#the most long-winded ask reply ever probably

[the-siphonophore]

ask game! 1, and 11 if you're comfortable sharing

Yeah!! A warning: you have asked very interesting questions and I've been sick all day so I am in a mood to RAMBLE (you have been warned)

1 (how did you get your system name) it's actually a reference xD in the Unexpectables podcast (ttrpg) there's a fragment of a god living in a massive floating crystal above the city of Alivast, and that crystal is called the Attic. The god-shard living within is called Lys, and shows itself as a (porcelain) mask in a realm of porcelain- this bit (and entire podcast) was very emotionally important to our system for a long time, so we sort of just kept it. The other name option was smth perhaps a bit over-flourished; the Myriad Mask system/collective, which we decided against due to wanting to unmask. There were other name options too but they weren't particularly interesting

11 (how did you find out you're plural) in an odd sense we almost always knew. The earliest memories have several voices, but because everyone's always understood manners there was almost never talking over each other- and when there was we were all too distractible to take much notice. This is relevent specifically because we listened to and read A LOT and I mean a METRIC FUCK TON of fantasy books, and one thing that is always said is that "voices in your head generally mean you are going crazy. And that's bad" so logic ruled that if the voices overlapped, then there were multiple, otherwise it's just one that does silly voices (audiobook narrators do that all the time) and thus the conclusion that despite the literal audio drama happening at all times, definitely not multiple voices. Plus we're very good at agreeing about things and talking disagreements out peacably, so of course that was assumed to be how everyone works through information. Fast forward to highschool and everyone(external folks) is blithering about this super wicked-cool thematically cohesive "self" that everyone's about to have, and how it comes with a sense of fashion and a way of speaking and favorite colors, books, animes, etc. Now we all got really good really young at catching on to when something Important is going down (autism masking, really) and started to essentially research what a sense of self was supposed to look like. And proceeded to be horrible at it. Could never decide on any one thing to go with, way to be, item/story/color to favor, or ANY of the things people said you figured out in highschool. Lots of other life events were going on at the same time which really just ended up in a pretty extreme dissociation problem, delaying epiphany a few more years. And yet, epiphany came. Epiphany came in the form of online servers, where other systems talked about their experiences, and it was fascinating! Fascinating to a dangerous degree (everything else this interesting gets permenantly installed in the brain [special interests] or turns out to be awfully Self [like discovering our autism] Relevent) so we asked questions and researched and read people's stories, and had a big sit-down-and-think. And then the fog started to lift. Allowing a possibility of voices, of faces, preferences and general personhoods, was a VERY delicate process, but then the locks came undone and it's been a lovely mess ever since:) we still have the dissociation issues most days, but it's getting better, and even now I'm writing this with Bonrae at my shoulder, and everyone else bickering comfortably in the main room behind me

Thanks for the ask, it was lovely to chat^-^

- Virgil

[hgfictionwriter]

Road Trip

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: You and Jessie take a little road trip out of town. The fun doesn't have to wait until you get to your destination.

Warnings: G!P (girl penis) sex: hand job, oral (r giving head). Fingering (r receiving). Car sex. Semi-public sex. Language.

A/N: This is a G!P Jessie universe one-shot. Not part of the Control series. I'm also probably obliged to say - don't try this at home lol.

During a rare long weekend for both you and Jessie, you decided to take a road trip out of town. You'd booked a cute cabin a few hours away and you and Jessie had been looking forward to this for weeks. She'd prepped a road trip playlist, you'd curated a stash of road snacks and mapped out the most scenic route to take.

The sun was just starting to peak over the horizon when you and Jessie hit the road. She navigated you through the somehow still congested city roads until eventually the traffic thinned and you were on the winding, open road through the forests of Oregon.

When you two weren't chatting, you were singing along to the music, Jessie now and then subtly bobbing her head along to the music or tapping her toes in time with the beat if she was really into it, quietly humming at most.

You drove past a particular landmark and Jessie recited various facts and history about it to you because, of course, she'd researched key things along your route. You braced your head against the window with your arm as you smiled softly while you watched her, listening to her excitedly tell you her learnings.

She wore her wavy hair down today, her black baseball cap on top. She wore a short sleeve shirt that showed off the subtle definition of her biceps and her muscular thighs were deliciously on display in the shorts she wore, her feet planted apart as she held the wheel with one hand, the other resting on her thigh.

You belatedly realized you'd gotten so lost in appreciating her form that you missed what she was saying. She caught your inattention.

"Are you even listening?" She asked, mildly exasperated but still giving you a lopsided smirk as she cocked her head at you. "The oldest tree in the state not exciting enough for you?"

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head with a smile at her. "Oh, I'm enthralled. Seriously," you went on, growing earnest as you rest a hand on her arm briefly, "I'm sorry. I love when you get excited about things. Tell me again, please. I was just...distracted."

She gave you a curious, sidelong glance.

"Distracted?"

"Distracted," you replied matter of factly.

"With what?" She inquired in a way that relayed to you that she had no clue how enticing she looked right now.

"Oh you know," you said as you leaned over in your seat and reached across to rest your hand on her thigh. Your hand inched inward, caressing and gently kneading her firm muscles. You spied how her grip on the steering wheel tightened momentarily and she readjusted.

"Oh," she said, veiled surprise in her voice as she kept her eyes trained on the road before eventually letting her gaze flit over to you briefly, her cheeks growing pink.

"I love how smart you are," you told her, your voice soft as you let your hand now wander up her leg, teasing the juncture between her upper thigh and hip. Your hand traced firmly along there, the tips of your fingers brushing oh so close to where you wanted to be. The loose fit of her shorts concealed what you knew was underneath.

"Uh huh," Jessie said absently as she shot you a look of warning. You continued to rub the inside of her thigh and held back a smirk at how she cleared her throat and shifted under your touch, straightening in her seat with another look at you.

You didn't hold back your smile as you saw a gentle curve start to form in her shorts.

"Have you ever had road head before?" You asked as you began to gently palm the bulge that was taking shape under your attention.

She exhaled roughly. "No," she said curtly, shooting you a brief glare. "Seems pretty irresponsible."

"That's too bad," you hummed in mock disappointment as you continued to cup her, feeling her grow firmer and bigger under your hand, the loose fabric of her shorts slowly being pulled taut by her swelling arousal.

Jessie swallowed and shifted in her seat while she shot you another discerning look.

"Would you like to try?" You asked, a lilt in your voice as you continued to rub her through her shorts.

She cleared her throat again and you caught how she dug the fingers of her free hand into her thigh before making a fist and released again, still digging into her leg.

You shifted her lap belt out of the way, then you undid the button of her shorts. She let out an audible noise, her shoulders rolling back subconsciously while keeping her eyes trained on the road.

"I trust you," you told her as you slowly began to unzip her shorts up and over the angle of her stiffening cock. She released a soft gasp.

"I don't think I trust myself," she corrected.

"You can always tell me to stop," you told her in all seriousness as you undid the button on her boxers. You stopped, looking up at her now and giving her room to actually halt things. She didn't, so you pushed the fabric aside to reveal her stiff cock.

A wave of arousal went through you, now you being the one to shift uncomfortably in your seat. You inadvertently licked your lips.

"God, you make me so wet," you told her. She let out a small breath, her head falling back against the head rest. You watched as her shoulders raised and lowered more fully as she worked to control her breath and stay focused on the road. You licked your fingers, the motion drawing her gaze and she groaned lightly, a smile tugging at her lips now.

"Jesus," she said with a subtle shake of her head. "This wasn't on my itinerary," she joked, a crooked grin now adorning her face.

"It wasn't on mine either," you said as you reached over and wrapped your hand around her length. She let out a low gasp, her shoulders sinking. "But you look so amazing and I adore you too much. I couldn't resist," you went on as you slowly began to spread her precum across the sensitive head of her cock with your thumb, taking your time, your touch light and teasing. You gradually slid your hand up her length and then back down.

Jessie let out a low groan and you saw her legs flex and one hand now clutched the fabric of her shorts tightly in a fist.

Her lips parted, her breathing quickened as you slowly stroked her up and down, your thumb still teasing her. You wore a carefully concealed but affectionate smile as you saw how she worked valiantly to keep the car steady. You began to stroke her a bit more firmly.

"Oh God," she said, her eyes flitting over to you. Her expression shifting from a mix of focus and pleasure to a goofy grin and a blush as she made eye contact with you. She grabbed the wheel with her other hand and reached out now to rub your thigh, wanting some kind of contact with you.

As you continued to touch her, you allowed a new bead of precum to form at the tip.

With your free hand, you unclicked your seatbelt. Jessie immediately snapped to attention, coming out of her partial daze and looking at you with concern.

"Hey, no," she said as she even wagged a finger at you. Without thinking, you grabbed her hand, bringing it up and gently placing her pointed finger in your mouth, sucking sensually on it, your head bobbing slightly as you locked eyes with her.

"Fuck." Jessie let out a shaky breath as she sat back in her seat again, dropping her fight with you. After a moment she managed to muster up a pleading look.

"We'll be fine, baby," you assured her. "There's hardly anyone on the road and it's pretty straight for a while." Her eyebrows furrowed further though she voiced no more complaints. "Just keep your eyes on the road," you instructed gently, a glint in yours as you shifted in your seat so you were fully facing her.

She let out a long, audible exhale and placed both hands on the wheel in anticipation.

You grasped her in your warm hand again, stroking her gently. You absently noted out of the corner of your eye the way her jaw clenched at your renewed touch.

"God, I love your cock," you told her as you adjusted yourself one final time before bending over and tracing your tongue around the head before pulling your tongue fully across and licking up her precum.

"Oh fuck," Jessie said, almost gutturally. You smiled before taking her fully into your mouth, closing your lips around her and sucking as your tongue swirled around her head furthermore.

"Jesus Christ," Jessie went on. You smiled into her as you heard her grip tightening around the leather of the steering wheel.

You continued to tease her tip, enjoying how your ministrations already had tension mounting in her body, evident by the flexing and shifting of her legs and the frequent readjusting of her grip on the steering wheel.

Satisfied, you took her further into your mouth, closing your lips as far down her length as you could, feeling the firm head of her cock pushing at the back of your throat. She let out a shuddering moan and you felt the car jerk a little - her hand shooting out immediately onto your back to brace you as she righted the car.

"Fuck, sorry," she said breathlessly, her hand rubbing your back apologetically before she grabbed the steering wheel with both hands again.

You didn't respond. You simply gripped the base of her length, rotating and stroking there as you began to bob your head up and down.

You heard Jessie let her head fall back against the head rest again with a dull thud as she moaned low in her chest. You moaned against her in response, the vibration and sound adding another level of pleasure for Jessie. She unintentionally began to subtly rock herself up into your mouth.

You continued to suck her off and you had to fight off the grin over Jessie's increasingly vain attempts to retain composure. She breathed heavily, blowing measured breaths, bright pink cheeks puffed out in a combination of exertion and concentration. Her knuckles were sheer white as she gripped the wheel and blinked rapidly, trying to keep her eyes focused on the road.

Her breaths started to grow shallow and shaky, her low moans transitioning into soft, needy whimpers. Though you knew she was doing her best to not thrust into you, her hips were subtly pushing into you with a quickening pace.

She was fully in your mouth, the deepest thus far today when she spoke urgently.

"I can't," is all she said as you felt her turn the wheel and brake, the car veering before steadying and slowing. You heard gravel and dirt getting kicked up under the car as she pulled over.

Now stopped, Jessie leaned back fully in her chair and let out a deep moan of relief. You lifted your eyes briefly to see her raising both hands to her forehead, arms out and head tossed back as you continued to envelope her with your warm mouth.

She soon placed a hand on the back of your head and you began to bob up and down, sucking and licking her more vigorously.

"Oh fuck, babe," she panted. "I'm gonna cum."

You were undeterred, continuing your skillful motions and relishing how her moans rose in pitch and frequency as she rocked into your mouth and bundled your hair tightly in her fist.

Her moans reached a high and she tensed up underneath you, her hips pushing herself deeper as she spilled herself into your throat. You didn't waver and instead you moaned as you swallowed every drop of her release.

Her hips began a slow stutter against you as she began to come down. You slowed your strokes and the bobbing of your head until drawing up on her length one last time, sucking as much off of her as you could as you let her fall from your mouth. A small grunt escaped Jessie's lips as you released her.

You sat up, her eyes following you as you swallowed again and wiped at the corners of your mouth.

"Fucking Christ," Jessie breathed as she lifted her hands once more, closing her eyes and covering them as she sat there spent, her legs spread wide, cock slowly softening.

You gave her a small smile though she hadn't mustered up the strength to look at you again yet. "How was it?" You asked smugly.

She groaned, peeking an eye out from between her fingers to shoot you a look.

"Do you really have to ask?" She deadpanned. You shrugged nonchalantly and kissed her cheek.

"Thanks for keeping us safe, by the way," you said sweetly as you leaned in again and cupped the other side of her face and kissed her cheek once more. "I told you I trusted you."

Jessie let out an exasperated breath.

"It's a miracle we're both alive," she said flatly, eyes closed again as she tried to will herself out of her post-climax haze. She had to admit this was one of the strongest.

She heard some rustling, but didn't pay much attention to it. It was several moments later when she heard a barely audible moan. Her eyes flew open and she turned to you.

You were already watching her, meeting her gaze as your head was pressed back against the head rest and you rocked your hips against your fingers that you'd snuck into your panties while Jessie rested.

"If you're too tired, it's okay, I can always take care of myself."

An immediate rush of energy and arousal coursed through Jessie's body at seeing you touch yourself coupled with the flirtatious challenge you'd just issued. Her groin pulsed as blood began to rush back to her cock again.

Jessie growled at you as she undid her seatbelt and shifted towards you.

"I can take care of you," Jessie professed, nearly through grit teeth. "You don't need to do it yourself. It's my job to make you cum."

You released a small sigh of lust as you continued to play with your clit. "Oh, it's a job now, is it?" You still teased, a bit breathless. Jessie gave you a mischievous grin.

"You know it's the farthest thing from that." She glanced down at her cock that was already starting to swell with arousal. She whispered in your ear, pulling your earlobe between her teeth. "Look at what just the thought of making you cum is doing to me."

With no further delay, Jessie reached down into your pants, her hand covering yours and moving with your motions. She smiled at how you moaned, bringing your free hand up to cup the side of her face.

Jessie took over for you, her fingers slipping through your folds, coating her fingers in your arousal. She groaned, feeling another rush course up the length of her stiffening cock at how soaked you were. She couldn't resist slipping inside of you with how wet you were, you both moaned as she filled you and you spread your legs further.

"God, you're gorgeous," she told you as she slowly pumped in and out before withdrawing to rub your clit once more. Wet sounds filled the car as Jessie did so. "Oh babe," her voice wanting, "you seem to have enjoyed that head nearly as much as I did."

You whimpered, grinding your hips down against her fingers.

"I love making you cum," you told her as you ran your fingers through her hair, tossing her hat into the backseat. Your eyes were closed in pleasure as Jessie stimulated your sensitive nub. When you finally opened your eyes, your gaze was drawn to Jessie's rock hard cock. You let out a needy moan.

"I want you inside me," you said, already starting to move.

Jessie pulled away, fumbling at the side of her seat looking for the controls to shift her seat back, her mind unable to focus. As she moved her seat and reclined it some, you were removing your pants and underwear.

Jessie grabbed them out of your hands and tossed them into the back seat before swiftly reaching out and grasping your waist, helping you maneuver over the gear shift to settle on top of her.

In the flurry of urgency and need, you winced as you knocked your head against the roof of the car as you tried to figure out the right positioning in these tight quarters. Jessie and you shared a short laugh.

"Hold on," she said as she reclined her seat fully to give you more room.

You wasted no time in sinking down on Jessie, her holding her cock in place for you as you did so. You both moaned loudly.

"Oh fuck," Jessie said, blinking widely through the pleasure that swept over her at being sheathed inside of your hot core. "God damn," she said through gritted teeth as she gripped your waist tighter and started to rock her hips up into you.

"Oh my God, Jess," you breathed, your head thrown back. "You feel so fucking good inside of me." You moaned further. "You fill me so full."

"Fuck yeah, babe," Jessie grunted as she began to thrust into you with greater force already. "You're so tight around me. You could make me cum on the first thrust, I swear it."

A loud moan fell from your lips and you leaned your hands on Jessie's chest, now looking down at her and starting to ride her. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head briefly as you took over, lifting up until Jessie's tip was stretching out your entrance before sinking back down and rocking your hips forward and doing it all over again.

"You are so beautiful," Jessie said adoringly as she moved her hands up to your rib cage and leaned up to kiss your chest.

The way you rode Jessie wasn't soft or gentle. You bounced down on to her thick cock hard and fast, with Jessie pumping up to meet your thrusts. You got lost in the moment, forgetting the confines of the space and hit your head again at the peak of a particularly wanton thrust.

"Shit!" You cursed, managing to not lose your rhythm.

"Oh shit," Jessie echoed, a brief laugh sneaking out though she still instinctually shot a hand out to belatedly protect the top of your head. "Are you okay?"

The moment of amusement and concern vanished as you continued to ride her, waves of pleasure threatening to overwhelm her as your tight heat enveloped and released her exquisitely. You braced your hand against the roof to anchor you.

"Just shut up and kiss me," you ordered.

She rose up to meet you, kissing you passionately, soon moaning into your kiss as the car rocked from your motions.

The lead up to all of this meant that both of your climaxes weren't far off. Jessie huffed in concentration as she stared up at your gorgeous form and did her best to hold her orgasm at bay. She tried to block out the realization that your cum was dripping down her cock and onto her thighs, maybe even onto the seat - the thought would drive her far too wild.

She was grateful when you began to whimper, the slapping of your thighs against her quickened and she knew you were on the brink. She sucked on your neck, not holding back like she normally would. It was just you two for the next few days, who cares if she marked you up.

"I need you to cum inside me," you begged as you bounced up and down.

"Oh fuck," Jessie breathed in reverie. She wrapped her arm around your back and propped her elbow against the middle console to thrust up into you more adamantly. "That's going to make me blow for sure." She shook her head in disbelief at you. "Anything for you."

You began to pulse, your core fluttering and tightening around Jessie's cock in a way that left her powerless. Within moments she was grunting, thrusting up into you as her own body tightened and soon indescribable rushes radiated through her body as she shot rope after rope of cum deep inside of you. Her hips jerked into you, all rhythm lost as the last drops of cum drained from her cock.

Jessie collapsed back onto the seat, you on top of her as you both took deep, rapid breaths as your orgasms faded.

"Jesus Christ, woman," Jessie said, unable to open her eyes as exhaustion took over her body in the afterglow of the second climax you gave her. "You're trying to kill me."

She felt you chuckle against her. "A simple 'thank you' would suffice," you teased. Jessie snickered and lazily brought a hand up to absently play with your hair.

You lay there together for several moments in one another's embrace. Jessie still hadn't opened her eyes and was seriously contemplating if a nap was in order before you both heard a far off noise.

You lifted yourself up slightly to peer out the back window and saw a car pulling over.

"Fuck," you hissed as you started to climb off Jessie, not remotely gracefully, honking the car accidentally as you did so and scaring the hell out of each other. "Oh my god," you gasped when Jessie popped out of you and a rush of cum spilled out onto her shorts.

"Fuck's sake!" Jessie exclaimed as she impulsively tried to wipe it away, but just spread it onto her shorts and hands inadvertently. "Oh God."

"They're coming," you hissed again as you were stretched out over the middle console trying to retrieve your pants that Jessie had so haphazardly discarded earlier.

"What the hell," Jessie cursed, her voice high in panic as she held her hands out in indecision before clueing back in and frantically tucking her cock away in her shorts and zipping them up while you scrambled to put on your pants.

She clocked the person nearing in her side mirror. She twisted in her seat to snatch up her hat and lay it flat on her shorts in an attempt to conceal the mess you two made.

You settled in your seat just as the person came up to the window. Jessie opened it and greeted him as normally as she could. From the way her chest rose and fell as she caught her breath and the heat she could feel across her face, she knew it was a lost cause.

The man took one look at you and Jessie, and the realization dawned on his face. He averted his eyes, scratching his temple before looking back at Jessie fleetingly.

"Uh, just saw you were pulled over. Wanted to make sure you folks were okay."

"Uh, yep. We're good," Jessie replied, her voice higher and more strained than she'd hoped.

"Yep. Okay, great," the man said as he began to turn away. "You, uh, both take care now."

"Will do! Thanks!" Jessie replied.

Jessie watched the man leave in the rearview mirror, both of you giving an awkward wave as he drove off. You both sat for a second before exhaling collectively. Jessie's face was beet red, she didn't need to check a mirror to know, but slowly a smile tugged at her lips. She glanced over at you, a blush adorning your cheeks as well. You held each other's gaze for a moment before you both dissolved into laughter.

You smacked Jessie's arm lightly as you gave her a playful glare.

"Hey!" Jessie laughed. "What am I getting in trouble for? You're the one who started this!"

You relented with an impish smirk. "Maybe so." You glanced down at her stained shorts with a nod. "Before we go, let me grab you a new pair of shorts."

[stevebabey]

the swindling of steve harrington’s heart

word count: 9.5k synopsis: you write for the advice column in the hawkins post, under the pen name gabby. you get a letter asking for advice about a first date and there’s no way it’s the same guy you’ve just landed a first date with, right? steve harrington doesn’t need help with his dates... right? [based on this post] [fem!reader + strangers to lovers but… steve’s a big sap for you already, ok?]

The first letter comes in on a Tuesday. 

It’s posted in an ordinary envelope, with only a messy scrawl on the front to dictate that it was for the advice column of Hawkins Post. Inside revealed the same loopy letters, on a single piece of paper, reading: 

Out of all the letters you’ve ever received at this job, most of which were lengthy admissions of troubles in suburbia, this one was by far the most interesting one you’d gotten all month. All year if you were being honest.

Writing advice under the pen name Gabby for your local paper likely wasn’t anyone’s first choice of job, not at least for those serious about writing as yourself was.

But between flipping burgers down at Benny’s and slinging shakes at Rita’s Diner, it seemed the lesser of all evils. And hey, it paid decently enough and you had a sweet little set-up in one of the drowsy corners of the office. 

It’s how you wind up here, scanning over the letter from one mysterious S.

It’s penned on some spare paper, nothing special. It wasn’t even lined paper like you might usually use for sending a letter of any sorts. It intrigued you the moment it had been dropped into your basket.

Hands flipping through the 4 other letters in there, rows of soft pink and blue envelopes, all with familiar handwriting, you determined that this one was, indeed, a new writer.

You practically devoured it from the first line. Gossip was rampant in Hawkins, like all small towns, but it was not so often shared so publicly with the paper, despite the anonymity that came with the advice column.

Most people in Hawkins seemed to come for advice on outshining their neighbours with a peach cobbler. Some asked whether jazzercise really was the go. There were very few sad tales of love in between the mush.

But this? Even just from the use of the word crush, you knew this wasn’t the average housewife talking midlife marital issues. This was someone your age.

It’s just a little bit funny, you admit — you, yourself, couldn’t imagine ever turning to the local paper to seek out love-life advice. Especially considering none of your previous replies as Gabby implied you had expertise in that area.

You decided it meant they were truly desperate or perhaps completely a hopeless romantic, or a bit of both.

But you couldn’t lie, either way, it’s entirely endearing to you.

It didn’t matter that it was probably someone who had no ‘game’, it was entirely completely made up by the fact they were clearly trying very hard, very genuinely.

They cared enough about getting things right. Whoever they were wooing was very lucky— re-reading over the short letter shoots a grimy wave of envy through your chest. When was the last time someone cared that much about a first date with you? About any date with you? The answer was… probably, never.

It didn’t help either that you had just landed yourself a date. A date with Steve Harrington.

For just a moment, a very brief moment, you look down at the signed S and wonder: would he?

No, he wouldn’t, you decide swiftly. The fragile hope that briefly hung up on the idea is shaken off as you recall his charismatic nature, his easy grin when he asked you out just the other week.

There had been a bit of nervousness, sure, but when you consider the dating history he’d had through high school, well… You feel embarrassed for even considering it. 

King Steve Harrington doesn’t need help with his dates.

Besides, the letter clearly states this was S’s long-time crush. You were fairly certain that if the school’s golden boy harboured any sort of feelings for you, it wouldn’t have slipped past your radar.

Last time you checked, Steve had only noticed you when you had gone into Family Video the other week — when he had promptly asked if you wanted to see a movie together sometime.

Sure, it hadn’t been nearly as smooth as you expected, though, that wasn’t to say you weren’t charmed. You’d heard a lot about Steve— though, who at Hawkins High hadn’t?

He had been that customer-service type of welcoming, hands braced against the countertop as he leaned into it, a handsome smile on his face.

You had pretended your stare didn’t linger on his arms. Or that you were drinking in all the subtle changes to himself, physically and more, since his primped-up freshmen-self. 

You had even admitted to yourself that he managed to pull off the dweeby Family Video vest, trailing behind him as he led you both to the action-film section.

Steve had stood close enough that you could feel the warmth emanating from him, and had helped debate your choice. He didn’t even comment when you got distracted looking at his arms when he crossed them, even though he smiled a little more smugly, having seen your wandering eyes.

Like it was your fault he had gorgeous, tanned, toned arms that made you want to drool.

But even with all his suaveness, Steve still looked surprised when you laughed at his joke, or his attempt at one — and then some of his coolness seemed to flee.

He had fumbled through the whole interaction of checking out your film and asked if you’d like to ‘maybe if you want, totally cool if not’, wanted to watch one with him sometime.

You think you’d say yes all over again just to see the way he had lit up. He positively beamed, then swiftly ducked his head to hide his hasty grin.

Saturday at 8, you’d agreed on. At the Hawk. He’d pay for the tickets and you’d shout the snacks. It’s a date, were his exact words. He had looked extra delighted when you had repeated them back to him with a nervous grin of your own.

It’s what you think of as you peer down at the letter in your hands, loopy scrawls telling a plea in love. You think about what you hope you’ll get on a first date — with Steve or anyone, for that matter — and pull up a new sheet to draft a response.

It’s about the only advice you can give. Truthfully, dates fail for a multitude of reasons that change on a day-to-day basis and if this S just didn’t match with their date, well… that was out of your hands.

But if S liked them this much, enough to reach out to the murky depths of the local paper’s advice column, then they should show that. If nothing else, you’re sure their date would be flattered at their sincerity.

Try as you might not, the letter plagues your mind as you leave work. Your response sits on your desk, penned up and ready to be printed for the Friday morning paper, hopefully giving enough time to your advice-seeking S.

By Saturday, however, it’s the last thing on your mind — it’s hard for anything else to occupy it when it bubbles away blissfully at the thought of your date later in the evening.

You try to not let your thoughts carry away with what Steve might wear, what film you’d watch, whether you’d be able to sneakily hold his hand in the shadows of the cinema.

It plays a romantic pink-saturated loop in your brain, daydreaming of some silly kiss in the back row because Steve just can’t resist, he’s had a crush on you for so long— okay, maybe the letter was on your mind just a little.

But 8 o’clock whirls around faster than you expect and you arrive outside the cinema with only a couple minutes to spare. You’re more than relieved to see Steve already there, leaning up against the brick wall where the upcoming movies are showcased, bathed in soft golden light. 

He’s got on a pair of dark wash jeans and the polo he’s wearing stretches around his arms deliciously, forcing a giddy sigh from your lips.

There’s a jacket slung over his crossed arms and one of his feet is tapping rapidly against the ground. Even from afar, you can see him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Your heart spurs faster at the sight. He’s nervous.

“Steve!” You call out, unable to help how you’re already smiling like a lovesick fool. It doesn’t help when Steve’s head pops up, his hair bouncing just a bit. He lights up at the sight of you, features moving from worry to something happier. 

He straightens up, back scraping the bricks, and he steps forward to meet you in the middle.

“Hey,” he breathes, a grin stretching over his lips. This close, you can smell the cologne he’s wearing— something musky, with a hint of bergamot — and your head spins, all dizzy with delight.

“Hey, yourself.” You reply as playfully as you can manage. You swallow back another wave of nerves.

Fuck, was he this pretty when he asked you out? In the space of a couple of days, he seems to have gotten even more attractive. He’s got that entire look about him that reminds you of a daydream.

“You look, uh, really lovely tonight.” Steve compliments, tucking his hands into his front pockets nervously. He sounds so sincere it aches, the words worming under your skin til you believe them completely; he really does think you look lovely.

It’s a strange moment of consideration you find yourself having. You’re here, on a date with Steve Harrington and he thinks you look really lovely.

It’s not like you hadn’t heard the rumours about the cosmic shift in the King of Hawkins High — going from sneering at other kids in the hallways to cleaning off graffiti on his own accord. 

Yet, some small part of you is still delightfully surprised, as though it had been unconvinced until you had seen it for yourself. In the past, a part of you had been truly miffed at the waste of a pretty face on a douchebag like King Steve. 

Now, it’s like an entirely different person. When Steve offers you another smile, earnest and sweet, you’re secretly glad to get to be the one who takes a chance on him.

You come to a standstill at the back of the winding line outside the ticket booth, the pair of you lingering closer than needed. The brush of his shoulder against your own feels blazing, a streak of warmth. You hope he can’t feel your resounding shiver— and half-hope that he does and gets closer because of it.

“That— uh, thank you,” you manage to remember your words. Even better, you manage to accept the compliment semi-regularly, even though your insides are knitting themselves into a tangle of nervous anticipation.

“You too. Look nice!” You say, louder than you intend. The girl ahead of you peers over her shoulder and somehow even that’s not enough to keep your mouth from running. “I mean, you sort of always look good. That’s kinda—” you wave your hand over him generally, “—your thing. Looking… nice.”

Dear god stop, you will yourself, mouth snapping shut and eyes following quickly, screwed up in embarrassment. Way to completely disregard the advice you gave a stranger and pile on the appearance-based compliments.

You do your best to hide your wince as you peek your eyes back open. It’s a relief to see Steve chuckle good-naturedly, a delicate pink touching the apples of his cheeks.

“You know,” Steve begins as the line ambles forward slowly. His gaze switches between the ground and you, too nervous to commit to looking you straight on. “I didn’t just ask you out because you’re pretty.” 

He pauses. Rethinks his words and makes a hasty correction. “I do! Think that you’re pretty, that is.”

His quick assurance makes you laugh just a bit and you hide it behind a bitten-back smile. Steve stops examining his shoes for a moment, glancing to check you haven’t taken his words the wrong way.

Your heart feels like it does a forward roll in your chest, seeing his even pinker cheeks. God, in what world do you make Steve Harrington so nervous?

“I just—” Steve continues, shoulders hiking up a bit, another nervous motion. “I don’t want you to think that that’s the only reason, I asked. I like that you’re nice. You’ve always been nice.”

You blink at him. In a moment of clarity, a couple of revelations roll through your mind, each one steamrolling the last one before you can grapple each one properly.

Revelation No. 1. is the fact that Steve had noticed you. Past tense. Noticed you enough to think you’re nice and bookmark that in his brain. He remembers things about you. And then— then he had made a special effort to compliment you. Specifically outside of your appearance.

And hadn’t you just given specific advice like that? You had! You had given advice to an anonymous person known only as S, with instructions for their first date. Their first date with their long-time crush.

Which means... you’re Steve Harrington’s long-term crush. Which means, oh my god, Steve Harrington accidentally wrote into your job to ask you for advice on his date with you.

The result of the revelations, each one blooming quickly as the one before it, leaves you entirely speechless for a moment. Baffled. You gape like a fish, mouth flapping around empty words. You can’t quite compute it. Steve? Steve is the one who wrote to the local paper for advice? Steve Harrington wrote in for advice about a date with you? His long-term crush?

You’re thankful Steve’s nervous enough to not look at you because, for a silent 10 seconds, you’re sure every emotion from ecstatic and bewildered crosses your features. What in the actual hell?

You’re not sure how you expect yourself to continue this date and act like a regular person, knowing what you know.

And, more importantly, should you tell Steve? 

You get about 10 more seconds of floundering to debate it, tossing up a thousand different ways this entire evening could change if you reveal yourself.

Steve would be embarrassed. Steve would be angry. Steve wouldn’t believe you and just think you’re messing with him. Steve didn’t even write the letter and you’ve connected dots that don’t even exist.

You can’t pinpoint which one is the truth. You truthfully don’t know Steve well enough to predict how he might react, no matter how sweet he may have been. A realisation of how quiet you’ve been rolls through you when Steve’s head pulls up, concern knitting his brows together.

