#Stepped Off The Beaten Path AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐆𝐨 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐆𝐨

There had never been a real need for you to visit your local mechanic. Your car was sturdy and stubborn, taking hit, after hit, after hit, and you just rolled with the punches. Until you landed in a tough spot — stuck on the side of the road, conveniently close to Barnes Classics Restoration.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✯ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✯ 2.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✯ Fluff, flirting to the extreme, Bucky is a show off

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✯ Well, this was self-indulgent to the max, sue me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ✯ Flower by Moby ✯ Break My Baby by KALEO

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✯ @buckybarnesevents Into an Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟮 — Mechanic AU — Masterlist

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The first splutter and clunk of your engine set you on edge, but with how fast you lost power it was even more concerning – you were stuck, in a car that refused to cooperate for the few blocks it would take to get to the closest mechanic: Barnes Classics Restoration.

“Come on, please,” you begged, clutching the steering wheel like a lifeline. “Just get me there!”

The garage came into view not a moment later, and your car – as ever loyal and hardy as it was, choked and gave up the ghost. “No! God,” you groaned. Your phone came free from the cradle with a pull and you shoved it into your bag. “Just what I needed today, fucking hell.”

Your shoes, a beaten-up pair of Chucks, scuffed the crumbling surface of the road as you walked towards the garage where classic cars were parked on the side of the road – panels and chrome shone under the midday sun and you marvelled at the sight. You weren’t one for cars – having gotten the cheapest and safest option to get you from point A to point B – but the sheer power that seemed to just roll off from the parked vehicles gave you a small pep to your step.

It was nothing compared to what you felt when you strode up the path towards the open doors of the garage.

A couple of men were milling about, grease stained but no less attractive. What caught your eye, however, was the broad back of a tall man slumped in the engine bay of a car, his back covered in a red Henley that rippled with every movement of his shoulders. When he moved his arms into the light, you could see the dark intricate tattoos gracing his muscled and veiny forearms, and when his head appeared from the shadows of the popped hood, you couldn’t help the small, quiet gasp that left you.

The man’s hair was long, almost to his shoulders and he had a scowl etched on his face while he spoke to the blond man next to him. You clutched your bag to your side and took a few steps closer – you needed the help after all, regardless of how drop dead gorgeous or intimidating the man was.

They paid you no mind as you neared, clearly too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to a potential customer – you couldn’t tell if you were grateful or disappointed with that fact.

“Excuse me, I was wondering-” You tried, but stopped when they both looked at you suddenly. The man wearing the red Henley nodded at the blond before gesturing into the garage, and the blond strode off into the garage, tool and rag in hand.

It was hard to find the words to pinpoint what you were feeling as the full attention of the Adonis- man focused wholly on you. Stormy grey eyes searched your face and he quirked a brow in question. “How can I help you?”

Oh, his voice. You prayed that your thoughts didn’t flicker across your face at the low timbre and downright sinful tone.

“My car,” you gestured over your shoulder and the man glanced up and nodded once. “It, um–kicked the bucket, you could say, while I was making my way to you. I was headed home but I kind of can’t now. Can you take a look?”

You watched while the man looked over his shoulder, his stance changing from professional and aloof to open, welcoming. It was a relief. “Stevie!”

“Yeah?” A voice called out of the garage, and a mop of blond hair suddenly appeared from under a car. It was the man he was talking to.

“Watch my shit, I’ll be back.” The man turned back to you and smiled, holding out his hand to shake. “I’m Bucky.” His calluses were rough against your skin and you smiled back, offering your name.

Bucky gestured towards your car, and you took the lead. “So,” you began, looking over at him, taking just a second to appreciate the way the sun casted its rays down on his brown hair, and the beautiful tattoos that were visible under his rolled-up sleeves. “You’re the owner of the garage?”

“That I am, doll,” Bucky smiled, meeting your gaze. You hastened to look straight ahead; eyes only slightly wide at the endearment. Get it together! “Your car,” Bucky continued, staring ahead with narrowed eyes towards your sorry heap of machinery. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Uh–I’m not sure, it was fine the other day and then this,” you offered, watching as Bucky came to a stop at the hood and gestured for you to pop it. The sound that it made forced a deep wince to warp your expression. “That was doing that when I bought it.”

Bucky only chuckled while he pushed the hood up and secured it, and you did all you could to not stare at his arms as he did so. Oh, your friend would have your head on a platter if you did nothing, you swore on it.

The sounds of Bucky tinkering around the engine of your car filled the silence and you watched, entranced with the way he worked his hands and his strength to manipulate the many, many parts you couldn’t even begin to understand.

It took a second to realise that he had started speaking, because when you looked up, he was staring right at you with a sly smirk. “You alright, sweetheart?”

“Fine,” you squeaked, and Bucky laughed. The bastard, you cursed.

“As I was saying – this should be an easy fix, though it is a lengthy one.” Bucky stood and brushed his hands on his dark jeans. “Do you have a way of getting home?”

“I can get a cab, hang on,” you said, digging in your bag but Bucky held up a hand to stop you, and you froze.

“Let me take you home,” Bucky said simply, as if there wasn’t a flock of butterflies in your stomach and your mind wasn’t on cloud nine from such a simple offer. “That way while I work on your car, I know you’ll be safe. I can come get you in the morning, too.”

Silence followed his offer while the connection to your brain and mouth caught up, you felt foolish for standing there opening and closing your mouth like a damn fish out of water. Bucky took your silence as rejection, and your heart seized at the small frown on his pretty lips. “You don’t have to, but let me walk you back, you can call a cab from the off-”

“No, no, I-” you interrupted. Your hands were trembling and you willed them to be still. “I would appreciate that, a lot.”

A blinding smile brightened Bucky’s expression and his nose scrunched. You sighed quietly, the sound covered by the creak and groan of the hood slamming down. What had you gotten yourself into?

You couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit giddy on the short walk back to the garage. Bucky, the gentleman, had continued to insist on driving you home so he knew you would be safe – and not only that, he had moved closer to you as you walked, his shoulder brushing yours occasionally while you two shared a comfortable silence.

“Where do you live, doll?” Bucky asked as he stepped into the office. He pulled down a jacket and a set of nondescript keys. You offered your address and he nodded, gesturing out another door. “C’mon.”

Stevie, the blond from before caught Bucky’s attention and saluted, but Bucky waved him off while rolling his eyes. “Ignore that punk, I do.”

“Is he your friend?” You asked, falling into step beside Bucky while he led you into a small car park – it must have been for the employees only because cars in varying states of restoration filled the spaces.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky mused, chuckling. He stopped and gestured in front of him and you glanced at the car, then did a double take, your mouth falling wide open in shock. Your reaction must have sparked something because Bucky just grinned widely, a flicker of pride in his bright eyes.

“This is your car?”

“Yeah, it’s mine,” Bucky answered, and he placed a hand on your lower back to urge you towards the passenger seat.

You dug your heels in and he turned to look at you, a brow raised while that grin made your heart flutter. “It’s the car from that movie, isn’t it?”

Bucky laughed, and you found you would do anything to hear that sound again. “It isn’t the car, no, but I restored her from the ground up.” You stepped closer and placed your hand over the sloped arch of the fastback Mustang, in awe of the sleek shape and the pepper grey paint, accented by black racing stripes. Bucky brushed past you and opened the passenger door to reveal a neat leather interior. “Hop in, sweetheart. I can take you for a spin before I take you home.”

Starstruck, you walked forward and took Bucky’s offered hand while he winked. “Madame,” he said, his tone low and husky.

The interior of the car was just as beautiful as the outside – leather and chrome accents shone under the sun and you looked to the shifter, a singular white circle surrounded a red button, the words GO BABY GO etched into the finish, and you grinned. You shuffled in your seat and strapped the harness over your body as the driver’s door opened. “Bucky, this is exactly like Eleanor, I swear.”

“You are seriously one of the few people that have made that connection,” Bucky hummed, shuffling until he was comfortable, and then he strapped himself in. “Makes me all the more happy that I’m taking you home.”

“What?” You floundered, staring at him wide-eyed, your surprise a catalyst to his laughter.

“What?” Bucky repeated, shrugging. “Gotta take a pretty dame home so she’s safe, don’t I?”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, gripping the belts of the harness in shock. He was flirting – Bucky was flirting.

The keys in Bucky’s hand jingled and turned in the ignition, and the Mustang roared to life, the vibrations rattling your bones. “Alright, you ready, sweetheart?”

You stared at Bucky and he just smirked back, completely unabashed. “You are insane,” you pointed out. “You are absolutely insane.”

“Not the worst I’ve been called, doll, c’mon,” Bucky pouted, grabbing the shifter and jostling it. “I wanna take a pretty girl for a spin, you gonna let me?”

Heaven above, you were gonna melt into the leather seat if he kept staring at you like that. “Fuck it, take me for a spin, Bucky.”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky breathed, and he pumped the clutch as he put the Mustang in reverse. The engine purred with the low speed and you watched as Bucky turned the wheel with one hand, and the other shocked the shit out of you by coming to rest on your thigh. A noise of surprise left you and Bucky looked over at you sharply. “Too much?”

A sudden burst of courage flooded you and you shook your head. “Never enough,” you grinned, and Bucky laughed. You watched the garage pass by slowly and the sound of the engine echoed around the small driveway, the rumble and timbre still rattling your bones.

“Oh, hang on,” Bucky said suddenly, and the Mustang stopped just outside the front roller doors. You watched in the side mirror as Bucky’s employees gathered and pulled out their phones and pointed them towards the car. The opening notes of a song started and you gasped, gripping the belts across your chest. “What?” Bucky grinned, gripping the wheel and your thigh simultaneously. “I have to show off to the classics, don’t I?”

“Oh my god!” You cried, grinning like a fool.

Bring Sally up, and bring Sally down, lift and squat, gotta tear the ground.

The engine revved, lowered to a purr, revved again, and Bucky put his boot to the floor. The following symphony was priceless; the engine roared like a beast and the back end dipped, and before you knew it, a cloud of smoke engulfed the back of the Mustang. You heard Bucky’s feet on the pedals and the shifter clunking as Bucky tore through the gears, but only barely – blood was pumping through you and muting all sensation except for the exhilarating feeling of losing control.

Somehow, you had reached the end of the road in the blink of an eye and you gasped for breath, working through the scorching adrenaline in your veins. The engine settled to a low purr once again and you felt Bucky looking at you, his grin manic and bleeding arrogance. “You with me, doll?”

“I’m with you,” you rushed, returning his grin. “Take me home, handsome.” The prideful gleam in Bucky’s eyes gave you no cause to regret the slip of your tongue, and you settled into the seat for the drive home, heart still racing. Words escaped you for the entire drive, but the smile never left your face, nor Bucky’s.

Before long, Bucky pulled up out the front of your house, and he killed the engine with a happy sigh. “Here we are,” he said, looking at you with such a frightening softness, as though he was already fond of you – like his flirting wasn’t just a game. “Let me walk you in.”

“Okay,” you agreed shakily, and Bucky reached over to unclip your harness before he stood from the car and stretched, groaning as he stretched. Blessedly, his shirt rode up and you caught a peek of the tattoos on his lower stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you walked towards the front door of your home and Bucky followed you, and that giddy feeling returned in earnest. “I had fun, I-” You hesitated, then plunged on. “I don’t know how to thank you, Bucky. I know it was such short notice and-”

“Come get a drink with me,” Bucky interrupted, voice soft but confident. “Whatever it is you drink, and I’ll consider it all repaid,” he said, finishing with a wink. “What d’you say, doll?”

You nodded hastily, not even ashamed of the eagerness. You dug in your bag and pulled out your phone to unlock it before passing it to Bucky. “Here, give me your number, and you can text me in the morning.”

“Or tonight?” Bucky questioned, taking your phone with a cheeky smirk.

You ignored how your stomach leapt at his words, instead you smirked back. “I dunno, handsome,” you began. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed but his smirk grew, almost predatory. “Alright, sweetheart,” he said, handing back your phone. “I best get back and get back to work if I want to be free tonight, I’ve got a pretty dame to talk to, after all.”

You stood on the step by your front door and watched him walk back to his Mustang, firing it up and blowing you a kiss before he tore down the road, the roar of the engine still audible even a few streets away. Curiosity gripped you like a vice and you unlocked your phone, only for his contact to be the first thing you see.

Handsome.

“Damn,” you muttered, shaking your head and grinning happily while your fingers hovered over the keyboard to text him. “I’m so doomed.”

And doomed you were.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #Connect4AU #rookthorne's works #GBG

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skz-streamer · 9 months

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Newest Member of Cultracha

<- Back to article

<- BACK TO MASTERLIST

Pairing: ot8 (skz) x fem!reader (9th member)

Genre: Fluff, Crack? Idol Au

Warnings: cult members, slight mention of religion, being in a van? idk?

Notes: Ok at first I was like let me wait until I post the full master list of everything...but I kinda feel bad that I'm not feeding y'all anything so here you go.... Basically Y/n is part of Cultracha w Hyunjin and Jeongin, this is the backstory of it. YAYYYY FIRST FIC PART OF THE Y/N MASTERLIST!!!

Summary: Stopping on a road trip to take a bathroom break becomes a little more memorable than you thought it would be.

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately face claims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

Word count ~700 ;)

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The van hums along the scenic coastal road, and the atmosphere inside is electric with excitement. You're nestled between Felix and Changbin, enjoying the animated chatter and laughter of your fellow members.

Bang Chan, your designated driver, glances over his shoulder and grins, "Alright, who's ready for some awesome tunes?" He cranks up the music, and the van erupts with cheers and claps.

Seungmin, riding shotgun, adds with a mischievous grin, "As long as you don't play any of those old-school songs, Chan."

Chan rolls his eyes, pretending to be offended. "Hey, my playlist is diverse!"

A chorus of playful laughter fills the air, and you join in. Seungmin leans toward you, teasing, "Don't worry, Y/n, I'm sure he's got at least one song from this decade on there."

You giggle, feeling the friendly vibes flowing through the van. The snacks you packed are making the rounds, and there's an ongoing competition between Hyunjin and Jeongin to see who can finish their bag of chips first.

As you navigate through the twists and turns, the conversation shifts to jokes. Han clears his throat dramatically. "Alright, guys, get ready for the funniest joke you'll ever hear."

"Let's hear it," Minho urges, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Han smirks, "Why did the scarecrow win an award?"

The van falls into a brief silence before Jeongin's deadpan response, "Because he was outstanding in his field?"

Han bursts into laughter, clapping his hands. "Yes! You got it!"

The rest of you burst into laughter as well, teasing Han for his choice of joke. "Wow, Han, you're really raising the bar for comedy," Seungmin jokes, earning more laughter.

Felix chimes in with his Australian accent, "Alright, I've got one. Why don't scientists trust atoms?"

Your curiosity piqued, you lean in. "Why?"

"Because they make up everything!" Felix delivers the punchline with a grin, and the van erupts into laughter once again.

Hyunjin claps him on the shoulder. "Guys I might actually jump out of the van if I hear one more joke."

As the jokes and laughter continue, Bang Chan suggests a bathroom break. You spot a small convenience store and point it out. The van comes to a stop, and you all pile out, stretching your legs and enjoying the fresh air.

The restrooms are a bit off the beaten path, nestled between tall trees. The small store looks like something straight out of a movie. After using the restroom, you exit and notice two individuals standing near the entrance. You hear snippets of their conversation about spirituality as you pass by.

"Excuse me, miss," one of them begins, stepping toward you. "Have you ever considered the path to true enlightenment?"

Caught off guard, you stutter, "Well, I..."

Before you can finish, the other person joins in, their eyes intense. "Our journey has led us to discover profound answers. Are you on a journey of your own?"

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you mumble, "I'm sorry, I have to go," and quicken your pace to the van.

Once inside, the memory of the encounter lingers, and your wide eyes don't go unnoticed by your members. As they return, laughter and smiles in tow, Hyunjin notices your demeanor.

"Hey, Y/n, everything okay?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You take a deep breath and share the bizarre encounter with the strangers. The van goes quiet as everyone absorbs the story, but soon enough, a burst of laughter fills the space.

Jeongin chuckles, "Cult members? Seriously?"

Minho grins, "Only you could attract that kind of attention, Y/n."

You let out a nervous laugh, "Yeah, tell me about it."

Changbin shakes his head with a smirk, "Well, you're back with us now, safe and sound."

Felix pats your shoulder, "Don't worry, Y/n, we won't let any cults recruit you."

As the van continues down the coastal road, you feel the warmth of your friends' comfort. Bang Chan offers a reassuring smile through the rearview mirror. "We've got your back, always."

Minho adds with a chuckle, "Yeah, and if they ever ask you to join, just tell them you're already part of the most exclusive cult – Stray Kids."

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Permanent tag list: @eee5533 @mixtape-racha @ot8skz-wifey @ren0325 @felixvsp

Click here to be added❤️

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min-hoax · 3 months

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Afterlife - PJM • SNEAKPEAK

Pairing: Yandere! Jimin x F! Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of disappearance/kidnapping,

A/N: Thought I’d give you guys in insight of the AU I’ve been wanting to write. It’s not completely finished and tbh I’m not sure where I’m going with it- I’m leaning more towards a Supernatural/Mythical route, but if anyone has any thoughts, I’d be honored to hear them!! Let me know down below or in my inbox.

The house sits behind a lake - off the beaten path, encompassed with trees to its back, the forest eerie, but yet serene.

It wasn’t what they expected: cared for, the lawn beautifully mowed with a growing garden, the home like any other middle class refuge.

With just two knocks the door was unlocked and opened, and through your picture on the tabloids, they immediately understood who the man standing before them was.

“Min Yoongi?” The man questions, a bit older than his companion, with broad shoulders and round eyeglasses framing his face.

“The writers, I assume?” When they nodded, Yoongi stepped aside. “Come in. Can I get you anything? Water, tea, coffee?” He asked, gesturing to the navy blue velvet couch. “Please, sit.”

“Uh, no sir.” The man continued, glaring at the younger boy next to him when his brother discreetly smacked his arm, annoyed that he’d decline free food.

“As we said over the phone, I’m Seokjin and this is Jungkook.” Jungkook smiled, waving at the man, “We’re with Faraday University, hoping to write about your niece’s disappearance.”

Yoongis’ eyes drifted down to the hardwood floor, despondency crystal clear before he painfully smiled and sighed. “Well, I’m glad. Ever since her case turned two, it seemed like the cops around here couldn’t care less.”

“Cops - “ Jungkook started, “they’re good for nothing. Trust me. We know.”

Jin cocked his brow at his brother, disappointed yet again at his words. He fumbled with his jacket, fishing out a voice recorder from the inside. “Do you mind if I record this? I just don’t want to miss anything on the paper.”

Yoongi shook his head. “Of course not.”

With a click of a button the recorder beeped, gently laid on the wooden coffee table before them. Seokjin cleared his throat, adjusting his bottom on the comfortable couch.

“Sir, we were told that you insisted the police look into a… Park Jimin? Is that correct?”

At the mention of said man’s name, he bit his lower lip, immediately nodding.

“Why is that?”

“Because I know he did it. He took my niece. Of course, nobody believes me because I have no proof whatsoever. He made sure of that.”

Jungkook raised his brow with pursed lips, gaze narrowed and focused on Yoongi. “How did your niece meet this man?”

“Church.” He replied. “He came in with his brother suddenly, sat a few pews behind us. I remember, she turned around and smiled at them both. They were nobody’s in our town, came in from Busan - I don’t really remember.”

“And after that, did they cross paths, speak?”

Yoongi nodded. “Yeah. After the service they approached and introduced themselves as Jimin and Namjoon, said they were visiting relatives that lived nearby, but it was soon determined that they didn’t. They supposedly grew around here, in an orphanage that burned years ago.”

The writers cocked their eyebrows, “Orphanage? So they're not really related?”

“I assume not, no. I tried to do my own research even when everyone told me to leave it to the authorities, until I found something that I… that I wish I hadn’t. I guess they were right. I’m not one to believe in such things, but when you grow up with a grandmother who believes in… such things, you start to realize that maybe she’s not as crazy as you thought she was.”

“What did you find?”

Yoongi sighed, “You won’t believe me.”

Jin looked at his younger brother who eyed him before looking back at Yoongi. “Try us.”

“Well, there was a groundskeeper that I approached, asked him if he knew who Park Jimin was. He - he seemed afraid. Told me that if I knew any better I’d stay away from ever trying to find him.”

“Why?”

“Because he believes Park Jimin isn’t human. He’s a fallen angel. The literal devil incarnate. And if I wanted to keep my life, I’d stay away - we’d stay away.”

#yandere jimin #yandere park jimin #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere kpop #yandere kpop x reader #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #fanfic #park jimin #jimin #bts jimin #jimin x reader

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tmntxthings · 1 year

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Σ一The Villainess, AKA: Cherrypie ‘A Cute-Meet’。・゜・

summary: way before the night of the ball, Y/n and Raph met under pretty average circumstances, if average includes testing out a prototype for a cloaking brooch & a certain special ring getting stolen

author’s note: this is first prequel to the ongoing collab with <3 @marwhoa <3 we have been contemplating more prequels to continue adding depth to the story and ofc the almighty ‘part two’

warnings: rise!raph x villain!reader, cloaking brooch au, secret identities, cute meet, fluff

〔you’re here〕 → next

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Through one of the very few quiet streets of the city, a hand emerges from the wall. Around it glitters magenta sparks, twinkling as an entire body follows through it. As dazzling an entrance as that was, this particular stranger happened to be dressed simply. A plain, ruffled, scarlet dress with a billowing skirt, accented by the pair of matching sandals wrapping up her calves, and tied together by a red clutch-purse as its accentuating piece. ‘Plain-Jane’ blinked away a crackle of red magic that was quite literally drawn into a ring upon her finger. Small bits of arcane energy surged in, bouncing erratically beneath the clear film protecting ruby crystals inside—all until the last twinkle blipped into the vacuum.

With a few calming rotations of the ring around her digit and a tucking of stray hairs behind her ear, the silent street was filled by soft tmps of the mysterious newcomer’s light footsteps. Perpendicular to the alley she has appeared through, a sneaky peek was given before she stepped out the next pin-drop quiet street with sidewalks that likely experienced so little foot traffic that they just might be clean enough to eat on.

Luckily, this lass wasn’t here to dine on the sidewalk picnic style—no, no, she was here for a special café that was quite literally the hidden gem beaten off the path. Had it not been for her frequenting, it likely wouldn’t be able to stay open. THAT is just how out of the way it was. Alright, that may have been blown out of proportion, but Y/n couldn’t care less as she and her temporarily-inflated self-importance pushed through the doors. Immediately she was woken up by the soothing hold of coffee grinds and baked goods. They cradled her, placing energizing kisses upon both cheeks.

A barista greeted the door’s chiming bell with a cheerful good morning and “Welcome to Sugar n’Spice!”

Any sleepiness brave enough to stay in your system from a bright and early rise wouldn’t stand a chance in this quaint, domestic place and its enlivening, ambrosial scents as you approached the counter. A glance was passed to the occupants of the room—a man who looked like he just got out of the gym, two sickly looking old ladies by the window, a lady bouncing a kid on her hip, and a man in a suit who’s foot tapped in a ‘watching the clock closely’ fashion.

Giving a curt “Excuse me,” as you navigated around the impatient man, you swallowed the bitterness upon your tongue for these humans who had the privilege to be here, topside, all day, any day. Hold back that discontent, for there is one important rule! A personally appointed exception, specially made for Sugar n’Spice: this place was divine enough to escape your witchy wrath. Show utmost respect by refraining from the usual ‘Hidden City Dweller seething at the humans.’ You could do that anywhere but here. This place was the holy land. The heavenly pinnacle of coffee—the SACRED LAN—

“Ma’am …?”

The barista tilted their head towards you playfully as that increasingly bizarre inner monologue settled abruptly. The distractions were waved off by a shaking of your noggin and an apologetic smile. “Sorry! Caught up with something—could I get the spiced Red Velvet latte? Please.”

