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tqmies · 2 years ago

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Love Guard | Lee Chan

Description. Lifeguard Lee Chan is a pain in your ass, and you swear he's only picked up this job to ogle at girls in bikinis. Little did you know, the only girl he wants to look at is you — not that you'd ever let him tell you that though — Especially now that you're convinced he's in love with your co-worker.

Pairing. Lifeguard!Lee Chan x Lifeguard! Fem Reader

Warnings. Curse words, (Pretend) Drowning, Karina attempts to meddle, Fluff, Chan's so whipped, Swimming, E2L (One sided)

Word count. 9.2k (Oops?)

Note: Summer has been over but I couldn't help myself! Welcome to my first Seventeen fic! Not 100% sure if I like this one but feedback is always appreciated!

"Two weeks." You repeat to yourself, attempting to calm yourself by digging your fingers into the squishy material of the rescue tube you have strapped on. Only two weeks left until the local waterpark is closed for the year — and until you have to look for another job — but the point remains a positive one.

In exactly two weeks from now, you will be freed from your own personal hell in human form, otherwise known as Lee Chan. Even when he's not stationed at the same ride as you, he's always finding his way over in your general proximity, just like he is now.

He's chatting up a few girls who look gorgeous in their tight fighting bikini sets, and you just about scoff at how obvious he is. You and Karina are set at the wave pool right now, and you feel bad for whatever station Chan is supposed to be manning. Does he ever do his job?

Karina quirks her head, her long ponytail falling to her side. "I heard he was supposed to be with the flow rider."

Ah yes the flow rider, the stationary surfing machine that tiny children and older adults alike swear they can do. You've only had to operate it once, and let's just say you complained so much you never had to do it again. Just this once, you can understand why he wandered over to the other side of the park.

"Vernon probably took over and kicked him out." You shrug, knowing how serious the older male takes his job.

"I hope so." Your friend giggles, patting your shoulder as she walks away. You notice her hand on the whistle, she must've spotted a few kids running again, nothing out of the ordinary.

A few feet away, Chan is just about whining into these poor girls ears. He smirks at them. “Is she looking this way?”

The girl on his left — whose name Chan hasn't caught — glances over her shoulder and then turns back. “She’s not, she’s watching the pool.”

One of the other girls snorts. “Looks like she’s doing her job.”

"That makes one of us." Chan slumps dramatically before an idea pops into his head. (The girls swear they could see a lightbulb above his head in that moment).

Chan swivels into the water after he stood to his feet, the others awaiting his revelation. "Okay, I'm going to need one of you to pretend you're drowning."

"Drowning?!" The blonde girl's jaw drops. Chan doesn't see why he has to explain it though. They would simply pretend they were drowning, he'd jump in all heroic like, and save them. And in the process, you'd notice and commend him for being so cool.

Chan was a genius, he nodded to himself.

So after explaining the plan to girl's that he had just met today, well about twenty minutes ago, he's ready to get this show on the road. He's lucky the girls felt bad for him after he gave the typical sob story on how his crush hated him. Otherwise, they probably wouldn't have agreed.

The blonde girl submerges herself into the water, on purpose, as Chan prepares to take action. But first, he had to take his shirt off. Oh don't act so shocked, he's literally trying to get your attention! He's not above showing a little skin!

You don't even notice though, too preoccupied with watching some children jump on each other. You approach them and politely tell them to not attempt to kill each other under the water. You didn't even think that needs to be said but, this job surprised you every day.

However, the minute you turn around, you notice some arm's flailing around in the water. It was the area where Chan was just standing, but he's nowhere to be found now. Shit! You were going to have to act, and fast!

So you dive into the water, peeling your eyes open in the chlorine to find the girl. You reach her in record time, using your rescue buoy to grab her and pull her out. You lay her on the concrete, shaking her shoulders and gaining no response.

"Someone get me an AED!" You shout, preparing to begin CPR. Karina rushes to your side, asking any bystanders if they knew what happened and trying to gain more information about the situation. Thank goodness for her.

A crowd begins to form around you as you recall the CPR process in your head, ready to begin when you're abruptly shoved out of the way.

"I got it!" Chan explains, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You're too stunned to reply so you just let him take the lead, watching his next moves in silence.

He barely starts to push on her chest when her eyes shoot open, and she begins coughing up imaginary water. You're a bit suspicious, but this was your first time dealing with an unconscious victim, guess you'd just been lucky so far.

She sits up as she starts talking, waving her hands around. "Don't call 9-1-1 or anything! I'm fine!"

Karina leans forward. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" The girl replies, before easily standing to her feet as she rushes out, her friends following behind her. They didn't even have their shoes on?

Chan watches them in defeat as you and Karina silently gape at each other. The girl had run away steadily, no signs of being disoriented for someone who had just been unconscious. It did all happen so fast though, maybe you weren't seeing things right.

Karina is the first to stand. "What just happened?"

You shake your head, your now wet hair dripping on you. "I don't even know."

Chan doesn't look as confused as you two though, but never mind that, you had a bone to pick with him first.

"And where the hell were you?"

Chan barely registers you speaking to him, as he's mentally recounting how his plan went awry. "I was getting my CPR keychain."

You want to bang your head against the ground. "You didn't have it on you?"

Hey, give him a break. He's human too! He forgets things sometimes, it can't be that bad! However, if he was going to convincingly look like he was saving the girl earlier, he had to have his keychain on him. Which is why he ran off looking for it...

"I left it in my locker." He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

"God, just put a shirt on Lee." You stand to your feet. "And please do us all a favor and stay in your station."

"So you acknowledge that you checked me out?"

You deadpan. "I acknowledge that you make my job harder because an old woman almost slipped on the shirt you threw off!"

Had he really thrown his shirt? He didn't even notice, your wording had to be a bit exaggerated.

You cross your arms as you head back to the other side of the pool, back into your comfy life guard chair. And preferably, as far away from Lee Chan as possible.

"Then he shows up like some fucking hero and interferes with me doing my job!" You state sarcastically, slipping your sweatshirt on as you stand by your locker. Screwing the cap back onto your water bottle, you sigh.

Minghao, your close friend who you never managed to get stationed with, just listens in mild amusement. "But he saved the girl, right?"

You shake your head as you gather your things. "I don't know if you could call it saving. It was weird, she just up and ran off."

Minghao giggles. "Are you sure she was drowning?"

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say no." You admit, the jingling of a lanyard behind you catching your attention.

"Okay, I'm heading out." Karina says as she holds her bag over her shoulders. Your brain is too busy trying to configure how she looks so cute after a full day at work. You were sure you looked as worn-out as you felt.

"MIngyu's still around here somewhere. And Seungkwan and Chan are still in the back, I saw them fighting with the pool nets." Karina continues, referring to the long wands used to skim the pools for bugs and dirt. Or worse, fecal matter.

Thankfully, that's usually not the case. Nevertheless, you're grateful that wasn't your job today. You did have to lock up though, meaning that you had to get the aforementioned boys up and out.

"I'll get Minghao to yell at them." You nod, and Minghao just laughs.

Back at the pool, Chan is currently shuffling his brain for another plan, one that won't fail this time. Honestly, it probably made you more angry at him than anything. "I have two weeks Kwan."

Seungkwan rolls his eyes. "Oh God."

"Two weeks to make her mine." Chan repeats, rubbing his eyes.

"You're delusional." His friend replies, picking up his own pool stick and heading to the main area. "Why don't you start with something simple, like driving her home first."

Chan perks up at that. "Wait, that's actually a pretty good idea!"

"Actually?" Seungkwan starts, but Chan is already racing past him, pool cleaning long forgotten. Though the older male still shouts after him. "I always have great ideas!"

Chan mentally prepares himself on the way there, stopping by one of the outside mirrors in the kids splash area to check his hair. Looking good, he thought.

"Hey," Chan speaks, approaching you and Minghao as he tries not to give the latter a death stare. He could never figure out what kind of relationship the two of you had, and that made him uneasy. Not that you owed him an explanation or anything, but it'd be nice to get some clarification.

All he knew was that you and Minghao applied for this job together and you'd been friends for a while. Chan also knew you spent your lunch breaks together at the snack bar, courtesy of his friend Mingyu's spying, and he knew he took you home everyday.

But those could all just be friendly gestures, right?

You ignore Chan's presence as you turn to close up your locker, not bothering to acknowledge him. Minghao does though, "You heading home?"

"Yeah, actually." Chan responds, eyes never leaving your figure. He calls out your name, to which you roll your eyes to. "What?"

He stands up straight, slightly puffing his chest out in an attempt to appeal more to you. Was it working? Probably...Not. "Can I drive you home?"

"Not a chance." You shoot down immediately, not a hint of hesitance in your voice. Oh, that was fast. But Chan knew this wasn't gonna be easy after all.

"I'll buy you food on the way." He offers, clinging to his last ounce of self respect before he gets on the floor to start begging. He was not above that when it came to you.

You cross your arms. "Are you insinuating that I can't buy my own food?"

Of course things were going this way, "That's not what I-"

You put a hand up to stop him, smirking. "Because you're right, this stupid job doesn't pay me nearly as much as I'd like."

Chan stays quiet, unsure of what to say next. Luckily, you continue for him, all in a condescending tone though. "Whatever Lee. Even though you're probably doing this just to feel better about yourself for being such an asshole all the time, I'll bite."

Minghao grimaces, had you always been this harsh? Well, he knows the younger male did you piss you off more than usual today. He knows in his rational brain that he probably shouldn't let this happen. But will he? Yeah.

Minghao gently grabs your arm. "Call me when you get home, okay?"

"Of course." You reply, and Chan watches you flash a smile reserved for your friends only. He knows that because never once had you directed that smile at him. This was soon to change, or so help him.

"You can go ahead, I'll get 'Kwan and lock up." Minghao nods and you thank him.

Chan's just about losing his mind though, Minghao was on a nickname basis with Seungkwan? What the hell? Did Seungkwan not know that Minghao was enemy number one ?! He had some words for him later.

Right now though, his main focus was you. Even in the horrible florescent lighting of the locker room, he thought you looked beautiful.

You, on the other hand, were getting the ick from seeing Kim Mingyu walk around with flip flops. That was going to be hard to move on from.

Just to be clear, you really weren't interested in relationships right now. And yes, you and Minghao were just friends, strictly platonic. However, with on slow days, you liked to occupy yourself with staring at Mingyu's prominent muscles. And honestly, who could blame you?

Chan redirects your attention to him. "So, where to?"

You roll your eyes. "You were the one who invited me out, and you don't know where we're going?"

He looks down. "McDonalds?"

So that's how you two end up in the drive-thru of the famous golden arches. Chan has a million thoughts running through his head, the main one being how he managed to get you in his car, willingly!

In another universe, Chan imagined that this would be your first date. He'd make you laugh, hold your hand, and maybe even get a kiss at the end of the night.

"Should I get a Coke or a Sprite?" You speak to yourself, pulling Chan out of his thoughts.

He straightens his posture. "Oh you should-"

"I wasn't actually asking." You roll your eyes, already mentally having decided in your head.

Chan shuts his mouth.

"You know, I'm really interested in hearing why you invited me out of a sudden." You say, leaning your head against his car window.

Chan's scrambling for the words. "I just wanted to talk."

"About?"

Chan breathes in, here goes nothing. "Well, we only have a few weeks left working at the park, and I kind of.. like this girl."

You narrow your eyes, knowing where this was going. "Oh lord, did you really drag me all this way to try to get me to set you up with Karina?"

Chan's eyes widen. What?! How did you get to that conclusion. Chan barely knew the other girl, much less liked her. In all honesty, he barely even paid her any mind, always too preoccupied with staring at you by her side. He rushes to deny it. "No-"

"You don't have to lie." You speak, rolling your eyes. "You took me here on a bribe so I could put in a good word with you."

Chan's so confused right now.

"Sorry but I think Karina's worth more than whatever you're getting me on the dollar menu." You spout sarcastically. "And anyways, why would I help set her up with you?"

Now, Chan has to speak up, because really? Was he that bad that you couldn't even imagine setting him up with a friend ? He's mildly offended, even if he could care less about her. It's more so that he's utterly infatuated with you, and he can't believe you don't see him as possible boyfriend material. "Huh? What's wrong with me?"

You narrow your eyes. "Well, for starters you're broke, lazy, and irresponsible. Oh, and stupid, immature, full of yourself-"

You were really laying it on thick, and Chan doesn't think he can take anymore stabs at his character without possibly jumping out of his car window. He interrupts, "Anything else?"

"I wasn't even done yet." You stop counting on your fingers. "Point is, you're not good enough for Karina."

He doesn't even care about who you're talking about anymore, he throws his hands up. "You don't even know that, you've never seen me on a date." Because you've never given me a chance, but he only speaks that last part in his head.

"I've seen your everyday character, that says more than enough."

Chans on the verge of ramming the car in front of him in line. "So what kind of guy would be good enough?"

You shrug. "Probably someone like Joshua."

"The manager?" Chan draws back, because were you referring to Karina's taste or yours? He was so lost right now. "He's like way too old."

You click your tongue. "I said someone like him. He's smart, soft-spoke, responsible, and he knows how to deal with conflict."

Chan grips his steering wheel. Yes, Joshua had his life together, but that's because he was older! Was that really what you were into? Chan might as well throw in the towel now. "It sounds like you want someone like Joshua."

"Maybe, I don't know."" You cross your arms in thought. "Well, he's kind of boring, can't be much fun dating someone like that."

So there is a drawback to perfectly stunning men like Joshua, or was he just saying that to make himself feel better? He'd have to ask Seungkwan for advice tomorrow. "Well-"

"Whenever you're ready." A voice takes over through the intercom. Chan hadn't realized he had already pulled up this far.

He didn't even know what he wanted, in fact this whole conversation made his stomach turn. Was he even hungry anymore?

However, you knew exactly what you wanted. But Chan's silent by the intercom so you do the only feasible thing to do, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over him. Climbing past the center console, you throw your body halfway out of the window and start reciting your order.

Unbeknownst to you, the male in the car with you was losing his mind. Why were you so close to him? Why did you smell so good? Why was your body basically on top of his (You aren't touching at all)? And Why did this feel so intimate?

You turn to him, still in the same position. "What do you want?"

Chan's face is red, and he's trying his best to stay cool, avoiding eye contact. "A burger."

"Which one?"

Poor guy can't think straight. "The normal one?"

You sigh, turning back towards the speaker. "And a Big Mac."

"I think Chan likes you." You speak, seeking refuge from the scorching hot summer sun under the tiny roof peeking out from the food stand.

Karina sips on her slushie, that's halfway melted, and grimaces. "No way."

You offer a tight lipped smile before shooting her glare. "Don't give me that look! Who wouldn't like you?"

Karina laughs. "It's not that I don't think he'd like me, it's that he doesn't."

"And how are you so sure?" You ask, adjusting the straw on your own slushie.

"Um, okay one, he's never held a conversation with me for longer than two minutes." She starts, placing her cup on the counter. Trying her best to stop the syrup from getting her hands all sticky.

You digress though. "That's because you make him nervous!"

"Two, we barely know each other."

"You haven't given him a chance." You tease, unaware of prying ears listening to your conversation. Give you a break though, honestly, it was too hot for all of this.

"Where did you even get this idea from?" She inquires in disbelief.

"Last night when he took me to McDonalds."

Karina's jaw goes slack. "You voluntarily went somewhere with him outside of work?"

Guess you had forgotten to mention that, oops. "He bribed me with food."

She narrows her eyes, suspicious but moving on anyways. "And then he told you he liked me?"

"No," You answer truthfully. "But he didn't deny it."

Karina shakes her head. "I think you're just desperate for some cute lifeguard-love-story to shake things up around here, and it's not going to work on me."

You giggle. "Whatever you say."

"You could have your own story if you just asked out Minghao already." She suggests meekly, despite knowing your constant insistence that there was nothing going on between you two.

"That's gross, I think I just threw up in my mouth."

"Yeah, I know." She teases before lowering her voice so only you can hear, and her eyes dart over to Mingyu making a hot dog. "But you could finally strike something up with mister beef cake over here."

You roll your eyes. "He's too hot for me, half the park wants him."

"He gives you free food."

You hush your friend. "He gives everyone free food!"

"You win this battle." Karina says, trashing her finished cherry drink. "But the war is far from over."

"Get back to your post, Yoo." You sigh, cleaning up the mess your melting treats made with a few napkins and discarding them.

Mingyu comes back to the front where you are after noticing you were alone, "Going back?"

You groan. "Unfortunately my break is over."

He offers a small chuckle, and all you think about is how good he looks. Especially since he's donning a sleeveless red shirt, matching the parks general colors, and you can see his arms in their full glory. No wonder you'd heard girls in passing giggle about how they wanted to take a bite out of the food stand guy, you saw the appeal.

Why couldn't he be a lifeguard? Just saying, it would be nice to see him without a pesky shirt sometimes. Oh you were so embarrassing.

"Have you seen Hao? I wanted to talk to him about something?" The male inquires but you shake your head.

"He called in today," You stand. "Said he felt sick, or some other kind of lie."

"He's not sick?"

"Judging by his Instagram stories on a boat?" You quirk your head. "I'd say no."

MIngyu laughs at your humor, and you're flashing that pretty smile again, and Mingyu's feeding right into it. Are you two flirting?!

Chan hates it!

Not your smile, no he could never hate your smile. But he hates how he's never once gotten to see it aimed at him. Yet here you were, chatting it up with Mingyu? Did the nuggets he bought you last night mean nothing? He thought they were a great symbol of his undying love for you!

Vernon looks unimpressed. "Stare at him any longer and you might just burn a hole through him."

Chan narrows. "That's the plan"

Vernon's bored. "Okay, this is getting weird."

"I just don't get it, what does she even see in guys like Joshua? Or Mingyu?" Chan crosses his arms.

"Maybe because they do their job-" Vernon tries to get his station partners attention back.

But Chan's having none of it. "Yeah right, look at Mingyu! He's flirting on duty!"

"He just runs the food stand, in his defense. Half the time isn't he helping you spy on her and Minghao?"

"Well it seems like he's playing for the other team right now, standing there and talking to my girl!"

"Your girl." Vernon repeats, shaking his head in disbelief as he mocks the younger male. "You're ridiculous."

Chan stays rooted in his place. "I can't even believe-"

"Hey, Chan right?" A voice plucks him out of his plotting to kill Mingyu (Okay, maybe killing was extreme, but at the very least he was going to jump him. Eh, that might be a little too much as well, he was still technically Chan's friend. Maybe he could-)

Oh wait, someone was talking to him, and he should probably respond. "Yeah that's me."

"Oh, well I'm Karina." The girl introduces herself as Chan finally gets to take a look at her. He knew who she was, everyone did, but the two had rarely a few words to each other before now, if anything.

He adjusts his sunglasses, eyes barely moving from you and Mingyu. He had to make sure Mingyu didn't try anything. This was a matter of national security! "Nice to meet you, I guess"

"What's up Karina?" Vernon asks, trying to break up this weird tension as he saw how Chan effectively ignored you.

Karina places her hand on her hip. "I'll just be straight forward, someone told me that Chan had a little thing for me, but I know that's not the case, even though she's entirely convinced."

Chan's irritated. "What?"

"I'm not blind, Chan." Karina raises a brow. "I know you have a crush on her."

"Well yeah, could he be more obvious?" Vernon snidely remarks as Chan does his best to ignore his comment.

"So," Chan looks down, slightly dissapointed. "Did you come just to make fun of me?"

"No," She leans forward. "I've decided I'm gonna help you."

"Help?" Chan's taken back as he snaps his head up.

"Help?" Vernon parrots, though he sounds more confused.

She smiles. "Yup"

"Why?"

Karina stares at her perfectly manicured nails. "You're a decent guy. Good looking, nice enough, and I know you're trying your best."

Chan blinks, this was the complete opposite of what you had told him. Karina continues, "But mostly, it's because I can tell you really like her. And I think she deserves someone that'll treat her well for once."

"Well give it up," Chan sighs, wiping sweat from his brow. "Mingyu's about to propose to her anyways."

"Mingyu's not doing anything," Karina moves her hair. "He been standing there like a dweeb the whole time, completely oblivious to everyone around him."

"And she still likes him more than me."

Your friend glares at the male. "Well this isn't going to work if you're going to be so negative."

"Karina," He turns to her. "Honestly, what's the point? She wants nothing to do with me."

"Because she's blind, she can't see how much you like her."

"So, what should we do?" Vernon pipes in, surprisingly intently following the situation.

"We have to prove to her how much you like her!"

"And how can I do that?"

"Don't worry, I have that part covered."

...

"And then he threw up right next to the trashcan." Jeonghan — one of the new hires — finishes venting to you about one of the kids on the waterslide he was manning.

"Swear there should be some kind of law forbidding kids from eating four hotdogs and then getting on a ride that sends you spinning." You sympathize.

"Or people could just have more common sense." Jeonghan comments, before his eyes drift off somewhere else. "Is that Karina talking to Chan?"

Your eyes widen as you try to follow his line of sight. "What? Where?"

"Over there." Jeonghan points with his head, towards the bathrooms.

Sure enough, leaning on the bricks outside the bathrooms, was your friend talking to Lee Chan. Had he finally gained the courage to talk to her? And oh no, was she actually reciprocating?

"I didn't know they were friends." Jeonghan breaks the silence.

"They're not." You raise a brow. "I think he likes her."

Jeonghan looks at you like you've grown three heads. "You're joking right?"

You shrug, "Why would I be joking?"

"Everyone knows that he-" Your friend stops himself before waving you off. "Never mind, you wouldn't believe me anyways."

"Believe what?"

Jeonghan snickers. "Nothing."

You're eager to press on more about whatever he was talking about but the manager, Joshua, asks if you and Jeonghan can get showered already so you can all head out.

By the bathrooms, Chan's about to start throwing a fit. "She looked over here once!"

Karina pats his shoulder lightly. "We'll get her next time. For now, I'll just have to feed her a great narrative of you until she realizes she wants you for herself."

Chan looks down. "This is hopeless."

"Holy shit, where is Chan?" Minghao complains, but you show no sympathy as he was seemingly having the time of his life yesterday.

You shrug, adjusting the strap of the bathing suit you had just put on. "Don't know, don't care."

Your friend tsks. "At least we get out early today."

You shake your head. "Doesn't matter, Joshua's forcing us into that work bonding thing."

MInghao groans, resting his forehead against the steel locker. "I forgot about that, what's the point again? We've had plenty of time to bond already."

"It's mandatory if we want that last paycheck." You remind him and he sighs.

He grabs a bottle from his locker and uncaps it. "Can you put sunscreen on me?"

You nod, it was a normal occurrence, and usually no one batted an eye. Even as you rubbed it into his face, too close for it to be considered just friendly, you know it's all platonic.

Chan on the other hand, isn't so sure.

Him and Karina were walking up the gravel path and the scene hits him before he walks into the area. "H-He's rubbing sunscreen on her back!"

Karina tries to calm him. "They do that for each other all the time."

"Then why does it look so romantic!"

"You're overthinking!"

"Seungkwan rubs my sunscreen in! Why don't you do it for her?!"

"I always get here late!" She defends. "Anyways, this isn't about me, we need to get in there!"

You're instantly drawn to Karina and Chan loudly entering, and it seems the two have gotten close over the past few days.

"Hey guys," Minghao greets and they offer him a hello back before opening their lockers.

"Chan," Karina speaks louder than her normal volume as to draw your attention. "Could you help me put on sunscreen? Can't reach my back today."

Chan nods, grabbing the bottle from her hands and slowly helping her rub it in. He wants to make sure you looking too, and how he's one hundred percent sure he can do it better than Minghao can.

"Uh Rina," You speak before you all head out.

"Yes?" She responds, hoping for you to say something about Chan.

"You have a couple white streaks on your back." And you grimace at Chan's poor job of doing something as simple as rubbing sunscreen in. "Do you want me to-"

"No! No," Karina laughs at her outburst. "Um, I'm sure Chan can help me fix it."

You almost flinch.

"Right, Chan?" Your friend grits her teeth so the male could take the hint.

"Oh, right!" He catches on and then vigorously continues to rub the cream into her skin. He's a little too aggressive with it.

"Ow- um, okay!" She lets out. "I think I'm good now."

You stop, "Okay..."

Chan scurries off, and he realizes he actually needs to get his own swim trunks on, and for heavens sake, where is his first aid whistle?!

You two walk away, you picking at your nails as you dread the day ahead. Your friend needs to break the silence. "So, you're staying today?"

"I wish I had a choice." You grovel.

"I feel you."

You catch the time on one of the parks various clocks. "We open in five."

Your partner nods at the reminder, continuing to with you just out of the sight of the boys and any other listeners. "So, what do you think of Chan? Isn't he sweet?"

You're taken aback. "Is this you trying to get my approval?"

"No.."

"Because you could do way better."

She almost stops in her tracks. "What?! But Chan has lots of redeeming qualities."

You feel like this is a prank. "Like?"

"Well he's nice, a good listener, and-"

"Oh, you got it bad." You interrupt.

She's about to start swinging. "No, you know he's not my type."

You frown. "So you're leading him on?"

Karina deadpans. "We're just friends, but all I'm saying is, uh, he's not a bad guy!"

You almost stop walking. "Right..."

She speaks again, trying her best not to seem pushy. "You know, I think the two of you have a lot in common, you could be good friends."

Before you can even respond, someone is yelling your name across the park, and its too early in the morning for that.

Though your face softens when you realize its Mingyu beckoning you over. You tell Karina you'll meet her at your station and separate. She was acting kind of odd anyhow.

"Mingyu," You approach him, the shade now concealing your face as you take a seat on one of the chairs. You try to keep your eyes from wandering, mainly to his exposed arms. "What's up?"

He smiles' bashfully, leaning on the counter. "Well, I've been wanting to ask you this for some time,"

You can sense he's a little nervous, so you nod your head. "What is it?"

"Could I maybe..." He trails again, before closing his eyes in mental preparation. "Have Karina's number?"

You gape like a fish out of water, doing your best to conceal your light disappointment. "K-Karinas number?"

