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#i got lost in spotify and i landed there

delicatebarness · 13 days

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i think he knows | chapter seven

Summary: How much exactly did Bucky get from the bet?

Warnings: I'm not crying, I'm sweating from my eyes.

Word Count: 1358

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A/N: This might be my favorite chapter so far. However, enjoy, I'll be back writing on Saturday <3

The room felt too small, you felt like you were suffocating with him standing this close to you. You could sense that you hurt him, his eyes lost the small glint of hope the second you said it. His head dropped, no longer looking down at you but more at his sock-covered feet.

“I wanted to talk to you,” His voice trembled, causing your heart to sink to the pit of your stomach. You didn’t know how to feel. “About everything.”

The memories of the weekend flooded back, causing your eyes to tear up. Here he was, standing in your room, willing to talk. You had the opportunity to get your answers, but, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to hear it.

“I, I don’t,” you stuttered as you began to flush, trying to find the right words without hurting him more. “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk,” you admitted softly, barely audible.

When he lifted his head back up to look at you, you watched a tear begin to fall down his cheek. His eyes were searching for something in yours, you weren’t sure what.

“Come for a ride with me,” he gestured toward your window, you assumed the open window was how he entered into the room earlier. “Let me take you for a ride, I promise it will only be a ride. We don’t need to talk, just,” he raised his hand to your cheek, barely touching it, he quickly pulled away stopping himself from going too far. “Please, come with me.”

Looking between Bucky and the window, you fought a silent battle in your mind not knowing what to do. Your mind, that was telling you that it was a bad idea. If you go with him, you’ll be giving him more power in the situation. Your heart was telling you the opposite. It told you what you felt that night at The Overlook was real enough.

Your mom’s voice began to overpower all the warning signs in your head, “If you truly want to know the truth, go with your heart. Your head will make up reasons to not do something that is meant for you” The advice she gave you on Friday night after giving you your space.

With a sigh, you nodded agreeing to go on the ride with him. His face lit up with glee as he rushed over to put his shoes and jacket back on. You set your textbooks and backpack down in their usual spot before heading to the window. Bucky climbed down first, waiting for you at the bottom. Looking up he watched as you sat in the same spot on the ledge as he did only a few nights back. Guilt once again rushed through his veins, it disappeared as quickly as it came when he noticed your heavy breathing while you looked down at the ground.

“I’m here,” he called up to you, bringing your attention to him rather than the hard ground below. He stood watching you, his arms pulled up toward you. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

A promise he kept, with his reassurance you began to climb down and once you were within reach, he helped you the rest of the way. As you landed, you crashed into his chest. Both of your breaths hitched, and looking up at him you caught the remorse in his eyes. For the first time since that moment with him at The Overlook, your mind went quiet.

The engine hummed below you, your mind eased while you pressed against his back again. The street lights began to turn on as you rode past them, the sun disappearing below the horizon. You could have sworn he rode down every street in the town, it felt like you had been riding for hours before he stopped the bike by the lake. The silence was deafening the second he stopped the engine.

You walked side by side down to the lake, taking his jacket off he laid it over the grass, gesturing for you to take a seat on top of it. You accepted the offer with a small smile. You sat with your knee up, chin resting on top. You could feel his gaze on you as he sat beside you on the grass.

The silence lasted the entire time you watched the sun set completely. It wasn’t until it had disappeared that you found the confidence to speak.

“Who won?” Your voice broke, and your throat felt scratchy as if you hadn’t used your vocal cords in months. Turning to look at him, you noted a confused expression on his face. “The bet, who won?”

“I promise you, this,” He gestured between the two of you, suggesting you and him were the ‘this’. “This had nothing to do with a bet.” He spoke with confidence, never breaking eye contact with you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, he was giving you the truth-telling signs but you weren’t fully convinced. “Sure, getting close to the quarterback’s sister, making her let down every wall, distracting her from everything she’s worked for, taking her first kiss,” the tears began to well in your eyes again, you wondered how, how were you still able to cry. “Doesn’t sound like one of your games, at all.”

Bucky’s expression faltered as he watched the tears stream down your flushed cheeks, he reached out, his hand hovering as he debated whether to touch you or not. “I messed up, I know, I’ve got a reputation.” He pulled his hand back, running it through his hair as he let out a breath. “But this, this is different. You’re different.” His eye pleaded to you as his voice softened. He needed you to believe him.

“How can I believe you? How do I know that you’re not just,” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence. You didn’t want it to be the truth, you desperately wanted to believe him.

“I wish I could make you understand that you mean more to me than you’ll ever know,” he sighed, his jaw tensed in frustration. “I knew you didn’t see me, for all these years, but I saw you.” He looked away from you, his gaze now focused on the water ahead of you. “I’m sorry, I did manipulate this, just not in the way you or Steve or anyone else would think.”

He stopped for a moment, he rubbed his face in his hand before back through his hair. He continued, cut you off as you began to speak. “I knew if Steve caught me looking at you, he’d tell you to stay away. I knew if he did that, you’d notice me and it was less of a risk to have you come to me than me come to you.”

“James, I -” He looked back at you as you tried to find the right words. They didn’t come. Instead, you reached your hand out to his cheek and pulled his face close to yours. For a few seconds, you locked your eyes with his, giving them a chance to show you a reason to not do what your heart was telling you.

He looked back at you with remorse and guilt, the kind that showed you his heart had pure intentions. They showed you just how much thinking he had hurt you, hurt him.

You allowed yourself to take a moment to get lost in them. Until his lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something. Pressing your lips against his, you silenced him.

The kiss was soft, bare. All the doubts and insecurities melted away with every passing second. You explored every inch of each other's mouths, not wasting a single opportunity. Your hand pulled his cheek, his fingers were tangled in your hair, and you both tried to pull each other closer.

When you finally pulled away, a spark of hope appeared over his smile, a genuine smile. Smirk is nowhere to be seen. You both caught your breath as your hearts pounded together.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can I call you, Sunshine?”

---

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

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Epiphany

✦ Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Father Figure Jake x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 1.7k

✦Warnings: Fluffy Jake, past relationship breakup, slight mention of Smut (18+ Content), protective Bradley

✦A/n: This was a fun one! I'm excited that we are seeing more of their relationship dynamics and how they became a couple. I also love big brother Bradley!!

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

Sitting back on your heels, you can’t help but hold some resentment for your new job. You had just transferred back to the North Island from Jacksonville, you’d wanted to be closer to family and when a job at Top Gun opened up you jumped on the opportunity.

While almost everyone assumed that your last name got you your current position, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. As the youngest Benjamin, a surprise baby fifteen years younger than your sister Penny, you had always been a daddy’s girl. Long before you had chosen to become an Administrate Service Manager to the current admiral, you had planned on following in the Benjamin footsteps and becoming a fighter pilot.

Though when you got pregnant just after the academy, your plans drastically changed. The move to Jacksonville was rushed and “planned” just so you could get as far away from your shattered dreams. So, when your application for a civilian position down in Jacksonville, was accepted, you couldn’t have been happier to make the move. Your ex wasn’t the happiest, only agreeing because of the pay increase your new job promised, but you were confident in the beginning of your new life.

You moved up the ranks quickly and loved your Navel family in Florida. Finding that even though you couldn’t fly, you could find other ways to focus on your love for planes.

Though when your relationship failed and Adam no longer wanted anything to do with Mathew, you knew that living close to family was what you both needed.

Deciding to move back after a 2 years was difficult, you were leaving the life that you built. Though the idea of getting as far away from Adam was a positive.

Plus, Bradley had moved back to Top Gun in the past year, and you couldn’t wait to see him, you both grew up together and he fell into the big brother position easily. Growing up you two were attached to each other’s hip, and he absolutely adored Maty. He was never a fan of your ex and when you moved he was even less pleased, but he still supported you and was only a call away.

Penny was ecstatic that you were moving back, and being the ever the doting auntie, offering to babysit Mathew until you could find a sitter, knowing that the new job would need your undivided attention.

Which lead to your current predicament, it was your first week on the job and you were already unbelievably frustrated. The last individual that held your job position, had no organizational skills, and hadn’t completed half the needed paperwork for Top Gun.

Landed you here, on the ground, working through your lunch, surrounded by paperwork that needed sorted. Cyclone had been clear that he wanted everything sorted before next week, and while Warlock told you not to worry, you couldn’t help but to be stressed out.

You hadn’t heard him approach over the sound of your spotify on shuffle, though the subtle cough pulled you from your work immediately. Standing in your doorway, looming over your seated figure, your eyes raked over the form of a pilot.

Decked in his flight suit, with perfect blonde hair and deep green eyes. A shade of green that looked eerily similar to Mathews, a shade that would be hard not to get lost in. You loved the color of your baby’s eye, you had no idea where he got them from, yet here stood a random man. With eyes that matched.

You tried to be sublet, but his physic was on clear display, and you hadn’t seen someone as handsome as him, since your obsession with the Jonas Brothers in middle school. He looked like he been running drills all morning, already sweating in the heat of the day. The white t-shirt under his flight suit, was near translucent and clung to him like a second skin.

The obnoxious though about what else lay underneath that flight suit rattled through your brain, but you were quick to push it away. You were in no way ready to date again, and Maty, well he was your number one priority. You wouldn’t put him through a situation like that again, which meant, at least for now, no hot pilots.

“Eyes up here darlin’”

Raising your eyes, you’re met with a cocky smirk. Clearly, he didn’t lack self-confidence and might need a slight ego check, but you weren’t the type to feel bad about appreciating the male form.

You meet his gaze, giving him a ‘what do you want look’ before going back to sorting papers.

Jake knew that he was handsome and though he had caught you staring, he was confused at how fast you went back to work, especially with him still in the room. Usually he couldn’t get women to stop talking to him. Giving them that signature smirk and they were on there knees, literally.

Yet here you were, completely brushing him off. He couldn’t deny that you were gorgeous and when he heard about a new girl in the admiral’s office, he couldn’t help himself and had to come over. You definitely didn’t disappoint with your looks; you were someone that he would have loved to have under him on a number of different occasions.

But yet, here you were completely ignoring him.

“I’m looking for Admiral Simpson.” You return your gaze to him, and hold it. Appearing completely unfazed. “Got any idea where his is, darlin’?”

Jake could see the light blush that covered your cheeks every time he called you darlin’ and couldn’t resist. You tried to remain just passive enough that he would leave, but wouldn’t consider you a bitch.

“Lunch”

The single word: the only damn thing that you had said to him, and Jake felt like you had knocked him upside the head. Your soft voice, that he wanted to describe as sweet as honey, was like music to his ears.

He wanted to hear you every day, in every damn way. He couldn’t deny that he wanted to know how you would sound moaning out his name. He was positive that you would be a strung-out whimpering mess for him, and just so damn pretty begging for him.

But the feeling of wanting to hear that voice in the morning, and how he was positive that you had the most beautiful smile. Those feelings were new, Jake Seresin didn’t do relationships.

It’s not like he was a man whore, no he had a great respect for woman, he just didn’t know how he felt about relationships.

His parents were no longer together, his dad had been a complete asshole, and was happy when his mother decided to leave him. Plus, he loved his job, he was positive that flying was the love of his life, and he didn’t have time for relationships.

Though you, with just one word, had somehow got him to think about the possibility of a relationship.

Oh, you would be the death of him.

Though before he could make another move, a hand clasped onto his shoulder spinning him around.

You didn’t miss the second set of feet this time and as you saw the Lt. get spun around you caught sight of the familiar mustache.

“What are you doing down here, Bagman?” the harsh tone of Rooster didn’t go unnoticed by Jake. The death glare that Rooster was giving him didn’t either, though he had no idea why. As far as Jake knew, Rooster didn’t have a girl, so what type of claim did he have over you.

“He was just looking for Cyclone, B.”

Jake whip back around to face you, so fast that he almost hit Rooster. His eyes went straight to you, though your eyes were already looking past him at Rooster.

Jake was lost now. You called Rooster B, with such affection behind your tone, that could only mean the both of you were close.

Looking back between the both of you and the teasing smile on each of your lips, Jake couldn’t stop the small pang that went through his chest.

Maybe you were Roosters girl, and he just didn’t talk about you? Or maybe you were just good friends, and he still had a chance… Jake didn’t know but he would find out.

Rooster stepped past Jake, coming to crouch down by your side looking over the different paperwork.

“God, they really threw you to the wolves, didn’t they?”

Silently nodding your head, you quickly grabbed the paperwork back from Bradley.

“I’ve got a system and you’re both” your eyes quickly went between the two pilots, “messing it up.”

Rooster gave a humorous laugh, and moved to stand back up. He looked back up at Jake whose eyes were already trained on you. A sense of cautionary optimism could be seen, and Rooster knew that he would be having a talk with Hangman.

“I just came by to tell you that we’re having dinner together tonight, Pen called and asked if I could drive you.”

You had yet to buy a car and had relied on Penny and Bradley to drive you around the past week. A slight inconvenience, though neither of them ever complained. They were just happy to have you and Maty back home.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I should be done around 5 or so.”

You gave him a quick smile, glancing to the other pilot, though Bradley had called him Bagman you knew that wasn’t his name, then back to your paperwork. If you wanted to get out by 5, you needed to focus. Meaning not staring at pilots, no matter how hot they are.

Bradley moved to leave you, knowing that you were trying to concentrate and didn’t want to piss you off. He had been on the receiving end of your anger once, and that was more than enough for him.

He moved past Jake giving him a silent look that said move your ass. Jake wasn’t one to follow orders from Rooster, though he wanted to ask him who you were, so he followed out. Looking back one last time to see your sitting form, completely focused and unfazed. He knew then, that whatever Rooster told him about you wouldn’t matter.

He wanted you,

And what Jake “Hangman” Seresin wanted, he got.

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oknowkiss · 5 months

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my lucky number - 42, drarry. please and thank you!

you got it! please enjoy! ~600 words, rated T for language. les champs-elysées - joe dassin

Harry decides to have breakfast in Paris. He’s twenty-one, it’s nine in the morning on the sixth of June, and the cleansing power of his hangover has allowed him to realise he can go anywhere he wants, with anyone, to do anything, for the rest of his life.

His Portkey lands in an alley a short distance from the Eiffel Tower, because after the agent had asked him where he’d like to go, and after he’d replied, “Erm… France?” she had said, “The first timer package, then. Return trip is half eight. Here’s your list of attractions and instructions for a basic translation charm.”

No matter. He has breakfast at a street-side cafe, espresso and carbs and sunlight quieting the pounding inside his head.

He visits several of the attractions on the Portkey agent’s list: the Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre. All of them are far too crowded, and by midday he’s resolved not to follow the list. After all, isn’t that the point of this excursion? To do what he wants?

Harry has a glass too many of vin rouge at lunch and his confidence inflates in direct opposition to his experience with France, his ability to manage having time to himself, his general awareness of his surroundings and how to navigate them.

Which is to say: it’s now seven, ninety minutes before his Portkey takes him back home, and all he’s done is become increasingly lost. Harry chews on a bite of pasta and wonders if it counts as being lost, if you never had a destination to begin with? Perhaps he’s been lost — or not lost — since leaving the Forbidden Forest four years ago. Every day a step further into the void, away from his intended purpose.

A loud, sudden coughing rouses Harry from his thoughts. Harry’s head snaps to the left, his hands already in fists, ready for action.

“What the bloody fucking hell are you doing here?” Draco Malfoy splutters, staring at Harry with watery eyes. Around them, several diners look away. A lover’s quarrel, they presume. In Paris? How droll.

“Malfoy?” Harry asks stupidly. It’s obviously Malfoy. No one else looks like him, which is actually quite annoying seeing as it means Harry can’t chalk it up to misconception when Malfoy sneaks into his wank fantasies.

And no, he doesn’t want to talk about that.

“The one and only, thanks to you,” Malfoy replies meanly. A steak sits half-eaten on his plate, red juice pooling on the china. It doesn’t not remind Harry of the second floor girls bathroom.

“If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ve got the wrong orphan,” Harry says. Then, because he’s already bored with this argument, “You live in Paris, do you?”

“What’s it to you?” Malfoy asks. He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Nothing, I suppose.” Harry shrugs. “Forget it.” He turns back to his food.

“It’s my birthday,” Malfoy says, calling Harry’s attention again. “Well, yesterday. This is my gift to myself.”

“Eating dinner alone?” Harry asks, amused.

“Go ahead and laugh—” Malfoy starts, but Harry cuts him off.

“I’m not laughing at you,” Harry says. “I—” He bites his lip. “I do the same thing.”

“Other people are exhausting,” Malfoy insists, his face red.

“Hell is other people,” Harry says. Then he's blushing, too. “I read that on a bag once.”

“And did it hurt, reading all those words in one go?” Malfoy says. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth.

Harry checks his watch. Half-seven. He looks down at his pasta. Mostly eaten.

“I’ve an hour before my Portkey,” Harry says, and he’s barreling forward blindly now, no idea where this will land. “Shall we order dessert?

(give me a number 1 - 100 & i'll write you a drabble based on the corresponding song on my spotify wrapped)

#this is based off the english translation of the lyrics so i really hope it's not wildly off the mark #wrapped drabbles #drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #my fic

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eddies-house · 11 months

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The Under-Ground

Chapter One - Welcome to The Under-Ground

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - In which you work at the local Hawkins coffee shop where you thought you'd be able to escape the horrors that were high school a few years after graduating. Until one of those horrors lands a job in the closing shift with you...and you have to train him.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

5K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I finished this sooner than I thought I would...pls let me know what you think, I am having so much fun writing this so far and I can't wait to keep going

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The chill Autumn air infiltrated the apartment and left you shivering, the wool blanket atop your comforter did little to aid you in getting warm. That’s what five hundred dollars a month got you in small town Hawkins, it's what you could afford. Old striped wallpaper that alternated a faded baby blue and pale yellow that seemed to have been glued to the wall since the 70’s barely clung to the walls, a majority of it peeling and begging to be torn off. The stained white linoleum throughout the kitchen had seen better days and the carpet in the living room and bedroom was dingy, so dingy that no vacuum could possibly come close to cleaning it. The lock on the door was on the verge of breaking and almost didn’t work–almost. And of course the heater was definitely broken, the creepy landlord would take his sweet time to fix it, leaving you with a freezing apartment as the seasons changed and Hawkins welcomed the fall. A broke college student by day and a barista by night, these are the cards you were dealt for now.

Classes at the community college had finished for the day, rotating to the night courses. A few papers were due next week, one for your business class on the effects of product promotion in business growth that happened to be stressing you out extra. Your fingers tapped away at your laptop from your mattress nestled in the corner on the floor of your tiny bedroom. 4:30PM, the time in the corner of the screen read, just half an hour before your shift at The Under-Ground. With a groan, you click save on the document and shut the laptop which was certain to be opened later tonight after your shift only to continue the torturous essay. Begrudgingly you began your pre-work ritual of grabbing whatever snack or meal you had in the fridge, scarfing it down, and then tidying your appearance a bit while listening to your daily playlist named “Eh” on Spotify. Today’s vibe was set by Dreams by Fleetwood Mac.

The rusty bathroom faucet sputtered water before allowing a full stream to flow into the sink. You splashed some water on your face to feel more alive although it may have been a mistake in hindsight since the apartment was already cold and rather than feeling refreshed, you felt like a wet dog. Dabbing your face with a towel hanging from over the rod where the tie dye shower curtain hung as well, you collected any leftover mascara from the previous night beneath your waterline and around your eyelids. Moving to the compact closet in the bedroom, a simple outfit of jeans and a maroon knitted sweater you’d ‘claimed’ from the lost and found at the college were chosen and paired with your only signature docs. Lastly, your apron was tied around your waist in a neat knot.

Grabbing your keys from the laminate countertop and shoving your laptop in your bag, you make your way through the damaged and scratched up wooden door that was the entrance to your apartment, the number seven nailed to the front of it. “God dammit.” you jam your key in and out of the lock, twisting and repeating until it finally clicks in place. The door leads right outside into the biting air and you scurry down the concrete stairs while avoiding touching the nasty railing, Mrs. Harrison’s chubby cat, Raphael is perched right at the bottom like he always is. His large green irises stare up at you, giving the appearance that he was just a fluffy ball of black fur with eyes. “Ralphy” you mumble your nickname for him affectionately as you steal a pat from his head on your way out of the apartments, a small meow chiming through the air.