Your lips shifted into a patient smile as the barista practically sighed in relief, hand on their chest as they muttered, “..much more normal than that last customer,” under their breath. You quirked an eyebrow at this but quickly rested your features. Humans complained too much for folks that—no! No, no, Y/n, quit it. The rule, remember the rule!

“Oh! Also, can I do the student discount? I’m an Eastlaird student.”

There was a missed opportunity as three of the occupants in the room perked up upon hearing that name; alas, your attention was instead fixated on your red clutch. Swiftly unlatching it and digging out two cards: one to show to the barista, your ID, and the second, your debit card. The animated worker leaned in, nodded at the little plastic, and took off some of the charge via the ‘Sugar n’Spice’s Nice Discount.’ With just one swipe of a debit card and a little wave after the machine’s little ‘doot!’ , you were all ready to go and await your beloved order. Your seeking eyes gazed all around the room in search of a table to claim until landing fondly upon a small two-seater. There, in the corner opposite of the old ladies and other waiting humans, was a perfectly empty space. Morning sun rays seemed to illuminate a chair for you to sit in, whispering a ‘come here to enjoy the one thing humans were able to do right, dear!’

After a moment to place your things upon the uninhabited table, you then went over and leaned against the counter near where orders came out and scrolled nonchalantly through your cellular. A scoff or two may have escaped at whatever human news headlines caught your eyes, at least up until your expression glimmered with a split-second of trepidation as an instinctual swipe did away with an unwanted notification.

NOTIFICATION

You have one new message.

———————————————————

➤ MOTHER sent now

Where are you?

Not here, please, agonized the disguised witch silently. This was your one true escape—the one and only getaway from home that you had. Away from the mystic training, away from her, and into a place where you could be a normal... A normal what, human? Don’t even think about finishing that thought.

But, Sugar n’Spice cafe… this was one of the only human-made delights you had…

Surely that granted you one little ‘cross my heart’ secret kept, right?

Trapped in your chest was a deep sigh; you didn’t want to think about your mother. It felt like she had done nothing but push you to your limits as of lately. Constantly claiming that your magic “wasn’t performing at its peak.”, That you “should train more,” —no, even MORE than that, that you should only be training. The ever-lingering pressure to perform and perform well, lest you don’t come up to par with your mother’s expectations, it was starting to get ridiculous. “Seriously Y/n, are you even trying? If you don’t start taking training seriously—” You quickly shoved the memory away violently.

The little device was hastily shoved into your clutch, along with the unpleasant memory. Your eyes closed as the subconscious habit of twisting your ring came in full swing. You did it mostly when nervous, but every so often it would give off a calming effect—and per usual, it served to ground your racing heart in the here and now.

This place was your safe haven. You didn’t want to mar its charm by thinking of that hateful woman who did nothing but dampen your spirits. Just as you were opening your eyes after building up your resolve, one of the baristas called out, “Spiced Red Velvet latte!” Right on time, just the thing to completely nip these nerves in the bud as if clicking a ‘do not disturb for at least an hour’ switch.

You were so focused on your destination, hand reaching out for its prize. So focused in fact, your hand jolted and floated stiffly as your peripheral caught another hand closing in. Far closer than a stranger’s hand should be, and your eyes were blown wide, resting upon the intruder heading straight for the cup—your cup.

“Oh—”

Both of you stilled. You followed the hand up until you met the gaze of a culprit who dared to try and steal the drink you ordered every single visit! Just as quickly as you made eye contact with a pair of emerald eyes, the barista’s worried voice snagged your attention once more.

“—that’s right! Sorry, both of you ordered the spiced red velvet latte,” clarified the worker behind the counter, slowly, nervously, pulling their hand away from the fresh beverage. “The, uh, the next one will be out shortly!” They amended, turning back to concocting tasty drinks.

“Sorry! You can go ahead, I’m in no rush.”

Your gaze returned to those bright green irises. His voice was deep and soothing, offering a soft smile as he dipped his head towards your drink. Or rather, a drink whose fate laid in the hands of you both. A shared dilemma.

“Wait—wait what?”

Cue the double-take. From the drink, to those curious green eyes, right on back to the drink. Was this… Selflessness? Displayed by one who belonged to a selfish society? “You’re just letting me have it?”

Now, by no means would you ever forfeit something of yours to a human. Not even a drink mishap like this! But, what stopped you in your tracks was the lack of a rude ‘I’ll be taking this! You can wait for the next drink.’ from the stranger.

“Well, yeah, a’course. Raph prides ‘imself on bein’ respectful— ‘s good manners, too.” He was beaming with a proud grin, crossing his arms and standing with a stance that seemed all-too-heroic. The “amaze” factor of his pose was severely detracted by the gym clothes he wore. Basketball shorts and a tank top, sneakers—was this dude on a morning jog? Not the most heroic get-up.

“R.. Right..” Y/n’s eyes rested on the cup and its steam, lingering there for long enough that the drink’s twin had been completed and slid out on the counter, metaphorically framed by the worker chirping, “Another spiced red velvet latte, for here!”

The gears in your head were turning, still frozen by the smallest gesture, far too small for anyone else, but that meant so much more to you. This is a sign, echoed a thought. As he took his drink, you couldn’t have missed him doing a victorious fist to the air and muttering “You still got it, big guy! The precious drink has been secured.” The whimsical nature of the whole interaction had your hand moving before anything could be thought through enough, driven by a single fear. Pushing your hand, the fear begged you, as though letting this one leave here and now would become the biggest regret of your life.

“Wait,”

You nearly whispered the word, feeling an uncharacteristic thump in your chest as those same green hues turned and locked with your own shaky eyes.

“Someone who loves Sugar n’Spice’s spiced red velvet lattes as much as I do, th-that’s hard to find. ‘Cause, y’know what they say, it’s too much sugar and spice.”

“It’s too much sugar n’spice.”

Laughter brought the two together within seconds as the realization that they said the same thing at the same time set in. Y/n’s nerves dissolved—and to be frank, so did this particular stranger’s, not that you would know that.

A shaky invitation was proposed, asking him if he’d like to sit together and share company. With a toothy smile and a nod, the two sat at her claimed table, humming at the clinks the cups made when their bottoms met the polished redwood of the café tables. Just before either could start conversation, one of the old ladies across the room gasped dramatically loud. Y/n would have looked over, had it not been for the man in front of her quickly covering up the scene with a cough and interjection.

“So!”

His voice cracked, seeming to choke on a bit of unease as your eyes returned to him.

“Ya gotta be a regular, too, then?”

“Yes—what gave it away?”

Y/n inquired, taken aback by such a bizarre deduction. Seriously, what gave it away? She glanced at her drink, her seat, and then to the board. The evidence revealed itself before he continued.

“These drinks ‘ave long since been taken off the menu, but they still serve ‘em for the few regulars who knew about it.”

The happy trill he gave upon sipping the hot drink further lowered your guard as you leaned into your hand. The little voice in your head placed its imaginary hands on your shoulders, leaning into your ear with an ecstatic ‘maybe this one’s a good human? say, don’tcha think nice humans exist? there’s the owners of sugar n’spice, so can’t there be others !!?’

“Quite the observant eye you have, sirrrr… Raph” Dragging out the last word until the name came back to you, the same one he said earlier. You were banking on that having been a third-person-speaking moment as opposed to him giving the name of an absentee.

“Raph,” He nodded in confirmation, to which you dipped your head with him, copying his nod.

“And your name?”

“Oh, it’s Y/n.” Your voice spoke sheepishly, wondering why it had taken you so long to say so.

“Issa lovely name, and a pleasure to meet ‘cha!”His smile was so warm and comforting that you let go of the embarrassment swirling around your head, heating your cheeks. Play it off as being from your drink’s steam, that’ll work! Go on, a little ‘shoooo’ to the maroon-red liquid before taking the lightest sip. Ah, it’s still too hot.

“How long ‘ve you been a patron?”

The friendly human asked in order to continue the conversation. This had a tiny smile appearing on your face. You almost couldn’t remember the first time you stumbled into SnS. You blew out a winded raspberry.

“It’s been a good long while..” Pondering hums reverberated from within as your hands lifted the drink once more in a contemplative sip. This was your first year at Eastlaird, so that …plus a couple of years more, Ah!

“Around 3 or 4 years,”

The cup’s bottom tapped the tabletop with a light clink. Ever since you had found one of the more far-off gateways from the Hidden City to the topside, your nose had followed the sweet aroma of coffee. Now every time you snuck away from your mother, you made sure to squeeze a stop here into the schedule. Fortunately for you, sneaking away was one of your specialties, thus your regular status at said coffeehouse.

“Well Raphs been grabbin’ a drink here for 5 or so years!”

The huma— Raph, added after you finished. You wondered internally how miraculous it was that neither of you had run into each other before.

…

…….

Silence filled up the space around you both. Though the conversation had reached a momentary halt, Raph caught himself lingering on a potential topic. Should he bring up Eastlaird? It was an overheard tidbit from the exchange between you and the employee at the register. But, how could he phrase it without sounding like a bit of a creep for eavesdropping in the first place? He glanced up from his glass to find you staring out of the window. Head angled slightly upwards as though captivated by something, and so his own gaze curiously followed yours to the bright blue sky.

Nothing particularly interesting nor impressive stuck out to him. It was just an ordinary sky—not exactly a clear sky, an occasional cloud would make it’s gradual trek across the expanse—, but as his eyes came back to you, it seemed your eyes saw something else in the overhead canvas. A soft smile graced your lips as your eyes affectionately soaked up the view. Maybe it was the strokes of light morning pinks and golden yellows streaking across the canvas. Or it might have been the dashes of clouds, like stretched-out cotton clouds, pinned to the board for depth. Something about this thing that Raph had seen every day yet never truly seen, the twinkle in your eyes had him taking another look. The atmosphere between the two of you opened up to him as he began to realize the position he was in.

Here, at a table for two, with a lady as pretty as you. Deceiving you, disguised and still daring to watch fondly at this vulnerable smile you gave. You were the perfect picture of someone who saw a world he didn’t, and that very thing was leaving a sour pit in his chest. Raph immediately looked down at his drink, taking another swig, but this time the sweet drink left a bitter aftertaste. Everything he did sounded louder to his ears—picking the cup up, swallowing the latte, placing it back down. He was suddenly all too aware of every action he made. How couldn’t he be? Look at you, so well put-together and serene, and here he was making a blunder of the whole conversation. You went out of your way to invite him, and his thanks to that was uninteresting small-talk.

Raph suddenly felt…

Boring.

…

The gap in the conversation only seemed to widen as the two of you both scavenged for the next topic. It was an understatement to say it was humiliating to you—inviting a stranger, who was a human also, don’t forget that very important bit, and then proceeding to give them the driest conversation in existence?

You took the pause as a chance to take in your delightful beverage, and it seemed he had the same idea. As the rays of sunlight filtered in through the bay window beside your table, framed by decorative brown curtains made of the silkiest fabric and lined with gauzy trim, you both had your spirits raised as you bask in warmth and contentment brought at the sweet and refreshing sting of the beloved lattes. As true to their name, the delicate blend of sugar and spice displayed a masterful dance upon your tongue. It was just the kind of drink to set you at ease and clear your head entirely, so much so that you found yourself needing to place the glass down gently and excuse yourself to the bathroom.

A splash or two met your face, dragging you out of the vulnerable trance that the latte left you in.

Think about it, you are sharing a table with someone you hate. Well, not him personally, but his people! They treated your folks so poorly, shunning and belittling them. Don’t even think for a second that your community had forgotten the witch trials!

But, the little voice in your head interjected. This is someone showing us something different. Surely you see that, right? He is yet another example of a good human, and there has to be more, Y/n, you know it deep down!

And just like that, Y/n could feel herself slowly turning back to thoughts she once had as a child—all because of this, this!

This guy. Something about him was making her falter on the hatred her mother ingrained in her. Something about him was making this soldier fall out of line…

And back at the table, that someone was almost disturbing those around him with how his leg was bouncing. A ding from his phone made his knee instantly knock against the table, spilling some of the liquid in his drink-twin’s cup. Begin the panic! Napkin after wadded napkin built up on the table as Raph worked to clean up the spill as best as he could, almost going so far as to pour some of his in to make up for the bit lost. Alas, some restraint was exercised while checking the notification that started this whole debacle to begin with.

It was from a certain nosy brother, texting for “the deets“ of what was going on.

Agitated, he turned to the old ladies at the window who instantly—DESPERATELY—looked everywhere else, pretending they weren’t just boring holes into the back of his head.

“Knock it off, you two! I will not be giving you the ‘deets!‘ So stay out of it—you’re throwing me off”

Raph turned back after having whisper-shouted to the ‘ladies’. No, scratch that, to the not-so-dearest brothers clad in blue and purple who took to elderly human disguises. Why, you may ask? To keep an eye on their brother who was currently trying out a mystic cloaking prototype.

As he leaned into the palm of his hand, huffing and twiddling with the delicate chain around his neck, Raph thought back on what led up to him being here, his special café, with THEM, his meddling little brothers. His human thumb ran across the twinkling ruby as it gave off a magical glow.

So, roll back the cameras—back before you strolled through the door.

Raph had a rather awkward entrance. By no means had he fibbed about frequenting here for the past five years, but there was a crucial detail left out.

This was the first day that he came in with so little clothes.

Not like that, no, I mean that he usually only ventures into the human’s stores and public spaces in get-ups that had him sticking out like a sore thumb. Like seriously, who wears scarves, hats, masks, and coats in summer and spring? But today, clad with a magical item, he was just a normal human being. Normal humans had the privilege of not melting themselves under radiating suns from seasonally-inappropriate disguises. They also held the privilege of getting their drink ‘for here’ instead of ‘to-go.’

And boy was he grateful for that on this day specifically.

See, when he had his antsy, awkward encounter with the barista minutes before you came in, he had been all-too-prepared to grumpily seat himself with the odd old ladies. He had even encouraged himself, “Alright Raph, you got this!” before making a complete fool of himself.

“Raph would like to buy one spiced red velvet latte, thank you….”

He and the worker exchanged glances for a few moments. Nobody could miss the quirked eyebrow they gave at his approach. Recovering from the oddity, they typed away on their device then wordlessly stared up at him. Raph felt that there was something to be done now, as though their eyes were conveying a ‘Well? Go on?’ message. Come on, Raphie, you’ve done this a million times over, why now do you blank out?

“And uh… Where does he pay..?”

Raph added, giving an apologetic smile to the poor worker whose face almost read as ‘this isn’t the normalest customer service experience I’ve had, but it definitely isn’t the worst.’ They gestured to the card reader, adding a low, confused “here, sir.”

After he then fumbled with his card, Raph finally paid and made his way to the pick-up counter. Not so bad.. definitely could do better. Nonetheless, he was brimming with pride from configuring how to order, as a human. He rocked back n’forth on his heels, only coming to a standstill when his attention gravitated towards the baristas working fluidly. Down he came from all the jittery nerves of talking to a human, especially while in a rather comfortable outfit, perfected with the stylish mutant-cloaking necklace! Raph almost started fiddling with the golden chain yet again, this time out of grateful thank yous to the inanimate jewelry piece.

But he held himself back, hands shifting down into his pockets. Donnie had told him plenty of times to, “refrain from touching it.” Which, fair, it was a prototype, and Raph was sure he would need to permanently avoid this place if he shifted back in front of all these people! Or, well, all the workers. Not really a busy place when you’re quite literally a hidden gem. Needless to say, he was only halfway aware of his surroundings when the door chimed. A bell rang out and in walked a figure wearing his favorite color.

Now the color alone would always catch his eye, but the reason he lingered was solely because of her. First, he started at the sandals. Awfully pretty, especially with how they wrapped up and around her calves. Raph could never pull that off, he concluded mentally. Next, his gaze continued to climb, taking in the red dress. The way it—

He blinked and began chiding himself for staring so blatantly. It wasn’t polite! Raph’s eyes darted back to the front and center, aimlessly looking at the menu he may or may not have known well enough to not even look. Away his gaze went, searching for yet another sight to focus on. Ah, right, he noticed the baristas had yet to start on his drink, which he didn’t mind, he wasn’t in a rush for anything more than a normal thing to look at for as long as needed without being creepy. A sign, a table, even a chip in the floors! But all too quickly he found his eyes roaming back to her. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail; although, a few pesky strands must have been bothering her because occasionally her swift hand moved to brush them right back behind her ear.

His phone buzzed, bringing him back from his staring trance once again. It was the perfect opportunity to distract himself, and so when he glanced at the notification, the last thing he wanted to see was a notification from Leo. Raph held in an eye roll as he read, ‘Staring quite hard there, brother of mine’ He promptly let his phone slip back into the pockets of his basketball shorts, leaving the message on delivered.

Though he did lull his head towards the two elderly dressed women in one corner of the coffeehouse, giving the one clad in blue a hard stare that read his reply, Shut up. Raph knew full well he was guilty of the accused crime, staring. Didn’t mean he wanted or needed to be called out by his very annoying little brother, and it definitely didn’t help that Leo had a smug face despite the ridiculous amount of makeup he had on. “Gotta look the part!” Leo’s voice echoed in Raph’s head from earlier this morning, as Leo somehow forced Donnie to put on the makeup as well. They looked absurd, and Raph was thankful for the cloaking necklace now more than ever.

Still, Raph found his gaze trailing back to you so much that he dragged his hands down his face, stretching and groaning out, low and exhausted. It wasn’t till the call for a “Spiced red velvet latte!” broke his trance enough that he sluggishly moved over. Like a crescendo, his energy came back with each step until he reached for his drink with a polite nod to the barista. Their shocked look and follow-up sentence was what brought his eyes elsewhere. Down to the cup.

The hand he recognized much-too-quickly stiffly hovered near, and her gaze was a mixture of an unknown emotion and pure confusion. He, too, stiffened up as though meeting the eyes of Medusa herself. Gosh, she’s even prettier up close, a side-tracked thought said, only for him to recoil his rude hand and gesture to the drink. He was apologizing before your gaze could shift into anything that may have ached his heart, following it up with insisting you take the drink. He could wait! Whatever you were saying next was muffled as he found himself entirely entranced, answering in automated sentences that may or may not have been prepared, had he found himself locked in small talk with a human.

So, to break the trance, he accepted the next identical latte handed to him and turned, quick to flee the scene. That is, until the spell knocked up a notch with your hand on him, inviting him to sit.

And that is exactly how he got into this position: sipping his latte as he watched you come back over to your rightful seat, having left the lavatory. All while trying his best to look like a normal person who definitely did not make some of your drink rock out of its mug a second ago. No, not him. Totally. He’s innocent.

“Sorry! I was, er… Splashing my face. To do away with some sleepiness…”

Raph nodded, taking another sip of his drink that had since cooled down. Did he look guilty? Was he playing it off? He choked up on the sweet liquid upon your next statement.

“Whuh—it’s sticky, did you spill something?”

Curiosity and a bit of wariness swirled in your eyes as they bore through him, begging for an answer. He was caught red-handed, entirely so. All he could do was admit his crime, a sigh slipping his lips as he gave an ashamed look to the left like a regretful puppy-dog.

“I was hopin’ I’d cleaned up alla mess ‘fore ya got back. I had some nervous jitters and knocked the table.. Sorry, Y/n..”

There was yet another one of those uncharacteristic thumps in your chest when his eyes met yours, pleading forgiveness. Rather than the usual bitterness settling in your chest, you found yourself a tad bit more patient towards this special boy. Your cheeks flushed, emitting a heat soothed by the cool side of your hand pressing against it with an even more uncharacteristic stammering.

“Y-You’re fine.. Thank you, for the honesty and clearing the mess.”

The next bout of silence was less awkward and more-so dizzying—in a good way. It fluttered your heart and felt welcoming. As the last bit of your drink passed your lips and settled inside, filling you with blissful comfort, you held out a hand for his empty mug. Perhaps a change of heart would do you some good—a kind gesture returned for someone who truly deserved none of your hatred. His eyes met yours, quickly understanding as he stood and passed the cup to you. This moment was coming to an end, and somehow that made your eyes sting for a moment. It was almost as if a tear was threatening you to prolong it as the ceramics were placed upon their respective ‘for-washing’ pedestals at the disposal corner.

“Well, Raph… it was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise.”

His smile had you considering an option you would never ever do. Your mind strayed to where your phone was, itching to ask this boy a certain question. Together, you both walked out of the café—and again, you missed how the two old ladies were practically becoming the window with how hard they pressed to the glass, nosily watching.

The morning sun was still bright in the sky, shining through clouds in a way that almost spotlighted you guys as you gathered the courage to ask! Turning to face him, you bit the bullet and opened your mouth!

“Could we exch—IRK!”

Y/n lurched forwards when someone knocked into her in a fashion that just couldn’t have been played off as an accident. Thankfully she had bumped straight into Raph (and tried desperately to ignore how nice his chest felt), but the draining, nauseating feeling that began quickly washing over was enough to raise alarms.

And she knew the exact cause. It wasn’t the closeness to a human or the lack of an “excuse me” or “sorry” for shoving her. No, there was another, far more important cause to the sickness tightening. Y/n raised her dominant hand, holding her clutch and finding that a special ring was no longer wrapped around her finger. Of the things to have taken, had this one thing seemed much more important than a literal wallet?!

“The nerve of some people! He totally meant th—Y/n, whoa, ya look pale! Are you okay?”

His hand instinctually made contact with you, brushing some stray hairs away from your face as you had done a few times earlier.

“Th-That guy, he—thief, he took my-my!”

You held your hand, twirling air around where a ring once was. Raph blanked for a second, thinking you had meant something to do with your clutch, but as his eyes zeroed in on the light prints of an absent ring, it suddenly all made sense to Raph. A rushed “What? Wait here,” was muttered before he was quickly pursuing the thief. All while leaving you against the outside walls of the café.

You watched Raph’s figure leave. A heavy exhale clawed itself from your chest. How foolish! You had been so caught up in thought—about asking for Raph’s number, that you had allowed someone to get so close. Too close, right into your personal space, and completely able to swipe your ring.

That small piece of jewelry was dearer to you than anything else you owned. It was what contained your power, or rather, what kept it in control. Without it, you were a hazard who started leaking mystic energy immediately. Red sparks crackling around your eyes when you were pushed.

Just seconds from a potential disaster, but somehow it was Raph’s voice that snapped you out of it. You couldn’t lose control here in front of the one place you swore to protect from your evil. You wouldn’t lose control in front of him. So when you barely explained with a shaky voice and he quickly sprung into action, leaving you, there was relief swirling around. This was a good thing. You’d rather him not be around to witness if you couldn’t maintain a firm grip on your power. Not him. Okay, try to distract yourself. Control, think about anything else, anything but your magic right now.

Oh, right! He had held you!

The thought struck you so fiercely your cheeks heated to the same shade as your dress. The warmth of his arms holding you lingered. Even just remembering the feel of his broad chest had you utterly distracted. And it hadn’t stopped there! He had brushed your hair away from your face, his fingers so careful and gentle. That type of touch was quite foreign to you. It had you blushing even more furiously than before—if that was even possible. Your eyes never left Raph’s back until he dashed out of view into an alleyway.

…

As soon as Raph had seen your expression twist and realized you had been wronged, it was like his body moved before his brain could catch up. The perpetrator had sped up into a jog, after hearing Y/n call out “thief.”

Luckily there weren't that many people crowding the sidewalks this morning. Especially since this part of the city wasn't as advertised. Raph’s green eyes tracked the punk as he dodged into an alleyway. He pushed himself faster, shrinking any chances of this guy getting away right on down to zero. Maybe even into the negatives if he tried hard enough,

Fate was on Raph’s side, as is befitting of the hero, because he slowed to a stop to find the petty criminal glaring at the dead end before him. The universe was practically handing this criminal over to Raph in a cute little red bow right now.

“Alright felon, hand back the stolen ring.”

His voice was rough and commanding. Above all else, he despised those who preyed on the weak. Criminal acts like these deserved a good beating, but Raph was willing to compromise on that if this perp coughed up the ring without making things difficult.

