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soapoet · 1 year ago

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describing your next love...

...because i'm just as nosy as you are.

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Lucky people by Waterparks

they have a very sunny energy. the kind that peaks out behind the clouds after a fall of rain. rejuvenating, always welcome. they try their best to stay optimistic, for loved ones and strangers alike. it feels a little tragic because there is a darkness inside them that they choose to ignore. their sunny disposition seems less like a mask and more like armour. it's what has gotten them this far. they may have had a rough childhood, and their heart may have been wounded particularly by one of their parents. they struggle with mental health and might be neurodivergent. they're the kind of person to end a depressing sentence with 'lmao', or turn a therapy session into a stand-up comedy show. they cope with their struggles through humour, because if they take themselves and their problems too seriously and lean in too close to where it hurts, the pain becomes overwhelming. their heart is much like a dam, holding back tons of tears of almost biblical proportions. even still, if they opened the floodgates they'd find a way to muster a 'noah, get the arc' joke to force some sunlight through the clouds.

despite their dance around their own feelings, they're encouraging of others expressing theirs, and stand firmly by their side and always have a shoulder to offer if needed. they love to make people laugh, and aren't afraid of making a fool out of themselves if it puts a smile on someone's face. they'll gladly cast themselves as a jester if it makes their loved ones feel like royalty. they're very excitable and fun to be around. at their best they are a firecracker, bursting with an energy so infectious and bright. they're creative and very passionate about their hobbies, often to the point of obsession. it seems like all they do they do with such love. like a show is never just a show, but a whole world of its own to explore and come to know as home. they love the escapism of foreign lands, fictional and real, and something about them makes a simple trip to the grocery store an adventure with many memories to one day share.

you either already know them, or will meet them very soon. especially if you're in a transitional period, moving away, changing jobs or applying to schools, then this is a person you'll meet in this next chapter of your life. this has friends to lovers written all over it. you might be in the same friend group, or meet them through a mutual friend. their hair stands out for some reason. it could either be in the literal sense because it's messy, perpetual bedhead, or they have a unique colour or cut. perhaps they change their hair frequently and have a bit of chameleon vibes in which they become unrecognisable with every change that they make to their appearance. they're average in height but could look taller than they actually are. their posture isn't the greatest, especially if they're an artist of some kind. they have golden retriever energy and may be a dog person in general. for some, they have freckles or dimples, or prominent birth marks. there's a lot of mutual pining involved before anything happens. they're a little bit oblivious, too. someone else might have to step in to spell things out for either of you.

02.

Shufflemancy: Into you by Ariana Grande

being playful and flirtatious can get you in quite a bit of trouble, and they know this from experience. they're attractive, and seem very aware of it, though there is less legitimate arrogance and more playful cockiness involved. they like to make an effort to look good, and have a strong appreciation for a partner who does the same. generosity may be a way they show this appreciation because they understand the time and maintenance this effort can take, and are of the mindset that they ought to reward what they like rather than simply expect it or take it for granted. they're likely involved in business such as investments or trade, or could be working on building a business of their own. they're physically fit, and might frequent the gym or be into sports. they have a lot of stamina because of this, so do with that information what you will.

they could have a bit of a reputation due to an unscrupulous past, and it is one they have done much work to rewrite. they want to settle down, but haven't found someone they could commit to. a big issue for them is the way fun gets sucked out of things too quickly in the relationships they've been in. they're very spontaneous and have a big capacity for romance, but they often find themselves lacking space and time to do anything special. like how you would decide to clean the house to surprise your mother, only to have her call and ask you to do just that, ruining the gesture. similarly, in their relationships they may find themselves cornered, and in the suffocation of their freedom and passion their capacity and desire to impress and to woo begins to fade like a smothered flame, which in turn causes strife. and the nagging that so often followed turns them into a complacent shell of themselves, wherein it's better to nod along than risk discord. they seek an equal. somebody powerful in their own right, who can support them and be supported in return. they want love to be an adventurous undertaking of a power couple ready to seize the day.

this feels like a right person wrong time -scenario. when you meet they're probably in a relationship with someone else, or you are. you could meet at some sort of social gathering or organised event like a fundraiser or a concert. there's a distinct sense of delay here, though the interest is mutual and very persistent right from the beginning. they could hold themselves back from pursuing anything with you at first because they want a clean slate. it may at first to you seem like frustrating indecision and make you question their intentions, even integrity, but they may just be untangling their life and closing chapters. they yearn for the long-term and would like the house and the kids and whole nine yards, but need to make sure their life is upright, straightened, and ready for it. there is a playful glint in their eyes, which may be hazel or brown. there is a distinct warmth to them and a loving gaze feels especially adoring from them. they would make a very good and attentive parent and spouse for the right person. there could be a noticeable size difference between you. if you're softer and curvier, they're more angular and dense, and if you're shorter, they're taller, etc.

03.

Shufflemancy: Great shipwreck of life by IAMX

oh, how charming! they're gregarious, and attract quite a few admirers. though it seems they take few, if any, seriously at all. their popularity may be a byproduct of an important or visible position that they hold. they could be a prominent figure within their community or be very successful in their field of work or hobbies. their schedule is often packed with meetings, events and social obligations. they could travel a lot too, both for pleasure and for work. for their work they may spend extended periods of time away from home. in spite of their sociable persona, they keep their private life very private, under lock and key, and may even be secretive about it to an extent. they may be unapproachable or simply be unattainable by people outside of their established circles. there is an element of social games or hierarchical factors present in their life, and whilst they're good at networking, climbing ranks, or beating records, they may actually find many around them to be uninteresting or outright obnoxious. where they spend their professional hours draws a lot of similar types of people together, and their tastes differ quite a bit. being married to their work in a way leaves few options for them in love since they look for something outside of their norm, which they have little time to explore.

there could be a fear of being taken advantage of. like they can't seem to trust people easily, and expect everyone to have ulterior motives. to use them or get something from them. these trust issues run deep, and either they have been burnt before or have watched somebody close to them fall from grace and are afraid they'll share that same fate. there could also be legal reasons for their caution, as they may have signed contracts or taken an oath that dictates what they can and cannot share, particularly if they work for the government or a big corporation.

this connection might begin online or otherwise have distance involved even if you meet in person first. lots of messages or calls. they revel in good banter and enjoy entertaining more out-there ideas. they feel starved off of deeper conversations because their life seems to revolve around a lot of simple niceties and professional talk with tons of things redacted, edited, and filtered to fit into a very narrow box deemed correct and good and appropriate. it's very tiring and wears them out, even though they won't show it. they really appreciate things that differ from the norm or breaks the status quo in some way. what they consider their type is also very different from what would be expected of them, and their peers would be shocked to hear what they find ideal both in terms of a partner and a life that they would like to lead. their voice seems important too. they have a very attractive voice, could be a great speaker or an artist. their hair is either longer or shorter than average (shorter for women, longer for men), and their physique leans slimmer and angular, not a lot of curvature just lots of straight lines and sharpness.

04.

Shufflemancy: Willow by Taylor Swift

they probably don't get out much. most if their life occurs behind closed doors. they could work or study remotely, and their schedule might be different from the usual nine to five. their friends and family may live at a distance, too, which leaves them few reasons to leave the house. they need mental stimulation and might be a little high-strung, their nerves like violin strings wound too tight. independence is of great importance to them and their boundaries are clear, almost like austere walls protecting a castle. they appear aloof and don't say much, especially around strangers. though their shyness is often overruled by their intrigue. they like to tinker with things and minds alike, and may often step in to play devil's advocate just to stir the pot. especially in their boredom they may seek out discourse as a form of entertainment. they have strong opinions, but are not stubborn or unable to bend. in fact, something they abhor is weak convictions and mindless agreement. they respect admittance of ignorance far more than the parroting of popular opinions if there is a lack of substance behind them. they really do not seem to mind different views at all, and may surround themselves with people of all walks of life and various temperaments and opinions. this is in part driven by an insatiable thirst for knowledge. it's as though they've made their quest in life to seek information and learn everything they can in one short lifetime. they are open-minded and curious, and have great respect for anyone who has something to teach them. and they're a great teacher themself! even if they do not literally teach as a part of their work, they might have been told by many that they should consider it because they really have a way of adapting information, hand-tailoring it to their audience, so that even complex things get delivered and comprehended.

where they may be a great source of knowledge and advice to those around them, they aren't the greatest in terms of emotional support. they are a problem solver, and they can't fix tears. they try, but it feels clumsy and awkward. though that can be a little charming, too. they care a lot, more than people might expect. they're just terrible at showing it through big and extravagant gestures and displays of affection. they're more likely to give praise or take on tasks to unburden you. they like routine and solitude and seek someone who rivals the comfort of their peace and quiet. they could die happy if they could simply share a space comfortably with someone without constant noise, buzz, and attention. they could be strangely private about things that don't necessarily call for privacy. like, they might easily drop childhood lore in a casual conversation, but find inquiries about what they did yesterday suspicious even if they didn't do anything special.

because this is a bit of a 'rapunzel, rapunzel, let down your hair' -type of situation where they're very comfortable in their ivory tower that gets no visitors, it might take a while before you meet them. they're far more social online and you could meet through common interests like online games, subreddits, discord, or through mutual friends. if you already know them, there may be a sense of unrequited love for a while. they rarely act on their infatuations and just wait it out, enjoying the feelings for what they are but do little, if anything, about them. alternatively they participate in very indirect chasing that appears more like making the other person chase them. they have attractive hands, could be ambidextrous or they fidget a lot with their hands. they may be a writer, play an instrument or play a lot of video games. they always appear deep in thought or even a little irritable, even if they're actually not. not so much RBF as simply spacing out. their eyes seem hazy. whichever colour they are it looks desaturated and blurry, like there's mist covering them. blues lean greyish, greens look muddy, browns look more true and lack the amber warmth. they might wear glasses or contacts. regardless of race they're a little paler and may have some health concerns or struggles.

05.

Shufflemancy: I want you to want me by Chase Holfelder

there is something broken here. their home, their heart, or perhaps their mind. it'll be difficult to break through this shell because the exterior is harsh and uninviting. whatever it is that haunts them, it really shows in their relationships. they walk a path seemingly unlit and full of horrors, leaving behind them a trail of broken hearts. pieces of both their own and those of past lovers scattered along the way. to some their love is suffocating, draining and overbearing. when they get attached they latch on with a powerful grip that seems unyielding. they're a rock that could weather the strongest of storms and they're used to being a pillar of strength. but it seems as though their past is full of people who would have needed the room to bend with the winds and were left feeling too restricted. they may have a jealous streak that's rooted in fear of betrayal, likely from past hurts. they could struggle with a mental illness or have history of abusing drugs or alcohol to numb what haunts them.

they really want a partner in crime. someone who is similar to them and understands their turmoil. they have a big capacity to understand and deal with heavy burdens and mental issues in a partner too and aren't easily fazed by emotional outbursts or any type of spiraling mentally or emotionally. they also remind me of the quote 'a hero will sacrifice the person they love to save the world, a villain will sacrifice the world to save the person they love'. they seem a bit like an outcast or a misfit, and those closest to them may also be underdogs and form a very tight-knit group. they're a little bit of a hopeless romantic and have a soft side. if they're musically inclined they might write you a song, or otherwise use writing as a way to express their feelings in a deeper way. their cold and rough exterior is there to ward off the most frail and flaky. they don't want to ruin dainty petals or have their own ripped out by players.

funnily enough they actually look like one themselves. they have that quintessential heartbreaker look to them. the one all the movies deem nothing but trouble. a villain in the story of many but their own and those closest to them. there is a feminine energy close to them that they're very protective of, like a sister or mother. for some they might be providing and caring for a sick relative. they have an unusual job or field of study, and peculiar working hours. they might work a graveyard shift, gigs, or do work that's seasonal or done on the go. music plays a big role in their life and you could meet them at a concert or through another kind of relation to a band or artist you both enjoy. they take a keen interest in the strange, and the mysteries of life. they might study the occult, enjoy conspiracy theories, true crime, etc. they're distinctly cool toned, blondes are dirty and ashy, browns are void of red pigment and lean darker, almost black. blue eyes are very cold and piercing, and brown eyes are very dark and may appear black. they have piercings, tattoos or scars and may bruise easily, or be into those things in others.

06.

Shufflemancy: Trust by Boy Epic

somebody send this person on a mandatory holiday. i really should not have left this one for last, because the energy is really heavy. their life seems unbalanced, like it is all work and no play. there is a jittery energy here as though they are running on fumes and caffeine to fuel a big machine with hundreds of intricately moving parts. they might work in real estate, management, law, IT, or have a lot of people they're in charge of who depend on them. they have impeccable memory and somehow manage to stay on top of things with ease. they like being personally involved and may be hands-on with many of their projects. task management comes naturally to them. it's as if they're playing a game of chess with life and stay aware of every possible variable and reach outcomes long before they show in the present. this spills into all areas of their life and allows them to map out goals with great precision, leaving very little room for uncertainty. they're very stable and competent. but they're also miserable. even though they enjoy their work for its challenges and the heights it allows them to reach, it may seem to them as though they are wearing themselves out without real purpose beyond the accolades. like they're building an empire in vain because there is nobody to share their glory. they want more from life, namely a home. their home is as big as it is hollow and they don't like it there. it lacks a lot of love and light and they wish to bring some of that into it through children and a spouse.

they may come from a big family themselves, even one of good fortune. their discipline and work ethic is likely something instilled in them by a father figure, and there could be a bit of an eldest child complex at play, wherein they have always felt the need to set an example for their younger siblings, but also feel embittered by what they cannot get away with that others so easily can. they could use with a bit of whimsical and carefree energy in their life. they're aware of it too, as they find a bit of chaos oddly attractive in a partner. in previous relationships they may have been with people far too similar to them, allowing them no place of restoration and solace, but instead a constant movement of the goal post. they seek someone comfortable and more easy-going who can help them relax and live a little. they are generous and would spoil a worthy partner rotten, but are also afraid of gold diggers and don't want to be taken advantage of, as they may have run the risk of in the past.

out of all groups, this one leans the oldest. depending on your age they could easily be 5-10 years your senior, and if you're very young it will likely take some time before you meet them. you might meet through work, through coworkers, at a work related event, or if it is a leisurely occasion it's one with a mixture of age groups like a family gathering of sorts. for a few, you could run into them a few times at random whilst running errands and going about your daily routines. either way interest is established quickly, even though they may seem stand-offish or even stiff at first. in actuality they busy themselves with observing, and throughout your interactions, and your interactions with other people in their presence, they size you up and try to figure you out. they could be very taken with you, but they try their best to not show it. they're cordial, but keep their cards hidden. once they decide to pursue you everything happens very quickly. again, because of their game of chess having played out various scenarios while they figured out their feelings and rearranged their life to fit you into it. they're eager to please, and one-on-one you may be surprised by their sensitive and softer side. they're doting and have a lot of adoration once they fall, and out in public where they seem level-headed and collected you can easily distract them and have them stumbling a bit. they're very protective and are bigger or stronger than you. their features lean darker and they may have an earthy look to them, like green or hazel eyes and auburn hair. this one has the strongest indications of marriage.

#pac reading #energy reading #pick a card #pick a picture #intuitive reading #love reading #tarot reading #pick a card reading #pick a pile #love pac #tarot pac #soapy.post

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 2 months ago

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Until I see you again

Eris x mermaid OC

Based on this prompt by @ghostedgrim

Word count: 2400+

Warnings: swear words; imagining beheading; blood and bruises

For the Day 1: bonds/bargains of @erisweekofficial

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

Eris was exhausted. He had enough of this place, he had enough of his fucking father and his stupid decisions that led to nothing good. Oh, how desperately he waited for the day he could get rid of that old asshole and take over this court. He already had a whole badass list of things he would do.

His eyes roamed over the room and all the faces gathered here. Dead. All of this lordlings who were trying to shove their heads up Beron's ass, would be dead. That was the very first task on his list. Imagining their heads rolling down on the floor, was the only thing that was helping him survive today's counsel.

He had to play his part flawlessly and wait patiently for the right moment to make his dreams come true, but right now, he wasn't able to take it anymore. When the meeting with lords and his father that caused the blood boiled in his veins, was finally over, he stood up and with long strides marched out from the room before someone could stop him. He wasn't able to keep his bored, ruthless mask, it was slowly slipping from his grip. The fire hummed in his veins, asking for permission to burn, to kill, to destroy. He desperately needed time to cool down, to clear his mind before he would do something stupid and expose himself.

Without giving it much thoughts, he headed for the gardens. Maybe the fresh air would do him good. The Mother granted him his wish and he didn't meet a single soul on his way through hallways, nor when he finally got out of that rotten place. Brisk air filled his lungs and part of his burden instantly disappeared. Feeling a bit lighter and completely lost in thoughts, his legs carried him to unmaintained part of the garden and up the hidden path to the forest on the hill behind the Forest House.

It was beautiful sunny day and birds merrily chirped in the crowns of trees. The forest shone with the bright colours of autumn, gentle breeze played with the remaining smell of storm from the other day. Eris took a deep breath and closed his amber eyes. He didn't need sight, he knew this place so well as the back of his hand. His legs sped up until he was running, pushing through the low bushes. He slowed down only when the ruins of the ancient sanctuary dedicated to one of the forgotten gods came into view.

Half immersed in the undergrowth lay the remains of massive pillars and walls, the grey limbs of broken marble statues that used to be white, stuck out among the ivy leaves like canines of gigantic monster. The nature was slowly swallowing what didn't belong there.

Eris always had a very strange feeling in this place bordering on fear. He felt here history that breathed as if it was a living thing, and magic older than his kind soaked in these stones, buzzing under his feet. It was dangerous and repulsing, yet pulling him closer, inviting him to stay. Only here he could be himself and didn't need to hide anything. As a little boy he used to come up here to cry after beating. This was his kingdom, his safe place.

Before he could give in to the lure, the sounds of happy barking reached him, pulling him out of the trance. It took only a single heartbeat and he was surrounded by his smokehounds. The beasts were excitedly jumping around him, trying to lick his face.

"Good boys," Eris relaxed and finally smiled, petting as many heads as he could. From the inner pocket of his jacket he took out the dog crackers that he carried around just in case. These furry beasts always scared his dark thoughts away and cheered him up. With them, it was as if all the worries suddenly disappeared in a puff of steam.

He took out a bow and quiver with arrows from the one of remaining alcoves in the wall. From the moment their master touched those things, the hounds didn't need any command, they instantly knew. Wagging their tails, they fell silent and sniffed in the air. As one they rushed deeper into the forest, closely followed by Eris. His amber eyes turned into two hot coals with excitement from the hunt, playful smirk twisted corners of his mouth.

This was what he needed the most now. The feeling of freedom, the wind playing with strands of his long red hair and a prey to shoot down and later bake on dancing flames. He rushed through the forest, zigzagging between the trees, following his hounds. Their brilliant noses never failed them. Even now they certainly found him some interesting prey. They knew his preferences and loved the challenge as much as he did.

They ran maybe for an hour when a sound of rushing water filled the air. Eris knew this part of the forest as well as the stream ahead. He often hunted around here.

The stream was actually quite small and harmless river, the only source of water for all kinds of creatures inhabiting this place. However, when it started to rain, it turned into a wild torrent that took and killed everything that stood in its way.

The hounds led him for a while down the stream, completely silent, their eyes on something he couldn't see yet. Gradually they slowed down until they stopped, growling lowly. There it was, his prey.

Eris hid behind the nearest trunk and listened. It took him a while to pick up on small whimpers and groans, coming from behind dense bush in the bend of the stream. Something was hiding in there.

He sneaked closer, securing one of the arrows in his grip. He quietly drew the bowstring to its maximum, ready to fire. He peeked out from his current hideaway, looking for the motion. There, among the yellow and orange leaves, a deep blue scaly tail glistened in the faint rays of sunlight penetrating through the treetops above him.

Eris frowned. What the fuck? He'd never encountered so big, strangely coloured snake nor heard about something like that. The tail was as thick as his own waist. What creature could be possibly so big. His gaze followed the trail of glittering scales to the place where the tail started to taper, disappearing in the water. Suddenly an enormous fish fin emerged from the water and splashing all around fell back.

Eris inhaled sharply. His gaze wandered to the other side where scales turned into a skin, a soft looking pale skin with slightly bluish undertone that had never been kissed by sunlight. Small bruises and wounds covered the torso of the young female with long sea-green hair. She lay face down, exhausted in the grass, her chest heaving heavily. She whimpered as she struggled to push up on her delicate arms, pulling herself on the bank. As soon as her fin left the water, she collapsed down and turned on her back, exposing naked chest with two lovely peaks.

Eris could swear that he already felt them in his palms, firm and squishy, hardening as he worked on them. He shook his head to get rid of that picture, to clear his mind once again.

He watched her with bated breath, drinking in the delicate beauty spread on ground before him. The big eyes of the colour of ocean searched the forest around her, but she didn't notice him. Her breath slowly calmed down, full lips lightly quivered. She had to be really scared, being so far away from her home in unknown territory. As far as he knew, mermaids didn't live in Autumn Court, only in ocean and mainly in Summer Court. She was indeed too far. How did she get here?

A small cuts on her tiny neck, the gills, closed up, turning into faint scars. In horror he watched as her tail began to melt before his eyes. He'd never encountered a real mermaid and any of the stories didn't mention that they could come out of the water. The panic gripped his insides at the thought of her turning into a sea foam and perishing just like that. He couldn't just stand here and keep watching, he had to help her.

Putting bow down, Eris stepped out from behind the tree trunk, heading to her. He abruptly halted when his gaze landed on two long pale legs. She wasn't dying, only changing. He'd never seen someone so beautiful in his entire life. His jaw tightened as his gaze roamed over her perfect naked body, slightly glistening as if dusted with glitter, his cock painfully twitching in the pants. He wanted her right there, right now. He hardly controlled his actions. A primal growl sounded in his chest, startling her.

Little mermaid's body fully turned to him, her face a mask of terror. The moment their gazes locked, he froze on spot, the urgent violent need faded into a faint feeling that made his heart fluttering with warmth he never felt till this day. She gasped and struggled to stand up, wailing in the pain. That snapped him out of his stupor. He blinked once, then twice. Wolfish grin slowly spread on his face.