Something else altogether comes out of your mouth instead.

“You noticed me?”

Steve goes even more red. It’s a glorious sight and in an instant, you can tell he hasn’t meant to give that much away. The line shuffles forward and Steve seems thankful for it, clearing his throat and eyeing the ticket box ahead like he was wishing you were both there already. There’s only one more couple ahead of you.

“Is that weird?” He says after a moment, his voice a bit smaller than before.

“What?” You say, because it’s the last thing you’re expecting him to say. “No! I’m sorry I didn’t— that wasn’t an accusation!”

You mull over your thoughts, trying your best to put into words how it had actually made you feel. How it had soaked your inside with giddiness, not with worry. 

“It’s... really sweet, actually.” You admit, feeling bold enough to nudge your shoulder against his.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, the question said so earnestly it’s like he’s not quite sure he believes you.

“I mean,” You smile, sneaking a nervous glance sideways at him. He’s watching you, expression hinting at anticipation. You nod, continuing, “I’m glad you didn’t just ask me out because you think I’m pretty.”

The last word comes out a bit strained. It feels strange to admit it out loud even with the way Steve looks at you; little glitters of adoration in his eyes.

“It’s-” You clear your throat and bite back a smile that might be too eager. “It’s nice to be noticed.” 

Steve makes a small sound of content, like some sort of pleased hum. Then the couple ahead of you is moving and it’s your turn to step up for tickets.

You hurry through tickets and snacks, getting a packet of Reese's Pieces, some popcorn, and one huge cup of soda with two neon-coloured straws sticking out. When you duck through the velvet curtains at the theatre doors, arm already looped through Steve’s, it feels like you’re entering not as two people but as something closer. 

The evening whirls by in a lavender haze and Steve is nothing short of everything sweet and charming. Even with his nerves tripping him up now and then, it’s all endearing to you.

You two are the last ones out of the cinema, ushered out by bored employees whose glaring only deepened when they realised you and Steve had conducted a popcorn throwing competition between yourselves. You had been left in the dust, with Steve catching near every piece you threw at him. You were less gracious, salt smearing on your cheeks from so many missed throws. 

By the time you’re both back out the front, the night has found a chill to drape across the evening. The sky glitters darkly. The bulbs surrounding the front of the cinema glow and crackle quietly and you’re pleasantly delighted to find you don’t want to leave just yet.

“Hey,” Steve starts. He’s stuffed his hands in his pockets but you can see them twisting about nervously. “Yanno, I had a really good time tonight.”

You can see the moment he bites his tongue and holds back another sentence. You smile as encouragingly as you can — though something about how well the night has gone has your courage growing, doubling, tripling in size.

“Me too.” You admit. You ignore how your palms start to dampen just a titch and seize the words before your nerve fails you. “Did you— do you want to do it again, maybe?”

Steve nods, a stray strand of his hair escaping with the enthusiasm of the motion. He chuckles a bit, pushes it back, and steps closer. “Yes. I mean, yes, of course. You’re... this was so lovely.”

There’s a stir ecstatically in your chest in his words, which drip in sincerity. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, head ducked in shyness. It’s still strange, for someone to be so forward in their affections to you. “Um, should I- I could give you my number?”

Steve nods again, just as fervently as last time. He���s somehow gotten closer in just the few minutes you’ve been speaking like there’s a magnetism within you that he can’t resist.

“Yeah, totally! Did you — I don’t have a pen, I’m sorry,” He chuckles again. His hand scratches at the back of his neck.

You’re thankful for your insane preparedness, digging through your bag to produce a pen. By the time you pop the cap off it, a green marker, Steve’s already rolled back his sleeve. He holds out his arm.

“Your canvas awaits,” He jokes. Your smile grows into a grin, almost ashamed of how funny you found that. God, crushes made you stupid — though thankfully Steve seems to grin wider at hearing your laugh.

You curl your fingers around his wrist to hold his arm still. He’s warm, hot blood pumping beneath your touch. You try not to focus on how you can feel his pulse under your fingertips, nor how it’s racing far faster than normal. After your number, you hesitate for a moment before adding a quick doodle of a heart. It’s sloppy, not exactly your best work. 

Steve loves it. The moment you release his arm, he thumbs over the heart. Steve looks up at you, an infectious type of smile on his face now. “I’ll give you a call, yeah?”

You nod, tucking your hands in your pocket. You’re unable to stop yourself from rocking up onto the balls of your feet in your excitement. 

“Uh, you should probably call after 9 unless you want to meet my mom already.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Got it. After 9. No meeting mom just yet.” He promises.

This time, reading the letter feels like there’s sparking gunpowder littered in your very heart — lighting it up in a frenzy of fire in your chest as you read. It’s impossible to do anything except inhale each new word. You felt a little bad, sure, reading a review of your own date but then again, it was your job.

Besides, you’d tell Steve. When... Well, alright, you weren’t totally sure when you were going to tell him.

Definitely not before the next date. It was still fragile — and some part knew that if you told him, there was a good chance Steve would be too embarrassed. Would work himself up over it and it would ruin everything.

It was like... a souffle. You had to take it out of the oven at the right time; too soon, and everything would sink in on itself.

So, you decided to wait it out. Dish out some more advice and... see how the next date went.

You write back, There isn’t such a thing as giving too much away. This girl will be flattered to know you care as much as you do. Take her somewhere special to you.

It’s just enough of a nudge you think. ‘Somewhere special’ was a wide-open prompt that Steve could interpret as he liked. He could pick just how intimate the next date would be. You promise to yourself quietly, that if you get a third date, you’ll tell him then. 

Steve calls you the night after your responding advice is published in The Hawkins Post. 10 minutes past 9pm. He tells you, voice low and sweet, that he’s got a surprise spot in mind.

“If you’re up for that,” Steve hastily tacks on. “We don’t have to. I’m- we can go out for dinner if you’d prefer that. I totally love dinner.”

Faintly through the phone, you hear the quiet noise, like a thud. You have to smother down a giggle as you realise Steve’s smacked himself with the phone in his own exasperation.

“I’m up for a surprise,” You assure him, clutching the phone a bit tighter in your excitement. “That sounds fun.”

“Fun,” Steve echoes, with a tone of disbelief. Like he hadn’t believed you’d agree until, well, you had. “Yes! It’ll be fun. So much. I hope so. When are you free?”

His words come out so quickly. You can’t hide your laugh this time, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to try to dissuade the giddy grin threatening your lips. No dice. Nothing can stop your elation.

“What kind of surprise are we talking about?” You ask first, thinking over your next words, wondering if you’re brave enough to say them. You take the leap. “Because, well, I know it’s a Tuesday but I’m free tomorrow night and—“

“Yes.” Steve cuts in eagerly. “Tomorrow night, let’s do it. I can pick you up?”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding even though he can’t see it. You don’t think your grin can’t get any wider, barely contained enough to relay your address for him to jot down.

Tuesday evening is soft, the sky a pale blue that washes warmth over the day. Steve picks you up on time. He’s handsome as ever, leaning up against the driver's side door as he waits for you.

Your heart does a little skip when he straightens up upon spotting you, perking up like he had at the cinema. It reminds you faintly of a dog wagging its tail; his happiness at seeing you so visible to see. 

“Did you get prettier since the last time I saw you?” He says, in lieu of greeting as you trot down to meet him. You feel heat bloom beneath your cheeks.

“I-” Your nerves creep up and honesty takes over your words. “I don’t know how to answer that.” You titter out a laugh, a smile tugging at your mouth.

Steve hums as you come to a stop before him. He pretends to give you a serious once over, his eyes light and smile easy. His gaze comes back up to rest on your face before he nods firmly.

“Mmhm, it’s just as I expected.” He reports back, soft and genuine. “Prettier in every way.”

You laugh again, nervousness bleeding into the sound but his words sink into your skin warmly. Fingers twisting into your sweater, you try to rein in your rabbiting heart.

“You’re a goof, anyone ever tell you?”

Steve grins. “Never said I wasn’t. Now, your chariot awaits.”

He sweeps an arm to the car behind him.

He’s right, it is a surprise. You’re not entirely sure where you’d been anticipating — maybe his favourite spot to eat? But instead, he takes you to a clearing, with blankets of grass and wildflowers dotted across the landscape.

For a moment, when you creep out from his car, hands still clutching the edge of the door, you wonder if this is how he found Skull Rock and the likes — that maybe Steve Harrington was an explorer by nature. You think back to your advice and wonder; what makes this place special to him? 

Your heart twists, knowing that he’s taken your advice, even if some part of you tears up in guilt. You will tell him. You take solace in knowing there’s not much to be guilty of; telling him the best way to woo you is hardly terrible manipulation.

Sure, it’s swindling but... of the sweetest kind. You lead him to your heart and in return, get to steal his own.

Steve’s brought along a blanket and picnic for the two of you. There are crudely cut sandwiches, though you don’t doubt he’s tried his best, paired with punnets of ripe fat strawberries. It’s... adorable. Dizzily endearing, how much effort he’s put in for you.

Your heart aches a little more at his pink cheeks as he unpacks all this for you like he’s worried what you’ll think. He is worried about what you’ll think, you realise. Despite all you’ve heard and known about King Steve, your mind winds up thinking back to his letter... I don’t want her to get freaked out if I come on too strong.

A fire of determination burns in your chest. Loving loudly would never be— could never be something to hide. Nor to feel embarrassed over, not with you at least.

So, you start by trying to feed him a strawberry, like a thousand romance novels have taught you. Instead of a cute gesture, you smush it into his cheek instead by accident as he turns his face suddenly. An apology squeaks out of you.

“I’m— oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You’re wiping the red juice splattered on his cheek, your own cheeks feeling fiery and hot. Steve takes your endless apologies well, assuring away the beginnings of your mortification.

He only manages to truly stop your flow of embarrassed apologies by squishing a sandwich against your cheek as well, just to make it fair — a peel of your laughter fills the field, some of your nervousness floating away with it.

Then, just as you had, Steve wipes off the smear of cream cheese on your chin with his thumb, the motion soft and gentle. Your nerves jump around again.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you begin, finally asking the question that’s been burning since you arrived. “Because I’m loving this date but… Why did you pick this spot?” 

You’re careful to word your question in a way that doesn’t give away what else you know. Beside you, Steve takes a moment to think. His eyes scan over your face before he tilts it back to face the clearing, his arms resting on his propped up knees.

He’s just a boy. A pretty boy on a picnic rug he brought along to your date, in a field of flowers that he took you to. You have the thought to compare him to a painting in this moment right as Steve starts to speak.

“I came up here a whole lot after,” Steve heaves a loud sigh like he’s regretful for what he’s about to bring up. “After me and Nancy broke up. It was good to get out of town and just, like, have my own time to think. To think about what I really wanted.” 

You dare to ask. “And did you figure it out? What you really wanted?” 

Steve glances over at you and smiles crookedly. It’s one of his real smiles, you’ve come to realise. “To not get my heart broken again, for starters. That just— that shit sucked, you know?” 

He laughs a little bitterly, more to himself, and steals another glance at you, like his words are a test and he’ll find an answer in your expression. You smile gently, hoping to convey every softness that you have for him. Every good intent. 

“Well, m’not looking to do that.” You admit truthfully. “Maybe, I’ll… I’ll ease the ache?” 

Steve seems to soften at your words, relaxing. His shoulders drop an inch. “I hope so.” 

“And maybe, I want a little bit of loverboy Steve Harrington for myself too.” You say, your smile turning more coy. It’s true that loverboy was one of the nicknames for Steve tossed around Hawkins High halls but it hadn’t really stuck the same way The Hair or King Steve had. Except for, well, secretly with you.

“Loverboy?” 

“That’s what they call you!” 

“And who are they?” Steve asks, some of his signature charm creeping back in. He smirks at you, leaning in closer and your breath hitches nervously. You grin despite it. 

“People!” 

“Uh huh…” 

Time flows easily around the two of you, weaving like the softest cocoon. As the sunset blossoms, the grassy clearing becomes breathtaking. The moment the sun dips below the horizon, dimming the sky and encouraging out the stars, you suddenly know why this is Steve’s special spot.

He stretches out on his back, eyes to the sky. You copy him. Two little bodies cocooned in the sweet grass, wrapped in the night-time.

“This might seem strange,” Steve starts. His brows are bunched together, thinking hard, but his expression lightens as he turns his face to you. “But... Thank you for coming out here with me. For trusting me.”

A beat of quiet. A wind ruffles over the clearing, a soft whistle in the night. Steve swallows nervously. “Was it a good surprise?”

His question is so earnest it aches. It’s so obvious that he just wants to do this right and well for you.

You know now that even without your advice through the paper, Steve would have charmed you all the same. That you might’ve taken another route and it might’ve taken another couple of dates before you got here, sharing secret spots— but that you’d end up here, with him, regardless.

“It was,” you tell him truthfully, chest glittering with happiness. You smile at him, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Thank you for showing me.”

Steve grins. He turns back to face the sky, eyes cinching shut for a moment. Breathes in the moment. You admire the dimple of his smile. His pretty mouth. His eyes peek back open as turns back to you, voice dropped down into a whisper, “You’re welcome.”

It feels like a little more than you’re welcome — like maybe, he’s thanking you too. You’re really thanking yourself too, for wandering into Family Video when you had, for saying yes to Steve, for giving yourself this chance with him.

Moonlight shadows across his face, strong brows and sloped nose even more defined in the dark. You stare, eyes dragging from mole to mole, avoiding his intense brown eyes that threaten to make everything in your chest melt pathetically.

Shit, is he going to kiss you? Your stomach jumps with a spike of pure want and you move forward— right as Steve sits up. Embarrassment flushes down your spine and you recoil back, sitting up quickly as Steve had but not quick enough.

“Wait,” Steve says suddenly, twisting to glance at where you’d both been lying just a moment. In your panic, you don’t hear the eagerness in his voice. “Were you gonna—?”

Somehow, it seems more embarrassing to admit it aloud. That you might have been ballsy enough to kiss Steve first. You shake your head without thinking about it, arms coming to curl around your knees. Fuck, you wish you had read that moment right.

“Uh,” You spit out stupidly. “No, no, it was just…” you clear your throat. The awkwardness of the moment is nearly painful.

“I mean, yes,” you correct yourself quietly, clearing your throat again. You don’t want Steve to think you don’t want to kiss him. “I was, but—“

“You were?” Steve sounds close to devastation. His expression has crumpled a bit, regret rippling off him in waves. Your stomach turns.

“It’s okay!” You assure him hurriedly. “It’s— you know, the moments gone but there’s always… next time, right?” Your voice comes out a bit tight.

Steve seems a tad bit relieved at your words, shoulders deflating an inch or so. He nods along, even though you can still see the tinge of embarrassment on his face — it’s adorable, that he’s the one feeling embarrassed like it wasn’t you who made a move at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” Steve hasn’t stopped nodding, even as his gaze has travelled off you, staring down at his hands. The furrow in his brow hasn’t eased up, still drawn together in the middle, even as he agrees, “Yeah, next time. Uh, totally.”

Then, his head jerks up in your direction. “I’m sorry, by the way, I didn’t mea—“

You wave him off, a nervous chuckle coming out. You sort of want to bury your missed kiss along with all your humiliation but with every other word but Steve keeps kicking off the dirt. “Seriously, it’s fine, Steve. Really.”

His nod isn’t all that convincing to say he believes you.

Regret festers deep in your gut when the evening seems to derail from that point on. Try as you might, you can tell Steve is stuck in his own head; no doubt hounding himself for the strange rebuff he’d given you.

It would be endearing, that he’s so twisted up inside over it, if it didn’t seep awkwardness into the remainder of your date. You wish you hadn’t tried to kiss him.

The car ride to drop you home is absent of the sweet conversation you’d had when he’d picked you up. Words lull, just an oddly tense air between you two. You’re not sure how to fix this.

When Steve pulls up to the curb, the engine idling with a low rumble, you don’t open the door, not yet. Instead, you turn to Steve.

He’s already waiting, already looking over at you, a hint of worry in his expression — though, it’s gone in a flash.

Steve peels his white-knuckled grip off the steering wheel, pressing his hands into his thighs nervously. He gives a strange sort of chuckle and exhales.

“Right,” He starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I know that— well, obviously, that wasn’t how I’d hoped that would go at the end and—”

He pauses, eyes scrunching shut with a groan as he tries to collect his words. The next sentence looks like it takes effort to grind out. “I would understand, is all, if you decided you didn’t want to go out again—”

“I do.” 

“—because that was, well- wait, what?”

Steve forces his eyes open and doesn’t even try to hide his astonishment. Your heart throbs achingly at his obvious surprise.

“I do want to go out again.” You nod along with your words. Being so sincere makes you feel a bit naked, forcing your vulnerability out into the open so that you don’t let him spiral. But you’d rather deal with that discomfort that let Steve get the wrong idea.

“Yeah?” Steve breathes. He seems to remember himself, picking his hands off his lap and draping them over the steering wheel. They tap at it lightly. Still nervous. “I’ll— I’ll call you?”

You nod again. For a brief moment, you think of how dates are supposed to end with kisses, or so you’re told. Your eyes dip down to his lips.

You want to. Even just pressing a peck to his cheek might satisfy your churning, growing urge to kiss him — but you certainly don’t have enough courage scraped together after his accidental rebuff.

A little part of you whispers meanly that it may not have been so accidental.

“After 9pm, remember?” You hear yourself say with a smile. Opening the door, you step out onto the sidewalk and close it gently behind you.

Then you deliver Steve one more smile, one more look back, because that’s the bravest you can be at the moment.

He doesn’t call the next night.

Or the night after.

You’re certainly not expecting another letter from Steve, especially considering how your phone has sat idle and quiet in its cradle since your date on Tuesday. Ringing, but not for you.

But come Friday morning— there is it.

Another letter, scribbled in handwriting you’re coming to recognise. Your heart stammers through the next couple beats as you realise what it is, who has sent it.

This time, you nearly consider not reading it. For him and for you, you consider letting it get lost in the piles of paper, never seen, never read. But burning curiosity wins, coddled by your bruised ego.

This letter is messier and more hurried than its predecessors, letters looping together all slanted.

And…oh.

A small worry in you settles. Changes and transforms into something warmer as you realise he hasn’t called you because he’s waiting for advice first. Waiting, unknowingly, for you to answer him.

You genuinely think the space where your heart is supposed to be is empty — that the organ has melted down like gooey candle wax, dripping down your ribcage in burning hot affection. Your chest aches in the best way.

You’d never understood films where girls lie on their beds and kick their feet up, doodling hearts on paper. The urge is suddenly quite overwhelming. Christ. Steve really likes you.

He hadn’t called you back because— because part of him thinks you wouldn’t want him too. That one missed kiss would be the dealbreaker, even after those lovely dates.

You want to scoff, to laugh, to track down Steve and grip him by the shoulders and say, ‘I think you’re stuck with me if you’ll have me!’

You settle for pulling out a fresh sheet to draft your response.

It’s a bit of a gamble, considering the part about the stars is complete codswallop. The newspaper doesn’t even technically have an astrologist; the horoscopes are auto-generated every week. You’re praying Steve won’t know that.

The paper goes to print on Friday evening, for the early weekend morning the day after. Saturday morning, there’s a call of your name downstairs and you’re halfway down the stairs when you pause at the sight of your mom on the phone.

“Someone on the phone for you,” She comments, the smallest raise of her eyebrows. You ignore the way that makes you hot inside, rushing down the end of the stairs to rescue who you hope is Steve on the other end of the phone. Your mom skirts away but not without one more meaningful glance back at you.

You turn and face the other way, giving away nothing. You’re sure you sound a bit breathless as you speak into the receiver, “Hello?”

A crackle on the other end.

“Hi.” A voice says nervously. There’s a moment’s pause. “It’s Steve.”

You fight off a combination of responses; a girlish squeal and a hefty sigh of relief. He called. The cord of the phone loops around your fingers automatically.

“Hey,” You say, aiming for casual. You’re not sure if it comes out that way.

A small part of you doesn’t mind if he hears your poorly tamped down excitement — an even smaller part wants him to. There’s something different about this call, knowing what you know.

“I’m real sorry it took so long to call,” Steve says, voice genuine. He clearly feels the need to explain his silence. You suppose if you hadn’t received his letter, you might still be feeling a bit confused and bummed out. “I— I’ll tell you all about why tomorrow? If you’re free?”

It’s sickeningly sweet that he still sounds so nervous.

“Of course,” you say. “It’s—” It crosses your mind to tell him, here and now, to explain that you knew exactly why he took so long to call you. You fumble and something else comes out instead. “I’m- I’m glad you called, Steve.”

“Me too.”

Your cheeks ache a bit with the force of your grin. The cord of the phone loops over your finger again and again as you sink against the wall, clutching the phone tighter and pull yourself together,

“So, what’s the plan?”

“You, me, maybe head over to Indianapolis and try out the new golfing game they just set up over there? That sound… good to you?”

It sounds very good to you. 

“I can’t say I’ve ever played golf.” You admit.

A little worry piques up about making a fool of yourself, then settles quickly. Steve wouldn’t make fun of you. If you sucked, you’re actually sure he’d find some way to spin it all romantic style.

“I’ll teach you.”

“You’ve played?”

“Never,” You can hear Steve’s smile through the phone. “But can’t be that hard right?”

—

There’s a lot of thought that goes into what to wear, evident in the holes you must be wearing in your carpet from pacing across it. Restless energy drives you, some labyrinth of nerves and anticipation knotted in your gut. 

Spread out before you on the bed lies everything you own in the colour yellow.

If she wears yellow, it’s your sign. Make your move.

Your own words— well, Gabby’s words, delivered to Steve via the Hawkins Post on how to know if he’s earned your heart like you know he so desperately wants to. You want to show him he has — in a way that seems like a goddamn sign from the universe.

The skirt is one of your nicer ones.

Along the waistline, embroidered flowers are stitched into the fabric and it swishes in just the way you love. Best of all is the dreamy buttery colour, like the colour that bleeds through at the beginning of a sunset, when the sky starts to change at dusk. It’s yellow as yellow comes — for good reason. 

You want him to see you and know.

For the sign to be so unanimously yes that he doesn’t have any space for the same doubts that tornadoed up in his head after your last date.

The type of giddiness that can only be spurred on by crushes and love alike spins up inside you, like sugar catching in a wheel and turning to cotton candy. You’re so sweet on him it’s making you feel gaga. 

You’re also terrified — because you have to tell him now. Inklings of anxiety settle in your chest, leaving little notches in your ribs that twinge a little bit. You really don’t want Steve to leave your life, not now that he’s just come into it.

A little part of you regrets not telling him on the first date, when all your revelations rolled into one big Oh My God! outside of the Hawk cinema.

You hadn’t told him though, so you need to tell him now. And then again, if you’re asking Steve to trust in the stars then… maybe, so should you. 

The afternoon sun lights through the glass of your front door and coats the entrance hall in gold. Steve, as always, is on time. You’re barely down the stairs, the clock chiming at 1 o’clock, when a familiar toot! sounds from out front. Your fingers stress with the fabric of your skirt, smoothing it down for the nth time. 

Here goes… everything. 

You open the door to step you and you startle in surprise to find there’s already someone on the doorstep. 

The door snicks shut behind you, bumping your forward an inch, and the warmth of the afternoon sweeps across your skin.

Steve’s staring downwards, one hand adjusting his ringer t-shirt nervously and the other holding together a fresh bouquet of flowers- sunflowers.

He got you sunflowers. 

Yellow, yellow, yellow. There seems to be a theme to your love. 

His head shoots up at the sound of your entrance, his eyes snagging on your sunny-coloured skirt which shifts in the wind. You swear you can hear his breath hitch as he takes in the colour, a smile blooming wide across his face.

Remembering his manners, Steve clears his throat and tears his eyes off your skirt but it’s too late — the buttery yellow has done its job and he knows. 

His grin has turned brazen and wild. Confidence rolls his shoulder back a bit and his chest puffs out. He looks so handsome it makes you hopelessly nervous. 

“These are…” Steve holds the flowers out but his words trail off. His eyes back on the ground as he thinks, hard, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

In a second, he seems to come to a decision because he’s stepping closer to you, so close that if you both leaned in a couple more inches, your nose would brush his chin. He holds the sunflowers purposefully out the way, mindful of crushing them. 

He smells very nice, you realise. The scent of his cologne inspires a flustering reaction; you’re sure there must be cartoon hearts swimming above your head. You reign in your thoughts before they get away from you.

“Look, I messed up our last kiss and honestly, until recently I didn’t even know that was something I was even capable of doing.” Steve huffs a laugh, his throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

His eyes screw shut for just a moment, gathering his thoughts, or perhaps his courage. Maybe both. 

“But, I am. I’m- I feel like a fool around you and I miss these little cues because I’m trying to think of the right thing to say or— or because I can’t stop looking at you. And it’s because I like you. I really like you.” 

He inhales a shuddering breath. The sun beams make his eyes two shades lighter. 

“I’ve been confused and lost in love once before and it means that some days I’m not even sure what that feeling even is, what I’m looking for, but… I think it may feel a lot like you.” 

There is it, presented forward to you. His heart on his sleeve, bleeding for you. 

His affections are so transparent it makes you ache for him more. Sunlight seems to fill your chest, burning in its ardor and the tenderness soon follows.

You feel the fondness you have for him, just a seedling of new love, taking root deep in your heart. A part of you suspects it may have snuck in there far earlier, nestling in sometime between your longing glancing and shared smiles. 

“And now, I really, really want to kiss you.” Steve says, the words so earnest they scrape on the way up his throat.

His brown eyes are searching your face as his free hand rises, hesitating for only a moment before it finds a home curled along your jaw. “And get a chance to get it right this time.” 

“Steve,” you whisper. His name makes your mouth tender like no other word can. “Kiss me.” 

His fingers slide along your jaw and touch the edges of your hair as he inches nearer and your heart lurches up your throat in anticipation. His lips are quivering ever so slightly, you notice. 

And then his lips are on yours. 

He kisses your mouth with all the adoration of a familiar long-time lover, deep and longing. Pushing up on your toes, your hands grasp at his shirt, the fabric twisting between your fingers as you pull him closer. It’s… lovely.

Your heart aches and soars, beating as one with him as his kiss sets a fire aflame within you. You are officially and utterly enraptured by Steve Harrington and all he is, but especially his kisses. You already miss the last of his lips when Steve breaks the kiss. 

He doesn’t move back, staying close, and the tip of his nose bumps against yours. He’s sporting a grin that rivals the day in sunshine. 

“You wore yellow,” He says, voice doused in awe. 

Oh. That’s right. His words are a swift kick to reality. You pull back just a bit, hands flattening out on his chest, just so you can see his face properly because you know if you’re too close, you might fall victim to his brown eyes. 

“About that…” 

Steve blinks and takes a second to realise that he must have spoken aloud. He chuckles, a hint of embarrassment in the noise, and rushes to explain. “That was— that must’ve sounded-” 

“I’m Gabby.” You interrupt before he can get carried away. 

Steve frowns, confusion creasing between his brows. “What? I thought your name was—” 

“No!” You jump in again, biting down your smile at his adorable misunderstanding. “I-I mean I write as Gabby. From the Hawkins Post.” 

Steve blinks at you again. His face blanches and then, it’s like watching fruit ripen, the apples of his cheek getting pinker and pinker with every passing second.

He splutters, a myriad of emotions overtaking his features; surprise, bewilderment, embarrassment. He jumps from one to the other in an instant.

“You- you’re— and you?”

There’s not really a proper sentence coming from Steve, just bucket loads of endearing and unneeded embarrassment radiating off him, so warm you can nearly feel it. Steve sputters for another second before he finally manages to spit out a sentence. 

“The whole time?” 

You have the decency to look sheepish when you nod. Steve steps back for a moment and you try to ignore the spike of fear it invokes in you — he buries his face in his hands, squishing the flowers against his hair, and releases a pitiful sounding groan into his palms. After a moment, he drags his hands down his face and peeks up at you. 

“The whole time?” Steve asks again, in a meek whisper.

“I’m sorry!” You squeak out, guilt beginning to overflow. Oh god, you’ve deceived him and he hates you—

“No, no, no,” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, which then cards through his hair. He’s still looking a bit frazzled but his eyes finally focus back on you.

“It’s not— Oh, man, I can’t believe it was you. No wonder the advice worked so well! This is- this is a new kind of embarrassing—” 

Steve groans again, though his smile is starting to return. “I can’t believe you still went out with me once you figured it out. God, I knew that writing in was a bit pathetic, it’s gotta be like a—” He holds his hand out flat, hovering at chest height. “Top ten loser move of all time and you still—.” 

“No, it’s not!” You insist, stepping forward to close the gap between you. You shake your head, eager to convince him of how it had seemed from your side; a sweet love letter from someone who cared enough to try to get things right.

“It was sweet and honest. Before I even knew it was you, reading that first letter, I… I wanted it to be you.” You admit, a bit bashfully. 

Steve takes a moment to look at you, eyes dancing down to look at your yellow skirt which swishes as another breeze passes by. Warm afternoon air cocooning around you, you look the picture of devastatingly pretty, dolled up for a date with him. You’ve seen this dorky and little bit pathetic side of him, with his desperate search for advice and missed kisses and yet… you’re still here. 

“You did? You mean that? You don’t think it was… weird?” 

You shake your head, a few strands of hair escaping from behind your ear. Steve thinks about tucking them back for you. He doesn’t feel brave enough yet.

“I mean that. I— it was crazy when I figured it out and I sort of thought it was just wishful thinking but, definitely not weird.” 

You hold your hand up, fingers nearly pinched together with only a few centimetres between them. You squint, smile overtaking your lips before you can stop it. “Was just a little bit funny, though.” 

Steve laughs, head tipping forward to hide his rosy cheeks. He peers back up at you through his lashes, a new twinkle in his eyes. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?” 

“I didn’t plan it!” You splutter out, defending yourself. “It was- it was just a freaky coincidence.” 

“A freaky coincidence?” Steve’s brows hike up an inch. His smile turns into a smirk and he rocks up on the balls of his feet, then steps back in closer to you. “Mmhm. Totally believe you.” 

“Doesn’t sound like you do.” 

“Weren’t you the one who told me to trust in the stars? You should take your own advice, really.” 

He leans in so close that you think he’s about to kiss you. He doesn’t— just hovers an inch from your lips. 

“I’ve found it works astoundingly well.” He says, voice husky with how low it is.

You shiver a bit, delight zinging up your spine and try your best to not to smile too much because, well — as you find, it’s awfully hard to kiss someone properly when you’re cheesing out, grinning too wide. 

Good thing, neither you or Steve seem to mind very much.

[jpitha]

Do What it Takes

Everyone goes on and on about the humans, how strong they are, how dangerous their world is, their risk management (or lack thereof) and even their ability to process the rather worrying things they call “food.”

One thing I haven’t seen though is people discussing their… aspect that I find fascinating. They even have a word for it - grit. It’s this ability to take on unimaginable stress, and maintain that strength of resolve. That realization that the only thing they can do is endure. They even have a saying. “When you find yourself going through Hell, keep going.” Hell here is a substution for any kind of hard times they’re currently experiencing. It’s an idiom, don’t worry about the specific meaning of the word. The saying implies that if you’re “going through hell” then you need to keep going, because otherwise you won’t ever get out of the hard situation you find yourself in.

When it was first explained to me, a lot of what I saw about the humans snapped to place, like magnets on a table.

Once, back during the war I saw a single human shoulder a crew operated slug thrower and - by themselves - hold off an entire Zenni boarding party long enough for the rest of the ship to mount a defense. Not only did they shoulder and fire the weapon themselves, but they survived!

Others weren’t so lucky. I’ve heard tales of humans walking into active reactors to stop an overload, blinding themselves from ultraviolet radiation to repair a hull, and sustain withering gee forces to crush attackers. When asked why they’d do that, most of them replied that they just “did what they needed to” or that “they do what it takes.”

I’m not here to say that we can’t do that either. Having grit or strength of character isn’t solely a human development. But maybe as a result of the world they evolved on they tend to have grit in greater supply than other sapient species. They “do what it takes” because they’ve always had to do what it takes to survive.

A human friend has recently offered to take me to Earth, their homeworld to “see the sights.” His only warning about his own planet was that we should probably avoid some months. I asked why.

He waved his hand dismissively as if it was just a minor trifle, an inconvenience. “Oh, it’s hurricane season in the fall. I don’t know if you want to experience one of them.”