"Well yeah, I'm interested in her. Unless she's seeing someone." He stumbles on his words.

You tilt your head. "Not sure, maybe you should ask Chan."

"Chan?" Mingyu almost laughs. "He doesn't like her like that."

You grimace at that. Had Chan been telling everyone that he didn't like Karina, when clearly he had been acting the opposite? Sure, she didn't like him back but, for him to be saying things like that was a low blow. "Did he tell you that?"

"Huh, what?" Mingyu looks confused. "Well, not directly. Though, It wouldn't make sense because he already likes someone."

You wave him off. "Doesn't matter, either way, you should ask her yourself. I really can't give you her number on my behalf." You explain, feeling kind of bad, but keeping a peppy voice.

"You think she'd give it to me?"

You smile. "You'll never know if you don't try."

Watching, once again, a few feet await is Lee Chan. He's using all his self control not to rip the foam tube in his hands apart, but Vernon brings him back to earth, or more like back to helping him tie up the obstacle course in one of the pools.

Even as he's experiencing red-hot jealously from watching you interact with his friend, he can't help but admire how pretty you were. You somehow managed to make that stupid visor look cute. And trust me, Chan thought no one could make that hat look cute.

If Chan was anyone else, he probably would've given up on his painful crush by now, but Chan wasn't anyone. He's not sure where his liking for you started, maybe it was that first day you joined. Looking all pretty as you stood next to Minghao and introduced yourself. Chan had overheard from Joshua that you had impressive swim skills, and you had a crazy dedication for your job.

It was a few weeks before he even got to interact with you. You were pretty much attached at your friends hip, taking a minute to warm up to the others. You had gotten partnered with Karina for a ride once and she helped you get along with the rest of the staff pretty well.

That's not how you first knew of Chan though.

No, that was a while later. One hot day a few years ago, when Chan was still scrawny and more awkward with girls. He had finally had a chance to grab a slushie, opting for the purple mystery flavor that rested in the machines. (Chan thinks it was a result of a machine that hadn't been cleaned, so it really just tasted like a mixture of all the flavors.) Anyways, he happened to be in a hurry due to him chatting with Mingyu for well over his break.

Which meant he booked it to the other side of the park.

Which consequentially meant that he wasn't watching where he was going. This meant that his slushie met an unfortunate end on your lifeguard bathing suit. And all over the floor.

Now, you were testing patience at the time. This was a new job, plus it was an accident, you could forgive the guy. You also didn't mind that he was pretty cute.

That was until he ran.

Look, in Chan's defense, you made him so nervous. You were so much prettier up close! He stood there frozen for a few minutes, stuttering and thinking of ways to apologize. So he did the only viable thing to do, he ran to the bathrooms to fetch napkins!

Only, he didn't say a word so you thought he literally just ran off to avoid conflict - which wasn't even happening in the first place!

After that, you dubbed Lee Chan someone to avoid. He obviously left you in a mean spirited haste, a deep purple stain blotched all on the front of your uniform. You figured he had a good laugh about it too!

Chan regrets it everyday, why didn't he just act like a normal human?! Why did he have to make things harder for himself?!

By the time Chan had returned, you were long gone. You had ran to the bathroom on the verge of tears, basically abandoning your post and leaving Minghao to run after you.

So if anyone asked, you'd say that your distaste for Lee Chan was completely valid.

...

"Great work today team." Joshua addresses you all, clapping his hands together before placing them on his hips. "I'm really proud of you all today."

"Which is why you should let us go home." Jeonghan pipes up from behind you in the cluster of a group, smiling hopefully.

Joshua laughs sarcastically. "But then you'd miss all the fun!"

The smile dies on Jeonghans face as Joshua starts recanting the same little group seminar tips he gave last year. And the year before that.

Then he waves a hand out. "I've noticed that there's been some tension on the team lately, so we're going to heal that with some bonding time!"

Karina stiffens beside you, leaning in to whisper. "I'm already bored."

You giggle a bit as Joshua starts pairing up teams for an obstacle course through the park. Normally, you wouldn't care, that was until Joshua cited a twenty five dollar Starbucks gift card awarded to the winner. Oh, he had your attention now.

"Karina, I know you don't talk to Jeonghan a lot so you're with him!" Joshua says esthetically, while you sigh at losing two possible partners. Well, there was still Hao.

"Minghao and Vernon."

Well there goes that.

You finally are graced with the call of your name but are immediately shot back down to earth when the accompanying name leaves your managers lips. "..And Chan."

You immediately step up in protest. "Are we allowed to switch partners?"

Chan frowns but regains a bit of hope as Joshua shakes his head. "Nope, sorry but I have to be firm with this. In fact, you two are the tension I was referring to earlier."

"Are you kidding?"

Joshua narrows his eyes, gripping his clipboard. "Do I look like I'm kidding?"

"Joshua, with all due respect, there is no tension! It's just Chan being an idiot!" You complain, widening your eyes.

Ouch, Chan thinks. That went straight to his ego.

Though your boss stands his ground. "I would just like you two to work together for once."

You scoff, muttering a string of curses under your breath which Joshua pretends not to hear, Chan does as well. For the sake of his pride.

Your manager finishes reading the names off of the paper and announces the commencement of the challenge, which you could be less than excited about.

"For this activity, one of you is going to be blindfolded. This will help strengthen the trust you two have in each other."

Trust? You and Chan just looked at each other after you were handed the blindfold. You didn't even know what the objective of the game was yet.

"Part of this activity is deciding who will be blindfolded amongst yourselves." Joshua continues, rubbing salt into the wound.

"Well-" You begin, about to start arguing when Chan holds his hand out. He can see that you're definitely uncomfortable with the idea.

"I'll be blindfolded." He states.

"What?" He wasn't even going to fight you on it? "Really?"

He shrugs, trying to will his face from not turning red. "I trust you."

You blankly stare for a minute, trying to read a hint of humor or anything of that sort in his eyes. But you come up empty, his expression dead serious. You just handed him the blindfold, leaving him to fend for himself as he tied it around his eyes.

What did he mean he trusted you?

Karina finishes tying Jeonghan's when she turns back to your boss. "Now what?"

"You're going to lead them through the water course," Joshua smiles, although it seems a bit mischievous. He had to be getting a kick out of this. "The ones that come out first, and the most dry, win."

You gape, you were supposed to lead this grown ass man through the water course and not let him fall in?

"Lead your partner to the starting position, and then we'll begin."

You do a steady job at pushing at Chan's back to the finish line. You're less than enthusiastic about it though.

You line up among the others, knowing you'll probably come out of this ordeal soaking wet, and that's less than desirable.

The course is simple, lined up floating fuzzy blocks paced in a pathway like structure. Then you have to follow up a little climb of inflatable stairs. Then back down to the finish line. Easy enough right?

Chan's shaking right now, he's not looking forward to falling in and possibly being left to drown — as if he's not in the prescence of a group of lifeguards right now — as if he's not one himself.

He's still scared though, give him a break, he can't see!

He hears the sound of a whistle and you begin pushing at his back, leading him onto the first block. The weight of you two displaces the block, and you can feel the other block getting further.

"Okay, move about two inches onto the next block, don't fall." You instruct him and he follows, waving his foot around until he feels the safety of the makeshift ground.

You jump onto it after him, "The next one is directly in front."

And you're pleased as he lands right on it. The two of you are ahead of some of the others as well, Seungkwan already having fallen into the water, and Vernon still on the first block as Minghao tries to encourage him to move already!

"The next one is far, so I'm going to go ahead of you. I'll grab your hand after and pull you, alright?" You explain and Chan nods.

You do as you said and then hold your hand out, grabbing his palm and pulling him so the blocks float closer together. He carefully makes the step and you cheer a little in your head.

You only had one more block, then the stairs, and you were home free. You could practically taste your drink now.

Well, maybe if Chan hadn't almost fell over.

You grab both of his arms in an attempt to stop him, and you catch him just in time. He winces at the prospect of falling, and you squeeze him. "I'm not going to let you fall, okay? I've got you."

Chan's glad he can't see you, because then he'd bear witness to you noticing the growing redness of his face. And if he had to acknowledge it, then he'd jump into the water himself.

You two successful make it to the last block and you cheer, the others having more trouble with their team work behind you. The others seem to be having a hard time due to lack of trust in their guiders.

You notice that Chan had trusted completely in everything you had said, even though you knew he didn't want to splash in the pool.

You stare at him for a minute, and he starts talking. "Uhh, aren't we supposed to keep moving"

You shake your thoughts from your head. "Up the stairs now, I'll lead you, just hold my hand."

Before you know it, the two of you had made it to the end. You take off Chan's blindfold as you announce your victory. Throwing your arms around Chan as you celebrate. "We won! We beat those suckers."

"Those suckers are right here!" Karina says, panting as she comes down the stairs. She's wet, pulling a much dryer Jeonghan behind her.

You keep your hands around Chan as Karina explains. "He stepped back on the block and basically pushed me off on accident."

You giggle at that, face on a few inches from Chan as he tries not to combust. Lord, he was so in love with you. Your pretty eyes as they crinkled while you let out the prettiest laugh.

Karina notices and she lets out a smile. He really did like you, anyone could see it in his eyes.

You don't notice though, sliding your hands off of Chan as you jokingly tease Karina. "I won the card! I won the card."

Jeonghan pulls off his blindfold just in time for you to see him roll his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

Chan insisted you made a night of spending the card together. You didn't mind, telling him you'd meet him there after your much needed shower.

So here you sat in the Starbucks lobby, awaiting Chan as you had the card and he had already passed you his order. You tapped away on your phone as you hear the chime of the door and you hear someone sitting across from you.

You don't mind his presence, weirdly, you felt he was really vulnerable with you today. While it likely didn't mean much to him, it had you overthinking everything.

"Here's your drink, it just came out." You speak first, pushing the cup towards him.

Chan thanks you and drums his fingers on the side of the cup. "You know, I think this is the longest we've been together without you saying you hate me or something."

You shrug. "It's hard to be mad in a Starbucks. Place smells like heaven, plus you showed out in the game today."

He waves you off. "It's easy to trust you, we've known each other for long."

You snort. "More like you've bothered me for so long."

"Oh, admit it. I make your job more interesting. If it wasn't for me constantly causing a scene then you'd be bored out of your mind."

"I guess you have a point." You reluctantly agree as you sip your drink.

He smirks. "I know."

You purse your lips. "So, any updates with Karina? I know you two have been spending time together lately. Seems I was wrong."

Chan sighs. "No, I'm not into her in that way."

Brows raised, you chuckle, asking a question you already knew the answer to. "She's not interested or?"

"No, and neither was I." He states, eyes meeting yours. "She was never the one I liked."

You don't know why but you stutter a bit. "S-She wasn't?"

Chan looks away. "If it had been her and I out there today, I would've fell into the water."

"What do you mean by that, Chan?"

"You know what I mean by that."

...

You'd been avoiding Chan for the past two days, even constantly buttering up Joshua so you could be on the opposite side of wherever Chan was. It was wrong, you know, but you couldn't help it.

You were a coward, you couldn't even think about acknowledging any feelings Chan had for you. You only had a week left until the end of Summer anyways. Maybe if you ignored it you could move on.

You couldn't like Chan, not after the years you spent disliking him. Sure, had he done anything else to make you increasingly upset? Well, no. And he did usually brighten up slow days with his presence. And he did leave random water bottles by your chair when he knew you were too busy to go get one yourself. (He didn't know you knew, you figured this was his way of trying to get on your good side after the ordeal, but you never forgave him)

That was another thing too, how could he say he liked you after purposefully trying to embarrass you? Sure, it was a while ago, but you never forgot.

You're brought back from your thoughts when Jeonghan speaks, "I'm sorry, your child is not tall enough to ride this ride. It's regulation."

In front of you was an increasingly stubborn woman and what seemed to be her child as she whined about rules you had nothing to do with. "This is ridiculous!"

"It's regulated by the city, ma'am." Jeonghan shrugs. "You can leave a comment card up front if you have a complaint."

She just scoffs and storms off, stomping loudly down the stairs with her child in tow. You'd never understand some people.

Jeonghan turns to you. "Been here the whole summer and I'm still not used to it."

"You never get used to it, trust me."

He laughs in response, before changing the subject. "It's quiet up here, usually Chan's in the general vicinity by now."

You stiffen at the name. "He must be busy."

"He's never too busy for you." Jeonghan crosses his arms.

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Too busy to bother me?"

He suddenly turns serious. "I don't understand, Chan is nothing but nice to you and yet you're always ratting on him like he's a pest."

"You don't get it." You say, hoping he'll drop it.

He doesn't though. "Sure, he's a little overbearing at times but it's only because he really likes you."

"Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Say that he likes me."

"Are you stupid?" Jeonghan spouts, and you're shocked at his tone. "The poor guy looks at you like you hung the stars yourself and you always just brush him off like he's a nuisance! But you know what? Even after all the mean things you do, he does nothing but talk greatly about you. About how you're the kindest soul, about how your smile lights up his day. How you're the prettiest girl he's ever laid eyes on."

You stay quiet, holding back tears.

"He thinks you're the greatest girl in the world, you've just never given him a chance to tell you." He finishes, leaning against the railing.

"I don't believe you."

Jeonghan turns away. "Then you'll have to ask him yourself."

You open your mouth to speak, but it's as if your friend reads your mind. "I-"

"Go," He interrupts, jutting his chin in that direction. "Before it's too late. He's with Vernon at the flow rider."

You nod and take off down the stairs, mindful of the puddles of water on the floor, but your urgency remains the same. You had to know, you had to hear it from him. You need to know why.

It's not too far in the afternoon that there's a huge line, only a couple people standing around but Vernon's helping them. Chan stands to the side looking unoccupied, now was your chance.

Wading through the people, your heart beating against your chest, you find yourself standing in front of Chan.

He averts his eyes, unsure of how to start the conversation. He had gotten the message from your avoidance, you had made your point. "You want to, um, ride the flow rider or..?"

You clear your throat. "Do you like me?"

He leans back at the question. "I thought it was obvious."

"And this isn't a prank?"

He wipes his palms on his pants. "W-Why would it be a prank?"

"I don't know! How am I supposed to believe you after that slushie?" You say, genuinely distraught.

"What slushie?"

"The one you spilled on when I first got hired here! What kind of joke was that?" You ask, finally glad to let it out into the air after holding it in for so long.

"What do you mean? I ran off to get napkins and when I came back you were gone!" Chan answered, confused on why you even remembered that.

"You could've told me! I thought you had ran off to laugh at me!" You argued.

He stands, ignoring the attention you two had drawn from others. "I would've said something but I clammed up and didn't know what to say, you were just so pretty-"

You straighten up. "Chan, you're a moron."

He stills. "I know."

"I thought you were cute before then too. But I felt so embarrassed after that, I even had to pay for a new one because Joshua said someone took the spare."

Chans eyes soften. "I grabbed it for you, but as we know, I never got to give it to you."

You look down at the new information. "Oh."

"I like you, I really do." He begins. "I like a lot of things about you. Like your perseverance, your passion for this job, your love for your friends. Just one of these days I wished you would've talked to me long enough without ripping me apart."

"I'm a bit harsh, aren't I?"

"It's one of the things I like about you, you're not scared to put anyone in their place." He admits, and it was true. Chan liked all of you, not just your better qualities.

"This whole time I thought you were the jerk when really it was me." You remark, eyes on your shoes and the floor beneath you.

"I don't blame you, I'd hate me too." Chan chuckles.

You shake your head. "I don't hate you. In fact, these past few days have been so draining. As much as I complained, you gave me something to look forward too. Knowing I'd see you do something to get my attention, just didn't know why you wanted it so bad."

"Now you know." He steps forward. "And between you and I, I've done a lot of embarrassing things to get you to look my way."

"Oh, you did them on purpose?" You tease.

He playfully rolls his eyes. "Obviously."

You assured him that you believed him as you smiled. He grabs your hand in his, the two of you standing in the sweltering heat of the park. He rubs his thumb over your palm. "So what now?"

"Take me on a date."

"You want to?"

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't." You respond. "I want to give us a chance."

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that."

BONUS:

"That bastard really did it." Seungkwan remarks, eyes bulging out of their sockets as he watches you and Chan flirt by the lockers before closing.

Karina stares on as well. "They're so cute that I want to throw up."

"Give them a break." Minghao butts in. "Today is the last day."

"Thank the Lord." Vernon approaches the others. "As if he couldn't get more annoying about her, I've had to hear him recount every date they've had so far."

Minghao cringes. "She's the same way."

Karina agrees. "I'm not even that bad."

Seungkwan looks over at her. "So how are thing with Mingyu anyways?"

Karina put her hands up. "Oblivious as always."

Shrugging, Minghao leans on the wall. "Should we just ditch them here and go?"

"But we haven't finished cleaning-" Jeonghan, who appeared out of nowhere starts before his voice dies down. "Yeah, lets go."

"They'll definitely be too in love to notice us leaving."

"For sure."

2K notes · View notes

lewkwoodnco · 1 year ago

Note

Hii I wanted to request Anthony Lockwood×fem!reader with Invisible string, where they're neighbours for years, and used to play together as children. When Lucy joins the agency, she becomes friends with the reader, so the reader starts to be more around their house. Then Anthony starts interacting with her more, and they become friends, but Anthony realises his falling for her, so he starts to become awkward and shy around her she notices it and confronts him about it, then he confesses.

Invisible String - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: fluffy fluffy, though there is like the baaarest hint of angst which is kind of brief as long as you dont dwell on it too long + most of it gets resolved hehe and its made up for in the happy happy ending! yay!! personally i imagine the song she's humming at the piano to be invisible string heheh wc 5.4k

Lucy is waiting by their garden gate impatiently. They weren't running late for their job, but it was chilly out and she wanted to get in a cab before it got much colder. Lockwood walks out soon enough, holding a letter, but he walks to the fence rather than the gate. Over the fence, there's a girl pulling on her gloves as she walks towards her own gate, but Lockwood waves her over.

"What's this? Another lawsuit?"

"Not for me, at least. Our mail got mixed up again."

"Ah. Thanks."

They talk about their week for a while. Lucy watches Lockwood's polished exterior melt as his body language becomes more casual and fluid. The girl pockets the letter and the two of them look at each other for a while. He lamely gestures to her outfit.

"You look nice. Going on a date?"

"Yeah, with this guy in my pottery class."

"That sounds nice. Have fun."

"Thanks. You stay safe."

"I'll try."

Lucy walks over, looking at Lockwood meaningfully while he stiffens reflexively. "Who's your friend?"

"We're just neighbours." The girl smiles pleasantly, but Lucy doesn't miss the way he carefully watches her. They introduce themselves to each other. They chat a little, and Lucy picks up on her good-natured teasing of Lockwood appreciatively.

"So you must have known Lockwood for a while now, right?"

"Try ever since I was born. Our parents got on so well that we used to have dinner together every other day. And that was excluding brunch on the weekends. Trust me, I've had enough playdates with him to last a lifetime."

"Lockwood! You've never mentioned her, not even once."

"Well, to be fair, that was all years ago. We've been a little busy for the, um, last decade or so." There's a silence.

"Oh, there was that summer..."

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

"That had been nice."

An uncomfortable prickling accompanies the silence this time. She finishes fiddling with her gloves and looks ready to walk away, but Lucy recognises the suppressed look in Lockwood's eyes and tries to salvage the situation.

"You should come over sometime. We're doing some spring cleaning tomorrow, if you want to join."

"Luce. Let's not burden Y/N with chores."

"No, no, that sounds nice. I'd love to help. Though Lockwood never struck me as the spring-cleaning type."

"He's being coerced. We're holding his favourite rapier hostage."

Her lips twitch as she slices the envelope open. "Well, I wouldn't want to keep you from your job. Be careful. Mum sends her love." She says the last part more to Lockwood, who smiles with a warmth Lucy had seen little of. He watches her walk out, skimming the letter, and it isn't until George joins them that he looks away.

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

Their case is so exhausting and Holly piles so much work on him the next morning that he forgets that she's coming over. It isn't even until the afternoon that he realises she's there at all, when looking for someone to help him rip the stitches off some old curtains. He walks into one of the spare rooms, calling out for George, but he stops short when he sees an unfamiliar figure standing on the bed, peeling posters off the wall. She glances behind and he suddenly remembers the events of last evening.

"Oh - Y/N. Hello. Have you seen the others lately?"

"Lucy went out to get another scraper and I think George went down to the Archives. Holly just left for the post office."

"Oh. I see. Er, do you need help?" She turns around from the poster she was steadily peeling off, dropping it into the pile with satisfaction.

"Nope, that was last of them. Anything I can help you with?"

He hesitates, and she picks up on it.

"Lockwood, I don't have anything to do until Lucy comes home anyway. I don't mind, really."

He relents and she agrees to help immediately, poising to step off the bed. She pauses before making the step, looking at the floor nervously.

"...need help getting down?"

"No. Just...give me a minute." She tries to hold onto the bed's headboard but still suffers from some internal struggle in stepping down. The image triggers a decade-old dormant memory in him, of the time she had slipped from the picnic tabletop in her garden and twisted her ankle. Instinctively, he holds out a hand, which she grabs thankfully and is down so quick he doesn't even realise until she pulls her hand away. The feel of her fully-grown hand in his is a jarring yank back to the present.

"Still so afraid of heights?"

She shudders. "My ankle still twinges if I so much as think of making a small leap. Now, where are those curtains?"

They decide to occupy the couch in the living room, and it's a bit of a tight squeeze with the piles of linens towering around them, but they manage.

"So you take the seam ripper, like so," Lockwood fumbles with the comically small seam ripper but somehow slots it under a tiny stitch, "and you rip the seam. Just like that."

She rips the stitch on her curtain with greater efficiency than him. He looks mildly startled. She glances at the pile of curtains next to her, and then the one next to Lockwood.

"Looks like I'll be done with my pile first."

There's a pause as Lockwood processes her words and the glimmer of competition in her eyes, and then they both leap into action, tugging down yards and yards of fabric, painstakingly unravelling the seams stitch by stitch. It doesn't take long for them to start playing dirty. She tries to block Lockwood's vision by flapping the dusty curtains at him and he tries to slow her down by holding her curtains down. But by the time the rest return, they're too engrossed to sabotage each other so that Lucy finds them sitting in some weird contorted manner, ripping seams feverishly.

"I was only gone two hours! Both of you've done all that?"

She tries to shush Lucy, already feeling herself slow down as she tries to free up enough mental capacity to answer. She feels rather than hears Lockwood giggle in delight as he picks up his pace. Lucy shakes her head, walking out to the kitchen.

"Find me when you're done, I'm having tea." She groans, heavily enticed by the suggestion of biscuits and sweet tea after an afternoon of stringing her fingers to bits.

"Wait, wait, truce please, I want tea."

Lockwood reluctantly lets up, stretching under the sea of curtains around them. They part ways for the evening, taking breaks or helping out with other smaller projects, but they reconvene after dinner, though with significantly less fervour.

An hour or two past midnight, once his neck had started to ache too much, he looks over at Y/N, and realises she's fast asleep. He moves to shake her awake, but she looks so peaceful and alarmingly similar to the little girl he remembered her as that it gives him pause. Lockwood wasn't one for sentimental doting, but it felt nice to have a piece of his long-forgotten childhood in his home again, safe and warm.

He makes a quiet phone call to her parents before fetching a blanket for her. That night, the childhood memories he falls asleep to are warm and happy.

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

Lucy wakes up from her nap in a delightfully warm haze. The house is quiet, likely because of everyone staying up late the previous night. She shuffles to the kitchen, but pauses when she hears a curious sound echoing in the hallway. She blearily follows it to the living room, where she sees Y/N and Lockwood sitting opposite each other at the coffee table, playing poker. She seemed to be trying her best to stop giggling, yet failing, while Lockwood berated her.

"Your poker face sucks, Y/N. I know more about your cards than I do mine."

She shakes with silent laughter, covering her face with her cards ashamedly as Lockwood joins in with the laughing. It's a weirdly surreal sight to see. Everntually, Lockwood's eye drifts and he spots Lucy standing in the doorway.

"Luce. Have a good nap?" Lucy grumbles some incoherent reply, pulling a biscuit out of the biscuit tin. She sits down and watches them shriek at each other (Lockwood was right, her poker face was downright terrible) as they finish the game, and Lucy can't help but smile over the idiots.

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

"Where's Y/N?"

The first words out of Lockwood's mouth the next morning were arguably his most poorly-chosen yet, especially without any buffer from the relentless mocking of Lucy and George. One of them alone was bad enough, but with both of them joining forces, it made for a very weary breakfast.

"Cool it, she's my friend. Get your own."

"Then what does that make us, if not friends?"

"Neighbours." Lucy smiles innocently as Lockwood throws a dish towel at her.

The rest of breakfast passes up uneventfully, which makes the incident the first thing out of Lucy's mouth as soon as she steps through the door.

"Morning!"

"Lockwood missed you at breakfast this morning."

"Did not."

Between Lucy's smirk and Lockwood sullenly hiding in the shadowed hallway, she wasn't sure what to start with.

"Did too, he so wanted you to be there."

Lucy turns to Lockwood, daring him to contradict her. Holly steps out of the kitchen, straightening her pinafore, but doesn't pick up on the tension so she just smiles. His eyes dart between the three of them and some part of his body decides that panic is the best reaction of choice.

"DEPRAC wants to steal my papers," he says as some odd form of explanation, before disappearing into his room. Lucy snorts while Holly and her share a puzzled look.

"I think he's talking about our case report."

Whatever it was, it was being tucked away into his coat when she ran into him at the front door about ten minutes later. His smile is part grimace.

"Sorry about earlier." He stops talking, but looks like he wants to say more, so she patiently hovers. "About breakfast - I just feel bad for doing all this free labour, breakfast is the least I could offer-"

"Don't sweat it, I'm fine."

"Well, I'd feel a lot better if you popped by for a bun every now and then."

Her lips twitch. "Maybe I will."

