#not counting the time it spent brewing before i started writing it down

[coldresolve]

been struggling w the next chapter for a few days now and finally realized it might be because its unnecessary. meaning im probably just gonna skip it. meaning that the next chapter is actually gonna be the one i had planned after this, which happens to be the chapter that leads up to the final conclusion/end of climax/whatever you wanna call it. aka That Thing Weve Been Working Towards. aka The Fucking Ending

this is terrifying. im suddenly very terrified

[pathologicalreid]

If your down could u write an imagine where reader is new to the bau and Spencer is just coming back from jail and he makes reader nervous and when he notices he starts to mess with her nothing to wild but he teases her every now and again -🖤

drop | S.R.

in which reid seems to be there every time you drop something

who? spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: fluff, lighthearted teasing, clumsiness, obliviousness, reader is mentioned to be shorter than 5'7" (sorry it just worked for the story)

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hey anon! thanks for requesting, i think i may have verged away from the request on accident. also this is the one i posted about earlier that had been deleted by word so i had to rewrite it and therefore it's not very thoroughly proofread. hope you enjoy.

It came as a shock, most people needed to apply to the BAU and even then, they spent years trying to get in. You had gotten a call four months ago and were told you were leaving IOD in the Hoover building and would be expected at the BAU the next morning.

Years ago, you had a run-in with Emily Prentiss while she was heading Interpol in London, but you didn’t think she remembered you – let alone wanted to work with you. She brought you on to the team to help catch Peter Lewis

Now, Peter Lewis was dead, and Spencer Reid had been exonerated. You thought your time with the team was done, but when Emily caught you packing up your things, she told you she had no intentions of sending you back to the International Operation Division.

So, you made yourself comfortable at your desk across from Luke’s, even adding a picture of your family, just to make it seem a little lived-in.

It was something you’d had drilled into your head by your father: if you’re not early, you’re late. That was the reason why you were usually the first to the BAU, only sometimes being beaten by Dr. Reid.

Penelope said he was harmless, but that didn’t change the fact that he made you nervous. Not nervous in the sense that you were scared of him, but nervous in the way that he was something of a legend in the FBI.

Even more so since his recent release from prison.

You felt a sort of disconnect from the team when it came to them trying to get Reid out of prison, whenever Nadie Ramos came up in conversation, you picked up your files on Mr. Scratch and distracted yourself. Of course, you helped where you were needed, but you didn’t know him like they did.

This particular morning, you had beaten him to the office, taking your spot at your desk and flipping through a file you had abandoned in the name of sleep last night. A slight crash made you jump so badly that you fumbled with the papers in an attempt to not drop them. You looked up to see Spencer had dropped his bag on his desk, “Good morning, Y/N.” He greeted you.

Blankly, you stare at him for a moment before giving him a half smile. “Good morning, Dr. Reid,” you responded.

“I told you that you could just call me Reid, or Spencer,” he said, sitting down at his own desk.

Nodding, you found yourself interested in your coffee cup. “Yes, you did,” you took a deep breath. “Good morning, Spencer,” you tried again, offering him a fuller smile.

That seemed to appease him for now because he flipped open his own files and started inspecting them.

As you were preparing for the 10 o’clock debrief, you found yourself in the office kitchenette, pouring a cup of coffee from the pot that had been brewed an indeterminate number of minutes ago. Vaguely aware of the person standing behind you, you turned around to find Spencer, holding his own mug in both hands. “Oh! Hey,” you said, mentally smacking the palm of your hand to your forehead.

You moved out of the way as you added cream to your mug, watching as Spencer poured his coffee and followed it up with an almost equal amount of sugar. As you were about to make your way to the round table room, Spencer spoke, “You know, before 1975 you wouldn’t even have been able to be an FBI agent.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you stopped in your tracks and turned to face him, “Wait, what? Why?”

“Before 1975 people shorter than 5’7” couldn’t be FBI agents,” He responded plainly, but there was a bit of mischief in his eyes.

You looked at him curiously, warmth flooding your cheeks. You stammered something about being late and rushed to the roundtable room, taking your usual spot next to Luke, and watching what Garcia presented to you—pretending not to notice Spencer across the table from you.

The BAU had been asked to consult on a case, but there were no precincts that had asked the team to make a trip to them. You had finished the paperwork on a recently closed case and got up to bring it to Emily, stuffing the papers in a file folder, you turned around and ran into Spencer. “Sorry!” You squeaked out, dropping to the floor to pick up the papers. To your surprise, he crouched down next to you and helped to pick up the papers. “Oh, jeez, now they’re all out of order,” you moped, setting the papers back down on your desk.

“It was my fault,” Spencer said. The honesty in his voice made your shoulders slouch.

Shaking your head, you smiled at him, “It’s okay, Spencer. They’re just papers.”

He looked at you like there was something more he wanted to say, but he didn’t, he just turned from your desk and walked out of the bullpen, leaving you staring.

When you finally brought your papers to Emily, she asked you to close the door behind you. Patiently, you stood in her office while she added your file to the menacing pile she kept on her desk. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re doing. With the BAU, I mean,” she told you, leaning over her desk.

“Good, I think. I’ve gotten very few complaints so far,” you told her, unable to help the uneasiness you felt. Had someone said something?

Emily nodded, her dark hair shining with the movement, “Good, I haven’t heard anything negative about you at all. Which is actually uncommon for the BAU.”

You let the rest of the day pass, but as the team trickled out of the bullpen, only you, Emily, and Spencer were left.

At the sound of rustling, you looked over to see that Spencer was packing up his things and putting them into his familiar leather bag. Resting your cheek on your hand, you went back to your case file, marking thoughts in the margins.

Jumping when something hit your desk, making the metal rattle, you dropped your pen on the ground. Peering up to see Spencer giving you a lopsided smile before he bent down to pick up your pen, “Hey, at least you didn’t drop a bunch of papers again.”

You flushed as your eyes followed him out the glass doors of the BAU, turning around to see Emily watching on, leaning on the railing outside her office, looking between you and Spencer as if she knew something you didn’t.

[softonshanks]

Shanks x reader taking bath together! Something fluff ya know? (No need to be smut)

Hey Anon, thank you for this lovely request. I'm sorry if this took a bit long but I just fell in love with how this story could possibly take place, so I have added a few more details I hope you will enjoy. It's a bit longer that I expected, but I kinda like how it turned out. Thank you again, let me know if you like it in the comments and enjoy <3<3

A Soothing Surprise

Characters: Shanks x female reader Word count: 1922 words

The Red-Haired Pirates were anchored near a small, peaceful island, the kind where nothing much happened. Shanks had been walking a bit slower these days, grimacing now and then while pretending it was nothing. It wasn’t his first time dealing with an aching back, but this time felt different and no amount of rum, jokes, or teasing could ease the nagging pain. He had been feeling it for almost a week now. That dull, persistent ache in his back that seemed to remind him with every movement: you're not 20 anymore. His crew, ever the jokers, hadn't let him forget it either. They teased him relentlessly about "getting old," and while Shanks played along with his usual carefree smile, a part of him couldn't help but think about it. The once endless nights of drinking and partying were now followed by stiff mornings, and though he was still the infamous Red-Haired Shanks, there was no denying that time was catching up with him.

"You're getting old, Captain!" Yasopp had joked earlier that morning, throwing Shanks a knowing grin.

Shanks had laughed it off, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He knew they weren’t wrong. Sure, he was still powerful, still strong, but he wasn’t in his twenties anymore, and sometimes the creaking bones reminded him of that fact. Normally, the banter and the drinking would lift his spirits, but tonight, even with the party in full swing on the deck, Shanks felt a little distant, a little thoughtful.

Shanks had always been the one to go out of his way to do things for his crew, whether it was helping Lucky Roo gather supplies, buying cigarettes for Benn, or giving Yasopp new can of oil to clean his gun. But who was doing something for him?

Y/N decided it was time to change that.

The next morning, as the ship docked at the island, Y/N had her plan ready. She had spent the previous night carefully writing out clues and stashing them in various places she knew Shanks would eventually find throughout the day.

The first clue was tucked neatly inside his favorite mug, the one he used for his morning coffee. Shanks, groggy but in good spirits, lifted the mug to take a sip, only for a small piece of paper to fall into his lap.

“Huh?” he said to himself, blinking down at the note. He opened it up and read:

"A Captain’s day starts with more than just brew. Check under the barrel where you stashed the new."

His brow furrowed, but a slow grin spread across his face. “What’s this all about?”

Intrigued, Shanks followed the clue to the ship's supply closet, where he had hidden some rare bottles of rum the week before. Sure enough, another note was waiting for him.

"You're warm now, Captain, but not yet done. Find the red flag, and you’ll be closer to the fun."

He scratched his head, chuckling to himself. “What’s that girl even up to?”, asked himself, perfectly knowing that it was all her doing. After all, Benn would have never set up a vicious game like this, while Y/N was just like him in some aspects: funny, always ready for a giggle, an eternal child ready to play.

He set off, following the clues she had hidden around the island. Each note was just vague enough to make him think, but not so hard that it was frustrating.

"Your treasure awaits, but first you must find, A place where the wind sings and the sun shines."

This clue led him to a windmill at the top of a hill, another to a quiet beach where the waves lapped gently at the shore, and another to an old oak tree that must have been standing for centuries. It was fun—simple and thoughtful—and he couldn’t help but feel lighter with every step he took. Finally, as the sun began to dip low in the sky, he found the final clue tucked under a smooth stone at the edge of a peaceful garden. It led him to a small, cozy inn nestled on the outskirts of the village. When he opened the door to the room, he found Y/N sitting on the bed, her legs crossed and a playful smile on her lips.

“Well, it’s about time you got here,” she teased, crossing her arms. “I was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

Shanks blinked, looking around the room and trying to figure out what to do with her, alone, on a bed. “What’s all this, Y/N? What do you want me to do?”.

Y/N stood and motioned toward a small door at the side of the room. “Go take a look in the bathroom, Captain.”

Curious, Shanks pushed the door open and immediately burst out laughing. The bathroom was filled with the scent of lavender, and the tub was filled to the brim with warm water, bubbles, and flower petals. It looked like something straight out of a fancy spa, the kind Shanks would love to visit, but would never admit it.

“You even put up candles,” he pointed out, incapable of stopping his laugh. He turned to Y/N, amusement dancing in his eyes. “This is a bit girly for me, don’t you think?”

Y/N shrugged, unfazed. “Girly or not, it’ll help with your back”. Her Captain raised his eyebrow, not fully convinced. “Just get in the tub, Shanks," she shrugged as he smirked, peeling off his coat and shirt. "Alright, alright. But don’t blame me when you start swooning over my rugged pirate physique."

As he continued to undress, Y/N called out from the other room. "Leave your underwear on! We don’t need any... unexpected surprises." Shanks chuckled, unable to resist. "How do you know it’s a bad surprise?" He winked at her. "I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know." Y/N laughed, shaking her head.

"This whole elaborate plan just to get my shirt off, huh?" he teased as he sank into the tub, letting the warm water envelop him.

Y/N perched herself on a stool behind him, her fingers gently pressing into his shoulders. "Nope, just trying to take care of the captain. Warm water and lavender should help with the tension. But honestly, if this whole treasure hunt was too complex for you, you could have just said so."

"Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve been challenged by something as intricate as finding a hidden inn," he teased. "But I have to admit, it’s doing the trick”. The warm water immediately started to soothe the ache in his back. He closed his eyes, sinking deeper into the tub, letting the lavender scent relax him even more. “Alright, how are you feeling so far?”, she asked hoping that her plan was working.

“Much better,” Shanks admitted, though whether it was the bath or her thoughtfulness, he wasn’t entirely sure.

“Good,” she said as she began to gently massage his shoulders. “This’ll help release some tension. The warm water and lavender should take care of the rest.”

Shanks let out a low groan of satisfaction. “Why are you doing all of this?”

Y/N chuckled. “You do stuff for us all the time. A wise captain once said a crew is like a family, a one’s burden is everybody’s burden”.

“Sounds like a smart captain, do I know him?,” he jokingly asked, catching his quote. “Don’t think so”, she answered while her hands kept massaging his toned shoulders. “This captain is always happy and smiley, instead you’ve been grumpy for a while.”

“Grumpy?” Shanks asked with mock offense. “I’m never grumpy.”

She snorted. “Sure, Captain. You’ve been grumbling and wincing for days.”

As her hands worked on his shoulders, Shanks felt the tension slowly melt away, and before long, he was feeling better than he had in days. Still, Y/N’s touch had a different effect on him too—one that was harder to ignore.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you some privacy now,” Y/N said after a few minutes. “Just wanted to make sure you were settled in.”

She stood, ready to leave, but Shanks caught her hand. “Wait, can you hand me a towel first?”

Y/N nodded and grabbed a towel from the nearby shelf. As she handed it to him, Shanks gave her a devilish grin and pulled the towel—and her—toward him with one swift tug.

Before Y/N could react, she lost her balance and tumbled forward, landing directly in the tub with Shanks.

Water splashed everywhere as Shanks burst out laughing, his chest heaving with mirth. Y/N, on the other hand, was mortified, her face flushed as she found herself lying against his bare chest.

“Shanks!” she gasped, trying to push herself up, but he only laughed harder.

“Hey, you’re the one who got me in this tub in the first place,” he teased. “Now you get to enjoy it too!”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh along with him, her embarrassment fading as she realized how ridiculous the situation was. She wriggled slightly, trying to get comfortable. “This is not how I planned it to go.”

Shanks smirked. “Then maybe you should’ve planned better.”

After a beat, Shanks raised an eyebrow. “Well? You’ve already fallen in. Might as well stay.”

Y/N sighed dramatically. “Fine. But I’m keeping my shorts on.”

She reached up to peel off her soaked top, revealing her bra underneath. Shanks let out a low whistle. “Well, if I knew this was how the night was going to end, I would’ve had back pain ages ago.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve seen me in a bikini on the ship a hundred times.”

“Yeah,” Shanks said, his voice teasing, “but it’s always a pleasant surprise to be remembered of what you are hiding under you shirt”. She rolled her eyes, settling into the tub. "You’re impossible," she repeated, though this time there was a fondness in her voice. They sat together in comfortable silence, playing with the bubbles and petals floating in the water. He couldn’t help but taking some flower petals in his hand and letting it gently fall in her hair, making her giggle, her eyes shyly watching the water. The heat of the bath and the soothing scent of lavender wrapped around them like a warm blanket, and for the first time in a while, Shanks felt completely at ease.

Eventually, the water began to cool, and they reluctantly decided it was time to get out. As Shanks stood up and reached for a towel, he let out a soft grunt.

Y/N’s brow furrowed with concern. "Does it still hurt?" she asked, her voice soft. Shanks shook his head, grinning. "On the contrary, I feel amazing. And now I can’t use my back pain as an excuse to make you do this again."

Y/N laughed, tossing him another towel.

"Guess I’ll just have to come up with another excuse," Shanks smirked, wrapping the towel around his waist.

As they stepped out of the bathroom, the tension that had been weighing Shanks down for days had finally lifted. He felt lighter, freer, and though he might not have been 20 anymore, he realized that moments like these—shared with the people who cared about him—made aging feel a little less daunting. And as Y/N flashed him one last smile before heading to her room, Shanks couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, he was still young enough for a few more surprises in life.

[astermath]

 “So? Whatever.” pt.3

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader

summary: you and dave grow closer and you both share stories and secrets. one faithful night, when he’s got nowhere else to go, he reveals his biggest one.

word count: 1.7K

warnings: mentions of blood and injuries

♡ LANDING PAGE ♡

notes: this is probably the final one in this series, but I’ll definitely be writing some blurbs and whatnot using the popular!reader. any requests or things you want to see between these two, or just dave, are welcome in my asks!! thank you for the sweet comments and reblogs, they mean the world to me, hope you enjoy!! <3

Meeting Dave at your house had now become a weekly occurrence.

Every Saturday he’d stop by for a “tutoring session”, backpack filled with new comics and sometimes collectibles, usually bought with the money you gave him for his time. You’d started enjoying your time together so much that you started bailing on party plans or shopping trips, raising some suspicions from your friends as to what you were up to. You simply said you were focusing more on school to finish the year off properly. Which would be a decent excuse if your grades were actually improving, which they weren’t exactly. 

Your Saturdays were usually spent on the carpeted floor of your room, pages spread as excited voices filled the space, talking about your favorite arcs and discussing who the best supervillain really was. 

You had easily become one of Dave’s favorite people to spend time with outside of his vigilante duties, and the feeling was mutual. A crush had started brewing between you two, but neither of you wanted to admit to it. Not just because your worlds outside the safe space of your bedroom were so vastly different, but because you didn’t want to ruin this perfectly good thing you had going on with each other. Even if it meant suppressing the urge to ask him to stay the night, or him pushing away thoughts of kissing you before he’d leave, it was for the best.

Dave had grown so fond of you, you’d shared so much about yourself. You’d opened up about your insecurities, about how competitive cheerleading had affected your mental health, how you hated how your father was away so much for work, how you felt trapped by your reputation... All these things you could never talk about before, they were safe with him.

That’s why Dave felt so ridden with guilt any time you would share things like that with him. Because he was essentially just... Lying to you. You had no idea he was Kickass, at least that’s what he hoped, and the thought of you resenting him for it was eating away at him. If you knew what he was doing when you weren’t there, if you found out about this entire other persona, there was no way you’d still want to spend time with him. At best, you’d turn him in to the police, and he’d never see you again.

But something inside his head, something really stupid and naïve was telling him you’d accept him.

That really stupid part was also in love with you.

Dave’s text messages had been less frequent lately, further adding to your worries about what he’d been up to. He’d cancelled multiple times in the past few weeks, something he’d never done before, and when you asked what he was doing he got so nervous. He’d usually just give some strange excuse or said his dad needed him to be home with all the crime that’s been going on. But that wouldn’t explain the bruises you’d notice on his arms when he took his jacket off, which he’d quickly try to cover by pulling down his sleeves. You’d asked your brother if him or any of his friends had been messing with him, threatening to light his jerseys on fire if he lied about it.

“The fuck would I know about what your boyfriend’s been up to?” He spat, upset that you were bothering him with this at all.

“He’s not my boyfriend, shithead!” You yelled, throwing a pillow at his head.

But damn, did you wish he was.

You sat in your room, flipping through the pages of the collector’s edition Spider-man comic Dave had gifted you months ago. Your fingers traced across the lines of the damaged paper, wondering if he really bought it like this or some asshole at school did this to it. For someone so secretly strong he sure let a lot of people fuck with him.

You thought back at all your years in high school where you deliberately ignored him or even allowed your friends to make fun of him. You wished you could turn back time and give him a chance earlier on, maybe be able to spend more time with him now that he seemed too busy for you now. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock against your window. You didn’t respond at first, thinking you imagined it, but when the sound returned a bit louder you got up. You squinted, finding it a bit hard to see who or what was outside your window when it was so dark outside. You approached and realized it was Dave, looking a bit panicked. You didn’t even think much about it, sliding your window up so you could talk to him. “Dave! Where the fuck have you--” 

“Can I please come in?” He interrupted, his breath ragged, looking like a mess. It was only now you noticed the bruises and the cut across his cheek. You nodded, moving aside so he could come in. He struggled, limping a little, and you turned back around to close the window, hearing him take off his jacket and drop his bag.

“What the hell were you even--” Your own sentence was cut short when you were met with a sight you had not expected. Your eyes widened and your expression changed into one of shock and worry.

There he was, full Kickass attire, no mask. 

And everything clicked.

The random bruises, the comic book obsession, his secret strength, his sudden disappearances...

A heavy silence filled the room, the only sounds present his rough breathing as he put a hand against your bedpost to keep standing. 

“Is... Is this why you’ve been so busy?” Your voice sounded hurt, betrayed even. “You’ve been fighting people?”

Dave struggled to get any words out. He’d hoped he’d never have to do this, but he had nowhere else to go, and you deserved to know the truth. He looked to the side in shame, sighing. “I’ve... Been meaning to tell you. For a while now, I promise, I just... It all escalated so much, I never meant for it to become such a big lie.”

You looked at each other, and Dave’s heart literally ached at the sight of your teary eyes. Or maybe it was the cracked rib that was doing that, who knows honestly.

“Sit down.” You said, pointing at your bed.

“W-What? I don’t--”

“Sit. Down.” Your voice demanded, eyes meeting his with a look he’d never experienced from anyone before, not even when he was getting his life threatened by criminals.

He gently sat down on your bed, groaning slightly at the movement straining his injuries. You silently walked to your bathroom and took out the first aid kit from below the sink. You sat down next to him on the bed as Dave kept his head down in shame. He was certain he’d cry if he saw the expression on your face right now. 

“Take it off. The top part.”

He didn’t say anything, reaching behind him and unzipping the back, peeling the layer of clothing off his body and revealing a wide array of injuries. Normally you’d be excited to see him shirtless, his toned body surprising you, but right now all you felt was hurt. You put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton pad and gently patted the cut on his shoulder. Despite your anger, your grip on his arm was soft. 

He winced slightly at the burning feeling, looking at you and seeing a few tears roll down your cheeks. “Hey, I’m... I’m really sorry.” He spoke softly as you prepared a bandage. He said your name so gently, so sweetly, that you almost wanted to kiss him, if you weren’t so upset. “Everything got so real, and I met other vigilantes, other people like me... It started taking up so much time, I felt bad, and I couldn’t just abandon it, so...”

“So you abandoned me instead?” You finally looked up to face him. You were still holding his arm, and even like this, crying and upset, he thought you looked so beautiful.

“I...” He felt his own eyes start watering. “I would never abandon you...” His hand reached out to rest over your back. “No matter what, I swear, I would never give up what we have...” He gently pulled you in, hugging you so softly, a bit hesitant.

You leaned in closer, head against his bare chest as you started calming down. He didn’t hate you, he didn’t leave, he was there, right there. You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat as he reached down to rest his face against the top of your head, the gentle scent of your shampoo calming him as well. You stayed just like that for a few minutes, holding each other. Nothing else in the world mattered, everything you wanted was right there in the room with you.

You gently pulled back, and Dave was certain he’d be met with either a slap or a finger pointing to the window to get out.

Both of those guesses were wrong.

You leaned in, lips meeting his in the softest, gentlest most loving kiss either of you had ever experienced. No lust, no intentions other than to just feel closer to him. Your mouth opened slightly and Dave leaned in more, a hand reaching out to rest on your cheek as yours sneaked into his brown curls. A warmth had spread through your body, mind running blank, until you gently pulled away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” You whispered against his lips.

“Yeah...” He whispered back. “Me too...” The both of you leaned back in, passion growing as your breathing became heavier and the kiss became more intense. His arms snaked around your waist and you moved onto his lap, straddling him. He didn’t care if it hurt, all he wanted was to be even closer to you, to never let you go. 

You pulled away and looked into his eyes, before a soft smile appeared on your face. “You know I’d never hate you, Dave...” You reach out to gently touch his cheek, and he melts into your hand, tilting his head slightly to lean into it.

“I really thought you would...” He smiled. That adorable, nerdy, slightly nervous smile that you’d grown to love.

“Of course not...” You grin. “In fact...” You leaned in closer to his ear. “I always thought Kickass was kinda hot...”

Heat rises to his face, and his grip on your waist strengthens just a bit at your lustful tone. 

He gained another ally that night. His most valuable one, for sure.

tag list <3

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme  @stilloverthinking @erodastylinson   @reneehillary69  

[bubblegumspacebxtch]

Primal Urges

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.5K

Summary: Aemond is horny af so he decides to wake you up with orgasms

Warnings || 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, pussy smacking (is that what it's called?), praise kink, a bit of degradation, unprotected sex (duh), multiple orgasms, squirting, a bit of overstimulation, creampie, somnophilia, breeding, spitting (yeah I'm nasty so what)

A/N: l imagine newlywed Aemond would be absolutely insatiable like I'm talking all day everyday ya'll are fucking. He sees you and he's like damn lemme go down on my wife real quick so of course I had to write about it lol also those in bold and italics are flashbacks

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

The prince stretched his legs before letting in a lengthy inhale. His one eye fluttered open and it was greeted by the morning sun’s rays. Shifting a bit on his bed, he comes to face your naked back. A little grin makes its way across Aemond’s face as it dawns on him that both you two were still completely bare.

The memories of last night are instantaneous and he swears his skin starts itching to be against yours. He scoots toward you in order to drape an arm across your midsection, effectively bringing you flush against his chest. You were a heavy sleeper at least compared to him. Then again the pair of you did not stop making love until both were spent.

Your husband had you shaking beneath him, crying that you could not longer give him another, but Aemond knew better. He took from you countless orgasms, each more intense than the last.

As he continued to reminisce, you turned in your sleep to lie on your back. Aemond’s smile only grew as he was granted a view of your sleeping face.

“Good morning, my dear wife.”

He only received your soft snores in response. A gentle kiss was placed on your shoulder before his gaze wandered to the rest of you.

With your chest in constant motion as you breathed, Aemond felt a shudder run through him seeing your ample breasts littered with his marks. They’re red now but soon they will turn purple. He finds himself getting excited at the thought of you looking at your body covered in reminders of his kisses, how he was a passionate lover always eager to make a mess of you in bed.

Aemond was getting hard again remembering how sensitive you had been the night before. You screamed as he tortured your little clit. His smug smirk making an appearance as he relished in the memory.

“A-Aemond! Fuck… p-please…”

“Please what my little wife, tell me what you want.”

A groan went past his lips at the sight of your face, all fucked out and teary as you neared your fourth orgasm. The lewd sound of your wetness was maddening as he held the hood of your clit up to expose you even more before using the other to smack against the puffy button. He felt you clench even harder on him and the prince couldn’t help but want your lips on his again.

He moves his hand to tug on the covers, exposing your entire being to his lustful gaze. He presses another kiss, this time to your cheek and not a single reaction from you.

Aemond moves to hover over you, nothing but filthy intentions brewing in his mind. Butterfly kisses are made to your exposed chest before he paws at your breast, giving one a squeeze.

He continues down your sternum, succumbing to the urge to lick your skin. As the prince trails lower, he takes your thighs in each hand to spread you open.

The center of you was already wet and still swollen from his ravenous tongue and cock. A last kiss to each side of your hips was made before he used his thumb to spread your lips.

“Gods, you’re perfect…”

His thumb ran from your hole to your button, gathering the wetness there before popping his digit into his mouth for a taste. He stared at your little opening as he did so, moaning as longed to have that tiny hole stretch around him and milk his cock for all its worth.

Aemond lowered himself further, eager to bury himself in your heat. He looked up at you, still in deep slumber before leaving even more bruising kisses to your inner thighs.

“Hmmm… how pretty this cunt is and it’s all mine.”

The long tongue of the prince ran across your slit and his groan traveled around the room. He couldn’t get enough of you, burying his nose in the small patch of hair in your mound. Soon, puckered lips enclosed around your clit, and Aemond chuckled as more wetness seeped out of you and unto his awaiting mouth.

As he continued eating you like a man possessed, you let out a subtle whine despite still being unaware of your husband’s antics. His gaze was quick to snap to your face, waiting for your hazel eyes to look upon him.

One particularly harsh suck had his teeth grazing your sensitive bundle. The sensation had you jolting awake that Aemond had to tighten his hold on your thighs to keep you spread out.

“W-What? Aemond? Oh Gods!”

Your nimble fingers latched on to his hair and the prince watched amused as your back arched. Your moans soon filled the room as Aemond slid in two of his fingers in your weeping cunt.

“Gods, you’ll be the death of me, Y/N. My beautiful little temptress of a wife. Do you enjoy waking up to your husband’s mouth on you?”

At the lack of an answer from you, Aemond raised his hand only to bring it back down to smack your button. You cried at the feeling and the prince could only smirk at the mess he’s made of you once again.

“F-Fuck yes! I love my husband’s mouth.”

A surge of pride rushes through him as you whine and clench around his fingers. He can feel that your release is close so he resumes abusing your engorged clit with his mouth.

"Yes! My prince, I-I'm gonna..."

As you uttered those words, Aemond was quick to press on your lower abdomen. You thrashed at the pressure, crying your husband's name as you came, gushing into his eager mouth. Your climax was intense and Aemond couldn't help but moan as your release soaked his chin and your other hole as well.

You struggled to catch your breath and knowing Aemond, he gave very little respite in between orgasms so he was crawling to face you in no time. Taking a hold of his cock, he ran the fat tip along your slit, intentionally bullying your bundle. His lips met your before sliding in and stopping only when the base of him was rooted in you.

The prince wasted no time as his hips kept driving back into you. Your legs, on instinct, wrapped around his waist as you pulled him closer to wrap your arms around him for support.

"What a whore my wife is for my cock. I want you filled to the brim with my seed until your pretty little cunt can't take anymore."

He leans down to spit unto where you are connected, adding to the wetness he uses to swipe at your clit. You cry out louder, half the kingdom is guaranteed to have heard you by now.

"I love you... I-I love you! Please..."

Your admission only makes the prince fuck you harder, hitting a spot deep within you. Your toes have curled and the tears that brim your eyes give Aemond the sick satisfaction of knowing that in this moment, no thoughts, but of him and his cock, occupy your mind.

Your release is overwhelming and the clench of your cunt had Aemond cumming mere seconds after you. Warmth spread across you as his spend filled your womb.

Fighting the sensitivity, the prince thrusted into you a few more times to fuck his seed into you. This had you mewling, but Aemond silenced you with a kiss.

Your husband moved to lay beside you, but kept you close so as to keep him inside you. You shuddered as your husband kept you plugged up, passing thoughts of you of being with child soon at the forefront of your mind.

"Good morning, my dear wife. Did you have a pleasant sleep?"

The prince broke the momentary silence with a smug smirk on display as he teased you. You rolled your eyes at his behavior but you couldn't fight off the smile widely etched on your face.

"I cannot keep up with you, Aemond. My legs are shaky and numb... Again!"

The prince chuckled as he was reprimanded and you only huffed as you buried your face into his neck. You felt a soft kiss being placed on your cheek as you were pulled even closer for the prince to brush your hair away from your face.

"Am I to blame for how irresistible you are and how no man, especially not your husband, can keep his urges in line when you are around?"