"Let's see who I found wandering in my forest," he tilted his head to the side. The female took a step back, whimpering in more pain. Eris noticed a bloodstain on the place where she stood before. He swallowed hard, the desire to tease her and play with her was all gone instantly. "Are you seriously hurt?"

She didn't answer, only stared at him with those marvellous eyes.

He raised his hands, trying to not to scare her more. "I won't hurt you. Let's start again. I'm Eris Vanserra, a heir to the Autumn Court. Who are you?"

"I'm Mare," she finally spoke. Her voice was trembling, but it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. It was so melodic as the sweetest song in this world and carried the sound of the waves in it, smell of salt immediately hit his nose. The sound was luring him to come closer, his fingers tickled with need to touch her skin. It was so hard to resist it, but he was a stubborn male. Nothing could break him so easily.

"Very well," he said seemingly unaffected, giving her a smile he hoped was kind and reassuring. "How did you get to the forest, Mare? The ocean is quite far from here."

She looked around, searching for the words. It seemed that even speaking was painful for her. "I wanted to see the mainland and got caught in the storm. I think that something hit my head and when I woke up I was here, in this puddle of sweet water." She pointed her tiny finger to the stream with disgust.

Eris snorted, hiding it with his palm.

"I have to return to the ocean," she urged. "I don't have much time."

The urgency in her voice caused the smile to freeze on his face. "What happens if you don't?"

"I'll die," she said simply without an ounce of fear.

A shiver ran down Eris's spine. For some reason he couldn't allow that, but he didn't want to let her go. Not yet. Something in her presence made him feel at peace and so free as he'd never felt before. He narrowed his amber eyes on her, thinking.

"If I help you to get back, what will you give me in return?"

She tilted her head to the side, calculating. Her gaze darted nervously to the setting sun. Then she smiled sweetly. "What would you like to get for your help?"

Eris knew exactly what he wanted. "I want to see you again."

She blinked in shock. "You what?"

"You heard me. I want to meet with you again."

Her big eyes roamed over him, finally properly taking him in. She blushed and her expression softened. "Fine. So will you help me?"

Eris took down his jacket and stepping to her, he wrapped it around her delicate form, trying to not to look at all the tempting parts of her body that caused the fire in his vein roared with need. She was so small that she hardly reached to his chest, his jacket looking like a dress on her.

When she was finally fully covered, he picked her up, tugging her to his chest. She blushed even more fiercely, her heart beating so fast and strongly that he not only heard it but also felt it. He couldn't suppress the gentle expression that softened his features as he looked down on her.

"Fine," he hummed and winnowed them to the coast.

The salty wind ruffled their hair and Mare twitched in his arms, desperate to get back to the water.

"Not so fast," he murmured, tightening his grip on her. He carried her all the way to the line of water, but didn't stop there. He continued until he stood up to his waist in the water.

"Don't forget your promise, Mare."

"I won't," she looked up at him. "Thank you, Eris." With that she reached up and pulled closer to his face. She pressed her cold lips against his, drawing a moan from him. She taste even better than he was imagining.

So slowly he lowered with her to the waves, feeling exactly the moment her legs changed back into the tail. She sank into the waters and he gladly followed her, their lips still dancing, drinking each other. When his lungs started to burn with pain, she pushed him away, and he emerged to the surface, gulping the fresh air. He looked behind him and gasped in surprise. He was at least a kilometer from the shore now. Glittering deep blue tail rose from the waters and fell back down, splashing it into his face. He laughed out as hand caressed his chest.

"I won't forget," ocean around him sang and he knew she was gone. Yet he waited for another ten minutes, hoping to see a glimpse of her hair or tail and only then he swam back to the shore. There he stretched out on the white sand, letting the last rays of sun to dry his clothes. New tattoo on his inner thigh prickled his skin as he listened to the song that was carried on the waves about the red-hair prince with fire in eyes and little mermaid that fell in love on first sight.

#eris x oc #eris fanfic #eris fic #eris x mermaid #eris vanserra #eris acotar #high lord of autumn #autumn court #high lord eris #pro eris vanserra #erisweek2024

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flamingo-writes · 5 months ago

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I'm literally begging you 🙏🏽😭 for a gentle/sfw fic or head canons (it's so rare to see a fic of Hobie that is not nsfw😔) where Hobie has a significant other (that is also a spider person from Mexico from different universe) that has cottagecore vibes and is really colorful unlike Hobie but they still love each other, and it's just Hobie visiting them in there universe or they went on a date and it's just a sweet moment💓

I adore how well you write Hobie, I wish you well and thank you in advance 💕

I absolutely loved this!! I wanted to write an actual fanfic but the freaking heat wave and the seasonal depression are making it hard for me to write extensive pieces 😭😭 so I wrote this in headcanon's format. I hope you like it.

the song Corazón de Rubí by El Búho ft Miük helped inspire this.

Corazón de Rubí – Hobie x Mexican!Reader.

Hobie could never really understand what people meant when they said "warm winter"

Seriously? What the fuck was that? Winter was always cold. Sometimes it was less cold that previous years. But it was always cold.

At least until he met you.

Not only in the cheesy metaphoric way. Hobie is artistic, not only he's a visual artist, he's a musician. Of course he's thought about it in a metaphoric way.

Something he'd always keep hidden, maybe except from you.

But you literally were warmer.

From the friendly and welcoming nature. To the very bright colours surrounding you.

He changed colors, and sometimes they were bright. But the color palette you and your universe was vastly different. It was vibrant, saturated, contrasting between them. It was like someone had turned up the brightness in the world.

Both literally and figuratively.

Your world was simply warmer.

Even well into December with winter just around the corner.

Hobie thought it was adorable how you complained about it being cold when the humidity and warmth was so unlike anything he was used to.

The jungle was still vibrant green.

When you were taking a break from you Spider Duties and escaped the city, you'd hide away in a small house that once belonged to your grandmother, in the middle of the jungle.

Where exactly, he didn't know. He just knew the vast green mountains before him were referred to as La Sierra.

For a full week, the both of you decided to run away from your duties and maybe forget about the mutliverse, the rest of the Spider Society could hold the fort just fine without you two around.

And for a full week, close to the start of winter, you hung out in your grandmother's house.

It was small, and could easily get lost between the tall trees.

It was sunny for the most part, but not hot enough to be bothersome.

Hobie's favourite part was watching you go about your day. Water the plants, take out the dogs, buy groceries for lunch and see you interact with the people in the closest town. Show him off as your partner. Even learning a little bit of Spanish to get him about his day whenever he felt like adventuring on his own.

He wasn't exactly fond of spicy food in the beginning, but he got to appreciate that tangy taste of chili pepper in the food.

While you were and early riser and immediately got started with your morning routine, he wouldn't wake up until midday.

And by the time he was up, you'd make tea for him, and keep him company with a cup of coffee for yourself. Who knew Mexican's liked coffee so much. Especially with cinnamon. café de olla, was called. He still liked tea better, but he'd ocassionally indulge in some café de olla.

Walking around town was also pleasant. Everyone you came across to was so nice and kind. Being a small town, everyone knew each other, and everyone apparently knew and remembered your grandmother.

And soon everyone in town came to know him too.

At night, you'd sit on the small balcony and gaze at the stars visible. They were definitely more than in the city, but it was still not that rich of a stary sky. But the way your eyes shone put the stars to shame.

Drinking either coffee (late at night), tea, if the night was too hot a cold beer. Just talking back and forth, exchanging stories and comparing childhoods.

For that full week, Hobie felt like he was in a dream. A tropical vacation swallowed by the jungle, nice humid weather, cool nights, and friendly people.

But it was spending his free time with you what made it so magical.

After returning back to his usual routine, for a good three months, he'd make so much art inspired on all the landscapes he saw. Suddenly all of his art had green in it. Green, yellow, hot pink and blue.

He kept askign you over and over again when would you two go to another week getaway from the responsibilities, already missing your grandmother's house in La Sierra. Missing the food. The nice weather.

"Fine, let's go. But we're absolutely NOT going during the summer. You're gonna die of a heat stroke on me, and mosquitos will eat you alive" You chuckled.

If Hobie felt the winter was already warm enough, he thought maybe the summer would be, indeed, very hot.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie fanfic #hobie imagine #hobie brown #hobie x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown headcanons #atsv hobie

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injuries-in-dust · 2 years ago

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What concerns me with the humans are space orcs stuff oddly enough was humanity's clothing,

Looking at mass effect and other SciFi games and films the clothes suck, boring and basic design all round.

Then I look at what we wore around the 1800s, where did our sense of fashion go?

Security chief Thron frowned as they looked down at the human, classified as; "Stowaway" in the holding cell.

Xe didn't know how the conversation had spun around to this topic, but it was engaging enough to pass the hours until they reached the next spaceport to hand the human over to the proper authorities. "Human fashion is so boring."

Jupiter classified themselves as a "Hitchhiker" but after a few hours in the cell and settled on an "agree to disagree" mentality with the security chief.

They shook their head. "You've clearly not met the right humans."

Thronn shook xyr head, "I have met many humans during my service."

"Oh service," Jupiter rolled their eyes. "You can't judge human fashion based on those guys in the service. Uniforms don't count."

"It is not just humans within the service I have met. We are a cargo vessel, we bring many useful supplies to many fledgling colonies, human ones included."

Jupiter shook their head, "new colonies? You're judging fashion by what you see on the new colonies?"

"Then what of your garments? Dull colourings all over your person. Little accoutrements to be seen. Very boring. Very typical of human stowaways."

"Hitchhikers." Jupiter corrected. "You can't judge hitchhikers and colonists. They don't have the resources to waste on fancy stuff, and I've got to travel light. It's all about keeping it simple. Hardwearing stuff that lasts a long time and could be easily replaced or repaired. And the dark colours help me hide when I'm stow... hitchhiking."

Thronn decided xe would let that slip of the tongue pass without comment.

Jupiter looked xem up and down. Even in a uniform, the alien had been allowed a few accessorires of cultural significance. It certainly added splashes of colour to the usually dull grey security uniform. A small headdress with a bright embroidered pattern, a sash around the waist with a matching design, and an epaulette on the shoulder made of small conical seashells stitched onto silk and painted in bright colours.

It was certainly more than Jupiter had going on. They had a navy blue bomber jacket, dark shirt, dark khaki trousers, brown hiking boots, a black and white shemagh wrapped around her neck and a dark green and black rucksack usually slung over her back, but right now it was sitting outside the cell in an evidence locker. The closest to an accessory they had going on was a few ID patches sewn onto the jacket and bag. Name, species, blood type, and world of origin.

Photographs and memories were their souvenirs.

"Have you ever been to any of the long-established colonies? Any that have been around for a century or more?"

Thronn shook xyr head, "I haven't. The ship's duties only take us around the border worlds."

"Then you haven't seen what humans are really capable of when they get comfortable." Jupiter pointed over to the locker holding their bag. "There are some pictures on my datapad. I managed to visit Port Marinda, Alforanza, and New Barcelona last year, they're all human colonies, all about two hundred years old. Go on, get the pad and I'll show you the pictures."

Against xyr better judgement, Thronn opened the locker and retrieved the datapad. Xe opened a small hatch in the holding cell, usually used to pass meals through.

Jupiter scrolled through the pictures until they found the folder holding the pictures of their visit to New Barcelona. The pictures showed the wonderful countryside of rolling hills of silver and purple grass, scattered with trees with leaves of bright orange. Sunglasses were a must when walking in the countryside because of the risk of violent headaches, especially on sunny days. The sunsets were simply stunning, and they had amazing local fruit that looked like a red banana and tasted like raspberry and dark chocolate.

The capital city was also a sight to see. Tall, wavy and twisting buildings that looked like bright coral growing right out of the ground. Each one was a different colour so every district contained a rainbow of either bright or pastel shades.

The people were equally bright and ingenious in their clothing. Jupiter turned the screen to show Thronn a picture they'd taken of a picturesque street market.

Thronn looked at the handful of humans in the picture. One human wore a colourful dress that looked almost like millions of feathers sewn together. Even in the still image, xe could imagine how they would shimmer in the light.

Another human, a male, he wore a bright green suit, covered with silver, gossamer-like webbing which rose out of the shoulders, spreading behind him, resembling small wings.

Xe spotted a person Xe almost thought wasn't human at all until xe realised that their skin was painted from the neck down. Covering the paint was a simple dress that looked like a net. Where each thread crisscrossed with another, a brightly coloured jewel had been sewn.

One human being, who looked to be talking with a shopkeeper over some sort of food, was dressed in an elegant gown of a bright colourful fabric that looked like a sunset itself had been turned into the material that made the garment.

There was a tall adolescent human was dressed in a tight full-body outfit with an elaborate headdress which covered their entire face with a snake-like mask. You couldn't see the human and it gave Thronn an almost unsettling impression of a large bipedal reptile moving among the humans.

"You see," Jupiter said. "Forget uniforms, travellers and frontier colonies. Just give humans time to settle down, get some resources to spare and watch their imaginations fly."

Thronn had to admit it. Human fashion was not boring.

#humans are space oddities #humans are strange #humans are weird #humans are space australians #humans are space orcs #inspiration out of nowhere #just had to write something

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chaosfairy18 · 1 month ago

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Newsiestober Day 7 : Soulmates

Fall days could be anything from nice and warm when you’re wearing your cool looking coat to freezing in your cool looking coat because someone thought it was a good idea to make a Spring/Autumn coat without pockets – no matter how nice it looked. Luckily, when Race went out in his nice coat after being forcefully taken by his friends, it was the first option and he’d not die because he wanted to look nice for the Fall Fair they were dragging him to.

The only saving grace was that his friends weren’t going with their soulmates. Yet. Mush and David would come in a few hours, so until then he had Jack and Blink all for himself and didn’t have to feel like a fifth wheel just because he hadn’t found his soulmate yet. He was happy for them, obviously, but it was just annoying to see how centred Blink had gotten with Mush around, who would be the only one to be able to talk him out of punching someone. Or how Jack finally had someone who could match his wit and mouth, who wouldn’t let him get away with talking and talking and telling five different stories over the course of it.

They’d all just seen the colourful footprints on the ground in school one day, followed them, and met the universe-chosen love of their life.

And that was fine, his friends deserved to be happy and, well, at least Skittery and Pie Eater weren’t hitched yet, he wasn’t the only one, but the more it got – especially the more found their other half in school or clubs – the more he thought about finding his own soulmate. If he ever would.

But he wouldn’t start to see footprints that he could follow that were left behind by his fated match if he just sulked at home, so he’d agreed to go with Jack and Blink to the fair.

It was still sunny and warm when they arrived, people bustling around stalls and booths either selling food, trinkets, or offering some games. It wasn’t really Halloween-themed as it was still early October, but there were some stalls selling jack-o-lanterns or ghost plushies and the like. It was fun.

He and Blink laughed over some poor guy shooting all his loads he paid for to win a rose for his girlfriend in the completely wrong direction, he and Jack bought roasted almonds and only threw them at each other once and the all together went into a haunted house that was still a bit early in the season, but it had been fun and scary.

He didn’t even think about their other two friends – his friends’ soulmates – arriving later, he was too busy dragging Jack to the bumper cars and tag teaming him with Blink to always bump against him as fast as possible.

The first time he noticed something bright on the ground, he almost dismissed it, thinking it was just some flyer, or decoration that had fallen down, until he did a double take and saw that it was footprints.

He hit Blink in the arm until he stopped talking to Jack. “What?”

“Please tell me you don’t see that on the ground.”

“See what?” Blink looked and only kicked a pebble to the side, evidently not seeing the prints, so they couldn’t just be from someone stepping in actual paint.

Race took a deep breath, not sure if he was excited or terrified. “I see footsteps.”

“For real?” Jack grabbed his shoulders, grinning widely. “Then go get’cha boy… girl… well whoever they are.” He turned Racetrack around and shoved him forward, evidently immediately wanting him to search for a stranger.

“That’s not even the direction, Jack.”, he groaned, but he did follow the footsteps. It was to where they hadn’t been before, and even if he knew his friends would most likely follow because they were nosy and couldn’t keep to themselves, he had to know now. If he didn’t find them, who knows when he’d get a chance again?

It wasn’t really easy to tell, at first, how fresh the prints were. After following them for a while he did think they got a bit brighter than when they’d started, but it might just have been his imagination. There were a lot of people and some stood right where he was trying to go, but the footsteps always went on, further through the masses of people and snaking through the fair, sometimes building little circles where his soulmate had been at one place for longer and walked in one place basically, sometimes farther spaced out where they could walk faster.

And somewhere they had to end, with someone he was destined to be connected to one way or another. Still a scary thought, but he was getting more excited now that it was here.

His search led him back to the haunted house, seeing footsteps go in – he wouldn’t go in there again, even for that – and then also out, luckily. And they led to a person this time, not just to another corner and another walk.

The boy was his age, a bit taller – if not much – and leaning against a booth selling pendants and candles where a girl and a boy were looking at everything. The boy – his soulmate, probably – was also staring at the haunted house, and Race just stopped in his tracks, suddenly self-conscious. The other boy was cool in his leather jacket, hands in the pockets, piercings on his ear glinting in the late fall sun, blond hair falling in his face, and it just made Race aware of his own looks, his short stature, the way everyone always appeared horrified when he said he wanted to study physics and math.

Should he really go? What if his soulmate was an asshole the moment he opened his mouth, what if he wasn’t even interested-

Race intended to just go, turn around and flee when he saw Jack and Blink badly hiding a few booths behind him, knowing they’d never let him. Now or never.

Racetrack went up to the blond, up until the other noticed him. “Uh… hi. I don’t want this to be- well it’ll be weird anyways, but I followed your footsteps here.”

The other looked him up and down, then at the ground, also seeing the footsteps, most likely. “Huh.”

What did he mean ‘huh’??

When Race just looked confused, the boy started to talk again: “Saw your steps in the haunted house and meant to go after them, but my friends over there talked me into at least waiting until they got done with their candle shopping.” He grinned and held out his hand. “I’m Spot.”

“Race.”

Spot snorted. “At least it don’t sound like I have to explain the nickname thing.”

“Nah, my friend group got more than enough of those.” Race laughed awkwardly, but well… he liked Spot. Not romantically or anything, they’d just met, but he was nice to talk to. That was probably good. “So, what are-“

“Wait, Sarah?”, the way too loud voice of his now ex-friend Jack sounded before they could talk more, the cowboy-obsessed idiot coming to them just as the boy and girl from the candle booth got there too, Race recognizing her as David’s sister he’d seen once or twice.

She looked to Jack, then Spot – and with it Race – connecting dots in her head. Almost throwing her bags at the other boy with her, she twirled around Race to Spot, throwing an arm around his shoulder and messing up his hair. “I told you, you shouldn’t run off and just wait here, I knew it. And it’s even someone I know; oh you’re going to be insufferable.”

“Sarah, stop it-“

“You’re going to be so cute!”

“Wait you know him?”, interrupted Jack, getting next to Sarah. The whole thing with him and her had been complicated anyways, since he first dated her before noticing her brother was his soulmate – though they separated in a friendly manner – and they still riled each other up, soon forgetting about Race and Spot.

That left Spot to clean up his hair again, moving closer to Race. “So, can I give you my number? So we can keep in touch?” Spot waited for a nod until he got out his phone, holding it out to him with a new contact.

Race quickly typed in Race – gambling addict soulmate as well as his number and gave it back, earning a small laugh from Spot.

“Think you’re funny, huh? Just saying, you can’t get a lot of money from me.”

“Wasn’t looking for any.” Race was glad they were already bouncing jokes off each other, feeling comfortable with each other. Maybe that was normal with soulmates, he wouldn’t know. “Though I am kinda looking for a kiss.”

Spot scoffed and rolled his eyes, but he did lean down and kiss him on the cheek. “You won’t get anymore.”

“Already got more than I thought.”

They listened a while more to Jack and Sarah’s bickering until David and Mush found them – as well as the two soulmates of Sarah and the other boy they’d been with – before exploring the fair more as a big group, Spot and Race joking and teasing almost the entire evening.

And every time he looked back he could see colourful steps they’d left behind.

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

Hope this was cute, I just couldn't think of anything to draw so I spun a wheel to see what ship I should write and well I looked around a long time for a soulmate AU that wasn't too terribly cliche. Hope you had fun reading!

@newsiestober2024

#newsies #92sies #sprace #spot conlon #race higgins #racetrack newsies #my writing #newsiestober #newsiestober 2024 #soulmate au

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thestarfishinjootsoffice · 2 years ago

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The slashers

(And Carrie please 😭)

With a albino child reader🤭‼️

Omg I don't know much about albinism sorry if I got something wrong or missed anything.

I shortened it because I'm not consistent.

Michael

Michael was stalking and then he saw you and thought you were a baby angel at first. Like seriously, you look so angelic!

Wanted to observe you more but then he realised that he's out for killing and then ran walked away.

A bit later when he's killed 3 people that he wonders why he didn't kill you. But whatever it was he wanted to see you again.

For a possibly-not-an-angel-and-just-an-odd-kid you sure as hell did act like an angel.

And then he started to feel protective over you. He distanced himself but that didn't work so he just dealt with this annoying feeling for now.

He saw a kid call you a mf chalk and then later he was also found cut out and dead like a chalk.

It was a sunny day where you tried to cover your eyes from the bright sun away from your sensitive eyes and your not so good wasn't helping at all.

You kept bumping into things when you bumped into a hard clothed big statue like legs which made a shade for your smaller body and you got a good look at your savior.

You were kinda creeped out since his gaze on you felt the exact watching ones you felt when you were outside or near a window but those eyes never meant harm or anything malicious towards you.

The figure then fastly walked away which was unknowingly the start of your new little friendship.

Sinclair brothers

They couldn't believe their eyes when they first saw you. You were just so... Different! In a good way! Wondered if you were just a pale kid who just bleached every hair on their body. Please forgive them they're new to this.

Bo again shows you off for tourist attraction but just in the shade, if you think he only likes you is because you can get the attention of people effectively he'll be very quick to dismiss those thoughts, of course he sees you more than that! That part is just for business. Don't think such silly thoughts again. Probably says shit like "don't run off and trip on the ground, it'll be a pain if your hair gets dirtied." but really it's just a dumb excuse to keep his paranoia away. He'll buy glasses for you if your eyesight is crazy poor.

