#scheduled for new years morning from two days prior!!

[jessamine-rose]

.˚₊‧໒❀˚‧ Laurestine ‧˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Herbarium ๑ Fairytale ๑ Forget-Me-Not ๑ Astilbe ๑ Artifact Set ๑ Viparyas

Aahh I can��t believe it’s been two years since I wrote my Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling longfic!! This epilogue has been in my drafts for nearly as long, and I figured now would be a good time to revisit my favorite fairytale <3

Synopsis:: “While the Captain carries out his mission in Natlan, how does he protect his darling from afar? Her guard is here to provide the details.”

Tw:: yandere, Stockholm Syndrome, invasion of privacy, implied abuse from darling’s backstory, MINORS DNI

Note:: Female reader described as physically weak and smaller than Capitano

♡ 1k words under the cut ♡

Sender: Sergeant C. Naiad

Note: CONFIDENTIAL

My lord,

At the time I am writing this report, it has been eight days since your departure for Natlan.

Your wife is in good health. She rarely speaks to me and the new live-in servants, though she seems to have fully adjusted to our presence.

Below is a record of her daily routine. There may be slight variations depending on her energy levels and emotional state. But for the most part, Lady ______ adheres to this personal schedule.

-

7:00 - Lady ______ wakes up.

7:10 - Bathtime.

7:30 - Lady ______ leaves the bedroom.

7:35 - Breakfast.

8:00 - Lady ______ strolls around the woods, escorted. Occasionally picks flowers.

8:30 - Lady ______ preserves new flowers (if any) and checks on the other flowers in her collection.

9:00 - Lady ______ begins reading her first book of the day.*

12:00 - Lunch.

12:30 - Lady ______ continues reading.

15:00 - Lady ______ finishes her first book and arranges it in her personal library.

15:30 - Lady ______ begins reading her second book of the day.

18:45 - Bathtime.

19:00 - Dinner.

19:30 - Lady ______ continues reading.

20:00 - Lady ______ finishes her second book or stays up late to finish reading it.

20:15 - Lady ______ makes her request for breakfast the next day and goes to the bedroom.

20:30 - Bedtime.

*Depending on the length or contents of the story, Lady ______ may devote a full day to a single book. Other times, she chooses to instead rest in the bedroom, cook her own meals, or learn the Snezhnayan language through her textbooks and my assistance.

Regarding the last activity, her pronunciation is improving.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Today, Lady ______ read Records of Jueyun Vol. 2.

Based on her expressions, she seemed particularly fond of this story. The day prior, she also expressed interest in continuing Fables de Fontaine and Tales from the Waves.

Once you give your approval, I will place an order for the remaining volumes of all three book collections.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

We have received the garments commissioned for your wife. She seemed pleased with your gift, even going so far as to change into one of the dresses. Specifically, it was the lavender corset gown with off-shoulder puff sleeves.

Later, I overheard the staff praising her—a common topic of discussion, if I may add. This time, their compliments revolved around her physical appearance and your love for one another. They continue to serve her with utmost devotion.

Attached is a candid photograph of Lady ______ in the aforementioned gown.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

During my morning rounds, I discovered a Cryo Whopperflower two yards north of your residence. It was immediately eliminated, and I dispatched agents to eliminate any remaining monsters within the woods.

I have Private Hercyna’s confirmation that your estate has been purged of all potential dangers to Lady ______. She continues to enjoy her morning strolls.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ has reorganized her personal library. The servants offered their help, but she insisted on lifting the books and climbing the ladder by herself. Nonetheless, I remained by her side in case of an accident.

Afterwards, she reread Heart of Clear Springs. She then requested a shipment of Dandelion Wine and ingredients native to Mondstadt.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

I have a serious matter to discuss with you.

This afternoon, your wife requested a cup of Love Poem tea. It was served in the living room, and the maid tripped while holding the tray.

I was able to keep the hot tea from splashing all over Lady ______, but she was visibly shaken. Even after I confirmed that neither of us had been scalded, she went upstairs and spent the rest of the day in her bedroom. She explicitly ordered a cold beverage for dinner.

I can only imagine the traumatic memories that resurfaced, based on the personal information you have disclosed to me.

From what I saw, it was purely an accident though that does not excuse Lady ______’s distress. I also had the tea checked for any poisons that could be absorbed through the skin.

Attached is the personal file of the offender. Their punishment is at your discretion.

Rest assured, there will be no repeat of this incident.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ has received your package from Natlan.

The flowers arrived in perfect condition. She spent the most time admiring the Brilliant Chrysanthemums.

She cried while reading your letter.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

Lady ______ finished preserving her previous batch of flowers.

I was also told that she needs a new notebook for her collection, as her current notebook only has a few blank pages left.

She suggested a trip to the local bookstore upon your return.

✿ ⚘

My lord,

At the time I am writing this report, Lady ______’s letter should be en route to Natlan, along with the flowers she preserved for you.

After she gave me the sealed envelope, I checked the trashcan and noticed a crumpled sheet of stationery.

Given the circumstances, I chose not to read it. Instead, I have enclosed the stationery in my report, so that you may be the one to check if there are any secret codes or messages.

-

I hope you like the laurestine. I think it turned out better than the other flowers.

After your mission, what do you want to do? We haven’t traveled to Fontaine yet. The  botanical gardens should be in bloom next season. Or if you want, we can just stay at home. I’m fine with anything.

Please take care of yourself. And tell me if the mission has to be extended.

I miss you.

♡

Read Artifact Set for Capitano’s letter <3

Aahhh I still can’t believe we’ve finally made it to Capitano’s in-game debut. So much has happened since A Winter Night’s Lazzo, and I can’t wait to write more Capitano x Damsel once his lore is available (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

Lastly, I just want to give a shoutout to my beta-reader @diodellet, my mutuals (you know who you are), and my readers!! I rlly appreciate your presence over the years, and thank you for enjoying my work :’>

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @harmonysanreads @euniveve @naraven @ainescribe @mochinon-yah @navxry @euniveve @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @lucidasara @dulcetailurophile @melody3cherryblossom @avryxlle @lumincryo @pinkislost @tylerxrbtwhp @whispereons @tamikahoshiko

[zzeraphilm]

Fight For Me

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (GN) Word Count: 1,882 Part two Summary: Not every relationship is one to admire, passions and everyday lives will always come in the way of romance. But Kuroo Tetsurou only realises this a bit later than Y/N had hoped. After watching the HQ movie in theatres and being the only person in the cinema to laugh I needed an outlet 

The dumpster battle of the century. The booming echoes of Nekoma’s cheers sent shivers down your spine. Each hit of a palm to a volleyball resonated waves that shattered across the arena. Y/N sat slightly hidden from view of the rest of the Nekoma team. 

Prior to the tournament, Y/N saw it befitting to end their relationship with the notable volleyball team captain, Tetsurou Kuroo. Despite his sly and frivolous behaviour, the black haired mop head agreed with a robotic hum. Their time together was not as revered as one might seem. On the outside, the pair were known across the Tokyo school for their names would always slip from someone’s lips. Personalities so unalike and yet they were so in sync. 

Y/N did not want to burden Kuroo’s drive to win. Kuroo did not want to neglect Y/N. Days of no contact turned to weeks. Kuroo was always at practice till nightfall, Y/N was cooped up in their room studying meticulously for their university entrance exams. By the fifth week of no contact beyond school, Y/N had sent a message to Kuroo for the first time in over a month.

Meet me by the park, after practice. 6PM.

The park’s swing set was rusted from the skin of the bolts into the grooves of its spiralling metal. Y/N still kicked their feet lightly whilst perched on the wood awaiting for the captain’s arrival.

6:30PM. 6:45PM. 6:50PM. 6:55PM. 6:57PM. 6:59PM. 

Clumping running shoes came knocking towards the H/C haired figure on the swing. 

“Sorry, practice ran over again.” Kuroo Tetsurou was always the first to arrive at Nekoma’s practice and the last to leave. He decided if practice would overextend. He knew Y/N was waiting, but still only cared for the game. 

Y/N couldn’t help but think that Kuroo saw them as an afterthought. Despite their moments of hilarity and nonsense over the last three years, more often than not Kuroo would see his focus else where, usually towards the court. 

“You’d always say that.” Y/N’s tongue spilt a tiny drop of venom at the end of their comment. 

“It’s the truth.” 

With a huff, Y/N stood to challenge the boy. No, man. Even within a few weeks, he had been scarily evolving to a matured, aged version of himself. Yet Y/N never noticed the way Kuroo’s shirts no longer fitted him the same way, or the slight stubble growing on his chin and upper lip or how his cologne had shifted from a softer, powdery scent, to a peppery Oudh masked with a floral kiss. Y/N didn’t get to experience his metamorphosis from a boy to a man, he saw it with his brothers, his teammates, with volleyball. Y/N wasn’t the first person that Kuroo would go to over news about his life advancements. Y/N was merely a shadow. The awkward smiles that they had to endure whenever their friends mentioned their boyfriend of three years, acting as if they had spoken properly in the last few hours, yet in reality had only seen each other’s faces passing each other in the halls. Not even a hand brush or a light peck. Just stares that lasted mere milliseconds, that held no emotion behind them. 

Kuroo knew he wasn’t giving Y/N enough attention or time. He knew that the trajectory of his life at the moment was solely on volleyball and his studies. Dates, after school hangouts, good morning and good night texts no longer found a place in his daily schedules. His passion for the sport only grew further from the summer camp, where Y/N was abroad on holiday with their family. Which, selfishly, allowed Kuroo to solely think and breathe volleyball. He didn’t call Y/N every Friday night like he promised. He tried but all of his energy was directed in a laser beam towards the court. His heart would beat at exponential rates, each breath would feel like a stab in his throat and he could feel each pulsating beat from his heart pumping his blood throughout his body. It was torturous, yet so incredibly fun he wanted it to never end. Time would stop when it was just him on the court and a ball. But Y/N would never cross his mind. He wouldn’t realise until the next morning when Y/N would attempt some form of contact with a text, usually saying:

Good morning, enjoy your day. Don’t overwork yourself <3

The texts dwindled over time going from paragraphs of care and patience to blunt words of indifference to nothing at all. They both could sense the fading of their bond. They were just scared to see who would be the first to rip off the bandage. 

“Let’s break up. This isn’t working. We don’t have time for each other, it’s not worth the pain of being ghosts of each other and pretending to be okay in front of others.”

Y/N imagined this scenario multiple times before they’d fall asleep. Sometimes Kuroo Tetsurou would scream and wail, grabbing them by their shoulders begging for mercy, begging to stay together, begging for their love. Other times Kuroo Tetsurou would be the first to initiate the conversation, saying how he holds no feelings for them anymore, that there was someone else or some dramatic reason that would paint him to be villain in Y/N’s fantasies. Y/N clung to these thoughts, of a Kuroo Tetsurou that would fight for them, of a Kuroo Tetsurou that would plead for them or a Kuroo Tetsurou who lived up to his perceived image. 

Yet, Kuroo just agreed. Gave a small nod, a wave goodbye and walked off.

As Kenma desperately screamed to reach the ball, it was futile. The yellow and blue ball bounced on the polished court for nearly a second before the huddle of crows screamed in unison. Between the rival teams, Karasuno proved their victory. Y/N would only attend Kuroo’s games if it meant the two would get a bite to eat afterwards, usually at a nearby family diner. Y/N tried to learn the rules of volleyball yet couldn’t handle its quick gameplay. So volleyball felt empty without Kuroo. 

But this game was riveting, Y/N felt their soul boom at each spike and block. Despite having never stepped foot on a court beyond the Nekoma school gym, Y/N craved the illustriousness of the court. The despite to jump beyond the heights of giants and reach the sky, to slam their palm against the flying ball and hear the shattering screams of contact between the ball and the court. Y/N could finally see why Kuroo loved the sport. But, they could only see the back of his frame. They were sure that there were a few tears shed from his eyes. But Kuroo Tetsurou still upheld his Cheshire smile that brought those around him to laugh. As the boys hugged each other, shook hands and exchanged jokes. Y/N knew, they knew why this was more important to Kuroo than they were. They understood what it meant, but just because one can understand doesn’t mean that they aren’t allowed to feel resentment. 

Y/N did not harbour any ill will towards Kuroo himself, rather, they hated the choices that he took. He never fought for them, he never tried, he never challenged them. But most of all, he never truly included them in this world that he loved. Y/N could only see it from a far, from a screen or on the sidelines. Where once they left the world of volleyball, the pair would be in their own bubble, floating far away from those Kuroo considered family. Whether it was their childish adolescent calling for self-centred attention or their lack of understanding of one another. Y/N left the arena silently, returning to their isolated world of study, far from Kuroo Tetsurou. 

After three years, Y/N had achieved their dream of studying abroad in Australia for their bachelors. Their parents had agreed to help fund their masters back in Tokyo and Y/N had made their way back to their home country. Their time in the scorching sun and endless nights of parties, midnight assignment writings and the multitude of faces from across the world shaped Y/N into an alluring individual. They had shed the skin that they were trapped in from high school into a blooming butterfly in adulthood. They had everything aligned to the T, as per their promise to themselves when they were 16. 

Kuroo Tetsurou had not given up volleyball entirely. He used his wit and charm to weasel his way into the top of the industry, working aside the Japan’s Volleyball Association, meeting the best players in the world, scouting them and dinning with them. Of course, he had social media. No one in his field was a stranger to the Internet, every moment, every win and loss was recorded online and he had to know it all. Whilst scrolling one summer’s day, in between the break of the game he was sitting in, he stumbled upon them. 

Y/N L/N. His high school sweetheart. The one that got away. His biggest regret. His biggest loss. 

Kuroo only realised his heartbreak a year after their split, seemingly throwing himself into his studies and passions as a way to mask his mourning. He had gotten so good at busying himself with work and studies that he had forgotten the feeling of heartbreak. Until he craved it. When news of an internship he had wanted for months finally arrived congratulating him on his addition to the team - he wanted to tell Y/N all about it. He absent mindedly found his phone in his hands trying to find Y/N’s contact, only to find it erased. He didn’t need to think, it was like a jolt in his body had awoken, tears flooded his line of view. And for the first time in a year, after months of distractions, he cried for his lost love. 

Kuroo spent the whole night stalking Y/N’s socials, careful not to like them or accidentally follow them. He would stare endlessly at their selfies, photography of the cities they had travelled to and their wide friendship group. Nobody that he recognised. Their followers consisted of strangers to him. He hadn’t felt this empty since the night of losing them. In a drunken slurry of thoughts, Kuroo only saw his fingers dance over the follow button, he didn’t feel the pads of his fingers hit the screen.

It was only until the next morning, he saw that Y/N’s profile no longer existed. 

Their profile was empty, their bio did not load and with every drag, the page refused to load. A previous screen flooded with smiling faces and exciting milestones now replaced with a text merely stating the obvious.

User not found

Kuroo Tetsurou took it as his final sign to leave it. It was too late to reach out, to plead for another chance, it was too late to fight for something that was snuffed out years ago. 

[uwupaige]

the nanny [paige bueckers] part 1

chapter one: snooze.

"shit, shit, shit." was all that could be heard from catherine's bedroom. the chirps of her alarm ringing bounced off of her cream colored walls, with the light of the morning sun, shining perfectly against them. that, and sound of her literally jumping out of her messy bed and making a run for her bathroom were all that filled her senses, not even a moment to bask in the morning glow.

she didn't have any time to. the alarm on her phone, titled, "leave now!" was currently screaming at her, and the girl was just barely making it out of bed.

this was probably catherine's third time being late for work this week, and it was only friday. working long nights at vynil, catherine was lucky to get in 4 hours of sleep. quickly brushing her teeth, catherine went to brush her hair into a  low ponytail. the girl was so relieved to find she had straightened her hair a few days prior. easy hair was what she called it. for weeks like this, when she worked both of her jobs back to back and didn't have time to style it every morning or night.

working two jobs could be a lot at times, but until she finished school, there was no way she would find a job that paid a livable wage. any and all positions she came across all wanted a masters degree and forty-three years experience. and school was already taking a long ass time, too. especially since she was one of the few teenagers that fell for the gap year trope. her gap year took about 2 and a half years, and now, she is just barely starting her bachelor's degree. those thoughts normally consumed her, though she tried to push them far down. all they would do is slow her down.

catherine's days all mushed together. work, school, work, and sleep, if that. however, she would often find the beauty in them. how lucky she was to have the middle of her day off and to herself. and on the rare off chance she was caught up on school work, she would be apple to sit on the porch of her apartment, doing whatever she wanted. a lot of the time, she would find herself daydreaming on that porch. what kind of life she would live if she was privileged in the way that other rich people are—

beep! beep! beep!

catherine's alarm sang to the girl once more from her room. only informing catherine that not only was she late, but now she was extremely late. she sighs, leaving her bathroom to grab her phone from her messy bed, that she decided would be okay to fix later, and turning it off as soon as possible. the sound of her alarm made her skin crawl and her eye twitch.

not bothering to put on any makeup at this point, catherine just grabbed her dented purse and the keys to her 2008, red honda civic, before kissing the top of her cats head goodbye, wiping off any grey furs that tried to leave with her, and ultimately rushing to her shift at 'snooze'.

˚✧.*

catherine tried her best to slip into the breakfast cafe, barely just missing the hostesses eye, but unfortunately, not missing the manager. she was almost to her locker, almost to the final stretch, when she heard the familiar voice of adam—the manager. a man in his forties, scruffy looking, not very tall, who had been there since he was in his twenties. but not only was he a manager, he was the one who made the schedule. so he definitely knew exactly when she was supposed to be strolling into work this morning. and it was not right now.

"kitty cat." came the singy-songy voice of her middle aged, out of shape, manager, adam, a clipboard firm in his hands as he walked through the break room, his sneakers squeaking horrible against the tile. catherine reluctantly looked up, meeting his odd smile. everyone who worked there—matter of fact, anyone who met him—knew his cheerfulness was just plain pretend. "did you sleep well? it looks like we're.." he pauses to look down at his new smart-watch, "twenty-seven minutes late today." he says, seriously dramatizing the twenty-seven.

"better than the 32 minutes on monday.. and yes, i slept great." catherine replied with whit and a smile as she shrugged off her purse and began to open her metal locker. scrolling through the numbers on her lock, adam continued on his speech he prepared for her the minute the clock striked 7:31 a.m. and she was declared late.

"you know, we have a strict policy—here at snooze—about tardiness, as we talked to you about earlier this week with your first two infractions."

catherine wanted to do nothing more than dramatically roll her eyes, huff and puff loudly and yell boring! in his face.

but alas, she bites her tongue. sorta.

"i understand, adam," catherine turns to the man, eye level with her, slight bitterness in her voice, "but there was only one table sat when i walked in, and julie was already serving them." catherine defended herself. yes, she was more than aware that her being this late was not acceptable, and wouldn't be accepted at all in many other fields. however, she would've been stuck with nothing to do until it was lunch hour. that is if she wasn't cut before then because they were so slow. "and, i told you when you hired me that i could only work the lunch shifts, because i work super late at vinyl." vinyl was the night club she bartended at. matter of fact, she had another shift there tonight. unfortunately, though, being a bartender doesn't pay the bills the way it used to. "and now this," she gestures to the both of them, "is an issue that we're having."

adam shifts the clipboard in his hands to rest between his armpit and torso, clasping his hands together dramatically in front of him. he looks down at the ground, as if to collect his thoughts, before loudly announcing, "i think that snooze a.m. eatery is not the best fit for you at the moment, and your role could be filled with someone more prompt. please understand that your shifts at this restaurant are here by extinct for the foreseeable future. your last check will be mailed."

thinking about that last conversation with her manager is still making catherine groan, even a couple hours later, as she helplessly scrolls on job sites. she'd been sitting on her small, light grey couch, scrolling on her laptop for at least half an hour, and nothing was peaking her interest. something was always wrong. perfect hours, horrible pay. or, the best pay she's ever seen, but she'd basically have to drop out. she was about to yell in frustration when her phone began to ring viciously into her earbuds. looking down, she saw it was an incoming call from her best friend. well— her only friend.

pulling her earbuds out by the cord from both her phone and her ears, catherine answered the phone call, immediately hitting speaker phone. "hi mama, what's up?" she spoke aloud, resting her phone on her knee as she kept scrolling.

"just read your text. how're you feeling?" the girl on the other end spoke. it sounded like she was in a car. she was probably on her way to her cute, corporate 10-6 job, which is what she so lovingly dubbed it.

catherine sighed, shaking her head even though no one could see. "like i need to find my own cute, corporate 10-6 job." she jokes, the girl on the line giggling with her. "molly, i don't know what to do. snooze worked out the best with my schedule, and with school. i'm at a loss." catherine confided in her. "nothings peaking my interest."

molly goes straight into problem solving mode, a trait catherine noticed about her when they met their first year of high school in club soccer. molly did work in HR, after all. so, problem solving was kind of her niche. "what aren't you liking about the jobs you're coming across right now?"

"the hours don't work, the pay is shitty, or a combination of both."

"hmm..." the girl on the other end hummed, catherine taking this as her thinking, and thinking deeply. "what about a clothing store? most close before 9, so it won't get in the way of your hours at the club."

"if you hadn't noticed, we're in the middle of a recession, and it's slow season for retail. no one's hiring." catherine responded. and if molly didn't know catherine the way she did, she would've been offended by her tone.

"then maybe you should finish school so you can get a cute, corporate 10-6 job like other people your age." molly replied without hesitation, matching, if not exceeding, her best friends energy.

catherine groans, "mo!" she sighs out a laugh, shuffling in her spot on her couch, going to take her blanket off, feeling a little toasty. molly's evil laughs are the only thing she can hear from the other end. "how embarrassing is it being a 23 year old college student, working two jobs, while everyone else your age is starting their careers, getting married, and having children?"

there's silence before molly speaks again, the sound of her blinker being the only audible noise for her phone to pick up, "like.. a seven outta ten embarrassing."

"you're the worst."

laughing once more, molly says, "hey, you were almost married if it makes you feel any better?"

"thinking about my cheating ex isn't exactly making me feel any better. all i ever see are posts of the two of them."

"social media is nefarious. none of what you're seeing is real," molly explains before she racks her brain for other possible jobs that catherine should consider looking at. "ever thought about childcare?" she loosely and hesitantly throws out the idea.

"jeez, is that what it's come to?"

"i think so, cat... i mean, maybe you could even go back to coaching soccer?"

catherine begins to search for childcare positions in her area through her job search engine. "that was volunteer work, babe.." catherine reminded as she scrolled. "woah. soo many people are hiring."

"mhm. a personal nanny is more affordable than daycare's nowadays. or just as much, but with better care." molly informs, catherine smiling at her best friend through the phone. she always admired how intelligent she was. molly was extremely book smart, the logical sense in catherine's life.

"oh, this one says, 'urgently looking for a nanny in Storrs," catherine reads, sounding enthusiastic at first, her tone then dropping, sighing. "must be flexible... they want two hours in the morning, school drop off and pick up, and evening care... until 11pm?!" she continued to read out loud to her best friend. she was about to click off, appalled at the thought, but luckily, molly interrupted her actions.

"well how much are they paying? if it's enough, you might not even need to work at the club anymore."

"dunno.." catherine mumbles as she scrolls down to the bottom of the description, her eye scanning to look for the hourly rate, and.. "0h, shit."

˚✧.*

"catherine sanchez.. sounds legit, right?"

"kk, you've gotta read their application first, bro."

paige sat at the dark grey couch of her brand new apartment, her daughter present on her lap, curled up against her side as she overheard her teammates begin to bicker at her marble kitchen counter, seated comfortably at her island stools.

"yo, where is that babysitter at, we've gotta go." azzi stressed, getting up from her spot at the island to begin her pace around the main area of the spacious apartment. they all had a game in a couple of hours, and they needed to leave, like yesterday.

"you'll live." kk responded, which just sparked another argument between the two.

the blonde just threw her head back against the sofa, eyes closed, looking for even a moment of calm. however, the bounce of the curly headed girl in her lap was making that nearly impossible. paige just held the girl closer to her and began to rub her back, hoping that would start to calm her. "will you both shut up and give me my phone back?" an annoyed paige interrupted the bickering with a plain voice, her eyes still closed, still searching for calm.

azzi rolls her eyes, grabbing the phone quickly from the girl beside her, walking it over to her best friend. she's about to hand it over to paige, but ultimately retreating the phone back into her possession, "only if you explain." azzi gestures towards both paige and her daughter. kk wasn't far behind her, soon taking the same stance as azzi, wanting answers as well.

opening her eyes and picking up her head, paige's face contorted as she sorta cringed at how serious her best friends were being. "you guys are acting like you didn't know."

"i thought she was with your parents?" kk inquired, quickly falling out of her stance with azzi, opting to slump onto the same couch paige and her daughter resided on, immediately reaching to take the little girl from paige's lap. kk was quietly throwing out baby babble to the 5 year old, instantly making her giggle. she was about to have a field day with this.

"my dad is, uh, trying to get back into work more seriously." the blonde explained as simply as possible for the two, "and he thinks i'm ready to take of her on my own, now..." paige sighs again, "but i can't be mad at him, you know."

"i mean, a little notice would've been a teeny bit helpful." kk spoke up from her baby babbling, but quickly returning.

"oh yeah. three days—so much preparation time." azzi agreed.

"i don't need notice to take care of my daughter. besides, they've spent enough time raising her... my dad's right." paige sighs, a hand running over her face.

azzi frowns for her, sitting down next to her. she hands paige her phone, "look," she says, softly, "someone finally applied." the girl did what she could to comfort her best friend, but to almost no avail. she made eye contact with kk, both sharing a concerned look. they were worried for their friend. when paige called them earlier that day for help, this isn't exactly what they expected. helping their friend find a nanny for her daughter, that is. "you're gonna find someone great to care for madison."

"amazing name choice, by the way," kk snorts, cutting in the middle of azzi's comfort speech. paige goes to fake punch her, kk just holding madison in front of her as the ultimate shield. "what's her middle name? paige?"

azzi unapologetically laughs at that, paige playfully shoving her.

"i was literally only 18," paige defends, and laugh following her words. she couldn't help but find their humor to be comforting.

madison moving in with paige was never the problem, it would never be a problem, but it all happened so fast. after paige got pregnant her senior year of high school, her dad and step mom wanted to take care of madison while paige was away at college. she was just beginning her career, her name out there. she had so much potential. they wanted to support her unconditionally, and believed this would be the best way.

however, they grew increasingly tired as the days went by. at the time, they were still in an understanding that paige would only be gone for those 4 years at uconn, then would return home to minnesota and be in madison's life. however, after paige made the decision to stay in connecticut for another year at uconn, her parents had a serious talk with her. she needed to step up. she could finally start providing for her daughter in ways she couldn't when she was 18. and she needed to do just that.

paige wanted to. more than anything.

nonetheless, she was still so scared. she gave birth to madison a couple days after graduation, managing to hide it from her whole school her senior year, only her family knowing. it wasn't long until paige was sent off to uconn though, having to say goodbye to her daughter for months at a time. it was really hard. all she would think about what madison. she called everyday, but it would never be the same as actually being there. when paige would come home for holidays or breaks, madison would be really nervous around her, hiding behind paige's dad or step mom. it wasn't until paige would go home for long summer breaks that madison would finally get used to her. and she always only called her paige, though. never mom.

and as for madison's dad? it's a topic of conversation that's not up for debate with paige.

"paige," azzi shakes paige out of her thoughts, paige blinking a few times to return to the moment.

"yeah?"

"read her application." azzi encourages once more, pointing at the phone in her hand, "she's the only one who's applied so far."

"because no one wants to work until midnight and then have to be up and back at 7 the next day," paige sighs. her basketball schedule was the only reason she needed the extra help. practice was at any time ever, and games were multiple times a week, going on for a hours.

"catherine sanchez..." paige reads before opening up her application.

moments later, the door bell is ringing.

they open it to reveal the last minute babysitter paige had hired for the night. grabbing their things quickly, and each kissing madison goodbye. they left, but not before paige could remind the babysitter to, "text me if anything. please."

the nanny master list

authors note!

yay first chapter! this was just a lot of needed backstory. chapter two is when the paige interactions begin ;)

also, if you want more frequent updates, my wattpad (@uwupaige) gets like 3 new chapters every week

thank you for reading!🩷

- mari 🫧

3k words.

[mamirhodessxox]

Request for Cody 💜

Cody is on the road a lot and a workaholic, to the point he neglects his wife in a way. He misses date nights, family dinners and a birthday party to the point reader files for divorce. Cody then tries to get his family back. ( 3 year old son Silas , 9 month old daughter Brielle )

Before You Leave Me

Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Desc: Cody has seemed to be more focused in his work life than his own personal home life which leaves Y/N in a conflicted decision that he refuses to accept.

Contents: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of divorce, light false accusations of cheating , use of foul language, arguing, Happy endings :)

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts-deactivated2 @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Being married to Cody was not easy, especially if you were head over heels for the man, You thought that if he settled down, had children, etc, he would be less of a workaholic but boy were you wrong. He was on the road 24/7 You & the kids barely got to see him, You both were parents of 2, a 3 year old son named Silas & your new 9 month old daughter Brielle, He missed out on a lot within MONTHS.

Cody was a man who brought food on the table, he was man of the house but because of his absence it was leaving your song with many questions such as “Why didn’t daddy come to my birthday party?” Or “Why wasn’t daddy here for Christmas?” These were questions you had no idea how to answer to the poor kid other than “Daddy was busy” which was a bullshit answer, He should never be too busy to miss out on his sons 2nd birthday but once the 3rd birthday hit you were sick of it and his false promises. This made you order divorce papers before the birthday as a just incase moment if he didn’t show up to his sons party within a few weeks.

2 weeks prior to Silas’ 3rd birthday you two had argued over work and by the end of that shit show he promised with his entire soul he would be there for his sons 3rd birthday, but ultimately he couldn’t make it because of his schedule. This was becoming a regular habit almost every year, Cody missed out on your guys’ dates, holidays, birthday’s & anniversary..but this was the final straw.

It was the day of your son’s birthday and you waited in the backyard watching your toddler run around with his friends while other parents attempted asking you on where your husband was. You held Brielle in your arms checking your phone every few hours but got no updates from Cody.

