#but air is cooling and leaves are changing and i am taking a deep breath
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The stars look beautiful tonight
Zuko x Reader (SMUT)
Summary: Gazing at the stars at night leads them to some fun events. (Basically, porn without a plot.)
A/N: Zuko and reader are 18.
The day was exhausting, they had trained with Aang all day long, and Y/N hoped to sleep as soon as she lay down. But sleep never came to her. After almost an hour of tossing and turning, she decided to take some air. She noticed she wasn’t the only one that couldn't sleep, seeing Zuko sitting on the ground with his back against a tree closer to the camp. Y/N walked to him, sitting by his side.
“The stars are beautiful tonight.” He says without looking at her.
“They are.” She smiles looking up at the sky too.
Zuko took a deep breath of the cool night air “I have always loved the quietness of the night. It’s so calm.”
Y/N chuckled “You’re being quite philosophical tonight.”
“Maybe I am.” He chuckles too “But it’s true, isn’t it? When you’re outside at night, everything seems different.”
“Yeah.” She looks at him with a small smile.
Zuko glances over at her “You’re different too.”
“How so?” She asked him
He leans in slightly, his voice lowering “You’re not afraid of me anymore. You used to tense up whenever I came near, but now you can just sit here and talk with me like this.”
Y/N laughed softly. He was right. She used to be tense around him when he joined them because of his past actions, but soon she warmed up to him...maybe too much “Well, you’re not trying to kill us anymore, so...”
“I guess not. Things change, huh?” He smiles slightly at her.
“Sometimes for the better.” Y/N returns his smile.
“Speaking of changes...I have been meaning to ask you something. How long have you been in love with him?” Zuko asked leaning back against the tree.
Y/N looked at him with confusion...did he noticed? “With whom?”
“You know who. Sokka.” He says watching her carefully.
“Sokka?” She asks laughing. “I’m not in love or anything like that with him, he’s like a brother to me.”
Zuko leans in again “Really? Because you always look at him with such longing in your eyes.” Of course he would think that. He probably noticed that when he was with Sokka, so he mistakes the person she was actually looking at.
“He loves Suki, Zuko. Believe me, I feel nothing like that for him” Y/N laughs softly again.
“If you say so.” He says, looking back at the sky. They kept in a comfortable silence, until her hands reached to brush his hair out of his face that was already falling in his eyes.
Zuko closed his eyes slightly, enjoying the feeling of her gently touch on him “So... you’re really not in love with him?”
“No.” She replied softly, with a small smile in the conner of her mouth.
He leans in closer to her, their faces just inches apart “I’m glad to hear that.” Zuko leans in even further, his lips brushing against her in a soft, slow kiss. She immediately kissed him back. Zuko deepened the kiss, his hand moving gently to her face. He can feel his heart racing against his chest as he pulls her closer while their tongues dance together.
As the kiss breaks, Zuko looks into her eyes. He can see the desire and need in them. Slowly, he begins to trail kisses down her neck, his hands moving to untie her top. Y/N gives more access to him and soon she’s without her top. She moves to straddles his lap, taking his top off too, making Zuko groans as their skin touches. His hands travel up her side towards her bra, pulling it off slowly and revealing her breast to his gaze. Y/N could feel him growing harder and his erection brushing against her thigh.
Zuko’s lips move to her neck again, leaving soft kisses as he makes his way to her breasts. He looks at her with his eyes dark with lust, before he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking gently. That made Y/N bit her lip to hold back a moan since they’re so close to where the other are sleeping, rolling her hips against him.
Feeling her movement, Zuko groans, his hands moving to grip her hips. He continues his work in her breath, teasing her nipple with his tongue as he begins to grind against her. Y/N’s hands work quickly to open his pants, making Zuko groans again. He reaches to help her pull his pants and underwear off and she does the same with her own pants. His cock springs free, throbbing with need. Feeling her wetness against his erections, Zuko let out a moan.
Y/N positioned herself on him as she lowers herself slowly. Zuko growls softly as she rides him, his hips also moving meeting her movements, making her moan softly too as she rocks back and forth. Each second was getting harder for her to hold back her moans. Zuko bites his lips too, trying to hold back his own moans. They increase the speed, his cock thrusting deeper and harder into her as his fingers slide between them, finding her clit and rubbing softly.
This time she couldn’t hold back, she let out a loud moan escape her lips. Zuko flips them so she was laying on the ground. He continues to thrust into her, his hips slamming against hers as he takes her harder and faster. His fingers also move faster on her clit.
“Gods...” She moans again.
Zuko’s teeth graze her shoulder as he feels himself getting closer to the edge, his cock throbbing inside her as he picks up even more his pace, slamming hard into her over and over again.
“Zuko.” Y/N moans his name “I’m close...”
He was also feeling himself getting closer as well. His hips slamming against her in a brutal rhythm “Cum for me, Y/N. Let go and let me feel you come around my cock.”
With a few more thrusts, she came. Feeling her walls tighten around him, Zuko’s entire body shudders. He thrust into her one last time before his cock pulsing as he cum deep inside her. His hand gripped her hips tightly as he releases his seed into her warmth. He pulled her back as he sits against the tree against, still inside her. Y/N was panting heavily, trying to catch her breath. Zuko’s breath was ragged as well. Slowly, he pulls out of her, his softening cock sliding out of her wet fold, and she smiles as she could feel his cum dripping for her.
Zuko smiles softly at her, running his hand gently down her sides. His erection had subsided, but he still wants her. Looking into her eyes, he leans and kisses her softly again, making her respond. He runs his hand through her hair, brushing away from her face “I’m not done with you yet.”
Y/N smirks “Oh, really?”
Zuko just grins back at her, his hands sliding down her back, cupping her ass cheeks. With a groan, he stands up, lifting her with him and walking over his tent, closing it behind them. He gently lowers her onto his bedroll and crawls on tip of her, their naked bodies pressing against each other. His lips find her in a deep and passionate kiss. His hands travel down her body, exploring her curves before he slips his finger into her wetness, rubbing circles around her entrance.
Y/N moans again, still sensitive from orgasm. Zuko smirks against her lips, his fingers slipping inside her, finding her entrance still slick with their combined fluids. He begins to slowly thrust in and out her.
“Zuko...” She moans his name, her back arching. He groans, loving the way she was responding to his touch. His thumb finds her clit and begins to rub circles around it while his fingers continue to thrust in and out of her.
“Zuko...” she says again “I’m close.”
Feeling her orgasm close, Zuko picks up the pace of his fingers thrusting deeper and faster inside of her. He continues to rub her clit, knowing it will send her over the edge. She was hit by her orgasm, leaving her legs trembling. He slowly pulled his fingers out of her, watching the last of his seed slide out with a pleased smirk.
Zuko leans down and capture her lips once again. His tongue danced with hers before he begins to trail kisses down her neck and chest. He gently nips at her nipple.
“Zuko...” Y/N was still trying to recover herself.
He just chuckles softly against her skin, his hands slipping down her hips, holding her close to him as he continues to kiss his way down her body. When he reaches her stomach, he stops and looks up at her, his eyes still full of desire.
“You just gave me an orgasm.”
That made him smirk “And I plan on giving you many more”. Zuko captures one of her nipples between his lips again, gently sucking, making Y/N closes her eyes with the feeling. As he continues, his free hand slip down to rub her clit once more.
“Zuko...”
Hearing her moan his name, Zuko push his finger inside her once again, pumping in and out of her, hitting her G-spot with every thrust. His lips move back to her neck and before she knew, she was tightening around his finger again, making Zuko increase his speed and pushing another finger as she cries out his name. He didn’t stop, as he keep thrusting her.
“Zuko, please, too much.” She cried out with her legs trembling, feeling her forth orgasm hit her that night.
Zuko hears her plea, yet he doesn’t stop. He increases the pace of his fingers, his thumb once again finding her clit and his lips on her neck marking her. In seconds she was hit with her last orgasm of the night. He slowly withdraws his fingers, licking them cleans while he looks at her.
“Damn!” Y/N says, trying to catch her breath, her whole body still trembling. “You ruined me.”
He chuckles “I’m glad you enjoyed.”
Zuko lay down by her side, pulling a blanket on top of them and cuddling closer to her, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her body against his chest. They both fell asleep after the exhaustive activities. The next morning, they were wake by voices outside.
“Why are these clothes here?” They could hear Aang asking. Zuko wakes up, rubbing his eyes.
“Zuko?” She whispered.
“Yes?” Zuko looks at her.
“That’s our clothes...” She says looking worried at him. He sits up, blushing slightly as he realizes they had forgotten their clothes outside. “Please, tell me you have something here for us to wear.”
He looks around the tent, noticing some spare clothes lying around “Yes, I think there’s something here you can wear.”
“Good. Just give me something and I’ll get our clothes.” Zuko hands her a robe that reached her mid-thigh. “Okay, that will do.” He also slips on a loose shirt and some pants.
They didn’t hear anyone outside talking anymore, so they assumed it was safe. Y/N opened the tent, but as soon as she left, she was meet with the whole gaang there.
“Why were you in Zuko’s tent?” Sokka asked looking at her “...and why are you wearing his clothes?”
Y/N blushes. She didn’t had time to answer when Zuko follows her out and blushes too seeing everyone gathered around. Sokka slowly realized what had happening.
“Oh, no worries, Aang. We already found the owner of the clothes.” Sokka says teasing them. Katara and Toph soon realized too what had happened, making Toph laughs.
Zuko clear his throat awkwardly, trying to his embarrassment “Uh, well, we were just.... resting. There’s nothing more to it.”
Aang had a confused face to everyone until he realized what had happened and looks shocked at Zuko and Y/N.
“Who would’ve guessed, you and hot head here...” Sokka smirks.
Zuko groans, rolling his eyes at Sokka’s teasing “It’s not like that, Sokka. We were just relaxing, okay? Jeez.”
“I bet it was quite relaxing.” Katara says pointing at the marks of Y/N’s neck, making her blush.
Zuko glares at Katara, his cheeks also flushing even more “I swear, if you keep making comments like that...”
Y/N had quicky got their clothes back and pulled Zuko with her to his tend “Not a word.” She says to them. He quickly follows her. Everyone outside laughed at their reaction. Needless to say, they would be teased by this for weeks.
#prince zuko#zuko#zuko smut#atla zuko#fire lord zuko#zuko x reader#zuko x y/n#zuko x you#atla#avatar the last airbender
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day 23, virginity loss
edward cullen x reader
warnings: nsfw 18+, unprotected sex, fingering, maybe ooc!edward, slight dirty talk, human!reader
kinktober ☠︎︎ main masterlist ☠︎︎ read on ao3
Edward Cullen was a man who pretended to have a strict moral code when it came to you, but the way he was ravishing you tonight was downright sinful.
Your wedding was nothing short of extravagant, of course. The Cullens spared no expense for your union. However, all you could think about was Edward ripping your dress off of you and taking you right there and then. By the way he gripped your side tightly the entire night, you could tell your wandering thoughts were getting to him.
Your lips quickly attached to the side of his neck as he drove to the airport and your fingertips trailed up his thigh. He grabbed your hand and nipped at your inner wrist, a silent warning to behave.
You were on your best behavior after that, only allowing your thoughts to veer off course once or twice, just to keep Edward on his toes.
Isle Esme was gorgeous, and you couldn’t wait to see it in the daylight. You were glad to finally be alone with Edward. As you approached the threshold of the front door, he swept you off your feet and a high-pitched squeal left you at his movements.
“Little warning next time?” you raised a brow as he carried into the main room of the villa. He spun you around, a grin gracing his features.
“I am nothing if not traditional,” he replied as he set you down. His hands lingered on your waist as you looked up at him.
You pursed your lips, “That’s for sure.”
He chuckled, before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss. His cool fingers traced a delicate path across your jawline, and you shuddered against his touch. Your heartbeat quickened in your chest, and you wondered if Edward’s thoughts were racing just as fast as yours were.
Your lips parted and his breath fanned across your cheek. He laced his fingers with yours and led you deeper into the house. It was luxurious and open, and you never wanted to leave.
Soft lighting bathed the master bedroom, and a sudden wave of nervousness overtook you. You’d been intimate before but never like this.
He pulled you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I promised you we’d try,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours.
You forced yourself to focus on his touch lingering on your hips and the ocean breeze drifting through the open double doors to the bedroom. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you formulated your plan in your mind.
“Think you can wait a bit longer while I change into something more comfortable,” you questioned, pulling yourself out of his embrace.
He grinned, “I’ve waited 104 years, a few more minutes isn’t going to kill me.”
You grabbed one of your smaller bags and brought it into the bathroom with you. You sifted through the various sets of lingerie Alice had meticulously packed for you, looking for something that wouldn’t be impossible to put on.
You settled on a lacy dark blue, but not navy, bralette and panties with little to no straps. Easy enough.
Once you had the lingerie settled onto your features, you took a moment to gaze at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t deny Alice’s taste when it came to anything you wore. The lingerie fit you like a glove and looked amazing. You looked amazing. You spritzed some perfume on yourself before exiting the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind you.
Edward turned to face you. He was still wearing the light blue button-up that he donned after the reception. The two buttons at the top were undone, which was definitely not because of you.
His eyes raked up your body, and you struck a pose, attempting to diffuse the tension in the air. He chuckled and the next thing you knew you were lifted into his arms. His hands cupped your ass and held you steady against him. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed him, deep and slow.
With every moment, your kisses grew deeper and more desperate. Edward laid you softly onto the plush mattress, his lips still attached to yours.
“You’re exquisite,” he breathed as he took in your features. He left featherlight kisses along your cheekbones before moving to your jawline and to your neck. His tongue grazed over the skin of your pulse point and you tangled your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly.
“Don’t go getting any ideas,” you teased.
“Trust me,” he assured, moving up to peck your lips, “the ideas I’m having do not involve taking your life.”
You slid a hand across his chest and began undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Thinking of taking something else?” you hummed against his lips.
“Yes,” he replied as his hands wandered down your abdomen and brushed against your clothed core. Your breath shuddered as he teased you through your underwear, stroking your clit before sliding down to dip a finger in your entrance.
A soft whine escaped you as he pressed sloppy kisses against your neck. You bucked your hips against his hand, desperate for more.
He hooked a finger through the waistband of your panties and with the flick of his wrist they were falling off of you. Your gasp was quickly swallowed by his lips against yours and his deft fingers sliding through your folds.
“So wet for me,” he praised as he circled your clit. He slowly inched a finger into your entrance, like he had multiple times before. He quickly added another finger and pumped it languidly within you, savoring the way you swallowed him whole and were begging for more.
“Fuck me,” you whimpered as you ground your hips against the palm of his hand. “Please, Edward.”
He removed his fingers and slipped them passed your lips, groaning as you eagerly swiped your tongue across the pads of his fingers. He fumbled for the buckle of his belt with his free hand and the smooth leather bumped against your inner thighs. You took the time to unclip your bra, allowing it to fall freely off your shoulders. You threw it elsewhere in the room, not caring where it landed.
You gripped the side of his pants and helped him shimmy out of his slacks. His lips were back on yours faster than you could process. You were still getting used to his super speed after all this time. You reached down to palm him through his briefs, and he moaned against your lips.
You looked up at him through your lashes as you slipped a hand past the waistband of his briefs and wrapped a hand around his cock. You pulled his length out of his briefs so you could freely stroke him. You slid your thumb over his pink-hued tip, which was the same color as his lips, spreading the precum that had begun to form.
He bit back a gasp, his teeth sinking into his soft lips. You wanted to hear him. You knew all of those pretty little noises he could make, why was he holding back from you?
“Please, Edward,” you begged, tugging him closer to you, “you promised.”
He settled his hips between your thighs, one hand roaming your body while the other slid his length through your dripping folds. You arched against his touch and rested your hands on his shoulders, his soft skin under your fingertips grounding you.
“I love you,” he murmured as he slowly pushed inside of you. A soft hiss escaped your lips as he inched inside of you. His eyes scanned your face, searching for the slightest inkling that you were uncomfortable.
Quickly, the slight pain of him inside you morphed into pleasure. You’d never felt so full— so deeply connected with Edward.
“You’re okay?” he asked, voice strained and pleading. Your hands shifted up to cradle his face, and you swiped a thumb over his cheek as you gave a quick nod.
You pulled him toward you and pressed your lips against his, “I’m okay.”
The plush skin of your thighs sunk under his grip as he started rocking into you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, leaving kisses and nipping at the skin there. Each and every one of Edward’s thrusts is purposeful and deep, almost as if he’s trying to mark you as his own. The thought turned you on, and you clenched around him.
He propped himself up on the headboard with one arm to let his eyes rake over your form. Your tits bounced with each roll of his hips against yours, and his grip tightened on the headboard. The wood cracked and then splintered under his palm, but you didn’t care. You were making him feel good, and pride swelled in your chest. His eyebrows were pinched, his expression a mix of pleasure and thinly veiled restraint.
“Don’t stop,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his hips and bringing him closer. “I can take it.”
He groaned against the crook of your neck as his thrusts quickened. The room was filled with the sounds of the squelching of your heat and the soft music Edward had put on while you got changed. His free hand trailed across your thigh and moved to draw quick, tight circles around your clit. A breathy moan left you, and the familiar heat pooled in your belly.
He left open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. His thrusts became short and sloppy as you neared your climax, your walls fluttering around him.
“You feel so good,” he breathed against your neck, “wanna feel you cum around me.”
You clenched around him in a vice grip as you came, a strangled cry and his name gracing your lips. You threw your head back into the pillow below you as your orgasm washed over you. Edward whined against you as he helped you ride out your high.
Edward’s hips faltered against your own and he quickly pulled out of you. He didn’t get very far, though, and his release coated your thighs. You whimpered as it ran down your thighs, warmer than you thought it’d be.
You panted, attempting to catch your breath. Edward leaned down and captured your lips in his. You reached up and ran a hand through his hair, pulling him closer.
“I love you too,” you finally whispered as you pulled away.
His lips curved into a smile, “Was it everything you imagined?”
“Better,” you replied, your mind racing with a thousand different scenarios. Edward met your eyes before groaning, a boyish smile gracing his features as he lay beside you.
#edward cullen x reader#edward cullen#the twilight saga#twilight saga#twilight#kinktober 2023#kinktober#twilight x reader#no y/n#reader insert#edward cullen smut
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Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 16
Eddie x Teacher!Reader
Chapter 16/? 9k. Series Masterlist
✏︎ Frustrated by inconclusive endings, Eddie takes a seat behind the wheel.
✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.
While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.
✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)
✏︎ Chapter CW: general angst, paternal angst, drug mention
Thursday, December 12th 1985
Before the first morning bell, Eddie gave Judy at reception his best impression of Wayne over the phone. He wasn’t totally lying, he was in fact, quite sick. Sick of all the taunting looks from meathead jocks. Sick of the way Ms. O’Donnell cleared her throat every five minutes. Sick of waking up so goddamn early. Sick of wasting his time. So after hanging up the phone, he stuffed a few essentials in his backpack and made for the door.
Like clockwork, Wayne always came home at around 8:10 AM, and though it would be far from the first time he’d skipped school, Eddie would rather not have to explain himself. Besides, he could use a change of scenery. There was no denying winter anymore, the ice he scraped off his windshield made sure to remind him. On a typical hooky day he would drive down to Lover’s Lake and toss open the rear doors, catch a breeze, light a joint, sit back and take in the ripples on the water and the rustling leaves. But that had all frozen over, so unless he intended to burn through his whole tank of gas, he would need to get creative.
That was how he found himself at Benny’s at 7:58 on a Thursday morning, setting up camp in a booth at the back of the restaurant. He ordered his usual — bacon, scrambled eggs, and a stack of pancakes in addition to white toast. Tossing his fourth emptied sugar packet beside the leaning tower of creamers, he sat back in the sticky, padded seat and took his first deep breath all morning.
The diner was bustling lowly, a handful of regulars perched on silver, spinning stools at the bar. From the frosted window leeching cool air beside him, he watched the funeral procession of headlights down Washington under a mournful sky. Just another day for the upright citizens of Hawkins, Indiana. From his cozy booth, Eddie sipped the top off his very full mug and smiled to himself.
Sprawling his belongings around the piping hot plates, he popped on his headphones, cracked open his monster manual, and got to work. The first hour flew by like his pencil across the graph paper. Between the bacon bits that had leapt from hand to page, a formidable lineup of foes was taking shape. Bottom line; the boys were in for a world of hurt tomorrow. He did his best to resign the grease to the flimsy napkins, but by the time he was finished, syrup tacked the gargoyle and gorgon pages together.
“Anything else I can grab for ya besides the check?” Sheri—according to her name tag—asked with a tired lean as she reached to clear his plates.
Eddie glanced down sheepishly at his freshly topped off mug. “I uh, think I might be staying for lunch.”
Sheri forced a hot pink smile, catching the fork with her decorated finger when it threatened to slide off the plate. “Y’ want me to get a room set up for you too?” she joked with a wink of her spidery lashes. “Just teasin’ sweetie. You just flag me down when you’re ready.”
Switching out his tapes, Eddie shut the cassette player and stared out the window as the men at the bar tossed their napkins and fished out their wallets. Snow was falling in lazy clumps, clinging to his windshield. Somewhere behind the overcast clouds, the sun was rising steadily. It was dismal, a fitting backdrop for the opening track of Black Sabbath’s Heaven and Hell. Of all the seasons, winter belonged to metal. Like it was made for cruising down a quiet, snow-covered street in the middle of nowhere. Made for drowning out Bing Crosby crooning from the speaker in the corner above him. Tinsel glittered on the small tree perched on a cloud of fake snow beside the cash register. Ornaments on swags swayed to the thump of footsteps passing. Eddie sighed and stared into the changing street lights.
Glancing at his watch he figured you were probably wrapping up the film with second period, knitting your brow and drawing your pen across the papers you were grading. He wondered what you’d think when the bell rang for fourth and you found his seat empty. Would you think he was upset with you? There was a small part of him that hoped so, and another part that hoped you would understand. After all, he was giving you the space you asked for, was he not?
Like a siren, your story—tucked between his notebook and the magazines he’d exhausted twice cover to cover—called to him. Cracking open the plastic spine, he dove headfirst into the typewritten pages.
For the whole narrow path into Rower’s End, Cybelle had sat in the front of the caravan, breathing the briny air unhindered by a barrier. Lazarus admired the brilliant fullness of her smile as she watched the seagulls soar overhead, under the clouds she had only ever seen from above. The sunlight had graced them then, beaming down in golden rays, glinting on the distant waves as they approached the sleepy seaside town.
Eddie could feel the corners of his mouth tug as Lazarus regaled Cybelle with a story of a time when he’d accidentally taken a crab home with him after spending a day at the beach, followed by an explanation of what a crab was. Cybelle seemed delighted with the prospect of seeing one, even more-so when he told her how he’d discovered the little hitchhiker when it pinched his rear in bed that night. Eddie noticed the way Cybelle leaned closer whenever Lazarus told stories, the way her hand came to shield her bare face with a giggle when he mentioned his rear. The way her delicate, copper fingers lingered over the soft skin of his forearm when she checked beneath his bandage. The wound was healing nicely — no sign of infection and not a thorn in sight. She warned that it might scar, but Lazarus did not appear concerned—rather the opposite actually—as if a strange part of him was pleased with the idea of having something to remember her by.
As they dipped over the final hill toward Rower’s End, Lazarus told her another story. A dream, rather, of a little cottage in Shantiglade with a full sized bed, and a garden, and a goose egg omelette big enough for two. A dream that would likely never come to pass. Cybelle seemed equally enchanted by it. Sitting back against the boxy, wooden seat of the caravan, she breathed in the salty air and imagined how good it would feel to do so every day. To experience the feeling of sand between her toes, of the ocean at her ankles, of propping her elbow against their shared kitchen table and gracing Lazarus with a naked smile before trying whatever an omelette was. It was good like this too — bumping along under a clear blue sky as Turnip plodded down the scarcely trodded path, watching the wind caress the wild grass and Lazarus’ even wilder curls, hearing his tales and his laughter.
Around the time he would be slumping into his desk in the back of your classroom, the bell dinged over the door of the restaurant. Eddie cranked the volume on his headset to drown out the chatter of a family of four clambering into the booth in front of him. The little boy had brought a pair of plastic drumsticks with him, beating a rhythm on the steel-rimmed table much to the annoyance of his little sister, who was clutching her book the way Eddie was yours. Dipping his few remaining fries into the smear of ketchup, he wondered why they weren’t in school on a Thursday afternoon. As he focused back on the type-written letters, he figured he should be the last to judge.
Eddie felt for Lazarus, he really did. The way he looked at Cybelle as she emerged from the cave, cradling the ghostfern like a pale, translucent child. The scene was as beautiful as it was somber — waves lapping at the rocky shoreline as the setting sun cast its deep orange hues on both of them. The rocks—slick with algae—had Cybelle stumbling, but Lazarus was quick to offer his arm. She accepted without hesitance, clutching the plant like a bouquet as her deep earthen fingers braced the pale angles of his. He lead her down the cascading stone as if it were a chapel aisle, slow and steady until they reached the flat edge of the water. There—in the golden remains of the day—seagulls dipped and soared over the glittering ocean, clasped hands swayed in the lapping wind, and for a moment, they had everything they came for.
