Will you miss me Cepheus? When you’ve gone back home in the sky?”

“Miss you? Asha-,” his voice trailed off. “Of course, I would miss you.”

“You shouldn’t,” she angrily sniffed. “ In a world like this, I’m the most unremarkable person anyone could come across…there’s nothing special about me, I have no significant lineage nor heritage, no powers to master nor purpose to serve.”

“You’d really call yourself unremarkable?” He laughed. “After you choked me out today? And tried to judo flip me the day before?”

“Compared to someone like you and the things you can do? I’m nothing . I do nothing.”

“Asha you can’t compare yourself to someone like me. We’re two completely different beings. That’s not a fair comparison!” He frowned before placing his hand over his chest. “Look, take it from someone like me, having powers isn’t always the best thing in the world. At least not in my world. I can’t deny that it does make certain things a bit…easier but it has its disadvantages as well.”

“Coulda fooled me,” Asha sniffled as she buried her head into her pillow again. “People will like and appreciate you more for what you’ve done in a few days with your power than I ever did in my lifetime. The king barely hangs up any apprentice portraits of me in the hallway and when he does it’s always in the most obscure places. Rosas’s best royal playmaker who lives and breathes everything royal didn’t even know I existed. The officials walk all over me because they know they don’t get punished for it! And until now I’ve never been invited to the royal fair like all of the other apprentices!… I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. You’ve taught me that humans can be cruel, self-serving, and defiant!”

She cast him an incredulous glare, “And that’s supposed to be a good thing because?”

“Because before I thought humans were basic creatures incapable of displaying more than 3 emotions at a time. But you shattered that. You taught me that humans were complex, capable of change, and altruism.”

“Altruism?” she sighed, slumping over her pillow. “What exactly about me is altruistic?”

“Well, when you noticed that Julian was running rampant, you risked your own life to save everyone there.”

“Everyone who was in danger because of the star I’d brought there in the first place, yes,” she crossly remarked. “How courteous of me to do the basic minimum of cleaning up a mess that I was the cause of in the first place!”

The star winced, “Alright, but how about the townspeople who were disheartened by the market disaster? You were able to rally them behind a common cause. You gave Lady Allard credit when you knew she didn’t deserve it!”

“To cover my own tracks,” Asha grumbled. “Plus I needed to get time off for my Saba’s birthday, remember? So it wasn’t exactly out of the goodness of my own heart.”

“Okay fair point but you can’t disagree with the fact that Delphine is a noblewoman, who prior to this all seemed to have garnered a reputation for being disliked amongst her community. But now she’s trying to do better because you helped show her just how talented and caring your community was! If this hierarchy of yours is worth its salt, then I’m quite willing to bet that not many who share the same class as you can say they’ve done something similar. And then you granted Miss Nora’s wish for her son to have friends. You had no real reason nor gain to do so, but you did it anyway if only to save someone the pain you’d endured. And then you want me to heal Amala’s grandmother because you know what it’s like to feel that grief! You may not think of yourself as being altruistic, but you have to admit that at least your heart was in the right place for those two situations!”

She sighed “I do see your point. But I don’t think I’m as kind or as strong as you’re making me sound. If I were truly altruistic then I wouldn’t be crying over being forgotten or people not appreciating me. If I were even the tiniest bit strong then I wouldn’t be falling to pieces because people didn’t like me… or that my own father of all people didn’t think I was strong or deserving enough…if I were truly strong then I’d be doing everything in my power to prove him wrong, but…I’m just so tired of it all Cepheus“ she sighed. “I know you’ll disagree with me, and say that it’s only human or natural to want or expect some decency and respect from others, but how can I when I don’t even think I’m…a good person?”

“Why do you say that?”

“a good person wouldn’t be falling to pieces over this…if I were good then….I wouldn’t want things I know I shouldn’t have.”

“Things you shouldn’t have?”

She bit her lip, embarrassment nearly overwhelming her as she realized the hidden implication behind her words. What was she thinking admitting that to Cepheus of all people?

The silence was only brief as she watched the star nod rather understandingly, “I see.”

“See what?!” she snapped. “You see nothing!”

“So you think,” he’d replied with very little resistance as he’d stood once more and opened her windows. “Come,” he told her.

“What?” she asked, glancing from him to the open window. Where to?”

“Anywhere I suppose. I may not be able to make you disappear, but I can give you a distraction.”

“A distraction?” she repeated.

“Just a way to give you some temporary peace of mind, if you will. So how about we pick up from where we left off earlier? Before the assassins, the mobs, and everything,” he sighed, his hand resting on the windowsill as if he were trying to remind himself of those times as well. It was hard to believe how drastically her life had changed in just the span of a few days, she thought as the star smiled. “The night is still young you know, and she’s always kind to those who have a lot on their mind. So,” he took a deep breath and held his hand forward, “Would you give me the honor of accompanying you tonight?”

If she’d had any strength or sense left she probably would’ve argued with him. After all, the whole reason why she’d gotten into this mess had been because she’d been wandering the night and ending up in a place where she shouldn’t have been. But alas, she was tired and with her mind frazzled and unraveling she could do little more than to hesitantly take his hand once more.

Shame and relief filled her as she felt him gently pull her into his arms.

There was something different about the way he held her tonight.

Maybe it had been in His warmth that so graciously greeted her as she felt him hold her in a way that would’ve reminded her of how someone would hold something fragile and delicate.

She sighed, closing her eyes as she felt them slowly ascend into the cloudy night sky above.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You did what?!” the king’s voice rang through the secret corridor. The figures winced, stepping back as green energy snaked across the floor and past them into the surrounding darkness.

Drawing their breaths, several cast their gaze towards the ground, before promptly catching sight of the various pieces of stone hands, feet, fingers, and body parts that littered the room.

“You-,” he pointed a nearly clawed finger towards them. His viridescent eyes cut through the darkness and narrowed as his voice lowered to a whisper. “Had one simple little job.”

He took one slow step forward then another. “Apprehend the girl.”

They took a step back. “Alter her memories,” he whispered as the torch’s flame flickered and lowered as he neared, nearly appearing more shadow than man. “Wipe them clean if you had to!”

His staff eerily glowed a sickly green as the torch’s flames abruptly flickered back to life, illuminating the figures trapped by the wall behind them.

“It was so simple!” he seethed as the corridor’s floor trembled.

“She has no powers. No rank or significance to speak of and yet none of you could even get it right!” he yelled, slamming the floor with the end of his staff as his powers coiled and slithered through the ground once more. Several pieces of statues and stone broke as the king’s power dissipated, leaving the air with a sickly warmth as the figures helplessly looked on.

“Please your Highness-,” a figure started, as the others crouched behind him. “H-h-have mercy!”

The king’s grip on his staff tightened as he tensed. His brows furrowed with thought as he stared at the statue shards on the ground, and then at the headmistress seemingly lost in thought.

Silence greeted them all once more as he walked away. His footsteps echoed through the room as he took a deep breath and leaned against the desk neatly placed near the room’s cauldron.

He took one deep breath, then another as he muttered something before shaking his head. “Idiots. What am I even paying you for?”

“Nothing.”

“What?” he snapped, turning to the only person in the room who could bravely say such a thing to him.

The headmistress shrugged, unfastening the belt around her waist before she carefully placed a small glowing vial on the table. “You’re not paying any of them anything, remember? They don’t even have dental.”

The king huffed. “Well, maybe they would if they were more competent! Dental is not cheap!”