“What’s a hurricane?” I asked, cautiously.

“It’s a large storm that spins up over the ocean as the planets way to help remove some heat from the water. They can get pretty wild sometimes.”

When a human tells you that something can get “pretty wild” one’s fur tends to poof out.

I said I’d think about it, and went back to my cabin to research these Hurricanes. About an hour later I was shaking in my seat, glued to my pad watching video after video of houses just… disappearing in the wind and water.

The next day, I confronted him about the hurricanes. Once again, he was dismissive. “You get plenty of warning, and time to evacuate, they’re not that big of a deal.”

I bristled, and my ears twitched. “Not that big of a deal? But your homes get destroyed!”

He nodded. “True, that does happen. But, it’s not a surprise and we come prepared. You do what it takes if you want to live there.”

I think I’ll take him up on his offer.

[unoislazy]

Spar With Me

(Part 2)

Mizu x Reader

Summary: Not much sparring actually happens this time. But you still somehow wind up in an embarrassing position.

Disclaimers: light language, has not been proofread, shorter and way more embarrassing than the last chapter

Part One

Part Three

————————————————————

Some time had passed since the incident between you and Mizu. Neither of you had really said more than two words about it to each other or to anyone else. You said what you needed to and that was that in your eyes.

Although it remained awkward for a while, you two continued to get to know each other despite Mizu’s initial reluctance. He didn’t seem all that interested in talking to you at first, but after a while he eventually started answering back and making conversation.

“So… where did you grow up?” You asked, trying to start up a conversation as you all sat around the campfire that Ringo had set up. The small flames gave you a slight bit of comfort and warmth to counter the freezing cold that almost fully engulfed you. Your eyes shifted from the fire to look at Mizu, who yet again was simply staring ahead.

What was he thinking about? You wondered.

“Kohama.” He answered, then looked towards you. You smiled at the answer before replying,

“I’ve never been there before. What’s it like?” You asked. Normally you wouldn’t ask about people’s past, especially not someone who clearly had a rough one. But alas, there’s only so much you can get from a person without knowing what happened to make them who they are today.

Mizu’s eyes looked towards the fire, his chest moving heavily as he took a deep breath in and released a quiet sigh.

“It’s a nice place, especially this time of year. The people there are…” He hesitated to finish his sentence, luckily he didn’t have to because he had been interrupted by Ringo who came running back with a bunch of ingredients in hand.

“I have enough to make food for all of us!” He cheered loudly despite Mizu’s countless warnings for him to be quiet. You smiled at Ringo before looking back to Mizu who seemed to be lost in thought yet again.

For a man so serious about not getting distracted, he sure did get lost in thought quite a bit.

“Where did you learn to fight?” You asked pretty out of the blue, you didn’t know what compelled you to ask but you did. The man couldn’t help but let out a slight chuckle at your persistent questions. You were probably the most curious person he knew, well second to none other than Ringo of course. You constantly asked him questions, which sometimes he had to admit got a bit annoying, but he couldn’t help but enjoy having someone to actually talk to.

Mizu had gone so long living his life in solidarity that he had almost forgotten what having someone who cared by his side felt like. Last time he had that was well…

He didn’t want to remember.

“I was taken in by a blind man when I was very young. He taught me over the years.” He answered simply. You couldn’t help but absentmindedly scoot closer to Mizu, extremely interested in the fact that he had actually begun sharing parts of his life.

He noticed but didn’t think much of it.

“He made swords for the samurai who came to him but not every man who came left with a sword. He was very particular about who was worthy enough to wield a sword, and there was a reason for it. He even taught me how to make a sword of my own.” He shared, you glanced over to his katana that lay next to him on the fluffy snow. He gently picked it up, his long fingers caressing the outside of the sheath before ever so slightly showing the blade.

It shone a magnificent color, even in the shallow light of the fire, the design on the sword was more than enough to cause you to flat out gawk at it.

Sure you had seen him use the sword, and sure you had used swords of your own but there was a clear difference. None of the swords you used were yours, you were simply being a resourceful fighter when it came to it. Mizu’s sword however, it was clear that this was his sword.

You gently reached out your hand towards the sword, to which Mizu had cautiously pushed it towards you. Your fingertips gently glided atop the unsharpened edge of the blade. The metal was smooth and very cold. It nearly sent a shiver down your spine just by touching it. It didn’t take you too long before you took your hand off and looked back up at Mizu.

“Would you… teach me how to use one?” You asked. He turned to you with what you could almost make out as a surprised expression.

“I thought you already knew how to?”

“I know the basics… but I don’t know how to truly wield one.” You explained, earning a slight nod of acknowledgement from him. However, before he could just get up and offer to spar with you, he looked down and realized he was still drenched in blood. He had gotten into a massive fight not too long before you made camp and you supposed he had just forgotten given everything else going on.

To be fair, you too had stopped noticing after a while.

Without really another word, Mizu stood up and began walking away. He stopped just by some trees before stating , “I’ll be back.” And then off he went into the forest.

You had to admit he was quite an odd man, well other than his eye color and lack of stories to tell. He may have been odd but you couldn’t help but find him even the slightest bit attractive. When fighting, you couldn’t help yourself but to stare and watch as Mizu would masterfully take down several people at a time, all while making it look almost effortless. He seldom laughed or smiled but when he did it was like the gates of heaven had opened upon you just to shine a single beam of light through the form of his smile.

And his eyes. The one part that many people hated about him, yet you found them the most intriguing. His eyes were such a rare and striking blue, sure they came about due to a very upsetting reason, but they were beautiful nonetheless. They complimented his features in a way you couldn’t describe and it was upsetting to you that he couldn’t see just how beautiful you thought they looked.

Oh who were you kidding, you were in real deep when it came to feelings about him.

Ever since the last time you had sparred, you began to feel very different about Mizu. Ever since you had been held down underneath him.

It was such a simple thing really and it very quickly became less important than the true outcome of that exchange. But you still remembered it. The embarrassing yet… warm feeling you got as you stared up at him that fraction of a second before noticing his eyes. And even then that feeling didn’t go away.

He had only pinned you down for at most forty seconds, and yet that was the part that stuck with you the most. It was…

Not important.

None of that was important. You need to snap out of it, he’s not interested remember? He doesn’t need distractions, and you need to stop thinking about him.

You continued to argue with yourself, struggling to take your mind off the man before deciding, maybe you should just take a walk to clear your mind. How harmful could that be? A nice walk through the snow covered forest bathed in moonlight. Sounds relaxing just thinking about it.

You stood up quite abruptly which might’ve startled Ringo had he not already been preoccupied with cooking the food.

“I’m going to go take a walk really quickly to clear my head.” You explained earning a quick nod of approval from Ringo. With that you began to make your way through the forest.

It was just as peaceful as you had assumed it would be. You could still faintly hear the crackling of the fire as you walked in a random direction. You looked up, glancing at the snow covered trees which glittered in the moonlight. A light breeze made its way through the forest, rustling some of the trees and ever so slightly causing some of the snow to fall off of some of them.

You continued on, listening to the crunch of the fluffy snow beneath your feet as there was not much noise happening elsewhere. That was, until you heard the faintest noise of running water.

A waterfall would be a pleasant sight to sit at would it not?

Without thinking, you began to make your way towards the running water, your hands rubbing together to keep yourself warm as you neared the sound. The water sounded closer and closer until you had heard what you thought could be something in the water?

“It’s probably just an animal.” You thought to yourself as you continued to pass by many trees with not even a sense of fear of who or what could be in the water currently. You confidently made your way towards the pool of water, not realizing that you were also making a bunch of noise on your way, you haphazardly stepped on sticks and snow without another care or thought in the world. The only thing on your mind was relaxing by the water.

And there it was, a wide open pool of water with a waterfall. Just like the snow, the water glittered and glistened in the moonlight, giving it a dark blue hue as it rippled from the waterfall. You approached the edge of the water, wanting to merely lightly glide your fingers across the surface but as you had begun to walk towards it you had noticed something not too far from the edge. It was hard to tell what it was from the distance you were at so you walked a bit closer to it so you could possibly get a better look.

Once you had gotten close enough to it, you carefully picked up one of the pieces and that’s when you realized…

These were Mizu’s clothes.

Oh god.

You quickly dropped the piece of clothing right back where you found it, standing up and spinning around and very quickly being met face to face with Mizu himself.

Or… herself?

You tried not to look but your eyes acted before your mind could stop them and you had already seen parts of their body that maybe you shouldn’t have.

What is more important here is the fact that they were holding their sword right up to your face.

“Holy shit Mizu! I'm sorry!” You exclaimed, quickly slapping a hand over your eyes and turning back around to give them even the slightest sense of privacy.

“I just heard a waterfall and wanted to check it out, I didn’t even think about the fact that you could’ve been here and-“

“It’s fine.” You heard them answer from behind you. The sound of their sword being sheathed also gave you a new sense of relief but you continued to face away. “I heard you coming from a mile away and thought you were someone else.” They explained. You nodded, acknowledging that as a valid answer as you continued to face away from them.

“You are just full of surprises.” You said with a laugh, thinking that the situation was quite silly despite being absolutely mortified that you had accidentally breached someone’s privacy so heavily by accident.

Mizu didn’t really make a move or say anything before you continued,

“Your secret is safe with me. And next time I’ll wait for you to be done bathing before I go on my walks.” You joked trying to lighten the situation. You heard a lighthearted huff from behind you, recognizing it as a quiet laugh before hearing Mizu near you from behind.

“My clothes.” She stated pretty bluntly before you finally looked down in front of you, realizing you were pretty much blocking the very narrow path from Mizu to her clothes.

“My bad, I’ll just… get out of your way.” You said, absentmindedly backing up. Unfortunately because you couldn’t see where you were going you had bumped into Mizu as you walked back, causing you to practically leap forward in response.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m just… bye.” Was all you could manage to say before you very quickly made your way back to camp.

How the hell were you supposed to face her now? This entire time the guy you had a crush on turned out to be a girl, which you didn’t mind in the slightest, but within the same time as that realization you also saw her naked, and then also bumped into her?

Why did you always end up in embarrassing situations, especially with her!

You finally made your way back to the camp, Ringo had just finished up his food as he looked up at you.

“Oh you’re back! How did your walk go?” He asked cheerfully, handing you a bowl of food.

“Kill me.”

[reve-writes]

—fixer upper. | alice in borderland chishiya shuntarō x reader.

you were shot. he helped you not bleed out to death. | set in s2 beginning of king of spades.

CHISHIYA WAS CUNNING AND SELF-PRESERVING. While it would've slightly hurt your feelings if he had left you, it would be very much in-character of him.

He cussed when the first spray of bullets was fired, finding cover. You cussed seconds later, leaning against a pillar, your hand hovering over a fresh bullet wound just above your hip bone.

"Fuck," you repeatedly said, trying to stay calm despite the adrenaline pumping through you. You needed to think of the different ways you could get to safety, away from the gun-crazed maniac.

"Can you move?" Chishiya asked, noticing the blooming blood on your jacket.

You closed your eyes, the pain was starting to sink in. "You go. I'll wait for the shooter to walk past and make a run for it."

He said nothing and for a terrible second, you thought you were actually alone. Having been in the Beach for quite a while, you weren't used to isolation. Your eyes shot open when you felt someone grab your hand.

"Can you walk?" He asked again, slinging your arm over his shoulders.

You stare at him blankly for a second. He asked again, with an annoyed click of his tongue. "Can you walk or not?"

"I can try," you answered, hobbling along the sidewalk with the silver-haired man. You hissed and cursed every time he pulled or pushed you swiftly to take cover.

"You're regretting it, huh? Should've left me," you teased, watching him as he frowned with effort.

"Stop talking and move faster."

Finally, he ducked under an apothecary, pulling you inside with him, waddling as far away from the doors and windows as possible. You hid behind the cash register counter while gunshots rang over and over again outside. Until, eventually the sound got quieter and disappeared.

Chishiya peeked over the counter. Still quiet. He gingerly stood up and walked quietly over around the counter.

"I have the shittiest luck," you complained. "Can't even die from the shot. Now I have to sit here and bleed to death in pain."

"On the contrary, I think your luck is keeping you alive," he replied, shuffling about between the shelves.

You shrugged, not that Chishiya could see it. "Maybe I'm lucky to be stuck with you then."

It was silent for a second and two and five.

"Are you—"

You interrupted him, "Because you're a med student! I didn't mean to make it weird."

"You remembered," he said, putting a handful of supplies next to you. Gauze, anesthetic, antiseptics. Sat facing you, Chishiya put on a pair of latex gloves.

"Take off your jacket."

"Huh?"

Still as expressionless as ever, he tugged on the bottom hem of your jacket. "Off."

You slid down the zipper awkwardly. Chishiya was completely professional while dressing your wound. You were staring at him, shamelessly, as his blood-slicked hand pressed against your torso.

Were his lashes always this long?

Chishiya knew he should have left you. Your plan most likely would have worked, assuming the shooter was trying to rack up as many victims as they could, you would've been safe hiding until they walked past.

However, seeing the blood slicking your clothes, he could feel himself tensing. He couldn't leave this to a probability. A dozen different scenarios went through his head—all of them with you, dead. At that moment, his caution was thrown in the wind. You couldn't die. Not there, not then.

He was so used to having you around him that the thought of you dying never really crossed his mind. Would he simply go on? Would he grieve? He didn't want to dwell on the thought. This was the one thing he didn't mind not knowing—what he would do after you.

"You'll be fine," Chishiya said finally, security the bandage around your torso. "Rest up."

"I'm fine now," you said stubbornly. You tried to push yourself off of the ground, but the room spun around you. You fell, lying down on the floor with your hand on your eyes, groaning.

"You lost a lot of blood. Get some rest."

When you woke up much later, there were a fresh, clean jacket, a bottle of water, and a couple cans of food by your side.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

[ ]

[museandwords]

Warnings: female!reader, 1940’s setting, dubious consent, mentions of war, age difference (hinted), innocent!reader, insecure!reader, bucky is a bit of a fuck boy, i feel like i should mention they do have sex with reader’s parents being in the house so i’ll throw that out there, bucharest!bucky (my beloved come home the kids miss you), reincarnation (kind of?)

Author’s Note: It's finally here! I don’t know what the end goal of this was but I listened to illicit affairs by taylor swift and this was born? To be honest this has just morphed into something and it’s moreso just me rambling but anyway enjoy.  Feedback is always welcome!

MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

----

The first time you meet James Buchanan Barnes and his best friend Steve Rogers, you're the new waitress at a diner on a corner in Brooklyn. It’s your first shift, and you're  wearing a satin bow in your hair. You wore lipstick to look more mature, and you gave a dazzling, sweet smile at all those who walked in.

You wanted to look pretty.

You were eager to get a job, loved the idea of some independence and wanted to do your best. 

“Hi, what can I get you?” You ask as you grip your pocket-sized notepad in your right hand, a blue pen in your left. 

When you look up from your pad, your hand stills and your heart skips a beat. It’s almost like the wind gets sucked out of you, and you can feel your cheeks heat up, you've never been so enamored by a man at first sight before. 

He isn’t looking back at you, not right away. His eyes were downcast, focused on the menu in front of him as he contemplated what to get.

From this angle, You can see how pink his lips are, how devastating the cut of his jaw is, and how utterly soft his cropped brown hair looks. 

It's almost as if it’s in slow motion, the way his eyes move over the menu, and how he licks his lips in thought. 

You think he must be older, you don't recognize him or his friend.

He’s gorgeous, and he doesn’t even seem to take notice. 

You only have milliseconds to recover, and your deflated smile returns with vigor. 

“Get whatever you want Stevie, I’m gonna take another minute.” He says as he finally glances over to his friend – Stevie. 

Stevie is a tiny little thing, all slumped shoulders and pale skin, and probably the same size as you, but you like how large his eyes are, how gold his blonde hair is, despite the clear indicators that he isn’t well. 

“Uh, yes…Can I just get a chocolate milkshake and fries?” Stevie asks you, looking up with those crystal eyes and you begin to write his order down. You nod, warm and polite the whole time. 

“Of course.” You tell him gently, finishing your writing before your eyes dart over to his companion, who is now looking up at you.

And you're met with the breathtaking blue eyes you have ever seen.

You try your best not to outwardly react to him, after all that wouldn’t be very professional of you. 

But how can you not feel weak in the knees when he looks up at you like that, how can you not get butterflies when he’s the most gorgeous boy – man – to ever exist?

“And you?” You ask softly, not even realizing you're nervously biting your lip before his gaze glances towards your mouth, and he smiles – amused!

“Well, Princess, can I please get a chocolate milkshake as well and…a burger?” He asks. You swallow, before nodding your head, writing down his order. 

“Just a regular burger or would you like cheese on it?” You ask – rather dumbly.

And he just keeps on smiling, eyes sparkling with delight as you nervously press your pen to your paper. 

“What would you recommend?” He asks, leaning forward and batting those perfectly long, curled lashes.

You flush…

“I-I normally like it with cheese…” You reply, bringing your pad closer to your face in hopes of hiding behind it. 

“Alright, princess, I trust you on this.” He says with a wink. 

You barely recover. 

—-------

You are quite proud to say you have successfully survived any and all encounters with one James Buchanan Barnes after that. 

He frequents the diner on a weekly basis, normally with Steve, or his sister or – and the most disappointing of them all – his dates. 

And, you learn against your own will, that Bucky indeed goes on lots of dates. Which, you suppose you should’ve known.

You never serve him when he comes in with a girl because when he comes in you're either on a break or you haven't clocked in yet or you're just ending your shift, and you're thankful for it. 

You know that you wouldn’t be able to be the friendliest you could be when he brings girl after girl through those double doors and orders milkshake after milkshake. 

It doesn’t take you long to come to the conclusion that the tiny little crush you harbored for him turned into a not-so-tiny-and-little crush. 

It was big, bigger than anything you've ever felt for a man, for sure. Which is pathetic considering you only ever spoke to him when he came in to order some food. 

So every time Bucky Barnes came in with a new girl under his arm, you could feel yourself deflate just a little more. 

They’re never the same girl. 

Every few weeks Bucky comes in with a new one tucked into him. 

Every time it’s the same thing, he’s got that stupidly boyish charming smile on his mouth, those intense, breath-taking blue eyes focused on nothing but his date, and he’s always so well-dressed, even in the simplest of clothes. 

Every time, you see each of them fall under his spell.

You can’t really blame them.

One thing you do notice is that it seems Bucky just likes women, they have no particular similarities; blondes, brunettes, girls with hair as black night. Wide brown doe eyes, siren-like blue eyes, and everything in between.

Bucky just really seems to appreciate women. 

But the thing is…they’re always older than you.

—--

You remember the first time the two of you had a moment. 

It’s later in the evening, and he looks exhausted, smelling of salt water and sweat and sun. His usually pale skin has a soft glow to it, and he’s sitting on one of the stools rather than a booth. You had just come back from your break and was surprised to see him.

“Hi, have you been helped?” You ask as you slip back on your apron.

Bucky looks up at you, those startling blue eyes shining with mild recognition, and then there it is, that easy, disarming smile that never fails to make your stomach swoop.

“Oh, not yet princess,” He says and your heart skips a beat at the pet name, an echo from the first time you unofficially met.

You blush, nodding your head as you pull out a notepad and the pen that had been nestled in the bun of your hair. “What can I get you?” You ask.

He glances at the menu. You know what he’s going to get, he orders it every time.

“Milkshake and a cheeseburger, please.”

—--

It becomes a thing after that. After that first night when he sat on the stools. Something changes. 

Bucky comes in every week, sometimes twice. 

He always comes in during your shift. Always the exact same time;  right after working from the docks, and he sits in the same spot. And he always orders a milkshake with a cheeseburger. 

He chats you up in between tables, waits for your break so he can follow you and take you for a little walk down the street, waits until your shift is done so he can walk you home. 

He talks about anything and everything with you, his childhood, his passions, his dreams, his mother and sister and his dear friend Steve Rogers. 

And in turn you tell him about your own ambitions, what you strive for in life once you get a little older and more sure of yourself.

Not once does he laugh or belittle your dreams. 

“Hey, princess?” He asks, one evening when it’s late and the sun has gone to bed and it’s pouring rain outside.

“Yes, Bucky?” You answer as you go about your closing duties, you only spare a glance at him with a small, pointed smile.

“When are you gonna let me take you out?” He asks, leaning forward on the bar as his eyes are zeroed in on just you. 

You know that look, you’ve seen him use it countless times – girl after girl – and you know, instinctively, that maybe you shouldn’t. You’ve seen how this plays out. Bucky gets interested, gets what he wants, then he’s off to the shiny new toy. 

So, the odds aren’t in your favor, you know this.

But who are you to say no?

—

It's your first date. The very first one. 

Your parents never allowed you to date and well — you had never been asked out before.

So of course, it is both an exhilarating and anxious affair, you had worn your best dress, washed your hair and applied your mother’s lipstick.

Bucky shows up with flowers, he impresses your mother and even manages to successfully charm your father. 

It’s a simple date, ice cream and a stroll in the neighborhood.

He eats chocolate ice cream, you have strawberry.

The thing is Bucky is a great conversationalist. You can see why girls swoon and sigh when he talks to them. 

He asks questions, genuinely listens and responds with a meaningful response. He is also insanely funny, his quick wit is impressive. 

He tells you he wanted to be a writer, but university just wasn’t in the cards to pursue this dream, so he settled for the docks. He tells you he wanted to write science fiction stories and dreams about a futuristic society where there is magic, flying cars and talking animals.

“And what about you, princess?” He asked as he held your hand. 

Your brain is so overcome with the sensation of how big and warm and calloused his hand was that you barely processed the question.

“Hmm, what?” You ask, taking a lick of your strawberry ice cream to focus on something – anything. The cool sensation against your tongue is enough to alert your senses. Bucky laughs softly.

“What do you wanna be when you’re all grown up?” He asks in that endearing way.

“Oh,” You say as you think. It wasn’t like you had some big ambition, girls like you – life was pretty much about survival in this day and age.

“I always wanted to have my own little shop, like with food or coffee maybe, somewhere people can come and just be.” You tell him.

“Yeah?” He asks, genuinely interested. You nod.

“Tell you what, when you get your little shop, I’ll come and do my writing there.” He says as he beams at you, his eyes full of sparkles and wonder and hope.

You laugh.

“Only if I get to read the rough drafts.”

“Deal.”

—--

As much as you like the little dates, the walks in the parks, the little rendezvous, you also long for the more serious ones, the dinners, the dancing. 

But you notice Bucky never takes you, and he always insists on you two meeting up on your own, he says he likes the intimacy of just the two of you. 

But you also think about how when Bucky would date other women, he was very, very into showing them off.

You try not to read too much into that.

But it seeps into your soul, crawls into your brain when you’re alone and the thoughts just won’t stop. So, one day, while you’re walking by the water and he’s rambling on about some fight with Steve, you interrupt him.

“Bucky?” You ask, your voice so small, so unsure. He immediately notices your tone and his attention is on you in full.

“Yes, princess?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“How come you don’t…” You take a breath, figuring that isn’t the best choice of language. “How come we don’t ever go dancing?” You ask. 

Bucky looks surprised by the question, though his gaze softens as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek tenderly. You know by his touch, by the way he’s looking at you, that he knows.

“I’d love to go dancing with you, princess, it’s just…I know you’re always on your feet at work and I didn’t wanna make you feel obligated or forced…” He admits as he leans closer, his lips ghosting yours as he looks earnestly in your eyes. 

And, you hadn’t been considering that, automatically you had assumed maybe he was ashamed to be seen with you. And your heart melts faster than an ice cream on a hot summer’s day.

“I’ll take you dancing, girl.” 

—--

So, the two of you become a thing.  An unofficial, official thing where Bucky is unofficially your boyfriend. And it’s been longer than a few weeks, his usual dating pattern. 

It’s been a thing that’s been sitting in the depth of your body, somewhere where your stomach meets your abdomen and it’s warm. 

It happens every time Bucky holds your hand, or when he brings a straw or spoon to his mouth and sucks, or when he gets that hyper focused intense look in his eye while he’s deep in thought or doing something. 

You feel it in the depth of your core, and every time your heart skips several beats and you lose your breath. 

It happens the most when he kisses you. 

And he kisses you a lot. 

In the beginning it was small pecks goodbye, gentle kisses on your mouth that felt like soft summer rain and tasted like chocolate and salt.

Lately he’s been more zealous in his kisses. More aggressive and handsy. He’ll grab you by the waist, his hand finding the small of your back as he tilts your chin up to him so he can place a hot, open mouth kiss on yours. 

It’s always during your break, or when right before he goes home, or when you’re on one of your little dates and he just can’t seem to relax. 

You like kissing Bucky. You love it. 

He’s all-consuming, he wants everything you can possibly give him. Your mouth, your sounds, your soul. 

And you give it all to him. 

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament. 

You weren’t being the greatest daughter when Bucky Barnes snuck in through your window.

“What are you doing?” You whisper scream at him, exhilarated as he moves to close the window, that boyish mischievous grin you’ve come to know beaming on his face. 

“I missed you, princess. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, had to come see you.” He whispers back as he stands to his full height and turns. 

He’s looking around your room. It’s a little messy, some clothes were resting on your vanity desk chair, and flush from the fact that he’s seeing this intimate part of you. Bucky doesn’t say anything, if anything you can’t help but notice the way his eyes soften, especially when he sees the posters on your wall, and the records you have on a shelf.

Or the family portrait of you and your parents that hangs above your bed.

Then, suddenly he’s sitting on your bed, and he’s pulling you into his lap.

“Bucky–!” You say before his lips sufficiently cut you off from whatever you were about to say. 

It’s one of the more urgent kisses, the one where his mouth is licking into yours, his hands are moving up and down the expanse of your back, his fingers feel dry against the cotton fabric of your white nightgown. And then they’re tangling in your hair. His fingertips playfully tease the straps that rest on your shoulders. 

It’s like he can’t get enough.

You’ve made out in the past, but he’s never had the urgency that he is currently encompassing. It makes your body flush, your heart rate picks up. And you’re completely still in his lap, especially once you start feeling your pussy begin to throb in response to the way he’s touching you. 

This isn’t the first time he’s had this effect on you, far from it. There were a few times in the past where he’s made you so wet you had to squeeze your thighs shut and let out a strangled “Bucky–wait…” And he always respected your limits. 

But now, he can’t stop. Not when he has you right where he wants you, all breathy and soft and all he could think about on the way over was how plump your lips looked after he kissed you, or how soft the curves of your body were when you wore those summer dresses he loved so much.

And you can’t help but whimper in his mouth as his hand comes up to massage your right breast over your nightgown. 

“Shit,” He whispers as he finally breaks the kiss and looks where his hand is on your breast. He realizes then, that the flimsy fabric is the only thing between him and your breast. He squeezes once, twice. It’s almost like he’s entranced as he palms your breast, rubbing the fabric against your nipple.

“You’re so beautiful, baby girl.” He tells you as he finally breaks his gaze from where he’s touching you and he looks up into your half-lidded, hazy eyes. 

He did that. He made you look so hazy and besotted, just from his mouth, his hand. 

He feels his cock twitch in his pants just from the sight of you.

He didn’t mean for it to get this far, not really. He just wanted to come and kiss you goodnight, to hold you for a little, but once he crawled in through that window, saw you in your nightgown, and was engulfed in the scent of just you from being in your bedroom, something inside of him snapped. 

“Am I?” You ask back, and you look so vulnerable, so precious as you look down at him, all swollen lips and glassy eyes. He nods.

“Most beautiful girl in the world, my beautiful girl,” He murmurs. His hands come back up, and his fingers find the straps again. His beautiful eyes meet yours, and you notice how dilated his pupils are, how heavy with lust he looks. And there's a question in his eyes, and you nod your head. 

You suppose, in a way, you should’ve known it was going to come to this. 

What other way was it going to go? Especially when the feelings you have for him grew, bloomed into something so beautiful and intense that you’d give your soul to him.

Bucky swallows, before he slips the straps off your shoulders, and you both move to push the fabric down and off your torso, and it pools at your waist. 

Your chest is flushed, and your eyes are wider as you suck in a breath as his eyes fall to the exposed skin of your breasts. He lets out a low, soft, groan, before his hands come up to rest on your back again, and he leans forward to capture your left nipple into his mouth. 

You let out a muted whine once his hot, wet mouth latches on, and his tongue comes to flick and swirl around the sensitive bud with just the right amount of pressure.

Before you think against it, your hips begin to grind down against his, back and forth, gently, just enough to tease his bulge against your clothed pussy. The only thing between you and the fabric of his pants is your panties.

Bucky groans, the vibration reverberating around your nipple which causes your hips to stutter. 

“Shit…I don’t want to stop.” Bucky murmurs as his mouth finally unlatches from your nipple with a soft pop and he moves to kiss and nibble the expanse of your breasts. 

Then he takes a deep inhale of air and rests his forehead on your collar bone, willing himself to calm down.

Except.

“I don’t want you to either.” You whisper, your heart pounding in your chest as your skin flushes the most beautiful scarlet.

And it’s like something snaps, in both of you.

—

You hadn't seen him in a while, not since that night. 

You try to move forward, try not to dwell too much on it, but your brain continues to throw images of that night in your mind's eye. 

Bucky's body, naked and pressed against yours. Bucky on top of you, his hot breath against the expanse of your neck, over your breasts.

Bucky's forehead pressed to yours as he looked down between the two of you, watching his cock move in and out of your tight heat with each thrust. You can hear the way he groans, echoing in the recesses of your mind as he —

You always snap back to reality just as you feel your stomach drop. 

And you feel so, so stupid when you remember what you told him. 

Why did I tell him I loved him?

So, imagine your surprise, when the man of all your dreams and nightmares walks through the diner’s door, dressed in army green, standing tall with his chin confidentiality tilted back. 

But  you can't help but think that the uniform is wearing him. 

And your heart sinks. 

No.

You're helping another customer when you spot him, and his eyes are on you in an instant, moving toward the bar stool as he waits for you to finish.

Your lips purse together as his gaze lowers. And he never looked more like a kicked puppy than he did in that moment. 

“Shelly? Can you cover me for a minute?” You ask your co-worker, who is pouring one of the regulars another cup of coffee. 

“Sure thing!” She calls back. And you take off your apron before you move to walk to the back door of the diner. You don’t say anything to Bucky, but he knows to follow just the same. 

You feel a whirlwind of emotions swirl inside of you, anger, relief, confusion, fear. And it bubbles up and sits heavily in your chest as your mind races a mile a minute. 

When the two of you are in the back alley, you turn to him, resting your hands on both of your hips as your gaze burns a hole through his face. Bucky looks downward for a moment, avoiding you. 

How the hell does he think that any of this was okay? 

You want to rip his head off, chew him a new one, tell him to stay away from you. And you're gonna tell him! You're gonna —

“Please tell me you're not going.” You're surprised by how soft, how vulnerable and hopeless you sound. 

Bucky's breath comes out fast, and he stands a little straighter. 

“I ship out tomorrow.” He tells you, and he tries to look so brave, but you can't help but notice the fear in his eyes. 

This is the first time you don't see Bucky as this great, impressive man, he looks more like a little boy.

Your eyes begin to water. Tomorrow. 

That’s too soon. He can't.

“...What am I supposed to do?” You ask as you begin to really cry now, your voice cracks and you can feel your face become hot. 

Bucky is quick to cross the space between you, quick to scoop you into his arms and begin shushing you as his hand comes to rest gently against the back of your head. 

He holds you so tenderly. 

“Wait for me.” Bucky whispers. “Wait for me sweet girl, I know I messed up…I got scared. You didn't do anything wrong, I swear it. I just got scared.” Bucky whispers into your hair. 

“But after I got my papers I just. It made me realize that I love you too. God, I love you.” He says, and his own voice is swelling with emotion as he holds onto you tighter. 

This is it…

“When we win, I want you to be here when I land.” He tells you so softly, his blue eyes are almost watering too as he searches your depths. 

And it's all you've ever wanted, it's all there in his eyes, in his words. 

“You have to come back.” You whisper, bringing your hand up to his cheek as your eyes are watery and bleary. “You have to come back this time…” You beg him. 

Bucky brings his lips to your forehead, pressing his mouth so gently as he places a long, tender kiss there.  “I'm gonna come back, I'm gonna come right back home to you and make you a wife, sweet girl.” He whispers. 