The Under-Ground wasn’t a far walk but it sure did seem that way the colder it got. You’d been working there since the Spring and so far had no issues with weather but you knew it would bite you at some point. The walk through downtown Hawkins is crisp and cloudy, leaves blowing delicately from the trees and laying perfectly in the street, colors varying from red, orange, and brown. It was mid September. Patrons wander about the streets attending to their daily errands. Teenagers mess around at the entrance of The Hideout, no doubt attempting to use their fake IDs only to be turned away by the bouncer, Stan.

Joyce Byers cleans the storefront window of Melvald’s, taking care to not miss a single streak. Her face lights up as her son, Will approaches the store. Max Mayfield skateboards past you down the sidewalk at lightning speed, the only reason you know it's her is a flash of her flaming red hair as well as Lucas Sinclair trying to keep up with her on his own board, a nervous expression written on his features as he carefully maneuvers. Nancy Wheeler hurriedly gets into her car, wrapping up her workday at The Hawkins Post while Jonathan Byers gives her cheek a kiss and heads over toward Will and Joyce.

The Under-Ground comes into view as you round the corner, the brick building vacant of customers at the moment from what you can tell through the windows. The evening rush hasn’t picked up yet, usually kicking in at around six when the college students like yourself would make themselves at home and study over lattes and espresso shots. The bell chimes above the door as you pull it open, the smell of coffee beans and pastries flooding your nose and some upbeat jazz playing through the speakers. Robin sits atop the counter much to the boss, Ronnie's dismay but he’s not around to scold her. Her dirty blonde bob is freshly trimmed, bangs laying just right across her forehead while she has a lollipop sticking out her mouth and she skims through a magazine lazily. One leg is hitched up onto the counter with her bright yellow converse on display, knee to her chest. She’s wearing jeans with a few holes and a vintage tee. Her bright blue eyes glance up and land on you, face lighting up as she greets you. “Hey, Robin!” you greet back, making your way behind the counter to clock in on the computer.

“You’re lucky, it’s been dead for hours.” she says while setting aside the magazine. “Think it’s gonna rain too so it’ll probably stay that way.” she continues.

“Good, I can probably catch up on some homework then.” you hum, punching in your employee number.

“Oh and some new guy is supposed to close with you tonight, I think you’re training him.” she mentions.

“So, no catching up on homework then.” you sigh. Training someone new wasn't necessarily difficult however it was draining since you already knew how to do everything like the back of your hand. Dumbing it all down always took a minute since you had to slow down and give them time to catch on.

“Did Ronnie say who?” you ask, turning to face Robin. Hawkins was small which meant that everyone knew everyone. Which was unfortunate sometimes since that also meant everyone knew everyone's business.

Robin hops off the counter, hair bouncing as she does. “Nope, I just know that it's some dude.” she crunches down on her lollipop and discards the stick in the garbage a few feet away.

With a sigh, you head to the back room to put your bag in your locker only to find Steve lounging at the lunch table, his feet crossed on top of it while scrolling through his phone and two legs of the chair he occupies off the ground as he balances. Today he sports some red corduroy pants and an ivory crewneck sweater finished off with converse, just like Robin’s, only black. “What’s up?” he greets, not once looking up from his phone.

“Scrolling through Tinder again, Stevie?” you mock while setting your bag in your locker for safe keeping, hooking the lock around the metal and clicking it into place.

“Actually, it’s Grindr.” he says matter of factly.

“My bad, you find anyone cute?” you ask, peering over his shoulder, his aftershave smelling subtle and pleasant.

He lands on a cute blonde guy with green eyes, most likely from a town over. “Not really.” he exhales, running a hand through his voluminous hair.

“Well what about him? He’s pretty cute.” you encourage.

“Dude, it says he likes to do Karaoke for fun.” he glances behind at you with a raised brow. You shrug, unaware of why that would deter him.

“If that's not a red flag, I don’t know what is.” he states, shutting his phone off and shoving it in his pocket while standing, making his way to the vending machine. “What happened to me, Socks? I used to pull 'em left and right and now no guy or girl will give me the time of day.” Socks was your nickname given by Steve and Robin after the dreadful incident where a pipe burst from one of the sinks and you happened to be standing in front of it, the bottom half of your pants along with your socks becoming soaked. The rest of the evening you worked your shift without shoes, only in your sopping wet socks with your jeans rolled up. It had been an ongoing joke since, although you always reminded them how horrible it is to go around in wet shoes, the squeaky sound they would make against the floor and the squishiness of the soles. They always disagreed, insisting that it would be worse to work in only socks and how they’d just opt to continue wearing the drenched shoes.

“Steve, I think Grindr and Tinder and all the dating apps might be giving you unrealistic expectations.” you tell him truthfully.

“Okay, but who the hell else am I gonna find in Hawkins? Been there, done that, this is my only option." He inserts a dollar into the vending machine and punches in his selection, shortly after a bag of pretzels falls.

“Pretzels, Steve? Really?” you taunt. “How bland of you.” you deadpan. He pulls open the packaging and tosses a pretzel in his mouth all while giving you his signature pout. “Maybe that's your issue, you dumb yourself down for these people you don’t even know.” you continue.

“Wow.” he raises his arms in disbelief, a hint of humor evident. “That…” he flings a pretzel at you, hitting your chest. “...was mean.” he sasses. “But probably true.” he finishes. “Don’t you have a job or something?” his head tilts toward the door.

“Yeah, and so do you.” you shoot back, grabbing his apron from where it hung over one of the breakroom chairs and throwing it at him.

Exiting the room, you hear Steve chime in one more time. “I’m off in like fifteen!” Your shifts always overlapped with Steve and Robin’s, them usually taking the morning to afternoon shift and you taking over closing. Ronnie would always hang out in the back office so you didn’t have to close alone but that was pretty much the extent of his labor. The beans needed to be ground for the next day, chairs stacked on the tables, bathroom tidied, ingredients prepped, counters wiped down, etc. And you were always the one to do it, not that you minded so much. Ronnie never micromanaged and you had gotten good at closing so it became somewhat of a meditation time. The town winded down and the dim lighting provided a relaxing glow, almost as if you were in a spa. You could at least pretend anyway.

Robin was making herself a latte, carefully pouring the milk over the coffee in an attempt to make a design. She’d been practicing for weeks with no success. “Dammit! Another wasted latte!” she slams the small pitcher of cream onto the counter.

“That for me?” you question over her shoulder, spotting the blob of white draped over the coffee. You ended up drinking them most of the time, always looking forward to your daily latte handcrafted by Robin.

Letting a breath out, she hangs her head in defeat. “It is now.”

Steve saunters out from the back, stopping in his tracks right next to Robin. “Another one? Seriously?” he mutters before continuing to the espresso machine to make probably his fourth drink of the day.

“When is the new guy scheduled to come in?” you ask as you pour yourself an iced coffee. Everyone was allowed one free drink a day however it was never enforced unless the owner, Ronnie’s mom was around. She owned The Under-Ground while her husband owned The Hideout.

“5:30, I think?” Robin answers. The clock on the register currently reads 5:20. Steve glances at you, trying to hide a smirk as he quickly looks in the other direction.

“What?” you demand. Shaking his head he continues pouring an espresso shot into paper to go cup. A tug on his sleeve doesn’t get him to budge. “Steve, why did you give me that look?!” you hound him.

“Nothing!” he raises his hands in defense, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Steve.” you narrow your eyes at him, brows knit in frustration.

“Yeah, Steve. What do you know that I don’t?” Robin steps towards him while crossing her arms in offense.

“Nothing!” He lies, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Steve.” Robin glares at him.

“Y’know, this is already getting to me.” he points to his cup. “I gotta run to the bathroom.” he rushes to the back once again, holding his stomach and pretending to grimace in pain.

“What’s up with him?” you look at Robin, the two of you left standing there without any idea. She shrugs, handing you the botched latte she just made.

Pushing aside your theories, you begin setting up for your shift, restocking the cups and making sure there’s enough whip cream in the canister. The Under-Ground had a very cozy vibe, dark mahogany woods decorating the interior, little twinkly lights draped above the windows, and a snug book nook tucked away in the back corner with large shelves that took up the whole wall. Accompanying it are a few tables and chairs, their wood matching the counter and on top of each table sits various houseplants that you’d have to remind yourself to water.

Robin tops off the pastries as she always does at the end of her shift, adding some chocolate croissants, blueberry muffins, brownies, and a brand new lemon loaf to the case. She finishes off by wiping off the glass with a rag and then ensures the display of gift cards and bags of coffee beans on the counter is dusted off and pristine.

You busy yourself by restocking the to-go sandwiches in the open cooler at the front of the counter, making a note to also grab a few more parfaits from the back since those were running low as well. A few books are scattered among one of the tables so you take it upon yourself to collect them and tuck them neatly back on the book shelf. Other than that, nothing else is left to do and you should be ready to start training the new hire without any distractions. You reward yourself by sipping on the latte, the bitter taste gracing your tongue and warmth coating your throat. Robin disappears to the back briefly, coming back out with her bag while shoving her apron into it, ready to clock out the second it hits 5:30.

The roaring of an engine suddenly echoes in the streets, an obnoxious sputtering filling your ears as you glance up and out of the front window. It comes to a screeching halt as a motorcycle pulls up into one of the parking spots horizontally rather than vertically like the rest of the vehicles. Jackass, you think to yourself as the owner kicks the kickstand down. He wears a standard black motorcycle helmet, a leather jacket, ripped black jeans, and some combat boots, a walking stereotype for some kind of punk ass kid.

Jim Hopper catches him, his cop car parked a few spaces away while he does his crossword in the driver’s seat. You can’t quite make out what's being said but as Hopper exits his car in a hurry, you can tell they have most likely had run-ins like this before. The jackass looks up in aggravation as he still straddles the bike, the sky reflected in the visor of his helmet. Hopper appears to be telling him off but not giving him a ticket when he most definitely should. Jackass reparks the bike correctly, gesturing to it as if he’d performed a magic trick, Hopper with a hand on his hip and a scowl on his face. He points a finger at him, muttering one last thing before retreating back to his own car, eyes never leaving the guy.

Steve emerges from the back again, carefully. “Shit.” he mumbles.

Your gaze moves from the scene outside to behind you at Steve who is also now looking out the window. This provokes you to look back outside. Just as you’re about to ask, the jackass removes his helmet, revealing a head of wild brunette curls, his hand adorned in chunky rings as he grips the helmet. Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention back to inputting some inventory in the computer. Out of the corner of your eye you can see that he’s making his way toward the door. “Are you kidding me?” you say under your breath.

“Thought trendy coffee wasn’t his style.” you say to no one in particular. Steve inhales as if waiting for some kind of impact.

“Oh…” Robin says in some kind of realization.

The bell above the door rings as he swings it open, striding across the shop and in front of the counter, his eyes are a dark abyss as he looks from you to Robin and then to Steve.

“Munson.” Steve acknowledges him.

“Harrington.” he says back, a tinge of disgust rolling off his tongue. Robin’s eyes are wide as they shift between you two.

“What do you want, Eddie?” you bite, voice full of malice as you glare up at him.

Bringing his hand to his chest, his face contorting into a mock pout, he sets the helmet on the counter. “Ouch. That make you feel better, sweetheart?” Sarcasm drips from his tone.

You scoff about to tell him to leave but he just continues. “Make you feel all big and bad? Get it out of your system yet?” he taunts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh no.” Robin says quietly, leaning over you to clock out and then subtly making her way around the counter.

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here and find someone else to dick around with?” you snap, grabbing his helmet and forcing it into his hands.

A cocky look takes over his features. “Well what if I’m a paying customer?”

“I have the right to refuse service so, I’m refusing.” you can feel anger coursing through your veins, blood running hot.

“That’s unfortunate.” he frowns, moving to make his way behind the counter. “For you.” his stare burns into you, two black holes nearly swallowing you up.

“I don’t have time-” you begin but are cut off when he reaches over you and starts typing away at the computer, clocking in. His cheap cologne and cigarette smoke flood your nose.

Steve looks at you apologetically as Eddie passes him on his way to the back. A silence lingers as you process that you’ll be forced to work with the one person in this town you can’t stand. Eddie Munson was the new hire and of course he had to be scheduled on the closing shift with you. Life couldn’t get any worse than this, a shitty apartment, and now a shitty job that you used to love combined with mountains of homework. Your eternal hell. Work was supposed to be a place you could briefly escape. Sure it was still work but you didn’t mind.

“Steve!” both you and Robin scold him at the same time. He squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for more yelling.

“You knew Ronnie hired him and you just didn’t tell me!” you seethe. “You could have warned me! I could have switched shifts or something-or, or–or tell Ronnie he’s a criminal or something! So he wouldn’t get hired!” your eyes are bulging out of your head as you reprimand the poor guy.

“Okay, see, the way you're reacting right now doesn’t give me any confidence that you would have reacted any differently if I told you earlier.” Steve explains while clocking out.

“So you think springing it on her like that was any better!” Robin says loudly. Steve contemplates for a moment.

“Look, Socks. I’m sorry.” he apologizes sincerely.

“Socks?” Eddie stands in the doorway that leads to the back, now free of his leather jacket and wearing a black Metallica tee. “What kinda fucked up thing did you do for a nickname like that?” he asks, a smug grin on his face.

“Oh, kill me now.” you drag your hands down your face in agony. Steve and Robin slowly make their way toward the front door, looking at you sympathetically.

“See you tomorrow?” Robin awkwardly points finger guns at you before they speed up and shuffle out the door.

You sigh heavily, dropping your arms limply to your sides. Turning around, Eddie is about to speak up again but you cut him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it. You don’t talk unless it's about work. I’ll train you today and then I’ll ask Ronnie to move you to mornings or something.” you tell him in one breath.

He laughs before replying. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Hate to be the bearer of bad news but you’re stuck with me, doll.” he chuckles lowly. “I only work nights.” he says with that stupid grin.

“Who did I piss off for this to happen?” you mumble to yourself, rubbing at your temples. “Put this on.” you shove an apron at his chest.

He grunts at the impact. “No.” he simply says, refusing to grab it from you. His expression is blank.

Scoffing, you shove it against him even harder. “This is work. We work here. Stop acting like a damn child.” you say sternly.

Now taking the apron in his hand, you think he’s finally come to his senses until he bunches it up and tosses it onto one of the counters, eliciting a groan from you. You were foolish to think he would play nice.

–

Trying to train Eddie was as useful as training a fly. He didn’t listen and would purposely mess things up claiming he didn’t know any better and he almost charged one of your only customers that night double the actual cost. It was like watching a toddler, you couldn’t take your eyes away from him or all hell would break loose. The cherry on top was all the snide comments he would make which led to more bickering.

When it came to closing time at 9:00, you were exhausted and could practically feel the eyebags hanging off your face. There was not enough espresso in the world to keep up with Eddie’s antics. You were counting the money from the register, making sure all was accounted for, Eddie watching as he was supposed to be learning when really he was zoned out.

“Alright, Socks, are we done here?” he says with a bored tone.

You glance between him and the cash, still counting under your breath while ignoring him. Poking your arm, he tries again. “Socks. I got things to do.” he continues. “Hey, I’m talking to you–”

“--Oh my god, just go.” you break, finally completing your counting and setting the money back in the drawer neatly.

“Fuck yeah.” he whispers, rushing to the back to collect his things. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you only hope he quits before you have to work another shift with him. Eddie wasn’t just an asshole, he was the asshole who was partially responsible for your shitty high school experience. You know it's dumb, there’s no reason to let something keep a hold on you for so long but it just does. It makes you cringe, it's like the equivalent to peaking in high school but opposite, and yet you can’t seem to look past it.

Nothing but the twinkly lights and the dim overhead lights lit up the shop, a moment of peace taking over you while the town outside laid itself to rest. Shutting off the music and untying your apron to drape it over your arm, you do one more scan to make sure everything is set for tomorrow. Satisfied, you head to the back to retrieve your bag. Eddie passes you, almost running you over on his way out, his stupid helmet in hand.

“See ya tomorrow, Socks.” he salutes as he clocks out, shortly after you hear the bell chime signaling that he had left. He was overusing that nickname but you knew it would only please him to call it out. You had to keep your cool until he figured out he didn’t fit in here and quit. Exhaling, you unlock your locker, grabbing your bag and tossing your apron in before exiting and heading for the door.

The door is locked and double checked as you step out onto the sidewalk only to find that it was still raining. Just my luck. Eddie’s dumb motorcycle roars to life again a few feet away from you, a nuisance to the tranquil town around you. Rolling your eyes, you begin your damp journey home. It’s not until you’re in front of the movie theater that you hear that damn bike behind you. You think he’s going to speed past you, maybe splash some water on you while he’s at it but the engine rumbles as if right next to you–which it was.

“Are you lost?” you spit, continuing to walk.

He rides beside you slowly, irritating you to your core. “Need a ride home?” he asks, slightly muffled by his helmet.

You huff before responding. “No. I don’t need anything from you. Get the hell out of here.” You keep your gaze straight ahead as you walk, him still following behind.

“Sweetheart–”

“--Do NOT call me that. Ever. Again.” you scold, taking a moment to point your finger at him, your face displaying disdain toward him.

“Look, I may be an asshole but it's raining. I can give you a ride.” he coaxes but it doesn’t work. You keep on, the rain drops collecting on your eyelashes.

“Get bent, Eddie.” you say, now walking faster, hoping to evade him.

He lifts the visor on the helmet, now showing his eyes as he keeps up with you. “Get on the damn bike.”

“Fuck you.” you snap at him.

Desperate, you start jogging across the crosswalk and that's when he gives up. Glancing behind you, he flips the visor down and revs the bike before speeding off. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t going to play into his little sadist games. Life was already steamrolling you and you did not need some jackass to factor into it. After a few minutes of walking, you finally rounded the corner and the faded powder blue apartments came into view, street lights illuminating the way. The streets were sleek with rain and oil, giving off reflections of the traffic lights and buildings. You were careful to scurry your way across the parking lot to avoid any of the creeps that hung around late at night. It wasn’t exactly the best area, being notorious for drug deals and any other illegal side hustles.

Raphael’s spot on the stairs was vacant due to the downpour which you frowned at, you always looked forward to seeing him upon coming home. A few skeezy looking men stood nearby however they seemed to be involved in their own drama as they argued and took no interest in you. Gratefully, you continued quietly up the stairs and hurriedly unlocked the door, jamming the key in the lock until it gave out to you.

Slipping into your nightly routine, you begin to unwind as much as you can. A quick shower awaited you since the hot water was limited and you couldn’t wait to munch on one of the sandwiches you snagged from work. In your defense Ronnie had ordered way too many for the week and the back fridge was overflowing with them. The local deli they came from, Anderson’s had some fairly good quality meats and cheeses so for that you were thankful as they pretty much kept you fed. Tonight’s would be turkey and swiss with mayo on sourdough, your favorite. The lights flickered on as you hit the switch, another quirk that came with the run down apartment. The living room and entryway were now bathed in a warm and quite dim glow, or in other words if you wanted to read a book, it’d be quite difficult to see. Shivering from being drenched in rain, you set your bag on the kitchen counter adjacent to the entryway and start taking off your damp clothes, peering into your room to toss them into the hamper and slipping into the bathroom. It was a tight space, not a whole lot of room to do much but it was home.

Turning the faucet to ‘hot’, you wait for the water to get warm enough to bear, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom still bothered you no matter how long you lived there. You stood on the bath mat feeling the water with your finger until it was to your satisfaction, stepping in and feeling welcomed by the sudden warmth you’d been waiting for all day. In that moment you feel relief from the pressures of the world, the deadlines, bills, loans, essays, all of it. Everything melts away for approximately three minutes and that's when the water starts to turn cold again, returning you back to the dreadful reality you wish you could neglect.

But to your dismay, the cycle just starts all over again, keeping you hostage.