“Bold of you to assume that healthcare should reasonably be tied to meritocracy,” the headmistress muttered under her breath as he rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Does it matter? After everything I’ve been through today with the nobles and the prince whining…don’t get me started on the prince” he warned the headmistress before throwing his hands up and looking back at the hooded figures. “…ugh…Someone, anyone..give me a silver lining!”

“I think we can do better than that,” the headmistress spoke with a content sigh as the cauldron gently began to bubble. “We found it,” she grinned as she gently moved her fingers across the cauldron's surface as its smoke contorted into the shape of a tree. “The wishing tree .”

“You did?” the king asked his eyes glued to the cloud tree that promptly shriveled.

She nodded, “Of course I did. And it was right where we thought it would be. There was a noticeably admirable effort to keep it hidden.” she spoke, as a small cloud arose from the cauldron, taking the form of an all-too-familiar elderly man as the king scowled. “Admirable,” she continued, dispersing the form with a dismissive flick of the hand. “ but not sufficient.”

“Of course,” the king glowered as the cauldron changed from a soft purple to a vivid jade.

“But that’s not all… she shook her head as she withdrew a small map from her robes. “while we were there we stumbled across animals…talking animals.”

“Talking animals?!” the king spat as his face twisted with disgust. “Seriously?”

“Yes seriously…I know…it sounds ridiculous but it’s no doubt a sign of his presence-,” the headmistress warily murmured as her finger lingered over the spot on the map where they had found the tree. “Sabino must’ve shown him the tree.”

“Tree! Shmee! Imagine having the power to alter the very fabric of reality and you just…you just make animals talk! Animals! Who does that?!” he cried, facing the figures who’d promptly shrugged.

“Your apprentice, Dario would,” the headmistress interjected.

“Fair point,” the king conceded with an annoyed nod. “He would do something that pointless…” he shook his head before pointing his still glowing staff towards them again. “But if he knows where the tree is then there’s a good chance he’s already restored it….which unfortunately brings you all back to square one.”

A cool silence filled the air as the figures tensed. The sounds of their heartbeats thundered in their ears as all watched the king aimlessly toy with his staff before looking them over thoughtfully.

“Why the silence?” he asked, as his face twisted with what most would’ve called concern. “You know hypothetically, if the girl were to die, then her family would undoubtedly notice…. Which unfortunately will mean nothing but endless questions…she’s already had the gall to ask me about what she witnessed in the wish garden a few nights ago,” he glowered as the headmistress’s grip on her vial tightened. “Lord knows that it’s only a matter of time before she asks about this too, seeing as you all were kind enough to incompetently leave her alive with her memories intact after the confrontation.”

Tentatively he paced around the room, quietly watching them from the corner of his eyes as the reality of their situation quickly set in.

“Hmm if either court were to find out about you, I doubt it would end well for you” he called, as the figures tensed. “But thankfully that’s why you have me, right?” he paused, looking them over as they promptly nodded in return. “As your king, I will never be afraid to defend and protect you! Even when the work you’ve left me to do is nothing short of difficult! So….it’s only fair that you all at least find one modicum of success while on the field, right?” he asked, sharply pivoting as the tip of his staff pressed against the chest of one of the hooded figures. “ I’m not asking for much, am I?”

The king smiled, listening to the sounds of uneven breaths that filled his ears as the figure did everything in his power to not writhe at the power of the glowing staff. “Hmm?”

“N-no Your Highness,” the figure grounded out as the king stared, watching his body twitch in agony. “N-never.”

“I’m glad you think that,” Magnifico hummed, promptly withdrawing his staff as the man collapsed. “And I take it the rest of you agree, right?” he called to the crowd as they promptly nodded, watching as his silhouette briefly retreated before turning to face them.

“So surely one of you has some semblance of good news, right?” he asked as he rested his foot on the piece of a statue’s face.“Maybe one of you’ve gotten closer to finding it, right? Right?”

As expected, the silence was the only reply he received as the figures’ gaze slowly lingered on the remains of the statue’s face.

“Oh…” A sympathetic sigh escaped him as he looked the still silent crowd over as the statue’s piece began to groan and creak beneath his foot.

“IF there's anything any of you would like to tell me…then speak now…or forever…hold your peace,” he whispered as the sounds of the stone shattering beneath his foot filled the room.

None of them had to speak, not when their eyes pointedly landed on three figures in particular.

Neither of the three-spoke as the king smiled, looking them over as he neared, briskly stepping over the dark remnants of the shattered stone face. “Well?”

“I-I-,” Castor softly whispered before shooting Cladestonia a desperate glance. As expected neither Clandestonia nor Vraden flinched as a strange silence filled the air, and Castor tensed, his eyes briefly lingering on his comrade who still lay on the floor.

“This might not be what you’d qualify as good news,” came the headmistress’s voice, promptly drawing the king away from the three hooded figures before him. “But we confronted the star today.”

“You confronted him?!” the king snapped, as he spun towards her. “Did you engage in battle?”

“Yes,” she nodded and poured her vial’s contents into the cauldron. “And as expected there were some…casualties.”

“Casualties?” he frowned as he stepped back and looked the group over. “Come to think of it there were more of you…weren’t.” his eyes sharply turned back to Castor. “Where is your friend?”

“F-friend?” Castor replied, trying not to shift uncomfortably.

“Yes! You know the big one! Seven feet tall, dangerous, and scarred…would kill on sight! He murdered a few guys last week! Remember?” the king asked as Castor grimaced before hesitantly nodding. “What was his name again?”

“I-,” Castor paused, glancing to his comrades who stared back at him helplessly.

“No don’t tell me, Casper” The king tapped his chin thoughtfully. “It was…Ennecko! You all remember! Good old Ennecko!”

“His name was Inigo,” the headmistress called from behind him in a tongue that no onlooker could decipher.

“Inigo?” the king repeated as his face twisted in distaste. “What type of name is Inigo? See you can complain and call me a lot of things, but at least I had the decency to give my child a good name. Inigo…that’s almost as bad as Dario, Dahlia, and Sirius.” He shuddered, “Ugh…Don’t get me started on that one.”

“Sir,” the headmistress interjected. “Inigo wasn’t the only one lost. Six others perished in the exchange as well.”

“Six more?” he repeated as his brows furrowed. “So you mean to tell me that seven new bodies are currently located on the bottom of one of the rivers? Seven???”

“More or less,” the headmistress shrugged.

“Of course,” he sighed. Flicking his cape, he neared her and promptly asked in the olden tongue. “You don’t suppose it’s going to take long for them to decompose?”

“Not more so than usual. No. But either way I doubt their bodies will be any more indistinguishable than from what’s already down there,” the headmistress replied as he smiled, watching as the figures helplessly exchanged glances over the conversation they’d never be able to comprehend.

“But seven casualties…“It’s a pity he couldn’t have made it ten…” he murmured, as eyes landed on the silent trio before quickly speaking in Rosarian as he looked around the room. “I suppose you all need time off to go lick your wounds and whatnot, don’t you?” he sighed taking in the silence before he sat down. “Very well then….You are dismissed.”

The figures said nothing, but the king could see from how the tension left their shoulders that they were shocked that they were still breathing. But they knew better than to ask, as they offered one final bow before swiftly departing in the shadows.

“Hold on a minute!” the king called, as the figures tensed. “I still need to talk to you three-,” he gestured to the trio. “Yes, you. The rest of you can go.”

He hadn’t needed to say it twice as the remaining figures cast the trio a sympathetic glance before quickly collecting their still-unconscious comrade and departing.