You close your eyes, and you smile but it's so heartbroken and sad. Your hand comes over his, where it's placed on your hair. You can't help the feeling that is crawling in your throat, pooling in the depth of your belly. 

It doesn't feel right. 

“You’d better, James Buchanan Barnes, or I’m going to tell your mother.” You threaten, and he laughs. 

—---

So, Bucky ships out. 

The two of you agree to write, Bucky's letter comes first. He tells you of the travel, the living conditions, some of the friends he's making, and how much he misses milkshakes and cheese burgers and your kisses.

You tell him you love him, over and over and over again. Because you feel like you can't tell him enough. And you feel that there is nothing you could tell him about back home that would make him feel any better. 

The clock keeps ticking…

He tells you about his capture, but nothing too graphic, you notice the change of tone in his writing and how he seems to be more unsure of this whole Howling Commandos thing with Steve. He seems more urgent, more desperate in his wording, and how he tells you he can’t wait to come home and help you open that little shop you always wanted. 

Your heart breaks when you notice the smudged letters, the way the pen seems to drag and move more often than not, and that he crosses things out, and there are tear stains. 

And then one day, they just stop coming, and you know something happened. 

You can't explain it, but you know it was bad. 

And then you get the official notice, the letter signed by Colonel Phillips. 

And your whole world shatters. 

—- 

2016…

 Bucky is in Bucharest, he just got off of a long shift at the construction site.. 

More days than not, he's been haunted by non-linear memories, and anything triggers them. 

Sights, smells, sounds. They all bring back 80 years worth of memories, but they're so miniscule, so quick to pass by in his mind that he has to write them down before he forgets. To try and tether himself to who he used to be all the while trying to figure out who he is now. 

He remembers the smell of his mother’s laundry, the pigtails his sister wore, he remembers hot summer days in a tiny little home. He remembers the taste of something chocolate and frozen and the smell of grease and salt.

Just glimpses of the man he was before a lifetime ago. And all he wants to do is grab them and hold onto them tight.

Tonight, he's tired, genuinely has no energy to cook. 

So he decides to go down to the little restaurant on the corner of his street, a local favourite, or so he’s been told by the sweet little old ladies of his apartment building. 

Bucky takes a seat in one of the corner booths and he keeps his eyes down, making sure not to draw too much attention to himself as he brings his baseball cap lower. 

He nearly has a heart attack when he feels the presence of someone beside him. Though he relaxes once he realizes it’s a waitress. 

“Hi, what can I get you?” 

And Bucky freezes. That phrase echoes in his mind, over and over before it morphs into something that smells like caramel, and he thinks of moonlight, neon signs and I love you.

He knows, undoubtedly, that he knows that voice too. He looks up, startled and shocked because he knows. He knows it’s you.

Or it looks like you…

He doesn’t even know who you are, but he knows by the way his heart stops beating, and he feels a rush of blood through his body, and the way he feels like he’s been punched in the gut that he knows you, he knows you from when he was James Buchanan Barnes, boy from Brooklyn.

But how can it be you?

“Um…” Bucky doesn't even look down at the menu. He's too scared to look away because what if you disappear? 

“Oh um…do you have milkshakes and cheeseburgers?”

[foxaftershocks]

HEAR ME OUT!! Lars with a reader, who was a ghost but somehow got their life back. Because of that, reader is pretty much forced to be in the lab 24/7 (much to their disdain) with Lars running tests on them. Enemies to lovers 🫶

(Also, you're like the best author ever on here.)

Clearly I really liked this prompt because I wrote a lot for it. Like, seriously, this is so long. I hope you like it as much as I do.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Lars growled under his breath, pushing his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. Sitting on the able, feet kicking backwards and forwards, you were grinning at him with such smugness it made his blood boil. He knew how to do his job without the input of a woman who knew nothing about parapsychology. You weren’t a scientist. You were just some girl who happened to come back to life. Nothing special.

“Still wrong,” you sung.

His fingers tightened around your arm, holding you still. He tightened the band around your bicep, pressing the electrodes against your chest with more force than was necessary. You muttered something just outside of his hearing, most likely a curse word. Your swearing was not something he was unfamiliar with. It had been resounding through the lab for weeks now.

“Just sit still,” he ordered, returning to his equipment.

You wiggled right up until the point he turned the machine on, probably trying to make a point. If you were, he missed it through disinterest. He watched the output on the machine, your heartbeat strong and steady. No blips, nothing to suggest you’d once been a ghost.

“Anything?” you asked.

He pressed his lips together. You could never just sit in silence, continually talking in his ear, playing with his stuff. Your presence was was unending. You had been made to live in the lab while they worked out how you’d come back, and as someone who basically lived in the lab himself, you had seemed to designate him as your favourite form of entertainment. You needled him. He knew it. And yet he kept letting you get under his skin.

“Not if you keep talking,” he said.

He got up, moving closer to readjust a few of the monitors. Returning back to the readout, there was a spike in your heart rate before it calmed down again. Interesting. Glancing up, you were glaring at him, seemingly not feeling the exertion you were showing.

“Feeling alright?” he asked.

“Aw, you do care,” you said, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Just answer the question,” he said.

“I feel fine,” you replied.

He watched you for another moment. Your head tipped up, looking to the ceiling as your feet continued to kick. You did seem fine. He had to trust you on that.

He hated not having answers.

You floated away on soft footsteps when he released you from his tests. You didn’t even bother saying goodbye and he knew it’s because he’d be seeing you later. You never seemed able to stop yourself from interrupting his day.

Looking back over the readouts the only thing that jumped out at him was the elevation in heart rate for a few minutes. Nothing else suggested anything had happened. He stared at it, trying to piece together what was going on. And yet it still wasn’t outside the bounds of normal mortal hearts.

Nothing indicated how you’d come back from being a ghost. Every test bringing up nothing. If he was a religious man, he would have said it was God playing a cosmic practical joke on him, sending him the one person who drove him crazy.

“If you never find anything am I forced to stay here until I become a ghost again?” you asked, appearing out of nowhere, whispering in his ear.

Perhaps you’d brought some things back with you when you’d become corporeal again. Silent as the wind, able to sneak up on him, your laughter echoing long after you were gone. It was eery and yet nothing indicated you were anything but a healthy human.

“You’ll stay here as long as necessary,” he replied, refusing to give you more.

“At what point does this become kidnapping?” you mused, hauling yourself up onto the bench in front of him.

Your feet kicked again, your toes brushing against his thigh. He froze, the feeling lingering before you did it again. He caught you, fingers circling your ankle. Your eyes found his, lips curling up into a slight smile. He stared back, caught in a bubble of time where everything stopped. Breath held and body frozen, the warmth of your soft skin against his making his head spin.

“Don’t tempt me to tie you up,” he murmured.

“Pretty kinky, Pinfield,” you said, voice soft and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you were sharing a joke with him, “who knew you had it in you.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

Your eyes lit up and he had to fight against the impulse to find out every single way he could make it happen again. There was something about it, the way it felt like a constant battle of wits with you. It was intoxicating.

He shoved your foot away, coming back to himself. You drew back from where you’d been leaning closer to him and he turned away, ignoring you as he tried to get on with work. From his peripheral vision he saw you slide back to the ground, a huffed laugh coming from you as you slipped away.

He lost track of you again, hours going by until the sun had gone down. A bed had been set up in what had once been a junk room for you to sleep in, the veneer of privacy all the lab could offer you. For months you’d been living there, under observation, in case something changed. There was no explanation for how you’d come back from your stint as a ghost. Nothing paranormal going on anymore.

You were a mystery he was determined to solve.

A bowl of noodles was slid in front of him. Looking up, he found you taking a seat across from him, your own bowl steaming in front of you. He looked down into it, his glasses steaming up with the condensation. He huffed, taking them off to wipe them clean. The expression on your face when he put them on again wasn’t one he’d seen before.

“What’s this?” he asked, nudging the bowl you’d placed in front of him.

“Ramen,” you replied, “only the instant stuff from the kitchen but it’s better than nothing.”

He sniffed, pursing his lips at you.

“It’s not poisoned,” you said.

Your chopsticks dipped into your own bowl, pulling noodles into your mouth. He watched you for a moment, before sighing, the rumble of his stomach enough to urge him on. If it was poisoned they’d find his body in the morning and be hunting you down.

“Is there a reason you stay so late every night?” you asked, “I know you’re not doing it to keep me company.”

“I have a lot of work to do,” he replied, surprised you’d asked.

“You sleep here sometimes,” you said, an offhand observation as you shovelled more noodles in your mouth.

“You always sleep here,” he replied.

“Not by choice,” you muttered, chopsticks stabbing down.

“Do you really hate it here so much?” he asked.

“Pinfield, you’ve made me a prisoner. I can’t leave without supervision. I can’t go home. You haven’t even let me contact my friends and family. You try being happy under those circumstances,” you said, levelling a glare at him.

“But you got a second chance,” he said, not hiding his frustration, “you came back. No one else has ever gotten that.”

“That you know of,” you said, almost in a sing song voice.

He paused for a moment. It’s true, someone else could have returned from ghosthood without being documented. It took long enough for people to even accept the existence of the paranormal. Documented cases were a mixed bag of those with scientific merit and those without.

“Can I expect to see you at breakfast?” you asked, “I have strawberry poptarts.”

“You’re mad if you think those are better than the brown sugar cinnamon ones,” he said.

“I have to assume this wrong opinion is because you’re not from here,” you said, sounding deadly serious.

“I’ve done the research. I have the data. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable but the science speaks for itself,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, you can keep your pseudoscience and your bad taste to yourself. You’re not invited to breakfast anymore,” you said, sniffing.

The spike of irritation cut through the playful atmosphere. That word, pseudoscience, it was the exact thing to raise his hackles. He would never engage in such stupidity. To be reduced to such a word had his blood boiling.

But then he looked up and saw the way you were smiling into your ramen, eyes darting up to him, the twinkle obvious. The irritation melted away upon the realisation that you were poking fun at him. That you were joking. That you were purposefully trying to get under his skin. And you knew him well enough to do it with ease. He’d fallen right into your trap.

A spark of electricity ran through his veins at the realisation.

“Don’t work too hard, nerd,” you said, hopping off your stool, taking the empty bowl away from in front of him.

He watched you walk away, many things going on in his head. Mostly, surprise that it had been pleasant having dinner with you. That spark of playfulness made him want to follow you and that didn’t sit right with him.

Accepting that, he decided to head home, the night over for him. There was no chance he was going to be able to finish his work. Not when he knew you could be lurking in the shadows around him.

The next morning he found you sitting in front of the possessor’s enclosure, seeming to play with it from behind the plexiglass. One of those cursed poptarts was dangling from one hand, half eaten as your focus was completely on the ghost in front of you. He let himself watch you, knowing he wasn’t being watched in return. Your smile was bright, your laugh genuine, eyes sparkling as you played. It struck him that you’d never looked at him that way.

“Please tell me you’re not trying to convert the possessor to your inferior flavour of poptarts,” he said.

You looked up, the smile slipping from your face. With a grace he knew he would never had, you rose from your crossed legged position, looking at him with a scowl. Approaching, he found his eyes resting on the bit of icing clinging to the corner of your lips. Without much thought, he reached up, thumb brushing it free. You blinked, mouth falling open. He cursed inwardly, not sure what to make of his own actions.

“More tests today,” he said, hoping to sweep what he’d done under the rug.

“Yay, I cannot wait,” you said, the sarcasm back in your tone.

“Follow me,” he ordered.

You trailed behind him, finishing off your breakfast. He was trying to ignore it, the sound of you, the feeling of your skin burning the pad of his thumb, the unsettled feeling in his stomach. He didn’t even need to ask you as you hopped up onto the gurney that had been set up after one too many accidents in the lab. Having a routine with you felt intimate, like your lives were intwining too much and he wanted to force you out.

“Blood works today,” he said, already reaching for a needle.

“I’m going to be a ghost again from all the blood you take,” you muttered.

When he turned back to you, your hands were crossed over the front of your body, holding the hem of your jumper. It was like watching in slow motion as you lifted it over your head, exposing the tight tank top you had on underneath. His eyes were lingering on your body, longer than he knew was appropriate, and yet not able to stop.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you said, dumping the crumpled up jumper to one side.

He didn’t have an answer. The entire day was not going the way he expected and he felt off kilter, almost dizzy with his own reaction to you. Ignoring it, he stepped up to you, taking one arm. He was close enough to hear your snort, the brush of your breath against his skin sending a shiver down his spine.

With a soft fingertip, he traced over the veins inside your elbow. The breath seemed to stutter in your chest and he looked up at you, from under eyelashes, head still bowed over your arm. Your lips had parted again, something inexplicable on your face. He wanted to dig down into the expression, to take it apart until he understood every part of it. The look in your eyes was making him want to drag you closer.

“Don’t look,” he murmured, plucking the needle up from where it waited.

Your eyes closed, face turning away from him. He let his gaze linger for a moment longer before he got to work. Just another sample to be analysed later. He pushed whatever moment had passed the between of you to the back of his mind, not wanting to think on it.

“All done,” he said, pressing a cotton bud to the point of extraction.

Your finger brushed his as you took over applying pressure to the inside of your elbow. He took a moment before he stepped away, checking your colour. You looked up, catching him in the act, lips quirking up in a questioning smile.

“Go eat something,” he said, “not one of those awful poptarts.”

“Make me,” you said.

The impulse to carry you away and force you to eat something good was intense. He could picture it, the way he would sling you over his shoulder and march away with you. It was very caveman, so different from how he usually was. It broke the moment, leaving him unsure of what to say as he stepped back. Something flashed over your face, too quick for him to understand as you slithered to the floor.

“Enjoy staring at my blood you psycho,” you said as a parting shot.

“I’m not-“ he called after you before giving up. It wasn’t worth it.

He took some time to go analyse the new blood sample, searching for any paranormal signifiers. It seemed normal, like anyone else’s blood would. Dead end after dead end was making him want to bash his head against the wall. He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

He kept telling himself it was to get you out of his lab. Even if that little voice in the back of his head was saying something else.

The next time he saw you, you were curled up in one of the old armchairs that Lucky had dragged in one day in order to make the place more comfortable. You had a book open in your lap, hair falling forward. He paused, watching when your finger reached up, tucking some of the hair behind your ear. He could imagine it, the path his finger would take as he did the same thing, your soft skin against his fingertip.

“You’re actually quite smart,” you said and he realised his presence hadn’t gone as unnoticed as he thought.

“I know I am,” he replied.

Stepping closer, he noticed the book in your lap was a collection of essays, one of which he knew was his. Written a few years ago, before he’d had the funding he did now, his research was splayed out in your lap, your gaze tracing over it. The intimate feeling was a shock to him, the way it felt as if you were caressing his brain. You were reading his words. Words written years ago before he knew someone like you could exist. He felt his chest puff when you looked at him.

“Your writing could be clearer. You make it all so complicated,” you said.

He deflated, the pride he’d felt leaking from him. Once again, it left a flickering flame of resentment in its wake, and he wanted to lash out again. His mouth opened but you beat him to the punch.

“But your ideas are sound and you clearly know your stuff. I suppose I’m lucky I have your mind working on whatever mystery is going on with me.”

He sauntered closer, that same pride reigniting. You watched him approach, a half smile on your face as if you knew the exact reaction you were causing in him. He felt smug, knowing he was taking up space in your brain. You’d spent your time reading his research paper. You’d taken time out of your day to let his words seep into your brain.

“Very lucky,” he said, coming to a stop in front of you.

His words might have been flirty if it was anyone but you.

“But then I suppose you’re lucky getting to spend so much time with me,” you said.

Your bare foot reached out, your toes brushing against his shin. He lent forward, hands coming to rest on the back of the chair, right above your head. Towering over you, you looked so small to him, like something he could protect. But he kept you trapped there, looking down into your face.

“Lucky to have such a pain in my arse?” he asked, keeping his tone light.

“Well, you need something to get the stick out of it,” you replied. Only there was no bite to it.

“Been thinking about my arse a lot, have you?” he asked.

“You should be so lucky,” you laughed.

He lent closer, watching the moment you realised how close he was. He found himself feeling out of control around you, like his inhibitions had fled him. He couldn’t help it. Whenever it came to you lately, he lost himself to giving in to all his impulses.

One of which was screaming loudly at him.

The laughter died on your lips and he didn’t miss it when your eyes dipped down to his. He was close enough to feel your warmth, towering over you, leaning into your space. Your fingers clenched around the book in your lap, foot brushing his leg again. Just that touch, small as it was, sent electricity rocketing through his body. He wanted more of it. He wanted more of you.

Oh.

Oh no.

He wanted you.

He had never denied you were beautiful, that you were bright, that you were charismatic. But he had denied ever liking you. Only now, so close to you, watching the way you reacted to him, it became blindly obvious to him that he’d been lying to himself.

“Can I help you with something, Pinfield?” you asked, voice soft, barely above a murmur.

He thought that if he kissed you now you would kiss him back. Almost certain of it. Pretty sure you would. But that small amount of doubt niggled at him. You could be so prickly with him and you’d told him you hated being there. He was part of the lab. What if you actually didn’t like him?

“Cat got your tongue?” Your half smile had softened, just enough to make him question it all again, “I don’t think you’ve ever been so silent with me.”

He lent back, straightening up, leaving you blinking up at him, confusion marring your features. Turning on his heels, he stalked away from you, the confusion and the tangle of confused emotions making him need to retreat as fast as possible. The ache was new, wanting to go back and finish what he’d started. He couldn’t. Not if you were going to laugh in his face and tell him he was deluded. No one like you could ever possibly want him.

So he did the cowardly thing. He avoided you.

Days went by, hiding away in shadowy corners, doing all the work he’d been putting off to study you. The things no one wanted to do. Filing, cleaning, sorting, anything to keep you from finding him. Only he’d misjudged it. He’d forgotten you’d been living there long enough to find every single secret hiding spot.

After a few days, you found him in a secluded corner, far from everyone else working in the lab. He didn’t know how many other people knew about that spot, retreating to it whenever he needed time alone. Sitting on the floor, knees bent towards his chest, head in his hands, fingers clenched in his hair, he didn’t notice your approach. Or rather, the left over ghostly powers you had kept you silent as you came upon him.

“Have you given up on me?” His head jerked up at your voice, “the fire get too hot for you?”

“What?” he asked. You couldn’t know. There was no way you could know.

“Usually you’re poking and prodding me every day trying to figure out why ghosthood has forsaken me. Have you finally accepted there’s nothing to find and I can be released back into the wild?”

You walked towards him, and his mouth went dry with how your hips swayed. You stood over him, hands on your hips, staring down at him with an oddly fierce look on your face.

“I know it’s not because you’re doing anything more important. Clearly. Look at you. You’re sitting here in the dark doing nothing,” he said.

“Maybe that’s more important than studying you,” he replied, leaning his head back against the wall as he gazed up at you.

“Either you’re working on this mystery or you’re not. If you’re done can you let me know so I can clear out of here. I’d like to have a real place to live again,” you said.

“It’ll get done,” he replied.

“Really? Because you’ve been M.I.A. for days now. My entire life is put on paused because you can’t be bothered doing your job,” you continued on, as if you didn’t care about his answer.

“It’ll get done,” he said, firmer, standing as if that would get the point across.

“Sure it will, after you’ve spent the right amount of time hiding from the big scary scientific questions. What’s got you so rattled huh? I didn’t take you for the kind of man who would go running scared the minute things got difficult,” you said.

“Shut up,” he said.

“Or what?” you demanded, “the longer you drag your feet on this the longer I’m forced to live like a fugitive on the run hiding out from the law. Or maybe you hate me enough to want to keep me under lock and key.”

“You don’t know anything,” he ground out from between gritted teeth.

“Clearly because apparently I’m so abhorrent you have to avoid me. I thought we were alright. Fuck me, I guess. I can’t keep up with you. There is something seriously wrong with you, dude,” you said.

“Shut up,” he said again, taking a step forward until he was in your personal space.

He could feel all of the emotions simmering under the surface. You were staring at him, anger flashing in your eyes and you looked fierce. It made his blood sing, going toe to toe with you. He didn’t have the ability to deal with this today, not when he’d been fighting against his need to grab you and kiss you and drag you into the first private place he could find and show you exactly what you did to him.

“Not until you explain why you’re leaving me high and dry,” you said, both hands coming up to shove at his chest.

He caught you around the wrists, holding you like a pair of manacles. His thumb brushed over the bare skin of your inner wrist, over your pulse point. You stared at him, mouth falling open and he couldn’t figure out if it was through confusion or indignation. Tugging you closer, you were so close, your body heat brushing against him and he realised what a mistake that had been. But once again, impulse took over his brain when you were near.

“What are you doing?” you all but whispered.

“Shutting you up.”

He swooped down, kissing you, his fingers tightening around your wrists. He felt you gasp more than he heard it, but it was enough for his tongue to slip into your mouth. You were frozen for just a moment and he was certain you were about to knee him in the gonads. Then, you melted, pressing closer, kissing him back until you took his breath away.

The fire and the passion you’d brought about in him seemed to have found a match. You tugged out of his hold, arms twining around his neck as his hands slid around your body, pressing you into him. The small noise you made only stoked the fire further. His hands cupped your arse and your teeth sunk into his lower lip. He was surprised at the rush that gave him, the spike of pain followed by the soothing of your tongue running over it.

He spun, pushing you against the wall he’d so recently been leaning against. You arched towards him. His hands landed either side of your body, keeping you trapped there, caging you in. You kissed him deeper, longer, and all he could do was groan and sink into it.

You were everywhere, in every single one of his senses, consuming him. All he could do was press closer, groaning when your fingers slid into his hair, tugging on it, playing with it, mussing it. It was so much better than he could have imagined.

“Fuck love,” he mumbled, his lips trailing down your neck, “who knew shutting you up could be so enjoyable in so many ways?”

“You’re such an asshole,” you laughed, breathless as you tilted your head, offering yourself up to him.

“I think that says more about you than it does about me,” he said, teeth sinking in to your skin for just a moment.

“No one said I ever made the sensible decisions,” you said.

He drew back, looking at you. Bright eyes and kiss stung lips, you were a vision he would never grow tired of seeing. He brought a hand up, cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. You nipped at the pad of his thumb and he chuckled.

“Then I think you should have dinner with me tonight,” he said, “if you’re determined to not make sensible decisions.”

“I’m not allowed out,” you reminded him.

“You are with supervision. Call me your own personal ankle monitor,” he said, “I won’t take my eyes off you.”

“Sounds like you’ll be getting more out of it than I will. Especially if I wear a sexy little number,” you said.

“And why would you do that?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Maybe because I’m so desperate to sleep in a proper bed I’m willing to go home with you,” you replied.

“So you’re going to seduce me?”

“I think I already have.”

You looked down, indicating the lack f space between your bodies. The leg he’d inserted between yours. The hand on your hip, keeping you pressed against the wall. His own swollen lips and flushed cheeks. The chuckle that fell from his lips was soft, and yet joyful.

“I suppose you have,” he agreed.

“So, dinner?” you asked.

“Tonight. No need for a sec little number. I’ll be taking you home even if you’re in your pyjamas,” he said and he liked the way that sentiment seemed to melt you.

“I think you might be a closet romantic, Pinfield,” you said, lips curling up into a small smile.

“I suppose you’ll have to stick with me if you want to find out,” he replied.

Impulse drove him to kiss you again, only this time, he was certain you’d kiss him back. You did not disappoint.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 89)

Another Day, another adventure out to find another pod to salvage.

This one was much further away, instead of a one day journey, this would at least be a three, traveling under the cover of night and resting during the day. It was a flipped schedule for most drones, but even Thad and Lizzy had gotten used to it at this point- so the rest of the engineers could too.

Tera was swaddled up tight against her mother's chest so that she wouldn't get cold, normally she would be left in the bunker during an excursion like this, but everyone she could've been left with had joined them. V was flying ahead, scouting for any infected and clearing the way for the forklift. N was next to her, one hand a rifle and the other wrapped tightly in her own like her own personal bodyguard.

Lizzy and Thad both were on lookout, keeping their eyes peeled for any infected V might have missed, and Khan was in front, on top of the forklift directing people better than she ever would.

He'd been decently hands off so far, letting her plan and direct while he looked over her blueprints for any errors and delt with stuff internally, but now, with such long journeys and Uzi inching closer to her ‘supposed’ due date. He didn't want his daughter being overwhelmed.

Honestly? Uzi was relieved, as much as she appreciated the amount of trust her dad was putting in her now. She wasn't sure if she was ready to be leading a squad of drones by herself. She didn't want to be held responsible if something went horribly wrong…

“It's kinda weird to be traveling in a big caravan like this.” N started a conversation, probably because the tense silence was starting to put him on edge. “And on foot, it's like one of those ‘finding the promised land’ movies.”

Uzi smiled, she could always count on N to keep the moment lighthearted.

“We kinda are… what kind of planet would you want- if you could choose?” Uzi asks, squeezing his hand gently for some silent reassurance.

“Something not snowy. The temperature is nice for cooling off but I am so sick of snow…” He replied, and Uzi couldn't help but agree. “No more snow. Maybe a desert?”

“And die as soon as we land? Our systems couldn't handle that.” N laughed. “Maybe…a big ocean?”

“We're metal. And not entirely waterproof. You just enjoyed Subnautica too much.” Uzi teased and N chuckled at himself, “Hey that game is good! You're the one who showed it to me.”

Uzi thought again for a moment. “A big forest… with lots of greenery. Maybe a jungle?” She suggested. “I've never actually seen living plantlife, man that's kinda sad.” She added after a moment.

“Oh! Y-yeah I guess you haven't… “ He realized, almost kicking himself.

Whenever he thought of Uzi, he always thought that she was always there with him, even on Earth. Which wasn't actually the case of course, Uzi definitely wasn't at the manor… but he always felt she was. Maybe it was because some of his memories were of her as a crow and those were bleeding into his actual memories.

But no, she'd never been off Copper-9, and she'd only seen organic life through pictures or a screen. She'd never had the feeling of grass tickling her casing, or the petals of flowers between her fingers.

Just cold steel and ice.

“Then yeah, I hope there's lots of plants, and it's so green you'll get sick of it.” He laughs, kissing her on the forehead as he pulls her in gently. And she laughs in such a content way… it's like feeling the sun on his silicone again.

“Halt!” He hears Khan shout, and the moment is broken. He can feel the bitter wind once more, hear the howling of it overhead, and the deep shuddering groans of urban decay. The ground is a muddy slurry from all the movement … and it's cold; leeching away any heat from his feet into the ground.

With a small squeeze onto his girlfriends hand, he flies up to see what was the matter, and it becomes immediately obvious the second he can see over the forklift.

A gigantic black tendril is blocking the road, laying inert- though still breathing, V was pushing people back to avoid the snaking webbing of flesh already beginning to grow around it.

N lands next to Khan on top of the forklift, and he looks… distressed.

“I know you've shown me pictures and holograms. But this is… something else.” Khan is trembling slightly, joints clicking as they tapped together.

“This one looks new… it's not moving yet. V and I can probably burn it away so we can get past it.” He puts a hand on Khans shoulder as a way to steady the man. And he takes a deep breath.

“I'll back up the caravan. Give you some room.” Khan agreed, before sticking his hand out to motion people to back up.

“You know, it took me awhile… but I know why Uzi chose you…” Khan started, looking nervous, N lifted his brow.

“You're… stable. You're reliable. You love with every ounce of yourself. And I… she didn't have that before, unfortunately.” He stopped himself from going into self-pity, shaking off that feeling to continue;

“You have a good head on your shoulders son. I'm sorry it took so long for me to get it. Better now then never I suppose.” He laughed softly and the caravan stopped moving backwards. N smiled, his wings coming out with a flourish.

“Thank you. Mr- Ah, Khan. Thank you Khan.”

Khan smiled brightly at that.

“Now go kick some tentacle ass! Don't want you back down here until it's a burning stump!”

N laughed. “Sir yes Sir!” as he flew off, his hands being replaced with duel flamethrowers. V hovers up next to him, her arms crossed.

“What's the plan boss?” She asks, a brow raised.

“Burn it enough so that the caravan can get through… might have to burn the ground too. Can't risk people coming into contact with it.” He replied, before blinking. “D-Did you just call me boss?”

V turned away for a moment, probably to hide her fluster. Before coming up right to his visor and flicking it lightly. “Don't read too much into it, idiot.”

“Okay, Okay!” He laughed, before they both made their way down with their respective flamethrowers, aiming it down at the gross fleshy tendril.

At the same time, they unleashed a plume of hot flame. The tentacle reacted violently, thrashing wildly as a loud screech ripped through the air from… somewhere. The ground itself rumbled, as if it were alive - and writhing in pain.

After a moment, the rumbling stopped and the screech faded back into howling wind, as an extra measure, both dissasembly drones burned the ground the tentacle was sitting on until it was charred.

“Think that's good?” N asked his pseudo-sister. And she nodded, testing it herself by walking across it. “Seems good, tell Khan he can start moving again.”

He flew up and gave a thumbs up. After a moment, the group began to move forward again. He spotted Lizzy climbing onto the roof of a car to see better.

Thad doing the same closer to the back.

“You think this is actually going to work?” V asks suddenly. A distant look on her face as she watches over the group walking underneath them.

“What? Building a ship?” He cocks his head and she nods. “It's a long shot, isn't it?” He agrees, his own concern shining through for a moment. “But I think if anyone can do it it's Uzi, you know?”

“And can you imagine? A whole new life. No more murder… or corpse spires, or… weird masses of tentacles.”

V smiles, but it looks slightly pained.

“You still sound like you did at the manor. We talked about running away together if you remember.”

He was hit with it, suddenly.

She was leaning against him, in a rare moment of peace. His arms wrapped around her as she nuzzled into his shoulder. He kissed her head and she giggled; light and airy, content to be in the moment.

“If we could go anywhere, where would you want to go?” He asked, a soft blush on his face, white, like his eyelights.

“We can't… we're not human.”

“Humor me?”

She sighed, “Um… out in the country, I think. Away from people.” She replied, her glasses were perched on her face, she was so cute…

“Maybe we can one day. You and Me.” He suggested, smiling fondly down.

“Are you suggesting we run away N?” She smirked, he loved that little smirk, the little fire that was inside her burning bright for just a moment…

“Yeah… kinda, can you imagine? A whole new life… no more masters. No more cleaning wine stains off the upholstery…”

“Or doing Mrs. Elliots gross hair…” V adds, making him laugh. “Oh god! I know! Why is it so greasy?!”

He blinks, smiling.

“I'm surprised you even remember that.”

And V laughs. “Of course I do! You said Mrs. Elliot’s head was greasy!” It's a different kind of laugh now, it doesn't make him feel the same way, but it's still pleasant.

“I was agreeing with you! You said it first!” He defended, laughing along with her.

Those times were so strange to think about now… like he lived two totally different lived. His feelings for V were familial now, weirdly strengthened but anything romantic being erased to time.

“That's weird to think about now.” He admits. “I feel like you're… my sister almost.”

She snorts. “Oh same. Every time I think about the manor I cringe a little… I don't regret it obviously… but it's just weird.”

“… I remember you being so nervous the first time we kissed…” He said slowly. And she exploded in yellow blush.

“Agh! I was actually trembling. For some reason I thought kissing was biting someone's mouth.”

N genuinely cackled at that.

“Are you serious?! That… that explains so much actually. You bit my lip.”

If anything her blush grew even worse.

“Aaaand I wish you didn't remember that…”

His eyes trailed down to Lizzy, and then back up to V. A teasing smile playing on his face.

“I'm sure your practice with Liz was better.” Came tumbling out of his mouth, and his ex-girlfriend turned ‘sister’ froze up, tail kinking up as they floated there.

“You… little shit.” She said, surprised and exasperated that he said that. “You so did not just say that!”

And suddenly she was chasing him, both ripping through the air as he laughed, even though she was clearly embarrassed, she was smiling.

He decided he liked this dynamic much better.

Next ->

[little-tainted-angel]

๑ Realizing love is there...

Xiao x male!reader, Venti x male!reader and Kaeya x male!reader (separated)

Category: [Fluff/sfw]

Warnings: Mention of Zhongli (Xiao's part). Zhongli calls Xiao "child". Mention of Kaeya (Venti's part), mention of Diluc (Venti's part), Venti is drunk for half his part. Mention of alcohol. Mention of Rosalia, Klee, Jean, Diluc and Lisa in Kaeya's part. Reader is mentioned but doesn't actively participates in it.

Request: Yes / No | From: 🕸️ anon.