After what seemed like both a small eternity and an aching second, it was Cybelle who broke away, tracing the ridges of his fingers as hers fell, stating out loud what both of them knew — that night was coming soon.
The journey back to Torgaard proved easier than the journey out, at least in terms of natural foes. No fenfinks or villainous vines, but the sky seemed to hang much lower. Dark, stormy clouds loomed overhead, casting its pale grey light over the moss curtains outside of Fenwood, over the verdant forests that shuddered in the gusting wind. There was a tension, a dread looming on the horizon that grew with each passing day. Even Eddie could sense it — the way Cybelle stared out into the swath of shifting green like she was attempting to soak up enough for the rest of her life. The way that Lazarus’ jokes were swallowed the creaking of the caravan. How nights that were once spent laughing over a roaring fire were now spent silently watching its crackling embers.
One day—just a few outside of Torgaard—the sky came crashing down. It sobbed in sheets, heavy enough to soak through Cybelle’s coat, to find the tear in her tent and make a lake of it. Lazarus ushered her inside the wagon, offered her a shirt that fit like a dress, offered to sleep on the floor. Assessing the size of the bed, and then the hard, narrow walking path, it was Cybelle who insisted they share it. She was small enough, or at least that was what she rationalized out loud. Lazarus did not argue. Her logic—unlike her tent—was water-tight. And so she climbed in between the soft linen sheets, tucked herself under the weight of the down blanket, and rested her damp, weary head on a pillow that smelled just like him.
Eddie glanced sheepishly around the restaurant, shielding the binder with his arm as Lazarus climbed in beside her. He hinged on each type-written word, lingering over the ones that stirred a fuzzy feeling. Written with careful attention to the way Lazarus’ chest rose and fell, how stiff their bodies were in hyper-awareness of the nearness to each other. How solid his shoulder felt under Cybelle’s cheek when the corner of pillow no longer sufficed. Slowly, they relaxed into the feeling. Not enough to sleep, but enough for Lazarus to free the arm that she was crushing. Enough to wrap it around her shoulder, to relish in the feeling of her cold nose in the warm crook of his neck.
It was good like this. Better when her fingers draped across the landscape of his pecks, felt his chest rise and fall like waves. Best when they awoke in the morning to the sun steaming in through the small, stained glass window above them. When their giggles shook the wagon. When their eyes met, closer than they’d ever been before. There, in the dim cocoon far outside the turning world, the smile that she had hidden for so long finally grew brave enough to capture his. And by the time they reached the towering stone walls of Torgaard, there was nothing more to hide from one another.
Eddie flipped the page to find only a black, plastic pocket. He rubbed it with his fingers to make sure it wasn’t sticking to another. When it failed to separate, he sat back and fumed. That was it. There was no more. No ending, no closure.
Sheri leaned against the top of the booth seat opposite him, hand on her hip, shifting between her dirty white sneakers with a tired sigh. “Listen sweetie, I’ve got ten minutes left of my shift. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, but I’ve gotta cash you out before I leave.”
Eddie glanced at his watch, almost 2:00. “Yeah—yeah, no problem. Sorry for the trouble.”
“’S no trouble, just the way it goes around here. Hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said with a wink as she dropped the check.
After six hours and two meals, Eddie had gotten his fill of watching the world turn through an old, frosted window. His head was spinning enough on its own. With a frustrated huff he peeled his graph paper and manual away from the sticky table before shoving them into his backpack. Slugging it over his shoulder, he grabbed the grease-stained check and made his way to the register. That was when he noticed it — the lonely, half-eaten omelette on the bar.
“Alright that’ll be ten seventy-five,” chimed Sheri.
Tinsel glittered on the tree. Red, metallic bulbs swayed in the echo of his footsteps. Judy Garland caroled on about a merry little Christmas and he wondered if your characters would ever enjoy anything over their shared kitchen table or if that dream would be abandoned for their duties as well.
“Sir?”
Snapping out of his trance, he fished for his wallet and palmed her a twenty. “Keep the change,” he muttered before turning toward the door with a hoist of his backpack.
Her jaw hung open. “Oh my word, are you serious?” she called to his back, but the bell above the door was the only answer she received.
______
Main Street Vinyls was a ghost town on a Thursday afternoon, and Eddie preferred it that way. Aside from Jerry at the counter, it was just him and his noisy thoughts, accompanied by the slow plod of his own heavy boots as they weeped against the carpet. At least in this store he could escape the onslaught of Christmas tunes. Jerry—old hippie that he was—at least had some sense. Sometimes even sense enough to play some halfway decent rock music, but today Eddie would settle for Neil Young over the jingle bell garbage blasting through every speaker in Hawkins.
Glancing down the rows of plastic cassette spines, Eddie perused the M section as he kicked himself for giving away almost ten dollars. There was an album by a new band he’d only read about in magazines called Megadeth. Turning the tape over in his hands, he examined the cover. Everything about it spoke to him — the skull with its mouth chained shut surrounded by knives and candles, the title — Killing Is My Business. Flipping it over to the back, the phrase continued in haunted red letters …and Business Is Good!
The change he gave away in a fit of blind stupidity would have easily afforded it and left him with some to spare. With a bitter sigh, he shoved the tape back in its slot, knowing for a fact that the cash register at Benny’s had eaten the last bill he had in his wallet. Padding slowly down the aisle, he began his calculations.
He had a few regular deals lined up this weekend but would need to dig into his “savings” in the bottom of an old tobacco tin and pay Rick a visit before any of that happened. He might make eighty bucks if he was lucky. Maybe eighty more over the course of the week between the deals at school. Nobody wanted to spend too much time outside this time of year, so the park bench location was always iffy depending on how bad it was. He would resort to other classic meetup spots, like under the bleachers or the back of his van.
If he networked enough he might have some left over after helping Wayne with the bills. Scanning past the Tina Turner and T-Rex tapes, he wondered how much Wayne suspected about his little business. Surely he had to have some suspicion. Gig money, odd jobs, and oil changes for neighbors couldn’t possibly afford the kind of gear he had, or the ink in his skin, or the cash he contributed monthly. Wayne was sharp, and though he was no saint himself, he shuddered to think what he would say if he discovered his nephew was straying down the same path his brother took.
Peering back over his shoulder, he eyed the Megadeth tapes again—only three in stock—lined up like gifts wrapped in cellophane. They were such tiny things. Small enough to hide beneath his palm, to slide into the pocket of his coat with room to spare. Glancing up at the angled surveillance mirror in the corner of the store, he saw Jerry at the counter, humming obliviously as he stuck price tags on a fresh shipment of tapes. Over the tall shelf that separated them, he expected to meet his own eyes, but instead saw another man. A man he hadn’t seen in quite a while.
Eddie remembered finding a G chord for the first time; how big the fretboard felt in his small hand, how awkwardly his fingers had to stretch, how a larger set of hands had helped him find it. He earned a broad smile when the chord rang out, one he would search for again and again with every strum.
Sometimes in the late evenings as he crept past Wayne with a lunchbox full of drugs while he was watching reruns of Bonanza on the couch, Eddie would tell himself that at least he wasn’t stealing cars, or drinking himself half to death, or rotting behind county bars. At least he was still in school, something Warren Munson couldn’t say even at sixteen. At least Eddie could say he was trying.
With a bitter shake of his head, he continued down the aisle, leaving the tapes behind for the record bins that lined the walls. Mindlessly he walked his fingers over the cardboard spines, glazing past titles he’d seen a dozen times. Nothing new. Nothing different. Few things ever were in Hawkins. Every day he’d wake up and slog himself to a different type of prison, sit in a classroom for eight hours and actively feel his brain rotting. He would crumple up his failed tests and shove them in his backpack, endure the stares from kids whose parents cared enough to give them a ride to school, day after day. And every day he would come home and see the twinge of pride on Wayne’s face for the fact that he’d gone at all.
There were a few perks to sticking around, like running his club, and saving lost sheep, and seeing his friends everyday. Like having a swath of potential customers all in one place. It was safe and familiar, like a cage. His little business might be dangerous and criminal but at least it could afford him one thing he valued even more than ink or gear — freedom. Time, for another thing. Flexibility. It sure as hell beat making three dollars an hour flipping burgers or having to answer to some corporate boot-licker telling him what to do. Eddie huffed sharply, wondering what you would think if you knew. You, with your tightly buttoned blouses and endless patience. You, the very last person he wanted to disappoint.
The last look he’d seen on you destroyed him when he thought about it; the pain in your eyes and bitter line your pretty lips became. You were just about the only reason he had left to show up to class anymore, and now that was getting in the way of the one thing that actually had potential in his eyes. Way more potential than a stupid piece of paper that says, congratulations, you’re a real member of society and not a complete disappointment.
You had asked him a question back when you’d first made the arrangement to help him, one that rattled around in his brain ever since. Why did he want to graduate? If his memory served him, he’d given a relatively bullshit answer: to prove all the assholes in this god-forsaken purgatory wrong. It still held a fair amount of truth, but when he glanced up at the surveillance mirror again and saw himself this time, the real answer was abundantly clear. But was proving a point worth the risk of losing you?
The smell of cardboard and cellophane kissed his face as air puffed between each record falling forward. Each a different picture, some repeats of the same. Rock gods wielding wicked weapons, bathed in holy stage lights somewhere in New York or Los Angeles probably. Somewhere important. Sometimes at the Hideout he would close his eyes and imagine he was on one of those stages, but when he would open them as the last note rung out, it was always the same — just Bill and Drunk Sam, maybe a couple of bikers perched at the bar with their backs to him. Empty stools and sticky tables. A weak applause.
Eddie stepped back from the record bin with a heavy sigh and glanced at his watch. He’d killed about thirty minutes in this store, which meant he had at least twenty more before he could return home without triggering Wayne’s suspicious questions. The walls were starting to close in around him — posters like windows into a world far out of reach. Every million dollar strum reverberating through the speakers like a mocking reminder. With a half-hearted wave to Jerry stocking shelves, he left the store. Empty handed.
The drive down Randolph was always dismal, especially in the bleak winter light. Storefronts with yellowing signs that hadn’t changed in twenty years selling mattresses and televisions. A gas station with a rusted awning, dusted with snow. Architecturally speaking, the church was about the most interesting building, but only because it was brick and made up of more than just four flimsy walls. Even that was being generous though. The most exciting thing to happen to Hawkins since the housing development over by Factory Lane thirty years ago was the shopping mall that opened this past summer. Thrilling.
No matter where he drove within a fifty mile radius, it was all the same — a tomb where dreams went to die.
Gripping the steering wheel, he watched the car in front of him make grooves in the dirty slush, hypnotized by the spray off the sides of the tires. It wasn’t until he saw the high school approaching in his peripherals that he even looked up. It always felt good to be on the other side, especially when he wasn’t supposed to be. He could almost see you in there; brushing the chalk off your hands, shifting between your tired feet as you glanced at the clock, gazing out the window with a longing he’d seen in his own reflection — caught sometimes at night in his drivers seat window as he cruised the highway, dreaming of where it could take him.
As the squat fortress faded in his rearview mirror, he pictured you five years from now. Ten. Twenty. Wasting away in front of that chalkboard. Rattling on about stories written by dead people while your own collected dust inside a closet. While your talent withered like the dead, crumpled leaves under the snow; buried and forgotten.
With a hard right onto Prospect, he set out on the final stretch towards home. Sometimes he liked to imagine what might happen if he just kept going, just drove into the sunset and only stopped for gas. He had a vague idea from the movies and the maps that swayed in the wake of Ms. O’Donnell’s lumbering footsteps. Sometimes in the height of his boredom he would lose himself in them, imagine he was at a diner in the desert on his way to a gig with an actual sound system. Because somewhere out there—beyond the flat horizon—there were mountains, and canyons, and cities where names couldn’t follow.
______
“How does it end?” Eddie asked you on Friday between the fourth and fifth period bells. You glanced up from the stack of papers on your desk, cocking your head with narrowing eyes. “Your story,” he clarified.
“Oh.” Blinking, you sat back to ponder. “You know, I don’t think I ever fully decided. Cybelle is in a difficult position. The whole reason she set out on this adventure was to save her brother. I imagine she would want to fulfill her quest, but if she returned to Myrne, it may be difficult to leave again. Plus, she may receive some sort of punishment for leaving in the first place. I had written the laws to be quite strict, if I recall. And then if she chose not to return, her mother would lose two children. No matter what, she loses.”
Eddie furrowed his brow, shifting between his boots with a pained sigh. “I would hardly call a life with Lazarus losing. She seems happy with him.”
“Right, well, of course that would be ideal, but…” you tsked, “it’s complicated, and honestly that’s partially why I abandoned it. I really wrote myself into a corner. Well, that and student teaching started to eat up my time. Then it was finals, and moving, and then after that I met…” you trailed off with a bitter shake of your head. “Anyway, I guess life got in the way. It has a way of doing that, I’ve noticed.”
Eddie looked at you, really looked. You, in your cable knit sweater with pen on your hand and sandbags under your eyes, casting them down over your work with the same amount of hope he’d seen from players rolling threes with even fewer hit points to spare. He racked his brain for something he could offer—a dramatic death speech or a new character sheet—but you weren’t playing and he wasn’t prepared. Any words of comfort forming on the tip of his tongue were swallowed by the ringing bell, and he exited your classroom feeling the same as when he entered; unsatisfied.
______
It was starting to close in around you — the colored lights and ornaments, the mall Santas and fake green swags draping from shop windows. It was the first Christmas you’d truly spent in Hawkins since you graduated college, outside of day trips for visits. Surprisingly little had changed, the main thing being the fact that there even was a mall for Santa to post up in. Duplication must have been one of his many powers because he was still at Sears too, at least he was on Saturday when you dragged yourself out of the oppressive quiet of your apartment and into the bustling chaos.
You had no idea what to get your relatives for Christmas. You never really did, but this year it seemed insurmountable. This year you had no one to bounce ideas off of, and the constant mental chatter left little to no room for inspiration. As you scanned the shelves of cookware and appliquéd dish towels with snow men and reindeers, nothing really seemed to jump out at you.
What did jump out at you—or rather, jumped out at his sister—was a little boy across the aisle hiding in a circular rack of women’s bath robes. Pressing apart the terrycloth like curtains, he would retreat into his makeshift cave to the complete oblivion of his mother, who seemed more preoccupied with the price tags on a set of lingerie than with the whereabouts of her children.
A fantasy tugged at the corners of your mind, more sinfully indulgent than the one you had in class last week involving your desk and Eddie’s tongue. This time the set was the same as the scene before you, only the little boy had a mess of dark curls and Eddie was diving in after him. Not to scold him, but to play. You could almost see those fraying knee holes widening from contact with the carpet. Almost hear the giggles and the shushes and the click of his rings against the metal pole in the center of the rack for balance. You could almost turn around and see them popping out at you, feel the laughter ripple up through your very full belly and into the corners of your eyes as you feigned surprise to both of their delight. You could almost feel the glares from the other shoppers, the regular people eager to get on with their Saturday in peace, same as any other. It wouldn’t matter though, not in your little world.
The real mother in the real world did eventually turn around, grabbing the boy by the wrist and demanding he stay by the cart. Turning a dish towel over in your palms, you lowered your eyes to the machine-embroidered stitching of a corn cob pipe and a button nose as the fantasy disintegrated. You left the store shortly after, your cart just as empty as when you’d arrived.
On Monday it was hard to look him in the eyes. It was easier to meet Diane’s. At least this week you could hold a conversation without crumbling like Ms. Click’s half-eaten fruitcake up for grabs in the teachers lounge. But the coffee was bitter on your tongue, like a lie you were telling yourself.
In accordance with your wishes, there had been no rap of knuckles on your door frame after school, no screeching of chair legs dragged across the tile, only the dull thud of folders sliding into your bag, the surprising click of a magnet under the flap.
On Wednesday you left behind footprints in the parking lot before it had even half cleared, only to be swallowed by the emptiness of your apartment. You filled the space with what you could manage — an early dinner, and an early bedtime. Sleep seemed to be the only thing that quelled the battering ram thoughts, the scales tipping back and forth so much it made you queasy. You would lie there and dream of swirling smoke and plush lips, of arthritic fingers punching numbers on an office phone as you sat and accepted your fate. You would toss and turn, back and forth until your sheets became a tangle, and when you faced the mirror Thursday morning you barely recognized the person staring back.
When the final bell rang on Friday, the hallways cleared out like someone had yelled fire. A mass exodus of students and staff, flowing into the parking lot like a tidal wave outside your classroom window. You watched them as snow fell in clumps, as bright colored backpacks disappeared into the back of sedans, as cars peeled out like a parade into the street.
Assessing the paper mountain range framing your desk, you made an educated guess at how you would be spending your two week break. In hindsight, it might have helped to make the due date for the senior creative writing project last Friday instead, but deep down you knew you would have hardly made a dent by now.
When Ms. Click popped her head in to wish you a merry Christmas on her way down the hall, she seemed surprised to find your hand still moving across paper, not swaddled in mittens like hers. You brushed it off with something casual, the type of thing any regular person would say before the holidays. That it was too much to take home. That getting work finished now would leave more time with your family. You omitted the more personal details like how empty your apartment felt and the small, naked tree your mother brought over last weekend. This seemed to placate her, and with a cheery wave she left you in the silence of your classroom with only the ruffling of paper for company.
It was eery how quiet it was, but it afforded you a small hill of graded papers in the last hour, double what you would typically accomplish in front of the television. Thumbing through what remained of that stack, you counted each staple. Five, six, seven… you stopped when a certain name jumped out in MLA format.
Eddie Munson
American Literature — 4th Period
20 December 1985
No title.
Papers fluttered to the desk as they fell from your hands, leaving only his. You held it gingerly between your fingers, as if it was alive. As if it could feel you, or rather, you could feel him through every type-written letter, through the thumb-sized grease stain in the top righthand corner. You could almost hear him too, shifting into a deep, dramatic narration.
Mount Myrne loomed on the horizon like a dark omen. Towering over the bustling docks of Torgaard, it disappeared beneath the ominous clouds with a formidable presence. Merchants scattered about, hauling their wares in heavy crates and barrels onto the many zeppelins.
This was where Lazarus first met Cybelle. In his mind’s eye he could almost see her stumbling about in her clean silk boots and glimmering gold coat. But her appearance today told a different tale. Her boots were caked with mud, her coat was splattered with muck and tattered by claws, her mask hung crooked on her face. Those large eyes that once glimmered with hope and wonder now stared off into the distance with oppressive sadness at the looming mountain.
This was where he was supposed to leave her. This was what they had agreed upon many moons ago. Cybelle just stood there, shifting back and forth between her tired feet as she dug her thumbs under the straps of her heavy knapsack that now held the rare and precious ghostfern. She finally had what she came for. Any moment now she would be moving those muddy boots toward the docks and use what little coin she had to barter a one-way trip back home.
That was the plan anyway..
Cybelle was frozen though. Fearfully, woefully, bitterly, she gazed upon her gold gleaming home in the sky with a sadness that was only dwarfed by Lazarus looking down at her. He looked at her beautiful face like it was the last time he was ever going to get the chance to. He memorized it in his mind as he shuffled his own dirty boots against the cobblestone. He didn’t have eyes for anything else. Not the zeppelins, nor the merchants, nor the mountain. Only her. After a moment that felt like an eon, Cybelle took a step forward.
“Wait.” said Lazarus. Cybelle turned around with surprise but also a hint of relief. “You don’t have to do this.”
Cybelle looked up at him with a mournful frown. “Of course I do, my brother will die if I stay here.”
Lazarus shook his head bitterly. “No, he will die if the ghostfern stays here.” he said.
Cybelle sighed as she looked out across the docks, “But how is it going to get there if I do not deliver it? No one is allowed within the city walls if they are not from Myrne.”
Lazarus furrowed his brow as he watched the merchants at work, hauling their wares aboard the large, formidable aircrafts. Suddenly he had an idea. “There are docks in Myrne, correct? And Myrnish merchants who take goods into the city?”
The gears were starting to turn in Cybelle’s head. “Yes, there are.”
“Well then, can we send the plant with like, a note or something? Some instructions and directions for the merchant to take where it needs to go?”
Cybelle thought for a moment. “I do know a few of the merchants by name. Arturo and I grew up together. He was my neighbor for a long time. He would know where it needs to go, and my mother would know what to do with it.” The brightness in Cybelle’s eyes dimmed suddenly as she had another thought. “But… I would never seen them again. My family.”
“Never say never, Cybelle.” Lazarus said. “Do you know that for a fact?”
Cybelle frowned heavily, “The laws in Myrne are very strict.”
“What if in the letter you told your family to meet you on the docks some other time? Perhaps in another moon or two once your brother has recovered?” Lazarus offered.
Cybelle sighed bitterly, “Only merchants are allowed on the docks. It is strictly prohibited. I was only able to come here because I snuck inside a crate. It was a miracle that they didn’t notice me.”
Lazarus kicked a stray pebble and huffed. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I cannot tell you what to do, Cybelle. Only you can make that choice. But what I can do, really the only thing I can do, is tell you how I feel.”
All of a sudden there was a knot in his stomach. Because if he was going to say anything he knew that this would be his last chance..
“All my life I’ve dreamed about that cottage by the sea with the garden, and the bed, and the omlet. When I saw that pendant you were wearing I knew that it would be my only shot at ever getting what I wanted. Magic tricks are….. not exactly lucrative. And actually, if I’m going to be totally honest here, I figure you should know the truth about me. The whole truth.” Lazarus sighed, swallowing the bile creeping up his throat at the mention of the truth. He was going to be honest though. Maybe for once in his whole life. “This is difficult for me to say, but I owe it to you if nothing else. I’m a thief, Cybelle.”
Lazarus winced at his own words and Cybelle’s fallen expression, but he bravely continued..
“I confess that for a moment when I first saw you I thought about stealing that pendant, but once I heard your story and saw so much of my own I simply couldn’t. There is a goodness in you that I admire, how selfless and pure your cause is. Over the course of the last few moons I have had the privilege of spending with you, I have come to discover how beautiful the woman beneath the mask truly is. How kind, and curious, and patient you are. I have been all over this land. Traveled far and wide, through forests and over mountains. I have swam in lakes and oceans and gazed out over countless valleys. But never has the world looked quite so hopeful than when I saw it through your eyes. It made me believe that if you could see the beauty there, if you could see the goodness in me, then perhaps I can as well.”
It was startling — the tear that leapt over your lash line. Violently enough to hit the page, to blur the Os in goodness.
“If you choose to stay I promise you that I will never steal another coin or pocket watch. It may leave me poor for the rest of my days but if they’re spent with you, then I would be the richest man of all. It is all that I can offer you. My honesty, and a promise that I will show you more beaches, more mountains, more of the world than you could ever imagine. And since I intend to keep my promise, here is my honesty: I love you. Regardless of what you decide.”
With a trembling hand, you turned the page only to discover there was nothing on the back. Sitting back in your seat with a ragged sigh, you stared out into your empty classroom. Your nose stung, fluorescents flaring in your tear-blurred vision. Separating the pages with your thumb, you flipped back and read it again. The last paragraph. The last two sentences. Those three type-written words. Over and over, wedging in the cracks of your armor as your sniffles echoed off the tile.
The sun was dipping below the treeline, flooding the near-empty parking lot with a wash of somber pink. The snowfall had ceased, settled into the footprints and tire tracks. Glancing up at the clock and back down at the papers, you tried to imagine lifting another, scanning over sentences and writing in the margins like you hadn’t been completely upended by the one that trembled in your grasp. You couldn’t.
Tears dripped down your cheeks as you donned your coat, as you shuffled overstuffed folders into your satchel and slung its weight over your shoulder. You swiped at them with your scratchy wool sleeve, flicking off the lights and shutting the door.
The soft pink had cooled to twilight blue when your boots met the blanket of snow, leaving tracks in the clean, fresh powder. Your breath trailed behind you in heavy clouds. It was quiet here too, barely a scattering of cars in the parking lot. Not even the wind disturbed the limbs of the orderly saplings between the curb and sidewalk, dusted with a glittering powder.
Your hands found your keys, and the key found the hole, and soon you were sliding into your frigid leather seat, tossing the weight of your satchel on the passenger’s side with a dejected thump. You sat there a moment with only your breath for company before flicking your wrist at the ignition.
Nothing.