~end~

Next ->

Masterlist

tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie x fem reader #eddie x female reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson angst #barista!eddie #eddie munson fic #eddie fic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fluff #the under ground

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certifiedmattl0ver · 28 days

Text

CARNIVAL

Summary: its js smut not much of a backstory really

dom!chris x fan!reader

warnings: smut, p in v, oral m receiving, degrading, overstim, spanking, choking, riding

a/n: this story is a part of @annamcdonalds67 writing contest

Chris pov:

i don't know how i managed to get a fan in my bed, but I did. she pushed me up against the wall in my room and started to kiss my neck. i started taking off her shirt to reveal more of her body. she had been wearing a cropped tank top and the way it outlined her tits made me drool. ''how about you stop staring and let me fuck you'' she said. god, I love dominant women, but not tonight.

we were now on the bed. i stayed sat on the edge, and she was on her knees in between my legs. she started to kitty lick my tip, teasing me. ''don't tease slut'' she then took my whole length, looking up at me every once in a while, gagging a bit each time she went up and down. i can't lie, she gives amazing head and she definitely deserves an award for that. i was really close to cumming but I couldn't no matter how good the head was. ''how about you ride my dick baby'' she removed her mouth from my dick and I wince a bit from the loss of heat and stimulation.

y/n pov:

i don't know how i got into chris sturniolos bed, but I did, and now i was about to ride him. i straddle him and push his chest back so he's laying down. i position his dick with my entrance and slowly go down at a pace that annoyed chris. in all honesty, i don't think i can take chris's whole length. chris scoffed, grabbed my hips, and slammed me down on him. i moan louder than i had intended to from his movements. as he had said earlier, i started to ride his dick at a pace that seemed to send him to cloud 9. his eyes were crewed shut and he was letting out low moans.legs shaking, and lustful sounds coming out from my mouth,

chris started to thrust upwards into me, pushing deeper than he was before. i roll my eyes back and my mouth hangs open as chris thrusts into me at a steady pace. ''you're so d-deep'' I manage to mutter. ''yeah? you feel me inside ya ma?'' ''f-fuck yes... I'm gonna cum chris..'' chris pulls out, and flips me over so I'm in doggy. ''hold it.'' he starts ramming into me at a speedy pace going both fast and deep, making me scream. ''shut up slut'' he says as he hardly spanks my ass. ''c-chris please I need to cum'' I plead out. ''i said fucking hold it bitch didn't you hear me?'' he says as he grabs a handful of my hair, pulling my head off of the bed. i had lost it. i couldn't hold back anymore, and I came. chris stops all his movements. he pulls out, and lets go of my hair. the only thing I could hear was his heavy breathing and my panting. ''chris I'm sorry i-'' I get cut off by chris moving me so I'm on my back. ''since you can't fucking listen, I'm gonna fuck you until you can.'' chris props my legs up on his shoulders, and starts relentlessly going in and out of me. i didn't even know it was humanly possible to move that fast. my mouth was open, but nothing came out. i was sweating, my hair messed up, and struggling to not cum again, suffering from the overstimulation. ''chris, please... I'm gonna cum again'' chris completely ignored me, keeping his pace. he made eye contact with me, and i felt i shiver down my spine. his blue eyes, filled with lust, his brown locs pushed back with his hands, sweat dripping from his forehead and chest, and his mouth slightly open, letting out groans now and then. chris takes both of his hands and slowly leads them up to my neck, maintaining eye contact, he chokes me. i swear i could've came from that alone.

chris's pace started to stutter, signifying that he was close. ''cum on my dick ma. you know you want to.'' he's right. i really needed to. so I did. not long after chris pulls out and jerks himself, his release landing on my stomach.

chris pov:

i cant believe i just fucked a fan. to be honest it was great, but I just hope that this doesn't get out to the internet. everything abut her was great. her head was top tier, and she rides me like I were a ride at a carnival. i'd for sure have to keep her around for a while.

THE END HOES!!

what do we think? ts took me 3 days to write because of these stupid assignments I have to do. ANYWAYSSS love you lots!!

#sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #carnival #kanye west

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womanexile · 3 days

Text

Peter

Forgive me Peter

My lost fearless leader

In closets like cedar

Preserved from when we were just kids

Is it something I did?

The goddess of timing

Lay Down (HS unreleased)”We were never meant to make it, This time”

I Love You- “maybe if I got my timing right, I wouldn’t end up alone”

Once found us beguiling

She said she was trying

Peter, was she lying?

My ribs get the feeling she did

And I didn’t wanna come down

I thought it was just goodbye for now

Suburban Legends-“when you told me we’d get back together”

Sigh of the Time-“we can meet again somewhere, somewhere far away from here”

Your said you were gonna grow up

Then you were gonna come find me

Said you were gonna grow up

Then you were gonna come find me

Said you were gonna grow up

Then you were gonna come find me

MMITH-“I gotta get better, I gotta get better”

Words from the mouths of babes

Promises oceans deep

Don’t Let Me Go (HS unreleased)-“I promised one day that I'd bring you back a star”

But never to keep

Oh, never to keep

I Love You-“I didn’t come back and I wasn’t there”

To Be So Lonely-“don’t blame me for falling, I was just a little boy” “Wasn’t ready for it all”

Little Freak-“I disrespected you Jumped in feet first, and I landed too hard, A broken ankle, karma rules”

Are you still a mind reader?

A natural scene stealer?

I’ve heard great things, Peter

But life was always easier on you

Than it was on me

Slut!-“I’ll pay the price, you won’t”

NTWDT-“You went to a party, I heard from everybody, You part the crowd like the Red Sea”

Willow-“life was a willow and it bent right to your wind”

And sometimes it gets me

When crossing your jet stream

We both did the best we could do

Underneath the same moon

In different galaxies

Lay Down (HS unreleased)”Two Hearts are divided, Now that we’re worlds apart

And I didn’t wanna hang around

We said it was just goodbye for now

And I won’t confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn

This Love-“lantern burning, flickered in my mind for only you”

DBATC-“chandelier’s still flickering here”

Golden-“I’m hopeless, broken, so you wait for me in the sky”

As the men masqueraded, I hoped you’d return

With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you’d learned

‘Cause love’s never lost when perspective is earned

And you said you’s come and get me, but you were twenty-five

Sunflower Vol. 6-“but I’ve been trying hard no to act a fool” “let me inside, I wanna get to know you”

And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired

Lost to the “Lost Boys” chapter of your life

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried

To hold on to the days

When you were mine

But the woman who sits by the window

Has turned out the light

Taylor also references Peter in cardigan

“Peter losing Wendy”

The cardigan mv has many parallels to Harry’s Falling mv

youtube

On the Spotify canvas for Peter it has the typewriter set at 20. 20 is a Haylor number.

#haylor #taylor swift #harry styles #the tortured poets department #Youtube

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starlightkun · 1 year

Text

❧ word count: 11.9k

❧ warnings: cursing, mentions of death/dead people in the context of him being hades, probably more legal jargon than there should be but i tried to make it as easy to understand as possible i promise, it gets pretty existential at some points but never overtly angsty

❧ genre: fluff, getting together, greek gods/goddesses au, hades jaemin, human reader, nades au, paralegal reader, bit of a ham-fisted persephone allegory, inspired by the gods/goddesses assigned to the work it unit in 2020 for this video, appearances by bestie jeno and coworker yangyang

❧ author’s note: ahhh my first fic back after over a year hiatus!! not super accurate to the original greek myths, i was just havin fun with hades as a concept rather than a strict characterization. i also watched mike flanagan’s ‘midnight mass’ and read john milton’s ‘paradise lost’ during the time i was writing this so get ready for some slight spiritual/religious iconography and overtones. hope y’all enjoy, i had so much fun playing around with my writing in this one!!

❧ spotify playlist

⤷ sequel

The god’s—Jaemin’s—eyes continued to stare you down. It felt like he was looking into your soul. And you wanted him to.

“I didn’t summon you,” you told him cautiously. “Or at least I didn’t try to.”

“Okay, so I’m thinking she could accidentally be pushed into oncoming traffic—”

“And who exactly would be doing this accidental pushing?” You cut Jeno off with a scoff.

Currently, you were laying on your back on your bed, head hanging off the end of it and phone in hand. Your best friend, Lee Jeno, was on the other end of the line, jokingly scheming to get you a job at his workplace. Jeno somehow worked as a legal assistant at the best civil law practice in your city, and you, on the other hand, were unemployed. This was what you got for taking an extra year to get your master’s degree to become a paralegal instead of immediately jumping into the workforce after undergrad.

That was where you and Jeno had met: Intro to Philosophy on your very first day of college as two bright-eyed freshmen with surprisingly similar career goals and the same taste in 00s pop punk bands. Now you were a year and a half past graduating with your bachelor’s, and six months past your master’s. And what had that extra effort gotten you? Many, many interviews that all ended the same way: You’re “an incredible applicant,” but “too educated” for the pay of the position and/or “too inexperienced.”

Jeno, on the other hand, had declined your suggestion to further your education together and instead landed himself a legal assistant job right out of college. So now here you were, living off the remnants of your student loans and savings as you desperately hunted for a paralegal job.

Your best friend’s elaborate plans to get you a job at his firm would typically make you laugh, but this time you couldn’t even muster up a chuckle. Earlier today when you checked your bank accounts during a break from emailing out your résumé, you were confronted with the fact that your savings were running out; you didn’t have enough to even get you to the end of your lease in six months.

“God will, duh,” Jeno said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His current plan was centered around a junior partner’s paralegal dying of a myriad of mysterious causes, and apparently this time involved divine intervention too.

“Oh, right, of course,” you rolled your eyes.

“I’m serious about the fact that Yejin needs to go, though. I have no clue how she’s still employed. And you would be the perfect fit for Ms. Haseul, she kind of does a little bit of everything, but her main focus is general corporate representation. Wasn’t that what you specialized in for grad school?”

“It is, yes.”

“Then there we go!”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Jeno.”

You sighed. All this talk about a job that you’ll never have was bringing down your spirits. “Anyway, I have half a leftover pizza in the fridge calling my name right now. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye, Y/N! I’ll keep my ears peeled for any sign of dissent in the ranks so you can slip your way in!”

“Right, bye.”

Hanging up, another sigh tumbled out of your mouth as you tossed your phone somewhere further up your bed. Truthfully, you weren’t hungry in the slightest, you just wanted to get out of that conversation. You brought your hands to your face to rub circles against your temples and closed your eyes; you were getting a headache. Hanging upside down off the foot of your bed certainly wasn’t helping, but you couldn’t be fucked to move at this point.

A moment of self-pity later and you opened your eyes with all intentions to get up and take your migraine medication, but you froze when you were met by a dark shape. Squinting, it took you a second to process that the shape was someone’s legs and shoes, and you let out a yelp. Startled, you went to twist yourself around to face whoever was in your room, but just managed to fall off your bed instead. You very narrowly avoided snapping your neck, landing on your shoulder instead, eliciting yet another yelp, but this time one of pain.

Scrambling to your feet, you were now face to face with the intruder. It was a man, younger, maybe around your age, donned in all black. Black shoes, black slacks, black suit jacket, and black vest underneath that was buttoned but with a neckline cut plenty low enough to show a good expanse of his chest. He had an eerie beauty to him: his face just bordering on gaunt with pronounced cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and a hint of bags under his eyes as if he had just woken up from a night of restless sleep. But he didn’t seem to have recently awoken, very much alert and well put-together in every other aspect. His black hair was perfectly styled back from his face save for one stray lock towards the middle, and his eyes were so dark they reminded you of black holes, threatening to sweep you away forever into a cold unknown. He had more piercings than you could count in the moment, silver and the odd jewel adorning his ears. The vest showed off four or five separate silver chains around his neck.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” You breathed out, desperately trying to blink away the vertigo from your sudden change in orientation.

The man was between you and the doorway, his body language not indicating that he was blocking your way out intentionally. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his pants as he cocked an eyebrow up at your question. He seemed entirely relaxed and yet the air around you still felt as if it were growing colder by the second.

“I should be asking you that. What the hell am I doing in your apartment?” He repeated your question back to you, amusement in his tone as he studied you from head to toe, then back up.

“What?”

“I was summoned by someone. I’m not summoned often, usually Eros or Aphrodite are at the beck and call of humans.”

The names made your head spin, “Eros? Aphrodite? Like, the Greek gods?”

“Yes, of course.” One of his hands left his pocket, the many rings along his fingers glistening in your ceiling fan lights as he went to push the stray lock of hair back from his face. “Humans are always wishing for love or beauty or fame. Not as often are they wishing for my gifts, or at least not with such an intensity that I’m inclined to entertain those wishes.”

Something about his candor inclined you to ask, “Who are you?”

“I’ve had a couple names. Pluto, and you probably recognize me as Hades. But you can call me Jaemin.”

His words made your heart thunder in your chest once again. You wanted to tell yourself that this guy was crazy, but he sounded so assured and calm that it gave you pause. Not mention that he had just appeared in your home out of nowhere.

“Hades? God of the Underworld? In my apartment?”

“The very same. Please, call me Jaemin. As long as I can call you Y/N.”

“Oh, you know my name already,” you stated weakly.

The god’s—Jaemin’s—eyes continued to stare you down. It felt like he was looking into your soul. And you wanted him to.

“I didn’t summon you,” you told him cautiously. “Or at least I didn’t try to.”

He took a step towards you. “And yet here I am.”

Another step. “I was brought here by a desire, your desire. So, what do you really, really want, Y/N?”

His words dripped off his tongue and wound their way through your mind. “A loved one back from the dead? The death of an enemy? To die yourself? So much money you could never spend it all in one lifetime?”

Another step.

“No, none of those,” you shook your head vigorously, feeling like every sense of yours was alight with his proximity to you. Every sound was deafening, your skin tingled, and the scent of cinnamon and citrus danced around you. One more step and he’d practically be on top of you. “I don’t want any of that.”

Another step. He was right in front of you now, his startlingly cool breath washing over your face as he asked, “Then what do you want?”

“I just—” your hands were clenched into fists at your sides, fingernails digging into your palms as you struggled to find the words. “Want to work at Kim & Moon.”

Jaemin’s head cocked to the side as he studied your face, “Why?”

“It’s the best civil law firm in the city. I know it’s where I belong, if I could just get a job there, I know I’d do well.”

“This job? Does it pay well?”

“I-I don’t know,” you confessed. “Jeno hasn’t ever told me how much he makes, but that’s only part of why I want to work there. If all I cared about was paying my bills, I would’ve taken the first job at any sleazy ambulance chaser’s office I could find. But I’d be wasted on something like that. I’m smart, well-studied, and I’ll be good at what I do. I just know it.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah, I like that.”

Then all at once, Jaemin was no longer in front of you, and you felt like you could breathe properly again. He dropped himself onto your bed, settling in to recline leisurely against your headboard, legs crossed at the ankle.

“Alright, I’ll grant your wish,” he declared, slipping one of his rings off to roll it along his knuckles. The silver band caught the light and nearly distracted you from his words.

Pulling yourself out of your momentary trance, you immediately said, “But I didn’t ask you to—”

“Of course you did, or I wouldn’t be here. Do we really have to go through this again?” His eyes were fixed on the ring. “Now do you want that job or not?”

“If I say yes, what do you want in return? I doubt Hades himself is in the business of charity.”

“Smart. There will be an exchange, obviously.”

“Then my answer is no, I don’t want to be selling my soul or something.”

Jaemin suddenly flicked the ring up, watching as it did one, two, three flips in the air before landing in the palm of his hand, “As lovely as I’m sure your soul is, I’m not particularly interested in taking it.”

“Well then what would you want from me?”

“A third of your life.” He said it simply, as if you two were talking about him borrowing a cup of sugar, not your life.

“Wh—”

“Let me finish,” he instructed sternly, firm gaze once again on you. “Spend two-thirds of your year here, then spend the remaining third of it with me.”

“If I take four months off work I won't be able to keep the job you get me.”

“It doesn’t have to be consecutive. Give me your nights and I’ll call it even.”

“Why? Why me? Why would you give me so much for just… hanging out with you?”

He shrugged, “I’m tired of spending all my time with dead people.”

Despite his casual tone, you swore you saw something much sadder flash across his face for a moment. It was gone as soon as you had registered it, making you wonder if you just imagined it. When you remained quiet, chewing on the inside of your cheek in thought, he stood up and crossed the room to once again stop just a mere inch or two in front of you, “Do we have a deal, Y/N?”

A chance to use your degree and skills like you’d always dreamed, just for hanging out with a god every night? It sounded... not quite too good to be true, but definitely too easy. You couldn’t remember Hades being portrayed as a tricksy sort in the myths, and everything Jaemin had done tonight—aside from appearing in your room out of the blue—made you think that you could probably trust him.

“Yeah, sure,” you agreed, looking up from where you had been twiddling your thumbs anxiously to his hauntingly beautiful face. “Do we have to do anything to make the deal official or whatever?”

“What, like a kiss?” He grinned at you mischievously. “Since you asked…”

“Jaemin!” You scoffed, feeling like he was teasing you now.

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“No I didn’t!”

“Anyway, a handshake will do just fine,” Jaemin held his right hand out in the small space between your bodies.

You took it, feeling the cold from his fingers seep into your own, and gave it one firm shake. Before you could take your hand back, he’d tightened his grip and turned it over. His other hand came up to slip a ring onto your ring finger. It was the same silver band he had been playing with before, and it magically changed size to fit your finger perfectly. Jaemin bowed slightly, bringing your hand up to press a feather-light kiss to the knuckle of the very finger he’d just put the ring on. His lips were cool like the rest of him, but you still felt warm at his actions.

“There,” he straightened back up and let go of your hand finally. “That should do it.”

You looked down at the ring he’d just put on your finger. It was a simple silver band of medium width that reminded you of your father’s wedding band.

“Goodbye for now, Y/N.”

“Yeah—” you cut yourself off when you brought your eyes up to see that Jaemin was gone. Staring at the empty space where he just was, you murmured, “Bye, Jaemin.”

That night you dreamt of a man cloaked in shadows guiding you to a tree, instructing you to pick the golden fruit that was growing on it. You gazed at the fruit, in a daze, mesmerized by their beauty. They were so inviting, the man’s voice soothing, and you lifted a hand up towards one.

You groaned against the bright sunlight streaming in through a crack between your curtains. Directly on your face. You threw your left arm over your eyes to block it out as you continued lying in bed, letting your mind and body wake up gradually.

Memories of last night’s visitor came back to you, and you sighed. Surely it was a dream. A weird, weird dream that your mind conjured up in an attempt to fulfill your wish for a job.

But when you squinted your eyes open and brought your right hand up enough to look at your fingers, the silver band that sat there let you know that it was real. You’d been visited last night, by Hades, who said he’d grant your wish for a job in exchange for a third of your life. And you said yes.

The loud sound of your phone buzzing on your nightstand prompted you to roll over and grab it to look at the caller ID. Lee Jeno.

“Yeah?” You couldn’t even muster up a proper greeting as you picked up, still bogged down by sleep.

“Y/N, great news!”

You glanced at the time on your phone before bringing it back up to your ear, “Jeno, it’s not even 9:30 a.m., why are you calling me? You can’t be on lunch.”

“I know, but as soon as I heard, I had to tell you!”

“Tell me what, exactly?”

“There’s a job opening at the firm! You have to apply!”

That woke you up.

“An opening?” You asked, shooting up into a sitting position.

“Jo Haseul, the junior partner at the firm I’ve been telling you about, her paralegal won the lottery and quit on the spot. No two weeks’ notice, they’re urgently hiring her replacement. I’ll text you the firm administrator’s email for you to send your résumé to!”

“That would be great, thank you, Jeno.”

“Of course!” He said brightly as another phone began ringing in the background. “I’ve got to go now, Ms. Kang is buzzing me.”

“Right, thank you again.”

“Bye!”

“Bye,” you brought your phone down to see he had already ended the call.

As you went to grab your laptop from the foot of your bed to begin drafting that email, your eyes got caught by the silver ring on your hand.

A week later and you were walking into your first day of work at Kim & Moon. The firm administrator, Jeong Jaehyun, was showing you around, and finally stopped his tour in an open-floor plan portion of the office where a grouping of eight desks were. A couple of them were empty, the others filled by various men and women hard at work, and also Lee Jeno.

“Y/N!” Jeno waved at you enthusiastically from where he was on the other side of all the desks, and you lifted your hand to give a small wave back.

“Oh, you know Lee Jeno?” Mr. Jeong asked as he guided you over towards your friend.

“Yes, we were in the same undergrad program.”