«Hello, you can call me 🕸 anon! Can you write Xiao, Venti and Kaeya realizing they have a crush on the reader? Ty !»

Waaa! My first emoji anon! 🥰 I'm so happy- welcome!

「 ✦ XIAO ✦ 」

Xiao had been an adeptus for longer than he could properly remember, and the feeling of «love», in romantic contexts, wasn't something he was familiar with.

He's seen countless couples in his years of existence, but he never quite grasped the concept of what it meant to love someone outside of family.

That human desire to kiss someone? That need of multiple actions he could not wrap his head on? He was clueless.

Perhaps that was why he didn't know what that heat on his chest meant. That feeling of something tugging at his heart and filling him with that sort of anxiety that left him on guard.

What confused him the most was that you were the cause of it. Had you cursed him some way without him realizing?

He even managed to believe you were a threat.

Of course, confused as to why the ever so calm adeptus was acting on edge with you, Zhongli decided to ask Xiao what was happening.

The god found himself amused when Xiao explained the situation to him.

"Ah, my dear child. I believe I know what id that you're feeling." Zhongli hummed, muffling a small chuckle that dared escape his lips. "Fear not, as it is not dangerous."

"Huh? If it's not dangerous, what is it?" Xiao asked, frowning slightly at the consistent incognita of what was that feeling you caused.

"Mm, I believe the simplest term of it would be «love», Xiao."

Safe to say, if his entire life didn't already gave him existencial crisis on a daily basis, trying to come to terms with the idea of falling in love was surely passing with five stars its debut.

From that day, he started to study you. Trying to figure out if what Morax explained to him was accurate, and if so, how.

And soon enough, he found himself admiring little things you did. How you acted around others, how your personality was like.

So this was what love felt? To wish to admire you, close or from afar, as long as you kept being true to yourself?

If that was it... Love might not be that bad after all.

He wouldn't confess though, not until he manages to understand better how to process his feelings. Just because he understood what love felt like, didn't meant he understood how to act with it.

It would probably take a while, but he was patient. He just hoped you could wait for him too.

「 ✦ VENTI ✦ 」

The God of Freedom had been a free soul his entire life. And while he had experienced the cons and pros of it, the lost and happiness of friends and people he could even consider family, he never had fallen in love with someone.

And oh dear archons if he had fallen hard for you.

The wind was free, yet somehow he had never felt as free as when he was with you.

As a Mondstadt citizen, he would usually see you as one of his children. But he couldn't help but see you, not as his child, but as a companion to his free life.

"Isn't he divine?" The god murmured softly as he watched you from afar.

Kaeya hummed with humor as she watched the Anemo Archon look so helplessly in love while he was drunk in the Angel's share.

"I suppose he is," Kaeya replied, amused.

The god knew what love meant. What it implied.

He also knew what it implied for him to fall in love with a mortal that wouldn't be able to live more than a few decades.

But as he watched you from afar; the man that managed to get his full attention like the best wine, he decided that the consequences were worth it.

"If you like them so much, why don't you go ahead and confess?" Diluc replied as he cleaned one of the glasses.

"Eh? But what if he rejects me Master Diluc?" Venti pouted as he rested his head on top of the counter.

"Then it wasn't meant to be." Diluc's replied calmly, a small frown on his face as he watched the drunk bard. "Now stop drinking before you embarrass yourself more than average."

"Master Diluc is cruel."

"So I've been told."

Needless to say, to confess to you he had to be:

Drunk.

He had to count with someone's (Diluc's) help.

It's a miracle he managed to get you to date him.

「 ✦ KAEYA ✦ 」

He was quick to realize he liked you. The Calvary Captain of the Knights of Favonius could be slightly flirty if he wanted, and therefore knew how exactly certain feelings felt like.

But realizing he was in love for you, that had been a rollercoaster for him.

You were an incredible man. And the times he caught a glimpse of your smile he couldn't help but feel like he was just falling harder for your presence.

He smiled at the slight mention of your name. And would try to take care of you when you needed it the most.

Of course, this also meant he got free teasing from Lisa, Jean and Rosalia.

Also Klee's questions about if you were his boyfriend, or husband, or if you were already dating.

He might have heard Lisa laugh more times in his crushing-for-you time than in the whole time he had met Lisa.

"If you know you like them, why don't you confess already then?" Rosalia asked him while they were getting drinks at Angel's share

"I want it to be a more perfect moment."

"When it includes you? I doubt that's possible," Diluc commented as he served another client.

"That's a bit cruel even for you, Master Diluc."

So he does try to plan for it to be perfect. He slowly manages to get stuff you like, wanting to be a good time between both of you.

He almost messes all of it up (Diluc has premonition powers now???), but was able to not mess it up at last minute.

Perhaps Barbaros was on his side that day.

[ghostiiess]

“you’re the best gift i have ever received”

synopsis: while you’re trying to wrap your christmas gifts, your boyfriend jake knocks on your door and surprises you with a gift

warnings: none, petnames (princess, babe, and baby), mention of kisses (not makeout), i think that’s all? let me know if there’s more!

type: fluff

wc: around 850 (i think)

member: jake from enhypen x female reader

author’s note: i am in love with jake’s and hoon’s collab with tiffany & co…. so i added it into the imagine, i hope you guys will like it!!

reblogs and likes are really appreciated!

english's not my main tongue.. sorry if i made any mistakes!

Wrap, wrap, wrap. You were late... again.

Like every year, you procrastinated to put the wrapping paper on the gifts you bought for your family and loved ones. You loved buying the gifts, picking out the tags, choosing the wrapping paper, seeing the smiles on the faces of your family and friends when they opened the gifts, but you hated the time when you had to wrap everything and put the gifts in order. You found it long and boring, especially since your gift-wrapping skills were not the best and most beautiful.

If your boyfriend Jake saw you doing what you are doing now, he would probably laugh and tell you how adorable you are, trying to handle the tape and the wrapping paper at the same time. Unlike you, he wrapped gifts beautifully.

- Why is wrapping presents so hard?!

You sighed for the umpteenth time under the air of the festive songs you had put in the background, then looked at the gift you had just wrapped. How could a book be so difficult to wrap?

- Well... it's not too bad. After all… it's the gift that counts, not the wrapping.

You looked at the pile of gifts you had left. Just seeing the other gifts discouraged you. Again, you took the gift, that was meant for a family member, placed it on the paper, and took a deep breath.

- You only have six left, you can make it Y/N! you said to encourage yourself.

At the same time, there was a knock at your door. You weren't expecting a visit today, but you guessed that it was probably your boyfriend, who liked to make surprise visits from time to time. You opened the front door and let the cold wind and snow enter your house.

- Hii! said your boyfriend Jake with a big smile on his face, as he walked into your house and kissed you on the cheek. I have a special delivery for you!

- A special delivery? you asked as you closed the door behind him.

Your boyfriend nodded and handed you a bag, running his ringed hand through his dark brown hair.

- Coming straight from the North Pole! It's not your Christmas present, but I really couldn't wait! he smiled. I really wanted you to wear it before Christmas Eve at my family's house.

- How many non-Christmas presents will I get? you laughed. I thought we had to go easy on the presents this year... and this is the third one! I really appreciate it, but... I don't want you to spend all your money on me, baby.

He laughed.

- Yeah, but... Don't I have the right to spoil my girl during this festive season? Besides, it's so fun and cute to see you all happy afterwards.

He kissed your forehead, then said:

- Open it, I want to see your reaction.

You nodded your head, then gently removed the red tissue paper that decorated the white bag. You took the small wrapped gift and removed the red wrapping paper from the box, revealing a small turquoise box inside. You could recognize the brand just by the color, due to the promotion Jake and his best friend had recently done with Tiffany & Co.

- Jake... Is this really what I think it is?

- Open it and you'll see! He replied with a grin.

You opened the small turquoise box and saw a silver necklace, with a small heart-shaped pendant, that opened to reveal your and Jake's anniversary date of dating. You couldn't help but smile.

- Jake... It's so beautiful, I love the detail of our birthday in the little heart...thank you so much! I love it so much, you said, kissing him gently on this lips. Can you put it on me, please?

- It's nothing princess, you deserve it! he replied, putting the necklace around your neck.

- How is it? you said, turning back to face him

Jake put his right hand over his mouth to hide his smile and couldn't help but giggle a little. His hand slipped to his heart, you could almost see sparks in his brown eyes.

- Baby, you are sooo beautiful. It suits you so well, omg… Come here.

He placed his lips against yours, then gave you another smile.

- I knew I had made the right choice with this necklace. To be honest, I ordered one too and I thought we could both have matching necklaces. I think we could look really cute and beautiful wearing them together. What do you think? before you could answer, he continued. Wait! We could even have matching rings! I think I saw some that went with the necklace. Omg, we'be so cute!

You took him in your arms, laughed softly, and then nodded to confirm his idea of matching necklaces. You pulled away from the hug, then went on with what you wanted to say:

- Thank you so much baby. I also wanted to give you a gift today, but all of your gifts are in transit. They were supposed to arrive today, but there was a delay in shipping and delivery, and I won't get them for another two days but…

Not letting you finish your sentence, Jake placed his lips on yours, then pulled away from the kiss while placing his left hand on your right cheek.

- Baby, you're the best gift I've ever been given. As long as I have you, I'm happy. And if I’m being completely honest, I don't want anything, except for us to grow old together.

Still a smile on his lips, your boyfriend looked at the messy pile of presents on your kitchen table. He knew you hated wrapping gifts.

- Need a hand?

- Please.

not so sure about the end, but i still hope you guys liked it!

permanent taglist (open): @nsb-rkive @kentisbaby @firebenderwolf @hyuneee0 @yawnzzznnn @ghostyycat7

bold can’t be tagged.

[mimisempai]

Never ordinary

Summary

Crowley and Aziraphale take their daily stroll through their garden, and the angel realizes once again that the most innocuous of gestures, like holding hands, will never be ordinary for them.

Notes

Just because they like holding hands

On Ao3

Rating G -  561 words

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the orchard through the fruit trees as Aziraphale and Crowley walked hand in hand, fingers intertwined, in what had become a daily routine.

Crowley commented on the blossoming of this or that plant, Aziraphale looked forward to picking the last of the season's apples to make delicious desserts, and both realised that they would probably have to repaint the shutters soon.

Crowley was now talking about the next brood of ducks about to hatch, but the Angel was no longer listening, his attention focused elsewhere.

His gaze had fallen on their intertwined hands and he was enjoying the way Crowley's fingers brushed over his, the way their hands fit so well together, the way Crowley's skin felt warm against his. A wave of satisfaction washed over him, as it always did, and his fingers tightened a little more around the demon's.

Crowley, of course, had noticed the angel's lack of attention and asked amusedly, "Barely a few months of living together and I'm already boring you? "

" What? Oh, no, sorry, dear. What were you saying about the ducks? "

But Crowley wanted to know where the angel's mind had wandered and said gently, "You seemed lost in thought, Angel."

Aziraphale looked up and his eyes met Crowley's before returning to their joined hands. He raised them slightly before replying, "I was just thinking how... this will never be ordinary for us."

Crowley looked thoughtfully at their hands and replied softly, "You're right, I don't think it ever will be. Maybe because we've waited so long to be able to do it this way, freely, without looking over our shoulders, without fear."

Aziraphale nodded, no more words needed, he knew he and Crowley understood each other perfectly. It was more than just holding hands, it was the freedom to be together, tangible proof of a bond forged centuries ago, but now finally openly expressed. 

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound being the rustling of leaves beneath their feet and the gentle breeze in the trees. 

Suddenly, a gust of wind made Aziraphale shiver. Crowley, seeing this, let go of the angel's hand and wrapped his arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

Aziraphale laughed softly, "This will never be ordinary either."

The demon chuckled in turn, then suddenly stopped, stood in front of the angel, took his face between his hands and said playfully, "You know what else will never be ordinary, Angel?"

Aziraphale shook his head as Crowley leaned his face into his, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes. 

"I'll show you." 

He closed the distance until his lips met Aziraphale's in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. 

As always since their first kiss, the world around them faded away, leaving only the intensity of their connection, the depth of their love. 

Never ordinary.

As the kiss deepened, Aziraphale forgot all about the wind, and it was no longer the cold that made him shiver.

A little later, they parted, breathless and flushed, their eyes locked in a silent conversation that spoke volumes, before continuing their walk hand in hand. 

To anyone passing by, they would look like an ordinary couple living an ordinary life in their ordinary cottage, but they would always be aware that what they were living now would never be ordinary for them.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

South Downs cottage series : here

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Six

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: AHHH I am honest to god obsessed with this part, been excited for it since the idea came to mind and I also love surprises so, take that as you will... Hope you enjoy! Thank you sm for all the love on this series too, means a whole lot!!

Warnings: again lil bit of self-consciousness, mentions of scarring, heights!

Masterlist

"Mind if I join you?"

I swivelled around on my heel to peer over my shoulder at the sound of the unexpected oncommer.

It was a surprise to find Healy there. Striding across the expanse of roof with an effortless elegance, as though he knew how much he was worth, like he didn’t care who was watching. I sort of envied that.

I opted for feigning nonchalance and simply shrugged in reply, jutting out my chin before forcing my gaze to return to the skyline.

Healy fiddled with something in my peripheral though and the ruffle of cellophane separated the sound of the city below from my smoky exhale.

"You got a lighter?"

It was a needless ask, Heally could already see that I had a cigarette lit in hand but that didn't seem to defer him. It felt as though he was actualing aiming to start up some kind of conversation, which was strange considering how standoffish he’d been during most of his visit.

I spared him another short glance as I went to dig my free hand into my back pocket, noting that his sunglasses were still wired into his curls which meant that I could actually see the way he was watching me now.

When he’d first walked over, Healy had stopped a comfortable distance away, but he closed it when I lifted the lighter up in success. The makeshift patio creaking beneath his weight.

He had his own cigarette dangling loosely from his lower lip, the butt stuck to the inside of the soft flesh as he invaded my space, indicating that he had no intention of taking the lighter from me. I couldn't quite help the way my gaze flitted down to his mouth and then up into his valourous eyes when he did, their colour darker now that his hair had fallen from behind his ear to shield a portion of his face from the sun's shining light.

I looked away almost as soon as Healy met my curious stare and swallowed sparsely before proceeding to flick the sparkwheel. It took two tries before it caught.

The warmth of the iridescent flame tickled my cheek as I held it up, and Healy cupped a hand between both our faces in an attempt to waylay the whistling wind as I moved in to light the cigarette's end.

The lighter was a tacky thing, cheap, and coloured an illuminous orange. I never usually thought much of it, tended to nick them right off of Finn's kitchen counter, or from strangers in the street whenever I needed a light. 

But being this close to Healy, I could literally smell just how expensive the man's aftershave was, how it clung to the gentle curve of his neck. It reminded me of how different we were. Healy was obviously more inclined to the finer things in life- probably even had someone hired to light the poxy things for him.

I was quick to bite back the snort that bubbled within me at the sudden picture that painted, shaking my head as I dropped the lighter down to my side. Though I still wore a small smile when my gaze trailed back over to meet his, almost involuntarily now. And this time I couldn't bring myself to look away just yet.

Healy’s lips twisted into a rueful smirk once he’d inhaled a lungful, unblinking as he observed me once more, and I had to force my body to take a step back when I noted that neither of us had yet to move.

I cleared my throat and raised my hand again, but Healy’s smirk only grew.

"Meant to be quitting, you know." I quipped like many liars before me, hoping to ebb some of the remaining tension that had adhered itself to the air around us as I sucked some life back into my fag's dying flame.

Healy humoured me. 

"How boring."

I huffed a breathy chuckle, a grey trail stuttering out with it.

"I know it's what everyone says, but for me it's true. Been trying to kick the habit ever since I started, to be honest."

I peered back over at him long enough to witness the way he directed an arched brow my way, smoke pooling from his mouth. It was second nature the way he did it, so casual, as though smoking was akin to breathing.

"Why haven't you then?"

The question caught me a little off guard. But only in the way that it was a first for him, at least from how I saw it, to pry into another's life. My life, my brain supplied unhelpfully. A big-shot singer like him to be prolonging our encounter more than necessary, surprised me even more.

Nonplussed, I found myself replying, "Life?"

He snorted pleasantly, "Cheers to that."

I watched on as he hoiked up his hand in a false toast before dropping it weightlessly to his side, dislodging the ash that perched at the end of the cigarette when his hand bounced off his hip.

Mimicking the showy gesture, I dipped my head before I chose to take another long drag, mostly to occupy the silence that enveloped us again more than anything else.

It was then that my mind began to wander. But before I could overthink this entire situation- because, let’s just be honest, I would’ve have to have been fucking barking not to have found this whole ordeal anything other than strange- my head snapped up at a scuffling sound and my eyes instantly tracked the way Healy had all but pounced his way up onto the roof’s ledge.

"You aiming to off yourself, or you simply tempting fate?" I blurted out before I could think better of it, unable to look away. He truly had my full focus now.

He grinned and my jaw ticked as Healy's snazzy boots kicked carelessly at the brickwork that lined the edge of the studio’s building, his soles walking a fine line, prancing along like the three story drop wasn't that much of a threat.

"Fate's far too busy to be fretting with the likes of me, love." He retorted, one hand buried in the jacket he adorned, the other holding his cigarette to his mouth. He paused about a foot away from me and leant forward to peer over the side, causing my poor heart to falter and just about fall out of my arse.

"The hell are you doing!" I snapped, immediately jumping forward to grab at his sleeve before he could tip any further. "You got a fucking death wish, or something?"

Healy only cackled as he rocked back into my tight grip, grinning so widely now. My breath stuttered at the very sound of it, amused but tinged with an edge of mania. And the lazy smile he shot me from over his shoulder after didn’t at all help the way my pulse was now thumping wildly through my veins, the parent in me having sent every nerve-ending into overdrive.

"Or something." He answered, a wily expression dawning.

He did jump down though and once his feet were firmly planted back on the decking, I shoved at his shoulder. "You're a right prick, you know that?"

"Awh, come on. Live a little, Squeaks!"

I shot him a lurid glare, far from amused by the mocking tone he’d taken on or the way he’d poked fun at my name.

"Honestly, what have you got to lose?" Healy went on to say, not paying my reaction any mind at all. I ignored his efforts, but couldn't stop my eyes from following after him when he recklessly returned to the edge, only this time he decidedly took a seat there. "Come on!"

He gestured for me to join him with a jerk of his head and I merely blinked. Stressing over whether or not he was being serious.

Healy’s buoyant grin was fast fading now though, but I wasn’t really too focused on that fact, all I could see as he glanced back at me was how lost he suddenly seemed behind all that bravado. It was hard to notice in truth, but I could see it there, ever so slight, in the hazing shadows casted behind his eyes.

"What, you just gonna leave me here on my lonesome?" He goaded once he'd deemed that I’d had more than enough time to respond, wiggling his brows from across the patio.

I was forced to blink away my tangent of thoughts then as I inhaled a deep breath. 

After hesitating for the briefest of seconds, gaze flitting from Healy’s slumped form to the fire escape and then back again, I was sure that I saw his shoulders visibly tense. He’d noticed my uncertainty and had immediately raised those shackles back up, preparing to be let down again.

And for some reason, I found that I didn’t want that. So catching the inside of my cheek between my molars, I finally tossed the butt of my cigarette to one side and ambled over. 

Healy smirked, all too pleased with himself as I nervously settled in beside him, leaving only a few centimetres space to separate us.

Not wanting to chance anything, I kept my hands plastered to the wall’s ledge, fingertips digging into the rough brick as I leant forward the tiniest little bit to scrutinise the time it would take my body to ultimately hit the asphalt below, if I so happened to fall. 

I knew it was unlikely, but still pressed my lips firmly together, knowing it would likely be entirely Healy’s fault if something were to actually occur. 

After a minute or so my heart calmed and I started to observe the way our legs dangled over the edge, side by side, swinging aimlessly above the narrow street way down below. The toes of Healy’s boots only just skimmed the jut of my ankle whenever his heels would hammer against the building’s hard exterior, close but never touching. I counted the beats.

There was a long few minutes of silence that passed between us sitting there, before Healy finally broke it, kicking the remnants of his fag far away and watching as it blurred from view.

"You come up here often then?"

A laugh broke free from me at that and I looked over. 

"That a line?" I teased, unable to help myself nor the smirk that had worked its way onto my lips, whilst Healy’s eyes widened involuntarily, clearly not having expected the cheek from me. I decided to leave the ribbing there though, not wanting to push my luck, and smiled softly at him, deciding to give him an honest answer. "But I don't know, really. It depends."

"On what?" 

"On whether or not I've got shit to do."

He hummed, fingers tapping at his knee. "Important shit?"

I couldn't quite stifle my laughter, "Yeah, important shit. Not all of us can live a lavish life up in Beverly Hills."

Healy pursed his lips at that, "Makes two of us then, fucking hate The Hills."

Surprised, my eyebrows shot up.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! It's a right shit show- the whole of fucking California is." Matty scoffed, almost stubbornly whilst shaking his head. I could see how much he meant his words though, even if they did somewhat confuse me.

"Least it's sunny though, right?"

Healy barked out a short laugh, turning his head towards me to meet my gaze head on. From this angle, I could see just how much brighter his eyes grew when he smiled, and wondered if he even realised. If anyone had told him.

"Least it's sunny." He mimicked, sounding all too amused.

I tore my eyes away. "What's so bad about California then, bigshot?"

The volume of Healy's snort actually surprised me but mercifully, I managed to hide the way I flinched before I turned my head back to face him. 

"You could ask me anything, anything in the world, but that's what you settle on?"

My mouth drew itself into a pout as I furrowed my brow and shrugged. A little put out. "Always wanted to visit the National Park?"

"Oo, got a proper little adventurer on our hands, have we? California! Home of Venice Beach, Hollywood, and the planet's fittest stars- but all you wanna do is have a quick peek around at a mound of mouldy trees and old mountains?"

Tutting at his jeering, I rolled my eyes and hummed, "I mean, it looks sort of sick, don't it?"

"Sure. If you're going on eighty."

"Fuck off." I chuckled and knocked into Healy’s shoulder, throwing him off balance slightly.

"Oi, don't think I won't push you off this roof!" He warned and a giant grin threatened to overwhelm my face.

"Do it. I'll be sure to take you with me." 

"That a threat?"

"It's a promise." I smirked.

"Oh, I don't much like those, Squeaks. You'll have to think of something better." Said Healy, tearing those eyes of his away upon noticing then just how close we'd gotten during the short span we'd spent taunting one another. 

I licked my lower lip and watched him for a moment. "What's wrong with a promise?"

"What isn't?" Healy’s eyes looked vacant as they stared hard at the skyscrapers that littered the view. "They’re simply made to be broken, aren't they?" He shrugged, his blank facade quickly returning, that glaze in his eyes fading. "Anyway, why would I take your word upon only hearing you promise? Promises aren't truth, they aren't law. They're simply empty."

There was a long pause before, "Christ, who hurt you?"

My eyes widened upon hearing my own stupid insincerity, always putting my foot in it, and was hasty in the way I immediately opened my ginormous gob to apologise, but Healy’s soft laughter stopped me short.

"Now that's a question, Mouse."

I couldn't really bring myself to reply after hearing the sadness that fuelled his words. Didn't know if I even could. But I couldn't stop my lips from quietly mouthing my own name either, sure that it had been the first time Matty had ever used it.

--

The studio felt much quieter now without Jamie’s amiable laughter or Healy's all-consuming presence to fill the space. I found myself simply standing in the centre of the room long after they’d departed, half way between the booth and the settee, wondering what to do next. 

I didn't have to pick Teddy up from the nursery for another half hour and the journey there would only take me five minutes or so. That meant that I was now somewhat at a standstill and those were rather rare when you had a toddler hanging about. 

It had just started lashing it down outside. I could hear the heavy raindrops as they splattered their way across the windowpanes and formed a shallow pond on the skylight a few feet above my head. 

It had only started spitting just as Matty and I had re-emerged from our little breakaway. My unfiltered mouth had been the beginning of an untimely end as I hadn't been able to sit there and stomach the silence much longer, having mentally scolded myself enough. 

So I'd talked Matty off the ledge (literally) and hummed softly to myself as we’d descended the stairs in a desperate attempt to break up the awkward tension that drenched me. Adi and Jamie had been waiting up for us by the window when we'd returned and Healy's manager had been in a hurry to whisk him away, grinning happily as he said his goodbyes, a mobile pressed to his ear whilst he coerced Healy down the stairs. He went without much bother.

"That went well, I reckon!" Came Adi's voice as she exited the kitchenette, holding another round of tea in her hands and a plate of bourbons too. 

She settled herself down onto the sofa and motioned for me to come join her, clicking her tongue whilst her many rings clattered against her ceramic mug. The same one she often favoured.

"Come on, sit down! I want to know the ins and outs of everything you two talked about up there! Twitter's been going positively mad ever since the show went live!"

I sighed but followed the order, taking up a perch on the edge of the settee beside her, enjoying the warmth that blanketed my hands upon being handed my own brew. The heat of it tingling my fingertips.

"It turned out okay then? No one’s started up a riot, or threatened to have my life, have they?"

Adi rolled her eyes good-naturedly in reply, laughing at my melodramatics. "Nah, you're all good, babe. Think a few of 'em actually liked you. Fancy that, hey?" 

She winked at me from over the rim of her mug but I merely hummed in return, knowing that Ads didn't miss the underlying scepticism that accompanied it.

"I'm serious, M! Apparently it's been a while since Matty's acted so genuine! Hang on, reckon that’s the right word for it?" She shrugged, answering her own question, and then barrelled on, "Either way, they're already petitioning for us to have him on again. Here just look, I'll show you."

I watched on as Adi tried to balance her scalding hot tea on the knob of her knee whilst she fumbled for her phone. I stilled it just in time before it could start tilting and she grinned up at me in thanks, now brandishing a bright screen. "Aha! Here you are. See there, babe? They adore you!"

With a scrunch of my nose, I leant in closer to peer down at the illuminated text, watching as a stream of tweets continued to flood Adi’s neverending feed. I placed my mug down onto the coffee table not long after and stole the phone from out of the girl's grasp.

M @/user1 15s Lovedlovedloved today's show!! #MouseOnAMic 

13 @/user2 23s The smiles?! How cute, he looked like he really enjoyed the interview!

Pol @/user3 29s Missed seeing Adi’s lovely face:(( But I honestly think this was one of the show's best releases!!!

Robber @/user4 37s AHHH what was that?? 

Bean @/user5 46s Um imma need a minute bc I don't think I've heard Matty talk that much in a while

197die @/user6 51s Why are they so adorable?? My heart!!

AM @/user7 1m Please bring Matty back!! @/petitesouris @/AdelineWells_

"Shit."

Adi cackled whilst I chucked her back her phone, surprised by what I’d read.

"Told you, babe! They seem to love the two of you together."

"Why are they spouting all that crap?"

Adi shrugged, exiting the app with a swipe of her thumb before switching the whole thing off. "Just the internet, ain’t it? Besides... they're not really wrong."

She laughed loudly at whatever expression must have crossed my face then and I huffed to myself, picking up my mug and shuffling over to settle further into the cushions.

"He's so painfully male though, Adi. I mean, you must've seen all the models he hangs about with."

Adi’s eyes lit up at that, looking as though I’d just mentioned that Greggs was currently handing out free sausage rolls on the nearest street corner, I raised a brow.

"Oh, I have, babe. Just didn't realise that you've been keeping tabs on him too!"

Helplessly I spluttered, almost spilling my tea in my rush to sit up. Ads tittered away, so obviously entertained by my reaction.

"I have not!"

Adi hummed sceptically, mug cradled close to her chest now, "Sure, hun, and the sun doesn’t shine out of my arse."

I flicked her arm, "I'm being honest with you- I just had to get a little background information on him for the interview! That's all."

With a slow nod and a shitty attempt to dampen her ever growing grin, Adi replied, "What, so you don't think he's fit then?"

My eyes widened and lips parted at her question. 

I couldn’t outright deny that Healy was nice to look at- he fit a certain esthetic, alright? But I also did not want Adi teasing me anymore than she already had. Especially after seeing what all of Matty’s fans had to say about the pair of us online. Was it too late to switch careers?

Besides, it was just a passing fancy sort of thing, and Healy obviously didn’t view me in the same light. That, and I had Teddy to worry about. If anything this was just a fleeting thing, I could admit that at the very least.

"He's-"

"Fit as fuck? Hotter than a rubber ring on a summer's day? Mysterious enough to lure just about any one in?" Adi interrupted, filling in the blanks. 

I blinked at her before snorting a laugh, my breath fanning the steam that slipped from my tea.

"I was going to say nice."

"Nice? Nice! Mouse, that boy is not 'nice'! Far from it! Broody and bloody stubborn, those I can get behind! But nice? No. Nice looking, sure- maybe if you were an eighty year old woman complimenting her grandson on his birthday. But not nice."

"That's the second time today I've been compared to an OAP." I acknowledged, frowning at what it might mean.

Adi's eyes snapped over to meet mine, earnest and impenetrable. "I'm bein’ serious here, Mouse."

I rolled my eyes.

She groaned loudly in return. "Come on, just admit it! He's a right looker."

I hung my head against the back of the settee, emitting a heavy sigh as I stared up at the ceiling. “Yeah, alright, he’s fit.”

"I knew it! You so fancy him!"

My head snapped towards her at that and I narrowed my eyes, “I didn’t say that.”

"Didn't need to." Adi beamed all too happily, pulling a knee up to her chest, eyes gleaming. "It's called reading in between the lines, babe!"

"Ads, how- you know what, forget it. I'm not even going to begin to tell you how stupid you just sounded."

Adi harrumphed and waved off my efforts to preserve some of my dignity. "So, what are you going to do about it then? Cross your heart and hope he's down to fuck you sideways?"

I truly couldn’t help the way I grimly spat my tea back into my mug whilst I started to shake with a startled laughter. Adi, the cow, had to pull what was left of my drink away just so that I could wipe at my chin, laughing all the while.

"You're such a twat, you know that?"

Adi only grinned at me from the other end of the sofa and shrugged. "You love me for it." 

I couldn't deny that, grinning right back at her. "That I do, my love. Fancy keeping me company whilst I pick up Teddy then?"

--

Another week dragged by and my days had been nothing short of chaotic, filled with stress, tears, and toddler tantrums. 

Teddy had fallen ill on the Wednesday, all snotty nosed and high temperature. I’d had to take the day off work just to pull him out of nursery early when the school had called, leaving Adi to fend for herself for a long while. The little tike had refused to eat or drink the entire time he'd spent recuperating in my bed, and I’d been forced into bargaining with him to simply get him to take his medicine. Who claimed too much tele was bad for you anyway?

Teddy's temperature spiked on Thursday night though and I had struggled to hold back sobs of my own whilst on the phone to my mam, listening to my son shriek and cry in the background as she tried to instruct me on what to do. 

But thankfully, things had finally started looking up for us on the Friday afternoon. Teddy had asked for some toast that morning and, although I had been fearful (the sight of sick having been something I’d been forced to get over this past week), the boy had managed to keep it down. And we'd spent that evening together on the sofa, swaddled in a sea of blankets, singing quietly along to The Lion King.

Saturday and Sunday had been a whirlwind. I had spent so much time cooped up in the flat with Teddy that Finn came round Saturday morning to all but shove us out the front door. Ever the angel though, he'd treated us to a greasy fry up down at the local cafe and had even taken Teddy off of my hands for a couple of hours when Adi had texted to ask if I'd be around later on to help out with Monday's show. 

Sunday was spent keeping an eye on my rowdy four year old, who had all but bounced back to the image of perfect health- as though the previous few days had been nothing but a bad dream. Humoring Adi and I whilst we’d conjured up new ideas at the studio.

Healy’s management team had emailed about mid week, sharing some statistics and thanking the show for our ‘aid’, but it had all sounded far too condescending for my liking. Then again, most emails tended too and my mood had also been depleting rapidly ever since the segment had aired. So there was that. Adi did get a few minutes spare to email something back for me though, which I appreciated. 

Jamie had also taken the time to message too, which had brought a shocked smile to my face. I’d figured that the man must have picked up my number from Adi whilst he'd been visiting, or from someone else on his team. But I’d texted back, wishing him well, not wanting to be impolite.