And then night time struck. You set Brielle in her crib and pranced into your son’s room to tuck him in bed “Mommy?” You heard the 3 year old chirp out as he sat criss crossed in his bed with a moping expression “Yes sweetheart?” Silas frowned when you got to his level “Where’s daddy? He promised.” Your heart broke in half as your son asked where his father’s presence was, you shrugged and frowned before kissing the top of his head “Daddy got caught up in work sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he huffed and turned to his side once you finished tucking him in you had snuck into the bedroom that used to be shared with you & cody, you kneeled down to the height of your bedside table taking out the papers you had waiting for this very moment & began signing away what you possibly could on your side of the divorce & proceeded to walk downstairs with them and set them down on the kitchen counter next to the pen you had used consenting to the divorce.

around 2:30 in the morning you heard the door open & close in a quiet manner followed by a heavy sigh & luggage being set onto the ground which made you sit up from the couch, Cody looked over towards your direction and smiled lightly before taking notice at the irritated look on your face “You missed his party.” He heard you speak up and stop in his tracks before you stood up “Sweetheart there was problems with the bu-“ “You said that for our anniversary, his 2nd birthday, Christmas, Halloween, the excuse is getting outdated Cody.” He frowned and your words knowing you were right, “Well I’m here no-“ you shook your head while walking past your husband and booking it to the kitchen “I’m tired of this Cody. I love you & you know I do hut it kills me when our son is walking around with a hurt heart whenever he sees another child with a present father, he asks me almost 12 times a day where his daddy is or why didn’t you come to his birthday party. Hell he even requested to have a cake dedicated to yo-“ “Y/N I work like hell to put food on the table and keep a roof under your head!” You widened your eyes and glared “Quite honestly Cody I’d rather fucking starve to death if it meant my son & daughter’s father was present in their life! I’m sick of having all of the neighborhood moms gossiping about our marriage & I’m sick of you not being here for your kids & wife!.”

Cody frowned and tried approaching you but looked down at the counters for a split second and saw papers “What the hell is this?” You shrugged before rummaging through the fridge before pulling out a bottle of wine & pouring the red liquid into a glass “Divorce papers Cody. This marriage clearly isn’t working and I’d rather put it to an end now before it gets worse. You’re 4 steps away from having an affair with another woman with how far away you’ve been from your family so I’d rather prevent you betraying our marriage. I’m mainly doing it for the kid-“ “Y/N I would never cheat on you what the hell are you talking about?!”

You frowned setting down the glass & leaned against the counter behind you with crossed arms “You were nearly late when I gave birth to Brielle, You didn’t show up last Christmas or the Christmas before, You didn’t show up to your sons 3rd and 2nd birthday all for a fucking job that involves you getting punched everyday for a check. You forgot about our anniversary, I didn’t want to do this Cody but this marriage isn’t working, If I stayed any longer nothing would change, I have tried like hell to get you to be here for our family but your too focused on a paycheck then us.” You didn’t notice a tear roll down your face until it dropped onto your arm. Cody frowned & approached your carefully and shook his head “I’m not accepting those damn papers sweetheart, You know I won’t, I’m not leaving you or this fam-“ “You already have, You missed out on Brielle crawling for the first time, You missed out on your son joining the little leagues soccer team and getting a score, You even missed out on be finding out I was pregnant with Brielle Cody. How am I supposed to believe you when you haven’t been here to prove me anything?”

He shook his head and stepped closer towards you and tangled his fingers within your hair and wiped off your face with his free hand “Let me make it right sweetness, let me prove you wrong, I’ll do anything in my power to prevent this from happening, I’ll take time off, I’ll quit anything you want just say the word but goddamnit your not leaving me.” He crouched onto his knees in front of you and kissed your legs gently and gripped at the summer dress he gifted you that was hugging your body in the right ways, You’d never seen Cody beg on his knees before, especially for you to stay with him “Cody I want nothing from you, I don’t want child support from thi-“ “Y/N your not fucking divorcing me, I won’t allow it to happen & if you think for a millisecond in that beautiful goddamn brain of yours that I will then you are extremely mistaken.”

Your fingers ran through his hair as he stared up at you before kissing your stomach down your thigh to your leg before holding your hand and kissing the ring he placed on your dainty finger when you both were wedded. “Cody I can’t keep doing this anymore, You keep making false promises that I know I can no longer believe.” He frowned and gripped at your hips slightly while he shook his head non stop “Y/N I will never ever miss out on another holiday, anniversary, or birthday, it breaks me knowing you expect me to betray our marriage I will do anything in my power to prevent you from leaving me even if it means I quit my job baby.”

You frowned and thought about his words before hesitantly nodding your head which made his stand on his feet and holding your face in the palms of his hands “I promise I will never miss another important day ever again angel.” He mumbled before pulling her into a gentle kiss “I love you..” You muttered against his mouth before pulling away “I-I’m really sorry for pulling the whole divorce thing..” he shook his head and pulled you into a large hug “Don’t apologize sweetheart, I understand your frustrations & more than that but you also know by now that You’re not leaving me that easily” you smiled sadly against his shoulder and pull away while he gently grabbed ahold of your hand and placed a kiss on your wedding ring “Why don’t you go and get some rest alright? I’ll take control of everything tomorrow & I’ll empty out my schedule, go get some sleep alright?”

You held onto his hand and nodded hesitantly before pull away making your way upstairs to the bedroom you two would share, Cody stood in the kitchen & sighed running his hand down his jaw & glared over at the divorce papers before snatching them off of the counter & ripping them to shreds before dumping the pieces of paper in the trash before he went upstairs moments later.

The next morning you woke up to his side of the bed quite cold and empty which made you frown “Cody?” You tried calling out but you soon heard the giggles of Silas souring throughout downstairs which immediately pulled you into relief before climbing out of bed & making your way downstairs & seeing Cody serving a birthday breakfast to Silas which brought a warm smile on your face before approaching him “Morning sweetheart.” He hummed out before pushing a mug filled with coffee towards you which you took into your hands “Morning love” you walked past Silas who was eating the pancakes Cody made him & pressed a kiss into his head before doing the same with Brielle who was in a high chair.

You sat on the couch and looked over towards the kitchen once more & smiled to yourself as Cody kept to his word on being more present for you & the kids, You were immediately happy with the fact he fought for you to not go through with the divorce & ultimately proved his promises too you.

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

[pthalogreenwriter]

Trouville Limerence - Chapter 1

A/n: This is going to be the slowest of burns that I have ever written in my life. If I'm missing any tags, comment what they are and I'll add them!

Wc: 4.1k

Summary: Hitman/Assassin!Gojo x Reader where he's very Yandere but doesn't want to kill you, he is genuinely obsessed with you.

Warning: gore, descriptions of unaliving someone else (tumblr its fake), Gojo being annoying

Satoru Gojo woke up that Friday to the same alarm he woke up to everyday. 

He sat up and slapped his hand down on the clock, promising he would get himself a new one that wasn’t as loud as the one on his nightstand. Gojo was a light sleeper after all, he had to be now that he was in charge of Megumi Fushiguro. 

Fushiguro. It’s been two years since Toji went missing on an assignment and was never heard from again. He dropped Megumi off at Gojo’s in case it took the whole night to get the job done. Turns out, Toji was never able to finish it. 

So Gojo took Megumi in for his friend without question and now years later, he was taking the kid to school, which he didn’t mind at all. Being guardian of Megumi kept him in check. Small mundane things like buying groceries, cleaning up, and schedules became important to Gojo now that he was responsible for someone else’s life. 

Before Fushiguro, Gojo lived the life he wanted to. Working in the day, partying and getting fucked up at night. He brought anyone he wanted home, getting off on anonymity more than the actual person. He was satisfied with the life, no complaints.

And then when Fushiguro came into his life, it changed. No more hookups, he couldn’t just order in anymore since it was unhealthy, and he had to trade in his motorcycle for an actual car. Despite that, he had Megumi. Yeah, the kid was stoic and was always annoyed by him, but Gojo quickly learned that he was like that with everyone, so he wasn’t offended. If anything, Gojo was satisfied that Megumi treated him like everyone else because that way, he knew the kid was comfortable. Yes, he was satisfied with this life too. No complaints.

Except, there was a small one. 

Satoru Gojo was just satisfied. He wasn’t happy. He hasn’t been in a long time.

It was 7:05am when Gojo sighed and decided to get up from his bed, finally waking up Fushiguro even though the kid beat him to the punch everyday like clockwork. He doesn’t know if it was his heightened senses or the food, but Gojo can smell the breakfast aromas coming from the kitchen. He can only hope that Fushiguro saved some for him.

Gojo went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth before going to the kitchen and laughing to himself once he saw Megumi. Although not related, Fushiguro picked up some habits of Gojo before he could stop himself. It started when They would both eat before deciding to get dressed, not wanting to get food on their day clothes. Soon, Megumi started wearing sweatpants to bed when he saw Gojo wake up with different ones all the time, finding them rather comfy himself. The only regret he has with them is that once in a while, both Gojo and Megumi would wake up with matching pants. This annoyed Fushiguro while always amusing the guardian for obvious reasons. This morning was that once in a while.

“Good morning Megumi! How’d you sleep?” It wouldn’t matter what time it was, Gojo always had a better tone than Fushiguro.

A grunt in reply came from Megumi with a “Your food is on the counter.”

Gojo looked and there it was, sitting on the black counter of the kitchen. He grabbed his plate and utensils, thanking Fushiguro by rubbing the top of his head and annoying him further. Gojo continued standing, lower back leaning on the counter while they both ate in silence. Fushiguro’s version of quality time.

Once finished, Gojo washed their dishes and they both continued on with their morning routine. While Fushiguro showered, Gojo picked his standard button up and black slacks for work. Then he did his morning check of the place. 

Prior to Megumi, Gojo was comfortable sleeping with only one lock on the door. He had no deadbolts, windows were open while he slept, and knives were hidden everywhere. He could have taken on anyone who wanted to try it, he knew that. But with someone else under his roof, let alone a child, Gojo knew that if there was a possibility of someone breaking in, then there was a possibility of Megumi getting hurt. And with his line of work, Satoru couldn’t take that chance. 

Gojo killed for a living. He was the murderer of killers, and he loved it. The training he endured as a teen was not what he initially wanted, but he made the best of it. He had no idea at the time what the training would do for him, until one day he decided to actually give “working hard” a try. He became faster, stronger, and smarter when he learned how to hone in on his senses and abilities. 

Satoru excelled at it all, much better than his classmates, with the exception of Suguro Geto. They trained together and when time came, they killed together. All the murderers, pedophiles, and beaters were at their mercy as much as they wanted. It was the thrill of a lifetime to make memories with his best friend while they were at the top of the food chain. Gojo was more than satisfied. Not happy, but close.

And when Toji went missing, Gojo worked on bigger cases that paid more to have more time at home with Megumi. Again, Gojo didn’t care. He would rather take care of him than some freak family he rarely heard Toji talk about. They didn’t even care enough to fight for him in court. 

But Gojo would. He would fight for Fushiguro any day. Now that he had him, he actually had a reason now to give a fuck about himself and someone else. 

Yet, that wasn’t what he was missing, judging by the constant empty pit in his chest. 

He was thinking about this feeling again when he was checking the windows and doors. Gojo didn’t keep knives hidden everywhere because he didn’t think Fushiguro was ready for that conversation yet but he was still glad to feel the ones he had strapped above the living room window and under the right side of the couch. Feeling those in his morning and night checks always helped him relax a little bit and continue on. 

Once Fushiguro left the bathroom, Gojo got ready himself. They were out of the house by their usual time, 8am. Megumi needed to get to his school by 8:30am but lately preferred getting there 15 minutes early to hang with his new friend, Yuji. Gojo was surprised when he first asked, but he was glad that Megumi actually looked forward to talking to someone.

Gojo got to the Kaisen building a little before 9am, like always. Parking his car in the building garage, he took a long deep breath before getting out. 

Yeah Gojo loved his job. Getting paid in millions to kill people worse than him was the dream, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. He toyed with the idea of becoming a regular cop but he knew it would never be possible. The justice system always failed and he preferred the idea of Kaisen fixing the government’s mistakes. Besides, killing was just too much fun.

Satoru Gojo would’ve been the same as the lives he’s ended if he didn’t have his own moral compass. He resented the idea of harming women and children. There was no joy or need to harm them in this life so why do others have that urge? 

It doesn’t matter.

Gojo never listened to their reasoning or pleas. Instead, it made it more fun when they begged him to live. As if he would ever let them. He took his time with his case subjects, just like they would with their victims. Only difference was that he could get away with it. If Gojo ever saw their name on a black file, they never had a chance. 

He wouldn’t always kill the same either. Depending on what they did, Gojo would use different ways to end their lives. Stabbing, burning, if he’s bored, he’ll take them to the woods to hunt them. His personal favorite was by his own hands, beating them to death. 

The only thing each of his kills had in common, was the way he made them look into his eyes as he felt the life leave their bodies. Gojo almost got off on it, if he was that kind of person. But to feel them die in his hands while they looked at him as if he was the monster was the closest he ever got to feeling like a God. 

Gojo took the elevator up to the near top of the building where his office was. He shared the floor with other contractors like Geto and Kento Nanami, men he was glad he could call friends. Both had watched Fushiguro when Gojo had to finish an assignment outside of work hours, helping him as when they all helped Toji. 

Reaching the floor his office was on, the first person that Gojo talked to in the building was Kiyotaka Ijichi. 

Ijichi was leaving Geto’s office when he saw Gojo exit the elevator and mentally prepared himself for the interaction with the contractor. He didn’t hate him, if anything Ijichi was also on the small list that’s trusted to watch Fushigurl on a long day. No, Gojo was just a pain in the ass. 

“Satoru, you were the next person I was going to see.” 

“Awww, did you miss me Ijichi?” Gojo looked at his friend in the suit with a sly smile as his sunglasses slipped a centimeter down the bridge of his nose. 

They entered Gojo’s office, similar to the other large offices on the floor - white walls and ash gray furniture. The desk, couch, and 2 chairs all faced the west side of the room where a TV was hanging on the wall, next to the door of the bathroom. Instead of a back wall, it was large full sized window panes and door, leading out to a black balcony. If you looked close enough, you could see the dust starting to form everywhere but the desk. That’s how much Gojo actually used the office. 

Ijichi wasted no time in his reply, “Actually, no. I’m here about your current case.”

The black folder sat closed on Gojo’s desk as if it was never opened, but he had read it all. Inside the folder, there were pictures of victims, faces and genitals mutilated with what they now know to be a scalpel. Women, early teens to mid 40s, all with exotic colors dyed in their hair as highlights. This was how he chose them.

Depending on the time, the killer would go for women in low or middle class society. The time meaning if he felt like taking a risk or not. Tonight, he was taking a different risk. 

“Well, months after the acquittal and constant surveillance, we can definitely say for sure that Mahito is the Seam Sinner.” This was the name the public came up with after the first two murders. “He waited for it to die down and didn’t go anywhere other than his med-school classes, ordering everything to his place. Until a few days ago, he got bored and we got lucky.” Ijichi paused himself on the update, realizing his mistake. “Although, the girl didn’t.”

Gojo’s usual playful energy escaped from the room at that moment. His expression turned flat, knowing what was to come. Another black file that was in Ijichi’s hand was then placed in front of him. Gojo didn’t notice it until now. 

He opened the folder. Like the others, the girl’s hair was dyed with highlights, this time they were red. Her face and body were cut up with a familiar pattern, shaped like stitches and seams. There was no DNA of his, only pools of her blood around her body, showing that she died of massive blood loss. Pictures of him leaving the abandoned building where her body was later found followed. 

After letting Gojo examine the pictures and reports from Kaisen and the police, Ijichi continued on. “Once her body was found, he didn’t want to wait. Maybe he is on some sort of kill high but last night we found him bringing plastic sheeting and rope he got delivered to his place to another building. He may still already have the scalpel that he’s been using to go at it again tonight.”

The contractor hummed in his seat while he pushed his hands in his pocket and dipped his head. He thought in silence for a moment, confirming what he came up with before. He already knew how he was going to handle Mahito.

“Okay, sounds like a plan.” He wanted to mess with Ijichi one more time before he left the office and said no more. 

The suited man stood in front of the grey desk in silence waiting for Gojo to say something else. No answer.

A minute passed before Gojo collected both folders and tried to give them to his friend. He wouldn’t take them.

Satoru pouted before giving in, his goofy mannerisms coming back like a switch. He was a killer, but silly at heart. He groaned as if this was his second time explaining what he wanted to do. “Keep your men on him for the next twenty-four hours. I have to pick up Megumi from school, but I’ll see him if Geto can watch him tonight. I’ll check him out after lunch but bring me the building address on a sticky note by then. He’ll be gone by the morning. And only him.”

Ijichi was content with that answer yet didn’t leave the room. He wanted to know how Fushiguro was doing, after all, he was close with Tojii too when he was here.

Gojo looked at him from his computer and laughed a bit. “Megumi’s doing well. Don’t worry, he’s doing better in school than I ever did. He’s even made friends.” He saw the surprised look on Ijichi’s face and corrected himself. “Or other kids made friends with him.”

Kiyotaka was finally happy with the exchange of information and left the office without another word. Gojo shrugged on and continued his day with his own thoughts on the Mahito case.

He was acquitted after circumstantial evidence, unreliable witnesses, and no murder weapon was presented at trial. After a while, the body count leaked, pressuring the government to try and close the case as quickly as possible, but ended up letting a guilty man walk free. Kaizen kept tabs on him from the first moment his name popped up in the suspect pool. So did Gojo.

He was looking forward to this moment, not caring to admit it or not. He thought a lot about what he would do if it was Mahito, not having a good feeling about him from the start. By lunch, Gojo didn’t care much to think about how he would kill him, knowing no matter what way he chose, Mojito was going to die while looking into his eyes. 

Once he thought it was a good time, Gojo left the office (with the sticky note) to wait for Geto, driving to lunch together to meet with Nanami. Updating each other on their upcoming weekend plans, Geto agreed to watch Fushiguro that night. He sometimes thought the kid liked to have him around when Gojo was busy. Probably because he didn’t bother him like the way his guardian did on a daily basis. 

The place Nanami chose was quiet in order not to overwhelm any of them. When Gojo and Geto walked in, Nanami had already ordered food for them. He couldn’t wait if he ever wanted to keep to his schedule, yet he never minded having lunch with the pair. 

While they spoke and ate, all three men avoided the topic of work. They all agreed before Toji left that if they wanted to hang out with Megumi, they had to learn to not talk about their cases outside of the office and to have regular conversations. It helped them normalize their lives in a way, not everyone in the world was like them nor saw the things they did. It wasn’t difficult for any of them, but Gojo did have something that he thought was going to be odd to talk about. 

The empty feeling in the pit of his heart hadn’t gone away and he didn’t know what was wrong. He’s felt it before and the pit only grew more hollow as the days passed by. Day after day, the same routine. 

Looking at Nanami’s watch across the table, Gojo had to say something before his friends left. They were going to drive back to the office together while Gojo would surveillance Mahito and pick up Megumi later. 

“Do you guys ever get bored?” He didn’t have a better way to put the feeling into words. 

Both Geto and Nanami looked at him but Geto was the first to speak, “Of you? Of course.”

Satoru nudged his friend in the ribs with his elbow before replying in the same manner, “You could never get tired of me Suguru.”

Nanami across the table looked at the time and sat back finishing his drink. He had a few more minutes, “Bored of what?”

Gojo and Geto were still exchanging elbows when they heard Nanami’s question. Gojo stopped to focus, letting Geto get the last elbow in. 

“Of this, everything. The same routine day in and out. Its starting to get exhausting.” Not only exhausting, but the rut in his chest and head was starting to bum him out. He found it rather annoying. 

“...does this have to do with Fushiguro?” Nanami was almost hesitant to ask the question, afraid to hear his friend’s answer. He had hopes that Gojo would mature with Megumi in his guard and he saw this happen since the child started living with him. But that didn’t mean Gojo couldn’t just one day feel like he wasn’t up for it anymore.

The lean man shook his head immediately, “No, nothing. Things are fine with Megumi.” He paused in thought before giving his friends (and himself) an honest answer. “It's the things in between. There’s always the same next thing to do. I think Megumi felt the same before the start of the school year, until he became friends with that Itadori kid.”

Kento Nanami and Suguru Geto both stayed silent after hearing their friend’s confession. Truth be told, they didn’t know what to say to Satoru. Both men had the freedom and time availability to live the life they wanted, do the things they would want to do if they were in his headspace. But they listened and were sensible, they knew Satoru would only come to them for this.

After another moment, Geto raised his eyebrows in realization and exchanged a look with Nanami, the blonde man knitting his brows in confusion. Geto was signing the check for their lunch when he gave his thoughts, “Maybe you need to find a friend too.”

Nanami shook his head at the idea while Gojo shot his head to the brunette. He thought of this before but he didn’t think it was a good idea to add something, or someone, to his and Fushiguro’s schedule.

When Gojo said nothing, Geto kept going. “I’m not saying get married and tell them what you do. You don’t want to scare them. But maybe you should find someone for those in between moments, someone to look forward to until the next time.” 

“And if I am bored with them too?” That was rhetorical, they all knew Gojo could get someone if he wanted to, only thing was that he never did. Fushiguro was his first priority and he couldn’t bring just anyone home. The idea of bringing a stranger home made Gojo shift in his seat.

It was like Kento could read his mind when he spoke, “It may not be practical to find a person because you’re…bored, but it is reasonable. In time, Fushiguro will start middle school and will want to be with his friends more. By that time, you may need to find something to busy your time with as well. I agree with Suguru, but start slow. Be careful with bringing someone into a child’s life.”

If Geto and Gojo didn’t know who Nanami was, they would think that it was rude or weird that he looked at his watch a lot. Though, they knew he was only being precise and when he arose from his seat unannounced, they weren’t surprised either. 

The three of them walked out the restaurant to the work cars that were parked next to each other. Gojo stayed silent the whole walk. It was a short moment but still it worried Geto, making him want to help his friend further.

“How about this? I will pick up Megumi today so you can go to a bar or something. When was the last time you went out?” He leaned against the passenger side of the black car, Nanami silently groaning from impatience. 

“Going to a bar by myself to pick someone up sounds like the worst idea I could do.” Gojo preferred clubs to bars before he had Fushiguro in his custody. Yet, he never really missed it or had an urge to go. I’ll live.

Geto got in the car with Nanami putting their windows down to finish the conversation. Before they pulled away with no bid of goodbye, Geto secured his offer, “Either way, I will pick up Megumi from school so you can have time to yourself until tomorrow. You should be able to think of something to do with yourself by then.”

As Gojo got in the car and drove, he thought about what his friends said. He couldn’t really imagine getting involved with someone right now, or ever really. It didn’t seem right to bring anyone in his life with the amount of danger he faces, or the amount of danger he makes others face. 

What if I tell them what I do and they think I’m a monster? That would suck.

What if I bring someone home and they hurt Megumi? Poor kid already lost his dad, and I can’t let him get hurt again.

On the way to Mahito’s, Gojo kept his windows in his own car down to distract him from these thoughts and the dullness growing in his gut. He started thinking about his afternoon work plans when he pulled to a stop at a pedestrian walk, focusing on his mental to do list.

Park 2 streets away. His studio is crammed low on the street so I’ll pick the same shop from last time. The girl at the counter likes me so she’ll let me stay as long as I need. Mahito will leave for class at 14:00, taking the-

Satoru stopped thinking. He couldn’t at all. It was like he didn’t have power over anything in his body except smell. It was a smell that made him stop everything. 

The light was still red and Gojo’s demeanor changed. His body stiffened, eyes going wide behind the sunglasses and head turning from one place to another to try and locate where it was coming from. The ambrosial smell was fresh and crisp, yet soft. But to Gojo, it was strong, so strong that it seemed to clear his sinuses. 

Water hyacinths? No that’s not it.

His nose flared with every inhale he took through his nose. It was addictive and he couldn’t get enough of it. He needed more. 

Lilies and mint? Where is it coming from?

His grip on the wheel tightened as he turned his attention to the people on the pedestrian walk. He inhaled through his mouth, wanting the smell to be deep inside his lungs, to imbed inside his capillaries and blood vessels, spreading throughout his body. 

Lotus. Eucalyptus. A hint of baby wipes, soft clean cotton.

It was as if once his mind realized what it smelled like, it led him to you.

The sight of you was breathtaking. Gojo ended up replaying this moment in his head everyday for the rest of his life. The way you scurried across the white lines before the light could turn green made the corner of his lips turn up. You seemed in a rush, and it was the cutest thing he’s ever seen. He saw you rushing through the crowd of people in the street, your cheeks becoming flushed and a thin layer of sweat grew on your body. He could smell that too. 

You were long past the crosswalk when a car behind Gojo beeped at him. The light was green. 

Mahito can fucking wait.

[missjomarch]

catching flights

luca fantilli x reader word count: 1.5k warnings: none :) just fluff a/n: unedited and first writing in a while. I needed something to force the writers block out of me :')

You anxiously drummed your fingers against your arm rest as you glanced out the window for what felt like the millionth time. It had been about 10 minutes since the flight attendant announced that the plane would be landing soon, instructing everyone to fasten their seatbelts. However, it wasn't the landing that had your heart pounding.

You hadn't seen your family or your boyfriend, Luca, in 5 months. Originally, you had been ecstatic to embark on your study abroad trip to France. But you had been entirely unprepared for how much you would miss the people back home, Luca especially.

Having moved from your home in New York to Michigan for college, you were accustomed to being distanced from your family. However, you'd been with Luca almost everyday for the past year and a half. While you two had never navigated a long distance relationship, you were both confident your relationship could survive the trip.

You had planned the whole thing out, scheduling FaceTime dates often and promising to update each other pictures throughout the week (yours were admittedly a lot more interesting). Luca even had flowers delivered to you from a local florist in France on multiple occasions. Your love didn't dwindle with the distance, but it was the smaller things the two of you didn't account for prior to the trip.

Both of you struggled with the time difference, of course, but being without each others support on the hard days was the most difficult part. You couldn't go curl up in Luca's bed after a bad day, or meet him for coffee during your class break. There were no pregame naps or post win parties to be had. But the absolute worst part was missing hockey playoffs.

Luca was always incredibly hard on himself after a loss, and the playoffs only amplified this. You had to watch through your phone screen as he broke down after losing in the championship. You didn't think it could get worse than the lose to Quinnipiac the year before, but somehow it had. You did your best to comfort him from afar, but it shattered your heart seeing his pain and being unable to just be there. Not only did it pain you to see Luca's defeat, but the rest of the boys as well. The team had become your family, most of the boys even referred to you as 'mom', and you hated being unable to comfort them.

After that night in April, time seemed to go by a little quicker, and you were now finally headed home. You had begun counting down the days until your return the second your plane landed in France. And, despite him chastising you for this, so had Luca. But the day had finally come, and Luca would be waiting to pick you up and the airport.

He had texted you that morning to let you know he'd be picking you up instead of your mom. To say you were excited would be a drastic understatement. Originally, he wasn't going to be able to come see you in New York until 2 weeks after your arrival because of a golf trip with 'the boys'. But, in his words, he "missed you too much". So he skipped the trip to come welcome you home instead.

The plane landed at the airport right on schedule, and you quickly grabbed your carry-on before making your way to baggage claim. After you told Luca you had landed, he sent you the location of where he'd be waiting. You were about to burst with excitement, entirely prepared to grab your bag and haul ass to the airport lobby.

However, as you descended on the escalator you noticed a familiar blond smiling up at you. Luca had already grabbed your bags, and was waiting for you near a bench in the corner.

You couldn't stop the wide grin that formed, and you had to refrain from toppling over the people in front of you on the escalator. As soon as you reached the bottom, you were sprinting towards him.

"Lu!" you shouted, dropping your bags and practically tackling your boyfriend. Your arms wrapped around his neck as your legs found his waist, and you were finally reunited. You had promised yourself that you wouldn't get overly emotional, but you could feel the tears that were beginning to well. Luca chuckled as you clung to him, wrapping his arms around you to return the tight embrace.

"There's my girl," Luca mumbled into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume for the first time in months.

You couldn't care less about the attention you had attracted with your dramatic display. It was just you and Luca in the world right now, that's all that mattered. You basked in his embrace for what felt like hours. He didn't release his hold until he heard your sniffles, only then did he pull away to look at your tear streaked face.

A look of concern crossed his face, "Hey, no tears. What's that all about?"

"I just really missed you," you mumbled, slightly embarrassed by your level of emotion.

Luca had set you down now, and his hands came up to brush your hair from your face before resting on your cheeks. A small smile played at his lips.

"I missed you too, love. But there's no need for tears. You're back with me now, yeah?" You nodded in response, sending a small smile back. "And you're literally not going to be able to get rid of me for the entire summer. You're gonna be tired of me before the month is over."

You shook your head at this, "I could never get tired of you, Lu."

Luca didn't respond, instead leaning down to give you a long overdue kiss. Your hands made their way to grab where his wrists rested by your face. You pulled away before the kiss could get too intense, but you both still pulled away breathing heavily.

Luca rested his forehead against yours, "God, I missed that so much."

"Really?" You scoff, playfully shoving his shoulder, "Is that all I'm good for Fantilli?"

"Well I definitely didn't miss your attitude," Luca rolled his eyes, only to be met with you smacking him across the head. He quickly corrected himself.

"Ouch. I mean of course not, baby. I love everything about you."

"That's what I thought." You were about to place another kiss to your boyfriend's lips when an all too familiar voice sounded to your left.

"You guys can't seriously be fighting already."

"Come on Fants, she just got back."

You look to find none other than Seamus and Rutger approaching you. You gasp, quickly wiggling out of Luca's hold to throw your arms around the boys.

"MY BABIES!!" You exclaim, practically jumping with excitement. Luca stands to the side, jaw dropped as he watches the interaction.

"Damn, Fantilli. We've done stole your woman," Rutger pokes at Luca, giggling at the scowl on your boyfriend's face.

"You two were supposed to wait in the car," Luca grumbles, voice exposing his mild jealousy.

"And miss this reaction? Not a chance, bro."

Luca only glares at Seamus, turning to wrap his arm around your waist. He presses a chaste kiss to your temple before mumbling a "surprise" in your ear.

"Careful, Lu. You're looking a bit green." You whisper back to your boyfriend.

Luca groans, "The least they could do is give me 15 minutes alone with my girlfriend. Who I haven't seen in 5 months, in case you forgot." Luca sends a pointed look to the two boys standing before you.

They both just shrug, throwing their hands up in mock surrender.