Stomping on the break, you lurched forward with conviction this time, as if you could convince it you were serious. All it awarded you was a weak, persistent click. It’s fine, you told yourself through gritted teeth as you lunged again, snapping your wrist with a startling anger, like the seal had been cracked on a two liter pop bottle that had rolled around in the trunk for a week and a half. Still, nothing but a pathetic click. A split second thought crossed your mind—that the ferocity of your stomp might actually damage the car—but the logic was quickly snuffed out by your rage. The hard plastic key bit into your numb fingers. Over and over — stomping, twisting, cursing. Cursing yourself most of all for being stupid enough to let this continue for months. You were paying for it now.
The tears were already waiting, primed behind your eyeballs, hardly dried on your cheeks when you left out the back door. They spilled over again, cooling as they dripped past your lashes, down the slope of your nose. One more time, you begged. Just one more time and I’ll be good, I swear. But the white Chevy Nova sat unmoved, offering only a vacant whine where there should have been a roar. You tossed back in your seat and huffed, chest heaving, filling the cramped space with the furious steam of your breath.
Snowflakes glittered in the floodlights, shining like flares through the blur of your tears. It might have been beautiful on any other evening — one where the engine was warm, and your mind was clear, and your heart didn’t sink like a pit in your chest. It was hard to notice anything outside your bitter sobs, most especially the shadow that appeared in the window beside you. The rap of rings on the glass had you jumping, whipping your head to face the set of eyes you’d been avoiding most of all.
“Need some help?” Eddie offered, bracing his knees in a crouch, eyes brimming with concern.
Your stomach twisted with relief, then embarrassment, then a million other things rolled into one, sick knot. Wiping the evidence from your cheeks with a futile swipe of your sleeve, you cranked down the window with your left hand. You must have looked like an absolute basket case, jerking your arm in tight circles as the barrier lowered with the urgency of a tortoise. When where was enough space for him, Eddie braced against the top of your door and ducked his head inside.
“Hey.” The warm sigh of his greeting kissed your cheek, thawing the sting of the cold.
“Hey,” you mimicked, sounding just about as stable as you felt when it came out. “W-what are you doing here so late?”
“Hellfire,” he stated simply. “You know, I could ask you the same question.”
Despite how true it was, it still felt pathetic when the answer left your lips. “Just… trying not to take so much work home with me.” You said it as casually as you could muster, but your voice betrayed you. Your cheeks were still cooling from the remnants of your tears, framing the heat from your dripping nose.
Eddie suddenly looked very serious, splintering your armor with his softness. “You ok?”
You gestured dejectedly at nothing, offering a hollow laugh. “No.”
Eddie filled the cabin with his sigh, eyes narrowing like he wanted to lunge through the window. Instead he just thumbed at the rubber and tipped his head closer, creaking your chest plate with the weight of his gaze. “You know, I could hear you clear across the parking lot,” he joked softly. “The car—I mean. Mostly. You leave your lights on or something?”
You shook your head. “It’s been doing this for months, ever since it started getting cold. I should have taken it to get checked out, but it usually starts after a couple tries.”
“Sounds like it might be the battery, or maybe the starter. I won’t know unless I try and jump it. I’ll swing around—if—if that’s ok.”
The wind ushered a curl toward his lips, and you clenched your hand to subdue it. “Yeah, it’s ok,” you sighed. “Thank you.”
With a nod, Eddie ducked out of the window and pivoted swiftly on his heels. From your side view mirror, you watched him make tracks in the blue snow with his heavy boots, hands shoved in his pockets as he glanced left and right, the ghost of his breath trailing closely behind. The seat creaked as you sat back and blinked like the cursor on a computer monitor; processing. One glance in your rearview mirror told you how disheveled you looked. Even in the twilight there was no masking the puffiness around your eyes, the mascara bleeding toward your cheeks. You swiped at them again, this time with a napkin from your glove box.
With a yank of the frigid handle, Eddie slid across the plaid and pleather padding into the drivers seat of his van. He froze for a second, glancing in his rearview mirror toward your small white sedan. Butterflies tore through his stomach, churning like a tornado as he flicked the ignition. Out of all his ridiculous fantasies, he hadn’t entertained this one. Not exactly anyway. One where you were the damsel in distress. One where he got to be the hero.
The parking lot was vacant enough to drive across the lines. Ploughing through the naked patches where cars had spent the afternoon, he rumbled up beside you. Your stomach did a summersault when he stepped out, plodding around to the front of your car with jumper cables slung under his arm.
“Can you pop the hood for me?” he asked.
The summersault rippled south through your abdomen. Reaching down under the console, your fingers found the leaver and obeyed. You felt kind of useless, just sitting there while he propped the hood onto the stand, shielding him from vision. Before you could form another thought, your hand was moving on its own, finding the plastic leaver of your door and opening it to the cold evening air.
Eddie gave a shy look from behind his curtain of curls before stepping back with a nod. “Well, good news, there’s no monsters,” he joked.
A smile cracked across your face, so genuine it almost felt foreign. You tucked your hands into your pockets, stepping closer to assess the engine like you knew what you were looking at. Your aura prickled with proximity, like his heat could thaw you even from where you stood. Eddie’s glance was soft and quick before procuring a small flashlight from his inner coat pocket. He held it in his teeth, flipping up the red and black plastic covers on the battery terminals.
“I have hands too, you know,” you said with a smirk.
With a playful side-eye, he clamped the appropriate cables onto the terminals. Removing the silver torch from his mouth, he made room for his retort. “Mmhm, best keep ‘em warm. It’s uh, kinda chilly out.”
You shook your head as a laugh escaped your nostrils in a plume. Sauntering over to his van like a dark knight, Eddie leaned in the door to pop his own hood. Your boots made tentative tracks in the snow, drawn like a magnet as he hoisted the metal. From the light pinched in his teeth you could see the expanse of the massive engine, the shadow of his furrowed brow as he unscrewed plastic knobs. What you saw more than anything though—like a filter laid over the scene—were three type-written letters. The hands that typed them fumbled with the cables, squeezed around the thick, jaw-like clamps. When they bit right where he wanted, they released; tendons flexing, knuckles pinking from the freezing air. Reflexively, he wiped them on the chest of his black hoodie peeking out from his open coat.
It might have just been the cold, but even in the twilight—in the absence of the flashlight he was tucking into his pocket—you could have sworn his cheeks flushed when he caught you staring. “Alright, um, go ahead and start your car. I’ll do the same.”
Following the tether that joined the two vehicles, you did as he told you. Nothing came of it though, just more incessant clicking. Exasperated, you tossed back in your seat before slumping out of the car once more.
“Shit, it must be the starter. Probably cracked, that’s my guess anyway by the sound of it,” Eddie explained as he stepped around to face your engine again. Clicking his flashlight, he peered into the compartment. “See, if you follow the positive terminal line all the way down, that’s where the starter will be. Only problem is it’s tricky to get to without a lift.”
You followed his grease-stained finger down the dirt-dusted tangle of tubes, drawing nearer under the subtle guise of interest in your engine. You stopped just inches from his solid leather frame, close enough to brush him with your elbow. “You seem to know your way around a car.”
He huffed, shaking his head as he muttered. “Wish I didn’t.” But before you could comment, he was shutting the hood. “I’m sorry, but I think we’re gonna have to call a tow truck.”
Your defeated sigh rose toward the clouds as you glanced at the squat school building. The lights were off. Judy’s car was absent from the lot, as were all but a handful, including the two of yours. Glancing at your watch under the floodlights, the big hand tipped past the golden dot where a five should be.
Eddie stepped closer, filling the gap with a heavy exhale before meeting your eyes. “You know I could, um—” he scratched the back of his neck, words evaporating quicker than his breath. What could he do? What could he really do about any of this? For most of his life he’d been a leaf on the wind, scuttling across the pavement toward the gutter, struggling to steer himself away. But you were stranded, and if there was anything he was good for, it was a ride. “I could—I could take you back to your place. If you’re ok with that, I mean. We could—fuck—I mean you could call from there a-and I could—”
There were chinks in your armor, cracking with each bumbling word. You looked at him, really looked. Eddie Munson, with grease-stained hands and eyes that pierced like arrows in their pleading. Straight through to the softest part of you, the place between your ribs that cries I want. And oh, how desperately you wanted. Wanted to soothe his worried lips in yours again, to feel his pounding chest again, to be thawed by his heat again. But you just stood there, frozen.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his open coat, he shifted on the balls of his feet as he searched for more words in the snow. “Look, I know you said you wanted space, a-and it probably seems like—shit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, releasing with a sharp sigh. “I just want to help you. Will you just let me help you? Please?”
Your chest plate clattered to the concrete, gauntlets falling in a heap beside your greaves. There was no white flag to wave. No sword to relinquish, or shield to discard. Your surrender was nothing but a soft “okay,” barely heard above the howling wind.
______
A/N: After over a year and 100k words, the smut chapter is finally upon us! Thank you for coming with me on this very long journey and sticking it out. I have no idea how long this next one is going to take me to write, but I can promise you that when it’s finished you will experience every moment in exquisite, delicious, poetic detail.
You might have noticed that I’ve pulled a few small details like character names and places from Flight of Icarus, but I will not be retconning any of Eddie’s backstory.
Also random, tumblr decided to make that one paragraph bold once I changed it to chat font with no ability to unbold it, but that wasn't intended. It kind of worked though so I'm not mad.
Taglist: @mermaidsandcats29 @toxicjayhoo @ooo-protean-ooo @jadequeen88 @wroteclassicaly @kissmyacdc @raccoonboywrites @storiesbyrhi @trashmouth-richie @keeponquinning @munson-blurbs @blueywrites @alottanothing @bebe07011 @idkidknemore @alizztor @godcreatoreli @ethereal27cereal @munsonsgirl71 @mrsjellymunson @emxxblog @siriusmuggle @sidthedollface2 @dollalicia @lma1986 @catherinnn @eddiemunson4life420 @readsalot73 @big-ope-vibes @barbiedragon @ladylilylost @3rriberri @princess-eddie @nightless @eddieswifu @thew0rldsastage @chaoticgood-munson @hanahkatexo @eddiemunsonsbedroom @beep-beep-sherlock @averagemisfit03 @vintagehellfire @haylaansmi @sllooney @lunaladybug734 @callingmrsbarnes @ajkamins
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson older reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x teacher!reader#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson angst#don't stand so close to me#dssctm
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SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 02
summary; after an awkward breakfast and some clarification, you and azriel take the next step in your agreement.
word count; 8091
notes; y'all I hope you love this, it's pretty much just 8,000 words of pure fluff, it's adorable. I love this series so much.
When the sunlight first hit your eyes, you groaned, twisting your face to bury deeper into the pillow. It wasn’t usually the direction that sunlight came in through your dingy window, warmth cascading across the wrong side of your face, and you dragged your hand up to cover it.
Some day, you’d be able to afford curtains to properly block it out. That little indulgence just surged up a few places on your mental list. Before your hands reached your face, however, cool darkness blocked it out, your hand skimming across the mattress lazily, and one eye cracking open.
Before you, like a swirling mass of darkness, was a tendril of shadow. Twisting slowly in the morning light, dancing between golden sun-rays and blocking it from your field of you. Your body jerked, a slight shriek falling from your lips as you scrambled back across the bed, bracing yourself to fall over the edge and hit the floor.
You never did. The plush mattress seemed to stretch on and on, your body aching and protesting the sudden movements from where you’d still been on the cusp of sleep.
The shadow looked almost amused, dancing along the streams of light and closer to you, meeting the mattress and slithering its way across the comforter towards you. At the first cold brush of it across your knuckles, the fog cleared, and your memories all seemed to come flooding back. It was some kind of blur, sweet smiles and towering wings and the taste of berries and warm spices like a memory across your tastebuds.
Hauling your legs up to your chest, you bent forward, until your forehead could press to your knees, and took several deep, shuddering breaths. Your toes curled in the bedding, still warm, the smell of mist and fresh earth lingering around the room, like the smell of the air after it rained, calming and soothing and cool. When you finally lifted your head again, you could take it all in.
There, still sitting atop the chest of drawers was your dress, folded neatly just as you’d left it. The tray of tea and cookies had been cleared from the stool at the end of the bed, but the plush cushioning still held a slight imprint of where it had sat all night.
The shadow was back, splitting into two and whirling around each side of your face, the touch of them light like a ghost, smoothing over your skin like a feather, and your lips twitched a little at the edges.
“You scared me, y’know.” The spiral they made around your fingers when you lifted a hand was like a silent snicker, and you watched them form ever-changing patterns across the surface of your skin, playful and sweet. “I’m not used to waking up and finding the shadows moving.”
The windows were shut, no gust filtered through the room, but the shadows in the room all seemed to sway once, like a breeze through curtains, shimmying back into place, and a gasp held in your throat.
“Am I supposed to leave now?” Your heart clenched a little at the thought, and though Azriel was nowhere to be seen now, you knew he must be somewhere, he wouldn't have just left you here in his bed. The shadows banded around your wrist, the darkness in the room seeming to pulse for a moment, and your brow inched up. “No? Am I supposed to stay?”
The flicker of shadows seemed like a far more empathetic yes, and your smile stretched more.
“Well, then, where is your master?” If you didn’t know any better, you’d have sworn the shadows bristled at that, a sense deep within you telling you that they’d give a disgruntled huff if capable, and your chuckle blew them like powder on the wind. Detangling from our arm, they blew across the air, before reforming from mist and hovering in a swirling column near the bedroom door.
The carpet was plush underneath your toes as you stood, stretching your arms high above your head, feeling your joints ease happily into the day after sleep on such a comfortable mattress, nothing like your own. One step after another, you seemed to inch silently across the house, no creaking or cracked floorboards, and the door clicked softly out of place as you twisted the knob open.
The shadow moved, darting away from you like a flash of black, and you glanced around the corridor, tracking each direction. Nothing seemed to give away where you should go, the maze of corridors and doorways looming along each direction was dizzying, and you wished you’d paid at least a little attention last night when Azriel had guided you through the house, instead of staring at his back muscles and blushing. That same blush played on your cheeks now as you thought about it.
Hovering at the end of the hall to your right was the shadow, bobbing almost impatiently in the air, it's twirling like a ballerina’s ribbon increasing in speed as it hurried you along, and your footsteps were rushed as you chased after it before it disappeared again. By the time you reached the end of the hall, though, it was gone, and you peered around the corner just to be met with more halls.
Hovering by an open-arch doorway, your guide traced the patterns on the wood, playing in each dip and rivulet, and the rest of the shadows along the hall fluttered towards it, encouraging you to keep going. As you neared, the smell of bacon hit your nose, warm and salty and enough to make your stomach grumble, and you licked across dry lips at the thought of it. That same shadow darted down, smacking across your forehead lightly and bouncing off, spinning through the air toward a set of stairs at the end of this room.
You followed them down, down, down, until the carpet gave way to cold wooden floorboards, and more shadows seemed to slither along the bottom floor of the house, like lazy puddles that barely dared to shift or glance up as you passed by.
The first few you tried to avoid, hopping around and past them, before it was impossible, and you were stumbling through clouds of darkness that merely shifted around your ankles, reforming on the other side, entirely unaffected by your presence.
At last, you found the kitchen, a room you knew, following the shadow, and the faint humming of a deep voice, accompanied by the popping of oil in a pan. Standing before the stove, miles of tan skin and dark leathery wings on display, Azriel stood before the stove, shirtless as he cooked, and leaving the few pale scars across his back exposed to you to observe. They were nothing like the ones on his hands, the uncontrolled and swirling flesh he’d been branded with. These were precise and clean, nicks from blades and arrows, even a few slightly puckered that seemed to mark the lashings of a whip, almost faded into the depth of golden skin now.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” A deep voice uttered, even more so than it had been the night before, and you felt the slight tremble of your legs with the rasp of it. Throaty and thick, his morning voice still hadn't cleared, and you wondered once again how this man could possibly be single, could need to resort to making a deal with you; the absurd deal he likely regretted once the sun had risen.
“Good morning.” You mumbled, watching as he turned, a wide smile on his face as he put out the flame on the stove, the sizzling of the bacon slowing without heat. When he moved, you could see the contents of the pan then, your mouth watering. Not just bacon, but sausages too, and eggs. He stepped toward you, revealing more of the counter, a plate of toast and butter, ready to go.
“You hungry?” He teased, shifting to grab for the kettle, and pouring some tea into an empty mug, before adding a dollop of honey into it. Making his way over to you, you could only nod, watching all the stacked, towering muscle of him closing in on you, until your back was pressed to the doorframe, head tipped back to look up at him. The teasing grin faded to a smile as he pressed the warm porcelain into your hands. “I cooked for you.”
“Very kind of you.” Your whisper was shared in the space between you both, and he raised a hand to tuck some stray hair behind your ears, before stepping back. His eyes flickered across every inch of your face, observing, analysing, and you hoped what he saw was what he wanted.
“You feelin’ okay? How’d you sleep?” The words were thrown over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen island, tugging out a stool and tapping it, a silent order to take a seat. Your feet were moving before your brain had even caught up, sinking down onto the tall stool and bracing your elbows on the counter, still clutching the mug.
“I slept better than I have in a long time. Maybe ever. You have a very comfortable mattress.” Words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, words that made you feel like an idiot, a fool— until he laughed, a soft chuckle under his breath, eyes sparkling as he turned to face you.
He passed over a plate, piled high with more food than you could possibly eat, before his own followed to the seat opposite you, and he sunk onto it. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Cutting into the meat on your plate, you could only offer a smile in response, choking back your embarrassment to cater to the hunger growling within you, and focus on your food.
Several moments passed in silence, nothing but the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, the scraping of cutlery on the plates, and the occasional rustle to break the tension. Eventually, it was all too much.
“We should probably talk about… it.”
“By ‘it’, do you mean our deal?” Azriel grinned, smirking a little as he popped another forkful of toast and egg into his mouth, chewing and staring at you, like you were supposed to start this conversation. Putting down your knife and fork, you crossed your arms over the marble countertop in front of you, settling the nerves quelling in your stomach that was almost making you nauseous.
“Look, Azriel. I really appreciate everything. Seriously, I can’t tell you how much it all means to me. You’ve been like some kind of guardian angel, sent to me when I needed you most, before I forced myself to do something I’d never be able to forgive myself for.” The smile slipped from his lips slowly, a more serious look taking over his face, and you rolled back your shoulders, willing yourself to be strong, and taking a deep breath. “However, I’m not the sort of person to take advantage of you, of any of it. So, I’m giving you an out. I know how bargains work in this court now, so surely I can give you a way to undo it.”
He stared for a second, chewing his mouthful slowly, and his gaze upon you seemed to narrow as he swallowed. Then, he took a sip of his tea, still staring at you across the rim of his mug, and your whole body felt electrified. Reaching up, you rubbed slowly across the back of your neck, feeling nothing of the mark that had formed there last night, and making a mental note to look for it later. “I don’t accept.”
“What?”
“I do not accept your out. I don’t want it.”
“You— You have to!” You burst, and he only shrugged, cutting off another piece of toast and dragging it across the juices on the plate, before stuffing it into his mouth.
“Well, I’m not.” He spoke around his food, and you stared at him helplessly. “Now, eat up. I know you’re hungry, and I can make more if you still want something else after.”
“Azriel,” You started, and he stared pointedly at your food, like this conversation wasn’t going any further until he saw you eat. You’d barely started your meal, and he was halfway through his. With a grunt, you cut off a large chunk of sausage and bacon, shoving it into your mouth less than gracefully, and wiping at the droplet of grease that was making its way down your chin. He only grinned at you.
“I’m not accepting your out, because I don’t regret making that deal. Not even a little bit. I will give you an out of our deal, but only after you let me talk. Will you?” You were still chewing, slightly regretting your passive-aggressive portion, because you could only nod in response. “I don’t regret our deal, because when I woke up this morning, I was happier than I have been in a long, long time. That’s because of you. Do you know what I woke up to this morning?”
You could still only shake your head, wincing as you tried to choke down the mouthful with at least a little decorum.
“I woke up to the sound of your heartbeat. You were lying in my bed, one hand still around me, and my head was on your chest. I lay there for a good fifteen minutes just listening, and feeling, and loving it. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been alone for?” A shot of pain sliced through your chest, aiming straight for your heart and hitting its mark, your gaze softening as you looked at him. “I have not woken up in somebody’s arms like that before. I’ve— nobody ever stays the night. I don’t let them, and they don’t want to. They take what they want, and they go. By the morning, it’s cold and empty all over again. This time, I fell asleep in your arms, and I woke up to you.”
“Az…” Your voice was hoarse, and you ran a hand down the side of your face, stopping to rest trembling fingers over your lips gently, trying to process.
“I’ve never slept so well either. But, it’s not just about that. Do you have any idea how nice this is? To cook for someone, and get to talk, and know someone else is here? I want this. I want it all.”
“But it would be so unfair to you.” Your words shook, and you reached out, taking one of his hands gently in your own, and smoothing your thumbs across the marred flesh, staring at the movements to avoid the weight of his gaze. “You’d be letting me live in your house, providing everything for me, you’d be changing my life, and—”
“And you’d be changing mine too. You know this.”
“But I can’t give you enough! I can’t make it even.” Sadness welled in your throat, a lump that made it hard to breathe. The selfish part of your mind was beating you for turning down everything you needed as it was handed to you on a silver platter, because your heart was in control right now.
“You don’t mind my hands?” He said after a few moments of silence, and your motions stilled, eyes snapping up to meet his own.
“What?”
“My hands. You don’t mind them?” His fingers flexed in your own, and you squeezed a little tighter.
“Of course not!”
“And what about my wings? My shadows. Do they scare you?” He pressed, and a deep sense of longing, to comfort him, to hold him, rushed through your veins like a drug taking hold.
“Your wings are beautiful, Az. Every part of you is beautiful. From your golden heart to your pretty golden eyes.” His cheeks flushed with a little colour, and you smiled despite yourself, loving that you could dot hat to him. To the infamous and terrifying spymaster of the Night Court. “Your shadows are adorable and playful, and I like them very much.”
“Do I scare you?” His voice was a whisper now, strained like he didn’t want to ask at all but just had to know the answer.
“No.” You replied, just as small and delicate.
“Then why can’t you see, that it has to be you? There’s something special about you. I don’t want anyone else. If you don’t want this deal, then I will let you go, without question or pressure. But I don’t want anyone else, I won’t offer it to another.” He held your hand properly now, lacing his fingers with your own and holding tight. “You have no idea how much you’d be giving me by being here, how much I need you already. By staying, you’d be giving me everything, I’d be the one unable to ever repay you. I want it to be you, I want you here with me. Please, stay.”
You worried your lower lip, your heart beating so hard it almost hurt, and your mind warred with the organ in your chest. You wanted to, you wanted so badly to stay here and be with him. It was surreal and wild and nothing like anybody had ever prepared you for. It was confusing, and different, and so strange. But despite every concern, it felt so right, like somehow, you’d stumbled to exactly where you were supposed to be, with whom you were supposed to be.
“I have so much… so much to give, and nobody to give it to. Let it be you, please.”
“I think I would like to stay too.” You finally whispered, a shot of adrenaline surging through you as the words slipped free. Happiness followed, an overwhelming burst of it at the smile that Azriel gave you, dropping his forehead to your clasped hands.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, I have the easy part here.” You chuckled, taking your hands back to pick up your knife and fork when he finally freed them for you, still beaming as you as he resumed his own breakfast.
“Not true. All I do is let you move into my house, and live with me. It’s no great struggle. You have to…” He trailed off, shrugging a little, and your face flushed with heat, much like his own.
“I hardly think you’ll be a difficult man to love, Azriel.” Your words were whispered, hanging in the air for only a second between you both as he stared, before you cleared your throat, shattering the moment. “What do I do? What would you like? We should probably talk about that.”
He was silent for a few minutes, contemplating your question, and you resumed your eating, trying to get the spinning whirlwind of your thoughts back under control. You’d seen less chaotic sandstorms in Dawn than this felt.
As you finished your plate, somehow managing to finish off all the food that was there, a proud look passed across Azriel’s face as he watched, pleased with himself, it was clear.
“We do… whatever you want. I’ll follow your guidance, you tell me where your line is. If all you want is to be roommates, then that’s what we will be. I want everything, and anything you want to give.” He finished his food, stacking your plates together with a satisfied nod. “You make the rules, you set the boundaries. Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“Should we make another bargain of it?” You pondered aloud, reaching for your lukewarm tea, and your companion was full of simple amusement.
“Don’t ever make a bargain of something where the terms could change, or you’ll never be able to get rid of your promise mark. If I teach you only one thing about the Night Court, I will teach you about deals and promises.” Your hand flew to the back of your neck again, eyes widening.
“They can go?”
“Of course, once a promise is fulfilled, they disappear.”
Your gaze flickered down to his chest, across swatches of strong and taut muscle that was decorated with ink. “You’ve got all those promises currently?”
He sat back, arms stretching a little, and looked down at himself. “Some of them. This one,” He traced his fingers across a splotch of intricate ink just to the right of his heart. “is a promise to my brothers. We all made a promise, to be there for one another no matter what, always. It hasn’t been always, and so the mark remains.”
It made sense, and you looked for more, picking out a blooming pattern across his left shoulder. “What about that one?”