Vincent also loves how you look. He's just in the corner like "wow I can't believe that beautiful child likes me." his cute little ass is in the basement and scribbling. Plays with your hair if you have any. He'd pick you up if you're having a hard time seeing, or covers you up on a bright day. He loves how you look but also hates the consequences you have to suffer with. He thinks you're very delicate because of these reasons and so comes mama Vincent, bo is around the corner no one can handle his mom energy yet.

Lester is sad that most of the time you can't go outside mostly because of your light sensitivity. But although the stars and the moon do look nice. Still tries to give you a good life though, he understands that you probably got looked at weirdly and doesn't want to make you feel that same way. Lester and Jonesy always have your back on this one. Random person bothering you? No problem Jonesy will get the pleasure of scaring the shit out of them maybe bite them idk depends. Maybe they're both mauling that person

Carrie

Was awestruck when she first saw you. Thought you kinda looked like her! And that you were an angel since you fit the description of one.

Would get confused if you said you get bullied. God people find reasons to bully someone for no reason.

She would definitely do something about it though, it would be very rude of her if she just let it continue.

Wouldn't go as far as killing but would scare them into never talking to you again. She might feel kinda bad but they deserved it.

Gives you old light coloured clothing as it goes well with you. Maybe you two can match!

Doesn't know what her mother will think of you so she keeps you hidden. She means no harm! She just wants to make sure she can be there for you.

#michael myers x you #og michael myers #mads mikkelsen hannibal #slasher x reader #slasher x you #sinclair twins #bo sinclair #sinclair brothers #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #carrie white x reader #carrie white #carrie #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x you

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ominouslywritinginmyhead · 2 months ago

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@anonimusunnoaniswriting @erebus-et-eigengrau our Regency-era vampire lover is back, and this time, there’s something he wants to tell you…will you hear him out? 😇

Part 1 is here.

wc: 2033 (holy shit this got LONG)

Notes: Regency au, fem!reader, dark-ish romance, some form of mind/body control but it’s still sfw (for now)

There is a ball two days before your wedding.

As the soon-to-be wife of the season’s most eligible bachelor, your presence is required. All eyes are on you as you enter the room, wearing a brand-new gown paid for by none other than your future husband, the jewels and hairpiece a gift from him as well.

Even those who give you sour looks have to admit you are the luckiest woman alive. To have a man who spoils you so much and asks for nothing but your affection is what they all hope for as well. They cannot help their envy as you hesitantly enter the room, your attire a sharp contrast to your demeanour.

People pretend to forget who you are and where you come from when they greet you, focusing instead on your upcoming nuptials and offering their congratulations. You thank them with all the graciousness you can muster, fighting back the urge to turn and flee for home.

To your relief, he finds you within minutes, and sweeps you into a corner; this is his last chance to see you before the wedding ceremony, and he is going to make the most of these fleeting moments.

You think his eyes glow from the light of the fire nearby, but it’s strange how they become this red. Or how the colour never flickers with the flames. His hand rests on the small of your back; the sensation steadies you, keeps you grounded amongst all the compliments and stares.

“How are you, my dearest?” He asks, kissing the back of your hand. His teeth flash white as he smiles.

“I am well,” you reply. “A touch apprehensive, but otherwise well.”

“Apprehensive?” He repeats. “Are you having doubts?”

You shake your head. “No doubts. But our match has the eyes of the ton. There are far too many people stepping in.”

“Not to worry, my dear.” His voice drips with honey, soothing you. “Pay no attention to this ton. You and I are the only ones who matter. Once we are wed, we shall return to my estate in the far north and never see their eyes again if you don’t wish it.”

That does sound like an appealing prospect. “It’ll be like the days of my girlhood again,” you sigh, reminiscing on the past, when all was well and you could only see the vast meadows around your father’s home, rolling hills just beyond.

“It will,” your betrothed assures you, voice still honeyed. “Come, let us dance. We shall show the ton what they are about to lose.”

It might be the wine you drank earlier, or perhaps it’s the sheer nervousness, but you cannot seem to control your legs. They walk to the centre of the ballroom as if commanded by some other force. But when you look up into your dearest’s still-red eyes - how odd - you know you are safe.

He has always made sure of it.

You curtsey and look into his eyes as the dance begins. Are they still red? How odd. The lights here do not glow the same way as the fire does, so how are his eyes still the same from then? It makes no sense.

But there are many things about your future husband that make little sense.

He is incredibly averse to sunny days, and only reluctantly agrees to promenade with you when the sky is clear and bright; his preference leans towards courting you indoors. He rarely attends daytime events during the season - you have long grown used to seeing him at the latter half of balls.

Not that it matters when he comes to your side. When he smiles at you and takes your hand in his, nothing else matters.

You know that despite his oddities, you will be happy with him. Perhaps what you feel isn’t love yet, but whatever it is, you are confident love will grow.

It is unbearable to think of the alternative.

As the music crescendos and dies down, you curtsey to him again and he bows as well, signalling the conclusion of the dance. As the dancing pairs drift away, he offers you his gloved hand. “Shall we walk?”

****

The gardens are illuminated by a thousand miniature lights. Guests linger in the shadows, seizing an opportunity to experience the world in a way their chaperones will never permit.

Your own chaperones have begun to leave you to your own devices at balls since the official announcement, particularly when your soon-to-be-husband is with you. In two days, you will no longer be their problem. You will no longer be anyone’s problem. Instead, you will be cherished and kept happy. Or so you hope.

“Come,” he says, gesturing to a nearby stone bench, voice honeyed again. What is it about these tones that makes you lose control of your body? In this moment, your movements do not feel like your own.

When the two of you are seated comfortably, his voice changes. Gone is the honeyed voice that takes control. Gone is the confident man who met you all those balls ago and said you should have more suitors. In his stead is a man who is all seriousness, whose handsome face looks darkly solemn as he faces you.

His eyes are still red. Even if a little dull.

“My darling,” he begins, “there is something I believe you must know. It would not be right for us to wed without you being aware of it.”

Your stomach lurches. What does he mean? Does he no longer care about you anymore? Is there someone else in his life? Will you be a wife in name alone?

He smiles and takes your hand. “Don’t be so distressed, dearest one. We will be married. If you still wish for it, that is.” His face falls.

“What do you mean?” You ask hesitantly. “Why would I not wish for this? It’s all I have wanted since I met you…”

“Perhaps you will not want it once I tell you,” he says. “I will not hold it against you if you change your mind. But I would like you to promise me that you will keep my secret.”

“I will. And I’m certain that nothing will change my mind,” you tell him earnestly. You care for him too much to let go, and the shame of returning to your relatives after a broken engagement would be too much to bear. No matter what it is, you will marry him in two days.

His expression is almost pitying. What does he know that you do not?

As you gaze at him, you find that he is far more relaxed under the moonlight than he is on your afternoons together this season. His fingers lace through yours - hesitantly. The first time they have ever been this way.

“Dearest,” he begins, “I am no ordinary man.”

“You are not,” you agree. “You are better than most of them in the ballroom.”

He shakes his head. “That is not what I mean.”

Then what does he mean?

“I am no ordinary man,” he repeats. “I haven’t been one in many years. Or should I say, many decades…”

Decades. The word lingers in the air. He looks only a few years older than you do. And yet, there is something about his gaunt yet handsome face that suggests he has seen more of life than anyone else - including the old Papas and Grandpapas back in the ballroom.

The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place.

“What I truly am has many names,” he tells you softly, perfect white teeth glowing in the darkness. You were not imagining their sharpness when you first met him; that’s real. “I travelled the world these last two decades and have learned all the things they call me. But in our language, it has one name.”

“Vampire,” you finish, heart pounding in your chest.

“Correct, my darling,” he whispers. “I am a vampire. I relish the darkness. I watch my friends age and die while I remain unchanged. And I thirst for one thing and one thing alone.”

Blood.

The pulse on your inner wrist throbs as he keeps your hand in his. It knows what he wants. You know what he wants.

“I have thirsted for you since the very first day I saw you,” he whispers. “I can sense the richness of your blood as it courses through your veins. You are the only one who can end the thirst I’ve been enduring for over a century.”

“Is…is that why you want to marry me?” You ask, almost accusingly. “A free and regular source of blood?”

He shakes his head. “My inner nature drew me to your blood. But my heart - silent as it may be since my change - drew me to you. To your smile. To your kindness. To everything you are aside from your veins.”

There is no honey in his voice - honey which you now suspect has something to do with his “inner nature.” He means every word he says.

“I will not take your blood if you do not wish it,” he continues. “I can endure, and you matter far more to me than my thirst. And if you wish to end our engagement, I will not stop you so long as you keep my secret. I will take the blame for our failure. But I did not want to conceal the truth from you any longer.”

The sadness in his red eyes makes it clear that he is telling you the truth. Even if it pains him, he will let you go if you do not want to marry him anymore.

You have read books about him and his kind. Like everyone else in the country, you believed that they had all fled to the Continent or been taken down by the Hunters. But he is here despite all that. He hid from everyone. From you. He danced with you and courted you, all the while seeking your blood. He wanted to marry you for you, but you know full well that your veins played a significant role in that decision.

…and is that really so bad?

Here is a man who wants you. A man who desires what you have. A man who has revealed his true nature so that this marriage will not be founded upon deceit.

And is blood such a big price to pay for that?

You doubt it.

But there is one question that remains to be answered.

“W-will you kill me once you have slaked your thirst?” You ask quietly.

“Never. I want you to stay by my side forever. I want to make you mine one day…but again, that is only if you wish it.”

Forever. He wants to be with you forever. To make you one of his kind.

He leans in and tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “What do you want to do, dearest one?” He asks, and is it your imagination? Or is his voice shaking as he speaks?

Well, it won’t have to shake for much longer.

“I want to marry you,” you whisper, forehead pressed against his. “I want to be by your side forever. I want to love you and be happy with you. That is the only thing that matters to me.”

Some might say you have made a rash choice. To marry a vampire is to run risk after risk. But you are not afraid.

Crowds frighten you. The ton frightens you. But this man, who cares for you and will not take your blood without your consent…he will never frighten you in that way.

He wants you.

He longs for you.

“Then,” he chuckles, voice steadying, “we will marry in two days.”

He leans in even further, lips brushing against your ear. “And when we are married and far away from this crowd, I will make you happy. I will give you the moon and stars and everything you desire.”

Perhaps you shouldn’t be surprised when his honeyed tones return. But what does astonish you are the words accompanying it:

“I will love you and give you a place you can truly call home.”

Part 3 coming soon, and I’m warning y’all in advance, it’s not gonna be sfw from any angle whatsoever 🤭🤭🤭

Update: It’s here! (WARNING: nsfw content)

#vampire x reader #vampire lover #vampire #vampire romance #saber writes

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ghosttotheparty · 6 months ago

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something to hold onto (14k) ao3 // pinboard // playlist tags: alternate universe - everyone lives/nobody dies; lucas sinclair loves maxine 'max' mayfield; comatose maxine 'max' mayfield; blind maxine 'max' mayfield; coming of age; love confessions; gentle kissing; emotions

March 1986

Lucas’s favourite colour has always been blue.

When he was younger, it was because of the sky. His favourite days were bright and sunny, when the sky was vibrant and clear, when the sun’s light made his skin hot to the touch and tacky with sweat. Days like that were always the best; he was allowed to go outside and play until the sun was tucking itself into the horizon, whispering good night as Lucas’s mother’s voice called his name.

Blue was the colour of the sea, which Lucas has never seen in person. It was the colour of fantasy, of daydreams. Lucas always got stuck in front of the television when whatever show his parents were watching had a beach in it, and whenever he saw a photo of the ocean in a book. His science textbook in fifth grade had a diagram of the ocean, and even after they’d finished that unit, he’d kept flipping back to that page, page 329. The blue of the ocean was a gradient, black at the bottom and pale just beneath the white sky. Lucas’s favourite animal was the jellyfish.

Blue was calm. His parents let him redecorate his room when he was twelve. He got blue curtains, a blue bedspread, a blue rug, all varying shades. They wouldn’t let him paint his walls, though, and they’re a warm shade of brown.

Blue was one of Hawkins Middle’s school colours, always paired with a nauseating shade of orange. On student-made posters hanging in the hallways, advertisements for dances and pep rallies, on basketball uniforms and the vibrant stripes painted in the hallways. And Lucas’s love for blue started to fade.

And then he met Max Mayfield.

And blue was different.

It was a curious colour then. He saw it when he closed his eyes. The sky seemed bluer, even when the sun went down.

But it’s different now.

Lucas hasn’t seen Max’s eyes in weeks. He looks at her eyelids, at the soft blues and purples and reds, traces the delicate veins just beneath her skin with his gaze. She’s so pale now. He supposes she’s always been pale, but the sun can’t see her in this room. She looks like she’s starting to camouflage into the bed she lays on, like she’s melting into the stiff, starchy fabric of the sheets and the blanket that covers her.

Except for her hair. It’s still as vibrant as it’s always been.

It’s longer now, and a little matted even though Lucas and Steve and the nurses all do their best to brush it out, to keep it smooth. Erica taught Lucas how to braid it. Lucas taught Steve.

The only blue Lucas has seen recently are Max’s veins. The plastic gloves the doctors wear, which aren’t even a nice shade of blue, light and powdery. The blue stripes on the hallway floor. The tiny flower-like shapes on Max’s hospital gown. The slivers of the sky between the curtains in her room.

And he wants to be angry, but he can’t even bring himself to feel anything but the small lump of pain in his chest, like there’s a tumor or something there, threatening to stop his heart with every pulse.

Max’s hands are cold.

Her bones have all healed. Lucas likes to trace her forearms, gazing at the subtle lines in her skin, at her freckles, which are lighter than they used to be. Fainter. Sometimes, when he’s particularly tired, it feels like he’s trying to stargaze in the middle of the day, searching desperately, longingly, for something he can’t see.

This is what he was doing when he met Max’s mom for the first time.

They’d both been visiting Max for the past week, but they’d managed to miss each other every day. Until she walked into the room as Lucas was doing this: laying on his forearm, drifting off as he’d traced Max’s arm, connecting her freckles like constellations he was working on memorising, his fingertips light like he was trying not to wake her up.

He looked up when the door opened, expecting Steve, who usually would come and sit next to him with a hand on his back, silent.

And a flash of red hair made him think he was hallucinating for a moment before he processed the woman’s face, the tired circles under her eyes, the soft lines pressed into her skin around her eyes and her mouth. The flowers in her hand. Her blue eyes.

He froze.

She froze.

They stared at each other.

Lucas sat up slowly, pulling his hand away from Max’s arm, and he held his breath, his heart pounding, waiting for her to scold him, to tell him to get away from her daughter, to say something with the voice of an angry young man.

But her voice was soft when she spoke. Tired.

“Lucas.”

She’d said it like it was a revelation, like she’d been looking for him, like she knew him. He blinked in confusion, nodding slowly.

And he watched as she crossed the room, pressed a kiss to Max’s forehead, placed the flowers in the vase alongside some others that were wilting.

“Max told me about you,” Ms Mayfield said as she pulled another chair up, sitting next to Lucas. He was sitting stiffly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her eyes to grow cold and angry.

“She did?” he asked, his voice small. Young.

She nodded, smiling, the lines in her skin deepening, and his chest ached as he wondered if Max might look like her when she’s older. If he’ll get the privilege of seeing the years make their way into her skin, mark her face.

“Good things, I hope,” he said quietly. Her smile grew.

She reached for Max’s hand and pulled it toward herself, tenderly tracing her fingers. Lucas’s hands twisted in his lap.

“She said you’re sweet.”

Lucas’s eyebrows jumped, and Ms Mayfield let out a soft laugh, nodding.

“That was my reaction too. Very odd to hear her talk about someone like that.” She looked at Lucas knowingly. “You must be something special, huh?”

His face was hot. This was never how he anticipated meeting the mother of the love of his life. Not that he’d told anyone that she was. (Except Erica, who’s been sworn to secrecy even though she insists it’s so obvious everyone already knows.)

“I’d like to think so.”

Ms Mayfield hummed, nodding, rubbing the back of Max’s hand like she was trying to rub warmth into it.

“She said you’re cute,” she said after a moment, leaning toward him and lowering her voice like Max was going to open her eyes and tell her to shut up.

“…Really?”

She nodded with a smile, and Lucas’s cheeks turned hotter as he looked at the ground bashfully, resisting the urge to scuff his feet on the ground like a fucking Charlie Brown character or something.

“Said you have pretty eyes. That your voice is nice. That you’re a good big brother, and you’re funny, and you’re handsome…” Every word made Lucas more embarrassed, but he was suppressing a smile now, because Max said all of that about him, and holy shit— “But she still refused to acknowledge that she has a crush on you.”

Lucas glanced at her. Wondered if she knew that they did actually date for a while. That they called each other boyfriend and girlfriend.

Somehow hearing that she had a crush on Lucas made his heart beat faster anyway. That she was shy about it but still apparently gushed about him to her mother.

They were quiet for a while. Lucas’s eyes burned, and his hands shook, but somehow it was fine. Like Ms Mayfield wouldn’t have minded if he burst into tears like a baby, if he sobbed into his hands or the side of Max’s bed.

“She’s really amazing,” he finally choked. “She’s so cool.”

He felt like a child, gushing about his crush, and it was stupid. But it made Ms Mayfield smile fondly.

“She’s so funny, and— and clever, and she’s crazy brave, I mean, it’s ridiculous.”

Ms Mayfield laughed. Lucas wondered when the last time she laughed was. And he wondered if Max could hear it.

“That’s my girl,” she said fondly.

Lucas wiped his tears as quickly as he could, but Ms Mayfield just leaned to reach the box of tissues and she held them out to him. He took one with a muttered thank you, and then they were quiet again.

He wonders sometimes if everything in the world could be fixed by some silence. If everyone on the planet just shut the fuck up for five minutes, everything could be righted.

He used to hate rooms that were too quiet. He hated the library even though that was where Will and Mike liked to stay after school or during lunch when they were allowed. He could hear everything, every breath, every page turning, every gurgle from someone’s stomach. Every scratch of a pencil or pen on paper, every scrape of a book being pulled from a shelf.

At home, he hated the silence too. He got a radio when he started middle school because he convinced his parents that he couldn’t focus in silence, that he needed some noise. Which is still true. He’s more productive when he works in the noisy cafeteria than he is when he’s in study hall.

But since the end of the world, he doesn’t mind it as much.

He likes being able to hear Max breathing. He wishes he could hear her heart beating.

He holds her wrist sometimes. Presses his fingertips into her pulse and closes his eyes to focus on it. Waits for his heart to catch up to it.

Steve noticed one day and he started laughing. It didn’t make any sense, but Lucas laughed too, until Steve sobered enough to tell him he does the same with Eddie. Eddie sleeps more heavily than Steve does, he’d explained, his hand still firm on Lucas’s back, and some nights Steve wakes up for seemingly no reason at all. And in the dark, Eddie looks paler than usual, almost lifeless. And Steve panics for a brief moment before his sleepy mind catches up, and he presses his fingers into the side of Eddie’s neck, or his wrist, or to his chest.

Lucas didn’t say anything about it. That Steve just… casually told him that he and Eddie sleep together often enough for Steve to have a routine when he wakes up. That Eddie’s heartbeat calms him down. But it made Lucas smile.

That was one of the first conversations he’s had with Steve since everything. Usually they just sit together quietly, watching the other do Max’s hair gently.

The quiet feels soothing. Like a blanket. Steve seems to feel it. Lucas wonders if Max does too.

May 1986

It’s seven and a half weeks that Max sleeps.

Lucas knows she isn’t really asleep. But it’s nicer to think that she is.

Just dozing peacefully. Resting.

Lucas whispers to her sometimes, even though he doesn’t know if she can hear him. He greets her with soft Good mornings and murmured How are you?s like she’s going to respond. She never does. It’s fine.

He calls her sleeping beauty, which would make her kick his shin if she could respond. (Maybe that’s why he does it. Tries to annoy her into waking up.)

He hates that her eyes don’t flutter open when he kisses her forehead. It’s bullshit that his whole life he’s heard fairy tales about princesses being kissed awake, but Max just sleeps.

It’s a Tuesday when she wakes up.

It’s bright and warm in the hospital room, the curtains open to let the sun in. Lucas is sitting next to the bed like he always is, holding Max’s hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, looking down at their linked fingers. Listening to Max breathed , to the quiet noises from the hallway. Hushed voices, squeaky wheels on pushed carts, footsteps clicking on the ground.

Max’s knuckles are red. Lucas can see her veins under her skin, and he traces them lightly. They make him think of the Northern Lights.

And then her finger moves.

Lucas freezes, looking at her finger. The sounds from the hallway are muffled suddenly, muted, like his head is underwater, and then it looks like he’s underwater too as his eyes fill with tears when her finger moves again.

He looks up at her, at her face, his breath catching in his chest as her eyes squeeze shut for a moment.

“Max?” he says quietly.

Her eyes flutter open before they close again, and Lucas moves to the bed, sitting on the edge, holding her hand tightly.

His heart is beating too fast. He can’t see clearly until he blinks tears out of his eyes, and the tears are hot on his skin as they fall down his cheeks, but it doesn’t matter, because Max’s eyes are opening, and her eyebrows furrow for a moment, and her lips part, and her fingers tighten on Lucas’s.

Her eyes aren’t blue.

They’re milky white, blank, even as she blinks repeatedly, squeezing Lucas’s hand so tightly it hurts, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. It’s fine that her eyes aren’t blue and it’s fine that she’s hurting Lucas, it’s all fucking fine.

“Max?” he chokes, running his other hand up her forearm gently, firmly, squeezing, and she’s sitting up now, pushing herself up weakly, turning her head in Lucas’s direction, but she doesn’t see him. She blinks, and tears fall down her cheeks.

“Lucas?”

Her voice is rough. She doesn’t sound like herself. The sound sends a shard of glass though Lucas’s chest, but he barely notices.

“Yeah,” he says quickly, shifting closer, squeezing her hand. “I’m right here, I got you.”