"Neither have we, bro. That's our mom. It's on you for bringing us along," Rutger says.

"And I'm sure you guys will get plenty of alone time tonight," Seamus suggests, winking at you.

"Okayyyy, that's enough of that," You joke, "I'm going to guess this means the boys trip wasn't actually canceled on my account."

"More like relocated," Luca responds with an innocent smile. You just roll your eyes, nodding in acceptance.

"We promise not to steal him away too much, y/n. Don't you worry."

You let out a small laugh, "thanks shea."

Turning to Luca, you yawn slightly. "I am incredibly jet lagged though, so can we go home?" Luca nodded, turning to grab your bags. You stop him, and he looks back at you confused.

You jerk your head to the two idiots behind you, "let them get it."

"I think your thinking," Luca smiles at you before intertwining his hand with yours. The boys grumble, but pick up your luggage nonetheless. They complain the entire way to the car, only to be met with your apathy.

"You two are the ones who decided to come inside. You could've been sitting pretty in the car instead," you smarted back. This shut them up quickly, and you looked up to find Luca grinning at you.

"What?"

"I missed you so much."

[chuusheartattck]

THAT’S THAT ME ESPRESSO (TTME)

Chapter 32- Flashback mary ☕️

*This is a flashback chapter to Y/n and Scara’s high school days*

It was homecoming day, not any homecoming, but the last one you were ever going to experience in high school. It was your senior year and you wanted to make the most out of your last year of high school.

Your morning started out normal. The group chat was buzzing with excitement. They were also happy that Scaramouche was going to be hanging out with the group after being away for a while. He was always with his other group of friends, the ones you tried keeping away from.

You knew that Scaramouche was nothing like his friends. It was just upsetting that he wouldn’t publicly stick up for you. Despite all that, you and Scaramouche still called every night and shared things about each other’s day. He was good company to have.

The weeks leading up to the dance you both didn’t have a date. The two of you teased each other and called each other bitchless for not going with anyone but friends. However, without either one asking, it was pretty much unspoken that you two were going together. Only nobody knew, maybe besides Hu Tao and Childe. You two were also going in a group of friends. Nevertheless, as long as you hung out with him throughout the night, you didn’t really care.

You got ready at Hu Tao’s house. You both were running a bit behind schedule, mostly Hu Tao making both of you late. The two of you were supposed to meet up with the group to take photos but that didn’t happen.

When the two of you finished getting ready it was already 7:15, homecoming started at 7:00.

“Hu Tao we are so late.”

“It’s fine! The others are barely on the way there now. Even if the line is long to get in, we can just cut with people we know.”

Hu Tao’s time blindness made you concern but you shrugged it off. Her parents were driving you there. There weren’t any official plans on what to do after but someone is most likely throwing a party. Nobody knew who yet.

Hu Tao was wearing a short but simple burgundy dress. Her hair was styled into her iconic pigtails and you thought she looked very pretty. However, she got some new black high heels and can tell she was struggling to walk.

“Are you ok?” You asked as the two of you descended down the stairs.

“Yeah I just need to break into these shoes more,” Hu Tao held onto your hand and the staircase railing to prevent herself from falling.

“By the end of the night you’re going to take those things off.”

“I hope not. These were expensive and I want to make them last.”

You playfully shook your head and got to the bottom of the stairs. Her parents were already waiting for you both.

“Hu Tao you look so gorgeous! Y/n you look amazing as well!” Her mother complimented you both.

You thank her and noticed Hu Tao’s dad taking out his phone for pictures.

Hu Tao tried protesting against it saying how late you guys were but eventually gave in. After a few photos, her mom was driving you both to the school. Teyvat High School only booked venues for winter formal and prom. Homecoming was always at the school. Luckily, it was an outdoor school.

“Is anyone there already?” You turned to ask Hu Tao.

She was texting the group chat so you didn’t bother to look at your phone yourself, “Lumine said they’re all in line already. They’re at the back and the line is long apparently,” She replied back.

“I hope they play good songs this year. Last year was kinda boring.”

“That’s because last year you went with some complete weirdo.”

Hu Tao wasn’t wrong. The year prior, you were talking with someone and you two went to homecoming together. You both left an hour in because his friends wanted to go somewhere else. You wished you had stayed longer but you didn’t want to complain. You two never dated because you soon found out he only wanted you because you were a trainee. Instantly broke it off.

You two finally arrived and it already 7:50. It was dark out but you could still see the number of students in line. There was security watching the line as well to make sure that nobody was cutting.

When you two got out of the car you heard some people gasp and point at Hu Tao. Sometimes you forget she’s a rapper under a big company. You quickly spotted your friends and waved to them. Only Lumine noticed and grabbed the other’s attention. They motioned for the two of you to come into line with them but a guard was watching. Fortunately, he spotted some other people trying to cut into the line and started to walk towards them.

You and Hu Tao wasted no time merging into line where your friends were and acted like you were there the entire time.

The group was all there, Cyno, Kazuha, Aether, Thoma, Lumine, and last but not least, Scaramouche.

You and him made eye contact and he looked really good. Granted, he was wearing a normal suit that looks like every other guy there but he was wearing the dark purple tie you said he should get.

“The fuck are you staring at?” Scaramouche glared at you with a dirty look.

“Not your ugly ass,” You move away rolling your eyes, “I was looking at how pretty Lumine is.”

Lumine was wearing a blue dress that complimented her figure. She reminded you of Cinderella with her blonde hair.

“You barely got into line and you two are already fighting,” Kazuha sighed.

“You two need to settle this feud in bed,” Cyno laughed.

“I would rather listen to Hu Tao’s shitty song on repeat than ever get into bed with Y/n.”

“Who are you calling a shitty song?” Hu Tao yelled back.

“Ok! Time for shots!” Aether interrupts. He swung his arms around you and Hu Tao’s shoulders, handing you guys a small shot bottle of Tito’s.

“There was more but we pre gamed in the car and could only save you one bottle each,” Aether explained.

“Maybe if you weren’t so late you could’ve gotten more,” Scaramouche chimed in.

“You sound obsessed,” You grumbled cracking open the bottle. You made sure to turn away from the security guards so you don’t get caught.

As you were chugging you felt the burning sensation of the vodka pour down your throat. Alcohol never tasted good, you just wanted to loosen up more.

Cyno thought it would be funny to slightly tilt the bottle as you were drinking, causing the remaining alcohol to spill all over your mouth and onto your outfit.

You began to choke and cough.

“What the fuck!” You yelled in between coughs. Your throat was stinging and becoming increasingly dry. You were hoping to get inside soon so you can grab a water bottle.

Only Cyno and Aether bursted out laughing, everyone else tried holding back their laugh. You wiped your mouth and tried wiping down the wet spots on your clothes. Not even inside and your clothes were already ruined.

You guys were about to head inside, quickly you and Hu Tao threw the tiny bottles into a bush. The school would probably just find it later.

After getting checked in, you immediately went over to a table to grab some water to soothe your throat. This time, you drank away from your friends.

“Where should we go first?” Thoma pipes up. The school had a big budget and the student council spent all of it on a DJ, food trucks, gaming trucks and photo booths.

“Let’s go in the mosh pit!” Hu Tao suggested, pointing to the crowd of people in the distance.

This was high school and their version of a mosh pit is just jumping up and down while also shoving people when their favorite song plays. It’s fun for a little but you feel like you’ll get trampled after a while.

“I’ll sit this one out. I want to take photos first before sweating off my makeup,” Lumine says, sitting down at a nearby lunch table.

“Yeah I’ll wait till after we take photos, my mom will get pissed if I look terrible in them,” Thoma replies, sitting down next to Lumine.

Kazuha sits down on the opposite side of the table, “Mosh pits aren’t really my thing. We’ll wait here until you guys are done, then we can go to the photo booths. Is that ok with you guys?”

“Boo you’re no fun! But ok we’ll only be in there for a little bit,” Hu Tao replies as she sets downs her purse onto the table, “Watch my bag.”

The rest of you make your way over to the crowd.

Fein by Travis Scott began to blast through the speakers. You saw people rushing in and took it as a sign to do the same. Luckily, Hu Tao didn’t mind shoving people out of the way. She grabbed your hand and all of you guys made your way in.

Despite holding onto her hand, it still felt like you were going to fall. You were jumping up and down to the song but there were more people coming in and bumping into you. The mixed smell of sweat and Dior Sauvage made the air feel hot and heavy.

You were going to need a break soon. However, the next song being Family Ties by Kendrick and Baby Keem didn’t want to make you stop. More and more people were coming in and you were getting pushed around.

Your grip from Hu Tao was slipping and it really did feel like you were going to fall. You quickly grabbed onto the arm of the nearest person, which happens to be Scaramouche.

He looked at you and noticed your predicament, “Dumbass,” He muttered, rolling his eyes as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

You couldn’t help but smile and continue jumping. His grip was a lot stronger than Hu Tao’s which made you feel more safer. You weren’t worried about anyone noticing since everyone was occupied with not getting trampled.

After a few more songs played, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Your breath hitched thinking you had been caught. You slowly turned around and felt relief when you realized it was only Cyno. Granted, he didn’t know anything about you two but it would’ve been worst if it was a stranger.

“Hey, let’s take a break Aether doesn’t feel well and I don’t want him throwing up.”

You nodded and whispered to Scaramouche who also nodded and stopped jumping. You held Cyno’s hand as he led you two out of the mosh pit, like the buddy system.

As the three of you got out, you felt the cold night air against your skin. It felt nice after being in that stuffy environment. You didn’t realize how much you were sweating and panting. You looked down and noticed you were still holding Scaramouche’s hand.

He scoffed and quickly pulled his hand back.

Whatever.

You made your way back to the table and saw Aether with his head down and groaning.

“Holy shit are you ok?” You asked concerned for your friend.

Aether simply put his thumbs up in the air. He wasn’t too good with tight spaces. You sat down next to him and Lumine. She was the more famous twin but you were never really close with her. She was always away filming and doing photoshoots. You sometimes wonder how he can be related to her.

“Can you get up already? You’re so dramatic.” Lumine sighed, pinching her nose bridge, “The photo booth line is going to get longer the more we wait.”

“Is that anyway to treat your brother?” Aether mumbled, he looked up to glare at his sister before putting his head down again.

“I should’ve eaten you in the womb,” Lumine shot back.

After a few minutes, Aether was feeling less nauseous and was ready to take photos.

Fortunately, there was no line and all eight of you squished your way into the photo booth. It was quite spacious but it did feel tight being all there together. There were props and signs laid out inside and everyone took something.

The booth only took four photos. In the first photo, you and Thoma had your arms around the other person’s shoulders and pointing at each other. In the second photo, you did a simple peace sign. In the third photo, you were hugging Hu Tao.

In the last photo, Kazuha accidentally elbowed Scaramouche which prompted him to almost fall. Due to everyone cramped up next to each other, you all came down with him. The photo captured everyone trying not to fall and nobody looked their best, except Thoma. He was the only one who looked at the camera and posed.

Everyone got out and waited for the photos to be printed.

“I apologize to the person’s ass who I grabbed while trying to keep balance,” Aether says, scratching the back of his head.

“I think that was mine dude,” Cyno replied laughing.

You rolled your eyes, “Scara is so weak that he stumbled when Kazuha barely tapped him.”

“See how weak I am when I punch you in the face,” Scaramouche grumbled as he took the photos from the machine, handing them to each person.

You looked down at the photo collage as you all began walking back to your table. You smile fondly at what would only be a distant memory in the future. Your senior year had only started but it will quickly end before you could even blink.

You didn’t want to miss out on the good memories like this one.

.

.

.

Everyone had split up after a while to do different activities. You all agreed to meet up when the night ended but for now, you lost everyone and didn’t know what to do. You had just came out from the mosh pit and your feet were hurting too much to continue. You decided to take a small breather somewhere far away from everyone.

You went up the stairs that leads to one of the buildings that had a balcony where you can see the football field. You would come up here when you were bored with class and wanted to walk around.

Only this time, it appears you weren’t alone. You noticed a familiar figure already looking out. One of which you were hoping to get alone time this night.

He heard your footsteps and turned around to look at you.

“Can’t you see I was here first?”

“Can’t you see that I don’t give a fuck?” You scoffed and stood next to him. He didn’t move from his position.

Scaramouche sighed and took out a pack of cigarettes.

“How did you get those pass the security?”

“I have my ways,” He said while putting one in his mouth and casually lighting one.

He took a long drag and exhaled, making sure to clear out the smoke with his hand. He silently passed it onto you.

You took it from his hand, “If we get caught we’re getting suspended.”

“Maybe they’ll suspend you but definitely not me. I’ll just have my agency contact the school.”

“You and your fame.”

“Something you wouldn’t know about.”

You scoffed, “In case you forgot, I was on that idol survival show. People still know me.”

“Yeah but who didn’t debut.”

You stood silent. It was pointless ever getting into a petty argument. He knew how to silence you every time.

You only took out your phone in response.

“Let’s take a photo together!”

“Hell no. Don’t you have the one we took with the others?”

“Yeah but I want one with just us. Let’s take a 0.5 photo.”

“No.”

“Too bad we’re taking one anyways.”

Scaramouche rolled his eyes and got closer next to you. He looked straight at the camera as you took the photo. When you were done you looked at the photo.

“See how cute we look!”

He side eyed you, “I’m the one that looks good. Not so sure about you though.”

“Fuck you.”

Scaramouche tried to hold in his laughter as he looked away from you.

“Kidding. You look better than normal,” Scaramouche says, putting out the shared cigarette and throwing it off the ledge.

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

“Thank you? Uh, you too I guess,” You huffed, leaning forward against the railing.

There was a moment of silence shared between the two of you as you both stared at the football field in front of you. The distant sound of music only filled the air. It was a comfortable silence and you wished it would last forever, staying by his side like this.

It was cold up on the balcony and the night breeze caused you to shiver a bit. Scaramouche of course noticed.

“Are you cold?”

“No.”

“No,” Scaramouche mimicked your voice, “Yet you’re starting to shake more than a tweaker waiting for his next fix.” He said in his regular voice as he took off his suit jacket and put it over your shoulders.

“I didn’t ask for your jacket,” You tried protesting. You secretly enjoyed it though, that’s why you held it closer to you.

“Do you want it or do you want to continue being cold?”

You didn’t respond.

“Exactly,” Scaramouche huffed in annoyance.

You enjoyed moments like these. Ones where it was the two of you alone and you can talk freely like this. It made you upset whenever it ended, because you knew he would go back to ignoring you in the hallways.

You were getting lost in your thoughts and his words from earlier kept coming back.

“Who didn’t debut.”

It was silly to get stuck on that. You knew the votings were rigged, everyone did, but it still hurt. You gave it your all and worked hard to debut but it wasn’t enough.

You had gotten back to school and it was all anyone could talk about. You’ve gained sympathy and comfort from others, but it didn’t make the failure any less painful.

It made you realize how things can come and go so quickly. That’s why you had a bittersweet feeling about being in your last year of high school. It has been a rough four years and you were glad to not be able to see some of your peers, but what about your friends?

The friends that have been supporting you through everything. They’re going to be studying in different universities. It’s going to be hard to keep in contact and you’ll be trying to train your ass off to debut.

“Do you think after the school year ends, we’ll still be in contact with each other?” You piped up, breaking the silence to look over at him.

He hesitated for a moment before replying, “I don’t see why we wouldn’t.” Not sparing a glance at your direction.

“It’s just your popularity is rising and if I don’t end up debuting then it’ll be hard to keep in contact with you. It’s easier to continue seeing each other if we’re both in the entertainment industry,” You managed to say, looking away from him this time.

“You’re worried I’ll forget about you?”

“You’re making me sound desperate,” You mumbled, hint of annoyance in your tone.

“The company would be stupid if they only keep you as a trainee forever. You’re not untalented and you put in the effort. Some look helpless on stage, but not you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. Despite Scaramouche being an asshole half the time, he knows when to be sorta nice.

You two often shared things that were troublesome. It was almost like the other one knew what the other one was feeling at the moment. It was something special you two had. Even when one of you was being emotionally constipated, you both still tried your best to give advice to the other person.

“Though, you can work on your dancing skills,” He quickly said.

Never mind. Moment ruined.

You smacked him on the back of his head. He always humbles a person after giving a rare compliment. Most of the time it’s backhanded.

Scaramouche was about to say something but the two of you heard footsteps coming from behind you guys. You both froze not wanting to turn around, afraid it was someone that would freak out if they saw the two of you together.

A familiar voice rang through both of your guy’s ears, “Y/n? Scara?”

You both turn around to see Thoma standing there. You sigh a wave of relief when you see your friend. Though, he’s definitely confused on the close proximity you and Scaramouche are sharing, but doesn’t say anything.

Instead he says, “It’s almost over. Let’s head back to the car. Do you guys need a ride?”

You both nod in unison and begin to follow Thoma back. You silent give Scaramouche his jacket back. It’d be a scandal if people caught you with him like this.

The three of you silently make your way to the parking lot where the others were. You didn’t realize how many of you there were until you thought about the car situation.

“Ok there’s no way I’m fitting all of us into my car,” Thoma sighed pointing at his suv.

“Too bad, make it happen. You have a big enough car. Two people can sit in the trunk, three people in the backseat but someone has to sit on someone’s lap, and the other person sits in the front,” Cyno suggested.

Everyone agreed right away, however, Thoma hesitated before agreeing begrudgingly. That’s how you ended up sitting in the trunk with Scaramouche. Lumine, Hu Tao, Aether and Cyno were all in the backseat. Aether sitting on Cyno’s lap and Kazuha in the front seat.

Before you even left the parking lot, you guys were discussing on where to go.

“I heard Keqing is throwing an after party,” Cyno mumbled, barely heard from Aether sitting on him.

“Dude I swear if I feel something hard underneath me,” Aether grumbled, clearly him sitting on Cyno’s lap was not his first choice.

“I can say the same for you,” Cyno argued back.

You didn’t know how you and Scaramouche ended in the trunk. It was pretty spacious given the car model so it wasn’t too uncomfortable and you both had leg room. You just sat on opposite sides from each other.

“Can we get food? I’m lowkey hungry as fuck right now,” Kazuha mentioned. While everyone was arguing on who sits where, he silently hopped in the passenger seat.

Everyone agreed and that’s how you ended up at In-N-Out at midnight. It wasn’t packed but you guys stood out due to your attire. It’s not like you guys gave a fuck though.

After you all finished with your food, you guys decided to go to the park since you didn’t want the night to end. It was around two in the morning and you were sitting on a bench watching your friends mess around at the playground.

It was nice to see everyone goof around. However, it brought you back to that bittersweet feeling you noticed before. Seeing their smiles and hearing their laughter. There's this warmth in your heart, knowing how much joy you all bring to each other. At the same time, there's a tinge of sadness because you realize this might be one of the last times you’re all together like this. It's your last year before you all go your separate ways, and you can't help but cherish every moment, knowing that soon, things will change.

After a while, everyone got tired and Thoma dropped everyone home. You put the photo booth photo on your dresser, next to the photos you had of your friends.

.

This is the memory you had just remembered as you stare at that photo. The photo of your friends at your last homecoming. Setting the photo down, you look back at your phone. You haven’t contacted your friends since school has ended, even though you promised. Things have gotten busy but you miss them dearly. One day, you’ll have a reunion and it’ll be like the old times.

Masterlist II Previous II Next

A/N: Sorry this took a while I’ve been busy studying for tests 😓 Also as a little hint: this friend group is the same one in my next xiao smau (except for thoma he’s a replacement) so this is what would happen if xiao wasn’t in the picture at all :) Also i tried to write the mosh pit scene based on experience 😭 Do not go into one in heels my feet were so bruised and bleeding by the end.

ALSOOO lmk if you guys want your users to be added to this au and i’ll make you a twitter user :)

Synopsis: You’re a new idol that just debuted under ‘Fontaine Entertainment’ with your new single ‘Espresso.’ You just graduated high school which means all your classmates are shocked to see you into stardom. Including your old situationship, who happens to be an actor.

Taglist: @skyoverkill1 @quacking-simp @lolmeowing @astro-stars @kaitfae @sl-vega @scarawiki @yuminako @samyayaya @skyvella @kur0kki @practicoi @kukikoooo @scaraenthusiast1 @shutingstar @lloovvv @moonjellyfishie @miy-svz @xionri @lalalaloveallmydays @hearts4lizzzz @kathiwis @state-of-grac3 @morgyyyyyyy @scaradooche @theyluvkatt @meigalaxy @noirechomps @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @vxcmx @ariesloves @cayl33n @animeobsessed56 @heartsforni-ki @feikyuu @ichcocat @strayharmony943 @chscklvr @kunikissr @jiminscarmex @sp1ng @bananasquash @aceakariii @thegalaxyisunfolding @ariilies @hisfuture @automaticpatroltragedy @sartrst @cheriswag @kokomiskiss @albedomestic-airline @lxkeeeee @sundays-prince @wvvyq @amurotoorudesu @ennsposts @illu-fu @vitanye

[lactoseintolerentswag]

Spider-Man Noir: The Timeline Part 1 (2009, issues #1-4)

Okay so Noir is a wild ride considering how Quickly everything happens, so I took a dig at tracking the time passed through each plot point. Obviously Heavy spoilers if you haven't read the Spider-Man Noir (2009) run. Go read that now if you want to keep digging here. If not that's fine, this is like. For me and 4 other noir heads in my notes.

Spider-Man Noir begins with a flashforward with Noir in a particularly incriminating scene with "JJ" in January 1933.

However Noir's story starts three weeks earlier in December 1932.

Now it's unclear in the shift to Urich's perspective when he says "three weeks ago", whether he meat three weeks prior to his murder or three weeks prior to where the flashforward took place. I'm operating off the belief that it's the former.

So, our notes start:

All within the same night Ben Urich meets Aunt May (who he has never seen in person, but is aware of her reputation) and Peter, takes Peter to the Black Cat speakeasy, and sets Peter up with a job at the Bugle

Within the first week of working under Urich, Peter opens up to Urich about what happened to his Uncle

Two weeks later, Urich and Peter's photo of the fire makes it to the late edition of the Daily Bugle. Btw the late edition of a paper is published in the evening, and can cover breaking news that wasn't covered in the morning edition

Within this same night Peter discovers Urich's drug addiction, takes a call meant for Urich's "Spider" alias, witnesses Goblin's goons move around boxes of artifacts meant for the Metropolitan Museum, and gets bitten by one of the spiders from the broken statue

The next morning Urich has a meeting with the Goblin, Peter attacks the Goblin, and retreats upon the discovery of Urich's involvement

That night Urich plans to spill all his collected black mail to the Bugle, but is killed by the JJ imposter, in which Felicia secretly witnesses. This same night Peter sews together his suit, and is the one to find Ben's body

Interrupting the flow here to poke at this. This bit of inner monologue gives us an estimate to when Uncle Ben was murdered. Six months ago from an unspecified time in January is about the middle of summer, but only if Peter is being straightforward about how much time it would take to save Uncle Ben.

Other tid bits about Uncle Ben:

Served as a pilot in the first WWI, but was ashamed of his part and refused to take out his uniform (in which Peter will transform into his suit)

A year ago, Uncle Ben helped organize demonstrations that shut down 3 of Adolfus Crane's (an industrialist we see at the Black Cat) sweat shops

Anyway back to our regularly scheduled bullet points.

Peter was plucked off the streets into the Black Cat, "The day after Urich was rubbed out." As per Urich's wishes, Felicia entrusts Peter with all the black mail files he had complied of the Goblin's inner workings.

Two days after Urich died they threw his funeral.

For an unspecified amount of time Peter began working on crumbling the Goblin's influence in NY. Long enough for news articles to be made about "The Spider-Man", and long enough for the Goblin to be given a week's deadline to get rid of him. I would estimate between one to two weeks in consideration of the later time skip

Interrupting the flow again to poke at this specific file here. It's labeled "Freak Show Coney Island 1928". It's unclear whether this is the date Urich complied these documents, or the date in which the freak show took place. If it was the latter, that would mean the Goblin's entourage has only been serving him for about five years. Since there's no indication of how long Goblin has been terrorizing this city, I can't confirm either case.

Something that can also be considered about the length of Goblin's hold on the city is that he's been there long enough for Felicia to leave Ben for, and for Felicia to eventually leave the Goblin himself.

Anyway back to our regularly scheduled bullet points.

The night that Peter goes to confront JJ after the publishing of the first paper smearing Spider-Man, he finds the fake JJ already shot (later revealed to have been shot by Felicia, who had already fled the scene)

Just hours after JJ's death, Peter breaks into the city's morgue to discover the JJ who died was actually the Chameleon. Within these hours Felicia is also captured and brought to the Goblin's "torture house" where the real JJ has been kept

And again within these few hours, Peter saves Aunt May from the Vulture by killing him with Uncle Ben's gun, rushes over to the "torture house", and has his final scrap with Goblin and his men

And now to finally consider this two month time skip. We're given some context clues into what time this could be. It's no longer winter, so it has to be in Spring.

And then we're given real political events to draw on. President Franklin D. Roosevelt has been inaugurated into office at this point, so it has to be past March 4, 1933. Then we have the mention of "The Enabling Act" in the Daily Bugle's newspaper, which was passed on March 23, 1933.

So from all this little background detail we can deduct that Noir took place from late December 1932 through January 1933, with the time skip taking place in the late March of 1933.

Anyway yeah. That all happened. That fast. I will! Do a separate post on EWAOF (which takes place in September 1933, only 6 months later!!!), and the other runs beyond that even if I have personal beef with them. Later skaters

[hellishattempt]

𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 - the girl in new york

cr sybbatra on twitter, sourced from pin

🢥 summary : celebrity!au gojo satoru and rumours swirling around your established relationship, 3.1k words 🢥 series includes : choso, fushiguro toji, geto suguru, gojo satoru and nanami kento, part one of five 🢥 content : celebrity!au, gn reader, angst mostly, established relationship, cheating, paps being an ass, lying, use of baby/love/darling and other pet names, song cr goes to nessa barrett, not proofread lol kinda just wrote this instead of studying for exams. don't like the ending, but i never do. 

 . . . GOJO SATORU SEEN WITH ANOTHER WOMAN AT NYFW was not the headline you wanted to wake up to. it was a lazy saturday morning, and you didn't have any plans for the day. your boyfriend, the prominent gojo satoru, was currently in new york for fashion week. you had been dating for almost a year, having met a little over six years ago at club heaven in los angeles on his birthday by pure accident. the japanese born model had been dragged to america for his twenty first birthday, and spilled his drink on you. he hasn't left the states since. he's established himself in the modeling world, and fashion week was the busiest time of year for him. being a singer / songwriter yourself, you had quite the busy schedule. your bustling schedules were part of the reason it took so long for you and satoru to get together. there was mutual pining, but you both spent so much of your time in different cities and airports, that there seemed to be no point in it. but geto made a joke that if satoru didn't bag you, then he would, and that about did it for satoru. sure, dating hasn't been easy, but you've made it work. satoru had moved in with you in your luxury apartment in the hills of los angeles, though neither of you were there often. after all, you were both a lister celebrities. everyone knew your names, especially the paparazzi. 

neither of you were big fans of the paps, satoru especially. you tried to show grace, after all, they were just trying to do their jobs. but their jobs were to be nosy and wrongfully invade your privacy. there were always headlines about you and satoru, the rumours and scandals never seemed to end, but for some reason, this one hit home. your phone read 10:01 a.m. you were in your los angeles apartment, so you were three hours behind satoru. you didn't have any notifications from him, which was weird, because he usually made a point to send you a good morning text before you woke up, no matter what timezone you were in. even if it meant satoru had to set an alarm for two a.m. so that you would wake up with a "good morning, baby," then he would set an alarm. in fact, the only notification you had was a text from shoko, with a link to the article. "have you seen this??" her text read. you clicked the link and it opened a separate page for people magazine. it took all your strength not to roll your eyes. people was your number one enemy when it came to tabloids. they always fabricated such stupid things, so you didn't think much of it at first. still, you read the article word for word. 

"gojo satoru was seen today eating lunch with fellow model, iori utahime, at new york's own per se. gojo and iori have been friends for a while now, but are they more?" you scoffed, adjusting yourself in your large bed, continuing on. "gojo and irori are currently in new york for fashion week, and were photographed outside per se for a late lunch before tonight's opener. the photos were quickly posted, and the response was a mix of emotions. in the string of photos, we see gojo and iori sharing a laugh... while holding hands? in a few, his arm was tightly wrapped around iori's waist as he escorts her out of the restaurant. a few nights prior, photos had of gojo and iori sharing drinks at an elite club on eighth had been released, where they seemed more than friendly. that same night, the took shared a taxi, stumbling into the hotel together. social media shares our reply: has gojo's partner seen this and what do they have to say about it?" the article was short and sweet, but it did the trick. the photos had been attached, as well as a slew of twitter posts. #satohime was the third trending tag on twitter. tears stung your eyes as you white-kunckled your phone in your hand.

you were torn between believing and not believing the article. you knew satoru would never cheat on you, but the evidence was right in front of you. he was out with another woman, someone he's known longer than you, holding hands and wrapping himself close to her. you'd never met utahime, but satoru always returned from fashion week, brimming with stories about her that made him laugh until his stomach cramped. you knew they were close, despite only seeing each other twice a year, they'd grown up together. you tried to tell yourself that maybe it was just a rumour, photos taken out of context. after all, it wasn't anything drastic, like a vulgar makeout video, but it still made you sick. so you did the only thing you knew hot to when it come to your emotions: you wrote a song.