“Back up, hero!”

The cornered thief sneered as he brandished a knife, waving it threateningly.

Raph couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped. If only this guy knew! Raph and his brothers faced weapons tenfold more menacing on every patrol. He doubted such a dull thing could even pierce his shell. For a second, he toyed with the thought of taking off the cloaking necklace. Showing his true form. This punk looked like the type to wet himself, and the slight trembling in his hand that wielded such a crude weapon didn’t go unnoticed by Big Raphie.

“They always wanna do it the hard way,”

Raph murmured, shaking his head as he moved forward. This guy was sorely underestimating him. It was comical! Raph ended up wondering if his human form, despite its size, just wasn’t all that intimidating. That would be new to him. So Raph opted for using this to his advantage. After all, he may look big, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fast, and what was more rewarding than proving wrong the criminal foolish enough to underestimate the Raphael Hamato?

The crook hardly got a second to blink before he was sprawled out on the ground, clutching his gut as he dragged in wounded breaths. Securely in Raph’s palm rested a wooden ring, Y/n’s ring. It had a band of red jewels inside that glimmered brightly even though the alleyway was covered in shadows. He smiled to himself, it seemed as though you really liked this color. His color.

Yet another thing the two of you had in common, other than drinks. How much more did the two of you share interest in?. He wanted—no, needed—to find out.

Now Raph was sure he had held back on his punches, but it was painfully obvious this culprit was struggling to even stand. I see no issue with him turning his back on a downed enemy, do you? Was that overkill? No? Maybe? Who’s here to judge him, honestly?

“Next time, think twice before stealing from a pretty lady.”

He growled over his shoulder before starting up a run back to you. Raph hoped he hadn’t taken too long as he tried to move just a little faster to get back to your side.

Since having been left by Raph, you were finding each second to be harder and harder to restrain the burst of overflowing magic. Thoughts and distractions could only take you so far before fizzling out. Just as you were your mother’s vessel for revenge, that ring was your vessel for magic—a conduit, even. Others would even call it your arcane focus.

Bottomline was, without it, you could barely handle the destructive force pinballing around within. It seems the state you were in was so worrying that the two elderly ladies from the cafe came out, frantically bickering in harsh whispers that were all too muffled in your ears.

Was it getting hot in here, or was it just you? Anyone else? Just you? Alright. Your body pressed harder into the cafe’s brick walls, soothed by the coolness they held. Your head was spinning, with worry and desperation. Was this area hidden enough to attract more danger? Had you really been so foolish as to leave yourself open in prime human territory? Hell, what if this was all an elaborate trick and that thief was actually in cahoots with Raph, and vice versa?

But, what if these are all just your delirious, panicked thoughts? Remember the little voice, the one beckoning hope. She wants to believe humans are good. She wants to believe Raph is good.

You want to believe humans are good, don’t you? How did that one saying go, the one about how even the smallest things can cause the biggest changes? However it went, it seemed this Raph human might have been your smallest thing, creating this ripple of thoughts in your head.

Or, again, maybe that’s the delirium.

You had almost entirely given up on the last bits of hope for Raph being good when finally you saw his silhouette running back to you. He had the widest grin on his face, waving your focus in the air and calling out “Y/n! I got it, ya don’t gotta worry!”

You weren’t sure when the ladies had left, but when he slowed down in front of you and took your hand, you couldn’t help but notice you were all alone.

Old humans were… strange.

Color returned to your skin, the plummeting left your chest, and your tremors ceased as the polished wooden ring slid back into its rightful place upon your hand.

“Th-Thank you…”

You breathed out, allowing yourself to press into him once again with your senses returning faster than you were capable of handling with a straight face. Your forehead rested against his chest as the overflowing energy was being vacuumed right on back to the ring, leaving you far more winded than any training session with Mother had done.

“It’s no problem, Y/n… This ring must be really important to have you this… Upset…”

His voice was softer than it had been during your talks inside. There was obvious concern and worry laced in it. Such kindness was nearly unrecognizable to you, so forgive the temporary dependence on it.

“More than you know, Raph..”

You replied, rubbing the ring so that it twirled around your skin—a nervous habit that Raph took notice to almost immediately. Forgive him, as well, for the heightened attention he had on you right now. A fond smile settled upon his lips as something came back to him suddenly.

“About your question a moment ago, before… well, this. Sure.”

“What?”

You looked up, confused by what he meant. The smile he gave you was enough to put even more hope in your head, eroding the grime and muck that poisoned you, beckoning you deeper to the villainous pits.

“T’exchange numbers, right? That was what ya almost asked?”

Oh! You had completely forgotten that part. Straightening up and taking a coy step back from him, you pulled your cellular from a pocket in your dress (because, really, what villain wears a dress without pockets? never you, of course) and handed it to him with bashful joy.

After the exchange, you both waved your goodbyes, then turned your adoring gaze to the contact in your phone.

𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘢𝘦𝘭 (𝘚𝘙𝘝 𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘯)

（1）𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟－𝘟𝘟𝘟𝘟

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

Based on “someone like you” by adele

there will be 3 separate versions of this fic

modern day au | 6k | steddie | warnings: no minors mentions of sexual acts, abusive behavior, underage drinking, drug use.

(coming soon)

[eddie x fem!reader version]

[steve x fem!reader version]

The crunch of the paper beneath Eddie’s grease coated hands is just loud enough to stifle the gasp and sob racking through his chest. Ink is smeared beneath his fingers as the sweat forms on his palms and the wave of nausea trickles through his body, a pile of bricks in his gut. He barely makes it to the trash can in the break room before he tosses his breakfast, wretching hard enough that his stomach feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself a pink inner tube deflated in his body.

“Christ.. y’ alright?.” Jim says, slapping Eddie on his back, “look like hell, why don’t y’ go home, I’ll finish up that oil change on the Jeep.”

Without a second thought, he stomps out of the break room door and through the large open bay door, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, still clutching the newspaper.

The steering wheel is beaten so many times it’s a wonder it hasn’t broke yet. Pens, lighters, and dnd dice are thrown at the windshield as Eddie comes undone. Letting the screams escape his strewn mouth as he sits in the driveway. Spit is flying from his lips as he screams.

Months had gone by. Not a word. Not a peep. Not a single fuck you, or a longing glance down a grocery store aisle since he had seen him after the fight they had months ago. Now all of a sudden there he was, looking like fucking Malibu Barbie and Ken smiling beautifully in black in white. Hugging her from behind as they both smile lovingly into the camera lense. A beach set behind them, a princess cut ring, from Tiffany’s no doubt, weighing down her left ring finger. Round glasses and the dusting of a mustache splattered on his upper lip, cover his once boyish features. His hair was more uniform now than what it used to be. But there he was, in a matching linen outfit straight from Tommy Bahama, holding his bride, Steve Harrington was married.

Harrington and his wife celebrate one month of wedded bliss in the Bahamas. [picture taken 6/5/2022]

The words bump against each other in Eddie’s brain. He’s reread it almost a dozen times now. Hours have gone by since he first saw it… the trail of spilt whiskey and beer cans littering the floor around him as a good indication of how much time has passed. Yet here he sits-- reading— contemplating—- furious. Eyes burning with tears as they slither down, foregoing finding a new path as the river of sorrow is carved deep on his face.

Steve Harrington..

Steve mother fucking Harrington is married.

To a woman.

The hot salt of heavy tears find their way into his mouth as he sobs again and again. His mind trying like hell to reject what is in front of him, the alcohol increasing his wallowing with every drop on his tongue. Steve. The name was bitter as he dialed the number, the monotonous ringing in his ear, praying the other line would answer. He was fragile, hanging on by a thread.

“Hello?” The voice croaked through the line, it was late, too late to be calling, but desperate times…

“R-Robs… I— I can’t— when did he!? — ” his scattered sobs are making talking almost unbearable.

“Oh Eddie, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” as her voice cranes into Eddie’s ear his mind is flooded with memories of Steve Harrington.

—

“Come on, you’re not afraid are you?” Steve said, ripping his shirt off over his head, and climbing the white steps to the high dive at the Hawkins Pool. It was well past open hours at the pool. Street lights danced on the darkened water, the red swishing fabric of Steve’s swim trunks stopped as he bent at the waist to lower down to Eddie’s face. “It’s not scary, I promise.” His lips turned at the corners into a smirk. He was beautiful, angel kisses splattered across his face. Green honeyed eyes the color of the woods, drank him in, enticing him with a flirty gaze. The smell of his carmex and his Farrah Fawcett hairspray lingering as he nudged his nose against Eddie’s cheek and suddenly retreated, tan legs climbing higher up the diving board. Muscles extending, legs bending and jumping as he dove perfectly into the water. The small ripples of water deepening as he came out of the water, whipping his brown locks around and pushing them back on his head. He waited in the deep end for Eddie, silently begging him. Never pushing, but telling him through his eyes, the way his hands swirled in the water, always flirting, that it was okay, to take the leap, indulge in something new.

Eddie had never been with a guy before.

He was unsure of his feelings. Not that he wasn’t pretty or handsome, he went on a few dates but each one ended the same way—he just found he would rather be them than be with them.

Taking that first step up the ladder was solidifying his feelings toward Steve. The weeks of longing glances in Buckley’s basement, going to the movies as friends but feelings erupting so strongly he didn’t know what they meant. The feel of Steve’s pinky finger grazing his as he dipped into the popcorn bowl. His lips covered in buttery salt, a single drop of Dr. Pepper dripping from his chin. Eddie couldn’t turn his eyes away from him. He shoved it down, suppressed it for as long as he could. And now, three months later, in the swelling blistering heat of the summer, Steve showed up to his trailer, daring him to come with him to beat the heat.

Each rung of the ladder, Eddie’s heart skipped in his chest, and it wasn’t from the height. He was about to jump into the unknown. His feet on the poky board, he took a deep breath, the guitar pic chain around his neck rising and falling with the inhales and exhales. Years of trailer park shenanigans led him to the teetering edge without fear, throwing his body forward into a tumble, flipping twice and splashing into the water, his pale form practically glowing under the water. Eyes burning with the sting of the chlorine, a price swimmers in small local pools have been paying for since the pool managers were every bit of sixteen years old. Steve’s tanned legs kicking delicately to keep himself afloat as Eddie popped up behind him, head breaking the surface as Steve laughs. His breathing evening out at the sight of Steve’s smiling face. Stomach fluttering with anticipation as to what was to come next. Steve’s eyes dance over Eddie’s face, locking on his lips as Eddie pokes his tongue out. Steve leans in, hands still swirling beside him. The warmth of his breath fans Eddie’s lips, warming the droplets of pool water. Lips connecting, eyes shut tight, the noise from Steve’s throat surprised Eddie as the kiss deepened, time non-existent in that moment.

“Told you it wasn’t scary,” Steve said, pulling away, splashing Eddie as he swam away. To date, it was the sweetest kiss Eddie had ever received.

“Take a deep breath, you’re scaring me.” Robin tried to gain some ground on the other end of the line.

“W-when! Steve, when—did—it?!” Spluttering through the void, phone pressed tight against his face as he sobs. His lungs feeling as if they would collapse from years of smoking.

Robin stutters on the phone, heart racing as she tries to explain, “it happened fast— they met 7 months ago— someone his dad had set him up with, she works in his office.”

The air from his lungs were frozen with shock, the phone tumbled down to his cotton socks as it fell from his grasp.

The summer air was thick and heavy, a blanket of humidity covering all of Hawkins. The back doors of the van were pushed open— a slow swirl of smoke drifting out as Eddie laid his head on Steve’s chest. Two pairs of legs hanging out of the back of the van, bare—shucked from denim shorts and black denim jeans. Boxers slung low on pale hips snuggled with boxer briefs on tanned legs tangled together like a twist cone in the darkness of the night. Lips bruised with kisses, hickies splattered across their necks, two lovers laid together. Drinking in the heavy air, breathing in the scent of one another. Every night since the first kiss in the deep end of the closed Hawkins pool, was spent this way. Eddie couldn’t get enough of Steve, he was beautiful to the perfect American boy standard, his lips tasted like milk and honey, sweet and lustfully warm. He brought out the best in Eddie. Sweet giggles shared between a joint, the flick of a lighter against hummed bated breaths against each others cheeks.

“I could stay like this forever,” Steve whispered into Eddie’s hair, kissing the top of his curls as their hands intertwined together, gaudy rings and calloused hands against smooth long fingers.

Eddie smiled into Steve’s chest, sweat coating his cheek. “Forever huh?”

“Doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Steve cooed, wrapping a dark brown curl through his fingers, relishing in the softness of Eddie’s hair.

“Not at all.”

The next day brings little peace to Eddie’s mind. The pounding behind his eyes matches the rumbling in his stomach. He wakes on the carpet in the living room of his small apartment. The comfort of an empty beer can wedged under his waist, drool cold and thick on the corner of his mouth, a leg up on the couch. Sunshine is seeping through the blinds, a warm caress against the floor. He pushes himself into a kneeling position, the room spins as he stands, holding on to furniture and a thrifted standing light as he slinks to the bathroom. A look in the mirror reveals blood shot eyes and hair more than messily askew. He fell asleep in his work clothes, grease rubbed deep into the stains of the coveralls. Two Tylenol between his teeth and lips under the faucet make for the start of easing away the migraine.

He splashed water on his face, cleaning the sleep from his eyes and the drool from his lips, eyes swollen from crying, lips busted and swollen from sucking down beer after beer. A towel against his face dragging slightly on his five o’clock shadow he starts to feel a little better. A scan of the living room reveals the amount of alcohol he went through. Impressive to a frat house maybe but by himself alone? It was borderlining a problem.

He finds his phone on the floor, a long crack from one corner to another, a hairline imperfections. “Fuck,” he breathes to only himself. Unlocking it revealed something Eddie hadn’t wanted to see ever again. A selfie of him and Steve greets him. A costume party at Nancy’s for Jonathan’s birthday when they both dressed as nuns. The habits were tight around their faces. A secret between them both, sealed with love. He swipes up out of the photos app and opens his text messages. The red circle reading ‘10’ has his heart aching. Please dear god don’t let me have texted him, please. That was the last thing Eddie needed, a drunk text to his ex congratulating him on his pretty wife. But alas, karma kept herself in check, the ten texts aren’t from Steve.

9 from Robin and 1 from Jim reading, “hey man, you still sick?”

A quick reply back to Jim saying that he was indeed still sick and that he’d see him on Monday. The 9 looming texts from Robin still remain. He thumbed over her name and read through the walls of text.

Robin had been the only soul to know about Steve and Eddie’s relationship. Not ready to face the world with judgmental stares and harsh words they vowed to keep it private.

Eddie shoots a text to Robin, “I’m ok, just confused, and a little sad.”

8 months.

They had met and decided to get married in 8 months? The paper didn’t say what date they had actually gotten married but if the picture was in June it would have—- it didn’t matter. The timeline was muddy and confusing, Eddie was wondering if it overlapped.

Last time he had seen Steve was 7 months ago in December when he was home for Christmas break.

Surely this was the workings of Mr. Harrington himself. In all the time spent together Steve and Eddie were careful. Not that either of them were ashamed to be who they truly were but Steve’s parents were old school. Traditional in a sense that they were still members of a country club. Old money and the Harrington name ran through their veins and nestled up a grand spot of being somebody in Hawkins, Indiana. However, they were never home.

Eddie stayed at Steve’s place almost every weekend.

The domesticated feeling of having someone around made Steve feel wanted, loved, and safe. A feeling he rarely got from his parents.

They’d spend the weekends watching corny movies from the 80’s, perfecting recipes from Pinterest, and listening to Eddie play his acoustic guitar. Nights were spent in each others arms, rotating who was big or little spoon depending on Eddie’s nightmares. They young, dumb and in love. One particular Sunday morning—that would be branded into the flesh of their brains for eternity— Steve had woken up before Eddie. Eyeing the sizable tent in his boxers he decided to wake him up. Eddie could sleep through a house fire, he was all snores and mouth hung open wide. He didn’t feel the tickle of Steve’s knuckles as they coaxed the fabric down his legs, or the warmth of Steve’s mouth against his hardened length— at least not right away. The pool of saliva in Steve’s mouth as he sucked and twirled, adding his hands as Eddie bottomed out into his throat finally woke him up.

“Oh shit, mmm fuck Steve, thought I was dreaming this,” his dreamy muddy eyes latched onto Steve’s as they held hands while Steve devoured him. Their combined soft moans and the slurping noises had them in their own world, they didn’t hear the front door unlock, or the soft carpeted footsteps up to Steve’s room, or the soft knuckles knocking against the oak door. None of that was heard. Just the baritone yelling of Steve’s dad as he witnessed his son, the golden child, light of his life, suck the trailer park trash out of the Munson disgrace.

Fists were swung in every direction, one connecting to the side of Steve’s temple, knocking him out. Eddie clambered off the bed and stood his ground, begging Steve’s dad to take it easy. A second swing of a fist hooked into Eddie’s left eye. The swelling was immediate. Eddie pushed and shoved Steve’s dad with all his might, earning another munch to his mouth, splitting his bottom lip. Shrieking from Steve’s mother at the sight of the blood on Eddie’s face and her son lying lifeless on the floor caused enough of a distraction for Eddie to lock the bedroom door. He dressed himself quickly, throwing on whatever he could and slipping on his converse. Steve started to stir, groaning and throwing up on the carpet, tears flowing from his eyes.

“Steve!” Eddie cried, “we h-have to get out of here.”

Eddie helped Steve dress and he threw open a window, tossing his small duffel bag down to the ground, another bag for Steve. They climbed out of the window, Steve holding onto Eddie for dear life as they lowered themselves to the ground with the help of the tree branches nestled against the house. Eddie drove them to Robin’s. Steve falling in and out of consciousness as they drove. Eddie was pleading and crying for Steve to stay awake, his vision blurring, eyes not looking at the road. “Open your eyes Steve,” Eddie begs, “please, please stay with me!”

Steve opens his eyes slowly, blinking heavily at the boy frantically trying to stay on the road. Eddie's eye was swollen and huge, purpling marks painting his pale skin. Blood drying on his lips. “We’re almost there, babe.” Eddie says sweetly, “ju—just hold on.”

After cleaning Steve up and deciding he didn’t have a concussion, Eddie held him in his arms on the couch, lightly dozing off as Robin made breakfast. “I love you,” Steve whispered into Eddie’s chest. He didn’t hear Eddie’s reply as he slowly drifted to sleep.

A knock on the door to his apartment shook him from the daydream. He didn’t realize he had started crying again, the pain of the past weighing heavy on his features. “Come on Eddie, I won’t stop knocking til you open the door, and I’m sure I could find your building manager and tell him I smell gas so he has to let me in!”

The door swings open to reveal a lanky tall girl, freckles sporting her face in various patterns, her blue eyes gleaming as her smile fades at the sight of Eddie.

“Jesus Munson,” she berates, “you sure you’re alright?”

Their bellies full of McDonald’s breakfast and coffee that Robin had made in the keurig she had gifted Eddie for Christmas but was never opened, Eddie finally speaks, “thanks for this,” he gestures with the greasy McMuffin wrapper snug in his grip and the coffee tight to his lips.

“And uh— I’m sorry about last night— I was— shocked.”

The warmth of Robin’s hand on Eddie’s shoulder is comforting as she rubs gently, “Honestly, I was shocked too. Last I knew, he was excited to see you over Christmas break— I had no idea you weren’t together until a month ago when he called me.”

Eddie let out a large breath feeling his shoulders sag as he picked at his nails, “yeah, well things really changed after he went to college.” A single tear slides down his face, “he was— I’ve never loved, or been loved, by someone like that before, y’ know?” Eddie shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes, his vision clouded with tears and blackness. “I th-thought— God— ” he murmurs, pushing down the sobs, “I thought he loved me.”

Eddie made the day special, started off with a matinee and the same treats they had shared all those long months ago. They ordered from Enzo’s and ate under the stars on the top of Eddie’s van, lanterns lighting the plastic forks as they twirled rogue spaghetti noodles into each other's hungry mouths. The conversation was light, talking about the weather and the new tiktoks that were popular that week. He wasn’t sure when, but something had changed with Steve, he was quieter than normal. The light caring attitude he usually wore was now replaced with turned in eyebrows and nodding along to almost everything Eddie had said.

“Okay, what’s going on babe?” Eddie had asked, placing his fork down a little harder than he had expected, “you usually love the garlic bread and you haven’t even touched it.”

Steve’s eyes were turned downward, “nothing Eddie, I’m fine, just not that hungry.”

Eddie almost believed him, “don’t lie to me, Harrington, you forget how well I know you,” he nudged his shoulder with his own, “come on, you can tell me.”

Steve’s eyes spring with tears as he looks into the soft brown of Eddie’s, “I don’t want to leave you.” His shoulders shake as Eddie pulls him close and hugs him tight, his lips on his neck, kissing delicately at the small beauty marks that make up a vast majority of Steve’s skin. He moves his forehead to lean against Steve’s, the smell of spaghetti sauce on his tongue as he kisses him softly, holding his cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here, every break— every weekend you want to come home— I’ll be right here, forever.” He slips the guitar pic necklace off his head and places it around Steve’s neck. “Can’t get rid of me, that easy lover boy.”

Steve leans in and locks his lips with Eddie’s, tears fell from both of their eyes as their tongues dance together. “Come on, I’ve got one more place to bring you.”

The short drive to the Hawkins pool was filled with sniffles and holding hands, Eddie occasionally bringing Steve’s knuckles to his lips to kiss them each softly. They both get out and jump the fence, stripping down to their underwear and climbing the high dive. Steve dives in first and then Eddie.

“I brought you to all our firsts.” Eddie says proudly, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. “The first time I realized I was attracted to you was at the movie theater, you had Dr. Pepper dripping off your chin. Eddie kisses the same spot the soda had clung on Steve’s chin. And here,” he says, waving his arm around, “was our first kiss, and where I realized I wasn’t afraid to be myself anymore.”

Pain breaks across Steve’s face but he shoves it down for this one last night with Eddie before he moves to college in the morning. He smiles and kisses him. “I love you, Eddie Munson.” Steve purrs into Eddie’s neck.

“And I love you, Steve Harrington.”

Eddie had spent the majority of the day looking through old pictures and teaching himself sad songs on his guitar. Writing down his feelings were the only thing that helped ward off the hell of what Steve had put him through. The pen moved feverishly against the scratchy composite notebook he kept. Words flowing through him fluidly like a river against the bedrock. He allowed himself to think of that night. The last time he saw Steve Harrington.

The first week Steve was at school, it was almost as if he never left. He FaceTimed Eddie every chance he got, showing him around the campus, all the cool places to eat and his dorm room. Eddie would excitedly gaze through the screen at him, working on a car simultaneously. Jim’s Auto had taken him on and paid for his night classes for a diesel mechanic degree. He was happy for Steve, excited to hear all about the things he was experiencing. The texts from Steve got more and more scarce. Nightly FaceTime calls were few and far between. Eddie knew Steve had made new friends at college and he was happy for him. Happy that Steve was going to make something of himself and prove his dad wrong. But the sick inkling feeling that Steve had moved on all came to a halt when Christmas break arrived and Steve’s maroon BMW was parked in front of Eddie’s apartment complex on the north side of town. He was leaning against his door, a cigarette tucked between his teeth and the light blue denim of his jeans pressed against the door.

“Damn you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Eddie grins, as he reaches out for a hug. Steve hugs him cautiously, a feeling that is not reciprocated back as the bear hug Eddie has him in traps the air in his lungs. “Fuck, I missed you.” Eddie speaks into Steve’s neck. Kissing him feverishly.

Steve slinks away from him and grabs a duffle bag out of his trunk. “You too, Munson.” He says shyly, slinging the bag over his shoulder. A pained smirk upon his face. The toe of his Nikes kicking a small rock as they walked into the building, and up the stairs. The smell of fresh paint in the hallways and salt rock for icy sidewalks fills their noses.