"Aemond, your family will soon start to detest us if we keep at this. We're always late to occasions and meals because you insist on having me right when we are about to leave. The servants can't even look us in the eye anymore! They're embarrassed having seen us fucking everywhere."

You pinch the pale skin of his arm but he only laughs at you, clearly amused at your embarrassment.

"You must bear my children soon then, my love."

"Why? Will you have me less when I am with child?"

"No, but at least you'll be in bed more, so no one has to see me buried in your tight cunt around the castle grounds anymore."

"Aemond!"

"I am only teasing my beloved Y/N. Get some rest. I might have you crying on my cock again in a little while."

[oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse]

I Hate to Ask

Ominis Gaunt x f!reader

Summary - Anon request for “Would you please write either some HC or a scenario where female MC is just really horny so she sneaks up on Ominis and says she has something to ask him and then she basically begs him to rail her. And of course how Ominis would react to such a lewd ask ♥️”

Word Count - 1,856

Warnings - 18+ smut

You had Ominis on your mind for quite a while now. Not just for hours or minutes, but for days. You had always been much closer with him than Sebastian, but as you neared the end of your 7th year, your thoughts had gotten out of control. He had grown into a handsome man and had no idea how achingly beautiful he was. He had shot up to over six feet tall and filled out his slender frame with more muscle tone beneath his robes. He was always particular about the feel and fit of his clothes and unaware of how delicious they looked hugging his calves and thighs. His manhood.

It wasn't like he was walking around exposed, but as trained as you were on him you had imagined too many times what was beneath the straining fabric. You'd decided today was the day you would finally swallow your pride and beg him to relieve you of your suffering. You didn't even care whether it meant anything at this point, but you were desperately clenching your thighs together anytime you so much as passed him in the hallway.

You caught him coming out of transfiguration, so you hoped he would be in a good mood. You knew he didn't have this class with Sebastian so you watched as he shared some parting words with a few people before starting down the stairs by himself. You walked up to him, grazing your arm with his shoulder. He directed his wands towards you and a smile spread out on his face.

"Y/N, how are you? How was your free period?"

You swallowed hard, thinking about the answer to that question. Well, I spent the entire first half of it pining after you and driving myself mad because my own hands aren't good enough anymore.

You settled for laughing softly and pushing your hair back against your head, "It was fairly boring. I was hoping you could join me for the start of yours. I had something I wanted to ask you, but not here."

Though the halls around you weren't crowded, there were still plenty of students milling about having just left class themselves. Ominis turned towards you and gave you a strange look, wondering what you could possibly have to ask him. "Sure," he placed an arm around your back and guided you to the entrance of the undercroft. You both stepped in and the gates closed behind you. He utilized some quick spells to create a comfortable couch and escorted you over.

Your nerves were buzzing and your face was already heating up as realized what it was you were about to do. Ominis guided you to your seat before sitting close beside you, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. "What is it you needed? There isn't anything wrong is there?" His eyebrows furrowed together with worry as he looked down at you.

You swallowed hard, turmoil brewing in your head over whether to let your anxieties or impulses win. "I, erm, I've been feeling kind of strange lately, and I...I may need your help to figure it out."

You were annoyed with yourself for not coming outright with it, but his concern seemed to lessen as he responded to you, resting his wand between his legs.

"Alright. What do you mean by strange? How d'you think I can help you?" His earnest expression, ready to help his friend in need, almost made you come up with some other excuse so you didn't feel as if you were taking advantage of him. You inhaled a deep breath, drawing your knees up on the sofa, ready to spit the whole embarrassing truth out. "Ominis...I've always found you to be quite comely. And lately, I can't stop thinking about you. Lewd images keep running through my mind and I want to know if you'll help me extinguish them."

You fidgeted with your own hands, unable to face him. You felt him shift beside you, noticing the way he opened his legs and tugged slightly at his trousers. He used the same hand to find your chin and force you to look up at him.

A devilish smirk was on his lips, "I fear I can't extinguish them without knowing more about these thoughts."

You hadn't anticipated a reaction where he wanted to know more; where he steered the conversation so that he had total control. You stumbled over a few words, attempting to describe a scene before you adjusted yourself to be in his lap.

You gasped when you felt how hard he was beneath you, which made him laugh at you softly. He dragged both hands down to your hips to hold you in place.

"Just like this? Are you too worked up to use words?" His fingers tugged at your blouse, untucking it from your skirt to find your warm flesh beneath. "Y-yes," you stuttered, shivering from his touch and already arching into his palms. You felt helpless against him, you knew he must be able to feel the dampness from between your legs.

He was intoxicating as you looked up at him. A picture of confidence and lust as he was clearly toying with you. "Well, I'll agree to help you, but if you can't tell me what you want, you'll have to show me," he shrugged, "otherwise, I wouldn't know what to do, princess."

You couldn't figure out how he managed to remain so commanding even whilst essentially giving you control over the situation. He was getting off on the power he held over you.

You let out a whine as you rubbed yourself up against the stiffness in his pants, he let out a deep sigh in response. You tossed your robe off and quickly started to undo the buttons on your shirt to create a pile of clothes on the floor.

You reached to the edge of your camisole just below your ribs and pulled it over your head, leaving your top half entirely exposed. You groaned in frustration when he didn't make a move to touch you at all, his expression amused. You guided his hands up your sides and over the soft warmth of your breasts.

You yelped in surprise when he began kneading at them and pinching at your stiff nipples, "I can work with this if you continue being a good girl."

You bit your lip, surrendering yourself to his assault while you used your hands to unfasten his pants. He hoists you forward without warning, crushing his lips to yours. The kisses are hot and wet as he holds a fistful of your hair. He allows you to pull back to breathe and rests his forehead against yours. "I didn't think it was right for us to start this without getting that out of the way first."

As you took in the sheen of saliva on his lips you had to agree, but you were hungry for so much more. You brought your mouth back to his with more passion, hands now fumbling with his pants to pull out his member.

When you peeled his underwear back just right his thick cock sat up at attention just between your legs, causing you to rut helplessly against it. You pulled back from him, resting your hands behind your body as you rocked your hips against him, the thin fabric of your underwear no longer hiding much of anything.

"I want more of you Ominis. Can you — do you think you could help me get ready for you?"

He brought a hand down to your thigh, a little more harshly than he initially intended, squeezing tightly. "How should I do that? Will your thighs suffice?" You groaned in protest as he was so close to where you wanted him, but clearly teasing you. You grabbed his hand and slid it upwards so he could follow the trail of your juices from your thighs and up to your underwear. Ominis applied pressure where he could feel your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you squirm in his lap. It was his turn to gasp when you wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, giving him a gentle stroke while you tried to ground yourself. "Fuck," he murmured, "You want me here? Your cunt does seem very wet. You think if we fill it up it'll stop?"

You moaned out a pathic 'yes' before he pushed your underwear to the side. He forcefully added two fingers that went in with ease as he pumped them in and out of you, curling them to hit the perfect spot. His name continued to spill off of your lips.

"I can see how this has been a problem," he mused, "but, darling, I don't think you need any help getting ready. You're taking my fingers so well and I know my cock was made for you."

He removed his fingers from you and grabbed your hips, helping you lift yourself to line your entrance up with his dripping head. He kept a tight grip on you to allow you to sit down on him at your own pace. His moans mixed with yours and his fingers dug into your waist. He was breathing heavily alongside you by the time you took all of him, "Y/N, I hope you can forgive me."

Before you had time to question what he meant or adjust to his size he was hitting the deepest parts of you. He held you in position and pulled out as much as he could before slamming back into you with force. He kept rotating his hips until he felt your walls clench indicating he found your g-spot.

"More, Ominis, please, it's too slow," you rested your arms against his chest as he took control and found a steady rhythm to please the both of you.

"You're so tight and perfect, I — agh — I'll have to have you again and again Y/N. You have no idea what you've gotten us into."

You bucked your hips in response to meet his every thrust until your legs started to quiver and your thighs were clenched around his.

"Ominis, I'm, I'm cumming," you bit into his shoulder to contain your whimpers as you came hard around his cock. You felt like you were floating as he continued to fuck you until he released his own ropes of cum inside of you. He was panting and clawing at your back, finally at a loss for words. You collapsed against him, breasts pressed up against his chest as you felt him softening up inside of you. Your clit had been neglected this round, but it was still incredibly sensitive resting against his pelvis, making you flinch every now and again. Ominis traced shapes on your back and spoke up much softer than before, "I helped you with your problem, yes? And well...you helped me with mine, but I wasn't brave enough to ask you on my own."

It made you laugh that after all of that, he was getting sheepish on you now, "I think we can help each other regularly don't you?"

[thefrogdalorian]

Weather The Storm Together

Din Djarin x Neurodivergent GN!Reader

Summary: Despite repeated reassurances that Din loves you regardless of your struggles, you find it difficult to believe him. But when you are engulfed by a particularly strong wave of emotions and fail at your latest attempt to avoid letting him in, it only serves to strengthen your bond.

Word Count: 1.6k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Reader has a panic attack/meltdown, physical symptoms described, negative thoughts (but with Din's help, these emotions are resolved!). ✯ Author's Note: Well it really has been one thing after another for me this week, so I really needed to write this for myself. Very cathartic to write your fave character being understanding of struggles, but I do think it fits Din so well. He spends his entire life wearing a literal mask, he would be very compassionate and gentle. Hope you enjoy this one!

✯ My Masterlist ✯ Read on AO3 ✯

As you lay face-down, sobbing your heart out on your bunk, your senses were too overwhelmed to hear him approaching. It was too late to turn away when your drained brain finally perceived the sound of his familiar heavy footsteps. 

Your stomach drops when the rhythmic sounds stop.

Now, there is nowhere to hide. 

You never intended for him to catch you in such a state. You remain convinced you look repulsive, with your swollen eyes burning from the endless tears shed. You fret about your messy hair that surely sticks out at all ends.

How will he retain his attraction to you after seeing you this dishevelled? How could anyone love someone capable of getting into such a distressed state?

The pain from such realisations will come later.

For now, you are too preoccupied with the way your chest aches from the exertion of the sobs which wracked your entire body until only moments ago. 

As you roll over, you wipe your eyes to get a better look at him, but the sniffling continues. Once your eyes are suitably clear of tears, your stomach churns with unease as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling pathetic and tiny in his presence. 

Somehow, he appears unfazed by your distressed appearance. As comfortable before his distressed cyare, as he would be encountering a band of mercenaries with deadly intentions. 

“I’m here,” Din’s familiar deep voice cuts through the anguish, and you start to feel the clouds lift.

He moves to sit on the edge of your bunk. Instinctively, you cover your face with your arms, nuzzling into the soft material of the clothes you wear to sleep in. 

Now that the shock is beginning to wear off, the equally unwelcome emotion of embarrassment begins to rear its ugly head, ready to add to your distress.

As he sits there gazing at you, his ordinarily warm brown eyes cooler and widened with concern, you think of recent events from Din’s perspective.

You blamed stomach ache for your abrupt retirement to your bunk. Despite his immediate concern for you, you successfully convinced him not to worry. Insisting it was a rogue ration pack, rather than an impending tidal wave of distress. 

When you hurried to your bunk, you left Din engaged in one of his favourite ways he soothes his soul and self-regulates. He would have remained there for a while longer, meticulously cleaning his armour, were he not abruptly interrupted by the unmistakable, gut-wrenching sounds of your sobs. 

You feel terrible that it struck at that moment, during such an unassuming afternoon. The constant storm that brews within you does not discriminate with timing. Sometimes, like today, there is a little warning, but just enough for you to get away and fall apart in peace. Things were perfectly fine, until they weren’t. A combination of the way the cloth Din was using squeaked against his armour and the seemingly endless monotony of hyperspace had caused you to tip over the edge. 

Din has reminded you time and time again that he is by your side every step of the way. But after an entire life spent keeping this side of you hidden, believing it is far easier said than done. It will take more than his supportive words to undo the years of damage inflicted by the repeated negative reinforcements that breaking down like this was due to poor behaviour rather than being a natural, unavoidable response to feeling overwhelmed.

Still, Din is your anchor, something to cling to during the ferocious storm. You reach for his hand, relieved that he has forgone his gloves, as you lace his thick, callused fingers with yours. To your relief, some of the familiar warmth returns to his eyes, matched by the heat radiating from his skin.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Din tentatively questions. 

You nod your head, taking shaky breaths to compose yourself so you can let him into your anguished state of mind rather than keeping him locked out. 

“It was just all too much. The noise of the cloth against the armour and being stuck in this ship for another day. I couldn’t take it. I hate that I have to go through this,” you murmur.

“I know, cyare,” Din squeezes your hand as he shakes his head, “I wish you didn’t have to suffer. But we’ll be landing soon. By the time you wake up tomorrow, we’ll be back on solid ground.”

You nod. You know that Din is reminding you of your impending return to Nevarro as a reason to stay optimistic, not berating you for being unable to last just one more day. He understands how frustrated you are that you could not see this journey through without being overwhelmed. Still, the shame does not dissipate entirely.

“I hate that you have to see me like this. I feel so embarrassed,” you confess shakily, deciding there is no point in hiding your true feelings from him.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Nothing,” Din reassures you, “No one would choose to get themselves into such a state. I hate to see you like this.”

“You’re not mad at me?” you clarify, optimistic that he does not appear annoyed that you attempted to hide your acute distress from him. 

Din shakes his head, “I could never be mad at you. I wish you didn’t feel the need to hide this from me, but I understand why you do, and I hope that one day you will no longer feel a need to.”

You nod, relieved that Din does not berate and lecture you like others in your past have. His words fill you with optimism for the future, too. 

But the dread lingers. Now that you have discovered your fear that Din was angry with you was unfounded, your anguished, racing mind turns to the future. Feeling even marginally less distressed than you do at the moment seems unthinkable. 

“Will it ever get better?” you pathetically ask, picking at the threadbare blanket with your free hand as you avoid his gaze. 

“Of course, it will,” Din responds immediately, his tone so firm that you dare to look up at him, “Right now, it’s hard to imagine not feeling this awful. I promise you, this won’t last forever. I will help you through this.”

“But how long can you go through this, Din, before it’s too much?” you pose the question which makes your heart constrict. 

“You will never be too much,” Din shakes his hand, incredulous at the notion he would ever leave; unwavering in his devotion to you. 

Your bottom lip trembles at his words, a few stray tears leaking from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. You are about to move to rub your cheeks with your sleeves when, in an achingly tender gesture, Din gently uses his thumb to wipe them away. 

The caring gesture and adoration apparent across his handsome features make you feel as though a Wookiee has taken a seat on your chest. It is difficult to breathe in the face of such unconditional love, especially at such a vulnerable moment. 

"There will be better days and I'll be standing by your side through all of them," Din whispers as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, before leaning his head against the very spot he just brushed his lips against.  

You squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep, steadying breath. You will yourself to believe Din's encouraging words, though you remain powerless to help the lingering doubt that gnaws somewhere deep inside. The two of you spend a few moments drawing strength from the closeness. You cannot resist how your lips curve upwards slightly at the way Din strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. 

“Do you believe me?” Din finally asks, his breath hot against your face. 

You pause for a few moments, considering your response. Then, you bring your free hand up to Din’s stubbly cheek and run your thumb along his surprisingly soft skin. You wordlessly answer his question by meeting his lips with yours softly, pressing your lips so faintly against his that it is a ghost of a gesture. 

Din pulls away, his expressive face overcome with emotion. You can see the hope, relief and devotion in his eyes. 

“With you by my side, Din Djarin, I believe that Mustafar could freeze over,” you smirk, then grow serious, “You make me feel like anything is possible.”

Din closes his eyes in gratitude, nodding as he swallows thickly. Relieved that he has, once again, pulled you back from the abyss with the patient, gentle way he loves you.

“Why don’t we get some rest?” Din offers, knowing the impact such distressing episodes have on your energy reserves. 

You eagerly nod. Din quickly moves to shed his outer layers of clothing. He is already back before your side before you can truly mourn the loss of contact, pulling you into his strong arms so tightly that you believe he will never let you go. 

As you lie back on the bunk together, you come to rest in your favourite position; with your cheek on Din’s strong, firm chest as his hands settle on your waist, rubbing soothing circles across your back. 

You are so exhausted that it appears sleep will come easily to you, as your eyelids are already growing leaden while your breathing becomes heavy. Safe in the arms you love, the distress of before seems almost a distant memory. 

Before falling into sleep’s warm embrace entirely, you hear Din whisper a final reminder:

“We’ll weather the storm together,” his deep voice vibrates underneath you. 

You nod in agreement, reassured that Din’s affection for you will never diminish, no matter the severity of your distress. 

The strong man whose arms you lie in will always be your anchor.

Follow @thefrogdalorianfics for updates on my latest fics!

[berrystiles]

Right Where You Left Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Word Count: 10.1k

Content Warnings: Angst, Lovers to strangers kinda deal ya know, some cursing.

Summary: It's the summer before you head off to college, and there's a fear about that decision that keeps creeping in. You try not to let it drown you, spending time making summer plans for your friends and with your boyfriend Steve. It feels like you can do this, and you're happy to be staring into the summer ready to make memories that will carry you into college. However, unbeknownst to you something else is brewing and Steve has plans of his own. One unexpected breakup later and your summer now looks a lot more like trying to overcome heartbreak.

Author Note: I'm the only one to read over this, so me and Grammarly are all I have regarding editing. Also, I guess this is just what I write now! Inspired by my favorite sad girl songs, if you know them I'm sure you'll see them. I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone would be interested? All of this was supposed to be a one-shot type of thing, but it started getting long. Part two would be a resolution as we fade into a happy ending, and get some much needed answers.

Ao3 Link - In case you want to read it there

Steve Harrington is soft smiles passed your way over the tops of all the children he babysits heads. He is weekend movie nights spent curled up next to one another on his couch, so close that you sometimes think you could become one person if you tried hard enough. He’s not your first relationship, but sometimes when you can’t sleep at night there’s a reoccurring thought that he is going to be your last. Steve has been orbiting around your life since elementary school, close but never within reach. That was the way, only knowing him through rumors passed around the halls of Hawkins High, two passing ships in the hallway between classes. This last year though has brought him into your world, no longer is he a passing comet that you stop to stare at. Now he’s yours and your mom will chide and say it’s just high school love, but you can’t imagine a world where his hand doesn’t stay attached to yours. Call it whatever you want, but something about this just feels too real. The kind of love you hear about in novels, the kind people wax poetic structures about. You’re not sure what you did in a past life, or what karma you collected over time, but you’re thankful for the universe putting the two of you together.

The only bleak part of your future with Steve comes after summer ends. You’ve just graduated, and school is expected of you in a way that you know you can’t turn down. Steve has been more than understanding, it’s a pressure he recognizes from his parents. You have no clue what you want to do but your dad swears that you’ll figure it out when you get there. You manage to get into a good school but it’s 5 hours away from Hawkins. Your parents are ecstatic, they can’t stop talking about all the ways you’re going to grow in this next phase of your life. Your parents are the people who met in college, and even though they won’t say it there’s something about you needing to attend that feels a little like them trying to relive their glory days. You love them but you’re not sure if they know you or if they really listen when you talk.

You find that if you put on a smile and nod along to what they say though it gets you through conversations faster. It’s a small price to pay so you can escape the house and rush to Steve. Steve who you hate to leave behind, sweet Steve who has been there to hold your hand and be your rock through it all. You’re not sure if you’d be able to put up with your parents’ expectations if he wasn’t there with you holding you up. You worry you put too much on him like you weigh him down the same way your parents tend to do. Sometimes you tell him your concerns, and he’s always quick to quiet the fear.

The thing with Steve is he is so soft sometimes, and yet you can’t help but feel protected in his arms. Still though, even as he brushes your hair to the side, as his lips touch yours and he peppers you with affection and reassurance, you make a vow to yourself to try and reduce how much you complain. You can’t stop the anxiety that sometimes spikes up despite his kindness that maybe this all hurts a little too much for him. After all, his family held similar expectations for him. You know that his dad is a different kind of mean and demanding than yours. Your family feels like a small-time problem when put into the perspective of Steve’s parents.

You have a mantra you follow, reminding yourself that school, as daunting as it is, is still months away. You have a whole summer to forget about it all. A whole summer of nothing but your friends and Steve. You know you’ll be right next door at the arcade, your shifts and Steve’s always lining up because of a favor Keith owed you. There are plans in place that will carry you through. There’s the drive-in and their Friday night movie deals, sunny days that will be spent at Lover’s Lake, the regular Sunday brunch at your favorite diner, and so much more. You make sure to focus on those things, knowing that all of it will be enough to get you through that first semester of school once you finally go.

However, like with most things that seem to happen in Hawkins, your good luck runs out. You hate to say it, but you didn’t see it coming. Delusional bliss is apparently where you’ve been living and the rose-colored glasses you didn’t know you were wearing are snatched off your face without a moment of hesitation. Looking back the signs will be there in glaring neon colors, and you will hate yourself for missing them. For missing them to the point that you couldn’t even backtrack to fix where your so-called perfect relationship went off the tracks.

It's a week into summer and things are not at all going to plan. Your parents are pressuring you to cut your summer short and go to school three weeks early so you can settle in for classes. And honestly, it’s not the worst idea and if you were anyone else maybe it would be appealing. However, you’re on a fixed time frame and you don’t plan to give up one ounce of time with Steve and your friends before you absolutely must. Despite schedules syncing up, there’s a distance growing between you and Steve. At the time you understand, there are kids to be driven around and then his parents unexpectedly show up back home. You don’t blame him for the distance, you take it in stride and offer your support just like he’s been doing for you. The future version of yourself, will look back and call you an idiot for not digging deeper. But why would you? In all the time, though maybe it hasn’t been that long, Steve has never once been the cause of your anxiety. Never once has he ever done anything to make you question your relationship, or whether you can trust him or not.

After a week of only seeing Steve in passing and on lunch breaks, you finally get the chance to have uninterrupted time with Steve. He catches you on a break at work and asks if you want to get dinner once your shifts end. He doesn’t carry that same glowing smile he always does when he drops these moments on you, but you brush the thought aside assuming this is the residual damage from his parents. You’re just happy at the prospect of being with Steve so you’re quick to agree, and even quicker to pull him in for a kiss to seal the deal. In your excitement, you don’t notice how this kiss doesn’t feel like a welcomed hello, and later you’ll tell yourself that it was the first sign of goodbye. But in the moment Steve is pulling away, and he’s looking at you like he's tracing and memorizing everything about you. “I’ll see you after work,” is the parting sentence before he’s jogging back to Family Video.

Steve and you meet in the middle of your two jobs, and he holds out his hand just like he always does. He leads you to his car, asking you about your day. You tell him about the party coming in, and about all the different characters of teens who came in. You prattle on and on, all the way to your favorite diner. You ask him about his day and try to get him to talk more. A quiet Steve, with eyes not shining, is a version you hate to see. You want nothing more than to pick him up, hopefully, wash off all the grime that his parents so obviously threw on him in the short week they were home. It’s always hard doing this walk and dance, the scars his parents leave him with always cut deeper than you have an awareness of. But it’s never this impossible, by the time you’re leaving the diner you’re more worried about what happened during this visit home than you ever have been. You’ve learned with Steve that when it comes to his parents you can’t poke too much otherwise, he gets spooked. Normally, he finds a way to talk about it usually when you’re both back at his place and the light is off for the night. When it’s so dark in his room that you can’t see the way his face is lined with grief, and pain that he shouldn’t have to experience. You’re so used to the pattern that you don’t mind the car ride after dinner being just the sound of the radio. It’s not unwelcomed, it’s just a part of the pieces that happen, which is why you’re surprised when Steve parks in front of your house.

“Oh, are we not going to yours?” Your brow is furrowed as you turn in your seat to face Steve. Even when you don’t stay at his place, he still is always looking at you when you turn to leave. This time though Steve’s hands are still holding on to the steering wheel, and he can’t turn to face you when he finally gathers the ability to reply. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

The radio is still on, and your ears pick up Whitney Houston singing a new song that’s been playing everywhere. “What do you mean,” your stomach feels like it’s falling right out of you and your brain is giving radio silence as you try to gain some understanding of what the hell is going on. You watch as Steve takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself before turning to face you. Every time Steve has ever looked at you it’s been with nothing but softness, an unquestioning gaze that always tells you what he’s thinking. The Steve before you though, these are eyes that aren’t that sweet look he normally gives you. Instead, this one is cold, one that you can barely recall. You have to pull at memories from his reign as King Steve to find some type of look that’s like the one you receive now.

“I just don’t think this is working,” he shrugs like this isn’t the biggest thing to ever happen before. Like he’s telling you something that should be common knowledge.

“I don’t understand, Steve.” There’s a burning feeling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is a warning that if you don’t pull it together, you’re going to start crying. You don’t know how to pull it together because what little Steve is telling you sounds an awful like a breakup.

Steve sighs, something heavy like he’s just so tired of having to explain himself. It’s an odd sound and it rubs you raw because he hasn’t explained anything. How can he already be tired of a conversation that makes no sense?

“Look, I don’t want this to be harder than it is,” you cut him off before he can continue. “So don’t make it hard, just tell me what’s going on and why you’re saying all of this.” You don’t recognize your voice. The pleading tone sounds watery and not at all like what you know yourself to be. You don’t think you’ve ever begged someone in this way before.

“I just don’t feel the same way for you,” it’s so blunt and to the point that it leaves no room for argument.

“I don’t understand,” you’re repeating yourself and you hate that. You’re not stupid, you can usually piece things together faster than this. The phrase, ‘having the rug pulled out from under you’ rattles around in a way that suddenly makes total sense.

“I don’t know how to explain it any better. I don’t want to date you anymore. I don’t want to see you.” You didn’t realize before that the cold tone he was using still allowed for kindness. In this final statement, his words are ice, and you feel like you just took a plunge into Lover’s Lake in the middle of winter.

You have more you want to say, questions that you feel need to be asked. If you stay though you feel like you’re not going to get them, and honestly, it’s taking more energy to keep yourself together than it would be to stay. You’re not sure if you say anything else if there’s some kind of acknowledgement on your part. All you know is that your body is screaming at you to run. Staying in that car doesn’t feel like a place you belong, so you’re quick to get out. You don’t even make it to the door before Steve is peeling off and driving himself home. The action feels like the last break in any resolve you had. Your Steve would always wait until you were inside before leaving. Always telling you he'd rather know with certainty that you were safe before he ever left. It was one of those things that told you how caring he was, that showed how he loved you.

______________________________________________________________

In what will later be referred to as The Aftermath, you have the next day off. Your mom hovers at your door, knocking and knocking. The sound makes your head hurt and forces you to pull your covers over your head like it’ll drown out everything else. If you had anyone else as a mother, you might be able to convince yourself that she’s doing it from a place of concern. The truth is that this is the same woman who when you came in last night, uncontrollably sobbing and barely getting out the words ‘Steve’ and ‘broke up’, your mom was asking if this meant you’d go to school earlier like she and your father want.

The tears had stopped sometime around when you finally found yourself falling asleep. They haven’t picked back up and everything you ever learned in biology screams out you’re dehydrated. There are things you should be doing, things that you have done for yourself when other relationships ended that made it so the person you were dating was nothing more than a faded memory. Maybe if you go through the ritual of it all, the gathering of reminders, and the disposal of memories it’ll make you feel better. There should be phone calls to girlfriends, and movie nights set up to help push you through these feelings.

Instead, you continue to stay in bed. Your limbs feel like lead, weighed down and stuck, too heavy for you to move. Your curtains are drawn so tight that not even the hot Indiana sun comes through to ruffle you into motion. Your wall has your attention, and you find yourself using the texture of the paint to trace all the lines in your relationship with Steve. Maybe if you follow them to the end like a map, they’ll tell you where you are and where you go from here.

In the midst of The Aftermath, in the bed of your grief, you manage to make one phone call. Well… that’s a lie. You make two phone calls. In no surprise to the imaginary audience watching you grieve; the first call is to Steve. The phone rings and rings and rings. Steve never answers and it should be a sign. You get the standard Harrington voicemail. Steve’s mom’s voice becomes the soundtrack to your day. She tells you to leave a message, and that the family will get back to you when they can. You open your mouth, no plan on what to say but surely there’s something there in your head that will tumble out. The answering machine beep is met with your silence though, just your breath coming through, you wonder if Steve will know it’s you even if you don’t leave your name. Does he still have you memorized in all the ways that you still know him? Did he forget about you in just the span of a day? Worst thought of all, did he even really take the time to trace you down in his memory the same way you did him?

You hang up after that last thought, still no name and still carrying the hope that it could be enough. Your second call is made two hours later when there’s still no call back from Steve, even though he should be off today too. Even though, there’s a piece of your mind screaming over and over that he should have heard the silence in the message and been able to read through it. Maybe that’s unfair of you to place that on Steve, but it also feels unfair that he had the power and took action to bring you where you lay now. The second call is to Keith at the arcade, where you know he’s working since you’re off today. The favor you cashed in on is wasted because your request is for him to take back your schedule.

“I can’t work the day shift anymore,” your voice is hoarse and throat sore as the words stumble out.

“That sounds like a you problem,” you grimace as you hear Keith chewing what you know are those stupid cheese snacks he always carries around.

You hold back a groan and tell yourself your next move, while incredibly bratty, is the only way that you return to work. Your parents hate you working at the place anyway, but you like the independence, you like having your own money and you don’t want to give up another thing this summer.

“It’s going to be your problem because I’m not working any shift that overlaps with Harrington. I’ll quit.” You hate how Steve has transformed into Harrington. Hate how removed it sounds, not at all reflective of how close you had been. If you say his first name though, you know you’re going to cry.

Keith whistles, the tone way too low and drags out in a way that makes you feel a wave of creeping anger you’re not used to.

“So, you and Harrington are over then. Knew he was stupid but didn’t think he was that stupid.”

“He’s not stupid,” your defense is soft, it feels telling of where you are. It isn’t harsh in the way that it should be. It’s not your job to defend Steve anymore, he let you go from that position last night after all.

“I’ll change the schedules,” is the response you get back and it’s the nicest thing that you think Keith has ever said to you. However, you know Keith, and this feels a little too easy.

“Is there a catch?”