“How have you three been?” the king asked, with a brilliant smile as he promptly broke the trio’s attention away from their fleeing colleagues, before taking a seat. “I feel as if it’s been a while since we’ve last had a chance to chat like this, hmm?”

The three nodded. Castor’s gaze briefly rested on the headmistress who’d seemed perfectly content on ignoring the conversation in favor of the still bubbling cauldron before her.

“How goes the search?”

“Not well your Highness…” Castor carefully added, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “We lost contact with the last squad we’d sent out there.”

“So that’s what? Four more casualties in addition to the seven that have happened today? So eleven of you have died. Eleven.” the king’s smile disintegrated as he stared at them. “You know…Training those spies wasn’t easy nor was it cheap.”

Cladestonia nodded, bowing her head as she placed her hand over her heart in an act of penance. “I know your highness, and I will take full responsibility for it in any way you see fit.”

Castor could barely swallow his horror as both he and Vraden exchanged glances.

“How admirable of you, Estonia,” the king pleasantly smiled before waving his hand. “But you needn’t do that. For you see, after all these years of searching and studying her, I know better than anyone just how stubborn that forest is…She always does everything in her power to ensure we never get close. No matter how many bodies you throw at her or paths you create, as long as there is still life in her roots…she’ll never give up The Heart…but unfortunately for her,” He glanced back at the headmistress who nodded. “I am not one to be so easily dissuaded…not when I have fate on my side…. .” the king smiled, reaching for the familiar package his foolish apprentice had given him a few days ago.

“Shall we try again tomorrow, Your Highness?” Cladestonia asked as she warily eyed the package in the king’s hands.

He shook his head as a book appeared in his hands.

“Don’t bother,” he frowned, looking over the book’s pages. “With that thing here your search in that worthless forest has been unfortunately….compromised….But in the meantime, no one is to make any attempts on her tomorrow.”

He must’ve seen the looks on their faces as he calmly continued, “I have reason to believe that thanks to our dear princeling, she’ll be at the fair anyway. She and her…guest that is.” the king’s eyes met theirs.

“Of course, you know I can’t stop any of you from attending or enjoying the fair…” he smiled as he stood to his feet, faintly feeling a cool breeze pass through the corridor. “but d o keep a lookout for anything strange, alright? Things never have a habit of staying buried for long in Salcona.”

“The forest is beautiful tonight…” the star sighed as the sounds of crickets and toads chirping filled her ears. His glowing fingertips grazed the edge of a nearby vine as slowly but surely the forest around them began to glow as if new life had been breathed into it.

“It is,” she sighed, neglecting to look at the forest behind her as she huddled upon the rock firmly embedded near the forest’s edge.

The pain within her heart had long since dulled, leaving in its wake a strange mixture of embarrassment and guilt as her words to the star had replayed in her mind over and over.

What had she been thinking?! Asking him of all creatures to do that?! It had only been a few of the questions she’d asked herself as she saw the distant fire towers.

“Hey, Asha do you want to try some?” The star’s voice came as he suddenly appeared in front of her.

She’d be lying if she’d said she wasn’t at least partially surprised to see Cepheus back in the outfit she’d seen him in when they’d first met, seemingly a lifetime ago. Save for his newfound claws and longer hair he’d looked nearly identical to back then.

“Honeysuckle?” She asked, cautiously taking the plant from the star. “Were you…foraging?”

“Yep! Sorry it took me a while, but they’re so small that you usually have to find a bunch of them just to taste it!” He plopped a dark berry into his mouth as she looked on in horror. “What? I thought you’d prefer it to my cooking-,”

“No no Cepheus it’s not that! It’s just…I don’t think you should be eating those berries- they’re probably toxic and-,” her voice trailed off as she watched Cepheus slowly swallow.

“They’re toxic?” He didn’t sound worried. Of course, he wouldn’t be.

“To humans at least,” she sighed before tenderly massaging her temples. How in the world had she nearly forgotten that the semi-glowing being in front of her was anything but human?

“Are the towers always lit like that?” asked the star’s voice after a moment of silence.

“Only when storms are approaching,” she replied, somewhat surprised to see them all burning so brightly together tonight but as she said, it was to be expected given the possible storm that loomed on the horizon.

“Hmm,” the star hummed thoughtfully as she heard branches break. “It’s almost like they’re arranged in a pattern of some sort,” the star thoughtfully spoke as he glanced at the flickering towers.

“They probably are,” Asha sighed. “Seeing as how Lord Vitrius was around when the astronomers named the place, I wouldn’t be too surprised if someone like him with a cartographic background had a hand in designing certain landmarks like this….”

The star was silent momentarily before asking, “How much do you truly know about Tau Vitrius?”

“Not much,” she confessed. “But yesterday the prince had given me his manuscripts that he’d obtained while in exile. He thought there was something more to them than what met the eye, given how hard Vitrius had tried to destroy them before he died. I did some digging about him in the library and ended up stumbling across his journal….I couldn’t find much on the manuscripts, but I know that he was my father’s master, and he wanted him to find something before he suspiciously departed Rosas.”

“And have you found it?”

“Found what?”

“The thing that the prince wanted you to decipher?”

“Ha!” she scoffed and waved dismissively. “How could I when he doesn’t trust me enough to be fully transparent? He must’ve been insanely desperate to have gotten me involved in the first place given how he couldn’t even be bothered to bring me back any sort of gift! And I mean, I know it sounds insanely entitled given the circumstances and what he went through, but I can’t help but feel as if the prince himself never really placed any true meaningful value or thought into our friendship… come to think of it, maybe none of them ever did…”

“Even Dahlia?”

“Yes? No?... Uh, I don’t know!” ” she scowled as she drew her knees to her chest.

She’d let the conversation lapse into silence as her eyes remained solely focused on the distant lights of Banquo.

The city looked lively tonight, probably with what she suspected to be the last-minute preparations for the fair tomorrow.

“Asha?” Came Cepheus’s voice. “Are you feeling better?”

Yes, she could already feel the words forming on the tip of her tongue as they’d done so many times before. ‘I’m fine. Everything is fine. Everything was always fine, wasn’t it?’

So why couldn’t she put herself back together?

Even in the worst of times, she’d always been able to pick herself up and put the pieces of her heart back together. Maybe her fixed heart had never quite perfectly resembled what it had been before, but at least it had looked similar to a heart, or what she’d thought had been acceptable enough to pass for one even with all its cracks and fractures.

But this time, she wasn’t quite sure what it would look like if she’d ever been able to put it back together…nor was she certain that it would ever be good enough….

Nothing was ever good enough…

Not her, and not her heart….

“I…I’m sorry,” she began as she feebly wiped her tears. “I know you’re trying to help me, and I really appreciate it, I just….I don’t think I’ll ever feel better…I don’t know how,” she confessed, staring at her lap as the tears began to blur her vision. “I don’t know anything…not about my family, my home, and or even myself…”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

She shook her head, unable to give voice to the strange yet selfish desire that had begun to eat away at her. She didn’t know why she would feel that way over a boy, a being she’d only known for a few days… but she had a sinking suspicion that it had been because of the way things had been going.

In the past few days, Her life had undeniably fallen apart and with every crack and rupture that had appeared, she’d only had one person or place to turn to.

She shook, trying to ignore how cold the passing breeze felt as she tightly tugged at her tear-stained skirts.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there in silence before he’d suddenly stood up. She’d nearly asked him what was wrong when he quickly unfastened his cape from his shoulders, before gently placing it on hers.

The warmth immediately enveloped her as she dumbly watched the star look her over once, not twice, with a rather pleasant smile before re-taking his seat next to her.