“So I thought,” Eddie said, unlocking his front door and flicking the lights on, “we could order a pizza and maybe rewatch ‘You’ before the new season comes out in February. How does that sound?”

“Yeah man, that sounds great— but I’m only gonna be here for a little bit.” Steve says, eyes casted downward.

The air sharpened in Eddie’s chest as he froze, one hand still on the knob. “What do you mean, you’re only here for a little bit?” A look of concern painted on his face, as his eyebrows knit together. “Wh-what’s going on Steve?”

Steve adjusts his weight, hands on his hips as his eyes bore holes into the carpet, “listen man, I don’t want to make this harder than it already is.”

Eddies breath quickens, furious tears splash from his lashes, “I fucking knew it,” he spits, wiping a ringed hand down his face, “ya know what?” he says angrily, opening the door and holding it wide open, “just go, I don’t need a sorry fucking excuse about why you can’t do this anymore or how hard long distance is.”

“Eddie..” Steve tries.

“Get the fuck out.”

Steve steps around Eddie and leaves silently. Eddie doesn’t hear the sobs from Steve’s car as he drives away. The duffle bag full of Eddie’s belongings, including the guitar pic necklace, still sitting by the door.

Not wanting to let the boys down, Eddie goes along with the gig on Saturday. Corroded Coffin worked their way from Tuesday nights at the Hideout to Saturday nights, the bar was sticky hot and packed full of co eds home for summer break and trying to let loose. Gareth was a senior now while Jeff and Barry graduated with Eddie. Still doing covers but now venturing into turning pop hits into metal ballads, Corroded Coffin had become a regular house name, even booking gigs during the week out town.

Dustin had begged Steve to bring him to the bar, claiming the bartender wouldn’t card him if Steve was with him. Steve agreed, knowing that Eddie’s band only played on Tuesday nights. He hadn’t talked to him since that cold December night. In fact his entire life had changed. He finished his first semester of college and started working for his dad over the summerI, and that’s where he met you. His dad had been bothering him about the cute receptionist at work for months. Basically ever since he got to school. When he came home for one weekend weeks before Halloween, he had met you. You were pretty no doubt, a beautiful smile and witty humor, laying your charm heavily on the boss’ son in hopes to swoon him. And normally— any other boy would have jumped at the chance, following you around like a puppy dog.

But you weren’t Eddie.

That night at the country club with one too many rounds of scotch between Steve and his dad, Mr. Harrington promised Steve the world and more, taking over the family business, a personal jet to fly him wherever he wanted, all Steve had to do was agree to date the receptionist. Steve jumped at the chance to embarrass his father, he couldn’t wait to tell Eddie about it, how rich they would be, the trips they could go on, the house they could buy. But Steve never got that chance.

The bar was dim lit and stench filled. It smelled exactly like he had remembered. Remembering it was almost an entire year since he had last set foot here. The way Eddie’s bangs clung to his forehead as he sang to Metallica’s “Wherever I May Roam”. The muscles in his arm worked overtime as he strummed along with his guitar. God Steve had loved him.

“Two, no three Bud Lights please!” Dustin said as he sauntered over to the bar, head held high and a bravado to his voice. “Sorry, did you guys want something?” He grinned, all squinty and toothy— finally— his curls bouncing under his ball cap.

“Captain and Coke for me,” Steve began, “and Coke for the lady,” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Thought I’d surprise you, I wasn’t sure if he told you or not!” Dustin gushed, one beer already have gone, suds spilled on his lips.

Steve’s brows furrowed, “who told me what Dustin?”

“Hey everyone thanks for coming out, I’m Eddie, and we are Corroded Coffin!”

Steve’s blood ran cold. His breath hitched into his chest as he watched an excited Dustin raise three beers into the air and yell along with the crowd. “This is great isn’t it!?” He yelled as Eddie’s guitar shredded to life, Gareth hot on the drums as “For Whom The Bell Tolls” blared through the small bar.

“Babe,” you said into Steve’s ear, “you know this band?” Your smile could melt the polar ice caps. Sweet, endearing and your sparkling eyes were glistening.

Tongue stuck to his cheek Steve fumbled over his words, “y-yeah, they were uh— big in our school.” Steve explains hurriedly.

“You’re forgetting your best friend is the lead singer!” Dustin’s says guzzling down more beer and banging his head to the beat.

“Best friend?” You ask Dustin, “I thought we met all of your friends earlier, Steve?”

“Haven’t seen each other in awhile— kinda drifted apart.” Steve faltered. Eyes glued to the lead singer as Dustin pulled you and Steve closer to the front of the stage.

Eddie looked exactly the same, months apart did him well, he looked stronger, the muscles in his arms bigger, his hair longer and healthier. Tattoos riddled his arms. Steve was mesmerized. Entranced by his beauty. It took six songs for Eddie to finally see Steve. And when he did he shook his head and punched his tongue practically through his cheek. “Thank you, this next one goes out to all the people who have ever gotten their shit rocked by a breakup.”

Adele’s lyrics cut deeper than any kitchen knife could puncture.

“I heard that you've settled down and that you found a girl and you’re married now.”

Steve’s stomach dropped, he knew this was meant for him to hear. Eddie’s eyes never wavered from Steve’s as he sang. The hurt of a year's worth of memories stretching from his chocolate eyes across the bar to Steve’s honeyed green ones. The memories of Eddie curled into Steve’s side as they slept in his bed, the way Eddie’s hair looked in the morning after Steve convinced him to put rollers in it. The way Eddie danced in the kitchen after making mac n cheese. His lips, the way they curved around his neck and his hands in his hair. Every emotion, every memory all at once, hit Steve like a freight train.

“I love Adele,” you said into Steve’s shoulder as watched Dustin wipe tears with the back of his hand, six beers deep and he was in rough shape.

“G-gotta pee,” Steve stuttered, squeezing your hand and walking to the bathrooms. Eddie sang the rest of the song and announced they were taking a quick break. Pushing his way to the bathrooms where Steve stood, hovering over the sink tears pouring from his eyes.

“Old friend, why do you look so shy?” Eddie hissed. “What’s the matter big boy, didn’t like the song?” Venom in his voice as his words stung into Steve’s heart.

“I didn’t know you were playing tonight otherwise I wouldn’t have came.” Steve blubbered, “Dustin wanted to surprise me.” He said, wiping his eyes with his shirt. The shine of a ring on his left hand made Eddie’s gut twist.

“Well I’m glad you weren’t the only one surprised this week.” Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest, “please tell me this is a sick fucking joke— first I see about in the goddamn Hawkins post and the next day you both show up to see Corroded Coffin?! Real fuckin low Steve, even for you.” Eddie makes to leave but Steve crosses the dirty bathroom floor and follows him out. Where he runs right into you.

“Oh there you are,” you smile widely at Steve, “oh honey, are you sick?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and tries to leave, “I’m y/n, by the way, it’s so nice to meet more of Steve’s friends!” Eddie spins on his heel and faces you.

“Eddie,” he says holding out a hand and smiling a smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, he looks down and that’s when he notices.

You’re pregnant.

“Hope we’ll see you at the baby shower tomorrow,” you exclaimed, “excuse me, gotta dash to the ladies.” You step around the wide eyed metal head opening the ladies bathroom door and shutting it.

Fresh tears swell in Eddie’s eyes as his lip quivers. He looks to the ceiling and swallows roughly, choking back a sob. “Well isn’t that nice?” he rasps, tears threatening to spill over. Pushing past Steve he walks out the back door to his van, kicking the tires and throwing himself down on the ground, his back leaned against the front tire as Steve makes his way out of the back door.

Steve approached with caution, breath tight in his chest, “Can we talk, please? Like adults? Eddie, I didn't want to hurt you!” He begged.

“Didn’t want to? Or didn’t care about hurting me?” Because the Steve Harrington I know wa—wasn’t, oh who gives a fuck anyway?”

“Eddie please! Jesus Christ I’m trying to explain what happened!”

“What happened is that you are married!” Eddie mourned, tears flowing steady now, “To a woman, and she’s having your baby— and by the looks of it she’s pretty fucking far along! Seven? Eight months?”

Steve’s arms are crossed and he’s crying as he nods, brown tufts of hair glistening in the setting sun, “why do you think I came to visit you over Christmas break? I was trying to tell you then, but you kicked me out!”

Eddie’s head is in his hands as he shakes his head.

“It didn’t— goddamnit, we were drunk, we had gone on a date and we got hammered, the next thing I knew I was balls deep and coming inside of her. She wouldn’t get the morning after pill, and she works for my dad, which is how I’m in this mess to begin with. H—He told me that if I were to date her that he’d give me the business, jets, cars, anything I’d wanted, don’t you see Eddie!?” Steve lowered himself down to his level and put his hands on his knees, “I did it for us!” Steve’s eyes are pleading with Eddie’s as he looks at the moss colored eyes. “We can be free.”

Eddie peels his head away from hands, a look of shock on his face, “You’re fucking joking right? You got a girl knocked up, married her all because your dad promised you a fucking jet?” His eyes were red and angry as he pushed himself up. His tongue pressed to his cheek and his fists balled tight. “Go back to your wife, Steve.”

“Eddie, wait.”

“Get. The fuck. Away from me.” Eddie says, pushing Steve hard in the chest with every word. “You traded what we had for the promise of money, and rich bullshit. I never wanted any of that! I only wanted you!” Eddie lands one last shove into Steve, sending him to the ground, he wincing at the pain from the concrete, “You made your bed, now lie in it.” Eddie spat at Steve’s body laying on the ground and stomped back inside, the sound of his boots echoing against the brick building.

Years have gone by and the two lovers never crossed paths again. Eddie had heard through Robin and Dustin that Steve and his wife had four or five kids, he couldn’t remember. He took over his dads business and resided on the golf course in Hawkins, trophy wife and beautiful kids in tow living their life of luxury. Eddie and Corroded Coffin toured around America, even a short stint in Europe. No matter how many women he buried himself in, the staggering amount of mind altering drugs he consumed on an hourly basis— the pick necklace still hung around his neck as a reminder of the year under the stars with Steve Harrington.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #steve x you #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #steddie #steddie smut #steddie fluff #steddie angst #steddie fanfic #steddie fan fiction #eddie munson angst #steve harrington fanfic

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ayo-galitzine · 11 months

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wilmon childhood friends tree house au fic!!

i've been obsessed with this fic idea that @grapehyasynth posted a while ago about simon and wille being neighbors and childhood friends and finding a safe space in simon's backyard treehouse as they grew up together, posted here, go read it and also all her other amazing yr prompts

i've been working on a fic for it!! it's not quite finished, it's at 4k words right now and i think it'll be 10-15k when it's done (it was supposed to be short LOL) but i wanted to share a lil sneak peek of the beginning because i'm really excited about it!!!

i'm hoping i'll be finished with it in a week or two but enjoy this snippet

"The tree house is just how Wille remembers it.

The makeshift ladder is still made up of exactly seventeen wooden planks, one after another nailed haphazardly into the wide trunk of the oak tree, the same number he and Simon had counted years ago. Each is warped and weather-bent beneath his hands as he climbs upwards, finding the nail that is still loose in the crooked fifth step and promises to send him scrambling and falling back onto the green grass of Simon’s backyard if he doesn’t skip past it. At the top, the edges of the fourteenth plank are still rough enough to scatter his fingers with splinters, if he didn’t know better.

Wille reaches the top rung of the ladder, muscle memory maneuvering his arms and legs through the opening of the treehouse with no trouble. He ducks his head to avoid the makeshift beams of the low roof and breathes in the familiar smell of dry, unfinished plywood.

As if to welcome him back, a ray of sunshine filters through the window to his left, illuminating the dust that has risen up into the air, disturbed after far too many months of stillness. Past the honey-yellow light and through the window, he can see the picket fence that separates his parents' yard from Simon’s, and beyond it, the clean, white siding of his childhood house, interrupted on the third floor by the window to his old bedroom, the curtains drawn closed.

The sun stretches and rests to Wille’s right, just below the other window of the tree house, which overlooks the home that Simon grew up in. Wille has memorized the sight of its flat roof, Linda's garden of bright flowers that line the edges of the foundation, and the stone path that leads up to the green, flapping screen door. Simon’s bedroom is somewhere just down the hall and off to the right of that door. From inside, Wille knows, there is a perfect view of the tree house window.

So, when he finds the gnarled, knotty walking stick leaning in the back corner, the faded and wind-beaten red bandana still tied tightly to it, he stands it up in the window, and he waits.

He waits, sliding down against the back wall, trying hard to ignore the quick beating of his heart and the flutter in his stomach. Instead, he stretches out his legs, watching how far out his feet now reach, the soles of his sneakers almost bumping up against the opposite edge of the tree house.

It had been years ago now that he had sat in this exact spot and felt so small, and these wooden walls so big and tall around him. For so long, his world was narrowed down to this space, to the moment he finished his climb and reached the top of the ladder, his lungs breathless and his cheeks streaked with dirt, always dreading when he was forced to lower his feet back onto the ground. Back then, away from the tree house, the rest was merely the in-between, hardly important enough to be remembered.

It had been years since, but it felt like only yesterday he had been that young and that able to pick and choose what was important.

Wille hears shoes scuffing against the tree trunk, growing closer.

He had been young and his world had been small, but he had never been alone in it.

Curly hair peeks over the entrance of the tree house first, followed by bright eyes and a soft smile, and then all the rest of the boy who was once Wille's best friend is climbing into the treehouse.

Wille pitches forward, wrapping his arms around Simon before he can second guess himself. "Hi, Simon."

Simon's own arms are warm and tight around Wille as he laughs into his shoulder. "I can't believe you remembered our signal." Simon pulls back, and Wille is all too aware of Simon's hands slipping from his shoulders as they lean away from each other. "You could have just texted me."

Wille scoffs at even the suggestion.

He can still remember the afternoon they had sat on the floor of the tree house, knees nearly brushing as Simon had pulled from his back pocket the red bandana he had stolen from Sara's room. He'd ducked his head and said, "we can hang it in the window so we'll know if either of us is in here and wants to hang out."

That red bandana, and eventually the walking stick, too, which Wille found walking home one day, became the reason he would rush back from school and up the stairs to his room, throwing his backpack onto the floor and peering out his bedroom window. On the weekends, he sat at his desk with his head resting on his chin, tapping his pen off-beat against his school notebooks and sheets of homework, staring out at the tree line, waiting for the flash of red. When it appeared, he was out of his house and halfway across the lawn before anyone could stop him.

There were the days, too, when Wille was the first to duck into the empty tree house first, and found himself wondering why his heart thundered so hard as he propped their signal up and hoped it wouldn't take Simon too long to notice.

The red flag began, like most everything between them, Wille supposes, as something innocent. An invitation to hang out, to say, hurry up! I have a story to tell! or come see this cool thing I want to show you!

But somewhere along the way, unexpectedly, it grew to mean more. It was a way to send words that couldn't otherwise be shared between them. To silently offer up the things that were stuck in their throats. To say, I'm sorry. I miss you.

I need you here.

To Wille, it grew to mean everything.

"Of course I used our signal," Wille says. "Why wouldn't I?"

#young royals #yr fic #this beginning part might end up edited more #hope i can have it finished soon!!!

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lorei-writes · 3 months

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Halcyon Among Hills

Chapter I: The Gentleman

Clavis x Reader Alternative Universe "Mystery" Premise: The death of your great-grandfather comes with an inheritance hefty enough to pay off your family's debt. While dealing with the financial matters himself, your father sends you to your great-grandmothers estate, to properly show your gratitude... However, things aren't quite the way they should be. Word Count: ~1k Masterlist

Once upon a time I've drafted an AU for @rinaririr . In turn, she drew this wonderful art. This story has been inspired and written for Rina <3

Content Warnings: none

The coach sways evenly, a boat with the gentlest winds in its sails, the few uneven stones in the track of the wooden wheels the sole wayward waves wishing to disturb the pace of your journey. Chin propped in your hand and elbow resting over the windowsill, you gaze past the glass, the scenery floating by languidly. Old tenements line the streets, distinguished ladies in various shades of the fashionable yellow swarming the milliner’s display, the bustles upholding their skirts vibrating as if in a state of resonance.

“But father, cannot this wait? I am most certain it’d be preferable for us both to pay the visit to dear great-grandma. She must be feeling lonely now that great-grandpapa has died, you see.”

“No, darling, it cannot. Go ahead by yourself, lest you wish for even the inheritance to be of insufficient aid to us. I shall join you in three weeks, however, so be not worried.”

***

You blink.

You do not need any of that.

A curious thing happens in this blinking, however, for it has the time rush. The hustle’s grip over the carriage loosens, and soon enough you are released into the countryside, to then skip past the fields and enter the forest, to traverse the remnants of the beaten paths… Or at the very least, that is how it feels to you, for you have never left the city before. Alas (thankfully?), the duty calls. Sit you must, so sit you do, and you take in the sights previously unseen, to your eyes’ content. The green is greener than the emeralds of your dear maternal aunt, the azure plains above somehow are more than just a sky; the bark is more abrasive, for it scratches you even without being touched. Outwardly bored, you take in the world with marvel of an adult newborn.

The sun has begun to lay its head at the hills by the time you arrive at your great-grandmother’s estate. You take that with a hearty dose of displeasure; however, between your numb legs and the ant nest you must have apparently stepped into, it may be for the better. Any more excitement and who knows, perhaps you’d be as daring as to personally inspect the grounds at night. The coach rocks one last time to then fall silent among the calm.

The lights are lit inside the mansion, although you do dare wonder why. Is it not too late a time to host guests? Or… Perhaps, there is another visitor staying the night. As if to answer you, voices overfill the estate, the door-dam bursting, unable to hold back the almighty laughs.

“Of course, ‘Ma! Of course! Haven’t you seen me when I was but a little boy? Tell dear Cyran I was not the cutest creature underneath the sun!”

Your eyebrows raise, as do your suspicions. Cautiously, you exit the carriage, the coachman removing your luggage from the trunk.

“Um… Good Sir, may I ask you a question? For I take it was my great-grandmother who has sent you, and thus you must be familiar with her.”

“ ‘Course, I am. Old lady’s been hiring me since the dawn of time, whenever that was. What is it, Ma’am?”

You throw a cautious glance over your shoulder, hands gripping at your skirt. “That gentleman, he…?”

“Dearie me, introductions? Clavis Lelouch, at service for the beautiful lady.” A whisper nuzzles against the nape of your neck, hot breath caressing the shell of your ear, falling behind your collar like a spring mizzle. Your heart skips a beat and then a dozen more, your blood boiling water exposed to the sternest frost. You seem to evaporate, however, you do re-crystallise, some magnanimous hands removing the gentle cause of your trouble from behind your back.

“Sir Clavis, please, contain yourself…” a man groans.

You turn on your heel, gravel grumbling underneath the sole of your shoe. At the same time, it appears less troubled than the ginger man whose fingers still perch on the shoulder of the young gentleman from just a second ago. He stares at you, although you cannot quite decide whether he is more dejected or apologetic; conversely, you are most certain the astute golden eyes of Clavis Lelouch have not been tainted with any such impurities as remorse. He smiles at you, a basilisk hypnotizing his prey.

Clavis takes a step towards you.

You do not dare move, his fingers hooking below your chin to force you to meet his gaze.

“Welcome to our town. Please, make sure to make ‘Ma smile. She’s been rather down for… a long time, you see,” Clavis says, in a voice low enough that it excludes anybody else from hearing a word. Something wavers in his eyes, but you do not get a chance to question that. His hand drops away from you, your great-grandmother’s voice cooling the scalding embarrassment that near blisters your skin.

“Dearie? Is that you?”

“Yes, great-grandmama!” you reply, as earnest as a callow student yet to experience the life of a school.

“It’s been too many years, too many! When have you grown so much? Ah, I swear… ‘Pa and I should have visited the town more often, but alas…”

A hand pushes at the small of your back. You turn your head towards it owner, Clavis staring down at you with a smile bright enough to dispel the night.

“Isn’t that joyous then, ‘Ma? You have got plenty to discuss. I shan’t occupy you any longer then, but worry not. We will meet again soon enough,” he laughs, each word falling into you as into a cave, echoing deep within the crevices of your mind. You do not get to say anything, however. The moment your lips choose to part, Clavis Lelouch is already gone.

That is how you arrive at your destination, to set off on the very first adventure of your life.

You've seen a typo? Let me know!

Tag List: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @pathogenic @fang-and-feather @tele86 @rinaririr @keithsandwich @cheese-ception @bis-enti @claviscollections @queengiuliettafirstlady @sh0jun

Tell me if you'd like to be added to my tag list :)

#clavis lelouch #ikepri clavis #ikemen prince clavis #ikepri #ikemen prince #ikemen series

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freetobeeyouandme · 3 months

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Chapter 2: At Least the "Prophecy" Comes With a Free Sword

The next chapter of my Byler Isekai AU is now up on Ao3! Mike meets the rest of the gang, has an audience with the village kook, and learns how to get home...sort of.

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

The group’s worry about his appearance feels a little overstated as they make their way down to the village, avoiding the main road in favor of a beaten path through the fields, and then don’t even really enter the village. Will’s parents’ cottage sits at the outskirts of the town, not as far away as the farms but still not nestled close to the other houses. Behind it there is only a large backyard, fenced in with wooden poles that have seen better days, and then only fields and trees. A little herb garden sits beside it and a large oak tree with a little weathered swing, rocking happily in the breeze, sits out front.

As they reach the front door, Will takes the lead.

The door opens on the smell of something hearty and savory – stew, Mike thinks, although he can’t place the type – and a warm voice calling out: “Hi, sweetheart. You guys are back early.”

Will steps inside, holding the door for the rest of them. El slips in past him, tearing off her cloak as she does. The others gesture for Mike to follow, so he does, even though the thought of meeting even more new people has him feel suddenly very tired. Part of him wishes the party was on the road on their own and he just had to contend with them at a camp fire. The other part of him misses his mother and wants some warm food to comfort him.

The layout of the house seems to be as simple as its exterior. The entrance opens into a big room with a kitchen in the back, a dining table almost in the entry, and a couple armchairs and a couch in front of a fireplace to the far side. A hallway branches of right beside the kitchen, leading towards the back of the house. In the kitchen stands a blue-scaled Dragonborn woman with her back to them, stirring stew in a large cauldron over an open fire. Another Dragonborn, this one with purple scales like Will, hunches over the table, writing something.

He dips his quill into the ink before him, briefly glancing up as they enter, then at his paper and then, with his hand frozen above the page, looks back up at the group in the doorway with wide eyes trained on Mike.

And Mike understands the feeling.

“I’m guessing your meeting didn’t-” the Dragonborn woman begins and breaks off as she similarly turns to the group and counts one more among them than had left the house.

Will, without preamble, grabs the hood at the back of Mike’s head and pulls it free to reveal his face.

El takes no note of the way the mood perceptibly shifts from warm to something…not quite less welcoming but certainly more tense. She drapes her cloak over one of the free chairs and makes her way beside the Dragonborn woman, sniffing the stew. “Smells good.”

The woman smiles at her, brushing her short hair affectionately with a claw-tipped hand, and says: “I just put it on, so you’ll have to wait until later.” A little less affectionately she nods at Mike: “Who is he?”

El shrugs. “Human. Is Hop still out back?”

The woman sighs. “Yes, your father’s still out back. Where did you find a human?”

At the mention of El’s elusive father Mike tenses, remembering Lucas asking him about some capital ‘F’ father earlier. He hopes it’s not the same guy. The Eleventh of the Circle and the Crown Prince seem like enough main characters to meet in one day. He really doesn’t have to add the Father, whoever he is,to the list.

Beside him, Will steps forward, gesturing towards Mike. “Mom, Jonathan, this is Mike, he fell through a portal by accident. Mike, this is my brother, Jonathan, and my mother.”

Mike feels a little awkward as he waves. “Hi.”

Jonathan rises to his feet, waves equally awkwardly, and then disappears towards the back of the house.