There's a concerned look in his eye and his gaze that lasts a little too long to be comfortable, and it reminds her of the last time he looked at her like that. It had been near the tail end of the summer a few years back, late at night. She had been crying something awful on her front porch after a certain Noah Lewis had dumped her, and he was neighbourly enough to play a good samaritan in talking her through it.

It had started with a lot of unrestrained swearing and dragging of Noah Lewis' name through the mud as soon as she walked through the front gate, the kind that made her father peer out the window in alarm and then disappear back into the house. After a good quarter of an hour of this, her rage faded along with her energy, and she ended up crying embarrassingly on Lockwood's shoulder. "That's it," she had sobbed into his soft, forest green sweater that smelled like clean cotton. "I'm done with dating. It's the single life for me from now on." What flimsy grip she had managed over her emotions started to slip once more, as she burst into a new set of wails.

"Oh God, I'm going to die alone!" Lockwood rubbed comforting circles on her back as she clutched him tighter.

Looking back, she understood the smile on his face a little better, though a part of her still wanted to stay peeved at him for laughing at her misery. At least he had the decency to cold-shoulder Noah when he came around a few days later.

The memory occupies the back of her mind for the rest of the day, and it's still there when Lockwood returns. She doesn't realise it, but it makes her soften around him, though not noticeably so. By then, they've cleared up enough of the house to uncover the piano tucked away in the basement. Holly had spent the afternoon lovingly tuning it and polishing it up, but no one else seemed much interested in it.

After dinner, she sees Lockwood sitting at the piano, watching the keys as if he's too afraid to touch them. She joins him at the bench, taking in the sight of the glossy keys she could barely hear being played from her room when she was a child. Maybe that's what she's thinking about when she asks him to play something for her, and he obliges.

He plays a short piece that isn't extremely elaborate by any means, but it's beautiful and makes her want to rest her head on his shoulder. When he finishes, there's a short silence, and she tells him it was beautiful. She feels him smile against her head. Her fingers meander over the keys and she plays the occasional note as she hums some tune tucked away in the recesses of her mind. He picks up on it after a while, playing a more complete accompaniment to her stilted humming. She tilts her head where it rests on his shoulder to look at his face, and his hand slips on the note. She wishes to stay there forever.

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

"Hey."

"Hey." The last one was from Lucy, and it earned her a reproving glare and there was this silent yet intense communication between the girls. It's the next day, and now they've started on the library, sifting through the masses of newspapers dating well back into the past century. Lockwood had just returned from helping George at the archives (all the dust and cleaning was making his allergies act up so he wasn't at peak performance, as much as hated to admit it). She finally looks away from Lucy with the air of washing her hands of her, looking up at a forgotten Lockwood.

"Your coat collar's turned up."

"He does that to look cool. And because you're here. Dunno if you've noticed, Lockwood, but the coat hanger's by the door."

"Ha-ha. I'm leaving for Satchell's soon. Just...wanted to see how you were getting on."

"Wanted to see how Y/N was getting on."

"No, no." But his voice is a little too high-pitched to be fully convincing, and Lucy bursts out laughing, and his annoyance evaporates his nervousness. "Just making sure you haven't bullied her to tears, Luce."

"I've been such an angel."

She traces the outline of Lockwood's coat with her gaze fondly. "I remember the morning you bought it." She leans conspiratorially towards Lucy. "Preened in front of me for a good ten minutes, shifting his weight around to look cool. He only stopped when he heard my dad coming out to get the paper."

"That's awfully patient of you. George and I just try to suffocate him when he gets too unbearable."

"Are - are you hearing this? Admission of assault."

'Oh hush, you big baby."

She smiles as she watches them bicker. Lockwood clutches his chest with an exaggeratedly injured look, and their eyes briefly meet. He looks away first.

"What can I say? When you're stuck with this...peacock of a neighbour, you're bound to be forced into being an adoring audience on more than one occasion. Comes in and disrupts my peaceful mornings."

"Someone had to appreciate it, and you're always up at the crack of dawn."

"So are you, but you don't sleep so it doesn't count."

Lockwood lets out an uncharacteristic bark of laughter. Lucy's eyes look like they're about to fall out of her head.

"Sue me for wanting to share first thing I bought with my hard-earned money with someone."

She chokes on her breath, barely holding herself back from a fit of giggles. Lucy looks as though Christmas had come early.

"Lockwood had a job? Like, a proper one?"

"Well, I don't know if I'd call it a job so much as a cosplay of being working class. But yes, he manned a frozen yogurt cart in the park a few summers back. First and last time i've seen him willingly sit out in the sun."

"Oh, please, at least I didn't spend my days making eyes at Noah Lewis."

She shrugs in mock ignorance in a way that Lockwood can't help but match her smile. For a while the only sounds that could be heard were of the girls shifting through the newspaper with inky fingertips, until Lockwood finally gets up to leave for the client meeting.

It's an uneventful trip and consultation, but looks promising enough in terms of commission. It's tedious enough to make him peckish for a mid-morning snack. When he returns, he walks into the kitchen to sneak a biscuit and finds her fiddling near the stove.

"Oh, hi. Lucy and I wanted some tea but I'm not quite sure I know how your kettle works..."

He fiddles with the plug a little, twisting the wire in ways that make her concerned for his safety, but eventually they hear the kettle hum cheerfully, and they silently wait for the water to boil. She fidgets, trying to make small talk.

"How's George's room coming along?"

"I told him to pick out his favourite biohazards. The rest would have to go."

The kettle starts to crackle louder now. She eyes it apprehensively but Lockwood doesn't seem to even register it.

"House looks...pretty much the same."

"Yeah."

"I like it."

"Thank you. But I'm glad we're doing this. The spring cleaning, I mean. Sometimes I wonder if it's too crowded."

"I like it. I think it's crowded with life."

He gives her a soft smile and when he looks at her, he's not as quick to look away as before. But then he remembers her outing last evening and carefully broaches the subject. After all, it had been a while since they talked about things like this, and she was by no means obligated to, but he tried.

"How was your...date?"

"Hmm? Oh, yes. It was alright. He's a nice guy. Patient. Down-to-earth Unlike someone I could mention."

Her teasing smile is back, and Lockwood feels as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. His features contract into a familiar melodramatic expression.

"I'm sorry I disrupted so many peaceful mornings."

A smile slides back onto his face as she scoffs and gives him a shove. "Very funny. You were plenty insufferable before your friends came along. You're lucky I wasn't as creative as them."

"Mm, so grateful."

More silence. "They seem nice, George and Lucy. I see why you spend so much time with them."

And not so much with me, she wanted to add, but she didn't want to cause unnecessary strife, so she just focused on keeping her tone light. But Lockwood still picked up on the subtle edge of bitternes.

"I thought you...moved on to other things in life. You don't stop to chat by the fence much anymore."

"You got so busy with your agency business. I didn't want to impose."

She glances at Lockwood's genuinely puzzled expression, his lips barely parted as she saw the cogs turning in his head, trying to reconcile the idea of their chats being an imposition. She feels awkward in a way she's never felt with him, even when it was just the fence in between the two of them. They went from close, to distant, to kind of close again for that one summer they were 16, and now...now she wasn't sure.

"I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I...I didn't mean to."

"Yeah, well...you can say hi more often. Or bye. If you wanted to." It was stupid; she knew she was being childish but she couldn't help it. Something still smarted inside of her when she saw the three of them traipsing off most nights, something she didn't quite understand.

"I always want to."

"Lockwood? You better not be withholding tea."

They get startled by Lucy's voice and take a step back. Lockwood fumbles as he pulls off the top of the cottage-shaped container, scooping out piles of teabags. "Look, plenty of tea. All the tea. Please don't tell Lucy."

She shakes her head, bemused, pouring water into their mugs just as Lucy walks in, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at Lockwood. Luckily, she gets distracted quickly enough and starts dumping sugar into her mug. She watches Lucy for a while until Lockwood fold his jacket over his arm, brushing her shoulder as he walks past.

"Hm?"

He stops by the door to the kitchen, a familiar easy smile on his face. He looks like home.

"Bye."

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

"Why do you call him Lockwood? Surely you knew him when he was 'Anthony,' or - or was it 'Big A'? Please tell me it was 'Big A.'"

She had started to become a regular visitor at the breakfast table, which meant more time for Lucy to spend interrogating her on everything and anything about Lockwood. Even George had joined in briefly; it was too good of an opportunity to pass up for an enigma like Lockwood. All the while, he anxiously flitted around, on guard to brush off anything too incriminating.

He carries the kettle away, mildly peeved. "I think that's enough tea for you, Luce." Lucy makes a face behind his back and the girls share a muffled laugh.

"Oh, he hasn't been Anthony for ages." She smiles briefly, but gives Lucy's hand an intentional squeeze, her eyes asking Lucy to not press it. She doesn't realise how Lockwood has suddenly become much more interested in the paper only because she too is avoiding eye contact.

She remembers it like it was yesterday. Her parents had done their best to help Lockwood, but there was only so much they could legally do (not that it stopped her mother from sniffing disapprovingly at every inept social worker that walked up the garden path). It had been after Jessica's funeral, and for once they were both on the same side of the fence: sitting on the steps to the porch. He was wearing a suit that was a bit too big for him, not unlike his daily attire now, and the smell of burnt rubber hung in the air.

"I don't think I want to be Anthony anymore."

It was a decision that never confused her, not even for a minute. Anyone would have needed a reconstruction of identity after going through such traumatic experiences at an age as young as his. Adjusting to the change had been surprisingly smooth too; he didn't look much like Anthony after that day either. But it was bone-deep agony to watch time drip by, like lazy honey, and only being able to hope that he was getting happier.

Lucy picks up on the hint and starts asking George about the rooms they need to tackle today. Meanwhile, she walks past the kitchen window, nearly bumping into Lockwood. They breathe a reflexive apology and laugh lightly. Her eyes land on the angry red cut on his forehead.

"How's the-?"

"Oh, it's fine. Just a scrape. I've had worse."

"Aw, you poor baby."

Lockwood laughs weakly as she gently tugs at the skin near the cut, which at least seemed to be better than the previous night. When looks away she notices the pink tinge to the tips of his ears. She frowns at the slightly ajar window, closing it firmly. There still was a chill in the air from the frost that hadn't completely melted away yet.

True to his word, Lockwood comes home with a broken wrist a few days later. George is rather miffed and Lockwood insists that he's making it sound worse than it actually was, but that doesn't stop her from wincing when George claims he heard the snap of his bone from the floor below. Despite Lucy's insistence that he had survived much worse, she can't help but fret over him a little.

"I can pour my soup myself, you know."

"Yes, yes, you're a big strong man who needs no help. Now go sit down, I'll bring your toast." It might have been more convincing if she hadn't been absent-mindedly muttering, or even without the pat on his head, but he still took his seat at the table, not entirely unhappy. George had managed to wrestle him into his bed in the afternoon and his body finally succumbed to the beckoning of sleep, making him sleep through dinner. It was just the two of them in the kitchen, one anxiously watching the other sip their soup.

"Really, you didn't need to do this. It's no trouble on my wrist."

"Lockwood, the doctor said not to put any pressure on it. It is, by definition, trouble on your wrist."

He sighs, frowning at how she worries her bottom lip. "You're not...doing this out of guilt, or something, are you?"

She opens her mouth to deny it, to say how preposterous such a suggestion is, but her protests die on her lips. She takes a shaky breath.

"I was thinking about the days after...you know. How exhausted and lonely you must have been. How I didn't care enough to visit you more, to even cross that fence, unless it was to come running to you with my own silly problems."

"Y/N," he looks like he wants to smile but is trying not to for the benefit of the situation, and it rubs salt in her wound. "Of course you cared. You were just a kid, acting like kids do."

"I yelled at you about Noah when I was 16. 16."

"And I appreciated it. You gave me something more normal to be mad about. You made me feel like a teenager again." He reaches out and covers her hand with his uninjured one. "And I don't ever want you feeling like any of your problems is too tiny or insignificant to bother me with. I'm your neighbour, what else am I good for?"

She gives him a watery smile, feeling the tension that had been bunching around her temples all afternoon start to dissolve. He always knew just what to say, the ointment to every wound and scratch. He made it easier to live, easier to breathe.

"Wait, where's Lockwood?"

"Going down to Arif's."

"With a broken wrist?"

"He still has his left hand!" Lucy calls after her, but she's too busy scrambling for a pair of mittens and hurrying to the front door. Luckily, she catches him just as he's about to head out, and a smile cracks open on his face when he sees her.

"Everything alright?"

"You forgot your mittens."

He eyes the patterned woollens in her hands. "Y/N. I haven't worn mittens since I was...six, maybe."

"Obviously, since that's about how long they've been collecting dust in your old coat - which, by the way, is in no shape for the Salvation Army. You didn't set it on fire, did you?"

"Look, when it comes to fires, I may have an affinity for them but not necessa-"

"Fine. Just wear the mittens."

"I'll only be a minute! What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, yes, because a cold is exactly what you need on top of a snapped wrist and cut." She holds the mittens out expectantly, and he reluctantly takes them. They spend a few awkward minutes trying to figure out how to get them on without his cast getting in the way, and Lockwood nearly drops them when he gets startled by the brush of her fingertips on his palm, until she decisively puts them on his hands herself. When she looks up, his ears are tinged red again, as well as his nose.

"See, you're already getting cold. Are you sure I can't go to Arif's for you?"

They hear a scoff from behind, and turn to see George watching them. She looks at him questioningly but he ambles past her to the kitchen, muttering words under his breath she couldn't quite understand. Lockwood takes advantage of the pause in her fussing and steps out before she can continue protesting, but the sight of the mittens securely pulled over his fingers gives her some relief.

George turns his snigger into a poorly concealed cough.

"What now?"

"If you keep kissing his scrapes better, he'll throw himself off a cliff one of these days."

"George." Lucy admonishes him while she tries to settle the awkard swooping sensation in her chest.

"It's true and you know it."

Lucy nods awkwardly at her. "I mean...he's got a point."

When she thinks about it, it makes her feel funny in a way she can't deicide.

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

Later that evening, she's sitting on her porch, brooding, when Lockwood leans over the fence.

"Home so soon?"

"Thought I'd come here for some quiet thinking."

He nods affably, his flyaway hair gleaming in the setting sun. "You left your cards in the living room."

"Come on over," she says unexpectedly, possessed by a sudden desire to be close to him. It surprises her as much as him, but as she watches him walk out of his own gate, and strangely walk into her gate, the foreign sight reassures her with a distant sense of familiarity. She had been on so many crazy misadventures, but they all led her back to the same place: in his arms. Maybe the universe had grown hoarse from yelling at her to open her eyes to what was right in front of her.

He sits down next to her and hands her the cards. She looks at the quiet face of Anthony hiding inside the sallow face in front of hers, and marvels at how the same time that put her through hell as a child had somewhat healed his wounds. She puts them to the side and links her fingers in his, resting her head on his shoulder as their breath misted in the chill.

"Remember that summer at the yogurt shop?" She feels him relax against her as he hums in agreement. "You looked so fresh in your teal shirt."

"I wondered what you were doing, sitting under that tree all day. Was it really just to watch Noah all day?"

She shrugs. "Maybe. It was a weird sort of year. I had this restlessness in me...this desire to sit outside in the world and wait for things to start happening to me. For someone to find me and for my life to begin." She shifts, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "Speaking of Noah...did you know he got married last year?"

"Someone wanted to marry Noah Lewis?"

"You say things like that as if I wasn't ready to have his children just two years ago."

"To be fair, you weren't the brightest two years ago."

"Anyway, they're expecting a child. Him and his wife. I even sent him a baby shower gift."

"A gift? What, TNT?"

She laughs into his shoulder, and she can feel him metaphorically swelling with pride. And when she stops laughing, there is nothing to distract her from the dull ache in her heart, the string that tugged at it as it desperately reached for Lockwood's. Lockwood, who invigorated her spirit and quelled her anxieties, who was the balmy breeze on a warm summer evening, who smelt of a pleasantly sharp soap. She stumbled and fell a million times with all the wrong people in all the wrong places, but now she felt as though she were being reeled home by the invisible string that permanently and irrevocably tied her to him.

She looks up at the sky, a thousand different shades of blue, purple and pink. The temperature continues to drop, but with Lockwood's arm wrapped around her after a particularly vicious gust of wind, she feels warm enough. She murmurs into his neck and feels the hair at the back of his neck stand against her lips.

"Isn't it just so pretty to think...all along there was some invisible string," she inhales, "tying you...to…me."

#fanfiction #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood imagine #fanfic #lockwood and co netflix #lockwood x y/n #taylor swift #folklore #invisible string

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fishhawish · 1 year ago

Note

I'm back with a Diluc request and am in the mood for Vindictive!Reader. When Jean started her affair with Diluc, she had assumed that you were a meek, submissive housewife she can easily browbeat into divorcing Diluc. So, when Diluc tells her that you want to meet up because you found out about their relationship, Jean decides it was the perfect chance to bully you into divorcing Diluc. Much to her surprise, she finds a confident, assertive you; a you who declares that while you accept her relationship with Diluc, you have no intention of giving up your title as wife, so Jean will have to settle for being the concubine.

Orderly roles.

Unfaithful (bit possessive) Diluc x Vindictive Reader ❤️

Also reader x whatever character you insert

Tw: cheating, hints of sexual advances

Reader is gender neutral however there is hints of being female and them having kids with Diluc

Not proofread btw

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Your mirrage was perfect, up until the point you noticed that your husband was acting unfond of you. Even Infront of your own children he is not kind to you like he used to be. The gentle yet well put together man you once knew and loved separated from you more day by day. You knew it hurt your kids, you know it'd hurt yourself to leave him too. Unfortunately what bound you to Diluc was the fact you're financially dependent on him.

So when you found him undressing a particular beautiful, strong and resilient blond woman you didn't even bat an eye. You just kept doing what you where, wether it be reading or baking you'd stay away from them. You've always known you're just her replacement, so why would you even bother to be upset to begin with? You've seen the way they look at eachother, even on your wedding day. You love Diluc, but he is definitely not yours by heart.

Unfortunately for Jean, he's not hers legally either, and what She did not plan on was your stubbornness about leaving diluc. From attempting to bribe you to bullying you to divorce him, but you did not budge. Going as far as offering to have the knights fund you to be able to live comfortably without diluc and yet you turned it down every time. Effectively putting Jean in her place with every rejection.

By then some of the towns folk where starting to notice the separation. Thus some young men began to attempt to pursue you. Courting became quite common when it came to other men, and yet for some reason it upset Diluc. If you talked to a handsome young man, striking simple conversation Diluc couldn't help but feel jealous. But he didn't understand. Something else he didn't understand is why you wouldn't leave. Partly that he secretly doesn't want you too.

Eventually you meet a fine man, strong and sweet. You found yourself falling for him, spending time with him or to bake him treats. He'd take you on adventures and teach you things you never thought where possible. He was aware of your relationship, you told him everything because you trust him. With that, is how you began to also pursue this man. And it made Diluc's blood boil. Diluc couldn't understand why he's be mad.

Shouldn't Diluc be happy that he can be with Jean alone finally? Despite everything you never divorced him. Jean wasn't quite happy about this situation, and neither was Diluc. Diluc's heart aching knowing you're with another man, and yet he doesn't know why, he doesn't know why after he's cheated for so long, tried to leave you and such. And yet he feels so upset. Perhaps he's mad that he was replaced.

Although you considered taking your kids and running away with your lover, you decided to rub salt in the wound and come home to make dinner every night to spite diluc for ever cheating. Sure you may love each other deep down inside, but he brought thus into himself. It's only payback for him cheating on you. All that is to come from this is an annoyed Jean and a emotionally wrecked Diluc.

Diluc wasn't good enough anyway considering he never spent time with you or his family.

#genshin impact #angst #genshin x reader #x reader #angst with comfort #comfort #fluff #diluc ragnvindr #diluc #genshin #diluc x you #genshin diluc #angst fanfic

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funnylittlelad · 2 years ago

Text

Rules Made To Be Broken - Steve Harrington x gn! reader

Masterlist - AO3

<< Rule Two | Epilogue >>

summary: As you and Steve grow closer, things seem to be going perfectly. That is until your police chief father steps in. The more you lie the deeper a hole you dig, but what else can you do? No matter what your dad says, you're not staying away from Steve Harrington.

wordcount: 6k

notes/tags: Hopper!reader, secret dating, sneaking around, fluff, friends to lovers, events of season three do not take place (canon divergent), Hopper is a bit of an (redeemable) overprotective helicopter parent, mentions of/talks about: abusive parents, Steve's father is his own warning, Good Brother Jonathan (tm), tumultuous relationships, divorce, death, and family trauma.

Rule Three: No Having Steve Over If Your Dad Isn't Home

Joyce corners Hopper when he’s brushing his teeth before bed. She shuts them both in the bathroom and turns to him with a stern expression. He raises his eyebrows at her in question, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth. She crosses her arms. He turns, spits out what toothpaste is left in his mouth, and rinses. As he turns back to her, he wipes the corners of his mouth with a rag.

“Is something wrong?” He asks.

“Jim, I know you're not stupid so why are you being so hard on Steve?” She questions.

“Someone ought’a be,” he answers.

“You don't think John is?” She scoffs.

“What's this about, huh?”

Joyce shakes her head a little.

“You have to have noticed they like each other. There's something there and Steve is a good guy-”

“He’s a Harrington.”

“Jesus Christ, Jim, that doesn't matter! Steve has kept both your children safe from Upside Down monster bullshit! You’ve already been complaining that something is different with your relationship. If you keep this up, you won't have a relationship at all,” Joyce hisses.

Hopper crosses his arms. He breathes evenly as he and Joyce stare each other down. It doesn't matter how long he stands here, he knows she'll win.

“He reminds me of me,” he admits through grit teeth.

“What?” Joyce’s brows furrow.

“Steve- he…,” Hopper sighs and looks away, “He reminds me of myself at that age. It's when I met Diane. Just… My kids deserve better than that- they deserve better than me.”

“Any of those kids would be lucky to end up with someone like you. Steve is a good one. We’re lucky it’s him and not one of those other idiots out there,” Joyce says softly.

Hopper runs a hand down his face.

“So, what? What are you saying? What do you want me to do?” He questions.

“Let go a little. Let them see each other.”

“You mean let them start seeing each other.”

Joyce’s mouth presses into a thin line. She doesn't want to give up her mistake, but she doesn't want to lie. That alone says enough. Still, Hopper gives her another chance.

“Joyce, you meant to say you want me to let them start to see each other, right? Not continue to see each other,” he tries again evenly.

She takes a measured breath. Her big eyes flash down and then back up at him. They're brimming with an apology.

“I’m sorry, Jim. This is what I mean-”

“How long?”

“I don't know.”

“How long have you known?”

“I just found out. Neither of them wants to be sneaking around, but they don't think you've given them another choice,” she tries to explain to him.

“Thank you, Joyce,” he states and turns back to the sink.

His large hands grip the edge as he glares at the faucet. Joyce watches him for a moment, teetering between annoyed and sympathetic. She loves Hopper but, Christ, is he stubborn.

“Maybe instead of seeing Steve and thinking of him being a Harrington, you should think about Callahan. Steve’s related to him too, remember? Will and Jonathan are related to Lonnie, but you don't think they'd ever be like him,” she points out, “It’s okay that you're scared, but you can't let it control you.”

“ Thank you, Joyce ,” he says again with more emphasis.

With a sigh, she leaves unsure if she just made things better or worse.

The next time you see your dad is strange. He lumbers around you as you do the dishes, grunting in acknowledgment, with a storm cloud over his head. It's not totally unusual so you don't think much of it. You figure he's just in a mood. So, you let it be while he prepares his lunch of a sandwich. Then you accidentally drop and break a plate in the sink. That seems to light whatever short fuse your dad has today.

“We can't get a new place to live and buy a whole new set of plates,” he drawls bitterly.

You turn annoyed furrowed brows on him.

“It was one plate. I think we’ll financially recover,” you quip.

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you balanced the checkbook recently?” He all but snaps.

You blink at the running water. Aggravation and concern are beginning to swirl together. Why does it feel like he's picking a fight?

“Okay, I’ll buy the plates. There, happy?” You bite.

“ Peachy .”

“Good.”

A tense silence blankets the kitchen. Ceramic bits of plate clink against the metal of the sink as you collect them. Your dad angrily spreads mustard on a piece of bread.

“You’re watching Will and El tonight,” he informs you.

“Excuse me? Since when?” You let out a single sarcastic laugh and turn on him.

“What? Do you have plans?” He shoots back pointedly, eyes sharp and analyzing.

Your heart catches in your throat. You do have plans. Plans with Steve you had yet to lie to him about. It’s okay, those plans can change. You aren't giving up coveted Steve time, not when it's feeling so hard to come by. Steve went full-time last week. You haven't seen him outside of the mall in days. Both of you have been too tired while adjusting to your new schedules.

“No,” you lie, “Doesn't mean I wouldn't like the option.”

His gaze hardens. There's a tug at your stomach, a warning signal that something is awry. He’s not just in a mood, he’s fucking pissed. You just don't know why.

“Well, now your plans are watching Will and El,” he says cooly, going back to his half-assembled sandwich.

“They don't need me to watch them,” you echo what must be a million you’s from the past.

“I say they do.”

“Whatever, this is fucking stupid,” you mutter to yourself as you toss the plate bits in the trash.

“That’s it, you’re grounded,” he snaps and turns on you.

You gape at him with a scoff.

“ What? For what?” You demand.

“Talking back.”

“Talking ba- I’m fucking nineteen, dad, get a grip!” You shout.

“Indefinitely,” he tacks onto your sentence.

“God, I can't wait to move out and get away from your insane ass!” You boil over furiously.

You stomp away before you can see the crumpled look on his face. You don't want to see it. The words just slipped out. They weren't even true, but not much is from your mouth these days. At least when it comes to your dad. Your heart seizes as you trek down the hallway to your room.

It shatters when the door slams shut. There was a time your dad and you were close. You had weekly traditions and inside jokes to fill up the empty parts of your lives. Then you grew up. Then all the Upside Down shit started happening. With each gate, the rift between you widened. You started working and hanging out with Robin more. He started working more, carefully monitoring for the next sign of foul play. El distracted both of you from whatever uncomfortable distance sat between you. For a while.