“Good, it should be easier to settle in with a familiar face nearby.” The administrator smiled as he gestured to the empty desk behind your friend. The one beside it was occupied by another young man incredibly focused on his screen, headphones in as his fingers flitted over his keyboard and he fervently typed out a court document.

“This is your desk, Ms. Y/L/N. Ms. Jo, your attorney, is on a call right now but she has been informed of your arrival. I’m sure she’ll meet with you when she can. In the meantime, please acquaint yourself with your workspace. Your computer is already logged in, and all of your passwords are on the paper right there. Is there anything you need at the moment?”

“No, no. Thank you so much, Mr. Jeong,” you bowed your head politely to him.

“Of course. Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.” He pointed to the landline sitting on your desk next to the computer monitors, “I have a quick-dial button right next to Reception’s. Buzz me if you need something.”

“I will, thank you.”

And with that, Jeong Jaehyun took his leave of the pod that you were in. You sat in your chair, taking in the sparse supplies on your desk: two computer monitors, keyboard, mouse, a landline phone, a couple pens, and one sheet of paper laid across your keyboard. It was a list of your login credentials for your computer, work email, and the firm’s file management software, along with Mr. Jeong’s extension and quick-dial button name.

You turned back around to where you knew Jeno was already waiting for you. Your friend was practically vibrating with excitement in his own desk chair.

“This is so exciting!” Jeno exclaimed, momentarily drawing the attention of all the other employees in your vicinity before they went back to whatever they were doing. He continued on much quieter, “I told you you’d kill it at your interview.”

“Right,” you nodded, trying not to think about the silver ring on your right hand. “Thanks, Jeno, I’m excited to start.”

“I’ll give you the rundown of everyone at the firm, come here,” he scooted his chair over to make room for you to roll yours up to his desk.

His fingers quickly flitted across his keyboard and mouse to pull up the firm website. Hovering over the tab labeled ‘Our Attorneys,’ you saw a list of names drop down. He clicked on the first one, Kim Chaeyoung. It pulled up a profile, the picture showing a very determined older woman, her arms crossed over her chest as she very resolutely stared down the camera.

“This is Kim Chaeyoung, the ‘Kim’ in Kim & Moon. She’s the most senior attorney at the firm, and mostly does corporate compliance and medical malpractice law. She just stepped down from being managing partner at the end of last year.”

He clicked the next name on the list, Moon Taeil. This time a man was on your screen, a bit older than you, but not by too much. No more than ten or fifteen years for sure, quite young to be a managing partner at such a large firm. His gaze wasn’t quite as intense as Kim Chaeyoung’s, but it held an intelligence and wisdom clearly beyond his years.

“Mrs. Kim stepped down to let this man, Moon Taeil, take over as managing partner. Something about wanting younger blood in charge but…” Jeno looked around the pod before he dropped his voice to a whisper so soft you had to lean in to hear him, “The rumor is that Mrs. Kim is going to announce her retirement at the holiday party at the end of this year.”

“And what sort of law does Mr. Moon do?” You questioned.

“Mostly insurance litigation. He tends to get the nastier incidents though: shootings, stabbings, fires, the odd dog bite.”

You then went through the senior partners before getting to the first of the junior partners on the list.

“And here is Jo Haseul, your attorney. She’s the most senior of the junior partners, and rumors also say that she’s going to be made a senior partner by the end of this year.”

“You love your office gossip, don’t you?”

You studied the woman on screen. She was younger than you had expected, a fierceness in her eyes that both intimidated you and inspired you to follow her wherever she led.

“This isn’t even the juicy stuff, wait until you hear about the affair Mr. Noh supposedly had with his assistant in the 80s,” Jeno scoffed, then turned his attention back to the woman on screen. “Anyway, Ms. Haseul is Mrs. Kim’s protégé. She mostly does general corporate matters, medical malpractice, and the occasional pro bono representation for women in need. Restraining orders, child custody, divorce, whatever comes in the door. If you really want to get to know her, ask about those cases.”

“She sounds incredible.”

“I told you you’d be perfect for each other.” Your friend then pulled up the next junior partner, “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s Mrs. Kim’s son but you’d never be able to tell by how they act around each other. All business. I think he doesn’t want people to assume he only got his position because of his mother, but nobody who has actually spoken to Mrs. Kim would ever think she’d do something like that. She’s got some serious integrity.”

Jeno was about to move on to the next attorney profile, a ‘Qian Kun,’ when you heard a ringing from behind you.

“Oh, that’s you, Y/N!”

You quickly wheeled yourself back over to your desk, picking up your desk phone after the third ring, “Y/L/N Y/N speaking.”

“Ms. Y/L/N,” a woman’s voice was on the other end, and when you glanced at the caller ID, you saw ‘Jo Haseul’ across the screen. “This is Jo Haseul. Please come to my office now.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m down the hall. Ask another assistant if you need help finding it.”

“Will do, thank you.”

She hung up, and you rushed to stand up. Grabbing one of the pens you saw earlier, you frantically scanned for a notepad to write with, but there wasn’t one on hand at your desk. You whipped around to face your friend, “Jeno, do you have a notepad I can use? Ms. Haseul wants to see me.”

“Here,” he handed you a notepad slightly bigger than your hand, spiral-bound at the top.

“Thank you!”

“The attorney offices are down that hall,” he pointed. “And Ms. Haseul’s will be on your left.”

“Got it, thanks!” You hurried in the direction he gestured.

Thankfully, everyone’s names were engraved on metal nameplates on the doors, making it easy to know when you had stopped in front of your attorney’s. Rapping your knuckles against the wood, you waited for a response.

“Come in.”

You entered already bowing, “Y/L/N Y/N, ma’am. It’s an honor to be here and I am very grateful for the opportunity to work with you.”

Jo Haseul appraised you for a moment from where she was sat behind her desk. She then nodded, “It’s nice to meet you. Now please sit, Y/L/N.”

“Yes ma’am,” you quickly sat in the armchair she had gestured to.

After brief introductions, Ms. Haseul gave you the rundown of the kinds of cases she tended to deal with—which generally lined up with what Jeno had told you earlier, her management style, workflow, and an overview of the duties you’ll be expected to fulfill as her paralegal. At the end of it, you left with pages of notes, a stack of papers in your arms, and your first tasks to do for her.

Stopping at your desk, you didn’t even sit as you organized the papers into three stacks: to correct, to file, and to copy. You picked up the last stack of things that Ms. Haseul wanted copies of, then turned to your friend, “Hey, Jeno, where’s the copier?”

The assistant sat at the desk beside yours was the one who spoke up in response, his headphones set aside now, “Oh, I’m going there right now, I’ll show you!”

“Thanks, Yangyang,” Jeno said, then nodded for you to go along with the other man.

Yangyang grabbed his own paper before leading the way out from the desks. He took off in the opposite direction from the offices down a different hallway, “It’s down this hall, first door on the right.” He then opened said door to reveal a room with four large copy machines in it.

“I’m Liu Yangyang, by the way,” your coworker introduced himself, stopping in front of one machine. “I’m Qian Kun and Dong Sicheng’s legal assistant. They’re Ms. Haseul’s associate attorneys that work under her so you and I will overlap quite a bit. Sicheng usually handles corporate matters with Ms. Haseul while Kun does the med mal portion.”

“I’m Y/L/N Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Yangyang.”

“You too, Y/N. And I’m sure you’ll meet my attorneys at some point today. I apologize in advance, and yes, they are always like that. Kun’s a workaholic who would be here until two in the morning if somebody didn’t send him home, and Sicheng… you are allowed to say no to him, and I encourage it, actually. Booksmart but doesn’t quite get social cues. I’ve seen him accidentally sweet talk his way into having an assistant pick up his dry cleaning before.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yeah, I had to intervene to ensure feminism wasn’t set back fifty years,” Yangyang scoffed.

“Women everywhere commend you for your service to the cause, Yangyang,” you nodded solemnly, to which your coworker snickered.

“The dude’s wicked smart but dumber than a box of rocks. Associates, you know?” He shook his head then returned to instructing you about the machine.

After Yangyang had shown you how to use the multipurpose machine—scanning and uploading, printing, copying, faxing—he took the copies that he had made and left you there. Nobody was at the other copiers, making you the only one in the room. You took a deep breath to compose yourself after having so much information thrown at you from all sides. Right now, at this moment, all you needed to do was make a copy.

Putting the first document in where Yangyang had shown you, you’d just started tapping the touchscreen through to the copying option when a dark figure appeared at the edge of your vision. Your head snapped up to look at the man leaning against the wall beside the copy machine you were at.

You hadn’t seen Jaemin since the night you’d made your deal. You’d spent the entire next night anxiously waiting for him to appear, but he never did, and you eventually gave up and fell asleep. He didn’t come any night after that, and you kind of thought he might’ve forgotten about you, or maybe didn’t really want you to hold up your end of the deal. Realized that he could find better company than you.

But here he was, in your workplace, smirk on his face and delight in his tone, “Surprise! I came to visit you on your first day of work. I’m so proud!”

First rolling your eyes at the sarcasm in his words and the fake tear he wiped away, you then fervently glanced towards the door to the copy room, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m checking on my investment,” he answered coolly.

“What, me? You can check on me at my home tonight, not at my job on my first day of work! Somebody could walk in, how would I explain you?”

“Nobody’s coming.”

“The deal was that I would give you my nights. Sun’s still up.”

“Yes, you’re doing just fine,” he nodded as he adjusted his black tie, seeming satisfied with his ‘check in.’ “I’ll see you tonight, Y/N.”

And he was gone in the blink of an eye.

You immediately flopped down onto your couch when you got home that night. That was the most work you’d done in a while; you were tired both physically and mentally. But it was a good sort of tired. You finally had a job.

“Hi, honey, how was work?”

You shot up at the voice, knowing exactly who it was. Jaemin was poised in your armchair, half a smirk already on his lips. He was in all-black again, though a slightly different suit from last time, his slacks and suit jacket had thin dark grey pinstripes, over a black silk dress shirt with the top three buttons open.

“Oh, uh, it was good,” you said.

Silence fell over you two, and you started fidgeting uncomfortably as it dragged on. Finally, you said, “So... what do you want to do?”

“Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“I feel like you already know the answer to that, but no. I just got home.”

“Let’s get dinner then. Where would you like to go?”

“Uhm...” you wracked your brain for some places nearby. “There’s a ramen place down the street. Let me change out of my work clothes first, hold on.”

Re-emerging from your bedroom in more casual clothes, you saw that Jaemin had moved from his spot on your armchair and was instead standing, gazing out the window. And again, for a brief moment, you could’ve sworn he looked... lonely.

“I’m ready,” you announced yourself. It felt wrong to keep looking at him like that.

Jaemin turned around, focusing a dazzling smile on you, “Lead the way, Y/N.”

The place you were thinking of really was just a couple blocks down the street. Mumbling a thanks to Jaemin as he held the door open for you, you were immediately met with a packed restaurant. It was seat-yourself, and you managed to spot a small table for two in the very back corner, right beside the entrance to the kitchen. Guiding Jaemin over to it, you felt your face turn warm as he pulled your chair out for you.

The menu was a singular piece of laminated paper taped to the tabletop, and your eyes skimmed it. You ordered the same thing every time at this point, but it was something to look at other than the god in front of you. Speaking of, he was a god. Did he even need to eat?

“Jaemin.” You said his name as you looked up from the menu.

His eyes flicked up from where they’d also been reading the options, “Hm?”

“Do you even eat, like, normal food?”

“I can if I want to, I just don’t need it to survive like you do.”

“Oh, I see. And do you... like it?”

“Quite.”

It was then that a familiar waiter came up to your table, “Hi, Y/N! It’s been a while. Almost didn’t recognize you at a table instead of the bar.”

Typically, you would come by yourself and sit at the bartop to eat alone alongside all the other solo patrons. You rolled your eyes at the slight jab, “Thank you, Chenle, I feel so welcome.”

“Aw, you know you’re one of my favorite regulars,” the young man snickered.

“Yeah, whatever. Sorry I haven’t been by lately, I didn’t exactly have the funds to eat out.”

“That’s okay. But you’re back, does that mean that you found a job?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Congrats!” He then focused his attention on the man across from you, “Hi, I’m Zhong Chenle.”

You moved to introduce the two before Jaemin could open his mouth, afraid of what he would’ve said. “Chenle, this is Jaemin, a... friend of mine. Jaemin, this is Chenle, he’s a server here.”

“And I’ll be serving you two tonight. So, what can I get you?”

After taking your orders, Chenle took off to put them in. You shifted in your seat awkwardly. What were you and Jaemin even supposed to talk about?

“You usually sit at the bar?” Jaemin questioned.

“I’m not an alcoholic, despite how Chenle made it sound,” you scoffed. “I usually come by myself, and the bar is the quickest place to get your food and get out. And that way I don’t take up any tables that groups can use.”

“I feel honored that you brought me here, then.”

You searched his face for any hint that he was teasing you, but all you found was sincere curiosity. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you changed the topic, “So why did you show up tonight? You didn’t come all last week.”

“Well, I had to hold up my end of the deal first.”

“Right, that... makes sense.” Realizing that you hadn’t even thanked him for whatever he’d done for you, you added, “Thank you, Jaemin. For you know, the job.”

“You’re welcome.”

Chenle returned then with a small bottle of soju for each of you, informing you that your food would be ready soon.

“So is it everything you’d dreamed of? Working at Kim & Moon?” Jaemin asked before lifting his bottle to his lips.

“Today was only my first day but... yes. I’ve already learned a lot, was listened to when I spoke, and the partner I work for seems like an incredible woman so far. It’s wonderful.”

“I hope it stays that wonderful for you, Y/N. I’d like to see your eyes light up like this often.”

Looking down at the green bottle in front of you, you twisted your ring around your finger nervously. You didn’t know what to say back, your heart fluttering around in your chest. Jaemin was charming, too charming for your own good, and you sort of felt like you really shouldn’t have expected any less from a god.

“Are you curious?”

You snapped your head up to look at your companion, not even attempting to hide your confusion at his words, “About what?”

“What I did, to get you the job.”

“I mean, I am. I assume you had something to do with Yejin winning the lottery? You’re the god of everything below the Earth, including precious gems, gold, silver. The god of riches, wealth. In the modern day that would translate to how we view wealth and riches now, since I’m not really out here buying my groceries with rubies and gold coins. Right?”

Jaemin’s obsidian eyes practically glittered as he listened to you speak, his lips curling up at one corner before he took another swig of his soju. When you were finished, he set the bottle back onto the table to answer your question, “Hit the nail on the head.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad you did that instead of killing her or something horrible.”

His head jerked back as he looked at you with bewilderment, “Now why would I do that? I’m the god of the dead, not death. If you wanted her dead you’re talking to the wrong deity.”

“I don’t want her dead, that’s my point. That’s what Jeno was joking about on the phone before you showed up; I didn’t want you to get any ideas.”

“I don’t really find it fun to just push people into traffic.”

“So you were listening to—” You cut yourself off as you saw Chenle approaching with your food. Not a conversation to be having in front of your normal human waiter.

After he had left your table again, you returned to what you were saying before, “So you were listening to our conversation.”

“Can’t help myself, I’m nosy when it comes to the humans who summon me,” Jaemin admitted.

“So what does Hades do for fun then?” You asked lightheartedly, slurping at some of your broth.

“While I don’t necessarily enjoy pushing people into traffic, I do find it much more fun to let a human become suddenly awash with money and watch what happens when they eventually lose it all. See what they spend it on, who they spend it on. Themselves mostly, sometimes others, trying to get people to be their friends or lovers simply because of what they’ll buy them. I’ll watch them do what humans do best, use and abuse the gifts that were given to them. And then once they’ve been sucked dry both in their finances and their souls, find out how they try to move on.”

“Is that what you’re doing with me?” You set your spoon down, voice wavering. “Watching and waiting for me to end up like that?”

Jaemin took a pause, shifting forward in his seat before responding, “One of my favorite things about humans is how resilient you are. Always trying to bounce back. It’s fascinating to find out your breaking point, when you have no more bounce left.”

An absolutely devilish smile played across his features as he seemed to take delight in the notion. He didn’t exactly answer your question, but the lack thereof felt like enough.

“Why?”

“Because it’s different for every person, and always further than I think it’ll be. Even after so long, knowing that humans can still surprise me, it’s refreshing. Makes me think that…”

You blinked at him, waiting for him to finish. He was definitely well aware that he had your rapt attention, basking in the drama he had created by pausing. His eyes settled on you firmly, holding eye contact as something softer entered them.

“Maybe you’ll surprise me, too.”

Jaemin came back to your apartment with you after you’d decided you were full. You hadn’t had much of an appetite after that harrowing conversation over dinner, and he’d left you with a lot of thinking to do. It wasn’t every day that you heard a god’s perspective on human lives—on toying with human lives, watching for their eventual breakdown in the aftermath of the ‘gifts’ he gave them. If that’s what it did to them all, it seemed much more like a curse to you.

And you were of course thinking about whether it would happen to you too. You hadn’t wished for riches or wealth directly, definitely not so much that it would have the same effect on your life as winning the lottery. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t worried. And the idea of Jaemin watching you every step of the way, waiting to see when you’d slip up, when you’d meet your breaking point, made you shiver instinctually.

“Are you cold?” Jaemin’s question broke the silence that had been hovering over you two since you started the walk from the restaurant back to your apartment.

“Oh, no, I—”

But he had already shrugged his suit jacket off and laid it over your shoulders. There was no residual body heat in it, but it did help block out some of the breeze blowing past you. You hadn’t noticed the temperature at all, too wrapped up in your own thoughts.

“Thanks,” you muttered, wrapping the jacket tighter around your shoulders. It smelled faintly of spiced citrus.

“No worries.”

Back in your apartment, you wanted nothing more than to lay in bed staring up at your ceiling as you gave yourself over fully to the existential crisis you were descending into. But you still had a god to entertain.

A glance at the change in time on your stovetop clock let you know that you were only a couple hours into your commitment. You hoped he didn’t expect you to stay up all night with him. Leaving Jaemin in your living room once again, you changed into pajamas in your bedroom. If he was going to be with you every night from here on out, you were at least going to be comfy for some of it.

Jaemin was back in the armchair he had appeared in at the beginning of the night, one knee crossed over the other and a book in hand. You paused behind him on your way back into the living room to peer over his shoulder, trying to read the title at the top of the page he was on.

“The Turn of the Screw?” You questioned, walking around him to plop down onto your couch.

“I found it on your shelf,” he gestured to the built-in shelves in the walls around the recess that held your TV. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Knock yourself out, I haven’t touched it since I had to read it for a ghost literature class like… four years ago.”

“Ghost literature class?” Jaemin lowered the book to rest on his leg while he regarded you with an eyebrow raised. “Did you go to school in the Underworld or something?”

“It was actually called like ‘Ghost Stories and Haunted Fiction of the 19th Century’ or something. The students just called it ghost lit. We read all these spooky stories, including The Turn of the Screw,” you explained, then looked around your living room. “I have a few more of them around here somewhere. Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein— I can’t remember the full reading list, but they’re scattered around.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He raised the book back up to continue reading intently.

Since he seemed occupied for the moment, you pulled out your phone to distract yourself.

A couple hours later and you let out your first yawn of the night. You’d thought that Jaemin was so enraptured by the book that he wasn’t paying any attention to you. The chuckle he gave from across the room proved you wrong, however. There was definitely nothing funny in that story. You threw him a scowl, but he neither looked up from the book nor said anything.

Shifting in your spot to get comfy again, you returned to the article that you’d been reading on your phone and your guest was quiet once again. Another yawn split your mouth, and the words on your screen swam in your vision as your eyes teared up.

“Tired, Y/N?” Jaemin’s eyes still hadn’t left the book as he continued, “You should go to sleep, early day at work tomorrow, right?”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I thought I’d finish this book, if that’s alright with you. I’ve got about… thirty, forty pages left.”

“Oh, uh, sure,” you were surprised both that he was encouraging you to go to sleep during the time you’d agreed to forfeit to him, and that he wanted to finish the book.

Standing up from the couch, you shuffled into your kitchen to fill up a glass of water. After knocking back your nightly medication, you placed the water on your nightstand and went into your bathroom to do your nighttime routine. You found yourself hovering at the threshold between the hallway that contained your bedroom and bathroom, and the living room. It felt weird to just go to bed with someone else in your home, at least not without saying goodnight to them.