Had he just? No, he couldn’t have-?! She thought, staring at the beautiful glowing cape that now adorned her shoulders as the star laughed.

Had he really just given his cape to her so nonchalantly?! She could scarcely believe it as she took in the sight and feel of the cape, taking note of the cape’s smaller details of constellations and clouds that she’d failed to notice before.

Calling the cape beautiful was an understatement, she thought, feeling somewhat grateful for the protection it had now put between her and the wind.

She knew she should’ve said thank you, or at least something to the star who sat beside her, more focused on Banquo than anything else, but as her heart began to race she had no choice but to sink within the cape’s warmth, muttering a garbled thank you that not even the star would be able to understand.

She wasn’t sure how long they’d sat there in silence before he’d spoken again, this time to ask,

“Asha…Have you ever been to any other countries?”

“No…It’s too expensive…” she confessed, trying to ignore the pang of jealousy she felt as she remembered how frequently the royals and nobles used to travel. “But I’ve always dreamed of going to Corona. For a time I even thought about becoming a diplomat just so I could have an excuse to get a change in scenery…”

“So why didn’t you?”

“I wanted to focus on my father’s work instead…” she confessed, as she stared at the cape’s patterned edges. “it made me feel as if I’d gotten to see a side of him I would have seen if he’d never passed…or what he would’ve wanted me to do if he’d survived…I just…can’t believe he wouldn’t have wanted me to be a part of it…I thought if there was anyone who’d always believe in me then it would’ve been him…but now…I’m not even sure anymore.”

The star frowned, leaning back as he tilted his gaze towards her. “I can’t speak for your father, but maybe his request had come from a place of concern rather than disappointment. Remember he was as much of your father as he was an astronomer, and with the order probably well gone by the point you’d enter into his life, you’d probably taken top priority to him. So thinking of it from a parent's point of view, why would he want you to live The life of an astronomer, one that has never been particularly easy nor 100% safe, even at the height of their power? If something had caused the order to collapse surely he wouldn’t have wanted you to be caught up in it as well…”

“I guess…that does make sense…” Asha slowly nodded as her grip on the cape loosened. “but what exactly am I supposed to do without his legacy? Everything I’ve endured and put up with was because I always told myself that it was for a greater purpose, that I had a greater purpose! It’s the only reason why I was able to get an apprenticeship in the first place or even get the manuscripts to learn about Tau Vitrius from the prince! It was all because people thought I was destined to follow in my father’s footsteps, and I was fine with that! I could live with that! But now I see that in this world with people like the king and beings like you I have….nothing to offer…for anyone…”

“I wouldn’t say that-,”

“Why not?”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve depleted all your options. You’ve been stuck in the same role for five years…You know your life is too short to not expand your horizons, Asha.”

“Is it?” she asked as she stood up and began to pace. “What point is there in moving elsewhere? People from all over love and admire the king and his powers. Once they figure out I’m his useless former apprentice I doubt they’d even bother entertaining an introduction. There’s just no place in this world for me or my inventions.”

“Then why not look elsewhere?” he asked as she came to an abrupt halt.

“Elsewhere?” she stared at him in disbelief. “Cepheus where exactly can I look? The royal family has been all over the world for recreational or job-related affairs, and every time they return they tell me just how much the world appreciates their powers and whatnot. How exactly am I going to compete against that?”

“Maybe you don’t have to compete…” he shrugged as he stood to his feet and neared her. “Have you ever thought about going to outer space?”

“Outer…Space?” she frowned, risking a glance at the star. “Cepheus that’s not possible-,” Her voice trailed off at the teasing expression on his face before she promptly shook her head.

“Fine. Cepheus that’s not practical.”

“Why not?” he frowned. “We’ve taken astronomers up to space before and things were perfectly fine.”

“Astronomers?” she scowled. “I’m sorry you mean the same group of people that my own father didn’t want me to have anything to do with regarding his past with your kind for best case scenario my safety and worst case, because of my incompetence?”

“Well sort of, but your mother said that he never had an issue with you studying the art of astronomy-,”

“Yes, but not the actually important part that involved your world remember?”

Cepheus leaned back, his eyes nearly lost in thought as if he’d been contemplating something before he shook his head. “I thought you wanted to help me restore the order? Didn’t you want to be a part of it?”

She had. God knows that for some insane reason, a small part of her had wanted to. But could she take that chance given what she knew now? Knowing that she wasn’t supposed to be a part of his world? No. She couldn’t.

“I told you I was a selfish person Cepheus.”

He shook his head. “You’re a lot of things but I wouldn’t call selfish one of them.”

“Alright then,” she huffed. “Since you know me so well why don’t you tell me- what am I?”

“Defiant.”

“Defiant?” A strange laugh escaped her as she stepped back from the star. “What in the world makes you think that I, of all people, am defiant?!”

“I think that even though you and so many others tell yourself that you don’t deserve better, you don’t truly believe it. If you did then you wouldn’t want things to change. You wouldn’t hate yourself for not being able to accept it or berate yourself for feeling that you weren’t good enough. You wouldn’t want more for yourself and others, and you know that, don’t you? That wish in and of itself is defying the very concept of the strict structure that your society seeks to perpetuate. But the people around you that’s become your world, have done nothing more than disappoint you over and over again so much that you can’t help but fear what would happen if you were to take that final step to leave it all behind. But you know it’s there, right? Calling to you to take that final leap…”

Shame filled her as she found herself unable to particularly answer before he continued, “In the king's perfectly crafted world of order you’re the entropy he fears. The one he’s tried so hard to convince the world never existed and that’s why he hates you for it.” He grinned an expression that had failed to match his words. “If I were your king, I’d be terrified of you.”

“If you were my king, I think I’d be a little more than defiant,” she grumbled, earning herself a rather hearty laugh from the star.

She hadn’t exactly been joking, but hearing his laughter was a nice change of pace, she’d thought as she smiled in spite of herself.

“I just don’t understand why you would make it sound like a good thing….” she sighed as his laughter died down.

“Isn’t it?” he smiled. “You’re a far more interesting woman than you think.”

Interesting. That was hardly a step up from amusing in her book. In fact, she wasn’t really sure what to make of it- would it have killed him to call her enchanting or tantalizing?! Eh, given what he’d said about the anti-love rules, probably…

But she couldn’t help but feel as if the star were studying her…for what and why was beyond her…perhaps he was still trying to figure out what to make of her.

‘Him and me both,’ she mentally sighed before wrapping the cloak around herself.

“Still…I can’t just up and leave my family like that…I’ve already given them enough problems as is and besides the culture and history of my family’s past and present are permanently ingrained into these lands….if I went to space with you. I could never come back here…”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

She took a deep breath.

What was the point of keeping all these secrets from him? If he’d ever had something of an ulterior motive then what could she do to stop him? Yes, she knew in the past she’d kept all those secrets from him out of a sense of shame and possibly responsibility given her…father’s job. But with all that gone, why even bother? He was bound to find out the truth at the fair which she was admittedly in no state to attend.

If anything it was better to tell him now, so she could at least prepare him.

“Cepheus there’s something I need to tell you…” she slowly started as her hands nervously fidgeted.

“This kingdom, its monarch and its people…in its infancy, it was believed that when our king gained the power to grant wishes, that it attracted attention from elsewhere and monsters descended from the skies. Monsters that only the king could defeat and keep the wishes safe from….and ever since then nearly everyone in this kingdom has had a negative view of stars…

“A courtesy of the king’s imagination, I guess,” he sighed.