Steve had never been a stranger. After he saved your life, the two of you became something like old friends. The kind that had once been close in school, but since grown apart. You acknowledge each other’s existence with a nod and move on. After you saved his life, you began to talk more. Nothing crazy, just a hello or a how are you if you ran into each other. Until you found him outside the convenience store one night. You had walked over to grab snacks for you and El. Steve sat on the trunk of his car, occasionally sipping a coke.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet with a small smile.

He seems a little startled but relaxes when he registers it's you. He returns your smile.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you chuckle.

“Me? Oh, well, isn't it obvious,” he holds his arms out at the no one around you, “I’m hanging out with my tons of friends.”

You can feel the knit grow in your brow.

“Are you okay?” You cut right to the chase.

“Yeah,” he sighs, drops his arms, and nods, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Forgive me if I don't believe you,” you deadpan.

“I’m fine, really. I’m just… reflecting,” he shrugs.

“On what?” You ask and gesture to the spot beside him.

He nods and scooches over to give you enough room. You lift yourself up onto the trunk next to him. He sips his coke. You wait patiently.

“I think my only friend right now is a child,” he wrinkles his nose at the thought.

“You finally gave up on Carol and Tommy H.?” You tease.

“Yeah, little while ago.”

“Who’s the child?”

“Henderson.”

You perk up at the mention of the curly-headed goofball.

“Oh, Dustin’s a good one to have around. He’ll talk to you like you're stupid, though. Sadly, most of the time he does he’s right , but still,” you tell him.

Steve hums in agreement. He stares down at his hands for a moment. Then his eyes are on you once more. The multicolor fluorescents in the window advertising different beers streak color across his eyes. It makes them look like they're made of rainbows. Little rainbows only you can see.

“What about you? Friends? Enemies? Lovers ?” He smirks and nudges you at the last one.

You roll your eyes and give him a small shove. He laughs in response.

“I’m good friends with Robin Buckley. She’s in the marching band at school so you probably don't know her,” you answer.

He shakes his head to confirm he doesn't know her.

“Is that it?” he quirks his eyebrows at you.

“The same children as you, I guess,” you laugh, “Other than that… yeah, pretty much. You know my dad.”

Steve nods contemplatively.

“There's me too. We’re friends. We kinda have to be after everything,” he reasons.

You gasp dramatically.

“Does this mean I’m friends with the Steve Harrington ?” You ask with a hand over your chest.

Steve laughs a beautiful full bodied laugh. It brings a smile to your face. At least you were able to make his night a little brighter.

“It sure does,” he says.

“Well, since we’re friends and all,” you slide down off the trunk and turn to face him, “If you ever find yourself at the mall, feel free to pop into the arcade and say hi.”

He seems to deflate a little bit. It's almost as if he's disappointed when he realizes you're leaving. He nods with a small smile.

“Will do,” he promises.

You take another moment to really examine him. He looks so small half curled in on himself, clutching an open bottle of coke, and ignoring the whip of his windbreaker.

“Are you really okay, Steve?” You ask softly.

“I’m better now,” he nods.

You smile, accepting that answer.

“Alright, I should grab snacks and head back to El. Take care, Harrington.”

“Take care, Hopper.”

The following day Steve did go to the mall. While there he saw the hiring sign in the window at Scoops. Fast forward a week to you going to bother Robin on your break. There Steve was behind the counter in little blue sailor shorts. It was easy to slip and fall in the Harrington charm once you were subject to it on your break every day. Sometimes Robin had to fight to remind the two of you she was there.

You wait for your dad to leave for his night shift. The moment the chief’s truck is out of sight, you’re on the phone.

“Who are you calling?” Will asks when he wanders into the kitchen for a drink.

“Steve. We were supposed to see each other tonight,” you explain a little shorter than you intend.

Will offers a sympathetic smile.

“We tried telling him we didn't need you to watch us,” he says.

“Thanks for trying,” you give a small smile in return.

“Harrington,” Steve answers the phone.

“You sound like such a douche when you answer the phone, y’know that?” You tease.

“I don't have to take this. I could hang up,” he scoffs, pretending to be affronted.

“No,” you whine, “Then you won't hear me inviting you over.”

“I thought your dad worked tonight?”

“He does, but now I’m stuck here thanks to him. You can be gone before he gets back,” you say.

“Okay, just give me like twenty minutes.”

“See you soon, handsome.”

“See you soon, baby.”

Your face floods red as you hang up. Will snorts. You shoot him a glare.

“What?” You question.

“Nothing,” he defends, “you guys are cute.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, a little embarrassed as you walk by.

You plop onto the couch next to El. She instinctively leans into you. From the moment you met, El just kind of latched onto you. She would be behind your legs, at your side, and telling you first when something was wrong. You don't know what you did to earn her trust like that, but you value it.

“Stevie’s coming over,” you tell her.

“Dad doesn't know?” she checks.

“No, he doesn't and we have to keep it that way,” you answer.

She nods dutifully. You know you can trust her. She’s had her own arguments with your dad over his protectiveness. Granted, arguments with El tend to see a lot more things flying off the walls.

“You have been fighting more,” she comments after a moment.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess we have.”

“Is it about Steve?”

“No, but dad keeps trying to make it about him. Dad doesn't… He doesn't know how to let go of things. Including us,” you explain sadly.

“Are you going to leave?” She whispers.

You choke down your uncertainty.

“Well, I’m going to start saving for an apartment soon but that doesn't mean you’ll never see me again,” you whisper back.

“Dad will be very sad.”

“Y-yeah, I know.”

“So will I,” she admits.

“I know, me too.”

She hugs you tightly from the side. You do your best to do the same. Will flops down on the other side of El with a sigh. The three of you watch tv until there's a rhythmic knock on the door. You bounce up and go to the door, swinging it open with a smile. Steve stands there with a wide smile of his own, hair freshly primped just to see you. He swoops in for a kiss, earning a chorus of ew s from Will and El. The two of you chuckle as you pull apart.

“Are you guys cool to be alone for a bit?” You check.

Will and El make disgusted faces and pretend to gag. You roll your eyes. You take Steve by the hand and lead him to your room. The door stays cracked, in case you get called for. Once you turn around you’re wrapped in Steve’s arm. He nuzzles into you as much as humanly possible.

“Steve,” you giggle into the feeling of his breath on your neck.

“I missed you,” he grumbles into your skin.

“I missed you too,” you sigh and melt into him.

You comb your fingers through his hair, half expecting him to purr like a cat. After a moment, you manage to lead the two of you over to your bed. There you fall back on your old comforter, still attached. Steve pulls away so you’re nose to nose. The smile that brightens your face is instinctive. The one that brightens his is the same. Smiling is natural around each other.

“I want to take you out for real. A nice dinner, maybe dance a little,” he says, eyes sweeter than ever.

“You dance?” You smirk.

“I was in ballroom until I was ten,” he states with a goofy smile.

“That right? Well, now you have to show me the moves,” you decide and extract yourself from him.

He sits up after you. His eyes stay on you as you dig through your tapes. You pop one into the stereo. Something light and poppy drips from the speakers. With a bright grin, you hold your hand out to him. A light blush takes over his cheeks, but he ignores it. As requested, he gets up and takes your hand.

You descend into laughter as Steve glides and spins you around the room. His arm is snug against your lower back while his other hand clasps yours. He’s not bad for not having had a lesson in eight years. Together you and Steve walk on air, bolstered by the high of finally being together outside of blistering fluorescent lights and fake plants.

The station is absolutely dead. There's one light that's been buzzing for weeks now. It irritates Hopper’s ear, gnawing at his eardrum and begging for restitution. He sighs heavily and drops his face into his hands. As he attempts to rub the tired boredom from his eyes the bell dings from the front.

“Flo, you got that?” He calls.

There's no answer, but another ding .

“Flo?” He calls again, growing short.

Another ding . He sighs and heaves himself out of his chair. Irritated grumbles fall from his mouth as he makes his way over to the front desk. Flo is gone for the night. He forgot it was that late already. Another sigh leaves his lungs.

“How can I-” He pauses when he sees John Harrington smiling from the other side of the desk, “What can I do you for, John?”

“I’m here for Phil. Picking him up. Say, I’m glad I ran into you, though,” John Harrington grows a smarmy grin, “We should get the family together soon. Have dinner.”

Hopper’s mouth tightens and his nostrils flare a tad as his warning bells go off. His eyes narrow as Callahan rounds the corner from the locker room.

“Oh, hey-” Callahan begins to greet.

“Why would we do that?” Hopper questions John, ignoring Callahan completely.

Callahan stops a few feet away. He looks inquisitively between the two men.

“I figured celebration is in order since our kids are together! I gotta say, Jim, you raised a good kid. Gotta good head on-”

“How would you know that from a two-minute conversation at a crowded bar?” Hopper snaps, already knowing where this is heading.

His face grows red with anger. John attempts a confused facade, but it's thin.

“We had dinner together a few weeks ago,” he says as if reminding Hopper.

“Oh, did you?” Hopper asks with a nod.

“Yes, I thought you kne-”

“Callahan,” Hopper booms as he starts back for his office, “You’re staying in tonight. I have to leave.”

Callahan, who had already been heading back to the locker room throws back a you got it, Chief. Hopper doesn't spare John Harrington another glance as he storms out to his truck. If he had, he would have seen a sly satisfied smirk. As you and Steve twirl around in a fog of affection, your dad races home with his lights on.

Steve spins you out and then back into his arms. The moment you're back, his nose is brushing against yours.

“I love you,” he breathes between notes of music.

“I love you too,” you smile.

You're not sure who kisses first this time. Perhaps you meet in the middle. Either way, it’s a tender kiss that warms you from your head to your toes. Steve kisses you as if it’s the reason he was put on this planet. You let him guide you back to your bed. When the mattress hits your legs you tumble onto it. Steve lands over you, smiling full of adoration.

“My mom’s birthday is coming up. Every year there's this big dinner somewhere stuck up with a bunch of people who are even more stuck up,” he tells you.

“Sounds awful,” you chuckle.

“It is. Would you come with me? She really likes you and it might be half decent with you there,” he turns bashful.

Your smile falters.

“I want to, but my dad grounded me indefinitely,” you chew on your lip, “Maybe I can sneak out-”

“No, no it's okay,” Steve shakes his head, “You sneak out for me enough as it is.”

“I do it because I want to,” you remind him.

“I know, but I can tell all the lying has been messing with you. I don't want to make it any worse,” he says.

“I appreciate that, Steve, really. It’s my decision, though. It isn't your fault I’m lying or sneaking around. It’s my dad’s,” you reply.

“That doesn't mean I don't feel bad.”

“That’s because you’re sweet,” you give him a quick peck on the tip of his nose, “I would love to go with you to this awful birthday dinner.”

Caramel apple eyes go molten as they bore into you. The softest of smiles graces his face and your line of sight. You can almost physically feel the love rolling off of him in waves. It throbs in your chest.

“Great because I’ve been dying for a way to show you off,” he sighs as if relieved.

You chuckle as fire crackles across your face.

“You’re such a dork,” you tease.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” he teases back.

Your mouth opens to respond, but the bedroom door slamming shut stops you. Both of you snap to look just in time to see the lock click on its own. Your attention immediately moves to the window. The world stops, then falls. Red and blue flash against the trees outside.

“Steve,” you whisper urgently, “ hide .”

“Wha-” he starts at normal volume.

You grab his face and point him toward the window.

“You need to hide,” you hiss.

“Shit,” he breathes and scrambles off of you.

You can hear your dad’s voice from the living room. He’s loud and angry. Hot spikes of fear shoot through you as you try to pull together your room. His footsteps are heavy as they come down the hall. When you turn around Steve is nowhere to be seen. You have no clue where he hid. Whether that's good or bad is to be seen.

The banging on your door causes you to jump. You freeze for a moment until more banging jars you.

“Open the door now,” your dad orders from the other side, jangling the knob.

With a deep breath, you do. He stares at you furiously, mouth twisted and tight, and breathing heavy. He’s still in uniform, which makes you feel even worse.

“What are you doing ho-”

“Is he here?” He cuts you off.

“Who?” You play dumb.

“Who?” He lets out a sardonic chuckle, “Your boyfriend. Is. He. Here?”

Your stomach lurches. It takes a lot not to grab onto something to steady yourself.

“No one is here,” you answer firmly.

“Like I’d believe you,” he scoffs and pushes past you.

There’s nothing you can do but watch. You watch him turn out the curtains, check the old wardrobe, then the closet, before reaching under your bed. He pulls out some lost socks, but not much else. With nowhere else to turn, he goes to Jonathan’s side. It's the last place. Your heart is pounding in your throat. Your palms are clammy.

He reaches under the skirt of Jonathan’s bed. After a moment of feeling, he yanks out a sandwich baggie of weed. His nostrils flare as he takes it in.

“Great, perfect, now I have to deal with this ,” he grumbles.

“Are we done here?” You ask.

He turns on you slowly. You cross your arms over your chest.

“How long?” He shoots back.

“What-”

“Don't play dumb with me,” he snaps, “How long have you and Steve been together?”

Your own nostrils flare as you stare at him. Tears burn a threat into the backs of your eyes, but you don't let them spill.

“June,” you answer quietly.

“ June ? It’s August,” he points out angrily.

“Yeah, it is,” you nod.

Realization dawns on his face then more fury.

“Was it you Callahan caught in Steve’s car?” He interrogates.

The flush of your cheeks says enough, but you answer anyway.

“Yes, but it was one time and nothing happened.”

Your dad runs a furious hand over his face.

“So, you've been lying to my face since June, sneaking around with Steve, and breaking every rule I set. Did I miss anything?”

You shake your head weakly.

“No.”

“I don't even know who you are anymore,” he huffs.

That punches you right in the gut. A tear escapes its holding cell. It breaks you.

“You didn't give me a choice! I’m an adult, dad, whether you like it or not! You can't control me or my life! I get that you don't like Steve’s dad and I get why, but Steve isn't him. Steve couldn't be farther from him. If you just took your head out of your ass for a fucking second you’d see how happy Steve makes me and how fucking in love with him I am,” you shout, voice angry and wet.

Your dad spends a moment regarding you. Such a long moment your steam dies out and you have to stop yourself from crumpling to the floor. His entire demeanor goes from hot to cold. He nods a little.

“Fine. From now on, do whatever you want since you're going to anyway. Don't bother lying to me about it- I don't care anymore,” he states coolly.

Then he turns on his heel and stalks out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. You drop to your knees numbly. Steve emerges from underneath Jonathan’s bed looking manic and disheveled.

“Tell Jonathan I’m sorry for selling him out, but your dad was like a second away from grabbing my di- shit,” he shuffles to you and takes you in his arms, “I’m sorry.”

You didn't even realize you were crying. Fat warm tears stream down your face. You bury yourself in Steve and let the sobs shake you. I don't care anymore echoes in your head like a curse. After a while of falling apart in Steve’s arms, he slips out through the window. He parked his car a street away to be safe, thankfully. The rest of the night is spent crying under your comforter.

At some point, you hear Jonathan come home. He and your dad get into a shouting match of their own. Then Jonathan slams into the room and throws himself into his bed. Both of you ignore each other. There's nothing to say. It's a long, restless night. Sara plagues the short hours you do manage to sleep. As much as you miss her, you wish she’d just stay away. You wish she would stop reminding you how much you've fucked up, how you've disappointed your dad in ways she never would have.

The following morning your eyes are sore from crying. Your face is a touch swollen with it. Joyce gives you a small sympathetic smile when she sees you emerge in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” El greets softly as she butters an Eggo.

“Morning,” you croak as you ruffle her hair.

The phone trills loudly as you pour yourself some coffee. Joyce answers it. After chatting for a moment she calls gently for you. You look over your shoulder to see her holding the phone out for you.

“It’s Steve,” she tells you.

You nearly spill your coffee with how quickly you put it down. With an appreciative little smile, you take the phone from her.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Hey,” he sounds relieved to hear your voice, “I wanted to check in after last night. How’s it going?”

“It’s… alright,” you sigh, “thanks for checking.”

“If I’m being honest, it took me twenty minutes to sike myself up enough to risk your dad answering,” he chuckles.

“I appreciate your bravery,” you muse with a small smile.

“You sure you’re okay, baby?” he asks gently.

Your lip starts trembling then. You thought you had it together, but hearing Steve’s voice has made you realize how much you don't.

“N- no, not really,” you admit quietly, knowing you have company.

“My parents are gone. I can come get you if you want,” he offers.

“Yes, please,” you accept, muscles easing at the thought.

“Okay, I’ll be there in ten,” he tells you, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Then the phone clicks off and you put it back on the hook. When you turn around only El is there. She’s buttering a second Eggo. You grab your coffee and sidle up next to her.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you say quietly.

“I know,” she smiles a little at you.

She slides the buttered Eggo to you.

“Are you okay?” you check.

“I am okay. I was worried about you,” she answers.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, “Thanks for the door.”

She smiles and nods. Then she walks out to the table. You take your Eggo to go, eating it as you head back to your room. You change into fresher clothes but stay comfortable. It's the first day you and Steve have had off together in a week. After last night, you plan on staying in with him.

Once changed, you make your way nervously to the living room. Joyce folds laundry on the couch while your dad watches an old baseball game from his recliner. Joyce smiles at you when you enter. Your dad shows no sign he even realized you wandered into the room. It sends your stomach underground, but you try not to look at him.

“I- I’m going to Steve’s,” you inform them timidly.

Joyce’s eyes dart to your dad. He has no reaction. She looks at you again with another small, sad smile.

“Okay, have fun, sweetie,” she says.

You can't help it. You look. Your dad’s eyes stay fixed on the screen. It’s like you aren’t there at all. A lump rises in your throat, threatening to push out of your mouth as a sob. Even if it's full of rage, you just want him to look at you. He doesn't. You swallow the lump and look at Joyce again, eyes watering.

“R- right, yeah,” you answer half broken.

With one last look at your dad’s stoic face, you go outside to wait for Steve. You’re crying again by the time he gets to you. It takes the whole ride back just to get out one sentence coherent enough for him to understand what happened before you left. I don't care anymore , your dad told you. You didn't realize how much he meant it.

Steve brings you to his room. There you let yourself get lost in Steve beneath his covers. You let him hold you until your tears lull you to sleep. When you wake up an hour later you let him hold you some more. He makes sure you eat, even though you don't care much to. He also makes sure you drink water, something you forgot to do. Steve holds what's left of you together with pins, duck tape, and his two hands. Regardless, you’re still in one piece and for that you're grateful.

“He hates me,” you whisper to Steve in the cover of darkness in his bedroom.

The sun is still up, but the curtains are drawn to keep it out.

“He doesn't hate you,” Steve whispers, rubbing circles into your back as you lay together.

“He won't even look at me, Steve. You heard him last night I-” your voice cracks, “Fuck, I've ruined everything for everyone in the house.”

“Whoa, you haven't ruined anything , okay?” He holds you firmly so you look at him.

You shake your head.

“Are you kidding? Jonathan’s more grounded than I am. El and Will are mostly avoiding everyone so they don't get trapped in any fights. Joyce is stuck between feeling bad for me and my dad hating me. Everything has gone to shit and it’s my fault. It’s always my fault. I shouldn't even be the one that's still here and I’m ruining everything,” you cry.

The comforting shapes Steve draws in your back return. He looks caught between distraught and tired. You immediately feel bad for putting all this on him. You even try to tell him as much, but he stops you.

“I want you to talk to me. I’m happy you're talking to me,” he promises, “but I don't really understand why you think you shouldn't be here.”

You blink away a few tears. Emotion wells up into a swollen ball in your gut.

“I prayed for it to be me,” you admit, “I didn't want Sara… She was always better at bringing my parents together, making everything good again. I’ve never been any good at that. I just mess shit up. It should have been me, not her. Things would be so much better if it was me.”

Tears drip down Steve’s face by the time you're finished. He’s seen you in some dark places, but this is the darkest by far. Still, he’s determined to usher some light back into you. He’ll reach even the furthest corners that haven't been touched by light in years.

“That’s not true,” he says shakily, “I wouldn't be better.”

“Steve, that's not-”

He takes hold of your face tenderly.

“No, you don't get to decide if people are better off without you. I’m sorry about Sara, really I am. It’s awful and it sucks and there's no way to make sense of it, but that doesn't mean it should have been you. I can't imagine what my life would be like without you in it. Actually, yes I can. I’d be miserable, working for my dad, and spending every fucking minute wondering why I couldn't be brave enough to stand up for myself. Because it's you that makes me brave. Even that first time when I came back for Nancy- I didn't take a bat to that Demogorgon because of her. I did it because I saw you there. Because you’re always there when I need you to be. That's why I can't just let you say you don't deserve to be here, or that you shouldn't be. I need you here. I need you here ,” He tells you urgently and earnestly.

You both have tears streaming down your faces by the time he’s done. There aren't any words. At least, none that you have. In lieu of words, you kiss him like your life depends on it. It’s wet and salty, but it's Steve and that's all that matters.

“You really went after that Demogorgon because of me?” You whisper into his lips.

“Well, yeah, I knew your dad would kill me if I didn't,” he jokes lightly.

It draws a laugh from you. You squeeze into him tighter, needing your atoms to merge with his and become one.

“Sounds like it's my dad that makes you brave,” you joke in return.

A laugh rumbles through Steve’s chest against your cheek.

“No, he just scares me. You make me want to be better and do better. You make me want to be the kind of guy that deserves someone like you,” he answers softly.

“You do deserve someone like me, Stevie,” you tell him.

“And you deserve to be here just like anyone else.”

You take a deep breath and let his words sink in. You try to internalize them deeply, ingrain them into your psyche, anything to make sure they stick.

“I love you so much,” you say into his chest.

“I love you so much too,” he says back into your hair.

Steve makes a decision at that moment. He doesn't know what he can say and he might just get himself killed, but he has to talk to your dad. He has to fix this. Steve is determined to make things right for you. He’s going to take care of you like he promised.

<< Rule Two | Epilogue >>

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #hopper!reader #stranger things fic

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astrronomemes · 1 year ago

Text

PERCY JACKSON AND THE LAST OLYMPIAN: STARTERS

a collection of quotes, phrases, and sayings from the 2009 Rick Riordan novel, Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian. change & alter as needed.

"He's trying to be nice to me, which is almost worse."

"So, hypothetically, if these two people liked each other, what would it take to get the stupid guy to kiss the girl, huh?"

"So I guess you guys have to go save the world now."

"You can't count on friends. They will always let you down."

"They don't show you stuff like that in The Little Mermaid."

"He's a pretty nice guy, but you should always keep one hand on your wallet when he's around, and do not, under any circumstances, give him access to shaving cream unless you want to find your sleeping bag full of it."

"If I die, I die. I can't worry about that, right?"

"Are you still having bad dreams? Headaches?"

"I should never have told you about that."

"You run away from things when you're scared."

"You could honor [name]'s memory by fighting with us."

"You can't prevent a prophecy."

"[Name], at least be safe. Promise me you'll be safe."

"If you ever need a warm place to sit and a home-cooked meal, you are welcome to visit."

"You are a good hero, [full name]. Not too proud. I like that. But you have much to learn."

"They don't serve very good enchiladas in the wilderness."

"As I recall, in the old times we almost died a lot."

"Excuse me, but if you're going to kill me, could you just get on with it?"

"With great power comes great need to take a nap. Wake me up later."

"You'll do well, [name]. Just remember your strengths, and beware your weaknesses."

"My family hates me. They don't want me. I ran away."

"I tell you what, [name] — you're pretty fierce. We could use a fighter like you."

"Knives are only for the bravest and quickest fighters. They don't have the reach or power of a sword, but they're easy to conceal and they can find weak spots in your enemy's armor. It takes a clever warrior to use a knife. I have a feeling you're pretty clever."

"You're part of our family now. And I promise I won't let anything hurt you."

"Can we go back to the battle now? I want to do laser mode again. That was fun."

"You should've saved him when you had the chance. You're the only one who could have."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?!"

"[Name], this is serious! You are not going to loot a candy store in the middle of a war!"

"Just be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you. ...I mean, because we need you for the battle."

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, kid? Or are you just extra stupid?"

"Don't I get a kiss for luck? It's kind of a tradition, right?"

"Didn't I kill you already?"

"You're cute when you're worried. Your eyebrows get all scrunched together."

"You are not going to die while I owe you a favor."

"You would have done the same for me."

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

"We'll have to work on your bunny phobia later."

"Oh, demons aren't so bad. You just have to keep them well-fed."

"Your courage does you credit, [full name]."

"The children of the gods must find their own way."

"So it was for my own good? Growing up on the streets, fending for myself, fighting monsters?"

"If I know anything, I know that you must walk your own path, even though it tears my heart."

"I'll bonk him on the head harder next time."

"I don't want him to hurt you anymore."

"And you'll understand if I keep hoping there's a chance you're wrong."

"I didn't know you could fly a helicopter."

"Everybody keeps telling me to sleep. I don't need sleep."

"You know what would help this boy? Farming. Six months behind a plow. Excellent character-building."

"On second thought, I'll be inside."

"That's what I do. I help my friends."

"He promised I was saving lives. Fewer people would get hurt."

"Well... sure good to be together again. Arguing. Almost dying. Abject terror."

"You and me, that wasn't part of it. Our fates aren't intertwined. I think you've always known that, deep down."

"Is it too late to join the party?"

"Do you love death so much you wish to experience it?"

"I hope that was a monster I just killed."

"I survive all those battles, and I get defeated by a stupid chunk of rock?!"

"You were like a brother to me, [name]. But I didn't love you."

"I hope... I hope you know I'm really proud to be your friend."

"No hero is above fear, [name]. And you have risen above every hero."

"Nobody's planning to kill us so far."

"Make us a city for the ages."

"It's just... I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year."

"[Full name], I have had my doubts about you, but perhaps... perhaps I was mistaken."

"[Full name], you might just teach us a thing or two."