“Nah, just can’t afford to lose you so consider it your lucky day.” It doesn’t feel like your lucky day, but you don’t say that. Just mumble out a thank you after he tells you that your shift tomorrow will be the closing shift and Harrington will be gone by then.

True to his word, when you pull into the shared parking lot of Family Video there is no sign of Steve’s car. There’s an awareness that it won’t always be this easy, that Hawkins is too small to go all summer without seeing him. And despite Keith’s previous comments on how he couldn’t afford to lose you, there’s also a silent understanding that he’s still going to be an absolute shit about all of this for the rest of the summer. Keith doesn’t know any other way to be, and it’s a moderate price to pay for your ability to at least show up to work without breaking down.

Dustin is the first one you see in The Aftermath, and you can tell by the way he keeps glancing at you in the arcade that he already knows what’s transpired between you and Steve. You’re not sure if it’s the telltale sign of the obvious breakup look you’re sporting, or if it’s Steve’s own admittance to the teen. Could be a combination of the two though. You looked in the mirror before leaving today. You’re fully aware that you look and feel like shit, and there’s no way to sugarcoat that.

Normally, Dustin would come to chat with you. Whether he’s with the rest of the party or by himself, he always says hello. He would do it before Steve, and you hoped that he’d do it after too. Dustin doesn’t say hello though, he avoids your gaze when you catch him looking your way, and even though you know at one point, he should come to you to complain about a machine he just leaves instead. The act makes you sad, it’s the first divide between the friendships you created and thought you would get to hold on to. Dustin might be in high school now, but he’s still a kid. Rationally, a piece of you should be able to string together how his silence speaks more about how he doesn’t know what to say and less about a side he’s choosing. Reality rarely ever plays out as it rationally should, so instead Dustin just becomes the first domino that falls, and you feel like you should have known everyone else would go along with him.

______________________________________________________________

The next three weeks find you oscillating like a fan. Days spent hiding in your room, working up the courage to move and take care of yourself. Then nights of work or spent rummaging through polaroids that catalog your relationship. You always told yourself you put them in a scrapbook, something to hold the years together so in old age you’d have something to shuffle through. It sounds silly now, but the pictures sit in a shoebox of movie stubs from the Hawk, the receipt from your first date together, and the paper menu from the diner that you talked a waitress into giving you. There are notes scribbled on lined paper that were slipped into your jacket pockets when Steve would kiss you goodbye as he dropped you off at school, dried flowers from prom, and so much more. After a week of crying over the pieces, ink smudging thanks to fresh tears your body can create again now that you’re hydrated, you manage to shove the shoe box in the back corner under your bed. You had to slide it back there with the broom, but you know it’s not within reach now and that feels like progress.

You still dodge calls from your friends that you collected outside of your relationship. When they manage to catch you on the phone they whisper sweet condolences, but underneath it’s an unspoken blame of how you should have known. “He was the King of the school, he only knows how to break hearts,” your friend Val tells you over the phone one night. Val pops her gum on the other end of the line, and it sets off a chain reaction of emotions. You feel like you’re going through the five stages of grief in that moment. Val tries to invite you out and reminds you that Hawkins has more boys than just Steve Harrington. She promises you a good time, a night to help you forget all about Steve. You make an excuse and promise to go out next time, but both of you know it’s a promise you won’t keep.

Your parents seem to have set up some game plan amongst themselves. They’ve learned that they can’t tell you that your heartbreak is juvenile. Instead, they preach about how open you’ll be to new opportunities when you head to school. Your dad has the course list, where he got it from you don’t dare to ask. He tries to plan out your future over dinner, but you don’t even know what life you want for yourself. Before this you just saw Steve in the future, you had naïvely assumed you’d have time to sort out the rest. But Steve’s in the rearview now, and your parents want to know what life you plan to have in your passenger seat.

It's three weeks of juggling it all, but you still haven’t seen Steve. It should feel like the universe is still on your side, but really, it’s more of a cosmic joke. It should be finally time for some peace, instead, the world feels the need to implode again. Your parents are out of town, an annual get-together with their old college friends, and you’re home alone. It’s late, you’ve only been off work for 20 minutes when you get to the grocery store. The pantry at home is bare bones and you’ve been putting off the need to go shopping for the last three days. You’ve been supplementing meals through various fast-food restaurants on the outskirts of town. But you’re tired of driving so far away, plus the taste of grease has become less and less appealing as the days have dragged on.

The evening finds you shrugging off your name tag from the arcade and running into Bradley’s to do some shopping before they close for the night. The air conditioning hits you right as the doors open, it cools your skin in a way that summer nights never will. You close your eyes and pause for a moment, maybe you look crazy, but it’s late and you don’t anticipate anyone else is going to be poking around the store. You grab a cart and you’re on your way, trying to be mindful to be quick because you know how it feels to work a closing shift. You wander up and down the aisles of the store, with no real list in mind just grabbing what sounds good. Your diet is still in a post-break-up mode which means you’re either only consuming junk food or pushing food around on your plate still too sad to eat. Which means, it’s time to be gentle with yourself and just grab the food that calls to you. Now is not a time for healthy eating and hitting every food group on that pyramid they went over in health class.

Because of this though you aren’t paying attention to what’s in front of you. You move through the aisles of the store with your eyes on the shelves, still having confidence in the fact that it’s just you and the store clerk in here. But remember, Hawkins likes to implode both literally and emotionally. You swing your cart into the next aisle, already excited to be browsing the cereal options. You only make it a handful of steps forward, eyes already searching for the cinnamon toast crunch which you’re rarely allowed to bring into the house otherwise your mom will complain. Your cart jolts and pushes you back, and you look up to find that you’ve hit another person’s cart.

You feel silly, and your cheeks are warm in an embarrassed flush. “I’m so sorry,” the words tumble out as you drag your gaze up to see what suburban mom you’ve managed to piss off tonight. When you see who it is though you find yourself wishing it was a mom about to yell at you, instead it’s Steve, you find yourself in front of. He says your name, a hint of surprise, and what you might have previously labeled as nervous energy. You must look stupid, both of you really, just standing in silence as the hum of the grocery store lights buzz on and the radio station the store is set to plays out louder than it should. Steve’s cart is full of popcorn, and snacks that you can trace to each teen you know he babysits, there’s even Robin’s favorite chips and the beer that Eddie likes to drink. All of it slides together and reminds you that it’s Saturday, which means movie night at Steve’s.

You don’t know what to say, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen so that you can’t even run to escape the impending collision that is about to take place. It’s Robin rounding around the corner, her voice loud and unapologetic in a way you have always admired. “Hey, dingus, should we grab some ice cream for Erica, or do you think…” her voice trails off as she catches sight of you. “Oh,” and you look to Robin, she raises a hand to give a small wave at you and smile. It’s enough to also jump Steve into movement again, saying your name and you don’t wait to see if there’s more.

You don’t say anything as you turn to leave, though maybe you should have, at least to Robin. But she’s the headlights turning off and giving you the freedom to run. You can eat another fast-food burger tonight, and you hate that you’re just leaving your cart in the middle of the cereal aisle. But you can’t, you won’t just sit there and let yourself wonder that store when it’s obviously not a safe place.

The air conditioning hits you again as you run out the doors. No time to pause this time, and you actually seek comfort in the sticky heat that greets you outside of Bradley’s. The crickets sing to you as you rush to fumble with your keys and drive away before your past tries to catch you outside. You got three weeks of no Steve, and you had been lulled into this fantasy of maybe being okay someday soon. This though, this small interaction, where you didn’t even really talk to him, has shown that you’re not close to that. When you finally manage to pull into your driveway, your hand bangs down on the steering wheel. You mumble to yourself, “that was so stupid, you just ran?”

You’ll eventually make your way into the house about 15 minutes later, after you had completely gone over the entire interaction about three times. You know it will continue to replay all night long. It’ll be inside that you realize you never even stopped to get food, too focused on seeking the safety that you can apparently only find in your room these days. Time drags on and you keep opening and closing the fridge and the cabinets hoping that food will magically appear the next time you start looking. It’s late, Bradley’s will have to be a tomorrow you type of goal. You know Steve and the group will be up late tonight which means the morning will be safe.

You’ve resigned that tonight’s dinner will be a pack of saltines you find buried in the back of the pantry when there’s a knock on your door. Your friends know not to show up unannounced, and if your parents managed to come home early, they wouldn’t be knocking. It’s Hawkins, you remind yourself as you creep to the door, but then the additional it’s Hawkins kicks in and there could be anything waiting for you. You grab your mom’s tennis racket from the closet by the front door and peek out the peephole, but your porch light isn’t on, and you can’t see anything. When you open the door, tennis racket at the ready, there’s no one there. Instead, sitting on the mat right in front of your door is three bags of groceries from Bradley’s.

The bags contain all the items you remember dumping into your cart, including the added addition of one box of cinnamon toast crunch. You can’t prove it, there’s no note, but you don’t really need it do you? There are only two people who would have had access to the cart you left behind, and only one of those two would have added in your favorite cereal. An internal debate rages inside of you, one side of you wanting to leave the food on your porch. Hoping that maybe later Steve will drive by and see it still sitting there. Maybe it will be an ounce of the hurt he's inflicted on you. The other part of you though, the part whose stomach is literally just growling at the prospect of food, wins out. You drag the bags inside and spend the night cycling between the incident in the store and what the bags of food on your porch mean.

The next day feels like a relapse, and you find yourself pacing by your phone, the internal debate to call Steve rages on in your mind. The number of times you pick up that phone and start to punch in his number is too many to count. There’s only one time when you get through the whole number, you only let it ring once before you’re slamming the phone back down and rushing off to your room. You throw yourself onto your bed, face first into your pillow, and you scream. It feels like every emotion that’s been building up since that night in Steve’s car just forces its way out of you. You spend the rest of your day in bed, Don’t Dream It’s Over plays on repeat as you stare at your ceiling and only recognize time passing by the light that streams in from your window.

When your parents come back a week later you say that you want to leave Hawkins earlier after all. They don’t even ask why you changed your mind. They don’t press the issue, which you figured they wouldn’t, but it still stings. instead, they celebrate. Your mom pulls you into her arms and excitedly tells you that it’s the second-best decision you’ve ever made. Your dad chimes in about how the first was applying to college in the first place, his hand feels heavy on your shoulder. The smile you wear feels like it was pasted on, like some macaroni art piece a kindergartener does. Your parents don’t notice though, they never do, they move on already making plans about your departure. The choice doesn’t feel right, but then again, you’re not really sure what the right choice is any more or how it should feel.

______________________________________________________________

You spend the rest of your summer forcing yourself into spaces you don’t want to be in, but it feels like you have to. You got to parties with Val, you spend summer days at the pool with your friends as you planned. It may not be all the friends that you had anticipated being with but it’s something. You feel like with each activity you do you’re adding another band-aid to your heart hoping that this time maybe it’ll stay together. There are times, like at the community pool, when you sit with your friends, and you don’t really feel there. It feels like you’re playing a part and you’ve never been a good actress, so you’re still surprised when everyone just believes it.

Time and life keep moving forward and you wish it felt like you were too, but you still feel stuck. Your parents think that time won’t start moving until you’re away at college, and your friends believe that you need to start dating someone new to feel like you’ve moved on. You don’t think any of them are right but again you’re still stuck wondering what the right move is and how it’s supposed to feel.

What you do manage is to only catch glimpses of Steve for the rest of the summer. You see him at the movies dropping the party off, and you catch him one day leaving Family Video when he’s stayed too late. There’s another day at the grocery store, where you find yourself hiding behind a display stand to avoid the awkward run-in. You see him but you don’t think he ever sees you. You’re not sure if that’s exactly what you want, but if it is then why does it still also ache? A week before you leave you seek Steve out. You spend the morning giving yourself a pep talk, you take the time to perfect your outfit and ensure that you look better than you feel. This encounter is in your control, and you want to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.

You march into Family Video. You’ve been waiting for Robin to leave for her break and for a lull in customers to happen. When all the stars align you take a deep breath, shake out the nerves and move forward with purpose. You have a week left in Hawkins and all your teen magazines have told you that if you want to start college off right you need closure.

The bell above the door rings out in a way that feels louder than you remember. You don’t let it stop you though, you move forward and watch with some satisfaction as Steve’s head pops up and surprise washes over his face. Good, you think to yourself, finally, he knows what it’s like to be ambushed. You’ve planned out what you want to say so once you’re at the counter you speak before Steve can completely derail you.

“Harrington,” the last name comes out a lot calmer than you thought it would, you feel confident. “I leave for school next week…”

“Next week?” Steve interrupts, he looks like he has more to say but you send a glare his way which is enough to have him holding back words. If you paused long enough to just stare at him, you might wonder if he's disappointed, but you don't let the silence linger long enough to notice.

“As I was saying, I leave next week for school, and you owe me some type of closure or explanation for what happened. I’ll be at the diner tomorrow night, 7 pm and I expect you to show up.” You’re proud of yourself, your voice has an edge to it that leaves no room for disagreement.

Steve just says your name and he says it in the same soft way he did when you first started dating. You feel ruffled and some of that confidence feels like it’s being washed down a drain somewhere. “No,” you interrupt him. You can feel the tension in your forehead, you know your brows are furrowed and the frown on your face is reflecting your real emotions instead of some mask you’ve been wearing.

“You just dumped me, out of the blue and you gave me no explanation. I’m leaving next week, and you owe me this. You don’t get to dump me, say that you don’t care for me, and then leave groceries on my doorstep, Steve.” Something in your words must hit a soft spot that you know Steve still has inside of him. Even if his feelings for you are long gone, Steve has always been gooey and soft like caramel on the inside.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.” You stare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out if you’re getting an honest response. Once you’re sure you are you nod and turn to leave. When you were dating you never liked saying goodbye to Steve, it was always a see you soon. Now when you leave there’s no goodbye, but it’s more because you don’t want to waste another word on him. Not when you need to prepare for tomorrow.

______________________________________________________________

The next night finds you showing up at the diner first. The waitress recognizes you and tells you it’s been a while since she’s seen you. You don’t have the heart to tell her the reason why, you just smile and walk to the booth that used to belong to Steve and you.

You don’t feel as prepared for your conversation tonight as you would like, but you do feel less fragile. Somewhere between yesterday and today, you’ve managed to slide into the anger stage of your grief. There are times when you’re not sure if you’re going to just hit Steve as soon as you hit him, or worse. Worse is that small intrusive thought that you have about kissing him one last time. It’s weird because you’re so angry, the angriest you think you’ve ever been before. You feel like a pot that was left on a burner too long, just boiling over the edge and sizzling when you hit the stove eye.

And yet, behind all that anger there’s still the part of you that loves Steve. That piece of you can’t even remember the last time you kissed. You have fuzzy memories of when it might have happened. Maybe a goodbye kiss as he dropped you off at home, something that happened underneath his comforter as you both tried to hide away from the world a little longer. Either of those or something more is possible. It’s just... how were you supposed to know you needed to remember it? You think that maybe this time if you knew it was the last, you’d feel more prepared this time. Maybe it’ll help you feel better.

You slide the salt shaker between your hands, watching as it glides over the table as smooth as butter. Another glance at the clock tells you that Steve is late, Steve who was never late to anything that had to do with you before. The heat starts to turn up, and you feel more and more like that roaring boil of the pot. Twenty minutes after the hour he was supposed to be there the bell chimes above the door.

You don’t give in to the urge to look, you watch the salt continue to glide over the table. You know already it’s Steve because that same waitress is telling him that his girlfriend is at the regular booth. Steve doesn’t even correct her, at least not that you can hear. Steve slides into his seat as easily as the salt continued to glide on the table. All the anger you felt feels like it whooshes out of you. You go from feeling like a boiling pot to a balloon that was blown up and then let go before the air could be sealed inside.

As you sit across from him, the silence stretching on like the miles on an interstate you find yourself spiraling. People, mostly your friends and parents, have implied that it was childish of you to assume that your relationship with Steve would be anything long-term. And maybe you were, maybe somewhere in it all you got swept up in teenage fantasies. Sitting across from him though reminds you how it happened. For all the pain he’s caused, Steve Harrington is still the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen.

The people of Hawkins can gather and label you as simple-minded for all you care. Slap a label on you and shelve you in the town library with all the other romance novels, you don’t care. Because for all that they say you saw yourself creating a future with this man in front of you. Sure, maybe you romanticized it all, but God… you would have married Steve if he had given you a chance.

It’s that thought that spurs you back into the anger portion of The Aftermath. Because you didn’t build your relationship up by yourself. Steve was there too, he’s the one that layered the cement for your foundation. Steve with his endless flirting, his soft compliments, his whispered promises of forever. And even at the end, Steve left you with no explanation for this exit he took. And you can’t start your journey until he finally tells you why.

“You never really gave me a why for what happened at the end. I hate that it’s been months and I can’t let go of you, and maybe I’m just oversharing here, maybe I cared more, but I have to know. Steve, what the hell happened to us?” You’re surprised how quickly the words come out, but you’re pleased that they sound so tough. If Steve is surprised that you had to break the silence, he doesn’t show it.

“We’re young, this wasn’t going to be forever.” Steve’s voice isn’t loud, but it feels like it echoes in the diner. You want to sink into the vinyl of the booth, but you know you can’t.

“See, you say that but,” you take a breath to collect yourself to figure out how you say this all. “We talked about plans, Steve.” You look up, it’s easier to stare into the fluorescents than into Steve’s eyes. Your nerves make themselves known as you feel your fingers picking at the dry skin around your nails.

“Maybe somewhere along the way, I was looking farther into the future than you were. And if I was then I guess that’s on me.  But I didn’t even know forever was an option until you gave me the words to use.” You shake your head like it’ll knock away your disbelief. Your gaze drifts from the lights to your hands gathered on the top of the table now.

“There was that time,” You lay your hands flat on the table hoping the action will stop the nerves from expanding. “We had only been together for like 4 months, and it was that really rainy day?” It’s a question, a quick uptake that doesn’t need an answer. You finally look to Steve again, waiting for some recognition to spark in his mind before you bulldoze on.

“We stayed in your bed for hours, wrapped up in one another. It was the laziest and softest day we had since we started dating. And there was that moment, and you told me that you wanted pause time.” A grimace of a smile forms, and it’s a bitter laugh that accompanies it. “You wanted to stay in that moment forever, do you remember that?”

Steve, who has been so emotionless through your every moment since you broke up, seems to finally crack. You watch emotions slide out of him as you wait for a response.

“I remember.” It’s a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgment of your past. If words could hold weight though, if they could carry more than a sound, you think those two would weigh a ton. They sound heavy at least, and for once you’re happy you don’t have to offer to carry them for Steve.

“So, when did that change?” You press on, encouraged by his response.

“I wish I could tell you. I wish there was a day or a time if that would help you. It was slow, and then it was just there and so I ended it.” Steve’s response is a rush of words, and his gaze isn’t even on you. It all collides together like a car crash. And just like a car crash once the collision hits, you can’t look away from it. It feels like a tragedy, and you know you shouldn’t stare, but human nature is human nature, and you can’t change that. Maybe there’s more to say after his confession but instead, Steve leaves without saying goodbye. His departure is quick and you calling his name is the only thing that follows him.

You stay stuck in that booth for a while, Steve’s words rolling around in your head like a tumbleweed. This was supposed to be closure, but it doesn’t feel like anything has been closed. You feel like you’re trying to piece a puzzle together but some of the pieces are still missing. Steve is the only one that has them but he’s refusing to let you see them, so you don’t even know what you’re trying to put together.

A small nagging part of you feels like there’s still more to this. Like something bigger is at play. But if Steve isn’t willing to share with the class despite all your opportunities for him to do so you’re at a loss. You have to, at a certain point, accept the fact that this is an unknown portion that you’ll never get answered. You hate that, hate how bitter it tastes, but you have no other choice than to find a way to work towards it. Because if nothing else, this night has shown that you can’t keep this candle burning when someone is actively blowing it out. It’s time to snuff the flame out yourself. You want to hope that maybe it’ll be easier once there’s some distance between Steve and yourself. Maybe if you’re no longer hiding from him at the grocery store that door that feels like it’s still wide open will start to close and you can move on.

______________________________________________________________

The day before you leave feels like a round of goodbyes. You hadn’t told anyone besides Steve that you’d be leaving early. Your friends are surprised, and you smile and tell them you’re just excited. Steve had always been your secret keeper, the only one that knew the fear you had around going to college. So, you know your lie will go over smoothly with your friends, and just like you’ve been doing for the remainder of the summer your mask of ‘I’m fine’ will help sell the story more.

It's the kids and Robin that you feel the most torn on, the ones that you struggle with when it comes to a goodbye. The breakup fractured a lot of things in your life, and it feels like maybe you lost them all somewhere this summer. They were never really yours though, so how you could have lost them you’re not sure. In the end, you solidify your resolve and even if it means nothing to them it does mean something to you. You’ve already worked your last shift, and yet you sit in the shared parking lot of your former work and the only place you’re guaranteed to find everyone you need all at once. Since the mall is long gone, this is the best place to be on a hot summer day. Unless you want to share the pool water with the rest of the Hawkins. You wait, you let Steve leave for his lunch, and you take that as your moment.

There’s no speech planned, nothing too major in your goodbye. Robin’s surprised face is what greets you when she looks towards the bell ringing. A soft exclamation of surprise escapes her and she looks confused. “I don’t want to waste your time,” you find yourself telling her. This is the quietest you’ve ever seen Robin.

“I just wanted to say goodbye. I know you’re his friend, and we haven’t really talked since… Well, you know when, but sometimes you felt like my friend too and so I just wanted to say goodbye before I left and that I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you before this.”

All your words sound so unsure, and you feel like you should be phrasing questions instead of just statements.

Silence hangs over the store, and you feel like if you don’t leave it’s just going to grow more awkward. “Okay, well then.” You mumble to yourself, and you force a smile and a wave before you turn to go. You make it to the door, it’s open and you are half in the heat and half in the air conditioning when Robin finally speaks.

“I’m sorry,” it’s not what you expect, and you throw a glance over your shoulder. Her face reflects the apology she’s given you. “We were friends, it’s just-” You shake your head and interrupt.

“It’s okay, Robin. He was your friend first, I’m glad that he had you and the kids.” You smile, and it feels real this time. “Maybe when I get back for winter break, we could be friends again?”

 “I’d like that.” Robin matches your smile, and her nod is enthusiastic. You wave one last time and head fully out into the heat, you’ve got one more stop right next door and then your goodbye tour of Hawkins will be over.

The kids are right where you expect them. Tangled together around one of the games, with Max behind the controls. You wait until the losing screen comes on before addressing them. Your goodbye with the kids is just as short as your one with Robin. “You know I’m kind of gonna miss watching you all hold these games hostage,” Your tone is cheerful, not at all scared like you feel inside. The kids are quick to turn around and it’s Will that matches your tone when he calls your name. Will has always been the kindest of the bunch, and he’s quick to hug your side while everyone else smiles and says hello.

Max is the one to break the greetings, always the most impulsive of the group. “What are you doing here, do you work today?”

“Uh no, actually I came here looking for you guys.” You feel like you stumble over your words, especially as Mike gives you the most suspicious look you’ve ever seen him throw your way. He’s always hard to please, but you feel like maybe you shouldn’t have added him to the goodbye tour after all.

“I just wanted to say goodbye, I know we haven’t talked this summer but still.” You find yourself shrugging as you finish talking.

“You’re leaving already?” It’s Dustin this time, and you find yourself surprised. He hasn’t talked to you since the breakup, and you assumed that would carry over to this conversation. His tone sounds disappointed, and you find yourself feeling guilty for a reason you can’t name.

“I leave tomorrow,” there’s a chorus of groans and refusals that leave the kids. Something like regret swells up because sure these were Steve’s kids first, but they were kinda yours too. You knew them before Steve and had a whole weird dynamic with them before you even knew Steve worked next door. A part of you feels like you messed up this summer by not making more of an effort with them.

“I’m sorry about this summer,” the expressions they turn your way feel like they know too much for kids who are too young to be wrapped up in your love life drama. “We’re sorry too,” Lucas tells you. “You have nothing to apologize for okay,” you look at each one of them, the look on your face leaves no room for argument. It’s always worked with the group.

“Maybe when I get home for winter break, we could all do something together?” You offer them the same olive branch that was extended to Robin. Everyone, Mike included you’re happy to note, nods their head. You find yourself ruffling Will’s hair, he’s still the closest to you. “It’s a plan,” you tell them. “I’ll let you get back to the game, make sure you keep that top spot!” Max tells you not to worry about it, a smirk already forming on her face. You give them all one last smile and make your way out of the building.

You think you’re done, and you feel as at peace as you think you can manage under the circumstances of it all. You unlock the door of your car, plans already in mind for what is left to pack up for the trip tomorrow when someone is calling out your name. You look up and find Dustin running towards you. You meet him part of the way, and he’s throwing his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. There’s a huff of surprise that forces its way out upon the impact, but you don’t hesitate as you return the hug.

His voice is muffled, and you rub soothing circles on his back. “Dustin, I can’t understand you.” You keep your voice soft like you’re talking to a startled animal. It’s just a moment before he pulls back, and you’re met with a teary face. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you this summer,” Dustin’s words are rushed and come out as almost one sound. You find yourself shushing him and pulling him in for another hug. “You’re all good, it’s okay.”

You give him a minute to just feel his big feelings before you push him back. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you find you don’t have to bend down too far to meet his gaze. You wonder when he started getting so tall and remind yourself it was probably sometime this summer.

“Dustin, I’m not mad or upset or anything okay?” You wait for him to nod along to what you’re saying. “I’m sorry you got caught up in all this,” there’s enough stress on sorry that you think it could take off like a jet with the force you’re pushing it out. “Steve and I were the adults, you shouldn’t have been caught up in the middle, okay?”

Dustin looks like he’s going to argue, “No arguments! This was between us, and we should have made that clear.” Dustin stares at you for what feels like a minute before he nods.

“I’m gonna miss you,” is what Dustin tells you next. “Keith is never gonna be as cool as you. Whose going kick all the older kids off the games for me?” You laugh, happy to see him joking with you now.

“I’m going to miss you too, kid.” You give his shoulders a squeeze, “I’m going to give you a secret, use it responsibly, okay?” Dustin gives you an excited look and nods his head quickly, “I promise,” he says.

“If Keith gives you any trouble, just tell him that you know about Lucy.” Dustin has questions you can tell. “Keith won’t ask you to tell him, he’ll be too embarrassed. If he asks how you know, then you just tell him I told you. He’ll do whatever you want.”

There’s a part of you that feels like maybe you’ve given him too much power, but Dustin’s always been a smart kid and Keith has always been a dick to him, so you don’t feel too much remorse. Someone should be benefiting from the information anyway, and Dustin feels like the right one out of the party to hold on to the information.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” You quote to him, it’s a quip he used to tell Steve all the time before you started dating. Something from a comic book if you remember correctly.

Dustin’s smile is blinding, “You were always too cool for him you know, it’s his loss.” You smile and hope it doesn’t come off as sad as it feels. “Thanks, Dustin.”

You ruffle his hair, just like you had done to Will. Dustin bats at your hands and you push him toward the arcade, “Go spend time with your friends. I’ll see you in December.”

Dustin starts to go but turns back just as quickly. “You promise?” The happiness that had been there before has been replaced with worry again. “I pinky promise,” you hold out your pinky to show him you’re serious. Dustin comes back just to seal the promise and then waves goodbye again returning to the arcade.

The next morning, when every spare inch of space in your car is covered in your belongings, you finally feel like you could actually leave this place feeling okay. Things are not at all the way you thought they would be when the summer first started. You also still feel a weird sort of dread about attending college, but it feels like you could conquer it. If you could do this, this weird limbo break-up, then you think college can’t be that bad.

Your parents aren’t going with you. Despite their excitement and all the ways they’ve pushed you into this decision, they have both told you they feel you have to do this alone. Everything is set up for you, your dad has given you a paper with your new address on it and a credit card for emergencies. You know in both their eyes they’ve done their job as your parents. They’ve paved the way for success and now it’s your responsibility to make them proud.

It feels fitting that you leave Hawkins the same way you started the summer, all alone. You tell yourself that this is what you need. You tell yourself a lot of things as you make your way to the town line. You try not to look in the rearview mirror, too afraid that you’ll see everything you’re leaving behind and change your mind. You remind yourself it’s a few months, and that you can do this. You just hope that you aren’t lying to yourself. You may not feel happy, but you also don’t feel completely numb either. Maybe that’s the right type of progress though.

[silent-words]

cherries + gale 💜

I had to make a research on different kinds of cherries, so it took a long time to write. But now I'm prepared to present you a little fic that got suggestive in the second part. Nothing explicit, but you can count it as a foreplay.

The Intricacies of Cherries

Gale x F!Tav, Druid Tav, suggestive. Post-canon, Waterdeep.

Who would think a summer day in a coastal city would be utterly unbearable? In moments like these Tav really missed her faraway forest home. Hot and humid air with a scorching sun made her think Grymforge had been a comfortable place to exist. She didn’t miss the tadpoles and bedrolls though. In fact, she was hurrying towards her new home – a nice tower cooled by magic (and thick stone walls, of course). Today was her day off at work. She had just been to the market – the hottest place with sweaty people around, which was awful in itself. But she didn’t endure it all for nothing. She was carrying a tasty surprise for her husband.

When she entered the tower, a cool breeze made her dizzy at first. A slight heat stroke, but nothing her druid magic cannot heal. She heard a distinctive smell of delicious food being cooked and heard a melody hummed by a familiar voice. That meant Gale had returned from Blackstaff academy and was making them dinner. When she entered the kitchen, he turned to her and smiled:

‘Hello, my love! Where’ve you been today?’ He looked back at the stove to control the food. She started unpacking her bag of holding:

‘I’ve been to the market, love, and look what I’ve found there! My favourite berries: raspberry, blueberry, blackberry, cloudberry and cherry. I hope we’ll enjoy them together.’ She pulled little wicker baskets filled with berries of one kind each and put them on the table.

Gale strode towards the purchases and grinned: ‘What do you think about adding them to the ice cream? Ah,’ he looked at the cherries and furrowed his brow. Then he put his index finger uo and continued: ‘It seems you mixed up the cherries. This is the sour sort,’ he pointed towards the cherries in front of him, ‘they are used for baking and brewing cider. You should have bought the sweet sort, they are suitable for consumption as they are.’