“Uhm,” you cleared your throat.

Jaemin turned to look at you from over the back of the armchair, “Yes, Y/N?”

“I just wanted to…” you felt the words catch in your throat. Pushing through your awkwardness, you twisted the ring around your finger as you forced the words out, “Goodnight, Jaemin.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled at you before turning back around to face his book, “See you tomorrow.”

And with that, you retreated into your bedroom for the night, falling asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The man of shadows was in your dreams again that night, drawing you to the tree with the golden fruit. His voice once more invited you to partake in picking the fruit, and your hand inched up, up, up, towards one. Your fingers had just wrapped around the fruit, ready to pluck it off the branch, when you woke up.

When you awoke the next morning, you went through the motions of your morning routine, strolling from your bathroom out to your kitchen, toothbrush sticking out of your mouth. You continued brushing your teeth with one hand as you grabbed the freshly popped toast from the toaster to put on a plate. As you went to lean over the kitchen sink to spit the toothpaste foam out of your mouth, your eyes got caught on something in the living room, which the sink overlooked. There was a small black pouch sitting on the coffee table, on the corner closest to the armchair.

After wiping your mouth off, you walked over to your coffee table, intrigue building as you picked up the velvet drawstring pouch. Looking around, you were only greeted by your empty apartment. This wasn’t here last night. Or at least, not before you went to sleep.

Pulling it open, you gently shook the contents out onto your palm. It was a silver bracelet, intricate filigree running along the band that was inlaid with gorgeous green and blue gems.

Jaemin’s words from dinner last night echoed in your head.

‘I do find it much more fun to let a human become suddenly awash with money and watch what happens when they eventually lose it all… It’s fascinating to find out your breaking point…’

A foreboding feeling colored your vision, and you rushed to tuck the bracelet back into the bag and throw it onto the table.

When Jaemin came that night, you were cooking dinner in your kitchen. He appeared there with you, leaning against the counter next to your sink as you were standing over the stovetop.

“Good evening, Y/N,” he greeted you.

“Hello, Jaemin.” You steeled your nerves, giving as nonchalant of a nod as you could towards the living room, “You left something here last night. It’s on the coffee table.”

The god regarded you with a tilted head, and you felt his eyes on your empty wrists, “That was for you.”

“I didn’t ask you for anything like that.”

“I know. It was a gift.”

“The job was plenty, Jaemin.”

He was silent as he continued to watch you cook. After a grueling couple of minutes of absolute silence, his eyes burning into you the whole time, you finally turned to properly look him in the face. Throwing on a smile, you informed him, “Dinner’s ready. Ravioli, would you like some?”

“Yes, please.”

You set two places at your dinner table before plating two portions of the pasta. Jaemin was still in his place next to the sink, observing your movements.

“Go ahead and sit, I’m just going to grab a couple glasses,” you gestured towards the kitchen table.

Without even waiting to see if he’d obey, you bustled over to a cabinet and took out two wine glasses, then grabbed a bottle of white wine you’d been meaning to finish off. When you turned back to the kitchen table, you were pleasantly surprised to see Jaemin waiting there patiently, fidgeting with his silverware. Setting the two glasses down, you noticed that Jaemin’s silverware was in different places than you had put them in when you hastily set the table. The fork was on the left of the plate, the knife and spoon on the right with the knife directly beside the plate and the spoon on the other side of the knife. Yours on the other hand were in the haphazard places atop the napkin that you had put them earlier.

“Apologies for the subpar fork placement,” you said, uncorking the wine to begin pouring it out first for Jaemin.

“Oh, it’s just a habit,” he explained. His tone then turned as teasing as yours had been, “My apologies for making you think your fork placement was anything other than above par.”

You then poured for yourself as you continued the banter, “Yeah, you know, I really pride myself on my utensil arranging skills. My feelings have been gravely wounded. I’ll never recover from this.”

“Then would you consider taking this,” he procured a small black pouch from his pocket, and you had a suspicion as to exactly what was in it, “as repentance, with my sincerest apologies?”

A bitter sigh came out of your mouth at him ruining the perfectly normal moment you were enjoying, “Jaemin, I told you I don’t want any more gifts from you.”

The way you spat out the word ‘gifts’ was apparently a lightbulb moment for him as he set the pouch down on the table and all playfulness dropped from his face. Disinterested in whatever he was going to say to try to convince you to take it, you picked up your fork, using the side of the tongs to cut one of your raviolis in half.

“Y/N…” he said your name almost wistfully, leaning forward towards you earnestly. “I really do just want you to have it. It’s not a test or a ruse, just… a token.”

“A token of what?” You snorted, spearing half of the ravioli that you’d just cut and bringing it up to your mouth.

“My affection?”

You choked momentarily on the pasta in your mouth, chewing and swallowing it as quickly as possible and taking a sip of your wine to wash it down. Jaemin still hadn’t touched his food, utensils undisturbed as he waited for you to collect yourself. When you searched his face for a smirk, a mischievous glint in his eyes, anything to indicate that he was being less than truthful, you found none. You were just met with deep open pools of black in his eyes, his mouth set in seriousness, and his hand once again holding the pouch back out to you.

“Your what?”

“I know you heard me.”

“Yes, and now I’m asking for clarification.”

“I find you fascinating, and not in the morbid kind of way like I described to you last night. I’ve found myself starting to become fond of you, and I wanted to show that to you with a… present.”

“What, like getting your puppy a new chew toy because they’re so darn cute?”

Jaemin chuckled, “Not quite. But still, will you please accept it, Y/N?”

You thought it over for another moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek. He was being sincere, you were sure of it. You’d caught brief glimpses of the kinder side to Jaemin just in the few times you’d met him: when he’d leant you his suit jacket walking home last night, telling you he was hoping you’d continue being in love with your job, the gentlemanly peck he’d left on your fingers the night you’d made your deal. And now, as he patiently awaited your answer.

“Alright,” you agreed, taking the small bag from him. “Thank you, Jaemin.”

“Thank you for letting me give it to you.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Pulling the bracelet back out of the pouch, you saw that it had a hinge mechanism on it that you couldn’t manage one-handed, and held it out to the god sitting in front of you, “Will you help me put it on?”

“Of course,” he took it, opening the band up with ease.

You held your right hand out towards him, and he brought the open bracelet up around your wrist. But you weren’t watching the way his deft fingers put it on around your wrist, the tips of them brushing over the sensitive skin at your pulse point, leaving coolness behind. You were watching his face as he focused on the task intently, his brows furrowing in concentration then relaxing after the bracelet had clicked shut. A small but tender smile took over his face, his eyes softening as he turned your hand over palm down, thumb running up your ring finger until it reached the silver band that resided there.

Your skin buzzed in the wake of his touch, an electric cold. You could hear your heart thudding in your ears and hoped that he didn’t have supernatural god hearing or something and could hear it too. If he did, he gave no indication of such. He withdrew his hands, leaving you more dazed than you should’ve been at the minimal contact you had. Jerking your hand back to your side of the table, you turned your gaze down at your food, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks were.

A light laugh came from Jaemin, but you couldn’t force your eyes back up to him, knowing that his were already on you.

That night you dreamt once more of the man cast in darkness, leading you to the tree of golden fruit. This time when he encouraged you to pick one, you grasped at the fruit with two hands, pulling it right off the branch with a firm tug.

Just about one month into your… arrangement with Jaemin, you were rooting through your fridge for something to make for dinner when there was suddenly a cool breeze on the back of your neck. Except you were indoors.

Spinning around, you were immediately met with the god extremely close to you, and let out an exasperated sigh, “God damn, Jaemin, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“I can’t help it if I make your heart race,” he grinned, the mischievous glint in his eye making your heart pound in a different way that it had been.

“Yeah, because you jumpscared me,” you rolled your eyes, shutting the fridge doors to then lean back against the appliance. “Anyway, it’s not looking like I have anything to make for dinner. You okay with eating out tonight?”

“More than, I was actually hoping you’d let me take you somewhere tonight.”

“Where?”

“My place. You’ve been such a gracious host this whole time, it’s time I repay the favor.”

“Your place, as in... the Underworld?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugged nonchalantly, an enticing grin on his features. A grin that invited you to follow its owner to places you’d never been before. “I promise you’ll come back.”

“In one piece?”

“Of course.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intrigued, that you hadn’t tried to picture what the Underworld looked like. All you could come up with was the standard image of hell: flames, pitchforks, eternal torture. But now you were getting an invitation to go there with Hades and come back alive.

“And I’ll be back in time to go to work in the morning?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

“Alright, sure,” you finally acquiesced. “I’d love to, thank you for inviting me.”

Jaemin offered his hand out to you then, and you placed your atop. He gave yours a light squeeze, “Just focus on me, Y/N. Just look in my eyes.”

“Okay?” You agreed despite your tone pitching it up into a question, unsure of why exactly he was asking you to do that.

Nevertheless, you settled your gaze on his eyes, even as he drew you in closer by the light grip on your hand. You gave him an awkward half-smile, unsure of what exactly to do as you just stared him directly in the eye. His dark eyes had a calming effect, however, as you felt your breathing even out and your heartbeat slow. This close to him, and being able to unabashedly look at him, you were entranced by the unearthly quality to his beauty. It should have been disquieting, this spectral vision in front of you, but you just found yourself drawn even closer in body and mind.

Then suddenly everything around you was darker, as if someone had dimmed your kitchen lights. The air was cooler too, and you had the suspicion that you were no longer in your kitchen. But you were still looking at Jaemin, just like you said you would.

He was looking right back at you, unflinchingly, and a fond smile crossed his lips before he announced quietly, “We’re here. You can look.”

And you finally tore your eyes from him to take in your new surroundings. It was dark, just like you’d noted before, as if it were nighttime. The room you were in had black floors, black walls, and at the very tippy top of the black vaulted ceiling, a black wrought iron chandelier with flames glowing... blue? But you couldn’t focus on the flickering up above you as Jaemin’s fingers entwined with yours and he gently tugged you towards the other side of the room.

“Come on, this way.”

It looked like you were maybe in an entrance hall of some sort. It was then that you spotted a large black throne adorned with silver detailing and embellishments at the front of the room. Jaemin kept walking right past it, though, down an adjoining hallway.

Your wide eyes that had been taking everything in turned downwards to your hand that was holding Jaemin’s. His skin was the usual coolness you had come to expect, and your fingertips brushed against the multitudes of rings on his fingers. Seeing the lone silver band on your hand, the one that he was holding, made your face hot for some reason.

You passed through another doorway into a dining room. It contained a large dining table crafted from dark walnut wood, the twelve high-back chairs around it made of the same. A deep red table runner went across the length of the tabletop, matching the upholstery of the chairs. A feast was already laid out, and place settings for two of the seats were prepared.

Jaemin let go of your hand to pull out a chair for you. You thanked him quietly as you sat down, eyes still scanning over the food options. He sat in the chair caddy-corner to yours, at the head of the table.

“Go ahead, Y/N,” Jaemin encouraged you as he reached forward to grab the bottle of wine that had been on the table as well.

“Everything looks... so good,” you said, not sure what to try first.

He uncorked the bottle, pouring the red wine into your glass first, then his. When he put the bottle down, you still hadn’t moved, too overwhelmed with all the delicious-looking choices.

“Do I need to make your plate for you?” He teased, already standing and grabbing your plate.

“This is good, you’ll probably like this one, oh you’re going to love this one, everyone likes that, mmm definitely not that,” he mumbled to himself as he loaded up your plate with food after food.

Your heart did flips as you looked up at him, the simple kindness of his actions making you feel warm despite the coolness of the Underworld.

Jaemin set your plate back down in front of you between your utensils, spoon on the far right, then the knife beside the plate, and the fork on the left. You waited for him to prepare his own plate of food, then finally be seated. When he’d finished scooting his chair up to table, he looked up from what he’d been doing, eyes catching yours, and a small, affectionate smile crossed his lips before he grabbed his wine glass. Then a wide, charismatic grin overtook his features as he held his glass out towards you, and you followed his lead, picking yours up to clink them together.

“To one month of… you and I. Thank you for agreeing to come here tonight, Y/N.”

‘You and I.’ His words both squeezed your chest and made it feel airy, like someone was inflating a balloon inside of it.

“Thank you for hosting tonight, Jaemin. And here’s to one month of…” you took a sharp inhale as you stumbled through your mind for any other word but couldn’t find one in that moment. “Us.”

You saw Jaemin’s pale lips softly, silently repeat the word before pulling into an alluring smirk.

And you each took a sip of the wine before digging into your food and kicking off the discussion. Over your month of dinners and nighttime socializing with Jaemin, you were used to your conversations meandering between the casual catching up of your workday to the serious contemplations of life and the universe. After all, if you were dining with a god, you were going to pick his brain for some philosophical inquiry. But on the days where some of the medical malpractice or domestic pro bono cases had hit you exceptionally hard and you wanted to leave well enough alone, Jaemin let you keep the topics light and surface level, keeping it at office gossip and the like.

Tonight though, with the special venue on your mind, you immediately delved into the existential, “So what are humans to you?”

“How do you mean?” Jaemin arched an eyebrow at your question.

“You’re a god. You’ve lived for thousands of years. You’ve seen millions of humans live and die. Surely, we all just kind of… blur together for you. Seem the same. Inconsequential.”

“No, not at all.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m here,” you teased before returning to your debate. “Most of us live and die without ever leaving a lasting impact on the world. Not that I think that’s necessary for having lived a meaningful or good life, I think that making even one person smile means that someone lived a good life. But in relation to you, a god, surely that makes us all indistinguishable from one another.”

“Is a play bad because it ends? Is a flower no longer beautiful because it will wilt? I think that humans and your lives are so intriguing because they’re finite.” He was as impassioned as ever when getting into your metaphysical dialogues— voice strong with resolve, leaning forward towards you earnestly, brow set just the slightest not with anger but determination, and hair falling into his onyx eyes that looked into yours without hesitation. “An incalculable but unquestionably limited amount of time, one chance, and each of you choose to live differently.”

“You still think that every human life is different from all the others?”

“Of course.” Apparently sensing that he hadn’t convinced you yet, Jaemin continued with an example, “Just look at you and your friend Jeno. Sure, the two of you converged pretty closely in college, but he made the choice to begin his career while you made the choice pursue higher education. Your two lives aren’t the same.”

“There’s also another major difference between the two of us.”

At the imploring tilt of his head, you deadpanned, “Only one of us made a deal with Hades for a third of our life.”

“An astute observation, Y/N,” Jaemin chuckled, relaxing back in his chair now that you’d changed up the tone of the conversation.

When both of your plates and glasses were empty, Jaemin took you by the hand once again to guide you from the dining room, as he apparently wanted to show you something. You emerged onto a patio of some sort, but that wasn’t what you were focused on. In front of you was a tree maybe ten or fifteen feet tall, an elegantly thin and sloping trunk, and along its many branches were round golden fruit the size of your palm. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that came from you as you took in the dazzling sight. Everything about the tree was normal from the texture of the brown bark to the dark green leaves, and even the dappling of the outer shell of the pomegranates that grew on it looked real, aside from the gilded color. It was magical, and you were happy just to know that something so beautiful existed.

“Thank you for showing me this, Jaemin,” you said, turning to look at the god who had stopped beside you.

You thought that he’d be looking at the scenery too, but his eyes were on you. He had a familiar look on his face, a small, tender smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, dark eyes holding a latent warmth like coals after a fire, and you felt tempted to get even closer to indulge in it.

But instead, you steeled your nerves to ask, “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

Your tone wasn’t as accusatory as your words were, it was a sincerely curious question.

“Like what?” Jaemin was quick to reply with a question of his own, keeping his attitude light but genuine.

“You keep smiling at me with this soft little smile.”

“I keep doing it? When was I doing it before?”

“When we first got here, when you sat down at dinner tonight, and just now, when you brought me out here.” It had made your heart go haywire every time you noticed it, so you were able to list the instances from tonight off the top of your head. But that wasn’t all, there was a reason why it was imprinted into the back of your eyelids like a burned-out LCD screen, “It’s like… like… you want to kiss me.”

“I do,” Jaemin declared, eyes never leaving yours, voice never wavering, so damn sure of himself. Even as you were here in front of him feeling like you were nearly ready to rip your hair out from just a few little smiles from him.

He was always like this. So charming, so smooth, playfully talking around your questions. Pulling you along with him, dancing with you through your conversation. You had to meet him head on, even if it felt like you were going crazy doing so. You did it during your dinners, you could do it now too.

“Is that why you’re smiling at me like that?”

“Do you want me to? Kiss you?” He took a step towards you. For a brief moment he was all you could see, all dark hair, dark eyes, and silver earrings.

“I want to know why you look at me like that.” You stepped back from him, wrapped in the heady smell of his cologne. Cinnamon, bergamot, an earthy scent too maybe? Your head was swimming with it, but you needed to focus on the conversation at hand.

“And I want to know if you want me to kiss you or not.” Another step, once again narrowing the distance between you.

“I asked first, Jaemin,” you poked your pointer finger against his chest as a warning. “An answer for an answer.”

He stayed put, seeming to be fighting a delighted smirk from his face as he looked between your face and the finger you held up defensively between the two of you. Jaemin’s features relaxed as he clasped his hands together behind his back, looking into your eyes earnestly, “All of those times that I’ve been looking at you tonight, I was thinking to myself, ‘It feels like she’s come home.’ You just looked like you belonged here, in my home, with me. It felt like I belonged with you. And that made me want to kiss you. That’s why.”

Of all the answers you had been expecting, that hadn’t quite been one of them. Grand declarations of love were a faraway possibility, sure, you’d seen movies before. That’s not what this was, though. This was both more and less. You hadn’t anticipated for Hades’ answer to be so simple yet all-soul-encompassing as the idea of coming home. While everything tonight had definitely been new and unfamiliar to you, you hadn’t been intimidated or uncomfortable in any way. With Jaemin at your side, you’d been able to take it all in with wonder and an open mind, knowing that you had him right there watching over you.

“I believe you owe me an answer now too, Y/N.” Jaemin’s voice was quiet, low, meant only for you. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

Your gaze fell to the finger you had to his chest, your right hand. It had lost all the force you started with, limp and simply resting against him. You could see the silver ring there, and lower on your arm was the bracelet he’d given you, both pieces of jewelry glinting in the hazy light afforded in the Underworld. You briefly wondered if they had come from here, from deep under the Earth; if they’d come home tonight, too. The god in front of you remained silent, waiting for your response. If there was one thing Jaemin was good at, it was waiting— after he’d given you his final push.

Then you finally looked back up at his face, into the sunken obsidian black that greeted you there. That ever-stubborn lock of raven hair was hanging between his brows, and you had a sudden and smitten urge to fix it. But you had something more important to do in that moment. After all, he’d given you his answer, now you owed him yours. And you’d made up your mind.

Your mouth had barely started forming around your answer before it was captured by Jaemin’s in a kiss that was equal parts tender and ravishing. It felt like he was trying to devour your ‘yes’ right off your tongue and keep it all to himself. Admittedly, your head had started nodding before your vocal cords could work.

If you thought you were swimming in spices and citrus before, you were drowning in them now. Cinnamon, oranges, and… cedar. Your hand that had previously been poking at his chest was now crumpling the collar of his dress shirt, the other hooking a finger in one of the belt loops at the front of his slacks to yank him closer. His own hands were doing their part, too. One cupped your cheek while the other held you by your waist. The sweetest nectar was being dripped into your veins, and you hungrily took more and more with each wanton kiss from Jaemin.

When his lips finally parted from yours, you couldn’t help but steal just one more kiss. He let out a breathy chuckle as he clasped a hand over the one you were grasping at his shirt with to gently pull it off, his thumb then rubbing slow circles into your palm. His hand that had been on your cheek dipped to gently grip your chin, and as he looked at you, you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“I’m home,” you promised.

The shadowy man was back in your dreams that night, and this time the golden fruit was already in your two hands. He was encouraging you to break it open, feed on its juicy flesh that he promises will taste so good.

You woke up before you could follow through on the decision you’d already made.