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starters #roleplay starters #dialogue prompts #dialogue memes #dialogue starters #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #rp memes #roleplay memes #sentence memes #sentence prompts #sentence starters

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wolfiemcwolferson · 10 months ago

Note

Okay last one i promise 🙏😅

#4 'first conversations alone' + piarles

hi babe, this is one that I was really hoping to get!

Maybe he should have seen it coming. He had been away for two years after all. Of course everything around him had changed, but for some reason, he had kept the thought of Charles in a glass dome.

Charles would be sitting on Pierre's front steps, waiting on Pierre to come outside to run down to the market with him. The two of them would fold right back into their normal banter.

Pierre would come home and he would have Charles.

Somehow he had clung to this even when the two of them had exchanged letters the entire time and Pierre had known that he had presented as an omega.

But that had quickly been popped when Pierre had come home to find no Charles on his doorstep - no Charles waiting for him the next day - no Charles sitting at his family's luncheon table and that's when it had sunk in that Charles was...

Charles and Pierre wouldn't ever get back the relationship they had as children because society dictated their interactions.

Pierre had to be proper.

And he doesn't have time to properly call on Charles the first week he's home. There are too many things to attend to, but he does write him a quick letter - asking if he'll be attending the ball the Sainz family is hosting.

Charles is.

And that's how Pierre finds himself tucked into a corner of the ballroom - clutching a cup - trying to make himself small, because he's not here to find a mate, only here to find Charles.

He hates balls. He hates how busy they are. He hates how they're full of scents. He hates that he's considered an eligible member of society and he can never have any peace.

But, two seconds before he sees him, he smells him. He knows it's Charles because it smells like his childhood. Iced cookies and the sea and lilac and Charles is suddenly there - looking beautiful and grown up.

"Hi," he whispers, and Pierre can't stop himself from reaching out, wrapping his fingers around Charles' wrist and pulling him back and back and back until they're alone in a room and Pierre is slamming the door behind him.

It's wrong and it's improper, but Pierre has taken one look at him. One singular look and he knows that he wasn't interested in anyone else, because -

"You've not even said hello to me yet, petit." Charles huffs, yanking his wrist free. "And now you're going to scandalize our -"

"Hello," Pierre cuts him off, smiling. Leaning away from Charles' body so he doesn't do something insane like lean in and kiss him. He says it softer, "hello."

Charles smiles - wide and happy. "I was expecting you to come call on me. I want to hear all about your school - your travels."

Pierre considers it - calling on Charles. Having to be chaperoned by Pascale or Lorenzo. Unable to touch Charles' wrist or knee the way they had always done. Unable to laugh freely.

"I'll come tomorrow," he promises. "but first, we should go and have a walk in the garden. Get away from all the nosy alphas who want you to dance with them."

Charles blushes, deep and red, and then he grips his own wrist - at the place where Pierre had touched him. "If we get caught, Pierre..."

Pierre half wants them to get caught. He wants them to get caught so he can skip all of this and just marry him.

Because he's sure of that. He's going to marry and mate Charles. Before the end of the season.

"Well," he leans in, whispering, "I suppose if we get caught, we'll just have to get married, won't we?"

Something sharp passes over Charles' face, but it smooths over. A picture of the perfect omega. Passive and agreeable and gentle.

Pierre hates it. And he knows that it's something ridiculous that society has instilled in him and Pierre will be responsible for stamping it out of him.

"Come now, Charles." Pierre holds his arm out for Charles to take. "Some time in the garden will fix us right up and I'll tell you about my friend Alex who made a fool of himself in front of a group of omega's who were visiting the art museum."

Charles slips his hand into the crook of Pierre's elbow. "I think I would like to see the art museum."

Pierre keeps himself from offering to escort him.

Not yet.

Not in this first conversation - he'll court him first. Properly and thoroughly and then he'll ask for his hand in marriage.

And then he'll give him the world.

Pierre is glad that Charles does not exist in that glass dome anymore.

He much prefers this. Even if it took one singular conversation.

#daily piarles ficlet #to keep the sads away #piarles #omegaverse #vague historical au

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melis-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Moth to Flame (Part II) [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 41 – The Calm Before the Storm.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 40 / Chapter Masterlist. / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

"Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it." / “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not."

Your return back home to Lake Tahoe isn't marked without grudges, resent and guilt from others that you may have already set aside. What was once seeing as attention seeking, insignificant behavior threatens to create a rift between marriage but the truth is yet to be revealed. You want nothing more than to move on with your life, away from your mother and Fredo's death and any possibility increased tensions from rivalling mafia families but from what you believed was done for everybody's good has already sealed your fate.

[WARNINGS]: Mentions & themes of prostitution / Strip teasing / Heavy fluff / Touching & kissing / Nipple play & teasing.

[AUTHOR'S NOTE]: A new chapter of Moth to Flame is finally here!! 😭❤️ I can't believe it's been about ~2 months since I last updated?! Since I'm focused on fic uploads/writing only at the moment, I'm looking forward to a lot more frequent and back to back updates for you guys. 🥴 Better late than never! Michael and Victoria's story continues, or should I say in this chapter that also means Sonny and Sandra's? 👀 Drama, drama, drama...! It was definitely coming, and now it's going to build into something spiralling completely out of control. We need to focus on baby Vincent and the twins' cuteness above all. 😂😍

1956. Your name is Victoria Ferrari Corleone, and you’re the wife of the most powerful mobster in North America–Michael Corleone. A lifestyle of crime and secrecy is all you've known and ever wanted to know, complimenting the cruelty of Michael Corleone's influence in the United States. With your enemies fallen before you and all loose ends tied up, you continue your life and marriage with the Corleone family while refusing to look back on your past. Yet it's the skeletons in your closet that a shine a light on revealing you're a true mafiosa. Ensnared in the shadows just as much as Michael is, you find yourself betrayed by the unexpected with all of your secrets ready to spill–especially ones you've hidden from Michael. With more than one pair of eyes watching your every move, you find yourself trapped amidst potential scandals and a familiar, lovesick secret admirer adamant on removing Michael out of the picture to have you all to himself. Like a moth to a flame, you've reached the point of no return and the light that breaks down the darkness threatens to take you next.

[ Lake Tahoe Compound, 7:00 AM ]

From the moment you came to rest your head upon your pillow and snuggle up in your own bed next to your husband at home, every thought, concern, and memory of what occurred in Las Vegas has left not only yours but Michael’s mind as well.

From a well-deserved good night’s sleep in pure relaxation, Michael and you have awoken shortly before seven in the morning to start your day and spend it with the family—taking a break from traveling and business.

“Okay, baby,” you run your hands through your hair gently to smoothen it down, moving towards the shower. “I’m going to wake up the children and get them ready for breakfast.”

Michael pulls back the shower curtain to peek his head out; his soaked hair sticking to his temples and droplets of water dribbling down from his lips and chin. “Alright, darling.”

You blush, leaning over and pecking a kiss over Michael’s wet lips. “I’ll see you downstairs in a minute.”

Just from leaning over towards the hot shower, Michael’s having, you can already feel the warm steam from the running water mixing in with the heavenly scent of Michael’s body surrounding you with that kiss.

Michael prefers to shower first thing in the morning on his days off whereas if he has business to tend to or places to be, he’ll do so at the end of his day like you.

It may be a day off for both of you, but the same doesn’t apply to the twins who have half a day’s worth of tutoring and studying awaiting them.

As you walk out of your bedroom and down the hallway, you step into the nursery room to check on baby Vincent first thing.

As you and Esther have left it, the nursery door remains open so you can both easily hear Vincent’s crying or stirring from his sleep.

Taking a quick look in, you see baby Vincent still curled up in his crib sleeping soundly; bringing a smile to your lips.

Moving a bit further down the hallway, you quietly open the door to Niccolo and Verona’s bedrooms side by side with one another before stepping into each one and gently nudging the children’s shoulders before giving them a kiss on the cheek.

“Niccolo, Verona, good morning. It’s time to wake up, you two!”

“Mmmmm…” Verona squirms in her bed, stretching out her arms. “I’m…awake.”

“Sleepy,” Niccolo groans back from his room, sitting up in his bed. “It’s morning already?”

“It is,” you chuckle, stepping back out into the hallway. “Good morning to both of you.”

“Where’s daddy?” Verona pulls herself out of bed, rubbing her eyes.

“He’s showering right now but will join us for breakfast soon,” you gesture to the two as they put on their slippers. “Come on, honey. Let’s get you two washed up and ready to start the day. I think your little brother is…” You squint your eyes, peeking into the nursery room again. “Still asleep.”

“Vincent is very sleepy,” Verona giggles, skipping to the estate’s second bathroom with her brother.

“I say that too and then the next moment, he’s suddenly awake and staring at us,” you laugh to yourself, following the twins.

“Minty fresh,” Verona picks up her toothbrush with Niccolo, smearing a modest amount of toothpaste over it before handing it to her brother and staying by the sink.

“Mhmm,” you pick up Verona’s hairbrush, standing behind her. “And how would you like your hair styled today, sweetie? Any ideas?”

“I really like the pigtails we did last week, mama,” Verona beams, beginning to brush her teeth. “With the red ribbons!”

“Ooh, of course,” you step back to open one of the bathroom cabinets, taking two silky, red ribbon ties and slipping them over your wrist. “Pigtails for today it is.”

“Mama, are you gonna tell us about your trip?” Niccolo asks curiously, wetting his toothbrush.

“Ya, like—” Verona covers her toothpaste-filled mouth, “if it’s really fun flying on an airplane!”

“I never thought about it that way,” you smile at the two, styling through Verona’s hair. “Honestly, I haven’t really been thinking of the trip. It wasn’t anything for fun, after all, otherwise, we would have taken you too.”

“Yeah,” Niccolo agrees, looking at himself in the mirror as he begins to brush his teeth. “Daddy had work.”

“And I always get sleepy and tired on plane rides, even if where we’re going isn’t too far away,” you admit sheepishly, tying up one ponytail over Verona’s hair.

“Mama gets too cozy,” Verona laughs, “I would too! Las Vegas is close to home, right mama?”

“It is,” you nod back, “so it wasn’t too bad to travel there. Your father and I just wanted to get home as soon as we could.”

“Why, mama?” Verona continues asking.

You pause for a moment, continuing to brush through her hair. “Because it was dull and boring, all for work and business for your daddy. We had to get it done though, but I won’t say I had fun.”

“That’s fair, mama,” Niccolo agrees. “Maybe it’ll be fun if we come.”

“Maybe,” you tie up the second pigtail over Verona’s hair. “You guys want to go on a vacation soon?”

“Soon, yes!” Verona exclaims, moving to rinse out her mouth by the sink.

“We absolutely will,” you take out a tin of hair gel from the cabinet, moving to style and brush through Niccolo’s hair next. “Your daddy and I were thinking of it. I can’t remember the last time we took you guys to Sicily, you know. You were both just little babies.”

“Yes, please!” Verona giggles through rinsing her mouth.

“I wanna go too,” Niccolo chimes in, “Grandma and Grandpa always talk about Sicily.”

“You won’t have to wait too long then,” you plant a kiss over Niccolo’s head before combing through his hair. “Your daddy wants to go just as much as we all do, and maybe you guys can remind him today too, hmm?”

“I will for sure,” Verona turns off the tap, grabbing a face towel. “I wanna go and visit!”

“Me too,” Niccolo slowly moves towards the sink so you can continue styling the gel carefully through his hair while he rinses his mouth out. “We all go with Daddy!”

“He’ll be downstairs in just a minute,” you glance out towards the hallway, “let’s both get you dressed so we can meet Daddy downstairs.”

Turning off the water, Michael pulls back the shower curtain and gives out a deep breath—letting the hot steam of the shower surround him as he squeezes out the excess water from his hair.

Michael rakes a hand through his wet hair, slicking it away from his face before he steps out of the shower and reaches to grab a body towel.

Wrapping the towel around his waist securely, Michael takes a separate towel to ruffle through his hair as he approaches the foggy sink.

Wiping his hand over the mirror to clear it, Michael notices a bit of his stubble is growing through and opens the cabinet behind the bathroom mirror to grab his razor and a tube of shaving cream.

Standing in front of the sink, Michael begins to modestly lather shaving cream over his cheeks and jawline, faintly being able to hear the sound of you and the children heading downstairs for breakfast.

Carefully yet in swift, quick motions, Michael shaves without a single nick or cut over his skin; rinsing off his face before applying a cooling aftershave balm.

Michael continues to press the towel down through his hair thoroughly to soak up as much moisture as he can before he combs through it neatly and reaches for his tin of hair gel.

Barely being able to tell that his hair is still damp, Michael begins to thoroughly apply the gel and slick his hair back from the middle; keeping it neat without a single strand loose and out of place.

Michael then makes his way into the bedroom, drying himself off with his towel before picking out a pair of grey briefs, a white dress shirt you ironed for Michael the other day with a pair of black slacks, a matching waistcoat, white socks, and a tie.

Setting aside his suit jacket, Michael doesn't intend to wear it in the comfort of his own home knowing he won't have business or guests to entertain today—no exceptions regardless of how "urgent" others may consider it to be, but Michael's also never been lazy or sloppy when it comes to his choice of attire no matter the occasion or time.

Spraying cologne over his neck and collarbone, Michael walks out of the bedroom and shuts the door behind him, looking forward to spending the entirety of his day with his family and only his family; perhaps limited in interaction with Sonny for now as Michael's internal annoyance and irritation still cool.

Michael especially wishes to spend the vast majority of his time with you and the children more than anything else; missing his children but also knowing he didn't get to spend much quality time with you in Las Vegas either, aside from last-minute lovemaking in the evening.

Michael first approaches Vincent's nursery before heading downstairs, seeing the crib is empty but the sounds of his baby son babbling downstairs from the kitchen.

The scent of Michael's cologne comes down before you even sense your husband's presence or see him; in the kitchen with baby Vincent sitting in his baby seat close to you and by the dining table with his older siblings.

Verona and Niccolo sit across from each other and surround Vincent, smiling and distracting their little baby brother with a handful of toys as you get to preparing breakfast.

"He's so tiny," Verona giggles to herself, handing Vincent a toy he dropped. "Teeny tiny!"

Vincent smiles up at his siblings aimlessly, very receptive to laughter and positive voices surrounding him.

"He is a tiny little guy, isn't he?" You chuckle, dressed in a burgundy shirtwaist dress with a pair of house flats on; standing by the stove and preparing breakfast.

While you've just picked up on Michael's cologne signaling he's nearby, Michael's taken in the scent of breakfast being cooked while coming down to the kitchen.

In a pan, you sautee together chopped pieces of bacon, Italian sausage crumble, grated mozzarella and cheddar, green pepper, mushrooms, and small broccoli florets.

You reach into the egg carton next to you on the counter, setting three eggs aside.

Michael leans against the doorway, taking in the delicious scent of the meat and vegetables being sauteed and feeling the warm spring breeze coming from the back door flow into the kitchen.

Distracted, you crack three eggs into the frittata you're making, disposing of the eggshells in the little trashcan next to you and giving your hands a quick rinse in the sink.

Michael gazes at you with intrigue, watching you quickly your wrist moves to whisk in the eggs quickly into the frittata and reach for a carton of cream from the refrigerator.

Michael's eyes admire the way your hips move, how your dress adorns your body, and every inch of you in nothing but pure adoration.

Already having noticed their father from afar standing by quietly, the twins giggle amongst each other in reaction; very clearly aware as to how their father is lovingly appreciating their mother behind her back.

"Good morning," you hear Michael's velvety voice call out from behind; causing your heart to race just like that.

"Good morning, Daddy!" The twins chime in together.

"Aaa," Vincent shakes his rattling toy aimlessly, unsure why the sudden upbeat enthusiasm is coming from his siblings but just happy to join in on it.

"Good morning, darling," you turn around blushing, seeing a small smile over Michael's lips.

"Aaa!" Vincent raises his voice in excitement, waving around his toy.

"I think he says good morning too, Daddy," Niccolo laughs.

"I believe so," Michael walks into the kitchen, leaning down to scoop up three-month-old Vincent in his arms. "Hello, little man. He's awake early."

"He is," you agree, carefully putting the pan into the preheated oven. "He's being so good this morning despite waking so early, though. Not a fuss made, just babbling little conversations to himself and his siblings."

"He likes to talk," Verona points out, waving at her baby brother in Michael's arms.

Vincent aimlessly stares at Michael, sticking out his little tongue before bumping his head against Michael's temple lightly. "Aa...."

"But how old will Vincent be when he can talk to us, Daddy?" Niccolo asks, sitting upright.

"Almost two years old, I'd say," Michael replies, rubbing Vincent's back in lazy circles gently.

"What?!" Verona gasps.

"Two years?!" Niccolo lets out a deep sigh, "That's gonna take forever!"

"Well, what did you think, honey?" You let out a laugh, setting out jars of homemade grape, strawberry, and raspberry jam from the cabinet.

"Sooner?" Niccolo shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, "Maybe it takes one year!"

"Far too soon," Michael shakes his head as you take out three little bowls to put equal varieties of jam in. "Even the two of you weren't talking in a year. Just a few words here and there."

"Really?" Verona's eyes widen with intrigue.

"Really," you smile back at her, "and you both will get to see Vincent grow up right in front of your eyes so you'll understand."

Niccolo looks up to see baby Vincent clutching his tiny grip over the fabric of Michael's waistcoat, distracted by the texture against his skin.

You set out the selections of jam over the dining table, moving back to the stove. "If it's one thing you all share like your baby brother, it's that none of you could stop grabbing and touching daddy's tie or clothes."

"But Daddy wears Italian silk suits, right?" Verona speaks up.

"That I do," Michael answers, walking towards the back door with Vincent to get some fresh air; amused by Vincent's distraction towards his waistcoat.

"So it's very soft!" Verona exclaims.

"Oh, ya," Niccolo adds, "and very fancy."

"Very," you laugh with them, "Vincent is the master of fancy fabrics."

“He knows he likes his suits,” Michael cracks a rare joke, carefully stepping out into the courtyard as Vincent excitedly rattles his toy in his free hand.

You move the mixing bowl containing ricotta pancake batter over to the stove, adding a small amount to the hot pan and watching it spread into shape. “Almost ready for breakfast!”

“Can I help, mama?” Verona hops off her seat.

“Sure, darling,” you gesture to one of the kitchen cupboards. “We have some biscotti in there. Could you please take some out and set them out on the plate here? We can have some with jam this morning.”

“Okay!” Verona nods, doing as she’s told. “Tasty jam. I help Mama.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” you smile down at her, glancing up momentarily to see Michael slowly pacing around the courtyard with Vincent in his arms.

Vincent snuggles onto his father’s shoulder, chewing on his rattle toy while peeking around the sight of nature around him.

“We’re almost done here…” Distracted, you flip the pancake over carefully and keep the sizes of the others at a consistent size and thickness.

You glance at the other pan of food still steaming hot on the other side of the stove—Italian sausage and eggs—taking note of everything to get ready.

“Smells so good, mama,” Niccolo looks over to the stove giddily, eyeing the homemade marinara sauce smothered amid the Italian sausage and poached eggs. “My favorite!”

“A favorite of daddy’s too,” you add, beginning to set the silverware and plates out on the dining table.

Niccolo gets up from his seat, helping his sister reach into the cupboard and taking as many cups as he can with him towards the dining table to help out.

“Perfect, thank you two,” you rub Niccolo and Verona’s shoulders—looking towards the backdoor. “I’ll get Daddy and Vincent in otherwise they’ll be out there forever.”

The twins giggle amongst each other as you step out into the courtyard, taking in a breath of the fresh spring air to see your husband walking around the center of the backyard and kissing Vincent’s cheek.

“Hi, baby,” unable to wipe the growing smile off of your face, you approach both of them.

“Hello, darling,” Michael turns around to face you as you lean up, pecking a sweet kiss over your husband’s lips.

Michael kisses back, gazing at you. “Is breakfast ready?”

“Mhmm, it is,” you gently squish Vincent’s chubby cheek, gesturing for them to follow inside. “Everything’s ready and we’re waiting for you two to come join us! I wonder if this little man is hungry.”

“I think so, considering how he’s been chewing on every toy I give him,” Michael chuckles quietly, taking your hand with his free one before following you back inside the estate.

Sitting by herself in her family estate across a small distance from yours, Sandra rests her cheek upon her fist and gives out a glum sigh to herself. The day has practically just started; just the morning after you, Michael, and Sonny’s arrival back home from Las Vegas.

Naturally, Sandra understands how exhausted her husband may be from travel. Sonny’s always felt worn out one way or another with long road trips and plane rides, regardless of how far or close his destination is.

Jet lag has never done any good for Sonny who prefers to rest it off by sleeping in much more than he may normally do when given the chance instead of taking naps throughout the day, and a shot or two of whiskey here and there never hurt to keep his mind sharp throughout it.

No different than any other time, Sonny slumped into bed last night tired and with a pounding headache. The only thing he did before falling asleep just a moment after taking a shot of whiskey and mumbling, “I’m exhausted,” to Sandra.

When it comes to Sonny, Sandra’s more than aware that’s her husband’s normal behavior hence why she didn’t question it.

Come to think of it with Sandra’s mind on nothing else but what a lonely morning she woke up to, she’s come to realize Sonny was rather dismissive and even a little cold towards her.

Still, knowing how much of a grumpy, sarcastic mood Sonny can get in when he’s tired and hungry, Sandra lets it be as it is.

She neither minds waking up alone nor having Sonny sleep in especially after travel, but having the children go off to the governess first thing in the morning and have breakfast by herself after being alone for a few days, the loneliness and lack of companionship hits Sandra hard.

It was after Sandra finished breakfast and began cleaning up that Sonny woke up abruptly and couldn’t fall back asleep.

Instead of letting Sandra know or greeting his wife, Sonny took a hot shower which Sandra overheard then fixed himself a drink of gin and tonic for breakfast which came off as somewhat odd to Sandra.

Sandra’s already guessing something is up with Sonny since it seems as if he’s practically avoiding her but she can’t make any sense of it.

Rising from her seat on the couch, Sandra frowns and looks around the quiet, empty house—wishing she could at least spend some time with Sonny and ask him how his trip went. After all, Sandra knows everyone else is spending time with their families and enjoying breakfast together right now except her.

Feeling left out and alone, suspicion slowly begins to grow over Sandra who begins to approach Sonny’s study, knowing he’s in there from the ruffling sound of newspapers and Sonny setting down his drink.

From the ajar door, Sandra sees her husband sitting over a leather armchair with his ankle crossed over and resting on his leg—reading through a newspaper.

“Sonny?” Sandra places her hand over the door, peeking in with concern over her expression.

Sonny purposefully takes a few extra seconds to react, looking up at Sandra with boredom and slight irritation. “Huh? Yeah, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to check up on you,” Sandra replies, frowning. “You missed breakfast.”

“Yeah, I know,” Sonny grunts, stretching out his arms. “I was tired.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, I had something to eat already,” Sonny says, returning his attention back to the newspaper in his hands.

Sandra remains quiet, standing by the door for a moment; she knows Sonny has nothing else to say to her nor does he even want to carry a conversation with Sandra right now, but she can’t understand why Sonny’s acting the way he is now.

“What?” Sonny asks after a moment, growing more tense.

“Nothing,” Sandra murmurs, turning around and shutting the office door behind her.

Heading into the foyer, Sandra puts her Mary-Janes on and exits the estate. She makes her way to what used to be Fredo and Deanna’s shared estate, now belonging to Connie and Leo.

Knowing the only one she can confide in over her brother’s behavior that isn’t spending time with family or is occupied this morning is Connie, Sandra hopes to herself that her sister-in-law can ease her overthinking and offer some advice.

If it’s anyone who knows Sonny and his antics well and on a much different level than a brother would, it’s Sonny’s own sister—Connie. Besides, Sandra doesn’t at all feel up to bothering anyone else like you or Theresa whose shy, reserved, and put off by Sonny’s behavior to begin with.

Deanna on the other hand is in Hollywood shooting a film with Johnny Fontane, but her relationship with Sonny is just as limited as Theresa’s.

‘Then again..’ Sandra glances over in the direction of your estate. ‘There’s Victoria.’

Immediately, Sandra’s mind goes back to the events of what occurred in New York whether she wants to remember it or not; seeing Sonny with blood gushing out of his nose, swelling, and puffiness reaching his eyes all bleeding and bruised when Michael confronted him about why he made a move on you.

Like the others, Sandra was also under the impression Sonny went to New York to check on you and the twins. Everyone assumed Sonny would also bring news to Tom or Michael, but only those two and Sonny knew what was really going on and why you left for New York in the first place.

Sonny never told Sandra why you were in New York to begin with as everyone knew how personal the reason was and would prefer to forget it all entirely.

While Sandra doesn’t know the whole story of the whys and hows of New York, she does know that Michael refused to speak with Sonny for an entire month let alone have him remotely near you because Sonny kissed you and attempted to seduce you in New York.

Sandra unfortunately knows she’ll never not be jealous when thinking of everything that happened, but it’s toned down over time and her emotions don’t get as strong over remembering it either.

Sandra also knows you didn’t kiss Sonny back or pull a move on him. She figures as she’s heard from you and your reaction that you must’ve been nothing but shocked and disgusted; Sonny’s your brother-in-law after all and you would never do that to Sandra, let alone ever to Michael.

At that point, time was the only remedy for everything that had happened. You felt somewhat alienated from Sonny as a result for a little while and Sandra witnessed that herself.

Still, despite apologizing to you and hearing your side of the story, Sandra can never truly live down her guilt and shame of how she embarrassed herself by talking down to you at your mother’s funeral.

Sandra swallows her remaining, stinging jealousy down but not her pride. She doesn’t want to talk to you at all regarding Sonny; it’ll do nothing but rouse her imagination the wrong way about her husband.

Instead, Sandra continues to go up to Sandra’s estate with the hopes that her sister-in-law can offer her advice and lift her spirits or at the very least that Connie can tell her anything she knows about the trip to Las Vegas.

Of course, Sandra plans to speak with you later in the afternoon and hear more about how you are and how the trip went, but Sandra’s concern right now doesn’t have anything to do with the actual traveling or Las Vegas; Sandra’s only concern is Santino.