“That is a mark gained by becoming a warrior in the camps. Illyrians wear these tattoos like medals of honour, the more tattoos, the more honour you have. You see how they look ever so slightly different to the promise brands?” He beckoned your clothes, and you rounded the island to observe them with more detail. A shimmer of starlight passed through the promise marks, hardly visible to the naked eye unless you really looked for it. The Illyrian swirls, however, were ink-black and ominous.
“Will you tell me about the rest someday?”
“Happily.” He whispered, muscles jumping under his skin a little as you raised a hand, not daring to touch him but tracing the air over his skin, looking at the beautiful designs that covered so much of his shoulders, arms and chest. “There’s a lot, though.”
“We have time.” You offered, and he swallowed thickly, only nodding a quiet response.
“Yes, we do.” Quiet hung between you both again, dragging on, until you finally stepped away from the magnetic pull of his space, putting a healthy amount of distance between you both. Finally, you could meet his eye again, and finally, you could take a lung-filling breath. “We should go to your apartment, and get your things.”
“I can do that.” You waved a hand, and he scoffed, slipping from his stool to deposit the used dishes into the sink to be tended to later. You made a mental note to make sure you got to them before he did, it’s the least you could do after he cooked.
“Let you go back there alone, are you crazy? Not a chance.”
“I’ve been living there for weeks just fine.”
“Don’t remind me.” He grumbled, wiping his palms across the front of his sleep pants, and shaking out his wings. “Wait here, I’ll go get dressed. You can go in that.”
His words were final, and he disappeared through the kitchen archway into the mass of shadows looking far less sleepily now. You stood no chance of following him through the house without getting entirely lost, and so you only huffed, glancing down at yourself. It would do, you supposed. It wasn’t exactly a classy part of town anyway, and your dress was far worse.
You contemplated putting your heels back on, having just about found your way to the doorway once again, taking the jacket he’d loaned you last night and shrugging it on, heels in hand as he came back. Just the look of them made your feet ache already, and you decided against it, barefoot it would have to be, even if the thought made you cringe.
When Azriel reappeared, it was in black skinny jeans that did wonders for his thighs, and a hoodie just as dark to match. He’d tamed the messy bed hair he’d been sporting, and donned a glowing blue siphon across the back of each hand.
He looked so normal.
“How does that work?”
“How does what work?” He asked, dropping down to begin doing up the laces on his boots, and you felt under-dressed and embarrassed, feelings you were rapidly becoming accustomed to.
“Your hoodie and your wings.” He raised a brow, straightening up as he finished tying his laces.
“They have slots of my wings that fasten underneath, just like this t-shirt and jacket.” Sliding his hand around your back, you gasped as he slipped his hands through the gaps, calloused fingertips brushing the bare skin of your back for just a second.
“I get that, I meant, do you have to get them custom made, or is there… y’know, a store. Wings R’ Us.”
He paused, staring at you in pure shock, before bursting out with laughter, and his hand tightened a little on your back, tugging you a fraction of an inch closer to him before he slipped his hand free.
“What? It’s a valid question!” You mused, but your laughter mixed with his after only a few seconds, his hand retreating to hold your arm instead. You were still laughing as shadows flocked around you, darkness consuming you both, before you were re-emerging on the street outside of your apartment building only a few seconds later.
It was even worse in the daylight, and your laughter fizzled out as you looked up at it. Broken windows, glass covering the sidewalk, dead grass and mysterious puddles all over the pathway. The door was busted in, some windows border up entirely, graffiti and gang signs and burned patches of grass. One patch still had embers flickering. Running down the steps in a disgusting stream was a fresh upchuck of vomit, the tang of it lingering in the air, threatening to turn your stomach.
“You should stay out here. I won’t be long.”
“What? I can come up with you.” He took a step towards you, and your hand pressed to his chest, fingers spreading, and your head shook softly.
“It’s fine, you just wait here.” You didn’t want him to see your apartment, the broken window you’d tried to cover yourself that let in the cold, the mould on the walls, the broken furniture and door that didn’t look properly. You weren’t sure you’d survive that humiliation, having seen his house now. Your new residence, you supposed. There was no need for him to see this.
He didn’t look too happy, gaze moving to the building when voices trickled out from inside, unpleasant curses reaching both of you through the broken windows. “Fine. But, be quick. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“I know you will.” That seemed to satisfy him a little at least, and you didn’t look back at him, not as you weaved up the stairs, being careful to avoid all substances in your bare feet, and slipped through the broken entry.
The stairs were cracked and splintering as you made your way up, you wouldn't miss them even slightly, and as the shock of it all settled into acceptance, a secret smile just for yourself formed. It still felt somewhat selfish to be having what Azriel offered you, you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve it, but it didn’t stop the relief, the overwhelming flood of warmth that filled you, knowing that soon enough, you’d be out of this building for good.
As you slipped through the unlocked door of your squalid apartment, you hoped to never see it again once you left.
Dragging out the solitary trunk you’d been able to travel with from under the bed, you hauled it up onto the squeaky, stained mattress. Undoing the latch, you flicked it open, dust and dirt forming in the air as you swept your hand through to clear it. Below your feet, shouting started, voices beginning to raise from a couple below who seemed to do nothing but fight through all day and night, and you sighed. You certainly would not miss them.
Slipping off Azriel’s jacket and laying it across the box, the first thing you did was find some socks, and a real pair of shoes. Finally, with them laced up and secure across your feet, you felt a little more secure with every footstep you took, no longer dodging splintered wood or hurtful shards.
After brushing your hair and washing your face, you were finally beginning to feel more like yourself again, a small back of rapidly dwindling cosmetics sitting on your broken bed. Below you once again, the fighting got even louder, before something heavy crashed, and the impact of it reverberated up the walls and shook the floorboards under your feet. You paused, the sprinkling of crumbling drywall falling to the floor as the cracks in your walls expanded.
Darkness flashed across the room, exploding out to all corners so quickly you almost missed them. Shadows darted to observe as Azriel spun in place, calculating gaze taking in everything, a dagger in one hand, shoulders squared and braced for a fight. When he deemed the space clear of immediate threat, he turned to you, shocked and shy, mortification creeping in until the edges of your vision was blurry.
“I heard a crash, and I panicked. What the Hell was— are you okay?” He was on guard again, stalking across the room to loop an arm around your waist, crushing you to his chest, and you gasped a shaky breath.
“I told you to wait outside!”
“I know, but I was worried!” A tear threatened to break loose from your eye as your body heated from head to toe, humiliation making itself known. “Let me help you pack. The sooner we get you out of here, into a place with a door that actually locks, the sooner you’ll be safe, and I’ll feel much better.”
The words echoed across the front of your mind, and you stepped away from him, emotions overwhelming as he looked at you in confusion. “How did you know about the door not locking? Did you send one of your shadows to spy on me?”
“No! Of course not.” His shoulders slumped a little, and you almost felt guilty for the accusation, his shadows coiling tighter around his body now. “They just told me when we got here, and I think some of them came with you. They kinda’ have a mind of their own sometimes. You asked me to wait, and I respected that, but I thought you might be in danger. This place is…”
Your chest felt hollow, fiery emotions pulling back and leaving you utterly drained, and you looked away from him to wipe at your cheeks and blink back tears. “This place is all I could afford. It’s not much, but it was good to me, for what I needed. I know it’s not great, I wish I’d had a chance to…” You waved a hand around the awful space, a wet and self-deprecating laugh leaving you, “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to see this—”
“I grew up in a dungeon.”
“You what?” The words best out of you on a shocked breath, your upset was temporarily forgotten as you looked up to him, and he grimaced at himself just slightly. Tucking his knife back away safely behind him, he scratched at the back of his head. “I didn’t… that wasn’t the best way to say that. I just wanted you to know I wasn’t judging you. I grew up in a dungeon, literally. The dark and the cold were my only friends. I would have gone crazy for a place like this as a kid, it would have been a luxury. And don’t even get me started on the trainee dorms and cabins at the camps. I don’t think I knew what it was to not live with illness from the damp or cold until Rhys’ mother took me in. I had my first ever hot bath with Cassian on one side of me and Rhys on the other.”
He reached out, taking your hand much like you had done not so long ago at breakfast, and running his thumb reassuringly over your knuckles. It took several deep, steadying breaths before you were back in control of your emotions. “I hope you don’t still bathe like that.”
“Only on special occasions.” He beamed, lifting his other hand to smooth his thumb over your cheek, before letting the both drop back to his sides. “Let me help you pack?”
“Okay.” You headed back to the bedroom, the room that undoubtedly had most of the items in, and he followed. You’d hardly brought anything with you when you travelled, moving fast and light, hoping you’d escape your meaningless life in Dawn only to end up worse here, until last night. “There’s not much to pack…”
“Then we’ll be home in no time.” Home. The word sparked through you like the ember that lit a fire, your smile beyond your control as you nodded. Azriel moved his jacket out of the way of the box, throwing it onto the dirty bedsheets, and rubbing his hands together. “I assume you’re not bringing everything.”
“Definitely not.” You shook your head, staring at the bed you’d been sleeping in, your skin crawling a little. His shoulders sagged with relief.
“Good, I have guest rooms with all the basics, you can pick any to make your own.” Once again emotions welled within you as you stared at Azriel, who had his hands resting on his hips, glancing around the room, a blue glow cast over it all now. You watched him move, taking in the space, moving towards the wardrobe on the far side of the room and swinging it open.
You were content just watching him, truly believing he wasn’t judging you now, your heart thumping in your chest as for the first time in your life, you felt supported.
He pulled back from within the wardrobe, clearing his throat and letting an item dangle from his fingers. Your jaw dropped open, everything in your head clearing out as he stared at you with wide eyes. Hanging by lacy straps was one of the items you’d bought in preparation for your new job, a garment that was nothing more than netting and threads, and barely enough to cover you from nipple to thighs. “Uh, how exactly do you put this on?”
You flew across the room, faster than you’d ever moved before, snatching it from him with wide eyes and scrunching it between your hands. There was so little fabric to it that it almost disappeared between your palms as you did so. You turned, shoving it into the corner of your case where you hoped he couldn't see it anymore, practically feeling his breathy laugh wash over you as your nerves fired on ends.
“No?” You turned back to him, a strangled sound leaving your lips as he lifted out some red mesh, waving the bodice in the air like a flag. “What about this one?”
“Stop!” You coughed, taking it and throwing it over your shoulder, not caring where it went, as mischief shone in his eyes. He didn’t look away from you as he reached in again, clearly enjoying being able to get this reaction, but you weren’t sure you could handle any more. Snatching his hands up into your own, you clutched his much larger ones tightly, pulling them to your chest and scowling up at his gleeful expression. “Stop pulling out… those items!”
“Those items are all that’s in there!”
You could only groan, and he flexed his hands in your tight grip, his knuckles brushing your collarbone lightly, and you gasped, releasing him immediately, unsure your blush could get any worse as his hands fell away from your chest. You sank to sit on the edge of the bed, covering your face in your hands, muffling another distressed groan.
Azriel took a knee before you, his fingers firmly prying your hands from your face. “Where are your real clothes?”
“In the drawers.” You sighed, waving to the rickety dresser against the far wall, and he nodded. Rising, he opened the top drawer, scooping out your folded clothes carefully and laying them in the trunk on your bed. He returned, opening another drawer, and another. “What are you doing?”
“Where are the rest?”
“That’s it.” You sighed, his brows raising high as you stood, finally retrieving the red corset from the floor and folding it neatly, before placing that inside too.
“That’s it?” He echoed, disbelief in his voice, and you only shrugged, pulling the final few items free from the wardrobe. A few more clothes, two more pairs of heels, and a single old coat you’d managed to buy here for a few coppers at a second-hand store.
“I didn’t have much to start with, I had to travel light, only what I could carry. I bought a few sets of clothes, some books, and my savings.” He retrieved said pile of books, holding them carefully and arranging them amongst the clothes, making sure not to look at the items from the wardrobe you’d carefully laid inside. “I was naïve. I thought I’d get her, to the Court of Dreams, and all my dreams would come true. I thought I’d find a job, buy more clothes, and live happily ever after. I was an idiot.”
“Hey,” He muttered, lips pursing, hand resting over your own. “You’re not an idiot. You’re optimistic, and hopeful, and that’s how it should have been. That’s the reputation this place has, it’s not your fault. You’re supposed to come here to find better, I’m sorry you didn’t.”
He spoke with such conviction on behalf of his court you almost felt like you had personally offended him, until he offered you a small smile.
“After paying the rent for this crappy place and being unable to find any other job, I invested what little of my savings I had left into those stupid clothes.” You rubbed your forehead, feeling a headache coming on if you didn’t leave the stress of this place behind soon. “Luckily, before I ran out of money, I bought some ridiculous little baskets and a throw blanket when I first arrived, to cheer myself up. Stupid decision, really, but they were colourful, and they brightened this place up a little, and made me happy to come back to.”
You wouldn't call this place home, it had never been, and Azriel left to the rest of the cramped space, wings tucked tight. You sealed up the box again, brushing your hands across the top of it now that it held everything you owned, and lifted it to the floor. It was barely any heavier than when you’d first arrived.
He returned, clutching your two baskets in hand, and he throw-rug rolled up neatly and placed inside of one. They made you smile, the first purchases you’d made upon getting here that were purely for indulgence. “They’re kinda’ tacky, I know, but—”
“I love them.” Azriel left no room for argument on it, his tone final, and you pressed your lips together to hide the size of the grin you wanted to offer. “Is this truly everything?”
“Everything I want to bring.”
“Then let’s get the fuck out of here.” He jerked his chin, motioning you forward, his arms full but you freed a hand to settle on his arm, and darkness wrapped around you both again to move you through the shadows.
Back to safety and comfort, it was an effort to step away from Azriel’s side, even when you were within the walls of his home once again. Your home now, too.
Putting down the baskets and the blanket, Azriel took the trunk from your hands, motioning to the stairs with his free one. “Let’s get you settled in, huh? Before you decide to back out on me again.”
“Oh, shut it.” Your scowl only made him laugh, following you up the stairs towards the upper level of the house. He took over, guiding you down corridors you vaguely recognised from this morning, and you knew that you’d either have to ask him for a tour or do some serious exploring before you knew this place properly, but you’d have plenty of time for that.
Azriel had paused before a smaller door, solid wood frame and a panelled white door, closed currently. He tapped his knuckles on the frame, before twisting the knob and letting the door swing open. Inside was spacious, natural light flooded in from all corners, and if you’d thought the wide halls and floor-to-ceiling windows were grand, this was something else. Decorated much like the rest of the house, with simple tones of cream and beige, this room was one of the most beautiful.
A bed the same size as Azriel’s sat against the far wall, accessible from both sides with no cramping, and delicate gauze curtains fluttered in the breeze. Through one archway was a whole walk-in closet, with endless empty racks and drawers for you to fill, a whole wall designed for shoes. Through the other cracked door, you could see tiles and a tub, an ensuite bathroom for your personal usage, just like Azriel’s room.
There was a desk, a wall of bookshelves with a few trinkets and half-burned candles on, and a small armchair sitting just beneath them.
“This is your guest room?” You sputtered, and Azriel only leaned on the doorway as you stepped inside, taking it all in, from the paintings hung on the wall to the ornate faelights.
“Sometimes Mor stays over, she prefers this room. Cassian prefers the other guest room, he says it has a better view of the mountains.”
“Mor?” You echoed, tracing your fingers over the silky bedsheets and biting back a smile, that same feeling that none of this could be real coming rushing back, with force.
“Morrigan.” The name flashed through you from his stories last night, and your back straightened a little.
“She won’t mind if I use this room, though?”
“Mor hardly stays over, and she never stays the same time as Cassian. She can use the other guest room, you seem to like this one.” His tone got lighter toward the end, and you couldn’t agree more, barely containing your expression of joy.
“I do like this room.” You let go with a dreamy sigh, and Azriel placed your case just inside the door, sinking into the soft carpet. Your gaze moved back to him, from the flicker of a smile on his lips, to the spark in his eyes, to the casual slump of his wings behind himself. Shadows were slipping in around him, exploring this room too and dancing around your legs. Striding back to him, you clasped both of his hands in your own, searching his eyes once more, just to be sure. “Are you certain about this, Azriel?”
“There are very few things I ever say I am absolutely certain of, I am not a man of exaggerations or hyperbole. I value statistics, and realism, and honesty.” Azriel squeezed your hands when your throat bobbed, “But I can say with total confidence that this, that you, are one thing I am sure of.”
“Thank you, Azriel.”
He squeezed once more, before letting go, and standing back from you. “Unpack your things, and then meet me downstairs when you’re done.”
The door clicked shut behind him when he went, leaving you alone for a while to admire your new bedroom. It was bigger than your whole apartment had been, luxurious and ornate and beautiful.
It didn’t take you long to unpack your things, putting each different item in a different drawer one for shirts, one for pants, one for pyjamas. You hung your coat up on a stray hanger, and placed your few pairs of shoes into the first of the many cubbies lining one whole wall, already picturing how beautiful it would look when it was full.
Stacking your few books on the bookshelf, you arranged them alongside Morrigan’s half-burned candles, sniffling each one, and approving each time. You re-fluffed the pillows of the armchair, and then the bed, the shadows watching you explore the whole room with excitement.
Lastly, you toed off your current shoes, setting them neatly by the door, before padding into the ensuite bathroom.
Pale brown stone tiles lined the floor, white tiles lined the walls, with exposed wooden beams just like the rest of the house, pulling it all together. A few soaps and oils sat along one shelf in the shower, with more stashed in a cupboard that stretched from the floor up to the ceiling. Neatly folded towels filled a rack in the corner, the cotton warm to the touch as it was coated in golden sunlight, with bounced from every mirror and made the room glow.
Half sunken into the floor, entirely separate from the shower, was a large bathtub, big enough to accommodate anyone with wings even if they spread them out, and when you sat in the empty tub, you could hardly reach the sides with your arms stretched out.
Your cheeks almost hurt from grinning so much by the time you got control of yourself again, beginning your exploratory mission throughout the house to try and find your way once again.
It wasn’t as hard this time, the third time you’d made the journey, all of it finally starting to feel a little easier. Even if you did cheat a little, following the floral smell of whatever tea Azriel had busied himself with brewing while he waited. He wasn’t in the kitchen when you found him, though.
He was in a room you hadn't seen before, the living room, a space somehow even bigger than your bedroom and his. Combined. The fireplace was crackling to life, the quiet pops of logs sounding through the space, and another tray of tea sat out on the table. He was sitting in one of the many armchairs that were designed to accommodate wings, low-backed couches and loungers filling the room, making it look cosy and inviting.
All the books on these shelves were lined up neatly, arranged in groups with ornaments and trinkets splitting them up, the kinds of things you’d never seen before, surely mementoes from his travels all across the continent and beyond. Hanging over the fireplace was a portrait, snow outside the windows and a Solstice tree full of presents, with what seemed to be Azriel’s entire family gathered around, smiling happily. Even the infant heir was present, little Lord Nyx as a baby, sitting on his mother’s lap.
“Feyre painted it, it was a gift for my birthday last year.”
“When is your birthday?” Your attention moved to Azriel as he stood, smirking and moving to pour a second cup of tea. He told you as he moved, and you stored the information away for later, making sure you’d do something special for it. He asked for your own, information which you happily offered in return for the mug he left on the table for you.
As you stepped closer to the chair beside his own, you spotted your baskets, sitting in a neat stack beside the fire. Decorative and perfectly imperfect in the space, a disbelieving laugh on your lips. On the back of the couch was your blanket, thrown artistically over the cushions, and a squeak left your lips as you saw them.
It was the final drop, the bit that sent every other emotion overflowing within you until tears of happiness were lining your eyes. Seeing them here, so simple but it meant so much to you, and you raced to him, until your arms circled his middle, face pressing into the centre of his chest. You nuzzled in close, overwhelmed by your emotions, overwhelmed by him, and letting out a shaky sound that was muffled by his hoodie.
“Is this okay?” You mumbled, twisting to the side, to press your cheek over his heart instead, the same way he’d fallen asleep on you last night, and the stiffness of his body melted away. His arms wrapped around you, so tight you swore he’d never let you go as he hauled you even closer to himself.
“Yes,” His response was breathy, just as timid as your question had been, but laced with so much emotion it practically lanced right through you. His cheek came down to rest atop your head, kissing your hair before he was hugging you just as desperately as you were him.
“Y’know, this is really nice,” You sniffed, laughing through the tears that were going to break free any second, and relishing the affection he was giving to you. “I think we’re going to work out just fine.”
“I think so too, sweetheart.”
#SLS#sweet like sugar#azriel/you#azriel x you#azriel x reader#azriel/reader#azriel shadowsinger#acotar/you#acotar x you#acotar/reader#acotar x reader#acotar
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II. Banishment
Author: @firelordsfirelady
Imagine: When Y/N—a princess of one of the Water Tribes—is told she’s leaving her tribe, she never expects that she’s to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son, nor was she prepared to be exiled the very day she arrived at the Fire Nation. With her life in the hands of her new fiancée, how will life change for the princess?
Pairing: Zuko x F!Reader
Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, feelings of fear, banishment, mentions of burns/abuse, frustration, violence, betrayal
Word Count: 2119
Destined to be Yin and Yang
I own no rights to Avatar the Last Airbender or any of the characters/story.
Author’s Notes
The characters as all aged up so Zuko’s banishment happens when he’s 16
Keep in mind I am bringing a unique world with inspiration from ATLA in their characters, some of the events that happen, bending, etc. Not many things may align or occur with what happened in the show. It’s intended that way, so I hope you enjoy it regardless.
See Y/N's inspiration here.
I had been fearful my first week or so aboard the ship to practice my waterbending. Since I now had no regular practice, I feared losing the knowledge of my element. As the full moon approached, the urge grew strong to waterbend, and I couldn’t stand to deny myself further. I devised a plan to sneak out on the night of the full moon to practice my waterbending.
The night of the full moon, I put my plan into action. Using small amounts of oil to grease the hinges of the door, I silently opened the door and peered into the hall. When silence greeted me for a satisfactory amount of time, I tip toed into the hallway and pressed my ear slightly against the door across from me. Once again, silence greeted me, and I crept away from the room containing the Fire Lord’s son. Sticking to the shadows, I crept through the corridor and peered through the little window of the door. None of the crew was on the deck, so I slipped out of the door.
The cool breeze of the open seas at night greeted me as I leaned against the wall as I faintly picked up the sounds of laughter and drunken shenanigans happening below deck. The crew had settled for the night to relax, and I felt some tension leave my shoulders. With light feet, I crept to the center of the deck and glanced up at the sky. The clouds parted to reveal the moon in all of its beautiful glory as I smiled at the display. Glancing around once more, I was satisfied to see no one else.
Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes as I let the pull to waterbend flow through me. Taking a small stream from the ocean, I water whipped the air over the railing on the other side of the boat. I slid my feet horizontally across the deck as I turned the stream to an ice sculpture before closing my fist to rupture the sculpture I just made. A genuine smile settled on my lips as relief flushed my system. Fighting back a small laugh, I danced with streams of water and ice as I embraced the power of the full moon. A sound from below brought my moment of joy to an end as I returned the water back to the ocean and quickly made my escape to my room. I slid into my bed with a smile on my face.
Closing my eyes, I made a promise to myself: I will be doing that every full moon.
The next morning, I was surprised to see Zuko present at the table for breakfast. I gave a polite nod to Iroh as I sat down at my usual spot and fixed a plate of some eggs then made a cup of tea. Zuko sat at the table quietly eating his own plate of breakfast, but he never looked at or acknowledged my presence. Iroh cleared his throat as he gave Zuko a certain look. The loud clatter of Zuko’s fork roughly hitting the ceramic plate as he let out an annoyed huff.
“Good morning, Princess.” Zuko practically growled as his face twisted in annoyance. My former title didn’t sound well coming from the former prince, so I gave him a soft smile.
“Y/N. You can just call me Y/N.” The young man across from me scuffed as he crossed his arms across his chest.
“Father cannot seriously expect me to marry someone as improper as you.” The soft smile on my lips wavered slightly at the prince’s harsh words, but I maintained my composure as I looked at Zuko’s scar. It looked fresh, but healing the best it could. Whatever caused the burn must’ve caused serious damage to his eye, and I speculated the wound had caused some problems for his sight; however, I kept my gaze only briefly on the scar as I shifted my gaze back to my eggs.
“Forgive me, Prince Zuko.” Iroh shook his head as I spoke, but the Prince did not look at me as I continued. “I was just trying to--”
“I told you that you won’t distract me from my mission.” Zuko let out in a burst of anger. “I don’t care about whatever you were trying to do. It won’t help me find the Avatar!” My heart sank to the bottom of my chest as I forced myself to take deep, calming breaths. I could feel tears threatening to gather in my eyes, but I excused myself from the table before retreating out of the room.
“Nephew--” I heard Iroh’s voice as I left the room.