⤷ series masterlist ⤷ blog masterlist

#i: jaemin #jaemin #na jaemin #nct #nct dream #nct imagine #jaemin imagine #nct dream imagine #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #jaemin imagines #f: obsidian black #s: golden fruit #g: fluff #writing #text #mine #*100

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autumnshighlady · 1 year

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I’ve Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 10)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: the Winter Solstice is finally here, and it’s now or never.

warnings: the usual IC slander, Cassian slander, Nesta calls Cassian out, Rhys is an ass, slight nsfw implications

word count: 8k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU GUYS TO READ THIS YOU HAVE NO IDEA!!! It’s my biggest chapter yet and it’s only the start of a crazy journey. This fic is so special to me and I hope you enjoy x

feedback is appreciated, just no hate pls! these are just my opinions, i’m more curious to see how you all like the writing and characterization and storylines!

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7 // part 8 // part 9

read on ao3

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Weeks went by as the solstice preparations were in full swing. Nesta was constantly pulled aside for dress fittings and dancing practices, getting ready to, as Rhysand had apparently put it, seduce Eris Vanserra.

Training with Azriel was still part of your regular schedule, much to your dismay. Originally, you hadn’t minded the hours you spent with Azriel, working on everything from combat and stealth techniques to mind game exercises. But the news Eris had broken to you had ignited a feeling of dread that awoke every time you walked down the stairs to the training room.

Azriel was willing to step back and let Rhysand send you to the continent to die. It would take years for you to be even remotely ready for such a mission, and the spymaster knew it. Yet he did nothing to try and stop it as the High Lord signed your death sentence. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he wanted you dead – you illegally served as his spy in another court, a crime that could have easily resulted in an act of war. But if you died, then that problem went away for him. It was almost too perfect, you had realized. That way, he got exactly what he wanted: you out of the picture, and Nesta isolated from the influence of someone who could turn her against him.

Every day you tried to think of a way to get out of it, racking your brain for hours on all the possibilities. So far nothing had come from it aside from letting yourself go to the continent and hope that your magical bond with Nesta would extend over such a distance, enough to tell her where you were so Eris could come get you. Eventually. It wasn’t a good plan, too much could go wrong – the limits to how far apart you could be from Nesta and have the mind-speaking still work was unknown. You could be snatched up at any moment and persecuted for being fae. You could get lost, or captured by the enemy and killed. None of it boded well for you, and every night you had nightmares about the possibilities.

Eris had not been back to the Night Court either. Perhaps he had decided that Nesta was enough, and he could leave you to die in the human lands to eliminate the threat of you exposing his plans to kill his father.

You’re double crossing the Night Court for revenge, and trusting you’ll be able to get Eris Vanserra of all people to help you out? What makes you think he won’t just sell you back to them? He’s a cruel, sadistic bastard who shouldn’t be trusted. Tamlin’s words from weeks ago rang in your head. Realistically, he had a point, but part of you knew that you could trust Eris, not that you had another choice.

You missed the Spring Court, heart aching as you thought of those brief few weeks where you were blissfully able to return home. Frequently you wondered how the progress on the sanctuaries was going, if more and more citizens continued to arrive at them. You had not heard anything good or bad from the Spring Court, only Azriel’s occasional comment about Tamlin seemingly minding his own business for now.

In the days before the Solstice, you couldn’t help but feel uneasy. You were in your own head constantly, unable to escape the fear of what would happen. Emerie had knocked you down three times during training way easier than she should have been able to, to the point where Gwyn had asked if you’d hit your head and needed to see a healer. Azriel had glanced at your fumbles throughout the session, but not once brought it up.

Maybe this is good, You had thought to yourself as Gwyn knocked your wooden sword out of your hands. Maybe he’ll see I’m really not ready for this mission and finally convince Rhys to send someone else.

But the spymaster gave no indication of even having had a conversation with Rhys, let alone coming to a conclusion. The uneasiness killed you, gnawing away at you from the inside in a chasm of dread and anxiety.

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

You leaned against the edge of the table, rifling through the pages of an old, dusty book Gwyn had handed you. The priestess had invited you and Emerie to the library, wanting to catch Nesta after her dancing lesson with Mor. Both of you had eagerly obliged, and linked arms as you strode into the library. Admittedly, you were hoping to snag a book about the Valkyries, even though Gwyn had explained them to you. Even though you were only doing this training for the sake of getting out of here, the part of you that had bonded with Nesta’s two friends wanted to be a part of the Valkyrie training – to be part of a group of females that fought together against all odds.

“What are you doing here?” Came Nesta’s voice as she came down the stairs to the level where you, Gwyn, and Emerie were.

“I wanted to see where you two work,” Emerie said, tossing the book in her hand with a thump that made the priestess grimace.

“I was showing Emerie and (Y/N) the wonders of Merrill’s office while she’s off at a meeting,” Gwyn said. “I’ve got to go work, but I thought you could bring her around while you shelve.” Gwyn threw her a wry glance. “And dance.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. A few days ago, she had told you that she might have been caught practising her waltzes in the stacks once or twice. Or ten times.

Nesta nodded to Emerie. “Come on.”

But Gwyn said, “Actually, before you two go, I wanted to give you something. Since it’s probably the last time we’ll see each other until Winter Solstice is over.”

You and Nesta and Emerie all swapped confused looks. You asked, “You got us presents?”

Gwyn only said, “I’ll meet you down at your cart.” With that, she dashed into the gloom.

The remaining three of you aimed for Level Five, where Nesta had apparently left her cart. It had been replenished with books needing to be shelved. She explained what she did, but you were only half-listening.

“What?” Nesta asked, voice laced with concern as she noticed the colour leave your cheeks.

Your brows bunched, body shivering with an eerie chill. “I ... I must not have drunk enough water during training.” Everyone had tried out two new Valkyrie techniques that Gwyn had found the night before, and both had been particularly brutal, ordering them to use shields as springboards for launching a fellow Valkyrie into the skies, and to do their abdominal curls bearing the weights of those shields.

No one had managed to cut the ribbon, though Emerie had nicked an edge two days ago.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta pressed.

You felt your eyes glaze over as the memories you tried so hard to push away were screaming in your head. “It’s ... I swear, I can hear my mother screaming down here.” Your hands trembled as she lifted one to brush a strand of hair behind an ear. “I can hear the laughs of the Hybern soldiers as her blood splattered all over them, can hear Sapphyra’s head being ripped from her shoulders…”

Nesta whipped her head to the downward slope to their right. No darkness lurked there, but they were low enough ... “This place is ancient and strange,” she said, even as she processed what you had admitted.

“Let’s go up a level, where the darkness doesn’t whisper so loudly. I’m sure Gwyn will find us easily enough.” She linked her arm with yours, pressing her body close, letting some of her warmth leak into you. Emerie linked her arm into your free one, broken wing gently grazing your back as your friends lead you away from the creeping darkness.

Gwyn did find you, the priestess panting and flushed as she handed out three rectangular parcels, each roughly the size of a large, thin book. “One for each of you.”

Nesta opened the brown paper and beheld a stack of pages filled with writing. You tore into your own as well, letting the packaging fall to the floor as you opened the pages. At the top of the first page, it merely said, Chapter Twenty-One. You read the first few lines beneath it, then nearly dropped the pages.

“This —this is about us.” Nesta said, echoing your thoughts.

Gwyn beamed. “I convinced Merrill to add us into the penultimate chapter. She even let me write it—with her own annotations, of course. But it’s about the rebirth of the Valkyries. About what we’re doing.”

You had no words. Emerie’s hands were once more shaking as she leafed through the pages. “You had this much to say about us?” Emerie said, choking on a laugh.

Gwyn rubbed her hands together. “With more to come.”

You read a line at random on the fifth page. Whether the sun beat hot on their brows or freezing rain turned their bones to ice, Nesta, (Y/N), Emerie, and Gwyneth arrived at practice each morning, ready to …

The back of your throat ached; your eyes stung. “We’re in a book.”

Gwyn’s fingers slid into yours, squeezing tight. Nesta looked up as Emerie’s hand grabbed her own, and then yours. Gwyn smiled again as Nesta clasped onto Gwyn’s free hand, her eyes bright. “Our stories are worth telling.”

“Yes,” You said quietly. “Yes they are.”

Pride filled your chest at the pages written before you – even though you had not known Gwyn and Emerie as long as Nesta, they embraced you with open arms and included you in their training, activities, everything. For the first time since Hybern, you felt surrounded by a group of people who loved you truly.

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

You were eating your lunch in the kitchen, picking away at the remaining scraps of chicken sandwich on your plate. Nesta had gone to another dancing lesson, and Emerie was back at her shop while Gwyn worked. So you were left alone with your thoughts in the main level of the House of Wind, trying every mind stilling technique you could think of as anxiety made your stomach churn at the idea of tonight’s ball.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the hallway from someone who knew how to be quiet.

“Azriel,” You mumbled without even turning around. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The shadowsinger stepped into your field of view, enormous wings blocking the sunlight that came through the large windows. He had bags under his eyes, as if he had not slept in days. But it was the only tell that something was off, for he remained as stoic as ever.

“You’re invited to the Solstice ball tonight at the Hewn City.” He said, pouring coffee into the mug in his hand.

You raised your eyebrows. “I am?”

Azriel turned to face you. “Yes.”

“What if I don’t want to go?” You did, but that's besides the point. It was funny to annoy the spymaster.

As predicted, he rolled those eyes before taking a sip of the steaming hot coffee. “Well I am not going to drag you down there kicking and screaming. But it would be polite to accept the invitation, as it is from the High Lady.”

Now that was a surprise. “It was?”

“Yes. Nesta is going as well, and she figured it would be easier on Nesta if she had a friend there with her.”

You snorted. “You mean Nesta will behave better if I’m there?”

Those hazel eyes met yours, unflinching. “Yes.”

Sighing, you pushed your plate away, deciding that if you ate another bite of food you’d throw up from nervousness. “You know, if you talk about and treat Nesta like a feral animal, she’s going to bite like one.”

Azriel said nothing, huffing as he downed the rest of the caffeine. The rays of sun glowed around his tall frame, illuminating his high cheekbones. After a moment, he changed the subject. “A dress has been sent to your room for you to wear. Be ready on the balcony by 6.”

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

For about an hour, you had sat on your bed staring at the dress, wondering if you should do this. After a lot of back and forth, you swept some black liner across your eyes and braided half of your hair up before slipping into the dress. It was dark blue, the same colour as Azriel’s siphons, and covered in sparkles. The slightly darker skirt was loose, a V-shaped cluster of stars pulling it around your waist. Sparkles plunged down your navel, revealing at least a third of your breasts and sternum. You had uttered the words to vanish the tattoo, praying nothing weird would happen that would cause it to show up, for the plunging neckline revealed the skin where the very mark stood. Two crescent moons faced away from each other right in the centre above your sternum, brighter than the other jewels.

Silver stars and jewels continued along the off the shoulder neckline and the strap just above it that went across your collarones. Attached to where the sleeves would normally be was a long, mesh veil-like piece of stars and glitter that went along the floor and trailed behind you as you walked. While uncomfortable, you couldn’t deny it was beautiful.

You stood beside Azriel one one side of the foot of the black dias, trying not to shake as you stared at the crowd in front of you. Cassian took up the other side, a lethal glare across his features similar to Azriel’s. Morrigan was above you by the throne, representing Feyre and Rhysand until they arrived.

The entire throne room was bedecked in black candles, evergreen wreaths and garlands, and holly berries. The twin banquet tables flanking either side of the massive space overflowed with food, but it was forbidden to all until Feyre and Rhys allowed it. The towering doors to the throne room at last yawned open.

Dark power rumbled through the mountain, warning of their approach. The mountain sang with it. Everyone turned as the High Lord and High Lady appeared, crowned and garbed in black.

Rhys looked his usual self, but Feyre...

The room gasped.

As Azriel had informed you on the flight here, tonight also served another purpose: to tell the world of Feyre’s pregnancy.

She wore a dress of sparkling black panels, and it did nothing to hide her swelling belly. No, it showed off her pregnant womb, gleaming in the candlelight. Rhys’s face was a portrait of smug, male pride. You knew he’d shred anyone who so much as blinked wrong at Feyre into a million bloody ribbons. Indeed, cold violence rippled off Rhys as they walked toward the dais, Feyre’s baby-rich scent filling the air. He’d let everyone here smell it, further confirming that she was with child.

Her serene face was lovely, and her full red lips parted in a smile at Rhys as they aimed for their thrones. Keir looked torn between anger and shock; Eris’s face was carefully neutral. You hadn’t dared look at him until now.

Motion at the back of the room tugged your stare, and then—

Both Nesta and Elain wore black. Both walked behind Rhys and Feyre, a silent indicator that they were a part of the royal family. Had mighty powers of their own. They’d planned it that way apparently, wanting Eris to see for himself how valuable Nesta was.

Nesta in Night Court black threatened to bring you to your knees, and from the glance you snuck at Cassian, his expression said the same. She’d braided her hair over her head in her usual style, but atop it, a delicate tiara of glinting black stone rested, slender spikes jutting upward in a dark corona. Each spike was topped with a tiny sapphire, as if the spikes were so sharp they’d pierced the sky and drawn cobalt blood.

And the dress …

Silver thread embroidered the skintight velvet bodice, the straps so narrow they might as well have been nothing against her moon-white skin. The neckline plunged nearly to her navel, where the silver thread gathered to hold a small sapphire that matched the ones on her crown. The full skirts brushed the dark floor, rustling in the rippling silence. Nesta’s chin remained high, accentuating her long, lovely neck. Her red-painted lips cocked in a feline smirk as her kohl-lined eyes took in the room watching her every breath.

Nesta seemed to glow with the attention. Owned it. Commanded it. You could feel her presence, taste her on your tongue as she approached. It threatened to overwhelm you, but you held it together. You hadn’t seen Nesta before this, having been taken away from the House earlier by Azriel.

Feyre and Rhys took their thrones, and Nesta and Elain came to stand at the foot of the dais, between where you and Azriel were situated opposite of Cassian..

Feyre declared to the assembled crowd, “May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you.”

Keir, whom Azriel had told you about a few hours ago with a disgusted look on his face, scuttled forward, bowing low. “Allow me to extend my congratulations.” It was obvious bullshit.

Eris stalked to his side, not glancing once at you as he passed.. “And allow me to extend mine as well, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.” He flashed Feyre a pretty, cultivated smile. “He shall be thrilled by this news.”

Rhys’s mouth curled in a cruel half smile, the stars winking out in his eyes. “I’m sure he will.”

You evened your breathing, heart racing at everything being on the line. Eris knew your plan, he could easily tell Rhys at this very moment what you were up to. Rhys, who had no idea how much you truly knew, would slaughter you instantly – especially bloodily given the audience in front of him.

The High Lord said to no one in particular, “Music.”

An orchestra hidden in a screened-in mezzanine began playing.

Feyre raised her voice and said, “Go—eat.” The crowd undulated as people aimed for the tables.

Only Eris and Keir remained before them. Neither spared Mor so much as a glance, though she smirked down at them, her red dress like a flame in the gloom of the hall.

Feyre commanded the crowd, her voice like thunder at midnight, “Dance.”

People paired off and fell seamlessly into the music. Keir went with them this time.

“Before you join the merriment, Eris,” Rhys drawled, a long black box appearing in his hands, “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”

You kept your face neutral, but panicked. Was the gift Nesta? Surely not even Feyre would let him speak about her sister like that.

Rhys floated the box over to Eris on a night-kissed wind. Let enough of that wind remain, wrapping behind Eris, for you to know it blocked him from sight. From Keir’s sight, specifically.

Eris lifted his brows, flipping open the carved lid. He stiffened, voice going low. “What is this?”

“A present,” Rhys said, and you caught a glimpse of a hilt in the box.

The dagger Nesta had Made. You refrained from balking at the audacity of the High Lord and Lady to take a weapon that Nesta had Made and pass it to another as if it was theirs to give. They had taken Nesta’s apartment, her inheritance, her freedom, and now the one thing she made herself was also snatched away.

Eris sucked in a breath. Feyre said, “You can sense its power.”

“There’s flame in it,” Eris said, not touching the dagger. As if his own magic warned him. He shut the lid, face slightly pale. “Why give this to me?”

“You’re our ally,” Feyre said, a hand resting on her belly. “You face enemies that exist outside of the usual rules of magic. It seemed only fair to give you a weapon that operates outside those rules, too.”

“This is truly Made, then.”

You braced yourself for the truth, the damning, dangerous truth to be revealed about Nesta. But Rhys said, “From my personal collection. A family heirloom.”

“You possessed a Made item and kept it hidden all these years? During the war?”

“Don’t take our generosity for granted,” Feyre warned Eris quietly.

Eris stilled, but nodded. He extended the box back to Rhys. “I’ll leave it in your keeping while I dance, then.” He added with what you could have sworn was sincerity, “Thank you.”

Feyre nodded as Rhys took the box and set it beside his throne. “Use it well.” She smiled softly at Eris. “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.” You finally glanced over at Nesta, who just looked bored. Like they hadn’t just given away the dagger she’d Made.

Perhaps it was because Nesta’s eyes had drifted toward the dancing, shimmering throng. As if she couldn’t help herself when the music swelled. She seemed to be half-listening. Maybe music meant more to her than the dagger—more than magic and power.

Feyre noted the direction of Nesta’s stare. “My oldest sister shall take my place.”

Nesta barely glanced at Eris, who pulled his assessing gaze from Elain to stare at the eldest Archeron sister with a mix of wariness and intent as she began walking towards him.

Eris offered an arm, and Nesta took it, her face neutral, her chin high, each step gliding. They halted at the edge of the dance floor, pulling apart to face each other.

Others watched from the sidelines as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began, a harp strumming high and sweet. Eris extended a hand, a half smile on his mouth. You resisted the urge to squirm in anticipation at Eris’s upcoming proposal. The ball had only started – it would be hours before the time came to get Nesta out.

As if those harp strings wrapped around Nesta’s arm, she raised it, and placed her hand in his precisely as the last, swift pluck of the harp sounded.

Percussion and horns blasted; low stringed instruments started a rushing stroke of music. A summons to the dance in a countdown to movement. You reminded yourself to breathe as Eris slid his broad hand over Nesta’s waist, tucking her in close. She lifted her chin, looking up into his face as a deep-bellied drum thumped.

And as the violins began their sweeping song, a beckoning back-and- forth, Nesta moved as if her very breath were timed to the music. Eris went with her, and it was clear that he knew the dance’s nuances and exact notes, but Nesta …

She gathered her skirts in her other hand, and as Eris led her into the waltz’s opening movements, her body went loose and taut in so many different places you didn’t know where to look: she was bent and shaped and directed by the sound.

Even Eris’s eyes widened at it—the sheer skill and grace, each movement of her body precisely tuned to each note and flutter of music, from her fingertips to the extension of her neck as she turned, the arch of her back into a held note. You dared a glance at Feyre and Rhys and found even their normally composed faces had gone a bit slack.

The waltz progressed, and you watched with wide eyes as Nesta spun with one arm above her head twelve times as her and Eris moved across the dance floor. The Autumn prince’s eyes were blazing with feral delight, drinking in the elegance of her movements. As they continued to dance and spin you could see, you watched as Eris grew more and more enchanted by the female.

You wondered how much of it was real and how much was an act to justify the proposal he was about to bring forth. You couldn’t blame him for his enamourment, for you felt it too. Both you and Eris saw Nesta for who she truly was, not what the Inner Circle taught her to be. As the pair danced they looked like they were made for each other, unlike whatever she had with Cassian. From the gleam in Eris’s eyes you knew he saw Nesta’s potential, how she needed to be free to spread her wings, not cooped up like a soldier in a camp. It was a sentiment you shared with him, giving you comfort that even if you were never able to join them in Autumn, at least Eris would understand what Nesta needed better than the Night Court.

Eventually, you joined Azriel for a dance, and then Cassian. It was awkward, especially how Cassian took every chance to look over your shoulder in Nesta’s direction. As she spoke in low tones with Eris, Cassian’s grip on your waist tightened.

“That hurts.” You hissed at him, side hurting from the force of his large hand.

“Sorry.” Cassian murmured apologetically, but did not meet your gaze. As you danced with him, his movements got sloppy, distracted by trying to hear whatever Nesta and Eris were saying.