It’s not unusual for the gateways, doors, and balconies of individual estates on the Lake Tahoe compound to be left open during the day although high security is guaranteed twenty-four hours a day throughout the entire week.

It only signifies that your family isn’t busy, away from the compound, or seeking privacy, and is welcome to anyone popping by, hence why Connie’s estate door is left wide open this morning.

Sandra also knows Leo is currently away in New York at the moment, traveling back and forth from the state to Nevada with and for Connie when time and business permits.

From the moment Sandra enters Connie’s estate, Connie and Mama Corleone in the kitchen already pick up on the sound of someone’s kitten heels clacking against the mahogany floorboards and she guesses it’s either Sandra or Theresa purely based on shoe choice.

In the kitchen, Connie prepares a pot of black tea, chatting away with Carmela about her next planned trip to New York with Leonardo just as Sandra enters the kitchen—smiling sheepishly and hugging her own arms.

“Hi, honey,” Mama Corleone’s eyes light up at the sight of Sandra.

“Hey, Sandra,” Connie greets, turning to face her sister-in-law. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Sandra says back, glancing around the kitchen uneasily. “Done breakfast so soon?”

“Oh, we just finished up a few moments ago. Did you?” Mama Corleone peeks at her.

“Mm,” Sandra nods, “I had a short one. I just sent off the kids to their studies and that’s that,” she lets out a soft sigh, realizing that if she remains here and talks like this that it invites Mama Corleone to stay and listen too.

Naturally, Sandra has no issue with Mama Corleone consoling her or giving her advice but at this point, Sandra’s far too embarrassed to talk to her mother-in-law about Sonny again and again.

“Actually, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you, Connie?”

“Of course,” Connie agrees, exchanging a glance with Mama Corleone.

“I’ll see you girls at lunch then,” completely understanding, Carmela smiles at her girls before she begins to make her way out of the kitchen. “Take care!”

“Bye mama,” Sandra calls back out before facing Connie once more and seeing the concern growing over her sister-in-law’s face.

“There’s that look in your eyes again,” Connie points out, taking out another tea cup. “Let me get you something to drink first, honey. Go on, have a seat. I already know.”

“Thank you,” Sandra murmurs, closing the kitchen door behind her before taking a seat at the dining table.

Connie pours two cups of steaming, black tea and takes a tiny bowl holding sugar cubes and small stirring spoons over to the dining table, sitting across from her sister-in-law. “I could tell just by the way you walked in here that something had to be wrong.”

“I wish I could prove you wrong,” Sandra says glumly, “never been the greatest at hiding my annoyances, have I? Thank you,” Sandra pulls her teacup over the table to herself with two sugar cubes.

“You and me both,” Connie chuckles, letting out a deep breath. “What is it? What’s troubling you? Go on, I want all the details.”

“I didn’t wanna make it a big deal because I don’t know what’s going on,” Sandra begins, staring at her tea.

“You always say that,” Connie points out, raising her brows.

“I know,” Sandra whines quietly. “But it’s Sonny.”

“What about him? Or do I even need to ask?” Connie rolls her eyes, “what’s he gone off to do this time?”

Sandra blinks, unable to come up with an immediate response. “It’s his trip. Sonny came back from Vegas with Michael and Victoria…”

“Mhmm,” Connie nods, listening.

“He was exhausted when he got home, so he wanted to go to bed right away which is fine—” Sandra shakes her head, “he had a drink before, didn’t talk to me or the children whatsoever, and just went straight to bed.”

“Huh,” Connie notes, “exhausted, then?”

“Yeah, he was,” Sandra answers.

“I didn’t see him as ‘exhausted’,” Connie stares back at her. “That’s a bit of an overstatement now isn’t it?”

“You saw him last night?” Sandra raises a brow, knowing all Sonny did was barge right into the estate the minute he grabbed his luggage from the car and wasted no time in doing so.

“Yeah, Sonny barged in here all annoyed and asking for whiskey. I’d say he was more grouchy than ‘exhausted’. He definitely had more than enough energy to march in here like that.”

“That’s not what I saw or heard,” anxiety begins to spike up in Sandra. “I mean… Sonny told me he was tired and going to bed—I didn’t get another word out of him after that. He finished his drink and went to sleep—whatever. Slept in for two more hours this morning and it’s like he missed breakfast on purpose because I swear to you, just as I finished cleaning up and sent off the kids to the governess, he awoke. Sonny didn’t say a word to me, didn’t come in to eat anything. He just made himself a gin and tonic—I don’t get it. He’s being so cold to me, this isn’t normal. He’s completely disinterested in anything I have to say. It’s like every time I try to approach him, I annoy him.”

Connie takes a sip of her tea, pursing her lips. “Victoria didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what, Connie?” The tip of Sandra’s ears and the nape of her neck prickle hot with brimming anxiety. “I haven’t spoken to her since before she left. I thought I would after lunch today.”

“I saw Victoria briefly before she went in last night,” Connie tells her, “just made some small talk—asked her how the trip went and if she needed anything because if anyone was exhausted, it was her. I may as well tell you,” Connie shrugs her shoulders, “though I’m not sure if it’ll surprise you or be something you haven’t heard before.”

“Why?” Sandra’s throat tightens as she mixes her sugar cubes inside her tea.

“I mean, they went to Las Vegas, Sandra,” Connie licks over her lips, “Sonny wasn’t exactly there for ‘business’.”

“I see,” Sandra mumbles to herself, looking far more distraught than Connie expects.

“Okay, you let him off the hook too much, honey,” Connie sighs, shaking her head. “He just goes left, right, and center and he’s been doing that since we were teenagers. Sonny’s excuse is that you let him and it’s disgusting. I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“I never really let him do ‘anything’,” Sandra rakes a hand through her hair, letting out a shaky sigh. “Sonny can barely control himself. It’s how he is, how he always was. You know our marriage didn’t change him and neither did having kids. His dick has a mind of its own.”

“Yeugh,” Connie fake gags, brushing off the comment. “I know, trust me.”

“But what does Victoria have to do with this?” Sandra holds back the growing emotion in the back of her throat.

“It’s not that, Sandra, relax,” Connie lets out a soft laugh, “relax! She’s just as mad as you, honestly. Victoria was scolding Sonny the whole trip. She won’t talk to him, she said. He must have pissed her off real good this time.”

“Because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself?” Sandra suggests.

“When it comes to Rita Duvall, definitely,” Connie rolls her eyes with a scoff.

“Rita,” Sandra repeats. “Rita? Are you serious?”

“Mhmm,” Connie appears somewhat amused towards Sandra’s irritated reaction upon the mention of Rita Duvall’s name. “Now that’s two negative reactions whenever that woman’s name is mentioned. I guess you know a bit about our favorite dancer and mistress extraordinaire outside Victoria’s personal grudge towards her?”

“Do I?” Sandra scowls, “I’ve had my fair share of tugging Sonny’s ear about that whore.”

“Yeah?”

Sandra takes in a deep breath, only growing much more irate. “She’s a good-for-nothing whore. Everything she does is for attention and on purpose. She and Sonny—they… The fucking chemistry they have—” Sandra’s eyes begin to tear up as her voice shakes. “How could I not fucking hate her? I can’t stand her or her whorish antics, tricks, and shows—whatever the hell she does. She’s nothing but eye candy, a pleaser and Sonny loves it. She’s exactly what he wants, you know?”

“Sandra—”

“Sonny won’t fuck an honest woman the way he loves to fuck his whores,” Sandra’s eyes pool with tears, “She’d look me in the eye and do my husband if she could, but that’s not exclusive, right? It’s not that hard to have Sonny head over heels for you, it’s just impossible for me and I’m his wife. It wasn’t impossible for Victoria.”

“Hey,” Connie interrupts sharply, placing her hands over the top of Sandra’s. “Honey, it’s okay. It’s alright. No, I get what you mean completely but Victoria doesn’t have Sonny wrapped around her finger. Don’t say that.”

“H-how am I supposed to know?” Sandra breaks down in tears, weeping. “Everyone can have my husband but me! So I don’t have a choice, Connie. I have to suspect everyone and I hate her. I hate Rita and I hate anyone like her!”

[ 6 Months Earlier: Las Vegas, Nevada ]

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to welcome the night of your life where filthy sin and heavenly lust collide; where lines of love and arousal blur to please you! This is a night to remember and accept splendor and entertainment with the one and only, Miss Rita Duvall!”

The glistening silver curtains encrusted in crystals flutter about over the stage, reflecting over the polished, white marble stage to reveal Rita behind—slowly spinning in a life-size bird cage made of solid gold, decorated in the same dazzling crystals and diamonds.

Wearing silk, red gloves with diamonds adorning her fingers, Rita’s strawberry blonde hair is curled over her shoulders—bringing attention to the sparkling ruby necklace upon her collarbone, the smokey makeup over her eyes, and cherry red lipstick matching the fiery, scarlet shade of red she wears in a sleeveless bodysuit decorated with the same precious gems and rubies.

Much like a Vegas showgirl’s classic bodysuit, Rita stands out as the star of the show with a mock peacock tail affixed to the back of her costume; real feathers dipped in crimson dye with matching six-inch stilettos over her feet.

Background dancers dressed similarly to Rita but without distracting away from having her become the center of attention and swirl about the stage, dancing, and grouping together to slide and push the birdcage towards the middle of the stage.

Gasps from the crowd mesmerized in awe come from around the room, erupting in cheer and applause which Sonny joins; seated in the second row at the very front of the stage with Michael and Leonardo.

Close enough to practically smell Rita’s perfume, Sonny’s eyes are fixated on her as Rita blows out kisses to the crowd, swaying her hips over the cushioned seat inside the life-size birdcage.

Michael ignores anything and everything to do with the show entirely, effectively blocking it out while focusing on his dinner and keeping an eye on the time to anticipate when all of this nonsense will be over and his business partner will come to meet him.

Amongst all of their family, colleagues, and business partners, Michael and Leonardo remain to be the odd ones out with no interest in erotic shows, brothels, or mistresses for their own reasons; Michael’s being quite self-explanatory knowing him.

Leonardo on the other hand has always been indifferent to it; it’s not so much that he minds such entertainment and opportunities, but he chooses to have nothing to do with them.

In the middle of a show like this where it’s hard to ignore what’s going on—let alone the performers themselves—Leonardo can appreciate that it’s a form of entertainment enjoyed by many, and that’s all he’ll take it as without making it personal.

While Michael can hide his dislike and annoyance for anything without effort, Leonardo can’t hold back from having his expression show exactly how he feels. Since Leonardo initiated a relationship with Connie—now his fiancé—he feels all the more disinterested and uncomfortable.

Performers, dancers, prostitutes, and showgirls like Rita and Rita herself are a hot commodity amongst rich businessmen, politicians, and influential men seeking entertainment and companionship so there’s never a gap in bookings and demand.

‘It’s not her entertainment skills or whoring that’s her “talent” either. She’s ‘talented’, alright, but in ways you wouldn’t imagine.’

Aroused by how little he’s seen already, Sonny eyes Rita’s plump thighs—admiring how the color red matches her vigor and passion on stage.

Rita grinds her hips, dancing sensually around the bars of the birdcage slowly to show off every inch of her body.

‘There’s a million Rita Duvalls. Give any cocktail waitress or Vegas showgirl a big enough gig and she’ll do what she does best, but Rita wants more. Nothing is ever enough for her.’

Sonny whistles under his breath, momentarily capturing Michael’s attention who looks up at the stage for only a split second to see Rita look in their direction and lick up one of the bars.

Unphased, Michael immediately looks away once more with zero intention of even glancing up for a moment to the stage again whereas Sonny can hardly hold back his throbbing erection.

‘I don’t know if she has issues of her own or if she’s a narcissist who gets high off all the attention, but Rita wouldn’t look anyone in the eye who can’t give her what she wants. She can only entertain for so long until she catches the eye of somebody who finds her the most irresistible of the night.’

Michael is no stranger to such forms of entertainment. Half the time Michael travels for business or is meeting with his business partners at any time, some sort of similar entertainment is almost always provided.

Usually, however, the nature of the entertainment isn’t solely erotic or anything like this, let alone with a face Michael recognizes.

Michael’s aware tonight’s show harbors on pure erotica, but later on in the evening, he’s also bound to discover it’s a sex show later on.

Sonny wouldn’t miss this level of entertainment for the world, always preferring to mix pleasure with business and never considering himself as dull as his younger brother.

Michael can and will purposefully miss any shows of obscenity and promiscuity. Nothing gets to him not just because Michael’s interest in such entertainment is low, but rather that it’s nonexistent.

Michael’s business colleagues would die in the face of boredom if they did business the way Michael did; long meetings face-to-face in silence for hours with nothing but relevant talk.

‘Rita has the first pick of the best venues. Rita won’t perform somewhere she knows money won’t roll in. Businessmen, investors, politicians—think of the wealthiest, most influential men. That’s why she’s there.’

Pleasure in business is seen as a casual thing by most mafiosi; some even talk business at brothels rather than anywhere else.

None of it particularly bothers Michael to a personal extent, but he can certainly count on his fingers how many mafiosi he knows that don’t indulge in such entertainment: himself, Vito—his father—and Leonardo, his brother-in-law.

‘Rita knows her audience. Married, usually middle-aged men with a wife and kids at home… Talking about what an honest woman can’t give him.’

Rita is all flair and style—what she’s known for better than anyone else in Las Vegas. Using all of her stage props and background effects to dance and sing at the same time, she puts on a show to remember for tonight.

Interacting with the crowd is just another act Rita intends on doing tonight, something that immediately spiked your dislike for her when Rita first tried it with Michael at a family event with children present; despite being an adult performer, Rita knew what she signed up for and willingly crossed those boundaries after all.

‘She’s far from being honest and she knows it. She uses these men for arm candy, influence, reputation, and above all—sex and money. They make for the best kind of blackmail. She’s made that obvious enough.’

Rita doesn’t have any boundaries and she doesn’t feel the need to either. Rita offers what she does and has a “take it or leave it policy”, asking if everyone else loves it, why don’t you?

Michael checks the time on his watch again as Rita parts away from the birdcage and begins to dance to the tune of a sultry, slow sogn upon the stage; making sure the feathers on her bodysuit bounce and shake with every move.

It’s then and there that Michael notices just how absolutely fixated Sonny is on Rita, mindlessly staring at her.

Michael doesn’t need to look up to Rita to see why, but his brother’s blatant arousal and unprofessionalism are beginning to irritate Michael; all Sonny’s been doing the entirety of the trip is paying attention to nothing but women. “Let me know when you decide to attend business for business one of these days.”

“Relax, Mikey,” Sonny chuckles, looking away from Rita for the first time since the show started. “I’m enjoying the show, she’s performing, I don’t wanna let it go to waste. I don’t get you two.”

Leonardo looks up from his plate, biting into a piece of steak. “Why’s that?”

“Well, never mind, I guess,” Sonny grins, “I’m not saying anything towards you. You’re engaged to my sister.”

‘She’s no performer, dancer, entertainer, or whatever the fuck she calls herself. We all know what she is. I wasn’t born yesterday. Rita’s a blackmailing whore.’

Eyeing Sonny from the table as she performs, Sonny’s lustful and interested gaze on her hasn’t gone unnoticed with all that admiring.

It helps all the more that Sonny’s seated so close to the stage and with Michael Corleone whom Rita knows is impossible to get a shred of attention or interest from but Rita’s satisfied with luring in one Corleone brother before she aspires to go back to back with another.

The only positive purpose doing business in such venues, clubs, and brothels serves most mafiosi besides personal pleasure is the fact that if there’s unwanted or hostile presence of police and FBI not on a mafioso’s payroll, it’s much easier to be able to appear as a couple of businessmen chatting and having drinks while enjoying a show than appearing suspicious.

None can hear nor suspect any illicit business is being discussed or ongoing from music, singing, and distractions after all.

Michael still refuses to pay any attention to Rita’s show during her second act even when his business partners arrive; consisting of her emerging from an amethyst and diamond-studded, lifesize clam large enough to comfortably fit three people in.

Completely and utterly in awe as if he’s in a trance, Sonny and the rest of the invited businessmen are thoroughly entertained and their enjoyment and need for entertainment is just a necessary, lesser evil Michael comes to accept.

If such needs to occur for business to come along smoothly without issue, then Michael has no issues with it although he finds it all negatively distracting.

Slow jazz music builds up to its climax as Rita fully emerges from the clamshell, causing business discussions at the table to be briefly interrupted as a result.

Leonardo and Michael look over to see Rita no longer dressed in her peacock-inspired bodysuit but only in a pair of bra and panties made from a lightweight chain and decorated in pearls and diamonds.

Rita extends out her arms to the tune of the jazz music, throwing her hair back and stepping out the clam barefoot.

Just as Michael’s about to divert his gaze once more and remind his business partners what the task at hand is, Rita places her hand over her bra and pulls it off with ease—causing the pearls and diamonds to spring loose and around her on the stage.

‘She’ll curl up in the arms of any rich, powerful man who can give her a night to remember, spoil her and pay for the new diamonds you see on her ears.’

More hoots, whistling and cheers can be heard from the crowd and from Sonny himself as Rita remains completely topless; her breasts springing free as she pulls the matching panties down her legs—bending over.

“Goddamn,” Sonny chuckles to himself, taking in the view.

Michael sighs quietly to himself, understanding this is now a full-on sex show rather than the other forms of performances and entertainment he’s had the misery of having to attend yet he isn’t surprised.

‘When she doesn’t want to let go of her arm candy, she’ll just resort to blackmail. Easy to do to politicians who can’t keep their eyes or hands to themselves, to begin with. It’ll give her the big payday she’s looking for and everyone moves on. She craves it just as much she craves the attention.’

Michael lights another cigarette, figuring whenever Rita’s done with her jaw-dropping antics, everyone can get back to business even if that means it looks like Michael will have to wait longer.

Rita’s third and final act of the night consists of the curtains drawing back once more to reveal her sitting naked inside a massive, human-sized cocktail glass that matches the gems of the clam from her second act.

Rita lets the pink-colored water inside the cocktail glass soak over her skin as Rita rests her arms on the rim of the cocktail glass.

Rita then raises up her thigh, letting the pink water drip off as she begins to massage and caress the liquid over her body.

‘She’ll never have to worry about blackmailing Sonny… If she was to, that would mean he’d want to stay away from her for good, right? Right?’

[ Present Day, Lake Tahoe Compound ]

Connie frowns, clasping a hand over her mouth as she stares at Sandra.

“Say something, please,” Sandra croaks—her throat tightening.

“Sandra, I’m so, so sorry—Sandra! Sandra!” Connie gasps as Sandra bolts from the dining table, almost spilling her tea.

“SONNY! SONNY!” Sandra shrieks, storming out of Connie and Leo’s estate.

“Sandra, wait! Oh my God!” Connie jumps up from her seat, rushing after her sister-in-law. “Sandra, no!”

All Connie can think of is that while Sandra’s emotions, reactions, and outbursts are completely normal and to be expected, she’s guaranteed Vito and Carmela’s involvement in this now by shouting it for everyone to hear on the compound.

Back in your estate shortly after finishing up breakfast with your family, you hold baby Vincent in your arms—indulging in conversation with the nanny, Esther as the twins begin their morning lessons with the governess.

“Oh, it’s definitely been a while,” you chuckle. “My family visits Sicily regularly, but that’s a given for all the business they do. I think I had more than enough opportunity after we moved to New York, but my studies and work always got in the way.”

“Would that mean you haven’t been there for five years now? Oh my,” Esther’s eyes widen.

“Mhmm,” you admit sheepishly, kissing Vincent’s cheek. “Not since the twins were just little babies. Funny enough we’ve been to Rome, Venice, and Florence since but not back to the homeland since. That’ll change very soon.”

“Looking forward to a good trip for you and the family then, Mrs. Corleone,” Esther beams, “all that time gone by still surprises me. The twins were so tiny, just like this little guy!”

Before she can say anymore, Esther glances over her shoulder to see Michael stepping out of the estate to approach you; the morning sun glistening over his skin as he keeps both hands in his pockets.

Understanding the need for privacy, Esther gives both of you a polite smile and a small nod before entering back into the estate to leave you two alone.

“Hello, darling,” Michael greets you by wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Hi, baby,” you blush, “I’m thinking we could spend the rest of our morning out on the yacht together maybe with a cold drink and—”

“SANTINO! SANTINO!” You’re interrupted by the alarming sound of Sandra shrieking around the compound.

Michael and you exchange a concerned look with one another before rushing out to the front of the estate where Sandra’s continuous scream-sobbing is coming from.

Sonny’s the first to his wife wailing, throwing down his newspaper and springing out of his seat from surprise.

“Sandra?!” You call out as Michael keeps a protective arm around you. “Oh—Connie!” You spot your sister-in-law running over, distraught and confused. “Connie! What’s going on—”

Connie stops in her tracks to see Sandra rush out from behind her estate to inside, only gone for a split second before the three of you watch her screaming insults and curse words in a mix of English and Italian before shoving Sonny outside.

“Fucking stop! Stop it, alright?!” Sonny grunts, stumbling out of the estate. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“GET OUT, GET OUT!” Sandra screams, pointing away from the compound. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

“Lower your fucking voice!” Sonny shouts over top over her, brushing off his wrinkled tank top. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Huh?!”

Before you can say anything, Michael—who remains completely calm next to you—raises his free hand up to silence you, giving you a reassuring look but also signaling he won’t give involved in the middle of this and doesn’t want you to either.

Sobbing and practically shaking, Sandra opens her mouth again to cry out but is immediately silenced by Sonny. “What the fuck are you yelling for, woman?! What’s wrong with you?!”

“What’s going on?” Michael interrupts, speaking up.

The three of you including Connie begin to slowly approach as you also notice Tom and Theresa slowly doing so from their estate after hearing everything.

With security and guards on alert, Al Neri and Rocco slowly begin to make their way over whereas Esther rushes into the central family compound to ensure the children don’t hear or step out, but it’s only going to be a matter of time until Vito and Carmela do.

Vincent stares around aimlessly, confused by all the yelling and overlapping loud voices around him but seemingly disinterested and unaffected by it as he plays with a few strands of your hair.

“Even if your father’s life depended on it, you wouldn’t be able to stop fucking whoring!” Sandra shrieks, “every time you go ‘on business’ all you do is whore around! That’s all you’ve been doing for years, isn’t it?! Go ahead, tell everyone, Sonny! And remind Michael and Victoria too!”

Connie remains silent, biting her lip. All of this hits too close to home, reminding her of how many times she was in Sandra’s place herself when she was still married to Carlo.

Connie didn’t want anyone silencing what she had to say to Carlo then, so she refuses to attempt to silence Sandra now.

“You—” Sonny begins, but Sandra cuts him off.

“Don’t you want everyone to know what you did in Las Vegas?! Go ahead and tell the children while we’re at it!”

“Sandra,” Michael speaks calmly, shaking his head.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Sandra hiccups, facing Michael as Sonny sighs loudly. “It's true when we first got married—” Sandra points an accusing finger at Sonny. “And true before! But Michael, you’re not going to lie to me, are you? What did Sonny do in Vegas? I want you to tell me.”

“My brother is an adult capable of making his own decisions and thinking for himself,” Michael replies, “I’m not his babysitter. We had business in Las Vegas, yes, but what Sonny did before, during, and after is not my concern nor do I or Victoria witness it.”

“Thank you!” Sonny scoffs, beginning to turn away before Sandra yanks on his arm and pulls him back.

“I don’t fucking think so!” Sandra scowls. “I’ll decide that and you’re NOT going to walk away from me, Santino! You can barely control yourself as is and I’ve had ENOUGH!”

“YOU HEARD HIM!” Sonny yells back, pointing at Michael.

“Sonny, don’t yell!” Connie frowns, growing uneasy.

Sonny’s eyes soften momentarily as he looks over at his sister. “I was only there for business.”

“Victoria,” Sandra narrows her eyes at you. “What did you see? Tell me.”

You snuggle Vincent to your chest, sighing softly. “Sandra, this isn’t—”

“Oh no, no.” Sandra glares at you, “you’re not going to tell me how to react, right? If your husband was known to whore around for years, would you really remain quiet? That passive?”

“Stop,” you stare back at her, unamused. “That’s not what this is.”

“THEN TELL ME WHAT IT IS!” Sandra screams, causing Connie to flinch.

“Lower your voice when you speak to Victoria,” Michael warns, hearing the faint footsteps of Vito and Carmela beginning to step out from the central family compound.

“Tell me, tell me! TELL ME!” Sandra sobs, hiccupping.

Sonny shakes his head, locking eyes with you; his expression still somewhat hurt from your last encounter with him in Las Vegas.

“All of New York knows the truth but not me, his own wife!” Sandra points to her chest, “I deserve to know the truth! Tell me!”

“You do,” Michael agrees, somewhat calming Sandra. “Yes, you do.”

“Constanzia,” Carmela calls out gently, approaching her and gesturing her away. “Come here, sweetheart. Come, let’s go.”

You stay put, watching as Vito approaches with a grave look of disappointment on his face—watching his daughter-in-law weep.

“Papa,” Sandra hiccups, shaking her head. “What have I done? What did I do? Was I a bad wife to deserve this?”

Sonny bites his lip, embarrassed in the presence of his father and barely able to look Vito in the eye.

“No, you were not,” Vito answers, scowling at his son. “And Santino does not think so either, does he?”

“Pop—”

“Silence!” Vito interrupts. “You’ve caused our family enough embarrassment, you make your wife cry and you speak back to me? Have you no shame, Santino? You treat the mother of your children—your life partner—this way with such disrespect in front of your family?” Vito shakes a scolding finger at Sonny. “I will speak to you alone, Santino, so you don’t embarrass yourself in front of the family any longer, but you owe answers and apologies to your wife.”

“I want to hear it from Michael,” Sandra sniffles.

Vito looks over at the both of you, noticing the frowns on your faces.

“Him or Victoria,” Sandra hiccups again, “they were both in Las Vegas with Sonny. They know. Victoria, tell Papa.”