‘Who are you that you should teach me, a druid, what kind of cherry this is?’ she crossed her arms. ‘While you have always been a city dweller, I spent a big part of my life in the forest. And these are the cherries we consumed, not the saccharine kind you call “cherry” here. You just need to get used to the taste.’ She was offended that this magic man didn’t want to understand the obvious.

‘Get used to?’ Gale laughed. ‘I beg your pardon, but I remember, when I was a very young boy, I stormed into my mother’s kitchen, took a mouthful of cherries and tried to eat them. It was so sour that tears started running down my cheeks. Then she told me that these cherries were meant to be a filler for cherry dumplings. The dumplings were still delicious, but I learnt the lesson that day.’ He gave Tav a warm look. That charming look that made her forgive him for anything. ‘Every time I see them I remember that day and that acidic taste in my mouth.’

‘Okay, Gale, I can never properly argue with you. I was taught to eat them since before I could remember, that must be the reason why I enjoy eating them. I can think of making you a better memory to associate with sour cherries. Teaching you properly to eat them, so to speak.’ She gave him a mischievous smirk. ‘But only after dinner.’

‘Your wish is my command, my lady.’ He put the fire off and started to dish out the food.

* * *

It was not long after dinner when Tav was sitting on a balcony, a bowl of thoroughly washed cherries on the table by her side. She had already changed into the silken summer dress she wore at home, which was coloured in pink and orange by the setting sun.

‘What a sight to behold,’ she suddenly heard Gale saying. When she turned to the door, she saw her husband leaning on the door-post. He wore his linen shirt, half-unbuttoned and with his rolled up to his elbows. His skin, even more tanned in summer than usual, was a stark contrast to white linen. She looked wistfully at his forearms, his damp hair fresh from a bath, his smile and his eyes that seemed to devour her.

‘I remember you wished to show me something about the sour cherries,’ he chuckled, ‘I promise I’ll be an obedient student.’ Gale walked towards Tav and sat beside her. She resisted the urge to kiss him immediately. Instead she took a cherry and held it between her thumb and middle finger.

‘At first you need to watch carefully,’ she said and slowly brought the cherry to her lips. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Gale swallowing hard but never looking away. She bit through the skin of the cherry and felt the sour juice run into her mouth and down her chin. Her husband’s breath quickened. She threw the kernel into the bowl and said:

‘Now you can taste the juice on my lips.’ He didn’t need to be told twice. He licked the juice from her lips and kissed them. But the kiss was short, for he was too excited about what would come next. Tav smiled and ran her clean hand through his hair.

‘Good boy. Now, to the next part of our lesson.’ She took another cherry and popped it above the neckline of her dress. The juice ran down her hand, but a few drops reached the destination and made their way under the fabric. When she looked at Gale, his pupils were dilated. He swallowed again. ‘Now you can taste the berry with my fingers,’ Tav whispered, for Gale was very close to her now. He took her fingers into his mouth obediently, and, while wincing at the sour taste, he still shut his eyes and moaned with pleasure. Soon she withdrew her hand. ‘You did so well. Now as a bonus you can catch those droplets that escaped under my dress.’ Gale licked a stripe between her breasts.

‘As much as I enjoy the lesson,’ he looked into her eyes with burning desire visible in them, ‘I think I’ll never enjoy raw sour cherries. However,’ he gave her a mischievous grin, ‘I am all too curious to find out where those droplets might end up. And for this thorough analysis I would require a special environment,’ he stood up and extended his hand towards her, ‘so I suggest we go to the bedroom, my lady.’

‘I’m thrilled at the prospect of bearing witness to such meticulous research.’ She took his hand and stood up. ‘Shall we?’

[age-of-greta]

The Sun

The Sun presents a feeling of optimism and fulfillment. It represents the dawn which follows the darkest of nights.

Author’s note: hi!! Welcome back to The Sun! Sorry it’s been a while, life is busy and I try to write when I can. I hope you enjoy this ~spicy~ chapter

Pairing: Josh x reader & Jake x reader

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, smutttttttt, minors DNI

Word count: 8.3k

PART 3:

“I’m actually so depressed that you’re leaving me for a week.” You groaned, as you plopped down on his bed.

“I know. I’m not sure how you’re going to survive without me.” Josh said, throwing a pair of socks into his bag.

You huffed and folded your arms. Josh was about to leave you for a whole entire week. Well, really just five days, but close enough. He was going to meet with a vocal coach to prepare him for the sound of their new album. You were really bummed about it. You and Josh had spent virtually everyday together for weeks. He was your best friend and the thought of him leaving to go to LA made you feel sick. You wondered if he would be going to lavish parties with other people in the industry. Would he meet other people? Other girls? That’s completely normal worries to have about your best friend, right?

“What time is your flight tomorrow again?” You ask, picking at the ends of your hair.

“8:45 am.”

“And we’re still getting breakfast before I take you to the airport?”

Josh chuckles. “I hope so.”

“Okay.” You respond.

Josh closes his bag and sits down next to you. “I wish I didn’t have to go either. But it’s only a few days and I’ll call you as much as I can.”

You smile at him. “I know. I’m being such a baby about this.”

He smiles back and places his hand on your knee. “I think it’s sweet.”

Your eyes meet his and you feel a strange feeling brewing.

“Hey Josh, do you need this?”

You remove your eyes and see Jake standing in the doorway holding a neck pillow. He makes a face when sees you and Josh.

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.” Josh responds, getting up and grabbing the pillow from Jake.

“Didn’t know you were here Sug.” Jake says, crossing his arms.

You nod. “I’m taking Josh to the airport in the morning.”

Jake bites his lip. “Hm, okay.”

He glances you over once more before heading back down the hallway.

“Alright, I think I’m finally packed.” Josh throws all of his bags by the door and turns back to you. “Wanna order Chinese?”

“Oh yes please. I’m starving.” You say dramatically.

“Okay. You mind asking everyone else if they want anything? I’m going to throw all of this in the car and make a phone call real quick.”

You salute him. “Yes sir. Can do.”

Josh drags his bags down the stairs while you wonder around the halls looking for the other three.

“Danny?” You knock on his door. No response. “Sam?” You yell down the hallway. Nothing. You huff heading downstairs, but it’s also a ghost town. Finally, you open the back door and see Jake sitting by the fire pit reading. You glance around, still not seeing anyone else before deciding to head over and approach him. “Um, hey have you seen Sam or Danny?”

Jake glances up at you and slides his sunglasses off his nose. “They’re gone.”

“Oh.” You state. “Josh and I are ordering Chinese food and we wanted to see if anyone else wanted anything.”

He closes his book and turns to face you. “You can sit, you know.”

You glance down at the chair next to Jake and decide to take a seat. “What are you reading?”

Jake grins at you. “The Hobbit.”

You let out a laugh. “Again?!”

He nods his head. “Yeah. It’s one of the greatest novels of all time.”

“You and your Tolkien.” You huff. “It is one of the best books I’ve ever read though.”

Jake looks at you incredulously. “You read it?”

You nod. “And The Lord of the Rings trilogy.”

“When?”

You shrug. “Not super long ago.”

You didn’t want to tell him you had read all of those novels to try and feel closer to him. But once you started reading them, you had actually enjoyed them quite a bit.

“You’re full of surprises Sugar. Always keeping me on my toes.” Jake says, still smiling largely at you.

Josh walks outside and sits next to you. “So what’s the verdict?”

You clear your throat. “Sam and Danny aren’t here.”

Josh raises his eyebrows. “Oh lovely. Jake, what do you want?”

Jake stretches out a little. His shirt rises ever so slightly and reveals a small sliver of his stomach. You try not to look but fail. “I’m good.”

Josh makes a face at him. “You love Chinese food.”

Jake shrugs. “I’ll be out later.”

“Mhm.” Josh nods. “Holly or Katie?”

Jake shoots his twin a foul look.

Josh throws his hands up then faces you. “Okay. Wanna go get this order started.”

“Yep.” You say coolly, getting up to follow Josh.

As you walk away you glance back at Jake. He’s looking at you, like he wants to say something. But he doesn’t say anything, so neither do you.

**

“This is so freaking good.” You say, plopping chopsticks full of noodles into your mouth.

Josh smiles at you while chewing. “I told you. I have the best recommendations.”

You were both sprawled out on his bed watching an old western film that you had never seen before, but Josh definitely had.

“Josh?” You say, timidly turning towards him.

He glances over to you. “Hm?”

You purse your lips in contemplation before speaking. “I really have enjoyed spending so much time with you. You’re my best friend.”

He bites back what appears to be the beginning of a grimace before smiling back softly at you. “I have too. I love you, you know.”

You grin at him. “I know.”

He bites his lip. “Do you?”

You stare at him and give him a soft smile. Unsure as to where he might be going with this. Josh lets out a bated breath and reaches close to your face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. For some reason your heart is pounding. It’s getting louder, but it’s not your heart. You jolt when you realize someone is beating on Josh’s door.

“Oh what the fuck.” He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He groans and opens the door to see Sam standing there. “What?” Josh bites.

Sam furrows his brows at Josh and then glances over to you. “Sorry to disturb you… I just wanted to come by and wish you well on your travels before I went out tonight. If I’m successful, I won’t be home this evening.”

Sam gives Josh a wink and Josh clears his throat. “Yes, well thank you Sam. Good luck to you as well.”

He grins at his brother and shifts his eyes to you. “Will we be seeing you at all this week?”

You shrug. “I’m not sure. I’ve got a busy work week ahead and I really need to hang some shelves in my bathroom.”

“I told you I’ll do that for you when I get back. You're not the greatest at making things level.” Josh pokes.

Sam fake gasps and nudges his brother. “What a gentleman. If you get bored after work or are looking for trouble, you know where to find us.” Sam says with a wink.

You huff a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Well, I don't want to hold you guys up any longer. Good luck Josh. Love you guys!” Then Sam is waltzing away to get into God knows what.

Josh closes his door and lets out a chuckle. “He’s going to be the death of me one day.”

You shake your head. “He loves you.”

He smiles at you. “He’s a little shit.”

“Can’t argue with you there.” You say, smiling back at him.

Josh rejoins you on the bed, picking up his container of rice and scooting ever so closer to you than he was before.

After you both had finished eating you had cleaned up and longued about before getting ready for bed. You grabbed your micellar water and doused it on a cotton pad to remove your mascara. You smiled when you glanced at the place it had lived in Josh’s bathroom. In fact, you had a whole shelf full of your small toiletries that you needed when you stayed over. After completing a quick version of your nightly routine you slid in bed next to Josh, adjusting your pillow just how you liked it.

“I need to get you softer pillows for when you stay over huh?” Josh laughs.

“I don’t know how you sleep on these flat things.” You say, fluffing up the pillow.

“Believe it or not, sleeping on flatter pillows is better for singers. It helps even out the breath in your sleep, leaving better airflow for your vocal chords.”

You make a slightly surprised face at him. “Wait, really?”

He turns and smirks at you. “I have no idea. I just made all of that up. Flat pillows are better though.”

You playfully smacked his chest, leaving your hand there. “Josh! I totally bought that. I think I would believe anything you said to me. That’s a dangerous quality to have. You should start a cult.”

He scooted closer to you. “Yeah? Would you be a member?”

You grinned at him. “Oh, I’d be your biggest fan. Give me that Kool-Aid, no questions asked.”

He snickered at that. “Good to know. Loyalty is of utmost importance when embarking on such a journey.”

You absentmindedly fidgeted with his necklaces. “Loyalty is everything. But I would need to know what my leader thinks the meaning of life is?”

He puts his arm out while you nuzzle yourself into it. This was somewhat of a new position. But you two were best friends, so testing the waters was platonic of course. This is what you told yourself as you took in his scent in an anything but innocent way. “The meaning of life?”

Josh pondered for a minute, lightly tracing circles on your arm. “To be happy and to be with people you love. Where there is love, we must live on. Where there is not love, we must provide it.”

You fluttered your eyes closed, feeling sleep sinking in. “I like that. You’re very poetic.”

He turns his head towards you and places a small kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight sleepy girl.”

**

You groggily woke up the next morning at an ungodly hour. Josh still had his arm lightly across you. You gently lifted it up, smiling at his soft snores and scooted out underneath him. You quietly crept to the bathroom doing a small routine before slinking down the stairs. You wanted to make Josh some coffee and surprise him with cooked breakfast before he headed off this morning. You tried to remain quiet through the house, not wanting to disturb anyone. Then you remembered you were probably the only two here. That wasn’t the case when you turned the corner and saw Jake sitting at the kitchen island. He was in a pair of very worn navy sweatpants with a steaming cup of coffee sitting next to the same book from earlier. He had made significant progress through the pages since you last saw him. It was early. Did he just make it back from whatever he did last night? You tried not to make any sound, but your heart sunk when you realized the sweatpants he was wearing were a gift from you.

“Morning.” You said lightly as you entered the kitchen.

Jake glanced up at you, almost surprised to see you. “Good morning.”

You began to clink around with the mugs, trying to act entirely normal.

“Sleep well?” Jake asked from behind you.

You nod your head, placing two stone mugs on the counter. “I did. How was your… night?”

Jake shrugged. “Got a lot of work done in the studio. Then came back and crashed.”

The studio. He was there. Not at someone else’s house. That made you feel relieved and it ate you alive simultaneously that you even cared.

“I don’t remember you being an early riser.” You poked, pressing buttons on the fancy coffee machine.

He half smiled at you. “I’m full of surprises too Sug.”

You met his eyes and couldn’t help but grin back at him. “I’ve changed a bit.” He offers, in a quieter tone, his expression too serious to read.

You swallow hard, trying to figure out what to say. Trying to figure out just what he meant.

Your thoughts are plundered by the soft padding of Josh making his way into the kitchen. “Morning.” He says through a long stretch and yawn. He eyes Jake. “Why are you up?”

“Wanted to get a jump start on my day I suppose.” Jake responds to his twin, rather flatly.

Josh turns to you and smiles. “Is that my coffee?”

You let out a small laugh and nod.

“You’re my absolute favorite person, you know that?” Josh gushes as he heads over to you and wraps you in a hug while grabbing his coffee.

You giggle at him. “So sappy Joshy.”

He plants a kiss on your head dramatically. “Ah, just for you.”

Jake clears his throat.

You're transported back to reality for a moment and realize how cozy you and Josh are. To you, this felt normal. Natural even. But you could see how it might look to Jake.

“Anyway, I had planned on making you breakfast before your big trip. But it appears you only have Ritz crackers and margarita mix.”

Josh laughs. “Now that is a meal. Don’t sweat it, let me go get everything ready and we’ll stop somewhere before you drop me off.”

Josh grabs his mug and darts off towards the stairs, leaving you and Jake in silence. You take a few sips of your coffee, leaning against the countertops. Jake has resumed reading his book while absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the counter. You had come to learn this was something he did when he had a particular riff stuck in his head.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Better go get ready.”

He glanced over at you. “Sure.”

You couldn’t help but notice the bite in his tone.

**

It was too early for any normal breakfast place to be open so you and Josh settled at a Dunkin Donuts close to the airport.

“Pink frosted sprinkled donuts are my spirit animal I think.” You joked, biting into your sweet treat.

Josh smiled at you. “That donut is an embodiment of you.”

“Philosophical Joshua. I have a confession though…”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Do tell.”

“Pink frosted sprinkle donut. Right? But what’s the flavor? It doesn’t taste like artificial strawberry or like medicine, bubblegum or cotton candy. The taste is simply… pink.”

Josh cackles and claps at your revelation. “Oh my god. You finally get it now babe.”

Babe? That was new. It made a warmness flutter in your chest.

You tried not to sound bashful. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Josh smiled at you as he licked chocolate frosting from his thumb and sighed. “We should head over soon.”

You frowned. “You’re probably right.”

He grins. “That’s typically the case.”

You fake roll your eyes. “Can it.”

You put your car in reverse and drive the short distance to the drop off at the airport. Josh is lightly humming to a Joe Cocker song that had come on shuffle. Somehow during the short ride his hand found it’s way on yours. You tried not to think too much on it, but it felt nice. What the fuck was happening to you?

The bustle of the airport was still chaotic even at this ungodly hour.

“Fuck.” Josh muttered.

“Hey, be safe okay? Keep me updated on when you land and all that.” You say.

“Yes ma’am. Thank you for taking me. I really appreciate everything.”

You softly smile at him. “Of course.”

“Well.” He groans. “Better go before that whistle starts blowing.”.

He leans over and grips you in a tight hug before grabbing his carry-on and opening the door.

“It’s not really a goodbye. Just a farewell for now.” Josh offers with a bright smile, standing at the door.

“Okay people move along!” One of the traffic officers yell accompanied by a whistle.

“See? Told ya. These fuckin whistles.” Josh scoffs.

You laugh at him. “Be safe! Come back in one piece please.”

He winks at you. “I’ll try.”

**

A dreadfully boring Wednesday had rolled around. The week had already been long, you had been in the office the past three days. It was now nearing dark and you were so excited to throw some frozen orange chicken in the air fryer and make a lazy version of stirfry as soon as you had gotten home. Traffic had been brutal and you were on the final stretch, finally making that turn towards your townhome. You parked your car and grabbed your work tote, thankful that you only had one more day to work this week until you had three days off. Subsequently, you were so excited to see Josh again. You two had kept in touch of course calling and texting, but you were both also busy. You unlocked your door and kicked your black heels off at the door. You threw your tote bag and baby blue blazer down on the table. You know you shouldn’t cook dinner in your work attire, but your stomach is too empty for you to care. You tied an apron around your waist, trying to hide the white bodysuit and baby blue slacks from any stains. Then you got to work taking out your frozen vegetables and putting them in the skillet with oil. You put on a Dire Straits album and swayed around your kitchen as you let your mind wander. It was liberating doing such a mundane task after a long day. A knock at your door disrupted your thoughts. You made at face and glanced at your phone. No texts from anyone and you weren’t expecting company. You wiped your hand on a dish towel and felt ready to let whoever was on the other side of that door that they needed to go. But when you opened the door you were taken aback slightly. It was Jake. He had a toolbox on hand.

“Good evening Sugar.” He smirked.

You furrowed your brows at him. “Jake, what are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Sam had mentioned something about some bathroom shelves.”

You pursed your lips together. “I can hang them.”

He laughed and stepped by you into your house. “As if. Come on let me do this for you Sugs. Friends remember?”

You huffed a little. “Okay. Well, um I’m cooking dinner. Orange chicken stirfry. Would you like some?”

He smiled at you. “Absolutely. Nice place you got here. Want to direct me to where you would like these shelves?”

**

You had lit a scented candle. Why? You don’t know. For some reason you were nervous. You could hear Jake with a drill in your bathroom as you anxiously tapped your fingers as you plated the food. You took two plates and sat it on your kitchen table, then grabbed two wine glasses and your favorite bottle of moscato. You placed everything down, took your apron off, and smoothed your hair before heading towards your bathroom. He was just finishing hanging the first shelf. His brows pinched up in concentration, while he had a drill bit hanging out of his mouth. He had always been a perfectionist.

“Looks good.” You say, standing in the doorway crossing your arms.

He pops the drill bit out of his mouth and turns to give you a smile. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Dinner’s ready.”

You turn back heading towards the kitchen and hear Jake picking up. He joins you just a few minutes after and takes a seat across from you while you scroll on your phone.

“Oh Sug, this smells great.” He says with a smirk.

You place your phone down and force a laugh. “Thanks. Most of it is frozen though. I rarely have time to cook anything else. Wine?”

“Please.” He says, tipping his glass towards you.

You uncork the bottle and pour the chilled wine half way full in each glass.

“It’s my favorite. Not too sweet, not too bitter.”

Jake swirls the wine around in the glass and brings it to his nose before taking a sip. “Wow okay, yeah. You have good taste.”

You shrug and try to act like that’s not a huge compliment coming from him as you poke around your plate with your fork.

“So, tell me all about you. What’s new?” Jake asks, taking a bite of food.

You hum. “Nothing too exciting. I work a lot. I occasionally go out and I enjoy going to the park to read.”

“Enthralling stuff there honey. But let’s cut the boring shit here. That’s not us. What’s really been going on? Have you dated anyone seriously since me?”

You can’t help but smile at his bluntness. “No, not seriously anyway. Have you?”

“No.” He responds with a grin.

You take a sip of your wine. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

He raises an eyebrow at you but keeps that grin on his face. “How come?”

“Well Jake, you’re not exactly relationship material.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Maybe not for most. But I was for you.”

You felt your cheeks grow pink. Fuck. Why did he affect you like this? Play it cool. “Right.”

“Despite everything. I always thought about you. Wondered about how you were, what you were doing, who you were with. Sometimes I would think I would look out into the crowd at a show and see you there.” He admitted, flicking his gaze towards the table as he talked.

The wine had made you feel warm inside, at least you told yourself that was the reason. “I’ve been fine. Building my career, working on myself, loving myself.” You paused, finding those honey brown eyes. “But of course I had thought about you too. From time to time.”

He smiled at your acknowledgment. “Well hot damn. After all of this time, look at us huh? Who would’ve thought we’d end up here?”

You shook your head and laughed. “Not me.”

After you two had wrapped up dinner and finished the whole entire bottle of wine you had changed into lounge clothes and migrated to your couch, spending hours talking and giggling. At some point Jake’s hand found its way to rest on your calf as you sat criss cross facing him while he leaned towards you.

“So moral of the story, that’s why Sam no longer drinks kombucha before shows.”

You giggled at his stories as he tried to fill you in on every major detail that had happened since you two had last been together.

“God you really have lived an adventure huh?” You ask, twisting the ends of your hair.

He nods. “And I hope it’s only getting started. It’s been so surreal and being here in Nashville makes me want to stay. There’s so many different people and the weather. Oh the weather.”

You nod your head. “That’s what did it for me. I don’t think I would survive a full Michigan winter again.”

He placed his hand on your hip and began to tickle you. “Nope. You’re too warm blooded now.”

You leaned back in a fit of laughter. “Jake! Stopppp!”

He continued and leaned over you. “Mhm I know all your spots Sugar.”

He finally stops and you brush your hair out of your face. He’s essentially on top of you, in between your legs. “You’re such a little shit. You know that?” You say lightheartedly.

He leans closer to you, the tip of his hair tickling your collarbones. “Now that’s not nice to say darlin. Do I need to remind you how sweet I can be too?”

Your heart is thumping in your chest as you two make fierce eye contact with each other. The wine has you feeling giddy. But, you’re saved by the bell as your phone begins to ring loudly on the coffee table. It jolts you from your thoughts and your position. You reach over and grab your phone seeing “Josh” pop up on your screen along with a silly picture of you two.

“One sec.” You say to Jake, who clearly seems disappointed. You run to your room and close the door.

“Hello?”

His chipper voice rings back at you. “Hey there, pretty lady. It’s been an insanely busy day, I’ve just now got a five minute break to have my own thoughts. What have you been up to today?”

You clear your throat, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “Oh you know, same old same old. Just a long day of working. I made stir fry for dinner.”

He sighs into the phone. “Now that sounds good. I’ve been living mostly on takeout and party foods.”

You huff a laugh. “Party foods? Oh poor you.”

He returns your laugh. “I know it’s rough out here. Hey listen they’re about to call back for me. It was good to hear your voice. I’ll give you a call tomorrow?”

“You better. Have fun, be safe.”

You collected yourself and cleared your throat before heading back into your living area. You found Jake in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner.

“Everything okay?” He asked, rinsing a plate.

“Mhm. Yeah yeah, just checking in. Hey you don’t have to clean up. I can do it.” You offer, stepping in to help.

He shakes his head. “No, I got it. I’m going to finish up and I’ll be out of your hair. I know you have work tomorrow.”

You nod, trying to decipher if you were relieved or disappointed.

“Care if I come back by tomorrow to put that other shelf in?” He asks with a soft smile.

“Sure. I can make dinner again.”

And you did. He had come over again Thursday night, installed your shelf, and you two had made pizzas together. A flood of nostalgia flooded you as you two had rolled the dough out. Jake put a dab of flour on your cheek and you returned the favor with pizza sauce. This was a date you two had before, but this time there was no arguing. In fact, the night had gone quite pleasantly. You had watched a movie and Jake went home after. He kept his hands, mostly to himself- which surprised you. You had woken up on Friday morning in a haze. The past two days had felt surreal with Jake. Part of you had believed maybe you had hallucinated the whole thing, but when you saw how perfectly your shelves were hung you smiled to yourself. Josh would be home Sunday morning, but all you could think about is if Jake would try to come by again. You checked your phone. Nothing but a Snapchat from Josh. In the past two days you had unblocked Jake and even shared a text or two. You decided to try and push him out of your mind and switched it up today, going for a hot yoga class. This was a little further of a drive than your pilates studio, but the drive cleared your mind. After yoga you felt energized and grabbed a coffee to get you through the rest of the day. You decided to stop at a shopping plaza to treat yourself. While gandering at all the pretty little things you felt your phone vibrating in your purse.

Jake.

Your heartbeat picked up and you felt a rush go through you as you answered.

“Good morning Sugar. Do you have any plans later?”

You decided to play it cool. “Nothing too concrete. Why?”

“Great. I’ll pick you up later. Before you ask, wear whatever you want. You look good in anything. I’m about to head to the studio, but be ready by 8.”

You glanced at the black lacy matching set you had in your hands. This would do.

**

7:58. You stared at the clock on your wall, tapping your fingers absentmindedly on your couch as you waited for Jake. You felt unusually nervous, as if you hadn’t been on a date with him before. Was this a date? Who in the hell knew. Your feelings were scattered everywhere. But the one thing you knew was that Jake had sunk his claws right into you again. Everything inside of you was screaming no while also simultaneously screaming yes. You had decided on a casual little orange dress that complimented your tan perfectly with platform sandals and gold jewelry. You put loose curls in your hair and did an ample amount of makeup. You felt summery and pretty. You hoped Jake would think so as well.

A knock on your door at 8 pm sharp jolted you from your thoughts.

“Hello gorgeous.” Jake said, stepping in and handed you a small bouquet of red roses.

“Do friends buy each other flowers?” You ask, trying to play off that this was the first time he had ever gotten you flowers.

He smirked at you. “They can. Ready to go?”

You two had ended up at a stylish little cocktail garden across town. Jake had reserved a table on the rooftop, pretty hidden from the rest of the crowd. You both selected different specialty cocktails and ordered a quite large charcuterie board.

“This place is cute.” You said sipping your drink and surveying your surroundings.

He flashed you a smile. “I thought you might think so. Very ‘Nashville.’”

You laugh. “Jake, baby, not every place with neon signs is distinctly Nashville.”

You feel your blood run cold as you just realized you had let that word slip out. Fuck these drinks were strong.

Of course he had noticed it too and bit down on his straw giving you a sly smile with those eyes. “Sure, but the fake flowers on the wall and shitty country music makes it feel that way.”

You hold your hands up in defense. “Hey I know you love your dingy little hole in the walls. But time and place for everything. At least enjoy the oxygen that isn’t littered with cigarette smoke.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Since when is cigarette smoke a problem for you?”

You grab your straw and perhaps suggestively take a sip while locking eyes with him. “Time and place for everything Jake.”

When the charcuterie board arrived you both had picked at the selections while continuing to drink. You giggled and laughed and then giggled some more. You were smitten with him yet again. You weren’t dumb, you knew it wouldn’t last. The hell would come. But for now, you allowed yourself to keep your head in the clouds.

“I don’t think I can drive Sugs. Care if we Uber back?” Jake asks, finishing off drink number-hell you had lost count.

“That’s a smart idea. Gonna go to the bathroom before we leave.” You slightly slurred.

The walk to the bathroom proved a little off-kilter. You were on the cusp of tipsy and your brain was swirling with bad decisions.

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, lightly rolling on lipgloss and fluffing your hair before making your way back out. Jake had already taken care of the tab and was waiting for you out front.

“Uber should be here in about 15 minutes.”

You nodded and followed him into a crowded elevator. You two had to squeeze in, which meant you were pressed into each other. Jake glanced down at you with a certain look in his eye that made your mouth water. His hand snaked around your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip. A spot that he knew would rile you up. You bit your lip and held your breath. You didn’t dare breathe again until you were at the bottom.

“That elevator was pretty cramped huh?” You played, stepping outside of the building.

He shrugged, matching your walking pace up the sidewalk. “I didn’t mind it.”

You lightly shoved him. “I’m sure you didn’t.”

He smirked at you. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

You shoved him again, slightly harder. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do about it?”

He signed. “You’re done Sugs.” He scooped you up and tickled at your side.

“Jake!” You giggled out through laughter. “Put me down! Jake I swear!”

He continued. “Or what Sugs?”

“Jacob Thomas!”

He laughed. “Okay fine. Fine. No need for government names.”

He placed you down and you braced up against the concrete wall and you fixed your hair that had gone wild. “You don’t play fair.”

He stepped up closer to you and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “There. Perfect as always.”

His eyes searched for yours, his gaze intensely switching to your lips. Fuck it. You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and kissed him, hard. There was zero protest from him as his hands immediately found your waist. Warmth flooded your senses and you felt entirely weightless. You lightly bit his bottom lip which caused a small groan to leave his mouth.

“Now who’s not playing fair?” He growled into your ear as his fingers found that spot on your hip.

The intense session was interrupted by Jake’s phone buzzing. He cleared his throat. “Uber’s here.”

You nodded and took his hand as he led you into the car. Neither one of you spoke the whole entire ride home. Jake kept his hand firmly planted on your upper thigh while both of you took stolen glances at one another.

“Thanks.” Jake said, tossing a stack of bills at the driver.

He guided you up to the door, standing close as you fidgeted with your keys.

Finally, once inside and the door was closed. His lips were on yours again. His hands running wildly up and down your body, your hands in his hair as you two shuffled through your house. Somehow you two had made your way into the kitchen.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He panted in between kisses.

He backed you up against the counter, his eyes glaring into yours. Then his rough hands run under your thighs as he lifts you and places you on the counter. Neither one of you had dared to speak yet. Then Jake broke the silence.

“So pretty.” He spat, as his hands ran up under your dress.

You were impossibly turned on. Anticipation sat in your throat like a softball.