Will’s mother crosses the room and offers Mike her hand. She clasps his warmly and it’s almost not strange even though her skin feels as leathery and cold as her son’s. “It’s nice to meet you, Mike.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs., uh-”

“Byers,” she replies. She squeezes his hand before moving on towards her son. Placing a hand on top of his head the way she had just done with El, she says: “Your father won’t be pleased to hear this, though. We had a visitor just after you left, and well…”

She doesn’t elaborate, but she doesn’t have to. As the party behind Mike spreads out, hanging up their cloaks and beginning to loiter around the room, a door slams at the back of the house and then someone complains, loudly: “No, no, no. No, no, no, no!”

Jonathan returns first, taking a place against the back wall. “Hope you guys have figured out who to blame for this already,” he says. It sounds like a joke.

Mike hopes it’s a joke.

Unofficial Tag List (aka you interacted with my snippet posts, please tell me if you want me to not tag you in the future (or want to be added)): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @willthelies @foodiewithdahoodie @doggo9 @gardenfairie @beelikesbyler @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday @oldfashionedmorphine @total-serene560 @bylersrise @hawkinsunderground @longtallglasses @generalstorecashier @usnaavi @camel-casing @bylersbear01

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #kingslayer fic

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randomfoggytiger · 8 months

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X-Files Collector's Edition: Fics That Deserve More Comments (Part II)

These fics have an atmospheric je ne sais quoi to them that pulls me in every time-- clean and cutting, gentle and soothing. I adore them all; and definitely believe they need more attention.

Loose chronological order below~

saltringangell's the time it would take (to fix my heart)

""And she wants to tell him- or wanted to tell him at least. Let him know that watching him with someone else brought up something she can’t place yet; something she is terrified of. That watching him with Diana was almost worse than if he told her he didn’t feel the way she did at all.

But then he’s sobbing, unapologetic and earnestly, and the image is wiped from her mind.

“Let me help you.”

A noise wracks from him that makes her skin crawl, her chest lurch. It reminds her of the first time she had seen her father cry; a stripping of innocence, a breaking of a barrier. Watching something break apart in front of you with no warning and no safety net to catch the fall. It makes her instinctively grab the side of his face, burying her hands into his hair.

She allows herself to let him fall apart. She doesn’t move to shush him or to whisper sweet nothings in his ear. She doesn’t give herself the luxury of calming him, just grabs hold and lets him fall apart.""

AU-- Post The End Mulder is only responsive enough to beg Scully into his car, where her comfort finally cracks him. She works through their fears, her hurt; and steadies him through his breakdown.

@muldertxf's (Ao3)

Dark Fear, Chapter 2

""Mulder looked down at Scully, then back at the woman. Cheryl was like a hideous neon beacon amidst a sea of yellow light. It almost hurt to look at her. His pupils receded into green. “Uh, yeah. More specifically, your husband’s case of events. May we speak to him?”

A light bulb burst in the right corner beneath a red, white, and blue striped lampshade.""

S1 Scully and Mulder interview a skittish abductee. She chalks his state up to other factors whereas her partner is awed by the experience, eagerly driving them to the abduction site.

flutter, pt. 2 (Ao3)

""Mulder shakes his head, begins walking down the cracked sidewalk. “Doesn’t matter, Scully,” he replies, his back to her. She follows him. “I had doubts about him anyway, but it was worth a try. Sorry to intrude.”

“No, you didn’t…you didn’t intrude, Mulder. I was surprised to find you there if anything. But not offended,” Scully reassures. He keeps walking. “Mulder. Do you need a ride?”

There’s a pause, and he slows, turning to face her once more.""

S1 Scully is surprised that Mulder stumbles across her path after a no-show witness; and offers to drive him home after he ends their dance and begins to withdraw.

Descension, Part 5 (Ao3)

""Warm light stung her. Every which way she turned, something felt illuminated. Too bright. It would frighten her if it didn’t annoy her so much.... And something weird, notable–she’d dreamt of her father last night.

When she arrived to work, Mulder was not at the bureau early like usual. Baffling. She had beaten him for once.

Scully’s heels uttered muffled clacks against the flooring, as she made her way to place a book in front of a basement window. Carefully, she stepped over the spiral notebook. It seemed that’s all she’d been doing since yesterday.... The sense that something was not as it seemed still gnawed at her insides, like an animal, but she ignored it.

Her gaze fixed on the spiral notebook. Kneeling down, she plucked it from its resting place and flipped it open to make another attempt at reviewing her partner’s written notes.

The bleary feeling began to cross her frame again.

It was blank.""

Pre-One Breath Scully is caught in a hallucination-- Mulder (or not Mulder) and she are investigating a case... but little tiny things are off.

11:11 (Ao3)

""This assignment feels asinine to me, too. But we have to do it. Kersh isn’t too happy with your little chase , recently.” She flashed a hand into a ray of streetlight to gesture to her ear.

That case had been a real headache , Scully thought. But she’d never say that to him--she knew the effect being held captive had on a person. It wasn’t joke material.""

Post Drive Mulder is withdrawn on a muggy stakeout. Scully banters and makes a silent wish.

beginning of season 6 drabble thing

""You think aliens eat cold food only?”

An expression of sheer confusion contorted her face like a snake bite. Her crimson lips pouted, mindlessly chewed swollen, now stuck outward. “Is this your weird way of asking me to lunch?”

“No, no--listen,” He said, rotating his chair towards the basement door to fully face her. “But I mean, if you want to, we could, um...”

A sigh deflated from her small frame. “Just go on, Mulder.""

S6 Mulder throws pencils and asks asinine questions distract him and Scully from their scutwork. She cuts his misery short and sends him home.

No Small Feat (Ao3)

""Scully had remarked, in the way only a weathered pathologist could, that it was kind of funny how the town kept the attractions going despite the grizzly brutalities. Mulder couldn’t find any humor in such a scenario. This cold front had locked those gates, shut down the rides, and effectively stuck its tongue in their faces, as far as Mulder was concerned.

Scully had effectively shut him out, eyes locked on the faded yellow trailer that stalled just ahead. On its license plate, party balloons danced behind a metal string of numbers and letters, all chipped just slightly. She briefly considered honking the horn to hasten the driver. There were only two routes one could take here and said driver’s blinkers didn’t hint anything. She bit her lip.""

S6 Scully is impatient with their failure on a case; but both she and Mulder stumble across the killer clown anyway-- and he makes a break for them with an axe.

A Drabble relating to The Sixth Extinction

""Dana Scully’s voice was a shot in the dark, a pulverizing sear through his tender flesh and bone.

“Mulder, if you never come out of this,” she had droned rather forcefully, weaponizing her dry voice as a barrier against bitter tears, “that I fed your fish this whole time. You owe me.” She laughed emptily.

He bit sharply into the lethargic ice cube that had sunk him, and his irises methodically swam up to meet hers. He clung onto her baby blues like a life raft. His one in five billion.""

Amor Fati Scully sits by Mulder's bed, unaware that he is aware but still believing in a nagging feeling at the back of her head.

Sea Waves (Ao3)

""Do you really believe people have seen a hippocampus out here, Scully?”

The ship rocks and Scully’s grip on the railing falters a bit; she readjusts. “Don’t you? Why are we out here then, Mulder?” she questions, scrunching her brows in annoyance, “Was falling off our boat deliberate? That shirt is ruined.” She giggles despite her attempt of seriousness.

“Look, I’ve got dramamine, Scully. I won’t be seasick. There’s no shortage on plain white work-shirts, and…” Mulder’s speech drawls off into nothing, as he realizes in horror, that his tie’s disappeared.""

Post Millennium Mulder lures Scully out on a boat-- not for a case. Just to enjoy watching her have a good time.

define humor (Ao3)

""He simply stares at her, lips sucked in. It’s not nausea, he realizes, it’s...

Hilarity.

Mulder’s shoulders are jerking up and down and his eyes are squinting. A tear tracks down his cheek, and Scully looks on in horror. Rip-roaring laughter tears through the silence. None of this is funny, none of it should be, he tells himself. My sister is dead. The thought makes his sides ignite in flames. My sister is dead!""

Post Closure Mulder is struggling with clashing sensations and emotions. Scully is horrified when the dam bursts, comforting and steadying her partner.

post En Ami

""Her eyes glow.

Scully imparts his first name in a whisper, and immediately his head snaps up in alert. “Come closer,” she breathes.

Mulder begins to slope his shoulders forward, to gear his pants seat to slide nearer, but he stops early. The black is all-encompassing, drowning both of them like a thick fog. Mulder stops moving, blindly reaching for his drink. His cheeks are warm.

“Scully, what’s going on? What’s wrong?""

Post En Ami Scully is unharmed; but turns the conversation away to begging then threatening Mulder not to go to Bellefleur. It wasn't her, after all.

Cheap Motels and Headaches

""He looked at the suspicious vehicle again and weighed the risks of running out there with a gun. Mulder’s hand fumbled to his waist instinctively.

It hit worn elastic.

If they were here...they were here. Mulder geared away from the bullpen, and back to reality, where the ceiling bared a pregnant bulge, and the carpet jumped with nats. Take me, he thought, anything but her. His face paled.

Then, hand in the cookie jar, the Cadillac zipped just out of sight of the dusty window. The AC wedged in the corner behind the door coughed.

Being on the run felt otherworldly.""

Post S9 Mulder and Scully are holed up in a motel room when his Biogenesis abilities return with a vengeance. His fear and aching sorrow and joy conflict when it allows him to hear how happy Will is.

One More Meeting (Ao3)

""She must do this. But before she could commit to the action, the door flew open.

Scully gasped, her hand locked to the spot where the handle had ripped from her now empty fist. She sensed him coming to the door. She should not be surprised, and yet here she was, eyes wide, and red-cheeked.

The boy unclenched his jaw before reaching forward to take her hovering hand. A wobbly smile met his lips. His palm was warm. She looked up at him, and he radiated something that tugged at her heart. Tall.""

Post Ghouli Jackson meets, comforts, and reassures Scully in New Jersey. He encourages her to stay with Mulder instead of pursuing him.

Kennel

""Do you need any help? Any pet preferences?” The teenager asks, resting her gel pen on the granite.

“We’re just looking right now, thanks,” Mulder replies, as Scully wanders off in his peripheral vision. A small grin crosses his face, “but we’ll let you know if we need something.""

Mulder loves watching Scully putz around an animal shelter; and loves being mistaken as an old married couple even more.

@oceanofthesky/noifsandsorbees's

By the Sea (Ao3)

""Long past Baltimore she tells him to get off the highway, to follow the twists and turns of a map she hadn’t realized she’d memorized until there is nothing but ocean ahead of them. Her body feels heavy when she slips out of the passenger seat, as if the new growth inside her has doubled her weight, but she pushes forward, drawn to the eerie whisper of the calm water.

She hasn’t been back here since she said goodbye to her father so many years ago, but she suddenly needs to know the secrets he took away with him. His ashes are a mere memory in the sea’s veins, yet she trudges through the rocks and grass until the ice water is nearly running over her shoes, as if he’ll be standing there waiting for her.""

Post Elegy Scully almost falls apart on a beach, drawn to her father's memory and his side in the great beyond. Mulder bolsters her, demanding she not give up yet.

this one was just titled per manum.

""She’s with him, but she’s thinking of infants and angels, and how maybe one day, in some inconceivable afterlife, she will be reunited with her little girl (the one she so rarely thinks about anymore; a stranger, really, but a stranger with her sister’s eyes and face and the smallest fingers she’s ever clasped in her own; a child always living on the edge of death but somehow at the same time her only chance for a future). She’s thinking that one day she’ll hold Emily somewhere resembling heaven, and she’ll be whole again.

But that, fittingly, would require her to believe, something she’s become less and less sure of how to do.""

Post IVF failure Scully is floundering; but realizes that Mulder is there to weather every loss with him-- that he's her constant, always.

holding on (Ao3)

""This month, she tells herself, she’ll finally refold each of his shirts into a nondescript box and drop it off at Goodwill, throw away his stockpile of newspapers, lock his door for the very last time. This is the month where she’ll stop falling asleep in his bed, searching and searching for what’s left of him in the sheets and waking up in tears she’ll wash away by breakfast.

But for now, she places the check into an envelope and scribbles his landlord’s address from memory.""

Deadalive Scully pays for Mulder's apartment again, still not able to bring herself to box up his things and move out.

Unnamed

""Just one, she pleads, and the only image he can conjure is her rising from the bed and walking out the door, so he swallows hard, nods, and tries to narrow the worlds he’s created into the one that will hurt her least.

He has universes of memories that will never be, one for each star in the sky, for each breath in his lungs. And sometimes he thinks that's all he has, all he ever has had, a never ending dream of ‘what ifs’ that start to resemble happiness if he believes in them hard enough.

And he knows she realizes the depth of his imagination, of the possibilities he can conceive that will never rival reality, knows that one day he may get irreversibly lost inside himself. He almost wonders if she’d join him and they could build another reality between their minds — the clarity in which he knows she would is stunning, alarming. He wants to warn her to run, but he supposes she already is, she’s running and he’s a decade too late (and when really has he not been too late?).""

Post S9 Mulder wants to spare Scully as much as possible from the pain of missed happier lifetimes; but she clings to him, refusing to let him keep in his vast "what ifs" and memories.

together again. (Ao3)

""mulder, why would you take him? you scared me half to death,” she gasps and watches his eyes cloud over with sadness. she forgets that he doesn’t know, that she hasn’t yet had a chance to tell him everything. he can’t imagine a child alone in the middle of a crater of rubble, in the hands of strangers, anywhere but beside her.

she calms herself and moves toward mulder, lets him wrap his arms around them both.

“i can’t stop looking at him,” mulder whispers against her. “he’s just so big.”

“you’re here,” she whispers back, her heart finally having slowed, allowing her to remember what a miracle his presence is.""

AU-- Post S9 Scully wakes, panicked, thinking Mulder and Will are gone. She's calmed finding them both engaged in Mulder's bedtime stories.

Sunrise (Ao3)

""He still doesn’t understand her energy so early in the morning, somehow always fully awake and ready to take on the day, with an optimism and flirtiness that often mellows as the day goes on. He stands up and throws their comforter tight around him as he walks off to the living room.

The walls are bare and the floor is dotted with thrift store furniture they’ve found in the last week and what few possessions they have left. Scully is hunched over the unnaturally heavy couch, pushing it a few inches at a time as it catches on the uneven planks of their new home.""

Pre-IWTB Mulder is baffled that Scully thrives as an early bird, reluctantly joining her furniture-rearranging shenanigans.

open door. (Ao3)

""miss you,” he mumbles... and then he falls back asleep. she closes her eyes and prays this means he’s finally fighting for them; he slips away by morning.

months pass before he surprises her again, after dozens of trips to their little house and talks that seem to go nowhere, after too many nights pleading with god to bring him back to her.""

Breakup-- Scully leaves Mulder a key, hoping he'll drop in on better days.

xf revival ficlet

""it’s only week two back on the job, but mornings like these are muscle memory, being awoken too early and packing through half-closed eyes, her body following his without quite knowing why it couldn’t wait until sunrise. she dreads his middle-of-the-night calls, because he’s dangerous when she’s half asleep, too much like home for her to keep a proper distance....

it couldn’t wait until morning, because it matters too much to him, their cases and the answers to their mysteries and her, always her. everything and everyone but himself, she reminds herself as she drifts off to the rhythmic beating of the storm, grateful that he is once again finding his footing in the world.""

Revival Mulder and Scully reacquaint themselves with each other while on their long road trips. She lengthens their time together, knowing how much Mulder craves these moments.

of adventures and goodbyes (and once about the family they left behind).

""1994. He comes to Maryland to send his father out to sea one last time, a sight far more familiar than welcoming him home. Charlie sleeps on Dana’s couch and she wakes him in the middle of the night, making him sit up so she can lean against him, so they can stifle their tears into each other’s shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he whispers. “I wasn’t even that close to him. I don’t know what I’d do if it was mom. If was you.”

“If it was Melissa,” Dana finishes, and they both feel like children once again. He clings to her harder.""

Post Home Again Scully relates Charlie's heartbreak and distance after Melissa's death, fearing that it's too late to reach out. Mulder, hopeful man that he is, encourages her.

White Noise (Ao3)

""There are always two clocks running in his head. Every glimpse of his watch followed by an automatic, nearly subconscious subtraction.

It’s eight a.m. here, six there. She’s just waking up, shuffling toward the shower in a silk robe, boiling water for tea on the stove as she stirs pollen into her yogurt. Nine p.m. and she’s running a bath, her dinner roasting in the oven. One a.m. and her eyes are fluttering closed, her breathing soft in his ear as he drifts off.

She calls him as soon as she gets home each night and they don’t say much. He turns on speakerphone and leaves his phone on the kitchen table as he washes dishes, next to him on the couch as he throws on a movie, cradled against his ear as he falls asleep. It’s almost like she’s there.""

AU-- FTF Scully is still reassigned after she and Mulder make the next step in their relationship. They weather a long-distance relationship, connecting over the phone while he works furiously to get her back.

I've Got To See The Stars (Ao3)

""What are you up to?”

“Just trying to sleep.”

“Wanna hold off on that a bit?”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s get out of the city for a few hours.”

“Scully, we just got back to the city this afternoon, or did you already forget about Indiana?”

She ignores him. “Pick me up in ten.”

“Okay.""

Post The Unnatural Scully calls, asking Mulder to drive out to a field with her. He's amused; and both stare at the stars without any way to figure out constellations.

5./21. mulder/scully

""And on some subconscious level you know, have always known, that you’re the cause of whatever innocence, whatever tenderness he has left; you’re the reason his heart is still beating and his eyes are ever-hopeful. Your medical degree is useless next to the effect of your mere presence, your stubborn instinct to believe in him even if you question all that he accepts.""

Post Millennium Scully knows what makes Mulder happy, refusing to take the generous out he provides for her.

Scully makes Mulder breakfast for the first time

""she pushes the eggs around in the saucepan and curses mulder for not having any oil in his pantry, no butter in his fridge, not even any bacon to give it some grease. she had considered, and then quickly dismissed, coating the pan with juice, and instead left hot water running over a bottle of ketchup hoping to work the crust off the lid.

and really, why did mulder even have eggs if he didn’t have anything else in there to make them taste better? four eggs, half a gallon of expired orange juice, the unopenable ketchup and a frozen pizza barely gave her anything to work with after he turned to her in bed and whined please, my physician ordered me not to take these painkillers without food, raising his arm as high as the sling would let him to prove he couldn’t cook for himself.""

Post Millennium Scully tries to make Mulder breakfast... but a Mulder fridge is filled with many useless things.

Sunday Morning

""She rolls away from Mulder, who has nudged one knee between her and the edge of the bed and is bouncing like a child.

“Sculllllllly,” he whines.

“fivemoreminutes” she mumbles, turning to lie fully on her other side, her right hand reaching behind her to pull him along....

He stares at the clock on her nightstand for exactly five minutes.

“It’s time to wake up now,” he whispers the second the clock changes.""

Dating-- Mulder wakes Scully up with a present: a "case" in Maui.

ok, i still find this so cute. this is from a random group os s7 vignettes i never finished.

""Mulder guessed a letter wrong and she moved to add the final alien foot, but not before Mulder pushed her hand away, as if not letting her finish would prolong his defeat. But she fought back and ended up drawing a balloon-like circle across half the page....""

Skinner is highly amused that Scully is the person to instigate a silent alien hangman game in the middle of boring presentation.

@gingerstorm101/Gingerstorm101/dana_katherine_sculder's

The New Hen House

""Wha- what are you doing?”

“Finishing up the new chicken coop.” He said matter-of-factly. “Do you like it?”

She walks around it, taking it in. “I don’t know what to say.” What could she say to such a thing? Maybe living in the middle of nowhere was a good idea after all. “You built this all while I was at work?” She can’t take her eyes off it.""

IWTB Mulder updates his chicken coop with light-up UFOs.

Beautiful

""He leans back in his seat as she joins him at the picnic table beside one of the venders. He tried, but he can’t keep it in. He had to tell her. “You are so beautiful when you smile.”

She doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t have to. The smile radiating off her is all he needs to see. It makes her ever the more beautiful.""

Revival Mulder's admiration of Scully pushes them into a little bubble of happiness.

Picture of You

""There is a knock on the door.

His head shoots up, eyes wide. “Just a minute!” The nurse calls to the people on the other side of the door. She hands him back the photo of his wife and he dries his eye quickly. She waits until he’s ready for company before she makes her way to the door and slowly opens it.

“Excuse me,” He hears a small familiar voice. “Is my Daddy here?” He wants to start crying again, ashamed at thinking of leaving the little girl behind.""

AU-- Post Finale Mulder is diagnosed with terminal cancer. His heart bleeds for his two children, pouring out his pain and sorrow to a sympathetic nurse. (This is a tearjerker for me.)

@stellagibsonisalifeforce's Unnamed

""This morning, Black Friday for everyone else, Mulder let Scully sleep in a little while he went for a run in the rain. He brought back coffees, a bear claw for himself, and a toasted bagel with regular cream cheese for her. After, they started to dig the Christmas decorations out of of the basement.""

Revival Mulder and Scully set up their Christmas decorations, pal around with Daggoo, and miss Maggie's presence.

Thank you for reading~

Enjoy!

#txf #fic #Collector's Edition #Fics That Deserve More Comments #Part II #xf fanfic #x-files #xfiles #muldertxf #gingerstorm101 #dana_katherine_sculder #stellagibsonisalifeforce #saltringangell #noifsandsorbees #oceanofthesky #mine #Mulder #Scully #Skinner

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childotkw · 1 year

Note

Though I’m loving the lucemond turn your tumblr has taken (ruination is a masterpiece even though it only has one (1) chapter), can we talk more about that albus x Harry x Gellert AU? Any new headcanons or snippets on that front?

Sorry about the delay! I don't know about masterpiece but it definitely fun to write and share - everyone's been so nice about it so far :D

It's been a while since I've thought about Stepped Off The Beaten Path, but I'm sure I can scrounge up some words for you 💕

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

"Where on earth have you brought me?" Gellert muttered, shaking his boot to try and clear some of the thick mud clinging to it. Not that it would do much good, given that it had rained last night and the road they appeared on was made of the stuff.

Harry watched, mildly amused, but didn't answer him. Instead, he looked over the fields and farmland around them until the crops eventually gave way to the rough structures and houses that made up Godric's Hollow.

Home, in all the ways that didn't count. If life had been kinder, in his time, Harry might have grown up knowing every stone and brick and tree of this place. Now though, he was as much a stranger to it as Gellert was.

"Come on," he ordered, setting off down the muddy track that would bring them to town.

"You are being awfully mysterious," Gellert remarked, trotting obediently behind. It had surprised Harry when they had first met, how easily the man took directions. Considering just who Gellert ended up becoming, Harry had expected more protest, more pushback...anything but this mellow compliance and willingness to follow Harry across the country without question.

Then again, Gellert was also operating under the assumption that Harry was some kind of death god or reaper or whatever, so that probably played a role.

"It's part of my charm," Harry murmured, his attention hardly on their conversation now that they had reached the edge of the town. He was tempted to just cut to the chase and cast a spell - but that would be suspicious.

He sighed, tipping his head back and staring at the dull grey sky.

No. If he wanted Gellert and Albus to meet, it would have to be natural. Casual. Dragging one right to the other's doorstep would just put them both on the defensive.

Harry groaned loudly, his headache compounding as he shoved his previous, poorly-constructed plan to the side and started on the next, hopefully more successful, one.

"Do you want to see if there's a hotel here, or do you want to just stay in our tent outside of town?" he asked, turning to Gellert.

The blond wizard paused, frowning as his sharp little mind started to run. Harry was content to let Gellert think, but right at that second he registered the presence right behind him.

He stiffened, then twisted on his heels and came face-to-face with a very familiar, though painfully young, man.

Oh shit, Harry thought, his eyes widening.

"Good morning," Albus Dumbledore, sixteen and bright-eyed, greeted. He smiled kindly at Harry, brushing some of his auburn hair out of his face. "I couldn't help but overhear - did you need directions to the inn?"