You nod, refusing to hold back for Sonny’s sake. “Papa, I didn’t see or hear anything—that’s the truth—but Sonny told me himself he went to spend time with a woman.”

“Rita, right?” Sandra attempts to catch her breath.

Michael raises a brow, seriously beginning to wonder how everyone knows Rita Duvall in this family.

“Aaaaaa…” Vincent snuggles your chest, surprising you by how calm he remains throughout so much shouting being exchanged.

“Rita, seriously?” Michael stares at Sonny, no longer able to hold back his own disappointment.

You press your lips down together, remaining silent and attempting to appear indifferent to the name mentioned. If Sandra knows of Rita, then she already knows about everything else and if her pain lies with Sonny’s affair with Rita, then you can only think of Sandra who’d be happy to hear someone put Rita Duvall out of her misery a few days ago.

The conversation changing to speak of a woman whom you killed recently is no doubt an interesting one between family.

“Jesus,” Sonny sighs, looking away in defeat.

“Go inside, I’ll speak with you separately,” Vito gestures Sonny away. “Everyone, please give them some privacy. Let us all return to what we were doing, your mother and I will deal with this.”

Michael gives Sonny one last look before gently leading you away and back towards your estate. “Come on, darling.”

“YOU WERE WHORING AROUND IN VEGAS WHILE I WAS WAITING FOR YOU AND TAKING CARE OF OUR FAMILY!” Is the last thing you hear Sandra scream to Sonny right then and there before you and Michael enter your estate.

With every step you take until you and Michael are back into the estate with the door shut, you can hear Sandra’s sobbing, Sonny’s disgruntled comments, and Vito’s scolding.

“C’mon, c’mon, go inside. Get inside, and we’ll talk. Come on, that’s enough. Stop crying.”

“Aa!” Vincent squirms in your arms, only now beginning to grow restless.

“Ah, I’m right here. Right here,” you gently bop the tip of Vincent’s little nose, “hi, baby. Hiiii, look at Mama.”

“Gaaaaahhhh…” Vincent blinks in confusion, beginning to calm down as you give both of his cheeks a kiss.

Michael glances out towards the window, knowing Sandra is sobbing and inconsolable whereas Vito feels disrespected and embarrassed on behalf of the family.

“There, there,” you wiggle a piece of your hair to Vincent, noticing his interest immediately grow. “Mama’s hair is that interesting, hmm? I’m flattered. You’ll grab on daddy’s tie too, right?”

Vincent blathers quietly, holding a few strands of your hair in a loose grip as you turn to face Michael who locks the front door, gazing back at you.

“I…” You take in a deep breath, patting Vincent’s back. “It’s past his nap time. I should put him to bed.”

“Very well,” Michael nods, slipping both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “We need to talk after.”

Strange, cold tension fills the space between you and Michael momentarily towards the matter with Sandra; a lot to consider on Michael’s behalf whereas memories of New York with Sonny come rushing back to you—leaving a mellow taste in both of your mouths

“I know,” you say back, turning around and approaching the staircase.

“I want you in my office afterward,” Michael watches as you carefully go up the steps.

“I’m tired, Michael,” you say back; whether it’s of today or what just occurred in front of half of the family, you leave it up to Michael to infer.

“I know. I am too.”

You feel the tension in your body begin to ease up as you make your way upstairs with little Vincent in your arms, already noticing how your son snuggles you in a state of sleepiness.

“Let’s get you all cozy and in your bed,” you whisper softly to Vincent, approaching the nursery. “You’re falling asleep on me already. Oh,” you can’t help but smile at how Vincent’s curled up to your chest, peacefully beginning to doze off.

You carefully set Vincent in his crib, tucking him in and minding what position he’s laying in without waking him.

“I need to learn from you, honestly,” you joke, speaking in a very ushered tone as you watch Vincent sleep. “Just look at you…” You sigh in relief, “growing so fast. Three months have gone like that already… I love you, little guy. Mama loves you so much.”

You make sure to keep the nursery door open for Esther to check in on Vincent if you’re unable to throughout the day and also to hear any crying.

It’s not that you dread returning downstairs to get to Michael’s office or feel anxious about having a talk with him about all that just occurred with Sandra and Sonny, but rather that you feel so burned out from it all that the last thing you want is to be put in the middle—especially if it means Sandra and Sonny’s marriage will be permanently impacted.

None of this is fair to Sandra, but it’s not fair to you either. Then again, you know more about what happened than you’ll ever let on, and Michael knows this too.

Back in his office, Michael organizes paperwork over his desk—not so much distracted but waiting for you.

You step into Michael’s office, pulling off your hair tie to let your bun unravel free over your shoulders before smoothening it out.

You don’t even bother to look up at Michael right away who has his hands in his pockets, walking around his desk to approach you now.

Michael can tell you’re not avoiding looking at him directly out of guilt or anxiety, but that you’re tense and a little shaken up from that dramatic encounter with Sandra and Sonny.

Michael approaches you directly, placing both hands over your arms gently. “Relax, darling. You’re very tense.”

Sighing softly, you look up at your husband and frown.

Michael rubs up and down your arms tenderly, gazing into your eyes with nothing but genuine trust.

“Sandra…” You begin.

“I know,” Michael speaks to you in a soothing, calm voice. “There’s nothing we can do about the matter. It must be left between them.”

“And Papa?”

“Pop is disappointed,” Michael nods grimly. “He’ll have his say”

“I’m glad,” you say with a sigh, wrapping your arms around Michael’s shoulders. “Sandra deserves that much at least.”

Michael and you are more than well aware of how Connie didn’t have that kind of treatment from Vito who outright refused to get involved in her and Connie’s abusive marriage.

“I can presume whatever Santino did was as bad as Sandra claimed,” Michael mentions.

“Yes, it was,” you nod back, “Sonny’s lucky. Even with Pop talking to him who I trust will knock some sense into him, he’s still lucky.”

“Hmm,” Michael embraces you, planting a kiss over the side of your neck.

“If it was my father…” You grimace, “no. He would be in deep shit. Any of my brothers would.”

“That is to be expected,” Michael agrees. “He came and spoke with me shortly after we settled in.”

You blush, gently pressing your forehead against Michael’s. “Sonny did?”

“Yes,” Michael answers, “he came in bitter, entitled, and demanding answers. All he spoke of was you.”

“Great,” you mumble under your breath. “He doesn’t understand what I did was for his own good.”

“I agree,” Michael says, but in reality, he has no idea exactly what you mean. “He questioned your actions and integrity, but I did not. I don’t. As Pop said, we can’t afford a scandal on Sonny’s behalf after Fredo. Deanna is in Hollywood and has held nothing back to journalists about Fredo and his promiscuity throughout their marriage.”

“Figures,” you rub your temple gingerly, “it’s the last thing we need after all of this.

“And the baby,” Michael kisses your forehead. “I’m more concerned about you and our family than anything else. I refuse to make Sonny’s behavior our problem.”

“I know, baby,” you nod glumly. “I didn’t want Pop and everyone to hear all of that but it was inevitable.”

“Perhaps it was for the best,” Michael offers. “The rest is up to them personally, however… You never told me you hit Sonny.”

“He deserved it,” you look up into Michael’s eyes. “Then and there, he deserved it.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“You didn’t expect that though, did you?” You ask.

“I understood why,” Michael replies. “You’re not a bitter and malicious person, Victoria, and you certainly weren’t in Las Vegas.”

“I know how he is,” you say back, practically still able to hear Rita’s whiny voice mocking you over her supposed pregnancy.

“And that brother-in-law of yours? His seed is inside me, so? You know what happens next, don’t you?”

You refuse to mention anything about Rita’s pregnancy to Michael for your own reasons.

“Sonny’s still my brother, and I care about him,” you state. “But he has more to deal with when it comes to his marriage. And as to what I did…” You shake your head, “he just needs to get over it.”

“He will,” Michael takes your hand, leading you towards one of the sofas in the office. “It doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”

“I understand, baby,” you sit next to Michael on the leather sofa, curling up to his side. “I just want my little peace and quiet with you and the babies.”

“Is Vincent asleep?” Michael wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his body.

“Mhmm,” you nod, “fell asleep right away. Wasted no time.”

“I wish we could have said the same for the twins when they were growing up,” Michael chuckles quietly.

“Same here,” you giggle back. “At least they did when they were newborns.”

“A different story altogether,” Michael adds. “Mm, how do you feel?”

“About?” You feel his hand rubbing up and down your back gingerly.

“Everything, or just about.”

“I’m alright,” you smile back at your husband. “And I know things will be better. I’m not going to let the last few days dictate to me how I should keep feeling.”

“I’m prepared to put the world to a stop if I need to for you, Victoria,” Michael’s hands begin to massage up and around your shoulders. “You only gave birth a few months ago. I want you to relax.”

“I’ll catch up eventually,” you relax in Michael’s embrace. “With this little one.”

“We missed having a baby around,” Michael kisses the top of your head. “The twins… They’ve grown up already.”

“Very fast,” the blush over your cheeks deepens as Michael kisses both of your hands.

“I’m proud of them and you,” Michael whispers against your forehead before kissing it.

“I love you so much,” you blush back.

“I love you too,” Michael gives your hands a soft squeeze. “You’re an amazing mother, I want you to know that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you feel Michael’s hand beginning to caress down your chest; his movements growing slower and more tender.

“And an amazing woman,” Michael nuzzles your neck as you find your fingers clutching onto the fabric of Michael’s dress shirt.

“Michael,” you whisper, tilting your head back to feel the warmth of Michael’s lips planting hot kisses over your neck—inhaling in the scent of your floral perfume.

A shiver goes down your spine from arousal as you feel Michael’s nose brush against your skin. “I want to have another child with you…”

“Already,” your breath hitches as you press your body against Michael’s.

“Whenever you feel ready,” Michael’s hands begin to inch up your blouse.

“Considerate,” you tease back—a whimper escaping your lips from Michael’s hands cupping your breasts.

“Your needs come first, baby,” Michael rubs his fingers over your tender nipples—already hardened from arousal. “I can still please you until it’s over.”

You know Michael’s referring to your period which you got in the middle of the night. “Yes, you can…” You writhe in Michael’s lap. “I… I didn’t lock the door.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Michael begins to inch your blouse up. “I want you here right now.”

“Oh, please,” you buck your hips up in arousal, watching as Michael licks his fingertips and continues massaging your nipples.

“You. Are. Mine.” Michael says between kisses over your breasts. “Only mine.”

“Yes,” your eyes flutter shut as Michael slips your blouse up and off over your head.

From where you both lay on the sofa in Michael’s office, you can see your reflections in a small mirror on the other side of the room; watching the way Michael teases and pleases your body.

“Come here, baby,” Michael’s tongue flickers over your breasts as he massages one and suckles over the other.

You moan loudly, tugging over his hair and feeling his hot tongue over your nipple.

Rolling your eyes back from pleasure, you feel you could cum from this alone—feeling just as horny on your period and willing to take all the alone time you can with Michael, right here and right now.

Within the same week, Fredo’s infamous brothel in Las Vegas is officially sold and shut down with the new buyer’s intention to tear the entire building and structure down and build anew.

All is well for the Corleone family who anticipated such for a long time coming; now with no need to worry about the physical reminders of Fredo’s legacy and being involved in the prostitution business by affiliation.

The news of the Corleone family now having no official ties whatsoever to any form of prostitution pleases Don Tattaglia who still seeks to have a monopoly over brothels under his family business; something Michael is more than fine with.

It’s not for another five days until the brothel’s managers realize they aren’t able to contact Rita Duvall in any form—has accounted for all the other women who worked at the brothel to move employment to an unaffiliated, new brothel.

Rita neither answers her telephone nor writes back. Her neighbors cannot remember the last time they saw her enter her apartment which remains eerily silent.

For the sake of formality and to avoid trouble with the law, the brothel managers file an official missing persons case on behalf of Rita, but from the unamused twinkle in the constable’s eyes at the police station, it was easily understood this investigation wouldn’t be taken seriously or as a priority over a missing prostitute.

It isn’t the first time showgirls, dancers, cocktail waitresses, and prostitutes have gone missing before but especially those who are known by the mafia or have curled up to him are almost always expected to go missing eventually.

It’s either a matter of knowing too much, overhearing something, or being under the suspicion one might snitch or get smart-mouthed towards the mafia which causes mistresses to go missing for good.

Rita isn’t the type to run off for dramatics or disappear for a while nor did the news of the brothel shutting down upset her to do so, but neither the police nor the brothel’s managers expect to find Rita ever again.

Still, it would be something to find Rita’s body at the very least and confirm what happened to her once and for all. Rita’s death would have to be covered up by the police and lied about on every report if it was done by the mafia in which one would truly know if it was done by the hands of a made man or a common killer.

Because the death of many others like Rita is common, there’s no special amount of sympathy felt by anyone on her behalf. Only journalists care about these kinds of cases when it benefits their articles and reports.

At this point in time, it’s been a little while since someone like Rita was reported missing or found dead—leaving a gap in time.

Only once a week passes with no information on Rita, nobody able to contact her, and nothing to pinpoint where she may have gone, what may have happened to her or anything in-between does Luciana’s interest begin to spike up.

Luciana already reported on the brothel shutting down, but it didn’t garner as much attention in the media as she thought.

Although she mentioned Fredo’s name in her article which meant the Corleone family by default and expected some sort of public attention towards it knowing how notorious Fredo’s brothels were when he was actively involved and running them, it appeared that the public was tired of the same old story spun in different ways.

Not only does Rita’s disappearance intrigue Luciana, but the fact that the police, her colleagues, and her employers also stopped caring about her almost immediately beckons for a new report.

Without being explicit or defaming, Luciana’s always been reporting on the drama caused by the mafia and every indulgence they have, especially when it comes to debauchery and luxurious lifestyles.

Since mafiosi are seen as wealthy businessmen outside of the underworld of crime, nothing impacts their reputation, family, or payroll so none come to mind but sometimes even appreciate the light of the media on them. The only exception to this has always been the Tattaglia family.

Tattaglia is the only mafiosi—let alone Don—who considers prostitution a lucrative and important business and because such a business is illegal, Tattaglia pats the city police’s pockets well to keep them in their place and their mouths shut.

Despite suspecting or knowing a fair share herself, Luciana doesn’t care. She takes a neutral stance on everything so as long as it doesn’t impact her directly. Some may even call her selfish for how she couldn’t care less what comes of her colleagues; it’s just one less journalist to compete with.

Luciana also couldn’t care less about the hows and whys of what the crime families do. She’s a reporter and a journalist—all she likes to do is get to the bottom of a good story and deliver.

Luciana remains to be the only journalist at her media outlet that cares about “whore gossip” and “drama scandals” to the point where she’s built her career and reputation on it.

After all, Luciana can be considered a nosy, gossipy person, and growing up she was the first to hear, spread and confirm rumors throughout her high school days that never really faded away when she became an adult.

And despite only speaking with Rita once to be bribed out of reporting a news story on her, Luciana doesn’t consider herself to know Rita personally. All Luciana figures are that Rita, a very popular prostitute and showgirl on stage and behind curtains but not so much in her personal life has gone missing and it’s going to make a hell of a headline.

Luciana’s aware Rita’s always spent her fair share of time with the Barzinis and Tattaglias, so regardless of how Luciana words her headline or chooses to write up a story, it’ll shine the wrong light on the two mafia families which could easily get Luciana and all of her colleagues killed.

Now that their “star girl” Rita Duvall is officially missing, the last thing Luciana will want is any heat on her without implying Rita’s possibly murdered.

For now, Luciana decides to write up an article that’ll only make it look like Rita’s a bad girl gone rogue until Luciana can dig up and discover enough information on what really happened to write up something proper.

‘Without a Trace: Star Showgirl and Performer Rita Duvall Missing?’ Luciana stares at her typewriter, amused by the witty headline she came up with.

It’s only a matter of time until Rita shows up with a bolstered reputation as if she was starting her second act or with a ruined reputation because she disappeared and none cared to find out why.

It’s that, or the third option; that Rita Duvall is dead.

#the godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #michael corleone #the godfather x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #the godfather part ii #moth to flame fic #moth to flame fanfic

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ourlordapollo · 9 months ago

Text

Just realized I never posted my Narumitsu playlist so let's goooo

It's in rough chronological order by the OG trilogy and stops after T&T

Tracklist

Break My Stride - Matthew Wilder

You're on the road and now you pray it lasts

The road behind was rocky, but now you're feeling cocky

You look at me and you see your past

Is that the reason why you're running so fast?

Go Your Own Way - Fleetwood Mac

Loving you isn't the right thing to do

How can I ever change things that I feel?

If I could, maybe I'd give you my world

How can I when you won't take it from me?

Before I Got There - The Mountain Goats

And in a pit behind the altar,

The bodies of the fallen

Heavy tracks up to the lip

Just to prove that they were crawling

Faces turned toward the sky

That they would never see again

Victims of the fallout

I have failed you, sweet young men

Yesterday - The Beatles

Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be

There's a shadow hanging over me

Oh, yesterday came suddenly

Fix You - Canyon City

When the tears come streaming down your face

And you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone and it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Stars - fun.

And I've been saying that you,

You're always holding onto stars

I think they're better from afar

'Cause no one here is gonna save us

—

You Run Away - Barenaked Ladies

You run away

You could turn and stay

But you run away from me

I tried to be your brother

You cried and ran for cover

Little Lion Man - Mumford and Sons

And it was not your fault but mine

And it was your heart on the line

I really fucked it up this time

Didn't I, my dear?

At Least It Was Here - The 88

But I love you more than words can say

I can’t count the reasons I should stay

One by one they all just fade away

But I love you more than words can say

Europe's Skies - Alexander Rybak

I don't know you, but I need more time

Promise me you'll be mine

Birds are flying over Europe's skies

Tell me please, why can't I?

Wrecking Ball - Miley Cyrus

I never meant to start a war

I just wanted you to let me in

How to Save a Life - The Fray

He will do one of two things

He will admit to everything

Or he'll say he's just not the same

And you'll begin to wonder why you came

No Children - The Mountain Goats

I am drowning

There is no sign of land

You are coming down with me

Hand in unlovable hand

Boulevard of Broken Dreams - Green Day

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me and I walk alone

—

Love You Madly - CAKE

I don't want to wonder if this is a blunder

I don't want to worry whether we're going to stay together 'til we die

I don't want to jump in unless this music's thumpin'

All the dishes rattle in the cupboards when the elephants arrive

Cellophane - Sia

Patience is your virtue, saint of mine

I'd have fallen through the cracks without your love tonight

Iowa (Traveling, Pt. 3) - Dar Williams

How I long to fall just a little bit

To dance out of the lines and stray from the light

But I fear that to fall in love with you

Is to fall from a great and gruesome height

Hey Jude - The Beatles

Remember to let her into your heart

Then you can start to make it better

Lean On Me - Keb' Mo'

Lean on me

When you're not strong

And I'll be your friend

I'll help you carry on

Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am

Pompeii - Bastille

But if you close your eyes

Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

And if you close your eyes

Does it almost feel like you've been here before?

Here Comes the Sun - The Beatles

Little darling

I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling

It seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun

#narumitsu #wrightworth #fanmix #ace attorney #delphi washington #Spotify

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edgessunflower · 1 year ago

Note

From song lyrics prompt list: "I wanted to make you proud but I just got in your way" + "What do I have to do? To try to make you see? That this is who I am and it's all that I can be" + "I tried to keep this pain inside but I will never be alright" with Rey Mysterio?

But I know I must go on

Pairing: Rey Mysterio x Fem reader

Description: Rey helps you back on your feet after dealing with your inner demons and slowly healing from things that have haunted you

"I tried to keep all this pain inside but it's eating away at me and I'll never be alright, I don't want to burden you" the words make Rey feel that he's been stabbed in his heart knowing that you had been through hell and back throughout your life. He caresses your face softly wiping the pouring tears away "You have been through so much but you've persevered through it all" you had been through a lot of trauma in your life the majority of it you have never healed from so haunted, followed, and affected you ever since they happened leading you to have chronic anxiety, depression, trust issues especially with men, a few mental and emotional breakdowns throughout your life, and panic disorder which took a bad toll on you whenever the anxiety got very bad but the first change in your life was when you met rey after joining WWE in early 2003 becoming friends and helping him through his rough divorce and even helping him fight for rights to his children earning him spilt custody which he thanked you for everytime he saw you the first three weeks afterwards. And he has helped you heal over the past two years ever since the two of you got together always being by your side to help you pick the pieces of your life up "I know you still have a long road ahead but that doesn't change your progress so far" the words warm and crack your heart all at once burying your head in your hands "I wanted to make you proud but I just got in your way" he lifts your head up with his fingers on your chin pressing warm kisses along your face before gently pressing his lips against your own wrapping his arms around you "Proud isn't the only feeling you've made me feel ever since I've known you" the words bring comfort to you before leaving your house and heading to the arena where things were good at first until your disastrous tag team match with Eddie where he yelled at you "You need to have heart! You need to be someone else and someone better!". Finally you crack with tears pouring down your face stopping in your tracks and turning around yelling at the top of your lungs "WHAT THE HELL DO I HAVE TO DO TO TRY AND MAKE YOU SEE THAT THIS IS WHO I AM AND IT'S ALL THAT I CAN BE! WHAT DO I HAVE TO FUCKING DO!?" if it hadn't been for rey running down the hall and Edge grabbing you over his shoulder when you try to grab eddie you would have definitely hit him or done worse shaking with quiet sobs as edge carried and put you down in rey's locker room breaking down in rey's arms and you cried more seeing edge beside you as well with the most heartbroken look on his face since the two of you were the closest thing to siblings than either of you had and seeing you completely broken down absolutely ate away at him turning and walking out full of rage hearing eddie put you down in front of everyone else "Mi vida listen to me you have been through hell and back and you're still on your feet and no matter what you have me and you have so many people that are with you through thick and thin" slowly you feel safe and calm in his arms jumping when you hear yelling and a smack running when you see edge on top of eddie almost strangling him "Edge hey stop! Clear skies edge clear skies" as soon as the words are heard edge gets off pulling you in his arms as he always did when he would hear you say clear or cloudy skies which let him know that you were having a rough day or feeling better from something "It hurt it did, but I know I must go on despite everything" you look down at eddie before walking away next in between edge and rey smiling big for the first time in a long time.

#rey mysterio #wwe x reader #wwe #rey mysterio x reader

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reno2005 · 6 months ago

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Reno I’m so glad you talked about Leon change being not black and white. Because when Ada told him he didn’t change, it irked me. I love Ada and I know what she meant by that, that he still is a good person that wants to do the right thing. But it also felt so disrespectful because Leon changed, he’s not that bright eyed rookie anymore.

It’s just that I’ll always mourn Leon’s self before the trauma, so when someone says he hasn’t changed it, it almost feels dismissive of all he’s been through.

Leon reminds me a lot of the Ship of Theseus. If you're unaware of what it is, it's a philosophical question of sorts that basically goes like: You have a ship made of wood. Over time you replace certain pieces/planks/etc so that the ship can continue to run well. After years of maintenance is the ship still the same?

I think about the question a lot here and there since I started playing the game. There isn't a right answer really(I suppose) but I personally believe that it is the same ship. The ship still has its own personal goal/service/etc that it commits to.(In the case of the ship of theseus, to commemorate the saving of the children of Athens) Sure you may change pieces of board over time or exchange one working part for maybe a more updated one but the ship still has the same purpose/goal/etc. and even what it stands for. I also count the build of the ship being part of its identity. Again, you may have changed boards to keep it in good shape but the same could be said of the body. Updating and maintaining it to stay in good order for its purpose and goals. Its all part of its core identity.

I think the people who tell Leon he hasn't changed perhaps focus on the parts of him that they maybe lack within themselves or don't like seeing having stayed the same within himself but not themselves.(Some people will also just always have their pride and will want to feel like they're on the top if that makes sense) The want to do good for no other reason than that it's the right thing to do and not for money's sake or a personal lie of independence and being unable to step away from doing questionably moral things because you think you can't turn away from the life you've made for yourself. Staying true to yourself and how you go about things in a true and honest manner and sticking with wanting to do good despite the bad that has happened to you and trying to move on from it despite the burning desire to focus on it and let it consume you whether from fear of weakness or losing the only life you've ever known. One is stuck(you can argue they do good things but does it come from a genuine place), the other changed for the worse.

The only person who asked him whether one can change and didn't tell him whether he did or not was also trying to change themselves and they at their core weren't all that different from before either. They wanted to do good and were simply blinded by their research and what they were accomplishing in an attempt to reach for some sort of redemption from their own past and what happened to them. They still had their personality but showed clear signs of guilt and moments of taking things seriously.

Maybe that's why I thought it was weird when the "Leon treats Ashley cold" thing was floating around. He's still the kind caring heart of justice person from before. If he wasn't he wouldn't be so concerned with "saving one person while a hundred others die". He wants to save everyone he can, just like he did back then. When I take pictures I'm surprised when I look back at some of my shots of scenes because I always forget/don't realize how often he smiles in the game, especially when he's able to help Ashley or sees that she's okay after a tense situation.

Did you know Leon always gives out a tense sigh of sorts after you do your first stealth kill? I interpret that as him not being a cold killing machine but only doing what he has to for goodness sake. He needs to save an innocent person and unfortunately it's him or the Ganados.

But yes I also think he's not naive anymore. He calls her out for just using him again(you may argue she helps him and etc but again the underlying motive is her obtaining the sample) and rejects her offer to join her. He immediately figures out Krauser kidnapped Ashley without a doubt despite trying to change his mind on the whole situation and their personal seemingly close history with each other. He's suspicious of Luis the whole time and doesn't give him his full name and takes most of the game to warm up to him just to be assured he's not bad either.

I'm going on and on here so I'll end it by saying I feel Leon has changed but not completely and despite what he's been through, it could have been for the worst but he tries his best to stick true to his morals and character even if he has to get his hands dirty and he needs to be more wary of others for the most part due to the kind of business he's in unfortunately. The ship is still the same, the parts are just updated.