“Yes….” she paused, taking in the distinct lack of surprise on the star’s face. “did…did you know?”

“I mean, sort of? Yes?” he tentatively shrugged. “But in my defense, Velius’s rambling, the king’s law of power exclusivity, and even the entire concept of the wish gardens leave very little to the imagination.”

“You knew about the wish gardens?!” she exclaimed. “How?!”

The star hesitated, nearly looking embarrassed and guilty before he admitted, “When I granted Julian’s wish he was still lurking around it.”

She gritted her teeth. “I meant to tell you sooner, I really wanted to, given how deeply ingrained those sentiments were into our culture but I just didn’t know how, not when I was the reason why you’d ever be stuck in a place like this…” She shook her head. “You didn’t see them, did you?”

“See what?”

“There are several murals scattered around the kingdom, each depicting a battle the king underwent while protecting Rosas from…you know…so I just wanted to warn you about them in case we see them tomorrow…”

“I see…well…” the star started after a moment or so of silence. “I appreciate the warning Asha…”

She cast him a wary glance, unable to fully make out his expression as he stared at the cloudy skies above. “Maybe you shouldn’t go….”

“And let you roam around a new place with more possible assassination attempts?” he shook his head. “Not likely.”

“Cepheus! Didn’t you hear Velius? OR anything I just said about the kingdom’s culture and viewpoint on stars? Someone knows you’re here in Hamlet, and they’re actively looking to find you. Not to mention that The king’s going to be unveiling the final mural soon for this thing he claims is going to be the ‘new era of Rosas’, so if there was ever a time for the nobles and common folk to be completely insufferable about the topic, then it’s now!”

“Final mural?” the star repeated. Now he sounded curious.

“Yeah, he claims it’s depicting the most vicious star he ever fought.”

“Did he say the name of it?”

She shook her head, “No, but come to think of it, none of the stars he’s ever defeated in any of the murals have ever been explicitly named, none save for…Alderamin.”

“Alderamin?” the star snorted. “He told you he beat Alderamin? Did he do it with a straight face or was he crying?”

“Well he didn’t tell us himself, but the royal playwright who usually gets all of his content approved by and tailored to the royal family made a whole musical number and play depicting the ordeal…”

“Was it good?”

She grimaced. “The song was admittedly catchy, yes, but I don’t think it’s going to be a tune you should be eager to listen to.”

“Fair enough!” the star happily beamed to her confusion. “But you know, the more I think about it, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that you just so happened to receive an invite the moment I entered your life, do you? I mean the invitation did say that they were looking forward to seeing you and your guest, as in singular and not ‘you and your family’ or ‘you and your guests.’ They’re expecting you to bring someone in particular Asha, and I have a feeling that if you don’t, they’re not going to take too kindly to my absence.”

Great. So she was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. What was she going to do?! At the rate at which things were going, she’d be lucky if the king banished her before the yearly storms rolled in!

But come to think of it, the star did have a point… The timing was oddly strange as was the wording… She hadn’t known just when, how, or why they’d put the puzzle together to figure out something was amiss with Cepheus, but she was more certain than ever that this wouldn’t end well for anyone, save for the royal family.

She drew in one shaky breath after another as she forced herself to remain calm. “Cepheus…If you go to the festival tomorrow, will you be alright?”

“Asha I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse remember? If I die, I promise you that this fair won’t be the cause of it.”

Ah right…the trials…but the way he’d said; ‘ if I die’ had bothered her. But it hadn’t been enough to keep her from asking, “Die? Do you mean as in say the king killing you? Could a human ever do that to a star?”

He frowned. “Stars may be immortal but we are alive and as such we too can die. But unlike humans or most creatures we do not find or gain any reprieve or closure in death….” his voice trailed off as the sounds of the forest filled the air once more.

It was nearly insane to think that the king, and to some extent, maybe even the prince had been telling the truth. But what else had they been right about? She was too afraid to find out…

“Why didn’t you believe?” the star asked, breaking the silence again as he turned his eyes towards Banquo.

“What?”

He turned his darkened eyes towards her. “Why didn’t you believe in your king…your master’s past trials and tribulations? You seem to be a rather staunch defender of his benevolence and positive contributions to society…so why draw the line there?”

“It’s not as interconnected as you think…I’ve always found stars to be beautiful and well…fascinating. Both in their contribution to mythology and science, so growing up, I could never quite believe all those stories about them being bloodthirsty monsters, prowling in the heavens, and eagerly awaiting the day to seek revenge. I mean, how could I when every night without fail they’d decorate the night sky, offering guidance to any wayward soul?” she asked, looking towards the cloudy skies and trying to imagine the stars from above looking down at her. “It’s how my father told me he found the land that would soon become Rosas when they’d first lost their home, and it’s how my ancestors on my mother’s side were able to always make it home even on the darkest of voyages around the world.” She took a seat once more and sighed. “I’ll be honest with you, do I give the king too much leeway at times? Yes. But you have to understand, he was my father’s best friend. When he died, he was the one who looked after us… so slandering him feels like I’m indirectly slandering my father.”

“Your grandfather doesn’t feel the same way-,”

“Ha! He never does, why do you think he’s always praying to our ancestors and whatever else he believes in for luck? The same ancestor who wanted nothing to do with your people or the order! Even when you guys were trying to help us! But you can’t ever make my Saba see it that way. Nope. He's always complaining about his bloodline this, and bloodline that, but if he really cared then he’d be honest and open about the past.”

“The past, huh?” the star murmured as he sat beside her. “I know you said that your father and grandfather didn’t see eye to eye on the matter, but how exactly did they end up back in Rosas’s predecessor if that’s what your ancestor didn’t want?”

“I don’t know, but I think it has something to do with that mistake Velius was talking about…but I doubt my grandfather would want to talk about it…he’s always been vague about the past…but come to think of it…everyone has…all I know is that my family was something of an outcast long before my grandfather was born…and I think Geron is to blame for it…”

“Why would you blame Geron? I mean sure he didn’t do anything wildly significant but nearly every iteration of that story can agree that he was more or less a neutral figure.”

“See and that’s the problem!” she cried as she stood. “He’s insignificantly neutral! How does one person involved with raising not one but two kings end up being forgotten by history? Especially when he served as an advisor to one of them! But I think I know how,” she scowled. “When humanity was making progress in Atlantis’s absence by forming the order, all he could do was run away….But that’s it, isn’t it? History is repeating itself….my father, just like Geron served as an advisor to a powerfully remarkable king, but what exactly do they have to show for it?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call Erlan a remarkable king,” Cepheus quietly interjected. “But given that I am something of a blue star, it could just be my bias speaking.”

“You don’t like Erlan?”

“I tolerate him more than most blue stars,” he shrugged. “The Apsuramal despises the very thought of him though. He sided with the star who shattered the ancestor of the Cerulean court.”

“Wait- but I thought you said that you weren’t related to the Heart of Atlantis? Now you're telling me that it’s the ancestor of all cerulean stars?”

“Uh…It’s complicated,” the star nervously smiled before quickly adding, “and in most iterations, it’s believed that Erlan’s forces had been the cause of Atlantis’s destruction but blamed it on the ancestor to not invoke the wrath of the remaining blue stars…a notion the Cerulean court couldn’t take well, not when they believed most Atlanteans to be something akin to star bloods.”

“Star bloods?” she whispered.

“Yes. There was believed to be something of a tight, maybe even blood bond between the Apsuramal and the Atlantean queens, one that most suspected was the cause for the relationship between the old kingdom, the order, and the cerulean court never being quite strong as it should have been…but it only worsened with each passing millennium.”