“Do not nephew me! I am not wrong! She’s no use to me in finding the avatar.” Zuko’s angry words caused my eyes to burn more. I blinked away the tears in a desperate attempt to clear my blurry vision as I made haste to my bedroom. Once safe in the four walls I shared with no one, I collapsed on the bed and cried into the pillow.
A series of soft knocks sounded on my door a few hours later. I sighed heavily as I granted permission to whomever was on the other side to enter. The door opened to reveal Iroh standing there holding a tray of hot tea.
“Would you care for some tea?” Iroh had a soft smile on his lips as he spoke in a gentle tone. I closed the book I had been reading as I gave the older man a soft smile.
“Only if it’s jasmine tea.” Iroh let out a belly laugh as he set the tray down on the small end table next to the bed.
“I am glad to have met someone else who has an appreciation for jasmine tea like myself.” His jovial tone immediately set my nerves at ease. “It is also Zuko’s favorite tea as well.” My heart clenched in hurt at the mention of the prince’s name, and Iroh’s eyes softened at me.
“I must apologize for my nephew’s comment earlier.” I looked at Iroh as he continued. “Not that it excuses his behavior, but would you like to know why Zuko was banished?” I raised an eyebrow at the older man with the long beard as he sipped on his cup of jasmine tea.
“Yes. No one on the ship seems to know why he is banished.” I admit quietly. “I’ve been curious since we boarded the boat.” I sipped on the warm liquid of my cup of jasmine tea, and sighed in content as the warmth spread within my chest and down to my stomach. The older man smiled as he took a seat on the small chair in front of the desk.
“My brother has quite the reputation for military conquest. There is nothing and no one he wouldn’t sacrifice if it meant meeting his ultimate goal—to be the sole ruler of all the nations.” I nodded along as I listened to Iroh. “Zuko—being the next in-line for the throne—was present at this council meeting with Ozai and his generals. They were discussing a plan to invade and attack, but the crew was made of fresh recruits.” Iroh looked out of the window as he continued.
“When Zuko mentioned that the new recruits were not able to handle the task and would die in the battle, the general merely agreed while Ozai said that war comes with sacrifices.” A heavy sigh left the older man, and I felt I knew where this was going. “Zuko challenged the order, and his father said it would need to be settled with Agni Kai.”
I knew a little about the Agni Kai from the book I had just been reading. Even though Zuko was banished at this moment in time, I had wanted to learn more about the Fire Nation and their customs. Agni Kai were traditional firebender duels that occurred when one’s honor was challenged, and they only ended when one opponent burns the other. I felt the color drain from my face as the reality of how the burn got on Zuko’s face dawned on me.
“Zuko was prepared to fight the general, but when my brother stood across from Zuko at the Agni Kai….” Iroh’s voice trailed off as I closed my eyes.
In my month aboard the ship, I had learned that Zuko was the same age as me. I couldn’t imagine how he felt when his own father challenged him in a battle of honor, nor could I imagine how he felt when his own father burned him. My heart ached for the young man, but I opened my eyes again to look at the older man who watched me with saddened eyes.
“Zuko hesitated one moment in the Agni Kai, and his father burned him for his weakness.” My thoughts briefly moved towards my own father, and how different mine and Zuko’s upbringing had been. My father would never have challenged me to such a fight, nor would he have caused physical harm to me. I couldn’t imagine what he endured as a child, nor the pain he must feel now. “His father exiled him and told him the only way to restore his honor is to return with the avatar.” Iroh and I exchanged knowing expressions.
“What a cruel punishment.” I spoke without thought, which caused Iroh to chuckle. “Forgive me. I spoke without care.”
“Oh no.” Iroh smiled at me. “It is quite alright. I fear that I share similar thoughts.” His eyes softened at me. “Forgive me, my dear, for it appears that you too have been unfairly punished by this situation as well.” I shifted my gaze down to my hands as I fiddled with the empty cup.
“I had no clue what was happening the day I was told that I was to be betrothed to the Fire Lord’s son.” I started off in a low voice. “Mother and Father looked hesitant to tell me what terms the Fire Lord had accepted for peace.”
“I barely had time that morning to say goodbye to everyone before I was rushed away to the ship and on my way to the Fire Nation.” My eyes blinked away tears as I recalled my parents’ somber expressions as I left, and I let out a humorless laugh. “I honestly had no idea what awaited me when the ship docked that day.”
“Part of me wondered—based on the stories they’ve told of the Fire Nation—if I was even going to be alive once I set foot on Fire Nation soil.” I played with a strand of my hair that dangled into my lap. “Lord Ozai said only to follow him, or I’d miss my boat.” Looking up at Iroh, I found more sadness in his eyes.
“I was so relieved to not be dead upon arrival, but I had a new fear that I wouldn’t survive three seconds on the boat.” I gave a small smile at the memory. “I am glad that my fears were just that—fears. I couldn’t imagine what Zuko must be feeling or what he’s thinking about.”
“You are far wiser than most adults are:” Iroh said with a smile. “The Prince does not yet know how lucky he is.” My cheeks felt hot at the comment, but I shrugged away my embarrassment.
“Mother and Father always told me to never judge someone before you get to know their story, and to always try your best to show kindness to strangers.” I shrugged as I looked out of the window in the room. “I was to be a ruler one day, and I wanted nothing more than to be a kind ruler like my father.” Shaking my head, I looked at Iroh. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“You’re welcome.” Iroh nodded. “I know it doesn’t excuse Zuko’s behavior—“
“No, but it does help me understand this situation a bit more.” A sad smile found its place on my lips as Iroh gathered his tea tray. “Thank you for the tea and conversation. I really enjoyed it.”
“If you ever need tea, I am always willing to make some.” He sent a small wink my way before he left, closing the door behind him.
As I sat in the silence of my room, I felt a heavy feeling sink in my chest. The Fire Lord probably sought out the engagement as a source of embarrassment to place upon his son—as if he hadn’t been embarrassed enough. Instead of wallowing in self pity, a new idea slowly crept into my head, and I smiled at the thought.
I need to speak with the cooks.
Tag List @chevysstuffs @puttyly @hypnoticbeing
#avatar imagine#zuko imagine#zuko x reader#avatar the last airbender#prince zuko#destined to be yin and yang
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I could make you more than a drink.
bartender!scaramouche x gn!reader, flirting, teasing.
an: I saw a bartender do cool tricks and I was like, "fuck, that's hot." so here i am.
@/AraAraImpact on twt
After a painfully exhausting day of working at a place that does nothing to satisfy you emotionally, you go to a bar on your way home, contrary to your usual self. However, this change brings a catalyst of difference into your life in the form of the violet-eyed bartender that serves you.
The sun was just setting down as you departed from your work and you found yourself exhausted as always. You didn't really have a job you loved, to you a job was just that, a job. It didn't have to be something you liked as long as it paid the bills, but you'd be lying if you had said it wasn't tiresome.
You weren't a common customer at pubs or bars around your town, you weren't much of a drinker, it wasn't really up your alley. Though, you couldn't deny that sometimes you wanted something that would hit you so strong you'd forget about anything prior to that moment. And that's why you were here, taking a seat on the black cushioned high chair, letting out a worn out sigh.
"No need to sigh so loud."
A somewhat annoyed voice pipes up, and when you meet the owner of the voice he rolls his eyes at you. "Oh, my apologies, did I bother you?" Sarcasm laces your voice as you rest your head on the back of your hand. "You did." He wore a stone faced look, his facial muscles never budging except for his eyes that narrowed onto you the more you spoke. "So sorry." You smiled, and he could tell how cheap you were being. Whatever, he'll move on. "What do you want?"
"Dark and Stormy." You answer, and watch his brow rise in question at your request, "Who ruined your day?" It could've merely been that you werent well acquainted with drinks and merely chose whatever sounded the coolest or bitter, but he found it oddly aligned with your disheveled self. It's not like he didn't notice how overworked you appeared when you entered, but it's not like he cared to think much of it. "Wouldn't you like to know." A hum leaves you, amused as you are. He didn't continue prying.
You wonder if your personality is more teasing whenever you are feeling worse. Though you don't really care enough to focus on that when you have the man before you picking up a smaller shaker and flicking a larger one off the bar side, flipping it in the air to catch it upright with his free hand. You always forget how easily entertained you are by these tricks. He takes a peek at you, taking note of your amusement. You were so simple, but he'd indulge you.
He sets the shakers down, instead pulling out three bottles with a spin before tossing each one into the air, and beginning to juggle them. How he has the confidence to do so you don't know, but he must be extremely qualified to be behind that bar or at least had been here for a long time. You could hear some 'ooh's and 'ah's by some other customers whilst others seemed used to it. Maybe you'll try it when you go home, although you really shouldn't.
Catching the bottles, the tip inbetween his fingers he sets two down, picking up the jiggler by his side and twirling it before pouring the liquid into it and then dumping that into the shaker. He repeats the act a couple of times till he starts squeezing fresh orange juice to pour in as well. He puts the lid on and starts shaking it up near the side of his head, giving you time to admire him and get a proper look at him.
His chest rose with each breath he took, you saw how his mouth would open in to take a deep inhale at times. He wss a great bartender but he wasn't the biggest fan of crowds. You now strangely notice how the sleeves of his black tight shirt are rolled up, the lines of his triceps now becoming apparent and you don't miss how well built his lower arm is.
He sets the shakers down, breaking you out of your thoughts. And he smirks at you almost mischievously. He knew.
He begins pouring the drink, and somehow it only dawns on you now that this isn't what you ordered as he sets it down. "What's the big idea?"
"You shouldn't be having something so bitter."
"Oh? And you're dictating that?"
"I am." It's best for you.
You shot him a glare, but he merely shrugged seemingly unbothered and went back to serving other customers.
_
Time passed yet you paid no regard to it, too caught up on gazing blankly at your drink, swirling the glass from time to time and watching the liquid ripple in reaction. Taking miniscule sips as the evening sky delved into an azure shade of darkness. As people left, as some came and as some merely spent their time there having forgotten the concept of time just as you had, he kept his eye on you, observing you. Despite you coming in so gloomy, it seemed that even a drink wasn't going to curb your worries.
"Hey."
You hear the sound of a towel being hit against something slightly hard, a pat sound occuring. You look up to see the bartender from before, a cloth over his shoulder. "Yeah?" You responded nonchalantly. Your tone seemed to make him frustrated as his eyes narrowed down onto your slumped figure. "You're scaring people away with that depressing face." Turning to your left and right, you notice that there is in fact no one sitting beside you.
You bite the inside of your mouth before making eye contact with him again, taunting your head to the side. "So?" It didn't matter what face you were making, it's not like it would change the taste of their drinks so why blame it on you.
"So," He pulls on his black latex gloves, securing them around his wrist prior to fetching an item from underneath the under bar. He pulls out an ice pick as his other hand reaches into a container picking out a cube of ice. "I'm going to be carving these for a while." Indigo orbs separate their focus from the icy block in his hands, and momentarily glance at you through lidded eyes, "Entertain me." You almost miss the slight quirk of his lip.
Why he had taken an interest in you, or well, bothered to even offer you an ear to listen to your ramblings, you didn't know. But you wouldn't deny the offer for a release.
With an exhausted exhale, – that he rolled his eyes at, again – you began speaking about your day, which evolved to you talking about the recent weeks, then it turned to you telling him about the past few months and then all that came before. It wasn't intentional, it's just that the line blurred the more you went on about your job. What did you ever wanna do when you were younger? Isn't it naive to have dreams? Isn't money what's most valuable, after all how can you even start to fantasise without having the materials to do so?
Laying yourself bare to a stranger wasn't on your to-do list today, but you found the sound of him breaking the ice with a pick and cutting it with a serrated knife to make an oddly beautiful shape, appearing clean like a marble, to be satisfying. It's not like you were going on without stopping, sometimes you'd glance up to him, he wouldn't meet your eyes but he'd tell you to go on, humming in acknowledgement as you continued to speak.
You really didn't get if this qualified as entertainment but he didn't seem to mind. Still, you didn't want to be acting all sad when he asked for you to amuse him, so you threw in some stories of some stupid occasions in your life, though once you told him these things he looked at you like you were the biggest moron he's ever seen in his life.
_
"When I turned around it was on fire."
You hear a well sculpted ice fall into the container with a loud clunk and when you raise your eyes to perceive his expression he wears the most judgmental look you had ever seen. His eyes were practically glaring at you and his mouth was agape. It was like you had told him the most disgusting irksome information ever.
It took a moment before he spoke again, "You fucking burned spaghetti? You. Burned. Spaghetti." It certainly didn't sound like a question but it was more so the shock that made it seem that way.
"Holy shit, you're a fucking idiot. Oh my god."
"It wasn't my fault! The fire was stronger, I didn't know that we had the gas tank changed into a different brand!"
"...How many times."
"...What?"
"How many times did it happen?"
"..."
Neither one of you blinks and your expression didn't budge once, but that told him everything he wished he never knew. You witnessed the realisation seep into his eyes and somehow he seemed to think less of you, but you had to defend yourself.
"It was only twice!"
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT WAS ONLY TWICE??"
_
Least be said, you think you two got along well.
By now the bar had emptied out and you couldn't believe that you actually spent that much time here. Your glass was empty and the bartender didn't waste time swiping it away and wiping the wet imprint left on the darkly wooden counter, it allowed you a closer look at his hand, having taken off the gloves after he had finished tending to all that carving. You didn't make any efforts to hide how focused you were on them.
You must admit you didn't think he'd have his nails so well taken care of, they were almond shaped, not long, not short, just an average amount. He had his cuticles well taken care of and his fingers were pretty slender, his skin outlining his bones.
A cough interrupts you, but you don't look up.
His knuckles were defined, you could see that the one at the centre was slightly different, you had your own guess as to why thinking he must've gotten a fight a long time ago to have done that, or maybe he boxes?
"You have no shame you know that?"
The hand you were looking at is seemingly gone from your field of vision as you follow the holder of the easing voice yet judgmental voice you've become acustomed to. "You don't seem to mind all that much." Putting the cloth back over his shoulder you see him smug as he rolls his eyes, his words drowning in sarcasm, "Oh, not at all. Believe me, you're the very first to be so bold with me. Really." You didn't doubt there were others who have flirted with him so directly, and with good reason, who wouldn't? Yes, he was appealing to the eye, but he also was very skilled as a bartender, had a rather soothing voice, and his personality was.. bearable, actually pretty likeable. Somewhat.
"Right, but do you always give them this much attention?"
That appeared to have shut him up. For someone who tended to express his emotions towards someone's words so openly he didn't seem to always embrace this fact. The way he glares at you was less of anger and more of embarrassment as though he had been caught doing what he himself hadn't noticed. This only made you smirk at him, and you were glad to say that you got to get a hand over him at least once this night. "Shut up"
"I totally got you."
"You're just a customer, it's formal courtesy."
"You're interested in me."
"Ha, says the one who's been ogling me like a lunatic!"
"Because I like you."
Silence. Complete and utter silence. That is, between you two only. Life around you was still bustling, however it felt muffled, as if your ears were turning all that you deemed irrelevant deaf. "What.."
To say he was stunned was a bit of an understatement. Okay, maybe to say you liked him so directly came off head strong, but you thought why not make a lasting impression. "I said, I like you." Your smirk now widening into a grin.
"You barely know me!"
"Love at first sight is such a miracle!" Words sappy accompanied with overdramatic gestures. Oh, you were fucking with him. To think he'd let himself be teased by someone like this, no way. No, he can't allow that.
The man before you was leaned over the counter, his face relatively close to yours. He had his arms crossed on the wooden decor of the front bar, his torso resting on his forearms. "Want to act that way? Fine by me."
You had to admit it was kind of intimidating in a way having him so up close, not that you were going to tell him that and have him move though. This allowed you to make really direct eye contact with him and though you somewhat wanted to pull away you knew this was a challenge from him and you must admit, you found the hue of his orbs quite tantalising. You don't think you had ever seen such a colour in someone's eyes, it was fitting of the night yet still gleaming. "But if you're going to do this, then can you not get so easily distracted?" He snapped his fingers near your ear and this time he's the one to sigh.
"I may be a bartender, but I could do more than be eye candy and make you drinks. I could give you more than you have ever wanted."
"Can't help it. All I want is riiight here."
That was cheesy and you would've cringed at yourself if that hadn't been the intent. He raised a brow at you, "Are you implying that you can't take your eyes off me?" And he seemed to sound rather amused by this knowledge. "Maybe." The bartender hums in response and returns to his normal position, standing straight behind the counter, a hand on his hip.
"Alright, I'll let you admire me." God, he really is likeable. "However, each hour you spend you have to pay for." You take it back.
A muffled laugh catches your interest as you see how sniffles his voice with the back of his hand. "I didn't think you had your hopes up so high." He thought seeing the way your face morphed into disappointment was definitely a worthy sight. "I pity you and I'm an oh-so generous soul, so, if you keep coming here I'll let you talk to me. And if I feel extra nice I'll tell you my name."
"Your name? It says it on your tag, it's Scaramouche, right? Then I'll call you Scara."
"Hmm, you can find out for yourself if that's true."
You hadn't expected a rather mild boring and tiring day to turn into this, but you were kinda glad it did now for you had something that intrigued you on your hands.
#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x y/n#scaramouche#genshin scaramouche#scaramouche genshin impact#wanderer genshin#wanderer#wanderer x reader#genshin impact
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Wildest Dreams
Larissa Weems x inexperienced fem!reader
hi everyone! this is the first chapter (maybe?) of the snippet i posted a little while back. I had a few people ask if i would write/post more so i finished a little bit. this is my first fic that ive ever posted so im super nervous to post but i hope someone enjoys it :)
ao3 is here in case you’d prefer that. there’s no cw for now but will add if i decide to write more chapters as needed <3
You find a clear spot in the loud bar and begin leaning on the wall. Taking a sip from your glass, your eyes glance over to a tall, blonde figure, seemingly floating through the chaotic crowd. You start to panic as the curvy, tall woman confidently walks in your direction. She stops a few feet away from you, staring intensely. People cross in between the two of you but her gaze doesn’t leave yours. You feel your face get hot and quickly look down at your drink. Your eyes dart back up and she’s suddenly gone. Trying not to look obvious, you glance around as casually as possible.
She was literally taller than all the guys here, where the hell could she have gone? You sigh and bring the glass back to your lips. After a few more sips and scans of the room, you give up and decide to leave.
Slowly, you start making your way through the sweaty crowd towards the exit.
“Leaving so soon?” You hear a sultry voice ask behind you.
Quickly turning around, you see her again, smiling and holding out a drink towards you. You stumble over your words as she walks closer towards you.
“Here, darling. I guessed what your drink was, I hope that’s alright. But if you’re leaving, I suppose I’ll just have to keep it to myself.” She says with a red-lipped smirk.
You stutter, “N-no, I was just… Getting some air, that’s all. Thank you.”
She gives you the glass and your hands shake as you take it from her. You take a sip, trying to avoid eye contact.
Why am I so fucking nervous? What the fuck is wrong with me?
The tall woman smirked and leaned over closer to your ear, “I’ll be honest, I’m very happy you’re not leaving. I was hoping that you would leave with me.”
You swallow deeply, suddenly your mouth was completely dry despite the alcohol you just drank. You shiver as her long fingers move a bit of hair off of your shoulder. You look in her eyes for the first time and are amazed at the endless blue color. “I’m sorry, I-I’m not usually this nervous. I’ve just… never been flirted with so outright. Especially not by…” your eyes widen while you scan her tall, curvaceous build up and down. “Someone as beautiful as you…”
The woman smiles brightly at you, “I don’t believe that for a moment. my name is Larissa, may I ask what yours is, darling?”
Her accent and cadence made a shiver go down your spine. You almost completely forget what your name even is. “Uh… It’s Y/n.” You smile and look down at your drink again, swirling the liquid in the bottom of the glass.
“How beautiful, very fitting for a beautiful woman.” She beams at you again, leaning back close to your ear. “Would you be interested in joining me somewhere a bit more quiet? I’m friends with the owner, she lent me a key to the rooftop.”
Your head nods instinctually. Larissa grins and puts her arm out for you to hold onto as she guides you up a small set of stairs to a locked door. Pulling out a set of keys from her purse, she finds the correct one and opens the door and holds it open for you to step outside.
Shutting the door behind her and taking a deep breath of the cool air, “Isn’t it lovely up here? Sometimes it’s just nice to step away from the chaos for a moment.”
“Yeah, it’s really nice. I didn’t even know there was rooftop access here.” You respond as you look around at a small set of couches and a coffee table, with Christmas lights strung around the sitting area.
Larissa gently takes your hand and guides you to a couch. You both sit down for a moment before you let out a quiet sigh.
She notices your slight change of mood and rests her hand on your cheek, “Is everything okay, sweetling?”
Her hand was so soft and calming against your cheek. She slowly moves it into your hair, tucking a small strand behind your ear. You meet her stare and suddenly you feel as though you can’t breathe. “I’m sorry, I’m fine. Just… nervous, is all.”
“I understand perfectly. I promise you, nothing bad will happen to you while I’m around. I’ll take good care of you, my darling.”
Your body is seemingly paralyzed as she slowly leans in to kiss you. It’s the most wonderful feeling you’ve ever experienced; her soft lips against yours, her fingers running through your hair. You never want it to end.
You begin to feel an unfamiliar tightness and warmth under your stomach, but you can’t find the will to stop kissing the woman. You impulsively place your hand on her exposed thigh. She lets out a small moan as your skin touches hers.
I need to fucking hear that again.
After another minute of kissing and rubbing the skin on her leg with your thumb, you slowly slide your fingers underneath the hem of her tight skirt. Again, she moans in response to your touch. She pulls away from your lips and smiles, “I appreciate your boldness, darling, but we can’t do this here.”
Please, I’ll go wherever you tell me to.
“I understand, I may have gotten a little carried away, I apologize…” You respond, trying to steady your heavy breathing.
She chuckles quietly and tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear, “No need to apologize, just… Can I take you home with me?”
Yes! God, yes please.
You smile nervously in an attempt to not show how badly you want her to take you right there. “S-sure… Of course you can.”
Her eyes light up and she grabs your hand, pulling it up to her mouth and kissing it softly. Your arm is covered in goosebumps as a red lipstick stain is left on the top of your hand. She smiles up at you, “Let me call a car for us.”
You nod as she pulls her cell phone from her bag and you watch as her tall figure walks away for a moment.
What the fuck am I doing?
#larissa weems x reader#larissa weems#lesbian#larissa x reader#wednesday netflix#gwendoline christie#principal larissa weems#principal weems#wlw fic#willow writes
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into you (l.at) TEASER
lee anton x fem reader | fluff | angst | smut | college!au | fake dating | ex friends to lovers | slowburn | mutual pining | anton is kind of an idiot.
teaser wc: 1.8k | full fic wc: est. 15k
RELEASE DATE: friday, march 1st
read full fic here
this is all too much. anton used to like you? how come he never said anything? you excused yourself from his parents, and made your way to the kitchen.
“hey mom, i’m a little tired so im gonna head upstairs.” you walk in to her drying and putting away dishes, while anton washes them. he looks over you, noticing the tone in your voice along with the look on your face wasn’t because of fatigue, but that something was wrong.
“okay baby, let me know if you need anything.” she walks to the end of the kitchen island where you were standing, giving you a hug goodnight. “anton, why don't you go with y/n upstairs? it's getting late, and I can finish up in the kitchen.” she turns from you to look at the boy scrubbing away at a pot, and he stops dead in his tracks at her words.
“i was just going to head back with my parents once we finished,” he starts, looking at your mom and then at you, not wanting to intrude. he did want to talk to you, but he didn’t want to be in your space if you didn't want him there.
“don't be silly, anton! you two are a couple and are old enough now, i don't have to separate you two” she laughs, and you and anton just stare at each other awkwardly. you were going to tell her to let it go, but because of the unique situation you two were in it was probably the best idea to follow your moms orders. you motion for him to follow you, you both saying goodnight to your mom and then to his parents. you’re walking towards the stairs to go to your room, when anton tells you that he’ll be back to get his bag out of his car.
while he grabs his things, you make your way up to your room. You leave the door open, just in case anton doesn't remember which room was yours. walking to your window, you open it and stick your head out so you can get some fresh air.
what a night, you’re thinking to yourself. you need to calm down. with what happened on monday and what antons parents were telling you earlier, you were just too in your head. too much was happening too fast. why was this affecting you so much? and with that you hear footsteps coming into your room and then a door closing.
“are you alright? you looked a little flushed downstairs” the soft voice calls to you, and you know that its anton.
you take a deep breath before turning to face him. “i'm fine. i am now, at least. I just kind of felt bad for lying right in my mom and your parents' faces. I had to get away from them” your voice is low while you speak, looking to the floor once again to avoid his eyes. he takes note of your body language, seeing that you’re a bit tense and awkward now but he doesn’t want to pry.