“I can’t see,” she says breathlessly, panicking. Lucas’s whole body hurts.

“I know,” he says weakly, rubbing her arm. “I know, but I— I’m right here, it’s okay.”

“Lucas—”

She pulls at his hand, tugging him closer as she leans toward him, and her throat was already rough when she spoke, but he can hear every breath scraping its way through her throat, ragged and sharp, and his eyes burn with tears.

“I’m here,” he chokes. His voice is too high, almost cracking. “I’m right here, Max, it’s okay.”

“I can’t see,” she sobs in a panic as he touches her head, his fingers instinctively pushing into her hair. He brushed it yesterday, and it’s still smooth. “I can’t see.”

“I know,” he whispers.

She’s grappling for his shirt, her grip weak, hands trembling, and he touches one of her hands, holding it to himself as he lets his head fall to hers, their foreheads touching.

“You feel me?” he asks, his voice breaking, squeezing her hand, rubbing her knuckles. She nods, pressing closer, knocking their noses together clumsily. “You hear me?”

“I hear you,” she chokes, nodding again.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, sliding his hand up her arm, squeezing gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She says his name.

Maybe it’s stupid to say, but nobody says his name like she does.

He stifles a sob, nodding, squeezing his eyes shut.

“It hurts,” Max says roughly, her hands tightening on his shirt, but her grip is still weak.

“What hurts?”

“Everything,” she chokes. “Everything hurts, Lucas, I— I can’t see—”

He nods again, squeezing her arm before he slides his hand to the back of her head, cradling her gently, tenderly, and he knows she can probably feel the way his hands are shaking, but they’re both trembling now, quivering together like leaves in wind.

“I’m gonna call a nurse,” he says, letting go to reach for the button, but she pulls at his shirt, letting out a gasping sob.

“Don’t go,” she pleads roughly. “Don’t go, don’t leave me, Lucas, I—”

He falls apart. His chest splits open and his heart spills out, tumbling to the space between them and staining the stiff sheets deep red.

He wraps his arms around her, pulling her against himself, burying his face in her hair, and he sobs.

“I’m not,” he says weakly, holding her as her shoulders shake, as she gets his chest wet with her tears. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

As he holds her, he leans to press the button.

The nurse that comes puts a paper up in the window when she sees them holding each other, and she waits by the door, holding a clipboard to her chest, watching them carefully. Lucas can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed of his tears as she watches. He holds Max’s hand to his chest, whispers her name, tells her to breathe. Exaggerates his own breaths so she can feel his chest move up and down, so she can follow along. The nurse waits the whole time, quiet.

Until they both stop crying. Until Max just sits there, holding Lucas’s shirt, her face pressed to his shoulder, hidden from view. Until Lucas sits up straight, his back cracking, his vision still blurred from his tears, at which point the nurse comes closer and picks up the tissue box, holding it out to him with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” he says, almost whispering, as he takes one and wipes his face.

He takes another, tilting his head and whispering Max’s name. She shakes her head.

“Max,” he whispers again. “There’s a nurse here.”

She shakes her head again, but she lets him push her back a little bit, enough to see her face, red and tear-streaked and fucking beautiful.

Her eyes flutter open when he touches her cheek, gently wiping her skin dry with the tissue. They aren’t focussed, flickering across his face and around them, and her breath catches in her throat, her hand tightening on his shirt.

“‘S okay,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

“Let the nurse check on you?” he asks softly after a little while, caressing her cheek, and she nods, her eyes still looking at him like she’s searching for him.

She clings to Lucas’s arm as the nurse checks her over, asking her questions quietly, gently. Tells her how long it’s been. Max hides her face in Lucas’s shoulder when she starts to cry again, and Lucas’s throat is tight as he kisses the top of her head.

“Can you tell me what you see, Maxine?” the nurse asks after a while, sitting next to Max on the bed, watching her carefully. Max lifts her head and looks around, her eyes jumping too quickly.

“It’s…” Her hands tighten on Lucas’s arm, squeezing, pulling him closer. He sets a hand on top of hers. Her fingers are cold. “It’s all blurry. Really blurry, I— I can’t see anything.” She pauses, turning toward the window, blinking, her eyelashes fluttering. “I can see… light. It’s bright over there,” she adds, gesturing toward the window with a nod, like she refuses to let go of Lucas even with one hand to point. “I can see, like…”

She stops, her voice cutting off, and Lucas squeezes her hands when she sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut before she looks around the room again.

“Color,” she says. “It just…” She looks down at herself, then at where she’s holding onto Lucas, at their hands, at his skin against hers. “It’s so blurry, I…”

“‘S okay,” Lucas whispers, squeezing again.

“Can you fix it?” Max asks, turning toward the nurse. Her voice is tight, tense.

The nurse pauses, looking down at her clipboard, and Lucas feels irrationally angry at her for her silence as Max waits. He presses his lips together and rubs his thumb over Max’s knuckles.

“It doesn’t look like it,” the nurse says gently. “I’m sorry, Maxine.”

Max is quiet.

She’s looking across the room blankly, her face void of any expression. Her grip on Lucas’s arm is loose. Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks, her gaze falling a little bit, and then she’s nodding so minutely she’s barely nodding at all.

“Okay,” she says softly, her voice barely even a whisper.

Lucas’s eyes meet the nurse’s, and she gives him a look that he can’t really read.

“You should get some rest,” she says to Max after a moment, lifting a hand like she wants to reach out and touch her arm before she thinks better of it, dropping her hand to the edge of the bed. “Somebody will come by with food in a little bit, alright?”

Max nods again.

“When will my mom come?” she asks as the nurse is standing, turning to face her, grip tightening anxiously.

“They’re contacting her right now,” the nurse says. “She should be here any minute.”

Another nod. And then she turns to Lucas, leaning toward him, and he takes her back into his arms. He closes his eyes and presses his cheek to the top of her head, and he hears the door open and then close a moment later.

They’re both quiet. Max clings to Lucas’s arm, trembling. He wonders if her eyes are closed.

She shivers after a few moments.

“Cold?” Lucas whispers. She nods.

Lucas pulls away carefully, slowly detaching them, and he keeps a hand on her back as he leans to reach for the hoodie he draped over the back of his chair earlier today. It’s a red zip-up hoodie.

“Here,” he says softly, lifting to drape around her shoulders. She lets him, her eyes closed as she lifts her arms to put it on. She pulls it around herself tightly, letting the sleeves cover her hands.

Lucas waits for her.

He looks at her. Her hair is down, covering her face because her head is downcast, like she’s hiding from him. She’s sitting cross-legged, the blanket tenting over her knees, and her shoulders look tense, tight like she’s anticipating something.

“Lucas?” she says softly.

“Yeah?”

“…Can I hold your hand?”

“‘Course,” he says, lifting a hand and holding it out to her. She looks for it, scanning her line of vision until she finds it, the contrast of his skin against the white sheets, and she reaches for it slowly, hesitantly. “‘S okay,” Lucas murmurs, waiting for her.

She takes it gently at first, her touch soft and scared, and then her grip tightens, squeezing. She shuts her eyes tightly.

“Is— Is everyone okay?” she asks after a moment, as Lucas is brushing his thumb back and forth over her fingers.

“Everyone’s okay,” he says. “They’re worried about you.”

She nods.

“The Byers are back in town,” Lucas says. “With Mike. And… some guy called Argyle.”

“Who’s Argyle?”

“A stoner dude. I think you’ll like him.”

She hums, nodding, taking a deep breath, and it doesn’t seem like she’s really listening to him. Just holding his hand. Keeping him there.

“You think Eddie will let me have some weed?” she asks after a moment, and a laugh bursts out of Lucas’s chest. She cracks a smile.

“Maybe,” Lucas says, rubbing her fingers. “Dunno if Steve would let him give it to you.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

He laughs again.

She’s smiling, head tilting, eyes moving quickly, almost quivering. Lucas gazes at her. At the lines in her cheeks that appear when she smiles, at the warm wisps of hair hanging around her face.

“I missed you so much,” he says softly.

Her smile softens. She turns toward him a little more, her hand tightening on his.

“Did you come over often?”

“They could barely keep me away.”

Her eyebrows jump.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, tracing her knuckles lightly. “Lady at the front desk knows me by name.”

She laughs lightly, tugging his hand a little bit, absently. She looks at him.

She’s scanning his face, like she’s searching for him. Her smile fades.

“What is it?” Lucas whispers.

She’s quiet for a moment.

“…Wish I could see you.”

Lucas exhales.

His whole body hurts. His hand tightens on hers and he watches as she blinks, as she searches for him right in front of her.

“Wanna try something?” he asks softly.

“Sure.”

He hesitates before he lifts her hand to his face slowly, watching her carefully, nervously. Her fingertips are cold when they touch his cheek. Her eyes flutter and she shifts toward him, sliding her hand so her palm presses to his cheek.

Her head falls forward like she’s looking down, but her eyes are still unfocused, a little wide, and her hand moves. She’s gentle, her fingertips travelling lightly over his skin to feel the shape of his nose, the space between his eyebrows. He closes his eyes when her fingers run down his face, and his eyelashes catch on her fingertips briefly.

She turns toward him more, wincing, reaching up for his face with her other hand, touching him. Her expression changes, her eyebrows furrowing, and she’s blinking rapidly like she’s trying not to cry.

“Okay?” Lucas whispers. She nods.

He waits for her as she feels his face, gazing at her, at her freckles and the way her irises are trembling just the slightest bit. She’s smiling now, and it’s a tiny smile, almost absent, almost invisible.

She presses her fingers to his cheeks and squeezes, squishing his face up, and he lets out a scoff. She grins. It’s beautiful.

Her thumb brushes over his lips, and it seems accidental at first, but then she does it again, her grin faltering. And she’s just holding his face. Cradling it. And he wants to fucking sob, to fall into her arms and wail until his throat is raw.

He holds himself together. Looks at her and waits patiently.

The door opens behind Max as she holds him, and he looks up, past her, to see Ms Mayfield entering the room. Her hair is tied into a messy bun, and her eyes are rimmed with red, which makes the blue of her irises look even brighter than usual.

Her gaze meets Lucas’s, and he can see her fall apart. There are tears cascading down her cheeks in an instant even as she’s smiling at him. Lucas smiles again, and then Max is smiling as she feels his cheeks rise.

“Max,” he says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“Your mom is here.”

She turns quickly, looking around the room helplessly as she lets out a weak, “Mommy?” that sounds like it’s from the mouth of a little girl, a girl much smaller than Max is.

Ms Mayfield sobs quietly, her hand covering her mouth for a moment as she takes Max in, and then she falls to the edge of the bed, reaching for Max, taking her into her arms.

“Hi, baby.”

Max cries.

Lucas watches Ms Mayfield’s hand run over the top of Max’s head, smoothing her hair gently, tenderly, and Max sobs, her voice muffled and weak. And Lucas’s eyes are burning again, his vision blurring as he watches them hold each other, reunited in a tearful, messy embrace.

Somehow it hits him all over again. That Max is alive. That her heart is beating. Her blood is flowing. He covers his mouth to muffle a weak sob, but Ms Mayfield hears it anyway, and she opens her eyes, looking at him over Max’s shoulder. Her eyes are bright, vibrant and shining, and then she’s reaching a hand out to Lucas, trembling.

Lucas takes it. Their fingers slide together, and she pulls, tugging him closer to herself and Max. Lucas moves closer, putting his other hand on Max’s back, rubbing gently, and Ms Mayfield touches his face, caressing his cheek and looking at him tearfully, her voice barely above a whisper as she says, “Thank you.”

He closes his eyes as tears spill down his cheeks, wrapping his arm around Max and exhaling shakily as her hand pulls away from her mother to hold his forearm. She’s trembling.

She cries until she falls asleep, trapped between her mother and Lucas, holding onto them both like she’s scared they’ll leave, even in sleep. And they stay, like they’re scared she’ll leave too.

July 1986

Max stays home usually.

Despite not really being able to see, she complains that her eyes are too sensitive now. Sunlight hurts more than anything, especially when the sky is clear. She keeps her windows at least partially drawn, her lights off. She plays music usually, her radio or walkman by her side, and she fidgets with whatever trinket Dustin left behind last time he visited.

Lucas always taps on her door lightly before he opens it. She always looks over at him blankly, curiously before he says, “Hi.”

The first time he visited her in her room, it was filled with boxes and shopping bags. Ms Mayfield had had to move after the ‘earthquakes,’ and Wayne Munson had apparently dropped everything to help her the second he saw her struggling to kick the door open while carrying a box.

They’re neighbors again, living side by side in a small duplex, and Lucas likes that they’re practically best friends now. Wayne brings Ms Mayfield coffee and tea and her favorite chewing gum, and Ms Mayfield makes the coffee and pours it into two mugs. They kind of make Lucas think of Steve and Robin: bickering and teasing and poking fun at each other, but always smiling, always gazing.

When Lucas had come over the first time, navigated through the hall to find Max’s room, found her sitting in bed fiddling with the dials of her radio, surrounded by bags and boxes and boxes and bags, he wanted to help her, and she didn't want to let him. They’d had to reach a compromise: Lucas would unbox five boxes, he would talk to her the whole time, and then he would sit with her.

That was the only expectation. To sit with her. They’d talked the whole time he unpacked for her, as he sorted clothes and set aside books and tapes and shoes and her skateboard. Max told him about when Will had come over earlier that day. He’d brought her a few tapes he thought she’d like. Lucas complained about Erica and Dustin, and how they’ve apparently become almost as inseparable as Steve and Robin, always ganging up on Lucas together to make fun of him for anything. And he heard Max laugh.

It’s a beautiful sound. Especially when she’s like this: tired and drained and sad-looking, sitting in a pile of blankets with her eyes closed because the room is so dim there’s kind of no point in having them open.

They didn’t talk when Lucas sat with her. He told her that he had finished five boxes. She nodded. And then paused before holding her hand out, and he took it tentatively. She pulled him closer in silence, and she played with his hand, feeling his fingers, the roughness of the calluses on his palm, the dips between his knuckles. He moved closer after a little bit, shifting to sit against the wall, and she let go of him to fluff out her blanket so it was over him as well. He lifted an arm to wrap around her carefully, and she exhaled, leaning against him.

She likes touching more than she used to. Even when they were dating she was never too touchy, occasionally smacking a kiss on his cheek when saying goodbye, hooking their fingers together while walking, letting their knees knock together while sitting next to each other. But now…

She tucked herself into his side, curling into a ball, as small as possible, her hand sliding across his chest and then gripping the fabric of his hoodie loosely. When he touched her hand, she spread her fingers so they could link together, and she sighed heavily. Lucas hesitantly pushed a hand into her hair, dragging his fingers through the tangles gently, and he whispered to her.

“You okay?”

She nodded with another sigh, and her voice was hushed when she spoke.

“I can hear your heartbeat.”

Which, of course, made Lucas overly aware of his heartbeat, and it promptly sped up, which made Max giggle again. And she fell asleep there, leaning against him, holding his hand, as he ran his fingers through her hair.

And this is their system now. Lucas offers to help tidy up, sort something out for her, cook something for her. Max argues half-heartedly before letting him. They sit together.

September 1986

Lucas isn’t supposed to be sitting on the counter, but his dad doesn’t mind as much as his mom, and she’s at brunch.

He’s kicking his feet in time with the music playing on the radio. He doesn’t recognize the band, but his dad is humming along, swaying as he flips pancakes at the stove. It’s a dreary day outside, grey and just rainy enough to be a little humid, but Lucas’s dad has never been one to let the weather dampen his mood. He would have a picnic in a hurricane if he had good sandwich bread. Isn’t this fun?

He’s even wearing an apron, one with ruffles and embroidered flowers over the pocket, and the apron is really Lucas’s mom’s, but he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her wear it. But she always smiles fondly when she sees her husband wearing it.

“Hey, Dad?” Lucas asks around the pancake he’s nibbling. He’d stolen it earlier and his dad pretended not to see.

“Mhmm?”

“…How did you know that Mom was the one?”

Charles lets out a dramatic sigh, flipping a pancake.

“Ah, Susan…”

Lucas raises his eyebrow, suppressing a smile. His mom hates going by Susan.

“Well, we met in college,” Charles says, glancing up at Lucas, who nods, listening. “We had English Lit together, and she wasn’t in class one day so I took extra notes and gave them to her the next week. Turns out I didn’t have to, because she actually had a friend in that class that also took notes for her, but she said it was sweet.”

Lucas scoffs, taking another bite of the pancake.

“I asked her to get coffee. We started going out,” Charles continues, setting the pancake aside and pouring more batter in the pan. “All my friends loved her. Started pressuring me to propose before we even hit six months.

“I thought about it,” he continues. “But I wasn’t sure for a while. My folks hadn’t had the best marriage, you know, and it messed with my idea of what marriage really was, right? And love, I guess. I saw my parents always arguing and bickering and fighting, and that was what I thought love was supposed to be, and it just….”

He shrugs, and Lucas nods. He doesn’t spend a lot of time with his grandparents; they live in Nevada, but he thinks even if they lived closer he still wouldn’t even want to see them. They aren’t very nice to be around.

“But your mother was a darling,” Charles says fondly, looking down at the pan and flipping the pancake. “Always patient with me when I was having a hard time. When I was unsure about anything.”

“Yeah, she’s really nice,” Lucas says. Charles hums in agreement, nodding. “…Most of the time.”

“I’m gonna ignore that. Then one day we went to church together,” Charles says, ignoring the way Lucas chokes out a laugh. “We were sitting side by side in the pew. And I was having a time, wondering if she was the one and all that stuff. I asked God to send me a sign and everything. Some knocked over books, a thunderstorm. A literal sign would have been helpful.

And then— Our hands were on the pew in front of us, like this—” He sets the spatula down and holds his hands up, miming a platform in front of himself. “And she reached over and hooked her little finger with mine.”

There’s a shine in his eye, a fond gleam, and Lucas’s chest feels warm.

“And I decided maybe I didn’t need a sign from God,” Charles says. “All I needed was a sign from her.”

He shrugs lightly, and he looks back at the pan, flipping over the pancake. It’s a little overcooked, but Charles is undeterred, still smiling absently.

“So I knew I wanted to marry her,” he says. “Knew she was the woman for me.”

Lucas hums quietly, looking down at the remaining piece of pancake in his hand, ripped into a smaller piece. The heels of his socked feet bump into the cabinet he’s sitting above, knocking it shut rhythmically because it keeps swinging back open. (Erica likes to joke it’s haunted. Not the house, but this cabinet specifically.)

“Why do you ask?” Charles says when Lucas doesn’t say anything. “You in love?”

Lucas’s face flushes with heat.

“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “Maybe.”

“Oh, with that white girl,” Charles says brightly. Lucas rolls his eyes. suppressing a smile.

“She has a name.”

“…Martha—”

”Max.”

“Max,” Charles repeats lightly, nodding, flipping another pancake as he mutters her name under his breath like he’s committing it to memory. “So you’re in love with her.”

“I don’t know,” Lucas says again, swaying. “I like her.”

“You like her.”

Lucas bites his lip to suppress his smile, looking at the tiled ground.

“I think if she said she was cold I’d set myself on fire so she could warm her hands.”

A laugh bursts out of Charles, and Lucas giggles, looking up at him.

“I think giving her your jacket is a little more traditional.”

Lucas shrugs, shoving the rest of the pancake into his mouth.

“She’s not very traditional,” he mumbles around it. Charles shakes his head at him, his moustache curved around his smile. Lucas has always thought he would be a good cartoon character.

“So you love her.”

Lucas looks at the ground again, kicking the cabinet shut again.

“Isn’t it kinda stupid?” he says quietly. His dad is quiet.

”What makes you say that?”

Lucas glances up at him.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Just… We’re kids, I guess. In shows and movies and stuff whenever teenagers fall in love, everyone says it’ll never last, y’know? You never hear anyone talking about their, like, spouse or whatever and saying they were childhood sweethearts.” He fidgets with the end of his sleeve, kicking the cabinet. “Mike’s parents met after his dad finished college. Will’s parents got married after high school, had two kids and then they got divorced.”

“Lonnie Byers is a jackass, son,” Charles interrupts, startling a laugh out of Lucas. “Don’t ever compare yourself to someone like him.”

Lucas nods at the ground.

“It’s also just…” He pauses, his voice softening. “She’s white. You should see the way people look at us when we go out together, like we’re both crazy, like we’re contagious, it’s so fucking stupid—”

He cuts himself off, glancing up at his dad. He’s looking at the pan, and he doesn’t react to Lucas’s language.

Charles is quiet for another moment, and Lucas waits. There’s still some batter left in the mixing bowl, but he’s just looking at the pan, staring at the tiny pieces of burnt batter. and Lucas doesn’t think he’s ever seen him look so… contemplative.

He takes a breath before he speaks, looking back at Lucas.

”You know your uncle Jack?”

”…I do,” Lucas says slowly.

“He and his wife met when they were in third grade. Nine years old, I think? Our families lived close by, but we didn’t go to the same school or anything. Obviously.”

Lucas blinks. He hasn’t seen his uncle Jack in a long time, and he hasn’t seen his wife or children in even longer, but he knows them. There are photos of them in the house, pictures from when Lucas was little. His aunt Lindsey is white.

“Right,” he says hesitantly, looking at his dad.

“You know I don’t believe in coincidences,” Charles says abruptly, standing up straight from where he’s leaning against the counter. “Or luck, or soulmates.”

”I know.”

”Jack and Lindsey didn’t get lucky because they fell in love young,” Charles says. “And their love wasn’t easy. Still isn’t.”

Lucas blinks. His eyes sting a little, but he doesn’t know why.

“They had to fight for their love,” Charles says softly. “Their love wasn’t something life just gave them, you know? I feel like thinking of them as soulmates and all that meant to be nonsense takes away everything they gave. They lost friends and family members, they had to move to a different state to get married.”

”This isn’t making me feel better,” Lucas says.

“And it was all worth it,” Charles says pointedly, leaning to meet Lucas’s eyes. “Because they love each other, and they’re happy together. Doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks.”

Lucas’s throat tightens.

“You love this white girl?”

He scoffs, nodding.

“Yeah.”

”And she loves you too?”

Lucas suppresses a smile, looking at the ground bashfully, rubbing his cheeks.