Huh…maybe that was why Magnifico had never exactly liked the cerulean court…but still… ”I never would’ve guessed, given how Vitrius and Deneb seemed to be on good terms.”

“Ah, you know about those two?”

“Yeah, my Dad mentioned them in his journal…Deneb had summoned them to visit when she’d recruited my father to be Sirius’s astronomer…I don’t know if he ever took the job or not…”

“What did you say your father’s name was again? Was it the same one he had while working for the order?”

“I….” her voice trailed off. “I don’t know…I used to think that I knew him better than most people did….but now I’m not sure…” she sighed. “but all I know is that near the beginning of his tenure within the order, he became Vitrius’s protégé…and then he’d somehow ended up being entangled within Sirius and Polaris’s affairs…” She winced as the star’s face paled. That couldn’t have been good. “I don’t know how it ended, but he was worried about the crimson court coming after his family…so much so that now I can’t help but wonder if my lack of powers was the culmination of some sort of curse that they’d placed on him! Think about it Cepheus, I’m the perfect obstacle to his legacy!”

“Eh…” the star slumped as hints of color returned to his face. “Not to discredit your father or anything but I doubt that.”

“You doubt that?!” she stammered. “Why?”

“Well for starters, the solution to said problem is rather pitifully easy. If you’re so worried about your kids inheriting your lack of powers, then why not have a child with a man or being who has an abundance of them? Powers are a hereditary trait, and given your father’s connections to high-ranking stars I’m more than confident that he would’ve been able to make this happen.”

She fervently shook her head. “Not if the crimson court took out the order first! Or severed the connections between our worlds!”

He shrugged, still not looking too convinced, “Possibly but all that work for just one astronomer is pointlessly petty. Even for them. Look, I’m pretty sure that if the crimson court had cursed him then I don’t think the curse would’ve been that….passive per se.”

“Oh yeah? Then explain to me why red-crystal-wearing assassins who utilize their powers chasing after us?!”

He narrowed his eyes, as all notes of humor and laziness within him died. “...What did you just say?”

Oh…oh…she messed up badly, didn’t she? She’d been meaning to tell him about the Crystal but between the assassin’s encroachment on the tree and her family’s plan to move, she’d had little courage to be forthcoming with this information.

But it was too late now.

He’d already been trying to get her to contemplate leaving, but now she was certain he’d force her.

She trembled. “T-The one that fell into S-salcona was wearing a red crystal around her neck…I didn’t know if any of the others were wearing one, so I didn’t think much of it until I’d heard they’d poison the tree…I…I’m sorry for not telling you this earlier…but…I was afraid!”

‘Idiot,’ her mind hissed. How could she have been so incompetent?! He was probably furious that she hadn’t brought this up sooner. Fear wasn’t a viable excuse here. Not when time wasn’t on their side.

She shrunk, waiting for any signs of anger or movement. She didn’t want to know what an angry Cepheus would look like…

Maybe he’d start yelling at her like the king, or pity her and distance himself from like the prince, or speak hurtfully like her Saba or- or-

“Asha?” Came the star’s voice as she felt him gently grip her shoulders. “Asha, what’s wrong?”

Everything . Her mind had whispered as her eyes nervously met his. “You’re…you’re not mad at me?”

His jaw slightly slackened. “Why would I be?”

“I mean everyone else is, so why not you?” She grimaced as she took note of the lack of laughter coming from the star.

Cepheus didn’t look annoyed or exasperated…no he looked worried and concerned…the type of emotions she should’ve expected from someone who’d swam to the bottom of Salcona for her…

Come to think of it He’d done more for her in a few days than the king and prince had done in years, so why couldn’t she see him like that? Oh…she knew why…

“I’m sorry Cep-,”

“Don’t apologize…”

“Why not? Look at all the terrible things I’ve said to you lately. You’ve been nothing but helpful to me and yet when I look at you…when I think about you I just…I just get so scared that just like everything else it will all mean nothing! I don’t even know why I think that! It’s so illogical but I can’t help it! You were the only person in my life who actively helped me uncover my dad’s past! But now I can’t help but feel like I let you down most of all…”

“Asha you didn’t let me down. You didn’t let anyone down. Anyone in your place with your knowledge would’ve done the same thing. Regardless of what we know now, at the end of the day, he was your father and I can’t fault you for being the least bit curious about him.”

She lowered her head, thinking it all over as the breeze gently pushed her braids. “Do you think he should’ve kept it from me?” she whispered. “That he shouldn’t have wanted me to get involved?”

He sighed. His grip on her shoulders ever so slightly loosening. “I can’t give you a fair answer on that Asha.”

“I don’t want a fair answer!” she cried as her voice broke. “I want your answer!”

The star grimaced, “then no. I don’t think he should’ve. But I can’t lie that the history and conflict surrounding his star connections would’ve been enough to leave anyone reasonably cautious. Maybe your father thought that, and if he did then I think you at least deserve to know that much…”

He looked at the surrounding trees, before tentatively laying his hand on one. “I suppose it’s best if we start from the beginning then.”

“What…what do you mean?”

“A deal is a deal isn’t it?” She hesitated, feeling his eyes examine her before he gently added, “Even if your father didn’t want you to be a part of his legacy, that doesn’t erase the hard work you’ve put in to come this far…so I think you at least deserve to know the truth if you so wish to.”

#the kingdom of the stars #wish au #writers on tumblr #kingdom of the stars #cepheus #asha/nada #a03 fanfic

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asordinaryppl · 3 months ago

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A3! Performance Event - Winter Troupe's Tenth Play: Nomadic Bartender - Episode 9

!! this and the next chapter are the play, while not currently voiced, reading along in game will offer a better understanding of a lot of actions that aren't perfectly described through text alone

Guy: …

Hisoka: He said he wants another glass of “Journey”.

Guy: Got it.

Hisoka: …

Guy: Is something wrong?

Hisoka: I’m glad you got to meet your dad again.

Guy: It’s all thanks to your encouragement. Because of what you told me, I was able to be honest with him.

Hisoka: I’m glad…

Hisoka: … Your dad said that…

Hisoka: Even if you had forgotten about him, the most important thing was that you were happy.

Hisoka: … August might have felt that way too.

Hisoka: In a dream, he told me that forgetting would be easier. But it was a dream, so I don’t know if that’s how he’d really feel…

Hisoka: Maybe wanting me to forget everything and live a new, happier life was a gift from August, in a way.

Hisoka: I’m sure Whizz wanted Gin to be happy, too. Away from the dangerous world of the wizards.

Hisoka: I think that he chose to erase Gin’s memories because his happiness was important to him, even if it meant Gin would forget all about him.

Guy: … That might be what it is.

Guy: I think I understand, now that I heard my father’s words.

Izumi: It’s finally the opening day.

Tsumugi: Guy-san’s acting has gotten even better ever since he reunited with his father.

Izumi: Guy-san and Hisoka-san managed to drastically improve the last scene.

Guy: …

Homare: You are invincible because you have strong allies by your side.

Guy: You’re right. I was able to reunite with my father because I had all of you supporting me.

Guy: I never thought the day when I would be able to look at him and call him Dad once again would come.

Guy: I’m truly grateful.

Guy: Today, I would like to show my father a play that depicts my and my precious friends’ growth as actors. I will be in your care.

Homare: Leave it to us.

Tsumugi: This time, let’s show him Guy-san the actor, rather than the barkeep.

Tasuku: I’m certain it’ll make him happy.