#Reno2005

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ailelie · 8 months ago

Text

Real Magic (Nick/Louis; from 2014)

"Watch the coin, love," Nick slurred, carefully folding a 10p coin in a tenner. "Call this a 10 in 10. Terrible name, really. Don't know why I don't think of something better."

He gave the folded square a little shake. "Good and trapped now, isn't it? Go on, feel it. Funny, isn't it. Whenever you think you've gotten something good all properly sewn up, it just slips away from you."

He folded it in half right over the missing coin and laughed. "Fingers never forget, I guess. Here, for the drink."

It wasn't that Nick didn't like close magic. Like many magicians he'd started with cards and coins, making up stories while hiding his Jacks on the top of the deck. Patter came easy to Nick, even when his tricks failed, he kept his audiences engaged. Got compared to David Devant and Ricky Jay now, didn't he?

But Nick didn't dream of small rooms and table-tops. All he'd ever wanted to be was on the stage, thrusting swords in a box and conjuring rabbits. The big illusions. The real magic.

But, under stage lights, his hands, so sure even when he was dangerously tipsy and edging on drunk, faltered. His mouth would keep running, but his tricks would break down into little disasters.

He'd told all this to Harry last year, even though he knew Harry, so popular at children's parties and known for the long, entertaining rambles that somehow tied his tricks together, couldn't understand.

Harry had slow-grinned like he had a brilliant idea and said, "My mate's an Assistant. Sort of."

His mate had been Louis. Clever, bright, frustrating, infuriating, wonderful Louis.

"Of course," Nick said to the bartender, "I buggered it all up."

He pulled the 10p from his pocket & spun it on the bar. Suddenly, he slapped his hand down and when he lifted it back up, the coin was gone. "Palming," he said, turning his hand over. "Good enough and you can pick things up without anyone the wiser. Took me a full year to learn the trick of it." Took nearly as long to realize he was falling for Louis.

Louis hadn't liked any of Nick's ideas, called them boring. No one worries when you stab a sword through a box anymore, without the fear where was the awe?

When they performed, Louis improvised. Nick got so caught up in keeping up with Louis, he forgot about the lights beating down. He kept up the patter, did tricks out of order, and coaxed the audience into belly laughter. He and Louis argued over it and the role of the assistant after, but, honestly, it was the best show Nick had ever done. All their shows were.

Nick flicked the coin into the air, caught it, and then immediately opened both hands wide and empty.

"Down your sleeve," the bartender said.

Nick smiled. "Nah," he said, "You snagged it from me." He tapped her hand. When she moved it the coin was underneath.

"How?"

Nick shook his head. "Secret, now, isn't it?"

The bartender rolled her eyes. "So why're you here then?"

Nick's smile pulled down. "Coin's not the only thing I've got snagged from me. You ever hear of the Pendragons?"

It didn't take Nick long to realize that, like Charlotte Pendragon, Louis was a magician in his own right. Bit of an escape artist, he worked that into their tricks, always upping the awe. And Nick would catch him at odd hours practicing, running through steps, picking locks. He was better than Nick at stage magic, good enough to go solo. But when he'd told Louis this, his grin turned brittle and he didn't talk to Nick, except on stage, for a week. Eventually Harry explained.

Louis, too, had dreamed of being a magician, but no one took him seriously. He'd tried to use the assumptions against his audience, but hecklers still asked when the real act was showing up. No matter how good he was; people saw what they wanted to see. As an Assistant, though, he was allowed. Small and agile enough for box jumping, strong enough for lifting, talented enough to keep tricks moving, magnetic enough to charm and distract the audience--he was everything a magician could want.

"So of course," Nick said, walking the coin up and down his fingers, "I threw it in his face."

Harry had mentioned friends of theirs returning from overseas and possibly doing a group act & Nick had struggled to breathe because Louis hadn't said anything and Louis was going to leave. So, that night, he'd turned routine bickering into a row. Told Louis he was replaceable. Said people didn't come to magic shows for the scenery. Not a single drop of drink could drive Louis' surprised hurt out of his mind.

"Hence tonight's disaster." Alone on stage, he'd forgotten every trick. He was never going to catch that magic again. Nick flipped the coin in the air again, but another hand grabbed it.

"You gave me top billing," Louis said, handling the words like a knife.

Nick shrugged. "Wanted to make sure they knew who the real magician was."

Louis stared and it was like he'd stopped time altogether. Even now he was bloody magic. "I'm still very angry with you," Louis said, slipping the coin into Nick's pocket. "Why'd you do it?"

"Scared to lose you, I guess. Scared to admit I already had."

"You're an idiot." He curled his fist in Nick's collar like he was preparing for a punch and then dragged Nick down for a biting kiss."Partners?"

"Yes." No hesitation. He wasn't losing this again.

#nick/louis #fic #i wrote this back in 2014 #in a series of messages #i do not remember researching magic #but i must have as i no longer recognize my own references #my roommate is laughing at me #even if we're no longer roommates #trying to decide if i should toss this on ao3

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write-and-wander · 10 months ago

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One: To Give Life to the Immortal

Loki (MCU/Norse Lore) x Female Reader (OC) Description: You, Idunn, reflect on your life in Asgard and everything that brought you here. You reminisce about the things you left behind, the friendships you've made, and the people you've come to love (including one god in particular). It's all a dream- until it isn't. Warnings: N/A | Word count: 4.6k

Author's Note: As a disclaimer, this story is going to be my fusion AU of MCU Norse Canon and Norse Mythology/Lore. I have grown up loving both of them dearly; so this is my long-awaited story-teller's love letter to both. I don't expect most people who read this to be familiar with Norse Lore, so I'll be sure to explain relevant lore and the creative liberties I take with the story as I go. Feel free to ask questions for clarification if you have them; but keep in mind this is a fictional fusion, and I don't follow Norse religion, I'm merely someone who loves the stories it tells, so I may not always have a solid answer at the ready. Enjoy! Read on Ao3 | Prologue | One | Two | (/13)

Life in Asgard is a dream.

While you can’t say serving each and every god is an always-pleasant experience, Odin- and even more so, Frigga- had ensured you would be able to create your own little pocket of perfect peace amidst the chaos of the Nine Realms. Your garden belongs only to you, and it’s the only place in all the Nine Realms you can call home. It is full of color- green leaves, bright fruits, twisting vines with pastel flowers- but of all you have grown in this garden, your apple orchard is your magnum opus.

You watch Loki sit beneath the oldest tree in your garden, back pressed against the trunk, legs crossed at the ankle. He holds a book in one hand, and in the other, one of your countless perfect apples, half-eaten by now. A small smile lingers on his lips.

Funny, how he smiles much like his father did.

Odin was still pursuing infinite knowledge, then. He was constantly on the verge of madness, forever driven only by his pursuit of the impossible. He had yet to sacrifice his eye to Mimir, the god of infinite knowledge; and his children were yet young gods.

As were you- you were still a young goddess, tending to your still-growing garden. Your dwarven father, Ivald- who was known for his forge- was in his last days, pouring all his remaining time and energy into the apprenticeship of his sons. He diligently taught them to craft wondrous items that would continue to honor his legacy- an effort that would later pay off, as it would be his sons who crafted Mjolnir and other legendary artifacts. But it was your brothers who had such a future; it was your brothers who had Ivald’s great forge; it was your brothers who had your father. You had none of those things. Your garden was your everything.

“It’s you.”

You were picking apples when he spoke. With the crimson fruit in your hand, you turned towards the voice to see the All-Seeing One- Odin . His name tumbled from your lips in a murmur.

His eyes were wide in an expression you couldn’t quite read- frenzied need? Desperation? Awe? Relief? Perhaps some sort of combination of all those things, and more. His stare raked over your form.

You watched him carefully as he took a couple of steps closer, uncertain of yourself. Part of you wanted to kneel to the All Father. Part of you wanted to run. You had never seen anyone look at you the way he did now- it seemed he was ready to take you, keep you, consume you , so long as he could have what you could offer.

“So it is as he said,” Odin began, his voice breathy as he at last ripped his gaze away from yours and looked around with wide eyes.

“ He ?” You asked, eyes trained on Odin as he took in the new world he walked into.

“This garden is beautiful, Idunn,” he continued with a knowing smile, ignoring your question altogether.

Idunn- ever young , he called you. The name your father gave you when you first awoke in this garden. While it was a far cry from your true name- the name that belongs to a life lived before this- it still seemed to suit you.

“It is my life’s work,” you responded slowly. “Thank you.”

“I came to ask for the gift the Rejuvenating One offers. Do you know of what I speak?”

You nodded; of course you knew what he spoke of. There was no other reason for him to be here. He wanted eternal life, as did anyone who boldly came to you. Despite your timid demeanor, you always found a way to turn them down, or encourage their leave, or cause them to relent; but to the All Father? You knew you had no choice. He would take your gift, one way or another. Your only choice was to let it happen.

“How might I receive it?” His starved expression was once again locked on you as he spoke, as if in a trance; as if looking away from the one thing he came here to take for himself might cause it to disappear all too soon.

You look down to your golden basket, full of ripe red apples. One still sat in your hand.

You were always clever. Even then.

It was one of the things your father praised about you, in your short time together.

You examined the supple fruit on your palm carefully. With a slow, intentional breath, you created the first of a new kind of fruit- one that could grant rejuvenation. It glittered to life with an iridescent gold, your eternal gift delicately weaving itself into the life of the apple. As the magic settled, you held it out to Odin with an easy smile.

“Take,” you softly instructed, “and eat.”

He took, and he ate ravenously. You watched the whispers of wrinkles fade from his face as he consumed it, the juice dripping from his reddened lips.

“Youth suits you, Odin,” you complimented, taking note of the youthful glow that revitalized his complexion.

“Is that all it takes? Eating from your orchard?”

You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled to the surface as you spoke: “If it were, there would be countless immortal men-”

“Then tell me,” the words fell out of his mouth in a flash flood of breathy excitement as he quickly closed the gap between the two of you, “how can I maintain it- eternal youth?”

“Only if I give it-”

“Come with me to Asgard.” He took your now-fruitless hand in his, his eyes softening from wild desperation to gentle pleading. As young as he appeared to be now, there was an undeniable sparkle of fatherly care in his eyes- an affection you craved more deeply than you knew. “We will make a place for you, Idunn; forever yours, protected by our greatest Valkyries. You will be among the Aesir, with a seat of your own in our hall. Even the Vanir will know your name. You will belong, so long as you share your gift with us.”

Us . He meant all the gods- the Aesir, which reside in Asgard, and the Vanir, in Vanaheim. You would serve each and everyone one of them, for all time. Befriend them. Call them family . You would, at long last, truly belong .

You turned back to look over the garden you had made for yourself. You mentally walked back to where it all started, eyes lingering on the oldest tree in this place and the small flower bed beneath it. You looked through each tree, bush, and vine, relishing the memory of building this place, plant by plant and life by life. It was a beautiful garden; and a rare sight for Svartalfheim, the surface-level counterpart to Nidavallir, the subterranean home of the dwarves. It was home …

But you had to admit: it wasn’t Asgard. That would be an entirely different honor. With the affinity to the highest gods, the protection they would provide, the divine life they lived, and the relationships you could form, it would barely hold a candle to your lonesome garden. A seat at the table seemed a fair reward for the offering of your fruits.

“I will serve on my own terms,” you added. “Life is not something to grant by force-”

“Of course,” Odin agreed, ecstatic. “So long as you grant it.”

You placed your other hand on his- on the hand that still held yours- and he clasped it gently.

A deal made.

Your arrival to Asgard was a quiet one, and you were thankful for it. There was no grand feast, no great parade to usher you in, not even fresh flowers were thrown on pathways to prepare your way to your new home. But there was also no bombardment of questions, no fear for your safety, no crowd of gods scrambling to your garden’s gates like starved strays. Instead, Heimdallr, the All-Seeing Guardian of the Gods, would welcome you warmly as you crossed the rainbow Bifrost. You would have a picnic with Frigga in your new garden as the sun set that day. While she spoke of Asgard- of its people, its geography, its splendor; orienting you to your new home- your mind drifted off to dream of how you might fill this new space with flowering plants and blossoming fruits. With a knowing smile, she excused herself to leave you to adjust, promising to return again later to show you around her beloved realm.

You would find a young god patiently waiting at your garden's gates that evening. The silver moonlight casted a white glow on his raven black hair, carefully slicked back behind his ears. Fine green and gold robes draped across his torso, dressing up the regal air about him. You were suddenly made all the more conscious of the simple white dress you wore; an incredibly plain contrast to his royal finery.

“I can’t recall the last time Odin brought someone here,” the god quipped, leaning ever so slightly against the entryway. He seemed to be caught between nonchalance and wild intrigue; his relaxed body language making his careful gaze seem out of place.

“Have you been here long, then?”

“Long enough,” he answered flatly, standing upright as you began to approach him.

Silence fell between the two of you for a moment. You weren’t sure what to say, primarily because you weren’t sure what he was here for to begin with. Instead, you looked up at him through your lashes and took time to think.

He simply watched you, studying your face with a slight, practiced smirk.

“What brings you here?” You finally asked, your voice smaller than you were intending it to be.

“I simply wanted an introduction.” He held his hand out towards you, eyes glimmering with a sort of childlike playfulness that caught you off guard.

Your hand met his in a gentle handshake, his skin cool to the touch.

“Loki, Son of Odin,” he declared with a courteous bow, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand, “God of Mischief.”

You didn’t need the moniker- his first name was enough for you to know exactly who you were facing. Suddenly, you weren’t sure if the chill you felt was from the cold hand you now held, or your blood running colder as the realization sunk in.

Loki. Son of Odin, Beloved of Frigga, Shadow of Thor, and the overall Pain in Asgard’s Ass. A God of Mischief, indeed.

You swallowed your emotions, steeling yourself for a moment. “Idunn,” you responded quietly.

He straightened, his eyebrow cocked. “‘ Ever young ’? Are you our promised Goddess of Eternal Youth?”

“Odin’s news must have traveled quickly.”

“Your arrival has been a long-anticipated one.”

Your chin tilted. “Really?”

“Oh, naturally,” Loki practically scoffed, “Father has been searching for your… gift for quite some time.”

Questions flooded your mind. Who told Odin about my garden? About me? How much did Loki know? Why was he really here? None of those questions left your mouth, though. Not now. You would save them for another time. At that moment, you needed rest. It had been a long day of travel, and your head was swimming.

You also needed to stop staring at the handsome trickster god.

And you needed to let go of his hand.

Your hand dropped to your side as you forced a small smile, a silent plea: ‘ Please elect not to notice that .’

He seemed to oblige, turning his attention to a blooming moonflower growing on a vine that twirled around the gate.

It was the one plant that seemed to consistently sprout in your wake, no matter where you went. You hadn’t even noticed that its rare, brief blossom was in full view.

“I won’t intrude on your evening any longer,” he sighed as he plucked the flower, examining its satin white petals carefully, “it seems you still have some adjusting to do,” he finished as he nodded to the small tower-like home that stood proudly in the center of the newborn garden.

You nodded, “Yes- thank you,” you took a breath, “for the introduction.”

“The pleasure was mine, Idunn.” With a slow bow of his head, he turned on his heel and walked away, gently twirling the moonflower between his index and thumb.

You stood for a while, watching him leave. Your brows knitted together as you took your bottom lip in between your teeth, concern once again washing over you. Countless questions swam in your mind, changing the current altogether as you chased the stream of thought to any possible answer. You looked up to the moon- to Mani, a god you would meet soon- and took a deep breath. Concerns for another time , you decided. For the time being, you would instead focus on settling into your new home.

When the news of your arrival- and, more importantly, your agreement- had spread, many of the gods scrambled to your garden’s gates, desperately striving for such a gift, as if they wouldn’t eat of your fruit in time. The golden gates and the strong Valkyries standing outside of them faithfully kept the hungry gods at bay.

You knew better than to rush.

There was always time.

With a gentle smile, as the seasons changed, you would pick only the brightest reds from your beloved trees and gingerly place them in your golden basket. One by one, you would visit the gods. You traveled all the Nine Realms over and over again, falling into a gentle rhythm. You had your favorites- Freyja, goddess of fertility, would always come from Vanaheim to have her first pick, to the surprise of everyone else. Most had expected you to grant it to Balder, son of Odin & Frigga, God of War & Justice, and most favored in all the realms; but for better or for worse, you had always seemed to maintain a unique perspective on the gods you lived amongst. Freyja was your chosen favorite. Hel became your final stop before you would rest for the season and allow the trees to replenish; not because she was the worst to visit with (as many had presumed), but because there were no conversations held between immortality personified and death incarnate that would not be interesting. It was your favorite way to round out your travels. In your own special way, you and Hel had become good friends. That is not to say the other gods were not your friends; most were rather amiable, considering it certainly was not wise for a god to lose the favor of the one who sustains their very breath.

You would find many names for yourself over the centuries that followed. You had a name before Odin found you- a true name, if you will- as well as a life of your own prior to the Garden of Asgard, but those were things you kept close to your chest. “Idunn,” Odin would call you. “Life,” others would say; “Youth,” more still; “Goddess Eternal,” a small few would hail; “Rejuvenating One” fell from the lips of those who revered you; some even dared to call you “Mother,” as in the one who lovingly gave them their lives. Above it all, the All Father’s words would always prevail, leading most to call you their eternal youth; their Idunn .

Within just a couple hundred years, you had everything you could have ever wanted. You had a name, a positive reputation for yourself, a seat amongst the highest gods, and a garden of truly unrivaled beauty. Unfortunately, all of those wonderful things didn’t seem to tend to the issue of loneliness- that turned out to be inescapable. But, aside from that?

Life in Asgard was a dream.

Except for when it was a nightmare, brought about by one god Hel-bent on playing the part of savior and tormentor.

Loki. The God of Mischief.

On multiple occasions, Loki had tried to take your gift for himself. He had tried bartering for extra apples, or any other fruit you had grown; taking a lock of your hair; snipping off a piece of your fine robes (which Freyja had generously given to you); even seeking out Hel herself, hoping that your exact opposite would somehow give way to the answers he sought, just as his father did: how did one acquire your immortality ?

Your gift had never been something to be hoarded; it was something to be shared. It did not come from brilliance, or might, but from a swollen heart. Loki never quite seemed to understand that, but numerous attempts at finding your “secret” made for a seemingly endless amount of time spent together in your garden; so you tried to show him.

He had spent countless days and nights in your beautifully curated garden, watching you, observing your magic, carefully studying all that Life herself was in the hopes that he could figure you out. While it was mutually frustrating at first, you both came to enjoy the visits over time. Talk of your magic turned to talk of your garden turned to talk of the things you both loved dearly; about Asgard, about being alive, about each other .

Perhaps you had formed a connection of sorts- blindly driven by unbidden feelings hiding behind the carefully pruned hedges of your heart; but that was not anything to be concerned about.

Well, until it was.

You were filling your last basket with this season’s apples when he waltzed into the garden, his suave frame settling against a blossoming tree. You acknowledged him with a small smile and a sarcastic, “hello, stranger.”

His soft chuckle brought that signature, charming smile to his lips as he greeted you. “I wasn’t sure I would see you before you left,” he noted, his tone light. His mood was more pleasant than usual, it seemed.

“You did stay rather late last night,” you teased, “I’m surprised a prince would return so soon.” You held your gaze to the tree, hoping to keep the blush threatening to creep up your neck at bay. While nothing had transpired outside of stargazing, steady conversation, and the occasional longing glance, you still couldn’t help but feel bashful about the long evening you shared. He had sat closer to you than ever before while you stared up at the stars for hours and told him about your hopes as you planned your next trip around the Nine Realms. Just the thought of his breath on your bare shoulder was enough to heat your cheeks to a shade that could compete with the fruit hanging from your dearest trees.

Loki pressed his shoulder into the trunk behind him, using the momentum to bring himself upright before walking over to you. “Oh, you know as well as I that Thor carries enough scandals of that sort for the both of us.” With a bit of a flourish, he plucked an apple from the basket you held. “Does Freyja always receive the first one of the season?”

You took the apple from him and placed it back into your basket before walking to the next tree. “Do you envy her for it?” you asked casually as you searched the tree for fruit to pick.

“I wouldn’t mind knowing what it’s like myself,” Loki responded, his tone cool and even. “Though I suppose it would be an honor earned… ” he trailed off in feigned thoughtfulness.

Your eyes landed on a particularly bright apple, which you carefully plucked from the branch. “And what do you suppose is worthy of earning this?” You turned to him, holding the apple in front of you.

He smiled, a renewed shine in his eye. “What if I took you somewhere you have never been?”

You tilted your chin as a twin smile grew on your face. “Where could you possibly take me, Loki?”

“Do you trust me?”

No , you told yourself, I could never trust the God of Mischief .

But the way he smiled at you…

“Of course.” You lifted the apple in your hand to your lips, gently pressing them to the top. The fruit shimmered to life, just as it had all those forgotten years ago.

You gave him the first apple of the season- for the first and last time.

The expression on his face shifted.

It clicked.

You were the gift. The apples were simply your conduit .

He couldn’t quite stop himself from grinning wide as he found out your own cleverness- but the smile was easily mistaken by you as a smile of his own joy at winning you over.

He took, and ate slowly while you watched life return to his features, shamelessly enamored by him. He offered you a bite, which you took sheepishly, before he offered an arm to you.

Loki walked with you to the edge of your garden and saw you off on your journey.

He’d be waiting there for you, just in front of those golden gates, upon your return.

Loki glances up from his book, his Odin-like smile still lingering on his glistening, reddened lips. He takes another bite of his apple as you move to sit beside him; close enough to peer over the pages of the book in his hand, but far enough to ensure you won’t touch. Despite your endless conversations, touch is a boundary you can’t gather the bravery to cross without his initiation.

“Shall we?” He asks, closing his book and setting it into his lap. In a whisp of gold glitter, the apple core disappears from his hand.

You take a deep breath and lean your head back against the tree trunk as a soft breeze blows past you. It’s just a day trip , you remind yourself. Why do I still worry about being away for too long?

“If you’ve had a change of heart-”

“No,” you interrupt him as he stands, “no, of course not.” You look up to him seeking some sort of reassurance, but you can’t seem to find any.

All of Loki’s charm is wrapped up in the expression he wears; green eyes twinkling above a confident smile. Yet, the warmth you have grown accustomed to is absent. Something is off ; but you’re not one to push.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve traveled,” you say quietly, almost to yourself.

“We won’t be gone long,” he assures, offering his hand to you. “I doubt anyone will know of our absence.”

You take his hand with a weak smile and stand. Just as you try to let go, he takes your hand and places it in the crook of his bent arm. You glance at him with a questioning look, but Loki gives a wink and walks on, ushering you out of your garden and into the lush Asgardian forest.

You aren’t sure how long you have walked for when you finally arrive at your destination; the two of you have talked for so long that time seemed to pass all too quickly. The sun is still bright in the sky, telling you it is still likely early in the afternoon; but your sore feet tell you that you had traveled a long way to get here- wherever here is.

“Welcome to my sanctuary,” he introduces with a gesture.

Turning your attention from your guide to your view, your eyes settle on a clearing in the forest, surrounded by trees and cliffside. Off the cliff runs a beautiful waterfall, churning white mist over a small pool of water. Moss and vines climb up the rock while bushes roll along the mouth of the pool. At this time of day, sunlight hits the waterfall at just the right angle to conjure a rainbow at its misty base.

Loki holds his hand out to you, which you thoughtlessly grasp as your eyes continue to take in the sight. He guides you towards one side of the waterfall, stepping onto a rocky path that leads just behind it to a small cave just inside. You walk past the watery curtain into the grotto, and the world stops for a moment.

Golden light dances in every corner, half of flame and half of magic. On the ground are richly dyed plush blankets and round cushions, topped with small piles of books. Towards the back wall is a small table, on top of which is a single moonflower, still in bloom.

“Loki,” you breathe, awestruck by the simple beauty of a place like this.

“I do hope it has met your expectations,” his gentle tone echoes against the rocky walls.

“It easily exceeds them.” Your eyes linger on the moonflower- the breath of a memory he perfectly preserved in this place.

“Good.” He says, sitting down on one of the cushions. “I’ve come to your haven often enough, I’d think it’s time the favor was returned.”

With a breathy laugh, you sit beside him. “Is that an invitation?”

“Any time,” he confirms with the flash of a smile.

For a long while, the two of you sit and read, the steady rush of the waterfall echoing in the small cave, filling the silence.

Though you attempt to lose yourself in the book- some sort of fantastic romance- you struggle to focus. A pair of green eyes steadily focuses on you, brows stitched together ever-so-slightly. You hope it’s simply a fondness that etches itself into his features.

Even so, you find this a peaceful place. You wish you could stay here forever.

But time is cruel.

As the sun begins to kiss the horizon, Loki stands and helps you to your feet.

You ask him about the book he's been reading.

He provides a short response; just enough to answer, and nothing more. He carefully guides you out of the cave and back into the forest.

You swear for a moment you catch a glimpse of a tear on his cheek, but the dim light makes it hard to tell for certain. As he continues forward, his pace picking up to purposeful strides, you train your eyes on his back, determined not to lose the green-caped god in the midst of the darkening emerald forest.

Until something glittery catches your eye, and curiosity gets the better of your discipline.

You look down and see a fine shimmering gold chain. A small, mossy green agate hangs from it on a small hook. You bend down to pick it up, and tell Loki to come see what you’ve found.

But there is no response.

You look up to see only trees; the rich green and shimmering gold have disappeared. You call out to Loki, and hear no echo as your voice is absorbed by the trees which surround you.

Silence.

Your grip on the necklace tightens.

You move forward. Tiptoeing. Walking. Jogging. Sprinting.

Still no Loki.

Still no green and gold.

Still no sight of the end of these woods.

You call out again, your voice as ragged as your panicked breath.

“Lo-”

Your voice is cut off as a scream rips its way out of your throat.

Giant talons dig into your torso as you’re forcefully lifted off of the ground and carried above the canopy.

“Loki!”

The only sound you hear above the wind whipping past your chilled ears is your own breath- breath that feels like a strangers’ in its desperation.