“I think so,” he says softly. “I hope so.”

He thinks so. He remembers how Max used to look at him, how her eyes used to shine. And he sees how she looks now. How, even though she can’t see him, she still smiles absently, turned in his direction while he talks. He notices how she reaches for him. She listens to his heartbeat the same way he used to feel her pulse.

“That’s the kind of love you fight for,” Charles says, his voice soft, but firmer than it usually is. He pauses for a moment before he turns toward Lucas again, meeting his eyes. “Lucas.”

“Dad.”

“My parents weren’t happy when Jack fell in love with Lindsey.” He’s looking at Lucas seriously, like he’s about to grab him by the shoulders and shake him to get his message through. “And Lindey’s parents stopped talking to her.”

Lucas nods, his fingers tightening in a knot, his throat tight again.

“You don’t have to worry about that with us,” Charles says firmly. “You understand me?”

Lucas nods again, blinking tears back.

“And if Max’s family has a problem with it, you tell her that she always has a home here, got it?”

Lucas smiles weakly, his lip quivering a little bit, and he nods, rubbing his cheek again.

“Her mom likes me,” he says quietly.

“Does she?”

Lucas nods once more.

“Well, we’ll have to have them over for dinner sometime.”

Lucas smiles at the ground as his dad pours the rest of the pancake batter in the pan, filling the kitchen with a quiet sizzling.

Lucas’s parents like Max. She’s sweet, and she’s clever, and she’s always got quick one-liners to effectively tease Lucas into making him hide his face and duck his head, pretending he isn’t filled with joy at the sound of his family’s laughter and Max’s giggling.

Dinner at the Sinclairs’ isn’t normally a quiet affair, and it’s no different when Max and her mother join. Susan and Sue bond over the shared names, laughing together about their preferred nicknames, Erica trips Lucas as he’s passing in the kitchen so he stumbles into Max, Charles calls Max the wrong name four times until she’s giggling in anticipation the next time he hums Mmm….

“I swear he’s doing it on purpose,” Lucas says as they’re finding their seats at the table after Charles calls her Maria. Max laughs lightly as she’s sliding into her seat, a hand extended to feel the edge of the table.

“It’s funny,” she says quietly, turning toward him, and he sits next to her, his body turned toward her absently.

“He likes you,” he whispers. He can hear his father laughing in the kitchen, saying something about how he’s more the wife than Sue, and Max’s mom’s laugh sounds a lot like Max’s. Light and joyful and a little childish.

“Do you think?” Max says, matching his volume, leaning toward her. Lucas nods, humming affirmatively, lifting a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. She smiles softly, her eyes flickering.

“Said you’re a real firecracker.”

“That’s a ginger joke.”

“I don’t think it was intended to be,” Lucas says seriously, and Max snorts, her eyes closing as she smiles broadly.

”I like your family,” she says after a moment, her voice soft.

“Yeah?”

”Mhmm. And my mom does too,” she adds, leaning toward him pointedly, nodding almost to herself.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I can tell,” she says, turning her head and searching for Lucas’s hands, her eyes flickering until she reaches tentatively for one, her fingers inching toward Lucas’s. He smiles, watching, turning his hand over so their fingers can lace together.

“I forgot you have heightened senses now,” he says, pretending they’re not holding hands. (It still throws him for a fucking loop, that Max Mayfield wants to hold hands with him.)

“I don’t think I do,” she says, smiling absently as she shakes her head, and Lucas gazes at her.

“I’m telling you, Max, you have spider senses.”

Max rolls her eyes, shaking her head, her fingers tightening on his.

“…She’s been lonely,” she says quietly. Lucas leans closer, listening to her voice that’s hiding under the gentle clamor in the kitchen. “Wayne helps, I mean, obviously, and— and Eddie and Steve come over a lot when Wayne’s working, but she… She had a lot of friends in California before she married Neil, and I think she just…”

She trails off, and Lucas nods even though she can’t see it, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

“…It’s nice to hear her laughing,” Max says, and her mother laughs in the kitchen as if on cue. Max grins.

“I love how much you love your mom,” Lucas says.

“Lame.”

Lucas rolls his eyes.

Max eats more slowly than she used to. Feeling around her plate with her fork, kicking her feet at the ground, her socks scuffing the hardwood, fidgeting absently with Lucas’s fingers under the table. Lucas knows everyone can tell that they’re holding hands, but he can’t even be embarrassed about it, despite the way Erica kicks him teasingly, nudging him closer to Max.

She moves closer to Lucas during dessert, a pie that Susan made with Wayne’s “help.”

“The man can’t bake for the life of him,” she says intently as they sit around the table again. Erica is sitting cross-legged in her seat now, tucked into a comfortable ball, and she looks precious.

Sometimes Lucas is randomly hit with the realization that Erica is his little sister. She’s the same girl that Lucas met in a hospital room, so tiny and squishy and laying perfectly still in Lucas’s arms. The same girl that cried when she scraped her knees and refused to ride a bike unless Lucas was walking alongside her, holding the bike steady. The same girl that slept in Lucas’s room on Christmas Eve, trying to stay awake to catch Santa but falling asleep sprawled on top of Lucas’s comic books.

Erica sees him looking and lifts her middle finger to him. He returns the gesture.

Susan tells the Sinclairs about how she met Lucas. Lucas keeps his eyes down, pretending he doesn’t notice all their teasing stares, shifting away from Max’s elbow poking into his ribs until Susan shifts the teasing to focus on Max.

“Oh, she kept telling me how handsome Lucas is—”

”I told you that in confidence—”

“Nothing you ever tell me is in confidence.”

Lucas elbows Max. She punches his arm.

“Hi there, Madeline!”

”Max.”

“Max, dang it. Next time I’ll remember.”

Lucas rolls his eyes from where he’s standing in the kitchen, shaking his head and suppressing a smile. He said that last time.

“Erica is at her friend Beverly’s house tonight,” Charles is saying as he leads Max into the kitchen, his arm out for her to hold gently as she uses her white cane to tap across the ground, finding the console table and the shoes left by the doorway. The hallway overhead light is too dim for her to find her way, but nobody minds leading her through it. It had taken her some time to finally start asking people for help, but Lucas thinks that she’s found a big enough comfort in the Sinclairs’ house to accept help from any of them. “Sue and I are headed out in just a moment for the fancy dinner Lucas didn’t want to go to.”

“Can you blame me?” Lucas says, glancing over his shoulder at them and setting a plate on the drying rack.

“Honestly, no,” Charles says, leading Max over to the dining table. She’s smiling absently as she feels for a chair and sits, more comfortable in the brightness of the kitchen. “But Sue wants to go, so. Happy wife, happy life.”

Lucas finishes the dishes as his father goes to finish getting ready, and Max waits at the table, tapping her cane on the ground rhythmically, in time with the most recent song she’s begun learning on guitar. Eddie is teaching her. And Mike, sometimes at the same time at the Munsons’ new place, which has become the new hang out spot because Wayne doesn’t complain half as much as Ted. And Eddie can complain about Max’s and Mike’s bickering as much as he likes, but he doesn’t even bother trying to hide his grins when they’re particularly catty toward each other. And everyone, probably all of Hawkins, heard how loud he laughed when Mike told Max, “I’m making a face at you,” and Max responded, “Thank God I can’t see it.”

“Hi, pretty,” Lucas says as he dries his hands, and Max lifts her head, giving him an unimpressed look. “How’re you?”

”Fine,” she says, her voice light, her vacant gaze following him as he crosses the room and leans against the table next to her. “How hard was it to talk your parents into letting me spend the night?”

“Shockingly easy, actually,” Lucas says, gazing at her. Her hair is shorter than it used to be, cropped to just above her shoulders, wavy and feathery, and it looks so nice Lucas kind of wants to shake her by the shoulders. “They love you.”

Max beams, her cheeks flushing a pretty rosy pink, and Lucas tilts his head fondly, his arms crossing over his chest.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Max says after a moment.

“I’m gazing,” he says pointedly, and she sticks her tongue out at him. “Told you you have heightened senses.”

”How’s guitar going?” he asks after a moment, watching her cane tap back and forth steadily.

“I’m better than Mike.”

“Believable.”

”He has no hand-eye coordination,” she says, lips quirking into a smug grin. “I don’t even need it.”

“You’re so cool.”

Max grins.

”Alright, kiddies,” Sue calls as she meanders down the hallway, stumbling and holding Charles’s arm tightly as she adjusts the strap of her high-heel. “We’re headed out for the night.”

Lucas looks up at them as they linger in the kitchen on the way out, grabbing their jackets, and Max turns in their direction.

“We’ll be home late,” Charles calls, waving with his whole arm so Max can see the movement, and Max smiles, tilting her head. “Don’t do anything we wouldn't do!”

“Goodbye,” Lucas calls pointedly just as Max says, “I’ll keep him in line,” and Lucas grins at the sound of his parents’ harmonized laughter.

The door shuts behind them, and Lucas and Max are quiet for a few moments before Lucas looks at her, gazing again.

“…Ice cream?”

”Yup.”

They sit on the dining table together, cross-legged with their knees pressed. Max rocks back and forth as she tells Lucas about guitar lessons with Eddie and Mike, about how Eddie shifts her fingers into place gently, telling her which chords are which. She can play some songs by ear now, listening to Eddie or Mike play before repeating it herself, and Lucas thinks she’s the most amazing person he’s ever met in his life.

She has calluses on her fingertips. Lucas can feel them on his wrist when she tries to find his hand.

”So you like playing guitar,” Lucas says, watching her scrape the last bits of the ice cream out of her bowl.

“I do,” she says, nodding. “It’s nice to have something to do that I don’t need to see for. I’m getting better at tuning my guitar by myself.”

“Heightened senses,” Lucas whispers, and Max makes a face at him, shaking her head.

“I miss skating,” she says after a moment, falling still, and she pauses for a moment before she holds the bowl up toward Lucas. “Any more in here?”

”Nope.”

”So you’ve been watching me search an empty bowl?”

”…I thought you were having fun.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she says, her expression softening with amusement, and she sets the bowl aside, feeling the table before putting it down.

“So you miss skating,” Lucas says, watching Max’s hands fall to her lap, her fingers twisting together. His eyes linger on the faint lines in her skin, the quiet scars that have lingered in spite of the ointment the nurses gave her. Max can’t see them, but Lucas occasionally sees her running her fingertips across them, just slightly raised above her skin.

“Yeah,” she says quietly. Her shoulders hunch uncomfortably, her head tilting, and she looks forlorn, her expression falling. “It was… I don’t know. Free, I guess.”

Lucas hums, listening to her intently, and he draws his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and setting his chin on his knee. Her eyes flicker with the movement, and his silence prompts her to continue.

“I’d just go skating whenever I felt like shit, y’know?” she says, her voice soft. “Just… take off down the road and not look back.”

“Yeah,” Lucas murmurs, looking at her hands. Her fingers are tangled, tightening and loosening, fidgeting like she’s anxious, but Lucas knows she’s not. She fidgets absently, the same way she rocks back and forth, taps her cane, shifts her fingers into guitar chords.

“I miss the wind,” she says, leaning toward Lucas with a smile. “In my hair and stuff. Blew all my worries away.”

She tilts her head, smiling brightly, and Lucas loves how her smile makes her eyes squint at him, loves how her shoulders raise to her ears, loves how she sways to the side. He suppresses the urge to reach out and cradle her face in his hands.

“…You wanna do something?” he asks softly. Her eyes flicker across him.

“Is it something your parents wouldn’t do?”

“Yeah.”

She grins.

Max’s hands are steady on Lucas’s shoulders, fingers holding tightly as they speed down the empty road. She’d laughed as they struggled their way onto the bike, clutching at Lucas’s shoulders and standing on the pegs behind the seat, her head ducked as he started pedalling.

The sun is setting, and it’s like the entire world is glowing golden. Lucas knows Max can’t see everything he can, but his skin feels warm in spite of the tender bite of the wind on the tips of his ears and nose, and he hopes she feels it too. Hopes she knows the sun is beaming down at her.

He hears her over the wind after a little while, when they’ve ridden out of Lucas’s neighborhood, and she’s laughing.

It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.

She sounds breathless, gasping between giggles, and Lucas thinks she might be crying. He can see her in his head, glowing in the sun, cheeks shimmering with tears, her pale eyes fluttering. And when her hands disappear from his shoulders, he risks a glance back at her, just far enough to see her arm stretched out against the blue sky and silver lined clouds. Her hand is relaxed, fingers extended like she’s trying to catch the wind, and her scars stand out in the sunlight.

Lucas faces forward again, turning down a road he knows will be empty, a road that’s lined with wildflowers and overgrown grass and thistles. He bikes faster, and when Max sings to the sky, Lucas’s eyes sting. He blames the wind.

“How was that?” he asks as he helps her get down from the bike. They’re both still breathless, and the sky is darker now, a rich shade of blue that Lucas adores but only ever sees at this hour when the clouds have drifted apart. Max clings to his arm as she stumbles on the pavement, her eyes wide as she searches fruitlessly for shapes in the dark.

“How was that?” Max repeats, holding Lucas’s arm, her fingertips slipping under the hem of his sleeve. She’s smiling, her head tilted up to face him even though she can’t see him, and something about her remembering how tall he is makes his stomach flutter.

Lucas lets the bike fall to the ground, setting his hand over Max’s, and in the dim porch light, he can see that her cheeks are flushed pink from the cold of the evening air.

“That was amazing,” Max says as they start toward the front door. Lucas looks down to make sure she doesn’t stumble over his feet, smiling absently. “I love you.”

Lucas blinks, and his smile fades as he slows to a stop. He looks back up at her, and she’s looking away now, her cheeks darker, her eyes fluttering as her gaze searches the ground like she can sense Lucas looking at her.

Lucas’s throat tightens. Max looks at the ground some more before she finally lifts her head and quirks her eyebrows expectantly. Lucas scoffs, smiling weakly.

“I love you too,” he says softly.

The corner of Max’s mouth curves into a smile.

”…Lame.”

A laugh bursts from his chest, and Max grins.

“Asshole.”

He leads her inside.

She sits on the counter while he prepares dinner, the radio on and crackling. She’s kicking her feet in time with the music, swaying back and forth, and Lucas is humming, and it feels so insanely domestic, so fucking normal, that Lucas feels like he’s breaking some kind of rule. Like this isn’t allowed. Making dinner and listening to the radio.

He looks back at Max as he scoops the chopped broccoli into a bowl to clear the cutting board. She’s got her hands on the edge of the counter, fingers curled around it, her ankles crossed and swinging, the fabric of her sweatpants folding over her thighs. She’d changed before Lucas started cooking, and when she’d emerged from the bathroom wearing a t-shirt of his that went missing a few weeks ago, he thought he might die.

It’s a worn shirt from when he was on the basketball team. Faded dark green with yellow lettering reading HAWKINS HIGH BASKETBALL around a tiger’s face, a bold 08 on the back, oversized and hanging off of her body loosely. She fidgets with the end of it occasionally, twisting the fabric around her fingers.

Lucas kind of wants to ask how much of her wardrobe consists of stolen goods. He’s pretty sure the sweatpants she’s wearing were Steve’s, given the rolled cuffs around her ankles.

He doesn’t say anything.

Max is still quiet when Lucas slides the pan into the oven and twists the timer. The ticking is quiet under the music from the radio, almost inaudible. Lucas leans against the counter across from Max, gazing at her again. Her eyelashes are pale, fluttering as she blinks, and her irises are quivering like she’s searching the tile floor for something. She’s swaying back and forth with the music, and Lucas loves her.

She’s quiet for a few more moments before she tilts her head, sticking her tongue out at him, and Lucas scoffs.

“Spider senses.”

“Whatever.”

She kicks her feet in the air. She’s wearing striped socks that look hand-made, knit carefully from soft yarn, tucked under the fabric of her sweatpants clumsily.

“I like this song,” Max says softly.

“I don’t know it,” Lucas says, and Max clicks her tongue at him, shaking her head.

“Uncultured.”

Lucas snorts, laughing softly, and then he steps closer, touching Max’s knee so she knows he’s closer before he reaches for one of her hands. She lifts her head, turning her hand over to hold his fingers.

“Come here,” Lucas says softly.

“Where?”

“Right here.”

He pulls at her hand gently, tugging her so she slides off the counter, and she lets him, head tilted curiously as she stands in front of him, holding his hand. Lucas leads her hand to rest on his shoulder slowly, gazing at her face, at her absent smile, before he slides his hand over her arm gently. Her head tilts the other way, and Lucas smiles fondly, swaying with her as he slips his hand to her waist, holding her carefully.

Her other hand hovers in the air hesitantly, and Lucas gazes at the freckle on her wrist before he takes her hand gently. Their fingers twist naturally, turning to hold each other lightly, and Max’s fingertips are cold like they always are, but Lucas doesn’t mind. They sway together slowly, stepping to the side, and Lucas’s hand slides around her waist to press against the small of her back gently. Max’s smile widens, and she scoffs.

”What?” Lucas whispers, smiling. She shakes her head, and then lets it fall forward, her forehead pressing to Lucas’s chin. Lucas smiles, leaning to press a kiss just under her hairline, listening to her sigh.

“Nothing,” she whispers back, and her breath is warm where it finds itself on Lucas’s neck, and Lucas’s eyes sting again as they sway together. His breath shudders as he exhales, and Max’s hand slides over the top of his back to wrap around his neck, holding him close as she steps to the side, following his lead. They’re in a small space, trapped between the two counters, but when Lucas closes his eyes, their shared space feels limitless.

Max starts to hum along with the music before she’s murmuring the words under her breath, and Lucas thinks her voice could make any song sound beautiful, could make any song his favorite.

And the songbirds are singing Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you Like never before

Lucas opens his eyes and steps back, gently pushing Max and lifting her hand to prompt her into a twirl, and she smiles brightly, her eyes squeezing shut as she spins, her hair flying around her head before she falls back into his arms with another sigh.

She giggles as he dances with her, spinning her in place and holding her by her waist as he dips her, her hands holding his shoulders.

“You’ve been working out,” she says when he lifts her up again, hugging her waist as they sway. His stomach flutters, and he grins.

“You can tell?”

”Yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

Lucas laughs softly, lifting her into the air and spinning with her as she hugs his neck tightly.

They go to the living room after eating, and Max holds his arm to herself as they walk through the hall, her cane left leaning against the dining table. He puts on a baseball game.

Max likes baseball more than she used to. She listens to the commentary silently, tilting her head like she’s following the players in her mind, and Lucas loves baseball, but he loves her more. He’s mesmerized by her, gazing at how the glow of the television screen makes her eyes shine. Her fingers are pressing into his upper arm gently, squeezing absently, replacing her constant fidgeting with the end of her shirt.

“You’re supposed to be watching the game,” she says after a while, smiling and turning her head toward him. His face burns.

“You know you’re unsettling sometimes?”

”You’re the one staring, stalker.”

“I feel like you holding onto me at all times is the equivalent of me staring at you all the time.”

She blinks, her hands pausing on his bicep, and her mouth spreads into a begrudging smile.

”Shut up.”

He giggles, pulling his arm out of her grasp and reaching to put it around her shoulders. She lets him, hands hovering in the air before she leans into him, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her hands away. Lucas lets his head fall to rest on hers, pressing a kiss to her temple. She exhales, and when Lucas glances at her face, her eyes are closed.

Her hand finds his after a while, fingers twisting to hold two of his in her hand, and he sighs, brushing his thumb over her skin gently. He feels Max’s breath steady during the sixth inning, and he smiles, letting his cheek squish against the top of her head. Her hand falls lax in his, and he holds it in place, lacing their fingers gently. The game turns to static in his ears, muffled and indistinct as his breath slows.

When he wakes up, the television has been turned off. The living room is lit up by the dim light in the stairwell, and Lucas squints around the room. The television remote is on the coffee table, out of his reach, and there’s a blanket over him and Max, gently placed so it’s not in their faces. Lucas sighs, letting his head fall to the back of the sofa and closing his eyes. The ceiling creaks where his parents’ bedroom is.

Max shifts closer. They’re tangled now, facing each other with their legs entwined, and Max’s hand is resting on Lucas’s chest, fingers spread like she’s trying to feel his heartbeat. Her face is tucked against his shoulder, and she nuzzles against him as she exhales slowly.

Lucas has butterflies. He suppresses a smile and lifts a hand to Max’s, setting it over hers as gently as possible.

November 1986

It’s been raining for the past few days. The streets are practically flooded, streams of rainwater cascading alongside the curbs and drenching lawns and gardens. The constant shower of it turns to white noise in the back of every conversation, and Lucas finds that he doesn’t mind it.

It’s a steady sound, comforting and warm even though it’s freezing out, especially in the wind and blocked out sunlight. It’s nearly dark out even though it’s barely even four PM, the clouds grey and angry. There might be lightning later, and as much as Lucas loves the rain, he doesn’t love thunder. Nobody in the Party does. Sometimes during thunderstorms they have slumber parties at Steve’s, all gathered into the excessively large living room just so they don’t have to flinch and shiver on their own.

He holds his jacket over his head as he runs across the parking lot after swinging the door shut, his feet splashing in the rain gathered on the pavement. His jeans are spotted with rain when he makes it to the front doors of the hospital, and he wipes his hands on his legs, shaking his jacket out. The receptionist looks up at him as he wipes his face clean of the rain that managed to get under his jacket, and he gives her a friendly smile as he passes by.

It’s warm in the lobby. He exhales, shivering as he adjusts to it, and he looks around. There aren’t many people here, and it’s quiet. Lucas can hear the distant beeping of machines, clicking of shoes on the vinyl flooring, the scratching of the receptionist’s pen. A woman whispering to her child, reading aloud a picture book from one of the tables in the waiting room. Lucas drapes his jacket over his arm as he searches the room until he spots a flash of red hair.

Her head is down, her headphones around her neck, and she’s holding her cane in her hands, fidgeting with the bandana that’s been tied around the handle, twisting the purple fabric around her fingers. Her knee is bouncing up and down, and even though her vacant gaze is downcast, Lucas can see that her eyebrows are drawn together anxiously.

Her head lifts when Lucas gets closer, her eyebrows furrowing confusedly, and she tilts her head, eyes narrowing.