“If you want i can sleep on the floor,” he’s placing his bag on the chair by your desk, grabbing something to change into for bed.
“no, that's too uncomfortable. You can sleep on the bed” you say it in a way where its clear there's no room for debate, and he nods.
anton would never admit it to you, but he found you severely intimidating. even when you two were younger, he was always intimidated by you. you carried yourself well, you didn’t take bullshit from anyone, always got your way, and you were stubborn. he was surprised your personalities didn't clash, he felt like you wouldn't want to be friends with someone like him. but truthfully that's what brought you two together. it was like fire and ice, you were the fire and he was the ice to cool you down.
but with being the ice, he was too scared to touch you in fear that he would melt.
another week passes by, and you feel like you were going insane. You don't know what it is, but every time you see anton, your heart starts racing, your face heats up along with the rest of your body.
when he holds your hand or rests his hand on your thigh when you two were out with friends, you had to keep your composure to the best of your ability. especially when he would subconsciously graze his thumb across the back of your hand, the action small and going unnoticed to the naked eye, but feeling too intimate for you and you would pull your hand away.
the days that he would come over to your apartment or you would go to his dorm to hang out after classes, you found yourself feeling nervous. especially when you two were at your place, seeing him in your room and in your bed had you feeling like jelly. sometimes he would fall asleep before you, and you wouldn’t wake him up. It would be late, and you would feel bad for waking him up and making him go back to his dorm. you were comfortable enough around him anyways to tell him to move, and he never slept too close to you throughout those nights. a deep part of you wished he did, though. but you don't want to think about crossing that path yet.
a few more days passed, and on wednesday, you went with him to his swim practice so you two could go back to your apartment and order takeout once he was finished. you brought a book with you since you didn’t know much about swimming, and you wanted to keep yourself occupied while you waited.
an hour of practice goes by and lets just say, not a single page of the book you brought with you was read. not like you would be able to focus on reading anyways, seeing how he swam in the water was a lot more entertaining than you thought. along with how he looked when he pushed himself out of the water, full body on display. His broad shoulders, his toned arms and stomach, the droplets of water dripping from his hair down his back, the way he throws his head back to move his hair out of his face-
wait a damn minute.
you needed to leave, feeling hot suddenly. were you really sitting here thirsting over anton? Of course, you always found him attractive. you would be silly if you didn't. But you never had any thoughts about him. and you don't want right now, in the campus pool, to be where you start. You walk down the bleachers, trying to think of an excuse of why you’re leaving the building.
“y/n? you leaving?” anton catches you before you could find him, you turn around to see him speed walking towards you and you almost let out a giggle seeing he hasn't taken his goggles off.
“It’s just kind of humid in here. i'm gonna sit outside until you finish, okay?” you clutch your bag a bit tighter, him standing wet and shirtless in front of you is making you nervous. He’s peering down at you, smiling lightly before he lets you know he’ll be out in around 30 minutes.
you nearly trip on your way out, feeling refreshed once you finally escape the pool room air.
did you really want to date anton? you told yourself you didn't before, but now you weren't so sure. he was the full package, everything you could ask for in a guy. so there was really nothing stopping you. but you two were friends.
he also used to like you back in grade school. key word: used to. What if he completely got over you and wouldn’t even think about dating you now? this was a tough situation, and you don't know how much longer you could keep this up with repressed feelings.
after 10 more minutes of overthinking, you can feel a presence behind you so you quickly turn your body to see anton right behind you.
“you ready?” he’s looking down at you again, hair slightly covering his eyes because of the beanie he wore. his body once again covered up by the baggy hoodie along with the black sweatpants he wore. You would never be able to guess how built he really was under the clothes he chose to wear.
you realize you might be staring a little too hard for a little too long so you give him a nod. “yeah, let's go” and he’s taking you by the hand while you follow him to his car.
he drives you two to the nearest food place you guys could agree on. you two agree on getting wings for tonight, and then make your way to your apartment. once you enter, you see sky sitting in the living room. she gives you a look only you two would be able to understand, with anton right behind you.
sky greets you two, and anton greets her back while you take off your shoes and then make your way into the kitchen. you grab two sodas, and walk out to where anton was standing. he was usually a bit awkward around your apartment if you weren’t telling him where to go, too scared that he would touch something he shouldn’t.
following you to your room with the food, anton shuts the door softly behind him. the boy was already in comfortable clothes, taking a shower before he left the locker rooms after practice and made sure that he brought something he wouldn't be uncomfortable in. You were still wearing a pair of jeans and a cute crop top under a zip up hoodie.
“i'm gonna change in the bathroom, you can pull the food out and put something on the tv,” you tell the boy sitting on your bed, and he hums in response while you leave the room. walking over to the bathroom down the hall, you take this time to relax yourself.
you quickly change into a pair of shorts and an old tshirt, and you walk further down the hall to the living room to quickly talk to sky.
“are you fucking him tonight? let me know so i can put in my headpho- ow!” you pinched her arm before she could finish her sentence.
“i am not fucking him! i just came out here to tell you that i'm gonna talk to him about it”
“okay, but if there's a change of plans let me know!”
truthfully you were going to tell him about your feelings, just not tonight. maybe friday, you got invited to a party that sohee was throwing at his frat and you know that anton will be there too.
you walk back into your room now, seeing the food laid out and a movie ready for you as you get situated next to anton on your bed. he put on some action movie, which was a genre you both equally enjoyed. being around anton was comfortable. you two were able to sit in silence, laugh, and talk without any judgments.
This could either end really good or really, really bad.
A/N: excited to post this one, its not finished yet but its almost there! i got the idea for this fic from the proposal, one of my favorite movies. lmk what you guys think and if you want to be apart of the taglist :p
#riize#riize x reader#riize smut#anton riize#riize anton#riize imagines#anton x reader#anton smut#anton x reader smut#riize x reader smut#anton lee smut#anton imagines#toniiswrld
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|| Sunlight ||
Matt Murdock x GN!reader
Warnings: breakup angst, Matt sad, confused, and crying, 😭
I am working on WIPs but just bashed this out this afternoon, heh, sorry. 😔 Hope you enjoy and please reblog/comment on stuff you like, it makes me so happy, thank you so much! 💜
The morning is still cool, Matt's face is mostly covered with a veil of the morning shadow, the first visible curve of the sun only just starting to peek above the horizon as you sit on the roof together. You had both been up almost all night when you had said you wanted to talk to him, tell him you were going somewhere that he couldn't follow, out of the kitchen, out of New York. Out of the country entirely. And that you didn't want him to follow you, it wouldn't be fair on him.
The Devil ignored the pained sounds of his city only to listen to you break his heart. You had talked all night and he was in need of some air and space to process what you were saying.
You're asking him a question.
“Do you remember them, the sunrise and sunset?” you say softly, staring out over the twinkling grid of the city below.
It takes him a moment to answer, the silence between seeming to stretch on endlessly until he can swallow down the emotion and speak.
“Yeah, I think so. Sometimes it's hard to know if I'm really remembering how it was, or if my brain is just filling in the blanks.”
You take his hand in yours. How did you both end up here?
“Can I describe it to you?” you ask.
Matt tries his best to smile, to lie. Anything to make this easier.
“Please.” He says instead of anything else, instead of begging you to change your mind. He doesn't want to remember this sunrise, this beginning of the first day of many that he'll spend without you near. However much it hurts to hear your voice illustrate how the dark reds and purples are gradually giving way to burnt oranges, pale yellows, and lighter blues, how there are wispy trails of cloud scattered across the canvas of the wakening sky, he makes himself listen. Everything is ephemeral.
“I can’t decide if I like the sunrise or the sunset the most.” you quietly muse.
Matt only knows he prefers those days that were bookended by your presence. He vividly remembers the heat of the summer evenings and the sound of your laughter as he chased you around the apartment for a kiss after work, cold beers and cold fingers skating over warm skin and making you scream with the sudden shock of the contrast and then later, making you cry out his name for a different reason on the couch.
Or the simple taken-for-granted comfort of waking up on a fall morning with you right there beside him, pulling you closer and indulging himself by breathing in your scent and listening to the steady beat of your heart. He thinks about the future, the silence and emptiness that would fill the void left by you in his home. He doesn't know if he can stand it.
When you turn to look at him there's a glimmer from a tear hanging ready to fall from his lashes. All the beautiful colours of the sky reversed within its reflection before it rolled down his face. He had never expected to hear such clichéd words come from your lips - “it's not your fault” and “we just want different things” ring in his ears accompanied by the increasing noise of the waking city below. He never saw any of this coming. He wasn't looking for it, he thought you'd always be together. His guiding light. There was no warning, no noticeable change in your behaviour or the way in which you loved him.
And you had said that you still loved him. How could that make any sense when you were letting him go?
“You'll be alright, Matt. I know you.”
He sniffs, barely nodding at your attempt to comfort him. You did know him, and that's why he can't even try to persuade you not to leave. He couldn't stand to make you feel trapped and unhappy, but he was losing a limb, a piece of his soul. You were tearing yourself away and he could feel it physically hurt like a fresh, deep awful wound in his chest.
The strengthening heat of the sun's cheerful rays dilutes the warmth left on his skin from the touch of your hand. Already he mourns the memory of the softness of your cheek pressing against his, all traces of you fading fast as he hears the click of the front door closing. The sound of your heartbeat, one of the precious constants becoming more distant with every step as you walk away and take the sunlight out of his life.
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IF YOU WALK AWAY - T. KAULITZ
synopsis: tom has finally brought you to your breaking point, but once he makes a proposition that changes your relationship forever, will you be able to go through with leaving him?
content: angst
a/n: i hope you enjoy!!
"why can't you just listen to me tom, for once? i don't like them flirting with you, and i certainly don't like you fucking entertaining it, whilst i'm right next to you!" i shout across the room, palms flush against the counter, my breathing heavy as i become more and more frustrated.
this argument had been going on for at least a half hour now. tom had been doing an interview with tokio hotel, and as usual i came along, watching from the sidelines. each interview comes with signing the autographs of crazy fangirls, which i always dreaded. it wasn't tom that i didn't trust - it was them. but today, i came to the realisation that my doubts should’ve been placed on him way sooner. the way he had his hand on her shoulder, then flirted back with another girl, then had his eyes glued to another's cleavage, made me feel completely invisible. but, much to my surprise, he couldn't seem to understand where my anger was coming from, leading us to this point.
"they are my fans! what do you want me to do? you're acting like i'm cheating on you!" he shoots back, shaking his head and sighing heavily.
my mouth drops open at his cluelessness. "you can't be serious tom. i want you to have some respect for your girlfriend! is that so much to ask? and honestly, it wouldn't fucking surprise me if you had slept with someone else.” i fire back.
he pauses, a look of hurt washing over his face as he processes the allegation i have just made. "you really think that i'd cheat on you? do you not trust me at all?" he asks, clenching his jaw. whilst that was a strong accusation to make, the things i saw today made the thought no longer seem so crazy.
"what else am i supposed to think? the way you look at them, basically eye-fucking them, whilst i stand next to you. do you know how humiliating that is for me tom? do you have any fucking idea?"
"can you stop overreacting jesus christ?" he raises his voice, throwing his arms into the air. "i don't know how many fucking times we will go through this, i'm with you not them. why do you let the smallest fucking things bother you? i'm tired of having this conversation with you when you blow literally everything way out of proportion."
“you really don’t get it, do you?” i scoff, clenching my jaw as any patience i had is now lost.
“if i had given you a reason to act like this then yeah, i would! but you’re acting out over me interacting with fans! do you realise how ridiculous you sound?” he responds, moving closer towards me, testing the waters as to whether i will blow up further at him attempting to near our proximity, or allow him to touch me.
“so flirting with other girls is just a daily interaction, huh? something you do so nonchalantly it doesn’t even cross your fucking mind, until i call you out and you act like i’m some crazy, controlling girlfriend who can’t handle you speaking to other girls? i won’t have you turn this shit around on me tom, you’re the one that’s fucked up here!” i yell, pointing at his chest and hitting it slightly, my breathing heavy as i anticipate his response.
he sighs, accepting the small hit and looking into my eyes, his still angry, but he doesn’t fire back. instead, he takes a deep breath before sternly speaking, his voice harsh yet composed. “look, can you just calm down? i need to cool off, we can talk about this when you’ve stopped acting so irrational.” he slowly replies, turning around and beginning to walk towards the couch.
"irrational? fuck you tom. you know what, if you want to flirt with them, i'm not gonna stop you. i'm not gonna fight for you anymore. go ahead and sleep with them. do whatever, i'm done." i shout, walking to our shared bedroom and angrily grabbing a suitcase before he can respond, throwing my clothes in there, his footsteps soon following.
"what? no, are you crazy? baby stop, you're not thinking straight. i'm sorry okay?" he pleads, placing his hand on my shoulder and attempting to pull me into a hug.
"get off of me!" i say, tearing myself out of his grasp and continuing to pack everything i can find into my suitcase. whilst i would love to accept his embrace, melting into it as i usually would after an argument, i can't this time.
"stop, please. can we just...talk about this? don't leave me, i love you-"
"no you don't tom! if you loved me, you wouldn't flirt with people right in front of me, and you'd understand when i confront you about it! look just, don't make this any harder than it has to be." i interrupt, my voice trailing off as tears begin to cloud my vision, threatening to spill out at any second. i zip up the suitcase, biting my tongue to stop my emotions getting the better of me, and turn towards the door.
"fuck- can you just... slow down, please? i can't lose you my love. i won't be anything without you." his voice is becoming shaky now as he stands in front of the doorway of our bedroom, blocking my way.
"tom move. it's over." i say bluntly, tears rolling down my cheeks as i tightly clutch the suitcase.
"no! no. i'm not giving up on us." he shakes his head, not moving and instead staring into my eyes pleadingly, searching for any hint that i am changing my mind.
"you're making this so much more difficult." i whisper, unable to control the tears as they roll down my cheeks, dripping onto the floor.
"what because i want to fix this? why are you giving up so easily, you know that we can move past this, but you're not even gonna fucking try? this is such bullshit and you know it." he replies, his voice wavering. he is becoming angry, losing his ability to talk calmly as 2 adults would, his hopeless begging now turning into bursts of unanticipated rage.
“you didn’t care this much 5 minutes ago. why now? just get out of my way.” i demand, becoming tired of his desperate pleas to stop me. my mind is made, and though i wish things were different, i know that i can’t let him win.
shaking my head, i manage to push past him, bolting for the door. my hand hesitantly reaches the handle, about to turn it, before his voice stops me in my tracks.
"if you walk out that door," he begins, as i turn to face him. his eyes are glossy, eyebrows furrowed. he pauses, almost debating on speaking his mind. he takes a deep breath, before continuing. "then i don't want to see you again."
my stomach turns, feeling as if i have been punched in the gut, because those words have the same impact. my mouth opens to say something, but i cannot find the right words. instead, i stand there stunned, my hand still fixed on the door handle. tom looks at me in a way that i have never seen before, his lips pursed together as he blinks slowly, tears falling down his soft skin once he reopens his eyes.
"you don't mean that." i reply, my voice coming out as a whisper. i hope that he is bluffing, that he is saying those words just to get me to stay, somewhere in my mind convincing me that he would never leave me - for good. however the way his gaze refuses to falter, his beautiful eyes staring into mine, tells me that he is telling the truth.
"if you leave, then i can't see you again." he re-iterates, his voice breaking. his mind is working against his heart, he knows that he cannot live without me, but is willing to say literally anything to make me stay, no matter how irrational.
"fuck." i mutter, moving my hand away from the handle and instead roughly slamming it against the door. my eyes squeeze shut, lips quivering as i shake my head, sliding down the door until my body collapses there, sobbing as i cannot bring myself to leave, no matter how hard i try. the idea of never seeing him again makes my heart ache, the possibility of it becoming a reality terrifying me so much that i cannot even think of walking away anymore.
"why do i have to love you so much? it makes this shit so much harder." i ask, looking upwards as my eyes meet with his. i am angry, confused, sad, every emotion courses through my mind, but most of all, i am in love. it is the thing that makes me act so crazy, that makes me lose all my morals. but i would lose everything all over again if it meant that i could be with tom.
his face softens as he slowly approaches me, sitting down beside me and grabbing my face in his hands, holding it so gently as if it could break. slowly, he begins kissing the tears from my face, one by one, not letting anymore fall as his lips touch my cheeks repeatedly, replacing the bitterness with his warm kiss, until they are no longer falling.
"i love you." is all he says, caressing my cheek with his thumb, staring into my eyes lovingly, his still bloodshot from the tears he shed.
"my heart hurts." i begin, placing my hands over his. "but i'll never be able to stop it from loving you."
requests are open! keep sending them in!!
#tom kaulitz#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz angst#kaulitz#tom kaulitz fluff#angst#bill kaulitz#tokiohotel#kaulitz twins#tom kaulitz smut
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Fukushu
The hitman who you met one New Year's eve promised you he'd be back, you just didn't think he'd be coming to stay.
A follow up to New Year's cheer, part of Bangtan Christmas 2022.
Pairing: Seokjin x f! reader
Genre: Assassin Seokjin, smut
Rating: 18+, minors dni
Warnings: Sex, swearing, mentions of criminal activity
Word count: 5k
You love waking up on spring mornings like this one, where the air is cool and the leaves are dripping, laden with dewdrops. The mountain air is bracing, you take in a deep breath and close your eyes as you go out into your courtyard.
When you open your eyes again, the serenity of your morning is broken by the unexpected sound of footsteps, then the appearance of a man.
As far as unexpected visitors go, he’s better looking than most.
He’s tall, with shoulders broad enough to block out the sun, and a face that really, honestly, truly, could be in magazines.
Unfortunately, in the line of work he’s in, he’s more likely to be in a CIRO dossier than a fashion tome.
You search the recesses of your mind for the name he told you that New Year’s Eve when you first met.
‘Seokjin,’ you say, pleasant with the memory of the night you shared. ‘What brings you back here?’
He smiles at you, beautiful, blinding.
‘You,’ he replies, ‘of course. I told you I’d be back to see you.’
‘The other thing is,’ he says, continuing, leaning closer like he’s confiding a secret. ‘I’ve been shot.’
***
You grumble to yourself as you set dishes on the table for breakfast, making sure to let your unexpected guest know how distinctly unhumourous you’d found his attempt at humour.
Seokjin had been unreasonably amused by your panic and concern at his announcement, had allowed you to pat him down for injuries before eventually confessing.
‘Of course I went to the hospital before I came here,’ he’d told you, just as you were searching for your first aid kit.
He’d raised an eyebrow at you, the wickedness of his humour unfortunately not detracting from his frankly devastating attractiveness.
‘You’ve very capable, but it is the 21st century,’ he’d pointed out. ‘There’s no substitute for good medical care.’
You’ve never wished so much to be affiliated with the yakuza who run your small town.
See how amused Seokjin would be with a blade to his throat.
You eye your chopsticks thoughtfully, and Seokjin says, from where he’s sitting at your table behind you, ‘You look very beautiful. I thought you’d dressed up specifically for New Year’s eve but you’re just as enticing in those tiny shorts you’re wearing.’
Belatedly, you remember you’ve yet to change out of your sleepwear.
You glance down at your thin t-shirt and decide to brazen it out.
Before you can turn around, Seokjin says, ‘that sleep shirt is so transparent you might as well be nude.’
‘Thank you for noticing,’ you say, dry.
You cross your arms pointedly as you walk past him to get changed.
He doesn’t even to pretend to avert his eyes, the bastard.
***
‘How long are you staying?’ you ask, after breakfast.
Seokjin sips his tea, casual. ‘How long am I welcome for?’
‘You actually outstayed your welcome long ago, five minutes after you got here.’
He ignores you. ‘I need somewhere to lay low, just until the heat dies down a bit. I thought a week, maybe two, max?’
He waits until you’re looking at him.
‘If that’s not ok, I can go. I don’t want to inconvenience you.’
You shrug. ‘I could use the company.’
‘Seriously, though,’ Seokjin says. He’s looking at you intently now, gauging your reactions like they matter to him. ‘If you want me out I’ll go right now.’
You say, ‘It’s fine, Seokjin.’
You hesitate. ‘I’m sort of dating someone right now, he stops by a couple times a week.’
‘Is he pretty like me?’ Seokjin asks.
‘He’s prettier than you,’ you say.
‘I find that difficult to believe,’ Seokjin says, tetchy.
You shrug. ‘You’re the one who asked.’
Seokjin mutters something you don’t quite catch, but it sounds pouty.
You glance at your phone. ‘Hey, I’ve got a delivery coming into the bar this afternoon, I should probably head to town. Will you be ok here?’
You show Seokjin around your place before you leave, tell him to make himself at home. You haven’t got a spare room, but you set up a bed roll for him in the annexe between your bathroom and living room.
‘I won’t be back until late, ok? Call me if you need anything.’
Seokjin’s already looking through your stash of games. ‘Sure,’ he mumbles, distractedly.
You roll your eyes. ‘There’s food. See you later.’
***
The bar’s quiet even for a Tuesday, you end up closing five minutes early to head home. You take the route you always take, down along the stream that leads to the back of your house.
You’re closing the gate behind you, fastening the latch, when Seokjin’s voice makes you jump.
‘Shit, you scared me!’ you mutter, leaning against the gate.
He steps out of the shadows. ‘Did you walk back? It’s so late.’
‘This is early for me,’ you say, rubbing the back of your neck, yawning. ‘I thought you’d be asleep.’
Seokjin follows you back into the house.
‘Hungry? Want noodles?’ you offer, getting a pot out of the rack.
‘I’ll make them for you,’ he says.
Surprised, you watch as he gets to work, boiling the water, dropping your noodles into the pot.
‘I’ll get changed,’ you say.
You return to a bowl of steaming noodles, a set table, a mug of tea.
‘Thanks,’ you tell Seokjin.
He sits at the table with you.
The moon shines in through your kitchen window, reminding you of the last time you saw him. You catch him staring at you.
‘It was a full moon on New Year’s eve wasn’t it?’ asks Seokjin.
You smile, softened by the late hour, the warmth filling your belly, the very beautiful man sitting across from you watching you eat a meal he cooked.
‘It was,’ you agree.
You remember the way he looked walking away from you in the cold just past the darkest part of the night, the footsteps he’d left in the snow.
Seokjin reaches over, pushes your mug towards you.
‘Drink,’ he urges.
You take a big gulp of tea, get up to put your bowl in the sink.
‘Go to bed,’ Seokjin says. ‘I’ll wash up.’
‘Just leave it, Seokjin.’
He hums, turns his back to you. His shoulders are broader than you remember, his body lean and long.
You realise he’s watching you look at him, reflected in the glass of the window.
He laughs softly, and you expect him to tease you, but all he says is, ‘Go to sleep. You look tired.’
You go to your room, find your bed roll prepared, quilt arranged neatly, pillow plumped.
You lay your head down and listen to the sounds of Seokjin clearing up in the kitchen.
Eventually, you sleep.
***
You glance out of the window at the sound of the approaching bike.
‘It’s the postman,’ you tell Seokjin, sat at your breakfast table. ‘Stay out of sight.’
Seokjin raises his eyebrow at you. ‘Just tell him I’m your brother.’
‘We don’t look anything alike.’
‘Different fathers?’ suggests Seokjin.
‘I don’t have time for a backstory now,’ you grumble.
‘Maybe an ex-husband?’
You scowl at him and yank open the door, stepping out to greet the postman at the bottom of the steps into the courtyard.
When you get back, post in hand, Seokjin’s frowning into the full length mirror by the door.
‘Do you really think we don’t look alike?’ he asks.
You stand side by side with him.
‘Do you really want to pretend to be brother and sister?’ you ask.
He wrinkles his nose. ‘Probably not. We’re definitely more like exes. Although why would anyone break up with me?’
‘Don’t know, maybe they’re not into handsome men,’ you tease.
Seokjin nods, seriousness in his eyes. ‘Too intimidating?’
You snort and start opening your post.
You frown at the bill you’re just received and shove it back into the envelope.
Seokjin’s been reading over your shoulder.
‘That’s a lot of zeroes,’ he remarks.
‘My dad had a lot of debt before he died.’ You shrug. ‘At least he owed it to the bank and not yakuza.’
You change the subject.
‘I’m getting another delivery today, I have to go in soon.’
‘Can I go with you? I can help.’
‘You good with a ledger?’ you ask. ‘You can help me with the quarterly budget.’
***
You’ve unpack your delivery, arrange things in the store room, make sure your bottles are topped up, and the dishwasher unloaded and then go to check on Seokjin.
He’s sitting behind your desk, frowning over the glasses he put on that you’re convinced are an affectation rather than a necessity.
‘What is this column?’ he asks.
You pick up the stack of receipts you’ve been meaning to sort out and start marking them.
‘What do you think?’ you ask.
Every business in the area makes regular payments to the yakuza, you’re lucky that money is all they want from you. As a single woman with no family nearby, it could be much worse.
Seokjin goes back to staring at your accounts.