You bit your lip as his hands hooked around your panties. He pulled them down and scooted you closer to him. He bunched up your dress right to the very beginning of your thighs.

“So fucking pretty.” He stated again.

You squirmed under his touch as he raked his fingertips around your inner thighs.

“Jake, stop teasing.” You said, though it came out more as a beg.

He smiled at you, then craned his head down and kissed you on your sweetest spot.

A jolt ran through your body.

“So needy. My pretty girl, so needy for me.” He says with a smirk. “Let’s see how wet you are, Sugar.”

He takes one finger and slides it in between you, just grazing. You slightly buck your hips, desperate for some sort of friction. Desperate for that feeling that only Jake had given you.

“Whew, fuck Sugar.” Jake says, taking that same finger and popping it in his mouth. “So sweet, just like I remember. So wet for me.”

You huff out at him. You’re beyond ready to beg, but he can’t have that satisfaction. You have to play the game right back. “As if you’re not about to bulge out of your pants right now. Face it Jake, you’ve never had better.”

He grips your thighs. “You’re right about that. You drive me crazy Sugar. Especially when that pretty mouth says such filthy things.”

“Jake.” You say looking down at him, batting your eyelashes. “Can you just shut up and fuck me?”

His mouth falls open slightly at that and he stares up at you completely enamored.

You use this as an opportunity to tease him. You slide back and open your legs a little more.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” You say with as much sex in your voice that you could muster.

Jake takes in a deep breath and then a devilish smirk appears on his face. “No.” He starts. “But it’s about to.”

He licks a stripe up your thigh whilst holding eye contact with you. Then, he smiles before burying his face in between your legs.

You arch your back and tilt your head backwards as soft moans escape your lips. Jake shimmys your dress up even further, then slides his fingers into you.

“Fuck.” You whined, which only egged him on further.

“Yeah come on baby. Give me all of those pretty little sounds.” He begged.

His fingers worked expertly with his mouth. Like he had your body etched into his mind and he knew how to make you unraveled. Just as you were right there, white hot- he stopped. You unclenched your eyes and looked down at him in shock. He smirked back up at you and lightly bit your thigh.

“Come on Sugs. What’s the rush? Let’s take this to your room.”

You scoffed at him, hopping off the counter and pulling your panties back up. You were bewildered, but you knew him edging you was a sick little kink of his. You followed him into your bedroom where your lips connected once more. You unbuttoned his shirt while he kicked off his shoes. You pushed him back onto the bed where he raised up on his elbows and watched you intently. You slowly began to pull at the sleeves on your dress and dropped it to the floor, leaving you just in the black lacy little number you had just bought.

“God damn.” Jake barely whispered as he watched you with full blown lust.

“Oh this little thing?” You teased running your hands over the lace.

He swallowed hard. “Fuck. You are so fucking hot. I- Get over here please.”

You laughed. “I thought there was no rush?”

You turned around walking towards your dresser, giving him a nice show of your plump ass.

“Oh my god.” He all but groaned. You could sense him twitching over there, just itching to get his hands on you.

You struck a match and lit a small candle. “That’s better isn’t it?”

He nodded.

You walked over to him, slowly. His eyes were trained on you. You straddled his lap and his hands immediately found your hips, the whole entire time you stared into each other’s eyes. So much unspoken. So much unsaid. He leaned in and kissed you with fervor. His hands immediately gripping at the flesh of your ass. You were the first to slip out your tongue, but were met eagerly with his. You worked quickly to undo his belt and pants. He managed to shimmy them off while never breaking the kiss. You both leaned by entirely, you slowly grinded down onto his boxers causing him to almost lose it right there. You would start and get him worked up, then stop. Playing his own game right back at him. This earned you a swift smack on your ass. “You little tease.”

You sat up, fully shifting your lower half on top of him. “What’s wrong Jakey? Can dish it out but can’t take it?”

He let out a laugh. “We gonna play these games all night or are you going to let me fuck you? I can ruin that pretty makeup by having you in tears, begging me to let you come. Or I can fuck you so hard you won’t be able to think straight. Both are equally intriguing to me. Your choice baby.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Still think you’re up for the task? Can you even make me come, Jake?”

In a swift motion he flipped you over, him now on top of you. He pinned your hands above your head, holding them there. “Such a little brat. I could think of a better way to put that mouth to use. Looks like you chose the hard way.”

Excitement bubbled in your chest. No one ever got you this worked up, it was only him.

He released your hands and ripped your panties off of you. He pulled the fabric apart until it ripped.

“Jake!”

He didn’t flinch. “I’ll buy you one hundred more of these, especially if I can take them off of you like this.”

He grabbed your hands again, tying them up in the now ripped lace fabric. He slides down next to you, his fingers finding your center to begin work. After a few seconds you’re already squirming.

“Thought you were clever huh Sug? Asking me if I still can make you come?”

You flutter your eyes closed, trying to recenter yourself. Jake slapped your core. “Eh uh. Eyes on me.”

You pry your eyes open to watch him, trying your best to act like you weren’t on fire inside.

He kissed below your navel, making your shutter. “Did you miss me?”

You refused to answer that.

“Mhm I think you did. Do you touch yourself and think of me?” He asked, in a sickeningly sweet voice as he continued his descent.

“No.” You say, calmly.

He nips at your thigh. “It’s okay if you do. Sometimes I find myself thinking of you, late at night.”

You huffed as he continued to tease you.

“Not as sweet as the real thing though.” He made contact making an obscene slurping sound that made you twitch.

Then he stopped again coming back up to kiss you.

“Taste that? That’s you. My sweet girl.”

“You’ve made your point. Just fucking touch me.” You all but whined.

He chuckled at you. “So demanding.”

He unties your hands while freeing himself from his boxers. Then he flips you around and spreads your knees wider. You arch your back, silently begging for him to enter you.

“Fuck. Now there’s a view I would never get tired of.”

He slides himself all around you, still trying to tease you, but you could tell he was faultering. Slowly, he sunk into you. A moan left both of your mouths. He took his time but finally pushed himself all the way in.

“Ah fuck. Fuck baby.” He cooed.

He reached down and pulled you up, so you were flushed with him. Then reached down and rubbed at your bundles of nerves, sending you almost right over the edge.

“Jake- fuck don’t stop.” You whined.

He bit at your jaw. “Who fucks you like this? Who is the only person who will ever fuck you like this?”

“You! It’s you.” You barely spit out.

That warmness spread all over your body and you were about to explode. You squeezed him with everything you had.

“That’s right. You’re such a good girl Sugar. Fuck.” He grunted.

“Jake I’m- I’m.”

He removed his hand. “I know. I wanna see your face when you come for me.”

He unclasped your bra, tossing it to the side and flipped you over on your back.

“Fucking gorgeous.”

His hands massaged your breasts before lightly biting at your hardened nipples.

You were now in the home stretch, both of you struggling to hold on. Jake hooked your leg up over his shoulder and started to pound into you.

You could see the sweat beginning to trickle on him as his hair stuck to his face and neck. He guided your hand down to your sweet spot and guided you. “Almost there baby. Eyes on me.”

You locked eyes with him and that’s all it took. That wave came crashing down, completely washing you away with it. Jake was right behind you and you could feel him release into you. You gripped his shoulders while his mouth found yours, swallowing all of your sounds.

“Shit.” Jake groaned, rolling off of you. Both of you absolutely spent. Sweat, sex, and panting still filled the air. You reached over and grabbed a pack of American Spirits from your bedside table, they were old but necessary. You flicked a lighter and lit it while Jake looked at you with a smirk.

You shrugged and met his eyes. “Time and place for everything. Remember?”

**

Light filtered in through your blinds the next morning gently waking you. You turned to your side. Empty. Should have figured. Fuck, you were sore. You groaned as you stretched out making your way to the bathroom. You jumped in the shower to wash off the smell of sex and nicotine then brushed your teeth. You couldn’t tell if you were slightly hungover or slightly sad. Of course he left, that’s what he does. Coffee. You needed coffee badly. You tossed a giant band tee on and some cotton underwear and combed through your hair before padding out into your living room. Also empty. The refrigerator was embarrassingly barren. Leftover pizza, expired creamer, and strawberries. You needed to go to the grocery store, badly. You snickered at the thought of Josh seeing your refrigerator like this. He would playfully scold you and force you to Publix. You missed him. A loud noise crashed through your apartment and you jolted out of your thoughts.

“Jake? What the fuck! You scared me!” You clutched your chest.

Jake had bounded through the door with a coffee carrier and brown paper bags. A sight you never thought you would see.

“Don’t look so surprised to see me Sugs. Did you think I would have just up and left.” He asked with a smirk.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh. “Well yeah.”

He shakes his head at you. “I stole your keys so I could let myself back in. Had to Uber to get my car and then I got us breakfast. Hope you like breakfast burritos and coffee that’s a little too sweet.”

A smile twisted up on your lips. That was thoughtful?

“I do. Thank you.” You say, walking over to the counter to grab a coffee. You took a sip, it wasn’t your normal complicated vanilla latte. But it would do.

You both had plopped down at your table, somewhere you had found yourselves often the past few days and ate breakfast together.

“So, Danny and I have a meeting today. Some sort of podcast thing, but I’ll be free after. Care to go out again?” Jake asks, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

You bite your lip. “Josh comes back tomorrow.”

He shakes his head. “Uh huh.”

“Jake, he can’t know- about any of this really. He would freak out.” You say cautiously.

He gives you a sly smile. “S’okay Sugar. I’ll be your dirty little secret.”

You tap his arm. “I’m serious.”

He sighs at you and holds up a hand. “Fine. Scout’s honor.”

“Then yes, we can go out again tonight. But it can’t be a repeat of last night, I have to pick him up from the airport and do not want to be hungover.” You say, standing your ground.

Jake shrugs. “I dunno, maybe it could just be a little bit of a repeat from last night.”

You crack a smile and shake your head at him. What in the hell had you gotten yourself into again.

**

“I am so happy to see you!” Josh says, climbing into your car and squeezing your shoulders with a hug.

You smile at him. “I missed you too. I can’t wait to hear about all of your adventures.”

He huffs. “I have so many to share. Can I run by my place and shower and then come over? I am craving a home cooked meal so badly.”

You click your blink and laugh. “Well yes, but I don’t have much to cook. You would be appalled at the state of my refrigerator right now.”

“Hey, you have to take care of yourself. Change of plans; I’ll call in Chinese tonight and pick it up on my way over. First thing in the morning we are going grocery shopping.” He says in a caring tone.

“Deal.” You agree.

After dropping Josh off you had decided to tidy up a bit before he came over. You had already done a sweep of your house, making sure there were no remnants of Jake lying around anywhere. You had spent last night together again in a similar fashion to the night before. The last thing you wanted was for Josh to know that.

“These egg rolls are fresh today.” Josh said, stepping into your house.

“Oh I can tell it smells good.” You took the bags from Josh and placed them on the counter.

“Can you turn on that documentary we were watching last week? I’ll be right back, my bladder is about to explode.”

You chuckled and set out all of the food on your coffee table then started searching for whatever you two had previously watched. Once it was queued up you grabbed and extra blanket and waited for Josh. A few moments later he came walking into your living room.

“Shelves?”

You turned around and made a face at him. “What?”

He pointed behind him. “You hung your bathroom shelves?”

Fuck.

“Oh-uh yeah. It wasn’t too hard actually.” You tried to say as nonchalantly as possible.

He made a face at you. “Where did you get the tools?”

You shrugged. “I borrowed them from a neighbor. Come on, I'm starving and this food is going to get cold!”

He chewed on his cheek and eventually joined you on the couch. You hated lying to him, but the alternative would be worse.

That night you two had ended up asleep on the couch. You were wrapped in Josh’s arms, but his twin was the one occupying your mind.

***

Thank you for reading!!! <3

[tom-whore-dleston]

Alma Bella

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x f. reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This fic contains: angst, fluff, implied smut, hurt/comfort, massages, crying, reader has low self esteem, Joaquin is a loving bf, unbeta’ed writing

Summary: Joaquin helps cheer you up after getting laid off.

Notes: This piece is for @the-slumberparty's Eight Types of Love challenge. In addition, this is a late request from the Spotify Wrapped 2023 challenge.

prompt: Philautia (love of the self) - Spa Day

request: Hello ❤️ For your event, can I choose <Beautiful Soul> by Jesse McCartney and Joaquin Torres? I was thinking a hurt/comfort/fluff fic? I don’t want to add too many ideas but if I can add, Soldier Joaquin x Teacher Reader? Thank you!!! - @blackbat05

You poked at the rice on your plate, watching the way each grain smashed under your spoon. If you weren’t careful, you could have snapped at any moment, aggressively smashing the salmon you spent the last hour preparing for your partner and then throwing it on the ground. So, you settled for meticulously squishing each item on your plate, until Joaquin’s voice pulled you out of your trance.

“Amor, is everything alright?”

When you finally glanced into his loving brown eyes, you sighed loudly, fighting back the tears burning your own eyes. You had been anxious to the point of throwing up over sharing the news to Joaquin. He had been working so hard for both of you, and you didn’t want to let him down. The logical side of you knew he would never be disappointed in you, yet the fear of any conflict with the man you loved scared you to your core. Yet, you needed to tell him before you were consumed by it.

“I’m so sorry, Joaquin,” you mumbled, staring back down at your barely eaten dinner.

“What? Why?”

“I got laid off,” you finally revealed. Your heart sank to your stomach as the words left your mouth, and you already felt the bile traveling to the back of your throat. “I should have seen it coming with the way the economy is now. Plus, schools are more focused on STEM classes than fine arts. You sipped on your glass of water before continuing. “I really thought I could make a difference with art. I thought I could inspire kids to create with their hands and get messy, but…forget it. My family was right about me becoming an artist. I’d never make it so I should be an art teacher for more stability. Well, look where that got me.” 

The tears that brewed in your eyes disappeared. Your heart was breaking into atomic pieces yet you couldn’t allow yourself to cry. What was the point of crying if the only thing to grieve was your hope of making a difference?

Joaquin stood from his chair and joined you on the opposite side of the dining table. He knelt down to hug you tightly against him. The moment he started rubbing your back and kissed the crown of your head, the water works began flooding over his white shirt. Your lover hushed you, but still allowed you to sob into his shoulder. 

“I am hurting with you, amor. But everything you said about yourself is not true. You can make a difference with your art. Maybe this just wasn’t the right time or moment to do that.”

You pulled away to meet his eyes again. They were still beautiful and brown, even behind your watery gaze.

“When will be the right time?” You sniffled, wiping the tears away with the back of your hands.

Joaquin looked down at the ground solemnly. “I wish I knew the answer to that. But I promise it’ll come. You just gotta light that passion again, amor.” A strong hand grabbed yours tenderly. “I know you still have fight in you. Even if you feel discouraged.” 

You pulled Joaquin into another hug warm enough to light that fire inside you. He always knew how to comfort you. You didn’t deserve this, especially after the way you talked so poorly of yourself. But, it was what you needed to crawl out of your hopeless state.

“I think I know another way to cheer you up,” Joaquin said, sweeping the hair out of your face.

“Please tell me we are getting massages!”

Joaquin’s eyes widened, a smile painting his face. “How do you manage to guess what I’m thinking so easily?”

You bit your lip. “Because you and I are connected by the soul.”

He stared down at your lips, releasing a faint chuckle before kissing your lips.

The next day, Joaquin drove you to the massage parlor in your town, holding your hand while he sang ballads of his affection to you. At each stop light, he would lift your hand to his lips before lightly pecking them before driving away. By the time you arrived at your destination, Joaquin spoke with the receptionist, reserving your massage time and paying the service. Before you could protest, he reminded you that this day was for you and you shouldn’t have to do so much as lift a finger. Normally, you would attempt to fight him back, but for now, you agreed to let him treat you.

The next 90 minutes were the most blissful ones you have experienced in a long while. The woman massaging you may have been way past 60 years old, but her hands were strong enough to knead out the weight you carried since getting laid off. Yet, her touch was still soft and gentle, a kind reminder that even amongst the roughness, you deserve sensitivity and love.

You peered over to Joaquin, who laid with his cheek on the table, facing you. He grinned with his eyelids half open as his taut muscles turned to putty. 

“How are you, mi amor?” 

As the little old woman squeezed a pressure point on your calf, you winced in pain and pleasure. Joaquin laughed at your response, sticking his head back down the cushioned hole of the table, succumbing to the classical music and warmth of the massager’s hands.

Once your massage was over, you and Joaquin moaned in elation, but still yearned for more of the comforting yet aggressive touch of the massagers. You both laid in silence, battling the urge to fall asleep on the tables. After what felt like eternity, you finally stood from the table, moving sluggishly to dress yourself. Joaquin sensed your movement, turning to admire your naked form. 

“Hey, you,” your boyfriend murmured in a seductive tone.

“Hey, to you, too.” You snickered, rolling your eyes when Joaquin just stared at you in awe. He rolled onto his side as you slid your underwear back on.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He licked his lips as you bent over to pick up your sundress. A smirk was plastered on his face, and you already predicted where this would lead you. You decided to play dumb to test your hypothesis.

“I should say the same about you, handsome.” Your eyebrows suggested towards his semi hard length pointing in your direction. Then, you met him with sincerity and affection. “Thank you for this, amor. It really means a lot that you are taking this whole day to make me feel better after yesterday.”

“Anything for the woman I love. Don’t ever forget that you deserve the best and more.” You nodded before pressing your lips to his. Then, Joaquin added, “I take it that the massage helped relieve some of your stress?” 

“Oh, you have no idea, baby.”

“I think I do have an idea actually.” You faced him, fully dressed, as he finally managed to hop off the table. Your eyes steered away from his bare figure, warmth flooding your cheeks and chest. “Your pretty moans told me all I needed to know about how good you were feeling.”

You gulped, that sly smirk never leaving his face. “I felt really good, too. The thing is, I think they missed a spot. You and I both know you’re the only one to give me a real happy ending. Ain’t that right, amor?” By then, you choked on a gasp that almost came out as a whimper. 

“Joaquin, we can’t fuck here.”

“I know, I know.” He paused while putting on his jeans. “How about this? I drive us home, we get undressed again and I help you relax a little more and you help me get a happy ending.” 

You pretended to consider his proposition with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. The day had just begun for you two and you were already looking forward to more of whatever special treatment he had in store for you.

“Well, you did want to treat me the whole day so let’s not waste anymore time.”

Navigation | Fanfic Masterlist | Joaquin Torres Masterlist

header credit: @saradika | divider credit: @firefly-in-darkness

[lucivinyl]

the color of love is…

pairing: kaeya x gn!reader

summary: where kaeya accidentally drinks sucrose’s love potion, and you unfortunately happen to be the first person he sees. 14k

featuring: rivals to lovers, 2k backstory because i can’t write this trope without establishing one, drinking, minor violence, jealousy, misunderstandings, reader being the most oblivious person alive

Like any other night, Angel’s Share remained restlessly alive even after the neighboring houses had dimmed their lights and sunken into deep slumbers. The torch outside was blazing, quivering every time the drunken yells from inside shook the air. Tonight, the hollering was especially loud.

“Kaeya! Kaeya! Kaeya!” Adventurers, knights and citizens alike cheered as the disheveled captain tossed his head back, downed another shot, and slammed the glass onto the sticky table. The impact sent another one falling over the edge, and one of the spectators scrambled to catch it. 

“Your turn—” he hiccuped— “sweetheart.”

“Drop the name, asshole,” you slumped forward and grabbed a shot, finishing it in one gulp. The crowd erupted in awestruck cheers. One moment your head felt like it was being dragged to the bottom of the sea, and the other you were floating without gravity. Even in your state of disorientation, you refused to break eye contact with the figure in front of you.

You recalled in the back of your head how this was supposed to be a relaxing evening. You’d just spent the early afternoon in the laboratory helping Sucrose brew potions after potions, and your brain could’ve really used some loosening up. Turned out luck wasn’t on your side at all, for the moment you entered the tavern, the familiar face of Kaeya Alberich turned to you. There went your chances of getting a peaceful night.

Diluc happened to be absent today, off somewhere making deals with merchants. That’s the only reason why the two of you were even allowed to have a drinking contest in the first place, because god knows he’d kick you out before you could even start. 

However, this wasn’t a rare occurrence at all. Kaeya never missed an opportunity to drag you into contests that would surely result in a head-splitting hangover the following day. And you weren’t any better. All it took was a bit taunting for you to accept his declaration of war, like a moth to fire.

“Wre- wrestle.” You demanded, throwing your elbow onto the table. Unfazed, Kaeya clasped your hand tightly and— BAM , your knuckles hit the wood. More cheering.

“Fuck,” you murmured before drinking another shot.

Next to you were Venti (out for the count) and Rosaria (refused to participate in your ‘stupid game’). The latter had the heart to give your back a soothing pat as you suppressed the lump in your chest.

“Can one of you just give up? This is taking forever.” She said flatly.

“Sure,”

“No.”

You glared at Kaeya and his permanent shit-eating grin, “I’m gonna win this once and for all. I will ob… oble- ugh,”

“Obliterate?” Bruce suggested, having come down from upstairs for the show.

“Yea, that.” Your words came like waves, blurred and overlapping. “I’m the greatest wine-bubble in town.”

“Winebibber,” Rosaria said.

“Winebibble,” you nodded.

With an amused smirk Kaeya bowed his head to the side to get a good look at you. His hair, tousled after having his hands run through it for umpteen times, cascaded down like someone had just knocked over a cupful of night sky. “You’re tipsy already.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “I’m not. It’s your turn, asshole.”

The night dragged out, and another bottle was emptied. Charles watched from behind the bar, eyes grim with horror as you lined up the newly-filled tumblers in a horizontal line. You threw your satchel somewhere empty on the table, and the content flooded out. They were mostly miscellaneous samples Sucrose had given you as gifts of gratitude. You ignored the vials rolling around.

“Next one,” you sandwiched your face between your palms to keep it from spinning. By now his cape was already nowhere to be seen. “Blink and you lose.”

He scoffed. “You’ve never won before.”

“Try me.”

You narrowed your eyes in concentration, staring dead into Kaeya’s unmoving one. The air was thick with anticipation, all around you were heavy indrawn breaths as the crowd looked back and forth between you two.

After a tense beat where nothing moved, your mind started to wander. Lunch, bladework, dandelion seeds. Then you reckoned that, if you were to close your eyes, you could probably conjure an image of him that’s correct down to the very detail. You almost attempted right there until you remembered that you were in a staring contest. Perhaps you really were drunk.

A skilled reader of your expressions, Kaeya curled his lips when he realized that you were slipping away. Not only that, your lids were also fluttering, eyes begging for moisture.

Meanwhile Kaeya looked as unbothered as ever. Maybe he’d already blinked, you were just too drunk to notice it.

Moments before your body gave in, you gritted your teeth and kicked him under the table. It hit him right in the shin, and he doubled over in pain. His eye shut as he winced loudly. The crowd made a sound of mild surprise.

“You lost.”

“No, you cheated!” he said incredulously. He must’ve been so displeased, because as soon as his voice dropped, he split into two images. No matter how hard you blinked, he wouldn’t merge back into a singular Kaeya.

“I don’t care. There’s no rue- rule stating that I can’t disturb my opponent. Drink up,” you said, but your words sounded miles away. “Ah, ah, ah,” you made some random noises to make sure you were hearing correctly.

He looked like he still had a lot to say, but instead he clicked his tongue, snatched a glass and emptied it. You were still wondering about why there were two of him when he clicked his tongue. “What’s this? Tastes weird,”

Through the dizziness, you could still make out the color of the remaining liquid. Your heart sagged. Sweat gathered under your nose. “What d’you drink?”

“Something weird,” he repeated. “Ugh, it’s so sweet. Tastes like a…like a cloying love song,” whatever the hell that meant. “Why’s it pink?”

“Oh, hell no,” Rosaria muttered under her breath. You looked back and forth between the frowning man and the vial, the cogwheels in your head spinning and spinning and spinning until you realized what he’d just put inside his body.

You saw your bewildered reflection in Kaeya’s eye. The words formed in your throat but died on your tongue. You could tell the exact moment the potion took root.

He burped.

And then you passed out.

—

From the comfort of your slumber you were awakened by persistent knocks on the door. This morning, your body seemed hellbent on chastising you for the reckless intake of alcohol. Your head was screaming with murderous intent, and your throat felt like a desert that hadn't been touched by a single drop of water for eons. The ache in your limbs had you wonder whether you’d run through all of Mondstadt in your drunken state.

You lay unmoving in the position you'd woken up in, and contemplated staying like this forever. The sun was in your eyes, but the will to move had long left you. Events from last night eluded you. Trying to recall drunken memories was like looking for a seashell in a raging storm.

Another series of knocking. You promptly rolled out of the bed, the collision sending another wave of pain.

Death would be merciful in comparison.

Lisa was standing on the other side of the door, a basket hanging from her elbow. The sweet aroma of fresh bread enveloped you. “Mornin’, are you here to relieve me of my suffering?”

“As always,” she walked past with familiarity. “I heard about what happened last night.”

“Great, because I don’t remember a second of it,” you sat down at the dining table, watching her present the food in front of you. “All I know is that it’s probably that icy bastard’s fault.”

“If it’s any consolation, Kaeya called in sick today. You should probably do the same, because you look like you’ve been through hell and back,” Lisa pushed the toast toward you. The golden crust, the glorious sunny side up, and fresh jam stared back at you. A knot rose in your throat. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I actually did.” You turned away from the food. Perhaps your appetite would return a moment later. “Thank you for coming, by the way. Can you grab me the hangover cure?”

“You mean that large jar of suspicious brown substances?”

“Say what you want, but it works like a charm every time.”

The cure had been a recipe passed down from your ancestors. Evidently they were not exempt from the alcohol-loving nature of Mondstadters. 

Despite the strain on your back, you leaned in to get a peek inside the basket Lisa had been holding. Inside was another serving of toast. 

“Who’s the other toast for?” You asked.

“Make a guess?” She said from the kitchen.

Frankly, you’d known the answer before asking. “So you didn’t come especially for me after all? I’m hurt,”

Her airy chuckle echoed through the house. “Truth to be told, I was told by Jean to pay you two a visit. She knows how much you two like to torture yourselves for some childish glory.”

Your face scrunched up. “She’s not mad, is she?”

“Of course not,” she returned with a cup of ‘suspicious brown substance’ and pushed your bag out of the way. Her eyes caught on a piece of note. “What’s this?”

You grabbed the paper and squinted. Every word you read was a stab at your throbbing head.

you fucked up. big time. — Rosaria

“What’s that about?” Lisa chuckled. “Would you mind if I brought some of this cure for Kaeya?”

A mindless nod was all you could muster as you reread Rosaria’s note. The memory flooded up to you, albeit backward— her carrying your home, the slumping forward, the moment of astonishment shared between you and Kaeya, the drained vial…

“Oh no,” you shot up from your seat and snatched yesterday’s satchel, rummaging through the chaos inside. “Oh, no, no, no, please —“

Sucrose’s samples came clattering out one by one until you found, to your horror, a vacant one. 

Now Kaeya having drunk this specific concoction shouldn’t be a big deal. At least it wouldn’t kill him, Sucrose would never make something like that. In fact, these were mostly mild and experimental funsies, from truth potion to juice that makes you sound like a frog. But the reality wasn’t really better.

“What’s wrong?”

Your shoulders dropped. “Kaeya drank it. It’s a love potion.”

“Oh my,” Lisa’s hand hovered in front of her open jaw. 

“And considering its method of activation, I was the first person he made eye contact with.”

“…Which means he’s going to be head over heels for you?”

The broken wail you let loose could be heard from streets away.

“Okay,” you managed to calm yourself down before your neighbors could come and complain. “It’s not that bad. It might not even have worked, it was experimental after all. In fact it’s a favorable outcome, because now I can tell Sucrose whether her formula works,”

“Uh-huh,” Lisa cocked her eyebrow, not a bit convinced. “Are you going to tell him though?”

Your bravado faded as quickly as it’d come. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think right now.”

Tense silence draped over the room. Your head ran wild with tangled thoughts, most of which were imaginations of a very out of character Kaeya. All were enough to induce psychological horror.

“Alright, well…” Lisa tapped her finger against the table. “Since you don’t know for sure that it worked, maybe we should first confirm. When you see him again, look for signs he’s interested in you. I’ll help you out later, but I doubt I’ll get anything out of him,”

You nodded, temporarily incapable of giving a more animated response. 

“When are you going to see him?” She asked.

“Like tomorrow? We have a… we have to check out an area around Springvale. Stupid slimes have been going rampant lately.” The two of you as a team was nothing out of the norm. At the end of the day, you were still his second in command, as much as you hated to admit.

“Perfect. So when you’re out saving Mondstadt from perils, you can do some observations of your own. Just to let Sucrose know the effectiveness of her potion, of course,” she winked. “And if the potion really did work, you can just ask her for an antidote when you come back. Sounds good?”

In a lack of an alternative, you bobbed your head in agreement. Lisa shifted to ruffle your bed hair with a meaningful smile. Had you not been all up in your head, you might’ve even caught a hint of amusement in it. 

“Then I’ll leave you to it. I still have a drugged captain to visit after all.” 

Lisa excused herself and left you to ponder. The toast stared back at you, lonely and untouched. Once again your brain overheated from all the thinking, so you opted to take the cure and head back to bed instead.

—

If anyone were to ask about the origin of your rivalry, you would have to go way back to the first time you met each other, and without surprise, it was at the tavern.

Growing up, you had been known as nothing short of ambitious. Having had your vision bestowed upon you by the fair-minded hydro archon at the tender age of seven, there was only one noble aspiration you held: to become a knight of favonius. And surely enough, you were recruited during your fleeting adolescence.

As a new member, you made it your mission to get to know each and every knight. There was Godwin, who seemed to be so lovesick for Glory that he had no control over the words of love that spilled out of his mouth. There were also delightful minds like Jean, whose unerring determination sometimes put your own to shame.

As for the knights you couldn’t meet during the day, you decided that the tavern would be the optimal place for chance encounters. The smell of alcohol hit you the moment you stepped foot inside, chatters and laughter stacked upon each other. You gave Charles an acknowledging nod before looking around.