“Hey, Spider-Girl,” Lucas says lightly, sitting in the chair next to her. She blinks, her expression softening with amusement.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her knee slowing to a stop as she turns toward him.

“Seeing you,” he says, setting his jacket over the armrest of his chair and crossing a leg over his lap. “Knew you had an appointment today, so.”

“‘S just a check-up,” she says, mumbling a little bit, and she faces forward again, twisting the bandana around her finger.

“You hate check-ups.”

She’s quiet, tugging on a stray thread on the corner of the bandana, and Lucas waits.

“…I don’t need a babysitter.”

He looks at her, setting his elbow on the armrest between them, and their upper arms press against each other.

“I’m not babysitting you,” he says softly. “I care about you.” She doesn’t say anything, and he exhales, stifling a sigh. “Eddie goes with Robin and Steve to their appointments.”

“That’s different,” she mutters.

”Not really.” He watches as she twists the thread around her finger until her skin flushes red and then releases it, watches as the color fades. “I can go if you don’t want me here,” he says after a few quiet moments. “But I was thinking I could drive you home so you don’t have to wait for the bus in the rain.”

And it’ll be dark out by the time Max’s appointment is finished. He doesn’t say that.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

She’s quiet again, and then she shakes his head.

He smiles, leaning to let his head fall against her shoulder, and Max sighs, finally releasing the thread to reach up to Lucas’s arm, holding him tightly. Her fingertips are cold even through the fabric of Lucas’s shirt.

“Miss Mayfield?”

They both lift their heads at the sound of the nurse’s voice. Max’s hand tightens on Lucas’s arm, and she inhales slowly, calmly.

“We’re ready for you now.”

Max stands unsteadily as she exhales, and Lucas hesitates.

“Do you want me to wait here?”

She pauses, and the nurse waits patiently, hovering in the entrance to the waiting room, and the rain keeps falling. And then Max shakes her head and holds her hand out to Lucas, her fingers trembling a little bit. Lucas takes it, lacing their fingers and then standing as he pulls her hand to rest on his arm as they follow the nurse.

The rain lessens a little bit after Max’s appointment, drizzling as they cross the parking lot to Lucas’s car. It’s an old thing, the pain scuffed and uneven, bought from one of Charles’s friends, but Lucas loves it. It has character.

Max shivers as Lucas starts the car, and he takes off his jacket, passing it to her silently, draping it over her lap. She exhales shakily, setting her cane down at her feet before he holds Lucas’s jacket to herself, drawing it to her chest.

“You okay?” Lucas asks as he pulls out of the parking lot, the street lit up by his headlights. She sighs.

”I hate hospitals.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“I’m always tired after appointments,” she says, pulling the jacket to her chin and lowering her face to it even though the fabric is damp. “Like… exhausted.”

“You can rest when I get you home,” Lucas says, glancing at her and ignoring the urge to reach over and set his hand on her leg. “Dinner and a game.”

“Can I ask you a question?” she asks abruptly, turning in his direction, and he blinks.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

She’s quiet, and Lucas glances at her again. She’s looking up, out the window, watching the streetlights go by, flashing blurring in her vision.

“Why do you wait for me?” she asks finally.

He blinks, pausing before he glances at her.

“What do you mean?” he asks softly.

“Just…” She sniffles, and he glances at her again, his eyebrows drawing together in concern as he sees that her cheeks are shining.

“Wait, woah—”

He pulls over, turning on the hazards, and Max lets out a wet laugh, wiping her face.

”What’s going on?” Lucas asks as he stops the car, unbuckling his seatbelt to turn to face her, leaning over the center console. “What’s wrong?”

She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to stop crying, rubbing her face harshly, and Lucas wants to touch her, to hold her hand and wipe her cheeks.

“Just…” she tries again, exhaling sharply, and she turns toward him too, holding Lucas’s jacket to herself. “I’ve taken so long.”

“Taken so long,” Lucas repeats, trying to piece it together, looking at her face. Her cheeks shimmer in the light of the passing cars. “For what? What do you mean?”

She exhales sharply, letting out a frustrated huff, and she pauses, rubbing her cheeks again like she’s trying to ground herself. Her knees turn toward Lucas, and she’s quiet for another moment before she speaks.

“I did everything I could to push you out of my life,” she says softly, almost whispering. “And you— you bought me a ticket to your basketball game.”

”Max,” Lucas says quietly, leaning a little bit closer and gazing as she tilts her head.

“I ignored you, and I was rude to you, and I tried to pretend you didn’t fucking exist, Lucas,” she says shakily, her eyes glistening more than usual as tears flood them. “I tried to— to pretend we never even happened, and I—”

“Max,” Lucas interrupts, finally touching her.

He sets his hand on her forearm gently, and she doesn’t startle. Doesn’t pull away or jump. She leans into the touch, lifting her hand to catch his and hold it in place on her arm.

And Lucas’s chest aches. He holds her tenderly, tracing her knuckles with his other hand, gazing at her as she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Why would you wait for me?” she cries.

Lucas’s eyes burn. He blinks his tears away, leaning down to bring her hand to his face, pressing her knuckles against his forehead as he exhales.

“Why wouldn’t I wait for you?”

She shakes her head, sniffling, shifting her fingers so she’s holding onto his, and he reaches across the center console to touch her head, brushing her hair back and cradling her skull.

“I’m just…”

“You are not just anything, Max Mayfield.”

She lets out a laugh, her hand tightening on his, and she falls toward him, still giggling like she’s delirious.

“Lucas, I…”

”Listen to me,” he whispers, leaning forward, nudging his nose against her temple before he kisses it gently. She leans into it, pulling at his hand, and they’re both hovering over the center console, their faces close enough that Lucas can feel her breath on his neck. “You listening?”

She nods, turning her face into his neck. He feels her eyelashes flutter against his skin.

He squeezes his eyes shut when they sting again, and his voice shakes as he speaks, and he speaks anyway.

“Everything about you is worth waiting for.”

She presses her face into his neck with a soft soft. Her tears are wet on his skin, and he aches, and he aches, and he aches.

“Max.”

“Why me?”

“Why not you?” he asks frustratedly, pulling away to look at her, reaching to wipe her cheeks as gently as he can even as she clings to his hand. “Hm?”

”You’re you,” she says adamantly, her eyes shut as she lets Lucas touch her face. “You’re so cool.”

He lets out a sound that’s so confused that Max giggles again, shaking her head and leaning into Lucas’s hand.

“You’re cool,” she says again, adamant. “You’re— You’re a jock, and you’re smart and funny and you could have fucking anyone you want, Lucas, you deserve so much more than me—”

”Stop,” Lucas breathes, holding her face, caressing her. “Stop.”

She exhales shakily, shuddering, her eyes closed. The raindrops on the windows sparkle in the passing car lights, and they’re shining on her face. Her tears reflect the lights on her skin, and it makes him think of the stars in the sky, beautiful in a way nothing made by humans can ever replicate.

“I want you,” Lucas whispers. “You’re fucking cool, Max, and you’re funny and smart and beautiful and brave and kinda scary sometimes—”

She interrupts with a little laugh, ducking her head. Lucas smiles fondly, touching her chin and making her look up again.

“You’re so amazing,” he says softly. “And I would wait for you for the rest of my fucking life I had to.”

She exhales, her eyebrows furrowing like she wants to argue, and she lifts a hand to hold Lucas’s wrist.

“I love you,” Lucas murmurs, pressing his forehead to Max’s. “I’ll wait for you as long as you need, okay? I never got— I never got tired of waiting for you.” His voice wavers as his throat tightens, and his eyes burn. “I— I care about you, okay? And you deserve to be cared for, Max, okay?”

His voice breaks, cracking in a way that usually would embarrass him, but Max just nods, her fingers tightening around his wrist.

“Okay?” he says again, looking at her.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay, okay.”

“Okay,” he whispers back.

He brushes his thumb over her cheek gently, wiping away another tear, and he was never raised to believe in things like luck, but he somehow feels that the stars aligned for this. For him holding Max Mayfield so close while the world passes them by, while the rain falls around them even as they keep each other warm.

“Luc.”

Lucas smiles. Max is the only one that calls him that.

“Max.”

“Where’s your face?”

Lucas scoffs, letting go of her to take her hand and lead it to his face. Her fingertips are colder than her palms, and Lucas suppresses a shiver as she holds him, lifting her other hand to cradle his face between them. She stays there for a moment, breathing his air, and he lets her.

And then she’s feeling him, her fingertips dancing over his skin, tracing lines so light they tickle a little bit. Her head is tilted curiously even though her eyes are almost closed, just slivers of her pale irises visible under her lashes.

She traces his cheeks, his jaw, caresses his chin like it’s something beautiful, something marvellous. She runs a fingertip down the bridge of his nose, her lips twitching into the smallest smile Lucas has ever seen, and then she’s smoothing her thumbs over his eyebrows, her eyes fluttering, her irises quivering.

She tilts her head the other way, her fingers brushing over his forehead and temples before she traces the bridge of his nose again, her smile widening. Her fingertips round the end of his nose, dragging the gentle line down over his lips, and he gazes at her.

She blinks a few times, biting her lip like she’s shy as she traces Lucas’s mouth, and then she’s drawing him in, pressing her fingertips under his chin to make him lift it, and Lucas has butterflies. They’re fucking swarming, fluttering so much he feels a little dizzy.

Max’s lips don’t land square on Lucas’s, but he doesn’t care. He can feel her smile against his mouth, and he thinks it feels the way the stars look. Fucking cosmic.

It’s a tentative kiss. Hesitant and chaste, barely even there, but Lucas can die happy now. The earth could open up and swallow him whole and he would go smiling.

Max exhales softly, and Lucas forces his eyes open to look at her. Her eyelashes are fluttering, and her cheeks are flushed with color, and her hands are shaking where they’re holding Lucas’s face.

She smiles hesitantly.

“…I’m gonna need you to react out loud.”

Lucas lets out a wet laugh, his face lighting up with a smile, and he reaches up to hold her hands in place, leaning forward to nudge their noses together.

“Sorry,” he laughs weakly. “Woah.”

She laughs lightly, closing squeezing her eyes shut and nudging their noses again, her palms pressing to his cheeks.

She falls quiet, brushing the ends of their noses together, and Lucas closes his eyes as he exhales, brushing his thumb over the side of her hand.

“I don’t wanna make you wait anymore,” she whispers. Lucas shakes his head, his nose bumping into hers.

“You’re not making me do anything,” he murmurs, lifting his other hand to touch her face. Her cheek is warm. “Just… Max.”

”Luc.”

”…Take your time,” he whispers softly, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Okay?”

She laughs quietly, nodding again, and Lucas only knows she’s crying when he feels her tears on his fingers again. He murmurs to her, shifting to set his elbows on the center console as he holds her face. The sides of his hands rest on the sides of her neck, and he can feel her pulse.

And it’s just as miraculous as it is every time Lucas feels it. This tiny, beating proof that Max is alive. The steady drumming against his skin that feels like solid fucking proof that there’s something above the sky, that there’s good in the world that’s worth fighting for.

Max nods again, moving closer, pushing herself up in her seat as she draws him into another kiss. It’s clumsy, and it’s graceless, and Lucas’s chest feels tight. He cradles the back of Max’s head, squeezing his eyes shut and furrowing his eyebrows, and he kind of feels like he’s going to fucking explode, like he’s going to burst into a mess of guts and butterflies flying free. Max’s hand grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him in harder, and then she’s suddenly smiling against his mouth again, grinning brightly, and her teeth are smooth against Lucas’s lips. He laughs lightly, tilting his head. Their noses press into each other’s cheeks, and Max reaches down to fumble with her seatbelt before she throws it aside with Lucas’s jacket and leans toward Lucas, wrapping her arms around his neck.

He laughs, pulling her closer, and they’re both giggling childishly as she struggles over the center console, as he gathers her into his lap and hugs her waist tightly. She holds his face in her hands as she settles, melting against him, and he’s fucking breathless, like he’s drowning in it.

“God,” he exhales when they part, gasping. She smooths her fingers over his cheeks and lets her head fall forward, her forehead pressing to the bridge of his nose. Her breath shudders in her chest. She’s shaking. ”Okay?”

She nods, nudging their noses together, her fingers brushing over the shell of Lucas’s ear lightly.

“Will you take me home?” she whispers.

“Of course.”

“Will you stay tonight?”

Lucas runs his hands over her waist, nodding.

“Of course.”

She exhales.

“Will you kiss me goodnight?”

He smiles, his eyes stinging again, and he brushes his nose against hers, shivering as she trails her fingertips over the sides of his neck.

“As many times as you want.”

She’s smiling when she kisses him again, and he can feel her breath on the skin of his face. Their heartbeats synchronize, and her fingertips press into his pulse like she’s looking for it, for the proof that they’re here, hidden from the sky and still glowing like the sun. The proof that they’re more than everything they’ve been through, more than the scars on their skin and the whites of their eyes and their bad dreams. The proof that they’re worth fighting for.

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectre @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme (comment to added or removed!!)

♡ buy me a coffee

#babies #lumax #lumax fic #lumax endgame #max mayfield #max mayfield fanfic #lucas sinclair #lucas sinclair fanfic

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yourlocaltrashcan657 · 4 months ago

Text

~| Jean Kirstein x Reader |~

“We got mail.?” Y/N asked to herself as she passed around three more envelopes to Mikasa, Armin and Eren.

”Who’s sending us mail?” Eren asked as he opened it to reveal a few gold coins. “Woah! Money!”

”It’s from Mr Hannes! He said, ‘You kids are still young so here’s some money from my most recent salary. I don’t know when it will arrive to you but when it does spend it at the market.’” Armin read out on the letter he received.

“I’m surprised his drunk ass didn’t write the letter 4 separate times..” Y/N said.

The group smiled at the recognisable handwriting before Eren handed his money to Y/N.

”Here you go Little Sister! Spend as much of it as you want, as your big brother, I shall provide for you!” Eren said proudly.

”Technically it’s Mr Hannes who just provided for us.” Mikasa bluntly said as she handed her money to Y/N as well.

”You guys should be keeping all of this as a part of your savings! Like me and Armin-“ Y/N began scolding before Armin handed her a few of his coins too.

”As much as we appreciate the gift from Mr Hannes, we don’t have time or space to keep this. I’ll just buy a book with whatever I kept.” Armin said before leaving to attend to Jean’s needs.

Mikasa, Eren and Y/N stayed behind and talked amongst one another about their upcoming Training Corps mission.

”We might head to Trost.” Mikasa stated.

”I might buy some things from there!” Y/N exclaimed excitedly.

”I’ll do your work for you Y/N! You can sneak out before Shadis sees you alright?” Eren asked.

”Okay!” Y/N responded happily. Quickly after, Jean approached the table and had a hand against his hip.

”Armin told me you guys got money, hope you know how to shop at a market Eren. Trost is far much more ‘advanced’ than you.” Jean teased.

Eren scoffed at Jeans attempts to taunt him before smirking and crossing his arms over his chest.

”I’m actually not going to the market to spend. I gave my money to my sister since I’m just a great older brother.” Eren so called ’flexed’.

Turning his head to Y/N, Jean saw the excited look she had on her face before smirking.

”Say, Trost is a big place, how about you get a travel guide to help you shop Y/N?” Jean joked.

”I’m sure you’ll be able to help me Jean.” Y/N said causing Jean to be shocked as he started stuttering and blushing.

”W-well, I actually have a l-lot of work and I c-can’t sneak out..” Jean murmured as he rubbed his nape nervously.

”That’s okay! Eren can do your work.” Y/N replied as the colour from Erens face drained.

”But I said I’ll do yours!” Eren yelled unhappily.

”I’ll help you.” Mikasa whispered.

”It’s settled then! Jean and I can go to the market in secret whilst you two do our work. I owe you guys one.” Y/N explained as they all got up to go to sleep.

The next day was bright and sunny whilst the Training Corps Cadets walked through the streets of Trost.

”Trost is so much more cleaner than Shiganshina..” Eren mumbled. “But it’s not like it’s greater than Wall Maria.”

”It’s more.. civilised.” Armin responded as he watched Y/N and Jean sneak away. “Where are those two going?”

”Probably on a date.” Connie suggested as they all stopped after reaching their destination.

“Hey! No way would I let that Horse Face date my sister.” Eren exclaimed angrily as he faced Connie.

”I don’t blame Connie for saying that, those two stare at each other so googly eyed when the other one isn’t looking.” Sasha said as Eren gasped.

”You can beat him up after, Eren. Let’s get this shit done with first.” Connie mumbled as he lifted crates only for it to collapse on him straight after.

Meanwhile, Jean and Y/N squeezed through a tiny alleyway and into the Market Street.

”I’m kinda well known in these streets so don’t be surprised if I have to talk to a lot of people.” Jean said with a smirk on his face.

“Let’s go then, I wanna see what there is to buy.” Y/N replied as she pulled on his hand and dragged him into the busy crowd.

Jean blushed at the sudden contact. Her hands were just so soft and delicate like a doll. No wonder he fell in love at first sight, just like many other cadets.

”This dress looks quite nice…” Y/N mumbled as she felt the fabric and laid it nicely against herself. “What do you think, Jean?”

”What.. oh y-yeah! It’d look fantastic on you.” Jean stuttered as he watched you pay for it. Handing over the money, the ladies at the stand kept eyeing Jean.

”Say… aren’t you Jean Kirstein?” One of the older ladies asked.

”Yeah I am.” Jean laughed off. “I’m currently out shopping with Y/N as her tour guide.”

”My my! How much you’ve grown since we last saw you.” Another lady praised. “And what a beautiful lady you have with you!”

“Thank you.” Y/N giggled quietly at their compliments. “We better get going to the next stands.”

”R-right.” Jean stuttered as he followed straight after you, his hand on your back.

”I think he’s found himself true love..” the First Lady daydreamed as she slumped in her chair, smiling at the two.

”Do tell his mother that he’s arrived, with a girl too!” A woman informed her child who was working but quickly left.

Walking through the crowd, Y/N walked off towards a bakery and informed Jean that she’d wait in line whilst he looked for something with the money she gave him.

Wandering past the stalls, he stared upon a box of accessories which would suit Y/N but quickly put it down after he heard a few yells behind him.

”Jean?!” A voices yelled out from a group of boys as they approached him.

”Jacques.” Jean said as he faced him. “Good to see you.”

”I thought you joined the military, what happened? You failed?” Jacques teased. Along with the others, his collar had been pushed upwards making him look stupid, along with his hair being spiked up. His hands were deep into his pockets and shoes were covered in mud.

”Actually I’m here with someone as a part of training. We… were given permission to leave for a while..” Jean lied.

“So you decide to buy women’s accessories?” Arthur, another boy, asked as the trio laughed.

”Haha, very funny. I was buying it for her so if you excuse me-“ Jean begin to say as he moved to walk away.

”Her?” Lucas asked. “Show us this lady your hanging out with.”

“I’d rather not..” Jean mumbled angrily.

”What? Is Mamas little boy too afraid to show us his little girlfriend?” Jacques teased before Jean showed them towards the bakery.

”Where did she..” Jean mumbled as he looked into the large window.

”Jean!” Y/N’s voice called out from the distance, quickly approaching them. “I got us pastries since we’ve been walking for so long, I thought you’d be hungry.”

Jean gratefully took the food before looking at the trio beside him, moving closer to Y/N. Their mouths hung open as blush covered their cheeks.

”Who are these people?” Y/N asked as she looked up at him.

”These are some of my neighbours. Let’s get going now shall we?” Jean asked as he walked beside Y/N, smirking at the trio that gaped at them.

”How did he get a girlfriend in less than two years..?” Jacques asked as he dug his hands into his pockets.

”I bet he hasn’t told his dad or mom yet, they’d be furious.” Arthur chuckled as they headed towards Jean’s house.

Walking uphill, Y/N and Jean talked about their past lives as children whilst being interrupted by other people who quickly ran off like the others.

”I’d like to see your house, Jean.” Y/N said, as Jean stumbled on his own feet.

”I don’t know, maybe my mom won’t be home or she won’t have been expecting us so-“ Jean mumbled embarrassingly.

”you said it was along these roads, right? Let’s go!” Y/N exclaimed as he grabbed his hand and began running off despite not knowing the location. Listening to Jean, they turned multiple corners before reaching a party filled house.

”Woah. My mom never has big parties at our house, so why is it filled with people?” Jean asked to himself as he pushed open the unlocked door.

Inside were tons of neighbours who sipped on beverages or ate well cooked food. Making their way through the crowd, Jean was suddenly pulled into a hug as multiple of his dads friends greeted him.

”Long time no see Jean! You were so small since we last saw you and now you’re a grown man with a chick!” One of the guys mentioned.

”W-who?! Y/N? We’re not dating..” Jean whispered embarrassed by the comment as blush spread across his face.

”Huh? So what’s this party for? All of the street markets were yapping on about you two lovebirds.” Another guy mentioned.

”I-I was only showing her around!” Jean stuttered. “Where is she by the way.?”

Meanwhile in the kitchen, Y/N was standing with Jean’s mom and a lot of other women as they praised her.

”I’m so glad my Jean-boy found someone he likes!” Jean’s mom cooed as the others watched the tall male enter.

”Mom!” Jean exclaimed, surprised.

”Jean-boy! I was just meeting Y/N. Such a lovely darling she is.” She said.

”We better get going now.!” Jean replied as he grabbed onto Y/N hand whilst taking her bags.

”But we just got here.” Y/N whispered to him.

”We can sneak to my garden.” Jean whispered back as he lead them out quickly, after saying goodbye to his mother.

Climbing over the fence, Y/N and Jean sat side by side on the flat surface as they stared into the late evening sky.

”I’m glad we spent the day together.” Y/N mumbled as she turned to him.

”Yeah. Did anyone uh, say anything to you?” Jean asked as he rubbed his nape.

”Not really… Jean-boy.” Y/N teased as Jean choked on his own spit. Reaching into her bag, Y/N pulled out a small box. “I wanted to give you something.”

Handing over the box, Jean opened it to reveal a necklace along with a ring to go with it.

”Y-Y/N you didn’t have to!” Jean murmured as he looked at her.