. . . NEW UPLOAD : THE GIRL IN NEW YORK flashed across gojo satoru's screen. it was a youtube notification for your channel. he frown slightly at the words, wondering what you were thinking about when writing this. he was at work right now, so he silenced his phone. satoru would listen to the song on the cab ride back to his hotel. he hadn't heart about the people's magazine yet, despite it being published six hours ago. satoru had been so busy with the fashion week presentations and rehearsals, that lunch with utahime had been the first time in a few days he'd left skylight clarkson. in fact, he'd been so busy, that he'd forgotten to charge his phone the night before. it was currently charging, thanks to utahime letting him borrow hers. satoru felt bad for failing to send you a text, but surely you'd understand if it was just one time. utahime wasn't a model like satoru, instead a manager for one of the labels. fashion week in februar and september were some of the only times they saw each other anymore. every february they swore they'd try to see each other more that year, but sepember would always be the second time they saw each other that year. their schedules just didn't allow for it. and even though satoru was a major pain in the ass to utahime, she prized his friendship. they made a point to spend as much time together during fashion week as possible, hence the drinks and lunch.

when the night had finally ended, satoru was exhasted and couldn't wait to return to his hotel bed. it wasn't as good as sleeping next to you, but he could fall asleep on a bag of dirt at this point. satoru stumbled into a taxi, giving the location of his hotel, and pulled his phone from his bag. it was charged now, and your youtube notification sat prettily on his lockscreen, which was a picture of you laughing with your head thrown back. satoru fumbled in the dark of the cab to find his headphones, finally pairing them to his phone and playing the song. "bags in your hand as you kiss me, tellin' me you're gonna miss me. promised me you'll be on you best behavior." your sultry voice entered his ears as the song started slow, a gentle piano and slow guitar riff. "gave me your flight information, call me when you land, say you made it. sweet little me told you, 'go have a good time.'" the song picked up the pace, transitioning into the pre-chorus and chorus. "i didn't mean forget about me, riding in a yellow taxi. who the hell are you on your way to?" satoru was almost too tired to notice the lyrics. almost. "you said i was yours, but maybe just on the west coast, cause as soon as you left home, you got wandering eyes.

"so i guess you lied when you called me special. you're not as smart as you think you are. who the hell is she, taking you from me?" as the song continued, he was more awake with every bar. "fuck you for making me crazy, while you buy her drinks out on eighth street." were you talking about utahime? wait, did you think he had done something? satoru was so confused, consumed by your obscure lyrics. the song ended too soon for his taste, none of his questions being answered by your final line. "baby, i know about the girl in new york..." your voice faded, his headphones going silent. having reached the hotel, satoru rushed to his room, immediately opening his laptop to do some digging. his phone had been silence all day, and when satoru opened his messages app to see if you had said anything, he was instaed hit with over three hundred texts from shoko and suguru. neither sounded happy with him, while satoru still had no idea what he did. before even acknowledging their texts, he went straight to your conversation. "darling, what's going on with your new song??" he typed out quickly, then added, "not that i don't love it! just kinda confused." he watched as delivered turned to read, which resulted in those damn three dots making two additional appearances before completely disappearing. satoru let out a groan of frustration, going to google and searching your names together. the first thing that popped up was an article from people magazine. "gojo satoru seen with another woman at nyfw." the headline read. fuck, how he hated the paparazzi.

satoru skimmed the article, not pleased with what he was reading. his confusion dissipated into annoyance, both towards you and the fucking paps. you always told him to be nicer towards the media, they were just trying to their job, but these fucking rumours were getting out of hand. how dare they make you think he would ever cheat on you? satoru didn't suffer a friendship with you for five years while being enamored with you every action for one damn article about him and utahime. all of those pictures had been taken out of context. the one where they were holding hands? utahime had tripped on a sewer grate and satoru had reached out so she didn't fall flat on her face. the one with his arm around her waist? they were both completely shitfaced and barely standing on their own. the ones about them at the club and the taxi? satoru can handle a drink or two, but uta gets hammered after two drinks, so of course he was going to take her back to her hotel and make sure she got up all right. that's what friends are for. but now, thanks to the media, he's got a lying article, pissed off friends and a song tearing him to pieces written by the love of his life, who may not ever want to see him again. great, just fucking great.

he dialed your number. you declined it before the first ring. he did this four more times, with you rejecting the call instantly. on the sixth call, there was no rings, and an automated voice responded, "i'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach is not in service or temporarily disconnected. please try again later. good bye." oh my god, you fucking blocked him. irritated with you, the media and with himself for making you feel so insecure, he scrolled to his group chat with shoko and suguru. neither of them were happy with gojo. he didn't bother to read all their messages, he got the gist of it. satoru hastily responded, "i didn't fucking cheat. the article's lying. one of you need to tell them that because i'm fucking blocked." he sent the message, standing in a silent fury. a moment later, satoru threw his phone at the wall with a yell. the device bounced off, falling onto the hotel bed. there was a small dent in the wall nothing extremely noticeable, and his phone was fine. "fuck," satoru breathed, sinking into one of the chairs in his room. he held his head in his hands, mind racing with what to do. an idea formed in his frustrated mind. it was stupid, but it was something. satoru grabbed his jacket and his phone from the bed, storming out of the hotel.

. . . THE SOUND OF SOMEONE POUNDING ON YOUR DOOR pulled you from delirium. groggily, you checked your phone. it was just past four am. who the hell would be at the door at four in the morning? you rolled over in bed, hoping whoever it was would go away. they didn't. they just kept beating at the wood. with a groan, you rose from the mattress. a headache slammed into you as you stood, and you had to sit back down to steady yourself. the last eighteen hours hadn't exactly been fun. after you uploaded "the girl in new york", you had turned your notifications for everything off. although, every five minutes you checked if satoru had texted you. when he finally did, you didn't know how to respond, the images from the article flashing across your mind and filling you with sickness and sadness. you had been out all day, drinking and trying to forget. after getting kicked out of two bars, you went home, where you drank more. throughout the night you emptied the contents of your stomach and eyes, vomiting and crying more than what felt humanely possible. it felt like you had barely lied down when the knocking began.

when you had mustered the strength to stagger your way to the door, you wished you had stayed in bed. a red eyed, messy haired, heaving gojo satoru stood at your door. neither of you spoke. what was there to say? he had cheated on you. you had retaliated with an exposing song. or maybe he hadn't cheated on you, and you simply misunderstood. either way, what had happened, happened. as far as you were concerned, he was here to beg for your forgiveness. you began to shut the door, but he stopped you. with a sigh, you let him in. it was his apartment, too, after all. you wobbled to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and pouring yourself a glass of water. satoru watched you in silence. "well?" you croaked out. "come to apologize? gloat?"

"baby..." he whispered, stretching his arms out to you, but retracting when you took a step back. satoru took a breath, steadying himself. "i didn't cheat," he stated plainly. "i know you think i did. but i didn't. uta is just a friend. i've never thought of her that way, and i'm never going to think of her like that. i'm not dating her, i'm dating you." his words sounded slightly reheards. he must've been practicing on his flight here. it dawned on you that it was four in the morning in los angeles, and seven a.m. in new york. satoru was missing fashion week, here, trying to fix things. a flight from nyc to la was just over six hours, so he would've had to get on a plane by one am est. he had texted you just after eight fifty p.m. pst, so eleven fifty new york time. which means almost as soon as he heard your song, he was on his way to the airport to fly to you. "please baby, you gotta believe me. those paps fucked everything up, the photos-"

"are they fake?" you cut him off. "the photos. are the fake? photoshopped or otherwise edited?"

gojo slightly squirmed, "well, no, they're not edited, but they were taken out of context." he rushed out the last part of his sentence. "please, love, just hear me out."

he looked like a disaster. satoru's normally bright irises were dim, the usual joy gone. he looked sleepless, violent violet bags forming like bruises under his red-rimmed eyes. his fluffy white hair was flat against his forehead, matted and lifeless. he was still in his work clothes, with his favorite blue jacket hanging open on his shoulders. satoru looked like he hadn't ate or slept in the last eighteen hours. maybe it was how pitiful he looked maybe it was how much you still loved him. but you nodded your head, allowing for satoru to explain. his sigh was audible, and some color returned to his eyes.

"okay, first, i love you so fucking much. i've loved you since that first night we met into the bar six years ago. if you don't forgive me tonight, or ever, i'm still going to spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the hurt that i've cause you from that stupid article. i didn't cheat on you, not with utahime or with anyone else. i spent five years trying to work up the nerve to ask you out, i'm not going to let you go easily." satoru meant every word he said, his tone convinced you of that. "second," he continued, "is that the paparazzi are always pulling things out of their asses, we know this. the first photo they talked about, the one with me and utahime at per se, where we were holding hands? her heel had got caught on a sewer grate, and uta tripped. i grabbed her hand to prevent her falling on her face, which honestly, would've been funnier." you chuckled lightly, and a smile formed on satoru's lips. from his perspective, this was going much better than he had anticipated. "the next photo with my arm around her waist, utahime was so drunk, she could barely stand. i was pretty drunk, too. we were the only ones keeping each other up. same with the pictures of us outside the club on eighth. i wasn't as drunk in that one, but she was pretty hammered. i didn't feel comfortable just sending uta off in a cab back to her hotel. something easily could've happened to her, so i went back with utahime to her hotel. nothing happened between me and her," satoru finished. quiet settled over you two again as you contemplated his words.

everything he said made sense. you wanted to believe him so badly, but you weren't there yourself. "okay," you said slowly, after what felt like an eternity to satoru.

"okay? wh-what does that mean? does... does that mean you believe me?"

you took a deep breath. "i believe you."

those three words were all he needed to hear. satoru rushed over to you, his body engulfing you in a crushing embrace. "oh, thank god," he breathed into your hair. when he pulled back, his blue eyes were shining once again. satoru almost kissed you, forgetting his exhaustion, but your hangover still gripped at you. you winced at his strength, your arms hanging limply at your side. satoru whispered out an apology, guiding you back to bed. before you both finally found the sleep you desperately needed, you mumbled, "i'm sorry about the song."

satoru laughed quietly, resting his head in the crook of your neck. "don't be, i think it's your best one yet."

[bnnuyko]

RPD - Main Hall

Screenshots in-game of the smaller details that authors may be interested in — ♡

TW; blood

Feel free to request any other details you wish to see — ♡

main hall;

The Daily Raccoon RACCOON CITY, 1998 MISSING MAN FOUND DEAD IN RACCOON CITY Body discovered after five days of searching.

'Family looks for missing teen'

RACCOON TIMES June 22, 1998 Horror in Raccoon City ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ More Victims Dead ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌ The bodies of a young couple were found early Sunday morning in Victory Park, making Deanne Rusch and Christopher Smith the eighth and ninth victims in the reign of violence that has terrorized the city since mid-May of this year. Both victims, aged 19, were reported as missing by concerned parents late Saturday night and were discovered by police officers on the west bank of Victory Lake at approximately 2 A.M. Although no formal statement has been issued by the police department, witnesses to the discovery confirm that both youths suffered wounds similar to those found on prior victims. Whether or not the attackers were human or animal has yet to be announced. According to friends of the young couple, the two had talked about tracking down the rumored "wild dogs" recently spotted in the heavily forested park and had planned to violate the city-wide curfew in order to see one of the alleged nocturnal creatures. Mayor Harris has scheduled a press conference for this afternoon, and is expected to make an announcement regarding the current crisis, calling for a stricter enforcement of the curfew.

CITYSIDE Raccoon City's #1 Newspaper June 21, 1998 "S.T.A.R.S" SPECIAL TACTICS AND RESCUE SQUAD SENT TO SAVE RACCOON CITY With the reported disappearance of three hikers in Raccoon Forest earlier this week, city officials have finally called for a roadblock on rural Route 6 at the foothills of the Arklay Mountains. Police Chief Brian Irons announced yesterday that the S.T.A.R.S. will participate full-time in the search for the hikers and will also be working closely with the RPD until there is an end to the rash of murders and disappearances that are destroying our community Chief Irons, a former S.T.A.R.S. member himself, said today (in an exclusive Cityside telephone interview) that it is "high time to employ the talents of these dedicated men and women toward the safety of this city. We've had nine brutal murders here in less than two months, and at least five disappearances now-and all of these events have taken place in a close proximity to Raccoon Forest. This leads us to believe that the perpetrators of these crimes may be hiding somewhere in the Victory Lake district, and the S.T.A.R.S have just the kind of experience we need to find them." When asked why the S.T.A.R.S hadn't been assigned to these cases until now, Chief Irons would only say that the S.T.A.R.S. have been assisting the RPD since the beginning and that they would be a "welcoming addition" to the task force currently working on the murders full-time. Founded in New York in 1967, the privately funded S.T.A.R.S. organization was originally created as a measure against cult-affiliated terrorism by a group of retired military officials and ex-field operatives from both the CIA and FBI. Under the guidance of former NSDA (National Security and Defense Agency) director Marco Palmieri, the group quickly expanded its services to include everything from hostage negotiation and code breaking to riot control. Working with local police agencies, each branch office of the S.T.A.R.S. is designed to work as a complete unit itself. The S.T.A.R.S. set up its Raccoon City branch through the fund-raising efforts of several local businesses in 1972 and is currently led by Captain Albert Wesker, promoted to the position less than six months ago.

Alberto Paque Ramirez David Cockman Katie Chevalier Manuel Trillo Carmona Stefano Ivan Stinga

In loving memory of those who served with the valor of lions, the nobility of unicorns, and whose ultimate sacrifice is as pure as the maidens of old.

Laura Salomon Ugo Ricard Janet Hsu Luca Baldassarre Francis Ishii

[fr3sh-tragedies]

First Defense

[Five Nights at Freddy's] Vanessa Shelly x Female Reader

Summary: Upon seeing you get hurt, even though you've never officially met, Vanessa gets protective.

Word Count: 3.33k Content Warnings: Language, violence, mentions of substance abuse Category: Angst + Heavy Fluff || Oneshot

[A/N]: Sorry if the pacing seems really fast. I wrote this really quick before my meds knocked me out for the night. Might seem kinda odd at the end, considering I didn't proofread any of this.

Enjoy!

The sound of a loud ring echoed throughout the bustling atmosphere of the room, signaling that someone’s order had been finished. “Order for Vanessa S.?” As the words flew through the air, a tall blonde stood from her seat at the table closest to the door. She sauntered over to the counter and plucked her drink from the top of it, quickly thanking the barista before she backtracked to her seat.

As she took her spot at the table again and sipped lazily at her freshly-brewed coffee, her eyes repeatedly found themselves wandering toward the entrance, expectantly waiting for the familiar sight of someone she had kept her eye on for a while. You had been a regular at the cafe for years, though she didn’t realize it until a month or two prior to the time she was living in at that moment as she waited for you. You had no idea who she was, but she certainly knew who you were. It wasn’t her intention to learn everything she could about you the moment she laid eyes on you, but she wouldn’t deny that each new fact thrown her way by the staff you had grown close to gave her another spark of interest in who you truly were.

Within the short few months after she had first seen you, she too became a regular at the cafe, only with the intent to hopefully gather the courage to finally talk to you properly one day. She had your schedule memorized almost immediately. Monday through Thursday, you came in relatively early, clearly getting a boost of energy for the morning shift of wherever you worked. Fridays, you would wait to come in until after lunch, though long before dinner.

Finally, on weekends, you’d come in during the afternoon. It seemed you got the weekends off, so you often came to the cafe to chat away with the baristas and waiters who were visibly very fond of you. She could understand, however, why they seemed to lighten up at the mere mention of your name. Your presence alone, even when you were across the room from her, was calming and infectious.

She’d chuckle with you, not even knowing what joke you had cracked.

She’d frown when you’d grimace at the mention of something she couldn’t hear.

She’d grow upset the moment you showed any sign of discomfort or anger.

Already, even though the two of you had never fully met, she adored you. In her mind, she couldn’t picture anyone who would want to dim the only light in the cramped room of the crumbling cafe. Her brain had battled for days on how to finally greet you face-to-face without coming across as creepy. She couldn’t introduce herself as someone who’d been memorizing your schedule in regards to the small coffee shop, and she knew that. It would sound like she was stalking you, and that was the last thing she wanted. Yes, she knew it was a bit odd that she only came to the cafe in hopes of seeing you, but it was all she had until she could build up her courage.

You’d be there any moment, and she continued to watch the door at the front, practically like a hawk as her eyes would only flicker away from it to find her cup on the table again for a quick sip.

Soon, you came in, much to her relief. She had been prepping what to say in advance since she woke up that morning. She just hoped she could get it across the way she wanted. She watched as you shared a few jokes almost instantly with the few waiters you passed by as you made your way to the counter. Again, the sight of your smile had her own lips perking up into a grin. Her eyes trailed after you, then remained on you once you stood at the counter to place your order.

Although she knew which times you’d come in each day, she had no idea what you usually ordered. Even on the rare days where you’d sit relatively close to her, she couldn’t make out what the label on your cup said. It wasn’t important, she knew, but it was another part of you that seemed to interest her.

You chatted away gleefully with the cashier and barista. Only a few moments prior, they had been grumbling and feigning looks of what most people would call joy. The moment you made it there and struck up a conversation, however, their moods shifted drastically. They beamed brightly in your direction and laughed at whatever new pun you had given them.

Vanessa wished she was close enough to hear your words, but seeing you chuckle at your own joke had her snickering softly to herself. You seemed like such a kind soul, and she wanted to meet you so badly.

She managed to tear her eyes away briefly when the bell above the door rang. A tall, heavy, middle-aged man walked through and made his way to the spot behind you in line, a scowl forming once he spotted you there. He cleared his throat a while after Vanessa had assumed you finished your order – considering you had gotten your receipt – and you turned to him. You waved your hands in front of you and gave an apologetic look as you stepped out of the way, mumbling a soft “sorry” that she could only make out by glancing at your lips.

He rolled his eyes at you and continued to glare momentarily as he shuffled forward and pulled out his wallet. As he placed his own order, it was clear the cashier and barista were uncomfortable once again. They glanced over at you and watched as you moved to lean against the wall right by the counter. You weren’t in the way, but you were still able to talk with them as they worked on the two new orders.

Once the man was handed his receipt, he turned and stared at you with a growing grimace. You seemed to pay no mind to him, too caught up in your conversation with the barista behind the counter. When she and the cashier headed back to do their respective jobs as new customers filed in, the stranger trudged your way and seemed to bristle when you finally acknowledged him.

Vanessa, at first, couldn’t hear what he began to rant about at you, though she could see the increasing fear and discomfort growing more evident on your face. Fairly shortly, however, she was able to make out more and more of his words as he began to holler at you. “You need to get out of the way! You’re blocking the path and being inconsiderate about the other people around, you disrespectful brat!” Everyone’s heads seemed to turn toward him, confused at the sudden loud volume.

Vanessa’s eyes trained themselves on him carefully, nails digging into her palms as she readied herself to step in. “Sir,” you chirped back shakily, “I’m not in the way, I’m just leaning against the wall. There’s plenty of room.” This only seemed to infuriate him more. “You are in the way! Are you calling me a fucking liar? You shouldn’t be in here! I should drag your ass out of here myself, you bitch,” he growled as he stepped closer to you. His frame practically towered above your own as he glared down at you, doing his best to intimidate you.

As he continued to screech insult after insult at you, the barista and cashier started to come around from behind the counter to intervene. Vanessa knew they wouldn’t be able to physically do anything, which is why she leaned her head to the side and sent out a request for security on her radio, all while keeping her focus on you.

She could tell something wasn’t right. It was clear you had no idea who he was, but you hadn’t done anything wrong regardless. From what she had seen in the past, it seemed like he was under the influence of something, and it only sparked her nerves more when he physically shoved you back against the wall, then moved back to roll up his sleeves.

Once more, Vanessa sent in another request for backup, her words more urgent. Her eyes flitted down for only a second to push her drink aside, then finally narrowed in back on you.

That’s when she witnessed the way the back of his hand struck itself harshly against your jaw, the sickening sound of what sounded like a crack echoing through the room as you were sent spiraling toward the floor. The room fell silent, and the staff made their way closer. As she saw you hit the ground, fury and an unfamiliar need to protect you flooded Vanessa’s body instantly, pumping every vein full of adrenaline and forcing her to act purely on instinct.

With a movement so quick it almost sent her chair to the ground, she stood from her spot at the table and stormed over to him before the staff members could, clutching his shoulder and whipping him around to meet her eye. He hardly had a chance to register her there before she took hold of his collar with a white-knuckled grip. Almost too easily, she hoisted him backward and pinned him to the wall, the back of his head slamming against the sheetrock and momentarily disorienting him.

She stepped closer to him, ignoring the fact he nearly towered over her. Her face now merely inches from his own, she scowled up at him, her words dripping with venom laced in each syllable.

"Lay your hands on her again, and I'll rip your fucking throat out, you hear me?"

He sputtered for a moment, still regaining his bearings. When he made out her figure and spotted her uniform and badge, he bristled and launched forward, shoving her off of him. Immediately, he booked his way toward the door, though the security that Vanessa had called in as backup blocked off his path. As he attempted to shove past them, he was tackled to the floor and pinned there as the lead officer cuffed him.

Once she was sure the situation was handled, Vanessa kneeled down beside you and took your hand, helping you sit up. She was quick to check over the skin she could see for any bruising or cuts. “Are you alright?” She finally asked, wishing so badly that they didn’t have to be the first words she ever presented to you. Still in shock, you only gave a nod as a response for a moment. Your eyes found hers, then glanced over at the scene by the door, then fell back to her own. “What the hell just happened?” A sigh slipped past her lips before she helped you stand.

“The guy being wrestled over there just hit you. Really hard, too. Does anything hurt? Like, more than it should after a hit like that?” Almost as if you couldn’t grasp the situation properly, your hand lifted to your face. You winced when the tips of your fingers grazed over your skin, sending a jolt of alarm through Vanessa. “Shit, you okay?” You nodded finally and cradled your cheek in your hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. It just really stings.”

She huffed out a sigh again and nodded before turning her attention back to the officers at the entrance, who barely managed to handcuff the stranger and began to try to drag him out the door. With a quick motion to run her hand down her face, Vanessa gently took hold of your free arm and tugged you along to the rear exit. She kept you at the side of the building until the man was driven away to the police station, then she led you to the front of the cafe.

“Do you want to press charges? I’ve got to get a statement from you either way.” You grew nervous at this, which only gave her a worse feeling. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “What if he finds out and comes after me again?”

She frowned at your words, both hands coming to clasp one of yours in between. Softly, her hands gave you a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t need to worry about that. I’ll be with you there every step of the way. I promise he won’t hurt you, okay?”

Still, you seemed to hesitate. She tilted her head after a moment, noticing the way your eyes glossed over as you stared into the distance. Just as she parted her lips to speak again, you nodded and gave an answer. “Okay, yeah, I want to press charges.”

Her lips cracked into a smile at your words. “Okay, then let’s get you down to the precinct. I’ll give you a ride.”

Nearly a full year after the stranger had struck you in the cafe, the charges were finally filed, and the assailant had been thrown behind bars for multiple reasons that were finally brought to light during the case. Keeping true to her word, Vanessa stood by your side throughout the entire process, offering support when the man’s legal team grew aggressive with their defense.

To the surprise of no one, Vanessa discovered almost immediately that the man had been heavily under the influence of both alcohol and overuse of prescription drugs. It was a wonder to the entire team as to how he even made it to the cafe without causing a wreck or getting into a fight on the way.

Both accounts of substance abuse were added to his charges, as well as multiple felonies he had already committed prior to his arrest. He had evaded the police for over two years, which is why they were so pleased to finally see him thrown into a cell. Even after the case was solved, Vanessa still made sure to make frequent stops at your house to check in and make sure you were still okay.

She’d swing by in between shifts and sit down for an hour or so, listening to you talk about whatever you were worried about, then she’d offer any advice or support she had in return. Some days, when you felt more at ease, the two of you would talk about the people you had made friends with at the cafe, and she was relieved to know they were also there as your own support system.

Soon enough, she’d visit just to spend time together, grateful that you seemed comfortable with her by then. After months, she offered to take you out for coffee or tea, though she ensured that she would bring you somewhere completely different from where the assault had taken place.

You accepted, thankfully. After her last shift of the week, she picked you up in her personal car instead of the cop car you had sat in a year before to give your statement. It was a short drive to the new cafe. Once parked, she got out before you and strode to the opposite side to open your door, taking your hand and helping you step out. She locked the door as she led you inside of the small shop.

The two of you sat down in a corner booth after ordering. When Vanessa’s name was called, she had you wait in your seat as she got both hers and your drink from the counter. She managed to strike up a conversation as you both sipped away at your separate cups.

“So, I have a couple of things I have to confess,” she started. Curiously, you perked your head up further at her, prompting her to give a small smile. “For starters, I was only in the coffee shop that day because I was actually planning to finally talk to you. It might sound weird, but I had been going there for a few weeks and watching you. I promise I didn’t mean anything weird by it, I just couldn’t bring myself to actually talk to you properly for a while. I wanted to watch how you were with other people to see how I should approach you.

“Then, just when I finally got the courage to greet you, that guy walked in, and… well, you know what happened, obviously. And as odd as it sounds, I’m actually glad you agreed to press charges. Mainly because that asshole deserved it, but also because I got to know you better. Not necessarily at the beginning, since I know that would be really gross to focus on, but after he was thrown in jail and you said it was okay to stop by for visits. I really liked getting to know you.”

Shakily, her hand reached over and rested on top of yours. “And I really hope I can continue to get to know you. I, uh, wanted to ask something, but I want you to know I completely understand if you’re too weirded out by me asking.”

You had started smiling at some point during her small speech, and when you nodded for her to continue, she felt slightly more at ease.

“I know it was a really weird way that we met, but I really have liked you for a long time now. I guess the reason I’m worried about asking this is because it seems like this has been my whole intention the entire time I was helping you press charges, and that’s a disgusting thing that a lot of people unfortunately do. I don’t want it to come across like that at all, so let me know if it does, okay?”

Again, you only gave a nod, though your grin never faltered.

She sucked in a quick breath and nodded as well.

“I just wanted to know… Well, I’m sure you already know what I’m going to ask. Will you go out with me? When you’re ready, of course. I know you’re still kind of iffy about things after what happened. I’ll take you somewhere else, if you are ready, since a coffee shop is kind of an ironic place for a first date. I mean, not that we’d go out immediately since I said when you’re ready, but if you are ready, then I can –”

She froze when you laughed. Your free hand moved over to pat her own lightly. Her gaze flickered down at your hand before meeting your eye again.

“‘Nessa, you’ve gotta breathe. My answer is yes. I don’t think it’s too early to ask, alright? None of what you’ve said comes across as creepy to me, and I’d absolutely love for our first date to be anywhere at all. Even a coffee shop. It helps me remember that one bad event somewhere doesn’t mean it’ll happen at every place that’s the same. I trust you.”

Her smile finally returned, a soft chuckle leaving her lips as she nodded. “Sorry, I've just been really worried this would go wrong because of me.” She rubbed the back of her neck for a moment before she let both hands take hold of yours to squeeze them. “I’m glad you said yes, though, even if I sounded scatterbrained when I asked.”

“Eh, you did, but it’s just part of your charm.”

“Yeah, the charm that only you see. I don’t tend to get this way with other people.”

“Oh? Guess that makes me lucky then.”

She laughed again. With ease, she brought one of your hands up to her lips, pressing a featherlike kiss to your knuckles. When she lowered your hand to rest on the table again, her thumb gently grazed over the back of it.

“Yeah, guess it does.”

You tilted your head and thought for a moment, your smirk growing. With a glance down, you let one hand slip out to squeeze hers instead.

“And you promise to protect me the way you did back then?”

Her smile widened.

“Absolutely, I’ll kick anyone’s ass if they try to hurt you.”

[hippiegoth97]

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story: Pt. 32

Collage by me :)

Master List

Part 31

Tag List: @keikoraven @ar-jupiter @alcielo1438 @cairro-xx @stolen-in-moonlight

@micheledawn1975 @janiejenn @rafeyscurtainbangs @melodymunson @spacedoutdaydreamer

@veemoon @sariahs-stuff @feral-pumpkin-energy @comeonatmebruh @munsoneightysixx

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Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: swearing, smoking, light smut/teasing, fluff, small argument/angst, light crying

Word Count: 7k

divider by @strangergraphics

Part 32: Happy Together

Monday, August 28th, 1989

"You got everything you need, Dusty?" You ask as Dustin loads up the last box of his belongings into the back of the car. You and Mom have been helping him get ready for the start of classes at Caltech all last night and this morning. It's exactly eight days until he begins freshman year of college, so Mom decided to make it a fun little road trip for the two of them. They'll stop at various tourist attractions on the way, and get Dustin set up in his dorm room once they reach California. Jonathan and Will volunteered to help out when they arrive, leaving you to fend for yourself for a little while.

That's not to say that you aren't extraordinarily busy as well. You've got a full work schedule, and any spare hours you possess this week will be dedicated to you searching for an apartment with Eddie. You also have to go to Hawkins Community College to get your class schedule figured out. Luckily, you've taken a couple extra credits every year prior to this one, so you won't have as much of a workload this time around. You'd probably fall to pieces if you did, with everything else going on in your life.

"Yeah, I'm all set." Dustin replies, closing the trunk with a wide smile on his face. He's so excited to start this new path in life, and being closer to Will and his family will make the adjustment a little easier.

"I'm gonna miss you, big guy." Eddie says, stepping forward to give Dustin a hug. He leans in, squeezing Eddie tightly in his arms. A couple of tears escape his eyes. Eddie's like a brother to him, he's gonna miss him so much. And Eddie surely feels the same, you notice the tell-tale shudder of his chest as you stand behind them.

"I'm gonna miss you, too, Eddie." Dustin sniffles, letting Eddie go a moment later. They both wipe their eyes, sharing a bittersweet smile.

"You're gonna kick ass out there, man." Eddie comments, earning a nod from Dustin.

"C'mere, Dusty." You beckon him over, fighting off some tears of your own. You wrap your arms around his middle, and give him a good squishy hug. "I'm so proud of you, kid. Caltech is lucky to have you." You gush, a few runaway salty drops spilling down your cheeks.

"Thanks, Y/N. You're the best sister ever. It's gonna be hard not having you on my case all the time." He chuckles, making you laugh as well.

"Cheeky little shit." You comment, still laughing lightly.

"I learned from the best." He retorts.

"Damn straight!" You finally let him go, and Mom's standing just beside you, waiting for her own hug.

"Alright, we'd better get going. Dustin has to drive the whole way there, my license is still suspended for another few days." Mom says.

"You prepaid the fee, right?" You ask, hoping she won't be stopped by the cops on the way home and get herself into more trouble.

"Yes, Y/N. I did." She snarks.

"Jeez, relax. I just want you to get home safe." You scoff at her attitude.

"You become a little more like me every day, sugarpuff." She chortles, her eyes beaming with pride. You're sure most of that is because of Dustin's academic path.

"Shit, don't say that!" You groan, scrunching your face at the suggestion that you're turning into your mother.