“Get it together,” You snapped under your breath, stepping on his toe deliberately to bring his gaze back to you. “You’re going to make a scene.”

He ignored you, letting go of you and storming over to where Eris and Nesta were dancing.

“Move.”

Cassian’s cold voice cracked through the spell of the music, halting her. He stood before them, amid the sea of people twirling around and around, and even though most wore black, his armour and blades made him seem ... different. It unnerved you.

Eris looked down his straight nose at Cassian. “I don’t take orders from brutes.”

Nesta only said coolly to Cassian, “Am I to understand that you would like to dance with me?”

“Yes.” He was facing away from you, but you didn’t have to see him to know that his eyes simmered with rage.

You clenched your fists, now awkwardly stranded on the dance floor. Cassian was being an asshole, acting like he was entitled to Nesta, like she was his possession that he didn’t like other people touching. It infuriated you – he hadn’t even stayed the night in her bed, yet he behaved as if she was his wife.

Eris bared his teeth at Cassian. “Go sit at your master’s feet, dog.”

“No one likes a selfish partner, Eris.” Nesta said quickly, not so much as looking at Cassian. “Time to share.”

Eris threw her a mocking smile. “We’ll play later, Nesta Archeron.” He ignored Cassian as he fixed his gaze on you. “You look lonely over here, my dear. May I?”

You quickly glanced over at Azriel, who nodded despite his clenched jaw. Cassian had ruffled Eris’ feathers, despite still needing his allegiance. You could see the message in Azriel’s eyes: Do it and help fix this mess.

So you nodded, extending your hand for Eris to take. Everyone was staring at you, many smirking and sneering at how quickly Cassian had left you to fend for yourself. It felt like they were wolves closing in, predatory male eyes drinking in the plunging neckline of your dress, ready to pounce.

But as soon as Eris grabbed your hand and fixed them a stare, they scurried away. You nearly sighed in relief as many of the gazes retreated in fear of the Autumn princeling.

“Thank you.” You whispered under your breath as Eris pulled you in close for the next waltz.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” He chuckled lowly, his lips inches away from your ear. “Your spymaster looks like he’s debating storming over here and gutting me. Might ruin that pretty dress of yours.”

You snorted. “It’s not my dress.”

Eris looked down at you, green eyes gleaming as the thumb on your waist caressed you ever so slightly. “Either way, you look absolutely ravishing in it.” He purred.

You shuddered at the words, unable to contain your reaction to the sound of his velvety voice. He must have felt it, because an even wider smirk played at his lips. Letting him spin you around, you let your skirts fly around your ankles before twirling back into his arms. With a confidence you didn’t know you had, you ever so slightly gripped the fabric of his shirt on his chest and pulled him closer. “It’s a lovely dress,” You murmured seductively. “But do you want to know what I’d change about it?”

“And what might that be?” His voice was positively feline.

You brought your lips up to his ear, letting them graze the shell of them as you whispered, “I wish it was red.”

Ever so faintly, you noted the slight intake of breath at your words – red had always been Eris’ favourite colour, even though it was one of the main colours of his court. He chuckled, moving the hand on the waist to the small of your back and pulling you in closer. The scent of smoke and evergreens enveloped you at being so close to one of the most dangerous males in Prythian. You couldn’t help your beating heart as you felt your years-long crush on your best friend’s brother burn like wildfire.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Eris whispered, peeking over your shoulder towards where the Inner Circle stood, watching. “Although I must say the looks on your host court’s faces are priceless right now. Especially the spying brute, dare I say he is jealous?”

You laughed, unable to help yourself. “No, definitely not. I annoy the shit out of him every day on purpose, he’s quite glad to be rid of my presence for now.”

The music changed, yet Eris did not let you go, and neither did Cassian with Nesta. You glanced over quickly to see them – Nesta was expressionless, but Cassian looked pained. She let him pull her closer, but never for long. It was killing him to see her pull away from his touch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad.

“Good girl.” Eris’s voice snapped you back to attention with such a force you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash. His words went straight to your core, and you prayed to the Mother that the various scents from the busy atmosphere were enough to hide your own. But Eris continued. “So he has not taken you to his bed then.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” You managed to croak out, staring at the brooch on his tunic rather than his eyes. You knew if you looked into them again you’d melt into a puddle.

Eris cocked his head. “Oh come on, darling, indulge me. Rarely has the shadowsinger given that protective glare for anyone aside from dear Morrigan. Satisfy my curiosity.”

You coughed under your breath, trying not to seem bothered. “No. He has not. But considering he’s content with sending me to die I don’t think you have to worry about it.”

Eris’s grip on your hand tightened, and the smirk was gone from his face. He looked at you with seriousness, emerald eyes burning a hole into you. “I will not let that happen.” He promised with lethal calm.

“I hope so.”

You snuck a glance over at the Inner circle and regretted it immediately. Feyre looked confused, a tattooed hand over her belly as if protecting the child from Eris. Azriel, who had retreated to the dias, looked positively murderous. But it was Rhysand who caught your eye. He was watching you like a hawk, violet eyes simmering as you and Eris danced closer than you should have let happen. Your stomach dropped at that gaze, for you knew what kind of stare that was.

Rhysand was starting to get onto you.

And you were going to die for it.

Your heart began to race, and you felt your hands get clammy. Panic rose in your chest, tightening it like a belt.

Eris noticed and frowned at you. “What’s wrong?”

“He knows…” You gulped out, throat dry. “Rhysand… he’s watching. He’s suspicious, and I’ve seen that look before. I saw it when I insulted Feyre in front of him when we first met. He wants to kill me, Eris. He’s going to kill me.”

“Calm down, darling.” Eris said slowly, pulling you closer. “You’ve fooled him for this long, why would that change now?”

“Because he’s been watching us this whole time. I didn’t play my part, Eris. I let myself be drawn in….. he saw us dancing closer than the others and now he’s suspicious. Either way, he kills me tonight or he lets me die in the human lands. I need to get out of here.”

“Okay.” Eris stroked your lower back gently, glancing around at the crowd. “It’s okay. I will get you out of here. Pretend I just said something cruel. Then just follow my lead.”

You nodded, and Eris let go. He did not look back at you as he strode over to the main dining table and sat down, leaving you alone. You made an effort to look upset yet annoyed, scowling visible. A few moments later, you felt a hand on your arm, and looked to the side to see Nesta linking her arm through yours.

“Let’s get something to eat.” Nesta said, leading you over to the private table for the Inner Circle.

What’s going on? Her voice sounded in your head as the crowd parted for the both of you.

Rhys was watching me like a hawk. You replied, ignoring the male who openly sneered at you as you passed. I think he knows something’s going on between me and Eris. He was glaring at me with a promise, Nes. Eris told me to look disgusted and then follow his lead.

Nesta clutched your arm tighter, still holding you as you sat down. Cassian was in the chair next to Nesta, but she paid him no mind. Shit. We need to get out of here. Now. Eris better not fuck this up.

Your conversation with Nesta was broken by Azriel, who was seated across from you. His hazel eyes bore into you as he spoke, “What did Eris say?”

“Nothing pleasant.” You mumbled, filling your cup with wine and taking a large swig.

“Then why did you spend three dances with him?”

“If I’m supposed to be representing your court, would it not be rude of me to pull away from him?”

“If he made you uncomfortable it would be okay to do so.”

‘It’s fine, Azriel. I can handle it. He’s nothing but a snarky, prissy, bastard.”

Azriel’s expression was unreadable, but he did not press the issue. You did your best to dig into the food in front of you, but your churning stomach made it hard, as did the glances from the High Lord.

Luckily, dinner finished quickly, and servants came to clear the table. Eris got up from his seat a few metres away and strode over to Rhysand, sliding his hands into his pockets.

“All right,” He said, “You showed me what I can have, Rhysand. I’m intrigued enough to ask what you’d want in return.”

Nesta tensed beside you. This was the moment you had been waiting for for months.

But Rhys didn’t move from where he lounged at the head of the table. “What do you mean by that?”

Lust glazed Eris’s eyes. Covetous, calculating and lustful. “I mean that whatever you want, I’ll give it to you in exchange for Nesta. As my bride.” He jerked his chin to the box with the dagger at Rhys’s feet. “I’d rather have her than that.”

“You danced three dances with her!” Feyre squawked. Rhys’s lips seemed to be fighting a losing battle not to smile.

It wasn’t heard to tell that Cassian was pondering whether to strangle Eris’s throat or slit the skin wide open. Azriel’s syphons glowed, ready to step in.

“That’s not my decision,” Rhys said calmly to Eris. “And it seems foolish for you to offer me anything I want in exchange for her, anyway.”

His jaw tightened. “I have my reasons.”

From the shadows in his eyes, you could sense that both Cassian and Azriel knew something more lay beneath the rash offer. Something that even Az’s spies hadn’t picked up on at the Autumn Court. It wasn’t Nesta who Azriel looked to, but you.

You avoided his gaze.

Eris added, “It is a bonus, of course, that in doing so, I would be repaying Cassian for ruining my betrothal to Morrigan.”

Cassian’s hands curled into fists, but Mor’s fingers landed on his arm. You were as still as a board, not even sure if you were breathing. This was your chance, or Nesta’s at least.

Rhys said, “Anything I want, whether it be armies from the Autumn Court or your firstborn, you would grant me in exchange for Nesta Archeron as your wife?”

Cassian growled low in his throat, and Azriel visibly kicked him under the table. Nesta said nothing, despite being the potential bride in question. You both knew she was smart enough to know Eris would ask Rhys in the typical male-dominant traditions of his court.

Eris glared. “Not as far as the firstborn, but yes, Rhysand. You want armies against Briallyn and my father, you’ll have them.” His lips curved upward. “I couldn’t very well let my wife’s sister go into battle unaided, could I?”

Rhys silently laughed. His face remained stone-cold as he said, “I’ll consider it, and talk to Nesta. Keep the dagger, though. You might need it.”

It’s now or never. You said to Nesta. She squeezed your hand under the table.

“Wait a minute.” Nesta’s voice rang clear as day as she spoke up, grey eyes burning as she addressed Eris and the High Lord. “You are not my keeper, Rhysand. Nor am I an object, Eris. If you want me as your wife, you must ask me directly.”

Eris smirked. “I knew I liked you.” Before any of the shocked faces could say anything, Eris got down on one knee. The entire crowd was dead silent, eyes fixated on the scene near the dias. He bowed his head to Nesta like a knight to his king, then looked up at her with calculating eyes. “Nesta Archeron,” He continued. “I admire you greatly. You have a sharp mind and many talents. If you would do me the honour of being my bride, I vow that you will always have my protection, my heart, and the freedom to live your life how you see fit. Nesta, will you marry me?”

A pin dropping would have sounded like an earthquake in the silence of the room. Bewilderment was written across everyone’s face at the table, even Azriel’s. To them, Eris was simply making false, flowery promises. But you, and Nesta too, knew the meaning behind those words – a reminder of the actual promise he made you in the spring court. That he would help you get free.

Nesta spoke clearly after a few moments. “Yes.”

“What?” Feyre practically shrieked, standing up abruptly and then swaying slightly. “Are you insane?”

“Nesta…” Mor gasped. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying? Did you put a spell on her, you lying bastard?”

Wood splintered as Cassian’s grip on the edge of the table cracked it. He stood up, snarling and ready to lunge at Eris but Azriel was quicker. Within a heartbeat he winnowed across the table and restrained Cassian, who fought like a rabid dog.

“I cannot let you accept this offer, Nesta.” Rhysand growled viciously. Feyre had started to cry, weeping into her hands as her mate’s hand rubbed her back. You resisted the urge to snort at her level of distraught – was she really so blind as to how miserable Nesta was here?

Nesta shot him a fiery glare. “You said it was my choice, remember?” She spat. “And I am accepting Eris’ offer.”

“But why?” Rhys questioned, eyes narrowing.

Her chin was held high as she responded. “Because I do not wish to train to be a warrior. I do not want to have to ‘heal’ to fit a mould in order to be in your little circle. I will not be your caged beast, Rhysand.”

“If you think Eris can give you freedom, you are sorely mistaken.”

Silver fire rose in Nesta’s eyes. “We all know the Night Court does not suit me. If my sister wasn’t your mate, you’d have chucked me out into the streets and you know it.”

Rhys’ dark power filled the room slowly. “I will not let you hand yourself over to that monster.”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me.” Nesta’s silver fire continued to rise, matching Rhys’ magic. “It’s a little late to pretend you care, Rhysand.”

Eris finally spoke up, having risen to his feet again. “If I may,” He interjected. “You did say it was the lady’s choice, Rhysand.”

“Shut up, Eris.” The High Lord growled.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Eris!” Cassian snarled viciously. Sweat was pouring from Azriel’s brow as he continued to fight to hold his brother back.

Your blood chilled as a glint emerged in Rhysand’s violet eyes. From the smirk that formed at his lips, you knew it wasn’t good. He relaxed visibly, putting his hands in his pockets. Nesta glanced at you worriedly, sharing the same sentiment.

“After all, Nesta,” He purred, cocking his head. “Do you really want to abandon your mate?”

The world went so silent, not even a breath was taken. Even Cassian had stopped his squirming, giving Azriel a break. It felt like you were falling for hours through an endless void, feeling nothing but everything all at once.

Nesta had a mate.

Cassian was Nesta’s mate.

“What did you just say?” Nesta’s voice was quiet, faraway. Your heart was beating so fast you weren’t even sure you could hear properly. Your hands shook under the table, and tears began to prick at your eyes. The female you had grown so close to, had made a magical ancient bond with… the female you loved had a mate.

It would explain Cassian’s behaviour towards Nesta, his possessiveness – it wasn’t just because they were fucking each other, it was his instincts. You wondered if Nesta knew, but you desperately wished that she hadn’t. It seemed that way, given her reaction, but the way she always avoided the topic of Cassian made you think.

“Surely after weeks of bedding each other you would have realized?” Rhysand’s violet gaze was simmering with smugness, like he had won already. “Cassian is your mate, Nesta. That is why I cannot let you accept Eris’ offer.”

Nesta was utterly and completely still. She glanced at Cassian, looking as if she had seen a ghost. You felt sick, watching them lock eyes. Nesta was impossible to read, but Cassian’s face gave his every thought away. He loved her.

“A mating bond does not shackle her to the brute,” Eris quipped, coming to stand beside Nesta and glare at the High Lord. “They should not be forced together because of it. Technically speaking, unless a mating ceremony is performed and the bond is accepted, Nesta is free to do as she wishes.”

Mor piped up, addressing Eris. “She would never be yours, Eris. She would always belong here, with her mate.”

With her mate. You were definitely going to throw up soon from the shock of everything. The glimmer of hope you had died out, fading like the last embers of a fire.

“Stop talking about me like I am not here.” Nesta hissed at the female, dragging her gaze from Cassian. “I do not wish to be Cassian’s mate. I do not wish to reside here. I do not want to be any part of this court. I will be accepting Eris’ offer, and choosing my own path. I still have a future, but it does not involve your little circle. I don’t care about some stupid bond, I am not bound here.”

Feyre spoke up, voice shaking through her tears. “I don’t think you quite understand what a mating bond really–”

“And I don’t want to.” Nesta’s voice was cold as those silver flames rose in her eyes. “I don’t care what it means. I will be leaving.”

She turned back to Cassian, not an ounce of mercy in her eyes. “I do not want you, Cassian. If you were a good mate, you would not have let me be locked up and trained against my will so I could become a version of myself that had to be worthy of being loved by you. A good mate would not have fucked me after I was attacked by the kelpie, nor would you have laughed at me as I fell down the stairs when I was clearly suffering. Whatever we had, it is over.”

A strangled noise emerged from Cassian’s throat, and Azriel tightened his grip on the general. “Nesta, please!” Cassian begged. “Stay. We can figure this out. We don’t have to do anything about it yet, just please stay here.”

“No. I have let you all take my choices from me for too long. This one is my own.”

Mor stood up, releasing her hand from Feyre’s back and gestured to Eris, whose eyes were wide with shock. “Is he making you do this? Tell us now, Nesta, and we can help you get out of it.”

Nesta simply ignored her, turning instead to you. You felt your heart break into a million pieces as her gaze met yours. That beautiful face stared down at you, softening as she held out her hand. “Come.” She said.

What are you doing? You asked her.

Getting you out of here with me. Nesta replied as you took her hand. You stood up shakily, coming to stand next to her. Out of the corner of your eye, you snuck a glance at Eris. He was looking at you, and blinked once – which you interpreted as a confirmation to keep playing along.

“Nesta, what are you doing?” Azriel questioned, puzzled. It was the first time you saw the spymaster confused, and if the situation weren’t so dire you would have laughed.

“Taking her with me.” Nesta said simply, squeezing your hand. “(Y/N) is my friend, and I would like her to join me in Autumn.”

Rhysand took a step towards Nesta, that smugness from a few minutes ago replaced with pure violence and authority. “I can’t allow that.”

“Why not?” Eris said, grabbing Nesta’s elbow. “It would be nice for Nesta to have a friend in the court with her. My father could certainly use a new courtier. Let her come with us and we shall consider it your wedding gift.”

“No.” Rhysand growled.

The room was the definition of tension, onlookers staring at their High Lord with wide eyes. Kier was practically salivating at the scene in front of him. Nesta’s posture was composed, but you could feel her panic beside you. There was no way he was going to let both of you go, it would make him seem weak in front of the Hewn City.

Before you could say anything, you saw a movement out of the corner of your eye. Azriel was no longer holding Cassian, and had disappeared entirely. You were about to beg Nesta to tell Eris to winnow you all away right that second, but a familiar scarred hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled, yanking your grip from Nesta’s hand.

“NO!” Was all you could shriek out as Azriel’s shadows engulfed you, winnowing you away from the Court of Nightmares. You had cast one last glance at Nesta, her and Eris’ features wide with shock as the spymaster ripped you away from them and into the cold darkness.

taglist (comment if you want to be added): @queercontrarian @kitkat-writes-stuff @moonfawnx @sevikas-whore @weird-and-wise @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet @kingshitonly @ladyofcherries @eerievixen @readingwritingwatching @peacecoffeeandflowers @a-frog-with-a-laptop @shadowqueen25 @lana08 @highladyofillyria @rachelnicolee @ladespedidas @little-darlingo @manonblackbeakquidditchteam13 @demirunner @terorovaerangi @hauntedandhopeful @younxii @microwaveallthedemons @fanfictioniseverything @lovra974 @maddietheshoe @peaceandcrackers @emy1-9 @lostinfantasyworldsbi @issybee0611 @thoughtfulshepherdmongerkid @belledawnidk @whhyyynottt @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @littlebbb @piceous21 @sevendeadlyshins-blog @searchingford

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tj-dragonblade · 5 months

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*knock knock knock* ❄️☃️🎄 Asking for 24 for the Spotify Wrapped!!!

24 - Dance With the Dragon by Dark Sarah

Congratulations, you've landed on one of the songs that's officially on my list of Songs That Would Make Great Dreamling Fics (That I'll Never Write)! Based entirely on the video linked above and the story that it's part of, this would be a fantasy AU where the vibes are 'Labyrinth meets Alice in Wonderland' with hints of Phantom of the Opera, Beauty and the Beast, and Hades and Persephone sprinkled over for flavor.

The basic idea is that Hob is trapped in some alternate reality and trying to collect a key from each realm he passes through to be able to get back to his own reality. No idea at this juncture what the first realm/key would be - maybe something with the fae, maybe hell, idk. The second realm is Dream's. Do I want to keep to the source and make him a dragon who lost his wings for hubris and arrogance and got banished from the 'upper world' to rule this dark 'underworld'? Maybe, but that's also very Lucifer-ish. So maybe I'd blend in something closer to his canon. In any case. Hob tries to sneak into Dream's castle, get the key, sneak out. He does not succeed and is taken before Dream. There is antagonistic chemistry. There is sneering haughty-in-my-superiority taunting and 'let's be reasonable' demands. There is at least one challenge set, there is Hob as a 'guest' of Dream's until he completes the challenge ('So I'm a prisoner, then.' 'Oh no, you may leave any time you like, but you will gain no key until you complete my challenge.' 'But what good is leaving without the key, when I'll just be stuck here forever??' 'I fail to see how that is my problem'), there is continued verbal fencing and sparring and building UST as Hob struggles with the challenge, there is an elaborate ball (masquerade?) held, there is a waltz charged with so much tension and raging attraction it's a wonder the room doesn't spontaneously combust. There is at least one moment of 'Oh no under different circumstances this could be More™️' and genuine understanding/connection between them. In the end, Hob finally succeeds at the challenge, earns the key and departs on a note of uneasy flirtation - Dream bowing and kissing his hand in farewell as he acknowledges his defeat, lingering intense smirky eye-contact as Hob goes, that kind of thing.