”But I wanted to.” Y/N replied as he grabbed the accessories. Carefully she placed the ring on the necklace as a charm before tying it around Jean’s neck. “It looks nice, I got one too.”

Turning to face Y/N, he saw the same necklace and ring around her neck as she fiddled with it gently. Facing towards the sunset, Y/N rested her head on Jeans shoulder as she too stared off into the distance.

Bonus Scene:

”Eren you can’t keep waiting for them to return.” Mikasa said as she put down a crate. “It’s only been an hour.”

”Fine I’ll do some work” Eren grumbled.

later that day

“Eren were eating lunch now.” Mikasa stated.

”I’m waiting for them to come back, they’ve been gone for a while that I’m getting concerned.” Eren said.

even later

“Eren, we have to file what we’ve sorted on the papers.” Mikasa said.

”When that Horse-Face gets back, he and I are gonna have a big fight. He probably lost Y/N.” Eren yelled.

“Maybe if you stopped worrying about those two and realised your fly was down, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Armin interrupted as the group started laughing at a struggling Eren.

#aot x y/n #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschstein #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #yandere jean #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan #attack on titan fic #x female reader #aot x female reader

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popcornforone · 6 months ago

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Bea-ch Day

A Frankie Morales Fan Fic

Ever the person to get completely side tracked from what I should be writing, when new content drops. We finally got the Corona adverts (other beers are available obviously) but the character has no name. However in this mini advert, he looked so Frankie (the main one is a mix of Javi G & Tim {I’ve almost combusted}) but I automatically had the perfect idea for a short sweet fic. So happy Frankie Friday peoples.

Synopsis:- You & Frnakie has a beach day & a cook out with your friends & family.

Word count:-1860

Warnings:- alcohol, mild swearing & innuendo & things being mentioned not appropriate for kids ears, pregnancy & mentions of sex but none actually happening. See it’s just fluffy & sweet this.

Thanks for the read peoples. I hope you all enjoy this.

“Mama mama” you hear echo down the beach. You had just topped up your sun screen on your arms when you heard the noise.

“What is it bumble bee?” You reply putting on your over the top beach hat which is so big. Your 4 year old comes bouncing up the beach & is pulling at your long floaty sundress that is covered in sunflowers. She’s in a yellow bathing suit. Her hair as thick & brown as her dad’s. She got your eyes though which your husband is very happy about.

“Look what I found” in her clammy little hand is a seashell, so you drop down to her level, your back aches straight away.

“Wow” you say enthusiastically & hold it. “This is a seashell, but it’s a special one”

“Is it?” Your daughter jumps about excitedly. Her hands trying to clap her hands. “Why?”

“Well if you close your eyes & are quiet when you put this next to your ear you can hear the sea & if it whistles you can make a wish.” You say with your eyes beaming back at her.

“A wishing shell, like a wishing well cool” she grabs it back out of your hand & then runs a few yards further along the beach. “Look daddy , look daddy look, it’s a wishing shell” her daddy, your husband, is wearing a dark blue beach shirt with a white kind of floral pattern on, he’s got stone coloured shorts on & his sunnys are in his hair, as he tends to the cooking the barbecue with a friend.

“A wishing shell” strong arms lift your daughter up into the air & spin her around as she giggles. “Ahhh I’ve heard of those, be sure to listen to a whistle” his princess comes first even before any food preparations, & more importantly to you any missions.

“I’m keeping it daddy”

“Yes you are Bea & we can put it on your bedroom shelf until your wish comes true” he puts her down on the ground giving her a big sloppy kiss.

“Will you make sandcastles with me daddy?”

“After lunch bumble bee, go get Marc & Jo, tell them to come out of the sea” your 4 year old is so worldly wise. Beatrice (Bea for short) has been brought up by the two of you to understand the world is a big bright but also bemusing place. She’s 4 going on 24 for sure.

You watch her run off to go get the two boys both older than her & you slowly walk over to your husband & get a nice cold cola out of the ice box. You rest your head on his shoulders.

“Was worried for a millisecond that you weren’t going to play along Frankie” you whisper in his ear & hand him a cold corona that you also got out of the ice box.

“I’d never break her heart, we just need to know what she wishes for”

“True” you softly kiss the side of his face & ruffles that hair. It’s going a bit crazy today. Unkept but you like it like that.

“What if she wishes for a brother or sister & it’s not the right gender?” Frankie questions as he turned to you, his hand glides over your dress. your 7 month baby bump showing. It’s taken a while for you to conceive your second, you’d given up trying after 2 years but then you got lucky. This September Baby will be loved & cherished just like you both will do anything for Bea. You were told you could find out the gender but much like with your daughter you both decided not to.

“Well maybe we could work on getting her another one” you say. A twinkle in your eye matches Frankie’s smirk.

“This squishy was hard enough to get beautiful, but I’d be more than up for trying again”

“Of course he would” Pope shouts as he & his two step boys & your daughter walk up nearer the beach to you. Everyone’s here for the annual group cook out you have every year. Frankie, Bea & you & the dog Mylo moved to the sandy beaches & keys of Florida 2 years ago, & this cook out that you do has finally come to it being your turn so that Frankie can have all his guys back together & they can remember their late captain. You’ve still never asked about that mission, you just are there to rub Frankie’s back at 3am sometimes when he has nightmares from it. It’s not so regular anymore but you can still sense his sorrow every now & then.

“Pope” he shouts back sarcastically & Bea comes & grabs you.

“What just saying, when you guys used to stay at ours we could hear the bed creek from our room”

“Pope there’s kids here” you say. almost all the guys have had their own kids or met women with kids already that there’s now a lot of you at this cook out.

“Thought you said they need to be worldly wise” Pope says.

“He has a point” you playfully hit Frankie & then so does Bea. “Hey” she giggles & then kisses your cheek.

“Bea only mama is allowed to hit daddy okay”

“I’ll bet” says pope. You roll your eyes as Frankie giggles.

“Come on Bea let’s get you some food.” You lift her up & take her to her seat at the table & bring across her favourite Crisps & a hot dog.

The whole afternoon is brilliant. Everyone catches up & has fun & played with everyone’s kids. It’s like you all just saw each other yesterday. You sit on the sand, with Bea building a sandcastle, she starts to rub her eyes feeling a little tired. She’s been running about all day with her friends trying to keep the pace with kids running in & out of the crystal clear sea who are twice her age.

“No don’t rub your eyes bumble bee, you’ll get sand in them” you say as Frankie comes to look at what you’re doing.

“Wow you built that with mama Bea”

“Yea daddy look” she points & Frankie sits next to her.

“Ahh you’ve still got one more bucket to go though” he says seeing one upside down. He picks up the child spade. “Ready for the magic tap?” Bea claps excitedly.

“Okay”

“Good, mama can count as well”

“1, 2, 3” the three of you say in unison as Frankie taps the bucket & then pulls it off the sand to show the completed sand castle.

“Wow” say Bea. Then Frankie grabs her & picks her up.

“Come on bumble bee let’s fly you too the sea to get some water to fill up the moat”

“Weeeeeeee tooo the seaaaaa” she screams with laughter as Frankie makes her fly like a bird under his arm & they both laugh. You sit there on the sand looking at your world, running down the beach having just such a fun & simple time. Not a care in the world. The sun is out but it’s not to hot & you’ve just been you all day. Amongst friends & very happy just chilling watching everyone you love get along. You rub your bump & whisper to it.

“This is your world my squishy, your mama, daddy & Bea can’t wait to meet you” it then kicks back at you & you beam. If anyone sees your eyes filling up you can say it’s from the lowering sun but it’s actually just your emotions at how perfect your life finally is & how good today has been.

Bea is tucked up in bed as Frankie kisses her head.

“You gonna fall to sleep” he says as he hands her, her favourite cuddly toy to sleep with.

“Yes daddy me & bob are going to dream” Bob is ugly bumblebee toy that one of your work friends got you when you had the baby, but it means the world to your own little Bea. No matter how hideous it is now.

“You’re going to dream” you say as you tuck her hair behind her ear. “Dream of what”

“A castle made of hot dogs” she reply’s which makes Frankie laughs. You softly smile.

“Wow now that would be a dream”

“With a massive boat”

“She means moat” Frankie whispers.

“Wow thats would be amazing.”

“Do you dream mama” Bea asks as you sit in the end of the bed.

“Every night”

“what of”

“Oooh we’d be here far too long Bea & you have had a long tiring day”

“But mama”

“No Bea your mums right” Frankie says as he lays his head next to her. “You need your sleep otherwise there won’t be any dreams.” Frankie is secretly glad Bea didn’t ask him about this own dreams. He never wants her to have nightmares he’s so protective of her.

“Will my wish still come true?” She asks. You & Frankie look at each other. You’d both forgotten about the shell. You see it on her bed side table & pick it up, listening carefully. Bea giggles.

“It’s still whistling” Frankie nods approvingly. “It’s working on that wish what was it Bea” you say. Both you & Frnakie waiting with bated breath.

“For what uncle Pope said to come true”

You & Frankie look bemused at each other.

“Okay so what did uncle Pope say”

“For daddy & mummy to be happy & scream in delight” Bea yawns, grabbing her toy. Both you & Frankie have turned red.

“Oooh I’m sure that will happen Bea” you say & kiss her forehead, her eyes closing as she loses her battle to stay awake. Frankie properly tucks her in & then sits with her for a few more minutes, to make sure she’s completely asleep. You don’t Hoover to far from the door way. You like watching Frnakie be soft. You might have fallen for the hardened army pilot with a drug problem, but what you really got was a soft teddy bear who wanted it be loved, & give all that love back. As you sigh standing in the door frame Frankie turns to face you. He slowly stands up & kisses Bea once more, before he slowly makes his way to you. She’s sound asleep probably already dreaming.

His lips meet yours once he’s there. Your hands delve into that crazy mop of hair, your heart racing, every nerve shreded. This is the man you love, your husband, father to your babies.

“So” Frankie says. “Do I go hit Pope for insinuating stuff to our little girl that she can’t understand, or do I thank him” he says as he moves your own hair off your face.

“Hit him & thank him, but do it tomorrow” you say & you grab Frankie’s hand & lead him to your bedroom.

“Yes mama” he says as he smacks your bum following your lead to make sure that your little Beas wish really did come true, even though she’d never be able to see it.

#pedro pascal #fanfic #my fics #smutt #no minors #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #over18 #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal universe #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fan fic #pedro pascal fic #frankie catfish morales fan fic #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales fic

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 4 months ago

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dedicated to @latibvles for being my full-time enabler and letting me ramble about this au 24/7 <3

summer girl -> john brady x gwen dastrup (college au)

John had never seen the library this empty. Usually, he considered himself part of the exam season crowd - those people who never stepped foot in this place until their grade depended on it, cramming themselves awkwardly into any available workspace, wandering silent halls in search of a single empty seat. He had no idea why he was here, no explanation for the sudden urge that had tugged at him that morning, nagging him to come here until he was forced to finally relent.

Whatever it was, he was here all the same, inhaling the smell of dust and stale coffee as he began his work, gaze frequently wandering to the window, the wonderfully sunny afternoon outside like a mockery. A few seats along, on the opposite side of the table, a laptop had been left discarded, surrounded by books and papers and a still steaming flask of tea. John glanced around, frowning slightly as he appeared to be the only person in sight.

But before he could finish diverting his attention back to the task at hand, another distraction came in the form of a tune, faint and nearly impossible to follow, seemingly amplified in the library's still silence. The tune was followed swiftly by the sound of footsteps against the carpet, and as he attempted to peer around the bookshelves a figure appeared from around the corner, her pace and humming ceasing sharply as she faltered in her tracks, taken aback by the sudden appearance of another person.

"Sorry," The girl offered somewhat meekly, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. She held yet more books, a small stack tucked in the crook of her elbow, and her bright, rainbow sweater stood out in stark contrast against the overwhelming brownness of the room around them. Golden curls cascaded down to her shoulders, tucked behind her ears out of the way, and as she moved to sit down she raised the flask to her lips, squinting as the heat scalded her tongue.

"It's okay," John shook his head slightly, his response more delayed than he would've liked. Despite being the only other person in the room, it had taken him a second to realise it was him she was talking to, jaw hanging a little slack for a moment before he finally thought of something to say. If she'd noticed his somewhat dazed expression, she didn't show it, offering a quick, friendly smile as thanks before returning to her work, brow furrowed in concentration as she pored over the books that littered her side of the table, occasionally pausing to make a note of something.

The sight of her smile had caught him off guard, and John looked down at his computer to find he'd missed almost every key he'd aimed for throughout the last few words, the sentence ending in utterly distracted gibberish. He wasn't usually like this - nervous and dumb-struck, entirely unable to concentrate. Perhaps it was that they were the only two people here - that they were unable to avoid each other's attention, unable to distract themselves or pretend they were looking at someone else.

He hadn't realised he was staring until she did, and suddenly it was too late to look away.

She smiled again, a light pink flush tinting her expression. "... Hi."

"John," He blurted, eyes suddenly widening in embarrassment as he felt every drop of blood in his body suddenly rush to his cheeks, certain he'd turned bright red. "I'm- I'm John."

The girl let out a bubble of laughter, nodding. "I'm Gwen," She smiled, holding her hand out as he reached to shake it.

"You, uh... come here a lot?"

"Oh, like, every day," Gwen said with a shrug, something charmingly timid in her demeanour. John nodded, jaw tightening as he realised how stupid a question it had been.

"Sorry, I- ... dumb question. What, uh - what're you writing about?"

She gnawed at the inside of her lip for a moment, as if suddenly self-conscious. "It's a sorta comparative analysis of medieval manuscript art. I dunno, it's probably boring, I've just lost one of my main sources so it's a little hectic... You?"

He glanced down at his screen, nothing but a few sentences of gibberish littering the screen, cursor blinking over and over as if taunting him. He cleared his throat.

"... Jazz."

"Oh! That's cool," Gwen nodded, but he noticed a hint of hesitation.

"You don't really think that's cool, do you?" John chuckled.

"Yes! I do!" She frowned defensively, despite knowing he was right. "I... like jazz."

His brow arched in suspicion. "Can you name a single jazz musician?"

Gwen went slightly pale, stammering a little as she spoke. “Well… uh… there’s… Stevie… Wonder?” She had begun to grimace, squinting in embarrassment. “Oh! And there was Ryan Gosling in La La Land, that was good."

“Ok, so what you’ve done there is name a soul musician and a fictional character. Good job,” He nodded, a grin creasing his cheek. She had turned bright red, giggling slightly as she raised both hands to cover her face in shame.

She let out a groan. "I really hate jazz."

Suddenly, the library held its own unique appeal for John.

Gwen hadn't been kidding - she really was there every day. Not always in the same place, and not always alone, but he could always find her somewhere, even if they didn't manage to exchange more than a friendly smile.

But that was more than enough to keep him coming back.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Back soon, promise. please wait for me if u can <3

The text notification lit up Gwen's phone screen, a tiny beacon in the dark backyard of... whoever's house this was. It could've belonged to a classmate she'd spoken to a hundred times, but she wouldn't have had a clue - she merely knew it as the site of tonight's party.

This place had been chaos barely an hour ago, music blaring so loudly Gwen was scared someone would call the cops, intoxicated partygoers diving into the pool fully clothed as all manner of drinking games were played inside, the distinct smell of weed lingering on the air. It wasn't her scene - far from it - but her roommate Helen was into these sorts of things. At least, she was when Nash was invited. This was how Gwen had ended up here, perched on the edge of the pool, shoes discarded as she dangled her feet into the cool water below.

Most of the guests had dissipated a while ago, little more than a dozen friends left lingering inside, a recording of the afternoon's football game going in the background as they chattered loudly, 'finishing off' whatever was left of the booze. Gwen stared down at the solo cup full of coke in her hand, longingly picturing her car, parked out on the curb just waiting for her to leave.

"Hey," A familiar voice echoed across the yard. Glancing up, she noticed John wandering towards her, the pool lights casting him in a constantly shifting blue glow.

"Hi!" She smiled, straightening her posture slightly on instinct. "I didn't know you were here." Her phone had been softly blaring her own music, barely audible over the thrum of bass from inside, but nevertheless, she scrambled to turn it off as John came to sit down at the pool's edge beside her, crossing his legs to avoid getting wet.

"Bucky's friends with Jake, so we're hangin' around for a little while," He shrugged. So that's whose house this was - Jake. Did she know a Jake? It wasn't ringing any bells, but people's names rarely did. "Whatcha listenin' to?"

Gwen shrugged. "Sufjan Stevens, mostly."

"Nice. Not the vibe of this whole thing at all," He chuckled.

"Well, 'this whole thing' isn't really my vibe either," She confessed, leaning back on her elbows slightly, water sloshing audibly with every slight movement of her legs.

"So... what're you doing here?" John asked gently, turning to look at her, her profile illuminated by the pool lights, denim jacket shielding her shoulders from the nighttime breeze, although it was definitely still a little warm for it.

"Helen likes to come to these things, and I like Helen, so I usually just tag along for an hour or two. Except this time I brought my car, so now I gotta wait for her so we can drive back. Helen's my roommate, I dunno if you know her-"

"Nash's girl, right?"

"Right, yeah - which is the problem, really. They've been sucking face upstairs for like half an hour, so I'm just sorta sitting here in purgatory, waiting like a creep for them to finish," Gwen laughed, the bridge of her nose creasing with a grin as he chuckled along.

"I can take you back?" John offered. "I-If you want, of course."

She let out a huff of amusement, smiling appreciatively. "That's very sweet of you - but since you've been drinking all night that'd mostly just involve me driving us back to my place, so I'm not sure you're essential in that."

"Well, I'm open to it if you are," He grinned, the buzz of alcohol thrumming in his head making him bolder than he ever was. He'd never flirted with Gwen before, even when he'd wanted to, but in his state, he couldn't quite find the sense to feel embarrassed by it.

"Oh, shut up," Gwen scoffed, dragging one foot through the water and sending a splash up over the edge, making John yelp as cold water splattered across his leg.

"I really can't believe you just did that," He tutted dramatically, pushing himself up onto his knees as he inched closer towards her. Gwen's eyes had begun to widen, bracing herself against the grass in sudden anticipation of what he was planning.

"Don't you dare. No. No, no - John-!" A squeal escaped her as he seized her by the waist, the pair tipping over the side and plunging together into the clear, blue water below.

The moment they broke the surface, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, sound muffled to silence beneath the water. Gwen felt her dress rise, skirt fanning out around her hips as her bare feet kicked against the tiled floor. But Brady's grip never left her, a gentle hand on her waist, and she knew she was safe. Any panic that might have risen was quelled, laughter erupting from her throat as she rose back out of the water, head piercing the surface, sodden hair plastered flat against her skin.

He popped up shortly after, grinning, and she gave his chest a playful shove, cackling as he was dunked back into the water, his hair sticking out at all angles as he swam back up to meet her, spitting out a mouthful of pool water. "Asshole," Gwen chuckled, wiping hair from her face as she pushed herself to the edge of the pool, quite unable to stop smiling as she clambered out, clothes sticking to her skin. Through the white fabric of her skirt, John could make out the sun-kissed skin of her thighs, and he had to purposely avert his gaze, praying the low light would obscure the flush in his cheeks.

"Hey, you started it," He shrugged, grunting slightly as he climbed out after her, dripping all over the grass. "I'll go find some towels."

"Yeah, you better," She tutted, peeling off her denim jacket as he disappeared into the house, the feeling of it against her arms making her squirm. Once again alone, the night air making her shiver, Gwen smiled to herself, passing her weight from foot to foot, a little giddy after everything that had happened.

Maybe these parties were worth it, after all.

John reemerged only a few minutes later, towels held aloft in joyous victory, soaked strands of hair still dangling in his face. "I come bearing towels! And I found Helen!"

"Hey!" Helen called merrily, expression drooping into a slight frown as she took in Gwen's sodden appearance. "Jesus, what happened to you?"

"Ask Mr. Jazz over here," She teased, accepting one of the towels as John reached her and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Self-defence!" He declared. Helen glanced back and forth between the two, suspicion raising her brow. Her hair was slightly mussed from whatever she'd been doing with Nash, lipstick smudged across her chin. Gwen smiled, wiping at it with her still damp hand as her roommate muttered an 'oh shit', turning slightly red at the state of her appearance.

"I think we're callin' it a night," Gwen said, shooting Helen a slightly pointed look until she nodded in agreement. "I'll, uh - give you the towel-"

An idea sparked in John's mind. "Keep it. I'll get it back next time I see ya."

"Alright," She smiled meekly, her gaze lingering on him even as she began to walk away, Helen tugging softly at her arm as they wandered around the side of the house out to the street, where her car waited. It was an old piece of shit, painted a pleasant shade of green to disguise the fact it was falling to pieces, but it did the job. Gwen draped the towel across the seat, planting herself on top of it as she fumbled for her keys, the pair sitting in silence for a moment.

"So..." Helen began, and she could hear the smirk in her voice. "He's super into you."

Gwen sighed in embarrassment, burying her face in her palms. "Shut up." Turning the key, the engine roared to life as they pulled away, the house slowly disappearing behind them.

"I'm just sayin'."

#helena writes #john brady #john brady x oc #gwen x brady #oc: gwen #mota oc #mota #mota college au #masters of the air oc #masters of the air

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dasbrummli · 3 months ago

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Types of People: Humans I love(d).

The Little Sister: Flared pants and platform Doc Martens. Delicate gold earrings, perfect skin and bright eyes. Flat white coffee or matcha latte. Bagels. Techno music and poetic folk songs. Paris. Polaroids. Quick witted and humorous. Dachshund. Shabby sweatpants and runway fashion. Floppy ears. Massages. Banana bread.

The Little Brother: Street smarts. Perfect driving. Anything but resentful. Stained sweatshirt and Burberry Trenchcoat. Photography. Basketball. Chill. Humorous. Infuriating but so so lovable. Teacher. Surprisingly insightful. Advisor. Confident and cocky. Beer and Barbecue sauce. Coffee mugs. South Africa. Spontaneity. Arrogant.

The Father: Golden morning light. Expensive camera equipment and cheap gas station coffee. Model trains. Thick wool sweaters. Cologne and scratchy cheek kisses. Blankets of snow. Hares. Holly Cole and The Boss. Hilarious. Anything but an experimental eater. Spaghetti Bolognese and Stollen. Vibrant forest. Red wine and milk chocolate. The Musician.