Here was your first impression of Kaeya Alberich: marked and distinctive. With his fancy outfit (an eyepatch? Fur collar? Why was the chest window even there?) and the sure way in which he carried himself, he stood out like a delicately-cut lapis in the crowd of sandstone. 

Even amidst the drunken hollers and chortles, his voice, smooth as silk, drew you closer. You cleared your throat behind him, and he whipped his head around—

His flowing hair hit you square in the face.

You shut your eyes, smiling solely out of courtesy.

“Oh, how terrible of me. I’m afraid I’m a bit tipsy,” his gaze focused on you. “Have we met before or am I just exceptionally fortunate tonight?” 

Second impression: a smooth talker, and an overly confident one at that. His voice was akin to waves lapping at the shore, gentle, but cold. Had the wind not been in his favor and carried it everywhere it went, you might’ve missed his words. 

“We’ve met, though we never introduced ourselves. I’m one of the newly recruited knights.” You gave your name.

“Kaeya Alberich. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He held out his gloved hand, a courteous gesture, and you shook it. “Which company are you under?”

“Calvary,” your voice was coated with pride you couldn’t suppress. “I hope to be captain one day.”

Something close to recognition dawned on Kaeya’s face. A few knights who had been listening in nodded meaningfully. It seemed that the term ‘calvary captain’ carried some sort of meaning to them.

At that time, the role of captain had been vacant long enough that people were starting to speculate about what might have caused the delay in a new assignment. You knew that the previous captain was Diluc Ragnvindr, born into noble status. You also knew that he was Kaeya’s brother. Other knowledge you held of him were all rumors and hearsays. 

His sudden withdrawal from the post had been one that shocked the city, but compared to the news of him leaving Mondstadt altogether, it caused mere ripples.

Regardless, the position was empty, and you had your sight set on it. 

“Captain, huh?” Kaeya pressed his lips to the side, long finger tapping the edge of the bar as the gears in his head turned. “To become one, you must possess the strongest will and the utmost loyalty. Not to mention outstanding combat skills and work efficiency. You sure you’re up for it?”

Your brows twitched, a barely concealed frown. “Sure I do. I’ve been training my whole life for this.”

“Your determination is admirable,” another knight said. “But I think the Grand Master already has a pick.”

Following his line of gaze, you realized that he was referring to Kaeya. 

“Nothing is set in stone yet, but it'd be nice to have competition; makes it all the more satisfying when I crush you." There was an attempt to give a wink, but due to his eyepatch, it just looked like he was blinking aggressively.

To define it as a declaration of war might be an exaggeration, but at that moment, his words inflamed a torch deep inside you. 

Following your initial meeting, the need to prove yourself would become your motivation for the next few months. After all, you would be nothing if not the best. During training, you often found yourself pitting against each other while others spectated with curiosity. You had your fair amount of wins, but they were always outnumbered by your losses. 

It stung to admit, but Kaeya was a force to be reckoned with. His swordsmanship and agility worked hand in hand to corner you until you were staring at the end of his blade. His movements were elegantly choreographed, and he dodged your offenses with such swiftness that he was able to leave snarky remarks in between.

In one match, you managed to parry his blow and force the sword out of his grip. Taking advantage of his moment of shock, you pushed him back onto the parched ground. But even with him pinned to the ground with your elbow and your knees caging his middle, to assume your victory and let your attention waver would be an amateur mistake. Until someone from the watching group announced the winner, you refused to take your eyes off him.

"This is quite the position." He said, and you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore his lopsided smirk, but it was hard to ignore something when you were staring directly at it. You definitely weren't fooling anyone with the way your attention darted around in a frenzy. 

"I like you so much better when you're not talking," you mustered as much strength as possible as you spoke those words, but archons — your mind wavered— the way his hair spilled out on the ground like waves and the way his chest heaved with every breath he took were nothing short of distracting.

Focus, focus, focus.

"So you do like me?"

"Dream on."

He moved his head to the side to squint at you, revealing the soft flesh of his neck. With an audible gulp you pushed yourself off of him, patting the dust from your clothes. 

Amateur mistake. You let out a short-living gasp as you were literally swept off your feet, your rear taking the blunt as you landed. The sun glaring at you when you opened them, and you had once again lost.

"Alberich, twenty. Y/N, thirteen." Miles announced. Kaeya bowed flamboyantly to the clapping crowd and turned to offer you a helping hand.

All the training and you got sidetracked by trivial things. You ignored his outstretched palm and hoisted yourself up.

Perhaps that was why you could've never been captain.

The day Varka called for the both of you, autumn was in the air, and so the breeze carried forth fragrances of flowers as you marched towards his office. The excitement in your chest dwindled when you saw Kaeya standing outside, staring down at the floor in deep thought.

Hearing your footsteps, he raised his head and cracked a smile. "So the Grand Master asked for you too. I wonder what this is about."

He was just teasing, of course. Both of you knew what this was about. Taking up the spot beside him, you could feel your heart beating in your ears. 

An hour or two later, the two of you emerged from his room, and were immediately surrounded by clamoring knights. Kaeya waved at them dismissively with a breath of lightness in his voice as you pushed your way through the crowd.

If you'd had to listen to his voice for a second longer, you would've let the anger crawling under your skin break free. Cavalry Captain , the words rang true and clear in your head. And the second in command . 

Your head pounded with fury as you sank onto the floor, fists so tight that your nails were digging into your skin. Atop you, the birds chirped and danced around each other, not a care in this world.

Here's a secret your pride would never let you know. In those moments of pure redness, your anger was neither directed at Kaeya nor the Grand Master. It was disappointment mixed with infuriation rumbling inside you, because you knew exactly who was to blame. You'd never been angry at Kaeya for being better, you were angry at yourself for not being enough. 

At the celebration feast, Kaeya managed to slip into the vacant seat next to you, a glass of wine in hand. You pointedly ignored his presence, but he paid no mind, instead opting to sit in silence. It was you who finally gave in. "What do you need?"

"Why so cold?" He propped his head up on his fist, observing. Beats of stillness passed with decades packed in each of them. Then he said in a matter-of-factly tone, "You're upset."

You'd always been an open book— or perhaps he was just a fast reader.

"Thank you for noticing," you grumbled. "Enjoying the party?"

"It's also yours, you know?" He dodged your question. "It's uncommon for a captain to have a second in command. Varka must’ve seen something in you that couldn't be wasted."

"Something, sure, but not enough."

He didn't say anything to that. For the first time after the conferment, you took a good look at him. While there was mirth smeared across his face, especially prominent in the corners of his lips, his eye was as pensive as a blackhole hoarding thousands of secrets. He didn't look half as happy as you would've expected him to be.

"I bet you knew all along. To be honest, even I myself was not surprised," you began, testing the water. 

"I had my speculations," he chuckled. "Funnily enough, I was still taken aback when I heard the news. Kaeya Alberich, you have proved your competence on numerous occasions, and so it is my greatest pleasure to bestow on you the title of Cavalry Captain ." His imitation of Varka was spot on, down to the very gasp he would take before each sentence he said. It made you wonder just how observant he was.

Once again, something you lacked.

"Perhaps I was taken aback because I didn't really want to be captain." He said. You waited for more, but it never came. 

"Why?" You insisted. It ached seeing someone dismiss the very thing you'd been wanting your whole life.

"...Who knows?" The ghost of the truth dimmed his eye, and then he was back to beaming again. "Do enjoy this evening, my dearest second in command. After all, it's not everyday you get a promotion."

The Kaeya that had just talked to you was a shell of memory now. Moments like that, when he let his vulnerable side show, were always too fleeting for you to hold on to. With an offended expression, you watched him return to the people, once again radiant. If anyone else had been around to hear his words, they would've thought him considerate, but you knew that it was his way of mocking you.

Why he didn't seem at all elevated escaped you– there was too little for you to work with. Yet for some reason, you had a hunch that it had something to do with the previous captain. Diluc Ragnvindr, his brother in another land.

Your pondering was interrupted by a clap of hands and the hushes that befell the participants. Kaeya had somehow gotten himself a stool and was standing tall. "I suppose it's only fair that I say a few words?"

A weaver of words, he satisfied his audience with ease. From a distance, you made a show of rolling your eyes skyward, bitter. Always so dramatic and conceited .

"...and of course, I have to thank my fellow colleagues, who have been absolute joys to drink with," a few of them chuckled. "But most of all I have to thank our lovely Y/N—"

The sudden mention of your name almost had you choking on air. You glared at him, flabbergasted and irked by the fact that he was forcing you under the spotlight when all you wanted was to wallow in your own failure. "--who has time after time pushed me to become the best version of myself. Without them, I doubt I'd even be standing here."

His gaze bore into you, arrogant. Patronizing, even. "With you as my subordinate , I dare say there'll be nothing I cannot achieve as captain . A toast, everyone!"

The crowd turned to you with terrifying synchronization. With a strained smile pasted on your face, you nodded at them before downing your own drink. Soon the crowd returned to chit-chatting, but your eyes were still fixed on the captain. Your veins blazed with the desire to wipe that permanent sneer off his face, chagrin morphing into the comfortable disguise of distaste.

Years later, Rosaria would find herself a frequent listener of your retelling of your relationship. You would ramble for hours and hours on end, about how he was always driving you up the wall, about the time you almost pushed him off a cliff because he wouldn’t stop shoving in your face the fact that he cleared more hilichurl camps than you did. Rosaria might not care, but even through her nonchalance, she saw one thing clearly.

You spoke of distaste and detestation, yet it was apparent that the anger was a shield. More often than not, your opinions of Kaeya hinted at respect instead of genuine contempt. The person you were mad at was yourself. The anger stemmed from the shame you felt at being inadequate, which was so great that you could barely live with it. It was much easier to assign blame. So you did.

The funniest part was that Kaeya just played along. He had absolutely nothing against you, but once he’d learnt how to ruffle your feathers, he wouldn’t give it up. It was yet another mystery why he enjoyed teasing you so, but Rosaria wasn’t going to probe. She already knew more than enough.

In her eyes, Kaeya Alberich wasn’t that good of a pretender after all.

—

Outside the sun dappled through trees, and the streets buzzed with activity as the early merchants set up their stalls. Remnants from yesterday's hangover had long dispersed, courtesy of the infallible cure. 

It occured to you over breakfast that you had no idea what kind of signs you were looking for. Love was not a myth, that much you knew, but it was foreign. You could scarcely recall the last time you felt it, so how were you supposed to recognize it all of a sudden?

Your mind wandered to the lovebirds in town. Beatrice, whose obsession was crystal clear as she chatted Quinn up basically every day, though the latter couldn’t be more blind. Raymond, who would incessantly speak of his wife when he’s drunk. There’s always this tender look he reserved just for her. And then there’s Nimrod, who had been trying hard to treat his alcohol addiction for his wife.

These were all sweet people. But when you tried to imagine Kaeya being as lovesick, it was like trying to dress an adult in toddler-sized shirts. It didn’t fit him. The mere thoughts of it made you flush from embarrassment. Chances were you were going to die from cringe.

As much as you’d like to run from the problem, you had a job to finish. Every step you took toward the city gate, where you usually rendezvoused with Kaeya, was tentative. Your eyes darted around as you looked for signs of him, hoping that you would at least have some time to prepare yourself.

“Why are you sneaking about?” 

Your breath jolted. Every hair on your body jerked up.

“Very nice of you, Alberich.” You snapped, hand hovering above your racing heart. He gave a hum of a laugh as you calmed down.

(That was the first sign you missed— the way his eye lit up when he saw you from behind.)

Right, your secret objective. You scanned his face briefly. Nothing seemed out of place. He wasn’t giggling like a teenager experiencing romance for the first time, neither was he throwing himself at you like a clingy kid—

“So, dear partner,” he swung his arm around your shoulder. Your brain sputtered. “Are you ready for our little date?”

Well. Shit.

Panic took over your limbs. You jabbed your fingers at his side, and he curled away with a gasp. 

“Don’t make me punch you in the face when we’ve barely started. I still haven’t held you accountable for the pain you put me through yesterday.”

“Right, yesterday. Thank you for the cure, by the way. Still waiting for the recipe though,”

“Too bad I’m taking it to the grave.” The two of you marched out of the city. “Say… aside from the hangover, did you feel weird in any other way?”

Something indecipherable passed across his face. “No. Should I have?”

“Not at all,” you rushed to answer. 

He might’ve been a little touchy, but that didn’t automatically mean that the potion was behind it, and you were no stranger to his flirtations. If the teasing bore any genuine feelings at all, then he would’ve been in love with you since forever.

"If you're worried that I'm not in tip-top condition, you can rest assured. I'll protect you from any harm that may come your way, as usual." 

This was going to be a long day.

—

"I think we should do plan K," Kaeya said while you were making your way through the green plains.

"What plan K?"

"Kitty cat?"

It took you a few seconds to catch on to his meaning. "No." You refused curtly.

Unlike their owners, your visions worked in perfect harmony. There was no enemy you couldn't freeze with a slash of your respective swords. Still, you were only two people. When confronted by mobs of enemies, trapping one or two of them in suffocating ice couldn't really help. The key was to gather them so you could drench them all at once.

It was only one time– the group of hilichurls on the cliff was truly too overwhelming for you. Even hot-headed as you were, you still knew not to go out without a plan. In the heat of the moment, you decided that the best way to grab their attention was to pretend to be a cat. After all, who wouldn't respond to their mewls?

You could still recall vividly the look on Kaeya's face as you forced the sounds out of your throat– like something had cracked him open. Surprise smeared his countenance even long after he'd turned the enemies into a dense pack of ice statues. It was one of the few times you got him to be speechless, which was in itself an achievement, but considering the context, it only made you want to crawl into a burrow.

"I didn't know you had such a knack for imitating animals. Can you do Rishboland Tigers?" He'd said. You proceeded to throw him a few insults before tying up the loose ends of your job. 

You should've known that he wouldn't let it slide that easily. This was Kaeya you were talking about. When had he ever passed on a chance to make your skin crawl?

"Come on, it was so effective last time." He pressed.

"Do slimes even recognize cats?" 

"Sure,"

"Bullshit." You said, and that was final.

Soon the striking windmill came into view, a silent indicator of your destination. Most of the residents had left the village for work, and the remaining ones were mostly lounging around. 

A man with hair the color of autumn spotted you first. Light steps brought him closer, and soon he was standing before you. 

"I’m Allan. You're from the knights?" 

"The Cavalry Captain, in the flesh," Kaeya said with just a hint of pride. You barely held back your snort. “Where may the reported problem be?”

“Just down the road.” Allan pointed. “We would’ve taken care of them ourselves, but a lot of us have gone far to hunt and have not come back.”

“Noted,” you said. “How many slimes are there?”

“Twelve, give or take.”

Your eyes rounded. Twelve is quite a large number, even for limbless balls of elemental energy. Kaeya moved in and whispered, “Kitty cat?”

“Not a snowball’s chance in hell.” You hissed, hating the way he always managed to send chills down your spine when he spoke in proximity, even more so when his words were thick with meanings. You turned back to Allan. “Alright then, we’ll go take care of them.”

“Yea,” Allan nodded, a bit absent-minded. “While you’re at it, can you look for Myweiss? Short hair, probably with a lyre. She went out this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

His words had a certain ominousness to them, though as a knight you still had to maintain a mask of nonchalance lest you reinforce his worry. “We’ll look into that too.”

It was just as Allan had said. A few turns later you found the road blocked by a pack of pyro slimes. From where you were hiding behind a rock, they formed a circle, bouncing in sync and looking awfully like they were holding a ritual. A figure in the middle drew your eyes.

“Is that Myweiss?” Your hand found its way to the hilt of your sword, body inclining with the urge to strike. Warmth enveloped your knuckle, and you looked down to see Kaeya pushing you back down.

“Don’t be rash,” he said.

“But someone’s—”

“— in danger and as knights we have to save them, yes,” he stole the words right from your mouth. At your slightly astonished gape he winked, “I know you more than you think.”

…Well, friends pay attention to each other all the time. You didn’t even like him one bit, yet you were still familiar with his patterns, from silent body language to layered words. So this was not enough proof that he was under the influence of a love potion.

Kaeya proceeded to lay out his plan, which was really just charging in head-on, but you were too busy ruminating on his words to call him out. 

He sprang out first, flitting through the air weightlessly. The slimes jolted in recognition and fled toward him like magnets. You seized the opening to rescue the trembling woman who’d curled into a ball. She flinched away when you put your hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, you’re alright. We’re here to save you.”

She peeked out from behind her crossed elbows. Your attire must’ve given your identity away as she grasped your hand in relief.

“Duck!” 

Your body responded quicker to the shout than your brain could register it. Ice spikes shot through the air, impaling the slime hovering above you.

“A hand would be nice,” Kaeya said. 

“Why, can’t handle a few slimes?” You cooed. Whipping out your polished sword, you slipped into a comfortable spot behind him. One man might still be prone to blunders, but two could form an impenetrable defense. There wasn't a single way to lay a finger on you without being struck down by some frigid ferocity first, and in return you covered all the spots Kaeya's eye couldn't track. You knew each other's patterns like the back of your hands. You scythed your swords with such fluidity that you were like comets weaving through constellations– ruthless, unfaltering, yes, but never once did you collide into the other's trajectory. 

You made quick work of the slimes without breaking a sweat. The last one exploded as a final attempt at retaliation, and all's left was scorched grass and your stiff pants.

"You got quicker," Kaeya stated as you approached Myweiss again, picking up the broken lyre on the ground. 

"Thank you, good sir, your compliment means an awful lot to me," you playfully bowed before turning back to the bard. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"My… my ankle," she stuttered. You leaned forward and found her skin glaring with an angry burn. It wasn't severe, but it would probably require a few days to heal completely.

"We'll bring you back to Springvale," Kaeya offered his hand. Myweiss glanced at it before opting instead to loop her arm around your elbow, the action surprising you for a moment. The blue-haired captain had a comically puzzled frown on his face as you hoisted the lady up. You stuck your tongue out at him as you passed.

Allan jumped into action as soon as you came into view, taking her away to the village’s healer. As soon as you're alone, you tilted your head at Kaeya. "Seems like you've lost your charm."

"Or you got more alluring," he bent and wrapped himself around your arm, "Ah, I'm feeling a bit worn out from all the fighting. Mind if you carry me back to Mond, dear knight?"

"I'd rather leave you in the wild."

"Hurtful. Very hurtful," he feigned a pained expression. 

The sun swam overhead. By the time Myweiss had been fully bandaged, you'd already finished your quick lunch. She limped out with urgency, and broke into a smile when she realized that you hadn't left.

You, of course, failed to notice it as you walked up to her. "Feeling better?"

"Oh, a lot better. May I just add that you were phenomenal just now? I've never seen anyone fight as gracefully as you."

You flushed. "You're too kind. I was only doing my job."

"Well, consider it a job well done," she fidgeted a bit. "Say, do you have other business to attend to? Would you like to stay for a while? I can play you a song if you like– ah, nevermind, my lyre looks pretty worse for wear."

A break out here sounded pleasant enough, but you still had to report back to the headquarters. Before you could reply, Allan butted in despite the sharp glare Myweiss gave him. "Speaking of other business, I heard from others that there have been some treasure hoarders roaming around Dragonspine lately. Shouldn’t the knights do something about that too?"

"Certainly. I'll let the situation be known as soon as possible." Swiveling, you noticed Kaeya chatting with some other villagers with an easy curl of a grin. His eye was already on you when you regarded him, and he gave you a little wave.

Your hand was raised mid-air when Myweiss rapped, "That can wait, right? You should really stay. Perhaps I'll show you around, we've just had some fruitful harvests too." 

Even oblivious as you were, at this point you were starting to catch on to her desperation to keep you around. She reached out gingerly for your arm, lashes fluttering in a way that conveyed attraction. It was the first time in a while that you'd been hit on, and you found yourself at a loss of words.

"What's going on?" Kaeya must be addicted to putting his arm around your shoulder, though his presence made you somewhat more at ease. His eye traveled down to Myweiss' bandaged ankle. "You look better already."

"I could always use some assistance," she eyed you, begrudgingly withdrawing her hold.

"I'm sure Allan here is more than willing to provide it," he never wavered in his smile, but you couldn't help but note that it was the one that he used on people he didn't trust. His arm was also unusually tight around you, as if desperate to ensure that you wouldn't be snatched away.

Allan clicked his tongue. "Fine, whatever. Just go deal with the treasure hoarders as soon as possible, okay?"

"It's not like the knights are short on manpower, why can't you lounge around for some more?" Myweiss argued.

You sucked in a breath. "We aren't, but–" 

"But it'd be irresponsible to let the problem fester. In fact, my partner and I are going to eradicate it right away." Kaeya said.

"The enemies are on Dragonspine. We can't just charge in like this." You said.

"Why not? We've never failed a mission before."

"That's because we had prior preparations!"

"We can prepare on the way, or I'll just do all the work if you want."

After watching you two with enough intensity that the air crackled, Myweiss huffed in defeat. "Fine. Go do your job, I give up."

You offered to help her back, but she waved you off. "It's fine, I know I can't compete. Love is pointless after all. I should've known better than to hold out hope…"

Her words faded into the wind as you watched her leave with Allan, lips slightly ajar in confusion. Kaeya's arm slipped away, his warmth lingering on your skin like a ghost. "Let's go."

He really knew how to put his long legs to good use. You jogged to match his strides. "You mean to Dragonspine? Weren't you just making it up?"

"Why would I? It's just a mountain, nothing we can't handle."

There's an edge to his voice. It was like something grand had happened in the span of a second without your participation– Myweiss' abrupt drop in attitude, the lump in Kaeya's throat as he spoke. 

"Well, maybe hydro and cryo aren't the best combination when you're surrounded on all fours by snow."

Silence was all that greeted you.

Great.

There was another thing that bugged you– the way he put extra stress on his tongue when he said 'my partner'. While it wasn't unusual that he referred to you as such, he'd never named it with such sternness before. It was like he was trying to make an irrefutable point.

You'd heard the same tone somewhere else. Back when a foreigner had come to Mondstadt and unwittingly flirted with Quinn, Beatrice was all but fuming when she stepped in. That's my– my best friend, she'd said, ignoring the stuttering. It didn't take you long to put a name to the emotion smeared across her face. Jealousy.

"Were you jealous just now?" You let the words go, nevermind how ridiculous you sounded. Kaeya pursed his lips, as if considering, before exhaling sharply through his nose, "So what if I was?"

That was most expected. Of course he wouldn't answer you directly, only swerve around your question. 

"I was just trying to bail you out of that situation, that's all," he added, unprompted. "Though I can't deny that seeing someone being lovestruck before you put me down in the dumps for a bit. You know how much I adore you.”

You tried to fight off the weird tingling feeling in your stomach. His words had planted the root of something unnamable in you. It was not new– in fact you found yourself feeling it quite often when you were around him– but still considered a strange feeling.

Jealousy, a sure side effect of affection. The potion might’ve really kicked in then. Good news for Sucrose, but it was going to be a problem for you.

–

To pocket more time, you had to stray from the main road smoothed by feet that had come before. In short: less walking, more climbing up short cliffs and jagged rocks.

It must've taken you no less than two hours until you smelled frost in the air. The immenseness of the snow-capped mountain loomed before you as you entered the camp set nearby.

"Knights of Favonius," one of the people donning adventurers' attire greeted you. Iris, her name was. "Heading into Dragonspine at this hour?"

"We heard there've been some treasure hoarders in the vicinity lately, and our reliable captain here decided to nip them in the bud." You sprinkled your words with sarcasm.

"If you're really that afraid of the cold, I'm sure I can handle this alone."

You snorted, "Afraid? It seems that you're underestimating me."

"Well, uh," Iris dug through the pile of necessities laid out on the wooden bench. "We only have two overcoats here. Perhaps I can pack you some warm rum as well. Wait a sec,"

As she ran off to the chef, you examined the overcoats. They were huge even for Kaeya, and made out of wool. As warm as it seemed, it would probably restrict your movements as you mounted the sloped hills.

Still, it was better than freezing to death.

Something fluffy was draped around your shoulders. You turned and found your face buried in soft, white fur. Usually ostentatious, this ridiculous collar finally proved to be useful.

"I don't need it." You stated as he slipped his arms into the sleeves of the coat. It looked ridiculous on him. 

"Shh, just take it," he dismissed with half a heart. "What kind of partner would I be if I just let you turn into a frozen sculpture?"

"Are you saying you won't turn into one?"

"Of course not," he held up the remaining one and hugged the fabric around you, tugging it towards the middle. You glimpsed at him, the lower part of your face hidden behind the layers of fabric. The gesture warmed you more than the coat ever could.

Iris came back with the bottle, and off you ventured into the depth of the snow.

–

"Shouldn't there be torches nearby?" Kaeya mumbled, teeth clattering as he ran his hands up and down his arms. At this point, after eight refusals, you'd given up on putting the cape back on him.

The bottle of rum was effective, so much so that you already finished most of it. Every blow of the wind felt like spikes stabbing at your exposed skin, and snowflakes descended into your line of vision the further up you went. You tipped your head back and inhaled. A mistake. The cold invaded your airway and made you wheeze. You sought comfort in the fur again.

Dragonspine was not a place for wandering. All around you was plain white covering grey rocks. Even the knights would be hesitant to come to a place like this– devoid of life, harsh, unforgiving, a weapon forged by nature itself.

"Why aren’t you more resistant to the cold, cryo user?" You mumbled.

"If you threw Diluc into a fireplace, he'd still scream in pain."

"Touche,"

You pressed on doggedly. Naked branches and worn stones rolled past you. Finally, Kaeya sighted a glimmer of hope. It was a torch near the cliff, its branches stuck steadily into the snow. You both raced forward, only to realize that the fire had long gone out.

"It would be a good time to reveal your box of matches," he looked to you expectantly. You strained your mouth into a smile that said what do you think .

"This is pointless," you started pacing. "The sky is dimming, there's not a single sign of life within a ten miles radius, and we can't even light a dumb flame."

"Would you rather we head back?"

Your body screamed affirmative, but your determination was unflinching. You'd always despised giving up halfway, even in situations brought about by hands other than your own. Leaning forward to observe the gaping depth, you shook your head. "Let's… let's go a bit further. Ugh, what are the thieves even doing this far up–"

The moment you turned on your heels, the small piece of ground behind you gave way, crumbling into ashes. Your arms flung wildly in the air as you sought purchase, but the closest tree was already pulling away from you. 

Your breath suspended in your throat. Moments before you could feel the plummet, icy fingers grasped around your wrist and sent you lurching back to stable ground. Had your heart not been pumping at light speed, you would've noticed the shake in Kaeya's hand. You opened your eyes and found yourself pressed flush against him, like vines to a pillar. For the first time since you'd started walking the snow-covered paths, warmth enveloped you from head to toe.

"I know this circumstance is less than ideal, but did you really have to throw yourself off?" Kaeya forced a chuckle. His breaths were heavy, almost anxious, his cheeks raw and windblown.  "Or have you finally fallen for my charms?”

“What charms?” You faked confusion. “You’re not even my type,”

“Pshh, I’m the embodiment of your type,” he locked you even further into his hold, and blood rushed to your face.

After some shuffling, he hummed. “This is quite nice, don't you think? Works ten times better than this mess of a coat."

You kept your arms around him, not by will, but because every muscle in your body had been petrified by your closeness. If you were to cut your heart out and put it on the torch right now, it would probably blaze all night. 

“I… I suppose it’s not so bad.”

"Then let's stay close for a while." You could hear the satisfied smirk in his voice.

Your limbs relaxed with each passing second, fitting into him like you were two pieces of a shattered jade. Even under layers of covers, you could still feel the sinking and heaving of his chest, matching your own gradually. When he felt your hands grab at the fabric on his back, he moved to tug them inside his coat. If you felt the weight of his head atop yours, you didn’t mention it. He had always been warmer than his icy appearance would have people believe, and soon you found your energy recharged.

“We’d better get going,” it was you who decided to ruin the comfort. His head nudged against yours, a nod.

Neither of you moved. You had to count to three internally to peel yourself away, and even then you did not part until the very tip of your finger was too far away to linger on.

You didn’t find the tenderness rolling off him unfamiliar at all, contrary to what you’d believed in the morning. For a moment, you even felt a hint of sorrow knowing that it was all chemical reactions. You promptly ignored the weird ache behind your ribs. “Should we head up?”

“After you.”

As you braved the gales with revived strength, you had a hunch that the rest would go smoothly.

—

The road only grew narrower as you neared Skyfrost Nail. The cold had seeped into the gap of the wool again, and you resorted to walking side by side like twin popsicles. Soon, the torches you passed by were no longer bleak and vacant, but instead burning with newly-lit flames. Someone must be nearby.

Frigid fingers grazing your sheath, you pulled each other up broken steps until you found a boulder big enough to fit behind. Not too far away, the camp was set up on open ground with nary a disguise. It was almost like they were hoping to get caught. 

You counted six treasure hoarders, all armed, as they counted the valuables they’d managed to snatch from innocents today. As if dissatisfied, one of them threw a string of jewelry onto the ground.

“Think we could ambush them?” You suggested, turning back to Kaeya.

“Sure. Alternatively, you could distract them with Ki-”

“Oh my god. Give it up!”

“Over my dead body,” he said sheepishly. Shrugging off the heavy wool, he flexed his limbs, rigid from the cold, and stepped up. “Take the ones on the left.”

“Got it.”

As expected, the treasure hoarders were entirely unaware of your presence until Kaeya decided to give them a jumpscare by commenting on the poor quality of their loot from behind. Even then, they were no match against your quick strikes.

The remaining two were tougher, having had time to prepare, but lacking nonetheless. You dodged their clumsy arrows and harmless rocks, scythed the hilt of your sword onto one’s back, and he dropped with a loud thump.

Incapacitating them would be effortless, but it wouldn’t be very knightly to leave them to freeze up here. The standard procedure would be to teach them a lesson and chase them off, then record their information in the archive. Holding your sword before you, you inched closer toward the last enemy, face tight with warning.

His eyes darted between you and his affiliate who got the short end of the stick. Kaeya had been taunting the latter for the past few minutes, encouraging him to land a hit on him and then swerving away in the last second. Typical behavior. 