Potentially this can go on, if I continue the thread of the source storyline but lean on Dream's canon for details. Perhaps collecting the three keys would give him the means to restore Orpheus/free Orpheus/something to do with Orpheus, and he's never had the means to collect the other two keys on his own, but now that Hob has collected the first and second, if Dream accompanies him while he collects the third, they can both use the keys to achieve their ends - Hob to go back to his own world and Dream to restore Orpheus. So Dream leaves Lucienne in charge of the realm and follows after Hob, catches up to him, proposes they cooperate etc; they quest for the third key and finally resolve that UST in the process. When they get the third key, and present it to let's say the Fates, they're told they cannot both claim reward - and they put the choice to Dream, his lover or his son. Let Hob go back to his world/his regular life, or be 'selfish' and choose to cash in for his own goal instead. It could end here with Dream choosing to let Hob go, which could be passing a test by the Fates and as reward for passing he still gets to save/restore Orpheus. Or, the longer and angstier version, he chooses Orpheus and thereby casts Hob into yet another alternate realm, and the next leg of the story is Dream's quest to find Hob again and seek his forgiveness, and find a way to get him home. Hob can't exactly fault Dream for choosing his son over this outsider human that he's started sleeping with, but it still hurts, still feels on some level like betrayal, and while he might like to freely offer forgiveness it's more plausible that there will have to be some earning done. Eventually of course they reconcile and find a way to get Hob home and then of course establish a means by which they can continue to cross worlds to see each other.

Anyway this is far more a mental exercise in mapping one story to another and seeing where they might translate than it is a viable fic idea; it's far too grand in scope and not nearly detailed enough for me to realistically take it on. Mostly I just want the enemies-to-lovers fraught-with-tension ballroom dancing scene.

Spotify Wrapped Askmeme Post

#Thank you!#Askmemes #TJs Writing #SpotifyWrapped asks #Dreamling #Sandman

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ablatheringblatherskite · 3 months

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How about 20 with Raoul and Christine?

I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED!! So sorry it took so long!!! I blame it all on editing 😭

So the song I got for this is Johnny Can't Decide from Tick, Tick... Boom!

And so the result of that song paired with these characters ended up being this!:

Summary:

He was lost. He had never been so lost in his entire life. Raoul is haunted by his thoughts, his love, and that dreaded opera ghost—but most especially by a decision he is not sure he has the right to make.

Anyway this fic was definitely a CHALLENGE to write because I don't normally write internal monologues, but it was so fun!! Thank you again for sending me this ask!! This is officially my first posted Phantom of the Opera fic!! WOOOOOOO!! Hope you like it!! 🥹

(I also hope you don't mind that Christine isn't actually IN the fic, since she's still a big part of it!)

Send me a number and a character(s) and I'll write something based on the number it lands on in my Spotify Wrapped!

#asks #my writings #spotify wrapped challenge #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #poto #poto musical #poto leroux #raoul de chagny #raoulstine #phanfiction #phanfic #aster's writing journey

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dangerously-human · 6 months

Text

I was tagged by @mademoiseli, @mrgartist, and @saxifrage-wreath for two different 10 songs games, one asking for 10 songs I've been listening to a lot lately and one asking for 10 songs that come up when I put my music on shuffle. So I decided to combine them by shuffling my Spotify On Repeat playlist.

1. Waking Up - We the Kingdom (Lockwood & Co playlist, captures the vibe of hope over despair and death over life as well as specifically the feeling of coming back from the Other Side - "I am alive in the land of the living" sung as victorious, love it!)

2. Told You So - The Band CAMINO (Guaranteed a spot in my Spotify Wrapped, favorite TBC banger)

3. Dancing on My Own (Tiësto Remix) - Calum Scott (Red October was fun while it lasted)

4. Can't Leave the Night - BADBADNOTGOOD (Lockwood & Co playlist, bangin' choice for a theme song)

5. Groceries - Mallrat (Lockwood & Co playlist, impeccable domestic fluff vibes, listened to for at least an hour straight for reasons of my latest flash fiction prompt response)

6. Haunted - The Band CAMINO (Lockwood & Co playlist... Are we sensing a theme... Speaking of, theme song and title source for Living With the Ghost of You)

7. BREAKFAST - half•alive (Look at that, more Lockwood & Co playlist, fantastic Locklyle song that makes me Feel Things about vulnerability and the push-pull of letting someone see you as you really are, thematic for more than one WIP - in fact it's been a competition for which gets the lyric title and which - "Here's a safe place to lay your heart down, it's a second chance, it won't be your last" GAH)

8. Captives Come Home - Run Kid Run (I loved this song in high school and I'm so happy to have it on the Lockwood & Co playlist as a song addressing the Other Side/Harrowing of Hell connection while also just being great imagery for the kids pulling each other along through Dark London, I'm completely not over "So hold on tight let's go, and leave behind false sense of hope, as I'm waiting for the world to end I'm clinging onto oxygen, pulling captives by the hand, come home" and then "the world is falling faster falling, so take this step and leave, to bring you home from the other side" like HECK you've got Other Side and Creeping Shadow references plus take my hand Lucy and let's go and the general climax of the story like WHAT)

9. Spiders - Bear's Den (Lockwood & Co playlist, excellent Black Winter angst song, with bonus imagery that fits in beautifully with the spiders/haunting motif in the series, also a theme/title source that a couple WIPs are competing for - "I can't take back all the hurt I've caused, everything I love I have somehow lost, it's 4 in the morning and the spiders are crawling in my mind replaying pictures of all that I can't undo, love, I'm trying, but I can't pull myself out when the darkness comes")

10. Last Man in the World - The Band CAMINO (Had to listen to the album on repeat ahead of the concert, you know how it is)

I tag @fairytale-lights, @mybrainisalibrary, and @loubuttons to participate, if you would like!

#personal #lockwood & co

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patxhwrk · 2 years

Text

ooh jump scare /j Haha hey guys guess whos back

lost the ask but an anon asked: "I’m gonna need a part 2 of “in due time” cause that was amazing! Like what did y/n do to anger celestial, what happens when the fatui find out there death was faked will they try to get them back or deem them a traitor? The story was genuinely amazing, great work!!" thank u anon u are also great!! ^^

Sorry if youve requested from me and havent seen your request. I havent deleted any of the requests and i might take longet to post than i did before, but im gonna be writing fics i want to write to get back into the flow of writing. until then, have this fic i wrote like two months ago and never got to post :D lost my files so things are gonna look a little different, but its all good! Hope you guys enjoy this, might be a little different from In Due Time ^^ and might be a bit shitty because i forgot what my original idea was haha (also i listened to The Magnus Archives which kinda inspired this. its a horror podcast and if youre interested, you can listen to it on spotify or on their website. its a really good story and i really recommend it!)

-ˋˏ✄— Distant Watcher

[ pt 1 - In Due Time ]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ Fatui x Reader, Aether x Reader

Pronouns: they/them

"The past, nothing but a wilting memory."

.navigation. // .genshin impact masterlist.

To anger the gods is no easy feat.

Even if a threat was directed at the Celestia, they would merely shake it off, knowing that they hold power over anyone.

But this being. This...creature.

They are inhuman.

Neither mortal, nor were they divine. A shooting star from a different world, but they were unlike the huntress of the wild named Aloy.

To their world, they were seen above many.

They were like the Baladeer, but instead of a puppet created to serve a nation, they were created to watch over their people, to protect them.

A watcher, a spectator.

The observer, the eye.

Y/n L/n was sent by the divine of another world to watch over Celestia.

And that itself was enough of a threat.

─𖠄࿐

The moment they landed on the land of Teyvat, their memory had been erased. That was the first step that Celestia took as a precaution.

They may be from a different world, but as long as they were in Teyvat, Celestia could watch over them.

Though, no matter how much they would forget, one thing remained that not even Celestia can get rid of

Their purpose was to watch over the divine, and that would not change.

To them, watching, observing, all and any was what they felt the need to do. To watch as a shadow in the corner, or to observe as a civilian in the audience.

In audience of what? They could not remember.

But as they found the Fatui, as the Tsaritsa herself took in the outlander, they watched in silence as the memories slowly flooded back in.

Celestia could not keep them away.

So death had been the final option.

─𖠄࿐

That could not keep them away, too.

It only made it harder for Celestia.

Despite being gods, they could not find the watcher in disguise. They could not trace the bits of the Pyro vision they had given them in order to keep track of them.

Y/n L/n was nowhere in Teyvat, or so they thought.

But that was not the issue of the present.

Now, in the throne of the Zapolyarny palace, was the Tsaritsa, looking down at the traveller as he writhed in the grasp of Pierro.

"It is your choice, Y/n," she said, gaze turned to the outlander. "Heed at my call or he will face a fate worse than death."

She reaches out a hand, and speaks with a booming voices. "Come, distant watcher, as we bring mayhem upon Celestia."

Y/n reaches out a hand towards the archon, their back towards Celestia.

"May the divine who created you be pleased with our success."

—PATCHWRK!

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x gn reader #dottore x reader #dottore x gn reader #childe x reader #childe x gn reader #la signora x reader #la signora x gn reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x gn reader #aether x reader #aether x gn reader

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formosusiniquis · 5 months

Note

hmm. #22 and ronance perhaps?

Okay so first I feel like you need to know, I open and closed my spotify app three times thinking it would somehow change the song because 21 was Super Trouper and 23 was DANSE MACABRE (off the new duran duran album) BUT 22 is actually 🥁 Rock You Like a Hurricane - Scorpions.

So I can't not at least mention the obvious which is smut fic... it's right there, easy picking.

But that's too obvious, actually, so after staring at the lyrics for fifteen minutes I've landed on something a little more bizarre.

Nancy knew po-dunk small towns, escaped from one to Emerson and never looked back. They're small minded and gossipy, they see a woman with ambition and they force her back into the role she's expected to fill. Reporter turns to advice columnist turns to glorified secretary. She got out and she made the name they tried to deny her. She was from there, knew the kind, so they sent her back. The only reporter on the staff with the experience, practical and professional, to handle the story that was brewing in a town to the west of the Devil’s Backbone.

Nancy knew small towns. Or she thought she did until she got to Devil’s Sting.

Convinced she’s lost, she stops at the first convenience store she stumbles after hours of driving. A sagging wooden cabin sat behind two rusted gas pumps. She parks the ford she rented from the airport beside the pump, a sign taped to a stone attendant to the left of it that reads “Pump your own damn gas, pay inside.” She leaves that for later. She’s been on the road too long, and trusts her map too little. She needs to be sure she’s headed the right way.

The door to the cabin opens into a windchime. Its alarm is sharp, delicate, discordant. The lights of the store are on, but the open expanse of the room is empty except for the shelves of food and miscellaneous roadside repair parts. If she were the type to panic, the type who didn’t keep a Smith & Wesson in her purse, she’d worry that her latest break was about to turn into the opening scene of a horror movie. But she does know better. And over the dull whir of the slowly rotating ceiling fans she hears a voice call out, “It’s your turn, Rob, and if it’s Henderson you can tell him to fuck off.”

“Not my kid to raise, take him to Monongahela so he can play with the radios so he leaves us alone.”

From beside the row of glass front fridges, a door to the back swings open. A lanky woman, all leg and clashing patterns, lopes out. A cloud of dusty blonde hair swirls around her head as she spins to face Nancy, an easy smile frozen on her face as the woman recognizes her as stranger.

“I was hoping you could point me in the right direction.”

---

“There’s a story here I know it,” Nancy insists. It’s hard to tell if Robin is listening the way she bustles around the general store. She dodges between the shelves and Steve, like she has every time she’s provided a friendly face and a sympathetic ear since Nancy arrived to town. It’s an insular community, she hadn’t been expecting that. How closed off everyone would be compared to the first two that she met.

“You think?” Robin asks, voice raised to be heard from the back of the store.

“Rob, inches,” Steve cuts back. He’s the stranger of the two, Nancy thinks. Runs hot and cold with her, happy to answer certain questions but the second that it feels like she’s caught the trail of something he’ll shut her out. Steal Robin’s attention away to the store, to the banal goings on of the town and not the reappearances of kids who’ve gone missing across the country only to arrive in this backwater little town small enough she had to special order the map. They speak in code, Steve and Robin. A shorthand Nancy isn’t familiar with that belays their familiarity with one another. Half thoughts they trade back and forth over top her head. Keeping her at arms distance.

“You’re one to talk.” It’s the closest to disagreement she’s seen them come, an opening that she’s happy to take advantage of.

She’s seen how Robin looks at her. The kind of looks that might feel discrete in a two stoplight town, a town where everyone knows everyone and you can pass off that sort of glance as gossip. Nancy is metropolitan. The peeks and dragging stares that Robin sends her way when she thinks Nancy is distracted may as well be a billboard.

A hand wraps around Robin’s arm, her fingers closing around a surprisingly firm bicep beneath the layers of flannel and tweed. Never once has Nancy seen her not in motion, this stills her completely. Rigid as the concrete statues out front -- hand carved by Steve, Robin had noted the first time Nancy had noted them -- it’s easy as pie to reel her in closer. “We should talk about this more in private, you could be a real asset, Robin. Could we meet for dinner? If you don’t mind a late night I’d love to pick your brain.”

Robin’s eyes dart to Steve, instinct, but he’s distracted. He’s missed the way Nancy has her nails dug in, literally, they crease the rolled up sleeves of her button down. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” she whispers back.

Perfect. A hum settles at the back of Nancy’s brain, the feeling of a plan, a story, coming together. Almost a purr. “I’m in room 13 when you get off work.”

---

So in my head this is definitely long fic so I'm gonna cut it off here with a couple of vignettes. I'm intentionally misunderstanding the metaphor and playing with the wolf and chase themes. Robin (and Steve, because if it's happened to Robin then it's definitely also happened to Steve) is a werewolf. Or is she? I think this element is definitely played like an X-Files episode and it's talked around and hinted at but never on page confirmed in any significant way.

It probably plays around with some like southern gothic themes too, this outsider vs insider sort of thing coupled with the additional element of the othering nature of the queer identity then making what would be an outsider part of the same outgroup.

#ronance #stranger things #my fic #jj my dearest i have no fucking clue what i have presented to you pls enjoy #i do love this album but like getting the sex song of the album makes it difficult to do anything that isn't smut fic

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hermesserpent-stuff · 5 months

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based on the httyd au thought i had the other day i spun a wheel for my spotify wrapped challenge. and I got 74 and wrote this!

@lirabuswavi no viggo sadly.

not yet...

Hiccup stretches a little as he leans back on Toothless. The two glide above the clouds, where the sun is at its brightest and warmest. He chirps lowly to Toothless as he flexes his covered fingers. His false blunt claws made up of a mixture of shed scales and treated leather cover the back half of his fingers while his pads are still exposed to allow him to feel and work. Makes deboning fish a tone easier. Toothess chirps back to him.

Happy. Both are so happy.

He shifts back up and nudges his companion.

“Earth go!”

Dragonese rolls off his tongue easily and Toothless gurgles a positive reply. His companion knows what he wants to do. The last two years since the death of the Queen, Hiccup had spent most of his time dragon-watching, flying around with Toothless. He has focused on learning to speak to his best friend. And that is his plan for today. A new island and maybe new dragons. He is slowly getting further and further from home. But the map runs out eventually and Hiccup hesitates to go further.

What if he got lost so far from home?

What if something broke and Toothless needed a repair?

Toothless cuts into a sudden barrel roll and Hiccup shifts his metal foot accordingly, letting out a human whoop and then a dragon roar of excitement. They spiral for a moment before catching a up draft and slowly rising. He rubs his blunt claws over his friend’s head, scratching all the spot he knows Toothless loves. He earns a high pitch croon in response to his efforts.

They land on a very small island with a few terrible terrors and gronkles dotting the area. The wild dragons shoot Hiccup a wary look. But he chirps out a friendly greeting while leanig against Toothless who huffs at them to be nice to his wingpartner. A few come over to curiously sniffing at his arms. Hiccup lets them, calling out softly to them. They bump him respectfully, smelling his rank in the nest. He gives out a few scratches and then settles into writing and drawing in his journal. Toothless settles beside him and a few of the dragons come to rest around him. The others wander back to what they were doing before.

If only humans were this easy to interact with.

He spots a few dragons that seem warier. He sees that those dragons have deep scars. Not from other dragons. But from blades. A few back in the nest had such injuries from when there were raids on the village. Missing limbs, damaged tails, and nicked wings. But some of those scars are not familiar looking. They look to be from traps. He had encountered a few dragons with the strange traps still attached. There are people out there trying to trap dragons. People who use strange metals that Hiccup had not seen befor that seems to defy all the dragonblasts that he has aimed at it after removing it from the poor dragons.

He slips out some of the gear he had taken to carrying with him. He chirps and reassures as he moves closer to the dragons with these injuries. Toothless comes with him and shows off his prosthetic tail. This seems to reassure many of the dragons. He chitters and chirps as he works.

After he finishes, he invites any that want to join his nest to return home with him. Or if they ever need repairs to their prosthetic. He and Toothless take off into the sky as the sun starts to set, slowly making their way home.

#spotify wrapped #spotify wrapped challenge #hermes speaks #httyd #how to train your dragon #toothless #hiccup #dragonese #Spotify #claws and calls au

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theresa-of-liechtenstein · 3 months

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god help me what a rehearsal that was (3hr theater dress rehearsal edition)

hung out with viola friend before while we drank hot chocolates and a little ladybug landed on me right before we went inside. i put them down on a bench but as we were unpacking inside it turned out that they'd followed us inside so i went and took them out again

started rehearsal off strong with tita conductor making her appearance in the longest most Shaped coat.

apparently we are going to get a DRONE VIDEO taken of us in our normal rehearsal room??? help me????? at least i won't have to collect music on sunday afternoon

the dvořák sounded ALARMINGLY BETTER in the theater than in the rehearsal room like huh?? whuh huh??? i thought the theater was supposed to be the acoustically inferior room help me 😭

i cued the seconds into the triplet at bar 30 and tita conductor looked me dead in the eye with a BIG, full-face smile as she conducted and i vaguely remembered the one tumblr post that was like 'a girl's frizzy hair is actually her halo', which was a fun thought to have at bar 30 of the third movement of dvořák's symphony no. 7

we get to the brahms and tita conductor says 'we need to not get too excited with this one' and then had us run through the most pussy-popping, emotional, this-is-the-reason-why-it's-almost-number-1-on-my-spotify-wrapped second theme. like girl how do you expect me to be normal about this

there were apparently conductor-provided chocolates in the green room but i did not see or partake in any of them because i was too occupied with the egg salad sandwich that had almost made me late to meet with viola friend

another piece that sounded startlingly better in the theater than in the rehearsal room: the cello concerto. like that was GOOD

at some point (idr where) we were playing and tita conductor let out an actual groan; she explained after cutting us off 'violins, i let out that cry of pain because we did not end that phrase'

we pressed on and to be completely honest lads, by hour three i was really tiring out and making really stupid mistakes so i had to dial back. i was probably playing at like 60% or 70% by the time we got to the haydn but we still ran through the whole thing like tita conductor. please. im expired

we returned to the beginning and tita conductor leaned over my stand mid-conducting and said something about a C-sharp and i was so startled that i promptly lost my spot, stopped playing for a second, and looked up at her like 🥺. much to viola friend's mirth

ate honorsprofessor and the ethnomusicology grad student in my section both complimented my leading 🥹 like it means a lot to me bc i may not be the most skilled or best violinist but if i'm a good leader then it's okay. and i feel like my work here has helped me become stronger and stronger as a violinist in ways i couldn't have if i had retracted my audition application last minute like i thought i would in july 2022

so yeah. onward to the weekend i guess

#em jumped up busker

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