‘It’s going to take you years on years to pay off that debt,’ he says, quietly. ‘Especially when half your earnings go on protection money.’
He’s not telling you anything you don’t already know.
You draw an ‘X’ on a receipt in black marker, bold, stark, before you reply.
‘My father went into debt paying medical bills for my mother’s care,’ you tell Seokjin. ‘He died paying it off. The bar is all he had left.’
You place the receipts on the small coffee table in your office.
‘I have a few things to take care of before we open,’ you tell Seokjin.
You smile at him, hoping to lighten the mood. ‘If you find a miracle in the accounts, be sure to let me know. Otherwise I can go back to looking at them tomorrow.’
The night’s lively, Wednesdays usually are, especially around payday.
You’re preparing more sake for a large group in the back when Seokjin emerges from the office, apron on like he works for you.
You give him a bemused look.
‘Want to help me serve this?’ you ask, joking.
Seokjin picks up the heavy tray without so much as a flinch.
You try not to stare at the way his forearms are flexed, hands gripping the sides of the tray. You have a sudden flash of what his hands might look like on your hips.
Seokjin smirks at you. ‘I’m stronger than I look,’ he says.
‘Weren’t you shot?’ you mutter.
He ignores you. ‘Shall I take this round the back?’ he asks.
***
Turns out Seokjin is also a shameless flirt.
You’ve always been aware of how attractive he is, how could you not?
The memory of him stepping into your bar, ducking under the noren, tossing back whiskey and dragging you out with him still sends a thrill through you.
It’d been one of the hottest nights of your life.
Seokjin pours out wine for the three women out for after work drinks, generous with his measures, with a flourish you have to admit is charming.
His already short sleeves are rolled up, and you think at some point he’d found time to tighten the apron around his waist.
He’s flushed from the heat and the alcohol, the back of his neck and the tips of his ears red, but he still looks good enough to eat.
He leans over you to reach fresh napkins. His eyes meet yours knowingly.
‘Your pours are very generous,’ you point out.
You think you sound neutral, but he laughs.
‘I was a bartender for a while, on and off,’ he says.
He’s got the audacity to wink at you. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Jin,’ calls one of the women, waving him over.
Seokjin smiles. ‘Coming,’ he replies smoothly.
‘It’s unprofessional to flirt with customers,’ you point out.
‘And that’s why you don’t earn much in tips,’ Seokjin shoots back.
He lifts another bottle of white out of the crate and gets back to serving.
***
You lock the front door of the bar and turn back to where Seokjin is sprawled out across a bench.
‘Come on, big boy, let’s go home.’
He smiles at you, tipsy.
‘I made a lot of tips,’ he says, proudly.
You bite back a smile. ‘You did.’
You refrain from pointing out that he also drank an entire bottle of imported Italian wine.
You lift his arm up over your shoulders, help to steady him.
‘I can walk,’ he tells you.
‘I just don’t want you to fall into the stream, ok?’ you coax, holding on to his arm.
He hums as you walk back up the hill to your house.
‘Those women liked me a lot,’ he says.
‘You’re pretty,’ you agree.
‘I’m funny, too,’ he points out.
‘I don’t like dad jokes that much,’ you say, lightly.
He scoffs. ‘Yukino said she’ll stop by this weekend to see me.’
‘Sure.’
‘She’s pretty.’
‘I’m sure you’ll make beautiful babies together,’ you tease.
Seokjin considers this as you approach your house.
‘Can you help me get undressed?’ he asks. ‘My shoulder hurts. But don’t look too much, I’m expensive.’
You roll your eyes but you stop in front of him anyway.
‘Kneel down, you’re too tall.’
Carefully, you stretch his t-shirt over his arm, tug it upwards over his head.
He stays perfectly still as you slip his arm into his pyjama shirt.
You can feel his eyes on you as you pull the front panels of his shirt together and start buttoning. You can feel your face getting warm under his gaze.
Your fingertips brush the smooth skin of his torso as you fasten his shirt.
Seokjin licks his lips but says nothing.
‘There,’ you say. If your voice is a little higher pitched than usual, he at least grants you the kindness of not commenting on it.
‘Good night, Seokjin.’
‘Good night, Y/N.’
***
You wake to the sounds of crockery in the kitchen, the smell of coffee.
You pull on your robe and step outside, smile already forming on your face.
It’s not Seokjin.
It’s Haru, the man you’ve been dating on and off.
His face breaks into a smile when he sees you.
‘I was trying not to wake you,’ he says, pulling you into a hug.
‘I sleep light,’ you say. You take the mug he hands you gratefully.
Then you remember.
‘Haru —-‘
You’re interrupted by the arrival of Kim Seokjin.
Shirtless even though he’s been fully clothed the entire time he’s been staying with you.
Pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips.
He smiles at you, acts like he does this all the time.
‘Got coffee for me?’ he asks, intimate, low.
The shit-stirring weasel.
You want to stab chopsticks through his gunshot wound.
He turns a little, and the tattooed ‘7’ on his back makes you vow to find seven ways to torture him before you kill him.
Haru’s looking at you.
‘This is Seokjin,’ you say, using his government name to show the shit-stirring weasel how serious you are. ‘He’s an ex-boyfriend.’
You say, sweetly, ‘He just needs a place to stay for a few days. He’s between jobs. Can’t make the rent.’
Seokjin puts out a hand for Haru to shake. ‘I’m a policeman, I got injured and Y/N said the mountain air might help me recuperate.’
You lock eyes with Seokjin, unable to believe his colossal stupidity.
The heat in your gaze makes Seokjin avert his eyes. You can see the exact moment he spots the tattoo across Haru’s forearm.
His eyebrows rise.
‘Of course,’ Seokjin amends, ‘I work for the KNPA, and we have no jurisdiction here.’
You’re already pulling Haru away, leading him out into the courtyard.
‘Get dressed, will you,’ you snap over your shoulder at Seokjin as you leave.
***
By the time you get back inside, the coffee’s cold and the kitchen is unoccupied.
It’d taken you a while to convince Haru that Seokjin was just an idiot, longer to convince him you weren’t sleeping together.
You lift your hand as Seokjin re-enters the kitchen.
‘Do not,’ you snap, ‘even think about talking to me. I will castrate you.’
Seokjin’s mouth snaps shut. He walks over to the stove.
You get up and unceremoniously leave the kitchen.
Half an hour later, you’ve just about decided it would be too much effort to torture him when you kill him. There’s a quiet tap on the door of your bedroom.
You slide it open to see a tray set with breakfast - pillowy looking french toast and strawberries, fresh coffee.
Under the coffee, a note written in a jagged scrawl that’s exactly how you’d imagine his writing to be.
I’m sorry.
You look up as Seokjin approaches you.
Wisely, he stays out of arm’s reach.
‘I put extra powdered sugar on the french toast,’ he tells you. ‘I can cut it for you if you want.’
You watch as he sits cross-legged, cuts the french toast into bite-sized squares.
‘Shall I feed you?’ he asks, solicitous.
You grab the fork from him.
He eyes you uneasily, moves the knife away from you.
‘I didn’t know your boyfriend was yakuza.’
‘We’re not really dating.’
‘Strategically, it’s a good move,’ he says, like he’s pleased with your ingenuity.
‘We need a better cover story than you’re my deadbeat cop ex who got injured and are in the mountains to recuperate,’ you say.
You open your mouth, and Seokjin offers you another morsel of french toast.
As you chew, he picks up a strawberry, plucks the stem off.
‘I won’t be here much longer,’ he says.
He looks at you. ‘There’s a train out next week that I have a ticket for.’
‘Oh.’
Seokjin feeds you the strawberry, the tips of his fingers brushing your lips.
‘Stop feeding me,’ you protest.
You don’t sound convincing, even to yourself.
Seokjin’s thumb strokes over your bottom lip. He watches, eyes darkening as you part your lips.
He cups your jaw, holds you still as he leans in.
‘I want a kiss,’ he murmurs, lips barely a centimeter from yours.
‘Take it,’ you reply.
He’s gentle, slow, with you as he kisses you. He tastes like powdered sugar and mint, he smells of your shampoo.
He tilts his head, parts his lips, murmurs his approval when you part yours.
‘I’m glad you broke up,’ he tells you as you pull away.
‘We weren’t really dating,’ you point out.
‘Hmm? What were you doing, then?’ Seokjin asks.
‘Just —-‘
Seokjin says, voice silky, ‘Just what, baby?’
He’s still leaning over you, too close to do anything but touch you.
It’s funny, you’re so accustomed to hearing shit talking from him that you’ve never really noticed how sexy he sounds.
His voice is low, a purr in your ear.
‘Cat got your tongue?’ he asks.
His warm lips press against the skin of your cheek, his hands splay over the small of your back, and he pulls you into his lap with a sigh.
His hand kneads your ass under your robe.
‘Look at this ass,’ he says. ‘The number of times I’ve wanted to spank you for the things that come out of your mouth.’
You’re scrambling for something to say, but the first sound that leaves your mouth is a whine.
Seokjin laughs. ‘I don’t think you want to know how many times I’ve thought about that New Year’s eve.’
His hand works over the flesh of your ass, lifting you over the bulge in his crotch.
He mouths over the skin of your neck as his hands make slow passes over your ass, sliding over your thighs.
He moves up your thigh, tugs your panties to one side.
He presses his knuckles against your core, and you whine again.
‘Tell me,’ he says, conversational, fingers slipping tantalisingly close to your entrance. ‘Have you thought about me?’
You’re holding your breath, waiting for him to touch you.
He slides a finger into you, a slow drag that makes you moan.
He nuzzles your neck, nudges your chin up so your neck’s bared to him.
His breath is hot on your skin as he works you with his hand.
He groans as your hand finds its way under his pants. You curl your fingers around the stiff weight of his cock.
Well, you try to.
He’s thick.
Seokjin hisses in a breath as you squeeze just under his head.
His fingers are still moving inside you, stroking, scissoring.
He tilts his head back, grunting a bit as you stroke him.
There’s a deep flush in his chest now, heat rushing to his neck, the tips of his ears.
He’s beautiful like this, eyes intense on you, making soft sounds as you touch him.
He’s slipped a hand under your top, lifted it up, baring your tits to him. He cups your breasts, rolling your nipples with his thumb.
Your breathing quickens, your hand tightens around his cock, and he lowers his head, pressing into you. Your hand comes up, braces on his shoulder, and he groans.
He leans closer, presses you back into your bedroll, settles himself between your legs.
He rolls his hips against yours, the head of his cock nudging you.
The weight of him feels exquisite.
He settles a forearm beside you, propping himself up. He rolls his hips again, and your thighs part so he can fit better.
‘Seokjin –’
‘There you are,’ he says, quietly. ‘I was wondering when I’d see you soft like this again.’
You smile. ‘If you wanted me to be soft you should have showed me your cock sooner.’
He laughs, grinds against you, making you moan. ‘Take these panties off and I’ll show you.’
You lift your hips into his, and he drags your panties down your thighs, squeezes your ass on the way.
He presses a kiss to your forehead as he nudges in. ‘Tell me to stop if it’s too much,’ he says.
He’s gentle, slow, letting you adjust to him as he enters you.
‘More,’ you murmur into his ear, and he groans.
He kisses you again when he’s in all the way.
‘You take me so well,’ he praises.
Pinned underneath him like this, you realise he’s much bigger than you remembered.
He’s so long that his feet hit the door to your tiny bedroom. His shoulders and chest, up close like this, are big enough to stop you from seeing anything but him.
He’s overwhelming, and he fits inside you so snugly you can barely take a breath.
You move your hips, trying to get comfortable, and he stills.
‘Are you ok? Is this ok?’
His voice is strained.
‘I’m ok,’ you assure him. ‘You’re a lot, Seokjin.’
He sounds amused. ‘You can take a lot of me, can’t you?’
He circles his hips, pulling out, rocking into you, slow.
‘You feel so good,’ he tells you. ‘Can I move?’
You grab onto his shoulders as he thrusts.
You’re so wet the slide is easy. He moves, and the drag of his cock against your walls makes you tremble with pleasure.
Seokjin strokes your hair, murmurs praise to you as he moves his hips. You don’t catch all of it over your own moaning but it’s enough to make you feel safe, secure.
You don’t say but he knows when you’re coming, your body tightening around his. He catches your lips with his own, knits his fingers through yours, and says your name quietly, fervently, as he reaches his own release.
Afterward, you float in a pleasured haze as he gets a washcloth to clean you both up. He doesn’t bother putting a shirt back on, and truthfully, you don’t think that’s anything to complain about.
***
Seokjin’s got his plush lips against your cunt, you’re most of the way to coming, and he’s acting like he could keep going forever.
He laps at your cunt, tongue flat against your slit, moaning like he loves the taste of you.
The moon’s hanging high in the sky, you can’t see it but you can see the luminous beam of moonlight across the wall opposite you.
You look down at Seokjin’s beautiful face between your thighs as he licks you out, and the pleasure coils, ramping up with every flick of his tongue against your sensitive clit.
Your nipples are hard, your breasts swollen from Seokjin’s big hands touching you.
He parts you with his thumbs, seals his mouth over your clit, and your leg kicks out, flat, as you come.
Seokjin licks you clean, eyes closing. His hand’s fisted over his cock, even in your pleasure you can see the gleam of pre-cum smeared over his tip.
‘Get up here,’ you say, your voice a rasp because you’ve spent most of the day with his dick down your throat.
Goddamn, Seokjin doesn’t just look exquisite, he also tastes so good you could swallow him down all day.
Seokjin’s hand knits in your hair, gentle. His voice is low, husky.
‘Can you take me again? Are you sore?’
‘I can take you, Seokjin,’ you promise, legs already spreading.
His hand grips your thigh, tight.
‘You look so hot spreading for me like that.’
He’s learned how to fuck you now, just like you’ve learned how to take him. You’ve learned how good the burn is if he slides in just right, and he’s learned the angles to fuck you to hit you in places that make your back arch and your toes curl.
Seokjin’s thrusting into you now, the push pull maddening when you just want him deeper. Harder. Longer.
He grips your ass, tight, and pulls you down on his cock. He comes hard on a deep thrust, gasping your name, grinding into you.
He pulls you into his chest as he lays on his back, panting.
‘Why haven’t we been doing this all this time?’ he asks, with the audacity to sound annoyed with you.
‘Maybe because you’re annoying?’ you mumble, rolling over onto your front, facing away from his stunning face.
A moment later his hand lands on your ass. He squeezes, then his palm lands on your ass with a slap.
The sound of his hand on you resonates through the room.
You turn to him, outraged.
He’s ready, the asshole, catching your hands, holding you pinned so you can’t touch him.
You struggle for a bit but he’s much stronger than you’d reckoned.
Finally, you slump against him.
‘Not fair,’ you complain.
‘Didn’t you like it?’ he asks, feigning innocence.
‘No.’
‘Really?’ Seokjin asks.
He lets go of your wrists, presses his lips over the marks he’s made on your skin.
‘I’m sorry. If you don’t like it I won’t do it again.’
You’re oddly disappointed.
Seokjin gives you a knowing smile.
‘Anytime you change your mind, let me know, ok? I’ll spank you anyday.’
You don’t grant him the satisfaction of a reaction.
***
Seokjin’s walking home with you after a night at the bar, humming a tune under his breath.
He’s got an arm around your shoulders, you can’t remember when he started doing it but you like the feel of it.
‘I’m leaving tomorrow,’ he says.
He’s told you a few times already, it wasn’t like you hadn’t been expecting it.
You want to know more, to ask the questions on your tongue.
Where are you going?
Will you be back?
But that would mean showing vulnerability, and you’re not sure about that.
I mean, it’s one thing to cry on his cock, and another to talk about how fond you’ve grown of his company.
Because you are fond of him, even if he has a weaselly side.
You realise he’s looking at you.
‘If anything happens after I’m gone, if you need help, let me know,’ he says.
‘I’ll miss you,’ you blurt out.
Seokjin’s expression changes, and you realise you’ve misunderstood.
‘I mean, if the people who shot me come looking for me, you should let me know,’ he says.
The carefulness of his tone makes your face heat.
God, you’re an idiot.
You’re reeling at your gaffe, your skin crawling with embarrassment.
You can’t look at him.
‘Of course,’ you say. ‘I mean, I’m not going to stick my neck out for you. Even if you have a big dick.’
Seokjin says, seriously, ‘It’s the biggest around.’
‘It’s a fucking whale,’ you agree.
You both laugh.
You’ve reached your house.
‘Good night, Seokjin,’ you say. You muster your courage, smile like you mean it. ‘You still owe me a bottle of whiskey.’
Seokjin says, ‘Thank you for letting me stay. I — I appreciate it.’
You nod, smile. ‘See you in the morning.’
***
When you wake up, Seokjin’s already awake, rustling in the kitchen.
To your surprise, he’s already fully dressed. You hadn’t been expecting him to leave until the afternoon.
‘I thought I’d leave a little earlier,’ he tells you, passing you a mug of coffee.
You try to hide your disappointment.
‘Sure,’ you say, going for cheerful, not quite achieving it but you think you’re close.
‘I really do appreciate everything you’ve helped me with,’ he says, kind.
Formal.
He’s distancing himself from you now, it stings but at least he’s being honest.
‘I’m glad I could help,’ you say.
You reach for a hug, and if you bury your face in his chest a little to smell him one last time you’ll never admit it.
He looks like he’s about to say something, looking down at you, but instead he steps back, bows very formally at you and then he’s gone, walking out the kitchen door through the courtyard.
***
You’re polishing glasses as you prepare to open the bar, when the door swings open.
You’re already calling out a greeting when you look up and see who it is.
You have the oddest sense of deja vu.
The tall man who’s just walked in smiles at you, and he’s so handsome your breath catches in your throat.
‘What — what are you doing here?’ you ask.
‘I came back to ask if you wanted to come with me,’ Seokjin says.
He tilts his head at you. ‘I was going to go to Sao Paolo.’
You’re working hard to stop the smile blooming across your face.
‘I’ve never been,’ you say, casual.
‘I think you’d look good in a bikini,’ Seokjin says, without missing a beat. ‘Or nothing.’
You’re considering this as Seokjin takes a seat at the bar in front of you.
He leans his forearms on the bar.
‘I got as far as the train station,’ Seokjin says. ‘Then I had to come back.’
He smiles wryly.
‘Turns out I like your face better than mine.’
You blink.
‘We don’t have to go to Sao Paolo—‘ Seokjin begins.
You cut him off with a kiss.
‘Yes,’ you breathe. ‘Let’s go.’
©hamsterclaw 2023
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﹅ 𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗰 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻; 𝗵𝘂𝗵 𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻
﹅ summary — behind closed doors, yunjin makes you feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. in public, not so much. what happens when you’ve finally had enough?
﹅ content — toxic relationship, angst, slight abuse, manipulation, idol!au
﹅ word count — 2.7k
﹅ a/n — aaa idk why but i'm not satisfied with this, but i still wanted to post something while i worked on the produce48 fic (which is coming next !)
"…on, I'm already late." I groaned, rolling over into the covers. "I'm serious, Y/N. Get up." I blinked groggily, opening my eyes to see Yunjin standing over me, her irritation evident as she squinted her eyes at me. "Why do you do this every day? You know the routine; you leave before me, and I walk out afterward so the paparazzi won't suspect anything. It shouldn't have to be this difficult."
"Well, it's 9 am right now." I rolled over to check the time on the clock. "Of course, it would be difficult. Not all of us are early birds like you." I sat up and rested my face in my palms, trying to calm my heart from being woken up so abruptly. I felt clothes hitting my side and looked up to see Yunjin picking my clothes from the floor before throwing them toward me.
"Five minutes or I'm sending you out of the door, clothed or not." I watched as she took a seat on the end of the bed, toying with her watch.
"I don't get why it's such a big deal if they see us together. The paparazzi probably think we're just friends regardless but even so, why does it matter?" She scoffed, shaking her head as her lips twitched upwards.
"Listen, Y/N. I love you, but you know how ruthless the media can be. Don't you care how they'd treat me if they found out about us?" I nodded, chewing on the inside of my lip. "I love you, okay? Don't forget that." She took her face in her hands and gently pressed a kiss to my lips before stepping back with an expecting look on her face.
"I love you too."
"I'm not asking you to believe me, but I'm telling the truth!" Daeun sighed, side-stepping a scooter that was barreling down the sidewalk.
"I'm not calling you a liar. It's just that we've known each other for four years, Y/N. Do you expect to convince me that you've been dating 'the' Huh Yunjin?" She furrowed her eyebrows, shrugging her shoulders in doubt. I opened the door to the coffee shop, feeling the cool air wash over me.
"Fine, let's just drop it." I walked into the shop and pointed at a booth for Daeun to take as I ordered our drinks. "I'll take one large iced sweet tea and one medium iced coffee." I heard a crowd of voices behind me as I was swiping my card, and I turned around to see Yunjin walking into the shop, the paparazzi having enough decency to wait outside for her.
"Could I get a aurora chamomile relaxer, please?" I smiled, remembering when she would repeatedly ask me to pick up that specific drink from the shop.
"Jinnie, hi." I smiled at her, happy to finally see her somewhere else other than her apartment.
"Hi?" She responded with a puzzled expression, barely sparing me a glance before turning to take a seat at the chairs in front of the counter.
"Wait," I grabbed her arm to get her attention again, and she jerked her arm out of my grasp, almost sending me to the floor.
"Don't grab me like that." She spat, her features morphing into disgust as she looked at me. I stood there in shock, my hand still extended toward her. I heard cameras start clicking from outside the shop, and I felt my stomach twist, quickly brushing past her to head to Daeun’s booth. As I walked by, I saw her expression change to one of concern, her hand reaching out to comfort me before she pulled away, glancing up at the cameras outside.
"Y/N, what the fuck was that?" She exclaimed, her eyes darting between Yunjin and me.
"I'm… I'm not sure. I thought…" I stuttered, still feeling a bit dizzy from that interaction.
"Order number 56!" Daeun took a deep breath before patting my shoulder with a sympathetic expression and standing up to grab the drinks. I glanced toward Yunjin and barely caught her eyes darting away from me before we could even make eye contact. When Daeun returned with the cups, I sat quietly and sipped my tea until the sound of the doorbell and paparazzi yelling snapped me out of it. I watched as Daeun began to open her mouth and quickly cut her off.
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut this short. I'm not feeling very well." I stated, walking away before she could respond. I could feel a knot rising in my throat, and I briskly started walking to my apartment, throwing open the door once I arrived and collapsing on the couch. I laid there and stared at the ceiling for what felt like hours, the feelings of humiliation and embarrassment terrorizing my thoughts.
I woke up to my phone buzzing endlessly, and I rubbed my face with the back of my hand as my eyes adjusted to the screen's brightness. Texts from friends and family flooded my notifications with an article titled, "Crazy Fan Tries To Grab K-Pop Star, LESSERAFIM's Huh Yunjin?" I stared at my phone as if I were waiting for someone to tell me this was a prank. Looking at the texts on my phone, I couldn't even think of where to start explaining this. Before I could begin responding, I heard three knocks on my door. I assumed it was one of my friends coming to check on me, and I sat up, shuffling over to the door to open it. When I saw Yunjin’s face, I tried to close it, but she stuck her shoe between the door. "Y/N, I'm so sorry about this. I swear I didn't mean for this to happen." She blurted out, trying to persuade me to open the door.
"Then why did you do it? You made me look like a fool in front of all those people! Jesus, even my friends, and family saw it!" She forced her way into the door, quietly shutting the door before taking a seat on the couch.
"I'm sorry, but what else did you want me to do? Unlike you, I have a reputation to uphold!" She argued.
"That's not the point! The point is that you humiliated me in front of everyone and didn't even bother to apologize, clear it up, nothing! You just let the media run with it!" She sighed, massing her temples as her leg bounced.
"Y/N, you knew what you were getting into when we started dating. It's not fair for me to deal with stress at work, then I get home and have to deal with this. This situation isn't that big of a deal."
"Seriously? It isn't that big of a deal? Are you saying I don't have the right to be upset after what happened today? After the way you treated me?" She rolled her eyes, standing up from her seat.
"You're too upset right now. Call me when you've calmed down later on."
"You know what? No. I'm done; we're done. Whatever this is," I gestured around myself, "is done." Yunjin turned around with a look of surprise on her face.
"What do you mean we're done? You don't just get to decide that on your own." I scoffed, surprised at her bold words.
"Get out," I said, pointing towards the door. She stood with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised as if daring me to do something. "I said get out!" I yelled, shoving her towards the door. She grabbed my wrists as I tried to pull away from her, using her strength to twist them behind my back. "Stop, you're hurting me!" I cried out, my body contorting unnaturally as I tried to free myself from her grasp. She quickly let go, pulling me into her chest as I winced.