“Ugh, fuck it,” the man before you drew out a round device from his pocket. Your eyes rounded, brain screaming for action, but his thumb was faster as it pressed down.

Nothing happened. “What did you do?” You demanded.

“A reminder not to stick your nose into others’ business,” he smirked unnaturally, which fell when the ground rumbled. He grabbed his fallen comrades and scrambled away. Another quake came. Kaeya mirrored your look— confusion mixed with horror.

The next time the earth trembled, you realized it was not the earth at all. The thing you’d been standing on rose shakily. Kaeya darted forward to grab your arm before the two of you were thrown onto the ice-paved path, knocking the air out of you.

It was a ruin grader, bulkier than the usual machines scattered across the wilderness. Branches stuck out of its back like horns, and its four limbs were enhanced by an extra layer of metal. Its dull, lifeless eye scanned the both of you before a beam shot out, leaving a puddle of water and burned crisp between you.

“Since when do treasure hoarders know how to control ruin machines?” You yelled as you rolled away from the following beams, struggling onto your feet.

“Since today, apparently. What do you say we make this interesting?”

You already had a guess as to what he intended to propose. “Enlighten me,”

“First one to strike it dead in the eye wins.”

The murderous orb focused on you. An arm flung out. You barely dodged it. “And how shall the loser be punished?”

Kaeya sent an ice spike into its side, but it was in vain. “Pay for drinks for a month?”

“Deal.”

As though irritated by your lack of regard, the machine turned around and crouched, a telltale sign of the attack it was about to unleash. You ran for the spot behind a tree. The whole world shook as the missiles wrecked the land. Snapped branches and ravaged sunsettias tainted the carpet of snow.

As the machine turned its focus on Kaeya, you thrust your sword into the crack between its joints. Hydro swirled around the blade, threatening to drown the machine from the inside out, but it only sputtered a little before its leg reached up, hovering over you. You barely managed to get out of the way. The place you’d been standing just a second ago was now a dent.

“Think we could freeze this thing?” Kaeya shouted from the other side. It sprang into the air and created another cave in the ground. It was restless energy, programmed to only attack whatever was in sight.

“What makes you think I can drench this metal giant in water with just a sword?” You asked, once again dancing around its offenses. Though it was relentless, you still managed to notice a few weaknesses and swung your sword at them. But without destroying the core, obliterating this thing would take a dangerously long time.

“Alright, fine. I have an idea,” the wind brought his voice closer. “Distract it for a bit, will ya?”

“Just do it quickly!” It aimed its giant fist at you, and for a lack of time, you could only counter it with the flat of your sword. Reverberation spread from the point of impact to your hands, like vines overtaking a host. The force sent you flying into the snow, and you groaned at the pain exploding through your back. 

“Oh, come on!” You quickly got up as it prepared to throw up some missiles again. All the running had depleted your stamina, and your throat was as parched as sandpaper. Outside, the cold continued to slice its sharp blade at your ribs. You made a note never to come to Dragonspine again.

A figure behind the machine caught your eyes. Kaeya had managed to climb onto higher ground. With a huff, he pointed the tip of his steel at the machine beneath and leaped into a graceful arc, using the velocity of the fall to penetrate into the robot. The bright eye flickered, and its legs gave out.

All you could feel was your own panting and the light bruises burning all over your body. He crouched and landed in front of you with a flip. Surrounding you was a ruckus— everything shattered and coated with the juice of squashed sunsettias. It looked like a bloodbath.

“I won.” His mouth curled into a victorious sneer, but he had fatigue written all over him, from the pale lips to the slightly inclined posture. His left sleeve had been torn, and an angry wound opened its mouth greedily. Worry rose within you.

“We have to get it bandaged as soon as possible, come on.”

“Aw, are you worried about me, partner?”

You rolled your eyes at him. The sun had long drowned under the horizon, and the air was growing thin with each passing second. At night, Dragonspine would be even more unbearable. You had to leave as soon as possible.

Your lips parted, but then you paused. For a moment you almost thought you saw the grotesque blink of the cracked machine’s core, but it vanished just as abruptly as it’d come. It must’ve been your imagination—

It wasn’t. With its last dying force, it came alive with the intention to kill , kill , kill . It lifted its only unbroken arm, recharged, and swung it at the human who’d disabled it.

It was almost a reflex, the way you grabbed Kaeya’s arm and shoved him to the side. You didn’t even realize what you’d done until the fist came directly for you before the force of a meteorite had your body crashing into the side of the hill. 

The world slowed as Kaeya watched you fall limply to the ground. You were still, unmoving, quiet. His vision went white.

Tingling numbness possessed your body, then came the pain blossoming all over. A persistent ringing haunted your ear. You breathed and felt your ribs crack.

For a moment you thought you were going to die right there, but then the pain ceased amplifying, and the ringing began to subdue. You knew because you could hear Kaeya again, screaming the same words over and over again. It took a while to register them— your name in repeat, like a broken record.

“No, no no no no no,” he mumbled, a shaky hand reaching behind to hold your torso up. His other hand was pressed on the area below your aching ribcage. Once you felt strong enough, you lolled your head to the side to regard him.

“Just-just stay awake, okay?” His voice was strained with fear. You reached out to touch his hand, ignoring the brutal gash on your own. The side of your arm felt sticky. It could’ve been blood, you weren’t sure. You wanted to tell him you were fine, but your voice had been choked out of you the moment you were slammed.

His torso shifted, but his knees stayed grounded. Words spilled out of him like a waterfall, barely comprehensible. Meanwhile you were trying to make sense of why he was so on edge, because despite the injuries here and there, you didn’t feel like you were on the brink of death yet. 

That was until you looked down, wondering why he’d been exerting pressure on your stomach. Then you turned to the side and scanned the place you were lying on. There was red all over, on your clothes and on the ground, bright and sticky and… it didn’t make any sense. You hadn’t heard any tear in your flesh, nothing that could’ve made your blood spill.

“K-Kaeya—” 

“I’m sorry,”

You froze.

“Please, just- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let it happen again, please- this can’t be real,” 

You’d seen him waver before, losing his footing during battles, donning shock while ambushed, face tight in face of a dilemma. But not like this. Not like the whole world was crumbling to ashes in his hands. His confidence, which was usually indivisible from him, had long vanished. In its place was terror. The horror in his eye was a living thing, gnawing at him. Possessing him. It twisted his face into a portrait of agony.

He had never acted like this before. Even then you knew that this image would be seared into your brain forever as a painful thread of memory. 

You loosened your hold on him and touched the ‘wound’ on your stomach. A press. Nothing. Gingerly you brought your wet hand to your face. It smelled sweet and fresh.

Smashed sunsettias. Their color was less deep than blood, and the texture was stickier. You’d mistaken it for your own life. The absurdity was almost hilarious.

“Kaeya,” you called again, but he wouldn’t face you. Flakes had collected at his lashes, and tears were threatening to break the dam. You put your hand to his cold cheek. Finally he looked at you through a haze. “I’m fine, this- this isn’t blood,”

“What?” He croaked, still as a statue. There was an attempt to collect himself when he gazed around. He did the same thing— feel the texture, the smell, albeit with a lot more hesitation.

Realization, acknowledgement, relief. Wave after wave of emotions sprayed across his tight features like a slideshow. When his brows finally let loose, you half expected him to scoff, or maybe crack a joke about the ludicrousness of it all, but instead he sank his head onto your shoulder and held you like a fragile statue. 

He was trembling, you figured, with the effort he took to control the tears. Your heart lurched, and you wrapped your arms around him within an instant.

You’d done it. You’d scared the cavalry captain to the point of crying. Yet every gasp that came was a stab to your guts. His back shook against your hands, and you had this terrible thought that he was about to shatter into thousands unretrievable pieces.

Time passed without a sound and eventually dried his tears. You stayed still, holding onto each other, clinging onto life. The air was filled with your 

“Archons,” he breathed, slowly beginning to build up that wall around him. When he pulled away it almost sucked all the warmth out of you. “That was- that was scary,” he placed hand on his chest. “Why did you do that?” He reprimanded.

“Oh, I don’t know, I just really wanted to get punched by a ruin grader,” you chuckled in an attempt to draw at least a smile out of him, but it only resulted in a pained wince. “I think my ribs are broken.”

“Yea, and your hand.” He jutted his jaw at the wound.

“Aside from that, I’m as good as new,” with his help you sat yourself up, taking breaths as slowly as possible. Remnants of that broken expression were still lingering on his face. Pinkness surrounded his eyes. “And you? Are you alright?”

He scoffed. “Of course I am. Come on, I’ll help you down.”

“Sure you can do it?”

He nodded and let you sling your arm around his neck. You were both shivering. From the chill or fear, you weren’t sure, but with you leaning your weight on him, you leeched the warmth off of each other, a reminder that you weren’t alone. 

As you limped back the way you came, you almost lost his words to the wind: Please don’t do that again , they said. Kaeya’s face was as unreadable as ever, but his tight clutch around you said more than enough.

—

The adventurers all but scrambled towards you when they saw the ghastly states you were in. It felt like burning when you sat near the bonfire to thaw the cold clinging onto you. You flexed your limbs once they’d been bandaged. None of the wounds were too serious, and your broken ribs would probably heal after a few restful days.

Yet the night was no longer young, and it would be unwise to set out when you could barely breathe without wincing, so you decided at last to stay till the following morning. An hour or two must've gone by with everyone fussing around you. It was only after a brief dinner that Kaeya managed to steal a moment with you after all the stolen glances from a distance.

"A mora for your thoughts?" He claimed the spot next to you, overlooking the tranquil river and the moon, swaying among the waves like a sunken piece of jade. Met with a lack of response, he continued, "Two moras? Ten? My whole life-saving?"

"That's not really an upgrade from ten moras, is it?"

"Sounds like you are underestimating my financial well-being." 

He was not without injuries. With his sleeve rolled up, you could see the thick layer of bandage wrapped around his arm. There were a few bandaids decorating his skin here and there, but what really gave his fatigue away was his bleary eye. 

Images of his torn expression resurfaced. “I feel like I should apologize.”

He reclined, gaze elsewhere. “What for?”

“For giving you such a scare with that sunsettia stunt,” you waved at the stubborn stains on your clothes. 

“It won’t be that easy for your apology to be accepted.” He quirked his brow. “I’m going to need something more sincere.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to cover your drinking expenses for two months.”

“Tempting, but no,” his airy chuckle filled the air. “I just want you to answer this mystery that’s been plaguing me.”

You sighed and nodded.

“Why did you jump in to save me? You know what it could have cost.”

There were mysteries in life that just had no answers, and you were sure this was one of them. It was more of an instinct than an act of reason. The image of the metal fist coming down on him had planted a fear enormous enough that it’d swallowed your senses.

At last, you settled on: “I’m a knight. Saving people is kind of my job.”

“Yes, but aren’t we supposed to be rivals? Competitors? Something like that?”

“We are ,” you rushed to answer, though the word rang hollow in your head. “That doesn’t mean I have to watch you die.”

“It’s kind of hard to believe that when you seize every chance to make your loathing be known-”

“I don’t loathe you. You’re being dramatic”

“Right. We just don’t really see eye to eye.”

Your face tightened. There was a significant beat of silence where you could feel his eye burning holes on your back. 

The next time he spoke, his voice sounded almost foreign. “I don’t hate you, in case you think I do.”

“Then why do you keep getting on my nerves?” 

He shifted, huffing a little when he had to strain his injured arm to push his body up. You anticipated the possible answers: because it’s fun, because it’s entertaining, and just a tad bit cute. Because it fed his ego.

“Because I want to keep you around, and annoying you seems to be the key,”

You looked for the usual mischief on his face, anything to prove that he was joking, but to no avail.

“And… if I have to be absolutely honest, I quite like you.” The words rolled out of him like waves, descending into the river. Your mouth ran dry. Something was restricting your airway, and it wasn’t your broken bones. Not even in the most peculiar dreams would you have imagined him saying those words to you. 

But it was just the potion at work here, wasn’t it?

“You sure do an awful job of showing it.”

“You’re just awful at noticing it.” 

“Fine,” you scooted towards him pointedly. “Prove it then. Tell me just one thing you like about me.”

“That’ll be easy,” he said, tapping his chin. “Firstly, your hangover cure, the recipe of which is still hidden from the world”

"And it always will be,” you thinned your lips, feeling disappointment creep up on you. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.

“Secondly, you’re one of the most competent knights I’ve ever known. There’s rarely a situation you can’t get yourself out of, and you handle my trials without fail.”

“Ah, yes. Your trials. Like that time you had us trapped in that labyrinth of a domain?”

“And you were the first to get out.”

You hadn’t thought that an acknowledgement from someone whom you’d always felt inferior to would mean anything to you, but it stirred your insides anyways, toying with the threads of your emotions. 

“The third reason, your unrivaled courage shines as brightly as the sun. Never once have you backed out from a challenge, although in exchange you’ve sustained quite the amount of injuries and put me in cardiac arrest.”

Evidently.

Carefully you asked, unexpected even to yourself, “Anything else?” 

“Your sense of responsibility. Your cat imitations-” he ignored your pointed look. “- the way you sometimes draw words from me unknowingly. Your silly habits, the way your words slur when you’re tipsy. And you wear your heart on your sleeve too, did you know that?”

You shook your head. “How so?”

“Do you remember the time Fischl invited us to some kind of Immernachtreich feast? And we thought it was going to be fine because Fischl usually isn’t that bad of a cook, but…”

“But she decided to create dishes that shouldn’t even exist and called them local cuisines? Yea, I remember,” you chuckled at the memory.

“You were trying really hard to finish the dishes— and you actually did, you have my respect for that— but everyone could see that you were struggling.”

You grimaced. “Even Fischl?”

“Especially Fischl. I had to comfort her and lie about you being sick prior to the feast to make her feel better.”

“Wows. Now I feel like a jerk,” you buried your head behind your folded arms, overriding your memories with the accurate one, until your chest jolted with laughter. Everything about that day was so ridiculous it’s funny, though further reminiscence would probably give you a stomachache.

Something light flitted across his face, a spark of recognition. The moonlight was fond of its favorites; it shone a round, silvery arc behind him, limning every strand of his hair. “Your laugh, too. That’s what I like about you, even though you rarely direct it at me,” he bowed his head. “You’re so clever, yet so oblivious. I always get sidetracked by the sound of your laughs, but you never noticed.

“You wanna know something else? You're unwavering, constant, like the sea. Doesn't matter if you're a tempest or calm water, I feel grounded just by looking at you." He breathed a laugh. "You know… I never know how to make people stay. Perhaps that's why you couldn't see how much you mean to me."

He lifted his head again, though his gaze escaped you. Instead, he watched with a lidded eye as his hand inched toward you, slowly, timidly, like a ghost creeping into the light. Slender fingers wrapped around yours, warmer than his vision would have you believe. 

“I really hope I’m right about this, but surely you feel the same, right?”

A part of you still adamantly wanted to say no, that you disliked him with every fiber of your being, that his teasing and self-assured ways irked you to no end, but you knew it wouldn’t be true. The truth lay dormant within you, lodged in your spine like a ragged dagger. You weren’t so unabashed that you would deny its unquestionable existence.

You never did hate him. It was just so much easier to be furious than to admit how badly you longed to have him in your heart. From the very beginning, you’d simply been a blind chaser of the unattainable moon, frustrated by the emptiness that greeted your grasps. 

“I do.” You admitted, quietly but surely. He smiled.

Air was zapped between you, an invisible string pulling him in, pushing you toward the precarious edge. He was so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, clouding your senses. There was no denying the eager jump in your throat, the blood pumping in your veins so vigorously it hurt. 

He reached for your cheek, palm resting there like it was made for him to hold.

Now, this moon was right in front of you, face bare and open with hope.

But you didn’t want it.

The bushes rustled, and out came one of the adventurers. “We’ve already set up the- oh. Oh, sorry-”

Both of your heads snapped towards him, and you tore yourself away, restoring that precious distance between you. “Be there in a minute.”

“Okay.” He looked pointedly between you and the quiet captain before scurrying away.

Your heart had not ceased trampling. You got up on your feet, “We should head back.”

“So soon?”

His hand, you realized, was still placed where you’d wrung yourself from him. Downcast was his eye as he waited for your answer.

You nodded, knowing better. It was all a cruel joke played by the hands of some mindless concoction. Even without everything he’d said, you’d already noticed the effects; fondness laced in his actions, tenderness in his words, everything fragile that you would lose in a blink. 

“…You’re right. We should get some rest.” was what he said, but the frozen hurt on his wound of a face told you otherwise.

Without surprise, you were the one who walked away first.

—

By the time the knights arrived it was already past noon. Your ribs got better in a flash, courtesy of the healer that came with.

Kaeya stuck around for the trek back to the city, but he was uncharacteristically quiet save for the short and light-hearted exchanges he shared with others. When you shot him a probing look, he only flashed you the usual smile, charming to most, hollow to you. 

“I was going to ask you to come grab a drink with me, but then I figured you’d better take a long rest,” he finally said when the windmills came into view. “Actually, you should take a few days off too, just in case someone accuses me of exploiting my partner."

"I could say the same about you," you referred to his bandaged arm. The truth was, it would really help to have something to numb yourself after spending an entire night rolling in a less than cozy tent while trying to ignore the obvious lumps against your back.

That, and the infinite train of thoughts running through your head at lightspeed.

No matter- you were going to find Sucrose and have her prepare an antidote and put your mind at ease. Case closed.

There were only a handful of places Sucrose could be, and you got it right with your first guess. Muffled chatters dropped silent as you knocked on the door to the laboratory, and out came a curious Sucrose. A smile graced her face as she took you in, and she opened the door to reveal Lisa, head swiveled around to meet you.

"Here you are, dear. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, right! How are your injuries? I could see if there's any medicine lying around," Sucrose followed you back into the room. On the table were several open books, filled to the edges with incomprehensible scribbles and complicated diagrams. Beakers and test tubes were set up on another bench, a sign that they were probably on something important.

"I'm already feeling as good as new, don't worry. I see that words spread like wildfire around here,"

"Pretty hard to ignore when you work inside the headquarters," Lisa said. A moment passed as she observed your facial expressions. "So? How did your little expedition go?"

You knew what she was hinting at. Heaving a sigh, you instead turned to Sucrose. "So, remember a few days ago when you gave me a bunch of potion samples?"

She nodded sharply. 

"Well… someone accidentally drank the love potion, and I'm pretty sure it took effect–" Lisa hummed meaningfully. "-- so I was wondering if you could make a cure for it?"

"Oh," realization dawned on her face, morphing into worry as she moved to flip through the worn, yellow pages. "That sounds awful, but just for science purposes, what symptoms did they show?"

"Flirting, being touchier than usual, unexplained jealousy, this and that." You chewed the inside of your cheek, decidedly leaving out the scene on Dragonspine. "And verbally expressing affection."

Her pen moved like lightning as she wrote. "I see… alright then, I'll make it right away!"

"Oh, thank you so much. I was worried that that pink stuff would have no antidote."

"There's always a solution to a problem," Lisa stated, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes. "Maybe you would like to share more about the symptoms, you know, for research purposes?"

You were about to retort when Sucrose turned to you, confused. "Sorry, but…you’re sure it was a love potion?"

You nodded.

"But it was pink?"

Another bob of your head.

"That's weird. Love potions aren't pink, they're green."

"What?" You croaked. "No, that was– I mean, pink's for love, right?"

"Alchemy doesn't really care about sentiments. Or color theories, for that matter," she murmured. "If I remember correctly, the pink one should be a… truth potion. It forces someone to tell only the truth. Are you sure about the symptoms?"

"WIthout a doubt."

"Mm. But then that would mean…" she trailed off as the gears kicked off in your brain. Lisa looked as unfazed as ever, simply watching on with a knowing grin. 

That doesn't make sense. If Sucrose was right and it'd really been a truth potion that Kaeya had drunk, then it meant–

– everything he'd said was true. And if he had indeed been displaying signs of interest, then– 

"No," you muttered. "It's not possible."

"Darling, it's right in front of you," Lisa shook her head incredulously. "I'm surprised it took you this long to figure it out."

Figure what out? That Kaeya fricking Alberich actually, honestly, truthfully liked you? Not in the friendly kind, but in the romantic kind?

It’s not… possible. Right?

You started to rewind. Every single year you’d spent knowing him, every snippet of memory too short to hold onto…

It all sounded like a joke, but it only took a little thinking to realize that the clues had been there all along, scattered across time and space. Teasings you’d always mistaken for playfulness, gestures that could very well be genuine in their nature. And the things he said— all this time —

“If, um,” Sucrose grimaced at the blank state of your face, “If it’s a truth potion, you can just wait for it to wear out. The period of effectiveness is rarely long…”

“Okay,” you managed to utter a single word, because- damn it , the way you walked away last night after everything that had happened was nothing short of cruel.

You turned on your heels, desperation setting in. Lisa’s confused question hung and faded in the air as you excused yourself out of the room, a single motive standing out among the cluster of thoughts.

You had to fix things.

—

Kaeya’s office being vacant was nothing out of the ordinary, but when he was neither at the tavern or at home, you found yourself walking in circles through the streets, looking for just a brief sign of his whereabouts.

Muscle memory led you back home in the end, but as you turned the corner, you found the man you’d been searching for lingering in front of the door, now dragging a loose sack on the ground.

“Kaeya!” You called, picking up the pace. There wasn't anyone else around this neighborhood. He whipped his head around and, at the sight of you, bloomed into a smile. 

How could you have ever missed that?

“I thought I told you to get some rest. Where did you go wandering off to?”

“It’s not important. I need to- wait, why are you here?”

He clicked his tongue, lifting the sack by a mere inch. “Diluc ambushed me out of nowhere and chastised me for putting you in danger. And then he threw me this ugly bag and told me to deliver this to you,” he put a hand-sized container in your hand. “It’s an ointment. Works magic for cuts.”

“I’ll thank him later,” you pocketed it. “What’s in the sack?”

“Oh, you know, bandages, medicine and whatnot. I was expecting wine, but I guess this will do.”

Despite his offhand shrug, he donned a smile that warmed your heart— but that wasn’t why you were here. You shook off the distraction and sucked in a breath. “I need to tell you something.”

“Alright. But you should first know that I have very high standards and won’t accept just any love confessions.” He moved to lean against the wall.

You rolled your eyes. “Sure. It’s not gonna stop me from trying though.”

His smirk drooped. You were once again reminded of the eternal satisfaction of being able to catch him off guard. 

“It’s gonna sound totally absurd, but… I do like you. And it’s not as a friend.” The words stumbled out of you. Your heart was in a frenzy, jumping on a trampoline.

“As a colleague then?” He snickered at the irritation showing on your countenance. “Okay, sorry… You really mean it?”

“Absolutely.”

“I see,” his voice dropped in volume. “Then why did you leave me hanging last night?”

“I didn’t think you liked me.”

“I told you-”

“I know! But I thought you were…” you grimaced.

“Drugged?”

You froze. He spent a torturous moment confirming his theory before sighing. “I don’t usually get drunk, you know. Even if I do, I recall everything. I remember what I put inside my body. So what kind of potion was it?”

“A truth potion.” You murmured.

“And… you thought it was a love potion?”

“Congrats, you got it right,” you pursed your lips, the ordeal entirely too embarrassing for you to deal with. Your eyes dashed around, anxious for a response.

It was an ill-contained snicker. You frowned as laughter bubbled out of him, crinkles forming around the corner of his eye. “You really took the long way round, didn’t you? I can’t believe it took you this long.”

“Yea, go ahead and laugh. As if I’m not embarrassed out of my mind already.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he dropped the bag and cut off the distance between you with a bold step. “Although it is frustrating to watch, I can’t deny that it’s a bit endearing.”

You tilted your head up, “Is this you being honest or has the potion already expired?”

“It’s just me. Promise,” he cupped your face between his palms, playfulness smeared across his expression. Years of partnership, and this was the first time you saw him in a way that was true to your heart. You wanted to ask him about when he first fell for you, what all those words he’d muttered when he thought you’d been facing death meant, and many many more mysteries that coated around him. 

“You know,” you pulled back just as he was about to lean in. He looked offended at being rejected a second time. “About what you said last night…I’ll stay even if you don’t ask me to.”

He scoffed lightly, face softening. He didn't need to say anything for you to know what he was thinking.

This time, you were the one who made the move.

[coffeehighallthetime-blog]

I'm Kind, Not Complacent chpt 7

chpt 7

word count: 2.6k

pairing: gow heimdall x reader, kids!

A/N: hello. I'm sorry this is late, I have been going through it 👉👈 and I'm just trying my best lol. thank you as usual to everyone who likes and comments and thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy it! there is not much Heimdall content in this chapter but I hope you enjoy hanging out with Freya!

@engardeitsme thank you, lovey for your support I appreciate you endlessly!

@nokolla @lunaryasha, thank you for reading and appreciating my writing! if anyone else would like to be tagged just let me know!. hope you all enjoy!

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Freya’s room was full of natural sunlight. Her windows reached from floor to ceiling, creating triangular shapes through the plant-filled space. Bare wooden beams braided with ivy vines and sweet moss towered high above into the scaffolding, and Yn’s eyes trailed from one to the other, how different breeds of plants dangled from hooks, and spiralled down towards her as if they wanted to greet her.

Yn turned her eyes to Freya's back as she walked around her table, watering her different plants. 

“Go on then, pick up a watering can,” Freya spoke over her shoulder and Yn stiffened at being caught staring around once again before setting her things down and grabbing a pail, dipping it into a deep basin before joining Freya in water the plants around the room.

Yn had been going to lessons with Freya for nearly two months now, and the days always started the same. Freya never came to get her, it was Yn’s responsibility to come to the chamber on time, and if she was late, Freya stated the door would be locked. The goddess had taught her on her first day the importance of caring for the plants, especially since they were going to be taking from them. It must be an equal exchange. As a result, they had spent the first two weeks focusing on the care of Freya’s plants, how to water, how much, what the soil needs to be like for each specimen, feeding carnivorous varieties, pruning dead leaves and shriveled growth, and finally spells to whisper whilst the care is given to promote healthy growth. It had all made the girl's head spin at first, and the goddess didn’t seem to care if she caught up to the information or fell behind. Despite this, Yn quickly picked up the pieces, taking every challenge in stride with a smile on her face.

Freya finished first, sitting to prepare a pot of tea for the two as she watched the girl finish her pruning and watering. In their first few sessions, Yn would rush to finish after seeing Freya had stopped. However, after being scolded about skipping steps, clipping fresh leaves, and underwatering, the girl had learned to ignore what was going on around her and focus on doing a diligent job on her own time.

Freya would wait patiently, brewing tea and setting up the rest of their lesson. She had note cards next to specimens, explaining their names and what they were used for. There were step-by-step instructions on potions, with the ingredients put to the side, and pronunciations of incantations.

“It’s important we look at individual pieces. This way we can distinguish what needs to be added together to get the results we want.” Freya explained as Yn approached, sitting to sip her tea as Freya finished setting up. 

“These are the specimens I had you research last week. I want you to look at each one, and from memory, tell me what each one is used for and how to apply it best.” Yn nodded as she immediately started to examine leaf shapes and textures to sort the different plants, writing her deductions on fresh parchment. Freya gave her this test once a week, and as Yn’s pen moved swiftly against the paper, the goddess could not help the pride that bubbled, nor could she ignore the raven watching them from the rafters, its bright red eye trained on the girl as she flawlessly recited newfound knowledge. Freyr glared up at it from the corner of her eye, a vine whipping to shoo it off its perch,  “After this, we will work on spell pronunciation and if there is time, we will spare until the sun sets.”

“Yes, ma’am.” the girl spoke, focused on her task. Freya raised a brow as the girl started to configure the plants in a pattern of the different characteristics they possessed, and then into the different medicines they could be used for, Including tonics the goddess had not yet taught her. In particular, a medicine using a combination of yarrow and mallow.  Yn looked up to meet Freya’s gaze and smiled sheepishly. “I noticed these are both strong plants for healing and thought they may be good for a wider variety of healing if they were to be combined. Mimir taught me a bit about mallow, which is from here in Asgard, but this is from Vanir, right?” She held up the yarrow and Freya nodded.

“You’re combining ingredients from different realms?”

“O-oh, is that not allowed?” Yn frowned, lowering the plants, grabbing her notes, and flipping to a page for Freya to see her writings. The girl had been doing some of her own research on the combinations of specimens. Freya’s brow furrowed as she read the scribbles. They were conclusions she had come to but never thought to teach the girl for fear it may bring too much attention to her from Odin. 

“ It’s complicated. We are meant to be focusing on Vanir magic for the time being.”

“Ah ok… I just thought… u-m it’s stupid, I’m sorry-” Freya shook her head and smiled, tapping at the girl’s notes.

“Explain it to me.” Yn smiled and explained her process as Freya pushed over the mortar and pestle so they could test the hypothesis. The magic was sound and Freya couldn’t help the smile that kept pulling at her cheeks. The girl was exceptionally bright and used her affinity for logic to aid her in her studies. Odin was right to show an interest in the girl, and that was the true cause for Freya’s want to keep the girl at the basics for as long as possible. Yet despite this, the girl’s intelligence was inspiring and her passion, infectious. For a moment, on these odd mornings during lessons, Freya lost herself in the innocence of the young goddess’s exploration and tried her best to ignore her true reason for being tasked to teach the girl.  

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I can’t do this,” Freya whispered to Mimir as they traded the girl for her lessons. The man stiffened slightly, resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. He smiled down at her and pushed her toward the door. 

“Go set your things down, lass, I’ll be right with ya.” Yn frowned but complied, worried she was in trouble. As the door shut, Mimir whipped to stare down at the goddess.

“That is not for you to decide.”

“She’s just a child.” Freya stood ridged, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at the satir. Mimir stood his ground, his visage unreadable to her. Freya had always hated his ability to not show his emotions on his face. 

“She’s been given a purpose here, my queen. A purpose bestowed onto her by the All-Father himself. Or have you forgotten?”

“I have forgotten nothing,” she spat, her eyes like hot coals. “I know very well why she’s here and refuse to continue raising another warhorse for him to-

“The girl is bright and strong, and we are only helping her on-”

“So she can be used to kill millions-”

“This is not our choice-”

“There is no choice!” The goddess’s wings flexed out, the feathers rattling as her shoulders shook with rage. Mimir stood like a statue, his bifrost eyes shimmering finally with an emotion Freya could see; sorrow.