#anonymous #HP #Stepped Off The Beaten Path AU #gellert x harry x albus #god #this is such a crack au hahahah #albus popped out of the ground like a jack-in-the-box

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royallyprincesslilly · 1 year

Text

Title: Crown For Two {9}

Henry Cavill AU x OFC Xari Thornton

Warning: Mild Cursing, Cheesy Christmas Themes, Fluff,

Words: 8.2k

Summary: Xari Thornton is a travel photographer with a blog and social media that garners some heavy-duty traffic. People tune in to see where she is and what she’s doing there, all in hopes of either living vicariously through her or to plan their next vacation.

Her slogan: “Traveling the path to the most off-beaten places, so you don’t have to.”

Her next stop on her four-destination travel itinerary of “Places You May Never Have Heard Of” is Sandvell, a small European country. When her plane makes an impromptu stop due to bad weather, she has no idea where she is. It feels like she’s stepped inside of a snow globe and back in time in a modern way. It leaves her fascinated.

This bad weather forces her to stay at an Inn, The Beaux, for the night. She explores and meets the friendly locals. One local in particular captures her lens with eyes as blue as the ocean and a jaw that was chiseled from stone. Once they separate, she gets herself into a harrowing situation.

As soon as she awakens, she realizes she’s not in some fever dream, but a palace and the owner of the palace is none other than the local she met before with the piercing blue eyes, His Royal Highness Henry Wellington Leopold Danglishton, First of his name, Crown Prince of Brexendor.

Note: AND WE’RE BACK!!! It’s December again which means we all need a cheesy Christmas romance. 😁 I know this has been gone for a long, long time and I am thankful for each of you who still care about it. As a reminder, it’s going to be fast-paced a bit, and I am gonna overload you with pictures because why the hell not, it’s a Christmas Fic. 😁 Feel free to come by and tell me what you guys think.

As always, thank you all for reading, I appreciate each and every one of you.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} | {6} | {7} | {8} |

-Y/N-

“Hey you’ve reached Neka. I’m too busy living my life the way I want to and can’t be bothered to answer. Leave a message and I’ll call you back. If I want to.”

You sighed hearing your sister’s very familiar voicemail message.

“Aneka, it’s me. Where are you? I get this place is obscenely huge and there is plenty to explore but pick up the damn phone. Let me know you’re okay.”

You ended the call and sighed again as you made sure you had everything in your purse. A few moments later, you stopped thinking again about going to this thing. Half of you was telling you it was a bad idea and that you should stay away from everything related to this country including its crown prince. However, the other side was traitorous and telling you to run carefree and live by the seat of your panties and take them off for said crown prince.

What’s the worst that could happen? You recognized the question from the carefree and often diabolical devil on your shoulder.

Humiliation and heartbreak are what. The words from the practical and cautious angel on the other side of your shoulder piped up.

You stood there thinking about both sides for a few moments then continued putting items into your purse.

Good girl, live a little, have some fun and get a few orgasms at the same time. Win/win. The devil was on a roll.

It is all fun and games until you get your heart broken by an actual prince who has obligations to be with someone other than you.

The angel’s words were like a gut punch. It was right.

MSG Aneka: I’m sorry RiRi. I’m going to this thing in the park. You should come I hear it’s a lot of fun.

Your sister never ceased to amaze you. She’d found out about the citizen’s Brexenavide on her own and was already in the thick of it. She had no problem going with the flow and having a good time when she saw it could be had. You sighed again, finally deciding to just do it. However, a few minutes after making the decision you scowled remembering who you’d be driving with.

There was something about this Freddie girl that rubbed you the wrong way. Something about her that screamed she was not to be trusted and that included enough to be in the same car. You groaned because you’d long left high school and the petty turf wars of petty bitches behind. You were an adult now who had bills and obligations and checking a rich bitch wasn’t one of them. A smirk spread across your face as you came to the realization that you were happy to rise to the occasion though. After looking yourself over, you divided to change. While your current outfit was cute, one look outside said you needed something warmer.

At that thought there was a knock at your door. When you opened it, you found a honey eyed member of the staff you recognized. She smiled and bowed her head slightly.

“Ms. Xari. I come with a message from Princess Jemma.”

Recognition hit you then, “Tamina, right?”

She smiled wider and nodded, clearly delighted you remembered her.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Come in, please.”

“No need ma’am. This is from the princess. She wanted you to have it for the event today. Her direct message is to wear it and it will ensure no one will be able to take their eyes off of you.”

What the hell did that mean? You reached out to Tamina and took the two garment bags that were lying across her forearms.

“Thank you, Tamina. Please thank the princess.”

Tamina bowed again before walking off. When you turned back into your room you staggered to the bed from the weight of the items in your arms and laid the bags across your bed. Unzipping the first one, your eyes widened at the sight of a chic, and beautiful outfit resting there. The items looked designer, and no doubt must have costed several thousand dollars. Your hand brushed against the shiny leather of the pants and instantly recognized it was high quality. It went perfect with the cropped knitted sweater that rested just atop it.

You didn’t know how Jemma knew you were a sucker for leather pants, but you were busting at the seams to try them on. Every woman needed a great pair of leather pants that made their ass pop. You reached for the second bag and opened it and gasped. A plush fur coat that brought the whole thing together waited for you to touch it. You were so tempted, and that temptation proved to be too much. When your fingers entangled in the fur, you cooed. It was perfect. Leather and fur, how luxurious, you thought.

When in Rome, or Brexendor. Live a little. The angel on your shoulder had a point. Within minutes, you’d peeled off your own clothing and changed into the ones sent by Jemma. Surprisingly they were a perfect fit. The moment you buttoned the pants you sighed. They were made for you. Once you’d pulled it all together, you stood in front of the full-length mirror in the room and surveyed your look from every angle. Every angle passed the test. You looked damn good. For the final test, you dropped down like you were doing the beat drop challenge and kept your eyes on your ass. A wide grin spread across your face.

“Thank you, Jemma!”

You hurried into the closet, remembering you’d already packed the perfect boots to wear with this outfit. When you’d packed, Aneka had made fun of you saying you were going to slip on a patch of ice and break your neck because of them. You didn’t bother telling her it would never happen because no one pays nearly nine hundred dollars for boots that were designed for cold weather in mind with the chance of said boots sending you to your death because they couldn’t hold up. You’d worn these two times before and they’d never failed you.

Standing in front of the mirror again, this time in the knee-high fur heeled boots you smirked. Jemma’s words came to mind then.

“Wear it and it will ensure no one will be able to take their eyes off of you.”

You wondered if Henry would be among those who couldn’t keep their eyes off of you. Memories of the night before flooded your mind and within seconds you were frozen reminiscing of the way his hands felt against your skin, the scent of his breath as he moaned against your ear, the taste of his lips and the intensity in his eyes when his locked with yours. You had to put a hand out to stabilize yourself because the thought of his body pressing on top of yours made your knees buck

With much effort, you pulled yourself back to reality. If you thought about him any longer you knew you’d be on edge all day which you guessed would be akin to torture. There was a nagging feeling inside of you that told you that you’d need to be alert today. After checking your make up once more, you grabbed your purse and phone then made your way downstairs. As you passed by the staff you stopped for small talk, inquiring about everyone’s health and thanking them for all they’d done for you thus far. Each of them looked surprised but more than happy to stop and chat with you.

When you stepped outside into the entry roundabout of the palace, you saw a long line of cars waiting and plenty of bustling bodies still in preparing mode for the departure. You watched the dignitaries load in their cars and pull off one by one. From the looks of all this pomp and flair, you knew this event was much more than just meeting the citizens. Perhaps this was a test of some sorts. You saw the man who’d been introduced as the prime minister do a quick perimeter check, surveying the around area before he looked in your direction. You expected him to get into the car as normal, but he didn’t. Instead, he stared in your direction and the longer he did the more the hairs on the back of your neck stood like your entire being was trying to tell you something about the man.

The feel of someone touching your left elbow startled you.

“My apologies Lady Thornton,” said one of the palace butlers.

“It’s all right.”

“Your car.”

His hand stretched to the left at a silver car with its door open and waiting. Through the window, you could see the woman who’d so eagerly offered herself and her car to get you to the event. You were under no false pretenses about her sincerity in doing so. There was something more to her supposedly kind offer. You weren’t in a hurry to find out just how much more but from the way you’d caught her looking at Henry the night of the ball you had your guesses. You allowed the butler to direct you to the car and see you inside.

As soon as you sat, the woman across from you pasted a smile on her face. It was one of those basic instinct smiles, a smile that housed a thousand lies, and a thousand and one daggers.

“Xari, darling!”

Your eyes widened. It had been a while since you’d been around this level of fake.

“Thank you offering to get me to the event,” you breached.

She smiled wider, if that was possible then leaned closer and took your hand in hers. “No thank you needed, dear. I have always been keen on helping those less fortunate.”

You heard the bells of a boxing match in your head. She’d started round one.

“Wow, um--.”

“What a cute outfit you’ve chosen for yourself. I worried your tastes would be too—tactless for what the Brexendor press are used to, but I am surprised to see tactlessness will be missing from the day, at least in your outfit.”

You cocked your head to the side. How did she manage to make so many insults sound so pleasant? You stifled a snort because thanks to your upbringing you’d been forced to go through debutant classes where you learned everything from etiquette to the art of polite disrespect. It was a southern thing. Those classes had prepared you to deal with the southern aunties, upper class grandmothers and quite a few socialites who thought they were better than everyone else because they had a trust fund and a rotation of cars for every day of the week.

You opened your mouth to speak but the door on the right of the car opened first. First it was your sister, Aneka who ducked inside and sat beside you, then Albee, the man with the pretty eyes from the ball who sat beside Freddie.

“Aneka?”

She looped her arm with yours and smiled. “I thought you’d left already?”

“I was but I got—distracted,” she said coyly smiling at Albee who smirked right back.

“What are you doing in my car, Albee? Though I know yours is far less luxurious than mine I am sure you have your own car,” Freddie cheeked.

Albee didn’t look fazed in the least, instead he smirked and made himself more comfortable in his seat. “Freddie you are aware that we are the same rank, correct?”

“Duchess Frederica,” she retorted through clenched teeth.

Albee scoffed. “Freddie. We’re all friends here, no need for titles. Only those who feel themselves more important than you truly are need to lean on such trivial things.”

Freddie glared at him with one brow raised.

“Since you are offering transport, I humbly accept your offer. Driver, carry on.”

Before Freddie could reply, the car took motion, and she didn’t look one bit happy about it. You and Aneka exchanged glances speaking through them as you usually did. You were tempted to bust out your secret language from when you were kids but didn’t want to come off as intentionally rude. This was a tit for tat game.

“And who are you?”

Freddie’s calculating eyes landed on Aneka, but she didn’t shrink back, Aneka instead raised her brow and put on a sugar sweet smile on her face.

“Aneka, Xari’s sister.”

Freddi’s eyebrow darted upward as she took both of you in. “So there are two less fortunate souls that need our charity.”

“The only thing unfortunate is your dye job. Did you pay for that?”

The fire in Freddie’s eyes sparked and you saw Aneka had struck a nerve. It was after all her specialty.

“Oh don’t tease dear Freddie about her hair. She loves it more than Jesus and little children,” Albee teased.

“Children are disgusting,” she added never taking her eyes off of Aneka.

“Interesting. That is not what I recall you telling the queen just a few weeks ago. What was it? Oh, I do so love children and cannot wait until I can become a mother. I do believe it is my life’s purpose.”

You couldn’t help but snort. Dipping your head to the side to hide in Aneka’s shoulder you snickered.

“I knew I scented fake on you, but I didn’t know it was this much of it,” Aneka added.

“Fake? Are we talking about fake as in your supposed Gucci shoes or perhaps that atrocity you call hair atop your head? That level of fake?”

Aneka lunged forward but your hand across her chest like a theme park ride safety bar stopped her.

“Ri, Aneka began but the look you gave her stopped any further words.

“So your hair is a sore topic? Remember that before you even attempt to go toe to toe with me.”

You could hear Aneka’s teeth grinding. You knew she had it in her to beat Freddie’s ass in record time then step out the car without so much as a scratch on her. However, this was not the place and definitely not the time. You didn’t want to offend the queen or the family especially with the level of hospitality they were currently showing you both.

“Take it easy Freddie. We wouldn’t want a repeat of what happened two Christmases ago. I don’t think the gossip would die down so quickly this time,” Albee cautioned.

The look Freddie gave him could have frozen anyone’s heart, but he didn’t look bothered at all. His smile was bright as he met the challenge of her icy gaze. It was clear that this was normal for the two of them. Either this was a huge scheme between them to dupe the newcomer or the two disliked each other.

“Why am I not surprised that you have found yet another commoner to slum it with. Do you not have any sense of pride or self-worth? Do you not feel them beneath you?”

Aneka made a move to lunge at Freddie again, but you held firmly to her and brought her attention to look out the window.

“Tsk, Tsk Freddie. Where is your decorum? My sense of pride and worth were never in question. Yours however—I can after all say I have never had a lifelong pursuit of someone who didn’t want me in the slightest bit.”

You tucked that bit of information away for when you were alone to dissect it. All conversation stopped and you pointed things out to Aneka. Everything you pointed out Albee took it upon himself to either explain or give backstory to. It was interesting the information he revealed about the country. It was clear from his voice he also loved his home. With every other sentence he spoke, Freddie had a snide remark for. Either it was something to make him look bad or to point out how out of bounds you were to even be here.

Thankfully, the car pulled into the destination when it did because you were quickly approaching the limit to your acceptance and ability to turn the other cheek. You looked at all the things that were set up for this event. Off to the side where the path was fully paved, there were stations set up for snacks, drinks, souvenirs, pictures and a few other things such as arts and crafts. Across the massive open field there was plenty to do. The car rolled past a toboggan area where children and adults were already speeding down the steep slope having a fabulous time. There was even an ice-skating rink that looked like the perfect photo-op to showcase how picturesque this country really was. You caught sight of other stalls set up with games, even child and family friendly park rides and even animals for petting.

“Wow, give me this over a ball any day,” Aneka said.

Freddie scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Gauche,” she hissed.

The car door opened but before Freddie could make a move you slammed it shut again and locked it. You’d had enough.

“I have sat here this entire car ride and listened to your disrespect and belittlement of myself, and my sister and I let you get it all out because I know those who feel threatened the most always feel the need to wail and moan about it so their voices are the ones heard the loudest to distract from how insignificant they truly feel and are.”

Freddie’s eyes blazed. She opened her mouth to speak but you continued, keeping your voice steady. “I wasn’t going to point out your insignificance, but I feel I must now. If you had any respect for yourself, your country and people you would shut your mouth and practice a little thing we call in America and by we, I mean women with mine and Aneka’s hair, call self-restraint and self-love. Because you would truly understand that you reflect upon your country and people. It is very telling of your low intelligence when all you can do is attempt to make others feel lowly about themselves because you put so much value on wealth. This holier than thou act will only lead to one thing in your life, shame and loneliness. Though I think you are fully aware of the loneliness part. You can’t make me feel bad about myself because I know my worth and it is astronomically higher than yours and we both know he sees that.”

Freddie sputtered clearly trying to find the words for a comeback. You gave her a good five seconds to compute but even that wasn’t enough. Poor little Tink Tink, you thought as you unlocked the door. It opened as soon as you did like the driver had been trying the entire time. You didn’t wait for her to climb out you took the initiative and took the driver’s hand and climbed out of the car holding onto Aneka’s hand bringing her with you.

As soon as you stepped out of the car, you caught Henry’s eye. His brows were burrowed and there was a look of concern on his face. You gave him a polite smile and head nod as you rounded the car. Slowly, he brought his attention to the group of men before him. Albee stepped beside you then leaned close to your ear.

“She has fangs,” he whispered.

You smirked, “And my bite and bark are both deadly.”

His smile widened as he tipped his invisible hat to you.

“I like you,” Albee added as the line of dignitaries began moving. “And I can see why he likes you too.”

His voice was lower this time, but it was his words that had you stumbling. Thanks to Aneka’s grip on your arm, it was barely noticeable. Thank goodness too because the press were hungrily snapping pictures of everyone and everything. You and the others stood to the side as Henry, the queen and Jemma shook hands and took the lead in the festivities. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow Henry as he shook the hands of several people while exchanging pleasantries. His smile was wide and the gleam in his eyes said he was genuinely happy to be there and interact with them all.

When you saw him dip down to greet a few children, your ovaries practically exploded. The kids melted and in turn he did too. He played around with them as his mother and sister took over with greeting the adults. The more you watched the more your heart thumped thinking how adorable he looked.

“Romancing the daughters of the dignitaries, Duke Baldrik?”

Your attention turned to a photog standing in front of the three of you snapping pictures. The bright lights blinded you momentarily making you bring your hand to shield your face.

“Ha, not at all, Albee replied with a bachelor perfect smile.

“They look unfamiliar. Who might they be?”

“Honored guests of the crown,” Albee offered holding out his arms for both you and Aneka to take. Once you did, he tipped his head to the photog and began ushering you toward the stalls that were set up.

“Enjoy the event,” Albee called out.

As soon as he was out of earshot, he blew out. “While the press here is not entirely as bad as it is in America, I do have to caution you. Do not underestimate them.”

“Thank you,” Aneka said with a flirtatious smile.

If was clear now that she was into him. Of course, she was, you thought. Aneka liked them pretty.

“My pleasure. The longer you are here the more you will be able to figure out which ones prefer some scandal on top of their news and who truly have the crown’s best interest at heart. Him—scandal fattens his pockets.”

You scanned the photographer from before who was now snapping pictures of Freddie who was now with two other women who looked just as stuck up as she did. She looked to be loving the attention and the compliments she was getting from everyone around her. Figured. Rolling your eyes, you turned your back on her.

“Are you not afraid?”

“Afraid of what?”

“The power she wields.”

“Call me dense because I know nothing of her power. All I see is a sad little bitch.”

Albee snorted and heartily laughed bringing the attention of most around you, even Henry.

“My goodness. You are a breath of fresh air. Would you like me to enlighten you of her power, or the power of her name?”

You looked at a few figurines at the stall smiling at how cute they were.

“Nah, I don’t care.”

“I do. Know thy enemy, Art of War, Sun Tzu,” Aneka butt in.

Albee’s smile widened. “I do think I am going to enjoy this season.”

As the three of you walked around taking in the many activities, that had been prepared Albee told you all about Freddie and her family. He didn’t leave much out including her net worth and the influence her family had in the past. When he told you about her lifetime hope and dream of becoming the queen, you almost laughed. Of course she wanted to be queen. She was clearly obsessed with power and wanted the second highest position in the country. However, when Albee revealed that Henry didn’t seem to be keen on that idea you couldn’t keep a smile off your face. It was short lived though, because it dawned on you then that you’d stepped right into another season of “The Bachelor: Who Wants the Crown”. Rich women would fight to their last press on nail for more money and more power and it was even better if it came with a crown and a pretty hot prince.

From the look Aneka gave you, she was thinking the same thing. You tentatively listened as Albee pointed out the who was who of the group all with backstory. He was clearly well informed from growing up within all of this but firm the way he spoke about the rest of them in comparison to Henry you could tell he harbored no ill will toward him. Perhaps there really were some good people besides the queen and Jemma after all.

Fo the next few hours you, Aneka and Albee explored the park flitting from game to game and stall to stall. Every few seconds you were snapping pictures trying to capture the joy and liveliness that was all around you. Everyone was so friendly you couldn’t help but feel right at home among them. Kids easily approached you to play and sing and show you the ropes of a few local games. Grandmothers with kind eyes happily shared stories and happy memories of previous Brexenavides while offering local delicacies like candied nuts that came in a plethora of flavors that you quickly became addicted to.

Before you knew it, you’d wandered off by yourself with no sight of Aneka or Albee. You wondered if it was purposely done so she could get some alone time with him. Deciding not to go find them, you wandered the area some more until you felt a snowball hit your back. Expecting to see a child, you spun around but found Henry with the evidence on his leather gloves. Your jaw dropped.

“Your highness,” you gasped.

His laugh echoed around you as he approached you.

“Forgive me my lady.”

“There goes that title again. I’m no lady.”

Henry took you in for a few moments. “I beg to differ. I have always seen a lady as one who is refined, polite and well spoken, someone who makes those around them feel valued.”

“And that is me?”

“Yes. Since you’ve arrived, I have overheard many of the maids talking about your kindness to them how you never make them feel less than and how you are always polite, stopping to talk to them as if you care about their feelings.”

“And I take it that is something out of character in Brexendor.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Among my family not at all, but when the palace gets filled with dignitaries and other world leaders, I am ashamed to say yes.”

You nodded and popped a few more candied nuts into your mouth. You tipped the bag toward him.

“Are those what I think they are?”

He dipped inside and came away with a small handful that he tossed into his mouth. The moan he let out was deep and it took you right back to the night before. Goosebumps skirted across your skin making you stand taller as a shiver ran through you.

“Are you cold?”

“Uh—no. I’m all right.”

“I am sorry I got carried away. These have always been my favorite. I remember the first outing my father took me to. He knew I was not looking forward to it and that I was anxious about making a good impression on him and the family. Once I got into the car, he had a bag of these waiting for me. As we drove, we talked about sports, video games and my tutor who I mightily disliked. We ate the whole bag within minutes and by the time we got to the appearance all of my nerves had wilted away. Every outing I went on whether it was with him or without there was a bag of these waiting for me.”

The smile on his face was so warm but it was also sorrowful.

“That’s beautiful.”

He nodded popping another one into his mouth. “Then he died and since—I haven’t had not even one.”

The sadness rolling off of him touched your heart. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and tell him everything was going to be all right. You wanted to comfort him in a way that this open space did not permit. You glanced around and caught sight of the toboggan area.

“How good are you at toboggan?”

Henry scoffed the dusted off his hands. “I am the toboggan king.”

You giggled and rolled your eyes. “Put your money where your mouth is, your highness.”

“Money? Are we betting?”

“Bet your ass we are.”

“My ass? My, my Lady Thornton, how forward you are to think that is up for grabs.”

The look he gave you was a steamy one.

“Is there something else that should be up for grabs, your highness? Perhaps something—harder to—accomplish—something bigger?”

Heat flashed behind his icicle blue orbs as he held your gaze. Henry took a step to you then another. With clenched jaws, he sighed.

“Winner makes the request?”

“Wager accepted.”

The two of you walked over to the toboggan areas. As soon as you approached those around marveled at having him so close. It didn’t matter their age they were all captivated by him. To have that much power, you thought. How was he not some self-absorbed asshole?

“After you,” Henry offered, holding his hand out to an empty toboggan. You smirked then climbed on taking care to use your long jacket to pool between your legs so there would be no unsavory photos later.

Once you were comfortable, you glanced to your left, he was seated in his own toboggan ready and waiting with a boyish excited smile on his face. You wondered when the last time was that he’d smiled like that.

“Last chance to back out Lady Thornton.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “A lady never goes back on a wager. Are you sure you don’t want to forfeit before you lose terribly in front of your citizens? A true king knows when he is in over his head.”

Henry laughed loudly again and everyone around him giggled clearly catching his excited joy.

“That is true, but I assure you my lady, this is not one of those times.”

You smiled and focused in front of you. Someone off to the side began counting down from four and when you shouted one a pair of strong hands gave you one push sending you down the steep hill. You’d underestimated the hill greatly and your scream said so. Henry laughed then leaned backward. You watched him inch before you, leading by almost a foot. You did the same and smiled when you cut his lead by a few inches. With the bottom of the hill in sight, you needed a last-ditch effort to come out on top. Not knowing if it would work or not, you rocked back and forth hoping it would increase your speed. Instead, it made the toboggan choppy.

All too late, you saw the fist sized rock in front of you. However, it was too late. The slate of the toboggan nudged it sending the back of it forward and you sailing through the air. It all happened in slow motion, and you fully caught sight of Henry coasting into the finish line and to a stop. He stood and held his hands in the air in triumph, but that excitement faded when he saw your current state. You heard him shout your name then come barreling toward you. You braced yourself for the hard impact you knew was coming and tried to prepare for the face full of snow you were about to ingest. When you felt the hard collision, it knocked the wind out of your lungs. You rolled a few times but barely felt any pain.