Azuma: Come, let’s go.

Hisoka: … Let’s do our best, as we usually do.

Guy: Yeah.

[Buzzer sounds, the curtain lifts]

Gin (Hisoka): “Haah… Guess it’s about time. I should just start drinking everything by myself. Once I’m done, I’ll close up shop for good.”

[Door opening]

Whizz (Guy): “Hello.”

Gin: “!! Welcome!”

Whizz: “ ——”

Gin: “Um? Is something wrong?”

Whizz: “I’d like to work here.”

Gin: “Oh, what… I’m sorry, but we’re not hiring at the moment.”

[Door opening]

Whizz: “Welcome.”

Gin: “Listen to me–”

Customer: “Hello?”

Gin: “Huh? What? You’re a customer for real? W-Welcome!”

Customer: “This is my first time here. So please give me a drink you’d recommend.”

Whizz: “Right away.”

Gin: “Hold on a sec, why’re you–”

[Whizz takes off his jacket]

Whizz: “...”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

Gin: “!?”

Customer: “Woah, that’s quite the performance.”

Whizz: “Thank you for waiting. This is a Gin Fizz.”

Customer: “A Gin Fizz? Haven’t heard of that one before…”

Customer: “But it’s got a refreshing look, and it’s tasty. For some reason, it reminds me of my hometown. Ah, it’s the smell of lime…”

Gin: “Sir? Are you alright?”

Customer: “... Sorry. I started remembering all sorts of things...”

Customer: “I haven’t gone back home in a while. I’m thinking of going to see my parents.”

Customer: “Okay, with that decided, I’ve got to start packing. Thanks for the drink, it was delicious.”

Whizz: “Thank you for your patronage.”

Customer: “It was my first time here, but this is a nice place. I’ll come again.”

Gin: “Th-Thank you very much!”

[Door closes]

Gin: “That customer even left some gold coins…!”

Whizz: “He may be in disguise, but judging by his appearance, that man was a noble.”

Gin: “... I dunno about your flashy, traveling performer way of making drinks, but those skills of yours are the real deal.”

Gin: “How do you feel about going through a trial period for a while?”

Whizz: “I’ll be in your care. My name is Whizz.”

Gin: “I’m Gin, the owner. I look forward to working with you.”

Izumi: (Both Guy-san and Hisoka-san seem very motivated. As you’d expect of them, they look very natural standing next to each other in a store.)

[Door opening]

Gibson (Tasuku): “Good evening.”

Whizz: “Welcome.”

Gibson: “So there really is a shop in a place like this.”

Gin: “It’s a little hard to find, isn’t it.”

Gibson: “My friend lives nearby. He heard from an acquaintance that a new shop opened ‘round these parts, so I came to check it out. Looks like I made the right choice.”

Whizz: “What will you be having?”

Gibson: “Hmm, I wonder.”

Gibson: “Usually when I go out drinking, I’m with a large crowd, and we go wild on cheap drinks. But that isn’t the case today.”

Gibson: “Something I can drink slowly would be good.”

Gin: “Whizz-san makes magical cocktails that can wash away your worries.”

Gibson: “My worries?”

Gibson: “...”

Whizz: “I can make you something I’d recommend, if you’d like.”

Gibson: “Y-Yeah, please do.”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

Gibson: “ —That’s amazing.”

Gin: “That’s why I said they’re magical.”

Gibson: “I see.”

Whizz: “Thank you for waiting. This is a Gibson.”

Gibson: “Hm? Is the cocktail called Gibson? What a coincidence. My name is Gibson.”

Gin: “... Is that also one of your tricks?”

Whizz: “Just a happy coincidence.”

Gibson: “Is this onion? Hmm, it’s my first time drinking it, but it’s quite dry.”

Whizz: “This drink is said to have originated from a man who didn’t like alcohol, so he floated onions in water to make it look like he was drinking.”

Gibson: “Just pretense…”

[Dream-like flashback starts]

Gibson’s father: “Congrats! You did it.”

Gibson’s mother: “Being assigned to the First Order of Knights means your future is all but guaranteed. That’s amazing, Gibson.”

Gibson’s father: “You’ve finally made it to where your brother is.”

Gibson’s mother: “You always seemed to fail right at the most crucial moments, so we were worried about how this would go.”

Colleague: “You can even hope you’ll get to marry an Earl’s daughter, now that you made it to the First Order of Knights. That’s gotta take a weight off your shoulder as the second son.”

Boss: “You should have your fun before you get married. But make sure you keep an eye on the people you date.”

Colleague: “This is what makes enduring those tough days of training worth it.”

Boss: “What’s with that brooding look on your face, you oughta be happy!”

Gibson: “Yeah, you’re right.”

Friend: “Listen to this, Gibson! My master has recognized my skill, I can open my own shop! Finally!”

Gibson: “Really? Congratulations!”

Friend: “We used to do this together all the time as kids. You were so good at it, that I thought you’d follow through with it too, but now you’re a knight.”

Gibson: “You’re pretty amazing, though. You used to say you’d open your own shop and be a supplier for the royal family, and look at yourself now.”

Friend: “Yeah, I’m one step closer to my dream.”

Friend: “But still, I’d have never thought that the Gibson who couldn’t hurt a fly and ran away from sword training would make it to the First Order.”

Gibson: “Right…”

[Dream-like flashback ends]

Gibson: “I’ve been wondering lately… Is this really what I wanted for myself?”

Gibson: “My discomfort grew every time I was praised and congratulated…”

Gibson: “I might have just been following what others thought was right for me all this time.”

Gibson: “Starting today, I will think about what I want to do, and what I should do moving onwards. I will think for myself, and walk through my life without following anyone else.”

Whizz: “Is that so?”

Gibson: “I feel like this cocktail cleared me of my doubts. It really is like magic. I will come again.”

Whizz: “Thank you for your patronage.”

Gin: “Thank you very much.”

[Door closes]

Whizz: “They do say that alcohol is the best medicine.”

Gin: “I’ve never heard that one before.”

[Door opens]

Whizz: “Welcome.”

Hunter (Tsumugi): “—gh.”

Gin: “Are you alright?”

Hunter: “I’m sorry. Could I rest here, at least for a little while?”

Gin: “Of course. Feel free to use the couch over there.”

Hunter: “Thank you so much…”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

bro i rly dk what to call these

Gin: “Wouldn’t it be better if we gave him water?”

Hunter: “No, this is good.”

[Hunter collapses]

Hunter: “——”

Gin: “Sir? Are you alright!?”

Whizz: “He’s just sleeping, I believe.”

[Dream-like flashback starts]

Hunter’s wife: “Dear, dear.”

Hunter: “Mh?”

Hunter’s wife: “Shouldn’t you be going soon? Here, take this to snack on.”

Hunter: “Ah, thanks. I’ll go now. I’ll probably be back in around 3 days. It’ll be tough, but I know you can make it through.”

Hunter’s wife: “Yes. You be careful too, dear.”

Child A: “Mooom! I’m hungryyyy!”

Child B: “Dad, when are you gonna be back?”

Child C: “See you lateeer!”

Child D: “WEHHH! Big bro hit me!”

Child E: “I wanna go with you~!”

[Door opening]

Hunter: “I’m home…”

Hunter: “Everyone’s asleep… *sigh* I have work early tomorrow, so I should go to bed–”

Child F: “Wehhhh!”

Hunter’s wife: “Mh… You’ve been awake all night… Ah, dear, welcome back.”

Hunter: “I’ll stay up. You go and sleep.”