“You know as well as I do,” Mimir spoke softly, a melancholic smile on the corner of his lips, “that this is beyond the both of us…” He turned, placing his hand on the door of his study, “every day I am with her, I feel like I am raising my own child… and then leading her to her death…” His eyes pointed into a deep glare as he looked at the goddess over his shoulder, “But I’ll be damned if I don’t equip her with the tools to give her a fighting chance.” 

Mimir opened the door and walked in wordlessly, leaving it open by a hair. Freya could hear the girl on the other side, asking if the goddess was upset with her. 

“Now who could ever be upset with you, little thing.” Mimir’s voice rumbled through the door. Freya peaked through the crack, watching as Mimir ruffled the girl’s hair and her laugh filled her chest and sank to her stomach. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“That’s enough, child,” Freya spoke softly to the girl, setting down her water and sitting on a stool, ushering Yn to do the same. “You are doing well. I don’t even need to keep an eye on you, anymore.”

“Thank you, Ms. Freya,” Yn spoke softly as she pulled herself onto her stool. She picked up the teapot sitting at the wooden table and slowly poured some into the goddess’s cup before filling her own. “Do you think I’ll be ready to learn spells soon?” Freya hummed and sipped her tea, the steam whsiping up into the rafters. 

“Possibly. How do you feel about pronunciation?” the girl shuffled slightly in her seat, pouring honey into her cup.

“I’ve been practicing every morning and night, miss. I really do think I’m ready. I-I’ve been excited to start spells as I have been working hard on potions and medicine a-and want to start on new lessons so that I can be of use to the All-Father sooner-”

“Why do you want to learn magic, Yn.” the girl paused, her cup hovering just below her lips. 

“Well… I thought that’s why I was here.” she lowered her cup, letting the warmth of the cup heat her hands. “Mimir a-and the All-Father-”

“I did not ask what the two old men want, or why we need to be in this room together for two hours every other day,” Freya spoke, her face like a stone as she looked down at the girl. Yn swallowed dryly, setting her cup down and staring down at her knees. Freya frowned, and tucked a finger under the girl’s chin, tilting her head up for their eyes to meet. “I’m asking why you want to be here…why do you stay…” 

Yn stared up into Freya’s eyes, feeling a sense of calm rush over her. Her shoulders relaxed and she stared back at the goddess, her vision steady.

“I want to know….” Freya smiled, releasing her chin 

“Know what?” she asked, crossing her arms. 

“I want to know… about the world. About my place in it. I want to know how to be an actual deity. Someone who can be strong enough to protect people, to protect Vanaheim, as you did…I can’t do that if I don’t even know the extent of what I am. Goddess of peace who only knows how to manipulate…goddess of logic who thinks too much with her heart…” Freya listened in silence, letting the girl speak before resting a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. 

“There are always more sides to a god than originally known. I am the goddess of love and family, but I am also the goddess of war.” the girl nodded slowly, wrapping her head around the idea there may be more to her than even she knew.

“S-so you are saying those opposites… may be a part of me for a reason? That could be…full of chaos and madness?” the girl trembled at the thought, her skin going pale. Freya frowned, setting down her own cup and resting a hand on her lap. 

“Possibly, but possibly not.” Freya’s voice was strong and caring, her eyes focused on the girl’s, “But just because they are, does not make you a goddess to be feared. Two sides of a coin just help to have a deeper understanding of oneself.” the girl still couldn’t stop the tremble in her hands but looked up to meet the goddess’s gaze, her breath steadying. Freya closed her hands around the girl’s. “We will figure everything out together. I promise.” Yn swallowed and slipped out of her stool, hugging Freya around the waist and burying her face in the woman’s stomach. Freya wrapped her arms around the girl, squeezing her tightly. She  couldn’t help the hot coal sinking down her throat and settling in the pit of her stomach, knowing she was bound to both teach the girl and tell Odin about every instance of growth until she was what he envisioned her to be. They were all nothing but puppets in the end. 

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“Mimir?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’m dangerous?”

The man froze mid-stride, looking down at the girl beside him, her hand clasped in his as they walked to supper. She frowned at his stiffness and looked away, tugging him down the hall.

“It’s ok… I guess I already knew the answer…” Mimir didn’t budge, pulling the girl gently back next to him and crouching down to her level. Yn looked at her feet, and when the satir tried to meet her gaze, she turned to avoid it. 

“Lass, look at me.” When her head didn’t budge he tilted her head up and had to hold in a chuckle at the weak glare pointed at him. “Now what’s all this about?” she shuffled her feet, kicking up dust. 

“ I don’t want to be a bad god…” She whispered, her hands wringing at the hem of her tunic. “Freya said I may be a goddess with more sides… meant to be able to manipulate and cause chaos… but I don’t want to be those things, I don’t want people to be scared of me.” She pushed, looking up at the man. “She said that it’ll be ok… but I still wanted to tell you because I don’t want you to think you should be scared…” Mimir sighed and shook his head with a smile. 

“How could I ever be scared of you, sweet girl?” She huffed softly, rubbing her eyes. 

“I don’t know…” he stood back up, ushering her with a hand to her back. 

“Come on then. What say you we start with dessert tonight?”

“Really?”

“Sure! Just uh, don’t tell the queen.”

The girl hummed in agreement, but despite Mimir’s words and promise of sweets, she couldn’t stop the new knowledge of what she may be fester inside her, letting it fill her with dread. Freya had wanted to teach her, a Mimir had wanted to reassure, but really all they did was leave the girl with more fear and unanswered questions.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

For the first night in a while, Heimdall had been able to sleep peacefully without the overbearing ring of noises from the lodge keeping him awake. He lay curled in his furs, soft puffs of air passing past his lips as his chest raised and fell in a slow gentle rhythm. A knock and rattle of his door stirred him awake. He groaned, throwing the covers over his head, hoping they were lingering sounds that would soon dissipate as he fell deeper into the sleep. Maybe it was a drunk trying to get into his room downstairs or across the hall. There was silence and then another set of knocks, followed by a quiet voice whispering his name through the door. Heimdall frowned, his brows furrowing as he rubbed the sleep from his face. He slowly willed himself to sit up and looked over at his door, listening closer.

“Heimdall…” the voice trembled, “C-can I please come in?” the boy’s feet carried him to the door before he fully knew what he was doing, and he opened to meet glassy eyes staring back at him. Yn’s face brightened despite the tear stains, and she rubbed her eyes.

“I'm sorry, I know you were sleeping well and I didn’t want to-“

“Just,” he sighed, grabbing her wrist. “Come in so I can get back to sleep.” He didn’t let her respond, dragging her into his bed and laying his head back on his pillow, holding the covers open for her. Yn sniffled softly, and laid down next to him, letting his warmth slowly calm her. “What’s wrong.” He mumbled, his eyes already closed. Yn looked up at his face, how he was already starting to doze off. He had truly come a long way, and under other circumstances, she would have smiled. 

“I’m worried I may be a bad god.”

“There is no such thing as a bad god, only weak underlings” he grunted, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on the top of her head. She hummed, expecting an answer akin to this from the Aesir, still, it didn’t ease her.

“Still… I think people here are afraid of me… most of the maids won’t even look at me and the einherjar avoid me on the sparing grounds a-and even in the great hall…even at breakfast!…” she swallowed. “W-what if Mimir or Freya-”

“Anyone afraid of you is either brainless, “he spoke through a yawn, “or a coward. Now go to sleep.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Am I brainless or a coward?”

“No-” 

“There you go.”

“Hm…” the girl smiled slightly, rubbing her eyes and yawning as she settled in the bed. “But do you dislike me?”

“If I disliked you would I wake up in the middle of the night and waste my precious sleep hours consoling your idiotic claims.” She didn’t respond and this was answer enough. He huffed through his nose, pulling the covers closer. “Go to bed, songbird.” She buried her head in his chest, sighing with a tired smile.

“Thank you, weasel…”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[kyemeruthie]

Un-calendared

"Uy, wala na sa kalendaryo yung edad mo!"

Common joke among young adults. Literal translation yata yung title. Anyway, people stop counting at either 25 or 30/31, depending on the level of acceptance.

Then comes the more ~difficult/ annoying comments. Get married, have kids, settle down. In my case, puro ka aral, nakaka-intimidate ka na siguro kaya ganyan. Oof.

My birthday month marks the end of the 1st quarter and the designated time to celebrate women and our contribution to society. For a patriarchal society such as ours, we celebrate women in lip service - go, be empowered, but not so much as to bruise the ego of men. So much for Fire Prevention (and on this month too).

Should women be defined by marriage and their capability to bear children? I don't think so. I mean, sure, it's a God-given commandment, but it is equally a duty. A big responsibility. So, we should not leave offhanded remarks such as these.

Enough with the political commentary. We should know the drill by now.

///

It's a big blessing my birthday fell on a Friday, a perfect segue to a long weekend. Hehe. I did most of my favorite things -- get some pampering and relax, read a book somewhere quiet, eat dinner with our family. Ticked all the boxes, a well-deserved gift. Thank you, Lord!

I enjoyed a bit of solitude today. It shields me from a lot of noise. I was initially planning not to open my phone too much, but since we have a big event on Monday, I thought I should still be on call just to be sure. Anyway, our team did not bother me much with concerns, so it was a peaceful day.

Finally found the courage to dye my hair. Still on the safe side, but who cares really. I liked it.

Could have spent some more time reading, but since it's near payday, people flocked to the mall and there's not much sitting areas. Should probably do this on Sunday or whenever before the second semester rush kicks in.

///

Blessing I'm thankful for: no back pain, I can still stretch my body. Hahaha! I enjoy the job I do. There are times when I feel overwhelmed and stressed out, but God always gives me breathing room. Pay's not to high, but enough to meet our daily needs. A win, still.

We're getting recognition as expert in economics. Need to sharpen further my analysis of issues, so we can move to the next level. But even then, the regular quotes from BWorld is already a good start.

I'm also grateful that I get to cook for my siblings, prepare baon and stuff. I enjoy it. Cleaning has also been a fun thing to do. Marie Kondo's spirit probably took over. Also, I have finally learned how to cold brew coffee, make my own Spanish latte and mocha. Hihi.

Stuff I'm praying for: recently wrote down (finally) my prayer for a partner in life. Lord, please naman. I guess I'm at a stage where I'd also want to spend time with someone, invest in a relationship. Inasmuch as I find our society a difficult place to raise kids, I still want one. Twins pala. Wuw.

Also, praying for a big win in scholarship for PHD and some more preparatory workshops and conferences. I'm asking God for more time to write and really pin down my research direction.

Time to (literally) plant. Patience really to take care of my pananim. Ilang beses na silang nategi. Hahaha. Also, to really make it a habit to exercise hahaha! Enjoying our weekly Zumba at the uni, also morning stretches. Recently, I was unable to do it regularly. Mejo lethargic. Trying, trying.

///

On hiatus ang aking podcast, mostly because I had to check assignments and essays, then upload grades. Preparing for the second season hahaha! Kala mo naman.

///

Eto na muna. I just typed randomly my thoughts here. Good birthday this year, no drama. :)

[beautifulbows924]

Reflections 

Steven Grant & Marc Spector x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

A/N: I’m not sure about this one, I had to edit it a lot and it originally had a fluffier ending, but I decided to lean into the angst. Sorry for destroying your hearts, but I won’t be writing anymore for this series until after the next episode comes out, mwahahaha. As always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:)

Word Count: 1.8K+

Warnings: Angst, Spoliers, self loathing, something important is revealed about the reader.

Summary: You’ve been friends with Marc your whole life, always secretly wishing you could be something more. So when he goes missing for months and suddenly turns up at your door asking you to help make sure one of his alters, ‘Steven’, doesn’t find out about the mess his life has become- of course you say yes. But what does that mean for you and Marc? Especially, when you’ve started to fall in love with Steven too.

Previous Part: Double the Trouble

Next Part: Of Gods and Men

A new pattern has formed.

Whereas you used to find yourself stumbling alone into the bathroom at all hours of the night. Now, most of your sleepless nights are spent with Steven.

When you find yourself out of bed, you’ll call him, ponder your feelings, and wait for a knock at the door.

You always enjoy your time with him. His company is calming, familiar, and yet so different.

He likes to talk to you about the museum. Some mistake they made on a poster or a new exhibit that’s supposed to open soon. He rambles on a lot, but it’s endearing. You’re certain that you could listen to him talk for hours.

Coffee brews behind you quietly, paralleling when Marc came barreling back into your life, bringing Steven along for the ride with him. You haven’t seen him since that night, and you can’t help but think he’s been avoiding you.

A knock sounds at the door. It’s hesitant, but you still hear it.

You throw it open and Steven practically falls into you, his head finding the crook of your neck, his arms winding around your frame in a tight embrace. You’re used to physical contact with him, but it’s never this immediate or intimate. Nonetheless, you welcome him in, kicking the door closed behind you.

“Are you okay Stevie?”, you ask him, concern written all over your face.

He smiles at the use of his nickname, you’re the only one he lets call him that. But it’s gone by the time he pulls back to look at you, “I don’t- I’m not sure”.

He looks exhausted like he does most of the days you see him. But it’s almost worse this time.

“Did something happen?”, you urge him gently.

“I’m still seeing things- hearing things”, he tells you, leaning his chin on your shoulder.

You know he needs reassurance.

“It’s alright, I promise. I’m right here, I’m real”, you rub soothing circles against his back with your thumb. You hate not telling him the whole truth. He deserves to know.

The guilt leaves a sour taste on your tongue.

“I know, it’s not you”, he says, “You’re the only constant in my life. Our relationship is the only one that has ever come naturally to me”.

If you felt bad before, you feel a hundred times worse now. You think about demanding Marc to tell him the next time you see him, but you already know you’re not going to like his answer.

“Steven, we need to talk”, you regret the words the second they come out of your mouth.

“I don’t like the sound of that, but okay, what about?”, he says, clearly worried, pulling himself away from you completely.

You gesture for him to follow you and he does, hands fidgeting, racking his brain for what he possibly could have done.

He starts to blabber as soon as he sits down, “I’ve finally done it haven’t I- I’ve called you one too many times- or was the hug too much? Too long maybe? I’m so sorry- I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable. I was just feeling so overwhelmed. I swear it won’t happen again I-”.

“Steven!”, you exclaim, gaining back his attention, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise”.

His entire body relaxes, “I’m-”, he starts to say, but you interrupt him.

“Steven, if you say I’m sorry one more time I’m going to fling you out that window”, you sigh heavily, “You don’t need to apologize to me”.

‘I should be the one apologizing to you’, you think.

His hand finds one of yours underneath the table, squeezing it gently, urging you to speak this time. He’s always been such a good listener.

You start to open your mouth, planning on telling him everything until your eyes notice the mirror hanging on the wall in front of you. It’s Steven’s reflection, but you can tell it’s not Steven. It’s moving on its own accord, not copying his movements.

Marc?

He shakes his head, clearly upset at the situation, his eyes widening in shock when they meet yours.

A silent conversation passes between you, you can’t tell him.

Steven has to say your name several times to pull you from your trance. He’s looking at you fondly, a bit worried.

“Sorry, I got distracted”, you rip your eyes away from the mirror.

“You were going to tell me something”, he reminds you softly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“Oh”, shit, you can’t tell him what you were going to originally.

You study him for a long moment, how happy he looks with you, how at ease you are with one another, and suddenly your mouth is working of its own accord, “I- I think I’m falling in love with you”. Your eyes widen in shock at your own words, ‘What about Marc?’

“You are?”, he asks.

It doesn’t take long for you to think before you’re answering him, “Yeah, I think so”, you respond, smiling sheepishly, praying that Marc didn’t hear it.

He smiles, leaning closer to you, tentatively pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and sweet just like him. It doesn’t last very long, but you know you’ll remember it.

The next time you glance in the mirror it’s like nothing ever happened.

“How is that even possible?”, you ask, turning to face him.

“Don’t look at me, I don’t know how any of this works. All I know is that no one has ever been able to see me before”, he responds, hands in the air.

“I hate this- keeping things from him”, you change the subject.

“And you think I don’t? It’s for his own good”, he reminds you.

“Is it really? or is it for your convenience Marc?”

He doesn’t respond. He can tell you’re not in the mood for any more of his excuses.

“He’s fine, you’re fine, I’m fine. We’re all fine”, he pauses, “We’ll figure it out later, together, remember?”

“I know you’re right, it’s just stressful”, you pinch the bridge of your nose with your fingers.

“I know, it’ll be okay.”

He stands up, closing the distance between you, placing his hands on your arms, trying to comfort you.

You’re so close that you can feel his breath fan your face again, but this time you don’t move away, “I care about you both”, you remind him.

“I know, we care about you too”.

It was dark when he called you, upset and out of breath. You got to him as fast as you could, “Marc?”

There he was on his knees. He looked defeated, the moon lighting only one side of his face.

“He knows”, he tells you, head hanging low.

There’s a moment of silence, it’s heavy, guilt-ridden.

Marc looks up at you, seeing the silent question in your eyes, “He didn’t take it well”.

You’re angry, you should have convinced him to tell Steven everything from the start.

“No- not you too”, a voice says, coming from the broken mirror.

You and Marc turn to look at it. It’s Steven, now he’s a part of the reflection.

“Steven, everything is going to be-“, you try to reassure him but he doesn’t let you finish, “Bloody hell, no it’s not! I don’t even understand what’s real. I’m stuck in a mirror, and I can barely move”.

You can see Marc tense underneath the low light. It’s as if he’s remembering something awful.

He stands up, walking away from both of you.

“It’s alright, I know it’s strange. Try to take deep breaths”, he says, trying to calm Steven and himself down.

He ignores him, “You know him”, Steven says, his voice filled with hurt, “You’ve been tricking me this entire time! Did you even mean what you said that night?”

“Of course I did!”, you yell, breathing in shakily, tears coming to your eyes.

He ignores you this time, “Am I even real?”, he asks, voice cracking, horrified at the thought.

Your heart breaks for him, he must be so confused.

You don’t answer, you don’t know what to say. You wish you could reassure him, tell him you know why all of this is happening, but you can’t.

“I can’t believe this”, he says, looking between you and Marc, tears filling his eyes too, “I can’t believe that you’ve been with him, helping him this whole time”.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Really? Then what was it like?”, he says, sounding more upset each time he speaks.

“We were protecting you”, Marc tells him, getting closer to the mirror.

“You’re both liars, I don’t believe you. I don’t trust anything you say”, he looks broken, betrayed.

“Stevie, please”, you try.

“My name is Steven”, he says, his voice the harshest you’ve ever heard it.

It’s all too much. You’re starting to have a hard time taking in full breaths and your heart is clenching painfully in your chest.

“That’s enough”, Marc yells, when he realizes how upset you are. You’re full-on sobbing now, tears streaming down your face.

You can tell he’s still talking trying to explain to him why you did what you did, but it’s all muffled, lost in the background.

It takes the shattering of glass to bring you back to the present.

Steven is gone from the mirror; Marc is breathing heavily, his eyes dark.

You move to comfort him, but as soon as you’re within reach he’s pulling you into his arms, hands moving to cup your face.

“I'm so sorry, I should have never brought you into this”, he breathes out, thumbs wiping away the tears that are still falling from your eyes.

“It’s okay, I wanted to help.”

“I could never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me- if you got hurt because of me”, he says. His eyes are begging you to see that he’s telling the truth, that all he wants is to keep you safe.

“I knew what I was getting into”, you remind him, “And I have you”.

You’re extremely close again, noses almost touching.

“You always have”, he tells you, leaning in closer and closer until your lips are ghosting against each other.

And when he finally kisses you it’s full of raw emotion, like he’s trying to convey all of his feelings in just one kiss.

Like he’s saying goodbye.

He leans his forehead against yours, “You have to go”, he says, with no room for argument in his tone, “I’ll find you, I promise”.

“What about Steven?”, you ask softly, “I’m worried about him, I don’t want him to hate me”.

The air around both of you shifts like someone or rather something has joined you. Marc’s eyes dart across the courtyard like they can see something you can’t.

“He doesn’t hate you, trust me. Now go.”

It takes everything in you to turn around and walk away.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or un-tagged down below <3

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[crossbowking]

The Sweetest Thing

Summary: (Set mid-season 6) Daryl reflects on life before the end - before he met you.

Word Count: 1,948

A/N: I'M BACK! I'm so excited to share this with y'all! It's super short, super fluffy, and super sweet (get it...like the title...lolololol) And it's also Daryl's POV! Woo!

Initially, this was going to be heart-wrenching angst, but I decided that we all could use a little lovin', ya know? I've missed y'all so much and hope my muse decides to stay awhile! I do have a few other ideas brewing muahaha!

Anyways, I might be a little rusty as I get back into the swing of writing, so any comments and feedback are greatly appreciated! (Ooh, also, if you'd like to be added to my new tag list, just give me a shout!)

Love y'all!!

xx Jess

Masterlist

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Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

When he was eight years old, he dislocated his shoulder falling out of a rickety, old, oak tree.

He’d scrambled up the gnarled trunk, ignoring the shouts and taunts from other kids who’d chased him into the woods just beyond the schoolyard. He’d found a sturdy branch to cling to as they’d gathered at the bottom, throwing stray rocks and sticks at him, calling him names, laughing amongst themselves until they’d eventually lost interest and wandered back to the playground.

He’d waited for the bell to ring, for classes to resume and the kids to disperse to wherever they belonged — and then he’d begun climbing down. Except he’d misjudged a step and before he knew it, the harsh wooded ground was rushing up to meet him. He’d fallen, hard, on his left side, hearing a distinct popping sound on impact.

He hadn’t bothered to return to school, instead walking the thirty minutes back home, left arm cradled against his chest, sniffling softly as the burning in his shoulder intensified.

When he’d gotten home, he’d found his dad passed out drunk on the sofa, snoring so loudly he didn’t hear his son's cries.

It wasn’t until Merle had stumbled in from the local bar later that night that his shoulder was popped back into place.

When Daryl was sixteen years old, he got into his first motorcycle accident.

He’d spent all summer fixing the bike up, pouring every ounce of his time, energy, and money into the project. Merle was serving in the Marine Corps, his old man’s drinking habits were the worst they’d ever been, and Daryl had felt the sting of his father’s belt buckle one too many times.

He’d thought maybe he’d leave Georgia once and for all — travel across the country and find somewhere to settle down. Maybe he’d open an auto body shop in Montana, buy a nice house near the mountains or deep in the woods. Maybe he’d get a dog to keep him company. If he thought about it long enough, the more it seemed within reach.

He just needed to get there.

So one night in August, Daryl packed a bag and left.

He snuck out around two in the morning, not that anyone would’ve known or cared he was missing, rolled his motorcycle to the end of his street, and took off.

He’d never forget how that felt, the freedom that grew in his chest as he left his shit-hole hometown and every bad thing in it behind. It’d nearly brought tears to his eyes, the idea of starting over, of no one knowing his name, of —

Not even ten miles later, a deer ran out in front of his bike. He’d swerved, lost control, and crashed into a tree along the side of the road.

He never made it past the Georgia state line.

When Daryl was twenty-eight, he fell in love.

Well, maybe not ‘love’, but a dire and desperate attempt to feel something, anything, that wasn’t the all-consuming numbness that’d become so familiar as year after year wore on.

Julie was her name.

She was older – late thirties, early forties – with long, bleached blonde hair and a slyness that Daryl should’ve picked up on sooner. She’d frequented the dive bar he and his brother had spent most nights at, making eyes at him from across the room until one night, she’d finally approached him.

Attention was a foreign concept to Daryl – a woman’s attention, especially. His face had grown haggard with contempt and disappointment over time, a seemingly permanent scowl etched onto his face – and if that wasn’t enough of a turn-off, his sharp tongue sealed the deal. He wasn’t sure when he’d begun to lose himself, when aspects of Merle’s personality had begun to morph into his own, but it was easier to drink away the thought than confront it.

Which had led him to that dive bar, led him to Julie.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that Julie had been using him to get free goods from Merle – but he’d kept that to himself. She’d simply been a distraction, nothing more, nothing less, from the darkness that’d been festering within him since before he could remember.

Their relationship had been surface level at best, but it was more than Daryl had ever had a taste of and he’d clung to it.

A few weeks later, he’d found Merle and Julie in bed together.

She’d offered a half-assed apology – though made no move to unwind herself from around his brother’s body – while Merle, on the other hand, had shot him a shit-eating grin and shrugged. “A man’s gotta eat,” he’d jeered, the indifference in his tone turning the younger brother’s vision red.

His knuckles were bruised and bloody for days after that.

Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

He’d been dealt traumas that most people could never understand, would never understand. For the longest time, he’d wondered what he’d done to deserve the life he’d been given. Maybe he’d been a sinner in another lifetime, and this was his punishment – to merely exist, day in and day out with no real purpose, no meaning, with nothing more to his name than the scars he’d bear.

But then the world ended.

And, oddly enough, his life began.

“Hey, you okay?” came a sudden voice.

Daryl snapped out of his reverie, not having realized he’d zoned out to begin with. “Hm?” he murmured, blinking away the daze.

You came into focus then, watching him curiously, your brow furrowed. “You disappeared on me there for a second,” you pointed out gently, the corner of your mouth quirking.

Daryl felt his gaze flicker down towards your lips before he refocused his attention straight ahead, ignoring the heat rushing to the tips of his ears. He quickly cleared his throat, ducking his head down. “M’ here,” he rumbled, sneaking another glance at you from beneath the hair that fell across his face.

You smiled sweetly and the archer felt his stomach flip-flop as you reached towards him and brushed the strands away. “Good – try to keep it that way,” you teased, pulling away a moment later.

The archer tried to ignore the prickling beneath his skin where your fingers had grazed — like every nerve-ending had been set aflame.

“So, what’d you think?” you asked then, crossing your arms over your chest and staring down at the map splayed out between you.

Daryl redirected his attention, reaching down and smoothing out the creases that’d formed along the page. He laid his palms flat on the table, drumming his fingers as he focused on the task at hand. With Rick now running Alexandria, he’d wanted to take every precaution possible in case the community was to fall – having a backup location that was safe, secure, and well-stocked was integral. “There,” he rasped after a moment, jabbing his finger towards the shoreline. “Head east, comb the shore, see what we can see.”

You hummed softly in approval. “That’s what I was thinking,” you murmured, shifting forward and resting your hands beside his, squinting slightly as you examined where he’d pointed. “We could find a boat, fix it up,” you mused. “Maybe catch some lobster for dinner,” you glanced over at him, waggling your eyebrows.

Daryl scoffed as he straightened. “Churn some butter while we’re a’ it,” he huffed, fighting back a smile.

You laughed, his comment catching you by surprise. “Don’t act like I won’t hold you to that, Dixon,” you grinned, leaning back against the table and facing him straight on.

“Mhm,” he rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his worn jeans, rocking back and forth on his heels.

You held his gaze a moment longer, something warm flashing over your face before you pushed away from the table. “Alright, I’ll update Rick and get a group together – head out in twenty?”

Daryl grunted softly in response, suddenly unable to find his voice.

“Okay, see you in a bit,” you smiled warmly, reaching out and patting the archer’s chest affectionately as you began to move past him.

But before your hand could slip away, Daryl covered it with his own and held it in place, faltering your momentum.

You shifted, turning back towards him, a puzzled look in your gaze.

“I jus’ –” he rasped, shaking his head as he ducked his head down, searching for the right words. He brushed his thumb against yours, back and forth, grounding himself, before he focused back on you.

You simply nodded, giving him the space to continue.

He cleared his throat, feeling it tighten as he forced himself to let go of a lifetime's worth of conditioned self-consciousness. He inhaled a deep breath, regarding you earnestly. “You're jus’ so damn beautiful, ya know that?” he finally mustered, his words rumbling against your intertwined hands, still pressed against his chest.

You appeared taken aback for a moment like you were wondering if you’d misheard him, or he’d misspoken. But when he merely held your stare, your features softened. “Oh,” you whispered gently.

A beat passed between you before your face lit up and you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him and sighing a long and heavy exhale.

Daryl welcomed the embrace, one arm snaking around your waist, his other hand moving to cradle the back of your head before he tightened his hold on you. His eyes closed as he breathed in the moment, committing the feeling to memory. You melted against him, nestling closer, fitting so perfectly it was as though you’d been crafted to from the very start.

When you pulled back, he couldn’t help but ache for you in the spaces you’d filled.

But then he opened his eyes and noticed the emotion that’d filled yours.

You sniffled softly, quickly swiping at a tear that’d slipped down your cheek as a hitched laugh pushed past your lips. “Now look at what you did,” you murmured playfully, almost bashfully.

Daryl snorted a breath, placing his hand against the side of your neck and using his thumb to brush away the trail of moisture left behind on your cheek. You laid your hand on top of his, leaning into his touch.

Neither of you moved for a long moment, simply breathing the other in before a small smile tugged at your lips. You shifted in his grasp, pressing a gentle kiss against his palm. “We should probably get going,” you sighed, the archer nodding once despite every fiber of his being screaming otherwise.

“Alright,” he rasped, balling his hands into fists and shoving them back into his pockets, ignoring the slight trembling in his fingertips.

“Alright,” you reiterated, a bounce in your step as you turned to leave. “Meet you at the gate?” you called from over your shoulder, yanking open the front door.

Daryl nodded once more, flicking the hair away from his face. “Mhm,” he rumbled, his voice once again lost.

“Cool,” you grinned, sending him a small wave before you slipped out, closing the door softly behind you without another word.

Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

But you…

You were medicine to the sick, solace to the dying, strength to the weak. You’d crawled your way beneath his skin and called it ‘home’. You were everything he needed and nothing he deserved, and God damn it, he’d live this hellish life a thousand times over if it meant finding you.

Daryl Dixon was no stranger to pain.

But he’d shoulder the weight of the world’s suffering for you.

The sweet relief of you.

Fin.

A/N: Ugh, so cute it makes me sick :')))))) lmao hope y'all enjoyed!

By the way, did anyone see the new trailer??? I'M FREAKING.

I'm hoping to have another story out to y'all soon, so stay tuned! I'd like to shoot for a 3/4 parter, but we'll see what happens!

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