Finally, when you came to a stop, it took several moments to open your eyes. Atop you was Henry with his face mere inches from yours. For a few seconds, you thought you’d transported back in time, and you were in the garden room with him again. The patches of snow in his hair slowly registered as did the fact that he was calling your name with his hands on your cheek.

“Xari.”

“Did I win?”

Henry’s features softened as he gave you a half smile.

“Not even close.”

You giggled at first, but it got louder and more uncontrolled. Henry joined in neither of you fully registering that you were not alone and in fact in front of dozens of people. Feet stamped to you, and you turned your face shielding it from the patches of snow.

“Your highness, are you all right?”

Reality was colder than the snow you laid upon.

“Ehm, yes. I am quite all right,” Henry said as he stood. “Just doing the right thing and saving the damsel in distress.”

You snorted as you took his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull you up. “I suppose I earned that title. Thank you, your highness.”

Henry nodded, bowing his head ever so slightly. “A pleasure, Lady Thronton.”

“This way your highness,” Henry’s advisor breached directing the way.

As he walked off you took note of Freddie and her friends standing off to the side watching you. The look on all their faces told you that you were now on their radar. A few more hours passed, and you took the time to get to every ride and activity. You wanted to experience it all so you could really write about it later. This event was definitely a must for any visitors during this time of year.

When you ducked into a photo booth, you sighed out taking the time to catch your breath and give your feet a break. Before you could get too comfortable, another body ducked in beside you.

“Ex--.”

Henry’s smiling face stopped you.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

You snorted and shook your head.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Funny thing. I came here fully prepared to work but knowing you are here only makes me want to experience this with you—through your eyes.”

You searched his then smirked.

“So, you’re—hiding out?”

He nodded and you had to laugh then. “Oh, your highness.”

“Every time you say that it sounds so dirty, and it brings my head to very ungentlemanly things.”

You leaned forward and began making selections for the pictures.

“Is that so?”

“Quite so. Is it intentional on your part?”

Shrugging, you looked at him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, your highness.”

His eyes dropped to your lips and within seconds he pulled you flush against his lips at the same time the flash of the camera went off. You both moaned neither pulling away, both intensifying the kiss. His tongue curled around yours making you wrap your arms around his neck at the same time he brought his hand to the back of your neck. He held you tenderly like you were precious but firm not wanting you to slip away. When you came in here, you hadn’t planned on this being a make out spot but now you couldn’t care less about the pictures.

His lips were sweet but cold and his tongue warm and intoxicating. Somehow, he tasted like peppermint and chocolate, and it was now your new favorite flavor combination. Needing to be closer, you sank your fingers into his tresses and gripped. The guttural moan he let out reverberated all over you, hardening your nipples and moistening your underwear.

“Mm, I can kiss you all day every day and never tire of your lips,” Henry whispered.

“All day? However will you get any work done?”

He smiled then kissed you again nibbling your bottom lip.

“I guess I shall not.”

Your eyes met and you saw the truth of his words. How sweet, you thought before you traced your tongue along his bottom lip then his top carefully outlining his perfect cupid’s bow. He didn��t move an inch. When his eyes fluttered closed giving you the most amazing angle of his long lashes, you softly sighed. Henry then claimed your lips pulling you closer to him so your bodies melded together becoming one figure. His lips hungrily kissed you, nibbling, sucking, licking as he pleased not caring where you were or who could happen upon you at any moment.

“Eh-em, your highness incoming. Duchess Freddie.”

McArthur’s voice broke the lustful haze surrounding you forcing you both to reluctantly pull away. Henry groaned his displeasure then glanced behind you.

“I think I have worked enough today. Care to join me on a personalized tour?”

You smiled brightly then took his head. “As you wish.”

“A low growl escaped him, and it sent your heart fluttering ten times as fast. “I do hope you remember those words when I most need them.”

His grin was mischievous, and you made a note to say them again. The list of words and phrases that elicited a sultry reaction was steadily growing and you planned on monopolizing him at every chance. Henry stood and led you out the other entrance to the booth that was opposite where McArthur must have been standing. His steps were quick as he dashed away like it was the scene of a crime. Perhaps it was seeing how you were now wet and wanting him. When he pulled you through a clearing of pine trees, you squealed, your sense of adventure and excitement picking up.

Once secluded behind the trees, he backed you into a mass of them tucking you in the tight crevice there then kissed you again. You eagerly accepted the kiss. He felt too sublime against you not to. His lips dipped to your jaw then trailed to your neck where it was clear he was a man with a plan.

Henry groaned on your neck then nibbled your earlobe, “What are you doing to me, Xari? How have you taken every single brain cell I have and imprinted your face upon them? How have you touched my skin and made it impossible for me to see anyone else doing it? How have you come here and tortured me so?”

You could hear the yearning in his voice. It was overwhelming, making you want to give in completely to him no matter the consequences. You were speechless. sensing this, he placed a chaste kiss at the tip of your nose then took your hand again and led you through the maze of trees. When you emerged, you saw the spread of rides before you just waiting for you both to let loose like children. McArthur stood just at the large Birch a few feet away with his back turned to you.

“Your highness, the queen said she can manage the rest of the event with the dignitaries and the press and princess Jemma said she will take point with the children and citizens. They are both instructing you to play the role of the proper host to out palace guest,” McArthur informed.

You pinched your lips. You knew what a set up sounded like. You couldn’t help but wonder why they were seemingly pushing him to entertain you. Before you could think any further, Henry looped your arm through his and led you across the field. McArthur handed Henry a newsboy hat and a dark scarf to replace his royal blue one he was currently wearing. Once he was disguised, you scoffed because while it gave him a little more coverage you were sure his people knew him thoroughly and would easily spot you. McArthur handed you a large wide brimmed hat that gave you full coverage from every angle.

“To protect your privacy, Lady Thornton,” McArthur clarified.

You smiled as you put it on. “Thank you, McArthur.

A few minutes later you were seated in a ride called Santa’s Sleigh which was similar to those back and forth rocking pirate ships only it was led by the reindeers with Santa in the back.

“Feel free to scream your highness, I will allow everyone to think it is me.”

“I do not scream Lady Thornton, however, if you make it worth my while I will be the loudest in the land.”

You giggled and enjoyed the ride teasing him the entire time. Your interaction was so natural it almost felt unreal. Though he didn’t touch you above your waist, his thigh remained pressed to yours no matter what. By the fourth ride, you’d deduced it was purposely done. Knowing that you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering. Ride after ride you laughed, joked and teased one another. Ride after ride he made sure to keep some part of your bodies touching. Ride after ride you exchanged flirtatious glances that only increased your body temperature. It may have been twenty or so degrees out, but you were a sweltering ninety-nine degrees.

“This is your favorite ride?”

Henry’s questioning eyes were glued to the carousel that was decked with reindeers, sacks of Santa’s presents, giant boulder like forms of coal, Santa’s mailbox and other notable Christmas decorations. The sun had now set and the lights that bathed the ride made it seem so magical. This entire country was plotting against you here, you thought to yourself.

“Sure is.”

“Then, shall we?”

Like a six your old child rather than a grown ass woman, you scampered toward the ride then walked around it trying to decide the best figurine. It was a tough choice, but you ended up picking a reindeer which had Henry choosing the same one beside yours. Before he climbed on, he took the time to carefully buckle you into the harness tightening the straps as needed. As he did so, his hands touched your waist and hips and from the look on his face you knew this too was purposely done.

“Be careful your highness. You are very close to alerting the outside world to just how horny you are.”

The smirk he wore slipped and his brows furrowed.

“Is that what you think I am?”

His voice was tight btu other than that it gave nothing away.

“Um—isn’t it true?”

His jaw clenched and a scowl fell across his lips. Backing away, he claimed onto his own reindeer but didn’t bother buckling the straps. A cold breeze engulfed you making you feel the bitter coldness for the first time. Had you said something wrong?

The carousel went round and round sending you and Henry up and down, but he didn’t speak at any point. Instead, he held onto the pole while staring off into the distance. You allowed the silence to stretch for a few moments then when you turned to speak to him, you found his eyes already on you.

“Something wrong?”

Henry opened his mouth to speak but shook his head instead. You didn’t believe him. He definitely had something to say but you didn’t push him.

“Why is the carousel your favorite ride?”

You smirked then shook your head. “It just is.”

“Even if it was not obvious you were lying, I would not believe that. Come on tell me.”

“You won’t laugh?”

“I might.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but your look was met with a hearty chuckle.

“Come on tell me.”

Hugging the pole of the reindeer tighter, you rested the side of your head on it, looking at him. “When I was about 8, I always saw it when looked so—pretty. It was usually the only ride that looked so—magical no matter what time of day or where I went. My father told me that it was a portal to a magical world. He said there was always one sometimes two chosen figures that were spelled to open the portal but only those destined to find it could. So, whenever I saw a carousel, I made it a point to ride it hoping to find the right figure to unlock the portal and take me away.”

The smile Henry wore was an adoring one. “That may be the cutest image ever. An 8-year-old you climbing onto these things hoping it opened a portal to another world.”

You nodded. “My parents indulged me, I was lucky. As I got older, I grew out of the heavy belief there was a magical portal and began to see how beautiful and romantic carousels were and went to realizing that perhaps they were magical after all, but not because of going to another world but how they made you feel and the memories you could make with those who matter while on them.”

You hadn’t meant to spill so much to him. Glancing at him, you tried not to cringe realizing his eyes were glued to you. However, the longer he stared at you the more you felt like jumping off the ride and running back to the maze of trees.

“So how many memories have you made with those who matter on one of these?”

You smirked then shrugged. “One or two.”

His huff made you pinch your lips in an effort to not laugh. “Interesting.”

Making your best innocent face, you turned the question back onto him. “

“And you?”

“I feel like you are the one who will laugh at me here.”

“Why?”

“Because this—this is the first carousel I have ridden with anyone—leisurely, well that was not family that is.

Your eyes widened. “Ever?”

“Ever.”

“Oh my goodness, Henry—am I your first?”

His smile was mischievous. “It would appear so, Lady Thornton.”

You bit your bottom lip then smiled widely. You didn’t know why you felt so prideful. It wasn’t like it was something that mattered or something that reflected on you in any possible way.

“Well, you are my first prince in a magical fairytale country that I’ve been on one of these with,” you began pausing to contemplate if you should say the rest of the sentence. “And this just may be my favorite ever.”

His cheeks flamed and you couldn’t help but smile. Then when his smile stretched bigger than you’d seen, your heart couldn’t bare it. He was too damn cute.

“Mine too,” Henry muttered a little above a whisper knowing that you’d catch it.

If cloud nine was the highest point one’s spirit could reach you were ebbing onto cloud 10. There was no need to speak for the rest of the ride. You and Henry rode it once, then twice but neither of you seemed quite ready to get off. After a fourth go round, the two of you walked around the park taking in the different games and events that were scattered about. You’d wanted to try the skating rink but didn’t want to expose him to the eyes of everyone around due to the openness of the rink, so you opted for other lowkey options for entertainment. You chatted about a plethora of things never remining on any subject long because you had so much in common that always branched out to other topics.

When you saw the actual reindeers, you lost it and scurried over to pet and baby talk them. While they were massive, you couldn’t help but find them adorable. You fed one a carrot and squealed at how affectionate it was. When you turned to make a puppy face at Henry, you found him snapping pictures of you with his phone like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At the urging of the reindeer master, you climbed into the sleigh that was decked out as if it truly were Santa’s sleigh and posed for the professional photos. As they snapped away you looked to Henry trying to coax him into the sleigh with you. It didn’t take long before he climbed in and smiled for the pictures with you. It felt normal to do this with him, normal to be around one another like this. A massive bubble in your chest screamed of caution and reservation so loudly that your head had no other choice but to register the warning.

After a few more photos, McArthur motioned for Henry’s attention which had him jumping out of the sleigh and stepping off to the side where both of them spoke in hushed tones. You prepared to climb down from the sleigh but as you did you happened to glance off to the right where you saw Freddie watching you. The rage and hatred in her eyes could not be missed and for a second you panicked. When you saw her raise a gun in her hand, your eyes widened. Before you could make a noise or move, a loud “pop” echoed through the park. You fully expected to feel the pain of the bullet and braced yourself, unable to move.

Instead, the pain never came. What did unfold was pure chaos. Several loud “neighs” boomed through the air then a forceful jerk. The action sent you hurling backward landing in a crumped heap on the seat of the sleigh. There were screams in the park and you watched the reindeers panic, colliding with each other as if they were fighting. Antlers thwacked together making it sound as if trees themselves were splintering around you. Henry made a move toward the sleigh but was stopped by his protective detail that was now circling him and locking him down, ready to take any stray bullet for him.

Within seconds, the reindeer that was harnessed to the sleigh you were in took off.

“Aaaaaaaaaaah!”

With terror, you watched as the unmanned runaway sleigh bound across the park not caring where it went. Everywhere people dashed out of its way trying to save themselves. All you could do was watch from your scrunched position, holding on for dear life as you prayed this was not how you died.

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

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#crown for two fic #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill au #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x black reader #black fanfiction #christmas fanfiction #cheesy christmas fic #henry cavill x black ofc #royalty au

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heliads · 6 months

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everything is blue • conrisa space au • chapter seven: which is worse, death or distribution?

Risa Ward escaped a shuttle destined for her certain, painful death. Connor Lassiter ran away from home before it was too late. Lev Calder was kidnapped. All of them were supposed to be dissected for parts, used to advance a declining galaxy, but as of right now, all of them are whole. Life will not stay the same way forever.

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Connor is not very good at keeping his head down. He knows what he promised the Admiral, he knows what he promised Risa, but it’s one thing to agree with the idea of not making trouble and a whole separate issue to actually go through with it. The situation was only complicated further since every kid in the Graveyard thinks he’s a celebrity thanks to a rumor that spiraled totally out of control. He knows Risa was only trying to help him by revealing Connor to be the so-called Akron AWOL, but when Connor wakes up to find at least half a dozen under-fifteens staring at him with mute fascination, it’s a little more difficult to feel grateful.

His idol status notwithstanding, Connor just isn’t really the best at laying low. It’s probably what got him slated for distribution in the first place. Rules aren’t really his thing, even when they’re designed to keep him alive.

Maybe it’s for the best, then, that his assigned job keeps him well off the beaten path. When he was given his assignment, the older kid in charge had kind of smirked at him, like he was expecting Connor to complain about getting sent out to man the engineering systems, but in reality, Connor couldn’t be more pleased about it. He gets to figure out exactly how a massive star cruiser like this stays spaceborne. What about that wouldn’t be interesting?

There’s a lot more grunt work involved than just tightening down the occasional gear or nut, but all in all, Connor’s happy with his line of work. He keeps his hands busy. He learns more every day. Honestly, if it was just him and Risa up on this thing, it would kind of be like paradise.

That, in the end, is the problem. This station is chock-full of groundsless getting in the way. Everyone likes to stall from their daily tasks by staring out the windows or watching the stars go by. Often, that involves clustering around the main viewports or huddling just outside the hatches leading out into empty space. They’re not actually stupid enough to venture past the airlocks, but they get damn close, and that in turn gets on Connor’s nerves.

It feels like he’s holding his breath from the moment he wakes up. Connor jolts awake from fitful sleep involving visions of streets he’ll never stop running down, endless darkness that’s always just about to shut him up forever. He throws on relatively clean clothes, downs a meal, speeds across the halls while everyone watches him, either pretending not to or just outright staring. He hurriedly types in the passcode to the storage closet with the old standard-issue spacewalker suits, clicks every last piece of the equipment into place around him, and then he steps through the airlock and out into open space. Only then can he get a full rush of filtered air into his lungs. Only then can he breathe again.

It is still insane to him that he gets a life like this. Connor is floating in the vast starry sky, weightless and limitless. The Juvey-cops couldn’t find him if they tried. Connor was supposed to die weeks ago, but he’s still alive. His eyes are his own, and they’re wide and reverent as he stares out at the cosmos around him. For once, the inky darkness around him isn’t frightening. The thousands of bright pinpricks of life keep Connor stuck securely in place like a moth on some old-Earth scientist’s display board.

There are countless stars, all a million shades of bone-bleached pale, swirling around in this yawning mass of black. It’s fascinating. It’s entrancing. It’s Connor’s, Connor’s and Connor’s alone. Out here, tethered to the life he knows only by a thin yet secure cable, Connor is truly existing on his own terms. He’s got a job to do, same as anyone else, but no one can check him on it because no one knows how to fix their never ending problems except him. Connor is allowed to float around unbothered so long as the lights come on at the end of the day, and that’s perfectly alright by him.

Connor always completes the tasks they set him, anyway. That’s how he’s risen in grudging popularity among even the Goldens, or the Admiral’s set of trusted older kids who run things around here. Connor won over the younger ones by being the Akron AWOL, but the last holdouts were satisfied when the heating finally worked across the whole station. Once Connor fixed up the pressure variations in the eastern sectors, he was untouchable.

Untouchable to most, at least. There’s still one guy out there who refuses to cave to Connor’s winning streak, and that, unsurprisingly, is Roland. Connor isn’t sure what he did to the guy other than share a ride up to the Graveyard, but Roland has had it out for him since day one and he doesn’t seem inclined to quit it anytime soon. Connor was hoping that he wouldn’t have to cross paths with Roland that often since they both had different tasks, but unfortunately, seeing as Roland’s training to be a pilot and Connor often has to fix things up on the coming and going shuttles, they see more of each other than either of them really like.

Roland’s a thorn in his side, yes, but as Connor has to frequently remind himself, he’s not a major threat. Roland can’t do anything to him more than leer at him out of the shadows and bother Risa in an attempt to get to him. Roland was a little more active on the second threat, but Risa put a stop to that quickly enough by ‘accidentally’ stabbing him in the thigh with a syringe that left the bully with a high fever for half a week.

No one can prove it was Risa, and no one’s willing to snitch on the girl who’s sewed them all up so many times, so Risa has yet to face punishment, and her reputation amongst the groundsless of the Graveyard has grown to boot. It’s kind of hot, if Connor was willing to admit that, which he isn’t. Also pretty terrifying.

Connor shakes his head slightly, a faint smile slipping over his lips as he remembers that day. Risa had slid into a seat opposite him in the mess hall wearing the proudest grin he’d ever seen. He’d asked her what was up and she’d just shrugged absentmindedly and told him that she would have a startlingly good career as a poisoner if she ever wanted it. Connor didn’t disagree.

At the end of the day, Roland is going to keep on being, well, Roland, and Connor can ignore that so long as he doesn’t accidentally let himself get caught in a room alone with him. The rest of the kids he’s met so far seem pretty harmless, more bark than bite. He doesn’t see most of them that often, as there usually isn’t that much overlap between distributes unless they’ve got the same job.

There is one guy, though, that’s been starting to get Connor’s attention. Most of the communications equipment is stuck with the comms kids in the aptly nicknamed ComBom. The few working individual comms units are saved for either the Goldens, the kids up in the navs systems, or stuck in these spacewalker suits so the engineers don’t accidentally lock themselves out in the cosmos without someone able to hear their pleas and let them back in. That’s why a few kids are taken on as info runners. All day, they stalk from room to room, ferrying messages from security down to the engines up to navigation and back again.

Connor has yet to meet a good runner. They’re all gossipy and self-important, collecting everyone’s secrets with each message they deliver. Connor doesn’t think of any of them as threatening, though, except for one. The newest one, actually. A kid called Mason Starkey.

Starkey’s not dangerous. Not yet, at least. He’s just– well, weird. He hangs around engineering, like getting sneak peeks of Connor battening down the hatches is prime entertainment. Apparently, in the few weeks since Connor left OH-10, rumors of his charge against the Juvey-cop have reached several star systems. It’s attracted groupies like Starkey, who seem to think that Connor is going to lead them all in some great war against the Collective and destroy distribution for good.

Connor wants to shake them by the shoulders and tell them to get a grip. There’s no way he can do anything about unwinding, no one can. They’re kids. He had a lucky break with snatching that officer’s tranq gun, yes, but that doesn’t make him a war hero in this fight. Connor’s been hoping that Starkey’s odd obsession will wear off over time, but then Connor will glance over his shoulder and see the kid eyeing him from down the hall, or hovering in the shadows of a nearby room. His expression has gotten more malevolent over time, Connor swears it’s true. Combined with the flame red of his hair, it’s like meeting a demon from old-Earth stories.

Starkey, like Roland, hasn’t done anything, though. When Connor talks to him, which is as infrequently as he possibly can, the kid’s almost reverent. Not a threat, he decides. But stars help him if Starkey decides he wants to change that. With everything Connor’s got to do to keep the Graveyard up and running, a grav-knife could be shoved in his back before he even realized Starkey was in the room with him.

Speaking of keeping busy, Connor still has work to do. He takes one last look at the stars swirling around him, then turns back to the ship. Connor’s got to tighten up the viewport screws near the nav center, examine a supposedly clogged engine valve near the south power cell, and, if he’s got time, clean off some of the solar panels. They’re not storing electricity like they used to, but when have they ever? They’re running on dregs, all of them. Never enough to go around, even out here.

Connor manages to blow through his tasks fairly quickly, which is nice. He can kick up his heels in one of the tool storage closets and try not to be found for a while. Connor finishes up with the solar panels and starts to head back towards the main airlock when he sees a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eyes.

Immediately, he freezes, one hand on his tether cable. Connor is the only engineer out here, that’s Graveyard policy. You never risk more than one kid out in space at a time. The kids of the Graveyard are expendable, but not all of them. You should always have a contingency policy; never put all your synth-eggs in one escape pod, or never let all of your teenagers capable of fixing your ship go out into space without anyone to get them back in case of trouble.

Slowly, carefully, Connor pulls himself back in. About twenty paces away from the entrance, Connor can see another tether winding out into infinity, a pale ribbon coiling away into the darkness of space. Connor squints to see who’s at the other end; these suits are old, and the transparent panels in the helmets have grown cloudy with time, often making it difficult to see details.

Connor taps the comms panel on the side of his helmet carefully, sending out a message to whoever’s within range. “Who’s out there?”

A few beats later, he’s answered, and the voice makes his blood run cold in his veins. “What, you don’t recognize an old friend, Connor? Or maybe it’s just the suit.”

Roland. Suns, this is bad. Connor’s strategy for handling Roland has been to always keep a crowd in between the two of them. Roland’s not foolhardy enough to try to push him around with an audience, but out here? It’s just the two of them. Space is cold; it doesn’t make for a kind spectator. No one will help him here.

“We’re not old friends,” Connor shoots back on impulse, trying to keep his voice steady, “We only met a few weeks ago. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten sentimental for Cleaver’s ship already.”

Roland’s returning chuckle fires over the comms in Connor’s helmet in a spark of static. “Trust me, I miss those days about as little as you do. We’ve got it good out here, don’t we? Plenty of room to move about. Just as long as you don’t get stuck out here, of course.”

It’s not an empty threat. The Graveyard’s pretty limited on rescue equipment, as Connor can attest to himself, having seen their low stocks. If someone were untethered, if they started floating out towards the vastness of open space, they would never be found again. There are few fates worse than distribution, but having to spend the rest of your short life slowly starving, overpoweringly thirsty, unable to move except to drift farther away from safety, would be a terrible way to go indeed. You’d lose your mind before you ever lost your life. Kind of the opposite of distribution, then, if you think about it that way.

Connor scoffs. “You’re not going to leave me out here, Roland. Even you’re not that stupid.”

Connor can’t see much of Roland’s face, but even from here, he can see the other boy’s expression darken. “What did you call me?”

“Stupid,” Connor says gleefully. “Or, not stupid, so long as you don’t try to trap me out here. You tell me.”

“I’ll show you,” Roland threatens, and he reaches for the mechanism fastening his tether to his suit so he can reel himself back in closer to Connor.