"Okay, that's enough now. We have to go. Give your mommy a hug, please." She opens her arms, expecting you to insert yourself into them right this instant. "You too, loverboy." She waves Eddie over as well. You both roll your eyes, and do as she asks. Much as you'd like to play it cool, you're going to miss her while she's gone, too. "Take care of yourselves, and be careful. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"We will, Mom. Drive safe, and call us when you make it to a hotel for the night." You reply, and she gently pulls away so she and Dustin can set off on their journey. They get into the car, and Eddie stands behind you, holding you close with his arms around your waist.

"Bye, kiddos!" Mom calls from the rolled-down window.

"Bye, Mom!" You wave at them as they pull out of the drive, watching the family car roll away down the street.

"Well, looks like we're all alone in the house again, sweetheart." Eddie says softly, lowering his head to kiss your neck.

"Cool your jets, darling. I'm still feeling the pain from three days ago." You reply through a giggle, his light stubble tickling your skin.

"I know, I know. So am I...but you're just too hard to resist sometimes." He purrs, his breath fanning hotly against you. "We don't have to actually have sex, you know. We could make out, or give each other head. No fingers or cocks, silicone or otherwise, going in anywhere." He suggests, his tone making the offer sound unbearably tempting.

"Maybe later, baby. We've got a lot of apartments to look at today. And I'd like to have one picked out before Mom comes back home." You turn him down, focusing on getting yourself and your stuff out of this house. You never thought Dustin would be the first to leave, and you're certainly not letting him have much of a lead on top of that.

"Ugh, fine." He whines, putting the horniness on hold for the time being. It's been three whole days since you've done anything sexual, and it's driving him crazy. You're both still quite sore, sure, but he'd put himself through hell to see that gorgeous face you make when you cum again.

You turn yourself around to face him, still in his comforting hold. You give him a meaningful look, meeting his eyes. You reach up to cup his cheek, stroking him with your thumb. He nuzzles against you, humming at your soft touch. "Baby, I know you're feeling frustrated. So am I, believe me. But we have to recover a little bit first. We went insane the other night, and it was amazing. Just give it a couple more days, and I'm sure we'll be fucking like bunnies in no time." You give him a warm smile, and he begrudgingly nods.

"I know, you're right. If I'm honest, it still kinda hurts to get hard. These last couple mornings have been...unpleasant." He winces at the memory of his sore morning wood waking him up far too early for his liking. It's also taken him longer to get it to go down. He's lucky he doesn't have to see a damn doctor after what you've put each other through.

"Trust me, I could hear your helpless whining every time, Eds. I almost feel bad." You smirk, putting your arms around his neck.

"Only 'almost', huh?" He asks lowly.

"Yep. Takes two to tango, love. And boy, you sure do love to dance." You quip.

"Cheeky little shit." Eddie chuckles, scooping you up into his arms to carry you inside. He's tired of being out here. It's barely past sunrise, with mosquitoes making a meal out of him as they buzz around the humid air.

"Damn straight!" You laugh, holding on tight to him while he brings you both through the front door of the house. He sets you down, and you take him by the hand to go lay down in bed again. Mom insisted on leaving at the crack of fucking dawn to get a good head start on the long drive, and you can see in Eddie's eyes that he's not enjoying being out of bed at the moment.

You find Arwen curled up on your pillow, snoozing quietly. It appears she's not one for early mornings, either. "Aw, look at our sleepy girl." Eddie coos as the two of you stand over the bed to gaze down lovingly at the cat. She's getting so big, almost full grown now. Her pitch black coat has become so beautiful and shiny, with a long slender tail that wraps almost a full circle around her body. She's perfect, in looks and in temperament. And she's yours, your sweet, loving cat.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" You reply.

"Just like her mother." He says quietly, leaning in to gently kiss your neck again, though much more chaste this time.

"I'd hate to wake her. Maybe we should sleep on the couch." You suggest. Arwen is notorious for getting rather bratty when you wake her up before she's ready.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart. I just need a couple hours, especially if we're going out later." Eddie shrugs, willing to do whatever you say. He just wants to sleep, and be close to you. Nothing else matters at the moment.

"C'mon then, sleepyhead." You giggle softly, dragging him along with you back to the living room as quietly as you can. You lay him down on the sofa, and grab a blanket from the basket next to the armchair to put over the both of you. He spreads his legs apart for you to take the spot between them, and his arms lay across your middle once you slip into position. You pull up the blanket, and wriggle around a little to get comfy.

"Y/N, please stop fidgeting." Eddie says, his voice somewhat pained. All your jostling around is waking up a certain something inside his pajamas.

"Sorry." You answer apologetically, stilling your movements now. You can feel him poking into your back, and a few muted whines escape his lips.

"It's alright. Not your fault." He hisses the words out, focusing on making his erection go down. He finds this attempt much easier than the last few times, which he's extremely thankful for. "All good now." He lets out a relieved sigh, and his arms give you a light squeeze to hold you closer to him.

"Good. Get some rest, baby. We've got a big day ahead of us." You close your eyes, settling into the comforting warmth that radiates from Eddie and into you.

"Don't remind me, angel." He grumbles. If he were more rested, he'd be positively ecstatic about the prospect of looking at apartments today. He'll surely be bouncing off the walls when you wake up in a couple hours.

"So, this unit is two-bed, one-bath. It comes with a dishwasher in the kitchen, and a small balcony patio. The total space is eight-hundred square feet. We allow cats, but that requires an additional fee on top of a security deposit..." Pam, the landlady showing you around one of the less shabby apartment buildings, drones on about the amenities and fees that come with the apartment you're looking at. You've already been shown a couple of her smaller units, a studio and a one-bedroom. But those weren't quite to your taste. You still have a couple other buildings to visit, but this apartment is very appealing. You're not exactly paying a whole lot of attention to what Pam is saying, all you can focus on is the potential future you imagine having with Eddie here.

You see the two of you cuddling on the couch in your pajamas while watching a movie, playfully tossing popcorn into each other's mouths. A mess of empty beer cans is spread across the coffee table, as well as an ashtray overflowing with cigarettes and spent joints. You're both laughing so loud as you fail to land a single piece of popcorn into either of your mouths. They instead end up in your shirt, getting caught between your boobs, or cling to Eddie's hair. Arwen takes up the task of cleaning up any pieces that fall on the floor, while also batting some around with her paws.

You see yourselves cooking a meal together in the kitchen, you stirring the pot on the stove, while Eddie comes up behind you to put his hands on your waist. He presses feverish kisses to your neck, and tells you what a perfect little kitchen assistant you are. His words make your heart melt, and his hands wander upwards to caress your sides. You sigh at his touch, but your eyes remain focused on the stove. Keep stirring, sweetheart, he says lowly in your ear, while one hand gropes your chest, and the other lowers to slip inside your pants. It doesn't take long for you to clumsily shut off the stove and ignore dinner for the sake of having your way with Eddie on the kitchen floor.

You see the two of you decorating your Christmas tree, hanging shiny baubles and ornaments on the plastic branches, stringing strands of colorful lights and sparkly tinsel all around it. You're wearing matching sweaters, and singing along to all your holiday favorites that play the radio. Mugs of hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream rest in your hands, and you try your best not to spill as you continue to decorate. Eddie lifts you up to put the star on top, holding your waist firmly in his grip. You place the final touch on the very tippy top of the tree, before he sets you back down so he can plug everything in. The lights come on, and the decorations twinkle in that unmistakably cozy way that screams Christmas spirit. Eddie wraps his arms around you, and you both spend a good while admiring your handiwork in content silence, while Bing Crosby sings about treetops glistening and sleigh bells in the snow.

"What do you think, angel?" Eddie asks, yanking you out of your daydreaming. The snapshots fade away into the recesses of your imagination, where they'll wait patiently to become a reality. Pam stands off to the side, waiting to hear your opinion of the place. You look at Eddie, and he smiles when he sees the overwhelmingly happy expression on your face. He's been picturing little made up memories too, though he'd never tell you for fear of sounding cheesy. But, at the end of the day, this apartment feels like the place where you're meant to be. From the second you walked through the door, it felt right. There's no question, this is your home. Our home, you both think to yourselves. "Yeah, I think so too." He grins, pulling you into him by your hips. You put your hands on his shoulders in response, knowing exactly what to say next.

"We'll take it." You say while gazing at Eddie with love-drunk eyes.

"Oh, okay! Just let me get the paperwork from my office, and then we'll get started." Pam says, leaving you alone as she walks down the hall to the steps.

"Well, that was easy." Eddie chuckles.

"I know we had other places to look at, but I just can't get it out of my head. This place feels like home." You giggle, shrugging at the odd swirl of emotions inside your head. It's a mix of joy, nostalgia, and love. It's almost making you dizzy, but in the best possible way. You have the intense urge to jump up and down, and shriek in excitement, among other things. This is really happening. You get to have the one thing you've been waiting on for so long. And you get to share it with Eddie, the love of your life.

"I know, sweetheart. I felt it, too. We're gonna make this place ours, and it's gonna be great." He leans in to kiss you, and you don't hesitate to meet him in the middle. His hands lower to grab your ass, making you moan quietly against his mouth. You lead him backwards, and he grunts at his back meeting with the wall. The kiss quickly heats up, and Pam comes in a couple minutes later to find you heavily making out. She clears her throat, and you frantically separate.

"Sorry." You say breathlessly, your face turning bright red in embarrassment.

"It's alright. We get lots of young couples here. But I've got the papers for you to fill out, and I'll need a check for the security deposit as well." Pam says with an understanding smile.

"Sure thing. I'll fish out my checkbook." You reply, opening up your purse to locate it. You fully intended to pick a place today, your freedom can't come soon enough.

"Great! Did you have any questions for me?" The woman asks, leading you into the kitchen to use the counter as a writing surface.

"Uh, none that I can think of. Eddie?" You answer, giving him a chance to speak his mind.

"Nah, all good. I'm just happy to move out of my uncle's trailer." Eddie replies, waiting for his turn to sign the lease. It'll be the first official document he's ever signed, except perhaps any forms he's been given during his various arrests. But those weren't important, not to him. All he's been guilty of is petty crime anyways. This is the thing that matters, starting a life with you.

"Well, looks like you're all set. Here are the keys, and the place is yours. Have fun moving in!" Pam says once the papers are all signed and you've handed over the check.

"Thanks, Pam. We're very excited." You reply, taking the keys from her hand. You look down at them as they sit in your palm. Our keys, you think giddily. Pam leaves you both alone again, closing the door to the apartment behind her this time.

"So, what do we do now?" Eddie asks, drawing your eyes to him again.

"We go to the house, and the trailer, pack up our shit, and bring it over here." You answer, becoming more ecstatic by the second.

"Right now? We don't even have any furniture, Y/N." He laughs, you're getting a little ahead of yourself.

"I know that, Eddie." You retort, rolling your eyes. You know you're a little overexcited, but you can't help it. You're holding the damn keys in your hand now, and you don't want to wait any longer. "It'll take some time, and scrounging around thrift stores to find the things we need. But we can do it. Together."

"And I'm guessing that means we're going shopping?" He asks with a sigh. Once you put your mind to something, there's truly no stopping you. He'd be crazy to even try.

"Yep!" You chirp, practically bursting at the seams to get a move on. You quickly grab his hand, running for the door. "C'mon!"

"Jesus, keep your pants on!" Eddie exclaims as you pull him out into the hall in a hurry. You don't even bother to lock the door, you're far too determined to find everything you need to move in with Eddie as soon as possible. You run down the hallway, and almost trip down the stairs. You don't slow down until you reach the van, and Eddie stops you for a moment. "Y/N, slow down a sec." He pants, trying to catch his breath. You reluctantly do as he asks, leaning against the side of the vehicle. He stands before you, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, sweetheart. I'm just as excited as you are. But can we, I dunno...enjoy the moment for a minute? Before we go running all over town?" He asks nicely, he wants to savor this memory with you. You've barely signed the lease, and you're already rushing to fill the place up with new things.

"Of course we can. I'm sorry, I'm just so happy, Eds." You sigh, forcing yourself to slow the hell down. Your arms go around his middle, pulling him closer to you. "Is this slow enough for you?" You smirk, and he nods.

"It's perfect, babydoll." He kisses you again, wasting no time in slipping his tongue in your mouth.

"Mm." You hum against him, grabbing hold of his ass this time. He groans quietly, his tongue rolling more roughly against yours. You continue to kiss in the parking lot of your new home, not giving a damn that your potential neighbors could see. You're both far too happy to let disapproving eyes deter you from expressing exactly how you feel in this moment. "I love you, Eds." You say softly once your mouths finally part. You're getting a little teary-eyed now, it's like your heart is overflowing.

"I love you too, Y/N." Eddie smiles, though his bottom lip quivers ever so slightly. We finally made it. One step closer to where we want to be, he thinks to himself, overjoyed at the fact. He never thought he'd actually find a woman like you, let alone move out of Wayne's trailer. He's the luckiest man in the whole world right now, and he's not going to mess this up like so many other things he has in his life. He'll never hurt you, or let you down, or take you for granted. Because all it takes is one twist of fate to take all of this away. And he'll be damned if that's ever going to happen. "Alright." Eddie breaks the love-stuffed silence, sniffing harshly to ward off his tears. "Let's go, sweetheart. Our apartment isn't gonna furnish itself."

"Yes, please!" You say excitedly, bouncing up and down a little.

"You're so cute when you're excited, princess." Eddie smiles, something he just can't seem to stop doing. It's kinda hurting the muscles in his face, but he doesn't even care.

"And you're very handsome when you can't stop smiling, baby. You have the best smile I've ever seen." You repay the compliment, which makes his cheeks tinge pink. After all this time, you still make him blush when you say nice things about him. Ugh, he's too perfect. How did I get so fucking lucky?

"You don't always have to compliment me back, ya know." He chuckles.

"I know, but I want to. You deserve to hear nice things, too." You shrug, feeling a little silly now. You can't help it. Whenever Eddie says sweet things to you, it's like you're compelled to return the favor. You love how bashful he gets every time, and it's clear that he hasn't gotten much in the way of compliments prior to being with you. That makes you feel sad sometimes, knowing that he hasn't had a very easy go of life. Such simple words have such an intense effect on him, it makes your heart ache. It also annoys you, to know that there are people out there who have made him feel bad about himself.

"If you say so." He replies, rolling his eyes a little. He moves away from you, going to the other side of the van to hop into the driver's seat. You follow suit, sliding into your spot and pulling the door closed behind you. "So, where to first?" He asks, turning the keys in the ignition.

The rest of your afternoon is spent browsing around at a couple of second-hand stores in town. You're not after anything in particular. You just need some basic pieces to get you both started. You manage to find a coffee table, a small couch, a bed frame, a pair of end tables, a floor lamp, and a television, all of which are in very good condition. Using the impeccable bartering skills you learned from your mother, you get really good deals on every single item as well. Eddie watches in impressed awe of you playing hardball with the workers in the shops, refusing to pay a penny more than what you think the items are worth.

You pack it all up in the back of the van, barely able to fit everything in despite the large space back there. Eddie drives you both back to the apartment, and you struggle together in getting your new furniture up the stairs. You of course start with the smaller items, putting them in the far corner of the living room so you have space to bring the couch in. When it comes time to bring in said couch, things become a little frustrating for the both of you. It's just slightly too wide for the staircase, barely budging past the handrail without causing the wood to creak.

"Shit. It's too big." Eddie sighs, already annoyed and sweating from lugging the tables and that damn television up these godforsaken stairs.

"The couch can squish down a little if you just push harder." You insist from your end of the equation. You're up a couple of steps while Eddie's on the ground floor. You've managed to wedge the sofa slanting upwards with the small wooden feet touching the third step. You're sure if you both keep pushing and pulling, it'll slide on up.

"Y/N, I really don't think it's going to fit." Eddie shakes his head.

"Eddie, please? Just try? I really think it'll work." You beg. You know you're right about this, but you need his muscle to help you execute it.

"Alright, I'll try harder." He gives you an aggravated look and huffs, bracing himself against the side of the couch. He groans as he pushes as hard as he can against the stubborn thing, and it manages to slip upwards a tad more. Just like you said it would. You try to help out by bending over your side of the couch and pulling the arm towards you. The sliding becomes easier, and you carefully maneuver yourself up the stairs backwards so your feet don't get trapped. You're both grunting and straining your muscles as you slink up to your floor like inchworms. Sweat drips down your faces, and your lungs are on fire by the time you're halfway up. "Okay, stop for a second. I need a break." Eddie pants, ceasing his pushing. You stop as well, nodding in agreement. This is still insanely difficult, but you'll reach the top soon enough.

"Told you it would work." You say snootily, drawing his eyes to you.

"We've still got a ways to go, sweetheart. And I don't appreciate the attitude." He snips, narrowing his gaze.

"What? I'm just saying一" You try to argue, but he shakes his head.

"I'm really not in the mood right now, Y/N. I'm tired, and hot, and sweating like a goddamn pig. I didn't even want to do all this shit today." He raises his voice, gesturing frantically with his hands.

"I thought you were excited to do all of this." You shoot back, crossing your arms.

"Of course I am!" He shouts. "I just一" He pauses, clenching his teeth and sighing. "I just feel like we're rushing things." His words hit you painfully in the chest, you thought you were on the same page.

"But I thought you wanted this! To move in with me, and be happy together!" You shout back, wondering if you're understanding him correctly. He's making it sound like he doesn't want any of this at all, which confuses you to no end.

"For fuck's sake, that's not what I meant!" Eddie groans loudly, realizing his poor choice of words. He takes a second to calm down, looking in your eyes before speaking again. "I just meant that we don't have to do every part of this process in one day. That's all. I'm so, so happy and excited to be doing this with you, angel. I promise, I would never regret any decision we make together. 'Kay?" He speaks apologetically, he didn't mean to scare you, or make you think he doesn't take your relationship seriously.

"Okay." You nod, taking a deep breath once you understand that he's not going back on his promise.

"Okay, good. I'm sorry for being a jerk." Eddie says, happy to avoid a massive fight. Emotions are running high, and moving all this shit is stressful as hell. But he reminds himself that this is all for your shared love, and desire to build a home together.

"It's fine. I was being a little bitchy, too." You reply with a light laugh. You're more than happy to look past this stress-induced spat and focus on helping Eddie get this couch upstairs.

"You said it, not me." He chuckles, the mood between you lightening significantly. "Now, let's get this fuckin' thing upstairs already. I'm sick of having a barrier between us. I'd like to kiss and make up as soon as possible." He smiles warmly at you, getting into position to start pushing again.

"I'd like that too, Eds." You giggle, bending over once more to assist him. You work together to get the couch to the second floor, sliding it across the hallway to your door. You open it up for the both of you, pushing the sofa inside together. Once it's in far enough to shut the door, you stop moving it altogether. You close the door, and plop onto the couch sat sideways in the room together. You're both breathing heavily again, your bodies collapsed against one another. "We did it." You pant, swallowing hard as your mouth has gone dry.

"Damn right we did." Eddie huffs, putting his arm around you to bring you closer. A few minutes pass until you catch your breath, and he nudges you gently to open your eyes and look around the room. You do, finding your new belongings messily arranged about the place. It's all becoming so real now. You have your own apartment, and your own furniture. And as tired as you are, you feel absolutely amazing right now. "Mind if I get that kiss now?" He asks, drawing your gaze to him.

"Sure thing, love." You say warmly, leaning in with him to press your lips to his. You carefully push on Eddie's chest to get him to lie down, and you straddle him once his head meets the couch cushion. You continue to kiss him, rolling your tongue against his. You instinctively grind yourself down onto him, drawing low moans from the both of you.

"Fuck." Eddie breaks away, hissing slightly as he starts to get hard.

"You okay, Eds?" You ask, worried about the pained look on his face.

"Yeah." He sighs, annoyed that his cock still hurts. He wants you so badly, but even making out with you is too much. "Still a little sore, that's all."

"I'm sorry, baby. We can stop." You say in understanding, quickly shifting yourself off of his lap.

"That's probably best." He sits up, feeling even more sexually frustrated now.

"We should probably head back to the house anyway. I'd hate to miss Mom calling." You suggest with a shrug, doing your best to push away all the filthy thoughts swirling around your head. All it'll do is wind you up even more than you already are. It's practically torture at this point, not being able to be intimate with Eddie. If only you hadn't pushed yourselves so hard on Friday. Lesson learned.

"Whatever you want, baby. I should probably go back to the trailer later tonight, though. I think being around you so much is making it difficult to...recover." He sighs, rolling his eyes at himself. If he didn't think with his dick as often as he does, this wouldn't be a problem.

"Yeah, I think 'little Eddie' could do with some alone time." You laugh, making him scoff.

"I thought you hated it when I called him that." He nudges you playfully.

"Oh, I do. When you say it." You tease, falling into a laughing fit.

"You little fucker!" Eddie exclaims, quickly pinning you down on the couch so he can tickle you.

"Eddie! Stop it!" You squeal through your laughing, trying to fight him off. But it's no use, he's far too practiced in this for you to squirm away. He's got you pinned down with his knees on your thighs, and his fingers rapidly wiggle across your stomach and sides.

"Not a chance, princess!" Eddie cackles goofily, enjoying the redness of your face and your struggle to catch your breath.

"Eddie! Please! I can't breathe!" You gasp out the words, the muscles in your stomach tensing.

"Say the magic words, sweetheart. You know the rules." He taunts you, smirking madly as his eyes pierce yours.

"You're killing me here..." You try to protest, you hate to stroke his ego too much with the particular sentence he's waiting for you to say. But he doesn't let up, and he doesn't stop staring down at you. He'll keep going until you piss yourself, unless you give in. "Ugh, fine!" You finally yield, rolling your eyes. "You're the sexiest man alive, and you have the biggest dick I've ever seen." You recite the ridiculous phrase you've previously agreed upon uttering to get Eddie to stop whenever he gets the urge to tickle you. You do have one that he says when the roles are reversed, but you don't try this nearly as often as he does.

"Damn straight." He stops torturing you, giving you a brief kiss before climbing off of your panting body. "Let's get you home, and you can tell Claudia all about today." He stands up from the sofa, holding his hand out for yours.

"She's gonna flip her shit when I tell her!" You laugh giddily, quickly becoming excited again.

"Yeah, but I know she'll be happy for us, sweetheart." He presses a kiss to your forehead, and you grab your purse on your way out the door. You make sure to lock it this time, leaving your newly-cluttered apartment behind for the time being.

Eddie drives you home, the two of you sharing a smoke along the way. And the second you walk into the house, the phone begins to ring. You rush over to it, quickly picking up the headset. "Hello?" You ask, but you already know it's your mother.

"Hi, sugarpuff! We made it to Nebraska for the night. What have you been up to?" Mom chirps on the other end.

"Well, I actually have something exciting to tell you..." You bite your lip, holding back the urge to scream the news into the phone because you're so damn happy.

"Oh, god! You're not pregnant, are you?" She asks, sounding very disappointed.

"No! Jesus!" You shriek, annoyed at her for asking you such a thing. Eddie gives you an odd look, but you wave him off.

"Oh, thank God." She sighs in relief. "What's the big news?"

"Well, Eddie and I went looking at apartments today. And...we found a place!" You happily announce.

"Already? That was fast." She says, confused that you've chosen a place to live so quickly.

"Yeah, I know. But the second we walked in the apartment, we knew it was home." You reply, your heart swelling as you remember the snapshots your mind showed you when Pam let you inside.

"Well, I'm very happy for you both, sugarpuff. Did you do anything else today?" She asks, referring to you setting your class schedule.

"We bought some furniture and put it in the new place. And don't worry about school, Mom. I'm putting in for my classes tomorrow." You reassure her that your other responsibilities aren't falling to the wayside in your pursuit of independence.

"Okay, good. Well, I'll let you go. I'll call again tomorrow night. I love you, kiddo. And I'm proud of you." You can hear her getting teary-eyed over the phone, you can imagine what's going through her head right now. Her baby birds are leaving the nest, and soon she'll be all by herself in this house.

"I love you too, Mom. Goodnight." You say softly, hanging up the phone.

"How'd she take it?" Eddie asks, wondering what made you freak out during your conversation.

"She's happy for us. But at first she thought I was pregnant." You sigh, rolling your eyes. It's always about babies with her. You haven't had the heart to tell her you don't want kids at all, she's always wanted to be a grandmother. You're kind of relying on Dustin having some kids of his own to keep her off your back.

"Oh." Eddie says, nodding. "You're not—" You already know what he's about to ask, so you cut him off.

"Do you seriously think I wouldn't tell you if I was knocked up, Eds?" You ask incredulously, crossing your arms and giving him a stern look.

"No. Sorry, I just—" He apologizes while shaking his head, and tries to go into a long explanation as to why something like this would worry him. But he doesn't need to.

"I know, love. Relax. We're on the same page here." You say calmly, walking over to him to put your arms around his shoulders. "You're really scared of that happening, aren't you?" You ask, watching his eyes widen at your question.

"Maybe a little." Eddie shrugs.

"I know you don't want to end up like your dad, Eddie. We've talked about it, more than once. But I'm on the pill, which I never miss a day of. And if something happens, we have plenty of options. We're gonna be fine. Okay?" You say sweetly, trying your best to put him at ease. You're not exactly keen on ending up pregnant, either. Giving birth is probably your absolute worst nightmare. All that pain and discomfort, for a tiny human you don't even want at all? No thanks.

"Okay." He nods, pulling you closer to rest his head on your shoulder. You always bring him peace when he's worrying about something. This kind of interaction usually goes the other way around, of course, you're a far more anxious person than Eddie is. "I love you, sweetheart. No matter what happens." He nuzzles into your neck now, wanting to feel more of your warmth.

"I love you too, Eds. As long as we have each other, we can handle anything." You gently kiss the top of his head, and use your hand to stroke his hair. Even with these brief moments of fear or anger you've had today, this is still one of the highlights of your relationship so far. You wouldn't change a single second of it. You continue to stand like this for a while, enjoying the comforting sounds of light breathing and steady heartbeats. "You hungry?" You ask, your own stomach starting to growl.

Eddie raises his head to meet your gaze, a small smile on his lips. "After hauling that fuckin' couch up all those stairs earlier? I'm starving." He answers, already pulling away from you to make a trip to the kitchen. You follow close behind, watching him dig around in the refrigerator to see what there is to work with.

"You gonna make something special, baby?" You ask curiously. Eddie pulls out a couple of steaks, asparagus, and a few other items. He also takes a couple potatoes from the island, bringing everything to the counter between the stove and the sink.

"Maybe. You able to wait a little bit?" Eddie asks without looking at you, too focused on pulling out the spices he needs.

"Oh, you don't want any help?" You question, coming off more disappointed than you meant to. He stops what he's doing, turning from his pile of ingredients to look at you.

"Of course I want your help, angel." He says warmly, extending his hand. "C'mere, you can peel the potatoes. And then cut them and the asparagus."

"Okay." You do as he asks, going over to him and putting your hand in his for a minute.

Eddie pulls you in by the waist, he just can't get enough of you in his personal space today. "You're the perfect kitchen assistant, you know that?" He says sweetly.

"Oh, I know I am. Someone has to keep you from burning the house down." You tease, unable to help yourself.

"I'll have you know, I've only caused three kitchen fires. None of which you were a witness to, thank you very much." He chuckles.

"Yeah, that's true. But, they were still pretty recent. Wayne told me all about it." You giggle, remembering how stressed out Wayne was about Eddie possibly setting the trailer ablaze in his effort to impress you. Thankfully, your boyfriend has come a long way since then.

"Ugh, that's it! Get out of my kitchen! I don't need an assistant anymore!" Eddie playfully turns you around and tries to shoo you out of the room.

"Eddie!" You protest, planting your feet and gripping the kitchen island so he can't push you out.

"Nope! If you're gonna make fun of me, you can go sit down!" He continues, struggling to shove you away.

"Baby, I'm sorry! I was just kidding! I'll be nice, I promise! I wanna help!" You plead, unable to stop laughing at this little game. He finally stops pushing you, allowing you to stay.

"Fine. But only if you're a good girl for me." He says lowly in your ear, his hands still resting on your shoulders. "Promise?" He asks, unable to resist teasing you a little bit by pulling out his bedroom voice.

"I promise, Eds." You answer breathlessly, mentally cursing him for turning you on again. You have half a mind to press your ass into him as payback, but you know that won't end well for you. You know full well that Eddie will punish you by shoving his face between your thighs and refusing to leave, until you're in tears and begging him to stop.

"That's what I like to hear, sweetheart. Now please, peel and the cut the vegetables like I asked." He commands darkly, letting you out of his grip so he can focus on preparing the meat.

"Anything for you, my prince." You reply, swallowing thickly at the wetness gathering between your legs. Damn him, I'm gonna be up all night once he goes home. You put the thought aside for now, retrieving a sharp knife and cutting board to fulfill the tasks Eddie has given you. Once you're fully able to, you are going to pay him back ten-fold for driving you crazy like this. Then he'll be sorry.

To be continued...

[orchid-mantis-petals]

WHEN HOME BECOMES YOU CHAPTER 7

/ Hey!! Hello!! a little later than intended but here she is Chapter 7

/ As always a thank you to @maximumkillshot and @taeminsung not only my muses but my spirit guides as I write this story.

/ In the next coming weeks I am going to try and officially build a schedule to follow and post to. That is all the news for now. ONWARD!!

/ Genre: angst, fluff, comfort, a little bit of crack

/ Warnings: talks of sleep, anxiety, ptsd, insomnia, fear, sadness, Swearing

/ Summary:

“What about family??”

“I haven’t heard from them in nearly five years,” a gasp left him, his plump lips sucked into his own teeth. “Chan don’t fret over them, they weren’t kind to me. I chose to leave them behind. My friends, my true family knew that leaving America was the right choice for me. My fresh start,”

“We could be your family,” it was such a simple thing for him to say, but you knew deep in his heart he meant it. Every word of it. 

When morning came it was the first thing you noticed was your sleep had been dreamless. Not a thought behind your eyes, as you opened them to the renewed space that you had been given. The silk sheets slid against your skin cool to the touch. It was refreshing against your body. When you finally slipped out of the bed you stretched high and long, the bright morning light that cast over the city calmed your soul. It was as though Felix and Han had come to grace you even though he wasn’t there. You took a picture of the sunrise, and sent it to him and Han with a message attached.