But the thing is, Jamie hadn’t left it there. Which had been a somewhat welcomed surprise. Throughout the week he'd taken to messaging here and there, asking about the show, my day, taking the time to fill me in on all the good and bad parts of his own. His job seemed more than fucking stressful, but I should've guessed that much, what with him having the pleasure of having to keep up with Healy all day. I'd wondered on more than one occasion how that dynamic typically played out, but never asked.

It was around four on Monday afternoon when I found myself leaving the loft, finally having caught up on most of the crap I’d missed the last week.

Adi had long since departed, having had a commitment to get to. Something to do with helping a mate find the perfect dress for her big day, which was fast approaching, and had abandoned me the first chance she'd got, leaving me to wrap and lock up all on my lonesome.

Teddy was also off with Finn after school today, as he was most afternoons when we had to film for the show. So I’d planned to pick up a takeaway to surprise the two of them with on my way over, then stick around long enough to pester my best mate before he finally grew sick of Teddy and I and sent us on our merry way.

I was just locking up, humming a soft tune that had been stuck in my head all day, when I heard a scuffle sound around the corner. I only looked up once I'd tugged on the handle hard enough to make sure all was well, but was startled to find a familiar face staring back at me.

"Shit. You proper scared me!" I breathed out heavily, a hand coming up to rest over my beating heart whilst my eyes wandered over Matty’s hunched form.

The singer was clad in the same heavy jacket he'd been wearing the last time we'd met, an oversized hoodie and jeans too, as well as a pair of dark sunnies which blended effortlessly into a black beanie that hid his hair from view. 

"What are you doing here?" I questioned and could hear the shock that lined my voice as I stepped out onto the pavement to join the singer, who had since propped himself up against the side of my building.

"Was in the area." Was all Matty gave away, but he kicked off of the wall to shove his hands into his trouser pockets when I approached.

"You were in the area and just so happened to end up here?" I asked, bemused. My eyes glanced up and down the narrow backstreet to see if anyone else was mulling about long enough to recognise ‘the singer from that one band’ before they retreated back to him.

Healy tilted his head to one side, "That alright?"

He looked far too nonchalant, as though he had a tendency to drop in at every radio station he'd wound up commandeering over the years, making me feel stupid for not having expected it.

I had to force out a little laugh, unsure on how to reply exactly. "Yeah- I mean, sure. Just, I don't know, I didn't expect to ever see you again."

Healy's mouth quirked ever so slightly to one side at that but he hid it in the way he cocked his chin towards the highstreet a way ahead. "Where you off to?"

"Um," I swallowed, pausing for a moment to tug at my jacket sleeve so that I could take a quick look at my watch. "Well, I've got about an hour before I've got to be somewhere, but nowhere right this minute."

Maybe I was being presumptuous. Bold even. But why else would he be here? 

I lifted my head back up and found Healy already watching me, and if the man had noticed the scars that marred my wrist he didn't say anything, simply nodded.

"Got time to grab a coffee then?" He suggested and I, even in my dazed surprise, somehow dipped my head in slight agreement.

"Sure." I answered, albeit a little breathlessly.

We walked together, me just a step ahead as we emerged from the sidestreet which housed the studio. I caught himself waiting for someone else to catch onto the fact that the infamous Matty Healy was walking amongst us commoners. But no one seemed to be any the wiser, Matty's all black get-up allowed him to move about the city almost inconspicuously, letting me shepherd him into a nearby bakery without any fuss at all.

"Why don't you go grab us a table and I'll order?" I found myself saying as we stepped into the shop.

Healy stared at me for a long moment before he finally nodded. Quietly asking for a simple coffee as I wandered over to join the queue.

Joanna's bakery had been around for decades now, or so I’d been told, shacked up between ever changing franchises and fast food chains. It had become a long loved favourite of mine since having moved to London, I'd found it during my time at uni and it had truly been a godsend throughout the first few weeks of having baby Teddy. Joanna's coffee had been the only thing keeping me afloat way back then.

I gave a bright grin when the woman’s greying hair came into view, eyes catching mine from behind a pair of spectacles Teddy, for some odd reason, seemed fascinated by whenever we dropped in.

"Hello, you." The ageing woman greeted me with a sweet smile. "Good to see you're doing well, and how is young Teddy?"

"He's doing fine, thank you, Joa. Just overcame a bout of flu." I informed her, hip checking the wooden counter that housed a row of cabinets. "Been a hectic couple of days."

Joanna's brows lifted and her thin lips pursed in concern as she tucked a tea-towel into her navy apron. "I can only assume so. He's doing well now though, I hope?"

I waved off her unnecessary worry with a fond smile, "Right as rain, racing around without a care in the world today. Me though? I’m still trying to get over it- not that he realises.” I chuckled, “He gave me quite the scare, if I'm being honest."

"Kids tend to do that. But Mouse, my dear, you should have called! I would have had some soup sent over for him."

With an appreciative grin, I thanked her, knowing that there was no falseness in her offer, "I'll remember that for next time, I'm sure Teds would've loved it."

Joanna returned my sentiment with a gentle nod before the sound of the shop's bell rang over the door, announcing another customer. "Well then, what can I get for you, dove?"

I exhaled, glancing up towards the blackboarded menu mostly out of habit, "One regular coffee, please-"

"Isn't it a bit late in the day for coffee? You'll be up all night." Joanna scolded lightly, cutting me off, I couldn't help the soft chuckle I gave. Forever humoured by the women in my life constantly telling me what to do.

"Not for me, Joa, don't you worry." I hurried to assure her before prattling off the rest of my order without another interruption once Joanna had hummed in a quiet understanding. 

"Takeaway?" She prompted, but I shook my head, gesturing over my shoulder towards the many tables behind.

"We'll sit in, if that's okay."

Joanna blinked in surprise, obviously not having seen me enter with anybody. "I didn't realise Adeline had come in, I usually hear her."

I gave a peel of laughter at that but was quick to press my lips together. "No, no. No Adi today, I'm with a new friend."

The older woman smiled at me as she pushed her glasses further up her nose, "I see."

My head tilted in confusion at odd her tone but left it be. "Could I also get some of that famous chocolate cake of yours while I'm at it? Two slices, please."

"Of course, I'll have it sent right over."

I grinned and waited until I'd paid and Joanna had turned her back on me before shoving my change into the tip jar. 

It was an ongoing thing between us, the first time I'd tried to leave anything behind she'd sent me on my way with an entire tray of carrot cake. I had been more than grateful for the unexpected gift but it didn't take me long before I realised what the older woman had been up to. So I'd taken to sneaking my tips into the jar whenever she wasn't looking. Joanna though, it seemed, had eyes in the back of her head, so she chose to repay this act with a multitude of free treats, often gifted through Teddy so that I was unable to decline.

Picking up the two mugs Joanna set down on the counter, I was then promptly shooed away. So, shaking my head and chuckling softly, I turned without another word said and bypassed a crowd of customers that had since entered the bakery, in search of Matty. 

I found him seated at a booth in the very far back, having shucked off his jacket and glasses now that he had his back turned towards the rest of the room. Though he’d kept the beanie, I noted.

Steeling the nerves I felt, I settled the drinks down on the table and smiled apologetically when I saw that Matty had startled at the sound.

"One plain black coffee. Didn't know whether you wanted any sugar or not, so I stashed some sachets away just in case." I laughed before upending a supply of sugar packets from my pocket onto the table. 

He simply laughed as he reached out to take two. "Cheers."

I dipped my head and worked on pouring a few splashes of milk into my own brew. I was just stirring when someone approached, almost instantly I found myself grinning at the sight.

"Mouse! My, it's been a while, what ever did we do to deserve such a pleasure?" Cassie greeted me with a delighted smile, settling two small plates onto the table before rounding it to pull me into a hug.

Laughing softly, I wrapped an arm around her neck and enjoyed the way she squeezed me tight, a fixture that accompanied every one of her hugs, before we parted. "Only been a week since you last saw me, Cas. Don't act as though you've missed me."

Cassie gifted me with a wink and beaming grin before she pivoted and turned to catch a glance at my tagalong.

I watched as her eyes widened briefly, obviously not having expected this particular visitor to be staring back at her, but she was professional enough to conceal her shock.

"Well, this is a first." Cassie announced, still smiling away whilst she looked between the two of us sat at the table. "Can't remember the last time you brought us a new visitor, Mouse. You must be special- I'm Cassie, by the way."

Healy's eyes darted between the hand the waitress had extended out and myself. I tried for an encouraging smile but wasn't exactly sure if I’d managed to pull it off or not. 

Cassie, as lovely as she was, was definitely a shock to an introvert’s system. I’d learnt that lesson all too quickly. But Healy had handled Adi with ease and she was levels above Cassie, the bright eyed woman standing before us now almost seemed shy in comparison, in truth.

"Matty." He forced out as he took Cas’s hand in his own, "Great to meet you."

He cleared his throat when his palm returned to cradling the inside of his cup and Cassie smiled sweetly at him.

"Good to meet you too, Matty. I hope you enjoy the cake, it's a favourite of M's." She chuckled, nudging the plate closest towards me. "I hear it's all she ever raves about."

I grinned impishly as I picked up my spoon and bit down on a mouthful of chocolate delight. "And it's all I ever will rave about. Nothing compares to Joa’s gâteau."

Cassie rolled her eyes at me but tittered, "I know, I know, we've heard it all before! I'll leave you both to it then, the life of a waitress waits for no one. Hope you enjoy the food though- and again, it was nice to meet you Matty, don't be a stranger."

With that she waltzed off, but not without throwing a gleeful grin over her shoulder that only I was meant to see. 

I wrinkled my mouth to keep from reacting outwardly before deciding to focus back on my dessert. 

"Sorry about her." I felt the need to murmur, glancing across the table.

Healy shook his head, smiling slightly. "Don't, she seemed nice."

I couldn't help my short laugh, recalling an earlier conversation had with Adi. "Oh she's nice, all right."

Healy didn't comment on my strange reaction, only arched a questioning brow and pulled his cake in closer.

"You know, you pronounced that in perfect French."

"Pronounced what?" I quizzed, already scooping up another spoonful.

"Gâteau." Healy informed, botching the imitation, fingertips poised over the rim of his plate.

"Yeah, and?"

He shook his head again, "Just caught me off guard is all. You speak it then, fluently?"

Tongue in my cheek, I nodded. "Mam's from a tiny village in Alsace."

"Wow. So how'd you end up with that accent then?"

I breathed out an airy laugh, "What's that meant to mean, Manc? Is it too crass for the likes of your wellbred ears?"

Healy's eyes, honest to God, bulged as he fought not to trip over his own tongue in an attempt to mend his minced words. 

"No, no, I just meant-"

"I know what you meant. Don't worry." I chuckled, taking pity seeing as I’d already shot back. "I’m only having you on. She met my dad there when he was visiting, but the two of them moved when they married."

"Oh. That's good, I ‘spose. She loved him enough to follow him home."

I hollowed my cheeks and focused my stare on my chocolate smeared spoon. 

"Wouldn't put it quite like that, but yeah she loved him. Even after he fucked off."

With a cluck of my tongue, I pushed the cake away and focused instead on my drink.

"I'm sorry."

Frowning for a split second, I forced out a breath and the emotions that had roused back down, then put on a brave face. Determined not to think about it any longer than I had to.

"No, don’t be. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. Just, hard to talk about is all." I scratched at the grain etched into the wooden table.

"Nah, I get that." Healy assured with a shrug, "Don't have to apologise for it though, you have a right to your emotions."

For some reason, that reply surprised me and I had to fight back the urge to say whatever was on the tip of my tongue. I merely nodded instead and went back to picking at the cake.

"Fuck. That's good."

My head snapped up at the audible moan that Healy emitted and found the man pulling a chocolate coated silver spoon from his lips.

"What the fuck do they put in this?" He questioned me, eyes wide as he heaped another helping into his mouth.

"No idea." I laughed, watching closely now.

"Whatever it is, it's fucking good."

And with that, the tension was broken. Healy practically inhaled his serving of cake whilst I portioned mine, smiling around every mouthful. We made small talk as we sipped our drinks quietly, ignoring everyone else bustling about the bakery. 

It wasn't long before I finally found the balls to ask the question I'd been meaning to ask ever since Matty had shown up outside the studio though.

"So, can I ask why you decided to pay me a visit now? Or, is it all top secret? Like hush hush."

His lips twisted before he replied, "Don't have an actual answer for you. Had a shitty day and ended up storming off, didn't even realise I'd wandered so far from the recording studio until I caught sight of one of the backroads we'd taken to get to your loft the other day.” He shrugged, finger toying with the near empty cup. “Was faced with the choice of finding the nearest pub and getting pissed, or seeing if you were in. It was a toss up."

"And I won?" I found myself asking, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"Would seem so."

"Happy I could help, then. The former wouldn't have done you much good."

Healy’s eyes met mine then and his gaze flickered across the length of my face. 

I couldn't really place the expression he wore and almost had a small fit when I wondered over whether or not he was looking at my scars, but found that I didn't care much. Which was odd and had me feeling self conscious all over again.

"No, I don't suppose it would've."

It took a second for me to connect the dots, to remember what I’d even said, but when I did I smiled.

Not long after polishing off our drinks, I suggested we take a walk to burn off the cake we’d piled on. But in reality, I had just realised that without the big jacket and sunglasses it was hard to miss the marvel that was Matty Healy sitting in an old Islington bakery.

Matty had been all for the idea and so together we’d exited the bakery, me calling out my goodbyes to Joanna and Cassie when I passed. The older woman’s gaze lingered on Matty’s retreating form but she bid us nothing but a soft nod with her quiet farewell.

We wasted what was left of the hour I had wandering down backroads, just taking in the city and talking between ourselves. I picked up on where Matty had been raised, in a large house in a town just south of Manchester. He hadn’t lingered too long on the topic of his family, either reasoning that I already knew about it or preferring not to, but I was more than happy to tell Matty about my mum. Recalling stories of my youth, of Christmases spent in our tiny cottage, and summers down by the creek. 

It was to my own wasted effort, not trying to focus too many of my questions on Matty’s career, because a lot of what surrounded him came from or was to do with being in the limelight. From his friends and social circle, to his everyday life. Matty’s hobby had and always would be music, that much was incredibly clear to me, only he’d just been lucky enough to make a career out of it.

Before long, I realised that our time was finally up and I was left observing the way Matty toed the edge of the curb just outside of the busy train station.

Surprisingly, Matty had wanted to walk me all the way there, just to make sure that I could arrive and board the train with all my limbs still intact. And, to his credit, he’d done exactly that, even with all of my amused reassurance that I’d be fine and did it daily.

But in truth, it was just me being overly concerned about someone recognising who Matty really was and starting a crazed frenzy. In my head all I could see was him disappearing into an ocean of teenage girls that suddenly swarmed him, calling out for help. 

I would be well and truly fucked if something were to happen to Matty whilst he was under my watch.

"You know," I began, staring up at the dark haired man before me. Noticing then that Matty, although older, looked an awful lot younger in that very moment. "I am glad you picked me."

He stared back at me, dark shades tucked into the lining of his jacket now. “That so?”

My cheeks bunched as I tried to dim my smile.

"Yeah," I confirmed with a soft chuckle, "Strange as it was at first, I surprisingly enjoyed myself."

"Surprisingly? I'm glad." Matty smiled, a small thing that wrinkled the corners of his eyes as he tugged at his ear. "I did too."

I returned the gesture, chest tightening.

The pavement rumbled beneath our feet then, meaning yet another train had pulled into the station beneath us and the Underground didn't wait around for anyone. I knew, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I’d best be on the next one in hopes of making it to Finn's at a decent hour but I was unable to leave Matty just yet. 

"You gonna be okay getting home?" I wondered, gaze skirting over the many heads that crowded the street as a dozen other people filed out of the station doors. "I mean, have you got money for a cab or something? Someone to call?"

I flushed when Matty laughed at my unnecessary concern, suddenly embarrassed by the thought of sounding like my mother. I bit back the urge to outwardly cringe.

"I'll be alright, babe. I'll have someone pick me up. Thanks though."

I dipped my head in understanding and then shoved my cold hands deeper into the pockets of my coat, rocking back and forth slightly. "So I'll be seeing you then?"

"Would you want to?"

I blinked, surprised by the question. Or maybe by the way Matty had phrased it.

“What d’you mean? What, did you just figure I'd spend an hour with you, dash off, and then never speak to you again? If it's alright, I actually wouldn't mind keeping in contact. It's not like Jamie doesn't already talk my ear off everyday, so what's adding you into the mix gonna do?"

“Hang on. Jamie? As in my Jamie? Jamie, Jamie? Manager Jamie, he actually messages you?” Matty immediately quizzed and at my mirthful nod, he shook his head in disbelief. “The dickhead!”

"He never mentioned it?" I thought to ask, unable to stifle my growing laughter.

"No he fucking didn't!" Matty replied with his tongue pressed against his top teeth. But his mouth was still curled upwards as he continued to shake his head, and so I took his reaction with a pinch of salt.

"Well, sorry to have been the one to break it to you then."

Matty snorted and lifted his eyes, hazy brown holding my stare. “Nah, it’s fine. Honestly just fucked off he got your number before I even had the chance to ask."

My eyebrows shot upwards, unsure on how to take that. "Um, well. I mean you could still ask?"

The minuscule smile Matty had been wearing switched into a full blown smirk at my stuttered words and I saw the challenge in his stare when he stealthily stepped closer.

"Well then, Squeaks. Would you do me the honour of giving me your number, or you gonna have me beg in front of all these people?"

I huffed a breathy laugh as I pulled my mobile out, handing it over to him without a second thought.

The way his face lit up caught me off balance and I could only watch on whilst Matty rushed to type an assortment of numbers into the device.

“What are you doing?” I suddenly asked, ginning when Matty angled the phone out in front of him.

He paused to glance over, shooting me a mischievous grin, one that had my stomach flipping at the very sight- and shit, if that wasn't a bad sign. But I could only focus on Matty now, on the way his grin changed his entire face, the haughty arrogance he had once carried fading alongside the sharp, sunken lines of his profile. It brought a pretty colour to his cheeks and brightened the shadows that stormed his eyes. 

It was hard to look away.

“Need a photo, don’t I?” Matty retorted easily, “How else you gonna know it’s me phoning?”

I was honestly somewhat startled by the sudden difference I saw in Matty then, in the confidence he now held, the very same that appeared in the videos I’d seen of him up on stage. In the good natured teasing and wit he shot out that had me struggling to form a valid response.

“Messaged myself too,” Matty explained, pulling me from my observation. “So all we need now, is a photo of you.”

Sure enough, when I pulled my full focus back to Matty, or on what he was now saying rather, I found him there holding his own phone up towards me.

"Come on, give us a smile then, mardarse." Matty mocked and I scoffed in return, the corners of my mouth twitching at the sound of his accent becoming more prominent. 

“God, you’re a right prat.” I rebuked, but it was softened by the mad grin I wore as I knuckled Matty’s elbow. “Fine, go on then, but make sure you get my good side, Healy!”

"But every side is your good side!"

I simply rolled my eyes at the exaggeration then leant in as near as I could to the camera so that it could get a close up of the face I made. Hands still tucked into my pockets and eyes now staring directly into the lens, I pooled my tongue out like a panting dog as I tilted my head to the side.

Matty’s bark of laughter echoed out across the highstreet, loud enough that it had a few heads turning, but no one paid much mind to a man who now had his face buried in his phone, gazing down at the picture he had just snapped.

"Good enough?" I asked, rubbing at my nose and glancing about as the self doubt began to seep in now that the fun was over.

Matty raised his head, and I reckoned that my pulse must have stuttered when I caught a glimpse of his wide eyes and bright smile. 

"Perfect."

[kwinsispn3]

Camping

@saturn-mydarling asked: hey Kay! love your sister!winchester fics btw :))) I was wanting to request a fic where the winchesters (and 13-15 year old sister) go camping? I think it would be really funny (and lots of fluff/no angst pls) also maybe include castiel? honestly just let your imagination run wild but I'd like it to be something humorous pls :) tysm and love your works. keep it up <3 [also NO j*hn winchester please & ty]

Pairings: Dean, Sam, & Cas x sister!reader (written from y/n’s pov.)

It was not often the 3 of us would get to go on a vacation. Let alone, have time off in general. So when Dean said we were all going camping, I was so excited, I pretty much started packing immediately.

“We’re going camping?! Like, for real camping with a tent and all?” I asked hopeful.

"Yeah! Why not." Dean smirked.

"Yup. We thought we could get some time away from these walls. Cases have gone cold for a while, so let's do something enjoyable while we can." Sam elaborated.

"EEEE! When are we going then?" I asked excitedly.

"Soon as we pack the car...."

"And, probably get some more camping stuff." Sam cut in, knowing it had been a while since they've had the camping essentials.

I could already picture it now, falling asleep under the stars. I always loved the outdoors. Most people think of forests and woodsy areas as scary, eerie, but not me. I’ve always found them so peaceful, if you stay still and silent, it’s so serene. You can hear almost nothing but the sounds of nature existing, trees creaking and moving with the wind, birds, small animals, leaves falling.

It had been so long since I’d gone camping, if at all. I think I went camping as a kid a few times with my dad and brothers. My closest thing to camping after that was our stakeouts, whether that be waiting in a cemetery at night or sitting outside the impala in front of someone’s property. The next day, Dean and I went shopping at the farm and fleet. Of course, he had to argue with me over what was "real camping" and what was not.

"There's no firewood just sittin' out in stacks in the wild. You gotta chop down your own."

"Well, are you gonna spend 2 hours or so chopping down a tree?"

"Maybe I will.." Dean smirked, walking past me to look further down the aisle.

"Ok, we're gonna need stuff to ignite fires. Matches, a little lighter fluid..." I glanced at my list.

"Yeah? That's the easy way to start a fire, the cheating way. That ain't real camping." Dean shook his head.

"When have you ever started a fire with your bare hands?"

Dean paused and rolled his eyes. We finished going through my list and checked out. That night we packed the car and our individual duffels. We set out the next morning to a state park about an hour and a half away, just far away enough from the bunker we call our home. Cas paid us a visit, just as we were on our way out the door.

"Dean, Sam, y/n... Hello." Cas addressed each of us.

"Hey, Cas, what's goin on?" Dean greeted him.

"I wanted to see how you all were doing, is everything alright?" Cas asked with a bit concern.

"Yeah, we uh... Don't worry, leads are cold, it's been radio silent for a while. Our last case was like, a month ago." Sam assured.

"Oh. Well, what are you all up to?" Cas asked, visibly relaxing.

"We're going camping. Wanna come?" I asked.

"Well, okay." He agreed. "Cool, we're leaving now!"

"Cas, do you need to bring anything?" Sam asked.

"Sam, he's an angel. I think he's good." I replied for Cas.

"I, do have my own toothbrush." Cas voiced plainly.

~

Dean paid the campground fee and we pulled into a spot in the corner, away from most of the other campers. First thing we did was set up our tent. We splurged a little and got a 10 person tent, which was going to be so nice, we'd all have our own space. I scattered the pieces all around, Sam picked up the instructions and started reading. Dean on the other hand, started attempting to put the tent together. He fumbled around with the pieces for a while before a few that he got put together, came tumbling down.

"Really?!" Dean threw his hands up in the air.

"y'know, sometimes it helps to read instructions!" Sam chuckled.

"Why didn't we just get one of those pop up tents??"

"Because, it was an extra hundred dollars!" I reminded him.

Once the tent was set up, I arranged all the foam sleeping pads and draped our sleeping bags over them. The boys unpacked their things on their sides. Cas sat outside the tent on a fallen tree, gazing around the campsite.

"So, what do we do now?" Cas asked.

"We do camping stuff." I said like it was obvious. Cas just kept looking at me confused. "Go on a hike, go fishing, swim in the lake... we can make a fire when it gets late to tell stories, roast marshmallows and s'mores..." I went on.

"I'm not swimming in no lake." Sam chimed in.

"Yeah, cus Sam hates fun. Also, he's like a cat and hisses anytime he's near water." I joked.

"The fuck is your problem?" Sam tossed a towel at my head. I made crazy eyes at him.

We all went for a walk after that. I said a hike, but Dean didn't like that I referred to it as a hike, so we were going for a walk. I could hear both my brothers swatting at mosquitos behind them, majority of the time. "My god, it is too buggy for this." Sam cringed, slapping his arm.

"Are we almost back to the campsite?" Dean whined.

"Yeah, why? You gettin' tired?" I turned around.

"....No...." He looked super bothered.

"Don't wear so much cologne next time." I laughed.

"Shut up."

~

“So what is the point of this?” Cas asked, awkwardly holding a stick.

We all started the fire once the daylight dimmed. I love s’mores, s’mores are the best. But they taste the best when you’re camping, or outdoors. When you have s’mores on a regular occasion it just isn’t the same. I greedily gathered all of the ingredients to get the s’mores started. We all had to find our own sticks on the walk/hike because Dean didn’t think it was necessary to buy sticks.

“There’s no point. But if there was, it would be delicious and fun tradition.” I said.

“Dean, would you stop eating all the ingredients!” Sam scolded at Dean, who was popping marshmallows out of the bag. I laughed when I looked over and saw Dean’s face. He had to have had at least 3 to 4 giant marshmallows stuffed in his mouth.

I put one on my stick and got the roasting started. The 3 guys gathered around the fire too. Castiel sat there for a moment, observing our actions and soon mimicking them. He reached out with his marshmallow stick towards the fire and let his sit in the flames. He kept it there without moving it until it caught fire.

“Um, my dessert has burst into flames.” Cas said with no urgency whatsoever.

“You can’t just hold it there forever, Cas. Take it out, blow on it!” Dean pointed out.

Cas held up the stick that had a flaming torch at the end of it. He attempted to blow on it, but it wasn’t strong enough. “Guys, what do I do?” He shook the marshmallow around, causing it to fling off the stick and into the grass. I stood up and walked over to the small flame in the grass, stomping on it until the flame was extinguished.

Cas lowered his head. "I'm sorry, y/n."

"Cas, don't worry about it." I laughed lightly, realizing the angel had never done such things before, it probably seemed so silly.

As the sun continued to set, we started telling scary stories, mainly ghost stories. It was so much fun having a fire going as our only source of light, in the middle of the woods, a full moon right above us that we could see through the clearing of the trees.

"And as the story goes, the first thing you'll hear is the snapping of sticks beneath its paws. Then, you can hear its breath when it gets real close." I was telling a story about a wolf that was tied to these woods with a curse, describing it kind of like a hellhound.

"Man, that is so... stupid." Dean's voice flooded with sarcasm.

"Ok fine. But when you hear it's claws tearing into the tent, don't come crying to me." I shrugged.

Sam put out the fire, the three of us then zipped ourselves up in the tent for the night. I found my sleeping bag, and happily enclosed myself in the thick sack of warmth. It wasn't hard for me to get comfortable, but I could tell the boys were having a hard time. They shuffled around the nylon ground of the tent, whisper shouting at each other when one would accidentally kick the other. Cas, of course, did not sleep. He sat outside the tent, guarding it in a way.

It was around half way through the night when Sam and Dean were awoken by a sudden noise.

"What was that?" Dean mouthed to Sam. He shook his head, keeping still and trying to listen. That's when they heard a stick snapping in the distance. Dean's eyes widened, he sat up slowly.

"Dude, will you relax... it's probably just an animal." Sam whispered as he watched Dean already gripping his gun tightly.

"Or a damn wolf?!" He justified.

Sam rolled his eyes, turning back over when they heard a low huffing breath. Right next to the tent.

Sam whipped his head back around, signaling to Dean that he in fact heard that one. Dean started to try and unzip the tent as quiet as possible, until a loud ripping erupted on the side of the tent. The two brothers then scrambled to get out of the tent, jostling me around in the process and waking me up.

"Guys, what the hell?!" I yelled out, watching the tent door open. Dean and Sam ran into Cas, nearly knocking him over as they rushed past him. Once they were out in the open, they clicked on their flashlights and held up their weapons in every direction.

"Where is it?!" Dean shouted at anyone.

"Where's what?" I yelled annoyed, poking my head out of the tent. "You're letting the bugs in!!" I closed the tent behind me.

"The cursed wolf! I heard it that time." Sam explained.

"There is no cursed wolf! I was making that shit up as I went."

"B-but the sticks..."

"A-and the breathing...."

"I believe that was my bad." Cas spoke up, putting a stop to the rambling Winchesters'.

"I was trying to find the zipper on the tent, it was dark."

Just then, another snapping noise was heard in the area. Everyone tensed up. Sam shone his light where the noise was coming from, showing a little fox running away. Everyone's eyes fell on the little creature, letting out a big sigh. "Y'all are somethin' else." I huffed, crouching my way back into the tent.

Sam and Dean shared a frustrating look, then turning to Cas. "Cas, why were you coming in the tent?" Sam asked, pocketing his weapon. "I was coming to sit inside, these small insects will not leave my vessel alone." He gestured to the open. Dean let out a small huff.

"Man, I hate camping."

"Me too."

[weministertomonsters]

Naga Father (Araza) x gender neutral reader - 3

@rivalriotrenegade @viviansnowmain Update! <3

The party is underway, and you couldn't be more grateful that it's going so smoothly. You and Sam made the invitations together, and he had chosen to invite three kids from his class that he got along with. They were triplets. You had babysat them a couple of times and while they were always a handful, they were the sweetest children you'd ever met.

All three of them attended and they brought presents. They're now playing outside, taking turns burying each other in the sandbox and demolishing the garden as they toss the sand everywhere. You put a lot of thought into the games for the party, but they are having so much fun with their self-devised game that you don't mind. Mr. Araza peers outside, looking amused.

"Human children are not so different," he muses. "Every day I see more and more similarities."

"Well, I'm glad," you reply.

You mean it. In the weeks that you've known him, he has become less guarded. You've even seen him greet the neighbors sometimes as he goes off to work. He's not as harsh with Sam and it causes the dear boy to flourish. Looks like there are improvements all around.

You're taking the cake out of the fridge when you notice something. Mr. Araza has gotten relaxed around you to the point that he leaves his tail to sprawl. Miraculously you haven't stepped or tripped on it yet. Today it looks less glossy than usual. You feel like you need to point that out.

"Oh," he says, clicking his claws on the counter and looking at his tail. "Yes, I'm about to begin shedding."

"I've never seen that before," you respond.

"Because my kind is almost always on suppressants. I haven't been taking mine for a while."

"Might I ask why?" You question as you poke the candles into the cake.

"They can cause damage with continuous use. Short breaks are recommended," he responds.

A lightbulb goes off in your head and you whip your head around to look at him.

"Doesn't that mean you go through a heat cycle as well?"

Stupid, stupid, the small voice in your head chants, but you can't take it back.

Mr. Araza gifts you with a rare smile.

"Someone has been looking things up."

"Uh... I was just curious. Just trying to understand your kind better," you stammer.

"You don't have to use the internet for that," he says. "You can just ask me."

"Really? That's..." You blank out as you search for a lighter for the candles.

"Ask me again," Mr. Araza says, the tip of his tail winding and curling, doing its own thing.

You decide to suck it up and just be forward with it, so you repeat your question.

"Do you go through a heat cycle when you're off the suppressants?"

"If by that you mean a fire racing through my veins along with the urge to mate with any soft thing in my territory, then yes," he says with a soft chuckle. "Most definitely."

You almost drop the cake as your heart jolts in surprise. Did he just say that? You had been asking out of curiosity, not with an ulterior motive.

"Sir," you say sternly.

"Apologies," he chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You're shaking your head when another thought occurs to you.

"What are you going to do about Sam when... You know, it happens?"

"My parents will pick him up and he will spend the week with them."

"The week?" You make a face.

"A heat cycle lasts that long, yes."

"Oh. I probably shouldn't be asking about this. It's unprofessional," you say.

"Ask what you like. It is nice to have a human show some curiosity," he replies.

You smile at that and step out to the door to call the kids in for cake and ice cream. Sam gets a smaller portion so that he doesn't end up hurting his stomach with overly rich human food. The party ends on a note of success, and you have more trouble than usual getting Sam to go to bed because he doesn't want to part with his presents. This is the longest you have stayed yet, and you've enjoyed every moment of it.

When you come downstairs Mr. Araza is in the kitchen, eating a slice of birthday cake. He looks up, his eyes shimmering gold. Your pay is on the counter. As you tuck it into your pocket he says,

"Do you want to stay for a drink? Coffee?"

Your lips tug into a grin and you glance at the clock, trying not to look too eager.

"Then again, it's late, so if you want to be on your way..."

"No, I'd love some coffee!" you almost shout.