Connor lunges for his tether as well, but he’s got the advantage of a shorter distance to the cruiser, and he’s able to make it back to the wall of the ship first. Roland, by contrast, seems to struggle with his suit. He’s able to retract his tether in short, jerky bursts, bringing him about two paces closer to the cruiser, but it quickly becomes obvious that he won’t be able to move any farther than that. Not without help.

“I’ll tell you the difference between the two of us, Roland,” Connor tells him over the comms as Roland continues to struggle with his tether to no avail, “We’ve both got a temper, but you act on yours much more than I do. I, for one, never would have tried to scare you out here if I didn’t know what I was doing. I certainly wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of putting myself in a suit if I didn’t know exactly how to put it all together. That includes properly fastening the tether.”

Connor taps his tether to prove his point. Roland’s helmet reflects light from a nearby star as he quickly turns his head from his own tether to Connor’s, evidently comparing the two. Connor’s tether is properly fastened to his belt, exactly perpendicular to the clasp tying it in place.

By contrast, Roland’s is at a bad angle, causing the retracting mechanism to continually skip in place instead of pulling him closer to the ship. Going further over the edge, Connor reaches over and unties Roland’s tether from the ship. The only thing keeping Roland connected to the Graveyard is the fact that Connor is still holding on to the other end. If Connor were to let go, it would all be over. Roland can’t even risk pulling himself back hand over hand lest Connor drop the tether before he makes it over in time.

At last, Roland laughs, although the sound isn’t as powerful as it usually is. “Alright, you’ve got me. You liked this, huh? Showing me up? It won’t happen again, I can promise you that. You won’t always have your little fans around you to keep you safe. I’ll find you when you let down your guard, and then–” He snaps his jaws at Connor viciously, laughing as his breath fogs up his helmet.

Connor just stares at him, cocking his head slightly to the side. “Will you find me? Right now, you can’t even get back.”

He pulls himself over to the edge of the ship, still holding on to Roland’s tether. Connor’s close enough now that he can get inside easily, he’s already shadowed by the overhang of the airlock entrance. Roland, by contrast, could not catch himself if his tether released. One wrong move, and he would be spinning out into the cosmos forever.

“Come on, Connor,” Roland says. Connor can just make out the goading glint of his eyes through the transparent panel of his suit’s helmet. “Pull me in.”

Connor doesn’t move. Roland tenses, and the teasing edge leaves his voice. “Connor. Let me in. You can’t leave me out here.”

“Can’t I?” Connor muses. “No one knows you’re here but me. You’re not supposed to be out here. It’s not in my job description to check for kids sneaking out past the airlock.”

The last of Roland’s pride leaves him, replaced by naked, unadulterated fear. At last, the tables have been turned, and it’s Roland realizing how easy it would be to die out here. Connor has the power to do it right now, and like he said, no one would ever think to blame him for it. He could have been on the opposite side of the cruiser when Roland decided to take a solo spacewalk and forgot to tether himself properly. All it would take is a choked up sob story about how he could have saved Roland had he just known the other boy was out there, and he’d get away with it all, easy as anything.

Connor’s gloved fingers curl tighter around Roland’s tether. Roland’s breathing is harsh and uneven over his comms, sending showers of static into Connor’s ears. Is he ready for this? Can Connor rid himself of an enemy right now? He’ll never get another chance like this. Roland would never come out here alone again, not since he knows that Connor was almost willing to kill him. Is willing, still. Might do it even now.

Connor’s hand slams Roland’s tether against a railing on the ship. For a moment, neither of them are entirely sure what will happen, and then the clasp mechanism kicks into gear, locking in place once more so Roland can pull himself back towards the cruiser. Connor doesn’t wait to see what happens, if the older boy manages to make it all the way before the clasp on his suit gives out or not.

He tugs himself into the airlock, letting it shut behind him. Oxygen floods the room, but Connor hardly gives the air time to settle around him before stepping out again. The suit comes off as quickly as Connor can yank it from his body, and he leaves the various pieces of equipment in an untidy heap in a nearby storage closet. He’ll clean it up later today, he’s the only one who does.

Connor shuts the closet door and nearly leaps out of his own skin when he turns back around to find Starkey standing there right behind him, silent as a ghost. He starts to say something about being startled, but Starkey speaks over him, voice almost breathy with delight.

“I saw what you did out there to Roland,” Starkey tells him. “I wouldn’t have let him go if I were you, but it was a great move. I’ve heard a lot of kids say we’re defenseless out here, but I don’t think so. Space is big. You could lose anyone out there.”

Starkey shifts from foot to foot, still directing that awful grin towards Connor. The lights are dim in this corridor, and the deep shadows dim Starkey’s usually bright red hair. That, combined with the malevolent stare lurking deep within Starkey’s eyes, makes Connor feel as if he’s meeting the human embodiment of an explosion. The supernova will engulf Connor soon; he’s staring down his own death right now.

“It was a mistake,” Connor says quickly. “We’re not supposed to hurt any of our own out here.”

Starkey cocks his head to the side. “Yeah, but you don’t listen to rules like that, do you? Aren’t you the Akron AWOL? Don’t you do what it takes to keep yourself alive? You’re like me. We’re both survivors.”

Starkey takes a looming step towards Connor, who backs away. “That’s not– I’m not–” He finds himself tripping over his words, and then he turns and flees, leaving Starkey and his relentless malice in the darkness behind him.

Connor doesn’t entirely know where he’s going. The med wing, probably– Risa’s the one he goes to, always, and although he doesn’t know how she’ll react to hearing how close he came to actually killing Roland because Connor can hardly believe it himself, he can at least see her expression when she decides that he really is as dangerous as she once thought he was.

In his current state of agitation, though, Connor misses a few turns, skids down one too many corridors, and when he looks up again, he’s nowhere near the Graveyard medical center. Instead, he’s pacing through a sector he doesn’t think he’s ever been down before. Connor is about to attempt to retrace his steps when a voice suddenly calls his name from a half-open door.

Connor can’t escape now, not in the face of such an obvious greeting, so he cautiously pokes his head into the room. He’s met with the sight of several teenagers idling in front of various computational and communications interfaces. One girl is idly tracking maps of nearby flight paths, occasionally calling out when Juvey-cops get too close to known groundsless pickup spots so whoever’s in charge of their little underground transportation group will know to stay undercover. Another is reading through lists of kids slated for distribution and sorting the names into star systems so they can see who’d be easy to pick up.

The kid who called Connor’s name is spinning back and forth in his seat. Despite the layer of dust that’s settled on seemingly everything, the boy’s green shirt still looks pristine, and his blond hair looks expensively cut. He eyes Connor with a proud grin. It’s the grin of a kid who’s never had to worry about a damn thing in his life, the sort of ease you only get when you know you can have anything you want just by asking. This guy has been untouchable his whole life. Well, up until now.

“Hi,” he says, waving cheekily, “I’m Hayden. Welcome to the ComBom. Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Connor nods slowly, taking a seat in one of the empty chairs when Hayden gestures for him to sit. “Yeah, no, I’ve stayed busy. You guys haven’t broken anything major yet, that’s why I haven’t been down.”

Hayden chuckles. “So you’re telling me all I have to do is, like, kick a hole in the air filtration unit and I get a free audience with the Akron AWOL? Stars, I’m definitely using that later.”

Connor’s surprise and confusion must be very obvious on his face, because Hayden breaks into laughter. “Kidding, kidding. I’m not actually that stupid. I love breathing as much as the next guy.”

“Yeah, ‘cause it lets him never stop talking,” the kid next to him breaks in.

Hayden rolls his eyes. “Sorry for being funny, Jeevan. When you stop laughing at my jokes, I’ll shut up. I swear it.” He pretends to cross his heart, and Jeevan groans.

“That’s a lie and you know it. Besides, I just laugh so you don’t feel bad if no one else does. Don’t take it personally.”

Watching the two of them go back and forth, Connor can’t help but smile slightly. Hayden’s got this unnatural ability to make all of them feel at ease. In a place like this, that’s no small feat.

Hayden glances back to Connor, evidently noticing the change in his expression. “And he smiles! Didn’t know if you could do that or not. You looked awfully gloomy in the corridor out there. I mean, all of us Deadmen are kind of depressing, but I hardly think that’s our fault.”

Connor frowns. “Deadmen?”

Jeevan groans again. “Hayden’s slang for all of us. We live in the Graveyard, so we’re Deadmen. He thinks he’s very clever.”

“Because I am,” Hayden interjects. “Anyways, we’re not talking about that now. We can introduce Connor to all the glorious gimmicks of Graveyard life later. Something’s obviously up with him, and I make it my mission to know everything here. Goes with the territory.”

His frank tone is both a shock to Connor’s system and somewhat of a relief. Any of the other kids on the cruiser would be somewhat hesitant to bring up Connor’s obvious bad mood, but Hayden doesn’t seem willing to back away from any touchy subject, which saves both of them time and trouble.

Connor lifts a shoulder. “Nothing much. It’s just– well, are you ever nervous that you’re, like, a really bad person?”

As he says it, Connor can feel a weight start to lift from his shoulders. He’s been choking on it this whole time. The galaxy seems determined to make a monster of him; why else would it have been so easy for Risa to believe that he’d killed the Juvey-cop, why did the Akron AWOL rumor take off so fast, why was it so easy to nearly strand Roland out in space forever? Connor had been telling himself that his parents got it wrong when they decided to revoke his grounds license, but he hasn’t exactly been making a fair case against it.

Hayden leans back in his chair, contemplating this. “I’m not nervous about it, I know I’m a really bad person.”

Connor gives him a look. “Are you serious?”

“Never,” Hayden grins. “It ruins my aura of mystery.”

He waggles his eyebrows mischievously, making Connor break into a reluctant smile. “In all honesty, though,” Hayden continues on, “I think that’s a tricky question. We’re all bad kids, it’s why we’re here. You’ve still got time to turn that around, though. You dodged the biggest bullet by escaping distribution, you’ve just got to live as best you can after that. That’s the tricky part.”

Connor tilts his head to the side, pondering the idea. “You think living is hard?”

“Staying alive,” Hayden clarifies. “You’ll still have to tangle with authority long after you turn eighteen. That’ll be hard, too. Anything can happen. You’re not safe just because you can’t be distributed anymore. There’s no Graveyard for over-eighteens. You just get hurt without anyone around to save you.” Hayden chuckles darkly. “I don’t know if it’s worse to screw up now or later. Would you rather die or be distributed?”

Death or distribution. Two terrible fates. He could be split into parts, or he could be shot down in the dark of night. Either way, he’d never get to be Connor again. That’s the worst part about all of this, he thinks, nobody has an answer for anything. Decades of distribution, and it still terrifies people just as much as it did at the start. You can lie and say you wouldn’t feel a thing, that your consciousness gets to experience hundreds of lifetimes instead of just one, but that doesn’t stop the fact that it’s disturbing to know that your muscles have been peeled away from your bones and stuck onto someone else. Connor wants to be Connor. He doesn’t want his pieces on anyone else.

Then again, at least then he’d have something. What happens after death? Connor’s heard enough arguments to know that many people have many opinions on the matter, but in the end, no one has any definite proof for anything. You can’t talk to anyone after the fact, obviously. What if it’s worse? What if it’s like being unwound a thousand times over? What if you feel the loss of every limb more keenly because you don’t have anyone else’s life to live to distract yourself from it? It could just be an end screen, a fade to black, but Connor has no way of proving it.

Connor thinks for a moment or two longer, then says, “I'd rather die. Distribution never ends. At least, if you die, you get it over with. What about you? Which is worse, death or distribution?”

Silence stretches across the ComBom for what might be the first time all day. They’re just kids, all of them, but from the way quiet despair fills out invisible lines on Hayden’s face, Connor swears he looks far older than just a teenager. Maybe that’s the closest he’ll ever get to old age, just a trick of the light, or maybe the blond boy will actually beat the odds and make it past both the age of distribution and the subsequent years of violence. Maybe they’ll all survive. Or maybe there’s a mass grave waiting for all of them on a distribution colony somewhere across the galaxy.

“I don’t know,” Hayden says at last, “I don’t know.”

a/n even in space hayden will have a green shirt. yes this makes complete sense

unwind tag list: @schroedingers-kater, @sirofreak, @locke-writes

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fates-theysband · 10 months

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oh, how i miss the sound of thunder

the fic that got me dangerously close to having to admit to my therapist that i have a self ship blog. Enjoy.

vampire fate au part 1 of who knows how many but i definitely intend to continue this. cw for descriptions of thunderstorms and animal attacks.

words: 2601

By all logic, it should have been a routine delivery. The strangest thing was that the home was off the beaten path–an understatement, actually; it was secluded so deeply in the forest that Charlie had had to hitch their horse to a tree near the road. There was no way a creature that size could navigate the tightly packed trees and thick foliage. A human could scarcely do it. But the instructions on the package had been clear. And anyone who lived this far out from civilization was either in desperate need or frightfully powerful. Either way, they were too mindful of the potential consequences to turn back.

Besides, they were curious as to what was in the package. It wasn’t terribly large–small enough to fit under one arm–but it was heavy for its size, and though they took care not to jostle it too much they could tell from the sounds it made when they moved it that it wasn’t a single item. It wasn’t proper to ask customers what was in the box, and their employer had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the contents of this particular order, but perhaps they’d be able to figure it out some other way.

They didn’t have much more time to contemplate that “other way”, as they came upon the clearing. The transition from overgrown woods to a painstakingly laid stone path was jarring enough that they almost tripped, but caught themself at just the right time for their eyes to follow the path to an enormous wrought-iron gate, each twisted bar ending in a devilishly sharp point. If it weren’t for the enormous manor behind said gate rising high enough to block the light of the setting sun–”come at dusk”, the instructions on the letter had read–Charlie suspected the place would look enviably beautiful. However, they could only focus on the way the house’s shadow put an inexplicable chill in the air, one that couldn’t be explained by the autumn evening. It was all at once foreboding and oddly intriguing. They made their way–quickly, quietly–to the end of the path, reaching for the gate…and almost losing their balance dodging it as it swung open on its own.

“The wind is awfully strong tonight,” they murmured as they grabbed the fence to right themself, hoping that if they spoke this into existence they’d be able to pretend they’d even felt a breeze. They shook their head, trying not to think about it as they passed through the gate into the garden. It was small, but well-maintained, with a fascinating array of plants they’d never seen before. Perhaps they had the wrong idea. Perhaps they were just about to deliver rare seeds to a reclusive botanist. The thought quelled their unease…slightly, anyway. If anything, though, it only intensified their curiosity.

The unease was quick to return as they left the garden and began approaching the house proper, realizing just how dark it was up close. They looked back–the hints of sunlight in the clearing showed that the sun was still in the sky, but the sheer size of the house had managed to block it entirely. What’s more, the house had many windows, but all of them were dark; shades drawn, not even the barest flicker of a candle flame. Indeed, the only lights were two lanterns on either side of the door, their flames only barely warming the chilling dark. Charlie steeled themself as they climbed the steps to the manor door and, as the instructions said, knocked three times. The doors creaked open with an agonizing slowness, and the recipient of the strange package stepped out of the darkness of the manor.

This, more than anything, was the most surprising thing that had happened tonight. The occupant of this eerie house deep in the woods was absolutely bewitching. A bit frightening, with the way the lantern light reflected off his spectacles giving the impression of demonically glowing eyes, but attractive all the same. His face was aged, but in a way that sharpened and enhanced his features; it could be surmised that he was at least as striking now as he had been in his youth, if not more so. It was difficult to tell where his eyes were looking, but he seemed to be regarding Charlie with a sort of confused annoyance as he spoke. “Good evening. May I…help you?”

The courier took a moment to remember where they were–goodness, it wasn’t fair that his voice was just as lovely as his face–and stammered out, “I–I’ve come from the Emporium. I have the merchandise you ordered.” They punctuated the statement by holding out the package with both hands, inwardly cringing at how awkwardly they were behaving.

The stranger’s expression shifted from a slight frown to a more neutral face as he spoke again. “Ah, I’ve been expecting you. I am…pleased to know that you followed my directions. So many in the past have not.”

Charlie’s hands were shaking slightly. They couldn’t tell if it was the weight of the package–it suddenly seemed so much heavier than it had before–or the feeling of his eyes on them. “Thank you, sir,” they responded, “I appreciated having them.”

“Hm. Diligent and polite. Mortimer ought to commend you,” the stranger responded, with a hint of…amusement? At least, it sounded as such. Taking the package, he transferred it to one hand and reached into his pocket–Charlie, now finally able to tear their eyes from his face, noticed that his clothing was finely constructed, but far less ornate than they’d expected. Perhaps this fellow really was a scholar of some sort, like they’d assumed. He placed an envelope, sealed with vibrant yellow wax, in their hand–as expected, they could feel the weight of coin within. “Payment in full, as promised.”

There’d been the slightest bit of contact between the stranger’s fingertips and Charlie’s own as he’d handed them the envelope. They readily accepted the possibility that they were just feeling unseasonably warm–they could already feel their cheeks burning–but his hands, like the air around his home, felt deathly cold. “Thank you,” they said once again, now even more frightened–but also even more curious. “I suppose I ought to see this back to the Emporium.”

“Indeed, and quickly,” replied the stranger. “The forest is dangerous after dark.” His tone made it unclear if this was intended as a warning or a threat. Perhaps both.

“Well, I bid you good night, then,” Charlie responded, suddenly very aware that there was precious little daylight left and slowly backing down the steps. The stranger said nothing, simply nodded in response and closed the door.

–

All attempts over the following month to obtain any information on the stranger in the forest bore no fruit. Most of the people in town didn’t know of him, let alone anything about him. Those that did know of him told wild stories–claiming they’d seen him change his form, that he would occasionally visit the town in the dead of night, that some obscure older relative had attended the funeral long ago of somebody who looked just like him. The only information that wasn’t clearly rumor or hearsay came from their employer, Mortimer, who could only offer that he sent his orders via carrier raven and signed them with only the letter “F”.

At the end of the month, they were given another courier assignment–a small package, heavy for its size, written in the same familiar script, with the same familiar directions, save for one new instruction at the end.

Please send the courier with the eye patch. I trust them to follow these directions as reliably as they did last time.

The fact that this “F”–this beautiful, terrifying, mysterious stranger–had even remembered them at all was flattering enough. The fact that he’d gotten a positive enough impression that he’d specifically requested them was tantamount to a marriage proposal. They resolved never to let him know that they were the only courier the Emporium had, and headed out at dusk.

They weren’t able to speak with him as much as they’d hoped to when they arrived–he’d been polite enough, but he seemed significantly more on edge than he had before, as though he had some desperate matter to attend to that he simply couldn’t spend any time avoiding. He’d thanked them for the package, handed them the payment envelope, bid them safe travels, and swiftly headed back inside. Charlie found themself oddly concerned–they’d only met him twice now, but the distress radiating from him was palpable enough that it was affecting them as well. As they left through the gate and continued down the path back toward the forest, they stole a look back. No changes to the house–no candles in the window, no shadows moving behind the drapes–but the clouds that had been steadily rolling in the entire day now blanketed the sky. They’d do well to make it back to the road soon.

Navigating the woods had been difficult enough with the last dregs of sunlight streaming through the trees, but with the impending downpour covering the landscape in untimely darkness it was far, far worse. It was only a matter of time before Charlie realized they’d taken a wrong turn. They silently cursed themself; if they hadn’t been jumping at shadows and turning in the direction of every strange sound they heard, they’d be halfway back to town. Instead, they were navigating through a seemingly endless labyrinth of foliage, feeling ever more certain that they were going to die out here. The rain began to fall–only a few drops at first, but in no time at all it became a deluge. The sun was undoubtedly gone by now, and anything they could use to light the way wouldn’t work in the rain. The only thing to do was wait it out.

Of course, the moment they sat down on one of the many fallen logs to wait out the rain, they made direct eye contact with…it was hard to tell. Its eyes glinted in the dark, and even over the rain they could hear it snarl, but it wasn’t until the thing lunged out of the brush that they could tell what it was–a massive wolf. They scrambled to their feet the second it moved, but they could feel the heel of their boot slip against the wet leaves coating the forest floor, knocking them over the log and onto their back. They could feel their head impact the ground far harder than they expected. Before they could attempt to stand back up, the beast was on them, sinking its teeth into their leg, moving to start tearing them apart…when suddenly it stopped, released them, and looked up, as though it saw something behind Charlie. Something that sent it into an immediate cowed state, tail between its legs, whimpering in fear. Charlie dared not look behind them. They had no desire for the last sight they ever saw to be the creature of nightmare that could scare away a ravenous predator. Perhaps if they were to lie still it would think them already dead and leave them alone. The blow to their head already had them teetering on the edge of unconsciousness–hopefully it would come soon.

The thing behind them did not leave. Instead, Charlie could feel a pair of arms–unquestionably human–reach beneath their body and lift them up. They were already cold from the rain, but the hands now holding them were even colder. They looked up at their savior–he was looking away, but somehow, even in the darkness of the storm, the last thing they saw before losing consciousness was his spectacles reflecting the moonlight.

–

Charlie woke to the crackling of flame, eye opening to reveal a beautifully decorated–but uncomfortably pristine, as though it had scarcely been used since the place was built–parlor, lit solely by the fireplace in the center. They were wrapped in a blanket and lying in a plush chair, but still wearing the same sodden clothes they’d collapsed in. However, they noticed that their boots were gone and one leg of their trousers was rolled up just enough to uncover the bite on their leg. Someone–they did not have to think too hard to guess who–had dressed the wound and propped the affected leg up on an ottoman. Just how long had they been out? They scanned the room for any sign of the stranger, but near as they could tell, they were alone.

It wasn’t for long, however, as they heard a door creak open behind them and the sound of footsteps approaching. They craned their neck around the chair to see their host–as they supposed it was appropriate to refer to him at the moment–approaching, holding in his hands a stack of folded clothes. He raised his eyebrows in what appeared to be (they hoped pleasant) surprise. “Ah, good. You’re awake. I was concerned–” He cut himself off abruptly, as though there’d been more to the sentence but he’d thought the better of saying the rest, then continued, “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I would have if you hadn’t arrived when you did,” Charlie answered. “Much better.” With a soft smile, they added, “Thank you for saving me.”

The stranger stiffened a little–was he blushing? It was hard to tell in such low light. “Of course,” he responded, with a tone as though he hadn’t expected any thanks. “You are…welcome.” Seemingly eager to change the subject, he quickly added, “You ought to change into drier clothes. I fetched you some while you were asleep,” and handed Charlie the stack of folded clothes. They took it and rose to their feet, a little confused by his behavior but grateful all the same. “I will return shortly,” he added, before turning for the door. “I don’t wish to infringe upon your modesty.”

He still seemed to be in the same distressed mood they’d seen earlier that evening, no matter how much he tried to conceal it. What’s more, now that the shock had mostly worn off, their mind was brimming with things to ask him–how had he known they were in danger? Why did he go to all this trouble to help them? What on earth did he do to scare away that wolf?–but they settled on the least uncomfortable one to ask.

“Before you go, sir…” they called after him, stopping him in his tracks, “may I ask for your name?” They paused for a moment, then added, “Oh, forgive me. Should have given mine first. My name is Charlie.”

He turned back to face them. Even still, even with the long, flickering shadows cast on him courtesy of the fireplace on the other end of the room, his glasses still caught the light in a way that concealed his eyes entirely. “It’s a pleasure to finally make proper introductions, Charlie,” he answered, and it may have been a trick of the light but one could almost swear he wore a faint smile. In that moment, Charlie wanted to capture the sound of his voice speaking their name in a bottle, that they might hear it again any time they wanted, but they pushed the desire out of their head.

The stranger continued, “It has been a long time since anyone has asked my name. You may call me Fate.” With that, he turned and left the room, stealing a look back at them right before he closed the door.

Charlie blinked as they stared at the now-closed parlor door. “Fate…” they murmured, turning the name over in their mouth. “What a fascinating name.”

#self ship #self shipping #selfship #self ship fic #r: curses #questionable writing tag

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