‘Thank you for the sunshine boys,’

Their responses back quick and sweet as you readied for the day. The gym was your first goal, with a smoothie in hand you made your way to the JYP building. On your way out you spied the extra helmet at your door. There was no rhyme or reason for it but you took it with you. At the building you got in your scheduled time for your gym session. There hadn’t been time to have long planned workouts, Stray Kids’ long winded, fully filled schedules made sure of that. You still found time, whether it be in your hotel room or in the sparse hour or so of free time they had. You liked to dedicate that time to keeping your body in shape for your work. Afterward you looked at your phone. In your month with the boys you had found it easier to just sync your calendar to Chan’s. But as you scrolled through your phone there were no events scheduled. Which was odd, you always had their schedule. Aside from a few meetings in the later afternoon you didn’t have much to do. So after your shower you wandered up to Chan’s studio. With a gentle knock you waited for him to let you in. His voice was distant beyond the door but he beckoned you to come inside. Your eyes cast still down, cast to your phone screen.

“Chan, did you add me to the current calendar?? It isn’t showing up on my phone,” when you looked up you finally took stock of him.

“Shi, I forgot, hold on,” the shadows under his eyes seemed darker, a deeper color to the skin around his lids. You saw his shoulders sagged, his hoodie heavy against his body. As though the entirety of it was a weight that dragged against him. There was a hunch to his back as he leaned over to grab his phone from his bag on the floor. Once retrieved, your phone dinged as he added you to the calendar events for the next two months. Your eyes flashed over the prior days schedule, on it you saw 3Racha had been scheduled for NIZI. A current production of the company that featured the producing team of Stray Kids as judges for future JYP groups. By now it had a few seasons, the original purpose was to have various idol coach trainees. There wasn’t much to Chan you knew, not yet anyway. But it was clear in your eyes that he was exhausted. Beyond that, sleep seemed to evade him. You could see that in every part of his body.

“Are you alright??” You knew the answer, no, but would he say so?? Or would he lie to you.

“I-I don’t know. I am exhausted,”

“How much sleep have you gotten??”

“When??” there was a shrug, that shifted the weight of his hoodie back more. You would reprimand him, would have, had you not known the struggle he had with insomnia. How it affected his daily life, the entity that shrouded over him.

“Tell me about it,” your body settled on the studio couch at the back of the room. It was a staple to their videos, well known and well loved. His eyes roamed over you, the light of the room cast a gold glow over his irises. A hidden color in the deep brown pools. There was a wobble to his lip, a fight he couldn’t keep up due to the tiredness that ebbed off him.

“We had to, we, there was,” he couldn’t gather his thoughts, too many of them all at once. You watched as his eyes darted around the room, as he tried to find the thoughts that plagued him. Slowly you reached across the room your hand slid into his, a squeeze to assure him that you were there.

“Take your time,”

“I-It is really hard to work on this NIZI project. While I enjoy having the time and ability to cultivate the young minds of the new Idol generation. It is also hard to see myself within them,” from what little you know of him, the years he had spent as a trainee. Some of the younger members often remarked on how many years it had been, how he was the longest trainee in the company's current history. You didn’t speak, not until he had finished, his thoughts gathered more before he stood to pace the room. “I worry for them, for those who don’t make it. I know the strength of this industry, like the back of my hand. They would not survive it if we let them Debut. But it guts me to have to let them go. To see their faces as I crush their dreams, their hopes. I remember when I was there, when I felt that,” you reached out to him. You dragged him to the couch beside you, with a pat on the middle seat you turned to look at him.

“I may not know the reasons, the whys of it all. There are experiences of yours that I may not understand. But I can say this, those trainees are safer with you there to guide them. Because you know, you know what it is like to hit those points in life. How hard it is to be in that darkness, there is no one more qualified to know if these boys can or will make it in this career,” his head tipped back with a deep sigh, you watched his anxiety float off of him. His hoodie became a comfort rather than a weight against him. Beside him you felt safe, all of these boys had this effect on you.

“Y/N, tell me how did you know??” your lip tucked into your teeth as you pulled your knees up to your chest.

“Because, Chan. I know what it is like to feel so hopeless. As though the entire world had turned on you. When this job was offered to me I didn’t hesitate to take it. There was nothing left for me in America. Few people to love, and those who I do wanted me to chase this dream,”

“What about family??”

“I haven’t heard from them in nearly five years,” a gasp left him, his plump lips sucked into his own teeth. “Chan don’t fret over them, they weren’t kind to me. I chose to leave them behind. My friends, my true family knew that leaving America was the right choice for me. My fresh start,”

“We could be your family,” it was such a simple thing for him to say, but you knew deep in his heart he meant it. Every word of it.

“I think I would like that very much,” you smiled at him, the soft pull of your lips mirrored on his as he watched you. Whatever work the two of you had forgotten in the deep conversations you engaged in. Soon enough silence followed your voice. As your head turned to look at him, eyebrows raised in a quizzical manner. Chan was passed out against the back of the couch. His neck cocked at an odd angle as his breath came out in soft huffs. You laughed softly as you moved to pull him down away from the couch back. Your own body moved so you could continue work as he slept. After your laptop was set up on the coffee table, earbuds on and in you moved Chan. His head came to rest on your thighs. With slow and careful movements you adjusted him into a comfortable position on your lap. When he didn’t stir at all you knew he was exhausted. His body was a heavy weight next to and against you. It was all worth the ache that would come later, to see him so relaxed with you, next to you.

An hour and a half passed, three of your meetings finished by the time the door opened. Changbin emerged from the other side. Your hand stilled in Chan's hair as you raised your index finger to your lips. An ask to be quiet as he putted about the room. Soon he joined you. He chose the free office chair, his own laptop beside yours as he worked. A few minutes later he was deep into his work, his head bopped to whatever beat that had been stuck in his head now out for the universe to see and hear. Eventually he passed the headphones to you, a silent offer to listen. You wanted to, but the man in your lap prevented you from moving. Changbin nodded, he moved around the table. Settled the headphones over your head before he moved back to play the beat he just created. Chan stirred beneath you a shiver wracked his spine, his hoodie abandoned on the chair Chanbin sat in. Before you listened to the beat you reached back behind the couch. A random spotify blanket that was haphazardly draped over the couch. You settled it over him, softly tucked the back of it to his body. A small cocoon is what he became. As the blanket settled over him you and Changbin watched as he tucked his nose under the soft fabric, a soft sigh escaped him as he nuzzled into your thigh and the blanket. The beat all but abandoned as Changbin stood, hand over his mouth to muffle the scream that was locked in his chest. You watched as he slipped away into the recording booth. A sound proof space you noticed as he let his hand drop to let out the scream. After a few moments he returned phone in hand to snap a picture of Chan asleep in your lap. Happily you let him.

“Thank you,” he mouthed as he returned to his seat to play the beat he’d created. When it started you listened intently, your own head moved to the intricate sound he created in mere minutes. When it was finished you removed the headphones and let Changbin take them back from you. He waited patiently for your feedback.

“It was good,” you whispered as you settled your fingers across your keys to finish out some paperwork for a couple staff transfers. The tranquil silence that was created between the three of you was broken when the door swung open once more. This time Han entered the room, at the sight of you he squealed. His voice was loud as he rushed over to you for a hug. The movements jostled Chan in your lap effectively waking the poor man.

“Hannie, you need to look around first,” Changbin scolded as he pulled the younger man away from you. He worried he squashed Chan in his effort to hug you.

“I am so sorry Chan,” your fingers carded into the dark haired man's locks in your lap in hopes you would ease the startled feeling he must have from being woken up so abruptly. There was a heavy sigh before he forced himself upright with a groan.

“It’s alright Sungie, we need to work anyway,” his eyes met yours with a silent thank you for the kindness you had offered him today. You just smiled at him and stood as you collected your belongings.

“Well I will let you three get to it. Can’t keep the geniuses from marking their art,” you made sure to give Han a proper hug before you left them for the rest of the day. Han protested a small bit before Chan dragged him to the recording booth.

“We need to make guides Han,”

**** **** **** ****

Work that afternoon had become hard for him. It wasn’t the usual back and forth banter he’d have with Chan or the constant nag from Han to change something that kept him distracted. No it was you, Changbin was utterly entrapped by the presence you had created in his life. In the lives of his small family. His Whimsy, the kind soul that remained a mystery.

“What do you think of this Changbin??” He wasn’t paying attention, not in the slightest. His mind elsewhere, to the place you sat on that couch. Your nimble fingers tapped lightly away at your keyboard, movements small to keep Chan from waking in your lap below you. There was kindness in every action you took toward them. How he longed to be the person to rest his head over your plush thighs, to be given the permission to exist like that with you. He was not jealous of Chan, not in the slightest. Rather he was so happy to have found his leader passed out, you had guided him to sleep. Changbin was thankful you had gifted the older man the short nap he was given. “Bin,” his head finally turned to meet Chan, eyebrows raised as he hummed in return.

“Mm what??”

“Channie-Hyung, hes lovestruck,” Han sing-songed as he spun in his chair before he returned to the main desk. Changbin felt his hands wrap around his shoulders as he giggled. “I don’t blame you she's pretty,”

“It’s not just that Hannie,” his hands raked over his face as an exasperated sigh left his lips. “She's gorgeous, stunning. But it, it’s not just that. There is this kindness to her. She works so hard to protect us. I want to hear her voice everyday, listen to her speak to me. Around me, her existence in its own right is exquisite,” his mouth moved before he even had time to stop it. The words tumbled out of him, the experience not far off from when he created lyrics. All of it spilled out of him, heart bare and open for his members to see.

“Ask her on a date,” Chan remarked, his fingers typed away at the computer as he arranged the music again. It didn’t fit, not yet. Changbin groaned, unable to now form words for the pure discontentment he had with the idea. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to ask you out. It was that he wasn’t sure how. Or even where to begin. “Just simply ask her out to dinner,”

“I can’t,” he groaned as his head came to thump against the desk effectively rattling the contents that lay strewn about it.

“You can just simply say ‘hey Y/N let's go get dinner.’ Easy as pie,” was it really?? It didn’t feel that way not to him. Chan sighed this time his eyes glanced over the clock on his computer before he moved back with a stretch. “Well speaking of dinner, since we can’t seem to focus we might as well head to the dorms for a break,” Changbin hadn’t planned to protest, not when he truly couldn’t focus on the task at hand. Not when you caused a welcome plague over his mind.

When the car was called they ventured down to the garage that they were always picked up and dropped off from. There not far off he spied your motorcycle, you too were still here. That fact alone made his heart race, there was a chance to see you one more time for the day. Maybe, hopefully. Not long after the three settled outside the elevator to wait for the car did the familiar ding of the metal doors opening draw their attention to behind them. There you stood phone in hand as you stepped out to join them. When you glanced up you smiled at them. He couldn’t help but smile back. Changbin was starstruck by your existence alone. How could he not smile when his whimsy smiled at him?? Before he knew it the words fell from his lips just as fast as he thought of them.

“Dinner, you and me. Together, please,” well that was one way to ask. He heard snickers behind him before his fellow members decided to speak their mind.

“Well that’s one way to do it,”

“He got the words right. Delivery needed work,” he looked back to find Han leaning over Chan with his usual cheeky smile. He was sure to flip them off for their unnecessary commentary to his embarrassment. You however laughed, your soft airy laugh he loved to hear.

“Yes, let’s,”

“When??” He found his chance. He wouldn’t lose it now.

“Now, my place,” something cold and hard pressed to his abdomen. When he looked down he found a helmet had been pressed to his stomach. A helmet, its colors matched yours perfectly. Though the blue and pink tones were in reverse. When his hands clasped over it you dropped the full weight of it to be held by him. “Come on lover boy,” you turned on your heels and walked toward your bike. It was a view he could watch all day. Sure it made him feel not far off form a teenage boy as he RESPECTFULLY eyed your body as it walked away from him. How could he not when you wore your gear. The pants alone were criminal. A deep purple followed the inner and outer seam of your body drew further attention to your ass. The jacket that matched fit snug against your shoulders, and chest. He watched as you turned to look at him, your hands slowly pulled the zipper up up and up over your neck. It was Chan that pushed him into action, the older took his gym bag and nudged him to follow you. He did with careful steps he joined you beside the bike, helmet still lazily clasped in his hands. Your brown eyes glanced up at him, a smile on your lips before you reached into your bag for your own helmet. “Don’t be shy,”

“It’s hard not to be, when you look at me like that,” curse his mouth. Curse his brain for having let that slip out. Your laugh met his ears once more like a song he didn’t know he needed to hear. By now he knew his ears were tinted red. To hide he slipped his head into the helmet his cheeks squished some with all the heavy padding. It felt odd, tight, and strikingly comforting to have the helmet over his head.

“Wait you’re missing something,” you laughed as you reached around and grabbed something from your bag. He couldn’t see what it was, you had moved too quick for him to see what you had put whatever it was on his helmet. Your cheeky smile was reward enough for him though. “A photo, for the boys,” you said as you slipped your own helmet on and turned to take a selfie with him. In the view of the camera he could see you had put magnetic bunny ears on his helmet. Like yours one flopped down the other upright. In the opposite direction of yours. He smiled for the photo. Though his mouth couldn’t be seen he was sure his eyes gave away his glee. Afterward you handed him your backpack to wear while the two of you rode. He watched beneath the visor as you settled over the bike. Your soft thighs pooled some to accommodate the metal and plastic underneath you. When you settled he moved to sit behind you. His own thighs moved to mold into the seat of the bike. He tried to find purchase in anything other than you. Don't get him wrong, he wanted to touch you. Reach his arms around your torso splay his wide palms over your stomach. But he wouldn’t, not at least until you said so. “Changbin, you’ll fall off if you sit like that,” your arms reached back, your fingers threaded into his as you pulled his arms around your torso. There you settled them over your stomach..dreams really do come true. Changbin willed himself to NOT pop a boner while he sat with your back to him like this.

“Okay,” he nodded, helmet bonked against yours in the effort. It made you both laugh. Though yours was so much prettier than his. When his hands settled over you he felt you twist some as the bike roared to life. If Changbin had to describe the feeling of the engine beneath him he’d say it was similar, not far off from the feeling he got when he growled. The deep rumble from the pit of his stomach rolled through his chest and throat. Until he unleashed all the power he had in his voice out his lips. Your motorcycle was the same, except that slow rumble started from the balls of his feet, up his thighs. It settled there before it ricocheted up his spine and stayed in his shoulders only to go back down, then back up once more. It was unfamiliar, new, he gripped you tighter as your own feet lifted off the concrete and the bike moved forward. He leaned over you as you pressed forward, his body molded into yours with the effort to not fall off. The fading sunlight hit you both the moment that you had left the garage. The tired screeched some with the effort to get onto the main streets of the city. He’d seen this city before, it has been his home for many years now. But under the tinted visor it was different.

“It’s my favorite view,” your voice came clear through his ear. It startled him some but he relaxed when he realized he was connected to your helmet through a Bluetooth device.

“I can see why,” he sighed as he leaned back some, as he dared to look around the city he knew so well. He loved it, every second of it. As the two of you zipped through the busy streets he laughed. The sun cast shadows over you both as you took them over the Han bridge. The gold light cast over the water made it shimmer. It was so bright Changbin knew if his visor wasn’t down he'd be blinded. But with it down he could see the full beauty of the water that was below you both. With one last look he settled back with his head over your shoulder to watch the streets in front of you. The music you were playing was funny, American. He couldn’t catch the lyrics but he’d have to ask you for it later to translate the meaning behind it.

The ride wasn’t long enough in his opinion, your apartment was tucked neatly away just outside the heart of the city. When you parked he waited for your signal to get down. When you tapped his arms he let go of the grip he had on you and slipped off the bike. Not long after you slipped off it your legs were far steadier than his as you stood on the concrete floor. “You’ll have to teach me how to drive,”

“Gladly. Though Felix asked first,” you waved him to follow you, and he did. Like a lost puppy he followed you into the building helmet in his hands as he walked behind you. The concierge waved to you before he looked at Changbin. “Good evening. I’ll have some more guests later I’ll page them up,”

“I can make badges for them if you would like to miss,” there was a thought behind your eyes before you nodded.

“Will you make two please??” When the man at the desk nodded you began the walk toward the elevator once more. The small fob on your keys opened the doors. It allowed you further access to the building. Changbin looked around, the place was high class. The security was immaculate, almost better than his own place. He didn’t even want to know the cost of living in a place like this. With your salary he was sure you could afford it. Still it was a mystery to him. Eight floors up and he followed you off the elevator straight into your front door. Then into your home. “Make yourself at home,” you said as you slipped into your house slippers shoes neatly left at the door. “I’m just going to change really quick,”

“O-okay,” he stepped into the spare slippers as he wandered into the small space you called home. The design of it all gave him more of who you were. What you liked. The neon signs and soft plush couch drew his attention. “So you’re having more company later??” He called out as he looked over the art hung on your walls. Some small photos clipped into magnetic frames tacked neatly on the wall. Your life in another country. A life he didn’t know.

“Yes, the rest of the boys are coming later for a movie. Hyunjin insisted on it as a housewarming sort of thing,” he laughed. It made sense. Ever since Felix and Hyunjin had taken you out shopping he’d heard nothing but all the things Hyunjin did to make you happy. “So that also means you’re invited for movie night,”

“Well I guess it won’t be a hassle since I’m already here,” you laughed, his heart thundered in his chest. When he looked back he saw you tiptoe down the steps of your loft space he felt his cheeks burn at the sight of you. Sure it wasn’t much, you weren’t dressed up like you were at the after party. But any sighting of you in clothes that aren’t your work attire was a blessing to him.

“How does Spaghetti sound??”

“Italian is the way to my heart,” truth be told, any food was. But he was a sucker for Italian.

“Wonderful. My MeeMaw made a mean spaghetti recipe,” while you took up residence in the kitchen he sat at the small island bar to watch you work. “If you sit there I’ll give you something to do,”

“Please, I hate just sitting here,” the two of you laughed softly and soon he was given a task to do. Onions to cut, among other small veggies while you prepared the meat and noodles. “Was your grandmother Italian??”

“No, far from it actually, but she had an affinity for Italian food,” your smile warmed his heart. He’d never heard you speak of your family but it was good to hear someone within your life loved you. Enough to gift you a smile when you spoke of them. The conversations between the two of you became endless. One subject filtered into another with ease, there was no awkward pause or silence to fill. He loved every second. And soon enough you joined him, with two plates in hand you gave him one as you sat beside him at the counter. “Hyunjin said a dining room table wasn’t practical for my small space so he didn’t end up getting me one,”

“Yes he told me all about your shopping adventure when he and Felix got to practice last night,” he dipped his fork into his meal and began to twirl it until he had a decent bite of the spaghetti on it. The flavor was unlike anything he’s had before. It was spaghetti, yes, but there was something different. The sauce was rich, thick, but not so much it made a weight in your stomach. Whatever your MeeMaw had in her recipe was divine. A hearty groan escaped his throat as he savored the flavors in his mouth. When he turned to look at you, your eyes were already on him. He lit up knowing you had waited to see how he felt about this meal. “Y/N. Make me this again,”

“If you react like that everytime I do then yes. I will gladly,”

“The boys are going to be so jealous,”

“Let them. They didn’t ask me to dinner. You did,” oh..was there another one of his members you wished to go out with. Had he read the flirtatious banter between you two wrong?? “Get out of your head Seo Changbin. Dinner with you is exactly what I wanted,” he lit up with your reassurances and continued to eat beside you. As you talked he learned you were close with your maternal grandparents, but the rest of your family remained a mystery. You refused to speak of them. He didn’t pry, you’d come to him when you’re ready. He was sad to find the only relatives you adored had passed.

“Is it hard to be here in Korea when you can’t visit their graves??”

“No, I have them with me always,” you shifted to move your pant leg up. It felt scandalous to Changbin to watch you pull the stretchy fabric up up and up to your thigh. But there he saw it. A beautiful floral and star design littered your skin. It was wrapped higher than your pants allowed. The delicate ink took over the entire expanse of your left leg. He’d seen the edges of it on your ankle but to see it in its near full glory was marvelous. “My artist put their ashes in the ink. So they are with me forever,”

“Wow, it's beautiful. Suits you well,” he watched your skin disappear beneath your pants once more as you turned to finish your meal.

“They were everything to me. It feels good to know even with them gone I still have a part of them with me,” he smiled as he listened. There was so much more he wanted to know about you. So much he wished you’d tell him. He wished this dinner would last eternity. But..it couldn’t. With both your plates clear Changbin insisted he do the dishes. After all the effort you took in cooking he made sure you had the chance to relax some before 7 other people invaded your space. After he finished he found you at the wall with the framed photos. The ones that felt a touch out of place. Yet they belonged so well. More parts of you he didn’t know.

“The tall beefy one is Axel,” he listened, you had willingly offered some more of your life. He didn’t want to stop you. “He is my best friend. He urged me to take this opportunity. The night I met you Changbin. If he hadn’t dragged me out to work. I would have missed the opportunity to work abroad. Axel is a huge reason why I’m here, why I’m with you in this moment,”

“I will have to thank him for bringing my Whimsy to me,”

“What??”

“I-I I am so sorry that wasn’t meant to be said..it’s what I call you in my head. W-Whimsy. The woman with the most Wh-Whimsical smile,” his cheeks felt as though they were on fire he couldn’t even believe himself for saying it aloud. Now he stuttered with embarrassment as he tried to explain himself. “You hate it..I’ll stop,” your hand came to rest on his chest in a gentle motion that told him to shut up. When his eyes met yours he melted your cheeks dusted in his favorite pink. A pink that brought out your freckles.

“No, I like it. Please call me that,” he nodded slowly, he didn’t want to stop looking at you. Never. Soon his hand moved, he wanted to join yours. He was sure you could feel his heart as it ricocheted in his chest. But before his hand came to rest over yours the door buzzer went off. He groaned..of course..the guys were here. And this moment between you two had to end. You laughed when his groan became outward. But you did slip away. You allowed the boys entry. You told them to stop at the front counter to pick up the two fobs you had made then returned to his side. Changbin hadn’t moved from his spot. Eyes still glued to the photos on the wall. To you, and the others caught within them.

“The boys have good timing,”

“Something like that,” he huffed lightly before he wandered over to the couch and sank into the plush cushions with a soft groan.

“It just means you and I will have to do this again,”

“You want that??”

“Of course I want that Changbin,” he smiled at the thought of being able to have time like this with you again. He wanted it too, so very much. Soon the front door burst open Felix and Hyunjin first in the door, their arms wrapped tight around you.

“Not fair!! Changbin I wanted to taste Starlight's cooking first!!”

“Yah!! Changbin you’re so unfair!!”

“Guess it just means she likes me more than the two of you,” he sat back into the couch to watch the chaos he had unfolded. Chan and you both gave him pointed looks of disdain as the wailing from the younger two became louder. Eventually they all settled down for the movie.

**** **** **** ****

Your night went perfectly. The dinner you had with Changbin was pleasant. You had learned so much about him. His life here in Korea. It was nice to just have calm chatter with someone. It helped that said someone was so incredibly handsome. Sure he was more than that. But his looks helped factor in your admiration for him. When the movie started you managed to squeeze yourself between Changbin and Felix. Hyunjin and Han fought for a spot between your legs on the floor. In the end it was Han who won though from the other side of the couch you could see Lee Know was keeping a close eye on you. Sure, you had won him over a little at the airport but it was easy to see he still didn’t trust you entirely. Chan had later explained to you how protective Lee Know was over Han and why. You understood it and did your best to show the older male you weren’t a threat to Han or the rest of the boys. The movie went smoothly.

Eventually Han vacated the space at your feet to snuggle up against Lee Know. Hyunjin and Felix were squished together beside them, also fast asleep. It left you, Chan, Changbin and Lee Know to watch over the others. By the time the movie ended you had to help usher out the four sleepy boys. They reminded you of toddlers as they waddled through your home fists rubbing the sleep from their eyes. You bid them goodnight from the door. There was a soft rattle once it closed. The walls of your apartment echoed the sound. From within you heard further proof of things having shifted in your home. When you turned on the light you noticed one of your forgotten boxes had toppled over. Most of its contents had stayed inside the box, yet a few feet away you noticed the broken photo frame. It was a miracle the glass hadn’t shattered further.

You hated that photo, but part of you still struggled to get rid of it. You had yet to find peace with all that happened. Slowly you reached down to pick it up. As the frame came to rest in your fingers you heard your phone go off. You wondered if maybe one of the boys had forgotten something. Yet when you lifted your abandoned device from the couch it was Axel’s contact you faced. You were quick to answer.

“Hey dude you’re calling at a strange time,” there was a small pause before Ivory’s voice filtered in from the other side.

“Y/N, Axel is in the hospital,”

“He..What happened??”

“Logan, he showed up at his place. He demanded to know where you were,”

“Axel is bigger than him how..” your voice tapered off as it began to shake. Fear riddled you immobile. No matter where you went your past would still come to haunt you. He would still come to haunt you.

“He broke Axel’s leg at the knee with a bat before Axel could stop him,” your eyes watered with the thought of your best friend injured with just the idea to protect you. Nothing made sense, the world faded away from you. Slowly you sank to the floor, phone dropped to the hardwood before you even had the chance to stop it. Not like you could, his voice filtered into your head.

“I will find you Dovey,”

“You can never escape me,”

“Just watch my love, you belong to me,”

“Dovey, dovey, dovey,”

You felt nothing, the photo in your hands slipped into your blurry view. The “happy” faces that lay in the cracked frame evident of the truth behind the people in it. Your scream desperate as you threw the frame away from you. Its near perfectness finally shattered all over the floor. Its glass scattered everywhere. Your hands shook as you reached down to pick it up. To pick up the broken bits of your heart as it lay bare on your floor. You didn’t care if the glass cut you. His voice called to you more and more as you sobbed. “I’ll be good..please..please leave them alone,” a line you’ve said a thousand times with his fist inches from your face. You’d take it all to protect them.

“Dovey, here I come,”

TAG LIST:

@taeminsung @maximumkillshot @feybin @alex--awesome--22 @liknws @palindrome969 @newbbystay @highlydestiny

[svtminji]

𐙚 ‧ RELATIONSHIPS ─── romantic

I 𝓲. I johnny (nct) x oc ୨୧ jeonghan x oc warning: mentions of a miscarriage in johnny's section

╰ johnny + minji -> johnji popularity: 89% - type of relationship: best friends

johnji : 🌺. ─── basic info.

age difference: six months (feb. 1995 & aug. 1995)

time span: may 2018 - sept. 2019

how it began: since both of them were trainees under sm, they managed to create a bond as they were mainly english speakers. although minji did depart from the company three years prior to johnny’s debut, they managed to stay in contact with each other. after a few years of only seeing each other through a screen, johnny asked out minji and she said yes.

dating announcement: it was announced by dispatch on december 31st, 2018. dispatch stated that the couple had been dating months prior to exposing this.

break-up announcement: all good things must come to an end and the couple had realized that. they loved each other deeply but they knew that in the entertainment industry, dating is looked down upon. both of them made the conscious decision to stop their relationship due to their busy schedules and it was announced by their respective companies.

their relationship now: BESTIES!!! omg i cannot stress this enough. friendship dates & many visits to the dorm. mizuki became friends with all of nct by this

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ 민지 ⠀𓍼⠀⠀⠀𝐉.⠀⠀⠀쟈니

johnji : 🌺. ─── etc.

how the public responded: people criticized both of them due to their two-three year dating ban once debuting. they later accepted that their hate couldn’t break them from loving each other. some netizens still criticized minji for being lazy enough about her career.

reason they broke up: the tough schedule between idols dating was easy enough for them to manage. though both nct & svt were getting popular during this time and it lead to them seeing less and less of each other. they both made the conscious decision to break up for the sake of their careers because minji was receiving much stress from the upcoming tour. the pair ended in good terms and still see each other as something that was long ago.

during the time they were dating, minji had morning sickness which led to a pregnancy test. it had came back positive and it was exciting news for the couple. although the sudden news was early in their relationship, both of them knew that they would definitely be good parents. minji and johnny both ended up with the name sienna for their babygirl, or hyunwoo for their babyboy; yet their dreams of having a family would end up shattered.

a song that represents them: best friend - rex orange country & sienna - mizuki

╰ jeonghan + minji -> jeongmi popularity: 101% - type of relationship: engaged besties

jeongmi: 🌺. ─── basic info.

age difference: three months (aug. 1995 & oct. 1995)

time span: nov. 2020 - present

how it began: after a few years of on-and-off flirting and flings, mizuki realized how much she really missed him on nights when she was alone. he was her other half and they were always stuck together like glue.

dating announcement: as always the couple was exposed by their favorite news reporter, dispatch. yet dispatch was not the first signs of their dating accusations. their first stages of trying out new things began with a soft launch. saesangs & carats would see them two by themselves going on "friend dates". although dispatch was the one to announce it, both of them properly announced their relationship once they felt it was time for everyone to understand their relationship. january 6th, 2021 was the day they announced it.

engagement announcement: the couple announced their engagement on february 15th, 2023. both minji and jeonghan had made an instagram post celebrating their engagement, with their comments disabled. although many fans were happy, some netizens had their concerns about the future of seventeen.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ 민지 ⠀𓍼⠀⠀⠀𝐉.⠀⠀⠀정한

jeongmi: 🌺. ─── etc.

how the public responded: many netizens supported it as they were both getting into the age of settling down and placing roots. though, a few people slut-shamed minji for dating a fellow member but was later thrown off due to the massive support.

q&a: do they see having kids in the future? yes, both of them have ... :3 and they always talk about their relationship regarding the future. although minji might have some unresolved pain from a prior pregnancy, she does not mind trying once again to have a child.

a song that represents them -> style - taylor swift & kingston - faye webster

lol i decided to update this post bc the layout was HORRENDUS. omg... never again. i cant spell but thank you for either reading or rereading!

[mrfancyfoot]

Plots & Prosody: Prompts

Raphael x Evie (f!OC)

.

- Good Morning - "Raphael has turned into Evie's unexpectedly enthusiastic guinea pig as she's wrapped up in the grueling project of (re-)inventing cell phones and the internet. Turns out the devil likes 'Good Morning' texts."