Hunter’s wife: “But you have to wake up early tomorrow, don’t you?”

Hunter: “It’s alright. I can get by without much sleep. I’m a hunter, after all.”

Hunter’s wife: “Fufu, how reliable. Thank you.”

Child F: “Wehhhh!”

Child G: “ Wehhhh!!”

Hunter: “Oh my, you woke up too? There, there…”

Child F: “Zzz…”

Child G: “Zzz…”

[Dream-like flashback ends]

Gin: “Sir?”

Hunter: “Ah.”

Gin: “Are you alright?”

Hunter: “I’m sorry. It seems I haven’t been sleeping enough.”

Whizz: “Here’s some water.”

Hunter: “Thank you very much. Whew…”

Hunter: “I used to make a living by hunting, but I didn’t earn enough to support my seven children like that, so I came to the capital to work.”

Hunter: “But I just can’t seem to get used to this job…”

Whizz: “It must be very lively in the house with 7 children.”

Hunter: “Yes, very. Honestly, there are times when everything is just too much, and I start worrying about whether I’ll be able to put food on the table for all of them…”

Hunter: “But, well, this isn’t something I can talk to my wife about, when she spends every waking moment taking care of our children…”

Hunter: “Thanks to sleeping earlier, though, I do feel sort of refreshed.”

Hunter: “Seeing my children’s sleeping faces in my dreams brought back some of my happiness…”

Hunter: “I want to do everything I can to raise them well.”

Whizz: “Would you like another cup?”

Hunter: “Yes, thank you very much. Um, could I also have some snacks?”

Gin: “I’m really sorry, we only serve alcohol here.”

Hunter: “Are you alright with bring-your-owns?”

Gin: “Yes, of course.”

Hunter: “That’s good. I haven’t eaten anything today…”

Gin: “They look delicious.”

Hunter: “These are the snacks I used to bring with me when I went hunting, it’s my wife’s recipe. Would you like to try one?”

Gin: “Are you sure? Thank you very much.”

Gin: “The spices work well together, it’s delicious. I suppose it’s because she cooked the meat while it was still fresh.”

Hunter: “She’ll be happy to hear that.”

Hunter: “Well then, I’ll come again some time. I’d like to come with my wife too, if possible, but I don’t know when we’ll get that chance.”

Whizz: “We will be waiting.”

Gin: “Thank you for your patronage.”

[Door closes]

Gin: “... A food menu, eh?”

[Door opening]

Rickey (Homare): “Good evening.”

Gin: “Welcome.”

Rickey: “So there really was a store here. I had no idea until I heard from a friend.”

Whizz: “What will you be having?”

Rickey: “Hmmm… Whatever you recommend.”

Whizz: “Coming right up.”

[Shake, shake, magic sparkles]

Gin: “... Isn’t this a little too sweet?”

Whizz: “I’ll simply make something else if it doesn’t suit his tastes.”

Rickey: “Is this lemon in carbonated water?”

Rickey: “I used to drink cocktails like this a lot back in my day. How nostalgic. I could only handle sweet drinks then.”

Rickey: “My friends used to tell me I should just drink plain carbonated water at that point.”

[Dream-like flashback starts]

Rickey: “Let’s increase our import of Western goods. The next queen and the distinguished princess’s mother is from there, after all. It’s bound to become popular in the capital.”

Associate A: “In that case, I happen to know a weaver.”

Associate B: “We should find a craftsman to create the tableware as well.”

Rickey: “If this works out for us, we should open our own shop.”

Associate A: “Yes.”

Associate B: “Let’s make it the biggest store in the capital!”

Subordinate A: “Rickey-san, this contract needs your approval.”

Rickey: “Ah, yes… I see no problems. You may proceed.”

Subordinate A: “Okay.”

Rickey: “By the by, how did the talks regarding Ryoran’s outlet go?”

Subordinate A: “My team is working on it. Progress is going well.”

Rickey: “I see…”

Rickey: “(My business has been growing steadily, and the number of branch locations have been increasing.)”

Rickey: “(However, all my old friends wanted to do their own thing and left. In the end, I was left by myself…)”

Rickey: “(It’s almost like the passion I had when I first opened shop has dimmed.)”

Rickey: “Whew… I should get going.”

Rickey: “Hm? There’s still a light on?”

Subordinate A: “If we want to expand our business to Ryoran, I think it’d be good for us to consider this as well.”

Subordinate B: “Quite true, the South’s culture has reached the capital, and a lot more trades have been taking place.”

Subordinate B: “Our store prides itself in its catalog of rare items.”

Subordinate A: “I’ll bring this up to Rickey-san next time.”

Subordinate B: “I will, too. I’m sure he will see the appeal!”

[Dream-like flashback ends]

Rickey: “When I was young, some friends and I opened a shop. We worked our buttocks off, and the shop quickly grew.”

Rickey: “But before I knew it, my friends started leaving, one by one. And I was eventually left alone.”

Rickey: “I thought those feelings of pushing forward that I had back then would never return.”

Rickey: “I was just reminded that I have new friends by my side.”

Rickey: “Those new friends of mine are as passionate and full of hope as I used to be…”

Rickey: “Seeing them makes me feel like there are still things I need to do.”

Rickey: “Thank you for reminding me of how I felt when I found that excitement again. I suppose this cocktail’s nostalgic taste has something to do with it.”

Whizz: “There is no need to thank me.”

Whizz: “Old friends are something you never truly forget about.”

Rickey: “It seems you also had those kinds of friends.”

Whizz: “Yes… I’ve been looking for them for quite some time, but I have not been able to find them.”

Rickey: “I’m certain you will meet again. Thank you for the drink. I will bring my new friends next time.”

Whizz: “We will be expecting you.”

[Door closes]

Gin: “I think we should close up for today soon.”

Whizz: “You’re right.”

Gin: “But still, your cocktails really do seem magical, Whizz-san.”

Gin: “Not sure if magic can be considered a compliment, though.”

Whizz: “... Perhaps so.”

Gin: “I wonder what magic actually was like?”

Gin: “I can’t really imagine it, because I only know it through fairy tales. I wonder if wizards really did exist in the past.”

Whizz: “... There should not be many people who know, nowadays.”

Gin: “Guess you’re right…”

Gin: “Ah! This is the most sales the shop has had ever since I opened!”

Whizz: “Congratulations.”

Gin: “This is all thanks to you, Whizz-san. It looks like I can keep the store running for a while longer.”

Whizz: “I'm happy to hear that.”

Whizz: “I just remembered… Do you have any plans to serve snacks or food?”

Gin: “I wish I could do so, but my cooking is terrible, and I don’t have a supplier–”

Whizz: “The bar’s location is not so bad. If we can increase the number of regulars and get them to spread the word, I think it’ll get us back on track quite quickly.”

Whizz: “Also, there don’t seem to be many shops here offering food at night, so capitalizing on that demand should work to our advantage.”

Gin: “Now that I think about it, the snacks Hunter-san gave me the other day were delicious…”

Gin: “If we can find something that can be preserved, then all we’ll need to do is plate it when it’s ordered.”

Whizz: “That sounds like a good idea. How about we discuss this in-depth tomorrow?”

Gin: “Okay!”

previous episode | masterpost | next episode

NOTES:

(1) all characters in this play are named after cocktails! of all of them, rickey's history also relates to the character, as it was invented by colonel joe ricky after he asked a bartender to add lime to his bourbon with carbonated water (source)

#a3!#translation #a3! translation #tsumugi tsukioka #tasuku takato #hisoka mikage #homare arisugawa #guy nishiki

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