You fix yourself a cup and pad into the living room. He joins you on the couch, his tail shifting restlessly as he tries to get all of himself up on it.

"I think you need a bigger couch," you point out.

He grumbles and flops down, letting his tail spill into your lap, the end flicking and curling gently around your wrist. You blink and take a sip of your coffee to try and calm down.

"Mr. Araza..." You begin and he flicks his tongue out, his eyes sharpening as he considers what he tastes in the air.

"You can call me Lith. We are familiar now."

"Lith," you repeat, trying out his name.

"What did you want to tell me?" He asks, pressing his cheek against one of the pillows, getting even more comfortable.

"I... I don't want you to pay me anymore," you blurt out. "I enjoy spending time with Sam, and I'd love to come over often. If you'll let me."

His eyes flicker closed and he lets out a bone-weary sigh.

"When did I get so comfortable with you, little human? You have invaded my life like a worm in an apple."

You consider this for a moment. "Is that... A good thing? I can't tell."

His eyes open, gazing at the ceiling. "It is a dangerous thing. Sam has imprinted on you. He sees you as someone he can trust."

Those words make you all warm, and your smile grows wider and more confident.

"And what about you? Do you trust me?"

"You have given me no reason not to," he muses. "Your personality draws me in, it beckons like a fire. It is a warmth I would like to bask in."

You've been resting your hand on his tail without realizing it, stroking it absently. He doesn't seem to mind, so you let your hand remain there, tracing his scales. You're content to sit in silence with him and contemplate this new level you're at with him. After a moment you realize he's squirming restlessly. Again.

"Is something wrong?"

"No." He pulls himself closer, setting his chin on his palm and staring at you.

"What?" You frown. "Do I have cake on my face?"

His gaze darts down and he eyes your lips for a moment, looking contemplative. The world seems to stop for a moment. It's just you, and him, and the crickets chirping outside. His eyes narrow and when his tongue flicks out again the tip nearly boops your nose. He pulls away with a soft sigh.

"You're welcome to visit whenever you like," he says simply and then slithers off the couch.

That's your cue to leave. You take a moment to rinse the mug in the kitchen before you grab your jacket. Lith follows you to the door.

"I'm booked tomorrow and the day after that, so I won't be seeing you two until Saturday, at least." You dig your hands into your pockets and add jokingly. "Think you can manage?"

Lith lifts his shoulder, his tail coiling somewhat restlessly behind. "Well. I might miss you. Goodnight."

The door closes softly in your face and you blink at the abruptness. Maybe things got a little too mushy for him. Something was definitely happening in there, but you're not sure what. You head to your car, humming. You're already looking forward to Saturday.

Unrelated but what's the boop all about? Can someone tell me please? I'm seeing it everywhere but I have no idea what's going on. It looks fun!

Edit - My dumbass just looked it up!! Should have done that first, lol.

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 11 - The Honeymoon (Part 3)

Masterpost

Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette have a fun time in Merusea Village Warnings: None except for the fact that this story is 50% written based on vibes Note: This chapter is 13k words long so yeah, strap in Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette hanging out in Merusea Village

Previous | Next

 “Madame, are you feeling alright? Please let me know if we need to stop the boat somewhere for a short rest.”  

“I assure you, I’m fine. I stopped feeling nauseous a long time ago. The boat has been moving very smoothly so far.”  

Despite your repeated assurances, Neuvillette still looked slightly doubtful. He was probably going to ask this question again later.  

After lunch, Neuvillette took you to a small dock to the south of the willow tree, where there was a small, inconspicuous boat waiting to take you two to Elynas, where Merusea Village was located. The vishap had followed you and saw you off.   

Queasiness took hold of you once you got onto this boat. It was probably because you just had lunch. Luckily, the boat wasn’t going too fast. You suspected that it was on purpose.  

You glanced up at Neuvillette. Like the rowboat at the tree, this boat was smoothly cutting through the water of its own accord. You didn’t hear a motor, nor was there anyone at the wheel.   

Leaning back against the cushions of the seat that Neuvillette made you sit on after you first mentioned your dizziness, you closed your eyes. The warm sunlight felt like a comforting blanket despite being filtered through clouds, and the refreshing sea breeze stroked the hair at your nape like gentle fingers. The boat’s steady rocking was soothing, almost hypnotic. Ah, this is heaven. I’ve been missing out.   

The cry of a seabird near your ear caused you to open your eyes. You saw Neuvillette standing at the bow. His long snow-white hair was fluttering in the wind, along with his coat tails. He had his cup in his hand, no doubt filled with water. You couldn’t see his expression from here, but judging from the relaxed set of his shoulders, he was also enjoying himself.  

In another life, Neuvillette would make a fine ship captain, you idly thought as you observed his stately, erect figure. He certainly had the bearing of one. Or what you imagined a captain would be like from the various novels and books you read.   

Your fingers itched to paint him. You were already thinking about the composition and colors. This was strange. Usually, you didn’t really enjoy painting people. You didn’t even like doing self-portraits. Landscapes and buildings were more to your taste.   

As though sensing your gaze, Neuvillette turned around and looked at you. “We will be reaching Elynas in about an hour or so. Please, relax until then, Madame. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”  

“I am. Please stop asking,” you said firmly and resolutely fixed your gaze ahead. The sharp peaks of Elynas were still just a faint dot in the distance. You could see the shadows of ships gliding on the water. What would their passengers think if they saw the Chief Justice standing in this small, inconspicuous boat?  

You turned your head back in the direction of Erinnyes. All you could see now was the shoreline and verdant trees. It was as though that giant willow tree and vishap never existed in the first place. Like it was all a dream.   

The seat next to you sank down with Neuvillette’s weight. “Did you have fun at Erinnyes?”  

“Oh, I did!” you turned to him with a broad smile. Perhaps it was just your imagination, but you thought his pupils dilated slightly. “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been to. It’s so… so mystical. I wish we could have stayed longer.”  

Neuvillette let out a little chuckle. He put his hand to his mouth, as though to hide his expression. “I’m very glad to hear that. I hope the vishap didn’t spoil your mood.”  

“Not at all,” you shook your head. “I was a little scared at first, sure, but she was actually very gentle. I did assume there would be more vishaps around, though.”  

“Most of them live underwater to hide from the sunlight and humans. I considered summoning them aboveground to introduce you to them, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”  

The thought of those large vishaps dwelling beneath the ground was somewhat disconcerting but thrilling at the same time. Erinnyes was supposed to have a complicated network of underground caverns. You supposed they lived there.   

Another thought occurred to you just then. “You can speak their language,” you turned to him. “Are you related to them in some way? Like…their overseer or something?”  

“Overseer…? Interesting choice of words,” Neuvillette stroked his chin, thinking your question over. “I would not call myself that, but I do watch over them, and they depend on me.”  

“I see,” you said. It didn’t escape your notice that he didn’t answer your question about whether or not he was related to them. You stared at his slitted eyes again. They did resemble vishaps’ eyes quite a lot. Could Neuvillette turn into a vishap? You couldn’t quite imagine it. If he could transform into something, you’d imagine that it would be something more majestic and graceful, like…  

Neuvillette cleared his throat. That was when you realized that you had been staring into his eyes for far too long. Hastily, you looked away, your gaze landing on the sparkling water.   

“I…I didn’t know that the Chief Justice’s duties also extend to looking after the wild creatures of the land,” you said. You hoped that you didn’t sound too flustered. “I don’t know how you manage it.”  

“Well, those wild creatures, as you called them, are also citizens of Fontaine, so they are under my purview in that sense. And also, the role of Chief Justice isn’t the only role I play.”  

You didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of elaborating. For a while, the two of you watched the neighboring shoreline move past you.  

Eventually, the back of the Opera Epiclese came into view. And in the distance, the Court of Fontaine loomed over the waters. Looking at it from here, you once again appreciated just how big it was. When you first moved there, it had taken you weeks to find your way around without getting lost.   

“What a great view of the city,” you said. “I’d love to take some pictures of it.”  

“Why don’t you, then?”   

“I’m afraid I’ll run out of film since I took so many pictures back at Erinnyes, so I want to save it for Merusea Village.”  

“There’s no need to worry about that. I’ve brought several rolls of film with me,” Neuvillette patted his pocket.  

“Oh, really! Don’t mind if I do, then.”  

You went to the cabin to get the Kamera, then proceeded to take pictures of the city from several angles. It certainly looked imposing, with its tall ramparts and the lofty Mont Esus looming in the background, but it was simply too gaudy and contemporary for your liking. Maybe it’ll look better in a few hundred years, when it’s all ruins. You found yourself focusing on the half-sunken beams and pillars poking out from beneath the water instead. Are those from the last flood period? I wonder what used to be there?  

You closed your eyes as you tried to recall what you read in The Divers’ Guide to Underwater Ruins. It had belonged to your old art teacher, a former adventurer, and you used to beg her to lend it to you after every lesson. I think that’s where the old Institute of Natural Philosophy used to be. How sad it is to think that so much research is forever lost.  

Although, you also felt a bubbling excitement in the pit of your stomach, as you always did whenever you thought about old, crumbling, forgotten ruins.  

“Madame, are you feeling ill?” Neuvillette’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. You opened your eyes and was met with lilac orbs filled with concern. You stepped back a little in surprise, not expecting his face to be so close to yours. You could smell the crisp scent of his cologne, although you weren’t expert enough to identify the ingredients. It was different from the one he wore at your wedding. It smells nice, though. Maybe I should start wearing perfume too.  

“I apologize for startling you,” Neuvillette said as he saw the look of alarm on your face. “You closed your eyes and had an odd expression on your face, so I was worried.”  

“Oh, it was nothing. I was simply lost in thought,” you waved your hands dismissively as you felt your heartbeat settle down to a normal rate. It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable with being in close quarters with a man or anything. Neuvillette was still your husband, after all, so you should probably get used to it. It was simply that you were still coming to grips with the fact that you were on this little boat in the middle of the sea with the Chief Justice (who really did look quite resplendent. You should ask to take a picture of him. As a souvenir of this day, of course), and you couldn’t forget how different and warm and comforting it felt to be in his arms. That was all.  

“What were you thinking about?” he asked. He stepped a little bit closer, like he was actually curious.  

About old, crumbling, unexplored ruins and how the Court of Fontaine would look much better as a pile of rocks, you thought, but didn’t say it aloud. It was hardly a conversation topic for a date. And you were pretty sure you would be taken to the Fortress of Meropide for that second part.  

“I was just spacing out. It’s really nothing,” you said dismissively.   

Neuvillette nodded slowly and turned away. A shadow passed over him. It was cast by the aquabus railing, marking the halfway point of this journey.   

By the time the boat emerged from the other side, gray clouds were gathering in the sky. Neuvillette was still turned away from you. You bit your lip, regretting your tone. You hadn’t meant for it to come off so bluntly. Your mother often criticized you for not speaking softly and gently enough for a lady. You wished you had Neuvillette’s quiet, soothing voice. It never failed to calm you.   

Instead of researching honeymoon spots, I should have read more books on how to behave on a date, you inwardly lamented. You were not a charming, talkative person by nature. It took work on your part to pretend to be one. Probably because of this, your romantic history was non-existent.   

If only you were your sister…she seemed to have a way of lighting up any situation.   

It was funny. Mutually agreeing to be just friends was supposed to be make everything easier. Friendship was supposed to be easy and natural. There was no pretense between friends. Though you didn’t exactly have a large social circle back home, you did have a few close friends. But Neuvillette was nothing like your school friends or your old art teacher, by virtue of his position and status. And that wasn’t even mentioning the fact that you two were in a marriage of convenience.  

If only Lady Furina hadn’t gotten involved, we could have lived together quietly and peacefully as just friends until the year’s end. You felt a stab of resentment towards the Archon. Because of her, Neuvillette—and you, by extension—was forced into this awkward situation. She must have really riled him up. Why can’t she just be happy that Neuvillette is getting a “taste of matrimonial happiness” or whatever and leave it at that? …Then again, we haven’t exactly acted like a proper married couple until now. And even now...  

“Madame, here you are,” Neuvillette’s voice broke through your thoughts. He was holding a cup of water out to you. “Drinking water can ease seasickness.”  

You haven’t been feeling sick for some time now. What sort of look did I have on my face? You wondered, but accepted the cup anyways. The water was crisp and refreshing. It cleared your mind.  

There’s really no use in overthinking this, you concluded. The best thing I can do for Neuvillette is to go along with whatever he has planned for us and help keep the mood light and pleasant. I have no idea if Lady Furina is watching us or not, but one can never be sure.  

You considered for a moment what you could do, then stood up with the Kamera.   

Neuvillette’s eyes were fixed on the sea ahead. You remembered a story that Muirne, a Melusine who worked at the Palais Mermonia, told you about Neuvillette staring out at sea and causing a crowd of people to wonder if there was something going on out there. Looking at him now, you could understand how that happened. There was a magnetic intensity in his gaze that drew you to him. You had never seen that expression for yourself, though. Perhaps it was reserved for the sea.  

There were many things you didn’t know about him. He was fathomless like the ocean itself. What you saw now was only the surface. You couldn’t hope to catch even a glimpse of his depths. The thought gave you a strange restlessness.  

Just stop thinking, you told yourself firmly. Easy, casual. Remember that!  

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” you addressed him. “May I take a few pictures of you?”  

To your surprise, he readily agreed. You were under the impression that he didn’t like being photographed, considering the scarcity of his photos in the papers and his avoidance of being in public.  

“Should I pose or, ah, smile?” he asked, fiddling with his fingers. Maybe he was like you, uncomfortable with being photographed.   

“No. All you have to do is to stand and look as you usually do,” you said, even as you find yourself curious about what sorts of poses Neuvillette would make. “Just stand against the railing and look out at sea. That would be perfect.”  

As you aimed the lens at Neuvillette and looked at him through the viewfinder, it struck you then that from an outsider’s point of view, you looked like a real couple, on a real date.  

Embarrassingly, the thought made your heart flutter.  

Except it wasn’t, really. It was a sham, all for show. It was like a play, almost, performed for an invisible audience. A farce for no one except the two of you (and the Hydro Archon).   

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re happy right now, a voice whispered in your mind. How long had it been since your heart felt so light?  

You weren’t sure if that made you more pathetic or not.  

You took a deep breath, clearing your mind of these errant thoughts, and concentrated on taking pictures of Neuvillette. He really is very photogenic, you thought. Though he does a look a bit stiff. You put on what you thought was an encouraging smile to help him relax, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Whoops?  

After you were done, Neuvillette said, “I do hope the pictures will turn out well.”  

“I’m sure they will,” you said, putting the Kamera back down and flopping back down onto the bench. “There is no finer pairing than a handsome man and beautiful scenery.”  

Neuvillette made a choked noise. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Pardon me?”  

“‘There’s no finer pairing than a handsome man and beautiful scenery’?” you repeated your words, confused. Neuvillette still looked a bit stunned. You began to wonder if you had said something wrong. You meant it as an innocuous comment, but it could be taken the wrong way in the context of your relationship. Perhaps Neuvillette thought you meant something more by it. You should rectify things before a misunderstanding occurred.  

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Neuvillette beat you to the punch.  

“You…consider me handsome?”  

Now it was your turn to stare at him. “Of course I do?”  

“I-I see,” Neuvillette said in a low voice. He seemed awfully caught off guard by your words. That was strange. Surely he was used to receiving compliments on his looks? Whenever he made a rare public appearance, the papers always made sure to describe his looks in loving detail, and it was well known that he had a legion of fangirls, some of whom had even been sent to the Fortress of Meropide for their extreme behavior.  

“I mean, I consider you handsome in the same way that most Fontainians do, in an aesthetic sort of way. I don’t mean anything untoward, sir. Did you find what I said offensive?”  

“No,” Neuvillette said, then cleared his throat. He was looking at anywhere but you. You could have sworn that the tips of his ears turned red. He almost seemed embarrassed. “No, I was simply…simply surprised, that’s all.”  

“Surprised? Why?”  

“Because you…ah, never acted in a way that suggested that you did…” Neuvillette struggled to find the words to finish his sentence. Poor man, you were embarrassing him to death. “Admire my looks, so I assumed that you…did not think of me in that way.”  

You stared at him with your mouth agape, only to hastily close your mouth when you saw how flustered you were making him. So Neuvillette was aware of the effect that his looks had on people. “Wait, what about that time when I kept staring at you? That counts, right?”  

“No, it was different. It felt more as though you were trying to analyze me,” he said. He must be so used to the amorous stares of his admirers that he was able to differentiate between the different types of gazes. His brow wrinkled, as though recalling unpleasant memories. Most likely related to the more extreme side of his fans. Poor man , you thought again.  

“I see,” you nodded. “I am sorry if I caused any offence by never saying anything.”  

“It isn’t something I care a whit about,” Neuvillette said quickly. If you didn’t know him, you would have thought he was trying to convince himself. “I find the fixation on appearances quite baffling and needless, honestly.”  

“Really?” you gave him a once-over. He wasn’t wearing his usual judge’s garb, but he was still dressed much too formally for a casual outing like this. The afternoon sun gilded the edges of his white hair, which looked soft and silky to the touch. His hair care regimen must be intensive .   

“Yes, really,” he nodded. “I only put up with such standards because of the demands of my position.”  

Easy for someone as stunning as him to say, you thought, but felt no bitterness. Maybe it was because he sounded truly sincere.   

Perhaps it was that sincerity that spurred you on to say what you said next.  

“Even so, I think there’s nothing wrong with complimenting someone on their looks, especially when they look as radiant as you,” you struggled to find the right words. You were never much of a writer. “Looking at you…reminds me of the mountains near my home. I liked seeing them every day. They never fail to take my breath away.”  

A thought popped into your head. Wait, a comparison to the sea would have been more apt here. But truth be told, you didn’t have any strong connection to the sea. Mountains, on the other hand, have been the constant backdrop for your childhood, so that was why they were the first thing that popped into your mind.  

A thrill of elation shot through your heart. Back in your old ball-attending days, your family would advise you to compliment potential partners on their appearance and dress. You tried, but somehow it always seemed to not land correctly. Perhaps it was your tone or the way you spoke. With Neuvillette, you had put all your sincerity and goodwill into your words, and it seemed to have worked.   

Neuvillette had always been nothing but courteous and gentlemanly towards you. It was time that you repaid the favor.  

The loud cry of a sea bird at the front of the boat drew your attention, and you spun around, your back facing him. Elynas was just up ahead.  

As you admired the white ridges of the mountains in your jubilation, you were completely ignorant of your husband’s intense, heated gaze aimed at the back of your head and the rapidly clearing clouds.   

“Welcome to Merusea Village, Monsieur and Madame Neuvillette!”  

A high-pitched chorus greeted you at the entrance of the underwater village.  

You surveyed the crowd of Melusines before you, still reeling from the journey here and what happened on the boat. Your hand was still tingling.   

The Melusines immediately surrounded the two of you, talking over each other.   

“Your wife is so pretty, Monsieur Neuvillette!”  

“I wish you invited us to the wedding!”  

“Does this mean you’re our new mother?”  

“When are you going to have a baby?”  

The last two questions took by complete surprise. “P-Pardon me??” you spluttered.  

Neuvillette, noticing how flustered you were, cleared his throat. “Everyone, I understand that you’re all excited to meet Madame Neuvillette, but you’re overwhelming her by coming up to her all at once.”  

The Melusines looked sheepish. “Sorry, Madame,” they said in unison.  

“There’s no need to apologize,” you said, although you were still not over the whole “mother” thing (your mind had automatically blocked out the baby question. You were still trying to wrap your head around the whole “being married” thing). You knew that the Melusines saw Neuvillette as their father and that he treated them as though they were his own daughters, but you hadn’t thought about how you factored into these relationships. I mean, in that sense, I guess I’m their stepmother…?  

Having spent much time with the Melusines recently, you had begun to think of them as your little sisters.   

 A blue Melusine with brown hair stepped forward. “Monsieur Neuvillette is right, everyone,” she said in a tone that you immediately recognized to be that of a big sister. “We should all introduce ourselves to Madame one by one. I’ll go first. I’m Serene.”  

The others followed her example and introduced themselves. You tried your best to remember them all. Cosanzeana, Iara, Sedile, Virda…  

“Madame,” Sedene said. “Shall we give you a tour of the village?”  

“Yes, please do,” you said. The Melusines happily grabbed your hands and led you to the opening of the cave.  

You couldn’t help but let out a gasp as you laid eyes on the enchanting sight before you. The contrast between the gloomy and dangerous Elynas above and this cozy and adorable underwater village was incredible. You had seen pictures of the village, but they failed to completely capture its charm, from the cupcake-shaped stone houses to their bubbling chimneys. The gentle light cascading down from above bequeathed a mysterious air to the village that made your heart leap. It looked just like the fairy villages in the picture books you loved as a child.   

You wasted no time in taking pictures. The Melusines were delighted by the presence of your Kamera and asked if you could take photos of them as well, which you happily agreed to. So, the tour became a rather sluggish one as the Melusines led you around the village, taking turns to point out which house belonged to who, pointing out all the interesting spots and showing you their little knickknacks. You dutifully complied with their picture-taking requests. It was an absorbing process. You almost fancied yourself as an anthropologist, documenting the culture of an unknown civilization.  

Neuvillette seemed content to hang back and let the Melusines take over. He, like you, was also surrounded by a gaggle of the little creatures. Whenever you glanced back, he was always in the midst of patting their heads or picking them up in his arms. You could hear him inquiring about them and their eager answers.    

The party made its way past a basin. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a passageway, since it appeared to be bottomless. “This is how we go to the underwater part of the village,” a pink Melusine named Xana explained.   

You peered down. You could just make out the blurry gray shapes of houses. It reminded you of the small pool that you arrived here from. Neuvillette told you that it was a secret shortcut that not many people knew about. It certainly lived up to its status as a shortcut, since you ended up at the bottom of the water in the blink of an eye, before you could even register the fact that Neuvillette had wrapped his arms around your waist and asked you to close your eyes and hold your breath for a few seconds as he dove into the water with you.  

You felt your face turn slightly warm as you recalled the feeling of his arms around you and being pressed against his chest. He was more muscular than he looked, under all that loose-flowing fabric.   

You stole another glance at him. He was in the middle of examining Xana’s collection of shiny things that she was proudly holding out to him. Sensing your gaze, he looked up and met your eyes.  

Before you could look away, he walked up to you. “What is it, Madame?”  

“Um…” you fumbled for something to say, something that wasn’t related to Neuvillette’s strong, comforting arms or his broad chest. “I was wondering if we could go visit the underwater part of the village.”  

“Underwater?” Neuvillette repeated. The corners of his lips turned downward. “I would dearly love to, but I don’t believe you can hold your breath for that long.”  

“Oh, I see,” you felt a little disappointed, but there was nothing you could do. You’ve always had a fascination with underwater structures and ruins and the like, but it seemed that you could only see them in pictures.  

“Can you swim, Madame?” Xana asked.  

“Yes, but not very well. I can only stick to shallow water,” you said. “Monsieur Neuvillette is a very good swimmer, though. We got all the way down here in seconds. It’s like he was born for it.”  

The Melusines looked at each other and giggled, like they were sharing a secret.   

The tour made its final stop at the entrance of a conjoining cavern. You spotted a small house some distance away. “That’s where Mamere lives,” Serene pointed at it. “She’s out of the village getting materials for her paints right now, though.”  

“I was wondering where she was,” Neuvillette mused. “Is she still keeping to herself most of the time?”  

“Yeah, I told her that she needed to stay in the village since today’s a special day, but you know how it is with that kid…” Serene let out a long-suffering sigh that you emphasized with as a fellow older sister. “She does whatever she wants.”  

“Who’s Mamere?” you asked.  

It was a Melusine named Topyas who answered. “She’s a painter like you, Madame! I don’t really get her paintings, though.”  

“Yeah, what’s the word humans use again—abstract? Her paintings are very different from yours. Madame’s paintings are much easier to understand,” Xana said.  

“Oh?” That surprised you. You never thought that the drawings you did for practice for make it this far across the nation. “You’ve seen my paintings? Did the Melusines from the city show them to you?”  

“No, it was Monsieur Neuvillette. He showed them to us when he came here before.”  

“He did?” you looked at him. He nodded. You thought he looked a bit bashful.   

“I hope that is okay with you,” he said. “I wanted all the Melusines to see them.”  

“Well…um, I have no problem with it,” you looked down at your feet. It was funny. You never had much attachment to your paintings and considered them to be adequate enough to be part of your portfolio, but having them shown around like this almost made you wonder if there was something in them Neuvillette and the Melusines saw that you didn’t see. “I’m just worried that they’re too boring for your tastes. They’re just landscapes of my hometown, after all.”  

The Melusines disagreed vehemently. “But they’re so pretty. It feels like I’m right there when I’m looking at them,” Iara said, clapping her hands together.  

“I really love the sunflowers,” Cosanzeana said wistfully. “I wish I could grow them down here, but they need the sun. You’re so lucky that you get to live in a place with so many flowers.”  

“Is that so? I think you’re the lucky ones, getting to live in this beautiful village,” you gestured around. If you had the chance to live near the skeleton of a giant beast, you’d never leave. Of course, you did not say that out loud.  

“Monsieur Neuvillette also said that you’re very modest, Madame,” Serene said.   

“Oh, really?” you looked at Neuvillette again. He avoided your gaze this time. “What else did he say about me?”  

“He told us that you’re—"  

Neuvillette cleared his throat a bit too loudly. “Oh, that reminds me, we prepared a feast for you!” Serene said quickly. You could hear amusement in her voice. “Are you two hungry?”  

“I’m not,” you said.  

“Nor am I. Your sandwiches were very filling, Madame,” Neuvillette said.  

“Madame made sandwiches for you, Monsieur?” a Melusine asked.  

“She did, and they were delicious,” Neuvillette said, smiling at you. Really, this man… “I only wish she made more so we can share them with all of you.”  

The Melusines looked at you with expectant eyes. Looks like you’ve just been volunteered for more sandwich-making duties in the near future. “How about this? Why don’t you all come to Monsieur Neuvillette’s house when the sunflowers are in full bloom? I’ll make plenty of sandwiches for all of you then. And Monsieur Neuvillette can entertain all of you while you’re there,” you gave him your sweetest smile. “If it’s okay with you, of course.”  

Neuvillette looked a bit dazed as he stared at your face. Perhaps you had gone a bit too far. There were a lot of Melusines here, after all. But then he blinked and shook his head slightly, like he was awakened from a trance. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We’ll send the invitations here when the time comes.”  

Overjoyed by the invitation, the Melusines quickly began to chat amongst themselves over what to wear and what to bring. As it was still mid-afternoon and neither you nor Neuvillette were hungry yet, it was decided that you would spend your time leisurely until evening arrived.   

So for the next few hours, you played and chatted with the Melusines. You had expected them to ask you endless questions about your marriage, but they didn’t. Perhaps Neuvillette had told them something beforehand, saving you the trouble of coming up with answers. Playing with the Melusines brought back fun memories of your days assisting at the schoolhouse back home. For some reason, they were infinitely fascinated by your life and hometown up above. You told them about the fields of wildflowers, the majestic mountains you played in when you were a child, and even a bit about your life in the city. They stroked their mitten-like hands along the fabric of your skirt and exclaimed over it like it was made of spun gold. They admired the flower in your hair and squealed over the fact that Neuvillette had a matching one in his hair.   

Up until now, you had always considered your life to be drab and hopeless. It wasn’t even tragic, just lackluster. At home, you were overlooked in favor of your sister, and in high society, you were invisible. It wasn’t lost on you that your life could be much worse. However, as destined as you were for a life of quiet spinsterhood, it could still be amended. You could still have shreds of your childhood aspirations, molded into adult reality.  

That was why you adopted an attitude of always looking forward and never dwelling on the past for too long. Staying too long in one spot would only trap you there forever. You’ve read all sorts of stories about old gods and heroes who met their downfall by clinging too much to the past. You were nowhere near their level, of course, but your old art teacher told you that all the most valuable lessons were learned from history, and you trusted her with all your heart.  

But being with the Melusines—being with Neuvillette—was starting to make you see the color in your black-and-white life. You were beginning to see that there was something beyond the constrained life you were born into and destined for.   

Don’t lose sight of your goal. Don’t forget who you are. The little voice in your head warned you. Thinking of your future plans always managed to clear your heart and refresh your mind. But now, it sounded strangely muffled compared to before.  

Speaking of Neuvillette, you looked around for him. Currently, you were resting on a bench. He had wanted to stay with you, but you encouraged him to play with the Melusines. This was one of his rare visits, after all. You spotted him with some Melusines by the waterfall. Laume—the Melusine who wanted to be a journalist, if you remembered correctly—was holding the Kamera and instructing him to pose. You watched as he placed his hand on his hip and held up his hand in a peace sign. He really does indulge them. You knew that he had a soft, paternal side he showed only to the Melusines, but having it displayed before you like this was something else.  

More Melusines came up to him, wanting to take pictures with him. He patted their heads with a fond smile. A lucky few even got the chance to ride on his shoulders. His affection for the Melusines was evident in his every expression and gesture. And it was clear that the Melusines reciprocated that love just as much.  

“I hope you aren’t too tired out by the kids,” Serene said, sitting next to you. “They can be a handful.”  

“It’s all right, I’ve done this kind of thing before,” you waved your hand. “I’m more worried about you. Shouldn’t you be playing with Monsieur Neuvillette like the others instead of running around taking care of everyone?”  

You’ve learned that Serene was indeed the big sister of the Melusines here, the one who looked after everyone and sent reports to Neuvillette about the goings-on of the village. She really was a big sister.  

“That’s my job, after all. I’ve got to take it seriously, just like how Monsieur Neuvillette always takes his job seriously,” Serene said matter-of-factly, but you could hear the admiration in her voice.   

“But it’s good to take breaks sometimes. Even Monsieur Neuvillette does, like today.”  

“Today…” Serene mused. Then she smiled. “You know, Madame, when we learned that he was bringing you with him to the village, we were so happy. We thought, ‘Finally, Monsieur Neuvillette has someone by his side.’”  

“Someone by his side?” you repeated. “But he has all of you, doesn’t he?”  

But even as you say it, you thought that you understood what Serene meant. You had the same thoughts before.   

“What I mean is, someone who can share his worries and burdens. Someone he can be himself with. I don’t know much about how human marriages work, but I think that’s what it’s supposed to be, right? I’m so happy that Monsieur Neuvillette has finally found someone like that. You must be really special.”   

You looked away from the Melusine, biting your lip. Serene didn’t know the circumstances surrounding this marriage, of course. She didn’t know that it was based on pity and self-interest. She didn’t know that you and him were simply wading in shallow water, never intending to go deeper than that. She didn’t know that even for this trip, it was an obligation handed down to him by the Archon, not something he did because he wanted to, or that there was something he was refusing to tell you for reasons you didn’t understand.  

You didn’t say any of this out loud. Instead, you forced a smile. “I’m really not all that special,” you said.  

“But Monsieur Neuvillette thinks you are, Madame! You should have heard how he talked about you. And his face! I’ve never seen him look like that before.”  

“What did he say about me?” you asked, curious. You couldn’t imagine it.  

“Oh…I shouldn’t. I don’t want to embarrass him,” Serene giggled. “But trust me, they were all good things. And he was right, you’re as wonderful and lovely as he described!”  

Wonderful and lovely? Those were two words that better described your sister, not you. You almost wondered if Neuvillette had been talking about someone else.  

Just then, a Melusine ran up to you. “Madame! Come take a picture with us!”  

“Okay, I’m coming,” you answered, then took Serene’s hand. “Come on, let’s go take some pictures.”  

The crowd of Melusines immediately made room for you to stand next to Neuvillette. You glanced up at him. Despite having to keep up with the Melusines’ seemingly boundless energy for so long, he didn’t look the slightest bit fatigued.     

“Are you feeling more rested, Madame?” he whispered as you positioned yourself next to him. “Hungry yet?”  

“Yes to the first question, and no, I’m not hungry yet,” you whispered back. “Are you?”  

“I also am not hungry,” he answered. There was a short pause before he asked another question. “…Are you enjoying yourself?”  

“Of course I am,” you said in surprise, for he sounded genuinely troubled. “Why do you ask?”  

“It is just that…” Neuvillette trailed off, as though searching for the right words. “I couldn’t help but notice that you had a rather grave expression on your face when you were chatting with Serene.”  

He could see your expression from all the way over here? You looked at the other side of the village, where the bench you had been sitting. His eyesight must be incredible.   