This prompt was: ‘A good morning text’

Rating: T-ish / SFW Word Count: 590 Timeline: Plots & Prosody, Part II (before 'A Blank Page') - Canon Tags/Warnings: POV Raphael; Fluff; Humor; Fantasy Tech; Modern Girl in BG; Raphael Learns How to Text; Yes, This is Same-Year BG3; Raphael is Down Bad; Devil Courtship; He's a Silly Devil <3

Main Fic (Rated E/Varied): AO3 + Tumblr | Master List Related Prompts: A Blank Page , Caress , Supreme

[Quick Context: After Evie spends most of Part I (Game Events) ‘befriending the devil,’ yet denying him her soul, Raphael makes an alternative offer: the Orphic hammer in exchange for her time - specifically, a mandatory number of days every month for a span of two years.  He procures his Crown by other means. Evie goes about her new life kick-starting her business and re-inventing modern-day things - for which she makes Raphael a bit of a prototype tester. Unbeknownst to her, Raphael is using what she believes is a “contractually mandated friendship” period to court her as his future Archduchess.]

I apologize for this being a pinch unrealistic - Raphael doesn't immediately devolve into calling Evie slurs when she doesn't reply within 2 minutes...unlike many of the gentlemen in my dating app inbox. 🙃

❤️ Thanks for reading! :3 ❤️

Good morning, love.

Good morning, dear.

Good morning, dear fox.

Raphael tapped at the tiny letters and symbols across the shiny surface of the small communication tablet.  Shaking his head, he was unsatisfied with any of the salvos coming to mind.  Chin in his palm, he drummed his fingers on his desk.

[Good morning.]

There.  Simple.  To the point.  Enough to ensure that his presence was kept at home in her mind even when he was not physically with her.

When no reply was forthcoming, he felt himself growing impatient as he gazed upon the surface of the device with undivided attention.  Within her thorough demonstration of the device the prior evening, Evie had shown that these messages could be sent and received instantaneously but only his own words illuminated when he touched it.

Remembering then that she would be yet asleep at this hour, it was concluded that perhaps he was being unreasonable.  How unbecoming to be so eager.  He would allow her the appropriate time and await her return salutation.

Though he caught his eyes occasionally flicking to the tablet for anything new as he toiled through his work, it was a few hours later that he noticed its slight cerulean glimmer.  A reply from her in glowing text was now below his sent message.

Evie: [Good morning - I hope your day is stellar! :D ]

Ah, a wish for him to make grand achievements throughout his day.  He would expect no less of the one he courted than to have the highest of expectations!  She would then be pleased to know that he had already accomplished much this morning. His lips curled into a smirk as he carefully formulated his words.

Dear, Fox.

Too informal.  Yet he could not be too formal.

[Dear, Evie-] [My day has raced off to a phenomenal start!  Over my morning kaeth alone, I have finalized nearly two dozen contracts, and I expect to close on thrice or more before the day’s end in preparation for conquest.] [I have a number of meetings scheduled with my generals today.  I shall begin my march on Zariel’s forces within the tenday.]

Sincerely.

Regards.

Cordially.

Too cold.  Not intimate enough.  He was addressing his intended not some common petitioner or mark - though he supposed she was a mark of a different sort…

Ah!

[Yours,] [R]

Her next response lit the tablet faster than he could return his mind to his work.

Evie: [Nice - good job!] [That’s exciting!!] [So close already!!  Y’all have got this!]

Delighted by her enthusiastic approval and encouragement, his pride swelled powerfully within him.  He would hear her sing his praises to him and before all once he imminently became Archdevil of the First!

[Dear, Evie-] [Your encouragement vitalizes me!  Soon, I expect I shall have much more to report.] [Until then, I look forward to our impending time together.  I have a few surprises in store for you.] [Yours,] [R]

Evie: [Uh-oh, surprises?  I shall anxiously await!] [And you don’t need to be so formal over text] [+ you’re gonna hit my current character and storage limits sooo fast lol] [I know it’s you, silly ;) ]

The rapid responses did lend to a more casual flow of conversation. Rather than letters, it was akin to the passing of notes.  He would format his own to reflect hers.  With that in mind, he fired off his next, desiring clarification.

Raphael: [Explain :D and ;) ]

Evie: [A grin and winky smile] [ :) ] [ :P ] [ ;) ] [They're smilies!] [and lol = laugh out loud]

He understood - it was maddeningly obvious in retrospect.  She was including mimicries of faces, expressions.  To aid in conveying tone?  Thus, she was flirting within her last message and wanted to ensure that he recognised it as such!

His eyes scanned the available letters and symbols to craft one of these tiny symbol faces of his own.

Raphael: [ ];) ]

[wander-over-the-words]

BioFluff Week 2023 Fic #1

Title: La Familia Sinclair.

Prompt: Photos/Memories

Summary: The one where Eleanor looks through Sinclair’s family photo album.

Characters: Augustus Sinclair, Subject Delta, Eleanor Lamb; mentions of Sofia Lamb, Grace Holloway, Stanley Poole, Gilbert Alexander, Little Sisters, Big Daddies.

Pairing: Some Augustus Sinclair/Subject Delta, but mostly just Eleanor and Sinclair family fluff.

Warnings: mentions of deaths of family members, child neglect, child abuse via corporal punishment, murder.

Notes: First submission for a new BioFluff Week! Here’s the response to the prompt ‘Photos’! Shit ton of Sinclair headcanons in this one, alongside some progression of Sinclair and Eleanor’s familial relationship.

Side note: This works as a sequel to my seventh prompt from last year, It’s Not All Sunshine and Rainbows, but it’s not a necessity to read that first; would just help to explain a couple things, and the events of that fic are mentioned in this one.

All material belongs to Irrational Games.

Fic also available on AO3.

…

“Pretty sure I left the waterin’ can inside, sugar,” Sinclair calls to Delta as he steps up onto the porch in his back garden, pulling the soil-stained gardening gloves from his hands and leaving Delta standing by his freshly-planted rose bushes. “Be a lamb an’ wait here - I’ll go fetch it.”

Delta gives him a thumbs up as Sinclair tosses the gloves onto the ground by his foot, then turns and makes his way into the house, not bothering to fix his sleeves from where they’ve been rolled up to his elbows as he places his hands on his hips and ponders what he did with that darn watering can.

He retraces his steps back into the foyer of his lavish home, lifting a hand to his chin to tap at it with one finger.

This morning, at breakfast, he and Delta had been chatting about planting those roses Delta had wanted for the back garden, so Sinclair and Eleanor had gone into town to buy them from that gardening shop they’d gone to for the top soil (which had taken far longer than it’d needed to because he hadn’t had the heart to tell Eleanor to stop asking the employees more questions about plants and the sun and bees and rain and so on and so forth). When they’d brought the flowers home, Delta had taken them out back to start planting right away, and Sinclair had grabbed the watering can from where his gardener had left it in the basement prior to Sinclair’s ‘disappearance’. He’d filled it up at the kitchen sink, and then there’d been a knock at the door.

Door-to-door salesman, something he definitely hadn’t missed when he’d lived in Rapture. With expert charisma, Sinclair had cut the salespitch short and shooed the guy away from his property; when Eleanor had tried to say he’d been rude not to at least listen to what the man had to say, Sinclair had delivered to her a very valuable lesson about living on the surface.

“Honey, listen,” he’d said, pointing toward the doorway. “As someone who worked that job back in his days as a young entrepreneur, let me go ahead and tell you the truth: it’s a scam. They’re alllll scams. The aim of the game, sweet pea, is to either charm the homeowner into buyin’ or annoyin’ ‘em so much that they might as well be fish purchasin’ water - anythin’ to get you off their doorstep. And whether they wanted that product or not, it’ll either break or - well, they’ll never see it in the first place. Their money’s gone, and all they gots left is a hunk of junk. The only sellers goin’ door-to-door that you should ever say more’n two words to are the Girl Scouts when they come by sellin’ their cookies. When they come ta town, everybody wins.

“As for the sellers: they do the same thing, every day, with never a hitch in their schedules, and people get wise to their schemes. Eventually, either the boredom will get to ‘em, or the guilt will. Trust me, honey,” he’d held up his hands, flicking one dismissively toward the door, “that job is nothin’ but a soul-sucker, on both sides of the coin.”

After a moment, he’d smirked, shrugged a shoulder, then smugly adjusted his tie as he added, “But admittedly, it was how I made my first hundred.”

And then he’d gone to the back garden, to join Delta and help him to plant those roses - so that means that, unless it grew legs and ran away, the watering can is on the kitchen counter, next to the sink.

With a nod, Sinclair spins on his heel to start making his way to the kitchen, only to jump as he immediately sees Eleanor sitting on one of the sofas in the living room, quiet as a mouse. 

Eleanor apparently hasn’t noticed him either, seated with her feet on the cushions and her knees pulled up; the only reason they aren’t touching her chest is because she has a large book open and propped against her legs. It’s got her full attention.

Starting the walk to the kitchen, Sinclair is about to leave her be when he does a double take at which book she’s holding, with its short-but-wide stature and its thick, brown leather cover with the gold-coloured plating on the corners and matching cursive on the front. He thought it’d just been one of the many books he’d treated her to when they were setting her up in one of the bedrooms upstairs, but now that he takes a second look at it…

“Hold on a moment - have you got my photo album?” he asks.

Eleanor flinches, then looks over at him. Her brow furrows and her shoulders hunch a little, concerned.

“I was only having a look, I swear,” she says.

Lifting a hand in the beginnings of a comforting gesture, Sinclair opens his mouth to reply, falters as something occurs to him, then he frowns disapprovingly and puts his hands on his hips instead.

“Well, I was about ta wax poetic about how you ain’t in trouble for lookin’,” he says, “but it occurs to me that the last I saw of that album, I was puttin’ it away - in my safe.”

Eleanor shrinks back guiltily.

While Sinclair’s office is open for anybody to look at (nothing of interest in there anymore anyways, until he gets his law firm up and running again), his safe is most certainly not. He’d cracked it open soon after returning to the house after so many years, having no problem remembering the code considering it was the number of letters for each of his names (eight-seven-eight-five). Inside had been his most important documents - such as his birth certificate and the deed to his house - but alongside those had been more personal items, like his mother’s handwritten recipes (that he has, of course, memorised), the pocket watch his grandfather had promised him when he’d been small, and that photo album Eleanor’s got in her hands - pretty much the only items that he’d had with him that weren’t clothing or cash when he’d moved away from Panama, the same ones he’d guarded with his life before he’d had a secure place to put them.

When they’d been cleaning the house, Sinclair had popped open the safe to give the inside a polish, just to ensure his belongings would remain pristine, and Eleanor and Delta had caught sight of the book. They’d been too excited for him to have the heart to deny them a peek, and so they’d all ended up flicking through it together. Delta and Eleanor reacted with pure fascination at the pictures of Sinclair’s family members, gotten a good few giggles in at the snapshots of him as a little boy, and Delta had fussed over his baby pictures in particular, making hand gestures to communicate how tiny and adorable Augustus used to be and letting out long croons that - with a more human voice - would’ve been coos.

When they’d finished their trip down memory lane, Sinclair had put the book back in the safe - and he’s certain that he’d locked it back up.

Bristling, he marches over to stand in front of her, reaching for the book with both hands, shutting it, and then passing it to his right hand to brandish it in the air.

“Now, it was one thing ta be sneakin’ around and keepin’ secrets ‘tween you and your daddy - that, I didn’t mind so much,” Sinclair goes on, “but if you’re really gonna be upgradin’ that ta stealin’ from me - especially somethin’ I hold near an’ dear - then we might hafta have a talk (with everybody present) about how you treat the fella lettin’ you live under his roof.”

Eleanor looks a lot more guilty now.

“I’m so sorry,” she says quietly. “You’re right: I shouldn’t have taken it without your permission.”

“Well, no, you shouldn’t have.”

She peeks up at him from beneath her hair.

“I recognise I have no right to ask this of you, but please, don’t tell Father.”

He gets it, he does: she’s spent a lifetime sneaking around her mother - and even Auntie Grace and Uncle Stanley - and such habits are hard to kick. 

Since arriving at this house, Sinclair’s caught her multiple times, nosing through his things like she was looking for something damning. He’s walked into a room before only to interrupt a hushed conversation with Delta, and she would turn and look at him like she’ll get in trouble just for chatting with her dad, and he’s previously come downstairs in the night to find her sneaking around his kitchen, taking something from the fridge or grabbing a glass of water or juice, and when she’d noticed him, she’d gotten defensive, as though ready to fight back against some punishment. 

He doesn’t think she’s intentionally implying he’s anything like Lamb, though it was tricky not to feel like a third wheel in those early days, and he does approach the situation with understanding. She spent years imprisoned, having to ask for things and stealing when she couldn’t get permission, it’s simply taking some time for her to get comfortable in her new life. When she decided she wanted his photo album, she’d elected to take it while he wasn’t looking, just as she would if she were still locked up in Persephone, with Lamb. 

He understands, but that doesn’t mean he appreciates it.

He can see that she feels bad, however, and he knows that she’s trying to get over bad habits, so some of the tension leaves his shoulders. 

Really, of all the things she could’ve taken from his safe, his album is the option that makes him the least angry, if only by a fraction - if she’d taken his grandfather’s watch or his mother’s recipes, then she’d be in big trouble.

“Hm. Well.” He looks her up and down, then lowers the book. “Maybe we won’t hafta let your daddy know of my grievances, or your behaviour.” He wiggles the book to gesture to it. “What were you lookin’ at it for, anyway?”

Eleanor averts her eyes.

“I…I only wanted to have another look. That’s all,” she says, and Sinclair can tell that’s not the whole truth.

Sinclair gives a hum.

“That so,” he says rather than asks. “You find my past just that fascinatin’, do ya?”

“Is that…so unbelievable?” Eleanor asks, still not looking at him.

Sinclair doesn’t reply, just lifts his eyebrows up high and stares at her hard, cocking his head slowly to project just how much he doesn’t believe her. His free hand holds his hip, while the album is pressed against the other hip, in lieu of having his hand hold it as well. If she’s going to be stealing his belongings, he has a right to know what she wants with them, he feels.

When he doesn’t speak, Eleanor lifts her gaze to look at him, sees the expression on his face, then bunches up her shoulders even more and averts her eyes again. She’s the picture of a nervous teenager, despite how well she apparently thinks she’s keeping up the nonchalant act, but there is some familiarity in the way that she looks as though she’s trying to hide behind her own shoulders - her father does the same thing.

There’s silence between them for a few moments, Eleanor glances at him again and drops her gaze when she sees he’s still staring, then her brow furrows even more and she speaks.

“...When we were in town last,” Eleanor says, “getting Father’s roses for him…I overheard a conversation, on our way back from the shops. There were some people around the same age as myself, and they were…discussing things that their grandparents had told them. It just…made me realise that I…I can’t relate to that. I don’t have any grandparents to speak of. And any time I brought up such topics with Mother, she would find them ridiculous, so…I’m sorry for being so secretive.”

Hands falling from his hips at last, the rest of the tension leaves Sinclair’s body language, surprised at such a personal response. He almost feels a little guilty for getting upset with her like that, however justified he is. 

For a moment, he doesn’t really know what to say, then he shrugs a shoulder.

“Well,” he says hesitantly. “Well, that all depends on…whether your momma’s momma an’ papa are still around. Might be that we could do some diggin’ into Lamb’s family history, be able to scoop up a lead.”

Eleanor hums in reply, but her frown deepens. 

“I suppose…yes,” she says quietly, which isn’t the response Sinclair anticipated; for whatever reason, she doesn’t seem quite content with that option. 

Sinclair opens his mouth to make another point, then closes it, hesitating. 

He doesn’t know if he should mention Delta’s family because…well, it’s an unspoken topic between them all, but upon thinking about it, it’s very easy to work out that it’s nearly impossible for Eleanor to be Delta’s biological child. By the time ‘Johnny Topside’ had arrived in Rapture, Eleanor was already born, so unless Lamb went to extreme lengths to acquire the, ah, genetic material she needed from a man or somehow knew ‘Topside’ beforehand and already had it in her possession (Sinclair winces at the notion that she could have just, what, had it in her suitcase when she came to Rapture?), Eleanor can’t be his. 

(Besides, Gil and the other folks who made Delta what he is would have had to have been supremely fucking lucky to have paired Eleanor with her real father, if that had been the case, and nobody in Rapture was that lucky.)

Then again, he knows it doesn’t matter in the long run because Eleanor will never see any man but Delta as her father, blood-related or not, and Delta feels much the same. Truthfully, he doesn’t want to be the one to breach that topic with her, but if there’s a chance it could make her feel better…

He steps lightly: giving another shrug of the shoulder, he adds, “There might…also be a chance of us, ah…findin’ somethin’ out about your daddy. Maybe find whoever raised him into the gentleman we know so well.”

It seems to work: Eleanor’s lips lift up in a hopeful little smile and she nods.

“That does sound lovely,” she says. “And it would be a treat for Father, as well, to get to know his family all over again. I’m sure he’d love that.”

“Course he would,” Sinclair replies with a nod. “We’d just hafta go puttin’ in the hard work ta find out who it was he used to be.”

Eleanor hums again and says no more, so Sinclair rubs the back of his neck and then awkwardly holds out the book as a peace offering.

Eleanor looks up at him, her eyes silently questioning on whether he’s certain, and when he nods, she gratefully takes the album back and flips to the pages she was on before.

Still feeling a little awkward, Sinclair moves over to sit beside her on the couch, on the edge of the cushion, hands on his knees.

“Hm. An’ here I was, thinkin’ you mighta just been scopin’ out ideas fer your own shutterbuggin’,” Sinclair says, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Since arriving on the surface, Eleanor’s taken up photography, brought on by her fascination of the world around her. Sinclair bought her a camera once her interest had become known - since the camera he’d had here at the house was beyond old, she deserved to have the latest thing - and she’d been so thrilled that she’d thrown her arms around him in an excited hug. He’d been so startled, so unused to physical touch beyond what Delta does, that he’d just frozen up, then had cut the hug short with an uncomfortable laugh and shooing hands.

Ever since then, she’s been snapping all over the place. He doesn’t know if she’d gotten any such inspiration from watching her father using the genetic research camera down in Rapture - she doesn’t seem as interested in film as she does photography - but it seems like Delta’s got his own regular junior shutterbug.

Eleanor flashes a smile, then runs a finger over the page she’s got the book on.

“Could you tell me…what your grandparents were like?” she asks after a moment.

Sinclair is briefly caught off guard, thinking they’d moved past the topic, then he cocks his head and stares into space as he thinks.

“Well,” he says, “I don’t recall any of my time with my dear ol’ nana - she went an’ lost her health ta sickness and left us before I ever set my feet on the ground. I was told ‘bout her by my granddaddy, though, an’ he always said she was a…nice lady, if just a bit fiery with her temper.” 

He titters, then goes on, “My granddaddy was a modest fella. He was stern, but he was fair, too. But most of all, he just enjoyed bein’ a granddaddy, an’ since we lived under his roof, he got ta spend all the time in the world gettin’ to know me - and I him. He had fun tellin’ me stories - both fictional and non - an’ did his best to help teach me right from wrong. He believed in helpin’ his fellow man, however much that message stuck itself in my mind.” 

He looks to Eleanor as he adds, “And if I’m honest, honey: your daddy makes me think of him sometimes, when he’s bein’ especially noble.”

Eleanor smiles gratefully, then turns her attention back to the book.

Sinclair straightens his back and tilts himself to look at the pages she’s got the book flipped to, and just as it was when he first saw those pictures upon returning to Georgia, his heart feels heavier when he sees his late family members. Upon first glance at one of the pictures, he locks eyes with his mother.

These photos are from before Sinclair’s birth, so she looks a little younger than he remembers her, but still just as beautiful, with her brown skin and her wavy, dark hair that’s long enough to reach her chest, her soft face and kind eyes and loving smiles, and her dresses that he remembers as vibrant and colourful, even with these pictures being in black and white. 

And even without colour in the photos, it’s clear from just a glance that Augustus got his hair and eyes from her.

Hola, Mama, he thinks with a smile, nostalgic, then his gaze drifts to the older man and woman on either side of her in the picture, taken at some party or event before Sinclair’s birth. Hola, Abuelo y Abuela.

And then his eyes find a photograph on the next page, of his parents on a date, embracing with happy, youthful grins on their faces, and he looks the younger image of his father in his eyes as his own face falls.

Papa, he regards him calmly and says no more than that.

His focus is broken when Eleanor starts flipping pages, startling him and making him look to her, surprised.

Most pictures of his grandparents are in the section of the album from before his birth, since his nana died so soon afterwards; he would’ve thought Eleanor would’ve wanted to look at those, to see the two of them together.

But no - Eleanor’s still flipping over several pages, skipping the time before Sinclair’s life had started and all of his baby pictures (and God knows, Mama and Abuelo made sure to take plenty), until she stops upon a page with a soft hum of amusement, then turns the pages much slower now, actually taking in what she’s seeing.

Sinclair sits back on the couch and picks up his glasses from where they’re dangling off his neck, putting them on to see better what she’s looking at.

Snapshots of his childhood, from age three, according to the writings on the slips of paper under each image. His mother and grandfather were dedicated to capturing practically every minute of his early years, being his biggest fans and all - and of course, for every image of him being the sole figure, there’s a picture of him with either or both of them. Not hard to capture, either - he’d spent all of his time together with them - but Abuelo was especially generous in letting his daughter be in the most photos with his grandson. Seemed to be more excited taking the pictures than being in them; Sinclair almost wishes there were more of he and his grandfather together.

Sinclair skims the photos whenever Eleanor stops on a page, looking at his child self: a poor but tidy little kid, young enough that his dark hair was still a little fluffy, even when combed as neatly as Mama could get it. He’s dressed in baggy, long-sleeved shirts and equally baggy trousers, in tiny little suits whenever they went to church, and he’s smiling and laughing in all of these pictures, with baby fat still in his cheeks and already getting round around the waist, a neat foreshadowing to his present day figure. 

His brow furrows slightly at the earlier pictures of he and his mother, stopping at one where she’s crouching down to his height and hugging him tightly, captured amidst blowing a raspberry against his cheek, and Augustus’s past self is frozen mid-laughter, little hands holding the fabric of his mama’s bright dress. 

All of his memories of his mother are like that, with her making him laugh and smile, and her smiling and laughing in return - because that was the kind of mother she was. He’d been mostly oblivious to familial situations - their lack of money, what was going on behind the scenes with his father - when he’d been young because his mother always made sure to shield him from the harsh realities, to block his view with her smile and her warm hugs and kisses and her baking. From the second she knew about him, Augustus was the light of her life, and she made sure he knew that.

He still thinks it’d been the worst day of his life, when she’d died. 

Her baking is in the pictures too: there’s a photo of one of her pies on the current page, and then the picture next to it is little Augustus sitting in his mother’s lap with a plate resting atop his knees. A slice of the aforementioned pie sits upon the plate, a couple of bites taken from it, and Augustus is holding up a spoon toward his mother, offering the little wedge of pie on top to her. Judging by how she’s leaning in with her smile open and a proud, grateful look in her eyes, she’s accepted his offer.

To this day, he’s still never tasted a pie better than the ones his mama made, or even just as good. Not even when he’d tried to replicate them himself.

“Your mother…She seemed lovely,” Eleanor says quietly, reaching out and touching the picture with a finger delicately, careful not to smudge it. 

“She was,” Sinclair says wistfully. “Nicest lady you’d ever meet, no matter where you’d go.” 

“And she baked so often.” Eleanor observes, turning pages over in one group, then using her thumb to flick through those to prove how many pictures feature his mother’s food. “This first lot of pages are full of pictures of…pies and cakes and such.”

Sinclair gives a fond grin. “Yeah, that was her hobby. She liked stitchin’ together clothin’ for us too, but there was just that spark in her eyes and a spring in her step when it came to the kitchen. She loved it. Mostly cause she liked havin’ people stuffin’ themselves full of her food, made that spring in her step extra high ta see folks enjoyin’ the fruits of her labour, and I always got the first piece of whatever she made,” he prods himself in the chest with a finger, “cause what I thought was more important to her than anythin’, as her baby.”

He cocks his head and gives his tummy a pat as he adds, “Which, come ta think of it, was probably where I adopted my taste for the sweeter things in life…”

Glancing at him, Eleanor gives him a smile, then looks back to the photographs to turn the page. 

More pictures of he and his grandfather and his mother together; Sinclair sees Eleanor’s attention go to the snapshot of he and his mother’s old tradition of dancing around the kitchen, little Augustus balanced on her feet. More grins and frozen laughter, more of the adoration in their eyes; the norm, for the two of them. Only person who’s ever gotten him to dance, too - well, until recently, since Delta did the impossible and got him to slow dance to some of his old records after Eleanor had gone to bed.

Seems poetic that way, considering he’s never loved anybody as much as he loved his mama until Delta came along, even if the types of love are different. Makes him a little sad to know she’ll never meet the fella that turned his life around, despite the knowledge that Mama probably wouldn’t look upon their relationship with ease. She was a woman of God, after all, and here her precious baby boy is, in love with another man, never mind Delta’s current appearance.

He wants to believe she could’ve gotten over it, though, if only after knowing how much Delta’s influence has changed him - because he also isn’t oblivious to the fact that if she had seen him to his adult years, she would be absolutely ashamed of him, as would Abuelo. Even without the events down in Rapture; the scamming, the lying, the lack of empathy for his clients - they would’ve disowned him, and he would have to beg them for forgiveness.

(Then again, if his mama had lived to see him as an adult, he wouldn’t be the man he is today because when Mama said “No”, he listened. She adored him, yes, but she knew when to put her foot down. She would’ve taught him right from wrong far better than Papa ever did - or didn’t, as it were.)

Doesn’t do him well to think about falling out with either of them, so Sinclair looks down at the pictures of them together and focuses on them instead.

There’s a photo of himself sitting on a stool with an arepa con queso, munching on it as he watches Abuelo putting up shelves in one of the rooms of their house; the picture’s snapped his grandfather smiling down at him amidst reaching up to hold one of the pieces in place before he nails it to the wall. He remembers Abuelo saying Augustus could help him, which basically amounted to being allowed to tell him to work harder while he sat on a stool and ate the snacks Mama brought for them, though he does remember Abuelo letting him choose what colour to paint the shelves and lifting him up on his shoulders to test them with one of his toys. See if Abuelo’s work got the Augustus Approval.

Underneath that, there’s a picture of his mama sitting in a chair in their living room, with his little self dressed in his pyjamas (he remembers they were powder blue) and pulled into her lap, his head against her heart as he slumbers. She’s smiling down at him warmly, and Augustus knows this is one of those times where she’d sung and rocked him to sleep. Probably comforting him; he used to be scared of the dark as a kid, and he recalls how he used to go scrambling out of bed at the slightest bump in the night, yelling for her, and then hiding his face in her shoulder when she inevitably came running and scooped him up into her arms.

“...She seemed to adore you,” Eleanor says quietly; when Sinclair looks over at her, he sees she’s looking at the same picture as he is.

“She did,” he replies, “and I her. See, she was a lot like my granddaddy, an’ not just cause both of ‘em had the same blood runnin’ through their veins: she was happy to be a momma, despite everythin’ that preceded and proceeded my birth.”

Eleanor stares silently, thoughtfully, then she hums with a small pout and hastily turns more pages. 

Sinclair is perplexed by her behaviour, but leaves his questions in his head as he looks at the book, watching her flip through pages just slow enough that he can see the pictures (and there’s a cold stinging sensation in his blood when he sees the photos containing his grandfather come to a sudden end) until she stops on a seemingly random page.

On the rightmost page, there’s one, large photograph taking up the space. His mother is holding him in her arms, he’s bigger than he was in the previous pictures, and both of them are grinning at the camera - but the photo is one of the rare ones where his father is in it too.

He’s standing on the other side of Augustus, glass of something (probably booze, Sinclair thinks) in his hand. His father was a white man, tall and somewhat imposing (or maybe he just seemed that way, in Sinclair’s youth), with a head of black hair, clipped short compared to the mess it was in the photo from earlier, and a bushy moustache on his lip that had long convinced Sinclair not to grow his own facial hair out. Dressed in a suit that’s a little on the shabby side, a little ill-fitting, and he’s nowhere near as friendly-looking as Sinclair’s mother. 

He’s looking at the camera, but he isn’t looking at it like his son and wife are, and instead of grinning, his expression is stony.

They’re in the living room, surrounded by balloons and a few wrapped presents, and on the table in front of them is a cake covered in white icing and topped with a ring of strawberry chunks. The banner above their heads proclaims Feliz cumpleaños!.

Eleanor points at it. “What does this translate to?”

“Happy birthday,” Augustus replies. “That looks to be my…” he trails off as he tilts himself to check the Spanish writing beneath the photograph, “...seventh birthday.”

Eleanor nods, then frowns confusedly.

“Your father isn’t smiling. Why isn’t he smiling?” she asks. “If it’s your birthday, then…he should be happy?”

Sinclair scoffs out a sarcastic laugh.

“He should be, shouldn’t he?” he says with fake amusement, then shakes his head. “He ain’t smilin’, honey, cause he doesn’t feel like it.”

Eleanor’s frown only tightens.

“But why wouldn’t he feel like it? Your joy should bring joy to him - you’re his child.”

“Mm-hm,” Sinclair replies, crossing one leg over the other’s knee to rest there. “Precisely.”

Eleanor turns her head to look at him then.

“I don’t…understand.”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Sinclair sighs through his nose, thinks about how to word this, then taps his own knee casually and settles on what to say.

“Sweetheart,” he says, turning his head to look at Eleanor again, “I recognise that you hit the jackpot when it came ta fathers, but some of us other folk ain’t as lucky. Yours is more than happy to be your daddy, while mine rued the day he was told he was gonna be one - unlike my momma, who was fond o’ me the second she learned about the bun bakin’ in her belly. My daddy didn’t go into romancin’ my momma with the idea of settlin’ down, you see, and so when I came around, he decided ta let me know just how much he resented me bein’ in his space.”

He shakes his head, then looks her in the eye.

“What I’m sayin’, sweet pea, is that he didn’t want me - and he made sure I knew that.”

Eleanor’s eyes widen at him, then she turns to point her eyes down at the photo album again, staring at it without really staring at it. He can see her turning this over in her head; she looks distressed.

After all, her experience with fatherhood is much different, going from not having one to having one forced on her, but bonding with him all the same and loving him by choice. She acknowledged back in Persephone that Delta might’ve not wanted a daughter, might’ve not wanted her, but that she loved him anyway, and once they’d all had a chance to breathe after the lifeboat had burst out of the water, Delta had assured her the best he could that she was his girl, despite having been brought together by strangers in lab coats rather than blood or prior interaction.