"I'm so, so sorry, baby. I didn't want to hurt you like that. But you made me do it." I shook my head, unable to get any words out, as I sobbed into her shirt. "Yes, you did. If only you would've just been compliant and stayed at home, I wouldn't have had to do this to you." I let out quiet sniffles now and then as she rubbed my back, losing the will to fight back as her touch relaxed me like it always did. "You know I love you, right?" She squeezed me tighter the longer I didn't respond, her nails digging into my shoulder blades.
"I love you too." She hummed in acceptance, finally releasing me as I stumbled backward, sniffling as I watched her from a distance. “Can you please clear this up? At least tell them I’m your friend or something. I’m never going to live this down.” Yunjin sat back down and stared at the TV, deep in thought before she sighed and nodded her head.
“I guess I could, but that would involve everyone also finding out who you are. I thought you wanted to stay anonymous?”
“Well, I did before. Now everyone who sees me is going to immediately think of 'that' crazy fan, so I’d rather clear that up first.” She shrugged, scratching her ear as she pulled out her phone.
“I’ll just make a quick post letting everyone know that we’re friends.” She started typing on her phone, pausing now and then in thought. “Y/N Y/LN… my friend… we argued… having a bad day,” she mumbled, putting her phone to the side.
“Happy?” I nodded, hoping that this would clear my name. “Come sit,” she said, patting the couch beside her. I sat on the other end of the couch, awkwardly curled into the arm of the couch. She glanced at me, frowning before turning away.
“I should probably call my friends. You know, to explain what happened,” I suggested, hinting at the fact that I wanted her to leave. She nodded, gesturing with her hands as if to say “go ahead”. “So if you could leave…” I trailed off, hoping that she would understand and leave.
“Are you kicking me out?” She questioned me, staring with her eyebrow raised.
“No, of course not, I’m just-” She cut me off with a laugh, standing up from her seat.
“I’m kidding, Y/N. Calm down a bit. See you tomorrow, yeah?” I nodded, awkwardly letting out a small laugh.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” I followed her to the door, wincing as she grabbed my bruised wrist to pull me in for a kiss before closing it. I let out a shaky breath, reaching for my phone to call Daeun.
“Y/N, are you alright?” She asked me, sounding concerned over the phone.
“I’m fine. Could you please come over for a while?” I asked her, my words coming out almost begging-like.
“Of course. I’ll be there in 10.”
“Then, I threatened to break up with her and she almost broke my arms!” I exclaimed, showing her the indents on my wrist from where she grabbed me. Daeun gently turned my wrists over in her hands, inspecting them.
“I believe you, Y/N. But I don’t understand why she would do this. She seems so sweet on television.” Daeun muttered, running her fingertips over the marks.
“I know, right? Then I had to ask her twice,” I ranted, emphasizing the word ‘twice’, “to clear up this mess. I mean, isn’t that obvious? Now I don’t know what to do. I love her so much, I do, but I’m scared of what she might do next time something like this happens.” Daeun stared off into space, deep in thought before she sat up with a thought.
“Just block her on everything and come stay with me for a few nights. I mean, she wouldn’t be able to look for you without paparazzi following, right?” I made a sound of agreement before standing up to pack a bag of clothes for at least three nights. As I was getting my toothbrush from the bathroom, I heard a knock at the door. I perked up and made eye contact with Daeun before going to my phone to see the camera. I saw Yunjin outside of the door and I showed Daeun, her hands coming up to steady the phone as mine were still shaking.
“Open the door, Y/N. I know you’re still here.” Yunjin insisted from outside the door.
“Just open it, she won’t do anything when I’m here.” I nodded, taking a deep breath before opening the door.
“I know I said I’d see you tomorrow, but I couldn’t wait. I had to come back to apologize, not only for what happened at the shop but for how I treated you earlier," he mumbled, seemingly nervous from the way she was playing with her fingers.
“Jen, I don’t think we should do this anymore. I mean, I love you but I can’t keep sneaking around like this forever. I can't keep feeling like I can’t even interact with my girlfriend normally, because you’re so scared of what other people might think of you!” I ranted, still holding the door so that she couldn’t see Daeun.
“Scared? I’m not scared of what people think of me, Y/N. I’m scared of the effect that this might have on my group. If you want to break up, then fine, but don’t think for one second that you or anyone else is more important than my job, She raised her voice, pushing past me to grab her jacket that was lying on the chair in the living room. As she turned around, she saw Daeun sitting on the couch and froze.
"I won't say anything. I'm just making sure you don't hurt her again," Daeun hissed.
"I didn't..." Yunjin trailed off, shaking her head with a huff as she walked towards the door. "Whatever. I don't know what thing," she gestured towards us with her hands, "you two have going on here, but I won't be a part of it. You can break up with me if you want, but know you won't find another person that treats you even close to the way I do." She pushed past me, storming out of the door and down the hallway.
I let out a breath of relief, quietly closing the door behind her and falling on the couch beside Daeun. She wrapped her arm around my shoulder, pulling my head to lay against her.
"That's it?" She questioned me as I felt her eyes burning a hole into the side of my face. I shrugged, staring at the TV.
"I guess so."
The next day, I didn’t hear anything back from Yunjin, and I saw my name trending on social media because of the post that Yunjin made. I felt nervous because my name and face was plastered everywhere, but I felt slightly better since it wasn’t in a negative way anymore. After letting the rest of my friends and family know what happened while leaving out the part about Yunjin twisting my arms behind my back, I laid down on the couch, trying my best to erase the memories from yesterday. As I felt myself begin to drift to sleep, I heard a knock on the door. I tried to close my eyes again, but the knocking became more frantic. I sleepily got up and opened the door, still wiping sleep from my eyes as I squinted to see who it is. “Yunjin?”
“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I couldn’t just leave like that. Even going just one night and morning without your texts is making me miss you. Please take me back, Y/N. I promise if you do, I’ll never treat you like that again.” She pleaded, looking at me with wide eyes. I took a deep breath before nodding, watching as a smile spread across her face and she pulled me in for a deep kiss. “I swear you won’t regret it.”
After a few weeks, I did begin to regret it. Yunjin went back to her old ways almost instantly, her sweet act dropping after she realized that she had me reeled back in again. She started acting cold towards me in public, until she eventually stopped seeing me in public altogether, blaming it on the media. She became more secretive as well, disappearing during the day and coming back late into the night. “It’s because of practice, you know this.” She would tell me, but I had a hard time believing her. This time though, I chose not to confront her because I knew that no matter what, I’d always end up back in her arms again.
#fem reader#le sserafim yunjin#huh yunjin x reader#huh yunjin#yunjin imagines#yunjin x reader#kpop imagines#girl group imagines#gg imagines#le sserafim x reader#le sserafim imagines#⸻ writes! 📄
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thats cool and all but are you currently cheering your highschool sweetheart benny rodriguez and his baseball team on during a game? i didnt think so
𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ; b. rodriguez x fem!reader
modern!au
summary : benny has a big game coming up, so of course you’re gonna be there to support him. Not just because you want to but because you’re head cheerleader
warnings: none but benny is 16 in this, fluff, some cursing
You took in a deep breath in you’re cheer uniform as you prepared yourself to chant the saying you practiced many times before.
“You don’t got no problems you just talk like you!”
standing in front of you as you waved your hands in the air, clapping my hands and stomping your feet to the rhythm in your head that you memorized as you continued the rest taking short pauses between each word was an amused Benny nodding his head following the rhythm you were keeping up.
“Let me show you that you don’t want no problems you just talk like you do! say it to my face and nuck if you buck come out from them bleachers so wassup get buck!”
after repeating the words and clapping your hands a final time Benny finally spoke up”that was amazing baby”he said happily but still sounding calm and cool like he always does. He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist before leaning in for a kiss. ”I can’t wait to see you perform it at my big game tomorrow”you smiled at him and rested your hands on his chest. “But Benny I’m so nervous for tomorrow; what if I mess up?”
He frowned a little before pinching your cheek and smiling at you again. ”You’re gonna do great babe you always do”you laughed through your nose. “you flatter me Benny but I’m serious what if i mess it up, I missed 3 practices when I was sick remember?”. He frowned again. “cmon baby don’t be like that, you’re the best cheerleader I know you’re not gonna mess this up, just put your all into it and I know you’ll do great”. You smiled up at him”thanks Benny”
The game was after school and it was currently last period. (Y/n) was anxiously tapping her pencil and bouncing her leg up and down. She was already ready and in her cheer uniform as to save time and not rush to get ready for the game last minute. She glanced at her phone to check the time and seeing it was almost time to leave she got her stuff together. As the bell rang she rushed out the room and pushed through the crowd to get to the locker room to meet up with her friends.
As she arrived at the locker room and stuffed her bag into the tiny locker her friend approached her. “Do you have any lip gloss I can borrow? I forgot mine at home”. (Y/n) pulled out the tiny tube filled with gloss and handed it to her friend as she said a quick thanks before beginning to roll it onto her lips. (Y/n) broke the silence by speaking. ”are you nervous too?”. Her friend handed her back the gloss then replied with”totally, I feel like I’m gonna vom from how nervous I am”(Y/n) made a slight face of disgust. “I’m so nervous, especially since Benny’s gonna be watching”
“He always watches you cheer though, hell he plays on the fucking team and is arguably the best player on the team of course he’s gonna be there watching you”you stared at your friend blankly not seeing what she was getting at. She sighed before continuing. “What I’m saying is Benny is always there watching you cheer, whats different that you get nervous now?”. (Y/n) shrugged and leaned on the set of lockers across from where hers was and thought about how she was going to respond. “I don’t know I guess I just don’t wanna mess this up and embarrass myself or Benny”
Her friend nodded her head. “You’re not gonna mess up though. That’s why you’re head cheerleader, remember? You’re the best this shitty school could find”. You smiled and laughed lightly before looking down and fidgeting with your skirt. “Thanks”She smiled at you before changing the subject. “Let’s go before coach starts bitching at us for being late” she said before making her way out of the locker room and to the field as you followed behind her
As you and your friend were making you’re way to the field you saw the baseball team in their positions before the game including Benny. You smiled and blew a kiss at him which he returned by catching it. You made your way to where the rest of the cheerleaders were, fixed into neat rows separating them by jv and varsity. “Ready girls?”your coach yelled and looking at you signaling for you to start.
“You don’t got no problems you just talk like you!”starting off the chant while you yelled out while waving your hands then clapping your hands. “Let me show you that you don’t got no problems you just talk like you do! Say it to my face and nuck if you buck come out from them bleachers so wassup get buck!”the team all yelled while stomping their feet and clapping their hands in unison. After repeating the chant a couple times it ends with the crowd clapping and Benny sending you a thumps up.
You smiled looking at Benny in excitement. It was all up to Benny to win since the game was tied. Benny took a quick glance at you, winked, then looked back at the pitcher. The sun was blazing and you could see sweat starting to build up under Benny’s helmet. He adjusted his stance on home base, making sure his grip on the bat was tight. Then the pitcher made his move, and there he was, swinging his bat with all his might.
"cmon Benny run!!"
He was running faster than you’ve ever seen him. You could tell he really enjoyed baseball and this is where he belonged and wanted to be for the rest of his days, on the diamond. You could see the other team scramble for the ball, Benny’s own teammates cheering as he rounded the bases easily. One of the outfielders tried to throw the ball to a boy on third base, but it didn’t show that it phased Benny. Suddenly he had an explosion of speed, and slid onto home base just in time. His teammates erupted into cheers as the game ended. He took off his helmet and quickly talked to his teammates before he ran over to you, picking you up and twirling you around. “You did it Benny you won!”you smiled brightly looking down at him.
He set you down and kissed you gently, holding your face. “You did great with your cheer too. I told you you could do it”you laughed. “I have to go get my stuff and I know you do too. I’ll wait for you because I know you take longer”he looked down in slight embarrassment but laughed about it anyway. “Alright baby I’ll see you and we can go get something to eat to celebrate”he said kissing your cheek before running inside the school to the locker rooms. You stood there silently looking at Benny run away in admiration. Benny was the sweetest guy you knew and you plan to marry him at some point and grow old with him. After a while you went to the locker room and got your bag from your locker before going outside to meet your boyfriend.
You stood outside by the doors for only a little bit before Benny walked up beside you telling you he was ready to leave and starting walking hand in hand. “Where do you wanna go to eat”you looked over at him to see him looking down at his feet while kicking a rock. “I don’t know baby why don’t you choose?”he looked up at you squinting his eyes due to the sun shining down on them. “No you choose today because you won your big game”you frowned slightly at him before he sighed slightly and looked back down at his feet finding a new rock to kick. “why don’t we just go to a gas station and get some slushies and horrible microwaved burritos?”you smiled brightly at him. “I’d really like that”
lol i suck at ending stories
i havent written anything since like 2018 wattpad writing about creepypastas so if this is bad or if theres any errors im rlly sorry i havent wrote in years and i changed the pov like half way through from 1st person to 3rd person, i proofread this but i mightve missed sum stuff so sorry for that. also i didnt rlly know what to tag this as sorry
thanks for reading tho follow if u want
#benny rodriguez x reader#benny rodriguez#the sandlot#mike vitar#light yagami#death note#writing#fluff#x reader#the sandlot x reader
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may i request some sniperscout sillyness.
aka first date between them :3
Sniperscout First Date!
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Of course you can! SniperScout is one of my all-time favorite ships 😭 I love writing about them. So I'll break this down into two things because I've gotta add the silliness of Scout asking Sniper out.
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So, off the bat, neither of these guys knows how to ask someone on a date or how to date. Sniper tried sp hard to ask Scout out, working up the courage multiple times only to talk himself out of it at the last moment. Like Sniper sneaks up to Scout's door after successfully avoiding all the other mercs, with like flowers or something and knocks, all ready to confess, but then he hears Scout get up to open the door and he panics and leaves. Scout just opens the door and is so confused. He probably thinks the base is haunted. Scout is also way too nervous about asking Sniper out, but he's the one who ultimately makes the first move. Honestly, he'd end up doing the same thing as Sniper but gets caught.
Scout runs up to Snipers van. He's nervous as hell, hands shaking slightly, he knocks lightly on the door and the second he hears Sniper shuffling towards the door it all becomes to real and he freaks out, he starts to run away but Sniper has already opened the door, and is calling him back. Scout turns around, clasping his hands together in a nervous way, chuckling a little,
"Hey, Snipes! Uh, how ya doing?" Is the only thing he manages to say. He starts babbling about this and that trying to find an excuse for why he was there, his face is a little pink already. Sniper finally just bluntly asks him why he's there.
"Well, I- you see, I uh," Scout internally freaking out, he doesn't know why this has to be so hard, he's asked Miss Pauling out repeatedly and has been turned down every time, so why was that was less nerve-wracking than this? He finally just takes a deep breath, looks up for a minute, and spits it out before he has a chance to stop himself,
"Will you go on a date with me?" Sniper is turning a shade of red under his glasses as a moment of silence fills the air, Scout immediately takes this as a rejection and goes on damage control,
"Uh, SIKE! You shoulda seen the look on your face, haha, imagine us together that'd be so..."
"Yes." Scout immediately shut up,
"Wait, really? Uh, I mean, of course you'd say yes, who could resist this?" He says, gesturing to himself. Sniper just shook his head and told Scout to meet him at seven. They both acted cool when they walked away but immediately freaked out after they were a good distance away from each other.
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Surprisingly, Scout was more nervous asking Sniper out than he was actually taking him out on a date. They end up deciding to go to some shitty burger joint outside of town. Scout gets to the restaurant at 7... am. (kidding! But that's one of my favorite Scout quotes). They agreed to meet at Sniper's van. He's driving after all. Scout knocks on the door, Sniper answers, and he's actually sort of dressed up, well as dressed up as he can be, and Scout gets a dumb grin on his face, teasing him about it. Sniper just hits him on the head, muttering something about regretting this already. They get in the van and drive off. Scout spends most of the drive talking about random things to fill the dead air that would have otherwise laid around them, and Sniper just listens with a soft smile. Nothing has change between them, Sniper was afraid of that, he almost turned Scout down when he asked, scared of ruining their friendship, but he'd be lying if he said a large part of him didn't want their to be something more. They pull up to the burger joint and head in, and it goes much the same as it did in the van. Scout joking and talking Sniper's ear off, and Sniper is listening in, his feelings growing more and more as the minutes pass. Scout even managed to finally drag a couple of laughs, stories, and jokes out of Sniper. They spend the night just eating and enjoying each other's company. But in the end, as Sniper is driving back, he looks at Scout, who's tired but still smiling and talking softly, looking out the window. He wonders if this was any different than what they normally do. Sure, maybe during dinner, the conversations got a bit deeper than usual, but does that mean anything more that their friendship growing. Scout can pick up on the fact that Sniper is getting in his own head, and as slyly as he can, grabs a hold of his hand, sqeezing it gently. They pull up back to the base, both getting out of the van, Sniper asking Scout if he wants to stay and talk for a minute, maybe share a drink, Scout agrees and heads inside, they talk for more than a minute thought, more like an hour or two. Sniper eventually asks something about how their relationship is going to change or has changed, his worries from earlier slipping out, flowing freely due to the alcohol. Scout tries to think of a way to describe it, but he can't quite get the words, so he resorts to action. He grabs Sniper by the collar and kisses him. It's soft and gives off all the emotions Scout would have loved to vocalize. When he break the kiss he has a shit eating grin, and says,
"Now I can do that!" He feels proud of himself for all of two seconds, then realizing what he did, he turns a shade of red no human is able to replicate, he jumps up and starts speaking way to fast, walking to the door, laughing slightly,
"Ahaha, um, oh would you look at the time! I should actually be leaving. You know gotta rest up for tomorrow and all, bye Snipes!" He's walking down the stairs ready to make his run to the base only to be pulled back by Sniper, who Scout didn't realize had recovered from the kiss a lot faster than he had anticipated.
"Oh no, you don't get to just run away after that." Sniper teases. Scout only lets out a nervous chuckle and starts trying to mix an appology and explanation together,
"Oh, well actually, um, see, I only did that because-" Sniper just shuts him up with a kiss of his own. Once it ends, both of them are blushing, and both of them know exactly what's changed. Sniper asks if Scout wants to stay the night, and Scout agrees. The get in the bed together and lay in the quiet darkness for a moment, before Scout asks,
"You know what else I can do now?"
"What?"
"Tell you that I love you." Sniper just laughs a little at the cheesiness and just says,
"I love you too."
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Oops, this became way too sweet! Also, sorry, not much sillyness about the date itself, I think these goobers save all their sillyiness as pre - and post stress before events. I'm giggling rn. I love these two. Anyways, one ask down, 20 to go 💪💪 thank you guys for being patient with me :,)
Also, I always finish these fics right before I go to bed, so I'm always paranoid they make no sense, but it's fun.
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Ahh hi! I just wanted to say I LOVED your last Erik fic and I was wondering if you could write another? If you can’t that’s fine :)
Maybe him and the reader have a cottage and it’s after everything he’s been through and they’re finally happy and just spend a quiet evening together? Feel free to change anything and if you can write this tysm in advance <3
Omg what Bugs is writing a fic again?? For the first time in over a month?? Crazy I know, but here I am. And yes ofc love!!
Strawberries
Erik Lehnsherr x reader
Warnings: none that I’m aware of!!!
The air was cool as you lay down the soft blanket onto the grass in your back garden, you sat on it calling for your husband to come join you, he came out holding a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, Erik sat down on the other side of the blanket to you. As he opened the book you crawled over to him cuddling up into his torso, “now where did we leave of?” He asked. You thought for a moment, “chapter 12 I think” you hummed reaching over and popping a strawberry into your mouth pulling out the leaves and placing them into a separate bowl. Erik smiled down at you before taking a deep breath in and beginning to read aloud to you. His voice was soft and calm as he read, you gazed up at him watching him speak for a brief moment before gazing towards your little house.
It was a quaint little cottage, stone walls with vines crawling up its side and windowsills, you knew you should cut them before they covered the actual window itself but you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin perfect scene. Eriks chest fell up and down with each breath he took as he spoke, you continued making your way through the small bowl of strawberries repeating the same motions of pulling out the leaves and placing them in the bowl until you’d finished. Erik had stopped talking, “You stopped” you said looking up at him, “well I didn’t think you were listening, plus we finished two chapters” he smiled kissing the top of your head gently. Your face flushed smiling at Erik.
“Have you done something different with your hair?” You asked pulling back from his chest to inspect him, he sat still for a moment before a gentle laugh fell from his lips, “it’s just messy from today that’s all. Why? Do you like it like this?” He asked running his hands through his hair, you nodded happily telling him, “look pretty, it suits you as well”. Erik blushed before he felt a drop of rain it his hand, he looked up eyes meeting the deep grey rain clouds above the two of you, you followed his action feeling the rain start to come down on you two. You laughed slightly picking up the blanket and small bowls of fruit as you and Erik ran back instead laughing together.
You placed the bowls and blanket on the table looking out the window at the rain that was now pouring down, “it’s raining cats and dogs out there” Erik hummed wrapping his arms around your waist, chin resting atop your head as the two of you watched out the window. “I love cats and dogs”
#x reader#screaming crying throwing things#fluff#asks#fluffy#i love writing fanfic#erik lehnsherr#erik lehnsherr x reader#magneto#magneto x reader#magneto x men#cottage vibes#fix it fic#he deserves happiness#let this man rest#let him be happy#please god please let him be happy#I literally haven’t posted a fic in over a month wtf
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Mario 64's Perfect, Beautiful, Pure Control Scheme
(and how later Mario games gunk it all up)
Hello gunky gloopers! Let me take you on a journey. So, Mario 64's controls are like this:
Joystick: Run
A: Jump
Z: Crouch
B: Punch
But in my beautiful, perfect mind palace (and probably yours too, even if you never thought about it), they're actually more like this:
Joystick: Lateral
A: Up
Z: Down
B: Attack
And now, through abstraction, we are beginning to see the light
Part I: Utopia
Each of these main 4 inputs has a consistent association with one of these directions (or attacking). 64 understands that, while a 2D platformer could use just the stick or D-pad to cover both of its axes of movement, a 3D game's joystick is working full time controlling just one plane, so the orphaned up and down inputs were rehoused to A and Z
That's how Mario 64 builds out an intuitive moveset much wider than just 4 basic actions. In fact, essentially every combination of these main 4 inputs creates a logical outcome
Press down in the air and, predictably, Mario will go down via ground pound
Combine some lateral movement with both a down and up input and you get the long jump: a long, low jump that you can think of as resulting from the upward and downward forces cancelling out
Press attack while holding down to do... the crouching breakdancey low kick move thing. It's highly redundant, but it's a monument to Mario 64's dedication to this idea of a complete palette of moves intuitively resulting from combining these fundamental inputs
Even in particular contextual states like climbing poles or hanging on ledges, you can rely on these directional associations to control Mario without even thinking about it. Nobody ever told you you could press Z to drop down off a ledge or tree, but you might have done it anyway without being told
Now, these associations are stretched or broken in some contexts, like when flying or swimming, but I love the wing cap so much you'll never get me to slander it. Future Mario games, however...
Part II: Decay
While 64 flirted with impurity in specific contexts, future games would start to let impurities seep into Mario's core moveset
In Super Mario Sunshine, the L button centers the camera and makes Mario sidestep when on the ground... and it also makes him ground pound when in the air. I am currently doing deep breathing exercises
In Super Mario Odyssey, pressing ZL/ZR in the air and then Y leads to... a forward dive. Now, Y does have a relatively consistent association with forward movement in this game, but down and then forward resulting in a move that only pushes Mario forward is pretty tenuous, especially given how often players will use this move. And, while most of Odyssey Mario's moveset is consistent enough about using ZL/ZR as down buttons... you can't use them to drop off ledges. I try to every time, and every time absolutely nothing happens and a piece of my soul leaves my body to wander the cosmos forever
...well, at least the game is more diligent about keeping these directional associations alive when in the water than Mario 64 is...!
Part III: Change
Now, look. The loss of the purity of the control schemes in 3D Mario games is absolutely devastating and I still have not recovered. But... I do recognize that later games had particular goals with their movesets that couldn't so cleanly just be mashed into the standards of purity that SM64 set. Not without sacrificing some of what their movesets were all about
Sunshine needed a button to help with aiming FLUDD, which wouldn't have really been helpful in the air anyway, so it's understandable it was also used for the ground pound. Odyssey needed a way to disambiguate an aerial Y/"forward" input into either a cap throw or a dive so you could do cool fancy tricks and find those coins everyone lost their minds about on top of that underground building. And if they patched in the ability to drop off ledges with ZL/ZR, then the lost pieces of my soul would return to my body with a newfound wisdom gained from wandering the stars, and I would ascend out of my physical body to a new, heightened mode of existence and lose the ability to touch a controller, and then I'd never get to spend my evenings gleefully, repeatedly dropping off ledges with Z in Mario 64 again :(
(By the way, a game I worked on just came out! It's a tough 2D platformer with a surreal, haunting aesthetic and I'm honored I got to get into all the little crevices and polish them all up because it's such a cool project. It was spearheaded by my friend @zombielesbean. Go play it!!!)
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