“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” you said airily. “We were just chatting. And that’s how my face always looks. But why were you looking over at us, anyways, when you have all these charming young ladies around you?”  

One of the Melusines in front of you giggled and turned around. “That’s because he was feeling lonely without you, Madame!” she chirped.   

“Yeah, that’s why he keeps looking in your direction!” Another Melusine chimed in.   

“Is that true, Monsieur Neuvillette?” you looked back at him. His face was kept carefully smooth and expressionless, but you could see spots of color in his cheeks. “Can you really not bear a single minute away from me?”  

“I…” Neuvillette looked as though he wanted to take off and leave right there and then. But he ended up being saved from having to come up with an answer by Laume.  

“Okay, everyone! I finally figured out how to use the timer!” she announced. “Now, we can all take a group picture together!”  

Wow, I didn’t know Kameras from back then had timers, you thought as Laume directed the Melusines to cluster together as closely as possible so that they could all be captured by the Kamera’s lens. You and Neuvillette eventually ended up in a position where you were basically pressed against each other.  

“Madame,” you heard him whisper into your ear. Despite this not even being the first time, your heart never failed to beat just a little faster. “May I put my arm around you?”  

You looked up at him. His lilac eyes bored into your own, exerting an invisible force. You nodded, and he wrapped his arm around your waist, his hand resting just above your hip. You could feel the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric and into your skin. The weight of it made you feel twitchy and lightheaded. It felt like every nerve in your body was concentrated there in that one spot.  

“Get ready, everyone! The Kamera’s about to go off in five seconds! Smile!” Laume shouted. She proceeded to run back to the crowd. Just then, you felt him tighten his grip imperceptibly, drawing you towards him. Your head brushed against his shoulder.  

The Kamera flashed, capturing this moment in time forever. With that, the crowd dispersed, and Neuvillette let go of your waist. You could still feel the shadow of his touch. You stared after him, wanting to say something, but didn’t know what.    

A pink Melusine called out to him. “Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, could we please play with your hair now?”  

“Why, certainly,” Neuvillette said. The Melusines cheered.  

“Madame, have you ever played with Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair before?” one of them asked.  

“I haven’t,” you said, causing them to gasp in surprise.    

They insisted that you be granted the honor of touching Neuvillette’s hair first, despite your protestations. As for the man in question, he had no problem with it, although his mind seemed to be somewhere else. And so was yours, for that matter. You just couldn’t figure him out, and it bothered you greatly. Were friendships supposed to be this complicated? You thought that once you and Neuvillette agreed to be friends, things would be so much easier between the two of you now. In some ways, it was, but it also wasn’t, as it was in this case.   

Why am I feeling so strangely about this? You wondered to yourself. He just put his arm around me, that’s all. Why, just today, he carried me in his arms when we came down here and kissed the back of my hand because I complimented him (an overreaction, but I can understand the logic behind it). And I did run into his arms and cling to him (only because I was startled by the vishap)…I suppose the difference is that I can’t think of any conceivable reason that he would put his arm around me back there.  

Stop overthinking, you told yourself once again. It’ll just give you a headache. Remember, easy and casual!  

“Madame…Madame!” High-pitched voices pierced through your thoughts. Before you knew it, you were sitting on the stone bench again. Neuvillette was perched on the end, his back facing you. The ends of his tied hair were resting on the stone surface. His pure white locks reminded you of untrodden snow, too pristine to touch. You uneasily wondered if you should wash your hands first.  

“I brought the hair things!” Cosanzeana announced, bringing over a box. It contained combs, brushes, ribbons, and various other hair ornaments. It seemed that this was a favorite activity of the Melusines. Neuvillette was evidently used to it as well, for he was sitting quietly with his back erect and his hands clasped in his lap.  

It was somewhat unnerving to have an audience of bright, inhuman eyes watch you, but you got on with it. You slowly undid the black ribbon at the end of his hair and placed it by your side, then leaned forward to remove the feathered hairclip and Lamplight Lily tucked near his temple. You tried your best not to touch his skin, but he probably didn’t feel it.  

His hair was even more stunning unbound. You couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through the silky strands. You couldn’t lie to yourself—there were times when you were tempted to touch his beautiful hair, and now one of your secret dreams had come true.   

“Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair is so lovely, isn’t it?” Serene said, beaming.  

“It sure is,” you said. His hair had an awful tendency to get tangled and snagged in the smallest cracks and crevices, so you’ve always wondered why he didn’t cut it short for practicality’s sake. But honestly, if you had his hair, you would let it grow freely and run through the forest like a woodland creature, feeling your hair stream in the wind behind you. “I hope he never cuts it. It would be a tragedy for Fontaine when that happens.”  

Your comment caused a horrified gasp to rise from the Melusines. “Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, promise us that you’ll keep your hair as it is!” a few of them pleaded.  

“I will not,” he assured them. “I prefer my hair the way it is as well.”  

“They should pass a law that forbids scissors from being within three meters of Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair,” you said as you began to run the seashell comb through his hair.   

“An interesting idea, though frivolous,” Neuvillette said. “I hardly think an edict like that would be much accepted among the people.”  

“I think you’d be surprised at how many people are invested in your hair,” you said as you worked through a knot, trying to be as gentle as you could. You were thinking about an old classmate of yours who was obsessed with Neuvillette’s “luscious, pearlescent locks of moonlight” (the girl who coined that phrase would go on to write for the Steambird) and wondered what she would say if she saw you now.  “And I don’t see how this law is any more frivolous than not being allowed to place fruit tarts on unheated trays or put unfinished Fonta in the middle of the road.”  

“You’ve been reading up on the laws of Fontaine, Madame?” Neuvillette sounded genuinely surprised. “You never shown much interest in judicial affairs.”   

“I am your wife, after all,” you said. And there’s not much else besides legal codices to read in your house, you added silently. A trip to the library was due. “It’s perfectly normal for a wife to take a little interest in her husband’s work, isn’t it? Some of it is actually quite interesting.”  

You weren’t sure how much the Melusines knew about the truth of your marriage, but you thought you should at least put on the façade. Neuvillette didn’t say anything in response.   

You tried to be as gentle as you could as you untangled the knots and snarls. Inwardly, you marvelled at how healthy and well-maintained his hair was. What is his haircare regimen? You once again wondered as you idly twirled a lock around your index finger. It even smelled nice. You had the urge to bury your face in his hair. I bet he’s the type who only uses soap to wash his hair. It must be a pain to brush it in the morning, though.     

The long, blue ornaments were getting in the way. You grabbed them at the ends and pressed them down, but they bounced back up. Thinking that you should take them out, you looked for the place where they were clipped into his hair, only to find to your amazement that they were attached to his head.  

You rubbed the ornaments between your fingers. They didn’t feel like they were made of synthetic materials. Were they…?  

You heard a low grunt. “M-Madame…w-what are you doing?” Neuvillette sounded different. His voice was breathy, strained-sounding. Did you pull on his hair too hard?   

“I wanted to move these blue hair ornaments, but…these aren’t ornaments, are they?”  

“They are not.”  

“Are they antennae, then? Or feelers?”   

There was a brief silence. “They are horns ,” Neuvillette said at last. He sounded offended.  

“Oh…” you looked at them again. What sort of creature would have such floppy horns, you thought, remembering how they fluttered about in the wind. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”  

“You’ve never asked.”   

“I see,” you said. “I’m sorry if I caused you pain.”  

“You did not. It’s just that my horns are very…sensitive to touch, so please tell me beforehand if you are going to touch them.”  

“Oh…okay,” You didn’t know what else to say. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go this way, and you were very glad that Neuvillette couldn’t see your face right now.  

“Madame’s face is red!” a Melusine yelled. You turned and found a crowd of wide eyes flitting between you and Neuvillette.  

You cleared your throat. “Who wants to help me braid Monsieur Neuvillette’s hair?” you said in an overly cheerful voice.  

“Ooh, me, me!” the Melusines pressed forward eagerly. You inwardly let out a sigh of relief for diffusing the awkward situation, completely failing to notice the rosy flush that appeared on Neuvillette’s pale cheeks and the tensing of his neck.  

With Neuvillette’s hair as the medium, you demonstrated various hairstyles—braids, ponytails, twin tails, and so on. It brought back fond memories of doing your sister’s hair. The Melusines happily helped with gathering flowers and ribbons to adorn Neuvillette’s hair. Much fun was had, and many pictures were taken. Neuvillette remained admirably composed upon seeing the monstrosities done to his hair in the mirror, but fortunately for him, no one else would ever see these sights.  

Eventually, you felt hungry, and it was decided that dinner would be served shortly. As you were letting down Neuvillette’s hair, Topyas asked you a question. “Madame, why don’t you call Monsieur Neuvillette by just his name?”  

“Well…” you had to think about it. Neuvillette, who had been shifting slightly, stilled. “It just feels a bit odd to not call him by his title. He’s such a great, accomplished man after all.”  

“But aren’t you two married? I thought married couples call each other by their nicknames.”  

“Everyone’s different,” you said, brushing Neuvillette’s hair. “Monsieur Neuvillette has always been Monsieur Neuvillette to me. He never calls me by my name either.”  

“Huh, now that I think about it…” Topyas said, putting her hand on her chin. “That does make sense. It does feel a bit too formal, though.”  

“Madame can call me whatever she feels most comfortable with,” Neuvillette said. “As I do with her.”  

You tied the black ribbon to the end of his hair and returned the hair accessories to their original positions. You felt a complicated mix of emotions swirling within you.  

Melusine cuisine was not what you expected. When the dishes were first served to you, you wondered if you were being poisoned. The meat was green and purple, and the dead eyes of the fish sticking out of the pie—it was called Poissonchant Pie, if you remembered correctly—briefly made you consider swearing off fish and pies for the rest of your life. And the scent was...stimulating, to say the least. Was this even edible , you wondered. You looked over at Neuvillette to see what he was going to eat.  

“Why, this all looks delicious,” he said, surveying the dishes and smiling at the expectant crowd. “Thank you all for this wonderful meal.”  

“Um...yes. Thank you, everyone,” you said.  

Then, he elegantly brought a forkful of meat to his mouth, his eyes closed. In pleasure or resignation, you couldn’t tell. It didn’t seem to have any ill effects on him, but then again, he was not human, so it stood to reason that he had a stronger stomach than you.   

Unfortunately, the sandwiches were all finished, and the Melusines were looking at you with their expectant bright eyes. You steeled yourself (and your stomach) and took a bite out of the oddly colored meat. Well, if I do get violently sick, at least Neuvillette is here. He can take me to the best doctors.   

You forced yourself to chew and swallow. Surprisingly, the meat didn’t taste spoiled. In fact, it was quite good. You took another bite.  

“Do you like my food, Madame?” the chef, Lutine, asked.  

“Yes. It’s very good. You’re an excellent cook,” you said.   

“Oh, I’m so happy to hear that!” she said with a sigh of relief. “Humans are put off by our dishes because of their appearances, so most of them don’t know how delicious our food actually is!”  

“They’re definitely missing out,” you assured her, then sampled the pie. It was also very good, despite the eerie feeling that the fish were about to break into song. “There’s a lot of food here, though. I hope I can finish it all.”  

“Monsieur Neuvillette only visits us here a few times a year, including his birthday,” Lutine explained. “So I make as many dishes as I could whenever he comes, so he can taste them all.”  

“He only visits you a few times a year?” you repeated incredulously, looking at him. “Is he so busy?”  

“Yes, he is. He almost never takes vacations,” it was Sedile, a Marechausee Phantom agent, who answered this time. “But now that he has you, Madame, maybe you can convince him to rest more.”  

“Maybe,” you said vaguely, but you doubted you had that much influence on him. Next to you, Neuvillette continued to eat, not saying anything.  

After the meal, you decided to take a private stroll in the side cavern where Mamere’s house was located. Neuvillette was being detained by the Melusines, so you slipped out when they weren’t looking.  

Watching him and the Melusines made you feel a mix of emotions. It was gladdening to see him being surrounded by creatures who adored him so openly and unconditionally, but it also made you feel a bit lonely, like you were a star orbiting a sun on the outskirts of its gravitational field. He was much more relaxed with them as well, compared to when he was with you. It was almost as though you were seeing his real self.  

It’s only natural, you thought to yourself. He and the Melusines have a long history together, and you’re just an outsider he didn’t even know existed until a few months ago. Besides, it’s hard to be so serious and formal with them.   

There was no point in feeling gloomy. The sights here were far more interesting. You didn't have the Kamera with you, but that didn’t matter. You took enough pictures for one day. You just wanted to be alone with your thoughts and get some respite from all the bustle.   

“Madame,” Neuvillette chose that moment to join you. “My apologies for leaving you all alone. But you mustn’t go off on your own like this. You can easily get lost in these caverns.”  

“Don't worry about me,” you said. “I’ll stay close to the village. Please, feel free to go be with the Melusines. You’re their father, after all. I’ll join you later.”  

“But we are on a date. It's highly ill-mannered of me to leave you alone.”  

"Oh, Monsieur Neuvillette, there’s no need to keep up this pretense of a date. I do appreciate everything you’re doing and how seriously you’re taking this, but you should be concerned about your own relaxation more. You don’t visit Merusea Village as often as you would like, do you? You should make the most of your time here before we go back. I’ll be fine on my own. I’m used to it.”  

You thought you sounded dependable and logical, but the look in Neuvillette’s eyes spoke otherwise. They were filled with alarm. His mouth moved, as though he wanted to say something, but no words came out. It was then that you knew that you had definitely said something wrong.  

But before you could say anything, Neuvillette seemed to have finally found his words. “...Have I done something wrong?” His voice was a low whisper, but every word was transmitted to your ears clearly. It raised the hair on the back of your neck.  

“W-What do you mean?” you frowned. “Of course not. You’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to me today.”  

“What is it, then? Is this place not to your liking? Do you wish to go home now?” He took a step towards you, and you reflexively backed up. Neuvillette was looking down at you, his eyes piercing into your own. It didn’t strike you until then just how tall he was, and how intimidating he could be when he wanted to. Is this what criminals see? You thought even as your heartbeat hammered in your ears.  

“No, not at all. I love this place and everyone here!” you shook your head vigorously. “I wish we could stay longer.”   

“Then why are you pushing me away?” The usual silkiness in his voice was gone, replaced by something rougher and unfamiliar. You felt your heart beginning to beat quickly, your hands becoming slick with sweat. He took another step towards you. You stepped backwards once again and found yourself backed up against a pink wall.  

“I-I’m not pushing you away! It’s just that I need a little bit of alone time to recover my energy after socializing with so many people, and there is no need for you to stick with me. It has nothing to do with you and the Melusines, and everything to do with me. I’m sure you understand that, don’t you, sir?”  

“I do,” he said. “Indeed, I understand. But what I don’t understand is your insistence on there being no ‘need’ for me to stay by your side. If you ask it of me, I would be happy to accompany you in silence.”  

“But I would not be,” you said. “Like I said before, this isn’t a real date, and we...aren’t a real couple. You don’t have to always be with me, especially since you don’t take a lot of personal holidays. I would rather you spend the free time you have with someone who isn’t as boring as me.”  

You stated the last part matter-of-factly. It was simply the truth.  

However, it seemed to have been the wrong thing to say.  

Neuvillette stepped even closer to you. He bent down, his face so close to yours that your noses were practically touching.  

“…Did Furina approach you?” he said, his voice as low as the bottom of the sea.  

You stared at him blankly for a moment. Why was he bringing up Furina all of a sudden?   

“She hasn’t,” you said after a pause.  

Neuvillette’s intense gaze roved your face, as though to search for any signs of lying. You did your best to stare back at him. At last, he let out a breath and nodded slowly.   

“Now,” you gritted out, putting all the force you could muster in your voice. “Could you please step away from me?”  

At last, he seemed to realize that he was practically pinning you against the wall and quickly stepped back. A look of shame flashed across his face.  

“My apologies,” he said at last. “I did not know what came over me.”  

“Me neither,” you said curtly. “It’s very unlike you. Why did you ask me if Lady Furina approached me, anyways?”  

Neuvillette did not answer, though you saw his jaw tense. His gaze flitted away from you. He seemed to have said something he shouldn’t have.   

You pondered over it all. His question, his behavior over this past week, his fixation on being boring...it all clicked into place.  

“Oh, it all makes sense now,” you said. Neuvillette’s face snapped back to yours. “Lady Furina called me boring and dull, didn’t she?”  

Neuvillette’s silence was all the confirmation you needed.  

“Is that all she said about me?”  

“...Yes.”   

“I see,” you nodded. It all made sense now. How ridiculous this whole situation was. It felt like a heavy load had been lightened. “So it was nothing, really.”  

“You’re not offended?” Neuvillette looked so confused that you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. He flinched.  

“Why would I be offended by the truth? It’s impressive how she was able to figure out my personality despite never meeting me. I suppose that’s to be expected of an Archon.”  

“It is not true at all. She has no right to falsely disparage someone she has never met. You have every right to be angry. I will ask her to apologize to you.”  

“There’s no need to go that far,” you exclaimed in shock. Furina was his superior, so you didn’t want to be the cause of conflict between the two of them, even though you doubted she would ever fire him. “Look, Monsieur Neuvillette, I know I’m not a very interesting person. Lady Furina isn’t the first person to call me boring. Plenty of others have before her as well. I’m used to it. It’s not the worst thing in the world, you know, to be called that. And—”  

You broke off your sentence there, upon seeing the expression on his face. There was a deep furrow between his brows, and his jaw was clenched tightly. He looked...angry.  

“Others have insulted you as well?” he said slowly. You found yourself suddenly fearing for the lives of those young ladies and gentlemen from so long ago.   

“Well, I-I wouldn’t call it being insulted, e-exactly,” you stammered. Neuvillette’s eyes seemed to pin you in place. Grabbing onto whatever came to mind and vocalizing it was the only way to break the spell. “I-It’s just that my interests and hobbies aren’t what you call ‘in vogue,’ and you know, at balls, what most people want to talk about is the latest gossip and plays and fashion and things like that, all of which I’m woefully ignorant about. And, you know, I’m not beautiful, witty, or fashionable enough to make up for that, so really, it’s only natural for people to find me uninteresting. I don’t have much to offer.”  

Oh, how wonderful. You hadn’t expected that your date would end up with you unearthing all your long-buried insecurities. A feeling of despair welled up within you. So much for maintaining a pleasant atmosphere. Of course, you would be the one to ruin this day.  

“I don’t care anymore, though,” you hurriedly added, trying to salvage this in any way you could. “It’s all in the past now, when I was a teenager. In fact, I think having a plain personality is a benefit for the line of work I’ve chosen, so it all works out in the end. Like I said before, sir, being boring isn’t a crime and—”  

“But you were hurt before,” Neuvillette interrupted. His eyes reminded you of rippling pools of water. You wanted to run away, but it was as though your legs had turned into stone. “And you are still hurt.”  

“No, I told you, I’m completely over it! It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s nothing but petty teenage angst.”  

“If you are over it, as you say, then why are you fixated on the idea that I would be bored with you. Even if it is in the past, it still occurred, and you continue to be affected by it. You have every right to be angry, to hold a grudge against those people.”  

Now you recognized that additional emotion in his eyes. It was sadness. His eyes were rippling with unshed tears, and his lips were pressed tightly together.   

He looked like he was about to cry.  

You were utterly baffled. Why did he seem more upset than you about this? You had told him the truth. Those feelings of sadness, inferiority, and self-loathing were buried deep inside you long ago. You had made sure of it. Compared to the teenaged you from so long ago, you now felt lighter, as free as a bird.  

“I...I don’t understand,” you whispered. Your voice came out a rasp. “Why do you care so much, sir? I’m sure you’ve seen people who suffered far worse than me."  

“Why would I not care?” Neuvillette said. He placed his large, gloved hands on your shoulders. The gentle but firm weight of them made something within you unfurl. “You are someone dear to me. I cannot forgive anyone who has hurt you, even if they are the Archon herself. It does not matter how minor a slight it may be. Your feelings should be valued as much as anyone else’s. And...it pains me deeply when I hear you talk about yourself in such a way, that you believe them.”  

Long buried memories resurrected themselves and flashed through your mind.   

Of disinterested eyes sizing you up, then passing over you like you weren’t even there, landing on girls much more beautiful, girls you could never hope to be.  

Of barely concealed bored looks, looking past you to someone much more interesting.  

Of incredulous sneers and raised eyebrows upon hearing of your interest in pressing flowers and Remurian history, and quick switches to far worldlier topics, like overseas vacations or the latest plays at the Opera Epiclese. Conversations you couldn’t even hope to partake in, because you came from a family that could only afford to go to the opera house once a year. You didn’t even have the confidence to bluff your way through these things.  

Balls, you had quickly learned, were like plays. You were either in a starring role, or you were a background actor without even a name.  

It wasn’t as though anyone had ever publicly humiliated you or ganged up on you like something out of a cheap romance novel. You were too insignificant for that.   

Eventually, you had learned to endure these little jabs, hardening your mind and heart. You were a poor baron’s daughter, someone with very little standing in the grand scheme of things. You couldn’t afford to offend your betters, anyways. There was nothing you could do except to shrug it off, to polish and improve yourself, and to make yourself worthy of being seen and chosen. Your parents had told you so as well. You couldn’t--shouldn’t--rely on them in such matters. They had their hands tied as well.  

The only one you could rely on was yourself. If no one else was there to pick up the pieces, then you would have to be the one to do it. That was a philosophy you had lived by, and it worked out for you so far.  

But now...  

You stared at the distraught man in front of you. A man with too much empathy for someone who didn’t deserve it, especially compared to those who had gone through actual suffering.  

You wanted to push him away again, to reassure him that there was nothing to be sad about, that it was wasted on you. You wanted to tell him to go be with someone happier, more cheerful, and to leave you be in your misery until you could recover yourself once more and go back to him with a smile.  

But then you remembered that young girl crying into her pillow after a particularly difficult ball where she didn’t get asked to dance even once. The herbarium (as you had insisted on calling it) that you diligently maintained since you were a child, thrown away in the trash.   

Even boring, dull girls had feelings to hurt.   

You stepped towards him and wrapped your arms tightly around his waist, burrowing your face into his jacket.  

“Madame...?” you heard his stunned voice above your head. But his arms wrapped around you tightly, bringing you deeper into his embrace. Hot tears prickled the back of your eyelids, but you let them flow. You could pay for his dry cleaning later.  

“Thank you,” you mumbled into his clothes, then raised your head to look straight into his eyes. “Neuvillette. For always thinking of my feelings, far more than I do myself. It makes me...very happy.”  

You really were a terrible friend. You thought you were putting him at ease by maintaining a respectable distance between the two of you, by dismissing his worries. But that had the opposite effect.  

He coddled you, something you hated, but maybe it was okay to sink and give in sometimes.  

“There is no need to thank me,” Neuvillette said. “I am only doing what I ought to do.”  

“I know. And that’s what I love about you.”  

Neuvillette’s eyes widened. You made no explanation for your words. He placed his hand on the back of your head and gently stroked it. You closed your eyes, wanting to engrave this warmth into your memories.  

Suddenly, you heard gasps and giggles coming from the cavern’s entrance. Both you and Neuvillette whipped your heads in that direction. Small, colorful heads squealed and quickly hid behind a rock.   

“It looks like we got an audience,” you said.   

“Indeed. How troublesome,” Neuvillette said. Neither of you let go of each other.  

One little Melusine poked her head out from the rock. “Kiss!” she shouted.  

Several of her sisters joined her. “Monsieur Neuvillette, kiss her!”  

The two of you looked at each other. Neuvillette’s face was a mixture of awkwardness, embarrassment, and affection. Your face mirrored his, you were sure.  

"Neuvillette, can you bend down for me?” you whispered, then changed your mind and stood up on your tiptoes, then pressed your lips against his smooth, marble cheek. But unlike marble, it was soft and warm.  

You heard a sharp inhalation from Neuvillette, which was quickly followed by a chorus of high-pitched squeals and cheers.  

As you watched Neuvillette’s cheeks turn red and felt your own burn, you couldn’t help but think that Furina had been on the right track with this whole marriage business, even if you disagreed with the way she went about it.  

Neuvillette deserved to have someone who loved him wholeheartedly and without hesitation. Someone who can serve as a comforting shelter for him, just like he did for you.  

“Do you really have to leave so soon?”  

You and Neuvillette were standing at the entrance to Merusea Village once more. The Melusines were gathered there to see you off.  

“It is almost dusk. I must bring Madame home before it gets dark,” Neuvillette told them. The Melusines let out “Awws” of disappointment.   

“I had a wonderful time with all of you. I’ll never forget it,” you assured them, patting your purse. As a parting gift, they had given you a heap of shiny components, which you gratefully accepted, although you wondered where you were going to put it all.  

“Thank you all for being such good hosts for us,” Neuvillette said, patting their heads. You did the same.  

As you looked at the rows of smiling faces, you thought that those who were loved by Neuvillette were the luckiest people in the world.  

“Madame, when you visit us for Monsieur Neuvillette’s birthday, I’ll play a song I composed for you!” Topyas said.  

“Neuvillette's birthday?” you repeated quizzically.  

“That’s right! He visits us every year on his birthday. Lutine bakes a really tasty cake for him, too. You will come with him as well, right?”  

Neuvillette’s birthday was at the end of the year, if you remembered correctly. Would you even be married to him by then?  

But faced with such a shining, hopeful visage, you could do nothing except smile and nod.  

“Madame, we’re above water now.”  

Neuvillette said into your ear. He watched as your eyes opened slowly, the fluttering of your eyelashes reminding him of a butterfly’s wings. You let out your held breath, which caused the strands of his hair to flutter. His arm was under your knees, and your arms were circled around his neck. Your head was resting on his shoulder. A small part of him wished he delayed in telling you that you had emerged from the water.  

He carefully set you down on the ground, steadying you by holding your elbow. You smiled up at him gratefully, then turned your head to the scenery in front of you.  

“Oh, did it rain?” you looked around. Indeed, there were shallow puddles on the dirt path that led to this pool, and the grass was glistening with water droplets. The air had that pure, refreshing quality of a passed storm. “It’s good that we missed it.”  

Neuvillette could only nod. There was something different here. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.   

“Shall we head back to the boat now? Oh, I hope it hasn’t gotten too drenched by the rain.”  

The two of you began to walk back to the beach. Neuvillette offered his elbow to you, worried that you might slip on the wet, muddy ground, and you linked your arm through it, thanking him. As you strolled down the path, your arms brushing against each other, it hit him, suddenly, what was different.  

The small space that you maintained between you and him had disappeared.  

The sky was painted in hues of orange and pink. Little birds chirped in the trees. As you neared the beach, Neuvillette saw ships of all sizes, either sailing back to Fontaine or setting off to distant harbors.  

Neither of you spoke much. Neuvillette was reminded of the calm and quiet after a storm, when everything was newly refreshed and washed clean.   

The tension he had sensed from you ever since he met you remained, but it seemed to have been chipped away a little bit. He still wasn’t sure what happened, but he was glad of it.   

All he knew was that he was a terrible judge of character.  

He had assumed that being a quiet, mild-mannered woman, he wouldn’t have the issue of having to deal with being overwhelmed by extreme emotions, but he was wrong.  

When he was with you, every emotion within him, from joy to sadness to anger, seemed magnified tenfold.  

The boat was there, right where he had docked it. Neuvillette did not have many chances to go boating, and he always preferred to swim anyways. However, recalling how your hair blew in the wind and how your eyes sparkled as you gazed out at sea, he was beginning to see its charms.  

“What a beautiful sunset!” he heard you exclaim. The orange sun was near the horizon, gilding the waves gold.   

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at the sight. Had a sunset ever been this mesmerizing before?  

“Neuvillette, let’s take a picture together with the sunset in the background. We never took a picture of just us together, have we?” you turned to him suddenly.  

For a moment, Neuvillette didn’t register your words. His mind was too preoccupied with the sunset, trying to figure out what made this one so different from the thousands he viewed before. And then, it struck him lightning.  

"You’re...calling my name without my title now.” That was the first thing that came out of his mouth. He inwardly cringed at his forwardness.   

“Um...yes,” you said, looking a little bashful. “To be honest, it is a little silly of me to keep calling you Monsieur for so long, since we’re friends. Do you hate it?”  

“No, not at all,” he shook his head vigorously. Hearing you call him by simply his name, even if it wasn’t his real name, sparked something in him. He felt like he was hearing his name for the first time when it came from your lips. “And yes, let us take a picture together.”  

You fiddled with the Kamera and walked around to get the right position and to figure out the timer function. Once that was done, you ran back to him, having placed the device on a nearby tree stump. There was five seconds before the Kamera would go off. Before this moment would be captured forever.  

“May I put my arm around your shoulders, Madame?” he asked. It felt wrong to just stand side by side.   

“Yes,” you nodded, and just as he did so, the Kamera’s flash went off.  

I hope I had a good expression on my face, he thought. Smiling on command was not an ability he possessed.   

“Shall we go now?” you said after you retrieved the Kamera. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”  

“Wait, there is one more thing I need,” he said. It was something he had been waiting for all day.  

“What is it?” You looked up at him.  

“Madame, do you remember how you said that you will give me feedback for the date? Would you allow me to receive it now?”  

“Feedback?” you repeated, your expression incredulous. “Wait, you actually want it?”  

“Yes, of course I do,” he said. “Your opinion means a great deal to me.”  

“If that's the case...” you tilted your head slightly, frowning. “I must admit that I have very little experience with dates and other romantic things of that nature. I’m not sure if my opinion would be very valuable.”  

“It does not matter. I want to know what you think.”  

"Alright then, if you insist,” you cleared your throat dramatically. Neuvillette leaned forward a little unconsciously. “In all my days of existence, I have never enjoyed myself more than today. If I were to suddenly drop dead right now, then at least I’m dying happy.”  

“Surely you exaggerate.” Neuvillette was never quite able to grasp your sense of humor.  

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, letting out a small laugh. There was something bright in it that made his heart beat just a little faster. “It’s definitely in my top ten, though. After all, I was able to go to places I’ve never been before, meet new people, and experience new things. And best of all, I had a delightful companion by my side. What more can I ask for?”  

“You truly think I’m a delightful companion?” It was rare for anyone to describe him that way.  

“I do,” you said, conviction in your voice. “Better than I deserve, really.”  

Neuvillette looked at you, taking you in. He felt a small amount of guilt upon hearing your words.   

Truthfully, he had chosen the locations for today’s outing—the Weeping Willow of Erinnyes and Merusea Village—not only because he wished to take you to his favorite places.   

He was driven by a selfish, vain desire to show himself in the best light to you by taking you to the places where he was most comfortable.  

Entertaining guests was not his strong suit. Taking a young lady out on a date was even less so. He lacked ideas as to where to take you, so he defaulted to these remote locations, far from the human world that he had little interest in.  

But as he looked at your content face, he felt something like a chasm within him. It was ever-widening, an inexplicable need to be filled.   

Self-indulgence was dangerous. He was well-aware of that. It would be difficult to escape such a trap, no matter how sweetly it beckoned.   

Perhaps his time in the human world had weakened his resolve.  

“Let me take you to a restaurant next time,” the words came out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying. “I am no expert on cuisine, but...”  

“I’ll choose for us, then,” you said. “There are a few places I’ve been dying to try out.”  

Neuvillette nodded. He silently pledged to savor whatever was served to him, no matter how dry it may be.  

He reached out his hand to help you onto the boat, but you didn’t take it. Instead, you asked him a question.  

“Did you have a good time today, Neuvillette?”  

He was startled. “Why do you ask?”  

“Because this is a date. It’s a collaboration between two people. It's not a good date if only one of us enjoyed ourselves.”  

Neuvillette pondered your question. He thought of your look of wonder upon seeing the willow tree and Merusea Village, the sight of you playing and chatting with the dear Melusines, the little smiles you’d give him, the feel of you in his arms, the sensation of your hands in his hair and around his horns, the kiss...  

How could one day feel so long and yet so short at the same time?  

A rush of warmth surged through his body. He took your hand in his and raised it to his mouth. Then, before your astonished eyes, he brushed his lips against the back of your hand.  

“This day will be engraved into my memories until the end of time,” he said solemnly, looking directly into your eyes. “I have no complaints about anything. You were absolutely perfect.”  

He saw your cheeks becoming rosy. You looked away, but he didn’t miss the way your lips turned up in a smile. “And you say I exaggerate,” he heard you mumble.  

The two of you went onboard the boat and sailed back home.  

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