By all accounts, Sinclair would say Delta’s a fantastic father, even without the whole plot of tearing through a hellhole of a city to get back to his girl. He encourages Eleanor’s interests, protects and comforts her when she’s frightened by something no matter how small, worries for her and won’t hesitate to tell her off if she pushes the limits (coming from him, it’s a growl and a wag of the finger, but it does the job just fine) - and of course, he’s as much a great, big cuddlebug to her as he is to Sinclair, so there’re hugs a-plenty.

Like Sinclair had said, she’s lucky to have a good father, someone who adores her and shows it in everything he does; Delta has made peace with the concept of Eleanor being his daughter - first when he was brainwashed and just as easily after he was cured - and he loves it.

Sinclair’s father, on the other hand, never got that far with him. To Sinclair’s mother and grandfather, he was a gift from God. To Sinclair’s father, he was a nuisance that ruined his father’s life.

There’s silence between them as Augustus lets Eleanor think on this, then her eyes widen.

“Made sure you knew it…” she mutters thoughtfully, then looks to him in rising worry. “Does that mean…?! Are…Are you implying that he harmed you?”

Ah.

Sinclair opens his mouth, closes it, then says, “Uh, well, now - see, he showed it in lots o’ ways, honey, like never feedin’ me or changin’ me when I was fresh out the oven, never came runnin’ when he heard me cryin’, never read to me or played with me, certainly wasn’t interested in talkin’ with me - come to think of it, I ain’t sure we ever had a proper conversation ‘til my momma -”

“Augustus,” Eleanor cuts in, turning some in her seat to look at him, still with elevating concern on her face, “did your father harm you?”

Sinclair falters, unsure of what to say.

He hadn’t meant to imply that in the first place, and he clearly hasn’t done well to sway her from the topic - she’s an observant girl and she’s onto him - but to be honest, he’s surprised to see her getting so suddenly worked up over this. He agrees, the notion is horrible, but…?

Sinclair hesitates, tries to think of how to delicately word this when he knows she’ll find it upsetting, then looks her in the face.

“...A handful o’ times,” he says, watching her worry turn into horror. “It was his idea of teachin’ me discipline.”

“Discipline? How is that discipline?! How could he possibly -” She cuts herself off to ask, “What - What would he even do to you?”

Sinclair can only sigh.

He supposes if he isn’t honest on the topic, as much as he doesn’t want to upset her, then her mind will conjure things up, and she’ll be under some wrong impression and theorise worse things than what really happened.

He hangs his head for a moment, hesitating, then lifts it to look at her as he says, “For the littler things - like botherin’ him when he was tryin’ to relax or speakin’ outta term - he would jus’ smack me upside the head (or - wherever he could reach at the time), just to let me know I was startin’ to cross a line there. And if I crossed that line, he would, ah…take a belt to the backs of my hands. Hit ‘em until they were sore all over, maybe even…left behind some marks.” He clears his throat. “An’ God forbid he heard me speakin’ in an ungentlemanly way - in that case, he would haul me over to the sink, push my head in the water an’ take a bar of soap to my mouth.” 

He clicks his tongue distastefully as he mutters to himself, “Can still taste it sometimes,” before he remembers who he is in the presence of; he looks to her with wide eyes before hastily adding, “But that was all when I was bad, of course, and - Lord knows, I gave my teachers hell sometimes, but my daddy didn’t see it fit to do this sorta stuff on the regular.” 

“So he only did it sometimes?” Eleanor nearly snaps, shooting down his attempt at making the situation just a little better, then scoffs in disgust and mutters bitterly, “That doesn’t make it right.”

“Trust me, honey, I ain’t sayin’ it was my preferred method when it came ta parentin’ (‘specially since I was the child in that scenario), just that my daddy didn’t fetch his belt over every little thing.”

She looks away to stare into space, scowling now, then looks back at him.

“Is…that why you refuse to use bad language? Because of what that man did to you?”

“Hm. No. I don’t like swearin’,” he says curtly, “because there’re a million words out there - treasure trove of language - and anybody who resorts ta cursin’ just to make their point heard is a person who ain’t mastered the art of speakin’ - either that, or their momma didn’t raise ‘em right. My preferences have got nothin’ ta do with my daddy. Fact is, the only reason I’ve ever cursed in my life was cause I was nearly your age and feelin’ rebellious.”

He looks to her. “And you’d surely know a thing or two about rebellin’, now, wouldn’t you?”

That was supposed to make her smile, but she’s too caught up with this new information to really take part in the amusement, still scowling.

“You were a teenager…Hardly younger than me…” she says thoughtfully, then asks, “What about when you were little? Did he harm you then?”

Sinclair hesitates - he really shouldn’t be talking about this sort of thing when he knows it’s upsetting her so much, but then he knows she’s not going to drop it if he doesn’t answer, or she’ll get the wrong idea and think he was black and blue his entire childhood - and holds up a finger.

“He only did it the once. Just the one time. I…don’t recall what it was I did that set ‘im off, but…he grabbed me by my arm, held me in place so’s that he could put a beat down on me. I cried loud enough that my momma came runnin’ and, well…” 

He arches an eyebrow at her.

“You remember how your daddy would rip people apart for puttin’ their hands on you?”

Eleanor nods.

“Well, my momma didn’t have the strength for that, nor did she have a man-sized drill or an array of guns, but she put up the same kinda fight that your daddy did. I wasn’t audience to the whole thing, o’ course, since my granddaddy got me outta there in a second, but my daddy never tried ta lay a hand on me again, for as long as my momma lived.” 

He gives a huff of a chuckle. “Ta be honest, that’s why I never understood why they elected ta make Big Daddies. People in charge o’ that project had obviously never heard nor seen a momma bear in action.” 

Eleanor’s expression lets up just a little, momentarily comforted by the fact that Augustus didn’t suffer for his entire childhood, but then her scowl returns.

“That’s revolting,” she says angrily. “What a vile way to treat one’s child.”

Sinclair shrugs a shoulder. “That’s just how things were back in my day, honey. Was the regular to discipline yer children with a bit o’ pain - though, most folks favoured the traditional method of spanking. In some folks’s eyes, I was spoiled for not gettin’ disciplined ‘properly’. I certainly wasn’t the only child gettin’ smacked in the world, and I was most certainly not the last. Hell - I think you’ll find, sweetie pie, that some folks continue my daddy’s practises, both up here and in Rapture.”

“The last person I ever saw harming a child was soon ripped apart by a man just like Father,” Eleanor says bitterly, to which Sinclair gives an admitting shrug. “And anybody who would follow their example simply doesn’t deserve to have children.”

Sinclair gives a humourless chuckle, then rubs Eleanor’s shoulder comfortingly.

He says, “But don’t let yerself get worked up and upset about it. Nobody’s laid a hand on me in years - well, nobody but Splicers - and you can take some comfort in the fact that your daddy would never lay a finger on you.”

He takes his hand from her shoulder and, when he sees that Eleanor is still cross, he leans in and nudges her with his elbow.

“Strictly speakin’, you can also take some comfort, I suppose,” he says, “in the fact that my papa’s been dead an’ buried since before I could begin the path that he trod: with a bottle. Now,” he rubs his chin, “my granddaddy always said we should never celebrate the death of our fellow man, but, well, he ain’t here an’...you never met ‘im, so I reckon that entitles you ta feel however you’d like to feel - if you’re wantin’ to talk loopholes.”

Eleanor looks at him. “Is that the way you felt, when he finally passed away? Did you feel…relieved? Did you celebrate?”

Sinclair raises his eyebrows and looks her in the eye, fixing her with a serious look.

“Now, would you celebrate if you heard of your momma passin’ away?” he asks.

Eleanor’s face falls guiltily, clearly understanding that she’d gotten the wrong end of the stick, and shakes her head.

(They have no idea where Lamb is nowadays; she’d disappeared during the first night they were all on the surface, whilst they’d been asleep. Only Delta saw her go, but he’d communicated that she hadn’t said a word to him before leaving; they’d just shared a look, then she walked out the door and never looked back. For all intents and purposes, Sinclair considers that her officially surrendering custody of Eleanor to Delta - and himself, now. He’d offered to go look for her when they’d realised she was gone, but Eleanor had declined; she’d clearly been sad that her mother would just leave like that, but she made no effort to look for her or ask around for her, and she still hasn’t in all the time they’ve been in Georgia. Now, the topic of her mother is rarely brought up; he understands that Eleanor’s feelings toward her are…complicated, and Sinclair’s own feelings towards her are better left unsaid, for Eleanor’s sake.)

“Honey,” Sinclair goes on, “I understand how things sound from your point of view - but I was there, and I know how things really were between he and I. Sure, we were nothin’ like you and your daddy - Lord knows, we were somethin’ more like you an’ your momma - but the whole situation was…more complicated than it may have first seemed. Things weren’t all bad, and he did step up (if even a little) once my momma couldn’t take care of me anymore.

“And at the end of the day, sweetheart,” he says, nudging her with his elbow again, “he was still my daddy. An’ not only that, but he was also the only person I had left in the world, so…you gotta understand where I’m comin’ from. Got it?”

(He also doesn’t mention to her that he was the person to find his father’s body; this chat’s been serious enough already, she doesn’t need to hear about that.)

“...Yes. I understand,” Eleanor says with a nod, then chews her lip before adding, “I’m just…sorry. That you had to grow up in an environment like that.”

“D’aw, now,” Sinclair mutters, waving a hand dismissively. “Thank you for the kind words, sweet pea, but I’m just fine. Reckon I turned out,” he falters, then says, “at least a little on the good side of the line.”

Eleanor gives him a small smile, then replicates his elbow nudge.

“I think you turned out far more than a little on the good side of the line.”

Slightly taken aback, Sinclair gives her a smile.

They both look back to the book as Eleanor goes back to turning pages, going over Sinclair’s later childhood.

A muted sadness settles in Sinclair’s heart as he sees the photo of his ninth birthday, another one of himself and his mama and papa; when Eleanor turns the page, the first picture is of him, just him, smiling shyly at the camera, and then the next is his tenth birthday, and that photograph only contains himself and his father, standing side-by-side beneath the same banner from before. The writing beneath these photos is untidy and clearly a child’s handwriting.

And then the next picture is his eleventh birthday. Then his twelfth. Then his thirteenth. His fourteenth. Fifteenth. Sixteenth. Seventeenth. And then his eighteenth, where he is the lone figure, with his birthday cake.

And then Eleanor turns the page, and there’s a picture of Sinclair in a suit with a stripey blazer, white slacks and a Panama hat atop his head. Beneath it is an outdated dollar bill.

“Ah - there, ya see.” Sinclair leans over to point. “That there’s me back when I was goin’ door-to-door. If I recall rightly, I asked a fella on the street ta take my picture for me. An’ that there’s,” he points again, “my hundredth dollar.”

“You kept the dollar?” Eleanor asks incredulously, grinning in amusement.

“Course I did - it was my hundredth dollar, earned all by myself. Before that, the only money I had was left behind from my parents an’ my grandparents before ‘em, alongside the odd bit o’ change I got from trickin’ my fellow students back at school. But that dollar? I got that all by myself, through hard work. Believe I had a right ta be proud of that.”

“Didn’t you just earlier tell me that that job is just one, big scam and a ‘soul-sucker’?” Eleanor asks, turning her head to look at him and raising her eyebrow.

Sinclair stammers for a moment, then says, “Well, it was, it’s just - that didn’t seem like such an issue back then, heh.”

Eleanor smiles, amused, and looks to the right-most page: a picture of a slightly older Sinclair in a cap and gown, shaking hands with an older man, with his rolled diploma in his other hand (“Now, there’s me graduatin’ from law school,” Sinclair says to her), and underneath that, a wide shot of the house they currently reside in, with Sinclair standing on the porch, arms out at his sides and a grin just barely visible on his face from this distance.

She turns the page again and again and again, only to find the rest of the album empty. She gives a little frown as she turns the pages back to the collection of birthday photos, the only evidence left of Sinclair’s growth from child to teenager, compared to the vast collection of his earlier years.

(And Sinclair gives a little wince at seeing his teenaged self, now dressing in full suits; sixteen was the age he started experimenting with hair pomade, and Sinclair can only look disapprovingly at the way his younger self has practically plastered his hair to his scalp, rather than genuinely styling it. Gives a small shake of his head and thinks Boy, you had no idea what you were doin’, did you?)

“I suppose your father didn’t have as much interest in recording your ageing as your mother and grandfather did,” she says, somewhat bitterly.

Sinclair gives another admitting shrug.

Her frown deepens, glaring at the image of Sinclair’s father beside him in the pictures, then grabs a handful of pages to turn backwards.

It takes them back to Sinclair’s earlier childhood, his mother and grandfather alive and well again, back to coddling Sinclair’s child self. There’s a photograph of Augustus - about three years old - fast asleep in his grandfather’s lap, with his grandfather lulled to sleep against the head of his armchair, clearly a sneaky shot by Augustus’s mother (and Sinclair can tell it happened amidst story time, since that was generally the reason he’d be sat upon his granddad’s thigh like that). 

Underneath it is his child self as the sole figure, proudly showing the camera a drawing he’s done with crayons; brings back the memory of excitedly showing Mama and Abuelo what he’d drawn and them acting like it was the most beautiful thing they’d ever seen, gushing about how he’ll grow up to be an artist, for sure. Any attempts to show Papa had had him gruffly telling his son “Not now, Augustus,” and walking away.

Nowadays, Sinclair’s decent at drawing, though he’s better at drawing buildings and scenary than people.

On the next page, there’s Sinclair and his mother in the kitchen. The camera is behind them as they work at the counter, with Sinclair’s past self standing on a chair so that he can reach, but they’ve got their heads turned to look at each other, so Eleanor can see the way they’re smiling at each other with utter adoration. 

She smiles at the pictures, but then her face falls into another thoughtful little frown and she once again raises a finger to carefully stroke over the image of Sinclair and his mum.

“I think I like these pictures better,” she says quietly.

“So do I, honey, so do I,” Sinclair replies.

All’s quiet between them, Eleanor even stops turning pages. Her brow is scrunched up more than before as she stares down at the photograph, brushing the bottom right corner with a finger like before. 

Sinclair’s inclined to offer a penny for her thoughts, but she speaks before he can.

“About your mother...Do you…Do you suppose…Do you think she would have…liked me?”

Sinclair’s face falls in his surprise, eyes wide, as a jolt goes through his heart as a sudden understanding dawns on him.

All this obsession with the topic of grandparents, her apparent disinterest in the option of having Lamb’s parents around to be these grandparents she desires, even when they’re her actual biological family (though, he sympathises with not wanting to meet the people responsible for raising a woman like Lamb), and the fact that upon stealing his photo album, she didn’t fuss over the photos of his grandparents, but his parents…

Sinclair’s not oblivious. He’s always known what it would mean to get into a relationship with a man who is also a father: even when he and Eleanor had had their awkward camaraderie, Sinclair would still have to play the role of a…a guardian to her, especially so until Delta gets out of that suit and can (hopefully) show his face in public. Lord knows, it’s obviously not legal for he and Delta to marry (and it’s far too early for that sort of thing, anyway), but with his relationship with her dad being what it is anyway, he would technically be a sort of…step-father to her.

Hell, they’ve already described him as such to the people who have asked: a couple of cops had turned up on their first day in this house, suspicious after it’d been left for twenty-odd years, only for the homeowner - who had ‘mysteriously disappeared’ - to turn up out of the blue. No doubt they knew as well of Sinclair’s old reputation of being the town’s resident bad guy: with a distinct air of distrust toward him, they’d asked Eleanor if she knows ‘this man’. 

The two of them had tried saying they were father and daughter, then hastily ‘corrected’ themselves when it dawned on them how unbelievable that is, considering not only do they have completely different accents, but they look absolutely nothing like each other.

(Sinclair had been inclined to sarcastically tell them to have a look at her real father, see how much like her he doesn’t look. Unfortunately, rather than saying that, he’d had to say he was married to her ‘late’ mother, the thought of which…still makes him feel nauseated.)

But that was for the sake of a lie, for the sake of Sinclair not being accused of anything unsavoury, for the sake of removing any suspicion from the fact that Augustus Sinclair has turned up after twenty-something years of being missing, now accompanied by a random teenager and a strange diving suit statue that had stood at the side of his living room.

(Questioning that last thing had had Sinclair sarcastically asking the coppers if he comes to their homes and insults their interior decorating - and he’d had to quickly distract them when a noise that kind of sounded like a whale laughing came from the statue.)

This right here, what he believes Eleanor to be implying, is…something different.

Sinclair’s never been a family man; even when he was a child, being told he would grow up to find a beautiful wife and have tons of babies, he would baulk at the idea and wonder if that was really his only option. It didn’t change when he was a teenager, where he was more obsessed with money, since he was learning the art of the scam (of course, back in those days, his prizes were measly amounts of pocket money and cigarettes), whilst all of his fellow male classmates were talking about girls - which, obviously, wasn’t his inclination anyway. 

He’d been content living here before, by his lonesome. He’d had staff members, sure, but they didn’t sleep here and certainly didn’t live here, were never invited to. This huge house was his and his alone, and he’d been completely fine with that. No spouse, no children - the way he’d always seen his life going.

And now…there’s Delta, who he never wants to be without again. 

And there’s…Eleanor, who he’s always thought of as a sweet girl, and he’d sympathised with her back in Rapture, but who had never been part of his plan upon getting to the surface. 

He’d said as much, telling Delta about that private island of theirs - and very pointedly not mentioning Eleanor. Whether Delta had picked up on that, he’s not sure; the big guy was just so jazzed about the island and then Sinclair telling him about this house, over in Georgia. Could be he just assumed Sinclair forgot to mention her because - obviously, looking back on it now - Delta was never going to let Sinclair get away with leaving Eleanor behind, and not just because he’d needed her to live.

He’s aware they’ve grown closer over the time in this house - Eleanor had shown her growing fondness for him when she sought his comfort during that tornado last month and was evidently concerned for his safety, she’d shown it just earlier when she’d grown furious on his behalf over his father’s treatment of him, and he’d felt it back during that tornado’s visit, when he’d felt protective over her when she was frightened. The thought was still a little scary, but he’d embraced it and everything had turned out okay. 

All in all, he’s accepted his role as her guardian.

But if Eleanor’s looking to have his parents be her grandparents posthumously, then that means she’s starting to look at him as a…a parent…and that’s a little more scary than the notion that they’re moving past their awkwardness toward each other. He’s spent his entire life being contently childfree, he can’t just change that in the blink of an eye.

And actually now, looking at it, he sees how she might’ve starting getting that impression, what with him buying her things that she’ll like, comforting her when she’s worried or scared, and even scolding her earlier when she’d crossed one of his lines (and, oh, God, that whole ‘stare until the child admits their wrong-doings’ is what his Abuelo used to do, oh, God). The realisation makes him feel…itchy.

Though, honestly? If one had explained this whole thing to him a few months ago, he would’ve laughed himself silly. But now that he’s here, in the moment…well. He isn’t sure about parent and child - Eleanor’s moving at a pace he can’t quite keep up with there - but to recognise Eleanor as…family, at least…

That doesn’t sound…so ridiculous anymore. Being considered a dad makes him blanche still, but family…that’s a start, that’s…comfortable.

(Although - his mind briefly drifts to the notion of her calling him, what? Other Father? Step-Father? The thought makes him sweat, and he genuinely hopes she won’t start calling him that any time soon. ‘Augustus’ is just fine, he thinks.)

Sinclair comes out of his head and focuses back on Eleanor, looking all shy as she tries to hide behind bunched up shoulders again, fiddling with the corner of the page she’s still got the book turned to. 

Here it is again - seeing her like that gives him the urge to make her feel better, and the only way to do that is -

“Ya wanna know what I think, honey?” he says, nudging her with his elbow again. “I think my momma woulda liked you very much.”

In an instant, Eleanor drops her shy demeanour and turns her head to look at him fully, smiling wide with a hopeful look in her big, blue eyes - and the sight of her like that warms his heart.

“Really? Do you mean that?” she asks.

“Mm-hm. See, I’m bettin’ that if I took ya down to meet her, she’d start sayin’ ‘Augustus, why aren’t you feeding this girl?’, and then she’d go ahead and bake you one o’ her trusty old pies and serve you more slices than you can eat. Hell, she’d probably cook you a whole big dinner, with all the foods she used ta make for me, and then she’d probably take you aside and wanna measure you up for a dress or somethin’.”

Eleanor appears positively giddy at the thought, wiggling a little in her seat in excitement, then she asks, “Do you think she would have liked Father, as well?”

Sinclair cocks his head and rubs the back of his neck.

“Well…that’s another one of those complicated situations I was talkin’ about,” he says, then gives her a half-smile, “but…I like ta think she woulda liked him very much as well. Personally, I struggle ta think of anybody who can’t grow ta like your daddy (obvious options aside), and besides, he keeps me from gettin’ into trouble, which she’d be more’n grateful for, I’m sure.”

Eleanor giggles, then looks down at the pictures, chuffed to bits. After a moment, however, she frowns and looks back at him.

“And I’m guessing that your father wouldn’t have been a fan of mine?” she asks.

Sinclair gives a puff of a chuckle. 

“I highly doubt it.”

Eleanor gives a “Hmph,” as she turns her nose up and shuts her eyes before haughtily saying, “Good. I wouldn’t have been a fan of his either. And I can’t imagine what Father would’ve done, had they had the chance to meet.”

Sinclair gives another humourless laugh.

Honestly, he wouldn’t have put it past his father to try to get physical with him even now, at his age; dear old Dad liked to be top dog around the place, enjoyed being the ‘man of the house’, and Augustus would always have been lower than him on the status ladder, in his eyes. 

Brings to mind the notion of his father giving him a smack, only to unleash the beast that is Subject Delta. He can see it in his imagination: Delta suddenly roaring furiously like he had any time a Splicer got too close to Sinclair down in Persephone, throwing aside furniture to get to Sinclair’s dad, and Sinclair having to hurry to get between them before Delta reduced his father to paste on the floor. 

(Though, to be honest, Sinclair’s not giving Delta enough credit there; he has self-control, after all. The criminal being Sinclair’s dad - worst Delta would’ve done was grab him and hoist him up in the air to frighten him. Make it clear that he is to never harm Augustus again, or he really would end up as paste on the floor.)

“Then we’ll say it’s a fortunate turn of events that your daddy will never meet mine,” Sinclair says with a smirk.

Eleanor looks at him, smiling now, then looks back down at the photo album delightedly. 

Sinclair lets her think her thoughts before watching her turn back to the later photos in the book, until she gets to the last photo - and then she flips the page, to the blank spots.

“There’s so much space in here, still,” she says, then looks at him, turning slightly shy again. “Do you suppose we could…put our photographs in here as well?”

Their photos. In a family photo album. Alongside pictures of his parents and his grandparents. 

There’s that feeling again.

He still feels hesitant in the face of this new title, but she’s looking at him all hopeful again, and he already feels sore at the mere thought of telling her no, so…

Sinclair opens his mouth to reply, only to stop and look over Eleanor’s shoulder as there comes the telltale thump-thump-thump of heavy footsteps coming closer, and Eleanor looks over too as Delta steps through the doors to the foyer, looks around, then sees them and gives a soft grunt. He starts making his way over.

“Oh!” Sinclair exclaims, sliding forward in his seat, unsure of whether he should meet Delta halfway. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry! I just went an’ ditched you by your roses, didn’t I?”

Delta shrugs. Doesn’t mind, he just came to make sure everything was okay. All’s forgiven.

He comes walking into the living room, over to Eleanor’s side of the couch, stops behind Eleanor’s shoulder, then tilts at the waist to appear curious, silently asking what’s going on.

“That’s my fault, I’m afraid, Father,” Eleanor says, smiling up at him. “I had him distracted. But look: we were having another look at Augustus’s family photo album.”

Delta gives a thoughtful rumble, then his shoulders perk upwards as he leans over and pokes at the top corner of the book’s cover, indicating that he wants Eleanor to turn to an earlier page.

Eleanor grins with amusement as she immediately knows what he’s referring to.

Sinclair knows what Delta’s referring to as well, judging by the way he shakes his head with a smile full of fake exasperation and says, “Oh, c’mon, now, chief…”

Eleanor turns back the pages in one massive group, all the way to the start of the book; she goes a little too far, to the time before Sinclair’s birth, and flips a couple of pages before finding an example of what Delta wants to see.

On the rightmost page, two large photographs take up the entire space: on the left is Sinclair’s mother, younger and still with pregnancy weight, her arms full with a little baby swaddled in a blanket, fast asleep against her heart. On the right is the same scene, only this time, the camera’s been moved to the side of her and closer for the sake of focusing specifically on the baby, his mother starting to get cropped out of frame. Her smile can still be seen, however, only now it’s less relaxed and proud and more amusedly exasperated - and it looks exactly like the one Sinclair’s currently wearing.

This close, it’s easier to see that the baby is chubby-cheeked and has a smattering of dark hair on their head the same colour as their mama’s, at peace in their mama’s hold. And underneath the photograph - in Sinclair’s grandfather’s handwriting - is Augustus Teodoro Sinclair Ortiz, tiene dos dias.

Delta immediately lets out a happy croon, then holds up a hand, his index finger and thumb pinching a small space between them. He then gestures towards his own covered face and pats his heart.

So small! So cute!

Eleanor giggles and turns the page, revealing a double-page spread of various pictures from Sinclair’s earliest days - Sinclair in his grandfather’s arms, then in his grandmother’s, then Sinclair being fed, then Sinclair being bathed, then Sinclair playing with his mama - which just makes Delta croon more.

Sinclair turns in his seat, leaning his elbow on the top of the couch and fixing Delta with a raised eyebrow and a strained smile. He’s appearing casual, but he’s got a faint blush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“I’m not sure what you want me to say, kid,” he says amusedly. “My family always reckoned I was a handsome baby, let’s just leave it at that. Though, you might wanna take it down a notch,” he points a finger at him, “cause if we end up findin’ a relative of yours, I’m gonna be askin’ for your baby pictures, and then we’ll see how you like bein’ held up like a showcase.”

Delta shrugs. He would also like to see his baby pictures, so he invites Augustus to ask for them. This threat doesn’t frighten him, Augustus.

“An’ as fer you, young lady,” Sinclair says to Eleanor before reaching over to shut the book, then he takes it and holds it close to his chest, turning away from her a little to jokingly protect the book from her, “I think you’ve had enough time eyeballin’ my pictures for today. Think I’ll be holdin’ onto this for a time, ‘til your daddy’s purged those snapshots from his mind.”

Eleanor giggles.

“That’s fair,” she says, before twisting in her seat to look up at Delta. “Father, we were just discussing up the possibility of adding our own photographs to the album as well. There’re plenty of empty pages to fill. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

Delta’s shoulders only perk up higher, delighted with the notion, and just as always, seeing Delta look happy makes Augustus happy.

“Well, you know what, honey?” he says, smiling and turning back to her properly, before patting Eleanor’s knee, getting her attention. “It sounds like…a mighty good idea ta me.”

Eleanor gasps happily, then grins and excitedly looks up at Delta.

“Oh! We should start by taking pictures of your roses, Father!” she says, then starts scrambling up from the sofa. “Hold on - I’ll just go and fetch my camera!”

As she runs out of the living room and across the foyer, Sinclair calls out to her, brandishing the album up in the air, “An’ I’m settin’ the ground rule now: this album stays in my safe when you ain’t usin’ it!”

“Alright!” Eleanor calls back without looking, practically flying up the stairs to go to her room.

Sinclair watches her go, then gives a soft sigh and removes his glasses, letting them hang from the cord around his neck again. Photo album in hand, he rises from the sofa, then looks over at Delta, who’s watching him.

“Well. Reckon we oughta be gettin’ back to it, hey, chief?” he says, sounding tired, then holds up the book. “I’ll go put this away so that it’s secure, then you an’ I can go back ta twiddlin’ our green thumbs, hm?”

He starts to walk toward the stairs, but just as he goes to pass Delta, an arm comes down in front of him and blocks his way, startling him.

Sinclair whips his head around to look at Delta, raising an eyebrow in confusion, only for that arm Delta had put out to wrap around him and pull him in for a gentle hug.

“Aww,” Sinclair says with a chuckle, patting Delta’s chest. “Now, what’s this all about, pumpkin? Did ya miss me, or are you always jus’ feelin’ cuddly?”

Delta is silent; his response comes in pulling back from the hug a little to free up space between them, then prodding Sinclair in the chest and holding his finger there in his designated sign of asking Sinclair if he’s okay.

Sinclair’s mouth forms an ‘o’ in his surprise, but then he gives a puff of a laugh through his nose and shakes his head as he hangs it; should’ve known Delta would notice his demeanour, he’s even more observant than Eleanor. He’d dare to say, as well, that Delta knows him better than anybody, nowadays.

“You got eyes like microscopes, chief,” Sinclair says, glancing up at him, before patting the hand Delta’s got on him. “But no matter what you’re seein’, I’m alright. I just, uh…”

He’s not really sure how to talk about all these feelings he’s got churning inside of him right now, not sure if he even wants to, to be honest. But if he does end up chatting about it, it’s probably best to do so after Eleanor’s gone to bed; he doesn’t want to dash her hopes by having her hear about how he’s getting a little overwhelmed by everything.

He clears his throat, then reaches up to pat Delta’s chest again, giving him a smile as he says, “Forget it - I’m just fine, honey. Nothin’ to worry your head over, it’s just that, ah…this walk down memory lane was a li’l more like a trip and a fall this time.”

Delta gives a sympathetic croon, then pulls Sinclair in for a slightly tighter hug, not enough to hurt him but enough to make his point clear, using both arms this time and bending forward to try and encompass Sinclair’s body with his own.

“You are too good ta me, pumpkin pie. Didn’t I just say I was alright? You got eyes like microscopes but ears like dams, is that it?” Sinclair says with a laugh, humouring Delta by hugging him back and patting his side. “But like I said, I’m jus’ fine, so you stop your fussin’. Instead,” he pulls back and prods Delta’s chest with a finger, “you should be concernin’ yourself with the state of those roses of yours. Poor things must be gettin’ thirsty, waitin’ on us this whole time.”

Delta’s shoulders perk up again, eager to get back to work, and Sinclair chuckles before telling him he’ll just quickly put his album upstairs, out of the way, and he’ll join Delta afterwards. 

As he walks up the stairs, Sinclair looks fondly down at the album in his hands, giving another soft sigh through his nose as the gold cursive on the cover catches the light, shining: La Familia.