The Mother: Crime novels. Warm soft hugs. Silent laughter, red cheeks, tears in eyes. Surprises. Book smarts. Perseverance. Organised and focused. Strong black tea and dark seedy bread. Elephant whisperer. Insomnia. Open mindedness and indignation. So supportive. Manners. Nice porcelain. Hydrangeas and roses. Plum jam. Perfect pedicures.

The Older Sister: Long walks. Control freak. Forests. Fantasy worlds. Diving head first into a swimming pool. Daydreaming. Curly hair. Pretentiousness. Everyday magic. Books. Tiny handwriting. Long wool coats. Mind all over the place. Excitement. Cold hands and warm sweaters. Hopeless romantic. Owls. Greek mythology. Trivia. Ink. Details. Cappuccino with cinnamon and cocoa.

The Musician: Delicate fingers plucking at Cello Strings. White chocolate. Knitting. Sarcasm, emotionally distant. Squirrels. Autumn walks, rain, graveyards. Audiobooks. Norway. Engineering, technical drawings, ballpoint pens. Morbid curiosity.

The Fighter: Clean and crisp white sheets. Determined. Cold brew coffee. Fragrant white Hyacinths blooming on a windowsill. Toned shoulders. Emotional intelligence. Brutal honesty. Philosophical books. Lab coats. Excellent listener. Pep talks and feminism. Triathlon. Anything to achieve your goals. Knowing smirks. Moscow mules. Reading not for pleasure but learning (or the pleasure of learning?)

The Scientist: Obscure inside jokes. Freckles. Dancer. Questionable cook, decent baker. Physics. The Smartest. Elegant movements. Thrifted knitted jumpers. Multicoloured nail polish. Poetry. Eccentric. Debating society. Entire page covered in the tiniest notes. Funky coffee mugs. Books picked off the street.

The Scout: Strong moral compass. Scouts honour. Massive Fantasy novels. Guffawing. Tie dye T-shirts and shining blue eyes. Ships. Camping. Adventure. Overwhelmingly talkative, but not in a bad way. Carefree. Trinkets and bonfires. Dunes and seafoam. Orange.

The Travel Companion: Political. Volunteering. Singing flatly but passionately. French patisserie. Colourful felt. Opinionated. Exuding coolness on the dancefloor. Dark green. Finland, pine forests and smoked salmon. Tents. Virology. Hypochondriac. Experimental cooking. Mushrooms. Aromatic black tea.

The Oldest Friend: Books over books over books. Deep talks. Old friends. Yoga. Peppermint tea. Sky blue. Memories. Therapy. Snowboarding. Pixie cut. Relaxation, taking it easy. Veganism. Dog person. Gender Studies. Runner. Coming back stronger and gentler than ever. Gift exchange. Solo holidays. Empathy.

The Exchange Student: Fast talking, Aussie accent. Oversized sweatshirts. Oat milk. Glowing skin. Sea foam. Pearls and silver. Fresh tulips. Warm summer days. Sunny side up eggs, drizzled with golden honey. Pool balls clicking. Hot chocolate. Belgian beer. Dog person. Silver rings, one on each finger. Tan lines.

The Designer: Linocut. Wide pants, black turtleneck. Oat milk. Creativity. Graphic design. Nose ring. Mullet. Enjoying and celebrating the beautiful things in life. Analogue photography. Coffee is a science. Patient. An artist. Berlin. Tortoiseshell glasses.

The Certified Badass: Bouldering. Fine line tattoos and silver ear piercings, too many to count. Black velvet. Remote island. Catto content. Road trips, lush forests, sea waves. Platinum hair. Strong. Blue eyes, white liner. Island. Thick knitwear and combat boots. Tarnished silver jewellery. Dune grass.

#types of people #aesthetic #personality types #text post #tag yourself #vibes #aesthetic text

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potatonugget7 · 6 months ago

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You Are My Sunshine

Chapter 1 of my new QSMP borrower AU. Also posted on AO3.

TWs: Fear of death, blood and injuries, a scary owl. 3.6k words.

Tubbo never seemed to learn his lesson when it came to trusting humans. Yet there he was, fleeing yet another home. This time though, he had a child with him. Yeah, he adopted a child. Considering he was still *kind of* a kid himself, maybe it wasn't the greatest idea, but it was too late for that now, they were inseparable like glue. Now it was Tubbo and Sunny against the world! Plus she shared his love for coffee! When he was her age, he wasn't allowed coffee, so Tubbo was *pretty sure* he was doing a fine job.

Hopefully this new house wouldn't have such weird and nosy humans.

Thunder rumbled in the dusk coloured sky overhead, followed by smaller cracks and flashes of bright light as it stormed. It was spring, the season of heavy rain and occasionally snow; also known as the perfect formula for hypo-fucking-thermia. Tubbo grimaced as the rain continued to beat down on them mercilessly, another heavy drop of freezing cold water crashing down on his head as he and Sunny trudged through a muddy forest of unkempt grass blades. It would be night soon. The sun was setting already, which meant the temperature would be dropping further and dangerous predators would be out hunting.

“Sunny, remember what I said? Stick close to me so we can share the umbrella,” he chattered out and Sunny nodded, squeezing his hand tighter.

All things considered, the leaf they were using as an umbrella wasn’t very effective. They were both drenched, covered in mud and dirt. Tubbo had tried to keep her out of the mud when it first started raining, but he couldn’t carry her and the bags. He cursed under his breath, squinting up at the darkening sky. It was just not their lucky day. Correction; not their lucky week.

They had to move on short notice; in the middle of the night, which then led to walking all day. Humans travelled much faster than borrowers could and Tubbo wanted to put as much distance between them and their previous ‘house mate’. For hours they trekked through forests of overgrown grass, across plateaus of dirt and brick. Along shores of large ponds and watering holes. He was certain that by now, they must’ve travelled at least a ‘city block’ as the humans called them.

It should be far enough. He hoped it was far enough. His legs ached and his feet were numb with cold. Tubbo wasn’t sure if it was his own exhaustion, or the rain weighing them down, but the bags felt so much heavier.

He paused as he felt a tug on his hand. Sunny had stopped and dropped the leaf-umbrella, a strained wheeze escaping her as she clutched her chest.

“Sunny?” Tubbo dropped the bags and crouched down in front of her, putting his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay?”

Sunny tried to nod as she coughed dryly, a pained look on her face. The poor girl had lung problems. Tubbo was pretty sure it was called asthma. It couldn’t be cured as far as he knew. He did everything he could; taught her calming breathing exercises and upon hearing that coffee supposedly could help, he started making it more often. However he wasn’t exactly sure how accurate that information was, considering its source was Pierre. Though he did quickly learn that Sunny shouldn’t have more than one cup a day or else she would be bouncing off the walls for hours. Sometimes it got really bad though, especially in the spring and all he could really do was hold her hand.

“Just stay calm princess, you’ve got this. If it hurts you can squeeze my hand, okay?” he whispered calmly, taking her hand gently.

Sunny nodded again and squeezed his hand tight. She had described the feeling to him before.

‘I feel all tight and like the air is being squeezed out of me.’ she had explained.

“Try and pretend you’re smelling some tulips, or maybe some coffee? Take a nice deep breath,” Tubbo said quietly, giving her the most reassuring smile he could muster.

A few minutes later, Sunny was able to reign it in again, but it felt like hours. Sitting there in the chilly air, getting battered by raindrops as he held his daughter’s hands. Unfortunately the rain didn’t set with the sun and as a bolt of lightning shattered the velvety sky, both borrowers jumped in fright.

“Pa…” Sunny tugged on his hand, frowning up at the sky as thunder rumbled loudly overhead. “Can we please stop here? I’m tired… and it’s really muddy and dirty.”

The smaller borrower kicked at the dirt with her muddy boots, a foul look on her face. Sunny wasn’t a typical child. While most borrowers her age would love to be playing in the dirt and enjoying the outdoors, Sunny would rather stay inside and count her collection of bits and bobs. Tubbo didn’t mind though. It brought him peace of mind to know Sunny was safe at home, waiting for him to bring her back whatever shiny new trinket he’d come across on his latest borrowing trip.

“I know Suns, I know,” he looked around, squinting past the tall grass blades around them.

They were about halfway across a particularly overgrown backyard. The house it belonged to stood tall in the distance. From what Tubbo could see it did have a back porch, standing on sleek, dark wooden beams, with a grate of sorts that wrapped all the way around. It would be the perfect place to make camp for the night.

“This umbrella sucks,” the small girl huffed, motioning to the leaf they were using. “I miss my parasol.”

Tubbo sighed. Regrettably, they had left it behind and he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it would’ve been useless anyway. Being made of paper, it would’ve been ruined in a few minutes of being out in the rain.

“Well maybe I can find you another one once it’s warmer out. I think the humans like to put them in their fancy… erm, barbeque drinks,” he gave her the most cheerful smile he could muster in the moment.

“Can you make it shiny pa?” Sunny asked with a hopeful smile.

Clearly she was in a much better mood already when it came to being promised new things. Tubbo felt a small weight lift off his shoulders at the sight of Sunny's smile. The weather was gloomy enough as it was, they didn't need either of them bringing the mood down any further.

“I guess I could reinforce it with some aluminium?” Tubbo smiled back at her, but it was a mask to hide his own gloom.

He had left behind… well, just about everything. His workshop, his machines and inventions, his materials. It would take years to rebuild both the workshop and his collection, assuming their new home would even have what he needed. Tubbo didn’t think human engineers were very common, and certainly not living on the same street. Disclaimer; he had no evidence to back that up, it was just a hunch . Honestly they'd be lucky to even find an abandoned borrowers’ hovel, let alone an available home with a proper forge setup.

“Oh…” Sunny visibly deflated, pouting at the ground as they trudged through the squelchy mud.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

“Poppetttttttttttttt… please don't make that face. It can't be helped for now, I'm sorry,’” Tubbo drawled out.

Squinting through the downpour, Tubbo could see they were almost to the human house which this yard belonged to. The structure was impossibly large, its rooftop easily grazing the skies as it towered over the small borrowers. The grass was getting thinner as they got closer to the building. Instead, large, flat stones were embedded into the dirt. Weeds were fighting to break through the cracks, between the tiles and several puddles of water turned the path into some kind of stoney bog.

They were so close to the porch now; all they had to do was cross the stone terrace. The whole thing made Tubbo nervous. Something in the back of his mind told him that if something bad was going to happen on this trip, it should happen sometime around now. There was almost no cover on the stone plateau, save for a few overgrown dandelions and upturned stone bricks, but he would hardly call that cover. If any birds spotted them, it would be so joever.

“Welp, up we go Suns,” Tubbo hauled himself up onto the stone, his muscles aching and sore from exhaustion.

“Pa, can we have avocado soup for dinner?” she asked as Tubbo reached down and pulled her up too.

“Sure…” he replied quietly, taking her hand as they began crossing the stone terrace.

In all honesty, he really just wanted to get to sleep. Unfortunately that's just what parenting was, it seemed. Tubbo was a little worried about a fire. Even a small one could draw unwanted attention. The brunet glanced up at the house ahead of them.

He didn’t see any lights on, but what if they somehow smelled the smoke and woke up? He couldn’t just feed Sunny cold soup though. For one, she wouldn’t eat it cold to begin with. Two, she needed to warm up or she might catch a cold! A sick child was the last thing he needed right now. Tubbo really hoped these humans ate avocados at least.

“Hey Princess… um, I just want to warn you. I might not be able to get you avocados anymore…” he said slowly, trying his damndest to avoid eye contact.

Sunny paused midstep, letting go of his hand. She looked up at him with a blank face, but Tubbo could see fire in her eyes.

“Huh.”

“Well it’s just…” Tubbo crouched down in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Avocados aren’t super common I don’t think. When I was your age I’d never even heard of them before.”

“Really..?” Sunny asked with a look of awe and horror on her face, like she couldn’t begin to comprehend life without avocados.

“Yeah,” he stood back up, a sorrowful expression on his face.

“Well- what about- what about coffee?” the younger borrower asked in a desperate voice.

“No, I think coffee is universal–” Tubbo paused, feeling goosebumps prickling down his spine.

Lightning cracked through the air and the flash of light revealed a shadow on the ground. His eyes widened in panic and he let out a gasp. Quickly, he grabbed Sunny and threw himself to the side, hugging her tight.

A pair of talons crashed down where they had been just seconds ago. A piercing ache jolted down his arm as his shoulder slammed into the stone, taking the brunt of the fall. Tubbo bit his tongue, swallowing back a pained cry. Now that the adrenaline was pumping, he barely noticed the dull throbbing in his shoulder.

“Pa?!” Sunny cried, her eyes wide with terror.

An owl towered over them, its grey and brown serrated feathers having made it virtually silent. It looked like a demon, with its massive glowing yellow orbs and feathery horns. Tubbo had seen one in action once. It swooped down on a field mouse with terrifying accuracy and snatched it up into the air. The poor mouse never had a chance.

He didn’t answer her as he scrambled to his feet. The owl recovered quickly too, flapping its wings wildly as it swiped at them with its talons again. Tubbo darted to the side, dragging Sunny with him, dropping some of the bags.

“What is that?!” the younger brunette practically squeaked.

“An owl–” Tubbo breathed out, shuddering as the owl's head turned a hundred and thirty degrees, staring directly at them.

Terrifyingly silent, the owl sprung at them again and Tubbo scooped Sunny up with his good arm, the adrenaline pumping through his veins giving him abnormal strength. The brunet vaulted over a slanted stone tile, feeling the wind rush passed them as the owl jabbed its beak into the stone. He ignored both the pain in his injured arm, and Sunny’s snot soaking into his shirt. The poor girl had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she shook, her face buried in his shirt.

He sprinted as fast as his legs would carry him, jolts of pain travelling up his ankles every time his shoes slammed into the hard stone. They were almost there. Tubbo wouldn’t let either of them get eaten by an overgrown finch right before reaching their new camp.

“Suns we have to be- very quiet,” he heaved out, the cold air making his lungs ache. “O-okay?”

“Mhm,” Sunny whimpered.

Daring a glance over his shoulder, Tubbo realised he didn’t see the owl anymore. A wave of anxiety washed over him and a pit formed in his stomach. It must’ve flown back to wherever it had been perching before it jumped them. They were lucky the first time when the lightning struck and Tubbo managed to catch a glimpse of the shadow. He didn’t think it would happen twice.

He stopped to catch his breath, and squinted up at the dark sky; it wasn’t circling above them. Tubbo turned his gaze to the shrubs and trees around the backyard, scanning the tall towering fences and the nearby houses. He didn’t see the owl anywhere though.

“Okay Sunny… I- I don’t want to scare you–” he started, setting the younger borrower back down on the stone.

“Pa… that was already really scary,” Sunny interrupted.

Tubbo took a deep breath, his legs shaking from the adrenaline. The pain was starting to really set in, and the cold and the damp really didn’t help either. Looking over at the porch, he could see how the skirt was made of wooden plants. The planks created a criss-cross pattern, with holes too small for any creature bigger than a small rabbit. The owl wouldn’t be able to get them there.

He gently took her hand again and began walking across the stone plateau once more.

‘At least the rain had stopped…’

“I know, but that owl might still come back. So we need to get under the porch, quickly and quietly. We’re gonna set up camp there,” he explained, helping her jump over a crack where a dandelion had challenged the tiles and won.

“Finally…” Sunny yawned.

“Sunny. Kid. You are way too nonchalant for someone who just nearly got snatched by an owl,” Tubbo deadpanned.

“I thought you didn't want to scare me,” she stated, a blank expression on her face.

“...” they stared at each other in silence for a moment.

“Look– you know how fragile my ego is.” deep down though, Tubbo was happy she was so quick to recover.

Sunny rolled her eyes, letting out a scoff. Tubbo went to clutch his chest dramatically in betrayal– but let out a pained yelp, quickly remembering that he had an injured shoulder. The cheeky look on the younger borrower’s face turned to sympathy when she noticed.

“Does your arm hurt Pa?” she asked, gently tugging on it.

“Uh, yeah. So please don’t pull on it,” Tubbo grimaced.

“Sorry,” Sunny mumbled.

Relief washed over him as they finally crossed over to the last stone tile. Tubbo breathed a sigh of reprieve as he shoved aside an overgrown dandelion stem. He didn’t notice the owl was back until he was slammed into the stone.

His brain buffered, taking a second to catch up before he realised what had happened. Sharp talons pinned him to the ground, digging into his arms and Tubbo let out an agonizing wail. He squirmed, pushing up against the owl’s superior strength. However even with the adrenaline pumping through his veins he was no match for a massive, hungry bird of prey.

“Go! Sunny hide- under the porch–!” he yelled, his voice cracking.

“But–”

“Go!” he struggled, reaching for his sword.

The smaller borrower nodded, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. Tubbo managed to unsheathe his sword, using it to block the owl's beak as it tried to chomp his head off . At the same time, Sunny climbed up and between one of the criss-crosses in the porch skirt.

Tubbo pointed the tip of the sword at its face the second time the owl lunged for his head. The pin was embedded in the feathery bastard's eye. The owl let out a deafening shriek and started flapping its wings frantically, scratching at Tubbo as it shrieked. The borrower let out yelp and curled up in a ball, covering his head with his hands.

‘Maybe that wasn't a great idea–’

Tubbo froze as he heard a click. Suddenly squares of light flooded the yard. Next, a loud shuttering noise, which was then followed by a resounding slam rang through the air.

“Yeah hang on Phil, it's that stupid owl again,” a deep voice groaned.

Thunk, thunk, thunk, clack, clack, clack–

His eyes widened in horror as he listened to the footsteps of the much scarier predator that was fast approaching. The owl noticed too, turning its stupid creepy head to the giant that now towered over the both of them.

“How many times have I told you to stay out of this yard?! Fucking bird,” the bald human yelled, stomping it's feet so loudly that it shook the ground.

The owl let out a shrill shriek, squawking angrily at the human before it took off again.

Tubbo slowly picked himself up, biting his tongue to quiet his own pained whimpers. His body felt like it was on fire. His shirt was ripped, and the sleeves were covered in messy, dark red stripes; gifts left behind by the owl's talons.

“Jeez…” the human pulled a light box (Pierre said they were called phones) out of its pocket and held it up to its ear.

“Sorry I'm back. Yeah the little one that won't leave the crows alone.”

The human didn't see him yet, and Tubbo didn't want to change that. Quietly, slowly, he pulled himself up onto the trim of the porch and crawled through one of the many gaps in the wood. He managed to drag himself behind one of the wooden posts that framed the porch before he collapsed in the dirt, panting.

“I mean, maybe? I didn't see one. It might've just been a rat.”

Tubbo heard some shuffling behind him and awkwardly sat up, leaning against the post for support. He pulled his heavy bag and laid it down in the dirt, still working on catching his breath. He just needed a minute to recover.

“Hello?”

The brunet slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the startled noise that tried to claw its way up his throat.

“Is anyone or anything down here?”

Tubbo knew there was absolutely no way the bald human could see him. Even laying down, it couldn’t see him from that angle, in the dark no less. Well- unless it could see through walls, which he severely doubted. However, the urge to get up and take off running again was strong.

“Yeah, I think it was just a squirrel or something,” the human got back up, dusted itself off and went back inside.

“K, I have to put the kids back to bed now. I think the owl woke them up again”

Tubbo still felt his heart hammering against his chest. The ridiculous amount of close encounters he and Sunny had experienced today gave him enough heart attacks to last a month thank you very much. He waited until it stopped raining sawdust and the footsteps above him faded away to move again.

Once he was absolutely sure the human wasn’t listening, Tubbo grabbed his hiker’s bag and got back up again, (much to his body’s dismay).

“Sunny?” he called out, stumbling over the uneven terrain. “Poultry Princess? Where are you?”

“Pa?!” his eyes darted to the source of the sound.

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave. Sunny was fine, she was alive in one piece. The little borrower had peeked her head out of her hiding spot; behind another wooden support. Tubbo rushed over to her, nearly tripping in the process, and lifted her up into a tight hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay…” he whispered, setting Sunny back down on the ground when she started squirming.

The younger borrower grumbled, crossing her arms. She was giving him the look.

“...What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “Am I not allowed to hug you or–?”

“Don’t do that again Pa!” she cried, pounding her little fists on his chest lightly. “I thought- I thought you were gonna–...” her exclamations died down into sobs.

一

Once Sunny had calmed down, Tubbo had gotten a small fire set up. Though their clothes hadn’t dried yet, the warmth from the fire was welcome, and leftover avocado soup had never tasted so good. Luckily, the most essential items had been packed in their backpacks, and not in the bags they’d left behind while fleeing the owl attack. Tubbo didn’t think going back out there to rescue them was in his best interest at the moment. He’d just finished bandaging his new wounds after all, he wasn’t exactly keen on opening them back up already.

“Pa, can you sing me a lullaby?” Sunny asked as she helped her dad unravel their sleeping mat.

“I- well, I can try. Are you ready for bed then?” he pulled a blanket out of his bag and laid it down on the sleeping mats.

“I was ready for bed hours ago,” the younger borrower sassed as she flopped down on the mat.

“Fair enough,” Tubbo put the fire out before laying down next to her, pulling the other end of the blanket over them, like a blanket taco.

“Argh,” he cleared his throat. “My voice is a bit scratchy right now, so bear with me.”

“That's okay.”

“Ahem. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy, when skies are grey… You’ll never know dear… how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

“Pa…”

“Yeah?”

Sunny turned to face him.

“Is that about me?”

“Um, I guess you could interpret it that way, yeah,” he gave her an awkward smile.

“Okay…” she turned her back to him. “I’m glad the owl didn’t eat you.”

“Yeah, I am too, no more talking though. Sleep time,” he yawned out, pulling her into a warm hug.

“Night Pa.”

“Night Suns…”

#sfw gt #qsmp #mcyt #mcyt g/t #mcyt g/t community #fic #borrowers #borrower!tubbo #borrower!SunnySideUp #human!FitMC #mentioned Philza #mentioned Aypierre #there is a giant owl #sunshine fic #gt #g/t #g/t community

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